#or in hostel rooms filled with random people

[fivewholeminutes]

so. wembley.

Once I have finally gathered my wits the words did not want to stop coming. This rambling is long; apologies for that. And for the messed up tenses I hate tenses we only have one past tense why is English like this

No photos/videos yet, they are still not properly checked/deleted/edited by me.

It was. Unsurprisingly. One of the best days of my life. But also, I don't remember much from my life, so don't trust me on this one. (Kidding, it totally WAS one of the best days of my life). And uhh... I have a problem with processing events and emotions, so it still feels like I have seen it on a TV screen instead of, you know, actually, physically having been there? Idk how to explain that, I still have to convince my brain that I've been there. I feel detached from it completely. But!! I!! Have!! Been!! There!!

I woke up so early that foxes were still roaming the streets. Didn't talk much with people around me in the queue (hello anxiety), but they were lovely! I signed the blue flag for iii from me & Lia, got the sticker for Projekt Atlantic, received some bracelets, exchanged some bracelets, put some sea creatures tattoos on people (LIA I FORGOT TO GIVE YOU THE WHALE!!!), slept on a pavement, bought merch for myself and others (I've never had anyone to buy concert merch for before, it's such a nice feeling 🥺).

And queueing for so long was so fucking worth it! Third row, baby!! For the first time in the middle!! (Which was my downfall later, but the pre-show me was not aware of that just yet). I couldn't actually hear HEALTH that well, but I really liked their drummer, he was enjoying himself and his joy was contagious. (I've checked them later though and. Last album, my beloved.) During the break, well, you all know what was happening, I have been liveblogging everything (sorry about that <3). The moment someone in the crowd literally screeched when they saw the new masks on instagram was a blessing, I wouldn't have survived seeing them in new masks without a warning. Also, my blind ass would probably realise 3 songs in that they have different masks, I shit you not. Besides, it was super fun having a mental breakdown here on tumblr with y'all <3

When Espera entered the stage, everything else stopped being of any importance to me. I remember my first thought was "oh yeah, sure, the ladies are dressed up and moving like this and you expect me to focus on anything else that is happening on this stage?". And of course, my second thought was "I GOTTA TAKE PICTURES FOR DARYA". Naturally, I was trying to keep up with everything else anyway. I haven't seen ii all too well though and it makes me sad :( Alas. I've had a good vantage point for the ladies. Yeah. Brain went brrrrr every time I was looking at them. Where was I again-

I was still coughing at that time. I got a terrible coughing fit after literally 3 short screams during HEALTH and my idiot ass has left all the lozenges except one in the hotel room an hour before the door opening. I thought I would have to spend the rest of the night not singing along nor screaming and felt utterly heartbroken for a few minutes, but after my Holy Grail Lozenge (and a LOT of water from the venue's crew) my cough has abandoned me for the duration of the whole ritual (thank you, Sleep). Even though, when Sam told us that we have to sing, my only thought was "I CAN'T FUCKING SING EITHER, MATE". But I did. Oh, I so fucking did. I sung my lungs out and did not cough even ONCE.

But you know. I was exhausted, anxious, surrounded by strangers and had more sugar in my veins than red cells at that point, so I wasn't my best self. I really thought the karaoke was for shits and giggles at first. "Oh yeah, it's The Most Popular Song, let's see how it sounds when 10k people sing it without the singer's help!", you know. Thought it was for the recording the announcements warned us about. But then we sung Granite. Ohhhkay. And then The Love You Want - certainly not a song they would leave for an impropmtu singalong. It was then that I (belatedly) realised that yeah, something really was wrong and so my heart broke again. So many preparations! Their biggest gig so far! Even iii managed to be there! And something had to happen!! Specifically!! To Vessel!! Of all people!! That was just not fair. He totally didn't deserve this. But it's just life and its endless fucking bad surprises for everyone, huh.

I didn't have enough time to collect all the broken pieces of my heart from the sticky floor and mend them after this realisation, because after Vessel joined the singing for the last few lines of TLYW, he dropped to his knees in front of us crying and thanking everyone. That sight is now carved into my brain. This is when I realised the 3rd row was a mistake. The psychic damage it gave me is irrevocable. Do you have those moments that you will never forget? A few seconds of an (usually traumatic) experience that will haunt you forever, replaying in your mind like a broken record? It was a bit like this for me. It wasn't traumatic, mind you, but it was definitely something that made a permanent dent in my heart and a home in my brain. And I wouldn't change it anyway.

Another thing that made me think that I will just fall down and never get up was iii & iv's hug. It was. So full of love and reassurence. Idk, you could just feel that emitting from them, okay? I was standing there thinking "yeah sure, just fucking murder me tonight instead, okay. Should've kept staring at Espera only-". Ah yes. The ladies. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Where was I again-

The goosebumps when the whole venue yelled "they won't be missing you" during Nazareth, oh my fucking god. On my previous rituals, in way smaller venues, there's always been a handful of people screaming it. And everyone doing it? Unparalleled feeling. Bordering on the shrimp emotions scale.

The lights were spectacular. I cannot describe how amazing the light show was. I am sending a kiss to each and every light crew member.

Also, Vessel being more emotional during the ritual as a whole. The TLYW moment was the worst for me, but there were many others. (Ascensionism and Bloodsport stabbing me with a rusty knife the most.) I mean, who could've blamed him for the emotions, he would probably be very emotional even without the voice issues. Who wouldn't be!! It was a big night, after all. God, it must have been so difficult for him, I really, really fucking hope the love coming from his bandmates, crew and the crowd was enough to help him focus on the good parts of the evening only. And!! It wasn't even that bad!!! Sure, he lost his voice for a while, but once it was back you could!! Barely!! Hear!! The difference!! I have a whole new level of respect for Vessel because of that. And for staying onstage with us for the songs he couldn't sing. Didn't know I could respect him even more than I already did, but hey. Love being surprised like that. I have seen concerts where the singers were singing way worse live while being completely healthy. Like sure, you could notice he's not using so many uhh, how do you call this in English, vocal ornamentations??? and that his voice is strained, but it was still beautiful. Take care of your voice now though, dude, jfc. Thanks for the sacrifice, much appreciated, but TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL FUCKING FIND YOU- (kidding, kidding. or am i.) I also liked that he was leaving the more screamy moments in songs for us. Aiming the microphone at us, positive we'll have his back. Like yeah, yeah, other bands do that relatively often, but it's not something they usually do, you know.

I can't vouch for everyone in the crowd, but I sure as fuck did not have a SINGLE thought that the show sucks because of his voice issues. Like it didn't even occur to me. Honest to god. I was shocked when I saw on tumblr that people were leaving? Asking for a refund????????????? I was having the time of my life singing those songs. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, probably!! Who can say they karaoked whole 3 songs with the band playing for them live?? Your local karaoke bar could never. (Bonus points, you could hear Espera better bc of that! Yes, I know, you are not supposed to hear backing vocals too loud in general, I'm just saying it was nice hearing them, bc usually I hear them on recordings only.)

Yeah, sure I was disappointed after the show that there was no Euclid, but that's just me, a total whore for Euclid. It's a completely different thing than being a bitch who leaves halfway, because something out of the ordinary has been happening.

Anyways. I would like to wish all the crowdsurfers a very fuck you. Hope you will all step on a lego every day for the rest of your lives <3

Crowdsurfers and constant giving away of water (which I understand, it was terribly hot there and it was needed) were a bit distracting, I missed some things because of the commotion, the drum solo has been disrupted by me getting a (fortunately very light) kick in the mouth and DRUM SOLO IS SACRED. I HOPE THE CROWDSURFER WHO DECIDED TO GO UP IN THAT MOMENT WILL STEP ON 3 LEGOS DAILY. IT'S LITERALLY THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF THE RITUAL FOR ME AND THEY HAVE RUINED IT. Thanks to another crowdsurfer, I missed the moment the band was throwing stuff into the crowd and I promised Lia I will catch a pick/drumstick for them!!!!!!! I've had a banner for this occassion and all!!!!! And!!!!! For the whole time things were flying from the scene!!!! I have been under someone's legs and ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Side note: Vessel was throwing away his rings. That's so fucking cool, ahh.

All in all, half of the things that happened there, I've learned from tumblr. The announcements about the recording, people leaving, Vessel being covered in runes (I WAS STANDING RIGHT BEFORE HIM AND DIDN'T SEE ANYTHING. A N Y T H I N G. I HATE BEING A BLIND IDIOT), the Espera ladies laughing at iii for not coming to the photo, hell, even Vessel trying to get his attention. I have NO idea what I've been doing back then, it's a blur again lmao. And. The most important thing: Vessel's "thank you". I didn't catch it back then. I don't hear it on my recording. Tbh I couldn't believe y'all for a long while that it really happened (I'm sorry). But it did and you know what? I'm glad the broken pieces of my heart were left on the arena's floor earlier during the show. I don't want them anymore.

I would also like to thank that one security guy in huge headphones who was our warning that another fucking crowdsurfer was coming our way. I hope the headphones guy's pillow is always cold on both sides, his skin clear, his crops- and so on. Our hero <3

There was also a moment during Atlantic (another important moment disrupted. Smh) where 2 security persons dived into the crowd?? I still have no idea what was happening, bc if someone faints for example, they are always brught to the barricade by the crowd and security picks them up, I've never seen security getting into the crowd before. And because of that, people around me were talking loudly during Atlantic. Kill kill murder kill

Still, Projekt Atlantic was a huge success and I am so proud of the organisers!! They're in the same category of lovely people as the big headphones security guy

Sending a kiss to @murderofcrow for this gif 🖤

To sum up. I will forever be grateful for this band. This music has activated the dormant parts of my mind. I am making art again. I am meeting cool people because of them. I have people to talk about it with who are as excited about it as I am. For the first time in ages I really feel alive again. And life is not good, far from it, to be completely honest with you, they haven't magically fixed all my problems, but I do have something that actually fucking works on me. I know Vessel wouldn't agree, but they are saving people. And you all, lovely ST pocket of tumblr motherfuckers who are reading this, you are saving people too.

And, last but not least!! In hot pink, because I can! Thanks to this ritual I could finally meet @vesselsscarlet and @thevenomousseprent in person!!!!!!!!! I love you guys, you are amazing and I can't wait to see you again 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 You've made me feel so loved that weekend and it's something I haven't felt in a while!!

#it was surprisingly hard to write #took a lot of editing and rewriting whole paragraphs and it's still not a proper description of everything i wanted to say #i don't know how to talk about emotions #and i have. a lot of them since wembley #a word of advice: attend concerts. beg for money for them from your family members sleep in tents during rain #or in hostel rooms filled with random people #go for gigs without a place to sleep and spend 4hrs waiting for your bus home in a local mcdonalds #watching drunk guys split their eyebrows on the stairs there #(not now tho now we're boycotting macdonalds #but there are other places open 24/7) #go to gigs alone #but by god. go to them if you are able to and if your health allows you to go #(and yes it is coming from someone with anxiety. i wouldn't travel or sleep in a tent alone for anything else trust me) #it is always worth it. ALWAYS #sleep token

[stars-of-kyber]

Hi! Can we know more about oneshots you are writing right now? One of them is Single Mum AU?!

Hello!! Yes! I love talking about my AUs.

I've got the Asthma story an anon asked me in here, which is almost done, I'm pretty sure I'll get it posted still this week. I've called it Breathe (and unfortunately I don't have a moldboard for it)

There's the very self-indulgent Carnaval AU one-shot (it's the plan but we know me, anything can happen) where Anthony and Kate meet each other during a trip to Rio de Janeiro to enjoy Carnaval (yes, I'm going to write a story set in my city bc I can lol)

I've named it Amor de Carnaval

Summary: After a bad breakup with Siena, Anthony’s brothers convince him to tag along to spend a week in Rio de Janeiro during Carnaval, one of the biggest street parties in the world in the crowded and hot streets filled with dressed-up strangers, Anthony’s determined to forget himself to the celebration.

On the first day, he meets a dark-haired, long-legged angel that goes by Kate who’s staying in the same hostel. They live a passionate week-long love story that ends along with Carnaval when it’s time to go home. He doesn’t even get her last name.

Because what happens during Carnaval, dies in Ash Wednesday. Doesn’t it?

And I've got the Single Mum AU I've been cooking up for a while.

Initially, the idea is just a meet-cute one-shot, but if people like it I can make it a series of one-shots about special moments of their relationship.

It's called Dog Days (Are Over)

Summary:

When Anthony Bridgerton got a call from his brother asking for his help on a random Wednesday night, a wide variety of things went through his head. He imagined everything from Benedict being bored to severe legal issues. The one thing he would never have imagined finding his brother with a toddler running wild in his living room.

Kate Sharma is an exhausted single mum of a two-year-old working two jobs and trying to finish her studies. When her friend from work offers to babysit Miles so she could take one of her final classes, she doesn’t even hesitate to accept. She’d known Ben since before Milo was born. He was responsible and got along great with kids. Miles liked him, which was rare. It would be fine… right?

I'm so excited for them!

#my writing #bridgerton #asks #my fic #kathony #anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #Modern AU #Carnaval AU #Amor de Carnaval #Asthma AU #Breathe #Single Mum AU #The Dog Days (Are Over)

[chaletnz]

Lima: A Day in Barranco

I started my day with a surprisingly good shower in the tiny shared shower block opposite my room, then I decided to try the hostel breakfast as it was Sunday I figured this would be the best day of the week to have breakfast in the hostel as most everything else would likely be closed. I put my order in and paid, then waited patiently at one of the three tables available in the courtyard while watching Rao the Kaclla (healing dog) running around skittishly begging for food. The breakfast cost about 25 soles from memory and it was filling - two warm pita breads, peanut butter, fig jam, yoghurt topped with granola, raisins, apples, banana and papaya slices, organic Peruvian coffee, and papaya juice. After I'd eaten and drank all this and returned my tray, I was also able to get a coca tea to pep me up for the day ahead. I walked out to the Larcomar outdoor mall on the seafront but it was deserted this early in the morning. From here it was about another 30-45 minutes walking around the coastline to reach the Barranco neighbourhood. There were great views from these huge cliffs and of course, many fancy apartment buildings with front row seats on their balconies. My first stop in Barranco was Caleta Dolsa Coffee for a flat white, I had to get takeaway as it was so busy with people outside waiting on the steps for a table. Amazingly, it was cashless to go against the grain of everything else in Peru! I took my coffee back one block into a little park where I could sit and enjoy it while people-watching. I took myself on a random walking tour around the Iglesia La Ermita church and street art of Barranco, which was everywhere so I just chose street by street where I wanted to go. After an hour or so I was tired and needed some lunch and another coffee so I stopped in at Singular for a flat white and smoothie bowl with mango, pineapple, coconut and sunflower seeds. Afterwards I headed back to the church where there was a little market and I bought some alfajores cookies to take back for everyone at work. I found a massive supermarket out there too so I had a look around and used their bathroom before starting the long walk back to Miraflores. On the way back I saw a lot of dogs out for their Sunday walkies, including a cute chihuahua wearing a jacket - there aren't nearly as many strays around Lima as other parts of Peru but I guess Lima is where the money is. At the hostel, I had a rest for a while and ate some plantain chips until it was evening and I felt a little peckish. I'd been given a coupon from PeruHop for a free Pisco Sour at Saha Terraza cocktail so I claimed that and also ordered a plate of cheese tequeños with guacamole dip. After dinner I attempted to find more of those plantain chips from Iquitos but it seems they were something special as they weren't anywhere I looked, nor could I find anything close. Since I had walked 24k steps today, I treated myself to dessert of a slice of Tres Leches cake from the supermarket. That's the new rule going forward, if I do over 20k steps in a day then I can have a slice of cake!

#Peru #Lima

[bonnielassie23]

Is this a kdrama, or your life? An old friend asks for a favour. There's trouble ahead and a shit tone of awkwardness. Season one of your life has come to an end.

This is a y/n story with Jhope as the male lead. She's smart and sweet, but life can be cruel and downright fucked up.

If yall like it, let me know and I will post more parts.

Joy and Hope has 18 parts and on wattpad already, and it is part of a 3 event series.

This is the wattpad link if you want to read.

I'm very new on this app and not sure what I'm doing yet x

Disconnection.

"Thank you so much for helping me out, I can't get there for a few days, my visa was delayed , then not sent with the groups and now I cant get a flight to join them. You're a life saver, and I won't forget it. You're an angel, and I owe you big time!"

Nicole is your old college friend. She's called out of the blue with a favour.

You are flying to Sweden from Germany, where you have been working for a few months. Nicole works for a band in Korea, and the members are having some sort of vacation. A mix-up with visa dates, and you're now helping out until she can get there. You don't know the band, there's not much call for knowing them in Europe. Most people here have only heard of Psy, and that's because his song made it to the US.

Arriving in the hostel, you realise its been booked out for the guys and their camera crew and security and managers. Maybe they are the next big boy band! The security member meets you at reception, you fill out a few different pieces of paperwork, sign a confidentiality form, and are escorted to your room.

The manager waits while you put away your small luggage case, and he walks you to the common room. This is when you are introduced to the band. There's seven of them and maybe four other people in their entourage. It's a quick "hello, I'm Nicole's friend, I'm only here for a day or two, and then she will take over." Nicole has told them about you and a little of how you met. What she didn't tell you is that they are all very handsome and sweet.

Its not that you don't interact with them. They are kind of shy, so except to help with the usual directions and how to pay for shit they don't really speak too much. Well, some of them don't. One of them understands and speaks English well. The others not so much. The members greet you in Korean and sometimes English, its kind of cute when they throw out random English words. The management have gifted them this holiday for their hard work, its also a way for them to build deeper bonds and create memories. They are filming their time on this holiday and showing some of it to their fans. It seems strange that this private time would be filmed for their fans to enjoy later. But hey, the K-pop industry is not something you know a lot about.

Fast forward two years and some change.

You've been dating someone since returning to Germany. He's from South Korea, 3 months older than you, honey toned skin, dark brown hair, a soft face, and a warm heart. He's got a great body, too. But he enlists 18 months of mandatory service in the military. Not one to sit around, you make use of the time to work overseas and go back whenever possible for his days off.

His name is 이 동진 (Lee DongJin). He's not the most exciting sexual partner, but he loves you. You have met his family, and they love you too. While working in Tokyo,'Cole' asks for another favour. You guys have kept in touch since your last favour. Going for girls' nights out and shopping days when you're in the same country. The band she was assigned to has become quite well known in Korea and has also been on tour to some parts of Europe and the US.

Nicole has asked you to cover for her in the US next month, she's hurt her leg and won't be able to fly, plus "it's only a few days and you've worked with him before, please" she whinges down the phone. You say yes. It's all money for your life with DongJin for when he gets out of the military. The flights and hotel have been booked. You will be able to complete the contract you're on, then fly to Seoul, where you can do a few errands and then onward to LA. Easy.

You know it's for a member, but you're not sure which one. It doesn't matter. it's a few days contract with 3 languages. DongJin is being discharged in 3 and half months, and you're looking forward to starting your life together

Once you land in Incheon, and head back to your apartment in Hongdae. The apartment block is huge and part of a larger community. on the sight there is a gym, a small shopping complex, it's also located next to the subway. There is a reasonable sized park area where you can walk around and enjoy the trees and flowers. You like being outside, especially in spring and autumn.

Inside your block, there is a vase lobby with a concierge. the mail boxes are situated to the left of the reception desk and the elevators to the right. You take the elevator up to your floor. it's a smooth ride and only takes about a minute. there's a large window on each floor with a beautiful view of the city.

The keypad lights up but makes no noise at this time of night. When walking thru the entrance and living area, you see different sized boxes, 'did I not tidy those away the last time i was here?' you think, 'is that a tux?' That's when you check the bedroom and see DongJin sleeping in your bed. But next to him is a bride.

You snap a pic and leave. You don't know why. Maybe your eyes are playing tricks on you. You don't know why, but you record a video of how your house is. The paintings are the soft furnishings and the electronics. You see the laptop you gave him the phone you bought him before he left for service you pick that up too and leave. You say to the night guard that there will be someone by tomorrow to change the key code. you thank him for his work.

Catching a taxi is easy. You go to a hotel not too far from your apartment. Once inside, you scream. 'Shit, fuck, what the hell was that. ok Booze'

Once you get thru a bottle of whisky you sleep.

You wake with a fire inside your belly and a matching band in your head. You call your fa (finance advisor) tell them what's going on and they make a group call to their in house lawyer. DongJin still doesn't know he has been found out. The Lawyers smile can be felt through the voice call.

They set in motion a plan to cut him out of your life for good and fast but you have to leave for work or you won't be able to pay.

Back story

In primary school. Your teacher set your class up with pen pals. She, being from Germany and doing a yrs exchange, thinks this is a great idea, you all start writing to her other class back home.

This goes on for the year. Most of the class don't care about it but you love it. You learn German kind of fast. You send more than one letter to your new friend a month while the rest of the class barley get through the required one every 5 weeks.

Your family take summer vacations and the last few yrs it's been France. So you have made friends with some of the locals. you also write letters to them. its only natural for you to pick up their language as well.

Yip your one of those kids. You love learning.

By the time your sitting your exams in high school, instead of taking the broad subjects like a science or creative arts you focus on languages. Already you have the French and German certificates, that you sat in 1st and 2nd Yr. In 3rd and fourth year you added Spanish and Japanese. You love to challenge yourself and your teachers encourage it.

Now that your a little older and know what you want to do with your life, Instead of family vacations you spend holidays living with your dad's sister who lives in Norway. You gain entry to one of the colleges and spend 2 yrs there. Your now, Almost 19yrs old. You have 5 languages with the corresponding certifications at your disposal. You wanted to work at the un. Not because you particularly cared for the politics but you could do the job of 5

people so you were in demand. After a year you want to go exploring. So you take 2 yrs out. Go visit the countries and really learn the languages. Meeting many wonderful people. When In Japan you find a love for Korean cuisine and take a trip with some European friends. After 3 weeks doing the tourist thing you fall deeper for the country so spend 6months teaching and tutoring students.

Over the next few years you bounce around Europe, Japan and Korea. 2016 and your working in Germany on a contract for some business. It's boring at times and its really helping the company staff with their English pronunciations and spelling. the upside to this contract is, your closer to your family so can see them more. You miss your younger sister.

While there your friend Nicole calls you.

Surprised but happy you get to chatting.

"Hey babes, i have a favour to ask..."

#bts #bts army #bts fanfic #bts jhope #bts smut #bts x reader #Spotify

[writinismyfulltimething]

The Wasabi and Ketchup - Spicy sweet Combo - Chapter Five: The Hostel Room (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1294207622-the-wasabi-and-ketchup-spicy-sweet-combo-chapter?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Wrtinismafulltimejob&wp_originator=dtpncPLBg0GbyAp3zw9WTRu5L1OlM0cQ7BuIUj1KcmtncucUayhpS2sFCo%2BefiQ1Ditjh8iWcEPCH69mjH%2B4oG3DKnCAvFhVEBNoxygrtXphQB%2FnNfc%2B0fgm5c%2BwScDB Paxton finds himself falling for the new guy, and is confused with his feelings, is he gay? Does he love Sam? Does he feel the same way? Meanwhile Sam finds himself getting attracted to the tough guy Paxton. But will they be able work their feelings out and live a good life? This full-on weird af, gay af fanfic about we (me & nat) shipping our two boy classmates is a harmless little story BUT is filled with imagination, secondary ships and SO much moooore drama!!! So join us in this rollercoaster of.. random stuff! #Fiction Xo, Pri and Nalina P.S. We died laughing writing this.. Can't wait to show the people this is actually based on!! XD P.P.S. This whole thing started off as a joke..

#collegestories #funtoread #gay #gayboys #gayfiction #gaylove #gayromance #highschoolsweethearts #lgbt-themed #lgbtfiction #love #middleschool #msa #nalina #navya #nepal #nepalstuff #paxton #piyudin #pri #sam #ship #general-fiction #books #wattpad #amreading

[moldisgoodforyou]

rome (v)

wordcount: 8.2k oops

warnings: smut !! like a lot i'm a tiny bit embarrassed. also angst at the end !!

______

“You didn’t.”

Rafe gave her an apologetic smile as their train pulled out from the station in Florence, outside slowly blurring as the train picked up speed. “I think I might have.”

She let him be completely in charge of the transportation, hotels, everything - which turned out to be a terrible mistake, seeing as he’d never traveled on his own before (and had never planned anything in his life). She’d had to amend most of their plans already , as he just purchased without thinking of any logistics. Instead of buying a train ticket directly to Rome, he’d accidentally bought two tickets. One leg of the ride went an hour and a half to Pisa, then the other leg sent them on a four hour train ride along the western coast of Italy to Rome.

The two had nearly missed their fourth alarm, sleeping through the other three, and had to scramble out of bed with Sophie nearly in tears in order to throw their things into their suitcases and make it to the train on time. Rafe bought tickets in advance, like usual, but Sophie had forgotten to check over them once they printed from the kiosk and they hopped on their train just in time. After shoving their luggage onto the rack and returning to Sophie half-asleep in their seats, he realized his mistake when he re-read their tickets.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes blearily, frowning as she inspected the ticket and confirmed his confession. “How did you even manage that? There’s a direct transport to Rome.”

“I don’t know, the page was all in Italian! I don’t know Italian!” He defended, looking more and more worried by the second.

“Okay, baby, it’s okay. You’re fine.” She sighed. “Not the end of the world.”

“You’re stressed.”

“I’m not stressed.”

“You’re definitely stressed.”

“I’m a little stressed.” She admitted, handing the tickets back to him. “We also got back to the hostel at 3am and nearly missed the train and you got kissed by a random boy last night even though I didn’t listen to you when you said he was flirting and -”

“Hey.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And I’m fine, and we’re both on the train, it’ll just take us a little longer to get there. We’re fine. Okay?”

“We’re fine.” She repeated like she was trying to convince herself, nodding. “We’re fine.”

“Exactly. Now I think you need to sleep, angel, at least until we get to Pisa. I can find us some breakfast.”

She lifted her head to squint at him. “Sorry, say that again?”

“You need to sleep?”

“No. The city we’re going to.”

“...Pisa?” He repeated, pronouncing it like “pie-za.”

Sophie shook her head. “Pisa, baby. Try again.”

He scoffed, pronouncing it his way again. “It’s definitely Pisa, Soph.”

“...Okay. You go around telling people you went to Pie-za, that’s fine with me.” She shook her head, settling back into his side. “Can you scratch my back?”

(It only took her a few minutes to fall asleep but she was pretty sure she heard him using Google Translate to see how Pisa was actually supposed to be pronounced when he thought she was sleeping.)

When they finally made it to Pisa, Rafe nudged Sophie awake and pretended not to notice when she swiped a tiny spot of drool away from her cheek. They were both starving and made the thirty minute walk to the Leaning Tower of Pisa just for kicks in their layover - she made him stop to buy her some overpriced crepes from a market stand along the way.

They were both extra tired when they returned to the train, tucking into each other’s side and using Sophie’s jean jacket as a makeshift blanket. He played with her hair idly, watching her as she was about to fall asleep again. “Soph?”

She shifted, trying to stay awake. “Yeah?”

“Are you tired of traveling?” He asked tentatively. “Like, are you ready to go home?”

“I think those are two different things.” She lifted her head a little to check over his expression. “Why?”

“I don’t know, just.” He started, shrugging, but only continued when she nodded to prompt him further. “You seem so much more confident here, you seem happier to me. If living here is something you’d want to do, I’d want you to consider that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous for her reply. “Even if that means we would be apart for a little bit again.”

Sophie sat up completely so she could look him in the eye. “I love traveling, I really do. But I’ve also been homesick for three months - I miss my family, much more than I thought I would, I missed you like hell, and I miss having a routine.” She bit the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t frown. “I haven’t been home to the Outer Banks since Christmas, and it’s August. That’s ages.”

He nodded and leaned forward, kissing her forehead. “I can go home with you, if you’d like? For the week before we have to go back to start school?”

“You’d do that? Even if you have to see your dad?”

“Yeah, of course I would.” He smiled, stroking his thumb over her cheekbone. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

“I’m glad you think I seem confident, because I have no idea what I’m doing half the time.” She smiled. “I feel much better with you around, I don’t think you realize how many days I cried when I first made it to Spain.”

He frowned, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “I don’t like hearing that. I hate it when you cry.”

“Sweet boy.” She grinned, lifting her head to nudge her lips against his chin. “I’m okay. You need sleep, you’re going soft on me.”

“Remind me how long my mistake is?”

“Four hours. We both need sleep and I can’t sleep if you’re moving around. We get to Rome around two.” She yawned, tucking her knees to her chest to keep herself warm. “Then you need a shower, you still smell a little bit like the club from last night.”

“Rude.” He leaned back anyways so she could be more comfortable. “G’night, angel.”

“Morning.” She corrected, seconds away from sleep.

He laughed, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Good morning.”

The train ride was fairly uneventful - every half hour or so, one of them would wake the other up for entertainment or to point out the window at a pretty view. At one point Rafe suggested they join the mile-high club - but for trains, aptly named by him as the “rail tail club” - she just glared at him and crossed her arms to go back to sleep.

They took advantage of the WiFi to cancel their hostel stay and actually move to a hotel instead - after what happened in Florence, Sophie decided they didn’t need the experience of making new friends. Rafe had to slyly hide the full bill from her when she asked how much it was. (He felt a little guilty seeing the relief on her face when he said it was cheaper than expected, but he swore he’d never put her through financial stress as long as he lived.)

When they finally arrived and walked the ten blocks to the hotel - with suitcases in tow, dodging other tourists and locals in the street - Rafe stripped off his clothes the second they walked into their hotel room. Sophie paused, watching him with amusement as the door clicked shut behind them. “What on earth are you doing?”

“I feel so gross.” He confessed, peeling off his socks and shoving off his shorts. “Why didn’t you make me shower last night?”

“You were drunk, baby, I had to haul you to the metro station.” She followed him into the bathroom and he turned in the shower, shutting the door so steam would fill the room. He raised his eyebrows. “You coming in or are you just gonna watch?”

“I’m too tired for sex.” She told him, hopping up to sit on the counter. He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “Okay. So let’s just shower.”

“Just shower? You gonna stick to that?” She let him tease the hem of her shirt up, slowly.

“Just shower. Please? I’ll wash your hair.” He encouraged, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning to get in the shower.

“Hm.”

“I’ll wash your tits.”

He grinned when she gasped and reached out to swat his butt, making him jump before he stepped into the shower. “Or not! Whatever you’d like!”

She rolled her eyes and stripped down, joining him a few moments later. “You have a dirty mouth. I can’t let you keep getting away with that.”

He smirked, stepping close. “What are you gonna do about it? Punish me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She challenged, backing him against the shower wall. He tried his best to hold back a laugh at how cute she looked, trying to seem all intimidating. “Yeah. You know I would.”

She leaned up for a kiss and he leaned down, eyes closing - until she suddenly pinched his nipple, twisting it. “Ow! Sophie!”

She cracked up laughing, getting under the shower spray and handed him the shampoo. “Wash my hair. I’m hungry, let’s go find food.”

“So demanding.” He complained, accepting the shampoo. “Turn around.”

“I said we’re not having sex -”

“I said turn around, not bend over.” He swapped places with her in the shower and started shampooing her hair carefully, adding the perfect amount of pressure and making sure he didn’t tangle her hair. She moaned quietly and he paused abruptly. “Sophie. Do not.”

“Rafe, keep going.” She whined, pressing her head back into his hand.

He grumbled, continuing his shampooing. “Quit making noises.”

“I can’t help it, it feels so good - hey!” She squeaked, whipping around to glare at him when he tugged on her hair at her scalp. “What the fuck!”

“You’re saying everything you say during sex!”

“Are you just constantly horny?” She scowled at him and shoved at his chest.

“Yes, you aren’t?” He argued, stepping aside so she could rinse her hair. She got under the shower spray to rinse and kept glaring at him until she squeezed some shampoo into her palm. “No. Come here.”

He ducked down a little so she could reach, humming contentedly as she ran her fingers through his strands. “Baby.”

“What.” She kept up her faux-anger, but wasn’t really too annoyed with him - he knew it, too.

“I love you.”

She softened, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as she continued to massage his head. “Love you too. Even if you are horny as hell.”

He laughed and accepted her little nudge under the shower so he could rinse her hair. “The showerhead is detachable…”

She looked him over, debating, but her stomach rumbled in protest. “I’m starving. Can’t you get yourself off? You did that just fine without me for three months, I’m sure.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss her shortly. “I did, but it is criminal that we never had FaceTime sex.”

She raised her eyebrows. “My apartment walls were way too thin, and you definitely would have been caught at Colin’s house.” She reached down to run the tip of her finger under the length of his cock, grinning when it twitched. “Enjoy. I’m gonna get ready.”

“Sophie, baby -” He protested, reaching for her, but she just blew him a kiss and got out of the shower. She’d learned that quickies didn’t exist with Rafe, and if she started something in the shower it would be taken out to the bed, then probably go back to the shower afterward.

(She did her makeup in the bathroom just so she could hear his little groans - ones that he definitely played up for her.)

After going to dinner, and getting lost on their way back, they were both thoroughly exhausted for all their walking and their travels. When they crawled into bed after their showers, Sophie snuggled into his side, resting her head on his chest. “Hey, Rafe.”

“Mm?” He hummed, half-asleep already.

“Do you have any special requests for your birthday tomorrow?”

He smirked, sleepy. “Yeah, you wanna wake me up with sex?”

“Like, actually?”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’d do that?”

She shrugged. “If you want.”

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t complain. But just spending the day with you is more than enough.”

“Alright. What time were you born?”

“Uh…” He furrowed his brow. “7:12 am, I think. My mom used to wake me up for my birthday at that time on the dot, every year.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.” She typed something into her phone, then nodded. “Oh, you’re a Virgo rising. That makes so much sense.”

He frowned, sitting up a little. “I’m not a virgin, we had sex two days ago.”

Sophie giggled, not bothering to explain - she’d attempted to before when she was first getting into astrology, and he had just told her he didn’t believe in witches. “Has it been that long?”

“If that’s long to you, baby, I can’t even imagine how difficult three months was.” He quipped, closing his eyes and lying back down.

She rolled her eyes. “Good night. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He murmured, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her close.

The next morning, Sophie woke up and managed to slip out from Rafe’s side, ignoring his grumble and half-hearted, still-asleep attempt to keep her at his side. She went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth then changed into some new lingerie, feeling a little ridiculous, but hoped it’d be worth it. When she returned to the bed, she crawled on top of him, rocking her hips gently against his hard on. “Baby.” She whispered, trailing a finger down his chest.

He stirred only for a moment but pressed his hips up against hers. “Fuck, Sophie, more,” he said and she nearly laughed at his dream mumblings. She ducked down under the covers and kissed along his length, rubbing him gently over his boxers. He woke up just as she was pulling his boxers down, thoroughly confused. “Soph?”

“Good morning. Happy birthday.” She told him with a grin before taking him into her mouth, pushing on his thighs a little when he jerked in surprise.

“Am I still dreaming?” He muttered, pushing back the covers so he could see her head. She licked directly up the underside of his cock, tracing a vein with her tongue. “Nope. Not dreaming.”

“Holy shit.” He breathed out, watching her with wide eyes. “I don’t think I’m gonna last.”

“That’s okay, we can fuck again.” She grinned up at him before taking as much of him as she could into her mouth again, moaning around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and he gathered up her hair carefully. “Fuckin - fuck, angel, faster, please.”

She obeyed, moving her mouth and hand just a little faster. It wasn’t long until he was spilling into her and she swallowed, then kissed back up his body. “Hey.”

“Hey -” He breathed out, jaw hanging open, then stopped. “Wait, what are you wearing?” He took her in with a grin and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand table to get a better view of her, wanting to see her in her full glory. “Is that new?”

She laughed, tugging at her bra strap self-consciously. “Yeah. Thought I could save it as a special birthday surprise for you.”

“Holy fuck, Sophie.” He scrambled for his phone. “I need, like, a picture to remember this or something -”

She was turning red from all his compliments and covered her hand with her face as she whined. “Rafeeee.”

He tugged one hand away, grinning at her. “Please? Just one? Or more than one?”

“Um...okay. Fine. Where do you want me?”

His jaw dropped and he gaped at her, incredulous. “You’re serious? You’ll let me? For real, that’s actually okay with you?”

She bit her lip, smiling. “Yes. As long as you keep it in a locked folder on your phone.”

“Oh my god. I’m in heaven. Is this my birthday present, the lingerie? Or the pictures?” He leaned up to kiss her, needy, and groaned as she rocked against his hips to lean forward.

She pushed him back a little, rolling her eyes. “No, you have a real present.” She stuck her chest out, adjusting the bra so her breasts were nearly spilling out of it, and fluffed up her hair a little. “Snap away, Cameron.”

He paused, waiting for another nod from her, then started taking photos, his eyes blown wide. He reached up and ran his thumb over her lips - she bit down on it gently, smirking at his expression. Rafe groaned just as he looked at her adoringly. “You’re incredible. Beautiful. I need to tell you that more.”

“Shut up.” She blushed more, letting her hair fall in front of her face.

He drank the sight of her in, lingerie and all, then set his phone aside. Abruptly, he grabbed at her thighs to pull her up and she squeaked, caught off guard and fell forward onto him. “Rafe!”

“Come here. Sit on my face.” He commanded, dropping his head back to the pillow.

She pushed herself up to straddle his hips again, wearing an incredulous expression. “You’re insane. I’m not doing that.”

He laughed darkly and curled a possessive hand around her thigh, digging his fingers into her leg just enough. “Yes, you are. Come up here. I need you.”

She could feel her cheeks getting hot from his demanding tone, the way he was taking control. “Rafe, it’s your birthday. Let me just take care of you.”

“You did take care of me, now it’s my turn.” He moved his hand up her leg to rub across her clothed clit, grinning when she gasped and twitched at his touch. “Like you said, it’s my birthday, and what I want you to do is sit on my face. C’mon, baby. I know you’re just dripping for it, absolutely filthy -”

For a moment she nearly considered climbing up on his face right then and there just to get him to shut up, but got too shy and felt her face burning with embarrassment. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“No? You don’t like it?” He continued rubbing slow circles across her clit and grinned when she shifted onto his thigh and moaned. “Hm, that’s what I thought.”

“Rafe.” She protested weakly, her resolve thinning quickly as he flexed his thigh and pushed against her.

“You know what I want my present to be?” He asked.

She started grinding slow against his thigh, trying her best to keep her gaze locked on him. “Hm?”

“I want to make you come. Three times. I know I can, too.”

“I already got you a present.” She mumbled weakly, rocking against him a little faster as her brain began to cloud over. When he shifted a little and flexed his thigh again, she gasped, leaning forward a tiny bit.

He reached up and pushed one cup of her bra down, gripping her breast roughly and pinching her nipple. She bit her lip hard to keep quiet and he shook his head right away. “I want to hear you.”

“Someone’s going to hear.” She protested, whining quietly.

“Let them. I want everyone to know how good I can make you feel.” He shot back.

“We’re gonna get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She argued, rocking her hips a little faster.

“Good. I’ll know I’m doing my job right.”

“Trust me, that’s not an issue,” she muttered darkly, circling her hips on his leg. When she came, whining, she practically collapsed onto him, so sensitive she had to move so his leg wasn’t between hers anymore.

He didn’t care and flipped them over quickly, shoving the sheets down the bed and dragged her panties down and off her legs. “So fucking pretty. Look at you, all wet, you’re so desperate for me, aren’t you?”

“You are on something today, where’s all this coming from?” She shook her head, even though his dirty words had her turned on more than she ever thought they would.

He grinned and kissed up her inner thigh, spreading her legs apart. “You love it.”

“Hm. Do I?”

Rafe moved up to kiss her lips, then down her jaw, then to nip at her throat, although she certainly didn’t need the foreplay. He pulled teasingly on the ends of her hair, a little harder than usual, and stopped abruptly to look up at her when she moaned. “Oh, I forgot, you like it a little rougher, yeah?” He asked in a taunting tone.

She rolled her eyes as she blushed, thoroughly embarrassed by his teasing. “I mean. I wouldn’t mind.”

He paused, thinking. “Do you have anything specific you want to try?”

Sophie didn’t hesitate in responding, knowing she’d chicken out if she didn’t just say it. “Did you pack a tie?”

“...a tie? What for?” He shuffled out of bed, confused, but rifled through his suitcase until he found a nice silk tie, all wrinkled from being forgotten in a spare pocket. He tossed it at her but she held it out. “I can’t tie it myself.”

“Where’s it going?”

She bit her lip as she raised both hands above her head, her wrists pressed together. “Here? But not to the bed, I think that’d be too much.”

He gaped at her for the third time that morning. “You’re sure? You want that?”

“Yeah, is that okay?”

“Yes! Yes. Just unexpected, okay. Okay. We need, like, a safe word or something right, this is some fifty shades shit - is this gonna hurt you? Or fuck, do you want it to hurt?“

She held back a laugh, finding his rambling endearing. “It’s a silk J.Crew tie, baby, not rope. It’s okay. I’ll tell you to stop if I need it.”

“Right. Right. Have you done this before? You seem a little too chill about it.” He put the tie around her wrists hesitantly in a loose knot, making sure she was comfortable before he settled himself back between her legs.

Sophie gave him a little smile, blushing. “No, I just. Thought I might like it and I trust you.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight - you won’t sit on my face but you’ll let me tie you up?”

“It’s different.” She tried closing her legs but he pushed them back open and nipped at her thigh. “Hey. Behave.”

“Yeah? What if I don’t?” She challenged him with a grin, and he just shook his head and teased a finger across her entrance. “Trouble.”

“Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He moved impossibly slow, rubbing two gentle fingers over her clit - she squirmed under him, letting out a little whine. “No teasing.”

“Hm, I think I’m going to tease all I want, with you all tied up. Can’t take control like that.”

She groaned, blinking at him. “I’m already wet, I don’t need to be edged.”

He grinned up at her. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“S’hardly dirty.” She countered, gasping when he caught her off guard with a wide lick up her entrance. “Fuck - I -” She started helplessly as she went to grab his hair, but just had to squirm instead with her hands above her head.

“Do we have plans today?” He questioned, breathing hot air on her clit as he slipped two fingers inside her and curled them toward herself.

“Not til later - oh, there, please -”

Rafe repeated his motions and flicked his tongue across her clit. “What are we doing?”

“Can we not discuss this now?” She argued breathlessly.

“Why, can’t concentrate?” He glanced up, amused. When she went to answer, he just sucked on her clit, making her gasp. “Answer the question, angel.”

“Rafe - fuckin’ - please -” She bit out, unable to think straight. “I’m so close, baby, more -”

He swore there was nothing he loved more than when she’d call him pet names, and the whine certainly added to it. Instead of teasing more, he curled his fingers again and flicked his tongue across her clit, working her through her second orgasm. She’d abandoned all pretense of keeping quiet and gasped out for him, arching her back as she came. When he withdrew his fingers and crawled back up the bed to press them against her lips, she took them easily.

“You are way too fucking good at that.” She breathed out, trying to grab for him again, but cursed when she remembered she was still tied up.

He reached up and untied her with a grin. “You okay? Did it feel alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Though I’m not sure I like not being able to touch you.” She smiled as he pressed gentle kisses to the inside of her wrists.

“Dunno, I think I like when you’re not ripping my hair out when you come.” He grinned, nudging his nose against hers.

She rolled her eyes. “You love that.” She took on a mocking tone, making her voice deeper to imitate him. “Pull my hair, baby - oh, fuck, yes -”

“Hey! I don’t sound like that.” He laughed. “Your sex noises are more embarrassing, anyways, all whiny.”

“They are not embarrassing -”

“You want to record them and see?” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her.

She blushed, shaking her head. “No. Absolutely not. You missed your chance for that the second you came here to see me.”

“Shame. Kind of unfair though, because you definitely got a voice memo or two.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you sent one to me every time you jacked off, that was much more than just one or two. Took my invitation and ran with it.”

He laughed, then reached around and unclipped her bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside, then rested his head next to hers on the pillow. “I love you. So fucking much.”

“Happy birthday.” She smiled. “Love you too, sweet boy.”

He grinned, kissing her sweetly, then stroked his thumb over her cheekbone. “We’re not done yet. I promised you three times.”

She laughed. “Alright, just give me a second to catch my breath.”

Rafe raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “I’m that good, huh?”

She shoved at his shoulder, shaking her head. “You are too damn cocky for your own good. Oh! Here, let me get your present.” She hopped out of bed and pulled out a gift bag from her suitcase, all smushed down and wrinkled, and handed it to him. “Sorry it’s a mess, I had to pack it before you came.”

He sat up with an eager grin, pulling the covers over his lap. “S’okay, I’m sure it’s great.”

She pulled her underwear back on and pulled on a big shirt of his before crawling back into bed, watching him with a smile.

He unwrapped the gift and pulled out a leather jacket, whistling. “Wow! This is awesome, Sophie.”

She beamed, practically bouncing with excitement. “It’s custom fit to your measurements - I had Colin measure that jacket you always wear to be sure - and it’s ethically made. Well, as ethical as you can get with leather, but it’s handmade by this family in Barcelona, so there’s practically no carbon footprint. It’s neutral, at least. No sweatshops or anything.”

He wasn’t quite sure what all of that meant, but grinned at her enthusiasm. “It’s perfect, baby, thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”

Rafe held it up, looking at all the details, then he caught a glimpse of the tag and frowned. It was $300 - he wasn’t sure he wanted to know how many hours of work that was for her paycheck. “Sophie.”

“Just pretend you didn’t see!” She tucked it back in the jacket quickly, wincing.

“I swear this is a double standard...” He started, but decided not to finish his argument - the last thing he wanted to do with her on his birthday was fight about money.

“Don’t care. Let me treat you.” She beamed as he ran his fingers over the leather.

“You never let me treat you.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows and held up her hand with the ring as if to make her point, raising her eyebrows. “Never?”

“That was different, that’s a gift.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, so’s this. C’mon, put it on.”

“What? I’m all sweaty.”

“Just for a little bit.” She pleaded, pushing it toward him. “Please? I want a picture.”

“Oh, so you get nudes too? I thought that was a special birthday present.” He raised his eyebrows, challenging her, and she giggled. “The jacket is the present. Rafe, please?”

He made a show out of huffing and rolling his eyes but held out his hand, sitting up. She grinned and handed it to him, grabbing her phone when he shrugged it on. “Okay, lay back?”

“You’re directing me? Okay.” He laid back in bed, completely naked except for the jacket, his hand tucked behind his head. She beamed and climbed up on the bed to stand over him, just wearing his big t-shirt and her underwear, and arranged the sheets so they were just covering his dick, his chest on full display and his hip and thigh peeking out suggestively.

“Okay. Don’t smile.” She held her phone up high to get the right angle, laughing when he smirked up at her. “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Yeah? Do I get a picture of you in it too?”

“Nope.” She hopped off the bed and held her hand out expectantly for him to take the jacket off. He sat up and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. “Sophie. Shirt off.”

“No.”

He just raised his eyebrows and she gave in with a sigh, tugging it over her head. He nodded, satisfied, and helped her shrug the jacket on. “You’re easy when you’re cock drunk.”

She gasped, shoving at his shoulder. “I do not get cock drunk -”

“You absolutely do!” He laughed, swiping his phone from the bedside table. “C’mon. Pose for me.”

She pretended to blow him a kiss, striking a bunch of poses. He grinned, holding up his phone and taking way too many shots. “There we go, angel. I’m gonna send these in to Victoria’s Secret for you.”

She rolled her eyes and flipped him off for the camera, holding the jacket closed. “Shut up.”

“No. C’mere, pick out which ones I can keep.” He reached over and tugged on her arm and she shrugged off the jacket, carefully setting it on the chair before climbing back into bed, purposely dragging herself across him. He groaned. “Baby.”

“Yes.”

“Can’t do that. I’m almost hard again.”

“Okay. You can fuck me again.” She smirked up at him and he took a deep breath, then handed his phone over. “Choose your photos.”

She flicked through them and deleted a few, then grinned at the one of her flipping him off. Sophie cropped it in a little so it was much less suggestive, her chest mainly covered, and cut it off where the jacket ended, then set it as his lock screen. “There. Now you’ll always remember this whenever you look at your phone.”

“Trust me, sweetheart, there was no chance of me forgetting.” He smirked, glancing at the screen then gave her a sincere smile. “C’mon. We need to shower.”

“No.” She threw her leg over his hips, catching him with her ankle tucked around his thigh and leaned in to kiss him, hard. He groaned against her lips, pulling her closer on top of him. “Sophie.”

“Rafe.” She mumbled, nipping at his lower lip. He nudged his nose against her cheek. “Baby.”

“Just kissing, c’mon.” She argued, even though she rolled her hips against him, felt him stiffening against her, and knew exactly what she was doing.

“It’s never just kissing with you.”

“It was the very first time.” She grinned.

“When you kissed me drunk at the party and then rejected me?” He raised his eyebrows, clutching at his chest in mock pain. “Broke my heart, Flint.”

“And look, now you have me nearly naked in bed in Rome. I think you’re doing just fine, Cameron.” She quipped and he laughed. “Damn straight.” He gripped her hips when she moved to get off him, holding her in place. “Where are you going?”

“Want you on top.” She protested, grinding down against him. His breath caught in his throat and he flipped her over with ease, hooking his fingers in her underwear and dragged them off her legs, pushing one knee to her chest as he did. He reached to grab a condom off of the nightstand and rolled it down himself with a little groan, watching Sophie bite her lip. “Tell me how I got so lucky?”

“You’re such a romantic.” She teased, reaching out for him again. He leaned down and carefully slid into her, squeezing his eyes shut when she moaned at the feeling. “Can’t help it with you.”

“Cheesy.” She accused, gasping when he thrust a little harder.

“Mean.” He quipped, leaning down to kiss her, hard, and she responded eagerly. As much as he tried to hold back, they only lasted a few minutes before they were both coming again, Sophie biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet.

Rafe flicked her chest with a grin as he pulled out of her, shaking his head. “Did you just bite me?”

“We have two more days, we really can’t get kicked out for a noise complaint.” She giggled, smiling up at him with flushed cheeks.

___

The rest of the day was heaven for Rafe - Sophie was touchier than ever, even in public, and absolutely doted on him like it was her job. They wandered around a few tourist sites and by two pm, they’d already split three gelatos upon Rafe’s insistence they had to try ‘just one more flavor.’ He FaceTimed with Colin and James earlier in the day and was grinning ear to ear afterward, claiming multiple times that it was the best birthday he’d ever had.

Around six, after Sophie reluctantly agreed to their fourth gelato of the day, she waited outside in the sun as he went and got their cup to split. When Rafe returned from the shop with gelato for both of them, she covered her phone with her hand. “Thank you. I have someone on the phone for you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Julia and Allie already texted me earlier today.”

She just smiled and handed him her phone - her dad waved at him with a grin on FaceTime. “Rafe, buddy, happy birthday!”

Rafe’s grin was so instantaneous it nearly hurt. “Jeff! Hi, thank you! That’s so nice of you to call!”

“Of course, had to check in on you. How’s your day, been good so far?”

Rafe blushed and shot her a panicked look as Sophie shot him a glare off-camera. “Yes sir, it’s been great. Sophie and I have been exploring the city and stuff, getting to know the history.”

“That’s great, I’m glad. Have any big plans tonight?”

Sophie scooted over so she was on screen. “We do, but he doesn’t know about them yet.”

“Ahh, a surprise. What else have you done, the Colosseum? Vatican City? Your mom would enjoy that.” Jeff grinned as Sophie rolled her eyes. “Dad, I’m not taking him to the Catholic Church on his birthday -”

“I know, Sophie, I was kidding.” He shook his head and Rafe held back a smile. “You have two weeks before school starts, right Soph?”

“Yeah, just need to do a few TA things and get my studio set up. Why?”

“I was thinking, we’d love to have you home for a weekend if you have time before classes start. Rafe, you’re welcome to come over as well.”

Rafe brightened as Sophie nudged her knee against his, smiling. “I’d like that. If Sophie’s not too busy, I mean.”

“No, I think I can figure that out. I miss you guys.” She smiled. “So Rafe gets to stay in my room, right?”

Her dad froze up for a second. “I was thinking the guest room or his own room at his house, actually -”

Rafe’s eyes went wide and he pinched Sophie’s thigh, shaking his head quickly. “I can stay at my house! That’s perfectly fine. She’s kidding. We’re in separate dorms on this trip, so it shouldn’t be any different -”

“Oh my god, no, you’ll stay in the guest room.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Okay, dad, we have to go.”

“Right.” Her dad eyed them skeptically, then smiled. “Well, happy birthday, Rafe, hope it’s a good one. I’m excited to see you both soon.”

“I appreciate it, sir, that means a lot. Thank you.” Rafe beamed, but he could feel his neck getting hot, hoping her dad wouldn’t pick up on his terrible lying.

“Alright. Be safe, you two.” Her dad hung up and Sophie’s cheeks burned a little, feeling he was implying a double meaning. She swatted his chest. “Can’t you control your blush for two seconds?”

“No ma’am.” He replied with a grin. “That was so nice of your dad. Did you ask him to do that?”

“No, he just texted me and asked when he could call. He likes you. Even if you’re a shitty liar.” She gave him a pointed look and he just laughed.

“He’s cool.” Rafe nodded, satisfied. “Man, that was so nice. I can’t believe he thought of me.”

She paused, eating a spoonful of her gelato. “Has your dad said anything today?”

“No, he won’t unless Rose reminded him. But that’s unlikely.” He shrugged. “Sarah and Wheezie texted me, that was nice.”

“Your dad’s not going to call on your birthday?” She frowned.

Rafe shook his head. “No. I’m usually up at school by now anyways, so he forgets. He remembered senior year of high school, but that was because I had a party at my house and asked him if we could string up lights by the pool.”

“Oh. I don’t remember that party.”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Yeah, uh, I didn’t invite you and your friends on purpose. Was trying to keep it lowkey, y’know.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Wait, was that the one that Cassidy Anderson got so drunk at, she had to get her stomach pumped? And Kyle Green broke his ankle -”

“When he tripped into the pool, yeah, that was the one. Word got around that I was having a party, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t end up there anyways.”

She laughed. “Carter went and texted me not to come, he thought the cops were going to show.”

He wrinkled his nose at the memory. “They did. It was bad, Shoupe told my dad and everything, I was in trouble for a month after that.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, skeptical. “I’m sure you being in trouble meant nothing.”

“No, he canceled my golf lessons. That was actually a big deal, he knew I liked them.” He frowned a little.

She bit her lip as she suddenly remembered - her dad came home and told her mom that the big tips from the Camerons were going away, that they’d have to cancel their flights to go visit her in Sophie's first semester of college because they needed the refund as a safety net. It was a big deal that they had even promised to come at all, usually her dad had to work weekends to fit in more lessons and he’d asked off just to come see her.

When Ward canceled the lessons, a few of Rafe’s buddies followed suit and canceled as well - she and Carter went around to every course in the area that week to put up flyers to get their dad more customers. She felt a momentary pang of guilt putting two and two together and shook her head, trying to redirect the conversation. “Right. Um, so you want to head back to the hotel, get ready for dinner? I made a reservation for us at 7.”

“Yeah. You alright?”

She gave him a slightly forced smile. “I’m alright. Let’s go, birthday boy.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, but didn’t push it.

Dinner that night was on the rooftop of a hotel overlooking Rome, and they both dressed nicer than they had the whole trip, with her in a cream colored silk slip dress to complement her tan and him in a pair of nice slacks and a sleek short-sleeved button down. When their waiter came out to greet them with a drink menu, he glanced at Sophie’s attire and her ring and raised his eyebrows. “You are the honeymooners, yes?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “No, sir, the birthday. Under Sophie Flint.”

“Oh! The white dress, I was confused.” Their waiter gave them an apologetic smile. “Here is your drink menu, I will be back.” He returned later with two glasses of complimentary champagne, as well as the bottle of wine they ordered, and apologized again.

When he left, Rafe lifted his glass with a cheeky grin. “To my blushing bride.”

She scowled and stopped just short of kicking him under the table. “Shut the fuck up. Happy birthday.” She clinked her glass against his, shaking her head as he cracked up, thinking it was hilarious. “You’re not allowed to buy me any more rings, this just causes trouble.”

“Good trouble.” He protested and took off his signet ring with his initials, sliding it onto her thumb. “C’mon, you hardly wear any other jewelry daily. I like buying you things.”

“I know you do.” She rolled her eyes and pushed the menu to him. “Here. It’s our last night so go crazy.”

He paused, scanning over the menu. “Are we splitting this?”

“No, it’s your birthday dinner. My treat.” She frowned when he flipped the menu to just the entrees without any meat or fish. “No worrying about money.”

“I’m not. The carbonara at the other table looked good.” He replied, wishing he’d looked at how much the wine was that she ordered and made a mental note to pay for all their meals in the airport.

“You don’t like carbonara.”

“Maybe I do here.”

“Rafe.” She reached over and flicked the menu back to the more expensive options. “Do not hold back. I’m serious. I got this reservation back in June and I have more money left in my budget for this trip than I thought I would by now. Let me do this for you.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. And if you really want the carbonara, I’m getting it, so you can have some.”

He laughed as she reached over and refilled his wine glass. “Trying to get me drunk so I’ll give in?”

“Yeah, will it work?” She grinned.

He just shook his head and took a sip with a smile. “You’re spoiling me today.”

“Yeah, you deserve it.”

They were both giggly and drunk by the time they made it back to their hotel, after missing their metro stop twice. When they finally showered and collapsed into bed - to actually sleep, that time - Rafe hugged her close and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I love you, Sophie. Thank you. So much.”

“Love you too, baby.” She murmured. “My favorite.”

When Rafe’s watch buzzed at 1am the next morning, he stirred a little, going to turn it off, but paused when he saw he had a call from his dad. He carefully untangled himself from Sophie’s koala grip and slipped out of bed, tugging on some joggers and a shirt before heading out to the hotel lobby to answer the call. “Dad? Is something wrong?”

“Can’t I wish my son a happy birthday?” Ward asked.

Rafe relaxed a little bit, settling back against a couch. “Yeah, um, it’s just early. I figured something was wrong with Wheezie or Sarah.”

“Ohio’s got the same time as the Outer Banks, kid.”

“I’m on that trip with Sophie, remember, I told you about it in June? We’re in Rome. I’m going home soon.”

Ward’s tone turned slightly sour as he was reminded. “Right. Forgot. You went all the way across the world for this girl?”

Rafe dug his fingernails into his palm, keeping his tone even. “For my girlfriend, yes. I love her.”

Ward sighed. “I’m sure you think you do, Rafe.”

“I know I do.”

His dad paused before speaking again. “I just don’t understand. You had a perfectly good thing going with Brooklyn, she has a great family. She’s used to our lifestyle.”

Rafe was exasperated, as well as exhausted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She cheated on me, Dad. Do we have to talk about this now?”

“Must have done something to fuck it up.” Ward shot back, taking on a defensive tone.

Sophie had realized she was alone in bed by then and crept out of their room, following the muffled sound of his voice to find him in the lobby. She crossed her arms, frowning, and mouthed ‘come back to sleep.’

Rafe motioned her away and gave her a fake smile, shaking his head. She frowned, not convinced, and came up behind him on the couch, slipping her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

“I didn’t do anything.” Rafe replied curtly, standing to follow her back to the room. He lowered the volume on his phone so Sophie couldn’t hear a single word.

“Right.” Ward was unconvinced. “I’m sure this girl is just with you to get money out of you, don’t let yourself be fooled. I didn’t work this hard for our family just to let you think you’re in love with someone that can’t provide.”

Rafe was too tired to argue and kept his face impassive, wanting to end the conversation sooner than later with Sophie there. “That’s not it.” She took his hand and led him back to their room, staying quiet but watching his expression carefully.

“I’m just looking out for you.” Ward insisted. “You didn’t - you didn’t knock her up. Did you?” He questioned and Rafe wrinkled his nose a tiny bit at his accusatory tone. “No, Dad, of course not.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, surprised that Ward had called, and let them both back into the room. Rafe gave her a quick smile and shut himself in the bathroom, not wanting her to hear any more.

“Oh. Well. Just, be careful.”

“I am. Uh, thanks for calling, I guess.”

“Right. Happy birthday. 21, right?”

Rafe’s face twisted and he was surprised to feel a few tears running down his cheeks as he leaned back against the wall, head hung low. “Close. 22.”

Ward made a small ‘huh’ noise. “22, I knew that. Night, son.”

When Rafe hung up, he let out a choked laugh, pressing the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. Even if it was the first time in a while his dad had called on his birthday, he still couldn’t even remember his age.

Carefully, Sophie opened the door, peering in. “Baby? Are you alright?”

He turned to her with tears in his eyes, trying his best to force a smile, but she realized right away and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. “Come back to bed, Rafe.”

He followed her out and crawled back into bed with her, burying his face against her chest as she combed through his hair. “I deserve better.” He mumbled brokenly.

She frowned. “Of course you do, baby. I’m sorry. What’d he say?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He muttered, and he was so tired that he let his guard down to cry, shoulders shaking a little as he did. Sophie practically clung to him, letting him bury his face in her neck as she stroked her back. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re alright.” She whispered.

He nodded a little, nudging his leg over her waist to draw her closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Rafe, so goddamn much.”

“What time’s our flight tomorrow?” He mumbled against her skin.

“Not til six, we can sleep in if you want.” She pulled back just a little to kiss him, peppering kisses over his cheeks. “I love you. No matter what anyone says.”

He frowned and her heart broke just looking at how defeated he seemed. “You didn’t hear, did you?”

“No. It’s okay. You gotta sleep, baby.” Sophie pulled the blankets back over them, nudging him up so his head was properly set on the pillow, even though she knew he’d have his head on her chest by the time she woke up.

“Soph?” He whispered after a few seconds, sounding close to sleep again.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “Of course. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney @babeyglo

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx fanfic #college rafe #rafe x sophie #mine #frat rafe #outer banks fanfic #obx #outer banks

[babycracker]

Fire Meet Gasoline: Chapter 6

chapter rating: teen & up story rating: explicit pairing: morgan/m!oc (tanner drake) & farah/f!oc (sadie kennedy) word count: ~2.7k chapter warnings: none story warnings: eventual smut, canon-typical violence, au - canon divergent a/n: as you can see, pairings have changed and i've added some warnings for the future bc this entire story has taken an unexpected turn and it's going to be much bigger than manner now. please don't hesitate to let me know if you wanna be taken off of the tags!

read it on ao3 here

--

Sadie was sure that she'd have more time than this. Six months isn't long, after all. Well, technically four months. She's been basically on the run for the last two.

She'd had four months to enjoy being twenty-one before the Agency had contacted her about signing the treaty, and for the two months since not so politely telling them to shove it she'd been dodging the bounty hunter that she'd evidently been assigned to.

He was an idiot. A troll, she was sure of it. Big and imposing and clumsy and menacing… but stupid. She hasn't seen him in a few weeks though, and she's starting to relax, fairly sure that she's lost him.

So, for the first time in the week and a half that she's been in this city she's daring to leave her room at the hostel and check out some of what could well be her new home. She pulls her hoodie on, reluctantly pulling the hood over her head and eyeing the bland grey of the fabric with disdain for a moment. Dreadfully boring, and dreadfully cliché - a banshee roaming around donning a grey hood - but she still needs to keep a low profile. Just for a little bit longer.

Everyone's heard about the supernatural bar in the city, such things are not exactly common, though no one seems to know where it is. It would seem the only way to find out is by word of mouth, and unfortunately she doesn't know anyone here, and she can't exactly go up to random people and ask them where the local supernaturals hang.

It would really be preferable; at just over 4'3 she doesn't exactly fit in with humans, but she supposes she'll just have to make do as she heads down the street. She sticks cautiously close to the buildings, avoiding the laughing groups of people and curiously looking around at the bright and colourful nightlife.

She could get used to this.

But for now, she resigns herself to something less flashy, a not quite as cheerful and slightly shabby bar with a bright green neon sign shining from its façade reading Shakers.

Looks good enough for now, so she steps inside, a grin spreading across her face as she takes in the atmosphere. God she's missed being around humans, and this place is packed with some of the rowdiest ones she's ever seen. Her favourite kind.

There's no dancing space as far as she can see (disappointing) but the bar is huge and there are booths lining every wall, the space in the middle filled with several pool tables.

She weaves her way through the crowd, thankfully remaining largely unnoticed, and slips up onto a stool at the bar, breathing out a sigh of relief now that her height is less obvious. She spins around on her seat, leaning one elbow on the bar and watching a group of guys at the closest pool table, trying (unsuccessfully) to gather some kind of hint at how to play the game, when a voice from behind distracts her.

"What are you drinking, pretty?"

She turns, expecting to find a bartender but instead there's a man on her side of the bar and uncomfortably close, a charming and yet slightly unsettling smile on his face. She forces one to her own to keep her frown away, the eerie sense of this guy being bad news creeping through her mind and making her thoughts slightly foggy.

“I’m really not much of a drinker, thanks anyway.”

He’s good looking enough, blonde hair, bright blue eyes and dimples in both cheeks on proud display as he grins at her. But her advanced senses are ringing every bell inside of her, warning her not to trust him.

“C’mon darl, no one comes to a bar unless they want a drink,” he presses, reaching out and letting his fingertips brush against the sliver of bare wrist peeking out from the sleeve of her hoodie.

She gasps and recoils too fast to be able to reign it in, her face twisting into a frown as she pulls her sleeves down and clutches them in her fists to cover her hands entirely. She really should've worn her gloves.

Demon.

He lifts both hands in front of him, a kind of peace offering, and takes a slight step back. “Woah, take it easy. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“It’s fine,” she clears her throat, hoping it’ll take the obvious rasp out of her voice as she struggles to get any words out at all. He grins and slides onto the stool next to her.

“If I promise not to touch you again, will you come and join us?”

She eyes him carefully for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and giving a small nod. He seems nice enough, respectful enough. And she’s never been given any kind of guarantee that her perception is always one hundred percent accurate. Maybe she gets it wrong sometimes. Maybe she’s been disregarding people her entire life based on what she sees of them on the inside, and some of them didn’t deserve disregarding.

She’s been on her own since she ran away from home after her parents’ relentless persistence that she signed the Agency’s treaty became too much, she could do with some friends. Maybe now she can’t afford to turn down every single person that gives her a slight dishonest vibe. Who is completely honest these days anyway?

He grins again and gets to his feet, nodding towards one of the pool tables as a gesture for her to follow him. “I’m Axle.”

“Sadie,” she replies, reluctantly slipping off her seat and noticing the way he immediately arches an eyebrow at her height. He’s a demon, a supernatural, he’s probably already worked out that she’s not human and she just about winces as she waits for the inevitable questions.

They don’t come, however. He’s either much more polite than she’d expected, naïve and just thinks that she’s short, or he’s already worked out what she is and is choosing to stay quiet about it in this public space.

She follows him over to the pool table where a group of five other men are standing around playing a game, and a brief wave of panic surges through her when she realises that they’re probably all demons. They usually hang out with their own kind, and it would mean that she’s heavily outnumbered by a group of supernaturals far more dangerous and powerful than she is.

They barely spare her a glance though as she comes to stand at Axle’s side, and he barely offers an introduction in turn, instead waving his arm around the group and simply referring to them as “the guys”.

It’s probably for the best. She can handle one demon, should the need arise, she can slink away from him unnoticed, but once she has the attention of an entire group of them she’s not exactly sure how she’d get away if she needed to.

--

For someone that doesn’t talk a whole lot, Morgan sure spends a lot of time on the phone. Tanner hadn’t expected her to be so… clingy. She seems to really miss the rest of Unit Bravo now that she’s stuck away from them, which seems strange to him given that he’d assumed she wasn’t so different from him and would enjoy the break and getting to do her own thing (apart from having to work with him, of course) for a while.

But she’s on the phone again. Granted, she’s talking to Adam about their mission, but still. The number of questions she’d had about what they were supposed to do had been alarming to Tanner until he’d realised that she was most likely just coming up with the need for so much clarification as an excuse to speak to someone from her team.

Whatever her reasons though, he’s bored. He gets bored quite often with her, he realises, and he finds himself watching her on the other side of the room from where he’s kicked back on the couch, obviously and shamelessly checking her out as she paces and speaks in a hushed voice into the phone. Maybe it’d be different if he worked with her a little more; in regard to both her flirtation and their current job. At first, it’d been fun to irk her and get on her nerves but it’s already starting to get old - even for him - and he decides that maybe he should make more of an effort to be agreeable if they’re going to be stuck together for now. Or he could at least sleep with her. That might relieve some of her tension and get her to stop being such a hardass, at least.

She runs a hand through her hair and turns to face him, scowling when she notices his attention and lifting her middle finger at him before turning away.

He grins and sits up straight when she finally ends the call and turns to face him again.

“They want us to go to that bar tonight,” she tells him before he has a chance to say anything, and he groans dramatically and slides down to a slouching position, throwing his head back against the back of the couch and closing his eyes.

“It’s all work with you,” he complains, opening his eyes again when he hears her moving and watching her cross the room and start to pull her jacket on.

“We are on a job at the moment, so yeah, it’s all work.”

“You know this place isn’t gonna be like Mickey’s, right?”

She pulls a face, only small and only for the briefest second but he catches it anyway and for the first time sees how uncertain she is about having to be in that kind of environment.

“You gonna be good?” he adds, trying to sound at least a little sympathetic.

It actually surprises him how much he cares about how much this is going to affect her, and not just for the job. It’s going to be a pain in the ass, definitely. Having to keep an eye on her and make sure she’s not overwhelmed while trying to do his job at the same time, but more than that, whenever he thinks about how painful this is going to be for Morgan his stomach twists slightly, churning uncomfortably and making him feel… he doesn’t even know. Worried? Is this what worry for somebody else is?

Probably not. He’s probably just dreading having to babysit her.

--

He can already practically hear her teeth grinding by the time they get to the door of Shakers, let alone inside. They can hear (to be fair, godawful) rock music as well as the noise of what sounds like a pretty big crowd through the door, and he casts a glance in her direction. Her jaw’s clenched, brow furrowed, and eyes narrowed as she stares at the door before turning to the side and meeting his gaze.

“What? We going in or not?” she snaps, and he shrugs and waves a hand at her, gesturing to her general demeanour.

“I dunno, are we?”

She rolls her eyes and steps away from him, but he sees her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath before pushing the door open.

It’s loud. Really loud. Not too bright at least, but even he immediately catches the faint scent of alcohol, cigarettes and weed in the air. He can only imagine how strong it is to her.

His concerns for her are quickly overshadowed though when it takes less than a minute for his eyes to land on a group of men playing pool near the back of the room. He recognises them straight away, which means that they’re going to recognise him straight away and they’ll be gone before he and Morgan have gotten anywhere near them.

“Shit,” he mutters, ducking his head and turning to face Morgan more so as to turn himself away from them.

“What?” she snaps, glaring at him and not seeming to realise that something’s gone wrong, too caught up in trying to distract herself from the sensations bombarding her.

“I know them,” he answers distractedly, looking her up and down for a moment before casting a quick glance around the room in search of somewhere quieter. Something that doesn’t seem to exist in this bar.

He grabs her hand and pulls her over to the bar, nudging her to sit up on one of the stools and standing beside her, draping an arm over her shoulders and leaning in close to her. The close contact seemed to work the previous day when she was starting to become overwhelmed on the street outside, there’s no reason to think that it won’t work again in here.

“What do you mean you know them?” she asks, her voice a little less impatient as she leans back against him slightly, and he doesn’t miss the soft sigh of relief she lets out as he feels her body start to relax a little.

He doesn’t know why physical contact with him, of all people, seems to help her out but he’s going to count it as a bonus when it means that he’s able to set her at ease enough for her to function in these situations.

He glances back towards the pool table, but looks away again just as quickly, leaning down closer to Morgan to hide his face when he sees that the group are starting towards the door.

“They know you?” Morgan finally seems to click on, looking quickly towards the group and then back at him, and he only just realises how close he’s gotten to her when her nose just about brushes against his when she does it.

“Mhm,” he distractedly hums in reply, and she studies him for a moment before a small smirk crosses her face.

“I’ve been trying to get this close to you since we met, and now you’re telling me all it would’ve taken was a few demons to scare you?”

This bitch. He frowns at her, his arm dropping away from her shoulders as he straightens up again and moves away from her, temporarily forgetting that he’s trying to hide himself.

“I am not scared.” He spits indignantly.

Of all the things for her to say. Scared.

“You sure, sweetheart?”

Condescension drips from every word and his frown deepens into a glare. “Fuck you.”

“They’re going to see you,” she ignores his insult and nods behind him, and his eyes dart towards the group that have thankfully already moved past him when he remembers that whatever she thinks about him, them seeing him would be a disaster and if they knew that he was after them they’d be looking for them for weeks.

He subtly watches them go, waiting until the last two people are through the door, a blonde guy and a freakishly short girl, and then grabs Morgan’s hand and pulls her off of the stool. “Come on.”

He practically drags her out onto the street, making sure to keep a fair distance away from the group without losing sight of them through the crowd until he realises where they’re going.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Morgan mutters from beside him, obviously realising the same thing at the same time, and he stops and watches them step through the doors of the same motel that they’re staying in.

He grins and looks over at her, letting go of her hand. “Our job just got a whole lot easier.”

“You think?”

He doesn’t bother answering, just heads towards the motel once he’s sure that they’ve had a chance to get to their room and he’s not about to run into them in the lobby.

He’s stayed here countless times, he knows pretty much the entire reception staff, it shouldn’t be too hard for him to find out what room they’re staying in and pay them a visit when they’re not expecting it. Then all he needs to do is convince Morgan that he doesn’t need her help with his next job, they can go their separate ways, and everyone will be happy.

--

tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @admdmrtn @masonsfangs @homeformyheart @mmerengue @agentsunshine @bravomckenzie @freckles-spangledvampire @mistyeyedbi @kelseaaa @fhauvilles @amlovelies @forestcreatures @maraudern05 @kat-tia801 @alyssalauren @agentnolastname @utterlyinevitable @masonscig

#twc writing #the wayhaven chronicles #unit bravo #a du mortain #n sewell #f hauville #twc morgan #tanner drake #sadie kennedy #fire meet gasoline #chapter update #n*fw #kat writes

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You Pt. 5 ⏤ Oscar Díaz.

Summary:  You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 2K+

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Hola!!!! Hope everyone is safe at home! This continues the story as a some sort of a series re-write. It won’t be something of all the episodes but the main ones of where Spooky appears. Hope you guys like this and always feel free to leave some feedback is so appreciated it.  | MESSAGE BOX | HAPPY READING!!!

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

Title: Ain’t Nobody Business 

Chapters: Uno - Dos - Tres - Cuatro

“There is enough food in the fridge to last you at least two weeks,” you told Cesar as you left the bags of extra things for him on top of the counter. “Clean towels and bed sheets in the closet.” 

Cesar looked around your apartment in silence. His body language told you he was deeply unsure about him staying here. 

“It’s not much but… is quiet,” at that moment Lunch Money started to loudly sound in the background. You turned around to see Jasmine dancing to it in the backyard. Your eyes went back to Cesar, “Ish.” 

He gave you a flat smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s the last I can do…” you told him. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, “How can someone like you be with someone like my brother?” Cesar’s words were cold and filled with resentment towards his brother. You sighed softly holding both arms crossed onto your chest. 

“Oscar is going through a lot right now,” you told him, “he didn’t want this for you. It’s-,” you let out a sigh trying not to say too much, “it’s complicated, mijo.” 

“Everything is always so fucking complicated and I’m not your mijo.”

“Damn,” you scoffed, “for someone who hates his brother, you damn sure act like him.” Cesar rolled his eyes looking away. “That’s just life, Cesar,” you said. “For now, tienes un techo y comida and you don’t have to sleep inside a car by the street or random hostels. You’re safe here.” 

It was hard for Cesar to see the good in this fucked up situation, after all he was just a kid to have all these problems and to be out of a home. He looked at you with sad eyes before sitting on your bed. “I’m here because Monse is making me say yes to this but… thank you, you’re right I hate my brother but you’re good for him.”

“I’ll see you at school,” you said softly, “try to stay out of trouble. Por favor.” 

Cesar nodded and the corner of your lip curved. Grabbing your bag from the counter you walked out of your place with a duffle bag hanging from your shoulder and strolled to Oscar’s. There were a couple of Santos in his front yard as usual. All of them giving you respectful nods as you made your way into the house. 

Oscar got startled by the loud sound of your duffel bag when it hit the floor. He was cooking something in the kitchen. You chuckled at the way his entire body shook. 

“¿Todo bien?” 

Oscar shook his head, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“The big bad Spooky,” you mocked. 

He clicked his tongue, “Shut up.” Once finally in front of him, he held you by the waist and placed a kiss on your lips. “How'd it go?” He looked you in the eye, silently allowing himself to show the worry he felt through his eyes. 

You gave him a look that let him know he was being well taken care of. Since Oscar was a kid taking care of his little brother has been his only job. He might not have taken the best decisions while doing so but making sure he was okay was always his priority. 

“Cesar is at my place and for now he is safe but…” you sighed, “he is a kid, Oscar. He shouldn’t be in the streets. He needs his brother, he needs to be in his home.” 

Oscar clenched his jaw, having a seat in his small dining room. 

“¿Tu crees que yo quiero que el este en las calles?” he told you, his eyes still full of worry. “Es mi hermano y lo amo pero… esto es complicado.”

You sat across the table from him, “I get that is complicated but there has to be a way to make this right. How long until the prophets know he’s staying at my place? Or something worse happens…” 

“Don’t say that,” he cut you off.

“He is not part of The Santos anymore, you can’t protect him,” you told him. “I know his friends are scheming and trying to look for solutions.” Standing up you looked down at him, “You should do the same.”

Oscar arched an eyebrow, “Do you have any ideas?”

“Maybe start with your boss, Cuchillos?” 

His shoulders tensed at the sound of the name Cuchillos, standing up he stood tall in front of you. “Cuchillos was the one who told me to kick him out, unless I have a good plan that benefies her, I can’t speak about it.” 

You caressed his arm trying to soothe the stress away, “We will figure this out… I don’t know how but encontraremos la manera.” Oscar kissed your forehead, holding your face with his hand.

After the small intimate moment you went into his room and smiled at the smell of Fabuloso. “Did you clean?” You shouted from the room.

Oscar appeared behind you, “Si.” He leaned against the door frame watching you place your bag on top of his well made bed.  

“Where can I put my things?” You asked him. 

He smirked as he walked behind you and reached his dresser opening the first two drawers of it. “Here,” he said and then opened the closet, “and here.”

“You really made some space for me…” you were a bit shooked of how much space Oscar had created for you. He was looking at you with sparkles in his eyes. 

“Wanted you to feel at home so…,” he held your hand and walked you down the hall and into an empty room. In there there was a made up desk and chair, right in front of the window. You recognized the room from years ago, it was his mother’s room.

“You,” you turned to look him in the eye, “you did this for me?” 

He shrugged, the small smirk didn’t vanish, “I know you’re going to need a quiet space to work and there’s always people here… I can’t expect you grading papers by the kitchen when there’s a lot of guys just shouting by the window.” 

You tiptoed your way to his lips, giving him a soft long kiss.

“I guess you liked your small office,” he whispered. 

“I love it,” you said, looking over your shoulder at the space, “but I know it was your mother’s room… It looks like it’s never been used.”

“Is because I haven’t,” he said. “When she died I got rid of all her stuff except this,” he reached the desk and grabbed an old notebook from it. “It was her… kind of a diary. It was the only thing that wasn’t toxic..” 

He held onto that notebook like it was the only good memory he had of his mom and maybe it was. You kissed his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Is nothing,” he whispered back. 

“It is,” you said softly, caressing the side of his face. “You are making sure I am comfortable here and that I feel like home. I love that and… I love you.” 

Oscar’s eyes sparkled when he heard the words I love you. He instantly began to kiss your lips. The soft kiss turned into a more passionate one in a matter of seconds. Your body began to get heated. Leaving the notebook back on top of the desk, he then proceeds to lift your body and carry you into the bedroom. 

/ / / 

You were woken up by a chicano rap sounding loudly from the backyard. Letting out a harsh groan you stood up from Oscar’s bed and walked out of the room. The house was empty but it smelled like someone just lit a cigarette, the smoke was still floating around. Following the music you walked to the backyard to find Oscar and Sad Eyes working on the red chevy impala. 

A smirk formed on your face, watching how sexy Oscar looked working on his beloved car. Sad Eyes cleared his throat when he noticed your presence. Your boyfriend's eyes met yours in a matter of seconds, then his sight went down to your body, chucking to himself. 

You looked down and remembered you were only wearing your Selena shirt. 

Oscar got off his car hood and walked towards you, “Buenos dias.” 

The smile on your face was kissed by his lips, “Buenos dias.” 

He pulled back, looking down. “Nice shirt.” 

“I know, right?” You winked turning around and walking back inside to get ready for the day. 

You weren’t surprised to see Oscar’s fridge to be fully stocked and the coffee freshly made in the coffee pot. He was the leader of a dangerous Mexican gang but damn was he domestic as fuck. You began to make breakfast for you and the two cholos working hard outside. 

“¿Que haces ma’? Oscar entered the kitchen sweat spots showing on his grey tank. 

“Making breakfast for us and Sad Eyes,” you said going back to chopping chilli peppers. 

He slipped the tank off his muscular body as he walked towards the bathroom. “Sad Eyes went home to his ruca. I’m taking a shower.” 

“More for me,” you muttered as you shrugged. 

“Heard that!” He shouted from the hallway, making you laugh.

While Oscar took a shower you continued to cook the rest of the breakfast. You made scrambled eggs with tomatoes and chilli peppers, toast and bacon. Once those were done you served it nicely on a plate and poured coffee for the two. 

“Yo, that smells amazing,” he walked into the kitchen.

Sitting down you shrugged smugly, “¿Que? You think you’re the only one who knows to cook?”

Oscar sat down smirking, “No, reina. You do your thing too.” 

“You better say that,” you said as you began to eat.

“Damn,” he said as soon as he took the first bite and continued to eat.

It was nice to see him eat and enjoy your food. When you two were teenagers you didn’t have this domestic feel, not even weeks ago when you were sleeping with each other. He would always cook or you would always have to run out the door. Staying with him was giving your relationship a whole new aspect and to be honest, you liked it. 

“Good?” You had a sip of your coffee. 

“So fucking good,” he said between bites.

You smiled, “It was made with love.” Oscar’s eyes looked up and shot a wink as he continued eating. “Are you driving me to work?”

“Do you want me to drive you to work?”

“Si.” You said without hesitating. 

Oscar licked his thumb, “What about your co-workers and shit?”

You shrugged, “I told you I don’t care what people say. I’m with you and if they have something to say, they better not say it to my face because I’ll react.”

He was so proud and turned on by your sassiness and by how sure of what you wanted you were. “I’ll drive you, chula.”

You were biting on your bacon when he said that, smiling you winked at him and continued to have the rest of your food. 

He drove you to the school, his hand rested on top of your thigh through the short trip. This type of normal was new for you two but it felt good for both. 

“Look at us being official and shit,” Oscar said, “you made me breakfast, me driving you to work. You are staying with me.” He held your hand and kissed the back of it. 

You leaned towards him and kissed his cheek, “I love it.”

“Yo mas,” he said back. 

He pulled over by the school just in the same moment Cesar and his friends were strolling in. All of them instantly spotted the bright red Chevy and began to whisper between them. You also spotted the principal waiting outside the school. 

“Ma’,” Oscar held your hand before you could step out of the car.

You looked into his eyes, “Mhm?” 

“Careful,” he almost whispered. 

You nodded as you gave him a soft smile and stood out of his car. You ignored the stares some of the students were giving you and strolled into the school. As you continued to walk towards your classroom the principal Ms. Gonzales joined. 

“Good morning,” she spoke after clearing her throat.

Taking a deep breath in, you looked at her and smiled. “Buenos dias.” 

“I noticed that Spooky dropped you off at school today?”

“I’m sorry,” you stopped walking and stood in the middle of the hallway.

“I don’t want to seem like I am in everyone’s business-,”

“That’s something everyone says when they are about to get in someone’s business.” 

She fixed her glasses, arching her eyebrow, “Spooky is the leader of the Santos and I don’t like to explain to the parents of the students that one of my teachers is dating the leader of a gang and also teaching history.”

“My personal life doesn’t take any of my capabilities of teaching these kids.”

“Well, it does get in the way of the image of this school.”

You rolled your eyes not believing what she was saying, “Image? Are we in fucking Brentwood? We have gang members as students, there’s no image to keep up. This is Freeridge.”

Gonzales' eyes went wide open after you cursed in front of her face. “Y/N that is not the proper language to use with your boss.”

“¿Y estar de metiche en mi vida personal lo es? I’m sorry Mrs. Gonzales but what I do outside or work or who I date is none of this school or your business.”

Part Seis

tags are open

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[no-dull-days]

Bogota, Colombia

Exploring Bogota's Misunderstood History

Three weeks in to Colombia, I headed to the infamous Bogota . As dawn approached, I arrived at the North Terminal. 14 hours had passed during the night bus from Popayan. The trek to Bogota took us through the Andes mountains, hairpin curves, and peculiar weather. I was suspicious as we drove by uneasy scenery. I’d researched every other destination prior to arrival. Bogota was the exception.

History: During the 1980’s & 90’s Bogota was the most dangerous city in the world. I'll bet you think it's danger emanated from drug cartels…More people were killed in Bogota by buses and cars than by military or political problems. Children feared being hit by a car, truck, or bus. Public transportation was a mafia run business. Buses would block traffic or run people over on the sidewalk. The people of Bogota were ashamed of the city. There was a lack of infrastructure coupled by low security and high safety concerns. Residents had zero faith in the future. Leaders didn’t know where to go or what to do. Bogota had no vision, no model and no money. It was known as the worst place in Latin America.

In 1998 Enrique Peñalosa was elected mayor of Bogota. During a visit to Europe, Peñalosa said, “as a fish needs to swim, we need to walk. Not in order to survive, but in order to be happy.” In regards to Bogota, Peñalosa was convinced, crime and poverty were connected to Bogota’s design — how the city was structured.

Something had to be done, considering Bogota’s population grew from 100k to 7 million in 100 years. Peñalosa created automobile restrictions. In the following ten years, Bogota’s murder rate fell a whopping 70%! From the highest in the world to less than that of Washington DC.

Bogota’s bus system was modeled after a Brazilian city. Today, Bogota has an internationally acclaimed bus system. Public transportation has brought the community together. Take Avenida el Dorado— there’s what seems to be endless miles of road dedicated solely to pedestrians. On Sundays, over a million people show up to ride, walk and socialize. It’s the safest place in the city. By way of urban design, a city for the people was created.

It changed beyond belief. We changed the city more for people than for cars.

— Enrique Peñalosa

As a statement of priorities, Avenida el Dorado was built to go through the poorest communities. It’s the longest pedestrian walkway on the continent. Buses and parks are all connected causing entire neighborhoods to interact. When communities know one another, crime rates fall and the quality of life improves. Locals even denounced those who violated the system.

Public transportation was a multi billion dollar industry. By placing mafia members on the board of directors and giving them stock options, the system evolved. A power play considering the mob could crush the city.

Bogota’s large sidewalks show people are equally or more valuable than automobiles. These and other changes made it more difficult for people to access businesses which led to a movement to impeach Peñalosa. People soon realized public interests come before private interests. This urban design proclaims a bicyclist is just as important as a $30,000 automobile. Bogota’s mayor, Peñalosa, left office with the highest approval rating of any mayor in history.

This is one iota of Bogota’s history. The powerful drug cartels of the 80s who ruled cities such as Medellin, Bogota, and Miami were historical times no doubt. Seeing the murals, sites, and stomping grounds of these tumultuous times was spine-tingling.

I explored the Halls of Justice where Supreme Court Justices were assassinated and many others were killed or held hostage. I’ve watched dozens of documentaries on Colombia and Pablo Escobar’s reign over Bogota. Walking around the city was like being in a history book.

The history was so thick, it almost rivaled The Lost City of Petra’s history! Escobar and the drug cartels pillaged Bogota and ran the city at some points. Escobar practically owned the police. He was both loved and hated by fellow Colombians. He also made the Forbes Top 10 List. Netflix’s, ‘Narcos’, does a great job of documenting what happened during this time. Both enthralling, and terrifying.

My Experience: Upon arrival, I had no plans. My Spanish had drastically improved. I was sociable, yet cautious. Violent crime still occurs at random. After Cartagena, I discovered it was tough finding a place to stay in advance. Taxis can be dangerous and I didn’t know how far I’d be from my destination. There were times I’d arrive in a new city, by plane or bus after dark. I didn’t think it was wise to take a bus or walk through unfamiliar neighborhoods. Speaking far from perfect Spanish and carrying thousands of dollars of electronics didn’t ease the situation.

All through Colombia, ATMs dispense pesos. Many of the bills are COL$50,000 and finding change can be difficult. Exchange rates and small bills was another barrier. If you’re traveling to Colombia, I’d recommend learning how to count to 100,000 in Spanish.

I rented a room in the common style five bedroom home for COL$50,000/24 hours. This gave me time to make plans, look at a map and figure out where I wanted to stay thereafter. I had a queen bed with a private bathroom. 15 minutes later, I was walking to another bus. I paid special attention to the landmarks because addresses were beyond my understanding. Getting lost was no fun.

Perhaps my favorite thing to do in Bogota was play tejo. Tejo can be played for fun with points or in professional tournaments. The object of the game is to throw fairly heavy discs at small triangle packets filled with gunpowder. Points are acquired when there’s a ferocious bang! They sound like revolvers firing at random. It’s fun playing in lanes with 30 people. It sounds like a fire fight. Only difference is, everyone’s drinking beers and smoking various substances. Players stand about 40 feet away and the gun powder packets are about 3 inches. They sit in a clay bay at a 45 degree angle.

Aside from tejo, sampling mouthwatering exotic fruits was a meal in itself. I sampled literally dozens of fruits I never knew existed. Fruits with vibrant colors and bizarre shapes with funky names. Outrageous natural flavors. I’d return to Bogota just for the fruits!

Though Bogota’s fruits were an enlightening experience, it made me sad and angry. I thought of Monsanto — the massive evil corporation based in the US that’s burned farmers in more ways than god intended. I thought of the politicians and lobbyists that support GMOs — special seeds created from the same corporation that developed Agent Orange in Vietnam.

Between fresh fruits in Bogota, godly organic produce in the rural Nicaraguan mountains and Panamanian islands, I practically had steam coming outta my ears. I drank water from a stream near Ecuador. It was the purest, most amazing water I’ve ever had. If you know what food and water should taste like, it should make you absolutely livid that corporations and politicians are taking control of our food supply and destroying our water for bigger profits.

La Candelaria: I made a friend at the bus stop who guided me to La Candelaria in Bogota. La Candelaria is a hipster neighborhood that reminded me of Berkeley and San Francisco. Graffiti on every corner, VW’s, head shops, music stores, and reggae music all flooded by local college students.

The nightlife here was unique. Hundreds of people mingled throughout the area on bicycles and mopeds. The energy was comforting and it was refreshing to meet a wide array of travelers in this area who spoke broken English.

The daunting feelings of massive Bogota subsided when I found a great hostel in this neighborhood. I got a private room and bathroom for COL$60,000/night. I met other international travelers. I had a solid internet connection, private living quarters, a hot shower, and food from all over the world in my neighborhood.

In the following days, I explored the city on bicycle — by guided tour and on my own. Two friends and I rode around for five hours with a Bogota local. We saw cemeteries, tasted the world’s finest coffee, learned about political graffiti, human rights, Pablo Escobar, terrorism, cocaine, Buddhism, the upper class, and people who lived in sewers. We learned about the Emerald Industry and agriculture.

Attractions: The city of Bogota, home to about 10 million people, is a massive city. It resides at 8,660 ft in the Andes Mountains. The air is a little thin, but I got used to it. You’d really need many months to see everything the city has to offer. I enjoyed the hike to the top of the Monserrate.

Monserrate is a mountain that dominates the city center of Bogota, the capital city of Colombia. It rises to 10,341 ft above the sea level, where there is a church built in the 17th century. — Wikipedia

Bolivar Square is a huge plaza with government buildings, tremendous history and usually the location of concerts and festivals. It’s a great place to socialize and take in the open air. I also enjoyed the Bogota Botanical Gardens. It too was a nice place to casually walk around, mingle, and learn something new.

However, I enjoyed Parque 93 moreso. It reminded me of Golden Gate Park in San Francisco where singles, families, couples, bikers, and dog walkers all come together for lunch, reading the newspaper, and snoozing in the sunshine. The bike tour was probably my favorite though. There’s a number of companies throughout the city. If you’re looking for nightlife in Bogota, I can vouch for that too. If you’re a social butterfly, workaholic, party animal, foodie, or entrepreneur, Bogota has plenty to offer.

[manggojooz]

Pick A Side (Part 6)

pairing: Taehyung x reader

word count: approx. 2,900 

genre: university!au; angst; romance; slice of life stuff

warnings: references to school bullying; references to voyeuristic behaviour

previous part: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

taglist: @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul @ximaginx @honeyursosweet @coffeecupyoongs @bangtanbaesstuff

“So you see, although it’s so tiny, it’s actually really good and the colours turn out really nice and saturated. You can even use it on a GoPro mount, a drone or a normal tripod. Oh wait, I have one aerial photo I took not long ago, let me show it to you...”, Haejoong digs out his phone to exhibit an aerial shot of a sunset, which he took using the tiny camera he was introducing to you.  

“Wow, that is beautiful! Guess I need to save up money to buy one of these little things. How can they be so small yet so expensive”, you pouted.  

As the two of you browsed the camera shop filled with a myriad of photographing equipment, someone called you on your phone. You always hesitated picking up unknown numbers but Haejoong was looking at you peculiarly so you decided to just pick it up.  

“Is this Y/N?”, the caller enquired in a stiff tone.  

“Yes, speaking”, at least you were able to conclude it was not a spam call.  

“I’m Helen from the Student Office, we need to speak to you about something urgently, is it convenient to drop by before close of business?”

You were puzzled as to why you were required to attend, and to be honest, a little scared. It must have been apparent on your face.  

“Who was that? Are you alright?”, Haejoong was concerned from seeing your expression.  

“It was the Student Office, they told me to go over before end of the day. I’m not sure what it’s about either, but she sounded really serious”, you said as you realised he was looking at you quizzically.  

“If you are worried I can go with you...”

“It’s ok, I...”, the worry on your face was growing proportionately to the number of worst case scenarios that you were imagining.  

“Y/N, remember what I said... you don’t have to do this alone, I’m on your side now”, he said as his voice radiated a sense of reassurance.  

---

You sat across from the lady known as Helen. Her forehead was all wrinkled up and her face was as stiff and angular as her voice.  

“Ms. Y/N, are you sure you want your friend to stay here instead of have him wait outside?”, Helen warned, “It’s going to be a difficult conversation to sit through.”  

Haejoong looks at you, waiting for your cue, as to whether he should stay or leave. You had no idea what got into you, whether it was trust you had in him or just your fear of facing the unknown alone. You just knew that you would rather he stayed. While there was a foreboding feeling, you haven’t done anything you had to hide, at least not after you entered this university.

“Yes, I'm sure, Ms. Helen, he can stay.”  

“Ok, if you say so, take a seat then, both of you...”. She takes a slow deep breath as though she was preparing herself for what was to come. The randomness of this intense situation that befell you is increasingly generating waves of anxiety within you.  

“It has come to our attention that someone has been circulating salacious photos of one of our students in a university-related forum. Some of these photos were taken from within the girls’ hostel and based on our preliminary investigations there appears to be some speculations... and I stress that, at this moment they are just pure speculations... that the person who took and uploaded the photographs is you, Ms. Y/N.”  

You had absolutely no idea what she was talking about and stared at her in confusion and horror, mainly confusion, from trying to understand what she just explained. She turns her computer screen to face you so that Haejoong and you could see what was reflected on it.  

The face of the victim was blurred out in the photographs, but from the clothing, the posture, the likeness, it was not difficult to identify her. It was Jihyun.  

Your hands snatched up the computer mouse, scrolling through the “evidence” to confirm your own speculation. There was no doubt it was her.  

The photos were voyeuristic to say the least. One showed her walking up a flight of stairs in a skirt, taken from below and was angled just enough to not fall into the category of indecent exposure but with ample room for suggestiveness. Who would do such a thing? Another series was zoomed closely into various parts of her body. Why were all of the photos of Jihyun? And then the most disturbing collection were taken of her in her room, through her window. There was even a video; although the curtains were drawn, her silhouette was cast on the curtains, and anyone would be able to tell that it was a video of her changing. What... why... how... And the speculations were that you did this?  

“This is really absurd. Why would Y/N do this? She’s not someone who would do something like this. There must be a misunderstanding”, Haejoong jumps in impatiently as he watches your speechless form frowning and gaping at the screen.  

“I know it now all sounds absurd, but as the issue has been reported by a few students and the victim is also aware of the matter, we have to conduct investigations. We just have to speak to anyone who may be involved in any way...”, Helen reaffirms that this was just part of the due process.  

You hastily scrolled down the forum page and the comments were as ludicrous as you thought the whole situation to be:  

“Isn’t that Kim Jih**n from the arts faculty? Woah she has a good body~”  

“Kekeke heard she stole someone’s boyfriend not long ago, is this how love rivals take revenge nowadays?”  

“Must have been taken by someone who has access to the girls’ dormitory, and wow look at that video!”

“Karmaaaa’s a bitch for her! Didn’t she steal Y*/N’s boyfriend recently? Heard Y*/N joined the photography club, lol. Didn’t you guys see her carrying around a huge camera with those paparazzi-like lenses?”

Yes, your dorm room was located in the block opposite from Jihyun’s and you stayed just one floor above her but...  

It feels all too familiar again, where do you even begin to defend yourself? And then you saw another comment that had received a tonne of upvotes:  

“Y*/N was a bully in high school too. People are just so consistent, look at how she’s bullying her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend now...”  

Your chest clenches tightly and so did your hands, your breathing was visibly heavier and the bridge of your nose seared, before tears welled up in your eyes. 

Haejoong darts across the room to where the tissue box was, bringing it back for you in a split second, and then fussing over you, “Y/N, stop reading those things.” He proceeds to snatch the mouse away from you to close the browser.  

Helen couldn’t help but sigh, “I’m sorry I had to call you here, but you know how such things are. It’s always very sensitive and if we didn’t even call you in for a talk like this, it will be difficult to explain ourselves. What more when there is no other lead, and your name keeps popping up in-”

“So you are just going to use her as a scapegoat?! All these are just speculations, rumours!”, Haejoong was starting to raise his voice and through your sniffling, you grabbed onto his arm, indicating for him to calm down.  

---

The ordeal was eventually over and you were only told to lie low, until they finish the investigations. You walked out of the Student Office in a daze, Haejoong following close beside you.  

“Y/N was a bully in high school too...” The words devoured you in every way possible.  

“Y/N”, a suppressed voice rang in your ears. “Y/N!”, a sharp tug, you were spun around and your face came an inch away from a vast whiteness. You snapped out of your daze and realise your nose was almost buried in Haejoong’s shirt-covered chest. You turn to look behind you and sees that you were just a hair’s breadth away from the edge of a flight of stairs.  

“You could have hurt yourself, walking like that”, your reliable companion chided. 

“You don’t seem to think it is possible that I was the one who did it. Why?”, you asked abruptly, your face tilting up to look at him, and your eyes peering into his. 

“What do you mean why? You wouldn’t do something like that.”  

“Something like what? How long do you even know me? How do you know what I’m capable of doing or not? I could have been a bully in high school like they said, and I could have done those things! How would you know that I didn’t!”, you felt like you were taking out your frustrations on him.  

“Fair enough, I don’t know you for very long. But I know that you are not a bully, and you definitely did not do those things to Jihyun”, he sounded like he was preaching your infallibility.  

“Why? Why are you taking my side so unconditionally? What if my side is the wrong side?”, you rebuked.  

“Then, I’ll stand with you on the wrong side, and we can make it the right one”, the speed of his words fast, the timbre of his voice strong.  

That is... not what you would want.  

“Why would you do that for me?”, you glowered.  

“Because I like you...”, he utters a weirdly-timed confession.  

That is... not right.

“... even if it really were you, you must have a reason for doing it. It takes two hands to clap, knowing Jihyun, she must have-”, he sounded more determined than ever.  

That is... a reasoning that will kill the victim twice.  

“Stop!”, you voice shook with outrage. “This is wrong. You are wrong... I must have made a mistake...”, you scoffed, more so to yourself.  

“About what?”, his forehead tightens to a frown of befuddlement.  

“About us.”

You spun around to run down the stairs without another word. He shouted after you but you ran away. From him. From yourself. From everything.  

---

The remaining days of the week saw you cooped up in your dorm room. Hiding from everyone. Hiding from yourself. Hiding from everything.  

It was eerily silent, even though on hindsight, there must have been various distantly annoying noises – knocking of the door, voices calling out to you or the ringing of your phone. Even if there were, you probably couldn’t hear it. Even if you had shed tears, you probably wouldn’t remember. The only capacity you had in those few days was overly occupied, by the past, and by your guilt for ever wanting to have anybody on your side.  

It is natural to think that your are always on the right side. It is natural to want people to take your side. It is natural to think that someone you like cannot be on the wrong side. But natural does not mean it is right.  

Yes, you have always wanted someone to choose your side. But no, if you are wrong then you don’t deserve anyone on your side. People who make mistakes do not deserve anyone on their side.  

Finally on one of the nights, the loud banging and shouting noises outside your door reached a decibel that was able to travel to your ears.  

Your unfocused eyes gazed toward the door, seeing it shake a little from whatever was banging on it. You strained your ears to try to hear what was going on, but all your senses were still a bit dulled. 

“Y/N! Y/N!”, a low male voice constantly booming through.  

“You can’t just come into the girls’ dorm like that! Do you hear me?”, a girl’s voice shrilly cuts through the sound barrier.  

“Y/N! Are you inside? If you are inside, will you just reply me?”, you finally recognises that it is Taehyung’s voice.  

You dragged your soulless body out of the bed and lugged it towards the door, not entirely in the state to bother about the whole fiasco happening outside.  

“Stop it now and get out, otherwise I have to call the security!”, the female counterpart threatened.  

“Y/N!”, he was still banging on the door constantly and right as he is about to land his fist on it again, you pull the door open, his fist almost landing on your face.  

---

“Are you okay? You are scaring me so much... Why do you look like this? Let’s go see a doctor...”, he rattles off, both of you now standing on the ground level outside the entrance to the dorm. But for the freezing wind blowing past you feeling slightly colder than your own body, you might have thought you were still asleep. 

“You must know why, has it not spread across the entire school yet? Why did you come looking for me?”

“I’m worried... you didn’t come to class and I asked around and nobody seems to have seen you for days. And all I thought about is what if something happened to you?”, his deep voice resonated with worry. 

“Does it matter? I did those bad things and you still care if something bad happens to me?”, you spat.  

“I don’t see how you would have done such a thing...”

Here we go again.  

“Kim Taehyung, stop it, you know nothing. How can you say that? Do you know how Jihyun would feel if she heard what you just said?”, you weakly glared at him through your fatigue.  

“If you really did it, why will you be here looking like you are on the verge of dying?”  

A scoff escapes your lips. “Are you going to just take my side now too? I have always wanted you to... only... not this time. Just go away, leave me alone. For all you know, it could all be true... what they say about me...”, your words stumbling.   

“I want to hear it from you. Is it true?”, he asks, the words echoing within his chest.  

“What if it is? Can you still stand on my side, even if it is wrong?”, you challenged. 

“I don’t want to stand on your side, Y/N, I want to stand by your side. I’m not here trying to pick the side that is wrong or right. Everyone makes mistakes. I just... don’t want you to be alone.

     If you really did those things... I guess then we will need to right the wrong, so let’s do it together. And... and if it can’t be fixed, then let’s suffer the consequences together. If you have to apologise, I'll apologise with you. If the world throws stones at you, I’ll get hit together.”  

He takes one step closer to you but you back away with three. So he stops where he is.

He watches as you struggle to come to terms with what exactly you wanted from anyone now. You didn’t feel like you were deserving of any support but if you really ended up with none... how long more can you survive?  

From amidst the concentration that he expended to observe you, Taehyung catches some ruffling noises coming from the second floor. He glances up towards the empty corridor and sees someone peeping out from behind the railings, the figure disappearing instantly. The next thing he knew, a pail is being tipped over right above you.  

“Y/N!”, he bellows. With two big strides, he dashes toward you, enveloping you into his slightly larger form.  

You heard a loud thud, the pail dropping onto the ground next to both of you. The icy cold water splashes onto your pants, biting slowly into your legs.  

Taehyung looks up sharply, attempting to catch a glimpse of whoever it was and yelling for someone to catch the rascal. Water was dripping down his completely drenched hair and coat onto your face.  

“Are you okay?”, he asks and you wonder what luxury he had to be worrying about you.  

“You are the one that’s all drenched! Did the pail hit you?” The days of reclusion have led to a very much delayed reaction from you but when you finally grasped the situation, you were horrified to see Taehyung’s current state.  

“I’m ok, it didn’t hit me anywhere”, he was still busy trying to wipe off all the water that had fallen onto your hair and face.  

In your head you heard your own voice saying:  

I have made mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. People who make mistakes don’t deserve anyone to stand with them. We must all be lonely people.  

And then you hear his mellow voice say to you:  

No. Everyone makes mistakes. And the world is allowed to punish us. But whatever the world throws at you... let's get drenched in it together. I pick your side, not because it is right, not because my love for you makes it right... but because I don’t want to let you face your mistakes alone.  

---

The sun was shining again in the morning. At the bottom of the staircase landing, you notice the not very large metal letterbox that was marked with your room number was stuffed to the brim. You took out your keys and unlocked it, sweeping all the mail and spam into your arms.  

As you sorted through them to see if anything required urgent attention, a piece of paper slips from somewhere within the pile and floats to the ground. You bent down to pick it up, flipping it over, and scribbled in the scrawly handwriting were the following words:  

“Please don't say anything Reach my hand out to cover the mouth But in the end, spring will come someday The ice will melt and flow away”

#series: pick a side #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fan fiction #bts fanfic #bts fan fiction #bts #taehyung #bts v #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #taehyung angst #bts angst #bts romance #taehyung romance #bts drama #taehyung drama #v fanfic #v fan fiction #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #bts fan fic #taehyung fan fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fan fiction #kpop fan fic #bangtan #bangtan boys

[violencebred]

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR DEATH, MURDER AND VIOLENCE MENTIONS

    ❛ can you tell us when the curse first manifested ?❜

                 NIGHT ONE.  ALBANY, NY. CA 24:15. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: THREE. 

like the lore on which children are weaned, ella would like to share an account coated with inveiglement. a tale about the heavens cracking open, unleashing a thunderstorm like no other. and then, she’d say, the sky wept. it rained for days and days; alleyways flooded, and the sky remained overcast, as if still scarred, a week after. if it were up to her to paint it, she’d embed it with a weight akin to that of prophets retelling a fraction of the book of revelations. 

but in reality, the delivery of her curse was nowhere near as glamorous. like most cursed, a long-winded, ponderous contract was a luxury not offered to her. the dealing was quick, done with as quickly as one’s click of the fingers. an unprofaned existence quickly turned blighted. 

it rained that night, though it was one of those unenergetic, wavering rains that do little besides ever so annoy the careless new yorker. had she made up her mind, begged to be granted some alternative penance and returned home an ashamed, failed runaway, she wouldn’t have noticed a difference. 

she’d reached albany at 04:00. by 04:35, news12 had already broadcasted the gruesome note. a commercial-looking news anchor stood outside one of her family’s houses. the building in the chelsea neighborhood stood there, housing but darkness inside. the home always looked different at night, but now, with the lights all off causing the walls to look uncharacteristically dull, it was a sight sure to send shivers down her spine. the barricade tape made it worse. 

much like the order of their births, bellissa was first, then carina, and then gian. bellisa had just been admitted to medical school. she remembered everyone’s names and birthdates. corny jokes with lame punchlines made her laugh the hardest. carina looked like her mother the most out of them. though she was too modest to admit it, she was a child prodigy. their aunts never missed a chance to say she had the ‘makings of greatness in her’. she crafted beautiful things, like paintings and musical compositions, to give to others as birthday presents. gian was always quiet, never really liking to be called the ‘baby’ of the family. everyone still dotted on him still. during spring, he’d fill the house with wildflowers collected from the backyard. ella refused to look at the coroner’s report, which was leaked and remained accessible for the more meddlesome media outlets to peruse. then any trace of it vanished overnight, likely a doing of her father’s hand. if she ever slept, she’d dream of the three of them, drifting toward a sea of darkness and numbness and nothing. it’s a more reassuring imagery than all the other scenarios, all the images of them shrieking and turning around in the ground.

❛ as far as our reports state, the effects are not restricted to blood relatives - can you confirm this ?❜

                  NIGHT TWO.  BOSTON, MA. CA 23:02. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: TWO.

ella remembers the first hostel the least. it’s always cold, despite how crowded it is, and lonely. she says a mere ten words throughout her first three months there. the couple in the mattress next to hers leaves one morning, and from sacramento comes another one.

           is ella short for anything?

                               short for isabella. 

           sweet. i’m jill. this is red.

                             red? is that your real name?

               it is now. 

and so it is. they’re young californians who’d come to new york pursuing a more bohemian lifestyle than california had had to offer. they’d landed themselves at different temporary homes after getting evicted from their flat, and now they’re stuck in the big apple. they’re generous, welcoming her as if they were lifelong friends. they don’t ask about her family, and she’s thankful. they teach her how to tie-dye and cut her own hair, then they let out a collective laugh when the first cut ends up looking dreadful. 

but the fourth month rolls around. one morning, she catches a glimpse of a familiar face in her periphery. a glance at the somber-looking suited man is enough to spark the familiarity. she feels a breath down her neck as she packs, writes a note addressed to jill and red promising to write and ending with an apology. 

their demises don’t create large ripples, but are instead restricted only to their two obituaries at the back of a local newspaper. it’s not until afterward that their deaths come into view as parts of the larger puzzle. 

                 NIGHT THREE. CONCORD, MA. CA 14:26. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: ONE.

ella wasn’t expecting much when she knocked on a random door upon her arrival. she’d ditched all the cards and other means that could serve as trackers, but had now almost burned through the cash. concord was nice, and it felt like an escape from the bigger cities. it was quiet, though that wasn’t inherently good. a middle-aged woman answers the door, furrowing at ella like the strange visitor she is. as she rambles, beads of sweat scattered over her forehead and eyes aiming not to cry even a little bit, she feels like a horrible burden. she was always taught not to ask for favors she couldn’t repay, and yet there she stands. 

but the woman nods, her laughter lines deepening as she steps aside to let the brunette in. as ella explains she will get herself a job at the local gas station and offers to carry out chores and other labor in exchange for a place to stay, the scent of cinnamon floods the new england home. there’s a perfect-looking pastry handed to her, then a handshake. 

mrs. herrera reminds her of her mother. maybe the two would’ve been great friends. though ella can tell she feels as lonely as herself. still, she is kind - surprising, to say the least, in the face of such odd circumstances. 

but her stay is short-lived, this time prompted by a quick phone call. it is not menacing, just straightforward and hurried. her father even chimes in from the back, though it’s one of his colleagues who directs the call for the most part. she pleads for them to stop, for them to leave her alone for good - the call ends the way they wanted it to. ‘we’ll send someone to get you in the morning’, and then it’s hung up.

the tears in her eyes prevent her from seeing the names written on the billboards through the window of the bus. the ghost of a motherly hug still lingers, the prospect of the quaint life that could’ve been hers loading every sob with bitterness. 

when miranda herrera’s gruesome death is attributed to a manic episode caused by early onset dementia, things click right as they begin falling apart. the puzzling case of the two deceased hitchhikers seems to come up in connection to miranda’s case. a cover-up emerges, referencing the opioid crisis and the devastating effects it allegedly had on the three decedents. 

but those who know which signs to look out for know better. the cases are deliberately closed and left to gather dust, a bypass of the law enforcement’s own confusion and inability to close them with a coherent narrative. though rumors filter and spread, the eerie details of the couple and the woman who figuratively tore themselves apart earning them the same character as campfire stories. rarely are they told as cautionary tales, and even more rare is it for the consistent red thread binding them and the three previous fatalities together. 

❛ do you have any way of knowing when the accidents are going to happen ?❜

                NIGHT ONE AT THE DATABASE. LOCATION UNKNOWN. TIME UNKNOWN. NUMBER OF CASUALTIES: ZERO.

is that what they’re calling them - accidents? she lets out a dry laugh. the way her head shakes in response is as insolent as she’ll allow herself to be. there’s still a nagging voice in her ear telling her not to dare misbehave or else… but she is angry, or so she thinks as her temples throb. she feels heavy with the weight of so much pointless, unnecessary death. at night, the dead come to her in her dreams. they open their mouth to say something, but all that comes out are blood curdling screams. it’s then that she’ll wake up, her own throat hoarse and thus disclosing that it’d been her own screams that had seeped into her subconscious. 

she finally blurts out the answer they want. no, i don’t. 

❛ did you ever try reconnecting with people you’ve previously met, maybe thinking that it’d- ?❜

ella doesn’t care for the rest of the question. she never had the chance. it all happened overnight, mere hours after she’d departed from a place and headed to another. gods have little use for indecisiveness, for vacillating. the most time she’d get was one night, but none of the people whom she’d left behind had not made it for that long. 

               NIGHT TEN AT THE DATABASE. NO CHANGE.

she thinks about it for a while, namely when the silence in her room becomes too overwhelming. while there are others around her being probed and observed, those assigned to her case might have little use for tests. it doesn’t grant her any peace of mind, but it provides the foundations of an answer nonetheless.

there is a nightmare that comes back to haunt her along with the old ones. it’s cold, and the air smells of gunpowder and chemicals. she hasn’t been in this place in an eternity, though not by choice. charred and destroyed into smithereens, she knows this place to be the ghost of the database. in the dream, she looks for a familiar face - someone like thad, or january. but then her heart will turn heavy and full of grief, and in this same dream she will know they are gone, extinguished by her own selfish hand. 

when she wakes up, the bright white lights threaten to burn her retina. the lack of answers and repetitive outline of the place do everything but lift her spirits. but despite all of this, there is some assurance in the decision she has made. 

even if it demanded for the database walls to be tore down over her, ella’s curse would end in this place. if her own curse couldn’t be removed, then she’d stay there, watching all the others be pardoned and rid of their curses even if her own weathered her down to the bone. she’d wave thirteen goodbyes and force herself to nurture some sense of peace and belonging here, making the database grounds her home to ensure she wouldn’t have to go anywhere else ever again. she’d turn herself into the one left behind this time around, even if she died the desolate and miserable way the gods intended her to.

she would like to tell this epiphany the same way people speak of the works of prophets. she hadn’t been born the kind of person people wrote stories about, so if she had the chance to, ella would like to at least go out with a final good one. but just as with the beginning, the end was not deserving of any sugar-coating, of any misleading descriptions. it was straightforward and simple, as if intending to make up for the painstaking and sufferable net she had woven. no skies cracking open, no long-winded lore. just an end.

#( this makes no sense !! #sorry it's a mess & i'm delirious ) #cursetask001

[thisunfoldinglife]

How I Came To Live in the Woods

Two years ago, my husband and I bought our dream house. This lovely seventies fixer-upper has robbed us of every last pound, consumed months of our time, and has signed us up for another decade of sweaty evenings and weekends spent painting, repairing, and renovating. We sometimes stop, paintbrush in hand, and ask each other, “any regrets?” Well…no—but we both pine for simpler times.  

I look around and marvel at this big house and everything we’ve accumulated since our move to England. We arrived eight years ago with only a few suitcases and a handful of hopes. Unlike normal people, we didn’t ship our furniture and household goods from America. Instead, we had a massive yard sale and sold the rest on Craig’s List. I said goodbye to my sewing machine, guitar, bike, and camping equipment. We had to rebuy everything from brooms to blankets, dishes to clocks, silverware to shoes. It’s amazing how long it takes to rebuild your collection of stuff, especially when money is scarce.

Yet all this didn’t faze me. I was already well versed in the art of minimalism. When I was twenty-eight, all my worldly possessions resided inside the boot of my car. They would remain there for two years, while I tried out life as a vagabond.  When you’re young, the promise of adventure can outweigh all fear. When it’s just you—no partner, no kids—just you and the great big sky, there are more chances you can take.

It all started after reading Brazilian writer Paulo Coelho’s book, “The Pilgrimage”, which sparked my desire to embark on a solo journey to Northern Spain to walk a 500-mile pilgrimage route that’s existed since the Middle Ages. Looking back, my decision to walk this ancient path set into motion a new trajectory for my life that wouldn’t be altered for several years. Walking the path for forty days, with nothing in my backpack but my journal, clothes, food, and water, certainly perfected my predilection for a minimal existence, but it was truly the time before and after the pilgrimage, that tested my resolve to embrace the unconventional life.  

I was desperate to get to Spain. I had travelled the length and breadth of The States, but outside of a quick hop to London, I hadn’t properly travelled overseas. I didn’t have any form of savings to purchase a plane ticket or even feed myself for the two months I’d be gone, yet still, I couldn’t ignore the pull to go. I had a sharp distaste for fear and regret, and a stronger desire to be the bold protagonist in my own life story, so I needed to find a way.

I was living at the time in Flagstaff, Arizona. This high-desert mountain town boasts turquoise blue skies and perpetual sunshine to beckon everyone outdoors. At 7,000 feet above sea level, it’s cooler than its neighbouring desert towns, and yields deep winter snows that will never meet the cacti of the south. Flagstaff’s natural beauty draws an alternative collection of hikers, skiers, hippies, and transients. The cost of living is high, but the desire to be there great, and so many people find whatever means they can to stay. I had heard about a few odd souls who camped in the surrounding national forest for weeks at a time. I would be one of them. It was the most feasible means of funding my travels. I was renting an apartment then, with a kindred friend, Marike. Partial to avoiding conformity, she too, knew the value in travel and adventure, and so she wasn’t hard to convince. Together, we gave up our apartment to head for the woods. I quickly sold my furniture, giving away everything that wouldn’t fit inside my small Toyota. All I had left were my books, photos, clothing and gear.

Marike and I set up our first camp in a clearing of aspens and pines a mile down a long dirt lane. It was close enough to make the morning trek to work, yet far enough from the main road to ease our minds about cops or potential serial killers. My tent was narrow and thin, but sufficient. We’d forage for firewood, heat cans of soup on the stove at night and pour water for each other to wash up in the morning. Every other day, we’d pay to shower at the local hostel. Being April, the snow still fell, and so the coldest nights would find us curled up in the car beneath heaps of blankets, where sleep was fickle and fragmented. It was challenging, uncomfortable, and at times scary, but also exhilarating. The difficulties were dotted with starry skies, deep conversations, and the perpetual fresh mountain air that magically invigorated us despite it all. I felt raw and alive, my eyes open and senses heightened. My inner strength was blossoming, and my fears grew smaller, giving way to a confidence that began to permeate all aspects of my life.

Soon after, I left for Spain. Walking the pilgrimage was an epic alter reality that inspired and stimulated me daily. The path had brought many wonders and gifts—among them, a thirst for freedom, both internal and external. I felt tethered to nothing and life’s possibilities seemed boundless. The journey had liberated me from nearly all my money and material possessions, so when I returned to Flagstaff, I wasn’t ready to buy furniture, pay rent, and adopt a normal life. So, I returned to the woods. Marike had left for other adventures, and I was on my own, uncertain of how long I’d be there.

I was a vulnerable single woman alone in the forest, but through either ignorance or grace, I felt protected. I enjoyed the town and the trails by day and spent time with friends in the evening. I’d often find my way to the local bookstore before bed. Their late hours gave me a pseudo living room to read and write before driving back to the forest. On my way to the woods, I’d roll down the window to inhale the sweet smell of wood smoke escaping from well-lit houses, where people sprawled happily on couches, glasses of wine in hand. The line between liberating and lonely began to blur as winter closed in, but still, I was in a pleasant state of surrender. I believed life would shepherd me to extraordinary things, and magically it did.

At a random party, in a place I had never been, I met a married couple, Vickie and Bruce, who were soon to sail around the coast of Mexico for three months. I foolishly disregarded them as a wealthy privileged pair whom I’d have nothing in common with. Yet as our conversation grew, I quickly realised that they were making sacrifices to pursue their dreams, the same as I. And, when they asked me to look after their pets and home while they were away, I was humbled with euphoric gratitude. It was a blessed encounter that, not only granted me a home during the cold winter months but brought me a lasting friendship. For this couple, who were once two strangers, became dear friends. And their home became a haven of warmth and stability, to write, relax, and even grieve when my father unexpectedly died months after. And, two years later, when I met my husband, Vickie presided over our wedding.

Vickie and Bruce went on several long jaunts to Mexico, in which I was always happy to look after their home and pets. And in between, I found several other house-sitting jobs. I stayed in homes with hot tubs and hammocks, along rivers and among mountains. The most remote dwellings were quiet and wild, and I’d spy elk, coyote, and bear. Some were affluent, and afforded me weeks of luxury, soaking in big baths, lounging on plush furniture and dining in stylish kitchens. Others were more rustic. One January, I looked after a cat in a converted camper van on the edge of town. Without any electricity or water, the camper had only a small built-in wood burner to shield me from the worst of the winter cold. In three feet of snow, I’d chop logs into kindling and fall asleep to a roaring fire that demanded to be rebuilt several hours later, yanking me from sleep to action.

When one job finished, another would harmoniously begin. I only occasionally camped in the woods in the interims. Everything seemed to fall into place to facilitate this unconventional existence. It gave me courage, trust, confidence, and the precious gift of time. In escaping from the rat race, I bought myself time—to simply be—a luxury I have so little of now. It’s hard to believe I lived like that for two years. But in my wandering spell, I’d somehow cultivated true peace within myself. And even now, in life’s most constricting moments, my soul still wanders free because of it.  

My vagabond days eventually proved their limitations, and I began to crave a place of my own. With great resistance, I exchanged my car—which brought me such freedom—for an apartment, where I acquired a rescue cat, a collection of mismatched furniture, and soon after, my husband.

I look around now at all this stuff—sofas and beds, tables and toys. I never thought I’d accumulate so much. Yet instead of weighing me down, it pleasantly anchors me. I think children need rooms and toys to call their own. As do I. And from the comfort of my couch, I now enjoy the smell of wine and wood-smoke from my own chimney. Someday I might don my backpack again and set off on another pilgrimage. Maybe I’ll even find a quiet spot in the forest to dwell for a while. But first, this house needs work and love, and as it’s filled to the brim, there is no more room for regret.

#minimalism #meaningoflife #introspectivewriting #whatarewedoinghere #~~ #vagabondlife #rustic living

[fromwinnipeg2everywhere]

Worth Every Penny

From Amsterdam, we took the train to Hamburg for a quick overnight stop before continuing to Copenhagen. The DB train ride to Hamburg took longer than the scheduled 6 hours, and even though we left Amsterdam early, it was late in the afternoon before we were able to check in to our motel across the street from Hamburg HBF. We covered a lot of ground in the few daylight hours we had in Hamburg. We walked along the pier and had a Fischbrotchen (Fish Sandwich) at Brucke 10, we saw St. Michael’s Church, Elbphilharmonie and Speicherstadt, but the highlight was just sitting and resting on the patio at Hofbrauhaus sipping Dunkel, soaking in the sun and people-watching. Someday, when we can all travel again, we will go back to Hamburg and see the rest of the places that we missed.

The train ride from Hamburg to Copenhagen was quite the adventure. When I first planned the trip, there was a direct train from Hamburg to Copenhagen, which involved the train going into a ferry to cross from Germany to Denmark. I was very excited because I have never been on a train that goes inside a ferry before! I always plan about six to nine months ahead and book all the flights and hotels around that time, and then buy the train tickets as they are released, typically 60-90 days ahead. Well, imagine my surprise when I couldn’t find that route anymore when it was time to book. It turns out that route was under maintenance then and my options were either to fly or take the non-direct route with three changes, with transfer times of four, six and eight minutes respectively to catch the next train. Well, not only am I sucker for stress, but I also have 100% complete faith in the German rail system, so at 430am, we were at Hamburg HBF, we stocked up on hamburgers at McDonald’s (it was the only thing open), and went to our platform to await our first train.

Well guess what, our first train, the one with the shortest transfer time to the next one, was one minute late. I know one minute is not a big deal, but when your layover is only four minutes, it is a big hairy deal. Luckily, we didn’t have to change platforms for the next train and all we had to do is basically jump off the one train and go into the next one across the platform. How did I know this? By researching all the station layouts prior to our trip to make sure we don’t waste precious minutes getting lost in the train stations. I also had contingency plans for which train we will take if we happen to miss one, but thankfully, everything went according to plan, and we were in Copenhagen by 1030am.

Copenhagen is beautiful but very expensive! We stayed at a hostel because it was the cheapest accommodation I could find, and I was not impressed with the experience. We paid pretty much the same price we would pay for a “nicer” hotel for a private room with bathroom and “a view” at Steel House Copenhagen. On top of everything we paid, they still charged us for storing our luggage, they only gave us one towel each in the bathroom (no towellete or floor mat) and if we wanted an extra one, we would have to pay. The room was one of the smallest rooms we’ve ever had, the air conditioning didn’t work, the balcony was not clean and covered with dead plants and bugs (so much for the view!), and the elevators did not work pretty much our entire stay. It was one of the worst ever in terms of customer service.

We explored Copenhagen mostly on foot, the sites are a bit far from one another but it’s doable with comfortable shoes. We walked down Stroget, visited Rosenburg Castle, took a canal tour, and strolled down Nyhavn. The canal tour is a good activity on the first day because it gives a pretty comprehensive tour of the city and gives an idea on which places to visit for the following days. I found Nyhavn very much like a postcard, but the restaurants are very pricey and not the best the city has to offer. There’s a McDonald’s a few blocks down so we ate there instead. Tivoli Gardens was a pleasant surprise, and a good way to spend an afternoon. We bought tickets for a couple of tame rides, but there are a couple of scary ones there that you could not pay me to try.

The part that I loved the most about Copenhagen was the food, and I’m not talking about McDonald’s! On our first day there, we went to Torvehallerne which is a food market that has a lot of scrumptious food, this is where we spent our three-day budget. We bought an open face sandwich, I bought a piece of bread, a dessert, and we shared a beer. It does not really take much to blow through a budget in Copenhagen. I miscalculated the conversion in my head the first morning we were there and didn’t realize that a Frappuccino cost $10! I really did not enjoy that Frap. On the second day, we had lunch at NOMA. The food at NOMA was, hands down, the best I’ve tasted in my entire life. We were there for seafood season and it was course after course of amazing seafood – crabs, mussels, oysters, scallops, sea urchin – all beautifully plated and cooked to perfection. I would come back to Copenhagen just to experience seafood season again. It is hard to get a booking at NOMA. You must book the second they open bookings for whatever season you want. So, for example, we booked in January for our May trip. When I say book the second they open, I literally mean the second they open because those slots will be gone in a snap. You pay for the food at the time you make the booking, and then you pay for beverages after the meal. It is a splurge, but it is one of the memories that I will look back fondly on forever. On our last night in Copenhagen (and the last night of our trip), we dined at Geranium. The food and the dining experience were exceptional. The kitchen and wine cellar tour were a nice touch, but it had very big shoes to fill from the previous day’s experience. This is another splurge, but if you only have enough budget for one splurge, I would go with NOMA.

While at Copenhagen, we also took a half-day trip to Malmo, Sweden. It is a nice, quiet town with not much going on. Make sure that you have your passport on you because the border patrol does random passport checks on the train. The train ride is not cheap, but we wanted to go to Sweden!

The whole trip was a very memorable one. We got to revisit cities that we love, and we fell in love with new ones. The whole gastronomic aspect of this trip was unbelievable, and I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the chance to dine in some of the world’s best restaurants. I would have to give credit where credit is due, and that is to my husband because he has taught me that I need to look at the value, and not the cost of something (or at least that is his excuse to splurge!). When this pandemic is over, I hope that the restaurant industry recovers, but for now, let’s try to support them by ordering takeout or delivery occasionally, or buying gift cards to use when they open again. Travelling and dining out are two of my favourite things in the world and I will enjoy every single moment once we can do so again.

#hamburg #copenhagen #denmark #malmo #sweden #germany #noma #geranium #tivoligardens #nyhavn #travel #wanderlust #europe #scandinavia

[chaletnz]

Back to the Nicaraguan mainland: San Juan del Sur

Around 5am I woke up to crashes of thunder and lightning which was a natural alarm to getting myself ready and my bag packed up for our journey back on the ferry and on the road to San Juan del Sur. We were all crammed into one van that drove us to a different ferry port than the one we had arrived at - a little annoyingly because I thought I might be able to get breakfast/coffee from The Cornerhouse if we were returning to Moyogalpa. We headed straight on to the ferry and found some seats on the top deck to watch Ometepe Island getting smaller and smaller in the distance as we drove back. Tyrza was standing at the front of the deck and some random people started talking to her. Emily immediately said that they looked American based on what the lady was wearing, I asked "but what state...?" and without hesitation the guy turned around so his back was to us and we could read what was written on the back of his jacket "NEVADA". We both chuckled. It got a little choppy halfway through the ride so I went inside hoping that I would feel better sitting somewhere more comfortable and out of the wind. I noticed that all the signs on the boat were in English and Dutch, presumably Nicaragua had bought an old Dutch passenger boat to turn into their ferry - that explains the lack of air conditioning! On the mainland we were again shoved into a cramped van with barely enough seats for the group plus Dennis our new guide. It seemed like since Wout and Boukje had left they cheaped out on the transport! It was a long ride in this van with barely any air conditioning and our driver blaring his shitty music trying to amp us up for partying in this seaside town but we were all tired from being up at the crack of dawn and feeling seasick/carsick so it was just irritating. We stopped at a small supermarket to buy some snacks and drinks, Deme got what looked like a terrible coffee down the street and then we drove the dirt road with huge holes filled with rainwater for about 5-10km into the forest to our accommodations for the next two nights - Selina Hostel. We had arrived at 10am. Too early to check in and without much else to do, we decided to just jump in the pool and spend the day there. It felt like a day wasted to me, I would've much rather gone into the town for a walk around the shops and a coffee but the transport to get there wouldn't have me back until after 2pm when Dennis said we need to be ready to check in and go to our rooms. But I was stuck in the middle of the forest so just did what I never do and chilled in the pool playing some waterpolo with the group. Tyrza and I had a very messy and expensive cheeseburger for lunch and then when 2pm came Dennis was nowhere to be seen. He returned just before 3pm having been hanging around town himself getting a haircut, this is his theme of just wandering off and leaving us on our own. Not like Walter who would give us recommendations and then offer to eat with us or show us some places around town. Keys were handed out and bags were collected from the storeroom in a hurry and I learned I'd be sharing a 4 bed dorm with Max and Charlie. We were all less than thrilled. I got things unpacked and sorted out for tomorrow and then went for another swim since we were basically now just waiting for dinner. I took a shower and then headed up to the bar on sunset for a couple happy hour drinks with the others before we all piled into the van and drove into town for our meal at Tuani's. I chose the grilled mahi-mahi and vegetables which was good but I was definitely ready to head back to go to bed. Our options were basically go back after dinner around 8pm. Go back at midnight after being taken to clubs suggested by our weird/creepy driver Joel, or get a taxi and pay for it yourself. Max had given himself a concussion in the pool earlier by swimming straight into the wall and his face looked a bloody mess, he and I went back to the hostel but when I went to bed he found the Israelis again to play some pool. I never heard either of them come back later so they must've been extra quiet for once!

#Nicaragua #San Juan del Sur

[miairviin]

Ciao

Ciao! Viva Italia! And more importantly, Spaghetti and Gelato! I am currently writing this entry while in the beautiful city of Rome, Italy. This marks the first trip outside of Greece and it could not have worked out any more perfect. After a quick afternoon flight we arrived at our hostel at around 8pm. The immediate vibe was summer camp, probably because of the tight quarters and the bunk beds that lined our wall. That being said, we are very fortunate to have a private room that the six of us who came to Rome are sharing for the next few nights. We were absolutely famished so we took to the streets to try and find some dinner. Google maps coupled with Yelp has thus far definitely been a key player in our food related adventures. But that particular night we were let down by the pair multiples times. Finally, we stumbled on a restaurant called Il Tunnel. We were driven into the quaint restaurant in part by frustration, but mainly by hunger. That being said, I could not have asked for a better first meal. I was able to go halfsies with Madeline and we had Penne allá Vodka and a Marinara pizza. Words cannot express how good that food tasted. Sure we were hungry so hot garbage probably would have tasted good. But that vodka sauce....the VODKA sauce! If it was socially acceptable, I would have slurped that sauce right off the plate with a straw. And the pizza with its crispness and the tomatoes, the garlic, the cheese. I did not deserve that pizza. Once we were stuffed, we took a quick trip to Google translate where we learned “Il conto por favore” so we could get our check.

Once we left, we were faced with another instance of technology letting us down when we needed it most: on our quest for gelato. It seemed we attempted to find every single gelataria in Rome that night. I was so stuffed from dinner, gelato was not something I was jonesing for but after every failed attempt to locate a gelataria, the craving only seemed to grow. By the time we just so happed to turn down a random street and saw the glorious glow of a front window lined with bins of gelato, my heart was soaring. Madeline and I again went halfsies and split a mystery flavor the gelato man picked for us. If I had to take a guess, it was dark chocolate. Truth be told, I didn’t care what it was. It was downright dangerous how decadent it was. But the taste of triumph was so much sweeter.

The next morning we were up by 7 and within the hour, we were standing before the Coliseum. It was so huge, so awe inspiring. Through all of the wars and all the leaders and all the triumphs the city has faced, this site has managed to stay standing. It was hard to balance the idea of the Coliseum and it’s architectural accomplishments and overall glory with the fact that people died very gruesome deaths there and those deaths were celebrated as sport.

Next, we spent a few hours wandering through the Roman Forum and Paletine Hill. The sites were beautiful and you could practically feel the hustle and bustle of ancient Rome as you meandered through the paths once used as a market. Fragments of life there still remained in the form of statues, sculptures, and religious artifacts.

We refueled at a small bistro where I had my first Italian coffee of the trip. Sorry Greece, this one has to go to Italy. The richness, the bitterness, the sweet edge from the chocolate drizzled over top. There really is no competition.

From there, we ventured to the Trevi Fountain and the Pantheon. Both were so ornate, so beautiful, so breathtaking. I was truly not prepared to feel so small when standing and looking up through the hole of the ceiling of the Pantheon. Or how full of joy I would feel as I threw coins over my shoulder in the hopes I would one day return to this city.

But the highlight of my trip was Via de Leutari 29. As a young woman, my Mamamá lived in Rome for three years and with the help from my cousin who studied in Rome while he was in college, I was able to track down her old apartment at Via de Leuarti 29. It was less than five minutes from the Pantheon and a stones throw away from Piazza Navona where we had dinner that night. I did not to expect to get emotional, but it was a surreal moment for me. The entire time I was in Rome, she was on my mind. Had she walked down this street? Was this shop there when she lived here? Did she drink coffee at that cafe? Standing in the alley she walked through every day made me feel so much closer to her. I even made sure I brought along a scarf she knit so in a way, she finally made it back to Rome too.

The next day we got up even earlier, dragging ourselves to the station to catch the first metro at 5:30 in the morning to catch our 6:02am train. I say 6:02 precisely because those 120 seconds were quite valuable to us, as we were literally taking our seats as the train pulled away. It was a close call, but we were on the train and bound for Florence, Italy. My beautiful friends had constructed an amazing and efficient itinerary for these days, so once we got off of the train, we headed straight to see David. The entire museum was filled with religious and historical art that bent my mind with its detail and color and precision and accuracy. My mind is still filled with all of the different paintings and the sculptures I passed by. But David did indeed steal the show. He stood so much taller than I had anticipated and the early morning light showered him in a soft glow. An image that will stay with me for a very long time.

After David, we set off to find the Duomo. After Delphi and Rome, I had grown accustomed to being shocked. But nothing could have prepared me for the Duomo. The cathedral so ginormous I could not fit it into a picture. There was painstaking detail all over, from the statues that lined the roof and corners to the intricate exterior. We agreed to return later to go inside and see what it was all about.

Madeline, Tiana, and I wandered around the city stopping to admire the architecture and the views and flipping coins to decide what street to turn down. These are the days I cherish. The days where we have nothing to do but be and enjoy. And be and enjoy I did. Florence was beautiful with its random spurts of greenery and the green shutters of orange apartment buildings or blue shutters on coral buildings or red shutters on yellow buildings. It was eclectic, looking almost as if someone mixed and matched every color imaginable to construct the skyline and alleyways. We joined up with the rest of our group later that day where we found an absolutely gorgeous lookout spot for the sunset. We saw the entire city. The tops of churches, the tops of apartment buildings, and the tops of business all sitting on top of the river below. Another view I will not soon forget.

Then we returned for Duomo. This took a little bit of smarts because there was a mass going on and we had seen the security out front turn away eager tourists. But we were getting inside that building. Being the good Catholic girl I am, I just politely walked up and pointed inside and asked “Mass?” The guard beamed brightly and beckoned me inside. I genuflected and took a seat near the back with my friends and other people who had the same idea as us. Parishioners had already filled in the first third of the pews. The mass was completely in Italian but I was shocked that I was able to pick up on where they were in the mass based on the cues I have grown up with my whole life. The dome inside was a beautifully painted portrayal of biblical images and of course the cathedral was decorated with ornate sculptures and rich paintings. It was another unexpected emotional moment for me as I looked up at the dome full of images I have been looking at my whole life. Now, I was looking at them in the Duomo in Florence, Italy. About as unreal as it can get.

Dinner was right outside of the cathedral and after eating, we made our way to the train station. According to my pedometer, I had taken 29,611 steps and walked 12.4 miles. In other words, I am exhausted but in the best way possible. Tomorrow is our last day in Italy and for that we venture back to Rome, and again, thanks to my beautiful friends (especially you, Allie!) we have a packed itinerary with a day that promises more steps and more sites.

[ours-is-feral-love]

Summary: Steve is surprised when Bucky returns from the Decimation desperate to find someone.

* * *

‘Love is not a choice’

* * *

The battlefield is slowly clearing and she is all he can think about. Since the fighting stopped, since Tony Stark sacrificed himself for them all, she has been the only thing on his mind. He sees her, clear as day, standing at the balcony window of his shitty apartment in Bucharest, wearing one of his sweaters because she didn't think to bring any warm clothes. Because she didn't think Romania got cold in the winter.

'It's Europe,' she said. 'Don't people come here for the clear skies and warm weather? To escape the frigid American temperatures?'

She was thinking about Greece. Southern Italy. The Caribbean islands. But a ticket to Bucharest was cheaper, and she wasn't in a position to pay extra for one of the fancy European getaway destinations. It made him nervous when she stood so close to the glass. To the grainy, translucent square that would shatter to a hundred million pieces with the slightest amount of pressure. A bullet would go right through, facing no resistance. Then it would go right through her.

'You're here,' she said, turning away from the window and coming towards him. All of those bloodied thoughts drained from his head. He sat on the mattress in the middle of the shitty, tiny room, wondering instead how things had managed to get this far with this random girl who was not just a random girl anymore. 'You'll keep me warm,' she said and she got to her knees in front of him, her glasses sliding down her nose, and she kissed him like he was a normal man.

That was the danger of her. She made him feel normal. She made him, for those seconds, minutes, hours that she was with him, forget himself. His struggles to recall the last seventy years of his life vanished when she was in the room. And the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to let those parts of him slip so far away he could never retrieve them.

'Something’s on your mind,' she said, pulling away. He reached up without thinking, the metal of his left arm clinking lightly against the frame of her glasses. She didn't even blink as he pushed them gently up her nose.

'Something’s always on my mind,' he said.

'Yeah, but this is something bigger,' she said.

'How can you possibly know that?' he asked as she climbed into his laps. Her legs went either side of his hips. Her heels joined at his spine. It was like she was trying to permanently entwine their bodies. Wrap herself up in him, like she couldn't get enough. It felt strange. Nobody had touched him like this in so long. Maybe no-one had ever touched him like this.

'Don't question me,' she said. Then she curled her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead to his and he thought for a second that he might suffocate—she wasn't giving him any room to breathe—but after that second the feeling passed and it was replaced by a sprouting warmth that unfurled in his groin and spread everywhere inside of him. His wrist, his fingertips, his toes, his lips all pulsed. 'So,' she said, 'what's on your mind.'

And he smiled. Actually smiled at her, his mouth going up either side, automatically stretching. It hurt—his mouth was so unused to the strain—but he didn't stop. 'You're relentless,' he said.

'I know. Now tell me,' she said grinding her head into his. She matched his smile.

'I just feel,' he said, gripping her waist, careful not to press too hard (he wasn’t yet used to having to be careful with the people he touched—his natural instinct was to break them, and he was trying so, so hard not to break her), 'like I’m being watched.'

'You are,' she said, and his eyes widened before she finished by saying, 'I’m watching you.' And she kissed him again. One of those all-consuming kisses that threatened to suck the soul out of his chest, and he pushed away his paranoia in favor of pushing his sweater off of her body.

From where he sits, Bucky watches T’Challa huddle with his family. Their gratitude and happiness and love is written all over their faces. He sees the annoying spider kid sitting by Tony Stark’s body, his arms wrapped around a blond woman’s shoulders. Together, they shake and sob, and Bucky feels their grief like grit in his teeth.

Did the purple thing take her as well? Bucky buries his face in his hands. God, he can’t think about that. But it’s all he can think about. Her body fading, turning to dust. Her life put on hold for, what? Five years? Is that what the magician man said?

Wherever she is, even if she didn’t get taken, is she looking for him? The last thing he told her—

“Old man, we did it.”

The bird. Bucky lifts his head. Sam stands in front of him against the backdrop of the murky, thick sky, a smug smile on his face.

There’s too much death in the air for that kind of smile.

“No, we didn’t,” he says, looking again at the kid. He’s small. He looks as small as Steve did before they injected him with the serum.

Sam turns his head, following Bucky’s gaze. “I guess you’re right. But we did some things. I definitely kicked some alien ass today.”

Bucky gets it. This is Sam’s way of dealing with things. Jokes and gallows humour. But he can’t hear it, not right now. Not when she’s so far away from him. Getting to his feet, Bucky wobbles slightly before walking past Sam and heading for where Steve stands a few paces from Tony Stark. His tears have cut through the grime on his cheeks. He wipes them away and clears his throat thickly when Bucky makes himself known.

“Buck, I”—

—“I need to find someone,” Bucky says, cutting Steve off.

Steve steps back and tilts his head in confusion. “What?” he says, frowning. “Who do you need to find?”

“A girl,” Bucky says, his heart pounding so hard and loud it drowns out the kid’s cries. “Darcy.”

He found her the first time cursing out a taxi driver on the pavement outside of a hostel, her hair and clothes and suitcase soaked from the cold rain that had just stopped. The old man was giving it right back to her in Romanian, although it seemed like neither understood what the other was shouting. It was just a jumble of swear words.

And he watched it all unfold. He had never seen such a short woman scream such angry, hate-filled words at an apparent stranger. It was mesmerizing. Until the older, much larger man placed his fat hands on her shoulders and shoved her backwards. She stumbled, her next round of insults knocked out of her as she hit the brick wall of the hostel. Her glasses almost slipped right off her nose.

Bucky was supposed to be keeping a low profile. HYDRA was looking for him. SHIELD was looking for him. He was a man on the run. But he couldn’t stop himself from going up to her. The taxi man jumped in his car before Bucky could cross the street. He ignored the squealing tires and instead focused on the girl, tilting the rim of his baseball cap down to cover his eyes. He asked if she was okay.

'I’m okay,' she said, but when she rubbed the back of her head blood smeared across her palm.

'Okay, maybe I’m not okay,' she said. She pushed her glasses with her bloodied palm. Red streaked up her nose. Taking a shaky breath and letting out with a shaky laugh, she went on, 'I didn't think I was okay, but I wasn't sure, and I wanted to seem completely unfazed by the scary dude who just decided to push me against a fucking wall for fun, but nope. I'm bleeding. And I'm pissed. And I'm sorry for talking so much. There's no way all of that needed to be said.'

She said all of that with blood running down her neck.

And he wished it had dawned on him then, right then, that he was following the white rabbit. That he was falling, falling, falling into a world he would never be able to escape. Maybe he would have turned the other way immediately. Or maybe he would have done nothing different. She had that strong of a pull. But he didn't know anything. All he wanted to do was help, and he didn't think twice when he tipped up his cap and revealed his face to her.

There was no gasp of realisation or recognition. Of either fear or fascination. She just looked up at him with her doe-like eyes, her stare sharp from the pain.

'Let me help,' he said, surprised by how easy it was for the words to get out. It shouldn't have been so easy. He was meant to be in self-preservation mode. 'My apartment is just down the road.'

'Your apartment?' she said. 'Are you going to murder me once we get there?'

Bucky went still. He wanted to say something to assure her he was most definitely not planning on murdering her, but he was struggling to push down unwelcome memories filled with cries for him to stop. For him to spare their life.

'It's fine,' she said, and her unbloodied fingers pressed against the fabric of his jacket, right at the centre of his chest. 'I don't actually think you're going to murder me.'

Flinching out of his past, Bucky said, 'So you'll come with me?'

She looked for a brief moment like she was going to refuse. She started shaking her head no. But the jerky movement made her whole body wobble and the silent no quickly turned into a verbal yes, and Bucky Barnes found himself guiding a stranger through the streets of Bucharest, his eyes scanning every corner and side street for suspicious faces, to his shitty apartment, careful to not let her see his left arm.

'This is where you live?' she said as soon as the door shut behind them. She sounded almost amused. 'It looks worse than the inside of the hostel. Worse than my first year dorm.'

He ignored her comments, pulling the sleeve of his jacket down over his left hand as he rummaged through the shelves by the front door for the first aid supplies. She sat on the lone sofa in the apartment, the one with mismatched cushions, when he told her to, and she only swore for a few seconds as he started cleaning her wound. It was like being back on the battlefields in Europe. What he could remember of them. Foul language and blood. But no pretty girls with big eyes and lips. That was different.

The gash was shallow and easy to fix, and it didn't occur to him until she stood and faced him and said 'Thank you, by the way my name is Darcy' that they hadn't exchanged names.

Then she looked at him expectantly. Without the blood on her face, she was pretty. And there was a glimmer in her eyes. A spark of something that told Bucky she always had a snarky comment waiting for its opportunity to burst forth.

'I don’t do names,' he told her. He turned away from the sofa and threw the bloodied cotton balls in the bin.

'You don’t do names,' she said. 'What does that mean?'

'It means I don’t do names. I don’t give out my name.' Why was he explaining this to her? He shouldn’t be explaining this to her. He should have just left her bleeding at the side of the road.

'Are you a criminal?' she said, and Bucky’s heart thudded hard. 'Are you a criminal on the run?'

Turning on the tap, he stared ahead at the cracked tile. He washed his hands, hoping she couldn’t hear the clinking of his left hand. He scrambled to think of something to say. 'What if I am?' was what he settled on. Switching off the water and mindfully drying his hands, Bucky turned, leaning his back against the sink.

Darcy’s head tilted a centimetre to the side. Her lips parted and her eyebrows moved ever so slightly together, like she was trying to decide if he was joking. 'Well, she said, you haven’t killed me yet. You’ve not even tried. So, either you’re biding your time, or you’re not as bad as all that.'

'As all what?'

'As all the other criminals on the run.'

'Do you know many?' he said, and it was the first thing he said that made Darcy Lewis smile, and he thinks that was when it was all over for him.

'I’ve known a couple. They were quick to go for the throat. But look at me,' she said, dragging her pointer finger across her neck, 'everything’s still intact.'

Steve paces the designated computer room of a random stranger. Everyone near the battle site is making use of whatever place they can that wasn’t touched by gunfire. This is the third day they have camped out in the room. The woman—Bucky keeps forgetting her name—who owns the house keeps saying they can use her desktop for as long as they need, but Bucky is hopeful he won’t need to take her up on the offer. And he never hopes. For anything. But he needs to find her. What is the point of surviving the purple man’s plan to wipe out half of humanity if she isn’t here?

Sitting at the computer desk, Bucky refreshes the state’s reunification website and scrolls the new page searching for her name. Two days ago he didn’t know what a mouse was. Steve had to teach him how to use it. And a computer. And then the bird had to jump in because apparently getting two men who survived the Second World War to try navigating a 21st century technological device never works out.

Thousands of new names are added to the list every minute. Bucky’s gut lurches every time he sees the letter D. There’s a constant pounding in his head. A tension headache that refuses to go away, like his skull is cracking under the pressure.

Steve still doesn’t understand. He keeps saying it. And Bucky understands, because Bucky is refusing to talk about it. About her.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Steve says now, his body moving like a blur around the room behind Bucky. Bucky continues scrolling. “Why didn't you say anything about her? What was she doing while you were in Wakanda? What was she even doing in Bucharest in the first place?”

He repeats these questions. Maybe in the hope Bucky will snap and explain. But he doesn't want to. He wants to protect her from this side of him. The Steve side. The warring side. Back when he first was getting to know her—stupidly getting to know her, letting her in, telling her things—he was set on never disclosing his true identity because of how badly he wanted to ensure her safety. And her knowing was a liability.

But she had a way of getting him to talk. Even when it was the last thing he wanted to do.

He knew it was her by the way she knocked on his door. Several hard, loud bangs in quick succession. He hadn’t necessarily been expecting her, but he wasn’t surprised by her sudden appearance.

'I know who you are,' she said as soon as he opened the door, and Bucky’s heart had never dropped to his stomach so quickly.

'What?'

She came inside and closed the door when it was clear Bucky no longer had use of his arms, flesh and otherwise. Turning around slowly, his breaths shallow and painful, he watched as she took off her red scarf. She set her things on the sofa and headed right for the basin. She always washed her hands when she first entered the apartment. He wasn’t sure why. He’d never asked. They knew nothing about each other really. Nothing important.

Darcy silently rinsed and dried her hands before facing him with a single eyebrow arched. Then the eyebrow fell and she slumped a little at the waist. 'Okay, fine, I don’t know who you are,' she said. 'But,' she said, pointing a finger at him, 'I recognise you. You’re someone.'

Still with his back to the door, Bucky considered running. Just taking off and leaving everything here and never returning, not even for the notebook. But that impulse faded as quickly as it overtook him, and he was left with a decision to make. Darcy Lewis stood a few paces in front of him waiting for him to speak. Her glasses were wet with melted snow. Her teeth captured her bottom lip.

His mouth filled with ash. Bucky tried swallowing, but his throat was not working. It was rebelling against him. And he didn’t know how he found himself in this situation. All he wanted to do was help the poor American girl with the bleeding skull. It was never supposed to turn into this. But it did, and he had done nothing so far to stop it.

He wanted to tell her. He needed to. Of course, it was so clear to him now.

'Bucky. Tell me who you are,' she said.

'It’s a long story.'

'I’ve got nowhere to be. Vacation, remember?'

'You might not like it.'

'Try me,' she said, her voice wavering.

And it was that easy. It shouldn't have been that easy. He told her. And he showed her—his arm, his scars, the notebook, the backpack buried underneath the floorboards.

Instead of fleeing or calling the police, she listened. She stayed. She tucked his too-long hair behind his ear and ran the pad of her finger down his jaw, the curves of her fingerprint catching on the stubble.

'Bucky Barnes,' she said, his name coming out like a long exhale. 'I like you Bucky Barnes.'

He didn’t know how, but he knew she meant it. And he didn’t know why, but he liked her too.

“Do you boys need anything?”

Bucky jerks away from the computer. The kind woman is in the doorway. She calls them boys as if they are not at least fifty years older than her.

Steve stops pacing. “No, thank you, ma’am. We’re doing alright.”

Steve is not alright. Steve has just lost Tony Stark and has not had the time to mourn. Steve has lost Natasha Romanoff and has not had the time to mourn. His team is splintered and cracked, and nothing can repair it this time.

And Bucky is not alright. Bucky is never alright. But especially not now when his bones feel like wet cornstarch. Not when he still has no idea if Darcy is alright.

“Okay,” she says, smiling warmly. “Just let me know if I can do anything. Good luck with your search.” She says the last thing staring directly at Bucky. Then she walks away, leaving the half-mechanical man to return to his draining task.

“Just tell me,” Steve says, coming up to the computer, “why she was in Romania.”

Bucky’s numb fingers move the mouse’s wheel. His eyes are so tired. So bleary. He can hardly make out any of the names on the screen. It’s like he’s staring at the monitor through a flurry of snow. “Something happened to her,” he says. He might as well give Steve something. “She was working in London with an astrophysicist when she saw something. It was bad enough that she needed to get out of there.

'Things don’t normally shake me,' she had said to him the night she explained her trip east. Their sweat-soaked bodies were still recovering and her words came out like heavy pants. 'But that did. Jane understood, but I’m sure she’s wondering why it’s taken me so long to come back.'

'Did you say you would?' he asked. He didn’t want her to leave him.

'Yes.' She turned onto her side and pressed her mouth against his chest. Her tongue gently swam through the moisture gathered on his skin. 'But I’m not going. Not now.'

He knew what she meant. She was staying for him. For them, really. His heart swelled. His belly fluttered. She had the strangest effect on him. With her, he was a teenager again. Experiencing everything for the first time. But then, he had never experienced anything like this. Not before HYDRA. Certainly not since.

Holding her to him, he found her mouth and kissed her, sucking the salt from her tongue.

Bucky is so busy remembering—good things this time, not the bad things—that he almost scrolls past her picture. He stops breathing. He stops scrolling. There she is, at the top of the computer screen. Name: Darcy Lewis. Location: Brooklyn, New York, United States of America. Status: Alive.

Alive.

He sounds the word out in his head slowly. A-L-I-V-E.

“I’ve found her,” he chokes out. God, he can’t breathe. Really and truly cannot get his lungs to work. “She’s okay. She’s in New York.” She’s close. Mere hours away from him. And she's alive.

He scans the number below her picture and shakily asks Steve for the nearest phone.

“New York?” Steve says, handing Bucky the computer room’s landline. “Why isn't she in Romania?”

“Because,” he says, his eyes stinging as he tries to punch in the phone number, “I told her to get back to America the day you found me.” He finishes putting the number in and double checks it’s correct before taking as deep a breath as he can manage. He presses the CALL button.

They were together that morning Steve came to him in Bucharest. They were both being lazy. He hadn’t been so relaxed since before the war. But soon Darcy would need to get to work. She had started helping an old woman she met shortly after arriving in Romania. Darcy still barely spoke any of the national language, and the woman spoke absolutely no English, but Darcy was never in a bad mood after she returned to Bucky’s apartment.

He missed her when she was gone. It had gotten that bad. When she was out, he forgot what he used to do with himself before she bled her way into his backwards, fucked up life. Search for the past. Push the past as far away as he could. Rinse, repeat.

'We need food,' she said that morning. Her hair was fanned over his chest. The strands kept drifting into Bucky’s mouth whenever he breathed in. 'You could go to the market downtown.'

'You’ll already be out.'

'I’ll be busy. Too busy to worry about grocery shopping. Besides, the vendors can never understand me. It’s better when you get the food.'

'They don’t understand you,' he said, scraping Darcy’s hair from the inside of his lip, 'because you don’t speak their language.'

'But I speak English!' she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air. She nearly whacked his face with her elbow. 'Doesn’t everyone speak English? Why don’t they speak English?'

'They probably do.'

'Then why don’t they speak English to me?'

'Because you are so very American,' he said as her arms came down. He clipped their hands together. Wove their fingers together. Just because he could.

'So, the system is rigged against me. Nothing that I do will make my life in Romania any easier?'

'Fine,' he said, bending his neck down and pecking her temple. She was already smiling. She already knew what he was going to say. 'I’ll get the damn food.'

'Thank you, Bucky.' She squeezed his hand. 'I think I saw plums yesterday. They looked yummy. Get me some of those plums, loverboy.'

'Plums,' he said, this time going for her mouth. 'Check.'

The phone rings. And rings and rings. Bucky’s tongue dries and swells inside of his mouth. The tips of his fingers, of his toes, go numb then start fizzing like he has a bad case of pins and needles.

Steve looms over him, his face contorted in concentration and a small amount of betrayal.

“What's happening?” he asks when Bucky, his hand shaking violently as if he has no control over it, removes the phone from his ear.

“She didn't pick up,” he croaks.

“What? Why?” Steve must be tired of asking these questions. Of not knowing. He runs a hand down his face and holds his jaw like he has to stop himself from screaming.

Bucky has to stop himself from screaming too.

“She never picks up when she doesn't recognise the number.”

If he's honest, he likes that part. Usually. But not now. Not when it is so important. The most important thing in the whole universe.

He swallows past his thick, sandy tongue tasting nothing but bile and dials again, the memory of that day in Bucharest climbing inside his head again.

He had not been on such high alert in months. Darcy had made him soft. Weak.

Why didn't he just leave her at the side of the road?

The image from the newspaper burned every time he closed his eyes. Had she seen it? Did she think it was him?

Searching the deserted backstreets, Bucky came across a battered payphone. Keeping his eyes trained on every unseeable corner, he walked up to it, tipping his head down and hiding his left hand. He pulled random change out of his pocket and shoved them into the coin slot. He didn't stop until there was almost nothing left.

He knew this was going to happen eventually. It had to. He couldn't just happily live out his life in Romania without consequence. The world wasn't going to forget the Winter Soldier.

He had a plan for this sort of thing. The backpack was there for a reason.

But Darcy.

Oh, God, Darcy. She was never supposed to happen.

Bucky pressed his cheek against the receiver. Then he banged it against his forehead. He couldn't change things now. She was in his life—buried inside of him. Nothing could sever their tie.

Digging the phone into his ear, Bucky punched in Darcy’s mobile number. He nervously chewed on his lip, a habit he picked up from her, as he waited.

'No, Darcy, pick up,' he said aloud through gritted teeth. 'Please, don't you see how important this is?'

Holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, Bucky hurriedly redialed the number.

'Hey, whoever this is, if you could just go ahead and fuck right'—

—'Darcy, stop talking.'

'Bucky,' she gasped. 'What’s happened?'

'It's not good,' he said. 'It's really not good. Are you near a TV?'

'Yes.'

Bucky steeled himself. 'Turn it on. Find a news channel. Any news channel. Have you got it?'

'Yeah, but Bucky, what the hell is this?'

He pulled away from the handset and bit hard into his lip. His throat ached. 'Darcy, it's not me. I don't know who it is, but it is not me. But,' he said, 'it's someone who wants people to think it's me, and that means I have to leave.'

'No,' she said, the word turning over in Bucky’s stomach.

'Yes. And it means you have to leave too. You can't go back to the apartment. You have to get out of here.'

'No.'

'Yes, Darcy,' he said firmly. 'I can't let them find you.'

'But I know SHIELD. I know these guys'—

—'Not anymore. Listen to me Darcy. It has never been more important. You have to trust me. Get out of Romania. Get out of Europe. Wherever you go, tell no-one you were ever here. No-one, even if you think you can trust them. When you leave this place, I no longer exist. And don't listen to the news.' He broke off, coughing to dislodge the blockage in his throat. 'I'm me,' he said. 'I'm not him anymore.'

'I know,' she said, and it sounded like she was crying, and the sound broke his soul in half. 'I love you. I'll get out, I swear.'

He closed his eyes. He shouldn't have, but he didn't have the strength to keep them open. 'Good. I’ll contact you when I can. I—I love you.'

He didn't let her respond. Hanging up the phone, he checked his surroundings and headed for his apartment.

“Hello?”

Black spots invade Bucky’s eyeline. His head fills with static. He clenches his jaw so tight his teeth could snap.

“Hello . . . Bucky?” she whispers, her voice so small—so, so small. He hasn’t heard her say his name since he first found himself in Wakanda. How many years ago was that now? So many. Too many.

“Did she pick up this time?” Steve asks, but the words are muffled against Bucky’s ears.

“Darcy,” he breathes. His face feels wet. And hot. His lungs burn, as if he has been running in the Italian summertime wearing his military uniform.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Bucky.”

Steve vanishes from the room. It is only Bucky and Darcy who remain.

“It’s me,” he says, “I’m here. I’m okay. Are you—are you okay?” he asks, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting so hard he tastes blood.

“Yes.” She’s crying again. He is too. “I’m okay. I am so fucking okay. Where are you?”

“I’m close. Still near the battlefield. But I’m coming. Where are you?”

Stumbling over her words, she eventually manages to give Bucky her Brooklyn address. He repeats it out loud with the blind expectation that Steve is still in the room and writing it down.

“When can you get here?” she asks.

With the help from the guy with the magic hands, instantly. But he won’t ask him for help. Even though he wants to. “Soon. I’ll get a jet with Steve and we’ll be there soon.” He is about to hang up—he is too excited; he is sick with excitement—but she says something that halts his movements.

“It’s been so lonely without you,” she says. “It’s been so lonely and so long. Just, get to me, Bucky.”

So long? Does that mean . . .? “I will,” he says, and it is her who hangs up on him.

Steve acquires a jet within twenty minutes of Bucky putting the phone down. The kind old woman gives them both hugs before they leave her house for the last time. “I’m glad you got through to her,” she says. There is a sadness in her eyes. Someone from her life must not have made it back. Bucky nods, squaring his shoulders as he follows Steve.

“I’ll get us there,” he says. Bucky nods again. His vocal cords aren’t working.

Darcy survived the Decimation. She has been waiting for him for seven years. With the time he spent frozen in Wakanda, the time he spent as dust, the time he spent fighting, to him it has been a blip. A passing moment. Agonising, yes, and tortuous, but hardly any time at all.

But for her. For Darcy, it has been so many years. And still, after all of this time, she is waiting for him.

“You didn’t tell me about her, Buck,” Steve says once they’ve reached cruising altitude.

Bucky stares ahead out the window. He loves Steve like a brother. They are family. If it weren’t for Steve believing in him, trusting that he was battling against HYDRA with all of his might, he would either be in jail or dead. But he will not defend his silence. “I didn’t tell anyone,” he says. “I couldn’t risk it.”

“If you couldn’t risk it,” Steve says, and Bucky knows exactly what he will say next, “then why did you get involved in the first place?”

“It wasn’t like I sought her out. I didn’t plan this. It just . . . happened. I tried to stop it, but there was nothing I could do.”

“Nothing? Buck, you could have cut ties. You could have told her it was too dangerous and made her leave. You could have done”—

—“I didn’t want to, okay? I found her and I didn’t want to let her go. I was so sick of running away from everyone and everything, of feeling like an alien, that when I met her, and she made me feel normal again, like I did before the war, I made the decision to be with her. I know it was stupid, but I don’t care,” Bucky says, releasing his clenched fists. He hadn’t realised he had closed his hands. Leaning back against the seat, he wipes his face.

“You really do love her, then?”

Bucky looks at Steve out the corner of his eye. “I do,” he says, and it is the first time he has said this to anyone other than Darcy, and it feels good.

“Then I can’t wait to meet her.”

“You’ll like her,” Bucky says. It’s strange talking about her in the open like this. “Not everyone does, but you will.”

“I already like her.” Steve means it. Bucky knows, because Steve only ever says what he means.

Steve lands the jet in an empty field. There are lots of empty fields. Bucky wonders if they are where demolished buildings, playgrounds, schools once stood. Maybe the survivors couldn’t live to see them knowing their children or parents or lovers were no longer around to enjoy them.

The address Darcy gave him is near the field. It isn’t an apartment like he assumed. It’s a house. Single-story, detached, with a front and back garden. There are flowers in pinks and purples and blues either side of the front door. Bucky’s entire body vibrates the further up the driveway he gets. She is going to make such fun of his hair. She already thought it was too long when they first met. And his beard. She hates the beard. Says it scratches her face when she kisses him.

God, he can’t wait to kiss her again.

He doesn’t make it to the door. He doesn’t make it, because Darcy bursts through before he can reach the patio steps.

It isn’t like a film. They don’t come to a halt and stare at each other, breathing heavily until someone snaps. No, it is nothing like that. Darcy runs straight for him and throws her arms around his neck, bashing into him so hard he almost loses his footing. He instantly wraps himself around her. His body starts fizzing again. Each breath feels like someone has poured a carbonated drink down his lungs.

He hears someone crying, and it isn’t until he hears Darcy whispering soothing words into his ear—soothing words interrupted by hiccups—that he realises he is the one crying. And he realises he never thought he’d see her again.

“I’m alright,” she says, taking his face in her hands. She strokes his cheeks with her thumbs. Wipes away the tears. She is crying too. Her face is red and swollen and drenched, and he can only imagine how much worse he looks. “You’re alright,” she says. Tears splatter the inside of her glasses. He bets she is looking at him through a kaleidoscope. Getting to her tiptoes, Darcy crushes her forehead to his. She kisses him. Her lips taste like salt. Like grief. Like honey. All of the good and all of the bad. She pulls away smiling through her sobs. “We’re alright.”

* * *

you were the light in my eyes/

you're the answer

* * *

She is wearing his sweater and sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring down at him. Her fingers trace the bruises on his collarbone. She has never seen him after a battle. She winces at the sight of every new patch of discoloured skin.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, poking his sternum.

Bucky’s breath hitches. “Only when you press it,” he says. She smiles guiltily, moving her finger to his left arm.

“No star,” she says, a stray droplet marching down her face. Bucky reaches up and wipes it away. “Sorry. I am happy. Too happy, I think. My body doesn’t know what the fuck it’s doing.”

“I’ve never cried this much,” Bucky admits, pulling on the sweater’s sleeve to get Darcy to lie down again. “I didn’t know I could cry this much.”

“I’m not surprised, you poor, repressed thing.”

“Not repressed anymore. Shuri cleared me of all of that,” he says.

Darcy rolls onto her side. Lifting herself up by the elbow, she places her head in her hand and stares at him. “I loved you before,” she says. “I love you still,” she says, “but I want you to know that I loved you before. Before you were ‘fixed’ or ‘cured’ or whatever,” she says, using air quotes to make her point. With her free hand, she smoothes her pointer finger over his lips. “I love you.”

He could burst. He thinks he might. With everything bubbling inside of him, he will not be surprised if he explodes. Sitting up, Bucky leans forward and takes Darcy into his arms. He kisses her lips, just because he can. Because he has missed her mouth.

This is like coming awake. Coming alive. Finally. After more than seventy years of being shackled to death, Bucky is alive and breathing.

“I love you,” he says into Darcy’s neck. He pinches the hem of the sweater and pulls up.

#fanfiction #post-avengers: endgame #darcy x bucky #the winter soldier #bucky barnes #darcy lewis #avengers: endgame spoilers #wintershock #romance #my writing #mine