#the fact that true love travels on a gravel road and any day now and gentle on my mind | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baepsaesbae · 4 years

Text

Personal Galaxy

Pairing— Jungkook x female reader

Genre— SMUT, Fluff, Established relationship au

Warnings— Explicit unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism (they’re outside), oral (m receiving), mild swearing, fluffy boyfriend vibes that will make you love Jungkook even more

Word count— ~4.1k

About— You and your boyfriend, Jungkook, decide to go stargazing as a special treat for your anniversary.

A/N— Happy Birthday Jungkook! This was a collab with @goldenclosetnetwork for their Golden Closet Net Jungkook Birthday Project. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think! (also this beautiful banner was whipped up in record time by the marvelous @kimtaehyunq)

After college starts, summer is no longer a relaxing season dedicated to lounging around and goofing off with friends. Unfortunately, now summers were filled with internships or temporary summer jobs. You got the short end of the stick though, as your summer was going to be filled with summer classes. Along with taking summer classes, you had to deal with the grueling heat. Walking back and forth from your classes to your dorm was quite an ordeal, as the sun drained you of all your energy.

Your only solace of not going home was that you were close to your boyfriend, Jungkook. You guys started dating towards the end of the spring semester, so the relationship was somewhat new. He was nothing but incredibly sweet to you, and you honestly could not believe you were dating him. From what you observed, he was basically perfect.

At first you thought he was a little shy, but when you got to know him, you soon realized he’s just a huge lovable dork. He loved gaming, and bragged about what his rank in League of Legends used to be (platinum, he was in the top 8% of all people who played). You tried to take him seriously, but you couldn’t help but laugh. You didn’t laugh because you were making fun of him, you laughed because he was just too cute. You adored the way his eyes twinkled when he talked about what he was passionate about. He would get lost in his own world and ramble on before he realized you were still there. At that point he would reach out and pull you into a hug and ask about your day.

After a long day of listening to a boring chemistry lecture, you finally got back to your dorm. You freshened up with a quick shower and collapsed into your bed. You were about to drift off when your phone starts to buzz. It was a video call from Jungkook.

“Hey baby what’s up?” Jungkook beamed on the other end. It looked like he just got out of the shower too.

“Hey Kookie. I’m done with class for the day. Have I told you how much I hate chemistry?” you groaned in response.

“Plenty of times. In fact, multiple times a day. Can’t blame you though. You can relax when I come see you this weekend,” Jungkook tried to cheer you up.

Jungkook lived about an hour away from campus, so he stayed in a dorm during the school year. However, he went home during the summer break. With that being said, he insisted on coming down to see you every weekend. At first you protested, arguing that gas was too expensive and the commute would take too much time. But he simply said, “I just want to see my girl. What’s so wrong with that? It’s no one’s decision but mine.” You couldn’t argue with him after that.

“Why don’t we do something different this weekend?” you asked. This weekend would mark your 3 month anniversary.

“Yeah? Like in the bedroom?” he was intrigued.

“No! I mean...sure? Wait no that’s not what I’m talking about right now, you dingus. Why don’t we get away or something? There’s a park about an hour away that is known for stargazing! They have their own observatory and all that. Would you wanna--”

“Yes. Let’s do it.” Jungkook didn’t even let you finish. You knew he’d be excited. Along with videogames, anything pertaining to outer space had his heart. He loved reading about various stars, and was always hypothesizing how space travel would work.

The weekend couldn’t come fast enough. You spaced out in lecture often, but now you definitely couldn’t focus. The thought of being hand in hand with Jungkook while traversing the trails together was enough to make your heart flutter. That, coupled with the fact that you two would be under the stars without any air pollution, really had you on Cloud 9.

You gleefully hopped into Jungkook’s car in the late afternoon. Jungkook was wearing his favorite bucket hat with his usual casual clothes.

“Hello beautiful,” Jungkook leaned over to kiss you, “Let’s go get our dinner. How do ready made sandwiches sound?”

“Sounds perfect! Why don’t we get some fruit too?” you sat back in your seat.

“Ohhh healthy. Yes ma’am we can do that.” he drove to the closest supermarket.

“Hey babe, let’s get this bread,” Jungkook joked as he picked up a sandwich. You couldn’t help but laugh at his little one-liner. You both love that meme. You guys strolled over to the fruits section. Of course, there had to be a debate over which fruits to get.

“It’s hot outside so why don’t we get watermelon?” you suggested.

“Mm that’s a good point. But watermelons are basically just water. Why don’t we get pineapples instead? We can see if that myth really is true?” Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“You dog!” you playfully slap his arm, “Let’s get both then. The more the merrier.”

“Okiedokie. Don’t act like you don’t wanna try the pineapple trick though,” he teased.

“Maybe I do. What of it?” you retorted.

“Nothing. That’s perfect for me,” he winked as you guys went to checkout.

The drive to the park was relaxing. Jungkook played his music and sang along to all the songs. You occasionally chimed in whenever you knew the lyrics, but you preferred to listen to him instead. Even when he was messing around, his angelic voice was still euphoric. You were pleasantly surprised when he first sang in front of you. You didn’t think it was possible to hear an angel up close.

Getting away from the city was something you needed. As the tall buildings faded in the background, a more sparse landscape came into view. You loved the open road. Sure, the neverending grass and scattered trees weren’t the most breathtaking view, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You saw the occasional cow or horse, and never failed to point them out to Jungkook. He would always respond with a “wow!” or a “so cute!” and chuckle at you. Everything you did was so adorable to him, though he wasn’t the most vocal about all that mushy stuff. He was sure he had already fallen in love with you, but he wasn’t sure if you felt the same yet. He’d keep that to himself for a little bit longer.

The park itself was nothing grand. It being closer to the coast meant that it was a little on the swampy side. After several attempts to make sense of the provided park map, Jungkook finally found a parking lot.

“Okay according to the map, this is the closest parking lot to the observatory. I think there’s a trail nearby too,” you say as you hand him the map.

“Let’s go!” Jungkook leapt out of the car before he could even see you trying to give him the map.

Jungkook grabbed the food from the backseat as you got out of the car. Sadly, neither of you had a stereotypical picnic wicker basket, so everything was just in the plastic shopping bag from the store. That didn’t make it any less charming when Jungkook started swinging the bag back and forth in one hand while doing the same thing to your hand on his other side.

The sun was beginning to set, but you could still feel its warmth in the breaks between the shady parts of the trail Jungkook led you on. The trail itself was basically a small gravel path that led from the parking lot to a picnic site overlooking a swampy lake. The trees that grew in the open grove by the picnic tables were extremely old, as they loomed high overhead.

Neither of you had spoken since you left the car. You were both enjoying the fresh air and new sights. The candid sounds of nature filled the air. From the buzzing of the cicadas, to the occasional whooping of unseen birds, the authenticity of it all had you in a trance. Jungkook squeezed your hand and you snapped back to reality. Your eyes wandered back to him to see a soft smile on his face.

“Is this table okay, baby?” he looked at you with his doe eyes.

“Yeah it’s good. Do you like this place so far?” you asked as you started to get the food out.

“I do. It’s beautiful. Everything is just so...natural. Obviously,” he chuckled, “The scenery is the second most beautiful thing here.”

“Mm okay I’ll bite. What’s the first most beautiful thing here?” you cocked your head in amusement.

“Me, of course! Why would you even ask that when you already know the answer?” he laughed.

“Oh you’re so right. How silly of me. I have your food here, you dork. Do you wanna start with the pineapples or watermelons first?”

“Let’s open the watermelons since it’s still kinda hot out,” he plopped down beside you.

You foolishly skipped lunch, so your stomach was killing you. Jungkook joked that it sounded like a dying cat during the car ride. Sometimes it got so loud that he could hear it over his music. He wanted you to eat while he drove, but you refused because you wanted to eat together. Thinking back, you realized you could have fed him while he was driving. It’s not an issue anymore though, not when you’re both wolfing down your sandwiches. The watermelon was definitely a good choice, as it was a perfect weapon to combat the heat.

There was a gazebo next to the water that allowed visitors to get a better view of the swampy environment. You led Jungkook over to it after packing up the leftovers (only a few pineapples were left). The water was murky, most of the vegetation that surfaced looked dead, and everything put together made the place seem perfect for filming a swamp horror film. Despite all of that, you couldn’t help but think it was still beautiful. Upon a closer look, you spotted some small turtles on the closest log by the gazebo. Of course you excitedly pointed them out to Jungkook, who cooed at how cute they were. Jungkook brought you closer to him so he could hug you from behind and rested his chin atop your head. He loved the height difference between you two, it always made him feel like that much more of YOUR man. He also mercilessly teased you for being short, but that was just an added bonus.

“Do you feel relaxed?” he whispered in your ear before nibbling it.

“I feel so relaxed, darling,” you say, leaning into him, “The sunset is gorgeous out here. Even if it feels like we’re about to get attacked by a swamp creature at any second.”

“Yeah, instead we’re being attacked by a billion fucking mosquitoes. Babe, I don’t think your bug spray is working,” Jungkook swatted away the hovering pests.

“But my mom got it for me! It’s supposed to be a more organic and natural spray,” you pout.

“Well, I’m sorry but your mom’s organic bug spray isn’t doing shit. In fact, I feel like it’s attracting them,” his swatting became more forceful.

“Oh, you’re not even getting bit. They’re all over ME,” you say as you started to feel insanely itchy all over your arms and legs, “Let’s go to the observatory, the sun has already begun to set. Also there are probably more mosquitoes here by the water, so let’s get the hell away from that.”

“There’s still about half an hour of sunlight left,” Jungkook observed after checking his phone, “We have some time to kill. Wanna check out more of this trail?”

“Sure. As long as it leads away from the water,” you shrugged as you followed Jungkook into the forested area.

Golden hour shone down through the trees. The rays made Jungkook glow and look even more ethereal. He rubbed his thumb over your hand as he led you down the trail. You absentmindedly brought his hand up to your mouth to plant a soft kiss on the back of it.

“I haven’t seen anyone on this trail the entire time we’ve been here,” Jungkook observed.

“It’s nice. It’s like our own little sanctuary,” you agreed.

“And you look so cute in that outfit of yours,” Jungkook’s voice lowered.

“What are you suggesting, Jungkook?” you played along, caressing his bicep.

Jungkook abruptly led you off the beaten path, into a more heavily wooded area. He spun you around into a deep kiss, backing you up against a tree. You palmed him through his pants, finding him already half hard.

“What if we get caught?” you huffed into his mouth.

“Doesn’t that make it more exciting?” he said as he nipped at your neck while fondling your breasts.

“I’m gonna have bug bites on my ass,” you laughed.

“I’ll bite your ass when we get back to even it out,” he chuckled into another kiss.

You forcefully switched positions with Jungkook as you tugged off his pants. You kissed along his jawline and down his neck before sinking to your knees in front of him. His erection bulged in his underwear, begging to be set free.

You teasingly licked him over his underwear, making him groan. As much as you wanted to continue teasing him, you didn’t want to get caught before he actually had the chance to fuck you.

You pulled off his underwear, leaving him fully exposed. You delicately kissed the tip of his penis like it was some sort of polite greeting. Then, you lewdly flattened your tongue on the base of his cock and licked a long stripe upwards and finished at the top with a swirl. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked him off at a repetitive pace.

“Do you want me to fuck you here, baby?” Jungkook huffed above you.

You looked up at him with innocent eyes as you deepthroated him. Saliva dripped off his cock and down your chin, a sight that would make any man sweat. You nodded and released him with a satisfying *pop*.

“You’re so fucking sexy. Switch places with me and face the tree,” he commanded.

You did as he said, bending over at the waist. He tugged off your bottoms, revealing your dripping core. He tantalizingly ran his tip along your folds.

“Hurry up! I don’t wanna get caught,” you complained as you wiggled your butt at him.

“So impatient,” Jungkook admonished as he slapped your ass.

You didn’t have time to complain because he jammed his dick into you immediately after his slap. You instinctively covered your mouth to suppress your moans. Your free hand toyed with your clit, rubbing it intensely. The thought of being caught at any second had you even more wet than usual. Jungkook noticed.

“You’re so wet. I’m gonna cum in no time,” Jungkook groaned as he thrust deeper into you.

Jungkook released his load into you. You moaned as you felt his hot juices fill you up, mixing with your own mess as it dribbled down your legs. Jungkook gave your ass one last slap before rummaging for a spare napkin in the picnic bag. He cleaned you up as best as he could, but you desperately needed a shower. That’ll have to wait.

Retracing your steps, you both wound up back at the parking lot, which was perfect because the trail to the observatory was just on the other side. The once empty parking lot was now nearly full as the new arrivals made their way towards the observatory. The sun was almost fully set at this point, so it was getting a little hard to see.

“Babe look!” Jungkook shouted as he pointed to a little creature that scurried in front of you. You jump back from his sudden yell, and then lock eyes with the possum that stood in your path.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or to call it cute,” you say, clinging tightly onto Jungkook’s arm as the possum lost interest in your staring contest and continued on its journey.

“I would say it’s cute. As long as it doesn’t attack you. Oh holy SHIT babe don’t look up!” Jungkook found himself frozen in place.

“Huh why-- OH MY FUCKIN GOD!” you neglected to heed his warning. Looming about two feet above Jungkook’s head was a gigantic spider. The web it was dangling from was enormous. You hate all kinds of insects (yes a spider isn’t an insect, but it falls under the creepy crawly category so you hate it too) but spiders are by far the scariest to you. After you screamed you clutched Jungkook’s arm tighter, probably cutting off his circulation.

“Okay okay just close your eyes and keep close to me. It seems like those guys are strung along the entire path,” Jungkook kept you by his side as you guys progressed past the trees. You helplessly kept your eyes closed and completely relied on Jungkook to guide you. Thankfully, it only took about three minutes to get past all the trees; the observatory was in an open clearing. Jungkook gave you the ok to open your eyes again.

“Thank you Kookie, you’re so sweet to me,” you kissed Jungkook softly on the cheek.

“Usually I’d make fun of you, but those things kinda freaked me out. So I could only imagine how scared you’d be of them. Don’t worry baby, I’ll protect you,” Jungkook returned your affection with a kiss on the forehead.

The line for the main telescope was already long, so you guys ventured off to one of the smaller ones instead. There were three big telescopes in the overall observatory. Amateur stargazers were scattered around the deck with their personal telescopes. You saw them letting other people see through them, so you made a mental note to check them out after the main telescopes. The sun had finally set, and now the dark sky was illuminated with shining stars.

As you waited in line, you looked back at Jungkook, who hadn’t let go of your hand this entire time. His eyes were glued to the wonders above him. His doe eyes were wide and twinkled more than you’ve ever seen before. His mouth was agape and you were amused by how captivated he was; everything about this boy was so pure. It was in that moment that you realized you had fallen head over heels for him. You wanted to tell him you loved him right then and there, but you held your tongue. You were worried that he didn’t feel the same way. Hopefully one day he could return the sentiment, but for now you will keep those three words to yourself.

“You lot are pretty lucky! It had been cloudy for the past week. Tonight’s the first night that the sky’s been clear. It’s also the perfect night to view Saturn!” the telescope’s attendant informed the people in line.

You and Jungkook were the next people to go. You were amazed at how big the telescope was, and this wasn’t even the big main one yet. You went first. You climbed up a small step stool to get to the eye piece. You peered into it and was amazed by what you saw. The image was not the clearest, but it was pretty evident that you were looking at Saturn because of the iconic rings. Of course you could look up better pictures of Saturn online, but seeing it for yourself made it more special. Experiencing it all with Jungkook was something you would not trade for the world. You waited for Jungkook outside after you finished.

“Wasn’t that incredible ___?! We actually saw all the rings! And it’s a pretty color! I mean it’s like a reddish brown. We can call it a rusty color because that sounds cooler...ah I can’t wait to go to the main telescope,” Jungkook grabbed your hand and bounded to the next line. Watching him get so excited was enough to make getting eaten alive by mosquitoes worth it (yeah, they never ceased their attack on you).

“Is this the best date you’ve ever been on then?” you squeezed his hand as he continued to bounce up and down. His abundant energy always amazed you, and certainly came in handy in certain situations *wink wink*.

“Oh is this a date? What? Do you like me or something, ___?” he teased, looking down at you, “Yes, this is hands down the best date I have ever been on. Thank you for suggesting this babe,” he grabbed your other hand and pulled you in for a kiss. You weren’t fond of PDA, but you’re willing to make an exception for Jungkook.

The wait in line lasted for about half an hour, and you wondered which celestial being this telescope was being focused on. Everything around the observing deck was kept dark to make it easier to see through the telescopes. It was also advised to not look at any phone screens because your eyes would have to readjust to the darkness afterward. You and Jungkook complied with the tip for the optimal viewing experience. Jungkook was rambling about UFO conspiracy theories when you interrupted him by pointing out the fireflies behind him. They danced in the darkness of the open air, and it was your turn to be captivated. Yes, you hated insects, but fireflies had a special place in your heart. You thought they were fairies when you were younger, and you would spend hours playing with them. Your parents would even help you catch them. The nostalgia that hit automatically put a smile on your face.

“You’re adorable, you know that ___?” Jungkook smiled as he wrapped his arms around you, “I wish you’d look at me that way,” he pouted.

“Oh shut up Kookie. I do look at you that way, but you never notice,” you stuck your tongue at him. Jungkook laughed in response. His laughter stopped and his eyes widened when he realized you guys were next in line.

“What is this one looking at?” Jungkook asked the telescope attendant.

“Oh, all three of these are pointed at Saturn,” he replied.

“Oh no, we waited in line for so long just to look at the same thing,” you said, shoulders sagging.

“Awesome! Since this one is the biggest, does that mean that we’ll get a better view than the other two telescopes?” Jungkook asked, his eyes twinkling once again.

“Uh, technically yes. But only slightly better, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference,” the attendant replied as he let Jungkook enter.

From the way he asked, it probably didn’t bother Jungkook that he’d be seeing the same thing again. Once it was your turn, you realized the attendant was right. There wasn’t much of a difference in the quality of the image you were seeing, but it didn’t make personally seeing Saturn any less magical.

“Seeing it a second time was super cool. Can you believe it? People a hundred years ago would have never thought they’d see Saturn with their own eyes!” Jungkook greeted you when you came out.

“Yeah that’s all pretty dope, but I kinda wanted to see something else. Maybe some of the people who brought their own telescopes are looking at other things,” you took Jungkook’s hand and made a beeline to the amateur stargazers.

There was an interesting assortment of telescopes there. Some were big and bulky, some were sleek and aesthetically pleasing, and some just straight up looked like weapons. Multiple people were willing to let you both look through their telescopes. You both saw an additional two stars whose names you will never remember, along with seeing Saturn one last time.

You and Jungkook stood in the middle of the deck, gazing upwards to soak in the clarity of the stars before your departure. As if the night couldn’t get any more magical, a shooting star streaked across the sky. Oohs and aahs were heard from people in the general vicinity when they saw it too. Jungkook pulled you close to him, his face inches from yours.

“You know, maybe we were lovers in a past life, because I feel like I’ve known you forever. I think you’re the most special thing in this universe. Thank you for today,” Jungkook said tenderly.

“You’re welcome, darling. I would give you the whole world if I could,” you smiled, slowly leaning closer to him.

“For you, my dear, I’ll give you your own personal galaxy,” Jungkook practically whispered as he cupped your face and brought you in for a kiss. The kiss was the epitome of sweet, as his soft lips brushed against yours without much force. You swear you’ve never been happier in your life. Thank the stars for Jeon Jungkook.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #gcn23 #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bayanihanboost #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic

460 notes · View notes

yoonia · 4 years

Text

About Time // Part 19

Character: Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. BTS)

↳ Type/Genre/words | Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au/Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au), Eventual Smut / 13,5k words

↳ Prompts | “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

↳ Summary | Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

↳ Ratings | Mature/+18 and up

↳ Warnings | this chapter contains multiple smut scenes: involving public sex, first time sex, thigh riding, explicit scene of sexual intercourse and intense foreplay (finger fucking, f receiving), mentions of cancer, (probably) inaccurate medical and law terms

↳ Author’s Note | If you find a few scenes within this chapter that seem a bit familiar, perhaps it’s because you have read it before in a different form. The final scene for this chapter was taken from a short drabble that I created during a muse game for this story, with a few adjustments on the scene itself to make it seem more fitting into the timeline. I do hope you’ll enjoy this one. I know there are lots of you who have been waiting for this moment to come :)

↳ ⤎ Previous Chapter | Series Index: About Time | Next Chapter ⇢

Song Companion | Live - Lightning Crashes

—Present life, year 2017—

Jimin had become silent ever since the two of us left the pub. But my mind had never been so loud as it was at the moment and it had been this way since I stepped out of that place, leaving behind the memory of his altercations with Jungkook earlier.

Questions after questions kept coming while the events and pieces of the conversation they shared back at the pub continued to replay themselves inside my head.

While Jimin kept his eyes locked on the road, his posture was tense and his grip on the wheel remained hard and tight that I could see his knuckles turning white. I could even begin to faintly hear the sound of its leather cover cracking and pulling beneath his palms. Yet I kept quiet beside him, letting my mind wander as I had my eyes looking away and out the window. I had no idea what to say to him or how to react, while at the same time, I was trying to ignore the way his tension and rage kept rolling out of him in waves as he drove us further and further away from the pub.

Between being afraid that any word I said would come out with accusations, or perhaps being called crazy if I should talk to him about my predicament or to hurt him if I admitted to him why I kept being pulled to Jungkook for some reason, I decided to give him some time and space to calm down. Hoping that maybe once he did, he would be able to talk about it and I would be able to question him.

The silence thickened as each second ticked by, until a deep sigh came out of him, breaking the stillness that had grown between us.

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said to me. His voice was soft, and I could feel his remorse lathering every word he said that I could not help but to turn to look at him.

“Sorry? What for?”

He gave me a rueful smile as he glanced my way, briefly, before looking back on the road. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I shouldn’t have let him rile me up the way he did.” He sighed. “I must have ruined the mood for tonight.”

I opened my mouth, ready to argue and try to make him feel better. But I held my tongue, knowing that the words might come out wrong and I would probably be pushing his guilt further instead of urging him to move on.

Shaking my head, I told him all that I could say at the moment. “It’s—whatever. It’s fine,” I said, even though there was a huge part of me that begged to understand. But must this night be filled with wondering and analysing things?

Did I really want to know the answers?

Did I really want to know what those words meant? The words Jungkook said which had brought out dizziness that silenced everything running through my head at the point of hearing it?

I may have said that it didn’t matter, but my mind betrayed me by voicing out the questions once again.

Why would he say something like that? Why did they seem to hate each other? Have they met before aside from the night I introduced them together? Or did they know each other before?

Thankfully, neither of those questions had ever slipped my mouth. It was close enough to, but his soft chuckled came out before I could speak and it was enough to silence the voices in my head. Especially when this time, the small smile he was giving me finally reached his eyes even if I could still see his remorse coming out clearer in them. “I promise. I’m not always like this,” he said. He took a hand off of the wheel and rubbed his palm over his face.

My chest tightened when I saw the distress on his face, and the words just came spilling right out of me before ie realised it.

“I know you’re not.”

His eyes grew wide at my words and his gaze came back to me before his smile returned a bit wider. And he was giving me the one smile that was familiar to my eyes, one that was honest and free. The same exact smile that had me falling in love with him in a different lifetime. With its presence, my heart clenched tight the same exact way it did the first time I fell for him. It felt stricken with longing and despair, while at the same time, it was making me feel warm inside.

“And how would you know that?” he asked me.

While there were lots of different answers that I could choose from, one of them being something which could reveal the secrets that I had been keeping away from him, I held my tongue once again. Keeping things to myself before I could ruin this moment.

But I didn’t hold back from reaching out. I rested my hand on his thigh as I whispered with a sigh, “Because I know you, Jimin.”

I felt his body growing tense under my touch for a brief moment, before he easily softened into my touch. So I carried on, telling him what I needed him to hear. Something that according to my memory was the one thing that I had failed to say to him.

“I know that you are not a violent person or anyone who has any vile intentions,” I told him, while images of Jimin confronting Jungkook at the pub blended together with the sight of him fighting Jungkook at a hospital, something that had come into my dreams more than once. “Anyone else would snap when confronted and riled up the same way it did to you. I’m not putting the blame on anyone but the situation, but you had handled it really well.”

His shoulders fell down with relief and I felt lighter, glad to be able to somewhat reassure him and change the mood after he was feeling down ever since we left. Before I could pull my hand away, Jimin placed his hand on mine and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for believing in me.”

Laughing a little, I squeezed his hand in return and tried to lighten the mood further. “Now, I also believe that someone had promised me a good night.”

He chuckled without looking away from the road. Though his eyes glistened with a promise and hope in them. “That I did,” he hummed softly, taking my hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss on my wrist before letting me rest my palm on his thigh once again. “I’m taking you to a place that I know you would love. At least, I hope you would.”

“I trust you. As long as I’m with you, I know I’d be happy,” I told him truthfully, knowing that it was exactly how I felt whenever I was with him.

The conversation felt lighter once Jimin had gotten everything that was bothering him out of his chest.

As he continued to drive, we talked about how the whole day went—about his day in campus and his practice, about my job interview and the day I spent with his cousin—sans the part about my meeting with Taehyung since we avoided bringing up any event regarding the pub earlier once again.

The drive felt far and long. The night was getting late, yet I didn’t mind being out so late at all when he made me feel completely safe when I was with him. This trip reminded me of the night he took me out to the city park on new year’s eve, where he took me up to the hill overlooking the city. Except that I knew the destination we were heading tonight was going to be further away from the place where he first kissed me and asked me to be his girlfriend.

It seemed like a long time ago when in fact only months had passed since then. It sure felt like I had been with Jimin for a lifetime when everything just seemed right when we were together.

I kept my hand resting on his lap as he drove on, letting him brush against it once or twice as we talked during the drive. The city passed by alongside us. We had somehow passed the main roads from the city and into the highway, and he kept on driving until the city lights became few and far in between, the buildings that had filled our view out the window were replaced by trees. Then he drove out of the highway, until we were surrounded by nothing but dirt and rock and the asphalt road slowly turned into gravel pathways with scrub bushes lining up on our sides.

“Where are we?” I asked him curiously as the terrain we were passing by turned rough, joined by a few bumps over ruts and ridges as we drove away from the main road and the path started to ascend to a higher altitude.

“Someplace quiet,” he simply said, giving me a secretive smile as the mirth in his eyes grew stronger.

I should be worried or concerned to find us driving to a strange place outside of town. But I only grew curious. The excitement came over me just as the road in front of us cleared out to an opening. The car had been driving further up until we reached to a certain plateau located right at the top of the rocky hills, way higher than the place he had once taken me to look over the cityscape. Way higher than any place that we had ever gone to. As Jimin slowed the car to a halt, I looked out to see the lines of trees and the edge of the cliff opening up to a broad sky over the horizon, the blanket of city lights covering the lower ground was nothing compared to the bright night sky above and the sparkling stars that seemed to welcome our presence.

“It’s not perfect or glorious, but I know that this is the place that you would love the most. A high place, quiet, where you could watch the wide sky above and the stars painting the sky—”

Before he could finish his sentence, I turned to him, finishing his words with a grateful smile and with my heart swelling in warmth, “—an open space where I could breathe the clean, fresh air.”

He turned to look at me. The warm gaze he was giving me spoke a thousand words. The questions were still there, hanging right at the tip of my tongue, but I brushed them away.

Enjoy the moment, I remembered Taehyung said. Enjoy the present. You will find your answers there.

“You were right. You knew exactly what I’d love.”

Jimin leaned in, pressing his lips against mine. His kiss was gentle but enough to bring forth the heat in my belly to want more. But he pulled back before I could have my fill, handing me a blanket to carry.

“Come. We haven’t seen the best part of it yet.”

My eyes grew wide. “We haven’t? You mean there’s more other than you taking me to a secluded place where you could hide me and nobody would find my body?”

Jimin’s head fell back as he laughed. “That sounds tempting, though you were right about this place being secluded,” he said, teasing me with another kiss that was gentle and chaste, letting me have a quick taste with a promise for more. “It’ll be nobody here but us.”

“I bet,” I whispered against his lips. I brushed my hands on the blanket he gave me, just as he reached for another that seemed thick enough for us to lay on top of. “Don’t tell me that we’re going to camp out.”

“Close, but not quite. I remember promising you dinner too,” he teased, giving me a wink before he reached out to the backseat, pulling a whole bag of groceries onto his lap, filled with snacks, chocolate bars, two bottles of mineral water, and best of all, microwave heated mini-market bought lunchboxes. “Our fancy dinner.”

I laughed and kissed him on his cheek. “Perfect.”

This side of the mountains would probably have been scorching hot under the sunlight if Jimin had taken me here during the daytime.

Tonight, however, the sky was clear enough to show all the bright stars overhead. The air was a bit cold and windy, but not so much that it would make me wish we were cuddled up inside his warm car instead of out here in the open air.

Jimin kept a tight hold of my hand as he led me tramping around the landed bushes, jumping over and around a few rocks that we came upon on our path, before we reached the embankment that Jimin had pointed out to when we first arrived in this place. Jimin climbed ahead and pulled me up with him. There was a flat rock on the top, wide enough for us to sit and lie down on, and safe enough to set out our small picnic without being afraid of getting too close to the edge.

This far high up, I could see the plateau over the edge, a wide flat space between hills and valleys, with sparkles of lights coming from the houses and small buildings located down there. I was filled with all nerves and anticipation, the joy of being up and above was mixed together with the fear of falling. But then I looked up at Jimin, and it made me feel all better knowing that we were here together. That he would be there by my side, ready to catch me before I could ever fall down.

We straightened the blanket on top of the flat rock and laid back, looking up at the sky above.

Being there under all of those stars made me feel small and insignificant, as if everything that I had to face and deal with, all the concerns I have had, they all meant nothing. Just a small blip in the universe. A mystery to unfold but never a necessity as we continued to exist.

As if being thrust back into the past had no significant value compared to everything else in this whole universe.

Being under the wide open space overlooking a small part of the universe really brought me to look at things in a new perspective, and suddenly, everything that Taehyung had told me finally made sense.

There was no point in dwelling in the past or the future that had been supposedly written for me or what I was trying to rewrite for myself. What mattered was now, this moment. I looked to my side to find Jimin lying on his side, looking at me. While it felt like I was the only person in the world when I looked up at the sky with all of my concerns weighing me down, looking at him made me feel less lonely. We could be the only two people in the world, and I found there was no need to change any of it all.

“You have that look again,” he mused softly, holding back a smile as he kept his eyes on me.

“What look?”

The smile broke through, and his eyes were filled with mirth when he answered, “The kind of look that tells me you are overanalysing things that are happening.”

I couldn’t help but return his smile, all while holding back from leaning in and kissing his plump lips the way I wanted to. “Do I make that look a lot?”

He merely shrugged. “Sometimes. I’d usually let you because I like seeing all the expression you make.”

There was an emotional tug happening inside my chest. I had gotten used to it at this point to know that it only happened whenever he was around. Whenever I was with him.

“Didn’t know that you’ve been pretty observant,” I could only muse as he grew closer. Our shoulders touching as he leaned in.

“It’s not hard,” he said. “All I had to do was pay attention. A lot of attention. And it’s easy to do that when I’m with you.” He licked his lips when he stopped talking, looking down on mine before meeting my gaze again. “You’re the only one I want to look at the whole time.”

Everything around us was dark, but for some reason, I could still see his face, as if the moonlight and all the stars above had served like multiple spotlights to illuminate him for me. He was probably seeing my face the same way, with limited lights helping him to find me. I could feel his warm breath before I noticed just how much closer he was.

“Will I miss if I try to kiss you right now?” he jokingly whispered to me when his lips were practically brushing against mine already.

I couldn’t help the laughter that came out so easily. “It is pretty dark around here,” I told him, whispering as I tried to reach out, finding his jaw with the tip of my fingers. The night did seem to grow darker at this point. Or perhaps it didn’t feel this way before when he weaved his way through the pathway, using only the flashlight from his phone to guide us. “Should I reach for the flashlight?”

He hummed. “There is no need,” he whispered, before pressing his lips at the tip of my nose. “I can always find you, even in the dark.” Then his lips finally found mine, and I welcomed him with a sigh as I sank down against him on top of the blanket.

His mouth felt like home. His kiss was warm, enough to help me forget about all of my concerns, all of the questions that had been circling in my head. None of them mattered anymore, when he was here, he was real, his hands moving gently up and down the curves and lines on my body over my soft sweater while he slowly pulled me to him, deepening the kiss in the process.

I was breathless when he pulled away, giving me a moment to take a deep breath and control my heartbeat. My palms had somehow found their way onto his chest, pressing down on where his heartbeat was pacing to the touch and the warmth we shared.

The wind blew across the valley, passing us both to remind us about the cool night air. So he pulled another blanket around us, covering us both from the chill autumn breeze. Only to have me grounded further later as he swiftly moved on top of me, his mouth making a trail of kisses from my lips, down to my jawline, then he slowed down as he traced the column of my throat.

His hand made its way to the hem of my sweater, tugging and pulling before he pulled it up so he could touch my bare belly beneath it. While his hand kept tracing upward, finding the elastic band of my bra, his lips continued tracing downward. He laid his head on my chest for a moment, closing his eyes as he listened to my heartbeat. He looked up to me after a moment and he kept his gaze on me when he pressed his lips on my covered breasts, capturing the covered tip between his mouth, releasing it when I sighed only to move to the other.

Weaving my fingers through the strands of his hair, I arched my back, giving him more as his hand slid in and tweaked a nipple from beneath my sweater. In a flashing moment, my sweater was gone, and nothing was getting in the way for him to finally taste my skin. I cried out as his fingers and his mouth worked together, pinching and biting, tuning my whole body as if he knew just which buttons to touch, to play with, to tweak, just to thrust me into the peak of my pleasure.

It didn’t take long before he brought me there, surges of bliss rushing all over my body, centered right at my core where the pulse felt the strongest, where the heat of my body pooled together into a puddle.

His eyes found me again when he brushed away the lacy front of my bra, pushing it down so he could reach more skin. My body was moving against his, my hips rolling in circles in the same rhythm as the pulse that kept rising between my legs. With my legs spread, I pressed my center against his thigh, searching for release by brushing myself against him and I could feel his muscles tensing against me as he pressed himself back to me for a short moment before he continued to move down. My fingers had somehow found their way back through his hair, where I clutched him tight, keeping him close to me at all times even as he was crawling down on me.

His lips spoke of promises and sin, and he revels in the sounds I was making to every bit of ministration he was giving me.

I felt it through his warm breath that came trailing down my skin as he continued climbing lower, his grunts coming out softly with each kiss he gave on my skin. His fingers kept dancing down my curves, as if he wanted to engrave every inch of my skin into his mind, even all the goosebumps that came out from the mixture of his warmth and the cold air around us.

He kissed his way down along my hip bone, his hands were getting busy to unbutton my jeans, freeing me further from any restraints. I lifted my hips when he tugged the waistband lower, only so that he could push my pants away. He swiftly moved his hand between my legs, delving into my panties, until he finally found the source of my pulsing heat.

His fingers danced their way down teasingly at my mound, before he found the cleft and gently spread them open for him, letting him touch me where I needed him the most. His fingers moved around the bundle of nerves hiding between my folds, circling around it until I could hear the slickness of my arousal as he gathered every drop with the tip of his fingers. Each gentle brush he gave sent fireworks through my body, the pleasure kept on rising more and more.

I cried out when he pushed a finger against the slick opening. His thumb pressing down on my throbbing clit as he inched deeper, pushing slowly through the pulsing walls. I barely felt him pushing my jeans and panties lower, exposing me to him. Then his soft tongue licked down between my folds, tasting my essence just as he continued to work his fingers inside my walls to make me release more.

“Jimin!” I called out when he took my swelling clit between his mouth, doing it so before I felt a hint of pressure when he added a finger into my pussy, pushing in and pumping softly. He stopped when he found restraint, pulling back only to push back and reach further inside, letting my walls clench tight around his digits.

“Relax for me, baby,” he grunts against my hot cunt, placing his free hand on my belly to push my hips back down when I had been pushing myself up against his mouth, tensing my muscles at the same time.

Opening my eyes to look down, I found him looking at me with a heated gaze. Hunger and lust were mixed together with the kind of look which had my heart turning warm. I released a deep exhale and let my body relax beneath him.

“Good girl,” he whispered to me, before he came back down, planting his mouth right between my legs again and expertly finding my clit for him to devour. “Now, don’t hold back on me, love. Let go and let me taste you.”

With that, his mouth came back to my nether lips, another finger came to join the others as he worked them in and out of my pussy, sending my legs trembling around his head, my fingers tightening on his hair to hold him down. My hips moved in circles, swivelling and dancing with the same rhythm he made on me to chase the surge of pleasure that continued to rise.

He kissed, licked, bit, all the while pumping his digits continuously against the sweet spot right through the hot entrance of my cunt, and I was instantly thrust into the edge. My climax came to me like a wave of warmth slowly building from my center and flowing around my body. Enveloping me with pure pleasure that had me screaming out into the wind.

A whisper of the cold breeze came upon me just as I shuddered into his mouth, an instant reminder of where we were.

I opened my eyes just as I had his fingers locked tight inside me, my pussy clenching him tight, his mouth locking tight around my clit. As I saw the ocean of stars above our heads, a surreal moment came upon me. It felt like I was flying high, drunk in pleasure and bliss with the stars around us and the moonlight lighting us both.

The sinful thought of him pleasuring me under the wide sky above and of being exposed to the universe pushed me back into another climax, thrusting me off the precipice of my orgasm that I couldn’t even cry out for it being too much for me to handle.

With a gasping sound, I embraced the pure pleasure. Letting myself to be brought up high with his touch, feeling free and elated at the same time as my orgasm came to me in smooth spasms, humming through my body, giving me the most beautiful feeling I have ever felt in the world.

Once the spasms of my release waned down to a shiver, Jimin gathered me in his arms. His touches soothed me as he gently tugged my jeans back in place. He pressed his kisses on my skin as he pulled my sweater back down, covering me from the cold.

“Should I get you warm? Or should I take you home?” he whispered, his lips brushing on my temple before he looked down at me, his eyes glinting with his desire. The haze in my head dissipated under the one word that had me clutching his shirt tight, anchoring him to me to let me know that I was not dreaming.

Home.

Glimpses of my dreams came back to me just then, and once again, I was swamped by a flood of warmth. Hope and love filled my heart, and the answer was clear.

“Take me home.”

—Present life. Jimin’s Apartment, year 2017—

His studio apartment had always felt warm and cozy.

But this night, it felt different. The good kind of different. No matter how often I had spent my time here, sleeping here almost every night instead of back in my dorm, it never truly felt like home unless he was there with me, holding me tight to him. Because he was my home. And though this place was every bit of his, I would still need him as my anchor.

Over the past few months, I had been leaving my things behind, marking my territory in his apartment. Tonight, as we entered his home with his arms wrapped around me, his kisses distracting me from looking around us, I found that the air was filled with the scent of my perfume. It washed over me so suddenly that I broke away from the kiss only to glance around, making sure that we were actually in the right place.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispered huskily as he caught my jawline with his mouth simply because he couldn’t stay away.

“Nothing,” I whispered in return, pressing my palms on his chest as I looked around for a few more seconds, sighing dreamily as I caught the sight of the foot of his bed on the far corner before finally letting myself melt into him. “I just—”

I looked up to him, catching his eyes looking down at me with wonders in them. “Your room smells like me.”

Jimin chuckled. “It does. And I love it,” he whispered, giving me a soft peck on the lips before he sheepishly confessed, “Sometimes, when you’re not sleeping here, I’d spray a bit of your perfume into my pillows so it would feel like you were there. I let your perfume sticks around more than mine because I want to feel your presence here.”

I gave him a dubious look. “Oh, Jimin,” I laughed. “That sounds a tad bit creepy yet also endearing I don’t even know how to feel.”

He laughed with me, his head falling back when he did. “Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

I placed a palm on his cheek, urging him to look at me again before I could kiss his cheek. “I actually like the fact that I’ve marked your place not only with my things but with everything else too.”

He caught my lips in his for a brief moment. “You’re welcome to do more than marking,” he said, suddenly looking a bit hesitant to continue.

“Really?” I asked him, teasingly feigning innocence to him. “Is this your way of asking me to move in with you?”

His lips twitched but he held back his smile. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

His grin slowly came back, even if his eyes kept glancing away with uncertainty before he finally spoke. “Move in with me.”

I felt my eyes sting. There was something about all of this that made me want to cry. Like there was something inside me that was slowly coming together. Which was why the answer came out easily. “I’d love to. My home is with you, Jimin.”

He breathed a sigh of relief, his gentle smile came back onto his face and I couldn’t stop myself from brushing my lips over his. The quick peck on his lips turned into a hungry kiss when he pressed me tightly against him and kissed me back. I felt his chest rumbling with a deep grunt just as my knees started to turn into jelly. What held me up were his arms around me, keeping me pressed to him before I could even attach my arms around him.

“Take me to bed, Jimin,” I said, breaking the kiss with a sigh.

When I pulled back to pull him into his bedroom, he groaned and refused to let me go. With his arms tightening around my waist, he carried me up, making me kick off my shoes and wrap my legs around his waist as he began to take me into the bedroom, hastily kissing my lips on the way there.

Jimin was almost breathless when he laid me down onto the bed, then climbed up to follow me after kicking his own shoes off. He didn’t wait long before capturing my lips on his again, pinning me right at the center of his bed as if he was afraid I would run away.

“Are you tired?” he asks me softly as he nipped on my jawline, giving me a moment to breathe.

“Kinda. Why?”

He sighed. “I just—you are so irresistible.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Who? Me?”

Instead of answering me, he lowered his head, kissing the side of my neck and I felt all the goosebumps forming on my skin. It was almost the same as they did when he touched me under the clear night sky. Except that it was no longer windy and I was still terribly sensitive to every touch he gave me. “I want to make love to you so bad,” he whispered, not bothering to wait until I responded when he bit down playfully on the exposed skin right above the neckline of my sweater.

He splayed his hand on my stomach, the warmth of his touch seeping through my sweater. Then his hand slipped under the hem, stroking my bare skin, sending tremors through me as he reminded me of how he touched me before.

“You already gave me so much pleasure and made me cum under the stars,” I said to him, my voice shaking and breathless as I arched against his palm.

“I certainly did—” he said, giving me a lazy grin. There was a hint of pride glowing in his eyes, no doubt reminiscing on how he brought me up to bliss right at the top of the hills, where only he and I existed.

Already, my body grew hot with need, calling him to touch me again. His delicate fingers tracing along my belly and up to my breasts felt good, but it was nothing compared to when he slid his fingers down, drifting lower until he could slide under the waistband of my jeans and under my panties so effortlessly as if he already knew every curve and every ridge of my body to find his way.

Jimin pressed his lips at my ear, nibbling gently as he pressed his fingers into my folds, spreading me open. My breath became a rush of short pants as I rocked into his touch and he began stroking me, giving me long, firm thrusts that sent electric shocks up my spine and liquified my bones almost instantly. My hips rolled against his hand and the pleasure peaked incredibly fast, as I was still too sensitive after the intense pleasure he gave me tonight, after what we had shared back on the rocks, after what he made me feel. My panties were still wet, and it was about to get even more drenched as he kept touching me with all the right ways he knew just exactly how to.

“Oh god—” I moaned while my body kept moving on its own accord, seeking release to the mounting pleasure rising inside me. “Jimin, please—”

“So sweet. You always look so pretty when you cum. When you release your climax on my fingers or my tongue,” he murmured while scraping his teeth on my skin, tasting me. “I want you so bad, _____.”

He pushed his fingers inside, pressing his thumb on my clit, and I gasped and shuddered as white pleasure came shooting through me. It came in waves, much softer than the one he gave me before, but it was still enough to send my body quaking in his arms. As I came down, I found myself lying on my back. Jimin was hovering on top of me, licking his fingers clean with a few soft moans rumbling from deep within his throat. Each sound he made rocked something inside me that I felt the urge to touch him.

So I pulled him down on me, kissing his lips hungrily before muttering softly. “Take me, Jimin.”

I kissed him again before he could say a thing, relishing on the taste of his mouth on mine. He had been giving me so much pleasure that I wanted to give it all back to him, to get him naked and vulnerable the same way he did to me on the rocks, or any other times I was with him. The idea of touching him until he would be lost in his pleasure sent shivers down my body. I remembered the beautiful look on his face that he would make when he embraced his pleasure, the wonder in his eyes and the smile that it brought him, and I wanted to see it all again.

Then he suddenly pulled back, his eyes lost in wonders already as he took me in silently. His eyes looking so dark and deep that I felt him embracing me with his gaze.

“What are you thinking?” My voice was hoarse, already deeply affected by him.

“I’m thinking—” he whispered, licking his lips as he ran his gaze down on me one last time before meeting my eyes again. “—that I’m going to take off your clothes, piece by piece.” He reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear, something that I had found to be the small gesture that he loved to do when he touched me, then trailed his fingers down my neck, feeling my pulse pacing beneath his fingertips.

“I’ll kiss you everywhere, taste every inch of your bare skin. And then I’m going to sink inside you so deep you will remember me being a part of you.” His palm rested on my cheek and he leaned in. His eyes were hooded when he looked at me, letting me see the clear desire burning in them when he whispered huskily, “And then, when you come, I’ll make you feel so good that the only thing coming out of your lips would be my name. In fact, I’ll make sure that everyone will hear you when you call my name as I make you come.”

“Jimin—”

My heart raced inside my chest. My whole body was throbbing with excitement, but there was a bit of fear between them as well. I have waited for this moment for a long time, yet the fear of making all the same mistakes, the fear of losing him, everything had always come together to send me to the borders of pain that were so intense that I had always kept holding back.

And now, as he kept telling me everything he wanted to do to me, all the sinful things he wanted to show me as he showed me what he truly felt for me, I knew then that I needed him more than ever.

Jimin lowered his mouth to my exposed neck when I couldn’t find the will to speak, sucking on my pulse, pulling me back to the present while chasing away all of my fears. I knew that I loved him. I always had. And every kiss that he gave me reminded me of that feeling, while he showed me just how much I could trust him. With every kiss he gave me, I slowly began to relax, relishing on the gentle current of pleasure that was beginning to grow stronger inside me I could no longer feel anything but.

His hands dropped to the hem of my sweater and skimmed up to my ribs. As promised, despite the filthy thoughts he placed into my head, he was gentle. Moving so slowly while never looking away, keeping his gaze on my face, on my eyes, as he continued to read through my expression to see if he was crossing the line that I was not ready to go over. That was when I knew that he would always take care of me, just like every single time we were together.

Through my memories, I knew that he had always put me first above all else. The days that I had spent with him had always shown me that he was still the same, so I trusted him for putting me first tonight as he reached up, caressing my breasts through the flimsy fabric of my bra.

His gentle touch played with my mounds until I felt a tight ache forming right at both tips, while at the same time, his kisses traced my pulse along my neck, sending heat pooling between my legs.

“I love touching you like this,” he whispered, making me moan as he slipped my bra down and his hands were on my bare breasts, stealing my breath as he pinched the nipples one at a time. With his touch, the electric currents I felt instantly picked up, rising from my breasts and down to my core.

Then he started peeling my clothes off—my sweater, my bra, making good of his words while kissing every inch of skin that was exposed to his eyes. His lips were soft against my skin when he returned after tossing my clothes away, making me sigh at the connection as he kept climbing down to my chest. But as he licked at the tip of my breast, taking a nipple into his mouth to suck, I arched into his mouth, wanting him to take more.

His hands traced down as he continued to nibble on my sensitive bud and tugged at my jeans. Through my hazy mind, I felt him pulling them off and down my legs, together with my panties, until I was finally completely bare beneath him.

He bent over me, kissing his way down, brushing his lips over my belly, lightly tracing his hot kisses until he reached to my thighs.

“Jimin—I need to touch you,” I whispered, reaching out to his shoulders to let him know just how much I needed to feel his body on mine.

He looked up to me with hooded eyes and a lazy grin. He pushed himself up and began to drag his shirt off, revealing his bare chest to me. He stepped back and climbed off of the bed so he could slide his jeans down his hips together with his briefs, and I immediately lost my train of thoughts. His cock jumped up, bumping against his belly when he straightened himself up. The sight of his length bare and twitching made my core throb. I knew he could see what he did to me when his grin returned and he stroke himself for me.

Jimin opened his eyes to the sound of my soft moan, locking his gaze on mine, giving me his devastating half-smile when he saw me reacting to the sight of him touching himself. He reached over to grab a condom from his pocket, deftly tearing the foil open and swiftly slipping it on before coming back to me.

He leaned over me, stretching his body over mine, and my mind went blank for a moment before I blinked and realised that it was truly happening. His arousal that was pressing hot against my belly became proof that this was real. That he was real.

“You have no idea how beautiful you look, lying naked under me,” he softly whispered, brushing his mouth over my cheek, my jaw, then coming back onto my lips. “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I want you, Jimin. I want this,” I practically begged him, whining when he pulled back and his lips left my skin.

I’ve wanted this for so long. The words rang inside my head, but I bit my lips to stop myself from saying it out loud. But he must have seen something in my eyes that was telling him just how much I meant every word I said, because I felt it when he finally let go every bit of his inhibitions, and something else grew in his gaze.

Looking deep into my eyes, Jimin made me a promise that had me almost crying. “I’ll be careful. And do things gently so I won’t hurt you.”

Blinking the tears away, I reached out to cup his face. “I’m not made of glass, Jimin.”

He smiled, looking both sad and relieved when he sighed and whispered, “I know you’re not.”

Jimin kissed me again, taking it slowly and gently this time. Then he was pressing into me, his hand reaching between us to guide himself at the center of my heat. He kept whispering my name as he slowly pushed in, spreading me apart as he slid deeper, stopping briefly to kiss my lips to distract me right before he suddenly gave a little push, filling me up entirely with his girth. It was shocking and painful and amazing at the same time that I couldn’t even make a sound. The only thing that came out of my lips was a breathless cry, and my body arched towards him instead of moving away. Soothing me from the shock, Jimin began kissing my neck, my breasts, my mouth, until I finally began to relax and the pain began to fade. I felt full and hyperaware of his existence inside. The thought of our bodies joining together made me clench around him tightly. As if my body wanted to keep him there.

“How are you doing?” he asked me, his voice sounded strained as he held very still on top of me, afraid to move and to hurt me by moving too soon.

But I was no longer hurting.

As the pulsing pain began to form into something else entirely new, something else that felt wonderful, I gave him a reassuring smile to stop him from worrying. “I’m okay. You can continue now.”

My answer made him chuckle, then he exhaled softly before beginning to shift. His hands were pressing onto the bed, then one moved to my hips to hold me as he began pulling out, pushing back inside, moving steadily slow at first before the muscles inside my walls allowed him to move more easily.

“You feel so good, ______. So fucking good around me,” he grunted, and his pace began to pick up.

With each drag of his hardness inside me, the pleasure mounted gradually. A throbbing, maddening pulse began to rise from the depth of my core, rising along with the pressure coiling around my middle, sending me breathless, my brain was muddled as it was thrust into a certain height of bliss.

As my body adjusted and I was slowly getting used to the rising rush of pleasure, my hips were lifted against him and I clutched at his back, drawing him deeper inside.

“Fucking hell, _______,” he cursed as I clenched, gritting his teeth before he increased his pace, pumping his cock in and out of me more frantically until my head spin and his body grew tight against me.

He was close, I could feel it. Just as I was coming close to my own end.

Kissing me again, Jimin tried to make it last by kissing my nipples, my neck, taking my mouth again to swallow the moans that I didn’t even realise I was making. I must have been calling for his name in the midst of crying in pleasure because I could feel him smiling into the kiss.

“You drive me fucking crazy, _____,” he whispered against my mouth while continuing to work on his hips, pounding gently into me even though his pace had grown more rapidly than it did before. “I don’t know how long I could last. You’re so tight around me.”

“I—I think I’m close. Come together with me, Jimin.”

He thrust his cock inside me again and again, every time he came back it felt better than the last when the tip of his shaft pushed through my walls until he reached so deep, right the hilt. Jimin let out a moan and rolled his hips while I continued to move mine, chasing him and chasing our release together.

He rocked inside me, going as deep as he could reach until I cried out his name. I clenched tight around his cock and he pounded straight into me, hitting all the right spots, sending me jolts of pleasure with each thrust which then became my undoing.

Sparks came shooting up from my core just as he began twitching between my clenching walls. The feeling of him quaking inside me set me on fire. The flame of my pleasure burning me deep inside before I finally plunged over the edge. My orgasm must have triggered his own to come, as the moment I cried out his name with each intense pulse of my climax, he erupted inside me and into the condom with a deep groan, a soft whimper following behind as the spasms of his release rocked him to the core.

It took a while until the waves of my climax began to come down into smaller spasms. It took his soft touches and his gentle kisses to bring me back, to help me open my eyes until I saw him. Somehow, I must have blacked out. Because he was already lying on my side, his heartbeat still rapid as I rested my head on his chest, while my own body was still humming with the remnants of my climax.

“Are you okay, baby?”

I closed my eyes, refusing to let my tear drop when the first thing he did after our first lovemaking was to make sure that I was doing alright. Sighing contently, I looked up to his face and gave him a smile.

“That was amazing,” I whispered to him, pressing my lips on his bare chest while pressing my body tightly against him, just so I could feel his warmth around me.

I felt his lips brushing against my temple. “I didn’t hurt you?” he asked me as he tilted my chin up, making me return his gaze.

“No, it felt so good.” I swallowed deeply, making sure that my voice would stay steady when I said the words that had been hanging right at the tip of my tongue ever since the moment he claimed me. “I love you, Jimin.”

He sighed deeply. “I love you too, _____,” he whispered. Then he kissed my lips, gently, before finally letting me go once he realised just how exhausted I was. “Go to sleep, _____. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he promised me, kissing my face as he bid me goodnight and started pulling the blanket to cover our bodies, still naked and entangled on his massive bed.

With my body growing lax, the exhaustion engulfed me like a tidal wave and I began to slip away into slumber with his arms around me. Too tired to even say goodnight to him, I kissed his palm when he ran his fingers through my hair. The last thing I felt was his lips pressing gently on the top of my head. I barely heard his voice, already falling into my dreamless sleep when he faintly whispered to me—

“I’ve waited for you and for this moment for a long time.”

—First life. St. Vincent’s Hospital, year 2027—

“Are you sure you will be okay with this?”

I tilted my head as I waited for his answer. Jimin merely gave me a meek smile, his eyes were drooping lazily as he returned my gaze. Funny how the situation had turned around. When only a few weeks ago, he was the one who first came into my room, asking for my permission to join me in my bed. Tonight, I was the one waiting for him to invite me in, while he was the one who needed the companion.

“I’m sure,” he whispered softly with his voice sounding low and hoarse, as if he needed everything in him just to get those words out of his lips. “In fact, I’m sure you will only make it better,” he chuckled lightly as he patted the side of the bed.

I looked away, following his dainty hand, thin and sickly pale that it almost matched the colour of his linen sheets. The sight nearly broke me down that I had to close my eyes before I could look into his eyes again. Just as our gazes met, he must have seen the hesitance building up inside me, because he slowly began to shift on the bed and scoot backwards, leaving a small space beside him just enough for me to squeeze in.

His movement was careful, doing his best to shift around under the restraint of the infusion tubes attached to his arm. Settling on his side as he waited for me to climb on top of the bed, I could hear him breathing heavily, letting me know just how much that subtle move had already drained enough of his energy.

“Come here,” he said, patting the empty side of the bed once again to beckon me close. “Don’t worry, they change the sheets every time they have a chance to.”

I gave him a light scoff, chuckling softly on his effort to make a light joke. As if I had to be reminded of the hospital’s routines when I had to endure and witness all the same thing as well. Jimin’s eyes kept forcing themselves to close, yet he was persistent, holding back from dozing off just to make sure he would see me come to bed with him. So I gave in. With a sigh, I set up the IV stand that I had dragged along with me all the way from my room to be next to his bed, before I crawled on top of it. It was a struggle to climb up, as I had to maneuver everything from locking my wheelchair in place, to pushing myself up and onto the bed. My flimsy pyjamas kept getting in the way while my stiff back made it hard for me to move easily. I was glad to have taken enough painkillers to numb down the pain, even if it was just a tad, or else I wouldn’t even be able to move at all with how strained my spine had become for the past few weeks.

“Be careful,” Jimin whispered when I let out a hiss the moment I pulled my legs up. I responded only with a smile and a soft murmur of, “I’m okay,” as I held back the pain and settled down beside him, trying not to make him too worried about me when he already had too much to deal with in his current condition. It took me a while, with careful shifts and turns, before I finally managed to lie down next to him.

As we laid on our sides, facing each other with our hands entangled together, I let myself get lost in his eyes while he kept his gaze locked on me. For a moment, everything else around us seemed to disappear, just like how it always had been whenever we held on to each other like this. Every painful moment of our battles against our demons, the illness that was eating up our souls from within, seemed so far away. His painful treatments and therapies, the forthcoming life-threatening surgery I was set to deal with within the next few weeks, all seemed irrelevant.

All the fright and pain seemed insignificant compared to his warmth and comforting touch, but I still held his hand tightly in mine, afraid that he may disappear once I let go.

Being in this hospital for a long time, everything around us had become redundant. We had somehow gotten used to the scents, the mixture of antiseptics and drugs, all the voices coming from the hallways even as we were asleep at night, and the chill temperature in our rooms that had always felt like ice picking into our skin. Even the pain that we both had to endure became a part of us, expected but never welcomed, as if they would always be there, the eerie reminders of why the both of us had ended up in this place together.

Yet everything became bearable because of Jimin. Because we had each other.

By now, the nurses and doctors no longer found it odd to find us sleeping side by side at night. A few requests had even been made to have us being roomed together to make it easier for us to be with each other, since the night trips down the hallways to each other’s rooms had started to become obstacles that were getting in the way of our recovery.

But every trip, even with its pain and exhaustion, had been worth it. Our nights together had kept us strong. They gave us both hope, something to look forward to.

Even when the days like this one would come, when either one of us would be taken away for our special ’treatments’ and ‘test runs’, before we were returned into our rooms only half of what we were before we had left.

“How was it?” I bit my lip the moment I realised that I was questioning him the one thing I knew he would be most reluctant to talk about. I knew how hard the day had been for him, because I had been there too. Despite my worries, I wasn’t sure if making him relive everything that he had gone through today would be a good idea, but sometimes talking about it helped, which was why it came almost instinctively for me to let him talk about it.

When his gaze was shadowed with disdain, I instantly regretted for even asking. Yet, he quickly smiled, chuckling lightly with his eyes closed before he answered, “It was marvellous. Astounding, joyful, completely relaxing. My whole body feels light, just like air, and now I am as strong as ever.”

The last words he said was accompanied by a bitter chuckle. When he opened his eyes again, they were glowing with unshed tears, and my chest tightened.

“It was that bad, huh?” I could feel my throat tightening, my voice cracked as I held back my tears. I hated what his treatments would do to him. Nobody should wake up early in the morning only to face an entire day of painful procedures. The only reprieve I could have about him getting through them was knowing that these procedures were the ones keeping him alive, giving him more time to fight as they tried their best to find the exact cure to free Jimin from his demons.

“I survived. There is nothing more fun than having people pricking and poking on your skin, and needles being jabbed through your tailbones,” he stopped, his lips twitching as he grimaced in defeat, as if he could still feel everything happening as he was talking about it. “At least I didn’t have to see it when they drew the blood from my be—”

I stopped him from finishing the sentence by pushing myself forward and landing a kiss on his lips. It startled him at first, before he sighed and returned them. Our dry lips meshed together into one in a delicate manner, too afraid to add any more pressure as either of us refused to hurt the other, even if we were desperate for one another.

His smile was present when I pulled back. His gaze softened as he opened his eyes, the pain and anger he felt almost gone when he looked at me. I didn’t move too far away, staying close with my hands on his chest just to feel our bond.

“I’m sorry for asking,” I told him, lowering my eyes to avoid his gaze. The next thing I felt was his chapped lips pressing on my forehead.

“It’s okay. A kiss can always make it better,” he said to me with a grin. My shoulders started to fall with relief, my fingers tracing the collar line of his pyjama top absentmindedly until I grazed his skin, and felt his prominent collarbone under the tip of my fingers.

“Don’t—” he hissed, surprising me enough that I started to pull my hand away with guilt. Except that he caught my hand before I could and kept it there. As I looked up into his eyes, I knew that he was not talking about how he didn’t want me to touch him. I didn’t understand it until he reached out to me, brushing the tear that I didn’t realise have made its presence on my face.

A sob finally escaped me, while he gave me a sad smile as he kissed my knuckles.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t feel sad for me.”

“I’m not—” I sobbed, clutching his hand that was holding mine so desperately. “It’s not that. It’s—”

He raised his eyebrows as he looked at mine, which he later kissed to make my frown go away. I relaxed against him when he kept his lips pressing there, giving me a chance to find my voice again before I could continue to speak. “I feel sorry for both of us.”

Jimin pulled me closer and let me rest my head on his shoulder. He did everything ever so gently, knowing that he would risk pulling the infusion tube that was attached to my forearm if he had tugged me too hastily.

“It will be over soon,” he whispered. I could feel his lips pressing on my thinning hair, his breath falling on my temple. He still had his hand holding mine in one, as the other was rubbing my back. The pyjama top I was wearing suddenly felt too thick on my skin. His touches felt too delicate that they were barely there.

“Soon, there will be no more of these cables, tubes, needles. No more nurses and doctors poking our bodies or running those tests on us. No more nauseating drugs and stale hospital meals. And there will be music around us instead of the sounds of the steady heart monitors we keep hearing from down the halls,” he kept whispering to me in a soothing voice. His body, his touch, his kisses, and his words started to replace the cold temperature in the room as I relaxed further in his hold.

“Soon, we will be sleeping in our comfy bed, in our own bedroom instead of these suffocating hospital rooms. And we will be able to walk and run freely with our heads held high without having to lean on the walls or being pushed on wheelchairs wherever we want to go. Soon, we will be walking out of here, our bodies strong enough, our face less pale, and our hair thickens. And I will be holding your hand as we do so.”

I kept my eyes close as I listened to him, picturing everything in my head until they all felt real. “That does sound nice. Every single one of it,” I told him with a sigh, pressing my cheeks on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. “Where should we go first after we leave here?”

“Hmmm—” his voice was soft with the familiar hum which I loved when he thought about it for a moment. “First, I will take you out on a date. I will make up for all the dates I had promised you and missed. The list is already so long, so I know we won’t be done with each and one of them in one day.”

“Obviously,” I chuckled.

“We can start light. I can take you to a fancy coffee shop. We will find the hippest one in the city, the one that youngsters love to hang out in. Because I know how much you love your panini.”

“Um,” I moan playfully, earning a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. “Yes, I do.”

“And then we could go to the movies. No horror movies, just some of those drama flicks you like most. And then we’ll go shopping, and we could go sightseeing in the city—” he continued. I could clearly see his eyes glazing when I looked up to him, lost in wonder, and it was much better than the usual painful look they usually emitted at the end of his treatments. So I said nothing, opting to listen to his words instead and joined him in imagining us going through every part of his plan.

In our minds, we were healthy. With no restrictions in our bodies to hold us back from walking and running, and laughing together while we were at it, as we were enjoying our lives together just the way we had planned them to.

“What if we run out of places to visit just in the city alone?” I asked him. “Pretty sure we would be bored with going to the malls and the zoos after a while. I’m okay with sitting in the park during our free time and the frequent trips to the coffee shop, but what then?”

“Hmmm,” he hummed, closing his eyes. The wondrous look in his gaze returned when he opened them a little bit later. “I really want to take you to other places, of course. I would love to take you for a whole weekend down the beach.”

“The beach?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “Wouldn’t it be nice? I mean, I love going to the mountains and all, but the beach would be a really good idea after we spend weeks inside these walls without the sun falling on our skin, don’t you think?”

“The warm sun does sound more lovely compared to this,” I answered him while snuggling closer, searching for the warmth that I could barely acquire from my pyjamas and the hospital’s blanket alone. Jimin tightened his arm around me, either knowing that I needed it and also needing to warm himself at the same time.

“We can stroll down the beach, the white sand slipping between our toes. I would chase you down as we run with the waves, probably dunk you into the water once I catch you,” he said, chuckling when I swatted his chest.

“You know I hate wearing wet clothes,” I protested with a pout, making him laugh.

“Who said we’ll be wearing full clothes on?”

I looked up at him with a frown. “What are we wearing then?”

Licking his lips, he looked down to stare at mine. “We’ll be in swimming suits, of course. You’ll be wearing the bikini you once showed me, the yellow pair you wore in your photos from college, and I’d wear a trunk that is just as revealing as yours.”

I started picturing us in the same way he described it. Before I could even stop it, I felt my smile fading, as my own insecurities blanketed me.

“What? What’s wrong?” he lifted my chin gently so that I was staring straight into his eyes. And I realised then that I was mirroring his frown. Although when his face was showing curiosity, mine was giving him something else.

“Nothing,” I whispered.

He shook his head. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I just—” I could only sigh, hating the feeling I was having, dreading the lump that was stuck in my throat. His imagination and his dream were all beautiful. But I was not. “Look at me. I look ugly. I can’t imagine myself wearing those outfits again, revealing myself to you like that. Everything about me has changed so much since I got sick. I could never return to how I was before—”

“Stop saying that. You are beautiful,” Jimin scolded me, stopping me by pressing his thumb on my quivering lips. His eyes were dark, but his voice was soft. And it only got even softer when he spoke, “I don’t care if you will look different, if the bikini won’t fit you anymore. You are beautiful.”

I lost every word that I was going to say, not having a chance to answer him when he leaned in to kiss me, drowning my thoughts and insecurities and replacing them with comfort as he pressed his lips on mine. He never stopped until I stopped crying, until I returned the kiss with my own and stopped with a content sigh. He pulled away with a gentle smile on his face, looking at me just as I mirrored his smile. The terrible, painful thoughts no longer bothered me as much as they did. Not when he was looking at me the way he did. Like I was something special.

But then I began chastising myself for being so vulnerable. This had been such a tough day for Jimin, and I was supposed to be the one comforting him by coming here. Not the other way around. Again, as if he could read my thoughts, he pulled me back to him by tilting my chin up and forcing me to look at him instead of avoiding his eyes and getting too lost in my head.

“Do you want to know what I think about when I picture myself taking you to the beach?” he asked me all so suddenly, and I nodded.

“I do want to know. What do you have in mind?”

Jimin’s lips curled into a sly grin. His glazed eyes filled with mirth as he held my hands, pressing them on his chest when he spoke,

“I want to lay you down on the sand when night comes, hold you close to my chest as we look up at the stars in the sky, the sound of waves running in the background would be the perfect music for our night together. And then I will kiss your lips—” he stopped, leaning down to give me a chaste kiss right on the corner of my lips, “—and your nose.” I laughed softly when he kissed the tip of my nose, teasingly pressing his kiss a bit longer before pulling away so he could continue.

“I will continue kissing you, down to your chin and then to your neck. I will probably lick your collarbones, finding the sensitive parts where they tickle,” he said, grinning wide when I laughed.

“You know which spots they are,” I told him, earning his wide smile in return.

“I do know,” he said. “And I will kiss them all, before I continue lower.”

I raised my eyebrows, curious to listen to his plans even more. “How much lower?”

Jimin bit his lips. His eyes slowly turned away from my face and he looked down between us.

“I will start from your breasts, although I might have to take your top off first,” he said, keeping his eyes on my chest.

A gasp came out of me and I instantly pulled my hands away from him, crossing them over my chest and looked away when my face felt hot. “But—they no longer look the way they used to, and—”

“And perfect for my small, skinny hands,” he cut me off while prying my hands away and held them close to his chest again. He lifted my face with his finger on my chin and said, “They are the softest thing in the world, ____. And I love to admire them. To touch them, to kiss them.”

And he kissed me. Right on my lips, before I ever got a chance to respond. “I remember you being sensitive there,” he whispered, keeping his forehead pressed on mine while his hand brushed gently on my covered breasts from over my pyjama top.

“I’m sensitive everywhere. Whenever you touch me,” I whispered. My heartbeat started racing as I felt his palm kneading my breast softly, moving carefully so he wouldn’t hurt me. His touch made me shudder, and I almost failed to process his words before he moved his hand to my back, pulling me closer to him, while his other hand stayed behind, pinching gently on my hardened nipple until I gasped against his lips. I could barely question how or why this conversation had suddenly led to this, and I could only guess where he was leading this to. I knew because his eyes were telling me all of his intentions as they looked at me with darkness behind their sleepy glow.

“So would you let me touch you then? Without anything getting in the way, I mean. Would you let me kiss you there?” he asked, practically begging me softly with an adorable look on his face that I just had no choice but to nod. Smiling to me to show how my response had pleased him, he leaned in, tracing my jawline with his kisses while he whispered, “I will take my time, taking one peak and lick it, bite you tenderly until I feel the tip of your breast hardening in my lips. And then I will do the same to the other—”

“Jimin—” I gasped. And my body suddenly started heating up all over, from my chest and down to my core. He pressed his lips on my neck, right where I pulsed for him, and I almost came right away just from listening to his words and feeling his gentle kiss alone.

“Are you going to push me away?” he asked me, nipping at the tender skin on my neck when he felt me shuddering against him.

“N-no—” I shifted on the bed, moving my legs and started pressing them together to tone down the intense pulse rising inside my core.

“Good, because then I can continue kissing you,” he whispered, pressing his lips on mine before he pulled me in until our chests were pressing each other. “I will kiss every part of your skin until you arch your chest, pressing your body to me. Then I will continue lower, kissing down your stomach, licking around your navel until you reach down to pull my hair. Just don’t pull me too hard, I might lose the hair that I have grown by then.”

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing. Appalled to how he could still throw a little joke in the middle of his sweet yet sinful talk. “Stop, you’re being silly.”

“You love me being silly,” he immediately responded. His lips turned to a smirk when I glanced up, making me want to kiss it away. But he had my body pressing close to his, making it hard for me to reach up. All I could reach was his neck, and that was where I let my lips rest, making him chuckle before he grunted softly when I nipped at his skin playfully in return just before he continued to whisper, “And I bet you will stop thinking that I am being silly once I reach your bikini bottom and start lowering them down your legs.”

I hid my face on the nape of his neck as I groaned desperately, the heat between my legs making its appearance once more. But I didn’t stop him.

“I will shift between your legs, never stop kissing you until I am there—licking, and sucking, and drinking every drop of your release until you scream my name.”

“Oh, Jimin,” I gasped. My body reacted before my mind could even process it. I was pressing my whole body onto him, my legs rubbing each other in desperate need to press the intense throbbing that was happening between them.

“Would you like that?” he whispered, sounding breathless when he spoke to me. His own desire was coating his words and I felt him trembling against me.

“Hmm—” I sighed, not even minding that he had one of his legs slipping between mine and I was practically grinding on his thigh. “Yeah, I would like that a lot.”

Jimin fell silent for a moment. But I could feel his eyes on me, studying my face while I had my eyes closed, embracing the warmth that was throbbing inside me, started deep within my core before it began to spread all over my body. I hummed softly as I was enjoying the warmth coming out of his body, when I focused on his thigh that was pressing down the heat between my legs. I waited until my heartbeat steadied and opened my eyes.

“Do you think I would stop there?” he asked, smiling gently as he watched me slowly falling apart.

“Oh? You won’t?”

“No, that’s just the beginning, my love,” he shook his head, pressing his thigh harder onto my heat. The pressure hit right where I needed him and I instantly started grinding against it while his words came flowing as if he was guiding me into making love to his body. And I complied with my eyes closed, my body dancing through his words, my hips kept swivelling with the same rhythm of his heartbeat under my palms.

“Once you come down from your climax, I will lift your legs, open them apart so I can move between them. I’ll keep touching your skin and kissing all over your body while I crawl on top of you. I won’t stop kissing you, and I will only look into your eyes when I make love to you under the stars and the moonlight. The sky and the universe as our witness. You will keep your eyes on the night sky, at the bright stars lighting us from above when I am deep inside you, filling you up until all you could see is more stars. I will bring you pleasure, the kind that you had never felt before, until your body explodes to another climax while you are in my hands.”

And that was it.

His words pushed me right into the edge, my hips moving voluntarily as I pictured him making love to me, his hands strumming my whole body the way his words did it to me. With each throb of need, I pressed my hips down, pressing myself harder onto his thigh while my hips rubbed against his covered hard-on. We moved together as I continued to swivel, rolling my hips against his body, thrusting my pulsing heat against his thigh, chasing my end. His voice started fading out when my whole body shuddered, the rush of pleasure came climbing up steadily until it reached to the peak, and I came apart with his arms around me. I kept whimpering his name, gasping for breath in between as the electric waves of bliss came coursing through my body. He never let go of me as he kept whispering to me sweet nothings, kissing my face gently until I was coming down from my high and I started to calm down.

“That was—” I gasped, when a few small spasms of my orgasm ran through me with his hands rubbing on my back. I gave him a smile which he returned with his own. “All of it, it all sounded beautiful.” I licked my lips, and let out a soft chuckle. “And completely unsanitary.”

Jimin laughed, sounding delighted and relieved. And then he kissed me, as gentle as he possibly could, yet still deep and intense. It felt like giving me my release had him letting go of his own apprehension. I was beginning to dread the fact that he had pleasured me while I failed to help him reach his end, until I felt his soaked pants and saw the dark stain forming between his legs that had proven otherwise. I was breathing a sigh of relief when he tilted my face up again.

“Will you do it with me one day? Run away to a place where we could be alone, together, just the two of us? Make love to me under the stars?” he asked me while looking deep into my eyes.

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” I answered him without ever looking away so he could see that I meant what I said. “You know that I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you, Jimin.”

Jimin’s eyes widened for a brief moment. I could see through them glints of happiness, hope, and joy, before they all disappeared in a blink and he was breaking down in front of me again. He pulled me into a deep hug, just when I felt myself breaking down with him. Neither of us could allow ourselves to pull away, to see the unspoken truth that lingered between us, that was shown through our eyes when they finally met each other again.

And then, as he gently pressed his lips on the top of my head, I felt him smiling through his tears.

“Everything will be okay,” he whispered. It was never clear whether he was trying to convince himself or to calm me down, but I took it all in, allowing the hope that was coating his sentence to reside in my chest.

“We’re going to be okay,” I said then, as I kept breaking down silently with tears.

“Yes, we are.” He kissed my forehead, repeating the words over and over again until his voice started to sound heavy with sleep. A sign that his medicine had finally taken effect on him. That our little tryst was enough to make him feel a bit more relaxed than he was before.

“Go to sleep, Jimin,” I told him as I wrapped my arms around him, feeling myself being dragged into the darkest of night at the same time, when my own body started to give in to sleep. I was halfway into my dreams when I heard his voice speaking softly to me,

“Thank you, ______. Good night.”

That night, I dreamt of us making love under the stars.

The ground and the plateau around us became nothing else but a blanket of darkness, overshadowed by the bright night sky above. Nothing else mattered but us, together, joined as one. Everything else became insignificant when all I could see, and feel, was him. And I could never look away from him as he made love to me, making me whole again while he brought me pleasure. Nothing else could make me look away, for he was the most beautiful star in my eyes, and he was the only one who could mend every piece of my broken soul until I was completed once again.

256 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 years

Text

Of Thieves and Queens of Hearts (B.B.)

Type: Reader-insert , SEQUEL TO Of Jewels and Gems

Word count: 2860

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Medieval AU with thief!Bucky and princess!reader.

You and Bucky ‘meet’ again - is it fate or something more? And what should you do now, when you crossed paths again?

Warnings: mention of arranged marriage and blood, tears and stuff, angst and fluff

A/N: There were quite a few people who asked about a sequel and since the prompts was ‘I snuck in the castle to steal the royal crown but I’m stealing you instead au’, it only felt right to write this 😊

Of Jewels and Gems (previous part)

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Your mind was wandering, gone to a faraway land, far from the present moment for you were not particularly fond of the present.

The bumps on the road didn’t cease to shake the carriage for long moments now, gravel crunching under the wheels and hoofs, the cracking, occasional snorting of the horses, and your own breathing the only sounds keeping you company.

You had forgone interest in the landscape a long time ago, not bothering to revel at the scenery of the lands despite the curtains being open, and while no fabric was shielding the interior of the carriage from the outside light, with the sun slowly setting down, you were engulfed in a comforting gloom.

Too lost to your musings about the future, you missed the shadow lurking around your carriage – until a figure jumped right in through the modest window, causing a yelp gather in your throat in fright.

Before you could release a single sound to alert the coachman and the two guards riding in front of your vehicle, a warm calloused palm covered your mouth, muffling your scream.

All too familiar silver-blue irises twinkled even in the half-lit space, space that suddenly felt cramped.

Your sounds of protest died in your chest, where your heart had challenged your carriage to a duel in speed, beating faster than the hoofs of the horses carrying you towards your fate – whether the fright or the excitement was to blame, you weren’t able to tell.

You stared into the face of a cheeky man you hadn’t seen for almost six months and strangely a man whom you found yourself missing.

His palm reluctantly retreated, smug smile spreading the precious ruby lips as if wishing to irk you right from the beginning – as if the fact alone that he had assaulted you in your allegedly safe space wasn’t outrageous enough.

“Hi, Princess,” Winter said lowly, eyes roaming all over you face, observant and somewhat content.

Your fingers gripped at your skirts as his head appeared to be in scandalous proximity of yours – tempting proximity, but you couldn’t even dare to think that, let alone say it out loud. The interior suddenly felt too hot.

“What in Heavens are you doing here?” you demanded in hushed voice, torn between exasperated and… pleased. There was a strange warmth blooming in your chest and you couldn’t even begin to examine where it had come from.

“Told ya’ I’ll be back for the real jewel,” he smirked, the startlingly red lips peeking from under his beard.

‘Next time… I’m stealin’ the real crown jewel, Your Highness,’ echoed in your ears, an old promise he had given you right before… right before his lips had caressed your cheek.

Daring bastard!

And again, here he was, cheeky as ever, as if nothing could hurt him, free as a bird he could never be caged, only here to tempt you and mock you, no doubt about to tease you about your future.

“How—how dare you! Leave, now!”

His lips pursed, an adorable pout twisting it, eyes turning to ones of a child who just realized their parents didn’t bring any presents from their travels.

“Why?”

Why?

As if an explanation was needed! As if his mere presence in your carriage wasn’t a great offence! As if—as if he hadn’t played with your heart, made a promise and suddenly been in the wind!

“You- you’re a thief and a- a player and-and an outlaw-!” you hissed, managing to stutter marvellously in your indignation. “And I cannot be seen with another man in such close quarters to begin with for I am to be wed soon!”

The corner of Winter’s lips turned downward, his expression clouding further and all of sudden, you felt like the sunset truly had started, stealing all light from the world, and the warmth in your chest seemed to burn cold.

Why were you sad because of this man’s obvious sulking? What he was supposed to be to you, but a confusing memory? What was he even doing here with you?

“Yeah, I heard. I betcha’re all happy ‘bout it,” he noted with generous amount of sarcasm, causing your heart to skip a beat while his eyes never ceased to observe you, as if your face was an open book for him to read.

You attempted to fix your features to ones of a future queen and wife-to-be you were. A responsible crown princess, caring for the good of her people – for that was who you were and should you wed a man twice almost three times you age for it… so be it.

“What—eh- of course I am.”

A woman who was to become a queen one day was meant to be pampered, provided excellent education in both the world’s knowledge and manners and raised outside the filthiness of common people; however, there were always to be cracks in the foundation, little slips, little words you should not know but you did.

‘Bullshit’ was one of those words, as both as a noun and a verb.

The way Winter was watching you at the moment told you with startling obviousness that he thought you were bullshitting him.

So you stuck out your chin in defiance, hoping to sound convincing – to Winter, to yourself. Perhaps should you say it over and over, you shall believe it.

“I am happy to marry King Ronan should it bring together our kingdoms.”

“Mm,” the handsome thief hummed doubtfully, lightly shaking his head, causing the short loose ponytail he wore swing. “Don’t believe ya’. I think ‘dat if I told ya’ ya’ can run with me right now, you’d come.”

Heat rose to your cheeks in shame for he was horribly close to the truth. To cover your shame, you chuckled affectively as if he said the most ridiculous thing you had ever heard in your life. “Aren’t you a funny man!”

His eyebrows rose, losing themselves in his hairline for a moment. “I prefer handsome, but I guess ‘dat’ll do too. So… ya’ comin’?”

All you managed was to stutter an incomprehensible streak of words.

“’dat a yes?” he questioned with a smile, just a fraction shy and very much teasing.

You crossed your arms on your chest and looked away from the beautiful face that was somehow still mere inches from yours – unable to bear the gaze that seemed to burning through your very being and staring right into your soul and seeing the truth you were trying to hide.

You had to marry King Ronan. That was your duty as a crown princess, to bring peace and wealth to your kingdom, even if you should suffer in an unhappy marriage. People did not enter such holy union for love and attraction – no, marriage was a thought-through act of diplomacy.

Who should care for your well-being? Staying alive and serving your people was the truest and greatest reward you could earn.

Of course, you could not say that to Winter, who for whichever reasons refused to leave the topic alone and decided to create your personal hell by tempting you, attempting to lead you astray.

“Why should I, the princess, want to escape with you?” you scoffed defensively and he backed out, leaning to the opposite side of the carriage so swiftly as if he had been burned.

And then he pursed his lips again; but his gaze turned serious, no traces of the previous jests.

“’Cause I can keep ya’ safe and you’ll escape the possibility of dying at your future husband’s hand. Word’s goin’ ‘round… ‘dat he beat his first wife to death. Cheats and kills. Scumbag of a man, really-“

You chuckled bitterly, eyeing him from head to toe sceptically to put out the fire of fear lit inside your belly. He spoke the truth – these were the tales spread about the King all over the Seven Kingdoms and try as you might, you could not pretend to be that brave. Yet, you could not allow yourself a moment of weakness and display such – you were a future queen.

“And I should believe that you are any better? You’re a thi-“

“-thief, yeah, yeah, I didn’t forget ‘bout ‘dat, doll,” he interrupted rudely; nonetheless, a true concern casted shadows over his eyes, forming a worried crease between his brows. “But when I heard ‘bout the marriage… with him, I had to come runnin’ for ya’. I can’t stand the thought of ya’ getting’ hurt or worse.”

A sudden lump grew in your throat as you found yourself taken aback by his care – and moved. He was no one but a stranger and yet, not even your father had expressed such concern for your well-being when you had been leaving the castle with an enormous chest in the back of the carriage, hiding your multiple possessions.

Tears burned in your eyes and you fought to keep them at bay and find your voice, charming a gentle smile for the handsome thief who seemed to steal another piece of your heart by the minute.

“A sweet sentiment that might be, however unacceptable.”

He leaned forward again, gently taking a hold of your hands, engulfing them in his calloused and yet soft ones entirely. A unvoluntary pleasant shiver ran up your spine at the intimate gesture.

“Why?” he questioned quietly, gaze hopeful and shining with honesty, perhaps with a drop of mischief. “Ya’ like me too, I can tell.”

Laughter erupted from your throat and you had to quickly slip one hand from his to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears sprung from your eyes at last, a blend of humour and grief.

“You must be the cheekiest man I have ever met!” you whispered, shaking your head.

He truly was. He was also one of the kindest and most handsome ones – and the only one your heart ever beat for.

“Thanks, doll. But really… come with me,” he pleaded with urgency you would not have expected, let alone from a man you had barely spent few moments with. “Should I get on my knees and beg? I’ll beg-“

He released your hand and went to fall on his knees indeed, not wary at all of the limited space of the carriage.

On instinct, you swiftly grabbed his arm in hopes to keep him in place with a panicked ‘no!’ on your lips.

You shook your head again, this time soberly, when he tenderly manipulated your hand on him to bring it to his lips, gracing the back of it with a brief kiss.

It was an difficult task to attempt to resist his charm, one worth of a future queen, nearly impossible – you could have swoon right at the moment, no doubt ending up in his protective arms should you lose your balance.

Nevertheless, you must have remained rational about this.

“I cannot escape. Even if we could manage such daring thing, we would never be safe. We would have only prolonged the inevitable and the punishment-” your breath hitched as you were staring into the gentle orbits of his, still watching you intently, ”-punishment for you and for my insolence would be great.”

The corners of his lips raised in a minute smile as if you weren’t talking about the inevitable deaths that awaited you both should you take him upon his suggestion.

“Ya’ worried ‘bout me, doll?”

You supposed he took notice of your exasperated look, however he chose to ignore it and smiled wider, causing you to chuckle through your tears.

He surely was insane— and yet, here you were, nodding minutely, confirming your concern for him for you wished that his smile lightened the carriage further… and that it did.

“Don’t. I have a safe place to come back to, always.”

You felt your eyebrow jump in surprise, genuinely taken a back. Was he pulling your leg now?

“Oh, do you, Winter?”

He frowned and nuzzled the back of your hand.

“It’s Bucky,” he mumbled.

For all your astonishment on learning his true name, you still couldn’t resist caressing his face; his whiskers felt softer than you had expected and you hadn’t anticipated his eyes to flutter shut, a sound resembling a purr vibrating in his chest.

“Suits you better,” you smiled sadly, still in battle which you were slowly losing as Bucky seemed to be prepared to convince you no matter the cost. His kindness and faith had your heart swell in your chest, however—you couldn’t. Could you? No. No the risks were too high and you had a duty to fulfil. “I wish you a long good life, Bucky.”

“Ya’ could live it with me. Please? I promise, I- uhm, King Steven of Brooklin owes me a favour.”

“King Steven of Brooklin?” you repeated, turning entirely sceptical. Now he truly was only spinning a tale. “You certainly are funny.”

“Mock me all ya’ want, Jewel mine,” he shrugged and kissed your palm for a good measure, as if he hadn’t had your heart stuttering constantly already. “But he does. I was able to help his beloved escape from the clutches of HYDRA.”

“Wh-is-- is that so?”

You had heard rumours – of a mysterious man aiding the future queen of Brooklin, of a spy within the HYDRA castle’s wall perhaps – nonetheless, not even in your wildest dreams you would dare to imagine Bucky was the fabled one.

“Yeah. I saw a miserable to-be queen Margaret and helped her run,” Winter—Bucky shrugged nonchalantly again, dismissing the heroic act. “We met the king in the near woods, he was gettin’ all ‘let’s cut off some heads’ to free her. It was kinda funny actually, when he found out who I was.”

It sounded like he spoke the true… however, you couldn’t seem to shush the suspicious voice in your head, challenging you to ask further questions.

“…what could have you been doing at such place to begin with?”

Cocky. His smile and the raise to his brows only could be described as cocky.

“Ya’ keep sayin’ ‘dat I’m a thief, so…. Ya’ tell me.”

Of course. Of course, naturally. He had snuck in to steal.

Your lips pressed into a thin line upon that realization – nevertheless, you couldn’t force yourself to be mad at him for his nature. After all, it appeared that there was much more to learn about him and it couldn’t all be bad if what he had revealed so far was anything to go by. And who were you to judge, yourself born into privilege?

If anything, he clearly could have been responsible for a woman being alive – and you had never heard about a heist that would end with a single man dead whenever the gossipers whispered about Winter and his visits to the royal treasuries.

And yet, doubts were still playing with your head, rightfully so.

“And I should simply trust you that King Steven, a man famed for his good heart and ultimate belief in justice, approves of your choice of livelihood?” you couldn’t but ask.

“He tolerates it. He knows I steal from the richest and some of it goes to the poorest.”

…oh.

“It… it does?” you stuttered, almost embarrassed at your loss of composure.

Bucky, the infamous thief was doing an excellent work again, claiming your heart altogether. You had simply believed that he was an outlaw, a thug, a thief, a molester maybe—but how could you hope to resist his charms upon learning this?

He had been helping the poor? Such action surely was more than you had ever done… perhaps he was a better person that you could ever-

“Yeah,” he confirmed with a grin, cocking his head to side, visibly content that he impressed you. For once, you couldn’t argue with him for you truly were enamoured with his kindness. “But from now on, I can only take for you. For us. To give ya’ all stuff ya’ deserve, Jewel. Just say the word. Come with me.”

The silence sounded deafening to your ears and Bucky appeared to feel the need to fill it with grasping your hands gently, once again gracing them with reverential kisses. The affection chased more tears into your eyes as you tried to breathe through them and not let them escape anymore… failing.

Yes, the silence was deafening, felt suffocating and heavy on your chest, but you could feel like you were able to breathe again when a calloused fingertip wiped at your tears with tenderness.

You wondered… could he hear the last of your resolve not to be selfish crumble to the ground?

“Do you��” you whispered, voice unladylike hoarse due to the lump in your throat, “…do you truly believe that we would find refuge in Brooklin?”

The proclaimed topazes of his eyes glimmered with their silver lining, ruby lips you had fallen in love with spreading in a genuine wide smile as he nodded, delighted.

“Yeah. I do. Do ya’ trust me?”

“Gods help me, I do…” you sighed, giddiness battling with nerves as you smiled back at him. “Very well, Bucky, Winter the thief. Let’s run away to Brooklin.”

And for all you had thought his face was precious as all the jewels and gemstones of your kingdom, it was the smile he graced you with upon your yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that you found worth the world’s greatest fortune.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

B.B. masterlist (…yes, it’s that short)

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Ugh. Not as cheeky as the previous one, but hopefully the sweetness made up for it :-*

Thank you for reading and special thanks to you, who encouraged me to write this sequel ♥ I’m glad I did ;)

176 notes · View notes

what-big-teeth · 4 years

Text

Soothe (Male Naga ; Fic Raffle)

A quick re-upload of this fic requested by @gothglamonenightstand featuring a Black female reader and a male naga. A slight misunderstanding leads to more and a happy ending. Hope you enjoy!

tw: animal attack, animal death

Female Reader (POV) x Male Naga The cottage is everything you dreamed of.

It’s cozy with two floors, but not overly spacious with a welcoming guest room. Its clean hearth is large enough to warm the whole house during the heavy winters. But for now, during these mid-summer months, you’ll be drawn to the window of the master bedroom, which showcases a spectacular view of the forest just beyond the property’s edge.

Your new home is a wonder, one that was purchased with little coin per the last owner’s request. This, and the kindness of the elderly Mr. Adley, is why you’re more than happy to accommodate him until his son returns from the village to shepherd the older man to his new home.

“I’m glad everything’s to your liking, my dear. I was somewhat worried when you first arrived to see what this old shell had to offer.”

You tuck a thick lock of curly, black hair behind your brown ear with a smile and pour him another cup of soothing chamomile tea, finishing it with a dollop of honey.

“You had nothing to worry about, sir. This place is lovely and has a charm all its own. It carries the feeling of home all throughout.”

Mr. Adley chuckles, his wizened, light brown hand lifting his handcrafted cup with a slight tremble.

“Then may I also suggest the pathway from the back garden into the forest? I used the walk to clear my head and relax when life became overwhelming. I hope it can offer you the same if you need a reprieve from your apprenticeship.”

You respond with a brief smile then hide your growing frown behind your teacup.

The fact you were chosen as Madam Irene Bastien’s apprentice was a miracle all its own. Known for her reticence as much as her natural genius, people from far and wide sought her out for the chance to glean any knowledge from her. But every time, she rejected all potential students. Word of her refusals spread far and wide to the point that the number of hopeful potentials gathering at her manor dwindled to nothing.

You had heard the stories about the elusive apothecary and hearing was more than enough.You were comfortable in your little hometown, aiding your mother with selling her wares at the market. But a chance encounter in late spring with a carefully disguised Madam changed your life forever.

You had merely suggested to her a list of ingredients for a healing tonic and accompanied her around the market, helping her find the items. All without realizing that you helping out a supposed ‘visitor’ was a secret test of sorts. That very night, Madam Bastien revealed her true identity after finding your home and offered you an apprenticeship.

You’re still not yet sure what she sees in you, a mere beginner apothecary. But your family refused to let such a wonderful opportunity pass by. With their blessing, you gathered your belongings and made the three day move to the outskirts of the country’s capital, promising to never let doubt make you look back.

“Miss?”

You startle, your forearm bumping into the half-filled metal kettle beside you. Thankfully, the water inside has cooled to a lukewarm temperature.

“Sorry,” you say, “I got lost in my thoughts.”

“That’s alright, dear. A lot has happened today.”

Thankful for Mr. Adley’s kindness, you actively listen to his stories about how he built the cottage as a gift to his late wife. How his son grew up here as a rambunctious child. How so many friends and visitors from the capital would stop by during the yearly equinox festivals.

When his son arrives, you happily help him gather Mr. Adley’s belongings and place them beside the wagon to be packed. A few hours later, as you bid the men goodbye with a wave, a sense of warm contentment settles over you. You hope to run into Mr. Adley again one day, to share another cup of tea and to hear more of his stories.

But for now, there’s unpacking to be done.

First your clothing, which was packed by your mother in a sturdy trunk. Then, the wooden statuettes carved by your father. The bed linens, pillows, blankets, and your other personal belongings. Once everything is secured in its proper place, you light the hearth and reheat the stew cooked for you by Mr. Adley’s son.

Your stomach full, you think about the path Mr. Adley mentioned, wanting to at least see it before night fell. But no such luck.

“Ah well,” you murmur to yourself. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Your stomach full, you heat up some water drawn from the backyard well and scrub the day’s accumulated dirt from your body. Dressed in a long gown and with a silent yawn, you climb the stairs to retire to your bedroom.

Tomorrow will be a busy day and you can’t afford any lethargy. Safely tucked in bed, you close your eyes and drift to sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------

The horse-drawn coach hits a slight bump on the gravel road, rocking you and your filled satchel. You had asked to sit up front beside the driver when he first arrived in the early morning. Mainly to talk and to calm your addled nerves.

Unfortunately, he declined, stating that he had strict orders from Madam Bastien to keep his distance. His words saddened you somewhat, but you complied, not wanting to threaten his standing with the Madam.

One drive past the capital’s city gates on the cobblestoned road and into the business district, the coach arrives at the Madam’s workshop. It’s small but sturdy, a much more humble place than the manor she’s known to live in. Once the coach slows to a stop, you gather your satchel and climb out.

A woman with deep skin the color of a starless, night sky stands before the workshop’s door. Her gaze is stalwart as she watches your approach, her hands tucked behind her back. Once you’re close enough, she gives you a warm smile that stretches the crow’s feet gathered at the corner of her eyes.

“Welcome,” she says. “Have you already had breakfast?”

The cheerful manner in which she greets you is nothing like how she first met you. You swiftly remember your manners and reply before she can attribute your silence to rudeness.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then the bread and pastries inside will serve as a later brunch.”

Madam Bastien turns around, her long, gray beaded braids shifting against her back. She opens the door with a wrinkled hand and glances at you with a sharp, deep brown gaze.

“Let’s get started,” she says. “We have much to cover.”

And cover much you did. The pages of your new journal were soon stained with notes detailing a variety of topics. Types of animal fats, herbs, plants. Which salves, tinctures, and ointments work best. Potions for pain, conception, and contraceptive measures. The apothecaries’ system for measurement.

She then has you mix together a common tincture after you memorize the ingredient list. The first time, the mix isn’t properly done. Not enough potency. How she can tell just by the scent alone is astounding. So you try again. And again. And again, until finally, you get it right.

By the time brunch rolls around, a number of failed tinctures sit on the table before you and your journal is halfway filled. You’ll have to purchase another before the next lesson.

“I think a break is needed,” Madam Bastien says. “You must be getting hungry.”

You’re about to politely refute her claim, but your empty stomach answers in reply, refusing to be ignored. With a chuckle, Madam Bastien stokes a fire in her hearth and uses the heat to warm up the chilled bread and pastries. They go wonderfully well with some tea and herbed butter, as you soon learn. You happily eat your fill, humming at the mesh of flavors coating your tongue. Madam Bastien, however, sits across from you and takes the time to flip through your journal. She nods as she reads along, smiling.

“I was right,” she says. “You’ll be a wonderful choice for the position of Royal Apothecary once I retire.”

Your fork clatters against your plate.

“W-what?” Madam Bastien simply picks up a pastry and spreads a little butter onto the flakey crust.

“Word got out about my imminent retirement, no doubt thanks to those damned gossips at Court. That’s why so many would-be apprentices swarmed my estate. Of course, I wasn’t going to simply choose some hopeful unknown to take my place as the Royal Family’s apothecary.”

She sips at her cooling tea before continuing.

“I decided to find my apprentice after the throngs died down. So the King allowed me to travel to the smaller pockets of the country while keeping the reason behind my absence a secret.”

“...Which is how you met me.”

She nods.

“A choice, I must say, I’m glad to have made. You show immense potential with your gift yet remain grounded. Both skills will be needed to survive the Royal Court and everything it entails. But that will be years from now.” She taps a loose fist against her opposite shoulder with a chuckle.

“I won’t be going anywhere any time soon. After all, there is still much to teach you. But for now, sate your hunger. Once you’re finished, you can leave for the market then get settled at home. We’ll reconvene tomorrow at the same time.”

You finish your portion, drain your cup of tea, and bid Madam Bastien a good day. The food weighs heavily in your belly and your temples pound as you gather foodstuffs from the large market. You honestly don’t know if you could’ve handled the task without the help of the coach driver. You’re thankful, but know he’s only aiding you due to the Madam’s order. And as before, he keeps to himself on the trip to your cottage.

Your nerves tense and heighten to a peak once you arrive home. The sensation only grows stronger as you place your items in their proper places. Soon enough, you drop down into a chair at the dining table, your fingers tangling and pulling at your hair almost to the point of pain.

You can deal with and adapt to a sudden apprenticeship. But the assured role of Royal Apothecary? That is something you nor your family foresaw. What would they say if they could see you now?

With so many hypotheticals running through your mind, you honestly want to forget Madam Bastien’s words for a short time. Forget that tomorrow is coming and with it, a greater sense of responsibility you never expected.

Your downcast gaze lifts towards the back door as Mr. Adley’s words resound in your mind. With the sun still visible in the sky, you won’t have to worry about nightfall and what it will bring. Now is a good time as any to see what his handmade path has to offer.

You press to your feet and slip outside, closing the door softly with a tight grip. Taking a deep breath, you force your fingers to relax and glance down. Flat, gray stones form a simple trail before your feet, leading towards the forest. Blades of grass stick up in the gaps between each rock, a reminder that nature can easily overtake this area if it so chooses. It’s a charming sight, one that makes taking the first step easy.

Your steady gait slows to a more eased pace as a gathering of clouds blocks the sun’s light. A gentle breeze carrying the raw, earthy scent of the forest brushes against your heated skin. You welcome the sensation with a pleased, quiet sigh and press onward.

There’s nothing but a sea of rolling grass between your cottage and the outskirts of the forest. It’s easy to see why Mr. Adley suggested this, and you’re highly thankful. It’ll be another thing you’ll talk to him about when you see him again. As you near the edge of the forest, your heart starts to sink. Turning around means having to face the reality of your apprenticeship; something you’d rather not do until absolutely necessary.

In a way, your wish is granted. But not through normal means.

Just a stone’s throw, in a sunlit clearing, a large, dark burly shape presses itself further onto the ground. You hear an odd, splashing sound that is soon followed with violent crunching. As the shape shifts, you’re able to see the scene before you with clarity. A massive, black bear tears its maw into the fresh remains of a stag. One that it, without a doubt, took down itself.

You take a silent breath and begin to slowly back away. Something brittle snaps underneath your foot. You freeze. So does the bear up ahead.

Your heart pounds in your chest as it lifts its head, searching for the source of the sound. Its dark eyes bore into yours, grunts emanating from its mouth. With a shrill roar, it barrels towards you, sharp teeth bared. You can’t move, no matter how much you beg your body to act.

All you can do is shut your eyes and hope for a swift end. But there’s no impact.

No sound of a beast eager to tear into you; only the soft whisper of a passing breeze. Carefully and slowly, as you mentally take stock of your intact self, your eyes open.

The bear lies on the ground, nothing more than a motionless heap. The green grass underneath its form is slowly dyed a dark color, a deep red that the sun’s rays catch. But the shade is nothing compared to the ink-black braid belonging to the being calmly extracting their long claws from the carcass. Piercing gold eyes meet yours, framed by rich, brown skin and a full nose bearing a long scar. In fact, the majority of the stranger’s bare torso is littered with old injuries, both small and large. The only part of his body that remains untouched is his black, serpentine tail.

Your legs decide then and there to lose their remaining strength. Your body sinks to the ground, the thick grass taking the brunt of your fall as your lungs cry out for air. You fill them, holding your hands over your throbbing chest.

“Are you alright?”

Your gaze darts up. The naga extends a bloodless, clawed hand towards you; the other he keeps behind his back. Pushing aside your nervousness, you take it and he effortlessly pulls you to your feet. But his grip on your hand remains; perhaps to keep steadying you.

“T-thank you.” Your eyes flit from his claws, which barely touch your skin, to the fallen bear behind him. “I owe you my life.”

He releases his grip on your hand after a few minutes of silence. No doubt after assuring you can stand on your own two feet without aid.

“You must be the new owner of the cottage, then?”

You startle at his words.

“Yes, but how did…”

“The Adleys told me about the upcoming changes weeks ago. I just didn’t expect to meet you so soon...maybe not at all.”

You let out a soft chuckle, not quite aware of where the urge came from. But it acts as a crack in the dam holding back your feelings all the same.

Without warning, everything spills out from your lips. Meeting Madam Bastien, your apprenticeship, the move to the capital from your only home. Your eyes burn and your chest heaves while you speak, but you can’t stop the release. Not until everything is out in the open, including your near-death experience. As your sobs quiet, a cool sensation brushes against your wet cheeks. Your rescuer gives you a soft, understanding smile as he gently wipes away your tears with the back of his claw.

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I must be taking up your time. And I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Anil,” he says. “And honestly? I was debating whether to take a nap in my favorite tree or grab a snack from the river. But I have to say this change in routine is more than welcome.”

His relaxed tone pulls a true laugh from you, which by the look of his own fanged smile, was his goal.

“Much better,” he murmurs.

Somehow, that one comment and your emotional release has you feeling much lighter than before. You’re able to take a deep, calming breath and give him your name. All while returning Anil’s smile. He repeats it, as if committing it to memory. But a part of you wonders why he looks so thrilled to know such a simple thing.

“Thank you again,” you say. “I should head back. I’m expected to meet with Madam Bastien tomorrow morning.”

Anil nods then clears his throat.

“If you’re in need of a willing ear, please feel free to return,” he says. “That is, if you’d like to.”

Your eyes take him in: the way he deftly skims a claw over one of his cheeks while attempting to meet your gaze, but failing to hold it. The sight is endearing and rather sweet.

“I would, as long as I don’t disturb you.” You purse your lips together and decide to take a chance. “In fact, if you’re available tomorrow…”

“I am,” he says, in what you think is an excited tone. But you don’t want to assume.

So you simply smile and bid him a good day, telling him “until tomorrow.”

Anil repeats your words and you two go your separate ways.

------------------------------------------------------------

The following day, Madam Bastien proves to be quite the taskmaster. Your new journal is nearly filled like its predecessor, prompting another visit to the market. And another venture to the forest’s edge.

But this time, you plan to go bearing gifts. At first, you expect to wait at the previous meeting spot until Anil arrives. Instead, you find a guide of sorts without any signs of yesterday’s bear. Makeshift stakes stick up from the tall grass, the tops marked with a vivid red dye. It doesn’t take long for your curiosity to get the better of you.

You follow the marked path to a larger clearing where a massive tree towers overhead. Dappled sunlight shines through the gaps of the leaves and on a familiar, dozing naga. Anil is cradled among the thick yet lower branches of the tree. His dark tail is coiled underneath his upper body, providing a makeshift bed of sorts. His features are soft, the serene sight bringing a smile to your face. So you seat yourself at the tree’s base and turn to your attention to your wickered basket.

You push back the lid and remove the linen keeping the food warm. The delicious, mingling scents make your mouth water. And cause a groan from up above. Anil shifts, blinking down at you with bleary eyes, a few stray leaves clinging to his mussed hair. You giggle.

“Good afternoon, Anil. Did you sleep well?” Anil yawns widely, his fangs unsheathing themselves from the action.

“Very, thank you. By chance, is that venison I smell?” You nod.

“It’s for you. I purchased it from the market as a surprise. Come have some.”

You think you see Anil’s body tense for a few moments.

“Are...are you sure?” he asks with a hesitant tone.

You huff out a light laugh and smile.

“Of course I am!”

Seconds later, he takes you up on your offer and slithers his way down. Soon he’s beside you, happily partaking of the meat, bread, cheese, and fruit you’ve brought along. He finishes his portion with a satisfied sigh, licking his claws with a forked tongue while you tuck your leftovers back into the basket for dinner.

“I wasn’t sure what to get originally, but I figured venison would be a safe bet. Was I right?”

Anil glances your way then down to his hands.

“You were, and then some. It’s actually my favorite.”

He fidgets, the motion traveling down to his curled tail. It reminds you of how a ripple affects an entire pond.

You reach out with a tentative hand and touch his shoulder. His deep inhale doesn’t escape your notice. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes! I’m just thinking, that’s all. But that can wait. How was your time at Madam Bastien’s?”

You tell him how your first foray with creating a decoction from memory went. Better than expected, but with some bumps along the way. You also mention the need for another journal and how you expect to have a miniature library soon.

Anil listens intently to you, smiling all the while. But it’s the light in his golden eyes that give you pause. They’re warm, almost molten, and full of...fondness? You’re quick to dismiss the thought and prompt him to tell you about his day, which he readily does.

When Anil asks to see you again, you both agree to the following day. It’s from that point onward that you notice some odd things.

One day, as you accompany Anil to the river, he stays close by your side. During one instance, he places his clawed hand against the small of your back. You don’t think much of it, especially when you both come across some gnarled roots jutting from the ground. He carefully and gently guides you over the obstacles, but his touch lingers before he pulls away.

Then, at the river, he catches a large haul of fish. But instead of placing them all into his own personal satchel, he reveals a second bag. He fills it with the majority of his catch and presents it to you with a shy smile on his lips. You accept it with genuine thanks and he looks away, grinning with pleasure.

After that, Anil keeps close to you in various ways. But more so as he tells you about his family, him leaving the den before his other siblings, and meeting the Adleys. Still, whether it’s to guide you by holding your hand, to show you some of his favorite areas in the forest, or to present you with more food, he’s always near. In fact, your personal stock of meat is nearly overflowing and you’d hate for it to go to waste.

Early that morning, you smoke the meat (with the wood Anil happily volunteered to chop for you) and bring the bundle to your next meeting with the Madam. She hums with pleasure as she tucks into the food and calls her coachman to receive a portion.

“This fish is considered a rare delicacy here in the capital,” she says, dabbing at her lips with a thick napkin. “Last I checked, the fishmonger was unsure if he would have any this season. How did you come across it?”

You sip at your water, unable to hide your smile.

“A friend of mine gave me a part of his catch.”

Madam Bastien gives you a look. It reminds you of the knowing way your mother would look at you when a young boy caught your attention.

“Just a friend? Are you sure of that?”

You’re about to refute her claim but pause. Your mind recalls just how close Anil has grown towards you over the last few weeks. You’ve also learned more about him and have come to greatly enjoy his company. But there’s...something more.

“It seems,” Madam Bastien begins, pulling you from your thoughts, “that your friend wishes to impress you. If I may ask, what has he done for you so far?”

You explain everything. And when she asks how it all began, you mention the picnic you prepared as thanks for saving your life from a raging bear. Confusion colors her face, but when you mention Anil being a naga…

The Madam nearly chokes on her wine. She swiftly places her napkin against her mouth as she coughs, clearing her throat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you say standing up, hands raised and ready to help.

But she holds up her own hand in reply, making you pause. She gestures for you to sit and you do.

“Since that is the case,” she says after a deep swallow, “I should explain a bit about the naga and their courting habits…”

She starts at the beginning, aligning what you and he have done so far with the start of naga courtship behavior. The interested party provides food without prompting, letting the other know their interest in them as a possible mate. As she provides more detail into what may happen—including copulation—a burning heat floods your cheeks. But you find that it isn’t unwelcomed.

“So then,” she concludes, “That is what you should expect. I just hope that your new paramour won’t distract you from your studies, yes?”

“Of course not.” You’re stunned to find that you mean every word and that you agree with Anil being more than a friend. “But, if it’s alright with you, may I be excused early today? There are some things I need to take care of.”

The Madam calls for her coachman, gives you a knowing smile and winks.

“Good luck, dearest.”

------------------------------------------------

You can barely contain yourself as the coach coasts to a stop before your cottage. In fact, you take the initiative and leap out before the coachman is able to open the door for you.

You quickly circle around back and follow the stone pathway towards the edge of the forest. Your heart swells at the sight nearing closer with each stride.

Anil holds a bundle of makeshift markers, the tips dyed that familiar shade of red. Before he’s able to spear the next stick into the ground, you shout his name. He pauses, straightening his body and saying your name as you dash towards him.

He manages to catch you as you leap towards him, your arms winding around his neck and your cheek nestling against his own. He shudders, him own grip tightens around your body, secure and warm.

“I’m guessing something good happened today?”

You hum in reply, pulling back so you can see him face to face. Then, you gently press your lips against his.

Anil tenses, and for a moment, doubt begins to seep in. But it’s quickly swept away as he kisses you back, his fangs pressing against your mouth and the tips of his claws gently teasing the nape of your neck. All while as his other arm holds you close. Your hand taps his back, a reminder of your need to breathe. He tapers off the kiss, taking in a few deep breaths of his own. His golden eyes glitter as they take in your breathless expression.

“I didn’t...I wasn’t sure...so you are interested in me as I am in you?”

“I am,” you say, cupping his cheek in your palm. “It just took me some time to realize it.”

He nuzzles against your warmth, with a large grin.

“How so?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” you say. “One that may take up most of the day.”

“I want to know,” Anil says. “As long as I can be right next to you.”

You can’t help but silently agree. “The cottage is large enough for the both of us, if that’s alright with you?”

Anil presses his forehead against yours, his eyes drinking you in.

“More than,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

#monster boyfriend #monster/human #monster romance #exophilia #naga boyfriend #naga #400 follower raffle #I hope you all enjoy!#female reader #fem reader

114 notes · View notes

positivecorrelation · 4 years

Text

“You are perfection, my only direction”

“ Fire on fire would normally kill us But this much desire, together, we're winners They say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In a world where superpower is not fiction but reality, where a few lucky ones are born with some unique powers, where they’re treated and adored as warriors by normal civilians, where these blessed individuals got lessons to fight the evil entities of different planets, these people sacrifice everything for this single mission.

For them, falling in love is against the law.

Their power is their blessing and love is their curse. That’s how the entire kingdom maintains its balance between civilians and warriors.

If a warrior fell for a civilian, they’ll be able to live but their power would slowly fade away.

Moreover, warriors cannot fall in love with another warrior because if they did, their superpowers would not only stop working but the yearning and grief would consume them, fill them with hatred and ultimately destroy them.

It’d never let them get closer to their true love. In order to stay a true warrior that’s the price they’ve to pay.

Marshall and Colson are two well known warriors, adored by many, loved by none. They're proud of their powers. One’s blessed with super strength while the other one’s got teleportation power.

Both Marshall and Colson were from opposite warrior realms. They were never meant to meet each other, never even come close to one another.

~~~~~~~

Since childhood, Colson had felt that he’s a little different from all the other warriors. It’s not like he hated fighting for the good side, in fact he loved it, enjoyed it immensely when civilians and his peers praised him for his wins but he knew this wasn’t his life.

Most of the time, he would prefer to train alone, far away from other warriors. It’s not like he hated his friends but everyday he would travel alone to different kingdom under disguise and would quietly watch the civilians. He loved seeing those non-warriors showing affection to one another. He would notice each and every civilian couples; he’d observe their happiness, their simple touches, their whispered words, their laughs. He would envy their passion for one another, he would crave for a love similar to theirs.

In those moments, he would feel disgusted, both at his luck and at his life. He wanted those touches, he wanted someone to look at him the same way, someone to laugh with, someone, who would be happy to share this pathetic life with him. Someone, who would love him for he is, who would look past his superpower and bring out the real him.

He wanted to fall in love and be loved back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marshall was trying his best to beat the alien entities. There’s been a surprise attack, he was alone and outnumbered but that couldn’t stop him from using his all of his superpower.

He was tired and bloody. It was getting dark, yet he kept fighting. There was no one to help him. All the other warriors have gone to the enemy planet to kill them all. Marshall had stayed behind to protect the civilians and destroy all the invaders.

After fighting for hours he was finally able to kill all the evil alien entities but his injuries were severe. He was kneeling on the ground, breathing heavily. His whole body was littered in wounds. He knew how to wear those battle scars as badges of honor but he needed a moment to himself to gather himself up and his emotions.

It’s times like these, he wishes, there was someone waiting for him. Someone who’d care, someone, to whom he’d truly matter. He loves being a warrior but for the past few years, he’d been feeling this longing, this restlessness that he’s been missing something important. He’s always shied away from those thoughts. No point in dwelling about things that are unattainable.

As he tried to get up, an outstretched hand came into his view. Marshall furrowed his brow. He was confused, so he looked up and what he saw, completely took his breath away. He saw the most enigmatic face he had ever laid his upon, looking down at him with a soft smile and concerned eyes.

It was Colson.

Marshall has known about the young warrior. He was well aware about Colson’s power and his various successful missions but he had never thought, never imagined in his wildest dreams that he would come face to face with that young warrior. That a simple glimpse of this young man would turn his world, upside down.

That something which he was missing all these years would be standing right in front of him one day. It was beyond Marshall's imaginations that another warrior would change his life’s meaning, cause up till now, defeating evil was Marshall’s only mission, his only love... but not anymore.

There’re no warrior who’s not familiar with the name, Marshall. Everybody knew about this great warrior and his uncountable achievements. Most of them looked up to him, Colson was no exception but the young warrior had never thought he would have the fortune to meet the other warrior one day.

It was a shock for Colson to see Marshall kneeling on the battle ground, wounded and alone. He wanted to rush towards him and help, but he tried his best to keep his composure and slowly walked towards Marshall. Little did he know that, this one single decision would change his entire world.

Instead of taking the proffered hand, Marshall ignored it. He had already lost a lot of blood, he was also feeling rather dizzy but he still forced himself to school his expression into one of indifference and tried to get up on his own. Marshall’s whole body was aching, he was trembling terribly but he could let Colson witness, how much their close proximity was affecting him.

Not wanting to risk losing his own sanity and his one chance at saving something precious, Marshall made up his mind and began to walk slowly, away from the young warrior. Colson was from a different realm, interacting with him will only create more curiosity and Marshall cannot have that.

Colson felt hurt at Marshall’s refusal but he ignored it for the moment and made up his mind to keep walking right beside Marshall, to keep him company, in case the warrior needed any assistance, he would gladly provide his help.

Marshall was rather annoyed but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling bad for the young warrior. He wanted to talk to Colson. Assure him that he’s alright.

He wanted to know what was Colson doing here, all alone. Why was he following him now? Marshall couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive also. There’s usually bloodshed and theft of powers when warriors showed their weakness to another warrior, especially a warrior who’s from a different realm.

They kept walking but each step was increasing Colson’s anxiety. He was getting worried about the other warrior. He’s always been very compassionate about everything and everyone, his friends knew that but this was something different. The way Marshall was walking on the empty gravel road, the sight of him almost dragging his left foot as he walked, was becoming unbearable for Colson. He had no permission to touch Marshall, he didn’t want to become the subject of the famous and rather handsome warrior’s anger but seeing Marshall in such pain Colson couldn’t take it anymore, he had to do something.

Nodding to himself, Colson softly grabbed Marshall’s right hand and guided it over his own shoulder, placed his own left hand around Marshall’s waist. Their height difference made it a little difficult to walk properly but it at least took away most of the pressure from Marshall’s left foot.

When Colson first touched his hand, Marshall was so shocked that he didn’t know how to react. Wide blue eyes adorned with long eyelashes kept looking at Colson. Being in so much pain, Marshall was incapable of voicing his displeasure or reluctance or warn Colson about anything so he kept quiet and let the charming guy help him.

Colson was rather ecstatic to finally being able to help the other warrior. That he got the unspoken permission to touch Marshall, was making him feel like a happy child. He was in fact thankful that Marshall didn’t yell at him or shove him away. His heartbeat however was rapidly increasing and a dull burning sensation kept spreading gradually all over his body. The more he felt mesmerized by Marshall, a sense of discomfort began to grow equally.

By the time they reached the border of both realms, Colson’s entire body was emitting heat, his skin was hyper sensitive with burnt marks. However, it was dark and Marshall was too preoccupied to keep himself upright on his own feet that such a sight went unnoticed by him. Colson couldn’t blame him as he could see Marshall was also sweating profusely so they bid each other half-hearted goodbyes, well mostly Colson did most of the talking and then they went on their own way.

Except, Colson couldn’t take it as a farewell, he wanted to meet the warrior again so he kept standing at the border for a few more minutes. Unable to physically cross the border, his eyes kept looking at Marshall’s retreating back. Colson stood there until he couldn’t see him no more. When he was sure Marshall wasn’t visible in the far distance, he decided to finally look down at his himself and realized that the skin of his left hand was covered in blisters and his clothes were heavily singed.

~~~~~~~~~~

Days turned into months. Marshall and Colson tried to carry on with their lives but both of them found it impossible to forget the other. Marshall was curious about Colson but he refused to ask around or even search for him. He knew the consequences of continuing something which had no future. Even if it had, he couldn’t risk it. However, time to time, whenever he thought about the other warrior, Marshall could feel a twinge in his heart.

Colson on the other hand, visited the border everyday, hoping to see a glimpse of Marshall but it had been months and there was still no sign of Marshall. Colson refused to give up on his hope but it was getting rather difficult. Those blisters have vanished a long time ago but there was an unpleasant emptiness, a dull ache was still present inside of his heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyday he waited till dusk at the border for Marshall and everyday he was left with only disappointment. After many days, when one day, when he was was about to go back home after feeling dejected, yet again, he noticed a lone figure was standing far away on the other side of the border.

Colson couldn’t properly identify who it was from such distance but as the lone figure kept walking towards him, his heartbeat started to increase again. It was him. It was Marshall. Colson knew he would visit one day, he knew it. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling wide, he was glowing with happiness, his heart was soaring high.

His both hands however started burning again and this time sparks began to emit so he quickly put them behind his back and tried his best to keep the smile intact on his face but tried his best to not show any sign of discomfort.

As Marshall slowly approached and stood right in front him, Colson felt like crying. He has waited so long for this moment. The pain was too much, both psychical and emotional.

He didn’t know Marshall personally but he found it hard to ignore the pull towards him and by the looks of the other warrior, it was obvious that Marshall also felt the same. Colson was ecstatic. He couldn’t believe that he could be worthy of someone’s affection. That it could be possible for him to experience the same thing those civilians get to experience everyday with their life partners. He couldn’t believe his luck that he’d actually found somebody to love.

However, before Colson could say anything, Marshall pinned him with a cold stare, looked him straight in the eyes - those pretty ocean blue eyes - took a deep breath and began to speak, “I won’t pretend to not know what’s been happening here or for the past few months. I wouldn’t have come otherwise.”

The smile began to falter on Colson ‘s face. He could sense that this wasn’t the moment he was dreaming about every second of his life for the last few months. It doesn't go unnoticed by Marshall but he knows he has to say it so he continues; “We’re both warriors and whatever is happening here, cannot happen”

“But...” Colson begins.

“I won’t let it happen.” Marhall finishes.

That smile is completely gone now, that burning sensation is still lingering but Colson cannot concentrate on that. He’s finding it real hard to comprehend Marshall’s words.

“Is he that much undesirable? Can’t he feel what he’s feeling? Does Marshall want someone else? Is there someone else? Someone better?” - such questions clouds Colson’s mind. His anxiety begins to reappear. He can feel a panic attack is looming at the horizon but still Colson puts on a brave face and asks; “Why?”

Marshall has nothing to offer, he cannot answer the question, he cannot reveal the truth so he lies and says; “I don’t want you. Nothing can ever happen between us. You see, if I ever fall in love with someone, it would be definitely a civilian and not a warrior.”

Colson keeps looking at him with unbelieving eyes so Marshall decides to put the proverbial final nail in the coffin. Marshal almost sneers at him and tries to put more venom into his next words;

“ You’re an abomination and there’s nothing as love at first sight. Did you really think something like that could happen between us? Those are old tales, simple fiction. This is reality and I’m telling you, I can never love you. I will never love you.” Marshall almost screams at Colson as his own blunt nails cuts into his palms.

“You’re lying.” Colson’s voice breaks but he continues, “I know... I know you’re lying. You’re just afraid, Marshall, but give it a chance...give us a chance. I promise you I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you. I lo...”

“I’d rather die”, Marshall says through gritted teeth as his own skin begins to burn.

“Well... then I won’t be far behind” Colson answers with a small smile. As tears prick his eyes, there a huge lump in his throat, his vision become ever more blurry. When his vision clears, Marshall had already left.

~~~~~~

By the time Marshall reached his own house, his entire body was experiencing a horrible burning sensation, blisters began to pop up everywhere. He hoped it was enough to crush Colson’s hope.

Colson hadn’t noticed but Marshall had already seen the fiery sparks on the young warrior’s hands. He had seen the determination, the love, the stubbornness in those eyes. He doesn’t want the young warrior to know that. Marshall doesn’t want Colson to know about his true feelings. More than that, he doesn’t want Colson to become a victim of his own feelings, give up his superpower and destroy his own life for love. Marshall would rather die.

On the other side of the border, Colson was on his knees. He was experiencing an overwhelming, unbearable grief. That prickling burning sensation had lessened but there’s a pain inside his heart that was slowly spreading all over his body. Marshall’s each and every word had felt like a knife, he would gladly believe them if any of those statements had been true. However if Marshall was truly incapable of loving him then nobody deserved to be in love.

Colson refuses to deny his own feelings for Marshall but the more he refused to give up the more his skin began to burn. His heartbeat began to work overtime, his clothes caught on fire out of nowhere. In the cold dark night he was standing alone, like a human torch, illuminating the area.

He felt rage. So much rage. He is in love and right now the whole world is his enemy. Nobody can escape his wrath.

His love will burn the entire universe down for Marshall.

“Maybe I’m the reincarnation of Icarus”, Colson muses.

It’s fitting, he supposes, cause Marshall is his bright light at the end of this dark and lonely tunnel, and this time, he won’t fail.

He will reach the Sun.

#EMGK #Float Your Boat #This was a struggle #In case you're wondering emgk lives everybody dies

17 notes · View notes

sarah-writes-marvel · 4 years

Text

Mistaken: Part 2/2

S.S: Sorry this took so long to get out. I had some difficulties liking the ending and I’m still not a huge fan of it so sorry.... Anyways hope you enjoy, at least a little bit.

Warnings: Mental abuse kinda, nightmares, swearing, slight suicidal ideation

Word Count: 1833

MASTERLIST Pt1

===============================================

After a few days of travel, the familiar look of my childhood home came into view. The gravel road leading to the house lined with sunflowers taller than me. Though the memories were not amazing, it was home and it felt nice.

I approached the door carefully, hesitating before knocking against the wooden door. It was a few minutes before the door swung open revealing my mother, tears in her eyes, and my father standing behind her a dark look across his features, adorned in his work uniform with a familiar symbol hidden under his pocket flap.

Almost immediately I was pulled into a hug, the scent of herbs, wood and mint overwhelmed my senses. The feeling of my mother fraile arms wrapped around my torso brought tears to my eyes.

“My little Sunflower! I'm so glad you're home! I haven't seen you in ages! You've grown so much,” the age was evident in her voice as she held me at arms length taking me in.

“I'm happy to be home too momma. I'm laying low for a while and I couldn't think of anywhere else to go.” I smiled as she pulled me into the house.

“If you’re laying low you should've gone somewhere else. You're putting your family into danger by coming here.” my father sneered, his signature frown etched onto his face.

“ There won't be any harm to you. A mistake happened during a mission. I just need to stay away from the public eye until it's sorted and dies down.”

“What happened? Do you need to talk about it?” The pure love pouring from my mother overshadowed the darkness that radiated from my father.

“That’s the thing. I don't know what happened. I can't remember anything.” I shook my head.

“It’ll be alright honey. They’ll figure it out.” the words of reassurance caused tears to blur my vision. “Let's get you some food, you looked starved.”

After a filling meal, a catch up with mom and a slice of cake I made my way up to my old bedroom. It was pristine and untouched. My bed was perfectly made with the baby blue sheets and the dark purple comforter that I loved when I had been younger. My stuffed animals lined my wall, pictures that I had colored and drawn plastered above them. It was so normal. I was quick to snuggle into bed turning off the lamp on my nightstand shrouding the room in moonlight.

The sweat dripped down my temple as I sat up abruptly, the vision of people strewn across the street plagued my mind. The moonlight shone in through the trees creating an odd pattern on the floor as I tried to calm my erratic heartbeat from the nightmare.

Tossing off the covers of my bed, my bare feet met the fuzzy carpet next to my bed, a comfortable contrast to the wooden floor. I made my way quietly down the hall and downstairs to the kitchen only to see my father silhouette sitting in the dark. A pin flipped in his hand was quickly hidden away when the floor creaked under my step.

“Why are you up?” my voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake up mom. He swirled his glass of what I assumed was alcohol, considering I could smell it from where I stood.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He replied downing the rest of the liquid.

“Just a nightmare. Nothing really.”

“Hmm. Well then you can say I’m up because of a nightmare as well. A living breathing one that is living amongst us.” His tone was low and threatening. “I saw what happened. It’s everywhere.”

My heart sunk. Of course it would be. It was a huge mistake done by one of the most famous groups of heroes.

“I don’t know what happened. It wasn’t me controlling that.” I defended myself quietly.

“It doesn’t matter, you’re still the monster that you were when you left here. You will never be anywhere near a hero. Especially not after that.” his words stabbed me after each syllable.

“I wasn’t in control. It wasn’t me.”

“It doesn't matter. It is you, doesn’t matter whose fault it was. It’s on you. Maybe it is good that you left. Your new representation would ruin the Avengers.”

“It wasn't me! I am a good person!” I cried, his words finally striking a nerve.

“No, you aren’t! You just showed the world the Ungrateful little fucking Monster that you truly are! The avengers don't need you. They don't want you. You are nothing but the dirt under their shoes.” his voice echoed through the empty kitchen. “If you go back even after all this dies down, sooner or later you’ll disappoint them all over again!”

His body towered over me his face inches away from mine with complete and under hatred written across his features. Tears streamed down mine as I stared into his cold and dead eyes, something that was a staple to his being, something familiar from somewhere other than home.

“Then maybe I should just fall off the face of the Earth.” I suggested quietly.

“It wouldn't be the worst idea. You wouldn’t be any more trouble to everyone. We’d be free of you, free to live a life without fear.” he said, his voice low and dark.

“You know, there will always be fear, it just depends on what fear you focus on.” a familiar voice spoke up from behind my father's looming figure. “Even if she’s out of your life, off the face of the Earth there will be threats and we would lose someone who can stop them.”

My father stepped aside turning around to face the voice meeting the steely looks of Nat, Sam and Bucky. Immediately he shrunk away from the confrontation. The three looked towards me, each with a small smile across their face.

“When you run away you’re supposed to go somewhere that isn’t familiar to you or anyone around you.” Nat jokes, stepping forwards and wrapping me in a hug. I was quick to move from her arms, receiving a confused look on her end.

“What are you doing here? I'm not going to go back if you're just going to put me in jail.”

“We’re not gonna put you in jail Doll. Tony found that there was a device that sent out a specific frequency that messed with your powers causing your outburst.” Bucky spoke up, explaining the situation.

“We brought it to the press and the officials and they found that it was a mistake. You’ll have to do some press conferences and we have already started looking for solutions to the issue. You can come back without too many consequences.” Sam smiled brightly.

“That’s nice and all but the fact is that I still caused damage and there's always the chance it’ll happen again.” I reminded them sullenly, sinking into myself.

“We all have caused damage in this line of work. That doesn't mean we quit. WE keep fighting to prevent it from happening again. Mistakes happen. If it happens again then we’ll deal with it, but right now the world could use another hero.” Nat persuaded, the plea evendient in her soft voice.

“Alright. I’ll come home. But for now I need to take a break. Be with my mom, just for a little bit.” I gave a small smile to the three hoping they would understand.

“Of course. Take a little bit of time. We’ll try and keep the press off your trail.” Sam reassured.

I smiled, a silent thanks, and watched as they smiled back and left. My father sulked in the dark.

“You’re just a bomb waiting to explode.” his voice was dark and menacing.

“And you are just an Asshole wishing that you could've been something more in life. Instead you're jealous of your daughter and so you sabotage her life only for it to backfire.” I said before turning to him. The look of shock crossed his features.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” he stammered as his back hit the wall.

“Sure. The Hydra symbol hidden on your clothes, the pin that you flipped between your fingers earlier. You’re cold dead eyes are so recognizable. I know it was you. Only you would know how to set my powers off.”

The look of pure terror was in his eyes and my fist began to glow.

“Is it true?” the quiet voice of my mother came from the stairs. “Do you work with Hydra? Are you trying to kill my daughter?”

“No! I would never!” he testified as he looked at her tired eyes through the darkness. I grasped his hand, releasing the pin that signified his alliance with Hydra. I quickly sent a message to NAt to turn around and come back.

“Don't lie to her. You’ve hurt her enough in your lifetime.” I said tossing the pin into the trash. Tears shone in my mother's eyes as I tied his hands using ripped plastic bags. His eyes still held the cold deadness to them, barely showing any emotion.

“You weren't worth being married to. I hope you can get that through your messed up brain.” he sneered to my mother, breaking her heart more than before.

A knock broke the tense silence that had fallen upon the room. My mother opened the door to the previous company of the three Avengers, each had a hard unreadable look as they entered. BUkcy picked my father up from the floor by the collar of his shirt, a low growl came from his throat as he gave my father a look that could kill.

“Search the house. There's gotta be evidence around here somewhere.” I stated. NAt and Sam nodded as Bucky hauled my father to the QuinJet. I turned to my mother who was standing in the middle of the kitchen lost in her thoughts.

“I'm sorry my little Sunflower. I should've seen it.” she whispered, her tearful eyes meeting mine.

“It’s not your fault. Hydra is good at keeping their secrets. You can't tell who's working for who nowadays and it's terrifying. Why don't you come back to the compound with us just for a while until things can calm down a bit and begin to feel a little more normal.” I suggest squeezing her in a hug. I felt her wrap her arms around my waist and nod against my shoulder.

Someone cleared their thoat breaking the moment. I turned to see Sam standing behind me with materials to build a device “hidden” in a box. With that The four of us joined Bucky and my father on the QuinJet and headed back to the compound.

Eventually the evidence was placed under Shield custody and my name was clean again, minus the few damages done. My mother stayed on compound grounds in a little cottage just to the side and things went back to as normal as they could be.

===========================================

S.S: sorry it kinda sucks.... not too proud of this one. ANyways as always thanks for reading and never be afraid to request and I’ll do my best to write something for ya!

#buckybarnes #natashasromanoff #samwilson #hydra #theavengers #tonystark #captainamerica #steverogers #wintersoldier #wandamaximoff #scarletwitch #blackwidow #thefalcon #ironman #angst #fluff #shitpost

15 notes · View notes

mrneighbourlove · 4 years

Text

Burnt Heart: Ch 3. Breach of Trust

Kahli’s head was throbbing. Every muscle of his felt like agonizing hell. His blood was dry on the edges of his mouth. How did he-

“Zizi.” With one name spoken unconsciously aloud, he remembered everything. One of his offspring from the islands arrived. His mind was racing, worries of his family in danger. That thought switched to his relationship to Zizi. By God. The lie he had been forced to keep for so long was finally revealed. And she blasted him. She blasted him! She nearly killed him! He never laid a finger on her with violence all his life as she nearly obliterated him without wanting an explanation. The next thought rested on the life debt. Would his mind shut down from the psychological burden of not being able to follow Zannah’s command? Did it even matter now the truth was out? Maybe not. Finally, his mind rested on his son. It was Manaco’s birthday, and he needed to see his boy.

Getting up from the medical table in a calm state, Kahli silently made his way to begin the journey to his son’s house.

"Will you stop nagging?"

"I'm not nagging, I'm telling you, the picture is crooked!"

"Your head is crooked!"

"Manaco, Ahusaka, stop arguing, everyone will be here in two hours for the party, and your squabbling won't make things go any faster." Urboro told her arguing brothers. "Now, one of you come over here and help me with this banner."

"I'll help you since you got the short genes of the family." Miku teased her sister.

"Like Mom."

"Shuddup and help me with this stupid banner."

Kahli had reached the house long ago. He didn’t try to hide his disheveled look, or the fact his suit was almost reduced to rags. His head rested on the door for ten minutes, the weight of his personal sins blunted into his mind like a dagger. Listening to her happiness, he felt terribly guilty. This was supposed to be his son’s special day, and, in some ways, he’d ruin it today. Finally, with only half a breath to gang courage, he walked through the door.

"What the ever-living fuck?" Urboro had no filter, just like her aunt, Zolori. "Dad! What happened?!"

"Did you pick another fight with Uncle Covarog?" Miku asked dryly, knowing all about their little spat. "I told you that's a bad idea, you'll upset Mom."

"Or did you try to hunt an over-sized boar again and it buck you off?" Ahusaka winced. "I remember that it cut you open with that tusk."

"Dad, seriously? What were you thinking? I'd like for you to be alive on my birthday." Manaco shook his head. "Sit down, I'll get you a drink."

Kahli’s eyes darted between his children. Every time he thought he had something to say, it didn’t form aloud. Sitting down, he waited for his son to get him that drink.

"So, what was it? Fight? Boar? ... gravity increasing upon you?"

"No one likes a smartass, Manaco."

"Tolerate me for a day, okay? It's my Name-Day."

Kahli stared out the window for a moment, taking sips from the beer his son provided. “Your mother, justifiably so, tried to kill me.”

The siblings exchanged glances and started to snicker.

"Good one, Dad."

"We all know Mom doesn't like to fight."

"If she wanted to kill you, you'd be dead, you know how she is when she's mad."

"Besides, Mom doesn't have a reason to kill you, you probably just got ruffed up in a spar, right?"

Kahli gave them a gaze that looked through them. “I... hell take me. I cannot even reveal the contents of the life debt to you all, even now. No matter how much I wish I could break through the shackles of my biology. Children. I love you. Everything I’ve done has been done to keep you all and your mother safe and happy. But I’ve hurt her. I tried so hard not to, but I did. And she nearly killed me for it. You’re going to hear things about me from her. Information that is true, and truths I cannot share myself.”

Now, all the siblings had their full attention on their sire. Worriedly, the brothers and sisters looked at each other before Manaco stepped forward.

"Dad? What is it?" He felt anxious. "Is... is something wrong with you? With Mom? What's going on? You're scaring us."

"Scaring is an understatement."

"Hush, Urboro."

“I want to tell you, but I...” Kahli grasped the sides of his head, fury building up inside. “Being a Hasai is a curse. Too loyal, too many burdens. That woman. I let her use me because my body wouldn’t let me refuse. I can’t believe your mother tried to kill me. Her anger is just, but to strike me? How could she? I loved her through the burden of my secret. I did everything to guide her safety through life. It tears me up that I can’t just TELL YOU!” Kahli was now clawing his skin, nails digging into flesh.

"Okay, this is more serious than a birthday party." Manaco motioned for his siblings to follow him. "We'll go talk to Mom. You stay here, get some rest, and there's food and water in case you need it. There's no way Mom would hit you without a damn good reason. We'll be back." With that, Manaco and his siblings hurried out the door.

Kahli waited in the house, silence his only companion now. How long did he wait? He had no idea. He scarcely remembered the dinner he devoured, or the drink he consumed. Time just didn’t phase him. He even thought of castrating himself, just as Zizi desired.

It was a long talk with her eldest children. Needless to say, all of them were shocked. The secret was... hurtful. There was no foundation left for trust. Their father had lied not only to their mother, but to all of them. Their mother blasting their father halfway across their home was another issue. While none of them liked violence, all of them agreed they had never seen her so angry or so upset before. She looked... devoid of hope. While Manaco took their mother up to the bedroom to rest, the group of brothers and sisters tried to save face. "I... what are we going to do?" Miku felt awful.

"Mom's... hell, I've never seen Mom like this. Never seen Dad like this." Urboro ran a hand down her face.

"This won't be fixed. Can't be fixed." Ahusaka had his arms crossed and was in deep thought. "Mom will never trust Dad again."

Outside Zizi’s house as the group were talking, Grievous had made herself back from the bench she waited patiently on. Kahli never came by here, so she had no idea where to look for him now. She was set on retrieving Sylvain and flying out to look for him. Spotting more half siblings, she froze.

The rest of Zizi's and Kahli's brood were coming home from school. Keira had finished work for the day and went to fetch them. Every single day, all the Slatki kids traveled from home, to school, and then back home together at the end of the class. All of them were laughing, talking, or teasing one another. They were all happy... and had no knowledge of the strife behind their house's door.

Grievous observed from afar, her Wyvern being small enough to sneak around lightly without detection. Going to the fountain, she spotted her fathers blood was still intact and not cleaned away. Her companion took a sniff of the blood and picked up a scent at her command. Climbing on the saddle, she patted his side. “Fly. Go to him.”

As soon as the rest of his brothers and sisters entered through the door, Manaco felt his stomach sink. How was he going to explain this to them? Zizi had cried herself to sleep and his siblings had no clue. He had to keep their family together... somehow.

At Manaco’s house, Kahli still waited. He knew in his heart of hearts that no one would come back, least not so soon. Standing to get another drink, the door was suddenly kicked open. Before him, the same girl appeared. The same girl that helped bring his world done. Only now, she had paint down just half her face. The clearer side of her face was the same pigment of colour as him. He loathed it. “Get out of my sons house.”

“This time, you will not cast me aside so easily.”

Kahli lunged forward with an empty beer bottle. Grievous ducked, kicking high with her left foot. It sent the bottle flying into the air, raining glass down. Immediately, Kahli and her engaged in hand to hand combat. Both were ruthless, using the claws of their nails to cut deep, punching the days fresh wounds on one another. Every hit they inflicted on the other stung heavily. Finally, Grievous had the upper hand, kicking Kahli out the front door and out onto the road. “You should rejoice father. I am a warrior of the Waku. This is what you wanted, no?”

She tried to throw a punch as he was still recovering. The man caught it, and her hand sizzled with his flame generating from his body. To two Waku, however, this merely was a visual indicator the fight would grow more serious instead of being burnt. “You are not my child. I never asked to be your father.”

Pulling her arm forward, Kahli slugged her in the face with his free arm. He kept her in place, punching her twice more.

Growing weary, Grievous kicked Kahli in the chest, and explosion of lightning sending him flying back into the gravel of the road. Fire could be absorbed, but electricity was another matter. “You let the Emperor create an army from your DNA.”

“My life debt gives me no choice. I did everything I could for my family regardless of the predicament I was in. You coming here jeopardizes their lives. Foolish girl.”

Kahli rose, and blasting the ground with fire to rock himself forward, he dived kicked right into Grievous’ chest before she could react.

The girl slammed into a piece of fencing, reopening her head wound once more. To be honest with herself, she was scared. Kahli was using fire to effectively harm her, something unknown to most Waku. She feared she wouldn’t live long to use such brilliant tactics herself. “You didn’t even think of me? You didn’t think of the others?”

“It was forbidden girl. I had my own family to attend to. You think anyone could possibly be father to hundreds? Surrender, go home, and never come back. I’m sure you have your own family who is concerned for you. A mother. Half-siblings who care for you on whatever island you reside.”

As Kahli walked towards her, his hands knuckles cracked. “Or maybe I should turn you into a bomb and be done with it.”

“What?” No Waku she knew had that power, but she believed it from the conviction in his voice. Despite her fears, she took another battle stance. “If it means making an impression on you, then I’ll gladly die.”

“You’ll what?” Kahli paused just advance, taken aback. Grievous used this moment to try and another attack of lightning, but Kahli caught her hand. At first it shot in the air past his face, but at a twist, the energy quickly fizzled out. “To throw your life away so carelessly, where is the point of that?!”

What ended the fight wasn’t another punch, or blast of lightning, but a slap to the face from the man. Grievous’ voice was high from that, and she fell to the ground. Her father looked down at her, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “My life in shambles. No thanks to you... but no thanks to my fault as well. To tell you the truth, I simply don’t have the heart to kill you. Stay. Go. I’m going back inside for another drink. Think about your own mortality.”

While townsfolk shuddered at the battle and the magic being launched about, Grievous picked herself up to follow Kahli like a puppy who didn’t know anything else better.

Kahli sat on a chair, grabbing another bottle of beer. Seeing Grievous join him in silence, he went to pantry to grant her a drink of water. Separate, they had their beverages in silence.

It took a long while to explain what happened to his younger siblings. All of them were notably upset. Some had no words, others had many. Anger, hurt, and sadness... all of it was overwhelming. Ahusaka and Keira volunteered to look after the siblings while Manaco went to talk to their father. The slight amount of destruction was... notable. Something happened. Entering his own house, he saw... a stranger sitting there. The stranger Keira told him about. The one who was responsible for lifting the lid on his father's box of secrets.

"Dad... we need to talk."

“Haha, do we?” Kahli laughed bitterly. “No doubt you have learned the truth that I have been forced to keep inside for so, so long.”

"Yes." Manaco glanced at Keira. "She's my baby sister. I know that much."

“Her? From a certain point of view. Yes.”

"I want to know how all this came to be, and why... no..." Manaco took a breath, trying to reign in his anger. "I want to know how you could do something to my mother like that."

“Manaco. You remember that time you walked in on that flower garden I was going to make for your mother and all the siblings you had at the time? I know how much it excited you, and I knew you wanted to tell the others. But then I made you keep a promise. You later described it to me as a mental tick. You were still terribly excited, but you kept your word to not tell a soul until it was revealed. Tell me son, do you remember?”

"Of course I remember, but this is way different than a flower bed, Dad." Manaco did not look too impressed. "Secret or not, this... spirits, why Dad? Why?!" Manaco punched a hole in the wall to keep from lashing out at his own father. "Why must you always go crawling back to Zannah?! If you're so loyal to her, why did you stay with Mom?!"

Kahli gave his son a look after he punched a hole in the wall. It was the look to calm down, or he’d have something to be mad about. “There is nothing of loyalty about it. A life debt to a Hasai is similar to a promise, only so much more. Can you imagine being a prisoner to your own mind son? To scream out the pain you feel at a secret you keep, but are unable to share? How dare you express a will for violence when you don’t try to even understand the prison I’ve been in against my own mind and spirit. You think I wanted this? For you to break so easily is pitiful. No. It’s insulting. Despite being humiliated all my life, I’ve done nothing but care for and love you all. Especially your mother.”

"Don't you turn this around on me. I have a right to be angry too, and so does she!" Manaco pointed at Grievous. "I don't have to imagine being a prisoner, cause I never would have allowed myself to be one in the first place! Don't you understand?!" He growled. "Mom doesn't trust you anymore. She told me, personally, and I quote 'if he walks through that door, I'll give him another reason to hurt'. That's not how my mother acts! My mom doesn't want to hurt someone. This family is trying to fall apart, but I did my best to explain back there to all my brothers and sisters what happened. They're all furious with you and they're all hurting."

“I fell into The Emperor’s hand a long time ago. How was I to imagine that she’d do THIS to me? To have me be a vessel to raise my tribe from the depths of genocide.” Kahli stood tall, getting eye to eye with his son. “Zannah made it clear she would take you all away if I refused, if by some miracle I broke free from the mental chains of my debt to her. And I believed her. I have done nothing but love, care, and look after you all. Be furious, but know I did everything for you all while under her pressure.”

Grievous was going to add something, when Kahli started to spew more hurt anger. “She can try. But that is my house as well. That is my memories I made with her. I never hurt any of you, least made a move to kill.”

"You think I don't know that?! We know that you love us, took care of us, still look after us!" Manaco shouted. "I'm trying my best to see your point and my mother's point, but I don't want to pick a side! I want this to go back to normal, and I know it's not, and what's killing me, is having my younger sisters who don't fully understand, asking me why Mom is mad at Dad. I explained it the best I could, but all they know, is Mom and Dad are fighting and they don't like it. So you," Manaco opened the closet door and pulled out a pillow and a blanket. "Are going to stay here until Mom calms down, and you," He pointed at Grievous. "Are going to my Mom's house. She doesn't want you staying here, cause you two aren't going to start up a ruckus again, she's not going to deal with it. My house, my rules. Go."

“Manaco... no. If we don’t talk now, she’ll talk to her sisters. Then Zarazu will tell Covarog, who will tell Ralnor and this whole situation will grow so much uglier.”

Grievous shook her head. “Why should I go there?”

"Mom said she doesn't want to talk to you right now and she's got a whole barricade of plants, vines, and thorns around the house." Manaco shoved the pillow and blanket into his father's arms. "And Mom's not so foolish to tell them until she calms down. She knows how 'precious' the alliance is with the Empire, and that my aunties would want to throttle you. So no, she's not telling them." He then pointed to the door. "Mom said with her, you'll respect her wishes, and you'll respect my wishes as your older brother. Now."

“Older brother? You are the eldest child of Kahli?” Grievous looked ten times more rigid and defensive around him then she did with Keira.

"Yes, I am." Manaco told Keira sternly, "I am the eldest of all fifteen of my brothers and sisters. Sixteen now."

“Try 669 others.”

“What?!” Kahli yelled out. Even he was blindsided by the number.

"... eldest of them as well." Manaco took a slow breath.

Kahli had no idea how to process that. With a definite number, he only came to one conclusion as he breathlessly whispered it in defeat to himself. “And yet not even close to finishing the life debt.”

"By the spirits, no wonder Mom lost her shit." Manaco muttered under his breath. "Look, I'm only going to say this one more time. Go to my mother. While you're here, she'll help you. Make sure you take your lurking pet outside as well." Then he said firmly, "And you are staying here with me so my mother will not strangle you."

Both Grievous and Kahli looked to Manaco, contemplating it over. Finally, they both agreed with a ‘fine’, one more begrudgingly, the other with very little care.

The girl jabbed her finger at Manaco’s chest. “I want to challenge you to combat to test your reign of eldest sibling. Tomorrow of course.”

Manaco was already on edge. He had a darkness in his eyes. Backing Grievous up against the wall, he was radiating a foul aura. His mother was heartbroken. His father had kept a horrid secret that could potentially break the family apart. And now, his supposed little sister wanted to fight him.

"You're an idiot if you think you will win against me." Manaco whispered menacingly. "Get. Out."

“I... understood.” Grievous inched her way to the door, doing very well to hide her fear of him. In fact, it was that fear that made her comply with going to Zizi’s.

Kahli rose up to get another bottle of beer. He must have gone through half his son’s supply in the fridge. “I think she gets this fighting spirit from her other half. I don’t know any Hasai that picks so many fights. War is one thing, but brawls? Nonsense.”

"What is nonsense is the whole idea of a life debt to a so-called 'Empress' who sees you as nothing but a pawn. My family as nothing but pieces on her board." Manaco was angry with his father, but he had to try to think of a solution. While he did not want his father dead, Manaco was afraid that if his mother lashed out again at his sire, he would be six feet under the ground. "None of my siblings nor I are ever going to return to the Empire. You, on the other hand, decide what you want more and help me figure out a way to get you out of this mess."

“What I want more? I wanted, still want, to be with your mother. She is who I am loyal to. What I am to Zannah is a biological and spiritual bond of Exodrum and being a Hasai. I physically cannot deny her wish so long as I’m indebted to her.”

"Do you want to stay indebted to her or do you want to figure a way out of this mess?" Manaco asked his father, "Cause from what I understood, your life debt isn't over and may not be over before you're on your death bed. Sit here and think on it." He then said, "Get some sleep. I'll deal with you in the morning."

“Deal with me?” Kahli grabbed his son suddenly by the collar, throwing him onto the couch. Besides combat drills, this was the most physical he’d ever been with him. “You speak of me as some animal? A burden? You will do well to mind your tongue boy. And think on it? How? You want us to beg Zannah? To throw our hands and knees down to her? Or should we perhaps seek the council of a God? You listen to me Manaco. I’m going in to town to fix your fence. I am going to go to sleep. In the morning, I will go to work. What you will do is sit on this couch and think. You think about how my honour has been nothing but abused, and how lucky you are patience is my greatest virtue. Am. I. Clear?”

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me." Manaco growled at his father. "You won't win me over with a pity party. Mom told you long ago that Zannah was bad news. You still defended her, and Mom chose to have faith in you and now look where it has gotten her. You may blame it on the life debt, but I'm not a fool. You have more loyalty to the Empire than here." He shoved his father out of the way. "Patience? Your greatest virtue? Ha! Your greatest talent is keeping a secret." He then walked up the stairs. "I got another shift in a few hours, and I'm going to rest. I don't care what you do."

Kahli said nothing to his son. If he didn’t care what he did, then those were his words. With that, Kahli made left his sons house. Up until the moon rose over Hyrule, he went to town and back, fixing all the damage and cleaning up the mess in his house. Finally, he went inside to shower. This day... this day was the beginning of the end for him. And Kahli knew things would never be the same. ________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/611234309094948864/burnt-heart-ch-2-trust-thunderstruck

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/612488276332478464/burnt-heart-ch-4-boiling-point

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse. Shared world with @s-kinnaly

#Crossover #ridersoftheapocalypse #Kahli #Zizi #Hasai #Grievous Dal #Manaco #Lorleidians #Waku #Drama

8 notes · View notes

weracetogether · 4 years

Photo

RAGBRAI 2019- The Stories of Iowa https://ift.tt/39j7gz4 I will tell the story of RAGBRAI 2019 as all stories are told, from the conclusion. Over the week we rode for 553 miles and climbed for over 21,000 feet. We had five bike mechanical issues requiring shop stops on the way. We had 14 and 13 beer stops, one pork chop, a wood fired pizza, countless pies, cinnamon rolls, pancakes and sausage, cheesecake, cookies, cobbler, homemade icecream, bbq, tacos, BLT, noodles, fresh sweet corn, gyros, pickles, french toast, and I am sure a few other things I am forgetting. We listened to two lines of about 200 songs (and sang the rest of the songs...well I did). We saw cows, horses, kittens, rams, goats, donkeys, rabbits, and one golden retriever (a half mile from the Mississippi). We threw over 20 milkweed balls. We encountered hundreds of people with stories and laughter. We thanked officers and paramedics and nice old church ladies. Well, that's the overview; now for the stories!!!

USAF cycling team- out to help!

Please note the stories may not be told by day- because this is RAGBRAI!!!! (If you don't understand let's go to Iowa the last week of July and bring your bike.) BIKE SHOPS ON THE ROAD RAGBRAI is a traveling city of support, including traveling bike shops. These shops manage everything from flat tires (because yes, people on a 500 miles ride forgot to learn how to change a tube or to even bring a spare tube) to broken bikes (no seriously, "here are the three parts of the bike and this piece that is hanging off. Can you fix it?"). No matter what was brought to them the bike shop staff were always smiling. We know this because for the first four days we became friends with the guys at Bike World and then the next three days we rode by getting "hellos" and waves, while they asked about our bikes. It all started on day 1!! This was our gravel day and the first day we met Brad. Oh Brad!! We were about five miles out from the overnight town when we stopped at a small pass through town on a big hill. After a quick stop I picked up my bike and suddenly it won't roll down the hill. This is not even me being on the bike pedaling, it won't roll down the hill. In this moment Patrick says the best line of the day (maybe the trip)-- "It is operator error or is something wrong?" The look I gave him at this moment I am sure said a bunch of curse words that I won't type out here, but "are you kidding me right now" would have also been communicated in the moment. So I did what any person who has been riding a bike for ten hours would do; I handed Patrick my bike and said here you roll it down the hill. When it stopped and refused to move for him too, he confirmed it was in fact not operator error. Oh good, because I was worried this was going to be a long week of me not knowing how to use a bike (please read that line in the most sarcastic tone with eye roll.). This led to us going back up the hill with what ended up being a broken spoke. Turns out the gravel may have jostled more than my internal organs. This was when we first met Brad. Brad who was putting back together other bikes with "brake problems", "derailer problems", and "I don't know what happened problems", smiled as we stood there waiting our turn. Brad then looked at my bike and confirmed, again, it was not operator error. Then he proceeded to fix the problem. Now you might be thinking "great job Brad, way to fix that issue." But this would not be our last encounter with Brad or Bike World and one other bike shop I don't recall the name of, sorry. Nope Brad would go on to fix Patrick's chain and adjust his cables for better shifting up hills; Bike World would go on to sell me a tire (not a tube, a tire-- this will be important later), an the other bike shop would also sell me a tire and fix my bottom bracket making my bike no longer sound like a paint can rattling up hills. Every time we needed help they were there (or close enough) and they were light hearted with positive words and smiles. We laughed through being close to tears each time we stood at their tents. And Brad-- you ROCK!!! And I am glad you got to see your mom during the trip and got a good home-cooked meal!!! GRAVEL Holy crap super fun day!!!! I was in love with riding the gravel loop the moment my tires hit that slightly muddy, somehow dusty, all bumpy road. However, my riding buddy was not feeling the same way. This was day one of riding and seriously trying not to die or end up with serious injury on day one was a HUGE concern on this 18 mile loop. At about 3/4 of a mile into the gravel course and Patrick announced he was done (there may have been curse words; correction there were curse words). I was now between a gravel road and a tough place, like the end of our adventure on day one. I stood at the top of this little hill, looking at the bigger hill, while Patrick wrestled his demons. But lets be fair I stood there like a three year old with a five dollar bill outside an icecream shop. I am pretty sure I was trying not to smile and bounce and yell, "This is F-ing awesome" (ok so to be honest I may have yelled that)!!! This moment was not about me; I was ride or die and there was honestly a chance at death since this was a new riding type for us. Patrick agreed to go up the next hill which would put us about a mile into the 18 mile ride and maybe 200 feet of the 1500 feet climbing on this loop done. At the top of the next hill we stopped (me still in three year old "Can we PLEASE do this" mode). To my excitement Patrick now announced that while this was clearly a bad idea, maybe not our worse idea but a bad one, he was game to go!!! Pretty sure I was fist pumping the air and yelling "they can't take our freedom" as I headed down the hill full speed. We would stop a few more times at the top of hills with Patrick shaking his head and me bouncing on my dirt packed cycling cleats. We would also make it about five miles from the end of the loop when the rain came back. This added a new component of mud to the course. I was told on several occasions to be careful, even by the ladies at the patch stop (Pottawattamie County, the highest county in Iowa, yeah that wasn't on the description). It seems people know that look in my eye of "I live for danger" and they all try to help Patrick to control this behavior in order that I may not find out where the nearest hospital is in Pottawattamie County (I can tell you it was not going to be on the gavel road we were riding). We made it safely to asphalt again and Patrick's death grip on his handlebars loosened, high fives were given, and oh yeah, tires were changed (tires that I would carry on my bike for the rest of the day-- I honestly didn't mind the attention, because "hell yeah we did the gravel"). For the rest of the trip any gravel on the road was met with Patrick yelling "gravel" in his best Clint Eastwood raspy voice. Because when you overcome the gravel loop you announce that this is old news to you and you are invincible (well, except for that broken spoke mentioned earlier). MILKWEED BALLS

Patrick is attracted to oddities (I mean he married me, you have to know this statement is true). So when he saw a tent with butterflies and heard the words "do you want balls" he couldn't deny the intrigue. Turns out Milkweed Matters is an Iowa group who puts together milkweed balls for cyclist the throw along the roads of Iowa in an effort to grow more milkweed to help the monarch butterflies to thrive in Iowa. Here's what you do-- you pick up milkweed balls, which are designed with "clay" as a no till natural tilling seeding method, you put them in your pocket, you ride your bike along the roadway, you find an area where other wildflowers are growing, where there is no mowing and no crops, then you toss them out there. That's it! Each day the tents are located on the route and you pick up more balls to throw. (You do get told not to eat them and not to take them out of the area, as this milkweed is specific to growing in this area.) A few notes- throwing things from your bike is awkward (for me) and you get dirty looks from those who don't know. I explained on more than one occasion that I was not throwing trash on the roadway, I was throwing milkweed. To which the most common response was a roll of the eyes. (Look people I am saving butterflies here. Does someone saving butterflies litter? No, no they don't. They save the fucking butterflies!!!) JERSEYS THAT BIND US

In cycling events what you wear matters. Things like shorts, padding, gloves, helmet, all very important; but your jersey cements who you are in the minds of those passing or being passed. This is your calling card, it is the story you will tell for the day-- for one day, maybe one mile, but it will forever define you for that person. This is why the jersey is a very important choice. Jerseys bring out the conversations in people. They are easy talking points- "oh you have a jellyfish on your jersey, I was once stung by one"; "Oh your jersey has an anatomically correct heart on it, does it mean something (the answer is no, it just looked tough)". The conversations go on like this. But there are these jersey conversations that also stick out. Patrick was wearing his Escape from Alcatraz jersey. We had done the race a number of years ago. This jersey was noticed and remarked on often during the day. We were standing around in a pass-through town when I guy came up and mentioned that he had done the race back in the late 90's. He told of how much we liked the race and visiting California. he then said, "Yeah, I did the race because when I was a kid we were visiting Alcatraz when the escape happened. I remember the sirens and the commotion." At this point all Patrick and I could do was stare at the guy who didn't lead with this part of the story; no it was a casual second thought. I am pretty sure I questioned the guy, "You mean you were in San Francisco when the escape occurred?" He looked at me like he shouldn't have to repeat himself, but very nicely he said, "Yeah we were there on a family vacation looking at the island when it all happened." Then he said the following, "Well, you guys have a nice ride." Wait!!! What just happened???? Patrick and I just stood there for a minute as this guy walked on to talk to other people. Then I am pretty sure we just started laughing. This is what happens on RAGBRAI, you meet people, they tell you something cool or unique or unexplainable, and then they are gone. WE STOP FOR BEER-- WELL, IOWA CRAFT BEER TENTS RAGBRAI is a drinking game. We found out from a friend (Thanks, Kevin) that on the route would be these white beer tents- IOWA CRAFT BEER TENT (a mix of Iowa breweries)- and you could get an armband. This armband was the gateway to a free tshirt at the end of the week. Here are the rules-- Get a band; Buy a $5 craft beer or root beer at the tents; You must buy at least ten beers and you have 14 stops to achieve the goal; Only one beer per stop will count towards your total. The second set of rules that you have to follow is how to get your beer-- Have your money out; pick which beer and learn its number; get in line; walk to your beer's number; grab beer off the table; walk through, handing your money to the staff at the end of the line; scan your armband; find a shady place to sit and drink. It is a super easy process, except for on the first day when you didn't read the sign about having out money, this gets you a few dirty looks that say "bless her little heart". Patrick will tell you the process was slightly different, because for him he walked through the line and told the money taker "she's paying for me." To which I always answered, "I don't know him." And then the money taker took my $10 without any gesture to give me change. Now, those are the rules, but the game is really-- "What can Teresa drink and still ride and then what can Teresa drink and not feel that weird pain in her left ankle?" GAME ON. Each day there were two stops, three on one day and only one on the last day. We made a plan to stop at each stop starting on day one. This was a good plan because the beer stop on day one was after the gravel, a celebration beer for sure. For the most part the last beer tent was about 10 miles outside of town which gave me a great opportunity to have a dark beer and still be able to get to the night town safely. We never had a bad beer. A few "not my favorites" but never a bad one. In fact the day I had to drink before 9am (because it was short course day) I had a blueberry pancake beer which was the perfect breakfast!!! Mostly at the first stop I had a root beer or a cider (because fruit mid morning does not bring about judgement). The IOWA Craft Beer Tent would also play a vital role in the State Trooper Story found later in this post. BUGS OF IOWA

On the first night in Iowa I got bit by a bug on my ankle. I'm from Florida so I get bit by bugs all the freaking time. But this REALLY hurt. The following day my ankle was hurting on the ride, like really hurting. By the following day my ankle was swelling and bruising-- and hurting every time my shoe touched it (which is a lot over 70 miles a day). Moral of the story Iowa has bugs that belong in Australia!!!! PIE

I know it is a photo of icecream.

One does not talk about RAGBRAI without talking about pie. Honestly, it is one of the reasons to love RAGBRAI and if you don;t understand this this you missed the point of RAGBRAI. The best pies you will find will be the pie stands with 7 year olds or 70 year olds handing out the pies. There is only one rule in RAGBRAI- eat pie, eat pie often! A TIRE, A GIRL, AND A COP WALK INTO A BEER TENT The final story I will tell about RAGBRAI 2019 is a story about the greatness that is the Iowa State Patrol. It was day four (of seven) Patrick and I were set to do the Karras loop which puts the ride miles over a century ride. We had finished the loop and all the hills required to get there. We were ready to get another fruit smoothy and a beer before we checked this day off the list. During the loop my bottom bracket started to sound like a paint can rattling with every push. I knew I was going to be stopping again at a bike shop tent to figure out this sound, because one thing was for sure it was not a "happy" biking sound. Not to be out done Patrick decided to get a flat tire. Not just any flat but a full tire blow out. This would be his second in the week (we are on day FOUR)- the "other" tire. I am pretty sure at this moment my actual words were, "You are fucking kidding me?" Patrick shook his head, "nope". Then many more curse words got said in that moment. Given that my bike actually could be ridden I decided to ride ahead to scout out a bike shop tent. Well, there was not one at the first town down the road. I can back to let Patrick know that I was going to rid on till I found the bike tent and I would bring back a tire for him. He was to sit under the tent at Tom the Turkey and get a fruit smoothy. Funny enough he had "ride friends" there who had been on the course and at this stop with us previously. I rode up about 10 miles and found the bike repair tent. I told the guys about my bike and the paint can noise. "Sure we can look and fix it, but it is going to take a minute." Great, well you see the other problem is my husband needs a tire and is ten miles that way (pointing back down the road). The bike shops guys could not leave and pack up yet and only had the shop truck. I looked around and saw a state trooper vehicle. I asked the bike guy if he knew where the state trooper was located. He pointed up the hill near the beer tent as he handed me the tire I needed to get to Patrick. I told him thanks and that I was going to be back for my bike after I got the tire to my husband. The guy yelled "good luck" as I marched up the hill.

Actual photo sent to State Trooper. Patrick with a bag of unmarked medication.

The State Troopers were walking away when I stopped them. They turned around and the only way I can explain this is they looked like "Super Troopers"- mustaches and aviator sunglasses in place. I smiled, I did not laugh. I told them I had a situation. I then explained that they could either take me and the tire to my husband or they could take the tire to my husband. Yep, you heard that right- there was no option to tell me no. They noticed that too and looked at each other like I was a unicorn asking for directions. After a few moments of repeating the request, officer one tried to tell me they could not do it but officer two said they had to call their supervisor. I told them I would wait. Officer two walked away, I swear he looked like he was pretending to dial. Officer one just started at me. I looked over my shoulder to see the bike shop guys watching and smiling. Officer two walked back up shaking his head- not at me but as his partner. I was grinning so big when he told Officer one that the supervisor had given the go ahead to take the tire to my husband.

Loop patches.

As Officer one stood there astonished at the response. I began to tell the Officer two what my husband looked like and where he was located. This took much longer than I intended, as it seems the officers were not familiar with the area. We played a game of"who's on first" when I was telling them I had no idea what the two name was but that I knew he was as the Tom Turkey tent and that said tent was ten miles "that way". The officer rolled his eyes at me. I never lost it wanting to yell at him, Dude I am from Florida. DO you know where Florida is? A hell of a lot further away than your house." But I didn't, nope I took a deep breath and explained one more time where I left my husband. Oh wait it gets better. The officer asked for my husband's cell number. The issue here is that my husband's phone died earlier in the day and is in my pack on my bike. In full disclosure I told the officer this information. Officer two looked at me dumbfounded and officer one I am pretty sure threw up his arms in a "are you fucking kidding me" gesture. Officer two, after a few deep breaths, looks at me and says, "You know you are making this very difficult for us?" What I didn't say was "if you had left fifteen minutes ago when I gave you the details you would be there by now and not standing here dealing with me." Instead I told him "I know. And I promise I am not trying to but let's be honest cell phones aren't working out here anyway." Then I told him that what I did have was a photo of my husband form earlier today. I actually had a photo of him sitting in the exact spot that he would later be found in!! I also gave the officer a friend's phone number. A friend who I knew was still out of the road, and who I also knew was more than likely not near Patrick, but it was my best chance (the cops never called Kevin).

Kevin and Kelly- TEAM AWESOME

What would follow was 45 minutes worth of me texting with the officer, who turns out gave the tire to his supervisor to take up the road. I am pretty sure the man was irritated in giving me his number but he answered each text with updates. Until the final notice that Patrick had the tire in hand. I thanked the officer for his help and that the people of Iowa, him included, were amazing. In the meantime, I had gone back to the bike repair tent. I was greeted by laughter form the guys who all talked over each other in disbelief that the officer took the tire from me to go in search of my husband. The guys were nearly done with my bike, so what was there to do but o grab a beer (before the tent closed for the night). There I sat, with my fixed bike, on the side of the road, drinking a root beer (yeah, I know my limits) as first Kevin can riding up. When I said "Hi" and then "did a cop call you" the rest of the story got told with laughter following. As I glanced over the left at the road left behind, there he was, riding up the hill with a huge smile on his face. We both started laughing as he rode up. "I guess the State Trooper found you?" I asked him. "Yeah, he did. How?" It was a story told again from the bike seat as we traveled the rest of the way to town, laughing at how a girl got an officer to take a tire up the road by the power of demand. Let me say this in closing of this story- Thank you to the State Troopers who helped us out and kept us safe for not only this one moment but for the whole ride. The officers were amazing being there with support, blaring music, and a helping hand. There are many more stories to tell of RAGBRAI. Stories of lighting bugs, sunrise and sunsets, award winning cinnamon rolls, water slides, rock bands, and holding hands. But for now this is RAGBRAI! RAGBRAI 2019 has come a gone, but the stories will live forever!!!

#IMCHOO #IMTraining #Triathlete #Triathlon

4 notes · View notes

artistic-writer · 5 years

Text

Sparking the Pavement :: Prologue

Beta’d by the awesome @hollyethecurious

Sparking the Pavement - When a motorcycle is leaned enough to drag the pegs, floor boards, exhaust or other metal parts on the road resulting in a shower of sparks.

Racing was like nothing else in the entire world. The rush of the wind as it hit the protective leathers, pushing the supple material into the limbs hidden inside, trying with all its might to dislodge a rider that would never let go. The rumble of the engine between thighs that gripped at the machine so tightly, muscles had formed on top of muscles there, powerful legs almost touching the ground on every corner, riders only braking momentarily before thrashing it out of the bend under the throaty roar of the bike.

They didn’t control the superbike. It controlled them.

Killian Jones had been racing his entire life. When he was barely old enough to speak, his father had sat him on top of his dirt bike and that was it. He was hooked. No child felt fear, and Killian was no exception, having fallen off everything you could have ever imagined. But each time he would get up and dust himself off. He took the pain, the scrapes, and the broken bones, to fulfill a family legacy that he was the most proud of.

The Jones family were winners. They had been winning motorcycle races in England since before he had even been born. His grandfather was a winner. His father was a winner. His brother was a winner. Killian began racing in the low classes, smaller engines that were easy for him to handle at his young age, but they were never a challenge. Soon he joined the Superbike Championship, following in his older brother’s footsteps and moving his entire life to the United States to better his career. But Killian was a pro, already, and he soon migrated to the next class of power, Moto2, the youngest rider to ever do so.

A few successful seasons in Moto2 saw Killian beating riders of a much higher calibre, including Liam Jones. Nearly five years older than Killian, his brother Liam had been the World Champion in Moto2 for seven years running, and when Killian won his first race, beating his older brother to the finish line by fractions of a second, the journalists couldn’t wait to get into the after race press room. The brothers were good about it, teasing each other at press conferences until they became a strange celebrity attraction at every event. Brothers had raced side by side before, but no younger sibling had ever been more successful, and the press lapped it up.

That year saw Killian taking the title from his brother, a feat no one had managed for nearly a decade, and he was almost immediately head hunted by Repsol Honda. They were a big team, with a much higher spending capacity than Killian’s previous teams were used to, and they were also MotoGP. MotoGP was the top of the tree, the highest point any rider could ever hope to reach in a professional racing career, and somewhere Liam had been trying to get to his entire life. He wasn’t hurt, or angry when Killian had told him he was moving to MotoGP, instead he was the proudest he could ever remember being of his little brother.

Killian’s first few seasons saw him finishing well. In his first year of MotoGP, Killian finished fifth overall, a good win for the team who had taken such a gamble on a rookie. But Honda’s vision and the potential they saw in him was not in vain, and that same year, Killian won the Rookie of the Year award. It gave him a massive boost, and spurred on by words of encouragement from Liam, Killian managed fourth in his second year.

However, the good times were not to last.

In 2005, Liam and Killian were dealt a blow. Their father, Brennan Jones, the man who had taught them both to ride and had given everything he had to make sure his boys were given every opportunity they could have to succeed, died. It was quick, a random car accident where Brennan had suffered a massive heart attack at the wheel and crashed into the side of a bridge. Both of the brothers were distraught, the funeral coming and going quicker than either had ever expected, but it made them more determined than ever to finish their seasons and make their father proud.

The same year, Liam finished his season out on top, adding a new World Championship title to his repertoire. The Superbike Championships were becoming tough competition, newer, younger riders coming in every year and pushing him to the limits of his capabilities. It had been a tough year, Liam barely able to grieve his father whilst having to answer question after question about Brennan’s accident in post race press rooms, so after the last race of his season, Liam announced a sabbatical. He was going to take a year to find himself again, spend some time with his wife Elsa and their daughter Hayden-Rose, and return to racing for the 2006/7 season.

Killian also finished the 2005 season out on the podium, finishing the last race of the season at the Californian circuit, Leguna Seca, in first place. It was an emotional win, tears from both brothers hidden behind the spray of celebratory champagne. Killian finished the season overall in third, his highest ever championship standing and just two places behind the season champion, Neal Cassidy. Cassidy had dominated MotoGP, winning consecutive seasons for the last two years, and Liam was sure that he had seen a tiny bead of nervous sweat from his brow when Killian had come so close to taking his title that year.

The 2006 season was a little slow and Killian got off to a poor start. During the second race of the season, during an overtaking maneuver, he had touched wheels with Cassidy and was sent flying over the handlebars of his bike. Luckily, thanks to his high grade protective gear and the fact he was thrown clear of the bike, Killian escaped the crash with just a broken hand. It wasn’t serious, and race medics cleared him for further races, but Cassidy wasn’t as lucky. After the race, fuelled by rage and adrenaline, Cassidy had been given a black eye and a broken nose by Liam Jones, accusing him of dirty race tactics and dangerous racing.

It didn’t matter though, because later that year, during one of the closest battles for the championship title the world of motorcycle racing had ever seen, Killian Jones came back from a fifty one point deficit, to beat current title holder Neal Cassidy in the very last race of the season. It was close. Too close to call. Jones had beat Cassidy to the finish line with just 0.002 seconds between them, taking the title, huge prize pot, and Neal’s pride all in one fell swoop.

Killian Jones was World Champion, and now, thanks to a very public tantrum by Cassidy, everyone knew his name.

Being the youngest ever World MotoGP Champion was everything Killian could have ever imagined. Money, fast bikes, fast cars and even faster women took over his life. He was famous, and for far more than simply being the younger brother of Liam Jones, and now the spotlight was firmly on him. Everything he did was in the limelight, sponsors were smothering him, everyone desperately trying to get a chance to pay him to wear their logos.

Cassidy was not amused. Everything Killian now had, had been taken from him in the blink of an eye. The media played into their rivalry and in a way, they both used it to their advantage off the track, but on the track they were more serious. Killian was a racer, a true gentleman, but Neal was exactly as Liam had feared; a rat. He took every opportunity he had to exact legal and yet dangerous moves during a race to try and run Killian onto the gravel, but Killian was two steps ahead of him, taking another title, much to Cassidy’s distaste.

Liam had returned to the racing circuit as promised the following year. During his time off, and seeing the possible potential from an all Jones racing team, Liam had been approached by Honda’s MotoGP division. They had asked him to be Killian’s new racing partner, the team seeing that the brothers were more than just two World Champions. They were unstoppable. With both brothers under their wing, Honda won the constructors championship in 2007 as well as claiming a one/two victory for both their riders.

Liam’s come back to racing had earned him a podium place finish in nearly every race, losing only to his younger brother. Racing Killian was fun, and it brought back memories of why he had loved racing in the first place. There was no malice, only two brothers competing at a sport they both loved more than anything else. At the end of the 2007 season, Liam stood on the second step, proud to have lost to Killian, who took pride of place at the top, another World Champion title under his belt at just twenty seven years old.

Neal Cassidy had finished third, but at over fifteen points behind Liam, he hadn’t even come close to the brothers success.

It was a whirlwind, everything happening so fast that when Killian got a call from Elsa one sunny afternoon at practice, he was more than unprepared from her words.

“It’s Liam.”

Killian’s heart had plummeted, the dread in him stomach rising to his throat and constricting his airway, his own anxiety strangling him where he stood on the blazing hot tarmac. He was thankful for the sunglasses he wore because they shielded the tears that had welled in his eyes, but they couldn’t hide the flush of heat that crept over his cheeks so they matched the colour of his team shirt. His words had the entire paddock looking in his direction, the strain in his screeching voice making every mechanic down their tools and listen, their own hearts in their mouths.

A near miss. That’s what the doctors had called it, but both Killian and Elsa had come far closer to losing what they loved most than they had ever wanted. Liam had been in a crash, on his day off no less, the car coming out of nowhere and him, unable to stop, flying over the hood and sliding into a concrete pillar. Luckily he was in his leathers and not travelling very fast, but his motorcycle was ruined, written off in the impact. The doctor’s had said Liam was only alive because of his race training on how to fall in a crash.

Coming so close to losing his brother was eye opening for Killian. He never wanted to hear Elsa cry like that again, or listen to the quake in her voice as she had told his eight year old niece that her father was never going to race again. Killian thought he detected a hint of relief in her voice, finally able to have her husband safe and in one piece, something he knew Elsa had worried about since Liam had moved to MotoGP. Moto2 was safe, it made sure he was home each night, even if they did live in a trailer for most of the year. MotoGP was more power, more accidents and more deaths each year than any other tier of the racing world.

Elsa worried for her husband constantly, and Killian had only ever wanted that. Not that he had anyone to wait for him. He wasn’t even dating. He had no time, very little to himself between racing, travelling and practice, sponsorship deals and photoshoots, but nearly losing Liam awoke something in him that even he couldn’t deny. It was time to stop sleeping around with pit girls, overzealous fans, and anyone else who wanted a piece of who he was. None of those encounters were real and Killian knew that if he had never been famous, they wouldn’t have even looked twice in his direction.

Liam had married his childhood sweetheart and Elsa had stuck with him through all of the good times and the bad. That was what Killian wanted. Someone to worry about him as much as Elsa did about Liam, someone to care, but also someone who knew his world, and respected his need to race. He needed to be on a bike. He was happy being last, even to Neal Cassidy, but Killian would never be happy without the sound of an engine in his ears and grease under his fingernails.

Liam retired just into the 2008 season, his professional racing career coming to an end because of the injuries he had sustained in his crash. He would get on a bike again, but he would never be cleared to race, and he was okay with that. At thirty two years old, he felt like he had missed enough of his daughter’s life, missing the little things that made his life worth living. Liam had missed Hayden-Rose’s first steps, her first words, and her first day of school. He wouldn’t miss a single moment more.

Barely two races into the season, with sixteen left in fifteen different countries, Killian was without a teammate. His team had been good to him, and he trusted their judgement, especially when they announced a new kid on the block as his new race partner. Will Scarlet was his name, another young up and comer from England that the team hoped would follow in Killian’s footsteps now that he had filled Liam’s.

Will Scarlet was a little cheeky, sometimes cocky, but he was willing to learn from a rider more experienced than him, and that was all Killian could ask for. Will’s arrogance worked to his advantage, in practice and during races. Unlike so many before him, Scarlet let go of everything he had ever learned climbing the race ladder, knowing the MotoGP was something else. It was where riders were made, where champions were born, but he also knew that if they didn’t listen, it was where riders died.

There was barely any sort of age gap between them, so Killian and Will really hit it off as friends. They had more in common than they realised at first, bonding over England and often getting lost in jokes only they would understand from their homeland. Will also met Liam, who since his retirement had been bitten by the bike bug once more, but having promised Elsa to never race again, had taken a job as the team’s mechanic. He knew more about the bikes than anyone, and his experience as a rider gave him a unique insight into how the bikes could be tweaked for maximum performance. Soon, the Jones-Scarlet team were unstoppable, and at the end of the 2008 race season, Killian stole yet another title from Neal Cassidy.

And again in 2009. 2010 saw him joined on the podium by Will, both riders finishing out their seasons in first and second place respectively. They were the ultimate riding duo, other teams trying to poach them at least twice a week, but Killian and Will were loyal to Honda, the team that had made them and giving them so many opportunities.

Things were good. But every good thing has to come to an end eventually.

#sparking the pavement #stp #prologue #moto gp #motorbike rider!killian #motorbike rider!emma #CS fic #CS au #CS FF

53 notes · View notes

airsafariblog-blog · 5 years

Text

Gold Rush Legacy & A Small Airplane, Summer 2017, Part I

It was not love at first sight. She was standing on the short cut grass in front of a one-story building and you could tell that she had been wandering the wild of the Canadian North for a very long time. I did not find much enthusiasm in her look at me either. And yet, toward the end of our two week romance, I called her Princess with all the passion of my heart.

She was a Cessna 172, born in 1975. The paint was peeling off at places I did not even know existed on an airplane. But, as many bush pilots would be quick to point out-paint is only an added weight that keeps you from pushing more useful stuff, like fuel, food or game, to the inside (or sometimes on the outside of, for that matter) of an airplane. What was lacking on the exterior was surely not made up for in the interior of the plane. To say her cabin was “ragged” would do a gross injustice to the term. Yet, what is vital for flying machine in the Canadian wilderness? The way it flies. And fly she did! Her aerial performance was impeccable. The propeller was squeaky clean, not even the tiniest chip, her climbing was fervent, mightily sucking on the air and, as I was later to find out, she was exceptionally humble when it came to drinking gasoline and oil. Princess was simply a marvel to fly and care for.

Before I was given a chance to explore her fine features, I had to get past Eric, her proud owner and devour guardian (hence the name of Eric’s flying outfit - Guardian Angel). I arrived exhausted in Prince George, where Eric’s office was located, after some thirty hours of travel, shortly before midnight. The trip from Europe reminded me a lot of the famous opening scene of the Dead Man motion picture by Jim Jarmusch.

Johnny Depp is heading West while observing in amazement how the nature of his fellow travelers transforms the further West he gets.

The flight from Munich to Toronto was filled with travelers carrying their flawless four-wheeled carry-ons, bags full of ethereal souvenirs, stunning fragrances and fashionable spirits, chatting delightfully on the board of a jazzy jet Boeing 777-300ER. People on the board of the less flashy Airbus A321 from Toronto to Vancouver seemed to be more down to Earth. The last leg from Vancouver to Prince George was to be flown over the jagged Pacific Coast Mountains by an eager turboprop Bombardier Q400. Climbing onboard I was bewildered by the composure and dignity that beamed through the coarseness of my new journey fellows.

Our approach to Prince George began with a gentle dive into the clouds just as the sun began to sink beyond the horizon - an amazing sight. Before that, I had a nice chat with a girl sitting next to me. It was all about bears, wildlife, First Nation, the sparse yet sufficient pub landscape in Prince George, rising homelessness and drug abuse and we were both taken aback by the beauty of the sunset.

Alas, my mind was not really there. It was deeply immersed in the thoughts about the undertaking that I had been dreaming about for the past three years and that seemed even more impossible now when it was about to begin. My original fancy was to rent a small airplane and to fly through Alaska. After quite some time it proved to be a no go. No one in Alaska was willing to let their precious machines being flown over some of the least hospitable and unforgiving places in the world, especially by some flat-landed European with zero mountain flying experience. It was nothing short of a miracle when we found our Guardian Angel, Eric’s flight school, operating out of Vanderhoof and Prince George (British Columbia) who actually considered lending us a Cessna, albeit “only” for flying in the Canadian, not the Alaskan, great wild.

In the months leading up to July 2017, I read all possible bush-flying and mountain-flying material I could find. I spent hours, days really, watching training videos and searching for the right articles. All these efforts helped me realize that mountain flying might be extremely rewarding, but you better stay away from it unless you have a lot of experience under your belt, which I did not.

Let us hear an expert here. Fletcher Anderson wrote one of the most comprehensive books on the subject (Flying the Mountains, McGraw-Hill Education): “Even on the very best of days, it involves considerably more than just normal flying over exceptionally scenic terrain. The aircraft’s engine develops only a fraction of its rated horsepower at high altitude...because the air is thinner, the wing needs greater true airspeed to develop adequate lift. The pilot may also suffer from lack of available oxygen at altitudes lower than required to clear the mountains. Steep and high terrain is hard to fly over. Weather conditions, which exceeded the operating capabilities of most small aircrafts are frequent, normal occurrences, and weather can change dramatically in minutes. In addition to mountains, Alaska has the obvious extremes of vast distances and poor weather from the nearby oceans and no roads (therefore, a small airplane is 40 per cent more likely to crash in the mountains than anywhere else). According to the National Transportation Safety Board, the aviation death rate in mountain states is twice that of the nation as a whole”.

What a chipper fellow.

Upon landing in Prince George, the cabin was filled with the smell of smoke from the distance wildfires across British Columbia - an eerie feeling. The city itself is a legacy of the sparse web of centuries-old trading posts of the North-West Company throughout the big northern void. Originally inhabited by First National people, proudly calling themselves “people of the confluence of two rivers” (Fraser and Nechako rivers, to be exact), Prince George of today is more of a confluence of roads connecting South British Columbia with North, Yukon and Alaska. Lonely Planet’s account of the city is not overwhelming flattering: “The downtown, no beauty-contest winner, is compact and has some good restaurants”. You also might want to know that there is a large paper mill that generates a very particular smell, which gives Prince George away for miles and miles. The smell is a neat aviation navigation beacon, as I was to learn the following year when flying through the dense wildfire smoke. I fell in love with the city instantly nevertheless.

Eric greeted me at the small and tasteful terminal building of Prince George airport. I thought I might simply go to bed as it was close to midnight and I just flew halfway around the world. Well, I was wrong. Eric was in full swing and after being done with my car rental we headed to his office at the airport to do the proper paperwork before mountain flying training and rental checkout procedures could start the next morning.

After I finally arrived at the Downtown Motel it was almost two in the morning. The motel did not try to conceal the fact that it is an affordable place to stay at. There was still quite a number of people hanging and wandering around the neighborhood with no apparent purpose, direction or place to stay. This was yet another signature feature of Prince George. In the next morning the next day, I got myself a large cup of cheap coffee at a gas station and was ready to get back to the airport.

At Eric’s office, we started a very thorough ground training just as two helicopters lifted off from a helipad nearby. “It’s all over the radio. There is a small plane missing, that is what they are after”, uttered Eric laconically. Those books on mountain flying were not lying, apparently. You can get into trouble around here.

No wonder my learning attention - which is usually not the strongest of my skills, whatever they may be - was laser-focused on every single word Eric shared with me.

How to cross the mountain range safely, how to turn in a tight canyon, how to do an emergency landed where there is no emergency landing spot available, how to read wind direction from the aspen trees and lakes, how the eagle never dodges in the air for it is you who needs to make the move, how to avoid prop strike on soft and gravel airstrips or how the weather changes in ways you can never predict.

In the afternoon, we took to the skies with one of Eric’s instructors. The first checkout flight was a rather serene affair - slow flights, steep turns, stalls, the usual stuff.

Later that same day I was assigned another instructor - Alex, a cheerful character and a splendid pilot. We started working on my navigation skills and emergency landing procedures. I truly was not at my peak, owing this slightly to the jetlag and to the fact that I was flying in a completely foreign environment, but I muddled through. Over Fraser Lake, we had a conversation about the First Nation people in Canada, specifically around Prince George, which was when I first gave a deeper thought to their touching fate. Not that I had much time for these contemplations because Alex made me start training spins.

A spin is essentially a stall that results in a downward autorotation of the airplane usually when a pilot does not heed attention to the aircraft speed or bank angle (or, usually, both).

To be able to recover from a spin is a crucial skill, even though one usually occurs during the initial or final phase of the flight when the airplane is slow and low and there is only limited, if any, space and time for a successful recovery.

With Alex, we were flying high above the lake and our Cessna just refused to spin, so good an aerodynamic little airplane it is. Or, let me put it more correctly - I was unable to spine her. Thus, Alex took the helm and pitched her high, banked a hard right and kicked in enough of the left rudder and with an excited exclamation “spin, bitch, spin”, she reluctantly did what was asked of her. After that, I was also able to make her spin and recover, and with the jetlag still hanging around, I started to feel a bit dizzy.

Yet, the training was far from over. Here comes the “graveyard spiral” part. Its name does not imply anything friendly - and it is not. A graveyard spiral is a dive that happens usually in bad visibility or at night when the pilot becomes disoriented and cannot see the horizon. Sadly, plenty of graveyard spirals are concluded with the airplane hitting the ground at a very high-speed with a very fatal outcome. What happens is that without the outside horizontal reference the pilot does not realize the airplane is banking and descending at the same time and pulls on the yoke in order to arrest the descent which only tightens the turn and, subsequently, the descent. We do not have to go into the details here, suffice to stay that the lesson is - always trust your instruments, not your gut feeling about your attitude and - more importantly - don’t ever get into a position that you have to deal with meteorological or visibility conditions that are beyond your abilities, training or rating. A year later, not too far from the very same spot we had trained to recover from the “graveyard spiral” I was to learn both of these points the hard way in the middle of choking and deliberating wildfire smoke. But we will get to that much, much later.

What to look for in Part II?

Eric makes me turn in a tight canyon without looking outside the airplane. How to land on a logging trail in the wild. My crew arrives - how to stuff three adults and tons of equipment into a small airplane and still expect it to fly? First night in the North - Dease Lake, sea-plane trip at Atlin Lake. The madness of the Gold Rush.

#adenvture #airsafari #travel #flying #canada #wild #aviation #thrill #theworld

2 notes · View notes

storyunrelated · 5 years

Text

Buying plants

I want to develop these things but I don’t think this is the right way to do it.

Gravel crunched as the car parked.

"Here we are, kids," Rose said.

"Thanks Rose," Tulip and Kipper chorused. Bef just grunted, which was as close to a thanks she could muster at that moment. The four then dismounted from Rose's rather battered Ford Focus.

The place they'd gone to wad a reasonably sized, reasonably old cottage just off of an A road with a fair whack of garden space, almost all of it taken up with plants in pots, sheds, and other customers all of whom were obviously witches.

Kipper, in fact, looked to be the only human there. Hell, the only boy there at all. Not that he appeared to mind or even notice.

"So what's the deal here? What are we doing?" He asked.

"Ingredients for things, getting some. Rose says this place is great and I've been meaning to come and it's a nice day so yeah, here we are. I have some ideas for things and they should have some of the stuff here," said Tulip, consulting the list she'd made. She'd done this all of the way there, too, checking it over and over, unsure if she'd missed anything off of it.

"Nice!" Kipper said.

"You're just standing there and following us around, that's what you're doing" Bef said.

"Cool. I can handle that that," said Kipper, giving a thumbs up.

He was there in the first place because they - Bef and Tulip - had told him they were going somewhere, and he'd followed. That he'd been told Rose would be coming too helped, but he had hardly been going to say no anyway. Generally this was how Kipper ended up anywhere.

So far it was a lifestyle that had worked out for him. Being friends with witches helped. They tended to go to nicer places than most. And they had the pointiest hats.

Kipper then frowned and turned to Bef.

"Wait, why are you here then?" He asked.

Unlike Tulip and Rose, Bef had very little need for ingredients as that sort of thing wasn't her particular wheelhouse. Bef did not make things, she deconstructed things, often forcefully and sometimes violently, excepting those times she was sculpting raw materials through sheer force of will alone. But those times didn't need herbs or dried roots.

She shrugged.

"I just wanted out of the house," She said, kicking a stone and sending it skittering across the gravel of the car park where it travelled in a line for a moment before curving around into a tight circle and then just continuing to do that at an ever-increasing speed. Bef grinned.

By then Rose had already gone off to look for her own items with Tulip following close behind, and while Kipper was trying to work out where they'd gone to Bef wandered away to go and buy cake from the attached coffee stall. When Kipper noticed this it was too late and she was gone, and he was adrift.

Not that he minded. They'd find him eventually, he figured, and before then he could see look at some magic plants, which could only be fun.

Or not.

Magically useful plants, much to Kipper's consternation, appeared much like regular plants. Indeed, many of them were just regular plants, kept on sale here as they also had some fairly useful magical properties as well and a witch going to a garden centre was a bit embarrassing.

Nothing bounced, whizzed, leapt or danced, which was kind of what Kipper had been hoping for. Instead, it was basically like every other place selling plants he'd ever been to in his life, only with more pointy hats.

At least the weather was nice.

It was while he was meandering and being disappointed with the plants that he spotted the girl behind the till. The girl looked bored, but that wasn't what caught Kipper's eye.

She had a pointy hat, which marked her out as a witch, but that was hardly a surprise given the nature of the place. She also looked to be around Rose's ages, likely one of the reasons she'd got Kipper's attention in the first place. But there was something else about her that Kipper just couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You want to come a little closer so you can stare a little better?" The girl said, jerking Kipper out of his reverie. He blushed and shuffled in close, specifically to apologise and not to stare better.

"Sorry," he said.

"That's okay, I get it a lot. Most humans don't apologise so you're already ahead. What are you doing here anyway? Did you wander in here by accident?" She asked.

Given that the place was situated by a major A road with no easy foot access this seemed highly unlikely.

"Oh, I'm here with my friends. They're witches. I'm just, uh, here with them, yeah, like I said. They're around somewhere. You're a witch, aren't you?" Bef asked.

The girl gave a lopsided grin.

"Did the hat give it away?"

This was a witch joke, but Kipper got it and gave a polite laugh.

"You're a lot shinier than what I'm used to," he said, again trying for politeness, unsure of how to broach the subject but burning with an intense curiosity he could not ignore.

He wasn't wrong. She had shiny bits all over, rather like circuitry in fact, and some parts of her just appeared to be straight-up cast from metal. Even her eyes were a little shiny. It was distracting.

"That'd be the cyberparts," she said.

"Ooh! What are cyberparts?" Kipper asked, his curiosity inflamed further.

"The bits that make a cyberwitch," she said. Kipper was ensnared now, without a hope of escape. He had to know more!

"Ooh! What's a cyberwitch?"

"A witch with cyberparts," she said, taking the wind out of Kipper's sails. She waited just long enough to watch him sag before laughing and carrying on: "It's not that complicated. Just, you know, you get a witch - me - and you decide to get some special parts put in. They help with the magic. Not exactly cheap but I know a guy."

"Help with the magic?"

"Yeah. Control, focus, that sort of thing. And I think they look pretty cool, don't you?"

Kipper nodded enthusiastically. The girl leaned in over the till, motioning for Kipper to do likewise. He did so.

"Also I got laser-eyes," she whispered, conspiratorially.

"Laser-eyes?"

"Yep. Magic ones. Pick up that stone there. No, the bigger one," she said, pointing. Kipper did as he was told and stooped momentarily before standing up again holding a stone.

"Hold it really, really still. And look up," she said, leaning further across the counter and squinting. A moment later there was a flash and a snap and the air heated up. Kipper held very, very still, looking up at the sky.

"There you go," the girl said, straightening and rubbing her face. Kipper looked back down again.

The stone now said 'Erin' on it in charred, smoking letters. Kipper assumed - correctly - that this was the girl's name. His face was a picture of awe.

"That's so cool," He gasped, his own eyes wide with wonder as he held the stone as though he'd been handed a sacred artefact.

“Humans are just so cute sometimes!” Erin said, reaching out and giving Kipper the lightest of boops on the nose. Kipper being Kipper and Kipper being softness given boy-shaped form, loved this and giggled appreciatively.

“These your friends?” Erin said, looking over and past Kipper and causing him to turn.

It was indeed. Rose, Tulip and Bef had come sauntering up behind Kipper while he'd been talking, laden with products. Rose had wisely chosen to get a trolley to put hers in, while Tulip was gamely and precariously balancing her own across her person. Bef, who had picked up a single cactus, was holding it in both hands.

"Making friends, Kipper?" Rose asked, smiling politely. This polite smile - combined with Erin's coolness - was enough to push Kipper even higher up the scale of happiness. He practically beamed.

"Guys guys guys this is Erin! She's a cyberwitch! She told me. Look! Look how shiny these bits are! Look at this stone! Uh, sorry for pointing at you like you're a cool thing, Erin," he said, apologetically. Erin shrugged.

"Well, I am pretty cool," she said.

"Yeah you are!" Kipper said.

They fist-bumped. It was unrehearsed and clumsy, but that they managed it at all was impressive.

"Can we pay for this?" Bef said, plonking down her cactus.

"Oh. Yeah. Sure," Erin said.

Exchange of money for goods followed, Kipper standing to one side as he had no part in any of it.

Rose and Erin seemed passingly familiar with one another, which was unsurprising given that Rose had apparently been to this place before. They shot the breeze while Rose passed the car keys to Tulip so that she, Bef and Kipper could start wrangling everything back to the car.

At this point Kipper started actually being useful, just about, as Tulip went off to use the facilities leaving it as just him and Bef to do the wrangling.

“Erin was nice, wasn't she?” Kipper asked as he wheeled the trolley across the gravel back towards the Focus.

“Hmm,” said Bef with an armful of plants.

“So cool, too. I didn't even know you could get cyberwitches! Did you know about that?"

"Yeah," said Bef. Kipper frowned. He could smell something fishy.

“I get the impression you don't like cyberwitches," he said.

Bef snorted and stopped, turning around, glaring.

“Fucking stupid name,” she grumbled to herself, casting dark glances back in Erin's direction before straightening up to actually answer Kipper. “No, no I don't like them. Their techniques are all wrong. I mean sure, they seem cool and they look flashy with all their shiny bits and their sparkles and whatever but they take away from your true sorcerous potential. It's cheapening! It's a shortcut. It's just avoiding hard work, and that hard work is usually a reward in itself. I don't like it.”

In actuality, this was something that Bef had been wanting to say for a while, though the suddenness of it left her words jumbled and she was dissatisfied with her delivery. A part of her felt she'd wasted chunks of a perfectly good speech on Kipper, who could not and would never be able to fully appreciate it.

“This is a witch thing, isn't it?” Kipper asked.

She gave him a withering stare.

“Yeah. Course it's a witch thing. What other kind of thing would it be?”

“No, I just mean so I probably wouldn't really get where you're coming from, would I?”

Not in a mean way, just in an unbridgeable gap sort of way. Kipper could - and did - empathise as much as possible with those friends he had who were able to tap into the mystical energies underpinning existence itself, but as he had no access to or true understanding of what these energies were like, his empathy lacked bite.

He tried, bless him, but he'd never really know.

"No, no you wouldn't. There's more to being a witch than shiny bits or being cool. It's serious, yeah? And people like Erin don't get that. Taking shortcuts, like I say. And I don't like that. You take shortcuts you miss important steps. I'm here taking every step and then you get people hopping over me and acting like they're cool. I don't like it."

Bef unlocked the car and started loading up, Kipper passing her objects from the trolley.

"She seemed nice to me..." He mumbled.

"Everyone seems nice to you, Kipper," Bef countered.

"Everyone is nice..." He mumbled.

Bef didn't see much point in replying to that one.

#What #hwitches #Amwriting #Writblr #Writeblr #Writing

3 notes · View notes

thedeviljudges · 6 years

Text

bc i’m an indecisive asshole, here’s what would be the first chapter to this fic.

tattoos on the ether

Steve looks up at a brightly lit pink neon sign and thinks what the fuck have I gotten myself into.

He knows, of course, exactly what the fuck he’s gotten himself into and wonders when he traded any form of rational he’d managed to maintain in that stupid brain of his for ideas of grandeur and open roads. Steve’s travelled a few times in his life, mainly vising what little family he has out of state, but diving head first into the unknown was a plan he sure as shit hadn’t thought through.

Excluding the Upside Down, of course.

Not like he has time to ponder the possibility of that mistake when his next thought bubbles up without warning, toeing the line of desperate and annoyance when Steve feels the growl of his stomach. He doesn’t think he craves the salty bite of another greasy burger; in actuality, the notion makes him want to throw up, but it’s all he’s got, and his body needs sustenance, and diner number seven doesn’t look as bad as it sounds.

That’s what he tries to tell himself ever since he left Hawkins, passing through the Midwest on a one-way ticket to hell because he realized, quite quickly, just how similar these parts of the country are akin to the standard textbook definition: boring with a side of corn fields and cows. Steve could complain, knows that every bone in his body is screaming that if he doesn’t move, they’ll twitch until numbness takes over. It’s the last stop for miles if the crumbled-up map near his feet is worth its salt, and Steve doesn’t think he can go another few hours without anything solid in his stomach. The junk food he’d purchased over the course of the journey has accumulated as a stock-pile of goodies in the backseat of the car. There’s still plenty of it for consumption, but Steve’s sweet tooth isn’t opulent and very much like a diner burger, the thought of eating another Twinkie makes his tongue dry, throat constricting.

The fact that his blood is not a solid stream of white sugar is a miracle in and of itself, really.

“So, are you paying, moneybags?”

Steve breathes deeply and refuses to look at the driver of the car – the car he chose to sit his ass in and leave his home for because he really is a fucking moron who thought that maybe an adventure had its merits. Turns out, all it’s left him with is sore muscles and little patience because sometimes Billy doesn’t know when to keep his fucking mouth shut.

Rolling his eyes, Steve slides his fingers over the latch on the door, waiting. “How long are you going to be mad at me for?”

In a quick reply, Billy shrugs. Steve sees it out of the corner of his eye, still refuses to look at Billy and his temper he’s settled in for over a day. “Dunno,” he finishes, leather jacket creeping past his neck as he stares Steve down with a petulant expression behind the reflection of his glasses. Steve doesn’t need to see Billy’s eyes to know that he’s unhappy with their affair, and Steve isn’t entirely happy to say that it’s all his fault.

But it sort of is.

“You didn’t plan on telling me about the couple grand you stashed away,” he says, refuses to watch Billy pull his shades down the bridge of his nose, far enough to look over the lining while blinking directly at Steve like he’s boring into his soul. He’s settled deep into his seat, knees stretched wide as if there’s any room in the car for such a position, but he waits, expectantly, for Steve to make amends with a particularly good explanation, one he’s definitely not going to get right now when he’s being stubborn, “so, I’m thinkin’ I’ve got a little while longer to keep you on your toes.”

Sometimes, sometimes Steve wonders why the fuck he bothered, why the absolute fuck he went along with Billy’s plan to get the fuck out of Hawkins, why he chose Billy to spend his time with – to sleep with, for god’s sake – because this is an unruly amount of absurdity. Steve knows Billy’s tendency to stew on his emotions until he no longer finds them valuable, and this, Steve thinks, needs to be nipped in the bud before they end up hurtling towards no return. “You’re so fucking ornery,” he says, the crook of his brow a statement of clarity - Billy’s not the only one unimpressed.

Their emotions, rising high like the tide, are mainly due to circumstances and cramped spaces, the car occupied by two persons for an extended period of time without reprieve from each other. It’s been a good lesson for Steve, if anything, that as much as he loves Billy, he definitely needs his space, space in which he hasn’t had for about a solid week since they started their journey with nothing but a few duffle bags and the clothes on their back.

Also, the stash of money Steve had hidden in his, but that’s beside the point.

“I really can’t believe I put up with you.”

Billy snorts, but a wolfish grin splits his face into childish pride. He slides the glasses right back onto his nose before straightening in his seat, and just like Steve, he curls his fingers around the door handle, not waiting for a prompt to crack it wide open so the heat of summer quickly fills the car. “Looks like someone’s picked up a dictionary lately.”

Steve feels it, the way his nostrils flare, the turn of his lips as they settle into a deep frown. He’s an idiot; he knows this, but the matter isn’t meant to be brought in between an argument. As best as he can, Steve ignores the comment and the curl of hurt in his chest, lips thinning as he shakes off the bullshit with a simple, “Go fuck yourself,” as he opens the car door. Long-limbed and lanky, Steve doesn’t exert himself as he peels himself out of the car, turning quickly to duck down and smile sarcastically at Billy who looks more than a little annoyed. “You can starve.”

The slam the door makes is satisfying, only an added bonus to his pent-up frustrations. Steve knows they won’t stay mad at each other for long, and he also knows that really, he’s in the wrong for what he’d done – mainly for what he didn’t do, but he thought it the best decision at the time, made it last minute and stressed himself out to the point of no return.

Lying to his partner had never been his modus operandi, but some decisions needed figuring out before they were exposed to the light, and unfortunately for Steve’s, his timing had run out long before he’d been ready. As much as he’s at fault, however, he also knows that Billy is, too. For not letting him explain, for shutting off his emotions until the only thing he could say were one word replies that left Steve drained, completely ready for sleep to take him. He’s glad, if anything, that they’re speaking to one another, although it’s with passive aggressive intensity. But somewhere deep inside, Steve also feels Billy’s lack of presence, that solid weight he’s grown accustomed to now hollow from the distance between them.

Steve is utterly fucked.

The gravel under his feet gives off a satisfying crunch every time he steps across the rocks. Steve approaches the diner, already smelling grease and salt and hopes that maybe a salad might be an option on the menu, if only because his organs are begging. Behind him, Steve hears Billy fumbling behind him, curses spilling from his lips as he grabs his keys and slams the door shut. He catches up to Steve easily without losing breath, and the sunglasses are gone, eyes narrowed in the light of the setting sun. “I didn’t mean that,” he says lowly, but Steve pays him no mind as he opens the diner’s door and walks inside.

As expected, Billy follows him to a booth like they’ve done since the start of their journey. If it weren’t for the deep shades of red all along the walls and booths, Steve might’ve guessed they’d been here before, same diner, same small town in the middle of nowhere. But this isn’t full of pastel colors, and the building is practically empty save for a booth in the very back filled with older women; the shuffling of bodies behind the counter feel like busy little ants, hoping for the day to be over.

“Yes, you did,” Steve says a few minutes later, refuses to let Billy off the hook for his insult, and fortunately, he has the decency to look embarrassed for the comment. Not that Steve even minds much anymore, accepted the fact that maybe there were some things that weren’t his forte and that yes, Billy was definitely much better at stuff than him, but it didn’t stop the pang of regret for not being what he should’ve been from the beginning.

Just like Billy has his own regrets for not being what he should’ve been either.

Steve really hates that they’re two peas in a pod, doesn’t understand why they lucked out with underhanded disciplinary figures rather than parents who should’ve-

“I didn’t,” Billy insists, cuts Steve away from the trill of thoughts he doesn’t need right now, hates that Billy’s words even affected him like they did. He sits directly across from Steve, but he doesn’t miss that look in Billy’s eye, the one that showcases his true intentions if he were only allowed that in public.

Steve bristles and tells himself that as soon as he eats and they leave, Billy will be his again.

Still, Steve’s slightly apathetic, but it’s at a lot of things and not just towards Billy. He thought- well, he didn’t exactly know what he thought, but he hadn’t expected their road trip to last this long, and he sure as hell hadn’t expected to get into any arguments with Billy either. In fact, he hadn’t planned on them playing forerunner to the second half of summer, but to be fair, Steve hadn’t planned on doing anything with his time to begin with, not with the looming notion that he’d have to make a choice about his future and soon because his father wasn’t the kind to give him an extension between choosing a college that would take him or finding a position within his father’s company. A simple nine-to-five job wasn’t so bad, Steve knew; it was respectable, and the benefits were good as got, but neither option appealed to the likes of Steve who didn’t know enough about the world or himself to make that kind of permanent decision.

At least, not as appealing nor as permanent as Billy’s offer had been when he’d asked Steve if he’d join him.

“You say what you mean,” he says, and it’s a quality that Steve, in any other circumstance, respects because Billy’s brash, and sometimes he doesn’t think before speaking, but at least he has the room to speak from his heart while learning to tame the bite of anger that’d held him hostage for so long. “And I appreciate that,” and he flicks his gaze to the other side of the building, over Billy’s shoulder where he spots a waitress on shift smacking gum, pulling out two menus that will surely end up at their table, “but you know why I did it, and more importantly, why I was waiting to tell you.”

Billy doesn’t look hurt, not anymore, but he does look a cross between wanting to be pissed and calm understanding. “So, you were going to tell me, then?” he asks resolutely, the vulnerability creeping into the tone of his voice.

It makes Steve’s gaze flicker back to Billy’s, the boy slouched in his seat very much like he was in the car, with one arm across the back of the booth, brow pinched like he’s gauging whether Steve’s fucking with him or not. The confusion itself is adorable, but Steve keeps that to himself, resolves that if he hadn’t known who Billy was, this would certainly be a sight to behold and how it’s about to become one as soon as he hears the clacking of shoes approaching.

Steve knows the setting is a disaster in the making, bites his tongue at the notion of jealously playing into the fine strings they’ve already pulled. Billy’s never been one to hide his shame, least of all when he gets what he wants with a thinly-veiled smirk, leaving Steve’s jaw clenched and mildly resentful in which Billy’s motions roll over from vulnerable to smooth.

Steve’s never held an ounce of it in his life, Kings Steve moniker be damned.

“Anything to drink?” the waitress asks as she finally appears. She looks bored, absolutely dull until she eyes Billy, and Steve rolls his eyes the moment the tension dissipates into something too charged for his liking.

“I’ll ha-”

Steve kicks Billy’s ankle, effectively shutting him up as he politely addresses the woman. “We’ll have water. Thanks.”

She looks between them, probably feels the awkward subtlety that makes itself known as neither Steve nor Billy add another word to the request. Luckily, and as Steve keeps smiling, she leaves the menus and trails off behind the counter to grab their drinks.

“Listen, I don’t know what the fuck crawled up your-”

“We’ve lived on caffeinated beverages for nearly a week now,” Steve insists, voice harsh against the backdrop of relative quiet. He’s not angry, per se, just annoyed about a lot of things, and one of them is the lack of sleep that pulls shades of purple and blue and heavy under his eyes. He’s sure if he found a mirrored surface, he’d notice the discoloration tethering him to the discontent that suddenly hits him twice fold. He doesn’t want to be here, and he doesn’t feel like arguing anymore. What he wants is food and a place of rest that isn’t a lowered seat in the car. “Do me a favor; humor me.”

Billy breathes deeply, agitation painted clearly across his brow, so different from the smile he’d given the woman who took only half their order. The cocky demeanor loses itself the longer they sit in silence, the longer the subject of their animosity remains unresolved. Billy turns his attention to the menu like he hasn’t seen the exact same offerings everywhere else, and suddenly, Steve feels bad, the curve of Billy’s shoulders falling as he keeps to himself. It’s so unlike him that Steve reaches out, hesitantly scanning their surroundings before brushing his pinky across the back of Billy’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

It’s weighted, that word. Not just for his behavior but for the incident at large. It makes Billy sigh, finger twitching underneath Steve’s touch. He doesn’t pull away nor swat at Steve like he’d once done back in Hawkins when Steve attempted affection under the harsh lights and scrutinizing townsfolk that would’ve surely called their bluff.

“For treating me like a child?” Billy proposes, but just like Steve, his tone is cracked with unrest.

With his free hand, Steve runs his fingers through his hair, attempting to pull the longer pieces away from his face. It hardly works, and he needs a trim, but that won’t happen ‘til they get where they’re going. So, the best thing he can do is let his hair do what it wants while he attempts to fix what he’s broken. The thought of them snipping at one another for another few days leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “For that and the other thing.”

Billy finally looks up at Steve through his lashes, fanned out and dark across the skin below his eyebrows. It startles Steve sometimes just how breathtakingly beautiful Billy is when he’s free of annoyance, of any lingering emotions that hardens his gaze, his body, and more importantly, his heart. Steve may not always recognize the plethora of emotions that crosses Billy’s eyes while they stare at one another, but he does identify that susceptibility in them and thinks how lucky, how lucky he is that Billy trusts him that deeply.

It’s not as if he doesn’t know he’s fucked up because Steve does, but it hits him again like freight train, and if he wants this fixed between them, it has to happen now. Not later, not tomorrow. Now. So, Steve pulls himself together, and he says, “I wasn’t trying to lie to you.” They may be on the cusp of adulthood, but neither of them are children, and if they’re going to make this work, then Steve has to get used to open and honesty as he’d begged Billy to be with him once before. “I knew you wouldn’t react,” he pauses, unsure of admitting what he really thinks; it’s not unlike Steve to have his own faults – he really is missing a screw or two – but under the concern of money, Billy’s never accepted the kindness when offered, “favorably.”

After the waver of confusion, Steve expects Billy to say something rigorous, always a smart mouth when he’s keyed up over whatever’s pissed him off. Instead, Steve glances down at their hands as Billy flips the script, releasing the menu and shifting so that Steve feels the brush of fingers against one of his knuckles. “You’re sure that’s it?”

A constricting chest is not what Steve had in mind in lieu of his many other emotions, but it seizes him anyway, that choked off feeling he gets when he wants to cry. Sometimes simple reassurances aren’t enough, but Steve hopes that maybe one day they’ll get there. “I didn’t take the money because I can’t live without it, Billy,” he says because that’s the truth. Sure, part of him knows he’ll feel stifled stress in a few months’ time when the money he’d procured from his father’s office, the green that’d ultimately landed in his duffle, runs dry. By then, it’ll be meager earnings from whatever source of income they procure as survival, but the notion hadn’t stopped Steve from saying yes to Billy. It still doesn’t make him backpedal, eager to return to Hawkins as soon as the Camaro rolls towards the nearest bus stop.

Steve’s lived with money all his life, never had to want for naught, and the differences between him and Billy are as wide as the Grand Canyon, but Steve also knew just how easily he could, and did, give it up for something he knew was so much better. Billy hadn’t made him any promises, and Steve didn’t expect them. The road ahead had always been bumpy, but Steve knew he had the ability to make it a little less so. “I took it because I knew you didn’t have a plan. Not a full one anyway.”

Which is the truth of the matter. The thick bruises around Billy’s collar bones are proof enough of that; same as the deep cut across his shoulder, the desperation in his eyes when he’d knocked on Steve’s door at eleven in the morning with nothing more than his car and a packed bag. “My parents won’t miss it,” he continues, and that may or may not be the truth either. Steve’s sure they’ll notice, hopes they’ll find the note he left because at least he had the decency not to let them believe he’d disappeared without a trace.

But aside from that, they’ll think him ungrateful, at the very least, where he’ll call back home and talk to his mother, set the record straight that he’s doing what he should’ve done ages ago. His father will be angry; he’s sure of it, but his mother will forgive him and ask him to visit when he can. “I’d rather be prepared so we’re not sleeping in another shitty motel, or god forbid, your cramped car,” he says, and he swears he sees a grimace on Billy’s face, though brisk as it may be. “We’ll have enough for a place, a roof over our head until we can figure out what to do.”

The clacking of heels follows Steve’s admission, giving him enough time to retract his hand, sitting back in his seat while Billy bites his lower lip in contemplation. Two glasses of water, filled to the brim with ice, are placed before them, and when the waitress asks if they’re ready to order, Steve gives her a gentle smile this time, lacking force and hostility he hadn’t really meant before. She seems to take it in kind, smiling back as she stuffs her hands into the pockets of her apron.

“Eggs and bacon,” Steve says, going on to add, “for the both of us. Thank you.”

And when she leaves, Steve trails his finger through the condensation melting off his glass, giving Billy time to rove through Steve’s words like he might find fault with them. Before, when he’d found the money, he’d hardly given Steve the chance to explain, nostrils flared and color filling his cheeks when he’d asked what the fuck is this, Steve?

“I wasn’t thinking when I told you I was leaving,” Billy eventually says, catching Steve’s attention. He’s not looking at him, though, as he confesses his errors, staring out of the window at the lull of the highway just off in the distance. There’s only a few cars that pass given they’re in the middle of practically nowhere, but some roll on by, eighteen wheelers on their heels. “But it was better than the alternative.”

The alternative sends a shiver up Steve’s spine, knows for a fact that Billy has difficulty expressing the intricacies of his home life, or what it once was. Previously, an utterance made bold through liquid courage had been enough for the both of them, for Steve to understand the implications and that bruises in the shape of fingers aren’t just earned; they’re given out freely under every pretense imaginable. False ones included.

“I don’t fault you for that,” Steve says solemnly, hopes that Billy doesn’t regret the decision he’d made by asking Steve to come with him because he doesn’t regret following. Despite their cramped conditions, the long drives, and whatever station they sparsely transmit through the radio, leaving Hawkins without looking back has provided Steve with a new sense of self, an undercurrent of freedom and excitement that his hometown had never given him before.

It’s like he can properly breathe for the first time, and Steve knows that Billy feels the same way, too.

“That’s what I do, Steve, what I’ve always done.” Billy shrugs, the click of his tongue on the heel of sarcasm, a retrospective look of near defeat as he forgoes their usual address for something more meaningful. Like Billy’s purposefully tapping into the ether of his heart, wants Steve to understand the desperation that sent him on a voyage back to the only place he could ever call home. “I figure shit out.”

It makes sense, the life of one Billy Hargrove akin to a tornado that stirs up as much trouble as it finds him. Steve can’t imagine the lack of stability, of having to navigate the floorboards and delicacies of words. But Steve also understands Billy’s point, that having resorted to a weighted lightness has only left him in a peculiar spot, the drive amid instinct and survival. No plans had been made with a knock against wood, and somewhere, hope always existed because Billy’s always been savvy on his own.

On his own. By himself.

Steve sucks in a breath, sharp and meant to draw Billy back to him, and it works. Billy’s blue, blue eyes, illuminated by the sun through the window, rest upon Steve in a heartbeat. Briefly, he wonders what Billy sees, how Steve looks in day old clothes, hair free of any product aside from water and the small bottles of shampoo and conditioner they’re gifted every night. It hardly matters, though, Steve leaving behind someone he used to be, someone he used to know, and surely, the same can be said for Billy.

“Not anymore,” he says, resilient in nature as he pushes the point that loneliness will haunt no further. The apologies, and whatever else he’d planned on saying, drift into the air like floating feathers, catching Billy by surprise and belatedly, with understanding.

It takes a moment, but only that, for Billy’s resolve – the one he’d always had buried beneath as a contingency - to smother itself into fragmented pieces. Steve watches as it cracks and bleeds, the fine lines between Billy’s brow, and the ones near the corner of his mouth, smooth away.

For the first time, Steve thinks this is truly a new beginning.

It takes the serving of their food for the spell to break, but even then, Steve feels whatever unspoken conclusion they’ve come to just underneath his skin, buzzing with delight and warmth.

And it’s not until they’ve cleaned their plates, Steve pulling out a few bills to pay for their meal, that Billy eyes him, the check, and the moment the waitress carries it all away.

“Not anymore,” he says quietly, and this time, Steve knows Billy believes it.

#harringrove #x

19 notes · View notes

mostfacinorous · 7 years

Text

FIRST LINES MEME

Tagged by @veliseraptor to share the first lines from my ten most recent fics!

(I am going by most recently updated.) 1. Little Talks co-written with @portraitoftheoddity The rush of stepping between worlds never got old, and the adrenaline that came along with it powered Loki through any nerves that might otherwise have manifested on his way into the lower branches of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s headquarters. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going, the place only ever glimpsed through the eyes of others and accessible to him only through memories of memories. But it seemed to him that the more secret, the deeper these mortals were likely to bury it. And so he made his way, as silently and innocuously as possibly, further down the spiraling labyrinth of heavy doors and sidestepped scanners. Until he got stuck.

2. Let’s Talk Shop “Ever since the merger, the guy’s been grating on my last nerve. But I can’t fire him; he’s one of our strongest performers, and we inherited his five year contract.” Nick sounded resigned, but still angry. “What does he do that’s so grating?” Steve asked. He’d interacted with Loki, and found him… polite, if cold. And maybe a little full of himself. But none of that seemed to be worth the level of complaints Steve had been getting about him. “He’s disdainful, he’s proud, he tries to take control of any project I put him on, he doesn’t know how to work with anyone-- hell, I put him on his own brother’s team, hoping that Thor would help dislodge the stick up his ass--” Steve lifted an eyebrow and glared, and Nick had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. “Sorry. Figure of speech.” “Or the start of a workplace harassment suit, if he feels like his job might be at risk.”

3. Give Up the Ghost He wasn’t lonely. He didn’t get lonely. He’d developed an immunity to that a long time ago. He was alone, certainly, but that was fine. It meant he could be left to his own devices, left to his notes and trials of various new uses for old magics, new ways of bending his power, new shapes to bend it into. He may not have been a fighter, but he more than made up for it with his abilities. It was just a matter of honing them. And that was what he was doing, the first time he created it. Called it. Summoned it.

4. Second Chances; New Beginnings “Things get bad for a while. Then you folks start popping up, we figure out who you are, toss you together, and things get good again. Until you die.” Fury was looking out at them over his steepled fingers. “Seems like a pretty raw deal for us, though, doesn’t it? I mean-- my life’s kind of on a track right now.” The guy who spoke, Tony, was slouching low in his chair, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on top of his fashionably dishevelled hair. “Problem with that is, you talk like you think you have a choice. You think I’m offering this to you? Hell, if I got to choose, I wouldn’t pick a bunch of kids for starters. Wouldn’t decide to bestow powers on those three-- they look like they each wish they could claim a corner to stand in. And I sure as hell wouldn’t choose some entitled little shit to protect Earth, but here we are. You’re Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Congratulations.” Fury stood, looking around at what he had to work with. He didn’t seem overly impressed.

5. There’s a Spark Loki'd been on Earth for a couple of years, now. Or at least, he'd been regularly causing havoc on Earth-- usually in New York-- for that long. That wasn't the same thing, necessarily, Steve realized. Not when even Asgard couldn't lock him up or shut down his abilities to travel. It'd been odd though, the way things had sort of tapered off on his end. He hadn't killed anyone in over a year. Hadn't made any grand demonstrations of power, forced people to kneel or sing his praises-- less ego mania, less appearances overall. Heck, the last time they'd seen him, he'd shown up in the Avengers' living room with a box of kittens. Mind you, those had all been high level mob bosses before they were kittens, but the point remained. The guy wasn't exactly pulling big schemes these days.

6. Thin White Lines “What is this, Thor?” Steve's voice broke through the hubbub from his other teammates when Thor appeared, his brother in tow. He was on a lead-- and the image didn't sit particularly well with Steve, but neither did the one of Loki running amok and potentially destroying New York. Again. “Asgard's laws of recompense.” Thor spoke with an almost hesitant gravity. “Which are what?” Natasha asked, words somewhere between sharp and drawled. Steve shot her a grateful look; she, unlike Tony and Clint and Bruce, seemed to be in the game and not just reacting. Not that he could blame them, but it was nice to have a solid voice of reason standing next to him. “Loki's crimes against Midgard are great enough to warrant his death. The laws of recompense allow him to do what he can to reverse his damage and lighten his sentence accordingly. He will, of course, be punished for the lives he took, the damage which is irreversible, but for the rest--” Thor broke off, looking hopeful. “If you will allow it, we may save my brother. My friends, I would not ask this of you if I had another choice.”

7. I Know No I It wasn't as though he was innocent in all of this. It wasn't as though the damages done to his body, mind, and powers made him somehow magically absolved of his guilts and wrong doings. All it did was make at least one of his brother's friends less likely to pulverize him at the first glimpse. When he'd woken in the vibrant light and starch whiteness of the S.H.I.E.L.D. Hospital room, he thought he was in some new level of hell. There were tubes in his arms, wrapped to his fingers, and so much of him was encased in such heavy material that he thought, for a moment, that his captors put too much faith in old wives' tales about the powers of iron to bind magic. Until he realized that they were cloth, and even being so slight a substance, they were too heavy for him to lift. Only then did the panic fully settle into his chest, and the monitors at his side began shrieking their shrill mechanical chimes. He knew where such technology resided, and immediately knew where he was and why he was there. He was on Midgard. And he was weak and broken, devoid of his immortal strength, and so filled with a distant dull pain and so dull of wit that he knew he must be under some sort of sedation. He was mortal, and most likely abandoned here by Odin's decree. After all, mortals do not belong in Asgard. They have people here to tend for their sick, their invalids. Everyone knew Odin’s stance on his son’s intended. He assumed as much was true for his false son, as well.

8. What a Lovely Day Humans were incredible things. They always had been. Exposed to pain constantly for long enough, they could become used to it, accepting of it, to the point where they forgot what it was like to not be in pain. The same could be said of the hum and the vibrations of the bike beneath him. He knew that once, back when he’d first stumbled across this old Indian, it had seemed too loud, too rough. Now, though, he forgot about it, forgot that he’d known no noise other than it and the occasional crunch of his own footsteps over the crust of the dirt. Forgot that, once, he had been able to get from one place to the next within a single afternoon, on real roads, even gravel roads, that didn’t kick up dust and coat his throat. He deserved the discomfort though, because of what he couldn’t forget. Because he knew that he was responsible for this. Humans were incredible things. But even with as modified as he was, as strong as the good doctor and Stark could make him, there were a few pains that he could never quite come to terms with. Not the physical ones. But the Misery. The guilt. He was meant to save people, to inspire hope. Once, he had tried to let himself be that. Tried to give himself that, to make it his mission… now he stayed as far from people as possible. The hope in their eyes felt like knives, and not seeing it there felt like failure.So he was left with himself, his thoughts, his guilt, and the rattle of his bike. And this wretched heat that made his back stick to the back of his own shirt. He wasn’t driving aimlessly, though. There had to be one person who didn’t see him as the statue without a pedestal. He had to have survived. That was what Bucky did, was survive. He’d lived through ice, and years, electricity being poured into his brain. Lived through abuse and assignments and assassinations... surely he lived through some sand, some heat. He was out there, somewhere, wandering the great waste, and every gleaming light on the horizon made Steve’s mouth firm a bit. He hunkered down against the bike, tucking his face behind his shield, which he’d mounted at the front-- no longer bright colors, now just a dust collector, stripped of all its grandeur. Like the Earth. Like him.

9. Wish Upon A Star “It is heavy and uncomfortable.” He wasn’t complaining. He was just… stating the obvious. Even as he pushed a finger between the strap on his neck and his skin, trying to adjust the helmet so that it did not drag so. He had to raise his voice to be heard, had to lean forward and angle his head so that his mouth was close enough to the man before him to be audible over the drone of the engine and the roaring of the wind around them. “You trying to tell me that two feet of metal horns is lighter than a faceless motorcycle helmet?” There was no mistaking the amusement in his companion’s voice, and Loki scowled and crossed his arms, tightening the grip he had on the other man with his knees and thighs. Horses, he’d been told, were out of style on Midgard.He wasn’t certain that he liked this better. In fact, he was fairly certain that he didn’t like this very much at all.

10. What Would I Give At Bucky's funeral, Steve stood stock still, certain that if he moved, if he turned, if he so much as reached a hand up to brush away the tears that were still falling, he would shake apart. He'd always known Bucky would die being a hero, but he'd always figured they'd go together-- it would be because of something he did. The lack of guilt when that turned out not to be the case didn't make anything easier, though.There was no casket, because there was nothing to bury. Bucky had been lost at sea. He'd tried begging him to enlist in the reserves, or the army, or the air force. Steve had spent his entire life afraid of the sea, and if he hadn't already been weak and sickly and unable to enlist because of it, he still wouldn't have been able to follow his friend. At the time, he'd wondered if maybe that wasn't the point. But on his leaves, it became obvious that Bucky legitimately loved the ocean, loved being out on it and all the workings of the ships he served on. Steve felt happy for him, glad that his friend was doing what he loved. But he missed him, too. He'd only been out for eight months when the letter came in. There had been a man overboard, and Bucky went after him. Neither of them were recovered, and at the time of the writing, the other man had not been identified. Maybe a stowaway or the survivor of some other ship's misfortune, but not one of their own. How like Bucky, didn't matter who it was, if he was around, he felt like it was his job to save them.

#Writing meme #that writing thing I do #I don't know who to tag???#If you want my tags take them please #MCU #ok so AU where...#I'm not even gonna bother explaining #if you're curious you can go look for yourself.

5 notes · View notes

imagineclaireandjamie · 7 years

Note

Lord!!!' I am so in love with The Gateway!!! Thank you for this AU. It is so magnificent. I cannot wait for the next installment. Thank you. This blog is my jam. You all rock!

anonymous asked:

I am eagerly waiting for The Getaway! I love it!

anonymous asked:

Loved the latest Getaway. Those crazy kids.

diversemediums asked:

Could we get another installment of The Getaway please?

anonymous asked:

Any plans to continue The Getaway?

Wrapping her large scarf around her neck, Claire waited in the draughty bus station walking from end to end as she tried to decipher the local routes. Hungry and cold, it’d been just over two days of heavy travelling and the extended journey was beginning to take its toll on poor Claire.

“Ma’am...madam?” Calling out, the conductor waved his hands in front of Claire’s face as she shuddered and focused her energy back onto the poor man who was trying to give her advice.

“S-sorry, what did you say?” she returned, blinking the haze away as she rubbed her hands together in the frigid station.

“The next bus, miss, it’s ready to leave in five minutes from stand two, alright?”

Nodding her head, she glanced the length of the building, her chest constricting as she faced the prospect of finally reaching her intended destination. The whole way here she’d been convinced of her decision, certain that Jamie’s presence would fix the fear that had taken root deep in her bones the moment her suspicions had been realised.

But now, being so close to fulfilling that desire, Claire wondered if she was putting too much pressure on poor Jamie.

“Thank you,” she whispered to the kind gentleman as he tipped his hat and turned on his heel in the opposite direction.

Walking towards the waiting bus, Claire clenched her hands together, trying desperately to warm her frozen digits.

Sitting on the cheap plastic flip-down seats, Claire settled herself, pulling her full rucksack from her shoulders and resting it at her feet. There would be another bus along in thirty minutes, and she’d rather give herself that extra time to settle the uncertainty that was now bubbling inside her belly than set off in such a state.

“Ye look fair fashed, wean…” came a small voice to her left as Claire twisted her head to look at her mystery friend.

Sat on the bench beside her, an older lady sat, her knitting abandoned in her lap as she bent her head to the side, appraising Claire with a kind look in her eyes.

“Ye love him, aye?”

Shocked, Claire jumped a little as the words hit her.

Forced into a corner, there was nothing to say but an honest reply.

“...yes, and I’m about to ruin his life,” she almost choked out, her throat pulsing in time with her pounding heart.

There it was. The facts in black and white.

It wasn’t that she didn’t think Jamie would stand by her, that he wouldn’t do all he could to be her rock --hers and the baby’s.

But the crux of the matter was just that, whatever his plans for the future, she was about the stride into his life and tear them all down.

True enough, they were both responsible for what had happened. But Jamie had been a gentleman. He would have waited. He had forced her to actively contemplate what they’d been committing themselves to and she had thrown caution to the wind.

“I can see the cogs turning, lassie,” the lady broke in, snapping Claire from her maudlin thoughts. “And afore ye dig yer own grave and cover yerself over in the dirt, let me tell ye something…”

Raising her brows, Claire turned herself fully to face her new friend and relaxed her tense shoulders, thankful for the distraction.

“It isne just yers to take on, ken?”

Wetting her lips with her tongue, Claire blinked slowly before speaking. “H-how? Do you...is it obvious?” she stuttered, assuming the lady had guessed her predicament just from the look of her.

“I’m a mother, wee one…and yer rubbing your belly unconsciously, my dear.” Winking, she smiled pleasantly as she picked one stray knitting needle from a bag filled with wool and looped the long scarf-like material around the fresh metal.

“It was an accident, I’ve only just finished my exams.”

“--and ye dinna want an abortion?” The woman asked, playing devil's advocate with Claire’s emotions as she watched the horror play out on her face.

“No...no, I...that was never. No.” Claire returned, absolute certainty lacing her strong words. “She’s a part of me now, I couldn’t do it. Even if he sent me away.”

“Go to him, darling girl. Yer brave, I can see it in yer face. You are here, and ye didna spring it on him over the phone. Whatever ye feel inside,” she continued, standing as she repacked her small wool bag, brushing her short gray hair behind her ears, “going to him is the right thing. I believe in ye.”

Brushing passed Claire, she handed her a small piece of paper with a number written on it in beautiful cursive script.

“I had my son at seventeen, out of wedlock. My husband, the man who fathered my son, he was devastated that I hadna thought he would step up. We were married soon after and not a day goes by that I dinna think how much easier it would ha’ been had I just allowed him to bear some of the burden from the beginning. Trust me, dearie, I ken.”

Tapping her nose, she rested her bag over her arm and shuffled off in the direction of the exit, leaving Claire alone once more.

Folding the tiny strip of note paper, Claire slid it into her jeans pocket just as the next bus pulled into the bay and opened its doors.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled the last of her change and picked up her rucksack. Taking a deep breath she stepped onto the bus and paid her fare before sitting in the closest seat, her knee jiggling up and down as the engine idled, the constant whirring keeping her grounded.

Finally, the doors slammed shut and the driver reversed, the bus leaving the safety of Inverness behind.

Taking her book from the side pocket, Claire busied herself, hardly paying attention to the beautiful scenery as they began to pass along the length of Loch Ness.

It would be nearly an hour before she arrived in central Beauly, and then she’d have to find her own way to Lallybroch.

The kind man in the bus station had assured her the big Fraser house wasn’t too far from the main stop in the middle of the small village. But until she got closer, she decided not to add another worry to her ever expanding list.

It was nearly midday by the time the little passenger bus reached Claire’s intended destination, and the driver had to purposefully stop to remind her that she had arrived.

Thanking him, she slung her backpack over her shoulders once more and typed in the address to google maps on her phone.

The automated voice read out the directions in her computerised voice as Claire wandered slowly along the main road before turning off when instructed. Her battery was low, but with any luck, she’d have her bearings before it completely died on her.

As it was, luck was on her side and just as the phone beeped to signal its near demise, Claire saw the large sign for ‘Broch Tuarach; Lallybroch’ pinned to a small hand-built wall.

Holding tightly to the straps of her bag, Claire began the meandering walk up the long drive, the sound of her feet crunching against the smattering of gravel keeping her on task.

As the familiar arch came into view, she slowed her pace, her eyes darting here and there as if anyone of the Fraser’s might suddenly appear before she’d had chance to solidify her thoughts and prepare herself.

“Pull yourself together, Beauchamp,” she chastised herself, her words floating off into the surrounding trees as she passed under the arch, “you can do this.”

Clattering rang out from the kitchen, the sound of dishes being washed coming from the open windows as Claire stood in front of the large wooden door. She could hear Ellen humming, the light airy song drifting through the air as she finally knocked, her mouth dry as a bone.

Waiting for someone to open up and let her in seemed to take an age, and by the time the door had begun to open, Claire had all but zoned out.

Ellen’s eyes grew wide as she saw her best friends daughter huddled on her stoop, a large bag filled to the brim hanging from her right shoulder.

Claire looked bedraggled.

Before Ellen could muster the words to ask how she’d travelled here from Oxford, Claire and dropped her rucksack and launched herself into her arms, clinging tight as she buried her face into Ellen’s neck.

“Och, Claire lassie...wha--” she began as she rubbed her hands over Claire’s back. It was as she pulled her off the step and into the main hallway that she felt it, the slight protrusion of Claire’s belly against hers. A sure sign of the babe that grew beneath her almost-daughter’s skin.

“Oh...my…” she muttered, the air leaving her lungs in a massive gust as she swayed Claire from side to side, taking in the unspoken truth of what had actually possessed Claire to make her way to their little home.

Claire said nothing.

Certain that Ellen knew exactly what was going on, she simply accepted human contact for the first time in a while, basking in the closeness she so desperately craved.

“Is he at school?” Claire whispered, her words muffled in Ellen’s woolen jumper.

“Aye, my dear. He is. Dinna fash though,” Ellen replied, her heart breaking for poor Claire; who’d obviously endured so much on her own, “I’ll make ye some willow-bark tea and run ye a bath, how does that suit?”

Stepping away, Ellen held onto Claire by the shoulders with one hand and let her other rest gently against her tear splattered face, her eyes soft and warm.

“I s-should have called, I should have--” Claire began, the words falling from her lips so quickly that Ellen almost didn’t catch the underlying meaning.

“Nay, Claire,” she broke in as she realised why Claire was werriting, “ye did the right thing. Yer alright. This is your home, a leannan, always.”

Nodding, Claire hiccuped and swallowed the last of her apologies, her heart finally calming as Ellen walked her into the sitting room and removed her coat for her.

“Now, do ye want to talk?” Ellen asked, a soft kindness in her voice as she sat next to Claire, holding her cool hands between her warm ones and rubbing her fingers gently.

“I do,” Claire replied, a tiny burst of life fluttering in her stomach as the first feelings of joy began to flow through her veins.

‘I’m going to be a mother.’ She thought, the image of a tiny baby with Jamie’s vibrant red locks appearing before her very eyes just as the feeling subsided and she shook her head.

“But I want to tell Jamie first...please.”

A small smile tugged at Ellen’s lips as she clenched Claire’s hands between her own.

“O’ course, Claire. But I have to ask,” Ellen finished, a glint of happiness sparking behind her eyes, “my darling girl, have ye told yer mam and da that yer here wi’ us?”

Letting her eyes fall to her lap, Claire shook her head. “No, but I can phone them now. It wasn’t that I was a coward, Auntie Ellen, I promise,” she pleaded, her words clear now as let all the anguish leave her system, fatigue taking root in her bones, “but you must understand-- I needed Jamie to hear it from me first.”

Chuckling, Ellen plucked the landline handset from its charging spot and passed the device to Claire.

“That I do, Claire. But now ye must tell them. And all o’ it, ye ken?”

Nodding, Claire began to key in the number of her father’s mobile, her sweaty fingers slipping on the plastic keypad as it started to ring out.

“I’ll be right here,” Ellen whispered, as she crept out of the large sitting room, closing the door behind her until it sat nearly level with the frame.

Taking a deep breath, Ellen listened only for a moment to ensure Claire had reached Henry and Julia before returning to the kitchen for the tea.

Looking out of the window, she gazed down the drive as the clouds began to lower, a soft pattering of rain falling and speckling the clean windows.

“Grandma Ellen,” she muttered, her fingers rapping against the marble countertop, her eyes watering at the prospect. “A wee bit young, weans,” she continued, a grin spreading across her mouth as she pictured Claire holding an infant as she paced in front of the fireplace in the lounge. A stunning image to be sure. “A bit young, aye. But no less perfect.”

Waiting for the kettle to finish its whistling, Ellen poured the boiling water into two cups before straining the decoction of willow-bark through the small infuser, swishing it around in each mug and watching as the faint traces of purple and brown swirled in the heated liquid.

Looking up at the ceiling, Ellen closed her eyes for just a moment and placed her palms together, an almost silent prayer falling from her lips as the family scene disappeared from her subconscious.

“Dear Lord,” she began, unaware of Claire as she peeked into the large kitchen, her eyes fixed on Ellen, “take care of them. Of Jamie, Claire and baby.”

Leaning her head against the wood, Claire smiled at Ellen’s words, the depth of the Fraser matriarch’s feelings for her warming her blood as she stepped backwards and returned to the sitting room.

This journey, she reasoned, would not be an easy one. But with the support of Jamie’s parents --and her own-- she was certain they would all prosper.

Secure in the knowledge that she had Ellen’s blessing, Claire tucked her legs under the throw on the sofa and closed her eyes, the effect of forty-eight hours on the road finally catching up to her as she dozed off.

“Sleep well, beautiful Claire,” Ellen sing-songed, pulling the blanket around her shoulders as she snuck back into the room and kissed her god-daughter on the forehead lightly, “dream sweet dreams, Sorcha…our fair English rose.”

#Anonymous #;Mod MBD #The Getaway #Teenage Jamie and Claire AU #teenage pregnancy

200 notes · View notes

imaginebeatles · 7 years

Text

Art and Obligation | Chapter 19

Pairing: John/Paul

Rating: Nc-17 (PG-13, for this chapter)

Set in: 1820s (au)

Summary: John Lennon works as the apprentice of a well-known portraitist and is tasked to do the picture of the young Mr. Paul McCartney. He is the son of Jim McCartney, a wealthy and powerful landowner, and has the reputation of an arrogant, spoilt brat with a pretty face, who has a way of wrapping anyone around his finger. But soon John finds that things are not as straightforward as they may seem.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles and this is fictional. I do not make money off this.

Author’s note: Surprise! Finally after ages and ages of waiting the next chapter has finally arrived. Thank you everyone for being patient and I hope you won’t be disappointed with this chapter :) Also, happy happy birthday to my lovely and wonderful ray of sunshine, Paul, who was born on this day 75 years ago! I love you, sweet darling boy.

George and Pattie’s home was located at the edge of the McCartney estate, past the woods and alongside a small creek wherein the local children played when they thought their parents weren’t watching, and wherein the dogs washed their mud-covered paws. It was almost a tiny village in itself, separate from the city of Liverpool, with one narrow, cobblestone road snaking and twisting and weaving itself between and around a number of stone cottages, none of which were particularly large and were sometimes shared between two of three families. Most of them had a little green garden at the front, simple but well-kept, where mothers hung the laundry to dry in the warm but weak light of the English sun, and dogs lay snoring before they were awoken by the men and dragged along for business. The odd cat ran past, chasing a mouse, and birds chirped as they flew over or rested on the eaves of the houses where they were safe from the predators on the ground below. At the end of the little street, where it gently transitioned into a dirt road that disappeared over a gentle hill and further into the city, was the smallest of all cottages. It was the cottage of the Harrisons, which they shared with Miss May and her old father, the latter of whom sat sulking in an old rocking chair at the front of the garden by the stone, waist-high wall that bordered it. A few feet away from him, Pattie was pulling the dry laundry from the clothesline and into a laundry basket that stood by her naked feet, her blond hair tied up rather messily and covered by a shawl, and her swollen belly clearly visible in the green dress she was wearing.

It was still early morning, the sun only having gone up about an hour ago, when it had shone into the bedroom of the eldest McCartney son, who had laid awake in his bed, unable to sleep any more than he had, which hadn’t been long. Not wanting to lie in bed for any longer, he had gotten up as soon as the light had hit his face, put on some simple clothes and decided to go on an early walk to enjoy the morning sun while he still could, taking Martha along with him, who had still been fast asleep at the foot end of the bed. He hadn’t considered visiting George and Pattie until he had found himself walking in the general direction of their home, but now he saw Pattie standing outside, quietly doing the laundry, he knew it had been a good idea. She put the last of the white shirts that Paul supposed were George’s into the basket, and had been about to pick it up when she caught sight of him from the corner of her eye and turned towards him to greet him with a broad, yet careful smile.

“Paul! I didn’t expect to see you here! How are you?” she asked, picking up the basket, which she propped up under her arm, the bottom balancing on her right hip. Her usually sweet face, with stunning blue eyes, rounded cheeks, and round lips that revealed the split between her two front teeth as she smiled, looked uncharacteristically tense, as if she were distrusting of the intention of his visit. But if she preferred to have him leave, she didn’t show it, her uncertain smile being nothing but inviting nonetheless. When he didn’t approach, she beckoned him to come over.

“I am fine, thank you, Pattie. I thought I’d come by and say hi. I know it’s been a while and I promised George I would, so I figured… it’s not a bad time, is it?” Paul asked as he walked over to her, snapping his fingers to indicate Martha to follow him. Pattie’s smile broadened even more and she shook her head as she unlocked the gate for him, allowing him to step inside and kiss her cheek. Martha happily trotted inside after him as well, and laid down in the sun against the cool stone wall of the little cottage, arranging herself in such a manner that as much of her body as possible lay on the cool tiles and her head rested on her paws with as little effort as possible, looking relaxed and pleased with herself. Always loyal and protective of her master, though, she kept her eyes on Paul as he continued to speak with Pattie, in case something were to happen to him, and let out an occasional huff as she rested from their unusual early-morning walk.

“Of course it’s not a bad time,” Pattie said when Paul removed his lips from her cheek, and she gently squeezed his arm in return. “George is busy working inside, but he can come down for a cup of tea. If you would like that, of course.”

Paul nodded in response. “That sounds lovely, Pattie. And er… congratulations,” he said, as he let his eyes fall on her rounded belly. Pattie flushed at his words and smiled as her hand unwittingly went to her stomach to rub it tenderly, as if afraid something were to hurt it, before she turned around and ushered him over the small gravel pathway and up to the house, causing Martha to look up in curiosity.

“George is working on the baby’s room,” Pattie explained as she opened the front door and beckoned him inside, and, true to her words, as Paul entered the small cottage he could hear stumbling up on the first floor that did not sound all together promising. “My mother brought us my old crib last week, which he has decided needed some work. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t for the fact that I am constantly worried he’ll hurt himself.”

“He hasn’t yet, has he?” Paul asked, concerned, as he took off his coat and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall. His eyes travelled up the stairs, but it was too dark at the top of it for him to make anything out.

“I haven’t heard him cry out in pain yet, which can’t be anything but positive, although there is the odd curse. I just figure, as long as he isn’t screaming or wailing, he is fine,” Pattie explained, though she looked somewhat unsure about her own reasoning as she nibbled her bottom lip. Paul, however, nodded in agreement, which appeared to put her more at ease. “Could you go upstairs and ask him to come down for tea? I’ll put the kettle on. He’ll be glad to see you.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” Pattie said and Paul nodded again as he watched her walk into the kitchen and pull the door shut behind herself, leaving him standing alone in the hallway. Martha, who had walked inside with them, laid down against the front door and licked her paws for a moment before resting her head on the brick flooring and closing her eyes to catch up on her sleep. Paul himself let out a deep sigh, scratched his dog behind her ear, and started to ascend the stairs to the first floor, where he began to hear the soft melodic humming of his friend, which guided him into the direction of a small room at the end of the corridor, the door of which was left ajar. He knocked before slowly pushing it further open.

“George?” he asked, and not long after a loud curse followed. Frowning, Paul pushed the door all the way open to reveal the man in question sitting knelt on the floor by the half-finished crib that stood against the wall, a simple wooden one that looked like it had been assembled and dissembled numerous times over the last fifty or sixty years, holding his thumb in his hand as he sucked on it. A hammer laid dropped on the ground beside his knee, and George was shooting it death glares as he mumbled some inaudible curses at it, the words being obstructed by the thumb in his mouth.

“George? Are you okay?” Paul asked, and hurriedly bit back an amused grin as George turned around to him. The man’s mood, however, cleared substantially at the sight of his friend and he was quick to pull his thumb from his mouth as he scrambled up from the floor, muttering Paul’s name in a faint kind of greeting. He straightened out his clothes before he walked over to pull him into a hug, which Paul awkwardly returned – he never could get used to the freedom with which George regarded him when they were in private.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were coming,” George said once he had released him and Paul shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“I told you I would visit you and Pattie soon, didn’t I? Besides, I really needed to get away from everyone for a while.”

“The Ashers, right?”

Paul nodded, but didn’t elaborate on it and instead let his eyes fall onto the crib George had been working on. “The crib is coming along well, I see. Pattie told me you were working on it,” he said in a poor attempt to change the subject. George, however, went along with it regardless.

“Slowly but surely. I have never been very good at this kind of handiwork, but it’s necessary, you know? Pattie’s afraid I’ll kill myself, though. Not that I blame her for it. But well…”

Paul hummed in reply and looked around. It was a cosy room, the bedroom they were in, and Paul was certain it would make for a nice nursery once it had been finished. The walls were painted in a cheerful pale yellow, a rather clumsy job, with some of the paint having ended up onto the dark brown ceiling above, and alongside the window hung a short flower-patterned curtain that rested on the windowsill. Besides the crib, the room contained a ragged rug that lay on the wooden floor to soften it, a chest-of-drawers that was placed against the wall opposite the window, onto which some towels and other pieces of cloth lay, probably left there to be stored away later, and a large leather chair that stood beside it, looking comfortable despite its age. In the corner of the room stood an old rocking horse that appeared to be just as old, if not older, as the crib, which made Paul suspect Pattie’s mother had brought them that one too. It would be a cosy little nursery once it was done, and Paul didn’t doubt George and Pattie would prove to be good parents, although the thought of seeing George with a small child in his arms, was still hard for him to imagine and almost made him feel slightly sick. Feeling himself get rather faint, he flopped himself down in the leather chair and closed his eye for a moment.

“Are you feeling okay?” George asked, and Paul shook his head as he listened to the man’s footsteps approaching the crib again. “If you’d like to talk about it...”

“No. No, I simply haven’t slept well the last few days. I never do whilst I’m travelling and now with Jane… I will be fine in a few days,” Paul said, forcing a smile to put the other man at ease. It came out looking, however, like a pained grin, which instead had the opposite effect.

“Paul, you didn’t… you didn’t do anything while you were in Paris, did you?” he asked and Paul groaned at the question, which he ought to have known would come sooner or later.

“George…” he tried, but he continued as he took a couple of steps towards him, while maintaining a polite distance, ever aware of the uneven power relation between them. At the moment, though, it annoyed Paul more than anything else. Not that George appeared to notice.

“Because, Paul, with the engagement between you and Jane about to be made official, you cannot afford-“

“I know, George,” Paul cut in with an exasperated sigh, raising one of his hands to rub at the corners of his eyes in an attempt to lift some tension, but George had not yet finished.

“If anyone were to find out, especially now-“

“I know, Geo,” Paul snapped, cutting George off with more force than what would have been necessary. There was a lingering silence in the room, and Paul could feel that the other man’s eyes were still on him, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge him as he leaned back in his chair, needing some time to collect himself. After another minute or so, he finally opened his eyes again and noticed George had gone back to working on the crib, and was busy hammering the bars into their respective places. When he began to speak, he looked up, but did not pause in his work.

“It’s so strange to imagine this is truly happening, you know. You and Pattie getting a baby together, Mike getting married to Angela, me and Jane getting engaged, officially that is… It’s not that I don’t like her Geo, but…”

“You wish you didn’t have to,” George finished for him and Paul nodded in reply.

“Everything is just so fucked up, you know?” he concluded and when George merely nodded, Paul let out a rather irritated huff, only to shake his head at himself in disapproval after. “Strange thing is,” he continued, “it doesn’t seem that long ago when we were still children. Remember that, Geo? Just us two, running around together, playing silly games and pretending we were the knights of the round table, saving Liverpool from all kinds of evil. Remember that?”

“Certainly. Neither of us ever wanted to play Arthur. You were always Lancelot, the best and most chivalrous knight who could sweep any young lady of her feet – or boy, I suppose, in your case.” George giggled at his words and Paul too could not help the smile that pulled at his lips at the memory, his heart filling with a warm, fuzzy feeling he had not felt again since those days in Paris with John. Even back then, when he couldn’t have been older than six or seven, he was pretending to be saving handsome men, lords, and princes as young Sir Lancelot with the help of his trusted friend, companion and mentor.

“And you were always Merlin, giving me all your prophecies, which never turned out to come true-“ he said, chuckling. George joined in soon after.

“More often than not because you’d change the rules every other moment whenever it suited you!”

“As if you were any better, Mr ‘my magic is the most powerful magic there is, so I can do anything and everything I want to, even when that defies all logic and every rule we had established’! At least I bothered to change to the rules, while you just didn’t care for them at all!”

“I cared!” George objected, laughing, despite the fact that both knew that wasn’t true. “Do you remember that time we asked Miss Asher to join us?”

“Oh yes! The damsel in distress who didn’t want to be saved,” Paul mused as images of that day flashed before his eyes, and chuckled as he remembered how Jane had outright refused to come with him and let herself be saved, once he had managed to make his way through the dark, dangerous, magical woods with Merlin’s help. She had gone on alone instead, after which she had put a fake wooden crown on her head and declared herself to be ‘Queen’ Arthur, and thus ruler over the two of them, giving her the ability to boss them around as much as she saw fit. “She always had a passion for acting, drama, and theatre, even back then. Oh, how I miss those days. Everything was still so simple. Every marriage was over as soon as you stopped playing, there were no babies, no obligations, and as many pretty boys to save as your mind could conjure up. Not that… not that I am not happy for you and Pattie, of course, George.”

“No, I understand. I feel the same way now that it is truly happening. If it wasn’t for the fact that Pattie’s belly has grown so much, I wouldn’t have been able to believe it, if I’m honest. It is scary though, having a child on the way; a small living creature that is completely dependent on you, and that you have to keep alive and be responsible for. Pattie’s mother thinks it’s too soon for us, that we’re too young, and although I am happy we’re going to be blessed with a child, especially after the last time when it went wrong, I sometimes cannot help but fear she is right. It’s… it’s a lot, you know?”

“No,” Paul answered after a brief moment of thought. “No, I don’t know.”

They remained silent for a few more moments, before finally Pattie’s voice came rising up from below, calling them down for tea, to which the two boys happily complied. They made their way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Pattie had already taken a seat at the kitchen table and motioned them to sit down as well. Three steaming mugs of tea were placed on the table, along with a small saucer with a couple of biscuits. Martha once again followed her owner inside and laid down at his feet, so Paul could pet here if he so wished, which he did from time to time as he drunk his tea and spoke with George and Pattie about some general things and the baby, until Pattie inquired after Jane Asher and his engagement to her. He could see the worried look on George’s face as his wife brought it up, but he merely smiled and answered her questions, somewhere feeling glad to be able to talk about it with someone who did not find it of the utmost importance that the marriage would succeed.

The Asher had arrived yesterday morning like his father had told him they would, and he had done his best to look his best and be there on time to welcome them as was desired of him. His father had been most pleased to see him looking presentable as he had come down the stairs at just the right moment, and Paul had not been able to repress the sigh of relief at the look of approval on his father’s face, which the latter luckily had not noticed. His brother, on the other hand, had noticed and had looked somewhat worried still, being well aware of the eldest McCartney’s feelings towards the match, but Paul had behaved his best and once lunch had ended and the Ashers had been escorted upstairs to their rooms, his father had even told him he was proud of him, something that happened only rarely, and Paul would be lying if he said it did not affect him.

Jane had been as dazzling as ever, being polite and sincere to everyone who spoke or even looked at her, and looking absolutely stunning as she had climbed out of the carriage, wearing a deep purple dress with a tight bodice that suited her surprisingly well, and had managed to look both approachable and kind as well as intimidating at the same time, which was one of the qualities Paul liked most about her. He hadn’t spoken to her much, though, having kept his distance from her and her family as well as everyone else, preferring to be left alone with his thoughts. He had been glad when the day had finally ended and he could retire for the evening. Except that evening, as he had laid sleepless in his bed, he had not been able to stop thinking about future, about Jane, about their marriage, about John, whom he still had to tell the “happy” news, something which he wasn’t looking forward to.

He stayed at the Harrison’s for about another hour and a half, discussing various topics and feeling generally happy to be away from his family for a while and not have to think about them, before he decided he’d better leave. It was nearing nine ‘o clock, which meant the rest of the house would awaken soon and go down for breakfast around ten-ish, perhaps a little earlier, where his father would expect him to be present and be just as gentlemanly as the day before. He hadn’t yet had any breakfast himself, either, and his stomach was beginning to protest at the lack of food Paul offered it, the biscuits Pattie had put down for them not being enough. George and Pattie understood though, and George immediately got to his feet to see Paul out.

“Thanks, Geo,” Paul said as the younger man got him his coat and helped him into it, while Pattie rummaged around in the kitchen to find Martha a little snack for the road as she always did when they visited. Once she got her treat, Martha came trotting back out of the kitchen with a piece of old bread in her mouth, her tail wagging in excitement, and began munching eagerly on it as she stood beside Paul, ready to leave whenever he so desired. Paul smiled at the sight of her and ran his fingers through her fur, before turning back around to see Pattie emerge from the kitchen as well, both of her hands holding her back as she rubbed it. George immediately took over as soon as he saw it.

“I er…” Paul started somewhat uncertain, knowing now was the only chance he had to bring up the issue he really needed to talk to them about. “I also spoke to my father yesterday, George. About the raise you asked me about?”

George, immediately interested in what his friend had to say, looked up at him expectantly, his hands halting for a moment. “Yes?”

“Well… I cannot promise anything for certain, but he did say he would be willing to consider it. He wants to speak with you first, before he comes to a final decision, and I am not sure how much he’s willing to consider, but he didn’t refuse!”

“Oh, Paul! That is wonderful! Thank you!” Pattie exclaimed before her husband had any time to say anything, and George could only nod in agreement to his wife’s words.

“Yes! Yes, thank you. I really appreciate you doing this for us, Paul,” he finally managed to say, but Paul shrugged it off, shaking his head.

“It was no problem. I told you I would talk to him. I was only lucky he was in a good mood now the Ashers are here,” he said with a pained smile, but George and Pattie insisted on thanking him nonetheless, both being well aware how difficult James McCartney could be, especially about business issues. Again Paul insisted that the raise wasn’t yet certain – his father had the annoying quality of changing his mind as easily as he did everything else – but both George and Pattie assured him they knew, so Paul left the conversation as it was and bid them both goodbye, before he stepped outside and started making his way back to the manor, Martha following closely behind.

It was a nice day, with only a few puffy white clouds drifting overhead, birds chirping cheerily in the trees, and despite the chill that hung in the air, the lack of wind made it surprisingly comfortable weather to go for a walk. Martha was happily running around, chasing various little bugs and birds that were quick to fly away and escape her big fluffy paws and eager mouth. Paul whistled a tune as he watched her, forcing himself to clear his mind and enjoy the nature around him as they slowly came close and closer to home.

They hadn’t gone far yet, though, or Martha suddenly spurted away with a couple of happy barks, tearing Paul away from his mindless thoughts as he called after her, shouting at her to come back, which she didn’t.

“Martha! Martha, come back here!” Paul shouted again as he sped up his pace, his calm walking pace transitioning into a jog as he went after her, cursing at himself as he wondered what she could possibly have seen that would cause her to run away. She wasn’t usually the kind of dog to do that, and tended to stay in close proximity to him even when they were on a walk like now. His questions were soon answered, though, when Martha came running back to him, her tongue hanging from her mouth and her tail wagging again in enthusiasm, with Jane following closely after her, carrying a large basket in one hand, as she held onto her hat with the other.

“J-Jane…” he muttered, halting in surprise at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, of course! We barely spoke yesterday and well… when one of your servants told me you had gone on an early walk, I thought you might be hungry,” Jane answered with a broad smile as she lifted the basket for emphasis, making her intention more than clear, and beckoned him over. “Come on, let’s find a good spot. Somewhere private would be good. Can’t have anyone interrupting our little picnic now, can we?” she joked with a cheery laugh, and Paul responded in kind as he nodded and hurried over to her. His stomach growled impatiently at the promise of food.

The two of them didn’t take long to find a good spot for their picnic. Jane had always loved the lake, which wasn’t too far away, so they folded out their generous-sized blanket along the waterside, allowing Jane to take off her shoes and stockings and dangle her feet in the water like she used to do when she was a child, while Paul laid down on his side beside her with his legs curled up around her as he made them sandwiches, offered her some fresh fruit, buttered the scones she had managed to procure for them, and handed her some orange juice or sparkling wine whenever she asked. It was a peaceful and quiet moment and Paul felt grateful for her idea to do this, being glad to be out of the sight of their ever-watchful families.

They mostly sat in silence, listening to the sounds of nature as they ate, while Jane occupied herself by fingering some wild flowers she had picked from her immediate surroundings, carefully lacing them together to create a long line of them. Paul kept to studying her, taking in every little movement of his fingers, the way the sun made her hair look an almost fiery red, rather than the copper colour he was used to, and the way her lips seemed to move as she hummed a soft tune. Occasionally, he would look across the lake and allow his mind to drift away into an almost dream-like state; thoughtless, calm, serene, and for a moment it seemed like he truly would this time. Before he could drift off completely, however, Jane pulled him back into reality by laying a gentle hand on his arm, catching his attention.

“What is on your mind?” she asked. Paul pretended not to know what she was talking about, and only shrugged as he picked up the last piece of his current sandwich and finished it. “You are preoccupied today,” Jane continued, but Paul again didn’t answer. “You were yesterday as well. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

“It’s not often you hear you are going to get married,” Paul said in reply, but Jane only hummed at his answer, and looked back at her work as she knotted the two ends of the line of flowers together, creating a circle.

“Sit up,” she said as she turned back to her fiancé, gently holding the ring of flowers in her hand. Paul did as she said, leaning forward when she told him to, and chuckled as she placed the flowers on his head.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He reached up to feel for himself, but Jane was quick to bat his hands away.

“Don’t touch it! You’ll ruin it. And it’s a flower crown, which - Look up at me, perfect – is going to make you look pretty,” Jane explained, as she adjusted the flower crown on Paul’s head with a gentle hand, afraid to accidentally break the crown.

“I am always pretty, remember?” Paul reminded her with a wink, but Jane gave him a look of disapproval as she shook his head. “But I am!”

“Don’t get cocky.” She gave the flower crown one last gentle tug and ran her fingers through his hair to add a little more volume, making the who look appear more natural, before she sat back and considered him for a moment. Once she was certain everything was perfect and secure, her lips curled up in a wide smile.

“Good?” Paul asked and Jane nodded.

“Perfect. As always.”

“I aim for nothing less, darling,” he said and Jane chuckled in response. After their laughter had died down, though, it remained silent between them for a moment, neither knowing what to do or say. In the end, Paul decided on taking a sip from his sparkling wine, his throat feeling rather dry. It was Jane, however, who ended the silence.

“Paul?” she asked, and paused to study him for a moment, before she continued her question. “What is on your mind?”

“Nothing!”

“You can tell me,” she assured him, but when Paul didn’t answer, she said, “I’ll go first!”

“Go first?” Paul repeated, unsure what she meant, but Jane merely nodded in reply.

“Yes! I’ll admit something first, and then you can tell me what’s been bothering you afterwards. It is only fair, don’t you agree? Okay,” she paused for a moment to adjust the way she was sitting, making herself more comfortable, before she continued, “I acted.”

“Acted? You acted?” Paul repeated, and Jane nodded as she smiled proudly.

“I did! Oh Paul, it was wonderful. I went to the theatre with my father – he had to be there for business and brought me along to keep him company – and while I was waiting for him to finish his meeting with the theatre manager, I explored a little and well… one of the male actors noticed me snooping around backstage, spying on the rehearsal that was going on for their new play, and asked if I wanted to try it out myself. Of course I couldn’t refuse such an offer!”

“Who was the actor?” Paul asked with a grin, and Jane hit his arm at his cheekiness.

“It is not what you think. I am not like you,” she said, but Paul only grinned wider, knowing better than to believe such a blatant lie, and so she hit him again. “I hate you.”

“I doubt that. But never mind him, then, if you want to be a tease about it. What did you play?”

“Shakespeare, of course. What else did you think I was going to play?”

“Which play? What role?”

“Hamlet!”

“Don’t tell me you did the whole ‘To be or not to be’ speech?”

“And so what if I did?”

“It is a cliché! Never mind the fact that it’s a man’s role.”

“Might be, but it’s still a dream to play such a role as Hamlet, isn’t it? And well… at first men played women, so now it’s the women’s time to play men, don’t you think? It is only fair,” Jane said and Paul snickered at that, but couldn’t think of any good argument to bring in against that statement, so he agreed with a shrug of his shoulder and picked up his wine glass.

“I’ll drink to that,” he said, taking a sip, and Jane happily joined him as she took a sip herself as well. “You know,” Paul continued as he put his glass back down on the grass next to him, “I’ve always enjoyed good old Will, and I do love that line from Hamlet that Polonius speaks: ‘to thine own self be true’. It would be good if more people lived like that, don’t you think?” Jane shrugged.

“If only it ever was that easy,” she mused.

“It should be,” Paul said and this time it was Jane’s turn t nod. Sighing, she put her glass of wine back down and leaned forward to run her fingers through the water, thoughtfully playing with it as Paul followed her movements.

“Jane,” he said after another moment of silence, feeling his hands get clammy as she looked up at him, their eyes locking, and he took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, trying his best to ignore the rapid pacing of his heart in his chest. The best, he rationalised, was to just get it out in the open. “I er… I have another lover.”

If Jane was surprised she hid it well. She didn’t say a word and simply stared at him for a while, her body and face unmoving, giving nothing away, before she let out another sigh and nodded. “Who?”

“An artist. Painter to be exact. He’s handsome, young, about two years older than me. He’s sweet, funny, talented,” Paul answered truthfully, and again Jane simply nodded, her face expressionless.

“Do you love him?” she asked and Paul was momentarily startled by the question, making it difficult for him to speak, but once he finally found his voice, he told her he didn’t know, and again Jane nodded.

“Is that strange? Not knowing if you love someone?” he asked, frowning at his own inability to answer a question that was so easily formulated. It wasn’t that he was afraid to tell her, that he was afraid he would hurt her feelings if he said he did. He just truly did not know. Did John love him? Wasn’t it enough prove that he couldn’t say he didn’t love him? When did you know you loved someone anyway?

“No. It’s not strange,” Jane said, interrupting his thoughts and she smiled at him as she reached over to pick up another sandwich. She handed it to him and Paul took it. “It is normal. Now, finish that. We should probably get back before anyone starts to miss us and goes looking for us.”

Paul nodded in agreement and did as she had told him to while Jane put her stockings and shoes back on and started to clear the blanket and put everything back into the basket, while letting Martha finish their left-overs. By the time Paul had finished his sandwich, they were ready to leave, so he got up from the grass, took the basket from her and offered her his arm as they started to make their way back to the manor, Martha once again following closely behind them.

“Jane?” Paul asked as the manor began to come into view. “Thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, frowning as she glanced up at him, her pretty face looking positively puzzled. Paul smiled at the sight.

“For understanding. For not being mad at me,” he said and Jane chuckled at that as she shook her head and called him silly. She paused in her tracks to stand up on her tiptoes and press a sisterly kiss to his scruffy, unshaven cheek.

Previous Chapter

#fanfiction #beatles fanfiction #BEATLES SLASH #The Beatles #McLennon #mclennon fanfiction #JohnxPaul #John #Paul #PG-13 #au #Art and Obligation

34 notes · View notes