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thewordworrier · 2 months

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Are You Thinking Of Me Like I’m Thinking Of You? - Part One

Series Masterpost

Word Count: 7,481 words. Warnings: A decent amount of swearing, some slightly perverted flirting.

While Shelly can always escape the weather, she can never escape her band. At least not for very long. Ultimately she doesn't really mind, even if the conversation gets a little bit heated.

[Setting: We’re a few years into the Revenge Era, and the band are performing a few sets at some kinda Music Event during the warmer months. This is probably Warped 2005. Or thereabouts.]

It was hot. Far too hot. Way too hot, way too loud and way too busy. Shelly found herself struggling with it all, honestly. She couldn’t get used to the different types of heat in America, and she felt a bit dumb for it, really. She’d been working this side of the water for a good couple of years now, so surely she should at least be a little bit used to it.

Thankfully, she wasn’t totally needed at that moment - the bands were all mingling, hanging out and having a good time until their set times. Besides, if her band needed her, they’d call her. They knew that they could call her whenever they needed to, no matter what the time was or what they needed. But right then, Shelly needed to find somewhere quiet because everything was starting to feel overwhelming.

Once Shelly made her way through some of the backstage areas, it took her a few minutes to find somewhere that wasn’t occupied. Once she had though, she dropped her bag by the small couch and flopped onto her back, stretching out and letting out a sigh. It was quiet and a bit cooler. Maybe it was cooler because she wasn’t surrounded by people. Or maybe it was cooler for another reason; her brain wasn’t exactly running on a full tank of gas. She was just too hot - even though her “uniform” in the summer months ended up being t-shirts or tank tops, shorts and sneakers, she still found herself roasting.

She wasn’t very good with the heat; she reckoned if she wasn’t so hot, she’d be able to deal with everything else so much more. Of course, if she could get used to any one of the three things that were overwhelming her right then (the heat, the noise or the crowds), then the rest would fall into place. In theory anyway - it was, of course, entirely possible that everything felt like Too Much because it was All At Once. But she reckoned that the heat was the main offender. She had never been very good with the hotter summers back home either.

Shelly spent some blissful minutes in solitary silence, cooling down a little, even managing to cool down enough in order to sit up properly instead of being stretched out. She pulled her phone out of her pocket to check it, to see if she was being looked for, but before she could properly check her notifications, the door opened and she heard her name.

“Shellyyyyyy!”

The blonde in question looked up to see a heat flushed Lux.

“I found youuuu,” the other girl said, closing the door behind her. “I need time away from smelly boys. There’s so many of them! They’re awful in this weather. Can I hide with you?”

Shelly giggled and gestured for Lux to join her. “Sure, baby.”

Lux beamed and plopped down next to her for a moment. “Thanks! Do I smell? I’ve been outside all day.”

“Hmm,” Shelly leant closer to sniff her drummer. “No, I don’t think so. I think you’re alright.”

“Okay great!” Lux huffed a bit before she stood up to stretch, feeling restless. “So, what are you doing?”

“Um,” Shelly rubbed her arm a bit. “Just trying to catch a break from all the noise and all the people, and especially all of the heat because oh my god it’s so hot.”

Lux nodded, she knew that Shelly suffered in the heat, and sat on the other couch in the room. “I agree. It’s all too much.”

Before Shelly could say anything else, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door opened again and Mikey stuck his head around it. He looked worried until he saw Lux, and then his expression changed to relief. “Ah, there you are.”

Lux blinked rapidly. “What?”

“I thought some creep -” He paused before shaking his head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

Shelly tilted her head and cleared her throat a little. “What can I do for you Mikey?”

“Nothing Shell, just looking for Lux.”

“Come and hang out in here,” Lux said with a grin. “It’s much cooler.”

“I am apparently very good at finding the coolest spots,” Shelly said softly, rolling her eyes.

Mikey chuckled and settled close to Lux, not too close because it was still hot after all, before turning to Shelly again. “I suppose you’re still not used to this weather are you? I mean, Britain is well known for being… Wet?”

Shelly giggled a bit at his tone before she tried to fan herself with her hand for a moment. “It can rain a lot, yes, but even when it’s warm, it’s not this warm.”

Mikey nodded as he listened. “Different climates and humidity and all of that.”

“Exactly,” Shelly nodded and squirmed in her seat for a second before plucking at her darker coloured t-shirt and standing up, grabbing her bag. “I might need to change this. I screwed up putting this on today. Does anyone have a problem with that?”

Mikey shook his head, and to make a point, he took off his glasses, hooked the arm in his t-shirt and covered his face with his hands. Shelly watched this, slightly amused, as Lux sat up a bit straighter, resting her chin in her hands.

If you asked Lux about this at a later date, she would probably willingly admit that she was ‘chin-handsing’ at Shelly getting half naked (not that this was new to Lux, the girls often shared a room and sometimes a bed), and maybe, just maybe she would admit that she was also heart-eyesing at Mikey being so darn respectful.

“I’m assuming you don’t have an issue, Miss Lux?” Shelly grinned slightly in the younger girl’s direction, giggling when Lux went a bit pink before she shook her head. “I didn’t think so.”

“You’re just so pretty Shell,” Lux said, as she watched the blonde pull a tank top out of her bag.

Shelly shook her head at Lux before looking at the tank top. She then pulled a face before turning her back to the other two. “Ugh, it’s white. I guess all the others are in the wash pile.”

“That bag is your emergency bag though,” Lux said, trying not to be too obvious about watching Shelly change. “You don’t really plan to use what’s in it. It’s a last resort.”

“Perhaps,” Shelly tugged her t-shirt off over her head, rolled it up and shoved it in her bag before pulling the tank top on. “Maybe I should swap the emergency shirt for a darker colour once we’ve done some laundry.”

Almost as if he was summoned by the flashing of female flesh, there was another knock at the door and Frank appeared. He looked around to see some of his bandmates. And Shelly, who seemed to be half dressed.

“Well, well well!” He said, closing the door behind him. “What’s going on in here?”

Shelly pulled the fabric down properly over her chest before turning to face the noise. “It’s like Waterloo Station in here.”

The other two frowned at her slightly, while Mikey kept his gaze averted.

“Um! It’s like… Uh, Grand Central Station? New York Airport?” She tried to correct herself. “It’s a really busy public transport hub - one of the main ones in the capital city.”

It was only as she looked around at them that she realised that Mikey still had his eyes covered. She giggled and made her way back over to the smaller couch to sit back down.

“Oh, Mikey, honey, you can look now.”

Frank plopped himself down between Mikey and Lux as the bassist quickly cleaned his glasses on the hem of his t-shirt before putting them back on.

“Nice bra, by the way,” Frank said to Shelly with a grin.

“Oh shut up,” Shelly rolled her eyes. “I didn’t think I’d have to wear white today.”

“Is that blue?” Frank leant forward a bit, trying to get a closer look at Shelly. “Or is it some kinda purple?”

“It’s purple!” Lux blurted out, earning a smile from the blonde.

Frank glanced at Lux, grinned even wider and then turned to Shelly again. “”Purple is very becoming on you. Then again -”

Mikey rolled his eyes and elbowed Frank. “Don’t be crude.”

The guitarist managed to avoid the elbow to the ribs and just cackled. Lux rolled her eyes at this behaviour.

“Who’s being crude?” Ray asked as Gerard closed the door.

“Who do you think?” Lux said.

“Frank,” Mikey clarified, as he rolled his eyes.

Ray sighed.

“We’re,” Frank gestured to himself and Lux. “We were just talking about Shelly’s bra.”

Gerard glanced over to Shelly - she had settled on her back again, stretched out on the smaller of the two couches. She had one arm over her eyes and the other was resting on her stomach. Although, it took him a little while to notice that because his eyes lingered on her chest. He couldn’t help it! Her bra was actually quite visible through her white tank top. Which he swore she wasn’t wearing earlier. He’d remember it being so see through.

“Shut up Frank,” Shelly muttered. “Is that Ray I hear?”

“Hey Shell,” Ray took a seat in the single chair that looked like it was once part of a dining set. “Are you alright? What’re you doing here?”

“I was searching for somewhere quiet and cool to relax. It’s too hot and busy for me.”

Frank had been focused on Gerard for a few minutes, so he had seen where the singer’s gaze had lingered.

“Gerard’s here too,” Frank said. “But he’s been too busy trying to figure out the colour of your bra too. Which I still think is blue.”

Gerard went bright red.

“It’s purple!” Lux repeated, going pink herself.

Shelly removed her arm from covering her eyes and glanced around. “Oh, the gang is actually all here.”

Frank laughed a little at Shelly’s observation as he watched her cover her eyes with her arm again. Gerard, meanwhile, glanced around; checking to see if there was somewhere for him to sit. He didn’t really want to ask Shelly to move - she’d been here first after all, and she’d clearly found the best spot in the room for her needs. The best spot to stretch out in an attempt to cool off. A bit like when cats found the sunniest spot to sleep in, actually but… He’d much rather see her stretched out like that, than all curled up like a cat. Sure, maybe that was because of the shorts and the white tank top. Those definitely didn’t hurt. And that had been his thought before he let himself acknowledge the fact that he could see her bra through her top. Jesus. So, maybe he’d rather see her stretched out because of her clothing… Or maybe he’d rather see her stretched out because it meant that she was happy, comfortable and (hopefully) relaxed. That second reason sounded a bit… Lame, actually. It was true! He did like seeing her comfortable and happy! But he was also only human. And she was very attractive.

Asking her to move wasn’t an option to him - as much as he wanted to sit next to her. He wouldn’t even mind if she wanted to stay stretched out - he’d quite happily have her legs in his lap. Then again, he’d be more than willing to have her head in his lap too, or even her whole body… Like… Her sitting in his lap - but he didn’t want to give those thoughts too much screen time because he knew he wouldn’t keep it PG if he did. And he really needed to not think about her like that. At least not right then at that second. He might allow himself a few minutes of inappropriate thoughts later on when she wasn’t around.

“Gerard,” Shelly grumbled quietly, making him jolt out of his head. “Sit down, I can tell that you’re still standing.”

“I’ll make room!” Lux offered quickly, standing up to allow the vocalist to sit in the spot closest to their tiny tour manager.

Frank snorted slightly as Gerard took Lux’s spot after a quick “you sure?” exchange. “And where are you gonna sit?”

“She can have my seat,” Mikey moved to stand up, but stopped when he saw Frank roll his eyes.

“Jesus,” Frank muttered. “Someone needs to just sit in someone’s lap, or something! Enough musical chairs.”

“Although,” Ray glanced over to Shelly. “I really, really would advise against asking the tiny one to move.”

Shelly huffed - more at the heat than at anything else (she didn’t mind the ‘tiny one’ comment from Ray, as she really was small compared to him). She sat up and fiddled with the hem of her tank top to knot it up under her bust to get it off of her skin. Once she was sort of happy with that, she flopped back down again.

Gerard glanced at her as soon as she huffed, and then continued to watch her as she fiddled with her clothes. Frank, still sitting in the middle on that couch, heard Gerard sigh softly as soon as her lyric tattoo was exposed by her fiddling with her top. Frank grinned at the vocalist, not that Gerard was paying any attention to him at all.

“You’re really suffering in this heat, aren’t you?” Frank asked gently.

The older Way next to him nodded (despite the fact that Frank had aimed the question more towards Shelly) at the same time Shelly whined. That little noise from the blonde made Gerard sink back into the sofa, trying really hard not to file that noise away for later.

“I’m not built for this,” Shelly grumbled.

“I don’t know,” Frank grinned as Shelly turned her attention to him. “You’re certainly built for wearing very little clothing.”

Gerard sank even further back into the couch, if that was at all possible, and decided to keep his mouth very, very shut on that matter.

“Quit aggravating her!” Lux tutted at Frank with a roll of her eyes, shifting from one foot to the other - she was still standing up, not having been brave enough to just, as Frank suggested, sit on someone’s lap.

Mikey reached forward and tugged at Lux’s clothing. When he’d gotten her attention, he gestured for her to share his spot. He figured that they were both tall and fairly skinny, so two of them would fit in the space sized for one regular person. Lux smiled and, quite happily, squeezed in with Mikey. He made sure that Lux had as much of the space as possible, nudging up against Frank in the middle a little bit. He wasn’t concerned about the warmth he might start to feel from being too close to Frank - he was just happy that Lux was close. Both of them were totally oblivious to the looks that most of the rest of the band exchanged. Because god forbid that anyone admit their feelings.

Ray had been studying the situations in front of him while all of this had been happening. He spent a little longer studying the small blonde before letting out a soft “hmmm” and leaving the room.

The others (except Shelly, who had her arm across her eyes again) glanced at their tallest guitarist, first as he got up and their eyes widened as he left. They looked at each other, all sort of mentally shrugged and then turned back to their previous conversation.

“Well, it’s a shame that it’s summer really, Shell,” Frank mused after a few minutes.

Shelly sighed. “I agree, but… I’ll bite -”

Gerard nibbled his bottom lip. Yeah, she could bite him if she wanted.

“Go on,” Shelly grumbled. “Why?”

Frank grinned. “Because if you were cold, Shell, most of us have really warm hands.”

Lux groaned, which Shelly heard and giggled at, while Mikey rolled his eyes.

“Keep your hands to yourself Frank,” Lux grumbled.

“I think she’ll chop them off right now if I don’t,” Frank said. “But you just wait until winter.”

Gerard coughed very slightly, starting to shrink back into himself a little.

“She doesn’t need your hands, Frank!” Lux retorted, her tone slightly sharper. She had noticed Gerard’s reaction and felt a little bad for him; it was never nice seeing someone flirt with someone you were interested in.

Frank looked at Lux and raised an eyebrow at her. “You offering yours?”

Lux hesitated, realising what she’d said, and how that might’ve come across, and, again, aware of Gerard sitting right there.

“Hmn!” She said eventually, figuring that her flirting with Shelly a little would probably be a bit better than Frank. “Maybe I am!”

All three men glanced at their drummer, and even Shelly tilted her head in the direction of Lux’s voice.

“Well,” Frank grinned widely. “I’ll yield to that if you’re gonna put your warm hands all over her.”

“Ugh,” Lux muttered. “It’s Shelly’s body, and only she can decide whose hands she wants all over her!”

Shelly giggled from her sofa. “If it’s that cold, and people’s hands are that warm, I’m not gonna be overly fussy, to be honest.”

Gerard perked up a tiny bit - that didn’t sound like she’d be against him volunteering to help warm her up… Sure it wasn’t her seeking him out specifically, but she wasn’t exactly excluding him either. So… That was something.

Frank grinned, Mikey shook his head and Lux just sighed. The drummer was a little annoyed that Shelly wasn’t picking up on the hints that she (Lux) was trying to put out/down. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Frank touching her friend, and it wasn’t that she wanted to feel Shelly up (although Lux wouldn’t be totally against that…) - but Lux had noticed how much Gerard quietened down and shrunk back every time Frank flirted with the blonde. Despite his stage persona, Gerard was just not that forward, not that brave. Especially when it came to Shelly.

The shorter guitarist looked at Lux as she sighed, before he looked at their singer. Gerard was fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, while glancing up at Shelly every so often. Frank shook his head a little bit. The vocalist really did have hearts floating around his head every time he looked at the girl.

“Although,” Shelly pulled herself up into a sitting position before stretching a little bit (Gerard tried really hard not to stare at her when she did that). “I don’t know what Jamia’s gonna say about you putting your hands all over another woman, Frankie. Maybe it’s better that you keep your hands to yourself.”

“Yeah, Frank!” Lux relaxed a little. Maybe Shelly did pick up on the hints after all. Even if it was just a fraction, that would do.

Gerard smiled a tiny bit at this interaction.

“I’m sure she won’t mind,” Frank said with a pout.

“Dude,” Mikey sighed, nudging his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “You already have a woman. You don’t get two. Don’t be greedy.”

“Yeah,” Lux nodded. “Some people don’t have one, so chill out.”

Frank pretended to huff, but before he could argue any more, Ray returned, looking a little… Rumpled. He handed out some bottles of water to everyone, ignoring the curious expressions.

“Miss Manager,” he said.

Shelly blinked rapidly at him and the offered bottle.

“Drink this please,” he said.

She smiled slightly, took the bottle from him with a raised eyebrow, but, ultimately, she did as she was told; twisting open the cap and taking a drink.

“Better?” Ray asked, his voice gentle.

“Mm hm, a bit, thank you.”

He nodded before going to sit in the chair he’d been in earlier. “Good.”

“Thanks dad!” Lux grinned at him, almost giggling at his splutter. It always startled him when she called him that. Still, as Frank had pointed out once, at least she didn’t call him ‘daddy’ - he’d nearly choked on his beer that day.

“Awww! Look at Band Dad looking after the kids! And looking after Band Mommy too,” Frank grinned, almost giggling at the looks shot his way.

“I’d threaten to punish you, but I think you’d enjoy it,” Shelly shot back at Frank, with a roll of her eyes.

Gerard bit the inside of his cheek as his brain decided to wander off with those words.

Frank puckered his lips at Shelly in a kissing motion. “What’re you gonna do Shell? Spank me?”

Ray sighed, got up and clipped Frank around the head. Lightly, but still enough for it to be felt.

“Ow!” Frank whined. “Dad!”

“Behave,” Ray sat back down. “Don’t be so crude. Give the woman a break.”

“Bless you for calling me a woman and not a girl, Ray,” Shelly smiled sweetly at him before blowing him a kiss.

Privately, Gerard thought that yes, Shelly was very, very much a woman. Clearly not a little girl. Clearly a full woman. And just… God damn.

“Why do you look like you’ve been in a scuffle?” Mikey asked, after peering at Ray for a moment.

The question caught Shelly’s attention. And Gerard’s actually. He even stopped half watching Shelly to look at Ray properly.

Ray looked a little sheepish when all of his band turned to scrutinise him. “Um. Well…I did get into a little bit of an altercation.”

“What?” Lux perked up. “Do we have to go and fight someone? Who’re we fighting?”

“Down BabyCat. You are very vicious,” Shelly said, turning her attention back to Ray. “Excuse you? Who do I have to have Words with?”

The band shared looks. Shelly’s version of “having words with someone” could be just as vicious as Lux’s actions.

“No, no! I’m fine!” Ray said quickly. “I was talking to a friend, asking a favour, and someone overheard and said something stupid, so they got a little…”

“Ruffled?” Frank suggested after a moment of Ray searching for the right word.

“Yeah!” He nodded. “They just got a little bit of a talking to.”

“A stern Dad Talk?” Mikey asked.

Shelly narrowed her eyes at Ray. “Okay. What are you not saying?”

“Who was it?” Lux asked again.

Ray hesitated, because they had clearly seen through him attempting to brush the finer details under the rug. As he’d expected, Shelly had been the first to properly call him out.

“How about you just tell us exactly what happened?” Gerard said, his voice quiet, calm and rather matter of fact. Not accusingly or anything.

“Like I said,” Ray started, sheepishly. “I was talking to a friend - I managed to get a fan for the bus for you, Shell. Hopefully that’ll help you deal with this heat a bit better.”

Shelly’s expression softened. “Thanks Ray.”

“And,” he continued. “I was asking him if I could do something in return, like a trade system thing -”

Shelly tilted her head as she listened.

“Makes sense,” Mikey nodded.

“And some idiot nearby must’ve heard most of the conversation,” Ray hesitated, clearly not really wanting to continue, but after a sigh, and a look from the blonde, he did. “And he said something like…”

“About something I could do in return, right?”

“Fucking pig!” Lux spat out.

Mikey pulled a face, agreeing with Lux. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but this was the main reason why he kept a closer eye on Lux. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself! Because she was very capable of that. But she was the youngest of their group, and another woman in a male dominated space. And, clearly, so many of these guys could be complete assholes.

Gerard huffed angrily from beside Frank, almost trembling in rage.

“Fucking what?” Frank hissed. He, like the others, hated this attitude anyway, but he was also super protective of Shelly because of how she took care of them all - especially him.

Shelly watched Ray nod, slowly and regretfully, in answer to her question, and she sighed.

“I might’ve gone for him,” Ray admitted quietly. “But I didn’t get far, as my friend grabbed me first.”

The blonde shook her head and pushed herself to her feet, untying her tank top and smoothing it out so it sat properly again.

“Well,” she said softly. “It’s not the first time someone’s said something like that, and I doubt it’ll be the last.”

“It shouldn’t fucking happen at all!” Gerard exploded. He’d raised his voice a bit, but he wasn’t yelling. “And it shouldn’t be a case of ‘oh well he wouldn’t say shit like that if you were our sister’ or something like that. How about you don’t make fucking disgusting comments like that about women in the first place?!”

The rest of the band stared at Gerard.

“She doesn’t have to go by that ‘oh she’s someone’s daughter’ thing to deserve some damn respect,” Gerard continued. “Why does everyone think she got her job on her knees anyway? Why is that the only answer to most of them?! Is it really that hard to believe that women can work just as hard if not harder than men in this industry?” He huffed for a moment. “And, more to the point, they often do work harder because of attitudes like that!”

Shelly had turned to look at him at the same time as the rest of the band. She blinked rapidly at him and tilted her head as she listened. When he looked up and noticed that she was looking at him, he went quite pink, and even pinker when she smiled a little.

Lux looked at Mikey, her eyes wide. She was still pretty much in his lap at this point, having been gently anchored to the couch by the bass player when she’d been getting excited about the prospect of a fight. While Mikey knew that everything Gerard had said was true, he looked just as surprised at his brother’s outburst. Normally the vocalist was a bit more subdued (but no less accurate) in voicing his opinion on the matter than he was during that outburst.

Ray and Frank glanced at each other before nodding in agreement. This wasn’t the first time Gerard had gotten like this, but it didn’t mean that they agreed any less. That was a sentiment that the whole band would share too, if you asked any of them.

“Why don’t you walk Shelly back to the bus?” Ray suggested. “It’ll allow her to cool down more without having people gawk at her, and you can make sure that she gets there without being harassed.”

Frank opened his mouth to make some kind of… Frank comment, but Lux shot him such a look he gulped down the words again.

Not that Shelly or Gerard noticed that. Or the looks the rest of the band kept sharing. She kept glancing from the others to him, back to whoever made a noise, or whoever said something, but she always ended up looking at Gerard again. Gerard, on the other hand, kept glancing up at her, and then back at his lap again.

“Um,” Gerard pushed himself off of the sofa and to his feet. “Um, yeah, sure, I can do that.”

Shelly smiled a little before going to grab her small bag. She had no complaints about this proposed plan. Of course not, why would she? Once she’d grabbed her bag, she shouldered it and waited for Gerard.

“Hold on,” he said, untying his hoodie from around his waist before he offered it to her.

She side eyed him a little, her eyes darting from the offered hoodie to his face.

“Just until we get there,” Gerard said.

“Okay, I guess, but why?” She took it, but still looked very confused.

“Um,” Gerard swallowed and avoided her eyes. “Well…”

“Your shirt is very see through Shell,” Frank finished for Gerard.

“I wouldn’t put it past someone to throw something on you to get it to be both clingier and more see through,” Ray added.

Gerard exhaled deeply through his nose, cross at the thought of someone doing that to her. But on the other hand… He tried really hard not to think about the results of those actions.

“It’s days like this that I’m glad I’m not sexy,” Lux shook her head.

Mikey’s eyes widened at Lux’s words.

“Psh! Nonsense!” Shelly put Gerard’s hoodie on and zipped it up. “Yes, you are.”

Gerard watched her while she did that. He hoped he had a neutral, quiet expression on his face. Because his mind was very, very loud - seeing Shelly wearing his clothes like that.

“Nah,” Lux shook her head again. “I’m not. But! Let’s not worry about that right now. Go ahead, get out of here.”

Mikey squinted at Lux, his brain naturally and automatically disagreeing and arguing with her. Not that his mouth would go along with that right then; his mouth would stay quiet. He still couldn’t really decide if that was a good thing or not.

“Go on ahead Shell,” Ray nodded to the blonde. “We’ll catch up later on.”

“Hmn,” Shelly eyed him suspiciously for a moment, shouldering her bag again. After a minute, she shrugged. “You’ve got the other set of bus keys, right?”

Ray nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

“He is the responsible Band Dad after all,” Gerard said with a grin, moving to stand next to Shelly.

“Well, one of you has to be the other responsible one,” Shelly edged closer to Gerard, kinda surprised to see him wearing a regular t-shirt. If he had been wearing a long sleeved top, she would’ve been able to gently grab ahold of the sleeve. She was touchy feely like that sometimes.

“Hey!”

She giggled at the exclamation from multiple voices, and gently took Gerard’s hand. “C’mon, before they lynch me.”

“They wouldn’t dream of it,” he let her take the lead, definitely not complaining about her holding his hand. “See you later guys.”

The others waited until the door closed behind the other two and then for just a moment more. Frank then let out a groan before moving to sit on the couch Shelly had vacated.

“Jesus Christ, they are oblivious!”

“Well, I don’t know if she’s actually said anything to anyone about… Anything,” Ray tried to be diplomatic. “Like, how she feels. But we all know how he feels.”

“Oh, she likes -” Lux started, immediately stopping when her brain caught up with what she almost admitted. She could feel her cheeks starting to get warm because of her slip up.

The other guys looked at her.

“Miss Lux,” Ray tilted his head. “Do you know something?”

Frank tilted his head. “Or, are you just going off of her behaviour?”

“I don’t know if you can do that though,” Mikey said quietly. He was still sitting with Lux practically on his lap, despite the amount of freed up space - Frank had moved over when Gerard had gotten up. “Go off of her behaviour I mean. “She’s pretty affectionate with everyone. All of us anyway.”

Lux glanced around to see the three guys looking at her, clearly expecting some kind of answer. She hesitated for a moment before sighing. Truthfully, Lux did actually know how Shelly felt - the girls had had conversations about it before. Shelly had still been a little bit cagey about her feelings, not wanting to come out and say anything explicitly, just in case she was overheard but she still opened up just enough for Lux to get the picture. The thing was though, Lux didn’t want to outright say for definite how Shelly felt, just in case, so she decided that the best thing to do was to make it seem like she wasn’t positive.

“Listen,” she said quietly. “This doesn’t leave our circle. Okay?”

The three men nodded.

“I think that Shelly does actually like Gerard. Not just in the ‘he’s the favourite’ friendly kinda way.”

“Like, a romantic way?” Mikey clarified.

Lux nodded. “I… I think so.”

Frank looked at Lux, curiously. “Has she said something to you?”

“Frank,” Lux frowned at him, annoyed. “Do you honestly think I’d tell you if she had? You’d go and tattle!”

“I would not!” Frank pouted.

“It would be good for them to sort themselves out though,” Ray mused quietly.

“Gerard did nearly punch a guy for her after all,” Frank said.

“I think we’ve all nearly done that though,” Mikey said before nodding over to Ray. “You nearly did today!”

Ray just smiled.

“I would if I had the chance,” Lux added, smiling when the others nodded. Because she would - she’d fight for that girl.

“And,” Ray added. “We all remember having to hold Shelly back from, more than likely, badly hurting Bert.”

“That was hot though,” Frank said. “Little Miss Spitfire!”

“I’ll admit that I didn’t think that she had that in her,” Mikey said with a shake of his head.

Lux pouted. “I’m kinda gutted that I missed that.”

“But, it was probably better that you weren’t actually there; I don’t think we would’ve been able to hold both of you back,” Ray rubbed the back of his neck.

“Oh definitely, there’s no way I would’ve just stood there and let him say that shit about Shell.”

“We know,” Frank nodded with a smile. “We’re the same.”

“Especially Gerard,” Ray said with a grin.

Lux giggled. “Well, yeah, but we all know that.”

“He’s proven that by his reactions every so often,” Frank said with a nod.

“Not just by reacting to people saying things about her in front of us, but by the speeches he keeps giving,” Mikey added.

“Oh, like the one to us earlier?” Lux asked, getting nods. “It clearly really annoys him. But is that because it’s aimed at Shell, or does it annoy him in general?”

“It annoys him in general,” Ray said. “He’d feel that way even if Shell wasn’t around.”

Mikey nodded. “Yeah, we kinda had that attitude installed in us by our grandma. Respect and all of that.”

“So he’s double annoyed because not only is it an attitude he doesn’t like, it’s an attitude towards the girl he’s crushing on?” Lux said with a nod.

“Exactly,” Ray nodded. “It’s a feeling we all share so the mood surrounding it is amplified.”

“Speaking of crushing,” Frank shook his head. “Why can’t they see what we can? Or at least, why can’t she see it? We know he’d never believe it.”

“She’s being professional,” Lux said. “She loves her job, remember?”

“That covers her behaviour,” Frank replied. “Like, why she hasn’t made a move, why she’s not reading into things -”

“He’s said that he doesn’t want to risk losing her,” Mikey said from his spot with Lux. “He’d rather have her around as she is, with him pining a little bit, than not have her in his life at all.”

“He doesn’t want her to go and work for someone else either,” Ray added. “I think that’s the main reason he falls back on. He keeps saying that he doesn’t want the band to lose her.”

“I mean,” Mikey tilted his head. “She works so hard for us, having her go and put all that effort into another band? That would really suck.”

“She wouldn’t leave us though, would she?” Lux asked before her voice dropped in volume a bit, exposing a bit of her vulnerable, squishy centre. “I mean, I don’t think… I don’t think she’d leave me…”

“She wouldn’t want to,” Frank said quietly and genuinely. He recognised that Lux was opening up a little bit, and while she was pretty comfortable with them now, she didn’t do that very often. “She’d try and cope if it was a bit awkward, and see how long she could cope for. She’d hold on for as long as she could.”

“Yeah,” Ray nodded. “She really adores us as a band, she really believes in us and what we stand for.”

“She really loves you though,” Frank said to Lux.

“Are you just saying that?”

He shook his head and Lux snorted.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“You forget that she and I spend a lot of time together when she’s looking after me when I’m sick. We talk a lot during those times, about a lot of things. And, almost every time you come up in conversation, Shelly says something like…” Frank paused to try and quote Shelly directly. “She says something like; ‘I love that girl and I will fight anyone about it’ - which scares me a little, as I’ve seen her start a fight.”

Lux studied him for a moment.

“I agree with Frank,” Ray said quietly. “She really does love you. She’s so very protective of you.”

“You’re just as protective of her too,” Mikey added.

“Sometimes it feels like you’re more protective of her than we are,” Frank said.

“I suppose I can hit more people than you guys,” Lux said after some thought. “I can hit girls who start and I can hit guys. You guys can’t really go for the girls.”

“That’s fair,” Ray nodded. “You’re not picky about who you’ll go after if they hurt someone you care about.”

“That’s right!” Lux beamed before turning to Mikey. “Look, I know he’s your brother, and the band’s lead man, but if he hurts her -”

“He’ll have a line of people after him,” Mikey said with a small nod. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t get special treatment. I’m not gonna stick up for him just because he’s my brother - especially if he’s actually in the wrong.”

“If anything,” Frank said. “He’s under double scrutiny; he has even less of a pass.”

“And considering he doesn’t have a pass anyway,” Ray added.

“None of you get a pass,” Lux looked around at the three men. “If any of you hurt her, I will come for you.”

They all nodded solemnly.

“We don’t plan on doing that Lux,” Ray said. “We promise.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to have to break anything for any of you,” Lux smiled as innocently as she could manage.

The group fell quiet for a little bit, enjoying the coolness of the room, because of course Shelly had been right; of course she’d picked somewhere that would’ve fitted her needs at the time.

“Do you think if we give them enough time alone, one of them might say something?” Mikey asked the room.

“We give them a lot of time alone and no-one’s done anything yet,” Ray shook his head.

“Yeah, but he might accidentally say something while she’s…” Frank paused. “While she’s scantily dressed. He might be so distracted by her bra and her legs and all of that skin that he forgets his filter.”

Lux rolled her eyes and shook her head at Frank’s words, although she wouldn’t deny that he had a point. Shelly could be quite distracting sometimes; Lux definitely agreed with that. She was a little guilty of having a wandering eye when Shelly was involved. Especially if the blonde was wearing a little less than normal or a lower cut top. The drummer was not immune to Shelly’s particular… Charms.

Not that Lux would ever admit to Frank being right. Nor would she really admit to (sometimes) being no better than a man when it came to their tiny tour manager. Not that Shelly minded - she’d said so once or twice when the girls had been sharing a room. Despite the fact that Lux essentially had permission to gaze at Shelly like that, she still felt a little… Nervous about it. She didn’t think she was going to stop, but she also wasn’t going to be obvious about it.

Especially not in front of Frank. And maybe Gerard. Poor boy had enough to deal with, with Frank flirting with his crush all the time, he didn’t need the reminder that Shelly played for both teams. Not just because that might be a distracting thought, but also because that might make him feel even more like he didn’t have a chance with her. Which was such a lie, because he totally did.

“How likely do you think that might happen?” Frank asked Mikey, breaking the silence they’d fallen into for a few minutes.

“Um,” Mikey shifted in his seat. “It’s not impossible. I know we’ve given him the idea that she might have similar feelings.”

“He’s listened to us, has he?” Frank raised an eyebrow.

“Well,” Mikey scratched his neck. “Yeah, of course he’s listened. He doesn’t believe a word of it, but I know he’ll take things on board. They'll stick in the back of his mind and linger.”

“I know I’ve tried to coax Shelly into opening up to him,” Lux said before remembering that she was supposed to be pretending that she wasn’t sure how Shelly felt. “If she has any kinda feelings for him, I mean.”

Frank side-eyed the drummer. He didn’t believe that she was unsure about how Shelly felt, he thought that she knew for definite. But, he wasn’t gonna call her out - he understood that Shelly would’ve told Lux in confidence. Even if she never planned on doing anything, Shelly might’ve felt better just telling someone. They all knew that Shelly valued loyalty and trust, but he didn’t think that she would be mad that Lux had let slip about the blonde’s feelings for the vocalist. Especially not if they could all encourage the pair to get their acts together and just… Confess how they felt about each other, to each other. The rest of the band could see it, the rest of the band didn’t have a problem with it; hell, they all wanted the two to get together. They just needed to get on and do it.

“They would be so cute together,” Lux shook her head slightly, having noticed Frank’s side eye. “They’re so perfect for each other!”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Frank said before letting out a soft sigh. “You’re right there. They are perfect for one another.”

“She brings out a lot of good in him,” Mikey added. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at someone the way he looks at her.”

“That’s kinda gross, to be honest,” Frank pulled a face jokingly before shaking his head.

“I think I’ve seen her look at him the same way though,” Lux continued to at least try to pretend that she didn’t know anything for certain. “She’s normally so smart. I wish she would just continue to use that big brain of hers.”

“Not just a big brain she has,” Frank grinned.

Lux looked around for something to throw at him, and, when she didn’t find anything, started to get up to go and hit the guitarist. Mikey grabbed at her to stop her.

“Leave it Lux,” Mikey said quietly. “I don’t think Shell would be impressed if we went back to the bus after having been fighting each other.”

She huffed but did as she was told before turning back to Frank. “Don’t be so crude!”

Frank giggled, mostly at Mikey holding Lux back and at Lux doing as she was told. Normally she only really listened to Shelly, so to see her listen to someone else was amusing to him. Actually, seeing her listen to anyone at all was funny.

“I mean it!” Lux continued, frowning at Frank’s giggle. “She doesn’t need or deserve to be objectified all the time!”

“She likes it though.”

“Not all of the time,” Lux shook her head. “Just like… Give the girl a break?”

“She’s not even here!”

“That’s not the point!”

“Well!” Ray said, a little louder than normal in an attempt to get the other two to stop, bickering a bit. “Enough of all that! Let’s get back to the matter at hand, shall we?”

“Which was trying to get Gee and Shelly to get their acts together,” Mikey said with a nod as Lux and Frank huffed a bit between them. “Via more encouragement and time alone together.”

“Yeah,” Ray nodded. “All we can do is try, right? Try and give them as much time as we can and just hope it works.”

The others nodded. There really wasn’t a lot else they could do, except maybe lock them both in a room until they were forced to talk, but they knew that Shelly wouldn’t like that. She’d feel betrayed, trapped and uncomfortable. And that was the last thing they wanted.

“Yeah,” Frank shook his head. “Let’s just hope they get their acts together before we have to properly intervene!”

“Because nobody wants that!”

#She Speaks #She Writes #my fanfic #Gerard Way fan fic #Gerard Way x OFC #MCR fanfic

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keefwho · 24 days

Text

September 02 - 2024 Monday

10:30pm

6/10

Today went by kind of quickly, I basically jumped from one project to another and didn't really stop aside from my normal breaks. I watched some more of that wolf show this morning and Summer Camp Island. I wish I could put more focus into it though. Something I did notice about today is how easily I can get into this cycle of work where I burn myself out and it's simply because I'm trying to do too many things at once in my head and not taking even small meaningful breaks. I think I've attuned myself to this kind of behavior and it is not healthy or efficient so I've been trying to think of ways to improve. I think even 10 minutes of whimsical focus on my funny little cartoon would be great for me.

I had to sketch a lot of commissions today which was a lot of reading/thinking and less drawing which is stressful when I do it on stream because there are big chunks of time where I am doing nothing on screen. It didn't help that I didn't wear my avatar today since I was tired and didn't wanna deal with it. Speaking of tired, I really had to push through my small workout this morning because of that and I did not clean anything. RS joined the stream this morning while he waited for PZ to get to his house. We chatted a good bit and even got some basic plans in the works that I'm kind of interested in. He got me intrigued to do work for TDS again except this time I'd insist I'm paid properly and I'd work at a reasonable pace. This could be the extra income I want to make for MFF in december. I had meant to take a nap before lunch but I didn't have time.

Lunch was weird because I didn't have an appetite but I was hungry. I made soup and I put garlic in it which was a mistake but I still ate it. I also had crackers with cheese and a couple with jam.

I think I did decent on today's request and I finished a personal drawing of mine. I'm not too proud of how it came out and the numbers reflect how mid it is, it wasn't a very good composition or anything. It has flaws I've been repeating lately regarding how I do limbs and how I organize the foreground objects. I didn't put in the patience I should have. After that I worked on DS's Adora avatar getting it rigged up all nice and tidy in the up to date Unity project I have for her avatars. I was freaking out trying to make sure I didn't screw up any of the animations and toggled because there were so many things connected but I ended up doing it flawlessly and I am very proud. I also added a couple of little things I think she'll like. I was in BR's discord while I worked but I shouldn't have been. I knew I could have used some alone time to decompress and focus but I also haven't been in there for awhile so my obligation to catch up with them defeated my self preservation. When I was done working I played this worm game with them which they were doing for someone's birthday whom I do not know. Then I left to search for avatar hairstyles with DS. We found a few decent ones but we still gotta search more before I'm ready to put them on her.

How I felt tonight highlighted one of the subtle issues I face regularly. I'm not enjoying myself as much as I think I should. I'm moreso in a state of stress during almost anything. It's not severe to be like "hey I'm stressed" but it very slowly whittles me down. I think mindfulness could have helped with it but tonight I'm only mindful after the fact. I feel like anything could be the "break" I need if only I can do it right. It's more of a mindset thing than an activity thing. I also want to figure out how I can get myself some more of that me time I want without having to do something extreme like isolate for 2 days in VRchat. It's hard to do it in small doses I'm finding. With VR, especially on the first day, it was easy because I knew this was all I had to do so there was nothing else to think about or look forward to. How do I operate like that in a shorter time span with stuff around every corner?

I want to check in with my friends tomorrow I think. Maybe I could make some kind of little perspective taking exercise out of it. Just gotta figure out how.

#journal #diary

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Merlin becomes a little obsessed with time, and how it’s running out:

Merlin struggles with a massive workload, and doesn’t understand how to ask for help, even with the simplest tasks, because people are relying on him. For small things, and large. He can’t let anyone down. He can’t.

REQUESTED

TW: not eating or sleeping properly, a little blood

Merlin is tired.

No one really notices the exhaustion, not at first anyway, what they do notice, is how much busier he seems to be.

He’s rushing around the castle so quickly, fetching and carrying things for Gaius, completing various chores for King Arthur, and trying to fix any problem he comes across (both the mundane, and the... less so), that no one sees him for long enough to notice the bags under his eyes. No one notices the way he sways on his feet if he stands still long enough. And if they do notice? Well, he’s rushing off to complete the next task on the list before they can say anything.

The few times he’s stopped to chat, he’s been quiet; polite but not really friendly.

His friends brush it off at first, he’s always been the type to rush places, and they figure he’s just got a lot of things to organise with the Yule celebrations coming up.

It had never really occurred to Merlin, but being the King’s Personal Manservant actually made him one of the most highly ranked servants in the castle. And that meant, everyone asking him for help, all the time.

Anything in the castle that could possibly concern The King, even briefly, was run by Merlin first. Everything from flower arrangements, to the week’s dinner menu, to which chambers to house guests in, to when exactly The King would like this paperwork completed.

It wasn’t too bad at first, Merlin had managed to stay on top of things for years, even during busier times such as these.

But this winter was different somehow.

Merlin was a fully trained physician by this point, and he didn’t like to think about it much, but Gaius was getting older, quicker and quicker it seemed.

This just meant that more and more of the excursions that Gaius used to take outside the Physician’s chambers, were now being passed on to Merlin.

He valued the trust that Gaius placed in him, but a trip to the lower town to treat this year’s strain of flu took him away for almost a week.

Long nights consoling young children who were in pain, followed by long days making it to as many houses as possible, to treat as many people as possible, meant he lost out on a lot of sleep. Especially since his mind was thinking about a million other things at the same time.

After finally getting the outbreak under control, he made quick work of the journey back to the castle, only to find a list of various speeches that needed writing and chores to catch up on, and a long line of panicking servants who needed whatever duties they had double checked.

Merlin had barely caught up on all of that work, staying up late through the night, when a second outbreak occurred in a different section of the city.

Gaius had made it clear to The King that the people’s health, and therefore Merlin’s position as Secondary Physician, should come first; Arthur whole heartedly agreed, and gave Merlin the time off to deal with it happily enough, but that didn’t erase the huge list of things he still had to get done when he returned.

He was only gone for three days this time, but with Yule getting closer and closer and foreign nobles arriving for the celebrations, Merlin had a ridiculous number of things to do when he got back.

The headache that had been coming and going over the last month soon became permanent, and the shaking in his hands became something he had to actively account for any time he carried something heavier than a plate.

Merlin was rushing from the kitchens to the stables after dropping off Arthur’s empty breakfast tray when he heard it.

He paused in the corridor, leaning his weight against the cold stone of the wall as he strained his ears.

Just as he was about to write it off as him hearing things due to the lack of sleep, he heard it again, clearer this time, like someone was crying just on the other side of the stone.

He backtracked down the corridor a few metres, and slowly pushed open the door to a storage room, only to see Annabeth, the castle’s youngest serving girl, having a cut on her cheek being cleaned by George.

The both of them look up in shock at the intrusion, and Merlin clenches his fists as he sees the tears on Annabeth’s cheeks. He is especially worried when he sees the concern, painted clear as day on George’s face. George who was well know for being the least reactionary, most expressionless servant in the castle.

He shuts the door behind him, and walks forward, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. She immediately launches herself forward, and begins crying once again into Merlin’s chest.

He almost falls back, barely able to carry his own weight right now, let alone the weight of a distraught young girl, but thankfully George notices his imbalance and catches him with a firm hand on his back.

Merlin gives him a grateful, but bleary smile, as he strokes a comforting hand up and down Annabeth’s back.

He nods to the bloody cloth in George’s other hand, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

George catches his meaning quickly, and replies in a quiet, but harsh voice:

“Lord Anselm reported that his manservant had taken ill, and requested that Annabeth take over. He was... displeased, with a dropped pillow.”

Merlin frowns in worry, as the girl, barely even fourteen summers, looks up at him with red eyes:

“I didn’t even drop it, it fell off his bed when I had my back turned. But he started yelling and he... he threw an empty goblet at me and then got even angrier at that mess. He wouldn’t let me leave for ages he was just standing over me and screaming.”

Merlin can see George tense in anger out the corner of his eye, and he calmly shushes the girl, wiping away her tears and giving her a small smile:

“He shouldn’t have done that, it wasn’t your fault. George is going to take you to Gaius, to get that looked at properly, and I’ll deal with Anselm until his manservant gets better, ok?”

George frowns slightly, but Annabeth speaks up before he can say anything:

“You won’t get in trouble, will you Merlin?”

Merlin gives her a cheeky wink and ruffles her hair:

“I’m always in trouble.” She giggles slightly, and Merlin counts that as a win.

She steps back, and George takes her hand, but he looks at Merlin, speaking quietly once again:

“Are you sure? I know you’ve got a lot of work at the moment, you can drop her off at Gaius’ and I can serve Lord Anselm, if you like.”

Merlin shakes his head, but realises quickly that was a bad idea as his vision starts swimming. He closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds and takes a deep breath, before looking back at an obviously concerned George and replying:

“No, it’s fine, I can deal with him. All those bloody quests Arthur drags me on means I’m well equipped to deal with people like Lord Anselm. Though I would appreciate it if you could pass by the stables and let them know to have Arthur’s horse prepared for noon, tomorrow.”

The fact that George’s lip twitches only slightly at Merlin’s address of the King, tells Merlin that the man is truly worried about Annabeth, and now probably Merlin’s safety as well.

He nods his head slightly, with a quiet “Of course.” and with that, the three of them leave the storage room.

They head in opposite directions, but after moving only a few feet, George looks back and calls to Merlin over his shoulder.

Merlin turns, slowly this time now that dizziness has become a problem, as George asks with a frown:

“Are you sure you’re alright, Merlin?”

Merlin gives him a small nod and smile, before waving him off:

“Yeah, I’m fine, just tired. I’ll see you later.”

George’s frown deepens, but he nods slightly, and turns back around again, leading Annabeth in the direction of the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin took a deep breath and rubbed harshly at his eyes as he watched them turn the corner, before turning in the opposite direction, and making his way to the guest chambers.

Lord Anselm was a visitor from a neighbouring kingdom, known for his harsh treatment of anyone he deemed below him (which... to be honest... was everyone, as far as he was concerned). He was here for the Yule celebrations, and to suck up to the King no doubt.

Merlin paused outside the room, taking another deep breath and trying to not look so exhausted, before knocking politely on the door.

A voice grumbles from the other side, calling for him to enter.

Merlin entered slowly, and shut the door behind him, immediately spying the Lord eating his breakfast at the table. He was an intimidating man, tall, even taller than Merlin, with a heavy gait, a thick beard, and a permanent scowl.

He looks harshly at Merlin, and roughly asks:

“Who the hell are you? Where’s my girl?”

Merlin clenches his hands behind his back, but replies neutrally, looking somewhere over the Lord’s shoulder:

“I’m afraid she has succumbed to an injury, and won’t be serving you anymore. I’m The King’s personal manservant, meaning I won’t be able to serve you full time. We’re a little understaffed at the moment, My Lord. Is there anything I can do for you this morning?”

The man growls and stands up, stalking quickly towards the manservant.

Merlin was especially glad that he was made aware of his balance and dizziness issues earlier, because if he hadn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have been able to hold himself upright when Lord Anselm swung a harsh fist to the side of his face.

He smirked horribly as he said:

“Insolent little thing, aren’t you? Are all of King Arthur’s servants so pretty?”

Merlin’s head rocked violently to the side, and he took a step back, before righting himself. He took a subtle deep breath as he winced in pain, but schooled his face back into indifference as he returned his gaze to just over The Lord’s shoulder:

“Would you like me to return your tray to the kitchen, My Lord?”

Anselm growled once more, obviously unhappy with the lack of reaction, and brought down a heavy hand on Merlin’s shoulder, leaning in close and snarling:

“You do that, pretty boy.”

Merlin waits impassively for him to release the bruising grip he had on his shoulder, before stepping around him and clearing away the tray.

Lord Anselm stared at him distastefully, but Merlin dutifully ignored it, and headed to the chamber door with the tray of leftovers and dirty plates. Anselm turns quickly towards him:

“Hurry back. I have things that need doing.”

For the first time since he entered the room, Merlin looks him straight in the eyes before saying:

“Like I said My Lord, we’re incredibly understaffed at the moment. I’m afraid no one will be able to serve you until your own manservant recovers from his illness.”

The shocked look on the Lord’s face gives Merlin just enough time to leave the room and hurry half way down the corridor, before Anselm followed him out.

Merlin heard the door bang off the wall as Anselm ripped it open, ready to shout, enraged, but the sight of the guards patrolling the corridor stopped him, and he slammed the door shut again with a huff.

Merlin let out a relieved breath. He had hoped that the sight of the guards would stop him from making a scene, and he was glad he was right.

One of the guards, an older man named Gavin who had always been kind to Merlin, stopped him with a hand on his (unbruised) shoulder:

“You alright Merlin? I though Annabeth was serving him?” He nodded at the other guard to continue on, mumbling that he would catch up in a minute, before looking back at Merlin, who blearily nodded:

“He threw a tantrum, hurt her. George took her to Gaius and I said I would deal with him.”

The guard frowned and muttered “bastard” under his breath, but widened his eyes as he saw the bruise blooming on Merlin’s cheek:

“Bloody hell, Merlin, do you always take over for the violent ones? You should get that checked out.”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head, only slightly:

“It’s fine, I’ve got too much else to deal with at the moment. The manservant he brought with him is sick, and Annabeth is certainly not serving him again, so I told him he would have to deal with minimal serving, until his servant gets better.”

Gavin let out a breath, and chuckled slightly:

“Pfft. Balls of steel, Merlin. Go on, you look in a hurry, I won’t keep you.”

With that, Merlin gives him a brief smile, before rushing towards the kitchens once again, trying not to feint the whole way.

The whole ordeal only pushed him twenty minutes behind, but twenty minutes was a problem when he was already three days behind on Arthur’s laundry, two days behind on stocking up on ingredients for Gaius, and two weeks overdue for a lunch with Gwen.

Plus he still had one speech left to proof read, and considering Arthur wrote it himself, it’s more likely to end up being a full re-write, rather than a proof read.

OH, and that leak that he’d promised the stablehands he would help fix.

Ah shit. He also had to collect Gwaine’s spare sword from the blacksmith at some point, before he forgot again.

AND there was a huge delivery of flowers today, no doubt there would be some sort of problem with that.

All of that, on top of the fact that no one has tried to kill Arthur in recent weeks, and it was starting to unnerve him.

His journey to the kitchens went much like that. Task upon chore upon promise upon paranoid intrusive thought piling up in his head with every step.

He finally got to the kitchen doors, and paused outside. He took a deep, shaky breath, and shut his eyes tight, before forcing his mind to calm, and pushing through the door.

The noise and smells immediately had him turn his head sideways, as if trying to escape the sudden onslaught, but the movement did nothing but force him to realise how much the side of his face had begun to throb.

He took another deep breath as the persistent noise, now in his mind, and out of it, made him want to scream. He resisted the urge, and dumped the tray next to the sink, before rushing out once again, ignoring the glares that the cook sent his way.

As he hurried down the corridor, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in an effort to stop the shaking, he decided that laundry was the priority right now. If he could just get at least one basket done, that would be enough for today at least; and he could read over the speech whilst he did it.

Ok. ok. This is fine.

He finally made it to Arthur’s chambers, bursting in without knocking, and walking straight to the pile of dirty clothes.

He doesn’t even have the energy to be annoyed at the fact that they were on the floor, instead of in the basket, and he certainly isn’t with it enough to notice the conversation between Arthur and George... wait... George??

Merlin is only lets his surprise distract him for a moment before he looks back to the laundry, bending over far too quickly, and having to hold himself up against the wall as his vision swims.

He vaguely hears George calling his name, but he waves his hand behind him absentmindedly and ignores him. He forces his eyes to focus again, as he picks up an armful of clothes.

He stumbles over to the desk, still not paying attention to the other two occupants of the room. He looks around blearily, once again beginning to clench and unclench his hands under the dirty clothes in his arms, just to stop himself from falling over.

He takes a deep breath, and interrupts whatever it is Arthur is saying:

“Speech.”

Arthur is clearly taken aback, having realised that Merlin hasn’t listened to anything either of them has said. George gives him a knowing look behind Merlin’s back, and Arthur frowns.

Merlin turns around, quick enough to make his vision blue once again, but not quick enough to make him fall over, and looks in Arthur’s vague direction:

“Speech. Where is it?”

Arthur gasps as he notices the now deep purple mark up the side of Merlin’s face and steps forward, George follows him, and takes the laundry from Merlin’s hands, and setting it on a chair before turning back to him.

He turns just in time to see Merlin almost tip backwards, and rushes forward, placing firm hand on his back once again.

Arthur slowly brings his hand up, concern written all over his face as his fingers hover just over the bruise:

“Merlin... what happened?”

Merlin rolls his eyes slightly as he turns back around to the desk, gently pushing George’s hand away and looking through the paperwork:

“Fell. Speech? I really do need it Arthur, I don’t have time.”

Arthur looks at George out the corner of his eyes, and George shakes his head, mouthing “Lord Anselm” .

Arthur frowns again, and picks up a piece of paper from his bedside table, going to hand it to Merlin, before snatching it back when he reaches for it:

“Not, until you tell me the truth, Merlin.”

Merlin huffs, and rolls his eyes again, before snapping:

“Fine, Lord Anselm punched me in the face because he’s a Lord and I’m a servant, and he can do whatever he wants to me and that’s nothing out of the ordinary. Speech. Please?”

In Arthur’s shock at Merlin’s bluntness, Merlin leans forward and grabs the piece of paper, before quickly turning away, ignoring the loss of vision at the sharp movement. He knew his way around Arthur’s chambers when he was asleep, he could manage a short black out.

He gathers up the laundry once again, and stumbles towards the door, interrupting Arthur’s:

“Merlin! Will you just-”

With:

“Don’t have time.”

And leaving the room before either of them can say anything more.

Arthur shakes himself free of the shock, and looks to George, bewildered:

“You really weren’t kidding were you? He’s completely out of it. Do you know what’s wrong?”

George frowns only slightly as he replies:

“It’s a busy time of the year My Lord, and we’re rather under staffed at the moment. Merlin has a habit of being unable to say no when people ask for help. That, on top of his normal duties to yourself and Gaius, and having to deal with the flu outbreak, I think- If I may speak freely, Sire?”

Arthur nods immediately:

“Of course, George, always.”

George nods gratefully before continuing:

“I think he’s just a little over-worked at the moment, My Lord. He’s never been good at asking for help.”

Arthur nods and hums thoughtfully. He thinks for a minute before looking back at the servant:

“Hmm. Keep an eye on him, won’t you George? I can’t have him keeling over, and make sure he gets some food in him.-”

George gives a firm nod:

“-Thank you, you’re dismissed, go back to your duties.”

With that, George turns and leaves the room, wiping the worried frown from his face and resetting it into his normal neutrality.

Merlin was unendingly grateful to find that the speech wasn’t actually that bad. By the time he finished hanging Arthur’s clothes to dry, he had a solid idea in his head of all the little bits he needed to tweak. He just needed to get a quill to it, and it’d be done and dusted.

He rushed as quickly as he was able without falling over, back to Arthur’s chambers, opening the door slowly this time; he really didn’t have the time to stop and chat, and if anyone was in there, he would just come back later.

Thankfully, the rooms were empty, and Merlin only had to spend around five minutes sat at the desk (where there was a small plate of food, labelled “For Merlin”, which of course went untouched. Deliberately ignored or just unnoticed, who knows), writing out his adjustments.

Five minutes however, was long enough for him to forget to not move too quickly, and the moment he tried to stand up, he immediately passed out. He fell back into the chair, and slumped forward onto the desk, his bruised cheek landing with a smack on the wood.

He woke again with a start, and jumped up quickly as he ran his hands through his hair roughly. He began to breath deeply, and tears came to his eyes as he brought his hands down roughly, gripping the edge of the table so hard he could feel his hands bruising.

Merlin, after managing to keep what he thought was a tight lid on it all day, was officially panicking.

His cheek was throbbing again, but he could barely feel it, only able to think about how much time he was wasting.

He can’t be taking naps now. He can’t. He doesn’t have the time. He’s still two days behind on laundry, two days behind shopping, two weeks since he’d last properly spoken to Gwen, he can feel a storm in the air so the leak HAS to be fixed now and Gwaine NEEDS his sword and where are those fucking flowers??

The more Merlin’s thoughts rush around his head, the more tasks he remembers that he needs to do, the more he panics. And the more he panics, the less he can breath, and the less he can breath, the more time, he is wasting.

When Merlin finally manages to open his eyes, which he hadn’t realised had been shut painfully tightly, he notices that the shadows on the walls have barely moved since he last checked.

Huh.

Ok.

He breaths slightly easier as he just about manages to drag himself over to a window, peering down into the courtyard below, to see that the castle was still busy.

He must’ve only been passed out for a few minutes at most.

It’s ok. There’s still time.

Merlin takes one last deep breath, pours himself a glass of water from Arthur’s jug and downs it all in one.

Ok. Too much to do, no more wasting time.

Merlin quickly straightens out the desk, leaving the speech in the middle for Arthur to see, and ignores the remaining fuzziness in his head as he stumbles out the door and down to the Physician’s chambers.

Merlin spends the next few hours down at the market.

He could feel his heart pounding louder in his ears with each second that he had to stand and wait in line, but it was no ones fault but his own that he had left the shopping too late.

He just had to be patient. Ignore the headache, ignore the pain in his cheek and shoulder, ignore the bruises on the palms of his hands from where he gripped the table, ignore the paranoid thoughts about assassins and poisoners and bandits.

By the time he made it back to Gaius’ chambers, it was dark. His hands shook violently, and he could barely see what he was unloading from his bags, but he kept pushing forward.

Without sparing a glance towards Gaius, he rushed out of the room again, now unhealthily used to the constant swimming in his vision, he dragged his hand along the stone walls of the castle corridor, and used that to navigate to the kitchen to pick up Arthur’s dinner.

The cook of course yelled at him about being late, but instead of brushing it off like he normally did, he internalised it.

He spent the whole journey up to Arthur’s chambers working himself up.

He was late. He was running out of time. He was so fucking tired. But that’s fine. That’s ok. One more job tonight, and he can rest. Just one.

He delivers Arthur’s food without a word, and if Arthur wasn’t worried before, he definitely was now.

Merlin lays out the meal, and quickly goes about lighting the fire for the night, and turning down The King’s bed. He turns to Arthur, not really bothering to focus his eyes and actually look at him, before saying:

“Anything else tonight, My Lord?”

The lack of sarcasm would be worrying enough to Arthur, but the way Merlin’s eyes stayed unfocussed, even as Arthur walked towards him, and the way his words slurred, almost sent him into a panic.

Merlin finally makes eye contact with him as Arthur grips his shoulders, but he quickly lets go when Merlin flinches in pain.

Fuck that hurt.

He’d forgotten about the bruised shoulder.

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Merlin, are you alright? You look exhausted, you look sick. And you didn’t eat the food George left out.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, and moves towards the door, rolling his shoulder slightly to try and sooth the ache:

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine, and I’m not a dog Arthur. Just lots to do. Am I dismissed?”

Arthur nods slowly, but suddenly adds, as Merlin gets to the door:

“Yes, but only if you get something to eat and then go straight to bed. Get some sleep Merlin, whatever it is, can wait until morning.”

Merlin doesn’t look back at him, just waves his hand over his shoulder as he shuts the door behind him.

Ok. One more job. Just one more and then sleep. Maybe. He did have some useful new spells he needed to memorise... having as little time as he does means he should probably get at least a few done tonight.

Ok. One more job, then he can sit in bed and memorise some of those spells, then maybe he can get an hour or two of sleep before sunrise bought tomorrow’s jobs.

He headed over to the stables, at this time of night no one should be around, he can wave his hand, make some sparks, and the leak would be gone.

He halts in his tracks and his eyes widen as he subconsciously begins clenching and unclenching his hands once again.

No.

The stablehands know he promised to fix it. If they see it’s been fixed with some sort of miracle, instead of patched up properly, they’ll know.

Maybe he’s just being paranoid, but he’s also running on no food, no sleep, and a potential concussion. Trying to use magic right now was probably not his best idea.

He forces his hands to still, and continues his trek across the courtyard, towards the stables.

The next time he stops, it’s because he hears the distinct sound of an armoured guard falling to the floor (the fact that he recognises the sound immediately, should tell you all you need to know about how insane Merlin’s life is).

Merlin rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose briefly as he mumbles:

“For fucks sake, I knew it had been too long.”

Without wasting another second, Merlin turns back around, and sneaks carefully to where he’d heard the noise come from.

He finally spies the slumped guard by the main entrance to the castle, and after establishing that the attacker was long gone, he rushes over.

The growing puddle of blood, and lack of pulse, worries Merlin endlessly. Whoever did this was good, the guard never saw it coming, and now he was dead.

Merlin doesn’t want to leave him like this, but in all likelihood, the assassin was going to head straight to Arthur’s chambers, and Merlin had to catch up before he could do any damage.

The exhausted manservant rushes through the large doors, trying ever so hard to focus eyes, and not quite managing it, but powering through anyway. Thankfully he new the route to Arthur’s chambers by heart, he didn’t have to be able to see to know where he was going.

He’s already out of breath before he even reaches the staircase that leads up to the royal chambers, but he doesn’t have the time to stop and catch his breath. Arthur was in danger, and as per fucking normal, Merlin was the only one that seemed to know anything about it.

He forced himself up the steps, being mindful of his weak legs and using the wall to pull himself up as quick as he could.

He swore to himself as he turned the corner to see the vague outline of a man with a dagger slip unnoticed through the doors to Arthur’s chambers.

Where the fuck were the rest of the guards?? Merlin had expected to see a few more bodies on his way up but there had been none. Shift change over maybe? In which case, how did the assassin know?

He pushes the thoughts to the back of his mind; something to worry about later, as he sprints down the corridor.

He almost falls several times, tripping over nothing but his own exhaustion, but he uses his own momentum to stop himself tipping over, forcing his feet to just keep moving forward.

He bursts into the room loudly, and the assassin, who had almost reached Arthur slumped over asleep on his desk, whips his head around to stare at him in shock.

The King mumbles from his spot on the desk:

“Merlin... I told you to get some sleep.”

That seems to snap the assassin out of his surprise, and he lurches towards Arthur, bringing the dagger up so he could swing it down viciously into his back, but Merlin rushes forward to meet him.

He shoves Arthur’s chair with as much force as he can muster, and steps into the space it had resided in as Arthur sprawls on the floor, cursing loudly.

It takes only a second for Arthur to be on his feet, a sword that was hidden under the desk gripped in his hand and any remaining sleepiness scrubbed from his face, but that second is all it takes for the dagger to sink with sickening force into Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin gasps and staggers back as Arthur steps forward, swinging the hilt of his sword down onto the attacker’s head, and with a loud thunk, the would-be assassin drops to the floor, unconscious.

Arthur turns quickly towards Merlin, who was leaning against the wall, dagger still planted deeply in his shoulder, and once again curses loudly. He rushes forward to catch his manservant just as he falls, widening his eyes as he notices the rapidly growing crimson stain on his tunic:

“GUARDS!!” he yells it towards the still open door, but looks to Merlin as he mumbles:

“Shift... change. No one there yet.” with a groan.

Arthur curses for a third time, as he pulls Merlin’s uninjured arm around his neck, and starts to stagger towards the door, dragging Merlin, who is basically a dead weight at this point.

The manservant groans, not sure if it’s the constant, background panic that’s seemed to plague him the last few weeks, or the pain of the newest stab wound that’s making him dizzy, but either way... ow.

Merlin finally manages to raise his gaze to realise that Arthur is currently dragging him past the closest exit to the stables (god knows how they’d gotten that far without Merlin noticing), and he half-heartedly pulls away.

Arthur almost stumbles with Merlin’s sudden movement, but says strongly:

“No not that way Merlin, gotta get to Gaius, you’re going to ok, alright?”

Merlin’s breath deepens in panic, and Arthur, mistaking it’s meaning, says:

“Almost there, Merls, don’t worry, Gaius will fix you right up, just hang on a little more for me.”

Merlin tries to pull away again, going so far as to softly thump Arthur on the chest to make him let go (it doesn’t work, he’s far too weak):

“No... no, you don’t.... understand. I can‘t, I don’t.... I don’t have time.”

Arthur frowns at him, but continues moving in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. He turns his concerned face away from Merlin, to see two guards turning into the corridor ahead of them:

“HEY!! One of you go to my chambers to collect the would-be assassin, and one of you run ahead to Gaius to warn him we’re coming; deep stab wound to the shoulder. Tell anyone you might see to be on high alert, an attempt on my life has been made.”

Arthur growls as they just stand in shock, obviously taken aback at the sight of the King near dragging an almost dead-looking servant down the corridor towards:

“NOW!”

With that they jump into action, one of them sprinting back the way Arthur and Merlin had come, the other sprinting ahead, to warn Gaius.

Arthur looks back down to Merlin, trying to pick up his pace as he notices him grow weaker and weaker:

“Come on, only a few more corridors Merlin, then Gaius will take care of you and you can sleep it off. I’ll even give you tomorrow off, how does that-”

Before Arthur can finish his question, Merlin moans, and tries to pull away again:

“No... time. Too many things to do... not... no time. Leak...”

Arthur stares at him in confusion as Merlin trails off, but blinks in surprise, as he gains a sudden burst of lucidity again:

“NO! Leak needs... sorting. Flowers and... Gwaine’s sword. Check on... Annabeth-”

He pulls away from Arthur far more violently this time, and the King drops him as he staggers from the force.

Arthur curses and kneels down, panicked as he tries to get his arms under Merlin’s weight again. Which Merlin is making very difficult.

The manservant can’t really feel the pain at this point. All he knows is that time is passing. Time that should be spent fixing things. Whatever stupid thing Arthur wants right now needs to wait.

Leak. Then spells. Then catch up on laundry through the night. Then check on the flowers in the morning. Hopefully lunch with Gwen. Sword next. Then. Then he can maybe think about whatever is happening right now.

Arthur finally gets his hands under Merlin’s arms and pulls him up, growing more and more worried as Merlin tries to wiggle away, like he doesn’t want to get treated.

Only one more corridor.

Arthur continues his journey through the halls, breathing deeply with the exertion.

Merlin had lost the last of his strength trying to escape, and the fall to the floor had knocked his other injuries slightly, so Arthur was forced to pick him up, carrying the limp man bridal style.

He finally made it to Gaius’ chambers, to see the guard holding open the door, and Gaius rushing around, gathering various ingredients and tools.

Arthur bolts through the door, not even looking at the guard as he spots the empty cot in the middle of the room, and carefully lays a clearly delirious Merlin down.

The dark haired boy continues to mumble, a frown etched deeply onto his features:

“No... time... too much else... to worry about...”

Arthur calms his own breathing before looking back to the guard:

“Make sure the alarm is sounded. Find out if the assassin was caught and report back to me as soon as you know anything. I’ll be here.”

The guard nods firmly before running out of the room, and Arthur turns his attention back to Merlin. He gasps as he notices blood dripping from the palms of his hands, and lurches forward, forcing Merlin’s fingers to uncurl.

Arthur realises with a numb horror, that something much more than the stab wound is wrong with his... friend. This isn’t even close to the worst injury he’s ever seen Merlin get, but still he lies here, panicking about something to such an extent that he drew blood with his own nails.

Gaius finally bustles over, and without even looking at him, forcefully tells Arthur:

“Hold him down, he’s in no sort of mental state for me to treat him awake, so I need to get this down him and he won’t... appreciate it.”

The King notices the vial of foul-smelling liquid in Gaius’ hands, and quickly moves around to stand behind Merlin’s shivering form.

He presses one hand down onto his uninjured shoulder, and bends over, leaning his other forearm across his chest, trying desperately to avoid aggravating the dagger still imbedded in his shoulder.

Once he’s secure, Gaius pinches Merlin’s nose, and pours the liquid into his mouth, quickly dropping the vial onto the table beside him, and massaging his throat to help it go down.

Merlin spasms for a few seconds and kicks out, but Arthur just about manages to hold him steady before he finally goes limp, his eyes rolling back, and his hands hanging off the side of the cot.

Arthur steps back, and collapses in a chair at Merlin’s side, before looking up at Gaius. The King watches the Physician bring over a pair of scissors and cut Merlin’s blood soaked tunic away, before examining the wound, and carefully removing the dagger.

Arthur tries to calm his heart rate, and takes deep breaths as he watches Gaius work, knowing that the injury, though bloody, was not life threatening.

At some point during the process of the wound being cleaned, stitched, and dressed, the guard from earlier had re-entered the chambers to say:

“The assassin was found and taken to the dungeons, sire. The castle is on high alert, and patrols are looking for any accomplices, though currently it appears the man was working alone. Two guards have been found dead, one at the castle gate, and one at the main entrance to the building.”

Arthur vaguely remembers nodding, and dismissing the guard; telling him to keep him updated, before focusing back on Merlin.

When Gaius finally slumps into the chair opposite Arthur, on Merlin’s other side, The King takes a deep breath, before asking quietly:

“What’s wrong with him, Gaius? I mean besides the obvious? George said-”

Before Arthur can finish, three thunderous pairs of feet burst through the door.

The King looks up to see Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon enter the room in a hurry. Gwen answers his questioning gaze with:

“The three of us were together when a guard told us what happened. Will he be alright?”

Gaius gives them a comforting, but strained smile, as they move towards the cot:

“He’ll be fine my dear, with time.”

Gwen moves quickly to stand by Arthur’s side, and takes one of Merlin’s limp hands in her own as she blinks away tears, her other hand covering her mouth. Gwaine rushes to the end of the cot, looking down at his best friend with a pained expression, and resting a hand on his leg. Leon steps into place above Merlin’s head, stroking a gentle hand through his hair, before focusing his concerned expression on Arthur in question.

Arthur huffs, but pays them no mind as he looks back at Gaius:

“Like I was saying, what’s wrong with him? George said he was acting oddly, and he seemed... almost sickly the last time I saw him. Then all the way here he was trying to get away from me, he just kept muttering about time, and saying he had things to do.”

Gwaine growls, and before Gaius can reply, he snarls out:

“You’ve been bloody overworking him, that’s what’s wrong. Look at him, he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.”

Arthur looks up, annoyed:

“That’s exactly why I’ve been giving him fewer chores, Sir Gwaine. I didn’t give him anything specific to do today, and when I told him he would have some time off on the way here, he freaked. Pulled away, I dropped him, and he just began muttering about not having time, having too much to do.”

Gwen clears her throat before timidly saying:

“He has been acting a bit strange. He seemed a little stressed after the first outbreak, but I figured that was normal for this time of year and let him be. Then he got back so late last night, and every time I saw him today he just seemed... more and more panicked. I tried to stop him a few times but he ignored me, like his mind was completely elsewhere.”

Arthur frowns at that, and Leon speaks next, his hand still absentmindedly carding through Merlin’s hair:

“Hmm. He’s been looking unwell; swaying on his feet, leaning on walls. I saw him in the market earlier today and he looked about ready to feint, but I was pulled away by a few guards. When I looked back again, he was stumbling away in the opposite direction. He looked in a rush, so like Gwen, I let him be. Perhaps he hasn’t been sleeping well?”

Gaius looks grim, and nods:

“I heard him moving about all through last night. I got up to offer him a sleeping draught but he refused, saying he had things to do. I got the impression this morning that he didn’t sleep a wink. And I remember what the yearly flu excursions were like, I doubt he slept any better whilst he was treating people in the lower-town.”

The three of them look troubled. How had they let it get this far? Merlin was clearly some sort of sick, and no one had noticed until he was ignoring stab wounds and clawing at his own skin.

Leon tilted Merlin’s head, frown deepening as he spots the purple bruise over his cheek, now also stretching up into his temple and into his hairline. His voice came out a mumble, as if he were speaking to himself:

“What happened here?”

Arthur’s face darkened, and he replied lowly:

“Lord Anselm. I informed him to leave my kingdom and told him not to come back until he could refrain from beating my staff.”

Leon nodded, face angry, and Gwaine replied:

“Bet he didn’t like that, the bastard.”

Arthur looked up at Gaius, and cleared his throat before asking:

“What do you suggest, Gaius? He’s clearly not... ok.”

Gaius sighed once more, looking down at the man who had become his son, before saying quietly:

“I imagine all three of us are right, in a way. He’s overworked, stressed, and lacking sleep. That mixed with a punch hard enough to give him a mild concussion, and the fact he likely hasn’t eaten very well over the last few weeks, led to a... miniature break down, of sorts.-”

He looks up at Arthur, who is struggling to hide how distraught he is, with grim determination:

“-He will need time off to recover. More than a few days, likely. And support. He has learnt to rely on no one but himself in recent years. Dealing with a workload that multiple people would struggle with all on his own, was almost certainly what led to his obsession with time, time running out. You will need to reassure him that any tasks he is worried about are being completed just fine without him, otherwise he’ll panic.”

Arthur nods before replying, his voice thick:

“Of course. Whatever he needs. He mentioned... a leak? And flowers, Gwaine’s sword. He mumbled a few other things as well, but I couldn’t hear him. He said something about Annabeth?”

Gaius rubs his eyes as he nods slowly:

“Yes, George bought Annabeth by earlier. Lord Anselm had hurt her and Merlin sent the two of them here before he went to deal with the Lord.-”

He looked up to see Arthur sporting a vicious frown, and continues:

“-She’s fine now, just a little shaken, her injuries will heal in a week or so. The other things he mentioned to you though...”

Arthur sighs, but Gwen speaks up, still clutching Merlin’s hand, before he can say anything:

“I overheard some of the stable-hands worrying about a leak in the stable, knowing Merlin, he probably offered to help them. And the flowers... well there was supposed to be a delivery today, for the feast decorations, but it hasn’t arrived yet.”

Arthur nods, and Gwaine swallows, looking a little guilty, before saying:

“He ran my spare sword to the blacksmith about a week ago, for repairs. I told him there was no rush, but he must’ve got in a panic about it.”

Arthur nods, but raises his eyes to Gwen in confusion:

“Ok, the sword and the leak I understand, but the flowers? Why would a castle delivery be any concern of his??”

Gwen widens her eyes in surprise, and Leon makes a disbelieving noise, before saying:

“Sire, with all due respect, Merlin is the King’s Personal Manservant. Of course it concerns him.”

At the growing confusion on Arthur’s face, Leon sighs. He drags a chair forward, and sits in his place behind Merlin’s head as he continues to absent-mindedly run his fingers through the man’s hair:

“My Lord, everything that has anything to do with you, gets run by Merlin first. Pretty much every non-political decision not directly made by you, is made by Merlin. I always thought it was rather hilarious that he didn’t seem to realise how much power he has within the castle.”

Arthur widens his eyes in realisation, and slumps back in his seat:

“I had no idea... no wonder he’s so exhausted all the time. He’s practically running the castle behind my back.”

Gwen nods sympathetically, but Gwaine still looks a little annoyed as he grinds out:

“Honestly princess. How did you think it was that the visitors you liked least were always housed in the chambers furthest away from yours? Or how the castle kitchen is always stocked up on your personal favourites? Or perhaps how council meetings always seem to be at a time most convenient for you, despite you never rearranging your own schedule? When we all joke about how you wouldn’t last a day without Merlin... we mean it. He doesn’t just dress you and feed you and sing you to sleep, he runs your whole life, mate.”

Leon and Gwen nod, and Arthur sighs, and the room goes silent for a few minutes, the only noise being Merlin’s ragged breathing.

Arthur finally straightens up, and nods to himself slightly:

“Right. Merlin gets every Monday off, no matter what, including his physician duties where possible. George is going to be reassigned as an... assistant of sorts; Merlin will hate it but I don’t care, he needs the help. He’s also going to get a bloody great big pay rise, and new chambers with a big desk. And that’s just to start with.”

Gaius raises his infamous eyebrow, but Arthur ignores it, he can see the hint of pride in his eyes. Gwen and Leon smile and nod, and Gwaine huffs before muttering:

“Yeah, that better be just to start with. Kid deserves the world.”

Arthur stands from his chair and begins pacing, before looking back to the others in a hurry:

“Ok, Gwen, can you go find the Housekeeper, inform her that I want a few more servants to be hired, on a permanent basis. The castle is obviously understaffed if Merlin is the only one fixing everyone else’s problems. Take Gwaine with you, a guard informed me the assassin had been caught and was likely working alone, but just in case.-”

With that, Gwen nods and leaves, closely followed by Gwaine, who stops only to give Arthur a short, assessing gaze, before giving him a nod and leaving.

“-Leon, find the Steward, and George if you can. Find a set of chambers that can be reassigned to Merlin, and tell them to begin the process immediately. Not too big, he’d complain and refuse to use them but... oh you know what he’s like, I trust you’ll pick something to his... tastes.”

Leon gives Arthur another smile, before heading towards the door. Just before he can leave, Arthur calls out for him again:

“And if you could have a plate of food sent here as soon as possible. I don’t think he’s eaten all day and we’ll need to get something down him when he wakes up.”

Leon nods, and leaves without another word. Arthur collapses back into his chair before looking at Gaius, and blushing at the fond smile on the older man’s face:

“What?”

Gaius just shakes his head as his smile grows:

“Nothing, my boy. I’m just glad you’re finally realising at least a little of what Merlin sacrifices for you.”

Arthur frowns and tilts his head:

“You mean there’s more he’s giving up than sleep, food, and any and all free time he has?”

Gaius drops his smile fractionally, but covers it quickly (not quick enough that Arthur didn’t notice however) :

“Hmm. Nothing that you need to worry yourself over, My Lord.”

Arthur’s frown deepens:

“Well now I’m just going to worry about it even more. What is it Gaius? If you won’t tell me what the problem is, at least tell me the solution.”

Gaius settles a heavy, pensive gaze on Arthur, and stays silent for a few moments before answering slowly and quietly:

“A long time a go, I gave Merlin some... difficult, advice, pertaining to which secrets he should keep to himself. Perhaps when he wakes I shall rescind said advice. But ultimately, whether he tells you the true extent of his... well, truth, or not, is up to him. I advise you not to push him.”

Arthur huffs:

“So he’s hiding something from me?”

Gaius gives The King a sympathetic smile:

“He’s hiding a multitude of things from a multitude of people. There are very few people who know Merlin fully. His life has been... difficult, from birth, to such an extent that not even I’m aware of what’s going through his mind, the pain he suffers, and I live with him.-”

Gaius stops hesitantly, but Arthur nods for him to continue. He looks deeply troubled, before saying:

“All I can request Sire, is that, if he does decide that he trusts you enough to reveal himself fully, let him finish the story in it’s entirety before you start forming conclusions, and remember, that everything he does, he does for Camelot, for you.”

Arthur’s face shows slight confusion, but he nods firmly. He may not fully understand what on earth Gaius is talking about, but he has a feeling he’ll know it when he sees it. Plus, Merlin means a great deal to him, and the man obviously does a lot for him, the least Arthur can do in return is sit patiently and wait for Merlin to come to him with whatever truth Gaius thinks is so worrying.

It was late in the night when Merlin started to stir, only a few hours until sunrise.

Arthur and Gaius had both fallen asleep after checking over Merlin’s bandages. Gaius had settled in a cot in the corner of the room, and Arthur was curled up in his seat, Merlin’s hand clutched in his.

Arthur woke slowly at first, and then all at once, when he realised that Merlin’s hand was twitching in his own. He leaned forward on his seat, frowning, as he stroked Merlin’s forehead gently with his other hand.

Merlin’s eyes blinked open, as he muttered Arthur’s name. The King smiled gently, placing a comforting hand in the centre of Merlin’s chest, and squeezing his hand slightly:

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

Merlin frowns slightly, before he gasps with wide eyes and tries to sit up. Arthur pushes back gently against his chest, and Merlin is far too weak to do anything about it as Arthur speaks quietly:

“No no no, you stay right there. You need to get better before you start rushing around again.”

Merlin frowns and begins to breath deeply:

“No, I don’t have the time Arthur, there’s too much I gotta do.”

He tries to sit up again, but Arthur holds him down, struggling to think of what to say to calm his manservant down before he did more damage to himself:

“No there isn’t. You can’t do anything when you’re sick and injured, alright?-”

At Merlin’s panicked expression, Arthur hurries to continue:

“Don’t worry, Merlin. Gwen spoke to the housekeeper about hiring some new servants to help. I’m going to get Percival to fix the leak in the stable later, Gwaine doesn’t need his sword for at least a few days, and to be perfectly honest, he can get it himself. The housekeeper will deal with the flowers, and Annabeth is fine, Gaius saw her earlier and sent her home for the day. There’s nothing for you to worry about, ok?”

Merlin frowns, and blinks blearily, clearly beginning to lose his lucidity:

“Are you ok? The... assassin... looked pretty... pretty... serious...”

He trails off, but refuses to close his eyes, and lifts a shivering hand to loosely clasp Arthur’s wrist as Arthur replies:

“You haven’t slept or eaten properly in days, you’ve been smacked around and stabbed, and you’re asking me if I’m ok?”

At Merlin’s once again panicked expression, Arthur sighs:

“Yes Merlin, I am one hundred percent ok, and so is everyone else. The assassin was caught, everyone is safe, and there’s nothing that you need to think about right now. Let go, get some sleep.”

Merlin frowns indignantly, and murmurs:

“I’ve already... slept too... long... gotta-”

Arthur huffs before interrupting him:

“Being unconscious is not the same as being asleep. Go to sleep Merlin. I promise, I will wake you up if you are needed in any way... do... do you trust me?”

Merlin looks at him oddly, before his eyelids flutter shut and he goes limp. Arthur just about hears the muttered-

“More that anyone.”

-before Merlin passes out once again, and after waiting a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t faking it (definitely something Merlin would do), he collapses back in his chair.

Merlin really was sick.

Arthur huffs with annoyance at himself, how had he not noticed this sooner? Why hadn’t he pushed it when he came to collect the laundry? Why hadn’t he given Merlin a day off when he got back from the lower-town? Though, knowing Merlin, he probably would’ve spent all day working anyway, even if it wasn’t directly for Arthur.

Arthur’s thoughts are racing so much that he knows he isn’t going to get back to sleep, but it was far too early in the day for anything official to get done; the city was asleep. And besides, even if there was something to be done, Arthur found himself exceedingly unwilling to let go of Merlin’s hand.

So sitting here and thinking was his only option it seemed.

Gwen, Gwaine, and Leon had come back around an hour after he had sent them away, and he was more than pleased with what they had to report.

The housekeeper had drafted up notices asking for permanent, paid, help in the castle, to be distributed in the lower-town tomorrow (or... later today).

Leon and the Steward had found a suitable set of chambers for Merlin, about halfway between Arthur’s and Gaius’, small compared to Arthur’s rooms, but still bigger than the footprint of Merlin’s house back in Ealdor.

Arthur hadn’t managed to get any food in Merlin when he briefly woke up, but the plate that Leon had sent up still sat their waiting, and it would be ready when Merlin was lucid enough to eat.

Arthur was still very worried about the man he had grown to trust more than even himself, but he also trusted Gaius, and if Gaius wasn’t freaking out, then neither would Arthur.

The next few days were... difficult, to say the least.

It took a lot of persuading to convince Merlin to stay in bed, and even a few sleeping draughts slipped into his tea, courtesy of Gaius.

Merlin was also getting increasingly annoyed at all of his friends visiting him, and treating him like he was made of glass.

He was getting desperate to leave the Physician’s chambers and get some work done, and Gaius was not best pleased when he caught the man trying to sneak out.

Gaius sternly told him to sit down and shut up for a minute whilst he explained why exactly he can’t get out of bed yet, and Merlin reluctantly sat back down, nodding at Gaius to start talking:

“Merlin, you hadn’t slept at all in at least seventy-two hours. You hadn’t slept well for the several weeks before that. You hadn’t eaten all day, and I imagine that you hadn’t eaten properly, again, for the several weeks before. You had a mild concussion and fractured collarbone, courtesy of Lord Anselm. Bruises on your hands from gods know what. Balance and dizziness issues caused by being medically exhausted. You are stressed far beyond levels that are even vaguely healthy. All of this, before you sustained a serious stab wound. Merlin, you had a panic attack, yesterday, over not being able to fix a leak. You can not keep working like this, or you will burn yourself out again, and then where will we be? You are of no use to anyone if you drop dead. So will you please, just trust that Arthur has things handled just fine without you.”

Merlin had the decency to look a little ashamed at first, but rolls his eyes when Gaius mentions Arthur:

“That man never has anything handled. Gods know how he’s even managed to get dressed the last few days.”

Gaius raises an eyebrow, an obvious “I dare you to argue with me right now” look if Merlin has ever seen one.

Merlin huffs before climbing fully back into his bed (still in the Physician’s chambers. Gaius advised against telling Merlin of all the changes that were happening until after he was better, otherwise he would... simply put, he would freak) and looking to his lap, frowning.

Gaius sighs, and puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s least-injured shoulder:

“Be patient, Merlin. You fail to realise how many people care about you, and how much. We would be devastated to lose you, it’s hard enough to see you suffer like this. So let yourself heal fully, if not for yourself, then for us.”

Merlin looks up at him tiredly (everything seems to tire him out at the moment) with tears in his eyes and Gaius leans forward to gather the boy in a hug.

Merlin falls into it easily, and buries his head in the crook of Gaius’ neck as the older man runs a hand through his hair. He sniffles slightly, before mumbling:

“I’m sorry.”

Gaius smiles sadly, not that Merlin can see it, before replying quietly:

“No need to apologise my boy, just get some sleep. I believe that Guinevere will be joining us for dinner later.”

Merlin nods before removing himself from Gaius’ arms, and settling back under the covers. He shifts until he’s comfortable, and whispers a soft goodnight (I mean... it’s the middle of the afternoon but he’s sleeping the nights and days away at the moment), before drifting off.

Gaius sighs once more, before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him quietly.

They had a long way to go. Physically, Merlin was well on his way to healing, but emotionally... well. He had a father-figure physician, a fellow servant, five boisterous but loving knights, and a King who may or may not be in love with him.

He’d get there. He just needed a little more time.

THE END

Thank you so much for requesting this anon, I had fun writing it! It kept getting longer and longer and I almost split it into two, but I just decided to go for it in the end.

I hope y’all enjoy! Same as always, you wanna write it up with proper paragraphs and extend it and everything, go for it, credit and tag me :)

Let me know if y’all want my thoughts on anything in particular!

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lovelykhaleesiii · 3 years

Text

Newcomer: Chapter 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader

Words: 2.3k

Summary: The Outer Banks was a place you’d only heard of until recently. The unfolding changes in your life had led you to this very moment, and it appears you still have much to learn...

Warnings: swearing, (***) minor time jumps

A/N - sorry for the delay, had a huge assignment due and work <3 I know this is a slow ass start to the series, but trust I’m trying to build momentum LMAO

It had been just over a week, and seemingly still trying to settle in. Majority of your belongings, clothes and other sentiments have now been unpacked and neatly placed away in their new space, although you felt the hardest part wasn’t over just yet. Yourself, Caleb and Anya still struggled to find your way around town, mostly succumbing to the help of Topper, who despite initially being ever so welcoming, had grown slightly agitated from the coercion of having to always help. He’d be dragged out of whatever event or plans he had made, just to help out, especially during the grueling days of the unpacking stages of moving. Not to mention the not so discrete argument you’d overheard, just a few days ago, that he had with his mother, complaining about not being able to enjoy his own summer break.

You couldn’t deny that your presence did somewhat impede on his break, therefore, the guilt was there. You knew you’d have to start taking on some accountability, with or without Topper’s help.

“Y/N, can we just run to the store real quick, I need to grab a few things and you know how hopeless I am with directions…Please, come with, or else I’ll have to get Topper and we both know how much he loves-”

“Yeah, yeah-”

With a reluctant sigh, you tagged the page you’d just turned over in your book and propped yourself off the bed, adjusting your midi skirt before nodding in agreement.

One of the most convenient things about the Outer Banks was that nearly everything was within walking distance. It gave you a chance to explore the scenic landscape and water front, and perhaps even chat with a few of the locals you hadn’t yet properly met.

“So, how are things looking with that JJ guy? He seems pretty cute,” You intrigued, nudging your sister’s shoulder into conversation.

“Yeah he’s great actually, he's a really funny guy. He, uhm, he wants to meet but-”

“But what, Anya? That’s exciting! We sure could do with someone else’s company that isn’t Topper.”

“Yeah, I know but, I, well we, don’t really know him that well. Who’s to say he isn’t some sociopath, Y/N.”

“I highly doubt anyone around here is a psychopath, Anya. Look around, this is a place people come around to relax or retire.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Y/N…”

For some odd reason, you hesitated in a response. Anya was right, you had no familiarity with the people of Outer Banks, although it just seemed like an outrageous place for crime. Ever since arriving, you felt some unexplainable ease here.

“But I mean yeah sure. I’ll probably meet up with JJ some time… In public though, and you need to promise me that you’ll be on the lookout. Not like you’re busy with any plans at the moment, huh,” Anya remarks, as you appeasingly roll your eyes: God she could be so paranoid.

“Yeah, yeah. I promise. Think we turn right up ahead-”

Continuing right on the pathway, you could just faintly decipher the movement of people bustling in and out of the stores, and with that a wave of relief settled over you. Seemed like you knew your way around after all, having doubts along each turn of the walk.

“Make this quick, Anya, the sun’s starting to set, okay.”

“Whatever, Mum!” Anya quips, before rushing off into the convenience store, leaving your lonesome self outside waiting.

You watched the crowd across the street at the diner, enjoying their dinner, as you observed the locals in action, contemplating who was who, as you heard Evelyn exchange many names with your father over endless dinner conversations.

One name that stuck by you was “Cameron.”

Evelyn mentioned it countless of times, although you’d simply assumed they were one of the many well-known families that had established themselves in town. There wasn’t much else you knew, or wanted to know. You hardly met anyone else outside of the house, nor were you in any rush to.

“Hey!-”

Instantly snapping from your extensive thoughts, the familiar voice dragged you back to reality, as you turned your sight to its direction.

“It’s Y/N, right? Anya’s sister! It’s me, JJ, the waiter-”

“Yeah, of course, I remember you-”

As formal and proper as your manners from childhood were, just as you’d gone in for a handshake, JJ wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in warmly for a friendly embrace, before letting you go.

It had caught you off-guard, although not at all in a distasteful way.

“How are you? How’s Anya?” He asked, folding his arms as he leant against the wooden post of the front deck.

“Yeah we’re good! I’m sure Anya’s kept you posted, we’ve pretty much moved in now. How about you? I haven't seen you around.”

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty good! Oh that’s great to hear, that would mean you guys are free to come to the Boneyard tonight!”

“The what?”

“The Boneyard? Where we have this party with a kegger, Topper didn’t tell you?”

By the puzzled expression reeked across your face, JJ knew to take that as an immediate no, not questioning it any further.

“Well if you’d like, I could meet with you guys later and escort you there myself. There’s a few friends of mine I’d like to introduce you guys to.”

“Yeah, sure. That would be lovely, JJ-”

And as perfect as the timing could get, Anya returned from her little store run, stunned by JJ’s unexpected presence.

“Anya- I was just telling Y/N, I’d love to take you guys out tonight to the Boneyard, I was going to text you about it before, but something with my Dad-”

“That’s fine, but we just don’t know where exactly the Boneyard is.”

“That’s okay, JJ’s got us covered,” You exclaimed, before exchanging a friendly wink to JJ who just managed to catch it.

***

“You texted JJ our address right?” You persisted, growing anxious by the thought that perhaps JJ might’ve forgotten about you two.

“Yes, for the last time Y/N could you just relax. He should be here any minute now!”

And just on cue, in the close distance, the roaring sound of an old engine with dull headlights belonging to one of those old, retro “hippie” vans had pulled up through your drive-way. JJ’s head popped out excitedly by the window, waving for you guys to join, and immediately you both walked over.

It was difficult to convince your father of going out tonight, in fact, he’d been pestering you both to get out and mingle. As soon as you’d both approached him with the idea of heading out to some party, he leaped with relief, and encouraged you both to take up the offer. He was easy going like that, trusted you both knowing how well he’d raised you both. Of course, he covered some basic ground-rules: no drinking, no drugs, no smoking.

By the time you’d both arrived to the van, you could just make out the silhouettes of some figures inside the van through the grimey windows. JJ was out of the van, as the courteous man that he was, pulling the side door right open.

“John B-” Pointing to the boy on the driver’s seat, who gave you a friendly wave, made himself known.

“Kie-” A lovely, young girl, exchanged a gracious smile and nod to both Anya and yourself, before JJ finally introduced “And this is Pope-”, a young, pleasant man sat beside Kie.

“Guys this is Anya, and her older sister Y/N. They just moved here like a week ago.”

“Nice to meet you all, thanks for letting us join you guys tonight-” You warmly proclaimed, before gesturing Anya into the van with you following her behind.

As JJ was carefully closing the door behind you, John B mentioned how JJ spoke of you two, confessing you to be the “mystery newcomers” before kindly welcoming you to the Outer Banks.

You felt Kie’s over gaze fall between yourself and Anya, and felt somewhat intimidated, although it there was no threatening intent to it, however more of a protective sentiment.

“So you guys are Kooks, huh?” Kie blatantly questioned, before Pope nudged his elbow into her, as though to signal her to stop whatever interrogation she had planned.

“Sorry, what?”- Anya questioned in response, frowning as she looked around the van, back to you.

“Kie, stop. They don’t know about any of that stuff. Just drop it, okay!” JJ insisted, as he ran his fingers through his blonde locks, almost in frustration.

“We really have no idea what this whole Pogue-Kook business is, but perhaps you could enlighten us one day, Kie-” You suggested, as amiable as possible, not wanting to already cross the line with the few locals you’d just met.

“I sure will, I just can’t believe you guys live with Topper. He’s such an-”

“Ass?-” Anya intervened, finishing off Kie’s sentence precisely the way she intended, making Kie smile in agreement.

“Yeah, I don’t think he likes us very much,” Anya confessed, and as much as you hated “gossiping”, you couldn’t deny this one.

“Well Kie, you’re on to talk… What about your Kook year?” John B laughingly mocked, as Kie infuriatingly shoved his shoulder.

“S-So what exactly is the difference between a Pogue and a Kook?” You intriguingly questioned, shifting your gaze from Kie to Pope.

“Well, to put it short, Pogues live on the Cut, which I assume Topper would rather die than enter. Whereas yourselves and our Kie here, live on Figure 8,” Pope answered.

“So it’s just a social class thing?” You quipped, being reminded again of how very unprogressive things were around the Outer Banks.

“Exactly!-” Kie shouted, a hint of relief, as though finally finding someone who’d shared mutual understanding with her cause.

“I mean there’s more to it-” JJ added.

“But it’s best if you guys don’t get as involved, your only just new here-” He calmly reassured.

“Just keep an eye out for the Kooks, they usually come to these sort of events anyways for the booze they can’t afford-” Kie ridiculed.

“Yeah, especially Rafe-” Pope uttered, his tone reeking of bitterness to the name.

“Wait-Who exactly is that? The name just sounds familiar-” You brush off, not wanting to vex Pope any further.

“Good God, he’s the worst of the worst-” Pope scorned.

“An asshole-” Kie provoked.

“He’s the older brother of Sarah Cameron, I’m sure you’ve met her. She’s Topper’s girlfriend,” John B confessed.

“HA! Topper has a girlfriend, since when?!” Anya broke out mockingly laughing: as Kie and JJ chuckled to her comedic outburst.

“He must be that bad, huh?” You uttered, as the rest began to settle themselves.

“He’s a terrible person, Y/N. If I was you guys, I’d avoid him at all costs,-” Pope insisted, although by the seriousness of his voice, it seemed more of a warning than anything.

***

The Boneyard was a secluded location of the island, where the ashy white trunks of dead logs were arranged in a way to accompany large crowds, and rowdy parties far from the complaints of the adults. As you’d all arrived, kegs ready at the hand, the party had already commenced, as people from which John B described had consisted of Pogues, Kook and tourists. Regardless, all strangers to you.

As you finally eased yourself into that party mood, you found yourself enjoying the company of the Pogues, they were quite the friendly bunch. And it seemed ANya was letting loose as well, no thanks to her new-found companions: it always seemed like an impossible mission for Anya to enjoy herself, although witnessing her from the standpoint of a bystander, you felt comforted.

“I’m just going to go grab myself a drink-” You assured John B, as he nodded in agreement.

As you crammed yourself through the crowd, you felt a tight grip pulling on your elbow, making you topple in the direction of whomever it was that grabbed you.

“Topper, what the fuck?”

“How the hell did you get here, let alone find out about this?” He exclaimed, by the faint smell of the beer oozing with each breath, you could tell he was slowly becoming intoxicated.

“No thanks to you-” You snapped, before jolting your arm out of his strained grip.

“Seriously, Y/N. Does your Dad even know you’re here?”

Before you could even respond, some sort of internal sixth sense, felt an intense pair of eyes on you. As you shifted your gaze, to a bunch of people standing behind Topper, you’d immediately recognised his face.

For some odd reason you felt a shiver crawl down your spine, as though in fright of seeing some ghostly figure. His intense, blue eyes just fixated on you and only you, as he took sips of his drink, with one hand snugged away in a front pocket. It seemed he was in conversation with a bunch of other guys, all dressed quite similarly to one another in their polo shirts and summer shorts, and yet he was not at all engaged... Only to you.

“Earth to Y/N!” Topper loudly interjected, stirring you to snap back, as you fixed your view on him.

“Y-Yes, yes he does. Now could you just let me be?”

And before you knew it, you instinctively stormed off, before Topper had the chance to drunkenly question you any longer. As you disappeared into the crowd, heading for the kegger, your mind persisted in contemplation.

That was Rafe, surely. You vividly remembered the whole, minor incident during your first encounter with him.

After what the Pogues had confessed about him, and by his looming nature, you’d never felt so unnerved by someone, you’d in fact, never even met.

But why?

TAGLIST - @juliep7654 @foggybanditgardenprune

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ttuesday · 3 years

Note

How would the VDL gang members be around their pregnant SO?

hello my dear anon who won’t tell me who they are, I hope you are having a blessed day <3 if you aren’t having a good day then I will gladly give you another slice of bread

Arthur

Arthur is absolutely shocked when you first tell him. He can barely look after himself, how the hell's he suppose to help you look after a baby now too? He doubts himself and his ability to be a good father a lot.

Although the baby's not even born yet (and it'll be a few years before they even learn how to read and write properly) Arthur buys a new journal and keeps it in a chest under your bed. He says he's gonna give it to the baby someday.

He likes spending time with you away from camp. Arthur brings you to many different places but always makes sure there's a good view for the both of you to enjoy. He loves it because it's spending quality time with both you and the baby.

Arthur will ramble on about how ye should both enjoy sleeping throughout the night and not having to change dirty diapers just yet. He'll keep talking about how challenging but fun life's going to be once the baby arrives.

Dutch

Dutch has always been very hot and cold with his affection. Some times he's all over you and other times he's too preoccupied planning all different types of robberies.

When you get pregnant, Dutch tries his best to be there for you... Maybe he becomes a little over-bearing but he's doing it because he wants to make sure you and the baby are happy and healthy.

Throughout your pregnancy, Dutch will keep buying new things for the baby. By the time the baby arrives, he's bought 2 prams (Dutch said ye can use one in the summer and the other in the winter), a cot that's full of blankets, a lot of toys and of course, he especially bought the baby it's own designer outfits.

... yes, he bought all of this with the money from the donations box

Charles

Charles has everything sorted. He stays cool, calm and collected for your entire pregnancy. Even in moments when you freak out, he keeps his composure and helps calm you down.

Charles holds back your hair when you get morning sickness and happily gets you a glass of water and some crackers for you to cautiously nibble on.

If that baby ever starts to kick too hard or decide it'll do a couple of somersaults in your stomach, Charles will hold you and soothe you through it.

A month before you're due to give birth, Charles surprises you with a wooden cot he's made for the baby. It has intricate and detailed carvings of animals out in a grassy meadows and flowers going up the side.

John

John really wants to help. The only problem is, John is terrified of messing things up. When you're pregnant, John sees you as being as delicate as a flower.

Sometimes he'll actually get scared to touch you in case he hurts you. John knows that it sounds foolish but he's still scared.

If you mention that you’re in any pain, John will presume you’re going into labor. One time when this happened, John ran out of the tent to go get help and before you could tell him you were fine, John fainted.

You wouldn’t think John is the type of person to faint a lot but the second he thinks the baby’s coming, he gets so overwhelmed that he just blacks out. He finds it amazing that you don’t pass out at the thought of it and he genuinely believes you’re one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

Micah

Micah becomes so SO protective of you after you tell him you're pregnant. He was protective of you before, always starting bar fights if a drunk tries to flirt with you but now he reached a new level of protectiveness.

Micah will try his best to convince you not to go out on jobs, saying they're too risky. Yes, You've broken Micah Bell. He now actually thinks about how dangerous a job is.

He doesn't even want you to do chores around camp in case they tire you out. Literally, Micah just wants you to sit there and not do anything for 9 months. And if Grimshaw says anything about you not doing any work, Micah will snap at her to mind her own damn business.

And if you want to go into town for supplies, Micah will insist on joining you. If you talk to Micah about how protective he's being and tell him to back off a little, then he might. He's actually very scared something will go wrong so he'll only back off if you give him a lot of reassurance.

Bill

Bill has absolutely no idea what he's doing. At the start of your pregnancy he was clueless and didn't know what to do or how to help you. And even months into your pregnancy, Bill's still clueless.

When your bump started to show, reality hit Bill. He realized that this was actually happening and he loved every second of it.

He comes up to you at random times during the day and starts talking to the bump, not to you, but to the bump.

When you both go to bed, Bill will keep on of his hands gently wrapped around your stomach. One night while he had his hand resting there, the baby kicked. Bill got so excited he started to cry.

Sean

When the due date started to near, Sean suggested ye do a practice run of what to expect during labor... but in this situation, Sean wanted to be the one giving birth while you showed him what he’s supposed to do and how he has to help

Sean also decided to carry around a watermelon for a day to practice being gentle... yes, Sean really did compare your baby to a goddamn watermelon. He tried his best and surprisingly, Sean only broke 4 watermelons in the day.

He broke the watermelons because he kept throwing them up in the air and failed miserably at catching them. On the bright side, at least Sean now knows it's a bad idea to do that with the actual baby.

Some times when he thinks you're asleep, he'll start talking to the baby. He woke you up doing it one time because he was singing to the baby but was completely out of tune.

#pregnancy #tw pregnancy #headcanons #writings #rdr2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #charles smith #john marston #micah bell #bill williamson #sean macguire

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padfootagain · 3 years

Text

The Ocean

Here we go with a new request for my 5k event! Anon asked for a drabble for Caspian with the prompts :

2. "Don't worry, it's just a scratch… OUCH!"

26. "I'm the luckiest though. I have you."

This is a lot of fluff, just cute fluff… I hope you like it :)

Pairing : Caspian x reader

Word Count : 1898

Caspian's love for the sea was not a secret. You were aware of the nickname given to the king. The Seafarer. And that name made by the men under his command, and since adopted by all in the Kingdom, took roots in a true trait of his character. The ocean was just as much his lover as you were, in a way, to the point where you sometimes were a little jealous of the oceanic waves. He sometimes stood on the edge of a cliff, staring at the horizon where two hues of blue met and mingled, without moving a muscle for hours on end. You could read it in his expression every time he was on a boat, by the way his features lit up and his eyes glimmered while the wind batted his hair against his cheeks that he was home. That he was where he belonged, more so than on any throne, more so than in any divine hall of stone, more so even than riding with you through the forests of Narnia as leaves cracked and shivered under your horses' hooves. No, the place that felt like home to him was the ocean.

You couldn't fight his love for the moody waters, and couldn't temper his passion for the salty waves. You had given up on this attempt a long time ago, before you and Caspian even got married. It made him happy, after all. And even if the sea was a treacherous companion, there was little you could do against such a passionate love.

Caspian was well aware of your worry every time he left for the sea, but he always promised he would come back to you, and in his mind there was no doubt that he would. He had never broken a promise made to you - or anyone else, for that matter – and he intended on keeping his word once more.

He hoped that one day you would look at the sea with a friendly eye instead of one of rivalry, but it was difficult for you to share his excitement for the deep waters. It was difficult for you to see anything else in the waves than a force trying to take your husband away.

But you loved him too much, and whenever he was home, you walked down the length of the beach of white sand that ran along the cliffs of Cair Paravel. In the distance, the harbour protected the boats during the low tide, and the purple and golden sails of the Dawn Treader glimmered under the bright sunlight. You remained at a fair distance from the busy port though, seeking with your husband some private time to share, filled with tenderness and breathy giggles, with shy touches of fingertips and stolen glances. You had been married for several years, and yet, you still felt giddy whenever he was around, and his heart still skipped a beat whenever he laid eyes on you. You knew that you were lucky, both of you were well aware that this kind of love was rare, even more so for people of power like the two of you. There must have been someone looking after both of you with magical powers in their hands to guide the two of you on the same path. Caspian always said that Aslan himself must have made sure you found each other, and you had to agree.

You were walking down the beach over the edge of the water, your ankles kissed with the salty water slowly crawling up the sand, the tide rising once more to claim back what was its own kingdom, untamed and wild. Caspian was carrying your shoes and his, his other hand tenderly holding yours. It was warm on this summer afternoon, and Caspian had left his coat in Cair Paravel, choosing to leave for a walk with only a white shirt with large sleeves puffing around his muscles and letting the fabric open upon the upper part of his chest. The medallion you had offered him as a protective token the first time he went off to sea after your marriage was still hanging around his neck, the golden circle moving across his chest with each step he took. His long dark hair was messed with the wind, the light getting caught in his long eyelashes and the beard covering his cheeks. His eyes, so dark, showed a little bit of brown under the bright sunlight instead of their inky usual shade. He looked soft, domestic, so different from the kingly demeanour he had to wear in the castle. Instead, he was just your husband, and you couldn't refrain an enamoured smile to grace your lips at the sight.

The bottom of your dress was drenched with salty water and clung to your calves, but you didn't care. Caspian's brown trousers were wet too, patches of darker shades of fabric marking where the waves had climbed up his legs. You knew several dignitaries who would have been shocked by the King and Queen of Narnia behaving so mundanely, but none of you minded, as you simply enjoyed each other's company. When the two of you were alone, it was so easy to just be yourselves.

You reached a patch of golden rocks emerging from the water where seagulls rested after their long flights. Thanks to the low tide, the beach reached the rocks carved into sharp shapes by thousands of years being beaten by the waves. Caspian's eyes lit up at the sight.

"Would you mind a bit of adventure, my love?" he asked, a mischievous smile brightening his handsome features.

"What do you have in mind?" you asked back, yours eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Follow me."

You could have tried to fight back and pull him back towards you instead of following him as he hurried towards the rocks, but there was no need to delay the obvious. You would end up yielding anyway.

You let him guide you to the rocks, and you climbed on top, Caspian helping you up and giggling every time he had to catch you as you lost your balance. You spent some time staring at the seaweeds that covered the rock, and the tiny pools carved in that hid tiny crabs that ran away when you came too close. You looked for seashells on the edge of the water, and laughed as Caspian came too close to the edge and was drenched by a particularly strong wave, his shirt now clinging to his body, the fabric turning from white to see-through. His hair dried quickly under the warm sun though, tangling in the wind.

He chased you around with seaweeds in his hands, trying to put them on your head, and you laughed so hard you could barely breathe.

It was a perfect afternoon, really, and for a moment, you weren't so angry and jealous of the sea. Caspian had a gift to make you forget about everything else in the world but your love for him. Until your husband, in a clumsy step, slipped onto some seaweed and fell head first across the rock.

You heard him letting out a loud grunt as he hit the ground, and you hurried back to him, crossing the few steps that separated the two of you, all traces of laughter now gone from your features.

"Darling! Are you okay?" you asked with worry oozing from your every words.

"Yes," he nodded, sitting up. "I'm fine, just…"

You kneeled by his side, noticing that he was holding his forehead.

"Let me see," you ordered, and Caspian didn't even think about arguing.

As you pulled his fingers away, a gush of blood ran down the side of his face. But you quickly saw that it was nothing serious. You cut a piece of your dress to press the fabric against his forehead, but Caspian rolled his eyes, trying to wipe the blood away with the back of his hand.

"Don't worry, it's just a scratch… OUCH!" he jumped as you forcefully pressed the clothe against his cut.

"Don't start arguing with me. You hit your head pretty hard."

"It is really nothing to worry about, my darling. Just a little cut. I have seen much worse."

"Don't remind me!" you scolded him.

He rolled his eyes with a cheeky smile.

"You are adorable when you get worried about me. I like it."

"If you want me to take care of you, dearest, I would advise you to watch your words!"

"It is nothing, love."

"We should go back to the castle, clean your cut properly," you ignored him.

"Not yet," he complained. "We still haven't seen the sunset!"

"Caspian, you're hurt…"

But he took your wrist in his hand, pulling your hand away from his forehead, before guiding it to his lips to drop a tender kiss to your pulse on the inside of your wrist. His wound had stopped bleeding already, and now that you could properly see the damage, you had to admit it was nothing serious, a little scratch that would be gone in a week or so.

"I am fine. It's nothing. Let's stay a little longer, please," he asked with begging eyes you knew you would be unable to refuse anything to. "You promised we would watch the sunset together tonight. So, let's stay. Please, stay."

He pulled you closer and closer until he could kiss your lips, making you forget everything about the world around you, goosebumps running up your arms and making your knees shake under you.

"Please, stay," he asked one more time, knowing he had won already, knowing that after such a kiss, he would have broken your will for anything else but your desire to stay in his arms like this.

You heaved a sigh, resting your forehead in the crook of his neck and running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You're lucky you have good arguments in your favour," you yielded, making both of you laugh.

He hummed in agreement, tightening his hold on you and pressing you to his chest as you sat down and got comfortable in his arms.

"I am the luckiest though. I have you," he added, looking down at you before dropping a chaste kiss into your hair, making you smile and close your eyes, relishing in his wooded scent and the steady beating of his heart under your palm.

Caspian's eyes moved back to the sea, resting once more onto the untameable waves, and the infinite possibilities that laid over the horizon. Lands to discover, and monsters hidden, and so many people waiting on the other side. So many mysteries to uncover.

Caspian was well aware people sometimes called him Seafarer. Sometimes, his own men claimed that the ocean was his true home, that he belonged there, on the sea. That instead of a castle, he belonged on a boat. Caspian never paid too much attention to these words, and he never bothered correcting all those that thought the sea was his real and true love, the place he felt truly himself, that the ocean was his home.

Because he knew where his home was. He held it in his arms now.

You were his home. And no matter where the sea would try to take him, he would always come back to you in the end.

#caspian #caspian x reader #king caspian #king caspian x reader #caspian x you #caspian x y/n #caspian fanfic #caspian fanfiction #caspian imagine #narnia #narnia fanfiction #narnia imagine #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #imagine

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magickastiel · 3 years

Text

Somewhere Off in the Dark (Dean/Cas) 7.3k

It’s easier to be with Cas in the dark.

Dean hasn’t got to see those eyes at full brightness, boring into his soul. Instead he can just talk and not worry about the embarrassment scalding his face or the discomfort twisting his spine.

It’s dangerous being with Cas in the dark.

Gift for @jackttwist for the @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! ✨

mild warning for a scene during early s13 so dean is very self-destructive and doesn't care about his own life. It's along the same times as the show but if you're triggered by that, skip from: 'Dean is sick' and pick up again at: "The Empty?" Dean whispers, feeling cold' for the cute stuff!

a03 or keep reading 💖

Dean will never get used to waking up and seeing eyes peering back at him.

He starts awake, half-reaching for the gun tucked under his pillow before he can pull himself back. He glares and throws the blanket off his lap, immediately regretting it when the cool night air hits his legs.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel says, voice dry and face impassive. He watches without shame as Dean clambers to his feet, eyes skimming over his legs, his rucked up t-shirt, the scowl on his face.

A chill shoots up Dean’s back and, not for the first time, he wonders how many pairs of eyes Castiel really has. He walks from the couch to Bobby’s kitchen for something to do with his overly observed body.

“I’ll shoot you one day.” He says over his shoulder. “That’ll show you.”

“What will that show me?”

Dean wants to be annoyed but instead he snorts with laughter. Castiel seems to have this affect on him.

“Nothin’. Forget it.” His eyes itch with fatigue and he rubs them with the back of his hand. “You want coffee?”

“I have no need for - ”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Dean turns to lean his back against the counter and almost jumps again when he sees that Castiel has silently followed him to the kitchen. He can count the number of worn tiles between his bare feet and Castiel’s shoes. He has to swallow before he speaks. “Didn’t ask if you needed it. You want some?”

The angel’s eyes travel over him again and Dean feels like an ant under the hot glare of a magnifying glass on a sticky summer’s day.

“Yes.” He says eventually.

“Right.” Coffee.

He potters about, feeling eyes on him wherever he goes. He doesn’t let his hand shake.

By the time they’re sat back on the couch with two half-empty mugs, Dean’s body has loosened as he becomes accustom to the silent scrutiny. There’s no looming threat and no harsh judgement because Castiel is as he always is – curious. Every movement is apparently fascinating to him, every sentence Dean says is worth contemplation and every sip of coffee is a new experience to mull over. Again, Dean is surprised how little it annoys him.

“You remember the first time you woke me up here?” He says after a long pause. “You threatened to throw me back into Hell. Real nice of you.”

In the dark, Dean has to rely on Castiel’s voice to judge his expression. “Yes.” The word sounds solemn, like he’s disappointed that Dean remembers it. “I did say that.”

Dean takes the last glug of coffee to think. There’s an obvious question that’s been lingering between them for the last ten minutes.

“Why did you come here tonight?” He asks and doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be.

Even though he can’t see him properly, he’s sure Castiel is staring straight at him even as he ponders his answer. It’s another reminder of how alien he is. He doesn’t have that need to look away, to hide his face as his mind races to find the right way to say the right thing. Dean envies him that.

“I wanted to apologise.”

“Apologise for what?”

When he speaks again, his tone is unnervingly soft. “Your friends.”

Ellen. Jo.

Dean’s heart clenches and he feels the urge to move, unable to sit still in his grief. His knee knocks against Castiel’s solid thigh but the angel stays perfectly still.

“I should have been with them.” Castiel continues his voice low and smooth. If it wasn’t for the subject matter, Dean might think he was being read to sleep like a troubled child. “I should have protected them.”

“Not your fault.” He mumbles and means it. It never occurred to him to blame Castiel. He’s been too busy blaming himself to consider anyone else’s actions.

“I arrived with them and I should have stayed with them. I let them down. I – I let...”

Castiel is hesitating. This is new behaviour for him and it’s dangerously human.

“I...let you down.”

Dean feels like he’s been doused with cold water. He doesn’t blame Castiel for not wanting to say that. It’s so ridiculously untrue and so goddamn weird to say that he let Dean down specifically. It’s too much focus on him, on them.

“You didn’t let us down, man.”

“You are being kind.” Castiel says in neither admonishment nor gratefulness. He just states it like it’s a sure fact. “Thank you. But I shall endeavour to make it up to you.”

“Oh.” Dean says feeling dumb and strangely warm. “Right. But like I said, nothing to make up for.”

“You are not sleeping.”

He almost gets whiplash at the sudden change in conversation. “Uh well, no, not right now. You did wake me up.”

“Allow me to clarify: you do not sleep enough.” The still air is disturbed by the rustle of his trenchcoat and the sharp clack of the ceramic mug being placed on the table.

“Kind of a lot going on, dude.” Dean says, trying to protest as Castiel pulls his mug from his hands and places that on the table too. “Uhhh, what are you doing?”

“Lie back down.”

Dean does as he’s told but frowns too. He tells himself it’s a good compromise. “You gonna stare at me until I fall asleep or something?”

“I could but I believe that will be unnecessary.” He stands and looms over the couch. He looks intimidating from down here – tall as a skyscraper and dark as a void. Dean clutches at the blanket for something tangible to hold on to. “Your body still hasn’t recovered from the physical and emotional trauma of the last week. And when you sleep you have nightmares thus reliving the pain. You must rest completely to correct this and regain your full strength.”

Dean snorts. “Oh, yeah? So what you gonna do – zap me to sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Wait – ”

Two fingertips brush his forehead and he sleeps.

Dean can’t stop looking.

Even as Benny regales them with some batshit story, even as he eats his handful of berries, even as he wanders the perimeter of their little camp.

Cas is here.

Like, actually here.

He hadn’t let himself lose hope but it had been slipping. Just around the corner, he’d think. One more fight and he’ll be there. On and on.

And then there he was, alive and washing his face like he’d just woken up after a bad night’s sleep at a motel.

Dean’s eyes flit over to him again. He isn’t used to it yet. They only found him a few hours ago. Man’s gotta bask in having his best friend back.

“Dean? You hear me?”

He sighs and turns back to Benny who, to his credit, doesn’t even look annoyed. “Yeah, yeah. Sleeping, shifts, food.”

He snorts. “Got the gist, at least.”

“I’ll take the first shift. Gotta...” He glances over his shoulder at Cas again. He isn’t quite sure what he’s got to do, but he knows it involves Cas.

“Like that, huh?” Benny says, a slight smirk on his face.

“What do you mean?” He mutters, grabbing a stick and poking the meagre fire for something else to focus on.

“Nothin’, nothin’.” He waves a hand, but the smirk hasn’t left his face. “Just startin’ to feel like a third wheel, is all.”

Dean’s face heats unpleasantly. He knows it’s not like that but he can’t quite bring himself to argue about it. Instead he stares into the fire as Benny wanders off to rest. He feels horribly cracked open. He’s gotten used to his hardened shell – Purgatory took all the resilience he had and coated him in it. But the first sight of Cas had split him apart and now his usual racing thoughts have come rushing back with the force of a ten tonne truck. He almost wishes he could go back to how he was yesterday, pure focus and drive.

Now he feels small next to the fire, between a vampire and an angel.

He’s just one slightly shitty human lost in Purgatory.

“Dean?”

Cas joins him suddenly, with that eerie angelic stealth. Dean only just manages to stop himself from jumping like a kid. Cas sits on his left, watching him intently.

Everything is kind of colourless in Purgatory. It drove Dean insane for the first few days; everything seemed slightly off and unreal. Then he got used to it – the lacklustre trees, the blank water, even the fire looked kind of grey.

Cas’ eyes are still very blue.

It’s the first real colour he’s seen in months.

“Dean?” He says again, sounding slightly alarmed. “Are you alright?”

He clears his throat. “Yeah. Just...weird to see you, I guess.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. “I...I suppose it is strange to see you too. I have seen you from a distance a few times. If several leviathans caught me at once, it would take me a while to kill all of them. Each time, I was very aware of how you were likely closing in on my location. Then I would catch a glimpse of you through the trees and that was when I knew I needed to get ahead again.”

“You what?!” Dean hisses, only keeping his voice down for Benny’s sake. “You mean you’ve been in spitting distance before and you didn’t say anything?! You could have...” He thinks about the sleepless nights, the desperation to find him alive. “I was afraid you were dead.”

“I am sorry, Dean.” Cas squints and tilts his head a little. Dean feels his anger dissipate. “I wanted nothing more than to join you. Together, I am sure we can conquer almost anything.” Right. That’s a total normal thing to say to someone. “But I was the one who released the leviathans. It was my responsibility to deal with them. If they got to you I would never be able to forgive myself.” His gaze drops to the fire. “I will never be able to forgive myself.”

“Don’t.” Frustration pushes at Dean’s skull, making his eyes water. “Yeah, ok. You did something pretty dumb. But you did it because you were trying to save the world. I should have...if I hadn’t been so damn caught up with other stuff. If I had just been there more - ”

“Dean, you cannot blame yourself.” Cas sounds genuinely horrified at the thought. “It was my decision and the consequences are mine to bear. All I can hope is that you can find a way to forgive me. And Sam - ”

“Sam’s good now.” Dean says quickly, half to reassure himself. “You screwed him over, not gonna lie. But at least you fixed it.”

Neither of them speaks for a while. Cas seems intent on watching the fire while Dean’s shell shatters a little more. Had he really had forgiven Cas just like that? He thought of what John Winchester would say about that. To say Cas had ‘screwed Sam over’ was a bit of an understatement. He had totally destroyed his mind. And here Dean was, casually forgiving him like it was no big thing.

It isn’t just words either. Dean really doesn’t feel any animosity towards the angel at all. Look out for Sammy. That had been drummed into him since he was four years old, when he carried his baby brother from their burning home. He still lives by it too. So it’s unnerving to forgive someone who hurt Sam. He’d been angry at first, sure. Upset, if he was being honest. He’d been hit with the double whammy of worrying about Sam and being betrayed by the only real friend he’d ever had. The only one that sticks around.

Well, that isn’t quite true. Cas always leaves but he always comes back too.

Now Dean just feels happy. And tired. He’s pretty tired too.

“You should sleep.” Cas says, softly. “I can watch over you.”

His knee jerk reaction is to tell the angel that’s weird. In any other situation it is weird. But here, he really does need someone looking out for him.

“’Angels are watching over you.’” He says, thinking of soft blonde hair and a warm smile. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “That’s what my mom used to tell me every night when she put me to bed. Guess that’s true tonight, huh?”

“I suspect she did not imagine that to come true in Purgatory while you are travelling with an angel and vampire, but the sentiment is lovely nonetheless.”

Dean can’t stop himself from grinning as he settles down, wedging his jacket under his head like Benny did.

“Do we have to travel with the vampire?” Cas grumbles beside him, sounding wonderfully like himself.

Dean raises his eyebrows against his makeshift pillow. “What, you don’t like Benny?”

“I don’t like the way he acts.” His eyes narrow, glaring at the sleeping figure the other side of the fire. “He looks at you like he wants to...consume you.”

Dean laughs and, for a moment, the clearing rings with it. “Dude trust me: Benny ain’t gonna eat me. He’s got plenty of food around.”

But Cas still looks unsure. “That’s not...” He sighs. “Yes, I suppose you are right.” He gives Dean one of those rare, small smiles as he looks down at him. “Sleep.”

Dean does as he’s told for once, letting his aching limbs stretch out next to the warmth of the fire and under his best friend’s watchful gaze.

But after a few moments, he can’t resist another look, even as his body succumbs.

“You can sleep, Dean.” Cas says, almost chastising. “I’ll watch over you.”

“Ain’t that. Just...” His tongue feels too big for his mouth and his heart feels too heavy for his chest. “Just checkin’ you’re still there, is all.”

As he falls asleep, he hears his voice one more time.

“I’m still here. I’ll always be here.”

When Dean asks Cas where he can drop him, the ex-angel avoids his eyes and says something about being ‘between places’.

Yeah, Dean’s the worst friend in the world.

He drives them to a motel because that’s the least he can do.

He mentally berates himself on the drive there while Cas is quiet in the passenger seat. This really is the least he can do. He should be driving Cas home to the Bunker, buying him dinner on the way back. He should be apologising for throwing him out. But if he starts apologising that means he’s got to start explainingand that’s something he really can’t do. Not yet.

So he drives his awesome best friend to a shitty motel and books them a shitty twin room and orders a shitty pizza.

Once they’ve eaten in relative silence, Cas perches on the edge of one of the beds staring wide-eyed and blank faced at the television. Unfortunately, it’s not Dr. Sexy. Just some grim drama about murders and family betrayals. Like they don’t have enough of that to deal with already.

He looks small and Dean has the sudden urge to rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Dude,” He says, busying his restless hands with clearing up the greasy napkins and tossing them into the bin. “Don’t sit that close to the TV. You’ll get square eyes.”

For what seems like the first time in an hour, Cas blinks. “Is that possible?”

Dean chuckles and settles back on his bed, kicking off his boots with a groan. “Nah, just somethin’ parents tell their kids. Dad used to say it to me all the time.” His smile slips as John Winchester’s dark eyes narrow in his mind. “Used to watch so much Scooby Doo it drove him mad. ‘Turn that TV off and do something useful! Ain’t got no use for a son with square eyes!’” He fidgets on the bed, fighting the urge to pull a blanket over himself.

“Oh.” Cas half turns away from the TV. “That seems unnecessarily harsh.”

Dean shrugs. “Just watched it when he was gone.” Had plenty of time.

“I assume you had plenty of time to watch it then.”

Huh.

Dean’s stunned into silence long enough for Cas to look over. Something on his face makes Cas look guilty.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to comment on your father.”

“No.” Dean says but isn’t sure if he means it.

Cas stands, flicking off the TV and sitting against the pillows of his own bed. The quiet makes Dean realise that he’s alone with Cas in a motel room. He isn’t sure why it sets his teeth on edge – it shouldn’t be any different from sharing with Sam. So why does he feel a bit too hot under his shirt?

“Family is a complicated thing.” Cas continues, oblivious to Dean’s discomfort.

“Y-yeah.” The word sticks in his throat. “You miss ‘em? The other angels?”

In the soft lamplight, Cas’ profile looks striking as he thinks. “Yes and no. I miss the simplicity of being with them.”

“Simplicity? Can’t imagine Heaven ever being simple.”

“Oh, it’s not, not really. But I knew my place and I knew what I required to do. And I was known. Understood.”

“You think I don’t get you?” Dean asks before he can stop himself.

Cas leans back further, turning slightly to rest his head on the pillow. His eyes look almost velvet in the soft light. Dean finds himself turning a little too, cheek brushing the cotton pillowcase.

“I think you understand me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“Oh.” Dean feels struck dumb and something inside his chest clunks. “That...that’s what friends are for, I guess.”

“Yes.” Cas smiles, gummy and a little crooked where he’s resting his head. “It is.”

Dean rolls onto his back, heart hammering as he stares at the ceiling. Cas’ eyes are still on him – he knows the feel of that gaze like a dangerous coastline knows the relentless glare of a lighthouse.

The silence drags and his fingers itch to switch the TV back on.

“Coulda got you your own room.” He mutters, almost to himself. Least I could do. “Give you some privacy.”

“No.” Cas says firmly. “This is...this is good. Thank you.” He sounds so earnestly grateful Dean almost cringes in shame. “I spend quite a lot of time alone. It’s good to have company.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

“But if you’d rather - ”

“Nah, it’s all good.” He says and is surprised that he means it. He’s counted the stains on the ceiling three times and his heart is slowing to its normal pace again.

“Dean?” Cas sounds a little slower now. “Tell me something?”

“Uh, sure. What?”

“Anything.”

“Like a story?” Dean frowns and looks over to see Cas’ eyes are already half-closed.

“Hmm.”

“Uhhh...” He flounders. He hasn’t done this since he was a kid, making up stories for Sammy to fall asleep to in the back of the Impala. “Ok. Once, this guy woke up. Let’s call him...Dan. He woke up and realised he was underground, being suffocated. So after he panicked a bit, he dug his way out and almost goddamn blinded himself ‘cos it was a sunny day, right? He walks to this old gas station and keeps thinking ‘how am I alive?’ ‘cos he’s pretty sure he was dead.”

He knows he isn’t telling it well but it doesn’t seem to matter because Cas hums again, sounding pleased this time. Dean feels his own body melting like hot wax into the bed as he watches Cas’ eyes close.

“Then he looks in the mirror and sees he’s got this mark on his shoulder. A handprint. So he’s like, ‘who the hell left that there?’”

Cas chuckles, mouth thick with sleep. Dean pulls a blanket over himself and wraps an arm around one of the pillows.

“Turns out, his best friend left it there. But here’s the thing: he ain’t met him yet.”

Dean smiles as Cas’ breathing gets even and heavy. He watches for a moment and squeezes the pillow tight against his chest before turning out the light.

He dreams of Hell but when he wakes, all he can remember are dark wings beating hard against fire.

Dean is sick.

He throws up until his body is shaking, until his throat is raw and his eyes are bloodshot.

He slumps down next to the toilet and takes in breaths he doesn’t really want. The cool title presses against his burning back and he closes eyes. Which is a horrific mistake.

A beam of light streaming from his mouth, from his eyes, from the hole in his chest -

His body jerks and his foot knocks the empty whiskey bottle with a jarring clatter. Yeah, that’s rule one, buddy. Don’t close your fucking eyes.

He stands on shaking legs, picks up the empty bottle and goes back to his room where he’s stashed another. Thankfully, he doesn’t pass Sam on the way. He can’t deal with the pity, he can’t deal with the logic and he can’t deal with his stupid, childish hope. Mom’s gone. Ain’t no sense in pretending otherwise. Gone just like –

Nope.

He opens his door and chucks the empty bottle down again, letting it roll off to some dark corner of his room. He scoops up the next one and cracks open the top, taking a deep swig. It hits him hard; neat alcohol on his turbulent stomach makes him gag but he perseveres. He’s exhausted but he can’t close his eyes.

So he’s aiming for blackout.

It can’t be too far away – he can’t remember when he last ate. He’s aching all over, boiling hot and he’s...

Sobbing.

“You...you son of a bitch...” He sways a little when he looks up at the dingy ceiling but he’s trying to talk beyond that. “Whydya hav’ ta...fuck!” He rushes over to the sink and throws up the whiskey he just swallowed. It burns even more on the way up.

Once he’s stopped retching, he tries to take another swig but his body won’t let him do it. He collapses onto the floor again, legs too weak to stand. The bottle clangs in the sink, probably spilling all of its contents down the drain. He makes a weak sound of protest but doesn’t move.

His eyes feel tight and dry against the salty wetness on his face. He wonders how far above him Heaven is. If he’s even there. Something tells him he isn’t. If he is, surely he would have found a way to get back.

Dean whispers his name, a private prayer of desperation. There’s still some dumb part of him that thinks he might just appear again, slightly dishevelled and annoyed at Dean for not looking after himself.

But he doesn’t.

The silence stretches and Dean contemplates hitting his head on the floor. If he does it hard enough, there’s a good chance it’ll knock him out for a while, maybe a few days if he’s lucky.

He tries to lift his head but it’s too heavy. A wave of panic rushes over him as he starts to feel paralyzed – trapped in his own body and smothered with grief.

“Cas?” He chokes, a fresh wave of tears rushing down his face. “You...you’re meant to come back. You always come back. You gotta...you gotta come back, man. Please. Please, I can’t - ”

I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to. Don’t make me.

With all his might, he rolls onto his side before he’s suffocated completely. His head spins as he turns, his stomach churns and his eyes roll back. When he finally passes out, he doesn’t see anything at all.

“The Empty?” Dean whispers, feeling cold.

“Yes.” Cas whispers back. He’s only whispering because Dean is. Dean feels completely normal about that and not giddy at all.

“What was it like?” He doesn’t want to know but has to ask all the same.

“Empty.” Cas says, deadpan.

“Oh ok, smartass – thanks for clearing that up!” Dean huffs good-naturedly and has to grip the railing until his knuckles turn white. He’s got so much happiness in him his body doesn’t know what to do with it. He feels energy thrumming through him and he has the sudden urge to start sprinting and laughing.

They’ve stopped at a motel on the drive back from Colorado to the Bunker. Sam is already asleep, hair all splayed out on his pillow like Sleeping Beauty. But Dean...well, Dean was dead for a couple of minutes today so he figures he’ll enjoy being alive for a bit longer. He leans on the rail overlooking the parking lot and lets the cool air fill his lungs.

He’s got company.

“How is Jack?” Cas asks, obviously expecting a better answer than the quick reassurance they’d given him earlier.

“He’s doing ok. I was...” Dean trails off, his good mood momentarily dipping into guilt. “I was kind of a dick to him at first - ”

“What a surprise.” Cas sighs, world-weary and affectionately irritated. Dean wants to make him sound like that every day.

“- but we’ve gotten better.” He knocks Cas’ shoulder with his. “I’ve gotten better.”

“Good.” Cas smiles at him and he has to grip the railing again.

Dean watches him stare up at the moon, the pearly light making him look as otherworldly as he is. Dean is reminded there are wings somewhere behind Cas. Broken, yes, but still there. It’s weirdly exciting that Cas isn’t human. A strange thrill shoots through him when he really thinks about it. He feels like one of those people who inadvertently tame some dangerous beast and have their photos taken with the thing sat on their couch with them. It’s that precious feeling that you’ve been chosen, that something that would normally kill you with a snap of jaws or a click of its fingers saw you and thought you were special. So it decided that it wanted you to live. That it wanted to spend time with you. That he wanted –

“Dean? You’re staring.” Cas turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and a slightly smug expression. “You usually tell me off for that.”

“Right.” Dean doesn’t stop looking. “It’s just...you’re back.You came back again.”

Cas’s expressions softens and he edges a little closer. Suddenly – wildly – Dean thinks if Cas kissed him now he’d be fine with it.

He doesn’t.

“It was suffocating.” He says instead. “The black emptiness was...all encompassing. Like no matter what I did or where I went, I would never escape the feeling of total despair. Of being painfully alone. It was like - ”

“Choking.” Dean says and swallows hard against his healing throat.

“Yes.” Cas’ fingers twitch on the railing and Dean thinks that if he moved his left pinkie, he could feel his skin. Cas’ hand drops before he can really contemplate doing it. “But I did escape.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s full of energy again, happiness buzzing around his body like a swarm of bumblebees. “You got out, man.”

“I was afraid that feeling would follow me. That I would still feel that fear no matter how far I ran.”

“And?”

“I don’t.” Cas turns to the moon again, bathed in pure light, eyes shining as bright as his grace. “I don’t feel scared at all.”

Dean blinks back the sting in his eyes and smiles. “Me neither.”

Dean pushes open the door with a sweaty palm.

Cas stands next to him, staring into the room with his lips slightly parted. Dean’s gaze lingers on them for moment before he drags his eyes away.

Just because Cas...said what he said, doesn’t mean he wants that. Maybe he didn’t really mean it. Or maybe he did mean it but like...friends. Best friends love each other. Of course they do. Sure, it did seemlike a momentous romantic confession made by a guy madly in love with his best friend before he sacrificed himself to save said best friend but maybe...maybe it wasn’t really like that.

“You did this for me?” Cas sounds almost tearful and Dean can’t look at him like that. It reminds too much of –

“Yeah.” Dean clears his throat. “Well, Sam helped too. Turns out he’s kinda nerdy about plants too. But I bought ‘em all and watered ‘em and...Jack got you that stuffed bee, by the way.”

Cas steps inside the room and Dean can finally look up from his feet. His eyes go straight to Cas’ broad back, casually dressed in one of Sam’s sweaters. The sleeves are too long but Cas says he likes it. He’s wearing a pair of joggers that Dean kept aside for him and a pair of socks with a hole in the toe.

“I love it.”

Dean’s heart literally skips a beat. Great, he loves it. Loves it in the way he loves –

“Wanted you to have something to come back to, you know? I know this was always kinda your room but there was nothing in here and I thought...after what you said before about the Empty...thought you’d want something good to come back to. Bright and full of life...or whatever, I dunno. Just thought you might like it.”

“It’s incredible.”

Dean thinks that’s over stating it. It’s not that good. Not nearly enough to repay his debts. Not anywhere near what Cas deserves. He deserves a real home, a huge garden, a fucking mansion with butlers and people who bow to him and call him ‘sir’. Instead Dean has given him his old room back. Sure, it’s got a few shelves up, a new rug, bedding that Jack picked out called ‘jungle dreams’, a load of plants and a tall lamp that gives everything a nice glow but it’s still the same room.

Dean has never felt more pathetic.

Castiel is an angel. Ok, barely an angel now (and whose fault it that?) but still a celestial being. He might get tired sometimes, he might get hungry and he might be able to get drunk but he’s still an angel.

He’s still better.

Better than this stupid room, better than this miserable Bunker. Better than Dean.

“Is this your blanket?” Cas asks suddenly, plucking the Scooby-Doo fleece blanket from the bed.

Oh, that. “Uh, yeah. Thought you might get cold now. Don’t want you to get numb toes or nothin’.”

“That’s...” Dean isn’t prepared for the open, raw joy on Cas’ face when he looks up. It almost sends him reeling backwards out of the door. “That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do all of this. It’s...”

Stupid. Stupid plants, stupid lamp, stupid goddamn blanket.

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s stupid.” Dean blurts, feeling awkward and childish. “Shoulda done something more. Shoulda got you - ”

“You got me.” Cas says firmly. “You got me out, Dean. You and Sam and Jack...I will never be able to thank you enough. And then to come back to this room that you worked so hard on, that you filled with things you knew I would like...there is nothing better than that in the whole world. The whole of creation. To be known and to be wanted is the best thing there is.”

Fuck.

Dean doesn’t know what to say to that. What can he say to that? What can he say that would ever compare to what Cas said? What he said before –

“Right. Ok. Great. That’s...good. I’ll just...” He gestures over his shoulder to the door. Being in here with Cas is too intense, like staring at the sun or holding your hand over an open flame. “You probably want to rest.”

Cas hesitates before saying, “Yes. I suppose I should. Thank you again for this. I really love it.”

“Yeah, man.” Dean almost winces. “No worries. I’ll just...leave you to it.”

He steps back into the open doorway, unwilling to take his eyes away from Cas because he’s here, in the room Dean has imagined him in for weeks. It’s kind of annoying that Cas doesn’t have the same trouble. He turns his back, wandering towards the plants on the shelves and gently touching the leaves.

Dean lingers, like a moth perched on a lightshade.

“Are you - ” Just leave. “Are you gonna be ok by yourself? I mean, you said before that it was lonely being in the Empty. Thought maybe you’d want company?”

Cas seems surprised when he faces Dean again. “Oh. Well, yes, of course. I would enjoy you staying for a while. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

The idea of Cas thinking he’s keeping Dean against his will is laughable.

“So, er - ” He sits on the bed, fingers clutching at his blanket. “What do you wanna do? I could get my laptop and we could watch a movie? Or we could watch one of those nature documentaries that kinda send me to sleep? You know the ones with the British guy with smooth voice - ”

“Actually, I should rest. I am quite tired.”

“Oh.” Dean tries to not look crushingly disappointed. “Right, yeah.”

“You could rest with me.” Cas says, just like that. Like it’s not a big deal at all. Like guy friends just clamber into bed with each other all the time and die for each other and confess their love for each other...

“Sure.” Dean’s mouth decides for him. “We could – we could do that.”

So they get into bed together.

Cas slides in as though this is his regular night time routine, looking totally at ease in his new ‘jungle dreams’ bedding and borrowed blanket. Dean’s hands shake as he lifts up the covers and slides in too. He waits for it to be weird, waits for discomfort and his father’s face swimming in front of eyes.

Instead, he just feels warm.

They’re led next to each other, unmoving and flat on their backs. Dean’s right leg is about to fall off the bed and Cas’ shoulder looks like it’s digging into the nightstand. Maybe this bed wasn’t made to fit two fully grown men too afraid to touch.

“Dean, are you comfortable? I am not.”

He laughs and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah, this isn’t great. Maybe if we...uh - ”

“What about if we do this?”

Cas’ hands are suddenly everywhere, manhandling him in a way that Dean has never experienced before but wouldn’t mind experiencing again. He ends up with his head resting on Cas’ chest, forehead pressed against his neck. His right leg has nowhere to go but to hook around Cas’ legs, entwining them together.

And Cas is holding him.

His arms are wrapped around him and not just because they haven’t got anywhere else to go. Because he wants them to go there. Because he wantsto hold Dean. Possibly all night.

Dean starts to panic.

Led like this, his ear is pressed against Cas’ chest – his heartbeat the loudest thing he can hear. What if someone breaks into the Bunker without him knowing? What if something is happening to Sam? To Jack? And he hasn’t even brought a gun with him. He squirms a little, debating on popping back to his room to get one when Cas says,

“Are you thinking about getting a weapon, Dean? I promise you, you won’t need it.”

Cas’ deep voice rumbles through his body, rocking him out of his spiralling worry so quickly Dean briefly wonders if he used some of his remaining slither of grace to do it.

“I would never let anything happen to you.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“An intruder? Judging by our current position, I assume I am the being most visible from the door.”

Dean’s fingers curl in Cas’ borrowed sweater. “You mean you’d be shot first?”

“Yes.” Dean feels his arms tighten around him for a moment. “And I believe my body would shield you from the vast majority of attacks.” He sighs and his breath tickles Dean’s hair. “Of course, if someone were to gain access to the Bunker, it’s likely they would be a supremely powerful being. That would reduce our chance of survival by quite a lot. However, if you really insist on being armed, I am confident that in the few seconds I could shield you, you could at least reach for a makeshift weapon. Whatever good it would do.”

“Right. But...” Dean doesn’t really feel comforted. “I don’t want you to...” He can’t quite say the word.

“Die?” Cas finishes for him as his fingers begin to move, leaving warm trails over Dean’s back. “No, I cannot say that I am enthused by the idea either. I have no desire to leave you again.”

“Not ever?” Dean asks and despises himself for the needy edge in his voice.

“Not ever.” His hands are moving now, big and slow in soothing motions against Dean’s back. He can’t remember the last time he was held like this. Mom, he thinks. When he was a kid. He knows he must look pathetic – six foot plus guy that’s been to hell and back being held like a baby. He should move, should pull away, wipe his eyes and tell Cas it’s time he went back to his own room.

He doesn’t want to.

“You love me.” He says instead, face burning and mouth dry.

He feels Cas smile against the crown of his head. “Yes.”

“You’re like...in love with me.”

One of Cas’ hands moves higher, fingertips trailing over the back of his neck leaving goose bumps in their wake. “Yes.”

Dean will never admit to the half moan, half whine he lets out. He buries his face in Cas’ chest and breathes him in. The smell of him fills Dean’s lungs and Cas’ arms start to feel like a weighted blanket, pressing gently on his body. It makes his eyes soft and his limbs heavy.

As he drifts off, he feels Cas’ lips brushing against his temple.

Dean wakes slowly.

He’s cocooned in softness and warmth and he has no desire to rush anything anymore – least of all to the leave the comfort of his (new) memory foam and his angel. He shifts a little, nuzzling his nose against stubble.

“I thought you were making breakfast.” Cas’ voice rolls over him slow and sweet like honey.

“Hmm.” A murmur, breathed into Cas’ neck, is all Dean can manage.

“Dean, you did promise them.” Cas says, with barely a hint of firmness. His voice is a little husky, like he’s still battling the urge to sleep.

“Oh, yeah? When?” Dean’s lips brush over warm skin.

“Last night.”

He pretends to forget. “Can’t take anything I said last night serious, Cas.”

“Oh?” He sounds a bit more awake now – that familiar dry, teasing tone creeping in.

Dean feels a pang of something in his chest so intense he almost squirms. “Alright, maybe some things were serious.”

“Hmm.” One of Cas’ hands rubs languid strokes up and down his back. “I should hope so.”

The memories come back easy and bright, playing like a dream behind Dean’s heavy eyelids. The stillness of their bedroom is punctuated by the sound of quiet voices in the living room. He grins at that, relishing waking up with the love of his life and his family just in the next room. Happy. Safe.

“Screw ‘em.” Dean says, more to himself than Cas and rubs his foot along his leg a few times, settling down again.

Cas doesn’t seem to have any objections. His hand strokes higher, fingers brushing through Dean’s hair and his blunt nails lightly graze his scalp.

Dean almost whines, his head lifting to follow the touch. He half opens his eyes again and sees a smile, unhurried and adoring. Cas leans down a little and kisses him, stubble rough and lips soft. Dean’s fingers curl against skin and his legs squeeze a muscled thigh beneath the blankets.

They stay that way for a while – bodies warm and entwined, gently greeting each other as the new day dawns. The rising sun has drenched the room in rich yellow light, soft and muffled through the curtains.

Cas’ hand is just caressing his hip and his tongue is getting hotter and more demanding in Dean’s very willing mouth when there’s a knock at the door.

“I know you’re both awake.” Sam’s voice rumbles through the door, amused and still a little sleep rough. “And don’t think we forgot about breakfast either. Eileen wants pancakes and she says I don’t make them right.”

“Not unhealthy enough!” Eileen voice calls out, a little further away.

Dean laughs against Cas’ lips.

“Alright, alright! Gimme five.”

As they slowly detangle, he catches a glimpse of silver as Cas stretches. Dean’s hand feels heavy and warm, like someone’s been holding it for hours. Dean yawns and dangles one leg out of bed, then another. He’s easing himself into the day, taking it a bit at a time.

He can do that now.

He laughs as Cas drags him in for one last kiss before he slides away, shoving his feet into his slippers and tugging on his trusty robe. His ties it around him and wanders, a little stiff-legged, to the window. He pulls back the curtains and from the bed Cas both grumbles and raises his face to meet the sunrise.

Dean watches the sun bathe him in bright light and remembers seeing him like this before. But then it was moonlight and he and Cas were at some shitty motel just out of Colorado. Not in their own house, not in theirbedroom. Dean has his first unbearably intense wave of wild happiness. It won’t be the last one today.

“I like having a window.”

“I liked having eyesight.” Cas mutters, burying himself into the covers.

Dean laughs and thwacks him on the thigh as he passes out the door. Cas’ll be up in his own time.

Four steps and Dean’s in the kitchen.

His brother is perched on one of the chairs at the little island separating the kitchen from the living room. Eileen is signing at him and he’s watching, completely enraptured, with a look of total adoration on his face. Dean would have laughed at him for that once. Now, he knows what it’s like when someone looks at him like that. Now he knows what it’s like to look at someone like that.

But he might still laugh a bit. That’s a big brother’s right.

“Mornin’!” He calls cheerily, rummaging in the fridge for eggs and milk. He emerges triumphant, plopping them onto the counter with a grin. “If the lady wants pancakes, the lady gets pancakes.”

“Best brother in law ever.” Eileen says and Sam almost falls off his seat. She just shrugs cheekily. “Unofficially.”

“For now.” Dean winks and Sam splutters.

“Right, well. Once you’ve finished marrying me off, can we get some breakfast?”

“Alright, alright!” Dean glares but he’s itching to get started. “Goddamn demanding baby. Eileen you could do so much better. Sadly, I’m already taken - ”

She laughs and so does Sam. He wraps an arm around Eileen’s waist and she plays with his hair as they all talk. They talk about Jack getting hyperactive on sugared almonds, about Claire and Kaia wearing matching suits, about Jody and Donna getting drunk and singing karaoke until they were booed off the stage.

Then Cas stumbles out of their soft-lit room; hair wild and face crumpled. He bids them all good morning in a slightly rough tone before shuffling over for coffee. He cradles his mug in both hands as he leans against the corner counter, basking in the sun with his eyes closed.

Dean watches him, aching with joy.

Being in the dark with Cas is easy. But being with him in the light is better.

He twirls the whisk in his hand and it knocks against the ring on his left hand, so new it glows against his skin. Cas kisses his neck as he passes into the living room and Dean grins, looking up at his family.

“Hey, Eileen. What’s the sign for ‘husband’?”

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fic #spn fic #userstarry #dean and cas night time snippets throughout the years #it's mostly cute #ahhhhh my first spn fic i'm so excited #i really loved working on this #mine

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sooghostwriter · 3 years

Text

Only on the weekends

Member/Pairing: Do Kyung Soo x OC (Nameless)

Genre/Type: Mature, Romance, AU, smut.

Warnings: Full on sexy times, pegging (NOT daddy kink, NOT kink, just good old Christian pegging).

Word count: 11001 words (yikes, a third of the fic)

Notes: This story takes place wherever you want. You will see why it would be weird to center it in Korea.

Thank you to all of you who waited patiently for this last chapter. It was hard to focus on writing because of ADHD and life, but I'm glad I could finish it because I really wanted to write this scene. Scene that was the only reason why I started this fic, that then grew up a bit too much.

Also, thank you to my dear friend @thedeviousdo. Steph, thank you for answering whenever I asked you for your opinion and for fixing everything that needed to be fixed.

Summary: She is saved by a caring man from a little mishappening in the middle of the forest. A small act of kindness turns into seasons of laughs, food, fun, care, love, and sex.

Final Chapter

-Spring-

She was driving back home when she got a call from him. She pressed the answering button, and enjoyed how his voice filled her car “Hulder, I got good news”

“Are you getting a hot tub so we can have sex al fresco?” Kyung Soo snorted and told her he was still thinking about it “Anyway, as I was saying, I have good news, I got two weeks of vacations” Those were indeed good news “You got any plans, my man?”

“No, I want to stay one week at home, I have some things to do, but I don’t have plans for the other week” She offered him an idea. She told him that he could go to the city and stay with her. She had to work, but they could go out during the afternoon, and during the day he could meet his parents, friends, go to the cinema, shopping, etc. “I like it, I really like it, so this weekend, instead of you going to my place, I’m going to you”

“Sounds great, what about Baekhyun, Chanyeol, and the rest?”

“Chanyeol, the human, can stay at my house and take care of them, I need to buy food for him…so see you this Saturday morning?”

“Or Friday night” He agreed to Friday night. So instead of going home, she went to the supermarket.

Her home was clean, the heater was on, food ready to serve and Kyung Soo was parking in front of her building. She loved how he could make her feel butterflies all over her body just by smoothly getting his jeep between two city cars.

She greeted him with a long kiss. She was so happy to have him there, in her home, and for a week. This was going to be the longest they would spend together “What if this is some kind of test for our relationship and we end up hating each other?” She asked him as she served him a plate of creamy Ricotta Corn and Tomato Ziti. He grabbed a bite and took his time to praise her cooking before answering “I don’t think I could hate you, and I’m confident that this week is going to be me going out during the day, and us having sex during the night, there are a lot of surfaces we could try” He looked around nodding and took another big bite of food “Sir, I have to work, don’t forget that”

“I already thought about it, you finish work at six, I pick you up, we go out, we come back by nine, we fuck, and you are going to be sleeping by eleven” She was giggling uncontrollably “You have everything planned uh? I like it, probably I’m not going to function properly the next day, but who cares” He also shared with her his full schedule for that week. Visiting friends, going to the cinema, buying some clothes for the summer, it was a long list “It’s going to be fun” He commented cheerfully “Yeah I’m sure, you probably need to get your eyebrows done too”

“What?” He looked up from his plate, eyebrows up, eyes wide, completely lost. She kept quiet, controlling her smile “What? What do you mean? What’s wrong with my eyebrows?” He insisted, slightly annoyed, but still amused “Nothing, they are perfect, I’m sure you spend some time at the saloon fixing them”

“Are you making fun of me?” He was less annoyed now, smiling with her “A little bit, is cute” He rubbed his eyebrows, looking up “What’s with them, they are alright”

“They are perfect, I love them” He smiled and dropped the issue. But she kept giggling about it for a while.

She cleaned the table as Kyung Soo spoke with his parents, arranging breakfast and lunch with them. They knew about her, her parents knew about him, but none of their families were particularly nosy about their kid’s private life. And they weren’t in a hurry to introduce each other to their respective families.

She had just turned on the dishwasher when he walked behind her and captured her against his chest, dropping a kiss behind her ear “Wanna use one of your surfaces?” He asked, tightening his grip around her “We just ate, what about a nice walk around the neighborhood and then you fuck me”

“Sounds perfect” He dropped a kiss on her other ear and let her go so they could get ready.

As he promised. Kyung Soo picked her up at work every single day. They went on simple fun dates and then they arrived home so Kyung Soo could have his way with her. And she could have her way with him. Their time at her place made them very creative in the matters of sex. Slow, deep and messy or fast, hard and desperate. Sex where no words were needed. Sex where they kept making sure that the other was alright with what they were doing. Whenever they fucked at his place there was hunger in their movements. The first fuck of the weekend was always desperate, a bit harsh sometimes. Now it wasn't the complete opposite. It wasn't calmer, but the pace was different. They both knew that the next evening they were going to be at the same place. Time was different. Instead of enjoying the most from each other for two days, they had eight days to doing so. Although watching time pass was terrible.

By now she knew his body like hers. She could draw him by memory, with her eyes closed. She fell in love with waking up seeing his beautiful profile and going to sleep listening to his deep voice.

He left on Monday, and she felt incredibly sad to see him go. Instead of worrying about fighting with Kyung Soo after spending a week together, she should have worried about not wanting to let him go after spending a whole week with him. She got used to their casual intimacy too soon. She was missing his hand on her back as they walked inside a restaurant. His head on her shoulder when they were having breakfast.

She loved the small gestures and the soft displays of care. Always tender, always natural, and most of the time with a message of possession. And she didn’t care, because she was the same. She knew what her eyes said when she looked at him.

Mine.

---

She wasn't very fond nor connected with nature. But she felt like celebrating the official beginning of spring.

The weather in the city was still a bit cold, but the weather at the farm was already warmer. The threes were blooming, on their way to growing fruits during the summer. Baekhyun was shedding, and brushing his hair was one of her favorite parts of the weekend.

On Saturday, Kyung Soo had an emergency at work and left for the rest of the day. She was in charge of feeding the animal and making dinner. She fetched the veggies from his greenhouse all by herself, which later got her a congratulatory kiss from him.

They had dinner outside. It wasn’t warm, but nothing that a good poncho couldn’t fix. The sky was so clean that night, that they had to stay outside and enjoy the stars.

When they finished dinner, they sat outside, covered by a thick blanket and sharing a big cup of coffee “Love, I have an idea” He offered after sipping their coffee “Let’s go to the river for a night swim” She felt the excitement in her chest. Words weren’t needed, she stood up and Kyung Soo lead the way.

The flashlight they brought was unnecessary. The moon was bright enough to illuminate their path “Isn’t the water too cold to swim?”

“No, at night is always a bit…a tiny bit warmer, not super cold”

“Kyung Soo, just say is cold”

“It’s not! I swear is not as cold as during the day” She sank her hand on the water, and in fact, it wasn’t too cold, it was just cold. She turned around to mess with him but forgot her line of thought after catching him shirtless, pulling down his pants. The sight of his pretty butt covered in black boxer briefs was the only thing that mattered now. She felt like giving it a good bite. He folded his clothes and left them on top of a rock, away from the water “Are we skinny dipping?”

“That sounds fun, but I would rather not, I don’t want a river shrimp messing with my balls” She cackled, unable to continue taking off her shirt, so Kyung Soo helped her.

So, they got into the water on their underwear. And to her surprise, the water wasn’t very cold. Slightly lukewarm was probably the right way to describe it. And the outside was colder than the water, so it was a nice contrast. Still not better than a hot tub, which Kyung Soo still hadn’t bought “You will have your hot tub, I’m still thinking where can we install it so it looks good with the whole house, and we can also have privacy” He told her when she insisted “But babe, If you don’t want one don’t buy it, I just insist because I’m annoying like that”

“Nah, I want one too, Chanyeol’s mom got one and she always speaks wonders about it when I go visit her” She arranged her body against him, hugging his waist and resting her head on his shoulder “You go visit her often?”

“She is like a second mom”

“Invite her next week then, I will like to meet her” Some weeks ago she had met Kyung Soo’s friends. Finally, he decided to share his time with her, with his group of friends. It wasn’t something she would like to repeat too often though. It was a lot of work and energy. It was a group of four guys, but it felt like a village. They all had a lot of questions, a lot to share about Kyung Soo without his approval, a lot of stories. It was fun, messy, and heartwarming. Something that they could do once a month, not more than that. After all, their time was theirs and precious. She knew Kyung Soo was careful with how he shared his time. His work, his house, his farm, and his friends. At least that’s what she saw. She wondered if, in the past, a girlfriend was able to get into that schedule “Kyung Soo, You don't get lonely here?” She began building up her question “No, I spend a lot of time alone, which I like, but also I have my friends in town and I have you”

“What about before me, what about girls?” The building up kind of backfired on her, she wasn’t expecting the displeasure she felt the moment the word ‘girls’ left her mouth. She didn’t want to imagine girls, not in his present, not in his past “Girls?”

“Mmh, yes, girls, you didn't get lonely before?” She closed her eyes tightly, feeling stupid and hating where she was going with all this “No I didn't”

“That's good” Something in her voice made him search for her face, holding her chin softly “Is this jealousy?”

“No” She denied, poorly. He called her name followed by a chuckle, but she ignored him “Well, I must say, I like it, I like this jealousy quite a lot my love” She raised her right arm to slap his chest and make him stop, but he held her wrist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her between his strong arms. It was equally annoying and arousing “I knew who to call” He confessed, serious and honest “Good for you” He chuckled, caressing between her furrowed brows “But it's different with you”

“How?” She asked not sure of what kind of answer she was expecting “You don't shy away, you ask for more and I always want to give you more” He quickly clarified that he wasn’t comparing, but rather voicing out what he liked about her “I like some things, I enjoy doing some things and I know you can give them to me” She said through pouting lips. By now she kept acting like this because she knew Kyung Soo was enjoying it “I still don’t have enough of you, and I hope you are still excited about sharing time with me”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to feel less excited about sharing my time with you Hulder, ever”

“Are we talking sex-wise or love-wise?” She blurted out, not sure why she needed the clarification “Both” She sighed heavily, relieved and happy. Despite being surprised by her own questions, she knew that she could be this vulnerable with him. That he was going to answer, and maybe ask for clarifications later “I don’t want to make promises Kyung Soo, but you know that with me, you only need to ask and I will fulfill what you want” A smirk that she could only describe as dark arose in his lips “Are we talking sex-wise or love wise?” He threw it back at her “Both”

“Anything I want?” She nodded, her mouth replicating his smile. He called her with one finger. She moved her head closer to his, his warm lips brushing her ear. The noise of the river and the threes moving over them went mute and she could only hear his voice confessing what he wanted. She couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky she was, after hearing his whispered request. Later came the shock, after really processing what felt like a fantasy “You want me to peg you?” She asked in a soft whisper “I’m sure you are experienced” He commented offhandedly as he caressed her surprised face “How?”

“The way you touch me” He shrugged as his hand moved down her back, resting on her ass. Yes, she had played with his ass a couple of times, just because it was there and she knew it would feel great. She was surprised, and grateful when he accepted the touch “Are you sure?” She let herself show some of her excitement “I am” He answered amused “It could hurt”

“Not if you are careful”

“Have you done it before?”

“Not pegging, but I have done some things to myself” She closed her eyes, taking in his confession, imagining. And of course, getting aroused by it. The image of a Kyung Soo masturbating with some toy was something that never crossed her mind before, and now was everything she wanted to see. He looked gorgeous in her head.

He tapped her thigh and blew hair on her face “Stop imagining it”

“Can I see it?”

“No…well, we will see” That was enough for her “Can I see you?” He asked raising an eyebrow “Of course! I can do it now if you want, wanna watch me?” She started pulling down her underwear “Not now, just focus on the sky and the water” He stopped her hands and arranged her between his legs, hugging her against his chest.

---

She was out of the game one weekend because of her period. But at this point that was hardly something to lament. She still went to visit him, and still indulge with the pleasurable act of cuddle him and look at him. Caress his cute little head as he rested on her chest. Look into his magnificent wide eyes as he shared stories and sweet words with her. Kissing his button nose, caressing his soft cheeks, hear the prettiest laugh and his deep voice. At night she liked to play with his hair, rub his back and kiss the moles splattered over his body.

Those ways of intimacy, just whisper to each other at night, follow him around the kitchen just because she felt slightly cold and his back was always warm against her chest. Those moments made her see that all this was way deeper than any of them could imagine or recognize.

She knew his name and his smile will linger in her mind for a long time, even if everything ended at some point.

She used those previous days to prepare for Kyung Soo’s big night, as she liked to call it. He told her to order an extra bottle of lube because he was running out of it. Request that straight up turned her on. She had to do some shopping too. She had a harness that fit her perfectly and rubbed her in the right places, so she wasn’t planning on buying a new one. She did have to fish it from the bottom of her wardrobe since she hadn’t used it in years. But she did have to buy a new dildo. Hers was too big, and she didn’t feel like sharing it. So that night after work she went into her favorite sex shop website and bought what she needed. Next day delivery.

The moment she picked up her package she began feeling nervous. And that nervousness continued the following days. Kyung Soo noticed it over their video call and didn’t hesitate on making fun of her. But after he had his laugh, he made sure she was fine with all this “You want to talk about it?” He offered, sitting down at the table and resting the phone somewhere “Of course, I like talking about anything with you”

“What’s making you so nervous?” He asked calmly “Don’t laugh, but I started feeling a bit of pressure like you are losing your virginity and I have to make it unforgettable” He was quick to tell her how silly she was between giggles “Don’t laugh! I’m being serious, I’m preparing thoroughly” That caught his attention, his cute eyebrows showing his interest “What do you mean preparing? I’m the one that should prepare”

“Well sir, if you need to know, I just got in the mail the lube you asked for, and a new dildo”

“A new dildo?”

“Yeah, I could share mine, but it’s too big” He looked curious “How big?”

“As big as you, happy?” He chuckled again, shaking his head “I see, yeah, I think it could be too much for my first time…what else did you buy?” To his disappointment, there was nothing else to show. But the banter made her considerably less worried “I love that we can just talk about things like this”

“About you buying a dildo to fuck me this weekend?” He asked, looking serious but failing and breaking into a smile “Yeah, exactly that”

“Well, I love it too, I’m sorry it's making you anxious, but don’t overthink it and don’t worry, because I’m not, I can’t wait for this Friday” If Kyung Soo was there with her, she would be kissing him by now. They kept talking, with Kyung So throwing jokes at her nervous self until it was time to go to bed, and she excused herself saying she needed a shower “Take me with you then, leave the phone on the sink and keep the curtain open”

“Keep dreaming mister”

“I’m probably going to” She stuck her tongue at him and walked to the bathroom “Are you taking me with you?” He asked excitedly. She answered with an emphatic no “I know, I’m going to leave you then, have a good night of sleep and take care, I love you, beautiful”

“I love you too Kyung Soo, take care” She hung up after sending him a kiss and left her phone on top of the toilet.

She was exfoliating her elbows when it down on her. Kyung Soo said I love you and she said it back, as natural as when she cursed at her coworkers. Just coming from her heart.

She kept washing herself, not thinking too hard about it, only smiling the entire time.

She got ready for bed with the same smile, but this time wondering about things. Things related to Kyung Soo and their confession. She was sure she loved him. Whatever she was feeling could be easily described as love. He had become someone important to her. Probably one of the most important relationships in her life. And not only romantically speaking. She knew she loved him, maybe since a while ago. And now she knew he loved her, which was what was making her so happy. And she could only feel lucky by aiming her feelings and her dedication to him.

She was glad she said it back, like that, over the phone, after a fun, short talk. Easy going in comfortable, like everything between them.

Before falling asleep she stayed a long time staring at the ceiling. Covers up to her chin, feet moving under the covers, an incessant giggle rumbling in the back of her mouth. Pure bliss warming up her body as she thought about their first encounter and everything that followed. Spending almost a year with this beautiful man, which gave her butterflies in her chest and her pussy just by thinking about him. Who always gave it to her a little nasty and a little romantic.

----

She took the highway with a furrow on her face.

That Friday, work was horrible. She was tired, hungry, and slightly frustrated. It was 7 PM, the sun was still up and spring was already showing itself in each tree she passed by. Kyung Soo called her when she was halfway to his place. She put him on speaker and immediately relaxed a bit with his hello. She was sure Kyung Soo sensed something because instead of saying something about how excited he was, how he was waiting for her, he told her to drive carefully and that dinner was waiting for her.

After parking outside his house and pet Baekhyun, she went inside his house and greet him in the kitchen. He dried his hands and walked to her with a soft smile on his lips. He opened his arms wide and she felt something pulling her. With two quick steps, she reached for him and hugged him tightly, getting slightly emotional at the feeling of his arms enveloping her. She released a long sight and nestled her head on his shoulder, hiding on his neck “Long week?” He caressed her head and chuckled when she purred with his touch “Long and weird”

“Do you want to eat what I prepared for you and get drunk with wine?” She hugged him tighter, kissing his neck “That sounds amazing, but what about our night?”

“You mean you pegging me?”

“I have everything ready, but I’m so tired, and my head it’s just not here now” Kyung Soo grabbed her by the shoulders and made her look at him “Hulder, say what you need to say”

“You better offer it” He shook his head slowly, smiling warmly “You have to say it, you always have to tell me how you feel and what you need” She wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she hugged him tighter “Kyung Soo, can we leave the fun for tomorrow?”

“Of course we can, now go wash your hands, dinner is ready” She let go of him with a bit of resistance and kissed him on the cheek. Before going inside the bathroom, she called his name “Kyung Soo, what am I?” He put down the plates, chuckling. “You are such a good girl” She covered her mouth, shrieking, and went to wash her hands.

Kyung Soo prepared a delicious Cajun chicken with roasted potatoes and listened to her rant about work, the city, and the rude neighbor. They finished a bottle of wine over dinner and they opened another one to drink outside since the night was warm. In the beginning, they laid down in different deck chairs, but soon after Kyung Soo climbed on hers. Resting between her legs and laying his head on her chest. He dozed off a couple of times, but she didn’t. She was too focused on caressing his back and kissing his head “I like how warm you feel” He commented between yawns “Kyung Soo, when summer comes and it gets annoyingly hot, can I shave your head?” He knew how much she liked that look on him, so she was sure the proposal wasn’t strange for him “Sure... Are you planning on staying with me until summer?” His voice sounded playful, even confident. But the finger drawing circles in her waist betrayed him “I'm planning on staying with you until you get tired of me” He kept quiet. And he didn’t need to say anything. She could feel his response “Let’s go inside, it’s getting cold” He got up, rubbing his eyes, and helped her get up from the deck chair. She held his hand and didn’t let go as they got inside the house “Let’s go to the forest tomorrow” He offered as he locked the door, without letting go of her hand “Sure, I haven’t been there in months, but what if we met the real Hulder?” She covered her mouth in fake worry ��If we encounter her, we share her” He giggled, like always, and walked her inside the house, turning off the light on his way “Ok, but you can’t fuck her, if you don’t satisfy her she could kill you” She teased “Why wouldn’t I satisfy her?!”

“I don’t know Kyung Soo, I’m not her, I don’t know what she likes” She let go of his hand as she got inside his room “I’m still not sure about that, I still have my suspicions about you being a Hulder”

“Well my love, I haven’t kill you yet, so If I am a Hulder, I’m satisfied” He gave her one of his goofy laughs, and held her face, kissing her cheek.

They chatted for a short while before going to sleep. As she cuddled in Kyung Soo’s chest, he kissed her ear and hugged her tighter “I love you” He whispered, “I love you too” The answer came as easily as before.

That Saturday was a slow one. They went out of bed late, she went to feed the chicken as Kyung Soo prepared brunch. Around five, they packed some water and food into a backpack and they went for their planned walk to the forest. Hansel and Gretel without the drama. This time Baekhyun went with them, but on a leash, his tail wagging in happiness.

The trees were bright green or deep dark. The smell of the leaves, the sun hitting the floor and the humble wildflowers hit her nose almost violently. Her senses were always invaded whenever she visited him. In the best way possible.

Kyung Soo held her hand, probably fearing another accident in the forest. In between comments about how beautiful that flower was, or gasps caused by wildlife passing by them, they held a light conversation. As always, the topics were diverse and flowed easily. Picking up where they left when necessary. When a bit of silence fell upon them, she asked what she had been wondering since the morning but needed some build-up to finally ask “Today we are doing it right?” She didn’t need to explain “Of course, did you change your mind?” He asked with his usual calm “No! Of course not, it's just I can't even imagine how to start” He stopped walking and turned around, grabbing her other hand and holding her stare “This is how we start, we take a bath, then you leave me there so I can prepare myself and you can go prepare too” She gasped “That sounds perfect, let's go then” She pulled him in the opposite direction, but he stopped her. He let go of her hand and passed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss. After kissing her long and hard, he let go of her “Now we can go”. He grabbed her right hand tightly and pulled her with him, almost making her trip.

They still had some things to do around the house. But they both worked quickly.

The gate and doors of his house were locked and every single animal fed “I’m going to get the tub ready” She told him as he connected his phone to the charger “Call me when is ready then".

She filled the tub with hot water, spread some bath salts with citric scents, and only called him in when she was naked and submerged in the water. Kyung Soo came in shirtless and gasped stunned “It smells so good, and you look amazing in there”

“Come and join me” She purred, opening her legs to give him space as he pulled down his pants. He looked at her amused when she told him to sit between her legs and rest his back on her chest. He liked the idea. When she hugged him closer to her breast he sighed happily, sinking deeper in the water. She cupped some water on her hand and spilled it on his shoulders, nape, and neck. She poured some soap on her hand and started lapping his body. His muscles relaxed under her hand. His skin kept getting warmer, and he kept sighing in contentment “Are you feeling ok?” She asked him, whispering in his ear. He chuckled and laid back, pushing her to rest her back against the bathtub “Now is perfect” She began washing up his chest, rubbing his skin softly, slowly. She enjoyed that part way too much.

Kyung Soo spoke softly, chatting about small, unimportant things. His way to relax her, she was sure. But he didn’t have to. Not that she wasn’t nervous anymore. She was just growing more and more aroused. The hot water, his body against hers, touching him everywhere she wanted. His hands were exploring her thighs or grabbing hers to drop a kiss or guide them wherever he wanted them. It was impossible to be nervous or worried when distracted by him like that.

But she noticed how he started to grow a bit impatient. He was moving slightly restless, his grip on her thighs slightly tighter “I think we got you clean babe” She whispered in his ear. He straightened up in one sudden movement, almost comically, and patted her leg, hurrying her up. She went out, splashing his head with soapy water, and grabbed one of the towels “I’m going to leave you so you can prepare then”

“I will be there as soon as I can”

“No, don’t, I mean, take tour time” Kyung Soo gave her an exasperated look calling her name, elongating the last sound, provably seeing the worry in her face and voice “Don’t worry, go get dry” He splashed her some water and she finally walked out of the bathroom.

Trying to follow Kyung Soo’s advice to not to worry, she began preparing too. She brought the lube, harness, and dildo from her bag and toss them on the bed. Immediately, questions began flooding her head. Was it too soon to use a strap? Kyung Soo did tell her that he had used toys in the past. But what if the dildo was too big? What if he didn’t know how to prepare himself? Should she had brought poppers? Where poppers legal? What if she hurt him with her big dildo, not enough lube, and the lack of poppers? What if she traumatized him for not being able to fuck her boyfriend the right way?

She was pulled out of her panic when Kyung Soo grabbed her hips and pulled her to him. Capturing her by the waist and pressing his body to hers. He whispered her name on her ear and nuzzled her neck “What are you doing standing here?” She didn’t know what to answer. He moved his hands over her body “At least you are dry…is everything alright?” After a couple of seconds, she answered, or tried to “Is everything going to be alright?” She asked him trying to, as always, find some calm in him “Everything is going to be amazing, fucking amazing” He was able to pull a laugh out of her “Are those your implements?” He pointed at the bed where the three pieces rested “Yeah, lube, strap, and dildo, you like it?”

“It’s pretty, good size too, can’t wait to see you wearing it, why aren’t you wearing it?”

She turned around, hugging him by the shoulders pressing her chest against his. She always liked how his face changed whenever she did that “I was panicking a little bit, and forgot what I had to do” He kissed her nose and gave her a soft slap in her left thigh “Get on the bed and kneel over there” He ordered pointing at the edge of the bed. She took two steps back and climbed on the bed. She kneeled where he said and stretched her arms calling for him. He walked into her arms with a grin on his lips, holding her close, as he always did “Kiss me” He whispered, not that she needed the order, but she appreciated the low whisper. As soon as her lips grabbed onto his lower lip, something inside of her unleashed. Something between them began. Kyung Soo always deepened the kiss, sucking on her tongue and getting her first moan. She was so addicted to grabbing his hair as he sucked on her lips, stroking his shoulders as he rubbed her tongue with his. With one last lick to her lower lip, he moved along her jaw and down the slope of her neck. Their hasten breaths were synchronized, as their hands caressed each other’s skin. His lips were just a breath away from hers as he whispered beautiful things about her body, about his want. And she wanted, needed to give him everything he wanted. But his touch always overpowered hers. His hand moved with confidence and decision over her body. Knowing that he had complete freedom to do whatever he wanted. Confident that he knew just what she liked. She had that confidence too. But she was always so distracted by him.

He moved his hands down her waist, fondling her ass sweetly, making her giggle with the tickles. His hand kept moving down between her thighs until he reached her center moaning in triumph as he moved his fingers softly over her folds, spreading her wetness “You are already wet” He said, looking at her with wonder “I sure am…you get me like this so easily”

“Is it my touch or what is about to come?” He held her stare as he kept moving his fingers slow enough to drive her mad “It’s both, it’s everything, are you nervous?” She was acting a bit selfish worrying about her side of the story, of what she could do wrong, without checking on him first. Although he kept reassuring her how much he wanted this, she needed to check every step with him. His comfort, and his consent “A bit” He scrunched his nose, looking down “Relax” She whispered, caressing his ear “Touching you relaxes me” He rested his head on her hand “Then go ahead” A rumble of laughter in Kyung Soo’s throat made her sight, feeling completely taken by him “You are really looking forward to this” He joked “Really, really, really” She hid her face in his neck, already feeling a bit too much. Feeling like melting into his body. She grabbed his right hand, and he stopped moving immediately “Not yet?” He asked, voice soft and genuine. She only shook her head and with frenzy licked her way up to his neck, getting more moans and whispers in her ear. Although she wanted her pleasure, and she knew she was going to get it later, this was about Kyung Soo. And she wanted to make him lose his mind between her arms and legs.

She straightened her back, and whatever look she was giving him, he liked it. She could tell by the slight blushing and the cute smile on his lips. She reached for him with both hands, caressing his cheeks, feeling their warmth. She followed the path of his necks, shoulders, her fingers brushing his stiff nipples. With only her fingertips she caressed the soft lines of her stomach and kept moving down, inexorably towards his cock, but she passed it by and moved down his thighs, before going back upwards. This time she did what they both wanted and with one hand she began pumping his cock and held his waist with the other. She pushed down towards his pubic bone and then hard against the top of his dick. He was now fully erect, thrusting into her fingers.

Shame or even self-control were two concepts that weirdly applied to their relationship, so with that freedom falling upon them, she put her hands to work. One hand went to his balls, massaging and pulling, just hard enough, using the knowledge she has gathered over months of knowing him and touching him. Her other hand clasped around the base of his cock and squeezed. He choked out her name, and grabbed her face in his hands, bringing her lips to his, without kissing her. Just breathing and cursing on her mouth. She stayed like that, one hand around his balls, the other around his cock, swelling it. He got his pleasure, she got hers, and also an injection of confidence with every word of encouragement he roared in her lips. There was fire flowing through them, melting every cell of their bodies. She wanted him to go down on her, to ride his thigh, suck his dick. So many things. But above all that, she wanted to feel the strap around her hips. The power and unrestrained satisfaction that came from it.

Following a long, deep moan, he let go of her face and grabbed her wrists, stopping her hands from moving. He kept quiet, staring at her lips, frowning, a light sweat forming on his temples. Her body shivered with the tension he was forming. If he wanted her to beg she would do it happily “Kiss me, Kyung Soo, please” She felt his grip tightened, as he granted her wish, kissing her hard and fast. The kiss was short, as he began kissing across her chest, slowly, firmly. He traced along her collar bones, her nipples, lingering there, biting them, and pulling them. She was suddenly very aware of them as one of his hands let go of her and traced a line down her sternum, across her stomach, and in one swift move he cupped her pussy and inserted two fingers in. He did it in time to his lips pinching her nipples. She shouted in pleasure, throwing her head back, moving her hips as his fingers continued moving inside of her. His lips kissed their way to her ear and with a low whisper he asked her “Do you want me to make you come?” She shook her head, her mouth too busy moaning “You want to make me come?” She nodded, searching for his lips, but not succeeding. He was now away from her, his hand had moved from between her legs to her hips “Then put that on and do it” He pointed at the middle of the bed where the strap on was. She noticed how his fingers were still wet, so in an attempt to balance the power, she grabbed his hand at took it to her mouth, sucking him clean “Sit down and watch me get ready” He smiled as she gave his fingers a last suck. Kyung Soo sat at the edge of the bed and handed her the strap. She grabbed it and told him to pay attention “So next time you can put it on me, it’s not hard, but I’m particular about the tightness”

“I’m going to burn it in my memory”

“Very good” She slid the piece up her legs and arranged the straps over her hips and under her thighs. With clumsy fingers, due to the whole situation and a bit of rustiness from her side, she arranged the sliders, tightening them around her body. The dildo moved rather comically as she accommodated the strap, but it was part of the experience so she just giggled. Once she was done, Kyung Soo reached for her, so she took a step closer and let his hands wander over her strap “It doesn’t hurt, or scratch your skin?”

“No, this is good quality, no chafe, water-resistant, I can even wash it in the washing machine” He chuckled and with one finger followed the line of the purple dildo “Nice color” He commented, weighing it on the palm of his hand “You like it? Like how I look on it?” He stood up and pulled her to him by the straps of the harness “I like it, and you look beautiful, tell me what to do now” She took a deep breath, her heart racing “Get on the bed, to start, get on your hands and knees, I’m going to prepare you and then we can start, is that alright?” He took a deep breath, clearly feeling the same things she did, and nodded once “It’s alright, I’m a bit embarrassed, I’m not sure that’s the right word, maybe a bit self-conscious”

“I think that’s the right word, but don’t worry, you are going to start enjoying it soon” He nodded again and gave her a peck on the lips, turning around and climbing on the bed.

She had to slap herself to wake up from the daze of watching him just give himself to her, and to pump herself up. This was going to be unforgettable for both. And it was all in her hands. And she was going to do it perfectly. She was going to fuck the hell out of him.

She already knew how much experience he had. How much he could take, after speaking long and open about it over a couple of phone calls. She knew she didn’t need to explain too much to him either. But she knew she had to check on him in every step, after all, this wasn’t the same as using his fingers or a butt plug. Kyung Soo handed her the bottle of lube and arranged himself on the bed, as he told him, on his hands and knees.

She felt so lucky, so incredibly in love with him. Especially when he looked over his shoulder and asked her what she was waiting for “I’m sorry, I was just taking you in”

“Yeah? Looks good?”

“So incredibly good”

“I’m glad, so…I just have to stay here” She kneeled next to him and held his cheek, making him look at her “Stay here, relax, tell me if you feel any discomfort and if you like it…I want to hear that too” He nodded and patted her thigh, hurrying her. She went back to her previous position and squirted a good amount of lube in her fingers, spread it around her dildo, and then reached for his hole. At the first touch, he jolted, so she stopped immediately. He told her to go ahead, so she did. She moved the tip of her fingers in circles, covering the exterior with lube. Massaging to help him relax and stimulate him. With one long breath, he bent his elbows, resting his head on the bed, bringing his hips up. She smiled to herself and followed the need of her other hand. She grabbed his thigh, moving her hand up slowly until she reached his behind giving it a hard squeeze “Kyung Soo, babe, can I spank you later?” He released a breathy laugh “Sure you can, it’s only fair, I always spank you”

“Thank you” She whispered, vibrating with excitement. She kept moving her hand up, caressing the dimples on his back, staying there a bit longer as she kept massaging his entrance. Feeling it warmer, and definitely more relaxed. She looked at his body, feeling some appetite growing in her. A need to lick up his spine and taste the gold that came from the sun. She kissed his lower back and kept moving up. Kissing and licking each bump of his spine. Kyung Soo had his face hidden on his arms, she could hear low moans escaping his lips as he moved his hips, seeking more of her touch. Arching his back, begging her to enter. She positioned herself behind him and held to his hips, grinding the strap onto him slowly. He released a breathy laugh “What?” She asked surprised “I’m so turn on is stupid” He followed by a chuckle. She laughed with him, grinding again against him, turning his cute laugh into a moan “I need to prepare you some more though” She offered with a bit of worry “I’m fine, I already took care of it” She didn’t want to make him wait anymore, so she reapplied lubricant on him “Take a deep breath, relax and release as it goes in”

“Ok”

“And tell me if it hurts”

“I will” She kissed his right cheek and eased into him slowly. She saw in awe how he opened up for her. Slowly, with a slight resistance, but with a soft yet constant pressure, she was able to get half of the strap inside him. She listened closely to his sounds. Grunts mixed with soft moans, his shoulders looked tense, but the curve of his back told her that he wasn’t that bad. She had to ask anyway “Are you feeling alright?” She stopped moving before getting his answer “It feels weird, but no pain whatsoever”

“Want me to go on?”

“Yes please, I want it all in” She jolted as she felt his sentence hit her right on her clit. Excitement rumbled in her chest imagining how good it was going to get. Because it was never enough, she purred some more lube on her and kept pushing in, holding his hips with one hand and the base of the dildo with the other. Soon enough, she was all in.

Kyung Soo asked her to stay there, without moving so he could get used to the fullness. She caressed his thighs and back, looking at where they were connected with a big smile. She liked looking at his buff frame in the bed, under her. Because even if they were the same height, she always felt smaller in his arms. A sense of him covering her, embracing her. It wasn’t bad at all, but she always enjoyed being on the other side. Now she didn’t feel bigger, she wasn’t seeking that. But she felt him as something precious between her arms. Someone she needed to take care of, be very careful not to hurt him. Never to hurt him.

Kyung Soo’s shoulders were now fully relaxed and breathing more steadily. He reached behind with one hand and grabbed her hand that was resting in his left hip “I’m good now, move” She didn’t answer, only held onto his hand and began moving. Her hips backed up enough to leave only the tip of the strap in, and then with a slow motion, she went back in. He offered less resistance this time, but she was equally amazed and aroused by his body taking her in. He shivered, breathing faster. His hand let go of hers and went to his dick, pumping himself slowly. She moaned, lowering her chest, and hugging him from behind. Kyung Soo answered with a moan, lifting his head from the mattress and resting on his hands. She kissed his shoulders and neck, and he moaned, turning his face, searching for her lips. The cuteness and sexiness of it all made her buck her lips a bit harder, to which Kyung Soo answered with a louder moan. She was going to apologize for the sudden move, but he interrupted her “Like that, keep moving like that babe” She held his hips and straightened her back, arranging her angle. Now that she had his permission, she began experimenting with different speeds. Going in slowly, bucking her hips harder, in one swift move or faster, going in and out quickly. He was gasping with pleasure, getting out soft moans. Heat was unfurling in her core and she felt a quickening in her veins. She wasn’t going to come, neither Kyung Soo, but the sensation was close to that. The faster she moved her hips, the more she felt the strap rubbing her. There wasn’t a direct stimulation, but rather a constant pressure that kept her aroused. That and seeing her boyfriend enjoying this. Kyung Soo’s back was glistening, his muscles showing more due to the current workout.

She lowered her hips, trying a different angle, and started making small circles with them “Fuck, that feels amazing” He grunted, his mouth open and panting. She repeated the movement and grew a bit more confident, finally owning her role. She began pulling his ass into her as she pushed into him. Then slid out of him, and squeezed his ass, dropping the first slap. He jolted, releasing a gasp mixed with a moan “Do it again” She repeated her moves, getting another moan.

After a couple of times, Kyung Soo patted her thigh, calling for a time out “It's everything ok?”

“It is, it really is, I’m just a bit…overwhelmed” She used that time to reapply lube in their dildo, as Kyung Soo controlled his breathing. She massaged his thighs and butt cheeks, and despite how beautiful was her current view. She missed his face. She missed looking at him as they had sex, seeing his pleasure take over. His dark eyes and red, wet lips “Kyung Soo would you turn around so I can watch you” She asked softly, sweetly, knowing that it will take some convincing from her side. And his answer was what she expected “Is it really necessary?” Followed by a groan “Please, do it for me, I really want to see you, and also is going to feel great I promise”

“I know it will” He grunted again and slowly turned around, hissing as he sat on the bed “What? What is it? Does it hurt? Did I peg you wrong?” He started chuckling, covering his face with both hands “No you didn’t peg me wrong, I’m alright” He arranged his head on the pillows, dried his forehead with the back of his hand, and looked at her with hooded eyes “What?” She asked, fixing her hair, slightly self-conscious under his stare “You look gorgeous” He muttered, uncovering his face “I do?” Kyung Soo’s legs were slightly open, so she got in between them, hovering over him, one hand on each side of his head “You too, so beautiful” He gave her a beaming smile, turning his head to the side to drop a kiss on her wrist. The shine of his neck, covered in sweat, caught her attention. She lowered her body and dropped a kiss on his jaw. When Kyung Soo tried to turn around and kissed her, she grabbed his chin and held his head still, giving her better access to his neck “I’m all sweaty” He complained, but she ignored him, leaving a couple of love bites on her way. After showering his face with kisses, she pushed herself up, arranging herself between his legs. She took in his current estate. Messy hair, red lips, and shiny eyes, his neck now marked by her, sweaty chest, still breathing heavily. She could tell he was enjoying all this. Hopefully thanks to her. But what made her the proudest was the red, hot erection he was displaying “Look at you, so pretty” She simply observed, but still made Kyung Soo chuckle with a bit of embarrassment. She was hovering over him again, trying to go for another kiss, when her hair popped out the bobby pin she had put on. Locks of hair cascaded over her face, tickling his face, getting in the way. She lifted one hand from the mattress trying to fix it, but Kyung Soo bit her on it. He passed his fingers through her hair and then carefully placed it behind her ear. With soft fingers he caressed down the shell of her ear, rubbing her earlobe. She moaned with his touch, closing her eyes in pure pleasure “You liked that?” He asked amused “I like how soft you are”

“Soft?”

“Yes, soft, because even when you are rough with me, it’s rooted in your tenderness, the calm you share with me”

“So it’s a good thing” He wondered, fixing her hair on the other side “It’s a perfect thing” He grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down for a kiss. His tongue tracing over her lips, a possessive hand on her neck “You are not done with me right?” He whispered against her lips, low and fast. She answered with a smile, moving away from him, this time for good.

She arranged a pillow under his hips, caressing his thighs on her way. She repeated the process of lubing him up and her strap. There was always a hint of a smile whenever she looked at him, already relaxed and less worried about being exposed to her like this “Ready?” She asked him, kissing his right knee. He only nodded, taking a deep breath as she rubbed the tip of her dildo over his ass. She pushed inside slowly, noticing how easier it was to get in. Kyung Soo released a long moan, lifting his head from the bed, looking down at them.

This position was definitely better. Watching his expressions, seeing his chest move in compass with his heavy breathing. She moved her hips slowly, watching her strap going in and out of him, feeling extremely aroused by the scene. Doing this now, knowing that he was watching her, made her feel bolder. More sensual and definitely more resolved to give him the best night. Kyung Soo's hands wandered down his sides, locking his fingers with hers. He pulled her hands to his hips and held them to his hipbones “Go harder” He mumbled, moving his hands over his dick, grunting as she obeyed, pounding him harder. There was a short moment, just a couple of seconds where she felt like looking away. As if this was too intimate for her to watch. Too beautiful and bright. As if looking at the sun. But after those two seconds were gone, she reminded herself that this was for them to enjoy, for her to watch. Just for her. And she was going to make sure that she was the only one having him like this. The only one that he could come to when needing this kind of pleasure.

A pleasure that she knew she was going to need again someday. Because the power she felt, the constant rush of pleasure between her legs, the drops of sweat falling down her back, and their sounds were unique and addictive. It was driving her crazy, and she could tell Kyung Soo was on the edge too. She knew him good enough now, she knew every single one of his gestures. Kyung Soo bit down his lower lip, grabbing her hands and tightening his legs around her. She grinned in triumph before he said anything “I'm going to cum” He grunted, bucking his hips restlessly. Her dirty mind worked quickly. She stopped moving her hips and made him look at her “Where do you want to come?” He kept silent, his ears reddening adorably “Please say it” She pleaded, rubbing the back of his hands soothingly. He groaned, and then pulled himself up, letting go of her hands to grab her face. He pressed his forehead to hers, their mouth so close that when he finally answered her question, his lips were brushing hers “I want to come inside you”

“Fuck” She grunted against his lips, pulling out of him and getting on her back. Because she wanted the same. She began pulling the strap loose to take it off, but Kyung Soo stopped her “No, leave it there” She felt her eyes water. Too good to be true.

Kyung Soo helped her arrange herself on the bed and then tried to reach for a condom. But without second thoughts, she grabbed his wrist “Don’t… I want it all inside me” He whispered her name in shock and asked her twice if she was sure “I am, do you want it too?”

“Yes, fuck, I want it too” She pulled him closer with her legs, and bucked her hips against him, desperate. He licked his lips in the most menacing yet sensual way. With a half-smile, Kyung Soo grabbed her by the strap pulling her closer. He caressed her pussy, up and down, slowly, covering his fingers with her cum “You are so wet, so hot, I can see you enjoyed fucking me”

“Kyung Soo, you can’t even imagine how amazing it was” He chuckled, grabbing his cock, teasing her entrance “If it felt half as amazing as it is to fuck you, then it was worth it”

“Did you enjoy it?” He chuckled again and began pushing inside her “Why don’t you feel how much I enjoyed it” He tried to do it slowly, but she felt how he began losing control, shoving his dick inside her in one rough push. She moaned loudly, arching her back, grabbing her breasts to enhance every sensation. Kyung Soo cursed again, bucking his hips slowly, his eyes tightly closed as he buried himself deep inside her. She sighed, feeling some sort of relief, surprised by how nice it felt to be stretched by him, skin to skin. She opened her eyes, looking over at him. He had his eyes closed, his long lashes fluttering, his nostrils flaring as he grunted long and low. He called her name a couple of times, a sharp inhale brimming with longing. He began moving his hips slowly, their moans harmonizing. She watched him struggle to keep his eyes open when she couldn’t close hers. Not wanting to miss any of his reactions, keeping all this in her memory. But her memory wasn’t enough. She wanted the feeling of his skin burned in hers, and the taste of his mouth in her tongue. She reached for him, stretching her arms, but only brushing his shoulders with the tip of her fingers. She called his name, a whisper that was barely audible between his grunts and her moans. She tried calling him louder, and he finally opened his eyes, an urgent look in his eyes. She moved her fingers, stretching her arms farther away trying to reach for him. Something close to a growl sounded in Kyung Soo’s chest, and he did what she was begging for. He dropped on top of her, taking her breath away. Their mouths, all thrashing lips and probing tongues, ravenous animals. His fingers rivaled to reach her ribcage and grab and squeeze her waist. He let go of her after giving a long deep suck to her lower lip and kissed his way down to her chest. Kyung Soo groaned, squeezing her breasts together, and sucking a nipple between his lips “Don’t stop, please don’t stop” Her fingers weaved through his thick, dark hair, holding him prisoner against her chest. His rhythm remained slow. He panted and groaned on every stroke. Her release was pooling, so close, but not there yet. The edging was maddening and addictive. With one of his thrust, she felt him deep inside, and he stopped moving. He stopped kissing her and just rested his forehead on her chest, breathing heavily. She rubbed his neck and caressed his shoulder blades, moving her hips to the side, just a small movement to gain some friction “You are so deep inside me baby” She purred, with a clear agenda. Kyung Soo bucked his hips, moaning and getting what she wanted. He lifted his head, locking eyes with her, his cheeks red and his eyes shining “You are so fucking hot, I’m going insane” He ended with a short laugh, giving a hard thrust. He pushed himself up, making her miss his chest against hers, but sure that it was about the get better. He lifted one of her legs up to his shoulder, opening her up even further for him. He pulled himself out of her, looking between her legs with wonder as he rubbed himself. She was shaking, breathing fast, her hands sliding down her body, wanting to touch herself, but the strap was still on her way. She tried to lose it, move it to the side, something. But Kyung Soo grabbed the dildo, and pulled her hips to him, ramming his cock deep into her. She moaned loudly, and lifted her back, propping herself up on her elbows. Kyung Soo’s pace took off at speed, each thrust more powerful than the last. He let go of her strap and grabbed her head, pulling her closer as he laid down on her, stretching her leg and moving deliciously inside her “I’m going to come” He whispered, looking her in the eye “Yes! Don’t stop and come with me, give it to me Kyung Soo, fill me up baby” Kyung Soo cursed loudly, giving short and quick thrusts, moaning against her mouth. One last curse came before he pushed hard, spilling inside her. In an attempt to shut his moans down, he sucked on her neck, making her see white, finally reaching her orgasm. She held to his shoulders as she could, moving her hips with

no control, moaning on his ear, feeling him all over her walls. His open mouth was panting against her neck, whispering her name as she was still moaning, moving her hips seeking for more, just a bit more. With a loud grunt, Kyung Soo pulled out until only the tip of his cock stayed inside her and then plunged back inside. She moaned again, as he gave her a breathy laugh. She laughed with him, her gaze fixed on his face, his pupils blown wide enough that his eyes looked black. His body undulated, rocking in and out for the last time. She could already feel him going soft inside her. The muscles of his shoulders and chest began to relax beneath his skin until he finally stopped moving, drying his forehead with the back of his hand. She felt the aftershocks of her orgasm ease down her body, making her stretch her limbs. There was a short silence after both of their moans ceased down and their breathing reached a normal rhythm “Are we going to need another bath?” He asked to break the melted ice. But she ignored him at first, focused on the way he was losing the sliders of her strap. She let him finish what he was doing, a small smile on his gorgeous lips as he pulled the piece down her legs and then tossed it somewhere in the room “A bath sounds good, but later, come here first” She laid on the bed next to him, her head on the fluffy pillows and grabbed his arm, pulling him to her. He laid next to her, passing an arm under her waist and a leg over her hips. She cuddled him closer, hugging him and pulling his face to hers, catching his lower lip with her needy mouth. As always, he responded with the same neediness. Kissing slow, nasty slow. His hand moved over her back with more gentleness, his breath and moans a soft whisper. She rubbed his left thigh, trying to ease some of the soreness he must have felt, and then over his lovely ass. Carefully, in case he was feeling any discomfort “I’m ok” He commented between kisses, reading her mind “You sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

“No, there is a ….sensation, but I wouldn’t call it pain” She sighed with relief. Kyung Soo opened his eyes, now less dark, but clearly a bit tired. He looked at her, making her feel flustered under his stare “What?” She felt her cheeks growing red and she loved that feeling "Stay, stay with me the rest of the week." He sounded so serious, she could almost feel the possessiveness in his hands that held her ribs. This was the first time he had ever said anything like this to her before. Not even as a joke. It was usually her that decided on the time they spent together, how long she would stay at his place. It was almost an order, he was taking control of their time. "I think your orgasm is talking." She tried to ease the intensity in his eyes, in his words. "No it's not, stay for the week, stay for the rest of your life with me." She giggled seeing his grin get larger, his tone softening to a light tease. She grabbed his face, squeezing his cute round cheeks before kissing him tenderly. "Let's talk about it over breakfast ok?" She asked, trying to appease his sudden need for her to stay. She wasn't trying to give herself time to think about it, she knew what she wanted. She only needed the time to make a few calls, move things around to free up her week. But there was a conversation they needed to have, needed him to hear. Because being with him for a week, at their beloved farm, will only make her wish for more. For more than a week here with him. And if she were honest, if that couldn't happen she'd just kidnap him and disappear in the forest. Away from work, away from weekdays, away from only weekends.

After all, maybe she was the Hulder he claimed her to be.

The End

#exosnet #exowritersnet #kyungsoo #d.o #do kyungsoo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #kyung soo

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ephemerlskies · 4 years

Text

of honey and cinnamon | jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader

⇢ genre: fluff, one shot, slice of life au, enemies to lovers, musician!jungkook

⇢ word count: 14k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of terminal illness, mentions of death, themes of grief, slight plot twist, a surprising consumption of sugar, enough cheesiness to last you a lifetime

⇢ summary: what makes a three-day train ride back to your hometown anything but dull and dreadfully long? the answer, and your salvation from a boring trip home, was being stuck in the same cart as jeon jungkook for the entire ride there. unknown to you, he would turn this mundane trip into an unexpected adventure.

♪ playlist: dream a little dream of me - ella fitzgerald, departure - joe hisaishi, a journey (a dream of flight) - joe hisaishi, longing for mother's return - satoshi takebe, the sixth station - joe hisaishi, a town with an ocean view - joe hisaishi, you're in love - joe hisaishi, one summer's day - joe hisaishi ♪

a/n: this was honestly one of my favorite fics to write! ever! it was heavily inspired by studio ghibli movies hence the playlist because i recently binged a bunch of ghibli films (and i do not regret it) so, i tried to replicate the vibes from the movies i watched as best as i could!! :)) i hope you lovely readers enjoy!

They tell you love takes time. If you are patient and attentive enough, it courses through your body easier than your own blood and sinks itself in each vessel and bone and cell. Love will melt into your heart until that is all it knows. And in tales where lovers make grand gestures, like slaying the dragon and giving the moon and the stars and the sky along with the world underneath it and bestowing true love's kiss, it takes an entire story to get to the part where they are in love.

Love takes time, and in that time, there is a series of sometimes likely, and sometimes unlikely, events woven delicately within each minute that leads to the moment you know, you are in love. Traditionally, love makes itself known. It is loud and beautiful and anything but hidden within the ordinary moments used to fill in the gaps between the bigger moments.

This story, your story, existed during the moments in between.

This train station had always emulated such an archaic ambiance. So much so that you believed you'd traveled back in time to when it was first built. Everything felt surreal, when you stepped on the train making a beeline to Cart 102, the floors felt like water; the surface tension clinging just strong enough to keep you afloat not without the occasional toss and turn. You swore it was just the rusted tracks that jostled you, but a part of you knew it was the water.

"Single rider?" The attendant stood at your cart's checkpoint, hand extended and waiting for your ticket.

"Yes, here." You handed him the paper, along with your baggage but kept the book for future entertainment and the pillow because you could tell the seats were no softer than wood.

"The train is fully occupied, so someone will be sharing your cart."

Perfect. If the world wants to do you a favor, just this once, then you hope that it sends you a quiet passenger. One that exchanges the customary 'hello' and 'goodbye' which is the extent of your interaction with them because you were tired in a way that sunk you into your zone of unsociability and on your way back home for the worst possible reason.

And the world did, in fact, do you a favor. It delivered Jungkook to Cart 102. But it just was not the favor you expected.

At first, you believed him to tick all your requirements for the ideal travel companion. Perfectly manicured company with a clear sense of boundaries. For one, he entered with a wall of silence that not only kept a greeting gated in but even the slightest acknowledgment that you were seated right across from him. It was so natural for him to ignore you that you had to glance down at your hand to check if you really were invisible.

He took his seat, stared out of the frost dusted window that reflected the sliding door that separated you and this man from the rest of the train and the world, and sighed. For a moment, he just stared and you thought it would get easier from here. But then he turned to you, and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Jungkook." It was a full smile, one that showed nearly every tooth, which reminded you of a rabbit. That paid enough respect for the previous shouldered entrance, and at first it was cute. Then, it made you feel guilty.

It was a smile you couldn't afford to return at the moment, so instead, you offered back a slightly upturned lip and a cordial nod.

"___." His hands looked strong like they had handled an array of heavy things and had the calluses to prove it. The way he sat made you feel a spark of something.

It was only a few seconds later when you realized that something was an unbridled annoyance. His legs were spread out, having you picturing the times he'd monopolize the space on a crowded bus. Jungkook was probably the type of man who was born with an entitlement that carried through to every part of his life, including the way he sat down on trains and pissed the living hell off of you.

"Like what you see?" Now you were pissed off for two reasons. The way he sat and the fact that you just got caught staring at him; his lap to be specific.

Soon, the two reasons doubled when your eyes returned to the smile on his face that didn't seem to have gone away. He was proud to catch you in the act, and most likely assumed your staring was due to an attraction so gripping that you couldn't help yourself but to stare at his crotch of all things.

"No, I was just..." Your words caught in your throat, because you weren't about to explain why his spread position on the seat had drawn an irritation from you thicker than the blood pulsing loudly through your body. You didn't want him to know you cared enough to be irritated in the first place, even if that meant letting him believe your staring was a form of unspoken flattery. "No."

"Okay, whatever you say, ___." It was the sarcasm this time, and the way he said your name that pissed you off. There was a seed inside you, ready to bury in your gut and grow just enough for you to rip his tongue from his mouth so he'd never have to say your name again.

"You'd think you didn't want to make the person you're about to spend three days on a train with angry, but maybe you're just that dumb." Insulting him gave you instant relief from the headache you knew was about to assume your forehead.

"Damn. Guess you're not the type to take a joke." Jungkook revealed his teeth one by one again, but you didn't describe it as a smile. A smile is something you thought to be beautiful, a physical expression of joy. No, what his face possessed was something sadistic. You were sure of it.

The way he carried himself and voiced his thoughts were more concentrated than arrogance. There was not a word in any language that could properly describe Jungkook. Nor was there a feeling that could render yours into something palpable. And the world had sealed you inside this cell marked Cart 102 with the person who was grainy and slick like quicksand, and just as deadly because you were sinking into him and every feeling he had provoked within the ten minutes you'd known him.

Jungkook was the first person you hated. Beyond every rude customer, every demanding boss, every high school bully, every cut tie, there was Jungkook who wore that heavy medallion of hatred around his neck like he was proud of it.

In all honesty, you thought he should wear it. He earned it. Everyone should know that you hated Jungkook and that it only took him a record-breaking ten minutes to attain the once unattained title.

You began to read your book, however 'read' didn't accurately describe what you were doing, which was staring blankly through the same words while collecting more reasons why you hated this man. It became an obsession of yours in a few short moments, because now you didn't just hate the way he sat and spoke and smiled. You hated how his breathing was somehow louder than the wheels grinding against the metal tracks or how whenever another train would pass by, he'd bring his face so close to the window you could see the warmth of his breath cling onto the glass and form a small, foggy patch.

You especially hated that you could quite literally feel his eyes on you, blistering your skin like the way a magnifying glass would redirect the sun's rays onto a target, which just so happened to be your face. Jungkook was unrelenting; as if he were trying to sear your skin with a permanent brand of his eyes.

Between the rhythmic flipping of the pages that you weren't reading, you were compelled to reprimand him for the staring. Maybe throwing his own words back into his face about 'liking what you see' would do your own vengeance justice. But that might indicate you were thinking of what he said to you this whole time.

"The weather looks so cold. It's practically raining." You moved only your eyes up from your book to study him.

He was looking out the window again, eyes chasing each speck of mist preluding the raindrops that were surely going to fall. It always rained at night.

"Looks like another thunderstorm." You packaged up the gasp that was about to burst from your chest.

For reasons you'd rather not share with a complete stranger you were hellbent on hating, you were terrified of thunder. Not lightning, but the loud crash that followed it. It was the last thing you wanted to experience while bottled up in a train with Jungkook.

"Excuse me." Your abrupt stance interrupted Jungkook's rain watching.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"None of your business." The slam of the sliding door echoed the anger you didn't express before as it snapped shut, fractionating the air you once shared with Jungkook.

You took a deep breath, the air outside felt cooler. The attendant was loyal to his assigned post, which was convenient for you.

"Sir, is there any way I can switch carts?"

"No, full train. And your ticket says Cart 102, so that's where you were meant to be." His eyes were sheltered by his hat, so there was no chance of pleading with your eyes if you couldn't even see his.

"Fine." It was a long shot, one that you didn't have the aim or trajectory for. You suppose he was right. Cart 102 was where you belonged for now. You just couldn't accept that Jungkook also belonged there with you.

Inside, the warm yellow light was beckoning you back in. Through the door, the brightness glimmered out until it was consumed by the dark hall where you stood. Jungkook was looking out of the window again with a rising and falling chest; you could hear his breathing even from behind the door or at least, you could imagine how it would sound.

"If we're going to share a cart, we could at least be friends." Jungkook's suggestion made him too human, too real for you to hate. You wanted to cling on to the idea that he was a horrible person, harboring more vices than the devil himself. But his voice was friendly sometimes, and his smile looked loving, occasionally, when he presented it to you.

"I don't see why we can't just be silent for the rest of the ride."

"Why are you going back home?" For a second, you were shocked enough to forget you were supposed to hate him. His gaze was calm and carried none of the worries yours had. You wondered, just for a second, about all the others who were on the receiving end of his gaze, and if they felt the way you felt when he looked at you. That look that distinguished him from anyone you had ever met.

You didn't want him to be right, because you didn't want the 'why' to be real. The tragedy, the only thing demanding enough to peel you away from your life away from home, should not have been the 'why' that put you on this train. But it was, and it made you angrier than he did.

"How do you know I'm going home?" You injected each word with a sharpness that you hoped would sting Jungkook.

"Well, are you going home?"

"Yes... are you?"

"No, just visiting." His eyes returned to the window, like a refrain in a poem. Always returning to look somewhere out into the beyond.

"Well, you should count yourself lucky." And you returned back to your refrain, pretending to read just so you wouldn't get caught staring at him and listing more reasons you hated Jungkook because that was easier than thinking of what was really bothering you.

"Lucky. Huh." You wanted to know what was so captivating on the other side of the window. What could have possibly supplied his eyes with something that was more interesting than the inside of this train? "Why are you going back home?"

"You already asked that."

"And you didn't answer me." Perhaps it was the stars, and he was tracking them in his mental inventory, examining until they were replicated along his memory the same way they were plotted across the sky. "Why are you going back home?"

"My mom. She's dying." Stars seemed to be a beautiful thing to keep your eyes occupied in a way your mind couldn't be, but you couldn't see past the thick fog and lack of light. "She's sick."

"I'm sorry to hear." His sincerity worked against all the animosity you'd cultivated for him.

How could he see the stars? You were going to ask, but you didn't want him to know what lied beyond the small beacon of light surrounding the train was lost to you, or rather you lost them. You wanted to hate him, so you didn't ask.

"I knew something bad must have happened to get someone like you to come home." That comment certainly suffocated any benefit of the doubt you were going to bestow upon him. Jungkook was arrogant and entitled, and in your most recent discovery, presumptuous and judgmental. Everything wrong with this world. No amount of dashing smiles and considerate questions could change that. You had to remember, you hated this man

"How dare you! How- How dare you assume something so rude!" The cloth of your pillowcase had almost worn through from how tight your fists were gripping them. You felt the fire burning through your nerves, soon about to combust and set Cart 102 ablaze. "I hate you."

It was two in the morning, or at least those were the numbers shining from your watch. The window offered the same pitch blackness that frustrated you, so you decided to give your legs some employment from sitting.

The hall of the train was nearly as dark as the outside; the overhead lights once drizzling down a soft glow were turned off. You wandered down the stretch of the medium but the further you walked, the thinner the walkway felt. Soon, the walls on either side of you were pressed against your shoulders so snugly, you had to turn your body to squeeze through.

"Having trouble?" You knew that voice; you hated that familiar inflections and conceit planted in each word he spoke.

"Can't you see I'm trying to walk?" Squinting proved to be obsolete while trying to see whatever destination was in the distance. "Why is everything so dark?"

"Because, you're not trying." If you could turn around, if these walls weren't beginning to smother your body to immobilization, then you would have run over to him and slapped the smile right off of his face. Because you were trying, you were trying to see this whole time but the dark had infested everywhere.

Unfortunately for you, the walls were connecting closer and closer, as if trying to move through you so they could reach each other and close altogether. But where would that leave you? When the gap was stitched shut, where would you be?

The walls were softer than you thought, but still forceful enough to steal all the air from your lungs leaving you a panicked mess lodged between these unkind walls. And the pressure wasn't enough to kill you, but it was just enough to leave you stuck and miserable.

"Jungkook, help me, I can't..."

Day One

Your dream was vivid enough to mislead you into thinking it was real. It wasn't until your eyes fluttered open, and consciousness spilled into your mind like a gentle breeze that you realized the nightmare was over. The window allowed a soft light into Cart 102, making you more thankful for the day than you had ever been in your entire life. You lifted your head from your pillow placed on the seat that you didn't recall placing there, and now that you think of it, you didn't remember falling asleep either.

You especially didn't remember covering yourself with this wool coat that smelled like the air after a bonfire had just finished browning marshmallows and dissolving wood.

"Someone's finally awake." Then it all came back to you. You wondered why everything felt so tranquil. It was a shame you couldn't enjoy the peace before the omen of annoyance, your special nickname for Jungkook, had returned.

"What time is it?" Your eyes were blinking away the sleep, and when that failed, your hands began to rub them until they were able to prop open fully.

"Eight-thirty. Here." He set down a Styrofoam cup of something hot enough for steam to escape through the open space of the lid. It smelled sweeter than coffee.

"What is it?" Your question came after you had already picked it up to furnish your hands with warmth and your nose with the delectable aroma leaking from this cup.

Jungkook’s smile was hidden behind his cup, already half empty, withholding an answer from you because he wanted to see if you would try it before you knew what it was.

"Don't worry, it's not poison." You figured it could be counted as retribution in the form of a nice pick-me-up for all the irritation he'd caused you, not to mention the fact that even in your dreams, he couldn't seem to leave you alone. No, Jungkook's presence was something that would slip through the realm of your sleep, the only place you thought you could escape him.

You sipped slowly, and the drink inside the cup made a quick and favorable acquaintance with your tongue. The contents were something you'd be able to identify separately, but when combined, they were delicious and elusive all at once.

"Wow, this is great!" The smile escaped faster than a spilled cup of water, and before you could clean the messy evidence of your gratitude, Jungkook returned the same smile, but his wasn't a spill; his smiles were never an accident, and you could almost resent him for it.

Almost.

"You like it, huh? Didn't take you to be a fan of sweet things." Both pairs of eyes were taken by the scenery just on the other side of the window decorated with streaks of the fallen dew drops.

His pride was untamed, and you assumed it was because Jungkook never took any action to dilute his own conceit. You liked to imagine how often Jungkook could arm himself with that smile, that laugh, which you were not too blind in your own despise to admit were both conventionally attractive assets of his, and everyone in a ten foot radius would fall into his hands. The world seemed to rest in his hands, and all he had to do was smile.

Not you, though. You were certain you had polished yourself with enough perspective so you wouldn’t be foolish enough to let something as shallow as a charming smile fracture your walls. Though, it was increasingly frustrating, verging on the point of catastrophe, how difficult it was to convince yourself of this and to ignore the image of his smile, sneaking its way to the forefront of your thoughts after brushing it off seconds before.

It was overcast, and the grey from the sky had permeated along the air below, yet it didn't puncture the vibrancy of the ever-extending grassy plains. They seemed to continue on forever, as if you walked out to the horizon it would take an eternity to find the end of the green landscape. The wind acted as music to which each blade of grass had been dancing an instinctive choreography.

And every so often, a patch of flowers would appear, perform its part, then disappear just as quickly.

For a moment, you wondered what Jungkook thought of the small bits of the world this window was displaying. Did he think it was just as beautiful as you did?

"It's honey, cinnamon, and milk. My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid." Though the view was timeless, you finally broke your gaze to look at Jungkook.

It was hard to imagine this man, the harbinger of almost every ounce of anger you have ever felt in your life, as a child who would drink milk with honey and cinnamon made by his mother. But then again Jungkook's face began to change, or at least the way you saw it morphed into something entirely different.

His bright eyes didn't look like they could be from this world. Not when they seemed to hold everything in his line of vision within them so warmly that it could spread magic over everything around him; like a fairy tale, but this magic rested in the two sockets of his eyes. Something so enigmatic made you want to snap at him just so he would look at you instead, and hold you in his eyes. As though to be held by his eyes would fix all your problems.

"Hm." You looked down at the cup, trying to savor each sip however ultimately failing since the honey melted in with the milk and perfectly heightened each flavor.

Without thinking, you wrapped the coffee-colored coat tighter around your body. It was blissful, sipping a cup of delight inside Cart 102, protected from the prickly wind of the winter while still being vended a view of its beauty. This train ride was almost perfect, if not for the (slightly less) bothersome burden that sat across from you.

"Looks good on you." He didn't have to specify he was referring to his jacket that was giving you comfort.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't-"

"Nah, keep it. You looked cold when you were asleep. You were shivering so much it basically sounded like you were begging for my jacket." Jungkook laughed softly.

Maybe two hours ago you would have been brimming with enough rage to rip his jacket off of you and throw it in his face because it sure sounded like he was pitying you or guilting you into a 'thank you' that you were too petty to relinquish. But now, in the morning that tamed you, stomach digesting a tasty drink given by none other than Jungkook, you let it slide.

Just this once, you thought.

"Well, that was very kind of you. And thank you for the drink, but I don't need some stranger doing me any favors."

"Wow, you sure are stubborn!" He laughed again, even though you had been nothing but uninviting of his advances, he just laughed.

"Am not." You muttered.

"Whatever you say." Just this once, you let him have the last word. Just this once.

One emptied cup of Jungkook's special later and you were energized enough to read, and hopefully retain the story rather than flipping mindlessly through the pages while you fueled your attention with rage.

Jungkook was busying himself, putting thought to paper. The quick ticks of his pencil against the wooden table was enough to earn him a passive-aggressive sigh from you, and you hoped he was perceptive enough to get the hint.

The ticks continued, even spaced out to a consistent pace as if he was beating a drum just to anger you. Your annoyance was once again brimming over, ready to spill into another display of it that consisted of a furrowed brow, a scowl, and a slew of incoherent retorts that had been brewing in your mind.

"Can't you write any quieter?" It hadn't measured up to all the clever insults you had loaded into your verbal weaponry, but it did the job to convey your frustration which obviously hadn't been communicated through your previous sigh.

"I'm not writing, actually! I'm trying to figure out the time signature for this piece. Three-six just isn't right." The pencil once tapping out a rhythm was now tucked between his teeth, and you could tell this was a habit of his from the various other tooth-shaped indents along the end of the pencil.

"Whatever, just... do it quietly."

"Quietly? This process is anything but quiet."

"Then try your very hardest."

"I'll try. Emphasis on try."

Though your eyes had reunited with your book, your curiosity pledged allegiance to what Jungkook was writing on his paper. It took an effortful battle between your urges and your restraint to finally ask him.

"What's a time signature?"

"Kind of like a rhythmic guide. For music. I'm a composer, and I'm hoping I can get this fellowship to work with professionals all around the world!" Jungkook's response came almost immediately after your question and his answer consisted of more information than you asked for, which meant this was something he was passionate about. Either that or he just loved talking about himself. It could have easily been both.

However, from the way his eyes held the world, they seemed to hold the music etched onto his paper the tightest. Like, if he were to let go then he would lose any and all purpose to hold on to anything else.

"You make music? Like songs on the radio and stuff?"

"No, not really. Songs for movies. I want to be a film composer."

"Oh. Is that why you're traveling? To study with a professional?" You surprised yourself more than him with that question.

"No... I, um. I wish that was the reason." Before asking him what his reason was, you stopped yourself from letting yet another question slip from your mouth.

Because you were supposed to hate him. Jungkook made everything difficult, even the notion of hating him was made to be a challenge. Asking him questions, learning about him, making the person in front of you turn into something with more dimensions than two was pointless when in a couple days, you'd leave this train and never see him again. Better to go back to hating him.

It wasn't as satisfying as before. Now that you've acquired some knowledge of who he was beyond an obnoxious seat hog and arrogance asshole, the reasons to hate him were beginning to be outweighed by all the other reasons to not hate him.

So far, you learned he was a musician. A passionate up and comer who gives strangers his jacket when they look cold, and shares a drink of milk and honey and cinnamon because it reminds him of his childhood. Someone who has made biting his pencil into a habit when he was working through a thought, who would often stare out windows and saw all the stars you couldn’t; someone who was quick to try to make friends with even the most emotionally withdrawn people.

Shortly after taking more time than planned on recounting all the things you learned about Jungkook, you felt indebted to him since he only knew two things about you.

You were stubborn and you had a sick mom. Or at least, you believed these were the only parts of yourself he picked up on. The rest were things he’d observed with an attentive eye of which you had not noticed had been studying your mannerisms in the same way you studied his.

When you left the cart abruptly after he mentioned the thunderstorm that was somehow delayed for tonight, he was correct to assume it was because you were afraid of the storm. Now, whether it was the thunder or lightning that rattled you so viciously you had to walk off your fear was yet to be discovered. Jungkook was confident he’d figure it out.

Or, how he watched you when you were sleeping in a way he wouldn’t describe as creepy since it was endearing to see you sleep. In fact, he was doing his best to ignore you, but your muffled groans had revealed to him you were the type to have the occasional nightmare. Again, the dream itself was something he was more than interested in discovering.

And your adorably executed performance of passive aggression didn’t evade him in the way you presumed it did. He heard the sigh and understood exactly what you were attempting to accomplish with that, but decided to act like your effort to shut him up wasn’t completely transparent. Mostly because he wanted you to ask him what he was doing.

Jungkook wasn’t ready to admit it yet, but he enjoyed the way you spoke, even if it was drenched in a thick layer of annoyance. For now, he decidedly stuck with finding innocuous ways to fall back into a conversation with you, to slowly but surely learn all that he could in this three-day train ride.

At half-past three, lunch had been served, consumed, and digested. Jungkook’s plate, however, was just short of being completely gone. Everything had been notably ravaged by him except for the pile of walnuts he picked out of his salad at the beginning of the meal.

“Not a fan of walnuts?” You convinced yourself this question came from a place that was starting to feel queasy from the silence that was more intoxicating than the small glass of complimentary wine you downed a little too quickly.

“Allergic. Nothing too serious, though. My throat gets itchy and sometimes I get a rash on my skin.” You made a mental note that Jungkook was allergic to walnuts, which you stored in the part of your brain that harbored knowledge that was completely useless to you yet you still reserved space for it to be memorized.

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, but it did come in handy when I was in class and didn’t want to be. I’d tell the teacher the cafeteria food had walnuts in it and I needed to go home and get my EpiPen before I died.” The list of things you knew about Jungkook continued to lengthen, and you couldn’t specify when it happened, but you began to enjoy every detail that made the list grow.

You wouldn’t have guessed it would take a single day for you to wish it would never stop growing. But then again, you didn’t realize this at the time.

“And that worked? Sounds like you had your luck laid out for you from the beginning.” Jungkook smiled at this, the same bunny-toothed smile from yesterday, but it felt much different to you now, as if you were one smile away from forgetting your once insistent hatred of Jungkook.

“Yeah, I guess so. What about you? What are your allergies?”

“Other than overly friendly weirdos on trains? Nothing.” It was the strangest reaction to feel proud, of all things, when you were rewarded by his laugh. It was softer than the wind rushing against the side of the train, however his laugh outperformed every other sound in the surrounding area until it was all your ears could focus on.

“Then it seems you’re the lucky one. No allergies. Free to eat whatever you want.” His eyes parceled between the sheet music in his hands and you. Though, it was difficult to pull them back down to his work since this was the first time he had your undivided attention that was not born from annoyance or repulsion to whatever he was doing.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m free to eat whatever. I have standards.”

“Really?” It was his not-so-discreet way of trying to capture all the pieces of you that he could, but from your slow intake of air, it seems as though you weren’t entirely finished with talking to him either.

“Cilantro. It’s absolutely disgusting. And mushrooms. I can’t stand mushrooms.”

“I love mushrooms.” Of course, you do, you thought. He didn’t have to say it, but he most likely loved cilantro as well. And you were most definitely right.

“I suppose you love everything I hate?” Eye contact with Jungkook was more than you could handle ever since his mannerisms stopped annoying you and started intimidating you, so you found refuge in the scenery beyond the window. It never failed you during the day, but at night you would have to scavenge for something to stare at when Jungkook’s eyes were close to stealing your breath away.

“I suppose you hate everything I love.”

It took a careful eye to catch the subtle hints of emotion that even you were too distracted to notice. Jungkook’s eye was trained pretty well in observation of the hidden traces of even the most thoroughly subdued emotions. His eyes were so well versed in gathering the scarce evidence of emotions that it prompted him to ask his next question:

“What are you looking for?”

Now, your eyes were still averted by his, so you held on to the slowly fading daylight while you still could. But, sadly, the window was a distraction of sight, not sound, so you heard his question loud and clear and felt obligated to give him an answer. Even if your answer was pathetic.

“Just looking at the grass. It’s pretty.”

“I didn’t ask what you were looking at, I asked what you were looking for.”

Determining what emotion you let slip through the quiver in your lip was a task Jungkook wasn’t well equipped for just yet. In all fairness, he had only known you for a short while and he still felt disappointed in himself for not being able to know what he made you feel with that question.

“I don’t know.” You couldn’t help the stunned tone of your voice, but that was all that could fuel your words at the moment. “I guess… A distraction. It’s so beautiful out there.”

“Everything looks beautiful when you only have a small amount of time to admire it.” Whatever distraction you were looking for had certainly met your eyes and did its job since you had absolutely no clue he was staring right at you when he said that. That he was savoring the small amount of time he had to admire you.

Jungkook was right, which was a habit of his that he took unrestrained pride in; life was beautiful when you moved through it with such little time to spare. Though slamming your hand in a doorway was something you would sooner do than admitting he was right.

The fabric of time moved in a peculiar fashion when inside a train. You move so fast and yet, not at all, and it is as if there is a tear where the train moves through, and evades the grips of each minute that transports the future into the present and the present into the past. It felt this way the moment you stepped onto the train, so when you checked the time, it didn’t surprise you that it was already an hour before midnight.

The daytime had slowly melted away, carefully, the way ice shrunk inside a glass of water until it combined with its surroundings, and the plains of grass could only exist in your memory right now. The blackness of night consumed everything beyond your window once again, though there was the occasional streetlamp that provided a glimpse of everything you couldn’t see as of now.

What you couldn’t see was nowhere near as frightening as what you were about to hear.

The first flash of lightning felt like a warning. It took a few seconds for the wretched boom of thunder to follow, which was the interval of time you foolishly hoped it would, just this once, fail to accompany that streak of light. That perhaps this train moved quick enough to outrun the storm.

“___? Are you okay?”

You didn’t notice your hands had immediately cupped your ears until Jungkook’s voice was filtered through as a jumble of indiscernible noises.

“Sorry, I just…” Steadying your breath was a toll that required an upfront payment of all your attention, so your previously muted voice and steady tone had gone out of the metaphorical window, along with the rest of your response.

“So it’s the thunder.” Jungkook said softly to himself. It didn’t matter since your hands were being utilized as makeshift earplugs. They seemed to deflect every sound except for the thunder that punctured through your barrier effortlessly.

Before, Jungkook had this preconception of you. From the minute he stepped into Cart 102, he could tell you were the type to carry yourself steadily, the type that supplied their own assurance and isolated their emotions in the same way you isolated yourself. But here you were, hands clamped against your ears, eyes pressed shut and body shaking; this was a surplus of emotions you let seep through your walls. It was expressive enough for any dimwitted onlooker to know exactly what you were feeling: pure fear.

And Jungkook had always been adept to telltale signs of what was buried beneath the obvious emotions. He could tell you wanted to be distracted. You needed help.

It was easier to stifle one sense if you stifled them all at once. If you didn’t want to see, you had to plug your ears and hold your breath. And in this case, to block out the sound, you had to shut your eyes and numb the rest of your body in the slim chance that the thunder wouldn’t penetrate through your poorly constructed firewall.

Suddenly, you felt the space beside you sink lower which meant Jungkook had taken the liberty of invading your space at the worst possible time. It was difficult to focus on blocking out the sound when you could feel the side of his shoulder bump lightly against yours.

“___.” You shifted towards him slowly, waiting for his explanation of why he was on your side of the cart. “Can I touch you?”

You were past your wit's end, spending the last bits of your sanity trying to calm yourself from the second crash of thunder that made your body lift from the seat for a solid two seconds. All you could do was nod, and hope he wasn’t a serial killer that was about to strangle you to death in a moment of vulnerability.

He was working in your favor, just like when he wrapped you up in his coat and set that cup of milk in front of you, he moved in determination to comfort you. And if it weren’t for the dire circumstances, your pride would have refused the security of his arms that were carefully enveloping your body and eliminating the frigid space around you. You hadn’t realized how cold this train was until you were invited into Jungkook’s warmth. He had somehow silenced the storm, and all you had to do was let him.

The third blast of thunder pushed you deeper in his embrace, and you wrapped your arms around him tightly like the lifejacket he was that kept you from slipping below the surface of the angry ocean currents.

“If you couldn’t tell I-” Boom, “I hate thunder.” Your voice came out strained through the fear-induced filter lodged in your throat.

“No, actually, I couldn’t tell at all.” Nine out of ten of your thoughts were concentrated on the thunder, and that one exception was applied towards how annoyingly sarcastic Jungkook managed to be through thick and thin. It was impressive enough that he could subtract the fear even by a small fraction for you to laugh.

“You’re so-” Boom, “You’re insufferable.”

His laugh was noticed through the gentle bounce of his chest that rocked your head more than the actual sound of it. Soon, a hand came to run through your hair and with each stroke, he somehow removed your terror layer by layer until you were afforded with indifference to the storm simply because you were lulled into a half-sleep and were now too exhausted to care about the thunder.

“You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re doing great. Breathe deep.” His chest smelled the same as his coat. A fire burning so brightly, sending the aromas of everything it consumed into the air.

Now your attention belonged to the warmth of his arms, and how he moved his hand through your hair with something deeper than kindness. It was selflessness because he too was scared and tired and in need of rest. Despite this, he used the last of his energy to ward off the threat of a second panic attack.

“Thank you.” You whispered into his chest, and it seemed as though it permeated through his flesh and ribs and absorbed straight into his heart from the way he held you even tighter.

The storm had settled, and the horrors of loud thunder were abandoned for quite some time now, but it felt too comfortable, too perfect for you to be anywhere else but here in his arms. So, what went unsaid was more than enough for him to retract any intention to return to his seat and instead hold you against his chest, where his heart would retain strength from being close to you.

You couldn’t tell if you had already slipped into a dream when you heard him singing softly, or if the melody of Dream a Little Dream of Me was actually being crafted by his voice so beautifully and fell into perfect synchronization with the rhythmic beat of his heart. Either way, you were thankful to bear witness to a sound that reduced the idea of thunder down to something that could never hurt you again, and instead made seeing all the stars the heavens could offer possible even through the darkest nights. You felt a well of tears moisten your cheeks.

In his arms, with his voice, you could see the stars.

Back in the dimmed hallway of the train, you could make out the outline of a figure standing in the distance, waiting for you. Waiting, but about to run out of time. You saw her slowly disappear the way wind would rustle the dying leaves off a tree in autumn. Slowly her body was wilting, disappearing, and the wind only picked up speed.

All you could think to do was run to her, your mother, the shell of a woman you had known and loved your whole life. Her frail body being stripped of flesh as easily as wind undresses a tree of its leaves until there is nothing but branch and bone.

The walls began to close again, and you knew you had to act faster. You had to push past the pressure of closing walls even if they were squeezing so tightly movement became impossible. All at once, the impossible became your burden to redesign into something possible, which was the only thing crushing your spirit more than these damn walls.

You were so close; you held your hand out and—

Day Two

Winter mornings always start the same. Your eyes began rediscovering sight before the rest of your senses flooded into function, then your stomach would get angry for digesting nothing but its own acid until you filled it. And just like yesterday, your pillow cushioned beneath your head on the seat and your body shielded from the rogue winter winds that snuck inside of your cart by the same bonfire scented coat.

“Rise and shine.” Jungkook said from behind the sheet music he was examining. He must have been stealing glances of you every five minutes or so to catch the moment you’d finally wake up.

“Time?” Part of you didn’t want to get up. Part of you, the more persuasive part, wanted to remain tucked under Jungkook’s coat and slip back into a light sleep. If it weren’t for the hot drink waiting for you on the table then you would have done just that.

“Nine. A little later than yesterday.” You sat up eventually, wrapping the coat around you, and for a moment life was comfortable on the train. So much so that you didn’t mind how your hair was in complete disarray.

Jungkook enjoyed seeing you this way. When you had first woken up and didn’t wear the usual veil of detachment from the rest of the world. Your guard had surrendered to your sleep ridden body. He guessed very few people saw you like this, natural and raw and untouched by the pressure to be presentable, and counted himself lucky, just like you would say, to be one of those few.

“Thanks, again.” You said softly into the warm cup between sips. “How much?”

“No. It's okay.”

“But-”

“Seriously! Don’t mention it.” He was firm, but that didn’t stop the gentle smile that crept its way back onto his face. You didn’t know what to say other than the thanks you had already said, so you just kept drinking. It was still just as delicious, but today familiarity was peppered into the milk among the honey and cinnamon which gave it that much more reason to love it.

“You get up this early every day?” You asked, because you were at a loss for words but felt less comfortable without hearing his voice to accompany the brisk, quiet morning.

“Usually I do. I like the morning. It feels like I have the world to myself before everyone else wakes up.” Charming. It was the last thing that came to mind when you would picture Jungkook. Now, however, it seemed to be the only characteristic that came to mind when you thought of him.

Sitting in front of you, half mindedly scribbling notes onto the staff and half his attention expended on sharing the small ways he saw the world, he was just charming. As easily as he once drove a blunt edge of annoyance into your chest, he erased every bit of evidence that he could ever be anything but charming.

“Sorry to steal the morning from you. I gotta wake up sometime.” You felt entirely unpracticed in the realm of light, friendly conversations, and that was evident from the way you wanted to gag at your own response to his. What you thought was a tasteless, almost pathetic attempt at banter was, to Jungkook, another reason to enjoy the morning.

“I’m glad it’s you that I have to share it with.” Jungkook certainly sat higher on the hierarchical scale of wit compared to you, but even that didn’t agitate you in the way it would have before. What was more shocking than that was the fact that you felt the muscles in your cheeks changing your flat lipped expression into a smile.

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Jungkook.” You responded that way only to save face. It was a habit of yours you didn’t realize you were doing until the words had already been deployed by your tongue.

“It seems to have gotten me a smile from you. Those are hard to come by.” You jerked your head quickly over to him, the same grin stained with smugness there to meet your surprised ‘o’ shaped mouth.

He was right again. Your smiles have always been punctuated lately, but you were too busy paddling through every distraction available to even notice.

“Very funny.” Your voice was low enough for Jungkook to nearly miss it. Once the soft tone of your voice delivered to his ears, he looked away from his sheet music to mine through your face like a cavern, searching for the hidden bits of the treasure-like emotions strewn in along the subtle details.

“What’s wrong?” It was a leap of faith, his question, a leap that sent him plummeting blindly into the depths of everything he craved to know about you.

“That thing you said the other day.” Your expression was unreadable to the whole world. But inside the train, the whole world rested just on the other side of the window. There was no reason to come off as impassive, cold, or unconcerned, to care so much about trying not to care. “About going home.”

“Mhm?” You waited to see if he had anything to say, anything to stall what was about to escape from your lips. You knew it wouldn’t take long for your thoughts to go rogue, especially when he made you smile like that.

“I’m angry.” He gave you a look that said ‘no shit’ without having to actually say it. It made you nervous, but still willing to go on. “You're right. I didn’t visit home ever until now. I thought I grew out of it. I thought I became someone too big to fit in a town so small and stuck in its way. But I was never too big, I don’t think I ever actually grew. Because when I got the call, after stupidly ignoring it a hundred times before, I felt like the same child. So scared of the idea of a world without their mother. So, yeah, I’m angry. I’m angry I could be arrogant and stupid enough to think I could live the rest of my life never looking back.”

Jungkook just watched you, with those eyes that held the world. His eyes were holding so much right now when they were looking at you. So much weight from a source he couldn’t define with his own intuition. So much weight, he couldn’t understand how you had been shouldering it on your own this whole time, if he couldn’t stand a few minutes holding it now.

“Going back home.” You scoffed. “It's not about looking back. It was never about that. I think returning to something familiar is almost just as scary as fleeing somewhere new. All your past mistakes and demons that you have to face…”

“Demons. Is that any way to talk about your mother?” It was his way, unique to Jungkook alone, to litter in a bit of lighthearted teasing even when he was supposed to be serious. As if he couldn’t stand to let the air in Cart 102 become too damp with sadness, as if his heart wouldn’t have been able to handle it.

“I made a mistake. I spent too much time away, and now the last way I’ll see her is weak and sick. That’s my demon. My mom was just unfortunate enough to be the arbiter of it.”

Jungkook wanted to tell you that if he could, he would take all your pain away and send it back into the universe to find someone else to harbor it. Someone who deserved to feel a loss so heavy, because he knew just by looking at you that you deserved none of it. But he held his overly romantic tongue for now in regards to easing you into him smoothly. Since he had come such a long way with you, making gentle strides to win your affection, it would be greedy of him to tarnish that by saying something as outrageous as that, even if that was truly how he felt.

“Come with me. I have an idea.” It would have been easy to refuse him, to swat his hand away and never speak to him again for the rest of the train ride. But what prevails after the wear and tear of expecting the worst and knowing the painful and permanent scars it will leave you is the trust of someone who turned scowls into smiles, who held his hand out to you and waited for you to take it kindly.

Those tales they tell about feeling sparks when you make contact with your soulmate were decidedly wrong. Wrong to you, because when you touched Jungkook’s hand, you felt those sparks nestling under your skin and learning its way through the rest of your body. Wrong, because Jungkook was no soulmate of yours, just an unlikely stranger you met on a train once.

And yet, you couldn’t help but wonder, you couldn’t help but hope he too felt these sparks that supposedly meant nothing.

Jungkook pulled you into the hallway, which was brighter than the way it looked in your dreams. At the end of the walkway, there was no ghost resembling your mother, and the walls weren’t closing in, and instead of pushing through alone, you had Jungkook holding your hand tightly, and graciously guiding you down.

“This way.” He whispered, and you mimicked the stealth in his voice through the way you muffled the sound of your feet hitting the train floor, which felt less like water and more like sand with him; soft yet solid sand.

You arrived at an unattended area of the train. The only hint of what Jungkook was up to was that grin. That grin was too playful to be a grimace, and too mischievous to be a smile. That grin that you hadn’t noticed you were looking forward to seeing, the same one you could sense you would miss when the train arrived at its destination. That when he grinned, you finally found the courage to return it. Needing no conditions or second guesses, you were just you, somehow smiling on the train that was taking you to your sick mother. And it was all because of him and his stupid, lovely grin.

“What are you doing? Are we supposed to even be here?”

“Shh, we’ll get caught.” He began to wriggle with the door handle until it opened.

“So we’re not supposed to be here! Jungkook, let’s go before we get kicked off!” To silence you, he simply held his hand up. You pouted your lip but did as he commanded.

Inside the door, there was a collection of all the food meant for purchasing. Your assumption was confirmed that Jungkook had no intention of paying for the bags of pretzels and packets of cookies he was stuffing into his pockets. Hands full with quite the assortment of foods, he looked to you and raised his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Come on, put these in your pockets! Hurry.” He held the food out towards you. There was no convincing him to put all the stolen goods back, and there was no convincing yourself to not go along with his sinfully sweet plan.

The fast-paced walk back to Cart 102 was the most exhilarating thirty-five seconds of your life. Jungkook looked all too calm, like spontaneity fell into his hands naturally or like it was a birthright, belonging to his life from the beginning. Life with Jungkook, even if the short span of time he’d claimed part of yours was fleeting, was the most excited and fearless you had ever felt.

Jungkook and you emptied the haul of food onto the table. For a second, they went untouched only for the two of you to admire your successfully pirated goods. Then, for the first time on the train you met eyes with Jungkook and laughed.

It was the sort of laugh that exercised muscles in your abdomen you weren’t aware that you had in the first place. The kind that began at the top of a hill, and with one push it was tumbling faster and faster, growing louder and wilder.

Jungkook was laughing too, a sound which could qualify as the only competitor to surpass the beauty of his singing. And whatever music he was scribing onto the paper would have to be beyond masterful to sound anything close to as immaculate as his laugh.

“I can’t believe we just committed grand larceny.” The words came out of your throat between fits of laughter, eyes now with an abundance of happy tears.

“Woah there, “‘grand”’ is a stretch. I like to think of it as unlawful borrowing.” The rest of the afternoon was spent with celebratory feasting of your unlawfully borrowed goods. Your favorite was the packs of chocolate mints, and Jungkook had cleverly avoided eating them when he noticed how much you liked them.

When dawn arrived, Cart 102 settled into a comfortable silence, now consisting of you reading your book tempered by a glance out of the window every few pages and Jungkook tapping his pencil against the wooden desk while marking up every blank space on his page. To anyone else, including the likes of you, the page was nothing but a jumble of incoherent scribbles. To Jungkook, it was his next masterpiece; the best idea he made tangible on paper and hopefully soon, audible when someone agreed to commission it.

“Done!”

His remark startled you, being that there had been no warrant for him to exclaim his progress with the music he was working on. You chuckled softly, closing your book and looking back to Jungkook.

“Done with what?”

“This song. I know this one will sell. I just know it! It’s perfect.” Jungkook’s passion was bursting past the seams of his body. “I just wish… I wish I had more time.”

“What does that mean?” Again, all he offered was the same grin, and that was all you needed in order to know he wouldn’t be dropping any more hints on the account of your curiosity.

“It means this train ride is ending tomorrow, and I’ll have too much on my plate to work on anything else. So this right here,” He held up the paper with the same tact one would for a pile of pure gold, “Is my last chance to get my work out there for a while.”

For reasons born from an unidentifiable place, you felt like crying. Last chance. It sounded serious. Something you weren’t ready to know and something he wasn't ready to tell. So, instead of pestering the answer out of him, you let him have his secrets. You let him have all the secrets he had somehow gotten out of you.

And somehow, you were okay with it. Just this once.

Jungkook said he was taking a quick nap. Quick must mean something entirely different where he was from since it lasted about three hours and counting. For someone who had nothing to do but sit on a train all day, he sure was tired. It would have concerned you had it not been for witnessing how much energy he exerted into writing his music, as if each tap of his pencil required the same amount of energy as running an entire mile.

You were looking out of the window, which looked like it had been coated with tar. The departing sun left no remnants of its light and the moon must have been situated on the opposite side of the train, so it was up to the stars to illuminate your view of the world. But, outside the train was dark. Dark, and almost pitch black.

The first few specks were thought to be a hallucination that bloomed from your own wishful thinking. But soon, there were more and more twinkling lights dusting the sky and that outshined any doubt you had before. The stars were so bright and glimmering clearer than you had ever seen. Only something so beautiful, something that ingrained itself into the grooves of your brain to keep forever, could elicit the gasp that came louder than expected.

“Woah.” It jolted Jungkook awake and you would have felt bad if he weren’t already supplied with three and a half hours of extra sleep.

“What?” His voice was hoarse from being unused for such a long interval.

“The stars! I can see them! They’re so bright, Jungkook. So bright.” The tears began to form in part from the lack of blinking and in part from how happy you were to see the stars. The same stars your mother was probably looking at and the same ceiling of glitter that loomed protectively over you and Jungkook. They were more than just constellations tonight; they were a celestial map navigating you back home and an astronomical assurance that everything would be okay. Even if the worst happened, everything would be okay.

“They are. They’ve been bright for a while. It took you long enough to notice.” Your smile was not yours to control anymore. It was a small price to pay considering you had a world full of stars to last you a lifetime.

“I guess I haven’t been trying as hard to see them as I thought I was.”

And you turned to him, which was the only thing besides the starlit arena above you and Jungkook and the train you’d rather be looking at right now.

“I can’t wait to go home. I miss it so much.” It was the first time you said it out loud, as well as the first time you were able to admit that to yourself.

“I’m glad you feel that way. You should feel that way.”

“Thank you.”

There were a plethora of reasons that prompted that thank you. Far too many reasons that were decidedly unfit for just a single thank you. So, you concluded that the thank you was for Jungkook; for becoming a part of your life. For every decision he made on this train that rearranged your feelings towards him into something pleasant. Something that felt warm and safe.

Tonight, the last thing you saw before slipping away into sleep was all the stars that weren't at your disposal before. Every silvery diamond brandished along the expanding sky was so mesmerizing, you wished you could imprint them into the backs of your eyelids when they eventually lulled you into a calm slumber. That and the memory of Jungkook’s rendition of Dream a Little Dream of Me set on repeat in your head.

This time, you weren't trapped in the confines of a dark train hallway. You were standing in the middle of a grassy field, laden with a diverse collection of wildflowers. The mellow green hues seemed to lift from the blades of grass, stretching into the air around you.

And your mother was there. She wasn’t being blown away by the wind. Just like the sturdy trunk of a tree, she stood with dignity and conviction at the top of the highest hill that provided a view of your hometown; it was the most beautiful you had ever seen her.

“Mom!” The way you were running felt more like gliding, or flying even, because you moved through the wind without a bit of resistance. Your body was frictionless and unstoppable. And when you finally fell into your mother’s arms, it was the most freeing feeling in the world.

“I’ve missed you so much. I thought you were going to leave me.” The blue sky that sealed you and your mom into the earth made a stunning partner for the fields of green underneath you.

“I’m always with you, darling.”

It was difficult to decide whether the sound of her voice or the sentiment behind it made you cry, so you decided not to decide at all, and instead, you simply let yourself cry. Everything was so beautiful, but still not complete.

“Mom, I feel like something’s missing.”

“There is.” She responded, but it wasn’t a question. Your mom was not your mom, just a figment herself cultivated by your own mind. She was one with you, and she knew exactly what was missing.

“Where do I find it?” Her hands cupped your cheeks, just like she would when you were young and crying over a scraped knee.

“You know, love. You know.”

The wind pulled a gentle melody from the spaces between the leaves. A melody you were quite familiar with and grew to love. It slowed, then everything was silent.

Day Three

Waking up came to you in a hurry, as if you shouldn’t spend another second living life through dreams because today was the last day on the train. The last day you’d spend with Jungkook, and possibly the last time you would ever see him.

It was uncharacteristic of you to feel this way. Disappointed at both yourself and your situation. You knew from the beginning that this was a temporary arrangement, and Jungkook was not a permanent fixture in your life. In fact, you used to be thankful for those circumstances because you hated Jungkook.

But, of course, you went ahead and let him in. You let him buy you tasty drinks, hold you during thunderstorms, and offer you a coat, a smile, a laugh when everything felt cold. You let him ripple currents of fun into your life, but that would be giving yourself too much credit, you suppose.

Because it was never a matter of allowing him to do any of this. He did all of those things, and more, all by himself.

What was even more uncharacteristic of you was greeting the early morning before Jungkook. He was sound asleep, with skin being lightly freckled by the glints of sunlight shimmering through the gaps in the clouds. The morning sun was always docile, kindly shedding light in a way that wouldn’t pull sweat from your skin like it did in the afternoon.

You liked the sight of him sleeping, mostly because it was one of the few moments of the day when he was completely silent, and those were rare.

“Better take this opportunity.” You whispered to yourself before getting up, covering Jungkook with the coat, and heading to the concession stand you had raided with Jungkook yesterday.

Wondering if the workers noticed the missing inventory, you idled by the counter before ordering but they all looked too tired to care to serve you let alone realize a quarter of the chocolate mint packs were taken.

“Hi, two warm milks with honey and cinnamon please.” The attendant seemed to appreciate how closely your voice was to a whisper. He sluggishly poured two steaming cups of milk and sleeved them before exchanging them for the money already placed onto the counter.

“Honey and cinnamon are over at the self-serving station.” You followed to where his finger was aimed towards and nodded politely with the two cups in each hand.

You didn’t know why, but imagining Jungkook making this drink himself, instead of ordering it premade, ranked this act as something more motivated than customary kindness. Because getting these drinks wasn’t simply walking to a stand, purchasing, and walking back to Cart 102. There was now an erroneous step you hadn’t accounted for. The act of making milk with honey and cinnamon.

As you scooped a spoonful of honey to mix into the creamy liquid, one of your mother’s many proverbs rang in your ears, as if she was standing right beside you saying it.

“When you make food for someone, it’s just another way to express that you love them!”

It froze you for a second. Recalling what she would say when you would throw together a meal for the pair of you when she was too tired to. She worked so hard as a single mother, so every shortcoming felt like a colossal failure, no matter how little it mattered to you. And she would always say that to you because ‘thank you’ just didn’t cut it.

This was the first thing you made for someone other than your mother and yourself. But, there’s no way it was because you loved him.

Just this once, you thought. Just this once I’ll make food for someone that I don’t love.

You were relieved to greet a still sleeping Jungkook when you returned to your cart. The cart you studied closer, because you were about to leave it and wanted to retain all the details that you could before it became a memory you would only visit when you were feeling reminiscent.

The beige walls, the small table where you would read and Jungkook would compose, the stiff leather seats that you had surprisingly gotten used to, and the large window that gave you a glimpse of the blurry world waiting for you.

Jungkook’s groan snapped you out of your trance. Before he regained full cognizance, you placed the cup in front of him so you’d be able to boast that you had woken up before him and had the morning all to yourself for a moment. That now you were the one sharing the world with him.

“What’s this?” He said groggily.

“You know.” You tried your best to mirror his smugness, the way he would sip his drink after sending a witty one-liner through the air like it was no big deal to him.

Before you became lost in the person you changed into with Jungkook, a person that felt more like a fun costume to wear when you didn’t feel like being yourself anymore, the more neurotic and controlling part of you fell back through when you remembered that the measurements of the ingredients might have been off.

Maybe you had gotten the drink entirely wrong, so your deed would shrivel down to a failed act of kindness. Nothing at all your mother would consider a gesture of love. And that was more frightening than any blast of thunder.

“It's delicious.” Jungkook said out of nowhere, almost as though he knew he was interrupting your thoughts. Breaking them down into a powder thinner than flour, so he could blow all your worries away with one puff of air. He wasn’t lying either, it was delicious.

You spent a gracious amount of time and energy avoiding the book you were meant to finish during this train ride. Instead, your efforts were fully consumed by the last person you thought would ever be the center of your attention. At least, you thought if he were going to be the focus of it, then it would have been because you were mentally berating him for reasons that didn’t bother you much at all anymore; in fact, they started becoming admirable.

“If you could run faster than a train, where would you go?” He asked.

“Paris. Or Italy. I'd just have to figure out how to run on water.” You earned a good laugh from Jungkook with that comment. And finally, you felt like you were beginning to find your niche in conversations, and it relied heavily on sarcasm.

“I’d love to see the day when ___ walks on water.”

“What about you? Where would you go?”

“I would make my legs take me straight to Carnegie Hall and force the organization to play one of my pieces.” Each word was formed by his tongue as if he had that response rehearsed a hundred times over. Jungkook knew exactly what he wanted, and given the chance, he would use any and every asset to get him there.

That alone was why you fell into something deeper than attraction. Why you began to take notice of things about him that weren’t of importance before. And why your intentions to observe how the world designed this man to be so stunningly unique was less cryptic than you’d hoped.

Maybe if you noticed how his white button-up was undone down to his sternum and tucked into the waistband of his slacks tastefully, then your heart would have taken a quicker pace long before now. If you noticed how his jet black hair was gentle and fluffy when it draped over his eyes, then you would have been frustrated with yourself sooner for not seizing the chance to introduce your fingers to its texture. And if you noticed how the ridges along his palm looked perfect to be held in, then you would have savored every second he held you the night of the storm. There was an astonishing number of details about Jungkook, about as many as the stars in the sky, that would have made you mountains more intimidated to even speak with him.

One of the attendants left all your observations of Jungkook scattered when she peaked her head through to give the two of you an update on your arrival.

“Looks like we’ll be getting in earlier than expected!” In theory, that was a blessing. You’d get to finally deboard the train and be with your mother. Though, you’d be lying if some piece of you wanted this train to continue west until there was no more land to travel on; and if you could, you would redistribute each part of this train to assemble a boat, so you could sail Jungkook across the seven seas. “Our arrival will be in twenty minutes! I hope you both enjoyed your trip.”

And if Jungkook felt the same way, he didn’t show it through his polite smile and nod at the attendant.

“We’ll be getting off soon.” He said to you, though you could tell it was his way of interrogating your thoughts on the matter.

“Time moved by so oddly on the train. I didn’t even notice it was already day three.” You paused and took one last glance out of the window. “Funny.”

"It's funny,” He began, and you settled into what you knew was about to be another piece of Jungkook's mind served in the form of his delicate words, “when you're inside a train you don't feel like you're moving. Even though you are, of course. You're moving faster than you would outside of a train. But we feel like we are still because we are moving with the train. When you're in a train, you are moving with time too, so it feels rushed and stagnant all at once. When you're not inside, time moves past you. It feels better to move with time, don’t you think? It feels like you could outrun it if you wanted to, or it feels like you will never run out of time at all. That you and time are equals. But soon, we'll have to get back onto the platform, and time will move past us again, and it’ll feel like we’re running out already."

“You’re right.” You finally admitted. “We’re running out of time.”

We’re running out of time— together, you wanted to say. However, courage and boldness was a currency you weren’t rich in. Unspoken desires and lost hopes were all you had left to tender.

“Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I-” He hesitated as well, because when you looked at him with such wishful eyes, it made what he had to say entirely too real and all too scary. “I really liked being your travel buddy.”

You could tell he was holding back too. That everything you wanted to say to him and everything he wanted to say to you wasn’t meant to be translated into words, that exchanging sentimental smiles was all you and he could afford. Instead, it was better to exist through the language of emotions, floating around the train, moving with time, and eventually, when you and Jungkook returned to the world, those emotions would remain with the train and travel beyond your destination.

That’s why you let them go. Sometimes, a train is only meant to be a train.

“Me too. Though, I have to admit I hated you at first.”

“I know.” He grinned as you etched the most accurate memory of it in your brain as you could.

His stance came unprecedented. The small radio tucked in his bag now sitting on the table, serenading an unfamiliar melody and overtaking the silent air inside Cart 102. Then, came his hand, extended to you just like he had yesterday. Only this time, you didn’t need to wonder what he wanted from you because you would give whatever he asked.

You took his hand, or rather you gave him yours, and followed his gentle tug until it led you to his body, pressing away all the space once separating the two of you. Jungkook’s hand followed the curve of your waist until it landed at the small of your back while you instinctively rested yours on his shoulder.

You and Jungkook swayed to the music until all those words about moving with time became real. The way he held you close had you immune to the passage of time. The soft brush of his breath against your cheek felt welcoming, and you would try your very best to remember the way existing felt when your skin was touching his. It was odd, dancing on a train with someone you didn’t know well enough to call a friend but weren’t estranged enough to call an acquaintance. Again, it felt like you were in between two walls, stuck, trying to out-think your way through a collapsing maze of judgement.

Though, no matter how odd it was, it stopped neither you nor Jungkook from holding onto each other for the last few moments available.

The train must have hit a rock, one you would like to thank because it knocked the two of you over until you had fallen into his lap, laughing so hard your bodies shook. You would have been uncomfortable in this compromising position if not for the sense of belonging fostered in the empty space in your chest while being in his arms.

Jungkook didn’t notice you were detangling your limbs from his until you were already gone, seated across from him in the same spot.

Once, he learned in science class of this phenomenon called ‘afterimage’, which is when your eyes get so accustomed to staring at one particular thing that when you look away, the thing stained your vision in the form of a silhouette, like an echo of something your eyes grew so comfortable seeing that it stayed with you, even when you looked away.

And he knew, even when the view of you sitting across from him in this train wasn’t there anymore, he would carry that afterimage of you, always echoing in his vision like a beautiful melody he couldn’t get out of his head. Not that he wanted to let go anyway

It was sour, the cruelty of letting go. When the train began to brake, it felt like a lifetime of agony. A bitter, unforgiving slap in the face courtesy of the confines of reality, stealing you away from the shelter of a train; a place that made it so easy to be swept up in something as dazzling and impossible as magic. You were onto important things, you knew this, but it was nice to live, even if it were just for a bit, inside something as magical as Cart 102, where you could count on a generous supply of warm coats, milk with honey and cinnamon, and Jungkook.

“Well, our stop is here. Hey, how about we share a cab? Why not save some money, right?” You could only nod, because speaking would have led to tears, which would have led to a failed explanation of why you were crying.

Jungkook hailed the yellow vehicle over, the opening of his shirt widened just an inch too much to let your mind wander.

“You’re going to the hospital, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, the only one in town.” You said, knowing the driver wouldn’t need any more specifics than that. This town was so small there were a lot of singular facilities that made the layout equally difficult to be crammed into and easy to memorize. One library, one park, one church, and one hospital.

As Jungkook went to give the driver your destinations, you packed up the luggage into the trunk. Not too long after, you were side by side in the back of a cab. All you could bring yourself to do was gaze out of the window and watch all the familiar scenes of your hometown pass by, each landmark dousing you with a strong presence of nostalgia.

No matter how sad parting ways with Jungkook was, it was good to be home.

The cab finally arrived at the hospital, and you got out not expecting the other person in the car to get out with you. Perhaps he was being polite and saying goodbye. You knew you would have done the same if his stop preceded yours.

The two of you stood in front of the entrance, gawking up at the tall building that was in desperate need of reconstruction. You turned your gaze over to Jungkook.

“Where to now, Mr. Jeon?” You asked, since this town was small enough, and you were fluent in every secret hiding spot it had to offer, you might be able to visit him if that wouldn’t come off as too invasive.

“I'm here.” He responded just as ambiguously and ever so matter-of-factly as always. This time, you demanded to know more.

“What? What do you mean?”

“It took a long time to find a doctor that specializes in my condition.” Jungkook finally turned to you, his eyes crowded by tears. “My heart is weak, ___. I came here to get better, and hopefully, I do. I'm going to be a famous composer one day, and I’ll need a strong heart to get me to that point.”

You felt angry at him again. For not telling you, because it felt less like keeping something from you and more like lying to you. For telling you, and making it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, that it wouldn’t break your heart into pieces weaker than his own.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was the harsh snap he expected from you, but he was committed to keeping this a secret until he couldn’t because it was easier that way.

“I didn’t want to admit it. I’m scared, ___. Really scared. If I don't get better…”

“Well, you have to! Carnegie Hall is waiting for you and I didn’t waste my time getting to know you for nothing. So, you just go ahead and get better okay?” Your words were coated in anger but layered on top of something compassionate, sweet even. Sweeter than milk, honey, and cinnamon.

“I’ll try.” He grinned again, knowing it would satisfy you for the time being. Grinning, like a goodbye gift.

“You’re an idiot, Jungkook.”

Before you could lose the last word, you gripped your luggage in one hand, the pillow in the other, and made your way into the hospital, leading to what you knew would be countless nights spent at the side of a hospital bed, eating foods you’d rather not eat, and watching daytime cable while taking care of your mother.

What you didn’t know was that a good portion of those nights would be spent with someone else. Someone who resided in the west wing of the hospital.

Someone who would bring your hand to his heart, and ask you if it felt stronger, and you would always reply with ‘yes’, or ‘yes, you idiot’, even when you were terrified that one day your hand wouldn’t feel the tap of his heart against his chest. Someone who would sing to you in exchange for the times you would read to him. Someone who you would leave notes and small gifts for, his personal favorite being the packet of walnuts accompanied with a folded paper inscribed ‘for when you need to get out of class’. Someone who, when he would be having a particularly difficult night, you’d fall asleep holding hands with, and you’d wake him up with a warm cup of his signature beverage.

Someone you would inevitably begin to fall in love with.

A month later, one of two people you loved dearly would walk out with you through those hospital doors. That person was Jungkook. And the melancholy of losing your mother to the battle between her and her cancer would also follow you, and stay with you almost as long as Jungkook had.

A year later, you would return, hand in hand with Jungkook. Every two months. It was the promise you sealed onto your mother's gravestone that you would always return every two months. Even if the weather dispatched the most terrifying thunderstorms, or your work piled a stack of paperwork high enough to reach the sky, you’d still return home.

You and Jungkook placed a bundle of wildflowers you picked on the way to her grave, sitting at the top of a grassy highland, at the base of the granite stone. She was overlooking the world, with a perfect view of you; it made you feel safe that she was watching over you, and she was watching over Jungkook and his slowly recovering heart.

The weather was perfect. The sun blanketed everything beneath it with a generous warmth but didn't restrict the gentle breeze from tempering it. The leaves and grass moved with the wind, but your mother’s tombstone was strong and unmoving, losing no part of herself to the fluid motions of the spring air.

“I kind of like it here.” He said softly, adorning the view of the hilltop with you. It was the morning, and it didn’t feel like he was sharing the world with you anymore. It felt like it was yours to begin with, and he was just lucky enough to be allowed a part of it.

“Me too.” One hand was with Jungkook, and the other was with your mother.

“I think it would be a nice place to get married and raise our children. You know, after I become a world-renowned composer and all.” This would have shocked you if you had not been wishing to hear him confirm these dreams of yours for a while now. “Did that scare you? I didn’t mean to be too forward.”

“No, I think this would be the perfect place to live. Only if it's with you.” Because you knew, something was missing here without him. He made this hometown of yours finally complete in the wake of your mother’s passing.

When you kissed him, he tasted like honey. And he would have told you that you tasted like cinnamon.

It could never scare you, because you were in love.

You were in a debt of gratitude that was deeper than the ocean. There was so much you wanted to say to him.

The town is milk. It is up to you and me, Jungkook, to provide the ingredients that will liven this town of milk into something sweeter, something survivable, something that will continue to sustain a force as powerful as love. Without the honey and cinnamon, all you have is milk. It seems we are the perfect blend of the two to make this bitter place palatable when it hits our tongues. This town needs us together in the same way milk needs honey and cinnamon.

You didn’t say any of those words out loud. You didn’t need to. All you needed to say was:

“I love you.”

And all he needed to say was:

“I love you too.”

#bangtanarmynet #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts one shot #bts writing #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook one shot #jungkook fluff #bts enemies to lovers #musician!jungkook #of honey and cinnamon #rubycoast

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floralseokjin · 3 years

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

Seokjin tells his therapist he might have a little crush on you

kim seokjin x reader warnings; this drabble takes place during a therapy session but it entails a light hearted conversation words; 1,773 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

“It definitely seems like a crush, Seokjin,” Mrs. Shin nodded, the slightest of smiles lifting her lips as she looked across at him, her glasses perched a little way down the bridge of her nose. She was teasing him. He knew her well enough by now. He’d been having a session a week for the past three years.

Admittedly at first he’d been sceptical. It was policy at the company. With such a stressful and demanding position he needed to have someone on hand to talk to regularly, just in case it all became too much, so he was unable to turn it down even if he had wanted to at first. He’d never been one for talking about his feelings, choosing to deal with them himself. He wasn’t a fan of sharing, not wanting to be a burden or risk unloading his troubles onto someone who didn’t really want to hear it but didn’t have the heart to tell him. He was still like that now in ways, but he figured this was Mrs. Shin’s – Chaewon’s – job, so she had to have a passion for it, right? Helping people…

And helped him she had. He didn’t know where he’d be if it wasn’t for her. She’d been there for him tremendously over the years, especially with his divorce and the strains of being apart from Arin. He was a busy man so these visits couldn’t be in person most of the time, usually done over phone call, sometimes video, but today he’d felt like getting out of the office. Taking a long lunch to confess something he hadn’t even had the balls to tell Namjoon, his best friend of twenty years.

See, the thing was, he had found himself in a bind. It had been two weeks since he’d backed out into your car. Two weeks since he’d embarrassingly taken it upon himself to take said car and pay his mechanic to fix the damage. Two weeks since he’d last seen you, waving you off at the subway station he’d driven you to, and two weeks since he’d been unable to stop thinking about you. He had it bad, and he had no idea if he was deluding himself or not. I might have a little crush, had been his opening line, and it made him want the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

He groaned quite loudly (definitely dramatically), throwing his head back. “But it sounds so juvenile.”

He wasn’t in high school. He was a near forty year old man, with a child. Crushes were for teenagers. In fact, the last time he’d had one he’d been in 9th grade. Moon Dabin, the daughter of one of his father’s friends. It hadn’t ended well, his feelings left unrequited which he feared was happening this time around too. Not that they were feelings per se. That would be foolish. He didn’t even know you properly. This was just an… attraction?

“Well, what else would you call it?” Chaewon chuckled, now not even bothering to try and hide her amusement.

“I have no idea.” He admitted. “I’m just…” he trailed off, feeling like an idiot having to say the words aloud. “I’m just very attracted to her, and I feel this sense of…” – another pause as he tried to think of the correct word – “admiration towards her?”

That didn’t seem right, or it sounded weird, something like that. You were dedicated to your job. The parent teacher meeting had made it obvious just how much you loved teaching. You also had this… tenacity about you. You were feisty, scrappy. He felt out of his depth around you, but oddly relaxed at the same time. He respected you. Not that he didn’t respect everyone, but well – God, what was going on with him? He liked you. It was plain and simple. It didn’t matter if you were virtually a stranger.

“I just like her.”

“What do you like about her?” Chaewon pressed, smiling innocently. “You know, other than her face.”

Seokjin shook his head with a slight chuckle. “She just has this way about her.” You made him laugh. You made him awkward. You made him flirty, as embarrassing as that was to admit. “I mean, I’ve seen her a grand total of three times but each time has been…fun.”

The older woman in front of him raised an eyebrow. “Fun?”

“Different.” He explained with a nod. “There was something there, possibly.” He didn’t want to delude himself after all. “I think we built up some kind of rapport.”

“You mean you were flirting.”

“Possibly.” That word again. “I mean, it’s been a long time since I tried, so I may have been doing it very wrong.”

Chaewon stifled a laugh as she shrugged. “Well, if she was flirting back.”

“I don’t know if she was.” He replied unsurely. “She was kind of annoyed at me, because I wouldn’t let her pay me back for the car but I think it was in a playful way.” He paused, thinking some more. “She let me give her a ride to the subway so she can’t think I’m that bad, right?”

Chaewon hummed in consideration. “Maybe it beat getting lost.” The look of horror on his face made her laugh. “I’m just kidding, Seokjin.” She didn’t give him time to reply, lacing her fingers together as she viewed him. “I say, why don’t you ask her out for dinner.”

“D-dinner?” He more of less spluttered, his shirt collar now feeling dangerously tight against his neck. “Like some kind of date?”

“Mm hm.”

He shook his head, “I can’t.” He was adamant. “It just seems… I’m not – I haven’t dated in a while, and besides, she’s Arin’s teacher.” It would be completely unprofessional. He couldn’t.

“Not for long though, right?”

Seokjin pursed his lips. “Correct.” Damn him for being too easy with the information he’d already handed out. Chaewon had been pushing him to date for the longest time. She was loving this, the chance perfect.

“I’m too busy.” He insisted, but he knew it was an excuse. “What with work and Arin living with me now. It’s just not very plausible.”

“I’m sure you can make time for one little date. Unless…” Chaewon paused to look at him pointedly, “you’re holding out for more?”

“No!” His exclamation was loud. “I just… If things – Never mind,” he ended with a groan, flustered now. His face felt hot. His ears too.

Chaewon sighed gently. “Seokjin, you deserve some time for yourself too. I think dating will do you some good.”

There she went again.

“It’s been what, two years?” Seokjin answered her question with a nod, knowing what she was alluding to. “Don’t you think it’s time to put yourself out there?”

He hesitated. Deep down he knew she was talking sense. While not exactly minding the fact he was single, a companionship sounded nice. A romantic one at that. But who would want a divorced father? He wasn’t exactly a catch now was he?

“What could go wrong?” Chaewon prompted, sensing his reluctance.

“What if she’s married?”

He may or may not have already looked for a ring that Saturday afternoon you’d dropped off his car… Was that a strange thing to do? He hadn’t seen one, but that didn’t mean anything.

“Then she’ll simply tell you that and you’ll have to get over your little crush.”

If you were married, he’d feel like such a fool getting his hopes up like this, and if you weren’t, chances were you were already in a relationship. “What if she’s not interested in going for dinner?” He figured they were valid concerns. He hadn’t asked out a woman in near a decade, and even then it wasn’t comparable because he had known Nana was interested already.

“Again, she’ll let you know,” Chaewon smiled.

“Do you think she might be interested?” The thought of getting turned down would not only dent his ego, but he’d be extremely disappointed too. He really did like you. Maybe getting another woman’s perspective would do him good. “You know, from what I’ve told you,” he added.

Chaewon’s smile grew, gaze casting downwards as she began to tease him. “Well, with the rapport you’ve built up, and the way she was annoyed at you but playfully, then maybe.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, rubbing his fingers back and forth along his jaw. “Shit, you’re setting me up for failure.”

“I don’t think I am,” she said, shaking her head to turn serious. “From what you’ve told me, and granted she’s single, I think you’re in with a fighting chance.”

Seokjin liked the sound of that. “So you don’t think she’s still holding a grudge against me?”

“For what, stealing her car?”

“If you want to call it that.” He didn’t even try to fight it today. He already knew Chaewon’s views on the matter. She’d been appalled to find out that he’d just gotten his mechanic to tow away your car like that. Of course, he understood his mistake now, but back then he was blindsided, hellbent on sorting out the mess he’d caused.

“I guess possibly she can hold a grudge and be attracted to you at the same time,” Chaewon replied almost cryptically, but Seokjin was too distracted by the latter half. He hoped you were attracted to him, just as much as he was attracted to you.

“That reminds me,” Chaewon clapped her hands suddenly, gaining his attention back. “We should probably use some of this session to go over that impulsiveness you sometimes struggle with.”

Psychoanalysing himself did not sound like fun right now. Not when he had to make a decision about asking you out for dinner or not. Maybe he needed that impulsiveness right now…

“However, from the look on your face, I see you want to keep talking about Y/N.”

The sound of your name made him grin. It was such a pretty name, suited you well. Maybe he could do this. Date. It didn’t have to be a big deal. It didn’t have to be scary.

“Chaewon, do you think I’m ready to start dating?” He asked in all seriousness, as if he didn’t know her answer.

“I have been saying it for months now, yes,” his therapist nodded, but her voice was gentle. She understood his hesitance, she knew him very well.

“Right,” he murmured, lowering his head feeling a little bashful.

“So,” she nudged softly, “you better hurry, or you’ll be all out of chances. You did say the summer fate is tomorrow, didn’t you?”

Shit. He definitely told her too much.

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

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bokunosimpfiction · 3 years

Text

Jin x Reader

Request: Anything fluff/smut without plot from Jin would be awesome!!! thank u in advance <3

So in the google form the color for samurai champloo and demon slayer in the pie chart are almost the same and I was sooooo confused on who jin was for a hot second. But I hope you enjoy this!

(also I collect requests in the google forms so I can collect analytics on what people like to see on my blog. I don’t have to sit and look at notes and wonder if it’s the same people or not lol)

1.5k words about???

Synopsis: You and Jin end up in an abounded shed waiting out a storm. You both decide to not be strangers on the same road anymore

It was quiet in the abandoned shed you had found shelter in with him. Two travelers, alone on a single road, driven to the same place to share a roof over your head. It was dark and the rain only dripped through one part of the roof. There was enough space for two people to sleep if the pressed close to one another. Which is what would probably happen later tonight. In the meantime, you and this mysterious samurai were sharing your onigiri by lantern light.

“Thank you for sharing,” he says. It’s purely customary. You doubt he means it. Unless he’s normally this serious and quiet. He’s almost solemn, like he’s grown used to carrying an enormous weight.

“I should be thanking you for your company,” you respond, “I’ve been travelling alone for along time, and it’s nice to be near someone, even if they are a stranger.” You don’t really find the energy to continue talking, and rather, you find your head resting against the wall of the shack you’ve taken refuge in against the storm.

He looks at you, surprised by your confession, and his glasses slide down towards the tip of his nose. He clears his throat and composes himself. “Well, we’ll be staying here together for a little bit, so I see no reason why we should stay strangers for the moment. I am Jin.”

You introduce yourself, and explain where you’re heading too, only to find he’s heading there too. He has nothing but the clothes on his back, the sword on his hilt, and the skills to use it. While you have some coins and an instrument you’ve been playing to get a little bit of pocket change for food and lodging.

“We should travel together to Kyoto,” you end up saying, “you can keep me safe, and I’ll provide the food.”

He wants to disagree, but he doesn’t. Something about you and how you carry yourself is entrancing to him, and he finds himself being drawn into your eyes. You stare right back, with an energy he can’t quite put his finger on, and the distance closes itself before either of you can really process it.

His mouth tastes like umeboshi and kelp, and so does yours, having not even finished your food quite yet. You part for a moment, foreheads resting together, and you find yourself saying, “I don’t want to be strangers, Jin.”

“Neither do I…” It’s a strange feeling, telling this half-truth. He does want to get to know you, but does he want to stay with you after this journey ends, or will he want to part ways and think of you as a nostalgic memory? He decides to leave his thoughts aside and enjoy your soft lips on his.

You find yourself leaning towards him, and he leans towards you, lowering you onto the dirt floor you’ve both been sitting on. Your hair splays out like a halo, a part of your face illuminated by the warm yellow light of the candle.

“Would you like me to put out the lantern?” He asks.

“No thank you, I’d like to see your face.” Perhaps it’s to intimate, or perhaps having sex in the moonlight is too romantic for two people who’ve only known each other for five hours. Whatever the answer to that is, it doesn’t matter, because the lantern stays on and he finds himself kissing your neck, undoing the ties on your obi so your kimono falls apart.

Your chest rises and falls slowly, but your heart beats in your ears as he pushes the fabric apart even further, and helps you take your arms out of your sleeves before lowering you back onto your now discarded clothing. His hands run up and down your skin as you work on ridding him of his as well but only managing to open his yukata before he dives into kissing you again. His skin is so pale it looks almost like paper in the light of the lantern.

You run your hands down his shoulders to his biceps and squeeze lightly. He’s braced above you on his forearms, placing chaste kisses from your neck to your chest. You can’t help the way you gasp his name when he presses his tongue flat against your right nipple.

He closes his mouth around the bud and finds himself looking up through his lashes at the relaxed look on your face. The steady pants that escape you as you thread your fingers through his hair. He’s intoxicated by the taste of your skin, and he continues downwards towards the apex of your thighs.

When he reaches your pubic bone you pull his head up lightly by his ponytail. “You don’t have too.”

“I want to.” And he presses forward, breathing in the musk of your cunt before he likes a stripe up your slit, already wet with the minimal foreplay thus far. He finds his tongue delving into your slit, barely pressing against your entrance and you whimper. It’s such a delicate and arousing sound, and knowing he has you vulnerable like this, legs splayed around his head, fills himself with a sense of pride.

The tip of his tongue grazes your clit, and he finds himself nudging it out of its hood, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses to your entrance while letting his tongue barely enter you. Your legs squeezing around his head grounds him as his tongue thrusts lazily inside you, feeling your breathing quicken.

His hand snakes itself between your thighs and he eases one finger in and watches your body stiffen as you gasp. The stretch doesn’t burn but it isn’t comfortable either, but as he moves his fingers the sensation becomes solely pleasurable and when he adds a second finger you feel your eyes water. It feels different than what your used to when you touch yourself. You’d always to afraid to go inside, and opted to just rub your clit, but his fingers feel so good inside you, the tips brushing against a spot inside you that had you keening, begging for more.

His mouth moves to your clit and he prods the nub with his tongue and begins to suck, gently, and feels your clit throb in his mouth in time with the way he thrusts his fingers. Your thighs tense around his head, and the muscles tense. You feel liquid fire through your veins, and it’s so hard to hold onto reality as you feel intense pleasure travel throughout your body. Your toes curl and your fingernails dig into Jin’s scalp as the most intense orgasm of your entire life crashes through you, like waves of the ocean against a ship during a summer storm.

He let’s you ride out your orgasm, and when your shaking slows down and your legs go limp does, he finally pulls away fully, your wetness glistening on his mouth. You lean up to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue as he leans you back so your again.

When his lips leave yours, you pant onto his face trying to catch up with the events that just occurred.

“I’d like to make you feel good,” you find yourself saying. And going to sit up again, trying to reach for his erection.

“You need to rest,” Jin says, “I can wait a little bit while you catch your breath.”

“But-“

“No buts, this is clearly the first time you’ve done something like this.” His observation is true, even if you hate to admit it. “I don’t think you’ve even properly touched yourself, have you?”

You shake your head. No, no you haven’t.

“Then going all the way can wait. I’ve taken enough of your firsts for tonight.” It’s a definitive answer, one you know you can’t argue with as he helps you back into your clothing, gently.

“You did so well,” he mutters the praise into your ear as he slips your kimono back on, not bothering to wrap it around you as he hold his bare chest to yours. You can feel his breaths rise and fall as he holds you and rolls you onto your side in his arms.

It’s still raining, but the lantern has burnt out and only fractures of moonlight shine through the cracks of the wooden walls. The moment is soft and quiet, only steady breathing and the putter of rain being heard, almost like white noise to drift off to.

And you do. You drift off to sleep with Jin, on the dirt floor of an abounded shed in the woods. You weren’t strangers like you were just hours ago and being close to him like this was a kind of serene you couldn’t find anywhere else in the world. And you hope you’d be able to keep this to yourself.

#samurai champloo #samurai champloo x reader #jin x reader #jin samurai champloo #samurai champloo imagine #samurai champloo smut #fluff #smut #i had fun writing this

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pixieungerstories · 3 years

Text

Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole. 1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions. Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth. I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off. None of the windows were smashed. There were mature fruit trees in the backyard. If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential. The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced. The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did. It had a boiler. I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning. And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler. The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them. It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually. It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house. I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make. I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound. The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul. Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen. Not exciting, but satisfying. Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access. Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse. I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in. I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it. The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch. It was fine. I understood completely. I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all.

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine. I was young and healthy. I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever? I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight. I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips. I was so fucking thirsty.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me. Chicken noodle out of a can. It’s not that hard to make. I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep. Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night. I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card. So was the mattress and sheets. It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them. I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom? I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors. I must be losing my mind. I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work. I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down. I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not. I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.

The watched feeling was worse. I ordered some rat traps with my groceries. I didn’t catch anything. They didn’t take the bait. I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning. That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself. Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud. “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure. “At least it is some sound,” I muttered. “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback. I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms. The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks. When I needed to actually go out, that might help. In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind. Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet. Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.” Shit. I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily. I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early. In the morning there were footprints in the dust. They weren’t mine. They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human. Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside. I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house. I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?” I called from the doorway, ready to run. I had no idea where I could even run to. “Um… Is anyone there?” I don’t know what I was expecting. “Hi? Um …. I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here. I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck. The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting. “I … uh… I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here? Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit. That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said. Oh. “No, that was an accident. I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that. I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked in years. The sun started to go down and the bugs came out. I was being eaten alive outside. Going inside was scary but he was right. He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door. “Did you order furniture on my credit card?” I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy. I shivered and thought about going back outside. The door pulled itself closed behind me. I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything. I could hear something breathing. I turned again. Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear. Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now. “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence. Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night. I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room. I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing. I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate. I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon. “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet. “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief. I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now. You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove. My breakfast dishes were gone. I found them clean and dry in the cupboard. “Thank you,” I whispered. He didn’t reply. As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet. The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating. Or washing and drying the dishes. I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor. Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there. I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it. It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me. I spun, there was nothing there. “Do not open that door. Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant. I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again. I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on. Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen. I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big. He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong. I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped. “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows. Go to bed.”

“Um… I was thinking, that should be your room, really. Your closet. You picked out the bed. I can just camp down -”

“No. Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened? I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I. The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out. “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that. “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me? What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep. You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?” he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one. Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six. It had been turned off. The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs. The air smelled faintly of solder. There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker. Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly. I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home. The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom. I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone.

Well, not gone. I could see it installed through the holes in the walls. I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water. I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out. Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months. I tried all the taps and the toilet. Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.” It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker. Nothing happened. I growled as I plugged it in. The power went out.

“Oh come on! Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.” It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t. I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window. The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days. I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too. Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it. I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh! Dude! You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath. “OK. Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue. “Do you? Eat I mean. Do you eat? What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me. I am not going to eat you. Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden. I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself. The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie. I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started. Right! I thought. Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends. Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out. That was just a thing now. My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me. That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others. I hit the mute button. “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you. What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled. I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago. Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks. Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go. It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah. Good night.” After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat. “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear. I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed. Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me. The hands on my arms were cool and smooth. “What are you?”

“I am me. I have not asked your name. You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail. And my credit card. You know my name,” I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try. “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side. The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer. The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.

I sat frozen. “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down. I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut. I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs. I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix. This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache. I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

#quarantine #oh my god they were quarantined

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