#like people are unfortunately assholes and most of the country was not in the room where it happened so to speak | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ktficworld · 11 months

Text

The Cinderella Moment

Pairing: reader x (you choose)

Summary: You are a broke college student who works for a very stuck up, arrogant and rude rich family. They give you food and shelter and so you always accept their impossible orders with a nod. But their order to go to a ball, disguised as their daughter might just flip your world upside down.

Warnings: Riches being shitty, reader's broke, verbal abuse.

A/n: This is an experiment and I dunno how it's gonna turn out, but if you like it then please do reblog.

"8 weeks? Can't it heal faster? The ball is just around the corner." The shrill voice of madam Abigail pierced your ears as you discreetly rubbed them.

The doctor who was sitting at the injured Rose's side shook his head and said. "No, Mrs. Thompson. It takes 6 to 8 weeks for a broken arm to fully heal."

Madam Abigail fall down on one of the chairs dramatically and you rolled your eyes as you took in the scene from a secluded corner of the room.

You were a college student. Well, a broke college student to be exact. You did get into a prestigious college on scholarship but the other bills were crippling down on you. You didn't want to burden your parents as your financial background was not favorable. After working in cafes and fast food chains, living in crappy apartments and skipping breakfast everyday. When you saw the job posting for a house keeper with housing and food, you jumped on it like a cat jumping on a ball.

You were finally able to move out of your shitty apartment with not so nice company into a decent maid's room and the food was also better than the leftovers at your previous jobs.

However, not everything was rainbows and sunshines. Your employer was horrible, condescending, rude and overall the epitome of rich, stuck-up assholes. You now worked almost 24/7, having to be present on a whim and maintaining everything into perfection.

It was like retail job, just no off time with Karens screaming at you all the time. But you didn't give a fuck. Every insult hurled at you would fall on deaf ears because you learnt long time ago that detachment really annoyed people with superiority complex.

Mr. Thompson was rarely home so it was only Abigail and her ducklings following her around. The only person who was nice to you was laying on the bed with a broken arm. The only one eligible for the grand ball.

Oh, the grand ball? It was a masquerade party, the most hyped upcoming event, organized by one of the richest man in the country, so he could find someone to settle down with. People called him prince because he was the youngest in the bunch of old billionaires.

Of course it was nothing but arranged marriage and someone actually meeting the prince and catching his eyes would be like finding a needle in a haystack. But there would be many other wealthy suitors than just him. So, needless to say, the ball was a gold mine for potential catches.

Abigail and many of her tea time friends were so furious that only girls above 18 were allowed. They would send their nine year old if it meant snatching a good deal.

And so seeing the only candidate from their family injured and unattractive. Abigail was devasted to say the least.

"Is there really no way for a speedy recovery? Can she not wear her cast on the night of the ball? It's really important." She Shrieked.

The doctor was agitated but contained it well and answered in a balanced voice. "Unfortunately, no. We cannot dictate when the recovery would happen and she needs to wear the cast all the time for the arm to heal properly and effectively. You should take care of your daughter."

Abigail scoffed at that and sobbed into her handkerchief, not even sparing Rose a glance. She was visibly upset by it but probably did not want any drama as she whispered out. "Mom, it's going to be alright. It okay."

Abigail's head snapped towards Rose as she scowled at her daughter. "How is it going to be alright? You're going to miss such a great opportunity. And you're so stupid. How did you fall from the stairs? Do you not have eyes? I'm so unfortunate to have an useless child like you..." Abigail continued to berate her daughter and you sneakily went to the doctor to escort him out as the scene was about to turn ugly and he didn't sign up for a reality TV show.

The doctor thanked you and handed you a prescription. You nodded and went back. Sure enough, they were both shouting at each other now. Rose tried to shot back but since she was injured, she lacked her usual ferocity as Abigail managed to dominated her.

You shook your head in exasperation and opened your mouth to interrupt. You might get into trouble for this but you couldn't watch Abigail scold a sick and fragile Rose, when she did nothing to deserve it.

"Madam, I think you should let miss Rose rest and it might help with a quicker recovery." You said and braced yourself to get chewed out.

Abigail spun on her heels, her whale-like face flushed with rage as she pointed a harsh finger at you and started. "You don't need to meddle-" She cut herself off as a look of awe dawned on her face, like she had an epiphany.

She rushed towards you. Grabbing you by the arm and dragged you beside Rose. What is this woman doing? You didn't want to get yelled at so you remained there with a bewildered frown as Abigail's assessing gaze flicked between you and Rose, her smile widening with each gaze.

After the tenth gaze, Abigail clapped her hands in glee and exclaimed. "Perfect. You are perfect." And stared at you.

"I'm perfect for what?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You are perfect to go to the ball as Rose. Just look at you two both, look like pretty twins." Abigail gushed, her eyes twinkling with hope.

You gawked at her, applaud. "Are you shitting me?"

Abigail snapped her eyes at you and barked. "Mind your language, servant."

You put up your hand. "Ma'am, I won't. I have done everything you asked me to do. From cleaning the deepest corner of the mansion by myself to entertaining pervy men. I have done everything, but I won't do this. I won't go in place of Rose. I don't want to deceit anyone." You ranted.

This woman had asked you to do so many egregious things and you did them without any complaint. However, this is where you draw the line. It was alright when you were the only one taking the brunt of her deviousness but if she wants you to deceive other people, you wouldn't do it.

Considering you had just been lied to yourself. The man who claimed to love you, got engaged with someone else without a peep of protest. You were just his play thing.

Abigail looked like she wanted to slap you as her face flushed red and her eyes twitched. "You ungrateful, brat. I gave you a roof, food, safety and that's how you repay me? By counting all the bare minimum you have done? I thought that maybe you had some sense of integrity but I should have known better," She scoffed wryly and looked you dead in the eye. "Tell me, how much you want me to pay you to go to this ball?"

To all the insults you have been subjected to, this genuinely offended you. "Ma'am, you could sell your morals for money but I can't. Even if you give me a billion dollar I won't go. I don't want to trick someone into believing I'm somebody else. This is my boundary I won't cross."

Abigail sneered. "Just drop your act already-"

"Mom, let me talk to her." Rose interjected and you flashed her a determined look. You weren't going to budge on this one.

"What would you talk to her? You are just as dumb as her." Abigail yelled.

"If I didn't convince her then you can call me as many insults as you'd like. Now please, get out." She responded, softy but firmly.

Abigail huffed and whined but left the room nonetheless, the door clicking shut but you knew she was right outside the door, listening to everything and so did Rose as she beckoned you to the bed. You sighed and sat down beside her.

"Listen, you should go. Have fun, eat expensive food and rob my mother of as much money as you need to get out of here. And before you start about deceit and all that. You don't need to meet anyone, just imagine what are your chances of meeting the prince and catching his eye? Maybe one percent. Every women would be busy fawning over him, you won't even get an opportunity." Rose explained in a hushed voice.

When she put it like that it didn't sound bad but you were still apprehensive. "But I have already said no to the money, if I demand it now then she would be proven correct and what about the other suitors?" You countered.

"Who cares what my mother thinks of you? She already thinks you are inferior and nothing would change that, then why not use the opportunity and get out of her claws? And as for the other suitors, as I said you don't need to meet anyone there. My mother won't be there to make sure you are putting in the efforts or not." She argued.

"You sure you are Abigail's bio daughter? You doesn't seem to like her much." You half joked, half lamented. Now the idea of going to the ball wasn't looking bad or deceitful. Just a solace night in a pretty dress.

Rose let out a bitter laugh. "Unfortunately, I'm. And I don't like the way you are treated but that's the only thing I can do. Plus, the event may cheer you up, since you're going through a lot right now..." She trailed off, probably not wanting to open your fresh wound.

You hummed quietly and let the room get silent. After some hesitation, you whispered. "You did it intentionally." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. Rose was far from being clumsy or reckless so for her to fall from the stairs she could navigate blindly. It was rather suspicious.

"I let my love go once y/n. I can't let it go again." She whispered back.

You gulped due to the tension. "So, shall I call your mother?" You asked to lighten the mood and it worked as Rose beamed at you and nodded her head.

"So, you'd go?" She asked hopefully.

"Yes, I'd go." You said with a grin, image be damned Rose was right. Scam Abigail and get the fuck out of there.

You opened the door and a very annoyed and impatient Abigail stomped inside. She glowered at you expectantly and you cleared your throat.

"After Rose's arguments, I have decided to go to the ball. If you give me my desired price." You said monotonously.

A look of smugness crossed her face as she scoffed and said. "I knew it. So much for morals. Now spit your price."

And so you did.

You asked for an amount that would keep you afloat for a year. You had initially asked for 4 years worth of money, yes greedy. But you knew it would not make a dent in their bank balance and you really wanted to get back for all the obnoxious and unreasonable things she had made you do it.

However, Abigail wasn't pleased with this offer as she shouted that she would only give you that amount if you managed to woo the prince. You had no plans for doing that so you let go of that notion.

It gave you the much needed vacation from your work but the practice that came afterwards almost made you take back your offer and go back to scrubbing the floors.

The process to become Rose was strenuous. From how you walked to how you talked, everything needed to be exactly like Rose. Cursing was thrown out the window. You had to walk slowly with small steps with a sway of your hips, no long strides were allowed. Heck, you couldn't even slouch. Although you didn't receive a scathing hit by wooden stick, Abigail's earbiting voice and insults were not any pleasant either.

You had to speak like you were talking to crickets, poised and low. Cracking Rose's accent and voice was the toughest task but you pulled it off. Everything was so meticulous, from clothing to manners to behavior. These effluent women had to be perfect, not human. But it was all useless as you wouldn't be behaving like the perfect little doll at the ball. Maybe it would help you further down the line to snatch a rich man if you turned out to be a failure.

Rose also got some relief from her banshee of a mother as she mostly helped you and took care of herself, her mother didn't give two fucks about her daughter's health.

That was how the days passed and here you were now, sitting ahead of Rose's vanity as Abigail dolled you up for the ball. She didn't hire any stylist or artist as it could risk her scheme getting out, no matter how much she paid them.

"You must secure a man for my daughter or you will not be getting any money." Abigail hissed as she zipped up your dress.

"That is not the terms we agreed on. You are paying me to go to the ball as Rose, not to woo a man. I'll try to do my best but you can't hold back my payment." You bit back. You weren't an idiot, you had made her sign a contract and this bit wasn't in it.

Abigail scowled at you and muttered under her breath. "Little wicked tramp." And stepped back as you were ready.

You rolled your eyes, the comment sliding off of your consciousness like butter as you glanced up to assess your reflection.

And you were awestruck to say the least.

Your makeup was minimal as it would get overshadowed by the dim lights and mask anyways. However, it brought out your features to the fullest, making you look like a princess.

The dress was even more mesmerizing. It was a dusty blue fluffy gown with a heart neckline and white embroidery shattered throughout. It flowed like ichor on your body, making you look ethereal.

You hummed in admiration and grabbed the same coloured mask from the vanity, you tied it behind your head as Rose came near you.

"You look so beautiful, even with the mask. I think you would have a hard time dodging men." She teased.

You swatted her forearm and whirled around to glare at her. "Don't say stuff like that, Rose. I'm already a nervous wreck inside." You whined. It was true, going or doing something for the first time always felt daunting but this time you felt like an intruder as you didn't belong in that party at all. Thankfully, the anonymity of the mask was a sigh of relief to you.

Rose chuckled and bobbed your nose. "No, I'm serious. You look really pretty-"

She was cut off by a yell from Abigail. "Come on, you'll be late. Do you want people to think that we are late arrivers?"

You sighed deeply as Rose shook her head. "Okay, have fun and stay away from boys. Bye." She said and hugged you.

You hugged her back and said hastily. "Okay, bye." And jogged out of the room and into the car as Abigail's insults played in the background.

👑👠💃

"Miss, we have arrived." The unassuming driver said and pulled open the car door.

The respect was peculiar as you gingerly stepped outside. Your dusty blue pumps stark against the grey pavement. Abigail wanted you to wear heels but you'd be damned if you risked blisters or a twisted ankle on your precious feet.

You smoothed down your dress and started walking forward, your breath catching in your throat upon gazing at the banquet. The venue appeared heavenly, with white gates and staircase like golden glass, leading to the paradise of the elite. It was bustling with people who had enough money to buy your soul. All hidden behind their customized mask and clothes, some were extravagant, some were elegant.

Their expensive scent mingled in the air, creating a tantalizing and mystical aura. It was amplified by the dim lights of the hall, leaving the mind tranquil and intrigued for the suitors behind the veils.

Although the low light made it hard to decipher the interior of the hall. It definitely was of Victorian style as it was opulent and eloquent at the same time.

You looked around like a curious child as you observed and admired the beauty, upper class deemed normal.

You rushed to the food first, eating every of those stupidly expensive yet tasty dishes from all around the world. They were a lot so you ate small portions but your favorite had to be the chocolate fountain where you may or may not have coated your fingers with chocolate and licked them clean. No, classy ladies like you didn't do such things.

You tried to talk to some other girls as well but they were more interested in finding their future husbands. Hence, all your conversations died shortly after some begrudging small talk.

Those also attracted unwanted male attention so you quickly noped out of there and began exploring the venue however it was way bigger than you expected. Though mostly consisting of bedrooms and suites, you had squealed in surprise when you had found a small library tucked away in the lounge. You wanted to read there so badly, but you had come here to mess around not hide in a corner and read Jane Austen like your usual self.

However your enthusiasm had mellowed down as you now stared out the large bay window, in a secluded corner, chewing on fruits and silently observing the party.

"How come there's no fountain in the garden?" You mused to yourself. You had even gone to the garden and found no fountain and now gazing at it again reminded you of that smidge of flaw again.

"Because it's in the balcony." A deep voice said from behind.

You gasped, one hand flying to your racing heart as the other clutched onto the fruit plate for dear life, your body slightly trembling from the unexpected adrenaline surging to your veins.

You whipped your head to look at the perpetrator as he gave you a sheepish and apologetic look. You couldn't clearly make out his face but the golden light coming from the oil lamp above you and the white moonlight casted an unique glow on his porcelain face, his stark blue eyes twinkling in the lights.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. You looked lonely so I thought to give you some company." He said, his black suit and mask made him blend into the surroundings like the devil lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for an opportunity.

"So, you were stalking me?" You said sharply before you could even comprehend your words. You instantly regretted it as dread filled your stomach. Fuck, he wasn't some random man you could sass around. He was definitely a very powerful man, he dripped from it.

He chuckled, the sound soothing to your ears. "I was not stalking. I was... Observing." He said playfully.

You relaxed at his nonchalance and smirked at him. "So, you were definitely stalking." You teased back.

"Oh, come on. I'm trying to be romantic here. Plus, a little birdie like you, standing alone in a corner while everybody danced? You'd definitely stick out like a sore thumb." He said.

You snapped your gaze back to the main area and sure enough, everyone was twirling on the melody flowing in the air, while you stares out a window like a werido.

"I didn't know people were dancing." You whispered, more to yourself but he heard it.

"Since we are the only loners left, might you enjoy some company?" He suggested with a charming smirk and extended his hand for you, his sapphire blue eyes flickering towards the dance floor.

Rejection must be as clear as day on your face as he retrieved his hand with a pout and walked closer to you. You stepped backwards, your back hitting the window.

"Just one dance with you, pretty please?" He pleaded and gently brought his hand over his heart like it would get wounded by your denial.

It was so coy that it made you chuckle. "Hmmm, I'll dance with you but only on one condition. You'll have to show me the balcony." You offered and he nodded ecstatically.

He stretched out his hand once again and this time you took it. Your skirt twirled as he held your waist and whisked you to the dance floor. No one noticed your presence, too engrossed in their own world. However, you did.

You took notice how in the light of the chandelier, his face was more visible, how sharp his jaw was. You noticed how his muscular arms felt beneath your hands as you clutched onto them. How his body enveloped yours, a cocoon you never wanted to leave.

"You are so beautiful. " He murmured, close to your face. His gaze piercing as his voice sent shivers down your spine.

"But not as Beautiful as you. " You whispered and huffed out a breathy chuckle. You wanted to see him without his mask.

He beamed at you but swiftly grabbed your hand that was gliding behind his head, near his mask string. "Don't do that, darling." He husked out, bringing your hand to his lips, he kissed your palm. Heat rose to your cheeks as you looked away, making him chuckle. He was devilishly charming.

"Your palms are not, soft. Why?" He asked inquisitively. He was observant for sure or had kissed many women's palms.

"I-uh, like to do some manual labour. Some for fun, some for skills." You stuttered out, hoping it wouldn't blow your cover.

"That's nice. But I totally forgot to ask, what's your name?" He asked softly.

"What's your name?" You countered, anxiety brewing inside you.

He shook his head with a chuckle. "What's in the name?" And winked at you.

"Exactly." You gasped when he spun you around, your back hitting his muscular chest.

"So, what are you looking for?" He asked in your ear.

It took you a moment to process his question. "Fun." You replied.

"No, in terms of love. Don't you wanna love someone?"

You didn't like where this conversation was heading as you turned in his arms and wrapped your hands around his neck. 'Don't you?"

"I don't have time for love?" He said honestly.

"It's overrated anyways."

He let out a throaty laugh. "No, it's not overrated," He said and pulled you closer, his earthy scent hypnotizing you. "It's painfully sweet."

"Mhm, you're really poetic." You teased.

"So, you want to see the fountain?" He asked with a smirk.

"Yes, why not?" You instantly replied.

He chuckled and twirled you around, leading to the staircase parallel to the entrance. He led you up and gradually the lighting intensified as as you both left the main floor and entered into a stairway. It was illuminated by enormous chandeliers with wide bronze steps and Victorian style walls. You both stopped ahead of a golden door and he pushed it open.

Suddenly, the glow surrounding you changed as the ceiling was now replaced by the starry sky. You glanced at him as he smiled at you sweetly.

"You wanted to see the fountain and I'm a man of my word, darling." He said, intertwining your hand with his he guided you through the hallway, the balcony coming into your sight as you came to a halt.

You were stunned as you walked deeper into the balcony. The fountain was set in the middle of it, made with white marbles and on top was a skillfully crafted statue of cupid as water sprinkle down from his arrow. The water glinted in the moonlight as you rushed towards it and sat on the edge of the fountain. Looking to your side, the entire garden was in front of your eyes. The balcony was large, but deserted, no one was there beside you and him. You also weren't able to find it when you traversed the venue. It felt like a secret.

You glanced at him as he gazed at you with affection. "How do you know about this? It feels like something only the prince would know." Since it was one of many hotels the prince's family owned for generations.

"Because I'm the prince." He said and your heart stopped. No, that can't be. But to your absolute horror, he removed his mask and yes, it was him as he walked towards you. He sat beside you and covered your hands with his but you were frozen in place. The shock had paralyzed your body, mind and soul.

"I like you, I hosted a masquerade party to let people be themselves behind their mask. And you're the most authentic girl I've met this night. Your shyness didn't feel forced and your boldness wasn't fake. It's like you had no qualms for impressing anyone and that's what I wanted. You're witty, you seem hard working, you're beautiful. I know it's just one interaction but you are everything I was looking for and I promise to put effort into our relationship. So, will you marry me?"

His last words pounded in your ears. No, you couldn't do this. You couldn't trick someone but you couldn't refuse him either. What if he became angry and came after you? What if he came after Rose? You should have never danced with him.

"I-I need to go." You stumbled away from him, your hands trembling over the railing. You needed to get out of there, fast.

"But why?" He asked, bewildered and stood up.

The balcony was big enough that you could rush past him and he wouldn't be able to catch you. Hopefully, his size wouldn't ruin your escape plan. You took a deep breath and braced yourself for a run. "Because my mother told me to come before midnight and I think I'm already late. I should be get going. Thank you for the good time." You blabbered and marched past him and into the hallway.

"No, wait." He shouted and the thumping of his shoes reverberated in the hallway.

You gulped as you ran along the hallway. You breathed a sigh of relief when the golden door emerged ahead of you. You shoved it open and sprinted down the wide and umber colored stairs. The unusually well-lit staircase helped you skid down faster as your dress bellowed behind you.

However, he wasn't far away as his yells for you to stop made you heave in panic and he felt much closer than he actually was.

Thankfully, the lights reduced as you entered the main hall. You quickly darted into the crowd, making him loose you.

"Excuse me."

"please, let me go."

"I'm sorry, can you step aside?"

You said hundreds of times as you weaved through the crowd, checking your surroundings for him once in a while.

Soon, the crowd cleared out as the entrance door appeared in front of you. You dashed out the door and climbed down the golden steps. Your pace had slowed down, assuming you were out of danger when:

"Close the gates." His thunderous command boomed in your ears, making your blood ran cold.

Your eyes widened in fear as the guards began shutting the gates. You regained your ferocity and even pushed your body's limits as you scurried towards the exit, heart in your throat as the gates came inward by each passing second.

You yelped as you slide outside from a small spacing left before the gates fully closed. You stumbled forward as the gates thudded shut behind you just after a moment you got out.

You pulled open the car door and fall inside it. Your body shaking due to adrenaline as the driver wordlessly started the car and you sighed in relief.

However, just before the car sped off, you caught a glimpse of him staring at the recouping car.

He saw the car. He knows the name. He would come for Rose, thinking it was you. The exact thing you didn't want to happen. SHIT.

316 notes · View notes

lumiereandcogsworth · 5 months

Note

oooooooo wait that bit about the curse skewing time and how it was only 5 days 👀 I’d love to hear about that

OKAY. LET’S DO THIS.

so, my theory is that the curse does in fact skew time. in the movie, gaston says “maurice! i’ve spent the last five days trying to find you!” and this is the same night that the curse will be broken. implying that it’s been Only Five Days since gaston left maurice to the wolves in the forest. this, in turns, implies that it’s only been five days since adam and belle met. and while i am happy to play the Disney Soulmates card, and maybe it was five days, i have some ideas as to why it maybe felt longer than that.

firstly, and for some inexplicable reason this needs to be readdressed every now and then, let’s discuss how long the curse has been happening. in batb 1991, lumiere says it’s been ten years in his song be our guest. this, along with the ‘91 narration saying the last petal would fall on adam’s 21st birthday, has unfortunately led to far too many people thinking that adam was cursed as an 11 year old child. this just isn’t true! not only is it positively insane to think that an enchantress would punish a child that way, you really need not look further than our beloved boy chip.

regardless of how old you think he is, i would bet that majority of us agree he’s younger than 10. i’ve always pegged him around 9-10, and in batb 2017, chip’s actor nathan mack was in fact that age at the time! regardless, he’s very most likely younger than 10. now, if you truly think the curse is Ten Real Years Long, i want you to look me in the eye and try to convince me that a teapot gave birth to a teacup. CLEARLY, chip was not born a teacup. chip longs to be a real boy again. i don’t recall if he says anything specifically in batb 1991, but in batb 2017 he asks his mother if he’ll ever be a boy again! he knows what it is to be a real boy! implying he was cursed, and is trapped, as a child; completely destroying the idea that the curse is legitimately ten years long. much more plausibly, lumiere was singing hyperbolically, because he’s a dramatic bitch (and we like him so much.)

now, i’m not going to make this a competitive thing, but batb 2017 DOES do a lot to fix this problem up. number one, the beginning narration gives no indication to adam’s age, or when the rose petals will finish falling. number two, the prologue actually shows chip sneaking into adam’s ball amidst the chaos, highlighting both that he WAS the same boy that you see at the end, and that he was in the room when the enchantress put her curse on everyone. and number three, lumiere’s line in be our guest changes from “ten years” to “too long” - further confirming my theory that he’s just lamenting the agony of their experience. he may not truly know the length of time it’s been, just that it has been too long for anyone’s comfort.

so now that we’ve gathered that time is already a bit funky, let’s look at this curse. the enchantress is one powerful lady. i personally think she’s some kind of trickster goddess of justice or something, who just goes around the world teaching assholes lessons. regardless of who or what agathe is, she is incredibly powerful. the beginning narration states:

“The prince begged for forgiveness, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.”

she placed a powerful spell on the CASTLE ! as well as adam and the servants! i think that’s so significant. and it’s very clear that she DID curse the castle! it’s trapped in a perpetual winter, despite the fact that it’s june for the rest of the country. not only that, but you can see the way the curse affects the castle. every time a petal falls, the castle rumbles and parts of the structure crumble and break. the place is slowly deteriorating, the curse is eating it alive. given what we know about their perception of time, and that the castle was individually cursed, it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch to think that the castle is not only frozen in terms of weather, but frozen in time as well.

looking at this next part of the narration:

“As days bled into years, the prince and his servants were forgotten by the world, for the enchantress had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved… …As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?”

she’s so powerful she genuinely affected the entire world. or at least, all of europe. like, nobody is asking or wondering about the french prince?? no one is stopping by?? no one is sending letters?? nope! their minds have literally been erased. not a soul in france is wondering what their monarchy is up to. adam has been entirely forgotten. i also think it’s important to note the usage of the word “years” which she says twice. sure, you could argue that it is real years! because it says so! but honestly i think she’s speaking from the perspective of the cursed individuals, particularly adam. in both instances, adam’s experience is stated immediately after she says “years” — first, being forgotten, second, falling into despair. i would argue, then, that to adam (and the servants) it had simply FELT like years. not real years that the rest of the world would experience, but a terrible weight on their shoulders, a hopeless longing for rescue from this awful state, dragging on seemingly endlessly, too long, feeling like years.

my conclusion: i believe that the castle time and real time are not the same. based on everything i’ve laid out, it seems as though the castle is very especially cursed, and while it has felt like years (i honestly don’t think it’s felt like more than three or four. i feel like if you go any further you have to start accounting for mental age, particularly chip. but i may be getting too deep about it.) in reality, it may have only been a matter of months. what if that awful storm that led the enchantress to come “seek shelter” happened in january or february, and now it’s june. perhaps it’s been around six months in real time. but to the castle’s inhabitants? it’s felt like years. so then, if we can use this theory for a moment, perhaps belle’s “five days” at the castle felt a lot more like a handful of weeks, maybe even a month or two.

i also think this because the sort of rapport that adam and belle have just seems like they’ve known each other longer than five days. and don’t get me wrong, sometimes people have those instant connections. like i said, im happy to play the Disney Soulmates card. but humor me for a minute! they have their little inside jokes about romance novels and belle teases him in such a way that just exudes the comfortability between friends, not new acquaintances. not only this, but when they’re in paris, adam simply asks “what happened to your mother?” when belle explains where they are. this, to me, implies that he already knew her mother died when she was a baby. and, personally, i don’t think that’s something i’d mention to someone i’d only known less than a week. but it seems like she’s already had That conversation with him, and further, it seems he’s comfortable about the topic, and feels close enough with her to ask about it further! to me, the way their relationship is depicted, it seems as though they’ve really developed a friendship over more than a bit of time, and have definitely very naturally fallen in love within said friendship.

anything is possible, and this is all my own little speculations and ideas. whether it really was five days or perhaps more, it’s quite clear that their love is something quite spectacular.

#i’ve genuinely thought this for years but never quite written it all down #that was invigorating #i haven’t written an academic essay in a year and a half but that brought me right back HAHA #look at me even quoting the source material #anyway this isn’t meant to throw stones or anything. purely just a theory i’ve thought about!!#it’s moments like these though when i’m like oh yeah. autistic special interest. i see it #lmao. well! thank you for the ask alex. means the world 🥹🫶#alex tag #answered #batb 2017 #beauty and the beast (2017)#beauty and the beast 2017 #beauty and the beast #batb meta

9 notes · View notes

illgiveyouahint · 6 months

Text

So the most prominent pig of our own #MeToo was a young politician who was today found guilty on two charges or r*pe and one charge of attempted r*pe. His entire defense was built on the girls just being career and attention-driven and that's why they made it all up, during their depositions (which were done in a separate room to protect them from having to face him) he laughed so hard that it was heard in the deposition room. Like he's such a disgusting asshole. And until this came to light, he was unfortunately one of the handful of prominent black guys in our country so this of course also had a negative impact on society's view of black people.

#seriously why is it that the most prominent people of color in my country also have to be such shitty people #we have a japanese guy who is the leader of our anti-immigrant homophobic fascist party #now this fucking guy #my country is already racist as is #we don't need this #*sigh*

1 note · View note

if-one-of-us-falls · 1 year

Note

i have been meaning to ask you about your ocs as you talk about them but i don't really know much about them if you feel like give me an introduction to them

Hi! Sure :)

I have a lot of OCs so I'm just going to cover the ones I mention here a lot, and group them by story/project. The titles are not final. Tbh I haven't written in a while and some of these I haven't worked on in a few years, but they're always in heart anyway!

CW: mentions of child abuse, murder, violence

Thunderbride (AKA the pirate novel)

Rahlen

A pirate! In fact, she's the captain of her own ship, and known for being dangerous and ruthless.

She is holding a lot of anger about the way she was brought up

She's very abrasive, bossy, unpredictable and outright violent... But she's also very very intelligent and has a protective streak that she won't admit

I would say the thing that drives her the most is the need for control

Which is unfortunate because the story starts with her being betrayed by her crew, thrown in a cell, completely out of her depth and forced to rely on a bunch of nerds people who are not her first choice for a crew to get her ship back

Celis

One of said nerds

A blood witch. Also part of a marginalized community of magic users in this world

It's a family business and her mom and grandma are A Lot

Twenty-something year old living at home syndrome (so going insane) (or at least feels suffocated and confused)

Very talented but also very insecure. She's slowly learning not to take shit from others

Recently she realised her family's tactics of playing the tame and obedient minority will not protect her from harm

When her childhood... friend? weird mean kid who was her neighbor for a summer and disappeared without a trace? crush? shows up in her room half dead and asks her to come with her on a crazy adventure. Well. She just goes for it

Brazen Palace (series of spy/ gang novellas)

(but really they're about my girls and their relationship) (also there's some diplomacy going on)

Anika

A spy? Information thief? Secret operations doer? Occasional thug? Basically she made a career out of being good at climbing and shooting and sneaking places

Immigrated as a child to the country where the story takes place and lost her mother. She ended up under the wing of a gang leader who taught her everything she knows but also had a freakish amount of control over her life and eventually discarded her for money :/

She ends up working for another, very different boss. Suddenly she has more freedom than ever, but her jobs become more dangerous, her new gang hates her, and she accidentally killed her new roommate's best friend. oops

But really despite her bleak circumstances she's a huge goof ball and a very kind and loving (if cynical at first) person. She shows affection by being annoying and once she decides she likes you she will go very far to serve you

more things you should know about her: very nosey, always sleepy, and super tall

Henlie

Anika's new roommate, who is very upset and angry about having to share a room with the killer of her best friend. But their boss is adamant about it for some reason (spoiler: the reason is emotional manipulation)

Her job in the gang is unclear at first. She is very good at costume making, makeup, disguises and acting, if that gives you a clue. (it doesn't give Anika a clue because she's a dummy (affectionate) ).

Her mother left and her father is a disaster, so she left home young and started fending for herself. She's extremely secretive about her past and gets furious when others try to meddle. She's hurting and keeping it to herself, but it's getting harder now that she's dealing with more grief

She's so clever but also so jaded. She's the opposite of naive, but also very young and inexperienced and on the brink of an emotional breakdown

underneath it all she has a sense of humor and playfulness, if only there was a giant goofy snooping asshole in her room to help uncover it 😈

Tajan

Tajan shows up later on in the story, and even gets his own novella because I like him so much. He is a member of Anika and Henlie's gang and has been away on a mission for a while.

He is a huge language nerd and speaks five languages

Generally a very nice and charming guy. He can be physically dangerous, but his strength lies in his charisma and ability to connect with people. He also flirts for fun all the time

He was born in a relatively poor country. His parents thought they were sending him to get an education abroad, but it turned out to be a child labor scam. He is still dealing with the trauma from that.

He owes a lot to his current boss for helping him get out of that situation, and is very loyal and grateful to him. He might have to deal with some conflicting loyalties in the future

The Eye of Truth (epic fantasy coming of age with a cult element)

Tena

At 16, after her older sister is murdered by invaders one town over, Tena's parents arrange a marriage for her to keep her safely away from the border (and her notions of becoming a soldier). She used to be vibrant and rebellious, but the grief has numbed her. She's trapped.

On the way to the place where she's supposed to get married, she and her traveling companions (including her uncle/ bestie Will and the son of the local nobles, who is also being sent away) get attacked and taken captive by a revolutionary group seeking to upend the government and spread a new religion. And they are very interested in some of Tena's abilities (magic! plant magic even!)

She becomes the liaison between her friends and the captors. She resents the things they do, but they start drawing her in, and their teachings make more and more sense. Their leader, Safan, is extremely charismatic - and he can teach her about the powers she didn't know she had. And maybe she doesn't want things to go back to normal after all.

Her inner conflict is all about craving independence vs. being afraid to have it

She's kind of a tomboy, very headstrong and determined (once she starts feeling like herself again). Kind of naive but very resourceful and brave. She deals with a lot of anger and feelings of helplessness.

Ropes (more epic fantasy! Filled with the power of unlikely friendships)

Tarrey

one of my oldest OCs. I think I made her when I was 11.

She was abandoned (kind of) as an infant and raised by a traveling circus/ artist troop. She became a very talented acrobat. Despite being so appreciated, she’s convinced that her only worth to the others comes from the money she earns for the camp with her performances.

She is extremely harsh with herself and others. She holds herself to a nearly impossible standard and will not admit that she is exhausted.

She’s socially anxious and avoids the other members of the camp as much as she can. Her status as a high earner means people generally leave her be. She tells herself this is how she likes it, but she’s actually so lonely. The one time she made a friend outside of the camp, he disappeared when she came back from tour. So she’s quite distrusting.

also she’s been having some very strange (prophetic?) dreams

A disaster forces her to run away with the two other protagonists of this story (maybe I’ll talk about them another time) and it starts out as a miserable road trip and evolves into the most beautiful found family situation ever. Like seriously I care about them so much

That’s it for now! Thank you so much for sending this ask, it was so fun to remember all my children OCs again 🥹 As I said I have a bunch more but this is already super long hehe

#OC introduction #oc: tarrey #oc: tena #oc: tajan #oc: henlie #oc: anika #oc: Rahlen #oc: Celis

4 notes · View notes

vivaciouscynner · 1 year

Text

I know everyone is super excited about orange getting indicted. I don't want to crush hopes and dreams, but this is seriously one of those, "I'll believe it when I see it" moments because the guy is absolutely known to "get away with it" for a lot of various reasons.

It would not surprise me in the slightest if he croaks (which would be great) before a sentence is reached (which I'm sure will take years) even if he is found guilty.

He was a former president. He will not be held to the same standards as others are when they're detained. He will have, basically, a hotel room, if not detained under house arrest. He will be given 3 meals a day on tax payer money with no threat to his asshole.

His "jail time" will unfortunately be better than most people's retirement. I'll be surprised if he's inconvenienced at all.

There's more bad news: His indictment hearing and due process will be incredibly lengthy. The news coverage will be absolute gibberish and rubbish. Every day will be "doesn't look good for trump" "bombshell" "3 years in, and the verdict is not in, but here's what the future could look like"

All the while really dangerous laws are being passed without anyone knowing because THIS is the big news. It will bury all the coverage on those dangerous laws being passed and no one's going to pay attention because everyone wants Orange to pay.

Look, I hope I'm wrong and we'll all be a little bit vindicated swiftly. But have you SEEN this country lately?

Right now, I need you guys to start focusing on your own states (for you US-ians) rather than this guy. Even those who are in safe states, that can change in a real quick blink of an eye.

#politics #I'll try to refrain from talking about politics #but seriously #I know what's going to happen and we really need a huge wave of people to make a difference right now

0 notes

abnormalbubblegumman · 1 year

Text

About Alcoholism and My Moral Failings

(Written in late november, Thankfully none of the things described in the end happened)

Have you heard about alcoholism? The answer is very simple. YES, you have fucking heard about alcoholism. It’s one of the most affecting diseases in the world right now.Do you know that 65 million Americans report binge-drinking every single month?? exactly, 65 MILLION, that’s an absolutely bonkers number, and it’s all true. I live in Brazil, land of palms, or the cooler “giant of the south” (a term created by no one else than me, and said only to myself, and if you said that before me you’re lying and you’re going to hell). And in this country 2 million people suffer from alcoholism. It’s also a problem I have.

Now my family likes to say. “Ricardo, that’s bullshit, you’re not an alcoholic, of course you may become one, but that doesn’t make you an alcoholic”, i say BULLSHIT, i am an alcoholic. I love drinking, I would drink every day if I could. But I can't, and it’s ruining me. I already have a bad liver, and now I drink. If you think i’m going past 60 i can say you’re delusional.

So anyway, in my last drunk adventures, or more fitting, drunk pathetic existence, so, this wednesday (23), i decided that i wanted to drink, so i bought 2 corotes (small bottles of cheap cachaça) and a cheap soda to water it down. I decided to drink at night, because y’know, it’s cool to drink at night. The night went on and I drank 1 corote. After a while, talking to my mother and my new stepfather, I realized that I wasn't very drunk. So you know what I decided to do??, drink the OTHER corote. I mean, it’s my drink and the sooner I can't get away from this mess,the better.

So i drank it. It was raining and it was leaking water inside my dark room from the optical fiber cable hole in my ceiling. I talked to some foreign dudes on omegle, realized that americans are talkative, british people are assholes, and that 99% of people on omegle just want to see boobs. I talked, watched some things I can't name on tumblr. Then like it happens all the time, I accidentally laid down in my bed and fell asleep. Woke up at 5am with my window open. Closed it and went to sleep for real, forgetting that there was a small plastic bottle of booze in my computer table. That was my doom.

I Woke up at 12am, with the absolute worst hangover I had ever had in my life. I struggled for almost 1 hour to get up from bed. When I finally get up, I decide to drink a bottle of water, because I'm thirsty and this hangover is starting to feel like a stroke. I finished my sip, and saw the worst view I could see that day. I saw the bottle of cachaça. In the middle of the room.

Since that day, I think my life is ruined, my mom is pissed at me, and doesn’t want to talk to me about it, since she wants to have a “sober, calm” conversation that I know will never happen. She still hasn’t called my father, but when she does, my relationship with him will be forever tarnished and I don't think I can look at him anymore. I woke up very depressed and cried for half of the day. I’m mentally exhausted and honestly I just want to die. I’m thinking about getting a full time job at some supermarket or industry, just so i can’t look at these people again and can finally disappear from life.

My life was finally starting to look bright, and now everything is going to shit because of 2 bottles of booze, this is the worst thing that could happen to me, sometimes i ask to myself, “and i’m sad because i regret it, or am i’m sad because i got caught”, well, i don’t know, but i’m know that i’m sad.

Unfortunately i have no more time, so the lesson of the story is, don’t drink, don’t do drugs, it’s going to fuck your life completely, directly or indirectly. My name is Ricardo dos Santos, and I hope you enjoy the first fortnightly recommendation review week. Thank you, and have fun.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7IQ9dpxxJY

#rant

0 notes

chateautae · 3 years

Text

maybe i do | kth. I

➵ summary : maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳ part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre : arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 11k

➵ warnings : swearing, alcohol consumption, anxiety, lots of feels about marriage, a stupid ex (reader’s), mentions of bad sexual experiences with ex (there’s consent, just bad sex that makes the reader feel shitty), does ceo tae count as a warning?

➵ a/n: hello my first fic of my favourite trope arranged marriage, AND with kim taehyung?? yes pls !! this will be a series and I’ll be actively working on it so you don’t have to wait too long for chapters, i hope you can follow this series with me <33

chapter one : “my forever’s falling down”

prev. ↞ || ↠ next || masterlist

“Another one, Father? I thought I told you my secretary would be handling marriage profiles from now on. Stop concerning yourself with who I marry.”

“But I do, son. Trust me, I know this girl, she’s the daughter of a trusted friend and I think she’s a good match.”

“Father, everyone you choose for me I dislike and it’s distracting me from my work. I don’t need this right now.”

“She’s different, Taehyung. I personally know her and I’m certain you won’t say no.”

“And why is that?”

“There’s something about her you won’t refuse, son, you’ll notice it when you meet her.”

“I don’t want to meet her, Father. Like I said, I need to work.”

“I just knew you’d act this way. Want to know something, son? I’ve made her part of a business deal, you can’t back out of this.”

“What? You made her part of a business deal?! Why would you-”

“Because you wouldn’t have given her a chance otherwise, you haven’t been giving anyone a chance since I’ve been setting up potential partners for you and I’m sick of it. You said you were open to an arranged marriage, where’s that attitude now?”

“Because, Father, I have a company to run and that’s-”

“No. I will not allow you to reduce your life to just this company. There are far more enjoyable things in life than a business.”

“But Father-”

“No, Taehyung. One thing you need to learn is balance. If you don’t give anyone or anything a chance you will live a lonely life behind your desk. Even in this cutthroat world of business where you can lose money or be betrayed by anyone at any moment, the most painful thing to suffer is loneliness, and I won’t let you live in this world alone.”

“Dad-”

“You will meet this girl, Taehyung, end of discussion.”

“Dad! I told you I want nothing to do with your company, how could you let me get dragged into this?!”

“Y/N-ie, I know you value the life you have without any of my help, but let me help just this once, especially with finding a husband. I’m being offered the deal of a lifetime and I can’t refuse, he just happens to be part of it. I need this for the company, please.”

“But Dad, I don’t even know him. And if he’s the CEO of some rich company he’s probably an asshole, I’m not doing this.”

“Y/N-ie, trust me, I know his son. He’s a sincere, hard-working man, I promise.”

“Yeah, right. Even if that’s the case, I still don’t know him, let alone love him, Dad. How can you make me marry someone I don’t love?”

“Because you can learn to love him. There are no rules concerning the way two people should fall in love, love doesn’t always need to come first.”

“But Dad-”

“My daughter, I have not asked you for many things in my life, but this is one thing I must ask of you. Please, just meet him, don’t say no without even trying.”

“Dad, I don’t know-”

“Please, Y.N, do it for me. If not for the company or money, please do it for me.”

And here you were, fidgeting with the tips of your nails, tuning in and out of the present world and overthinking every aspect of your life that somehow lead you to this moment. Sitting on a Leather Italia couch in what was described to be Mr. Kim’s study; listening to your father’s incessant, albeit wholesome chatter next to you with your future in-laws across.

And next to them was their suave, unreadable son sitting in a relaxed manner, flipping his attention between your fathers’ conversation and anything else in the room.

You on the other hand, were utterly high strung due to the fact that your father failed to mention your future fiancé’s identity until 30 minutes before arriving here, having done a quick search in the car to unveil who he exactly was.

And that’s when it hit you. You weren’t marrying just anyone, you were getting married to Kim Taehyung. The infamous CEO of Kim Enterprises—Korea’s largest software development and manufacturing company, rivaling to be one of the largest in the world. He was part of Seoul’s most prestigious circle of businessmen, having made multiple Forbes international lists of Most Successful, Youngest, Richest, and is even one of Korea’s most eligible bachelors, not just Seoul.

If this wasn’t already taking you out, then it was definitely the fact that his photos through a measly Google search did him absolutely, utterly and completely no justice. They simply could never capture the truth of just how handsome Kim Taehyung was in real life. You couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t just good-looking, he was stunning, gorgeous, seemed as though God had created the universe, heaven and hell in 6 days and left the 7th just to create him.

He was like a work of art, worthy of being placed in the finest of museums and left untouched, unsodden by the ugliness of humanity. It made you feel extremely inferior to him in an instant. It was sickening, he was sickening, intoxicating, and quite frankly, intimidating.

It was his look, his undivided stare when he eventually settled his sight on you. It didn’t matter his dark hair that landed and perfectly curled above his eyes, the way he occasionally licked his plush lips or how his long, tall legs spread out before him, it was his look that made you want to turn tail and run.

It seemed to reach into your soul, peer straight through whatever façade, walls or defense mechanisms you could spend years building only to have his simple look tear it down in minutes. He was alluring, captivating, left you wanting to cower into whatever hole you could dig yourself into or discover all the secrets he hid behind those enchanting eyes.

Kim Taehyung was many things you couldn’t quite wrap your head around, though you assessed your priorities and decided they didn’t just include him, but mainly the significance of the current meeting taking place right now.

It wasn’t a mere one-time business deal to discuss a project, it was a meeting that entailed the partnership of both your family companies and would define the next however many years of your life. More specifically, spending it with the exact same man that looked at you without a single readable expression on his face.

You distracted yourself by trying to observe as many useless things as you could, flitting around the room many times before suddenly glancing at Taehyung’s index finger coming up to rest against his lips.

You zeroed your vision in more.

Is that a cut on his finger?

“Jae-in, of course! This is just as important to me as it is to you, your son is a remarkable CEO, and I’m sure he’ll make an amazing husband.”

“Aish, Namhyun, you flatter me too much. My son may be handsome, though your daughter is even more beautiful. I’m very sure she will make a wonderful wife.”

“Yes, Namhyun, your daughter is absolutely gorgeous! Just as gorgeous as her mother. I know she wasn’t able to make it, though may I ask where your wife is tonight?”

“Ah, unfortunately, she’s out of the country. Though I was hoping my presence would be enough to fill in for her, am I doing a bad job?”

Laughter erupted from the parents in the room, meanwhile, Taehyung couldn’t help but notice the way you immediately winced at the mention of your mother. Something he definitely wouldn’t miss with the way he found himself examining your every move.

It was habitual to him, something born out of his roots in business, only for the purpose of calculating and reading people like an open book.

He knew you’d also become victim to that habit, though oddly enough, he found himself quite interested in observing you. He had already figured you out; you hated business, there was a clear disconnection between yourself and your father’s company and you reeked of a sense of independence that funnily contradicted the antsy way you bounced your leg.

Your way of speech, however, mannerisms, gestures, your look; it was all professional enough you clearly have some sort of background in business. You seemed like an heiress to Taehyung, which you were, though you oddly had no interest in business?

All these details piqued his interest, curious of just who you exactly were, but he was mainly intrigued by the mysterious claim his father made upon mentioning you for the first time.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

That had raked Taehyung’s brain consistently for the past hour now, crossing his legs loosely and his arms folded over his chest, contemplating over and over again as he looked at you, what’s so damn special about her?

‘You’ll notice it when you meet her,’ the words rang in his ears.

That was the driving force behind his calculation, observation, near inability to take his eyes off of you as he learned new things nearly every minute and led him closer to understanding his father.

He could tell you were an anxious person, though hid it behind a persona of false confidence. You had a tendency to stick close to your father despite observing you don’t rely on him for much of anything, even less your mother. The softness behind your every movement despite being from a business background where you should be harsh, rigid, rough around the edges, and yet you seemed entirely different.

Taehyung then realized how inherently dissimilar you were to many of the other women he met. They were all relatively of the same cut and look. Cold, sharp, cunning. All women of pure business; daughters, granddaughters or straight CEOs of wealthy companies, simply interested in marriage as a deal or an advantage rather than a commitment.

And there was absolutely nothing wrong with that. Taehyung was a man of business himself, married to his work, his home behind a desk and the company the only thought occupying his mind 24/7.

But with you, you were interesting, unlike the others and it made him curious.

Taehyung also couldn’t help but notice you were...pretty. You weren’t too overly sexy nor too innocent, you were pretty. There was an elegance to your looks, features like your hair and eyes complementing you as a whole, and he couldn’t miss that you felt oddly...warm.

Taehyung found himself beginning to understand his father’s original viewpoint, considering the possibility he could’ve been correct.

You just seemed different.

“Ah, that seems to be everything. Exact details about the wedding have already been put in place by us.”

“Yes! We’ve been waiting for our TaeTae to get married for so long. We’ve had plans for months now and we can finally move forward with them! You and Y/N don’t need to worry about anything!”

“Mom, did you really just call me that in front of my future fiancé?”

“Oh, let it go, son. It won't be long before she calls you that, too!”

Taehyung could only playfully roll his eyes at his overly excited mother, you scrunching your nose at the embarrassment.

“That’s incredibly generous of you, Mr. and Mrs. Kim, though my conscience is not one to let such things go. My family should contribute to the wedding in some way. Y/N and I would be happy to do so.”

“Why don’t we discuss that outside? I believe we should give the future couple some time alone, shall we?”

You and Taehyung exchanged a quick look before standing up and respectively addressing either’s parents, Taehyung shutting the door behind them once they exited and having turned to look at you, an awkward silence piercing the air.

There it was again, his look. It was irrefutably the one reason you avoided eye contact with him, you felt he would swallow you up if you shared even 5 seconds between each other.

“So...” Taehyung suddenly broke the ice, eyeing you.

“So...”

“Marriage, huh?”

“Yeah, marriage. Never done that one before.” If there wasn’t a time you vehemently hated yourself, then it was undoubtedly now. You internally facepalmed at your dumb comment, adding a laugh at the end in embarrassment only to look away.

“Uh..yeah.” Taehyung laughed awkwardly. “Me neither, if you didn’t already know.” He tucked his hands into his pockets and looked away, you fidgeting by the couches everyone previously occupied.

A beat of silence passed as you both exchanged looks between objects in the room and each other, either of you pursing your lips or blowing light raspberries to cut the awkwardness.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Hm?” You turned towards him, lips just a pout as your doe-eyes awaited him.

Taehyung didn’t miss that at all.

“Um, your mother. I apologize if this is intrusive of me, though I couldn’t help but notice I’ve never actually met her. May I ask where she is?”

You let out a dry chuckle before answering, another detail that didn’t slip Taehyung’s attention. “Trust me, Taehyung, one thing you’ll never have to worry about during this entire ordeal is my mother. She should be the last thing on your mind.” You assured him with what he could tell was your fakest smile, distracting him from the realization you’d said his name for the first time.

“Are you sure? I’ll be meeting her at the wedding so-”

“You won’t. I don’t think you will. Even if she does make it, it takes very little to impress her, just be yourself and she’ll love you.” You stated with a sense of finality, as though the topic should be dropped.

“Be myself? I’m one of the best businessmen in Korea. It’s my job to get people to like me, easy stuff.” He casually gloated.

“You don’t only have to be a businessman to do that,” you paused and looked at him, “you can just be Kim Taehyung, too.” You spoke nonchalantly, eyes lingering with his for longer than 5 seconds and he, in fact, had not swallowed you yet.

Taehyung instantly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback as if your suggestion was something outlandish, absurd, maybe even offending.

Nobody has ever said such a thing to him, not throughout the entirety of his life.

Taehyung tried his best to recover, searching for another topic of conversation before he was cut off by your rather soft voice, he noticed.

“Oh, I wanted to give you this.” You stepped towards him, reaching into your purse and retrieving something Taehyung couldn’t quite see. You strided over and extended your hand, Taehyung finding himself even more confused.

“A bandage?”

“Mhm. For the cut on your finger. You should probably clean it and apply something before putting this on.” You stated nonchalantly once again, offering him a small smile whilst holding out the bandage.

“Uh...” Taehyung started but couldn’t complete his sentence, lost on how you even observed something as small as his cut and spoke of treating it like it was an actual injury.

After his struggle to form a sentence, you grew bold enough to gently remove his hand from his pocket and place the bandage in his palm, looking back up at him. You shared a momentary look with his chocolate eyes, instantly scrambling after realizing your hand was still in his.

He has really big hands.

“We should um...probably go.” You avoided his eyes, stepping aside quickly to pull the door open.

Taehyung’s mind felt displaced, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the fact that someone had actually left him with nothing to say, an extremely rare occurrence in his book.

He was even more displaced looking at the measly wrapper in his hand, then at the cut on the side of his finger, playing through the last 5 minutes of what just happened.

He scoffed to himself.

‘There’s something about her you won’t refuse.’

It had been 3 weeks since that meeting, not having seen Taehyung once as you wasted your time enjoying single life luxuries before you prepared for one of marriage.

It still felt odd to say such a thing, marriage, because it didn’t even feel like one, or a real one at that. It was forced, fake, a pressured one out of convenience. It felt more like a deal, something Taehyung and yourself had to settle for in order to keep your parents’ minds at ease.

That thought racked your brain all those 3 weeks; Taehyung had to settle for you, he didn’t choose you, just as much as you settled for him and didn’t choose him either. You both had ultimately agreed to the marriage only in an effort to optimize your parents’ happiness, not your own.

You had no clue how he felt, a mystery as much as the Bermuda Triangle, knowing he most certainly had a grand pick of women to choose from and you were most definitely his worst option.

You knew you were suddenly dumped on him, leaving him no choice in the matter as you learned your marriage entailed a beneficial business deal between your fathers’ companies, and Taehyung couldn’t really refuse you with so much on the line.

You had already felt inferior to Taehyung since the moment you met him, though your insecurities seeped further into the crevices of your doubtful mind the more you thought over that sad fact, contemplating a married life with him. In your opinion you were pretty much undesirable to him, Taehyung probably kicking himself knowing he had to unwillingly call you his wife for the rest of his life.

You just knew you weren’t good enough for him, you would never measure up no matter how hard you’d try and that utterly terrified you. You were confident and independent when it came to yourself, though wedding a near perfect being regarded as one of Seoul’s finest in terms of a CEO and a man?

Confidence be damned, this dude was intimidating.

These were the feelings that swarmed your head as you sulked at your over-the-top engagement party, set up in a prestigious buildings’ gorgeous 37th floor riddled with baroque styling and embellishments, classical music gracing some of Seoul’s wealthiest patrons as their flutes clinked and snobby chatter filled the hall.

It was all extremely high-status, reeking of upper class supremacy and quite frankly, it made you want to throw up.

You distracted yourself by bringing any and all types of alcohol to your lips, trying to focus on anything but your daunting thoughts.

The entire night you hadn’t talked to Taehyung, both of you having been too occupied with the numerous amounts of people meeting and congratulating you. This became a genuine nuisance as you’d mentioned before, this marriage was of convenience, one that brought families and companies together merrily and constituted hundreds of people attending your engagement party you didn’t really know.

Your friends were excited, over-the-moon you bagged a man like Taehyung and chastised you for not having told them about your engagement to him earlier. Your relatives similarly scolded you, pinching your cheeks and praising Taehyung like he was a God while they scrunched their noses at you for concealing him.

How could I tell you when I didn’t even know myself?, you thought.

It was funny they praised your ‘choice’ of a fiancé, positive nobody was saying the same to Taehyung without at least lying. The public only knew of you as your father’s daughter, never having seen you due to your vehement absence from anything remotely related to his company, and much of the business world in general.

You weren’t part of that world, a world of greed and money-driven lunatics. It just wasn't you. It never suited you, left you with a bad taste in your mouth you constantly grimaced at and thought maybe you were the insane one for not understanding its flavour. As you grew older, however, you came to realize it simply wasn’t the path meant for you, someone who valued the independence and achievement of earning something for yourself, by yourself.

Ever since the inception of that principal, your young teenage self resolved you didn’t want to rely on your father’s wealth, especially not his influence or power to achieve your own place in life.

Your father had worked determinedly hard for years in order to stand as high he does now, warranting your acute admiration for your role model of a father, his now successful architecture business landing him a few buildings part of the Seoul skyline.

And after finally achieving his dream, it suddenly morphed into your own aspiration. His hard work drove you to want your own design part of Seoul’s breathtaking scenery as well, by means of your own effort, your own hard work. You didn’t want your father’s help. It felt wrong, like you were cheating if you used him to gain your place and so you condemned your life to one that separated yours and his.

So you lived, worked and earned money without any of his influence.

You worked for an average architecture company where you felt comfortable, happy that you were away from the suffocating high-status business of your family. And although your detachment left your identity a mystery to many, your situation on the other hand was an extremely infamous one.

‘The-runaway-heiress’, was your staple trademark. The judgmental comments about your choice of life and the insults it warranted were never-ending, subjected to that criticism all your life.

There was no doubt Taehyung was hearing all of that, people probably warning him to step out of the marriage before it was too late. You weren’t like Taehyung, who was perfect, desirable, someone everyone either wanted or wanted to be. It left you glad and quite frankly, proud to be wedding a man of such caliber and incredibility, though left you wondering why in God’s name he would ever agree to marry someone like you; average, average and well, average.

“That’s your 5th shot, Y/N, slow the fuck down.” Your best friend Hana’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, snatching the shot glass from your grasp. “It wouldn’t be cool if you were trashed at your own party, dummy.”

Her sudden appearance brought a smile to your face. “I know, I just don’t feel well.” You sighed by the counter of the bar, seated atop a stool as you circled an empty shot glass mindlessly.

“I get you, there’s like, hundreds of people here and you’re probably hearing a lot of different shit.” Hana appealed to you, having read your emotions like an open book. “Speaking of people, I wanted to ask, what’s up with Taehyung and his stare?”

You stifled a snort, looking at Hana’s incredulous face. “It’s just a habit of his. He stares at everyone.”

“Okay... sure, but I didn’t mean everyone, I meant you.” Hana emphasized, comically pointing.

You furrowed your eyebrows at her, arm leaning against the bar’s counter as you questioned, “What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really stop staring at you, which is kinda weird. Unless you like that, I don’t judge people’s kinks.” Hana mockingly held her hands up in surrender, gauging a reaction out of you.

You instantly grimaced, “It’s not a kink, Hana. Nice joke by the way, wanna sign up for SNL with that one?”

“I’m serious! I’ve been catching him just looking at you and I don’t know if it’s weird or hot.” Hana informed as you became more puzzled, her becoming oddly excited, “Awh, maybe he’s concerned with how much you keep drinking! That’s so romantic.” She chimed, looking off into the distance dreamily.

“Shut the fuck up, he wouldn’t do that.” You smacked her arm, snatching your shot glass back from her. “Besides, you’re one of the rare people who knows this marriage is fake, you know he doesn’t care.”

“Jheez, way to kill romance?” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking your arm in rebuttal before continuing. “I’m serious, though. This may be fake but he really does keep looking at you, and I don’t know what it means.” Hana speculated, contorting her lips as if in thought.

“It means nothing, Hana. You’re just seeing things.”

“Then why has he been staring at you depressed by the bar for the last half an hour?”

You nearly spit out your drink, “What?”

“Are you clueless or just dumb? He’s been talking to someone for 30 minutes but most of the time he’s been looking at you, and he still is, how haven’t you noticed?”

You creased your eyebrows in surprise as you slowly lowered your shot glass. You turned away from Hana to scan the small crowds of people mingling, eating, drinking in the hall.

You searched the room, drink still in hand until your eyes caught tall, dark and handsome in his finely pressed suit, casually standing with a drink in his hand by a table speaking to someone. You nearly jumped when your eyes locked with Taehyung’s, every cell in your body caught off guard.

What made your heart specifically race was the way he didn’t even look away from you. He held your gaze, casually conversing with the person in front of him, eyeing you until he finally cracked a small smirk before turning back to his companion.

Your eyebrows practically shot up to the sky.

“See, weird or hot? Am I even allowed to say hot?” Hana blurted as she reveled in your reaction. “And you really thought I was joking. You don’t believe anything I say, I could tell you the world’s ending and you wouldn’t believe me. I could tell you aliens finally invaded the planet and you wouldn’t believe me until the green motherfuckers knocked on your door themselves and-”

“Hana, shut the fuck up.” You cut her off abruptly and made a face at her. “Why did you even come here?”

“Grumpy, aren’t we?” She flashed you a sarcastic look before sighing. “Your dad wanted me to find you. You and Taehyung have to meet someone important, so you should stop drinking like an alcoholic, dumbass.” Hana informed hastily as she grabbed the shot glass from you and downed it herself.

“Your dad’s by the entrance, go before he gets mad!” She shooed you away, pushing you up until you whisper-yelled and smacked at her to let you go.

You began stepping towards the entrance, smoothing over your dress and this was the moment you realized you may have drank a little too much. You were quick to reprimand yourself, cursing your unprofessional behavior as your inner equilibrium became slightly woozy, senses drowning out a bit, every sound hazed over with a buzz in your veins.

You sucked in a breath to pull yourself together, knowing your dad valued this person enough you and Taehyung had to meet them together.

Taehyung.

You decided to glance in his direction, lips pursing seeing he wasn’t in his previous spot. You chose to ignore it, walking along until you felt a looming presence behind you, almost having time to acknowledge it before a hand suddenly touched the small of your back.

“Looking for me?”

You nearly squealed, jumping with a hand ready to punish before calming down at the sight of Taehyung, sighing with relief. “Jheez, could you use my name? I thought you were a stranger.”

“Well, hello to you too.” Taehyung quipped sarcastically. “And why would a stranger touch your back? Of course it’d be the only man in this room marrying you.” Taehyung narrowly eyed you, scrutinizing your reaction with his hand still pressed to you.

“People do a lot of whatever the hell they want, Taehyung.” You responded turning away from him, heels clacking as you continued to pace towards where your father stood. “W-why’d you do that, anyway?”

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows. “Because we’re engaged?”

“It’s not real, though.”

“It’s as real as it gets.” Taehyung finalized, making it a statement to smile at everyone you passed, to which you realized just how many pairs of eyes glued themselves to you. “This may not feel like a real marriage to us, but to the rest of the world it is.”

He then suddenly leaned himself down to your height and lowered his tone, breath just ghosting your ear. “Y/N, we have to make this seem real, it’s the only way we’ll survive.” Taehyung was the closest he’s ever been to you, and the deep baritone of his voice as he called your name did absolutely nothing but manifest butterflies in your chest.

Why was his voice so deep?

You shook the thought out of your head, ultimately choosing not to say anything because he was in fact, correct. You grinned widely continuing to mask the truth of your arrangements, leaning into him more as you settled for his hand on your back.

You’d noticed it before, but his hand felt particularly large against you now that he was so close. You glanced at his other hand resting by his side, impressed by how masculine they appeared; long fingers with running veins and a roughness to them, sculpted so well you were sure they deserved to be referred to as art. It tickled your giddy side for a second when they seemed to perfectly contrast your more feminine and smaller hands.

It was kinda cute.

You neglected your thoughts once you neared your father, warm-heartedly conversing with a well-dressed man you just about recognized.

“Ah, there you both are!” Your father cheered, reaching out his arm so he could envelop you in a side-hug, returning Taehyung’s bow and addressment.

“Dad, I heard you wanted us to meet someone?” You perked up in a superficial tone, at least attempting to act as though everything was fine and dandy in your life; maybe owing it to the alcohol to endure all the falsehoods.

“Yes, Y/N-ie, I wanted you to meet Mr. Won. Chang-in, my lovely daughter and whom I guess you already know, her fiancé and CEO of Kim Enterprises, Kim Taehyung.” Your father proudly presented you both.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Won, Kim Taehyung.” Taehyung was the first to address the man, extending his hand and bowing as he greeted him. You were almost taken aback by how polite he could be, the way his charming smile graced his features and attractively displayed his perfect teeth. His manner of speech and etiquette were all refined with a high degree of professionalism as well, internally gawking at his duality.

Wasn’t he acting all entitled with you just now?

“Nice to meet you as well!” You collected yourself and cheered, a little baffled as to why Taehyung still rested his hand against your back. “I’m hoping my father has only said good things.” You earned a laugh from the group, Mr. Won responding by receiving your hand with a firm shake.

“Ah, Namhyun, you forgot to mention how beautiful your daughter has grown, and your future son-in-law has me jealous! What a handsome and accomplished young man, the perfect match, the two of them.” Mr. Won praised you both kindly.

You and Taehyung both smiled and thanked him humbly, feeling some heat collect in your cheeks upon Mr. Won’s words. You two? The perfect match? Unless he believes a rock and a Greek statue belong together, then he’s absolutely correct.

Other than that, you chest swarms with butterflies thinking you’re now referred to as ‘two’.

Taehyung for some odd reason encircles the curve of your waist suddenly, pulling you closer to him. You last minute sputter at the intimate action before leaning into him, one arm nervously encasing his torso as the other rests against his chest.

You feel him tense underneath you.

“Aish, you’re such a flatterer. Y/N-ie, do you remember Mr. Won? My friend from university? You haven’t seen him in a while.” Your father rested a hand on your shoulder, trying to jog your memory.

“Oh, you mean Mr. Won from SNU?” You suddenly remembered, looking to your father for confirmation.

“Yes, so you do remember!”

“Of course I do, how could I forget!” You smiled brightly and returned your gaze to the familiar man. “Mr. Won used to sneak me ice cream when you wouldn’t let me have any, Dad.” You scolded him with a playful jab to his arm, inviting more laughter. “I apologize for not recognizing you right away, it’s been a long time, Mr. Won, forgive me.” You solemnly apologized, Mr. Won giving you a look of understanding.

“Ah, forget it, Y/N. Don’t worry about it, although since it’s been a long time I hope you remember my son? He should be here somewhere..” Mr. Won trailed as his eyes fished over the grand hall, scanning around.

“Your son..” You repeated to yourself, realizing there was a familiar connection itching at your mind, he was your age actually-

Wait.

Oh God, not him.

Anything but him.

You felt raw panic seep into the spaces between your ribs, your chest filling with a constricting feeling of anxiety you couldn't shake off. Your heart picked up speed and the alcohol coursing through your veins didn’t help your judgement or memory at all, mind fogged over with the poison we dare call alcohol.

You felt stupid, so utterly stupid. How could you forget Mr. Won and who his Godforsaken son was?

You felt an anxiety attack riddling you, shifting your weight on your feet as you tried to bite back your uneven breathing. You just couldn’t see this man, especially in a situation where you were standing next to your husband-to-be.

Taehyung wasn’t so invested in the conversation before him, mindlessly nodding along before he felt you physically freeze next to him, his glance to the side confirming your pale look, watching as your panicked eyes faltered to the floor and revealed... fear?

He registered your odd shifting and your failed attempts at plastering a smile, confused if you knew this guy and if you did, why were you freaking out so much?

Were you in love with him or something?

The thought minutely bugged him until he watched you turn straight up uncomfortable, horrified when Mr. Won called out his son’s name.

“Kiseok-ah! Come here!”

You stopped breathing when you heard the name, eyes going wide as you avoided eye contact with anyone in the group, but caught Taehyung’s undivided attention. He grew curious when Kiseok sauntered over to the group, your hand on his chest suddenly squeezing his suit as the mysterious man greeted everyone respectfully.

Taehyung watched as his intrigued eyes locked on you, eyebrows perking up amusedly as his lips curved into a smile Taehyung honestly couldn’t admit to liking.

“Y/N? Wow, long time no see. It’s been what, a year?” The man Kiseok called out happily, like there was absolutely no problem occurring here but as Taehyung felt your hand clutch onto his suit, lips just about quivering before you forced a smile, he knew there was most certainly a problem.

“Yeah.” Your voice was weak, small, and Taehyung found himself wondering how a courageous person like you was all of a sudden cowering.

He’d heard it all night, all the accounts of your other life away from the business world. He wasn’t going to lie, he heard a multitude of opinions concerning you, many of which including either looking down on you or telling Taehyung there’s many other, more powerful women in business he could’ve been marrying instead.

But Taehyung didn’t care for their opinions, he found you the most powerful woman he could ever marry, and agreed to do so because of that very prospect. Sure, you were estranged from the business scene and practically abandoned any role you’d play in your father’s company in order to pursue your own personal aspirations, but if anything, Taehyung found it highly commendable.

Taehyung knew it took guts to do what you did, a bold and daring act that no other heir or future heir of a wealthy company could ever think of doing, including himself.

What he found to appreciate most was your unwillingness to give in, where you had to have heard all the back-handed and snobby comments, yet you still held your head up high, remained rooted and adamant in keeping your current way of life. It instantly signaled to him you were courageous, fearless, unable to be stopped in your tracks.

So when he watched you become smaller and smaller the more you stood in the vicinity of this Kiseok, he knew something was sincerely wrong.

“Ah yes, it’s been quite some time. Why don’t we step away from you three? You could do some catching up.” Your father urged as he motioned Mr. Won to step away with him. You lightly addressed them only to have your hands neglect Taehyung entirely and start fidgeting, attempting to calm your nerves as the alcohol inebriated your system and magnified your anxiety by tenfold.

“Ah, yes, Kim Taehyung, CEO of Kim Enterprises. I’ve been meaning to meet you.” Kiseok extended his hand as his voice irked you with every syllable, trying your best to seem like absolutely nothing was wrong.

Taehyung reached out his hand in response uneagerly, giving a small shake while wondering why you let him go. “That’s news to me, nice to meet you.” Taehyung responded, already feeling an intense aura of discomfort and tension between you both, sensing he was missing out on something that seemed 6 ft deep.

“Likewise. Y/N..” Kiseok suddenly turned towards you, making you wince. You painted on your smile as you lifted your vision. “Kiseok.”

“How’ve you been?”

“Better than ever. You?”

“Marvelous, just wondering what your life’s looked like since I haven’t been in it.”

“I believe I said better than ever, didn’t I?”

Kiseok scoffed unamused, “So a year, huh? In all that time you suddenly found yourself a fiancé, and Kim Taehyung at that?” Kiseok seemed to be making light-hearted conversation to anyone outside of your group, though you knew deep down the hostility behind his words.

“Yeah, I did. It just happened.” You shrugged, gaining the confidence to counter him. “And you? Plan on putting a ring on any of your girls? Maybe the 5th or 7th one you liked?” You sarcastically questioned, furrowing your brows in mock contemplation.

“No, you know I’ve always had my eye on one girl when it came to marriage.” Kiseok eyed you knowingly, purposefully, like he was trying to make it obvious.

You snorted and glared at him, “If I remember correctly, your attitude said otherwise.” hatred began boiling under your skin. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second, memories between you two coming back in flashes. You didn’t even realize you were shaking until Taehyung’s hand suddenly entangled with yours, pulling you towards him almost defensively.

You were surprised, looking at your connected hands and back up at Taehyung. He returned your look, peering down at you as he smiled warmly, affectionately.

“I’m sorry, Kisook? Was it? My future wife and I have plans for tonight. May you excuse us?” Taehyung didn’t even let Kiseok respond before he was pulling you away, in complete shock at his first lack of manners you’d ever seen. You were only left to watch Taehyung as he lead you along, gaining the timely opportunity to realize he was taller than Kiseok, and in fact significantly taller than you.

Taehyung was a large man in general, you noticed. His shoulders looked broad from behind, accentuated by the fit of his suit which also emphasized the expanse of his chest, tastefully exposing his sculpted neck. His legs were long, proportioned perfectly in accordance with the rest of his model-like figure, which was ideally fit and contained just the right amount of muscle.

Dear God, you took your time with this one.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had pulled you into a secluded hallway or that you were ogling him when he suddenly stopped, turning in your direction and snapping you out of a near fever dream.

Yeah, alcohol was not a good idea tonight.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“What?”

“That douche, who was that?” Taehyung inquired slightly pissed, in need of the asshole’s identity after watching whatever shitshow he didn’t pay for.

“Nobody, Taehyung, he shouldn’t concern you.” You looked away from him, pouting in a way that made Taehyung momentarily notice the plush of your lips.

Again?, was all he could think, first, your mother, and now this guy? Just how many people did you have bad connections with and he needed to ignore?

Why were there so many intricate pieces to you?

“Are you kidding me? He concerns me now, your mother I can understand but this guy? Nothing to me. I could step on him.” Taehyung proclaimed confidently and stood up broader, conviction written all over his face.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his remark, resembling the thought you had earlier. “I was just thinking, you’re a lot taller than him.”

Taehyung couldn’t help but bite back a smile, watching you giggle like a shy high schooler and his ears gladly welcomed the soft sound. “Damn straight I am.” He adjusted the jacket of his suit suavely. It was then he remembered what his other hand was doing; still holding yours.

His eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief.

He squeezed your hand a little tighter and yanked you towards him, bodies just centimeters apart as you crashed into him, all up in each other’s personal space.

Your eyes widened in complete surprise.

“So you were thinking about me, huh?” Taehyung teased with a stupidly lowered tone, a smug grin decorating his face.

You ignored the electricity shooting through you, rolling your eyes and playfully sneering at him. “Shut up, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see you’re taller.” You forced space between you two and tried snatching your hand from him, but his grip transformed into an iron lock.

“Says the one who was thinking about me.”

“Taehyung, shut-” You almost huffed out but as soon as you stepped away, your copious consumption of alcohol suddenly attacked you all at once, vertigo making you lose your balance until Taehyung reached out to steady you.

“Jheez, did you have to drink tonight?” Taehyung chastised you as you fell into him, head spinning with disorientation and growing flimsier by the second. “You’re probably a lightweight at your size.”

“I am not a lightweight. You don’t even know how much I drank, it was a lot.” You bit back in rebuttal, hooking onto his taut forearms as he supported you.

“But I did see.” He voiced barely above a whisper, causing you to snap your vision up at him incredulously. “What?”

“Nothing, it shouldn’t concern you.” Taehyung mocked, though still tried to fix you onto your own footing.

You didn’t even get to scrutinize him further when you felt another round of dizziness plague you, balance faltering again. Taehyung huffed out and finally flanked you on his side, arm encasing your shoulders as he adjusted you. “Okay Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, you should eat something.” He fit you beside him, beginning to walk you towards the main hall.

Taehyung in this moment didn’t understand what he was doing, utterly clueless as to what was fueling his actions. He was uncertain why he found himself.. caring? He didn’t even know you, yet he couldn’t help but become a little concerned when he watched you down drinks like it was New Year’s Eve.

How can all that alcohol fit into one tiny person?

What was he even thinking when he dragged you away from that Kisuk guy? Why did he feel like protecting you all of a sudden? A near sense of possessiveness? He wasn’t even your real husband.

It started giving Taehyung a headache. This was all strange, a foreign concept he wasn’t familiar with and he didn’t know if it was the result of his considerate personality or only manifested solely because of you.

The same way Taehyung dealt with his inner turmoil, you dealt with yours; you were always so adamant on independence though ironically found yourself leaning on Taehyung.

Oddly, you let him carefully guide you back into the hall with no protests.

It was the day of the wedding.

You wish you could recall your emotions throughout the day, certain there would be at least a sliver of a positive one. Though as you remained unmoving, nearly catatonic, unresponsive to your surroundings, you knew there wouldn’t be a single happy memory in the tsunami of sorrow that attacked you today.

Emotions of grief plagued consistently as you realized the loss of everything you valued most in your life. Your happiness, your freedom, your ability to choose. The stripping of all those bundled into an stifling wad in your chest that left you in a perpetual state of wanting to cry.

The sting in your heart when you realized your mother didn’t bother to come, the excruciating smile you forced onto your features when Taehyung’s mother delicately placed the veil atop your head, the secret tears you shed after adorning your body with a wedding dress you didn’t even choose; it all left you internalizing feelings of utter agony.

And none of it was your real choice.

Even the flowers at the wedding weren’t your favourite.

This day was horrifying. You couldn’t believe you prided yourself on your independence, refusing to give in despite numerous challenges and never taking a word of what anyone said to you. Even when someone begged you to change or come back to your old life, you always chose for yourself. You never allowed someone to push you around, seldom coerced into anything solely based on the wishes of another.

Yet here you were, standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having easily followed every word of your father’s and sacrificed your deepest principles in order to make him happy, to appease and live up to his expectations that weren’t your own.

It was utterly frightening, appalling. As if you had lost the one true commendable feature of the intricate character you were, suddenly lost the acclamation of others even if they didn’t know the true nature of your marriage.

But what disgusted you the most was truly, that you had lost respect for yourself.

These grim thoughts were the ones that attached themselves to you as you hesitantly hooked your arm with your father’s. You used every ounce of strength to not flee, to remain here, to still walk down that isle with your head held high like you always have despite abandoning every foundation of the character you’d spent years working on.

You didn’t care that your eyes watered, masking them with the facade of happy tears from the blushing bride. You didn’t care when your father looked incredibly concerned and wondered what was so wrong, you didn’t care how sorrowful you may have appeared to anyone at this ironically glamorous event.

Though what you did care for was that you couldn’t hold your head up as you walked down the isle, vision fixated on the ground as your tears betrayed you, spilling out at the traumatizing feeling of not being able to stand tall like you always did, something stripping you of your self-reassurance, your strength, your confidence.

It all spelled the requiem of your soul as you reached the end, dwelling in the impossibility this was happening to you until you felt the touch of Taehyung’s fingertips, guiding you up the stairs. It was then confirmed to you this was in fact real, part of your new reality you had no choice but to accept.

You suddenly felt eternal gratitude for the veil that now covered your face, hiding the tears you cried at mourning the loss of everything you worked for.

While the priest’s words were read, you didn’t exchange a single look with Taehyung, knowing you’d only want to evaporate into the air, to run away at light speed or have someone in a turn-of-events suddenly take your life, just so you didn't have to face the humility of giving up the life you’d spent blood, sweat and tears building if you looked him in the eye.

You felt the weight of your unknown future crushing you, pushing you towards the precipice as you gripped Taehyung’s hands harder to ground yourself.

You were to rely on Taehyung, to share a bond with him you had never spent time cultivating, expected to live a life next to him while never being able to truly understand him, know him, love him. The natural process of falling in love now tainted with the coercion of a pressurized marriage, losing the opportunity to achieve any true sense of love. You’d never experience finding the one anymore, your soulmate, the other end of your red string of fate.

That realization made your tears spill harder, disconnecting your hand from Taehyung’s to prevent your choked sobs becoming audible, holding your palm against your quivering lips.

To anyone beyond you and Taehyung, it would look as though you were crying tears of happiness, joyously weeping at your matrimony with the love of your life, though as Taehyung felt the shaking of your hands, your refusal to meet his gaze as you reluctantly walked down the isle, the agonizing pain he could see through the sheer of your veil, he knew you were far from happy.

He couldn’t help but purse his lips together tightly, knowing you were probably swallowing insurmountable torment down your throat because of this marriage, and tears pricked at his own eyes finding himself able to relate.

He wasn’t just upset for you or himself, it was the entire situation, quite frankly the fucking world. The fact that the universe planned this as your destiny, his destiny, that the happiness of your parents and two companies came at the expense of both yours and his.

He knew you didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t the reason just as much as you weren’t the reason either, it was the arbitrary nature of the arrangement. That whatever version of true love and happily ever after you and Taehyung had separately dreamed of, it could never come to life.

Even if the company meant everything to Taehyung, his CEO position more important than whatever position he’d play as some husband, seldom having time to consider love and relationships, he still harboured the same wants and desires any human would. A partner, a companion he truly loved with whom he’d start a family eventually, create a life for them and himself defined by love and comfort.

Though Taehyung only knew now you would both die with your decision-making capabilities robbed of you, bound to each other forcibly without the ardor of real love.

Taehyung’s every thought was proven correct when the two of you exchanged your vows in near strangled chokes and shaky tones, appearing as happy emotions to the guests of the wedding though only you two knowledgeable of each other’s suffering.

Your vision finally met Taehyung’s once you heard the rawness in his voice, your miserable emotions doubling when you registered he was just in the same pain as you. It was in that moment the priest’s words became audible and rang loud in both your ears, suddenly grounding you two to earth and reminding you of your reality.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Both of your eyes grievously locked for a moment of horrified realization; that you were seconds away from going through with this, throwing each other’s lives away for the utilitarian benefit, abandoning any sense of choice in whom you both would spend a lifetime with.

Taehyung swallowed thickly as he removed your veil, feeling his eyes fill with tears again when he laid them upon your utterly devastated, tear-stained face. You were using every nerve in your body to stop yourself from sobbing and caving into the ominous thought of fleeing the ceremony.

Taehyung’s sight wondered to your lips as they still quivered, nearly swollen red at the intensity in which you bit them, awaiting the kiss you were certain would be filled with frustration and hatred, hatred for the mud you were dragging him through, hatred for pressuring him into suddenly valuing something more than his work and his company, to suddenly become a husband to you.

Though as he watched the terror flashing through your eyes, tears watering your lash line, he knew he could never feel anything so ardently negative towards you, remembering exactly what he was stripping you of.

The life you built on your own, defying any and everyone’s expectations of yourself, cursing your heir status to hell, your strength, your independence. Now? Your life was bound to his, bound to one where you were obliged to sacrifice yourself for your father’s company and the upper class cesspool you’d spent so long trying to run away from.

So as Taehyung began closing the gap between you two, nearing your shaking figure, he resolved he wouldn’t make this hard. He would try, try to accept that his life now entailed you, would try to work towards the balance his father insisted he needed, try to understand that you were now part of his priorities and could never simply ignore you.

He glided his thumbs against the back of your hands that held his pacifyingly, leaning down until he was just inches from your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. He unexpectedly spoke quietly, meaningfully, seconds away from sealing the deal of an uncertain future, though, remained certain of this one thing.

“I’ll take care of you, Y/N, I promise.” And he kissed you in a single breath, no haste, no pressure, only the gentle touch of his lips as they met yours, soft and light.

Maybe Taehyung didn’t know the exact feelings behind his promise, but he knew the meaning; that no matter the arrangement, the non-existent feelings, the loss of choice, he would at least take care of you like any husband would, a good husband.

He at least owed you that.

You were left shocked at the nature of his kiss, Taehyung’s warm lips connecting with yours tenderly. You were convinced the tears you saw in his eyes were enough to assert he hated this, frustrated he had to sell his soul, wishing to only rush the kiss so he could call it a day and ignore you for the rest of his life.

Though what you never expected was the promise he made, or the way he kissed you with such intimacy you found yourself melting into his touch, reciprocating. He kissed you like you were fragile, locking your lips in a way that solidified his promise, as if out of all the empty vows you spoke today, this was the one, true vow he would keep. His lips felt plush against yours, catching his mouth just a little more before the bittersweet disconnection.

You and Taehyung exchanged a poignant look, small smiles decorating both your faces with a mutual understanding swimming in your eyes as you gripped each other’s hands. You let his promise permeate the air between you two, finding solace in his words as the applause of everyone attending the ceremony filled the hall.

Maybe it was the warm way Taehyung always pressed his hand to the small of your back when you spoke to others the whole night, maybe the way he veered you away from excessive amounts of alcohol with a light-hearted scolding considering that last time you drank, or maybe even the way he gently held you during your first dance..

Maybe it was all these considerate, kinds act that made you view Taehyung in a less negative light and rather a favourable one, that maybe he wouldn’t be the asshole CEO you’d first accused him of being.

You would also be an idiot to not mention how completely and utterly handsome he was, looks carved by the Greeks themselves, quite possibly the hottest, most attractive man you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on.

And maybe all that accumulated into your assured opinion that when it came to consummating your marriage with Taehyung, you’d have no qualms or worries whatsoever. You would be absolutely willing, ready to take the night on and maybe even have some fun for yourself with whom you could tell was a really, really nice guy.

Though as Taehyung walked calmly in front of you towards your hotel suite, reaching into his suit pocket for the card key he’d retrieved at the front desk to swipe against the lock, your chest clogged with a crushing feeling of anxiety you couldn’t subdue.

These weren’t the same nerves of maybe being not pretty enough, body insecurities or fear of what to expect from Taehyung, no, these nerves came from the utter panic of having to experience sex with another man.

Especially since your last partner.

It always started with your permission, that wasn’t the issue, Though what left you afraid, so utterly frightened with the thought of spending a night with a man like this came from the treatment you received from that partner.

Safe to say, you weren’t treated kindly. Far from that, actually, you were treated as though you had no needs or were a means of simple use. Your last partner was the opposite of giving, he was selfish, self-absorbed and only concerned himself with his own pleasure, going on and on only until he was satisfied and neglected you in every sense of the word, sometimes even refusing to listen to you if you protested.

To make matters worse, he wasn’t faithful.

You knew he slept around, a lot, it was the number one reason you never agreed to actually date him, never make things official.

But the reason you would end up sleeping with him was because of the most perfectly imperfect concept among the human race; love. You believed every time with him was a new chance to make that love real, that it was the genuine manifestation of your feelings for one another, thinking maybe he wasn’t the asshole he always portrayed himself as and could man up enough to love you unconditionally.

And he completely reeled you in, made you fall in love too quickly and made you believe he was capable of love. This grew exponentially when you were often described as ‘the different one’, the one he always came back to, that you were special. You clung onto those words as much as you could, convinced each time you were in fact the one for him, that maybe one day, he’d wake up and abandon his fuckboy lifestyle and mature.

But everyday that went by, every promise that was never fulfilled, every word that wasn’t met with an action, and especially after every hook up that resulted in nothing new, you began to understand you were everyone’s favourite role in a Shakespearean play.

The fool.

You were a joke to believe anything he said, the most naive person on earth to think you were any different from the others, when every night simply ended in rough fucks, virtually no orgasm and miniscule aftercare.

It left you essentially scarred, traumatized that every man in the world was built like this. It didn’t help that whenever you look back, many of your ex partners were of the same cut, the same trope of assholes that don’t seem as bad but end up being exactly so.

It was what made you swallow thickly as Taehyung opened the door to the suite, holding it open as he moved aside to let you enter first. You walked forward and unintentionally brushed against him, realizing how much smaller you were in comparison to him all over again.

He towered over you, and it made you more nervous.

You looked up at him momentarily and quietly thanked him as you stepped inside, setting your sights on the large, king sized bed situated on one side of the room, a lounging area with couches to the other side which lead to a bathroom. Seoul’s breathtaking skyline was visible in the dark of the night through wall-to-ceiling windows opposite to you, covered by flowy, sheer curtains.

You took a deep breath, trying to remind yourself Taehyung was not the same. Not all men are the same, you can’t inflict the mistakes and wrongdoings of one man onto another, categorize them into one kind. You wanted to think this way, and you knew it was the humane way to think.

But as the memories of those heart-aching nights filled your head, the empty words, the lack of care or concern, the neglect, the feelings of pure abandonment and use only caused your heart to beat profusely in your chest, clutching onto the neckline of your dress to breathe.

What if Taehyung really was no different?

It then suddenly hit you you didn’t know him. All you knew of Taehyung was that he was a fiercely successful business man, sitting atop Seoul’s most prestigious with Godly looks and a stare that could kill a man. You remembered your initial feelings about him; his stare in fact intimidated you, quite frankly all of him intimidated you, he was the epitome of perfection and you were far from that very notion. It left you thinking you didn’t measure up, and that he could view you in a dissimilar light than you viewed him; an unfavorable one.

He could simply not want you, but is forced to.

You’d observed his kind behavior and actions over the odd two days you met him, though that was exactly the inculpatory factor; you had only met him twice. You didn’t know what he would be like alone, when it was just the two of you, when there weren’t eyes scrutinizing him and cameras snapping shots of his every move.

You didn’t know how he would be like in the bedroom, either.

Your mind raced as you conflicted with yourself, trying to understand that Taehyung could be different, though apprehensive with the miniscule knowledge you actually had of him.

You discerned after that last asshole of a partner you needed the love and care of a real partner, someone who would tend to your needs, adore you in the midst of their actions, be a giver and not just a receiver.

And you didn’t know if Taehyung would be that partner.

“Y/N...” Taehyung called out to you rather softly as he removed his suit jacket, the rustling of the cloth signaling he had indeed done so. His footsteps were hard to miss, the soles of his shoes sounding against the hardwood floor as he neared your lonesome figure standing in the middle of the room.

Your breathing quickened with nearly every step he took, attempting to resolve the civil war you were battling within. You were trying to convince yourself Taehyung would be a nice man, a nice husband; though couldn’t help but feel deflated by the fact it was all mainly coerced out of him.

Your thoughts overwhelmed you as Taehyung finally stood behind you, mere inches from your back as he watched you from behind, unbeknownst of any feelings or thoughts currently riddling you.

He hesitated, though gently placed his hand against your bare arm, the sudden warmth of his hand against your skin causing you to flinch. He peered down at your smaller self squarely focusing in front of you, anticipating your response. He grew slightly soft when you tentatively looked over your shoulders, clearly teary-eyed.

Taehyung couldn’t miss how scared you seemed, and he his heart inexplicably stung at the thought you were afraid of him.

“We don’t have to do this.” Taehyung’s voice was low and resembled warm honey, reverberating in a way that made you ease up.

You worked towards a stable voice. “W-we don’t?”

“No, we don’t” His voice held no disappointment, only the intention of seemingly wanting to assure you, firm and oddly comforting.

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry.” It was hard to keep your tone leveled, clutching your hand over your mouth as you swallowed your emotions.

“Don’t be sorry, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.”

You strangely felt the desire to hold his hand that rested against you, though you ignored the urge and simply stepped out of his touch, clutching your chest tightly in an effort to cower away from him. But it was here you suddenly remembered that he kissed you, and the way he did so.

It made your cheeks fill with a rosy blush.

“Do you mean that?” You’d finally turned to meet his eyes, his face only visible by the moonlight illuminating the room. He seemed to have retracted his hand and stood with both tucked in his pockets, relaxed.

This became the first time you noticed just how ravishing he looked tonight.

His dark hair was slicked back loosely and left enough pieces to fall as a comma, graciously exposing his forehead, his Tom Ford suit attractively hugged his model-like body, watch and accessories accentuating his expensive look.

His features were casted over by soft lighting, somehow adding to his beauty as the glow made him appear... less intimidating, dare you say warm or inviting.

His expression was funnily enough, one that you could actually read. He held no contempt, no impatience or anger, only a hint of consideration as his calm eyes looked at you. His face may have been predominantly blank, void of a smile, though certainty held a form of reassurance.

“Of course I do, why would I do anything with an unwilling person?”

You scoffed lightly, “Not a lot of people would say that.” Your eyes faltered from Taehyung’s and clutched yourself tighter, expression completely telling of trauma.

Taehyung instantly picked up on it, eyebrows slightly furrowing at your words though softening once registering their weight. He felt an overwhelming sense of apology take him, thinking of his next sentence before his mind oddly flashed back to the night of the engagement party.

“Y/N, did Kiseok..?” Taehyung trailed hesitantly.

You winced at his line of thinking, “No, no...not what you’re thinking,” you immediately denied. “Just, shitty experiences.”

“Shitty, as in...?”

“As in only seeking self-satisfaction, neglect, lies, infidelity. Can we go to sleep?” You deflected with a heavy sigh and a hand at your temple, the day’s events catching up to you.

Taehyung nodded in agreement, “Yeah, sleep. We both need that.” His eyes then landed on the bed, registering even if it were large enough you two could sleep apart, he still opted for caution.

“Um.. you can take the bed, by the way. I’ll sleep on the couch-”

“No, don’t do that.” You replied quickly. “I can’t sleep on a king-sized bed all by myself, it’s huge.” You side-eyed the massive mattress and laughed a little, lightening the heavy aura casted over the room.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomf-”

“Don’t worry, Taehyung. You don’t make me feel uncomfortable.” You smiled at him lightly and received a small one from him, both your eyes mirroring the same sense of understanding you exchanged at the altar.

“I’ll let you wash up first, your overnight bag should be in the bathroom closet.” Taehyung informed, pointing towards the direction of your things.

“Thank you.” You voiced with an amount of warmth that made Taehyung want to genuinely smile, though crushed the weird urge and nodded agreeably instead.

You began walking away from him until a nuisance suddenly occurred to you, cursing yourself as you came to a full stop. “Um, Taehyung.. I forgot but could you..?” You angled your back towards him to call out to the ribbons tying the back of your dress, knowing you would’ve taken 20 years just to untie your bodice yourself.

The fact that you weren’t looking directly at Taehyung made him feel relieved, glad he wouldn’t embarrass himself with the his eyes slightly widened. He was quick to reprimand himself, it’s just a woman’s dress, why the hell are you shocked?

Taehyung swallowed dryly before replying, “Uh, yeah I’ll--I’ll do that.” He walked towards you sparingly and positioned himself behind you.

He’d noticed it before, but you were relatively small compared to him in size and it continued to poke at his brain, maybe even momentarily think it was cute.

Cute? When have I ever found a girl cute?

Taehyung exhaled before his hands carefully made for the silk ribbons, his tentative fingers fiddling with the ties until he eventually began loosening each one. He started unlooping your bodice, breathing out considerably when each loop began exposing your back inch by inch.

Taehyung’s sweet, hot breath fanned your skin, tensing each time as your every nerve went haywire feeling just how close he was. His slender fingers brushed against your bare skin here and there, making heat collect in your face.

You grew even hotter when your kiss with him suddenly crept back into your mind, unknowing of the reason why excitement and electricity shot throughout your body because of it. The way his soft, full lips met yours, mouthed at you tastefully repeated in your head, making you extremely nervous at how much a measly kiss from him was occupying your mind; it was just a kiss.

Taehyung found himself tensing by the intimacy of the moment, remembering the way he so boldly kissed you. He found that he liked the plush of your lips, the way he had to bend down to your smaller height to lock lips; and it made him feel strange.

How the hell was he taking interest in something other than his work? No, this isn’t interest, Taehyung thought, and would spend however long denying it.

He’d finished the task throughout all his thinking, unrealizing of how proximal he was to you. He oddly hated that the moment was over, coming back down to Earth.

“There you go.” He cleared his voice and stepped away from you.

You held your bodice up against your chest, realizing Taehyung had a full-access view of your back and you grew 10x hotter. You gulped at the thought before hastily turning around to thank him, quickly disappearing into the bathroom for a moment of reprieve.

You shut the door and instantly breathed out a breath you didn’t remember holding, looking at your hot mess of a face in the mirror trying to cool down, reliving the last 10 minutes of what just happened.

You took a deep breath.

Maybe Taehyung is different after all.

prev. ↞ || ↠ next || masterlist

#thebtswritersclub #bangtanhq #kwritersworldnet #taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #taehyung scenario #taehyung fanfiction #kim taehyung #taehyung arranged marriage au

5K notes · View notes

youarejesting · 3 years

Text

Sea [1/2]

Beta: @lillielil @aroseforyoongi @seokjinssymphony @kpooplifeforever @explosiveranga & my good friend Z (let me know if I left anyone out.) Rating: 17+ Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Fluff, Comedy, slow burn, slice of life. Words: 6.8k

Summary: After your plane to Korea takes an unexpected detour, you are stranded with someone you aren’t even sure speaks English. As the race begins to stay alive, emotions run high and tempers short. The unlikely contender in the survival race is love which snuck up on you both.

The thought of a thirteen-hour flight didn't bring you much joy. Why would it? Being trapped in a small box with wings, not to mention being stuck in said box with multiple people breathing recycled farts and eating some sort of wet styrofoam they called food that would most definitely give you food poisoning. Oh yes, what a joy it would be to be in a seat for hours on end, letting your skin slowly dry up.

Arriving at the terminal, you stood waiting for them to start boarding. You would have been sitting if there was a single seat free. Seriously, some asshole had even dared to lay across no less than five and a half seats, his bag resting on the empty chair at the end.

He was wearing all black and looked comfortable in his jeans and hoodie. His black cap pulled down over his eyes and you could see the bleached blonde hair sticking out from underneath. Big chunky headphones on his ears made it possible for this man to drown out the world around him.

You glared at his legs, growing tired, knowing that within a few hours you would be begging for the chance to stand up. If you were to take a mental count, there hadn’t been any nice experiences you could recall in regards to traveling on a plane.

Did that reflect the quality of service or your standard of air travel? No. Obviously, your standards were realistic, not expecting the flight time any shorter or the staff to give a foot massage or anything outrageous.

You really didn't want any extra luxuries other than what was offered in the pamphlet — and yes, that meant you chose first-class — because if you were to suffer, you would do so in the best environment.

Unfortunately, the reality of it was that there was no better or more comfortable way to travel. Checking in, you would be boarding first before the other passengers, not really a privilege. However you got in line anyway behind the young man who had previously been lounging across the airport seats. He was holding up the line having lost his passport and you were getting more and more pissed.

You were simply just having a bad day.

A woman behind you started openly arguing, exclaiming that this man was not allowed to ride first class as he clearly wasn’t fit for it. Bringing up his style of dress and the headphones around his neck. You turned, glaring daggers at the woman until she became silent.

Society taught people to judge based on appearance, that everyone fit into a category, never mind the old adage to ‘never judge a book based on it’s cover’. Stil, you were always respectful and treated others equally, maybe even getting to know a person that you wouldn’t in other circumstances. It always surprised you how much you enjoyed taking a risk and getting to know them.

Once you showed your ticket and passport, you traveled down the long hall towards the plane. You saw the man in front of you talking with another man. He seemed to respect him and was reading him a schedule from his phone. You raised your eyebrows and smiled at the young stewardess who welcomed you on board. Her hair was pristine in a tight bun and her crisp, dark blue outfit was paired with a red scarf.

Stepping over the small gap, you felt the cold of the air conditioning, yet the air still felt thick. There were three places you could go to feel this type of cold: the dentist, an airplane, or the movies. First class was spacious with only a single cubicle on either side of the aisle. You took your seat. It was like personal rooms where you could close a sliding screen for more privacy, even though you were sitting next to someone, you wouldn't be able to see them at all.

The seats were more like arm chairs that one could lay back completely in, made with a brilliant blue leather. The cubicle room was complemented in a similar shade but with red features. You had a tv and a tiny minibar that had a small selection of drinks and snacks.

The flight attendants took all the passengers through the safety instructions. You could practically write them at this point. However they added a few things you had never heard. You had never heard such in-depth instructions going beyond the general life jackets, floatation devices, and first aid kits.

Never before had they told you about the airbags that would be deployed if you crash in the ocean. Apparently the emergency escape slides doubled as floatation devices and could hold up to one hundred and thirty people comfortably. They even explained how they detach these rafts from the fuselage and that they have ropes that allow them to be tied off to each other or the airframe.

Distracted by a tired male sighing beside you, you wondered who would fall asleep during the safety messages. Sure they were boring, but even you pretended to care. When you turned to see the culprit, he was disappearing behind the plastic divider of his cubicle dragged by his long pale fingers.

Well, at least you had some privacy. It was something you were thankful for, you wanted to get comfortable, or as comfortable as you could.

Perhaps these new instructions and information were deemed irrelevant to domestic flights. Or perhaps it was for the very enthusiastic kid they led through the first class discussing more of the plane's anatomy. “What if a wing falls off?”

“The plane is really sturdy, the wing wouldn’t just fall off” She grinned, “Let’s see what the pilot is doing and we can get your mum a picture wearing the captain's hat!”

After the flight attendants thanked everyone for listening, the plane took to the sky. You closed up all sides of your cubicle and requested to be only woken for meals. The stewardess was very diligent and for that you were grateful.

The journey was nearing the six hour mark and all that one could see was clouds and the ocean. The collection of empty water bottles were a poignant reminder to relieve your bladder.

You stood up and waddled determined to go to the bathroom. It was inconvenient to drink so much water but you didn't want to get dehydrated.

Feeling much better, you took a few minutes to look in the mirror and moisturise as your skin was feeling particularly dry already. Startled from your self care routine by a light rapping on the door, you packed up your things and pulled open the door. Unfortunately, at that moment, the plane shook.

It was like something from a romance novel, the way you fell against him and yet, there was nothing elegant or poetic in the way you fell against him.

Your face slammed into his chest and his head hit the wall with a heavy thud. "Sorry, I'm sorry"

"Shibal" he said, his language was something unlike you have ever heard, it was rhythmic and sounded like a song. His voice was so low and rumbly it almost sounded like he was purring.

You weren’t well versed in other languages or cultures, so you didn’t know what he was saying. This was your first time leaving your country. If it wasn’t for the damn holiday raffle at work, you wouldn’t have even left your house. Every other flight you had ever been on was domestic and therefore your suffering was short lived, but this flight was long and you were getting rather bored. It seemed your mind was reeling trying to absorb all that it could and currently that meant the poor man you had body slammed into the wall was under your perusal.

His body was thin unlike yours which was curvaceous. His hair was dark and shaggy making his pale skin almost ghostly. He had sharp cat-like eyes that were quite intimidating as they glared at you and his small downturned lips were yet to speak. He seemed like a man of few words. All this coldness was juxtaposed by his cute round nose. You could tell from his features that he was from Asia, but you couldn't pinpoint where.

Grabbing your shoulders, he started to push you off of him, when the plane shook again and you both fell back into the small bathroom. Your back hit the toilet, and a searing pain bloomed from the impact causing your body to lock up as it radiated through you.

The seat belt light came on. You both scrambled to your feet bumping into the walls, sink and each other from the unstable winds shaking the plane. Struggling back to your seats when the cabin pressure changed. There was a creaking sound and the plane started shaking. You immediately felt a sick sense of dread. The pilot spoke calmly about turbulence and requested everyone return to their seats. But the pair of you couldn't move down the aisle to your seats.

There was a sound like a car backfiring and someone from economy class shouted about the wing being on fire. Your grip on the young man's coat tightened and a terrifying sound like metal groaning filled the cabin. That didn’t sound like regular turbulence, you were sure of that.

Sharing a horrified look with the young man, you got up the courage to try to push off from the wall. Unsuccessful, you were once more pressed against the wall. The plane was plummeting. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the emergency box. What was this emergency and what in that box could fix this situation?

"You need to return to your seats,” the stewardess said. The smell of smoke was strong and it filled the inside of the plane quickly. You hadn’t even seen the stewardess trying to climb through the plane. Her grip strained on the walls and seats as she fought against the force pushing her back. “We are making an emergency landing."

The metal sound was louder. Shrieking like nails on a chalkboard, it pierced through the cabin. You watched as the side of the plane ripped completely off with the ease of someone removing the plastic off a new fridge. There was a feeling of being weightless before a drop on a roller coaster, and then it was like your stomach was left behind. The stewardess was sucked out from the cabin behind you.

You and the young Asian man were sliding backwards down the aisle trying to find something to grab onto. The floor in first class was some sort of linoleum and gave you a nasty burn as you slid. It was like fire against your skin. As the pilot fought with the plane, you practically bounced off every seat.

It felt like you were weightless for a brief moment as you were lifted off the ground, your back hit the roof before you smacked the floor again. All the wind had been knocked out of you.

The pilots were fighting against the drop, so in the moment of calm before the plummet, you grabbed the leg of an economy class seat as it was bolted to the ground. You looked at the young man, watching the panic as he realized he was too far away to hold on and dangerously close to the large opening. He began slipping out of the plane, his hands flailing before clamping around your ankle. The two of you were almost hanging outside the plane.

Everyone in economy class was panicking and wearing oxygen masks. No wonder you couldn’t breathe. Gasping for breath, you cursed yourself for liking all those action movies that made this look easy.

“Hold on!” You all but screamed more to yourself than the poor guy holding your leg. He was being completely battered by the wind. You felt his hands slipping and you reached down with one hand to grab his wrist and he grabbed yours. He looked thankful.

“Shibal,” he groaned, his voice straining. Your body was being stretched. The cold metal was unforgiving, and it tore apart the skin on your palm. Your eyes were watering in protest to the wind and smoke that was drying them out.

The drink trolley that the stewardesses had been moving through the aisles had gotten loose and went flying down the plane. It hit an old man in the back of the head. You knew he wouldn’t make it, and speaking of, it was headed straight for you. You watched in fear, like some horrifying game of chicken as the trolley came for you. Thankfully, it bounced on the floor inches from your hand and flew out of the plane.

It was a mix of flinching and the force of the wind that made your hand on the chair slip. You slid further out of the plane, grabbing the exposed shell of the plane with your free hand. Your other hand desperately clutching the young man's hand watching in horror as he smacked into the side of the plane unconscious. “Shit!”

His body was limp and you had to do something. With all the strength you had, you tried to pull his flailing form closer to protect him. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the ocean quickly advancing. You were going to hit the water.

The breeze pressing against you was fierce. Your eyes were dry, making you think of your eyedrops in your carry-on luggage. You could see the water coming up quicker now; you tried to gauge what would be a survivable height. Knowing you had a higher chance of surviving freediving as opposed to hanging halfway from the plane, where you would both slam head first into the plane. You decided to take the leap.

Screaming in absolute terror as you watched the fast approaching water, you let go just in time. It was equivalent to a few stories on a building from the ground. Wrapping him in your arms, you pointed yourselves down deciding to break the fall. Lifting your free hand above your head like you were doing a high dive, you hit the water. It was such a shock, the liquid was so cold it caused your muscles to lock up.

Your adrenaline was pumping, and one of your arms felt numb and unresponsive. You swam oddly to the surface, gasping when you felt the air on your skin. He was unconscious, and you held his face out of the water.

The plane wasn't too far away and for now was on the surface of the water. The emergency exit inflatable slide, which doubled as a raft, had been deployed but no survivors seemed to climb out.

You swam in a side stroke to keep your damaged arm and the young man's unconscious form out of the water. You hoped he was going to be okay. The only thought in your head was making it to the raft and you were doing everything in your power to get there, even contemplating leaving him behind. But you weren't going to give up, a part of you wanted to prove you could do it.

Reaching the raft felt euphoric. Taking a deep breath you pushed him into the raft. Doing a quick check of his head and body, you noticed he was breathing oddly. You turned him on his side and tried to clear his airway. A little bit of water trickled out before you performed CPR. Your saving grace came when he coughed and spluttered, placing him in the recovery position and hoping he would be okay on his own for a moment. You looked around for any more survivors. There was luggage floating around, and you picked up all you could from the water.

Walking along the inflatable back into the plane, the water was not as high in first class. This was probably due to the hole in the plane in the economy. The right side being the only one of the inflatables that had inflated beside the plane. Keeping the plane precariously afloat balancing on two inflatables which had malfunctioned and inflated under the plane.

Moving quickly and wading through the icy water, you grabbed the emergency kits on the wall. You had passed by deceased passengers and tried not to look. It was eerie and unbelievable even though it had only just happened.

Bags littered the water and you guided them towards the exit and put them on the raft. You could save these people's possessions for their family, or there could be items inside that could be of use and save your life.

You also noticed the flight attendant area and raided the cupboards as quickly as you could. You grabbed the medical kit, some slippers, a range of very thin blankets that were wet and even some snacks carrying everything back to the floatation rafts. As an afterthought you braved a second trip back into the plane to grab your and the other man’s overhead luggage as you knew he would likely appreciate it.

Finding a bunch of cell phones floating around the cabin. You grabbed them all hoping one would be waterproof. You found a few that were still turned on, but only one seemed to have some sort of signal. The plane creaked as you started making the emergency call.

“Come on” you begged the phone to connect. The whole plane creaked again and tilted; it wouldn’t last long. You had desperately searched for survivors but there was no one obviously alive. You tried your best to check their vitals, but time was running out. Hopefully, you wouldn’t be cursed for pronouncing everyone dead.

"Hello, this is an emergency service hotline?" A voice cut through the silence, you looked at the phone about to cry in relief "fire, ambulance or police"

"Hello, we were in a plane crash, my name is y/n, we were on a flight from Los Angeles to Seoul"

"What is your location?" the woman said, confused by your description.

"The ocean" you hissed "we are on a life raft"

"How many people are with you, what are their names?"

"Just one. I don't know his name. He is asian. Um really thin, um, has dark hair and—”

"You seem to be breaking up" the emergency operator said with the voice cutting out. You looked down at the phone in your hand and sighed. Of course, if everything was going wrong, a phone in the middle of the ocean apparently won’t save you. You thought to yourself, ‘it is 2021 so why isn’t service available everywhere?’ Pocketing the phone you began making your way out the plane.

You headed back to the inflatable and made the decision to cut the plane free. Scared that it would bring the raft down with it. Grabbing more luggage from the water, you thought it best not to watch the plane sink. It would only make you feel worse.

The time went by slowly. It took hours for the plane to disappear. Even though you had promised yourself not to look, you had. Taking glances as the plane slowly sank and you drifted further away.

The moment the plane was no longer in sight, you curled up and let the tears fall. The sun began setting and the heat turned into a bitter cold. Your wrist was still quite swollen, and you decided to wrap it as you drifted along. You had been so sure that there would be something or someone to see you drifting, and you would be saved.

However one cold night became two, and then three, only breaking for the scorching heat of the day.

You thanked yourself for watching all those ‘lost on an island’ movies and television shows; you had learned some things along the way. You also had your father to thank for always dragging you along to the volunteer emergency services programs, ones where you learned how to survive in a forest. At the time you thought it was super lame for your friends to go to nice hotels by the beach for their holidays and you were making some sort of mealworm dish while making stick shelters.

Going over the information you had in your head, you knew water was the priority. The instructor had said humans can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

The sun would dehydrate you quickly. You had made a small shelter with luggage and blankets to protect you from the sun.

If you didn’t find land, you were going to have to make some sort of man-made evaporation device to create water. As it was, you were slowly getting the unconscious young man to drink little amounts of bottled water, for he too needed to stay hydrated.

The man you were with had awoken the third day. He seemed a little freaked out about being alone at sea. You explained calmly, not wanting him to do anything drastic and he sat there processing things.

You gave him a bottle of water and something to eat. The two of you continued drifting, not speaking a word to one another. You spent most of the time trying to craft something to float on the ocean and create clean drinking water.

(This evaporation device floats on the ocean and mimics rain by the water droplets sticking to the plastic cover over the whole device when weighted in the middle it then drips back down into a bottle. I can find a reference picture if you need. [Here] [Here] [This one is like what I made in 7th grade camp])

But you couldn’t get the water to land in the bottle and the bottle to stay upright. He was no help, just laying in the shelter out of the sun. The raft was big enough for about one hundred and thirty people. And yet, the two of you sat close by and didn’t say a word.

You were covered in sweat and felt absolutely disgusting. It was time for you to get changed. What a stupid way to die, not from dehydration, or malnourishment, or even sun exposure, but from lack of hygiene. It was decided.

“I am getting changed, don’t look,” you breathed, opening your carry-on bag.

“I don’t want look,” he muttered back in English and turned away. You quickly put on something that covered your shoulders and tried getting some rest. You didn't want to alarm him, but you both had consumed the last of the water and food rations.

It was late that night when you heard a different sound. The raft was moving a lot more. These were big waves and a part of you hoped it was not a tsunami or whale activity.

When the sound got louder, you were reminded of the beach when waves crashed on the sand. Looking up, you saw something big approaching. It was a body of land. Suddenly, your chances of survival greatly increased, now that you had a way to get out of the water. Nervous about putting your hands in the pitch black water, you looked at your companion peacefully sleeping and made the decision to paddle slowly. Anything to increase your chances of getting to safety. You eventually washed up on the beach, arms aching and stepped out to drag the raft onto the sand.

It was late and still dark, but you had to do something. Thinking that perhaps if you found someone, you would both be saved straight away. You waited on the raft until the sky lightened, and then you got to work collecting sticks and starting a small fire. You took the empty water bottles, hoping to find a clean water source or some fresh water that you could boil.

You walked to the highest point in sight, not seeing any signs of large predatory animals was a good sign. When you reached the top, you felt a sense of satisfaction as you had overcome the many trials and tribulations. You made it through a plane crash, survived on the water, and made it to land.

Looking around, you saw something bone-chilling. This was an island and judging by the lack of people, houses or establishments, it was uninhabited. There was no civilization to be seen. You saw the tufts of smoke from your fire and tried not to cry. You were stuck here until someone could rescue you.

Pushing the minor breakdown aside, you thought about water, it was important. Scanning the island, there seemed to be a small waterfall and tiny lagoon at the bottom. Since the rain, the waterfall was running pretty fiercely. You mapped out a path back to the beach which would detour past the waterfall.

By the time you reached the beach, your arms were exhausted with the weight of the now filled water bottles. He was awake and briskly brushing his reddened cheeks with his sleeves, turning his back to you. Sympathising with the man who probably thought you died, fell overboard or abandoned him.

You pulled out the metal pot from the plane and began boiling the water, in an attempt to kill any bacteria in it. The tide was going out. you knew you should be thinking about food as the next priority, but you wanted to sleep. Being primarily awake for a few days was taking its toll.

It took everything in you to get yourself to move and get to work. Taking large rocks, you carried them into the water until you were knee-deep. You were building a V- shaped wall, so when the tide came in, it brought with it fish and when the tide went out, they would be trapped.

Pouring the now cooled water into the bottles, you started thinking about your plan. First, you thought about short-term needs, in case you were rescued soon, and then long-term needs, in the event you weren’t rescued for months or perhaps years. You paused, forcing yourself to think and accept the fact that there was a chance you would never be rescued.

The Asian man had gotten up and looked around hopefully. Handing him a now clean and sterile bottle of water, you frowned looking around with him. "There is no one here." He didn't say a word, staring at you while drinking slowly.

You huffed, trying to figure out how you two could survive on an island. He watched you fuss around trying to make a shelter out of sticks but it collapsed everytime.

“Just no,” he muttered. You tried not to openly sneer at him. Grabbing the raft, you dragged it across the sand. As the raft was built for a large group, it seemed all you were doing was digging your feet into the sand. But little by little it was dragged up the beach thanks to the tide. It took some convincing but you had gotten help from the young man. The two of you madly struggling to lift the inflatable slide to a tilt against a tree. It was still inflated so you hoped you could use it for something else if needed.

Before the tide came in that evening, you ran out to the water. Your hopes were crushed when you found no fish and saw that the wall had broken. Carrying more large rocks into the water and making the V bigger and stronger, things weren't looking great, but you were trying to do your best. Cold from splashing around in the water, you went back to the shelter, but the fire had gone out by this point.

Looking at the young man, you let out an exasperated sigh. Did he not care for his life or yours? Contemplating while gathering more wood, you realized that you had been doing all the work, while he was just lazing around. “We need more wood, come help,” you gestured for the young man to follow, but he sneered at the thought and leaned away from you.

“I just lay uh here and wait to…” he thought over his words, slowly forming an English sentence “die or be rescue,” he mumbled. You were too exhausted to argue. It could wait until tomorrow, and you would both freeze tonight. Maybe then he would understand the importance of working together towards a goal.

You felt absolutely disgusting. hearing the loud patter of rain, you walked down the length of the shelter. On one side was the raft, and on the other was the luggage, built into a wall. You took out some clean clothes and stepped into the rain. Peeling off your seawater and sweat drenched clothes, you stood in the dark and tried washing your body with a tiny travel soap you had found in a bag.

You scrubbed your body of sweat and turned back to the shelter. Grabbing your towel, and wrapping it around your body, you stepped inside. He was laying on the makeshift bed you had prepared. He looked over, and when he saw you just in a towel, he rolled away. It was embarrassing, you who loved privacy and comfort were showering all exposed in the rain and getting changed in the same vicinity as a stranger. That night, he took the only dry blanket, so you laid there with wet hair and damp skin, shivering.

You were thankful for the sun rising, and it took a few minutes for you to thaw enough to move, but when you did, you deemed it time for him to do some work. The two of you gathered sticks and leaves. He barely helped, and when he got back, he laid back down and fell asleep in the shelter.

Building a fire, with the wood, took some time as it had rained the night before. The leaves helped fuel the flames. The fire didn't have to be amazing, you just needed it for warmth. You also hoped some rescue teams might even see the faint smoke.

At the sound of your stomach calling for sustenance you got up and went to check the rock wall you made and found a fish swimming in the shallow water. You grinned, carrying it back making sure to stoke the fire. You were doing your absolute best with the emergency kit knife.

You must have looked pitiful, as your companion took over, filleting the fish with ease, and he even cooked it. The two of you had fish for breakfast and you felt satiated. You took some of the supplies and got ready to set out for food and fresh water. He was dressed and trying to follow you, so you let him carry some of the empty bottles.

Except he wasn't cut out for endurance, he got winded quickly. It reminded you of the time you passed out during a school marathon. Yet you made the best of the situation that you could, walking slowly until you came across some sort of fruit that the birds were eating.

You took a couple of pieces of rotten fruit and then carefully dug up the small plant and began carrying it back. He followed you back. You placed the plant down. Using your hands you tried to shift the dirt until you had a decent hole where you could plant the little fruit tree. Watering it with some of the water you had collected from the lagoon, internally wishing the plant would flourish. It was hard pouring the fresh water on the plant but you had to if you wanted food.

You mapped out an area and put sticks in the ground in a box-shape, in hopes of starting a garden of any edible plants found throughout the island.

You took the old fruit you collected off the ground, put it around the bottom of the tree, and gave a small hopeful sigh. “Hopefully it will break down in the soil and feed the plant. Our fate is in your hands little plant”

You spent another night sleeping in the makeshift shelter and had to decide on what to do, so you sat up and turned to the young man.

"Hey, are you awake?" He sat up, his eyes narrow, "what do we build? Shelter? or a garden for food?"

He blinked before choosing "Shelter?” you giggled at his confusion, not trying to be rude. He knew more English than you knew Korean and that was definitely a feat.

“A home”

“Home, food later" he shrugged

It rained heavier, bringing with it a sense of sadness. There was no one waiting for you, no one looking for you. The tears began falling and you tried to stifle the sounds. He was still and you hoped he didn’t hear the breakdown. You hoped he was sound asleep as this seemed to be his skill. You were sadly mistaken; he wasn’t asleep. He moved and draped a blanket over you. He only drifted off when you exhausted yourself from crying.

Waking up with your back pressed to his back, the two of you had shared a few airplane blankets. Your body was aching, from sleeping on the ground. It was time to build the shelter both of you had been discussing. You needed someplace safe from the elements and a place with some sort of makeshift bed. Sand felt so soft, but was uncomfortable to sleep on.

Standing in the morning breeze, you began thinking: “How does one even build a house?” If people can make houses with only the land, then so could you. You had no excuse.if it didn’t work, you could try again until you figured it out. You knew there should be some sort of foundation. You could build between two trees, or with a big pillar in the middle, or four walls like a traditional home. Whatever you were going to do, you needed the materials, namely wood, but it’s not like you could just rip a tree out of the ground with your bare hands. You needed tools. Unfortunately, this island didn’t have a hardware store. This wasn’t like minecraft; you couldn’t just create perfect tools from nothing. Or, could you?

You got to work trying to make some sort of mock Stone Age axe. It gave you blisters, but you had successfully chopped a single tree down. Getting the hang of chopping the trees with your primitive tool, you had four trees ready on the seventh day. You dug holes in the sand, but it wasn’t holding the trunks at all. They kept toppling over. He told you it wouldn’t work, and you only huffed in response.

You would have to dig, until you found harder ground. This took another week, but you had four tree trunks in the ground in a modest square. You had started feeling dizzy while working, and your head felt clouded. It had been raining ever since you arrived, every night and lightly throughout the day, you didn’t think you had felt warm in a few days.

While making a wall frame out of trees, you started to feel dizzy again. You tied together the thin logs with multiple vines, and you hoped they would stay. The more you worked, the more your hands got torn up.

You were tying the last of the frame, when you felt your body grow heavy. You were so tired. You thought you would die by the hands of the lazy man. With that, all other thoughts left you as the darkness crept in.

The shelter was warm. There was a fire, and the blankets were wrapped around you, keeping you warm. Beside you was a bottle of water and a packet of painkillers. “Fever,” he sighed, “all work makes you uh… quick death?”

“Well, at least I am doing something. I have kept you alive, in the plane, in the water and now. I have done everything and what have you done other than act arrogant and lazy?” You said, “You haven’t even told me your name. We are stranded on an island. Maybe we will be rescued tomorrow, and it will be all in vain but what if it’s not tomorrow? What if it's months or a year from now?”

“What if never safe?” He argued, not looking at you.

“The point is, I don’t want to die in my twenties. I don’t want to die in general. I had dreams, to get married, have a family and be a loving wife. I was working a stupid office job, and I loved it. I won’t give up that dream. I will live with the hope that one day we will be rescued, and I will keep us alive goddamn it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me.” He gave a dry laugh, “I have no care. I was not… supposed be on the plane.”

“I need you alive. I can’t do this on my own. If-” You took a deep breath, “If you die, I might do something stupid. I can’t live an undetermined number of days on my own”

He went quiet.

“Think about someone else for a change, it’s not all about you, Mister Asshole.”

“Yoongi,” he mumbled

“What?” You asked, too tired to be mad.

“My name is Yoongi.” He left the shelter, and you were left sobbing in the dark.

You woke up to Yoongi cooking fish on the fire; you were not expecting it. He hadn’t really done anything to help you. He mostly sat around, but the two of you ate together before you got to work. It was after a few hours you noticed Yoongi was gone again. It disheartened you that he was off doing whatever again, while you were working. You were completely exasperated by the young man, he maddened you, always on your mind. He was hot and mysterious and you hate that you couldn’t stop thinking about him because he acted nice once.

You began opening the suitcases hoping you wouldn’t offend anyone by going through personal belongings of the deceased. Clothes in all different sizes mens and womens, all different styles and one suitcase broke you, filled with tiny onesies and cloth diapers, dummies and ointments and medicines for a tiny baby. A pretty purple rattle with a cute butterfly on the handle.

You slammed the suitcase shut and pushed it across the sand to look at another day but for now you needed to step aside, the wound was too fresh. These were real people who died and yet why did you two survive, the most unlikely pairing with the worst odds and yet you survived when countless innocent lives were lost. It wasn’t fair.

A few days had passed, and you were trying to create something sturdy enough to withstand wind and rain with a roof and walls. You had plenty of resources, but you had to pick the right ones that would last.

You thought about it and decided to use the raft to line the inside of the house in the tarp-like material. It was super long, so you could do the roof and the four walls and still have the whole underside left over. You would weave leaves and sticks together to make them sturdier and layer them on the outside.

Putting your plan to action seemed easy yet tedious. You collected long palm leaves, removed the spines, and weaved the leaves tightly together, and laid them on the floor. The more you weaved, the faster you got. Painstakingly working every day, you rejoiced when all four walls, roof, and floor were finished and stable.

While you were doing all this, Yoongi was nowhere to be seen. He returned at night, as he always did. He looked unbothered by all the work you had accomplished that day. You finished up, and the two of you ate and went to bed, which was just a collection of woven leaf mats covered in some of the leftover tarp from the raft.

You had moved the items from the shelter into the new house area. The two of you sat on the remaining raft fabric. “I made a bed out of leaf mats and covered it in the leftover material.”

Yoongi seemed impressed looking around, “잘 했어.”

“Jal haess-eo?” you repeated the sounds “What does that mean?”

“Uh… good work” He took your hands and pulled out a small succulent leave from his pocket snapping it and squeezing out the liquid inside. Applying it to the cuts and scratches on your hands gently. You noticed his hands were rough too, for he had cuts and blisters littering the his palms as well.

“Where did you find aloe vera?” you asked curiously. What had he been doing?

“Near the…” he made an action with his hand “폭포”

“The what?” You laughed, and he cracked a slight smile.

“Water shaaaa!” he made the sound and gesture of water falling. You laughed hysterically. He was so cute, when you got to know him.

“Waterfall?” you prompted, checking that was what he had meant.

“Ah waterfall!” he nodded, “Near the waterfall”

“What did you call it?” you said. You were genuinely interested. He had been trying his best to communicate with you in your language, so maybe you could learn some of his to ease the burden “Pog-o”

“폭포” he corrected.

“Pogpo” You smiled at him. he seemed a little happy that you were giving his language a try. “How do you say good night?”

“안녕히 주무세요” he said and you blinked shocked, so he grinned,speaking slower in syllables “Ann-yeong-hi ju-mu-se-yo.”

“Annyeonghi,” you repeated. He seemed eager to teach you more, so you stayed up as long as you could, learning Korean phrases until you both fell asleep.

[Part 2/2] coming soon...

How can I save this to receive and read updates?

‘Follow’ and turn on ‘Notifications’ so you never miss an update

Add your name to a ‘Tag’ list [HERE]

‘Reblog’ this post with the hashtag #BTSsea

Or you can ‘Like’ this post (but good luck trying to find the second part a week later, we both know how many things you like a day, perhaps we will meet again in the future.)

108 notes · View notes

bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

Residue

RATING: R/smut (cw: emotional and mild physical abuse mentioned)

WORD COUNT: 8.5k eek

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers, camping!harry (?), sleeping in the same bed

NOTE: this is for the Sex Bucket List Fic Challenge from @berrynarrybanana - prompt was in a tent while camping with friends....and then I just kind of created this mess. check out the other fics and the amazing creators!!!!

I ENDED UP WRITING A PT.2! Read Endlessly here.

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

Harry and Y/N go camping with their friends and the fact that they’ve been in love with each other comes out

The drive out to the country was peaceful. Harry put on a podcast about music on the way and you listened as they analyzed Beyoncé’s Lemonade, pausing it occasionally to ask Harry questions about the technical parts. With the sunshine and Harry’s commentary once the podcast episode ended, the drive to the campgrounds in West Sussex passed quickly.

Harry had booked your camp site last weekend, their trip a last-minute decision. You, Mitch, Sarah, and Nick had all been at Harry’s for a cookout and he’d mentioned wanting to get out in nature before the tour started, and Mitch threw out going camping. Nick took some convincing, but eventually he agreed. You and Nick had managed to get the time off from work, although Nick had to head back a day earlier, and it was settled. You had all left the particulars to Harry and when he texted a link to the campground in their group chat, you had fallen in love. Wooded, no power, cooking over an open fire--it reminded you of camping with your family when you were young.

“Excited?” You asked Harry when you pulled into the parking lot at the front office. You threw the car in park and turned off the ignition, looking over at your best friend.

He grinned back at you, eyes gleaming. You knew he’d been looking forward to this ever since you had first talked about it--he’d been calling you every day to go over the plans and picking out their meals for the weekend. “Psyched.”

You both climbed out of your car, stretching from the drive, and you inhaled the sweet smell of English oak trees, the sound of birds chirping making you smile as widely as Harry. Nick, Sarah, and Mitch were waiting by their cars, and Nick seemed to be animatedly telling a story about who knows what.

“Is Nick being annoying?” You asked, throwing your arm around Nick’s shoulders and ruffling his hair.

“He’s telling the story about the Brits. Again,” Sarah said, reaching out to hug you. “Save us, please.”

“Oi, you’re being mean.” Nick said and Sarah just laughed and shook her head.

Mitch gave you a quick hug and you smiled at him--they’d all been working a lot lately in preparation for the tour. You had barely seen him, Sarah, and Harry, and you missed their presences more than you had realized. “Let’s go see what Harry got us,” you said.

“Spoiled you lot rotten,” Harry said, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose.

“I’d hoped so,” you replied, and Harry chuckled softly before leading the group inside the office.

“Reservation for Y/N,” Harry said to the receptionist and you looked at him in confusion. “Didn’t want anyone finding us,” he explained and you nodded immediately in understanding. After years of friendship, you were used to it, though it always tugged on your heart. You wanted, more than anything, for him to be able to be normal at some point. You knew he craved it too--anonymity.

The receptionist clicked some buttons on her computer before pulling some folders out of a drawer and turning back to you all. “I’ve got three yurts reserved for you all--is that correct?”

Harry’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I had requested four over the phone.”

The receptionist--Martha, according to her badge, frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Unfortunately, though, we’re all booked up this weekend. Is there any way three could be made to work?”

That meant someone was going to have to share. Harry looked at you, and then at Nick. “Nick, you good to bunk, mate?”

Nick groaned and you rolled your eyes at him. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep I’ll lock you out.”

“I don’t think they have doors, Nick,” you told him.

He looked at you and grimaced. “Zip him out then.”

“How threatening,” Harry said, before looking back to the receptionist. “That’ll be fine.” She nodded and explained the rest of the check-in and check-out policies and the amenities on the site. It seemed perfect--a pub not too far from the grounds, camp fires you was most definitely going to take advantage of, and actual showers. He truly was spoiling you all.

You walked back to the car with Harry to drive to their yurts, swinging your keys around your finger in thought. “H,” you said when you sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for bunking with Nick. I know you like your own space, so I appreciate it.”

He gave you a wide smile and you couldn’t help it--it warmed every part of you. It was moments like these you struggled to remember that Harry was just your friend. Nothing more. You’d dated people, he’d dated people, and you two were just friends. But then he’d look at you like this and you wanted more. “‘Course, love.” He reached across the console and gave your hand a quick squeeze, and your heart flopped in your chest.

You were starved for touch--it’d been months since you broke up with your asshole of an ex and you were desperate to be touched, even if it was someone holding your hand. Usually you could count on Harry for some cuddles and tight hugs, but he’d been so busy practicing for tour that you hadn’t seen him much. Just FaceTime and the occasional meet-up at the café by your office on your lunch break and it seemed to be showing.

You started the engine and prayed to the Gods that they would help you get through this weekend in one piece.

The yurts were in a quiet part of the campground, secluded and in a thicket of trees. All you could hear was the sound of wind whistling through the leaves and the chirping of birds. After living in London for the past two years and barely leaving, it was a relief to be able to hear nothing but nature.

Nick let out a whoop when he opened the door to his car. “God, this is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Sarah and Mitch pulled up a second later and you all wandered around the campground, deciding where you would put your chairs (around the campfire, obviously) and what you wanted to eat for dinner. Then, you started to unpack. You claimed the tent closer to the woods, wanting not to be awoken in the middle of the night if cars drove by and to get away from the group if you went to bed early, something that you had a tendency towards when Nick and Harry were together.

The sound of the yurt being zipped open caused you to look up from where you were checking to see if there were bed bugs. After getting them when you were 13 on a family trip, you always checked. “This going to be okay for you?” Harry stood hunched over, his head poking into your yurt. His shirt was unbuttoned, the beige linen flowing in the soft breeze, and his hair flopped into his face. His green eyes were gleaming, a look he only got on break or on holiday, and it was your favorite look on him. He looked just unperturbed and blissfully happy.

“Come in, silly,” you said, turning around and flopping down onto the bed. “It’s perfect, H.”

Harry grinned and dropped down next to you. “Comfy, eh?”

“Very.”

“I should plan every holiday at this rate.”

You whacked him with the pillow. The last holiday you had planned and the hotel had ended up being bad and their reservation for their yacht trip fully did not exist when they showed up. It was a disaster and Harry had yet to let you live it down. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“What? I like planning!”

“And you like being complimented.”

Harry huffed and you just smiled at him. After knowing one another for years, not only did you know everything important about Harry, you also knew how to push his buttons. Calling him out for what you had longed believed to be some kind of praise kink (you’d asked him about if while drunk and he’d looked so confused and embarrassed you dropped it) was the number one way to get him riled up.

“How’s your tent with Grimmy?”

“He’s already asleep.”

“It’s noon.”

“Apparently he didn’t sleep last night.”

You laughed because it was classic Nick. It happened on almost every holiday you went on together, of which there had been a few. He’d get to wherever you were staying and immediately fall asleep for usually the rest of the day. You all usually just left him where he was and went about your business, but he also usually had his own room. “Were you able to put your stuff down at least?”

Harry shrugged. “Just dropped my suitcase on the ground and left him. I’ll wake him up eventually.” He turned his head and looked at you, his head so close that if you turned your head up ever so slightly, you could probably kiss him.

“Fancy a swim?” You asked him, sitting up suddenly and trying to push the thought away.

“Fuck yes,” he replied. “Let me change into my suit.”

The sun was out in full force when you jumped into the lake, your towels and clothes abandoned on the edge of the water. You were lying on your back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of sun on your skin. Mitch and Sarah were swimming around--you could hear them chattering about how Sarah wanted a dog and Mitch wasn’t into the idea--but you didn’t know where Harry was. You couldn’t hear him. Maybe he’d swam a little further away?

You pushed the thoughts from your mind and focused on not thinking about anything, which somehow took a significant amount of effort. Work kept trying to drift into your head--had the office finished the pitch that you had left for them on Thursday? It was a big account and you had put your all into it, but you hadn’t finished the final touches on Thursday before you had to leave the office, so you left it for your coworkers to wrap up on your behalf. Hopefully they didn’t half-ass it.

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around your waist and you were being flipped onto your stomach, water immediately filling your nose and mouth. You snapped up, water flicking from the ends of your hair, and blinked the droplets away so you could see who had done it.

Harry.

“You bastard!” You screeched, shoving him. His skin was slick from the sunscreen and water, and you tried not to focus on the feeling of his arm muscles under your palms. “I could’ve drowned!”

“You were a competitive swimmer, Y/N,” he reminded you, chuckling. “You weren’t going to drown.”

You sputtered, slicking your hair back, and then gave him a death stare. “Still. You’re an ass.”

“That’s not news,” Sarah piped up from where she and Mitch were treading water and laughing at what had just happened.

“This is true.” You gave Harry another look before shoving a wave of water in his direction, splashing water into his face.

Harry gasped, wiping water from his face, his hair, which had grown longer in the past few weeks while he’d been on break, sticking to his forehead. He looked like a little kid, despite how muscular he’d become in the past year or so. You tried to not linger on it, but when he was in front of you without a shirt on, sun-kissed skin just begging to be looked it, it was quite difficult. “This is war.”

He shoved water at you, and suddenly you were splashing one another like children, both of you screeching as water got into your eyes. Your feet collided underwater, arms hitting each other as you twirled around each other in the water, trying to surprise one another.

It was all fun and games until Harry’s hand reached out and accidentally hit you right in the boob.

“Harry!” You called out, swatting him. “You just hit me in the boob.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

“Just sore,” you said, swimming a bit farther away from him. “Meanie.”

Harry gave you his puppy dog eyes, lashes blinking at you, plump lips sticking out ever so slightly. You hated when he did this because you always fell for it. Years of friendship and you still couldn’t hold anything against him when he did this because he just looked so goddamn gorgeous. You hated it. “Sorry?”

“Fine,” you said, “but you’re carrying me the whole way back to the campsite.”

You all ended up grilling burgers over the fire, Harry surprising you with some hidden skills over the open fire, and together the four of you drank beers as the fire glowed between them. Nick had never surfaced and Harry didn’t have it in him to wake him, so he let him be. Harry, Sarah, and Mitch had started playing music after dinner and you kept yourself entertained by requesting old One Direction songs, which made Harry stare daggers at you but amused you, Sarah, and Mitch to no end.

It was a chilly summer night and you were cuddled up in a sweatshirt of Harry’s, having forgotten yours at home, and a pair of leggings. You could feel your eyes drooping, your entire concept of time gone without the ability to check your phone. It could’ve been 9pm for all you knew. After a rendition of Landslide, you yawned and stretched your arms above your head, and decided to call it a night.

“I’m going to turn in,” you said, standing up from the chair you’d been in for the past few hours. “Which way’s the bathrooms?”

Sarah pointed to the right, and you nodded. You had to brush your teeth and pee before you could go to sleep, and you had no desire to traipse through the woods at night to pee in the brush, so you started off in the direction of the bathrooms, your toiletries bag tucked under your arm.

“Wait!” You turned to see Harry walking after you, his own bag tucked under his arm. “Didn’t want you to walk alone.”

You gave him a sweet smile and waited for him to catch up with you. “You ready for sleep too?”

He shrugged. “Probably be up for a little while longer, if that’s not too disruptive? Mitch and I thought we’d work on a song I’ve been thinking about. Thought I’d go ahead and brush my teeth, though.”

“I like listening to you play as I go to bed,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you thought about them.

Harry’s eyebrows knit together and he studied you. “Never told me that before.”

Probably because it’s embarrassing, you thought to yourself. You loved listening to his music before you went to bed, especially the voice memos he’d sent you over the years of bits of songs he was working on before they were fully mastered. They were more raw, less produced, the stripped down Harry that you loved. “You never asked.”

He filed that information away for later and you climbed the steps to the bathrooms, both heading into the same free stall. You’d stopped caring about peeing in front of one another a long time ago. You went first, listening to Harry prattle on about a book he was reading that he thought you’d like as he washed his face. When you finished up, you switched places and you started brushing your teeth, stealing his toothpaste because it tasted nicer.

“You should just buy some for yourself,” he commented.

“But I can use yours for free.”

He didn’t reply, just let you be, and you brushed your teeth next to one another, Harry knocking his hip against yours to make you smile.

“Glad you came,” he told you when you exited the bathrooms.

“Me too. Needed this, I think.”

“Same. Missed you, too.”

You studied his face, barely visible in the moonlight. His stubble was growing in, but he had a peaceful expression you rarely saw in him. You saw it in moments on tour, sometimes--when you were cuddled up on his sofa watching a film after a show, or after a morning run on a day off. But here, this was the purest form and one you wished you saw more often. You didn’t tell him, though. You’d had that conversation before--how you were worried he was overworking himself, believing that he was able to work so much after years in 1D, working with barely any breaks. You wanted his solo career to be different, but Harry had a tendency to find work even when he wasn’t touring or recording. He loved it so much that it was all he wanted to do. “Missed you too,” you replied simply, and leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

Mitch set down his guitar and looked at Harry across the fire from him.

“What?”

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

With that, Mitch turned and went to where Sarah waited for him in their yurt, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. It was quiet, aside from the crinkle of the fire. Harry couldn’t remember when he fell in love with Y/N--there wasn’t some specific moment like they say in the books. It just...happened. The more time he spent with you, the closer you got, the more Harry hated leaving you. And when you dated other guys, it made his stomach turn to be around them. He tried to pretend like it didn’t, he tried to be nice and polite as you were to the girls he tried to date, but he knew he never was. He hated the way you would look at him when he’d make some snide remark, and he could feel the disappointment radiating from your stare. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go.

He’d tried to bury himself in work, in touring, in women. He’d lived in LA for months to try and get over you, he’d even dated Kendall fucking Jenner to try and get over you. Nothing helped. Camille had been the closest he’d gotten, but there had always been something holding him back. When he’d found out she cheated on him, it was a relief more than heartbreak--he didn’t have to be the one to break up with her this time. And he always went back to you, pretending to be more broken hearted than he was just to get you to spend days on end by his side, eating ice cream and watching films that you thought helped him. In actuality, it was you who helped him. It was being by your side, it was laughing with you, going on walks, even fucking gardening with you at his house in Hampstead. Anything with you healed him.

And he knew it wasn’t fair, using you like he did. But he couldn’t help himself--it was the time when he could almost pretend you were his. It was when you ignored everything else and focused on only him and that attention is what he craved. You, together, no distractions. It’s what he wanted this weekend to be, but then you suggested inviting friends, and how could he say no to you? How could he tell you he just wanted to be with you for the whole weekend, the rest of the world forgotten?

Mitch’s words, though, were a stab in his heart. He’d always convinced himself that there was no way you could feel the same. You had fallen in love, you’d told him. With Tom. Bloody Tom. You’d met at some networking dinner and he’d asked you out, and from then on it was Tom, Tom, Tom. You had dated for a little over a year and Harry despised every second of it. Tom treated you like dirt--belittling you in front of your friends, in front of Harry, even, controlled your time and your friends. Boxed you in like you were some animal just there to please him, no life to speak of. It had happened while Harry was on tour and then in LA, so he hadn’t been there in person for most of it, and when he had been around you two together--whe he came home for the holidays and saw you, you had played it off. Said it was nothing, just a joke.

But then her college roommate Jordan had called Harry, worried out of her mind about you. Told him how Tom treated you, all the things he’d done, how he’d manipulated you--hit you one time. Jordan was in New York City and work wouldn’t let her leave, but she knew Harry could go. She told him it was getting bad and he had to get you out. And so he did. He took the next flight out, barely packed a suitcase, and went. He went to your apartment and told you that Jordan had told him what happened, and you two had a massive fight over it, you defending Tom, Harry trying to convince you he had manipulated your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, and you both ended up in tears before you finally let him take you to his house to stay for a few weeks. And together, you’d pieced his fierce Y/N back together.

And all that time, he had never thought...He never thought you’d loved him. Not as he did, at least. You’d told him so many times that you loved him, but it was just as a friend. You’d made that clear in the ways you touched him and introduced him to people. He was your Harry, but just your friend. Your best friend, but friend all the same. It broke him, as much as he tried not to let it show. But for you to feel the same way? All this time?

And what did Mitch expect him to do? Bust into your tent and admit his undying love for you, you to admit you felt the same way, and for you to ride off into the night together? This wasn’t some romance novel (which Harrry knew Mitch read, even though he tried to hide them). This was reality, and in reality, it was just Harry, writing songs about you that you’d never understand the true meaning of, and a yurt shared with Grimmy.

He stood up, his guitar held tightly in his hand, and put out the fire before heading into the yurt. Nick was spread eagle on the bed, still somehow asleep--Harry had never understood his ability to sleep literally all day--and snoring. Loudly. Harry sighed and went over to his suitcase, tugging off his jeans and sweatshirt and folding them neatly into the case. He pulled a henley and pajama pants on, knowing if Nick woke up to a half naked Harry in his bed he’d most definitely not let him hear the end of it, and walked over to the bed. He tried to shove Nick over and make space for himself, but the man was most definitely stronger than Harry had realized.

Had he been working out lately?

Harry gave his arm another shove, but Nick didn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, Nick,” Harry said. “Do you have to seriously sleep like the dead?”

He looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything he could fashion a makeshift bed with. But there wasn’t even a spare fucking blanket.

Maybe Sarah and Mitch would have one? Then he pictured walking into the couple’s yurt and immediately decided against that idea. That left you. You’d slept in the same bed before, albeit usually while drunk--maybe you’d let him sleep with you? Just for the night?

Harry slipped on his flip flops, grabbed his flashlight and made his way over to your yurt. It was quiet except for the sound of your soft breathing and he immediately felt at peace, despite what his mind told him. He unzipped the front of your yurt and stuck his head in. It was dark and he could barely make out your figure, curled up tightly under the covers, hair strewn across the pillow.

“Y/N?”

After a beat, he saw your body shift and your head stick up from the pillow. “Harry?”

“Can I sleep with you? Nick’s taking up the whole bed and snoring like a train.”

You giggled--and Harry’s heart started racing--and then said, “Of course. C’mere.” You lifted the edge of the blanket and Harry toed off his flip flops before walking over to the bed. “What time is it?”

He laid down next to you carefully, not wanting to brush up against you and make you uncomfortable. “Dunno. Late.”

You reached out for him, fingers brushing against his henley right over his stomach, and Harry’s heart seized. Did you know what you were doing to him right now? “Why are you lying there straight as a rod? I don’t bite, you know.” Probably not, he realized. You had no idea what the mere touch of your skin did to his heart.

“Don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice quiet in the silence of the yurt.

“You don’t, silly. Now c’mere.”

He moved closer to you and you turned onto your side so that your back rested against his chest, and he wound his arm around your stomach loosely, holding you to him. You’d laid like this before, after your birthday earlier in the year when you’d gotten quite drunk and he’d brought you home so you didn’t choke in your own vomit. You’d snuggled into him then, just like you did now, and he tried to think of anything to get his dick to stop from plumping up under his pants.

“H?”

“Yeah?”

“What was your song about?”

His breath caught in his throat. Had you heard it? It was so obviously about you, so unabashedly telling you how he felt. God, every song was about you. Even when he tried to make them less specific, when he tried to remove the details that would make it about you, you still left a residue.

“Harry?” Your voice broke his thoughts, so sweet in his ears. He opened his eyes, which had closed while he thought, and looked into your hair. He could smell the remnants of your perfume mixed with the fresh smell of oak from the woods and the essence of smoke from the fire. He wanted to bury himself in your smell, in you.

He should tell you. He knew he should. It was the perfect time--you were giving him the prompting. But he didn’t have the courage. “Did we wake you up?”

You rolled over and suddenly your face was mere inches from his. He could see your eyes in the dark, bright blue in the night. The ones that were painted in his dreams, echoes of you that never let him go. “Thought I heard something in the woods. Heard you instead.”

How much had you heard, he wondered. Had you heard his conversation with Mitch? You had been asleep when he had come into the yurt, so you had to have fallen back asleep. “What’d you think of it?”

You stared at him, your gaze searing through the protections he tried and struggled to keep up. “It was sad,” you said simply.

“Hmm?” He mumbled, not really knowing what else to say to that. Of course it was sad, he was in love with his best friend and he didn’t have the balls to tell her.

“The opening lines,” you whispered. “Put a price on emotion/I'm looking for something to buy/You've got my devotion/But man, I can hate you sometimes,” you sang it, perfectly in tune, hitting every note as he had around the campfire with Mitch. Your voice singing his words broke him in two, for some reason. They were the most honest ones of the whole song, he thought to himself, and the ones he was least likely to change. “Who is it about?”

Her question had changed. When you asked the first time, it was what. Now it was who. He studied you in the dark, searching himself. Could he muster the courage?

“Camille?”

“No,” he said, his words immediate. “No, not Camille.”

There was a rustle of the trees, but your eyes didn’t leave his. “Are you seeing someone new?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

He took a deep breath, and then, he pulled the words from the depths of his heart. “It’s about you.”

It was silent in the yurt. He couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. But your eyes didn’t leave his. He watched as your brain processed his words, pieced them together, matched them up with the song.

“Test of my patience/There's things that we'll never know/You sunshine, you temptress/My hand's at risk, I fold.” You said the words, no song to them, just words, flowing from your lips as poetry, not lyrics. “You...Me. Things we’ll never know--that’s us?”

He nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind your ear that had come loose.

“You've got my devotion,” you whispered, the opening lines coming back around. “That’s about me?”

“Yes,” he said, the word simple, soft, quiet in the dark. But it took every ounce of his courage. It was worse than when he’d decided to go solo, it was worse than going out on stage alone for the first time, worse than stepping on the X-Factor stage. The hardest words he’d had to say. “Y/N,” he whispered, summoning the last of his courage, “the songs are all about you.”

That made you go quiet for longer. You stared at him, taking inventory of every part of his face. He could feel your eyes and he didn’t even squirm--it felt different than it did when you usually looked at him. It felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Like a veil had been lifted between them.

And yet, you said nothing.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, the words breaking him. “I--I can go.”

But you pressed your fingers to his chin, instead. “Don’t go,” you whispered and this time it was him who stared at you. “I--I’m scared.”

“I know.” Your eyes blinked at him, eye level, so close he could see nothing but the rim of the blue, your long eyelashes he’d always admired. “I just...I can’t pretend anymore, love.” The nickname, long used between them, suddenly took on a new meaning in this moment. He could feel the shift in the air, the way the word landed between them. It slipped from his lips without him thinking about it, but he meant it in every which way.

You ran your forefinger along the edge of his jaw and Harry’s breath caught in his chest. “Me either.”

And then, you pulled his lips down to meet yours and it was like Harry’s world bottomed out. Your lips were soft, just like he’d imagined them, and you tasted like sugar and the watermelons they’d had for a snack after dinner. The hint of toothpaste lingered and it made him smile, remembering how you’d spoken in the bathroom. His fingers wound their way into your hair and you let out a soft moan that set Harry’s skin on fire.

Your teeth tugged on his bottom lip and Harry rolled you onto you back with a groan, begging for more, for anything you would give him. The kiss was deep, passionate, without end. You barely pulled away to breathe, wanting to never stop touching him. Your fingers crawled up his arms, across his collarbones, fire left in their wake.

Harry balanced above you on his forearms, head dipping to meet your lips over and over again, his fingers curled into your hair that was spread out on the pillow. Your legs tugged apart, letting him slot himself between them, leaning into you. It was like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.

“Y/N,” he said, pulling back from your lips just an inch so he could speak. “I--I don’t want to do anything if you don’t--”

“I want you,” you said, your hands drifting from his shoulders to cup his face between them. He leaned into your touch and you smoothed your fingers across his cheekbones. “I’ve always wanted you. H, you’re everything to me.”

His lips found yours again without a second beat, and you pulled every ounce of his heart from his chest with your lips. The sheets rustled under their bodies as they moved, begging to get more and more of each other. Your hands wound under his shirt, tugging as he leaned back, pulling it off, the chilly night air nipping at his skin. You sat up, Harry balanced precariously on your lap, and pressed kisses to his skin, licking over his swallows.

Harry let out a moan, not being able to hold it in, but didn’t stop her as you made your way across his skin, claiming it as your own. He couldn’t hear anything but you--it was consuming, the feeling of being this close to you. Your teeth bit into the skin on his collarbones, sucking a bruise he knew would be there tomorrow, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He wanted the world to know he was yours, that he loved you with every fiber of his being, unashamedly.

“I’m yours,” he said, his voice edging on a moan as you licked across his nipples. “Yours, Y/N, I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” you replied, and leaned back, tugging off his sweatshirt, which you’d worn to bed. You were bare underneath, and you could feel Harry’s eyes on your skin, learning you. Usually, you felt studied under the gaze of a man, but now, with Harry, you felt admired, adored, loved. His hands kneaded circles into your breasts and you arched into him, moans leaving your mouth in breaths.

You felt his tongue on your nipples, just as you had done to him, and your fingers gripped into the curls of his hair. “Fuck, H.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your sternum. “So, utterly beautiful.”

You leaned back onto your hands, chest rising and falling as he made his way down your body, inching farther and farther back on the bed until he was on his stomach, lips hovering above the waistband of your sleep shorts. His eyes met yours in question, and you nodded, words failing you.

“Need to hear your words, love,” he said, kissing your bare skin just centimeters above the bow on her shorts. “Want to make sure that you’re sure.”

“Take them off,” you said, struggling to speak as he licked your skin. “Touch me, H, please.”

And he did. He tugged your shorts down your legs, underwear coming with them, and pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, nipping love bites into the skin there. “You know, I dreamed of you last week,” he said against your skin.

“What?” You squealed as he sucked on the sensitive skin at the crease of your thighs.

“Of you, like this.” Then, he licked a stripe up her clit and you buried your hands in his hair, holding him there. “But in the dream, I couldn’t smell you.” He sucked on your clit, and you struggled not to scream his name. Your friends would hear and the last thing you wanted was to deal with that in the morning. “I couldn’t hear you,” he said, licking you again, and your head flailed to the side. “And I woke up before I could do this.”

And then, he dove his tongue inside of you, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, holding in the moans that begged to fly free. It was heaven, his tongue. Delving into her like it was made for you, curling inside of you and rubbing the front of your walls delicately.

“Harry,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet, “more, please.”

He wasted no time pressing his finger to your clit and rubbing you in circles, causing your chest to arch from the pleasure. You could feel a knot building in your belly, begging and begging for more.

“Please, H,” you let out in a moan, and that’s when you felt his own moan against your skin, the vibration of the stubble on your skin causing you to shake against him. But his free hand anchored your hips to his lips, and he continued his work, licking in and out of you, then up and down your folds, drawing soft moans from your mouth over and over again.

“Wanna hear you,” he said softly against your skin, “please, love, wanna hear you.”

“Don’t want to wake them,” you replied, struggling to look down at him. But when you did, the sight of his head between your thighs, hair a mess, eyes gleaming up at you in the dark, it ripped a moan from your chest that you couldn’t contain.

“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t give a fuck about them. S’just us, yeah?” He kneaded circles into her skin with his hands and sucked harshly on her clit, your hips bucking in response, but he didn’t let go. “What d’ya want, love?”

His words were rough, broken from pleasure. You loved the way he sounded, having never had the opportunity to have him this way. “Fingers,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” His one hand left her hips and circled your entrance, drawing your wetness around his fingers. “Fuck, love, you’re so wet.”

“H,” you breathed out, “please.”

That’s all he needed. He dipped his forefinger inside of you, your tight walls gripping him like a vice. But to him, you were virtue--you were everything to him, everything good in the world wrapped up in a single person. He curled his finger, brushing against a spot that made you squeak and he smiled before adding a second finger. “Come for me, love,” he said, sucking on your clit. “Wanna taste you.”

And that’s all it took. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, your hands gripped in his hair, keeping his face there as he licked your clit softly, drawing shock waves from your body over and over again. You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch him as you came, and he held your eye contact as you did. When he pulled his fingers from you and sucked on them, you just stared at him, wondering if this was real. If he was real.

“Taste sweet,” he said, crawling up your body, pushing you down onto the bed with the weight of him. You loved it, the feeling of his skin on yours, of his body on yours. “With an edge of sourness.” He pressed his lips to yours, and you licked into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. You hadn’t been this turned on...ever, you realized. “Tastes good,” he said against your lips.

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Felt good too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re good at that, you know.”

He chuckled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. “Can’t wait to do it again.”

You captured his lips again, arms winding around his chest, pulling him into you, closer and closer until you couldn’t find the space between you. And then, you rolled, taking him with her, leaving him on his back and you flush to his chest. “Some other time,” you said softly, drawing back. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he let out, gaze travelling up your body as you sat back on his hips, bare center brushing over his pajama pants. “Want you too, baby.”

You smirked at him. “Baby?”

He blushed. “Sorry, it just--”

“Shh.” You pressed a finger to his lips. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You rolled your hips over his erection and he bucked up into you, not being able to stop himself, drawing groans from both of them. “Wanna hear you, H,” you whispered, tossing his words back at him. “Hmm?”

“Take ‘em off.” He bucked his hips again, and you smiled down at him. Your fingers curled around his pants and his underwear, and crawled back, pulling them off together in one motion, just as he had done to you.

You held him in your hand, brushing your thumb over his tip, the pre-cum slick against your skin. Your tongue licked a stripe up the underside of him, drawing a moan from his chest as you laved circles around the tip of his length.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “Not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he said. “Need--”

“I know,” you replied. You pressed another kiss to him and clamored back up his body. “Wouldn’t have happened to bring condoms, would you?”

“Fuck,” he said, “no, wasn’t exactly planning this.”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, trying to calm the panicked look in his eyes. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his touch consuming you. “I’ve got the implant,” you said, “if that’s ok with you.”

“I’ll pull out,” he said, leaning up on his elbows. “Promise.” Then your lips found each other’s and you rocked your hips against him, the slick of you dripping down onto his length. He swallowed your moans and you did the same, the dark of the night wrapping around you, encasing you in a world that was just the two of you.

You reached down and ran your fingertips along his length, brushing his tip against your slit, the feeling sending tingles down her spine.

“Please,” he begged beneath you, fingers digging into your hips to where there would probably be marks tomorrow, “please, Y/N.”

When you slid down his length, your eyes shut from the sensation of him stretching you. You didn’t stop until he had bottomed out, you hips flush against one another. You could feel his eyes watching as you adjusted to his size, to the burn of him inside of you. It was surreal to have him like this, to have him so close to that you couldn’t find where you ended and he began. To have his lips find yours as you began to rock back and forth on him, open mouths meeting like old friends, begging for more and more and more. It was heaven, you decided, this was heaven on earth, this feeling. Your head snapped back when he bucked up into you, hitting a deep spot that made your arms shake. And then he ran his tongue down your exposed neck, nipping and biting into your skin, whispers of your name like an echo around them.

You wanted all of him. Every single part of him, you wanted to have his laughter and his smile and his words and his thoughts and his love. You wanted his body in the morning and the night and across the distance. You wanted him to hold you in his arms always, to care always. To you, he was hope, he was a bright spot in a sea of darkness. He was the antithesis of your exes, of Tom, of the men who had used you up and left you in a bed of nails. Harry built you up, stoking your fire with actions that showed you how much he cared, never wavering from your side, always running back when you called. No matter how far he went, the residue of him never left your mind, body, or soul.

Harry’s arms caged you in and suddenly you were on your back and he was above you and inside of you and everywhere. His fingers danced across you skin as his hips snapped into you, moans drying in your throat because you could barely think from the pleasure zipping through your body.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he said, words darting through the fog, “I love you.” He was holding you so tightly in his arms that you wondered if he thought you would run. As if you wanted to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, close to him, breathing him in and out.

“I love you too.” The words left you without hesitation and you pressed your lips back to his as you chased your highs together, his hips never stopping. He pulled one of your legs high on his hip, reaching a new depth inside of you, and you scrabbled at his back with your fingers, leaving marks in your wake. “Right there,” you whispered against his shoulder, biting softly into the skin there.

He pistoned his hips in and out, hitting the spot over and over again. “Yeah? Right there, baby?”

You had always joked he had a praise kink, but now that you had him, you knew you were right and good lord did you feed right into it. “So good,” you mumbled, “so good Harry, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, tongue darting to the spot under your ear when you turned hyourer head, choking on a moan when he thumbed your clit. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Gonna tell you every day. Never going to stop now that I have you. Finally.”

You dug into his ass with your heels, keeping him deep inside of you. Hands grabbed skin, and you basked in the heat that surrounded you, the sweat that stuck their skin together. It was perfect--he was perfect, he felt perfect, it was as if you were made for one another. Somehow, every movement he made was better, he navigated your body like he had the only compass and it was carved into his heart.

Every part of you ached, ached for him and for release. You could feel it rising inside of you, taught like a string, begging. “Oh my god,” you whined, spasming around him. Your hand gripped the back of his neck and dragged his head back to you, fingers digging into his warm skin. Your lips met as he pumped into you over and over, drawing moans from them both that never stopped. You loved that he made noise in bed, that he told you how good you felt, that he made sure you knew how incredible it was. Every kiss pressed to your clammy skin was a reminder of how much he loved you.

“Fuck.” A guttural moan escaped him when you clamped down on his length, your orgasm threatening to rip through you. “Not going to last, baby.” His forehead rested against yours as he dug into the sheets with his fingers and toes, using every ounce of his energy to bring you both to the brink. Your fingers scratched against his shoulder blades, gripping him close as you arched into him.

“I’m close,” you said, words ragged, “so close.”

“Come,” he breathed out, “please, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow, the salt of his sweat against your lips. “Come inside me,” you whispered to his skin. “Want to feel you.”

His head turned, eyes meeting yours. “Sure?”

You dug your heels into his ass in response, gripping him like a vice to you. A moan ripped through him as he dug deep inside of you, pulling every piece of your love from her chest, just as you did to him. Then, he kissed you again, your name a mantra against your lips, and with that, your orgasm ripped through your body.

He chased it with every brush of his hips, running after you as you soared and fell. You held him close as you came down, struggling to find your breath. But you didn’t want him to move. You wanted to feel him, to see him, to hear him finish. And when he did, it was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. His eyes bore into yours, teeth dug into his bottom lip so deep it probably drew blood, fingers curling tightly into the sheets on either side of your shoulders. Slowly, his hips came to a halt and you could feel his cum inside of you. The air was silent except for your breathing as he rested his body against you, not pulling out.

You two laid there together, your arms wound around his waist, running your fingers up and down his back, his fingers threading through your hair. It was as if you were waiting for the words, because neither of you had them. What do you say after that?

Harry moved to pull out of you, but you held him fast. “Please,” you whispered, “just…”

He shushed you, knowing what you meant. You wanted him close. After denying your feelings for so long it was like they were consuming every inch of you, overwhelming your brain and your heart. Having him close helped tether you to the ground and you couldn’t let go. Not yet.

“Love you,” he said softly into your hair. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Love you too.”

“Think they heard?”

You giggled against his skin and you could feel his smile. “Probably. Don’t care that much, though.”

“Me either.”

You were quiet for a second before mustering the courage to ask the question swirling through your brain. “You’re not going to leave in the morning, right?”

He lifted his head and looked at you. “Never.” Then, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips and tucked his head into the space between your shoulder and your neck, his breath even against your skin.

And you both laid there, adjusting to what it felt like to finally have the one person you’d always wanted, praying that when the sun rose nothing would change.

talk to me about camping!harry here | masterlist here

#the bucketlist fic challenge #friends to lovers and camping all in one babies!!!!#friends to lovers #camping!harry #Harry Styles Fan Fiction #Harry Styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot

2K notes · View notes

castielgurl · 3 years

Text

Football is a game, Love is like a battlefield

Romanogers Week

Prompt: Enemy to lovers

Natasha Romanoff is a football player of Russian descent. Red-haired with a dreadlock style, she likes to wear piercing on her nose and hates makeup. She likes to change the color of her hair, sometimes braided or even short hair exactly like a man. She is very fierce and does not care about negative comments on her Instagram page. As a famous female soccer star, she is often the victim of attacks by male soccer fans. They said she shouldn't play football, it's better to stay in the kitchen. Just because she’s a women’s soccer player. Natasha is often involved in anti-social media bullying campaigns.

Natasha is now at the peak of her career. She has joined the big London -born club Chelsea Woman`s FC with the highest transfer value in the market. Has won the Women's English Premier League. Won the European Cup with her country Russia. She is a midfielder who is the team captain for her club and country. Natasha has just been awarded European Player of the Year. Natasha is a person known for her assertive leader character and violent style of play. However, Natasha's life changed forever when she met her future husband.

Steve Rogers had a bad boy image. Even so, he became a young girl’s craze pretending to know about football. Because he is a tall, lean body, six-pack, white skin, blonde hair. Every time he played football, the girls would scream like they were hysteria. Steve has of course been dating a bunch of beautiful women from models to a famous actresses.

Like Natasha, Steve is also a world-famous football player. He represents Chelsea FC, has won the Premier League title three times. Won the Champions League with Chelsea with him as the top scorer. Steve also represented his country USA at the World Cup. He is the captain of his club and country team. Steve is a striker who is known for his fast running style and energy as strong as a bodybuilder. Steve has won World Player of the Year twice.

Because they play at the same club. The two finally met on the training ground. The training fields for male and female players are only separated by a fence. Since the two of them have opposite characters of course disaster is about to happen.

It all started just because of a ball. Steve was challenged by his teammates for a crossbar challenge he kicked too hard accidentally falling into the women’s training field area. The ball, unfortunately, hit right on Natasha's head. Natasha's face flushed with anger. She then shouted and ask who kicked the ball earlier. Natasha took the ball, she knew the ball did not belong to the women’s team. Natasha went across the fence to the men's field area and kicked the ball hard against the body of one of the male players. He was not in pain but the player turned around.

“Who is the dumbass who kicked the ball? You better talk now! ” Natasha's voice was fierce.

"Eh, why are you shouting. Are you on your period? ” The blonde man laughed cynically.

Natasha was very angry, not that she didn't know who the player was. Steve Rogers aka football Hollywood star. But Natasha didn't care who he was.

“Are you too stupid? Don't know how to play football? Why do you kick the ball and hit people`s heads? You want my feet to reach your face? ” Natasha insisted on fighting even though she is too tiny and Steve was six feet tall.

Steve laughed when he heard this little woman scold him. He was not immediately intimidated by Natasha's threats. She was like a puppy that barked loudly but was too cute. This woman with dreadlock hair reminds him of rapper Snoop Dog.

“This is a football field, what do you expect? of course, the ball flying everywhere why are you so angry? If the ball hits your face that's a good sign. At least it can fix your face” Said Steve as his friends laughed as well.

Natasha's face grew red. Then she tries to elbow Steve's. Steve wants to fight back but his friends stop him. They said he only looked like a coward if he hit a woman. Steve assured his teammates he would not use the physical.

"You are too rude. Do you think you're good-looking? I know guys like you, playboys, and sleep with a lot of women. But the fact is you are nothing. No one loves you. They are just riding on your success. ” Natasha stared sharply into Steve's eyes. That's when Steve slightly faded his ego. Because the green woman's eyes were so beautiful Steve admitted it. But he returned with his ego.

"I am not afraid of you. Your body is small. I can carry you and keep you in my pocket ”said Steve with a cynical smile.

"You start first. Why don't you just apologize? ” Natasha doesn't understand.

"If you are still not satisfied. What do you say we play a game? Whoever wins will have the right to ask the losers to do what they want. ” Steve wanted to challenge her.

"What game?" Natasha asked

“We play matches with five players per team like 5-A Side. We play on the East End outdoor field boys versus girls. What do you want to say? ” Steve is sure Natasha did not back down from a challenge.

“Well, we will meet tomorrow at 5 after training. But you have to do what I want. Don't begging when you lose later ”Natasha did not hesitate to agree. She wanted to teach this man a lesson.

"Fine, I will see you tomorrow Snoop Dog," Steve said while laughing at Natasha's reaction.

Natasha’s teammate asks her if she seriously wants to fight with the men’s team. Natasha is sure they can win.

"Nat, are you sure about fighting with male players. They are not ordinary players. They have just won the European League they are World-class players. Steve is a highly-skilled player. ” Her friend Yelena tries to change Nat's mind.

"Hey, don't be afraid, we are also the best team in Europe. Male and female players are the same. What matters is the strategy to win. We are equal with them. After all, Rogers needs to be taught a lesson. If his team loses he and his team must wear a drag queen costume. Imagine how funny that is. ”Natasha was convinced

"I think Steve is hot. How can you talk to him, if it happens to me I will be speechless ”said Yelena who is a Rogers fan

“Hey, don't you see that asshole? You didn't hear him call me Snoop Dog. ”Natasha cannot believe Yelena.

Yelena continued to laugh out loud. She admits it's very funny. Yet Steve spoke the right thing. Natasha is not good at dress up. Many times Yelena wants to do a makeover with Natasha. But she rejected it because she thought the way she dressed was not important because the performance is what matters.

“Really? You laughing. Well, his face is not bad. But on the condition that he cannot speak up. On his forehead he should be written Jerk, then people will stay away from him ”Natasha really hated Steve's sloppy mouth.

"Nat, you have to be careful because too much hate can lead to love" Yelena teased

"Hey you don't see us anymore we are the worst enemies from the past life"

The next day.

Natasha has selected five players including herself Maria, Wanda, Yelena, and Hope to represent her team. While Steve chooses Bucky, Sam, Scott, and Clint on his side.

"You call me Snoop Dog, I also have a bad name for you" Natasha and Steve meet in the middle of the field before the match starts

"What is it?" Steve stood with his hands on his hips

“Barbie Kent. If your team loses you have to wear a women’s dress to the training session. You will definitely lose ”Natasha said confidently

“Woww you are playing dirty now huh?. If your team loses you and your friends have to wash my car in a bikini ”Steve said with a smirk.

Natasha should teach this man a lesson.

Natasha’s team took the lead with a goal from Wanda. Steve initially wanted his friend’s not to play rough because they were girls. But after the goal, Steve told his teammates to use their full strength. After that, a lot of fouls ensued. Steve's team managed to score two goals from Steve`s. The match was not the most interesting but various incidents of fights between Steve and Natasha quarreling over various issues. Everyone was so depressed to see them both throwing hurtful words at each other. The sexual tension between them is very obvious. Before the end of the match, Natasha successfully scored an equalizer. She jumped for joy in front of Steve. Yet drama ensued when Natasha’s team asked the referee to consider a penalty when Bucky tackled Maria inside the box but was objected to by Steve. Eventually, they quarreled and everyone else was only able to see them quarrel. All the players have given up and just want to end the match. The result of the match ended in a draw. No one loses no one wins.

“Why don't you two go in the room and just make love? Seriously that's the solution to your problem, ”Scott told them

Their reactions were both disbelieving and showing disgusted faces thinking they were both going to have sex. Natasha definitely wants to vomit. Eventually, they returned to their respective homes feeling dissatisfied.

Then every day Natasha bumps into Steve. Because they practice in the same building. Somehow every day will definitely come across. Natasha wanted to avoid seeing Steve's arrogant face. They will meet before entering the training ground, in the club cafe, in the gym, in the parking lot, in the elevator. Wherever they will surely meet. Every time Steve would tease Natasha he deliberately wanted to make her mad. Call her Snoopy, and ask when she will release a new rap song and so on. Of course, Natasha hates Steve’s jokes. Natasha will also ask where he is partying with the barbies.

Steve's day was not complete if he didn't see the redhead's face every day. Natasha's face flushed when she was angry, her husky voice when she grunts, he loved hearing Natasha fight back when Steve teased her. She was a bit funny when angry, she was a little fierce but she looks cute when her face was red, she will bite her lips when she felt disgusted with the words Steve threw, it was a sexy lip for Steve. Also, her tiny size when trying to standing on her toes. Steve has met many pretty women, yet Natasha catches his eye. Natasha is not the same as other women. Honestly, Natasha is very beautiful but if she changes her appearance, surely many men will chase after her. Steve imagines she wearing a red dress with curly hair for sure he will be mesmerized. She is just as passionate about football as he is. Most of the girls he met were not interested in football. Steve searches all the information about Natasha on the internet and stalks her Instagram. His teammates knew Steve had lost his mind over the red-haired woman.

But the question is does Natasha want to accept him? And how does he get started? The woman must have hated him so much.

Then the football season is about to end, all the players will take a summer vacation. After that, they will join the national training camp in preparation for the World Cup. The Chelsea club hosted a Gala Night to award the club’s best players for the season. This season the club combines an awards ceremony for the men’s team and the women’s team.

When Natasha Romanoff’s name was announced as the Women`s Player of the 2021 season she took on the stage. Steve and all his teammates were speechless as she wore a sexy red gown. Her hair was styled in a curled and she ditched her piercing. She's the most beautiful woman Steve has ever seen. Steve starts to feel jealous because all the men are focused on her. Steve doesn't like other men looking at his women.

After Steve received the best player award for the third year he wanted to take his boots in the club boot`s storage room. But something unexpected happened Natasha was also there. Natasha thought Steve was going to make a nonsensical joke because of the dress she was wearing tonight. Natasha hates wearing it she was forced by Yelena. Yet Steve didn't say anything to her surprise.

“Why don`t you say something, like a bad joke? Yelena picks this dress ”Natasha expected a response from Steve.

“Why should I do that? Do you want me to fight with you until we are both old? ” Steve continued to pick up his boots on the top rack.

Natasha came to stand behind Steve. “What is wrong with you today? This is not you. ”Natasha knew something was wrong

“Do you know who I am? Do you really know me? ” Steve turned and stared into Natasha's eyes. Inside he wanted to drag the woman into his arms. Because she looks so pretty tonight. But he keeps his composure.

The question startled Natasha.

"I just don't understand why you like to fight with me. There are many more female players out there that you can choose to fight. ” Natasha still doesn't understand what Steve's intentions are.

“You really want to know the truth. Well, I'll tell you now. Because I love to see your angry face, I love to see your red face, your lips, your staring eyes, your sexy voice, your feet when trying to stand on your toes, your style before kicking the ball. You are really cute. I like you Natasha ”Steve approached Natasha closer

Natasha doesn't believe in Steve Rogers' words. Maybe he drank too much alcohol.

"Actually I love you, Natasha Romanoff. All I do is to get your attention. ” Steve said as he stared into Natasha's eyes.

Then Steve grabbed Natasha's chin and kissed her lips. Natasha froze and couldn't resist the man's kiss. Then she realized and pushed him away and ran out of the room.

When she returned home Natasha could not sleep. Her heart was pounding after being kissed by Steve Rogers. What the hell? Steve Rogers expressed his feelings to her. Natasha turned to the right and to the left trying to forget the man but in her heart, it was like in turmoil. She thought Steve hated her and she hated him too. Yet she turned out to be wrong and unable to resist his charmed. Kissed by Steve like she was struck by lightning.

The next day Natasha and Steve meet again on the training ground. Natasha looked at Steve from a distance and waited if the man wanted to taunt her or laugh at her. But he was so different he just kept quiet and even stole Natasha's gaze when he thought Natasha wasn't looking at him. And when Steve and Natasha meet in the hallway Steve stares at Natasha's face. Like Natasha is the only person who is on his mind every day. Steve and Natasha just stood nearby and stared at each other. Their teammates bump them who were staring into each other’s eyes. Wondering what really happened between the two of them.

A few weeks later Natasha and Steve flew to Qatar to compete in the World Cup. For the first time, the men’s team and the women’s team will compete at the same time. Natasha and Steve both focused on the biggest tournament of their careers. Natasha, who represented Russia, excelled in the competition. And her team managed to win the World Cup for the first time. But of course, attention is given to men's football. Steve Rogers stole the show by winning the golden boots award and Player of the tournament. Even though the USA only made it to the semi-finals, it was still an incredible achievement. Natasha watched the semi-finals matched in the stadium with the fans. Steve spotted the red-haired woman easily despite a hundred thousand people in the stadium. Natasha let her hair down and donned a USA jersey while cheering for his team.

Natasha then turned around to show the jersey she was wearing with Rogers' name on the back. Steve smiled when he saw that and she giving him a flying kiss.

After the match, Natasha and Steve met in the tunnel. Their teammates force them to acknowledge each other’s feelings.

"I also really like you, Steve Rogers. So are we going to date now? ”Natasha asked Steve.

"There are only two things in my mind that are football and you. You drive me crazy. Let`s date then ”Steve said while opening his both arms.

Natasha who is only five feet three tall looks cute jumping to hug Steve Rogers who is six feet tall.

"Even though I didn't win this match, but I won your heart," Steve said as he swings around Natasha on the air. Then they kissed in the tunnel of the football stadium. The kiss happened so passionately that they didn’t notice the photographer was taking a picture of them. The breaking news when the two big stars of world football are couple overshadow the story of the England team winning the World Cup.

A few years later Steve Rogers and Natasha were about to get married and it became the wedding of the year as the union of the two best football stars in the world had sparked a phenomenon. All the tabloid newspapers have already started figuring out how their child will be born later because he or she is will definitely a great football player because of the DNA of both their parents.

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #romanogersweek #captain america #black widow #stevenat

34 notes · View notes

dinogoofy · 3 years

Text

Kabal × reader

Flowers for broken hearts

It's an angsty one boys

Ok, just for reference, this is gonna be a really weird timeline, and we're gonna pretend that revenent kabal was revived with Jax, but went straight back to the black dragons, ok? Ok.

Like normal, sexual scenes are implied but not explicit.

TW for violence.

----

You had always loved mornings, but honestly it was only because of the man you woke up next to each day.

The birds were tweeting softly from outside the window, and you tried to stretch in the warm, early morning sun, only to find out that you were stuck.

Your fiancé's warm body was curled around you loosely, still asleep. You smiled, he definitely deserved the rest, especially after last night. You snuggled into Kabal's bare chest, breathing in the scented remnants of the awful Axe cologne he still used.

Kabal hummed at the movement, holding onto you a bit tighter and nuzzling into your hair.

"Good 'morning, sunshine." He groggily spoke, rubbing your back up and down as you cuddled close to him. That early morning voice of his never failed to make your heart flutter.

"Good morning, handsome." Kabal smiled, kissing your head. You sighed, content in the warm bed. The fuzzy, happy feeling in your chest blooming as you pressed your face into his neck, lightly kissing his smooth skin. You could feel the rumble in his chest as he faintly chuckled, somehow pulling you even closer to him.

"Tryin' to get me going this early in the morning huh? Such a naughty girl…" You gasped, fake offended as you slapped his chest.

"Kabal!"

"What? You and I both know you find me irresistible-" You laughed, covering his mouth with your hand and pressing your forehead to his.

"Oh, shut up! Stop being such a cocky bastard, or I might just stop kissing you all together!" You could feel his smile from underneath your fingers. Before you knew it he had flipped you over on the bed, your back pressed into the cushion as he leaned over you. His loose, long black hair falling around the two of you like a curtain.

"If that's the case, I guess I'll have to start stealing them from you, Dear~" The bubbling laughter in the room was infectious as Kabal pressed kisses to your forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids, anywhere where he could get really. The fuzzy feeling bloomed once again, and for a moment you were reminded that this was indeed your happy place. You caught his face in your hands with some effort, and pulled him into a soft kiss.

Kabal eagerly pressed into you, sliding one of his hands up your arm to gently lace with your own hand. What a wonderful way to wake up.

Unfortunately, the soft moment was cut short as His phone started to ring. Kabal broke this kiss for a moment, and heavily sighed. Pressing one last quick kiss to your lips before getting out of bed. You frown at the loss of contact, but didn't refrain from ogling his butt as he stood.

"My eyes are up here, Babe." Kabal jokes, not even turning back to look at you as he picks up his phone, opening his dresser in the process and grabbing some pants.

"Stryker, whatcha got for me?" It felt like your heart sunk into your stomach upon hearing the name. It was supposed to be Kabal's off-day! The whole reason the two of you had moved to the country just outside of New York City was so Stryker would stop calling kabal into duty so randomly.

You knew how important this job was to Kabal, so you never protested when he did leave. You put up with him during the awful, random merc jobs that he had while working with the black dragon. You couldn't be mad at him for working an extra shift for the station every once in a while.

At least you don't have to worry about that Kano asshole and the black dragon showing up unannounced. You thought. At least there's that.

Kabal let out another heavy sigh as he hung up the phone, running around the room to gather his things in a hurry. He looked worried.

"Is everything alright?" Kabal shook his head as he threw a shirt on. Rushing over to press a kiss to your head.

"Something weird is going on in the city. He mentioned something about Outworld fusing with earthrealm… or something like that. Said I needed to get my ass over there right away." Kabal cupped your face in his hand, running his thumb along your cheekbones in a soothing manner as you frowned.

"Just come back in one piece, ok?" You tried not to let your voice waver as you spoke. Kabal chuckled, leaning down to give you a hug.

"I'll do my best, sweetheart." Your chest tightened as he let go of you to rush out the door.

"I love you." He turned around with a bright smile on his face.

"I love you too." And just like that, he was gone.

It kinda felt like he took your heart with him.

It's been a long time since Kabal walked out on you. It's been rough. The tears, the heartbreak. He hadn't contacted you. No voice-mail, no messages, nothing. You had started to wish that Stryker hadn't even told you that he was alive. But he did. And now all that's left to do is get over him.

That wasn't quite as easy as you thought it would be.

"Hey kabal, I'm just...calling to check in on you. Call me back soon, alright?"

"It's me again. I know I've been calling your work phone a lot, but I'm really worried."

"Could you please, just- just pick up the phone? Just once? I miss you."

"Our wedding date is- was supposed to be next week. I...I won't be mad if you come back this late… just please, come home."

"It's… *hic* it's me again um… we um… went out tonight. They told me to give it a rest. Heh, but I know this line's still active! Stryker *hic* told me so. He wouldn't lie right?"

"..."

"I'm going to stop calling this phone soon. If you can hear this...I… *sigh* nevermind. This is useless. I'm sorry."

----

After Kabal left, you saved your money and quit your job. Turning the land around your home into a flower farm, you had already lost so much, why not give back to yourself? Your favorite hobby became your favorite job, and soon enough you had made enough money to build a little shop on the property just a little closer to the road. And my oh my, was business booming.

"Hey Mrs.Cameron! How've you been?" Mrs. Lissy Cameron and her wife were once your wedding planners, and then they became your #1 customers when you opened up shop. She smiled at you, and you carefully took the premade bouquet of flowers from her to ring it up on the register.

"I've been wonderful! Sarah's been asking to come here all week, so I figured we might as well stop by on our way back home." Her wife scoffed, playfully swatting at her.

"Please, we both wanted to drop by. Lissy has been obsessed with your hyacinth bouquets since you did the floral arrangements for Janet's wedding." You giggled sweetly, telling them their total and carefully bagging their flowers. When you looked up to take Lissy's card however, the two of them looked worried.

"Is everything ok?" Sarah sighed at the question, reaching out to take your left hand. Your chest started to squeeze up.

"You're wearing it again." You solemnly looked down at the ring on your finger. Letting out a curt, sad laugh. You hadn't noticed that you had put it on this morning. You were kinda on autopilot when you woke up after sleeping through your alarm, and had to rush to open up shop. It must've been simply out of habit. It had taken a while to stop wearing it, as it partly carried the hope that he would be back. But he wouldn't be, and you knew that. But every once in a while…

"I hadn't even realized. Thanks for letting me know." They gave you a pitiful look as you slipped the ring off your finger and set it next to the register. Lissy gave you a soft smile when you finished ringing them up.

"Hey, Sarah and I were going to get drinks tonight with a few friends. You could tag along if you'd like? I'm sure you'll meet some interesting people." Lissy wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you laughed when Sarah slapped her arm for it. Sarah turned and gave you a soft look.

"You don't have to Honey," She paused. "But it might be good for you to get out of the shop sometime. We barely even see you outside this place." You tried your best to smile at them, but it came out sorta lopsided.

"I'll think about it." Lissy gave your hand a reassuring pat, taking the flowers and waving goodbye as she and Sarah went out the door.

"Take it easy!" You smiled sadly at the words.

"I'll try."

----

Today had been the busiest day you've had in a while, but it felt worth it in the end as you closed up shop. The setting sun casting a warm glow through the many windows. Creating a perfect, calm setting to close everything up. You tidied the flowers that were left over from the day, replaced the water in the vases, even swept.

You had gone out and turned on the sprinklers for the bushes and blooms outside, coming back inside to mop before you had to run back out again to turn it off and finally, finally turn in for the night.

The water sloshed around as you set the bucket down to start mopping near the counter. When you stood, your eyes caught on the ring again.

That stupid, beautiful, ring that never failed to put a damper on you mood. You slowly staggered toward it, gently picking it up in your hands to examine it.

It had always been the most beautiful piece of jewelry you owned, it was a shame that it wasn't used for some other couple. Preferably one that actually worked out in the end. As you traced the outline of it you started to wonder where Kabal was right now. Was he ok? Was he married so soon? Did he have kids? Or maybe he was just dead. You didn't know which one hurt worse.

You sighed. You couldn't keep doing this. You couldn't keep finding it, and thinking about him, and bringing the pain all back to the surface again. You just couldn't. You set the ring back down. Maybe you should take Lissy's offer up. Drink your woes away.

A noise caught your attention, kicking you out of your thoughts. A clay pot rolled across the floor as you looked up.

"Hello?" You called out. No response. You slowly grabbed the bat you kept underneath your counter, and started to creep over to the other end of the shop, walking through the giant, open doorway that separated the sunroom, where the flowers are kept, from the shop.

There didn't appear to be anyone there when you got over that way, and you sighed, relaxing for a second. You leaned down to pick up the pot.

"Gotcha!" Suddenly a pair of arms forcibly wrapped around you. You screamed, and one of the arms suddenly moved from your waist and clutched your throat.

"Keep it down, or I'll fucking kill you." Still panicked, you managed to wrench an arm out of the man's grip and sharply elbow him in the side. He groaned in pain, and the split second he loosened his grip was enough for you to break from his hold and slam the pot down in his head.

He yelped in pain this time. Holding his now bleeding head. You held the bat in both hands now, ready to swing again.

"Get out of my shop! NOW!" You barked at him. He chuckled in a creepy, unhinged way. Smiling up at you with disgusting yellow teeth and spitting on the floor.

"I'll be damned if any of Kano's bitches tell me what to do!" You couldn't even process the words before he lunged at you again, you tried to dodge swiftly. Unfortunately, he was still able to grab one end of the bat. He used it to yank you closer and knock you to the ground. You desperately tried to push him off as he wrapped his cold, dirty hands around your throat, pushing all of his body weight there.

You tried to kick at him, but he wouldn't budge. Your nails clawed deep into the skin of his wrist, and even lashing out at his face had no effect. Your eyes started to get teary as you struggled to breath.

All you could feel was a rush of wind, and the man had been knocked off of you. He was launched into one of your tables of flowers, breaking it in half as he landed. You coughed, gasping for air. Thankful that you could breathe again. You felt so sore, but you still sat up, baffled by the events.

A new man was standing in between you and the attacker. He was clothed head to toe in frightening, thick gear, fists clenched. You wouldn't have known who it was. Especially not with the mask on his face, but when your eyes settled on the hook swords on his back…

It couldn't be…

A scream interrupted your thoughts. The new man holding your attacker up by his neck. He was screaming for forgiveness, for a chance to run. You stood, and the masked man stiffened, dropping the other into the mess once again.

"You've got two minutes to run." The attacker didn't even spare a glance at you before trying to bolt out the front door, slamming into it hard before frantically popping the lock open.

The masked man hadn't looked at you, but you, however, couldn't take your eyes off of him. He started to walk away when you called out for him.

"Kabal?" Your voice broke. He didn't turn back. He kept walking. Fury started to build up in your chest. You stormed over to him, grabbing him by the sheaths on his back.

"Where do you think you're going?! You come back for two fucking seconds and plan to leave just like that? Without an explanation? Fuck you!" Tears were running down your face now. He stops in his tracks, but doesn't turn around. He calls your name.

"That guy's gotta grudge against the black dragons-understandably. 'Managed to hack into some old files. He's been hunting down family and friends and killing them on the spot. Had a few 'mercs quit on us Kano gave me the order to kill him." He pauses. "That's the only reason I came back." You didn't flinch at the info that he was back with the dragons, but It felt like your heart shattered a second time when he spoke the last few words. This fucking asshole. you refused to back down.

"You know that's not the explanation I'm asking for." He didn't respond. But he didn't move either. You stepped in front of him. Looking straight into the eyes of his mask. Tears were still streaming down your face, your hands were shaking, you were so fucking mad, and sad, and destroyed. You almost wished he had been dead.

"Kabal. Where. The. Fuck. have you been." He sighed, and you couldn't tell if he was making eye contact- or even trying to, through his mask.

"Don't worry about it." You were clenching your hands so hard your nails started to bite into the skin of your palm.

"I swear to God, Kabal. You fucking left me without so much as a note. You're going to tell me why!"

"I don't have to tell you anything." He pushed past you forcefully, making his way to the door. For a moment you just stood there in shock. What was wrong with him?!

"Excuse me?!" He sighed, walking over to your counter.

"I'm not doing this with you today." You were bubbling with rage, not able to even swallow your sobs. Kabal had stopped at the register, frozen for a moment, and you took that chance to reach out and grab him by the shoulder, forcibly turning him around.

"In case you fucking forgot, our wedding was supposed to be two months after you disappeared on me. Do you know how much that Fucking hurt?! Do you have any idea how much it hurts now, you piece of shit! God just- at least just TELL me why!" Kabal stiffened, and you knew he was starting to become angry. Or maybe he was sad. You couldn't tell. No one spoke for a long moment as you tried to wait for him to respond. He didn't.

Your watery, angry eyes were glaring at him, and he watched as you walked behind the counter. In a moment of uncontrollable anger, you snatched the ring up and forced it into his hands. His shoulders slumped immediately when he realized what it was.

"Get the fuck out of my shop." Your hands were shaking, your face was still flushed, eyes red from the tears, but you didn't look away from him. He started to call your name, but you interrupted him.

"GET OUT!" Your voice had gone hoarse. Kabal didn't budge. Slowly, very slowly, he reached up to his mask. As he took it off. Your guarded expression immediately faltered.

His face was horribly scarred. You sucked in a breath from pure horror for a second. Burn scars all over his face. You looked at his hands, his neck. He was scarred everywhere. His face twisted in disgust as he analyzed your face.

"You really wanted to know that bad, huh? I left you because I already knew what you would think, what you would say if I came home to you like this." You were almost in shock, tears running down once again as you gently reached over the counter to touch Kabal's face. He flinched for a moment, but let you touch him.

"What happened?" Your voice shook, horror evident on your face. His face fell for a moment as you touched him, so terribly gently. He hard look in his eye softened.

"What does it matter? I'm horrific." You let out a sad, snarky laugh. Cupping his face with both your hands, caressing his cheekbones just as gently as he did yours the morning he left.

"Don't you remember the night you proposed?" He sucked in a breath, and your hands gently pushed his short hair out of his face before you reeled yourself in. You wouldn't touch him like this. It didn't matter why he left you, he still did it. But even then, your heart ached for him. Damn, you needed to see a therapist.

"I had quit the black dragon. I was asking what you thought of me joining the NYPD."

"And?" Your voice broke as you struggled to maintain a strict tone.

"...and?" You nodded tearfully, sniffling from all the crying. Kabal kept going. "We talked about my tendency to join violent fields. I… I had asked you if you'd still love me if I came home with bruises every night, just like I had used to." His face started to shift. You already knew he remembered what you were about to say. That flicker of anger started up in your chest as you spoke bitter words.

"I told you that I'd love you no matter how many scars, or bullet holes, or bruises you came home with, as long as you were coming home." Kabal's realization left a devastated look on his face, and no matter how bitter you felt, you couldn't help but reach for his hand. He held your hand back limply.

"...I kinda fucked that one up. Didn't I?" You laughed, a pitiful, angry noise.

"You did." You stopped for a moment. "You did." You felt numb as the words fell into a whisper.

"-But no matter how fucking angry I am, I don't think that statement ever changed, Kabal." He ran his thumbs over your knuckles, avoiding eye contact with you by looking down at them.

"... You'd really still love me after all this? After all the scars, all the time…" You pressed your lips into a line, sighing before squeezing his hand. His eyes started to water as your own began to dry.

"I..." It was difficult to say this. It really was. But you wanted him back. You really did. You wanted to give him that second chance. You wanted those sleepy mornings and the pillow talk and the awful food he cooks. You missed him so fucking much.

"It's gonna take a while, and certainly some couple's therapy, but Kabal…" You held his cheek again, lifting his head to look at you. You looked into his eyes and bit back what you were originally going to say. Letting out a pitiful laugh at yourself before doing your best to wipe that look from his face. You didn't owe him anything, but you saw an opportunity and took it.

"... I wouldn't mind seeing that ass in the morning again." Kabal was taken off guard for a moment, and you felt triumphant. He erupted in wonderful, happy laughter. Pulling you close from across the counter and kissing your forehead.

"How could I say no to that?"

"Kabal, weren't you supposed to take care of that one guy?"

"Shit."

#mortal kombat imagines #kabal mk11 #kabal x reader #mk11 kabal #mk11 #mk kabal #mortal kombat x reader #mk imagine #mk x reader

116 notes · View notes

louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Text

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Ok, so here it is!! I would have post it yesterday but unfortunately I lost 3000 words and had to rewrite. I love the friends to lovers trope and I think that INTHAF is unbelievably underrated, so I wrote this!! There is a smut part that I had to cut out, but I promise that I will post it separately later! (It was getting too long). Anyways, enjoy!!

October 2000

Aelin Galathynius had a terrible temper.

Her mother Evalin, since she was only a baby, used to announce to everyone that he had gotten her father’s temper. Unfortunately, her father Rhoe would add, she has got her mother’s impulsivity. Her uncle would then finalize it by saying it was a terrible combination.

And it was.

She could still remember the first day of grade 3. She was only eight, the youngest of her class filled with nine year olds, and had to promise her dad that she wouldn’t get into an argument or fight with anyone during the school hours. Later that day, when she and another boy arrived all sweaty at home, she would tell her dad that she obeyed.

Technically, she got into a fight after school hours.

Everything was fine during the day, to be honest. Aelin was excited to be a third grader, and her cousin and best friend were in the same room as she was. Aelin had no problem staying calm throughout the day as she stuck to Aedion and Lysandra. They had their classes, lunch, some more classes and Aelin was ready to walk home and tell her dad how well behaved she had been.

Until she saw the new student.

To be honest, Aelin hadn’t found him interesting enough to talk to during the day. The only thing that actually caught her attention about him was the silver hair, but he was so quiet, brooding and aloof that not even his hair made him seem interesting enough to Aelin go talk to him. She would have gladly lived the rest of her life not talking to him, but as she was walking home after the school bell rang and saw some of the kids in the fifth grade picking on him, Aelin felt curious enough to approach just a little to know what was happening.

Only to listen and watch. Stay out of it. You promised dad you would stay out of fights.

She was resolute on that up until the moment she actually managed to hear what the other boys were saying.

“Is it true you don’t talk because your accent is so strong no one would even understand you?” Hamel asked, but there was no childish ignorance in his tone. He knew what he was doing.

“I hear you and your father had to run from your country because he killed your mom.” One of the boys, Archer, was saying. “Are you a freak like your dad?”

The silver boy’s cheeks turned red, and he tried to walk faster through the snow. It was only fall, but snow usually came early to Orynth.

“Are you mad your dad killed your mom?” Archer pressed, and before she could even control herself, Aelin was walking in their direction.

“You guys are idiots.” She announced, getting the attention of the three boys. Archer rolled his eyes, but Sam just stared at her. Aelin ignored both, turning to the new student. “He’s not a freak, and he talks. I heard it before.”

It was a blatant lie, but the boy just nodded, some red leaving his cheeks.

Aelin crossed her arms, staring at Archer. “Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Archer imitated her pose, mimicking her voice.

Aelin felt that very bad temper stirring.

“Yes.” She said, matter-of-factly. “Because you look stupid, sound stupid and act stupid. No one wants to be friend with a stupid… asshole.” She said, putting in the last word and hoping that she was using in the right context. To be honest, she had heard her dad say it a few times but had no idea what it meant.

By the red now on Archer’s face, she had used it correctly.

“You little…” Archer started saying, coming on her. Thinking about it in the years after the event, Aelin would admit she could have handled the situation better, but at that time she had been only eight, almost nine, and a boy three years older was coming on her direction.

And so she let her mother’s impulsivity take over.

And so when Archer was close enough, she kicked him between the legs and ran like hell.

She could hear Archer’s grunt as she turned around, picked the new boy by the elbow and forced him to run with her. She immediately knew it had been a bad idea, and it would only cause Archer to pick on both of them for the rest of their school years, but she could worry about that later.

“You have to run.” Aelin grunted, pulling the silver haired boy with her. He hesitated for a second before gripping her hand and running with her. For the next four minutes, both ran all around the neighborhood, Sam’s steps not too far after them. Aelin hoped Archer was in enough pain to not come after them.

Despite the snow and the cold, Aelin felt sweat going down her back. She should have already been home, and as they ran, they just got further and further away from it. The new boy was breathing just as hard as she was, and they were too young at the time to be able to run much longer.

Suddenly, he pulled Aelin by the hand. The boy forced them out of the Main Street, taking a little path through the woods nearby. He ran a little bit more before arriving at a huge trunk. Breathing hard, he pulled a part of the wood away from the tree, revealing an empty inside. Without being told to do so, Aelin rushed inside, feeling her back pressed against the inside of the truck when the boy got in too.

They tried to remain silent as they heard Sam steps approaching. As in synchrony, they both let out their breaths as they heard Sam’s steps going away. The two kids waited an extra minute before leaving the inside of the trunk.

“Oh, I think I lost one of my gloves while we ran. Mom is gonna kill me.” Aelin turned to be boy, looking him up and down and then the empty tree. “That’s nice. You found it during the summer?”

He nodded.

“Ok…” Aelin said, somewhat uncomfortable. “Do you talk?”

He just nodded again.

Aelin felt her temper rising once more, and she crossed her arms, frowning at him. “Well, can you tell me your name then?”

The boy just stared at her in silence. He took a step forward, taking something out of his pocket and handing it to her. Aelin examined the black glove. It was like hers, even though a little bit larger, but she thought it would be enough to convince her mom that she had just swapped it with someone rather than have lost it.

“Well, thank you.” Aelin said, pocketing the glove. She stared him up and down again, shrugging to herself as she continued. “Wanna hang out? My cousin and best friend can’t go to my house today. Playing video game alone is boring.”

He immediately nodded, taking another step forward. Aelin turned around, starting to walk in her house’s direction. From the corner of her eye, she kept trying to analyze the boy. He didn’t seem like a shy person, so maybe he just didn’t like to talk?

“You know,” Aelin started, unable to withstand the silence. “You don’t have to talk. I can talk enough for both of us. But it would be nice to know your name. And where you’re from. I mean, I guess I would ask you some normal stuff but you don’t talk. I mean, you talk but don’t, right? You chose not to talk? I don’t think I’d be able to stop talking, it sounds boring. How do you ask for things? Oh my gods, what about when you need to go to the bathroom? Do you talk then? Why did you stop talking?”

Aelin stopped for a second when she saw the boy staring at her wide eyed. She blushed a little, realizing that she had babbled. Her dad would always laugh whenever she did that, and while Aelin didn’t mind it with her family, she didn’t know if this stranger minded her talking so much.

“Sorry.” She said. This time, when she started talking, she tried to go slower. “You know, if what Sam said was true and you do have an accent, I wouldn’t mind. I mean, I can learn to understand you. But if you don’t want to ever talk, I wouldn’t mind either. Did you have to learn to understand me? If you did, was it hard? Do you think we speak funny? How old were you when you came here?”

“My name is Rowan.” The boy— Rowan— said. He did have a strong accent, but Aelin found it rather nice how he pulled his Rs.

“You talk!” Aelin said animatedly. “Thank the gods. I mean, I could talk for both of us but talking alone is kinda strange. I think I would get used to it, though. Oh, or we could talk through notes!”

Rowan smiled a little at that, nodding. “I do believe you could talk for both of us. And it was strange to see how you all talked, but it’s normal now. I came when I was eight, but I’m nine now.”

Aelin nodded as if she understood even though she had never really interacted with that many people that spoke differently from her. Until now, at least. “That’s nice. Do you only talk to a few people? How do you communicate with people who you don’t like talking to? I have a cousin in Perranth who is mute, so the whole family knows how to use sign language to interact. If you prefer to use sign language, we can. Do you know sign language?”

“Aye, you talk.” Rowan said, but he didn’t make it sound mean. Actually, the smile on his face had widened. “I do not know sign language. I’m just really quiet around most people. If I ever need something I can ask, but normally I prefer not to.”

“Who do you talk to?”

“My dad. My cousins.” Rowan thought a little. “My friends back at home.”

“And now me.” Aelin said, as smug as an eight year old could be. “I’m the only person you talk here? Does that make me your best friend friend?”

Rowan blushed, looking down as they approached Aelin’s home. “You want to?”

“Of course.” Aelin said, frowning again. “Why else would I have invited you to hang out?”

“I—“

Rowan was interrupted by Aelin’s mom coming outside, scolding at her daughter. She took in the sweaty face, the clothes dirty because of the inside of the three and shook her head. “Not even a day, Aelin?”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

Her mom sighed. “It never is.”

“Ask Rowan!” She said, turning to him and narrowing her eyes. “Was it my fault?”

He shook his head, looking at Aelin’s mom. She raised an eyebrow at him, looking between the two kids.

“This is Rowan. He doesn’t talk to anyone here but me.” Aelin put her hands on her hips, smiling at her mom. “I’m his best friend.”

Evalin took in Rowan’s similar appearance, sighing again. “Gods help me.”

Aelin turned to Rowan, a smile on her face, whispering. “She likes you.”

He chuckled, smiling shyly at Evalin. She looked at him for a few seconds before giving a warm smile back. “I don’t know if that smile of yours means that you’ll keep Aelin out of trouble, if you’ll get into trouble with her or if you’ll be the person taking her out of trouble.”

“It’s Aelin. She’ll corrupt him for the second option.” Her dad said, coming from inside the house. He eyed Aelin and Rowan, a smile on his lips. “Let me guess, not your fault.”

“It wasn’t!”

Rhoe simply raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Never is, jellybean. It never is.”

Aelin crossed her arms, stomping into the house. She stopped a few steps inside, turning around to see that Rowan hadn’t moved a step. She sighed, imitating her parents. “Rowan, what are you waiting for?”

He looked at Aelin’s parents for a second before rushing into her house. He stopped near her, whispering so silently that only she could hear. “Can I call my dad?”

“Can he call his dad?” Aelin said, staring up at her parents. They looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Rhoe handed Aelin the phone, but she didn’t do anything with it. Instead, she just kept staring at her parents. “He only talks to me! You can’t be here!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Rhoe said, raising his hands. Her parents left for the living room, and only then Rowan called his dad. It was quick— Rowan let his dad know where he was and, surprisingly, discovered that his dad worked with Aelin’s mom.

“Thank you.” Rowan said, handing back the phone.

“It’s ok.” Aelin took it, running to the living room and giving it back to her father. “We will play video game. Do not go there! I’ll talk to Rowan and you can’t hear him talking.”

“Ok…” Her father said, but it sounded more like a question.

Aelin glared at him for a second more before turning around and going back to Rowan. She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him to the TV room.

“What just happened?” Rhoe asked baffled.

Evalin, however, was sitting relaxedly on the sofa, a newspaper in her hands and a soft smile on her lips. “Your daughter found a new best friend. He doesn’t talk around strangers. Gods, man, it’s not that hard.”

———————

December 2003

“Ro. Ro. Ro!” Aelin tried whispering. “Rowan!”

Rowan turned to her from his seat, eyes wide as if to say “What?”.

Aelin merely smiled, handing him a note over his shoulder. Although years had passed since they became friends and Rowan was more comfortable around Aelin, he still preferred to not talk too much around other people. He was always polite and quiet, and Aelin honestly didn’t mind his silence in public. They had other ways to communicate. Because Aelin was so close to Aedion, her cousin and Rowan became friends with time. The same happened to Lysandra and, since all three of them had learned sign language since they were little because of Elide, the three of them taught Rowan how to use it too.

Most times, however, they just shared notes. Aelin would always walk with paper in her pocket, and Rowan usually had a pen. They used sign language in more formal occasions, usually when her parents or his dad would tell them that bluntly sharing notes on the table while ignoring everyone else was impolite.

Rowan passed the note back, and Aelin smiled.

I can’t believe The Return of the King is out today. R u ready, Legolas?

Rowan’s terrible handwriting was right below hers. U only talked about this for six months. Ofc I am. And stop calling me Legolas.

Aelin eyed the teacher as she wrote a response, making sure that they weren’t calling any attention. It wouldn’t be the first time they got caught passing notes, and most times teachers weren’t really happy about Rowan and Aelin talking about The Mummy or The Goonies or anything else rather than learning math.

She passed the note to him, getting a response seconds later.

U love that I have nicknames for u. Shows the beauty in our friendship, Legolas. N Gods, u need to work on ur handwriting

U r a pain in the ass

Aelin was trying very hard not to smile, and was about to write another response when the teacher’s voice rang through the room.

“Aelin Galathynius and Rowan Whitethorn!” They both snapped their head up at the same time, and from the corner of her eye she saw Aedion trying to contain his laughter. “Again? I don’t understand how they let the two of you stay in the same classroom.”

Aelin heard Aedion snickering, and Lysandra too if the fake cough was any indication.

“The two of you are the bane of any teacher’s existence!”

“We don’t even talk out loud!”

“Galathynius!”

Aelin saw Rowan raising a fist to his mouth, faking a cough just like Lysandra had to hide his smile.

“The two of you are to stay after school today. If you’re so eager to play with paper during class, you can help me organize some files.”

Both Aelin and Rowan groaned, and Aelin was probably going to argue more had the teacher not turned back to the board. She continued the lesson as if nothing had happened.

It took less than a minute for Aelin to scribble something on the piece of paper, passing it to Rowan. When he saw the note, he shook his head in exasperation, but took it nonetheless. This time, when passing it back and forth, Rowan and Aelin were more careful to not call attention.

Can u believe it??? We r not even interrupting her

U don’t learn, do u?

Stop complaining. U r passing the not back to me. This is a group effort

Whatever u say, G.

Every time u play the bigger person in the friendship I want to shove my fist in ur mouth

“Oh, Gods, I can’t believe it! Seriously?” The teacher shouted again, staring at both of them.

Aelin tried to give an apologetic smile as Rowan closed his eyes and groaned.

—————————

November 2009

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Galathynius.” Rowan said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing an apple. “How are you two doing today?”

“I’m ok, sweetie. You?” Evalin asked, a maternal smile on her lips.

“Aelin is not home.” Rhoe said, looking up from his newspaper.

Rowan smirked. “I know.”

“I’m gonna start making you pay rent, boy.”

“Will you believe if I told you my dad said the same about Ace?” Rowan mused, taking a bite from his apple.

“I miss when you didn’t talk to us.” Rhoe said, turning to Evalin. “Don’t you miss when he didn’t talk to us?”

Evalin hit her husband on the shoulder. “You adore Rowan, stop being grumpy.”

“Yeah, you adore me, stop being grumpy.” Rowan’s smirk only widened as Rhoe’s eyes narrowed.

“My daughter’s arrogance is rubbing off on you.”

“If you can deal with Ace, you can deal with me.” Rowan replied. He motioned to the stairs, walking backwards as he still talked to Rhoe. “Now if you’ll excuse me, your daughter asked me to water her plants.”

“And then you leave.” Rhoe grunted.

“And then I will have a movie marathon in here with Ace when she comes back from Lysandra.”

“I mean it about the rent.”

Rowan only grinned, winking at Rhoe. “I’ll be in your daughter’s room.”

As he went up the stairs, Rowan heard Evalin laughing at Rhoe’s curse.

Rowan had been friends with Aelin for months before her parents even heard him saying a word. In the beginning, when there were people around them, they would talk through shared notes. Since the day Aelin asked him to hang out with her, they spent most of their time together. Everyday they would go to his or her house after school, she was always around him at school and now, almost ten years later, both of them remained as united as ever. More, even. They had reached a point in their friendship that there was little to no thing that they didn’t know about each other, that they couldn’t tell each other.

She never made him feel uncomfortable, never pressured him to talk when he didn’t feel like it. Rowan had always been a quiet kid, and Aelin had found that to be more of an extra thing she liked about him rather than an impediment in their friendship. She would say he was the stoic and intelligent silence to her witty and unstoppable words.

Aelin became part of his daily routine, and so did her parents. Rhoe and Evalin had always treated him as if he was family— Evalin as the loving mom and Rhoe as the very witty dad. He had never thought he would feel so comfortable around people that weren’t his family, but the Galathynius had gotten through all his barriers during the years.

Rowan entered Aelin’s room, throwing his bag and shoes at the floor by one of her bookcases.

“You know, if Aelin wasn’t completely insane, she would be watering you.” Rowan mumbled to the plants as he watered them. While she was a messy person overall, Aelin was very methodical with some things. Her books were always organized, she had crazy rituals for random things and a very strict schedule to water her plants.

He finished watering the plants, opening the curtains to allow some sunlight in. Unceremoniously, Rowan laid on Aelin’s bed, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“Your stupid plants have been watered.” Rowan announced when she picked up the phone. He put it on speaker, setting the device down on top of his stomach. “Where are you?”

“Left Lys’s a while ago, I’m at the supermarket. Anything you want?” Aelin said mindlessly. Rowan could picture her with the phone in between her shoulder and ear, attention focused on the products in front of her rather than on him.

“Celery.”

“Ok, I’ll buy popcorn.”

“I said celery.”

“I refuse to have a movie night with you if you’re gonna eat celery. That shit is disgusting.” She complained. “Besides, you’ll make me self conscious if you’re eating celery and I’m eating a bowl of chocolate. Be a good best friend.”

Rowan huffed a laugh, resting an arm above his eyes. “I don’t like chocolate, Ace.”

“If you had told me that years ago, I would have let Archer beat the shit out of you.” Aelin huffed, throwing something in the cart. “I’ll buy your stupid celery.”

“You love me.” Rowan smiled.

“You love me.” Aelin mimicked, her voice sounding stupid. “Shut the fuck up. And take a goddamn shower if you’re gonna stay in my bed.”

Rowan didn’t even take his arm away from his eyes, didn’t even ask how she knew he was sprawled in her bed. “Also, buy vodka.”

“I don’t hate you enough to let you have celery and vodka on a Tuesday night.” Although she tried to sound impatient, Rowan could picture the smile on her face. Imagining it, Rowan smiled too. “And I mean it, buzzard. Go take a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Also go to hell.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Rowan was laughing when she ended the call abruptly. He remained laying down for a few moments before getting up, groaning. He was only half awake as he went to the bathroom, picked the stuff Aelin usually left for him under the counter and took a quick shower. It was a good thing they had grown up together, because Rowan though it was very unlikely he would ever have a friend with as much intimacy as he had with Ace. Things like showering on each other’s house, sharing beds and spending most of their time together seemed strange to Rowan when he thought about it with anyone but Aelin.

They had been through elementary school together. Had made their class selection in middle school together so they would end up in the same classes. Now, in their last year of high school, they still tried to coordinate their schedules. Rowan and Aelin were applying to the same colleges, and although they were focusing on different areas, both we’re going to law. There was no Aelin without Rowan, or Rowan without Aelin. Neither of them minded, and things were so natural that it had never been a problem.

Rowan grabbed some shorts he had left at her house during the summer and one of the shirts Aelin had stolen from him, dropping on the bed again. He promised himself he wouldn’t sleep, that he would wait for her so they could start the movies soon.

However, when Aelin arrived at home forty five minutes later, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling. Rowan was asleep and, despite her absence, he had kept to his side of the bed. Aelin sighed, throwing her shoes and backpack where Rowan had thrown his. She went into the bathroom, changing from her jeans and crop top into one of Rowan’s old t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts.

Part of her wanted to wake him up. It was almost October and they had to make the Lord of the Rings marathon now, because they wouldn’t have time during the next month due to the 31 days of Halloween movies challenge they always did. And yet, Rowan seemed so tired and calm, that Aelin merely climbed up the bed and immediately fell asleep by his side. When she woke up again hours later, she noticed that it was already sunset, meaning they had slept for at least three hours.

Aelin groaned softly, rubbing her eyes and turning to face Rowan. She nudged him gently with her knee until his eyes fluttered.

“Let me sleep.”

“We’re watching Lord of the Rings. Wake your hulking ass up.” Aelin murmured.

“Sleep.” Was all Rowan replied, eyes still closed.

“Don’t you want to see Legolas?” Aelin asked, a sly smile on her mouth.

At that, Rowan opened his eyes. He glared at her, each second his glare worsening as Aelin’s smile grew.

“The joke is not funny anymore.”

“Yes, it is.” Aelin was smiling so much it hurt her cheeks.

“Is your whole personality based on acting like a bitch?”

“Yes, you should be aware of that by now.” Aelin said, sitting up. “Come on, Ro. Like old times? We make the tent over the bed and watch the movies together. I’ll make Legolas jokes and you’ll sulk pretending I’m not damn funny. We’ll probably fall asleep during the last one and wake up tomorrow to find out the tent fell on top of us during the night. Just like when we were young.”

“You are not funny.” He grunted, but also sat up. He ran his hands through his hair, and Aelin watched every movement in silence. When he finally turned to her, she smiled at him. “And the tent always fell because you’re shit at following instructions and always set it up wrong.”

“I’m hilarious.”

“Nope.”

“You’re boring, I’m funny. It’s the very essence of our friendship.”

“No, I’m a prick and you’re an asshole. That’s the essence of our friendship.” He smirked a little at that, and Aelin narrowed her eyes.

“Remind again me why we are friends.” Aelin said sarcastically, getting up from the bed.

Rowan simply laid back, arms behind his head. “You kicked someones’s balls for me when we were eight. Always had a terrible temper.”

“My temper always helped your sorry ass.” Aelin came back from her closet with the tent sheets. “Little Rowan couldn’t throw a punch.”

“See?” Despite what Aelin was saying, Rowan grinned. “A fucking asshole through and through.”

As much as she tried to contain, Aelin smiled, a breathy laugh coming out. “Yea, sure. I’m an asshole. And yet you’re still here after ten years.”

Rowan’s grin became a soft smile, and he got up to help Aelin with the tent. “Of course I am. Can’t leave you all alone after a decade, can I, Ace? You wouldn’t know how to live without me.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, huffing. She looked to the other side of the bed where Rowan was standing, holding the opposite side of the tent sheet.

Aelin then smiled when he winked at her.

———

June 2012

Since Rowan and Aelin had become friends, he had to hear that he and Aelin were each other’s half. He was what kept her grounded to Earth, and she was what kept him from having an awfully boring life. They were the perfect combination for best friends— one cautious and the other one reckless. Even Aelin would sometimes joke that Rowan was the prudent part of her.

In short, in their friendship, Rowan should be the smart one when it came to these situations.

And since he obviously wasn’t this time, it only made everything worse.

“I’m so happy to see you two!” Evalin said, hugging Rowan and then Aelin. “I feel like it has been ages.”

“Only a few months, mom.” Aelin said, a huge smile on her face. As much as she loved the freedom of living without her parents, Rowan knew she missed them dearly. “Me and Ro had so much to study, otherwise we would have come earlier.”

“College is a bitch.” Rowan added, earning a smile from Evalin and a wink from Aelin.

He quickly but discreetly averted his eyes from Aelin, looking at the house he had spent most of his time since third grade. His childhood and teenage years in that house had been happy and uncomplicated, only him and his best friend.

Things seemed everything but uncomplicated now, and Rowan wanted to punch himself every time he looked at Aelin and thought that maybe, just maybe, being more than friends wouldn’t be so bad. He couldn’t remember when the feeling started, nor could he understand how it could have grown so fast. He had always loved Aelin, but this was… it was different.

For most time, he tried to keep the feelings in check. He refused to distance himself from Ace, but he wouldn’t make a move either. They had been best friends for twelve years, and he wouldn’t throw all of that away only for the shot at a relationship.

“Me, Rhoe and Viktor will go out tonight, but we can all have lunch tomorrow.” Evalin was saying, looking at Rowan. He nodded, already knowing that from when he called his dad to let him know he was back in town. Evalin looked down at Aelin who was resting her head against her mother’s shoulder. “You two can stay here and order something.”

“Yeah, that was the plan.” Aelin said, leaving her mother’s embrace. She walked up to Rowan, resting her back against his chest. He tried his best to not perceptibly tense. He put his hands on her shoulders, trying to act casual. “Ro was thinking Thai.”

Evalin nodded, pointing to the kitchen with her thumb. “Jellybean, can you help me before you two go up? It’s something with the internet and you know how bad me and your father are with technology.”

Rowan smiled, and Aelin laughed. She walked up to her mom, turning around and walking backwards as she pointed at Rowan. “Don’t break anything.”

He rolled his eyes. “I have never.”

Aelin grinned. “Yes, you have.”

“That was you.” Rowan narrowed his eyes as Aelin entered the kitchen. “You broke it and put all the fault on me.”

She laughed, winking at him before disappearing.

Rowan stared after her, both glad and disappointed she wasn’t with him anymore. They were roommates and had almost every single class together, and so they spent most of their time with one another, meaning that Rowan knew that it was a stupid reaction. He shouldn’t be glad his best friend left, and he also shouldn’t immediately miss her.

Gods, he was pathetic.

Rowan’s head snapped up when he heard a chuckle from the stairs. When his eyes landed on Rhoe staring at him, he smiled.

“What’s up, old man?”

Rhoe’s smile turned into a grin as he went down the stairs. “Any reason why you were oogling my daughter, Whitethorn?”

Rowan’s heart stopped dead inside his chest, and he had to control his urge to cough, clear his throat, fidget or just straight up run. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhoe chuckled again, tapping Rowan on the shoulder. “You and Aelin were always terrible at lying when it was about your feelings for each other. Aelin was always great at pretending she hated the world when she was mad, but it was never convincing when she used to say she hated you because she was angry at you. It was all over her face and voice that it was a lie.”

Rowan shifted on his feet, crossing his arms. His restlessness made Rhoe smile even more. “You’re getting mad. Probably the age.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshiter, boy.” He announced, walking past Rowan to the kitchen. He was almost at the door when he turned back to Rowan, eyes strangely serious. “She wouldn’t say no, you know that, right?”

Rowan didn’t answer, only adverted his gaze. It was obvious someone would notice at some point, and it made sense it was Rhoe. Aelin’s dad had spent so much time with them throughout the years that if someone was gonna pick up on a change, it would be him.

“Wouldn’t say no to what?” Aelin asked, coming out of the kitchen with her mom. She quickly hugged her dad, giving him a kiss on the cheek before walking to Rowan. “And who’s she?”

“No one.” Rowan said, not taking his eyes away from Rhoe. He only smiled, winking at Rowan before hugging his wife.

“We’re leaving.” He announced, pulling Evalin to the doors. He looked directly at Rowan when he said the next words. “Behave.”

Rowan felt his whole face heating, and he wanted to tell Rhoe to fuck off. By the smile on his face, Rowan’s expression had taken care of it.

“Twelve years and you still think you can lie to me.” Aelin crossed her arms, looking up at him.

Rowan looked right back at her, and his heart skipped a beat as always. Rowan had always known Aelin was beautiful— it had never been an opinion, but a fact. With blonde honey hair, flawless creamy skin and a mouth that always seemed to be inching towards a smirk, Aelin could have been a model. Her body was just as attractive as her face, even though Rowan made sure he was always looking somewhere else other than below her neck.

Aelin Galathynius was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. And Rowan though she was also intelligent, and funny and wickedly interesting.

And he also knew that he was both very lucky and very unlucky. Lucky for having her as his best friend, unlucky for being completely in love with her.

Aelin usually wore heels, heeled boots or shoes that made her seem taller. Now, as she had discarded her shoes somewhere, she barely reached his chin. If Rowan ever had a death wish, he would tell her how adorable and non threatening she looked from his point of view.

“I have to keep trying, isn’t that right?” He grinned at her. She groaned, brushing past him. She started going upstairs, not turning around to see if he was following her.

Naturally, he was.

“Want to play twenty questions?”

“No.” Rowan answered, throwing himself at her bed.

Aelin crossed her arms, frowning down at him as she sat on the bed. “Stop being a little bitch.”

“The game is pointless. I know everything about you and you know everything about me.” Rowan noted, putting his arms in the back of his head. “What the fuck would you even ask?”

“What’s your favorite color?” Aelin asked, a grin on her face.

Rowan snorted.

“It’s ok, I know the answer. It’s me.”

“You?” He raised an eyebrow.

Aelin smirked, pushing herself to sit down closer to Rowan. Her hips were touching his waist, and Rowan was trying very hard to concentrate. “I’m your favorite everything, buzzard.”

Rowan merely laughed, not commenting on how right she was.

“Your turn.”

He rolled his eyes, but asked nonetheless. “You’ve been stressed out lately?” He smiled when Aelin groaned. She had spent the whole drive from the university to the house complaining about how stressful classes were and that she was about to drop everything and try to marry rich. “Yeah, me too.”

They were just making questions that they already knew the answer, exactly like Rowan had said.

Aelin raised her eyebrows suggestively, wiggling her shoulders. “Are you a virgin?”

Rowan choked on a laugh. He knew Aelin knew he wasn’t. “Yes, and I actually plan on dying one. College is already fucking me enough for a lifetime.”

Aelin guffawed, throwing her head back. Rowan smiled at her, his eyes trailing the slope of her neck. When she looked back at him, Rowan wasn’t so reluctant to keep playing this game if it meant Aelin would keep laughing. “Do you ever regret dating Cortland?”

Aelin groaned, and Rowan smiled. “Exes are prohibited here.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Stop smiling.”

“He was a bitch. I wanted to punch him whenever he went out with us.”

“Careful, Whitethorn,” Aelin mused with a grin. “Or you’ll start sounding jealous.”

Rowan scoffed. “Just ask your next question.”

“If you could take me anywhere in time, where would we go?”

Rowan stayed in silence for a few seconds before replying. “1999.”

Aelin’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

“I would have liked for you to meet my mom.”

Aelin felt her whole body constricting and warming at the same time. Through some nerve, she grabbed Rowan’s hand, sweeping her thumb gently on top of his knuckles. “I would have loved to meet her.”

Rowan very rarely talked about his mom, and Aelin knew him enough to know she shouldn’t push the conversation. In the twelve years they had been friends, Rowan only occasionally would talk about his mother. Aelin had so many questions about how she was, what their relationship had been like, but she also loved Rowan more than she was curious, so she never asked if h didn’t provide the information himself.

Rowan smiled up at Aelin, and it was filled with so much love and mourning that Aelin felt her heart skipping a beat. “You would have loved her. She was your type of person.”

Aelin smiled softly at him. Without thinking any further, she laid down in bed, resting her head on Rowan’s chest and their joint hands on top of his stomach. Rowan’s free hand started massaging her scalp, and Aelin closed her eyes as she breathed Rowan’s scent in.

“Do you think she would have liked me?”

“Oh, yes.” Aelin could hear the smile on his voice. “She would have loved you. You are exactly the type of person she wanted me to be close to. She always said I was too cautious, too calm. I needed some recklessness in my life, and since I mostly refused to go out during myself childhood and be reckless by myself, my mom thought that having a friend like that would be perfect. She would have adored your personality, and how important you were in my life.”

“She sounds amazing.”

“She was.” Rowan breathed.

“No wonder you turned out like this.” Aelin said and immediately felt Rowan gripping her tighter.

“Thanks, Fireheart.”

Aelin smiled, opening her eyes and looking up at him. Rowan was staring at her, and Aelin winked at him. “Whenever you need some ego boosting, Ro.”

He chuckled, still massaging her hair. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you be?”

“I like it here.” Aelin tried shrugging. She felt Rowan tensing, and a part of her wondered if she had said something wrong. She didn’t want to ponder on it, didn’t want to think about what it meant and how it would make her feel if it was true. Instead, she just changed the subject. “My turn. What were you and my dad talking about? And who is she?”

The question only made Rowan tense further, and Aelin raised, holding herself on her elbows as she looked down on him. “Nothing and no one.”

“Bullshit.” She spat, narrowing her eyes. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine. But don’t lie to me, Rowan.”

He sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “It’s nothing you would like to know.”

“Are you seeing someone?”

Rowan looked directly into her eyes, and Aelin resisted the urge to shift under his gaze. “Would that be something you wouldn’t like to know, Aelin?”

Aelin felt her heart beating stronger inside her chest, each beat sounding so loud that it was a wonder Rowan hadn’t heard it too. She refused to think about the question, just like for the last months she had tried ignoring every similar question when it came to Rowan.

No, she wouldn’t like to hear that. At all.

Instead of telling him that, she just shrugged. “Are you?”

“Careful, Galathynius,” Rowan repeated the same words she had said minutes ago. This time, however, there was no humor on his voice. “Or you’ll start sounding jealous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, forcing a snort out. The conversation had taken a completely different path than she had originally intended. It was enough to get on the bad side of her temper, and before she could even think about what she was saying, she raised her chin and replied. “What if I am?”

Rowan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Aelin wanted to punch herself. He stared at her in silence for what seemed to be an eternity. “Are you?”

She had fucked up, she knew that. Rowan had been the closest person to her for more than a decade, and even if she lied and said no, he would know the truth. She knew that she should have kept her mouth shut, should have dropped the subject. She had spent months trying to make sure Rowan wouldn’t even suspect that she was interested in him in a more than friendly way.

And she had fucked that up with a stupid teenager game.

There was no going back anymore, and maybe because of this Aelin felt confident enough to do what she had been aching to do for a while now.

She didn’t stop to think about how things would be after this, didn’t stop to think about what Rowan’s widening eyes meant as she brought her face down and pressed her lips against his.

Rowan was like a stone under her, and Aelin moved her lips softly on top of his. There was a voice in her head screaming at her, telling her to pull back and try to fix the friendship. She was going to do just that when she felt Rowan raising his hands, putting them on her hair as he kissed her back.

Rowan rolled on his side, one of his hands sneaking down to Aelin’s back to pull her against him. Aelin laid on the bed, one of her hand going to the back of Rowan’s head, her fingers playing with his hair.

Aelin bit Rowan’s lower lip, moaning when he opened his mouth, tongue sweeping over hers. She pressed herself against him, one of her legs intertwining with his.

“Ro.” Aelin breathed, arching her neck as Rowan kissed the expanse of her throat and collarbones. One of his hands sneaked inside her shirt, palm cupping her breast as the other one gripped her hair more tightly. Aelin ran her hands through his back, coming back through his front until she was cupping his face.

Aelin raised Rowan’s face back to her, kissing him deeper than she had before. Rowan’s tongue entered her mouth, and Aelin’s mind emptied of any thought that wasn’t about him. About his hand against her breast, fingers in her hair. All her focus was on how he was making her feel, and Aelin felt completely intoxicated by him.

Rowan put one of his legs in between Aelin’s thighs, pressing it against her middle as Aelin grinded her hips softly against him.

“Ace, do you—“ Rowan was breathing against her mouth, but was interrupted when they both heard the main door opening and voices filing in.

“I can’t believe you forgot you wallet, Rhoe!”

Aelin raised her head immediately, eyes widening when she saw the bedroom’s door open and heard her parents coming up the stairs. She rolled over Rowan, almost falling off the bed as she ran to the door and closed it louder than she intended to. She closed her eyes, putting her back against the door as she heard one set of the footsteps going in the direction of her parent’s room. The other one stopped in front of her door, and a hesitant knock sounded.

“Is everything alright, Aelin?” Her mom’s voice seemed more curious than confused.

“Yeah.” She answered, trying not to sound too breathless. “You guys are already back?”

“Dad forgot his wallet. We just came to pick it up but we are already leaving.”

“You sure you’re ok, Ae?” Her dad asked, having come back from his room.

“Yeah, yeah. We’re fine. Rowan just has a terrible habit of not closing the door after his tail enters the room.”

Aelin heard her dad and mom laughing. “Ok the, jellybean. We’re out again, we’ll see you later or in the morning.”

“Love you guys!” Aelin shouted as she heard her parents’ footsteps going down the stairs. She remained with her eyes closed until she heard the front door opening and losing again, and only then she opened them again.

Rowan was sitting on the bed, eyes stuck on her face. His cheeks were pinkish, lips swollen and hair a mess. Aelin supposed she wasn’t too much better.

They stared at each other in complete silence until Aelin cleared her throat, pushing her hair back from her face.

“Well if this isn’t a fucking surprise for both of us.”

——————

October 2016

Aelin though that the rice on the ground looked like snow.

Among the screams all around her, she could hear the church bells ringing, the soft song playing on the background.

She looked to her right, watching her newly husband grin at some of his friends from uni.

They both had wanted a small wedding, but both Rowan and Aelin’s parents insisted that they needed a big ceremony, something big enough to encompass their whole relationship.

Rowan turned to her, grin only widening as he realized she was smiling at him. “What are you looking at?”

Aelin shook her head, eyes closing when she felt Fenrys and Aedion throwing more of that rice thing on them. “Nothing.”

Rowan laughed, hugging her as they walked to their car. “Sixteen years and you still think you can lie to me, Mrs. Whitethorn.”

Aelin held Rowan’s face in her hands, kissing him deeply and lovingly before drawing back, a smile never leaving her face. “I have to keep trying, isn’t that right, babe?”

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @maastrash @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @annejulianneh111 @heirofthenightcourt @jlinez @courtofjurdan @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog

273 notes · View notes