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bratkook · 3 years

Text

eleven months. (m) myg. two.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: brief non-descriptive mention of death, otherwise none word count: 7k author’s note: here’s some more backstory on both of them as well as more interaction beyond yoongi hunting down an album by the cure lmao. like i said before, i’m really soft for yoongi in this story so lmk what you think! (also..because i hate myself and love piling up wips, theres mention of oc having a previous love interest that’s actually part of another story that takes place in this universe that’s a prequel soooo...coming soon lol) taglist (open): @min-yus summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

In the next coming weeks it becomes obvious that Yoongi is in fact a regular. His routine visits allow you to remember the usual days and times he’d pop in, so you knew if you’d be working on his chosen days.

Somewhere in between his casual drop ins, the two of you had formed somewhat of a friendship— or the beginning stages of one at least. Yoongi liked your sense of humor, how open and friendly you were to anyone you encountered, always having something to say about anything. Conversation came easy to you, never running out of stories. It left Yoongi thinking you’ve definitely lived about ten lifetimes compared to him.

In turn, you liked how he let you steer the conversation any way you chose. Most people would probably watch on in horror at the way you’d go from talking about a specific song or band, and then switching to a story about how you chased a pickpocketer during your travels before moving on to talking about your roommate’s cat. None of it gave him whiplash though, seamlessly flowing into the next topic with a grin on his face, never feeling like he had to think too hard to keep it going. It worked best this way. Yoongi was observant by nature, a great listener above it all, so if you were the one doing most of the talking it was fine by him.

Everyone at Rkive360 had taken notice that Yoongi’s usual five minute visits had turned into ten, and then twenty, until it became very clear he was lingering inside the store. No one told him anything, besides the fact that he was bestfriends with the owner and had immunity, all of you were fond of him. Taehyung enjoyed the sly remarks Yoongi would make, Sana just enjoyed ogling at him, Namjoon would never mind seeing him, and you would take any chance you could to attempt to wow him with your small knowledge of music.

It was a nice distraction whenever he stopped by, always heading straight to the back where the vinyl was kept. Sometimes he had a specific album in mind, other times he was simply browsing, but he only ever bought one at a time. It was routine, maybe even a weird ritual of sorts if he really thought about it.

On the days you knew he’d be coming you would spend a little extra time in the beginning of your shift picking out a few records to suggest to him if he didn’t have one in mind. Because of this, he had stopped his usual path to the bins and now came directly to you, the first stray off his usual routine.

Today you’re standing behind the counter, ringing up a customer when he walks in, a smile on your face as you chat away. He patiently waits at the far corner, leaning back against it as his eyes roamed the interior of the store, taking note of the way Sana and Taehyung were trying and failing to build a giant display. It looks like a mess of parts, scattered around with no instruction manual in sight— definitely Taehyung’s idea to toss it judging by Sana’s look of frustration.

He tears his gaze away from them beginning to argue when he hears you wish the customer a good day as they leave, pushing away from the counter and shuffling your way with a grin on his face. You smile back at the way his doughy cheeks push out, high points of them reflecting the light from above.

“Any shirt facts of the day?”

That had also become another common occurrence. Whenever you decided to wear a band shirt, he somehow always had random facts about whoever it was. It didn’t matter if it was some obscure french band or a 90’s rapper, Yoongi knew something about everyone, like some walking encyclopedia of musical artists. So when you take a step away and spread your arms out, he sees your shirt of choice today is The Doors, and he scoffs. Too easy.

“The Doors were the first band to ever advertise a new album on a billboard.” He nods his head slowly, almost as if he’s telling you yes I know, amazing right?

A hum leaves your lips at his fun fact, slightly impressed by it. “Interesting. Like always, I did not know that.” You peek under the counter top at the selection of records you kept stowed away for him, safe from any undeserving customers. “Now, do you want to see my daily, hand picked selection just for you.”

This was his new favorite pastime, getting to see the random albums you’d group together for him, wanting to know what you thought was worthy for him to listen to. When he nods, rubbing his hands together in excitement, you haul up the stack and carefully spread them out across the top.

The genre of the day was R&B, he can tell that much as he sorts through the albums. You’re familiar with the way he clumps together certain records, marking them down as albums he already owns, until he gets to an orange colored cover. The words The Internet fill the top right corner along with Ego Death on the bottom left. This he had never heard before. He picks it up and flips it over, scanning the song names with interest.

His eyes raise up to yours with curiosity, the same sharp gaze that somehow still makes you nervous holds the obvious question being passed between you with no need for words: are they any good? And the way you nod your head immediately convinces him enough. “Alright, I’ll give them a shot.”

A small sense of pride fills your chest, a tiny victory whenever he decides to pick something from your stack, trusting whatever music knowledge you had somehow convinced him you have. “I promise you’ll love them.”

When you hand him his change and the brown paper bag, you immediately check the time and clock out, dipping back under the counter and grabbing your bag from its hidden spot.

“Are you off?” Yoongi finds himself asking, no longer used to leaving immediately after he purchased something. The usual fifteen minute conversation you two had was missing today, and he’s not too sure how he feels about that.

“Yes I am, you were my last customer. The store will now be run by those two heathens. Here’s to hoping they don’t bite each others heads off while they finish building whatever the fuck that is.” Taehyung is now standing up, lazily holding up a part of the display as Sana tries to screw something together, angrily giving Taehyung commands but he only mimics her with a ridiculous face. And when she socks his thigh, her fist aiming a little too close to home, you let out a laugh.

Yoongi highly doubts that’s going to be possible, Namjoon would probably have to be the one left to finish building the display while also putting them on opposite sides of the store whenever he came in for the day. It was truly a shock that they had gone this long working together without an actual fist fight breaking out. If it came down to it, Yoongi had his money on Sana being able to whoop Tae’s ass.

“Do you know any good take out spots nearby? I’m starving and I’m still new to the area so I’ll take any recommendations.” Your voice snaps him back, his eyes looking at you briefly as the question registers within him.

“Oh, yeah. There’s a place not too far from here that has pretty good jajangmyeon.”

“Hell yeah.” Your hands pat your belly softly, coming up to readjust your bag as you walk around the counter and head for the door, shouting out a goodbye to Taehyung and Sana as you leave the store. When you exit the shop, your hand holding the door open behind you, you glance back inside in confusion when you spot Yoongi still standing by the counter with wide eyes. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

Truth be told, he had been wanting to talk to you outside of work for a while but he was scared to ask, not wanting to make you feel obligated to say yes just because he was a regular at your place of employment. Something about you seemed familiar to him, and to be quite honest he just craved social intimacy. His job consumed him and coming into this record shop was the small escape he needed, you being there was just a newly added plus.

You’re on the same page he is, wanting to hang out with him just as much as he had, something about the way he seemed like a half open book interested you. Throughout all of your adventures you had forced yourself to come out of your shell, no longer afraid or bashful when it came to initiating friendships. If you wanted to get to know someone better, then you’d bite first. And you definitely wanted to get to know Yoongi better.

It takes him a moment to react, his gaze switching from you to look back over at your coworkers, seeing Sana sending you a curious glance. Yoongi was about to attempt to muster up the courage to ask you to hang out and you beat him to the punch, but after a second he grins at you with a nod. Of course he was coming.

The weather in Seoul is forgiving today, the usual cold of autumn being prevalent in the air without the need to bundle up, the slight wind not stinging your skin as it blows around you. This was probably your favorite season, comfortable enough for you to do whatever you want without feeling restricted by heavy layers or sticky from the heat.

A soft smile is on your lips, hands shoved into the pockets of your baggy cardigan, and a small pep in your step as your eyes take in the world around you. That feeling you get when you visit a new town on vacation, how you’re just passing through for a brief moment in a place so many call home, it makes you realize how small you actually are.

It’s a feeling you always longed for, to experience a new place and make it home, it's the main reason you always bounced around so much. Staring at all the shops around you, taking in all the people just going about their daily life, you’re content with your new choice of scenery.

Too lost in your own head as you take in the shops and people around you, you snap out of it when Yoongi reaches out and clasps a hand on your shoulder, steering you to turn right when you keep walking straight. “Get your head out of the clouds.”

He hears the snort you let out, allowing him to guide you the correct way. Slowly trailing away from the main road, the amount of people lessens, only a handful of stores line up around the alley you had turned into. When you spare a glance at Yoongi you can see the excitement on his face, speeding up his pace until he’s standing in front of the restaurant. It’s a small hole in the wall shop that didn’t even look like it served food from the outside, all black exterior with a red sign hung up on top showcasing their name, Ipum.

It’s charming, and the way Yoongi spreads his arm out puts a similar smile on your face. Only then does he pull open the door, allowing you to step in first before he follows.

Once Yoongi steps inside he’s immediately greeted by the workers calling out his name in glee, bowing in response with a bashful smile as he approaches the small counter set up for take out orders, not needing to read the menu. You don’t realize he’s waiting for you as you take in the interior of the restaurant, the red dining tables surprisingly packed despite their lack of advertising outside. This place really must be as good as Yoongi promised.

“Anything specific you want?” he asks, finger pointing to the small menu in his hand in case you needed it. When you shake your head, letting him know he can order anything he wants, he does exactly that, placing two orders of jajangmyeon, along with fried dumplings and sweet and sour pork to complete it. It was his go to choices whenever he came, so he hopes you’ll enjoy it as much as he does.

As you step to the side, backs pressed against the wall closest to the counter in order to keep the space open for the workers and patrons to walk comfortably in the small shop, you turn your head to glance at Yoongi again. “You come here often?”

The way the workers had spoken to him had made that glaringly obvious, but you wanted to hear it from him, wanted to know if he came here for comfort food or some other weird tradition like his ‘one-vinyl-a-day’ way of life.

It was sort of a habit he had fallen into years ago. Having grown up in this city his whole life, he had stumbled upon this place his last year of high school. It had become a staple soon after, a place he would come to directly after classes were done to come stuff his face before heading home. Then it became a place his girlfriend and him frequented when the apartment they moved into turned out to be a mere block away.

In a way, the owners of this shop had become like a second family. The amount of times they’ve seen Yoongi at his best and worst throughout the years, never once throwing judgment his way even if he came in beyond plastered back in the years he used to drink, never turning him away even if he cried into his noodles.

He decides that’s a little too much to unpack right now, so he just nods in confirmation. “Yeah, I’ve been coming here for years. One taste of their noodles and you’ll be hooked too, trust me.”

Oh you trusted him, the amount of plates you’ve seen so far just made your mouth water once they passed by you and the smell of the food reached your nose. “We should’ve just sat down, I’m not gonna be able to wait until I get home to eat this.”

As you say this one of the workers approaches you two with a tied up plastic bag in his hand, the inside stuffed with takeout boxes and utensils for you to take. Yoongi grasps the bag with a smile and thanks him as he walks away. “Don’t worry, I live like a block away.”

He realizes how his words could be taken immediately, how he had assumed you two would innocently go back to his place to share a meal. You had invited him to eat but the location of where you would be doing so had not been discussed and the last thing he wanted was to come across as a sleaze.

His mouth was ready to back track completely, until he sees the way you dramatically place your hand over your chest, and he knows it's too late, “Oh damn, your place? Saucy, but I’m starving so I’ll do almost anything.”

You can see the way he relaxes when he notices you aren’t being serious, taking his words lightly the way he intended them. His eyes roll behind his lids, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he shoves your shoulder lightly to get you to start walking.

“Is jajangmyeon all it takes?”

“Slow your roll, good jajangmyeon is all it takes. I’ve yet to have a taste.”

Yoongi smiles at your words, taking the lead when you step out of the shop and turn back down towards the main street. His apartment was on the next block over, a short walk that you didn’t mind, especially since he took it upon himself to point at random stores you passed to let you know the best places to get what.

He has a lot of love for this city, the memories it possesses spread out through his entire childhood and early adult years, lingering in each crack on the sidewalk. He often sits and wonders how different his life would be if his parents had decided to move to Busan instead of Seoul, or stayed in Daegu altogether. The thought of the timeline of his life being altered so drastically to the point of possibly not being able to be living this moment sends his mind into a flurry, so he's grateful you’ve reached his front door now as his mind settles.

“Oh my god who’s this?” You coo as you step into his apartment, crouching down towards the white stone floors to pet the fluffy gray cat that greeted you, enjoying the way it purred and rubbed against your knee.

“That's Yuri, the queen of the house.” He steps away from you, setting the plastic bag on top of the kitchen counter a few feet away, his hands pulling out the containers and setting them down. “Don’t give her too much attention or she’ll never let you leave.”

Yuri glances up at you, her bright green eyes peering up innocently at Yoongi’s words, almost as if she was pleading for you to keep petting her. It doesn’t take much convincing for you to scoop your hands under her and press her against your chest as you stand up, your fingers gently scratching the top of her head. Yoongi lets out a sigh when he sees his cat has succeeded in wrapping you around her finger.

“Sorry, she’s too cute to not cuddle with.”

She nuzzles into your chest, purring in appreciation when your fingers trail down onto her spine. Yoongi watches you as he pops open the lid of the container that holds the noodles. Yuri is his baby, yet every time a new person comes into his place she acts like he doesn’t exist— well not until he pops open the container holding the sweet and sour pork. That's when her head pops up, her green eyes sharpening when she spots the food, and Yoongi glares back at the fluffy traitor.

When Yuri's fluffy body shakes slightly as you laugh Yoongi glances back at you, breaking up the staring contest he had going with his cat. “She’s gonna betray your love right now for some pork.”

You don’t doubt him, not with the way her paws start to push at your arms, attempting to stand up in your embrace until she’s hopping off from your arms and slowly walking towards Yoongi. She’s absolutely shameless as she rubs her body against his legs, and Yoongi can only look down at her before staring back up at you, gesturing out with his hands. “You see?”

The act of betrayal doesn’t sting, not when she’s as cute as she is. Instead you just chuckle, walking towards the stools Yoongi has by the oversized kitchen island, a breakfast bar set up at the end, the food spread out on top of it. He ignores Yuri for the time being, pulling out the stool beside yours and sliding into it. The both of you pull your chopsticks apart and get to eating instantly, swirling the noodles until they’re evenly coated in the sauce.

You try to ignore the way Yoongi blatantly stares at you as you bring up the first clump of noodles, waiting to see what your initial reaction would be to the food he held so near and dear to his heart. Yoongi knows this could go south so quickly, there is nothing worse than trying something new when you’re starving and having it absolutely suck. Sensing his nerves, you slurp the noodles up, and when the salty taste hits your tongue you hum, chewing them thoughtfully to make a show for Yoongi.

“Verdict?”

He waits patiently for you to swallow, sharp eyes analyzing your expression, seeing you lick your lips and grin at him. “You weren’t lying, definitely some of the best jajangmyeon I’ve had.”

In pure dramatics, he practically sags in his seat and raises a fist into the air in success, being able to properly enjoy his food now that he knew you approved of it. The two of you begin to eat in relative silence, the sound of munching and slurping filling up his kitchen space.

As the minutes go by, the back and forth of your chopsticks plucking out a dumpling after he did, lands with you snatching the last one. An evil cackle leaving you as you pop it into your mouth and grin at him, cheeks puffed out slightly and he can’t find it in himself to be irked at you snatching the last dumpling when you looked like that.

The compromise of that is you leaving the remaining pieces of pork for him to enjoy, and when Yuri gracefully hops onto the counter you see why he had suggested that. He grasps a tiny piece of pork on his chopsticks and feeds her like a parent would a toddler, airplane noise and all until Yuri opens wide and gently clamps down on the meat.

“She’s spoiled because of you.”

He merely shrugs, a giant smile spreading across his face as he watches her with adoration as she chews the food. “I refuse to confirm or deny that.”

As you finish up the last of your food you just watch on as Yoongi alternates between feeding himself and Yuri until no more pork remains. Seeing the soft way he acts with his cat just warms you up, Yoongi had always seemed like a blunt person from the times you’ve seen him at the store, his sense of humor is one that could easily be taken as harsh or cold if you didn’t match it, but you’d never expect to see him this way. The tops of his cheeks push out as he smiles at his cat, cupping her face between his hands and rocking it back and forth before planting a kiss on her forehead.

She seems to understand that that's her cue to hop off the counter, knowing that snack time is now over as Yoongi starts to clean up the empty containers. When you reach to clean your own mess up he’s quick to slap your hands away, smirking when you retract them with a small wince, your fingers rubbing the back of your palm that he had swatted with a pair of chopsticks.

“Shoo.” He waves his arm in the direction of his couch, not giving you another glance and missing the way you pout at how he had dismissed you like he would his cat.

With a huff you turn on your heel, properly taking in his living room. From the small tidbits of half truthful information that Taehyung had provided you with, you knew Yoongi was somebody in the music industry. You had always assumed that when people said that it meant struggling soundcloud rapper or something of the sort, but from the look of his apartment alone it was very evident that Yoongi was not a struggling soundcloud rapper.

The wall of his living room was lined with floor to ceiling windows, letting you catch a glimpse of the cityscape down below, the darkening horizon and slowly flickering street lights blending together. A dark grey couch was on the wall adjacent to that, directly facing the entertainment center he had set up, complete with a massive mounted television and soundbar, a collection of DVDs organized in the storage unit below it.

You walk closer to it, catching sight of the picture frames he had displayed along the top of it. They were all simple black frames, all differing in size, all of them having photos of Yoongi and his friends on them. The one in particular that had you smiling was a photo booth picture with Yoongi and Namjoon, they were accompanied by three other people, a boy with slightly red tinged hair and a bright smile, another boy with dark brown hair and a slight pout on his face from Namjoon squishing his cheeks, and a girl with light brown hair smiling widely as Yoongi gave her bunny ears.

Namjoon was a very smiley person, never needing a reason to be, but seeing Yoongi sporting a massive gummy smile had you realizing how nicely a smile suited him. It was clear that he held this group of people near to his heart considering they all occupied the remaining photos as well.

A couple of steps right beside that was where he had his prized possession, his record player that he had fully customized to get him the desired sound he was looking for. It was a sleek black, accents of silver shining off of it, resting pretty on a dark stained wooden stand. A few of his records were stored beneath it, but what really caught your eye was the eight by eight makeshift gallery wall that showcased his current favorite LP’s, each individually shelved to show the album art in all its glory.

“Should I give this a listen with you here?”

His question has you turning your head towards him, cutting your admiration of the album covers short. He stood a few feet away, his hands holding up the orange cover of the album he had bought today with your suggestion, and a small sense of nerves bubbles up in your stomach for some reason. You had always suggested music, confident in your choices when you were in the safety of the record store, but having to witness his first impression made you a little uneasy. What if he hated the band entirely, or worse, what if he pretended he didn’t hate them just to soothe your ego.

Is this what he felt like watching you take your first bite of food earlier?

“Sure,” you choke out, taking a giant step back from his record player, hearing him chuckle at your odd behavior.

As he lifts the cover up and slides the giant record out of its sleeve you decide to go sit on the couch, sinking into the plush material and welcoming Yuri into your lap when she jumps on as well.

With a few clicks, the low whirring is heard of the turntable beginning to spin. And when he eases the needle onto the record a small crackle sounds before Get Away starts to play. He fiddles with the volume slightly until satisfied, only then does he turn back around and join you on the couch.

His face is settled in thought, bobbing his head gently to the beat as he rests back against the couch, sinking into it with a groan until he’s fully comfortable, legs spread out with one arm resting casually on his lap and the other on the arm rest, fingers tapping along.

You watch on in silence, your fingers raking through Yuri’s fur until her purring calms your nerves and you’re sagging back. Before you know it your eyes shut as you listen along to the music, your belly is full and your limbs are sore from the unpacking and rearranging that had to be done at work so being able to sit here and shut your brain off while mellow music filled the room was what you needed.

Before long the A side is finished playing, Yoongi having to get up to flip it over until the B side plays all the way through, the ending voicemail of Palace/Curse playing until it fizzles out entirely, the room falling into silence once more.

Yuri had gotten comfortable herself, sprawled out across your lap with her head by your hip, but when Yoongi gets up with a stretch her head pops up, eyes narrowing at her owner until she senses no threat and lays back down.

“Verdict?” You repeat his earlier question, seeing him hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, his lips pursed in thought.

“Honest opinion?”

“Brutally honest.”

He hums with a sly grin as he turns his head to face you. “They’re good. Kinda makes me feel nostalgic too for some reason. But as a whole, it's great music that calms you down.”

With the way you’re laying practically boneless on his couch you can attest to that, they were definitely a band you listened to to unwind. He catches the wide smile spreading across your face as he stands back up to properly store the record, your smile only getting bigger when you see him replace one of the displayed albums on the wall with the new one.

“It's going on the wall of favorites,” he announces, sliding the previous record back into the storage underneath.

“I’m honored.”

He steps back from the wall with his hands on his hips, admiring how the orange of the album pops out against the others. Yoongi very rarely switched these albums out, but he had a feeling this wall would eventually become full of the random albums you’d recommend to him.

“Quick question,” he starts as he turns back to face you, taking in the sight of you and his cat cuddling together. “It’s been sitting at the back of my mind, and Taehyung has given me like three different answers.”

A small laugh leaves you as you raise your eyebrow at him in question. “Sure, what is it?”

“Where did you move from?”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, your toes just barely reaching the coffee table he has set up a bit away from the couch, Yuri mimicking your actions and stretching out as well. You were definitely gonna grow as attached to her as you were to your roommate’s cat.

“Like where was I last before this, or where am I actually from?”

He walks towards his fridge, still being able to see and hear you due to the open layout of his place. “Both I guess.” The door pops open and he reaches for a bottle of water.“You thirsty?”

“You have some wine, or some beer?”

Yoongi grunts at that, shaking his head slightly, “Sorry, I don’t drink anymore but I’ve got water and juice.”

You’re sitting up straighter now, voicing out that the water was fine. “Where I’m from is classified information, you’ll have to level up on our friendship for me to tell you that.” You accept the water he hands you, smiling at him as he sits back on the couch. He was fine with your secrecy, taking whatever you feel comfortable telling him. “But I was in Madrid before I came here.”

“Oh? Did you leave where you’re from to go live there?”

Your fingers capture Yuri’s paw, squishing her toe beans as she gently swats at your hair. “No, I was in Amsterdam before that, and Berlin before that as well to name a few. I’ve been bouncing around since I was 20, so about 6 years now.”

He has a look of interest on his face as he sips the water, leaning onto the couch sideways to face you. “Do you ever want to go back to those places?”

“Like visiting the place more than once?”

He nods, his eyes focusing on Yuri’s fluffy body, seeing her sitting back up to hop onto the ledge of the couch, rubbing her body against the back of your head before settling on the backrest of it and getting comfy.

“Hm, not sure. I can’t see myself wanting to flip back the pages of my life to reread a story I already know the outcome to.” With a sigh you shrug at him, your fingers now tracing the material of the couch. “Maybe in the future, years from now, I’ll crave a specific memory and want to go back, but it hasn’t happened yet.”

The amount of new cities and countries you’ve been lucky enough to call home for any amount of time held a special place inside of you, the memories and stories you had because of those experiences helped shape you into the person you are. Sure not all of them were movie-like experiences, some close calls happening at a few places that made you question whether you made the right choice living your life the way you did. But then you’d have moments that just felt right, and right now, sitting on this couch with Yoongi, this was one of those moments.

“So you don’t plan on staying here forever?”

“Well what do you mean by forever?”

He smiles, not thinking he would have to explain what forever meant to him. “For the rest of your life. Is there another version of forever Y/N?”

“Shut up,” you laugh. “It’s not likely, but who's to say. I never move somewhere with a time frame of how long I plan on staying.”

“How do you decide? Sorry if I’m prying but I just can’t imagine that moving somewhere new would be easy. Picturing having to leave friends behind would probably wound me.”

That was true, that was definitely the hardest part of doing this— emotionally at least. The people you met and befriended were a factor in deciding how long you’d stay somewhere. After the initial week of exploring a new place, it gets lonely. You’ve been to places where even the roommates you’d stay with weren’t friendly, and you’d have to take it a step further and search for friendships elsewhere. It was the main reason you had learned to not be timid when it came to making the first move.

“It’s kind of a gut feeling. The longest place I’ve lived in was Paris for two years.” A smile spreads across your face as you recall the two years you spent in that city, how you probably would’ve left after a few weeks if you hadn’t ran into that cute boy right before the club you were in shut down for the night. That experience alone was one of the main reasons you made it a conscious decision to not fall in love, not wanting to experience the inevitable heartbreak that came with it.

Paris was the first place you moved to, jumping head first into adventure and taking everything that came with it, including romance. Leaving friends behind had been hard, but leaving Park Jimin behind had been a different version of painful.

“Before this I was in Madrid for a month. I found myself getting comfortable too fast and when I get comfortable I get bored. When it's no longer new and exciting I don’t see the point of staying anymore.”

Yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, the carefree aura radiating off of you, but he weirdly craves it. He craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. His entire life had changed in the last few years and was now built off routine, bullet point to-do lists and deadlines he had to meet. The only adventure he experiences anymore is thanks to his friends, luring him out of his apartment to fulfil any of their spur of the moment ideas, but nothing comes close to this.

He’s not able to understand how you can be suspended in freefall for the majority of your life, and instead of panicking about your lack of parachute, you’re admiring the view.

“Do you plan on staying here forever?”

That question makes him freeze a little, he had been prying into your life no problem but now that a question was directed at him, he felt himself growing uneasy. “I guess I did.”

“Did...why past tense?”

You see the way he hesitates, his mind is already playing through all the scenarios that can come because of this but he decides to just bite the bullet. “Love makes you think of forever. I pictured forever with my fiance.”

At the mention of a fiance your mind thinks of the girl in the photos with Yoongi, the girl with the bright smile and wide eyes.

Was Yoongi a married man?

He can spot the way you process his vague information, knowing he should elaborate before you think anything else, before your eyes move to his ring finger only to find it bare. “When you’re with someone for almost 8 years its normal to think of forever you know.”

The flashes of his relationship play in his mind, meeting his fiance in his last year of high school. How they had pulled each other out of their shells, becoming rather chaotic in their adventures over the years, turning into adults and supporting each other in every aspect of life.

The memory of Yoongi proposing to her still feels fresh in his mind, taking her to Jeju island since it was a place she had always wanted to visit, not being able to due to caring for her family.

“We were actually planning our wedding, having invitations sent out with everything nearly ready but she uh–“ he stops to breathe slightly, his eyes moving to stare at the picture frames, proving your assumption of the girl being his fiance right. “She got into an accident.”

He hadn’t specified if she died or not, but that faraway look in his eyes spelled it out for you. Forever didn’t have any sympathy for his situation, but he just shrugs it off, forcing himself to not speak further on it. There was more that tied in to the tragic passing of his fiance but he felt he had overshared enough already, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by unloading this information on you. The last thing he needed was to turn this nice day into a pity party with him being the center of attention.

He’s just waiting for the routine apologetic words that would fall from your mouth—maybe you’d reach over and rub his arm like some people did, tell him how sad it was as if he didn’t already know. Some half assed attempt to make him feel better even though you were clearly blind sided by the topic.

Yoongi didn’t want that, always hating the way people would stare at him like he was some charity case. This was why he rarely chose to stray from his circle of comfort, from the people that knew the baggage that came with him and accepted him, keeping his group as tight knit as possible in order to not pick at scabbed over wounds.

When you sigh, he braces for it, mentally accepting that this might be what ends your new formed friendship before you could really creep through the cracks in the wall he built. But instead you reach forward and grasp Yuri once more, scooping her up and bringing her to your chest like a baby. “So Yuri wasn’t the only queen of the house, is that it?”

Yuri purrs in confirmation and Yoongi turns to stare at you again, blinking the wetness away from his eyes before he could even call them tears. You had a smile on your face as you stared at him, not that typical sympathetic smile people always sent his way, it was a genuine one, letting him know he was free to talk more on the subject if he needed to.

And for the first time Yoongi acknowledges that maybe he did need to. He was so used to bottling his emotions in, shutting himself off after her passing, pushing all of his friends and family away and locking himself at home as he mourned, submerging himself in his work to numb himself from feeling anything. Even now, his friends never pried, let him handle his feelings any way he wanted to. But Yoongi can’t act like his chest aches from keeping it all in, the pressure slowly releasing even with the minimal information he had given you.

“Yeah,” he sighs out in relief, reaching out to pet Yuri. “Hani was the queen before Yuri got promoted.”

As you coo at his cat he feels himself sagging back onto the couch. The small dam of emotions he had inside finally released, and before you know it he’s spilling everything out, telling you tidbit stories of him and Hani, and somehow easing you into sharing similar stories of you and Jimin.

The sun fully sets through the windows, neither of you noticing as you talk well into the night, and Yoongi found himself laughing and smiling at the mention of Hani for the first time in two years. You urge him on, watching on with interest while he talks about the day they had picked up Yuri from the shelter.

His eyes are crinkled up in that endearing way you had seen more of today than in the past weeks of knowing him, and it fills you with warmth to know he’s allowing you to know about this part of his life. It felt like sacred information, uncharted territory from the way he had hesitated in the beginning, almost like he wasn’t sure if he could trust you with the precious memories he held tightly. All he needed was a gentle nudge and a genuine smile to slowly let you flip the pages of his brain, knowing you wouldn’t judge the bleeding ink and scratched out words that came with each story.

As he stares at the way you smile at him, he comes to the realization that your sneaky ass must have already managed to slip past the cracks of the walls he built, infiltrating the tight knit circle he had for himself. He has to hold in a laugh when he recalls the way Taehyung had seriously suggested that you might be a spy sent here from another country. Maybe he was onto something, because he was refusing to accept that his willingness to overshare and stray from his norm was due to anything but your highly trained interrogation skills.

You clearly had his cat fooled as well. When Yuri leans up and nuzzles her face against yours he sighs, knowing she had claimed you as her favorite solely based on the attention you gave her. You were good. Yoongi guesses he would have to keep you around now, just for the sake of his cat, nothing more.

#yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #min yoongi #bts fluff #bts fics #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #heartsforbts #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #new #eleven months

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Second And Third Chance- Tony Stark x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: favorite dilf- i’m sorry lmao

Movie/Show: after endgame. but no one is dead because i’m still in denial.

Summary: (Backstory included) Being the fiancee of Tony Stark was all you could dream of, but not everyone is perfect and Tony is certainly no saint. Even with Thanos being gone, Tony is still obsessing on how to keep you safe from other worldly beings, but due to his own ignorance ends up losing you all by himself.

Possible Triggers / Warnings: angst with fluff ending, cursing, Tony being Tony, F.R.I.D.A.Y and Wanda being your besties lmao,

☼-☪-☼

you wondered how you were ever came across such a man. Narcissistic, arrogant, just completely full of himself in every way possible. You had met the infamous Tony Stark at a shield ball/party so long ago. He was charming, you’ll admit, but you were fully aware of his playboy status.

you wore a long black off the shoulder dress that started skin tight at the top and flowy at the bottom, also sporting a slit down the side of the dress. Some said hi and gave you compliments on your outfit. You wanted to find Fury so you could talk to him as he was the only person you really knew.

walking along the floor a woman holding a platter of drinks offered you one and you gladly accepted it. You spotted Fury a few tables away, talking amongst Natasha Romanoff and Steve Rogers. Once you made it over, you slipped yourself into a empty seat.

Fury noticed you first and patted your shoulder “Didn’t think these parties were your scene Agent L/n” he spoke with his usual formality. You hummed into the glass of wine as you took a sip “They are not, but i needed a reason to drink” you admitted, earning a chuckle from Natasha.

you then took the time to look at both of them and smile “Natasha Steve. Still doing the whole saving the world thing?” you say. Steve cracks a smile and nods once “The world can’t seem to give us a break” he says. A chuckle bubbled in your throat “Not that you would take it though, right cap?”

you four spent a good thirty minutes talking about the usual, until Maria Hill showed up then you got to talking about new missions that he Fury only trusted you all with. You were like Fury third in command. Someone Maria had recommended if something would have ever happened to her.

not to long Natasha and Steve had left the party earlier then expected, but they were always in the rush. You, Fury, and Maria were now standing next to the table. Maria’s phone rang and she slipped it from her bag and pressed the green button “Yes?...Give me ten minutes”

she hung it up and put it back in her bag. Fury looked at her with a questioning stare “I’m going to assume Romanoff or Rogers were on the end of that line. Would the rest of us be needed?” he asked. Maria shook her head “No. Just a minor problem. I’ll call if it escalates”

Fury nods once and gestures with his head to the exit, dismissing her. They were so loyal to each other. Maria then sends you a polite smile before exiting the ballroom. You placed your cup on the table were you all resided minutes ago “Should we be concerned?” you ask.

he shakes his head “They’ll be fine. I like to come in at the end anyway, makes me alluring” he says, making you stifle a bit of laughter. “Right” you agreed not really wanting to dwell in that subject. Only seconds later is when an unfamiliar voice spoke “Nick”

both you and Fury turn around and see the nice tailored suit belonging to the less nice man of Tony Stark. Fury cracks a small grin and holds his hand out “Stark, fashionably late” he points out. Tony grabs his hand and shakes it “Well if i wasn’t i’d be stuck looking like you losers.”

did this grown man just call you both losers? Okay then. You folded your arms over your chest, not really paying much attention to there very testosterone filled conversation. Tony eyes removed themselves from Fury and looked at you “and who is this?” he asked.

you removed your eyes from the people walking past you and looked towards the billionaire “ This is Agent L/n. works alongside Agent Hill and myself” Fury explains. You give Tony a polite nod “It’s Y/n L/n” you say. Tony grins and went to say something more when Fury coughed.

“I’m going to use the bathroom. Tony don’t be weird” he spoke before leaving you both by your lonesome. Great. “May i offer you another drink?” he asked and you shook your head “I already had one and i have to be alert at all times. It’s in the job description. Very fine print”

“Sounds like you need a vacation or a xanax” he makes a face, earning a small smile from you “Maybe, but i like my job too much” you reply. Tony steps to the side and gestures with his hand for you to walk. You didn’t see much wrong with that, just a friendly stroll. Why not.

you step in forward and Tony lifts his arm up a bit for you to link yours. ‘What a charmer’ you thought before slipping your arm through his. YOu both began to walk slowly through the ballroom “So what does your significant other think about how much you work?” he asked.

‘very slick’ “I don't have a boyfriend or girlfriend at the moment. Tried dating on the job, but no one really understands how much working here changes you in a way” you explained, Tony nodding along with your answer. Being an Agent had its perks and downfalls.

“Why did you get into this line of work, if you don’t mind me asking?” Tony questions. It was strange seeing him be so genuine with his wording, the complete opposite of what Fury, Steve, Natasha, or Maria had to say about him. It was pleasant.

you gulp, a few choice memories deciding to flood your mind “I worked CIA with my sister for awhile. Our whole family was worked in some form of Government job. Then the 2012 attack happened and we were told to stand down. Me and my sister were stubborn so we didn’t”

you inhale deeply and managed to keep your formal smile upon your face despite the urge to down another glass of wine and call it a night “No one knew about aliens back then, but we wanted to help people in any way we could. In hindsight it was very stupid of us”

your mind began to wander to something else, the smile fading from your face and be replaced with a blank stare. For an expression so neutral it would be hard to tell that you were reliving a terrible memory. Crashing, a blood curdling scream, your pleas, and a then silence.

Tony looked at you once you had stopped talking abruptly and used his free hand to pat your shoulder. You broke out of whatever horrific trance you were in “Sorry, zoned out- anyway my sister ended up passing, i was charged with treason funny enough, but Fury convinced them to drop the charges”

Tony chose to ignore the brief daze you were in for your own sake and you two continued your stroll. The night ended with more talking and much needed laughter. He also offered you a ride home and you gladly took him up on that. It was really nice.

when you got to your house he asked you on a date to a very nice restaurant near your place. You accepted even though your brain was telling you not to. On the day of the date you ended up being called in and canceled. He said he understood and that you could reschedule anytime.

you never did go on that date

☼-☪-☼

just like most things it only happened once and you figured that was that. Spending a couple magical hours talking to Tony Stark would be any girls dream and just like dreams you awoke to reality. You had a job and had many other important things to do beside fantasize about a billionaire.

that was until Hydra took over Shield in 2014, you and Fury faked your deaths. Tony actually went to your funeral, wearing sunglasses and standing away from everybody. It was pretty sad, but you had a job to do. fury actually came back, but you stayed in hiding.

then in 2015 when Ultron was a the main problem and you were itchy to bash some robots skulls in- wait they don’t have skulls. Whatever, Fury wouldn’t get involved. Then Sokovia became a giant plane and Fury caved. After a year of doing grunt work you could finally fight.

all the staff, including you loaded up a helicarrier. You made your way to the command center where Fury and Maria resided “Ah Agent Y/n. Glad that you could join us. Already suited up i see?” Fury points to your all black outfit and mask.

shrugging, you walked towards the front “I’ve been ‘dead’ for a year, cut me some slack for being excited” you say. Fury nods, agreeing with your statement before facing forward. “Set a course to Sokovia and making it fast” Maria announced.

and with that, you were off

☼-☪-☼

Maria hacked into the Avengers coms and connected Fury’s, your’s, and her own. “Where else am i gonna get a view like this?” a woman said through your earpiece. You instantly recognize it as Nat. You missed her so much, god you couldn’t wait to talk to her again.

“Glad you like the view Romanoff. It’s about to get better” Fury spoke, folding his arms behind his back, interlocking his hands. The helicarrier started to raise above Sokovia. Holy shit this is high. As you ascended you were able to see Nat and Steve standing together. Nat cut her hair, it looks pretty.

rest of the staff began to enter the command room and set up “Nice right? Pulled her out of mothballs with a couple old friends. She’s dusty, but she’ll do” he spoke. “Fury you son of a bitch” Steve said right back. Did he just curse? That had to be Ultron.

“Woah, you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Fury said with a fake surprised tone. His comment made you chuckle a bit since he had a foul mouth. Hypocrisy am i right? “Altitude is 18,000 and climbing” Maria spoke, typing away on her keyboard like desk.

another guy spoke up from behind you “Lifeboats secure to deploy, disengage in three...two...take them out ” he clicked one final button and sat back. You felt the helicarrier rumble beneath you, which meant the lifeboats were being sent to the ground.

oh shit. You were supposed to be on one of those. “Shit!” you yell before running out the command room. You raced down the stairs and made your way to the deck. You watched as a lifeboat flew right below. This is such a bad idea. Your doing it anyway.

taking a couple steps back, you mentally prepare yourself before running as fast as you could. As you touch the edge you jump and launch yourself off the helicarrier. The lifeboat came closer to you until your shoulder collided with it. You hissed and slowly pushed yourself up “Damn- that’s gonna sting”

“Did you just jump off the helicarrier?” Fury says through the coms

“Who did?” Steve spoke

“Oh you know, backup-” Fury replies before Maria cut in “Sir we have multiple bogeys on our starboard flank” she spoke and indeed when you looked up you saw a bunch of Iron man suits flying above. Oh shit. “Show them what he got” he replied back.

you reach down and pull both guns out the holsters that were on both of your thighs “It feels good to be back” you said to yourself. You heard something fly above you that wasn’t a Bogey and saw War Machine- Rhodey blasting through a bunch of them. He’s pretty cool.

just as you were about to bask in the moment a Bogey landed on the lifeboat and came charging at you. It swung and you ducked just in time, lifting your foot to kick it in the chest. As it stumbled back you raised your gun and shot it straight in the head.

the literal lights behind its glass ‘eyes’ flickered until it shut off and it fell to the ground. “It better not be that easy to kill the actual Iron Man” you spoke. “And your not gonna find out” a voice spoke. You turn around and see Tony in his suit, with his arm raised, ready to attack you.

you raise your hands “Woah- What the hell Stark!” you shout. Oh shit- you had a mask. “I’m on your side” you add. Tony tilts his head “Really, prove it” he says. You slowly move your hand. as to not startle him and slowly pull the mas down from your face “Hey Tony”

he visibly tensed up. His mask retracting back into his face. Still has handsome as ever. He reaches up with both arms and takes off his helmet, dropping it to the side. “So is faking your death a Shield initiation thing or you just really didn’t want to go out with me?” he asked.

you cracked a smile and dropped your arms to your sides “I told you work gets in the way” you said. He went to say something when four Bogeys landed on the lifeboat. Damn you couldn’t let any on until you landed. Tony groaned dramatically and shot one in the chest, causing it to fall off the ship.

“No. See regular work doesn’t involve faking your death. I went to your funeral you know?” he says. You drop off and push off the seat and onto the Bogey, wrapping your thighs around its head. You push the barrel of the gun against the top of its head and shot “I know. I was there!” you shout.

“Oh that’s just great. You saw me all vulnerable and teary” he says with a scoff. what was happening right now. You drop to the ground and the Bogey grabs your leg, pulling you back. You shot it in the arm and it lets go “I actually didn’t know you cried. That’s kind of cute though”

you shoot the Bogey in the head and stand up on your feet. Just as you are about to take a step, a metal arm wraps around your neck, pulling you back. Oh yeah there was four. You went to reach behind as Tony shot through it’s head. The grip around your neck was released and you pushed it’s corpse off.

“Your welcome” Tony spoke, he still sounded snappy. “Your such a baby Tony. What can i do to make you stop moping?” you ask, putting one of your guns into the holster. You look behind you as the lifeboats pull up next to Sokovia “One date after all this. So i can show you what you missed of course”

you crack a smile, pulling your hood off your head. You raise your hand and hold up one finger “One date. That’s it” you say and he nods along “That works for me” he replies before picking up his helmet. He puts it on his head “But you’ll come back for more” he says as his face is covered by metal once more.

☼-☪-☼

present

you ended up did going on that date with Tony and he was right, there would be multiple date and girts until he finally asked you to be in a relationship. It was any big grand gesture that you expected from him, it was simple and sweet. It took him three years for him to propose in 2018.

but he was always one to wait.

the second battle with Thanos, but everyone seemed to be somewhat recovering, but Tony wasn’t himself anymore. You already knew he was a workaholic, but it had never been this bad. He’d stay up all night working on new tech. Security, suit adjustments, anything.

when it first started happening you chalked it up to his response to trauma. One night you suggested he’d go to therapist. Just one session and if he thought it would work then he could continue and vise versa. Tony ended up shooting down the idea with a couple harsh words.

it was strange to see him yell at you because he had never done before. It was like you were talking to an entirely different person. It scared you to be honest, but you loved him. A whole year after Thanos had gone by and he was just falling deeper and deeper into his work and less into you.

“Friday, is Tony awake?” you spoke, pouring coffee into a black mug. You place it on the silver tray and grab the light beige cardigan off the counter, slipping it over your white sports bra. “Yes Miss. Would you like me to inform him your coming down to the lab?” Friday asked.

“No that’s alright. I’d rather surprise him. Thank you Friday” you say and grab the tray off the counter, it had a mug of coffee and a plate of pancakes. You knew he wouldn’t have eaten already “Just doing my job Miss” she replies. You smile to yourself. You liked listening to her accent.

☼-☪-☼

you push open the door with the side of your hip since your hands were full “Tony!” you call out, looking around the lab one time. You stop as you see your lovers head pop up behind a machine you were unfamiliar of “Y/n? What’re you doing up? It’s late” he said, putting down a tablet.

you roll your eyes and walk over to the big table in the middle, placing the tray down “It’s nine in the morning, love” you reply. Was he starting to lose track of time now? This place needed more windows clearly. Tony put on a confused face as he scratched the back of his neck “Really?”

nodding, you lift up the mug of coffee from the tray and make your way over to Tony. You dodge a few tools laying on the ground and hand him the cup “Drink” you say. He takes it from you and brings it to his lips “Thanks” he says. While he drank you studied his face. He looked so exhausted.

it broke your heart

“You look terrible by the way” you comment, causing him to crack a small smile. “You said yes to this face, remember that” he retorts. Well he wasn’t wrong about that one. “That is true, seriously i want you out the lab today and into bed. Tomorrow is an important day”

Tony goes silent for a moment and you can tell he was trying really hard to think “Tony” you said, your voice sounding like a mom who was getting ready to lecture there child for forgetting to do homework. “I know i know- important day. Can’t wait for that...day”

you narrowed your eyes “Friday” you called out. “Yes Miss” she replies instantly. “Read me Tony’s schedule that he set for himself for the week” you ask. Tony steps forward, but you take a step back, moving away from him. “There is nothing on Mr. Stark’s schedule this week Miss”

wow

moving away from Tony, you walk over to the table “It’s our anniversary tomorrow you ass” you snap at him. Tony sighs and runs his hand over his face “I’ve been busy-” “You’ve never forgot it before” your tone was unusually calm, which through Tony off.

“Thanos is dead Tony”

“I know-”

“Then what are you doing?!” you shout, shocking yourself at the loudness of your own voice. “I’m trying to keep you safe!” he exclaims. Your fist clench. God you loved this man, but you wanted to punch him in the nose “You know i thought that you would get over this, but i can’t take much more”

your words seem to scare Tony a bit, but you continued to speak “It’s been a year Tony. You don’t sleep next to me, we barely talk unless it’s me making sure you don’t fucking starve to death, we haven’t been intimate in god knows how long. I’m tired of being neglected”

crying for a man was so pathetic, so you reached up and wiped any forming tears away with your thumb. Tony reached his arms out and wrapped them around you. You wanted to push him away, but he hasn't hugged you in so long, so you gave in.

he rubbed the back of your head as you let a few tears fall onto his shirt “I’ll stop okay- look i promise i’ll get some sleep and will have a whole day together okay?” he says. You were mad and you wanted to scream at him, but you also loved him and wanted to give him a second chance.

“Okay, but i swear Tony. You screw this up and-” you were cut off by him placing his lips on yours. Damn Stark. You smiled lightly into the kiss and pull away a couple seconds later “and you’ll throw me out on my ass i know.” he says.

you ended up making Tony go to sleep in your shared room while you cleaned up his lab and such.

☼-☪-☼

the anniversary, night

you were waiting outside a restaurant since Tony wanted to show up in his car to ‘swoon’ you wearing a black jumpsuit, it was his favorite color on you You looked at your phone and noticed he was about ten minutes late, but that didn’t worry you much since he liked to be fashionably late.

he’d come. He wouldn’t risk his last chance.

would he?

☼-☪-☼

after two hours Happy ended up picking you up and taking you back to your home. He apologized for Tony a couple times, but you said it was fine. Once you got home you kicked off your heels at the door. You were kind of running on autopilot just in shock and realization at the same time.

you knew what you had to do, but at the same time you didn’t want to, but it was over. You gave Tony a chance and he blew it. Nine years down the drain in a flash. You just couldn’t believe it. Walking down the hall, you wipe your face from the warm tears.

shutting the door to your shared bedroom, you go over to the closet “Miss you seem to be in distress is there anyway i can help?” Friday spoke. For an AI she was very self aware on feelings. “Is Tony awake Friday?” you ask, going over to your closet. “No Miss, he is asleep in the lab. May i call someone for you?”

you open the closet and pull out a suitcase you had in there and bring it over to the bed “Call Wanda” you say as you unzip the suitcase, opening it up and throw it on the bed. “Of course Miss, contacting Wanda Maximoff” she replies. After a couple seconds you hear her voice.

“Y/n? It’s late, are you alright?” she asked. You had confided in Wanda about your relationship problems with Tony since you were both in a long term relationship. You had also told her about the anniversary thing and Tony’s last chance. she said if it didn’t work out yo could stay at her place.

“Hey Wanda- uh. Yeah i know it’s late but-” you didn’t get to finish speaking when Wanda cut you off “Are you crying? Tony didn’t come did he? Know what? i’m on way. He better like a car through his window” she threatens, you could hear her moving around and the sound of keys. Well damn-

you began to grab your clothes from your dresser and stuff them in your suitcase “He’s sleeping, just pull in the front. I’ll send you the gate code okay?” you say, beginning to take off the jumpsuit you were wearing. “Fine, but no promises if i see him in the street. I’ll see you soon Y/n, goodbye”

Wanda hung up the phone “Friday-” “I sent Wanda the gate code. Before you leave would you like to leave a message for Mr. Stark?” Friday asked. You grab a dark green sweater and jeans from your dresser and throw them on quickly. You didn’t bother to pack the jumpsuit.

you wanted Tony to know why you had left so he could see the consequences of his actions and so that he wouldn’t tear the city apart thinking you were kidnapped. “I will, can you record a holographic message?” you ask. “Yes Miss, also Wanda will be arriving in 15 minutes”

“Okay”

☼-☪-☼

Tony awoke to the sound of his alarm blaring off into his ear “Shit. Friday shut that off!” he groans, lifting his head from the table “Yes Boss” she replies and the alarm shuts off. “Y/n has left a message for you to listen too. It is very important” she adds.

“Play it” he says going to lay his head back down on the table “It is a holographic message, Boss” Friday says. Tony begrudgingly lifts his head and leans it on his arm “Play it” he repeats. A second later you appeared sitting on the chair at the table with a blue hue around you.

“Hey Tony” you spoke a half smile on your face. tony would have found comfort in it if he doesn’t your puffy eyes and saddened expression. His head lifted on his arm “Remember our anniversary, you know your last chance and all that? Yeah.” you began. Tony sighed mumbling curses under his breath.

“I care about you, i have since you talked to me at the Shield dance, but i haven’t been your first priority in a while and i get it, but you promised when i left Shield that you would always make time for me. I know that Thanos shook you and you won’t admit it, but you need realize that something bad isn’t lurking around every corner”

Tony watched as you reached up and rubbed your eyes, the scene tugging on his heartstrings “We need a break from each other Tony, just for a little while. I’m going to stay with some friends. Please try to help yourself, get out the lab, clean yourself up, all of that.”

you pulled something off your ring finger and placed it on the table. Tony looked down and saw the silver ring with three aquamarine stones. He remembered proposing to you with it. You said the color reminded you of his reactor. Weirdly enough your hologram looked up at him and smiled.

“I’ll be waiting” you said and then flickered away “That’s the end of the message, Boss” Friday says. Tony slowly picked up the ring off the table. You had recorded the message in hear, talking to his sleeping body. He wished he had woken up.

☼-☪-☼

three months later

staying with Wanda was fun, but after a month or so you decided to get your own place. As much as you loved your big house you shared with Tony you bought small cabin well away from the city. It was quiet, it was outdoors and you loved it.

when you and Tony got engaged you ended up retiring from Shield so you could be more at home and help Tony with his work, but now even though you didn’t need a job you also didn’t like the idea of sitting on your ass. In that night of packing you put your old suit in there while on autopilot.

It took awhile, but you called up Fury and he was more than happy to let you back in “What does Stark have to say about all this?” he asked and you just sighed quietly “What Tony doesn’t know won’t hurt him” you replied and he didn’t ask any more questions after that.

getting back into your old life was pretty easy. All you needed was to get back into your regular exercise regiment that you had been lacking on and you felt more confident than ever. You didn’t feel neglected or forgotten, the complete opposite, you felt badass.

one day when you were walking out the store after picking up some groceries you felt eyes on you as you walked along the sidewalk. After years of being an Agent you knew when you were being followed. What was strange was that it felt like someone was watching you from above.

having a hunch at who it might be you quickly looked up and see a quick blur of red and blue swing away from your vision. Was this kid following you? but why? You duck into an alley way and walk slowly. You hear him drop behind you and follow your steps.

“Peter”

“Hi” he replies in nervous tone. You turn around, placing your free hand on your hip “Why have you been following me all week Peter?” yopu ask. You haven’t talked to Peter in months. Did he need something? Peter lifts his arm and grabs the top of his mask, pulling it off of his head.

he was lucky you were in a remote part of the city “Mr. Stark told me you weren’t together at the moment” he starts, looking at his feet. “I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright” he says and flashes a toothy grin. Aw- wait. “Did Tony ask you to check on me?”

Peter shook his head “No. He’s been busy with setting up the new senteries and therapy- i mean i don’t know. I just missed you and i can tell Mr. Stark is trying to change, but i hate to see you both so sad. I couldn’t imagine not being with Mj” he says. This kid was too adorable.

not only that he went out of his way to see how you were doing. Wait- what did he say about Tony “What senteries?” you asked, stepping closer to him. Peter started to fidget a bit “Uh- i really have to get going-” “Peter” you said in a demanding tone.

he exhaled deeply, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this “Mr. Stark has a whole line of senteries to sell to the senator so he can finally retire from being Iron Man. Not fully retire just on a long term vacation- that’s what he called it.” he spoke. Holy shit- you hoped he had done this for himself

and you as well- but mostly himself

a smile creeped onto your face. The most stubborn man you had ever met changed. “When does he plan on doing this?” you say to Peter “A dinner party this weekend. I wasn’t supposed to say anything until it was done. He was going to do some grand gesture to show you he’s changed”

you shook your head and placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder “Don’t be. For once i’m doing the grand gesture”

☼-☪-☼

saturday

after figuring out and planning on when and where you were going to show up you decided to tap into Friday’s systems and watch most of his speech then find Tony when the time was right, preferably when he was alone. Being with Tony for so long you figured out a way to enter your shared home, undetected.

once you were in the building you hid away in a spare room that was never used “Friday show me the room Tony’s in” you spoke, pulling out your phone “Yes Miss” she spoke and on your screen you saw Tony in the dining room. You lift your phone and flick it so its projected off the screen.

your eyes latched to Tony as soon as it turned on. He looked so different and healthy. It was pleasing to see that he was doing much better. You were also glad he took your advice. A warmth invaded your chest, it’s like you fell in love with him all over again.

gosh how you wanted to run into his arms that very moment.

“So Stark, why retire now?” the senator asked, taking a sip of wine from the glass he held. Tony seemed to tense up the question, but no one noticed other then you and Tony himself “If you asked me three months ago i would have told you to go to hell and that i don’t need to retire”

“and now?”

“Well back then i had my fiancee and thought i was the king of the world. Then i lost her because of my workaholic nature- also i’m not retiring Iron, Man will still be here for whoever needs him, but i think it’s time i put my future wife first if i want to keep her” he shrugs his shoulders casually.

most at the table were stunned into silence before the senator lifted his hand for tony to shake “I guess Tony Stark does have a heart” he spoke and Tony shook his hand. You felt something warm come down your face and reached to wipe the tears away.

god- what a charmer. Always knew just what to say.

“Well this was fun, but my finacee i’ve been talking about is actually here on the moment” he said. Wait what? You looked at the screen as Tony’s head turned towards the camera, sending you a wink. How the hell did he find out?! Tony grabbed a pen from his pocket and signed the paper.

“Happy will show you all out” Tony waved them off before walking out the room “If you step out the room you’ll be able to meet Mr. Stark in the hallway” Friday spoke. Oh so she snitched. Betrayal at it’s finest “Thanks Friday” you spoke before stepping out the room.

as you turned your head you come face to face with your husband to be, except he seemed nervous? “You look great- well you always look great” Tony says, making you form a smile “I’m proud of you” you say back. Tony reaches up, using this thumb to wipe away a stray tear.

“That means a lot coming from you. I can’t believe i let you slip away” his voice got darker, a frown forming. “I’m right here” you open your arms out. tony takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “But seriously Tony i will really leave you next time”

he nods “I know i know. You can have the whole house if i do” he says, making you chuckle. After a moment of staring into each other's eyes, silently making up for lost time. “Oh my god Tony Stark if you don’t kiss me right now-” you didn’t even need to finish before his lips were on yours.

the kiss was desperate and starved for a deeper feeling. Who knew one person could miss another so much? After this, you speculated you’d be stuck to his side like glue for a couple weeks before he say something stupid to piss you off.

Tony’s hands traveled lower and lower until they gripped the back of your thighs, causing a familiar feeling to bloom within you. He pulls away from your mouth and his lips attach to your neck, leaving hot open mouthed kisses. Zero to one hundred real quick.

“Tony” you breathed out. You could feel the smirk against the skin of your neck. Horny bastard “Tony seriously” you say, a laugh bubbling in your throat. He pulls away and looks at you ‘I’m trying to seduce you. Why are you interrupting?”

you shake your head and hook your arms around his neck “I love you, you idiot” you say, trying to catch your breath. A ego filling grin decorated his face as he pecked your lips “I love you too. Now let me get back to work” he says and goes back to kissing your neck and his hands worked off your belt.

yeah- you were in love

☼-☪-☼

Click here to join my Taglist! @sonbelleame @hel-viti @loudbluepancake @vmame

☼-☪-☼

Kody: Eh this kinda sucks. requests are open and my taglist. Anyways, peace

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dashielldeveron · 4 years

Text

Viper VIII: Inter Vivos

*author slaps bumper sticker across ass that reads I BREAK FOR QUARANTINE*

Summary: You have a thought that only Steve Urkel and black-out drunks can have: did I do that?

Warnings: swears, the law. Murder/death. Stupid internet comments.

Show (3719) Comments on “There is Nothing New Under the Sun, But You Are New in Your Conglomeration.”

skellingtonbabey: thanks for putting all of the *gestures vaguely* into historical context. no one’s ever bothered to explain this shit to me, especially in such simple and thorough language. it’s like every other resource i try to learn from is stylistically designed to make me more confused.

readyplayer69: Just because it’s from the 60s and is racist doesn’t mean that it doesn’t have intrinsic value based on the goal towards which it was working. You’re a fucking lunatic. I have a degree in political science, so I know what the fuck I’m about. Though some of the protests may have excluded the minorities you’re talking about, it doesn’t mean that they weren’t ultimately working towards good fucking policies for everyone involved. It’s not like they were doing anything important then anyway; white people had to be the mouthpiece for…Read More

volcanolesbian: bro have u seen the incels freaking out over this???? it got linked in their cursed forum and they SO BADLY wanted u 2 hate women now. like you can regress from being a feminist once you’ve woken up. they’re giving u shit bc you called out the racist terrorists who were active in their community lmao. i can post screenshots if u want. But bruv it’s like they haven’t read anything you’ve written before lol

mozARTsexandviolins: I get when you say that ingenuity spawns ideals for the greater good, but don’t you think tradition has its place? How do we know if the new can spawn the greater good? How do we judge ourselves? Who watches the watchers?

simpleplan2eatthedirt: cool cool nice nice. protesting is awesome, but be sure to get out there to fucking VOTE, people!!! Here’s a link to register to vote.

EaterJohn: Hello. It is nice to hear from you again, Epiales. Always a treat. Very insightful commentary on modern and past protests. I didn’t know about all of the revolutions in Europe 1848. I’ve send this to my co, and it’s already sparked a good conversation about who we are as a protesting people as we stand in history. Again, sorry to bother you, but I was wondering when the next article in your “Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times” series was going to be released? It’s my…Read More

horneyvulcanbasterd: @mozARTsexandviolins Is that a Star Trek reference? Bc if so the answer’s Starfleet Command lol

MrsKatsukiBakagou: epiales. you have watered my crops and harvested my fields. thank you for the food.

mightiestavengereatmyass: eat shit and die, commie scum. your just a hired propagandaist for the fucking alt-left, aren’t you? You have no right to be running your collum in a real newspaper or on this fucking website. sending u anthrax in the mail would be too cool a death for you. I hope your so-called terrorist groupsfind out where you live and fucking murder you in the middle of the night. fukcs like you are the reason the country is going to shit the police have a total constitutional right int aht jurisdiction to enter. They had a no knock…Read More

fuckyouit’sjanuary: @readyplayer69 [image attached] [image description: blonde woman with caption reading, “I can tolerate racism, but I draw the line at looting the local target]

saltnpepa!!diner707: Hi. I’m trying to cite this piece in an essay, but your publisher isn’t listed on your website. Would you suggest using the NYT as the source in my bib? If it helps, this is due new week; idk if this will run in the NYT by then. Thanks

“I’m sending someone on a grocery run this morning,” said Tom, thumbs tapping away on his phone, “Do you need anything? Want anything?”

You glanced up from your laptop, closing it as much as you could without the light dimming. “I think I’m good, unless you used the last of the shredded cheese at some point.”

“Shredded…cheese,” he said under his breath, typing, “You mentioned capri-suns the other day.”

“Yeah, but I can tolerate the nasty, new flavour. No rush. Here’s a wild idea,” you said, and you waited until he looked up from his phone, a couple of ungelled curls falling over his forehead. “What if—now, don’t dismiss me as crazy; hear me out—what if we went to the store ourselves?”

“Again, no.” Tom grasping his coffee by the round of the mug, despite there being a perfectly functional handle. “Stop pressing me for it.”

“I’m not asking to go to a damn Broadway play. I’m asking to go to the closest 7-11,” you said, jiggling your leg and then making a conscious decision to stop fidgeting, instead scooting your chair closer under the table so that the arms slid underneath.

Tom hummed, his eyes not leaving his phone screen, but when you didn’t continue, he raised an eyebrow as he scowled at you. “Broadway is shut down because of the bomb threat.”

“Fuck off; you know what I meant.”

“Viper,” said Tom, and he locked his phone to set it on his napkin. “Do you want to get assassinated?”

“The term assassination implies I’m getting murdered for political reasons instead of the copious other crimes you’ve had me commit. So, I invite it.” Put your hands on the table where he can see them; it makes you seem more trustworthy. “Does 7-11 have an open carry policy?”

“If it’s any consolation, the renovated office should be waiting for you when you return.”

“It’s not.” You lifted your mug to your lips. “Working from here only makes me feel like a damn bureaucrat. Like I have no stake in the matter. I don’t want to become detached from everything; I might make a callous decision and send people where they can’t come back.”

“Keep watching yourself. If you stay on guard,” said Tom, running his middle finger around the rim of his mug, “then you won’t stray from me.”

“I’m useless here.”

“Then maybe you should become accustomed to the idea of being useless.”

Swallowing, you stared down into your tea. “There’s only so much I can get done through answering emails. Not to mention I hate answering emails. That’s how you get more emails.”

“Harrison has been telling me that your schematics have been more thorough since you’ve been holed up in here.” Tom tipped his mug all the way back to get the last of his coffee. “You’re still being just as productive, if not more methodical.”

“Did you mean obsessive? I have—I’ve had too much time to think. I’d rather not be alone with my thoughts, if I can help it.”

***

You could only read so much before losing your mind. You could only deal with so many of the same exact problems over and over again for lower level soldiers. You could only chart so many stars. You could only read so much fanfiction (if your identity thief were tracking your phone, he’d probably be baffled as to why you kept reading fic for fandoms you weren’t even a part of due to the desire for new ideas).

You could only give Glory Pham so many excuses as to why you’re not with her in person at the Museum of Natural History.

Sucking in through your teeth, you hovered your fingers above the keyboard.

Dear Ms. Pham,

Glad to hear John Mulaney’s signed on. Next step would be to ensure de Blasio doesn’t directly interact with him, given their history. Perhaps I should proof his set beforehand?

Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that I cannot attend the briefing in person yet again. I am currently indisposed, seeing as I am currently in hiding at my hot boss’s house, due to how dead I might be should I leave it (thus the basis of its appeal). Not to mention that if you criticise my blazer choices again, I shall peel the skin off your perfectly made-up face. Get fucked; getting your eyeliner tattooed on was a hell of a decision.

You shook your head, backspaced the last few lines, and stretched towards the wicker end table to grab your glass of pink lemonade, and you stole a glance at Tom’s work as you did so. A couple of files spread across his white wicker lounger (two blue files [socials of the family], two green [recent bids], a yellow [Manhattan locations], and a brown [requests from politicians, upper East side]). The pink sticky-notes had your and his written exchanges and edits on certain papers, and his laptop was open, the screen dimmed, while he copied something into a notebook with his cell phone held between his shoulder and his ear, just listening to the computerised voice.

He had joined you on the back porch to work remotely, claiming he couldn’t go into the city today due to the absence of news on Zendaya—if any information arose, he’d said he wanted your diagnosis immediately.

You wiped your forehead with your sleeve as a sweat drop slinked behind Tom’s ear. Even Tessa wouldn’t run in the heat; she’d curled up by the porch railing, her tail slapping against her water bowl. In an experiment to see if she wanted to spend some time outside, you’d slid the glass door open for Trout, to which she turned around to retreat to the bedroom.

Not all of the clothes you’d ordered had arrived yet, so you were stuck wearing autumnal clothes with long sleeves. To exacerbate matters, you were constantly moving—jiggling your leg, tapping your fingers—you couldn’t sit still for very long anymore; you had taken to pacing the porch when you couldn’t concentrate on the stars.

(Once, Tom had come out at night to check on you, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and sitting in silence with you. He’d made you go to bed after a while, claiming you’d run yourself into the ground if you kept this restlessness up.)

When your phone beeped, the both of you jolted at the sound. Tom hung up on the robotic voice as you scrambled to your phone, and he bent your way. “Is it Zendaya?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you shook your head. “No. Looks like it’s a jailbreak.”

Tom sighed, his shoulders heaving as he eased back in his seat. “Where from?”

“I don’t even care,” you said, letting your phone fall to your lap. You slumped back in your chair, shielding your eyes from the sun with your arm. But you straightened yourself again and checked. “From Central. They don’t even know who’s all escaped yet.”

“It’d be too much of a gift if New York City would fucking relax for five minutes.”

“It seems like it’s in more uproar than usual lately,” you said, sipping through the reusable straw of your pink lemonade. “Do you suppose it’s our fault?”

Tom took a moment to pluck his damp t-shirt away from his chest. “I don’t think we’re instigating. If anything, we’re simply reacting to chaos.” He stood up and stretched, raising his arms above his head—his biceps strained at the sleeves, and the hem rose above his v-lines. “Unless you’re doing something I don’t know about.”

Ah, casual suspicion. “You’ve caught me,” you said as he approached Tessa and crouched next to her, “I’ve been running a koi smuggling gig on the side.”

“Why koi?” He held out his hand for Tessa to sniff, and she readily accepted his hand for pats. “Are they hard to get?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging, “but I’ve been wondering if they’d be able to survive in your grist mill pond. You look through that water straight to the bottom, nothing living in your way. Just rocks and old equipment.”

Tom sat against the porch railing with a jittery Tessa partially in his lap. “Should we get some?”

“Oh, fuck off, Tom,” you said, grinning, a sweat drop falling onto your mousepad as you shook your head, “You can’t entertain every little pipedream I have.”

“Watch me. What do you want for Christmas?”

You ducked your head, biting your lip. “Promise me something.”

“Provided it’s not my head on a stake, I will,” he said, scratching Tessa behind her ears and cringing a bit when she stretched to lick his face.

“Then we’re going in person to the pre-opening fundraising gala for the Gawain Diamond.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “Viper.”

“Bitch, I got John Mulaney to sign on to do the opening monologue, and he’s probably gonna roast de Blasio again. I’m not missing that.”

Your phone blared an alert again, and both of you held your breath as you unlocked it.

“Got a list of prisoners who escaped. Small group. Delores, Larson, Duncan, Mays, Selvin,” you said, “There’s more, but I don’t know them. Tell us something important, by God. Anyway, we’re going. I didn’t say I was going alone, did I? You’ll be there. I’ll be safe, and you’ll be safe.”

His jaw shifting to the side, Tom stilled his hand on Tessa’s back, and then he lifted it to flick sweat off his neck. “How many of us maximum can you get in?”

“It’s a fundraiser for idiotic rich people; if there are too many people without a name, they’ll be noticed.”

“It can’t be just us.”

“Why? Afraid you can’t protect me on your own?”

“Now, don’t start that.” Tom herded Tessa off his lap and onto her outside bed. “I’m not falling for it.”

“Yes, yes, I’m fully aware you’re capable of ripping me in half,” you said, draining your pink lemonade, the airy suction coming through your straw (almost loud enough that you couldn’t hear Tom’s sputtering over it—almost—and his phone beeping). “Want me to get that?”

“Bring it here,” he said, and you snatched it while he sat on the railing, dangling his legs off the side.

“It’s,” you said, eyebrows shooting to your hairline as you read the little notification, “It’s a tweet from Zendaya.” You tossed it to him to unlock and leant on the railing next to him, arm grazing his thigh with a heightened awareness of how close you were to his sweaty, sweaty abdomen. No! No time to thirst. Friend time.

Tom unlocked his phone and held it at your eye level, turning it horizontally as he pulled up the tweet.

ZENDAYA (@ZendayaMedias): Felt cute. Might delete later.

[video]

Tom pulled up the clip, waiting for it to load. “Why didn’t she post it to instagram, then?”

“The finer details of social media are an enigma. Do I look like I know,” you said, and his thumb hovered over the play button.

He cranked the volume up before pressing play, having to try twice due to how slippery his fingers were. “I wonder if Haz has seen this yet.”

A vertical shot of a murky, grey sky from the bow of a boat and dark ocean as far as the camera can see. It pans across the starboard side, and this boat is the only one in sight.

Only the sound of waves striking the boat.

The camera tilts down. Zendaya’s writhing on the deck, furiously straining against rope bonds that line up the entirety of her arms and up her calves; she’s yelling furiously at the person behind the camera through duct tape.

Scuffed, black boots roll Z to the starboard gunwale. She’s still fighting, still shouting.

The camera trucks to the right; before, the pair of cinderblocks attached to her feet were concealed. It returns to her face. A glove grabs part of her hair to show the weights tied into it. She bucks up to headbutt the camera; he avoids it.

Tom clenched his free hand on his thigh. “We’re running another scan for that black-stubble bell jackass from her instagram; did we have any fucking leads at all? What’s his fucking motivation? So he slept with her, allegedly; did she say no to a second time? Doesn’t fucking merit—”

The boot kicks the cinderblocks off the boat, and the camera tilts down to follow the trail of bubbles.

It’s quiet.

But then the camera pans to portside, where the guy in the picture with Zendaya is similarly tied up, but he’s openly weeping and shaking his head. He’s got something drawn on his forehead in black marker. The cameraman steps closer to focus on it: it’s a circle with an upward curve resting on top of it.

He’s still wearing the bell necklace.

Then the cameraman backs away and raises a gloved hand, in which a gun is aimed at the other’s forehead.

The bullet goes through the circle, and the bell rattles as he’s kicked off. Fewer bubbles.

Then the camera tilts up to show off the boat’s surroundings: a black and barren ocean, as far as the eye can see.

When the video started to loop, Tom switched his screen off, his phone hanging loosely in his grip. You released of his thigh once you noticed you’d grabbed onto him, and the evidence of your touch faded as the fabric relaxed.

His eyes glossed over at the blank screen, and his mouth opened before closing again, running his tongue over his lower lip. Tom brought a fist to his mouth and furrowed his brow, his hand hardly concealing the growing tremble of his jaw.

You took a step away from him, rubbing your arms as you ducked your head. “I’m going back inside,” you said, hoping Trout felt like being clutched to your chest, “I’m cold.”

***

The next morning, your mouth felt heavy and dry. You sneaked out as the sun was rising to go hide in the woods surrounding Tom’s house, but you talked yourself out of it. He would make too much of a fuss if he couldn’t find you—but you could delay the inevitable conversation even further. Both of you had separated and kept to yourselves the rest of the evening. Kept quiet.

So you rounded the outside of the house. You’re not camping out in a fucking copse. When you reached the pond, you scanned it for a dry place to hide, but nothing really held any appeal, save for the rounded platform where the mill wheel used to spin, its spoke notches overflowing with moss. You managed to get to it after scrambling alongside the stones for a few minutes, and though it didn’t look like you could get down the same way, you settled against the wall, scraping some moss out of the notches so that your feet could rest more comfortably in them.

(Dr. Prine called ten minutes after you sent her the email. “Did you send me the correct article?”

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing your face wash onto your cheeks, “Considering it’s the only one I have ready, and I can’t bring myself to write anything. I tried. I just fucking can’t.”

“I don’t think you want this published at this point in your life.”

“I don’t fucking care. Whoever’s using my pen name probably knows who the fuck I am in general. Just publish it.”

“Honey,” said Dr. Prine, her voice softening (and fumbling, like she was holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder), “You should probably rethink this. It’s going to connect Epiales you back to Viper you. Get some sleep; eat breakfast. Call me back then.”

“It’s an appropriate article for the political climate.”

“Not for your personal life.”

“I don’t fucking care,” you said between splashing water on your face, “I don’t. It’s a good fucking article, and hopefully, it can affect people for the upcoming election. Fuck self-preservation. Send it to the Times already.”

“Did I dial the wrong number?”

“Hilarious, Dr. Prine. I know it’s not the smartest thing for me to do, but I can’t—absolutely can’t—write anything. I don’t know for how long, but for now, at least.” You blotted your face dry. “I’ve got to meet standard deadlines if I’m keeping my column. It’s really only dangerous if Tom reads it and makes the connection, and his brain is offline right now.”

And so Aeneid Autopsies: Current Crimes Reflected in Ancient Times, chapter twelve, “The Political Tradition as Mob Rule,” would be published on Saturday. It’s a little too in the know about the mafia, but hey, you had written it on a whim a month ago, and you were known for your extensive research, anyway. It most likely shouldn’t be too different from your other exposés, though they weren’t on topics that were deliberately misleading the public by what information was out there.

The more you thought about it, it was almost like you wanted to reveal yourself, wanted to get stabbed while you were sleeping, because there’s an overwhelming question rolling around in your brain like a mis-weighted shooter marble: is this—)

“It’s not your fault.”

With crossed arms, Tom leant against the stone wall, his leg bent back for his bare foot to rest flat against it. He glanced sideways at you, sitting on your mill wheel perch almost halfway across the pond, but closer to the far side than to him.

He’s got major bedhead, his curls just fucking flopping about out of his part, and even from where you are, his face burned red amidst wet tracks trailing down it. Still, thank God for little mercies—his biceps were fucking straining the sleeves of his white t-shirt, and those idiotic, blessed grey sweatpants were low on his hips.

You lifted your head from your knees but still clutched them to your chest. “You’re not going out, then?”

“Of course not,” Tom said, and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Can’t be crying during a meeting, yeah?”

“Been boxing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?”

“Not really.”

He ran his tongue over his lower lip and sighed, and then he slid his hands into his pockets, his eyes glossing over while he watched the moss you’d picked off float in the pond.

You’re not going to fucking cry. Tom came out here for a reason. He has a purpose. All you have to do is wait.

Eventually, he said, “You’re avoiding what I said.”

You tilted your head.

“Listen, I know you’re beating yourself up about it. It’s not your fault this happened. None of this is your fault. Hey.” Tom tapped the wall, the travelling reverberations making you look up at him. “Whoever’s doing this is doing it of their own volition and not because of you. You hold no culpability for this.”

“Bruh,” you said, “One of your best friends is dead, and you’re comforting me? I thought I was the masochist.”

Tom scowled, his brow furrowing. “Viper—”

“I can’t interact with someone without putting them in danger, at a disturbingly high rate. You want me to enumerate where I’ve stuck my nose in not my business and people have gotten killed? Senator Hernandez, Isadora,” you began, holding up two fingers, “The nine men guarding Isadora, Maccabruno, Polson—”

“Don’t you dare do that to yourself.” Tom took a step forward, his foot almost curving into the pond. “You didn’t use the knife. You didn’t pull any triggers.”

“Yeah, but I sent them there. And a good many of them went because it was their job.” You sneered and propped your chin on your knees again.

“And it’s part of your job—”

“Yeah, whatever. Your friend is dead, and I have no home. I’ve stopped contacting the few people in my circle on the chance that they get dragged into this—Grace, Adrien—he’s the lights specialist guy, in case you don’t remember—I’ve got to email Glory, but that can’t be helped. And Dr. Prine only—fuck,” you said, dragging your hands down your face. “I don’t want anything to fucking happen to Dr. Prine. Or your family, for that matter.”

“Everyone not involved in the business is currently in hiding upstate,” said Tom, eyes narrowed as he glared at you. “If you like, I can ensure the same—”

“Stop acting so damn calm, Tom.” You let your legs dangle off the platform, hands clenching the edges. “I don’t have any strings left to pull. And fucking hell, I know that it would be extremely and absurdly conceited of me to believe that this series of crimes is aimed specifically at me, because how deluded, how arrogant could I get—but goddammit, this stuff feels a little too personalised. It feels like this person knows me.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Don’t you think it’s worth something that Glory Pham has been left alone? He knows how to get into Crosscreek, yet Glory hasn’t been touched. Is that not worthwhile?”

Your eyes watered, but you ducked your head so that he couldn’t see—but you released a dry sob (Fuck! Now is not the time for crying! Now is the time for being badass! Frown, or something!).

Tom spoke so quietly you almost didn’t catch it. “Do you want to leave?”

God, no. But it would make you feel like less of a burden. “Let me find an apartment first.”

“No, not like that. Hey, V. Look at me,” he said, and he tapped on the wall again.

You wouldn’t. Not like this. Not when your nose was running and when you didn’t have a plan.

“Please look at me, Viper.”

Glowering, you raised your head, lifting your chin higher than normal to seem confident, and oh, God—his eyes were wide and gentle; he’s leaning as far as he can over the pond, still unable to reach you.

“What I meant was if you wanted to leave the mob.”

It rang through your head like a distant cathedral bell, chiming through a deserted town—but then you were farther, out on the mountains, still listening to faint clanging.

“You’d have to kill me,” you said, shaking your head, “Don’t you remember?”

“Fuck,” Tom was saying, sucking in through his teeth, and after glancing at the water, he started jogging around the pond.

“I swore. I bled. And then even after that—then you knighted me.” You inhaled sharply when he reached the stones you’d climbed. “I’ve let you down.”

“Viper, get the fuck down from there and come here,” he said, and he withdrew, winching, when he stepped on a sharp edge.

“We shouldn’t have met,” you said, looking over your shoulder at him, and Tom froze, his hand partially gripping a hole in the stone wall. “I shouldn’t have taken the job. I should have gone to a different city. I should have—”

“Wasted your life away in the shadows? Just shut up and get down here.”

“Ah! The fuck?” You swatted his hand away when it grazed the platform, and when he climbed up another step, you pushed yourself off the platform and into the pond.

The first thing that struck you was how quiet everything was once the bubbles dissipated, and then you noticed how clear the water was, even from within it—glancing down, you could easily see your feet treading water above the broken grist mill wheels that had sunken to the bottom.

Before you could take it in to feel the emptiness in your chest, bubbles filled your vision again—and then his hands were grappling for you, grasping at your clothes, and pulling you towards the surface.

“I wasn’t fucking drowning,” you said, sliding a hand back through your hair, while Tom shook his head to flick off excess water. “I was fine without—”

“I know you weren’t.” Tom gripped your waist tightly enough to be painful, and he slid his other hand up between your shoulder blades. “I know. You wouldn’t die on me, and I’m not letting anyone else lay their hands on you. C’mon, arms around.”

He guided your arms around his waist, and once you had a good grip (hands sliding up his back), he kicked off to swim to the stone wall, backing you into it. Your toes skimmed the bottom of the pond, but Tom kept your head above the water, his thumbs circling your hipbones through your wet clothes.

Tom closed his eyes, his eyelashes heavy with water droplets. “There’s no solution to this where you die, got it?”

“Shucks.”

“I mean it. Talk to me. Tell me what you can.” Tom let out a breath slowly, and he bent to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “Please,” he said once you tensed up, his breath hot through your wet shirt, “Won’t you let me in?”

(Fuck fuck fuck fuck his chest is flush against yours; he’s so warm, so damn warm all over, and the water’s chill only makes you want to cling to him more, fuck.)

“You won’t like me,” you said, tentatively lifting a hand to curl your fingers into his hair, pulling slightly, “I’m not whom I’ve presented to you. I don’t have it under control.”

“I don’t expect you to.” Tom turned his head towards you; his lips almost grazed your neck (you relish their warmth anyway). “You wouldn’t be human, otherwise.”

“I don’t know an awful lot. Some days it seems like all I do is guesswork.” You grimaced but kept the slim distance from Tom’s mouth. If he wanted to, he would. “I’m lost completely on whoever the fake Epiales is. I keep looking for a pattern in everything, even—even so far back as to—”

You stuttered. Tom had pressed his lips to the base of your neck.

“There’s no consistency,” he said, nuzzling his nose against the spot where your neck met shoulder, “but there’s got to be a larger plan. I get it. The whole case is like a hydra, and we’re chopping blindly at the heads.”

(Oh, my God, he kissed you? He kiss the neck? He?)

“Oh! I forgot to tell you.” Tom pulled away to look you in the eye, and your mouth hung open of its own accord—come back! “I made myself watch the video again.” His jaw shifted. “To see if I missed anything, and I did. This time, I recognised the symbol on the guy’s forehead.” Tom lightly traced it onto your forehead with his middle finger. “It’s a zodiac symbol. It’s the one for Taurus.”

You nodded, still not really thinking at full capacity. “Great. Another piece of evidence that I won’t be able to make fucking sense of. Goddammit. I’m so useless. Goddammit,” you said, dropping your hand from his hair into the water with a splash. “Tom, I don’t talk to my mother much anymore. She doesn’t know where or who I am, and to be honest, I don’t know who I am, either. I don’t know where the truth is.”

You nearly slapped him when you cupped his cheek, like you were desperate, like you had to be touching him, skin on skin, that instant. It’d be nice if he would close his eyes and lean into your touch, maybe kiss your palm, but Tom simply stared at you in shock, eyes wide, brows raised, mouth pinched.

Don’t tell him, you whore. You built this fucking kingdom with its walls and bastions so that you would be safe when the outer defences crumbled. You’ve set aside parts of yourself into neat little boxes so that you can throw any of them away at any time and escaped unscathed. Don’t you fucking dare screw that up. Tom doesn’t know about Epiales so that you can expose and destroy him if you’re on his chopping block; it’s insurance for when everything falls.

Bitch, since when do you want to be honest and raw and vulnerable around anyone?

You can’t let him in.

“You’re still a woman of honour,” Tom said, and—oh, God, oh, fuck—he’s easing his hands down your body, his chest pressed against yours again, and he’s sliding them down your thighs to hook underneath your knees, and he’s hitched you up against the wall, the definition of his muscles real and palpable through the wet clothes, warm, warm, warm—

“I should apologise,” you said, turning your head to the side while he steered your legs around his waist, “I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

“You can’t?” Tom shifted you upwards, and that’s it; your heat is directly against him; you can feel every pull and tensing of his tendons, and if he keeps moving the way he is, then you’ll—

“I’m so sorry for making this about me when Z was closer to you. We shouldn’t waste time on me; we need to be searching, arranging a funeral if we can’t find anything.” You scrunched your eyes shut.

“You’re deflecting.” Tom let out a shuddery sigh. “I’ve lost too many people. Don’t make me lose you when you’re right in front of me,” he said, and he pressed his lips right below your ear.

You flinched away on impulse but tried to relax into him, blinking profusely.

Tom pushed against you (not localised enough to qualify as a thrust), and he cleared his throat before pulling away from your neck. “Listen, please. Please.” He shifted your weight to one hand and gripped your chin with his freed one. His eyes flickered to your mouth before he moved to rest his hand on your cheek. “You’re invaluable. Irreplaceable. You are no burden and are not at fault.” He clenched his jaw. “But I know you’re keeping something from me, and I will make the answer fall from your lips soon.”

Your own chin was shaking, and he was too close. If you put aside separate-self-as-insurance for a moment, let’s consider Tom did find out about Epiales. Would he control you through it? Would he use you to influence those he couldn’t reach? Would he grab hold of Dr. Prine? He might squeeze your life and time through his fist, and your freedom would be gone. Epiales was your freedom, your space to create and connect.

He was too close.

“You’ve got to promise not to hate me,” you said, and when he raised an eyebrow, you made your decision to lean in.

“No,” he said, and—and your lips met his cheek.

He’d turned his head.

After all that, he’s going to turn his head?

“No,” he said again, taking your chin again and leading you away, back to leaning against the stone wall, “I don’t want our first kiss connected to the memory of mourning. I can wait a bit longer.”

Tom released your legs, letting them sink. “You once told me that if you let yourself be vulnerable, you didn’t want an audience. I think,” he said, frowning, “I think you still see me as an outsider. As a member of that audience. And again, you said that you didn’t want it if it weren’t real.” He stepped away from you entirely, and he started wading towards the edge of the pond. “I’m going to hold you to the same standard. I’ll wait until you’re ready to be real with me.”

Tom slinked out of the pond, flicking away what excess water he could, and he squinted into the sun on the horizon. He shook his head, water flying, and he glanced back at you and scoffed. “Easy, sweetheart. No need to wear your heart on your sleeve now.”

His voice trailed off as he rounded the corner towards the door.

The sun is rising, and you feel rather cold.

***

inter vivos: between the living

***

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland/reader #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #mob au #mob!tom holland #mob tom holland #viper au #dash it all

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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

(Welcome to) Camp Lonely Heart

Grouping: Camp Counselor!Reader x Camp Counselor!Taehyung

Word Count: ~15.6k lmao

Warnings/Themes: walkie talkie sex + masturbation, graphic public sex in a field, descriptions throughout of breast play, 69ing, riding, fingering, creampie sorta, some bullying, some angst, concerned older brother Minho, OC is kinda flaky

Summary: It’s possible to find love in all sorts of places: In bars, in school, on apps. But what about through a walkie talkie?

Part of the Masterlist for Group 2 of the @btssmutclub Summer Project

A/N: sorry its late! tagging @classickei and @chimchurro

A noogie from his older brother is the first thing to welcome Taehyung when he arrives at the admin building for the first weekly counselor meeting. He sits through it patiently because he knows Minho means well and it’s better than those times where he just cups Taehyung’s face tenderly and says absolutely nothing. But this is why he insisted they arrive separately.

With Minho’s arm tossed over his shoulder, Taehyung makes his way into the familiar conference room. Despite the fact that this is his 3rd year as a junior counselor, the fact that the conference hasn’t changed since it was built in the 80’s still surprises him every time. The people inside it change fairly frequently, though. There’s always a steady rotation of counselors for both the boys’ and the girls’ camps on their respective sides of Lake Lonely Heart.

A smattering of people are already seated and chatting amongst themselves before the introductory meeting starts. As more people trickle in, Taehyung acknowledges them from his corner seat. Some veteran staff from the boys’ camp naturally come to his and Minho’s side of the table, greeting Minho mostly.

“How was your trip up, son,” asks one of the senior staff, Cref.

“It was good,” Minho gives a genuine smile up at Cref before giving a pointed look in Taehyung’s direction.

“Oh,” Cref’s eyes dim noticeably, “And how was your trip, Tae?”

“It was fine,” Taehyung’s answer matches Cref’s in its lack of warmth.

“I see you kept that little ponytail thing you had last summer.”

“Yeah.”

“Shame,” Cref huffs before turning to some of the other boys’ staff that arrived while he was talking and gesturing to Taehyung.

“Cref can you really talk when you’ve still got that comb-over?” The comment sends the other boys’ staff who’d been listening into a tizzy and Cref scoffs before turning on them to compensate. Meanwhile, Minho gives Taehyung a covert pat on the back.

None of the girls’ staff seemed to be watching the exchange with the exception of one girl who must be a new hire. Taehyung doesn’t recognize her face from last summer and though she’d been snoring softly when Taehyung first arrived, she looks at some of the jeering boys’ staff with a bit of muted disapproval. The look is brief because almost instantly another one of the counselors near her pulls her into another conversation. The sour tinge her features had disappears and leaves a gentle and open expression on her face as she listens to someone tell her about what to expect with her sleeper cabin.

There’s something nice about her face even though nothing specific jumps out at him as super beautiful or sexy. The soft way she smiles is subtle, almost like the turn of lips could have been a trick of the light. He wants to know what a full-blown smile would look like. Taehyung likes to think that he would have gotten up to talk to her. Eventually. If it weren’t for the camp leader entering the room with the dreaded Talking Stick.

“Alright everyone,” the camp leader shouts energetically, halting all conversations. “Veterans don’t spoil anything. Newbies, one of you raise your hand and tell me what you think this is,” she grins and wiggles the bedazzled stick in a wide circle.

Taehyung sighs and settles back further into his chair, ready to endure yet another round of icebreakers and name learning games.

“Here’s your humble abode for the next few months,” Moe grunts as she pushes the door of the cabin in. She smiles shakily before mumbling something about the paint job being so new that the door wouldn’t budge. A few hits to the door with her shoulder help it swing open.

The cabin looks nearly identical to that of Moe and Moe’s roommates. A pair of bunkbeds sit across the main room from one another. There’s some simple wooden furniture and a nice view of forest on the girls’ side of the lake in the front window by the door. The bathroom has two shower stalls and two sinks. The cabin is clearly made to hold four occupants.

“Are my roommates on their way?”

You walk in and admire the posters on the wall. They must have been left by some other counselor some number of summers ago.

“So, uh, you actually get this whole cabin to yourself.”

“Huh? Like I’ll be sleeping here by myself?”

“Yeah. I know its weird, but it’s not on purpose. The rooming system isn’t the most efficient. People fill the first cabin and then we fill the second one and on and on. When we got your answer, it was late and we’d perfectly filled 3 other cabins before this one. And since your position was the last one we filled before closing the apps, there weren’t any other people after you who could have been placed here.”

You try your hardest not to look too dismayed at your lonesome living situation. But, truthfully, one of the things that made you consider taking the position was the friends you were hoping to make on he job. The job testimonies on the Camp Lonely Hearts website mentioned that some of the best times of being a counselor were the times had in the cabin with coworkers after dark. With you being new to the city and this being the first summer in a long while where you weren’t forcing yourself into a boring 9-to-5, you wanted to take a chance on something inspiring instead. And you really wanted to make friends because city life alone was taking a toll on you. The chance to be a ‘youth leader for the young women and men of Camp Lonely Heart’ seemed like just the right thing.

Now, though, it looked like you would have to work a little harder to make the lasting connections you were expecting to fall into your lap the first night on the grounds.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” Moe says when some of the bouncy pluck in your shoulders seems to leave you with the sigh you let out. “You’re welcome to bring a sleeping bag and sleepover in cabin 3 any time.”

“Thanks, Moe.” She leaves you to unpack with the slow setting sun.

Everything seems clean enough under your quick inspection. You take over the bathroom with your toiletries and towels. The bunk bed is less uncomfortable than you thought it would be, and there’s an outlet near your little writing desk, so you’re able to plug in and set up your boombox. There’s no wifi at the camp, and while it’s an experience you’re looking forward to, you can’t live in total silence. You did, however, bid all your friends a temporary goodbye on Facebook after explaining where you’d be for the summer.

You switch the boombox onto radio mode and extend the boosted antennae. It picks up a classics station that you unpack to. The job is over quickly given that you only had to pack a few undergarments and pairs of shorts to rotate with the t-shirts that they give to counselors so people don’t confuse some of you with campers.

When boredom starts clawing at the edges of your brain, you snoop through all the little corners and crannies you ignored when you first arrived and were busy with settling in. You don’t find much. You find a shoebox with a bunch of office supplies under the other bunk bed, a supremely large beetle carcass on your window sill, and a solar powered walkie talkie in the bottom drawer of the writing desk.

The walkie talkie obviously is the most intriguing find out of all of your finds, but you don’t see its mate in the cabin. Surprisingly enough, it powers up, but it has a low battery. You fiddle with the channels and mumble a wimpy little ‘anyone there’ into the first one. Figuring that no one is there, you lower it from your ear and move to go make your bed when the device sounds.

“Hello?”

The voice is deep and smooth. You’re so spooked by the response that the walkie talkie slips from your hand and clatters to the floor with a loud clunk. You let out a curse and bend down to pick it up only to find that the transmission was cut off from the impact. With the hopes that you can revive the device, you stick it in the bathroom window where you know it will get the most sun during the day and pray it's not broken.

Before you head to bed early, you go over your schedule and how you’re going to present yourself to the kids the next morning. It takes a while for you to memorize your schedule because your mind is slightly preoccupied, wondering what the person on the other end must be thinking of your sudden departure.

You were worried that it would take a while to adjust to your position and that the kids would be intimidating, but quickly you realize there was nothing to worry about.

You love your girls more than you could have predicted. They took to you instantly since you were the youngest among the counselors. Even the 17-year-olds, who are the oldest campers there, flocked to you too during parts of the daily schedule that you weren’t leading. Many of the girls in high school would drag you to their table in the mess hall during dinner or the free period before lights out to ask you for school advice and questions about the more mysterious parts of life. It instills in you a strong sense of responsibility that you didn’t think was possible. You didn’t think you’d ever find teenagers endearing.

The camp itself is kind of like a hazy afternoon dream. The nature around you is beautiful and the air is crisp. If you take a 20 minute trek away from the main grounds, you stumble into the camp’s medium sized lavender field. It’s your favorite place to be at any time of the day because the air is thick with the scent of the purple flower. The first time you see it, you’re joining one of the other junior counselors, Jade, to grab some plants for craft time.

“You’re gonna trap flies like that,” Jade gestures to your slack mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just that we barely even get grass on the sidewalks at my new apartment. And this is...so beautiful.”

You can’t help it really. The sweet scent that had been coating your nose and throat since you were halfway up the trail just increased ten-fold and has stolen the place of your breath.

“Yeah, it has that effect on people. But you get used to it after working here long enough and the smell starts to fade. You might even get a little sick of it.”

You shake your head to clear it and try to fathom the idea of being sick of lavender. The rows of plants are lush, huge, and neat. You walk through the small plowed paths between each bush looking for the most fragrant patch you can find. There’s what looks like a few other counselors from the other side of the lake wandering through some nearby rows, looking for the same thing you are. You tap Jade’s shoulder when their backs are turned to you and whisper.

“They’re from the boys’ camp, right? Do you know those guys? ” Jade turns and squints into the distance before straightening up immediately.

“Oh my god, yeah, that’s Minho. He’s the yoga instructor for the boys.” Her tone takes on a wispy, dreamy quality. “He’s so nice and so cool. And, like, really funny.”

The man in question has on a shockingly bright Tiffany blue t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to beat the heat. And perhaps showcase his sculpted arms. He looks tall and broad from your vantage point, but he doesn’t seem extraordinary at first glance. Maybe he’s really great once you get to know him.

“What about the other one?” The slightly shorter man with the tiny ponytail and coke-bottle glasses catches your attention more. Even though he’s fairly far away, you can tell he has a nice profile. Jade squints again and hums in thought.

“Mm, I don’t know. I think he’s one of the newer guys. I don’t really remember his spiel from the intro meeting. Do you know him?”

“No,” you give him one last look before squatting down and getting to work. “Just curious.”

***

“—and then move this finger here,” Taehyung nudges one of the camper’s fingers until it’s sure to make the guitar in his hands sing that way he wants. “That’s the last part of the chord. So from there you can play that song we went over in musical hour. Did you take notes?”

“Yeah.” The kid in front of him is probably no more than 16, maybe a baby-faced 17. He looks too nervous for an impromptu guitar review during free time.

“Kook, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Jungkook hangs his head a little in embarrassment. “Just...what if I suck at guitar?”

“Then you suck at guitar,” Taehyung shrugs. “It’s okay to not be good at things. Especially if you’re just learning them for the first time.”

“I know, but I really need to be good at this. I have to be able to learn a song in less than a week by the time camp ends.”

“That can be kind of fast depending on the song. Why do you need to learn songs so quick?”

Jungkook’s round cheeks heat up and he eyes his peers who are playing jacks at one of the dinner tables. “There’s this girl...”

Taehyung hums knowingly and smiles down at the kid. “I see. Did you tell her you could play guitar?”

“How did you know?” Jungkook’s are wide as he eyes Taehyung like he read his mind.

“Just a guess.”

The camper nods. “I told her I’d learn her favorite song and play it for her when she gets back from vacationing with her parents. But I obviously don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Well, I can’t promise you that you’ll become a prodigy before the end of camp, but I’ll let you borrow my guitar every day as long as you promise to practice like you mean it every time.”

“If I do that, do you think I’ll at least be able to learn her song?”

“I’ll personally help you learn the song.” Jungkook’s shoulder relax instantly once he realizes he’s in good hands.

***

“Star, it’ll be fine. Really,” you try your hardest to get the tiny middle schooler to stop shaking without drawing attention to her as you bring her into the admin building. “Once your mom picks up, I’m sure she’ll understand and she’ll bring your hormones over.”

“I know,” Star’s frame shivers with the force of her hiccups, her eyes pink and watery. “But I can’t believe I forgot them at all. She didn’t even wanna let me go because she was worried I’d lose them.”

“But you didn’t lose them, sweetpea. You forgot them. Kinda different.” The little sobs, now intermittent at best, halt as she processes your logic.

You show Star to the telephone used for emergency contact or extreme cases of homesickness before stepping away to let her have some privacy with her mother. In the meantime, you let the borrowed keys of Moe’s truck swing from your fingers while you explore the halls of the admin building.

It feels odd roaming the various wings of the building when you’re not there for your Wednesday morning staff check-ins. The layout isn’t any different from those days, but you rarely get to see the other parts since you usually just make a beeline for the conference room.

The white painted cinder block walls and the linoleum tiles give you flashbacks to your own adolescent days in school. As does the un-ironic use of retro inspirational posters—though you suppose they weren’t retro when they were first put up. A few doors leading to utility closets or other, smaller conference rooms. While hunting for the staff lounge, you find a counselor you recognize from your side of the lake talking covertly with a counselor presumably from the boys’ side. Your roll your eyes when they give a disdainful stare for breaking their private moment and keep snooping.

At the end of the hall is the communal laundry room. The lines for it are usually awful on Wednesdays. You peer in just to see what it is you don’t have to deal with since you have your own unit in your little cabin. In that moment, you catch someone holding up boxers. You recognize them as that Minho guy that all the counselors seemed to have fallen for.

“Did you find any extra detergent, Tae?” He turns to you then and realizes you’re not who he thinks you are and you’re out of there as quickly as possible.

When you get back to the phone, Star is waiting patiently with no more tears and news that her mom will be dropping off her hormones and some homemade fudge.

***

Breakfast is served to the counselors at asscrack od dawn so that they can get the mess hall ready for the campers and complete the first things on the schedule for the day. Usually it's not so bad, but today’s early rise is hard for Taehyung because Minho brought some of the other counselors into their cabin the night before and they didn’t leave until late.

So when Taehyung stumbles into the mess hall looking for pancakes, he hasn’t given any thought to his morning appearance. He fixes his plate and sits across from his brother since the spot next to him is taken by Cref.

Taehyung’s wearing an old t-shirt that’s gone through many of his more experimental phases with clothes. The previously white t-shirt is now a soft apricot color after a night he was practicing with dyes a few years ago and the sleeves are thin in the places he took scissors to the shirt.

“Nice lingerie,” Cref sneers down his nose at Taehyung while he picks at his breakfast meat sleepily. “You know, I think I saw something at the mall a few weeks ago.”

A few of the guys sitting on the side laugh, some even dumbly repeat the joke under their breath as they chuckle into their breakfast.

“Fuck off, Cref.” Taehyung’s sigh comes out deeply tired. More tired than one could be from one night up too late from a noisy roommate’s friends. “It’s too early for this.”

“Yeah, Cref,” Minho pipes up, eyes locked on Taehyung’s sleep-puffy face and messy long hair. “We all know you don’t personally have the ass to pull off anything in a lingerie shop. And you definitely don’t have anyone’s ass to pull them off of either. You just sound sad, man.”

Cref stammers at Minho’s comment, not missing the subtle way the jab went a little deeper than it normally does when the two are just ripping on one another for fun. He admits defeat and sends a little nod in Taehyun’s direction. The same guys who were giggling earlier look on at Minho with some awe and are quick to jump on Cref for his non-existent ass as well.

When Minho kicks him under the table, Taehyung gives him a small thumbs up before taking his now half-eaten plate away to dump.

***

Dinners are normally spent at a table off to the side with the campers because they want to be able to treat you less like an authority figure and more like a wise older sister. But tonight you’re eating with the other counselors because you’re missing adult company. It’s been hard to have any of the bonding moments you were hoping for and there’s not much time during the day to have them when you’re trying to patch up skinned knees and guide macaroni projects.

Even though everyone is friendly enough and does try to make sure you feel included, you can’t help but notice how peripheral you are. After a few weeks, everyone has their designated dinner seat, so you were forced to pull up a chair to eat. Once the plates were cleared, you still felt a little left out. Apparently everyone makes a habit of staying up a little later than you so they can have time to unwind and talk about the day together in the other cabins. Apparently, people even share bunks occasionally so that they can visit non-roommate staff for the night.

You know you’re really not part of the group when the conversation becomes 80% inside jokes and you can’t recognize or understand a single one. The girl next to you attempts to explain the first few, but it slows the conversation down and you can tell that people are losing their patience when a story has to halt for you to catch up on nicknames or events. She stops explaining after the 4th one and you don’t really blame her. Maybe you should have spent dinners with them more. Or maybe you shouldn’t have gone to bed so early; even on the nights where you felt the exhaustion in your bones.

While everyone laughs about something someone said one night earlier in the summer, you construct a mental pros and cons list in your head. You could stick around and try to scrape through every single thing everyone says until you get all the jokes and can understand why random things like the brisket you’re eating is so funny. Or you can accept that you’ll probably have to forge these connections individually and not feel bad about getting well-deserved rest when you need it.

You opt for the latter and genuinely explain to everyone that while you had a nice time, you’re feeling a little fatigued. No one looks like they’ve caught on, but no one looks too upset to see you go either. The conversation continues to flow as you leave the dining hall, no need to fill the space you left because you didn’t really leave one. The walk from the mess hall to your cabin is short and brisk and you feel as though you’re not sure you made the right choice. You hope sleep will clear your head.

But before you get to the little fork in the foot trail that separates the other cabins from yours, you get struck with a current of rebellion. If you’re going to be lonely, you might as well make the solo time as fun as possible. So you sneak behind one of the cabins, searching for the cooler you know is wedged under the raised foundation. The first night there, someone showed you the booze that they brought in behind the camp leader’s back during the strict luggage inspection. If you recall correctly, you remember this girl saying that her boyfriend drives up during the weekly meetings and drops off new cases of beers for her to scoop up under the guise of a “bathroom break”.

When you open the cooler, there’s several 40s sitting in a bath of ice. It’s not your drink of choice, but beggars can’t be choosers. You take two for good measure and skip off to go drink on your porch with the radio blaring from inside the cabin.

***

“Tae, come on. You haven’t pulled your trunks out once since we got here.”

Minho whines fairly well for someone of his stature and it’s convincing enough with the pouty lips and the puppy eyes that Taehyung really does consider it. ‘It’ being swapping his pajamas for some board shorts and heading out to the lake for a night swim. Apparently the water will be refreshing in the thick and heavy heat in the night air. One of the other counselors had promised a smuggled beer, but Taehyung isn’t really interested in tempting fate.

“I don’t think I’m up for it,” Taehyung says while pushing Minho out the front door of their cabin. His biggest fans Jay and Dan are waiting outside and groan when Minho turns back again.

“You sure you don’t want to come? Maybe you’ll end up having fun. You never know.”

Jay whispers to Dan then. “I don’t know why he’s always so obsessed with bringing him around to stuff. It’s not like he adds anything to the mood, you know?”

It’s loud enough for Taehyung to hear, though he doesn’t think it was supposed to be heard. Minho instantly shoves Jay into Dan, who both go stumbling off the steps of the cabin porch. A moment later his eyes admit defeat and he pats Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Do you want company? I can stay in and you can, like, teach me the color wheel again.”

“Really, it’s fine. I’m gonna do some reading. I brought a few books that I’ve been wanting to crack open. And I’m kinda tired. Don’t worry about me.”

***

By the time you’ve finished half of your second bottle, you’ve migrated back into your cabin. Drunk-you is a little paranoid and worried that the camp leader will show up out of nowhere and see you intoxicated. Although, as you flop onto your bed, you’re not sure that’s such a bad thing. At least then you’d have company, you muse.

The bottle hangs from your lax fingers and you take a look at your surroundings. The screen door is facing out towards the lake and the view shows that the boys’ side of the camp is still awake with the lights from their own cabins shining like small beacons back at you. Then you look back and there’s the four walls of wood. You wonder briefly if its pine or oak before realizing you’re a little too drunk if you’re trying to distinguish between types of lumber. You do appreciate the wood’s warm tone and the natural striations that add some intrigue to the otherwise bland walls. If it weren’t for the abandoned Kiki’s Delivery Service poster on one wall facing your bed, you might think you were in a wooden version of solitary confinement.

Your head turns to rest more comfortably on your pillow and you gaze up at the little writing desk below the window that faces the woods behind the cabin. A little blurry shadow obscures some of the view of the forest and you sit up to see it better. It’s the little walkie talkie you discovered on the first day.

Drunkenness and boredom compel you to leave the softness of your mattress and stumble over to the window. The walkie talkie spent several weeks in the sun, so you figure it can’t be out of battery. You also figure it can’t have actually been destroyed from the meter it fell from your hand to the floor that one day. So you flip the power switch with blind hope and squeal excitedly when it turns on. Pressing the ‘talk’ button, you hop around the main room of the cabin and hum into the first channel. The song you’re singing is a broken version of a tune your grandfather used to always have floating in the air of his house from his record player. The melody sloshes together at certain points like the contents of the bottle you continue to take generous swigs from.

***

Taehyung’s reading in his bed, trying to tune out the sounds of distant splashing and shouting coming from his co-counselors by the lakeside. When he picks up the sound of sloppy singing, he wonders if Minho has come back to the cabin for a towel or to try to convince him to come back out again. But the door of the cabin doesn’t swing open. Taehyung is confused for about 5 more seconds before he’s eyeing the dark space under his bed suspiciously. There, underneath a sheet that fell down the crack between the mattress and the bed, is the walkie talkie that’s been collecting dust since the night before the camp session started.

He shifts an arm down behind the bed and disentangles the device from the sheets and dust bunnies. Sure enough, the broken lilting of the soft tune is coming from the walkie talkie. To say he’s surprised is an understatement. A few weeks prior, he’d turned on the walkie talkie by accident and a moment later someone’s voice sparked from the speaker. He was intrigued enough by the voice to leave the device on during the day, charging it often in case whoever was on the other side would want to tune in again.

Now, the fog of sleep rises to make room for this little mystery. He doesn’t try to speak just yet. Instead, he lets your voice continue your rendition of a few songs mashed into one from a famous jazz album. When your voice putters out because you forget where the rest of the tune’s trail leads, Taehyung smiles to himself.

“I really—hic—wish someone was there,” your whisper crackles through the speaker.

He worries a bit about scaring you off again, but the urge to speak outweighs the worry. He holds the device up to his mouth hesitantly. “Someone is.”

“Oh.” You don’t seem nearly as startled as you were last time he spoke up. “The void speaks.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not the void.”

“Well,” you hiccup more into the walkie talkie and the sound is funny and tiny. “I suppose you’re not if you say you’re not. But who’s to say the void isn’t just a consciousness trapped in a reality that won’t answer back.”

“Wow. Do you normally philosophize in the midnight hour while drinking?”

The sound of you taking a large swig from your 40 washes into his side. “How did you know I’ve been drinking?”

“Call it a hunch,” he grins up at the slats of the mattress above his own.

“Well, what are—what are you doing?”

“Me?” For some reason the question takes him by surprise. “I’m just reading.”

“Reading what?”

“N-nothing.” He stares down at the book he was reading. “It’s just an art book.”

“What kind of art?”

“Uh, Van Gogh,” he trails off, waiting for your reaction.”Van Gogh’s art.”

“Oh, that kid. Nice one.” You let out a burp, but otherwise sound completely serious.

Taehyung can’t help the laughter that takes over him. It’s not that your reaction was stupid, but it was so unexpected and nonchalantly ridiculous that his brain can only react with laughter. You grumble at him through the speaker, but don’t actually take offense. He laughs for so long that you’re silent on the other line when he finally calms down.

“Sorry,” he wipes at his eyes, “I didn’t mean to laugh at you like that. I just...I’ve never heard anyone do something like that.”

“‘s okay,” your shrug is practically audible.

“Hey, you’re not a camper from the girls’ side, are you?”

“Are you asking if I’m one of Camp Lonely Hearts’ young women?” Your voice takes on a strange lisp in attempt to sound hauty.

“Yes?”

“Well, sadly I’m not. I’m a counselor over there, though.”

“I think this is the first time I’ve talked with one of you guys this whole summer.”

Back in your cabin, you have the walkie talkie resting against your ear after having fallen back into bed. Your feet are at the wrong end of the mattress, but you don’t care because the sound of the deep voice on your little radio is soothing and pairs well with your beer exhaustion.

“Mmm, me too.”

Your breathing slows and evens out, lengthening in Taehyung’s ear. He lays the walkie talkie down then, realizing that you’re probably on the verge of falling asleep. From the sound of it, you probably fell asleep with the ‘talk’ button still activated. He switches his walkie talkie off after mumbling an awkward ‘goodnight’ and lays the device down on the ground near his bed. He falls asleep quickly that night.

*** After waking up slightly hungover but not hungover enough to be without memory of the night before, you panicked.

Whoever this mystery person was on the other end of the walkie talkie, you had babbled dark philosophical nonsense at them for a good five minutes before doing who knows what else. You were so embarrassed you could hardly swallow down the overlooked eggs they served you for breakfast that morning. Being on kitchen duty didn’t help the upset stomach. You felt nauseated by your dopey antics and the smells of the meat and eggs you were frying for the campers’ breakfast.

The only thing that settled your stomach was the resolute plan you made to apologize to the mystery person over your lunch break. You hoped to all that was good in the world that the other person wasn’t a camper that was so scarred by your actions that they already reported you to the camp leader. Although, something about their tone when they asked you if you were a camper the night before made you think they were a counselor like you. It was the nerves and the hint of disappointment that even drunk-you picked up on. Nerves and disappointment about what, though?

With all your musing, you’re spaced out during physical education period and get brained by a volleyball. It’s actually a blessing in disguise because it means you get sent home and don’t have to work the dinner shift. The walk back to your cabin is full of you patting the tender skin of the back of your head while you practice your explanation for why your dignity is still actually intact and why you’re not as weird as you may have seemed last night.

But when you get back to your cabin, you find that you’re more nervous of the idea that no one picks up than the idea that they do pick up to give you a piece of their mind. Still, you switch the device on because you want to explain yourself. The first channel crackles to life again and you press the ‘talk’ button.

***

“I’m telling you, if these kids would just put their phones down, their spinal alignment would be so much better. You ever looked at their little shoulders? They looks like fucking mole hills. Makes me wanna cry.”

Minho is trying as best he can to remain still despite how much the topic of young people’s posture riles him up. Taehyung appreciates the effort, though, as it makes Minho’s silhouette much easier to capture on his canvas. On nights when there isn’t much to do, Taehyung takes out his paints and sometimes gets his older brother to be his model. In exchange, Minho gets to rant to a whole person about the dangers of office chairs on the coccyx or whatever the sexy new topics are in his chiropractors' digest.

Tonight is one of those nights and Taehyung’s managed to fill the canvas with three different poses and has also learned why he shouldn’t ever cross his legs for extended periods of time or diss nursing shoes until he’s tried them. But before he can ask Minho to find another position to hold, the walkie talkie by the foot of his bed fires up; on from when he turned it on as soon as he got back into his cabin for the day.

“Hello? It’s me,” your voice calls tentatively out into the air.

“Ooooh, who’s that?” Minho’s eyes turn into little semi circles as he grins at Taehyung. The mocking coos are inaudible to you because Taehyung hasn’t pressed the ‘talk’ button and he’s glad for that too. He quickly flips Minho the bird before scooping up the little device and leaving to sit on the porch.

Time stretches thin as you wait for an answer. The seconds are long. Long enough that your face is hot with unnamed shame and you’re reaching to switch the device off when—

“Hey. Sorry about the delay.”

“Hey!” You pull back automatically before remembering you’re the one who initiated the call. No backing down now. “So, I’m—I’m sure you remember the other night.”

“I do,” he snickers and recalls the way you’d bumbled around verbally. “Are you back for a repeat performance?”

“Uh, no. I actually wanted to apologize for being so weird yesterday. I was kinda drunk and I didn’t think about the fact that I might be bothering someone by turning this thing on and talking into it.”

“You didn’t bother me.”

“I didn’t?” You were just about to venture into the next part of your prepared speech, but now that you don’t need to, you’re at a loss for words. “That’s...good to hear. Are you sure? I can be kind of a lot when I’m drunk.”

“I really didn’t mind. It was a nice change from—I mean, it was funny. And nice.”

“Nice? I can’t remember the last time someone said I was nice.” The laugh behind your voice is subtle, but it sweetens the tone of your already pleasant words until Taehyung is smiling again.

“Glad to be of service, then,” he shoves a hand in his pocket.

“You sound nice too,” you blurt out. The sound of your feet hitting the floor in a little dance of embarrassment are thankfully too soft to reach Taehyung’s ears. “I mean—”

“Thanks. So,” he clears his throat softly, “do you like jazz?”

From that night on, you and Taehyung begin talking with one another via walkie talkie. Every night, a few hours before sunset, one of you will send out a little message to the other. Nearly like clockwork. Nearly because there are some nights where the conversation gets put on the back burner. Those were unusual nights, though. On one of those nights, the older counselors wanted to host an ABBA karaoke night with some of the older campers in the dining commons and you couldn’t miss it because 1) the 17-year-olds really like you, and 2) you can completely body an ABBA song despite the fact that you were never an avid fan growing up. Another one of those nights Taehyung couldn’t make it because Minho dragged him out of the room to play flashlight tag in the woods. He didn’t even have time to change out of his paint-stained shirt, much less shoot you a quick warning about not being able to talk. Although you didn’t like being left hanging, when he explained why he was busy the following night, you completely understood. Because, really, how often does an adult flashlight tag opportunity come up?

Even still—on nights like those you both miss each other’s voices.

99% of the time, though, you both make time for talking with one another. When you both are in, you talk about anything and everything. From family and life outside the camp to joke competitions that have Minho snorting to himself from under the covers even though he’s supposed to be asleep. The number of movie and book recommendations you’ve swapped only to find out that the other person was a fan is almost too high to not make you wonder if you’re actually stuck in some cliché young adult summer novel.

These days Taehyung’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Usually he doodles what he thinks you could look like in his Moleskin while ignoring Minho’s weird soft looks or wiggly eyebrows. Sometimes he’s not up for sharing his cool new digital pal with his brother and he’ll migrate outside, to the back of the cabin, and endure the bugs so he can enjoy your voice in peace. The only downside is that Minho won’t let him live it down. The countless jokes about his new lady friend only get worse when Minho slips up one breakfast and lets all the other counselors know that Taehyung’s been avoiding the group to talk to you. The raucous applause was one thing, but Cref’s fake pride that Taehyung managed to capture female attention was enough to have him kicking Minho under the table for his indiscretion. But it wasn’t all that bad.

You’re fairly content with the way things are as well. You’ve managed to get your boombox radio to play a local ‘best of’ jazz station and it reminds you of your myste when you’re not talking with him. It's only until you catch yourself trying to recall Taehyung’s appearance that you realize what you’re missing. That is, you don’t know what he looks like and that makes you feel odd. In theory, people don’t need to know what their friends look like. Pen pals and mutuals on social media sites don’t always know what their internet friends look like and still manage to talk for years and feel a real sense of closeness. But you keep wondering. Is he tall, is he brunet, is he pretty?

The thought keeps plaguing you until one day the question just tumbles out of your mouth. It’s a Tuesday, and you’re getting ready for bed because you have to be up earlier on Wednesdays for the weekly meetings. Taehyung had just been telling you about a flip that the arts director did that morning off the pier. It was a grisly story of broken legs and nose bleeds and how Taehyung became both the arts and music counselor until further notice. You’d been trying to listen diligently but you couldn’t help drifting off. You’re trying to picture Taehyung’s face solely off the timber of his voice when that same voice blares a little louder than normal in your ear.

“Yo, did you fall asleep on something?”

“How tall are you?”

“Uh,” is all you get back from him. And it’s honestly an appropriate response to such a blunt change of subject.

“Sorry, that was kinda rude of me. It’s just that I realized that you’re probably the closest person to me in this whole camp and we’re not even on the same side of the lake...I just realized I don’t even know your name. And I definitely wouldn’t be able to pick you out in a crowd.”

“That’s—that’s true,” he gnaws thoughtfully on his lip and Minho raises his surprised and bespectacled gaze from a physical rehabilitation manual. “I’m Taehyung.”

He’s not sure how he managed to spend weeks talking with you nearly every night only to never ask for your name. When he was alert and talking with you, he felt no gaps, he didn’t even think to ask. But, Taehyung thinks, maybe the thought came to him when he was on the fuzzy border of sleep and wakefulness. When he was most open and sometimes the yearning slipped out. He doesn’t say any of that to you, of course. He just listens to you reply with your own name and repeats it to you until you’re praising him for the way it sounds on his tongue. Minho makes fun of him and whispers your name in a squeaky voice that’s supposed to be Taehyung’s.

“I like your name,” you chirp. You’re so happy to have one more piece to the puzzle that is Taehyung that you almost forget your original question. “So, Taehyung, what do you look like.”

“I’m 5’10.5,” he starts. “And I have...blond hair. All my friends tell me I have a perfect face–”

“Is that so?”

“–and a great chest-to-waist ratio. I don’t wear makeup, b-but if I did my MAC shade would be NW30.” Minho narrows his eyes at Taehyung, but the younger man simply turns away.

“That’s nice?” You sound a bit baffled by the description as well, but you try to take it in stride and picture it.

The resulting image in your mind isn’t exactly what you expected, but you guess you can’t be surprised that he looked different from how you imagined when you didn’t even know his name. You rattle off your own appearance, though not quite so awkwardly. When you’re finished, you wonder what he imagines with the description you gave. What does he think, you wonder. Do I sound nice?

Taehyung, on the other hand, realizes instantly who you are. You’re the girl that was falling asleep during the first meeting. He remembers watching your head lolling back and forth during the icebreaker and trying to contain his laughter when the camp leader shouted loud enough to wake you. He remembers your boisterous laughter at the third weekly meeting when someone thought it would be funny to round up 5 squirrels and release them into the conference room to watch the mayhem unfold. If he’s being honest, he’s actually more excited with the connection he’s made now. He’s glad it’s you. It makes sense.

“Well, I guess this will make tomorrow’s meeting a little more fun, right?”

“Huh,” he snaps out of deep thought. “Why?”

“Because now we can talk to each other in person.” Your voice is brimming with excitement and it’s easy to hear even through the half mile of distance and the static-y connection. “I’ll be able to find you now.”

“Yeah,” his voice trails off guiltily but you don’t catch onto it because you’re busy smoothing out your sheets.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Taehyung,” you bid him goodnight with extra giddy emphasis on his name now that you can actually use it. It’s cute and should probably bring a smile to his face, but as he turns off the device, he can only purse his lips in frustration.

The sounds of sheets rustling remind him of his brother’s presence and he lets out a sigh, waiting for the lecture that’s about to come.

“So,” Minho begins slowly, “How come the person you described was cousin Jin when she asked you what you looked like?”

“In my defense, I...”

“In your defense, what? I’m really curious about what your explanation is.”

“I didn’t want her to be disappointed. And no one’s ever been disappointed by Jin’s looks, so when I got nervous I just gave her his greatest hits.”

“I heard. The foundation thing was a little much.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.

“Why do you think she would be disappointed?”

“I don’t know. I guess if for some reason the appearance stuff was important to her, I thought it made sense not to leave things to chance. In case that would mess things up.”

“But what if, to her, lying is even worse than having an ‘ugly’ friend,” Minho asks with air quotes included.

“Then...I fucked up big time.” Taehyung holds his head in his hands for a few minutes before eventually looking up helplessly. “But I didn’t do it to spite her or anything.”

“Did you really just do it because you thought she would be disappointed? She doesn’t sound that shallow to me, and I don’t know her like you do.”

“Yes and no,” he groans and tosses himself onto the mattress. “I mean, I wanted to seem good in her eyes. Someone she might...like?”

“Someone she might like? She does like you.”

“Someone she might,” Taehyung eyes Minho softly, “want to be with.”

“Ah,” he nods sagely. “So it’s like that.”

“It’s like that.”

“Then you know what you need to do.”

“Yeah. I’ll tell her tomorrow. During the meeting.”

***

Taehyung figures that the idea of preserving his friendship with you being so important will make confessing his lie to you super easy. But when he lumbers into the meeting room the following morning at 6:30, the nerves take over. He grows silent. He stays silent when you come in looking too chipper for a normal morning meeting. And when you spend the majority of the meeting studying the face of every counselor from the boys’ side of the camp, looking for the man described to you on the phone yesterday and not finding him. And when the meeting officially adjourned and you’re standing around hoping for some sort of explanation. Silent when he eventually slips out while Minho is in the bathroom and someone has started chatting you up.

He knows that eventually he’ll have to face you—figuratively speaking. The floor will probably have a trench plowed into it from where he paces the area in front of his bunk anxiously. Sundown is soon and normally you’d be tuning in at this time to see what his plans are for the night and talk about each other’s days. But as the minutes tick by, his walkie talkie stays quiet. Minho pins him with an expectant look before mumbling something about going to go hang out in someone else’s cabin. Maybe he thought Taehyung would benefit from the privacy, but the empty space on the other side of the room just makes him more aware of how the ball is in his—and only his—court. He picks up the walkie talkie and presses the ‘talk’ button.

“You there?” When he gets no response at first, he presses again. This time, he just calls your name pleadingly. Surprisingly, you pick up.

“Is this Taehyung?”

“What? Yes, who else—”

“Or maybe this is Mr. tiny waist dorito face SPF 30. Can’t tell who’s who these days.”

He ducks his head. The smile in his voice is self-deprecating. “It’s me. Taehyung.”

“What can I help you with this evening?” Your voice is sharper than it normally is, but subtly so. He almost wants you to just yell at him instead.

“I just wanted to say sorry.”

“For friend-catfishing me?”

“Yes. For lying and for not coming clean at the meeting when I first saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything at the meeting,” your voice wavers a bit, traitorous in the way it shakes. “I was looking for you.”

“I know. I really was gonna tell you. You can ask Minho. But I just got scared all of the sudden. Like as soon as you saw me, you’d regret the decision to ever talk with me.”

“Tae, I wouldn’t do that. I really...I care for you. Something like that doesn’t just go away because what you pictured in your head isn’t 100% reality.”

Your words are simple, but he feels comfort from them. The grip he had on the plastic of the walkie talkie loosens significantly and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“I still haven’t been completely honest with you, yet.”

“What is it now. Do you even work here?”

“No, no,” he chuckles and the sound drives you to chew on your thumb. “When you asked me what I looked like that night, I described my cousin to you.”

“Yes, ok, we’ve established that you’re not really Mr. Dorito head. What else is there,Taehyung, you’re making me nervous.”

“Hear me out.” You huff but otherwise settle for tapping your foot rapidly to channel the nerves productively. “I told you that I did that because I thought you wouldn’t want to be friends with me. But that’s not the only reason.”

“Okay,” you trail off.

“I did it because I thought maybe if you thought I was handsome, it would make it easier for you to, uh, return the feelings I have for you. I...like you. In a like-like way.”

“I see.”

Now it’s your turn to stretch the pause out until Taehyung’s fisting tufts of his hair in his free hand. The walkie talkie is probably going to leave a red imprint on his face from how hard he’s pressing it to his cheek, but he doesn’t even register the discomfort.

“I really don’t like that you lied to me,” you begin. “But, since I really like-like you, you can be on probation.”

The sound of exaggerated gagging sounds from the entryway of the cabin where Minho has been eavesdropping for the last five minutes. Taehyung doesn’t even bother to chastise his older brother for getting into his business and instead lets laughter bubble passed his lips.

Not too much changed after the night you both confessed to one another. Supposedly that’s a sign that you had a good foundation for your romantic relationship. But there are little changes and they’re noticeable. Much to Minho’s chagrin.

Most notably to everyone involved, since that night, the tone of the walkie talkie conversations shifted. Now your voices have become a little more hushed and Taehyung absolutely refuses to pick up the device unless he’s alone, whining until Minho leaves the cabin or is truly asleep. If the talks go on late enough, midnight moonlight lays a forlorn, whispered feel over you both and things become a competition for who can be the mushiest. The air is made of breathy laughs that bleed into sighs and unironic use of ‘No, you hang up first’. It’s all so rosy and the happiness you feel starts to stain your cheeks and smile. The other counselors notice too. A few give you meaningful looks like they’ve caught on. Moe, especially, looks proud to see that the dour cloud that was hovering over you has dissipated some. Others don’t quite have it right. They ask you if you’ve been sneaking weed into the camp. You don’t give up your secret for either of them. Mainly because you could face disciplinary action, but also because you don’t want the next time there’s a meeting to be turned into a spectacle. It’s not lost on you that you still don’t know what Taehyung looks like. But you were being sincere when you said that you didn’t need that to care for him.

Still, the curiosity wears on the edges of your consciousness every now and then. You can’t quite ignore the idea that you guys are sort of dating—that you may have a boyfriend at the end of this summer—and you still can’t tell when you’re in a room with him. Despite this, you feel a visceral attraction to him growing from what was a gentle simmer to a boil the longer you exchange pillow talk with him. At the right moments of the night, your hands itch to feel the solid weight of him, of any part of him. To have something other than the intangible rasp of his voice when he spills his feelings to you over the walkie talkie.

***

The Sunday night before the last week of camp finds you, of course, on the walkie talkie. Unlike all the previous conversations, there’s a bittersweetness that you’re trying to swallow down. You’ll both be busy with preparations for the end of the summer festival where both sides of the camp meet—this year on the girls’ side of the lake—to celebrate a summer well spent. This means you won’t have the time or the energy to talk to one another before the big day. If it wasn’t for the fact that you still hadn’t met up properly, you wouldn’t be bemoaning the brief absence so much. But with the end of the camp session rapidly approaching, questions linger in the air. It’s not clear what happens to what you have with Taehyung once you’re not close enough to use walkie talkies to talk with one another every night. So you cherish every minute you get with the man, even if its just his voice.

“I wish we could just keep talking forever,” you whine half into your pillow, half into the balmy night air. You’re trying your best to combat the heat with your sheets kicked down to your ankles and your lightest sleep clothes on. The tone you use is one you might normally be a little ashamed of, but you’re feeling extra needy.

“I wish we could have worked on the same side of the lake,” Taehyung counters after a quick glance toward Minho’s bed. Still unmade and empty because the man in question went to go smoke on the dock. “This whole separating the camp for the kids’ sake is dumb sometimes.”

“Yeah. I wish I could’ve seen you teaching songs to the kids on the guitar.”

“I wish I could see your face while you listen to the songs I rec’d you.”

“And I wish I could see your paintings.” Taehyung turns back to see the canvas he’d filled yesterday with paint swatches, trying to remember the exact hue of your skin from the first meeting in which he knew you were you.

“I wish we could just see each other.”

“Me too.”

“And touch each other.”

Your mouth drops open wide. He’s been flirty in his own way, but never so outright.

“Oh my god, Taehyung, are you drunk?”

“I don’t drink,” he replies simply. Your cheeks feel too warm and you have to pat you face to give yourself a semblance of control.

It’s not that you haven’t entertained the idea of being intimate with Taehyung, but it was a bit difficult when you still couldn’t match a face to his name. Perhaps that was just a ‘you’-issue, but it frustrates you and, until now, kept you from getting very far with your fantasies. But with his voice in your ear that night, you think maybe you could get there. Already your skin is taking on a feverish heat, sweat starting to prick certain areas.

“What would you do if we could. H-how would you start?”

He palms himself deftly over his shorts and lets his eyes fall shut in indulgence. “Are you in bed?”

“Yes.” Your breath is bated. A hand trails down the top you’re wearing to lift the hem up, exposing the dewy skin of your torso. You pick at the elastic waistband playfully, eager to hear what Taehyung’s plans are for you.

“What are you wearing?”

It’s a benign question, but it still speeds up your heartbeat. His voice is somehow silken in its depth while tugging raggedly at something inside you.

“Um. I’m wearing a camisole and some shorts.”

He hums appreciatively. “Well, first, I’d take off your top. I’d pull the straps off and push the rest down slowly. I’d kiss your neck and your skin all over. Until I get to your breasts.”

Your fingers slide under your shorts to find the crotch of your panties. A growing wet spot greets the searching pads of your fingers. “And then what?”

“Easy, easy.” He smirks. “I’d take my time on you. I bet they’d feel so nice in my hands. Probably soft and warm. I’d put my mouth on them, lick them, suck on them. I’d pinch your nipples until they’re hard and you’re moaning.” Sure enough, a moan floats up through the speaker on Taehyung’s end. “Then I’d kiss your stomach and your hips and then I’d get your shorts off. Are you wearing panties?”

“I am, yeah.”

“Shame,” he pouts. “I’d take those off too. I’d kiss your thighs and then I’d kneel between your legs and I’d taste you. Get you all over my tongue.” His erection throbs with the image and he has to squeeze himself at the base to keep his cool. With his words momentarily halted, you jump in.

“All that sounds nice, but I think I’d like you under me more.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you on your back on the bed and I want you naked. And then I want to sit on your face. I wanna grind on your mouth for a bit and then I want to get you in my mouth too.” His breath hitches sharply in your ear. From the sound of it, he’s stroking himself slowly and leaning on and off the ‘talk’ button. “I want to feel you in my throat. I want to gag around you while I stroke you.”

Taehyung’s whines are high as he fights the urge to fuck into his hand quickly and chase the high he feels pulsing under his skin. “Are you—ngh—are you touching yourself?”

“Yes, but I wish it was you. I’ve got my fingers inside, but it’s not enough when I could have you do it. I want you to stretch me out. I wanna ride you after. I’m gonna ride you one day for real.”

“Can’t wait for that day,” he sighs, tossing his head back.

Taehyung spits into his hand to aid the glide. His hand moves quickly over his length, under the fabric of his bottoms. The slick sounds show up in the background noise of your cabin, egging you on. You bring your fingers to the apex of your lips and ghost them over your swollen clit. The first touch has so much anticipation behind it and has your back bowing off the mattress. Like a feedback loop, your moans set Taehyung’s hand in action and trigger his groans, which bring trickle after trickle of arousal down to wet your hand.

“I bet you’d feel so good. You sound so wet, god. You’d probably squeeze my dick so tight and good.”

“What would you do,” you gasp into the little radio, rolling a nipple under your satiny top. “Tell me what you’d do while I sit on your face.”

“I’d fuck you with my t-tongue. And I’d give some attention to your ass. It would probably look so good from where you’d be sitting. Bouncing on me while I fuck your mouth.”

“Fuck, Tae. I want you so bad.”

“I know,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “Add another finger for me and play with your clit with your other hand. I want to hear you come. Be loud for me.”

“I’m so close. I’m—”

As soon as you heed his instructions and add another finger, you’re able to re-angle your hand and hit a sensitive spot along your walls. The sudden onslaught of pleasure makes your volume increase by double. Taehyung’s erection jumps at the sound of your orgasm.

“Did you come?”

Your heaving breaths through the speaker are answer enough. He soldiers through, trying to catch up to you. So you help him along.

“If I were with you, I’d hold your dick right on my tongue so I can taste all of it when you come. Or maybe you want to come inside me. To fill me up and get me all sticky?”

“Fuck,” he grunts one, twice and then his mouth drops open as he spurts over his hand. The thick white of his orgasm leaks through the gaps of his fingers to make a mess. His body tenses with a few of the aftershocks before he flops bonelessly into his pillow. “I can’t feel my toes.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a while either.”

Taehyung pouts up at the top bunk. “If we were on the same side of the lake, we could have just done this in the same bed. Then at least we’d be immobile together.”

“How romantic.”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with taking a lazy day off.”

“Maybe not normally. But with the festival coming up, I don’t think we really have that choice.”

“That’s true.”

“But,” the smile is audible in your voice, coy in its sing-song tone. “The next meeting is coming up soon. And we can maybe see each other there.”

“Yeah, we can.” Sleepiness makes his eyelids heavy, but he fights it as best we can. “I wanna see you so bad. Wanna hold you.”

“We can be really brave and hug in the parking lot outside the admin building.”

“I’d swim across the lake if it meant that was the fastest way to see you.”

“Aww. You’re such a sap when you come.”

“Only for you,” he mumbles. His cheek presses into his pillow as he loses his battle against sleep.

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’ve been swamped with preparations for the festival. When you’re not busy avoiding paper cuts while designing decorations for the mess hall, you’re fighting off campers who want you to spoil the movie that the boys have chosen for the group as a whole to watch together. You go to bed at night without word from Taehyung, but you’re too tired and too familiar with the work he’s most likely doing to feel upset about it.

You’re so busy and your mind is so full that you don’t even realize that you should be looking for Taehyung when you go to sit down in the conference room. It’s only when you’re zoning out while the camp leader gets progress reports from the boys’ side that you realize you haven’t heard his voice in several days and you’re still not hearing it during the meeting. So you tap your fingers and wait for the meeting to adjourn. And as soon as it does, you make a beeline for Minho. Despite never having spoken with him directly, you’ve heard enough about him in and out of meetings to know what he looks like. Though, even if you hadn’t heard anything from your fellow counselors, you’d heard enough about him from Taehyung. If you listen carefully, you can almost hear similarities in the way that he and Taehyung talk. You suppose that’s what happens with siblings.

“Hi,” you greet him when there’s a lull in the conversation between him and some older counselor from the boys’ side.

“Hi, yourself.” Minho’s eyes widen as he registers your voice. It’s the only part of you he has direct experience with, but he has quite a lot of experience with it. He takes in your appearance with a grin, happy to finally meet the person who’s ensnared his baby brother’s affections.

“We’ve never met before, but my name is—”

“I know who you are. I hear Taehyung talk on the phone with you every night.”

“E-every night? Like even Sunday night?”

“Uhh,” his eyebrows raise at the sudden question. “No, actually. Not Sunday night. I was staying at someone else’s cabin. Why?”

“No reason. Listen, I just wanted to ask you if you knew where Tae was. I was planning on finally meeting with him face to face, but that...didn’t happen. And there’s not much time left.”

“I mean, there’s always after the summer. You both live in the city.”

You give him a non-committal noise that he doesn’t really like the sound of, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s not about to butt into his brother’s relationship just because he’s older. Even if it seems like you’re maybe not on the same page about what happens after camp ends.

“Well, he’s not pulling another fast one on you if that’s what you’re worried about. He told me not to tell you, but he got sick off bonfire weenies last night. So he’s probably still at home shitting his pants while he makes banners for the festival.”

“Thanks for that.” You blink away the image Minho’s words bring up and focus on the task at hand. “So I guess I probably won’t see him until the actual day of, then.”

“Probably. Since he’s covering the old art director’s tasks in addition to the musical stuff, he’s pretty swamped and this hot dog thing might set him back a bit. He definitely wants to see you, though.”

Minho tries his best again not to overstep and reveal too much. Not about the rampant diarrhea, but about the way Taehyung’s been scribbling frantically in notebooks for tasks that weren’t assigned to him for the fest. Nor does he tell you about the 3 a.m. guitar sessions. Or the tender way he sees Taehyung pick up the walkie talkie sometimes, holding it in his hand as thoughtfully as someone can when running on 5 hours of sleep.

(Festival Day)

“Come on, we’re gonna miss the concert!”

A camper pulls you by the wrist from the small station where face painting was being held to the center of the makeshift festival grounds where a stage has been set up.

People have been pulling you around since the wee hours of the morning. By now you’re used to just letting your body follow the person pulling you, but the slight twinge in your wrist is starting to worry you. You replace your wrist with your hand and the camper merely pulls you along harder. There’s already a large amount of campers and counselors from both sides of the lake surrounding the stage where some performances are about to take place. Somehow the 11-year-old holding your hand manages to weave you both through the bodies until you’re only a few feet from the platform.

After a juggling act done by two of your favorite campers, a lovely comedy routine where Moe roasted her ex-husband Cref, and a trio of high school yo-yo experts, the prep for the final performance begins. Apparently, Camp Lonely Heart had an anthem that all the campers learned in their music periods so they could all sing together during the final days of the summer. Since you were never present for the music sessions, you didn’t really know there was a song. Luckily for you, Jade gave you a sheet with the lyrics printed on them earlier that morning. You didn’t have any time to memorize them, but you got a good look and they seemed like pretty typical camp lyrics.

You spot Minho making his way to the front of the stage easily. He’s got a small glittery sign that says “That’s my little brother” and a few of the guys around him snicker when he waves it at the counselor and camper on stage. The words on the sign are slow to register with you, so it takes a moment for you to put two and two together to get Taehyung. But you do. And when you do, all you can hear is your own blood rushing in your ears and all you can see is him.

He’s seated with a guitar resting casually in his lap. His hair is long. Longer than you imagined it would be. It’s also lighter than you thought it would be based solely off Minho’s own dark chestnut locks. He’s handsome, though. With the honeyed skin and the large, expressive eyes behind vintage frames to offset the manly geometry of his other features. The young boy next to him on stage must say something nice or cute, because his whole face lights up. You marvel at the boxy shape of his mouth while he laughs.

In the background noise, you hear the camper, Jungkook, make a little speech about this summer and camaraderie and how long it took for him and Taehyung to prepare this original arrangement of the Camp Lonely Heart anthem you’re about to hear. But it all sort of washes in one ear and out the other. Instead you’re watching Taehyung bounce his foot with pre-show nerves and smile occasionally at what the other counselor says. Then he’s being handed the mic and he’s looking out into the audience. You lock eyes after a few beats, and he holds your gaze like he’s trying to see if you know who you’re looking at. Maybe it’s your awestruck expression. Or maybe it’s the stupid smile on your face when his voice comes through the mic and you’re hearing the voice you’ve grown to love pour through something other than shitty walkie talkie speakers. But either way, his back becomes a little straighter while he greets the crowd and tells them he hopes they like the song.

Everything after that is kind of a blur. You don’t sing along and instead watch Taehyung sing back up to Jungkook’s pretty tenor stylings. Minho was screaming when the song ended and threw some snipped sunflowers wrapped in cellophane onto the stage at Taehyung and Jungkook’s feet. In that chaotic moment of applause, you slip out the crowd after making sure Taehyung’s eyes are on you. The path you make is clear: a beeline straight behind the cabins on the trail that leads through the small foothills. With the festival going on and all the campers in one place, counselor supervision has to be tight. No campers allowed past these parts.

After giving him a few minutes to catch up, you can hear his footsteps are close behind you. The trek is short and you come up to step past the gates that open into the camp’s lavender field. It’s been a while since you last visited it, but the smell is just as fragrant and lovely as it was the first time. Your heart rate slows down slightly. Anticipation makes everything in you coil taut, full of sharp and tiny vibrations. You feel giddy. When his footsteps thud softly and finally behind you, you release your breath and turn around.

“It’s you.”

“Me,” he confirms with his palms open like an offering. An offering that you take immediately.

Your launch yourself into his open arms and he huffs as he takes the impact. The hug is tight like you’re worried he’ll turn into mist if you’re not careful. His arms are sturdy around you and he pulls you in even tighter so he can get closer. He runs the tip of his nose along your temple, revelling in the way the summer sun mingles with the scent of your soap and you. It’s a small detail but it’s exciting. Here you are, in the flesh, in all your glory. Your arms and bare legs are covered in small splatters of dried paint from the last minute changes you had to make to some of the decorations this morning. And your counselor’s t-shirt has a few rips and frays in the seams from all the wear and tear it got over the summer. The flyaways in your hair and the way you sway as you hold him are all catalogued. Even in this more life-worn state, he can’t stop looking at you.

You pull back after a long while with your heart still beating in your throat. There were so many things you planned on doing when you first met Taehyung for the first time, but now you’re overwhelmed. Perhaps it’s because, in the back of your mind, you’re worried about time. It feels very fairytale-like, the way you only managed to come face to face on a special occasion. Like a good dream that will come to an end at the beep of an alarm or a fantasy that collapses into tatters at the stroke of midnight. You try to remind yourself that you’re not in a fairytale. This is real life and you have more than midnight because you have the internet and public transportation. But is that enough? You shake the thoughts out of your head, trying to focus on the here and now because it may be all you have.

“I liked your song,” you finally say. Both his hands come up to cup your face.

“Thanks. I practiced a lot for you.”

“It paid off.”

He takes a deep breath and accepts your compliment robotically before letting his eyes flit back down to your upturned mouth. “Can I kiss you,” he sighs.

“Please.”

The kiss doesn’t actually start for quite a few moments. As soon as he has your permission, then he decides to take his time. Your eyes are nearly closed and he admires the pretty shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. Impatience scratches at your nerves, but you try to go with the flow. He tilts your head in his hands like he’s calculating the best angle to kiss you from, knowing he’s driving you crazy from the little frustrated huffs you let out. Chuckling, he ghosts his lips over yours once before fully pressing forward.

As soon as your lips move together for the first time, you both let out twin sighs. Instantly, like a choreographed dance, arms and hands move in tandem to bring each other closer. You experiment with the long hair that flirts with the back of his neck before following its path and dipping your fingers beneath the collar of his shirt. He responds with large hands spreading over the small of your back, fingertips digging in before lifting and then digging in again like a game of practicing restraint.

You press your chest to his in an effort to get closer to him and unwittingly tease him with the promise of more unexplored softness under your clothes. He opens your mouth up with his own and nudges a subtle rhythm against your tongue. You moan and he mirrors the sound earnestly.

“I don’t think we can make it to the cabins,” he mumbles against your mouth.

“That’s fine,” you lay both hands on his chest and enjoy the firmness you find before pushing him back towards the tall rows of lavender. “I don’t need a bed if you don’t.”

“You’re something else.” He pulls back then with a wet sound. His lips are slightly puffy and shiny from kissing you and you grapple with the urge to bite them. You lose the battle and he shivers at the feel of you nipping at him. “Fuck.”

Once he and you have stumbled far enough back amongst the fragrant bushes and you find a soft enough patch of flattened lavender, you lower yourself to your hands and knees. He scrambles to sit beside you before immediately pulling you back in. You straddle his waist and rest some of your weight on his thighs while you peel off your shirt and bra. His hands smooth over the curve of your side once the skin is exposed, noting the way you arch into his touch. With an inquiring look, your hands move to the fly of his cutoffs. He lays back and then lifts his hips, impressively with you still seated on his lap, to pull his bottoms down and off. You do the same with yours and return to your perch as fast as possible.

Taehyung’s fingers find the soaked center of your panties and you rock your hips against the heel of his palm when he wriggles a finger in experimentally. He lets out a low appreciative whistle at how wet you are. You get wetter still when he grinds up into your clit to get you to lose some of the control you’ve garnered since leading him to the field. The feeling forces you to lean your hands on his abdomen, fingers fisting in his shirt.

“I want you inside me,” your moan shudders with the rhythm of the little circles you gyrate onto his long fingers. “I wanna ride you like I promised.”

“Are you sure you’re ready? We have time until we need to go back for clean up.”

“I know, but I want you to fuck me a couple of times before that happens.”

“I don’t have a condom, though.”

“Are you clean?”

“Yeah...You?”

“Yes,” your mouth drops open when he scrubs at a particularly sensitive spot on your slick walls. “And I’m on the pill. If you want, we could...”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I want it,” you assure him.

He takes off his shirt while you massage your breasts and take in more of his body now that it’s on display. The long hair framing his face falls prettily in his eyes after the shirt displaced it. Once it’s off, he pulls your panties to the side to admire the crystalline sheen that coats your lower lips. You shoo his fingers out of the way and pull the fabric to a more ideal angle before lowering yourself onto his length. The skin of his erection is hot to the touch and parts your lips easily. Your hips move in stuttering pushes forward to bump your clit against the swollen head.

“Oh, fuck,” his hands fly up to comb through his bangs. “God, this—you’re so sexy.”

“You are too. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

With that, you raise up just enough to grip his length and line him up with your entrance. Instantly you realize his girth is a bit of a challenge, so you’re not as quick as you’d like when you take him in. But the slick aids things and your pelvises are snuggly slotted together after a few moments and some deep breaths. Taehyung’s hand flies to the slight bulge in your lower belly, enjoying the way he seems to fill you already.

You rest your hands on his ribcage again and get your bearings. With an efficient readjustment of your weight so you can freely work your thighs, you begin bouncing on him with no pretenses. His answering moan is louder than he clearly intended because as soon as it’s out, he bites down on his tongue. It’s clear he doesn’t want to make it obvious where you are and what you’re doing, but he’s having trouble containing himself. There’s sweat already starting to prickle under the surface of his skin and his hands feel restless just minutes into your ministrations.

Taehyung settles for muttering quiet curses and gripping your rapidly circling hips with bruising force. He can barely keep up with the pace you’ve set, but he does manage. He thrusts up to meet your every downstroke, though it’s not without an obscene slapping sound. The fact that he’s so visibly affected by your movements gets you wetter every second until he almost slips out a few times. You adjust your rhythm so that’s not a problem, but your thighs are burning with the effort. Taehyung sees through hooded eyes that you’re losing steam and seizes his chance.

You’ve opted for sitting and grinding with him inside you when he starts to shift. His arms come to envelope you and keep you steady as he sits up. Then you’re suddenly on your back. You want to protest about the dirt, but the ground looked clean and dry and doesn’t make your back itch, so you let it happen. Taehyung repositions himself among your splayed legs, hitching one up to wrap around his hip. He grabs the ankle of your other leg and lifts it slowly, testing your flexibility and giving you time to tell him where your limit is. When your ankle is hovering level with his shoulder, you give him a cheeky smirk at his wide eyed expression. He punishes your silent brag by sucking a rough hickey into the skin just above your ankle before resting it on his shoulder. The very fact that he’s pretzled you like this turns him on and gives him a slight energy boost. He figures you must have stolen some of his life force with the way you rode him earlier.

“Little succubus,” he spits through gritted teeth as he begins pistoning his hips against yours.

You let out a shameless laugh that quickly devolves into a low moan with the way the new angle feels. He’s not going to last much longer if you continue to squeeze around him like you’re doing, but he’s fairly certain you’ll finish first. Certain because his hand moves down between your bodies to tweak at one of your nipples. He noticed earlier how your eyes fogged over while you played with yourself in the same way. Leaning over, he continues to thrust into you while pulling the nipple between his teeth. He rakes over it lightly and your leg tenses before falling back down with a thud. You don’t seem to notice and instead your abdomen spasms with the waves of pleasure that begin lapping at you without ebbing back. The feeling merely builds until it explodes the moment he minutely clenches his jaw and bites. It’s a small amount of pain, but it takes you by surprise and pushes you over the edge.

With your walls milking him, he follows your high soon with his own. His breaths come out in deep huffs in your ear, heavy with bass. You test your limbs and the shifting makes you aware of the come he filled you with. When he pulls out, the sensation grows and you’re moaning weakly as it leaks out. He takes his lower lip in between his teeth as he watches the evidence his orgasm drip from your puffy center. He kind of wants to push it back in with his tongue or his fingers just to watch it drip out again, but he knows you might still be sensitive. So he settles for stroking your hip bone lovingly.

Grabby hands creep into his peripheral vision. It’s you silently asking for him to come lie with you, and he does. He presses sweet kisses against your lips until you sling a leg over his hip and add tongue. His dick twitches with the promise of second round, rubbing against the soft skin of your inner thigh. Normally, he’d need more time between orgasms. But you’re kissing his neck and for some reason the smell of your sweat combined with lavender is a miraculous pairing and has the blood flowing back south. A quick glance at his wrist watch tells him that there’s still a good 45 minutes and he flashes the little screen to you. Your answering grin is the rest of the motivation he needs.

The festival day ended two days ago. Following your rendezvous, you both smoothed out your clothes and shook the grass out of them before sneaking back into the campgrounds smelling suspiciously of lavender and ‘something else’ according to Moe. You managed to somehow avoid her keen nose just like Taehyung avoided his older brother’s wiggly eyebrows.

Clean up was an absolute bitch that night, so you both went to bed without hitting each other up. And the following day was for making sure all the campers were packed up and shipped off to town or picked up by their guardians. That was somehow more exhausting even though there wasn’t any cleaning or sweaty sex involved. It was probably the giant bonfire you had and the 40s you threw back that night with your co-counselors. It was probably the most fun you had with them in a while. You were up into the wee hours recounting all the chaos from the last week and the shenanigans that resulted from having the counselors from the other side of the lake involved. No one mentions you slipping away for over an hour, and for that you’re thankful.

But the headache you wake up with the next day has you silently cursing the whole camp. You don’t need to spend a long time packing, and you’re out of your cabin in record time. Hitching a ride with one of the other early risers, you find yourself at the admin building with plenty of time to kill until you have to walk to the nearest bus stop. There’s donuts and bagels and a basic fruit plate in the conference room and you stealthily sneak some food out while the camp leader interrogates other counselors about how they felt the summer went. You even resort to filling out your evaluation form in the hallway to avoid the camp leader’s hawk-like gaze. You’re still seated on the floor, counting the dots in the pattern on the linoleum tiles, when Taehyung’s characteristic sneakers appear in front of you.

“You going home?”

It’s an awkward question, but it technically shouldn’t be. The last moments in the lavender field were spent with you skirting around his questions about where in the city you lived and what your plans for the fall were. It seemed pointless to tell him all that and act as if you were guaranteed to be able to pick things up where they left off once camp closed for the summer. With your back turned that day, you missed the way Taehyung looked at you after struggling with the feeling of not knowing you. Despite the fact that he felt deep in his soul not more than 3 hours ago that he knew you.

Couple this with the fact that you did have down time after the festival ended, but you said you were busy when you weren’t and you end up where you are now. Suddenly uncomfortable in front of the guy you’d been opening yourself up to for months because you never really got to breach the subject of what would happen when the summer ended. Now you’re realizing these are probably your last moments with what you had with him at Camp Lonely Heart.

“My bus is coming at 2,” you say eventually. He tries one last time.

“That’s hours from now. I can...I could drive you instead. I’m going into the city anyway.”

Yes, your brain wants you to say. Take me home, and then come in and stay with me. You want to utter the words, but your tongue grows heavy and clumsy. So instead you say something stupid.

“The ticket’s non-refundable.”

“Oh.” His head lowers to stare at his own shoes. “Yeah, that’s...I get that. Money, right?”

“Yeah.” You stare down at your shoes. You fight to find a redeemable moment, something lighter to end the summer on. “Hey, uh, look what I brought when I cleaned out my cabin.”

Taehyung stares down at your seated form while you fish through your little backpack for something. He’s not sure why the moment he was dreading before officially meeting you is happening now. The rejection he was hoping to avoid by remaining a nameless, faceless voice is now slowly rearing its ugly head.

“Look!” Your voice is a bit too enthusiastic to come off as 100% genuine, but the sight of the walkie talkie that started it all does make Taehyung smile despite himself.

When he pulls out a matching device from the side pocket of his messenger bag, the uncomfortable atmosphere lifts a little. Minho shows up then, keys jingling in his pocket. He calls for Taehyung and looks at you curiously.

“Are you coming with?” Before you can explain, Taehyung answers for you.

“She can’t. She’s gotta catch the bus.”

“The bus that’s going into the city? Where we’re also headed,” Minho asks with an incredulous smile that’s got none of the usual sweetness in it.

He looks at you for a better answer, one that makes more sense, but you don’t volunteer one when suddenly put on the spot. The slump in Taehyung’s shoulders betray the weak smile on his face. To Minho, the whole situation positively reeks of a similar situation his baby brother got into when he was younger and much less careful with his heart. He’s not 100% surprised at you, though. He saw this coming in the last few days when there were no calls from you and Taehyung’s eyes lost their summer shine. Minho pins you with a look of disappointment that you feel deep in your bones before he gives you a second chance.

“Tae, can you go start up the car?”

There must be something in Minho’s voice that you miss because Taehyung surprises you by only hesitating for a second before taking the keys and turning on his heel. You can feel Minho’s eyes on your face the entire time you watch Taehyung leave, but you can’t bear to face him until he’s gone.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I just panicked when he asked if I was coming, so I said no.” He sighs in what you think is understanding, eyes closing momentarily before opening again. This time, his face is slightly more patient. He thinks he knows what’s going on.

“Do you want to ride home with us? With him?” There’s something else in the question, and you see it and grab at it, even though the implications scare you.

“I think so. I want to spend more time with him before I have to go for good. We didn’t really...talk about how this would end.”

“Does it have to end?”

“I mean, you know what they say about summer flings. Plus, this all happened in a really weird environment. Who knows if all of this was only possible because we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

“Mm, yeah. It sounds like you guys were lucky in that regard,” he crosses his arms. “But you can take luck and build on it with actual effort and make something solid.”

You open your mouth to protest, but you can’t think of anything to actually say because he’s right. So you pick up your backpack and zip it up and gesture for him to lead the way to the car. A tiny bit of prideful approval bleeds onto his otherwise grave expression. On the way to the parking lot, your mind swirls with thoughts about the ways that this thing could fall apart. About how a summer haze made everything possible or how the distance that can’t be covered by walkie talkies will be the end of you and Taehyung. You look up to catch Taehyung’s profile as he waits for Minho in the driver’s seat. You also catch the way his face goes from a flat mask of indifference to surprise to badly concealed joy at the sight of you trudging behind his older brother. He rolls down the window while Minho makes a beeline for the back seat.

“You’re coming?”

“If that’s okay.” And you do wonder. Is this okay? Can we really do this? Can we make it?

“Y-yeah, of course,” seems to be Taehyung’s answer to all your questions, even the ones unspoken.

While you make your way to the passenger’s side, Taehyung whips his head around to stare at his brother.

“What did you say to her?”

“I’m not telling you, but just know that you may owe me for life after this.”

“Alright,” Taehyung concedes as you get in and strap in for the ride.

Thanks for reading through these collab pieces with me. Plz also go check out the pieces @polaritae wrote on the masterlist link above!!

#btssmutclub #bscproject #networkbangtan #95line.net #kimtaehyung.net #bangtan bookclub #bttnetwork #btswriters #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #taehyung scenarios #taehyung imagine #taehyung fanfic

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doctorgerth · 5 years

Text

Prompt Winner #3

Prompt: “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Description: Being a Straw Hat, you don’t really get to see Law as often as you’d like due to his own personal missions. When the Heart Pirates show up one day and a party ensues, you and Law sneak off to have a little party of your own. (fem s/o)

Rating: 100% Law smut, with a hint of fluff and angst

Warnings: cursing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex

Note: This is uhh pretty filthy lmao and also really long as I got a bit carried away..... I completely understand if you want to skip to the sinful parts! No shame here. NSFW begins under the cut.

Body Party (Law)

NSFW

Prompt Story

(Word count: 5509)

"Look everyone, it's Torao!" Luffy beamed with an ear-to-ear grin as he ran to the head of the Sunny to greet his friend (first) and ally (second). Your heart skipped a beat at the familiar, rather endearing nickname your captain would use to call Law. You weren't supposed to see him for a few more days now, why the sudden appearance?

Nevertheless, that curious question couldn't stop your feet from trailing right behind Luffy as you trotted in excitement, eager to see if it was really him or this was all a dream. The bright yellow of the Polar Tang glistened under the sun, bobbing against the turquoise waves. Up on board were a few familiar faces, Shachi, Penguin, Ikkaku, Jean Bart, and Bepo. All were standing proudly, the rest of the crew following in tow, and your heart beamed seeing such wonderful friends again after so long.

Your eyes wandered, practically straining against the sun as you searched for the infamous dark haired, tattooed man. The anticipation was killing you! The impatience and eagerness to just see him again, no longer relying on his bounty poster for company, was keeping your body on the verge of explosion. Where was Law?

"Looking for me?" A voice whispered just behind your ear, immediately sending chills down your spine. It was a bit embarrassing, but you could feel the dampness of your panties already. Your heart threatened to break out of its cage at the lull of his voice, sounding more suggestive than you were sure he intended. Nevertheless, the tension was real and you were hot for him already.

Before you could even turn around to greet your lover, Luffy had already tackled Law to the ground, Chopper joining in, in a back-breaking hug.

"We missed you, Torao! Welcome back!" Luffy's infamous shishishi graced your ears and though Law definitely looked annoyed, the fact that he wasn't putting forth much effort to remove Luffy from his neck showed that he was at least a little happy to be back.

The rest of your crew joined, some waving at the Heart Pirates in greeting, some asking Law how his mission went. You stood against the railing, eyes threatening to tear up as you smiled at this heartfelt reunion. To have two of the most important groups in your life around you at once, you couldn't ask for anything more. But as much as you loved this reunion, the only thing that could make this better was a personal reunion between you and Law.

He seemed to notice you lost in thought and as your eyes met, the feelings of sheer anxiousness and need, reminiscent of when you first caught feelings for this man, pooled your stomach and shook the lower half of your body. He offered you a smirk as the people around him kept talking and for a moment, it felt like it was you two again. Everything disappeared in an instant as you offered each other welcoming smiles, but you were already tired of the distance between the two of you. He was right there, you just needed to touch him, feel his fingers on your skin, even if for just a moment.

It was to no one's surprise that Luffy called up a party between the allied pirate groups, no one could possibly reject the idea. Sanji immediately went to the kitchen to prepare food and drinks for everyone, Zoro very hesitantly started sharing his alcohol with some Heart Pirates, and Brook whipped out his violin to play some tunes. The party was already fully alive within minutes, the mingling of Heart Pirates and Straw Hats was an endearing sight.

Your eyes kept finding Law's among the crowd and he captured yours every time you found him, as if he was watching your every move. There was always someone between you two, other people begging to have each of your attentions, but your mind was only ever on Law and he seemed to display the same struggle with you. Your legs grew weaker with every suggestive look he shot your way, the two of you visibly getting needier by the second. Yet, he was making no effort to get you alone. You understood, because people would surely be questioning where you two ran off to, but you couldn't hide the disappointment you felt. Did he not miss you? Even a little?

You decided to tease him a bit, maybe pushing his buttons would garner the attention you so desired. Anything was better than shamelessly eye-fucking each other from across the ship. You needed contact and you weren't sure you could last much longer in his presence before needing to go relieve yourself, like you had been doing the past few months during his absence. You'd much prefer he help you out, but your patience was beginning to wear thin.

Ikkaku offered you a drink and you took it with grace, instantly bringing the cool champagne glass to your lips, making sure to take the drink nice and slow. Law watched with hazy eyes as you drank, wishing he was against your lips. He'd never been so jealous over an inanimate object before and he knew exactly what you were doing to him. It's not that he hated it, you were just making it damn near impossible for him to control himself! How dare you make him so flustered in front of your respective crews.

Your body could feel his eyes burning passionate holes into your body as he watched you with need, you had him right where you wanted him. You decided to turn up the heat by reaching for you hair, pulling at the pins and ribbons that kept it tied up in a bun. With a few pulls, you hair cascaded down onto your shoulders. Hooded eyes were what you offered Law this time as you shook at your hair, loving the way it felt down. Even from this distance, you could see the flush creeping along his neck and cheeks. You smiled at him suggestively before turning your attention back onto Ikkaku, allowing the burning desire to settle into his system.

There was a brief time when Ikkaku left you to go retrieve another drink for herself. You were left alone for a moment, watching as everyone talked and danced and drank amongst each other on the ship. It had been a few minutes since you had seen Law, so naturally your eyes scanned the crowd for his tall figure, but to your dismay, he seemed to be nowhere in sight. You double checked every area you could on the ship, trying to look casual as you searched for him everywhere, but there was no Law visible on the ship.

You huffed to yourself, you would think he would be begging to see you after all this time apart, but he hadn't even so much as hugged you since his return! You were definitely gonna give him an ear full when you got a chance to speak to him.

But your thoughts dispersed quickly as in a flash, you suddenly found yourself pinned harshly against cold walls you weren't too familiar with at first. Your eyes took some time to adjust to the stark white light and you realized you were in Law's room on the Polar Tang, the doctor himself pinning your arms above your head with a devilish smirk on his lips.

Your breath finally caught up to you as you looked up to your lover. Suddenly, tears swelled up in your eyes and you couldn't stop the dam from breaking as you cried his name, "Oh, Law..."

Surprised by your sudden burst of emotions, he released your wrists from his rough grasp, pulling you into his arms in a tight embrace. Your body shook from the strangled tears you were holding back, but your body instantly melded into his as he held you close, a free hand petting the back of your head.

"It's okay. I'm here." He cooed into your hair, feeling instant regret for not offering you his loving embrace sooner. He was rather shy with public affection, so he was just waiting for the right time to get you alone. He admittedly should have done so sooner, but all that mattered was that he had you now.

"I missed you so much." You whispered as your grip tightened into his black coat. You pulled his body into you, begging to have him closer as if it were even possible. He was here, tangible, right under your finger tips; you finally had him all to yourself, the sounds from the lively party barely a low mumble in your ears.

He pulled away only to look at you, a hint of sorrow in his eyes. His fingers placed themselves under the base of your chin, pulling you up to his lips, "Let me show you just how much I missed you, (Name)-ya." He whispered, his warm breath fanning your lips, sending desire-filled shivers down your entire body at the way your name rolled off his tongue.

This was what you wanted for so long, the feeling to be one with Law again was a need aching in your body since the last time you were connected. You had to manage yourself while he was away, but now he was here, able to fulfill all your desires. You wasted no time in connecting your lips with his, a satisfied moan escaping into the warmth of his open mouth. You remembered the last kiss you had, it was hesitant, dismal, a pitiful goodbye kiss. This one, this welcoming kiss, was what you dreamed of, warm, sensual, and desperate. You were an absolute fool to think Law hadn't missed you all this time.

His body pushed yours against the wall once more, your kissing now sloppy and hungry as his lips devoured yours. He wanted to make this special for your sake, but after missing you for so long and that relentless teasing you were shamelessly offering earlier, he wasn't able to control his carnal desires. He wanted to show you just what you do to him, he wanted you to know how torturous it was for him to be without you.

Your arms were pinned above you again as he continued ravaging you. His knee wedged itself between your thighs, forcing them to spread apart. You easily complied, offering an open invitation for his hips to settle between yours. The strain of his hardening member against his jeans was becoming agonizingly painful as he'd been dealing with it practically all night.

His lips left yours for a moment, instantly trailing down to attack your neck with harsh bites and licks. Meanwhile, his hips found themselves eagerly grinding against your core, begging for friction, "Look at what you do to me. Can you see what four long months without you has done to me?” Law left biting kisses down the length of your neck, his moans muffled against your skin as it felt so good for him to rock into you once again, even if fully clothed, “Shame on you for making me so weak in front of our crews. You're gonna pay for your teasing."

You could only hum in delight as he continued his ministrations along your collar bones. You weren't scared of what he would do to you, in fact, you would accept his punishments graciously. Your thoughts were racing with bliss as his lips had never felt so good on your skin before. His free hand roamed your body and you felt as if your skin ignited with his every touch, your head was spinning from the heat and lust pooling within you.

He released your wrists in order to free you from the tight confines of your shirt. Your breasts spilled out shamelessly, and for an instant, you felt your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment at being revealed to him. The shyness easily left you however, as Law was quick to grab at your breasts with his tattooed hands, burying his face between the mounds. His calloused palms against your sensitive, perked nipples sent you reeling, head falling back against the wall with a rather loud thud as his fingers, lips, teeth, and tongue explored your territory.

"Oh, I've missed these." He muttered contently, taking your left nipple into his mouth. He moaned in pleasure at having your beautiful breast between his teeth once again, a fantasy he replayed over and over again in his head during his time away. The satisfied moans you offered him made his heart pound in his chest; he's been dying to hear these noises from you again and he was only aching to hear more.

A curious finger trailed along the smooth skin of your thigh, you hadn't even noticed at first due to your body weakening from his loving attention on your breasts. That was until the finger found its way along the outlines of your shorts, trailing along the hems and fabric, tauntingly circling around your most desperate area. Your hips wiggled against his touch and he chuckled in response, releasing you from his mouth with a slick pop.

As much as he wanted to plunge his fingers deep into your aching cunt, he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. He knew he wouldn't last long if he just gave himself to you right now. His body was aching for release, but he wanted to take his time in ravishing your body until you were both exhausted from pleasure.

"Such a needy girl, you think you can just have your way right now? Not a chance, I told you that you were gonna pay for being so cruel to me earlier.” Law retreated from your heated body, and you instantly felt cold, hands almost reaching out to pull him back into you, “It's time for your punishment, my love. Get on your knees. Now." A lone finger pointed downwards as a visual command and you couldn't hide the smirk that fell upon your lips at his orders. He always loved to take advantage of your submissiveness.

You dropped slowly onto your knees for him, fiddling with his belt and zipper once your knees touched the floor. Law helped you slightly in the undressing process, but he was too enamored in watching you undress him yourself. You shimmied his pants down to his ankles, not realizing Law had kicked off his boots already. He stepped out from his pants and watched as you gawked at the tent in his underwear. Your mouth seemed to water as you pulled down the bands of his underwear, his hardened cock spring forth, grazing against the tip of your nose. There it was, the cock you knew and loved so well. The cock that has rocked your body countless times before and was sure to leave you writhing in pleasure by the end of the night. Those thoughts were enough to leave you practically dripping in your underwear.

Your hands went to grab at it with eagerness, but his own tattooed hands swatted your nimble fingers away, "Behind your back." He stated, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. You eyed him curiously, but complied with crossing your wrists and keeping them behind you. Normally he would secure your wrists with a tie or his belt, but perhaps he wanted to test you.

"Good girl, now open wide." He smirked, bringing his leaking tip to your lips, circling them for just a second, before he eased his cock into your mouth. Your mouth adjusted accordingly as he never ceased his penetration. He guided his dick further and further, brushing past your gag reflexes down your throat. A low guttural groan escaped his throat and his body shuddered at having himself sheathed so far inside you. Your warm, soaked mouth a perfect home for his needy manhood.

Tears stung your eyes at having your mouth so full of him. You gagged once or twice, but Law would be a liar if he said he didn't find the feeling absolutely tantalizing. He stayed still for a moment, and though it was a bit uncomfortable for you, you were content with the look of pure pleasure on his face. His hand went to cup the back of your head for support, tangling in your hair in the process, as he began to unsheathe his cock from your mouth, only to fill you up again; reveling in the beyond pleasurable feeling each time.

He found a steady pace, practically holding your head steady for his own use, but you incorporated your tongue work in the midst of him face-fucking you and he loved every second of it, "You still know how to suck me so good, (Name)-ya...so good..."

All conscious thoughts were becoming a blur in his head as he was driven mad with carnal desires while his cock pumped in and out of you. Your warm cavern and skilled tongue were working him to the edge, sending satisfying jolts through every inch of his body. He hadn't noticed for a second that your hands were shamelessly rubbing at his thighs, so when he finally realized, he pulled on your hair harshly, your low moans vibrating his dick in response.

"Are you trying to disobey me, (Name)-ya? I don't think you want that."

But you do, you thought to yourself. When you offered him a challenging look paired with rather lecherous eyes, he gritted his teeth, unable to contain himself any longer. He gripped your head with both hands and began relentlessly pounding his cock into your gasping mouth. You gagged so many times at his harsh fucking but you took every single thrust with pride, loving the feeling of choking on his dick. Law loved the feeling too, perhaps a little too much as his thrusting became sloppy and he felt the impending release tightening in his lower body.

"Hold still and you better swallow every last drop." He commanded, as if you were even daring to move in the first place, while he held you steady and you were eager to have your lover reach his peak. With a few more thrusts, Law came with three slow pumps, his thick cum already trailing down the back of your throat, "Fuck."

He pulled out of your mouth, pulling you up to your feet and kissing your cum and saliva soaked lips without hesitation. Your mouth was aching from his rough session, but his soft, intimate lips offered you comfort as he kissed you with utmost desire.

"On the bed, now. Get out of those shorts and spread those beautiful legs for me." He pushed you in the direction of the bed and you waltzed over with shaky legs. The excitement of what was to come next was hardly containable. You removed your shorts and soaked underwear quickly while Law cleaned the rest of himself off with a spare shirt. Your back fell against the mattress, spreading your legs in slight nervousness for him. The time it took for Law to turn around was long enough to make you anxious, you almost snapped your thighs shut out of embarrassment.

But when he turned around, the way he bit his lip to suppress the filthy words he wanted to spill seemed to garner you confidence as you only spread your legs further for his hungry eyes. He strode over to you, a hand loosely pumping his already hardening cock, lewd seduction heavy in his golden eyes. Having you sprawled out on his bed, legs spread wide open, pussy glistening with desire for him, Law could never get enough of that sight.

"So gorgeous..." He muttered to himself as he made his way to the bed. Before you could respond, he pulled you by the hips onto the edge of the bed, now dropping onto his knees for you, "I suppose you deserve some kind of reward for taking my cock so well earlier. Be a good girl and let me ravish you."

You didn't have to think twice about his offer as you placed your legs on his shoulders as confirmation. Your cunt was wide open and ready for his hungry lips, quivering right in front of his eyes. He marveled at the sight, a bit shocked at how bold you've become, but he knew you were just desperate after all this time spent apart; he was more than willing to finally satisfy you.

He placed tender kisses along your thighs, loving the way your body jolted with each touch. You were so sensitive and you bet your ass he was going to take full advantage of that. His kisses trailed down to your pubice, leaving soft, feather-like kisses there as well. Law was a grade A tease, and though usually you enjoyed it, right now you were becoming a bit frustrated! Your pussy has been craving his touch for months, and now he's decided to tease you?

That one curious finger from earlier made way to your core again, this time trailing the skin around every area desiring to be touched. His eyes were glued to your soaked core, just mesmerized by you for a moment, "After all this time, you're still so wet for me." His voice was barely above a whisper as he said this, "Let's see if you still taste so sweet."

Finally, finally, his tongue placed a curious lick against the whole outer area of your core, tongue pressing flat against it in a long, slick swipe. Your body rocked at the sensation, it was just too good, indescribable; and you needed so much more of it. Your fingers instantly tangled in his hair as his tongue continued swiping, as if he was learning every inch of your body all over again, but you both knew better. Law knew every inch of your body already.

His tongue made way between your folds, experimentally creeping inside your core, exploring the depths of your caverns. You accidentally forced his face deeper into you out of instinct, tongue fully sheathed inside you now and Law moaned in response. Law definitely preferred to dominate you, but he couldn't deny how he equally loved the way you took control of his face while he ate you out. The way you were so desperate for his lips and tongue always sent him reeling.

"Fuck, Law!" You yelped in pleasure as his tongue prodded in and out of you with haste, and he only went faster so he could hear more of your whining of his name. Your legs were trembling on his shoulders now, body shaking from the pleasure he was giving you from his tongue work. He pulled out of you and instantly swiped up to your swollen clit, taking it between his lips. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he played with your sensitive button, circling and sucking on it as if a snack. Your back arched as he plunged his digit deep within you, never ceasing his affection on your clit.

The sloshing sound of your juices should've embarrassed you, but nothing coherent could breach your thoughts as you were only focused on the absolute satisfaction Law was providing you; eating you out and fingering you to his heart's content. Your mewls filled his ears, way better than any party music in his opinion, and he only hastened himself to bring you right to the edge. You've been craving release and he was bound and determined to give it to you.

With swiftness he added another finger into you, tongue still working at your clit, pounding relentlessly into your soaked core. Your walls were beginning to tighten around him and he knew you were close, so he took this opportunity to shove yet another finger inside you, having your body thrashing underneath him.

"Law, oh my- fuck! Yes, yes, yes, keep going, please."

You didn't have to tell him twice. He smirked a little while he continued his work on your core, fingers curling inside you with each pump. Your body was completely flushed, sweat trailing down your neck as your body prepared you for what was to come. Your toes curled and uncurled at a rapid rate, the tightness in your legs trailing up and up as you felt the knot in your abdomen threatening to break. Law took one last swipe of your clit, fingers continuing their rough speed as he looked up at you, "Cum for me, (Name)-ya. Let it all go."

You couldn't hold back as his words seemed to unfurl the knot in your body, a wail of pleasure escaping you. Your juices spilled forth while your body rocked as you rode out your orgasm. Tingles littered your being as you became weightless for a second, escaping off into ecstasy as you came down from your high. Law moaned in delight, lapping up every bit of your cum from your core, leaving his fingers soaked for you to taste. He rose to his feet while you laid there exhausted, limp, but he was nowhere near through with you.

Your eyes were shut from bliss until you felt his slick fingers outline your lips. He smiled at your tired eyes and the way you lazily opened your mouth to suck his fingers clean, "Still delicious."

You giggled lightly in response, opening your eyes to look at your love, completely enamored with how satisfied he makes you feel, "I love you so much, Law."

His smile grew slightly bigger as he nodded, "I know, and I love you, (Name)-ya. But we're not done yet."

With that, you retreated backwards onto the bed while Law crawled over your body, pumping at his dick once again, though he was rock hard after seeing you come undone for him. His lips made way to yours again, this time passionate and slow. The lustful feelings subsiding for a moment as he came to realize just how much he truly missed you. Your touch, your smell, your smile, your laugh, everything about you; going four months without his favorite person was one of the most difficult things he's ever had to experience.

"I don't ever want to leave you again." He whispered in a hushed tone, forehead resting against yours.

You smiled up at him, pulling him closer by the neck, "Then don't."

His lips curled upwards as he plastered you with kisses once more, you were a moaning mess under him as his tip circled around your sensitive area. He was driving you mad yet again, but with his slow kissing, he showed no sign of entering you any time soon. You bit down on his lip and he shivered for a second, confused by your roughness. He pulled away to look at you, curious.

"Fuck me like you mean it, Trafalgar. Show me how much you missed me. I need you inside me."

His mouth peeled into a shit-eating grin at your words, completely satisfied and utterly surprised at your command, "When did you gain such a filthy mouth, (Name)-ya? Don't tell me you were offering this pussy, my pussy, to some brute while I was away?"

"This pussy is only for you, Law, and it needs you now. Please!" You begged and though Law wanted to deny you your satisfaction just a little while longer, he complied.

With a slow push, he eased himself inside you, the both of you moaning and hissing in bliss at finally becoming one after so long. Your walls were so deliciously tight around his cock, his eyes screwed shut tight as he focused on anything but cumming inside you right here and now. His cock filled you up unlike anything else and you took it with ease as your walls were still so slick from his affections earlier. Though it had been four months since you two were last connected like this, your pussy took him astonishingly well, as if you two were made for each other.

"Fuck, did you get tighter while I was away? You feel so fucking good." Law admitted through gritted teeth as he continued pushing deeper and deeper inside. You could only moan in pleasure and grip at the sheets until your knuckles turned white. You were so full, so content, it was as if Law was everywhere around you at one time, your world completely enraptured by his presence. Your back arched, causing your chests to collide, Law couldn't even revel in the feeling of your breasts against his bare chest as he was so focused on filling you up completely.

At last, his tip reached the end, his cock fully sheathed inside you. Your body shook with every twitch of Law's member, and after you fully adjusted to his length, you pulled him down towards you in a heated kiss, a reaffirming signal for him to move. Law remembered your words, your command for him to fuck you like he meant it, so he was bound to give you exactly what you wanted.

As he withdrew from you, your body winced and whined at the loss of contact, but your moans were soon filling his open, eager mouth as he pounded back into you with a force you were unfamiliar with. It was quick and powerful, a bit different from his usually slow, painfully teasing pace. It typically took Law a bit of a warm up before he was roughly bucking into you, but amidst the unbearable sexual frustration and the loving desire he had for you, Law could no longer control himself. That's how he found himself drilling you into the mattress within seconds, your nails digging crescent marks into the skin of his shoulders at his surprisingly rough and desperate thrusting.

"Mmmm...fuck, yes, fuck me just like that, Law!" You pleaded, not even slightly embarrassed by your new found courage of dirty talk. You could care less what spilled from your mouth as your body bounced into the mattress at his relentless pace. It still wasn't very fast, but his thrusts were rocking you each time, sending waves of pleasure throughout your entire body every time his hips snapped into yours with eagerness.

He only groaned pleasurably in response, finding it a bit difficult to respond coherently as your tight cunt gripped his dick so well each time he entered you. His thrusts only became rougher, your screams of pleasure only edging him on to pound into you harsher. He wanted you to feel every bit of his love for you, trying desperately to make up for lost time.

Suddenly, he gripped your calves to throw them over his shoulders, now hitting you at an angle that had you trembling in rapture. Your legs squeezed around him so beautifully as he raked his nails against them, hitting that special spot of yours he knew all too well. Loving kisses and bites were littered against your delicate skin, bringing you closer and closer to an edge only he could ever bring you to.

Your hands flung to his chest, fingers searching desperately for something to hold onto, but you made do with clawing at the tattoo on his torso. His pace quickened while his thrusts remained brutal, surely leaving you bruised in consequence. He couldn't stop himself from digging into your thighs as your walls only grew tighter around him, signalling your imminent release.

"L-law, I'm...close...just right there." You stated between heavy breathing, the knot returning yet again in your abdomen.

His hands found yours among your sweaty, tangled bodies, and he linked his fingers with yours, "Me too." he muttered with a strangled moan, bringing your interlocked hands up to his lips in order to place a loving kiss against the top of your hand.

The collision of hips, the sloshing of your wet pussy, and your sweet wails of his name were bringing him right to that same edge. He tried desperately to suppress the need for release just a little while longer, but the moment your walls clamped around him and you came all over his cock, he knew he was destined to follow soon after. Your legs laid heavy on his shoulders as your body spasmed, sensitive against his ever-thrusting cock. You laid still, coming down from your high as he continued his powerful fucking, chasing after his own high.

Law looked down to see his cum soaked cock easing in and out of you, and after a couple more thrusts he held your hips in place in order to release every bit of himself deep inside of you. Your body jolted at the feeling of his warm seed filling you up, you couldn't help but moan his name sweetly one last time, putting a tired, but content smile on Law's face.

You offered him a lazy smile in return, placing your hand against his cheek in an admiring manner. He eased into your touch, completely enamored with your post-sex face, all disheveled and flustered; absolutely stunning in his eyes.

"Should we go back to the party?" You whispered, definitely noticing the slight twitches of his cock, which was still buried inside you.

Law pretended to look away in thought, but amongst the sultry look in his eyes, you knew exactly what he was thinking, "Our party is far better. I think it’s time for the after party." Before you could ever respond, Law sealed his lips against yours, eager hands roaming along the curves of your body once again.

#one piece #follower event special #follower event 2 #follower event #prompt winner #prompt story #prompt #filthy #filth #extra sin #heavily sinful #sinful #sin #trafalgar law #law #reader insert

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