#loved it as a kid and replayed it last summer

[wlntrsldler]

THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

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Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again.

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

There was a bite in the air, as there always was when the summer began to fade and fall began to creep up at Camp Half-Blood. It happened every year, at least for the past three years you've called Camp Half-Blood your home.

Luke sat beside you on the hard, dirt floor, looking up at the green of Thalia's pine tree. The summer campers knew of her legend, but it was the year-rounders like you and Luke who understood her sacrifice best. There was a feeling of guilt and gratitude that engulfed all of you, like the protection Thalia blanketed over the campgrounds. You were thankful that demigods had a place to feel safe, but it came at the cost of a life. Thalia should be here.

"Of course she knew," Luke replied, unconsciously yanking out the blades of grass that flourished between the cracks in the floor. "She's your sister."

"Yeah, but do you think she knew I chose to love her?" You clarified, turning your head to face him. You did this every year, you and Luke at the foot of Thalia's tree once the summer campers all left for the year. “I mean yeah, I had to love her because she’s my sister, but do you think she knows that I would’ve chosen to love her even if she wasn’t? I feel like I never told her that. We always fought.” 

Each year you studied Luke and noted the things that were different. He's older now. His arms were more defined, muscles beginning to form on his otherwise lanky frame. He'd grown taller in the last few months and his body was adjusting to his new height. The pants he wore all of last summer were discarded a few months ago. They stopped short on his ankles and Luke decided that it was time to let them go. 

Another bead was added to his necklace, three wooden beads clanking against each other, just like yours, when he moved his body too quickly. A new bracelet adorned his wrist given to him by a young girl in the Hermes cabin before she left to go back to Virginia for the year. Luke had a collection of bracelets stashed in his bedside drawer. It was a reminder of all the demigods he wanted to protect. Some became painful reminders of the ones he couldn't.

Luke pursed his lips, "Sisters fight. I don't think she took it personally."

Each year you studied Luke and treasured the things that stayed the same. He still had the same smile as he always did, bringing you back to when you and Thalia first met him all those years ago– just three kids fighting for your lives all on your own. You and Luke were the same age, him only your senior by a few weeks, but he took the protector role seriously. Luke was your safe place before Camp Half-Blood. 

His curls were the same, especially in the mornings when he first gets out of bed; all wild and unruly, just like how he is when he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people say it's because he's the son of Hermes so mischief ran through his veins, but there was nothing about Luke that mirrored his father. He was too good to be like the gods.

"I just wish my last words to her weren't that," You uttered, a bitter taste in your mouth as you replayed your last conversation with Thalia. In the final stretch of your journey to Camp Half-Blood, you and Thalia got into an argument. In hindsight, it was petty, a disagreement that any older and younger sister would have, but it felt big at the moment. You didn't speak to her for two days. And then, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding light, and suddenly, your little sister vanished.

You don't even remember what the fight was about anymore.

"You need to forgive yourself," He said, flicking away the blades of grass he had in between his fingertips, "This wasn’t on you."

He said this every year, yet it never felt rehearsed. It always felt genuine when Luke said it. You wondered if he got annoyed at how you brought this up each year, this never-ending feeling of guilt that you didn't turn around to see if Thalia was behind you, that you couldn't protect your little sister, but Luke was patient with you. If it bothered him that you thought about it often, he didn't show it.

"Sometimes it feels like it is," You whispered, watching a singular pine fall from a branch. You like to think that Thalia did these things to let you know that she's listening. "Our dad hasn't talked to me since."

Luke clenched his jaw, wiping his hand on the fabric of his cargo pants. His warm palm took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, "You're better off."

"Maybe."

"You are," He said, clearing his throat. His chest felt heavy as he spoke. "I have to tell you something."

You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers together. Holding Luke's hand always felt right, even when you were fourteen and he had to drag you away to safety from the monsters who were out to get you; even when you were fifteen being woken up by the nightmares caused by the empty Zeus cabin, a chilling reminder that your sister was supposed to be there; even when you were sixteen and began to take on more responsibilities at camp despite your protests. "What is it, Luke?"

"I have a quest," He admitted. He'd been keeping this from you for days. He was meant to embark on this journey today, but he pleaded with his father to give him until tomorrow to begin. He knew the day the summer campers left was hard on you. 

Your stomach dropped. Luke had been waiting for a quest from his father for years. You watched him fall into a pit of despair every time a camper who'd been at camp for a shorter period of time got a quest and returned with the glory of the strongest and bravest champions. You knew Luke wanted the opportunity to prove himself to his father. This quest was it, but it didn't mean that you were enthusiastic about the idea. "When do you leave?"

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

"No," You said, then paused. You thought about it. Luke let you think in silence, rubbing his thumb along your skin. "Yes, but I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it."

"Say the word and I will, you know that," Luke rebutted, staring at you now. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Luke," You sighed, "You can't deny the gods."

"For you, I'd try to." Sometimes Luke said things that worried you. You'd always been told that your allegiance should be to the gods, your parents. Sometimes you felt differently, but you never said it out loud, but Luke had no problem doing it. He made it clear that his allegiance was to the people he loved, to you. 

"You should go," You said, ignoring the shake in your voice. It was tempting to tell him to stay; Tell him to be content to live a quiet life in the safety of these grounds, to be content with the glory he received from being the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, as the best swordsman at camp. But Luke craved more to life than this, you knew that. He needed more than another notch on his belt from Capture the Flag. He deserved more. He deserved a father who cared about him. Maybe this quest is the key to giving him exactly what he needed. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The lie burned your tongue. While some demigods returned victorious, some never returned at all. The thought of it made a chill run down your spine. It made Luke flinch.

He wrapped his arms around you. The position was awkward, but neither of you cared. When you were younger, his curls tickled the side of your cheek when you hugged him. You used to be able to look him in the eye back when you were the same height. You used to be able to memorize the features on his face; the crinkles by the side of his eyes that would appear when he'd smile, eyelashes brushing against the stray hairs of his eyebrows; full cheeks dusted with the faintest shade of pink from the beating sun or the wind chills; a crease under his lips that cast a shadow on his chin.

Now that you're older, his curls fell against your temple when he held you like this. His face was thinner, jaw more defined and cheeks hollow, like his youth was being drained from him each year. But his heart remained the same. A steady thump against your own, a beat that became synonymous with home. 

“I feel like this is a test,” He murmured, shaking as he spoke. He’ll blame it on the wind if you asked, but he knows that his words would fall flat. You always did know when things felt wrong with him. Sometimes he thought that you knew him better than he knew himself. Luke licked his lips, “Like he’s expecting me to fail and prove what he’s known all along.” 

“You always tell me that I’m more than what the gods think of me,” You said, looking up at him. Luke was staring at the sky, jaw rigid as he fought back the tears. There were only a handful of things that made Luke emotional– talking about his father was one of them. He used to cry when he talked about May, too, but now when someone asks about his mother, his tone turns robotic. He recited her fate like a broken record, waiting for the inevitable looks of pity from the onlookers. You brushed your thumb along his jaw, “Luke?” 

“Hm?” His eyes darted to yours, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he studied your features. Luke always knew you were beautiful, but sometimes when he was this close to you, it knocked the breath out of his lungs for a moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real. 

“You always tell me that I’m more than what they make me out to be,” You repeated, holding his face in the palm of your hand, “And yet you never believe it for yourself.” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d called him out on his hypocrisy more times than he could count. You were right, though. He did always tell you that the opinions of the gods didn’t matter, not when they didn’t know you like he knew you, not when they were too preoccupied in their own world to realize that you were the greatest thing they created. 

“You are more than what your father thinks.” 

He wanted to believe you, he really did, but all his life he’d been told that he was destined for something great. And yet the things he’d been able to accomplish so far seem so miniscule, irrelevant, in the context of the gods. He craved more. 

When Luke was a child, May Castellan used to mumble the same phrase over and over again. He didn’t think much of it then, nothing that his mother said usually made any sense to his nine-year-old self anyway, but the more time he spent at Camp Half-Blood, the clearer her words became. Luke was destined for something, it’s in the cards, it’s in the hands of fate. This quest might be it, the first step to reaching eternal glory. 

There are times though, during moments like this, with you beside him, when he thinks that he’ll be fine not reaching eternal glory. He can live out his life happily with just this; you and him at the foot of Thalia’s tree, with you telling him he’s more than what the gods want him to be. After all, he’d give up eternal glory if it meant being with you. 

“You’re gonna be okay without me around?” He teased. For years, it had always been you and Luke. It was a type of co-dependence that made Chiron and Mr. D's eyebrows raise. They found it dangerous. You overheard them talking in the Big House about it once, how unnatural it was for two demigods to choose each other despite the dangers of it. You joked that it was a trauma bond of sorts, but you and Luke both knew that it was more than that. Neither of you said it out loud, though, both too scared to ruin whatever this was.

“No, probably not,” You confessed. Your words took him by surprise. He was expecting you to join his teasing, but he found no trace of banter in your tone. You bit your bottom lip, “But you’re gonna come back, so I’ll be okay. I need to be okay with you being gone. I can’t expect things to always stay the same.” 

Luke couldn’t help but frown at your words. He knew you were right like you always were, but he didn’t like the idea of things changing. So much in his life moved with the tides, and up until he met you, he was fine with it. But the idea of the two of you changing, the idea of one day not having this, not having you, well, Luke didn’t think he could stomach the idea. His lips hovered over the crown of your head, almost touching you but not quite, “Not us, though. It will always be us.” 

Luke didn’t know what he was destined to do, what prophecy the gods and the Fates had in store for him, but the only thing he was sure of was you. And that was never going to change if he could help it.

[oldsoul007]

FwB

nicholas chavez x childhood bestfriend!reader

warning: kissing

Me and Nicholas had been inseparable since we were kids. Growing up in the same neighborhood, we shared countless adventures, secrets, and dreams. Our bond was unbreakable, and as we grew older, our friendship evolved into something deeper.

One summer evening, after a long day of reminiscing and laughter, we found themselves in a moment of vulnerability. The lines between friendship and something more began to blur, and we became friends with benefits. It was an unspoken agreement, a way to explore our feelings without risking their cherished friendship. No strings attached.

Nicholas, however, began to realize that his feelings for y/n were far more profound than he had ever admitted to himself.

One night as I finally finished up some work I get a text from Nicholas saying he’s coming over. Which initially means he needs to blow off some steam. I hear the knock at the door and open it up to Nicholas pulling me in for a heated kiss. He pushes me farther into my apartment kicking the door closed. We continue walking back him taking my shirt off as we reach my room. He kisses down my neck sending shivers down my spine. “God I love you” Nicholas groans as he continues kissing down my neck.

I blank for a moment checking if I just heard what I think I did. “What” “I love you” he repeats. “Nicholas” I say trying to get him to stop even though I didn’t want to. “Nicholas stop” he stops immediately looking up at me. “What’s wrong?” “We promised…we promised no strings attached Nic…” I say not daring to look him in the eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Nicholas confessed, "I love you, y/n. You can’t deny you don’t feel the same way. I know we've always been best friends, and I cherish that more than anything. But my feelings have grown into something much deeper. I can't keep pretending that I'm okay with just being friends with benefits. I want more. I want us to be together, truly together. I can't keep pretending that this is just casual for me."

My eyes widened, and i shook my head. "Nicholas, we agreed this was just for fun. I can't—"

"Why not?" Nicholas interrupted, frustration evident in his tone. "Why can't you let me love you? Why are you so afraid of this?"

I looked away, struggling to find the right words. "It's not that simple. I'm just not ready for that kind of commitment."

Nicholas stood up, pacing the room. "I don't understand, y/n. We've been so close, shared so much. Why can't you see that we could be amazing together?"

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I'm scared, Nicholas. I'm scared of getting hurt, of losing what we have."

Nicholas stopped and faced me, his expression a mix of anger and pain. "So you'd rather keep me at arm's length than take a chance on something real?"

My silence spoke volumes. Nicholas sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I just want you to know that my feelings are real. And I can't keep doing this if you don't feel the same."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the heavy weight of my own fears.

As sat on my bed, staring at my phone. Nicholas's words from our heated last conversation echoed in my mind.

I had been taken aback by his confession, unsure of how to respond at the moment. But now, as I replayed our moments together—the laughter, the support, the way he looked at me with genuine affection—I realized my feelings had grown deeper too.

Determined, I grabbed my coat and headed to Nicholas's apartment. When he opened the door, surprise flashed across his face.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. "Nicholas, I've been thinking a lot about what you said. And I realize now that I want more too. I don't want to just be friends with benefits anymore. I want to be with you."

Nicholas's eyes softened, and a smile slowly spread across his face. "Are you sure, y/n?"

I nodded, stepping closer. "I've never been more sure of anything. You've always been there for me, and I can't imagine my life without you."

He pulled me into a soft kiss and embrace, holding me tightly. "I've waited so long to hear you say that."



[writingrock]

soft spot

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: from the start, Bakugou never liked you. So what would that ever change?

notes: fluff, falling in love, bakugou trying to process emotions, he can't believe he likes you, he's trying so hard to deny it

word count: 3.1k

a/n: I wrote this during my four hour flight with 'soft spot' by keshi on replay.

From the moment Bakugou passed you at the UA entrance exams, he hated you. Not that he had a solid reason. A passing glimpse at your eyes and the snippet of your voice was enough to rub him the wrong way. Something about you grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. It was irrational, and he knew it, but that didn’t matter. He felt a strange sense of satisfaction when he saw you were lagging behind him, though he didn't pay much attention. Why would he? You were just some random extra who’d probably wash out before the practical even started.

But when he saw you sitting in 1-A, any sense of relief vanished. You’d made it? Seriously? Bakugou’s disbelief morphed into simmering irritation as he watched you walk in with a confidence that only fueled his annoyance. He was fuming. You were going to be here for the entirety of his education at UA? His jaw clenched at the mere sight of you. Whatever. You were just another obstacle, one he planned to ignore. He only had to focus on becoming the number one hero. No way some nobody was going to distract him from his goal.

Yet life had other ideas. You got close to Mina, which meant you were suddenly hanging around his friends. But it was bad enough that he had to acknowledge your existence at all, let alone exchange the occasional curt greeting. The nail in the coffin was one project. When Aizawa paired the two of you up for a project. It felt like the universe was playing a cruel joke on him. Forced to work with you— a dumbass in his eyes— was the last thing he wanted.

And yet, as you both begrudgingly tackled the project, he realised you weren’t just some random annoyance. You were sharp, competent, and had a knack for getting things done without fuss. That revelation grated on him even more. It was only then, against his will, that he began to learn a bit more about you—bits and pieces that chipped away at his initial disdain, no matter how hard he tried to hold onto it.

Bakugou tried giving you a hard time, tossing insults your way whenever the opportunity arose. But you deflected them naturally, either brushing them off or firing back with witty comebacks that only annoyed him more. Somehow, you always managed to steer the conversation back to neutral ground— back to assignments or studies— like his words didn’t even faze you. Okay so maybe, just maybe, you were pretty decent at handling his crap. But who was he kidding? You were still annoying. Did you think you could figure him out that easily? Not a chance. You were just another obstacle in his way, nothing more.

You’re quite nice aren’t you? He’s seen you around the classroom. Always being nice, offering a smile, and somehow getting along with almost everyone in class. Hell, even some students outside of 1-A seemed to like you. The only exception was Mineta, and honestly, Bakugou couldn’t blame you for that. Nobody could be expected to put up with that creep for long. That grape-head can’t quit being a pervert for one second. But what gives? What was the point of all that friendliness? Not that it mattered to him. Those were your problems, not his. You had to deal with those people and not him. And you better not think for a second that it meant you’d get close to him.

For most of the year, he kept his distance, pretending you were just another face in the crowd. A few begrudging greetings, a handful of exchanged insults—that was the extent of your interactions. You were just some random classmate, nothing he needed to waste his thoughts on. And as the school year dragged to a close, Bakugou found relief in the thought of summer break. At least for a little while, he wouldn’t have to see your face at all. Or anyone for that matter.

After the summer break, everyone returned for their second year, and Bakugou couldn’t help but notice that you had bulked up. You’d clearly been working out— your leaner arms and toned physique were proof of that. It seemed like someone finally decided to stop slacking and hit the gym. Good for you, he thought. But in his mind, you still had a long way to go. You were already behind, and you’d need to push yourself even harder if you wanted to keep up.

It started out by chance. You both happened to hit the gym at the same time, and after a while, simply ignoring each other became impractical. Slowly, you started exchanging advice. Small tips here and there. Eventually, the idea of sparring came up, almost as a challenge neither of you wanted to back down from. Before long, sparring became a regular thing, an unspoken arrangement that had developed between you two.

With you constantly hanging around his friends and the realisation that you weren’t as insufferable as he’d first thought, Bakugou had to admit that the two of you were... alright. It wasn’t a friendship exactly, but it wasn’t hostility either. Maybe you exchanged texts sometimes, usually coordinating meet-ups with others, but eventually, those plans shifted to just the two of you. It was never planned; it just happened. And honestly, you were tolerable.

Somewhere along the line, he let you hang out in his room while he worked on something, your quiet presence oddly comforting in the background. Not that it meant anything, of course. You were just decent company, that’s all. Nothing else.

But you were stupid. How could someone forget to eat? You were smart, sure, but you couldn’t even stick to a basic eating schedule? It was ridiculous. Hopeless. So maybe Bakugou started making extra when he cooked, just in case you hadn’t eaten. It didn’t mean anything. He was just making sure you were functioning like a normal human being. Afterall, you train with him. Begrudgingly, he might admit you’re one of his training partners. He needed you in top shape, not passing out— from all things, not eating— in the middle of a sparring match.

Over time, he’d learned more about you than he ever expected. Your favourite things, your hobbies, your weird habits. Hell, he even knew what you were scared of—and of course, he teased you about it every chance he got. You were used to that by now. But it hadn’t really hit him just how close the two of you had gotten until one night.

He was making dinner, he found himself setting out a second plate without even thinking. He automatically measured out your usual portion: a precise amount of rice with a heap of pickled radish on the side, and you always liked having the— wait. Bakugou paused. Ladle still in hand as he stared down at the plate. When had he started paying this much attention? Has he always paid this much attention to you? When had he gotten so used to accommodating your tastes? That night, he pushed your plate aside with a scowl and grumbled at you to make your own damned plate.

Bakugou would never admit that he liked having you around, but in his own way, he appreciated you. You were sweet in that irritatingly attentive way, always knowing how to handle him and when to leave him alone. You’d become a solid study partner, sharp and focused, and you had this annoying habit of anticipating his needs before he could ask. You’d pass him his towel and water bottle between sets because you knew he’d need both; the sweat never stopped, and he always drank after each break. You’d grab protein snacks for the two of you between workouts, keeping energy levels high without saying a word.

And then there were the little things. You’d go grocery shopping alone and always pick up an extra snack for him. Tossing it into his room unless he gave you the nod to come in. You’d share music you thought he’d like. And usually, you were right. Without trying, you’d quietly woven yourself into his routine, and he’d come to rely on it more than he cared to admit. But he’d never say that out loud— not now, not ever.

Just because the two of you had gotten closer and Bakugou tolerated your presence didn’t mean he stopped insulting you. But by now, you were used to it. If anything, you found it fun to fire back with your own jabs, turning every snarky comment into an opportunity for banter.

When you both went off for the hero exchange, he surprised you by texting more often than he usually did. Not that it was a lot by normal standards, but for Bakugou, it was a significant change. You’d update him on what you were up to, and he’d do the same— short, clipped messages, but they were steady, a constant thread throughout the entire exchange. It might not seem like much to anyone else, but coming from him, it was more than you’d ever expected. You never mentioned it, but you enjoyed those texts. And secretly, though he’d never admit it, he looked forward to yours too.

When third year rolled around, there was a quiet comfort in knowing you’d be alongside him for the final stretch. Upon seeing you on the first day back, Bakugou couldn’t help but ruffle your hair with a playful smirk, teasing you before you even had the chance to greet him properly. It was such a natural, casual gesture that it slipped out. That alone was enough for his friends to catch on.

Bakugou hated the way his friends kept teasing him, constantly poking at how different he acted when you were around. Supposedly you make him different or whatever bullshit they were spewing. Didn’t they have anything better to do than pester him about some nonexistent crush? He scoffed and waved off their comments, rolling his eyes at their baseless claims. There was no truth to any of it. They were just talking out of their asses. The two of you? You were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

But lately… have you always been this cute? Bakugou had always found you attractive, sure, but suddenly, it was like you were glowing, and he couldn’t seem to look away. It annoyed him, how his gaze kept drifting toward you. Snapping his attention back to his notes, his pen harshly hits the paper. Angrily scribbling with more force than necessary. He did not like you. No way. Why the hell would he? There wasn’t a chance. What was he even saying? You look normal. Normal, basic looking, cute— he said cute again didn’t he?

It was four in the morning, and sleep was nowhere in sight. He lay there, cursing you under his breath. Why were you stuck in his mind, looping around like a bad song he couldn’t turn off? You were just being an irritating stain on his heart— no, his mind. You weren’t in his heart. That would be ridiculous. Just his thoughts, that was all. And that made it better, right? But as he tossed and turned, frustration bubbling up inside him, he realised he was wrong. It wasn’t any better. A low groan escaped him, and all he wanted to do was yell. But it was four in the morning, and all he could think about was you.

Bakugou didn’t want to fall. Falling in love? He didn’t even believe in that crap. Love was just a distraction, something that could derail his path to becoming the number one hero. He didn’t need whatever this was stirring inside him. But no matter how hard he tried to shove it down, you always came back. Like a stubborn ember refusing to die out. And a small part of him— one he didn’t dare acknowledge— wanted to let you in. To see if you could change his heart. What terrified him was the thought that you actually could. That you’d be the one to make him believe in love.

Yeah, he’s grumpy in the morning. Everyone steers clear of him. When you approached, you’d feel that heavy aura, instinctively knowing to leave him be, letting him brood in his silent fury. No one knew why he was in such a foul mood, and no one dared to ask. Not like he’d ever tell anyone anyway.

He tried to keep his distance from you. Forcing himself to act normal, like you were just another person in his orbit. Trying to treat you like you were everyone else. But his efforts were futile at best. Around you, his guard would drop unconsciously. His shoulders would relax, and he’d lean in just a little closer, drawn to your presence without meaning to be. It was maddening how easily he softened around you, how your very presence seemed to melt his defences away. When he caught himself, he’d snap back, stiffening his posture and throwing out some half-hearted insult, trying to reclaim his usual grouchiness. But it never lasted long. Because no matter how much he tried to fight it, he always ended up sinking back into the comfort of being near you. He couldn’t help it.

His gaze lingers on you, often without him realising it. A stolen glance here, a lingering touch there. Anything to feel that brief, electric contact. Normally, Bakugou wasn’t one for physical closeness; he hated being touched. But with you, it was different. He couldn’t resist the urge to brush his fingertips against yours, the lightest touch of your skin sending a jolt through him. A graze of your shoulder, the faintest brush of your arm—he craved it more than he’d ever admit. He felt like a fool and he hated it.

You want him to go to some new outlet with you? He’d follow without much protest, even if he didn’t see the point. You’d offer him a bite of some food he was sure he hated, and somehow, it tasted different when you fed it to him. Better, even. When you wanted to stay up and watch movies, he begrudgingly kept you company. Even though he’d rather be sleeping to adhere to his strict sleep schedule, his eyes are glued to the screen of your laptop. Occasionally flickering his gaze to you, just to make sure you didn’t doze off first. And if you were on the verge of sleeping, he’d hit you. You were the one who wanted to watch this dumb movie and he’d be damned if you were going to fall asleep.

But finally, he’s changed his mind on you. These past few months, he’d finally convinced himself that he didn’t feel anything for you at all. Whatever had been pulling him toward you was gone. He’s sure of it. He didn’t like you—not even a little bit. In fact.

He hates you.

He hated the way you looked at him—the way your eyes lingered, the way your smile seemed to light up the room, the way your laugh echoed in his ears long after it faded. He hated how you fidgeted with your fingers, how you’d absentmindedly tap the table, or purse your lips in concentration while trying to remember where you left your stuff (which was, as always, on the floor between your bed and the bedside table). He hated the way you’d run your fingers through your hair to fluff it up, how you got lost in the pages of whatever book you were reading, or the way you hummed along to the music you were currently hooked on. And then there was your clumsiness—the way you always bumped into things on your left side, so much so that he instinctively started walking on that side, like he could shield you from your own absentmindedness.

He hated the way you spoke to him, the playful grin on your face when you said something witty, the mocking lilt in your voice whenever you got a good comeback. He hated the concern that crept into your tone when you noticed him pushing too hard, insisting that he rest properly. He hated the way you cared for him with a gentleness he didn’t think he deserved. He hated how you’d rise back up every time he knocked you down during sparring, your relentless spirit never wavering. The twinkle in your eyes when you talked about the future, the way you’d smile at him without a hint of hesitation—it all drove him insane. But most of all, he hated how easily he could see himself in that future with you, that creeping thought of being by your side no matter where you went. And he hated that he didn’t hate it at all.

He hated that he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

Maybe he’d always had a soft spot for you. Even if he never wanted to admit it, he couldn’t deny the truth he’d buried for so long: he’d fallen for you. You had him wrapped around your finger and he couldn’t stop himself. It was what you did to him that he hated the most. How you affected him. How you turned him into a lovesick fool. All because you existed beside him. He needed you because you’re everything he isn’t. He doesn't believe in love but no one makes him feel like you do.

In truth, he hated you from the start because you didn’t feel unfamiliar. When you meet new people, it usually takes time. Getting used to their mannerisms, their presence, the way they filled a room. So why were you so familiar? With you, there was no adjustment period. From that very first glance, your eyes were soft and inviting, your atmosphere light and effortless, as if you’d always been a part of his world. Even your scent, subtle and barely noticeable, felt familiar. Why were you so easy to get used to? You were so easy to get used to, and that terrified him. The moment you passed by him at the entrance exam, he’d felt it— a premonition of love he’d tried desperately to ignore. He knew from the start that falling for you was inevitable.

You knew it too didn’t you? That you’d end up falling for him as well. He never needed to confess because you already knew. You understood him well enough to know he’d never openly admit it. It only took one late night and a shared kiss for the two of you to finally embrace the love you both saw from the very beginning.

恋の予感 koi no yokan: (n.) lit. Premonition of love; the sense one can have upon meeting someone for the first time that the two of you are going to fall in love.

“You were never going to make the first move were you?”

“Shut up and kiss me again.”

It refers to the knowledge that future love is inevitable.

a/n: ugh I loved writing this on the plane. But I am very very tired now. For my wife @chocogoldie

border credits: @/enchanthings & @/adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.

[letstripdotcom]

shut up my moms calling- chris sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n i love naming my fics after songs bc then i listen to them on replay while i write.

summary- coming home from college means seeing the kid you’ve hated most your whole life. chris sturniolo. you’ve hated everything about his existence since the beginning of 6th grade when you transferred to somerville. the summer after your freshman year of college is when everything starts to change.

warnings- long(ish) smut ofc, mention of toxic relationship, choking, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl) overstimulation {i think that’s all!}

-

6th grade

i just moved from oklahoma to a small town outside of boston called somerville. it was my first day of 6th grade and i was everything but excited to go. i had a good amount of friends in oklahoma, and absolutely none in massachusetts. if it were up to me i would have stayed, but i had no choice because my mom got offered better work down here.

i walked into the crowded classroom with my schedule in hand. “is this mrs sawyers class?” i ask quietly. “yes it is, and you must be y/n?” she looks up at me through her glasses. “y-yes” i utter nervously. “nice to meet you, have a seat wherever” I walk to a more empty side of the classroom and take a seat.

“newww girlll” i voice calls out in a mocking tone when i sit down. when i look up i lock eyes with a boy with short brown hair. hes sat with his 2 triplet brothers and another one of their friends. “yeah?” i say quietly. he starts immediately attacking me with questions

“where are you from? why are you here? what school did you go to last? did you have friends” i’m overwhelmed as questions pour out of his mouth. “chris you’re freaking her out” his brother says. “i’m nick.” he smiles at me. “that’s chris, obviously, and that’s matt”

“hey nice to meet you” the third one says. “oh and that’s nate.” nick says. i nod my head looking at the 4 boys. “i’m y/n” i say. “y/n?” chris says under his breath almost inaudible. “excuse me?” i say turning my head to look at him. “what nothing.” he tries to play it off

“who decided on the name y/n, your mom or your dad?” chris asks with a disgusted but confused look on his face. “it was my mom’s best friend’s name before she passed.” i explained. “tough” he muttered. the whole rest of the class period was filled with his snarky remarks and questions.

over time, as i got closer to matt and nick, the snarky remarks from chris turned into full on arguments. anything i would say would lead to chris having something else to say. i could tell him my head hurts and he would say something along the lines of “maybe if you wouldn’t think so hard about what to say and just shut the fuck up for once that wound be a problem.” i would just roll my eyes and go back to talking to nick

-

this behavior lasted all the way through senior year of high school. i stayed close with nick and matt, which means i was stuck with chris. we got in several heated arguments over the years and they all led to me leaving the triplets house at 2 in the morning because i couldn’t physically be around chris.

our last big fight was the weekend before i left for college. nick wanted to host a small party of about 15 friends for me since i wouldn’t be seeing him again til the summer. we were setting up the decorations and chris was being extra annoying.

“chris can you actually help out and stop acting like a fucking toddler.” i snapped at him while he stood under me watching me hang up a banner. “maybe if you weren’t nagging at me every 30 seconds.” he complained. “i wouldn’t be nagging if you wouldn’t stand in my way instead of actually contributing to anything in this world” i yelled, stepping off the ladder as i finished hanging the banner.

“you act like i wanna do this party. i don’t give a fuck about you.” he spat “i might not even show up tonight because you’ve been a bitch all day long!” my heart dropped and i felt a lump form in my throat. bitch? me and chris never got along but he never called me a bitch

he knew how much i hated it because of a past relationship i had. during junior year, i was in a super toxic relationship with a kid from our school. i was so naive i had thought he had actually liked me but it turns out i was wrong. we would constantly argue and he would gaslight me into forgiving him.

i stared at chris blankly as tears formed in my eyes. “y/n i-“ “fuck you chris.” i cut him off “and yeah i think it’s best you don’t show up tonight.” i ran upstairs to the bathroom and wiped away my tears. i checked in the mirror and adjusted myself before going back down.

-

present day

i hung up the phone with nick and got in my car. i was on my way home from college for the summer, and i finally got to see my best friend. he’s so excited that he rented out a cabin by the lake for a whole week to celebrate. i haven’t seen any of the triplets since i left, i haven’t seen chris since before the party. chris. my stomach dropped and my heart started pounding when the realization hit that i would be seeing chris.

i didn’t want to see him at all. nick said he changed a lot, and maybe he did, but you can never be too sure. and he did change a lot physically. chris was much more attractive then he was in highschool, not that he’s ever been unattractive, other than his personality.

about a few hours later i called nick to tell him i was close to the cabin. i pulled in and nick darted outside. “omgggg it’s been forever” i squealed as i got out of my car. “you have to see the place!” he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the back of the house. “there’s a hot tub, a massive pool and all of this space.” he gawked at the house. we went inside as he gave me a tour of the house. “this is your room!” he announced pointing inside.

i looked around and it was absolutely beautiful. “thank you so much nick this is amazing” i hugged him. “don’t thank me too much” he said “i had to put you in the room across the hall from chris, i hope you don’t mind because i’ll work something out”

“no that’s totally fine, i’ll just pretend he isn’t even here” i smiled. he smiled back “okay i’ll be downstairs getting everything ready bc we’re gonna have movie night tonight just like high school.” he said as he left my room.

after i got settled in, i took a shower. i picked out my pajamas which was just a big t shirt and shorts and i headed down stairs happily. “there she is!” matt exclaimed, giving me a hug. “matt i missed you so much!” i said hugging him back

after i pulled away, i made eye contact with chris, who was glaring at me and matt. i shot him a calm smile and looked away. wow chris got really hot. you thought to yourself. no, chris is awful. but i couldn’t help but notice his fluffy hair and his defined jawline.

i noticed his sun kissed face, which made his freckles stand out. god i could only imagine what he looked like with my leg- no. remember what chris said to you. i snapped myself out of my thoughts and sat by nick on the the couch. he handed me a blanket and i cuddled up next to him and focused my eyes on the screen

my focus only lasted for about 30 seconds before my mind was back on chris. why hasn’t he spoke to me? because he hates me. duh. i wonder what he’s thinking right now. why am i so worried about chris? “you okay?” nick asks from beside me. “yeah i’m fine” i say in a convincing reassuring tone.

after the movie ends, i say goodnight and i head up to my room. i get situated in my bed, and i try to fall asleep but i can’t. my mind is flooded with thoughts of chris, and the next thing i know my hand is down my pants. what has happened to me?

this is chris sturniolo, the kid who’s bullied me for 7 years. i never imagined i would be getting off to the thought of him at 2 in the morning. i need to go to bed, but i physically can’t.

i get up out of bed and dig through my bags. i grab my pink swim suit and put it on. a get a towel from my bathroom and quietly head down stairs. i go out the back door and get in the hot tub. i zone out and try to find peace of mind.

i sit there with my eyes closed until i hear someone else getting in the water. i open my eyes, only to see chris. great. this is exactly what i need right now. “look y/n” his voice breaks me out of my thoughts. “i’m really sorry for the way i’ve treated you, you didn’t deserve any of it. but, we’re older now so i wanna put the past in the past”

“i forgive you” i say flatly. “really?” he seems genuinely shocked. “can i kiss you?” i asked immediately regretting what i said. “what?” is all he says before i grab my towel and run inside.

i lay on my bed for a split second before i hear a knock. i know it’s chris, but i still go to the door and answer it. i look up at him with a guilty look on my face. before i speak he’s slamming his face into mine.

he kisses me very passionately like he’s been waiting is whole life. he pushes me into my room and shuts the door behind us. he turns me and pushes me against is as he kisses me harder. one of his hands come up and squeeze my neck slightly

i moan into his mouth causing him to squeeze harder. i moan again growing super wet between my legs. one of my hands come up to tug on his hair, while the other one makes its way up his shirt.

with one hand still around my neck, he guides me over to my bed and lays me down flat as he climbs on top of me. “can i?” he asks, toying with the strap of my top. “pls chris” i whine. he unties my top and yanks it off, his mouth immediately meeting my nipple, his available hand massaging my other breast.

i throw my head back and moan as he does whatever he wants. next thing i know, his hand is coming off my throat, and down my body. he stops abt my bottoms before looking at me for confirmation. i nod desperately. his cold hands slip into my bottoms as his fingers meet my clit.

i’m a moaning mess at this point, begging for whatever contact i can get. “god you’re fucking soaked.” he says, his voice raspy and quiet. “fuck chris please touch me.” i beg “whatever you want princess” he says before putting his ring and middle finger inside of me. he quickly pumps in and out for a few seconds before i cut him of. “chris wait” i say

“are you okay did i do something wrong?” he questions. “no but i have an idea.” i tell him. i then instruct him to lay on his back and put his head on the pillow. i watch as he does what i say. once he’s situated i ask him “can i sit on your face?”

i laughed a little inside about how innocent it sounded. “of course princess” he says. i make my way closer to him as i put my legs on either side of his head. i slightly lower myself down, enough to make contact.

my legs shake as i try to hold myself up while he eats me. he lifts me up a little and says “don’t be shy baby, suffocate me.” he grips my waist harder as he pulls me down all the way onto his face. my back arches at the contact.

chris eats me like i was his last meal, i grip the headboard, and struggle to stay quiet while his nose rubs my clit. “chris i’m g-gonna cum” i whine. one of his hands come off my waist and grabs my ass, massaging it. my legs squeeze his head. and i moan uncontrollably as i release all over his face.

after i come down from my high, i get off and straddle his waist. i lean down and kiss him, tasting myself. i grind on his hard on while we kiss, making him grunt. i reach my hand down and palm his boxers as his body twitches.

i go for the band of his swim shorts and slowly pull them down, exposing his hard dick. i look him in the eyes, to get his consent “y/n please” is all i need to hear before i slowly stroke him. he moans and tosses his head back

after a few more strokes, i sit up and line myself up with him. i slowly lower myself onto him, wincing at his size as i feel him in me. once i’m fully sat, i sit still for a minute to adjust. once i’m ready i start bouncing up and down. he puts one hand on my waist to guide me, as the other one makes it way to mu sensitive clit.

“ughh chris don’t stop” i whine as i ride him. my words make him rub my clit even faster than before. my eyes are now practically stuck in the back of my head as i moan out for him. when i’m about to finish, i clench around him, making his mouth fall open. i come all over him, as he helps me through my high

“good job princess.” he grunts i keep riding him until i feel him twitch. “you feel so good pretty girl. i’m almost there.” i clench again, becoming slightly overstimulated. just then he releases, inside of me. after he comes down i slide off and plop on my bed.

“you okay princess?” he asks with concern “overstimulated” is all i can bring myself to mutter. chris picks me up and lays me in a more comfortable spot on the bed. he then heads to my bathroom and comes back with a towel. he helps clean me off before he finds the shorts and shirt i had on earlier.

he helps me put them on, then he puts his shorts on and goes to his room. i feel sad in that moment. how could he to all of that just to leave? just then he enters my room with pajama pants on. “don’t worry i’m not going anywhere.” he whispers as he crawls into bed with me.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n: kinda love this what do u think?

[love-toxin]

File 11 - Miguel O'Hara

plot: as much as it hurts, he knows you were meant to be together, even if you don't remember the man you once loved.

cws: miguel pov, fem!reader, atsv spoilers, smut mentions, interdimensional romance timelines, lovers -> strangers -> lovers, casual hookups, kids/pregnancy talk, angst + fluff, denial of feelings (man's got it so bad), mutual pining, character death mentions.

word count: 2.8k

Every morning he wakes up without you is torture.

Plain and simple. Torture. Pure, unadulterated torture that cripples his heart each morning he cracks open his eyes and finds the place beside him empty. It's cold even on the hottest nights, bristling the back of his neck no matter how much he sweats in the long summers. It's always been terrible–ever since that day that you, your daughter, and his whole world ceased to exist, Miguel hasn't truly found peace even in passing moments. Eating his favourite meal from the commissary to finding a breakthrough in his plans for the spiderverse, it just doesn't feel right.

And while he'd long gotten used to that feeling, the dull ache has soared into a sting now that he faces you each day he comes into work.

It's not "you" per se–not his version of you–but the you that stands in front of him each and every morning has your face, your smile, your laugh, your cheeky sense of humour, everything. You have everything. Everything except a memory of him, even a shred of it, because as much as he wants you to see him and throw yourself into his embrace, you have no memory of him. You don't see him as a husband, a father, a friend, you see him as Miguel–not to say that you don't also consider him your savior, which you certainly do. He rescued you from a dying dimension that some other hero screwed up, and broke his own rules in doing so because he just couldn't watch you die twice. He still can't bear watching it replay in his mind every time he falls asleep, that first time when he truly wished he had just died alongside both of you to spare himself the pain. To spare himself from hearing your screams and your daughter's terrified sobs as his world disappeared from within his very arms.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he wonders if there was a Miguel in your own dimension. If you loved him or were destined to love him, but you never got the chance to live out your life together. Maybe he was just a normal guy. Not a hero, not a spiderman, not anyone. Just some average joe with a crush on someone he never imagined he could actually settle down and have a family with. Maybe there was–and maybe nothing ever happened because he just simply can't have anything good last in his life.

That's why, despite how heavy that ring feels on his left hand, and how much his heart aches at knowing that you're right there, Miguel goes to bed every night alone. In the beginning he rebuffed you, shut down any ounce of flirtation, didn't even take it when you made lighthearted jokes or someone else did in your place. He can't go through those losses again, but more importantly he can't put you through those losses again. That dimension was one thing, but what he's built here can't be replaced or broken down. He's mapped out the avenues and deduced that if he pursues you, he loses. So instead of allowing himself those simple pleasures of being close to you, he pushed you away so frequently he could tell it was starting to wear on you. You wondered if you even belonged in the society, your delicate self with nothing but a wristband that still didn't always keep you from glitching on occasion.

But that all changed just a few months ago. It's still burned into his brain, that first time–his muscles still itching for the feeling to meet them again. The feeling of you.

It hadn't hit him until then just how long it'd been since he'd taken care of those needs. He'd spent so many long nights with the company of no one, or the satisfaction of nothing but his hand, that the promise of being with a woman again both frightened and exhilarated him. But it wasn't just any woman, because he's well worn out that mat, it was you. You who might not have remembered him, but you remembered the way you two always made love because it came to you so naturally. You pleased him like it was a second skin, did it without even trying and when you did try it was nothing short of heavenly. You were and are godlike in every which way, your body so soft he worries he'll cut you on his own hard, jagged frame, yet so pliable it's second nature to press your knees back to your shoulders and pipe you like you're a pretty little milking cow and he's a raging bull in heat. There's been times he genuinely couldn't help himself and just gave in to his desires to breed you, his cock straining for your deepest, most vulnerable spots that you gladly gave up the moment he begged to knock you up. Yes, begged–he was at your mercy even in his rawest moments, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Even if the conversations afterward were awkward and filled with cheap laughter as you both sobered up from your lustful haze.

God, you felt so good. Every occasion is better than the last–every chance to feel you pressed against his skin is nothing short of a blessing.

"Mr. Miguel?"

His hand twitches at the interruption of his thoughts, his cup tipping off the desk but stopping with a quick shot of his webs–luckily for him his instincts are still rather crisp, or else he'd be making a mockery of himself in front of the very object of his desires and spilling water all over his floating monitors.

"Mh? Yes?" He turns his head, and there you are in all your radiant glory. Pen tucked behind your ear, outfit of the day clean and prim, eyes sparkling as they always do even when you look at him with concern. How precious. It's just a cup.

"O-Oh, sorry! Nice catch," You add rather hastily before holding out a stack of files, each one labeled and organized by name just as he asked you to do since you started. "Here's the paperwork for the newbies. Do you want it anywhere specific, Mr. Miguel?"

"Set it on the counter there, I'll have Parker look it over. Might busy him and May for awhile." He grumbles that last part under his breath, finally turning around completely from his screens and rolling out his shoulders from hunching so much over them. Fully facing you now is a problem…it's always a problem with how tight this suit can be.

"Oh, you love her, don't even lie." Lie. Lie. Lie. For god's sakes, just lie.

"I tolerate her presence in my workspace."

"Isn't she just adorable, though? She gives me baby fever like mad–don't you feel it too?" One look at you, one shared glance is all it takes in that moment for him to crack.

"...Maybe. Just…a little bit, though." And you just grin. That big, dumb, pretty grin that has him turning away from you in a hurried bid to hide the restlessness stirring beneath his spandex.

That first time was barely memorable in clarity not because of your performance or his, but because you were both drunk out of your minds after Peter's birthday party and couldn't peel yourselves off of each other when he took you back home. You'd gotten on top of him, he'd tugged your dress off, you kissed and the rest was history–rough, drooling, heart-pounding history as you rode his lap and whispered things into his ear that to this day he wishes he had recorded. No precautions, no inhibitions, no worries about your lives as they would go on, just the two of you getting yourselves off and spilling out some foul compliments on the way there. How he loves the way your eyes roll back when you cum and how good his tongue feels inside you, how you want him to finish inside you, please Miguel-

"Don't forget to eat, Miguel. You're still human, you know–not just a worker bot." A pat on his shoulder, a whiff of your perfume, and you're gone again. A wisp of memory that mingles with the heated sweat trickling down his neck as he remembers what you looked like on your knees.

In reality, it's been more than that one time, more than twice or even three times. For a couple months now he's found comfort in you after hours, had his needs taken care of completely by the person that so embodies who he was in love with not so long ago. It's taken him awhile to accept it but he knows for sure that you are that person–you and her are one in the same, the only difference being that you haven't yet fallen for him and started your family together. Well, maybe you have, for all he knows. He can't get his hopes up….not quite yet, at least.

Could you be pregnant already? The idea passes over his head and the mere thought of it pools a heat into his lower stomach that he's quick to drown with a sip of water. It's possible, that's true, but…well, you've certainly forgone protection together a couple times after that first encounter. You could be. But if you are, he's got a whole world of problems coming his way. But it would make him so happy. So would Parker, he'd have a friend for Mayday to play with–but he has to shake it from his mind with total urgency, because that's not his purpose and it's not what he should be focusing on at all. You're a coworker and a fling. Nothing more. A piece of meat to sink his teeth into when he feels the urge, a bloodbag to drink from when you so graciously allow him to, an assistant to shut up and do the work he demands of you without question.

He's trying so hard to convince himself of that that he can barely keep his eyes on the screens. Because the moments where he feels you twitch around him and when he sinks his fangs into your throat during the heat of the moment don't nearly affect him as much as those other moments; the softer ones, the ones where he brushes some hair from your face and you laugh at his cheesy attempt at a joke, when you fall asleep in his arms and he cradles you close like he did when you were married, when he lays awake and ponders not taking you back to your room but keeping you under his arm all night. Warm. Safe. Here. Not just in his memories, but in real life.

Maybe if you did fall in love, and if you did get married, and if you had his child, he'd even get to see his precious Gabriella again. His life. His love. His fingers flicker towards the secure files on his hard drive without him even noticing, and in moments he has those videos up and playing like he hasn't watched them a thousand times over. Those darling smiles and that precious laughter…he would just die to hear it again in real life and not through his speakers, and who's to say it wouldn't happen? If he'd allow himself a moment to indulge, how could he be sure that you wouldn't have Gabi in your lives again if you tried for her? Would you even object if he told you the truth and showed you these videos as proof? You have such a kind heart, he'd struggle to believe you wouldn't offer to give him his dream if you knew it even existed.

But a better question is; is the fate of the spiderverse worth it? Would his act of subverting destiny again ruin even more lives than the ones in his own dimension? Is it worth…..no, it's not worth the risk.

With a sigh, Miguel closes the videos and, for the umpteenth time, hovers his fingers uselessly over the delete key. Those memories of you and her are all he has to cling to, but as always, he's reminded of the cost of dwelling too far on times he'll never get to relive. Gabi's gone, you are gone, and no matter how often he entertains it in his mind he'll never have the life he wants back. Ever. It's just not possible, and it's not fair to expect the sacrifices of every other hero in these dimensions while avoiding his own. He has to be a pillar of strength, even though it feels like he'll always be worthless as his hand lowers and he moves the files back into his storage. Gabi's voice crying out "Gotcha, papi!" on that last video as she smushes her dessert into his face, his gaze halting as he watches his past self and his daughter laughing while you hold the camera. You're so beautiful you transcend your own image; your mere presence is absolute beauty and the thought of you is as pure as the joy in those videos.

"She's adorable, too."

In a split-second, Miguel's head whips over his shoulder and he locks eyes with the one person who he swore he could never let see these videos–you. You, who clearly didn't leave when he thought you had, and had casually wandered up behind him completely unnoticed as he got wrapped up in the past. Like a man possessed, he throws his hand out to slam the pause command on the hologram and stop you from witnessing any more, because if you realize that it's you that's also in this scene, then…well, he has no idea what to do, then.

"Y-You weren't supposed to–puta madre–I thought you left, what're you doing sneaking around?" A twinge of guilt hits him at the rejection that dims your eyes, but you lighten up almost as fast and skirt around him to peer closer at the video, still paused on himself and his daughter propped up on his shoulders.

"Nothing. Is this your daughter?" You ask it so casually he almost falls victim to offense rising inside him, up until he reminds himself that the you he's talking to isn't Gabriella's mother. You have no recollection of her, and it…it's very difficult not to want to talk your ear off about her like she's still here, and he's still her papi.

"I…yes, this is–was–my daughter-"

"Gabriella?" Your eyes flick up towards the file name, something unusually placid about your gaze.

"Yes…Gabriella. Gabi."

The silence beckons him into anger, to turn to rage in the absence of a proper answer to this predicament. But instead of raising his voice and shouting you away, he waits and watches you watching the hologram because it isn't moving, but there's something there. Dare he consider that the depth of your gaze is because there's some flicker of recognition in your eyes? This video is, after all, from your perspective, so would it be so far-fetched to think that maybe you might be seeing yourself in that little girl that shares your smile?

"...Y'know, I miss people from my world, too." You finally turn your head to look up at him, your head full of clouds like always. "It's not all bad to reminisce, Miguel."

I know that. That's what he wants to say, how he wants to react; with a bitter amount of snark that would turn a lesser companion away. But for now, for once, he just shuts his mouth and turns his eyes away. He can't bear to meet your gaze no matter how much he wants to bask in it.

"Are you busy tonight?"

"I…I don't think I have plans." Those words choke themselves out of him by force but they don't turn you off. The heat on your skin, the furrow of your brow…somehow you're only dialed all the way up.

"Mmh. Sounds good. Let's hang out, yeah? I'll help you loosen up." You pat his shoulder with more impact this time, you actually mean it this time as you step down to take your leave. But you're not gone yet, you still linger for him to wish you were and weren't all at the same time. When you look at him, as conflicted as he feels, all he sees are stars in your eyes. "....Gabriella, right? It's a really cute name. I like it."

Maybe you know. You giggle just as sweetly as the you in that tape–maybe if you don't know, it's just as good. Regardless of who he was and who you were before all this, despite everything, he still has you. That's more than he could ask for in any world, and in any lifetime.

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Something Old, Something New

Title: Something Old, Something New

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Nick Fowler x Reader

Fandom: The 355

Word Count: 9.5K (whoopsie)

Summary: Your childhood best friend invites you to your old vacation spot for her wedding, and you have been catching up with your first crush: her recently divorced big brother Nick.

Warnings: infidelity, divorce, recreational drug use (marijuana), drinking, mutual pining, pet names (Gumdrop, baby), praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected p-in-v sex, mention of bodily fluids (creampie), public sex, if I forgot anything please tell me

A/N1: My tiles for @thebasementspouses VOTM Nick Fowler BINGO were: divorced, best friend’s brother, writer’s choice(prompt #802 from @creativepromptsforwriting), drunken confession, public sex. BINGO card at end of story.

A/N2: I have been working on this story for weeks and I really hope I have done the Nick Fowler fandom justice. It's my first time, and hopefully not the last time, writing for Nick. I thoroughly enjoyed writing him. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best. 

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Three Months Ago

The cardstock was rigid in your hands, the envelope discarded seconds ago. The confetti in the envelope litters around your Chucks as you bring your attention to the words embossed upon the invitation. You had been waiting for this day ever since you received the Save the Date announcement.

You ran your finger over the pretty lettering, its raised borders were a nice tactile touch. The peaceful pink, whispered white, and mellow merlot of the flowers against a hint of golden accents was a beautiful choice. Not too feminine, nor too masculine.

Turning the invitation over, you found more information. 

‘Accommodations will be completely covered for your 8-night stay at The Ocracoke Harbor Inn by the family of the Bride. You will be staying in the fully-furnished Treasure Chest Cottage. Amenities include full-service linens, complimentary wireless Internet, and guest boat docking. Guests have access to a sound-side beach. Password for WI-FI given upon check-in. Nonsmoking, no pets.’

Leave it to the Fowlers to go nuts and rent out the entire inn for their only daughter’s wedding, you thought to yourself. You were not surprised at all, growing up as a rich girl’s best friend had its perks.

As if on cue, your phone started to play the opening notes of Losing You by Solange to signal an incoming call. Pulling your phone out, you smiled seeing Deanne’s name. You clicked Accept and raised the phone to your ear.

“Hello to the future Mrs. Alexander!” Your cheery demeanor not letting on how jealous you were of your friend’s impending nuptials.

Euphonious laughter rings through the earpiece and you can’t help but join in.

“Girl, can you believe it? I am about to tie the knot, be off the market, and settle down. I’m only 12% nervous about everything so I’m doing great,” she snorted, and suddenly you were a bit less jealous if this kind of anxiety is what she had to deal with, “Anyway, um, I was giving you a call because I wanted to ask if you got your invitation and I also wanted to see if I could save myself time in waiting for your R.S.V.P. and bug and pester you until you agree to let my parents pay for you to come spend a week with us and come to my wedding and–”

“Deanne! Stop with the run-on sentence, doll. Did you think I was gonna pass up this opportunity? God, I love that you chose Ocracoke as your wedding destination. So many vacations were spent getting into all kinds of trouble,” you recalled, images of splashing in the water as kids and lounging on the beach as teens replayed in your mind.

“Yeah. Hey, when we were little girls planning our dream weddings, I was serious when I said I wanted it on the beach on Ocracoke Island. But not in the summer because of bugs and heat, but in the winter so we get that beautiful off-season fresh air,” Deanne mused.

“Dee, it’s gonna be gorgeous. I cannot wait to see you in your stunning dress walking down that aisle. Just know that since I am your oldest friend, you pretty much owe me the bouquet,” you laughed, only half-joking.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s already yours,” she bantered, clearing her throat before speaking again, “So, I also called because I wanted to vent a little, if that’s okay?”

“It’s always okay. You doing alright?” you asked, now worried that your friend was in trouble.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I have an update on Nick and Tori, though,” she paused, allowing your mind to wander.

The mention of your first crush’s name sent a shiver down your back. Many a moment had been wasted thinking about his pretty smile and grayish-blue eyes. You’d liked Nick before you knew you even liked boys. He was the heartthrob that trumped every teen dream of every other girl in America’s heart. In your mind, he was the closest to perfect you could imagine. 

You responded, “Oh?”

“So, their divorce is finalized. My big brother is officially a divorcé. I would have thought that a man who was with someone for so long might be partying it up right now. But he says he’s focusing on work and, I don’t know. I just want him to be happy. And like, he’s getting divorced as I’m getting married and it feels so weird. It doesn’t seem fair,” she lamented.

“Dee, come on. You know Nicky wouldn’t want you to think like that. He loves you. You’re his favorite sibling,” you jested, trying to lighten the mood.

“Ha ha. I’m his only sibling. I better be his favorite,” Dee chuckled, happy to be distracted, “So that brings me to you, Miss Missy. Last I heard, you were dating some engineer guy? Do I get to meet him soon?”

You inwardly cringed, hopes dashed of being able to avoid the topic of your relationship status. Things with Curtis kind of fizzled out when you found his tongue down an intern’s throat. You had been bringing him dinner since he’d complained about the late nights at the office.

Turns out he was hungry for more than your baked ziti. 

You explained all this to Dee, remembering the look on Curtis’ face when you poured the prepared food into his lap. He was so shook, it was beautiful.

“I didn’t want to waste all that food but he looked wonderful with my pasta all over his shirt and pants. He honestly deserved it. It was his favorite shirt too. I hope those stains never come out,” you huffed, feeling like you were right back in that office again.

“I have never been so proud of you. I wish I could put hot sauce in his underwear for hurting my girl. I’m sure if I just had a few minutes, I could come up with something more diabolical than that. But it’s what I have at a moment’s notice,” she retorted.

One thing you could always count on Dee for? Getting angry for you and using her beautiful and educated mind to come up with some way to make the person who slighted you pay for their misdeeds. It was both adorable and super embarrassing to have her tiny frame looking up into some bully’s face pointing her finger at them.

“Well, I appreciate your offer, but he is so not worth the energy. You have much better things to think about, like your wedding day. This is your cue to stop worrying about me, Dee,” you advised, a stern tone coloring your words.

“Fine, I will stop worrying about you out loud. You got it, girl. Anyway, I won’t hold you. Talk soon, ok? I miss you,” she said, and you could envision her getting bleary-eyed.

“I miss you too, Dee. We’ll get together soon, I promise,” you sighed, feeling guilty for letting your friendship dwindle over the years.

“I’ll hold you to it. Bye, babe,” she hummed.

“Bye.” You hang up the phone and close your eyes. Visions of what Dee will look like in her wedding dress cloud your thoughts. Little snippets of grayish-blue eyes and dark brown hair seep in and you can almost hear his laugh again. You open your eyes, blinking away the mental images that brought you joy for a moment.

‘This is fine,’ you thought to yourself. Yeah, totally. You’re only going to see your best friend from childhood get married, effectively ending your childhood with a pretty bow on top. You also were only going to be with the biggest crush you ever had for like, an entire week. 

And he’s single. 

And probably needy. 

And...you had better get your jaw up off the floor if you were going to get anything done.

Three months is enough time to get your brain, your body, and your emotions in check before you make a fool out of yourself in front of your second family.

Right?

January 20th, 2024 – Day One

Standing on the deck of the Hatteras Ferry, you watch as Ocracoke Island comes into view. The sun is at its highest and you are thankful for your sunglasses shielding the the bright sunlight bouncing off the crystal clear waters. You can taste the salty air and you are instantly transported to memories of running around the decks of this ferry with Deanne and Nick while your mothers tried in vain to wrangle you all.

The island comes into view and you search the docks for a familiar face. Dee promised to meet you at the docks, but when you approach them she is nowhere to be found. You pull your luggage behind you as your shoulder bag decides to slide off.

Before it can hit the ground, it’s caught by the strap by a strong hand at the same time you reach out to grab it. You thank the kind stranger as you both stand to your full height and you are face-to-face with a grown-ass Nicholas Fowler. He says something and you don’t hear hide nor hair of what the hell he just said, you look at him and break into a smile and he chuckles and speaks again.

“I hope you don’t mind Dee got me to pick you up. She had some wedding stuff to do. I wasn’t listening,” he explains, adjusting his sunglasses and putting your bag on his shoulder. He gestures over to his black Lamborghini Urus. 

Once you walk over, he puts your shoulder bag in the back seat. You step closer to him to hand him your rolling luggage. You are mesmerized as his strong forearms flex when he puts everything in the SUV. 

You clear your throat and look around when he looks back at you, catching you watching him. He closes the back door and guides you to the passenger side, opening your door for you.

“Oh, you’re a full-service driver today, huh?” you joke, stepping past him. Your platform espadrilles clacking on the asphalt. Adjusting your strapless sundress, you climb in.

“Whatever service you require, Gumdrop,” he replies with a smile, making sure you are comfortable before closing your door.

That fucking nickname… He would call you gumdrop instead of your name more often than not. That’s all, he didn’t mean anything by it, right?

When you are both buckled in, you start the drive across the island. Comfortable conversation is easy between you two. It’s like you fall back into a safe space with him. You talk about old vacations, funny moments, and what you both are up to these days. Neither of you mentions either of your failed relationships and you can’t keep the smile off of your face.

“Hey, we still have an hour until check-in. You wanna grab a bite or go to the beach or something?” he suggests.

“Are you sure they’re not waiting for us?” you counter, wondering if it’s a good idea to have a little moment with Nick all to yourself.

“I’d rather ask for forgiveness than permission. No pressure, just a suggestion,” he presses, taking a second to look over at you and smile that smile that has had you in a chokehold most of your life.

After thinking about it for all of five seconds, you agree to have lunch at Plum Pointe Kitchen. You enjoy a generous helping of Drunken Chicken nachos while Nick gets the VooDoo Shrimp PO’Boy. You share half of your meal, and Nick refuses to let you pay for anything.

Making your way to the Ocracoke Harbor Inn after lunch, you finally meet up with everyone. Dee is in mid-conversation with someone when she sees you and Nick pull up into the parking lot. She walks over to you and pulls you into a very tight embrace. It’s like everything was chaos before you got here.

“Oh my goodness, I am so glad you are here. How was the trip? Did you eat? Did Nick bore you? I’m sorry that I couldn’t come and meet you, but we had a little mishap with the reservation for the hotel and then I thought I left my wedding dress at home, and then we–”

You cut off Dee before she can work herself into a frenzy again, “Dee! Breathe. You’re gonna be fine, I promise. And is that Matthew? Introduce me already, would you?” you encourage, trying to get your friend’s mind off of the previous debacle and onto the man walking over.

Dee introduces you to Matthew and he charms you with the way he dotes on Dee. He seems like the type to be able to handle her rambling and intense emotions. How he looks at her while she speaks makes you miss having someone look at you like that.

“Well, it’s just about 3 o’clock now. Let’s get checked in and settled, then we can get together later?” Matthew chimes in.

“Sounds good,” Nick agrees, turning to you, “Go ahead and leave your stuff in my car. I’ll take you to your cottage after we are all checked in.” You nod, trying to hide your excitement. 

Once you are done with the receptionist, you get your key and the wifi password to your cottage. While waiting for everyone else to get done, you fiddle on your phone until Nick’s shadow looms over you. Looking up, you are greeted with his eyes no longer shielded by his sunglasses in the dim lobby.

“You ready, Gumdrop? We still have some time before Mom and Dad show up. And I think I remember Dee saying she would call when she was ready to go out,” he concludes, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was nervous about something. But you don’t push.

“All set,” you say, smiling up at him feeling bold enough to wrap your arm around his while you walk out of the lobby.

Dee shouts after you to behave yourselves and tense up a bit while Nick chuckles, seemingly amused by his sister’s thinly veiled comment on two single adults being close. Damn them.

Nick opens the passenger side door for you again, closing it once you are safely inside. He drives to the Margaritaville Cottage where he will stay with his parents during the trip. He instructs you to stay in the car while he just drops his bags off and is back outside in a few minutes.

The next stop is your cottage, called the Treasure Chest. You snicker at the name, thinking it sounded more like a pirate-themed strip joint. When Nick asks what you’re laughing about, you tell him your thoughts on the name of where you are staying. The slow smile that spreads on his face makes you involuntarily clench your thighs, wondering what his days-old stubble would feel like between your legs.

He tilts his head just slightly at you, then turns back to the road, smile still intact. Luckily the drive is short as the cottages are fairly close to one another. Nick parks in the driveway and you both get out and stretch your legs. He comes around and grabs your shoulder bag and luggage, motioning for you to lead the way.

Walking up the steps to the door, you unlock it and are welcomed by the scent of fresh linen. The central air of the cottage is just this side of perfect and you drop your purse on the dining room table. Turning around, you see Nick walking into a room off of the living room.

“Holy shit, you got a King-sized bed,” he shouts from the bedroom.

Walking in, you sit at the foot of the bed next to Nick and start to untie your shoes. He follows suit and turns to you biting his lip, a question at the tip of his tongue.

Facing him, you ask, “What? Do I have something on my face?” 

“No. I, uh...I’m surprised you haven’t asked yet,” he notes. At your confusion, he holds up his left ring finger. A band of untanned skin around the base clues you in that he’s talking about his divorce.

“Nicky, I would never make you talk about it. It can’t be easy in that situation. I mean, I only broke up with Curtis a few months ago and we were only together for six months. I couldn’t imagine how a divorce feels after how long you and Tori were together,” you insist, placing a hand on his knee.

He covers your hand with his and nods. “Mom and Dad are pretty good about it. They don’t ask me how I’m doing with that sad look in their eyes anymore. But Dee? Jesus, when I told her about the incident, she was out for blood. I had to end up calming her down. All because someone broke her big bro’s heart. Love her, but she can get a little carried away,” he finishes.

“This is not to make you feel like you need to share, but you mentioned “the incident” and now I’m curious. Feel free to tell me to shut the fuck up. But I caught Curtis with his tongue down another woman’s throat. I don’t know for sure how long it had been going on or if they had done anything else together, but I knew at that moment that I was done. I am worth more than that. And so are you, Nicky,” you encourage, feeling a bit of weight lift off your shoulders after finally talking about your breakup.

“My situation was similar. Tori had been cheating on me for the last two years of our marriage with her boss. I had a feeling something was up, just didn’t want to believe it was something like this,” he reveals, continuing, “But I am moving on, so to speak. I’m not holding out anymore for her to come crawling back to me with a sad story and all that. Even though I hope that she falls in a sinkhole.”

You both laugh and continue talking, taking your minds off of your breakups. You reminisce about all of the times you’ve stayed on the island during vacations. You giggle over dumb stories of you all as teens in high school, hiding weed from your parents and drinking on the beach til it was time to sneak back into the hotel.

You get an idea and you tell Nick to give you a minute before you go back into the living room to retrieve your purse. Coming back into the bedroom, you pull out a vape pen and wiggle it in front of Nick’s face, a devilish smirk on your lips.

“We’ll just take one hit each and we will be fine. Just a bit more mellow,” you offer, pulling him to the balcony off of the living room. You each occupy a wicker chair and you hand over the device.

“Gumdrop, you little devil,” he takes the pen from you and inhales, closing his eyes and holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it out. The smoke dissipates quickly and you can see the weight lift off of his shoulders. Handing it back to you, he exhales loudly and leans back in his chair.

Putting the tip in your mouth, you hit the button and inhale. Warm vapor fills you and you release the button, holding in the smoke for a beat and then letting it out toward the sky. You put the pen down on the table between you and fold your legs under you, letting your dress cascade down.

Sitting in companionable silence with Nick feels great. Neither of you feels the need to talk while you listen to the sounds of nature around you. People walking around the cottages, cars driving by, and the distant waves from Pamlico Sound make you wish you had gone to the beach earlier.

“Fuck, that was only one hit and I feel like my bones are made of jelly,” you remark, swaying to a song that isn’t playing with your eyes closed.

Nick looks over to you and smiles, “Must be jelly ‘cause jam don’t shake like that.”

You open your eyes and turn to him, your mouth twitches before you break out into uncontrollable laughter. Nick soon follows and you both are taken over by the giggles. You settle down soon enough, still feeling the buzzing calmness of being high.

“The world needs more people like you,” you beam.

“Nah, I like being unique,” he replies, his phone chiming. Picking up a video call from Dee, “Hey Sis.”

“Hey, me and Matt were gonna go for dinner and drinks, you in?” she asks.

“Yeah, that sounds...good,” Nick answers for himself while looking at you to get your answer.

“Ok, well get ready and meet us at Oyster Company. And tell my best friend that she is coming, no ifs, ands, or buts. See you both soon!” With that, she ends the call.

“So...our decision has been made for us. Do you need to change or anything?” Nick wonders, gesturing to your traveling attire.

“If I take this dress off, I am not going out. Besides, I like this dress. I think I look positively adorable. But I will change my shoes to something more comfortable,” you finish before Nick can comment on how he also likes your dress. You pick up the vape pen, make your way back to your luggage, and pull out some flat sandals.

Once you are ready, you make your way back outside and are surprised to see Dee and Matt parked on the street outside of your cottage. “We decided to pick you up. Matt is DD tonight, so we can all get a little loosey-goosey. Plus, I can always tell when Nick is high, so get in losers!”

Nick snorts, and you are mortified to be found out, but you quickly get over it once you are in the backseat of Matt’s Audi Q4. The short ride to the restaurant was spent with Nick’s left leg brushing against your right leg. He was either manspreading or he wanted to touch you and wanted to keep it under the radar.

Either way, you were excited to feel his warmth next to you.

When you make it to the restaurant, you sit at a high table and it almost feels like a double date. Especially when your waitress congratulates Dee and Matt on their wedding while remarking that you and Nick make a cute couple as well. Your face warms up and you suddenly feel like every eye is on you. 

Nick comes to your rescue, answering the waitress with a smile, “My girl’s a bit shy, is all. Can we get a pitcher of beer for the table to start? And also two shots of Crown Royal Vanilla for me and the little lady. Thanks.”

If it was possible, you would have melted through the floor and evaporated, but instead, you just hide behind the menu until Nick pokes his head in.

“That wasn’t to embarrass you, I swear. But I got nervous that she was gonna try and flirt with me, so I dragged you under the proverbial bus with me,” he admits, his lopsided smile only making you want him more.

“Fine. You’ll just have to make it up to me,” you warn, a devious grin appearing on your face. 

You put down your menu just as the waitress comes back with the drinks. Taking both shots, you hand one to Nick. Staring in each other’s eyes, you clink your shot glasses and then tap them on the table before taking the shot. The sweet burn of the liquor warms you from within while Nick’s eyes on you melt whatever nerves you had previously.

A cleared throat breaks your trance, your focus changing from Nick to Dee.

“I talked to Mom and Dad and they won’t get here ‘til Friday afternoon with the rest of the guests. Dad said he had a few things to take care of and not to worry. Of course, I worry tenfold because he told me not to,” Dee interjects, busying herself with pouring beer into her frosted glass.

“Baby, they’ll be here as soon as they can. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything,” Matt insists, moving a strand of hair away from Dee’s face before kissing her.

“Promise to keep me occupied?” she requests, a sinful smile on her face.

“I do,” he jokes, clearly proud of himself for making his fiancée blush.

“First of all, how dare you? Secondly, that was almost too cute so watch yourself,” she laughs.

You roll your eyes at the happy couple and smile, going back to looking over the menu. The waitress comes back to the table and takes your orders. Over the meal, you get to know Matt a bit more and you can see how Dee fell in love with him. He’s intelligent, funny, and charismatic. The way he talks about and to her makes you so happy to know your friend found love.

When they turn to talk to each other, you and Nick spark up a conversation about work. He tells you what he can about working for the government, keeping the specific details to himself. You regale him with stories of your time as a freelance writer. You’ve written for dozens of publications, but you just want to get your original works out there for people to enjoy. 

After mentioning a few pieces you wrote for GQ, Nick expressed interest in reading your articles. You try and downplay your skills, but he presses you for the links. Taking out your phone, you realize that you don’t have his number. 

While you exchange digits with Nick, you are too busy to notice Dee casting a sidelong glance and smiling to herself. You ramble on as you send him link after link of some of your favorites. With your face in your phone, you don’t notice the way Nick looks at you with a mix of pride and hunger.

“Well, I am ready to call it a night,” Dee yawns, getting everyone’s attention, “But I could use a nightcap. Who’s up for a trip to the ABC Store? We can make it before they close.”

Everyone agrees and after the check is paid, you all pile into Matt’s SUV for the quick drive to the liquor store. You browse the aisles for a bit by yourself. Filling up your basket with a bottle of wine, some whiskey, and a six-pack of hard seltzers, you surmise that this will sustain you for the week ahead and go in search of the others.

You find Nick in front of the beer cooler, hard at work trying to decide between a 12-pack of Sam Adams’ Cold Snap and Harpoon’s Long Thaw. You suggest he get both and he agrees.

Meeting Dee and Matt up at the front of the store, you stand next to Nick in line and he laughs at the contents of your shopping basket. He puts his beer up for the cashier to scan and has you do the same, paying for your items. 

A little piece of you feels taken care of and you thank him while continuing to tell him he doesn’t have to. He just shushes you and says you can make it up to him later. Before your mind can think about what that might entail, the sale is rung and bagged. Nick picks up the beer and you grab the bag of your things.

Nick asks Matt to just drop him off at your cottage since he left his car there. His cottage is literally next door, but you’re not exactly gonna deny yourself the company. Dee and Matt drive away and you turn back to Nick. You both laugh nervously and you surprise yourself by speaking up.

“So, um. I was gonna have a weed and whiskey moment to myself, but I’d be willing to share if you’re interested,” you hint, watching as he weighs his options. 

“Lead the way, Gumdrop,” he replies.

He follows you in, closing the door behind him. He puts his beer into the fridge along with your hard seltzer. You put the wine on the counter and take out the whiskey while Nick finds two short glasses in the cabinet. Pouring a generous amount in each one, he offers you a drink and you take a sip of the amber liquid. 

Letting the whiskey sit in your mouth, you savor the hints of vanilla and spice. You reach in your purse for your vape pen and take a hit of it before offering it to Nick. Taking a long pull off of the pen, he exhales and you watch as his shoulders relax. You both take another sip of whiskey and revel in the dual flavors of the weed and whiskey.

You take your glass and the bottle, moving onto the patio off of the living room, and sit down in one of the wicker chairs while Nick takes the other. The conversation comes easily enough. Mostly high thoughts and random memories come to mind. After a while, you put on some music and when 6 Underground by Sneaker Pimps comes on, you can’t help but dance in your chair.

Nick stares while you close your eyes and move your hands to the trip-hop classic. You spend the entire song moving to the downtempo beat and enjoying your crossfade. The trance you were under slowly dissipates as the song ends and Pendulum by FKA Twigs starts.

When you open your eyes, Nick is pulling you to stand up. You’re lost as to what he is doing until his hands go to yours, pulling them to rest around his neck while he holds your hips. As the song continues, you follow his slow lead and sway to the intimate and mesmerizing indie hit.

🎶

You're younger than I am broken

I dance feelings like they're spoken

So my conversation's not enough

So lonely trying to be yours

Running through sliding doors

So lonely trying to be yours

When you're looking for so much more

🎶

By the time the song ends, the heat between you is unmistakable. Your hand tangles in his hair when he pulls you impossibly closer. Mere centimeters separate your lips. All you would need is to lean just one step closer and you’d finally get to taste his kiss.

Nick beats you to it and his hands pull your face to his, crashing your lips together. You can’t hold back the moan that escapes your lips and he swallows it adding in his own grunts and groans. Kiss after kiss, you radiate carnality and passion. 

Breaking the kiss, you watch as he licks his puffy bottom lip. You take in a breath of air and prepare to dive back in but Nick voices his thoughts.

“You are gonna be the death of me, Gumdrop,” he sighs, and at your brows furrowing he continues, “You’ve only been back in my life for a day and I’m already thinking of ways to keep you in it. Don’t hate me, but I think we should chill out, just for tonight. I swear, if you still want this by tomorrow night, I am all yours. But you better be all mine. Please, tell me you can wait for me?”

“Tomorrow night and you’re all mine?” you plead, and he nods.

“Less than 24 hours, baby. Show me that these feelings aren’t just from the substances in our system,” he insists, and you wanna fuck him even more now after he says that.

You nod and he speaks up, “Need to hear your words, baby, like a big girl.”

“Fuck...yes, I can wait. I can wait for you, Nicky,” you whimper and he rests his forehead against yours. 

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, lifting his head from yours, “Now, why don’t we call it a night before I go back on my word? You look so good in this dress and I really wanna be good.”

Agreeing with him, you clean up your empty glasses and move the bottle to the counter next to the wine. Nick pulls you into him one last time, snaking a hand down to your ass and grabbing a hefty portion of it before a hardy slap lands on your left cheek. He only snickers at your yelp and nibbles on your bottom lip. 

“Keep that same energy for me because tomorrow I’m not holding back,” he vows, and if you weren’t leaning into him, your legs would’ve surely buckled. If he notices the tremble go through your body, he makes no mention of it and for that you are grateful.

“Goodnight, Nicky,” you hum.

“Sleep tight, Gumdrop. And do me a favor?” he challenges, at your nod he continues, “Save it for me. I’m gonna take care of you tomorrow, so no need to touch that kitty tonight, right?”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, “Right.”

He leaves and once the door is closed, you lean back against it, your hand going to your neck where your pulse is playing a sick beat against your skin.

Less than 24 hours, you think. You got this.

That night, you dream of grayish-blue eyes and large hands roaming your body.

January 21st, 2024 – Day Two 

You wake just before 10:30 am and are greeted with a good morning text from Nick. He lets you know that he is taking you out, just the two of you. Since Dee and Matt are enjoying a couple’s spa package, he figures it would only be right to hit some of your favorite places on the island.

You are dressed and out the door by noon. Nick takes you to pick up lunch at Taqueria 504 Suazo’s and you drive out to rent a Jeep Gladiator at for a few hours to drive on the beach. One of the best things about this island is that everything is so close. After 5 minutes, you are at your destination. 

Nick drives out a ways past the other people enjoying the off-season and stops about a minute after the last two fishermen you see. Guess he wanted a secluded spot, you think to yourself. While you get the food, Nick grabs the beach chairs and umbrella that he rented. The ocean breeze is agreeable enough, but you are glad that you brought a thin sweater to keep the chill off.

Once you sit down, you hand over Nick’s food and he digs into his burrito while you munch on your fish tacos. When your meal is finished, Nick puts your leftovers in the Gladiator and lets down the truck bed. He beckons you over and helps you sit on the edge and he climbs up and sits next to you while you both look at the water.

“Ya know, the last time we came out here I was just finishing my third year at Virginia Tech. You and Dee were seniors. I remember hoping upon hope that you would apply to VT and I remember you telling me you were accepting a scholarship from Princeton. I just sucked it up and congratulated you. Even though I was hoping you would understand why I wanted you close, I was so proud of you for venturing off on your own. You were always one to go after what you wanted. I just couldn’t stop wanting to be what you wanted,” he confesses, looking off into the water.

“I wanted you, Nicky. Trust me, I did. But I was so afraid that I had a dumb little crush on someone who would never see me as someone other than his little sister’s best friend. The last time I saw you, I thought it was right to push away the idea of you ever having feelings for me. I also may have been afraid of what Dee would say. She’s kind of protective over both of us, ya know?” you finish.

“That girl can be a vicious little thing when she wants to,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “But don’t you think it’s kind of a sign that she had me pick you up from the ferry? And how suddenly today, we have a free schedule to do whatever we want together? I know my sister, and she’s done this before. She matched me up with my high school girlfriend, Beth.”

“Ugh, Beth with the braces and bangs. I used to call her Triple B behind your back. I hated her so much,” you mutter, trying to push the image of them kissing out of your mind.

“Yeah, well. I knew you hated her, but me being an idiot teenager didn’t exactly know that meant you liked me. I just thought you didn’t like her because she was kind of a bitch. She was plenty nice to me, but she could be...a little scary, at times,” he laughs, surprising himself.

“So...you think Dee would be ok with...this?” you say, gesturing between the two of you.

“I just think there is no way she would let us be alone together if she wasn’t halfway hoping it would work out,” he guesses, “Plus, honestly? We’re adults. We’re allowed to go after what makes us happy.”

A slow smile spreads across your face and you pull Nick in for a kiss. You don’t want to jinx it but he makes you happy too. The way he looks at you like you hung the moon, the way he listens to you and asks questions and the way he kisses you? 

It just has to be real.

Packing up your beach equipment, you head back to drop off everything. Getting back into his SUV, you head around the island and view some of the sights. You go shopping and pick up some new knick knacks to take home. Visiting the lighthouse, you take some photos and make sure to bring Dee and Matt here before you leave the island.

Since most of the island’s restaurants are closed on Sundays, you venture to Ocracoke Variety Store and opt for cooking dinner together. After you have all the ingredients you need for a simple fish fry, you head back to your cottage and you and Nick get your hands dirty.

You have him cutting up potatoes for steak fries while you are preparing the batter for the fish. When dinner is ready, you sit at the dining room table with soft music playing in the background. While Nick wanted to take you out for your first date, he could appreciate the quiet setting with just the two of you enjoying each other’s company.

Finishing your meal, Nick takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile and warmth radiates in your cheeks. You hate to admit it, but you wish you had a little liquid courage right now. But the nerves you feel only cement that this is happening.

He pulls you up from your seat, the hunger in his eyes evident from his blown-wide pupils. Leading you into the bedroom, he stops just short of the end of the bed. Standing behind you as you face the bed, he runs his hands down your bare arms and whispers in your ear.

“I cannot wait to take you apart, Gumdrop. But,” he starts, turning you around to face him, “First, I just want to take my time and worship this beautiful body I know you’re hiding from me.”

If he wasn’t holding you up, you would have melted into the carpet. But he’s there with firm hands and a gentle grip. Helping you out of your dress, he lays it on the chair in the corner. Coming back, he admires the white lace bra and panty set that accentuates your body shape.

His lips come back to yours, tasting your desire and wantonness with every kiss. Wrapping an arm around you, he guides you to lay back on the bed while maintaining the liplock. He kisses down your neck and across your collarbone while his hand unclasps your bra and removes it from your body.

Laying a kiss between your breasts draws a quick inhale from you. You can tell he’s proud of himself when he looks up at you while he licks one pert nipple, the other between his thumb and forefinger. He sucks on it as if he could siphon gold from your tits. Switching to the other, he gives it the same attention. 

The noises that come from him as he plays with your breasts are enough to make you shiver. He whimpers when you moan and throw your head back. He groans when he kisses down your belly, stopping to look up at you before he plants a quick kiss upon your covered mound.

He pulls down your panties at such an agonizing speed. Nick has to squeeze his dick through his pants when a string of your wetness stretches from your pussy to your underwear. Spreading your legs apart, he feasts on the view of your lips opening like a flower before him.

He wanted to go slow, he really did. But once he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your swollen nub, he is mesmerized by the taste of you. He goes back and forth between sucking on your button and lapping up whatever nectar drips from you. You can feel yourself inching toward the finish line, and he is right there to talk you through it.

“Fuck...you taste like Heaven...that’s right, baby...let go and cum for me like a good girl,” he commands between licks and kisses.

You’re nothing if not a good listener and seconds later, your walls are clamping around his fingers. You’ve never cum like this before and it washes over you like a warm waterfall. He removes his fingers from your wet opening and sucks them clean before moving up the bed to kiss you.

Tasting yourself on his tongue, you are beyond turned on. You tug at the hem of his shirt and he sits up to pull it off. Running your hands over his chest, you pull at the button of his pants.

“Use your words,” he urges, his hands stopping yours from moving further.

“Need to feel you, Nick. Please fuck me,” you beg, all thoughts gone from your head.

“There’s my good girl,” he replies, standing up from the bed to undress fully. Climbing back on the bed, he kneels between your legs. He strokes himself slowly, eight inches of uncut cock staring you in the face. He squeezes the base and you can tell he is just as excited as you are.

You crook a finger at him and once again, he is on top of you. With nothing between you, you’re impossibly close and you only want to get closer. Your hand soon finds his erection and he hisses at the contact, groaning when you stroke him.

He leans on one forearm while his other hand guides his tip between your lips, gathering some of your slick before entering you. You both groan loudly once he is fully settled inside you. 

“You good, baby?” he asks, anxious to start moving his hips.

“God, yes. Fuck me, Nicky,” you plead, feeling so full when you arch your back.

Foregoing words, Nick retracts his hips and thrusts into you. The wet squelch as he fucks you is music to your ears, just like the way he tells you how beautiful you are in between kisses. He uses your breasts as handholds while he pummels your snatch.

The way he looks into your eyes while he plunges inside you excites you so much that you don’t even notice when a tear escapes your eye. He kisses it away, trailing his lips to your neck where he sucks at your pulse point. At this point, you couldn't care less about a hickey. You just want to be his.

Your next orgasm surprises you and you squeeze his cock from the inside, coating him in your cream. 

“Good girl, coming all over my fucking dick. Feels so fucking good when you tighten around me like that. You are taking me so well, Gumdrop. Yes. You. Are,” he grunts, punctuating the last three words with deep thrusts inside you.

Flipping you over so you are on top, Nick grabs your hips and you start to ride him. You bounce on his cock like it’s the last time you get to fuck. By the mewls coming from him, you are doing it just right.

You feel another climax on its way, slowly building up in your core. Nick swats your hand away when you go to rub your clit. He licks his thumb and massages your neglected pearl until you are unable to hold it in any longer. The dual stimulation is too much and you gush, soaking Nick’s abdomen and your thighs.

“Oh fuck, baby. Such a good fucking girl for me. You must want my cum inside you with the way you’re...riding my dick. Shit, baby, I’m gonna blow. Where do you want it, baby?” he asks, you reply by doubling down on your hip motions.

“Right there, Nicky. Cum inside me, please,” you implore breathlessly.

“Yes, baby. Gonna cum for you, gonna fill you up so good. Ugh, fuck, here it comes,” he whimpers, his hold on your hips so tight to keep you close to him. 

You feel every twitch of his cock, his muscles pulling taut across his arms and chest as he floods your canal. Your name on his lips as he comes down is a badge of honor. Yes, you did that shit.

He pulls you down to kiss him, shallow thrusts keeping him semi-hard before he pulls out. He lays you down next to him, cuddling you close and kissing your forehead. You start to fall asleep but you can feel Nick moving off the bed. Your hand shoots out to grab for him, but he shushes you.

He goes into the bathroom and you hear the faucet running before he comes out with a wet washcloth. Wiping down your sensitive folds, he takes care of you so well. Putting the washcloth back in the bathroom, he comes back and helps you get under the covers and he snuggles in with you.

With your arms and legs entangled in one another, you drift off peacefully.

January 22nd – January 26th 2024 

The days before the wedding are spent enjoying the island with Nick, Dee, and Matt before the other guests arrive. More than once, Dee has cornered both you and Nick, asking embarrassing questions. You both say nothing, feigning ignorance even though Nick has moved into your cottage over the week, abandoning the cottage that he was supposed to share with his parents.

That being said, once his parents do finally make it to the island, he doesn’t even try and act like he isn’t staying with you. The smile on his father’s face says it all, he approves. His mother is far too preoccupied with getting everyone together for the wedding rehearsal to notice anything. 

That is until she catches you and Nick making heart eyes at each other as you stand in for the Bride and Groom in rehearsal. Yes, it was a bit too soon to be playing Wedding Day with a man whose divorce is less than 100 days old.

But when you know, you know.

At dinner, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and you don’t notice Nick following after you. Before you can enter the ladies’ room, a hand on your arm pulls you into the nearby gender-neutral bathroom.

You turn around and are met with hungry eyes before he descends upon you. Turning you around to face the mirror, he puts your hands on the sink and sinks to his knees, his hands roaming under your dress and up your legs until he pulls down your panties. He pulls out his already hard dick and pumps himself a few times before sliding inside you.

“Don’t fucking move, baby. Keep looking at yourself in the mirror, and your hands stay right where they are. You thought you could get away with teasing me in this tight fucking dress,” he breathes, “I want you to watch yourself while I fuck you til you’re dripping for me like the good girl I know you can be.”

When he places his hands on your hips, he begins a steady pace. He watches you in the mirror as your orgasm takes you over without warning. You squeeze him, your walls fluttering and coaxing him to follow you when you cover him in your juices.

But he surprises you when he pulls out and pulls your panties back up. When you turn around to ask why, he only kisses you and whispers in your ear, “I’ll get mine later, don’t you worry.” That only fills you with a little dread, your legs still wobbly as Nick tucks himself away and straightens his outfit. “Can’t have them knowing I just got my dick wet, right baby? See you back out there.” 

He exits the bathroom and leaves you with slick running down your legs and your brain falling out of your ears. And he’s worried about you being the death of him?

You straighten yourself and use the bathroom for its intended purpose. Once back in the banquet hall, you pray to any god who will listen that you don’t look like you just got some dick. You see Nick and Matt in a conversation like he’d been here the whole time. When Dee asks why you look flustered, you lie and say you’re just a bit tired.

Nick overhears you talking to Dee and interjects himself into the conversation, “Why don’t we go get some fresh air? Don’t worry, Sis, I’ll take care of her.” Helping you out of your chair, you both say goodnight to those at dinner.

Nick takes you back to the cottage, pulling you behind him as he walks out onto the balcony. Crashing his lips to yours, his hands scrunch up the fabric of your dress until you feel the night air chill your skin. 

“Hands on the railing, baby,” he says, peeling your soaked panties from you.

Nick’s pushing inside you in the next breath and it’s like he belonged there all along. Holding onto your hips, he begins his onslaught. All you can do is hold yourself up and be happy that no one is walking down this road because fuck they would be able to see you getting absolutely railed without abandon.

Your grip on the railing is faltering as he slams into you and he takes pity on you. He uses the grip on your hips to pull you back so you sit on his lap while he sits in the wicker chair. He moves you up and down on his dick while saying the filthiest things to you.

Once your climax hits, his pace falters and he thrusts up into you. His tip hits your cervix as he pumps you full. He holds you against him and kisses up your neck as you lay back on his chest. For a few moments, all you both can do is breathe and caress each other.

His dick slips free of you and you feel his load dripping from your thoroughly used hole. 

“Come with me back to Virginia,” he whispers, surprising both of you, “Don’t say no just yet. Think about it. We don’t leave for a couple of days. I have not been this happy in a very long while and I think I make you happy too. Just think about it, Gumdrop.”

A million things go through your head at the thought of giving up your life in New Jersey. This was a big step after only a week of playing house. Your brain comes up with so many what-ifs and reasons to not leap. But then one thought sticks, and you smile.

When you know, you know.

January 27th, 2024 – Wedding Day

You were never a big crier, but you shed many tears watching your childhood best friend marry the love of her life. It fills you with hope that everything does happen for a reason. While listening to their vows, you wonder if you could ever make that type of commitment. At that moment, Nick squeezes your hand and you smile up at him. Like he could read your mind, he seems to always know what to do to give you comfort.

Then again, he has known you most of his life. And when you think about it, it has always been him. A distant memory replays in your head of him simply putting a band-aid on your skinned knee when you were nine and he was twelve. Even then, he was there for you with a smile and a friendly hug.

The wedding reception is an all-out party but you expect nothing less from the Fowlers. The music, the food, and the atmosphere are perfect. Dee enjoys herself and is just happy to be married to Matt. And you are so happy for her, to see her without a care in the world. 

Nick focuses on you the entire night, making sure you are comfortable and that you have everything you need. You sit in his lap, effectively confirming any rumors that may have spread about you two. His hand on your knee is warm and you want to sneak out of here and take him to the nearest closet. But he doesn’t let you move an inch once he has you in his clutches.

The wedding photographer snaps a pic of you squealing when Nick plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek. The guests around you simultaneously swoon and groan, depending on their relationship status. Not that you care, you had your man. That’s all that matters.

After the wedding, you and Nick sneak off to a secluded area of the beach to look up at the stars. Taking off your shoes, you don’t mind the sand between your toes. You spend most of the night on the beach, just enjoying each other’s company under the moon. 

You are lucky enough to see a few shooting stars, and you can’t stop yourself from making a wish or two. Wondering if Nick made a wish, you open your mouth to ask him but close it just as quickly. You know his wish already and only you could make it come true.

Coming back to the cottage is bittersweet. The last night of your vacation is spent lying naked with Nick. No sex, just intimate cuddling. You loved how safe you felt in his arms, and you couldn’t deny yourself this feeling.

January 28th, 2024

You’re nervous all morning and Nick tries his best to keep your mind off leaving the island. But all you want to do is spend all day in bed with him.

Saying goodbye to Dee that day is full of teary-eyed hand-holding, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You hug her mother and father and thank them for inviting you. 

Nick drives you to the ferry, thinking for all the world that this is the last time he will see you. But like you continue to do, you surprise him when he’s helping you with your bags.

“So, I have some things to clear up in Jersey, but I was thinking Valentine’s Day is just a couple of weeks away. You can come to my place and we can spend some time together. I may not be ready to move 7 hours away just yet. But I know that I am not ready to be without you. I want you to know that I want this, whatever this is,” you admit, gesturing between the two of you.

“I can be amenable to that. On one condition,” he offers, taking your hands in his.

“And what is that one condition, Nicky?” you press, wondering what else he could want or if your terms weren’t enough.

“When we are with each other again, I get to call you my girl. That’s it. Be mine, and all that?” he laughs, watching as the frown lines on your forehead disappear and a smile grows on your face.

“You had me for a second, Nicky. But, why wait? I’m all yours already. Plus, I’ve already planted my flag in your back pocket,” you tease, snaking your hand around to goose him.

“So that would make me your man, then? And you’re my girl. Makes me wanna ask what made you decide to try this with me?” he hesitates, half wanting an answer and the other half just happy that you said yes.

“Hey, like I always say,” you start, wrapping your arms around his neck, “When you know, you know.”

END…?

A/N: All of the places in this story are real, this is not an advertisement for Ocracoke Island, NC btw. I just loved vacationing here so much, that I wanted to use it in a story lol.

**Tag List** (since I never wrote for Nick, I didn't know who else to tag)

@gummydummy19 @blackwood4stucky

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

My BINGO Card:

[hanadulsetaad]

"In the Warmth of Trust: A Promise Recalled"

BANG CHAN X READER ( Y/N) BREAKUP

TYPE: ANGST, CHEATING, INSECURITY, BREAKUP

PART 2

One year of long distance won't change anything, you thought to yourself while paying the fees for your master's course. You couldn't believe how amazing life had been lately; things with you and Channie were better than ever. You had recently gotten into your dream school in your favourite country. Before leaving Korea for a year, you felt very emotional leaving Bang Chan and your silly little gang; you would definitely miss them. But you couldn't shake the feeling that life had been too good too early, almost as if you had jinxed it yourself.

You couldn't believe what you just read: a text from your boyfriend of 6 years. "Hey, it's not working, okay? I've been meaning to break up with you for the last 3 years. Actually, I never wanted a serious relationship, and I don't even want kids or to get married." As you read the words, you thought it must be a joke. Bang Chan, the most perfect guy in the universe, would never say this. It had to be a prank. You had only been away for a month, and he was texting this? It couldn't be real, could it?

But it was true. Bang Chan and everyone in the gang had blocked you. A few friends of yours who were in a different friend circle told you about rumours that Bang Chan was hooking up with Sana. "In the Span of Two Months, Your Life Went from a Loving Relationship and Amazing Friends to Solitude in a Foreign Land, Without Friends or Channie."

You recall a conversation you had with Bang Chan a long time ago when he introduced you to Sana and everyone else. You remember how insecure you felt, and he said all those reassuring words about how his ideal type was only you. He expressed that he had never been interested in Sana or any other girls and that you were the only girl he wanted.

The memory replays vividly in your mind as you recall sitting with Bang Chan on a warm summer evening, the sound of cicadas filling the air.

You: "I don't know, Chan. I just feel a bit insecure sometimes, especially around Sana. She's so pretty and talented…"

Bang Chan: wrapping an arm around you "Hey, don't say that. You're the most beautiful and talented person I know. Sana is just a friend; you're my everything. My ideal type has always been you, Y/N. I've never been interested in anyone else."

You: smiling, feeling reassured "Really? You mean it?"

Bang Chan: nodding earnestly "Of course, I do. You're the only girl I want, Y/N. I love you."

You remember feeling a warmth spread through you, reassured by Bang Chan's words. But now, those memories feel like they belong to a different lifetime, a different person.

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 12 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, illusions to past self harm/suicide attempt, mentions of miscarriage (all very brief compared to previous chapters), the drug war, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: no surprises here! All the love for my beautiful beta reader and wife @guiltyasdave

Words: 2879

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry

March 3rd, 1995

I think I’m back to where I was before Javier. Trisha has been reminding me that progress isn’t linear, but it’s hard to go back so much. I made it through the grocery store last week and by that marker I’m further ahead. I cried in the car after, but I still made it in. I’m going to try a couple summer classes.

Emily didn’t tell the kids to stop calling Javier. She caught them leaving trailing voicemails from time to time, mostly Ale, sometimes Mateo, never Miguelito. He seemed to know what was going on. That Javier was out of their lives.

Emily couldn’t help but reflect on it. How one person could come into your life for such a short period of time and play such a significant part in it, leave such a big space behind.

Alejandra was the one who asked. When Emily picked her up from school, or when she saw Chucho for riding lessons. He always cast her a questioning look. Emily would shake your head, never asking if he’d heard from Javier. It wasn’t her business. It would hurt to know.

Yet, she didn’t stop replaying that last conversation. He was convinced he wasn’t enough. He reminded her of when he blamed himself for her panic attack. Was there a chance he was as broken as she was? That’s what had bonded them. That’s why he’d felt safe, but how could two broken people be good for each other? Emily had gotten her answer. They weren’t. He’d only hurt her. Set her further back on her goals.

Worst of all, he was hurting her kids. He’d abandoned them too, and Emily wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle that.

Journal Entry

April 18th, 1995

I can’t close my eyes without nightmares in the best times, but the days are easier than they’ve been in a long time.

Jaime had seen the changes in his daughter, the way Javier’s silence impacted her. It was hard to miss. Emily hadn’t told him much about their lack of communication. He knew what the beginning was like, Emily’s questions, the information he could parlay to her, but those had stopped within the first couple of months. The phone bill was lower than he anticipated each time with most calls outbound when Emily wasn’t home, but the kids were. He hated that too. Javier had become an extension of their family. He made Emily smile again, and then he left. He didn’t keep his promises.

Her father still struggled to understand it all. Emily hadn’t told him alot about what happened to her in Mexico either. What he knew was mostly second hand information and the facts, but the day to day horrors she faced, he had limited knowledge about. He wanted to know. He wanted to understand. He wanted to be that person for her, but he understood that Javier had in some magical way, been the person in her life that understood, and for that Jaime mourned his daughter’s loss with her.

As upset as he was with Javier, he found his pride in Emily increased by the day as she continued to work towards her goals, having to re-reach some in the process. As she progressed, it further set a plan in motion.

One Saturday, Jaime pulled Emily out, taking her for a drive. It was rare they got afternoons one on one. Usually one of the kids was tagging along, but this was something he wanted to do just the two of them.

Emily stared out the window, quietly as the radio played softly. Jaime glanced over at his daughter. She hadn’t asked a lot of questions when he pulled her out of the house, but he had the feeling she hadn’t been sleeping as well the last couple of weeks. It made him a little bit nervous about his plan. He wasn’t sure how she would react. They’d only talked about it in theory, as a hopefully one day. There hadn’t been a timetable.

He turned down a residential street, about ten minutes from home. Emily perked up beside him. “Where are we going?”

“I’ve been thinkin.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, lifting above the frames of her sunglasses. “About?”

“You’ll see.”

She let out a long sigh. “Dad.”

“You been having nightmares again?”

Emily’s head snapped toward him in rapt attention. He was never very good at easing into this stuff. “I’m always having nightmares.”

“Em.”

Emily sighed, running a hand through her mop of curls. She looked back out the window, biting on her thumb nail. “I’m doing better.”

“Just because you can go to the grocery store again doesn’t mean you’re not having nightmares.”

She continued to bite at her nail, picking at a hangnail that had developed. “Turns out, I’d been blocking some stuff out. It’s not very fun when your worst memories aren't your worst memories anymore.”

Jaime parked the car on the side of the street, pushing his sunglasses to the top of his head so Emily could see his eyes. She didn’t move hers. “You can talk to me about it.”

“Dad…”

“When you were a little girl. We used to ride around town.” He smiled. “Just driving. You loved sitting shotgun with me. Your mom wouldn’t let you. She said it wasn’t safe.”

Emily chuffed. “That’s ironic.”

“Yeah.” He feigned a smile, nodding along. After a beat of silence, Jaime took the opening before him, the one he’d been waiting for for years. “What happened that she didn't stop it?”

Emily paused. Had they never had this conversation? That first year home was so foggy in her brain. She wasn’t sure what she did and didn’t tell him. Emily swallowed, closing her eyes to keep the tears back. To this day, she wasn’t sure how much her mother had and hadn’t done, and how much was just him.

“She encouraged me… saw a rich man and his interests. She didn’t see any issue with it”. Her nails bit into her palm, Jaime gripped the steering wheel in front of him, knuckles turning white.

“If I had known…”

“I know, Dad.”

“I want to know more if you’re ready to tell me.”

Emily let it sink in, not moving for a minute. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to tell you everything.”

“I’m not asking to know everything. Just some things. You don’t have to keep it bottled up inside.”

Emily inhaled sharply. Her thumb grazed under her watchband. The one that hid her scar. She couldn’t talk about that. She wasn’t ready for him to know what she had attempted. She thought about the events leading up to it. She wasn’t sure her Dad or Anna knew about her miscarriages either. Those were just facts, things that had happened, it didn’t include the trauma that each event was wrapped in, the mounting pile that led up to each event.

“I guess I haven't thought about how much I haven’t told you.”

Emily let her mind take her back for a second, eyes glazing over with tears as she thought about the beginning. The vacation to Mexico that turned into six years of hell. She could never figure out why he’d picked her. There was nothing special, nothing that stood out about her younger self. At least, nothing she could pinpoint, but maybe that’s why he’d picked her.

“Mom was all too happy to have our trip extended indefinitely.”

“You were at his hotel.”

“Yeah.” Emily paused. “When I found out I was pregnant, I told him before mom. He moved me in with him before I even got the chance to tell her. I remember feeling relieved, like I would be okay.” She looked down. “Things weren’t bad at first, but that almost makes it worse. I mean, I was 15. What did I know?”

Jaime watched, silence ringing in his brain, but it was one of the first times it truly clicked for him. He’d struggled to comprehend it at times. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but the thoughts still ran through his head. How she hadn’t seen the signs? How she’d let it happen? but it finally clicked in a concrete way. Emily hadn’t let anything happen. If he hadn’t been able to control or predict Felix, how could a 15 year old girl? He felt a rush of shame that it took this long to understand it. “You didn’t know anything.”

Emily’s head snapped back to him, a vulnerability in her eyes. The one that reminded Jaime of when his daughter was a child.

“You were supposed to be worried about homecoming and algebra. Not raising a baby. Not going through…”

Emily nodded. “I don’t really want to go more in depth right now.”

“That’s okay.” He turned off the vehicle. “Thank you.”

“So you didn’t drive me across town just to talk?”

Jaime shook his head. “I wanted to show you this.” He pointed out the passenger window to the house. A simple, single story rancher. It had a nice front porch and a garage. From what Emily could tell, the backyard was already fenced in. A “FOR SALE” sign sat proudly in the front yard.

“Dad…”

“I saw the listing last week. It’s got three bedrooms and two bathrooms. The backyard sounded like it’s got enough room for a nice garden.”

Emily fought against the panic rising inside of her at the thought of living anywhere else but with her parents. Her chest tightened as she inhaled sharply.

“Hey,” Jaime reached for her hand. “I’m not saying you have to move, or that it has to be this house, but we’ve talked about this, Sweetheart. I think you might be close.”

Emily looked between the house and her father, eyes darting back and forth like an animal not sure which path to take. “I’m not where I was last summer.”

“No, but you’re in a better place than you were last spring. You sat through the whole Christmas program this year. Not just the kids’ portions.”

“Barely-“

“But you did.”

Emily bit her lip. She knew she was doing things she couldn’t do on her own a year ago. She was grocery shopping alone now. She made it through the zoo last week, just her and the kids. She’d pulled them out of school and it had been relatively quiet, but it was still something. Trisha had told her to celebrate it.

She sighed. “No pressure?’

“No pressure.”

She looked back at the house. Something about it called to her. She loved her parents, but she didn’t want to live with them forever. Emily’s fingers found the door handle before she had time to fully comprehend it. “Okay.”

Her dad followed her up, pulling a key out of his pocket. “I know the realtor.”

“Of course you do.” She smiled as he let them in.

The house was empty. It hadn’t been staged yet, but that didn’t matter too much. Emily walked through the house almost silently, like speaking would break the tug in her heart. The living room, dining area, and kitchen all ran together in a loop. The bedrooms sat off a hallway. She knew which one would be Alejandra’s and which one would be the boys’. The master suite had a large bathtub, but the back patio was the selling point. Her swing would fit, and so would a firepit. The backyard spread out, large enough for a garden and a playset for the kids.

She could see it all in her mind. The garden. The kids playing. Looking up at the stars on those sleepless nights, talking to Jav- She cut off the thought. Just stargazing, just her and a bottle of something.

Emily inhaled deeply. She liked this house. She wanted this house. Could she actually be ready to do this? They’d talked about it. Planned for it, but it was still a year earlier than they’d talked about.

“What do you think?” her dad spoke, standing beside her.

“You knew I’d love it.”

He grinned. “I am your father.”

“How would it work?”

“We’re ten minutes away if you need us. Anna and I would take the kids once a week overnight.” He smiled at her. “We’ve got the down payment saved up for you. We paid the house off a couple years early, so we’ve got some more wiggle room to help you out.”

“Dad.”

“It’s yours if you want it, Sweetheart.”

Emily felt tears well in her eyes “And if we do this and I can’t handle it?”

“Then you move back and we’ll rent it until you’re ready.” Jaime said it like it was the simplest thing in the world. Was it really that easy? All she had to do was say yes? That she wanted this?

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

Jaime nodded. “Of course.”

Journal Entry

May 25th, 1995

My birthday is tomorrow. Dad asked me what I wanted to do, and I couldn’t come up with anything. I can’t stop thinking about last year. It felt a lot more hopeful, but there are things this year to look forward to. Ale has a riding lesson with Chucho. I think I’m just going to ride Paz. We’ll have cake when we get home.

Emily closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh air as she sat on top of Paz, taking the familiar paths through the woods of the Peña ranch.The past year ran through her mind. Everything had looked so promising only for it to come crashing down. One single person did that. Maybe it wasn’t fair to pin it all on Javier, but maybe it was. He’d made her feel safe and that opened doors. Doors that shut the moment he pulled away. She was slowly starting to pry them open. Some were budging, others weren’t.

She found herself in the back pasture at the river’s edge. There were no sign of the drug runners at the moment surrounding her with only the sounds of nature. Cattle grazed behind her. The river rushed in front of her as she stared across it. She liked it here. It was quiet, serene.

Paz shuffled under her. A fly landed on the horses’s coat. Emily watched as she twitched the muscle on her shoulder to chase it away. She smiled, running a hand over her shoulder. “You’re such a good girl.”

Paz knocked her head up and down as if in agreement causing Emily to laugh. She leaned forward in the saddle. “Today is my birthday you know.”

Paz turned her head back to look at Emily. She offered the mare a soft smile. “I thought birthdays would be different after last year. I thought-“

She let out a sharp breath as the rest of the thought cut through her mind. She thought Javier would be there for her other birthdays, for the rest of her birthdays. She had expected it, wanted it, anticipated it…

Her eyes fixed on the river as her mind raced to break records on what that meant. Javier had been her friend, her best friend, but something else nagged at her. The expectation of forever, the desire for forever…

Before she could get lost in it, the rustle of trees and crunch of underbrush jerked her out of it. She twisted in the saddle, Paz slowly turning around with her. Gracie’s muzzle popped out of the woods first. Emily furrowed her brow, trying to ignore the anxiety coursing through her.

The rider ducked under a branch as he cleared the tree line. Emily felt the world around her go quiet as her eyes met with soft brow irises she knew by heart.

Javier froze the second their gazes met, pulling Gracie to a stop with a soft “woah.”

Nobody said anything. Neither of them moved, eyes pinned to the other’s. So many things roared in Emily’s ears. He was back? For how long? Why hadn’t he called? She had hoped he would when he got back. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know if she was going to forgive him or not. He hadn’t given her the opportunity to make that choice. He hadn’t given her the opportunity for much. Hadn’t bothered to return her children’s messages.

Even now, he offered nothing. He didn’t apologize for blocking her out. He didn’t even try. He just stared at her like she was some stumbling doe bleeding out. Anger filled her, and before Emily knew it, she kicked Paz forward, jogging past Javier without giving him an opportunity to make up some bullshit excuse or offer up an apology. She was half way back to the house before she realized there were tears on her cheeks.

Journal Entry

May 26th, 1995

He didn’t have anything to say, just stared at me like I wasn’t supposed to be there! He was the one who’s not supposed to be there. What the fuck?

Javier dropped his head with a sigh. He hadn’t expected her. Hadn’t planned through his apology. In Colombia, he’d been convinced he’d done the right thing, but being home, seeing her, he wasn’t so sure anymore, but Javier didn’t know if he could fix this.

……………………………………………………………………

Tag List: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu

@greengirlwurld @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo @missladym1981

[tieronecrush]

hot & heavy

chapter two: couldn’t look away

neighbor!joel x f!reader

chapter 1 / series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

series summary: 

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 6k

warnings: NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), no use of y/n, age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), nanny au, mentions of food/eating, pet name (sweetheart, darling [we're evolving]), polite southern manners (*cough* sir *cough*), feeling familial and self-pressure, masturbation (m), voyeurism, real pervy behavior from joel, descriptions of female nudity, fantasies of p in v sex, lil slightest bit of dirty talk, LATINO JOEL cause it's canon which means there's likely subpar spanish bye!!!

Wednesday morning comes by in a flash.

You’d spent the rest of the weekend after the neighborly barbecue replaying that last conversation with Joel repeatedly, your mind finding a different way to interpret his words each time.

“Well, it’s definitely gonna be somethin’, sweetheart.”

Was he excited to see you more? Was he flirting? Was he glad to have childcare? Was he annoyed about you getting involved? Was he nervous about having you around?

These questions looped in your head like a locked groove on a vinyl record — spinning around and around until someone comes to shut it up.

Which is exactly what happens as you stand on the Millers' porch after your short, polite knock at eight o’clock this morning.

Joel throws the door open in a whirl of nervous energy, his head turned towards a space further into his home. You clock his profile, hooked nose leading your eyes along the line of his face to the slightly patchy facial hair framing his jaw and his plush lips, which are moving as he projects back in the direction he’s facing.

“Got ten minutes until we’re rolling out, Bug! Better have your cereal finished and sneakers ready for me!”

Hearing his drawl, although not for you, makes your brain immediately shut up all of those musings from the last few days. The silence doesn’t last for long — your mind starts up again, but this time, your thoughts are merely consumed by a loop of “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…” when Joel turns to you standing outside the entrance. His lips stretch up at the corners, one side reaching a hair higher on his cheeks. Perfectly set pearly whites flash from between the two pink pillows, and your previous mantra is interrupted with the question of whether or not he had braces as a kid.

Who are you kidding? Joel definitely didn’t have braces. He has to be one of those lucky people that avoided the gawky, awkward preteen years and grew into the perfect specimen of a man that is standing in front of you.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” — that nickname again — “Thanks so much for popping by early to get the details for everything. Past few days have been a little hectic getting settled and fully unpacked, and trying to keep Sarah entertained in the meantime.”

His chocolate eyes squint subtly as the light creases next to his eyes crinkle. The amount of eye contact is verging on too much for you, your insides rumbling like an engine turning over and his presence revving your nerves.

Heat grows at the back of your neck, ready to blame any sweat sheening your skin from the rising humidity in the morning air when in reality it’s all because of him. Your throat hems as you pull on your own smile, years of debutante-like training to save face in uncomfortable situations blessing you at this moment.

“Morning, Mr. Miller. It’s really no problem at all, I’m usually an early riser so I would’ve been up anyways.”

People pleasing liar. Your alarm is usually your mom coming into your room to ask what you want for lunch.

“Please, just call me Joel. C’mon in, sweetheart. I’ve got all the camp info on the pamphlet that’s on our counter, and I figured I’d give you a quick tour of the place so you don’t get the abridged version from the seven-year-old this afternoon.”

A chuckle falls from your lips, stepping inside once Joel moves. He closes the door behind you while you take a quick inventory of the space. The front door leads into a small entryway, a table to your right, and a coat closet to your left. You follow the lead of the shoes piled up under the console table, adding your beat-up baby blue Chuck Taylors to the mix of worn work boots and sneakers, and small, sparkly sandals and velcro tennies.

The entryway opens into the living room, a large leather couch against the front window and a recliner perpendicular to it. The coffee table is an oversized rectangle, matching the sizes of the other furniture. It fits well enough into the space, but you can immediately tell that a man lives here, even without the context you’re privy to. Identical throw pillows don each corner of the sofa and the chair, some throw blankets strewn around. Remotes and DVDs lay across the coffee table haphazardly, a curated collection of Disney originals with action movies like Indiana Jones: The Last Crusade and Curtis and Viper 2. It surprises you to also see the romantic comedy The Goodbye Girl thrown on the surface, a pang of jealousy shooting through your chest at the thought that it was likely rented for a date that Joel had this weekend, or maybe right before he moved.

“This is the living room, obviously. Feel free to hang out here or watch TV or a movie if I’m ever home late. Sarah will probably beg you to watch The Little Mermaid with her at some point, it’s her favorite and I’m sure she’ll want to know your thoughts,” Joel’s hand falls to your back to guide you easily into the room, moving towards the large opening that leads into the kitchen. His touch is featherlight against the cotton of your t-shirt, a barely there pressure that is rippling energy up your back and down the back of your legs.

“It’s my favorite, too, so already got one thing in common,” you glance over at Joel, a grin tugging at your lips when his sideways smile returns, his hand pressing to rest fully against your back as he leads you into the kitchen.

“More of an Aladdin man myself, but I have been known to hum along to ‘Kiss the Girl’ every once in a while,” he confesses with a chuckle before he turns away from you, his hand leaving your back as the dining table in the breakfast nook comes into view. Sarah’s sitting engulfed in her cereal and a picture book laid out in front of her, not looking up quite yet to acknowledge your presence or her dad’s.

“Now I have to hear that sometime. And maybe you can give me a full blown rendition of ‘A Whole New World’.” 

Your smile is innocent, words coated with saccharine and a hint of flirtation. It’s a line that you feel comfortable toeing right now, testing the waters to see what exactly Joel will give back — if anything.

As Joel opens his mouth to respond, Sarah’s ears perk up at the sound of your newly familiar voice. She drops her spoon into the bowl, some milk splashing out onto the placemat underneath the dish. Tiny legs scramble to stand on the seat of her wooden chair, curls bouncing as she wiggles in a full-body wave to greet you.

“You’re here! Daddy says you’re gonna hang out with me after I get home from camp. Are you gonna wait here for me all day? I’ve got lots of fun toys you can play with if you get bored. I can show you!”

Sarah beams excitedly as she bends down to pick up her cereal bowl, her dad reacting after it seems you both have the vision of spilled milk and a drenched little girl falling to the ground as she tries to maneuver herself down from standing on the chair.

“Bug, what do I always say? Butts in seats, not feets. If you put the bowl down, you can sit and get out much easier. Don’t need to be taking you to the hospital instead of camp today, right?”

Joel’s standing behind her chair now, holding the back as he waits for her to set the dish on the table and pulls the chair away from the surface after she’s fully seated again. His hand finds the top of her head once her feet are planted on the ground, flattening the kinky spirals under it.

Sarah rushes away from her dad, crossing the room to wrap her arms around your legs. Your hand finds the same spot as Joel’s had, fingers lacing into the soft curls to push them away from her face as you look down at her with a tender grin. You squat down to be closer to her eye level, sitting on your calves and locking your fingers together in front of you.

“Well, good morning to you too, Miss Sarah! I really wish I could stay all day and wait for you and play with all your cool toys, but my dad has some chores for me to do. However, I will be eagerly waiting for you at pickup today! And then we’ll come back here and hang out and play with all the toys until your dad gets home from work!”

A giddy smile adorns Sarah’s face, her tiny frame jumping up and down excitedly as she giggles. Joel strides over, the sound of his daughter’s excitement tugging at the corner of his mouth. His large arms scoop her up effortlessly, holding her at his hip as he reaches out a hand to help you up from your squat. You take it, rough callouses from the labor of building smooth against your softer palm. A jolt of energy shocks your nerves at the contact, goosebumps pebbling on your skin.

Joel drops your hand gently, wrapping it back around Sarah as he supports her weight. He looks between you and her, a smile still stretched sweetly across his expression.

“Alright, mija, we really gotta get goin’ if we are gonna get you there on time today. Can you please go get your sneakers on for me while I make sure everything is gonna be in order for later?” Joel’s eyebrows raise in questioning, Sarah’s confident nod easing them back down. He swings her out of his arms and sends her toward the front door, eyes snapping back to yours.

“Hopefully she’ll be a bit tired when you get her later, she can be…energetic in the mornings,” he laughs softly and you do the same, following him as he circles around the island to your left.

Laid out on the granite is the camp pamphlet, with the address and pickup times, and instructions detailed inside. Next to it is a list of emergency numbers, including the landline for the site office where he’s currently working as well as Tommy’s number and a phone number labeled with the name Tiffany, scrawled in parenthesis next to it “Sarah’s Mom”. The ten digits following it send a swirl of anxiety in your gut, your mind reeling to what she could be like. He’s never mentioned her mom being in the picture, and it was silly of you to assume that she wouldn’t be. Maybe they were together still, maybe she was out of town for some reason when they moved.

As if Joel is hearing your thoughts out loud, he clears his throat and nods toward the paper.

“She, uh, she’s only got every other weekend right now…I figured I should put her down, y’know, in case I don’t answer or Tommy doesn’t either. Just for emergencies though. Please.”

You nod once at his anxious but clear directions for the phone number, eyes turning up from the list of numbers to meet Joel’s with an affable, thin smile. Joel continues at your understanding, reaching into his front pocket and fishing out his cell phone. He passes it to you with a “New Contact” page open, clearing his throat briefly before fumbling out.

“I, um, I thought we should probably exchange numbers, so I can call you — or y’know, you can give me any updates or text me or call me — if you wanna — with any questions. And I thought I could let you know when I’m on my way home if you’d like.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Miller. Whatever you’re comfortable with, I’m all good. I’m the one takin’ care of your kiddo, so you just tell me what you want me to do.”

The device sits weighted in your hands, eyes leaving Joel’s to begin punching in your information. You hand the phone back to him, your number stored under your name with “Nanny” following it in parenthesis.

You slip your own out of the back pocket of your jeans, giving it to Joel to put his own phone number in. The small brick is dwarfed in his hand, some incredibly quiet grumbles slipping from his lips as he messes up a few letters or digits from his large fingers working the small buttons. Once he’s done, your phone comes back to you with the information saved under Joel (Sarah’s Dad).

As if you really wouldn’t know who he was based on his first name alone.

You deposit your device back into your pocket, looking back at Joel and raising your eyebrows in curiosity.

“Anything else I should know, sir? Allergies, things that Sarah isn’t allowed, should I make dinner for y’all?”

Joel’s eyes fall away and his broad shoulders tense at the word ‘sir’, and part of you wonders if he’s averse to the polite title or if it’s a reaction to you speaking it towards him. Your thighs burn at the latter thought in a new way, adjusting your stance to hide the uncomfortable pressure you feel in your gut as you study him nervously fumbling around with the materials on the counter.

“No allergies, and I, um, try not to give her any sweets as a snack. She’ll ask for ‘em, but don’t feel bad puttin’ your foot down. And you most certainly don’t have to cook dinner for us, sweetheart. I promise I can take care of that once I get home. Might need it some nights when I’m late, but those times, Sarah’ll be just peachy with some mac-‘n-cheese or chicken nuggets.”

“Yes, sir,” your voice has a hint of teasing in it, the phrase rolling off your tongue flippantly and your eyes studying Joel’s reaction. He turns towards you to see the cheeky grin on your face, tension relaxing from his shoulders as he gives you a look. One that says “be careful”, a playful warning of the waters you’re merely dipping your toes in.

“Y’know, you’re real polite, but I promise you can call me just Joel, sweetheart. No need for the niceties.”

You swear you see the flecks of amber in his eyes darken in a flash, hands gathering everything to get it on the fridge to find when needed and leading you out of the kitchen.

The rest of the plans are discussed as Joel adjusts the velcro straps on Sarah’s shoes in the entryway, his back facing you as he tells you about where to find the key that’s hidden on the porch. You’re half listening and slipping on your own shoes, the other half of your cerebrum busy analyzing the way his navy blue cotton t-shirt stretches across his shoulders and rib cage as he’s kneeling down and bending over. The stretch of the material makes the hem ride up ever so slightly to reveal a thin stripe of tanned skin above the waistband of his Levi’s. The jeans are tight at his hips and the position he’s folded into shows off a sliver of the elastic of his gray boxers.

The image of him tight, taut, and bent over is reeling in your mind and intensifying that pressure you felt a few minutes before, only this time it travels from your gut to between your legs. The knowledge of the feeling in such an intimate area makes your cheeks and neck warm with anxiety, praying to whoever’s out there that Joel can’t tell what you’re thinking about him.

Once Sarah’s shoes are fixed and the straps of her Blue’s Clues backpack are slipped onto her shoulders, Joel stands up again and claps his hands together.

“C’mon, Bug. We gotta get goin’, can’t be late. Vamos, mija!”

Sarah jumps excitedly and looks up at you, stepping over to hug your legs.

“See you later!”

You fluff her curls, a soft smile finds your lips at her excitement to see you again.

“I’ll pick you up, and we can have all the fun before your dad gets home,” you send her an exaggerated wink, your eyes locking with Joel’s as Sarah’s arms pull away and she jets out of the front door that Joel is holding opening. He gestures for you to go ahead of him with a nod of his head, a crooked, closed smile donning his face.

The seven-year-old has bolted to the truck in the driveway, and you turn back to say a quick goodbye to Joel. Without realizing how close he was to you, your shoulder bumps his firm chest and his hand grabs for your waist as you stumble back. His large palm radiates warmth from its spot on your side, brown eyes fixed on yours as his fingertips dig into the flesh under your shirt. From this close distance, you get a hint of mint from his toothpaste and that familiar scent of bergamot and cedarwood from his cologne. It’s an intoxicating mix, your exhale hitching in your throat and a quick inhale following it to gather as much of his scent as possible. It feels comfortable, safe even, with his hand on you and his breath intermingling with yours. His tongue pokes out briefly to wet his lips, his hand falling to his own side when you take a step back and attempt to steady your breathing.

“You alright there, darlin’?”

Darlin’, that’s a new one.

Thuds of your pulse fill your ears while your head moves in a nod to cover up the electric shock of adrenaline that Joel has sent through your body.

“All good, thanks, Joel. Sorry for bumping into ya, didn’t realize you were right there. I was just gonna say goodbye, or really, see you later.”

“I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Have a good day, and feel free to text or call if you have any questions,” his departing words are punctuated with a gentle smile, the crinkles next to his eyes growing deeper and a dimple appearing on his right cheek.

The sight makes your pulse grow louder in your ears, washing out other morning sounds of birds chirping and cars rumbling to life in everyone’s driveways. A short nod from you ends the conversation, and your feet step back and turn to walk down the two steps from the Miller’s porch to the front walkway. Joel follows behind, his work boots much louder against the wooden stairs. He calls out to you to grab your attention before you make it out of the driveway, passing off the extra car seat he grabbed from his garage before you arrived, explaining briefly how to install it in your backseat for Sarah; you take the plastic and felt safety device and head back home to wait out the hours of the day until you see him again.

Rounding his truck, Joel moves to get his daughter into the car and glances back at you at the same moment you do. Quickly, you turn right back around, your legs speeding up to carry you across your lawn to the open garage door of your house. Risking it, you turn back over your shoulder just once more to see Joel climbing into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition. He effortlessly reverses from his driveway, and as if he can see you in his rearview mirror, he throws a hand out his open window in a short wave to you before he lurches down the street.

Pickup went smoothly, Sarah found you outside in the carpool lane and ran up to get into your SUV. Once she was buckled in securely, you drove out from the park district buildings, the adorably high-pitched voice of the seven-year-old in your backseat rambling off all of the activities that encompassed the first day of camp.

You ask her questions, hearing all about the nature explorations they went on, the other kids in her group, her counselors, and more. The conversation carried over from the car, to snacktime, and even into the scenarios that Sarah had her Barbies act out.

Hours flew past, and before you knew it, your phone buzzed shortly on the wooden coffee table. Setting the blonde Barbie in your hand to sit down with the others that Sarah was playing with, you grab your device and read the message from Joel:

On my way home — hope you two have been having fun

The message is straight to the point for the most part, but the slightest idea of him thinking about you this afternoon nests its way into your mind and your heart, igniting a kindling from inside you. Sure, he was probably nervous about your first day on the job and how Sarah would be getting along with you, but that was still a thought about you.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Small mannerisms of Sarah’s reminded you of the tiny observations you had made of Joel in your limited time together. A brow furrowed into a deep crease with playful annoyance when you had veered from the story that Sarah was telling with the Barbies, the small dimple in her right cheek when she giggled at something funny you said, the soft demeanor she kept when playing with her baby dolls — clearly mirroring the care her father showed her.

It was incredibly adorable. And also incredibly frustrating, as it meant that Joel had infiltrated your mind for the whole afternoon when you were hoping your time nannying would give you a reprieve from your little schoolgirl crush on your neighbor.

Clicking the buttons quickly, you shoot a text back to him before your attention is dedicated to Sarah again, who’s found her dress-up clothes in her closet from upstairs:

We’ve had a blast, at least I have :) See you soon!

You hit send before you can overthink the wording, your phone finding its place back on the living room table as you follow Sarah to the bathroom to look for her clips to do her “princess” hair.

As you place the last rainbow-colored clip in Sarah’s hair, the front door closes with a click. Boots tumble against the tile near the entrance, the sound pulling the little girl’s attention from the mirror, a smile beaming on her face as she runs to greet her dad.

“Hi, Daddy!”

A smile finds your own face as you follow out from the downstairs bathroom, watching as Joel grabs for his daughter, swinging her up into his arms to be held like a baby. His genuine grin tugs at your heart, the wholesome vignette playing out with a rose-colored tint in your eyes.

“Well hello there, Princess!” Joel sets her tiny frame down, bowing graciously in front of her before giving her a quizzical look, “Pardon me, Princess, but have you seen my daughter? She’s about yay high, pretty curls, killer smile. Responds to the name Bug, or Sarah.”

You can’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you lean against the wall, arms crossed over your chest as you look on. The sound pulls Joel’s eyes to meet yours briefly, a smile flashing with a wink before his faux confusion returns to his daughter in front of him.

Sarah’s giggles fill the room, her light voice informing her father between bouts of laughter, “Daddy, it’s me! I found my princess costume and we did my hair all pretty.”

A gasp from Joel cuts through the giggles, mock realization washing over his expression.

“Oh my goodness, it is you! Well, don’t you look pretty as a peach, Bug!” He presses a kiss to her forehead standing to his full height as Sarah runs into the kitchen to grab her artwork from camp that she’s been waiting to show off.

Joel’s gaze meets yours again, a warm smile raising one side of his mouth as his eyes glint with something that looks like a mix of exhaustion from work and relief to be home.

“Hope there wasn’t too much trouble with pickup or here at the house,” he pats his pockets with a concentrated look on his face, finally feeling what he was searching for and fishing it out of his dirt and sawdust-covered jeans, “I, uh, got this made on my lunch break. Figured it’s easier for you to have your own so that the emergency one can stay there. Lord knows Tommy or I need it too often for it to go missin’.”

He strides over to close the gap between the two of you, keeping about a foot and a half of space. His hand holds out the object, your smaller one extending your palm out to receive it. A gold key drops into your hand, your initials Sharpied on in his handwriting, and a rush of exhilaration tingles off of the metal and down your spine.

Joel’s fingers brush your skin as he pulls away, your stare lifting from the key to meet his. A smile pulls at your lips, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip before you speak up for the first time since he’s gotten home.

“Should I be expecting any late-night calls? Y’know, when you forget where the emergency one is or if Tommy’s lost it?”

One of his hands lifts to rub at the back of his neck, a slight cringe on his face as he chuckles.

“I have to say, I wouldn’t put it past me. But do not feel obligated to come ‘n help me, I promise I’ll survive a night sleepin’ in the truck. Wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for waking you up, darlin’, just 'cause I was bein’ a dumbass.”

“And I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself for letting you have a bad night’s sleep, sir. I’d come at any time.”

Joel’s throat clears when Sarah’s rushed footsteps pad back into the room, large craft paper paintings in each of her hands.

“Here, look Daddy! I painted these today — my group leader said they were beautiful.”

Before both paintings end up in his hands, he lays a hand on your shoulder, completely enveloping it in his warmth and giving you a light squeeze. His eyes shift to the collar of your shirt and look away quickly before he nods toward the front door.

“Go on and head out, sweetheart. Don’t wanna keep you from any plans ya got. I’ve got a dinner for a Princess to whip up and museum-quality paintings to analyze.” 

You're the one to break the eye contact he’s been holding, stepping away from his touch and feeling the chill of the air on your bare shoulder. Sneakers slip back on your feet, not bothering to do up the laces when you’re merely crossing your adjacent lawns to get home. Stopping short of the front door, you turn back to see Joel already staring, Sarah passionately explaining the painting that he is holding.

“Night, Sarah. Night, Joel. See you both tomorrow!”

“Have a good night, darlin’. Sleep well, see you tomorrow.”

His words wrap you in a cozy blanket, his drawl echoing in your mind as you send him one last smile before shutting the door and exhaling deeply.

It’s gonna be a long summer.

With his daughter asleep in her bed after an hour of reading chapters to her from the latest obsession, Matilda, Joel is relieved to finally have a moment to himself. He’d spent another hour of his evening in front of the TV, attempting to watch the rerun of the latest episode of The Sopranos, before he decided to call it a night and head to bed earlier than usual. It was only about ten o’clock, but Joel is usually one to stay up until at least midnight before he can shut his brain off from all of the stress he’s under day in and day out.

Taking care of Sarah, working long and laborious hours, and keeping his brother under his thumb so he doesn’t go off the deep end. And these days, he’s added the stress of behaving around you. His first glimpse of you the day he moved in made his heart rate pump faster, and when your mom suggested you as a nanny for Sarah, it excited him to be able to see you more and get to know you. He hadn’t thought about the close proximity he would constantly be in and the way you consumed his thoughts when he was away. And he definitely — no absolutely cannot act on the desires he feels towards you, especially as, well, your employer. It would be completely inappropriate. Your parents trusted him to give you a safe summer job, and he really doesn’t want to be driven out of his new home with torches and pitchforks if they found out what he thinks about you. What he wants to do to you.

It all gets to be too much, and tonight is a night that the exhaustion has caught up to him. He wants to relax — turn his brain off for a moment to be able to succumb to sleep, which is why he finds himself dragging his heavy limbs up the stairs to his bedroom.

He shuts the door behind him softly, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he crosses the room. Once the fabric is dropped off of his arms, he’s stood in front of his window, glancing out into the dim night with the glow of street lamps illuminating the sidewalks. Pulling his gaze back up and into his room, he does a double take at what he caught a flash of.

Your bedroom window.

He hadn’t noticed that he faced your room until this moment, probably from the late nights he’s accustomed to spending downstairs on the couch until the last possible second. You must always be asleep, or at least have your lights out when he climbs into bed.

Tonight, however, he can see in. He can see you.

And he feels like a fucking creep.

You're standing unknowingly exposed to him in your open window in your bra and panties, clearly getting changed to head to sleep. He sees the full view of the soft pink bra he’d spotted earlier today when a strap peeked out from the collar of your t-shirt. He felt like a perv staring at it then, imagining what the whole thing looked like against your skin, but this was a whole new level. 

His legs are cemented in place while his brain is screaming at him to look away, to go to bed, and forget all about your baby pink bra and white lace-trimmed panties. All the while, he can feel the crotch of his jeans tightening as he watches on with wide eyes and saliva flooding his mouth as he voyeurs.

Yeah, his brain isn’t gonna win this one over his dick.

Your back is to the window now, and to him, having turned around to face the inside walls of your room, and your hands reach around to unclasp your bra. You let it slip from your shoulders, catching it at the ends of your arms and turning to the side to set it on your bed.

Warm yellow lamplight backlights you, the silhouette on display for him showing off the curves of your breasts and hips, the soft lace of your panties shining in the low light. Joel feels the strain of his jeans to the point of discomfort, and despite him feeling like a complete debauchee, he justifies his decision of what he’s about to do by telling himself that it’s a much better alternative to him succumbing to his desires to have you — it’s better to observe from afar and relieve some tension than it is to make you uncomfortable and lose his childcare for the summer.

Hands grip the back of the desk chair near him, sliding it up to the window and angling it to have a good view while being able to stay hidden. He unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles before sitting in the chair, palming himself as he watches you move around your space without a shirt on.

He reaches into his boxers, pulling his cock out and letting it sit against his stomach as he continues to watch you. Precum dribbles onto the dark curls of his happy trail, the ache in him too strong to ignore. He spits in his hand and starts to stroke himself, a soft groan falling from his lips as he watches you move closer to the window, the night light illuminating you in a blue hue as you lean over whatever surface is in front of your window.

He watches as your breasts move from the motion, his hand speeding up as another moan slips from his mouth. He’s desperate to close his eyes and imagine you under him or on top of him, but he cannot draw himself to look away, especially when he sees a bottle of lotion in your hands.

You pump some out and start to apply it to your body, starting with your arms. He studies your hands gliding over your skin, rubbing and buffing the moisturizer in. You move back towards your bed, lifting your legs to massage the lotion in one at a time. He wishes he were there, kneeling next to you to get a view of your clothed cunt in the innocent white lace of your underwear. An image of what you could look like flashes in his head — wet, spread, and ready for him. He envisions his hands where yours are and your hand where he is working his cock, breath catching in his throat as you reach your breasts and abdomen.

Envy crawls in his chest, a growl sounding from his mouth as observes you getting to touch yourself in ways he’s been imagining since he met you. All he wants is to feel your soft skin pressed all over him, to feel either your hand, your mouth, or your sweet pussy (it has to be sweet, there’s no way it couldn’t be based on that syrupy voice of yours and those candied endearments towards everyone) wrapped around his cock instead of his own fist.

Your hands slip under the waist of your panties to moisturize the skin underneath there, and the vision of you so close to touching your own cunt sends his fist in a wild pace up and down his length, his head rolling back with a deep but restrained groan.

When you come back into view, you’ve got a t-shirt in your grip and his hand continues feverishly as he whispers, no whimpers, to himself, pleading with you to leave yourself bare for a moment longer.

“No, no, no, c’mon, darlin’. Only take a second, pretty please, baby,” his breaths come out heavy, the humidity of it adding to the sweaty stickiness across his body, “Fuck — Quiero metertela, quiero dartelo. (I want to put it in, I want to give it to you.) Gonna make me come just from lookin’ at you, you don’t even know. Such a pretty girl.”

As if you heard his begging, you drop the shirt onto the bed and climb onto it on your knees, bending over and supporting yourself with one hand as you reach for something at your nightstand that’s out of sight for him. He doesn’t even care to know what you could be preoccupied with, thankful for whatever the distraction was for making you get on (almost) all fours for him. At least, he thinks of it as for him, despite you not knowing exactly what he’s doing across the way.

The guilty thoughts of his depravity fall to the wayside as he gets closer to the edge, his mind racing with the phantom feeling of fucking into you from behind in the exact position he can see you in. The only sounds in his room are his labor breathing and the glide of him fucking his own hand, slaps of his arm hitting against his thigh repeatedly.

As if on cue, you sit back on your knees to give him a full view of your form again as he comes, your name rolling off of his lips. Short ropes of white spend coat his fingers as he slows through his orgasm, whimpering while his eyes screwed shut tightly. When they open again, he watches you slip the t-shirt over your head and shut your lamp off, leaving Joel sitting in the dark with only the streetlights casting enough illumination for him to see the mess he’s made of himself while being a Peeping Tom.

It’s gonna be a long summer.

series taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn @sunakochansama43 @elissaaa @felicityofbakerstreet @atinylittlepain cont'd in comments

[megalony]

Hi, I found your site last week and are going through everything you've written. I especially loved the latest fic and i have some ideas for a part 2 if your interested.

Idea 1:

Readers' parents started to notice some things about evan, and they tried to warn reader about it. Evans then manipulated and twisted it, so the reader cuts all contacted with them. He's saying stuff like " they will only bring you harm, and they'll never really like you" always favoured Cathy, " and I don't want you to get hurt and I'm the only one who can take care of you. Reader does as evans says.

Idea 2:

After the incident at her parents, readers anxiety skyrocket. Making her even more anxious, which again fuled evans' protective side. And he's even more controlling over the reader ( ofc without her knowledge) cause she's so dependent on him. He even brings readers their own food and drink at the Christmas party at the station. Can't have anybody try anything, he don't fully trust his colleagues' cooking and Eddie's bartender skills)

Idea3:

Someone at the anuall summer party from another firehouse tried to talk to the reader. She only replayed to him cause she wanted to be polite. When bucky comes back from the toilet, he sees red. Some dude is trying to talk to his fiance. Like who does he think he is. Bucky marches over and pushes the guy away, and threatens him. Eddie has to literally drag him away before things escalated. Reader goes after and wants to make sure Evan is okay. He then talks to the reader, half angry about not talking to other people without him there, cause you never know the intention behind. And he's the only one who can look after her and make sure she doesn't get hurt. And with her social anxiety and everything, it's best if she wait for Evan or leave when someone tries to talk to her when he's not there. Reader gets slightly afraid and uppset when Evan gets angry. And agrees to what he says. She always does.

Idea4

Evan comes back and actually hurts Cathy, and she's too afraid to say anything. So when she ends up in the hospital, Cathy says she doesn't remember anything and just wants to move on with her life. And of course, bucky is threatening Cathy to not say anything or next time she's dead.

Hello!

Oh my god thank you so much for sending these ideas in they are so detailed and amazing and just what I needed to get the second part going.

So, I loved them all and wanted to incorporate all of them so I tried to combine them into the second part (I do want to use your 4th idea for another part too).

I hope you like the second part, please let me know what you think.

And I'm trying to come up with a new Dark! Buck idea about him with an established family. To see how controlling and dark I could make him around reader and their kids as I haven't fully explored that idea yet. And if you have any ideas for this I would love to throw some ideas around with you.

I hope you like it!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Watch Your Back

Part 2

[yns-world]

'Till Death Do Us Part

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x Fem!Idol!Reader part 1 and part 2 A/N: V goes by she/her pronouns. Y/S/N = Your Stage Name Bold Italics is Johnny speaking. WC: 1.5k this was requested by the lovely @diabolusdevia, i hope you enjoy :)

When V was first introduced to Johnny’s engram, she was overwhelmed with this indescribable rage; a rage so deep and sharp that she was afraid it would kill her right that second.

But like the waves of a summer storm, the pounding rage gave way to a duller, more prominent feeling in the background— a profound feeling of anguish that consumed her.

The anguish was followed with memory after memory of a woman— a woman that performed side-by-side Johnny, a woman that was curled into his side— those memories gave V the tiniest bit of hope, before those feelings were ultimately crushed by the images of the same woman crying and lashing out.

V’s eyes flicked back and forth as she processed the memories, and she felt and heard everything that Johnny was feeling in those moments. She could feel the nostalgia that Johnny experienced, she could feel the love and adoration he still felt for her even when the woman was pushing him away.

The memories of the woman faded out, and all that was left was an empty gray space of time. V expected Johnny’s last memories to be of the Arasaka bombing, but no. 

Johnny’s last memory was of a bird’s eye view of that same woman, walking out of the very tower he would destroy. 

In that memory, V’s heart was torn to shreds before they were spat in hate and resentment.

“Y/N L/N.” V whispered, and she immediately felt the aching of her heart.

“Y/N L/N, Y/S/N, Mother of Cyberpop, key to my heart. Architect of my death. That heartbreaker goes by many names.” Johnny reiterated, appearing next to V and lighting a cigarette.

“I think that bombing is what killed you but okay…” V thought to herself, but only earned a scoff from Johnny.

“I can see and everything that pops up in your mind, wise ass.” Despite the harsh tone, Johnny carried a longing in his own mind. 

Johnny would never admit it to himself, but V was witnessing every fleeting thought that Johnny experienced every waking second, and they were all immersed in Y/N.

Where V had thoughts of survival and how to get rid of the terrorist in her head, Johnny could do nothing but replay the last few years of his life. And among those few years, all he thought about was Y/N.

It was nonstop, V couldn’t even hear her own thoughts. 

“Enough!” V shouted, startling the both of them. “It’s been 40 fucking years! You still haven’t moved on?”

“It hasn’t been 40 years for me. The Arasaka bombing happened just yesterday. Just yesterday I saw her for the first time in a year.”

V rubbed her face in agony.

“Does Y/N still make music?” Johnny’s question took V by surprise, but what was even more shocking was the twinkle in his eyes at the thought of listening to Y/N’s velvet voice once again.

“Not that I know of.”

And just like that, Johnny’s hope shriveled up and was tossed to the side just like the rest of his emotions.

“How about we go find her and ask her yourself?” The words just slipped out of V’s mouth without a second thought and her heart jumped at the worst case scenario. The last thing she wanted to do was upset an already ticking terrorist.

Johnny lifted his head and looked at V with a stone-cold face and for a second, V thought he was plotting to kill her right then and there.

“Alright kid. Let’s do it.”

It didn’t take a visit to a fixer to find Y/N, a simple internet search was all that was needed to find out that she was residing at a nursing home out in the countryside by the sea.

It was a 10 hour drive to get there, but Johnny didn’t let V have a wink of sleep once they arrived. 

Sleep deprived and urgently being pushed through the entrance, V walked up to the front desk.

From the outside, the residence was a beautiful building that sat by itself on acres of open land. The sea was only a few hundred feet from the building, and there were miles of beautiful grass dotted with trees. The wind carried the smell of salt and tranquility, and eased both the minds of V and Johnny.

At the front desk of the lavish lobby, V introduced herself. “Hi, I’m here to see Y/N L/N.”

The secretary’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Oh? And what is your relation?”

V’s brain started scattering around for a response before she sheepishly responded. “Uh…I’m a family friend.”

The secretary sent a suspicious look but didn’t prod further.

“Right this way.” The secretary ushered V—and Johnny—to follow her outside to the backyard. 

Sitting on a bench under a tree, an elderly woman stared out at the gray sea.

“Ms. Y/N, you have a visitor.” The secretary calmly approached the woman, to which she glanced over at the visitor in question before turning her gaze back to the sea.

“She’s a quiet one, doesn’t speak much.” The secretary noted before leaving them alone.

V took a step forward, but Johnny stood back, frozen.

With a glance back at Johnny, V spoke.

“Hi, Ms. L/N. I’m V.” 

Seconds passed with silence. V thought she hadn’t heard her and was about to repeat herself when a soft voice spoke out.

“V…short for Valerie?”

Under normal circumstances, V would lash out at the mention of her real name, but this time she kept her mouth shut. 

“Yes, Valerie.”

A few more seconds, and then— “What a beautiful name.” The ends of Y/N’s lips curved just slightly into a hint of what could be called a smile, but was gone with the next wind.

“Uh..thanks.”

“Sit, child.”

V did as she was told, and looked back to see Johnny but he was already gone. Weird.

Neither of them spoke for the next few minutes, and V relished in that peace. There was no expectation to fill the silence. The two women stared out at the sea, lost in their own thoughts. 

Except V’s thoughts were not her own, rather they were Johnny’s scatterbrained anxiety running a mile a minute. 

It was clear that Johnny wasn’t coming out anytime soon, and there was no point in waiting it out. Might as well rip the band aid off now.

“This might sound crazy…but just hear me out,” V took a deep breath before continuing, “Johnny…Johnny Silverhand is technically alive…” V didn’t know whether to stop or tell her the full truth, but there was no point in omitting anything now. “His soul resides in an engram that’s in my head.” V pointed to the microchip slot behind her ear.

V wasn’t expecting an immediate response, but minutes had passed without a reaction and worry began to brew in both V and Johnny.

“This was a stupid fucking idea. Why the fuck did we come here in the first place. I doubt she even remembers me. Why would she remember me? Why would she even want to remember me? After the hell I put her through-”

Johnny’s usual cold persona was beginning to crumble and it felt worse than the shitty attitude V had to put up with. 

But breaking through Johnny’s spiral was that same soft, steady voice.

“I believe you.”

V was gobsmacked and Johnny immediately materialized next to her. 

“What- how-” V stammered.

“You just have a feeling about these things.” That same, small smile graced Y/N’s lips, but this time, they were accompanied with the flow of tears. “Oh, Johnny.” She whispered.

“I’m right here, baby.” Johnny was kneeling in front of Y/N holding onto her knobby, fragile hands. His own face stained with parallel trails of tears— trails of the pain he’s endured, with and without her. 

“You want to tell her anything?” V thought to Johnny.

At the moment, Johnny made firm eye contact with Y/N but spoke through V’s mouth.

“I’ve never stopped loving you, my sweet little rockstar. Not once, not ever.”

V and Johnny sat on the bench, underneath the tree, closest to the sea.

Johnny’s fingers brushed over the newly-made plaque—

“Y/N L/N, Y/S/N, and key to our hearts.”

“Guess we gotta give her a drink at the Afterlife, now.” V stated with a sniffle.

“It’s the least she deserves.”

“One Y/S/N and One Johnny Silverhand, coming right up!” Claire shouted before heading back to get the ingredients.

“Pink lemonade, a dash of vodka, and a pretty green lime.” Both Claire and V recited at the same time.

“Enjoy.” Claire smiled and pushed her Y/S/N’s drink.

“To Y/S/N and Johnny, the coolest rock stars to have ever lived.” V clinked glasses with Claire and threw her head back. 

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging since it helps my account! :) DON'T BE A GHOST READER!!!! i would love to hear your thoughts and opinions, and comments are what keep writers going <3 i'm open to cyberpunk requests so feel free to send me one &lt;3 as always, have a great day and i'll see y'all in the next one <3

[bassettmemes]

THE GOLDEN YEARS (ALBUM) SENTENCE STARTERS ↳ lines from joshua bassett's debut album, the golden years ↳ ↳ the golden years (single) sentence starters can be found here

BITING MY TONGUE.

"silence speaks louder than I ever could"

"i can't breathe, i'm suffocating on my words"

"maybe the story that's been left unsaid is gasoline just waiting for the perfect match"

"i'm biting my tongue, avoiding the words i cant take back"

"i just wanna love and not look back"

"forget the promises we cant keep"

"i'm begging you to set me free"

"can you blame me for that?"

"you're running your mouth, it's wearing me down"

"i'm screaming out, but you won't hear a sound"

"cause tearing you down, oh, nobody wins"

"im trying to be better than i've ever been"

"hope you got all that you wanted"

"i don't want revenge"

"i won't hurt you how you hurt me; i want this to end"

DANCING WITH TEARS IN MY EYES.

"i lied when i said i'm fine"

"im at the disco dancing with tears in my eyes"

"dancin' with a cigarette, drunk on a Sunday morning

"standin' on the edge is somethin' we'll regret"

"makin' a mess of the bed we made"

"playin' with fire we already tamed"

"romeo and juliet, we shoulda known better"

"i caught your eyes under the lights and now I'm spinnin'"

"i cry every time our song comes on"

"it breaks my heart, dance in the dark, so you don't see me fall apart"

"everybody's askin' if i'm happy for ya"

"nothin' to regret, we went our separate ways"

"it's eatin' me alive to see you doin' better"

"maybe more wine will help me forget ya"

"seein' you tonight, i'm right back where we met"

DON'T LET ME DOWN.

"don't you remember early september? fooling around, didn't know any better."

"our ship was sinking, we held on as long as we could"

"i cried on your shoulder, now i don't know you"

"i keep replaying it over and over"

"wanna go backward, don't know if I can this time"

"we made a mess, but we were just kids then"

"gave it our best, we fell off the deep end"

"i can't forget the way that you held me, dear"

"so, you say you want me again; don't you remember the hell wе were in?"

"i haven't been thе same since you left"

"half of my heart is still there in your hands"

"if you pick me back off the ground, don't let me down"

"how do I know that you actually need me?"

"you say it's different, i wanna believe you"

"holding our hope in, maybe this time is for real"

"might be naive, but maybe we need this"

"nobody looks like you do"

"don't you tell me that you want me just to walk away now"

"don't you tell me that you love me if you don't know how"

"don't you turn your back on me and we can figure it out"

CHERRY BLOSSOM.

"cherry blossoms on your sundress, summer skin on the emerald grass, you pick a flower and pray it lasts, seasons falling away too fast."

"yeah, we talk too much, we fell headfirst under the sun"

"we're growing up but we're still young enough to crush"

"oh my cherry blossom, say you're staying through the autumn"

"you pack a picnic, i'll pick you up"

"is it too early to call this love?"

"some kids kissing in the sun"

"i'll never ever get enough"

CIRCLES.

"merry-go-round, we've been here before"

"your carousel hell got me chained to the floor"

"i've been falling for your sweet seduction"

"can't believe you're fooling me again"

"i've been running for my life"

"i end up at the starting line"

"i've been wasting all my youth on you"

"lovesick spinning 'round and 'round"

"like a broken record wearin' out"

"all this time i wasted chasin' you"

"yeah, girl, you got me going in circles"

"sweet as a peach, you're soft to the touch"

"you're making me bleed but calling it love"

"you pull me close, but keep me at a distance"

"where do i go from here?"

WILDFIRE.

"burnin' pancakes while we're dancin' in the kitchen, singin' to our favorite song, now I'm standin' in the ash and broken dishes"

"wonderin' where it all went wrong, now there's nothing left of you and me"

"it was heartbreak to the third degree"

"we had a gold and it was good until it wasn't"

"now the sirens, they sound, all of the walls are falling down"

"here's nowhere to run, darling, we'll never make it out"

"we're too close to the sun, we let it burn then called it love"

"there's smoke filling our lungs"

"would you look what we've become?"

"you asked for a light, now we started a wildfire"

"we were reckless, we were young and we were stupid"

"got too high to see the warnings signs"

"playin' innocent, we knew what we were doin', and two wrongs don't ever make a right"

"don't look away, darling, there's nothing left to save"

"just kiss me goodbye"

"we're not gonna make it out alive"

"It's far too late to save us, this flame here is to dangerous"

"don't say it's all okay, love, it's too much"

"just face it, love, we're dying"

"no point in even trying, it's too much"

"now we started a wildfire, love"

LITTLE RITA.

"she's crying on the phone, she's not quite sure where to go"

"i know this life isn't easy, but you'd know that I will be right here"

"and you know those are your needs, dear, and someone who can dry your tears"

"'cause home is where the heart is and my heart is always near"

"i promise in no time that you'll bе fine, and everything will bе alright"

"love is all that matters anyway"

"i know it's scary, i know it's sad"

"kiss your mom and hug your dad, 'cause no one knows how long they really have"

WOULD YA TELL ME?

"i've been waitin', wondering where you are"

"i've been prayin', say you're not too far gone"

"cause I don't know where my love went when you left, dear"

"i don't know where my heart was when you were here"

"what if you're still in love with someone else?"

"what if you're still hung up on someone else?"

"what if you're still the one for someone else?"

"what if you're still in love with someone else? would you tell me?"

"sunlight don't shine now that you're not around"

"daydrunk, moonshine, can't drown the sorrow out"

"i don't know where my mind was when you were here"

"i don't wanna know who's taking you home"

MIRROR.

"where did it all go wrong?"

"innocence stolen way too young"

"there's blood on my hands"

"i don't understand, where did it all go wrong?"

"out on my own at seventeen, no one to tell me who to be

"i'm going insane, i'm wasting away, i found a new low at twenty-three"

"i don't recognize the face in the mirror"

"there's nowhere to hide from the face in the mirror"

"the light in my eyes, i can't seem to find, and i don't recognize the face in the mirror"

"the face in the mirror isn't mine"

"i don't know when I last called my mom, ican't let her know what i've become"

"it's better to lie, don't tell her you're high"

"i wish i could talk to my mom"

"won't somebody help me?"

LOOK HOW FAR YOU'VE COME.

"i know you can't see the light right now"

"they buried you alive with no way out"

"you're screamin' underwater but nobody hears a sound"

"you taught yourself to swim so you don't drown"

"just in case nobody told you this today, look how far you've come"

"you've been running far too long"

"what goes up comes back down, just a circle back around"

"i know you're not nearly done when you can't seem to get back up"

"i wish I could hold my younger self. i'd say, "cry a litle longer if it helps"."

"you can't choose the place you're born, your hair, your name, your baby clothes, but getting here, you did that on your own"

"and in case that you forget, the last time you were here, you swore that it would never end"

"darling, catch your breath, the world's gonna need you love, so do the best you can"

"i promise someday that it'll make sense"

[tatumrileyslover]

Beneath Still Waters

A Stain On Summer [1]

Summer at Mason's Creek Summer Camp: where ghost stories come to life and campers vanish without a trace. As bloody clues surface and dark secrets emerge, a counselor finds herself at the center of a terrifying mystery. In these woods, trust is a luxury she can't afford - because the next victim could be her.

🏕 jungkook x reader x jimin

🏕 word count: 6.0k

🏕 warnings: not a lot of major warning for these first few chapters. Some blood mentioned. A little bit of jealousy. the horror element aren’t present in these first few chapters but be aware if it’s not a genre you like reading that the story contains murder and gore in later chapters <3

🏕 notes: I came up with this idea while replaying the quarry, which really inspired me to write this because I don’t think I’ve seen anyone write anything like this yet so please enjoy <3 also please comment to lmk if you guys actually liked this or not :P

previous / masterlist / next

The bright rays of sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of pine trees, casting long shadows across the well-worn path to the amphitheater. (Y/n) who struggled to wrangle a stray group children, her arms full of scripts and prop lists, paused for a moment to breathe in the crisp morning air. Four weeks into her stint as a counselor at Mason's Creek Summer Camp, and she still found herself in awe of the natural beauty surrounding her. Sure, it was still almost impossible to hear the birds chirping over the constant chattering of the children, but being out in nature had a calming effect like no other.

The amphitheater, a rustic wooden structure nestled in a small clearing, not too far from the camp itself, came into view as (Y/n) rounded the final bend. Weather-beaten benches arranged in a semicircle faced a makeshift stage, where a group of eager campers were already gathering. Their excited chatter filled the air, a stark contrast to the serene forest backdrop.

(Y/n) smiled, adjusting her load as she approached. "Alright, thespians," she called out, her voice carrying across the clearing. "Who's ready to bring some Shakespeare to life?"

A chorus of enthusiastic responses greeted her, and (Y/n) felt a familiar thrill of excitement. This was why she loved being the Arts and Performance counselor. The energy, the creativity, the sheer joy of watching these kids discover their talents – it never got old.

Some of the bright faces talked happily among themselves, prepping for the morning activities, while others scoffed down the remaining remnants of breakfast - which (Y/n) had missed out on. She had been holed up in the Camp Director's Office since the sun began to rise, stuck to the ancient printer that wheezed and groaned with each page it reluctantly produced. Getting all the scripts in order had taken longer than she'd anticipated, but she was determined to have everything ready for the day's drama workshop.

As she began distributing scripts, her eyes scanning the excited faces of her campers, (Y/n) caught sight of a familiar figure jogging towards them. Jimin, his silver hair catching the morning light, waved as he approached. A small group of young girls near the edge of the group erupted into giggles, nudging each other and stealing glances at him.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, slightly out of breath. "Hoseok needed help with a last-minute change to the afternoon activities."

(Y/n) felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Jimin, I almost thought you weren't going to come. I was starting to think I'd have to manage this bunch alone."

He grinned, slapping her shoulder playfully. "And leave you to fend for yourself? Not a chance. Is that what you think of me?"

"Can you help some of those girls with their lines? They're still struggling with Act Two." She slapped a script to his chest with a smile.

As Jimin moved to assist a group of eager campers, who giggled as he approached, (Y/n) couldn't help but smile. There was an ease to their partnership, a natural rhythm they'd fallen into over the weeks. She couldn't have been more relieved that they had promised to help each other out before camp had started, not wanting to think of how she would deal with the hyperactive children by herself. She watched as he patiently guided the kids through their lines, his enthusiasm infectious.

After setting the older campers to work on their scenes, (Y/n) made her way back to where Jimin was sitting. She plopped down next to him, their shoulders brushing.

"How's it going over here?" she asked, nodding towards the group of kids now animatedly acting out their parts.

Jimin chuckled. "I think we might have a few future Broadway stars on our hands. Did you see the dramatics earlier?"

(Y/n) laughed, the tension from her hectic morning melting away. "Oh, it was Oscar-worthy for sure."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the campers' enthusiastic, if slightly chaotic, performances. Without thinking, (Y/n) leaned her head on Jimin's shoulder, a gesture born from years of familiarity.

"Thanks again for coming to help," she said softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you here."

Jimin's reply was warm. "Always, (Y/n)."

As they watched the impromptu performances unfold, trading quiet jokes and observations, (Y/n) felt grateful for this moment of peace amidst the usual camp chaos. She caught sight of Jimin's little fan club stealing glances their way and suppressed a smirk. However, their quiet companionship was soon interrupted as one of the younger campers approached, tugging on (Y/n)'s sleeve needing assistance with some props. 

The sound of laughter drew (Y/n)'s attention back to the stage, where two campers were attempting an overly dramatic interpretation of a scene from "Romeo and Juliet." She stifled a chuckle, moving closer to offer guidance.

As the rehearsal progressed, the forest around them grew darker, the shadows deepening between the trees. (Y/n) found herself glancing at the tree line more frequently, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Maybe it was the ghost stories Taehyung had been telling at the campfire the night before, or maybe it was something else entirely, but she couldn't shake the sensation of being watched.

The forest seemed to press in closer, the spaces between the trees now pitch black. She shook her head, trying to dispel the creeping sense of unease. It was just her imagination, she told herself. Just the power of suggestion after too many campfire tales.

But as the rehearsal continued, (Y/n) couldn't quite convince herself that everything was as it should be. Something had changed at Camp Mason's Creek, a subtle shift in the atmosphere that she couldn't quite put her finger on. 

The Arts and Crafts cabin stood as a haven of creativity amidst the bustling camp grounds. As (Y/n) pushed open the heavy wooden door, she was greeted by the familiar earthy scent of wet clay that permeated the air. The midday sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the room, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floorboards and illuminating specks of dust dancing in the air.

(Y/n) paused for a moment, taking in the scene before her. The large, open space was filled with tables of various sizes, each covered with plastic sheets to protect them from the inevitable mess. Shelves lined the walls, laden with an assortment of finished and half-finished projects – a testament to the campers' creativity over the weeks.

"Alright, everyone," (Y/n) called out, clapping her hands to get the attention of the excited campers filing in behind her. "Find a spot and we'll get started on our pottery project."

The room quickly filled with the sound of chatter and scraping chairs as the children settled into their places. (Y/n) moved between the tables, distributing lumps of clay and making sure everyone had the tools they needed.

"Remember," she said, raising her voice to be heard over the excited murmurs, "we're focusing on hand-building today. For those of you who want to try the wheel, we'll have time for that later in the week."

As the campers began to work, (Y/n) circulated the room, offering guidance and encouragement. She paused at one table where a young girl named Mia was frowning at her lump of clay.

"Everything okay, Mia?" (Y/n) asked, crouching down beside her.

Mia looked up, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I can't get it to look right," she said, gesturing at her misshapen attempt at a bowl.

(Y/n) smiled reassuringly. "That's okay. Remember, pottery isn't about perfection. It's about expressing yourself." She reached over, gently guiding Mia's hands. "Try pressing here, and smoothing it out like this."

As Mia's face lit up with renewed determination, (Y/n) felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find Max, one of the older campers, holding up a blob of clay that vaguely resembled a face.

"Miss (Y/n), is this good enough for a self-portrait?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

(Y/n) bit back a laugh. "Well, Max, I think you've captured your essence perfectly. Maybe try adding some more hair, it looks like you're balding."

The room was soon filled with the sounds of laughter, concentration, and the occasional frustrated sigh. The whir of some of the pottery wheels added a rhythmic backdrop to the creative chaos. (Y/n) found herself lost in the joy of it all, moving from table to table, offering a word of advice here, a helping hand there.

She was in the middle of demonstrating how to attach a handle to a mug when a knock at the door caught her attention. Looking up, she saw Jungkook leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Archery finished early," he said, stepping into the room. "Thought I'd come see if you needed any help."

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. "Help, or make a mess?"

Jungkook clutched his chest in mock offense. "I'll have you know I'm an excellent potter. A modern day Michelangelo with clay."

The younger campers perked up at his arrival, excited whispers rippling through the room. (Y/n) couldn't help but notice the way some of the older girls suddenly became very interested in their work, stealing glances at Jungkook when they thought no one was looking.

"Alright, Michelangelo," (Y/n) challenged, gesturing to an empty wheel. "Show us what you've got."

Jungkook rolled up his sleeves, confidence radiating from every pore as he sat down at the wheel. "Watch and learn, kids. This is how you make a vase."

What followed was possibly the most disastrous attempt at pottery (Y/n) had ever witnessed. Clay flew in all directions as Jungkook struggled to control the wheel, his "vase" looking more like a formless lump with each passing second.

"Oops," he said, grinning sheepishly as a glob of clay landed on his cheek. "I meant to do that. It's abstract art."

The campers giggled, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle. (Y/n) shook her head, unable to keep the amusement off her face as she moved behind him.

"Here, let me help," she said, reaching around to guide his hands. "You need to center the clay first."

The moment her hands touched his, (Y/n) felt a jolt of electricity run through her. She was suddenly very aware of how close they were, of the warmth of his back against her chest. Jungkook turned his head slightly, their faces inches apart, and for a moment, the rest of the room seemed to fade away.

"Like this?" he asked softly, his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

(Y/n) swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus on the clay. "Y-yeah, just... gentle pressure. Let the clay guide your hands."

As they worked together, (Y/n) became aware of the hushed whispers and giggles from the campers around them. She caught snippets of their conversations - "They're so cute!" "Do you think they like each other?" - but she was too distracted by Jungkook's presence to pay much attention.

Finally, they managed to shape something vaguely resembling a vase. (Y/n) stepped back, her cheeks flushed. "See? Not so hard."

Jungkook grinned up at her. "I had a great teacher. Maybe next time you can show me how to make a bowl?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Maybe next time you should stick to archery."

As Jungkook stood up from the pottery wheel, (Y/n) noticed the smear of clay still on his cheek. Without thinking, she reached out, her hand cupping his face gently.

"Hold still," she said softly, using her thumb to wipe away the clay. "You've got a little..."

Their eyes met, and (Y/n) suddenly realized how intimate the gesture was. Jungkook's skin was warm under her touch, his gaze intense. For a moment, they both seemed to forget where they were.

"There," (Y/n) said, her voice barely above a whisper as she lowered her hand. "All clean."

Jungkook's lips curved into a slow smile. "Thanks," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.

The spell was broken by a giggle from nearby, reminding them both that they were surrounded by campers. (Y/n) stepped back, her cheeks flushing as she turned to address the class, acutely aware of Jungkook's gaze still on her.

The rest of the session passed in a blur, with Jungkook moving around the room, charming the campers and occasionally catching (Y/n)'s eye with a wink or a smile that made her heart skip a beat. He proved to be surprisingly good at helping the younger kids, patiently guiding their small hands and offering enthusiastic praise for even the most misshapen creations.

As the session wound down and the campers began cleaning up, (Y/n) found herself both relieved and disappointed that it was over. She watched as Jungkook helped some of the younger kids wash their hands, marveling at how good he was with them.

"Thanks for your help," she said as he approached her, wiping his hands on a towel. "Even if you did turn the place into a war zone."

Jungkook laughed, running a hand through his hair and leaving a streak of clay behind. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents. Some of them are even useful."

Before (Y/n) could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of shouting outside. Looking out the window, they saw a group of campers arguing over a football.

Jungkook sighed. "Duty calls. Can't let them have all the fun without me. See you at dinner?"

(Y/n) nodded, watching as he jogged out to break up the fight. As she turned back to oversee the final cleanup, she couldn't shake the lingering warmth of his touch, or the way her heart raced when he smiled at her.

As the last of the campers filed out, clay-covered masterpieces being shoved in a windowsill to let dry out. (Y/n) began the task of cleaning up. She moved around the room, wiping down tables and organizing supplies, her mind replaying the afternoon's events. She thought about the way Jungkook's eyes had crinkled when he laughed, the gentle pressure of his hands under hers as she guided him on the wheel.

(Y/n) sighed, tossing a clay-covered rag into the sink. It was just a harmless flirtation, she told herself. Nothing more. But as she locked up the craft cabin and headed towards the dining hall, she couldn't quite convince herself that was true.

The smell of dinner wafted across the camp, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest and the lingering aroma of clay on her clothes. Eden took a deep breath, pushing thoughts of Jungkook to the back of her mind. There were still hours left in the day, more activities to oversee, more campers to look after.

But as she walked, she couldn't help but look forward to dinner, the smell of food made her stomach rumble as she realised she hadn't eaten anything since last night's dinner. Quickly, she locked up the cabin and made her way to the mess hall that ushered in hoard of ravenous children.

The mess hall buzzed with excitement, a cacophony of laughter, clattering utensils, and animated chatter filling the air. Long wooden tables stretched from end to end, their surfaces scarred with years of summer memories carved by eager campers. Overhead, strings of fairy lights twinkled softly, complementing the warm glow of the setting sun that streamed through the large windows.

The aroma of tonight's special dinner - barbecue ribs, corn on the cob, and s'more brownies for dessert - wafted from the kitchen, eliciting eager anticipation from campers and counselors alike. It was a feast to mark the halfway point of the summer, and the excitement was palpable.

(Y/n) sat at the counselors' table, Jimin on one side and an empty seat on the other. She couldn't help but notice Jungkook's absence, probably still being held up by the children fighting over the football. Her gaze drifted across the room, taking in the scene.

At the far end of the table, Yoongi sat slightly apart, picking at his food and occasionally glancing up at the chaos around him with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. Jin and Namjoon had their heads together at a small table near the kitchen, deep in discussion about what (Y/n) assumed were camp logistics.

"So," Jimin said, his voice snapping her out of her trance, a hint of something in his voice, "I heard Jungkook paid you a visit during arts and crafts."

(Y/n) felt heat rise to her cheeks. "News travels fast around here, doesn't it?"

Taehyung leaned in, eyes sparkling with interest. "Oh? Do tell!"

"There's nothing to tell," (Y/n) insisted, perhaps a bit too quickly. "He just stopped by and made a mess with the pottery wheel."

"Uh-huh," Jimin said, his tone teasing but with an undercurrent (Y/n) couldn't quite place. 

"So," Taehyung cut in, leaning across the table with a mischievous glint in his eye, "who's ready for some ghost stories tonight?"

Hoseok groaned dramatically, dropping his fork. "Come on, Tae. You know those stories give me nightmares."

"Aww, is our Hobi scared of the big bad ghosts?" Taehyung teased, reaching over to pinch Hoseok's cheek.

Hoseok swatted his hand away, pouting. "I'm not scared! I just... appreciate a good night's sleep, that's all."

Jimin chuckled, nudging (Y/n). "Maybe we should pair Hoseok with some of the older kids tonight, yeah? For protection."

(Y/n) smiled, about to respond when Jungkook finally arrived, sliding into the empty seat beside her. His hair was slightly damp, and he smelled faintly of grass and sweat.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, flashing a grin that made (Y/n)'s heart skip a beat. "Had to settle a dispute over the last soccer ball. Looks like I missed the ribs, though." He eyed (Y/n)'s plate hopefully.

"Don't even think about it, Jeon," (Y/n) warned, but she was already pushing her plate towards him.

As Jungkook settled in, his arm brushing against (Y/n)'s, she noticed Jimin tense beside her. The silver-haired counselor's knuckles whitened around his fork.

"Well," Jimin said, standing abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I should go clean up some of the swimming equipment. Make sure they're all ready for tomorrow."

(Y/n) frowned, watching him leave. "Is everything okay with Jimin?" she asked, turning to the others.

Taehyung waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Oh, I think our Jiminie is just feeling a little... left out." He called after Jimin's retreating form, "Don't forget to bring your teddy bear to the campfire, Jimin-ah!"

Jimin's only response was a half-hearted wave without turning back.

As the meal progressed, the excitement among the campers grew. Younger kids bounced in their seats, their voices rising in pitch and volume. The older campers gave an air of cool nonchalance, but (Y/n) could see the anticipation in their eyes for the afternoon's festivities.

(Y/n)'s gaze drifted across the mess hall, taking in the scenes of summer joy. But in a far corner, she noticed two older campers with their heads close together, whispering intently. The girl – Rose, one of (Y/n)'s drama students – glanced furtively around before leaning in even closer to the boy, Jason.

Frowning slightly, (Y/n) stood up, intending to check on them. But before she could take a step, Jin's voice cut through the chatter.

"Attention, everyone!" he called out, standing at the front of the hall. The room gradually quieted, all eyes turning to the camp director. "As you all know, tonight marks the halfway point of our summer together at Mason's Creek Summer Camp."

A cheer went up from the campers, and Jin smiled, waiting for quiet to return. "Tonight's campfire is special. For the first time this summer, all of our campers, from the youngest to the oldest, will gather together around the fire. It's a chance for us to come together as one camp family, to share stories, songs, and maybe," he glanced at Taehyung with a wry smile, "a scare or two."

More cheers and a few nervous giggles rippled through the crowd.

"So," Jin continued, "in fifteen minutes, we'll all meet at the big fire pit. Counselors, make sure your groups are accounted for and bring extra blankets. It's going to be a chilly night!"

As Jin finished speaking, a flurry of activity erupted in the mess hall. Campers began clearing their plates, chattering excitedly about the night ahead. Counselors moved between tables, organizing their groups and answering a barrage of questions.

(Y/n) felt a hand on her arm and turned to find Jungkook looking at her, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Ready for all these scary stories?" he asked, his voice low and playful.

She felt a flutter in her stomach but managed to roll her eyes, as she pushed her finger against his chest. "Just try not to scream too loud when Taehyung starts his ghost stories, okay?"

Jungkook clutched his chest in mock offense. "Me? Scream? Never! I'll have you know I'm very brave."

"Uh-huh," (Y/n) teased, "Is that why you slept with your flashlight on after last week's zombie story?"

Their laughter mingled with the excited voices around them as they began to herd their group towards the door. As they left the warmth of the mess hall, the cool evening air nipped at their skin, carrying with it the promise of a night filled with mystery.

As the campers began to file out, (Y/n) noticed Rose and Jason lingering behind, still deep in conversation. She made a mental note to keep an eye on them during the campfire.

The path to the fire pit was alive with excitement. Younger campers skipped ahead, their voices carrying through the darkening woods, while the older ones walked with an air of cool nonchalance that didn't quite hide their anticipation.

The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as (Y/n) and Jungkook led their group of campers down the winding path to the campfire. The excited chatter of the kids filled the air, punctuated by the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle in the underbrush.

As they approached the clearing, the smell of woodsmoke mingled with the earthy scent of the forest. The campfire came into view, a beacon of warmth and light in the gathering dusk. Campers were already spreading blankets on the ground and arranging themselves in a wide circle around the flames.

(Y/n) did a quick headcount of her group, frowning slightly when she realized Rose and Jason were missing. She was about to mention it to Jungkook when Taehyung's group burst into the clearing, their counselor wearing an elaborate headdress made of leaves and twigs.

"Make way for the forest spirits!" Taehyung announced dramatically, earning giggles from the younger campers and eye-rolls from the older ones.

"Tae, you look ridiculous," (Y/n) laughed, momentarily distracted from her concerns.

Taehyung struck a pose. "Ridiculous? I'll have you know this is the height of woodland fashion."

As they helped their campers settle, spreading blankets and passing out s'mores supplies, (Y/n) found herself swept up in the excitement. The sun sank lower, the sky deepening to a rich purple. Soon, the only light came from the roaring campfire, casting flickering shadows that danced at the edge of the woods.

(Y/n) couldn't shake a feeling of unease as she glanced at the dark line of trees surrounding them. In the daylight, the forest was a place of adventure and discovery. But now, with the flames throwing strange shadows and the darkness pressing in, it felt almost menacing. She shivered, pulling her jacket closer.

"Cold?" Jungkook's voice came from beside her, startling her out of her thoughts.

"No, just... the woods seem different at night, don't they?"

Jungkook nodded, his eyes scanning the treeline. "Yeah, it's like they're hiding secrets."

Before (Y/n) could respond, Taehyung cleared his throat loudly. "Gather 'round, campers and counselors alike! It's time for a tale of terror!"

The campers hushed, leaning in eagerly as Taehyung began his story. His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as he spun a tale of a killer who stalked the woods, preying on unsuspecting campers.

As the story progressed, (Y/n) found her attention wandering. Her eyes drifted over the circle, taking in the reactions of the other counselors. Hoseok was visibly uncomfortable, jumping at every dramatic pause. Yoongi seemed unimpressed, occasionally rolling his eyes at the more outlandish parts of the tale.

Her gaze settled on Jungkook, and she found herself admiring the way the firelight played across his features, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the intensity in his eyes as he listened to the story. She quickly looked away when he glanced in her direction, feeling a warmth in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the fire.

It was then that (Y/n) noticed Jimin's absence. She frowned, wondering if he was still upset from dinner. Knowing Jimin, he had probably thrown himself into work, losing track of time. She made a mental note to check on him after the campfire.

As her eyes scanned the group again, she realized Jin was missing too. It seemed odd that the camp director would leave without saying anything, but she reasoned he might have quietly informed Namjoon and slipped away to avoid disrupting the story.

(Y/n)'s gaze drifted back to the woods, the vastness of the darkness beyond the fire's glow drawing her in. As she stared into the gloom, a movement caught her eye. For a moment, she thought she saw a figure among the trees.

Suddenly, Taehyung's voice rose to a shout as he reached the climax of his story. He threw something into the fire, causing it to roar up with a burst of sparks. (Y/n) jumped to her feet, her heart pounding.

Jungkook looked up at her, startled. "Whoa, (Y/n)! Don't tell me Tae's story actually scared you," he teased, but there was a note of concern in his voice.

(Y/n) barely heard him. Her eyes were fixed on the edge of the clearing where a figure had emerged from the woods. "Rose," she whispered, before breaking into a run.

Rose stumbled into the firelight, soaking wet and shivering. (Y/n) reached her just as the girl's legs seemed to give out, catching her and wrapping her in the blanket she'd grabbed from the ground.

"Rose! What happened? Where's Jason?" (Y/n) asked, her voice tight with worry.

Through chattering teeth, Rose explained how Jason had pushed her into the lake as a prank. She'd gotten lost trying to find her way back, wandering the trails in the dark. "J-Jason's still down there," she said, a mix of anger and worry in her voice. "I didn't want to see him after what he did, but... what if something happened to him?"

As (Y/n) comforted Rose, she overheard Namjoon instructing Taehyung and Yoongi to do a quick sweep around the lake. The other counselors began ushering the confused and worried campers back to their cabins.

In the midst of the chaos, Jimin appeared, looking slightly disheveled and... wet? Eden noticed but couldn't dwell on it, focused on getting Rose warm and dry.

"Come on," she said to Rose, guiding her towards the cabins. "Let's get you into some dry clothes."

In (Y/n)'s cabin, she turned up the small heater and helped Rose change into warm, dry clothes. As she helped the girl towel dry her hair, Rose spoke softly.

"I really liked him, you know? Jason. I thought... I thought maybe he liked me too. But then he just pushed me in and laughed." She looked up at (Y/n), her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Is that what love is supposed to be like?"

(Y/n)'s heart ached for the girl. "No, sweetie. That's not love. Someone who cares about you would never purposely put you in danger or make you feel bad."

After making sure Rose was okay, (Y/n) walked her back to her own cabin, her mind whirling with worry about Jason and confusion over the events of the night.

(Y/n)'s mind was still reeling from the events of the night as she made her way back to her cabin. The path, usually so familiar, felt alien in the darkness, every shadow seeming to hide potential dangers. As she approached, she saw a figure sitting on the porch steps, hunched over with elbows resting on knees. Her heart skipped a beat before she recognized Jungkook's silhouette.

"Jungkook?" she called softly, quickening her pace.

He looked up, relief washing over his features as he stood. "(Y/n), thank god. I was getting worried."

As she climbed the steps, (Y/n) could see the tension in his jaw, the worry etched in the lines of his face. "Any news?" she asked, though she could already guess the answer from his expression.

Jungkook shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Nothing. We can't find Jason anywhere. We've done a preliminary search of the lake shore and the nearby trails, but there's no sign of him."

(Y/n) felt her stomach drop. "What about the other counselors? Jin?"

"Jin's still missing too. Namjoon's trying to keep it quiet to avoid panicking the campers, but..." Jungkook trailed off, his eyes meeting (Y/n)'s. The unspoken worry hung heavy between them.

(Y/n) sank down onto the porch step, suddenly feeling exhausted. Jungkook sat beside her, their shoulders touching. The contact was comforting in the face of the night's uncertainties.

"What happens now?" (Y/n) asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook sighed. "Namjoon's organizing a more thorough search. We're going out in pairs to cover more ground. He thinks it's best we stay with our usual partner"

"Pairs?" (Y/n) echoed, a mix of relief and anxiety coursing through her. The thought of searching the dark woods alone was terrifying, but with a partner...

"Yeah," Jungkook nodded. "Safety in numbers, you know? Plus, it's easy to get turned around in the woods at night."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation settling over them. In the distance, they could hear muffled voices - other counselors organizing search parties, no doubt.

"I can't believe this is happening," (Y/n) said, shaking her head. "Just a few hours ago, we were all laughing and telling ghost stories. And now..."

"Hey," Jungkook said softly, bumping his shoulder against hers. "We'll find him. Jason's a smart kid. He probably just got lost and is too embarrassed to call out for help, you know how he is."

(Y/n) wanted to believe him, but the nagging worry in the pit of her stomach wouldn't subside. "But what if it's something worse? What if-"

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Jungkook interrupted gently. "We don't know anything for sure yet."

(Y/n) nodded, trying to take comfort in his words. She looked at Jungkook, really looked at him, and saw the determination in his eyes despite the worry creasing his brow. It made her feel a little braver.

A ghost of a smile flickered across Jungkook's face. "Ready to head out?"

(Y/n) took a deep breath, steeling herself. "As ready as I'll ever be. Where are we searching?"

"Namjoon wants us to take the trail by the creek," Jungkook explained as they set off, flashlights in hand. "The one that leads down to the lake.The other are covering different areas."

They walked in silence for a moment, the sounds of the camp fading behind them. The beam of their flashlights cut through the darkness, creating eerie, shifting shadows among the trees. (Y/n) found herself drawing closer to Jungkook, the warmth of his presence a comfort against the chill of the night.

"It's so different out here," (Y/n) murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't shake the feeling that speaking too loudly might disturb something better left undisturbed.

Jungkook nodded, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. "Yeah, it's like the whole forest changes after dark. Everything familiar becomes... strange."

They continued down the path, the crunch of leaves and twigs under their feet seeming unnaturally loud in the quiet of the night. The distant gurgle of the creek grew louder as they approached, the water a ribbon of silver in the moonlight.

"You okay?" Jungkook asked softly, noticing (Y/n)'s unease.

(Y/n) hesitated before answering. "Just... a little scared, I guess. I keep thinking about Jason out here alone. And Jin... where could he have gone?"

Jungkook's arm slipped around her shoulders, a comforting weight. "Hey, it's okay to be scared. I am too. But we're together, and we've got this, alright? We'll find them."

His warmth and steady presence helped ease some of (Y/n)'s fear, but she couldn't shake the nagging worry in the pit of her stomach. "Do you think..." she started, then paused, unsure if she wanted to voice her fears.

"What?" Jungkook prompted gently.

"Do you think something bad might have happened to Jason?" she finally asked, the words hanging heavily in the air between them. "I mean, Rose was so upset, and for Jin to disappear too..."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before responding. "I don't know," he admitted. "But let's not assume the worst just yet. Jason could just be lost and scared, like Rose was. And Jin... well, he's probably out looking too, he probably realised the two of them were gone and went to find them."

(Y/n) nodded, trying to take comfort in his words. "You're right. I'm probably just letting Taehyung's ghost stories get to me."

Jungkook chuckled softly. "Those stories would make anyone jumpy. Remember the first week when he told that one about the vengeful spirit in the lake? I swear, half the campers refused to go near the lake for a week."

The memory brought a smile to (Y/n)'s face, easing some of the tension. They continued their search, calling out Jason's name every few minutes, their voices echoing strangely in the still night air.

As they neared the lake, the trees thinned out, revealing a stretch of a sandyshore. The water was a black mirror, reflecting the starry sky above. In daylight, this was a place of laughter and splashing. Now, it seemed vast and unknowable.

"Should we head back?" Jungkook asked, his voice low. "We've covered a lot of ground."

(Y/n) was about to agree when something caught her eye. A flash of white against the dark rocks at the water's edge. "Wait," she said, pointing. "What's that?"

They moved closer, their flashlights focused on the spot. As they approached, (Y/n)'s breath caught in her throat. Snagged on a jagged rock, fluttering slightly in the night breeze, was a piece of fabric. Even in the dim light, she could see the dark stains marring its surface.

"Is that..." Jungkook started, his voice trailing off.

(Y/n) nodded, a chill running down her spine. "It's a torn shirt. And that's... that's blood."

They stood frozen, the implications of their discovery sinking in. The peaceful night sounds of the forest seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of (Y/n)'s heart in her ears.

Jungkook's arm tightened around her. "We need to tell Namjoon. Now."

Taglist: @jungkooknippleanddicksucker

[killerpillar]

from your dearest historia.

[F/F] [G] yumihisu drabble/oneshot, post-canon, afterlife, fix-it (kind of), fluff, growing old, losing memories, reunited, requited love, undying love.

wc: 1176・ ♫ sailor song - gigi perez ・ read on ao3.

. . . . . .

Historia can’t remember the shade of her eyes anymore.

Whether they were the same hue of earth or a faint, chestnut hazel. 

Whether the sunlight made them glow like gold or umber.

Whether her freckles were something she imagined, or if the memory of lying beside her on a concrete rooftop and tracing constellations across her skin was really real.

Maybe it wasn’t real, and she’s just holding on to nothing and hoping it was something.

Maybe she wasn’t real.

(She had to be real.)

(Right?)

Historia names her daughter after her.

Her husband says he likes it. He thinks it's a beautiful name.

Historia agrees. Tells him she thinks it is, too.

But he doesn’t know anything. 

He doesn’t know just how beautiful that name really is.

(It’s not his fault he doesn’t know.)

(She knows it isn’t.)

(But it still makes her bitter.)

Reiner and Connie come to visit. She lets them hold Ymir. 

They ask for her name, and she tells them.

Their faces change. 

They look at her like they pity her. 

Like there’s an apology waiting on the tip of their tongues.

She hates it. 

She hates that look.

But she pretends not to notice.

Mikasa comes too, later. Jean is with her. There’s a ring on both their fingers.

When Mikasa hears her daughter’s name, she doesn’t give Historia that face. Historia realises it’s probably because she’s the only one that understands. 

There’s something else in her eyes. 

Something familiar.

Mikasa tells her the name is fitting.

She comes by more often now. Alone.

They talk. 

They listen.

There’s things they tell each other that they tell no one else. Things nobody else would understand.

Sometimes Historia cries.

Sometimes Mikasa cries.

Most of the time, they do everything they can not to start.

Their kids get along, too. 

Somewhat.

Her daughter is older now. 

Too rowdy for her to hold on her hip.

Historia can’t remember her face anymore.

It’s only her daughter’s face she sees in her mind when she hears Ymir.

Not her’s.

She still dreams about her, though.

It's always fuzzy like her mind can’t decide on whether her skin was always so tan or if her hair was always so dark.

She can’t remember her voice anymore. 

She just remembers that it was something she used to really like hearing. Her voice would wake her up in the mornings. Tell her goodnight before the lights went out. Whisper to her under the covers after dark. Her voice called Historia’s name in a way nobody else’s ever did. 

Historia wishes she could still hear her voice.

Still see her. 

Touch her. 

Feel her.

But she can’t.

She’s not there.

Her husband doesn’t know how to comfort her.

Why would he?

He didn’t know. 

He doesn’t know.

He’s done nothing wrong.

She has.

Historia’s done a lot wrong.

She must have done everything wrong if she can’t even remember her face or her voice or her touch anymore. All the things she swore she’d never forget. The things that she thought were carved and branded into her bones, from how often she’d think about them, replay them over and over in her mind. The things she’d beg and plead and pray she wouldn’t one day forget.

But maybe she can’t blame herself that much.

Even the skies seem blurry to her, nowadays. 

There’s roses in the yard. 

She can’t see far enough to make them out anymore.

Autumn’s colours are dull.

Spring’s breeze feels stale. 

Summer can’t warm her and winter makes no difference.

Historia’s always cold nowadays. 

She spends nearly all her time in that armchair on the front porch, behind a white picket fence her husband had built, and still the sun doesn’t seem to warm her skin like it used to. 

Her daughter came home to introduce the man she was going to marry yesterday.

Or maybe it was last month.

Or last year.

Or maybe it’s already been a decade.

Historia can’t really remember. 

Soon there’s another child on her lap. 

She thinks he looks like Ymir. 

But not her Ymir. 

… her Ymir?

She wonders who her Ymir was.

She remembers she loved her Ymir. 

Loves.

She loves her Ymir.

Yes. 

Her Ymir with the golden eyes and the sunkissed skin and freckled cheeks.

Her Ymir who wrote her the letter with the faded ink and the words she can no longer make out, but somehow still read.

Her Ymir, who wanted to marry her dear Historia.

Yes.

Historia remembers, now.

She murmurs something about her Ymir.

Her daughter answers. 

Historia can’t understand why it feels so wrong to see her daughter’s face and not her.

… Her?

Who?

Her… someone.

She’s forgotten again.

Forgotten…

Who?

Maybe it was nothing.

Or maybe it was her everything.

She doesn’t know. 

She can’t remember again. 

Historia’s eyes feel heavy.

Everything seems dark

Maybe the sun had set. 

Maybe that's why the lights had all gone out.

Maybe that’s why she can’t feel anything anymore.

Maybe that’s why her fingertips are so numb and cold.

Historia wishes she could see the sun again.

Her sun.

Something featherlight brushes her cheeks. She could’ve mistaken it for the wind, if it hadn’t been for the warmth of the touch.

Historia opens her eyes, and it feels like her first time truly seeing.

She sees colour. 

She sees light.

She can see again. 

It’s golden and beautiful and warm against her skin. She thinks she’s lying on a field of flowers. The grass under her fingertips is soft against her skin. Petals of all the most beautiful colours. The sky is the bluest she remembers it has ever been. 

… She can remember again.

She can breathe with all her lungs again.

She feels young and new again.

She hears a voice call out her name.

For a second, Historia doesn’t understand why her chest grows so tight and why everything seems to fade from around her, just at the sound of it. Why it feels like it’s everything she’s ever wanted to hear. Why there’s heat swelling in her eyes and why everything is going blurry again. 

She turns. 

Amber eyes meet hers. 

Dark hair sways in the wind. 

Freckles like stars pepper her cheeks.

Freckles.

Yes.

Historia remembers now.

How could she ever have forgotten?

Ymir calls her name again.

Historia feels like it's her first time ever hearing her own name.

It was her Ymir. 

Her sun. 

Her lover. 

Her every sin and every happiness. 

Her every mistake and every victory. 

Her Ymir.

Historia takes her hand. 

She tells her Ymir she’s never letting go.

Never again.

Ymir laughs.

Historia’s never heard a sound more beautiful.

She tells her ymir she’s serious and to stop laughing at her, even though Historia wouldn’t mind hearing that laugh on repeat even for aeons.

Ymir manages to stop laughing somehow, smiles, and says she believes her— yes, really, she did.

Tucks a lock of golden hair behind her ears and says she won’t let go of her, either.

Ever again?

Ever again.

.

[selkieioe]

read: playlists are super down below so keep scrolling!!

Our Life: Beginnings & Always.

Hello Hello! Welcome to my first ever post on tumblr that just had to be about my ultimate top tier favorite visual novel of all time..Our Life: Beginnings & Always or OL:BA for short.

This game has such a special place in my heart that im afraid I’ll forever be attached to it because at this point it’s not even a phase anymore lol. I still remember that heated summer day of scrolling down on my steam shop out of boredom and i kept getting recommended OL:BA but back then i really couldn’t care less and would not even spare a glance on it until i got so fed up of it popping up in my recommended for the next few days that i decided to finally check it out.

Reading what it was about made me curious but what really got me downloading it was because of the customization of our character/characters.

And finally into the game i was! I remember when the story started, i was very surprised already by the environment, narrative and world building of the game. It truly felt like i was part of it and i didn’t get bored at all. In fact right from the start i was hooked already!

I loved ALL of the characters that was introduced, i love the fact that it was SO multiple choice that it felt like you were really integrating yourself/oc onto the game and that you’re not just forced to say the same thing as a different choice or feel as though your options are limited. Its definitely a game that you’re supposed to replay over and over because its just that fun!!

And as someone who has never had a great childhood and adolescence, absentee parent, chaotic household, unsupportive friends, want to be understood (you know…this and that) i was so happy that this game was doing that and it genuinely gave me hope to live despite going through the darkest of times in my life :)

This game has changed me into a better person and made me want to be the best version of myself that i want to be in the future! I will infinitely recommend this to anyone who wants to have a feel good game/read (+1 it will make you cry!!)

Anyway enough yapping 💀 Time to get to the point.

Here are some playlists i made dedicated to the lovable characters of OL:BA that i personally listened to during my walkthrough and may relate to their route/lore ;)

read: playlists are super down below so keep scrolling!!

1# COVE HOLDEN

the og love interest!

summer with cove holden.

this playlist is the epitome vibes of the game (growing up with them and having fun, making memories.)

from beginnings to always with cove holden.

spoiler alert!! MARRIAGE DLC WOOOO!! really love this one cuz its all full of cute romance and wedding songs. i also put some songs that i think mc and cove would have when they get kids :3

#2 DEREK SUAREZ

MY PERSONAL FAVORITE!!

DEREK IS JUST SOOOO AAHHHH He’s my ideal man and i KIN him so bad you dont even know!!!

derek suarez crushing on you.

THIS PLAYLIST. IM TELLING YOU. one of the FAVES i made!! the pining, secret crush on mc for a loong time, the angst GOSH. so cute. every song in this plays a part on each moment with him i swear

#3 BAXTER WARD

ANGST MAN.

5 years after baxter ward.

one thing i noticed about our life is it lacks certain angst aspects when the baxter dlc didn’t exist YET back then. like i LOVED the fight between mc and cove in mcs room and i wanted it to escalate more ngl just cuz i LIVE for angst! but if you want to get real hurt you should choose baxter. this playlist focuses more on the last step of his dlc and its full of taylor swift songs.

baxter ward.

honestly this playlist is catered more to his vibes, his character (i listen to this playlist and i imagine edits of him lol) but i guess some songs are related to his story/lore? i made this waaay before 5 years after baxter ward and when the baxter dlc didn’t exist yet and we all just knew him to be as the new neighbor in sunset bird but people like it i guess so here it is xD

anyway thats all for OL:BA series! GB Patch is cooking up Our Life Now & Forever and it’s not released yet! just on demo on steam and itch! i already have a playlist for it but so far i have only made Qiu Lin (one of the leads of the game) i also have a privated filo inspired playlist for baxter if you want to listen to it let me know so i can put it up in public!

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

The Kids Aren't Alright: Werewolf!Cole Cassidy x Reader

I will never say no to werewolf cassidy/mccree, and if I do, kill me

Contains: Light werewolf transformation, blood, violence, drinking, self-deprecation, gunshot wounds

He had been so careful.

He’s sat at the edge of the base, back braced up against a rock, legs spread wide in front of him, his face settled in a pained scowl. He stared into nothingness, eyes trained somewhere on the waves that crashed onto the rocky shore just beneath him, the cliffside blocking his view of the darkness below.

God, he just wanted to sink into that darkness. He prayed for demonic hands to come up the cliff and drag him down, preferably to a cold chamber in hell.

The winds are chilly for a mid-summer night. Maybe it was the alcohol buzzing in his system, sitting in his stomach that was void of any food. His tanned skin was covered in goosebumps, but he made no effort in slugging his serape over his body to protect himself from the winds. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat next to him, having been full when he cracked the seal with his teeth and started drinking from it like that drunkard he is maybe an hour ago. The first sip always burned, but it was becoming less painful as the years went by, now really just drawing a bit of a tingle on the tip of his tongue whenever he drank.

Forgoing a glass, Cole wrapped his fingers around the cheaply designed glass neck, human fingers trembling ever so slightly in a mixture of unstable emotions as he rose the bottle to his lips. Tilting his head back, he allowed nearly half of a mouth full of bitter whiskey before he swallowed, nearly dropping the bottle to the rock beneath him. The glass still made a sharp clinking noise, nearly shattering the glass bottom.

But he didn’t care.

He fucked up. He royally fucked up and now he was paying the price.

He could feel it inside of him, the damn thing never dying no matter how much he tries to drown it with cheap alcohol that could wash paint and rust off of metals. It was like it was pacing inside of him, dragging its horrid claws along a stony wall, its eyes piercing through the dark. He could make out very little of the beast, but he knew it was him right down to the bloodied hands flexing and waiting to dig into something alive. Even now in his drunken state, he could still smell the blood from last night. It was like it had just been spilled right under his nose, the scent of copper stinging his nostrils as the flared when he took deep breaths to calm himself down.

His mind was fucking with him, had been all day, had been all night last night. It kept him up, anytime he would try to close his eyes it would just replay all that happened just hours before like some sick snuff film. It got so bad that every time he blinked his mind would show him stills and images from when he was still lucid.

He can still remember the sight of you; On your back, scrambling away from him, bloodied and bruised, and utterly afraid of him as he towered over you. The love of his life is now terrified of him.

He took another swig from the whiskey bottle, nearly choking as a sob shook his shoulders. Tears stabbed at his eyes, burning at the corners as he forced himself to swallow. His shoulders shook, his back tightened, his ribs felt heavy.

He felt like he was going to throw up.

He had been so careful up until last night.

‘Be careful out there, yeah cowboy?’ your voice echoed in the back of his mind.

‘Always am, darlin’.’

A heavy sob forced its way out of him, dropping the bottle back down to the rocks as he pressed his back closer to the boulder. He felt bile creeping up in the back of his throat as it tightened.

It was a complete shitshow. Everything started off eerie and quiet, your team cautiously entering what was supposed to be an abandoned hotel that Talon had been using as a makeshift hideout after having been drawn out by previous missions. You as well as a few others went ahead of him, having been posted towards the front of the hotel in the trashed and very dilapidated lobby as a lookout.

He had a horrible feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach the entire time he was up front, uneasily rocking back and forth, placing weight on one leg and shifting it to the other as he fiddled with his armor and gun belt. Every noise made him jump a bit, his eyes constantly scanning around for any movement that didn’t belong to Overwatch agents. Straining his ears, he could hear you going deeper and deeper inside the hotel, going up creaking stairs that threatened to give out under the slightest weight. He focused on your heartbeat.

At the slightest hike in its rhythm, he would book it from his position.

He didn’t like this place, didn’t trust it with any fiber of his being. Even the monster inside of him was starting to go nuts, gnawing at the bars of its cage, clawing at his ribs and tearing at his guts inside of him. He could feel icy claws trace along his spine.

The agents around him gave him an odd look out of the corners of their eyes, eyebrows all knit with slight concern at how he was acting. He didn’t care, though, he just wanted to get you and get the hell out of here. His throat burned for a cigarette, his nose crying from the overstimulation this place brought with all of its horrible smells of rot and mold.

Just as he was idly rolling a finger over the carton of cigarettes in his pocket, he heard your heartbeat hike,

And then came the gunfire.

He was the first to peel out of the lobby and into the crowded stairwell, taking the aged steps three at a time. Peacekeep felt as though it weighed a thousand pounds as he pulled the hammer back. He could barely make out the shouting over the gunfire, his voice barely loud enough to call out over it as he climbed the steps toward hell.

He broke through the door like a bat out of hell and shot dead the first Talon agent he saw. He called out for you, dodging bullets and bracing against walls and busted down doors, taking out whatever he could from the flood of Talon agents.

There were so many of them. How did he not smell them? How did he not hear them? If he had just focused hard enough, this all could’ve been avoided.

And then he heard it.

Your shrill scream cut through the chaos like a hot knife through butter. It felt as though he had been shot in the back with a silver round. He barreled through the hallways as though he had been suddenly possessed. He felt himself slipping and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

As he neared the room your scream came from, blood suddenly splattered out from the open doorway as the Talon agent fell backward. Peeling inside with Peacekeeper drawn, he nearly dropped his precious gun at the sight of you collapsed on the dusty floor nursing a nasty looking bullet wound in your side. Your gun clattered to the ground as you clasped both hands on the wound, wincing and crying, applying whatever pressure you could. Cole was at your side, kneeling beside you, encasing your hands with one of his own and applying more pressure as blood leaked between your fingers. You looked up at him with weary eyes, a faint smile ghosting over your lips.

‘Guess I shoulda took my own advice, Cass?’

He shot you a look before calling out behind him for a medic.

‘Yer gonna be just fine darlin’. You took a lot worse than this before. Yer gonna pull right through,’ he crooned.

You nodded, wincing as he applied more pressure. Seconds passed by like hours. His nerves were sparking like he was hopped up on adrenaline. Where was that fucking medic?

As he turned to yell louder, he instead got the same treatment as you did; A bullet, this time getting him right in the lower back, barely missing his spine by a few hairs.

Everything happened so fast. Colors faded together, his body felt like it was doused with icy cold water all while being lit on fire, there was a horrid ringing in his head. He didn’t even feel the pain it all brought on, just the feeling of his clothes suddenly becoming tight before tearing as brawny muscles flexed and covered with fur.

He should’ve known better. He always kept it under control.

The only other thing he remembered was the sight of you, face painted with pure fear, crawling backwards away from him into the dusty corner, blood seeping from in between your fingers.

Cole wiped his face with his metal hand, the plates were cool and strung a bit when he pinched around his eyes to stop the rest of the tears from falling. His body wracked with a harsh hiccup, hunching in on himself slightly. His serape fell forward, hiding his exposed skin from the chilly air.

“Cole?” It was like he had been shot all over again. Fear struck him right in the gut like an icy pike. He could suddenly smell them, he could even taste their worry it was that thick. “Cole?” the small voice repeated.

It was soft, barely audible, almost drowned out by the wind and the waves crashing. He could feel the warmth their body radiated, their smell lingered in his nose. It had started to calm him down without even doing anything. He couldn’t turn his head to face them, instead tucking his head down and allowing the brim of his hat to obscure his eyes.

‘If I don’t see ‘em, they’ll go away,’ he thought painfully.

“I’m not going anywhere, cowboy,” your voice was firm. He could feel your eyes rolling over him, taking in all of the torture he put onto himself. The wrinkled and messy flannel shirt stained with sweat and a bit of bile, the dirty jeans that hadn’t been washed in a while, the boots that had be scuffed with spurs all bent out of shape. Even his arm had lacked care and upkeep, the once shiny metal was dull from not keeping it clean. “Oh, Cass,” you doted, “don’t torture yourself.”

He finally spared you a glance. You were in very loose clothes, the sweatpants you wore barely clung to your waist, dipping a bit. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of the sterile white bandages wrapping around your waist from where the bullet had been dug out of you. Your sweatshirt was unzipped, one of his worn shirts from long ago covered your front under it. You looked exhausted, not a single trace of shame or anger or even fear lingered on your person.

“You shouldn’ be up,” he slurred, turning to look away from you. “Shouldn’ even be ‘round a thing like me.”

He felt you step closer to him before slowly getting on the ground beside him. You didn’t dare sit, fearing the pull of your stitched up wound, instead you kneeled right next to him and kept your hands on your thighs. You both sat in uncomfortable silence for God knows how long before he felt you ever so gently place your hand on his outstretched leg. He stared at your hand, noting the small cuts and odd bruises you had, even staring at the nasty looking bruise in your inner elbow all wrapped up from where they drew blood and let the IV flow. He didn’t look up higher, though.

“I love you,” your words were soft but firm. “Nothing’s ever gonna change that, you know.” He still didn’t spare you a look. He heard you swallow thickly, your hand squeezed his leg a little tighter. “I understand why you never told me about… that. I’m not afraid of you, Cass.”

He broke down, startling you when a dry sob heaved his shoulders. You scooted closer, wrapping your arms around his trembling shoulders, holding him as he sobbed quietly in the mid-summer night. You pressed your lips to his shoulder, holding yourself firm against him as he crumbled with the sounds of the waves crashing beneath you both.