#maybe a ray of hope for the country who knows

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Hold You Tight In My Mind

Main Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, blowjobs, kinda fingering), soft angst, injury, hurt/comfort, demon possession, friends-with-benefits to lovers.

Summary/Warnings: You and Dean have an agreement. Best friends who have sex, no strings attached. But when a case goes south, you learn a few things about Dean, specifically his thoughts on the arrangement.

Maybe you won't have to love him in silence after all.

Author's Note: Kinda request from @brtodd!! Nothing I love more than a good old love confession, enjoy!

Title from Terrance Loves You by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 8.5k

That’s a lot of blood. You’ve spent nights in motels stitching wounds and lost yourself on the side of the highway shouting for help, your guts half spilled on the pavement, but you’ve never seen that much blood.

“Son of a bitch, that’s a lot of blood.”

Dean, apparently, hasn’t seen this much blood either. 

“Should we, um,” you scan over the tile floor, your nose slightly scrunched. “Should we take a picture for Sam?”

“Yeah, he should see this shit too-“

“No, Dean,” you give him a flat look. “For the case. To help him figure out what the hell this thing is.”

Dean gives you a bright, boyish grin and nod of approval. “Good thinkin’, in case he gets mad at us-“

“Gets mad at you,” you correct, moving to stand at Dean’s shoulder as he takes the photo. “I’m not a part of this. I just wanna go home.”

Dean shrugs. “We all wanna go home, Sweetheart. Hell, I’ve got a wife and kids- Shit-“

He doubles over slightly from your elbow in his ribs, and you roll your eyes.

“You have a fake wife and kids. And your fake wife,” you jab your thumb at your own chest. “Doesn’t want her fake brother-in-law to kill her.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dean’s never allowed to have fun.” He mutters, rubbing his side. “And Sammy wouldn’t kill ya’-“

“He’d kill my fake husband.” You pout at Dean, placing a hand over your heart. “And that would kill me.”

Dean chuckles, rising back to his full height. “I love it when you pretend that you care about me. Makes me warm and fuzzy.”

You roll your eyes, hoping he can’t see the low flush on your face. “You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” He shrugs. “You’re into it, though. C’mon, we gotta see if there’s actually a body in here, or Sam’ll kill both of us.”

Dean trudges off through the lake of blood, and you have to shake your head slightly to clear it. This case is going to kill you. This is so fucking gross, and the longer you’re here—in this room, in this town, on this case—the sicker you feel.

And it’s not just the blood. It’s all of this. It’s the haughty country club patrons who are downright impossible to properly interrogate, it’s the extra fancy clothing you have to wear for the investigations, and the shitty little tea cakes that the club serves. Tea cakes that you can feel your stomach growling for, because you haven’t had a chance to eat all day, and that only makes you feel worse. As every hour passes, you only feel more and more sick. You only spiral into starving mess that needs either food or Dean.

And that just makes you ill. Every time you look at Dean and hear him say wife, you want to strangle him then kiss him and it’s exhausting. Because you’d walked into this stupid fucking country club with a plan that would’ve worked fine—Sam’s your driver because he drew the short stick, Dean’s your bodyguard, you’re some fancy heiress looking to spend some money—and everything went sideways the moment the front desk asked how many household members, and Dean said four. Dean said that he was your husband, and you have kids, and that he knows he’s punchin’ above his weight class, but damn him, he can’t feel bad about it. 

You want to hate him for that. You want to throttle him for how he’s treating this like it’s casual and easy, like every time he says wife it’s not so quietly cruel to your heart. How it flutters and glows before withering, because you’ll never have that. Dean always says wife with a teasing voice and nudge of your shoulder, and you can only grin at him like it’s not killing you, reminding you of what you can’t have.

But you can’t hate Dean. You don’t really know how to hate Dean. And he doesn’t know that this is like torture, because he really thinks you’re happy with this. Not just the fake wife thing—because you are playing into it, trading the same taunts and jokes and grins—but the very real, no-strings-attached fuck-buddies arrangement you have. Have had for fucking years. The one where you’ll follow him to the ends of the earth and never, ever look back to see what you’d left behind, but all he’s asking is that you stay in his bed and let him fuck you when he asks.

It’s not a bad arrangement. He’s a sex god, he gives as good as he gets, and you’re technically exclusive, but it’s still not what you want. Crave. Desire more than you’ve ever desired anything.

Because you really just want all of Dean. Something he’s never offered anyone‚ will certainly never offer you, and you’re going to chase until it kills you. You’ll warm Dean’s bed and touch his body for as long as you’re allowed, and cling to these small deaths of maybe this could be real until they all finally catch up to your heart. You’ll gather small offerings he drops in your lap without knowing—you’re the only person he looks at, and his eyes don’t seem to stray, and he’s the one who decided you should be fake married—and build a shrine to him along your ribs he’ll never be allowed to see.

But his voice still haunts your dreams with words you feel over your skin where he’s touched you before. Words you’ve heard a million times—so pretty, sweetheart, good girl—and words you’ll never hear. Words that circle your brain and bang on your skull all the fucking time, even in this disgusting, haunting mess of blood. Words that make some small part of you spark whenever you hear Dean’s deep, strong voice say your name, because you’re a little pathetic and you can’t stop praying that he’ll say them. He won’t. He never does. 

He calls your name, and that spark kicks up your spine, and he still doesn’t say them. 

“I got it!” He sounds so proud, and you hate that it makes you smile. “We’re looking at a demon!”

You turn, pushing through the blood to join Dean at where he’s standing at a fireplace, running his finger over the mantle with a twisted expression of disgust.

“Sulfur?” You ask, stopping as close to his side as he can manage, and he shoots you a grin, holding up a bloodied—but blackened—finger. 

“Bingo, Sweetheart.” He winks, obviously missing your open, wanting gape at him as he looks back to the mantle. “Nasty son of bitch, though, I’ve never seen one of those douchebags do this.”

Dean gestures around the room, and you hum an agreement.

“So we’re good?” You ask, standing slightly on your toes to survey the sulfur buildup. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Dean pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’m gonna call my wife, tell her I’ll be home for dinner-“

You whack his arm, and he laughs like a handsome, cocky fucking asshole you still can’t figure out how to hate.

“Your wife is starving, and tired of standing in blood.” You kick your foot through the mess, wrinkling your nose. “Can we please go?”

“I dunno, I think this is kinda romantic.” Dean gives you a shit-eating grin, and you swallow. “I mean, this is freakin’ gross, but it’s just us and all these guts, I think we could waste some time-“

“Shut up.” You shove him, and he doesn’t stop grinning at you. “Haul ass, Winchester, or you’ll be in the fake doghouse.”

He chuckles, rebalancing in a second. “You’re being a little dramatic, kid-“

“Don’t kid me, Dean Winchester, I’m your fake wife. I gave birth to your fake kids-“

“You’ve got some good points,“ Dean drawls your name, pulling you right against his chest, and suddenly the smell of metallic blood is nothing compared to the leather and whiskey and gunpowder of Dean. The sticky heat of the room is overtaken by the heat in your core, the heat of Dean’s breath as he lowers down to kiss right behind your ear, his voice dropping to a deep, teasing growl. “And I’m gonna real fuck you when we get back to the motel. But I gotta call Sam and catch him up, can you-“

You nod, reaching into his pocket to grab the keys, and force yourself not to look back as you leave. You wince slightly as you lean into the Impala—starting the car before rising back up and leaning against the door—but it’s not like she’s never been covered in blood before. This just… a lot more blood than usual.

Dean takes a year to join you, and when he walks out of the building he’s smirking, spreading his arms in a wide aren’t you happy to see me? gesture. 

“Sam’s workin’ it.” He stops right in front of you, too close and never close enough. “Can I buy a pretty lady a beer?”

“You can buy her some food.” You cross your arms, grinning up at him. “I saw a drive-thru down the road, we shouldn’t go inside looking like this.”

“Smart.” He places his hand on your lower back, guiding you around the car and into the passenger’s seat, and just being so fucking impossible as he opens the door and helps you inside. “Greasy fast-food for me and my girl, comin’ right up.”

You have to learn how to hate him. You have to learn how to flip Dean off and mean it, how to not flush and giggle like a schoolgirl with a crush under his attention. He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t know how to mean it, but it still makes your lower gut warm and your face split into a wide, stupid grin when he calls you my girl, drawls your name in the car, and rests his hand on your knee as you pull through the ordering window. When he parks in the lot and you laugh together, his eyes rarely leaving yours and his smile never falling from his face. 

Even when he gets out to use the bathroom—promising he’ll be fast and try, somehow, not to draw attention to how he’s soaked in blood—Dean still grins and winks at you, and you can’t figure out how to shove his chest and shout that this is mean. That he’s mocking you and stringing your heart up on wires to play with, and he can’t be expected to know that but this is so fucking mean. He needs to stop smiling at you, and stop saying wife all the time like it’s real when it’s not. It won’t be, it can’t be, and now that’s going to haunt you forever. 

You sit there for long, lonely minutes while Dean’s gone, trying get as little blood as you can on the upholstery, because Dean had already started grumbling about how much work this is gonna be to clean up and you can’t bring yourself to make anything harder for him. You spiral through the sound of Dean calling you my girl and promising to fuck you, sit in the ghost of his big, warm hand on your body and his chest pressed right against your breasts. The gleam in his eyes that was full of promises, and the fantasy of all the plans he might have for that aforementioned fucking.

Then you hear his phone ring, and you frown. Dean almost never forgets his phone in the car, even if he’s just getting beer or paying for gas. It’s a hazard, to not have it. To not be able to reach you or Sam if he needs to, for you and Sam to not be able to reach him.

And he’s been gone a while. Long enough that your throat starts to form a small lump, and—when you pick up the call—your voice is a little unsteady, your attention on where Dean had disappeared into the building.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, hey.” Sam says your name through the speaker, his tone a little surprised. “Where’s Dean?”

“Bathroom.” You frown at the building, desperate for Dean to just appear, and soothe this horrible twisting in your gut. “What’s up?”

“I figured out what we’re looking at.” You can hear some papers shuffling on Sam’s end, his words slow and careful. “Special kind of demon that feeds off of lustful blood, which explains why he’s been going after all those rich people. Like, ten ladies and five dudes have tried to sleep with me this week, and I know you and Dean got that, uh, offer-“

“Sam.” You mutter, your eyes still on the building. “Can we exercise it?”

“Kind of. We can’t use the normal one, because it’s not a normal demon, but there is a way. And these guys seem to be capable of being injured, more dependent on their vessels or something. So-“

“If we find him we can knock him down,” you mutter. “Hold him until we figure out how to flush him out.”

“Exactly. And I’m trying to work on the flushing part,” Sam sighs, and you can picture his sheepish expression. “But I don’t have it yet. Are you-“

“We’re coming back soon. Do you want us gone a little while longer, so you can focus-“

“No, Dean told me about all the blood. Sounded gross.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “It was. But-“

“I’ll take the car, need to stop at the library anyway.” Sam says your name through the phone, and there’s a sound of pity in it that makes you curl slightly into yourself. “You and Dean can shower, relax, do, uh, whatever you do-“

You sigh. “Please don’t give me permission to fuck your brother, dude. It’s weird.”

“Yeah.” Sam chuckles through the static. “Sorry. I just know he’s been trying to get you alone-“

“He’s always trying to get me alone.” A dumb smile takes over your face as Dean reappears, and he’s fine. Still covered in blood, but grinning at you with a dizzying joy and gleam in his eyes. “I’ll tell him what we’ve got, and text us when you’ve got the exorcism.”

“Will do. Call me if you need anything, or if, uh, I should stay away longer-“

“Suck my dick.”

You end the call as Sam laughs, and look up to find Dean tapping on your window with a smirk. You blink at him, because he might be covered in more blood than before. There’s a bruise on his forehead that wasn’t there a second ago, his shirt is on backwards, and his jacket is drenched, but he’s look at you like he won the lottery, and you’re not sure what the hell is going on.

“Dean,” you frown at him as you roll the window down, your brow furrowed as he braces an arm on the roof of Baby. “Are you-“

He cuts off your words by ducking down, grabbing your chin, and pulling you into a long, mind-numbing, sloppy kiss that leaves you gaping and dumb. Your fingers curling in his shirt, his low chuckle rolling through your body as he pushes his  tongue down your throat, the taste of Dean—lingering burger and sweet soda and salt for your food, plus something innately Dean that’s heady and always leaves a perfect aftertaste on your tongue whenever he kisses you—overtaking the taste of blood just enough override your sense of this is kinda gross, and make you pull him closer.

When Dean pulls back—leaving you starting at him, your breathing ragged and heart trying to escape your chest as he grins at you—he grins at you, his voice a gravely promise. 

“You ready to head back, darlin’?”

You blink at him. He’s never called you darling. Darling doesn’t sound like a Dean word. “Uh, yeah, but are you feeling okay? You were in there a while-“

“Food didn’t sit right,” he shrugs, drawing back up with a last wink. “Trust me, Sweetheart, it ain’t gonna be an issue anymore. I’m all flushed out.”

He rounds the car, and you watch him move with a frown. That’s the Dean swagger-walk, but it’s longer, with almost no urgency. Dean always walks with a least a little urgency, and he calls you Sweetheart but not darlin’, and something is still squeezing around your throat and telling you something’s wrong, when Dean’s right here. He’s winking at you from the driver’s seat, driving with the same cool ease Dean always has behind the wheel, and talking to you like he always does. Like your every word is fascinating and amusing, and you could say the grossest thing in the world but he’d still call you adorable. 

You hate that he does that. It’s perfect and painful, feeding that shrine over your ribs, and almost enough to distract you from how weird he’s being. How he doesn’t seem at all interested to hear about the blood demon, how his first clarification is so Sam’s gonna leave us in the motel, and how he’s growing bolder with his hand on your leg. Trailing fingers lazily up your thigh and grinning when he brushes over the apex of your thighs, chuckling at your small gasp.

“Think we’re ready for that fuckin’, Sweetheart?” He drawls, pulling into the motel lot. “You sure seem real needy-“

“We’re not having sex, Dean, there’s a demon on the loose-“

“A demon Sammy’s handlin’.” He shrugs. “And I’ve been tryin’ to get you alone all freakin’ week. C’mon, we deserve some time together.“ Dean leans forward, smirking at you. “And I know you want it, babygirl. I bet you’re real fuckin’ wet for me.” He reaches up to your face, running his thumb over your lower lip. “So pretty, darlin’-“

There it is again. Darling. Darling, and the excessive drawling, and the slow walk, and the glint in his eyes you’re only now noticing. It’s colder than how Dean ever looks at you. It’s shallow and crude, like he can’t see anything past a pretty face and body, when Dean is—above all else—your friend. When there’s always a shining light when he looks at you that—both amazingly and awfully—reminds you that you’re more than just a body, and he mostly sees you as the best friend he’s ever had. The one he can do this with, because you care about each other too much to complicate things, and who he’ll always respect.

And this doesn’t feel respectful. It doesn’t feel like Dean. His hands are touching you, but there’s something off about them. Dean would be tracing his fingers over your inner thigh, not moving any further until your either grabbed his hand and moved it for him, or downright pleaded for him to touch you. He’d be disgusted by keeping your bloodied clothing in Baby for even a second more, and choose to back you against the motel wall instead of whatever this is. He’d let you get a word in, for your mock sparring and teasing that he always seems to win.

He would’ve worked in a joke about wanting to fuck his wife, because she can be a real brat when he neglects her. And you’d have smacked his chest, and he’d have laughed, raising his brows and saying see? She gets all bitchy and dramatic when I don’t fuck her right.

But Dean’s not doing that right now. And when you reach over the seat, trailing your hand up his chest in a pretend gesture of need, you feel it. 

Warm, sticky blood that’s fresh, and seeping through his shirt. Pouring from a wound you can feel the dip of, that somehow doesn’t make him flinch when you press slightly on it.

A wound right over his anti-possession tattoo.

You move before the demon—not Dean, this isn’t Dean, and you feel fucking ill—can register what’s happening. You pull one of the Impala’s random guns out from the glove compartment, thank a God who’s obviously not listening that it’s weighed and heavy, and ram the butt of it into Dean’s temple. Not hard enough to kill him—you do want your Dean back after this— but hard enough to knock him out. To buy you enough time to grab his by the neck of his jacket and drag him out of the impala. You kick open the motel room door, scream to Sam for help, and haul him into a chair. Sam ties him down, while you take long, deep breathes, and your words are soft and short when you finally manage to speak.

“He’s possessed.” You whisper, starting at the floor. “They carved through the tattoo.”

“Shit,” Sam starts to pace, and there’s a ringing in your ears that makes it hard to hear him. “It’s-“

You nod. “The blood demon.”

“Are you good to stay here?” Sam marches over to the table and shoving his laptop into his bag. “I’ll go to the library, find what we’re looking for, and call you when I’ve got it. Okay?”

You nod, trying not flinch at Sam’s sympathetic pat of your shoulder, and stare at Dean as Sam leaves. You feel vile. That’s not Dean, but it’s Dean’s body. Dean will still be injured when you get this piece of shit out of his body. He’ll still be covered in bloody, disgusting clothing, and he’ll remember you knocking him out. He’ll ask questions that you’ll have to answer, about how you knew. And you’ll have to tell him that you just did. You’ll leave out the part about how you have every piece of him memorized to worship, so that even if the demon had tried a little harder to pretend to be Dean, you probably still would have caught on. You’d recognizes Dean’s bones in the grave. You’d recognize his voice in space. You’d recognize him just fucking near you if you were being waterboarded and flayed alive. And you’ll have to look him in the eyes and say the painfully basic and obscuring answer of I just did, and that will hurt.

But you have time to practice. The demon’s still knocked out in Dean’s body, and Sam’s taking too long to figure this out, but you don’t have anywhere to be. You can tug Dean’s jacket off his body with a mumbled apology he can’t hear, and busy yourself trying to clean it. You can’t stop looking at him—battered, vulnerable, his face so painfully slack—and the warm, soap-covered cloth isn’t enough to keep you from spiraling. From flinching as the blood, Dean’s blood, becomes red bubbles, and trying to convince yourself that this isn’t going to be so impossibly horrible. That, maybe, the demon just won’t wake up, and you won’t have to do anything but clean Dean’s jacket until Sam gets back

But you’re not that lucky.

Pretty, green eyes that are but don’t look like Dean’s flutter open, the demon drops any pretense of playing pretend, and your skin begins to crawl as it speaks.

“Good mornin’,” it leers at you from the chair, pulling slightly on the bonds. “Aren’t you a pretty sight to see after some forced shut eye.”

You start to scrub on the leather to a degree that can’t be helpful, your knuckles white. 

“Knockin’ us out wasn’t very nice to your friend in here, Sweetheart. He’s awfully torn up about it. Feelin’ like he failed you, beggin’ me not to hurt you, hates that I was able to get the up on him and touch you at all. But can I tell you a secret,” the demon says your name, and your blood curls in your body. “He really wants to touch you himself. You’ve got a real dirty minded fellow on your hands. Who woulda thought the great Dean Winchester’s weakness would be a smart-mouthed bitch-“

The demon seems to choke on that last word, and when your gaze shoots up Dean’s body looks like it’s in pain. He’s curving into himself—his eyes screwed shut and sweat forming on his brow—and you’re moving before you know what’s happening. Jumping out of your seat and grabbing his face between your hands, your voice high and frantic over the blood pounding in your ears.

“Dean?” You run your thumb over his cheek, and he twitches, like he can’t figure out if he wants to flinch away or lean into your touch. “Shit, Dean, I need you to talk to me-“

Dean’s eyes snap open—that foul glint still rooted deep into them—and he laughs as you jerk away like he’d burned you.

“I’ll give ‘im this.” The demon says, the words still slightly strained. “He ain’t an easy ride. Keeps tryin’ to break out and talk to you, tell you not to listen to me and go find Sammy.” The demon laughs again, and it might be the worst sound you’ve ever heard. It’s Dean’s laugh, but inverted. Cold and hateful and wrong. This is so fucking wrong.

“Shut up.” You mutter, taking an unsteady step back, and the demon raises Dean’s brows.

“Well, darlin’, you’re just breakin’ poor Dean’s heart. Hurtin’ him, tellin’ him to shut up, tyin’ him up-“ The demon cuts himself off, twisting Dean’s face into a smirk. “Well, that one’s a funny little case, ain’t it. He’s too much of a pathetic little bitch to admit it-“

You scowl, standing a little taller. “Dean’s notpathetic-“

The demon pushes on as if you’d said nothing at all. “But he’s kinda into this. Likes the idea of you havin’ some fun with him however you want, pleasin’ you however you like, or,” the Demon’s grin grows mocking and crude. “Switchin’ places. Keepin’ you down to find out if he can make you scream louder than when he does that thing with his tongue, see if he can get you beggin’ all pretty. Nothin’ gets him goin’ more than when you beg-“

“Shut up.“ You hiss, grabbing your phone off your bed. “I don’t know what your fucking angle is, but I’d recommend you get out of my-“ you catch yourself, taking a short breath before plowing on. “Out of Dean-“

The demon caught it, though, and his smirk grows. “Your what? He ain’t your boyfriend, darlin’. But Jesus, he hates that too. I don’t think you’d keep indulgin’ this asshole if you could spend a second in here with ‘im like I am. He’s fuckin’ obsessed with you, it’s goddamn pathetic-“

You clench your jaw so hard you might break teeth, your movements rough as you scroll for Sam’s contact. “I said shut up-“

“He thinks he’s fuckin’ poison.” The demon sneers, and you can’t look at Dean’s face—can’t see it cruel and filled with hate—or you might start crying. “And shit, darlin’, he’d like to poison you. He’d like to do everythin’ to you. Fuck ya’ and buy you flowers and marry ya’,” the demon cackles, and you feel a little dizzy. “’S why he’s been doin’ this stupid fuckin’ charade all week. He wants to bruise ya’ and bite ya’, then whine and bitch about how he’s so disgustingly in love with you-“ The demon hacks a slight cough, and shakes his head with a mocking grimace. “Makes me fuckin’ sick, how needy and weak this piece of shit is-“

“I said,” you cross back to the chair, fisting Dean’s blood-covered shirt in your hand and yanking him up with cold words and words you hate on your tongue. “Shut the fuck up. And get out of him, before I fucking kill you.”

The demon just laughs at you, spit covering your face. “You ain’t gonna kill me, Sweetheart. Not while I’m in your precious Dean’s body. Not while you got me here, tellin’ you all the nasty things he’d like to do to ya’, how he worships the ground your fuckin’ walk on and dreams about you sayin’ you love a pile of trash like him-“

You tear off your own jacket, bundle up the sleeve, and stuff it the demons mouth. You don’t fucking care if it’s trapped in Dean’s body until Sam gets back, you can’t keep listening to it. Listening to it fucking lie and rip you apart with only words, watch it eyes gleam as it puppets Dean’s mouth to torture you. Why the fuck would it say things like that. It can’t be to hurt Dean, because all he’ll have to do is tell you when this is over that he’s sorry about what the demon said, and that it’s all just lies. And the demon doesn’t know—can’t know—that it just ripped your heart out of your chest and ran it through a meat-grinder. It doesn’t make any fucking sense, and you feel like your skin is trying to fly off your body, and Dean’s still covered in blood and it’s horrible- 

Your phone buzzes on the floor—slightly cracked from being suddenly dropped—and it’s Sam. When you pick up he doesn’t wait to hear you before he launches into frantic words, practically shouting into the speaker.

“Found it!” He sounds a little out of breath, and you wouldn’t doubt that he’s been running back to the car. “Can you put me on-“

“Yep.” You press speaker, ripping your jacket out the demons mouth and turning the volume all the way up. “Go.”

Sam starts to recite a long, fancy string of Latin words, and you can’t bear to see Dean’s body thrash and roar and fold in pain, but you need to make sure the demon goes. That when Sam finishes and Dean’s eyes start to flutter, it’s safe to thank Sam, hang up the phone, and fall to your knees at Dean’s side.

“Dean,” you cup his jaw, angling his head slightly back. “Shit, Dean, please say something-“

He moans your name, and you almost start crying in relief, dropping your head carefully onto his leg. 

“I, shit-“ Dean’s voice is hoarse as he pulls slightly at the bonds around him. “I’m happy to see you too, Sweetheart, but I kinda need you do untie me-“

“Fuck, sorry-“ You scramble with the ropes, scanning over his body as you do. “I’m gonna go get Sam’s medkit, can you take your shirt off-“

“Well, I’d usually make you but me some dinner- shit-“ He’d already started to pull his shirt off, his whole body shuddering as his arms tried to raise up. 

“Dean-“

“Gimme three, I’ve got it-“

“No, you don’t. I’m cutting your shirt off, just-“ You move to your feet, pointing a stern finger at him. “Stay.”

He raises his hands, flinching slightly at the movement. “Yes, ma’am.”

Neither of you speak for a long while. You throw yourself entirely into his stitches, tossing the bloodied rags of his shirt into the trash and stealing small at Dean’s handsome, exhausted features. He’s watching you the whole time, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but it’s sure where to start. When he finally clears his throat, you hum, keeping your hands steady on the stitches.

“This fucking sucks.” He grumbles, and you huff a dry laugh. 

“Yeah. It really does.” You pull another stitch through the gash, and Dean winces. “Shit, I’m sorry-“ 

“Don’t apologize.” He mutters. “I should be apologizing to you.” 

You frown up at him, your hands coming to a still. “Why?” 

“I let that asshole get one up on me.” He grunts, refusing to meet your eyes. “Couldn’t get a hold over him, either. Let him say all that shit to you-“ 

Something cracks in your heart, but you just shrug. “That’s not on you, Dean. Demon’s lie, you don’t have to explain it-“ 

Now Dean’s frowning at you. “What?” 

“The demon,” you mumble, your face flushing slightly. “What he said. I get it, it’s what they do, you don’t need to-“ 

“The demon didn’t,” Dean coughs, his face redder than you’ve ever seen it, his voice almost nervous. “It didn’t lie. He was a dick about how he said it, but he didn’t lie.”

“I, um, I don’t-“ You gape at him for a long second, trying to figure out if he’s joking. This isn’t something Dean would joke about, but that just means you must have heard him wrong. The demon said Dean loved you, and Dean didn’t love you—you haven’t even allowed yourself to entertain the thought outside of secret fantasies and feverish dreams—so the demon lied. The demon lied. The demon had to have lied, but why would Dean-

He says your name, tone cautious and features soft when you blink at him. “Lost you for a second, Sweetheart, are you-“

“I’m okay.” You mumble, refocusing on the stiches. “I’m probably just tired, I thought I heard you say-“

“That I love you?”

You swallow. There it is again. “I-“

He says your name again, careful fingers brushing hair from your face. “Look at me.”

You can’t. You don’t know what’s going on, and there’s still so much blood. 

Dean hand moving under your chin and guides your gaze up, you lips parting slightly as your eyes meet his. He’s scanning over you, a slight furrow to his brow, and you can’t stop your hand from moving up and wiping a little blood off his cheek.

“Dean-“

“Never mind.” He mutters, shaking his head slightly. “Thought that we, uh, never mind.”

When you finish the stitches—your hands shaking slightly, your head spinning with confusion—you force him to shower first. It gives you time to spiral down, down, down, your brain turning desperately to figure out what that was. Why Dean would say that, why he’s acting so strange, why the demon would say that, why Sam’s being such a dick and insisting that he’s getting a second room, because Dean would—allegedly—rather have you here as the three of you had already been rotating through the floor, couch, and bed. 

Which means you’re stuck with alone Dean for the night. And he’s not fully looking at you when he exits the shower, and you’re mostly just mumbling to each other, and he doesn’t love you but he looks like a kicked puppy. He picks up your own blood-covered jacket, helps you carefully out of your seat, takes the soapy rag from your hands, and flat out refuses to sit until you move to the shower.

And the water doesn’t help. You feel cleaner, but the steam makes your head spin all the more, and you can’t stop picturing Dean’s fallen, almost pained features, and playing the demons words over in your mind.

Dean’s disgustingly in love with you. He worships the ground you walk on and dreams about you saying you love him. And you do love him, but he doesn’t love you, and it’s dangerous to hope that he’d love you, and-

And he still looks so beaten down when you exit the shower. He barely looks at you as you cross the room, his attention wholly on your jacket, and when you drop on the bed and clear your throat, you could sworn he pales.

“Are you,” you swallow, forcing your voice to be stronger. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yep” He mutters, still not looking up. “Stitches are fine, Sweetheart. Good work.”

You flush slightly, but push on. “And your head?”

“Pounding like a bitch, but I’ve gotten through worse.” He shrugs, and words start to creep like vomit up your throat. “We’ll grab Sam in the morning and get goin’-“

“What did you mean?” You blurt, and Dean freezes. “When you said the demon wasn’t lying?”

Dean sighs, and drops the rag, running his hands over his face before turning to you, his voice low and elbows braced on his knees. “What I said.” He grunts, his eyes now refusing to leave yours. “He didn’t lie.”

“About-“

“All of it.”

Your breathing is shallow, your voice barely a whisper, but you have to ask. It will ruin everything, but you need to ask.

But you’re a coward, and you ask the wrong thing.

“Why did you tell the country club we were married?”

Dean lets out a low, humorless chuckle. “Because I thought it would be fun. I’d get to call you my wife and see you blush all freakin’ week, and this case was gonna be shit so I thought what the hell.”

“Oh.” You whisper, unsure what to make of that. “Okay.”

Dean still doesn’t look away. If anything his eyes sear into you as his voice drops lower, his expression darkness and unreadable. “How’d you figure out I was possessed?”

You’d practiced this. You just did. You just knew it wasn’t him. That’s all you have to say, and you can’t. Something grabs your tongue and all you can say is the truth.

“Because I know you.” You mumble, unable to break his gaze. “And that wasn’t my Dean.”

“Your Dean,” He chuckles, shaking his head like he doesn’t believe you. “Wasn’t sure I was your anything, kid-“

“Well, I didn’t think you loved me.” 

You say the words before you can actually think them through, and time freezes. Dust seems to the hanging static in the air, red water still and motionless on the table, the hum of the bathroom fan stuck on one long note, and you and Dean both trapped in place. Neither of you strong enough to speak, but not weak enough to run, and why did you say that, Dean doesn’t love you-

“I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.” He’s searching over your face, words low and whole body tensed. “And I’d try to take it back for you, but-“

“Don’t take it back!” You almost yelp, and Dean’s eyes widen slightly. “I don’t want you to take it back, I just- I don’t-“

“You don’t believe me.” 

You nod weakly, wishing he would look away. Wishing Dean would just let you curl into yourself and hide for a million years, until this ends. Until this sore heat of shame over your skin and blooming warmth of hope that Dean might, maybe, really, possibly love you both die a quiet, easy death.

But he doesn’t look away. Dean pushes himself out of the chair with a grunt, walks on unsteady legs to stand before you, and takes your face between his hand, his words deep and firm.

“I love you,” he says your name, lowering his face to yours. “And I know it’s not what you want, but I do. I won’t apologize for it, but if you’re done messing around with me because of that, I’m never gonna make you pretend you love me back-“

You’d been sent into a daze of Dean loves you, he’s saying it himself and it’s the truth and he loves you, and that snaps you out of it. You close the last breath of space between your lips without effort, and this is a long, lazy, peaceful kiss that people without blood and demons would have. It’s cementing, steeling it fully into you that Dean loves you. You’ll never have to try and force yourself to hate him, because it’s shit work to hate Dean Winchester and there’s no point it anymore. He loves you, and it’s impossible to doubt that he loves you when he’s kissing you like this—not invasive but deep, not demanding but still dragging small moans and happy sighs from your throat, holding your cheek with one hand and cupping the back of your head with the other—so it’s not a war with yourself push him back a little and finally say words that have been stuck in your throat for years.

“I love you too.” You smile at him, and his eyes flash. “I don’t have to pretend, and this is what I want, so please,” you take a shaking breath, moving your hand to hold his against you. “Please don’t apologize for this. And please,” you lean a little further forward, bumping your nose with his as he continues to stare. “Keep messing around with me, Dean. I love you, so I’d-“

You cut yourself off with a squeak as Dean pulls you back into a kiss, this one heavier and sloppier, leaving you with ragged breath and puffed lips. Your hands curl into his shirt as he drops onto the bed at your side, hauls you over him with only a low, slightly pained grunt, and looks up at you with a slight frown on his face.

“That son of a bitch kissed you.”

“I thought it was you,” you mumble, tracing a small patten on his chest with one finger. “Sorry-“

“I’m not mad at you,” Dean gives you an amused look, pressing another, smaller kiss to your lips. “I’m mad at that douchebag, for trying to get with my girl.”

His words are mumbled against your lips, settling deep and warm in your stomach, and you can barely manage a hum of, “Oh. Okay.”

He chuckles, his hand moving under your shirt to run up the skin of your waist, your body shivering with pleasure at the touch. “I’d like to fuck you,” he mutters your name, his eyes on yours so attentive and dark that you might agree to jump off a cliff if he asks. “But my doctor said I need to take it easy-“

“I’m your doctor,” you gasp, dropping your brow to Dean’s as he brushes the underside of your breast. “And I think that- shit, Dean-“ He’s adjusted you in his arms, settling your core right over the obvious, proud bulge in his jeans. “If we take it easy, and you promise to let me stay on top-“

Dean shakes his head, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. “That’s gonna be a real hard,” he ruts up into you, and you whimper. “Promise to keep, babygirl-“

“Well it’s that,” you lean back, giving him a stern glare. “Or nothing, Winchester. Your choice.”

He gives you a look of mock disbelief. “I can’t believe I fake married someone so freakin’ mean to me-“

“I can.” You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, your own lips curling up slightly. “What’s it gonna be.”

Dean narrows his eyes at you, his hand trailing down your stomach to cup you right over your pussy as he drawls. “I think you should make that choice, Sweetheart. Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.”

“I-“ You lean forwards, burying your face in his neck to try and stifle your moans. “I already-“

“You said you stay on top, but that can mean a million things,” he mutters your name, kissing right under your ear. “I can fuck up into you, or you can ride me, or,” Dean starts to rub you through your pants, his thumb drawing rough, taunting circle over your clit. “I can finger fuck this pretty pussy until you cum all over my fuckin’ hand.”

“Dean,” you moan against his skin, your nails digging into his back. “Fuck, I-“

“This,” he moves his free hand up, playing with the waistband of your pants. “Seems to be getting in our way. Take it off for me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice. You almost scramble to pull off your clothing—still manage to shoot Dean a glare for his low, teasing wolf-whistle when you’re fully bare before him—and almost throw yourself back onto him before you freeze. He’s still dressed—you can see the outline of where his pants must be becoming painful—and he’s still hurt. That’s why you had to stay on top in the first place. Dean won’t say it, but he’s in pain, and that’s more important than sex. You’re aching for him between your legs, you whole body whining to be pressed to his, but you can’t let him injure himself.

So you drop to your knees, help him out of his pants and boxers—feeling Dean track your every movement, remaining silent as you work—and swallow as his cock springs into view. You’ll never get tired of the sight of it. Big and meant to fit so well inside of you, pretty because it’s Dean’s, and he’s not really capable of being ugly.

Dean grunts your name as you take him in your hand, your fingers trailing over his strong thighs as you start to pump him slowly.

You smile up at him, raising your brows. “Do you like that?”

“Of course I fucking like that-“

“Do you love me?”

You say the words innocently, squeezing your hand lightly, and he blushes slightly, throwing his head back as he groans. “Shit, Sweetheart, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me-“

“I do,” you whisper, pressing an open mouth kissed to the broad, red tip of his cock. “You do it to me too.”

“’S not-“ You take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and letting him bump against your throat, and he cuts himself off with another groan. “Fuck, ’s not the same-“

You pop off of him with a frown. “It is. I love you too.”

“I know, pretty girl.” He mutters, moving hold your cheek, his cock twitching in your hands as you lean into the touch. “But you don’t gotta do this for me just cause you love me-“

“I like doing it.” You shrug, licking a long stripe up his shaft to prove your point, savoring the grunt it draws from his chest, the way his hand moves to fist in your hair. “I might love you, Dean Winchester,” you grin at him, replacing your mouth with your hand as you speak. “But I also really just like sucking your cock.”

“Son of a-“ Dean’s voice is a growl, his eyes darting over your face like he’s looking for something. “You’re- fuck it.”

You squeak as he pulls you up, back to his lap, and impales you on his cock in one smooth motion. 

“Dean!” You try to gain a little power over your mouth, your fingers running over his fresh stitches. “Your doctor did not, fuck-“ He rolls his hips, and you bite your tongue to stop your moan. “Winchester, your doctor did not approve picking heavy things up-“

“You’re not that heavy.” He shrugs, kissing your shoulder as his arm braces you against this chest, his words teasing and low. “And lucky me, my fake doctor is also my fake wife, and they’re both,” he moves his mouth back over yours, muttering against your lips. “Begging me to fuck them all pretty.” His other arm wraps around you, starting to guide the rolls of your hips, his eyes on yours so soft for how he’s splitting you open and bumping against the deepest places inside of you. “And get them to cum all over my fuckin’ cock.”

You moan, throwing your head back as you start to grind down on him, and you’ve done this a million times before, but it feels different. You’ve fucked Dean enough that you must have covered every base—rough and fast and soft and slow and teasing and desperate and angry and blissful—and it’s the same to your body, but different to your mind. Dean’s hands still ignite fire on your skin as he holds you as close as he can manage, but you’re not worried about how they might drop away. He’s still kissing you everywhere he can reach, but there’s nothing turning in your head about how he might not like what he tastes. He’s doing it all right—he always does it right—but it’s so much more.

You squeeze around his cock and he moans your name, almost pinning you into his laps as he latches his mouth to your upper chest. Sucking and nipping you where people can see. He’s always kept his small habit of marking you to where it won’t be visible, where people won’t jokingly ask you who got messy. But people will see this, and he knows that, and it seems to spur him on. His mouth crashes back into yours, his hands keeping your rhythm on him steady as his mouth and cock unravel you above him.

“You gonna cum, Sweetheart?” Dean growls down your throat, and you just nod frantically, swiveling your hips around him. 

“So close,” you whine, trying to find just a little more friction. “Please, Dean-“

He starts to slam up into you, holding you steady with one arm as he leans back, bracing himself on the bed. His stitches are somehow still closed, he’s looking at you like you’re all the world gathered for him to hold, and his mouth is lowering to pull your nipple between his teeth. Keeping you right on the edge as his thrusts grow uneven, his hands bruising on your skin in the best way.

“Fuck, you wanna cum with me, babygirl?” He groans, flicking your nipple with his tongue before pulling you down to him, dragging you into a kiss of spit and need and pure fucking desire. “Think you can ask me real pretty-“

“Please. Please, Dean, please.” You gasp, your clit starting to rub against his abdomen, your whole body so close to bursting into flames. “So fucking close, need it so bad-“

He bites on your lower lip, smirking at your high whine. “Good girl.” He jerks up into you one last time, the movement rough and uncontrolled, and groans into your ear. “Cum.”

You might have screamed, but everything goes blinding and loud and holy like a hymn you only know in the language of Dean, and you never want to stop singing for the rest of your life. You can hear him shouting your name as he spills up into you, but you’re so high on your pleasure— on the smell of Dean everywhere around you and his lingering taste on your tongue—that it’s distant and only a rush of good. Dean feels good, and he’s muttering in your ear that he loves you, so you think everything might be really good.

And it is. This isn’t blood or work. This is Dean’s cock still buried inside you, his hot, warm cum running down your thighs, and your hands tracing over his warm skin to check that his stitches are still together. This is your face pressed into the crook of Dean’s neck, his hands combing through your hair, and a priceless sense of peace. It’s always lingered before, but it would wash away as you both left the bed, and drift into nothing as you wandered back into the real world. It feels more certain now. It feels more set into your bones, and you know you’ll see more blood and stitch more wounds, but this is going to stay. Dean is going to stay, and you have all of him. And that’s welcoming this sense of peace that’s so finite and rare, you’d have to be insane to let it go. 

So you won’t. And you won’t have to cling to him, because Dean isn’t foolish enough to let you go either. You’ll keep all of Dean, he’ll do the same for you, and he’ll keep igniting a spark in your gut by saying my girl that you won’t ever allow to go out. 

End Note: Look! A Rare Dean Winchester dealing with his own emotions! Spotted in the wild! And I am physically incapable of writing a short one-shot, and I'm very sorry about that.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature

[evielmostdefinitely]

Pls do something with peacekeeper!Coriolanus I have yet to see anyone do that trope + I feel like he’s more mean and protective in that era

mastermind |peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: based off above prompt, but wanted to tweak it a teeny tiny bit so this is how coriolanus meets capitol!reader. the plot of the original film is altered a little to fit this.

contains: tw- violence, guns, shooting. dark, protective, manipulative coriolanus. not super heavy, but there are some kinda darkish themes so read at your own discretion.

“Snow,” Commander Hoff’s gruff voice rang through the doorway, hitting Coriolanous head on, his heart lurching with fear. They found out about Lucy Gray, that she’d escaped after Mayfair and Billy’s death. Or maybe worse, maybe she hadn’t headed north, maybe she’d told them. 

His mind raced as he took a step forward, helmet in hand respectfully, hoping Hoff wouldn’t see the way his hands trembled. “Commander, Sir.” Snow held his head high. If this was to be the end, he wouldn’t go out crying. Not like Sejanus- no, Corio would have pride. 

Hoff set the papers down on his desk with a huff, head jerking back for Coriolanus to come towards him. “Snow, I need you to escort Miss Duke to the Mayor’s office.” He nodded towards the corner. “I guess with the recent tragedy of his daughter, Mayor Mayfield’s mind has been elsewhere. He didn’t get his quarterly tesserae count turned in. The Capitol sent Miss Duke to get them, so make sure she gets there.” 

Coriolanus’ eyes wandered to you, standing in the corner properly, hands clasped elegantly in front of you. A shining beacon in the dark skies of the coal country, a glimmering ray of good after all the bad Corio had. He could tell you were from The Capitol, though you tried to dress more humbly for the visit to the district, he supposed. 

You gave him a smile, and for a moment, Corio’s heart leapt with excitement. That familiar rush of heat returning, coursing through his chest. “Private Snow will take you there, Miss Duke. He’s one of our best. On his way to officer training in Two. You’re in good hands.” Commander Hoff nodded. 

You thanked him quietly, kitten heels clicking across the hardwood floors. Coriolanus followed you, trying to keep his stoic expression, though his eyes wandered to the swell of your ass, hugged perfectly in your dress. 

“Snow,” Commander Hoff called before he left. “A word?” 

The icy chill of fear flooded back into Corio’s system, gripping the knob. You didn’t seem to notice, nodding politely, shutting the door behind you. 

“Sir?” Coriolanus swallowed the lump in his throat, approaching the desk slowly. 

Hoff leaned back in his chair. “You know who that is, right?” 

Coriolanus blinked. His mind had been so occupied with his impending doom, his fate had seemed to turn and tread on the worst sides of things, he was so sure it would continue. “Miss Duke?” 

Hoff blinked at him, laughing softly. “Yeah, Duke, Snow.” He pressed. Coriolanus felt dumb, small like he did when he talked to Highbottom. “Snow, does the name Atticus Duke mean anything to you?” 

Coriolanus' eyes widened lightly, turning towards the door in surprise. “Atticus Duke? The-” 

“-The man who owns half of Panem?” Hoff snorted lightly. “Yeah, that’s his youngest out there. Only girl, alright?” 

Coriolanus felt his curiosity peek. He’d been wallowing in the loss of Lucy Gray, he didn’t even put it together. Thinking you were just another Capitol girl. Not the Duke Heiress. 

“Yes, sir. I-I see that now.” Corio nodded dumbly. 

“Good. So you know that her father paid for the destruction of the rebellion? That he funded the Capitol? And that if these people see her, those fucking Rebels are likely to want to hurt her?” Hoff pressed, his eyes narrowed in seriousness. “And that if something happens to her, our entire platoon will be hanging from that tree- or worse?” 

It shouldn’t have made Coriolanus as excited as he was. The thought of having that much power. He could easily have that level of control, have people quaking with fear- even the powerful ones, trembling at his feet the way Atticus Duke did. Oh, how he envied it. How he craved it. 

“Yes, sir.” Coriolanus nodded. 

“Snow, listen to me.” Hoff sat up straight, leaning over the desk. “If any of them get close to her, no mercy- do you understand?” 

Coriolanus nodded again, spine straightening with authority. “I have others trailing and leading the both of you- crowd control, but I wanted her to feel safe. Feel welcome. So I stuck her with you. Figured a familiar face from the Capitol would put her at some ease. Keep her from telling her father something that would have him questioning my rank and order around here.” 

“I understand, Commander.” Coriolanus said firmly. “I’ll keep her safe.” 

“Wow,” You muttered, looking around the cobbled street. The Peacekeepers ahead of you barking orders, scaring off any pedestrians wandering about. “Is it always like this?” 

Corio blinked, his gun cradled in his hand, finger on the trigger- ready. “Always like what?” 

“This,” You waved around you. “It’s very…” 

“Depressing?” Corio muttered, a grumble, eyes scanning the perimeter in front of him over the gray skies and smog filled air. 

“Yeah.” You smiled softly. “I pictured it… prettier?” 

“It’s the coal district, Miss Duke.” Coriolanus said, the barrel of his gun pointed for backup at a scurrying coal miner. 

“So that’s what makes it so sad?” You challenged, brow raised. 

Corio didn’t answer. He knew what you were implying, and he wouldn’t humor it. Instead, his eyes scanned the street. “May I ask why you’re here?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. 

“What?” Corio snapped, harsher than he meant to. 

“Why you’re here?” You repeated. “I, uh, I don’t want to sound rude. I just- I saw you on the games. You were the mentor who won. I just, I figured you would be at University with the others.” 

“I made an enemy. A powerful one.” Corio quipped shortly, jaw set. He couldn’t let his mind race and spiral, not now. He needed to stay focused. 

“Oh,” You muttered, looking down at the wet, broken road. “I’m sorry.” 

Corio’s heart skipped, maybe with joy, maybe with fear. “May I ask you why you’re here?” Coriolanus asked, eyes cutting down towards you. 

“I have to get the count for the tesserae.” You motioned towards the Mayor’s office before you. “I have to take them back to The Capitol.” 

“Yes, but,” Corio paused, scanning the area. “You’re- Surely, you don’t need to do that, Miss Duke.” He muttered, voice dropping to a low octave. 

You blushed, sheepishly looking towards your shoes, ruined from the muck in the road. “So, Commander Hoff briefed you on me?” You grinned. 

Coriolanus didn’t answer. “I already knew.” He lied easily, eyes cutting to you. “We’ve met before. In passing. I was Sejanus’ friend.” 

“Oh,” Your face fell. “Right. I-I am so sorry for your loss. It was-” 

“-Yes.” Corio nodded, the bile rising in his throat. “We-We met at the Academy’s Ball two springs ago.” 

You turned, looking at him fully for the first time. He tried not to blush, icy eyes meeting your own for a moment. “That’s right.” You grinned. “You-You had longer hair. Tigris’ cousin?” 

“Yes.” Coriolanus nodded. 

“She was apprenticing for my aunt.” You smiled softly. 

Corio looked at you, his rigid posture slacking just for a moment, relaxing in your presence. “Why aren’t you doing something like that?” He asked, brows furrowing for a moment. “Or in University, yourself. Surely that would be… more appropriate than this.”

You bit back a smile, chin ducking down. “Maybe.” You shrugged. “I like this job, though. I get to see the Districts.” 

“Why would you ever want to do that?” Corio snarled lightly. “I can’t wait to get out of them. Get away from these people.” He muttered bitterly. 

You blinked at him, eyes narrowing lightly, stopping before the steps of the Mayor’s building. “You seemed quite fond of that song bird you helped win.” You countered. “And she was among these people.” 

Coriolanus was stunned, mouth opening stupidly, before swallowing his jumbled words. Instead, he offered you his arm politely for you to steady yourself on while you climbed the steps to the Mayor’s office. 

Coriolanus waited outside the office at attention while you collected the tesseraes for the quarter from a distraught, and clearly drunken, Mayor Mayfield. His slurred speech, pores sweating out whiskey soaked odor. 

You took the envelope, thanking him before quickly slipping out. Coriolanus stood beside you, falling back into step with you, the other Peacekeepers joining around the two of you. 

“You’re returning to The Capitol today?” Corio asked, though his eyes stayed straight ahead. 

“They asked me to stay the night.” You answered simply. “Something about a train leaving in the morning?” You looked at him carefully. You knew he was to join you with the others. You’d given the orders from Dr. Gaul to Commander Hoff that morning.

Coriolanus frowned, turning to you curiously. “Tomorrow? Why would they make you-” 

The ravenous bark of Peacekeepers in front of you made you jump, a deranged looking man, covered in soot from the mines, charging at you with a vengeful pace. You froze, clutching the envelope in front of you like a shield, glued to the concrete in pure fear. 

“Gimme that envelope, you stupid bitch!” The man roared, mere feet away from you. “Get my daughter’s name outta there! Take it out!” 

You flinched, bracing for the impact of him hitting you, his body hurling towards yours. It never came. Instead, a shot behind you had a gasp tearing from your lungs. The bullet so close to your own head, you heard it whizzing past you like the June Bugs that flew in the fields in the countryside of the district. 

The man grunted, a bloody gurgle, a crimson patch seeping through his stomach. The other Peacekeepers seized him, shouting and grabbing at him, hauling him away roughly. Your hand trembled, pressing to your lips. Coriolanus stood behind you, gun lowering, finger still on the trigger. 

His face was hard, stoic, eyes narrowed dangerously- furiously. “Come on.” Coriolanus muttered, a hand gently on your back, guiding you forwards. The crowds were peering, poking around at the sound of gunshots, the groans and screams of the man. “We need to get you to the Commander’s Quarters.” 

“Snow, hey, look we-we didn’t see him-” One Peacekeeper jogged frantically, hands trembling in fear. “He just- He came out of nowhere. I’m so sorry, Miss.” 

“It’s alrig-” 

“-Come on.” Coriolanus hissed, cutting your apology off short. “We need to get her back quickly. Can you manage that?” He snapped at the other boy. 

The other boy faltered for a moment, scrambling back into line. You were still shaking, pushed into Corio’s side far closer than what would be appropriate for two strangers. “He-He was just saying sorry.” You muttered, your own eyes scanning around you. 

“He nearly got you killed.” Coriolanus snapped, his eyes hard but they never met your gaze, scanning around you protectively. “His carelessness nearly cost you your life.” Cost us all our lives, Corio thought. 

You didn’t respond, only stepping with his quickened pace. 

“Are you alright?” You asked Coriolanus, peeking around the corner of the train station towards him. 

He was surprised to see you, though he supposed he shouldn’t have been. He assumed the ‘Princess of Panem’ would have her own private carriage on the train, not subjected to riding with him. 

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that.” Corio gave a half smile, a tone much lighter than it was before. 

You blushed, looking down. “I’m alright.” You sighed lightly. “I told your Commander that. I promise I don’t need an escort back to The Capitol.” 

Coriolanus looked down at his bags. “I’m not- I’m returning to The Capitol as well.” He said, chest boasting at the words. 

“Oh?” You lifted a brow. “No District Two?” 

“No,” Corio shook his head. “I’ve been asked to return.” It was vague, and he knew it- knew it piqued your interest. 

“Well, congratulations. I’m sure your family will be excited.” You smiled politely, lifting your own overnight bag when the train doors opened. 

“Here,” Coriolanus stopped you, reaching for the strap of the bags. Your hands brushed in the smallest way. Overlapping as he took the bag politely, a surge of electricity jolted between both of you, rapid sparks that would crescendo in the days, weeks, years to come. 

You blushed, turning your head to hide the way it flustered you. It was so embarrassingly juvenile, his eyes sparkling, lips tugging in a grin when he looked at you, pinky grazing over your knuckle just for a moment before he held the bag. 

“Allow me.” Coriolanus was smug, proud, pulling the bag up. He let you on first, placing the bags away, eyes cutting towards you. You were stealing a glance at him, turning after being caught sheepishly. 

You had the window seat, looking out at the smoggy station. “Is this seat taken?” Corio asked, hand resting on the arm of the seat next to you. 

You shook your head, moving your hands to your lap. You were so poised, Corio knew it had been drilled into your head since you were young, just as it was to him. His mind raced with excitement, the idea of getting you to be so improper, defile you. 

“Do you know your orders once you return?” You asked, looking at him carefully. The trains whistle trilling in the background. 

“I’m not sure.” It was a complete lie, he only knew a fraction of what awaited him when he returned. All the more reason he needed an ally, a powerful one at that. 

“Why?” Corio pressed, leaning forward to look at you. His dog tags hung loosely around his neck, draping over his underclothes of his uniform. It made your heart race. 

“I was just curious.” You shrugged, swallowing gently. 

“You were wanting to see me again?” Corio pressed, boldly. His heart skipped when you whipped around, staring at him with a wide eyed expression. 

“W-What?” You choked out, trying to remain calm, composed, but your heart was beating so fastly you were sure it would burst. 

“Were you wanting to see me again?” Coriolanus hummed, shifting in his seat to turn towards you. You were pressed against the glass, pinned by his gaze. “Because I was hoping to see you again. If you’d have me.” 

“You would?” You squeaked, sure that your fluster was apparent all over your face. 

“If you’d let me.” Corio purred smoothly. “I’d like to take you out sometime. Get to know you better. I’m very,” His fingers brushed over your own hand, satisfied at how you shuddered. “Interested in getting to know you.” 

You swallowed. No man had ever been so direct with you. He’d saved you the night before, so effortlessly. The feeling of his bicep around you, shielding you away, strong and steady. It had you sneaking your fingers between your thighs later that night shamefully at the thought. 

“I-I would like that.” You nodded, mind screaming when his hand held your, cradled with such care, you almost forgot how brutal he was yesterday. 

“Tomorrow?” Coriolanus asked, head tilting to the side. He wanted to set the date before you forgot, before you had time to ask around about him or think too much about his actions before. 

“That-That would be lovely.” You nodded, tongue swelling thickly in your mouth, heart hammering as he pushed closer and closer. 

His hand cradled your jaw softly, thumb stroking over your cheek bone. “May I?” Corio hummed, eyes lustful. 

You nodded. You weren’t quite sure why, you’d certainly never done something like this before. But then his lips were on you, hand cradling your jaw, moving to the back of your head gently. He migrated into your chair, somewhere between the Districts, hands on your back, pulling you in closer and closer. He kissed you like a man starved, possessively and passionately all at once- it made your head spin. 

It dawned on Coriolanus, what Dr. Gaul was talking about. Sacrifice, while brutal, was necessary. Losing Lucy Gray, Sejanus, without that would it have ever brought you to him? He would be in the woods, starving with a girl who nearly used him to survive, or hanging from a tree next to Sejanus. Certainly not sitting side by side in the train car, stealing small smiles and gentle kisses with you. His fate had turned, re-routed and he could see it now- his future, his empire with you. 

[lacydollette]

⋆˙⟡ BLESSING IN DISGUISE ⋆˙⟡

CHAPTER FOUR

PAIRING lovely kook!reader x rafe cameron

SUMMARY while you try to embrace your newfound independence, it's rafe who shatters it into pieces, confronting you at the annual Midsummer Party on Figure Eight and reopening old wounds you had hoped were sealed for good.

WARNING(S) toxic ex bf!rafe, inspired by s1 ep 5 midsummer, reader teasing rafe, flirting, reader being a little brat, rafe being an asshole, violence, explicit language, panic attack, mentions of rehab, drug abuse, barry, objectification

Rays of sunshine fell through your window, waking you up earlier than you wanted. With a sigh, you flopped over to your other side, rubbing your eyes—and that’s when you saw it. The light blue dress hanging on your closet door. Your stomach sank. You hadn’t seen that dress in over a year. It was the dress. The one you had picked out with Rafe on a random afternoon when everything between you two still felt… perfect. You’d been so excited for Midsummers back then, but now? You barely wanted to go. There’d be no y/n and Rafe. Just you, showing up, pretending like you didn’t care.

“Whatever,” you mumbled under your breath, sitting up and shaking off the thought. This year would be different. You weren’t Rafe Cameron’s girlfriend anymore, and you didn’t want anyone else to think that you still were. And if nothing else, at least you would have Kiara by your side.

Kie showed up at your house with her loose curls pinned up and a breathtakingly lilac dress. She kicked off her shoes at the door like she’d lived at your house her whole life and flopped onto your velvety sheets. “Alright,” she said, grinning as she rummaged through her bag. “If we’re already being forced to go, we’re at least going full kook tonight. That dress? You’re wearing it. Period.”

You just rolled your eyes but smiled anyway. She was right.

As you two got ready you talked about literally everything—the latest chaos, school gossip and other stuff, kie was really growing to be one of your favorite people, which you’d never guessed in a million years. But just then her tone shifted.

“So,” she said, glancing at you through the mirror. “What’s going on with you and JJ?” You froze, your lipliner hovering mid-air. “What are you talking about?” You said, playing dumb.

Kiara smirked, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “Come on. Don’t act like I didn’t see you two being all over each other at the beach two days ago. And don’t even get me started on the way JJ looks at you.” You felt your cheeks heat up. “He doesn’t look at me like anything.”

Kiara let out a dramatic groan, flopping back on the bed. “Girl. He stopped talking when you walked by the other day. JJ doesn’t stop talking for anyone. The boy’s into you. It’s painfully obvious.” You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to brush it off. “He’s just… JJ, you know? He’s always like that.”

Kiara sat up, pointing a makeup brush at you. “No, he’s not. Trust me, I know JJ. He doesn’t flirt like that unless he’s serious. And honestly? I think he’s good for you.” You blinked. “Good for me? You do realize who we’re talking about, right?”

Kiara shrugged. “He’s a good guy, y/n. Messy, sure, but he cares about people. And I can tell he cares about you. And for the record, I saw how you were looking at him, too.”

You definitely didn’t have a comeback for that. You weren’t used to being this vulnerable, especially after everything with Rafe. But as you glanced at your reflection—at the light blue dress and the spark of something new in your eyes—you couldn’t help but wonder if Kie was right. The idea of JJ actually being into you made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t ready to admit just yet.

“Maybe tonight won’t be so bad,” you said softly. Kiara grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

The Country Club was buzzing, but not in a good way, it was the kind of energy that made your skin crawl. Voices and laughter echoing from everywhere, mixing with the clinking of champagne glasses and the soft hum of a string quartet playing some bougie classical piece no one fucking cared about.

You stepped out of your car, smoothing the fabric of your light blue dress as Kie adjusted her earrings. Your nerves were already on edge. You hated the feeling. It reminded you too much of last year when you were practically glued to Rafe’s side, playing the perfect couple for everyone to see. Now, you were the girl who ghosted everyone. A year away, no contact, and now you were back—and definitely not part of Rafe’s world anymore.

“Alright,” you muttered to Kie as you walked up the stone steps together. “Let’s get this over with.” Kie glanced at you, smirking. “Relax. It’s just a bunch of rich people pretending to like each other. We’ll be fine.”

You snorted, but the uneasy feeling in your stomach didn’t leave. You slid off to the side as the crowd shifted toward the main entrance, a low buzz building in the air. You knew what was coming before you even looked. “Seriously?” You muttered, rolling your eyes as the Camerons made their grand entrance. “They still do this?”

Ward led the way, full of his fake charm, with Rose clinging to his arm like some obedient puppy. Sarah was trailing behind, giving her best “I hate this but I have to smile” look. And then there was Rafe.

Your breath hitched, and you froze, nails digging into the palm of your hands. He looked… the same but not. His hair was perfectly styled, his shoulders squared as he scanned the crowd. But what hit you like a punch to the gut was the suit. That suit. The one you picked out together last year. The light jacket, the bowtie, the whole thing—it matched your dress perfectly.

“y/n?” Kiara nudged you, snapping you out of it. “You good?” You forcefully tore your eyes away and shook your head quickly. “Yeah. I just—uh—I need a drink.”

Without waiting for an answer, you slipped away, pushing through the crowd until you reached the bar. The bartender didn’t even blink as you ordered a shot of tequila and tossing it back like you weren’t the girl who once scrunched her nose at the clear liquid and telling Rafe that it tasted like gasoline.

“That bad already?” a voice suddenly hummed behind you. Your whole body tensed. ‘You’re kidding.’ You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, your gaze shifting to the right.

Rafe was leaning against the bar, his lips curved into that familiar smirk, but his eyes… they weren’t smirking. Not even a little. “You look beautiful,” he said, internally cringing at himself. But it was true, you looked stunning and it was more than hard for Rafe to keep his hands to himself.

You blinked, caught off guard for a second. “Thanks,” you said, keeping your voice light. Your eyes flicked to his bowtie, and before you could stop yourself, you reached out, straightening it with a teasing smile. “Didn’t think you’d actually wear this.”

Rafe chuckled lowly, his eyes locked on yours while your closeness got him all dizzy. “I could say the same thing.” You let go of the tie, yet your hands still lingered on the silky fabric of his suit, fingertips brushing over his arm as you tilted your head up at him. You were trying so hard to stay calm, but the way he was looking at you was making your heart pound heavier.

“Dance with me,” he said suddenly, the words just blurting out of him. But you just stared at him, trying to process his words. “What?”

“Come on,” Rafe said, stepping closer. “One dance. For old times’ sake.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Yeah, no. Not happening.”Rafe’s jaw tightened, the smirk slipping just slightly. “Why not? You don’t want me to embarrass myself, do ya?”

Your eyes narrowed, not feeding into his little games. “Oh, don’t start. You and I both know this isn’t about a dance. Besides, you embarrass yourself just fine without me.” Your comment hit him, and you could see the flash of anger in his eyes. Sighing you tried to get away from him, but you you could take a step back, he grabbed your wrist—not hard, but enough to make you stop, his voice now dangerously low.

“Don’t give me that attitude, y/n,” he said, his grip tightening slightly. “What is this? You think you’re better than me now? Is it because you’re hanging out with those dirty pogues?” Your temper flared instantly, yanking your wrist back and glaring at him. What the hell was he thinking? “Oh, don’t you dare—”

“Is there a problem here?” Your dad’s voice suddenly cut through the tension like a knife. Rafe immediately let go of you, standing straighter as he stepped in and nervously licking his lips.

“Mr. y/l/n, it’s so-” Rafe said, his tone polite but stiff, his whole demeanor shifting like a switch had flipped. But your dad wasn’t in the mood for fake niceties. His gaze was ice-cold as he stared Rafe down, you guys’ past not only having a big impact on you, but your parents as well.

“Why don’t you go grab yourself a drink and stay away from my daughter, Mr. Cameron.” he said, his voice low and steady. Rafe’s jaw tightened, but he nodded, taking a step back. “Yes, sir.” Your dad turned towards you, his expression softening just slightly. “You alright?” You nodded, shaking off the tension in your shoulders. “I’m fine.” Your dad hummed to that, his hand on your back as he steered you away from the bar.

Yet you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Rafe was still standing there, his fists clenched, his eyes burning into you, he wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t.

Good. You thought as you saw his longing eyes. Let him feel guilty. You weren’t his anymore. Not tonight. Not ever again.

As the atmosphere around you had cooled down the party was at its peak—loud, fake, and suffocating. You were leaning against the catering table, picking at a tray of shrimp sliders Pope had just put down. “You guys look way too comfortable,” Pope muttered, his voice tired as he adjusted the tray. “Meanwhile, I’ve been running around like a maniac trying to keep my dad off my back.”

Kiara grinned, tossing a shrimp into her mouth. “You’re killing it, Pope. Keep the little rich kids fed, and maybe you’ll get a bonus.”

“Yeah, right,” he said, giving her fake enthusiastic look. “He’ll probably make me wash dishes for being too slow.” You laughed, but your gaze kept drifting across the crowd to where Sarah was practically glued to her family’s side. Ward was talking to some fancy guest, Sarah and Rose standing just behind him like decoration. Sarah’s expression was painful—she wanted to get out of there, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

It was quick, subtle, but you caught it; a pleading look that practically screamed, help me. “Look at Sarah,” you said under your breath, shaking your head. Kie followed your gaze, rolling her eyes when she saw her. “God, she looks like she’s dying. Ward’s probably giving her the you represent the Cameron name speech for the millionth time.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, “Poor girl looks like she’s being held hostage.”Before Kie could respond though, a nervous voice broke through your conversation. “Uh, hi… excuse me?”

You immediately turned, eyebrows raised as you took in the boy standing in front of you. He had brown hair, a slightly oversized suit, and the kind of awkward energy that made you think he’d spent way too much time rehearsing this moment in the mirror.

“Yeah?” You said, crossing your arms. He was kinda cute. He fidgeted, looking everywhere but at you before finally meeting your gaze. “Would you, um… would you like to dance with me?” Kiara choked back a laugh before you flipped around to give her a seriously? look, turning back to the boy right after. “Me?” He nodded quickly. “Yeah. If you want to.”

You hesitated, glancing at Kiara, who was now smirking like this was the best entertainment she’d had all night. Finally, you shrugged. “Sure, why not.” The boy looked relieved as he held out his hand, leading you to the dancefloor.

As soon as you got into the center, his hand gently found your lower back, and you started swaying to the slow rhythm of the music. It was… nice, actually. He wasn’t half-bad at dancing, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it.

But then, like a sixth sense, you felt it—eyes on you. You didn’t even need to turn around to know that is was Rafe who was practically drawing holes through you. He was resting against one of the houses columns, his jaw tight, a glass clutched in his hand as his eyes locked on you, the intensity making it feel like he was right infront of you.

He watched you, you were smiling, spinning in that damn blue dress. That dress was supposed to mean something. It was y’alls . A little piece of history that tied you to him, even if everything else between you two had been torn apart. But now you were wearing it like it didn't matter, swaying on the dance floor with some random guy who didn't even have the decency to wear a suit that fit.

Pathetic.

As you saw him eyeing you, your first instinct was to feel smug. Let him watch. Let him hate it. He deserved to see you living your best life, to know you didn’t need him anymore. But as the seconds dragged on and you saw the way his hand gripped the glass, his knuckles white like he might snap it in half, the satisfaction started to fade. You hated that little flicker of guilt twisting in your chest, hated that your brain wouldn’t stop wishing—just for a second—that it was Rafe’s hand on your back instead, holding you close.

As the song ended the boy smiled at you, oblivious to the danger nearby. You gave him a quick thanks before heading back toward Kie and Pope, and when you glanced back toward the bar, Rafe was gone. While the rest of the night blurred into a series of forced conversations and fake smiles, you had spent most of the evening dodging questions from your parents’ friends about where you’d been for the past year, nodding along to whatever gossip they whispered in your ear.

You’d barely thought about Rafe, convincing yourself it didn’t matter where he’d gone. But that changed when you stepped inside the Country Club to use the bathroom. The hallway was quieter, the muffled sounds of the party echoing in the distance. You were halfway to the bathroom door when a hand grabbed your arm, pulling you harshly into a dark room.

“What the—” you started, yanking your arm back as the door clicked shut, your heart dropping when you turned around. “Rafe?” You asked, voice sharp with irritation. “What the hell are you doing?”

He stood in front of the door, his face unreadable, though his blue eyes burned with something you couldn’t quite place. “I just want to talk,” he said, he just needed to remind you that you weren’t as over him as you pretended to be. You crossed your arms. “Oh, this is what you call talking? Dragging me into a random room? Great start.” You spun toward the door. “I’m not doing this.”

“Wait,” Rafe said, his voice softening. “I mean it. I’m sorry. For earlier. For talking to you like that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You paused, hand on the doorknob, “Wow,” you said bitterly. “An apology from Rafe Cameron himself. Guess there’s a first for everything.”

His jaw tightened, and when he spoke again, his voice was colder. “Don’t do that. Don’t act like I’m the bad guy here.”

“But you are,” you immediately shot back, stepping closer. “You’ve been the bad guy for a long time, Rafe. Nothing’s changed.” He flinched, his eyes flashing with something darker. “And you’ve been acting like a bitch all night,” he said, his voice sharp. The word hit you like a slap to the face, but you refused to let him see it. “There it is,” you laughed sarcastically. “That’s the real Rafe. God, you haven’t changed at all.”

That’s when something in Rafe snapped. His voice rose, frustration spilling out. “Why do you think you get to talk to me like that, huh? Do you even know what you did? You just left, y/n! No warning, no explanation. Do you have any idea what that was like for me?”

“It’s not that—“ you started, but he cut you off immediately. “For fucks sake, y/n. Fucking listen!”

“No.” You raised your voice, not letting him butter you up. “I’m not your little girlfriend anymore that you can just push around.”

“Yeah, you’re not..” he mumbled to himself, before all of his anger and disappointment spilled out of him, “BUT YOU FUCKING WERE BEFORE YOU JUST LEFT WITHOUT SAYIN’ ANYTHING.”

You froze as he screamed at you, your heart pounding in your chest as memories of the past came crashing down on you, “Rafe, calm down,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady, knowing you’d just make it worse if you yelled back at him now.

But he didn’t. His hand curled into a fist, breathing out in frustration and before you could stop him, he slammed it into the wall next to your head.

“FUCK.”

The sound of the wall being smashed echoed in the room, and you flinched as his fist was just inches away from you, immediately covering your face with your hands.

“Stop!” You whimpered out, voice breaking as tears rolled down your cheeks, “Please, just stop!” You collapsed onto your knees, shaking as you sobbed uncontrollably, the panic in you endless.

Just then your sobs snapped him out of it and he froze, staring at the hole in the wall and then at you. Rafe’s mind racing as he realized what he had done. Loosing his temper like that infront of you definitely wasn’t what he wanted.

“y/n,” he said quietly, stepping closer as he reached for you, wanting to comfort you. “I didn’t mean—” You flinched at his approach, “Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, hands trembling as you wiped your tears away.

For a moment, neither of you moved. A few moments later you managed to calm yourself down on your own, getting onto your two feet and stepping toward the door. You just needed to get away from him. Now. As you were about to slip put of the room you turned around one last time, glaring at him.

“You’re dead to me, Rafe. Forever.”

You didn’t look back as you walked out, leaving him alone in the dark, his knuckles still bleeding, and the weight of what he’d just done crushing him.

You didn’t wait to say goodbye or explain yourself to anyone. Your heels clicked sharply against the pavement as you rushed out of the Country Club, the muffled sounds of laughter and music fading behind you. Your chest was tight, hands trembling as you dug your car keys out of your little clutch. You couldn’t stay here—not with everything still buzzing in your head, Rafe’s voice echoing, and the imagery of old memories haunting you.

Sliding into your car, you barely buckled your seatbelt before you started the engine, peeling out of the parking lot. You had no destination in mind, only knowing you needed to get far, far away from the suffocating world of the Kooks. Far away from him.

By the time you reached the Cut, your breathing had evened out, but the knot in your chest was still there. You found yourself turning onto a familiar dirt road, one you hadn’t been on in over a year. When Barry’s rundown trailer came into view, you let out a shaky breath.

Barry’s place hadn’t changed at all. The trailer was still tilted slightly to one side, with old patio furniture spread across the lawn. Lights flickered dimly through the window, and a faint hum of music coming from the trailer.

You climbed out of your car, tugging your dress up slightly to avoid tripping as you walked to the rusty door. You knocked twice before pushing it open, stepping inside. The trailer smelled faintly of smoke and cheap cologne. Barry was leaning against the counter, a beer in his hand, and looked up at you with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” His smirk widened as he took you in. “What’s the occasion? Someone kick you out of the Country Club?” You gave him a look, not in the mood for his teasing. You slammed the door shut, leaning back against it. “Not in the mood, Barry.”

Barry’s smirk didn’t falter though. If anything, it grew. “Oh, she’s feisty tonight.” He took a swig of his beer. “What’s got you so worked up, Princess?” You crossed your arms, the tension in your voice betraying your calm vessel. “I just need to distract myself. Do… do you have anything?”

Barry’s grin returned. “I got exactly what you need.”

Without missing a beat, he motioned for you to follow him to the couch. He rifled through a drawer, pulling out a stash and a grinder. “Sit tight,” he said. “But first, let’s get you outta that dress. You look like you’re gonna burst into flames if you sit on my couch in that thing.” You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t argue. Barry tossed you a pair of joggers and an oversized hoodie. “Here,” he said, chuckling. “Don’t say I don’t take care of you.”

Just when you returned from changing in the tiny bathroom, the living room had filled out a bit. Two guys you vaguely recognized—Nate and Lucas, old friends from the Cut—were slouched on the couch, passing a joint between them. “Hey, stranger,” Nate greeted, his smile lazy and teasing. “Didn’t think we’d see you again. What, the Kooks finally get boring?”

You sank onto the couch beside Barry, who handed you a freshly rolled joint. You shrugged, lighting it and taking a long drag before exhaling, feeling your shoulders start to relax. “Something like that. I’ve been… away.”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Where to?”

“Nowhere fun,” you replied, your tone dry. “Rehab. Or therapy. Whatever you wanna call it. My parents sent me off to this place for, like, rich kids who can’t get their shit together. A full year of group therapy.”

“What, they have you chanting mantras or some shit?” Barry asked, leaning back in his chair. “Pretty much,” you replied, taking another hit. “It was all motivational speeches. They wanted us to ‘find ourselves.’ It was the most brainwashed shit ever.”

“Well, you seem fine now,” Nate said, his eyes trailing over you lazily. “Better than fine, actually. That rehab glow lookin hella good on you. Definitely gave you some of that fine ass back.”

Lucas laughed, dapping Nate up while you rolled your eyes.“Charming as usual, Nate,” you said, laughing despite the obvious objectification. Barry groaned, shaking his head as he threw an empty beer can at Nate. “Quit being a creep, man. You’re embarrassing us.” Nate dodged the can, grinning. “Just statin’ the facts.”

You shook your head, leaning back into the couch as the haze started to settle in. You let the familiar sound of their voices take you in, the tension from earlier finally starting to fade. Here, in Barry’s trailer, the world outside felt miles away.

LINKS .ᐟ series masterlist

TAGS .ᐟ @gibson-g1rl @glitterybombshell @beausling @bunnyrafe @rafescokewhore @rafesweetie @rafeslacy @rafesfawn @rafesangelita @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @dolcekissy @lilithblackkk @maybanksbaby @maybankslover @starkeysprincess @nativegirltapes @rafey-baby @httpsdrewstarkey @moremaybank @cherrygirlfriend @sematarygirls

[vikkirosko]

Can I ask Ciel, Alois, Sebastian, Claude, Ash Landers and Charles Grey with a child reader ?

Reader is the granddaughter of the Queen of England and the next in line to rule England. She's just a little 5 years old girl, but she's the brightest ray of sunshine in this world.

She's a nice child and wants to help her people. She is very close to the people, and isn't scared to go in the poorest part of London (but protected by Charles Grey and Ash) to give charity.

Ash is her butler and for him, reader is the purest soul in existence. He's just mad that reader loves to go to the Phantohive and Trancy mansion...

Thanks !

Platonic headcanons The Queen's granddaughter

♟️ Ciel Phantomhive x kid fem!Reader 👁

Ciel has always followed the Queen's orders. He was a real watchdog who took his job seriously, but of all the royal family, you were the only one who came to him personally. You were the Queen's favorite granddaughter and heir to the throne. Even if you came without an invitation, he could not refuse you, especially since if you came, you always came on business

You wanted to help your people and therefore came to him to help arrange events for the poor. He didn't understand why you always did it yourself and why you were even interested in it, because you were only five years old, but you really took what you were doing very seriously. You sincerely wanted to help people, and maybe that's why ordinary people loved you so much and hoped that you would really become their queen

Every time you prepared events together, you took full part in both the preparation and the event itself. Ciel saw how sincerely you smiled and how you really tried to help not only with words, but also with deeds. You never gave him orders, you didn't take advantage of your position, but you could ask him for anything, and usually earl complied with your requests

Ciel understood that the older you get, the more you will try to do for the people and the country. Perhaps when you get older, under your leadership, England could flourish in a way it has never flourished in all of history

😈 Sebastian Michaelis x kid fem!Reader 🐈‍⬛

Sebastian met you when you arrived at Ciel's. He knew that you were the queen's granddaughter and an important guest at the manor. He always prepared various treats for your arrival, and to his surprise, you always thanked him for it. He had seen many aristocrats, but you seemed to be one of the few who really sincerely thanked not only the owner of the manor, but also the servants for their work

Sometimes you brought small gifts for the servants, including Sebastian. He was surprised by this, but the more often you saw each other, the more he was convinced that your soul was bright and pure. For demons, such a soul was a tasty morsel, and under other circumstances, he would not have been willing to get this piece for himself, but now he had another goal. But that didn't mean that he would miss the opportunity to annoy the angel who was constantly by your side

Sebastian remained polite and courteous to you. He continued to play his role as the perfect butler, watching you try to help people. You were like the princesses from fairy tales, kind, innocent, eager to help the suffering. It seemed funny to him and he was sure that you would continue to keep your soul as pure

Maybe someday, he'll be able to see what kind of princess you'll grow up to be. But for now, you remained a child who tried her best to help her people. For Sebastian, your actions were something naive, but he wasn't going to tell you about it. He continued to watch you change and interact with Ciel, knowing that it could be beneficial

🗡 Charles Grey x kid fem!Reader 🍧

Charles has always done his job well. The Queen entrusted him with important matters, so the fact that she assigned him to be your protector did not cause much surprise. You were the queen's granddaughter and next in line to the throne, but at the same time you were just a five-year-old girl who needed protection. That's why Charles accompanied you every time you left the palace

You often visited the parts of London where the poor lived, and each time Charles accompanied you. He made sure that no one hurt you, because someone could try to take advantage of you and your kindness. You really tried very hard to help your people, and when you returned, you always took Charles to the pastry shops to thank him for once again keeping you company

Charles looked out for you and could take you to places Ash would never let you go. Charles knew that you had different positions in society and when you were with someone, he always behaved politely to you, but in a more relaxed environment, he became more relaxed and looked after you like an older brother who allowed you to be just a child, even if he knew that if Ash found out about it Charles would have been reprimanded

Charles remained a loyal knight to you no matter what. He protected you and accompanied you, no matter where you needed to go. You were a sweet and innocent princess, and Charles was your knight who was ready to protect you even when you became queen, taking your grandmother's place

🕷 Alois Trancy x kid fem!Reader 🌹

Alois has seen a lot of bad things in his life. People were cruel to him, and when he even had the illusion of power, he began to use it. When he met you, he was sure that you, who had a golden spoon in your hand since birth, would be the same as the others. You were the queen's granddaughter, and he wouldn't be surprised if you were arrogant even though you were only five years old. But he was genuinely perplexed when you turned out to be completely different from what he thought

You were kind and caring towards ordinary people, and for some reason you were kind to him too. Alois could act like a moody child with you, but you were still kind to him. You offered him to participate in charity events that you organized to help people, but he refused. But he liked the fact that you took care of him too

He saw perfectly well that despite the fact that you were friendly towards him, Ash, your grandmother's butler, who accompanied you, was clearly against you communicating. It was as if he knew the whole truth about his past, but he was trying to find a way to convince you that Alois was not worthy to communicate with you. It made him angry, but the fact that you were talking to him anyway calmed him down

More and more often it seemed to him that he was beginning to believe in goodness. You gave him a piece of your light, healed him with your kindness, and although Alois would never admit it, he even liked it. It wasn't often that he met people who would be so genuinely friendly to him, and he didn't want to lose you

👿 Claude Faustus x kid fem!Reader 👓

From the first look at you, Claude realized that you had an innocent, pure soul, one of the brightest souls he had ever seen. You came to visit Alois, but you always paid attention to the servants, which only allowed Claude to be more convinced of his rightness. He just couldn't afford to miss a soul like yours, but it would seem that absolutely everything was against his purpose

Every time you came to Alois, your escort, Ash, came with you, who tried his best to shorten your time there, and when Claude appeared in his field of vision, Ash tried his best to protect you from him. It was as if he knew who Claude really was and protected your soul from his attempts to get close. It made Claude angry, but he couldn't openly speak out against Ash

Despite the fact that Ash tried to prevent you from communicating with Claude, you still communicated with him. You didn't care that he was a butler and you were a princess. You didn't divide people into servants and aristocrats, striving to help everyone, which is what Claude used. But another advantage for him was that under your influence, his master's soul became brighter, gradually changing

Claude intended to try to get your soul while he had the chance. Perhaps if you were older, it would be easier to do this, but your soul will no longer be the same as it is now. That's why he wasn't going to postpone his goal for later, even if Ash was going to interfere with him further

🪽 Ash Landers x kid fem!Reader 🗡

From the very first day of your acquaintance, Ash realized that he was obliged to protect you. You were the brightest and most innocent soul he had ever met, and that you were worthy of salvation. The fact that the Queen entrusted him with taking care of you only simplified his mission. You were the queen's favorite granddaughter and the next in line to the throne, but you were still a child, so he just had to make sure that nothing would blacken your innocent soul

You often traveled to poor areas of London and to small villages where you helped people with food and money. He was pleased that you did it, but he always made sure that none of the sinners hurt you. However, there was something that he absolutely did not like. He didn't like the fact that you often visited Ciel Phantomhive and Alois Trancy. Ash was sure that their company was a bad influence on you and that you should not see them, because your soul could suffer because of this

Angel tried many times to convince you that two counts were not the best company for you, but you were determined. He understood that in your eyes they did not pose a threat, so he took it upon himself to protect you, especially from demons, for whom your soul was like a tasty morsel. Ash just couldn't let the demons get you

Every day it seemed to you that Ash was taking care of you more and more. You didn't pay attention to it, being sure that it was your grandmother's request. You didn't even realize that he wanted to protect you from everything that could blacken your soul. You were a princess who was worthy of ruling New England, and he intended to make sure that was the case

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase two:

<last chapter>

�� chapter warnings: shitty ex boyfriend, mentions of cheating.

➴ word count: 2.5k

💌 from me to you: i just realised i was supposed to post this yesterday im sorry u guys i’m just dumb af. also, did you know it’s almost impossible finding a country music singer who isn’t an awful person or racist? i know zach bryan isn’t exactly a ray of sunshine but it fits the story so i apologise :( i hope u like it either way! ♡

𖧷

NICO OPENED the door for you after the second knock, which was a blessing— it usually took him more than ten knocks to actually hear that someone was on the other side of the door.

“Hey, there, fake girlfriend,” he kisses your cheeks three times, like he used to do in Switzerland, and you smile at the feathery touch on your skin. “Come in, I made soup.”

“I already ate, but thank you.” You place your purse on his couch, sitting down almost immediately. It had been a long day at work. Jeffrey, the section editor, was being a pain in your ass and spent the entire day trying to convince you to go out with him, claiming that he would take you somewhere to participate in a hot dog eating competition.

The issue here wasn’t the hot dog competition but the company. He was annoying and whenever he spoke, the spit coming from his mouth made you feel like you were in the middle of a rainstorm.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks, sitting by your side after grabbing a bowl of what must be soup for himself. “You look…”

You smile tiredly. “Tired, I know. I’m fine, it’s just work.”

“We can reschedule our meeting for another day, I don’t mind. You can also nap in my bed.” He offers, and you almost melt with how sweet he sounds.

“This is not a meeting and I’m fine, I swear,” you cross your legs, cracking your knuckles mindlessly. “So… we have the Zach Bryan concert coming up.”

Nico sighs, like what you just said was the worst thing in the entire world and you chuckle, finding his reaction cute.

“Do we really have to go?” he pouts and you want to coo.

“Usually, I’d tell you no and move on. You know I’m not a country music girl either but… I was thinking,” you run your fingers through your hair, braiding it while you speak. “It would be a great thing for us. There will be a lot of people there and, I mean… one of them has to know you. And one of them has to post something about us online.”

“And you think Nora will see it?” he asks, eyes full of hope, making your heart ache for a second. You wanted Nico to be happy so fucking bad, that the thought of Nora hurting him made you see red.

“I think… I think there’s a high chance of that happening, yeah,” you whisper, hoping that you were at least fifty percent right. “We’ll just be… y’know. A couple. Jack and the other guys are going to be there so we’d have to fake it anyway.”

“Mhm, you’re right,” he swallows a spoonful of carrot soup, licking his lips afterwards. “We’re fine, then. Instagram posting and all?”

You nod. “I’ll do the posting today. Maybe a picture of you with the guys, so it’s not too obvious.”

“Alright, cap,” he mockingly salutes you, and you laugh, throwing a pillow on his hips. “I’ll do my best.”

𖧷

THE ARENA where the concert was going to happen was full of people, and you caught yourself holding Nico’s hand tighter.

“Everything okay, baby?” Nico shouts over the music, and even though you’re surprised at how used he sounds whenever he calls you that, you nod at him, shaking your head up and down. “If you want to leave we can—”

“The hell you can!” Jack emerges from behind you both, shaking his head. “You promised me months ago that you’d come with me.”

You smile at him. “We did, yeah. Don’t worry, we’re not leaving.”

This time, Nico’s the one squeezing your hand and you give him an angry, yet playful look, while he looks absolutely adorable.

Jack convinced you and Nico to buy these tickets months ago, and when you bought them, you didn’t give it much thought— you knew you’d end up creating some random excuse and not going to the concert anyway.

Little did you know that when the concert day came, you’d be fake dating your long-time friend and trying to fool not only his friends, family and fans, but also Nora, a girl you despised.

Life is too confusing for you sometimes.

Fortunately, Jack also forced you all to pay for the VIP ticket, which meant that you didn’t have to be in the pit with people squeezing you and risking getting hurt, or something like that.

The VIP area was, in fact, just a huge room with a balcony view and snacks, all you can drink beer and some other fancy people who were just sitting there and taking pictures of themselves with their big, cowboy hats. Couples, friends, family— it looked like everyone and their mothers decided that it would be great to watch a man sing about love and broken hearts.

You were people watching— something you liked to do whenever you were in a place with too many people— when you felt one large yet gentle hand on your bare waist, making you jump slightly with how cold it was.

“Sorry,” Nico whispers in your ear, and the tiny yet present accent in his voice makes you smile. “You good?”

You had every intention to reply right away, but when you realized Nico had trapped your body between the balcony glass and his body, you froze. You knew you had to get used to being physically close to him, hell, you’d been the one who told him to keep touching you whenever you were in public so why were you feeling like this?

Sure, Nico’s attractive, always has been. But he’s also your friend. And in love with someone else.

You nod your head, grabbing the beer he bought for you and taking a long sip. Thankfully, the singer, Zach, decides that that was a good time to start singing so the lights are almost immediately off and the shouting covers your awkwardness.

Even though you’re not a fan, you have to admit that his songs are good. Swinging your body side to side to the country beat, you enjoy the show in Nico’s arms, laughing as you watch Jack dancing while holding Bastian’s hands and pretending to cry over Zach’s songs.

“D’you think we should do that?” Nico shouts over the music and you smile at him, confused.

“Do what?” you ask, also trying to make yourself heard over thousands of people singing and loud music.

“Dance,” he explains. “I’m the worst dancer ever but all of the couples are doing it.”

You look around for the first time since the concert started and you confirm that Nico’s right. The few couples in the room were animatedly dancing with each other, laughing and kissing like people in love are constantly doing.

You take a deep breath and finish your beer in one go, leaving your now empty cup on the table next to you. You turn your body around, laughing when Nico offers you his hand like a gentleman would, and you grab it, twirling afterwards.

We're havin' an all-night revival

Someone call the women and someone steal the Bible

For the sake of my survival

Baptize me in a bottle of Beam, put Johnny on the vinyl

Nico told the truth when he said he didn’t know how to dance, but his enthusiasm for sure made up for it. You both laughed hard as you danced around each other, laughing even harder when Jack tried to join the two of you just to have Bastian pulling him back like he was a ragdoll.

Well, the Devil can scrap, but the Lord has won

And I'll talk to him on the rising sun

His son rose and mine did too

I was coming down, but now I'm talking to you

“He ‘talking about you!” You shout over the song, and he leans closer to you, holding you in place while his stubble scratches your temple.

“What?” he grins.

“‘The Devil’. He’s talking about you,” you joke, praying he’ll understand the pun.

“Oh, sure, baby, he ‘talking about me.”

Suddenly, he pulls you a little bit too hard and you stumble, putting your hands on his chest, looking for some kind of support while he keeps your feet on the ground with his hands on your waist.

You’re breathing hard, all the dancing exercises are finally catching up on you. You’re staring at his coffee-colored eyes, feeling his chest go up and down underneath your hands, his breathing hitting your forehead with how close you both were.

You’re so… close. And even though your heart is beating frantically inside your chest, you cannot help but feel some sort of rightness in the place you’re at right now. And it’s so wrong.

So, so wrong. So terribly wrong and hideous yet—

The clapping and shouts bring you back to where you’re supposed to be, reminding you of how you’re supposed to act, of what you’re supposed to be doing. And that definitely isn’t having your hands all over Nico’s chest and standing inches away from his mouth.

“Em—”

“I’m thirsty,” you interrupt him, wiping a non-exist drop of sweat from your forehead. “I’m gonna go grab a drink, okay?”

“I can go.” He starts moving, but you’re faster. Placing a light kiss on his cheek you tell him you’ll be right back and start walking towards the bar.

Thankfully, it was almost empty since the majority of the people in the room were enjoying the concert in the area closer to the stage, so when you ask for another beer you get it shortly after paying. You decide to sit on one of the stools before going back to where Nico and the rest of the boys were.

The cold, bitter drink sits perfectly on your tongue before you swallow, and you hum to one of the few songs you knew, taking the opportunity to organize your thoughts inside your head.

You didn’t know what the things you were feeling for Nico Hischier meant.

Well. Actually, you did.

But it couldn’t be it, right? He’s your friend. Also, he’s in love with another woman. Also, he’s Nina’s, your friend’s brother. Isn’t it against the friend's law to hook up with their family? Or anyone related to them in any way?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite ex.”

You mutter a quiet ‘fuck’ before turning your head around, sighing because of course that, at a twenty thousand people, sold-out concert, you’d end up in the same room as your shitty ex from two years ago.

“Hi, Carl.” You don’t even try to sound nice, because in reality, you don’t want to.

“Hi, Emma. Didn’t expect to see you here,” he leans on the counter, his brown hair falling over his face, long and ugly. “Are you here by yourself?”

“Why is that any of your business?” You roll your eyes at him, getting off the stool and resuming your walk back. Sure, that’s what you would’ve done if Carl hadn’t grabbed your wrist, forcing you to stay in place. “What—”

“Come on, Emma, don’t play difficult,” he smiles widely and it makes you sick. “Look, I know it’s been a couple of years but… I miss you. I miss us.”

You scoff. “You should’ve thought about that before you screwed my fucking boss.”

“Oh, you’re still hurt about that,” he says like you’re someone who keeps talking about the same things over and over again and he’s the friend that has to keep listening to you. “I get it, it was wrong of me. But at least you have a better job now, right? Heard you’re working for the NHL now.”

You don’t try to hide your disgust.

“Where the hell did you ‘hear that’?” you try to remove your arm from his grip, unsuccessful. “Carl, let go of me.”

“Not until you hear me out—”

“Hear you out? You cheated on me—”

“—and understand that I was grieving my grandma’s death—”

“Your grandmother died when you were twelve!” you yell, pulling your wrist. “Carl, let go of my arm—”

“Is everything okay here?” Nico’s voice makes you turn your head around fast, watching as he frowns as he looks to where you and Carl were connected. “Baby?”

“Oh, so he’s why?” Carl hisses, forcing you to look back at him. “You’re his bitch now? That’s why you don’t want me back?”

“Carl—”

“Excuse me?” Nico steps closer to you, putting his hand on top of Carl’s and pulling it away from your arm in seconds, so effortlessly you have to keep the gasp that wants to leave your mouth safe inside. “Get your hands off my girlfriend right fucking now, who the fuck do you think you are?”

“I’m her ex-boyfriend—”

“Then I’ll ask again: who the fuck do you think you are?” Nico gently grabs your hand and moves your body until you stand behind him, his large body blocking almost entirely Carl’s frame. “Don’t fucking piss me off and leave right now.”

“Not until I talk to Emma.”

“Do not fucking say her name, you lost the right to do so. So, how is it going to be? You leave willingly or I punch you in the face?”

“Nico, no—” you whisper, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Man, you know what? I’m gonna leave. She’s gonna come back crawling to me, and you’ll have to get your dick wet somewhere else.”

You only have time to place your cup on the counter before grabbing Nico’s hand and keeping him away from punching Carl’s face.

“He’s not worth it, baby,” the pet name left your mouth so naturally you don’t even notice it, but Nico definitely does. “Let’s go back, he’s just another asshole.”

Nico turns away and runs his eyes all over you, looking for something. Whatever he is, he doesn’t find it, so he just nods and mutters:

“Du arschloch.”

It makes you laugh, finally feeling all the tension leaving your body. “Yeah. That too.”

𖧷

“ARE YOU sure you’re okay?” Nico asks for the nth time, and you stop walking to look him in the eye.

“I already told you I’m fine. And all thanks to you.”

“I didn’t mean to make a scene,” he pouts, and you smile, cooing at him, wondering how good those lips must feel when—

No.

“You didn’t cause a scene, captain,” you playfully punch his shoulder. “And even if you did, it’s good, okay? Imagine the posts on Twitter: Nico Hischier, the captain of the New Jersey Devils, protects his little, defenseless girlfriend, Emma Roberts.”

“You’re not defenseless.” He laughs.

And I’m also not your girlfriend.

You laugh too.

“It was a fun night,” you sigh, walking towards your apartment door again. He walks by your side, and you hate the way it makes you feel safe. “Not doing it again though.”

“Yeah, me neither. One country music concert is enough for a lifetime.”

“Agreed.”

𖧷

emmaroberts

liked by jackhughes, jesperbratt, _connorbedard and 2,936 others

emmaroberts got to be a cowgirl for one night with these fellas right here

View all 130 comments

elladavis you’re so pretty!! miss the boys!

emmaroberts elladavis luke wasn’t with us tho

elladavis emmaroberts emma.

brooksnatalie you look so cute with your little hat baby :(

emmaroberts brooksnatalie can u move to new jersey already like i promise u it’s better than vancouver

_quinnhughes emmaroberts No. it’s not.

emmaroberts _quinnhughes shut up what are you? the mayor of vancouver city?

user2 YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY

nicohischier hat looks good on you

emmaroberts nicohischier thanks cap 🩷

jackhughes glad to say i was the best dancer in the arena

emmaroberts jackhughes grandma its okay go back to bed

user5 emma congrats you just caused world war 3 with this post on twt

user6 user5 I DONT HAVE TWITTER WHATS GOING ON

user5 user6 people are going crazy over some photo of emma and nico together at the concert like they’re hugging and shit and now they’ve been analyzing every interaction they’ve ever had to prove they’re together

user8 ARE YOU AND NICO A THING

𖧷

<next chapter>

[hallietblr]

Omg! I love your writing! You write Conrad so perfectly. Can I please request one with Conrad Fisher where the reader and Conrad are best friends but everyone knows that they love each other because they’re always touchy and affectionate with each other. They even have cute nicknames for each other and everyone else just wants them to get together already. Your blog is amazing ❤️✨

orange bikini, the marina, and ray bands | c.fisher x reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request love! i had a lot of fun writing it, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: fluff

—

summers were always unforgettable. maybe because you got to spend every moment of it with your best friends. as a local in cousins, you watched different families come and go every summer — only a few of them being regular summer visitors. for example, the fisher and conklin families.

susannah fisher was such a bright light to the lives of the locals, bringing charity events to cousins every summer along with invested a lot of money into the country club. as for her sons, they were just like her. both conrad and jeremiah were bundles of sunshine, like a warm hug, or maybe a refreshing glass of lemonade on a hot summers day.

i had immediately bonded with conrad when i first met him when i was eight and he was ten. we met at the beach and instantly clicked. i soon was introduced to his younger brother, jeremiah, and two family friends, belly and steven. although i spent just as much time with the rest of them as i did with conrad, somehow him and i were always the closest.

despite the small age gap between us, we were like two peas in a pod.

i always looked forward to june since it indicated the start of summer, when my best friends return back to their summer home. i do have close friends here at cousins who are also locals, but the conklin and fisher siblings bring a new sort of fun to my life.

now that i’m sixteen, i stand at the marina dock, working alongside my friend cam. we both got internships with the marine biology department for the summer. i was laughing as cameron shook his brunette curls dry from water from the dive we just came back from. the droplets of water landing on me and my orange bikini.

“cameron!” i squeal, pushing him away, “i swear to god i’ll throw you off this deck if you continue to shower me”

he laughs as he steals my beach towel to dry himself, “you know you love it.”

i roll my eyes before they land on a very familiar red jeep wrangler that parks by the dock. i lift my ray bands off the bridge of my nose and place them on top of my head, i squint harder to see if it was who i thought it was. as the driver door opens, my favourite 6’2 dirty blonde boy steps out — conrad fisher.

he sees me staring at him while standing in just my bikini before a large smile paints across his face. i don’t even notice jeremiah stepping out from the passenger seat as i start running sprinting towards conrad.

he meets me halfway, where the dock began. “oh my god!” i exclaim as i jump into his muscular football player arms. my arms wrap around his neck and legs around his waist as i hug him tightly. he smells like sea salt, coconut sunscreen, and a hint of weed.

conrad has his arms holding my torso as he spins us in circles, “hey beautiful, did you miss me?”

“more than anything” i tell him, lifting my head from the crook of his neck, “you know, nine months is too long to be away from you”

“you say that every year, sunshine” he chuckles, carefully placing me back onto my birkenstock covered feet. his green eyes flicker from my sunkissed face to my chest for a split second.

i feel myself blush at it. he’s grown up a lot since i last saw him in august. his shoulders are broader, his biceps are larger, and his hair is longer. i smile sweetly at him, “because it never changes.”

“alright that’s enough from you two lovebirds. you look great in orange, y/n!” jeremiah compliments me as he pulls me into a squeeze hug, “how are you?”

i hug him tightly, “i’m doing great! cameron and i have been busy since school ended with this marine biology internship — but we get to be by the ocean all day so i’m not complaining!”

jeremiah grind his infamous smile, “sounds like fun! you know, steven and i are working at the country club this summer. time to make some bank!”

i giggle before pulling the brothers into a group hug, “ugh, i’m so happy you guys are finally back! when are belly and steven coming?”

“tomorrow afternoon,” conrad says as we all pull apart. i motion them to follow me down to the dock,

“i want you guys to meet one of my best friends,” i explain as cameron looks up at us and offers a smile, “this is cam, well, cameron. he just moved here last september and we’ve been hanging out since. you know, he’s just as interested in marine biology as i am!”

little did i know, cameron having his arm hanging around my neck ignited a small spark in conrad’s stomach at the sight. conrad gives a weak smile, meanwhile jeremiah daps cam up,

“what’s good, cam cameron! i’m jeremiah” he laughs, “you know, you’re making my brother conrad jealous right now. you have your hands on his future wife”

cam’s eyes go huge, “oh shit! are you two dating? y/n, you never told me you have a boyfriend! that’s my bad, bro.” he quickly apologizes and removes his arm from my shoulders.

“fuck off, jere” conrad says to his younger brother.

i smack jeremiah’s shoulder playfully, “i do not have a boyfriend, i don’t know why jere is making up bull”

“you mind as well be married at this point, considering the amount of hours you two spend texting each other.” jeremiah shrugs as he picks up my colourful printed backpack, “let’s head back to our place, cam you can come too”

cam thanks jeremiah but turns down the offer due to being needed back at his home. the two exchange instagrams so they can make plans later in the summer. with that, cameron runs off to his bike and waves us all goodbye.

conrad and my eyes meet and i can’t help but feel my heart rate pick up at the eye contact. i know i’ve always thought conrad was cute and was more drawn to him, but this felt a lot more different compared to the previous summers together.

i called shotgun as we all raced back to the wrangler, jeremiah pouting as he sits in the back seats. i plug my phone in for aux and start playing my new summer playlist that i just started making.

what once was by hers starts playing loudly from the car stereo as the windows are down and rooftop of the jeep was removed. the sweet summer breeze flowing through the car and our hairs as we all sing our hearts out. conrad has a hand on my knee, massaging it with his thumb while he drives. i try to surprise the butterflies and the heat rising to my cheeks at his actions.

as he parks the car at the familiar white summer home, we all jump out as conrad exclaims to race to the kitchen. he claims that whoever is last is getting thrown into the pool first.

the two fisher boys had an unfair advantage because of their longer legs, thus being able to take longer strides. we make it into the kitchen where susannah stands, smiling her golden smile,

“y/n! sweetheart, look at you!” she coos, pulling me into a warm embrace. she smells like roses and fresh laundry as i hold her tightly, she whispers into my ear, “so when are you and connie making it official? i know how you two feel about each other and he speaks of you so often at home.”

i flush at her comment but smile on response, “it’s so good to see you, susannah.”

she caresses my cheek, “i swear, you get more and more gorgeous every time i see you. plus, that orange bikini top looks absolutely fabulous on you.”

“i look just the same as last summer,” i laugh, “and the summers before that.”

she rolls her eyes playfully, “oh sweetie, don’t brush off my compliments. i mean it, you are glowing! don’t you think, connie?” she asks, looking over at her older son who already has a slight blush across his cheeks.

he smiles, “yeah, yeah you do.”

jeremiah grabs my wrist and pulls me away from his mom, “stop trying to avoid you fate, y/n! time to get thrown into the pool!” he grins, tugging me towards the sliding glass doors.

i squeal as the two both have grips on my arms as i try my best to free myself, “oh, come on! at least let me take off my shorts and ray bands!”

they surprisingly allow me to do so, before conrad grabs my wrists and jeremiah grabs my ankles.

“1…” they count together, starting to swing me back and forth by the edge of the pool.

“2…” i squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself for the cold pool water.

“3!”

i scream as i’m thrown into the air before splashing into the chlorine water. i swim to the surface of the water with a cheeky idea in mind, i grab a hold of my left ankle and distort my facial feature in discomfort,

“shit!” i cry out, taking a breath from being under water for a moment too long.

conrad immediately straightens up at the sight, “baby, what happened? are you okay?” he panics.

“y/n, are you good?” jeremiah asks, the two having obvious concern laced in their facial expressions.

i shake my head and fake a sob, “i think i sprained my ankle at the bottom of the pool.”

in seconds, conrad removes his burgundy tee shirt in one swift movement before diving into the water. his strong arms lifting me and bringing my legs to wrap around his waist, “fuck, i’m so sorry, pretty girl.” he breathes out, planting two kisses on my forehead, “let me see it.”

he swims us over to the edge of the pool where jeremiah once stood before he left to grab towels and an ice pack. conrad lifts me up effortlessly onto the pool side, beginning to inspect my left ankle,

“wait,” he pauses, noticing no swelling nor bruising.

i couldn’t hold in for much longer before i broke into laughter, “i’m sorry! you should’ve seen the look on your pretty face!”

his worry drops before splashing me with water, “you’re so lucky that i love you.”

i stop laughing and wipe my face dry from water before looking at him, “w- what?”

conrad’s eyes widen at the accidentally confession, “i mean… as a friend of course!”

my heart feels a slight tug at the correction but i smile weakly. why would he love me in the way that i feel towards him? i awkwardly laugh before kicking water back at him, and jumping back into the pool.

“ok good, i got worried for a second” i lie, swimming towards him. his hands subconsciously hold onto the curves of my hips, his green eyes looking deep into mine.

i known him for what feels like forever and i can read him like an open book, well typically. but right now, his expression is unreadable. i’m distracted by him, his hands on me, the explosion of butterflies in my gut, and my heart beating loudly in my ears.

his hand cups my cheek, both of our eyes fluttering close as he pulls me closer to his face. i can feel the slight minty feeling of his breath on my lips before,

“i got the ice!” jeremiah yells, with a loud slam of the glass door which caused conrad and i to jump away from each other.

we almost kissed.

i cant even look at my best friend right now, embarrassed with the bright pink colour of my cheeks as i swim over to jeremiah, “thanks” i say quietly, pretending to ice my ankle.

i watch conrad get out of the pool and dismiss himself to his room,

“did something happen?” jeremiah asks, completely lost and confused of the situation.

[thiswaytwoinfinity]

color up my skies – bob floyd x fem!reader

Bob Floyd is always beautiful. But there’s something about the way the sunset makes his skin glow and the way that Montana drawl makes your toes curl that means you need to have him … even if you’re on the side of the road.

a/n: finally my entry for IBFFM is complete! This is the first fic I have actually written in months and it feels fitting that it would be for Bob, who stole my heart and introduced me to the TGM fandom. I love it here, y’all. I hope you enjoy my offering.

warnings: smut (18+ only) oral (m receiving), fingering, grinding, unprotected piv (in my mind she’s on bc), praise and breeding kink if you squint, truck sex so kind of public?

tagging @attapullman as a thank you for founding the hottest holiday ever 😉 and a h/t to @withahappyrefrain whose post about bob babbling when he gets close rewired something in my brain

Bob Floyd was always beautiful.

You could list a million instances when you felt stunned by him — when he was bobbing his head along to the music at the Hard Deck, observing his fellow Daggers; rumpled and bleary-eyed in the morning, waiting for his ancient coffee maker to hurry up; standing on your front porch and staring at you in awe, despite the fact that you’ve been together for over a year; flushed and panting with fogged up glasses as he lifts his head up from between your thighs — and still think of more.

But right now, with the pink and orange rays of the fading sunlight illuminating his beautiful cheekbones, the wind ruffling the longer bits of hair that peek out from his beat-up ball cap and those beautiful dimples peeking out, Bob Floyd is downright breathtaking.

“Penny for your thoughts?” the WSO asks, taking a sip from the bottle of soda in his hand. He grins softly as he looks over at you, reclined back on your elbows in the bed of his beloved truck. “You’ve been quiet for a while over there.”

You bite your lip, face heating up a bit as you confess, “You’re just so gorgeous, Bobby.” The tips of his ears turn pink at the praise and he takes his cap off and runs his fingers through his hair before replacing it.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you, darlin’,” he drawls, his accent stronger than ever thanks to the week you two have spent back in his home town.

You had been a little nervous when Bob asked you to come with him on a trip back to Montana after the birth of his nephew. Meeting each others’ parents during their brief trips to San Diego was one thing, but spending two and a half weeks in his childhood home? There were so many ways that could test your relationship.

But eight days into your trip, you were getting to know a whole different side of your beautiful Bob.

“I mean it. Montana looks good on you,” you tell him, reaching out to caress his face with your hand. “I like this whole ‘country boy’ vibe you have going on.”

Bob chuckles, warm and deep, as he gently turns his cheek into your palm. Your thumb gently rubs over one of his dimples, a sign that he’s relaxed and happy. “If I had known that taking you to watch the sunset in my truck would earn me all of these compliments, I woulda done it a lot sooner,” he murmurs.

“Guess you should’ve. Maybe you could have wooed me properly.”

You’re teasing of course; Bob is a complete romantic, surprising you with flowers and picnics on the beach and candlelit dinners at home. “Was this how you impressed all the girls in high school? You’d take them for a ride in your truck?”

He wraps his fingers around your wrist and kisses your knuckles before gently entwining your hands together and lowering them to his lap.

“I think you’re overestimating how many girls were interested in me back then,” Bob laughs. You roll your eyes — you’ve seen pictures of your boyfriend in high school, all gangly limbs and round glasses, and you can imagine falling for him back then too. “‘Sides, they all grew up here too. These big fields aren’t all that impressive when you see them every day.”

He leans over and presses one, two kisses to your neck, right above your collar bone. A shiver runs through your body that has nothing to do with the early evening breeze.

“That’s why I saved it for my favorite city girl,” Bob adds, his lips still pressed against your skin. You can feel the smirk on his mouth and it makes you feel a little dizzy.

Bob loved to make fun of you for being a “city girl,” joking about how you were lulled to sleep at night by the sound of sirens instead of crickets and laughing at your refusal to learn how to drive until after college. (Okay, but Bobby, you don’t need a license when you have public transport!) He secretly loved it, though. It gave him a thrill to think about how your vastly different lives converged the day you met at Payback’s engagement party.

Bob’s not sure he believes in fate, but he’s endlessly thankful for whatever forces brought you into his life.

You giggle a little as he continues to kiss and nuzzle his face against your quickly warming skin, hand ghosting up his arm to wrap around Bob’s shoulders and pull him impossibly closer. “Bobby …” you breathe, feeling his teeth gently nip at your collarbone. “Bobby, behave. We’re out in the open.”

Your handsome Navy man just smiles and proceeds to work on sucking a bruise into your neck that will make it very obvious what the two of you got up to when you return to his parents’ house.

“Bob —“ you start again, giving the hair at the nape of his neck a quick tug to try and catch his attention, but all you get in response is a deep groan pressed into your skin. With a smirk of your own, you slide your free hand onto one of Bob’s denim-clad thighs, before giving his hair another, sharper tug. The WSO freezes in place.

“Now, darlin’ …” he drawls, his voice low and rumbly in a way that shoots directly into your core. Bob lifts his head up slowly, his eyes hooded and his beautiful pink mouth shiny and puffy from exertion. “If you want me to start behavin’, you’re gonna need to stop pulling on my hair like that.”

“How come?”

Bob’s big hands come up to cup your jaw, tilting your head so that your eyes are locked on his. Your chest is heaving as you watch your boyfriend’s eyes darken, that beautiful sky blue turning to a seductive sapphire as his pupils dilate.

“Because if you keep goin’, I’m gonna have no choice but to take you right here,” Bob explains. “And I don’t know if I’ll be able to take my time with you out here. Make you fall apart the way I like …”

You let out an involuntary whimper at his words, your eyes fluttering closed as a rush of heat floods through you.

“Or is that something you want, huh?” Bob teases, his lips hovering over yours as he pulls you closer.

“Please, Bobby …” Your voice is breathy, more air than sound as you press your mouth against his. Bob’s thumbs gently caress your cheeks as he kisses you, his tongue sliding against yours as you let out a soft groan. No matter how long it’s been, Bob always kisses you like he’s just gotten back from a months-long deployment and it makes your head swim with delight.

(It also happens to have been a few days since you’ve had the chance to properly make out, which does nothing to calm the desire pulsing in your veins.)

“Missed you,” you sigh in between kisses and you feel more than hear Bob’s chuckle.

“C’mere baby,” he mutters, sliding one hand under one of your thighs and tugging, manhandling you to straddle his lap with ease.

You let out a little squeak before settling down, pressing your crotch down to feel where he’s already growing hard in his worn-out jeans. Bob curses lowly and wraps those delicious arms around your waist to pull you closer, his hips pushing up into yours unconsciously as his mouth trails from yours to your neck, down, down until he’s peppering kisses across your chest and the top of your cleavage. You can feel the edges of his signature BCGs dig into your soft flesh as Bob works his mouth along the neckline of your sundress.

“Did I ever tell you how gorgeous you look in this dress?” Bob asks after running his teeth lightly along your décolletage. “Drives me crazy when you wear it, just wanna pull it up and bend you over, doesn’t matter where we are.”

“Bobby!” you gasp, your nails scratching lightly up and down his biceps. Though he was a perfect gentleman on your first few dates — he even waited for you to kiss him first, blushing deeply when you tugged his face towards yours at the end of your third date — it didn’t take long for Bob to learn how much you liked it when he voiced all of the dirty thoughts running through his head.

It still takes you by surprise sometimes, the way your mild-mannered boyfriend can get you wet with just a few filthy comments.

And fuck are you already wet, rolling your hips against Bob’s as his talented fingers slide the straps of your dress down your shoulders so he can have better access to your chest. “Need you, need you so bad,” you keen, arching your back to push your breasts closer to your boyfriend’s mouth. “Bobby, please.”

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, pulling back from your chest with a luck of reluctance obvious on his beautiful face. “Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he adds, stilling your hips in his lap. You only realize you let out a whine because of the way he’s rubbing his big hands up and down your sides, trying to soothe you. “Just wanna get you somewhere a little more private. I’m the only one who gets to see you like this.”

You nod almost frantically, your bottom lip between your teeth to try and hold back your moans. Letting out a deep breath, you slide off Bob’s lap and hop down out of the truck bed, your thighs squeezing together when you watch the way his biceps flex as he lifts the tailgate back into place after following.

He holds his hand out to you and you grab it, practically running around to the front of the truck and yanking the door open. Bob holds back a moment, waiting for you to climb in, but instead, you turn him by his hips and push him back into the cab so that he’s sprawled across the bench seat.

“‘M I not moving fast enough for you?” he asks with a laugh, planting one leg on the floor of the car and swinging the other up onto the creaky leather as he slides towards the driver’s side.

In response, you simply grin, before climbing in after him and pulling the door closed behind you.

But instead of laying yourself on top of Bob — which he’s clearly expecting you to do, the way his arms are hanging open to make room for you — you crouch down in the footwell and reach for his belt.

“Wait, baby, you don’t have to —“ he starts, before cutting himself off with a jolt when you cup his blue through the front of his pants.

“I want to,” you insist, fingers quickly working to open his belt and his jeans. “Want you. Want you so bad, Bobby. Next time we’re not staying at your parents’ house. I can’t go this long without touching you, it’s all I can think about.”

Bob tosses his head back with a moan, his hips lifting up as he helps you tug his pants and boxers down enough to free his hard cock. It slaps up against the bottom of his stomach, flushed and already wet at the tip, twitching slightly when you reach out to wrap your hand around the base. You wait a beat for him to lock eyes with you before you lean in and wrap your mouth around the tip, swirling your tongue around it to gather up the bit of precome pooling there.

“Oh, darlin’,” Bob practically growls, the deep timbre of his voice making you moan as you start to bob your head up and down. “Such a perfect fuckin’ mouth. You’re so good to me, baby. So g-good.”

You pull off and give him a long lick from base to tip before attempting to swallow down as much as you can at once. It took a while for you to be able to deep throat Bob like this — he’s so much bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before, thick and long and just slightly curved in a way that makes you feel so deliciously full — but Bob was patient and understanding and now you like to show off for him whenever you can.

You pull off to catch your breath, a thin line of spit connecting your mouth to him, before leaning back in working your mouth down to his base, his public hair tickling your nose. You swallow around him and the feeling of your throat closing around his cock makes Bob jump and swear, a fist coming up to hit the roof. The quick buck of his hips makes you cough and sputter and he lifts your head off of him for a second to check in.

“Sorry, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting that, felt so damn good I lost my mind for a second,” he rambles, chuckling softly, his thumb rubbing at the corner of your smiling mouth. “You okay there?”

Instead of replying, you just giggle and nod, nipping at the tip of Bob’s thumb before you get back to what you were doing, sucking and licking at his cock while stroking whatever wasn’t in your mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bob’s stomach flex as he pants and moans above you, words of praise falling from his lips in a dazed ramble.

“So beautiful, you’re so beautiful like this, my gorgeous girl.” A loud moan interrupts his declarations, those big hands sweeping up to hold your hair back out of your face in a makeshift ponytail as you swallow him down again. “Yeahhhhh, just like that baby, good girl. God, you’re so good to me, love it when I can feel myself all the way in your throat, shit.”

You pull off to breathe before swallowing him down again, fingers cupping and caressing his balls as you hold him there, tip brushing against the back of your throat, enjoying the way Bob’s thighs shake and his hands tighten in your hair.

You repeat the action a few more times, tears staring to run down your cheeks before he suddenly tugs your head up and away from his cock.

“Don’t wan’ come down your throat, darlin’, need to come inside you,” he rambles, petting the sides of you head absently, his eyes fixed on your chest as the straps of your dress slide further down and reveal the soft satin of your bra underneath. “Please, baby, please let me fuck you, gonna fuck you so full ...”

The edge of desperation in Bob’s voice makes you surge up from the floor, climbing into his lap as you kiss him, all tongue and teeth and desire.

“Yes, Bobby, yeah,” you say against his mouth, tugging at his white tee shirt until he pulls it up and over his head. The sight of his broad, defined chest makes you rub yourself against him, sticky wet panties brushing against the hot ridge of his hard cock.

As you roll your hips again and again, the lace catches against your clit, making you moan loudly as Bob lifts his hips into yours.

“You’re so wet, darlin,’ I can feel it, I can feel how you soaked right through your panties,” he says, eyes closing briefly at the sensation, before they fly open and he finishes tugging the bodice of your dress down to your waist. He gives your breasts a quick squeeze, letting out a soft grunt before teasing and pinching at your nipples through the thin fabric. “Such a sweet girl, my good girl, and you get so fuckin’ wet just from sucking my cock.”

“Bobby, please, fuck me,” you moan, hips working more frantically against his, chasing your high as he whispers naughty encouragement to you.

“I will, baby, I will,” he promises, voice soothing despite his movements bringing your closer and closer to the edge. He sits up properly in the seat, grabbing you by the hips and moving your body against his. “Wanna see you come like this first, watch you fall apart in my lap, love it when you get desperate like this.”

Bob drops one hand to your lap, working it up the skirt of your dress to meet your soaked panties.

With a low curse, he slides his hand into them, pressing his thumb against your clit and rubbing in steady circles while you throw your head back and moan at the feeling of his hands on you.

“Fuck, Bob, right t-there, I’m so close baby,” you babble, hips continuing to swivel as you grind against his hand, his cock, edging further and further to your peak, nails scraping down Bob’s torso. His murmured little “c’mon, come for me,” helps push you over with a shout, your body shaking and trembling in his arms as he works you through your orgasm.

“Juuuust like that, so gorgeous baby, so good for me,” Bob says, his thumb slowing down against your clit as you come down from your high. When your eyes flutter open and you take him in, cheeks flushed and glasses slightly fogged from all of the exertion. He barely gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls your panties to the side and begins sliding his cock into you.

You give a shout that turns into a high-pitched whine as you feel the head of him press inside you. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby,” you babble, walls still fluttering a little as you go to slide all the way down his cock, needing him inside you as quickly as possible.

“Uh-uh, darlin’, slow,” he chastises, grabbing your hips to still you about halfway down his cock. “Don’t wanna hurt you, just take your time, you’re doing so well for me.”

It feels like time slows down as the two of you work to get every inch of him inside, tiny little movements of your hips helping you to take more and more until your hips meet.

You take a moment to reach behind you and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side before snatching Bob’s hat and doing the same. He doesn’t even seem to register your decision to rid him of his hat, already fixated on your bare chest, moving to suck one of your peaked nipples into his mouth with a moan.

“Love these tits, baby,” he mutters against you and you card your fingers through his hair in response. It’s a little sweaty from hiding under his hat in the heat all day, but you can’t get enough of the way Bob groans and whines as you tug at the longer strands and scratch your nails against his scalp. “Gotta move, darlin’, gotta fuck you now.”

“Yes, yes,” you say, lifting your hips until just his the tip of his cock is still inside you and sliding back down.

“Shit, baby, jus’ like that,” he encourages, words already beginning to slur together as he gets drunk on pleasure. You repeat the motion and he smirks, before tugging one nipple between his teeth to make you keen. “You wanna show me you know how to ride? Huh? C’mon city girl, ride me.”

Bob’s voice gets a little breathy towards the end of his taunt and your moans get louder as you feel him press against that spongey spot within you on each downstroke.

For a while, the only thing you can hear is the sound of skin slapping together, punctuated by groans and growls and the occasional whine when Bob pinches or tugs at your nipples with his teeth, the tiny spark of pain making the pleasure more delicious. He’s so tuned into you that he can sense that you’re getting tired almost before you do, wrapping his arms around you and adjusting so that both of his feet are planted against the floor of his truck and he begins thrusting up into you, giving your burning thighs a break.

His hips move quickly, punching little “unhs” out of you with each thrust, tip bullying your g-spot relentlessly. Your walls begin to tighten and flutter against him and Bob frees a hand to rub two fingers against your clit in a slow, steady motion that contrasts beautifully with the speed of his thrusts.

“Oh my g— fuck, Bob, feels so good. You feel so g-good, love you so much.” You’re not even aware of what you’re saying, words spilling out of your mouth mindlessly as you let Bob bring you closer and closer to your orgasm. “Need to come, Bobby, I’m so close, wanna come for you, please, please,” you beg, peppering kisses all over his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, anywhere your lips can reach.

Bob’s fingers speed up, his mouth dropping open to let out a low groan, his face flushed and eyes glassy.

“Yes, good girl, just like that,” he encourages, the bottom of his glasses starting to fog up as a result of his exertion. You moan loudly at the sight, tossing your head back and losing yourself in the feeling of Bob’s talented fingers, his cock, the tension inside you building, building. “Come for me, beautiful, please. Let go for me, so perfect, so good to me, can’t believe you’re mine – shit.”

Your boyfriend’s praise tips you over the edge and you feel that band inside you snap, your vision whiting out at the edges as your walls clamp down on Bob’s cock. You’re shaking and moaning in his arms, gushing around him as he murmurs and works you through it. “Love you, love you, yes, yes, love you baby,” pressed into your clammy skin as Bob can’t bring himself to lift his mouth up from your chest, shoulders, neck long enough to speak clearly.

You come down from your high with one last shudder, walls fluttering around him and making him moan against you. You lean back to take a look at his face - pink and sweaty, a smile on his puffy lips and looking more beautiful than you think you’ve ever seen him before - before cupping it between your hands and kissing him.

You’re not sure how long the two of you just sit there and kiss, could be seconds, could be minutes, but you’re too lost in each other to care.

Eventually, though, your hips start rolling again in his lap, causing Bob to let out little whimpers and moans against your mouth. He lets his teeth tug at your bottom lip before pulling back and pressing his forehead against yours. “God, you feel so good, honey,” he says, eyes locked on yours as you begin to ride him properly once again.

“Wanna make you feel good, Bobby,” you coo, one hand threading through his damp hair and the other caressing his jaw.

“You a-always do, so good to me, so good baby,” he rambles, breath hitching every time you squeeze around him. “Don’t know how I g-got so l-lucky, can’t believe you’re mine, dar-darlin’.”

Bob’s hips begin thrusting up jerkily to meet yours, his eyes starting to get glassy behind those big frames. Knowing he’s getting close, you gently tug on his hair, short little bursts of pain that drive him crazy and get his hips moving faster.

“Jusss like that, god, you’re taking me so well, doing so well,” he says before grabbing onto your hips and holding you in place and thrusting up into you almost frantically. “Wanna be with you all the t-time, wanna fuck you every day, every night, keep you - yeah, do that again baby, pull my hair like that - keep you full of me.”

You moan at the idea, loving the thought of Bob just taking you whenever he pleases.

“Yeah? T-that what you want? I’ll do it for you, do any-anything for you, gonna fuck a baby into you one d-day and make our own little fa - I’m so close - family,” he cuts himself off with a few more high-pitched moans, eyes slipping shut as if he’s picturing your future together.

The idea of being with Bob, having kids with him, settling down and spending your lives together, hits you like a freight train. You don’t think anything has ever sounded better to you.

“Want that, Bobby, want to be with you forever, wanna have your babies, please, Bobby,” you babble, hands running all over his hands and shoulders to pull him closer, hold him tighter.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, anything you want darlin’, oh my -“ he comes with a shout, eyes squeezing tightly shut and fingers holding onto you so hard that you will probably have bruises on your hips later. (You hope you do, you always wear all of the marks Bob leaves on you with pride.) You feel him twitch inside you, liquid heat making you feel impossibly full. He gives one, two little half thrusts as he finishes, before loosening his grip on your skin.

Fully panting, Bob takes a moment try and catch his breath before opening his eyes slowly. The look of pure adoration on his face almost knocks the wind out of you.

“Well,” he starts with a chuckle, pressing a few chaste kisses to your shoulder. “Nothing like that ever happened to me in high school.”

You bark out a surprised laugh, giggles spilling out as you watch Bob grin and then duck his head. The sun has almost fully set by now, pinks and oranges fading into purples and blues as the two of you laugh in Bob’s truck, faces flushed and glowing in the dusk.

In a minute, Bob will clean you up and help you get dressed, gently kissing you with each item of clothing you wrangle back on.

He’ll give you a look of confusion and then surprise when he realizes that his hat is somewhere underneath the seat and he’ll run his fingers through your hair to help you tame it before settling into the driver’s seat. He’ll rest one of those big, warm palms on your thigh as he drives you both back home, looking over to smile at you at every stop sign and red light.

You’ll both giggle, cheeks warm and eyes downcast when Bob’s mom asks about your afternoon over dinner and he’ll mentally start picking out engagement rings when he watches you bounce his nephew on your knee when the family gathers in the living room afterward.

Later that night, after you’ve both shyly admitted that you were serious about the promises you made to one another in the truck, Bob will smile as he watches the moonlight illuminate your sleeping face.

But for now, you two just enjoy this perfect moment, wrapped in one another as the crickets begin chirping outside. And neither you nor Bob think you’ve ever seen the other look more beautiful.

.

(Are we still doing readmore sacrifices?) Either way, please reblog or comment if you enjoyed!

[skyeslittlecorner]

Some headcanons about Mc who suddenly leaves hell without anyone knowing (no notice (?) too, i mean not saying anything about their leaving).

I imagine that the kings have separation anxiety (hohoho love some angst stuff here 😈), but kinda wonder what's gonna happen when MC returned?

I feel allowed, and even encouraged, for some yummy angst~ We will switch order a little this time. And I *may* be a *little* biased, don't mind me.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Leviathan tries to live without you as he did before he met you, but it's not the same. When you finally show up, he wants to hang you. But what if you leave again? No. He won't allow it. From now on, you are under constant surveillance. You're not even allowed to go to the bathroom alone (no, there's no negotiation.) He's lost too much to lose you too.

Beelzebub won't even know you're gone. You would have to literally disappear from under his nose during sex, well, a date too. In such a scenario, he would be furious. You wouldn't come back because he would find you; he has a whole army of clones, a lot of time, willingness and knowledge of the whole world geography. He would even snatch you back from heaven. Afterward, when he had you in his arms, he would think it was quite a lot of fun. But don't do that again.

Mammon has already ordered mourning in Tartaros, a huge site has been built for the construction of your own mausoleum. Have you seen the Taj Mahal? This is a dollhouse in comparison to the plans for your posthumous palace. But you're back, and you're alive! Or at least you're still alive, because Mammon is hugging you so much that nothing is certain. Now that you're back, maybe you want a huge palace to live in? He will do anything you want. Just don't leave, Master. Of course, you can do whatever you want, but... he will do anything to make you *not* want to leave.

Satan

It feels... so quiet here. So alone. His beautiful country shambles in ruin, his strong people lose their heart. He, as a king, must stay strong, but with every soldier bleeding out on the pavement, every devil loosing their limbs, every child losing parents his own will crush slowly. All he wanted to do was to help them. To make their lives easier. To take their pain and bear it himself.

"...prise, Your Majesty?"

Satan lowered the bazooka from his shoulder. His gaze was as empty as the sky beneath them. All the angels disappeared in a powerful explosion.

There was a ray of hope for Gehenna, for him, or rather... have been. But Descendant of Solomon disappeared. He looked for you everywhere. Trashed half of Mammon's palace, tore down Leviathan's ropes, damn it, he even found Beelzebub wandering around the pubs and shook all the information out of him. But nobody knew anything. He almost started a war with other countries and didn't care at all. This helplessness weighed was heavy inside him like a boulder.

"Your Majesty?"

Slowly, day by day, hour after hour, he was losing his strength. His will. Not to fight, but to live. This made him become quieter and angrier. Except for Sitri, all the nobles began to move out of his way. This only fueled his spiral of madness. He didn't sleep at night. Just fight, work and drink. If he didn't keep his mind occupied, the black void would fuel his wrath, and they had had to deal with his outbursts often enough. They were so strong that sometimes the entire castle lost consciousness.

Nothing helped anyway.

He was the king, he couldn't just leave it all behind and die. Even if he wanted to.

"Satan!"

"What."

Satan. His name. Nobody but you called his name here... He looked around frantically, but they were alone. Sitri tried to wake him up, it seems. His henchman looked concerned. It's annoying. So annoying. And he didn't mean Sitri's concern, but his own ridiculous behavior. Was it so obvious that he was worried again? He gritted his teeth and turned on his heel, heading to the hospital to assess the damage.

"Listen to me, won't you? I have significant information."

"If it doesn't concern them, I don't care."

"It does."

Satan stopped in his tracks and wanted to punch him. But this time with a hint of hope.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier!"

He did, but that wasn't the point now.

"They are waiting for you at the hospital. At least freshen up a bit before you…"

But Satan wasn't listening anymore. He ran towards the tents and tore the curtains, looking around like crazy. Only the touch of a hand on his shoulder stopped his hectic search. The voice that came poured into his emptiness, sweet and thick as honey. A familiar, beloved voice.

"It's okay, I'm back. I missed you too."

He couldn't answer, physically he just wasn't able to do it. There was a lump stuck in his throat. Stiff as a rock, he didn't want to turn around. What if this is a dream? A sweet delusion? But someone hugged him from behind, and hugged him tightly. Illusion couldn't do it.

He turned and hugged you, sliding to his knees. Kisses, caresses, love, he wanted to give you everything so that you wouldn't disappear. He needed you. His eyes were dry, but he felt like he was going to melt himself.

"Never do that again." Hoarse voice sounded like a threat, but both of you knew that it was out of love. "Never. Leave. Me. Again."

"I'm sorry." Your heart broke seeing him on his knees. "I won't."

"Promise."

You crouched down and grabbed his chin to finally look into his red eyes. For the first time since you left, hope sparked in them.

"I promise that I will never leave you, and if I do, I will always come back to you."

From now on, he won't let you out of his sight even for a moment. Not after you made him a promise that finally ignited his will to live.

PS. Try to disappear from him for a second, and he will shove Zagan's talisman up your ass.

[daemour]

Pairing: royalty!Mingi x royalty gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff, light angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au

Warnings: none

WC: 1898

Summary: You and Mingi aren't friends, not even after marriage. But you're not enemies either. In fact, you don't know where you stand but after an incident maybe it could be something more?

after being complained at for "never writing Mingi" (ahem @mingsolo) here we are! to tide us over while i struggle through nanowrimo i have a handful of prewritten fics so y'all aren't dehydrated

-

“With the power vested in me by the Gods, I unite Princess (Y/N) (L/N) and Crown Prince Mingi Song in holy matrimony, thus joining their kingdoms.”

The priest leads the two of you to join hands, and as you do light shines from within your clasped hands. The ceremony is over and you are now married to the…well, former nemesis of your people. The funniest thing was when you were just toddlers, your parents had even talked about marrying the two of you together. But then something changed. And it wasn’t long before both countries were locked in a war before you even had the chance to talk to the prince for more than your greetings.

It was devastating. Both countries were large and powerful, and the smaller kingdoms around them suffered for it. It was only when his father died that the high empire intervened and, as a result, decided to use your marriage to make peace. Mingi would not be crowned until he was married to you, and the wedding took place much sooner than you had hoped.

Which brings you to now. Neither you nor Mingi talked or even looked at each other the entire carriage ride home. It was not a joyous occasion, not for the two of you. No shared beds, or rooms, just barely acknowledging each others' presence.

In fact, you’re pretty sure he hates you. He rarely acknowledges your presence. You don’t know what to do with yourself in this hellhole. All you do is show your face in the throne room when needed and then retreat to either your private gardens or room until next called for.

“Yuri, could you do me a favour?” you call for your handmaiden, who might just be one of your only friends in this dreadful castle. The servants like you well enough but there’s only some much kindness they can offer before the nobles’ words get to you.

“Yes, milady?” Like a ghost, she moves to stand beside you, her hair glowing in the sun. Sometimes you look at her and feel she would be a so much better fit for the role of queen here. You can barely hold the attention of the court ladies while Yuri can shut them up with a single polite sentence. “How may I assist you today?”

“Could you do me a favour and fetch me some tea? You know my favourite. I’ll take it in my room, and you can take the day off.”

Yuri bows her head. “Thank you, milady.” You can hear the smile in her voice, excited at the prospect of a day off. You wave her off and as she enters the side door, you lean back on your hands and enjoy the rays of sunshine on your face for just a moment alone. You take moments like this with gratefulness, as it’s only when you’re truly alone that you feel almost at home.

With another sigh and a crack of your back, you brush off your full skirts and make your way to your room. It’s when you almost reach your quarters that you run into Lady Miyoung, a lady of high social standing that you heard was rumoured to be marrying Mingi before the war had started.

“Lady Miyoung, what a surprise,” you greet her quietly, tilting your head into a bow. “I did not expect to see you near this wing.” You did not expect her because this area is regulated strictly as only you, your personal servants, and your husband are allowed entrance.

“Oh, yes, a pleasant surprise, I’m sure,” Miyoung sniffs haughtily and your eye twitches. As much as she despises you, she’s popular among the court and if you dare raise a word against her the social exile you would face would be irreparable. “I heard the most interesting conversation the other day, you know.”

“Ah,” you are not quite that interested in court gossip, but if Miyoung found her way into your wing without being stopped, it must be something important.

“I heard,” Miyoung leans in as if you’re sharing secrets about childhood crushes, “that King Mingi has been looking for a second wife to bear him a son. A woman of his court, with high social standing, of course. In fact, I heard that he’s quite sick of his war trophy.”

And her words cut you deep. You know she’s referring to herself as the lady of the court with a high social standing, and that you are his war trophy. She’s not subtle, but she’s subtle enough that you cannot sentence her to anything without the wrath of the court against you. You feel your throat tightening but you force an almost painful smile on your face. “I see. Well, the rumours of the court have no bearing on how I will go about my day, so I thank you for your wisdom. You may leave.”

Miyoung raises a perfectly shaped brow, no doubt pleased at your obvious hurt but also craving more of a reaction. “Now, now, there’s no haste. A court doll like you must have nothing else of interest as her husband, His Royal Majesty, has much more important matters to attend to.”

Your eyes widen in shock. Never before had a court lady been so openly disdainful of you. Behind your back, easily, but to your face and in your quarters? You open your mouth to rebuke her but before a single word leaves your mouth, you hear wind rushing past your ears as a person stands before you. As your eyes move up his broad back your hand flies to your mouth as you recognise the back of Mingi’s head.

“My King,” Miyoung stutters out, just as surprised at his sudden appearance.

“Why are you here?” Mingi’s booming voice echoes in the narrow hallway. “I do not recall you being given permission to be in this area of the castle.”

“Why, Queen (Y/N) invited me herself,” she lies straight out of her teeth.

Mingi looks back at you, his eyebrow raised as he awaits your confirmation. And on any other occasion, maybe you would have folded in your eagerness to please the court, but your heart still stings from Miyoung’s words. You shake your head ever so imperceptibly.

Mingi nods. “I see. Now, Lady Miyoung,” his head snaps back to her and she has the audacity to flutter her eyelashes at him. “Lying to the King and putting words in the Queen Consort’s mouth is a punishment worthy of being stripped of your title.”

“Your Majesty!” Miyoung squawks and Mingi holds up a hand to silence her in the middle of her sentence.

“Not to mention the other offences I heard when walking by,” Mingi continues and Miyoung swallows as she realises the trouble she put herself into. “Spreading harmful rumours about the King and the Queen Consort?”

“You’re majesty, I wasn’t–” Miyoung tries to save herself but Mingi is not having it.

“Keep your snake mouth shut” he snaps “lest I cut your tongue off for disrespecting my wife. You have, by extent, insulted me as well. Second wife? Don’t make me laugh. Queen (Y/N) is a hundred times more the queen you would ever be.”

Before Miyoung could protest anymore, Mingi snaps his fingers and guards you didn’t even expect to be there come out of the shadows to take Miyoung by the arms.

“My King!”

“Mingi!”

Both you and Miyoung gasp in surprise, although yours is more confused and hers is plain offence, but Mingi ignores you both as he addresses his guards. “Take Lady Miyoung to the dungeons while I decide what to do with her.”

And without hesitation, the soldiers drag an offended and whining Miyoung away. It’s only when her hollers finally cease that you snap to attention, quickly bowing at your husband. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Mingi,” you state as he bows back. “I thank you for your help in dealing with Lady Miyoung, though.”

Mingi sighs. “I should’ve done more before, (Y/N), and I’m sorry. I should’ve known how hard it would be for you, moving so soon after the war.”

You shake your head as your hands clutch at your full skirts. “You have no obligation towards me. Lady Miyoung was, in a way, correct about one thing. I am a war trophy.”

“No obligation?” Mingi’s voice raises in volume but he pauses to calm himself down after he notices you flinch at the volume of it. “(Y/N), you are my wife. The furthest possible thing from a trophy. I should have nipped the gossip in the bud—neither of us wanted a war and we could not control our circumstances.” Mingi reaches forward, almost as if to hold your hands, but decides against it, his hands just hovering awkwardly in the air.”

“But you don’t care,” you contradict him, your voice small. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but I rarely ever see you, and the court thinks I’m a joke. I can’t show my face without hearing the whispers behind my back. I do my best to listen to the commoner’s struggles and offer solutions but there’s only so much I can do when the officials and their wives are against me.”

Your words stun Mingi to his core. “You think I’m indifferent?” At your careful nod, he overcomes his hesitation and takes your shaking hands, bringing them to his chest as you are pulled forward at the motion. “My wife, I adore you. I would be lying to call it love, but I hold you in such high regard, and given time, I would come to love you if you’d let me. I am so sorry that you came to that conclusion.”

You hesitate before reaching forward and squeezing his warm, large hands. “It’s okay,” you whisper. When Mingi raises an eyebrow you laugh breathily at his suspicion. “It truly is. Yes, I felt alone and out of place, but your words and kindness have comforted me. We can try again. I’ll attend more councils with you as is my duty, and we can have lunch together afterwards. I’ll do my best to appeal more to the nobles and we can get to know each other. I don’t hold it against you, Mingi.”

Mingi nods slowly as he processes your words. “We shall,” he smiles and you can’t help but smile back. He brings your hands to his lips, pressing a kiss against them. “We will, and that’s a promise. I will defend your reputation with all I can, and you will blossom in this court, I’m sure of it.”

You giggle a little at his phrasing and you give his hands another gentle squeeze. “I will hold you to that promise.” A pause as you stare into each others’ eyes and an idea hits you. “Mingi, are you busy right now?”

Mingi shakes his head. “No?” he cocks his head, his eyes warm.

Your eyes shine as your smile grows even more on your face. “Then please do me the honour of accompanying me to my garden, my King.” You punctuate your question with a short laugh and Mingi’s eyes shine as he nods.

“Please, let’s.”

You feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you gently pull him down the hall back from where you came.

[cinnamostar]

02: home

part one.

pairing : minho x gn!reader

summary : “I have known you for thousands of lifetimes, and I don’t regret meeting you in a single one.”

wc : 7.3k

cw : childhood friends, arguing, angst, sadness, mentions of bullying + racism/xenophobia, best friends to lovers, fluff, sappiness, its so doooomed

a/n : pls read part one before this! i was in so much pain as i wrote this, so im sorry in advance, my dear reader. please let me know what you think! likes and reblogs appreciated

tags: @im-on-a-hellavator , @httpswilloww @atinyniki (its not letting me tag so i hope this works ;w;)

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Maybe that was a little too harsh, Minho thought to himself as he remembered your glassy eyes and the guilt that painted your face a depressing blue, the bashful glowing smile of yours he adored nowhere to be found. Oh, how his heart soared to the heavens when he saw you back at the pond you both once called home years later, the same vibrance you carried as a child seemed to have never left you even after so many years. How he missed seeing you smile so timidly, yet lovingly, at the tadpoles who swam underneath the pond's surface, how he missed seeing how breathtakingly beautiful you looked as the wind bellowed through your locks, and how he missed you. 

It didn’t matter how many times the earth had rotated around the sun, it didn’t matter how long it had been, his heart could never let you go. 

The instant he saw someone standing at the pond, his body and soul knew it was you, there was no way he’d ever mistake that nostalgic, comforting presence of yours as anyone else’s. The way the soft rays of the sun highlighted your features nearly made his heart skip out his chest, as if he just saw an angel standing before him; the cherub he once knew as a child had grown up.

How he hoped you’d finally come back home to him, how he desperately wished for years to relive the sweetest moments of his childhood, how he wished you were there for each and every milestone in life, and how he wished you two could finally make up for lost time. And while his heart yearned for you, the abandonment he felt in his childhood festered inside him, as if he had taken a swig of poison that sought to destroy the love and adoration he had for you in a bitter, resentful, rage. He couldn’t help it, the pain and misery he felt growing up had never truly left and your presence reawakened those wounds he never learned to heal. His heart stretched painfully in this twisted game of tug-of-war, unsure on whether he should feel thankful for your return or relent to the enmity that had rotted within him for god knows how long.

Yet, it was so easy to submit to the indignation he was feeling as it overpowered any sense of gratefulness, choosing to ignore the miracle of you being back as his mouth soured over the taste of resentment. 

Had his prayers finally been answered? Has he finally wished you back into his life? I’m an idiot, he cringed as he began to regret his behavior. Maybe his anger wasn’t justified, maybe he should’ve met you with more grace. After all, you weren’t wrong, you were just a kid who knew no better. It wasn’t fair to him, but neither was his treatment to you after the fact. Ah. The guilt you must’ve felt over the years could not have been easy to manage on top of the stress of living in an entirely foreign country, as your tearful eyes showed him how much you had been agonizing over this. For so long, he had convinced himself you had forgotten him entirely, no longer cared for him as he mourned over you as if you had died, yet the years of the youth you both shared came rushing in like a tsunami the minute you both made eye contact. The overwhelming emotions of nostalgia and regret was a feeling only you two could ever understand, and my, was it complicated to choose how to feel with thousands of nameless emotions competing with one another.

The love Minho had for you never left, almost as if it laid dormant for years as it hoped for the day you two would meet again, the familiar butterflies of his childhood crush blossoming once again at the sight of you. Somehow, everything and nothing about you changed, it was something Minho didn’t have words to explain or couldn’t quite wrap his mind around. You were the Y/N he knew and doted on as a child, but you had grown into an astonishingly beautiful adult version of yourself and he found himself falling in love the instant his soul recognized you. 

For so many years, Minho had tried his best to erase any memory of you, but his heart couldn’t deny the love it had for you and no matter how hard he tried, it was always you. Through the trials and tribulations of life, you were his safe haven, the very thought of you bringing a sense of peace and tranquility no other could, and during the lowest points of his life, his body always instinctually took him to the same pond as a refuge. He coveted you and your presence, yet the pond was the closest he could get to you and the feelings he had longed for. 

Just maybe Minho was being unfair to you, he thought. After all, you both were just kids.

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Since your run in with Minho, you had been suffering with an overwhelming amount of guilt, carrying the weight of shame on your shoulders as you came face to face with him for the first time in years. Having to finally confront the pained and saddened expression he wore was something you could have never prepared for, and the very memory of it was enough to make you break down in tears. 

You knew what you had done to Minho was extremely hurtful, and you couldn’t imagine what that must’ve felt like, no matter how hard you try. But knowing and witnessing it were two completely different things, and after seeing Minho’s watery eyes, you weren’t sure if you could ever forgive yourself. He was right, though. Maybe you shouldn’t have come back, maybe coming back was only reopening old wounds you both didn’t need to be dealing with all because of your selfish need to reconnect with your culture. 

Though, after spending most of your life overseas, you were starting to feel like you didn’t belong in your home country anymore. You had lost touch with cultural traditions, basic etiquette, and even struggled to speak your native tongue as well. You still spoke like the eight year old that had moved away long ago, and it was becoming increasingly embarrassing as you compared yourself to everyone around you. You stuck out like a sore thumb and for the first time in your life, you began to realize you didn’t fit in anywhere. Not here, not in the states. You were too much of your ethnicity to be considered a proper American, and you were too American to be considered a true citizen of your country, despite spending the first eight years of your life here. Coming back home didn’t reaffirm your identity, but only left you more confused and questioning who you even were. 

Minho was right, this was a mistake.

You so desperately craved a sense of belonging, and you became certain you weren't finding it here anymore, but you had to make it through the rest of your trip at the very least. You were just going to try to continue business as usual though, hoping you would not run into Minho again and would simply forgo the pond entirely. It should be simple enough, you thought. No one needed to know about your accidental meeting with Minho and you were sure he’d avoid you like the plague. It should be fine.

Well, that quickly changed as soon as your mom told you Minho’s mother invited your family to dinner at their house. The color from your face immediately drained as a cold sweat formed all over your body, your mother seemingly ecstatic at the news, “Oh, it will be just like old times! And you can finally see Minho after so long, isn’t that great, sweetheart?” she beamed, your father also nodding alongside her. 

You cleared your throat as you forced a fake smile, “Yeah, that does sound great, mom. When are we going over?”

“Tonight! So make sure to be ready to walk over by seven, okay?”

Tonight? Oh, god, no, that was far too soon when you had just barely recovered from seeing Minho yesterday, and now tonight? Breathe, Y/N. Just one night, then you’ll never see him again,  you ressaured yourself, trying to find a way to make this news manageable. You honestly should have seen this coming, your mom was also best friends with Minho’s mom, but for some reason that detail had escaped you.

Just one evening, just one dinner, then it would be all over, right?

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Dinner was going as well as it could have. Minho’s mother spent a great deal of effort preparing a feast for your family and she showered you with compliments as soon as you walked through the door, commenting how you had grown into such a lovely young adult. 

Minho and you only exchanged an awkward hello, which didn’t raise any alarms in either of your parents as they somewhat expected this, especially considering how your friendship ended as children. Nonetheless, it did not stop the onslaught of questions each set of parents asked in attempts to catch up, nor did it stop them trying to force a conversation between you two.

“So, Y/N, how was university in the states? Did you like it there?” curiously inquired Minho’s father.

“Oh, it was great! Definitely got to meet some life long friends there and had lots of fun,” you politely responded, “I didn’t exactly live the typical all-american college experience, but it was still nice. Excited to start my new job once I get back though! I got a really good offer and the position I wanted.”

Minho’s mother gasped as she congratulated you, “That’s amazing! I remember your mother telling me how stressed you were about those interviews, but I’m glad you got it,” she then turned her head to Minho while giving him a slight nudge, “Minho also graduated, he got a job offer as well. Tell them about it, Minho.”

Minho awkwardly cleared his throat, “Uhm, yeah, I just got an offer with a bank here as an analyst, but I’m waiting to hear back from another company before negotiating.”

You nodded as he spoke, looking anywhere, but him as your parents also commended him, you weakly congratulating him as well. Wow, this felt painfully awkward, but somehow neither of your parents seemed to care too much about the tension between you two.

“How about a special someone, Y/N?” Minho’s dad asked, the question catching you by surprise. Your eyes landed on the boy who sat across from you, who looked just as surprised, but fully interested in your response.

“Ah, no, not right now… Kinda focused on myself for now,” you respond, a stiff smile on your face, feeling nervous under the sudden intensity of Minho’s gaze.

Your mother let out a chortle, finding your embarrassment endearing, “What about you, Minho? Any girlfriends?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows as everyone else joined in laughing.

“Minho does have a girlfriend! It’s such a shame she couldn’t make it tonight, she was a lovely girl,” his mom piped, “Reminded me a bit of you, Y/N, if I’m being honest.”

You didn’t know why, but something inside you sank, an indescribable wave of disappointment washed over you at the words girlfriend. Of course he had one, he’s, well, an attractive, smart, man. Of course, but why were you so bothered by it? You haven’t spoken to him in years, you virtually had no relationship with him and only had remnants of the past to hold onto, yet your stomach began to twist and turn inside you, almost as if you were jealous? Ah, no, this is weird, this isn’t right. Maybe the food just isn’t sitting with you well, maybe you caught a stomach bug that just so happened to show its symptoms just in this moment.

The boy coughed, “We, uh… We broke up, that’s why she isn’t coming.”

Everyone stood in silence, not expecting that kind of news over dinner, both sets of parents shooting him an apologetic look, but for some reason, you felt relieved to hear that. The pit that was forming in your stomach suddenly vanished, as if Minho’s words just cured you of your ailment.

“What, you never told us!” Minho’s mother exclaimed.

“It was a few weeks ago, it happens. I’m fine, really.” 

Maybe that explains the tired look in Minho’s eyes when you first saw him yesterday, maybe that explains the somber look he carried that day, and perhaps he went to the pond for a moment of peace, just as you did, except your very presence ruined it. There returned the familiar hand of guilt that rested its heavy hand on your shoulders, never giving you the chance to take a deep breath.

Beside that, dinner did move on relatively well as everyone took turns to catch up or reminisce on the olden days, all while gossiping about who was up to what. As dinner came to a close, both sets of parents decided it was best for you two to be left with washing the dishes alone in the house, as they moved to the patio area to chat amongst themselves.

Minho and you silently stood next to each other as he washed the dishes, handing them to you for them to dry with a rag, much as you two did while growing up. Although you two were much older, there was a comforting air that hung around you two that allowed you to relax the tension your body had been carrying over the dinner, humming a quiet tune as you dried each plate.

“You still hum while doing the dishes?” Minho asked, a small amused smile taking over his features.

You froze in place, not expecting him to willingly speak to you, much less take the time to ask you a question. “I guess I still do,” you replied lightly, afraid that the mere sound of your voice would somehow upset him. 

A quiet lull returned after your response, neither of you knowing what to do or even say around another as guilt nibbled away at each of you, but for your own different reasons. 

“I’m sorry.”

 “I’m sorry”

You both turned to each other, eyes widened in surprise as you both rushed mumbled apologies to each other at the same exact time. Neither of you knew what to do in this unexpected situation, awkwardness filling both your eyes as you both struggled to stammer out a response.

“I… I’m sorry for never telling you I was leaving, I should’ve known bet-”

“No, no, we were both kids. Neither of us knew better. I’m sorry for being so… rude. I don’t know what got into me. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered anxiously, continuing to dry the glass cup in your hand, “It’s a lot to handle all at once. I don’t blame you one bit.”

“It really isn’t okay. We were both hurting in our own ways, I think we both did the best we could at the time,” he smiled reassuringly at you, the same one he had flashed you the first day he dragged you out to the forest to find the pond, a smile you had come to miss. 

“Oh, and sorry about… your ex? Break ups suck…”

“It’s fine, I actually am glad we broke up… she was, well… it wasn’t great for either of us,” he mumbled, not willing to divulge any further, “Break ups suck? Sounds like you’ve had your fair share.”

You laugh lightly, “Unfortunately. Mine weren’t as peaceful as yours. You sound a lot happier than I was.”

“Well, you’ve always been a crybaby. Guess not much has changed about you, huh?” he mused, a teasing smirk forming on his face.

You rolled your eyes as you snorted, playfully nudging him with your hip, “Shut up. You’re still as annoying as I remember too.”

“I bet you missed it.”

“I did. A lot. Moving sucked.”

He handed you the last of the dishes to dry, deep in thought as he leaned his back against the kitchen counter, “Was it hard?”

You sighed as you put the last dish away, turning to him as you swallowed thickly, “I think I cried nearly every day for two years straight,” your gaze was stuck looking down at the floor as you fiddled with your fingers, “It was really hard. I didn’t have friends for a long time. No one understood me when I tried speaking English, and I didn’t understand the other kids a lot of the time, but I always knew they were laughing at me.”

Minho’s heart ached hearing how your voice slightly quivered as you recalled the memory, he could tell it was your first time ever saying any of it out loud. There was an icy sadness surrounding you as you spoke, yet no tears were to be found. Maybe you were good at hiding them, or maybe you had grown too tired to cry for your younger self at this point, but it didn’t take away from the scars the loneliness had left on your heart. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I should’ve been there for you.”

You shook your head, an exasperated laugh left you as a resigned smile took over your face, “It’s okay, it was years ago. I’ve learned to deal with it. Besides, I did end up making friends and I ended up learning how to speak English.”

Minho was amazed at your ability to force a cheerful expression while discussing something so traumatic, something he would have never expected you to be able to do. He couldn’t help but wonder what you had endured all these years on your own, wondering where the sensitive and delicate version of you he had once knew had gone, feeling angry that you had been hurt so much that your tenderness was forced to become a callous exterior. 

The child he had once known was so fragile, he had to wear gloves when handling your porcelain heart, nervous his very own touch or breath could crack it if he wasn’t careful. Minho hated seeing you cry. He would defend you, fighting tooth and nail, like his life depended on it if anyone ever upset you, even going as far as angrily huffing and puffing at your parents if they ever raised their voice at you. And every time, he would comfort you right after in a gentle embrace until you calmed down, making sure to glare at anyone who tried to disturb your peace. How much did your little heart break over the years? Who was there to pick up the pieces and comfort you through those moments? Had you really dealt with it all by yourself? The thought alone made Minho’s heart writhe in despair, aching as he mourned this realization.

You reached out to grab Minho’s arm as you saw the downcast expression on his face, “Hey, it’s not your fault. I learned how to defend myself and I think I turned out pretty okay at the end of it,” you reassured before laughing, “Unless you think I’m lame now.”

Your laugh was enough to bring Minho out his incessant thoughts, a mischievous grin returning, “I never thought you were cool in the first place.”

“Minho!”

“Kidding, kidding. I’m just glad to have you back. I missed you lots.”

“I missed you too.”

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Over the past few days, you and Minho had become inseparable, spending nearly every minute of the day with one another, much like how you two did when you were children. For the first time in years, you finally felt that you belonged somewhere, no longer feeling out of place like you have since the day you moved away. It didn’t matter where you were, but as long as Minho was there, you felt like you were at home. He knew this too, he noticed the change from the first day he found you at the pond again to now. You were much more relaxed, as if all the worries in the world disappeared while you both were together, giggling over whatever stupid joke was made. You weren’t on edge as you were before, and the walls you had surrounded your heart with slowly crumbled away through his affections. 

And even though over a decade has since passed since you two last spoke, it was as if time had paused since the moment you left, and only resumed from the day you both made up. Nothing has changed, except everything about the two of you changed. Your childhood friendship continued like it was nothing, playing like a song that had been paused, waiting to sing its tune, except you two were much older, more matured, and had experienced so much of life. Whatever you each went through shaped you into the adults you were today, yet the kids you each knew hid behind locked doors that only the two of you had accessed.

Yet, there was a more complicated matter that you had to address before it snowballed out of control. Your feelings. Love was never a word you and Minho shied away from, as you often told each other ‘I love you’ while growing up, it seemed natural during that time of childlike innocence. You knew you loved Minho, and you knew he loved you, but saying it as adults had an entirely implication and your feelings were indicating something much deeper than platonic love. 

It was no secret that your childhood best friend had grown into a rather handsome man, and the childhood crush you once had on him was flourishing into something greater than just a crush. The smallest of gestures would send a frenzy of butterflies and warmth rushing throughout your veins, hoping to god Minho had not noticed just how much of an effect he was having on you.

If you two were walking through a crowded area, he’d grab your hand without hesitation as he led you through the swarms of people. If you had food stuck on the corner of your lips, he’d grab a napkin and wipe it off. If you saw a small trinket at the shopping mall you wanted, the very next day he’d come back with the item in hand, saying he bought it so you could remember to text or call him when you went back to the states. It was moments like those that felt so incredibly intimate to you, but part of you wasn’t sure if it could all be explained away by how comfortable you two were with one another. 

And here you were again, sitting on the couch of Minho’s living room after he had begged you to watch a new scary movie with him, insisting this was to make up for the pre-teen years you both missed out on and that he would’ve forced you to watch one then. You tried to protest, saying that you guys weren’t kids anymore and there was no need for these ‘tests of bravery,’ yet you couldn’t resist the way he would pout and whine, begging you to do so for him just like he would as a child. 

You were barely watching the movie, just peeking out from behind a blanket as Minho’s secure arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head laying on his chest as you cowered in fear over the pure suspense of the movie. Each time you’d flinch, you could feel a soft rumble come from Minho’s chest, doing his best to stifle a laugh and hide the fact that he was enjoying every moment of this. 

“I fucking hate you,” you scowled, still recovering from the last jumpscare.

Minho giggled at your face, finding your attempt to look upset absolutely adorable, “No, you don’t,” reaching his other arm over you as he squeezed you into an affectionate embrace, “It’s not my fault you’re still a giant baby after all these years.”

You grumbled while doing your best to shove Minho off you, but there was no way you’d be able to overpower him. You’ve hugged Minho so many times throughout your life, but this time, it sent your heart racing so loud that you could hear it drumming in your own ears, silently praying that he couldn’t hear it too. Something about this hug felt different, especially when he kept you close in his arms, refusing to let you go as he snuggled into you. This trip was going to be the death of you.

Without fail, every time you jolted in your seat, Minho was quick to chuckle at each of your reactions and tighten his grip on you gently, not skipping a beat to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead while whispering to you that it was just a movie. If you were two kids, this would be something normal and innocent, but right now, it left you feeling like a flustered mess who was melting under the heat of his affection.

You were slowly feeling yourself short-circuit, your body starting to sweat from the heat of embarrassment that was washing over you. Surely, Minho would feel the amount of warmth emanating from you at this point, yet he seemed completely unbothered as his eyes were trained on the movie ahead of you. You were relieved that he seemed aloof to the distress you were experiencing, but also mildly insecure that he seemed so… relaxed despite the proximity you two shared. Maybe he had only seen this under the same childhood innocence and nothing more, maybe it was only you making a big fuss over this.

It was becoming too much for you to bear as you started to shift uncomfortably, slowly getting up while excusing yourself to the bathroom. Minho’s eyebrows furrowed with concern, “Are you okay?” 

You nodded your head hastily as you made your way to the bathroom, “Uhm, yeah! Just not feeling well suddenly, not sure why. Just gonna splash some water on my face.”

He didn’t seem too convinced, he could sense there was something more to it, but decided to let it go. You raced to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you to finally catch a breath, shaking your hands as if you were trying to remove all the nervous energy out of you. Your face was hot to the touch, thankful for the cold water from the faucet as you splashed it onto your warm cheeks. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but it was long enough for Minho to come knocking at the door, “Y/N? Is everything okay?”

You swung the door instantly, startling Minho as he backed up from the door, his eyebrows raised at your change in behavior, “What’s wrong? Don’t lie to me, I can tell something’s up.”

Minho’s eyes narrowed as he looked into yours, trying to search your eyes for an answer as you bit the inside of your cheek, your eyes entirely avoiding him, “It’s nothing, I’ll be fine-”

“Y/N.”

“I promise, I’m probably just overreacting, Minho. I’ll be fine.”

He stared down at you with his arms crossed, pursuing his lips as he watched the corners of your lips twitch, a telltale sign that you were lying, “Am I making you uncomfortable? Was the movie too much for you? You know you can tell me anything.”

You shook your head panickedly, “No, no, it’s nothing like that, I swear! Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N.”

You gulped, you knew there was no way out of this. Minho knew you better than anyone else, he knew you weren’t randomly feeling ill over nothing, he knew it had nothing to do with the movie. 

“I really don’t wanna talk about it, Minho. It’s okay.”

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it, but can you at least tell me if it has anything to do with me?”

The stubbornness you found charming as a child was definitely an absolute pain in the ass as the adult man in front of you analyzed every microscopic detail you, trying his best to get to the bottom of what had you acting strangely. You couldn’t lie to him, no, he would know as soon as you opened your mouth it was a lie. Sure, you could tell him he was the cause of your unsettledness, but would that even go well? There were too many factors to consider, too much to think about and your long pause told Minho everything he needed to know.

He sighed, taking a step back as he started to make his way back to the living room, “It’s fine, I can tell. If this is too much, we can stop here. We can talk about it tomorrow morning.”

“N-no!” 

The words flew out your mouth before you had the chance to even think. Oh, you were mentally cursing at yourself as Minho turned to you again, his face furrowed with confusion, “No?”

“I just… I mean, it’s just a lot, but it isn’t at the same time?” you sounded so unsure as you said it, which only caused Minho to tilt his head to the side as he tried to understand you.

“It’s too much, but it isn’t…” he mumbled to himself, his mind straining to figure out the riddles you were speaking, “I know I said we don’t have to talk about it, but you do realize you’re not making any sense, right?”

You forced a tight-lipped smile, inhaling sharply, “Uhm, yeah… It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

“You’re lying. You know exactly what you mean, you just don’t want to tell me.”

You winced at his bluntness, not really surprised at how direct he was being with you, “Do you not trust me anymore?”

His eyes glossed over with insecurity and worry as he asked that question, your heart dropping immediately, wanting nothing more than shoo those feelings away, “What? Of course I still trust you.”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s complicated?”

“But why?”

“Why can’t you just drop it?” you raised your voice in frustration at his insistence, not willing to budge as he tried to pry his way into your mind.

“Well,” he hesitated, “The last time you hid something from me, you left. So forgive me for being a little scared.”

Your mouth dropped open at Minho’s statement, not expecting him to be so vulnerable with you out of nowhere, “I… Minho, I’m sorry,” you whispered tearfully, your stomach flipping onto itself as it digested the grief Minho had just voiced. You stepped towards him, reaching for his hands as you clasped them between yours, “I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t really know if I should be saying this.”

“Trust me this time, please? I don’t want to be left in the dark again,” he pleaded, his mind reminding him of the day he waited for you as the amber sunset turned into the night sky.

Your hands started to tremble in his, your nerves taking over as you unexpectedly found yourself about to confess your feelings to a man who lived thousands miles from you, a man you had only started talking to a few days ago, a man who had somehow known you your entire life, despite missing so many crucial years together. Your breath hitched as the butterflies in your stomach got caught in your throat, your nerves signaling off as the electrifying feeling of adrenaline took over, “I, uh… I am really happy we’ve made up, I’m really happy to have rekindled our friendship with one another, and I’ve loved all the time we have spent with each other over the last few days, but…”

Trepidation ran through you, biting your lip for a brief moment as you hesitated to continue your sentence, “Maybe I’ve come to love it a little too much?” At this point, you were looking for every way possible to avoid saying your actual feelings, hoping Minho would connect the dots for you, but his face told you he had no idea what you meant. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me I’m still not making sense, I can see it in your face,” you sighed. He nodded, urging you to continue with patient eyes.

“I… like you?”

It was quiet, so quiet you swore both Minho and you could hear your heart thumping, your hands clamming up as you held his, terrified eyes examining his face for his reactions. He stilled for a moment, as if he was processing your words before breaking out into a grin, a hearty laugh escaping him.

“I already knew that.”

You froze in place, disbelief painting your face as you stared at him incredulously, “What?”

“Don’t tell me you’re also still clueless after all these years,” yet he took your silence as confirmation, shaking his head as he giggled, “Do you really think I was being overly affectionate with you for no reason?”

Your mouth dried up from nerves, stuttering over your reply, “I… Yes? I thought you were just… I don’t know, I thought you were just treating me the same way you did as when we were kids.”

“And do you know why I treated you like that growing up?” he questioned with a candied smile.

You blinked slowly, your head shaking cautiously as you tried to decipher his words, “Because… I don’t know? We were best friends.”

“Sure, that was part of it, but it was more like me having a giant crush on you.”

“...”

“... That means I still like you, if that wasn’t clear enough for you.”

There was no way this was real, this all had to be a dream, you just couldn’t believe your ears. Your childhood crush, the man that caused our feelings to go absolutely haywired in a matter of a few days, felt the same exact way for you this whole time and you just somehow missed it? No, no, this was certainly a dream, why on earth would he be into someone like you, someone who-

“Y/N,” he removed his hands from yours, resting them on top of your shoulders as he leaned down to come face to face with you, effectively waking you up from your reverie, “Let’s make up for lost time,” he whispered, his breath fanning on your lips, “Can I kiss you?”

You stared back with doe eyes, all your vocabulary escaping you as you gulped, nodding your head perhaps a little too excitedly. Minho’s smile only widened at your reaction, his rough hands traveling to cup your face with half-lidded eyes, his head leaning forward as his chapped lips closed the gap. His lips melded against yours, your hands grasping at his t-shirt as you felt your knees buckle under him, clinging onto him as if your life depended on it. You felt yourself weaken under his touch, becoming prisoner to his affection as the world around you quieted, much like the moment of silence that existed between the end of a performance and explosive applause of the audience. Everything stalled, as if the expanse of the universe took a pause and the supernovas’ violent bursts slowed to witness feverish kiss between you two. You were becoming lightheaded, pulling away from the dizzying kiss as your chests heaved in an attempt to catch your breath. Minho’s cheeks and ears burned a bright scarlet, a sweet smile grazing his features as his eyes brimmed with love and affection, softly whispering:

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Once again, the familiar, low, hum of mosquitos filled your ears as Minho’s firm hand led you down the same dirt trail you’ve traveled down hundreds of times, leaves brushing against the skin of your arms as you cautiously followed his grasp. Today, Minho told you he had one last surprise for you before you traveled back home, blindfolding you at the entrance of the forest as butterflies fluttered in your stomach, temporarily distracting you from the fact that this was your last day here before returning to the states, returning to your mundane life and leaving this mind numbing summer romance behind.

He slowed down his pace, signaling to you that you had arrived to your destination, his hands slipping out of yours as you felt his presence behind you, gently removing the blindfold as he softly whispered, “we’re here.”

As soon as the blindfold was off, your eyes blinked rapidly as they adjusted to the change of lighting, scanning the scene that stood ahead of them as Minho made his way into your vision, a saccharine smile beaming at you, “Do you like it?”

Like was an understatement as a grin broke out onto your face, your heart filling with an overwhelming amount of adoration as you took in the surprise Minho spent so long preparing for earlier this morning. There, beside the pond, laid a small plaid blanket with a picnic basket centered atop of it, a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a bottle of wine propped up against the basket. You gasped with delight as your heart softened, “Oh, Minho, I love it.”

His shoulders relaxed at your words, no longer feeling nervous as he grabbed your hand and guided you to the blanket, sitting down next to you as he gingerly laid out the food he prepared in front you. “I made you some of your favorites,” he added, gently opening the bottle of wine and pouring you a glass, “I hope its as good as it looks,” he laughed anxiously, handling you a small bento box with the a serving cutely prepared, the vegetables cut out into small hearts decorating the rice. You took a bite of the food as soon as you had the chance, a small moan escaping you due to how delicious it was, your eyes widening in surprise, not expecting it to be so flavorful, “Minho, this is so good, you made this?”

He proudly nodded, pride bubbling up within him as you complimented the meal he made for you, one where he spent an agonizing amount of time to make because it just had to be perfect for you, especially today of all days, a day he wanted to send you off with the happiest memories.

You both continued to enjoy the date Minho had put so much effort in, occasionally teasing one another or chuckling at whatever lame joke the other made, both of you trying to avoid the looming topic at hand, the inevitable ending of this summer love story that was doomed to last for only a few weeks.

“So…” Minho anxiously drawled, “You’re leaving tomorrow…”

You smiled weakly as you cleared your throat, “That I am.”

He pursed his lips, struggling to ask the question you both knew you needed to address, “So… what does it mean for us?”

A heavy sigh escaped you as the tension in the air thickened, both of you intently staring at one another, trying to decode what the other was thinking before speaking, “What do you want it to mean?”

“I asked you first,” he responded a little too fast for your liking, not willing to voice his thoughts without hearing yours first.

“Well, uhm…” you paused, debating with your mind and heart as you decided your next words, “I am going back to the states, back to my friends, back to my job, back to my life.”

“Right,” he mumbled with a crestfallen expression, “Your life is there, not here.”

“It is.”

“What about me?” he whispered in a quivered voice.

“Well, your life is here, my life is not here. I don’t really…” you took a deep breath, tears starting to prick your eyes, “I don’t know how we would work.”

He nodded tearfully, knowing he couldn’t deny the difficulty of managing a long distance relationship, especially one like this, “What if I moved with you? What if you moved back?”

You shook your head, your heart breaking at Minho’s attempts to find a solution, “Minho, you don’t even speak English, you wouldn’t be able to find a job there and use your degree-”

“I can learn! I promise, I’ll start studying-”

“Minho.” 

He stopped mid-sentence, his stubbornness refusing to let him accept the reality you two had found yourselves in, “Minho, you already have a job offer here, your friends and family are here. You wouldn’t be happy in the states, it’s so hard living there as a foreigner.”

“I’d be happy anywhere as long as I’m with you,” he begged, praying you’d at least try to see the glimmer of hope he was trying to conjure up, “I don’t care where, as long as I’m with you, I’d be happy.”

You bit your lip as you tried to suppress a sob, “You know that’s not true, you know your happiness can’t be dependent on me alone.”

“You don’t want to come back here?”

“I… can’t, Minho. My life isn’t here anymore, it hasn’t been in years.”

Crystal tears fell from Minho’s eyes, his eyes no longer being able to meet yours as the your words crushed his soul, the love he felt for you expelling into his tears as he began to mourn your loss once more, sobbing much like he did all those years ago. Through hiccups, he blubbered “Please, Y/N. Please don’t leave me again.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you sniffled, no longer being able to watch the man you love completely fall apart in front of you, cursing yourself for your cruel words that stabbed over and over again in his bleeding heart. “I’m so sorry, Minho. I don’t want this either, but what choice do we have? You and I both know our lives would never cross paths, we would never be able to come together.”

“We can try-”

“For what? To only cry years later to have this same exact conversation again?” you snapped, your frustrated tears and guilty conscience no longer being able to handle his pleading, it only wounding you more. You’ve already spent the past few weeks trying to scour for a possibility, a fragment of hope that showed you a timeline in which you two would be happy together, but it simply didn’t exist in this life, no matter how many times you flipped and turned the story. This wasn’t a movie, this wasn’t some romance novel where love would triumph it all, this was the bitter and harsh realities of life, and you hated it with all your heart.

You let out a despondent sigh as you lamented over the situation, your hands gingerly reaching out for Minho’s chin, forcing his teary-eyed face to look at yours, “Minho, I’m sorry, baby.”

He sniffled, his nose reddening as hot drops cascaded down his cheeks, “I’m sorry too.”

“I love you with everything in me, Minho, and I always will no matter where life takes us,” you murmured heartbrokenly, “I have known you for thousands of lifetimes, and I don’t regret meeting you in a single one.”

His hands reached out to hold yours, removing them from his face as he grasped them tightly, as if he was fearing you’d fade away if he loosened his grip, “I just wish we worked in this one,” he trembled.

“Me too, but…” you heaved, “Maybe in the next one, right? You’ll find me again?”

He laughed melancholily, “Always. I’d chase you to the very end of the universe if I had to.”

“Kiss me one more time? So I don’t forget?”

He smiled with anguished eyes, not hesitating to tilt his head as his lips captured yours once more,  in one last, passionate kiss with all the devotion in the world, leaving the taste of your bittersweet love, one where only the two of you would know and understand. 

You were leaving him again, but at least he got to say goodbye this time.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 16 - Golden

Oh, How Rebecca Loved the Sun...

In a siding, tucked behind a long line of trucks awaiting transport to the works for repairs, sat a West Country class. Her name was Rebecca, and she was patiently awaiting her crew. Golden rays of sun shone down on her, warming her boiler through and leaving her comfortable and just a little sleepy.

“Morning, Rebecca,” called her driver, striding over from the sheds. “I see they left you out in the sun again, eh? You always were fond of the sun.” “It just feels so nice, driver,” chuckled Rebecca. “Surely you understand?” Her driver just nodded in agreement, already starting his checks. As soon as he was out of sight though, he grimaced.

Rebecca was a delightful engine to work with – but she was naïve and oblivious to the extreme. All around her, steam engines had been withdrawn and replaced by diesels and electrics – she herself had been moved from Exmouth Junction just before all her classmates there were unceremoniously pulled from service and dragged away to be cut up. And yet somehow Rebecca didn’t realise. She barely noticed as the number of steam engines around her grew smaller and smaller with each passing year, long time friends vanishing while she was out on an express run.

“They’re just being useful elsewhere!” Rebecca would say when her driver tentatively asked what had happened to them, hoping one day Rebecca would wise up to the truth of the situation and admit they’d been scrapped. And every time Rebecca replied that her old friends – many of whom she’d known since she was built – had simply been transferred, her driver caved and agreed that he’d heard that too.

What was he supposed to say to his engine? This living sunflower of a locomotive who only seemed to see the best in everything, even as she became run down due to a lack of maintenance.

“Come on Rebecca, we’ve got a train to pull,” her driver said kindly, and swung up into her cab. He could only hope to keep protecting her for as long as possible. At least until she either figured it out on her own or he was unable to hide it any longer. And much to his displeasure, he didn’t think either of those options had a very long lifespan left in them.

***

Rebecca’s driver clung to the letter, scrunching it up in his hands. His engine had been sold off.

“I thought I’d get longer,” he sighed, letting the letter fall to the floor as every fibre of his body seemed to sag in sadness. His golden girl was being preserved, sure – but not on the railway. She would likely not run again, not where she was going.

“Morning Rebecca!” he chirped, trying to put on a brave face. The West Country Class opened a sleepy eye, gazing down at her driver even as she hummed at the warmth of the beams of sunlight gently warming her boiler. “I have exciting news for you!” “Oh? What is it driver?” asked Rebecca curiously, gazing down at him with bright eyes. Looking closer, the deep, also black of the pupils was flecked with hints of golden, her eyes an almost warm brown in the sun.

“You’ve been sold,” her driver said as gently as he could. “You’re going to get a full overhaul and a special coat of paint next week, and then you’ll be going to your new home!” He tried to smile, but it felt weak in front of his engine. Rebecca just stared at her driver in confusion.

“Who bought me?” she asked. “S. J. Edwards’,” replied her driver. Rebecca frowned; had she been a puppy, she’d have tilted her head to the side in confusion. Her driver felt a bit like he was telling a golden retriever he was ‘selling it to a farm in Scotland’.

“Isn’t that the toy company?” quizzed Rebecca. “I didn’t know they needed an engine.” “Neither did I, Rebecca,” replied her driver. “But that’s who bought you.” Rebecca seemed… apprehensive about the revelation that she was being sold on, but still went about her regular duties with her usual cheerful mood.

“Maybe I’m going to pull special trains of toys for children,” she thought to herself out loud. Her driver winced in her cab, but said nothing. He would just have to let her dream for a little while longer.

The days passed rapidly, far too rapidly. The sun kept up its shining for once, giving Rebecca plenty of time out in its golden rays. To her driver, it was almost as if the heavens above were giving Rebecca her swansong. She was certainly getting the most out of the good weather, spending all her time out soaking up the sunshine in between trains. In the sheds, the other engines spoke in hushed tones about the odd West Country Class who just seemed oblivious to everything, though her driver did everything he could to keep Rebecca from hearing the whispers.

It was not enough. It was never enough.

Rebecca was sent to Eastleigh Works for the repairs. She was to get a full overhaul to prepare her for her new life – one of the last major overhauls of a steam engine the works would ever undertake, and also Rebecca’s first true taste of the truth. Without her driver or her friends around to protect her, Rebecca was faced with the ugly reality of British Rail. As she waited for her turn in the works, she was placed in the Eastleigh engine sheds, right near where rows of steam engines stood silent, men weaving between them with cutting torches. These men held none of the same love for steam engines that her driver did. Instead, they silently did their work, slicing deep cuts into slowly rusting engines to pull them apart and sell off their metal for reuse. A line of stonily silent trucks stood between the engines living at Eastleigh sheds and those dying there, a stark dividing line which was being steadily loaded up with the cut-up remains of the engines.

The weather changed too, the sun hiding away behind thick grey clouds that unleashed great heaps of rain all over the countryside. Rebecca was left cold and alone, not even able to talk to the other engines due to how shocked she was.

“Poor thing,” sighed a Lord Nelson Class from the other side of the yard. “She really had no clue apparently. Must’ve been nice, living without the knowledge.” Rebecca didn’t agree. She wished she had known, she wished she’d been able to grab all of her friends and cling tightly to them. They were gone now, weren’t they? Brought to places like this and left on cold, damp sidings until they were ripped into by the scrappers. They’d all put on such positive attitudes around Rebecca that she’d never suspected, never heard the undercurrent of fear that permeated every illness and rust patch that made itself known.

Her friends were dead.

Rebecca was a very different engine, going into the works. Even as she was buffed and shined and gifted brand new parts machined to perfection to ensure she was the absolute peak of health, all she could think about was how there were hundreds of engines right outside being treated to agony and death while she was pampered. Rebecca didn’t even notice the golden yellow livery being deftly applied until it was finished, bright orange and red lining and embellishments being carefully added to compliment the new colourful livery. Her number was changed, as was the lettering on her tender.

Gone was the old British Railways logo; in its place stood a large stuffed bear holding a banner with ‘S. J. Edwards’ written on it in a fancy logo. The teddy bear looked very fancy, not that Rebecca could see it. All she could see was the men scurrying about in front of her, preparing her to be moved.

She had taken up enough space in their workshop for too long already, and now they wanted her gone so they could begin work on the next EMU overhaul. Rebecca was dragged out by a Class 07 and gently pushed backwards up a rickety ramp and onto the back of a Scammel Contractor lorry. Rebecca felt very odd as she watched her tender get added to a second trailer moments later, seeing just how different it looked for the first time.

“Where am I going now?” she asked the foreman. “S. J. Edwards’ main plant,” replied the foreman briskly. “You’ll be their shining mascot… or something like that.” He turned away to signal that Rebecca was chained down and ready to move, even as Rebecca began to realise just what the foreman had said.

She was to be a mascot. Mascots didn’t move, they didn’t haul around presents. They sat still and smiled even as the years wore down on them. She’d seen it from an old tank that had been the mascot of a town until he was so rusted and tired that he had to be taken away and placed in a specialist museum to be restored.

Or maybe that had been a lie, and he’d also been scrapped.

Rebecca travelled far on the roads, through towns she’d once served that now had only diesels, if any railway at all. How had she been so blind to everything changing? How had she managed to miss each event as it happened?

The truck turned again; Rebecca felt something shift under her. The roads were so uncomfortable, and yet it was the only way to the factory now. There was no railway out to the S. J. Edwards main facility anymore, because British Railways didn’t think it important.

There were no more steam engines safe from scrap because British Railways didn’t think they were important.

The truck slowed to a stop, and a crane rumbled up. Rebecca looked over – the building was certainly fancy, and right inside the front entrance there stood a plinth. It was empty but for a pair of rails set into the concrete.

That… that was her new home, wasn’t it?

Rebecca was carefully pushed inside, moved on temporary rails up to the plinth before her brakes were locked on, chocks were forced under her wheels and the temporary rails were ripped up. Her glorious golden paintwork was starkly contrasted by the tears falling from her eyes.

“Stop crying and smile, idiot!” snarled a man in a pinstriped suit. “You’re meant to be a mascot, not a sob story. What child wants to see a blubbering mess when they come visit?” The man rapped his cane against Rebecca’s buffers. It didn’t hurt, but it was enough to silence the stunned engine.

Rebecca looked up – above her stood a large dome from which great white lights hung to illuminate everything far too brightly. It was nothing like the golden rays of sun Rebecca so loved to feel on her boiler. These lights weren’t warm, they were cold and unforgiving.

And at night, they were abruptly shut off, plunging Rebecca into the dark with only her own thoughts and her tears.

And even today, one has to wonder if Rebecca will ever feel the sun again? 

Back to the Master Post

[everlasting-rainfall]

-Most Terrifying Yandere in One Piece-

Okay so I just had a thought of who the most terrifying Yandere in One Piece would be as yes, Luffy is someone who would probably rip the entire world apart just to get his hands on you but it ain’t him in my personal opinion

Sanji would crack the skull of any man who tried to speak to you and Zoro is so intimidating that no one would probably even dare try to speak to you

Boa would trap you with her without you even knowing that you’re trapped and if you ever do then you won’t be able to do anything about it, Robin knows exactly how to hurt you and exactly what to say in order to keep you from leaving her side

Akainu could have an “Only Alive” bounty placed on your head if you ever managed to escape him, Garp would chase you to the ends of the earth until he had you again

Kaido would keep you locked up in Onigashima in a place where only he would only be able to access you to ensure that he’s the only one that can see you, Big Mom would have you dragged off to Tottoland by her many sons and daughters in order to attend your wedding with her

But I gotta say that I don’t think any of them would be the most terrifying Yandere in One Piece and keep in mind that this is just personal opinion… But you know who would be?

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Kidnapping, No Hope, Total Island Destruction, Uncomfortable Situations, Attempted Murder, Starvation, Imprisonment, Mind Break

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA AND MOST RECENT EPISODES OF ONE PIECE-!

!-BEWARE SPOILERS-!

That would be this fucker right here in my personal opinion… Imu…

Why? Well I’d like you to think about this as Imu is someone that little to no one knows exists and no one even knows what Imu even looks like to begin with so let’s say that somehow you did manage to escape Imu’s grasp

You can’t tell anyone who had you… No one would know who you’re talking about and now that person you just told? They’re going to face an imminent death…

We all saw what happened on Lulusia too, all that just to kill Sabo who saw Imu if I’m right. An entire country wiped from history so if you told that person about Imu then you just potentially wiped that island out…

Granted Imu might leave you unharmed like they won’t kill you but there’s a good chance that when you’re brought back to them, it will be with your ability to walk or even stand removed so now you’re stuck with this person… Assuming Imu is a person, that is…

Plus I don’t think that Imu would even reveal their appearance to you for a good long while so imagine sitting down for a meal with this person covered head to toe in black, they stare at you with these unblinking red eyes anytime that you make a sound

If there was any way to lose your appetite, it would probably be from the sheer uncomfortable feelings brought on by Imu’s staring… I don’t think that they would even speak to you for a while after being captured so you’re just living with someone whose dead silent and won’t stop staring at you…

Also that brings up the case of imagine catching the attention of Imu like maybe you were one of the few people unlucky enough to be able to approach Imu but how much more terrifying would it be if you were just some civilian?

Who knows how they found out about you but once they decide that they want you, you’re being seemingly arrested out of the blue like you’ve done the worst crime imaginable if you aren’t just straight up kidnapped

Then you’re brought before this person who you’re absolutely terrified of and have absolutely no clue what they want from you only to be left alone with them because this is home now

Fucking horrifying if you ask me…

You can’t even hope at killing Imu either as even if they have no fighting skills, you’d probably have to get insanely lucky in trying to kill them like I’m talking winning the lottery eight times in a row on the same day then seeing like a quadruple rainbow on your way home only to find that every problem with your home miraculously fixed itself kind of lucky…

So let’s say that you did achieve that kind of luck and managed to sneak up and seemingly kill Imu in order to hopefully return to your life before all of this occurred, it seems like you might be home free and escape is so close within your grasp…

But let’s not forget about something…

And knowing that the Gorosei’s devil fruit forms can regenerate from seemingly just about anything, I’d assume that Imu can do it as well so they’re pissed that you tried to kill them after how kindly that they’ve treated you

So as you’re running, you’ll likely look back and see whatever this is chasing after you until it grabs you in a grip that feels like it’s trying to crush you as they drag you back where you belong

If you make Imu mad then they likely aren’t going to treat you with kindness like I can honestly see them depriving you of food and locking you up until you’ve learnt your lesson, Imu wouldn’t kill you and wouldn’t allow anyone to lay a finger on you to harm you

But by the end, you’ll be wishing that you were dead and no matter how much you might scream that you’ve learnt your lesson… Imu will leave you there until they know that you have only coming to you to give you just enough food and water to where you’ll survive…

Once Imu is sure that you’ve learnt your lesson and will never try anything like that again, that is when you’ll finally be freed from your prison and actually start to be treated with gentleness and kindness as well

Imu might even test how your time locked up affected as you as they’ll caress you and if you lean into it then they’ll kiss you… And if you return it? That’s probably the first time that you’ll hear their voice speaking the word “Good”

They’ll be gentle with you as they wash your body and take care of you until you’re all better but don’t think for a second that Imu won’t shove you back into your prison if it’s needed…

Now this isn’t to say that any other One Piece character isn’t absolutely terrifying as everyone is absolutely horrifying like hell… Luffy is absolutely horrifying because of Gear 5…

This is just my personal opinion on who I think is the scariest… And it’s Imu without a doubt for me…

[aurumacadicus]

92 or 14 maybe? 🤔

Going with 14!

--

Prince Anthony was picking his feathers out again.

Steve wordlessly set his shield aside and walked over to grab his hands, yanking them down, away from his wings. "Your highness--"

"I know!" Prince Anthony exclaimed defensively. His wrists jerked in Steve's grip, though, back toward his wings, and he wilted under Steve's stern glare. "I know," he repeated miserably.

It broke Steve's heart, but he turned to grab the picking glove, and while Prince Anthony obediently stuck his hands in so the mouth could be cinched tight around his wrists, he couldn't help but think it wasn't fair. Maybe Prince Anthony wouldn't be picking himself bald if he didn't have to choose a suitor in the next three days.

Prince Anthony had always been put off by the cock parties, as he'd called them--"cockerel balls" had always seemed to lend a layer of refinement to them that they didn't deserve, he'd said. Mostly, it was young cocks approaching and trying to impress prospective hens, and as Prince Anthony had a sizeable fortune behind him, he'd been the one most flocked to. It had made him suspicious, nervous even, of anyone's attention. Steve had watched, heart sinking with every ball, as grabby kids who barely knew what to do with a cloaca fawned all over Prince Anthony for the chance at his wing in matrimony.

It had given him nothing but a dim view on mating parties and cocks in general, which was probably why he'd gotten away with his secret for so long. He was so visibly disgusted after each cockerel ball that everyone assumed even if he was pregnant, he'd get rid of it as quickly as possible. Only when the rumors about his sudden cravings for sardines and almonds got loud enough to reach the royal court did it become necessary for Prince Anthony to undergo medical examination. And, well, when it was found to be true, that a royal hatchling was on the way, an unwed, pregnant royal was deemed a hazard to... what was it they had said? Public decency and the dignity of the crown?

Either way, it meant that another cockerel ball had been set up as quickly as possible, and Prince Anthony no longer had the choice of saying no to all comers if he wanted to keep his financial backing, even if he plucked himself bare in the meantime.

Steve watched Prince Anthony begin to pace, feeling helpless. His prince was in trouble, and he could do nothing of import to stop it. Prince Anthony looked like a caged animal as he walked up and down the carpet. He wasn't even showing yet. Was the palace hoping to get him wed immediately and lie about the hatchling being early? Someone would be bound to talk. That's what had started this mess, after all.

"I suppose," Prince Anthony began, voice halting and pained as he turned to pace in front of the window, obviously hoping the sun's rays would help him feel better. "That Lady Pepper is. Nice enough. Could pass the egg off as hers if we married."

"I suppose," Steve agreed, hoping he sounded noncommittal instead of just bitter.

"Or. Or that kind--Bruce? I think?"

"The alchemist Bruce was very kind," Steve answered with a nod.

"Or I could... I could just..." Prince Anthony stopped in front of the window, staring outside. Then, as quickly as he stopped, he turned around, eyes wide and beseeching. "Run away with me."

Steve's mouth dropped open in shock. He blinked at Prince Anthony slowly, unable to comprehend what he'd just been asked. Prince Anthony was a well-loved public figure, and while Steve was famous for his work in the war, he'd never been... someone people wanted to see running the country. In fact, if anyone ever found out that he was the one who had henned the heir apparent, he likely wouldn't be able to see him again. Prince Anthony was royalty. Steve had clawed his way up from the streets. He was only Prince Anthony's personal guard because there had been several attempts on his life, and Steve was the best at what he did.

"Run... away...?" Steve finally repeated, still not quite believing it.

"I'm just a figurehead for this stupid country," Tony spat, hope giving way to anger. "They only kept royalty on as a tradition they didn't know how to quit, as a show. I don't have any real power. And that's how they can bully me into getting married, picking a cock I don't even like all that much to be the legitimate father of my egg--So. So let's run away."

There were many reasons why Steve should say no. The country loved Prince Anthony, for one--he was only behind his late mother in terms of charity, and was quickly gaining on her record; despite the fact that he had no real power, he always did his best to influence parliament to vote in favor of the people; and the whole country had collectively swooned when a tabloid had leaked a picture of him holding a baby at the hospital with the quote 'babies need to be held' splashed under it. Steve was a nobody, come up from nothing, and most people did not have good things to say about him coming up from nothing because of the war.

Prince Anthony's gaze was steady, though, when Steve met his eyes. He was certain of his decision. That was one of the things Steve liked about him--he knew what he wanted, and if he could get it, he eagerly went through with it. And if he couldn't get it, he was a gracious loser.

"Your highness," Steve began with a sigh.

"I don't care if we're poor," Prince Anthony continued before he could voice his dissent, the determination in his voice making Steve's mouth snap shut in surprise. "You'll take care of us. And I--I have an education. I can get a job to help. You helped make this egg," he added sharply. "Are you refusing to take responsibility? And could you really just let someone else raise your chick?"

If he told himself it was for the better, to make sure the chick got everything it needed or wanted, he probably could. Prince Anthony would love it enough for the both of them, even if his new spouse only tolerated the chick. It wasn't ideal, but then, neither was getting Tony laden with egg before marriage. A marriage that couldn't happen because of who he was and who Prince Anthony had turned out to be. Steve opened his mouth to tell him in no uncertain terms that he would not be taking the spot from a more deserving rooster.

But he didn't want to. And Tony was clearly showing he didn't want to either. So he looked up at Tony and nodded sharply. "Alright, Tony."

"Tony," he repeated in a whisper, shocked. Steve only ever called him that in bed; he needed the separation of work and intimacy, and it helped to remind Tony, too, that he couldn't reach out and touch whenever he wanted. Steve watched as Tony's mouth spread into a wide smile as he lunged toward him, hooking his bound hands behind Steve's neck and pulling him down for an overjoyed kiss just bordering on desperation. Apparently, eschewing his proper name was all the real confirmation he needed of Steve's feelings.

Steve threw his wings up in a mating display just to make sure there was no misunderstanding.

[flycoffee]

Do you have any headcanons for Raimundo and Master Fung's necklaces in Xiaolin Showdown? Where did they acquire them, who did they get them from, how long have they had them, what do the necklaces mean to them personally, do they fidget with them a lot, stuff like that?

I do have one for Raimundo’s necklace, the medallion is from his grandpa, he acquired it when is very little when he was a baby his grandpa use it to dangle it around his face to play with him and Rai even uses it for teething eventually Grandpa just gives him the damn thing because he loves it so much when Rai gets older he thought it’s something very valuable from his grandfather (an actual medallion from his army) and he cherishes it, when he was 10 he accidentally throws it into a laundry pile with his clothing, he thought he lost it, usually he is very careful about this would take the necklace off before taking off his clothes. He searched everywhere and later confessed to his grandfather that he lost it but he just laughed and laughed, he said it was a souvenir from a street stand as if he would give his actual medallions to a baby, but tell him maybe after he passed away he will put a real one in the will to him. Later his mom found him and told him that she found it in the washing machine. And he still loves the damn thing even though it has no real money value in it.

Master Fu I don’t have any headcanon, since you ask I can think of some possibility of why he has it Master Fung, “Fung” is his surname 方 Fong and 仁 REN is the word on his necklace, and this is my headcanon that 仁 is his “Dharma name” (is the name given to those who convert to Buddhism. After the monks become ordained, the name given by the master to each disciple who becomes a monk. information from google) And a Dharma name usually chooses to wish the disciples to work towards the virtue the word represents or a virtue they already has and hope they will remember it and hold onto it no matter how hard the life become, and Ren 仁 means Benevolence, I like to think master Fung has it custom-made in the tourist gift shop Chinese first name Keychain section, I don’t know if it’s the same in China but in my country Taiwan you can see the surname name chains in every tourist spot, and 仁 is a rare name so he has it custom-made in the gift shop down the hills from the temple, I headcanon the Xiaolin temple mountain is located in a national site seeing tourists spots and has a nice little town 3 hours walk from it. Or Master Fung’s master has it made for him.

This is a pretty long answer thank you for reading all this.

[btsficsandsuch]

I’m still working on requests but I had this idea for a Ghost Yoongi fic and since it’s getting close to Halloween I thought it was a good time to work on it.

This is probably the longest piece I’ve ever written at about 10,500 words and it’s the first time something I worked on actually made be tear up as I was writing it.

I hope you like it as much as I do!

One Last Dance

Summary: After moving into your new house you’re informed about a potential haunting. However, what you find is not the demonic ghost everyone claims to know.

Warning: Swearing, Mentions Death/Murder. Angst, Fluff, Crack

“Alright guys, we’re here!”, your dad said pulling up to what is to be your new family home. When he announced to you and your mom that he had been promoted you were ecstatic and so proud of him. Then you found out that this promotion required him to move to the other side of the country which also meant you were leaving behind your friends and your school and everything you’ve known for your whole life. You were still proud of your dad but you had to admit that you weren’t quite as excited as before.

Getting out of the car you walked over to stand next to your mom who was admiring the house while your dad went to have a chat with the movers who had just pulled up behind you. “I think it’s beautiful Y/N. We can plant a few rose bushes over there and maybe once we get settled we can paint the shutters. It’ll be a nice home.”, she happily said while making mental notes of everything that needed done. “Oh I think that’s the window to your room. Your dad thought you’d like to have the whole third floor all to yourself. He said you can even paint it whatever color you’d like.”, she said pointing up towards the sky.

A whole floor to yourself would be nice. It was much more space than the little bedroom you had in the tiny apartment you guys were previously living in. You also weren’t allowed to paint or hang anything on the walls due to your dads fear of not getting his security deposit back so being able to express yourself sounded interesting.

Looking up at the third floor window you felt your mouth go dry and your heart rate increase. You squinted trying to get past the rays of the sun to see better. “Ready to go inside honey?”, your mom asked. You nodded,” Yeah umm is the house empty already?”, you asked before grabbing a few bags out of the trunk. “Yeah, according to the relator it’s been empty for about three years. Why do you ask?” Looking back at the window the figure you swore you saw staring down at you moments ago was no longer there. Must’ve been a shadow you thought. “No reason. Just asking.”

Once inside you were pleasantly surprised. For a house that had been empty for the last three years it was surprisingly well kept. There wasn’t any dust and the air smelled clean, almost like the windows had been regularly opened to let fresh air in. It took a few hours but the movers finally got everything moved into the house. Unfortunately their job was only to bring the stuff off the truck and put it in the house. They didn’t organize anything and they definitely didn’t take any of your stuff up to the third floor which meant it was all up to you. Thankfully your cousins Jimin and Taehyung were there to help. Taehyung made the trip with you guys after your dad offered to pay him for his time and then even pay for his flight back home and your cousin Jimin only lived 15 minutes away so he made the drive over.

“Jesus Y/N, how many boxes of clothes do you need?”, Jimin asked dropping the third box down on the floor of your room. You chuckled, “It’s not that bad. Stop being a baby.” “Where do you want this stuff?”, Taehyhung asked walking in the room. You looked at the writing on the box ‘Y/N’s music recording stuff’ and said, “Umm just put it in that corner over there.”

After a few more trips everything that was labeled with your name was placed in your room. “Want us to help unpack?”, Jimin asked taking a sip of a water bottle. You shook your head, “No I’ve got this. It’ll take awhile to go through everything.” At that time you heard your dad shouting for the three of you to come to the kitchen because the pizza arrived. Your two cousins were sprinting down the stairs before you could even speak so you turned off the light before shutting the door behind you.

After dinner you said goodbye to Taehyung and your dad drove him to the airport while Jimin hung out a little longer. “I can’t believe your parents actually bought this house. Must be pretty brave.”, he said. You furrowed your brows, “Why do you say that? It seems like an okay house. I mean our entire apartment could fit in the living room of this place.” Jimin smiled, “I guess you didn’t do your research on this house before moving in.” You asked, “Is there a point to you telling me this?” “Well yeah, this house is haunted.” Rolling your eyes you chuckled at his ridiculousness. He continued anyways, “Years ago a family lived here. The Min’s. They died in the house and it’s been haunted by their son ever since. That’s why no one has bought the house all this time.” Jimin had always tried to scare you ever since you were little. He knew you were kind of gullible and for some reason he got joy in getting under your skin but you weren’t going to fall for it this time. You sighed at his half hearted attempt, “Seriously Jimin fuck off. I’m not falling for that crap. You’re just trying to scare me. Besides the relator is legally obligated to tell us of any deaths in this house and plus if the whole family died here why would it only be haunted by the son?”

Jimin laughed at your response, “In this state the relator is only legally required to say anything about a death in the house for two years after it happens. We’re already past that. And the rumor is the parents made peace with what happened and they were able to move on. Their son not so much.” Now you were laughing at his crazy story but Jimin didn’t laugh with you like you expected. “Seriously Y/N think about it. A giant gorgeous house like this in a really good neighborhood being sold for significantly under its market value and no one actually makes an offer on it in almost three years. Seems a little fishy to me?”, he says. Biting your lip you try your best to not let him know you’re starting to question it. Then you think back to when you first got there and you swore you saw someone standing in your window. Playfully you punch his shoulder, “Get lost Jimin. Don’t you have somehwere to be?” He laughs before standing up and heading towards the door, “You’re right I should get going. But think about it Y/N. Don’t let them drag you down in the basement. You remember what happened in that one movie don’t you?”

Now you were slightly annoyed but you would never let him know that. You walked him to the front door where your parents came to say goodbye and told him to stop by any time. “Oh we’ll see about that.”, he said while looking at you with a smirk and heading out to his car. You wished your parents goodnight before heading up to the third floor. Once in your room you began unboxing some stuff wanting to get a big chunk of it done tonight. You moved some of your clothes to the closet and that’s when you noticed something odd. One of the boxes that had your music equipment in it had been opened and some of the contents were taken out of the bubble wrap. You thought it was strange because you remembered specifically making sure those boxes were taped very well and that everything inside was wrapped up tightly so nothing got damaged. You shrugged it off thinking that the box probably came apart when Taehyung dropped it down on the floor and got back to unloading your clothes.

Finally after getting the last box emptied you laid on your bed exhausted. You started to think that maybe Jimin was right and you had way too many clothes so you made a mental note to go through them and get a donation pile going. Speaking of Jimin his little story was starting to get to you. What if he wasn’t making up a complete bullshit story to scare you? What if the house was haunted? You shook the thought out of your head and got under the covers feeling a slight chill. With the warmth of your bed it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep only waking in the morning when you heard your mom knocking on your door.

“Y/N, your dad and I are gonna go up to the hardware store to get a few things. Did you want to come along?”, she asked. Not even fully coherent yet you mumbled something and your mom knew that meant no so she smiled, “Okay well I made breakfast. I left a plate for you in the kitchen.”, and off she went. After you finally woke up enough to not be a zombie you changed into some new clothes and made your way downstairs to look for the breakfast she had left.

As you were half way down the stairs you heard a loud bang coming from the kitchen. Quickening your step you ran into the kitchen and found the coffee pot on the floor with spilled coffee all around. You figured your dad must’ve left it sitting on the edge of the counter and it simply tipped over. He was always forgetful like that. After cleaning up the mess you poured yourself a cup of orange juice and sat down to eat some of the sausage and eggs when you felt your phone vibrate next to you. Checking the screen you saw a text from Jimin,

Chimchim: How was last night? Any ghostly activity?”

You: Don’t you have better things to do?

Chimchim: Maybe you should have Ghostbusters on speed dial ;)

Rolling your eyes you placed your phone back in your pocket before cleaning up after yourself. To be honest you had forgotten all about his little ghost story and you intended to keep it that way. Once back upstairs you started unpacking more of your belongings. You unpacked your laptop and that’s when curiosity got the best of you and you thought maybe doing a quick internet search about your house and it’s past might not be so bad. After the computer finally powered up and connected to the internet you pulled up a search bar and began typing ‘1613 Cherry Lane Min Family’. Before you could hit search the computer completely freaked out and shut all the way down. You tried hitting the power button and plugging in the charger but nothing was working. It was dead and you were pissed. “Stupid computer. You’re less than 6 months old.”, you said slamming it closed.

At that time your parents came home so you went downstairs to greet them and tell them the bad news about your laptop. The rest of the day was spent unpacking as much of your stuff as you could. You wanted to get it done so that it was one less thing to stress about, especially since you were starting at your new school in the morning.

Thankfully your night was uneventful and you managed to get as much sleep as your nerves would allow. You ate a quick breakfast before saying goodbye to your parents and headed out the door. Jimin was waiting for you in his car. Luckily he went to the same school that you’d be attending and agreed to drive you to and from.

You were walking through the hallways standing close to Jimin when you heard a group of guys calling his name and you saw four guys running up to you both. Jimin smiled, “Y/N these are my friends, Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, and Jungkook. Guys this is my cousin Y/N. She just moved here. Be nice.” The boys all smiled and then Jungkook caught your attention with how wide his eyes got. “You’re the one that moved into the Cherry Lane house aren’t you? Is it really haunted?”, he asked. Jin continued, “Yeah I heard it’s haunted by the son Yoongi. I heard he’s really mean and scares off anyone that comes in the house.” Namjoon shook his head, “He wouldn’t. I was friends with Yoongi. He was really quiet and shy but very nice. It’s a shame what happened to him.”

Before you could question them the bell rang signaling that it was time to get to your first period. Thankfully the classroom wasn’t too far away because you couldn’t shake the conversation you had from your head. So there really was a Min family and maybe Jimin’s story wasn’t complete BS after all but you still didn’t believe in ghosts.

During your lunch period you couldn’t take it any more and went to the schools library so you could have access to a computer. Not having a lot of time you quickly got down to business and began searching ‘1613 Cherry Lane Min Family’ and luckily this time the computer didn’t short out. Clicking on the first article you came to you gasped when you began reading,

“On Thursday November 14th at approximately 9:35pm police were dispatched to the house at 1613 Cherry Lane after concerned neighbors reported hearing lots of shouting and a possible gunshot. When police arrived they found the back door had been kicked in and various items through the house destroyed and/or missing. The bodies of the Min family were located upstairs. It appears to have been a robbery gone wrong. Anyone with any information is requested to please contact the police department as soon as possible.”

With shaking hands you backed out of that article and clicked on the next. It basically said the same thing as the first but this time there was a picture of the family. Your eyes were trained on the son who from the caption you figured must be Yoongi. Based on his age at the time of the article he would be about your age now. He was strikingly handsome with a big gummy smile and the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen.

Before you could dig any deeper the bell rang signaling it was time for your next class so you shut down the computer and made your way to your biology class. Not only did you hate science to begin with but now you were focused on the newly obtained information about your house. Just because someone died in the house doesn’t mean it’s haunted. Right?

You were glad you only had one more class left and that was a study hall. It gave you time to get caught up on homework and stuff but also more time to think. When you walked into the room you heard someone shout your name and you looked over and saw Namjoon and Jungkook sitting together. Happily you made your way over and took a seat next to them. “Liking your first day here Y/N?,” Namjoon asked. You nodded, “Yeah everyone’s really nice.” The teacher took attendance and then let everyone get to work. “So Y/N, any idea what college you plan to go to next year?”, Namjoon asked. Shaking your head, “Not yet. I’ve still got so much to figure out. This move really messed up my plans.” Jungkook looked over, “Oh yeah so Y/N, anything interesting happen in that house?” Namjoon cleared his throat trying to distract from the question but you spoke, “It’s okay Namjoon. There were a couple weird things but they all have logical explanations so not really I guess. Are the stories about the house really that bad?”

Jungkook looked like a kid in a candy store. You could tell he’s been waiting to talk to you about it all day. “There’s a rumor that someone moved in and only last three hours before they got too scared and left. Said there was a demonic ghost that tormented them.”, he huffed. “Well nothing has been tormenting us and we’ve been there for a few days already.”, you replied. A girl in the seat behind you leaned in and joined the conversation, “Oh are you guys talking about the Cherry Lane house? I heard from my sister’s boyfriend that he broke in one time to try and see if the rumors were true and let’s just say he was never quite the same after that. He won’t talk about it but he refuses to even drive down Cherry Lane. He makes my sister drive ten minutes out of the way to take him home.” Another girl chimed in, “Yeah I heard Yoongi is a real jerk. He doesn’t want anyone living in that house so he scares everyone away. Something about not wanting people to forget what happened to him and his family or something like that.”

Your last period went by pretty quick, especially with all the gossip about your house. Jimin gave you a ride home and you thanked him before making your way back in the house. Your dad was at work and your mom had started her new job as a nurse at the local hospital so you were home alone for the next few hours. Happy to have peace you decided to try and clean up your room a little. Admittedly you were messy and had just left clothes thrown about and your plate from breakfast was still on your dresser. But when you opened your door you were shocked to see a clean and organized room. The clothes that had been thrown around the room were now neatly folded on your bed and there were no dishes to be seen. That’s odd you thought but figured your mom probably cleaned up before she left so you mentally prepared yourself for a lecture when she got home later about cleaning up after yourself.

The next few days went by as normal. Nothing odd happened and you were getting the hang of your classes. But each day you found yourself thinking about Yoongi. Wondering if he really is haunting your house. Wondering if you were going crazy for even thinking about that. When Friday came around and you made it to you last period study hall you took your usual seat next to Namjoon thankful that Jungkook appeared to be absent today. “Hi Y/N, ready for the weekend?”, he asked. Smiling you replied, “Of course!” The teacher took attendance and then like usual let everyone get started on their tasks. You kept looking over at Namjoon before finally working up the courage to ask, “Hey Joon, you said that you used to be friends with Yoongi right? I’m just wondering what he was like.” He bit his lip trying to make sure he thought out a proper response, “Well like I said he was pretty shy and quiet. He didn’t have a ton of friends. He was a little cocky but still thoughtful and caring. He was a caffeine addict, always had a cup of coffee. He was a clean freak too. He was constantly cleaning and organizing. That’s why he hated coming over to my house because my room is such a disaster.” He let out a small chuckle before continuing, “Yoongi was a huge basketball fan. He was always playing or watching it. He also really loved music. He wanted to be a music producer one day. He was pretty talented too. It sucks he never got to achieve that dream.”

“Wow yeah that is terrible.”, was all you could get out somewhat regretting that you asked. On the drive home you kept repeating Namjoon’s words in your head. Then it hit you. The box with your music recording equipment was opened, the coffee pot on the ground with spilled coffee everywhere, your room being cleaned and organized after you left it a mess. You felt like you were suffocating and quickly rolled down the passenger window trying to get some air. “Whoa Y/N are you okay? You don’t look so good.”, Jimin asked. Shaking your head was all you could do so Jimin sped up a little wanting to get you home before you vomited all over the interior of his car.

After you got into your house you were suddenly creeped out by the quietness. Was Yoongi really haunting this house? No, ghosts aren’t real. But how do you explain everything that happened? You felt another panic attack coming on so you were trying to run to the kitchen to get a glass of water but tripped over your untied shoe lace falling forward and hitting your head on the cabinet in front of you.

When you woke up an hour later you were in your bed with an ice pack bandaged to your head and a raging headache. Remembering how you tripped and fell you figured your parents must’ve come home and found you and put you in bed and not wanting to worry them you walked downstairs to let them know you were okay. But you were met with complete silence. No tv on, no dinner cooking. That’s odd. Then you heard your phone ding and saw a text from your father,

Dad-a-roo: Sorry Y/N, I’m gonna be staying late tonight. Go ahead and order yourself some food.

Okay that’s weird but maybe your mom came home and then left for some reason. Then you saw the text from her from a few hours ago,

Mommy Dearest: Y/N sweetie I’m absolutely swamped here so I picked up an extra shift and won’t be home until late at night. There’s some left overs in the fridge or order yourself something good. Don’t watch the next episode of our show without me!

Alright so neither of your parents came home so they weren’t the ones that put you in your bed. You stood there racking your brain and then it hit you, Jimin! Quickly you typed up a text message to send to him,

You: Hey Chim, thank you for helping me get into my bed. I must’ve been really sick to pass out like that. But why didn’t you stay to comfort me?:(

Chimchim: Umm Y/N, it’s only 6:00pm. Maybe lay off the drinking for a while. I haven’t been at your house since I dropped you off and I didn’t even go inside.

Immediately you felt like you were going to pass out again. So no logical explications can explain how you ended up in your bed and the more you thought about it the more your head began to spin and then the room went dark.

You woke up once again in bed, this time you looked over and saw someone sitting in the corner of your room. Panic set in. Should you pretend to be asleep? Should you scream for help? What kind of a person breaks into a house and helps you get in bed?

Before you could decided what to do the person looked up and set down the magazine he was reading, “Do you normally pass out a lot? Because if you do I’d appreciate it if you’d do it on the third floor so I don’t have to carry you up all those stairs.” You wanted to scream but no sound came out. This must be a dream. Yes, this is definitely a dream you thought. You looked back over at the man in the corner and you noticed how breathtakingly beautiful he was. He continued to stare back at you while you stared at him. “Umm a thank you would be nice.”, he said with an attitude. “Who are you?”, was all you could manage to whisper. He smirked, “You and I both know that you know that answer. My name is Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

Laughing to yourself you quipped, “Okay now I know I’m definitely dreaming. That’s the last time I eat pepperoni pizza that close to bedtime. Every time it gives me nightmares.” Yoongi walked over to you and sat on the bed, “It’s not a nightmare and this is real.” He grabbed your hand, you could feel him. His hand was ice cold but you could still hold him. You felt like you got smacked in the face and you began to scream, kicking at the blankets trying to get them off of you so you could get away. “Shhh shh Y/N, do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood? I’m not going to hurt you.”, he whispered. “Really how do I know that? From what I’ve been told you’re pretty awful.”, you asked. He lightly chuckled to himself, “Y/N, if I was planning on hurting you would I have carried up to bed and tucked you in, twice might I add? But I’m glad I have such a reputation.” Trying to process everything you stared at the person in front of you. “So you’re really Yoongi? And you’re a ghost?”, you asked. He smiled, “Yep all of the above.”

“So were you the one that opened up my music equipment and spilled the coffee and cleaned my room?”, you asked. Yoongi nodded, “Yeah sorry about your equipment. I got excited when I saw it. And that morning I heard you coming down the stairs and was nervous you’d see me so I panicked and missed the counter when putting the coffee pot back. And you are so messy. I don’t know how you live like that so I had to clean up after you.” Curious you asked, “So if you can hide yourself from people why didn’t you just do it that morning instead of panicking and dropping the coffee pot?” He shrugged his shoulders, “Honestly sometimes I just forget.” You chuckled a little at his honesty but then remembered that you were talking to an actual ghost. “So you really don’t want to hurt me? Why have I heard so many stories about you chasing people out of here?”, you asked unsure if you wanted to really know the answer.

Yoongi sighed, “Usually I scare people out of here because they just want to be here because of the history. They’re always into ghost stories or trying to conjure up spirits or some shit like that and I find it disrespectful so if they come here looking for ghosts I make sure to give them what they want. But you and your family don’t seem to be like that so I didn’t feel like I had to chase you away. At least not yet. So no I’m not here to hurt you.”

You nod taking it all in. You weren’t really sure what to say next. “Umm I’m sorry about what happened to you and your family.”, you said immediately cringing. “Since you wanted to be a music producer I could show you my equipment.”, you said trying to change the subject. Yoongi looked over at you through slanted eyes, “How do you know so much about me?”

You giggled, “Well I googled some things but I go to school with one of your old friends Namjoon. He told me a lot about you.” The name of his old friend brought a smile to Yoongi’s face, “Oh Namjoon. How is he doing? I’m surprised he hasn’t done something to get himself killed. He was always so unbelievably clumsy.” You laughed, “Yeah he still is. He’s really good. He was just voted class president.” Yoongi nodded along, “Have you met someone named Hoseok? How is he doing?” You nodded and told him all the updates you could think of. The two of you talked for a while but the whole time you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to wake up any minute and realize this was all just a dream.

At some point you fell asleep because you woke up the next day tucked in bed and still with a major headache. You scanned the room and noticed you were alone. “Of course. It was all a dream. Just like you thought.”, you said out loud. “How many times do I have to tell you it wasn’t a dream?”, a deep voice said from behind you causing you to jump and spin around coming face to face with Yoongi. “Okay not a dream. I’m really talking to a ghost right now. Maybe I’m just loosing my mind.”, you said getting a smirk from him. Hearing your mom call you down for breakfast you grabbed some clothes and we’re about get changed when you suddenly peaked around but didn’t see Yoongi anywhere. Still unsure you grabbed your clothes and went to the bathroom to get changed. When you got back to your room you saw Yoongi sitting in the chair laughing, “You know if I really wanted to see you naked I could just walk into the bathroom with you right?” You cringed at the thought as he continued, “But don’t worry. I’m not a dirtbag like that. I respect you and always make sure I disappear and go elsewhere when you get undressed.” “Unless you want me here”., he said raising his eyebrows. “No thanks.”, you replied rolling your eyes. Hearing your mom call you again you began making your way to the door before turning around, “So umm you’re my first ghost roommate. Do you want me to bring you some food or do you even eat? Maybe a cup of coffee?” Yoongi smiled at your thoughtfulness, “No thank you. I’m alright for now.” Quickly you turned and ran downstairs before your mother had to call you a third time.

After breakfast you made your way back upstairs but not before grabbing a mug of coffee to bring with you. Even though he said he wasn’t going to hurt you, you still wanted him on your good side. But the room was empty. Setting the mug on the table you said, “I know you said you didn’t want anything but I brought you a cup of coffee.” Honestly you felt silly just talking to an empty room but you started to feel a presence and turning around you saw Yoongi standing in the corner. You chuckled, “Okay how about not acting creepy like that? You can just hang out here. You don’t have to keep disappearing and reappearing.” He began to smirk but you shut him down fast, “Except for when I’m changing.” “Thank you for the coffee.”, he mumbled while taking the cup from you. Awkwardly you stood there staring at each other until you broke the silence, “So did you have any plans today?” He chuckled, “Well I’m a ghost so probably just ghost things ya know.” Internally groaning at your awkwardness you replied,”Right makes sense.”

Thankfully Yoongi was a little more charismatic as he sat down in front of your music equipment turning to look at you, “How do you use this stuff? I never really had the opportunity to get this involved in it.” You spent the next few hours giving him a crash course on music production and he told you how he had dreams of being a music producer but his parents severely disapproved so he had no support and wasn’t able to spend much time on it so what little time he did have he spent secretly writing lyrics. He had just gotten a part time job at a local recording studio doing admin things right before the murder. “It was a crappy job at a no name recording studio but at least it was getting my foot in the door but oh well. None of that matters any more.”, he said and you could feel your heart breaking for him. He looked so small and dejected at the reminder of what could have been.

Sunday was spent pretty much the same, just the two of you talking. You told him about your life back home and how you had to move across the country. He didn’t say much but he was attentively listening. When Monday morning came around you were a little sad to have to leave him for the day. Walking into the kitchen you found Yoongi standing at the counter sipping on a cup of coffee. “Why are you so pouty?”, he asked before handing you a plate of waffles. “I’m just sad. We had such a nice weekend and I don’t want you to be lonely while I’m gone.” He chuckled at your answer, “Y/N, I’ve been alone for the last couple years. I think I can manage the next eight hours.” You heard a honk coming from outside signaling that Jimin was there to pick you up so after placing your dish in the sink you grabbed your bag and turned to say goodbye and leave but Yoongi stopped you. He handed you a bag, “Here I packed you a lunch. You’re always so hungry when you come home and I know it’s because you don’t eat at school. It’s really important to take care of yourself.” You smiled at his kind gesture and grabbed the bag. Jimin laid on the horn outside which meant he was getting irritated and about four seconds from making you walk to school so you quickly thanked him for the lunch and ran out the door.

Over the next few weeks you and Yoongi fell into a routine. Every morning during the week he made you breakfast and then handed you a lunch and when you got home he’d help you with your homework and then you’d both work on music or watch basketball. On the weekends you talked or created music together. It was really nice and you often found yourself forgetting that your new best friend was a ghost.

Then one morning you woke up cheerful and in a good mood padding down the stairs ready for whatever yummy breakfast Yoongi had prepared for you today, but the kitchen was empty. Coffee had not been made. You thought it was odd but then you reminded yourself that he wasn’t your personal chef and had no obligations to do anything for you. Jimin honked outside so you turned to leave and that’s when you noticed the bag sitting on the counter. So he did still make you lunch. Jimin honked outside again, “Man he gets more impatient every day.”, you thought to yourself. You threw on your coat and headed for the door waving to Jimin to let him know you were coming. “Yoongi I’m leaving. Have a good day.”, you shouted before shutting the door behind you. All morning you couldn’t help but feel like something was off with Yoongi. Again you knew he didn’t have to do anything for you but it was weird that all of a sudden he just stopped.

Sixth period was history class which you didn’t mind. The teacher was a little quirky and made things fun. At the start of every class she did a ‘This Day in History’ contest and whoever had the most interesting fact received five extra credit points. She stood at the front of the class and clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright class today is November 14th. Who has a fun fact for this day in history?”, she spoke. That’s when it hit you. “Oh my god. November 14th! That’s the day Yoongi and his family were murdered.” You felt like you were going to faint again. You had a million thoughts going on in your brain, “Is that why he wasn’t there for breakfast? But he still made you lunch? Is he okay? What can I do for him?” You discreetly texted your mom letting her know that you weren’t feeling well and asking if she could call the school and give permission for you to leave. Thankfully she didn’t protest and let you know she just called the school office. After your history class was over you went to the office and signed out before quickly running home.

Sprinting through the front door you started shouting for Yoongi. Running up the stairs you reached your room panting and out of breath. Even though you were the one that was calling for him it still startled you when he appeared out of nowhere. “Y/N, what are you doing home?”, he asked. You took a long look at his face. His eyes were puffy and swollen. He nose was a light shade of red. He had been crying and from what you could tell he was crying long and hard. “Oh Yoongi, why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve stayed home all day today?”, you asked wrapping your arms around him. Even though he felt cold the hug was comforting. He scoffed, “Nonsense Y/N. Just because today is today doesn’t mean I want you to cater to me. You had a really important math test today. How did it go?” In just the few short months you’ve been with him you’ve grown to know him well enough that you could tell he was trying to change the subject. You pulled him down next to you on the bed, “Yoongi it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be sad and hurt and angry. You don’t have to put up a wall for me.” Your words broke down that wall he had put up and he rested his face in the crook of your neck. His shoulders began to shake with each sob he let go, “I just miss them so much. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They were supposed to grow old and die warm and comfy in their bed. I was supposed to grow up, go to college, get a job, get married and have a family and watch my children grow and one day have grandchildren and grow old with the love of my life.” You didn’t say anything and just let him cry it out. “I was going to be the old cranky man that yelled at the kids to get off my lawn.”, he chuckled.

After a good while and you felt like he had sufficiently mourned the day you lifted his face to look at you, “I’m so sorry that this happened Yoongi. I wish I could take away all of this pain. I know it’s not much and I can’t change it but you’re always going to have me.” He nodded and gave you a weak smile. The two of you laid back in bed and you told him about your math test and how you’re pretty sure you bombed it and he playfully scolded you since he helped you study for a week. At some point you fell asleep listening to him tell you about a song he had been working on and he smiled when he looked over and noticed your sleeping figure leaning on his shoulder. He was glad you were so comfortable around him.

The next morning you woke up tucked away in bed. You smiled knowing that Yoongi was the one that always took care of you. Walking into the kitchen you were once again greeted by Yoongi who handed you a plate of food and pointed to your lunch sitting on the table. His face was still puffy from the events of the day before but you chose to ignore it not wanting to bring up those memories.

The next few weeks quickly went back to normal and you and Yoongi were pretty much inseparable any time you were home. Today was Friday and you were excited because that meant two whole days of spending time with Yoongi. Just before the bell was to ring signaling the end of the day you heard someone clear their throat. “Excited for the weekend Y/N? You’ve been staring at the clock all period.”, Namjoon asks. You smiled, “Yeah it’s been a long week.” He nodded in an agreement. You noticed he was fidgety and looked extremely nervous. “Umm Y/N, I’m just gonna come out and say this and not beat around the bush. Would you go to the winter formal with me? It’s okay if you don’t want to but I thought maybe we could go together, even as just friends?”, he said before letting out a long breath he was holding in. You saw Jungkook snicker behind him. You were torn about what to do. Part of you never wanted to leave the house on the weekend because you didn’t want to miss any time with Yoongi but you had heard that the winter formal was a pretty big thing and you’d never been asked to go to a dance before and Namjoon was kind of cute and so sweet. You hadn’t even realized how long you had been in your own thoughts until you noticed how red Namjoon had turned. He looked mortified. Nodding your head you agreed, “Yeah I’d love to go with you.” He gave you the biggest dimple smile before the bell rang and you let him know you had to leave or Jimin would kill you.

The following weekend was the winter formal. You picked out a dress that you thought was flattering. A floor length dark blue gown with a few embellishments and a slit that went up to your mid thigh. Was it a little risqué for a high school dance, yeah it probably was but you felt good in it. You were standing in your room struggling to put your necklace on when Yoongi walked in. He stood there staring at you in disbelief. You had already told him how you were going to the dance with Namjoon because for some reason you felt like you needed his blessing. He of course didn’t have any issue with it but now that he saw you in that dress he was definitely a tad bit jealous.

“Here let me help you?”, he said reaching out for the necklace. You turned away from him and lifted up your hair so he could place the chain around your neck. Carefully he clasped the two ends together his icy fingers lightly brushed against the back of your neck sending a chill down your spine. He smiled at you in the mirror, “You look beautiful Y/N.” You smiled back, “Thank you Yoongi.” Judging by the loud laughter coming from down stairs you knew Jimin had arrived with his date which also meant Namjoon was here. You turned to Yoongi and were hit with a sudden rush of sadness. Sadness at the fact that Yoongi will never get to experience this. He’ll never go to a dance or go on a date. He’ll never go have dinner with a group of his friends with his girl on his arm. It was enough to make you tear up. He must’ve known why you were crying because he reached up and gently wiped away the loose tears, “Don’t cry. I watched you spend hours on this makeup and it looks too nice to ruin. Don’t worry about me Y/N. Go have fun with Namjoon. You both deserve it.” You got an idea and not wanting to leave him like this you walked over to your stereo and picked out a perfect song. The melody started playing through the speakers and you walked over to Yoongi taking his hand and leading him to the center of the room, “Dance with me.” He chuckled at your cheesiness but he didn’t protest quickly placing a hand on your waist and slowly moving you around the room. When the song came to an end he smiled down at you and you up at him. Slowly the two of you leaned into each other lips getting closer and closer before he quickly pulled away. “Uhh thank you for the dance. It was nice. You should probably go though. I bet Namjoon is waiting for you.”, he said shyly rubbing the back of his neck. You nodded and grabbed your coat before heading downstairs.

Namjoon greeted you with a smile and a bouquet of flowers that you graciously accepted. Your mom started ushering all of you in front of the fire place to take photos. Yoongi sat at the top of the stairs just out of view but he watched you closely. He wanted to be the one with his hand around your waist while your mom took an embarrassing amount of photos. He wanted to be the one that got an awkward lecture from your dad about keeping his hands to himself. He wanted to take you out to an overpriced restaurant that served you microwaved food they claimed was freshly made. He wanted to dance the night away with you before he leaned in for a kiss just before the end of the dance. He wanted all of this but he knew it could never happen and for your sake he’d make sure you never found out. Hearing that everyone was moving towards the door he decided to leave before he was seen. He quickly wiped away the few tears that had fallen before returning back to your room.

The dance was as magical as you had heard but you couldn’t get Yoongi out of your head and it made you feel guilty for not giving Namjoon your full attention. Luckily he didn’t seem to notice and the night went by in a flash.

A few weeks go by and you and Yoongi get even closer. After the dance you shared that night something changed between you two. You realized that you had feelings for him. You told yourself that was crazy since he’s a ghost but the more you thought about it the more you didn’t care. It was working now so why couldn’t it work in the future?

The two of you celebrated Christmas together. You got him a new sweater and beanie after you noticed his were becoming worn. He wrote you a song that you thought was absolutely beautiful. New years came and went. You found out his birthday from Namjoon so you baked him a cake and decorated your room with balloons, having to lie to your parents by telling them it was all for a school project you were working on (somehow they bought that). Things were going really well.

Yoongi at some point also realized that his feelings were growing stronger. He however knew that this would never work in actuality. You were from two different worlds and because of that he tried his best to hide his feelings. He even encouraged you to date Namjoon. You eventually gave in but it only lasted a few months before you decided to end things because you realized you wanted to spend more time with the ghost in your house than your actual boyfriend.

You never imagined your life could get any better than it was. That was until a warm evening in June when everything came crashing down. You had just graduated from high school a few days before and now that you had a moment you were showing Yoongi all of the photos and videos that you had taken at the ceremony. “I’m really proud of you Y/N.”, he smiled. Resting your head on his shoulder you whispered a quiet, “Thank you.” The room fell silent before Yoongi cleared his throat “So when do you leave for college?” You cringed at the question. When you were initially looking at colleges you decided on one back on the other side of the country closer to your hometown. It was a really good school and had a great music production program. At the time your feelings for Yoongi weren’t as strong so you didn’t mind leaving but now the thought of leaving him and moving to the other side of the country makes you physically sick. “Umm actually I don’t think I’m going.”, you replied. Yoongi chokes on air from shock, “What? No you have to go. It’s a great opportunity Y/N.” You shook your head, “I changed my mind. I’m gonna go to the local community college. It’s twenty minutes away. Then I can stay here with you.” He runs his hand over his face, “But they don’t have a music program. That’s your dream.” Grabbing his hand and pulling him next to you on the bed you smile, “It’s okay. Dreams can change. You’re my dream now. They have a vet tech program. I love animals so I think that will be a good fit for me.” Yoongi tilts your chin up so that you’re looking at him. He goes to say something but you cut him off my taking a chance and leaning in and kissing him. Even though his lips are cold you feel a warmth spread through your body that only intensifies when he deepens the kiss. Gently you reach up to caress his cheek but that’s when he snaps back to reality.

Yoongi recoils back like he was just bit by something. He steps back running his hands through his hair, “No Y/N, I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you ruin your life.” You can feel the tears soaking your shirt, “You don’t get to make that decision for me. I love you Yoongi and I want to stay here with you. We can make this work.” He scoffs, “This can’t work Y/N. I’m dead. I’m a ghost. I can’t support you. We can’t buy a house or get married. We could never have kids. I can’t even taken you on a proper date. I can’t give you any of the things you deserve.”

Reaching out for him you reply, “I don’t care about any of that Yoongi. I just want you.” You expect him to embrace you but instead he steps farther away, “No Y/N. I’m won’t let you ruin your life. You have goals and dreams to achieve and I won’t be the reason that you get stuck here too.” Before you could say anything else he walks out without looking back.

You spend the summer trying to get Yoongi to show himself. You leave cups of coffee in your room that all go untouched. You even let your room turn into a disastrous mess hoping he’d get annoyed and clean up but the mess just gets to the point that even you can’t take it any more and clean yourself.

It’s late August and you just taped up the last box handing it to your dad and telling him you’d be down in a little bit as you just wanted a few minutes alone in your room to make sure nothing was missing. He nodded and told you to take your time. You sat down on the bed staring around the room and thinking back to all the memories. You looked over and saw your music equipment still sat out. Even though it was going to be expensive to buy a whole new set up you wanted to leave that for Yoongi to have in case he got bored. Sighing you tried to steady your voice before speaking, “Well Yoongi I’m leaving for college now. I’ll be on the other side of the country so I don’t know when I’ll be back to visit. It would be really nice to see you before I go.” You sat in silence for a while but nothing happened.

Sighing even deeper this time you grabbed your purse slinging it over your shoulder, “Alright well take care of yourself Yoongi. Please also take care of my parents if you can. I hope you can be happy Yoongi. I love you.” Taking one last look back you shut the door behind you closing that chapter of your life.

10 Years Later…

“Alright Mae go say hi to grandma and grandpa.”, you told your young daughter who excitedly ran through the house looking for her grandparents. You felt a strange sensation stepping foot into your old house. You hadn’t been back since you left for college, always making an excuse why you couldn’t come home or convincing your parents to come visit you instead. The thought of possibly facing Yoongi always made your chest ache, if he’d even show himself. But something happened recently and it encouraged you to want to come see him, or at least try.

You and your daughter ate a lovely dinner with your parents before you excused yourself saying that you wanted to check your room for an old sweatshirt. Giving your daughter a kiss on the head you told her to keep her grandparents entertained while you made your way up to the third floor room.

Stepping inside you were hit with a wave of emotions. Everything was still clean and organized. The familiar smell of lemon hit your nostrils. You sat on the bed unsure of what to do next. You knew that Yoongi had been around over the years. You thought back to the time your mom called to tell you how the strangest thing happened where she tripped going down the stairs but instead of falling forwards something grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She said it was probably just your dad even though he fully denied it but you knew it was Yoongi looking out for her. Or the time your dad called you frantically after a battery caught fire in the garage in the middle of the night while they were sleeping. Luckily there wasn’t a ton of damage and nobody was hurt but the fire department couldn’t figure out how someone had used a fire extinguisher to put out the flames when both of your parents claimed to be asleep. They chucked it up to an intruder but you knew who really put out the flames that night and potentially saved your parents lives.

Staring at the floor in front of you deep in thought you were snapped out if it when you felt the bed dip next to you. Looking over you saw a smiling Yoongi staring at you. He still looked the same even after all this time. Excitedly you wrapped your arms around his neck, “I missed you so much.” You felt him smile against your skin, “I missed you too Y/N.” The two of you sat in silence for a while before Yoongi spoke up, “You’re daughter is adorable. She looks just like a tiny Namjoon in a wig.” You chuckled, “Yeah Namjoon and I reconnected after college and ended up getting married and having Mae.” He nodded, “What’s that big guy up to?” “He’s a curator at one of the biggest museums in LA.”, you responded. “And you?”, he asked. Smiling you replied, “I’m a music producer.” Yoongi grinned, “I know. I’ve been listening to all the music you work on. I just wanted to hear you say it.” Playfully you pushed his shoulder away from you.

“So why did you come back after all these years?”, he asked clearing his throat. “Well I saw something on the news a couple weeks ago and I wanted to know if you saw it too.”, you said. Yoongi bit his bottom lip before falling into a smile, “I did. I’ll never forget that day.” He pulled out a newspaper article and handed it over to you. Reading over the words again you couldn’t hide the smile that crept up on your lips,

“On July 22nd officers made an arrest in the case. Soobin Park admitted to murdering the Min Family after they woke up while he was attempting a robbery of their home on Cherry Lane. Fearing that his identity had been compromised he committed the murders to protect himself. Mr. Park is also being charged in connection with six other robberies in the area over the last fifteen years. For the Min family murders he has been sentenced to 75 years to life in prison without the possibility of parole.”

You handed the paper back to Yoongi and watched as he gently put it back in his pocket. “I’m so happy for you Yoongi. This is what you’ve been waiting for and I’m glad you and your family finally got Justice.” He smiled, “Yeah me too.” You fell back into a comfortable silence until you broke it. “You know I have a lot of connections in the music industry now. I thought maybe we could work together.”

Yoongi gave you a shy smile before walking over to your closet retrieving a notebook and walking back over to hand it to you. “This is my lyric book. I’ve got dozens maybe even hundreds of songs and ideas in here. I want you to have it. Use it for inspiration. Claim the songs as your own.”, he said placing the book in your hands. Flipping through the pages your brows furrowed in confusion, “Why would I claim it as my own? I can still give you credit without you having to be in the spotlight. You deserve the recognition. I can even get the money transferred to you.” Yoongi shook his head, “I won’t need the money Y/N. I want you to have it.” Looking over to him you saw the light in his eyes and knew what he meant. He continued, “Now that I know that my family got justice and I now know that you’re happy and well taken care of I feel like I can finally move on. I can move on and be at peace with my parents. I told them that one day when justice is served I’d join them and that say has come.”

You felt a familiar burning sensation in your eyes. Yoongi chuckled and reached up to wipe away the tears, “Hey don’t cry Y/N. This is a good thing. I’m finally happy and you can finally move on knowing that I’m okay.” Leaning into his touch you whispered, “But how will I know that you really are okay?” “Trust me. You’ll know.”, he smiled before standing up and walking over to the stereo.

You watched him carefully choose a song and he turned around before flashing you the gummy smile you missed so much. A familiar melody began to play through the speakers and you thought back to that day you danced with him before your winter formal. He walked over and held out his hand, “May I have one last dance?”

Nodding your head you took his hand and slowly began to twirl around the room. “Namjoon will kill me if he ever finds out about this?”, he chuckled. “Well luckily you’re already dead right?”, you laughed. The song ended and you walked back over to the bed grabbing the notebook. You could hear Mae downstairs getting antsy so you knew you were running out of time.

Yoongi reached out and gave you one more hug but instead of the usual coldness he felt strangely warm. “Take care of yourself Y/N. Thank you for everything.”, he whispered in your ear. You nodded trying to choke back the tears before walking towards the door. Turning back for one more look you saw him sitting on the bed. He looked up and smiled giving you a shy wave before you turned back around and closed the door behind you. You stood with your hand on the door knob for a few moments unable to make your feet move down the stairs. Deciding you needed one more hug. You couldn’t just leave like that. You swung open the door ready to run back into his arms but the room was empty. He was already gone.

Doing your best to compose yourself you went back downstairs greeting Mae who was already waiting by the door. When your parents questioned your sad disposition you gave some lie about seeing old photos and it bringing back memories. You and Mae bid your parents goodbye and got in your car before driving off thinking it was finally the end.

5 More Years Later…

It’s funny how things work out. Sitting in the drive way staring up at the third floor window of your parents house just like you did all those years ago brought back such a wave of emotions. A lot had happened in the five years since you and Yoongi officially said goodbye. You opened your open record labeled titled MYG records. You used a lot of the lyrics Yoongi had written in that notebook even winning a Grammy for one of the songs, a song you were pretty sure was written about you as he titled it ‘Dancing Before the Formal.’

Now you were sitting in the driveway of your old home waiting for the relator so you could hand off the keys. After both of your parents passed away you decided to put the house on the market. Instantly you received a bunch of offers. The highest offer you received was from a paranormal hunting group who wanted to use the house as a headquarters thanks to its history and rumored haunting. You shut that down immediately much to the dismay of Namjoon who didn’t understand why you accepted the much lower offer from a family of four who told you how it was their dream house to watch their children grow in.

When the relator finally arrived you handed over the keys and thanked them for all their hard work surrounding the sale. Getting back in your car you took one last look up at that third floor window thinking back to that boy who made you fall in love for the first time all those years ago.

That night you had a dream. A dream that you were back in that same third floor bedroom. Yoongi came to visit you. He congratulated you on your Grammy. He let you know that your parents were doing well. He told you how he told his parents all about you and they asked a million questions just like parents do. He told you that he was finally at peace and was able to rest. He gave you a hug and started walking towards the door but stopped just shy of the frame. He turned around and smiled, “I do love you Y/N. I always did. If things were different maybe we would’ve worked out. I’m happy though. I know deep down you are too.” With that he turned and walked out the door with it shutting behind him. When you woke up you felt strangely euphoric. It was a weird feeling you’d never had before. Then you remembered his words he spoke to you all those years ago, “Trust me. You’ll know.” Laying back down you smiled to yourself knowing that Yoongi was finally truly happy and at peace and that was his way of telling you. Feeling Namjoon stir next to you in the bed you slid over and rested your head on his chest letting his arm pull you in closer. You snuggled deeper into him letting the sound of his heartbeat slowly lull you back to sleep finally feeling at peace yourself.

[illarian-rambling]

I've been cooking this in my brain for a while (thanks for the inspiration btw @mk-writes-stuff) and I think it'd be fun to do an Illaros themed ask game, so here goes!

🌠Illari Themed Asks🌠

Questions about characters:

Izjik - How does this character fight? Do they have a particular style of combat, or do they avoid violence altogether?

Sepo - What's something that, without fail, will always make this character angry?

Twenari - Is this character an expert in anything?

Djek - What is the best joke this character knows?

Astra - How self-confident is this character, and how earned is that confidence?

Mashal - Does this character have any major contradictions between facets of their personality?

Ivander - Is this character beholden to a higher power?

Elsind - What genre of stories does this character enjoy?

Avymere - Would you trust this character to run a country?

Faalgun - What gets this character's blood pumping?

Nyda - What did this character want to be when they grew up?

Kaulakri - Does this character plan or improvise? Are they good at it?

Pash - Does this character have a strict moral code? What's a line they won't cross?

Anarac - How does their trauma (I know they have some) affect their mannerisms and behavior?

Questions about the setting:

The Trench - How are criminals punished, and for what crimes?

Seluthena - What is the history of music in this world? How has music changed over time?

Illankas - How many religions are there, and how do they interact?

Unity - Describe a stroll down the street of the largest city in your world.

The Flying City - Have people made it to space yet? What is outer space like in your setting?

Landanium - Are there any diseases unique to this world?

Yewbury - What classes could you find at a college in this world?

Salis - What is the harshest climate people live in here?

Nace - How does organized crime work here? Who is currently on top of the criminal underworld?

Questions for the author (based on things in my writing space):

Playlist - Do you have anything you need in order to focus on writing?

Laptop - By what means do you prefer to write? Computer, phone, handwriting, or something else?

MacKenzie - Give us a picture of your pet if you have one :3

Blanket - What trope are you the best at writing?

Aloe Vera - Are there any skills you have in real life that you've been able to include in your writing? (Ex. chef describing food, martial artist writing fight scenes)

Sketchbook - What do you do to keep yourself inspired when you take a break from writing?

Hope this is fun, maybe? Feel free to send me asks too! I'll put my tag list under the cut :)

And have a bitchin day!

@amandacanwrite @elsie-writes @riveriafalll @kosmic-kore @kaylinalexanderbooks

@bard-coded @carrotsinnovember @patternwelded-quill @somethingclevermahogony @whatwewrotepodcast

@the-angriest-author @mk-writes-stuff @frostedlemonwriter @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @watermeezer

@leahnardo-da-veggie @mr-orion @televisionjester @the-ellia-west @ray-writes-n-shit

@evilgabe29 @trippingpossum @fortunatetragedy @halfbakedspuds