#take heart my friend we love you though it seems like you're alone a million lights above you smile down upon your home.

[everysongineverykey]

shoutout to brian may for constantly coming through with all the Inexpressibly Fucking Melancholy songs we could ever need. long away '39 all dead all dead some day one day leaving home ain't easy... hell even his demos. listen to you know you belong to me and water and tell me you don't feel like ben affleck on bench with cigarette dot png. every band needs one member who is just so sad All the time and Will make it the entire discography's problem and i am so serious

[the-force-awakens]

Two Birds, One Stone

Pairing: poe dameron/f!reader (no pronouns) Rating: explicit Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: smut (18+ only): fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected piv, alcohol consumption (both parties are sober tho), friends to lovers, one night stand (or is it?) A/N: I have no idea why this concept burrowed into my head the way it did or how I ended up almost writing 5k of it but??? here we are.

You glance around the rec room - Snap and Karé making eyes at each other in the corner, Tallie and Paige already making out at another table - then back at Poe who is staring studiously ahead following his unintentional slip up that he's frustrated in a very particular kind of way, and wraps his lips around the bottle of coruscant cooler he bribed Yolo for. 

And it's gotta be the sip you've taken of your drink that makes you blurt, out of the blue, "There's me.”

His entire frame goes carefully rigid, enough so that you almost want to take the words back — almost but not quite. Poe lowers his drink slowly, casting you a skeptical look. "What?”

You shift slightly, giving him a casual shrug. "I said there's me. I'm not under your command, no reason for you to feel guilty. And -” despite the brazen nature of your suggestion, you feel warmth climb up your neck to your face - "it's been a while for me too. Two birds, one stone. Well - one dick, I guess.”

His eyebrows had nearly shot up to his hairline, but they lower now, something shifting in his expression as he studies yours. "You're serious?”

At this, you can't help but feel a little offended and you don't bother disguising that as you reply, "No, I just decided to screw with you about screwing you - yes, I'm being serious.”

He snorts at that, pushes away his bottle and turns in his seat, looking around the room before his gaze lands back on yours, a gentle heat building in his eyes that makes you falter and wonder if you've made a terrible mistake in suggesting this. "You know how many people we're going to hear an 'I told you so' from if they find out?”

You grin, leaning forward and daring to place your hand high on his thigh, enough that Poe's breath audibly hitches. “Do you really care what they have to say if it means getting off tonight?”

"I - uh - nope," he lands on empathically, popping the 'p' as he slides off his bar stool, offering you his hand to help you down off yours. It's sweet and he's done it a million times - but now it makes your heart trip over itself. "You sure about this?”

You are, in the sense that you know you want this. But what you're not so sure about is if it's a good idea, when his sheepish smile and crinkled eyes alone give you butterflies. Knowing his body intimately like you've suggested seems like playing with fire. 

"Yeah. You?” Because he hasn't actually said yet, though you know he wouldn't have budged if he hadn't made his mind up already - if it wasn't a yes, he'd still be at the bar.

"Surer than I've ever been," Poe replies with a crooked grin, squeezing your hand slightly and - yeah. This was a really fucking bad idea.

But you also really don't care.

You wonder if Poe can feel you watching him the entire walk back to his quarters. Nothing about the trek back seems significant yet at the same time incredibly surreal: you know where he keeps his flimsiplast blueprints of classic starfighter models hidden away for safe keeping, the name of that really naughty erotic romance novel he secretly loves even though the ending made him cry, you've curled up in his bed watching horror movies while he used you as a human shield and peering at the screen from behind your shoulder (which you found particularly endearing, considering how daring he is in every other facet of life, and also because it warms you from the inside out that he trusts you to protect him). 

And now you're going to know what it's like to have him spread out against his mattress, flushed and panting underneath you. The thought sends desire zipping down your back so intense that for the first time since leaving the rec room, you drop your eyes away from Poe - something like guilt surfacing over the thick wave of arousal at the fantasy you've conjured. Is it really wrong to think about it when it's about to be a reality?

You're yanked out of your thoughts by the soft beeps of Poe punching in the code to his room - Leia's birthday - and the pneumatic hiss of the door sliding open. His smile is genuine and earnest as he motions you to go in first.

It's surprisingly clean, cleaner than it'd been the night before last when you'd unceremoniously dropped onto his bed complaining about Laszlo being a dick during your shift (though there was never a time when he wasn't a dick) — so you assume Poe must've found the time and energy to tidy this morning before his patrol, or BB-8 did. Speaking of which -

“Where's Bee?” You ask as Poe steps in after you, the door sliding close behind him. Though you don't turn around, you sense him moving closer - slowly, like he's either trying to work out his next move or if he's not sure when you're supposed to begin. 

"He wanted to spend some time with the astromech pool,” Poe answers, giving in and lightly dragging his knuckles down the length of your bare arm, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. "Probably won't be back until later.”

"Lucky,” you breathe, heart rate picking up already because he's never touched you like this before. You were used to being touched by him because Poe was incredibly tactile and affectionate, but those had all been fleeting because despite his touchy nature, Poe didn't linger. 

He's lingering now, though, stepping close enough you can nearly feel his chest against your back. He flexes his hand out, lets his palm slide back up as he replies, "Yeah, luck seems to be going around tonight.”

Ordinarily you'd have rolled your eyes - hell, the temptation to do it is so instinct you nearly do, but it's overpowered by how the sincerity of his voice makes you melt. 

And melting is really not ideal. Neither is the way your traitorous knees already want to buckle just from this, from his close proximity that's still nowhere near close enough to sate you — either of you, really. 

You turn slowly around, breath catching low in your chest as you finally get a glimpse of Poe's face, of the unmasked want darkening his features and his eyes, which unabashedly rake over your frame like he's been waiting for permission to do so for a while. 

The thought that maybe he wants you almost as bad as you want him makes you clench your thighs together, and soothes some of the sting of the thought simmering in the back of your head which is that you want more than one night of this. 

No, that's not quite it either. 

You want this, you want - need - to know what it's like to have him inside you, to hear him moan your name, watch him unravel; you wouldn't take back your offer now and you're sure as hell not going to regret it later, not when Poe is looking down promisingly at you like that.

You want him in every single way you can have a person and it terrifies you because you've never felt like that for anyone — because sex has always just been a bit of fun for you, a way to stop thinking, to feel good. 

But it already feels like so much more than that right now. You feel like by inviting yourself into his bed, you've cracked open your ribcage so that all the love you've been hiding can spill out. 

"Can I kiss you?” Poe asks, deadly serious as he zeroes in on your mouth, before flicking up to meet your eyes - searching for any sign of hesitance. 

"Please.” It comes out breathier and a little more desperate than you meant for, but you don't think you can wait any longer. And it seems like Poe's patience has run out as well, because he surges forward, pulling you flush against him as he cups your face, kisses you hard.

You open your mouth to him, groan when he slides his tongue in, when his blazing hot hand meets bare skin as your shirt lifts up when you go to wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your other hand sliding up his stubbled jaw — it prickles against your palm and you moan again, thinking of what it'd feel like against your thighs.

Poe nudges you forward, keeping you steady as he walks you backwards to his bunk - like you don't already have the layout to his room memorized, you're in it more than your own - and you're struck with three simultaneous realizations at once:

Poe Dameron was as good at kissing as he was flying

You probably could have done this without kissing him at all, kept this impersonal, kept some line in the sand of your relationship with him

You were about to have sex with your best friend. 

And some-fucking-how the least terrifying on the list was the third one.

You break apart from each other slowly, exchanging a weighted look that's filled to the brim of unsaid things and emotions clawing their way to the surface like a drowning man desperate for air; Poe's cheeks are already flushed and when he shifts closer, you feel his hard length pressing against the seam of his trousers. 

Taking a step back from him, you toe off your boots, immediately knocking them aside and out of the way with your ankle as Poe kicks his off. As he shucks his jacket off, you peel your shirt up and over your head — and are immediately rewarded with the sound of Poe inhaling sharply because you didn't wear a bra tonight. 

You don't normally, the weight of the straps often giving you migraines, so you usually opt for tank tops underneath: you hadn't worn one tonight, hadn't made an effort to be remotely put together because your plans had involved having a drink with Poe and then crashing for the night after such a long day - which, technically speaking, nothing about that has changed.

You sit down on the edge of the mattress, which is a bad idea because it puts you at eye-level where his trousers are tented. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you're reaching for him, undoing his belt with nimble fingers. 

"What are you - oh fuck -” Poe sucks in a sharp breath as you yank down his trousers and underwear in one quick motion, revealing his thick cock. It's curved up, towards his tummy, and already leaking precum.

You pull him closer, fingernails digging probably too harshly into his thighs. You glance up at him under your eyelashes, find him staring at you with dark, frantic eyes as his chest heaves. He's already unraveling and you've barely begun. The thought does very little to help the gathering dampness in your underwear, but it sure motivates you into returning your focus to the task at hand. 

You don't immediately go for his dick though - instead you lean in, pressing your nose against the soft skin of his thigh, ghosting your lips across it and you're struck with the exigent need to mark him. Which shouldn't be on the table, it shouldn't. But the thought of leaving behind evidence of tonight on his body, one that he won't be able to ignore, that will remain for a day or two and that he'll have to look at in the shower or when he dresses or (hopefully) when he gets himself off — makes something thrash in self-satisfaction behind your ribcage. 

Something that's immediately replaced with a wave of disappointment: you don't have any claim on him, even if you know him better than anyone else in the galaxy. Even if you're a little bit hopelessly in love with him. 

So instead of pinching his skin between your teeth, you move further up to his neglected cock and lick a long, slow swipe up the underside of his shaft, which makes Poe gasp roughly, his head tipping back and exposing his throat.

Scratch that. You're completely and utterly gone for your best friend, no ‘little bit’ about it. Which, again, is not ideal so you shove the thought away angrily and take it out on Poe by swallowing him down.

What you can't take in your mouth, you wrap your fist around, jerking him off at the same time that you savor the weight and taste of him on your tongue, every groan and whimper that falls from his lips.

It doesn't feel like it's been long at all when his hips buck harshly into your mouth and you hear him swear, bitten off. He grabs your hair, pulling you off abruptly, his breathing erratic as he releases his grip on you, rubbing your skull apologetically with his thumb. "Not gonna last if you keep that up, maker fuck, you're good at that.” 

"Oh, did you underestimate how good I'd be?” You retort, scooting backwards on the bed when Poe gestures for you to, giving him room to crawl in after you. 

"No.” It's a surprisingly clipped answer, and there's a weight to it that gives you pause, trying to search his shadowed face for a deeper meaning because for once in his life, Poe isn't saying something. 

But before you can ask another question, he's ducking in to kiss you again, slowly as he settles over you, gently pushing until you're supine on your back, his body covering yours as he braces himself on his elbow so as to keep his full weight off you (not that you'd really mind), while letting his hand slide down to your neck, his thumb settling in at the dip of your throat and maker fuck that shouldn't feel so good. 

He wedges one thigh between your legs, grinding up and you nearly choke, whining his name against his lips - which has the delightful side effect of making Poe groan, bucking against you before having the audacity to pull his thigh back away from your core.

He tears his mouth away from yours, the hand that was around your throat sliding down your bare torso, stopping to thumb the underside of your nipple which has you arching up into his touch carelessly, eyelids fluttering shut so you miss his brief, pleased smile before he works his hand between your bodies. 

Poe pushes aside your underwear, dipping one finger inside you to the knuckle, making you both moan. "Gods, you're wet,” he sounds like he can't believe it, even though you can both hear the slickness as he drags his finger slowly around. "All this just from getting me off, baby?”

The endearment falls off his lips easily and without thought but it makes you clench down around him subconsciously as your mind grapples with the fact that this is actually happening, that his calloused finger is pressing up against your slick walls.

The realization thuds around your brain like an echoing drum, intensifying when he slides another finger in. The stretch is slow, stings a little because it's been a while since anyone's fingers but yours were down there, and Poe's are decidedly thicker. 

Longer too, evidently, because he's reaching a place that has sparks appearing behind your eyes, something sharp, full and hot building low in your stomach. You rock into his hand, nodding wordlessly as you try to chase your own high. "All for you," you hear yourself say, high-pitched and barely familiar to your own ears. 

“All for - gods,” his voice breaks down into something nonsensical as his fingers slide deeper inside, grinding against your walls and crooking back towards himself in a way that leaves the entire world muffled around you, your mouth dropping when he leans back on his knees, using his other hand to give attention to your neglected clit. "All for me," he murmurs again, incredulous while you whine and squirm, openly admiring your wrecked expression. "You gonna come for me, too?”

The combination of being stuffed full of his fingers, his clever ministrations against your clit and his makerdamned voice is enough to — you're not even sure what happens. You cum but it's nothing like anything that's happened before: instead of crashing over the edge and losing temporary awareness of your body, it's like you've surfaced from the deepest part of the ocean and are sucking in greedy lung-fulls of air, no longer crushed down by the unforgiving current pressure. 

Your whole body is trembling when Poe slowly removes his fingers, transfixed at the sight between your legs — before his eyes trail back to his fingers, which gleam in the low light with the thick evidence of your climax. He brings them up to his mouth, sucking away the residue: his eyes roll back like they do when his taste buds go alight with something you've baked together in the kitchens, an appreciative noise rumbling up his chest and going straight to your core as he drops his hand. 

He seems wrought with indecision for a moment - you can tell by the way his brow furrows, his tongue darting out to swipe along his bottom lip that he's thinking, considering his options while situated between your thighs.

You're too impatient for that: you breathe out his name, reaching for him and it breaks his reverie. He's back over you in an instant, kissing you again, parts long enough to murmur, "You taste so good.”

His praise makes you groan, and you drag him down to kiss him again, fingernails scraping his scalp - which he seems to like by the way he jerks into you with a gasp, reminding you of just how badly want him inside you.

"Poe, come on -”

"Anyone ever tell you you're impatient?” Poe asks around a grin, but he obeys anyway (which makes your brain light up with interest), and strokes himself roughly, going to line up with your entrance. 

You snarf at that. “Yeah, you have - repeatedly. Last I checked you weren't any better.”

He notches the head of his cock against you and your breath stalls, grip tightening in his hair as Poe slowly sinks in another few inches. 

"I'm patient about - hnngh - some things,” he says, face pinched as he unexpectedly stops. He's not even halfway in yet and already you feel unbearably full. You can't imagine what it'll be like when he's in all the way. "The important things - those I'm - fuck you're soft and -”

He makes another wordless noise of appreciation, hands gripping your thighs so tightly that you know there will be bruises there later - and, oh, how that makes your stomach corkscrew with desire. 

You exhale shakily, slacken your hold on his curls, try to summon the energy to speak, to help him breathe through it — he said it's been awhile since the last time he was with anyone, after all. “What are you patient about? Not the first cup of caf, I can tell you that.” 

He huffs a noise that might be a laugh, moving just that much deeper inside of you. Poe's eyes are squinched shut, eyelashes long and dark against the tips of cheekbones. “I - this - been waitin' for this - been -” his sentence fades in a shared synchronized moan between the two of you as he sinks in fully, his cock disappearing inside of you. 

If it's possible to be cock drunk instantly, you wonder if you aren't now, because everything feels heady and light as you adjust to the feel of him, his words bouncing around in your head but not quite sticking. You clench around him unintentionally and Poe swears, dropping his head to your shoulder. 

Belatedly, you realize he's still rambling — you open your mouth to start to interrupt, tell him he can move now, when he says, "This is so better than I imagined it'd be, you feel so good, you -”

He stops abruptly, going as carefully still as he had in the rec room, this time because he can feel you tense beneath him. Slowly, Poe lifts his head up from your shoulder, dark brown eyes flicking between yours panickedly, "It - I just - I meant -” 

You press your finger to his lips, stopping him from going on another spiel and - for good measure - you let your other hand slide around the curve of his back to keep him in place, in case he gets the idea of pulling out of you following his unintentional bombshell.

"It's better than I thought it'd be too,” you tell him softly, trailing your fingertip down his kiss-swollen lips as your heart pounds. You know Poe better than anyone, better than yourself, yet there's still a seed of anxiety sprouting in the back of your mind that you're misunderstanding him, that he did just mean it's better than he thought it would be back at the bar.

You ignore it, forging ahead to confess, "I just wish it was for more than one night.”

Poe pushes up on his elbow in surprise. The sudden movement tips the angle of your hips, so that he pushes in even deeper, the tip of him hitting some sweet spot that has your stomach flipping. 

It also means that his face is caught between pleasure and revelation, which is a funny mix but it just softens his countenance to the point that affection swells up your throat: you love him so much that it isn't fair. 

"Doesn't have to be if you don't want it to,” Poe says, shyness creeping into his voice. It's rare, hearing that from him - you're so used to his confidence that the absence of it is so stark and surreal you nearly forget how you ended up in this conversation. 

"I want every night with you, every morning. I want you. Not just like this - though, this is -” experimentally, you lift yourself up, grinding into him and making you both groan - "good, this is really fucking good. I want…want you. All of you.”

You don't realize you've closed your eyes until Poe taps you lightly on your sternum: when you blink them back open, he's smiling softer than you've ever seen him. “You have me, you've had me for a long time. Maker, I've wanted you so bad -” he laughs, rakes his free hand through his hair - "didn't expect to tell you like this though.”

And you can't help but laugh too, because everything is backwards and completely perfect too. You hitch your leg up around his hip, pressing the heel off your foot against the small of his back, opening yourself up to him. “Somehow I can't imagine it happening any other way…but do you think we could reconvene on laughing at how ridiculous we are later and get back to the fucking now?”

"Yeah, I can do that.” Poe leans back down, grinning broadly as his lips find yours, kissing you long and slow as he finally pulls out, thrusting back in with a lazy grind, letting you feel every vein and ridge of his cock drag against your walls. 

"Oh - just like that - more -” you break off as Poe tilts his head, licking into your mouth, tongue slick against yours as he snakes one hand between your bodies to thumb at your clit while he continues his devastating slow pace.

Slow but hard, snapping up into you just like you want, adding just enough force at the apex of each thrust that you see stars, electricity zipping up your spine as the throbbing between your legs crests —

Your thighs tense around Poe as you come, his name a jagged noise on your tongue as you cling to him through the haze, trying to catch your breath even as Poe continues to rut into you, desperate for his own release. 

He's well beyond words now, reduced to grunts and the occasional whimper, clutching your knee - rubbing the bump of bone absently with his thumb, even as he chases his own high. 

Eager to help him get there, you slide your hands back into his hair like he seemed to like earlier, tugging on his curls as you lean in and knock your mouths together in a messy kiss, trying to meet his thrusts with your own, clenching weakly around him. 

It's when you tug on his bottom lip that Poe finally comes, spilling inside of you for what feels simultaneously like lightyears and mere seconds, dropping his head against the curve of your neck as he lets go of your leg so you can straighten it out finally.

He doesn't pull out immediately and you're glad, gladder still when Poe wedges his arms around your back, drawing you closer - kisses your sweaty skin at your collarbone. The kind of sleepy, thoughtless affection you've been dreaming of for years. 

Eventually after a while of luxuriating in the honey-like bliss that's enveloped you both as you come down from your respective highs, Poe perches his chin in the valley of your breasts, which makes the juxtaposition of his serious face all the stranger as he studies you. "I love you - is that okay?”

There's a million and one ways you've imagined him saying those three words to you, and a million and one ways you've imagined responding to them.

In this one, you knock your knee against his ribs, grinning crookedly when you reply, “Only if it's okay that I love you too,” before tugging him up to kiss his smiling mouth again - because you can. 

And not just tonight. You'll get to kiss him in the morning when you wake up together, still entwined together, and again before his next patrol; you get to have him not for just one night, but for every night, as long as you both want.

You wrap your arms around him, hugging his warm body to your own as sleep begins to pull you both under, his weight a comfortable pressure against you, leaving you utterly content.

This, you decide sleepily, was single handedly the best idea you've ever had.

[rushingheadlong]

— Happy Birthday Brian May —

Take heart, my friend, we love you Though it seems like you're alone A million lights above you Smile down upon your home ....

[credits below]

Background gif from the astraeawrites animated texture pack

Old Brian photo from the youtube thumbnail for RedShed's video "Brian May- Love of my Life LIVE! at Glasgow Hydro (Queen + Adam Lambert)"

Young Brian photo taken from a Rock Montreal screenshot

Edit by me

[evgenythegreat]

FOUR QUEEN SONGS to listen to after finishing GOOD OMENS 2

1. Long Away

"Did we leave our way behind us?"

in which Crowley tries to explain why he could never return to Heaven.

Even the stars, he supposes, millions of light years away, are less indifferent than Heaven to the suffering of humanity. In fact, his works of art are mankind's watchmen and guardians, universal symbols of hope and longing, and he looks to them now to comfort him in his despair. "Take heart, my friend, we love you," they seem to say, "though it feels like you're alone. / A million lights above you / smile down upon your home."

"Lonely as a whisper on a star chase / I'm leaving here, I'm long away / For all the stars in Heaven / I would not live / I could not live this way."

2. Who Needs You

"Taking one step forward, slipping two steps back"

in which Crowley is ANGRY. He recounts all the times Aziraphale wasn't willing to listen to his perspective and tries to convince himself (unsuccessfully) that he's better off without him. He probably drove off blasting this after the kiss. It just made him feel worse.

"Oh I believed you / went on my knees to you / How I trusted you / but you turned me down"

3. Dreamer's Ball

"I'll be right on time and I'll dress so fine"

in which Crowley's longing has finally drowned out his anger and he dreams about winning his angel back. This time, he'll ask Aziraphale to dance. He closes his eyes and waltzes around the empty apartment.

"You make my life worthwhile with a single smile"

"If I can't have you when I'm waking/ I'll go to sleep and dream of you"

4. My Melancholy Blues

"I don't wanna talk about it"

in which Crowley is not doing well.

[waitwtfismylife]

i have so many

"for my life still ahead, pity me"

"take heart my friend, we love you, though it seems like you're alone, a million lights above you smile down upon your home"

"out of the city in the cold world outside, i don't want pity, just a safe place to hide, mama please, let me back inside"

"feel good, are you satisfied? do you feel like suicide? i think you should"

"hey boy, where'd you get it from? hey boy where did you go? i learned my passion in the good old fashioned school of lover boys"

"bugle blow, let trumpet cry, ogre battle lives forevermore"

"for we who grew up tall and proud in the shadow of the mushroom cloud, convinced our voices can't be heard, we just wanna scream it louder and louder"

"what is this thing that builds our dreams yet slips away from us?"

"he spends his evenings alone in his hotel room, keeping his thoughts to himself, he'd be leaving soon, wishing he was miles and miles away, nothing in this world, nothing could make him stay"

"sammy boy don't you know who you are? why can't you be happy at the emerald bar?"

Favorite line of your favorite Queen song go

(can be due to lyrics or just melody or whatever!)

mine is “I’d like for you and I to go romancing, say the word your wish is my command”

[lilyko233]

……

For every star in heaven

There’s a sad soul here today

……

Take heart my friend we love you

Though it seems like you're alone

A million light's above you

Smile down upon your home

……

🎉🎈Happy Birthday Brian!!!!🎂🎊

🥹💗

[embeehatesbee]

Nothing could have prepared me for this. (BIANCA DEL RIO X READER/ROY HAYLOCK X READER)

This is purely fan fiction! I respect Bianca/Roy with all my heart and support him with every fiber of my being. I wrote this after his season and I fell in love with him immediately, a little fantasy with the queen behind the shade.

2.8K words, not proof read. So when you see a mistake, feel free to correct me.

WARNINGS: a sad attempt with angst and shitty writing.

Nothing could have ever prepared me for this.

I never knew I would be this attracted to one person; let alone a drag queen in their late 30s. But here I was sitting in one of Bianca's many gigs.

She was far more busy now. Everything she had been working hard for the past decade was finally answered, although it did meant she had a tighter schedule.

Like it wasn't already tight before.

But it didn't matter, whether she'd be at New Orleans or New York, I was her home.

Every evening seemed to go the same.

Men in front tried to catch her attention, flirt with her and sometimes she'd flirt back. I won't lie that made my insides churn and that a sudden urge to stab someone were strong at those times, but I knew it was her job.

She'll be cheered on by her fans and she'd insult them one by one. It was fun watching her, like insults just come naturally on her mind.

Little did they know how sweet she could be behind the curtains. Once the facade fades and Bianca was just Roy.

Roy was soft, he loved staying in and eating KFC, watching reruns of Judge Judy in the small of my apartment.

He was a drag queen but a couch potato at heart, we would laze around my couch during his day offs, read a book or take a nap.

Even if he flirted with a million men, I've always kept myself sane. Knowing well that in the end of the day, it was our apartment he'd come home to everyday.

We don't interact when he's in drag. I adored him when he was Bianca, she was gorgeous in every way. Flawless and breathtaking.

He made sure to make my presence known though. He'd scan the room, concentrated until his eyes would land on me, he'd give me a smile. That dimpled smile I've grown to fall in love with.

Every after his show, when people weren't swarming around him and giving him their numbers, we'd walk hand in hand to his Buick.

For a queen, he always wanted things simple.

"I always think of you as my kindred spirit." He said, we were on our couch, his hands intertwined with mine as he fiddles with my fingers. "You're the best friend anyone could ever ask for."

He always knew how to make my heart full and break in just a second. What's worse was that it wasn't even his fault.

He was gay, he made that clear since our first interaction when I thought he was hitting on me.

"You're the love of my life." He says, chuckling. "Don't tell anyone I told you that, I'd die if they think I had a soft side."

I let out a snicker, keeping his words at mind. It was always platonic when it came to him, he could say the most romantic words and somehow made me feel in the friendzone.

"No one would ever believe me." I say, giggling against his chest. Hearing the thump of his heartbeat against my ear.

"They would never." He confirmed, looking down to connect our eyes. His brown doe eyes, his eyelashes, his dimples, everything about him was captivating. "But you do, right?"

I do. I do believe him when he says those sweet words, although not in the way I hoped for.

What I had always hoped for.

"Of course." I smile, our face were so close you would think we were about to kiss. I look down on his lips, letting out a sigh before speaking.

"You are the love of my life."

I don't know what happened next but his eyes froze, looking at me like he had seen a ghost. His smile turned to a frown, standing up and pushing me aside.

He struggles to pick up Bianca's things on the floor, her wig, her dress, everything.

Flabbergasted and confused, I lean over the couch, looking at him with a confused stare. "What are you doing?"

"I need to go." He says, not even batting an eye at my direction.

Still confused, I stood up. Leaning to help him pick up her things, thinking that he probably forgot to turn off the stove at his apartment.

"Are you okay? Let me come with you." I say, concerned at his sudden uneasiness.

"No, stay here." He said, his voice was different, shaken up.

I tried to piece one and one together, trying desperately to figure out what was going on. I eye him down, watching him pack like he was being chased.

"Okay, Roy. Stop." I walk up to him, grabbing the makeup box on his hand. "What the hell is going on?" I bit.

"Please, Y/N. You know damn well what is going on." He spat back, trying to grab the box off me, in which I pulled back further.

He was taller than me, so it's no question he was towering over me. Looking down at me with faint glitters on his face, his doe eyes were now drenched with tears that refused to slip his eyelids.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I crunch my brows, looking up at him as I feel his breath hitting my face.

"How long?" He asked.

"How long what? Can you just cut the bullshit and tell me what the hell is going on?" Frustration was growing in me.

We've had arguments. A handful of them in the past, mostly regarding who lost whose keys, or who was going to pick up the groceries.

This one was different, it was serious. Then fear crept up to me, the fear of losing him.

He scoffs, walking to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. With a sigh, he laid his palms flat on the counter separating the two of us.

"I'm not stupid, Y/N." He spoke, low enough for me to hear. "How long?"

I searched his eyes, getting an idea on what he was referring to.

He wouldn't know, does he? He couldn't.

I've been hiding it for years, there's no way he was figuring it out now. That would be absurd.

With a gulp, I shook my head. "I have no idea what you're talking about." I paused.

With his tongue poking his cheek, he furrowed his brows and lets out a chuckle. He wasn't amused, nor did he think this was funny.

Actually! He does. He was laughing at himself for not seeing it sooner, no one could ever look at a friend the way his best friend would looked at him.

"I can't believe I didn't see this sooner." He spoke to himself, placing a hand on his forehead as he began pacing in our kitchen.

My eyes followed him carefully, cautiously waiting for his next outburst.

"It's not like we did anything for this to brew up the way it did." I shut my eyes, knowing where this was leading to.

"2 years." I whisper, so quiet that I hoped he didn't hear it. I knew he heard me, from the way he was staring blankly in the corner, refusing to meet my gaze.

He was quiet, the atmosphere was still. It was so tensed, I wanted to rip right through it and vanish.

"I love you, Roy." I broke the silence, almost like a prayer. "So much that I kept it for 2 years. And I will continue doing so, even if it means keeping it for another two."

"I don't know where we go from here, Y/N." He lets out, defeated.

"I don't care if you feel the same, I knew what I was getting into from the day we met." I leaned over the counter, trying to reach for his hands. He looked down hesitantly before attaching his long fingers with mine. "You don't have to acknowledge it, hell you don't even have to love me, just stay."

He shook his head. "It's not that easy."

"What do you mean?" I let out a cry, laughing while at it. "We can just go on like nothing ever happened."

"Something did happen, Y/N. For 2 years, without my knowledge." He lets go of my hands. "It may be easy for you to process but this is way too much for me. I cannot give you what you want me to give you."

"I'm not asking you to give me anything." I defend. "It's not like I'm asking you to love me back."

Coming out of my mouth, I knew that was a lie. I could get on my knees, beg for him to love me, but I will not risk it. Not ever.

"That's not how it works." His short responses was sending me in orbit.

"This doesn't have to work into anything. I love you, big deal!" My hands were in the air, waving around like some crazy person.

I walk around the counter, facing him once again as he looks down at me with his prying eyes.

"I don't need you to love me back." As soon as those words came out, it broke me. He doesn't have to love me back, right?

He frowns, cupping my face on his soft hands. "You're hurting."

"It'll pass." I say, watching him wipe the singular tear that fell on my cheek.

He shook his head then walks out to the living room again, grabbing his suitcase from his trip, along with Bianca's things that he had used tonight.

I looked at him, my heart breaking piece by piece with every step he made. He grabbed his makeup box from me, which I refused to let go of.

He shuts his eyes, letting me lean onto his chest one last time. Dropping his suitcase to engulf me in a hug, it was obvious that both our tears had now fallen.

"I love you." I spoke, desperately holding onto what's left in this relationship. If there was still something in this relationship.

"I love you too." He says, which only made my chest hurt more. He didn't mean it the way I wanted it to. "Let me go, Y/N."

Gripping onto his shirt tighter, I refused to do as he says. "Don't go."

"I—We need space." He chokes.

"We don't." Stubbornly, I stood my ground.

"I don't want to hurt you." He says, pushing me lightly. This was hurting just as much as it was hurting me.

"Please." I begged, looking up at him. His tears falling on the side of his cheeks and onto mine, his fingers immediately caught my tears and wiped them off. "Please."

"You're making this difficult." He began pushing me harder. After some time fighting, he had managed to push me off him.

I stood there like a hot mess. Watching Roy walk towards the door, he turns to look at me.

If my heart wasn't as broken as it is now, the sight of his eyeliner slightly smudged by his tears would have shot me down in a second.

"Are we okay?" I asked, one last time.

He smiled, trying his very best not to break down with me. "We will be."

And with a click of the door, the possibility of losing my best friend and the person that I loved that night broke me.

-

I didn't hear from him till the next weekend, he had been busy with his shows and even when he wasn't even needed, he found something to make him busy. He didn't tell me where he stayed for the past week, a part of me didn't want to know as well.

I knew Roy, he had a handful of hookups over the years. He promised to stop before his tour started and I was just worried maybe he was back to hooking up, not that it was my place to worry.

"You look like you're dying, sweetheart." He spoke, he was performing in one our regular bars. I looked at him at awe, I always loved it when she was in drag. He was beautiful, Bianca was beautiful.

"I've had better days." I respond, once he was in drag, he wasn't Roy. She was Bianca.

Bianca Del Rio, the comedic drag queen from New Orleans. 

"I'm sure you have." She says with a dimpled smile, looking towards the bartender and hollering at him. "Order whatever you want, I'll be back with you honey." 

Roy was in character, something he had to deal with in show business. Deep down I knew, he was still upset. I look at him, his eyes were unsure, confused, and scared. I did that to him.

Cutting our stare, he went back into character in a snap. I always wondered how he managed to do that, one of the many things that fascinates me about him. Bianca was the alter ego he always wanted to be, that he had slowly grown into becoming.

I loved that about him, seeing him confident with himself, everyone loving him for him. The love that I know not even I can give, and the thought that I could possibly rip that off him pained me. I didn't want to hurt him, it wasn't my fault I fell in love with him, right?

I watched him with pride and joy, his glow was blinding when he was Bianca. In all honesty, he glowed when he was just Roy, just as much as he glowed as Bianca. 

Then a sudden click entered my mind, like I had been snapped back to reality. There was no way I fitted in his life, not in the way I wanted to and thought I did, we were different. 

I couldn't live another two years hiding away, dodging his prying eyes and gawking at him from afar. I know I couldn't. I wasn't gonna let him deal with that as well.

"That's not how it works." I whispered, his words echoing on the back of my mind. And with a tear, I left a 10 dollar tip on the bottom of my glass.

Nothing could have prepared me for this.

Leaving the person that taught me how it really means to fall in love with someone, to fall in love with someone so much that you'd sacrifice your own happiness for their own. It was better this way, I think.

And with one final glance, I looked at her. Her eyes were already on mine, with a frown on his face, breaking into character immediately.

He knew me well enough to know what I was thinking.

"I love you." I mouthed before leaving his life forever.

Or was I?

As I hail for a taxi, I felt soft hands wrapping around my arm. Bianca towered over me, as Roy usually does, looking down at me with tears on her eyes. "You were going to leave?" 

"I can't keep hurting you." I whispered from under my breath, the cold November air hitting our skin. 

"I don't care if you are. It took me so long to realize how much you actually meant to me, I knew something was different about you." She spoke, letting his tears fall along with his eyeliner. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, I shouldn't have left you."

I shook my head, knowing damn well he didn't think this through. "Please be careful with what you say next."

He bit the inside of his cheek, looking around him as we were surrounded with the people from the pub. Watching as their favorite comedic drag queen show mercy upon me. A stupid young writer in NYC.

"I know you think I didn't think this through, but I did." He spoke. "I want to be with you, Y/N."

Simple words yet it held so much power over me, words that I've desperately wanted to hear for years. "Roy. . ."

"Before you say anything, I want you to make sure. We are going to face something and not a lot of people will accept us, this will be difficult Y/N." He pulled me closer. "I want to make sure you want to be with me, all of me."

"I was sure from the moment I saw you performing at that beatdown pub in New Orleans." I spoke, not bothering the dozen of people gawking at us. "You shined so much, I fell in love with Bianca the moment I saw her, as for Roy. . . I fell even harder. I got to know the two of you for 2 years, I fell in love with all of you in between. I'm sure, I know damn well I am." I say, letting his hands palm around my face with such care.

A bright smile on his face, a relieved sigh leaving his full red lips. He leaned down to kiss me, finally feeling his lips against mine. It was even better than I had imagined.

"You are the love of my life." He spoke in between the kiss and for the first time, it meant the way I wanted it to mean. A huge wave of butterflies engulfed in my stomach, I pulled him closer and made the kiss deeper.

An applause erupted from the crowd, cheering the two of us on. And once the kiss was over, I carefully wiped the smudges off his lips and chuckled. "I think you have a show to get to."

"Oh shit." He spun around to face the crowd. "Alright, shows over everyone. Get your asses back in the pub." He yelled, his obnoxious voice making the crowd roar in laughter. Slowly as they walked back to the pub, he turned and spun me around.

With a soft peck on my lips he grinned. "I'll see you later sugar."

Nothing could have prepared me for this. 

The love of my life was a drag queen and she sure as hell was a good one.

[rendevousz]

freak

avengers x teen!fem!reader

summary: you get captured during a mission and the team saves you.

warnings: language, violence, brief misogyny, torture, **NO sexual assault (because as i was proofreading, i only implied most of the torture scenes because i didn't want to write it in graphic detail and i realised the vague wordings might be misinterpreted as sexual assault which IT IS NOT, just clearing it up), and also again, my inability to write good endings

word count: 4589

notes: i just rewatched iron man 2 so that explains justin hammer LMAO also ooc justin hammer because even tho mans evil, he gets extremely um.. cruel here but anyways i hope you enjoy this!!

you were 13 when you first met the avengers and 16 when you officially joined. you grew up as one of HYDRA's experimented children and the team had found you when they raided the base that you were in.

a small, sickly-looking kid you were, sat against your cell wall, hugging your knees. 13 but you could probably pass off as a 10 year old due to how malnourished and miserable you were. burying your head in between your knees, you covered your ears as the loud gunshot noises filled the whole place. the metal door of your cell slamming open against the wall had you whimpering, hands above your head in fear.

every time the door slammed open, guards would come drag you out for more experiments so it was an instinct for you to cower in fear at the sound.

"last room in the west hall, i found a little girl."

you heard nothing because you were covering your ears, preparing yourself to be forcefully dragged by the guards to the experiment room. but it never came.

"hey," a soft voice called. you were violently shaking at this point, breathing heavily as you tried to calm down. "hey, it's okay." the voice called out again and you felt them touch your shoulders.

your head immediately jolted up, flinching away from the stranger's touch. your eyes met a blue pair as you backed away into the corner in fear. "i'm sorry! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to." the man apologised. you slowly looked up at him, observing him. he had on a full black outfit, a quiver of arrows slinging on his shoulder and he was holding onto a bow.

"don't be scared. i'm here to help," he states with his hands out, as if to calm you down. "that's what they all say." you hissed through gritted teeth and a tear-stained face, glaring at him even though that could've been a very wrong move had it been with an actual HYDRA guard.

despite the strange feeling of being safe around this man, you didn't let your guard down. that's exactly what those scientists said seven years ago. trusting kind-looking men got you into this hell you never thought you would ever escape from and you weren't going to make the same mistake again.

"clint," a red-headed female, also in all black, entered through the open door of your cell with her pistol up. at the sight of the weapon, you broke your glare towards the man. your breathing quickened and you went back to your original position before the archer came; body pressed up against your knees and covering your ears with your palms.

"i'm sorry! i'm sorry! i'll come! please don't use that on me again," you whimpered, voice muffled as your face was hidden against your knees. the woman freezes mid-walk, looking at her friend with a bewildered expression.

"nat! put that away!" clint whispered harshly, eyes glaring at the pistol in nat's hands. nat's jaw dropped in realisation, a small gasp leaving her lips as she immediately put away her weapon.

she slowly makes her way to you and clint puts his arm out before she could get closer. he looks at her with a worried expression as he shook his head, as if telling her that she can't get too close to you. nat nods understandingly, crouching down a distance from you.

"hey," she spoke softly. "i promise you that we're not here to hurt you." you kept your face hidden from her, still hugging your legs tightly. nat sighs before sitting down.

"here, let's introduce ourselves. i'm nat and this right here is clint." you hear her speak and when you slowly lifted up your head, you saw the both of them sitting down in front of you, seeming to have made themselves at home in your pathetic cell. "what's your name?"

name? you had never been able to use your name before. you always kept your own name deep in your heart despite no one ever using it, afraid you would forget it if you stopped thinking of it. the only name they ever called you here was 'number five'.

"y/n," you whispered, still doubtful about these people's intentions. you almost burst out crying when you said your name out loud. that was the first time you introduced yourself with your actual name and not the number you were given ever since you were captured.

nat must have noticed this because she immediately spoke up, trying to distract you from your consuming thoughts. "y/n...that's a pretty name for a pretty girl like you. how old are you, y/n?" she asks again.

you contemplated once more but decided it was fine. you knew you were probably going to regret trusting these two strangers but what could be worse than what HYDRA has been doing to you for years?

"13," you muttered, looking down at your lap. you were now timidly seated cross-legged, playing with the tattered hem of your shorts. you heard a small gasp from one of them and looked up to see clint with his jaw dropped.

the two adults were both thinking of the same thing. how could you be 13? you were so small and sickly-looking, they didn't even think you were older than ten, let alone an early teen.

"i know you're scared and you have all the reasons in the world to be, but i promise you, we're here to help. we'll get you out of here, only if you trust us. will you trust us?" nat says. your mind was conflicted. you were either going to finally get out of this hellhole or you were going to be taken somewhere even worse than here. but could anywhere really be worse than here?

you decided to take a leap of faith and trust these two strangers. that decision had to have been the best decision you've ever made in your life.

you were now 18, an official avenger and you had the most amazing family you could've ever asked for. they were a bit on the crazier side but could you really have a normal family when said family consisted of superheroes? but you weren't complaining. you loved these people.

they were the ones who took care of you when you thought you had no one. having been a HYDRA experiment, you had abilities the normal human didn't. said ability being shapeshifting and healing. that's why you became an avenger. your shapeshifting ability was essential during missions where you had to sneak in and you being able to heal others was crucial when medic wasn't able to be there on time.

you pretty much came along to every mission despite the adults saying you don't have to. you knew they were only doing that to protect you from dangers of all those missions but how could you not when you had such abilities? they'd be much better with you helping.

that was why you were here, in bulgaria, fighting alongside the team. well, just steve, nat, clint, bucky and tony.

justin hammer had managed to get his hands on a type of out-of-this-planet weapon that tony was also trying to retrieve, and he had big plans with it. hence why the avengers had to come where hammer had wrecked havoc in; sofia, bulgaria. he had upgraded his robots with the tech used for the stolen weapon.

with evil robots attacking the whole city, it felt like you were living the story that wanda told you of what happened in sokovia before you met the avengers.

an hour passed before all of the robots had finally been taken down and you all knew you had to get to hammer before he activates more robots to distract you guys and uses the weapon for bad things.

"tony, have you located hammer?" steve's voice sounded in your ear through the comms. you had just finished healing the nasty gash on clint's side, nat's cut on her forehead and the bruises all over bucky. you were feeling significantly weaker now, from the amount of healing you did. you stumbled slightly when you walked and bucky immediately held onto your arm. "doll, are you okay?"

"i'm fine, buck. nothing i haven't dealt with before," you told him, gently removing his grip on your arm, walking back to the quinjet.

-

"no, absolutely not. we are not sending y/n right into a death trap. she's not even strong enough right now, she just finished healing us."

you were all back at the compound now and planning a second attack on justin hammer.

"it's not a death trap, buck. and i know you're worried but she's the only choice we got. y/n, all you gotta do is sneak in as one of his henchmen and provide entrance for us. once we get in, we'll take all his guards down and get that weapon from hammer and we won't have to worry about his world domination plans anymore. it'll be over as soon as it starts and she'll be back safe with us. sound good, y/n/n?"

"yeah, sure." you agreed, already having a person in mind that you were going to change yourself to.

-

the plan had gone just as steve wanted and they managed to raid justin hammer's building, tony stealing the very item that could've aided in the massacre of millions. justin and his henchmen managed to escape the building before the avengers could catch them.

"well, that was anticlimactic," tony scoffs, already making his way to the quinjet. "but good job, y/n. you saved the day once again."

he expected to hear a laugh from you, like you usually did, being the only one who ever responds to him after missions. but instead he was met with silence. "kid?" still no answer.

"y/n, where are you?" steve panicked, finally realising that you were the only one who hasn't responded in a hot minute. "y/n/n, this isn't funny." he breathed out.

"she's...she's gone."

-

"well, well, well," a voice spoke right as you woke up from your slumber. you squinted, noticing that you were in some sort of dark room with only one light bulb right above you. "what do we have here?"

a figure walks right in the light and you could barely make out justin hammer's ugly face with how dizzy you felt. "if it isn't the little freak." he states condescendingly, smirking down at your helpless position, both wrists and ankles cuffed onto the metal chair you were sat on. you struggled against the restraints, trying to get free but to no avail.

your breathing quickened, your current vulnerable state reminding you of your later years in HYDRA. they had started off experimenting on you on a metal gurney but as you grew older, you realised that what they were doing to you was bad so you started fighting back. that ended you up on a metal restraint chair instead of the gurney, strapped to the chair with cuffs on your wrists and ankles.

this felt like deja vu. the same panic you felt, the same breathing difficulties, the same amount of effort put into trying to get out of the restraints. "you should know, princess, that that doesn't work." hammer chuckled, a fake pout on his lips as he crouched in front of you, a rough hand on your cheek. you instinctively jerked away from his touch, to which he paid no mind to because he had expected that. he then grabbed your chin harshly, turning your head up towards him. you glared at him.

"you think i didn't know what you did? snuck in as one of my men using your freaky powers? not to mention useless. imagine having powers but not being able to use them to even escape from mere humans," he laughs in your face, harshly letting go of your chin, throwing your head backwards. "you tell me where stark planned to bring the weapon and i'll let you pretty little thing go."

"no."

before you could even comprehend, his fist came flying at your face and your head dropped to the side at the impact. your left cheekbone was throbbing and you could already tell you were gonna have a black eye. despite the pain, it wasn't something you weren't used to. you were an avenger, after all. getting decked in the face was practically in the contract.

he grabbed your chin once again, pulling your head upwards to face him. "you're gonna tell me where it is or i'm gonna make you regret it."

you looked up at him with a bored look. he punched you again. and again. and again. until you could taste the blood on your tongue. "think you wanna tell me now, sweetheart?"

"never. not to someone like you."

the man seemed to get a kick out of beating you up because he punched you again in the face. your whole face was pretty much numb now and the metallic taste in your mouth intensified. you smirked at the man before you, chuckling darkly.

"sure, beat up the helpless girl. that's the only way you can beat me, right? when i'm all tied up? what a man,"

his hand was around your throat within a second and he forced you to look him in the eyes again. "sweetheart, you're a girl. tied or not, you're still weak. not even with that useless power of yours."

taking advantage of how close his face was to yours, you gathered as much bloody saliva in your mouth before spitting it in his face.

it was very much the wrong thing to do because after he wiped off his face, he left the room and two men came in, various tools in hand for their fun with you.

-

"stark! my buddy! how's it going?" justin hammer's face appeared on the screen in the conference room, where the avengers were having a meeting about your possible whereabouts.

"where is she?!" wanda growled, standing up abruptly.

"what ever do you mean?" hammer smirked, feigning innocence. "you know what we mean. where is she?" steve spoke authoritatively, trying to control his anger at the sight of the man's face.

"i'll tell you where your thing is if you tell me where my thing is." he smiled wickedly. this caused wanda to get angrier. "y/n is not a thing! and the weapon was never yours in the first place!" vision held onto her to calm her down and it worked because she sat back down, though still glaring at the screen.

"oh she's not a thing? seems like it to me, though." he smirked and the team frowned, not understanding what he meant until they heard screams and justin's smirk widening at the sound. what a sick bastard. "what are you doing to her?!" bucky screamed, knocking his chair back as he stood up.

"i don't know, you tell me." he chuckles, and the screen changes to the live footage of you in the restraint chair with the two men in the room.

you were no longer fighting back now, just sat limply with your head dropped to the side. the first hour with them, you had been fighting back like you did with justin, despite the restraints, but now entering the second hour, you were too exhausted for anything.

your left eye had been swollen shut, you could barely breathe through your nose, your cheeks were throbbing like hell and your bottom lip was busted. your head was the only thing that moved freely when hit so the men seemed to find satisfaction the most when they punched you in the face. though that didn't stop them from inflicting pain on other parts of you.

"let her go, she's just a kid!" sam exclaimed, his grip on the edge of the table tightening to control his anger. peter and wanda were crying looking at the awful state you were in, clint, tony and bruce were silent in shock, steve and bucky were getting increasingly angry as the abuse continued.

"are you going to tell us where stark is keeping the weapon or have you not gotten enough?" one of the two men was heard asking, pulling your hair back to make you look up at him. you look at with your half-opened right eye, breathing heavily. "my answer's never gonna change no matter how many times you ask."

he scoffs, stepping back before the other man swings a bat right at your stomach. the air was immediately knocked out of your lung. the men laughed as you coughed up blood profusely. this caused wanda to get more hysterical.

"well, looks like she wants more. i'll call back when she's had enough. toodles," he waves his fingers at the camera with a sinister smirk before abruptly ending the call.

the room went silent after the call, save for bucky and sam breathing heavily from the anger they felt. bucky then turned to steve, pain could be seen on his face. "you said she would be safe."

"i–i'm sorry, buck. i didn't know he was gonna take her with him." steve was still frozen in shock, the image of you on the chair now permanently ingrained in his brain. in everyone's brains actually.

"guys, gear up, he's in colorado."

all heads turned towards natasha and she looked back at them with a 'what?' expression. "you were tracking him down the whole time?"

"um, duh? now come on, gotta save our girl."

-

you awoke to a stinging sensation on your inner forearm. after your bloody coughing fit, they proceeded to beat you up again and you were knocked out then. now you were slowly regaining consciousness but you were starting to prefer being passed out. your whole body was in pain and the fact that you couldn't even move made it even worse.

"oh, lookie here. sleeping beauty is up." you were met once again with justin hammer's ugly face. he was sitting on a chair perpendicular to your left side. you couldn't wait to get out of here so you didn't have to keep seeing his face every time you woke up. your inner forearm was stinging even more now so you looked down at it. you gasped at the sight.

"how'd you like my artwork?" he chuckled at your reaction. there on your arm, obviously carved out with the bloody knife that the asshole was so proudly holding on to, was 'FREAK'. carved out big and bold. on your skin. "pretty fitting, eh? freak? because, you know, that's what you are."

the blood was seeping out through the cuts and it stung even more now that it had been exposed to the air. the asshole moved his chair to your other side. "what should i write on this arm?" he feigns a thinking expression, looking up thoughtfully with his thumb and pointer finger on his chin.

"please, i–i don't know where tony put it. i really don't." you cried, tears now flowing freely down your face without a shame.

he looks at you with amusement. "what is this? are you...are you giving up already? can't take anymore?" he smirks and you sigh, closing your eyes. you just awoke but you were exhausted. so, so exhausted.

he takes out his phone, the smirk now permanent on his ugly face. "stark! kid's finally had enough. wanna tell me where the weapon is now or do you want to find her body at the bottom of the ocean?"

you couldn't even be bothered to react to his statement. the pain all finally registered and you were tired. tired and in excruciating pain.

"kinda busy right now, can you call back later?" you could hear tony's voice sound from justin's phone and the man beside you laughed. "i see you don't care for the girl. what could possibly be more important than saving her?"

"i don't know, you tell me." a voice said from behind you two and before you knew it, hammer was knocked off the chair he was on. you weakly turned your head just in time to see a metal arm force hammer up onto his feet before wrapping around his neck. "don't you fucking touch her again."

"y/n!" you heard wanda's voice as she entered the room with peter. more tears flowed down your face at the sight of them, stinging when they rolled past the cuts on your face but that didn't matter. your family was finally here to save you.

you saw the red mist of wanda's powers surround your cuffs before they clicked open. "oh, bubs, i'm so sorry." she cried, both hands hovering around your face, hesitating to touch you in fear of hurting you. her eyes fell onto the words carved out onto your skin and her mouth fell open before covering it with her hand. "i'm so sorry we couldn't get to you sooner." peter's voice cracked and you could tell he was emotional.

"it's okay," you told them, giving them a small smile, the biggest one you could give in your current state.

tony, sam and steve entered the room to see bucky relentlessly beating up your captor and wanda and peter standing by you as you cried.

"cupcake, we're here now. don't cry, you're safe now." tony came closer and despite knowing that you were because your family was finally here, you couldn't help but let out all the pent up emotions you've kept throughout your time of captivity.

sam had a go at justin once bucky was done and steve had to physically pry them both off of the sick bastard so that nat could cuff him and bring him back to the jet.

"y/n/n, i'm so sorry. if i hadn't–"

"it's okay, stevie." you cut him off. truthfully, you only did so because you knew he was going to giving a long-winded explanation justifying his actions and your headache couldn't bear to hear lengthy sentences. but you also didn't think it was in any way his fault so he didn't deserve to be beating himself up for this. shit happens, anyway.

"let's get you out of here, doll." bucky says, cringing when he sees the blood on the floor of your chair, as well as on your clothes. he quickly reaches to lift you off the chair but stops when you let out an ear-piercing scream of pain. "doll, i'm so sorry! did i hurt you?!" bucky questions in panic.

"y–you didn't, they did. it...it hurts everywhere," you cried, feeling hopeless that you couldn't even bear being carried by someone, let alone get up by yourself. their hearts broke when you said that. you never really cried much in front of them and you were known to withstand pain well because of how much shit HYDRA put you in as well as your powers being healing, meaning you had a higher pain tolerance than most people.

"it's okay, bubs. i got you. let's get you home, alright?" wanda's calming voice broke you out of your breakdown and red mist surrounded your whole body, wanda moving you with her powers. you were thankful of that because it didn't cause any more pain to your body.

maybe hammer was right. maybe you are just a freak with useless powers. wanda floated you into the jet and she set you down on the bed. "y/n, oh my god!" clint cried out once he sees you. you looked much worse than you did on hammer's camera footage during the call an hour ago. "kid, i'm so sorry."

"clint, take the wheel. bruce doesn't have all the resources needed. she needs to be treated ASAP." nat tells her best friend and he nods, taking the wheel and immediately taking off once everyone had boarded.

you were laid on the bed, right eye slightly open as bruce examined you. exhaustion hit you like a truck and before you knew it, you blacked out.

-

"how is she, doc?"

"pretty banged up but y/n, as i already knew, is a strong girl. lots of internal bleeding, broken bones, bruises and scars but she'll be fine. you can check her file later if you want," doctor cho tells tony outside of your room. "it's fine, can we see her?" he asks on behalf of the whole team standing behind him.

"yeah, of course! she woke up five minutes ago. i'll be off now, call me or my team if you need anything." she bids goodbye and left the group of superheroes.

steve slowly opens the door and there you were in bed, staring up at the ceiling. "hey, y/n/n," he greets sheepishly, feeling as though he had interrupted your alone time of blankly staring at the ceiling. the team trailed in behind him and soon your bed was surrounded by the avengers.

"hi, cupcake."

you looked away from the ceiling and turned your head towards tony. "oh, hey tones." you smile as sam helps you sit up while the rest sat on chairs all around you. "how you feeling, bub?" nat asks, eyes flickering down to the bold scarring of letters on your forearm.

"as okay as i can be." you answered truthfully, pressing your inner forearm closer to your body so the team doesn't see the letters carved onto your skin. you already know what you are, you didn't need the rest thinking so too.

"you're not a freak, bubs."

you look up at wanda. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to read your mind. but they were awfully loud. you're not a freak, y/n. and you're not useless too. that bastard may have carved out that word onto your skin but the scar will fade. it's not permanent. you know why? because that's not what you are." she tells you, taking off her jacket to wrap it around you because you felt self conscious of the scars all over your arms where the team could see.

"yeah, doll. you're an amazing person and your powers help us so much. i mean, you saved millions just helping us get the weapon back from justin hammer. if you hadn't, well, who knows what could've been happening right now?" he places a gentle hand at the side of your head, stroking your hair.

"yeah and who heals us when we get really hurt during missions, huh? i mean, if you hadn't healed that stab wound i got during that mission in new mexico, i probably wouldn't even be here at this moment." clint tells you and you roll your eyes at him. "you're exaggerating."

"i am not!" he laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes once again.

"y/n/n, i'm really sorry for—"

"i don't wanna hear it, stevie."

"but–"

"no. it's not your fault. shit happens." you brush him off. "lang–"

"you say language to me, i'll blame this shit on you even when it's not your fault. try me, rogers." you glare at the blond super soldier. he raises his arms in surrender, leaning back on his chair as the team laughs.

the team continue to entertain you and you couldn't help but smile at the sight in front of you. these were the people who would drop anything for you and were willing to dropkick any asshole in the face for hurting you. justin hammer never had a chance against your family to begin with.

taglist <3

@amourtentiaa @rqmanoff @abitofeverythinggg

[zepskies]

Thank you so much, my dear @waywardxwords. 💕 It was definitely therapeutic as I combined what I saw of my mom and aunt/other family members' grief and my own for the last couple of years, and the stuff that was happening during that time.

As for the reader, she was really tough on herself, wasn't she? We're seeing more and more of her personality/character weaknesses in this chapter. Like I really love what you said here:

I feel like she doesn’t handle intense moments like this well (hell, I wouldn’t either). For me, my mind always goes to busy brain (which we see later in the chapter when she’s making lists and trying to tackle tasks). I really liked catching that view.

That's exactly where I was going in this chapter. I mean, this is part of why she worked so hard to take care of her family. This truly is her worst nightmare, so it's just not computing for her in that moment.

I also don’t blame her for being irritated with Dean. I’m impressed that he stayed calm. She has a million things happening—and like we’ve chatted about before—she has a hard time leaning on people. To allow someone in like that can sometimes feel like the most intimate action in a relationship.

Thank you for calling this out! I think irritation/anger is normal when you're not used to people helping you. You want to be strong enough so you don't have to let down those protective walls, like you said. She eventually does let Dean in, but he has to knock pretty hard on those walls lol.

The moment between George and Dean 😭. That about broke me. And hearing him talk about Sophie? Ugh.

I really enjoyed writing that first scene between George and Dean (and later the second one as well). You get to see that George has his own wants and needs, and the fact that he gives Dean a glimpse of that is a sign of his trust.

“All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.” Lmfao 💀. That line is GOLD.

Lmfaooooo had to relieve the tension somehow, and I thought it was on brand for George. 🤣🤣

The situation with Andréa stung, but I feel like the reader was totally not wrong. Given the circumstances, especially, I don’t blame her for being blunt and to the point. And when she picked up her purse and took it to the front door???

Yep, she said bye bitch. lol I'm on team reader as well, though I'm kind of biased because that part of the convo was definitely coming from my internal dialogue with my "friend" I told you about a while back. I didn't tell her at the time we had our "argument," but that was essentially how I felt at the time.

I love how Dean is unequivocally there for her when George passes. My heart goes out to him, because it seems like he’s doing a lot, but I also understand the position the reader’s in and she truly needs someone to help.

I thought about how this AU Dean might respond in this situation, but I don't think he would've given anything less than this support honestly. I don't think he would let her go through this alone, or leave someone who needed him.

And thank you for shouting out the "three months" line! Giving a bit of Dean being reluctant, "especially for Dean who isn’t used to being in a relationship like this," like you said. But his giving nature wins over his selfishness.

Well, well done. Chapters like this are hard, but I think you wrote it beautifully and I’m really excited to see what comes next ♥️

Thank you so much!! I was genuinely afraid that people wouldn't like this one or connect to it (hence my long as hell end note lol), but I'm so glad that doesn't seem to be the case. 💕💕

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

🔥Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still. 

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to—”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.” 

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast. 

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made. 

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry. 

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part. 

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat. 

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes. 

He’s not leaving you. 

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart. 

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you. 

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand. 

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.” 

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

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[parchmentedpetrichor]

➳it's good to see you again ♡ ☾

in which y/n l/n comes home from a 2 year long mission to subdue the rest of the escaped death eaters and meets her best friend, fred weasley, yet again.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±1.5k

tw: mentions of scars, nightmares, mentions of the war

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ft. angelina and george

it's been a long day without you, my friend

and i'll tell you all about it when i see you again

it's good to see you again

y/n was sitting comfortably in the backseat of george's fancy car, earphones plugged in and listening to a song to drown out the sound of angelina and george talking about something they had seen on the news. her head was leaning against the window, her eyes drinking in the familiar view of london in nostalgia. it hurt her that she wasn't the only person who would see the beautiful city she'd known from the very beginning. and she missed it. angelina and george had picked her up from the quarantine centre after she had made a trip to albania for a couple of years with the rest of her auror unit to imprison the remaining death eaters. albania had recently acquired many cases of dragonpox, and so all the unit members had to isolate in a little hotel by the edge of italy. it had been a few weeks since the start of the quarantine and now she was zooming along a british highway, ever so keen to see her friends and family again. and fred. fred was her best friend. they had been since 5th year. perhaps she was harbouring feelings for him, perhaps she wasn't. and here she sat, curled up and watching the views, trying to decipher whether or not he'd be different. he had survived the war just barely. it would be acceptable for him to change. did he still have the millions of freckles dotted along his face? her face flushed just thinking about it. bringing her hands up to her cheeks she shook her head. chile, y/n, he probably has a girlfriend. it's been two years, and he didn't like you two years ago, he won't like you now. the thought alone made her frown. "what's got you blushing and frowning like mad?" angelina looked at her through the mirror in the front of the car. george whispered something in her ear and she giggled. "y/n, is this possibly about a certain fred weasley?" her eyes widened. "nope, not at all." "really? so you were definitely not thinking about the amount of freckles my twin has on his face? hmm?" "no! george, seriously?" she stuck my tongue out at him. "or his ginger hair?" angelina added. "no! you guys are idiots!" she folded her arms. "and she's blushing again," angelina sniggered. "stop!" "it's okay, he blushes about you way more," george laughed, eyes on the road. "stop, stop, stop!!!!!" "it is true." "no it isn't, okay? erm, i don't like him, he doesn't like me. we're best friends. you guys are gross." she resumed looking out the window, shaking her head. they had reached a pretty big house with two levels, with large windows that y/n would absolutely die to have and cute little bricks sticking out. "what? i thought we were going back to my parent's house?" "you wish." "who are we visiting?" "oh just a person i know from work," angelina said with a twinkle in her eyes. "okay. did we bring anything?" "just you," she replied, "me and george are heading back to our place. your stuffs at your parents." george nodded. y/n frowned, "okay." she bounded up to the door and knocked a couple of times. the door opened and she immediately began babbling off a greeting and an introduction without looking at the person. "i'm y/n l/n, and i understand you're from angie's work! it's nice to meet yo-" her eyes were met by chocolate brown ones, framed by so many freckles. fred lived in this place? "it's good to see you again, miss y/n l/n," he grinned and oh my oh my, y/n felt her heart skipping beats all over again. fred was worried when there was silence, but he was pleasantly surprised when he felt arms wrap as much as they could around his waist. true to his nature, his cheeks turned as red as his hair. he breathed in the smell of her hair, the smell of her and oh he had missed her so much. "i missed you a lot," he mumbled, tightening his grip around her, "so so so so so much." "me too, freddie," there that nickname was, and it made him possibly weak at how pretty she was and how pretty her voice was. when she let go, he almost felt empty, and so he snaked an arm around her waist. "your place is so beautiful, freddie!" his secret was that he had bought it hoping that she would

live with him. he knew she loved beautiful windows and bay windows and balconies. "not as beautiful as you, lovely." and his eyes were graced by her flustered expression, her cheeks tinted the most delightful shade of pink. "but the windows! gosh they're pretty." "wanna live with me?" he dropped the question ever so casually. "are you sure? i've got an apartment set up and all so it's no big deal-" "no. i want you to live with me." "then your wish is my command, i guess. i don't have much stuff though." "that's fine! i knew you would say yes so i got a bedroom ready for you." she hesitated. fred looked at her. "is everything okay?" "i-i don't want you to think that i'm best friends with you because you're rich or whatever and i feel like i'm taking advantage of your richness and it's not right?" "you're not, okay?" she nodded, still hesitating a little bit. "if you really feel bad you can come visit me and george in the shop and do some type of customer service. you'll be paid." "am i paying rent if i live here?" she asked. "no, y/n, i own this place." "don't you pay land tax?" "yeah, but it's not that much." "nope, i'm paying rent or you're not paying me for the shifts i do. or both. take your pick." "i won't pay you for the shifts. is this really a big deal?" "yes it is! it's money and morals. that's a very big deal." "okay, fair." "gimme a list of all my shifts please." "nah, you pop in whenever you can." "okay, when's rush hour?" "hogsmeade weekends and thursdays." ☆ it was night. y/n couldn't sleep at all. she was lying in the insanely boujee king sized bed and the insanely comfortable sheets, and she still couldn't fathom why she couldn't sleep. maybe it was because she always slept with one eye open in albania. habit. so she was just sitting in her bed, looking around the room. she was tired, but she couldn't be untired. and it would be selfish to disturb fred. but he had said his door was always open. so she crept out and made her way through the corridors, finally stopping at a door which she hoped was fred's bedroom. it was half ajar, so she peeked her head around it. he was asleep, a very thin blanket draped carelessly around his body, his ginger hair messy and his chest rising with every peaceful breath he took. his room was big and simple, cluttered in the most fred way. she approached him, tapping him on the shoulder lightly. "freddie??" he opened his eyes drowsily, "mmm?" "i can't sleep." "'ave you tried countin' broomst'cks?" "i can't sleep." "'kay," he pulled her into his bed, wrapping his arms around y/n and tucking most of the gryffindor red blanket under her chin. it smelled like him, "this 'kay?" fred was shirtless. y/n was blushing. "yeah." "mm, have a good night, okay? i'm here, you're safe." y/n nodded, feeling the most comfortable she had in two whole years, cuddling up to his chest as she fell into sleep. sleep. she hadn't properly slept in two whole years. every night would be spent either patrolling or anxiously preparing for the next day. when she did get some shut-eye, it was broken and restless. but her dreams were stopped with visions of terrifying death eaters casting sectumsempra onto the auror unit. she felt the pain she had endured through a long time ago. it left a scar on her back and imprints in her mind. it was impossible to forget. she remembered yelling as she saw another auror drop dead. running, running out of the hellhole of the death eater's base. "y/n, y/n," fred was shaking her awake. she was shaking, tears were running down her face. she fervently apologised to him. "don't say sorry, lovely," he wiped the tears off of her face, "what was your dream about?" "t-the mission, the death eaters w-were cutting people up and they got me." "oh darling, why didn't you tell me this before?" he asked gently, cradling her head to his chest. "it, it comes out at the worst times." "well you're not in albania anymore, okay, love? you're here, in london, and you're safe. you're okay, you're fine." she nodded, "sorry." "don't you dare,

it isn't your fault. sleep, okay? i'll wait for you to go to sleep before i do, yeah?" she nodded. her head fell onto his chest and fred traced gentle patterns on her back, whispering small nothings in her ear. for the first time, it seemed like fred could watch her without repercussions. even with her tear-stained cheeks and wild hair, she was beautiful. and when he had stayed up for hours into the night and morning for this girl, this was when he realised. he would do anything for her. he loved her.

[snelbz]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 23}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Saturdays. Occasional surprise chapters could be posted at miscellaneous times. Chapters will be posted on both my and Tara’s blogs! >> @tacmc.​

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Nesta was torn.

Half of her thought that Cassian was overreacting, but the other half of her thought that his anger and frustration was perfectly justified.

What exactly were they getting into? And, was it what was best for Nyx? Yeah, the last month had been great, but if it didn’t work out, what would that mean for him? Would it be better if she and Cassian had simply remained two friends, co-parenting under one roof?

Nesta’s heart began to beat a little faster.

She felt like she was going into a panic attack.

Cassian and Nyx had been gone for an hour, and every second that passed became more and more unbearable.

She needed him to be there.

She needed to figure this out.

She just didn’t know what the answer was.

Alis had gotten into her head, there was no doubt about that. A little over an hour ago, she was living in a dream, then Alis came in, out of nowhere, and brought her back to reality.

She was sitting on the couch, almost exactly where he’d left her, when he finally returned. He was covered in sweat, his t-shirt sticking to him. Nyx was having a conversation with him, more to himself though, since it didn’t seem like Cassian was even close to paying attention to him. But his eyes went directly to Nesta as soon as he walked in.

She’d changed. She no longer wore his t-shirt, instead in a loose shirt of her own and a pair of jeans, and her hair was loose and wet around her face. As if she’d need to shower their night together, shower him off of her. Not a shred of that beautiful skin was showing, not like she’d been doing lately. Leggings and shorts and tank tops. She’d been comfortable around him.

With a scoff, Cassian set Nyx down on the floor. He headed for the stairs, but Nesta stood, nearly toppling the cup of coffee she’d been clutching over as she set it on the coffee table. “Cassian, we need to talk about this.”

He paused, waving a hand towards her. “What for? It looks like you’ve already made your decision.”

“I need you to calm down,” she said, steadily. “I need you to think logically.”

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I need you to tell me.”

Nesta hesitated. “Tell you what?”

“If this is something you want to pursue or if I just wasted the last couple months falling in love with you,” he finished.

His voice may have lacked emotion, but Nesta felt every word like a stab in the chest. Falling in love with you. Those were the words she was going to tell him today, under much different circumstances.

Now, she didn’t know what to think.

Now, she was overwhelmed.

Now, all of her thoughts were rushing toward the same spot in the middle of her skull at a thousand miles an hour, and when they got there, her head would explode.

“It’s not that easy,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“But it should be,” Cassian said. “If you feel the way that I do, it should be that easy.”

“We have to think of Nyx,” she breathed.

“I am thinking of Nyx,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. At the sound of his name, the baby turned to look at him. “I want him to grow up in a happy home, seeing two people who love each other, and damn it if that isn’t how it’s been for the past few weeks.”

“It’s not that simple,” Nesta said, shaking her head. “What happens if we break up? What happens if we get in a fight or something happens to one of us? What then?”

He had strode down the stairs and was in front of her before he could stop himself. He framed her face in his hands, like he had so many times the past month, to kiss her, to make love to her, to show her how he cared for her. “Why are you worrying about the what if’s? Why are you worrying about what could go wrong, rather than how right everything has been?”

Because everything goes wrong eventually. The only reason we’re together is because we were shoved into this house after the worst thing imaginable happened. They died. We took over. What right do we have to be happy?

The words flooded her mind, but stilled on her tongue.

Nesta didn’t push him away. She wanted to reach up on her toes and kiss him, softly, but she didn’t.

Instead, she met his gaze. “Cass,” she breathed.

The pain in his eyes nearly shattered her heart into a million pieces.

Nyx had walked up to them and was hugging Nesta’s leg, as if he knew that she needed the comfort.

“Dont say my name like that,” he whispered.

Nesta slowly shook her head. “I just think this has all happened too quickly. We haven’t been thinking, we’ve just been acting-.”

“You’re pushing me away,” Cassian interrupted, swallowing harshly. “Damn it, Nesta.”

“You don’t understand,” she pleaded.

“Because you’re not making sense,” he argued. “Things have been perfect—”

“They’re dead!” She cried, pulling from his grip, scooping Nyx up. “Things have been far from perfect. We’re only like this now because Rhys and Feyre are dead.”

The words seemed to freeze something inside of Cassian and he stepped back as well. “So what? We go back to how we used to be? I’m back in the guest room and we awkwardly exchange good mornings over breakfast?��

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of him, the scent of him, everything. “I don’t know, Cassian, I don’t—.” She took a shuddering breath, her arms wrapping tighter around Nyx. “I just need some time to think, to breathe…”

When she looked back up at him, his jaw was set and he was slowly nodding. “Fine. Take your time.”

And then he was moving, back up the stairs before Nesta could even ask what he was doing.

A few minutes later, he was back with a duffle bag in his hands.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

“Giving you space,” he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

Nesta opened her mouth but nothing came out. She was frozen where she stood, her feet stuck to the floor, her mouth hanging open, that panic rising from the pit of her stomach into her heart, which was beating far too quickly.

Cassian kissed Nyx on the forehead as he passed, but paid Nesta no mind as he went for the door.

“Cassian!” She called, at last.

Cassian stopped just in front of the door, keeping his back to her, one hand on the doorknob.

“You're just going to leave?” She asked, quietly, bouncing a sleepy Nyx on her hip. “Just like that?”

Cassian didn’t turn around. “Are you going to ask me to stay?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. Nesta said nothing.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he grumbled, exhaustion lacing his tone. “Maybe I need time to think, too.”

He opened the door and shut it softly behind him.

*

He didn’t know where else to go. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.

He knew where he wanted to be, but right now…

He couldn’t look at her.

It didn’t escape him that when he’d told her he’d fallen in love with her, she didn’t say it back. He couldn’t even act like he hadn’t seen her eyes flare in panic. So he couldn’t stay there. Couldn’t go back to sleeping in that guest room, not when he’d become so used to sleeping with her in his arms every night.

So Cassian had ended up here, knocking on his brother’s door, thankful that his car had been parked in the driveway when he pulled up.

He needed a drink. He needed someone to tell him he was being an asshole. He needed someone to listen while he vented and bitched. He knew Azriel would do all that for him.

When he answered the door, Seph was in his arms, pulling on his bottom lip. She smiled when she saw Cassian, but Azriel’s surprised smile quickly faded.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, looking at the duffel bag tossed over Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Azriel stared at him for a second before stepping aside and letting Cassian pass.

“Are we talking about this now or later?” Azriel asked, shutting the door behind them.

“Beer?” Cassian asked, dropping his bag beside the couch.

“Fridge,” Azriel said, slowly, watching him.

Cassian made his way to the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door, grabbing a cold bottle and chugging its contents.

Azriel followed, leaning against the countertop and Seph continued to play with his lips.

“Where’s Elain?” Cassian asked, tossing the empty bottle into the trash and getting another.

“Work,” Azriel said, sighing. “So, if this involves smack talking Nesta, you may want to get it out now.”

He shook his head. He didn’t want to do that, barely wanted to think about her. But he owed Azriel at least some explanation.

“The social worker stopped by this morning,” he sighed, leaning back against the counter and opening the beer. “And honestly, yeah, it was unexpected, but I figured it’d be fine. Last time, Nes was drunk off her ass, but we— I figured, since we were more of a family this time, things would be great.”

Azriel blinked. “They’re not taking Nyx, are they?”

Another shake of his head. “No, gods, no. They— She could tell he was in good hands, but she immediately picked up on Nesta and I. What we’ve…become.”

It seemed, just like Cassian, Azriel didn’t see it as a problem. He wasn’t following. “And?”

“And Nyx was hungry so I left the social worker and Nesta alone to get him breakfast. I came back and she’s gone and Nesta is second-guessing our relationship. She asked if I’m just fucking her out of convenience.”

The thought made him sick to his stomach, almost as badly as it hurt his heart.

“And you replied with…” Azriel began, trailing off, waiting for Cassian to finish the sentence.

“I went for a jog,” Cassian said, shrugging.

“So you ran away?” Azriel pushed.

Cassian shot him a look. “No. I went for a jog.”

Azriel sighed. “And when you came back?”

“She said she needed space,” Cassian said, emptying his bottle.

Azriel set Seph on the floor with a plastic spatula, which she instantly start banging on the cabinets. “And that’s when you ran away?”

“I didn’t run,” Cassian snapped. “I gave her what she wanted. I gave her space.”

Azriel slowly shook his head. “Did you even try to talk things out?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, the word clipped. “Told her I was falling in love with her, and guess how she replied?”

Azriel watched his brother.

“Didn’t say a fucking word,” Cassian finished.

When Azriel didn’t speak, he walked back to the trash can, dropping the bottle inside.

“Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here,” he said, unable to turn around and look his brother in the eye. “She was ending it. She was calling things off and I’m supposed to, what? Just keep living there like we were before? Pretend nothing has changed?” He swallowed hard, willing the damn tears clouding his vision to fade. They wouldn’t. “She didn’t even ask me to stay.”

Azriel sighed, opening a cabinet beside the fridge that Seph couldn’t reach. He produced a bottle of whiskey and set it on the counter. “I can’t drink until Elain gets home. And I absolutely think you need to talk to Nesta, but I think you’re right. You need to stay here tonight. Give her space.”

Cassian blinked, and a tear that was holding on slid free, down his cheek. He angrily wiped it away. He felt ridiculous, but it had been a long time since he had told a woman that he loved her. He’d never said it in his adulthood. A couple times in his teens, before he knew what the word really meant, but never as an adult.

He’d said it.

He’d meant it.

And she hadn’t felt the same.

Cassian nodded and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

*

Nesta stared at Cassian’s contact on her phone screen.

She wanted to press the call button, but didn’t.

She did open a blank text a few times, but couldn’t type anything.

She didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do.

She knew what she wanted.

She wanted Cassian.

But, she didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

She had never been one who was dependent on a man, had spent most of her twenties single and having no problem with it. But suddenly, she couldn’t imagine her day to day life without Cassian in it. And that terrified her.

She heard murmuring on the baby monitor sitting next to her on the side table and glanced over to see Nyx sitting up in his crib.

It had been nearly three hours since Cassian left, and aside from putting Nyx down for a nap, Nesta had barely moved. She still sat in the same spot on the couch she’d been in when the social worker had shown up and when she’d ignored that Cassian had said that he loved her.

The words should have filled her with joy and she should have screamed from the rooftops that she loved him, too. Instead she locked up and thought she was going to be sick.

What was wrong with her?

Wiping away the tears she didn’t even realize had fallen, Nesta hurried up the stairs, and into Nyx’s nursery. He reached for her the moment he saw her, his own big, blue eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“What’s wrong, bubba?” She cooed, resting his head against her shoulder.

After a deep sigh, he looked up at her and reached for a tear that had fallen down her cheek. His lip began to wobble.

“I’m okay,” Nesta promised, even though her voice cracked and those tears continued. “I’m okay, buddy, I promise.”

Nyx knew, though.

He knew something wasn’t right.

He knew Cassian was gone.

He knew Nesta was heartbroken.

Little did he know that her heartbreak was self-inflicted.

Nyx laid his head back on her shoulder and clung to her. He stayed like that as she walked back downstairs and sat back in her spot on the couch.

He held onto her, looking around the room. She knew he was looking for him and was about to tell him he wasn’t here when he spoke. The word wasn’t a mash up of noises like it had always been. No, it was a true and steady word. His first word.

“Dada?”

Nesta froze. She didn’t even know what to say. Should she tell him Cassian wasn’t his father? He probably wouldn’t even understand, just like he didn’t understand where Rhys and Feyre had gone.

But…for all intents and purposes, Cassian was his daddy now. And she was his mama.

So she pressed a kiss to his dark hair and whispered. “He had to leave, baby. He had to go for a little while.”

Nesta hoped and prayed that Cassian would walk back through that door, and yet, she couldn’t muster the courage to ask him to.

That night, instead of Cassian taking up the spot next to her, it was Nyx, who held her hand until they both fell asleep.

[everysongineverykey]

genuinely how am i supposed to function normally when long away is a song that exists

[etheraella]

Lies Between Ties || Part I ||

(Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader)

Summary : Y/N and Draco caught themselves in an arranged marriage by their parents, they both try and act like a happy married couple infront of their families, when in reality they made an agreement to not cross each other’s space and treat each other as ‘roommates’. What happens when one unknowingly gains feelings?

Warnings : No War/Voldemort!AU, Arranged Marriage, Slowburn, Unrequited Love (?), Angst, Arguing, slight cursing.

Your eyes widen in shock, not believing what the woman you respected all your life had just said. You scoffed in disbelief as your mother puts her welcoming hand on yours in comfort. "Very funny, Mama."

She frowned, holding back a smile. "Y/N, this is not a joke, I think it's for the best if you marry him, Narcissa-"

"I know she's your friend, Mama. But I don't even know him, we've never exchanged a conversation, and it's best if we keep it that way." You got up ready to leave the conversation. Unfortunately, your mother grabbed your wrist softly before you could do so.

"Y/N please, the Malfoys can give you the life I could never give you, and I'm getting older, sooner or later when I'm gone, somebody is going to have and help me look after you. At least with the Malfoys’ I know you'd be in good hands." She confessed with sadness in her voice, the grip on your wrist getting firmer.

"Please don't say that, ma. I would want to get married but not anytime soon. I've only just graduated Hogwarts, and who's going to take care of you?"

"Your stepfather is retiring soon, we'll just be here at home and you can come visit us after you and Draco have settled,"

You squinted the moment Draco's name left your mothers lips. Sure, the two have never said a word to each other, but he was known for his boastful and rich background. Everyone in Hogwarts would've known the Slytherin Prince. Though, that never interest you. He probably never knew who you were anyway.

"I never said I agreed to it." you finally said not meeting her gaze.

"Francis and I have already agreed to the Malfoys, dear. The wedding is to be held in 3 months, please Y/N for the sake of mine, you'll learn to accept Draco and there's no doubt the two of you will be happy together." She smiled kissing your forehead lovingly before getting up to leave.

“but with what certainty?”

the words were in a whisper that were only heard by you.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

The sound of birds chirping and peaceful leaves rustling filled your ears. Memories of the conversation filled your head. Out of everyone in the whole world, why Draco Malfoy? What does he think of this ridiculous arrangement? With less than 2 months, the two of you have never met since you saw him back at Hogwarts, and tonight would be the first time the two of you would meet after the marriage conversation. Just then you heard the sound of footsteps and your mother appeared in the doorway.

"Come inside and get ready, dear."

That night, you sat opposite of Draco for dinner, you daren't lift your gaze to meet his. You knew the moment he entered your living room with a boring expression that he wasn't excited or fond on meeting you, or to even be wed to you. Well, so were you.

"Y/N, why don't you have a walk with Draco by the lake?" your mother says suddenly, smiling brightly between you and Draco.

"Yes, Mama" you say politely returning a fake smile, trying your best to hide your annoyance.

You walk with Draco in silence and you open your mouth every now and then trying to start a conversation. You didn’t realise the difference in your heights until you were side by side, Draco Malfoy was taller and much broader than you remember.

"Malfoy-"

Draco stops, meeting your eyes before averting his gaze to the lake on his left.

"I’m not sure It’s wise to use surnames considering the situation we're in.”

Taken aback, you were surprised he was even suggesting this, the Draco Malfoy in front of you seemed more mature than the Malfoy you knew of in school.

"And what situation do you take this as?"

"- A situation that shouldn't happen in the first place. If you only hadn't agreed to it."

You couldn't believe your ears at his absurd accusation. His voice calm but firm at the same time, looking at you as if you're something a cat dragged in.

"Me? You think I want to marry you?" You gave a short laugh. "Your parents sent the proposal first and you blame this on me? For Godric's sake, I don't even know you nor do I have any feelings for you. I'm only following my mother's desires, Draco Malfoy."

"I can guarantee you, the feeling’s mutual." he said through gritted teeth followed by an awkward silence as two of you continue your walk. You stared at your shoes with each step, trying to think of a sentence that will make him help you cancel the wedding. You couldn't bare marrying someone you don't love, especially someone with a big ego like Draco’s. No, never in a million years.

"Mal- Draco, I didn’t intend to ask you upon this favour, as we both know how ridiculous this arrangement is. Please convince Narcissa and Lucius to call it off. It's not too late, considering you're a man-"

"As much as I would love that, Y/N. I would never want to break my mother's heart, I don't bloody care if you call it off, it's perfectly fine with me. We'll discuss this again after the wedding." He said, rolling his eyes and walking back to the house leaving you alone.

You blink in shock, your eyes following his walking figure, his silver blond hair visible under the moonlight. That bastard! Why would he think it's any better after the wedding? Sighing in disappointment, you slumped on the bench facing the lake, the darkness of the night swallowing you.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

"You are to be MARRIED to Draco?" Jane's eyes widen in shock, she stood up facing you, her pupils searching for yours trying to find mischief. To her prevail, you were dead serious and that got her sitting back on the chair slowly.

"But - I thought you wanted to be a healer-"

"I do, I can be a healer while married. I wouldn't need permission to pursue my dream career, would I?" You sighed, staring at the wand in your hand. Jane has been your best friend ever since the two of you got sorted in the same house back in Hogwarts. You wanted her to be your bridesmaid. Knowing how grand the Malfoy's are, it makes sense how big they want this wedding to be, considering Draco's the only Malfoy heir. You didn't know what to think of it, ever since you were a child, you had always dreamt of how you wanted your wedding to be, you didn't mind how the reception would look, how flowy your dress would be, as long as it's with friends and relatives, and a person you're in love with.

Jane was silent for several seconds. "Oh Y/N...but Draco Malfoy?"

"YES JANE! What other Dracos do you know of?" You roll your eyes in irritation, hating the fact of being reminded of marrying a bloke like him. Jane sighed and looked at you with sympathy,

“But, I’m afraid your mother’s right.. there’s no denying the Malfoys are rich-“

You snorted. “richly arrogant”

The silver band on your ring finger brimmed. The mere thought of you being engaged was still unbelievable, so is the oncoming wedding. Feeling frustrated, you terribly wanted to pull your hair out.

“Jane, I have an idea.. perhaps on the wedding day, you could wear a long veil and take my place instead-“ You randomly suggest.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Are you mad? We both know your absurd schemes are never going to work,” Jane smiled sadly, gripping your hand in hers.

You sighed in disappointment, praying deep down the wedding would be disastrous or a random fire would begin before the vows, yes, it was a childishly dangerous thought but you were willing to escape this arrangement without hurting your mother’s feelings.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

On the wedding day, of course the unfortunate events you hoped for didn’t occur. You weren’t as devastated as you thought you would be when you woke up that morning, wrapping sheets of mattress around yourself. It could be that you were finally accepting your fate, you groaned at the thought. In 24 hours, you would be ‘Mrs. Malfoy’, how grand.

The dress that was altered for you was beautiful, you couldn’t take your eyes off it. The white material felt light and gorgeous under your fingertips. Jane had repeatedly told you how breath-taking you looked, you didn’t deny that.

Before the event began, Narcissa had come in your dressing room with an amber green leathered box. Seeing your future mother in-law made you awfully nervous, even if you weren’t whole heartedly willing to marry her son. You quickly pushed the guilt away when she cupped your hands in hers.

“Oh Merlin, you look lovely Y/N,” She said with a smile before opening the box, revealing a heavenly beautiful bracelet the Malfoy initials carved in golden. You let Narcissa gently put it on you telling you of the Malfoy heirloom’s history. The bracelet was given to wear on special occasions, the heirloom given down to each heir on the wedding day.

The piano started playing as you entered the hall, guests arise to their feet, staring at you in awe. Your mother stood at the end of the hall with Francis; happiness laced with sadness painted on her expressions, seeing her only child in white walking down the aisle. Your eyes wander along the decorations in the hall before landing on Draco. He looked undeniably handsome, his platinum blonde hair neatly combed as always, expression unreadable.

When the rings and vows were exchanged the hall erupted in an applause. You looked up to see Draco looking at you with a fake smile etched on his face, the sounds of cheering suddenly muted. It was all an act, you remind yourself.

.

.

A/N : —Luna here ! I decided to start a series ;) and..a special appreciation to Celeste for being my trusty editor !! If you enjoy this please reblog/share 👉🏼👈🏼🥺. We made a taglist form that can be found on our bio and here [x].

Taglist 🏷 : @amourtentiaa

[yoonpobs]

cold | pjm

pairing: park jimin x oc

genre: fluff, slight tsundere jimin, just cuteness tbh

words: 3, 339

summary: where jimin is ice cold but he wants you to warm him up (not in the way you think)

When Jimin pulls away for the first time in a year since you’ve met him during your movie nights, you suspect that something’s up. But, you also know Jimin—he would have said something to you if there was.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You good?”

Jimin sighs at you, frustrated and you can’t help but feel confused at the sudden shift of atmosphere. You thought picking La La Land was a good choice, but you suppose that since Jimin was a little emotionally constipated he didn’t like it as much.

“I’m not, actually.” He declares, tugging off the blanket that covered both of your lower halves and withdrew from the warmth that settled into the couch.

“Do you—” You contemplate on asking because being Jimin’s friend meant respecting certain boundaries, and you weren't intending to be that friend that stuck their nose in his business.

You choose to remain silent and purse your lips and settle back into the couch, though it felt a little empty without Jimin bunched up next to you. But he was an enigma of unopened thoughts, and the time you spent navigating the course of your friendship in the first few months was ... heavy.

He’d never tell you anything, let alone allow you to indulge in the greatness that was his mind. You’d always hear from Namjoon how much he looks up to and respects Jimin’s way of thinking and mindset, but you rarely get to see that part of him. Sometimes, you felt more of a seat-warmer than a friend. You appreciate him, nonetheless.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about it?” He pries you.

You shrug, covering yourself with the blanket in hopes that it masks your vulnerability and insecurity, too.

“I know you.” You tell him, “You don’t like being questioned unless you say something about it first.”

He purses his lips in a straight line and looks at you ... like he really looks at you. So much that you feel his eyes burning into the side of your head; as if he was attempting to unravel your mind and dig into its deepest depths to understand its content.

“I don’t …” He says after looking at you, head-turning to face the television. Was La La Land seriously still relevant now?

“But I’m asking you to ask me.” He says, and the look of surprise on your face doesn’t disappoint. You gaped at him, forgetting the fact that Ryan Gosling looked really handsome on the screen—because Jimin had just prompted you to ask him about his … feelings.

“I—I don’t understand …” You say, dumbly. He rolls his eyes at you, and you’re familiar with his expression because it’s the one he usually has when he wants to call you an idiot.

“Ask me how I feel.”

You open your mouth, then close it. Your words fail you because the entire situation was sprung onto you so unexpectedly, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about everything. Was this Jimin’s way of assessing you as a friend and throwing you to the curb after a year of being platonically involved with one another?

As if he could hear the millions of thoughts running in your head, he turns to you and grabs your cheeks in between his large palms, and this time you actually short-circuit.

Your intimacy with Jimin stopped at sitting next to each other during movie nights and embracing the warmth that your bodies radiated. Maybe even the occasional accidental brush of fingers when he hands you something, but besides that—Jimin was conservative with his touches.

You can’t lie and say that your heart doesn’t react differently, because for the most part of your friendship you’ve suppressed any romantic feelings that you had or could have had for Jimin. Mostly out of self-preservation because Jimin was just … Jimin.

Cold, aloof but still someone that cared deeply. Yes, he was emotionally constipated when it came to his own feelings, and yes —his gaze more often than not had you cowering in fear. But he never made you feel uncomfortable. Even in the silences, you spent with one another you felt safe. Home.

Not to mention, his entire brooding and stoic persona hit it really well with the women on campus—and the fact he was obscenely attractive. He and you were the types of people that remained just as friends. And suddenly, that could end tonight, too.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He hums, eyes chasing your own but you divert your attention away from him because your eyes tell.

You shake your head, “I’m just confused.”

And confused you were because this was a territory that was unheard of for you—much less for Jimin. If only you could telepathically speak to Namjoon right now because you had no idea what to do or say.

“Well, I’ll keep it simple for you,” He says, “ Ask me how I feel.”

He doesn’t ask you anymore, instead, he insists—as if there was a preconceived answer for you already in the back of his head. Maybe this was how he softened the blow.

“No.” You push him away, flustered. “I won’t let you friend break up with me like this!”

He raises an eyebrow at the sudden rise of voice you admitted, “I like being your friend even if you don’t—and—and I know that yeah, consent matters—but I do not consent to be friend broken up with.”

He listens to you, and his face is still in its signature blankness and you nearly scream at how you wished he’d display a little emotion or a reaction to your blow up. But it seems that between the two of you, you were the emotionally unstable one.

“I know I can be annoying and all over the place and loud but ...” You immediately opt to self-deprecate yourself because nothing could triumph the way it felt to do it yourself than have him say it to your face, “... you’re not allowed to leave me. Ever .”

You fold your arms across your chest and look away because what the fuck did you just do and your face was undebatably on fire right now.

As if he’s noticed the way your eyes widen in realisation, he holds you again—but this time he pulls you closer to his chest until you are forced to look up at him with your flushed cheeks.

“Silly girl.” He hums and you whine.

“What!”

“I have to do everything myself, hm?” He tucks a strand of stray hair behind your ears and it was instinctual for you to pull away because you’ve never felt Jimin like this before. Close, and warm—and all yours.

“Jimin I don’t understand— mpf!” And it was like a scene straight out of a romcom, and you nearly forget that La La Land was still running in the background. You felt like the main character of your own movie, and Jimin was the protagonist's love interest because he kissed you.

Jimin was kissing you.

Kissing. Like lip-locking. Sharing saliva. With you.

He pulls away too soon for your liking, but you gape at him like a fish out of water.

“You—” You stutter, and he chuckles. You feel it more than you hear it because his chest was resting against your cheek.

“Do you understand now?”

You shake your head, “... you feel bad for me?”

He snorts.

“I don’t know if you’re actually this much of an idiot, or are you just hopeless in the romantic department?” He says, and you open your mouth in the offense, ready to defend yourself but he hugs you closer to him and all you could feel was him.

“Excuse me? I’m not an idiot.”

“I just kissed you and you thought I felt bad for you.”

You huff, “What am I supposed to feel! You never speak about your emotions to me, and the most I’ve ever got out from you was a chuckle from the time where I slipped in front of the entire campus during freshers week.”

“That was when we met, yes.” He hums, “Why did you think I’ve been with you ever since?”

You still looked confused and Jimin internally sighs at the way he let himself fall for a dense excuse of a human being like you.

“Cause … you felt 'bad for me?”

"Just because you air-quote it doesn't make it any different from what you said earlier ____."

He groans, “No you dumbass—it’s cause no one makes me feel things the way you do. Strange weirdo who slipped on absolutely nothing, and as a friend who forces me to watch shitty romcoms like La La Land.”

“La La Land is not shitty!” You gasp.

He blinks.

“Is that all you got from what I said?”

“La La Land is phenomenal! All from the artistic production, to the soundtrack—so I don't know why people keep shitting on it because personally I really enjoyed—” But he kisses you again, and you melt into him immediately.

This time he lingers for a bit longer, and when he pulls away you grab onto his shirt to keep him close. You realise your mistake and suddenly push him away, but his hold on you was tight enough to resist your poor attempt.

“I like you, dummy.” He says, and you gasp.

“Nooo.” You say in disbelief.

“I like you.” He emphasises again, and you gasp. Again.

“No, you don’t.” You tell him, and he sighs—knowing that this was going to take a while.

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do .”

“Nope.”

“ Yes .”

“Nuh-uh—!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth and glares at you.

“Me. Park Jimin—likes you, ____ ____, and yes —I can’t believe I like a complete idiot like you, but I do because you fucked up and made me like you from the moment you embarrassed yourself in front of everyone so bad that it was probably the hardest I’ve ever cringed in my life—”

“Hey!”

“—but you quite literally stumbled into my life with your whirlwind of emotions and you made me feel things that I’ve tried to avoid my entire life.” He holds your chin between his thumb and finger so you’d look at him. And you know that Jimin never lies, but something in your heart doesn't allow you that moment of happiness for yourself.

“But I'm annoying …” You say, a little unsure. Jimin simply looks at you, and you're frustrated again at the lack of emotion on his face.

“Yes, you are.” Is all he says, and you gape at his audacity.

You huff, throw the blanket off your body and make way to grab at your belongings that lay idle on the floor next to the couch. You pulled away from Jimin who attempted to grab at your wrist and glare at him so vehemently that he looked taken aback.

“This isn't a joke.” You tell him, and you hoped you looked as strong as you sounded because you felt played. Jimin didn't do this—you were just the clumsy freshmen that somehow befriended him, and he had no way out of it. So you decided to give him a way out on your own.

“Wait—of course, it's not—where are you going?” He exasperates when you make a beeline go to his door. You've never seen Jimin move as quickly as he did, but he manages to secure a tight grip on your elbow.

You try to shove him aside all while you felt like an immense idiot for allowing yourself to feel this way. To feel so human, and raw when you were with Jimin when he hadn't shown an inkling of emotion even when he declared that he ‘liked’ you.

“____—what’s wrong? Is it because I kissed you without asking you? I'm sorry but— ” He apologises and you groan.

“Stop treating me like this!” You yell at him to cut him off, “I know I'm clumsy, and a ditz—but I have feelings and it's not cool how you're doing all of—” You gesture to the hand on your elbow and to your lips, “— this, making me feel things that I shouldn't be feeling.”

“You're missing the point—!”

“Am I Jimin?” You exasperate, and he lets go of you for a moment to allow you space. “You've never shown any sign that you liked me for the past year of being friends, and now you're telling me you do?”

You scoff, “If you wanted out of this friendship, here it is.”

You reach to his doorknob with your back turned towards him, but Jimin was far stronger than you and reached out at the same time; essentially locking you into your position with nowhere to go.

“Just let me go,” You sigh, “I'm giving you your out.”

Jimin turns your body to face him and you avoid his stare. He was taller than you so being locked against the door was a little intimidating, given the fact that Jimin’s stare was nothing short of intimidating.

“Why would I want out?” He asks you, and you blink at him as if he's grown a second head.

“Now you're just treating me like I'm stupid .” You pout, “Did you not hear what I said? I know I'm annoying and I'll get out of your hair, just let me go—!”

You pull at his wrist but he holds you tighter and uses his other hand to softly grab at your cheeks to look at him. You stare at him with wide eyes and mouth scrunched like a fish, and you're sure this doesn't look the least bit flattering at all.

“Dude!”

“Please don't dude me after I just said I liked you.” He grimaces, then sighs.

He proceeds to clamp his hand over your mouth, “Now I need you to listen to me. And I mean— really listen. Not the thing that you do where you completely ignore my point and go on some childish rampage of how I think you’re annoying and want out.”

You glare at him.

He sighs, “I don't know how explicit I have to be—but I like you. I like your presence, I like hanging out with you—and I want to date you. I want everything that's in the book of romance and relationships with you.”

Your eyes widened and you attempt to speak but he clamps down harder than you whine.

“I know I'm an emotionless brick but I've been with you for the past year and my physical presence is the way I show you that I like you.”

You blink.

“And, I don't know if you've noticed but I've been inviting you over every fortnight just to cuddle up next to you to watch movies that are cheesy as fuck because I know that it makes your heart flutter—” He looks straight into your eyes and you're sure he can feel the heat of your cheeks on his hand.

“—I didn’t say this earlier because I was under the impression that you were aware and that we were kind-of-dating but not really— clearly, I was wrong.”

You manage to rip his hand off in his moment of weakness and gasp, “Kind-of-dating? Since when did that even happen?!”

He pointedly looks at you, “You have a toothbrush at my place, half of your closet is in mine—you walk my dog when I'm not home, and I buy your favourite cereal when I do groceries.”

“But—”

“Nope—the only reason I explicitly told you tonight because it was now clear to me that you weren't aware—” He gestures to your frazzled state, “—and that you said you were going out with Taehyung. Alone. To a pizza parlour.”

You barely manage to respond because he exasperates, “Do you know how datey a pizza parlour is?”

You gape at him, “Well excuse me! I didn't even know we were kind-of-dating until a minute ago!”

He glares at you, “And you didn't even believe me when I told you I liked you.”

You fold your arms across your chest, “Obviously. You don't even hold my hand, and you've never kissed me until tonight.”

You punch his shoulder and he hisses, “You didn't even formally ask me out!”

“You’re a scaredy-cat and if I did ask you out you’d probably run away from me!” He exasperates with his hands in the air.

“I’m not a scaredy-cat and I won’t run away!” You argue back and you were suddenly aware of how close he was to you.

You look up at him and notice how pretty his eyelashes were, and how he does look at you with an intimacy that you've only seen for yourself. The look that he reserved for you.

“I'm asking you out now,” He whispers, cupping your cheek.

“Date me. Be with me.”

You scoff, “God. Can’t you even be a little romantic? It’s like you’re demanding me to be with you.” You respond petulantly like a child.

He groans, “I'm not going to grovel you if that's what you're expecting.”

“Tell me why then.”

He raises an eyebrow.

You clear your throat and fiddle with your thumbs, a nervous tick you have.

“Tell me why you like me.”

Jimin stares at you and you want to complain about his stoic expression but he cups your cheeks in his hands a little harder and forces you to really look at him—as if his face held all the answers.

And when you did, you see the desperation behind his eyes, the dedication that he possesses only for you. The way he looks at you like he's meant to prove something to you, and then everything made sense to you—he wasn't inexpressive—you were just too caught up in your own world that you never noticed.

“Jimin—” Your voice cracks but he shushes you, softly.

“Listen to me, okay?” He asks of you and you gently nod.

“I like you because you're here,” He starts off and you were about to scoff but he speaks again knowing your predetermined reaction, “You’re present— always. I don't mean just because we're always together, but because even when we're texting you're there. You're involved.”

“You're expressive in ways that don't need words to tell me anything, which is why I know you like me too.”

“Cocky, much?” You scoff but the burn on your cheeks give the truth away

He smiles a little before continuing, “But that's not it—I like you because you're patient. You stuck with me being emotionally constipated for the first half of our friendship, and yet you're still here.”

“Even though you nearly ran out of here spewing some bullshit about me taking you as a joke—”

“Okay … I may have blown it out of proportion.”

“—but I wouldn't want to have you any other way. Even if it took me literally trapping you against a door for you to listen.”

You melt into his touch and look up at him, “Do you really like me?”

“I really do.” He affirms you, and you tug him closer to bury your head into his chest.

“Can you hold my hand next time?” You ask, softly. And he chuckles against the top of your head, caressing it gently.

“Of course. That's the only way you won't run away from me next time, right?” He teases.

You whine.

“I'm never going to let you go.” He tells you, “You're pretty like this—all mine .”

You smile up at him and Jimin swears his heart melts to be rebuilt whole by you again.

“But you called me an idiot ...”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

You gasp, “Rude—!”

He shuts you up with a kiss more passionate, and a lot more eager that has your head spinning.

When he pulls away, you feel your heartbeat a little faster—especially at the string of saliva that connects your mouths.

“Mine,” He says. You can't help but nod.

His.

[chanheeinc]

Love in a Slide (Juyeon One Shot)

Description: A Spin-off One Shot from THIS reaction post!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1431

You have known Juyeon since you two were 6, he stole your snack at lunch and you hated his guts until you were 16. Some say a ten year grudge is a little much, you say the jerk should have kept his hands to himself. He has since bought you many snacks, and stayed by your side no matter what. You two are together so often, your parents ask where he is if he didn’t come home with you that day or you didn’t go to his. After he debuted, you figured you wouldn’t see him anymore, but he makes sure to facetime you every night and ask how your day went. Most days you ask how his went, unless you could see how upset he was about something. The first time you noticed Juyeon’s sad eyes is when you started dating a guy on the soccer team in highschool. You at the time assumed it was because he was too busy with training that he didn’t have time for the sport and that made him upset. You never got used to how gloomy he would be when your boyfriend was around, so you broke up with him. You told Juyeon it was because he refused to open the door for you, he thought the reason was funny and smiled again for the first time in a long time. Now when you see Juyeon’s sad eyes, you tell him a story of your clumsy adventures for the day, making him smile. Last night he called you with new sad eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You asked before you could even register the words leaving your mouth.

“What do you mean? I’m just a bit tired,do I look bad?” Juyeon rubbed his face.

“Honestly? You look a little rough buddy,” You tell him. “ When is your break?”

“Next week, we get two days off.”

“Come over to mine then! All of you, we can have a staycation!” You say enthusiastically.

Juyeon agrees that a staycation seems fun, The Boyz members all text you how excited they are to come. Your apartment lets you set up tents on the tennis court, since no one uses it anyways. You get camp foods and drinks, determined to make your friends have a good time, you spend your whole check on everything. By the time you get done stringing up lights, setting up the grill, and filling the coolers, The Boyz arrive with gifts in hand. You sprint to hug them, it has been about a year since you were next to Juyeon physically. Sangyeon ruffles your hair, Eric jumps in your arms, Hyunjae high-fives you, and Jacob hugs you tightly. Juyeon isn’t to be seen, you turn to ask where he is and met Juyeon’s eyes. He is squinting at you.

“Did you not see me?” He asks.

“Not even a little, how long have you been there?” You wrap your arms around him, bringing him into a hug. You rest your head on his chest as his arms snake around you.

“I got here first, maybe if you weren’t so entranced by Sangyeon you would have seen me.” You laugh at him and look up to see he isn’t smiling, odd.

“I guess I was just too excited to see everyone, sorry JuJu, don’t worry you are still my number one.” You see him smile slightly at that.

You grab Juyeon’s hand and skip to the campsite, The Boyz have already made themselves comfortable in the lawn chairs you set out. They all begin to talk about what has been going on since they last saw you. Changmin shows you pictures of his Chucky doll, Chanhee begs you to let him live with you, Sunwoo rests his head on your shoulder dramatically. Juyeon continues to hold your hand, not saying much. After Sangyeon tells some stories of everyone and Younghoon successfully falls over the lowered net about five times, it has gotten dark. You all enjoy a meal of grilled meat and down several drinks. After the dinner Kevin stands up and loudly asks to play Hide n Seek. You all eagerly agree, choosing Sangyeon to be it first. After four rounds you find yourself running for your life to the playground close to the Tennis Court, Juyeon deciding to join you like he has done for the previous rounds. This was always how you and he wound up playing games for school trips, never leaving each other’s side, you guess things haven’t changed much. You go through the bottom part of the slide, your legs being the only strong part about you so they can hold you up. Juyeon slides halfway down the entrance, his face inches from yours. You didn’t think anything of it, you’ve shared a bed with him several times, even a sleeping bag. You were so focused on listening for footsteps that you didn’t feel Juyeon’s eyes burning a hole in you. You finally glance at him to be startled by his serious face. Juyeon always gets serious around you when he has been drinking, something you forgot since you haven’t seen him in a while. His eyes flicker down for a second then back up, your heart pounding in your ears.

“I don’t think Jacob will find us for a while.” You say, voice cracking lightly..

“Hm?” Juyeon says.

“I said,” You begin to repeat yourself, Juyeon moving slightly closer to you, eyes looking lower again, you gulp.

“Jacob, not finding.” You sound like a caveman, Juyeon isn’t really listening anyways.

His face is close to yours, usually one of the two of you would jokingly make a fake vomit noise, but not tonight. He was inching closer to you, no room left. A second away from-

"Found you two!" Says Jacob.

You snap out of the daze the slide puts you in, Juyeon disappearing afterwards. The Boyz are tired from running around and all decide to crash, moving to their respected tents. You only bought four, three to a room. Jacob was supposed to share the tent with you and Juyeon, but he heads towards Kevin’s tent.

“Cobie, you're in my tent.” You stop him.

“I know, but since you haven't seen Juyeon in a while, I’ll give you two alone time.” Jacob smiles.

You thank him and help carry his things into the now crowded tent of Kevin, Eric, and Hyunjae. You unzip your tent to see Juyeon laying on his back. You flop down next to him, taking his hand. He hesitates to hold it, the first time that he has ever done so. You glance at him, his sad eyes are showing.

“The stars look lovely tonight.” You jokingly say looking up at the tents ceiling.

“I’m in love with you.” Juyeon says.

Your head turns so fast to look at him you hear it pop. His eyes are closed but you can see tears falling out of them. You sit up, letting go of Juyeon’s hand. “I Love you,” you’ve heard a million times, but “I’m in love with you,” is a new one. You grab the tissues you brought, dabbing the tears away from Juyeon’s eyes. You were close to his face again, just like in the slide. You don’t know if you love him or in love with him, you have never known. You always felt happy when he was around, you even liked when he hated your high school boyfriend, though you were unsure why. Maybe you are in love with him, maybe you’re selfish and just want him to love you.

“Are you sure?” You ask after a few minutes of silence, a dumb question but the only thing you can think of.

“Positive.” His voice cracks.

“For how long?” At this point you are stalling to make up your mind.

“I don’t know how long I’ve been in love, but I’ve had a crush on you since we were six. That’s why I stole your snack.” His eyes close harder, like that stops the tears and not pushes them out.

You laugh. Confused, he opens his eyes, tears falling even more rapidly. You cover your mouth, wiping away his tears. All of these emotions begin at a lunch time snack. You didn’t need any more time. You lean down and kiss him, he instantly kisses back. A thousand sparks shoot off through your body, he grabs you and pulls you closer. You pull away and rest your head on his chest, you can hear his rapid heartbeat. He lays his hand on your back, holding you close.

[nightshade-minho]

Alive Again

Warnings: necromancer!hyunjin, death, fingering, themes of satanism, necromancy, witchcraft etc.

Wc: 1.9k

There he was, again.

You let out a long, annoyed sigh as you watched from the shadows. Leaves crunching under your feet, you stepped out from behind the bush, having had enough.

"Hey!"

The man crouching before the gravestone glanced up, raising an eyebrow as his eyes landed on you. He looked you up and down, a small smirk growing on his features.

"Uh...can I help you?" He asked, straightening up and taking a step towards you. You immediately took one back, swallowing as you registered just how tall he is- he was basically towering over you.

Your words caught in your throat for a second as you tried to remember exactly why you'd been mad at him. His gaze, directed at you, was thick with intrigue and another emotion you can't decipher. It's throwing you off.

Your mouth opened and closed as the man rolled his eyes, turning around and heading back to the grave at your lack of response.

"Wait-"

He looked over his shoulder, his eyes cold this time. "What? Spit it out, little girl. I haven't got all night. In fact, you just interrupted my ritual."

Ritual? Suddenly, the candles and chalk circles on the tombstone made sense. You swallowed, mind swimming with a million thoughts. So, your suspicions were correct.

"I..." You clenched your fists. "I see you here everyday. This- this is my spot." You mumbled, realizing just how stupid you sounded as the words left your mouth.

The look he gave you only served to reinforce that.

"Your...spot?" He chuckled, crossing his arms and walking back towards you. "Do you own this graveyard, princess?" He asked, his tone filled with mock curiosity.

"I- no. But- there's never been anyone else in here with me-"

Hyunjin put his finger on his chin. "Why do you like this place so much, anyway? Someone your age should be out there, partying with your friends and what not." He said, sounding like he was talking to himself more than you.

"I like this place. It's quiet here. I've spent every night here for more than ten years." You explained, swallowing.

"Hm. Bad home life?"

"Understatement." You said softly, shaking your head. "It's been more than a year since I left home for good. Now I live here."

Hyunjin hummed, his tone filled with what seemed like genuine sympathy. "Well, I'm sorry to hear that...but unfortunately, I can't just pack up and leave. I have work to do. " He gestured to the pentagram. "I expect I'll be here a while."

"But..." You don't want this. You don't want him encroaching your space, leaving his arcane items and trinkets everywhere. You hated unfamiliarity, the way it made you feel cold and fearful. You'd spent all these years alone, after all...gotten used to the solitude.

"No...you c-can't." You muttered, steeling yourself to deliver your reply. It was extremely difficult denying this beautiful man. There was a part of you that was inexplicably pulled to him. Something about him excited you, sending tingles all over your body and melting away your inhibitions one by one.

"I can't? This place is big enough for the two of us, love. Why don't you want this?"

You grit your teeth. All these questions were irritating you. "I don't have a reason to let you stay."

Hyunjin bit his lip at that, nodding slowly. He pursed his lips, staying silent for a minute before his eyes slowly lit up with an idea.

"Tell you what...why don't I give you one?"

"Give me what?"

"A reason to let me stay."

You didn't miss the way his eyes sparkled with mischief as he uttered the words. Feeling your cheeks flush, you internally reminded yourself to stay strong. 

No, you weren't going to budge, no matter what he offered you. Although...you had a small idea of what he was insinuating, and you'd be lying if you said the thought wasn’t enticing. 

"Elaborate." You said cautiously, eyes widening a little when he backed you up against the statue behind you, catching you off guard.

"Why do that when I could just show you?" He asked, voice low and deep. His eyes bore into you, searching yours with an urgency.

"S-show me? I-"

He cut you off, leaning closer until your lips were brushing. His proximity made the words fizzle and die on your tongue, your cheeks burning as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

"So flustered. I haven't even done anything of significance yet." He chuckled, a finger coming up to trace your jawline.

"I don't-"

He rolled his eyes, closing the minimal distance between the two of you to press his plump lips to yours.

It felt like stars were exploding in your belly. You'd never been kissed before, and it seemed a little unfair to you that he would be your first. This devilishly handsome intruder, barrelling into your life without prior notice.

You kissed him back, though. Any shred of rationality left in your form was quickly disappearing as he nipped at your lips, letting out a soft moan into the kiss. He snaked his hands under your thighs, spreading them apart to fit himself in between. "Fuck..." His lips wandered down to your neck, kissing the spot gently before sucking on the smooth skin.

Pulling away after a few minutes to catch his breath, he grinned down at you. Your lips were red and kiss-bitten, your neck covered with marks. He prided himself in the masterpiece he'd created.

Inhaling, he leaned in again, lips ghosting your jaw. "Do you want this? Tell me you want this, Y/n."

"I...I do..." You said softly under your breath, avoiding his eyes as the embarrassment flooded your being.

"Louder." He hissed, pressing himself against you to let you feel the bulge growing in his pants.

"I want you!" You cried out, holding onto his shoulders as he lifted you up slightly. "Please, it's been years since I've been touched- I n-need it."

You closed your eyes, having caught a glimpse of his triumphant smirk and not wanting to see it for any longer than you had to. He had started to squeeze your thighs, warming you up as he placed a line of wet kisses down your neck.

"Good girl. Don't worry, I'll make you feel good. Promise." He assured, setting you on top of the base of the statue. The statue was that of an angel, and you would have found the situation funny if Hyunjin wasn't sliding his fingers up and down your covered clit, causing your brain to blank.

"So wet. You weren't lying when you said you haven't been touched in years, hm?"

You stayed silent, biting your lip in order to prevent a moan from bubbling out. He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "Thought so."

He grabbed the waistband of your panties with one hand, dragging it down and discarding them on the floor. Bringing his long fingers up to your lips, he pressed them in. "Suck." He ordered, staring at you intensely. His stare was so deep, You realized the undecipherable emotion had been lust all along, and your heart pounded.

You obeyed him immediately, sucking on his digits eagerly as your pussy throbbed, needing attention. You bucked your hips slightly, a needy expression directed at the man in front of you.

"An impatient one, are you?" He winked, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, travelling downwards to stroke your entrance.

"Lucky for you, I'm feeling pretty impatient tonight, too." He breathed, leaning forward to suck on your jaw as he pushed the digits past your walls, hissing at how tight you were.

"Fuck, I can't wait to feel you around my cock-" You exhaled shakily at his words, whining as he crooked his fingers up, finding your sweet spot with no difficulty. The sensations flooding throughout your body as he thrusted them into your cunt were incredible, ones you had never experienced before. It felt like your drab, dreary world confined to the cemetery was exploding with a burst of color as his fingers brought you to the edge.

"So pretty for me, baby. Am I making you feel good?"

What kind of question was that? Your moans were loud despite your best efforts to hold them back, your legs shivering and your lips quivering. The answer to that should be fairly obvious, you thought.

"Y-yeah. Love it- ah!" You cried out when his pace increased, his fingers almost a blur from how fast he was slamming them into you. He was able to fill you up so well even like this, and you found yourself drooling at the thought of what was to come.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this." He hummed, his thumb pressing onto your clit and rubbing gently. His other hand came up to your breast, flicking your nipple over the fabric and causing you to let out a gasp.

You were nearing the edge, hurtling towards it. Hyunjin didn't let up, adding a third finger and moving the trio at a speed that was almost inhumane.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you? I can feel you clenching."

You nodded, tears pricking at your eyes as he slowed down his thrusts, making his fingers go as deep into your heat as he possibly could before pounding into you once more.

"You're a sight to behold." He mumbled, pressing his lips to yours gently, sucking on them. It was the last push you needed to fall over the edge, combined with his movements down south.

You'd never felt any sensation more otherworldly than the one taking over you at the moment. Your orgasm seized you mercilessly, sending electricity shooting over you and leaving you quaking in its wake.

His lips were still on yours as he groaned at the feeling of you squirting all over him. Pulling away, he observed the amount of juices that had spilled out of you and let out a wry chuckle.

"Fuck, I really want to make you do that again. On my cock, this time."

You spoke through pants, chest heaving. "Yes- yes please. Want." You mumbled incoherently, your brain turning into mush as you slumped in his hold.

He kissed your forehead, smiling. "And you will. Let's continue this at home, shall we?"

"Home?" You asked in confusion, peeling your eyes open. The graveyard was your home. What was he talking about?

"My home." He repeated, rubbing circles on your skin. "You'll be living with me from now on, baby."

You averted your eyes from him, disappointment filling you as he said the words. Tempting, but it would never happen. Your fate lay in this graveyard, your destiny an eternity of floating just beyond the veil.

"I..." You closed your eyes, a sob caught in your throat. "I can't...leave. I'm not-"

"I know."

You looked up, puzzled as his expression softened. He pulled you close to his body, picking you up. "You don't have to worry, love."

"You knew?" Your eyes widened in shock. You looked back over what had just happened, small clues that he was aware revealing themselves. You remembered suddenly that he'd known your name, even though you hadn't told it to him outright...he'd touched you, even felt you. The tiniest flicker of hope lit up your heart as he stared at you fondly.

"Yes." He kissed your forehead as he started moving to the gate. "You're no longer stuck here, darling." He said firmly.

You could barely contain all the emotions tangled in your heart as you tried to make sense of it all. Looking over his shoulder as he carried you, you ran your eyes over your tombstone and the candles he'd placed in front of it. The pentagram on top was still shining, illuminating the grave and setting it apart from the others.

"You're alive again, Y/n. And this time, you're mine."

Happy Halloween!