#until they get caught and then it's all over | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thexsilentxwordsmith · 2 days ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader, Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, John Mactavish, Reader

Summary: Friends and coworkers, Sgt. Mactavish and Lt. Riley have one thing in common: how much they want you, though one is less vocal about it. During a night out, you think you've secured one lover, but suddenly you are leaving out of the bar with both as all that intense attraction comes to a head.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings:

“Aye, would you look a’ that,” the Scottish sergeant nudges the silent and skull-masked lieutenant at his elbow, nodding towards the subject that has caused his sudden outburst. “She decided ta come after all.”

Two sets of eyes lock to the door as a familiar face steps foot inside that dingy little hole in the wall bar right outside the base, the one that the boys happen to frequent quite regularly whenever downtime is available. Tonight is one of those nights where most of the squad is here, ready to let loose for the first time in months and though you don’t always feel the need to imbibe with your teammates, tonight…tonight just feels different.

“Fuck, she does look a sweet thing tonight, doesn’t she, L.T.?” Sgt. Mactavish says with an unsubtle lick of his lip just before he takes another big swig of his lager, his eyesight lingering a bit too long on your legs, risking him getting caught.

How is he supposed to look away when that dangerously short denim skirt and tight little top you’ve decided to wear leaves barely anything to the imagination, that gorgeous figure of yours on display for any hungry beast to devour with his gaze?

“Settle the fuck down there sergeant,” Lt. Riley shoots back with a lilt of agitation, his sight narrowing with the furrowing of his brow under his black balaclava as he stares pointedly at the younger officer, “ya know the fuckin’ rules about fraternization. Ya really gonna risk it all on a recruit?”

A snort exits out of the scot’s nose as he sets his glass back on the tabletop with just the foam from his beer pooled at the bottom. “Ye sayin’ ye wouldn’t try an get a piece ‘a that if ye had tha chance?” he snickers out the question as the lieutenant raises the bottom of his mask before grabbing his own glass, ready to bring it to his lips. “Guess all the times I’ve caught ye lookin’ musta been my imagination then.”

Lt. Riley pauses with his cup half raised. “Drop it while you’re ahead, Johnny,” the command is firm and he continues on with his drink, hiding behind the disguise of his stoic demeanor to convince the sergeant that he isn’t gnawing at the bit to get another glimpse of your curves in that revealing little outfit as now you’ve given him so much silky flesh for his eyes to devour. He has to bite his tongue hard to keep himself from losing it.

“Rules be damned, ye know you’d hit if ye had tha chance,” the sergeant whispers under his breath as he waves over the waitress to order another round for himself. “ ‘sides, they’re more guidelines anyways.”

The lieutenant is never going to admit it out loud to the cocky sergeant, but he hates how right he is with his statement. There is something about you he yearns for, that draws his eyes constantly, that keeps him filled with fantasies enough to fuel each one of his late night wank sessions for months and months now. He’s becoming insatiable even though he’s better at keeping a straight face, but inside he is burning just to get a piece of you. Too bad there is no way in hell he’d ever get the chance… right?

You can feel eyes on you from the moment you enter the establishment, though at first you aren’t sure where they are coming from until you pass by the table where a couple of officers sit on your way to the bartender and you hear the distinct sound of choking. From the corner of your eye you can see Sgt. Mactavish sputtering into his glass, coughing up the beer that’s gone down the wrong way as the lieutenant next to him smacks his bicep and you have to speed up to hide the smile spreading across your mouth.

Drink secured and in hand you cross over to one of the tables sequestered by your company as a small group of privates wave you over and you take a seat, still keeping an eye on a couple of specific officers. This isn’t the first time you’ve noticed certain behaviors from them whenever you are around; at this point it’s almost obvious that they are taken with you, though they still pretend that they are hiding it well.

You like that attention, almost crave it. It’s a strange little game that you can’t help wanting to play with them, but more than that you want it to lead to something. Just a night, one night, to know at least one of them biblically; that’s all you want.

Every once in a while as you sit there drinking and joining in bits of cheerful conversation, you’re sure you catch them stealing quick glances your way while the other is distracted. You start to wonder: what would it take for either of them to ever risk breaking the rules just to have a little something with you?

You study them for a while and the two have really been putting them back. All that liquor has to be lessening their inhibitions, evident by the way they start getting sloppy with their glances. Now, instead of sneaking peeks in your direction, they are lingering a bit too long and if you time it right you just might catch them in the act.

The later it gets and the more liquor that snakes its way down your throat, the more bold it makes you and soon you’re thinking about ways you can put that question to the test. You’re not shy by any means, but you know when to play your cards and when to hold your hand and right now you think it’s the perfect time to go all in. If you can just get either one of them alone and make a move, maybe that would be enough to have them give you what you want: a night as their plaything.

Sure enough, not even a few minutes later you lock eyes with the sergeant. It’s only for a moment before he quickly diverts his gaze, but not before you pop off a sly little grin that you know he can see. There’s a reason behind your smile that you know he is able to read. In that split second that your eyes connected, even in the dimly lit bar, it felt like he was trying to undress you with his gaze and now he knows that he’s been caught red handed.

Oh yeah, this is your moment and you are going to take it...but how?

How are you meant to make your move if neither has been on their own for long enough for you to get close? It’s like they are purposely making it more difficult for you than it has to be… at least that is until you watch Sgt Mactavish quickly stand to his feet, finish the last swig off his new glass, and take off in the direction of the restroom. No clearer sign could be given; this is the only chance you’re going to get and you know you have to take your shot.

It’s now or never.

Abandoning your drink, you wait a couple minutes before slipping out of your seat and away from your table to make a beeline straight behind your target. The closer you get the harder your heart pounds in your chest. What is your plan once you corner him? There isn’t one, not now that you’re closing in on your goal. This could all blow up in your face, but at least you have to try; the punishment will be worth it.

Closer and closer the door gets until you are on it. Heartbeat in your ears you slowly and quietly open the door and peek your head inside. Your eyes clock only a singular pair of feet and with a quick glance behind you at the rest of the bar, you open it fully and step inside. With the handle still in your hand, you back yourself into the door to softly close it and engage the lock.

The sound of flushing and the zipping of a fly makes you lose focus before you can finish making sure you won’t be disturbed as the sergeant comes out to see you standing there completely out of the blue.

“Did ye get lost lass?” the scottish sergeant questions playfully as he crosses the small room to the sink.

There’s only silence, his question is left unanswered as you decide that this is the time for action, not words. He isn’t aware that you’ve made your way over to him until it’s too late and you have your hand pressed firmly right to the middle of his taut chest, pushing him back into the wall right next to the sink as you move in close.

“What’s all this about, hmm?” he asks curiously, trying to keep calm under your touch.

You look up into his face, a gleam in your eye that he can’t ignore. “You know what this is sergeant,” you smirk, teeth looking more like fangs ready to sink into his skin, “or do you think I’m oblivious to how you’ve been looking at me?”

Subtle isn’t your strong suit when the liquor starts rushing through your system and right now you are using that to your benefit. Bright blue eyes stared back into your own, a spark as if from a match igniting within them that shimmer through the irises as he stares back at you.

“Been wonderin’ if ye would pick up on that,” he says as he smirks right back at you, not trying to hide anything now that he has been read to filth. “It’s been gettin’ harder and harder to be coy when yer ‘round.”

What is he supposed to say again? There is something he should be telling you right now, but he can’t remember as your body presses into his. No, that’s not entirely true. He knows what he needs to say he just desperately doesn’t want to say it, not now when his hands are getting their first real feel of all these curves he’s been dreaming of having under his touch for so long.

But he has to speak up, if only to cover his ass later.

“We shouldn’t, ye know the rules and…” he hesitates with a shuddered breath as his fingertips connect with a bit of skin along your hip and you promptly cut him off.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” you say.

The movement of his hands stops and he looks into your face. “Yer serious?” he questions with a lick of his lips, his jaw shifting as he impatiently waits for you to reply.

You can’t help but smirk. “As a fucking heart attack, sir,” you murmur as you lean yourself into his hands so that he has no choice but to keep them on you. “I know what the rules say, but I don’t care, not tonight. I want you, so what the hell are you gonna do about it, hmm?”

You take his hand in yours and bring it up to your breast, placing the palm directly over your shirt and closing his fingers around the tissue. Watching his hand closely you can see it twitch as if he is struggling with himself on whether he should remove it or keep it there and maybe do something more.

You look back up into his eyes. “Gonna let this opportunity pass you by sergeant?” you ask, laying the seductive tone on thick for good measure. “I thought you were a man of opportunity.”

Well goddamn you don’t have to tell him twice. The blood racing violently through his veins makes his temperature spike as he grabs you by the waist to spin you round so that your backside rests against the edge of the small sink. He stares at you silently and you fear that you may have overstepped, but then his gaze shifts.

“Ye best know what yer askin’ for,” he says.

“I do,” you respond. “So are you going to keep standing there, or…?”

Without another word he picks you up with little effort, his biceps straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt, and sets you on the countertop next to the sink. Your legs are already open, but he parts them further with his hip so that he can slip himself between them, hiking up your skirt so that it sits on your waist and leaves your panty-covered pussy exposed. Immediately his hand harshly catches you by the back of the head, making you gasp in response to his roughness.

My, he is an eager boy, all ready to play.

He stares at you, chest heaving pronouncedly up and down as he feels like he can’t take a full breath, the focus somewhere else in his body now. You are caught up in the moment of peering back into those baby blues as they gaze back at you with an intensity that makes your heart pound faster.

Is it getting hotter in here or is it just you? You can’t tell. The haze overtakes you and the next thing you see is his face leaning in silently and suddenly your mouths are connected together, instantly breaking that tension in the best fucking way possible: with a moist, sticky embrace that has left little room for breathing.

His grip in your hair is strong, holding your head in place so there is nowhere for you to turn and you are forced to accept the brunt of his need on your lips until you can feel them burn the harder he presses. There is stubble along his jaw that pricks your cheeks and the skin around your mouth, adding another layer of sensations to the mix already working on your lips. The taste of the cheap beer that he had just chugged is still on his breath, crisp and hoppy and it hits your tongue with its sharp bite, but it does little to deter you from taking every ounce of his embrace.

Your own hands run up the back of his neck through the cropped bits of hair around his mohawk. The feeling of your fingers against the short hairs make that cocky bastard shiver before melting into you and you sigh into his mouth at the delicious reaction. Is it that easy to make him fold? Oh, you are going to use that against him in the future.

Strong fingertips bore themselves into your hip, pulling your pelvis more flush against his and fuck if there isn’t something hard already pressing back against your sex; it does feel good to your inebriated brain to rub your barely clothed pussy against the bulge forming through his jeans.

“Shit, ye tryin’ to make me blow right here? Haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet,” he says playfully with a hiss against your parted lips.

Your hips roll into him again. “Guess you better get me the fuck outta here quick sergeant,” you shoot back, “cause I’m not stopping. Gotta itch that needs to be scratched something terrible.”

Catching your bottom lip, he pulls it out of that mischievous smile it is currently contorted into and sucks it between his teeth to give it a nip. “Ye are full of surprises, lass.”

“You have no fucking idea,” you whisper onto his mouth before you are back on him in another flurry of heated, frantic kisses that make you lose track of everything outside of his mouth.

“Ehem.”

At some point the bathroom door had opened and closed, though neither you nor the sergeant had taken notice of the prominent squeak of the hinges. Both of your heads unlock and turn towards the sound of the familiar voice where the imposing figure of the lieutenant takes up the entire frame, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares back at the mess you two have already become.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as anxiety sets, making you momentarily forget what you know and fear that this is going to ruin everything for you…until you see it. There is a sparkle you detect in those dark eyes, the same one you’ve seen before. Even with his stoic posture, you know that this isn’t a reprimand that’s coming and it makes you feel at ease.

“L.t.” the Scottish sergeant greets him. “I… I mean we…”

Lt. Riley doesn’t say a word as the man still between your legs struggles to come up with some explanation for what the lieutenant has just walked in on and as he does you notice that the masked officer isn’t paying him any mind, instead he is staring straight at you. You are full of fire tonight now that you have a bit of liquid courage in you and that makes you prepared to do whatever you need to to get what you want. Instead of letting the sergeant flounder on, you interject.

“See something you like, lieutenant?” you ask as you keep your eyes locked to him.

Sgt. Mactavish turns his attention back to you, surprised by your attitude. “What?” you ask him with a chuckle. “Did you not know that the lieutenant here looks at me the same way you do? Or has he been able to fool you?”

Pushing back the sergeant so that you can get to your feet and straightening your skirt back down to at least cover your ass, you make your way over to the other officer currently present in the small space. Those striking amber eyes never leave yours as he looks down at you through the space in his balaclava; this is the closest you have ever been to this beast of a man, but instead of being intimidated at all by his impressive size, you are only thinking about climbing him like a tree.

What’s happening?

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out the thought that had just burrowed its way into the front of your brain without even thinking. “You know…there’s enough of me to go around if you want,” you say.

That strong jaw shifts beneath his mask; is that a smirk you can nearly make out through the fabric? “Is that so?” he questions curiously, that low, gravely tone sending a shiver down your spine. “What makes ya think I want anythin’?”

You chuckle again. “Fine, then tell me I’m wrong, but I can’t help wondering why you would follow us in here,” you push back. “To piss? I doubt it; you haven’t even tried to move from this spot. To catch us?”

You pause, but he doesn’t interject. “I don’t think that’s it either,” you say with a smirk.

Lt. Riley knows you can be strong willed when you want to be, he’s seen it time and again during training and in the field, but now that it is directed at him it is something else… something that is making him weak the longer you talk.

“Well?” you ask, not letting yourself back down. “Are you going to fess up?”

Several seconds of heavy silence permeate the space and yet the lieutenant still doesn’t speak, not even to confirm or deny your suspicions which already speaks enough as is.

“That’s what I thought,” you answer yourself with a shake of your head.

Taking a step towards him and extending your pointer finger you poke the tip directly into his sternum as you look up at him through heavy-lidded eyelashes. Even from that one pressure point you can feel how fast his heart is pounding and fuck does that feel like some sort of accomplishment in itself.

“Don’t think you’re any slicker than Sgt. Mactavish over there,” you say under your breath. “I can feel your gaze lingering on me all the time, lieutenant, and I’m certain it’s not because I’ve done anything wrong. Are you going to try and deny that? Come on, sir, tell me I’m wrong.”

Standing back, Mactavish watches from the sidelines as you put that massive man into his place and fuck does that make his heart skip a beat. Strong-willed women are the Scots one weakness, someone to push back when he shoves and give him a run for his money. Just the way you were kissing him seconds ago he knows he would be absolutely knackered come the morning and he desperately wants to get out of here to get started on that as soon as possible. Goddamn, if he gets any harder he is gonna rip through the zipper of his jeans.

You push the lieutenant some more. “So, how about you stop undressing me with your eyes and just do it for real,” you challenge. “Or is your hand enough to keep you satisfied?”

“Watch your tongue, luv,” he says.

The lieutenant is struggling to find the words to tell you off, but presented with something he desperately wants they simply won’t come to him. So there he stands, silently staring as he comes to terms with the fact that he is throwing caution to the wind and taking what he wants. The only thing that has him hesitant is the fact that you were just wrapped around Johnny.

Sensing that delay you turn your attention back to the only other person in the room with an idea even more insane than actually trying to approach one of them in the first place, but opportunity keeps knocking and you are going to keep answering.

“What do you think, sergeant? Think we could have another join in with our fun?”

If it will get him a chance to have you, Mactavish is willing to do anything, even if it means he has to share. It’s not like it’s with some stranger; LT is a friend, his colleague, a blood brother. Actually now that the idea is presented before him, he has to admit that it doesn’t sound half bad. He wants to fuck you, but maybe he wouldn’t mind watching you be fucked too.

“I can share,” the sergeant says with a smirk. “What ‘bout ye, LT?”

Turning your attention back to the lieutenant with a smug grin on your face, you wait for his answer. Lt. Riley shakes his head and follows it with a defeated sigh; this is a terrible fucking idea, but god damn is he in it now. That tension that has steadily been building since you got in close finally comes to a head and the need to take you is overwhelming. All that yearning he has done from afar makes his hands tingle at the thought that they can now be filled with you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he growls as he gives himself over to his desires and wrenches that god-forsaken mask above his lips urgently, an arm snaking its way quickly around your waist as he turns you both around and shoves you into the wall directly to his right. Instantly his firm, bulky body is pressed tightly into your curves as he lifts your head by the chin and meets your lips with a feverish intensity that sends your fucking head spiraling.

He is pressed in hard, his kiss even more greedy and desperate than the sergeants had been as he steals every bit of your mouth with his own over and over again, rough and desperate being the signature left on your lips until they are on fire from the friction and you can’t breathe.

“Do ya even know how much I’ve fuckin’ wanted to do this?” he groans into your mouth, the feral lust in his words palpable on your tongue. “Since the moment ya arrived I’ve been fuckin’ chompin’ at tha bit to get at ya. Now that I have ya, I’m gonna get my fuckin’ fill, pretty girl.”

One of his large hands slips down into the back of your skirt so he can fill his palm with as much of your ass as he can hold, pulling your hips forward so that he can grind himself against you. You can feel his cock growing hard the longer he is pressed to you; it’s throbbing on your bare thigh as his assault on your mouth makes it impossible to even think of pulling away.

If it had only been one or the other you would have gladly fucked them right here in this filthy bar bathroom, but there is no way to take full advantage of this opportunity presented to you in such a tight space; you all need to go somewhere that will allow everyone to easily get involved in the screw-fest that is about to happen.

“Who’s room’s closest?” you murmur through his kisses burning across your lips as a damp heat gathers between your thighs. “We need to go.”

There is another warm body at your elbow now, moving in against you as the sergeant nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his lips desperately trying to make purchase with your warm, silky skin; he was getting lonely waiting for Simon to finish getting that first bit of contact and he needs more.

Fuck, is it good to be you right now stuck in the middle of this lust-filled sandwich.

“That’d be me, sweet,” the sergeant groans into your ear, finally answering the question that you had almost forgotten you’d asked.

You break away from the lieutenant long enough to give Mactavish a proper kiss for giving you what you wanted, a little treat for being good before you put the question to the lieutenant. “Are we going or not?” you ask him, hand reaching up to outline his strong jaw with your fingertips.

The touch from your fingertips makes his skin burn under the contact and he is ready to drag you out this instant. “Johnny, let’s go,” he agrees and you all quickly exit the bathroom as inconspicuous as possible, which with the way your cheeks are now flushed bright red and the two men stalking behind you tug at the crotches of their pants is a feat in itself, but somehow you manage… you think anyway.

The moment you are all outside the heat-packed bare and into the cooler night air, the change in temperature seems to fuel your giddiness. No matter where you turn there is a hand or an arm around you somewhere, pulses racing violently that can be felt through all the touches of skin to skin like a drumbeat to make you all walk faster until finally the base comes into view.

But amongst the flirty touches there is a bit of secrecy that the two men share between them, whispers that you can’t quite make out as they keep you preoccupied and you leave it be as you can’t be bothered to care what they keep murmuring about to each other.

You've barely clambered your way inside Mactavish’s room before the tension of the moment can no longer be kept restrained. The door is flung shut with a bang and your body is immediately pinned to it, each man claiming a side of you, desperately exploring every inch of your curves through your clothes as they move in closer. Your needy bodies grind against one another like animals in heat, rubbing and touching, greedy hands roaming until you three are nothing more than a tangled mess of hot, glistening skin covered by a thin layer of fabric.

Lt. Riley is the one to take the lead as his fingers dart to your skirt, lacing them into the waistband and ripping the small piece of jean fabric down off your hips until it crumples to the floor at your feet. You flash him a smile as you pull his mask up and off his head so that nothing restricts you from getting at his lips. You barely have time to register the coif of dark blonde hair and stark features that get revealed to you as you are immediately standing taller on the balls of your feet to bind your mouths together in a kiss that sets his soul on fire.

A pair of rough, weathered hands glide across all this new skin available to their touch, capturing as much as they can hold, playfully flirting across your lower abdomen and the seams of your panties that still cling to your form for the moment before they too find their way onto the ground.

Not one to miss out, the sergeant's hands splay up under the bottom of your shirt with fingers that have a need to feel even more skin. You release the brown-eyed lieutenant and lick your lips to get the last of his taste off with your tongue before turning to the other and that spunky scot darts in before you can take a full enough breath to fill your lungs.

The back of your head bounces off the door as he aggressively takes your mouth as if it is his property, only pulling from your lips long enough to jerk your top and bra up and over your head in one smooth motion, throwing them both to the ground behind him before he dives back in.

Your wrist is in the lieutenant's grasp now as he forcefully tugs at it, bringing it into place over the massive bulge tenting the crotch of his jeans. The stiff peak meets your touch and bobs in rhythm to match the pounding of his heartbeat and you rub the swell before cupping your palm up against it. His bassy groan fills your head as his lips descend onto your neck in feverish fashion and you undo the clasp on his pants, rip down the zipper, and shove your hand inside the recesses of his clothing to massage him through his underwear.

With your only free hand you loop your fingers around the clasp of Mactavish's own pair of denim and using feeling alone you tug and pry until you are able to unhook the button. He leans his hips into your hand to help and soon the pants are barely clinging around him so that the slightest movement will cause them to fall.

"Open your legs," you hear that heavy British accent as the lieutenant whispers the husky words into your ear from his place just under your jaw as your mouth still dances with the other officer.

There is pressure over your lower abdomen and you adjust your stance so that the gap in your legs is wider. That heavy mitt slides down past the hem of your panties and straight inside, descending right to your petals that he is pleased to find already a good bit damp.

His thick finger teases around your silken lips, tantalizing your body with anticipation before he finally parts through the barrier and drags that thick digit up the length, gathering as much of your wetness on it as he can before he goes in search of that bundle of nerves he knows is somewhere close. A smile forms on his mouth when you buck against his hand as he lands the pad of his middle finger right on it and presses down.

"There she is," he groans and begins to roll his finger around the organ with a soft and steady touch till he has it throbbing.

The need the action produces rushes through your limbs like liquid fire and immediately you pry down the sergeant's pants, a bit of a struggle with only one hand at your disposal, to expose his skin tight boxer briefs that leave nothing much to the imagination as the jeans fall to his ankles. A moan is hummed into your mouth as you find your way past the waistband and wrap those soft fingers around his throbbing shaft.

Jesus, both of these boys are packing.

He has to release your lips so he can breathe as the intensity catches him by surprise and his body convulses slightly. "Christ, I've been fantasizin' 'bout that soft hand bein’ wrapped 'round my cock," Mactavish moans, his mouth ghosting around your face as your head is dragged back to the other side to reconnect mouths with the lieutenant. The poor sergeant is too absorbed in the ecstasy of your strokes to bridge the gap between his lips and your flesh just yet.

He is struggling to speak as the pressure from your hand compressing as your stroke makes him lose even more of the little bit of sanity he has left. "Better than I coulda imagined. Yer a natural, lass."

The scot’s hands know exactly what to do even though his mind is still reeling from that initial contact and when he looks down, he catches himself pawing desperately at your breasts, cupping them in his hands to massage the mounds, enjoying the weight in his palms as he teases the nipples until they are hard.

The men unintentionally work in tandem as you do the same to them and with your body being stimulated so thoroughly you are quickly becoming putty in their hands with a mess gathering between your thighs that the lieutenant can feel slowly dripping down his fingers. Good, you are going to need everything to be nice and primed for what they have secretly planned. All that whispering they had shared on the walk back had been for a reason, a plot that they came up with on the spot on how to share their treat for the night.

Why should you have to choose who to start with and who to leave out? No, there's no need; brothers in arms share everything after all - everything- and you don’t have to be no exception. You wanted to go home with them both and that is how they’d like you to take them. The lieutenant taps the sergeant’s arm so that he is forced to break away and a knowing glance is shared between them.

"I think our sweet thing needs a bit more, yeah?" Lt. Riley asks his partner in mischief as he pulls away from your lips and Sgt. Mactavish nods.

The sergeant turns his sight back to you and you meet his gaze with an intoxicated, doe-eyed look that makes his heart skip a beat. God, you look stunning as a mess like this and he wants to make it worse.

"We're just gettin' started," he breathes into your face.

"Come 'ere, pretty girl," the lieutenant beckons as he again seizes your wrist in his grasp and draws you over to the bed, his pants slipping off his hips as he moves and he steps out of them so that when he reaches the mattress he only has his shirt and boxers to remove.

As a mass of naked, bulked-out muscle now, he sits down and situates himself before spinning you around by your hips, ripping off your soaked panties, and pulling you down so that you are forced to be seated in his lap. His cock prods its way through your thighs so you have to open them, veins throbbing from being so engorged.

Your eyes lock to it through your lap. "I need you inside me," you moan, positioning your hips so you can try and grind against it. "Please, I’ve waited so long for this."

"Mmm, I like tha way ya beg, sweetheart," the lieutenant praises as his fingertips drift across your throat to feel how quick your pulse races under his touch. "I can't fuckin' say no ta that. Let's fix that ache."

Reaching between your thighs, he grabs a hold of his cock and grips it firmly at the base. His other arm secures you around the waist to his taut chest so that he can lean you both back and align the head with your entrance. You can feel the delicious way it prods right at the hole and your body trembles as you wait impatiently for him to thrust it in, your heart beating out of your ribcage.

That first bit of penetration as the head of his cock slides in stretches you out so fast that you cry out with a jolt, but that arm around you keeps you from slipping. You continue to whine as he thrusts the rest in until he has you sitting on his thighs completely inside your tight cunt, pulsating. His lips gingerly pepper the side of your head with kisses until your muscles relax and your body finally accepts his girth.

“How’s tha’ princess?” he growls low in your ear with his warm breath trickling down your neck to make goosebumps raise along your skin.

You nod your head up and down in short bursts as you fight with your tongue to recall how speech works. Fuck, you can feel his pulse as his cock throbs as if it has its own heartbeat.

“Ya feel so fuckin’ good,” Lt. Riley grunts as he grabs onto your waist to guide your body so you slowly start to bob up and down on him.

It’s a good thing he sets the rhythm for you as you can barely focus on anything as the feeling of your superior stretching you out mixes with the adrenaline rush making you lightheaded, but through that haze you glimpse Sgt. Mactavish and beckon him forward so you can tug down his boxers and release his cock while he flings his shirt up and off his head.

Lt. Riley grabs onto your thighs and holds both of them gripped tight in his large hands, spreading them wide so that Mactavish can easily make his way in between them. The hair-speckled muscles of his abdomen shift along your bare spine as he leans you both back again so that the man before you has better access, both of you needing to be at the right angle to accomplish what is about to come.

"Think ye can take more, angel?" the Scot says with a mischievous grin plastered to his lips as his fist strokes along his cock to coat the shaft in the bit of precum that has dribbled out of the tip.

There is warmth at the side of your head right at the edge of your ear, a shuddered breath that makes your pupils dilate and your own breathing gets caught in your throat. "Ya wanna have us both in ya, dontcha sweetheart?" the lieutenant growls, the heat from his breath brushing over your cheek as his fingers squeeze around the meat of your legs. "Fillin' ya full, givin' ya everythin' ya could ever want: both 'a us at the same time in this sweet, little pussy."

You pause as you try to think, but all you come up with is that you have never needed anything more than to have both of these men at once. Lt. Riley, however, takes your silence the only way he can, that you are having second thoughts.

“If ya don’t want it luv, jus’ say tha word,” he says. “It ain’t gonna hurt our feelin’s ta take turns. Do ya wanna stop?”

You can sense how close his lips are to your ear and it makes it hard to get the words out so you shake your head instead.

“Ya want us both?” he asks for clarification and you nod.

He has to be absolutely sure. "Need ya ta say it, luv," he groans as he tenses his glutes, causing his cock to pulse inside you till it pushes you to moan out loud. "Look at your sergeant an say it."

You refocus your sight on the buff, naked man before you who is hungrily stroking himself to the sight gifted to him. The blue of his eyes shift in the dim light, a sparkle that you can't help but smile at as you swallow to find your voice. "I can take more," you say without breaking eye contact with the short-haired sergeant. "I want you inside me too, sir."

"Good girl, good fuckin' girl," the lieutenant praises in that gruff voice before placing another kiss to the side of your head.

"Such a good little lass for us," Mactavish adds as he steps himself into the gap that’s been so generously created for him. His hands glide over your inner thighs, up and down the tender flesh a few times as if he's adoring it with his fingertips before he grabs back onto himself to align the tip of his cock at your opening just above the lieutenant's that is already stuffing you.

Leaning his head forward, Lt. Riley's lips gently connect with your feverish shoulder at the nape of your neck and delicate bites are soon ascending up your throat. "Gonna need ya ta breathe, alright?" he says softly with his mouth still lingering just below your jaw. "Jus' breathe, sweetheart. We’ll make it fit."

Your eyes flutter closed as you succumb to the overwhelming ecstasy coursing through you at everything that is happening, but a firm hand under your chin brings you back into the room and your eyes back onto your second lover.

"Eh, eyes on me, doll," the sergeant says as he holds your face up to gaze into his. "Wanna look inta those pretty things when I enter ye."

The lieutenant's lips rest against your throat as you feel that firm second tip begin to press harder at the top of your entrance, making you wrap your thighs around the sergeant’s hips. You breathe in through your nose deeply as he slowly sinks it in to rest just the head inside the threshold. The glazed over look in your eyes as you take him in is enough to almost send him reeling over the edge. His chest heaves with each breath as his head falls limp, muscles contracting as he pauses to give you all a moment to adjust.

Your whimpers mix with Mactavish's deep grunt and Lt. Riley's satisfied hum to fill the small room with the most unique music these four walls have ever heard. The pain of the intense stretch gradually eases after a moment and now that pleasure has taken its place you beg for the scot to keep going.

He smiles hungrily."Almost there, lass. Jus’ a bit more.”.

"Fuckin’ look at ya. You're doin' so well, sweetheart," Lt. Riley moans more of his praises as the sharp edge of his teeth drag across your neck, doing everything he can with what he has available to him to make sure your body stays in a state of pure bliss.

Mactavish's fingers dig into your hips as he thrusts again, this time all the way till he reaches the base of his member and you buck backwards, but the lieutenant has you secure in his arms so that you don’t go anywhere.

"Tha's it, pretty girl, tha’s it," he mutters sweetly as he lifts his head to find your cheek, nuzzling against it while placing sweet kisses along the surface. Your face is burning and he can feel it against his mouth.

"God, ye are a marvel," Mactavish adds with a hiss trailing the end of his sentence. "A fuckin' dream."

All the undivided attention, all the stimulation and heightened sensations of pain and pleasure has you in a daze of ecstasy so powerful that your head is spinning, drunk off all that intensity and they have to take control as you can only manage to take what they give.

Rotating your shoulders and turning your head with a bit of effort you find the lieutenant's face and before he can even think you immediately move in for the kill, connecting your lips with force. His hands compress around your thighs the harder you go in so that he can meet you with the same intensity. Your mouths dance together for a few more minutes before you wrench your face away only to have your hands reach out to find their place at the back of the sergeant's neck to pull him into a kiss just as heated.

No one gets left behind tonight.

Lt. Riley takes the opportunity of your distraction and rolls his hips to start thrusting, wanting to take you by surprise and it does. The whine you release into Mactavish's mouth is his evidence that he's done just that.

"Fuck," the sergeant exclaims in a burst as he too feels the effects of the lieutenant's movements and instinctually bucks his hips into you, causing you to whine louder.

Your head falls back against your superior's firm shoulder, your arms raising up to wrap around his neck to help you hold on as the two men begin to drive themselves deeper and deeper into your sopping wet pussy, stretching your tight hole to capacity. Your breasts bounce in rhythm, your body forced to move with the strength of their combined thrusts as eyes are locked onto the delicious sight of your body taking them.

Lt. Riley’s hands are still preoccupied with your thighs, but one of Mactavish’s is free and he uses it to cup around the plump bit of tissue to massage the nipple between his thumb and forefinger for the second time; the man just can’t keep off them. “Ye don’t know how much I’ve wanted te get at these juicy things,” he groans at the feeling of your soft skin filling his palm. “That’s why I was always makin’ ye run laps just te see ‘em bounce.”

You knew that’s what it was, why he always seemed to single you out in training when you swore up and down that you didn’t do anything wrong. So this had been a long time coming, a desire that had been long held.

“Knew the moment ya stepped on base, ya were gonna be trouble for me,” the man behind you pants, wanting to add his own two cents. “Told myself not ta look, rules and all, but fuckin’ hell sweetheart, how could I not? Ya got in my head fuckin’ quick. An’ with that strong, bull-headed attitude to match; christ, you are a deadly thing, luv.”

They find their rhythm in tandem, keeping pace with one another to get every benefit of slipping through all that slick, all parties working to that one collective end of everyone cumming like a three-headed monster of ecstasy. Thrust after thrust, bodies stimulated from adrenaline, you all are drawn even closer to that most satisfying end.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good, sweet girl,” your lieutenant praises and the sound of his voice is almost enough to make you break. “You gonna cum for us, yeah? Need ya ta cum.”

You swallow, your mouth dry from hanging open as it’s too much to hold in all those delicious moans. “Close,” you mumble into the small space created by your bodies, but all this friction is working a little too well for your lovers.

The sergeant is the first to break. “Shit, gonna fuckin’ come,” he groans as his abs strain, the pressure in the base of his stomach almost at its peak. Fuck, it’s just too satisfying to last any longer.

The other isn’t too far off either. “Ya ready for it?” Lt. Riley says, his breathing shaky and uneven.

You nod your head, a little disappointed that you aren’t fully there yet, but you know it can’t be helped. “Good girl,” he moans.

The sergeant pulls out first and you take his cock into your hand, tightly holding onto the shaft to stroke it towards your breasts as the lieutenant stays in to keep going. Lt. Riley is so close he can feel that tightening in the pit of his stomach about to snap and with a few more ragged thrusts he too pulls out to be met immediately with your hand that keeps up the stimulation. Having both of their cocks in each one of your hands, you stroke them furiously.

Finally the moment of no return is reached and the Scottish sergeant is the first to go, the stringy spurts of milky white cum hitting your chest to gather between your breasts as he shudders in your hand. Through his grunts and moans of pleasure as you stroke his cock of everything, your lieutenant blows too and the warm fluid shoots up between your thighs to cover your lower abdomen. You don’t stop your work until your hands are forcibly removed and only then do you finally let them go.

But even though they are finished, they aren’t done with you yet- oh no, you are going to cum if it’s the last thing Lt. Riley does.

You are taken by surprise as there is suddenly a finger circling your clit and you moan into your throat. “Did ya think it was over? Can’t let ya not get yours, luv,” your superior whispers into your ear. “Want ya ta come for me, sweet. Come on my fingers.”

The two middle fingers on his hand are immediately shoved into your dripping hole and he curls them again and again over your G spot with a steady touch until he has your thighs quivering. Not one to be outdone by his superior, Sgt. Mactavish falls to his knees and leans in, his heated, panting mouth advancing to just above the lieutenant’s fingers so that his tongue can lap at your clit.

Lt. Riley can feel your swollen walls as they start to flutter around his digits, your hips bucking wildly over Mactavish’s face as you stroke your fingers through the hair of his mohawk. The lieutenant needs you to come, he needs to feel that you’ve gotten yours; you’re not leaving here unsatisfied as long as he’s around. A few more curls of his fingers and strokes of your clit and you go silent as that tightening in your belly is pulled completely taunt and all at once snaps.

“Tha’s it,” your superior says amusedly as you let out a cry and your walls clamp down around his fingers, “good girl. Ride it all tha way out for me, luv. All tha way. Fuck…there ya go.”

You grind your hips into his hand and against the sergeant’s features until you can’t go anymore and settle back against Lt. Riley’s hot chest in contented exhaustion. The lieutenant’s fingers lay resting inside you as Sgt. Mactavish pulls back from your pussy, face dripping and accentuated with a smile before he wipes the contents away onto the back of his hand.

The sergeant looks so pleased with himself. “Been a while since a pretty thing’s ridden my face,” he says. “God, I missed tha’.”

The lieutenant lets you ride each balmy wave of ecstasy that washes over you to its end before the fingers inside you are pulled out and he brings them to his mouth to lick them clean as Sgt. Mactavish tilts your chin up and leans in to leave you with a breathless kiss on your raw lips for a job well done. He is more gentle this time, more sweet, and you swear you can feel his mouth turn up into a smile against your own that you can’t help matching.

The break in the kiss is slow and as he pulls away he strokes your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Ye were brilliant lass,” he says, punctuating it with one last peck on your lips as he moves back.

The lieutenant helps you off of his lap and sets you carefully down onto the bed beside him, making sure you’re steady before letting you go as the sergeant steps off somewhere into his room. You don’t pay much attention as your sight is focused on your superior, taking him in without the hindrance of his mask as he stares back at you.

“Ya really did so fuckin’ good, pretty girl,” he praises, admiring all that visible heat in your cheeks that he is partly responsible for. “But I knew ya would.”

He leans in to place a grateful kiss to your parched lips and you graciously accept it, letting your lips linger for as long as possible. Just as the kiss is broken, though, the squeak of metal is heard followed by the sound of rushing water and you both turn to the source to find Mactavish standing naked against the doorframe of his bathroom.

“Comin’?” the sergeant calls out.

Lt. Riley immediately goes to stand and offers you his hand. “C’mon, we need ta get ya cleaned up, sweetheart. We made a bit of a mess,” he says as he helps you onto your feet and guides you by a hand placed to the small of your back over to the shower and the warm water waiting to coat all of you. You stare up questioningly into his face as you go, but he just smirks as if he’s guessed what you are thinking.

“Don’t ya worry, night’s still young and we ain’t gonna be done for a long while yet.”

323 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 3 days ago

Text

Boss!harry | series preview

This is a Patreon-only series!

Summary: Harry's your boss and you're trying really hard not to develop feelings for him.

Warning: This is an angsty series y'all!

His warm hand smoothed over your hip and curled around your side as he scooted in closer.

You weren't sure what to expect when he'd wake up. You thought maybe he'd be right back to business, take you back to your car so you could go home and get yourself ready for the day. You hadn't expected that he'd be kissing up the column of your neck to your jaw with hot puffs of breath falling from his mouth and spreading over your skin slowly like melting wax.

You also hadn't expected your body's immediate reaction to him. The liquid heat pooling between your naked thighs and the way your nipples tightened underneath the cotton of his t-shirt. When he slid his hand underneath the fabric and up your tummy to your breast you rattled a moan that sounded like desperation. The way he squeezed around your sensitive tits was something you had no idea you needed. He practically worshiped your nipples and the soft plush skin of your breasts the night before.

The blankets tangled around your ankle as you rolled to your side to face him and he pulled you in by your thigh, pressing your naked core against his morning wood.

Fuck.

It was one thing to have a wild night with your excruciatingly handsome boss, but it was another to do it again upon waking before you were meant to be at work and pretending like nothing had happened.

Pretending. You could pretend. You'd have to because he made it clear the night before that this wasn't a thing. That this was just sex and you'd need to keep it quiet. That it wasn't going to happen again. It couldn't.

Which meant the way he touched you was just sex, just something for that moment. The way the remnants of his palm prints burned into your skin left behind something that would turn hollow and bitter the moment you left his front door made your stomach curl into itself.

You swallowed down the loss before it had even arrived. A one-night stand with your boss was a bad idea and this was why. Harry would be fine after (he could have anyone he wanted) and you'd be left reeling and abandoned. Again. Because this is what men did. You were only good for as long as they saw fit. And after this, Harry wouldn't want or need anything more from you. Why would he?

"Y/n…" he breathed your name against your lips, "Already shaking and I've barely touched you, baby. God I just wanna eat you alive."

He would eat you alive too. Chew you up and spit you right back out. But you wouldn't stop him from doing it. You couldn't stop it because if that's all it could be you'd take the last bits of what he'd offer and be on your way.

It was a sleepy morning, hazy, blurry, soft… Harry's hands and his tongue worked down your body until he'd found your pussy and he slowly, lazily ate you out until you were coming and crying.

And that time, when he fucked into you, it was slow and steady. Slippery wet. Your bare breasts were pressed into his chest as he licked into your mouth and the embers grew and sparked until they caught and your body was at the edge of surrender.

"Fuck your pussy feels just right," he groaned as he dragged himself through your walls, coating himself in your arousal, your scent.

You whimpered and stuffed your fingers into his hair as he ground his pelvis into your clit. The perfect angle, the perfect cock. Too bad he wasn't the perfect man. You couldn't have him. For obvious reasons.

Your throaty moans were swallowed by his mouth, his length smashing into your guts with a wet slapping sound as you both moved together as one. Sex and sweat and heat and the imprint of desire.

He was soft; his words, his cadence, his hands… but the thick and heavy organ moving into your tummy was anything but soft; stiff, masculine, and rigid, it stretched your insides wide open. He needed the room and your body accommodated every inch of him. Gushy.

When he spoke against your ear, the hitch in his voice was almost whiny, like he was the one who was going to feel the loss. Like he was going to be left hollow and you were the one eating him alive, "Baby… shit. Right there?" He nudged into you and stilled himself so you could feel what he meant. Right there. Yes. Right there. Tight and spongy, the pulse emanating from your cunt was wrapped around him, a rhythmic beating that tremored down through his cock and into the veins and nerve endings. Connected.

You stuffed down the dribble of emotion that swelled in your throat and threatened to break from your waterline.

It's just sex. You're a sexual being who needed a good release. It's just sex. You don't need him. It's. Just. Sex.

But it certainly didn't just feel like sex when his soft green irises found your gaze and he held it as he languidly rocked into you. He dotted kisses along your face and then he'd watch you for a moment and it was going to have you mixed up because it was so intimate. So tender of him.

Maybe if he'd flip you around and fuck you from behind and give you a nice spanking it'd feel like just sex. He'd done that the night before (among other positions). Had you drooling into his mattress as he plowed into you from behind, a couple of good swats on your ass as he said filthy things to you. That felt like just sex. Good sex, but still.

So the soft and slow morning fuck with gentle kisses and an easy, damp tongue over your parted lips, his eyes connected to yours as he moaned and slid his thumb at your temple – that was not just sex and you didn't want it.

Well, you did want it. You really did because you wanted to find someone that would do all those things. But you wanted that for good. Not just for the night.

"Are you okay, Y/n?" Harry sponged a kiss to the edge of your mouth.

"Yeah. I'm okay," you were breathless and on the edge of tears. A ridiculous girl.

"Does it hurt from last night? Was it too much?"

Swallowing you blinked your eyes and he was still softly caressing your face with his thumb like only a lover would do.

"It… a little. I feel fine now. You're so gentle so it's okay."

"That's why I'm being careful. Thought you might need it softer this morning. Are you sure you're okay?"

Too attentive. Too thoughtful. Too present. How were you going to separate your romantic nature from your carnal one? How did all the other women do it? You were sure he was like this with every girl he brought to his bed.

If you'd like to see more consider joining my Patreon if you haven't already! xoxo

246 notes · View notes

carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 days ago

Text

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 1

Or: a secret Admirer AU

Less than a month into the school year, and Steve’s already making use of the library. If Mrs. Click could see him now, she’d be proud–until she caught sight of the blank notebook page in front of him and the lack of textbooks on the table.

He feels stupid; he’s hunched over his notebook, trying to make his thoughts transfer onto the page in any coherent form. But, he’s not like Eddie with his impassioned speeches and clever English papers.

Words flow through Eddie in fully-formed, concrete ideas. For Steve, it’s more of a drip. Each word has to be scaffolded onto the previous one with blood, sweat, and tears. Even then, it’s never quite right. Too abrupt, never what he was actually trying to say.

He’s just never been good with words.

By the time he gives up, there’s more crossed out than left written, so he gets a clean page of paper and transcribes it as best he can. He’s left with:

Your hair is pretty. Do you use conditioner?

Steve tears it from his notebook and lays it flat atop his table in the library, smoothing out any crinkles in the page. It feels like the start to something, sure, but there’s more blank space on the page than words. By a lot.

He leans back over his work, adds a little wonky heart in his blue pen and signs the whole thing—

❤ your secret admirer

—the way all the girls who leave notes in his locker do. Their notes are usually on pretty paper, written in sparkly gel pen that smells like strawberries. The i’s are sometimes dotted with little hearts he’ll never admit to finding cute. And there’s envelopes involved, and usually more than eleven measly words.

His looks like something Eddie’ll toss out before opening, mistaking it for trash.

Steve grimaces. How do girls do this? Do they all take some sort of class on how to write pretty letters on pretty enough paper that boys will fall in love with them? Is that what they teach in Home Ec? He should have never let Tommy mock him into switching to shop class.

Should he ask a girl?

Under no conditions will he ever ask Carol. She’d have far too many uncomfortable questions and tell the whole school all of his embarrassing answers. He’d be run out of town within days, Carol holding the sharpest pitchfork.

Steve leans back in his chair with a groan too loud for the library and fists his hands to rub tired eyes.

“Are you okay?” Steve jerks, sending his pen and paper careening to the ground in his attempt to cover the compromising words upon the page. “Oh, sorry!”

Steve watches, horrified, as Chrissy Cunningham bends down to pick his supplies up off the carpet before he’s had time to scramble out of his chair. She’s in her cheer uniform, white zip-up Hawkins hoodie covering her arms. She looks perfect and preppy and just like all the girls who’ve ever left a note in his locker.

She’d be able to write something that Eddie would want to read.

“Steve?” Chrissy’s hovering over him, lips pursed, eyes big and worried. “Are you okay?”

“Shit, sorry,” he replies. She’s got his note clutched to her chest. He curls his fingers against the urge to reach out for it—that’ll just draw her attention, and that’s the last thing Steve wants right now. “Just got lost in my head.”

“Anything I can help with?”

He knows what she’s going to do before it happens. Chrissy’s sweet—if there’s a way to help, she’ll want to. So, she holds out the paper and begins to read, probably expecting an assignment she can tutor him on, and there they are: Steve’s damning words written in still-wet blue ink.

Her brow furrows as she takes an obscene amount of time mouthing out the words before she looks back up to meet his eyes. “Did someone give this to you?”

Her eyes are still big, but they look sad now, like just the thought of someone receiving the note he’d slaved over is enough to distress her. Unable to help himself, Steve snatches it from her hands and crumples it into a ball, damning words hidden in his fist.

Chrissy gasps at his abrupt movement and takes a halting step away.

“I wrote it,” he mutters, no longer able to meet her eyes.

She’s silent for long enough that he’d think she left, except the library’s quiet, and he hasn’t heard her take a step. He stares at the grains of the wood in the table, empty hand rubbing against the smudged top as he waits for her to do something.

“Are you…” she starts, trailing off for a moment before picking her thought back up, “…picking on someone?”

Steve clenches his fist tighter, note crinkling beyond repair beneath his nails as he mutters, “no.”

Chrissy’s quiet again. Steve doesn’t dare to look up, even as he hears the chair across from him pull out, the sound of her weight settling into the wood. The table’s just so interesting. Nothing has ever been as intriguing as the little chip out of its edge, the ring on the wood where someone had let their drink condensate against all the library’s rules.

“Who’s this for?” Chrissy’s voice is soft now, like he’s some sort of horse, prone to bolting when spooked. “Steve?”

Steve looks up. Her eyes aren’t sad anymore; they’re piercing.

He’s always liked Chrissy. She’s the nicest girl in the school, until someone does something she doesn’t like. Then, it’s all disappointed eyes, and pouty lips. It’s like disappointing his Mom, but worse, because his Mom’s never around to stare balefully at him.

The point is, Chrissy’s nice. She’s not like Carol. If he told her, there would be no lynch mob, or fleeing Hawkins in the dead of the night with nothing but the clothes on his back. Probably. Maybe.

Steve tries to smooth out the page, and scowls down at it when the wrinkles refuse to disappear. It’s even worse now, words made illegible by the deep creases his fingers have pressed into the paper. There’s no way Eddie’d ever want a note like this.

So, he says, “Munson,” looking up to try to watch his meaning land on her face.

It doesn’t. Her foreheads all scrunched up as she looks down at the note. Only then does Steve realize he’s caressing the wonky little heart. He pulls his hand back, curling his fingers in so she can’t see the smudge of blue on his pointer finger.

“And you aren’t making fun of him?”

Steve can feel his shoulders drooping. He wants to disappear into the floor, melt into the carpet and become one with all the other mysterious stains upon it. “No.”

“Oh,” Chrissy replies, drawn out and low as she peers down at the crinkled note with a confused frown. But something must click because she straightens, eyes wide beneath her bangs. “Oh!”

It’s loud enough that they both reflexively flinch. But, when no librarians come skulking around any corners, Chrissy turns back to him, gaze uncomfortably intent. Steve wonders, somewhat horrified by the turn his life has taken, if he’s about to get hate-crimed by a cheerleader half his size.

But Chrissy’s nice—always has been, always will be. So, she bites her lip and looks furtively around like she’s only just realized this is a conversation that shouldn’t have any witnesses. “But you like him?” she whispers.

Steve leans forward, matching her energy and pitch as he replies, “yeah,” quiet enough that it’s barely a breath. Chrissy smiles at him, warm and small, just like her hand as she reaches across the table to put it over his and squeeze comfortingly.

The note sits, damningly soiled beneath their linked hands, wrinkled, and smudged, and barely-legible handwriting. The weight that’d lifted with Chrissy’s smile sinks back into his gut.

“But it doesn’t matter,” Steve says, letting go of her hand so he can pull the note closer to himself. “I’m no good at this stuff.”

Steve crinkles the note back up. It’s unsalvageable—a stupid idea executed badly.

He’s in the middle of stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans to keep his keys company until he can toss it out in the comfort of his home when Chrissy says, “maybe I can help?” voice lilting up, like it’s a question.

Steve meets her eyes, hand still half-shoved in his pocket. She’s all earnest now, the way she usually is when there isn’t a sad boy infecting her with his own ineptitude. Eyes shining with conviction, bangs curling sweetly around her face. She’s no Carol, that’s for sure.

“How?” he asks, and when she smiles, it looks a bit like hope.

***

“I can help you write a better letter,” Chrissy starts. He perks up like a dog the moment its owner gets home. “If you do something for me.”

She feels like scum when he curls back into himself, gaze forlorn.

When she’d caught sight of the note he’d spent what seemed like a full hour pouring over, this isn’t what she’d been expecting. And when she’d finally made out his chicken scratch scrawl, she’d been sure Steve was picking on someone, no matter how unlike him it would have been. But then his shoulders had curled in, and his ears had turned red, and his voice had gone all soft and squishy when he’d said Eddie Munson’s name.

And she’d just wanted to fix it.

So, even as he asks, “what?” all sad and droopy again, she knows she’s going to help him, no matter what he says.

“Date me,” she asserts. It’s only as Steve blinks stupidly at her that she realizes how that came out of her mouth. “No, wait, not really!”

Her hands are waving around wildly and she can feel the blood rushing to her cheeks. In contrast, Steve seems to come back into himself, shoulders shoring up as he smirks across at her with his signature raised brow. The one he’d used while leaning on Nancy Wheeler’s locker last year, or holding her books as they walked to class, and all the other assortment of stereotypical boyfriend activities.

He’d worn it all the time, like it was part of the uniform.

“I just meant, we could fake it?” His right eyebrow raises to meet his left, forehead scrunching up with his incredulity. “It’s just, Jason and I broke up? And he won’t leave me alone.”

It takes all her strength to keep meeting his eyes as the seconds tick away. But then Steve nods, swings his letterman jacket off, and tosses it across at her. Unprepared for his sudden movement, it hits her in the face and drops into her lap.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he says with a cheesy wink that somehow manages to feel more genuine than any of his actual flirting techniques. “Gotta sell it somehow.”

“What a romantic,” she replies, deadpan, but she pulls his jacket on anyway, something that feels an awful lot like relief steadying her heart rate as she smooths down the too-long sleeves.

Jason’s going to freak out. But after that, maybe he’ll stop calling her house, and trying to put his arm around her at lunch, and trying to pick her up for school every morning. She’d do almost anything to get it into his thick skull that she’s not interested.

So, here she is, hashing out the details of a secret admirer letter from Steve Harrington to Eddie Munson, of all the unlikely pairings.

“What’s wrong with what I wrote?” Steve whines, running his fingers through his hair until it’s all mussed up and falling into his face.

Chrissy snorts. “It sounds like you’re telling him his hair is frizzy and dry.”

“I said it was pretty!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them and pouting his lower lip out.

Chrissy can’t help but laugh. She’s always liked Steve. He’s nicer than most of his friends, and he’s easy to talk to. But this is a side she’s never seen of him. She’s not sure anyone has; can’t imagine Carol or Tommy seeing him put his whole heart into something and not tearing it to shreds.

“Do you use conditioner?” she asks, throwing finger quotations around it as she reads it off the crumpled page.

Steve’s blushing again, cheeks all blotchy and red, rather unbecoming for the shoo-in for this year’s prom king. “Well, I thought you said you’d help!” he says, a little too loud for the library.

So, that’s how she ends up spending the next hour painfully turning Steve’s earnest thoughts into words on the pretty baby blue paper she’d carefully removed from the back of her daily planner.

In the end, they’re left with this:

Eddie –

I wish I could say this to your face, but I’ve never been good with words, and you’d probably think it was a joke.

I can’t even get myself to talk to you, you’re so distracting.

I like how pretty your hair is. How do you get your curls so shiny? I want to run my fingers through them.

I hope this note brightens up your day. You deserve all the smiles you can get.

Yours,

Your Secret Admirer

It’s not what she would write, but still, it’s leagues better than what he’d started with. She slides it across to Steve, and he smiles down at it. He reaches his hand out, fingers almost brushing the page before he pulls his hand back, curling his fingers into a fist.

“What if someone sees me?” he asks, voice so quiet she can barely hear him even in the resounding silence of the library.

They’d managed not to talk about it, the dangers of Steve liking a boy. But it’d been present in the hesitancy by which he shared each of his thoughts, looking up at her like each remark would be the last straw before she recoils in disgust.

If someone finds out that Steve has a crush on a boy, it won’t take long until he’s getting beat up between classes or heckled straight out of school. Heck, even with all the rumors floating around about him, Eddie might be the one to throw the first punch.

“Do you want me to deliver it for you?” she asks.

“You’d do that?” he asks back, because apparently no one ever taught him not to answer a question with a question. “For me?”

“What else are fake girlfriends for?” she asks because they’re all questions now, no answers to be had between the pair of them.

Steve laughs, all tension leaving his shoulders as he throws his head back with amusement, eyes downright twinkling as he beams across at her.

“You’re the best, Chrissy,” Steve says, smiling even brighter as she replies, “I know.”

She leaves school that night after pushing Steve Harrington’s love note through the slats of Eddie’s locker, Steve’s letterman jacket keeping her warm from the cold.

This might be the best relationship she’s ever had, fake or not. Eat your heart out, Jason Carver.

PART 2

Welcome to my new AU! This will be posted in 21 parts. It is complete, so there will be a new update each morning until it's all posted. I've elected not to do a tag list, but it will be added to my pinned post each day as well. If that's not your speed, it will be added to Ao3 once it's all been posted here.

Special shoutout to @queenie-ofthe-void for not only their usual fabulous beta work, but also both the original idea and the writing of some of the secret admirer letters. You not only make me a better writer, but this work literally would not exist without you. <3<3

Title of the fic from the song Eyes in the Sun by Florist

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #my fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #this has been a silly goofy wonderful labor of love I am now releasing into the wild for all of you <3 #also for those of you who voted in that poll #i elected to post the batches in about 4k or less parts because that's about my own personal cap for enjoyment in reading fics on tumblr #longer than that and i have a propensity to run out of time and lose it so!#here you go

243 notes · View notes

corner-master · 1 hour ago

Text

Imagine Danny gaining at first a passive interest in bee's due to Sam talking about how she'd prefer sourcing honey from local bee farms over commercial honey makers. It technically counts as plant-based which means, given her particular brand of vegetarianism, it therefore is among the many hills she'll proudly die on to project her beliefs to the world at large.

Unfortunately for everyone during the last ghost attack one of the latest casualties happened to be the local beekeepers hives. Given the amount of loss said beekeeper's have chosen to close shop and relocate elsewhere that doesn't have a ghost infestation. Sam's a bit bummed at first, but then decides she'll start her own farm, and basically drags Danny and Tucker into her latest passion project. She even manages to buy the plot of land the bee hives used to be on for dirt cheap (possibly one of the only benefits that come out of the attacks).

Sure, at first Danny and Tucker are pretty reluctant because they're teenagers and why would they want to spend the little free time they have between school and the occasional ghost fights working? The whining only lasts until Sam tells them it's basically passive money making, and you only spend a couple days out of the year actually harvesting the honey. The rest of the time can be spent just keeping the bee's safe from pests and predators and just keeping them happy, which really isn't a lot of work. The Moment Tucker hears money, he's sold, and Danny decides that since both his friends are in he might as well join them.

This is where things start to get interesting because one of the first things they do is sit down to spitball ideas at one another on how to make this a success. Tucker's motivation in the project is purely the profits and doing a little research quickly brings up the fact that Mono-floral hives, that is hives that feed on a single species of flowers, produce honey that can be sold for more than standard wild honey. Sam immediately jumps in and says that she won't be introducing any invasive species to the area. Tuck argues that they're just flowers, and Sam counters that if they spread it could screw over the native populations, and she wasn't willing to have that particular travesty attached to her name.

Just as the two are about to get into another explosive row defending their stances Danny pipes up that he could make something to keep everything contained.

For this particular idea, I'm going off the personal head-canon that despite his academic grades Danny is in fact a Bonafide genius much like the rest of his Family. He has a particular affinity in ecto-based mechanical engineering but he's no slouch in any of the sciences. Granted, It's kind of hard not to pick up these things when your parents are disassembling the random tech parts they scavenge from the junkyard and reassembling them into semi-functional contraptions at the dining table. You tend to pick them up even faster when you have to sometimes finish fixing it up so it doesn't blow up in your face but... well, that's not what's important right now. What is important is that Danny has the ability to manufacture an ecto-plasmic barrier that can easily keep everything neatly contained.

But this is only the beginning.

A spark has been ignited and, just like every other member of his family that has come across a problem that has caught their interest, it quickly consumes him.

Over the next couple hours he dives deep into researching all the current and prior methods of beekeeping, identifying all the pros and cons and problems that these methods come across and modifying them with a little Fenton ingenuity. He quickly settles on the using the Bottle Colony method to house the hives for multiple reasons:

1: Using human safe plastic bottles are lighter and therefore easier to maneuver around, as well as allow for transparent viewing of the Hive to make it easier to identify problems that need to be addressed.

2: The actual transparency of the bottle won't be a problem either. All they'll need to do is make some slip on insulators that'll block out the light and also regulate the temperature so the bee's neither fry when it gets hot nor freeze when winter sets in, so the bee's can stay content year-round.

2: Colony degeneration often occurs because the cells used to house the larvae will grow smaller with each consecutive use, resulting in smaller and smaller bees. This may also lead the queen to start laying eggs in the upper part of the hive where the honey is stored instead of the lower parts. By swapping out the top bottles and adding fresh ones at the bottom, this will allow the hives to keep the brood down low and reuse the upper cells for honey instead.

3: Wood hives have a tendency to get wet and develop mold which can not only affect the health of the colony but affect the honey as well. And while yes, the bottles themselves can also become wet, they show a significantly much lower chance of producing mold, given that the moisture would run down the sides of the bottle to the opening at the bottom instead of absorbing into the material itself.

4: The bottle method is largely contactless, which unlike the wooden frame method would cause less disturbance to the bees. it also would reduce the chances of getting stung.

5: Unlike the wooden frame structures which usually have to make contact with the ground, bottle colonies can be left suspended in the air or attached to the sides of buildings or posts, further limiting the intrusion of smaller pests.

6: Intangibility~ while this is mostly limited to him, he could just reach into the plastic bottles and easily carve out sections of honeycomb, instead of having to cut open the bottles and then discarding the plastic waste in the recycle bin. This would also make it easy to remove the queen cells to prevent swarming.

Oh, but remember that Fenton ingenuity he mentioned? Using this particular method, he could hook up a little dispensary system that can not only spread the antibiotics and medicine that will help keep the bee's healthy, but even shoot out smoke when the time comes to harvest so the bees remain calm. Heck, they could even be used to dispense sugar syrup so the bees would have more resources to replace the honey harvested.

Not only this, but he could easily set up a containment chamber that would capture a large percentage of the drones inhabiting the hive and let him safely relocate them to be disposed elsewhere because the drones? largely useless outside of mating. They have no stingers, so they can't defend the hive. They can't even eat unless they get help from the worker bees, which means wasted resources on what is about ten percent of the population, when only a handful would actually be necessary to breed queens from foreign hives. Which could be done in an enclosed space to ensure best breeding practices.

"But what about the Bee Inspectors?" Sam Pipes up from the Couch her and Tucker have sitting on, watching Danny basically Spiral into a "Fenton™" brainstorm. "Some places require inspectors to be able to pull out the sections of hive so they can check for mites or other problems. Thats why most beekeepers use frames, since otherwise the inspectors might force them to destroy the hive."

"My parents have built any number of devices that were designed to detect ghosts..." Danny replies, after a pause to take in this unexpected road bump. "... it wouldn't exactly be hard to reprogram one or two of them to scan the hives for a more normal kind of pest."

He sighs, dragging a hand down the side of his face. "And that's assuming we'd even have to deal with any inspectors that didn't choose to treat us like a bunch of lepers the moment they saw me. Fenton, remember?" he said, waving a hand up and down himself.

Sam and Tucker both wince in sympathetic pain at the reminder of just how...well-known Danny's parent's have become in recent years.

"And if one happens to be brave enough to stick around and decides the scanner isn't good enough, we can always take one of Vlad's old bugs lying around and repurpose it to give us an inside view." Danny snorts, turning back to his notes. "At least one of the Fruitloops "gifts" could be useful for once."

"Moving on-"

As for Tuckers idea for Mono-floral honey? Vertical Flower gardens. That way there's more flowers for that hive to get nectar from in the limited space provided by the shields.

Get Tucker to set up alerts that will let them know if they needed to check up on anything and boom! All the hard work (for now) is done.

*this is also all I got for now. This is just the version where I set things up for a largely normal bee farm. this isn't even getting into the intricacies of what ectoplasmic exposure will do to these bee's or their byproducts. I'm going let someone else go down the eldritch path, for now, I'm out.*

Danny Phantom AU where he’s a beekeeper

#Danny Phantom #Did I use this to set up my idea of an ideal bee farm?#yes #Did I look up rules about beekeeping after writing most of this down?#Also yes. ignore the tear marks on my face. those are just an aesthetic choice and mean absolutely nothing #Did I spend several hours when I was dead tired and should have been sleeping to write this up?#no comment #mine

818 notes · View notes

earthchica · 3 days ago

Text

Funny How Time Flies

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you are a shy, introverted person who wants to break out of your shell and experience fun at least once in your life. During a mutual friend's group trip, you meet Terry and have the best sex with him. Once the fun is over, will you and Terry stay in touch?

warnings: explicit smut (18+), light use of daddy, foul language, dirty talking, dom/sub, oral (f), pussy slaps, fingering, unprotected sex, nicknames (beautiful, baby, baby girl), words: (3k)

note: hey, I'm working on another mini-series, but this one is sweet, wholesome, and freaky! let me know your thoughts and if you want to be tagged in future parts. please enjoy!

You’ve been shy and introverted your entire life, often feeling tired of this loneliness. Your daily routine typically consists of working, exercising, and returning home, which leaves little opportunity for social interaction or adventure.

While you go out when you want to, most of your time is spent at home with your loving dog. Despite that, you know something is missing—particularly, a boyfriend and a more vibrant social life.

The anxiety stemming from your shyness made it difficult for you to step outside your comfort zone. You want to seek more experiences beyond the walls of your home and be more outgoing.

When your friends Sasha and Maya invited you on a group trip, you accepted. They were surprised but happy and reassured you that you wouldn’t feel left out or awkward during the trip.

Sasha, in particular, couldn’t contain her excitement, as explained by her boyfriend, Bryce. He was bringing his old marine friend, Terry Richmond.

You met the girls at the airport and greeted them with hugs. Sasha explained that Bryce and Cameron needed to find Terry, which made you feel nervous. She told you a little about him, but ultimately, you would have to form your own opinion about him.

"Oh, here they come! Finally,” Sasha replied, gesturing towards three tall, fit men in the distance.

Bryce was a tall, dark-skinned man, while Cam was kind of brown-skinned since he was lighter than Bryce. Then your eyes led to him. Who must be Terry?

At that moment, you felt an undeniable spark of love at first sight. Terry was slightly taller than Bryce and Cam and had a lighter skin tone.

He was so handsome, with good hands, good lips, and, good god, a nice body!!! He was fine, and you wanna intertwine him.

"Good, made it back on time and found big dawg," Bryce nudged Terry on the arm, laughed, and then moved over to Sasha.

"Yeah, bro was at the wrong damn gate/terminal," Cam said, walking over to Maya and greeted her with a kiss on the forehead.

"My fault; it's been a minute since I've been at the damn airport; y'all know I don't travel a lot," Terry chuckled lightly as he caught you staring, prompting you to look away.

"Well, we're glad you found him. Now...um, Terry, I want you to meet someone," Maya said with a smile.

He raised his eyebrows curiously and she motioned towards you and introduced you to Terry by using your name.

“Hey, there!” He said, giving a polite wave, and you just stared at him. Everyone looked at you, awaiting your response, but nothing came out until Sasha nudged you.

“Hi,” you said, waving back with a small mile. You held his gaze for a moment, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach, before shyly turning your eyes away.

The flight to Cancun, Mexico, is currently boarding for its scheduled departure at 1 PM. Passengers are advised to have their boarding passes and identification ready and to proceed to the gate promptly.

"Okay, that's us. Who's ready to get Lit?" Maya clapped her hands, easing the awkwardness and creating a more hype vibe.

Sasha wrapped her arm around your shoulders playfully, giving you a knowing look through her sunglasses.

"Look at you, drooling all over Terry already; I told you he would be your type," She teased, and you playfully hit her arm.

Soon enough, you were all on the plane, and of course, you were sitting next to Terry. He was talking to you, but you felt so nervous that your responses were short.

You both had a lot in common: you were single, didn’t get out much, and were on this trip to have fun. You couldn’t believe that a handsome man like Terry wanted to talk to you despite your shyness.

Terry was eager to talk to you from the moment he first saw you. He felt a strong connection and wanted to get to know you better. He was really glad he decided to go on this trip because your sweet and shy nature made him want to break you out of your shell.

“You're kind of the shy and quiet type, huh?! I like that; some people say I'm reserved, so I guess I can relate,"

"You don't seem like it; you seem like an outgoing person." You look at him for a second. His captivating hazel-green eyes burn into yours, causing a flutter in your chest.

"Well, I sometimes can be both; I'm a little reserved when I don't know the person, but if I know you, I'm more open, I guess," Terry explained, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

"What makes me so different?" You asked in a playful tone, building some confidence.

Terry laughs and smirks, "I guess you're that special!"

You felt like your heart exploded the way he looked at you, obviously attracted to you. You just nodded, looking away, trying to hide your smile.

“Hey....come on, I was just getting used to hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Terry said, leaning in, and your breath hitched.

You and Terry chatted throughout the entire plane ride. Although you were still a bit shy, you found yourself being more talkative than before, which felt positive.

Perhaps Terry was just what you needed for this trip. Once your group arrived at the stunning villa, you marveled at its beautiful interior.

“Alright,” Maya announced, her enthusiasm infectious as she gathered everyone to discuss the week's activities. She carefully ensured everyone felt included and excited about them.

Maya suggested you all chill and settle into our bedrooms for the afternoon. You began rolling your heavy suitcase down the hall, its wheels clicking softly against the floor.

“Do you need a hand?” Terry asked, approaching with a friendly smile and ready to help you with your suitcase.

"Yeah, thanks." You said with a small smile, walking to your bedroom door and walking in.

"You can put it right there, " You said, pointing at the chair before you and indicating that he should place it there. Terry glanced at you curiously as if he were too nervous to ask a question.

A moment of silent communication passes between you. Terry stepped forward, closing the distance, and you felt your heart race.

You instinctively wanted to shy away, but you fought against the urge, reminding yourself to be brave.

“I hope this doesn’t sound too forward, but I would love to take you on a date tonight. I am drawn to you and want to crack your shy shell and see what’s inside. Of course, only if you want me to," He expressed with a hopeful smile.

“I would love that, Terry,” You said with a smile. Terry smiled back, gave you his number, and set the date plans.

He walked out, winking at you as he left the bedroom. You bit your lip and excitedly squealed, jumping dramatically onto the comfortable bed.

You told the girls about the date, and they were so excited that they went upstairs to your bedroom to help you out.

“I don’t think I can do this; it's been so long since i've been on a date, and all together, I'm shy as fuck” You said, getting your nerves up.

“Babe, it’s fine. You need this, and Terry is an amazing guy. We wouldn't have brought him on this trip if we didn't know he would be perfect for you.” Sasha says, ease your anxiety a lot more.

“Sasha is right; just have fun and let go, but not too much; you might get dicknotized,” Maya smiles playfully as she hands you a sexy yellow dress that catches the light beautifully.

"This will look amazing on you," She added, her eyes sparkling excitedly. As you slipped into the dress, your nerves faded, replaced by a sense of pride.

Maya's perfume filled the room as she sprayed on you; it had a familiar and comforting aroma.

Sasha, the fashionista, was styling your box braids and applying your makeup while you looked in the mirror.

"Remember," She said, glancing over her shoulder, "confidence is key. Just be yourself."

After saying bye to Sasha and Maya, you closed the door behind you and took a deep breath. You were walking downstairs and Terry stood there at the bottom, clearly waiting for you.

His eyes widened, taking in every detail. You couldn't help but giggle at his look of awe. He seemed captivated by your radiant beauty, his gaze lingering on your elegant curves.

“Wow, you look beautiful,” Terry said. You smiled and looked him over, noticing he was wearing a black button-up shirt and shorts.

"Thank you. Um..you look beautif-I mean handsome!" You cursed at yourself in your mind, feeling totally embarrassed, and Terry found it cute.

"Thanks! Are you ready?" Terry asked, holding his arm out with a smile and you happily accepted.

Both of you walk leisurely down the path, arm in arm while listening to the gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore accompanies you as you make your way to the charming ocean-view restaurant that overlooks the sparkling waters.

You and Terry walk inside, and the warm glow of the intimate setting welcomes you. You find a cozy table for two awaiting your arrival. Moments later, a friendly waiter approaches, ready to take your drink orders.

While waiting, Terry struck up a conversation that flowed effortlessly. His warm smile and engaging demeanor made it easy to share about yourself. With every exchanged joke and smile, you found yourself becoming more comfortable, as if he had a talent for bringing out the best in people.

His smooth charm was evident; he made you feel special and understood, gently encouraging you to step out of your shy little shell and embrace the moment because the air between you crackled with sexual tension, growing palpable by the minute.

The waiter approached your table, balancing a tray of drinks that shimmered in the dim light. He set them down before you with a polite smile. After taking your food orders, he left you both.

Terry, his eyes sparkling, leaned in closer, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“While we wait, how about we play a game of ‘Would you rather?’” Terry proposed, the excitement in his voice making the suggestion feel inviting.

"Okay," You replied, intrigued and ready to dive into the game.

“Okay, would you rather…” Terry started, propping his chin on his hand as he contemplated the question.

“Would you rather live deep in the ocean or explore the vastness of space?”

You paused for a moment, considering the options carefully. “Hmm, that’s a tough choice. But I think I would choose space,” You finally replied.

“Mmm, interesting! What makes you lean toward space?” Terry inquired, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I have always been interested in space and astronomy. If I could, I would be an astronaut, and the experience would be exciting,” You said, taking a sip of your wine.

"Wow, I would love to learn more about that, but it's your turn," Terry said, his eyes lighting up with curiosity and a warm smile spreading across his face. The "Would You Rather" game had been going for a while and had taken a slightly naughty turn.

Before long, the waiter arrives with both of your meals, setting them down on the table with a flourish. As the delightful aromas fill the air, you take a moment to appreciate the dishes before returning to Terry.

Intrigued by the connection you two are building, you changed the subject wanting to know about Terry's interests and experiences, eager to learn more about his passions.

Terry paused mid-sentence, his gaze falling on your necklace, which had come unhooked. With a gentle smile, he leaned in close and secured the clasp.

You found yourself momentarily lost in the warmth of his touch, savoring the soft caress against your dark brown skin, a delightful contrast that sent a shiver of warmth through you.

Terry pulled away, a smirk playing on his lips, and effortlessly transitioned back into talking as if nothing had happened. You couldn't help but notice his subtle game; it was working on you like a charm.

Your desire was intense, and your craving seemed to deepen with every word he spoke. You were utterly captivated, wanting him more than ever before.

After dinner, you both walk silently side by side on the beach. Your hands nearly touch until Terry grabs yours and holds it, making you smile.

You slowly look up at him, and you find that his eyes are already fixed on you.

"What?" You asked.

"Just admiring how gorgeous you are," Terry stopped you from walking by wrapping his arms around your plump waist.

You touched his chest, thinking you both would finally kiss. But Terry was teasing you again. He lifted you slightly, catching you off guard and causing you to drop your purse and heels.

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing, Terry?” You gasped, struggling to escape his firm hold on you.

“Let’s get in the water; I bet it’s cold,” He said, trying to pull you closer.

“No, Terry!” You squealed, quickly breaking free from his grasp and running away from him with your tongue sticking out.

“Hey!” he yelled, chasing after you. When he finally caught you, he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind and started tickling you.

You bounced up and down with laughter, trying to escape his grip. Just as Terry was about to say something, he accidentally tripped over something in the sand. Both of you fell together. You looked at him, and he looked at you.

You both laughed as Terry rolled off of you, pulling you onto his chest and kissing the top of your head, making your heart flutter. He eventually helped you out of the sand and retrieved your purse and heels.

Feeling a surge of confidence, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, surprising him with the suddenness of your action. As you pulled back, a shy smile crept onto your face, and you turned your gaze to the side, feeling excitement and nervousness.

In an instant, Terry reached out, his fingers gently cupping your cheek, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes searched yours, a blend of sweetness and warmth reflected in them.

Then, without breaking his gaze, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he kissed you, igniting a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You let out a muffled moan, feeling his hands gliding over your ass with a gentle yet teasing touch. Your breath caught in your throat, pulling away while feeling him firmly grasping it.

"Do you wanna continue this back at the villa?" Terry asked, his eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you.

"Yes," you said, nodding firmly as you still held the gaze. Your voice remained steady, even as a whirlwind of emotions surged within you—excitement, desire, and a hint of nervousness mingled together.

Once stepped into the bedroom, Terry pressed you against the solid door. His lips met yours in a passionate, rough kiss, feeling an electric spark hit and made your heart race.

"I've been waiting to take this dress off you since I saw you in it," He murmured in your ear, running his hands down the bodice of your yellow dress.

"And it's just driving me wild," He whispered, which made you shiver.

"Well, take it off if you're brave enough," You spoke boldly, which made him smirk.

You gasped as he lifted you in his arms and carried you to the bed. You still couldn't get over the fact that he was so strong to pick you up, which was a turn-on for you.

He picked you down as both of you stood at the edge of the bed; he was kissing your neck, and his lips peppered on your dark-brown skin, pausing here and there to suck on the sensitive flesh.

His hand reached behind your back to find the zipper of your dress, pushing it down to your feet. You step out of it, and his hands touch your exposed breasts.

As you stood there, a wave of insecurity washed over you, causing you to shy away slightly. Just when you thought about retreating and hiding yourself, Terry stopped you. His gaze was steady and inviting, searching your eyes.

"You're beautiful, baby. Don't hide from me!" He whispers genuinely, making you feel warm inside. You kiss him as his hands grip your breasts.

You let out a soft moan, pulling away and popping his black button-up shirt open. You admired his abs and slid your fingers down his chest.

Terry shivered slightly at your touch; you had the same effect on him as he had on you. Both of you practically ripped each other's clothes. You gently laid yourself down as Terry hovered above you.

You pulled him down for another kiss as he cupped your right breast in his hand while his lips moved away from yours. His tongue dragged across the dark area of your areola.

"Such nice big tits, so good to suck," Terry growls and grabs both of your breasts with his hand, squeezing and sucking them, causing you to whimper.

"How does that feel, baby?" He asked, pulling away from sucking your nipples as his right hand traveled down to your wet folds, and circled them.

A loud moan escaped your lips, felt him push two fingers inside of you, prompting you to cover your mouth to avoid being heard by the others.

"Nah, baby girl, none of that. You have no idea how desperate I want to hear you moan for me. If you don’t let yourself make any sounds, I’ll have to find a way to draw them out."

"Yes-yes....ohhhh....It-it feels good....ahh......so good," You moaned, feeling him moved below and rested between your plump legs, glancing up at you. He spread them wide, getting a good look at your pussy.

"Mmmm, a pretty girl with a pretty pussy" He said before placing his hands on your legs and dragging his tongue between your wet folds.

"Yes....fuck....ahh fuck" You moaned, arching your back and grabbing your breasts as he repeated the action with more pressure, his tongue sliding against your bundle of nerves.

"Mmm, tastes so damn good, girl" His hands were holding your wide hips as he continued to suck and lick you dry, drawing desperate soft moans from your mouth.

Terry buried deeper between your plump legs, which was driving you crazy. The pleasure you were feeling going through your body was so overwhelming.

"Ahh fuck, Terry fucking eat this pussy, mutherfucka" You moaned, and your fingers gently caressed his head, relishing the closeness of him.

Terry chuckles. "Mmm, there you go, keep talking nasty to me, baby. I see I'm bringing the best out of you, the freak in you," He said before resuming devouring your pussy.

Another loud moan escaped your lips as the pleasure built within you, clenching around his fingers while you felt yourself getting close.

"Are you gonna cum, beautiful?" He asked, moving up to look into your eyes and began to finger fuck you fast.

"Yes, Terry, oh shit.....fuck-fuck don't stop fuck." You cried, suddenly cumming hard, eyes rolling in the back of your head.

"Yeah, that's it, baby girl. Fucking cum for Daddy," Terry said, still fingering you and then smacking your pussy as wet gushing came out of you, causing you to cry.

"Shit, look at that, baby. And I did all that with my tongue and fingers; I can't wait to see how your pussy takes my dick" He said with a chuckle, licking his fingers, and you watched him coming down from your intense high.

You kissed him, slightly tasting yourself as he cupped your breast in his hand while your hand slid down his chest to his throbbing dick; you got a good look at it and gasped at it.

"Like what you see?" Terry whispered in your ear.

"Yes, it's so big," You moaned, moving your hand up and down his length as you kissed him again but deeply. A very deep moan came from his mouth when you got a little faster.

"Fuck, girl, I need you…" Terry said with a slight moan, which made you smile. He moved on top of you and slowly entered your folds, causing you to go bananas.

You were loving the fullness of his thickness inside of you as he began thrusting, drawing soft moans from you. Terry asked, looking down at you to see if it was good, but you nodded.

"Come on, baby. Don't get shy on me again; tell me how it feels?" He asked, his hands on your waist sliding down to grasp your wide hips, pulling you closer so he could bury himself deeper.

"Yes, Terry fuck me, fuck it feels good!" You moaned, wrapping your plump legs around his waist tighter, allowing a new, delicious angle that you both liked.

Your moans became louder and more frequent as his thrusts came faster but still as gently and passionately as ever.

"That's it, girl....let everyone know i'm fucking this pussy good, You like it, you like how I am fucking you" Terry moaned while his rhythm never stopped looking down at you with so much desire and lust;

"Oh yes, Daddy fuck me, it feels so good," You cried, looking up at him as he lifted your legs to his shoulders and pounding into you faster and harder but much more profound.

"Take that fucking dick like a good girl;" Terry growled, tightening his grip on your legs.

"....fuck are you about to cum, baby?" Terry moaned, feeling the warmth of your walls, clenched around him.

"Oh....yes, fuckfuckfuck..I'm-I'm cumming-" You moaned, digging your nails deep into his arms and scratching down.

"Fucking let it go, baby."

"AHHH!!" You screamed, coming hard again and Terry wasn't too far behind, cursing, pulling out; your legs immediately fell to his waist as his hot cum spurted all over your belly, making you slightly giggle.

"Shit," Terry cursed, lowered himself, and propped up on his left arm as his head buried in your neck.

He entirely collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him. You slid your hand up and down his sweaty back while he gave you small, lazy kisses on your face and neck.

Terry rolls off you, and both of you calm down from your high. You bite your lip and turn to prop yourself up to look at him.

"That was—" You couldn't decide what word to use. It was beyond amazing, it was...

"Mind-blowing, yeah," He agreed, looking at you and lifting himself up to kiss you.

"Up for another round in the shower?"He asked, pulling away and caressing your hip.

"Yes!" Both of you smirked at each other and got out of bed to walk to the bathroom; Terry made you cum two more times that night.

#terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x reader #terry richmond smut #terry richmond x black!reader #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fanfiction #aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #terry richmond #terry richmond x black fem reader #black!fem!reader #black fem reader #terry richmond x black! fem plus size reader #terry Richmond x plus size reader #terry richmond x fem reader

297 notes · View notes

solxamber · 2 days ago

Text

Promises in Moonlight || Malleus Draconia

You've chosen Malleus!

Falling for Malleus was like finding warmth in the heart of Briar Valley's mist—slow, unyielding, and all-consuming.

Prologue ; 1k Masterlist

You’ve finally decided to take Malleus up on his invitation. After debating for what feels like forever (and Grim mocking you for "acting like a smitten fool"), you pull out your phone and text him, "I’d love to go for that walk with you!"

The reply you get is instant, as if Malleus had been sitting with his phone, eagerly awaiting your response:

"Dearest Child of Man, your acceptance fills me with an immeasurable sense of joy. I shall meet you at the courtyard shortly. Together, we will bask in the serenity of the night, under the gentle watch of the stars. Until then, may your anticipation for our evening be as bright as the moon above."

You can’t help but laugh. It’s the most Malleus text ever. It’s endearing in that formal, poetic, almost ancient way of his, and you feel warmth blooming in your chest as you quickly send a more casual, "Can’t wait :)" back to him.

Fast forward to later that evening, and Malleus arrives at Ramshackle Dorm. He’s looking as regal as ever, his usual air of authority softened by the way he looks at you. It’s not often you see Malleus trying to be cute, but he’s definitely putting in the effort. Before you can greet him properly, Grim trots up to Malleus with his chest puffed out.

"Hear me out, Tall, Dark, and Spooky," Grim begins, sounding like he’s about to bestow a grave responsibility, "You better keep my henchhuman safe tonight. If anything happens to ‘em, I’ll… I’ll bite your ankles or somethin’!"

You glance sideways at Grim, trying not to snicker. Malleus blinks once, twice, then solemnly nods. "Fear not, small creature," he says, placing a hand over his heart. "I shall protect them as though they were a rare treasure."

Grim gives a self-satisfied nod, satisfied with Malleus’s promise, but mutters under his breath, "Better be careful with those big words, pal. You’ll confuse yourself."

Malleus, seemingly oblivious to Grim’s muttering, reaches into his coat pocket and produces a delicate, ethereal flower that looks like it was plucked straight from a fairy tale. He offers it to you with a small, proud smile. "I thought this would suit you."

You accept the flower, grinning. "It’s beautiful. But… I’m going to put it in my hair so I can hold your hand instead."

Malleus blinks, looking a bit caught off guard but quickly recovering. "Of course." His eyes light up as he helps you tuck the flower into your hair, then immediately offers you his hand.

As your fingers intertwine with his, you catch a glimpse of Malleus looking rather pleased with himself. The two of you set off on your walk, and the cool night air feels refreshing as you stroll through the nearly deserted campus.

The silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s peaceful. You walk in step with Malleus, both of you just existing in the shared space. Occasionally, you glance over at him, and he meets your gaze with a small smile, looking like he’s perfectly content just to be here with you.

After a while, Malleus breaks the silence. "I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve arranged for something a little… special tonight," he says, his tone carrying just a hint of mystery.

"Oh? What kind of ‘special’?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

"You’ll see soon enough." There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leads you to Diasomnia.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with a scene that is, frankly, a chaotic masterpiece. The room has been transformed—or rather, overrun—with blankets, pillows, and a massive screen set up at the front. It looks like a makeshift home theater… if home theaters had Malleus-themed decorations plastered everywhere.

Sebek, naturally, is standing near the entrance, looking way too serious for a casual movie night. You spot Silver, slouched on a couch, looking like he’s already resigned to his fate. And then there’s Lilia, standing proudly beside what can only be described as an abomination of a dish.

"Welcome!" Lilia says, grinning as you take in the scene. "I’ve prepared a meal that will enhance your movie-watching experience!"

"By enhance, do you mean threaten our health?" Silver mutters under his breath.

Lilia just winks at you. "It’s a very special recipe. A relic of ancient times!"

"More like an ancient curse," Silver mumbles, though he doesn’t even try to argue anymore.

You bite back a laugh, eyeing the dish with mild suspicion. It’s bubbling. You’re pretty sure it shouldn’t be bubbling.

"Yeah, I think I’ll pass on the ancient relic stew, but thanks," you say diplomatically, backing away just a little.

Malleus, meanwhile, is over by the movie selection, poring over the options like he’s deciding on the fate of the universe.

While you wait, you notice the posters—of Malleus. Everywhere. "Sebek," you say slowly, "why… are there so many Malleus posters?"

Sebek, looking proud as ever, gestures grandly at the posters. "It’s only fitting to surround ourselves with the greatness of Lord Malleus during such a significant event!"

"You mean… movie night?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Every moment spent in Lord Malleus’s presence is significant!" Sebek declares, his voice booming through the room.

You glance at Silver, who’s barely staying awake on the couch. "You’re just… going to let this happen?" you ask him.

Silver shrugs, not even opening his eyes. "I tried. He wouldn’t listen."

Meanwhile, Lilia sidles up to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Isn’t this just the most romantic setting? Blankets, pillows, and the gentle glow of Malleus-themed lighting?" He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help but laugh. "Very romantic," you say dryly. "Nothing says ‘date night’ like staring at your date’s face plastered on every surface."

Malleus returns, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him, and gently takes your hand. "I believe I’ve found the perfect movie for us," he says.

You nod, smiling up at him, and soon the others—after a bit more banter (and an exaggerated wink from Lilia)—excuse themselves, leaving you and Malleus alone. Well, alone except for the giant Malleus plushie you’ve decided to cuddle.

"You’re… quite fond of that plushie," Malleus remarks, clearly amused as you hug it to your chest.

You grin. "What can I say? It’s cute. Though the real thing is a lot more handsome."

Malleus chuckles softly, his voice low and warm. "I’m glad you think so."

The movie begins, but it’s hard to focus when you’re so comfortable, leaning against Malleus with the plushie in your arms. His presence is soothing, his warmth comforting, and before you know it, you’re resting your head on his shoulder.

Malleus tenses slightly at first, then relaxes, letting out a contented sigh. His fingers gently trace circles on your hand, and you can feel the smile tugging at his lips even though you’re not looking directly at him.

By the time the movie ends, you’re both so relaxed that moving feels like an unnecessary chore. But, eventually, Malleus stands and offers his hand to help you up.

"Shall I walk you back to your dorm?" he asks, his tone as soft as the night air outside.

You nod, still clutching the Malleus plushie. "I’m keeping this, by the way."

Malleus looks genuinely pleased. "I’m honored that you would want a keepsake of me."

You laugh softly, feeling a bit giddy as the two of you walk back to Ramshackle, hand in hand. The stars twinkle overhead, but all you can focus on is the warmth of Malleus’s hand in yours.

When you reach the dorm, Malleus stops at the entrance, gently lifting your hand to his lips for a soft kiss. "I hope you enjoyed our evening," he says, his voice low and sincere.

Your heart flutters, but before you can overthink it, you lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. "I did," you say, grinning. Then, with a quick wave, you bounce inside, feeling giddy and lighthearted.

Behind you, Malleus watches with that same soft, fond smile—the one that makes you feel like you’re the one who hung the moon and stars in the sky.

You’re making friendship bracelets. A totally normal, human, dorm-room craft project that you figured would be a simple way to spend time with Malleus. Only, you didn't realize that trying to explain the concept of “friendship bracelets” to a fae prince would result in the single most baffling night of his life.

“...so, wait.” He holds up the half-done bracelet, staring at it like it’s a cryptic relic. “This braided string will signify… a bond?”

You nod enthusiastically, handing him another bead. “Yep! It’s a human tradition. It means you’re, like, symbolically connected, so whenever you look at the bracelet, you remember the person who made it for you.”

He stares at the half-finished bracelet with grave intensity, as if he’s holding a sacred relic. “So, this… strand of colored threads… will tether me to you, even in times when we are apart?”

You nod again, trying not to giggle. “Exactly. Just a cute, little reminder of our friendship.”

He considers this with such solemnity that you can practically see him pondering the metaphysical implications of colored yarn.

“What magic does it require?” he asks after a beat, fully serious.

You blink. “Magic? Oh, it doesn’t need magic. It’s… just a bracelet.”

His brow furrows, and he holds up his attempt at weaving, which, frankly, looks more like a knotted ball than anything close to a bracelet. “I see. So, human enchantments rely on symbolism rather than spells.”

You bite back a laugh. “Uh… sure. Yeah, it’s symbolic magic.”

“Fascinating.” He looks down at his tangled knot of yarn, nodding solemnly. “Then I must ensure my own… symbol is woven with the utmost care. For a bond such as ours, it must not unravel.”

You’re halfway through yours when you realize he’s been muttering to himself, beads and string in hand, whispering things like, “May this braid carry my promise of loyalty” and “I vow to protect our bond with the same devotion I would give the throne.”

He even brings his hand to his heart at one point, closing his eyes with the bracelet pressed to his chest. You’re struggling not to laugh as he gives what is essentially a formal vow to the bracelet.

“Malleus,” you say, finally unable to hold it in, “you know it’s just a bracelet, right? You don’t have to swear a whole oath.”

He looks up, slightly flustered. “Ah… right. Of course.” He clears his throat, but there’s a bit of a pink tinge to his cheeks. “Well… if it carries the weight of our connection, I should still approach it with appropriate respect.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile. “It’s honestly perfect just as it is.”

He holds out the knotted, lopsided braid he’s made, eyes gleaming. “Then, I present to you, my friendship… symbol.”

You accept it with a grin, tying it on. “Thanks, Malleus. This might be the most intense friendship bracelet I’ve ever gotten.”

“Of course,” he replies, smiling gently. “It is a pledge. And… I’ll think of you, whenever I see it.”

You bite back a laugh again, but honestly, his sincerity is so endearing you might just melt on the spot. And as you look at the knotted, chaotic masterpiece on your wrist, you realize you’ve never loved a bracelet more.

You were desperate. No, really—absolutely desperate. Lilia was busy with some mysterious “business,” and Silver had fallen asleep before you even got your full sentence out. That left…Sebek.

But you thought maybe, just maybe, you could get him to help you pick out a gift for Malleus if you praised Malleus enough to keep him distracted and maybe, hopefully, get him to leave you alone once you found something.

Sebek, however, wasn’t budging from your side.

“This is a sacred duty!” he announced, as you entered the gift shop. “For you to bring a gift worthy of Lord Malleus’s greatness, I shall assist! Do not think of slacking in this matter!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you muttered under your breath. Oh, this was going to be a long day.

You wander through the aisles and spot a black dragon statuette. You figure, hey, it’s got that draconic charm Malleus likes, and it’s nice enough without screaming “I tried way too hard.”

“What about this?” you suggest.

Sebek’s nose wrinkles like you just offered him expired milk. “This common tchotchke? Lord Malleus deserves something that reflects the grandiosity of his soul! This is but a disgrace!”

“...Okay,” you mumble, quickly putting the dragon back. “Noted. Next one.”

You take a deep breath, determined not to give up. You find a beautiful leather-bound book, the kind with fancy gold embossing that practically screams “I have depth and culture.” Perfect for Malleus, right?

Sebek looks at it, raises an eyebrow, and says with all the judgment he can muster, “A book? This is not some back-alley rummage sale! Lord Malleus is no mere scholar—he is a being of power and mystery. A mere book is not worthy!”

You’re starting to get a headache. “Sebek, this isn’t a sacred quest. It’s just a gift.”

Sebek crosses his arms. “Then act like it!”

You’re mentally calculating how long it would take to just make a break for it when you spot a crystal snow globe on a nearby shelf. It’s got a tiny castle inside with delicate little frosted details and swirling glitter. Pretty cute, honestly.

“What about this one?” You hold it up, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

Sebek stares at the snow globe, visibly appalled. “A snow globe? Are you trying to insinuate that Lord Malleus is some… carnival trinket vendor? This is an insult!”

You try to control your breathing. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Finally, you turn to him with a smile that’s about five seconds from breaking. “Sebek, it has been a pleasure. But I think I’ll, uh… figure it out myself from here.”

You barely hear him as he starts to object because you’re already halfway out the door.

Back at Ramshackle, an idea hits you. If you can’t find a gift, you can make one. After scouring the dorm for supplies, you somehow put together a makeshift snow globe with a tiny gargoyle inside, swirling in blue and silver glitter. It’s definitely handmade, but you’re sure Malleus will appreciate it.

Later that evening, you meet Malleus outside, heart pounding a bit as you hold out the homemade snow globe. “I… made this for you,” you say, offering it up.

Malleus takes it, eyes wide with wonder as he examines it, turning it in his hands to watch the glitter float around the little gargoyle. “Did you… make this yourself?”

“Yeah,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. “Figured you’d like it. And hey, it’s one of a kind, so… now you have something no one else does.”

Malleus’s expression softens, his smile growing into something that practically melts your heart. “Are you… courting me?” he asks, his tone almost mischievous.

You snort. “I am, actually. Thought I’d ask you out…again. Officially.”

Malleus’s eyes light up, and he pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you as if you’re the rarest treasure. “Then I graciously accept,” he says, his voice warm with laughter.

Sebek’s probably going to be horrified, but that’s a problem for future you. Right now, Malleus is looking at you with an expression that says you’re all he’s ever wanted, and that’s more than enough.

Malleus Draconia storming into the infirmary was a sight to behold. The door nearly flew off its hinges as he strode in, casting a long shadow over the entire room. Rain poured against the windows like someone had flipped on a faucet, lightning crackling ominously outside as he zeroed in on you with eyes that could’ve cut glass.

“Child of Man,” he intoned, voice a few shades too deep and dark. “I heard you were hurt.”

You, sitting up on the infirmary bed, waved a hand quickly. “Malleus, I’m fine! I’m totally fine! Ace actually took most of the fall for me.”

At that, Malleus’s intense gaze shifted to Ace, who was lying in the bed next to you, bruised, bandaged, and looking a bit like a disaster but still somehow smug. His grin only widened as Malleus took him in, and for once, Ace didn’t seem to have any wisecracks. Not yet, at least.

“Really, I’m okay, Malleus,” you reassured him again, reaching out to gently tug on his sleeve, trying to bring him back to reality. “It was just… a minor accident.”

Malleus let out a breath, his shoulders finally relaxing, and the rain outside softened to a drizzle. But when he saw Ace's injuries, a faint gleam of green magic sparked in his eyes. With a murmured spell, Malleus extended a hand over Ace, and a warm green light enveloped him, healing the bruises and cuts in seconds.

Ace blinked, absolutely dumbfounded as he patted himself down, looking at his newly healed skin. “Woah, hold on. Did… did I just get fae-healed?” He threw a proud glance at Deuce, who looked equally impressed.

“Guess saving someone as important as the prefect has its perks, huh?” Ace grinned, milking the moment for all it was worth.

Deuce elbowed him, eyes wide. “Dude, you got a fae to use magic on you! That’s like… that’s gotta be worth something!”

Malleus, however, seemed completely unaware of their astonishment. He turned back to you, his expression softening. “I’m relieved to see you unharmed, but perhaps we should consider… measures to avoid this in the future.”

You tilted your head, a bit wary of his tone. “Measures?”

“Yes.” Malleus nodded, serious as ever. “I will procure a shield for you. Perhaps one enchanted with protective charms, powerful enough to withstand nearly any impact.” His hand closed over yours, his gaze softening but his words completely, utterly sincere. “I’d rather not see you in danger again.”

At this, you couldn’t hold back a snicker. “A… shield? Malleus, that’s sweet, but I think a little protective magic might be overkill.”

“Absolutely not,” Malleus replied, as if you’d suggested something truly absurd. “Or perhaps I should assign a member of my guard to you. It would be a temporary arrangement, of course.”

Ace, never one to let an opportunity slip by, piped up. “Oooh, how about Sebek? He’d follow them around like a watchdog. ‘Human, beware of the tripping hazard!’ ‘Human', allow me to carry your books to avoid any injury!’”

You laughed so hard at the impression that you nearly slid off the bed. Deuce tried his best to look like he was keeping it together, but the way his shoulders shook betrayed him.

Malleus, apparently unfazed by your amusement, looked back at you with a raised eyebrow. “You mock my concerns, yet I believe this is a practical solution.”

“Oh, I know you do,” you said, wiping your eyes. “But, trust me. I’ll be okay without a magical shield or a Sebek bodyguard. Especially since, well…” You softened, leaning into his chest and giving his back a comforting pat. “You’re here to keep me safe, aren’t you?”

The room went still as Malleus’s expression softened even further, his entire face lighting up at your words. The last of the rain disappeared, leaving only a golden sunset spilling light through the windows.

Meanwhile, Ace watched the two of you with a half-joking pout. “Damn. Imagine being favored by a fae prince and dropping that kind of romantic line. If only Malleus was this concerned with my safety.”

Deuce crossed his arms, pretending to ponder. “You think we could get fae security if we also hung out with the prefect all the time?”

Grim, who’d been lounging on your bed, rolled his eyes. “Listen, you two can argue all you want, but I’m the one who gets the most danger-protection, and don’t you forget it!”

Ignoring the three, you glanced back at Malleus. “Seriously, I don’t need any magic armor, Malleus. As long as you’re around, I’ll be okay.”

For a moment, Malleus just looked at you, a rare and breathtaking smile spreading across his face. Slowly, he raised your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss there, the gentleness of the gesture stealing your breath.

“I shall remain, then,” he murmured, his voice as warm as the sunset. “Though my offer still stands should you ever change your mind.”

You grinned, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “Noted, Your Highness. I’ll let you know.”

With a parting wink and one last hand squeeze, Malleus let you settle back, his gaze lingering on you with an affectionate warmth that softened all the edges of his normally intense demeanor. If you’d known he’d go this far over one little mishap, maybe you’d have considered more dangerous hobbies just to see that side of him.

The rain was no ordinary downpour, that much was certain. It came in waves, sweeping across the campus like a brewing tempest, soaking students to the bone if they dared step outside. But as the day dragged on and the storm grew more intense, you were pretty sure you knew who was behind it.

You’d tried calling Malleus several times—three missed calls, four, five… and each time, the rain seemed to pour harder. You knew this wasn't just a storm; it was his storm, and whatever caused it had to be serious. When Malleus finally didn’t answer his phone on the sixth call, you felt your worry rise and dialed Lilia instead.

“Ah, you’ve noticed?” Lilia’s voice came through, light but with a hint of concern. “Malleus isn’t usually this… temperamental. Why don’t you come by Diasomnia? I think you might be able to reach him better than anyone right now.”

As the rain continued pounding outside, Lilia whisked you to the dark halls of Diasomnia, both of you making your way to Malleus’s dorm room. You raised your hand and knocked, waiting. Nothing. You glanced at Lilia, who gave you an encouraging nod. You turned the handle slowly, easing the door open.

Inside, Malleus was seated by his window, staring out at the rain-soaked world like some tragic hero in a romance novel. His usually strong and dignified presence seemed... deflated. His shoulders were hunched, and his entire form looked as if it was weighed down by an unseen burden.

"Malleus?" you said gently.

He turned, his eyes widening just slightly at the sight of you. But then his gaze dropped, and he returned to staring out at the rain. “Why did you come?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re clearly upset,” you replied, crossing the room to stand by his side.

He stayed quiet for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts. “I overheard some students talking… about us,” he said slowly, bitterness edging his words. “They said our relationship is… impossible. That it won’t last because we’re too different. That you’d never want to live somewhere like Briar Valley… and that—” His voice broke slightly, and he hesitated. “That no human in their right mind would choose a life there with me.”

His words felt like a dagger, and you could see the depth of his hurt in the way he clenched his hands. The thought of him hearing such hurtful things from people who didn't even know him, didn’t know you, sparked something protective in you. You sat down beside him, reaching out to place your hand over his.

“Malleus, those people don’t know anything,” you said softly but firmly. “They only see what they want to see. But they don’t see you.”

“But… they aren’t wrong, are they?” His voice was so low it almost broke your heart. “Briar Valley is… a kingdom of fae, ancient and isolated. And I… I am not like you. I am seen as a figure of fear by many.”

“Stop it.” You squeezed his hand, forcing him to look at you. “Malleus, you’re not ‘gloomy’ or ‘scary.’ You’re thoughtful and kind. And as for Briar Valley…” You took a deep breath, your eyes shining. “I’d follow you to a volcano if you asked me to, Malleus. And Briar Valley sounds lovely in comparison.”

He blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. “You… mean that?”

“Of course I do.” You felt a smile tugging at your lips, leaning closer to him. “Malleus, I’m… I’m in love with you. I don’t care about where we are, as long as we’re together. Besides, I’d visit my friends; it’s not like I’d be vanishing off the face of the earth.”

He stared at you, wide-eyed, as if you’d just declared the moon was his for the taking. “You… love me?” His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief and hope warring in his gaze.

You squeezed his hand tighter. “Yes, you big dramatic dragon, I do. I love you exactly as you are.” Then, unable to resist, you smiled and added, “You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. And, if I’m being honest, I think you make a perfect Prince Charming.”

At that, he let out a surprised chuckle, one that you felt all the way to your heart. The rain began to lighten outside, but Malleus wasn’t finished yet. “But… would you truly want to come with me to Briar Valley after graduation?” he asked, searching your face, as if afraid the answer might change.

Your lips curved into a teasing smile. “Is that a proposal, Malleus?”

He blinked, looking at you with such intense sincerity that it made you catch your breath. “Perhaps it is… if that is what you desire.”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Malleus, let’s take this one step at a time. It’s a little too early for marriage, but yes… I’ll come with you. No hesitation.”

Relief washed over his face, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he let out a long, contented sigh. Then, before you knew it, he was cupping your face gently, pulling you close, and pressing his lips softly against yours, his touch filled with both relief and quiet joy. You melted into the kiss, feeling the world around you fall away.

When you finally pulled back, you stayed wrapped up in each other, Malleus resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice as soft as the rain beginning to stop outside.

And then, as if by magic, the sun began to peek through the clouds. You glanced out the window and gasped—a beautiful rainbow stretched across the sky, its colors bright and vivid against the softening gray.

Outside in the hallway, Lilia noticed the sudden sunlight flooding through the windows. He smirked, crossing his arms as he gazed out at the sky. “Well now,” he murmured to himself with a knowing smile. “It seems the storm has finally passed.”

Briar Valley's winding paths had become second nature to you. From the thorn-laden trees to the misty moors, it was all oddly comforting now, a world you’d somehow made your own despite the constant whispers of “That magicless human will last a month, tops.”

Yet here you were, strolling with Silver and Grim by your side, perfectly at ease as the Fae here had learned to both respect you and—surprisingly enough—grow fond of you. Perhaps it was your persistence, or maybe the sight of how Malleus practically glowed around you had softened their opinion. Regardless, Silver’s calm, quiet presence made the walk feel almost peaceful.

Silver’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Would you take a detour with me for a moment?”

“Uh… sure.” You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t ignore the curiosity blooming inside.

Grim, still trotting alongside you, glanced up with a huff. “If it’s not back to the palace for a feast, count me out. I’m starving!”

He took you off the main path, weaving through a side route cloaked in the kinds of flowers that only seemed to bloom under the moonlight, until you reached the garden.

You noticed the unmistakable glimmer of fae lights strung up along the branches, casting an enchanting glow. Beneath them was a breathtaking arrangement: intricate flowers, delicate linens, and candles flickering gently as if they held their own breath, waiting.

“Silver… what’s this?” you turned to him, only to find he’d vanished, leaving you alone. Grim, however, was very much there, sitting and squinting at the setup as if trying to make sense of it.

“You think he’d at least stick around to explain,” Grim muttered, tail twitching.

Your heart raced, realizing exactly what this setup meant before even seeing him.

And then, as if stepping straight out of a fairytale, Malleus appeared. His dark attire blended almost seamlessly into the night, but his eyes were alive with a glint that made him stand out against everything else. You swallowed, feeling your pulse thud as he lowered himself onto one knee, reaching out to you with a small velvet box in hand.

“Will you—”

You were already nodding so vigorously that he chuckled, his deep voice warm and delighted as he tried to finish. “I have barely started, my love.”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m listening,” you said, though your feet were already itching to close the distance.

“Will you marry me?” His voice was low, intimate, every word wrapping around you as if sealing the two of you together. You swore the whole garden held its breath as the weight of his question sank in.

“Yes!” You practically launched yourself into his arms, the momentum nearly sending him off balance. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pressed a kiss to his lips, almost dizzy with excitement. He held you firmly, and you could feel his smile against your mouth as he returned the kiss, slow and heartfelt.

When you finally pulled back, catching your breath, you heard the sound of clapping—raucous, joyous applause. Looking over, you spotted Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and Grim, all watching with varying degrees of excitement. Lilia wore a proud, delighted grin, and even Silver looked softer than usual.

Sebek, meanwhile, was visibly struggling to hold back tears, sniffing and blinking rapidly. “My prince… has found his beloved…”

Lilia cackled, nudging him with a wicked grin. “Oh, Sebek! Who would’ve thought you’d be the emotional one? How poetic!”

“I am not emotional!” Sebek said, wiping his eyes. “I’m simply… moved by the occasion!”

Silver shook his head, though his smile remained gentle as he murmured, “Welcome to the family.”

And then there was Grim, who was glaring daggers at anyone who dared glance in his direction. “Pfft… it’s… it’s not like I care, or anything. Dust got in my eyes, that’s all,” he grumbled, pawing at his face, though his sniffling was obvious.

“Oh, Grim,” you laughed, reaching over to scratch behind his ears. He let out a small, begrudging purr, though he immediately caught himself and huffed, turning his back on you all with an indignant “Hmph.”

Malleus turned to them, unable to hide his own joy as he held you close. “Thank you, all of you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. Your eyes twinkle with mischief as you add, “I suppose you three can’t get rid of me now.”

Malleus chuckles, and Lilia grinned, placing a hand on his chest as he gave you a dramatic bow. “We wouldn’t dream of it. I mean, you’re the only one who’s managed to survive here, make Malleus happy, and deal with Sebek. That alone earns you a medal.”

Sebek opened his mouth, clearly ready to defend himself, but Silver beat him to it with a subtle nudge. “Come on, Sebek. You know it’s true.”

“Fine, but—” Sebek cut himself off with a sigh, his expression softening once more. “I am happy for you, truly.”

You beamed, touched by the sincerity in his voice. You knew Sebek’s respect wasn’t easy to earn, but it made the moment even more meaningful.

Lilia clapped his hands together, eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, the Briar Valley will be singing tales of this day for centuries. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Lilia,” Malleus said, a warning in his tone. “Please don’t exaggerate.”

“Oh, I don’t need to exaggerate,” Lilia said with a gleeful grin, his eyes alight with a hundred mischievous ideas. “You’ve done that for me by being your overly poetic self. ‘The magicless one who tamed the dragon prince’ will practically write itself.”

“Perhaps we could skip the ‘taming’ part,” you muttered, blushing at Lilia’s teasing. But you caught Malleus’s gaze, and the depth of emotion there silenced everything else.

He pulled you close, his forehead resting gently against yours. “We can let them say whatever they wish,” he murmured, his voice for your ears alone. “So long as you’re by my side.”

“Always,” you whispered back, and as his arms held you close, you glanced over to see the others clapping and cheering—and yes, even Grim was sitting proudly beside Silver, nodding as if this had all been his doing.

The future had never looked brighter.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia x you #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #malleus

245 notes · View notes

blitzsicedcoffee · 1 day ago

Text

Moxxie probably thinks he has the weirdest life.

Imagine you get caught robbing a bank during a heist and get thrown in hell jail just to meet some knucklehead who starts talking about his daughter and needing to relieve the babysitter

Then you bust out, and are prepared to go your separate ways but then he invites you back to his apartment (unless you have anywhere else to be) which you are afraid to go home so you follow him.

He lets you stay over for a while and over that time, you realize that he's a for hire assassin. A common imp job in hell, apparently. And you can possibly assist. You start an assassin duo.

You continue living with him and he pays you and finally you can afford your own apartment. You buy it in Greed but OOP, you saw the most beautiful assassin imp in greed and you NEED to meet her. So you let her take the hit. And tell your boss about her.

He brings her onto the team and you can't find words. She's so beautiful. And badass. And just amazing. Anyway.

Then within the year with your boss and admittedly he's your friend now's help, you ask her out. Within the year you're married. Kicking ass and taking names together.

Your boss then move you all to the pride ring and a new office. Very official. You feel more...real now. More professional in your career. More than you ever have.

Sure your boss can be annoying, infuriating, frustrating, and make you impatient. But he's also supportive, silly, and admittedly makes you blush sometimes. He is dashingly handsome and sexually crude after all. But you'd NEVER tell him so.

Most importantly, he took a chance on you. And that's weird because you thought that no one believed in you, until him.

#helluva boss #blitzø #helluva boss blitzo #blitz #moxxie #helluva boss moxxie #moxxie helluva boss #helluva moxxie

193 notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 2 days ago

Note

Hey I'm not sure if this is one of yours so feel free to ignore if it's not but justin case, I'd love to see the fallout of honeypot dick and danny after dick reveals that he was just using danny to gather evidence.

Tim remembers the day Danny Crowne came into his life. It was on one of his parents' rare trips home. They were always busy, but they loved him as much as possible. When they allowed themselves to remember about him.

He thinks he was four or five the first time someone uttered the phrase "out of sight, out of mind" around him. Tim believes it had been a nanny, one of the last ones before his parents deemed him old enough to handle things independently.

It took him some time to understand the phrase—he had to piece it together based on phrases in books since search engines online were not the best then—but when he did, Tim thought nothing fit Drake's parenting style more than that.

His dad and mom loved him, but they would get caught up in their work with every new discovery or issue at the company, and their son would fall into the afterthought category. They didn't mean to, and Tim had witnessed his father and mother's guilt when they could resurface long enough to remember that they had a son waiting for them back home.

Even inside the Manor, the Drakes were so used to being in their own rooms, with the doors sealed shut. Rarely would they all sit down and chat, believing if they existed in the same building, that was bonding.

Tim hadn't realized until Danny that he and his parents shared more of a roommate relationship than a family one.

He had tried to understand them when he was younger, as Tim definitely had the same issue. He knew what it was like to enjoy something so much that it took over every aspect of his life. He got so lost in whatever new hobby or interest he had that he forgot to accept the international calls his parents set up.

It crushed him to see the new voicemail blinking on his answering machine, but it's not like he could undo forgetting to sit near the phone since he was busy staring at bugs in the yard. (Tim was really into bugs at one point)

Tim doesn't realize how lonely he is until Danny Crowne randomly appears as the new sole hire for the crumbling Crowne company. A few years after Bruce Wayne took in Richard Grayson, he was taken in from the streets for his advanced mind after Mr. Crowne had stumbled upon him at a school fair or something.

People scoffed at Crowne's pathetic attempt to butter up to Bruce Wayne, especially since only a week after Danny was announced, his father bullied his way into a party invitation for Dick Grayson's birthday event.

He remembered it was supposed to be a birthday party, but the adults treated it like a birthday gala instead. They separated the children into another room full of games and music while they wined and dined in the main hall. It was a big event since Bruce Wayne only hosted three significant events of the season at the time, despite his party animal persona.

To get into a party hosted by Wayne was like getting the golden ticket to Wonka's factory. This also meant that if you were invited, you had to attend as it would ruin your chances of networking and it would also plump your reputation.

Tim's parents knew this very well as they had returned just to go to the event in honor of Dick Grayson, the boy who went from rags to riches. People whispered that he was shaping up to be Bruce's heir, as Bruce had taken him in when he was nine and no wife or other children to speak of.

Dick Grayson, at fourteen, was the gateway to Wayne's wealth and connections. Every teenage girl was told to make him fall in love with him and every boy to befriend him. Tim was no different.

His parents spoke non-stop about Tim needing to endear himself to Dick Grayson, but how could tiny little eight-year-old Tim do so? That was Robin!

He couldn't look at the older boy without becoming flustered, not that his folks knew about Robin.

His parents were in a foul mood because one of their digs was post-pond due to permit issues, and they were forced to attend the gala. They had been so upset that they had not noticed Tim was still strapped in the backseat when they handed the keys to the valet to park the car.

Thankfully, the employee quickly noticed the sleeping child and woke him for the party as he was parking. Tim had been insanely obsessed with NASA back then and had anciently stayed up all night reading about the space program- he hadn't even realized the time until he saw the sunrise behind his curtains.

The valet had walked him to the front door, worried about Tim being separated from his parents, but the young boy had convinced him to let him go to the children's room alone. He was very independent and could handle finding the party for his age group well enough alone.

He just wasn't expecting to take the wrong turn and end up in the main hallway, where the adults were performing their gala. It was slightly intimidating, as Tim had never been in the adult room.

All the elites like to separate the children right at the entrance of their parties- out of sight, out of mind- and he felt so tiny standing in the doorway of the gala.

He had been eight, wearing one of his best suits while clutching a NASA key chain for courage and trying to find his way around the fancy gowns and expensive shoes. That's how Danny had seen him.

The other boy had zeroed in on his keychain, gliding gracefully across the room to Tim's position that belied his roots. It was the first thing Tim noticed about Danny Crowne.

Everything he did was regal.

Despite being the youngest person in the gala attendees' room, he seemed far more respected, like a prince among his subjects. He was also beautiful, with features of nobility that many elites would kill for.

Tim remembered gaping up at him as the gorgeous teenager grinned. "You like space too?"

That was the first time someone older than him had asked about his interests, pulled him to the side, and let Tim ramble on about all the information that cluttered his head. Danny knew more about NASA and space than Tim had been able to find on his own.

The older boy eventually led him back to the children's room and vanished for the rest of the night. Tim's parents told him the following morning that Danny was found taking apart Bruce Wayne's home security, wanting to see the world's most advanced technology up close.

They laughed, dismissing the child, and Tim sat silently as his parents mocked the poor street urchin who thought he could understand what he was ripping apart.

People thought him odd because Danny had started doing that at every event. He was always in a corner, staring intently at some random machinery with a slight craze look in his eye.

His looks, mannerisms, and terminology were at odds with his upbringing, though, as they went against everything people said about him. Tim was enthralled by Danny Crowne's mystery, even when the rest of the elites dismissed him—until Danny started making decisions at his adoptive parents' company.

It made sense why the Crownes had adopted him. Danny's mind, talent, and looks were far beyond average. In only a year, his decision-making took the failing company out of the red, and with him spearheading the research and development department, the company broke ground in the technological world like a raging hurricane.

In one year, he regains all the wealth and honor of the crumbling Corwne family name. He was the ideal heir.

Everyone who used to mock him was now scrambling to befriend the rising star, but Danny Crowne kept to himself. He had gotten what he wanted from the various events he attended and was now focused on making his company powerful.

Of course, his adoptive father was still in charge, but everyone knew that Danny had really turned the company around.

His parents were among those who wanted Danny's influence, but they had no way of appealing to him. That is, until Danny's limo passed Tim, who was walking down the street late at night with his expensive camera, and the prodigy had the driver pull over.

Danny had been horrified to find out the little boy who loved NASA just as much as he was left unattended. His parents had scrambled to make up a story about their old nanny having a heart attack, and the company she came from did not send a replacement.

They were unaware that Tim had been left alone, or so they claimed. Tim thought Danny didn't buy it in the least, but the teenager had been happy to babysit him anyway.

Tim figured Danny would be like every other babysitter: He would show him attention for a few hours and then eventually ignore him. Tim just had to wait for him out.

Danny didn't even have his adoptive parents' attention, either. They lived in a different penthouse and called him once a week. Their conversations were stiff, like neither party knew how to converse with each other. If Tim didn't know any better, they didn't even remember they had adopted Danny.

Half the time, Mr. and Mrs. Crowne seemed unaware of their decision-making. Tim wondered if they were taking some substance because no one rapidly went from displeased to agreeable.

The odd thing about Danny, though, was how much he cared about the silliest things. Only a month after Danny became his babysitter, Tim's English class had a mandatory poem-reading event, during which each student wrote a dumb poem about education.

The parents and guardians were all invited to some cookies and refreshments afterward. Tim thought it was stupid for the assignment because it was in the middle of the day. If guests wanted to make it, they would need to ask their bosses for time off from one to three p.m., which smacks of the workday.

He figured he wouldn't be the only kid without someone there because of this, which made him feel a little better about not mentioning it to his parents. They weren't even in the country.

Tim was one of the first kids to read his poems because the class went by alphabetical order of last name; he was supposed to go third. He was sitting on stage in boredom when he heard the bang of the gymnasium doors swinging open.

Danny was standing in his Gotham Academy uniform, huffing and puffing. He locked eyes with the shocked eight-year-old Tim and gave him the warmest smile to every grace on his face. He quickly dodged one of the teachers, who must have realized Danny had walked out of his classes, scurrying to an open chair and waving at Tim the entire time.

Tim's poem was half-assed at best, as he wrote it ten minutes before the event, but Danny had still cheered like it was the second coming of Shakespeare.

After school, Danny took him for ice cream and chatted about how proud he was of him as if he had not received detention for skipping class to go to Tim's little event.

Since then, Tim's goal has been to protect his regal but gentle-hearted big brother. He's always been insanely intelligent for his age, and now that intelligence had a target, something guiding it rather than his mind wandering to whatever new thought appeared.

In his quest to protect Danny, Tim figures out Batman and Robin's identities and finds the location of the Court of Owls headquarters. He maps out the heavy hitters in Gotham's gangs, mafia, most of the Rouge's secret lairs, and their supplies.

Tim quickly discovers Danny's operation to relocate the poor and orphaned children into safer homes. What he was doing was well intended, but there were many risks to trusting the men and women taking child protective laws into their own hands.

All these threats were too big for Tim to handle alone—what if the Talons were told to take Danny out? What if the gangs and mafias thought they could threaten Danny? What if a rouge took him hostage?

Tim realized he needed a plan. He never told Danny any of what he knew. Not the Bats, not the court of owls, not the rouges, and not the tiny group of meta children that Danny had unknowingly saved from the streets and trafficking.

Another thing Danny needed to learn about Tim was that he was really good at hacking into other people's bank accounts. Lex Luther, Oliver Green, Bruce Wayne, and Jack Drake woke one day to find someone had run off with millions.

Those funds were used to hire Tim's two instructors.

"I will not be kind," Lady Shiva told him at the ripe age of nine. She studied him like a bug trapped under glass, and Tim knew he was one to her.

"Neither will I." Henri Ducard sighed, taking a drag from his cigarette. "But I will make sure you are ready."

Tim's training was harsh, but it made him strong enough that the night the court sent their Talons, Tim could dispatch them and capture one to reverse engineer its creation. He reminded the Court that they may be elites, but they were nowhere near the level of gods.

Lady Shiva was so impressed by him that she introduced him to Deadshot, a man who had a soft spot for children after what had happened to his son. Between the two, his combat training made him a very threat, and Henri marveled at his mind.

"I don't think I ever encountered a mind so advanced since...one of my last students. You'll give him a run for his money, boy."

Tim appreciated his mentor's words about his skills but saw no reason to join their world. He didn't want to be the best fighter in the world, nor did he need money. All he wanted was to be Danny's sword and shield in their corner of the world.

He realized that he needed more hands and eyes to do so successfully. To this day, he does not know what Danny was working on—out of respect, he never investigated his brother past his child relocation program—but he knew that he would support him no matter what.

Danny saved Tim from the sea of darkness he was unaware he was drowning in. The least Tim could do was ensure that Danny's efforts came to fruition.

Turns out he wasn't the only one.

"What can I do to help Danny?" Max demands of Tim when the heir of the Drakes ten. On Max's face are bruises that have only now started to heal. He was taken in by the Parkers the night before after Danny had nearly broken down the door to his old home.

Max had been discovered to have meta powers, ones that let him turn invisible, and his birth parents decided they could beat it out of him. Tim read the file that Danny had stored away in his notebooks.

"Can you fight?" Tim asked, as his new foster parents had discovered the twelve-year-old and relocated him.

"No, but I can learn"

"So can we." A girl, fifteen years old, announced from the group of children that had come to see Danny Crowne in the flesh. Security stopped them before they could see him, but Tim was close enough to give them a hand.

Her name was Heather. She lost her whole family in a fire, where a burn scar edged itself on the lower half of her face and neck. Once, she was a beautiful girl, but the wounds ruined her- or so she was told by people who felt she was dangerous because of them. Too much like Two-Face, they said.

She had been thrown into juvie because there had been no space elsewhere in Gotham's fostering jurisdiction.

It was meant to be temporary. She had gone in at age ten and was now fifteen, only released through Danny Crowne's paid-off guards who had helped her sneak out through the laundry.

Tim studied her, the children grouping behind her, and figured that one didn't become a master without having some students to teach. They became the Ghosts in honor of Danny. Tim had noticed that Danny was really interested in the paranormal, just as much as he was about technological advances, and one of the kids designed their symbol.

A green ghost, flying around a white stylized D so that other Gothamn children would know they were not forgotten even when the Bats and the government turned their backs on them.

"Leader?" Max calls from his computer station. They are deep underground, having taken over the old Court of Owls lair. The day Tim was able to create a weapon that turns the talons back into dead corpses, they had rounded up all the rich court members and erased their memories.

Danny was unaware that Tim stole one of his inventions meant to help the human mind see where he was going between this world and the next thing, and he changed it into a mind wiper.

The Ghost remained neutral in most conflicts, only taking action when someone made a move against Danny, Crowe Corp., or the children of Gotham.

"What is it?"

"Danny wasn't taken." Max's voice is rough with grief. He gestures to the big screen that towers over the city, young adults and children of various ages. Realizing Max was to cast his screen, Tim inclines his head to grant approval.

The screen blinks open to show Officer Black beating Danny on his way to his cell. It looks to be a camera in the hall of the holding cells. Tim's hands curl into fists to see his brother being attacked like that. Someone bites out a swear aimed at Officer Black.

The camera fizzes momentarily before Officer Black flickers to walk away from an empty cell. There are three other unknown men with him, and they are pushing a trash bin. "Someone edited this."

"Yes. I just finished getting it back to its original image." Max types something on his computer, and the video starts over. This time before their eyes, with the image nearly as clear, showcases Danny getting a heavy hit to his head, slamming against the wall with a tump.

He slides to the floor as Black turns away and does not move until a glowing figure rises from where Danny's body is lying. The figure looks alarmingly like Danny but has white hair and green eyes.

It stares down at its hands before it looks at Danny's body in confusion. It rises off the ground, leaving Danny crumbled on the ground of the cell and fades from view.

Officer Black finally looks back, having missed the whole thing before, kneeling and checking Danny's pulse. He doesn't need the officer to shake his head or attempt CPR to know the truth.

Ice runs through his veins as Tim stumbles back into his chair. His choked voice echoes through the room like a bomb setting off.

"Danny's dead."

#dcxdpdabbles #mun speaks #the adoptive son #Part 8 #Tim's POV #Did anyone noticed Tim's moves in other parts?#The Ghosts #What if Tim Drake was not Choatic evil or Choatic good but Choatic neutral?#The Ghosts are the Justice League Dark version of Robins #What has happened to Danny?

330 notes · View notes

hello-sweetheart · 3 days ago

Text

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love part 4

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and presses the heels of his palm into his eyes.

Im such a piece of shit. God, how could I just do that.

He’s pissed at Steve for not saying something sooner, for waiting until Eddie had something good in his grasp. But he’s angry with himself too.

How stupid is he, really? Did he really not notice until it all came face to face?

He has Adiel’s number memorized, but he knows which of Steve’s beauty marks form constellations.

Mostly, hes confused. His feelings are a jumbled mess and he’s never been good at sorting them out. Naturally, he turns to music. Dio has serenaded him these past few days. Wayne has steered clear of his shit show.

How do you feel right now?

What do you see?

Where would you be right now?

Hey angel what about me?

Jesus fucking fuck. He attempts to run his hand through his hair only it doesn’t get too far, rings snagged in his tangled hair. He can feel the oil built up on the strands and knows it’s time to get his ass out of bed. He doesn’t.

“Angel, Angel, angel. You were my angel. Just not anymore.” He mutters to himself long after the track has finished and another song plays. He’s learning to let go still, even after he’s ended it.

You know what really makes him feel like a dickhead? That Adiel got hurt because of him. He didn’t deserve to get caught in Eddie’s bullshit.

Guilt eats him alive.

His conscious hurts and his heart trembles, tumbled in his chest, but he doesn’t feel the heartbreak the way he should. That world-on-fire and breath burning feeling. He can’t find it.

Like a masochist he wants for it, desires it, deserves it like sinner.

Those last few weeks were enough for his feelings to settle, for his heart to make a decision with or without his input. He tried—god fuck I tried—to feel that skipped-beat flutter when Adiel smiled his way. Could almost convince himself he could. That Adiel’s interlocked hand in his still felt an extension of himself instead of something foreign.

It used to feel like I belonged at his side. Why did it have to stop?

He’s wronged a friend who trusted him to keep his heart safe. A friend who had already been through so much. And Eddie added to that lifetime of hurt because he couldn’t figure it out himself.

Because he was too stupid to see and too stupid to know.

He thinks of Steve’s lips, like he has now for days. Weeks. His heart twists, rung out. That skipped-beat flutter that betrays him.

Fuck. Fuck, man.

He has to stop yanking at his hair like he can train himself out of feeling it.

Do your demons, do they ever let you go?

When you've tried, do they hide, deep inside

Is it someone that you know?

You're just a picture, you're an image caught in time

We're a lie, you and I.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he tells no one because he needs to say it until he can forgive himself a little. Until he can make himself believe that Adiel will forgive him, in time.

“I’m so sorry,” this time says it to himself, covers his face with his hands and finally cries.

Against his fucking will he cries, can’t hold onto it anymore. Ugly retching sobs that can only come from mourning an almost.

Finally, after days of like solitude, Wayne creeps in un-intrusive as a shadow. His hand on his shoulder may be the only thing that keeps Eddie from disappearing.

“I could’ve loved him, Wayne. I could’ve—I did. I think I fucking loved him and I didn’t know until—until I didn’t anymore. And then—and then I just couldn’t again.”

I wish he got to know that. That even for a short time, I had loved him.

Wayne, ever a man of few words, sits with him and lets him have his silence.

———

It’s a little over a month after that that Steve pays him a visit.

He’s smart enough to show up when Wayne isn’t home, looking sheepish as he shuffles on his front step. At least he has the gall to look him in the eyes.

All this is because of you, he thinks. His dark under eyes, his pallid skin. The rage in his blood. The almost that he had.

“Why are you here?” He looks taken aback, almost shrinks in on himself.

“I… the boys said that you, well.” Steve rubs the back of his neck, his hair longer than when Eddie last saw it. It slips through Steve’s fingers. “You never came by again and I wanted to see you. To talk? Can we talk? Can’t… can’t I come in?”

Having Steve in his home, in his space, is dangerous.

Those eyes are deep, soften by tired shadows.

“No,” his swallow is audible and steels himself, “Why should I want you in my home, Steve?”

Steve stands there lips parted and hands clenches at the bottom of his sweatshirt, eyes shined over. Eddie takes the chance to step forward. Everything inside him is too much.

“Don’t you understand what you did? I was happy. And you, fuck, you ruined it! Steve! You!” He out of the door way now and Steve steps back, back, back.

Steve’s face is red in shame. Eddie’s in anger. His pointed finger jabbed at his chest, accusing.

“You couldn’t just let me be happy? Why? Why did you kiss me, Steve? Why then? Was it because you couldn’t stand that I finally had someone? Say something!”

Steves eyes overflow, “Yes! I could stand it because I love you, asshole! I thought, I don’t know—I thought you loved me, too. Okay? Me. We both felt it—tell me you felt it too, Eddie? It wasn’t just me, right?

“You were everywhere and everything. You’d smile at me and it was the sun. So close, always right there and it was like we were—we were teetering on the edge of something amazing. And I was so happy, Eddie. So happy that day ‘cuz I thought, it was just us, right? Me and you. Just us. Together.

“But then you saw him and your weren’t even listening to me. You didn’t hear a word I said, did you? You only had eyes for him. You left me there and I didn’t know what to do with myself ‘cuz suddenly all you’d talk about was him. Every day and every minute we were together. After thinking, after thinking you loved me too.

That I had you.

So yes! Okay? I kissed you because I was selfish and I needed to know. I needed to know if any of it was real. If there really was nothing there.”

Steve’s breathing hard by the end of, words a wavering wet string of rawn vulnerable pulled out of his chest. He’s looking at the floor, hair covering his eyes, and shoulders trembling as he hiccups.

Then, everything feels still. Calm inside. For the first time in ages, Eddie feels like he can take a deep breath and not fall apart. He closes his eyes for a second and just breathes. The fight escapes him with the last breath.

“You ruined me, Steve. You ruined me in a way that even I didn’t understand. I didn’t know, not until that night, about how you felt. And I’m sorry if it was my fault, if I did and said things to make you feel that way, okay? But I didn’t… I didn’t feel that way about you. Not then. Not when you kissed me.”

“And now? Eddie? Do you… could you feel that way for me, now?”

“If it weren’t for you,” he begins, “Adiel and I… we could’ve had something great. But then you—and I— I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I wondered so much on why you kissed me that night, replaying every moment together, to see what you saw. And ended up feeling… feeling what you felt.”

He takes the chance to move forward the last bit of space to reach to him, have him look him in the eyes. Both of them mirror images of despair.

“You ruined me, Stevie. Everything was different. It wasn’t perfect anymore, I couldn’t make it perfect again. And I couldn’t be who I had been with Adiel knowing that I couldn’t find in me what we had before. That maybe, this has the chance of being something amazing, too.

I stopped seeing you everyday, so I saw you in everything. I stopped speaking to you, and you became the voice inside my head. It was maddening.”

Eddie laughs and wipes away the tears from Steve’s eyes, they fall faster when he smiles a weak and small but real thing.

“Adiel and I, we fit together; we were good together. But despite that, I didn’t want him anymore. I didn’t know why, I think I still don’t, but… I don’t need to know. I just need feel it, Stevie. And I feel it. I want this. Me and you. You have throughly ruined me, for anybody else.”

This time the kiss is different. It’s shared elation, wet and salty on the tongue, and clumsy as they try to fit into each other. Disappear in one another.

“Are you still mad?”

Those brown eyes don’t resemble gems of green, but they’re filled with incredible warmth and Eddie sees home in them,

Sees a life with them,

It’s own kind of precious.

And he laughs.

“So much, Stevie. I’m mad and heartbroken and falling jn love and happy and so so sure of us. I think, I think I still need some time, I’m really fucked—no, no, shouldn’t cry anymore,” he says as Steve’s face scrunches and it’s so unbelievably cute if he wasn’t blaming himself for it all.

“I just want to make sure I do this right this time. And if I, if I invite you in… I won’t be able to.”

Steve rests his forehead against his, there is heat between them, “But I have you, right?”

“Yeah, took me a while to figure it out but… yeah. Yes. You have me, Steve. God, and I have you. And tomorrow, tomorrow you’re going to come over and pick me up at 6 in the evening so we can eat shitty pancakes at the diner.

And then we’ll figure this out together.”

Part 3 <💛 End, thank you for reading and for all the feedback!

#so yeah they got some shit to work through but they’re all in baby!#the number of times I started writing it in on pov and then delete it for another pov and then again #but Eddie hadn’t had a turn to speak his truth so I think this was the right choice #a lot of dialogue in this one with is my Achilles heel 💀#might be another part depending how yall feel #or a short one shot of adiel finding happiness so so many of you felt for him #steddie #bee speaks #steddie headcanon #steddie prompt #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie drabble #clumsy in love

203 notes · View notes

helioooss · 2 days ago

Text

fable

synopsis: minji and y/n are both from a conservative town - and end up falling for each other. days are spent sneaking around…longing for someplace they can be themselves.

w/c: 5k+

warning: homophobia, death, mostly internalised, swearing, drinking, kissing, having to hide who you really love sucks. just angst

a/n: okay, this is important. as per recent events, and the sole reason why i’m publishing this now: i will not be continuing this story as it just feels like a fever dream to write about women loving other women - specifically (and surprisingly) in a country like america, where this is set. as of right now, there will be no part two.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

rhodes was a quiet country town, one where the land stretched out wide and the houses were all spaced apart, each standing tall with big porches and rocking chairs that creaked with the passing winds.

folks around here lived simply; big families, old traditions, and everyone knowing each other’s business, even when you’d rather they didn’t. the only real landmarks were the towering silos, murphy’s diner and the stretch of farmland that seemed endless.

most of your afternoons were spent in your pa’s garage, under the hood of a truck or fixing up your old dirt bike. you had an affinity for engines, grease-streaked hands and the rhythm of mechanical work that required no words, just understanding. keeping to yourself mostly, you were content with the company of horses, the comfort of solitude and the occasional bonfire with your old man.

it was just him and you, after all.

then there was minji. she was as close to royalty as you’d get around here. your family lived in a modest house with a big porch that overlooked acres of field. across from you was her family estate — a sprawling place with manicured gardens, stables, and a wrap-around porch that seemed to stretch out as far as the eye could see. their cars were sleek and pristine (except for the old bastard her dad loved driving around), it was the kind of place people would point out as if it were a tourist attraction.

more than that, she had a charm that seemed to light up every room she walked into.

since you could remember, the two of you always walked to school together even though you didn’t really know her. it was a quiet, unspoken arrangement that had developed over the years, when parents told you to look out for each other.

conversations were rare; she was usually scrolling through her phone or listening to music through one earbud while you kept your gaze on the gravel road, hands in your pockets. you never questioned it and she never acknowledged it, but somehow, every morning, she’d be waiting at the end of her driveway and the two of you would fall into step.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the first time you really looked at minji was a fall morning in junior year and she was standing under the maple tree at the end of her driveway — her hair catching the early light, eyes focused on some distant point beyond the fields.

she looked so serene, so out of place in the rough simplicity of rhodes and you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was something special; someone you wanted to know, even if you never could.

but people like her weren’t meant for people like you — so you kept your head down and fell into step beside her as usual.

and you were okay with that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

until one day, she surprised you by initiating a conversation as you walked down the familiar road to school.

“you know, you’re kinda mysterious,” she said, her voice teasing but curious. “you don’t ever talk, even at school.”

you looked at her, caught off guard. “me? i think i’m just quiet.”

she laughed, a sound that made something in your chest tighten. “no, it’s more than that. you’re like…really the silent type.”

you shrugged, not really knowing what to say. words weren’t your strong suit; you were more at ease with tools and machines than with people.

however, there was something about her that made you want to try.

over the next few weeks, you found yourself talking to her more. she would start conversations; it was mostly small things — questions about school, comments about the weather, a shared laugh at the antics of the local town characters.

however, each word, each moment felt significant, like you were building something fragile and precious between you.

“so, what’s your favourite song right now?” she asked, a big grin plastered on her face as she kicked pebbles ahead of you.

you thought about your answer, humming. “my pa’s always singing bruce springteen, so probably one of his songs.”

she clapped in excitement, turning to you. “so does mine, which song?”

“y’know, i’m on fire — a classic,” you rubbed your nape, feeling small under her gaze. “but when we’re at murphy’s, he plays rocket man on the juke.”

“but what do you like? imagine we were at the diner right now, what would you sing?”

“well, right now, i’ve been humming to i remember everything; zach bryan.”

she nodded, satisfied. “good choice - i’ll listen to that tonight and think of you.”

and then one morning, you found her waiting by the fence at the end of her driveway, twirling a loose strand of hair around her finger as she stared out over the misty fields.

you greeted her with a nod, falling into step beside her. “you look bored.”

“i always am,” she heaved out a sigh. “there’s nothing to do ‘round here.”

for a while, you walked in silence, the gravel crunching under your boots as she hummed a new tune. it was quite obvious that there was a lot going on in her mind, so you let her be.

“do you ever get tired of rhodes?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

you glanced over at her, surprised. “what do you mean?”

she shrugged, looking down at the road as she walked. “it just feels like…i don’t know. like i’m supposed to be somewhere else. somewhere bigger.”

you considered her words, feeling the pull of her restless energy. “you mean the city?”

“maybe,” she murmured. “somewhere with more people, more things to do. sometimes i feel like i don’t fit here, you know?”

you nodded, though your own feelings were mixed. it was predictable yet comforting in its own way. yet you could understand her need for more, her desire to break free of the small-town expectations that kept people in their places. “what would you do?”

“law, music; anything to get out of here,” she said without hesitation, her eyes lighting up. “it’s silly.”

“it’s not silly,” you replied softly, surprised by the passion in her voice. “it’s brave.”

she laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in it. “i don’t feel very brave. i mean, look at me. all i do is cheer and go to parties and pretend i’m happy with all of this.”

you didn’t know what to say. she had always seemed so confident, so sure of her place in the world. seeing her like this, vulnerable and unsure, made you feel closer to her in a way you hadn’t expected.

“well,” you said finally, keeping your voice light, “if you ever want a ride out of this place, i’ll let you borrow one of my pa’s a hundred trucks someday.”

she glanced at you, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “you’d really let me borrow those precious trucks?”

“maybe,” you said, pretending to think it over. “as long as you promise the old boy not to crash it.”

she laughed, the sound filling the air around you, and for a moment, the tension melted away, replaced by something easy and warm.

yet deep down you knew, she was going to leave one day.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was a chilly afternoon at school and you were leaning against the wall outside your classroom just waiting for the bell to ring.

you’ve got your hands in your pockets, watching the last leaves fall from the trees outside. the day has been long, filled with the usual classes and quiet looks exchanged with minji as she passed you in the halls. she always offered a small, secret smile — a reminder of the connection the two of you were quietly building.

you were lost in your thoughts amongst the crowd when a shadow loomed over you.

taehyung, one of the football players, all swagger and confidence as he stands a little too close, sizing you up like you’re beneath him. you’d fixed his car a few times before; his dad’s an old friend of your uncle’s and he would stop by the garage a handful of times, always with that same arrogant smirk.

“hey y/n,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. “i need you to look at my car again. it’s making this weird noise, and i don’t have time to deal with it.”

you raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his tone. “when’s it making the noise?”

he shrugged, as if your question was pointless. “i don’t know. all the time, i guess. you’re the one who’s supposed to know about these things, right?”

prick.

you bit back a retort, reminding yourself that this is just how he talked. besides, fixing cars wasn’t just a job to you; it was something you enjoyed. “bring it by the garage after school. i’ll take a look.”

he didn’t say thank you, didn’t even acknowledge your offer to help. instead, he scoffed, looking at you like you were a servant he summoned. “good. i’ll swing by later. and don’t keep me waiting, alright? i got football early.”

before you could respond, another voice cut in. it was minji; and she didn’t look too impressed.

“excuse me,” she said, her tone icy and uncharacteristically sharp. she was standing just a few feet away, glaring at him with a look you’ve never seen on her before. “is that how you talk to people who are helping you?”

he turned to her, surprised, then chuckled, clearly amused. “oh hey, minji. didn’t see you there.”

“obviously,” she snapped, taking a step closer. “because if you had, you might have remembered that it’s rude to treat people like they owe you something.”

he seemed taken aback, clearly not used to being called out, especially not by someone like her. “what’s the big deal? it’s just y/n. she’s used to this kinda stuff.”

“just y/n?” she repeated, her voice growing colder. “y/n’s doing you a favour. the least you could do is show a little respect.”

you stood there, stunned, not used to seeing minji like this; fierce and protective. part of you wanted to pull her back, tell her it was all good, but the other part is quietly grateful for the way she was standing up for you.

he rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “whatever, minji. i don’t get why you’re so worked up over this.”

“because it’s common decency, taehyung,” she said firmly. “and maybe you should try it sometime.”

the tension hung heavy in the air, a standoff between the most powerful kids in town as a few students nearby glanced over, was a rare event to watch.

“fine,” he muttered, barely meeting your gaze. “thanks for, uh, looking at the car — i guess.”

it was a half-hearted apology, but you took it, nodding slightly. “no problem.”

with one last glare at her, taehyung stalked off, muttering under his breath. as soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to you, her expression softening, worry flickering in her eyes.

“sorry if i overstepped,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “it just…he shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

you sent her a small smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

she shrugged, but there was a softness to her gaze that made your heart skip a beat. “maybe not. but i wanted to. you’re too nice sometimes, you know?”

you laughed, glancing down, feeling a little shy under her stare. “guess i just don’t see the point in getting worked up over guys like him.”

“well, maybe you should,” she said, her tone teasing. “or you could just let me get worked up for you.”

“i’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the way her words made you feel.

for a moment, neither of you said anything, the silence stretching between you in a way that felt natural. then minji looked around, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“wanna skip the rest of the day?”

you raised an eyebrow. “skip school? miss ‘perfect attendance’ minji wants to cut class?”

she laughed, her smile wide and free. “just this once. come on, let’s go into into town.”

you hesitated, glancing back at the school, but the look in her eyes was too tempting to resist. with a grin, you nodded, gesturing towards the main door. “alright, then. let’s stop by murphy’s.”

skipping class wasn’t something either of you did often, but today felt different — a small rebellion that felt like it belonged to you and her alone.

the two of you walked in comfortable silence down main street, minji bumping her shoulder playfully against yours every so often. the breeze danced the leaves around, the occasional folks passing by and giving you questionable looks - you didn’t say much, but the unspoken ease said more than words could.

after a few blocks, you found yourselves standing outside murphy’s diner, the familiar chipping paint and neon sign buzzing quietly in the afternoon light.

you held open the door, nodding for her to go in first. “after you, punk.”

she laughed, shaking her head as she stepped inside. “i should be saying that to you, you’re the bad influence here.”

“i think it’s mutual at this point,” you replied with a grin, following her into the diner.

the place was nearly empty, save for a couple of regulars at the counter and murphy himself, looking half-asleep behind the cash register. he perked up slightly when he saw you both, adjusting his stained apron and giving you a nod of acknowledgment.

“hey kids,” murphy called out, not quite smiling but his eyes crinkling in what could pass as friendly. “what brings you in here on a school day?”

“just felt like a change of scenery,” minji answered, sliding into a booth by the window. she glanced at you, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “thought we’d come sample your famous pie.”

he snorted, crossing his arms. “famous, huh? that what they’re calling it now?”

“sure is,” you said, grinning as you took a seat across from her. “heard you’ve got some new ‘experimental’ flavours going on. i might be feeling brave today.”

“i’d rethink that if i were you, your pa’s guts couldn’t even handle it,” he replied, one eyebrow raised. “but i’ll get you both a slice of the apple. can’t go wrong with the classic.”

as he shuffled off to the kitchen, minji leaned across the table, resting her chin in her hands. “you come here a lot, huh?”

you nodded, looking around the diner with a sense of quiet fondness. “yeah. it’s kinda like…i don’t know. a second home, almost. it’s pa’s favourite place in the world — him and murph go way back.”

she smiled, her gaze softening. “i can see that. i used to come here with my mum when i was little. she’d always get me one of those gigantic milkshakes, and then i’d feel sick for hours afterward.”

“so nothing’s changed,” you teased, and she laughed, rolling her eyes.

“not true. now i can handle my milkshakes without the regret,” she looked around, taking in the retro red booths, the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner and the small posters lining the walls. “it’s got that old charm to it, you know? like it’s been here forever.”

“probably has,” you replied, glancing over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t listening in. “murphy’s just as much a part of this place as the food is.”

she laughed, shaking her head. “and his infamous temper. last time i was in here, i saw him argue with some poor guy over how much sugar he was putting in his coffee.”

“sounds about right,” you said, chuckling. “you know, i think he’s convinced he’s running some kind of fine dining establishment.”

“let him dream,” she replied with a grin. “it makes this place more interesting.”

murphy came back a moment later, setting down two plates in front of you, each with a thick slice of pie that steamed slightly, the golden crust flaking off at the edges.

“your pa know you cut classes now, y/n?” he sent you a funny look, one that made you gulp. “you in luck, i keep secrets to m’self these days.”

“thanks murph,” you smiled as minji tried to suppress her laughter.

he poured you each a cup of coffee without asking, grumbling under his breath about “kids these days” before disappearing back behind the counter.

she picked up her fork, cutting into the pie and taking a tentative bite. her eyes widened, and she made a small noise of approval. “okay, i’ll admit, this is actually pretty good.”

you took a bite as well, nodding in agreement. “he’s a little eccentric but the man knows how to make a pie.”

she glanced over at murphy, who was pretending not to watch you both from the corner of his eye. “maybe we should give him some credit.”

“don’t let him hear you say that,” you warned, keeping your voice low. “next thing you know, he’ll be charging ‘gourmet’ prices.”

she laughed, covering her mouth, and for a moment, everything felt easy and light, like the two of you were just regular kids, free from the weight of expectations or small-town gossip.

you watched her laugh, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners, and felt an overwhelming sense of warmth in your chest.

“so, what else do you do around here?” she asked, leaning back in the booth and sipping her coffee, eyes fixed on you with genuine interest. “besides fixing trucks.”

“not much, honestly,” you admitted, shrugging. “sometimes i’ll go out riding horses. there’s this trail out by the woods that’s perfect for it.”

“do you actually?”

“yeah,” you replied, a little surprised by her excitement. “my family’s got a few. i’ve been riding since i was a kid, how have you not seen our horses?”

“i guess i never noticed,” she said, sounding almost awestruck. “i always wanted to learn, but mum was convinced i’d end up falling off and breaking something.”

you chuckled, picturing a young minji, her eyes bright with excitement. “it’s not that dangerous, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

“well, i wouldn’t know what i’m doing, so there’s that,” she replied, laughing. “maybe someday you could…teach me?”

the question caught you off guard, but you nodded, trying to keep your voice casual. “yeah, sure. we could go sometime. i’d love to show you.”

a comfortable silence settled between you as you both finished your pie, stealing glances out the window at the quiet town beyond. it was strange, this sense of peace you felt around her, like you could share anything and it would feel normal.

after a while, she sighed, setting down her fork and looking at you thoughtfully. “thanks for bringing me here. i feel like i’m seeing this town in a new way, you know?”

“happy to share it with you,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “you make it feel different too.

minji’s cheeks flushed a little, but she didn’t look away. instead, she just smiled as you both let the quiet settle in again, savouring the feeling of being together.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

one weekend, like you had promised, you led minji toward the stables; showing her around the fields and introducing her to the horses. she was practically bouncing with excitement, taking everything in with curious eyes.

she’d been asking about the horses ever since you’d told her about them back at murphy’s, and today, she’d finally convinced you to let her come by to meet them.

“they’re even bigger up close,” she said, her voice filled with awe as she reached out, hesitating just a moment before brushing her fingers over the soft nose of your favourite horse, duke.

you grinned, patting duke on the neck. “he’s a gentle giant, aren’t you, buddy?”

duke gave a soft snort, leaning into your touch and her face lit up with a smile that made something warm bloom in your chest.

“can i feed him?” she asked, glancing at you for approval.

“sure,” you replied, grabbing a couple of carrots from the feed bucket nearby. “just keep your hand flat and he’ll be careful.”

she took the carrot, holding it out with her hand as you instructed and giggled as duke’s soft muzzle tickled her palm. “oh my god, he’s so sweet!”

“yeah, he’s a good boy,” you said, watching her with a fond smile.

seeing her here, surrounded by the horses and the familiar quiet of the stables, felt strangely right, as if she’d always belonged.

as she moved on to pet one of the other horses, you heard footsteps coming up behind you. turning, you saw your dad strolling into the stables, wiping his greasy hands on an old rag.

he raised an eyebrow when he spotted minji, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

“well, well, didn’t expect to see you bringing company out here, y/n,” he said, his gaze flicking from you to her with a look of pleasant surprise.

she turned, a bit flustered but quickly recovering with that bright smile of hers. “hi mr. l/n,” she greeted him, polite and cheerful as ever.

“minji,” he began, chuckling softly as he extended a hand, which she shook firmly. “heard a lot about you from your da. never thought i’d see you out here in the stables with y/n.”

“guess i just wanted to see the horses,” she responded, throwing a quick, slightly embarrassed glance at you. “she’s been telling me all about them.”

“did you now?” he gave you a knowing look, one that made you want to roll your eyes, but you held back. he’d always had that look in his eye whenever he saw you with friends, but this was different, he seemed more…amused.

“she’s never seen them ‘round, pa,” you laughed. “can you believe that?”

“well, make yourself at home,” he told her with a wink. “and darling, while you’re at it, i need you to run down to mrs. kim’s pet store later and pick up the order i put in. she’ll know what it is.”

“sure thing,” you replied, used to the occasional errand for him. “anything else?”

“and since you’ll be out, why don’t you stop by murphy’s and bring me one of those experimental pie slices too? been hearing a lot about his latest concoction.”

minji laughed, catching the joke. “are you sure you want to try it, mr. l/n? murphy’s experimental flavours can be…questionable.”

your dad chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “that’s exactly why i want it. figure life’s more fun with a little culinary risk, right?”

“you sound like murphy,” you said, shaking your head. “can i take the ‘88?”

“yeah, well, maybe he’s onto something,” your dad replied with a grin, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “alright, you two have fun with the horses. don’t let her talk your ear off about their ‘good temperament,’ minji.”

you huffed. “you didn’t answer my question!”

“yeah, yeah, whatever - s’long as you keep minji impressed over here.”

you rolled your eyes as he walked away, a smirk on his face as he disappeared out the stable door, clearly amused by the whole situation.

“your dad seems nice,” she said, her voice soft, watching him go.

“he is,” you replied, a touch of pride in your voice. “he’s the one who taught me everything about taking care of these guys. treats them like family.”

“i can tell,” she said, her stare lingering on you with a look that made you feel both shy and a little flustered. “him and my dad drink in our garage sometimes.”

“talking about cars and engines, i bet.”

“when do they not?”

after a while, you finished up at the stables, promising minji that you’d let her come back to ride sometime soon. together, you walked down main street, heading toward mrs. kim’s pet store for your dad’s order.

when you pushed open the door to the shop, the familiar musty scent of birdseed and old carpet washed over you.

mrs. kim looked up from the counter, her ever-present scowl deepening when she saw you and minji step inside.

“what do you two want?” she barked, her voice sharp as ever. her parrot, archie, squawked in response, as if echoing her sentiment.

“just picking up an order for my pa,” you replied, unfazed by her grumpiness. “he said you’d have it ready?”

she grumbled something under her breath, shuffling off to the back room. archie, watching you intently, tilted his head and squawked again, “no freeloaders!”

mrs. kim had been running the pet store for as long as you could remember; she was infamous for her suspicion of teenagers and her tendency to talk to her parrot, archie, as if he were her business partner.

“archie’s in a good mood, i see,” minji whispered, fighting back a laugh.

“archie’s always in a ‘good’ mood,” you replied with a smirk. “he and mrs. kim are like two peas in a pod.”

“i heard that,” mrs. kim snapped from the back room, making both of you jump.

you shot minji a look, both of you trying not to laugh. a moment later, she returned with a small bag and set it on the counter, eyeing you suspiciously. “make sure your dad pays on time this time, y/n.”

“he always does — got the wrong person again, mrs. kim,” you replied, handing her a few bills as she huffed, muttering about “young folks” under her breath.

as you turned to leave, minji leaned over the counter, giving mrs. kim a bright smile. “thank you, mrs. kim! we’ll be back soon for more of archie’s wisdom.”

her scowl softened just a fraction, and she gave her a begrudging nod. “well, you better keep your hands off the merchandise if you do.”

“of course,” minji replied, her voice light, before giving archie a little wave. “bye, archie!”

archie bobbed his head, squawking one last time, “no freeloaders!”

the two of you finally left the store, stepping back onto the sunny sidewalk, both of you dissolving into laughter as soon as you were out of mrs. kim’s radar.

“i swear, she’s the grumpiest person i’ve ever met,” she said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. “but i kind of love her.”

“i know,” you said, shaking your head. “town wouldn’t be the same without her, though. she keeps us all on our toes.”

“yeah,” she agreed, a soft smile on her face. “it’s kind of funny…i always talk about wanting to leave, but when i think about leaving people like mrs. kim or murphy behind, it actually makes me a little sad.”

you looked at her, surprised by the vulnerable admission. “you’ve been around them your whole life. it’d be weird not to have them around.”

“i know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “as much as i want to get out, sometimes i think about what i’d be leaving behind. like…like little pieces of myself are tied to this place.”

“maybe that’s what makes it home,” you said softly. “all these weird, wonderful people who make this place what it is.”

she looked at you, her expression thoughtful, and nodded. “yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“archie’s a character, too,” you added, switching back to a lighter conversation. “he’s probably the one keeping her in business.”

“definitely. everyone goes there just to see him, not her.”

“well, at least your dad knows how to keep life interesting,” she mumbled as the two of you strolled back toward murphy’s diner. “between ordering experimental pie and dealing with mrs. kim’s antics, i’d say he’s living his best life.”

you chuckled, feeling a warmth in your chest at the thought of your pa and the quirky charm of your small town. “yeah. he’s got it all figured out, i think.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sun was just starting to set as you sat on the porch with your dad, the last light casting a warm glow over the fields. he rocked slowly in his chair, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked over at you.

“so…you and minji been spending a lot of time together, huh?” he asked, in that familiar teasing tone of his.

you rolled your eyes, trying to act unbothered. “we’re just hanging out. she’s nice, that’s all.”

“just nice?” he raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “funny, ‘cause from what i hear, you’ve been giving her the grand tour of rhodes and introducing her to all the horses and such. don’t usually do that with just anyone.”

heat crept up your neck. “it’s not like that,” you muttered, glancing away. “besides, nothing’s ever gonna happen. you know how this town is — everyone goes to church on sundays and thinks people like me are going to hell.”

he was quiet for a moment, letting your words settle between you.

you felt the weight of them, the ache that came with knowing this town had walls, even if they were invisible.

“and anyway,” you continued, barely above a whisper, “minji’s straight. she’s probably just being nice ‘cause she feels sorry for me or something.”

your dad shook his head, his eyes soft and understanding. “kid, that’s nonsense. i don’t think she’s the type to spend time with someone just ‘cause she feels sorry for ‘em. from what i can see, that girl genuinely likes being around you — her da says that too.”

“even if she did, it wouldn’t matter.” you sighed, a mix of frustration and resignation in your voice. “this town…it’s not like people here would ever accept it. i mean, they’re all so set in their ways, and they’ve known each other forever. they’d never understand.”

he sent a thoughtful nod. “you’re right that people here got their ways. but you know…folks talk, but they don’t talk bad. they care about family, about helping each other out. they got their beliefs, sure, but i don’t think they’d turn their backs on you; you’re family.”

you looked down, fiddling with a loose thread on your sleeve. his words gave you a flicker of hope, though you weren’t quite sure if you believed him.

“and besides,” he added, a sly smile breaking through, “this isn’t about the town, is it? it’s about how you feel.”

“i know, but it doesn’t matter now. or ever. she’s too pretty, anyway.”

he leaned in, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. “so…you think she’s pretty, hey?”

you felt your face burn as you tried to stammer out a response, but before you could say anything, the sound of footsteps interrupted. you looked up, startled, and there she was — minji, standing just a few feet away with a shy smile, her eyes flicking between you and him.

“uh hey,” she said, clearly sensing she’d walked in on something. “i didn’t mean to interrupt, just thought i’d watch y/n work in the garage.”

it was nearly impossible to find your voice, too flustered to do anything but offer a small wave. your dad chuckled, his gaze bouncing from you to minji, and back again.

“well, speak of the devil,” he began, his voice full of that familiar warmth. “sweetheart, we were just talking about you.”

shooting him a look, you plead him to be quiet but the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t done yet.

she raised an eyebrow. “all good things?”

“y/n here was just saying how nice you are,” he continued, completely unfazed by your glare. “always good to see good folks spending time together.”

she smiled, her eyes catching yours for a brief second; something unreadable flickering in her gaze. “well, y/n, you’re pretty great company yourself.”

your pa just grinned, clearly pleased with himself, and gave you a little pat on the shoulder before he stood up. “i’ll leave you two to it, then.”

and with that, he strolled inside, whistling a tune, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to figure out what to say to the girl who had suddenly made everything feel so complicated.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the day minji returned to rhodes, the sky was heavy with the kind of grey clouds that seemed to hold a familiar quiet.

four years had slipped by since she’d left, the city pulling her away like a magnet, offering her a life she thought she wanted – or at least, a life she thought would make her forget. now, sitting in her da’s ‘72 chevy as he drove her back from the station, she felt the strange sense of both everything and nothing changing.

the truck rattled as they drove down the winding road that led into town, its worn seats and rusty interior a stark contrast to the sleek offices she was used to. it was only when she glanced down that she noticed the shiny new bolts in the dashboard, the hint of fresh paint.

“dad, did you fix the truck?” she asked, running her fingers along the smooth edge, noticing the little changes.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “i wish, y/n fixed it up. finally had the time to look under the hood,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice as he tapped the steering wheel. “opened up her own shop a year back. doing well, from what i see — helping me look after old girl here.”

she felt a twinge in her chest, an old, familiar ache she’d buried beneath years of work and distance. you. the girl who loved her in the quietest, fiercest way — the one she left behind. it was hard to picture you now, four years later, still here in the town that had once felt too small, too suffocating for her.

“she opened her own garage?” she repeated, trying to keep her voice casual, though her heart was pounding. the last she’d heard, you had been working odd jobs, fixing up trucks for people on the side, but she’d never imagined you actually staying, putting down roots here.

it didn’t quite make sense to her — you were keen on leaving, at some point.

“she did,” he nodded, his voice warm with the admiration he held for you. “that girl’s got talent and folks around here know it. opened the place up some years after her pa passed…not too long after you left, actually.”

the words hit her like a slap, sudden and jarring. “her dad…passed away?” she asked, barely able to get the words out. she felt a pang of guilt settle heavy in her stomach, a sick, sinking feeling that twisted through her. “what?”

he nodded, his expression softened with a sadness she hadn’t noticed before. “it was sudden. heart attack, coroner said. she was…well, she was left to handle things on her own. the town tried to help, but she didn’t really let anyone in. shut herself off, y’know?”

she stared at the passing landscape, her heart heavy with guilt and regret, memories surfacing of all the times she’d spent in their yard, watching you and your dad tinker with the trucks.

“sweetheart, tell your da to let that old girl rest,” he often joked, referring to the chevy. “and tell him to give it to me.”

he’d always had a way of making her feel like she belonged there, even though she was just a girl who’d wandered over too many times — looking for an excuse to be near you.

she could still remember his warm laugh as he handed her a sandwich, the smell of grilled cheese filling the air, sometimes even murphy’s pies, you rolling your eyes but smiling anyway as he fussed over them, asking if you’d had enough to eat, if you wanted something else.

she’d spent countless afternoons like that, sitting on the tailgate of an old truck, the three of you laughing and talking like a makeshift family.

and there were the stables, where your dad and her own had shown them the basics of horseback riding, teaching her how to hold the reins, how to stay calm. she could still hear his voice, patient and steady, guiding her through each step, his pride evident every time she got something right.

those moments had felt like a small slice of paradise, a simplicity and warmth that she hadn’t appreciated enough at the time.

now, the weight of her absence settled over her, a hollow ache that grew with each memory. “why didn’t anyone tell me?” she asked, her voice trembling with frustration. “i would’ve…i would’ve come back…or done something.”

her da heaved a sigh, his expression sad but understanding. “darling, it wasn’t exactly an easy thing to bring up. you were busy with college, building a life out there, we didn’t want to pull you back into something you’d left behind. and y/n, she wasn’t letting anyone in. not even us.”

“she shut everyone out?” she whispered, her chest tightening at the thought of you going through that alone. “i was her…friend.”

she’d left, chasing a future in the city, cutting ties, thinking she could escape without looking back; you stayed.

the town looked the same — fields stretching out wide, familiar old houses dotting the road, half-empty streets lined with memories she’d tried so hard to bury. she remembered thinking she needed to get out, to be someone bigger than this place. everything felt smaller, yes, but also somehow more real.

“your friends are still around, you know,” he said, glancing over at her. “danielle, hanni, haerin, hyein; most folks have moved on, but those girls are still here. might do you some good to see them while you’re back.”

she smiled faintly, memories of their laughter, their teenage dreams, filling her mind.

“maybe,” she murmured, though her thoughts were elsewhere.

he gave her a sideways glance, his eyes softening with something close to pity. “you know, darling, it’s funny how we all make a big fuss about things that don’t really matter,” he began slowly, like he was choosing his words carefully. “when you two were younger, we all knew. hell, everyone knew. this town may be small, but we ain’t small-minded.”

she shifted in her seat uncomfortably, looking down at her hands. she could feel the sting of shame creeping in, a bitter taste at the back of her throat. “you…you didn’t care?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

minji felt stupid — realising just how much of her fear had been rooted in an imagined rejection, an unfounded worry of not being accepted in the eyes of her own family.

he shook his head, his expression soft. “we just wanted you to be happy. you two were good for each other. anyone could see that. your mother and i, we didn’t care, not like you thought,” he sighed, looking out at the familiar fields and fences as they passed by. “but you ran off, and i think she, well, she tried to move on too. but this town has a funny way of holding on to people.”

“what do you mean?” she bit her lip, playing with the hem of her shirt.

“she left when you did, but came back,” he admitted, sighing. “think she wanted to find you, knocked on our door one night asking for your address.”

her heart dropped. “why didn’t she call me?”

“y/n and phones don’t work well together,” he laughed lightly. “we tried to call you to let you know, but you were barely answering anyone ‘round the time —“

“i’m sorry,” a tear slipped out of her eye. “i didn’t mean to; i don’t know why i acted like rhodes didn’t do me any good.”

he placed his hand on top of hers, squeezing it gently. “whatever happens, you apologise to that girl, alright? make things right before you leave her again — you two were good together.”

she nodded, unable to look at him, her mind racing with memories, with the realisation of all she’d left behind, the things she’d tried to forget.

the words settled over her it was soothing a wound she hadn’t known she still carried. she’d spent so much time running, afraid that love would trap her, would limit her to a small life in a small town.

right now, sitting beside her da, she felt a strange sense of clarity. perhaps she’d underestimated this place and the people in it.

they drove in comfortable silence until, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone riding a horse along the edge of the field that bordered the road.

her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the figure — your figure, sitting tall and steady, guiding duke with practiced ease; his golden brown coat shining against the light. you looked so much like the girl she remembered, and yet different, a little older, a little harder, like the years had carved something new into you.

when the truck drove pass, you forced yourself to remain steady, giving a small nod to her dad. yet you kept your gaze neutral, as if minji wasn’t even there, like the sight of her hadn’t stirred something deep within you.

she was just another face in the passing cars, another stranger returning to a place she’d left behind.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

everything started to change in senior year. maybe it was the way she began to linger a little longer at the gate, waiting for you even when her friends had already headed off without her. or maybe it was the stolen glances, the subtle softening of her expression when she looked your way, as if she saw something there she hadn’t noticed before.

whatever it was, you both fell into it quietly, like it was bound to happen someday.

it started as a subtle shift. you had always coexisted in the same small world, but it was only in those final years of high school that the space between you began to close. you couldn’t remember exactly when the glances turned into something more, when the quiet nods in the mornings became soft smiles, lingering a second longer than before.

the summer night was thick with warmth, the air alive with laughter, music, and the soft crackle of a bonfire that cast flickering shadows across the lake.

these gatherings always felt a little surreal, like you were watching a movie of someone else’s life from the outside, not quite fitting into the easy flow of conversation and laughter that everyone else seemed to slip into naturally.

minji was there too, laughing with her friends, her figure caught in the soft glow of the fire. she was radiant tonight, her summer dress clinging to her as she moved. you tried not to look at her too much, to avoid the tightness in your chest whenever she glanced your way or threw her head back in laughter at something one of her friends said.

she was beautiful, so bright and alive that it hurt to look directly at her for too long, like staring into the sun.

you kept your distance in front of the fire, knowing it was safer this way. you were her friend — but that was all. wanting more than that was a line you couldn’t cross, a risk you weren’t sure you could take.

and yet, it didn’t stop the ache, the impossible yearning that twisted inside you every time you saw her smile at someone else.

“hey buddy,” hanni scooted beside you, handing you another can of beer. she was one of minji’s friends from the cheerleading team. “why don’t you join her?”

you shook your head, warmth rushing to your cheeks as you took the budweiser. “thanks hanni - and i’m all good, i’m too awkward to make conversation anyways.”

she chuckled, cracking her can open. “minji talks a whole heap ‘bout you — all good things too.”

“that’s good to know,” you smiled. and for a second, minji’s eyes land on you both, motioning for you to come. “go ahead, join them.”

“s’ppose i should,” she stood up, patting your back. “come join us later, yeah?”

it was as you were lost in thought that he appeared — sunoo. he slipped into their group around, all charm and confidence and leaned close to minji, his hand brushing against her arm as he said something that made her laugh. she didn’t pull away, didn’t seem to mind his closeness and the sight of it made your stomach twist.

what he wanted was too obvious; it was written all over his face, in the way his eyes followed her, the way he leaned into her like she was already his.

there was some sort of bitterness churning in your chest. sunoo was everything you weren’t —outgoing, popular, confident in ways you couldn’t be. he could have her without hiding, without pretending and the thought of it was like a knife twisting in your heart.

you weren’t sure how long you watched them, how long you let yourself feel that raw, consuming ache, but eventually, it was too much.

without a word, you turned and walked away from the bonfire, letting the noise and laughter fade behind you as you headed down toward the jetty, where the lake stretched out into the dark, quiet and still untouched by the party.

letting your feet dangle over the water, you stared out at the lake. the gentle lap of the waves against the wood soothing but not enough to calm the storm inside you.

it was painful, this quiet longing, this want that could never be more than a secret. you wanted her more than you’d ever wanted anything but you knew you’d never be able to have her the way you wanted to — openly, without fear, without shame.

she was quiet as she walked down the jetty, her footsteps soft, almost hesitant. when she finally reached you, she sat down beside you, her legs swinging over the edge as she stared out at the water, her face bathed in the silver glow of moonlight.

“there you are,” she muttered softly, not looking at you. “why did you leave?”

you shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the lake. “just needed some air.”

“is that really all?” her voice was steady, but there was something beneath it, something careful and probing.

you clenched your jaw, unwilling to admit it. “i just didn’t want to be around all those people.”

she didn’t answer right away, and you could feel her watching you, her gaze intense, searching.

“y/n,” she said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “why don’t you ever look at me? really look at me for a second longer?”

the question startled you, and for a moment, you couldn’t find your voice. you looked away, your heart hammering, feeling raw and exposed under her stares. “what are you talking about? i look at you all the time, minji.”

“no,” she murmured, shaking her head, her eyes never leaving you. “not like that. not the way you look at me when you think i’m not watching.”

you swallowed, feeling a surge of panic. you hadn’t realised she’d noticed the way your gaze lingered a little too long, the way you watched her like she was the only person in the room. you’d thought you’d hidden it well, that she couldn’t possibly see the feelings you’d kept buried so deeply inside.

“minji, i…” you started, your voice barely audible, thick with everything you wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for. “it’s complicated.”

she didn’t look away, her gaze steady, unflinching. “complicated?” she repeated, a trace of frustration in her voice. “we both know there’s something here. we’ve both felt it…haven’t we?”

you wanted to tell her the truth, to let everything you’d been holding back pour out, but the words felt stuck in your throat, tangled up with fear and doubt.

“you don’t understand,” you told her, your voice barely more than a breath. “you’re perfect. you belong in the light, with people who can stand beside you without hiding. i don’t want to be someone you have to keep a secret.”

she let out a soft, shaky laugh, her fingers brushing against yours, sending a spark of warmth through you. “you think i care about that?” she murmured, her voice raw, vulnerable. “you’re the one person who’s ever really seen me. who’s ever made me feel like…like i’m enough.”

the honesty in her words was like a jolt, cutting through the walls you’d built around yourself. you turned to her, finally meeting her eyes and the intensity in them took your breath away.

there was something there, and for the first time, you let yourself hope — hope that maybe she felt the same way.

“minji…” you whispered, barely able to speak, your voice thick with everything you’d kept hidden. “i’m scared.”

she reached out then, her fingers grazing your cheek, her touch gentle but steady. “me too,” she admitted, her voice trembling just slightly. “but that doesn’t change the way i feel. i don’t want to hide from this, from you. not anymore.”

before you could process what was happening, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was soft, as if she were testing the waters.

you froze for a moment, caught off guard by the rush of warmth, the softness of her touch, and then you kissed her back; the weight of all your unspoken feelings pouring into that single moment.

her hands found their way to your neck, fingers threading through your hair as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss, her lips warm and insistent against yours.

there was something desperate in the way she kissed you, as if she’d been holding back just as much as you had, as if this was a release, a breaking point you’d both been hurtling toward for so long.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, her forehead resting against yours as she closed her eyes, a small, contented smile playing on her lips.

“see?” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth. “that wasn’t so hard and scary now, was it?”

you chuckled, a small laugh, feeling a sense of relief and joy you hadn’t known you’d been holding back. “not with you,” you murmured, your fingers lacing through hers.

she leaned her head against your shoulder, her hand still entwined with yours, the two of you sitting there in the quiet, the world around you fading into the background.

“my love,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence, “i don’t care about what people think. i don’t care if we have to hide.”

you turned to her, feeling something settle in your chest, something warm and steady, and you squeezed her hand, nodding. “then we’ll make it work. one step at a time.”

she smiled, a soft, genuine smile that lit up her face, and as you both sat there on the edge of the jetty, the lake stretching out into the quiet of the night.

she was worth it. and for the first time, you let yourself believe that perhaps you could have this; the kind of love you’d always thought was beyond reach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

for the next few months, your world became a quiet paradise — stolen moments and secret meetings. there was a thrill to it, hiding from the prying eyes of the town, laughing together as you pulled her behind barns or up into the fields where no one could see. it was always careful, always hidden. there was too much at risk if people found out – a town like yours didn’t take kindly to love that didn’t fit within its old, narrow-minded lines.

every day, you moved through the halls and classrooms, blending into the background, unnoticed by most, unless they asked you to look at their truck.

since you’d started seeing minji, your world seemed to shift in small ways that you couldn’t help but notice.

take lunch, for instance, it had started to feel like the highlight of your day. you’d usually sit alone or with a few other quiet friends, minding your own business, eating whatever lunch you’d packed from home.

on some days, she would appear, just casually walking by your table, glancing around like she wasn’t really looking for anyone in particular.

she’d give you a quick nod, a hint of a smile and drop something onto the table in front of you: a sandwich, a bag of fruit, or even a little box with cookies she’d baked the night before.

“you gotta eat,” she never said more than that; she’d just let the items slide across the table before walking off, her gaze distant, like she hadn’t just slipped you a part of herself.

“what’s that all about?” jimin asked you one time, his eyes twinkled with curiosity. “you bribe her or something?”

“just payment for fixing her car one time,” you lied through your teeth.

one of the days jimin wasn’t around, she handed you a sandwich wrapped in wax paper, carefully made, crusts cut off, the kind of neat, perfect thing you’d expect from someone like her.

you looked down at it, raising an eyebrow before looking up at her with a questioning glance.

she rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the small smile playing on her lips. “don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, her voice low so no one else would hear. “i just…made an extra, mum thought it’d be nice for me to give the neighbour one.”

you couldn’t help but grin, glancing around to make sure no one else was watching before unwrapping it. the sandwich was cut into perfect triangles, layered with fresh ingredients, something better than you would’ve ever packed for yourself. taking a bite, you could taste a mix of flavours, like she’d actually put thought into what you’d like.

“you don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you said quietly, the words softened by the smile you couldn’t hold back. “i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“maybe i want to,” she replied, a hint of defiance in her tone. “and besides, it’s not like you’re any good at packing lunches.” she glanced down, brushing an invisible speck off her shirt. “consider it…payback for letting me take duke out for a stroll.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “right, payback,” you repeated, knowing it was an excuse, a flimsy cover for something neither of you would ever say out loud, not here in this cafeteria, surrounded by people who wouldn’t understand.

“see you later?”

“later,” you nodded.

she began to walk away, but then turned around. “where’s jimin? why are you all alone?”

“oh, he’s somewhere ‘round the library.”

sometimes, in between classes, you’d find little notes slipped into the side pocket of your backpack, tucked away where no one else would see. they were simple, scribbled on scraps of paper, sometimes written hastily as if she’d been worried someone might see.

meet me by the bleachers after school.

or sometimes just a simple:

thinking of you.

each note was like a quiet reminder that, even in this place where you both had to pretend, she was still there, still yours in ways no one else could see.

and then there were moments in class, small interactions that felt like secrets passed between you in plain sight.

in history class, she’d sit a few seats ahead of you, close enough that you could catch her profile when she turned her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder. sometimes, she’d glance back, just for a second, and her eyes would meet yours. her lips would twitch in the hint of a smile, so brief that you’d almost wonder if you’d imagined it, before she turned back, her focus on the teacher, face calm and composed.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

one day, as the bell rang and students began to file out, you were gathering your things when you felt a light touch on your shoulder. you turned to find her standing beside you, her expression calm as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to be waiting for you like this.

“forgot your pencil,” she murmured, holding it out to you.

you blinked, glancing down at the pencil in her hand. it wasn’t yours — it was hers, the one she’d been using to write down notes during english class.

“thanks,” you said softly, taking it from her. your fingers brushed, the brief contact sending a spark through you that you fought to keep off your face.

“no problem,” she replied, giving you a small smile before turning and slipping into the crowd, her footsteps blending with the sounds of students heading to their next classes.

after school, you’d wait by the bleachers, like she’d asked in her note, the cool breeze brushing against you as you watched the field, waiting for her familiar silhouette.

when she finally appeared, she’d slip beside you, careful to keep a few inches of distance in case anyone saw. but once you were alone, she’d let the distance disappear, leaning into you, her hand finding yours, fingers interlacing as if they’d been made to fit.

“you know, we’re pretty good at this whole sneaking-around thing,” she’d say with a smirk, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper.

you’d laugh, pulling her closer, the world fading as she looked up at you, her gaze warm and open, the side of her that no one else ever got to see.

“yeah, we are,” you’d reply, your voice thick with the happiness that came from simply being near her.

but it wasn’t perfect. minji was torn between her love for you and the life she was expected to lead. she still wore her role as the town’s golden girl, her perfect smiles and flawless routines. in school, she was still minji, the cheerleader, the girl who turned heads.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was early morning, sunlight barely beginning to filter through the kitchen window as you sat across from your pa, both of you wrapped in the quiet warmth of the house. he was sipping his coffee slowly, his gaze flicking to you over the rim of his mug with that familiar, soft smile.

mornings with him were usually quiet, a calm routine of eggs, bacon, and the occasional weathered joke about the new mayor or murphy.

but today, he looked at you with a different kind of mischief.

“so,” he started, drawing out the word as he reached for his mug, “i hear whispers that young love might be in the air.”

you choked a little on your toast, shooting him a look. “what’re you talking about, old man?”

he shrugged, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “oh, nothing. just that i’ve seen you two running around a lot more lately. seems like every time i look outside, you’re showing minji how to fix up the old truck, or you’re off to murphy’s together. ‘bout time you made a girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“minji’s not…i mean, she’s just…” you felt the heat creeping up your neck and ducked your head, focusing on your plate. “it’s nothing like that.”

“mmhm,” he hummed, watching you over the rim of his cup. his eyes crinkled in a way that suggested he didn’t believe you at all. “nothing like that. you know, i wasn’t born yesterday, kid. i know the look of young love when i see it. and i see it whenever she’s around.”

fidgeting with the handle of your coffee mugc you shifted in your seat. “we’re just friends, pa. it’s not…it’s not like that.”

“well, friend or not,” he continued, his voice softening. “i’m glad you’ve got her. this town can be small and stifling. finding someone who makes it feel a little bigger, a little brighter? that’s special.” he leaned forward, his expression gentler now, serious. “and if it’s more than that? well, that’s okay too.”

you were quiet for a long moment, letting his words sink in. your pa, who you’d thought would be the first to disapprove if he ever caught wind of anything between you and another girl, was sitting here telling you it was okay. telling you he saw something good in it.

“and even if we were dating…it’s not like folks around here would accept it,” you finally admitted.

he nodded, considering this. “you’re right. people here can be set in their ways. but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and so does minji from what i’ve seen. besides, the world’s changing. more than you might think.” he reached out and gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “sometimes, you just have to carve out your own happiness, no matter where you are.”

you looked down at his hand over yours, feeling a sense of warmth and support that made your chest ache.

“you really think it could work?” you asked softly, almost to yourself.

“why not?” he replied with a gentle smile. “you two look at each other like there’s no one else in the world. that’s rare, kid. don’t be so quick to brush it off. your ma would be proud if she were here.”

the idea of a future, of something real and tangible with minji, flickered in your mind, fragile and uncertain. it was a thought you hadn’t allowed yourself to dwell on before, too afraid of what it would mean. hearing your dad’s quiet approval, his belief in something that had only been a whisper of hope in your own heart, made it feel…possible.

“so you’re seeing the town’s princess, huh?” he added with a smirk, breaking the serious moment and making you roll your eyes, feeling the heat creep up your cheeks again.

“i’m not talking about this with you, old man,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

just then, the screen door creaked open, and you glanced up to see minji standing on the porch, her hand raised in a tentative wave.

“speak of the devil again,” he said under his breath, giving you a knowing look before he stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. “morning, minji,” he greeted her, tipping his hat as he passed by. “got errands to run with your da today.”

as he disappeared into the other room, she stepped inside, flashing you a bright smile that only made your stomach twist further.

“hey,” she greeted, glancing between you and the door your dad had just exited from. “everything okay?”

you nodded, forcing yourself to return her smile. “yeah, everything’s good.”

later that afternoon — the fields were quiet, bathed in the soft amber of the setting sun, the sky stretching out wide and endless above you two.

you lied beside each other on the blanket, surrounded by wildflowers and the tall grass, nothing but the sounds of the distant crickets and the soft whisper of the wind between you. it was your secret spot, the one place in the whole world where you felt like nothing else mattered.

minji was on her back, gazing up at the sky with that faraway look she sometimes got, the one that told you she was somewhere else, imagining bigger things beyond the town limits.

you turned to watch her, the golden light casting a glow over her features, her expression open and hopeful in a way she rarely let anyone see. “you’re beautiful, you know that?”

she chuckled, tilting her head in your direction. “says you.”

then the silence returned — she was in deep thought again.

“baby, have you ever thought about it?” she asked suddenly, breaking the quiet, her voice gentle but filled with something electric. “leaving this place? just…going somewhere new, somewhere no one knows us?”

you let out a small, thoughtful hum, your eyes tracing the lines of her face. “not really. i mean, this is home. pa’s here. everything i know is here.”

“yeah, but there’s so much more out there,” she said, a glint of excitement in her eyes as she turned to you, propping herself up on one elbow. “the city is full of things we can’t even imagine. places to see, people who’d never think twice about…us.”

“and what do you imagine?” you asked softly, feeling your heart quicken at the way she was looking at you.

her lips curved into a small smile, her eyes bright with a dreamy sort of wonder. “i imagine living in a tiny apartment where you can see the city lights from the windows. going to diners at midnight, meeting new people, exploring places no one’s heard of. and not having to hide who i am, or who i’m with.”

she reached out, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of your hand. “don’t you want that too?”

you sighed, glancing out over the fields, feeling a pang of longing you hadn’t even realised was there. “perhaps. i mean, i like it here. it’s…safe, you know? sure, it’s not perfect but it’s home.”

she fell quiet for a moment, her fingers still tracing patterns on your skin and then she leaned closer, her voice soft and persuasive. “but what if we could make a new home?”

you closed your eyes, her words wrapping around you like a promise. you’d always thought you’d stay here, grow old in the same town but the way she spoke, with such certainty, made you wonder if there could be something more — something that didn’t have to end with this field, this town, this life.

“it’s a lot to ask,” you murmured, opening your eyes to find her watching you, hope flickering in her gaze.

“i know,” she whispered, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, her fingers lingering against your cheek. “but maybe we could try.”

“you don’t even know what it’s like out there, darling. the city isn’t…it’s not a fairy tale.”

“maybe it’s not,” she replied, her voice steady, resolute. “but i’d rather find out with you than stay here wondering. don’t you ever wonder?”

you looked at her, the conviction in her eyes making your chest tighten. “i do wonder. sometimes,” you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. “but i’m scared. what if it’s too much? what if we…lose ourselves?”

she squeezed your hand, her gaze unwavering. “we won’t. we’ll have each other. that’s all we’ll need.”

and in that moment, you believed her. because if there was anyone who could make the world feel manageable, even the vast unknown of the city, it was her and her alone.

“you know,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips, “for you, i’d probably do anything.”

her smile softened, a trace of something bittersweet in her eyes. “then come with me. let’s get out of here, together. i don’t want to look back and regret never taking a chance on this. on us.”

you looked away, toward the horizon, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. “i’d miss him. my pa, your parents, murphy…mrs. kim, jimin.”

she nodded, her hand still wrapped around yours. “i know. and he’d miss you too, but we’ll visit every weekend. it’s only a plane ride away.”

you thought about the way your pa had looked at you, the way he’d smiled when he saw you with minji. you looked back at her, feeling the resolve harden in your chest, a quiet courage you hadn’t known you had. “yeah. yeah, we will.”

she grinned, the joy in her expression contagious. “then let’s do it, y/n. let’s plan it out. save up, make it happen. we’ll find a way.”

and as the sun sank lower, you lie back in the grass beside her, letting yourself dream about a life where you didn’t have to hide. and you knew, deep down, that as long as minji was beside you, you’d be willing to try.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was a gradual thing at first, barely noticeable in the beginning. one day, minji’s texts were just a little shorter, her replies a bit slower. maybe she had a lot on her mind, you’d told yourself.

she had college applications and cheer practice and her family always had a thousand expectations. it wasn’t like she had to be by your side every second.

soon, the changes grew harder to ignore. from giving you lunches to none at all — she’d even take a spot further from your table, putting herself at a subtle distance. at parties or the diner, she’d laugh a little too loudly with her friends, her eyes skimming over you like you were just another familiar face in the crowd. her laughter, once soft and shared between the two of you, had become louder and brighter around others.

she was trying too hard, and that hurt more than anything.

and when you’d walk to school, she’d trail a few steps behind you, enough that it seemed like she wasn’t with you at all. every time she pulled back, it was like a small tear in something you hadn’t realised was stitched so deeply into your chest.

“everything okay, baby?” you’d asked one afternoon as you leaned against the locker next to hers, catching her alone for the first time in days.

she’d barely looked at you, her eyes flickering around the crowded hallway as if someone might see the two of you standing so close.

“yeah fine,” she replied too quickly, her voice light but hollow. “just busy. you know how it is.”

“righto,” you tried to keep the hurt out of your voice, shoving your hands into your pockets as you looked at her, trying to read her expression but her stare remained fixed on anything but you. “you’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

she hesitated, and for a brief second, the mask slipped. you saw the fear in her eyes, the uncertainty, but just as quickly, she hid it behind a bright smile. “of course, my love. there’s nothing wrong.”

she didn’t walk with you that day, catching a lift with one of the girls. and when you saw her with her friends, she barely acknowledged your presence. each day, it felt like you were losing pieces of her, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

another day, you’d been at murphy’s with her, sneaking glances at her from across the table as she sat with her arms crossed, tense. you tried to keep things light, talking about the old regulars who always had the same orders, the way murphy’s experimental pies could probably kill a man with one bite.

she’d laughed, but it was strained, and her eyes kept darting to the door, watching every person who walked in, as if terrified that someone might see the two of you together.

“are you…embarrassed to be seen with me now?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it. it was softer than you’d intended, almost a whisper.

her face fell, and she shook her head quickly, reaching out before pulling her hand back as if she couldn’t bear to be caught touching you. “no, it’s not like that.”

“then what is it?” you pressed, leaning forward, heart pounding. “i don’t understand. we were fine a few weeks ago, and now…you barely look at me.”

she glanced around, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. “people are starting to notice,” she whispered, eyes dropping to the table. “they’re… they’re talking, y/n. i heard some girls in my class say they saw us holding hands at the lake. and god, if people figure it out —“

“so what if they do?” your voice was harsher than you’d intended, frustration and hurt boiling over. “let them talk, minji. who cares? you said we were going to work through it together.”

“you don’t get it,” she snapped back, eyes flashing with something like fear. “you know what kind of town this is.”

you fell silent, her words cutting deep, the reality of what rhodes could be crashing down around you. it didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the feeling that she was slipping away, bit by bit.

“i just…i just need some space,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “it’s not forever, y/n. just until things calm down.”

you nodded, trying to swallow the bitter taste of disappointment. “yeah, space. if that’s what you need.”

she gave you a small, apologetic smile, but it felt like a thousand miles were stretching between you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the morning sun filtered through your window as you adjusted your cap, tossing a few stray strands of hair under it. it was time to get back to your routine. you had thrown yourself into fixing trucks once again, focusing on the familiar sound of tools clanging and engines revving rather than the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you since the fight with minji.

you spent the day working on a 73’ mustang in the garage, hands greasy and your mind occupied with the rhythm of tightening bolts and checking fluids.

when you heard laughter coming from the living room, you paused, wiping your hands on a rag and leaning against the doorframe.

minji’s parents were over, visiting your pa, and you could hear their chatter echoing through the house. your heart sank as you strained to hear her name amidst the laughter.

“she’s been spending a lot of time with sunoo lately,” her ma said, her voice full of casual concern. “i hope she’s not getting too serious with him. that boy is trouble.”

it felt like the ground had dropped beneath you, an ache rising from the pit of your stomach. you’d been giving her space, hoping it was what she needed to make sense of everything, hoping she’d come back. but hearing she’d gone out with someone else — it hurt more than you wanted to admit, more than you were prepared for.

“y/n!” she noticed you walk in, a big smile on her face. “look at you working hard — going to open up a shop like your pa, aren’t you?”

“no, she’s moving to the city with minji, aren’t ya?” her dad laughing, elbowing yours jokingly. “that’s if this old man lets her go.”

“if she asks nicely,” your pa responded with a teasing smile. “with minji.”

“nonsense, y/n will run this town one day,” she dismissed her husband.

“one day, ma’am,” you replied politely as you ducked your head. “i have to grab something from the back — i’ll leave you old folks to it.”

later that morning, you slipped back into your room quietly, not wanting anyone to see the way your face had tightened with barely-contained hurt. a few minutes later, there was a knock on your door.

“kiddo?” your dad’s voice was gentle. he stepped inside, giving you a long look, and you could feel him taking in the tension in your shoulders, the slight clench in your jaw. “you alright?”

you nodded, brushing him off with a forced smile, though you knew he wasn’t fooled. “yeah, just tired. lot of work on the mustang today.”

he sighed, settling into the chair by your desk. “i know things have been…complicated lately. if you ever want to talk, i’m here.”

you swallowed, feeling the weight of his kindness, but all you managed was another nod, the words you wanted to say too tangled to even begin to unravel. he patted your shoulder once, his touch reassuring, and left you with your thoughts.

you shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you threw your cap onto the bed. “yeah, just tired.”

he stepped closer, his voice softening. “you can talk to me if something’s bothering you.”

“it’s nothing, really,” you said quickly, trying to dismiss his concern. “just…school stuff.”

after studying you for a moment, you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “you know, when your ma and i used to have arguments — i was the same.”

you forced a smile, but it felt hollow. “i’ll be fine, dad. really.”

with a reluctant nod, he left you to your thoughts. but his words lingered, echoing in your mind, and you found yourself thinking of minji, of the way her laughter used to feel like home.

the next morning, you decided to change your routine. you started leaving for school earlier than minji, avoiding the moments you used to cherish.

this time, you rolled up the blue mustang you had been working on for weeks. it gleamed in the sunlight, the chrome reflecting the admiration of your classmates as they gathered around, whispering and pointing. you could feel the admiration but it didn’t fill the void left by minji’s absence.

for days, you kept this routine, ignoring her glances, her quiet attempts to catch your eye. the tables were turning, and even when you found small notes tucked into your locker or slipped between your books, you left them untouched, the sight of her familiar handwriting too much to face.

the hurt simmered, mingling with an anger you hadn’t expected — anger that you’d let yourself believe things could be different.

during lunch, you sat at the back of the cafeteria with mina and jimin, trying to engage in a thoughtful conversation.

“so, are you gonna drive jimin and i around town?” mina asked, half-joking. “dad saw it this morning and messaged me to ask you if he could buy it.”

“maybe,” you chuckled. “i don’t know if i can let go of these cars yet.”

“that’s why you don’t got a woman,” she rolled her eyes at you playfully.

“hey!” you slapped her hand off your redbull. “leave me alone, just cause you have boys lined up in your texts.”

you could feel minji’s eyes on you, the hurt and confusion etched into her features as she watched you laugh and joke with another girl — since when did mina even sit with you and jimin?

the pit in your stomach deepened as you noticed her brow furrow, an annoyed look crossing her face as she turned to hanni and danielle.

when you quietly walked with jimin to history class, he gave you a long look before speaking.

“you know, everyone’s been talking about the car,” he started with a smile, then softened as he took in your expression. “but i think there’s something more you’re not telling me.”

you hummed, trying to wave him off, but he just gave you that knowing look. “y/n, it’s okay. whatever’s going on between you and minji…i’ve always noticed. and i’m not here to judge.

you blinked, surprised. you hadn’t expected anyone to know, least of all jimin, and definitely not for him to look at you with nothing but love and understanding.

“i’ve always known,” he continued gently, “and if you’re worried about people finding out, don’t be. no one who matters will care about that. and you shouldn’t either.”

his words sank in, easing the knot that had been twisting in your chest for days. you sighed, finally letting the mask drop for a moment. “it’s just complicated. she got worried and now…”

he nodded. “sometimes people need to figure things out for themselves, but it doesn’t mean they don’t care. maybe give her a chance to explain.”

the confession hung in the air between you, and your heart raced. “it’s not that simple,” you finally said, frustration leaking into your voice. “i heard she was going out with that asshole sunoo, but she said she only needed space.

“right, but i’ve seen her slip notes in your locker, you should stop ignoring her,” he urged, his eyes earnest.

running a hand through your hair, you sighed. “maybe it’s for the best, that we don’t talk.”

“or maybe you just need to work things out. if it doesn’t go well, at least you’ll know.”

his words lingered in your mind long after he left, weighing heavily on your conscience. that evening, as you sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling, you realized that you couldn’t keep running away from minji.

the next morning, you decided to walk to school like usual when you see her standing just outside your gate, her arms wrapped around herself like she was bracing for something. she looked up as you approached, her expression a mix of nervousness and apology, her gaze hopeful but uncertain.

“can we talk?” her voice was soft, almost hesitant.

you nodded, leading her over to the side of the house, away from any prying eyes. the silence stretched between you, heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking a little. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just got scared. scared of everyone noticing, of what they’d think, of…us.”

you looked away, the hurt still fresh. “so you went out with sunoo?”

her face fell. “it’s not what you think. i was out with hanni and danielle. i told my parents i was with sunoo because i didn’t want them to think we were dating.”

you took a shaky breath, looking down at her, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. “so you pushed me away just because your folks noticed?”

she took a step closer, her hand reaching for yours, her touch gentle. “because i was scared. i didn’t know how to handle this, handle…us. but i’m not scared anymore. i don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

her words settled between you, softening the edges of your hurt. she squeezed your hand, her gaze unwavering, and for the first time in days, you let yourself believe her.

you pulled her into a hug, burying your face in her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around you, holding on like she was afraid you might slip away:

“don’t pull away again,” you murmured against her hair, the words a plea as much as a promise.

she nodded, her voice a whisper in the quiet. “i won’t. not ever again.”

as you stood there, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you and the promise of a future that felt just within reach.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the weeks drifted by, and while things were back to a tentative normal between you and minji, you could still feel the hesitation beneath her smiles and laughter. she was there with you, present and warm but some part of her held back, like she was testing the waters but ready to pull back at any moment.

whenever you sensed it, you held your tongue, deciding to give her the space to come to you in her own time. you both kept your routines — trips to murphy’s, teasing mrs. kim until she would roll her eyes and tell you to stop distracting her. you’d sit in your usual booth, sharing fries and stories of the day, filling the air between you with a comfort that kept you going.

as the end of senior year crept closer, word spread about a big party at taehyung’s house to celebrate. when mina and jimin brought it up at lunch, your first instinct was to turn it down. you knew minji would be there, but something held you back from wanting to be part of the crowd.

“come on, y/n, it’ll be fun,” mina nudged, her grin contagious. “you’ve been working too hard on those trucks. you deserve a night to let loose!”

jimin, sitting across from you, chimed in with his usual calm encouragement. “plus, it’s one of the last times we’ll all be together like this. just for a few hours?”

after a bit of convincing, you finally sighed, “alright, fine. but if it gets too much, i’m leaving early.”

the night felt heavy with the anticipation of summer as you stepped into taehyung’s backyard, which was buzzing with energy. lights were strung up from tree branches, and music poured from a speaker on the porch, filling the air with a low, steady beat. people laughed and shouted around you, all in a celebratory mood as if they could already taste graduation in the air.

mina and jimin led the way, pulling you toward a quieter spot just beyond the bonfire. a large group had gathered but you found some space with your friends around a patio table set up under the stars.

minji’s presence across the yard kept tugging at you. she looked effortlessly pretty, caught up in animated conversation with hanni and danielle.

her laughter floated through the crowd, and every time she tilted her head to toss her hair back, it felt like your heart skipped a beat.

as you sat with jimin and mina, your attention was pulled back to their laughter and light teasing. you tried to let their words drown out the ache, listening as they joked about plans after high school.

“so, what’s next for you two?” mina grinned, leaning forward with a sparkle in her eyes. “i mean, please tell me you’re both sticking around?”

“definitely,” jimin nodded, his expression easy and relaxed as he took a sip out of his wine bottle. “my uncle’s got a job lined up for me at his mill. it’s nothing fancy, but it’s good work.”

you smiled at him, grateful to hear the certainty in his voice. “sounds like you’re gonna be the nepo baby of that mill.”

“hey,” he laughed, shrugging as he nodded his head at mina. “what about you?”

mina shrugged, looking out at the yard. “i’m probably helping out at my parents’ restaurant. not exactly glamorous, but i don’t mind. plus, i’ll be around to keep you two in line!” she shot you a teasing look, and you rolled your eyes with a smile.

the conversation shifted as minji, hanni, and danielle made their way over, pulling up seats around the table. it didn’t take long for the topic to extend beyond the girls.

“so, what about you, minji?” jimin asked, a faint curiosity in his tone. “you’ve got big plans, i bet?”

minji’s eyes lit up, her excitement unmistakable. “i’m planning to head to seattle. there’s a really great law program there and my mum already knows people who could help me get an internship. it’ll be…different, you know?” she looked around, her gaze lingering on each of you, but it felt like she was already somewhere else, looking past the small town lights and imagining herself far away.

you forced a smile, nodding along, even though the thought of her moving on without you gnawed at you. you were proud of her, but it was bittersweet. “that sounds amazing, minji. i’m sure you’ll do great.”

for a moment, she looked at you, a flicker of something in her eyes. you couldn’t quite place it, but it made your chest tighten, as if she wanted to reach out but held back.

then, just as quickly, she looked away, her attention drawn to danielle talking about how her family needed her help with their farm and hanni mentioning the fishing company just on the outskirts of town.

“so…am i the only one leaving?” minji asked, a hint of surprise in her voice.

mina chuckled, shrugging. “yup. the rest of us are staying. small-town life isn’t so bad, right?”

“well, taehyung, sunoo — those football boys have big plans outside of rhodes too, so it’ll be alright, don’t worry about us,” danielle tried to cheer her up at the sight of her frown.

she smiled, but there was a sadness to it, like she was caught between wanting to stay and feeling like she had to go. you wished you could reach across the table and tell her it didn’t matter where she went — you’d always be there for her, but you stayed silent, not wanting to disrupt the delicate balance you both shared.

“what about you though, y/n?” hanni asked. “i thought i heard your pa mention you were probably moving to the city.”

you shook your head, gently throwing sticks at the fire. “i don’t think i’ve ever mentioned that to him - s’ppose he’s just assuming i’ll try for an apprenticeship somewhere.”

“you’re not?” minji’s frown deepened, but quickly tried to mask it with a joke. “i mean…you could try for seattle with me.”

“i like rhodes,” you muttered, refusing to look at her. “perhaps, one day, but i don’t see any reason to leave now.”

before the silence could settle too long, taehyung stumbled over, clearly tipsy, with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “alright, truth or dare time!” he slurred, eyes zeroing in on minji. “you in?”

minji, slightly emboldened by her drink, smirked. “dare. give me your best shot.”

minji, ever the bold one, smirked. “dare. bring it on.”

taehyung’s grin widened. “alright, i dare you to kiss my boy sunoo for five seconds!”

the table burst into laughter and shouts, some cheering her on while others shook their heads.

but you felt a strange pang in your chest, a mix of anxiety and dread as minji glanced in your direction. her eyes met yours, and you could see the hesitation there, the silent apology in the way she looked at you, as if she knew this would hurt. but then, with a resigned sigh, she turned and walked toward sunoo, accepting the dare.

you tried to steel yourself, focusing on anything but them, but it was impossible to ignore the crowd’s excited cheers, the way the laughter grew louder. you watched as she leaned in and kissed him by surprise, and in that moment, something between you broke.

“you alright?” jimin leaned over, his voice gentle amidst the noise. “you know she loves you, right?”

“i don’t know if i believe that,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended.

minji laughed with everyone else, her face flushed from the alcohol, the warmth of the fire flickering in her eyes. it was weird, seeing her like this — untouchable, almost a stranger.

after the dare, an uncomfortable tension clung to the air between you. every time you tried to meet her gaze, she looked away, hiding behind the laughter of her friends.

you wanted to let it go, to shrug it off as a stupid dare that didn’t mean anything, but the image of her kissing sunoo stuck in your mind like a thorn. it wasn’t the kiss itself; it was the way she’d looked at you right before she did it, like she knew exactly how much it would hurt.

she knew, and she’d done it anyway.

the whole night felt like it was slipping out of your control and you desperately tried to ignore minji. every glance from her felt sharper, colder, and when you caught her eye again, she just rolled her eyes and turned away, as if you were being unreasonable. the hurt started to twist into anger.

“hey y/n,” minji finally said, loud enough for the others to hear. “you look like you’re having a blast. didn’t know you were such a party animal.”

her words were laced with sarcasm, and a few people chuckled, though it felt forced.

“i’m just here for the company,” you replied, keeping your tone even - swallowing the retort that sat on the tip of your tongue. “some of it, at least.”

“really? why don’t you let loose and —“

“you don’t have to be like this, minji,” you cut her off, your voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t have to wear this mask all the time.”

“be like what?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow, her tone turning defensive. “it was just a kiss. you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend or something.”

the words landed like a slap. you clenched your fists, the anger simmering beneath the surface, but you refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing you lose control.

“you know what? forget it,” you muttered, standing up. “i don’t even know why i came here — have a good night everyone.” you turned to walk away, ignoring the glances and murmurs from your friends.

it was jimin who finally broke the silence after you left. “what’s going on between you two?”

danielle and hanni exchanged a look, each of them glancing toward minji, who suddenly looked uncomfortable, the smugness gone from her face. she shrugged, avoiding their gazes. “nothing’s going on. y/n’s just dramatic.”

they all saw through her, the way she fidgeted, the way her eyes darted toward the direction you’d gone, almost as if she were second-guessing herself.

“maybe you should apologise,” danielle suggested gently, nudging her. “it seemed like it really hurt her.”

“apologise for what?” minji shot back, but her voice had lost its edge. “it was just a stupid dare.”

“doesn’t seem like it was ‘just’ anything,” hanni said, her voice soft. “not to y/n, anyway.”

minji glanced down, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. she could feel their eyes on her, and for the first time that night, the laughter and noise of the party faded into the background, leaving her alone with the uncomfortable feeling she’d been trying to ignore.

the cool night air hit your face as you stepped away from the party, heading for the quiet of your truck. each step felt heavier, the hurt and anger swirling together.

you opened the door to your truck, about to climb inside, when you heard the crunch of footsteps behind you. you didn’t need to turn around to know it was her.

minji stood there in silence, her face partly shadowed, looking hesitant but unwilling to let you leave. she climbed into the passenger seat without a word.

the air in the truck was thick, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the silence between you. the moonlight filtered through the windows, casting a pale glow over minji’s profile as she sat with her arms crossed, her expression hard, lips pressed into a thin line.

she was angry, but so were you, though you could feel it simmering low, contained, refusing to boil over the way it wanted to.

the way you both wanted it to, maybe.

you kept your eyes on the road, jaw clenched, hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. in the corner of your eye, you saw her glance at you, her eyes narrowing when you didn’t turn to meet her gaze.

she shifted in her seat, her fingers drumming impatiently on her knee. “are you really not going to say anything?” her voice cut through the silence, sharp and demanding. it was more than a question — it was an accusation, as if your silence itself was a betrayal.

you felt her eyes on you, waiting for some kind of response, some kind of reaction. but you just kept driving, eyes fixed straight ahead, jaw set, trying to steady your breathing.

“what do you want me to say, minji?” you finally replied, voice low and steady, though you could feel the anger straining beneath the surface, threatening to spill over. you didn’t want to look at her, because you knew if you did, you wouldn’t be able to hold back.

she let out a scoff, shaking her head. “god, you’re so…frustrating. i kissed someone for a stupid dare and you’re acting like i did something terrible.”

you really tightened your grip on the wheel, knuckles turning white. “you knew what that would do to me,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper, the words laced with hurt you hadn’t meant to reveal. “you looked right at me and you did it anyway. in front of my friends.”

“it was just a kiss,” she snapped, her tone dismissive. “it didn’t mean anything.”

you swallowed, feeling the hurt settle heavy in your chest. “maybe it didn’t mean anything to you, but it sure as hell did to me,” you shook your head, finally allowing yourself to look at her, your gaze steady, unflinching. “i thought this meant something to you too. what we have, all of it.”

“don’t you dare put this on me,” she shot back, her voice growing louder, harsher. “you’re the one who can’t handle a party game.”

“this isn’t just about a party game, and you know it,” you said, voice barely controlled, trembling with the effort of holding back. “you hurt me. i know you’re scared, but you have nothing to prove to them. you don’t owe these folks anything —“

“yeah right,” she laughed bitterly, throwing her head back as she cut you off. “that’s what this is about. this stupid, small-minded town.” her voice dripped with disdain, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something cold and sharp in her eyes that you’d never seen before. “well, newsflash, y/n: maybe i’m tired of hiding. maybe i’m tired of sneaking around and pretending that this —”

“say it, minji,” you dared her when you see the hesitation in her eyes.

she gestured between the two of you, her expression hardened, “this isn’t what it really is.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, the sting of betrayal mingling with the anger that had been simmering all night. “and what exactly do you think this is?” you paused, looking over at her. “because from where i’m standing, it seems like you’ll forever be ashamed of me.”

she didn’t reply right away, and the silence that followed was heavy, oppressive. she looked away, out the window, her jaw clenched, lips pressed together as if she was holding back something sharp, something cruel.

when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, colder. “maybe it’s not you i’m ashamed of, but the fact that i have to pretend this is even a real thing.”

the words cut deep, slicing through the fragile hope you’d been clinging to. you took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, trying to keep the hurt from swallowing you whole.

“so that’s it then?” your voice broke slightly, but you forced yourself to keep going. “i’m just some…some phase for you? something to keep you entertained until you find someone who fits your perfect little picture?”

she let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “don’t twist this around. you’re the one who’s always so serious, who never lets anything slide. i mean, look at you,” she gestured towards you, her expression almost mocking. she was too intoxicated, letting words she’d been thinking all along out of her mouth. “acting like this whole thing is some grand romance when really, it’s just…it’s just something that happened. something that shouldn’t even be happening.”

you felt your heart shatter, the pain too real, too raw — you expected to hear it from other people, but not her.

“if that’s how you really feel, then why did you even start this with me?” you asked, defeated, eyes stinging as you fought to keep the tears from spilling over. “why make me think, no, why make me believe that maybe we could be something real? you made all these fucking plans with me!”

she looked away again, her gaze fixed on the passing landscape outside the window. “maybe i wanted to see what it felt like,” she said quietly, her tone devoid of warmth, of the softness that had once made you feel like you were the only person who mattered to her. “but i don’t think i can do this anymore. it’s…it’s too much.”

the words hung in the air, each one sinking into you like a weight, pulling you down into a well of hurt and betrayal. your breathing was shallow as you fought to keep yourself together.

“if it’s too much for you,” you said, your voice barely steady, “then maybe you should just get out of my fucking truck and out of my life.”

you didn’t mean for the words to come out so harshly, so final, but the pain was too much, too consuming to keep buried any longer as you stopped just outside of her house.

she looked at you, her eyes wide, almost shocked, as if she hadn’t expected you to push back. for a moment, she seemed lost for words, her lips parted slightly as she stared at you, something flickering in her stare that you couldn’t quite place as you pulled over two streets away from her house.

then, without another word, she reached for the door handle and climbed out, slamming the door shut behind her. you watched as she walked away, her silhouette disappearing into the night, the sound of her footsteps fading into the silence. the weight of her absence settled over you, a hollow ache filling the space where she’d been.

you stayed there for a long time, sitting alone in the truck, the emptiness swallowing you whole. you’d known, on some level, that it had always been fragile, that the love you’d built together was built on a foundation of secrecy and fear. but you’d hoped – god, you’d hoped that it could be something real.

that argument was the beginning of the end. there was no formal breakup, no final conversation. instead, there was silence – a painful, hollow quiet that replaced the laughter and stolen kisses. when you’d pass each other on the path or catch her gaze in class, all that remained was a shadow of what once was.

by the time graduation rolled around, minji was gone. she left town for college like she always said she would; moved away from the place that had both cradled and confined her.

life went on, as it always does. but some nights, when the world was quiet, you’d find yourself looking out at the road, half-expecting her to be there, waiting for you with that same, soft smile she’d given you all those years ago.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the familiar truck continued down the road, disappearing into the distance and you felt the weight of the moment settle over you like a heavy shroud. part of you had wondered, late at night when the world was quiet, what it would be like to see her again.

you’d imagined it in so many ways, but now that she was here, the reality felt more painful, like reopening a wound that had barely healed.

you nudged duke forward, resuming your path as if a brief glimpse of her hadn’t thrown your world off balance. you’d built a life here, a solid one filled with people you could count on and things you could control.

and minji, with her polished city clothes and her unfamiliar confidence, felt like a reminder of everything you’d once wanted to leave behind.

but you knew better. people left, that’s what they did, and you’d learned to carry on, even when it hurt. so you kept riding, eyes fixed on the road ahead as you turned towards home.

if only you could leave her memory behind.

it had taken years, but the garage was finally yours; a modest place, the kind that carried the scent of engine oil, worn leather and old, dusty tools handed down through generations. you’d started small, fixing up neighbours’ cars, trucks, the occasional tractor, and word had spread quickly in a town where people tended to hang on to things, even if they didn’t always work quite like they used to.

it wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but to you, it was everything — a place of your own, where you could pour yourself into work, let your hands keep busy and your mind focused on the quiet, familiar rhythm of repairing, restoring, and rebuilding.

it was a legacy, a continuation of the path your pa had set for you before he was gone.

after he passed, the garage became both a refuge and a reminder. he’d built this place from the ground up, had filled every corner with memories, with laughter, with the little lessons he’d taught you when you were still too small to hold a wrench properly.

now, it was yours alone, and that emptiness weighed on you like a shadow, even when you filled the space with the sound of clinking metal and the low hum of the radio.

some days, the silence grew too thick, too heavy to bear and that’s when you’d look up and find familiar faces showing up, as if they knew you needed them without you ever saying a word.

jimin was one of the first to start coming around. he was a friend who’d been there through it all, the good and the bad, someone you could count on without question. he’d always swing by after work, shrugging out of his jacket and rolling up his sleeves to lend a hand, his jokes filling the quiet spaces you couldn’t quite bring yourself to break. he was steady, like the tools on your workbench —reliable, unassuming, and never in a rush to leave, always lingering a little longer, making sure you were okay before he headed out.

then there was mina; popular and easygoing, but she’d stayed around town, unlike so many others. sometimes, she’d show up with a little bag of homemade pastries or the restaurant’s leftovers, claiming she had “extras” but always pressing them into your hands, eyes a little too soft, a little too knowing. she’d bring along her own car troubles too — things you suspected weren’t even that urgent — just so she’d have an excuse to hang around, helping with small tasks, keeping you company on those long, quiet afternoons.

danielle would come by, too, cheerful as ever, dropping off fresh fruits from her family’s farm. she’d place the basket down with a grin, insisting you take more than you needed, saying you had to stay healthy to keep the shop running. her laughter filled the garage, bringing a brightness that seemed to cut through the gloom. you’d find yourself laughing with her sometimes, even on the hardest days, grateful for her boundless energy, for the way she always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even if you didn’t say it.

hanni, haerin, and hyein were more like a trio of mischievous siblings (even though they were just neighbours), popping by whenever they felt like it, always claiming they were there to “help,” though you knew better. they’d come under the pretense of lending a hand, but more often than not, they’d be perched on your workbench or leaning against the open garage door, teasing you, nudging you to take breaks. hanni, would try to be serious, her sharp humor balancing out her kindness, while haerin would poke at your tools, asking questions about engines and oil, her curiosity both a help and a hindrance. hyein, the youngest, mostly just wanted to be around you all, wide-eyed and eager, trailing behind her older friends like a loyal shadow.

their visits had become a routine, a way to fill the space your pa had left behind, a way to keep you tethered to the world outside your own thoughts. they never mentioned minji or him. they’d remind you of simpler times, of the days when the garage was filled with laughter and your pa’s steady voice guiding you, his hand on your shoulder as you learned to tighten a bolt or change a tire.

you’d watch them joke and chatter, and for a moment, it was almost like he was still there, watching over you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was one of those clear evenings, the kind that settled in with a comfortable chill once the sun dropped behind the hills. the fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering glow across the room, and the soft murmur of voices filled the cozy space.

you’d gathered everyone for dinner, an impromptu plan that had somehow grown into a tradition — a way to fill the quiet of your home, the emptiness that seemed to linger ever since.

mina, jimin, danielle, haerin, and hyein had all shown up with bottles of wine, dishes wrapped in foil, and enough energy to keep the house feeling alive. you’d done your best to clear off the table, moving aside spare bolts and tools, making room for the laughter and conversation that had been sorely missed.

the smell of dinner mingled with the wood smoke from the fire, filling the house with an almost nostalgic warmth.

as the night wore on, the conversation turned, naturally, to the topic you’d been bracing yourself for — minji.

“weren’t you ladies with her at murphy’s the other night?” mina said, glancing around the room, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “she looked, different. polished, but, like…still minji.”

murphy’s. after your pa passed, you hadn’t found the heart to go back. the place had started to feel hollow, too full of memories that were just a little too close, a little too painful to face.

danielle chimed in, nodding eagerly. “yeah, she looked good. better than good, honestly.” her voice took on a slightly teasing tone as she gave you a sidelong look, as if waiting for a reaction.

you stayed quiet, watching the flames dance, their glow reflecting off the glasses set on the table. you could feel the weight of their gazes, the unspoken curiosity hanging in the air.

then all knew — everyone in town had known, even if it wasn’t spoken out loud, and with minji back, those old stories were beginning to stir up again.

“she’s a top lawyer now,” hanni added, swirling her drink thoughtfully. “one of the best in the country, from what i hear. apparently, she’s only here for the summer, staying to help her dad with the estate and everything.”

jimin leaned back, eyebrows raised. “top lawyer, huh? guess that makes sense.”

“yeah, remember her talking about all the things she wanted to do?” haerin said, her voice wistful. “back in high school, she used to say she wanted to change the world or something like that. and now look at her.”

there was a murmur of agreement, a mix of pride and wonder in the air, as if everyone in that room felt a little piece of ownership over her success.

a part of you couldn’t help but remember those late-night talks, the quiet moments when she’d let her guard down, telling you about the things she wanted, the dreams she couldn’t quite share with anyone else. she’d always had that fire, that need to be something bigger, to leave her mark on the world.

“i’m proud of her,” you smiled, although bittersweet. “but she didn’t have to what she did.”

they all fell silent for a moment, their glances shifting to you, sensing something unspoken in the air. you could tell they wanted to ask, to know what it felt like for you to see her again after all these years. no one said it out loud, respecting the quiet way you kept yourself guarded, the way you stayed just a little apart from the conversation, even as you listened intently.

“it’s weird,” danielle said softly, her gaze warm as it lingered on you. “her coming back, i mean. like we’re all sort of older, different, but somehow still stuck here.”

“speak for yourself,” jimin grinned, nudging her with his elbow. “i’m thriving, thank you very much.”

they laughed, breaking the tension, and you managed a small smile, grateful for the ease they brought into the room, for the way they tried to keep things light, even if the weight of the past lingered in the spaces between the words.

as the conversation shifted to other things; haerin’s new job, hyein’s plans to travel, jimin’s latest attempt at dating — you found yourself half-listening, lost in the memories that had resurfaced with minji’s return.

they stayed late, laughter and soft conversation filled the room, each of them lingering, as if they knew you needed them there. and when the night finally wound to a close, when the last bottle was empty and the plates were cleared, you found yourself alone again, silence settling over the house like a familiar weight.

this time, it felt like something had been stirred, like minji’s presence had reignited a part of you you’d tried so hard to bury. and as you sat there, watching the dying embers glow faintly in the hearth, you couldn’t help but wonder if some part of you had been waiting for this moment all along.

the living room was dimly lit, you sat there, nursing a bottle of whiskey, lost in thoughts that never seemed to find closure. the ache of loss hung in the air, mingling with the scent of wood smoke and worn leather from the couch.

the shadows from the dying fire flickered against the walls, casting a warm, ghostly glow over the photos of you and your pa. your gaze lingered on one picture — faded, creased at the edges — of you both standing by his 88’ ford, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, his face lit up in a laugh. it felt like a lifetime ago.

outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows slightly; a soft reminder of just how quiet and isolated your life had become.

the knock at the door was gentle, uncertain, as if the person on the other side was almost afraid to disturb you. you exhaled slowly, pulling yourself up and crossing the room to answer it — half hoping it wasn’t a neighbour or even an old friend needing a favour.

what you weren’t prepared for was seeing minji stand there, eyes glistening with unshed tears, her expression raw and vulnerable in a way that took you back to simpler days.

“hey,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice breaking the silence. “can i come in?”

you held her gaze for a long moment, your heart warring with itself. part of you wanted to shut the door, to protect yourself from whatever mess might follow. the other part, softer and rooted in all the kindness he had taught you, couldn’t do that.

stepping aside to let her in, you nodded, even though every nerve felt on edge.

the silence settled thickly between you both as she took in the room, eyes skimming over the quiet remnants of the life you’d built after she left. she glanced at the half-empty bottle of whiskey, then at the photos on the wall.

“i’m so sorry,” she said, looking down at her feet, as if the weight of the words was too heavy for her to meet your gaze. “no one told me…about your pa. i didn’t know.”

the pain in her voice was real, but you couldn’t let yourself soften just yet. you crossed your arms over your chest, glancing away, feeling the familiar sting in your throat.

“he was here one day, gone the next,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper. “he’d been fine. we were working together in the shop, laughing over something stupid, and then…then he was gone.”

the ache in your chest sharpened as you spoke, the whiskey doing little to dull the edges of grief. “i try to tell myself that maybe he’s with ma now. that they’re together, wherever they are — it’s the only thing that gives me any kind of peace these days.”

her shoulders sagged as if the weight of your words had settled on her too. she looked up at you, eyes shimmering with tears that she made no attempt to hide. “i’m so, so sorry, y/n,” she repeated, voice breaking. “i should’ve been here. i should’ve known, or at least tried to be there for you somehow.”

you held her gaze, fighting the urge to reach out, to pull her into a hug the way you would’ve years ago, but space between you too had grown wider over time.

“it’s a little late for that,” you murmured, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “you left me without a word, told me what we had was a phase.”

she winced, nodding slowly, accepting the hurt behind your words. “you’re right,” she said softly. “leaving you was the hardest thing i ever did and i wish i could take back every hurtful thing i said that.”

“seemed pretty easy,” you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. “leaving me behind and all that.”

she shook her head, biting her lip as fresh tears welled in her eyes. “it wasn’t easy, y/n. it tore me up but i thought you’d be better off without me after everything i put you through.”

you looked at her, and for a moment, the memories of all those nights you’d spent together, sneaking around the town, feeling like the only two people in the world, flashed through your mind.

“i did love you, minji,” you said finally, each word coming out slow, deliberate. “and for a long time, i thought that was enough. people change. things change. that phase of my life…it’s over now.”

the words seemed to hit her like a physical blow. she looked down, a shaky breath escaping her as she tried to keep her composure.

“i know,” she whispered. “i guess i just…just wanted you to know how sorry i am. for everything. for leaving, for not coming back sooner, for being too afraid to face everything i left behind.”

you nodded, feeling the weight of her words but knowing there was no going back, no undoing the years you’d both lived without each other. “thanks for saying that,” you murmured. “it doesn’t change things, but…it helps.”

she nodded, feeling defeated. “thank you for hearing me out - i know you didn’t have to.

you nodded, offering her a faint, bittersweet smile. “it’s what the old man would have wanted. he always had a soft spot for you.”

a sad smile crossed her lips, and she looked down, the weight of lost time pressing heavily between you both. she reached out, hesitated, then withdrew her hand, knowing there was nothing left to be said.

you walked her towards the porch, the silence between you now comfortable in its own way, a quiet kind of closure. as she turned to leave, she glanced back one last time, her eyes lingering on you with an expression that seemed to carry all the regret and love of years past.

as the door closed behind her, you exhaled, feeling the finality of it all. you knew that, somehow, you’d finally let her go.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

#kpop x reader #new jeans x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #minji x reader #newjeans minji #minji imagines #angst

194 notes · View notes

surielstea · 2 days ago

Text

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb @lorosette @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tothestarsandwhateverend @ahaha0246 @mellowmusings @mythicalcookie

202 notes · View notes