#I lost count how many times I am reuploading this

[ayaraki]

[chalametsimp]

Maybe I don’t hate you 18+

**reupload because I’ve been gone so long I f*cked up the tags last time**

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: You and Regulus have never gotten along, but this time he really pissed you off.

Word Count: 3.9k

Authors Note: I haven’t proofread this yet, i’m sorry this took so long. i love you guys. I hope this doesn’t feel rushed, I worked really hard on it. If there are errors or inconsistencies pls feel free to reach out. I know I haven’t added taglist yet i am sorry i will soon !

Warnings: unprotected sex, hate-fuck, enemies to lovers, not proofread , cheerleader and athlete trope

masterlist

taglist: @misswestfall @chal-latte @timmymyluv @haylee-e -e @timotheel0ver @dayafied @softhecreator

Your heart was frozen in your chest, your breath was stuck in your throat. You could hardly hear anything due to the screams of quidditch fans. You knew it didn’t matter, no words were shared, but you had a persistent, primal need to hear the sound of his heartbeat as he gazed back at you, eyes supercilious. You wished they would just shut up, even for one second. The thought of wanting to hear it was something you didn’t understand. You hate him, and he hates you. You felt your cheeks heat up and you almost lost your footing. If it could be considered footing when you have other squad members holding the bottoms of your shoe. A mistake could be big time and could send you tumbling to the grass below. You both knew this. He smirked, a very sly at that, as he watched you fluster and almost fall, all because of him. Almost was the keyword. You quickly averted your gaze from him to anything else. Your eyes landed on the crowd and you smiled wide, continuing as if he weren’t even there. As you were being brought down, he flew from where he was positioned almost in your line of vision, nearly 50 feet away. Cheeky bastard. Had he wanted to rile you up just to watch you falter? No, the truth was that he just loved the way you looked when you got mad at him. He loved and hated the way his heart would clench in his chest when you furrowed your eyebrows and your nose crinkled just enough to be the most adorable sight in the entire world. You made him feel so many things, and they made him uncomfortable. So his whole life he tried his best to silently compete with you and make you angry, pushing you away from him. He wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to handle those feelings.

You continued the rest of the game, doing your best to avoid looking at him. You did really well, you managed to not even peek at him once. Usually, you couldn’t help yourself and you would occasionally sneak glances at him. You could sometimes admit that you thought he was handsome. You usually just pushed them down, because you knew it was a lost cause. You figured he hated you just as much as you hate him.

This time you were very upset with him. Occasionally sabotaging you in potions and being a general ass was one thing, but distracting you while you were up in the air like that? That was a new low. He did feel bad about that, he hadn’t meant to make you mess up. Regulus didn’t think he would be that distracting.

It was more than apparent that you were mad at him. You didn’t look at him once, not even while you were on your way to the locker room when the game was finished. Slytherin won, so you didn’t want to see the cocky look on his face. You might have thrown a pom in his face if he had gotten close to you. So you chose simply not to look at him. It was better for everyone that way. You tried to forget his existence completely and you did a pretty good job at it. You took your time getting ready to leave, trying to avoid him altogether. Well, at least until you were forced to see him in class. By then you would probably have calmed down enough not to react.

You weren’t really paying attention to the conversations in the locker room but you tried your best to seem like you were actively engaging in the team gossip. Nodding your head here, throwing in an “mhm” there. You swiped a makeup-removing wipe across your cheek absentmindedly. Sure there were spells for that, but sometimes it’s fun to do girly things just because. It was one of the things about you that actually irritated Regulus. The muggle things, the muggle practices. What was so wrong with just using magic? That’s what his family always did. Worked out fine for them.

Pulling out your pony holder, your attention was brought back to the conversation when it was directed toward you. “Huh?” You questioned, “Sorry, I was distracted by my thoughts.”

One of your teammates piped up “Yeah, distracted by thoughts of Regulus, why don’t you two just fuck already? It’s pretty obvious there’s some heavy sexual tension happening there.” She could barely get the sentence out before she was laughing and the whole group was erupting into a fit of giggles. Immediately you felt your cheeks heat up and hid your face in your hands, waving the wipe like a white flag. This made everyone laugh even harder, you’d hoped that would satisfy them and they would move on to something else.

“So you agree?” The girl who was your base spoke up. “It would probably be safer for you and everyone else, considering what happened tonight.” More giggles.

You winced and your eyes fluttered away from everyone’s eyes, to now look at the wall. Your hands came down to your lap and you fidgeted with them nervously. Because you knew they were right but you couldn’t admit that to them. Or to yourself. “That was by pure accident!” You stammered, “Besides, I would never fuck him. He might be cute. But we hate each other. Not happening.”

“Hate each other.” Another girl said, using air quotes.

“Never gonna happen.” You replied, finally, trying to end the conversation. It seemed to suffice until someone had something else to go on about.

You didn’t bother to change out of your uniform, you would be taking it off to take a shower when you got to the dormitory anyways. However, it was turning into a brisk night so you decided to throw on a sweater. You waited until it had been a good few minutes since the last footsteps you heard out in the corridor. You couldn’t leave when all the other girl’s left. If they had seen you and Regulus in the same room it was sure to be mortifying. Finally, you held your breath and stepped through the threshold, trying to make your way to the dormitories.

You didn’t make it far before you heard an all too familiar voice. One that made you huff and clutch onto your bag in anger, knuckles almost turning white. “You were secretly hoping that I would be out here, that’s why you kept the skirt on, huh?” The sound came from behind you but you didn’t want to turn to face him. He didn’t mean to say something so smug but he didn’t know how to convey many other feelings to you.

“I don’t wish to speak with you right now, Black. Please just leave me alone.” Annoyance rang deep in your voice, your hand swatting towards him without even looking. Almost as if to shoo him away like a bothersome animal. He grimaced and the tips of his ears grew pink with shame. Then you did something that surely vexed him, you just kept walking. His brows furrowed like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum and he took a step forward to follow you, his voice trailing behind his movements.

Words you had never heard from him. Not spoken to you. Not spoken to anyone else. “I’m sorry.” The two words alone stopped your feet in their tracks and your breath in your throat. It wasn’t enough to make you turn around but now he had your attention. What was he going to do with it? You waited for him to follow that up with something, anything. For a while, he didn’t. Regulus himself was frozen with surprise at his own words. “I’m sorry,” he repeated “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get hurt, I don’t know why I do the things I do sometimes. I didn’t mean for t-that to happen.” For the first time in his life, he was tripping over his own tongue. Was it a ruse? Was he just making fun? Waiting for you to say something embarrassing? You had to know for sure. Expecting to see a smirk, or for him to burst out into a fit of laughter. Neither of those things happened. You rolled your eyes at him, hands clenched together tightly and you all at once turned to face him, sneering, anger still in your voice. “We all know that’s bullshit! You did mean for that to happen, you jerk!” You swallowed hard and your lips pursed together as you tried to think of what to say. But before you could say anything, he was speaking up for you. His gaze was downturned and his expression was tense. Tense like his hands that were held together tightly.

Regulus’ voice nearly shook with anger “Actually I didn’t mean for that to happen, but now I am NOT sorry!” His eyes rose to shoot you an icy glare “You can’t say I didn’t try. I was sorry, but you don’t care, so now I’m not sorry! I wish you had fallen!” His words were venom and his jaw was clenched tightly.

Tears welled up in your eyes and you sneered at him “You were never sorry asshole!” Finally, you had the courage to take a couple of steps closer to him and bit the inside of your cheek in a futile attempt to stop the words that were rising in your throat like sick “Fuck you!” You punctated the insult with a sharp poke to his chest.

He promptly shoved your hand away from him and took a step closer to you. “You know what?” Veins in his temples pulsated with anger “Fuck you too!”

You were almost shaking with anger, you averted your eyes to your feet that were almost touching his and then back to his face. “No, Regulus, fuck you!”

“Actually,” he started with bared teeth and a glance sideways before he took yet another step closer to you, forcing you to back up to avoid crashing into each other. Your head cocked to the side in confusion before he continued, forcing you to back up even more. When your back hit the stone wall he continued, “Fuck you.” His voice was quieter now but the tone of his voice was nearly the same. However it didn’t reach his eyes, they were filled with something else now. Something that you had never seen inside of him. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was right away. At first you refused to believe that it was lust that you had seen flashed in his eyes. You were shocked that he had pushed himself this close to you and for once you couldn’t think of what to say to him at all. It didn’t seem to be a problem to him. In fact, he relished in the fact that he had pulled all of the words out of your throat before you could even think of them. “Hm,” Regulus taunted, his expression changing from petulance to something completely different. “You seem to be pretty quiet now.” He teased.

You had never seen him like this before. Eyes wide, you tried to speak, “I-I.. W..” Your words were cut off by your own confusion.

“What?” He snickered, head held high as he traced a finger down your jawline, “Cat got your tongue?” A gasp was the only thing that could leave your lips and your eyes were wide as the moon. What was he trying to do?

In a sudden moment of irritation and bravery, you decided you weren’t going to let him have the upper hand. He didn’t get to have the slick last word. Not this time. “Just shut up, Black.” You didn’t even allow him the opportunity to get another word in because before he could even open his pretty mouth you were shoving yours against it. It didn’t seem to be a problem to him because immediately his hands were cupping your cheeks and his body was pressing against yours. You could feel every curve of the stones behind you but you didn’t care, all you cared about was slipping your tongue into his warm mouth. The action elicited a sigh from his lips directly into your mouth and you loved the sensation, your hips bucked upwards against his. His thumb brushed against your cheek in a soothing motion, goosebumps rising on your shoulders. Soon he was fighting your tongue back into your mouth and you allowed him to, making him think he was in total control. An illusion you would keep in your back pocket for later when you needed it more. His tongue grazed against yours and you reached for his robe, silk soft like butter in your fingers. Regulus pulled away after what felt like a lifetime had passed. He didn’t move far from you, his lips routing from yours to just next to them, then to your jaw. Languidly, he continued his journey, pressing wet kisses down your neck until he hit your collarbone. Where he settled, tongue circling the spot he had chosen for purchase. He suckled on the soft skin until a bruise had formed in succession of his efforts, his hands treading down to pop the button of his slacks and let them fall to the ground. You mewled quietly and he dared to allow his fingers to slip underneath your skirt to rub against you, fabric rubbing against your clit deliciously. You rutted your hips against his fingers, urging him silently for more. Regulus picked up on this and slid his fingers in past your panties and circled a finger around your entrance. “Tsk, so wet. For me?” He gloated, slowly pushing his middle finger inside of you. He pumped it gentle and slow at first, curling his finger right where you needed him. Soon enough you were putty in his hands, writhing and whining for more. Regulus obliged and slid another one inside of you, gauging your reaction with half lidded, lust filled eyes. Listening to the noises you made was enough to make him go feral but he did his best to restrain himself.

“Please, Reggie, Please.” You pleaded, tears of distress in your eyes, clutching his perfectly pristine robe in tight, desperate fists.

“Would you look at that?” He teased, roughly turning you around to face the wall, giving you just enough time to grab onto it before he hastily pushed your robe up your back. His lips pressed against the soft spot on your neck behind your ear, “Begging for me. How cute. Is this what you want?” Regulus cooed, leaning forward to press a kiss to your shoulder before he was shoving your panties down your thighs. You watched them cascade downwards to your ankles and the sight made you shiver.

You didn’t want to answer, you didn’t want him to win, but it’s what you had to do if you wanted this. You wanted him so bad, but this would be silent admittance of where your hatred really stemmed from. Regulus figured he would help you decide your next choice of words by pulling out his arousal that was flushed and achingly stiff. He shifted your panties to the side and rubbed the tip against your wet heat. He stroked it up and down against you, merely coating the swollen skin. You responded just how he wanted you to, rubbing your hips back against him. Finally, you answered him, the final go-ahead. “Yes,” You pressed further “I want you. Please give it t-” Your voice feverish.

He didn’t need any other confirmation besides that and he gave you no time to finish your sentence before he was sinking himself into you, ripping the words right out of your chest. He was promptly moving at a desirable pace. You were happy to vocalize this to him in every way besides using your words. Gasps and whimpers ruptured from your lips, one strung after the other in a waterfall of pleasure. “You feel incredible.” He thrust into your core, head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. His fingers wandered from your thigh to your honeypot, gliding over the most sensitive area. Small circles sent your eyes rolling backward for a moment.

His hips never ceased, his length plunging into you at a reckless pace. He moved his fingers from your clit to hold your hips back against his, moving deeper inside of you than before. Lascivious moans filled the hall but neither of you cared. Regulus’ freehand came up to tangle in your hair, he grabbed a fistful at the base of your head and pulled gently at first to test the waters. Your heat constricted tightly around him involuntarily at the feeling of his rough hands gripping your hair and he grunted coarsely, slowing down for just a moment. “Careful, careful. You’re going to make me cum if you keep that up.” His voice was rough and needy. You attempted to relax but it was difficult even when his thrusts were slow and gentle. He kept the same steady pace for what felt like a long time. You were desperate for him to speed up so you pushed back against him, quickly moving your hips, hoping he would get the hint. And he did.

Soon he was plunging into you urgently. You attempted to grasp at the wall, at anything you could, to stabilize yourself so you didn’t collapse onto the ground. The pleasure was so much you could barely even stand on your own two feet anymore. He tried the best he could to help you keep upright, his nails digging into your flesh. The sting of pain was a perfect mix, intoxicating all of your senses. Nearly drooling as saliva pooled in your mouth. You pushed back against him demandingly, meeting his hips every time. The thought of the two of you intwined perfectly in this dark hallway sent a shiver down his spine. Regulus’ fingers trailed from your hips, up to your neck where he gently grabbed hold of your throat, pulling you back, flush against his torso. He gripped gently, where he knew not to hurt you. Choked mewls escaped you and he grunted deeply, eyes closed tightly as he continued to ravage you, lips pressed to your neck.

The sounds and heat of his ragged breath in your ear made your arousal grow so far until you were nearly ready to pop, you clenched around him tightly, almost at the edge. “Please, I can’t hold on any longer, Reggie.” He smirked proudly and grasped your neck harder, his pace increasing.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” he whispered “Cum for me.”

That’s all it took for the precipice to break and you were cumming hard, your hips trembling as he never slowed down. You went to cry out but Regulus quickly pushed his hand against your lips, muffling your sweet noises. Tears started to bubble from your eyes and streak down his fingers as he fucked you relentlessly.

He wouldn’t last long with the way you gripped around him. You once again tried to hold yourself back against the wall as his thrusts became sloppier. Idly, your rocked your hips against his.

“Fuck, I can’t.” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. Regulus’ hips stirred finally and he came with a long and low whine that reverberated through your chest, all the way down to your uncurling toes. For a while neither of you spoke, he simply rested his head against your back. His chest rising and falling quickly, trying to regain his normal breathing.

“Why give yourself to me?” He finally asked, voice still shaky and low. His fingers caressed your thigh and in one motion he swiped your panties back in an attempt to cover you up. You turned to face the Slytherin boy. His face perplexed, hand moving to rub the back of his neck absentmindedly.

“Don’t you see?” You rolled your eyes, and for the first time it was accompanied by a warm smile. You hit him playfully in the chest. “It was always going to be you., I think. Everyone says so. ” His head cocked to the side.

Something interrupted your juncture and your movements stilled. “Who’s over there?” The voice bellowed and your eyes widened in sync, cheeks flushing as you stared at each other in exasperation. You didn’t realize how close it was until the sound of footsteps followed, and not far. A sudden realization hit the both of you and you were scrambling to make yourselves decent. Regulus rushed to pull his pants up from his ankles, fingers fumbling to re-button.

“What are we gonna do? You whispered frantically, adjusting your skirt. Your eyebrows were furrowed nervously and you looked to him for a solution. A strange turn of events that you didn’t see happening when the day had started.

“There’s nothing we can do. We have to make a run for it.” He laughed and tugged on your hand, starting to pull you through the corridor. Your legs were shaky but it was easier when he was guiding your steps. You could hear the shouts of who you can only assume is your potions professor, based on the sound.

“I hear you two, get back here!” The voice yelled but you ignored them. You ran off into the night together. Your feet pounded on the pavement, hearts beating fast in your chests. You were both such good students, it wouldn’t be a good look for the two of you to be caught like that.

It was impossibly dark except for the dim lights in the halls, you’re not sure if you would have made it that quick without him. You made it back to the dormitories and Regulus walked you to your door, like a gentleman. You wanted to have him come spend the night with you, but you hesitated. You would never hear the end of it if anyone saw the two of you together. Especially at this time of night. You reached for the door handle but stopped before your fingertips reached it. You turned to face him. Your cheeks heated up and you looked to him, then to the floor, to him, to the wall, to him awkwardly.

“Regul-”

As much as he loved to hear the sound of his name coming from your mouth, he cut you off before you could finish. “Listen, I’m sorry. I really am.” He said quietly “The only lie I told was that I wish you had fallen. I don’t really think that.” He looked really remorseful. His chin trembled lightly and he turned his head downwards, ashamed.

You reached forward and took one of his hands in yours, smiling softly. “It’s okay. I know you’re sorry. I forgive you, really.”

This seemed to appease him and he was looking back up again, tears in the brims of his eyes. “Really? You mean that?” His voice was hopeful like a child.

“Yes, I mean that.” You started “But now that I’m thinking about it, maybe dinner would help.” A smirk rose on your lips and he grinned, nodding wildly.

“Okay. Like a date?” Regulus questioned. Footsteps approached in the background.

“Yes,” You said hurriedly, “Like a date, now go.” You urged him to leave, so he wouldn’t get in trouble. He stepped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before leaving without a word.

Quickly, you entered into your dorm room and you immediately had eyes on you. The room erupted into whistles and laughter. You didn’t understand until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror hoisted in the living space. Your hair looked wild, it definitely gave away what you were just up to.

“Oh! I so knew it! How was it?” Someone asked loudly. You just ignored them all and gave a big middle finger as you disappeared into your own room, one arm holding your robe closed tightly. No way they were going to catch sight of what was trickling down your thighs.

[everywebkin]

faq

tldr: eric, 18, he/him, i use paint pens to draw, reuploads ok with credit

how can i use your art?: tumblr profile pictures and headers are okay without credit. on a different website, please link back to here. edits are okay (like im ok with editing out a bi flag to replace it with a trans flag or country flag. reposting (downloading my art and posting it to another website) is okay with credit linking back to this blog (if it's on instagram or toyhouse, then please tag it with @esotericprince )

what do i use to draw: i use posca and artistro paint pens. i take a photo of my work (no fancy scanner yet </3) and digitally touch it up in medibang paint. (to erase pencil marks and smudges mostly. i'll also colour correct a little) i made a tutorial on my process as apart of a school project, so i'll link it here when i eventually post it :) )

whats my motivation... why did i start this blog: this blog is my thesis project for 3 different classes now. it started as a way to get extra credit in my digital media course, and now my teacher is letting it count as extra credit in my art courses. I almost only draw webkinz during class. my other main motivation is autism <3

what other blogs/sites do i like: i'm a big fan of @kinzvestigation 's work :) go check them out. @mspaintdex and webkinz bot inspired me to start. webkinz guide has been a great help in researching.

how do i decide what webkinz to draw: when not going off requests, i'm going in chronological order. i'll be skipping out on virtual only pets, lil kinz (if they have a normal version), and signatures for now. feel free to send in your request multiple times if you think it got lost in tumblr's shitty code.

whats the accuracy on the release dates: take every release date with a grain of salt! both the official kinzapedia and unofficial fandom website have unreliable and unsourced information) if anyone has a better source on release dates feel free to dm or send an ask

who am i...: i'm eric :) i'm 18, have been playing webkinz and collecting plushes as long as i can remember. i'm canadian (am in driving distance of webkinz hq.....) and in grade 13. i'm going to university for cognitive science. you can see my nonwebkinz art here. i also infrequently post cosplay and art to my instagram. outside of art, i'm a big fan of pirating games on my 3ds, watching wayneradiotv and jerma streams, and thrifting for webkinz.

what webkinz do i have !: far too many to list! i have about 25 plushies right now. i got back into collecting this year (they took my childhood webkinz in The Divorce) my only surviving childhood webkinz is my profile picture :) a whimsy dragon named sparky.

[cappurrccino]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks @captaincravatthecapricious for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

80, apparently!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 

234,199

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

Currently not really any because my muse fuckin packed her bags and took a vacation, but Malevolent, Halo, and Destiny are the big ones. I'd like to do more for Warframe and FFXIV, though!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

strange domains (TMA/Malevolent)

It's Called Supervising (Destiny... the power of putting Cayde-6 in your fic, I swear)

once in a movie night (Malevolent)

where you go, i go (TMA/WTNV)

Treason (Hollow Knight/Destiny AU)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I'm trying to be better about it! A lot of the time, though, I simply don't know what to say and fall into the "how do I respond to birthday wishes" trap because writing "Thanks!" a bunch feels disingenuous even though I am thankful and glad someone liked the fic enough to comment

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 

Ptttthhhbbbbbbbb, probably the one where Bornstellar finds his family all floodified on the Halo Chakas & Riser got marooned on in Primordium

(I have not reread this fic in ages bc I remember not being super happy with how it was written and don't want to see I published a disaster lol)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

Oh, so many of them. Happy fluffy nonsense is my wheelhouse. If I have to pick one, though, maybe day 7: we fucking did it just because I don't think any other characters have Gone Through It as much as John & Arthur have, so they would get the most joy from a lazy day at the river

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Nah

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

Absolutely not lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do! If we take "craziest" to mean "silliest" probably the Destiny/WTNV crossover thing I flirted with for a while in 2016 (old woman Josie lives in the desert with a house full of taken)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Again, not to my knowledge

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

@warlordfelwinter and I were writing a novelized version of a D&D campaign we were in, by which I mean Fel did the bulk of the writing and I filled in the Alexa-specific parts!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? 

Bornstellar/Splendid Dust! My boys! My beloveds! I'm pspsps-ing people into this sandbox with me because right now there are 4 fics for them on AO3 and they're all mine

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? 

Any of them 😭

16. What are your writing strengths? 

Dumb shit. But I like to think I'm also good at writing weird stuff (I also just have a lot of fun writing weird stuff, like Fundament and the Dark World)

17. What are your writing weaknesses? 

Plots.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

I wouldn't dare unless I was fluent, which will basically never happen...

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

Transformers, baybee! I think at this point I've lost all of my TF fic from my ff.net days due to time and computer moves, which is a real shame, because I wrote a TF/ST crossover centered on tribbles once that I remember being one of the best things I've ever written... Maybe if I'm lucky it's on one of my old external drives and I can reupload it... 🤔

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

The hardest question in the world... hmm... maybe wait through the night for the dawn light to break just because it's the longest thing I've done and the MalevBB experience was so fun... but I also really like Siren's Eye bc Fundament and Osmium sibs and my funky little sea-runners, and I also really like Corpus Siege just bc it was so fun to write, and I also like— [is dragged off stage by a comically large shepherd's hook]

[yelling from the wings] also that Halo AU I had where I gave people metahuman powers! thank you and goodnight!

Tagging:

@warlordfelwinter, @xivu-arath, @wonderwafles, @titan-mom (no pressure, of course!)

[ace-writes-stuff]

Those Good Days Passed

| Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader |

A/N: This is a reupload! I made a new writing blog to clean some stuff up! Previously known as @eddie-is-baby. I made this new main blog so I can start doing things like taglists & masterlists since they’ve been requested! Thank you for your support and patience! ☺️

This is a completely self-indulgent piece of writing. Odds are this will never see the light of day, but on the off chance I pull some courage out of my ass and post this bad boy, I am sorry. In an effort to put a metaphorical Band-Aid over my heart, I have decided to write my first multichapter fic throwing Eddie into the events of season three and fixing his completely unnecessary death scene. That is all :)

Summary: After years of being away from Hawkins, you're finally able to come down for a visit again. You’ve got a cabin, a ride, and a loving cousin to keep you company. The only problem is- you need a job, and it just so happens that a certain metal-head is looking for a new coworker. 

Contents & Warnings: Fem!Reader, Reader is over 18, Multichapter Fic, Reader rides a motorcycle

Word Count: 4k

Chapter One - Cabin in the Woods

Your fingers were starting to go numb from how long you had been gripping the steering wheel. The drive from Hawkins hadn’t been an easy one. In fact, it had taken several hours to get anywhere near the damn place. In that time, you had been cut off twice, flipped off three times, and at one point, you even had to pull over to fix a blown tire… Overall, the trip could have gone better, but your journey was finally coming to an end.

As the scenery changed from seemingly never-ending monotonous highways to a sweet little townscape, you couldn’t help but sink down in your seat. This isn’t the first time you had been to Hawkins. Oh no. You had visited your aunt and little cousin many times throughout your childhood. Fourth of July, Christmas, Thanksgiving, all the big ones but as the years passed, the drive seemed to get longer and longer, and your parents just couldn’t spare the time to make the trip out anymore. However, now that you were older and your uncle conveniently needed someone to housesit his cabin, they finally agreed to let you visit for the summer.

Dustin, of course, had been ecstatic to hear about your extended stay, mainly because, in his own words, “it would give him and his party a new base of operations.” Whatever that meant. Despite your younger cousin's strange ideas of what house sitting meant, you were still excited to visit. It had been a while since you had last seen him, and if last year’s Christmas card was anything to go off of, the kid had really grown up. 

The only things you were genuinely concerned about were one, becoming a babysitter for the summer, and two, finding a good enough job that you wouldn’t have to worry about babysitting duties. Aunt Claudia had mentioned something about a new mall opening up, so you had written up a few resumes before making the drive. Hopefully, whatever little shop decided to take you in wasn’t too mentally taxing, but you figured any mall job would work out just fine. 

When the crunch of gravel under your truck's tires grew heavier and the bumps in the little dirt driveway became more frequent, you knew you had made it. However, just in case there was any doubt at all, Dustin was sitting there on the front few steps of the patio to welcome you into town. He was smiling, but his teeth were missing again! You could have sworn he had gotten dentures at some point, but maybe you were wrong? It was either that, or he had lost them, which seemed unusual for him. Perhaps there was some other reason? 

You didn't have much time to think about it though because almost as soon as you had shifted into park, your favorite curly-haired cousin was swinging open the car door and pulling you into a hug.

“Dustin! C’mon, man. I still have my seatbelt on!” You laughed, hugging him back as you tried to wiggle your arms free enough to unbuckle yourself. Yup, he had certainly grown! He was practically twice as tall as he had been during your last visit and about three times as strong.

“This is what you get for taking so long to come back,” he argued playfully before finally stepping away to let you stretch your legs from the long drive. 

The sentiment was enough to pull a smile onto your face as you hopped out of the truck. Your legs felt a bit like jelly, but you recovered quickly. You had a lot of unpacking to do afterall, and it had to be mostly done by five o’clock. The mall closed at nine, and you wanted at least a few hours to pass around some resumes. Maybe if you were lucky and some place was really short-staffed, they’d let you start within the next few days. Wouldn’t that be nice? However, right now, you needed to get all of your junk out of the truck and unload your bike. 

“You gonna help me unload, or are you just going to keep giving me shit for being gone for the past few years?” You teased right back, giving him a light push on the shoulder before swinging the back hatch of the truckbed open. 

You may have overpacked a little bit. Bringing your Suzuki was definitely an interesting choice given the fact that you already had the truck with you, but you just couldn’t justify leaving her behind! Plus, Dustin had mentioned wanting to take her for a spin, and you couldn’t just leave the poor guy hanging, even if it meant being scolded by your aunt for letting her “sweet little Dusty on that death machine.” 

It took about an hour to get everything out and into the cabin. Clothes, cassettes, gear- everything a girl could need to survive a couple of months in Hawkins. However, just as you finished unpacking the last box of your various things you simply couldn’t live without, Dustin dramatically threw himself on the couch in faux exhaustion. 

“No!” You groaned before trying to pull him up by the collar of his shirt. “Get up, lazy bones. We still need to go to the mall before it closes! Not all of us are protected under child labor laws anymore, remember?” Unfortunately, your very solid argument went completely ignored as he flopped back down onto the couch with a huff.

“I can’t believe you packed so much stuff. I must have brought in a million boxes!” Dustin complained as he pretended to wheeze out a final breath and die right there on your couch.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his ridiculous display before using all of your upper body strength to push the back end of the couch up and flip him onto the floor.

“Ah! What the hell!” The boy squealed before plummeting the foot's distance onto the carpet.

“It was barely ten boxes; stop being such a baby and get up.” Again, your words fell on deaf ears, so you did the only sensible thing and resorted to bribery. “If you help me unstrap my bike, I’ll buy you ice cream when we get to the mall.”

That seemed to do the trick because Dustin was up and at ‘em again in no time. Hell, he practically beat you outside, despite you being closer to the door. With your little cousin’s help, you managed to get your bike off the trailer in less than fifteen minutes and could now start heading towards Hawkins’ new pride and joy. Starcourt Mall.

She was a beauty, really. A true wonder of engineering, and by wonder, you meant that it was a wonder that it still worked. She had been wrecked, fixed, wrecked again, and put back together from the ground up. Aunt Claudia had called it a deathtrap, and to be completely honest, she probably wasn’t far off, but to you, she was ol’ reliable. So, after fixing your spare helmet onto Dustin’s head and pulling on your own, you kicked her into gear and set off down the road and towards the mall.

It had been a while since you had last visited Hawkins, but not much had changed. Well, save for the giant glowing neon beacon of capitalism, of course. Seriously, you thought you were going to have a harder time finding the mall, but between all of the extravagant billboards, bus routes, and the many many signs directing traffic towards the huge vibrant colored building, it was sort of hard to miss. 

Well, at least you didn’t have to worry about finding a job anymore. The place was gigantic. There had to be over a hundred little cubical-sized shops under one roof. It would be impossible not to find somewhere to make a little cash while you were here. Hell, you were surprised there were enough people in Hawkins to keep this place up and running, some place had to be understaffed. 

Unfortunately, to your and Dustin’s surprise, most of the more cookie-cutter jobs had already been swiped up by high schoolers on summer vacation. Damn! Everything from Macy's sales associate to McDonald's burger flipper had been taken weeks ago. You must have checked half of the shops in that stupid mall and all of those “Help Wanted” signs that your aunt had told you had already been pulled from the windows. 

“How is this even possible?” Dustin huffed in disbelief as you two entered the food court, looking less than enthusiastic about your lack of finds. “I was barely gone for a month, and all the jobs are gone! Where the hell did all these people come from?! Do they not have anything better to do during break?”

“Like I said, Dusty, not all of us can ride around Hawkins all summer without needing some cash. These teens were probably cut off from their parent's bank accounts so they would get out and ‘learn the ways of the real world.’ Can’t blame them for trying to make an extra few bucks during the summer.” You tried to soothe, but you also felt the sting of the impending question. What if you couldn’t find a job this summer? You couldn't just phone up your parents begging for a little pocket change. They were states away! Asking your aunt for some money was also out of the question because you didn’t want to overstep your welcome, especially since this was your first visit back in a while. 

With a sigh, you pat Dustin's head through his trucker hat and spoke again. “I’m sure I’ll find something, but right now I’m starving, and if I'm not mistaken I owe a certain someone some ice cream. How bout it, kid? Know any good places?” And with that, Dustin lit up again.

“Oh my god! I’m such an idiot! How could I have forgotten?!” Dustin suddenly exclaimed, looking at you with wide eyes before shooting off through the crowd. 

“Wh- Dustin! Wait up!” You tried calling after him, but it was too late. That kid was on a mission, and he was dragging you along with him. You bobbed and weaved and even had to duck at one point as you made your way through the crowd of hungry food court patrons. Some grumbled as you frantically darted passed them, but you were determined to keep up with that goofy kid, so you did what you had to do until he came to a screeching halt in front of a sailor-themed parlor. 

“Dude, what the hell! The ice cream isn’t going anywhere.” You wheezed, gesturing toward the brightly colored “Scoops Ahoy” sign glowing down at you from above. Still, Dustin seemed way too proud of himself at the moment to care about your complaints. 

“It’s not about the ice cream,” He scoffed, rolling his eyes like you just weren't getting something that was glaringly obvious to everyone else. Little shit. “Don’t you see? This is the answer to all of your problems!” Yeah… you still had no idea what he was talking about.

Suddenly an almost obnoxiously loud voice called out from inside the nautical-themed creamery. “Henderson?” You turned to see a man in a ridiculous-looking sailor's uniform looking at both you and your cousin in confusion.

“What?” You both answered, which only served to confuse the poor guy even more as he finished serving the last customer at the counter. He was tall, but his hair was even taller, and he was practically oozing confidence despite the absurd uniform he was sporting. Coincidentally, he also looked to be around your age, so how did he know your little cousin?

“What gives, man? I thought you said you were with the geek squad today.” The sailor questioned as Dustin pulled you into the ice cream parlor and completely ignored the guy's questions like he so often did to you.

“Is Scoops Ahoy hiring?” Dustin prodded bluntly, which caused the older teen to shake his head from the near whiplash he got from the change of subject. You took his momentary stunned silence to slip in a question to your younger cousin.

“Who’s the hair?” You tried to whisper, but apparently, you didn't keep your voice low enough because the sailor began to introduce himself.

“Steve Harrington, and you are?” He started, but Dustin cut him off again.

“She’s my cousin,” he stated before repeating his earlier question. “Is Scoops hiring? C’mon Steve this is important!”  

The sailor’s - Steve’s -  eyes landed back on Dustin as he pursed his lips for a moment. “Sorry man, between me and Robin we pretty much got the place handled” He finally answered, genuinely sounding a bit mournful as his eyes found yours again. “But, if you're looking for somewhere to work in the mall, I’m pretty sure I still saw some help wanted signs hanging up in a music store across from us when I walked in this morning. I think it's called Tape World? Big blue neon sign, you can’t miss it.” 

Before you could thank the guy Dustin was tugging you towards the exit again. Little man really was on a mission.

“Dustin- Chill out!” You laughed, as you tried not to trip over yourself, but your legs still fumbled around uselessly. “Thanks, Steve! It was nice meeting you!” You managed to call out before Dustin had completely pulled you out of the Scoops Ahoy and back into the food court, but he didn’t stop there. No, he continued to drag your ass passed the many eating patrons and over to the entertainment section of the mall. It didn’t take too much longer after that to find that big blue sign Steve had described, and sure enough, there was still a help wanted sign hanging crooked in the window. 

For a moment, you two just stopped and stared at it in awe. Could this be it? The answer to your metaphorical prayers? It didn’t look too busy at the moment, which was a bit of a surprise considering that the mall was packed. Maybe it was a shitty music store? Well, there was only one way to find out. 

You took a moment to smooth out your shirt from all the running you had just done before casting a look down to Dustin. You were surprised to find him already looking up at you, but you didn’t let it shake you too much. Instead, you stepped towards the invitingly opened doors.

“You coming, or what?” You questioned to break the tension ghosting across your shoulders, and after a breath, Dustin followed suit. The both of you walked in and took a moment to take in the shop. 

There were cassettes and records practically covering every wall. Hell- practically every surface. Everything from Bon Jovi to Black Sabbath. There was even a little section in the back with guitars, bases, and amps for sale, and was that Metallica playing quietly through the speakers overhead? A surprising choice, but certainly not an unwelcome one. Well, at least to you it wasn’t, but you knew at least half the families in Hawkins probably thought that that kind of music was for satan worshipers or something. Was that why there was barely anyone in here? 

You were just about to head up to the front counter, but as you took your first step towards it, you caught a blur of hair and black leather zooming past out of the corner of your eye. Unfortunately, your paths intersected, and you crashed right into it. A decent stack of tapes went flying, along with your resume as you collided. 

“Oh, shit. I just reorganized those,” The man groaned, already starting to bend down to retrieve the poor cassettes. “You alright?” 

“Yeah. I am so sorry.” You apologized, face heating up as you kneeled down and started to frantically gather up the tapes. “Here, let me help.” 

Duran Duran.

The Cure.

Tears for Fears.

And…

“Hey, this is the album that's playing, right? Ride the Lightning?” You asked as you handed the guy back a blue-colored cassette case labeled Metallica.

For a moment, he just stared at you. Not in that ‘Oh yeah? name three of their songs!’ type of way, but more like he was genuinely, and maybe even pleasantly, surprised.   Nevertheless, being put under such an intense gaze was beginning to make you feel a bit nervous. So, you did what any sane person would do and laughed like an idiot. 

“What? Is this not For Whom the Bell Tolls or something? You’re looking at me like I got three heads.” You tried to break the tension with some humor which actually seemed to work because he finally took the tape and cleared his throat.

“No, yeah. Sorry, yeah. That’s what's playing. I just,” He shook his head and looked down to pick up the last of the cassettes before continuing, “you don’t look like you would be into this kind of stuff. You just surprised me.”

You scoffed, not in a harsh way, but almost teasingly. 

“What? The black riding boots aren’t enough to give me away?” You joked, and to your delight, the long-haired guy actually joined you for a huffed laugh. 

It was at that point he reached for the small stack of papers that had flown out of your hands during the collision. 

“Resumes?” He prompted, setting the newly reorganized cassettes safely back onto the glass counter before offering a ring-covered hand to help you up. You took it.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm in town for the summer and I basically blew all my money just to get here so… resumes.” You looked down awkwardly at your shoes as you explained. Slowly, he handed you back all but one of the stack. His eyes scanned quickly over the document. So quickly, in fact, that there was no possible way he could have caught more than just your name and number. 

Then finally, after what seemed like an eternity,

“You’re hired. Can you start tomorrow?” He asked, folding up your resume and shoving it into the back pocket of his ripped jeans. 

What?

“What? Just like that? No interview?” You weren’t one for chancing your luck but this just seem way too easy after all you had just gone through. There had to be some sort of catch, right?

“Nope! I happen to be a fantastic judge of character, and I am judging your character to be perfect for this job.” He answered so confidently, that you almost believed him. “And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m the only one working in here, and I am so sick of being around so many people with absolutely no taste.” He finally fessed up after a short pause, pulling a soft laugh from your chest. 

“So what do you say? Can you start tomorrow?” The poor guy was practically begging at this point, and you really needed the money so…

“What time?” You answered with a grin, looking back up just in time to catch him fist pump the air and jump up onto the counter, swinging his legs across so that he was on the other side. 

He ducked below, and for a second you lost sight of him completely. Then, almost like a groundhog, he popped back into view with a vibrant blue vest with Tape World embroidered on the breast and a stack of new employee forms. 

“We open at ten tomorrow, but if you come in at nine-thirty, I’ll show you how to work the register.” He announced, sliding the items across the counter before leaning forward, resting his forearms against the glass display. “Oh,” His eyes closed as if something important had just caught up with him, “I also got a deal with the guys down at Hawkins’ Heroes so we can get some free breakfast too if you want.”

“That sounds great! I guess I’ll catch you tomorrow then…uh…” Your eyes darted across his uniform, searching for a name tag, but no joy. Fortunately, he must have caught your struggle because he stood back up straight and extended his arms out for an exaggerated bow. 

“Edward Munson, at your service.” He introduced himself in a booming voice, that actually seemed to spook a couple of patrons towards the back of the store. “But! You can just call me Eddie.” He continued in a much more reasonable tone, dropping his hands back down to his sides with an almost goofy lopsided grin. 

Who even was this guy? You asked yourself fondly, smiling back at him.

“Well then, Eddie, it's been a pleasure, but I’ve gotta feed this guy and get him home before his mom sends out a search party.” You threw a thumb back at Dustin who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole exchange. “Nine thirty, right?”

“Nine thirty,” Eddie confirmed, picking up the tapes he had dropped a few minutes ago to restock the shelves.

And with that, you gave one last wave before walking out of that little music store you were sure would leave a big impact on your summer vacation. Hopefully, it would be a good one. 

As you and Dustin once again made your way back toward the food court, you couldn’t help but notice that he was giving you a look. At first, you tried to ignore it, but as you two got closer and closer, his smug look seemed to bore itself into the side of your head until you finally conceded. 

“What?” 

“Huh? Oh, Nothing.” Dustin answered nonchalantly, finally looking away. He was trying to seem aloof, but you knew he was just being a little shit.

“C’mon, kid. Spit it out.” You tried, but he seemed content keeping up his little act for a little while longer. Eventually, after another long moment of silence, he couldn't contain himself and broke.

“I was just thinking about Suzie. That’s all.” He answered smugly and given his tone, that definitely wasn't all.

“Suzie?” You prompted, raising an eyebrow at your little cousin. 

“Suzie.” The kid repeated but continued to elaborate when you shot him a questing look. “My totally beautiful and genius girlfriend from Camp Know Where.”

“Okay. Sure. What about her?” You were really failing to see how his definitely real and totally not made-up girlfriend was relevant to the situation. 

“Well, I was thinking about the way she looked at me after I finished building Cerebro.” After another long pause, Dustin was starting to get impatient with you. “She looked at me like that guy from the music store looked at you just now!” He groaned at you as if what he was saying was painfully obvious.

“Dustin, what are you talking about?” You scoffed, but his stupid smirk didn’t budge. “He was probably just thrown off because some random girl ran into him and made him drop a bunch of shit. Stop- Quit smiling at me like that!” You could feel your face start to heat up again, but you couldn't tell if it was because you were embarrassed or annoyed. 

“Uh-huh. Sure. That was definitely the only reason.” It was at that point that you gave him a light shove on the shoulder. Not enough to hurt or push him down, but apparently enough to send him spiraling into a fit of laughter. 

“You are such a cocky little shit, you know that?” You snorted as pulled him back upright and under your arm. “Now shut up and pick something to eat so we can go home.”

[k-evans-reads]

On Deck

Chapter 4

Summary: Although they grew up in the same small town, Chris and Sam had both gone their separate ways a long time ago. Chris moved up to become a MLB star, one of the best in the business, while Sam stayed stuck in the same small town. But when multiple injuries ended the Red Sox prodigy’s career, he winds up back in the same small town he swore he’d never be back to. The past may not stay in the past any longer, as old wounds begin to creep back up.

Pairing: MLB!Chris Evans X OFC Samantha “Sam” Merrick

Word Count: 7,065

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None

Previous | Main Masterlist | On Deck Masterlist

Chris slapped a hand against his chest, almost falling off the stool at the diner as he laughed wildly at the joke Sam had just told, loving that he now started most mornings this way. Something about seeing those dimples every morning seemed to completely change Chris’ outlook on being back in the small town. Because of that, it wasn’t unusual to see the retired baseball star at the counter and some of the residents were starting to take notice.

“Hi Lisa, I’ve got someone here you might know,” Sam smiled, straightening up from where she was leaning against the counter as she looked over Chris’ head at the doorway.

He turned, standing to hug his mother as she asked, “Chris, what are you doing here?”

“Having breakfast,” he shrugged as he pulled back, a little sheepish before he sat down at the counter again. “I didn’t know you were coming otherwise I would have come to pick you up.”

“I always come here for breakfast on Saturday,” she replied easily, sitting on the empty stool next to her eldest son, running a hand over his back as she passed him, Chris smiling easily at Sam before he dropped the smile as his mother sat down.

“Well I’ll have to start coming with you now,” he murmured, taking a sip of his coffee.

Sam smiled at Lisa, exchanging pleasantries with her quickly before she looked between the pair of Evanses, asking, “Do you guys both want your usuals?”

He smiled at her, nodding as he said,  “Yeah, thanks Sammy.”

Sam nodded, smiling at him quickly before she went into the back, ringing in their order and taking care of her other tables. It was silent, Lisa looking around before she locked her eyes onto Chris as he took a sip of his coffee, brows raised as she sighed, “So…”

He put his mug on the counter, raising his brows and shaking his head confusedly, asking, “So what? Why are you looking at me weird?”

“You have a usual here?”

“Just a couple eggs, toast and coffee,” he shrugged, leaning back.  “It’s not like there’s many places to eat around here.”

She tutted under his breath, Chris tensing instinctively as she shrugged innocently, “I just didn’t realize you came here that often.”

But before Chris could even think of a response, Sam came back over with a steaming coffee pot, a smile on her face as she refilled his mug. “Hey Chris, you’re pretty special. You get the first cup of coffee out of our brand new coffee pot.”

He laughed, a smile splitting his lips as he raised his brows and asked, “What? A new one? But how am I even going to recognize the coffee without it being burned from that old pot?”

“This might rock your world but it’s not even burned today. It’s even… dare I say… good?” Sam’s freckled nose scrunched up as she leaned in as if telling him a secret.

“No, I don’t believe it,” Chris shook his head decidedly.

“Take a drink and find out. I’ll come back to see what you think,” She called out with a smile as she turned to set the coffee pot down before hurrying off to where someone was calling her name.

Chris’ blue eyes followed her, watching her take another table’s order before she leaned her hip against it as she chatted with the table, Chris watching as she so effortlessly charmed them. He was so lost in the way her dimples showed up when she smiled and couldn’t seem to pry his eyes away from her.

“Now I know why you come here,” he heard his mother mutter.

“What do you mean?” Chris turned to look at her while sipping the coffee that he admitted was actually good.

“I mean Sam,” Lisa finally revealed, nodding toward the waitress who was whizzing around. “I saw the way you were looking at her.”

The chipped coffee cup that Chris held blocked his bearded face for a moment but when he put it down, that smirk of his was evident on his lips, making Lisa a little bit worried.

“Don’t mess with her Chris.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean it, Chris,” Lisa emphasized that she was serious, adding, “She’s been through a lot,”

“No, I actually like her. Like a lot,” There was nothing but honesty in his blue eyes.

“She’s a great girl,” his mother reminded him, shaking her head a bit as she remembered, “She was taking care of Riley when she was 14. Nobody should have to do that as a kid.”

“I know, she’s had a lot thrust on her and she’s just… really great,” he said quietly, frowning a little as he took a sip of his coffee.

He and Lisa quietly chatted, Lisa telling about a new job his brother had and Chris updating her on all the happenings of the baseball team and how the kids were doing. Sam had swung by, filling both their coffee cups and laughing at a dumb joke Chris told before a short man that Chris had only seen through the office window appear as he stormed toward the kitchen.

“Sam! Kitchen! Now!” He barked before Chris watched Sam put down the coffee pot and follow him into the kitchen. With the thin door that was near where they were sitting at the counter, it was easy to hear the anger in his voice from the diner owner as he shouted, “What the hell is this? An unpaid receipt?”

“I’m sorry, he said he forgot his wallet in his car and was running to get it,” was Sam’s response.

“Never let them out the door! I’ve told you this before! This is coming out of your paycheck.” The harshness in his voice married with his yelling was enough to get a good amount of the patrons attention, “And what is happening with all the dishes in the sink?”

“The dishwasher is broken again and I haven’t had time to-” Sam tried to explain.

“I don’t need your excuses Merrick, I just want to see your lazy ass doing something for once,” he barked right back. “Also don’t think I forgot about that tray of glasses you broke last week that you still haven’t paid me back for.”

“I slipped on the puddle from the sink that’s leaking, it was just an accident,” the frustration in Sam’s voice was evident.

“Accident or not, you better pay me back by the end of the week or I’m cutting your shifts next week,” the sharp tone rang out.

Chris could feel how furrowed his eyebrows were, deep in concentration as he listened to the voices that fell flat. He lifted his head in time to see the owner come storming out before stomping back to his office and closing the door. It was obvious that quite a few of the customers heard Sam getting chewed out during the morning rush and the embarrassment was obvious on Sam’s face, her freckled cheeks tinted pink. But what Chris noticed was the gloss over her eyes, seeing how hard she was trying to blink back tears and put a smile on her face as she rushed between all the tables.

“Why in the world does Sam put up with that?” Chris quietly said to his mother when Sam was busy across the diner, scribbling an order on her notepad.

“I don’t think she has a whole lot of options for employment, especially not ones that she can be home in the evenings with Riley,” Lisa knew that Sam was stuck here. “But it’s such a shame Ken treats anyone that way, especially Sam. She’s the only reason so many people come to this diner.”

Although he hadn’t been in town long, it was obvious that Sam was the draw to the diner. She knew everyone who came through the door, or if she didn’t, she made it a point to get to know them. She asked everyone about their families, how their favorite hobby was going, and all kinds of details only someone who really cared would remember. Sam really loved people and getting to know them and to see her treated so shabbily made anger flare inside of Chris, wanting to do nothing more than march into that office and tell Ken off.

Almost reading his mind, Lisa reminded him, “Chris, it’s not your place.”

“I know,” he sighed, shaking his head while staring down into his coffee cup. “It’s just so shitty.”

“It is, but let it go,” she reminded him before looking at her phone. “Oh shoot, I forgot the repair man was coming over to the house, I have to go.”

“I’ve got your meal, Ma,” Chris told her as she stood up and kissed his cheek, thanking him before she hurried off.

As Chris sat at the stool at the counter now alone, he kept wanting a moment to talk to Sam. He wanted to be able to see how she was feeling and be able to say something to make her let out that loud laugh that he’d come to love. He wanted to see those dimples when she smiled, rather than the straight line her mouth was fixed in at the moment but he didn’t get a chance. She barely had time to say more than one word when she dropped off his breakfast before hurrying between all the tables.

It was like he could see a visible weight on her shoulders as she tried to keep up with the busy Saturday by herself, attempting to keep that smile on her face even though Chris could recognize it wasn’t real. He had just finished eating his last piece of toast when he saw a couple standing at the register as they waited, Sam calling over she’d be right there.

He watched as a customer ruined Sam’s day even more, frozen in shock and not sure what would be overstepping as the man refused to pay for food, claiming it was burnt, despite eating all of it. Sam stood her ground, telling him that since he hadn’t complained earlier, giving her the chance to fix the issue, he still had to pay. He saw the toll that interaction took on her, knowing it was just the icing on the cake of an awful birthday, but could tell that intervening would only worsen her mood, and the situation.

He didn’t have an opportunity to say anything until Sam came over, not even looking at him while she dug through her apron pocket to look for his ticket. Although Chris knew he didn’t have her full attention, he couldn’t not acknowledge what had happened and said, “Sammy, I’m so sorry. It’s been a rough morning around here.”

She let out a humorless chuckle as she kept digging, her stinging eyes still staring down as she muttered, “Yeah, happy birthday to me.”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” Chris couldn’t believe it, his blue eyes growing wide as he stared at her.

“Yep.” Was the only response she replied before putting his ticket on the counter and rushing off to another table.

It was at that moment that Chris realized although he and Sam grew up just miles apart, their lives couldn’t have been more different. As a kid, birthdays were a big deal around the Evans house. For both Chris and his siblings, Lisa always would make a huge cake and the table would be filled with presents. There always was a house full of their friends for a party filled with any kind of ice cream or treats they wanted. Their birthdays were full of celebration and a lot of that spilled over into adulthood.

Although it had been many years since he had lived at home, there still was always a celebration for his birthday. He always went out to some club or something with his teammates, his siblings and parents always called him and sent some thoughtful gifts. But it wasn’t just him. All of his teammates had just as much of an affair on their birthday, doing something to celebrate but on her birthday, Sam was here running back and forth across a sticky floor to bring out shitty breakfasts on chipped plates.

Her birthday wasn’t anything special, and in fact, it was less than. She was getting shouted at and demeaned left and right but she just had to take it. That was another difference between them, he supposed. If a coach or manager had treated him like that, he would have just gone to HR or if it was really bad he’d request a trade and go play for another team. Having money afforded him choices… choices that Sam didn’t have.

But right now he knew there wasn’t anything he could really do about it, and the helpless feeling that it left him with was something that he absolutely despised. Knowing he wouldn’t get a chance to talk to her, he left a pile of cash on the counter and sadly walked out of the diner, climbing into this car to head back home, killing some time before going out to the baseball field where all the kids started showing up.

Chris stood on the field, hands on his slim hips while he squinted from the sun that his Red Sox hat didn’t block, watching the boys run laps to get them warmed up before practice. He was able to keep his focus during practice but in the back of his head was Sam. He didn’t know how she seemed to linger there all the time but she did. Practice continued through the afternoon, running until the sun started to set when the team kept dropping balls left and right and Chris wanted them to work on it more. Chris called out to the team, telling them they were going to run through batting practice before finishing up for the day but while they all went to get lined up, Riley instead came jogging over to him.

He paused a few feet away from Chris, hands fidgeting nervously at his sides as he asked,“Hey Coach…”

“Yeah?”

“Um, hey I just kind of was wondering,” he paused, before he sighed and shrugged a little and met Chris’ eyes, “Well practice is running a little long and well, it’s Sam’s birthday…”

Chris shook his head, watching as Riley rambled, completely losing focus on what he was trying to say. “Just ask me what you want to ask me, Riley,” he quietly said, watching as the players across the field laughed at a joke.

“Can I leave practice to go take Sam out to dinner for her birthday? I have the car today so she’s waiting for me at the diner,” he finally spit out, eyes hopeful and wide as he looked up at Chris, an unconscious smile spreading across Chris’ lips at the sentiment.

He nodded, reaching out and placing his hand on Riley’s skinny shoulder. “Go up and do your batting practice then you can go,” he nodded, grinning as a wide grin spread across Riley’s lips before he turned, running back to the diamond.  “Guys! Merrick is up first!”

Chris watched as Riley batted, hitting a couple of balls deep in the outfield before his turn was done. Seeing how much Riley adored his sister, who he had seen was more of a mom than sister, really touched him so deeply. He thought back to what he’d witnessed that morning and how Sam endured all of that for Riley. She stayed here in this town working a shitty job just so she could be there for Riley and give him the things he suspected she never did.

When he finished, Riley jogged into the dugout, pulling his bags out before he jogged towards the gate and past Chris, throwing a wave his way. “Bye Coach, thanks!”

“Riley, c’mere,” he called, reaching in his pocket and slipping a few bills out, pressing them into Riley’s hand once he stopped in front of him. He dropped his voice down as he instructed, “Take Sam wherever she wants to go. She’s had a rough day.”

The beaming smile that erupted on Riley’s face was enough to make Chris’ day, loving that he could bring a little happiness as Riley profusely thanked him before running to his car, dust rising up behind him. Chris chuckled softly to himself before clapping his hands together and calling out, “Alright let’s go. Who’s up next?”

It wasn’t too much longer until practice was over, all the equipment was loaded up in his car and Chris was back in his nice apartment, laying on his comfortable bed. He wasn’t paying attention to what was on tv, his brain only thinking about Sam. The vision of those tears in her eyes flashed in his head and he hoped that as terrible as her day started, it maybe would end a little better with getting to spend time with Riley and not having to worry about money for once.

He knew he couldn’t change the way things were for her or take away all that had happened this morning, but he hoped he was part of maybe bringing just the smallest smile to her face, even if he wasn’t there to get to see it. Silently he pulled out his phone, doing the only thing he could think of and simply texting her, “Happy birthday, Sammy”.

Sam yawned in the backseat of Ify and Caleb’s car, smoothing a hand over her short dress as she watched the passing cars. It had already been a long day- Riley had a game early that morning, then they went back home, where she’d worked a short shift before getting ready for the night. Ify and Caleb were taking her out to a bar in the next town over for her birthday, giving her a much-needed night off from all of the responsibilities she shouldered.

She had been so excited for the evening in the larger town, she even went out and bought a dress just for the occasion, finding a cute one on the rack at Goodwill for only a few dollars, that she was getting to wear for the first time. She relaxed in the backseat, just loving to have a moment of not being at work or in the dingy apartment that always smelled like weed, while the trio chatted in the car until they pulled into the parking lot of a bar that looked much too fancy for her.

They headed inside, stopping to take a few pictures with their drinks in hand before they found a booth near the corner. Sam had to laugh when she sat down, commenting that, “This bar is so different from the one in town. I actually can slide across the booth and not stick to it.”

“Well it is for your birthday celebration, we had to go a little upscale,” Ify grinned as she slid onto the opposite cushion, glancing around the busy bar.

Sam shook her head, looking at the couple. “You guys didn’t need to do anything for me, but this is so sweet.”

But Ify simply shrugged, looking at her husband, Caleb, as she said, “We wanted to.”

“She has another surprise for you too,” Caleb quietly told Sam, a smirk spreading across his lips.

“What?”

Her best friend sighed, biting her lower lip. “Okay, don’t kill me…” she said, pausing before continuing, “But I invited Chris.”

“You what?!” Sam yelped, extremely caught off guard. “Why in the world would you invite him?” She asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was supposed to be a fun, laid back night between the three friends, one where Sam could just be herself, not a surrogate mother, not a waitress, and not running around. But she’d felt on edge with Chris lately, not in a bad way, but enough that she was nervous around him in a way she’d never felt before.

“Well you two are friends,” Ify shrugged, interrupting her train of thought.

She rolled her eyes, leaning back against the cushioned booth. “Barely,” she muttered, shaking her head as she added, “He’s still a stuck up asshole.”

“Are you still trying to play that card?” Ify barked out a laugh, shaking her head incredulously as she looked at Sam. “C’mon Sam, don’t even act like you weren’t checking him out during the game this morning. I saw the way you eyed him when he was leaning against the fence.”

“Yeah you weren’t really hiding it that well, Sam,” Caleb interjected, trying to hide his smirk behind his hand, but failing.

Sam felt her face flush, remembering how she missed nearly an entire inning of gameplay because of where her eyes had trailed to. Chris was an extremely attractive individual, she could admit that, but admitting that she found him attractive, enough to have developed somewhat of a crush on him was hard to admit, especially given who he was to Riley. “Okay, so what? A lot of the women in the stands are doing the same thing. He’s not ugly, but it doesn’t mean anything more than that,” she shrugged, trying to play it off nonchalantly.

Ify looked at her, folding her arms on the wooden tabletop. “I just thought that you’d like Chris coming because you always smile when he comes to the diner,” she confessed, before a shrug appeared and she added, “Besides, I asked him where is a good place in this town since he comes here for his physical therapy. I couldn’t ask him and then not invite him.”

“Actually you could. Very easily,” Sam retorted, brows raising as she looked at her best friend.

“Well it’s too late now, he just walked in,” Caleb said, nodding over to the door as he raised a hand to get Chris’ attention.

Sam turned her head, looking to where Chris was walking over and she felt her breathing grow a little more shallow. Normally she was used to seeing him in some sort of Nike or Adidas sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, but tonight he looked a little different and it stirred things inside of her. His long legs strode with his long legs outlined in a pair of black jeans while a white tank top was on his chest, cut low enough to let her see the tops of some tattoos she’d never been able to see before along with a small peep of his dark chest hair and a silver necklace hanging on top. He had layered a red plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to show those toned forearms and a Red Sox hat on top of his head, only bringing more attention to that gorgeous bearded face she’d come to love seeing. But even more than that, what really got her going was that look in his blue eyes. How he stared at her when he came to the table, no hesitation in his eye contact as he stared deep into her eyes, his low voice greeting her with, “Hi Sammy.”

She smiled, her cheeks heating up but before she could reply, he timidly said, “I heard there was a party for your birthday and I couldn’t miss out on that.”

Sam rolled her eyes fondly, shaking her head as she muttered, “Now you’re really stalking me now, aren’t you?”

Chris’ brow raised playfully, eyes twinkling while he asked her, “Well is it stalking if you have an invitation?”

“I just figured it was because you have nothing better to do in your retirement.”

“If that was a crack about my age, just remember you’re not far behind me now, Samantha. So you better keep that sass in check,” he grinned, reminding her that she was now twenty-eight, a mere year, until the middle of June, behind him.

She barked out a laugh, rolling her eyes again as her blush deepend. “Fat chance.”

Caleb slid out of the booth, slapping a hand on Chris’ shoulder as he grabbed his drink, saying, “C’mon Chris, let’s go get a drink. I want to get some more ice in mine.”

The men walked to the bar across the room, Sam’s eyes trailing them and lingering on Chris’ frame, clad in the tight jeans and flannel that hugged him just right. She saw the way he rested his forearms on the bar, bent forward and showing off that round backside of his, toned from his years of baseball. It was something she had noticed on more than one occasion and at this moment all she could think about was what it would feel like underneath the palms of her hands.

A shrill, dry tone cut through her thoughts, interrupting her suddenly as Ify asked, “So are you happy I invited Chris now?”

Sam shook her head, knowing she was in deep shit. “Ify, he’s fucking hot,” she muttered, taking a large swig of her drink as she felt her hands tremble slightly.

“I knew it. I knew you were into him,” Ify cheered, a warm grin sliding across her face as she looked at Sam excitedly.

“It’s not just his looks though Ify. I mean the man was a big shot professional baseball player and now he’s coaching kids and investing so much in them. You should hear the way Riley talks about him and how much he takes those boys under his wing,” Sam rambled, her heart skipping a beat as she was finally able to admit her feelings, trusting Ify to keep it a secret. “And then have you seen the way he looks at his mother? I mean, he adores that woman. But then when-”

“Okay I get it Sam, you’re into him,” Ify laughed, taking a sip of her drink before asking, “Why don’t you make a move?”

Sam rolled her eyes sarcastically, waving a hand in the air as she dryly said, “Oh yeah, like I have time to date.”

“You could if you wanted to.”

“Not really,” Sam pointed out, knowing the odds were against her. There was too much at stake to lose Chris’ presence in their lives. “Besides, it’d just be some fling and then he’ll be going back to Boston which would be fine but I don’t want to make things weird between us because of Riley. That kid needs a good male in his life and he looks up to Chris so much. I don’t want to ruin that.”

“I can understand that,” Ify nodded, before the smirk spread across her lips. “But you can at least enjoy the view.”

“You’re right about that,” Sam nodded, raising her glass before she took another sip.

The guys came back quickly, Sam shooting Ify a look to get her to stop laughing. Chris slid into the booth next to Sam, his body language relaxed in a way she’d never seen before. They quickly fell into conversation, Chris laughing and exchanging stories with Ify and Caleb from his days in high school, Sam groaning whenever she was mentioned.

Sam picked at the large pretzel they’d ordered, shaking her head as she told Chris, “I can’t believe you mentioned me. I didn’t know you knew I existed in high school.”

“Trust me, I knew you existed,” he laughed, his hand coming to rest on her bare thigh and squeezing it. Sam felt her heart skip a beat at the easy touch, she knew Chris was an extremely tactile person, had seen it over the years as kids, but she’d never been on the receiving end of it. And she kind of loved it. “But I think that’s enough of me telling stories. I want to hear some embarrassing ones about Sam.”

“Absolutely not,” Sam quickly said, shaking her head as Ify and Caleb burst into laughter.

He raised a hand in the air, waving her off before the same hand picked up his beer. “C’mon, I know there has to be a million of them,” he begged, his eyebrows raising hopefully as he looked at them.

“Excuse me, I thought this was supposed to be celebrating my birthday?”

“It is, it’s research of getting to know you more,” he smirked, his gaze turning to her and lingering for several long moments, hand squeezing Sam’s thigh, before he turned his attention to the other side of the booth, looking at the pair. “C’mon Ify, tell me some good stories about this one.”

“Well I can think of one involving a boyfriend and the prep table,”

“Ooh okay here’s something I want to know. What’s Sammy’s type?” He asked, leaning forward and raising a hand to cover his chin, but leaving his right hand on her thigh.

Sam laughed, dipping a piece of the soft pretzel in the cup of caramel. “Basically the exact opposite of you,” she deadpanned, fighting a smirk as she met Ify’s eyes and heard Chris’ loud laughter.

“Oh so your type is not smooth, awkward, and unlikeable,” he drawled back, picking his hand up off of her thigh and listing things off as he counted on his fingers, a smirk on his lips.

“And you wonder why I think you’re full of yourself?”

He barked out another laugh, the others joining in. The subject soon changed, the four of them sitting in that booth for another hour, exchanging random stories, talking, and laughing until they were red in the face. They stayed that way until nearly ten thirty, when Caleb sighed as he glanced at his watch.

“Well we probably need to get home and relieve the sitter,” he sighed, glancing towards Ify as she nodded, finishing the last of her drink and grabbing her purse from where it rested next to her on the booth.

Sam looked between them, nodding as well as she reached for her glass. “Okay, I’ll finish my drink really quick.”

Chris sat up next to Sam, tilting his head to look at her. “You can come home with me,” Chris offered, before his face turned a deep shade of red, shaking his head as he rephrased his offer. “Wait no, no, I meant that I can take you home.”

“Chris you don’t-”

“Sammy,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Just let me take you home. That way Ify and Caleb can go and you can finish your drink. Your place is on the way home anyway.”

“Well, I kind of want to finish my drink. It’s so expensive I can’t let it go to waste,” she laughed, reaching for the drink as Chris smiled, his eyes crinkling happily in a way that made her heart skip a beat. They said goodbye to Ify and Caleb, exchanging hugs before they were left alone for the first time all night.

It was silent for a moment, Chris tapping his fingers on the table before he finally asked, “So what is this story about a boyfriend and a prep table?”

“Shut up! It’s not what Ify made it sound like!”

He roared with laughter, shaking his head as he insisted, “I still think I want to hear it.”

“You’d have to get more than just two drinks in me for that to happen,” she replied, raising a single eyebrow with a slight smirk.

“Okay, can we get another-”

“Chris!” She laughed, shaking her head as she lightly smacked his firm chest. “You’re terrible.”

“Yeah I know,” he replied, smiling at her and looking her up and down, barely hiding the flirtatious edge in his eyes. “It’s different for me seeing you out of those black diner tee shirts.”

Sam rolled her eyes, muttering, “Well I’m happy to not be wearing that tee shirt at least for one day, even if I just traded it in for a four dollar goodwill dress.”

“You make it look like a million bucks though,” he grinned before he nodded once, reaching and placing a hand over her own. “It’s a good thing you still have your hair up in a bun. That’s one way I can always recognize you at the diner. It lets me see those dimples and your freckles from a mile away.”

“At least I wore enough makeup to cover most of the freckles tonight.”

“Yeah and I don’t like it. They’re fuckin’ cute,” he whispered, Sam straining to hear him over the noise of the bar, Chris pausing before he lifted a hand, teasingly pulling a strand of hair from her bun as he murmured, “You know what else I don’t like? That your bun is so perfect. I like it when all those little pieces are falling out of the back.”

She jerked away with a grin, smacking his hand. “Christopher! Leave my hair alone!”

“Why? It’s a lot cuter this way,”

“I think we better get going before you completely destroy my hair,” she shook her head, shooting him a small smirk as he laughed quietly.

“Alright, I’m going to go take care of the tab, I’ll be right back,” he said, pushing himself out of the booth and walking across the room.

Sam’s eyes followed him as he waltzed to the counter, leaning over it while pulling out his wallet, her eyes dropping to his ass for a moment. She saw him patiently waiting for the bartender to come over but in the meantime, Sam saw a woman approaching him. It was obvious what she wanted right away with the way she leaned her body into his and rubbed a hand up and down his arm. She felt a flare of jealousy inside of her and she wanted nothing more in that moment than to see Chris pull back immediately and say he wasn’t interested… but that wasn’t what she saw.

Although he didn’t reciprocate her advances, she saw the two of them talking and that was just enough of a reality check for her. Chris had girls throwing themselves at him, he always had, but she knew it only had increased over the years with his notoriety and his good looks. She felt a sour mood come over her, pulling the rug out from underneath all their flirting and lingering looks of the night and by the time Chris had come back to the table, Sam was grabbing her purse and climbing out of the booth without even looking at him.

She shook her head as he paused in his steps, avoiding his eyes as she said, “Chris, I can get home on my own.”

“What? Sammy, what are you talking about?”

“It looked like you made a friend over there,” she jerked her head towards where the girl was ordering a drink from the bartender, Sam shaking her head again as she pulled out her phone to figure out a ride home. “You can take her home. I can get home by myself.”

“She was just some Red Sox fan,” he said quickly, Sam finally meeting his eyes as a small look of surprise crossed his face. “Wait a minute, are you a little jealous?”

“Yeah right. You just want to believe I am to stroke your ego, Evans,” she rolled her eyes, but stopped and put her phone back in her bag.

“Well then I guess it’s good you’re here, you can keep me in check,” he chuckled, reaching for her arm and guiding her to the door.

They crossed the dark parking lot until they reached the shiny black Audi the Sam knew cost more than she’d ever dream of making in a year. Chris opened the passenger door for her, letting her climb in before he went around to the drivers side to start the journey home. Sam thought the 45 minute drive seemed to go by in just mere moments, the entire ride filled with easy conversation and loud laughter, both of them also somehow finding a way to often reach over and touch one another easily, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Chris had just pulled onto the street that the rundown apartment was on, making her want to bring up the other day, Sam clearing her throat and saying, “Chris, I’ve been meaning to mention the money you gave Riley the other day-”

“Before you tell me you want to pay me back or some dumb shit like that, just let me say that it was a birthday present, okay?”

She shook her head, turning in her seat to look at him fully as he parked the car. “I was just going to say thank you,” she smiled, watching as a tiny, almost secretive grin crossed his face.

“You’re welcome, Sammy,” he replied quietly, turning off the car and turning to look at her for a moment, silent before he said, “Let me walk you up to your apartment.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to,” she shook her head before she unbuckled her seat belt, a tiny smirk crossing her face as she added, “I do know how to walk, you know?”

He sighed, undoing his seat belt and opening his door. “Alright smartass, I’m coming anyway.”

They crossed the parking lot silently, Sam unlocking the front door with her key and heading for the stairs, Chris following her. “Can you even climb all these stairs, old man?” She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder with a laugh.

“Remember what I said earlier, you better be careful with that old shit. Now you’re getting up there yourself,” he shook his head with a smile, easily following her.

“Still younger than you.”

“Yeah yeah whatever, just keep walking.”

They were silent, in the hallway of Sam’s floor when she fell into Chris’ pace and quietly said, “Thanks for coming tonight, it was really fun.”

He turned to look at her with a small smirk, eyes mischievous as he rhetorically asked, “Are you admitting that you actually had fun with me?”

“Only because Ify and Caleb were there.”

She watched Chris overdramatically roll his eyes in response before they came to look right at her, the pair pausing as they reached her door. There was a silence between them that seemed to hold so much, neither one knowing how to delve into it but both were well aware that it existed. Sam suddenly was hyper aware of how close he was standing to her, the way the warmth of his body radiated off of him and the smell of his cologne in her nose. With the heels she had on, she was closer to his height and she was able to easily see the way his blue eyes were staring at her from underneath those long lashes as his tongue came out to lick his lips softly before he reached a hand up to rub over his bearded chin, a nervous tick he’d had for a long time. Sam saw the way he took half a step closer before his low voice rumbled, “Happy birthday, Sammy.”

And in that moment she felt the hair on the back of her neck standing up as he put one of his big hands on her cheek, holding her still while he leaned in to kiss her cheek softly. The mix of feeling his gentle lips along with the prickle of his beard on top of all the flirting and touches that night was enough to make Sam snap and before Chris could move away, she grabbed the back of his neck and crashed her lips against his.

It didn’t even take an entire second for Chris to start kissing her right back. He didn’t even lose a beat, giving Sam the confidence that he was already thinking about this just like she was. Chris pressed his body against her, pushing her back until she was against the wooden door, keeping her caged in. She didn’t even register the muffled sounds of her neighbors, or the smell of burnt food from across the hall as Chris pushed his tongue against hers, swallowing a gasp from Sam as she raked a hand through his thick hair.

She wrapped a leg around his before Sam felt Chris’ warm hand slide down the side of her body until it reached the smooth skin of her thigh that her dress didn’t cover. He grasped it tightly while pushing her a little more firmly into the door and Sam wanted to melt from feeling his weight against her while their lips stayed firmly connected. Neither could hardly breathe as their tongues tangled together, both so caught up in the moment nothing else seemed to matter. It wasn’t until Sam felt Chris reach behind her to blindly try to find the doorknob which made her pull away from the searing kiss.

Sam pulled away from his lips with a pop, her head resting against the door and stared into his lust-blown eyes, shaking her head as she whispered, “Chris, Riley’s home.”

He deflated a bit, nodding and dropping his hand from her leg, flushing as he replied, “Oh….right.”

“I uh…I guess we both had a little too much to drink tonight,” she laughed awkwardly, knowing it was a lie. They’d both paced themselves, neither having more than two drinks all night, but it seemed like the easiest out for them both in this awkward situation. She’d almost fucked everything up, not only for herself, but for Riley, and she’d never forgive herself if it had gone further than just this one encounter.

“Yeah for sure,” he agreed easily, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “It obviously got in our system.”

“It’s so weird what a few drinks can do to you, right?”

“It really is,” he chuckled, body tensing awkwardly in a way she hadn’t seen in weeks.

“So um, practice is at 4 tomorrow?” She asked, avoiding his eyes as she dug in her bag for her keys, turning to unlock the door. “I’m picking Riley up so I want to make sure I get the time right.”

“Yep. So I guess I’ll see you after,” she heard him say, listening as he stepped back carefully.

She unlocked the door, turning to look at him as she stepped inside. “See you tomorrow,” she smiled awkwardly, watching as he nodded with a small frown as she shut the door quickly.

A/N: We're starting a new story soon and would love some input! Click here to vote on some things for us to consider. Poll closes late on Monday night (EST/PST) or early Tuesday, so get them in! See you all next week. Send us any thoughts or reactions, we'd love to hear them! 😜

[aquaticalay]

Old Flames Die Hard (The Mandalorian x reader)

Summary: You've only seen Din Djarin's face once before, when you were younger. Now he shows up at your door looking for shelter, and he can't help but crave your touch.

Warning: fluffy smut and blindfolding. Bit of angst :)

Word count: 2.6k

Note: literally no one asked for this, but I'm in love with Mando, so enjoy! :)))

Also I'm reuploading this bcs tumblr apparently hates me and they took this off the tags

Your peaceful reading was disturbed by the sound of a firm knock on your door. You look. away from you scrolls, wondering who might be here this early in the morning. 

Walking to the front door of your hut, you peek from the hole of the door viewer to check who it was.

A familiar helmet and figure stood on the other side of the door. You inhale sharply because the figure was too familiar.

What could he want from you? After all this time?

You open the door, an inevitable warm smile plastered to your face.

"Hello," you say, keeping your composure straight.

"Hello, (Y/n)," he greets. You could see how tense he becomes. You wish you could see his reaction, his emotions through the helmet, but you know better.

"What are you doing in Takodana?" You ask, tilting your head in curiosity.

So she still has it, Mando thinks to himself, those hypnotic eyes full of wonder. A gaze he had not been able to resist then.

"I need a place to lay low," he tells you. If there was ever a coldness to his voice, it was easing.

"Why—" you start to say, but was interrupted by a small, adorable squeal of a small, pale green child with eyes bigger than his nose and ears longer than his arms.

You knelt down. "Hi, little one," you coo, letting its tiny tridactyl hands curl on your pointer finger. "Where did Mando find you, hm?" You added.

"Are we welcomed inside?" Mando asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. You lifted the infant, rocking him gently in your arms. 

You nod. "Of course. Come in."

-

You lay the child on a bed of fur, making sure he is comfortable. When you pull your arms away from the child, it let out a high-pitched noise. It didn't want you to go.

You shush him attentively. "It's okay," you say quietly, "I am not leaving, I will be right here."

Even with your back facing Mando, you could feel his piercing stare. 

When the child yawned and relaxed, you let him rest. You take a seat on a table not far from him, where Mando was sitting across from you.

"So," you cross you arms on your chest, "Why are you running this time?"

"The child is a bounty," he tells you.

"Ah," you say, leaning back on your chair. "You helped him escape?"

He nods.

To an extent, knowing Mando rescued this child restored your faith in him. You shake your head, letting out a cynical chuckle. "This is why I am a bounty hunter no more."

"What are you now?" He asks. For the first time since he got here, you can hear that he still cares.

"A scholar," you answer lightly. "I teach travelers now."

He nods again, but does not answer with words. 

"Tell me more, Mando," you start to say, "about what you've been up to."

And he does just that for the next hour or so. You listen intently, lost in his tales of exciting adventures. 

-

You excuse yourself to your room, telling him that you needed rest after a long night of reading scrolls. You made it clear that he could knock anytime, and he could sleep to the next room if he wanted to.

You lay on the bed, trying to rest.

You could not. Not with the Mandalorian out there. Too many memories, good and bad, about him, and with him.

After fifteen minutes, you heard a knock on the door.

You sit up immediately, "Come in."

The door creaks open, and Mando steps in. A full second passed before you stood up, and it was easily the longest second of your life.

"The child is asleep," he states. His voice slightly falters, revealing the possibility of a hidden intention.

You step closer to him, until there is so little space between the two of you, not even a scroll could fit in the middle.

You both know neither of you could hold back the unspoken silence. After all, you can't just pretend that what happened between the two of you never happened.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, his voice quivering. 

You have tried to be strong, but now a pearl-like tear slid down your face. You let your arm rest on his beskar helmet, where the line of his jaw would be. "Just curious," you manage to say, "of how you've changed. How you look like now, Din."

At the mention of his birth name, his breathing hitched. As far as he was concerned, you were the only one alive who knew his name, aside from the creed.

Years ago, the night before you left the guild, you were faced with a similar situation.

You told him you were going to leave. He met you in your quarters, and there, he had given you permission to lift his helmet off his head.

You had admired him. The first and only time you saw him, you noticed how beautiful he was, strong and mature features with a boyish smile. At that point, you were convinced the Maker accidentally made an angel in the place of a human.

You kissed him that night, all tongue and teeth clashing in desperation, and you had taken him to your bed, to have one last night with him. Limbs tangled and fingers entwined, he had declared his love to you, and you did, too. Neither you nor him regretted it. The only thing you wish you could do was take him with you when you escaped the guild. You left the day after, with a heavy heart and a memory that was damn near impossible to forget.

He was an old flame that died hard.

Only for you, he had broken his vow. 

You had kept it a secret since. 

You have to make sure it stayed a secret, or the Mandalorians will not let his put his helmet back on.

Now, his hands are on either side of his helmet. He slowly slides it up. "Why don't you find out?" He asks, almost taunting, challenging.

Before he could lift his helmet too far off, you gently brought both your hands over his, and pulled the steel dome back down.

"No," you let out a ghostly whisper. "Don't."

"Do you not lov— want me anymore?" His voice shatters. That's how you know that he is as heartbroken as you. "Is there someone else?" He asks, his voice straining.

"No," you say. The dam behind your eyes broke, tears dropping off your chin. It wasn't crying, no. It was the beginning of a desolate sobbing that came from a person who had built a wall over their emotions. "There has never been anyone but you, Din. There will never be."

He pushed his gloves off, the metal pieces carelessly clanging to the floor. His calloused fingers wiped your tears away, rubbing circles on your skin. "Then I ask for your permission to do this once again."

You step back, and his hand falls back hopelessly to his sides.

"I want to," you whisper, only barely audible, "But I will not. For your sake. I will not let you break your vow again."

"You did not mind when you held me that night, in Navarro." His voice is now softer, defeated. He will not ask again, if you do not wish to, but he had to know why.

You hold his hand. You step forward again, this time the gesture was more certain. "We were young. I did not understand what the Mandalorians meant back then. I am a scholar, Din. I learn, especially from my mistakes," Gently, you kisse his palm. It's a show of affection, and Din let you. 

By any means, you did not think he was a mistake. The night you spent wasn't a mistake either. The mistake was simply your lack of experience. Your lack of knowledge. 

You continue, "I did not respect the Mandalorians enough, then. I did not respect you enough. I do now."

He moves his hand, and you let it wander your facial features. 

His hand moves to your hair. He unties your headband, a piece of cloth that held your locks together. You hair spill on over your eyes, and he tucks them behind your ears.

Oh, you thought to yourself.

Your mouth opened a little, realizing his intentions. His finger went under your chin, lifting it up. "Do you know what I'm about to do?"

He asks, his voice as coarse as sand.

"Yes," you admit.

"Would you let me?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me?" He asks one last time.

You have never been more certain, "Yes."

Slowly, but surely, he covers your eyes with the cloth of your headband. He tied a knot on the back of your head, not too tight to hurt you, but tight enough so it wouldn't fall off.

He was a smart man, and still is.

"Can you see?" He asks.

"No," you reply honestly. Almost breathless, you thank the Maker that the questions he's been asking doesn't need more than a one-word answer at a time. 

"Can I take my helmet off now?"

"Yes," you sigh. You can hear him taking it off and you assumed he laid it on the floor. 

You gasp when you felt your lips against his, cold and desperate. Isolated, almost. You could feel the relief in his touch. He cups your cheeks, pulling you up towards him. What he looked like, you did not care. You know that this is him, at the fact alone is enough. It was the same person you made love to all those years ago. You know because you remember every waking moment of it.

You let the kiss become feverish and heated, placing your hand blindly on his shoulders and around his neck. You did not need to see him to know that he was smiling against your lips, that his cheeks was just as soaked with tears as yours.

Low groans unintentionally flutter out of his mouth, music to your ears.

Your hands make their way to his cheeks, caressing the rough skin. Stripped of your sight, you trail you fingers on his cheekbones and jawline to get a sense of what he looks like now. 

He pulls apart from the kiss, and you manage to hold on to his shoulders for support. You felt his hot breath against your temple, and you shiver because of it. 

"Are you sure you want this?" He asks, hopeful but uncertain. His voice is clear now, unmodulated and raw. Easier to read.

"I want this. You, Din," you whisper, raspy words dripping in desperation, "please."

Gently, his hands dance to your hips, gently squeezing it. He steps forward, pushing you until you feel your blanket and bed on the back of your feet.

He drags the invisible weight off your shoulders, making you sit down on your bed. 

You let go of him for a split second, feeling lost in the dark. Then, you hear the unmistakable clutter of beskar on the floor. Piece by piece, he placed it on the ground, his adrenaline pumping from the sight of you attentively waiting for his to strip himself off his heavy armor.

When the soft metallic noises stop and you felt his hands on your waist, you knew he was done. His hands went to your fabric belt, the only thing that held your robe together. Untying it, he pushes the article clothing off, until you were completely bare to him.

"My love." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, mouth trailing down to your nose, then to your lips. This time he doesn't hesitate, and he knocks the air straight out of your lungs. You return it with just as much passion, encouraging him to come closer. 

He opens his mouth, and you feel his tongue brush on yours, fiery and longing. He pushed even further, and you let him, until your the crown of your head hits the soft pillow beneath. You can feel him hover, shifting half of his weight on you. You let his mouth leave kisses down your neck, biting once in a while as he goes. 

It was hard to think of him as a battle-hardened bounty hunter now that he was over you, peppering loving kisses, making sure you were taken care of.

Your hands travel you his curly locks. You massage his scalp, tugging ever so slightly. You imagine his chestnut hair, the same color you've seen before, maybe with a few grey hairs given by time.

"Din," you manage to say, "Please. I can't take it anymore."

You feel him lick a stripe from your collarbone to your jawline, nipping at your skin. "Patience, my love," he mutters in your ear, pressing his teeth to you earlobe.

You shudder, heart thumping faster than your ribcage can handle.

You drag your hands down, raking his bare back. Caving into his touch, you feel your heat pooling between your legs.

You bite your lip instinctively, holding a moan. He does not say anything, but you knew it drove him crazy. 

His hand rub on your lips, and you take advantage by pressing your tone on the pad of his finger. 

"You're as beautiful as I remember," he admits. He sounds a bit sad. 

He should've gone to find you sooner. If he could turn back time, that was the only thing he'd change. 

You reply with a long purr.

His left palm runs down, squeezing your hips.

"No need for foreplay?" He asks, and you swear you could hear a hint of amusement in his voice, perhaps to cheer himself up. He probably noticed how wet you were, how submissive and desperate. 

"No," you yelp, feeling his length against your core, "Just make love to me." 

He takes the consent, sliding his cock into you. You mewl, trying your best to steady yourself, hands holding on to his back. He moves when you beg him to, rapidly slamming into you. It was slow at first, but your otherworldly moans encourage him to go faster.

His legs tangled with yours, he rocks up and down, providing counter-resistance. His rhythm ends you into cloud nine, sultry and irresistable. His hips move in a figure-8 motion, his pubic bone stimulating your bundle of nerves with explosive friction.

His breath was as heavy as yours. His lips latch on your shoulder, burying his neck into your shoulder. He does this to suppress his filthy moans so he doesn't wake the child. You, on the other hand, was forced to bite your lip, swallowing your groans.

"Din," you whisper, tone going up in pitch.

"I know, I know," he licks the shell of your ear, "Come with me."

His voice undid you, becoming the catalyst of your long-awaited satisfaction.

He rides your high, coming only a few seconds later. His heavy moans turning fulfilled breathing. 

He drops to the space next to you, your back pressed to his chest, his hands secured around your waist, you own hands on top of them, rubbing comforting circles.

The blindfold on you is still tightly wrapped, not losing its integrity at all. Frankly, you don't mind. You did not have to see him to enjoy his company. That's how much you trust him.

"Promise me," you say, your voice only barely audible, "that this is not the last time."

"I promise," he hums, his nose affectionately pressed into your hair.

You did not need to hear him say 'I love you' to know that he does.

-end

[notnctu]

rare - z.cl | dnly club ♡

♡ pairing: college!chenle x fem!reader ♡ word count: 953  ♡ genre: drabble, series! angsty ;-; ♡ quote: “ring ring missed call again” ♡ summary: dnyl club, where people who have lost their hearts end up. No one ever knows if someone or something sent them here or if just somehow wander here on their own. Some would say that their hearts were broken, some would say they lost it, some just wouldn’t know how or what to feel in the moment. Past this door, maybe they would be able to mend their hearts, find it, or just make a new one. One by one, each boy stood at the front door of the room, six in total, wondering what was past that door.

♡ a.n: hi hi !! i am author xuxi ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ nd i hope u enjoy reading this and pls do not reupload my moodboard as yours ty <3

She was in the library, like always. Chenle remembered when he first found how much she studied so endearing and sweet and would always respect her space when she needed it. He knew her studies were very important to her, it was one of her quirks that he had fallen for. Because Chenle didn’t focus on his study as much as she did, he had to admit that her habits have definitely influenced him for the better. 

Eventually though, it seemed as though the library was her new home. Text replies from her took longer and longer to receive, she snapped at him more often than not, even if he was just humming a tune. There were even times when Chenle just wanted her to take a break only for her to lash out and blame him for not caring for her grades. 

Slowly, he had stopped going to the library to study with her. Soon enough, her texts become a rare occurrence, she is rarely at her apartment and sometimes Chenle just lies on his bed, his phone hopelessly ringing to see if she would at least answer. 

Ring ring ring ring, missed call again. 

Chenle had gotten used to endless ringing. He resorted to just sending her mini-paragraphs that just reminded her to get some sleep, not over work herself, and remember that he is always just a text or call away. He wonders if he should send them anymore as he scrolls through messages between you two, sighing at how the texts only consist of his bright blue bubbles.

He never questioned their relationship. They were happy, she was just busy. But as the weeks go by, as his own midterms past and as his blue bubble texts continue to pile up in her inbox, he starts wondering if she would ever text him if he never texted her too. 

One day, before his final midterm, he decides to text her something he knows she will at least respond to at one point. 

Chenle: hey, im bringing you snacks, you’re at the library right? same room? 

He has even gotten so used to her extremely late messages, he knows to text her before his own classes or midterms so that he would be able to get a response while he was distracted doing other things. After spending a two whole hours on his math midterm, he isn’t surprised to see that she had only responded twenty minutes ago. 

Her: yea, ty babe <3 

At least she still had the effort to add the heart, he sighed to himself, using his fingers to count how many days it’s been seen they have seen each other. Realizing it has been a whole two weeks, he starts pondering if now is finally the time to address the problem. 

But he still could barely tell if this even was a problem. His friends would always tell him that he’s barely in a relationship, that she didn’t even try to spend time with her, that he was just being dragged along. They always told him he deserved better, but Chenle could never consider that thought, believing there was no such thing as ‘deserving better’. 

He thought about her smile, how cute her dimples were. He remembers how amazingly warm she was when they cuddled, how her laugh would light up an entire room. He remembered how much he admired her dedication and motivation. Whether it be something as small as cooking dinner for the two of them one day or planning an entire weekend trip together. Now he wonders if she even eats dinner anymore.

As he is walking through the library and up the stairs to her favorite study room, he can’t even recall the last time they had dinner together. But he still remembers where that dreaded room was, where they would fight, where she would sit alone, making him worry if she was eating her meals or if she was freezing from the ac. 

“Hey,” he tried to smile at her as he opened the door to the study room. “You ready for a small break?” 

He’s only met with a simple nod. He sighs to himself again, reminiscing on how he used to find this scene so adorable. He loved how she was organized. He remembered how she had to have her computer and books lined up perfectly and her pencil bag be parallel on the left side of her laptop. It was so particular and neat, and her cute pastel stationary and stickers on her laptop added to the adorableness. But today, it was just the same agonizing scene that he hated seeing over and over again.

She raised her eyebrow at him, taking out one of her airpods. He hadn’t seen her eyes stare into his for so long that he almost felt overwhelmed. 

“Is there something you need?” She asks, and he realizes that she didn’t even hear his greetings. 

“Oh, nothing, I just thought maybe you could use a break, I just finished my midterm today too.” The conversation sounded so unfamiliar, almost as if you guys had only met today. 

“Babe, you know I can’t. I have my midterm in three days.” She sighs, feeling stressed and he couldn’t tell if it was because of him or the material. 

“I mean, how about for just a few minutes, we haven’t seen each other in two weeks.” He tries again, but his sweaty palms can already feel her anger coming. 

“Chenle, please, I promise we can do whatever you want after finals okay?” She’s frustrated, he can hear in the huff of her voice. 

“You said that last finals week.”

And the silence stays for a while. 

[im-the-punk-who]

Fanfic author tag game!

tagged by: @halewoods ! <3 and I’m actually remembering to do this one!

tagging: gosh....who hasnt done this?? @queer-crusader, @herself-nyc, @riotsofbloom, @lesbians4luke and ilke?? anyone else who wants to??

Where you post: AO3, I also usually cross-post drabbles here. I have an ff.net account but it’s uhhhhh cursed knowledge and you have to be level known-me-for-a-decade to have access to my old Newsies self-insert fics.

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos): Memories, Like Water, Can Be Tainted or Distilled; Sometimes Will Evaporate (473), by a LARGE margin but also, it’s been up for like 7 years at this point and it’s Stucky xD My more recent most-kudos is also one of my personal faves, Between Breath and Love, I Choose Him (139).

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos): LMAO it’s funny you think I actually finish things. Okay so this is Play, Boys (130) - my Umbrella Academy eternal WIP that I’ve mostly abandoned. Sad Face, because I actually really loved it - just completely lost inspiration.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: Oh god. UHHHHH I have a bunch? Honestly Memories, Like Water, Can Be Tainted or Distilled; Sometimes Will Evaporate is quite good and something I’m very proud of. a smell that is loathesome to some is sweet to others is stupid and cute and I love it and also it’s nsfw so like. Up My Alley. Into The Blinding Sun is also like....listen I just love stories where Thomas is in love and gets flustered by how much he likes James okay?? And then of course, my passion project, Doubting Thomas which once it’s finished and reuploaded will easily take the cake in terms of like, every metric to rate my fondness of fanfics I’ve written.

Fic you were nervous to post: So honestly? Sometimes A Family As uhhhh anyone knows I have a REAL complicated relationship with the silver-centric part of the fandom and for a long time it’s stopped me from publishing ANY of my writing that deals with him. This is the, I suppose tamest of them but I was still like, having a minor panic attack while posting it. xD

How do you choose your titles?: I usually like poems, or quotes that have to deal with the subject matter. (Or, made up titles that sound like a quote that would deal with the subject matter.) Also, song titles if the song inspired the fic (Doubting Thomas, Unsteady, etc.)

Do you outline?: Not really? For one shots I tend to just have the idea in my head and write it all down, then flesh out and edit. For Doubting Thomas, I had a basic idea of what I wanted to do and wrote key scenes first, then have been filling in as I go.

# Complete: What....counts......as...complete? XD So I have 23 “marked” complete on AO3. I have Of my five “wips” I’ve posted, only 2 are likely to be completed. Listen I’m an Aries. I’m an Aries. I’m sorry.

# In-Progress: ..........................................I have 18 WIPS with their own google doc, and 15 in my “Prompt drafts” doc where I put ideas that I’ve fleshed out but haven’t started editing yet. I’M AN ARIES OKAY. AN ARIES!!!!!!

Coming soon/not yet started: Gosh. Okay so the main ones are “Many Hands Make Light Work” and “Spice”, and also that AU I have based on the Arthurian Green Giant myth. Many Hands is a modern-AU PWP multi fic where Thomas is a good Dom and arranges for a, shall we say, stress outlet involving James and the employees of The Walrus, the gay bar they co-own. Spice is a Flinthams figging fic because that’s just who I am as a person. And then of course there’s my Madi-backstory fic that I’ve started the first two chapters of that I love.

Prompts?: PLEASE. I don’t always answer them, sometimes they get shoved into that Wips-gdoc but sometimes!! I do!!!! And I love getting them!

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: Easily Doubting Thomas. It’s by a MARGIN my longest fic I’ve ever written(currently sitting at 60k) and also a really personal story that I love a LOT and which involves a lot of detail around my post-canon headcanons and how I would have loved to see the show end/deal with, and also me getting to nerd out about history and how it intersects with Black Sails. 

[abusybuzzingbee]

Pilot | Supernatural Season 1 Episode 1 Rewrite | Dean x Reader

A/N:::: Hello!! I am a royal dumbass and just accidentally deleted my whole tumblr. I was trying to get rid of my main account and accidentally got rid of it all!! So, this is bee from @abusybuzzingbee coming back at you with reuploads of my supernatural rewrites. So sorry to all of my supporters for my tomfoolery.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Major Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader, Sam Winchester

Warnings: Canon violence, language, Dean and the reader being assholes to each other, this is going to be the slowest burn that ever did burn, so buckle up!

Word Count: 7,643

Summary: The reader is a lonely young hunter on the road to Jericho, California where she bumps into two boys on the search for their father.

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Season 1 Masterlist

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn.’

‘Funny how the sun’s just rising,’ you thought.

‘And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on.’

The sound of the familiar tune of “Goodbye Stranger” coming from the radio of your new hijacked wheels-- a 2002 Toyota Camry, to be exact-- put a smile on your face.

‘Like a king without a castle

Like a queen without a throne

I’m an early morning lover

And I must be moving on.’

As you drove along a remote highway on the way to Jericho, California, you threw a glance to the wind lightly rustling the leaves of the trees outside of your driver’s side mirror.

‘Now I believe in what you say

Is the undisputed truth.’

Scenes such as this have always calmed you. The first beams of light stretching up from over the horizon, the vivid colors of the tree leaves, the hum of the radio of your newest car, and the sound of your tires gliding over the pavement. 

‘But I have to have things my own way

To keep me in my youth.’

These road trips in between hunts were the only taste you had ever had of a normal life. Not that you wanted a normal life, you think you would be too bored in the suburbs. However, it is comforting to have a small break from monsters while driving from place to place to relax.

‘Like a ship without an anchor

Like a slave without a chain

Just a thought of those sweet ladies

Sends a shiver through my veins.’

The latest case you had picked up on was the disappearance of several men on Centennial Highway in Jericho. 

‘And I will go on shining

Shining like brand new

I’ll never look behind me

My troubles will be few.’

The last disappearance had been some kid named Troy. Poor bastard.

You had very little knowledge of what you were walking into. You decided that you would head to the scene of the crime to try and get a better idea of what you were dealing with.

‘Goodbye stranger

It’s been nice

Hope you find your paradise

Tried to see your point of view

Hope your dreams will all come true.’

Just a few more hours and you’d be there.

‘Goodbye Mary, goodbye Jane--’

You turned the music up just a bit as you picked up your speed on the highway and thought about my last successful hunt in Alexandria, Louisiana. 

‘Will we ever meet again?’

You were proud of how you did on that hunt, but it was freeing to leave towns you had previously hunted in in your rearview mirror.

‘Feel no sorrow, feel no shame--’

It wasn’t a matter of feeling guilty about what you had done while you were in that town; you had nothing to feel guilty about. It just always hurt you to think of the sad faces of the people who had already lost family members before you got there to do your job.

‘Come tomorrow, feel no pain--’

There would always be that little bit of trauma that you carried with you because of all you had seen on hunts, but c’est la vie.

‘Sweet devotion (Goodbye, Mary)

It’s not for me (Goodbye, Jane).’

You let your mind go blank and get completely absorbed in the music as you continued to drive along.

‘Just give me motion (Will we ever)

To set me free (Meet again?)’

Music was the one constant in your life that kept you grounded. It was so powerful. Music could express so many feelings and bring those same emotions out of its listeners.

‘In the land and the ocean (Feel no sorrow)

Far away (Feel no shame)--’

You loved oldies music. From ‘70′s hippie music to ‘80′s rock, all the way back to Edith Piaf in the 1940′s. 

‘It’s the life I’ve chosen (Come tomorrow)

Every day (Feel no pain)’

You wished you had the time to sit down for long enough to learn to play an instrument. There was a whole list of things you wanted to learn to play including piano, guitar, ukelele, and drums. 

‘Maybe one day,’ you thought.

‘So goodbye, Mary (Goodbye, Mary)

Goodbye, Jane (Goodbye, Jane)

Will we ever (Will we ever)

Meet again? (Meet again?)’

**** 

A few hours later, you were parked on Sylvania Bridge in Jericho. You had stopped a few miles back at a gas station to change into an outfit that looked a little more professional than a pair of baggy sweatpants and a t-shirt and opted for one of the many police uniforms you carried around with you. This one was a federal marshal suit. Included the khakis, shirt with a little police badge on the pocket, and a belt with your fake badge on it. It was your mom’s. She threw herself into the many roles she played on the job and made sure she had the costumes to fit the part. Once she passed, you just couldn’t let them go.

You hopped out of the car and walked over to the scene of the crime. You noticed two boys that looked about my age talking to one of the deputies on site. You watched them flash badges to the deputy, but neither was in uniform. 

‘Oh, boy.’

"You two are a little young for marshals, aren't you?” you heard the deputy remark as you walked up to them. 

“Thanks, that’s awfully kind of you,” the shorter guy laughed. 

'That’s my cue,’ you thought.

“Hiya, fellas,” you smiled brightly, glancing between the three of them.

The two guys turned back to look at you. The shorter one pointed at himself with a questioning look on his face directed at you. You eyed him, attempting to tell him to just go with it. 

“Why aren’t you two in uniform?” you asked, standing next to the taller boy and glancing between the two of them. You looked at the deputy. “Sorry to have them bothering you. New hires,” you lied, rolling your eyes. “I’m supposed to oversee how they handle this case.”

“Mm-hmm...” the deputy said, squinting at you. He was clearly suspicious.

I extended my right hand to the deputy and reached for my badge with the other. “I’m Agent Nicks, nice to meet you.” I showed him my badge.

“Deputy Jaffe.” He shook my hand and nodded at my badge.

“Man, you guys can’t catch a break. You just had another killing like this, right?” I nodded my head at Troy’s car at the center of the crime scene as I spoke. 

“Yeah, that's right. About a mile up the road. There've been others before that,” the deputy spoke as I walked over to the car, the two boys trailing behind me.

“So, this victim, you knew him?” The taller boy questioned.

The deputy nodded. “Town like this, everybody knows everybody.”

The shorter boy circled the car once and stopped between the taller boy and I. “Any connection between the victims, besides that they're all men?” he asked.

“No,” Jaffe answered, “Not so far as we can tell.”

“So what's the theory?” The taller guy asked.

“Honestly, we don't know. Serial murder? Kidnapping ring?”

“Well, that is exactly the kind of crack police work I'd expect out of you guys,” the shorter guy quipped.

Your eyes widened as you watched the deputy’s incredulous expression. You didn’t like this kid already. You bit back a snicker when the dude who was with him stomped on his foot.

“Thank you for your time. Gentlemen,” the tall guy nodded.

You turned to follow your two “colleagues” away from the crime scene. The shorter guy smacked the taller one on the back of the head.

“Ow! What was that for?” 

“Why'd you have to step on my foot?”

“Why do you have to talk to the police like that?”

The two men realized you were following them and turned to look at you.

“Uh, can we help you?” the shorter one asked.

“No,” you replied. “I’ll be out of your hair in a second. I just think it’d be a little weird if I left the scene of the crime without regrouping with my ‘proteges’ first.”

The taller one nodded. It became clear to you he was the sensible one of the two.

“About that--” the shorter one came back, implying that you should explain yourself.

“Yeah, sorry for stepping all over your hunt.”

The two seemed in disbelief that you had figured out their secret.

“Takes one to know one,” You snickered. “I had to get the same information you two did, and it’d look really weird if two rounds of federal marshals came through for one case. I’m (Y/N), by the way.” You stuck out your hand for the two of them to shake.

The taller one took it first. “I’m Sam,” he smiled, “that’s my brother, Dean.” 

You shook Dean’s hand after Sam’s.

“You shake hands?” Dean asked.

You shrugged with a tilt of your head to the side.

“Weird.”

You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I got this hunt under control if you boys wanna hit the road.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady,” Dean started, “We were here first.”

“Geez, sorry. I thought I was doing you guys a favor by letting you hit the road.”

“Sorry,” Sam spoke for his brother, “We’re looking for our dad. The only information we have on where he could be is here, so we’ve got this covered.”

You nodded. “I hope you find him soon. Good meeting you two.” You turned to leave.

“Wait,” Sam called after you. “Three heads are better than two. We could use your help.”

Dean was quick to cut in. “No, no we do not--”

“What?” you asked, smirking. “You don’t like me Dean-o?”

He opened his mouth to respond, obviously trying to think of something to say. He came up blank after a few seconds.

You chuckled. “I’m down to help.”

Sam smiled brightly at you. “Great!” 

You glanced over Sam’s shoulder and your jaw clenched. Sam turned to follow your gaze.

The sheriff was talking to two FBI agents. He looked at you three pointedly. “Can I help you kids?”

“No, sir, we were just leaving,” Dean told him. He then nodded at the FBI agents as they walked past your trio. “Agent Mulder. Agent Scully.”

The three of you headed past the sheriff, whose gaze you could feel piercing through your back.

You noticed the 1967 Impala parked a little farther back than your car, wondering how you could have missed it when you pulled up to the scene.

“Aw, cool!” you exclaimed, quickly walking over to it. “Sweet ride.”  You ran your hand over the hood.

“Hey,” Dean called, “Hands off my baby.”

“You dating a car, Grumpy?” you smirked. 

He rolled his eyes at you. 

“Those your wheels over there?” Sam asked. He nodded towards your Camry.

“Unfortunately. Had to jack that car a few states back,” you responded.

Sam nodded. “You can catch a ride back with us if you want.”

Dean tossed a look at his brother.

“Cool, thanks,” you answered, smiling. “Let me just pull it off the road into some trees or something.”

***

"Who are we looking for again?” you asked the boys as you strolled around town. You had ditched your federal marshal getup and left it along with the rest of your stuff in the back of Dean’s car. 

Dean scoffed at your question.

“Hey, you didn’t answer the first time I asked, so I had to do it again,” you threw back.

“Troy’s girlfriend,” Sam answered.

“Thank you, Sam.” You threw a pointed look at Dean. He just turned his face away from you.

A few paces down from your pack, a young girl with brown hair was putting missing posters up with Troy’s face on them. 

"I'll bet you that's her,” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah,” Sam affirmed.

Your group walked up to her as Dean spoke, “You must be Amy.”

“Yeah,” she answered plainly.

“Yeah, Troy told us about you. We're his uncles. I'm Dean, this is Sammy.”

“And who’s that?” Amy glanced at you.

“I’m (Y/N). A friend of theirs.”

Amy nodded, looking back to Sam and Dean. “He never mentioned you to me.” She began to walk away with her posters.

Dean was quick to follow her. “Well, that's Troy, I guess. We're not around much, we're up in Modesto.”

“So, we're looking for him too, and we're kinda asking around,” Sam continued for Dean.

A friend of Amy’s came up to her and asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

Once Amy responded with a simple, “Yeah,” her friend stayed with her.

"You mind if we ask you a couple questions?” I asked Amy.

***

You, Amy’s friend, Rachel, and Amy were packed into one side of a diner booth while Sam and Dean sat opposite you.  

Amy spoke about what happened the night Troy went “missing.” “I was on the phone with Troy. He was driving home. He said he would call me right back, and...he never did.”

“He didn't say anything strange, or out of the ordinary?” Sam asked.

Amy shook her head. “No. Nothing I can remember.”

You glanced at the pentagram pendant she was wearing. “I like your necklace.”

“Troy gave it to me. Mostly to scare my parents with all that devil stuff,” Amy laughed. 

You smiled. “Actually, it means just the opposite. A pentagram is protection against evil. Really powerful. I mean, if you believe in that kind of thing.” 

“Okay,” Dean cut in. “Thank you, Unsolved Mysteries.”

You rolled your eyes at him while he took his arm off of the back of Sam’s seat and leaned forward on his elbows. “Here's the deal, ladies. The way Troy disappeared, something's not right. So if you've heard anything...” he trailed off, waiting for them to answer.

Amy and Rachel glanced between each other. 

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Well, it's just,” Rachel began, “I mean, with all these guys going missing, people talk."

“About?” You questioned turning a bit more inward to Rachel. 

“It's kind of this local legend. This one girl? She got murdered out on Centennial, like decades ago,” Rachel stated.

You watched Rachel attentively, nodding.

“Well, supposedly she's still out there. She hitchhikes, and whoever picks her up? Well, they disappear forever.”

You glanced at the boys with a quirked eyebrow.

***

Dean typed away on the library computer on the archive search page for the Jericho Herald. He had the words “Female Murder Hitchhiking" typed into the search bar. When he pressed enter, nothing came up. Dean replaced “Hitchhiking” with “Centennial Highway,” and once again, crickets. 

“Wait a minute,” Sam started, “So angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied as if it was obvious.

“Well, maybe it’s not murder,” Sam stated.

“Ohhh,” you started, “I’m pickin’ up what you’re puttin’ down.” You knew Sam was thinking suicide.

Sam smiled at you.

“Let me try,” Sam told Dean.

“I got it,” Dean came back.

Sam shoved Dean out of the chair and took over.

“Dude!” Dean hit Sam on the shoulder. “You're such a control freak.”

You laughed at their banter.

“Can it, (Y/N),” Dean told you.

“So, what I can’t laugh?”

“No, no, you can’t.”

“I literally just met you and I’ve had it up to here--” you flattened your hand and put it up by your eyebrow, “--with you already--”

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart,” Dean cut you off. 

“You two wanna stop?” Sam asked. “Come look at this.”

Just as you thought, Sam had put “suicide” in place of “murder” in the search bar.

Sam snapped you out of your thoughts by saying, “This was 1981. Constance Welch, twenty-four years old, jumps off Sylvania Bridge, drowns in the river.”

“Does it say why she did it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” you started, leaning over Sam’s shoulder to get a better look at the screen, “An hour before they found her, she calls 911. Apparently, her two little kids are in the bathtub. She leaves them alone for a minute, and when she comes back, they aren't breathing. Both die.”

Something about the situation did not sit right with you; it sounded familiar. 

Sam continued reading. “‘ 'Our babies were gone, and Constance just couldn't bear it,' said husband Joseph Welch.’”

“The bridge look familiar to you?” Dean pointed out, looking at a picture of a man-- presumably Constance’s husband-- crying standing next to Sylvania Bridge.

“Well, we know where we’re headed,” you commented, walking toward the exit of the library. You could feel Dean’s eyes on you as you left.

***

By the time you finally got to Sylvania Bridge, it was late at night. You and the boys had stopped for a bite to eat before going back to the bridge. Troy’s car had long since been removed, the crime scene completely cleared out. 

Dean looked out over the edge of the bridge, standing next to you and Sam. “So this is where Constance took the swan dive.”

“So you think Dad would have been here?” Sam looked over at his brother.

"Well, he's chasing the same story and we're chasing him.” Dean continued down the bridge, the taller boy trailing behind him.

“Okay, so now what?”

“Now we keep digging until we find him. Might take a while.”

Sam stopped. “Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—”

The brunet stopped, turning around. “Monday. Right. The interview.” Aggravation was clear in his tone.

“Yeah.”

You thought it best to take a step back while they had this discussion.

"Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?” Dean’s tone got a bit more of an edge to it.

“Maybe. Why not?” Sam pushed back.

“Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?”

Sam stepped closer to Dean. “No, and she's not ever going to know.”

The older boy did not back down. “Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.” He turned around and kept walking.

Sam followed him, his arms out in question. “And who's that?”

“You're one of us.” Dean gestured to himself and back to you staying several paces back,

Sam hurried to get in front of his brother. “No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.”

“You have a responsibility to—”

“To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.”

When Dean grabbed his brother by the collar and shoved him against the bridge, you jumped into action.

“Hey, knock it off, Dean.”

“(Y/N)--” Dean warned, giving you a sideways glare. He looked back at Sam. “Don't talk about her like that.” He let Sam go and walked away from him.

You hurried over to Sam. “You okay?” You put your hand on his shoulder and met his hazel eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Guys,” Dean called.

You looked to Dean who stared down to the railing at the edge of the bridge.

“Constance,” you let out, coming to stand next to Dean.

Constance looked back at your group before stepping off of the railing.

The three of you ran to the railing. 

“Where'd she go?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know, wanna jump down there and find out?” you sassed.

Dean glared at you as the sound of the Impala’s engine roared behind you.

The older Winchester flipped around. “What the—” 

Sam wheeled around, too. “Who's driving your car?” 

Dean pulled the keys out of his pocket and jingled them, his green eyes never leaving the Impala.

The car jerked into motion, barrelling over the bridge straight toward you and the Winchesters.

“Go! Go!” you yelled, turning and sprinting away.

Dean and Sam sped ahead of you, and you noticed the car gaining on you. Your heart raced and your breathing was labored. The car was way too close for comfort and left you with just one option.

You threw yourself over the railing, just barely managing to hang onto the edge of the bridge.

You heard the car engine stop just as something-- or someone-- hit the water.

You pulled yourself back over the railing and noticed Sam sitting on the railing calling for Dean.

You rushed over to Sam, leaning over the railing to try to find Dean.

He popped up a second later, his usually spikey hair flattened to his head with mud. In fact, his whole body was covered in mud.

“You okay?” You called down to him.

Dean sarcastically held up a thumb and pursed his lips. 

“Hey, I’m just checking on you, don’t be an ass,” you yelled back, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Fuck off,” he grunted, annoyed.

Sam laughed and got back onto the bridge.

You headed over to the Impala and checked it over, grabbing a towel out of your bag.

Dean had managed to climb back onto the bridge and made his way over to his baby. He opened the car’s hood and poked around to see if Constance had damaged it at all. After a moment, he shut the hood and leaned on it.

“Your car all right?” you heard Sam ask are you walked over to Dean with the towel.

“Yeah, whatever she did to it, seems all right now. That Constance chick, what a bitch!” He yelled at the spirit. 

You put the towel on Dean’s head and started to dry his hair off when he jerked away from you.

“What are you doing?”

You were quick to put the towel back on his head. “Helping.”

The dirty blond ripped the towel out of your hands. “I got it.”

“Fine.” You raised your hands up in surrender. You leaned against the car next to Dean. “You know, I been thinkin’.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Shut up, Dean. I’m serious.” You paused, taking in a breath. “Constance is a woman in white.”

Sam pursed his lips, shrugging. “Makes sense. I mean, the dead kids, suicide, killing unfaithful men.”

“Maybe.” The older Winchester’s monotone voice was followed by silence. A silence that was broken a few moments later by Sam.

“You smell like a toilet.”

You scrunched up your nose and giggled. 

“Can it, (Y/N).”

***

“You guys having a reunion or something?” the clerk asked, looking at the credit card Dean had placed on the motel’s front desk.

Sam cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“I had another guy, Burt Aframian. He came and bought out a room for the whole month.”

Dean looked over to his brother briefly and then turns his head back to the clerk. “What room’s he in?”

“Listen, kid, I can’t go around giving out people’s room numbers.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

You stepped out from behind the two boys. “Oh, please sir? He’s family, and we haven’t seen him in a while.” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.”

***

“That how you get all the guys?”

“What?” you asked, not bothering to face Dean to answer his question. The two of you were stationed outside of John Winchester's room playing lookout while Sam picked the lock on the door.

“You know what I mean. I saw you makin’ eyes at the clerk.”

“Yeah, to get a room number.” You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “And it worked, didn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. It worked real well.” He turned to face you.

“You know, you don’t have to be such a dick all the time. I met you yesterday and have given you no reason not to like me. What’s your deal?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, my plate is kind of full. I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened to my dad. I have no idea whether he’s alive, dead, or captured, and he’s the only parent I have left. And my little brother is solely concerned about getting back to fucking Stanford, and I’m not even sure he cares about what happened to our dad. And now, enter (Y/N) trying to take over a hunt that is the only tie I have to my dad.” Dean’s face was incredibly close to yours.

Sam had long since gone into the room and decided to leave the two of you alone to hash out your frustrations.

You held your ground, but your voice took on less of an angry tone. You were strictly playing defense at this point. “But I wasn’t trying to take it over to be mean, and as soon as you got so defensive about the hunt, I backed down and just offered to help--”

“Yeah, and I didn't want your help. Sam was the one who let you in, probably hoping that if you were here he could shag ass back to Stanford. So forgive me if I’m a little on edge.” He pulled his face away from yours, wheeling around to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the fact that I’ve helped you guys more than I’ve hurt you. I pulled your asses out of a crack when you were talking to the police. I was the one who figured out what kind of a spook we’re dealing with here. I want you to find your dad. I really do. But I also want you to stop being so awful to me. And it’s just me specifically!” You threw your arms up in the air. At some point during the first part of your rant, Dean had looked back at you over his shoulder. “You’re so nice to Sam--I mean, about as nice as brothers are to each other-- and I can tell you care about him. I can tell you have a good heart. So why choose to be an ass?”

When Dean didn’t answer, you shook your head. “Whatever. I’m leaving.” You clutched your duffel bag strap on your shoulder tightly, your knuckles turning white.

“To go where?”

“Away. You win. Ya got what you wanted.”

“Wait, (Y/N)--”

“Tell Sam I said ‘bye.’”

***

The heat of midday had your baby hairs stuck to your head with sweat. You had been walking for a while now, just trying to find somewhere remote enough that you could steal a car without getting seen. 

You hiked along a highway surrounded by dense trees, the rustling sound of the green leaves filling your head. You took a deep breath, allowing peace to wash over you. You never had to see Dean Winchester again, although you would miss Sam. He was the closest thing to a friend you’ve had in a while. 

A familiar engine roar overpowered the sound of the rustling you had been hearing. The car pulled off of the highway just behind you, coming to a stop. 

You took your bottom lip in your mouth under your top one, closing your eyes and stopping your walk.

You heard the opening and closing of the car’s door as you turned around, a small smile on your lips.

“You know,” Sam started, walking toward you, “It’s kind of rude to leave without saying ‘goodbye.’“ 

You let out a laugh. “Hey, Sam.”

He pulled you into a quick hug. “Hey. I heard what happened.”

You looked down at the mixture of grass and gravel below your combat boots. “Yeah.”

“And I know you probably never wanna see Dean’s face again, but we need your help. I do, and he does, whether he wants to admit it or not. We can all get out of here a lot quicker if we work together. You can get away from Dean, I can get back to Stanford, and Dean can find our dad.”

“Where is Dean?”

“Arrested.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, nodding.  “Okay.” You put on a smile. “What now?”

***

Much later in the day, after going to visit Joseph Welch, you and Sam were sitting in a diner grabbing a bite to eat. The both of you were brainstorming what to do to get Dean out of jail and what to do about that Constance bitch. The conversation had shifted from those two topics once you had a solid plan to simply small talk between friends.

“So what’s your story?” you asked, taking a bite out of one of your fries.

“What?”

“I picked up from conversations between you and Dean over the past two days and the very loud conversation I had with your brother earlier that you left hunting to go to Stanford. What happened there?”

Sam chuckled, looking down. 

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. I crossed a line,” you told him sincerely. You stared at your ketchup. 

“No, no,” he responded. He took in a sharp breath. “My dad and I had a big blowout fight before I left for college. He told me if I left for college to never come back. Haven’t talked to him in two years.” He took a bite of his salad after he finished talking.

“Oh,” you said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

You decided to change the subject. “Alright, we’ve let Dean rot long enough. I’m gonna go call the police.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll get the check.” 

You walked outside of the diner, heading to the payphone you spotted at the entrance of the parking lot. You picked it up and dialed ‘9-1-1.’

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

You made your voice frantic, forcing tears to well up in your eyes. “My-My husband! He’s been shot!”

“Ma’am, calm down for me, okay? Where are you?”

You screamed. “He- He just shot another guy! Oh, my god!”

“Ma’am, where are you?”

“I’m on Whiteford Road,” you said. “Please, please, please hurry!”

“Okay, okay, um, w-we’re sending a unit out to you now. Can you stay on the line for me?”

“No, no! Please!” you cried. “Plea--” You cut yourself off and hung up the phone. 

You noticed Sam standing next to you using one of his forearms to hold the door open as he leaned on the door frame. 

“What?”

“That was damn good acting,” he noted.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “I actually wanted to be an actress growing up.”

“Hunting got in the way,” Sam figured.

“Exactly. But, acting is kind of part of the job. Gotta be real good at lying and pretending to be feds,” you shrugged, making light of the situation.

A comfortable silence blanketed you and Sam as you lamented over what life could’ve been for you. You sucked in a breath and said, “We better get going. To Constance!”

***

Sam’s phone ringing pulled the two of you out of a conversation about his girlfriend, Jess, and his life at Stanford. 

Sam looked at the caller ID, shrugging at you when he didn’t recognize it.

“Fake 911 phone call? Sammy, I don't know, that's pretty illegal,” you could hear Dean jest through the phone.

The brunet grinned. “It was (Y/N), actually.”

He paused. “(Y/N)? She’s with you?”

You took Sam’s phone out of his hands and said, “Yup. Hi, Dean,” into the receiver. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You gave the phone back to Sam. 

The older Winchester changed the topic from you to something else. “Listen, we gotta talk.” 

“Tell me about it,” Sam jumped in. “So the husband was unfaithful. We are dealing with a woman in white. And she's buried behind her old house, so that should have been Dad's next stop--”

His brother tried to cut him off. “Sammy, would you shut up for a second?”

“--I just can't figure out why Dad hasn't destroyed the corpse yet.”

“Well, that's what I'm trying to tell you. He's gone. Dad left Jericho.”

Sam threw a look to you before glancing back to the road. “What? How do you know?”

“I've got his journal,” you heard the dirty blond explain.

“He doesn't go anywhere without that thing.”

“Yeah, well, he did this time.”

“What's it say?”

“Ah, the same old ex-Marine crap, when he wants to let us know where he's going.”

‘Ex-Marine crap?’ you thought to yourself.

Sam noticed your puzzled expression and directed toward you, “Coordinates.” He spoke his following words to Dean. “Where to?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

You propped your head up on your elbow on the passenger’s side door, legs tossed in an ‘L’ shape on the seat beside you. You stared out of the window into the dark night, taking in the gloomy appearance of the dead trees and fallen leaves. 

The younger Winchester shook his head. “I don't understand. I mean, what could be so important that Dad would just skip out in the middle of a job?”

A figure in the road caught your eye, causing you to squint and look out the windshield. 

Sam was still rambling to his brother. “Dean, what the hell is going on?”

You registered that Constance was in the road. “Sam, look out!” you shrieked.

Sam looked up, dropping the phone and slamming the brakes hard. You had to brace yourself on the dashboard in front of you, your body jerking forward and backward in your seat. 

Constance was gone, and you and Sam tried to catch your breaths. 

“Sam? Sam!” Dean’s voice came through the phone.

You picked up the phone from under the glove box. Dean had hung up before you got the chance to tell him Sam was alright.

You turned to the brunet, who swallowed hard and looked into the backseat through the rearview mirror.

You whirled around to look in the backseat, and there Constance was. “Take me home,” she ordered. She looked directly at you. “Take me home!”

“No,” you stated firmly, holding her gaze. 

Constance glared back at you as you heard the doors of the car lock. You wheel around in your seat and try to reopen them. Suddenly, your body was thrust back into the seat as the car began to drive. 

“Sam?” you yelled over the roar of the engine.

“That’s not me!” He tried to grab the steering wheel to drive, but Constance wouldn’t let him. 

You continued to struggle with the doors until the two-- well, three, counting Constance-- of you pulled up to an abandoned house, presumably the Welches’ old house. The windows on both of the two floors had been covered with boards, the paint was peeling off of the wood slats, and the screen door had been ripped. The house looked like it was falling apart more and more with every passing day. It had the stereotypical appearance of a horror movie house.

The engine of the Impala shut off.

“Don't do this,” the younger Winchester pleaded.

Constance flickered in the backseat. “I can never go home,” she moaned, her voice sad.

As if a switch had been flipped in your brain, your face shifted from scared to enlightened. “You're scared to go home.” You turned to look in the back seat, but Constance was gone. As soon as you turned back around, you noticed Constance in between you and Sam on the leather bench seat. 

You jumped, back pressed against the passenger’s side door. Constance climbed on Sam’s lap, shoving him back against the seat hard enough to tilt it backward. 

You tried to lunge for Constance, but she shoved you against the Impala’s door hard enough with a flick of her wrist to send the door flying open and you sailing through the air.

“(Y/N)!” You heard Sam yell.

You skidded to a halt on the rocky gravel surrounding the house, feeling your arms and legs get cut up. The wind was knocked out of you, and your head bounced against the small rocks. 

“Ow,” you groaned, trying to get up. You saw Constance had closed the passenger’s side door once more, and through the window could see her kissing Sam as he reached for the keys.

Another thing you saw was a figure appearing on the other side of the car through the driver’s side window. You hoped to god it was Dean.

You heard whoever it was fire a shot as Sam screamed in what seemed to be pain, so you immediately ducked. A few more shots were fired and you felt safe enough to raise your head.

You scrambled to your feet when you saw the Impala go careening through the porch and into the old Welch house. You ran into the house, being as careful as you could to avoid any of the broken pieces of wood and furniture the car had left in its path.

Dean was quick to follow you, calling out to his younger brother. “You okay?”

Sam groaned. “I think...”

“Can you move?” you asked, leaning through the passenger’s window. You looked him over for serious injury.

“Yeah,” he told you. He reached a hand out to his brother. “Help me?”

You stepped to the side as Dean pulled Sam out through the rolled-down window. 

You noticed Constance picking up a picture frame of her and her children that had fallen to the ground. 

She turned her attention from the picture to you and met your eyes.

She pinned you and the boys against the Impala with a bureau. It hit the boys in their pelvis but nailed you right in the stomach. You groaned in pain, desperately trying to push it off of you. 

You stopped your struggle when a sound caught your ear. It sounded like liquid trickling and watched as a stream of water just thick enough to cover each step cascaded to the ground.  You followed the stream to the top of the stairs to see the dark silhouettes of a little girl and a little boy holding hands.

“You've come home to us, Mommy,” they spoke in chorus.

Constance looked distraught as she got closer to the stairs. They were suddenly gone from the stairs and appeared behind her, hugging her and looking up at her with warm yet slightly disturbing smiles. 

Constance screamed, and she and her children melted to the floor flickering between apparitions of skinless and skeletal forms of humans. They melted into a puddle of an electric purple goo that seeped through the floorboards as the ringing in your ears from Constance’s shrieks subsided. 

You and the Winchesters shoved the bureau over, and you dusted off your hands as Dean spoke.

“So this is where she drowned her kids.”

“That's why she could never go home. She was too scared to face them,” Sam told you and his brother.

“You found her weak spot. Nice work, Sammy.” Dean slapped him on the chest where holes had been burned through his shirt that you were assumed were the products of Constance. Sam groaned out in pain but laughed nonetheless.

“Actually, it was all (Y/N). I’m just the jackass who drove your car through the side of a house,” Sam smiled, jutting his thumb back at you.

Dean hummed as he continued to walk away, clearly disinterested but making an effort to sound impressed. He leaned on the open window of the passenger’s side door, looking over his baby. “Speaking of that, if you screwed up my car--” he paused, looking back at Sam, “--I’ll kill you.”

“Aw, shame,” you cut in, “Sam’s my favorite Winchester.”

Dean glared at you. “Can it, (Y/N).”

***

You lip-synced the words to AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” which boomed through the speakers of the Impala. You were sat in the backseat, leaning on the front seat between the two Winchesters with your forearms atop their bench seat. You looked over Sam’s shoulder as he opened up a giant map and opened his dad’s journal. He went to tuck a flashlight under his chin so he could actually see what he was doing, but you stopped him.

“I can hold that for you.”

“Thanks,” was his short reply as he handed off the flashlight to you, his eyes never leaving the things on his lap. You clicked the flashlight on and held it over his shoulder as he scanned the map for the coordinates “35-111″ as was written in his dad’s journal.

Sam tapped the spot on the map once he found it. “Okay, here's where Dad went. It's called Blackwater Ridge, Colorado.”

“Charming,” you quipped.

“How far?” came Dean’s question.

“About six hundred miles,” the younger Winchester told his brother.

“Hey, if we shag ass after we drop (Y/N) off in the next town over we could make it by morning,” Dean suggested, looking over at Sam. 

‘This guy is so ready to get rid of me,’ you thought, shaking your head.

Sam cocked his head to the side and looked to his brother. “Dean--”

Dean stared back to the road, his pitch dropping lower and his disappointment apparent. “You're not going.”

“The interview's in like, ten hours. I gotta be there,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'll take you home.”

You clicked the flashlight off, sinking back into the backseat. 

‘Awkward.’

***

Dean’s face was still set in a frown as the Impala pulled up to Sam’s apartment complex. You jumped out of the car as Sam did, pulling him into a tight hug. 

“I’m gonna miss you,” you told him, squeezing him harder with your eyes shut. You were genuinely disappointed. Sam was so nice and the two of you had become great friends very quickly.

“Hey, you have my number. Call me.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same.” You pulled away from him. “Say ‘hi’ to Jess for me.”

The brunet chuckled. “I will.” He leaned down into the open window of Dean’s car. “Call me if you find him?”

Dean nodded. 

“And maybe I can meet up with you later, huh?”

“Yeah, all right.”

Sam clearly did not know how to end the conversation from there, so he simply patted the inside of the car door twice and turned away. Dean leaned toward the passenger door, calling out to Sam in one last attempt to get him to come with him. “You know, we made a hell of a team back there.” 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, which was clearly not the reaction Dean was expecting. He just sighed and waited for you to get back in the car. You had barely shut the door before Dean shoved off. 

You jerked around in your seat. “Easy, tiger. Jesus.” You slumped down in your seat after getting no response from Dean. You crossed your arms and looked out of your window. 

The familiar smells of coconut and tobacco filled your nose, and you immediately straightened up. 

“Turn around,” you told Dean, your eyes wide.

“What? No,” he snorted. “Why?”

“Just do it!”

Your exclamation caught Dean off guard. “Jesus, fine.”

He put the car in reverse and headed back up the street. 

Dean hadn’t even stopped in front of Sam’s apartment complex before you threw the car door open and sprinted toward the apartment as fast as you could.

“Whoa, crazy lady, where are you going?” Dean caught up to you and grabbed your arm, spinning you around. 

“Sam’s apartment. Which one is it?!” You asked in a panic. 

“Uh--” He glanced away from you, still puzzled as to why you were a basketcase at the present moment.

“Dean!”

He looked back at you, shaking his head, but he ran up the stairs and led you to Sam and Jess’s shared apartment. 

He stopped in front of the door, turning back to face you. “Now, why--”

Before he could finish his statement, you used all your might to kick the wooden door in, yelling Sam’s name in concern.

“No!” you heard him yell from another room.

Dean jumped into action, sprinting through the apartment with you hot on his heels. The two of you got to the younger Winchester’s bedroom just in time to see a woman in a white nightgown stained red at her belly from bleeding with blonde hair on the ceiling burst into flames. 

“Jess!” Sam yelled, paralyzed on his bed in shock. He quickly moved one arm to shield his face as the flames got closer to him. “No!”

‘Oh, shit. His girlfriend...’

You shook your thoughts away from you and helped Dean lug a screaming Sam out of the door and out of the apartment complex. You fished through your bag in Dean’s car for your phone and called the fire department as Dean tried to hold Sam back from going back in for his charred girlfriend.

***

Flashes of red and blue broke through the black of night, emanating from police cars and firetrucks all around you. You walked through the chaotic scene of police and firemen holding back onlookers and firemen dousing the remaining embers of the fire in water. Black, charred wood stuck out from the turquoise exterior of the complex, and you could see into the apartment through giant holes that had been burnt out of the wall. 

You walked back over to the boys who stood by the Impala. Sam was fooling with weapons concealed within the hollowed-out bottom of the trunk, and Dean stood next to him, watching his brother’s face. As you got to them, you put a hand on Sam’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He looked up at you, his normally soft and cheery expression suppressed by a look of both desperation and anger. He shut the trunk with a hard slam.

“We got work to do.”

Tags are open and feedback is always appreciated!

Series Rewrite Tags:

@rach5ive​ @ppeachygemss​

[cinnaminsvga]

what are your favorite fics you read for every member? like the ones that resonated and left you a changed woman when you finished. could be because of characterization, or plot, or nostalgia, just the ones that come first and easy for every member, like, the iconic ones for you. can be mxm. i'm asking cause i just read worldwide lonesome and. damb. just. i kinda feel like i read seokjin’s diary or something? like it felt invasive just bc of how REAL he felt, you feel me? so. i'm curious about u

this is such a loaded ask because honestly, i had to think really deeply about this!! there are so many fics out there that have changed me as a writer and as a person in general that its hard to pick just seven... but i’m glad you mentioned worldwide lonesome because that fic is definitely!! fucking!! up there!! it might actually be my #1 seokjin fic, so you already got me there. but man... i put a lot of thought into my answer because my reading list is a never-ending pool of queerness and angstiness, as those tend to resonate the most deeply with me (since i am, after all, both queer and angsty HAHAH) so uhhh... here i go!! (also i apologize that these are mostly mxm... weirdly enough, i’m kind of more affected by those bc i relate more to them than reader inserts for some reason... the world is bombarded with hetero representation, so excuse me for clinging to my sole source of queer love lmao)

➤ for seokjin:

worldwide lonesome by loindexter [yoonjin] - i already mentioned it, but MAN... this fic left me stunned. the characterization of seokjin is what gets me the most, and by god, i am a SUCKER for coming out stories. as a closeted queer person, i’ve always wondered what other people’s experiences are with coming to terms with their sexuality, and op really hits the nail on the head. seokjin in this fic just feels... so real. like you said, it almost felt like i was looking into his diary!! it was maddening and tearjerking and oh so fucking human... you could feel his turmoil as if it were your own... and yoongi!! dear god, yoongi... that sweet fool... this fic just struck a cord with me because of how intimate and vulnerable it felt. i really hope i can write a fic like that in the future.

➤ for yoongi:

here comes the sun by fruitily [yoonkook] - this was unequivocally the hardest decision i’ve ever had to make in my life, mostly because i’ve read a plethora of yoongi fics in my day and it is quite literally so difficult to pin down a singular fic that changed me the most as a person. the reason i chose this certain fruitily fic (op will always be my biggest writing idol... if i could, i’d list down their entire masterlist as my favorite yoongi/jungkook fics of all time) because of the emotions it made me feel. there’s always something a bit sad about summer romances, and i’ve always been a sucker for that sort of trope because of the many possibilities you can do with it. it’s just... the way yoongi was portrayed here was just so darn REAL,,, you could almost physically feel his increasing want, his slow realization that yes, he does love the bucktoothed kid from summer camp. i absolutely adore the interactions he has with all the characters, because you can almost fool yourself into thinking he’s a real person. he’s a friend, and you’re watching him come to terms with what it means to love someone you only see once a year. dear lord i love that dude i’m gonna go cry now!!

(also bc i’m cheating but i also recommend the nights really were made for saying things you can't say tomorrow day by siderum... first yoonkook fic i ever read and dare i say it literally changed me as a person. there are no words.)

➤ for hoseok:

depaysement by 1honeypot (oilblotter/obiwrites) - okay i know this is fucked up for me to recommend a fic that doesn’t even exist on the internet anymore (op deleted her account on tumblr and has moved to ao3 but she’s never gonna reupload this fic again unfortunately) but MAN i still remember that fic to this day. it was so fucking GOOD and it made me realize the potential reader fics had that i never knew was possible. the entire plot was the usual make-over cliche (popular trendy girl makes the nerd hot yadah yadah yadah) that i had thought wouldn’t be interesting, but op managed to turn that trope into her own. it was hilarious, hot, moving, relatable... just ticking off every point that makes a fic great. i miss that fic so dearly and if you were some of the lucky few who managed to read it when it was still around... i think you all understand.

➤ for namjoon:

beta tau sigma by bazooka [namjin] - i cannot count the amount of times i’ve reread this fic. like, no joke, i probably memorize a few of the chapters from rereading it alone. holy fuck,,, as you can tell, i have a pattern when it comes to my fave fics and it’s all about: GAY PANIC THE MUSICAL!! yea... i just really like fics about self-discovery because MAN as a young adult traversing the mysteries of human nature and sexuality, i sincerely relate to namjoon in this fic. “am i gay, or am i just gay for my best friend?” is a question i have asked myself NUMEROUS times... dear god, namjoon is just a walking catastrophe and i!! could not!! relate!! more!! the plot flow and immersion you get from this fic is out of this world. you almost feel like you’re in the same frat as them!! i also love the way op made even the side characters have their own story arcs and backgrounds... they are what inspired me to give life to even the smallest of characters bc it just heightens the reading experience imo!! they really do feel like your friends in this fic, and this fic will always be my sources of comfort.

➤ for jimin:

darling, just say you’ll say by tusaisbts [yoonmin] - have i not sung this fic enough praises? i know it looks weird from the premise... cowboys? mail order brides? i thought it was odd at first too, but believe me when i say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. jimin’s growth as a character here left me absolutely speechless!! i just love his development: from a scared stranger dropped off in the middle of nowhere to a smart and capable teacher who can hold his own in this small rural town. i especially love how he interacts with yoongi, because op really makes you want to root for them. you want them to fall in love, to make their relationship work out. that yearning for two characters to get together is something i want my own readers to feel, and there aren’t enough words in my vernacular to explain how happy i was when everything turned out well. and jfc... rancher yoongi? got me so fucking hot n bothered and now i will forever be enamored by the thought of rugged yoongi... jfc...

➤ for taehyung (& jimin!!):

mudlands & yellow acacia by nonheather [vmin] - i remember the day i read this like it was yesterday. i had a final to study for, but instead i read this entire thing in one go and then i cried my eyes out even until the moment i walked into my exam room. i don’t know how else to describe this other than it was otherworldly. it was cozy. it was heartbreaking and magical and downright lovely. i especially loved the way taehyung was here... so fucking whipped for park jimin. he loved like no other man could, and jimin might have been a little too bullheaded at first, but they make it out okay. i’m not really one to believe in soulmates, but this fic almost made me believe they could be. it made me yearn for the first time, and i think that counts for something. to love another person and to have them love you back... op made me believe in love. 

➤ for jungkook:

years since you’ve been here by ameliabedelias [namkook] - okay maybe i’m just a crybaby and i cry at every fic under the sun but dear god this fic... might be The Fic That Changed Me As A Person. like, of course the other fics were mindblowing but this one in particular... wow. trampled all my expectations and caused a garden to bloom in my heart. jungkook is so sweet, so lost... he feels too much and he aches for namjoon. i know all too well that feeling of melancholy... when you love someone you’re not supposed to. coming of age stories will always have a soft spot in my heart, because i always tend to project myself onto the main characters. i want to grow and find my own destiny. i want to learn and be happy. jungkook finds his way, tumbles and trips the entire time, but he gets there. a symbol of queer triumph.

[diamondcamefromhell]

Crazy witch

Jaskier x witch!Reader [non-romance]

Summary: Y/N is a witch, who after graduating Brotherhood, abandoned her post, not really enjoying serving royal clowns. This lead to her becoming friends with Yennefer, a witch of similar nature, as two of them go to look for Geralt, Yen’s love.

Warnings: Swearing

Word count:  2,033

A/N: I am posting three posts today, as the first two were just reuploads, as the tags werent working [hope they work now] but usually i probs will stick to one or two posts a day. i hope you enjoy this little fic i wrote, i have a lot of ideas, but timeless love is taking a lot of time, as i want to write ahead so i have something to post during my work days, but more one-offs are coming, maybe even some headcanons

requests are open & all feed back is appreciated [can be left anonymously on my ask page!]

“Yennefer, wait!” I say, rushing after my friend, who glances at me, not slowing down her pace.

“Y/N, go back.” She says coldly, as I finally catch up to her. I breathe heavily, still half-running. She now glares at me, stopping. “I said go back.”

“Yeah, how about no?” I say in between my breaths. Her violet eyes spark up, as she presses her lips. “Oh, let me come along. This town is mighty boring, and you know it too.”

“You are safer here.” I roll my eyes, as she sighs. “I don’t want to babysit you.”

“First of all, fuck you.” I say, jokingly pushing her, as she finally breaks a smile. “Secondly, I can take care of myself, Yen. And don’t worry, I wont steal Geralt.”

“You can have the Witcher for all I care.” She says, proudly, but I know she would break my knees if I dared to look at him wrong. She had love written all over her face.

“You said he travels with a friend too.” I grab her hand, and she doesn’t push me away. I know I’m getting on her good side. “You can have one as well.”

“You are better than Jaskier.” She says, nudging me. We begin to walk, and I know I am tagging along now.

“I am a witch,” I wink at Yen, who grins, “better than any bard.”

Yennefer never said she was going to look for Geralt. But I knew she was heading out for that. We were close friends, at the end of the day. While I didn’t go to brotherhood with her, I much like her, didn’t like serving royal clowns, and abandoned my duties. We ran into each other and quickly became friends.

But since I was younger than her, she was ever so protective. I was nowhere near as powerful as her, at the end of the day, I didn’t bear any elven blood, but I could take care of myself. She knew it too, but more often than not, she told me to stay back.

That’s why I never met Witcher with his bard. Even if she would talk about Geralt a lot. Maybe I will finally get to see them.

She decides it’s best to ride, so we take our horses, embarking on the adventure. A sense of excitement rushes over me, as we gallop out of town. The breeze is warm, as the sun is just rising. The day seems clear.

However it takes us a week to find them. She sees a horse, who seems like a normal mare to me, but Yen insists it’s Roach. More so the Roach. Tied next to a tavern that has a name so faded, I can’t make it out. We tie our horses as Yennefer looks at me.

“They can’t know we looked for them.” She hisses at me, as if that wasn’t obvious. I hear loud cheering from the inside, anxious to get it.

“Right. Let’s say we are looking for…” I try to think of something. “A place to sleep.”

“Sure.” She rolls her eyes, taking a deep breath. I like seeing her anxious, it reminds me she is not that different from me.

We open the door as the smell hits me. Ale. Strong, strong sent of ale. And blood. I frown, looking around to see a white-haired man, his hands covered in blood. He didn’t seem to care, drinking his ale, looking like he is ready to kill again. His yellow eyes focused on the bar top. I raise my eyebrows, recognizing the White Wolf.

“That’s Geralt?” I grab Yen by her dress, as she glares at me. She sensed that my tone wasn’t exactly impressed.

“And Jaskier.” She nods towards the man playing a lute.

I didn’t even see him at first, even in his obnoxiously bright green outfit. He’s stringing the instrument, prancing around like a little girl. The men seem to find it entertaining. His voice, however, does sound good.

The bard seems to notice us, as he takes one glance at Yen, and his music stops in a heartbeat. That makes the witcher look at us too, as his face paints with surprise.

“Geralt.” Yennefer breaks the sudden silence. She manages to sound unimpressed. I try not to grin, knowing we literally searched for him. “Long time no see.”

“Yen.” His husky voice sends a wave of whispers in the tavern.

“Oh hey, it’s the witch.” Jaskier grunts, walking towards his friend. I silently follow Yennefer. Bard’s eyes go from her, to me. “Two of them.”

“Jaskier.” I grin. “Heard so much about you.”

“What brings you here?” I turn to Geralt, who directed this question to Yen. His gaze is literally glued to her.

“Just stopping by for some drinks.”  She sits down as Jaskier and I awkwardly stand by our friends. “Ladies need to rest.”

“Hm.” Witcher smirks, and part of me thinks he knows we went out of our way to find them. “You got a friend.”

“Y/N.” I introduce myself, as Geralt nods.

“Also a sorceress?” He asks and I see Jaskier roll his eyes.

“Well noticed, witcher.” I tease, looking at the bard now, who looks really annoyed. When our eyes meet, however, his expression softens. I know what Yennefer did to him, so I understand his resentment. But it’s been years. “See you made up with the bard?”

“Hard to get rid of him.” Geralt says, his eyes back at Yen, who was silently watching this exchange. I see her glance at me.

She wants me to leave them two alone. She also glances at the bard. Make him leave them alone too. I give her a slight glare, however nodding. I know how much it means to her, to be with Geralt after all this time. They’ve met a few times since the dragon fight, but she always played her cold and angsty self. But she missed him, dearly.

I look at the bard, smiling.

“May I ask you to continue playing? I didn’t get to hear enough of your music, Jaskier.” He presses his lips tightly together, squinting. I know he’s trying to assess me, see what my intentions are. “Please, entertain the lady.”

My slight flirt seems to work, as Jaskier picks up his lute, picking up a tune. Mere seconds later he is prancing around again, shooting a glare at Yen and Geralt from time to time. I smile at them both, making my way to a table away from them. I keep giving Jaskier kind and flirtatious smiles, and slowly but surely, even the angry glares stop.

After a couple of songs, he sits down in front of me. I can tell he’s eager to ask something, but seems to struggle to find the right words.

“You can ask me whatever you want.” I encourage, as he seems slightly confused and worried. “I won’t hurt you. I am not trying to regain… anything. Unlike Yen, years ago.”

“You know the story.” He says, bitterly. I smirk.

“She’s my friend, Jaskier. I know all of her stories.” I lean back, keeping my eyes on the bard. “She did forget to mention you were cute.”

“She what?” It seems my words threw him off, as he stutters ever so slightly. So cute.

“Yeah, you know. When she told me about you, she didn’t exactly describe you as cute.” I continue teasing, making Jaskier flutter ever more. There is a blush to his face. “Or that you’re talented.”

“I don’t think she got to see that.” He manages to say, as I take a moment to respond, allowing him to calm down.

“She missed out.” I look at her, just to catch the pair look at each other dreamily. “She’s a good person, Jaskier. I know she hurt you, but desperate people do crazy shit like that.”

“She’s crazy.” I give him a quick glare.

“She was crazy.” I lean on the table, getting closer to him. “Imagine having a choice like that getting ripped from you. To hell, maybe she would never even want to be a mom, if she could bear children. But the pure thing that she had no choice.”

“Neither do you, but I don’t see you trying to eat a djin.” I squint, grabbing Jaskier’s arm. It makes him flinch.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not crazy.” I say, tightening my grip on his arm. Bard glares at me. I let go, leaning back again. “You’re a man. You can’t understand.”

“Yeah, Y/N, blame it on me, not her.” I glare at him again, but then I try to see it from his perspective. She did nearly kill him. Trapped him. I take a couple of deep breaths, relaxing.

“Point is. She was crazy back then, I can’t deny her. In many ways, she still is.” My voice softens, as I look at my friend. “But your friend, Geralt, truly makes her better. Makes her more complete. They both are… kids of experiments, if you will. They need each other. Your hate towards her only makes things worse between you and Geralt.”

“As if you’d know.” I look at the bard, offering him a sad smile.

“I know. I almost lost her when I was resentful and angry at Geralt.” I chuckle to myself. “When she came to me and told me what witcher did to her, I was about to go and get his head on a spike. I hated him. Until I saw just how much she loved him. And she’s my friend, my best friend.”

“So you just forgave him?” He asks, lifting his eyebrows. I shrug.

“It wasn’t easy, but I had no choice.” I reach out through the table, this time gently wrapping my fingers around his hand. “I know she hurt you personally, but for Geralt’s sake, it’s best you forgive this crazy witch.”

“Did she ask you to tell me this?” I laugh, leaning back. My hand, however, stays on his.

“I don’t think she really cares what you think about her.” I say, as Jaskier also finally smirks.

“Then why are you telling me this?” I wink at him, as a slight blush comes back to his cheeks.

“I don’t want you to think all of the witches are the same.” Then, I sigh. “Besides, there may be a day where two of them actually get together. Then us, their two companions, will also be together. I want things to be okay then. I want us to be friends.”

“You want to be friends with me?” He doesn’t sound too impressed and I pretend to be hurt, putting hand to my chest. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Well, whatever you mean, I do.” Our eyes lock, and suddenly me having my hand on his feels a little too intimate, so I pull away. “One day we all will have to be one big family.”

“Not looking forward to that.” He jokes and I also let out a laugh. His eyes light up as I see him fully relax. His shoulders drop, and he rests his elbows on the table, his face on his hands. He stares at me. “It’s not fair that all witches are so pretty.”

“It comes at a price.” I smirk, flattered by his compliment. I copy him, resting my hand in my palms too. “You aren’t as bad as she made you out to be.”

“For a crazy witch, Y/N, you don’t seem too bad yourself.” We both giggle. “Thank you. For trying to talk some sense into me.”

“We will get to see each other often, something tells me.” I say as we both steal a glance, as Yen and Geralt leave the tavern. “So I am doing myself a favour.”

“You know what, Y/N?” Jaskier sprints to his feet, winking at me. “I hope we get to be friends. Who knows, maybe it will lead to great things.”

“Who knows.” I whisper, watching him spring the instrument to life.

He picks up a tune, and I wonder how Yen ever managed to hurt such a pure soul. I stand up, going for a dance, as the night is just beginning.

[fayzart136]

Shaperatown

(Sorry for the spam if you follow me, I’m reuploading this because it wasn’t showing up in the tags)

Hadestown AU, 8.7K. Any feedback is much apprecieted!

ROAD TO HELL 

The kiosk had long since been abandoned. It wasn’t like there was any food left on the shelves, anyway. All of it had been taken by the hungry people of the town. The only movement on the train station were a few newspapers littering the ground, seeming to shiver in the cold wind.    Michael wasn’t surprised by the deserted station; this winter had been particularly harsh. Everyone would rather stay inside and huddle by the fire than sit on a freezing platform. Being a vagrant, he didn’t exactly have that luxury. Besides, someone had to be here when she arrived. He tried to light a cigarette, not an easy task with his prosthetic arm. As he was struggling, he noticed another person.   “Oh, hi there, stranger. Fancy seein’ you here. Don’t mind me, I’m just waiting on someone.” The sign above the platform only had one train scheduled: Shaperatown. It didn’t say at what time it would arrive. Michael noticed the person looking. “Yeah, it never shows when. But it’ll come when it’s time. Prob’ly at the end.” At the end? The stranger wondered. “The end of my story, ‘course. Seems like a fine time for a train to show up. If you like, I can tell you. It’s always better to tell stories when someone’s actually listenin’.” The person sat down next to Michael, and he smiled.   “Thanks, stranger. I have to warn you though.” His smile faded. “It’s a sad tale. One might even call it a tragedy. But even sad tales deserve to be told, don’tcha think?” He chuckled. “Hell, maybe it’ll turn out this time.” He turned toward the stranger.   “So, what’dya say? I can’t promise I’ll even finish the tale, and it might take me a long time. But are you ready to hear an old song again?” The stranger nodded.   “Good. Now, it all started when this new guy came into town...”  

  

COME HOME WITH ME  

“Hey, who is that guy?” Michael glanced over to where Raven was looking. A blonde man had just entered the diner and was sitting a few tables away from them.   “Oh, him? I dunno, he’s new. I think his name was Louie, Leo, something like that.” Raven studied the stranger. Despite his tall frame, he still got lost in his big overcoat. His clothes were covered in mud from the road and heavily worn. His bags were right next to him, with what seemed like all his belongings. He looked like a man who didn’t intend to stay very long.   “I’m gonna go talk to him.” Raven decided out loud. He got up, but Michael grabbed his shoulder before he went.    “Look, Raven...Don’t come on too strong, okay?” Raven scoffed. “Please, Michael, you know I’m the master of the soft sell.” Michael didn’t look like he believed him one bit. Nonetheless, Raven strolled up to the table the man was sitting at.    

“Come home with me.” Lloyd looked up at him.   “I’m sorry, what?”   “I said, come home with me.” Raven flashed his brightest smile. The man blinked rapidly and frowned.   “I- Do I know you?”   “Not yet, but you will.” He removed the guitar that was strapped to his back. “The name’s Raven. I wrote you a song, wanna hear it? It’s mostly a medley, but there’s stuff of my own in there, as well.” The man seemed to still be reeling a bit, but most of the confusion on his face had been replaced by a sort of amusement.   “I see. You play, then?”   “Yeah, I’m also in this theatre troupe, and we’re thinking of expanding to a circus-” The man laughed. “Oh, a drama queen and a clown, as well!”    Michael couldn’t bear to see this anymore and piped in from his table. “You should really listen to the medley, though. It’s pretty out there, but the guy’s got talent.” Lloyd looked over at Michael, then back at Raven standing ready and eager with his guitar. He sighed but couldn’t help smiling a bit.   “I mean, sure. Why not.” That’s all the encouragement Raven needed, and he started singing.  

When the medley was over, Raven was a bit short of breath. He always got really ‘into’ his performance, and this time, he gave it his all. Lloyd was staring at him, brows raised.   “Well. That was certainty the most... unorthodox seduction I’ve ever enjoyed.” Raven grinned.   “But you enjoyed it, though?” And sure enough, Lloyd had been oddly charmed by the performance. There was a passion there, a kind of chaos and sincerity that really spoke to him. He tried to act nonchalant and shrugged. ��  “I mean, I definitely didn’t hate it. I’m curious to see your theatre troupe, now.”    “Great! You’re gonna love it. It’s a bit chaotic, mostly because we don’t have a stage manager yet, but you should totally come to rehearsal.” Lloyd considered that for a moment. He glanced at the road through the dirty windows of the diner. There were worse towns to rest in. Surely, he could stop for just a moment. If the winds changed, he could just pack his bags and go, anyway. He looked back at the strange man, who was staring right back at him excitedly. No harm in taking in the scenery, as it were.    “Say... Raven, was it? You’re in luck, because I just so happen to know a stage manager. And he would love to go with you.”   

  

WAY DOWN HADESTOWN  

Michael winced as the distant, but sharp call of the train cut through his hangover. Groggily, he dragged himself into a sitting position. Around him, other partygoers slowly woke up, as well.    “Sounds like your ride is here, Fay.” The woman, who had been sleeping it off on the couch, groaned in frustration.   “Oh, come on! That was not six months!” Begrudgingly, she got up and straightened her dress. “Someone teach that man to read a bloody calendar,” she mumbled. Michael got up as well.    “I’m sorry, but I guess it’s time to go.” Fay huffed and grabbed the nearest bottle. “I’ll go pack my bags.”  

Everyone had come to wave Fay goodbye. Michael, Lloyd and Raven stood a bit apart from the rest. The Floozies were there as well. But then again, they were always kind of always there. No one knew where they had come from, or how many of them there actually were. They all had to exact same cotton candy hair, and it was impossible to tell them apart. Either they could move between locations very quickly, or there were more than anyone could count. However many there were, they were always seen in groups of three. Raven got along with them pretty well.    “I don’t get it,” Lloyd confessed. “Why does everyone say Shaperatown is such a terrible place? I understand why Fay doesn’t want to go back, but everyone here acts like that place is Hell itself.”   “You’re not that far off, actually.” Michael said, “You’re new, so it’s not weird you don’t know.” He lowered his voice.     “Y'see, down there, the dead are put to work. They get desperate folks, make ‘em sign this contract. An’ when ya do, they shove your soul in this mannequin thing. Unable to talk or rest, they make the perfect workers. There are thousands of dolls there, just slavin’ away for Mr. McAlister. No-one who goes to work there, ever returns.”    Lloyd looked down the track, as though he would be able to see the city from there.    “You’re saying they got jobs there?” Raven looked at his boyfriend in shock.   “That was not the part to take away from this story, Lloyd!”   “Yes, I know, I know. I was just surprised this McAlister fellow is able to provide so many jobs. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the economy isn’t doing great at the moment.”    “Oh, not over there.” One of the Floozies piped in. “A little bird told me the economy is running smooth as ever!”    “Yeah!” The second one added. “All the money comes from there.”   “Quite literally,” The third one finished. “What, with all the mines and all.”   “What’s that matter?” Raven asked incredulously. “Who cares about the economy when you’re dead?” He grimaced. “I’d eat pig crap on crackers before I consider working there. Who in their right mind would trade feeling the sunshine for some spare change?” Michael nodded. “Tell me ‘bout it.” He held out his prosthetic arm. “I’ve got one wood part, and that’s a-plenty, lemme tell ya.” His expression turned to horror. “God, can you imagine full-body phantom pains?” He shuddered. Lloyd stayed quiet.    All conversation died down as the train arrived. For a moment, the whole station was covered in thick smoke, making everyone cough. When they could see again, the only carriage opened, and a man stepped out. It was the man they’d been talking about: Edgar McAlister. A short man dressed in a fine suit and top hat. His curly hair was graying, but you could still see a bit of the carrot color. Fay walked up to him. “You’re early.” She snapped.    McAlister’s neutral expression didn’t change. “I missed you.”   As the couple got into the carriage, the Floozies whispered in Lloyd’s ear.    “Didya see his suit?” One said.   “Wanna bet he never goes hungry?” The other added.   “Seems like he owns everything.” They all said in unison.   “Kind of makes you wonder how it feels.” Lloyd marveled. 

CHANT I 

Fay had almost forgotten how polluted the city was. Even inside, the smog seemed to carry more dust than oxygen. The air was heavy and hot, and the noise and light gave her a headache, after not even an hour being back. She threw her coat on the couch.  “God, this place is getting worse every year.”   “Oh, I apologize,” Edgar said calmly. “Let me just turn off the factory. I’ll go let everyone starve, because Fay dearest is uncomforable.” The tension between them hang in the air. Fay knew where this conversation would lead. She took another drink to prepare herself. Edgar crossed his arms and nodded to the factories outside.  “I’m doing this to provide for you, you know.”   Fay scoffed. “I don’t remember asking you to.” Edgar raised his eyebrow. His voice stayed icy, only frustrating Fay more.  “I am pretty sure you agreed to this. I seem to recall vows of some sort.”  And so, the argument began in earnest.  “Oh, you mean the vows you forced me to make?”  “I didn’t force you to do anything. It wasn’t like I dragged you down the aisle.” Fay felt the urge rise to punch something, preferably her husband’s face.  “Besides,” He continued smugly, “I now am the most succesful man in town. You no longer have reason to leave.” Fay couldn’t believe her ears.   “Do you still think that was the bleeding problem? I left you,” Fay spat. “because we didn’t work.”   “I made it work!” Edgar countered. “I put in the effort to win you back over. I built all this,” He gestured around. “All to win your heart! Shouldn’t you at least be grateful I’m doing all this for you?” Fay leaned forward. She was a head taller than her husband, and she looked down with curled lip.  “I feel nothing for you."” She whispered. “I loved you once. But now, I feel nothing but loathing, disgust and hate.” That shut him up for a moment. He swallowed.   "Very well.” He said. “If you’ll excuse me, I have just decided the workload for the dolls should double.” As he walked away, he called back over his shoulder. “I’m sure your father will be pleased about that.” He slammed the door on his way out. Fay wasn’t surprised. This was how it went every year. She felt a pang of guilt for her father receiving the consequenes of her failing marriage. Another swing from the bottle helped ease it a bit.    

 CHANT I / SONGBIRD 

“You said you could provide for me!”   “You’re acting like it’s my fault the storm is here!”   “No, “Lloyd spat. “But it is your fault I am!” He walked toward the door.  “Wait. Wait, Lloyd, where are you going?”   “Out!” He called. His hand was already on the door handle, when Raven grabbed his arm.  “Wait, Lloyd! Don’t go!”  Lloyd tried to shake him off.  “Don’t be so dramatic. I just need to clear my head, I’m coming back.”  “Are you?” The genuine worry in his boyfriend’s voice made him turn around, hand still on the door handle.  “Yes, of course I will. Like I said, I just need time to think. Will you please let go of my arm?” Raven didn’t let go, his jaw stubbornly set.    “Ravey, what’s the matter with you? You aren’t usually this paranoid.”  “I have a bad feeling.” He confessed. “I don’t want you to leave during a fight.” Lloyd sighed.  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but there’s nothing to worry about. I won’t hit the road. Right now, I’m just angry and I need to calm down.” He pried Raven’s hand from his arm.   “I’ll be back. I promise.” Raven didn’t respond. Lloyd was right, this wasn’t like him. But as his boyfriend went through the door, he couldn’t help the anxious feeling in his gut. 

Lloyd sat by the side of the road and took a deep breath. The cold wind cut his lungs, but the bite refreshed his flushed face a bit. Raven and he had been having more and more fights, lately. Almost all of them were about money. Raven was so caught up in his music, he didn’t seem to notice all the firewood and food had dwindled and vanished. He thought he could do what he had been doing every winter, not realizing there now were two mouths to feed. And as pretty as his songs were, they weren’t able to shelter Lloyd from the wind. He groaned and covered his face in his hands. He should’ve left when he had the chance. He had always gone wherever the wind blew him, never growing attached. But in spite of himself, he had caught feelings for Raven, and now he’d gotten himself stuck. As he was moping, he heard a cheery voice.   “Hey there buddy, you’re looking down. Say, you’re Lloyd Allen, aren’t you?” He looked up to see a man in a snazzy suit looking down at him. His smile was dazzling.  “You were stage manager for that Neverland play, right? That was a fine piece of work, there. Can’t have been easy to keep everything on track.” Lloyd scoffed softly at the memory.  “It was like herding cats.” He confessed. The man nodded.  “I bet it was. I mean, the actors were fine and all, but everyone knows the real work happens backstage.”  “Exactly!” Lloyd agreed. The man sat down next to him.   “Well look here, I’ll level with ya. It’s a damn shame to see a guy with your potential merely managing plays. We think you gotta lot of potential.”  “Who’s ‘we’”?  Lloyd asked. The man waved faux-casually.  “Oh, just some fellas over in the city. That’s right, I’m from McAlister Inc., and I’m here to help. I’ve got a proposition for ya. How’d you feel about a proper job?” Lloyd frowned.  “In Shaperatown? No thank you, I’d like to keep living a while longer.” The man shrugged.  “Well, it’s hardly dying if you get better, right? Besides, you’ll basically become immortal. Seems like a pretty good tradeoff to me.” Lloyd thought about it.  “Well, when you put it like that... I’ve heard some things about the work conditions, though. They tell me everyone’s miserable there.” The man looked like he had said something ridiculous.  “How can you be miserable when you’re never hungry or tired? Those doll bodies don’t need anything, except the spare part every now and then. Immortality, never a care in the world, and a stable job?” He jabbed Lloyd playfully in the shoulder. “Really, you’re the one who’s cheating me.” Lloyd tried to think of what Michael and Raven had told him about Shaperatown. Was there something he was missing? Surely, if the man was telling the truth, it couldn’t be as bad as they made it out to be. Definitely not so bad as to dismiss it out of hand. He got up.  “Thank you for the offer. I’ll go talk it over with my boyfriend, and I’ll get back to you.”   The man looked incredulously, still with that smile on his face. After a few seconds, he laughed out loud.  “Oh, that’s a good one. ‘I’ll get back to you’, you’re a riot!” Still chuckling a bit, he got up as well.   “I don’t think you really get what’s goin’ on, son. Y’see, I’m a busy man, I can’t stay long. I got clients to call, orders to fill. Now, like I said, ya got potential, but if I walk into town, people will practically fling themselves at me for the opportunity to work. For you ten others, you know what I’m saying? It’s now or never.”   “I have to choose right now?” Lloyd asked.  “That’s the idea.” The man’s smile dropped. “Although I don’t think it’s much of a choice. Look all around you.” He waved at the barren lands. “It’s not like you’ve got anything to lose. So what’ll it be? Would you like to work? Or would you rather starve to death? The choice is yours, if you’re willing to choose.” 

 Lloyd was stunned. After a brief consideration, he shook his head.  “I can’t leave.” He said. “It wouldn’t be fair.”  “Life ain’t fair, baby.” Floozie said. Lloyd hadn’t seen her approach, and he startled a bit.   “Yeah,” The second one said. “You gotta do what’cha gotta do.”  “No, I couldn’t.” Lloyd protested. “I promised Raven I wouldn’t leave.”  “Oh,” The third one said. “Jus’ like Raven-baby promised to provide for you? How’d that turn out?”  Lloyd didn’t have a good response to that.   “I shouldn’t. It would break his heart.” He said, but he already sounded less argumentative.  “So what?” All three Floozies said in unison. “Everyone must deal with heartbreak eventually. If it isn’t from you, it’ll be from someone else.”  “Besides,” one continued, “The man is right, y’know? You’ll just go hungry if ya stay.”  “And what good would that do?” The others added. “No use in you both starving, right?”  Lloyd’s heart ached. He knew he shouldn’t. Ever since he met Raven, he told himself he was above such selfishness. He didn’t have to only hold his own anymore. But the gnawing in his stomach was persistent and wouldn’t be ignored. He turned toward his house one last time, almost hoping Raven had followed him and would stop him. But he was alone. He turned back to the man in the suit.  “Alright. I’m going.” 

WAIT FOR ME 

After Lloyd disappeared, everyone held their breath for Raven. They all expected him to completely fall apart. However, at first glance, he seemed to be doing okay. He still went to rehearsals and kept writing his songs. In fact, he started working even harder, fully throwing himself into the theatre. And sure, he drank a bit more at afterparties, and his laugh had a bit more of an edge than usual, but he assured everyone he was fine. Lloyd had needed some time for himself, he said. It had been a couple weeks, but he would be back any minute. There was nothing to worry about. But Michael knew him. The cheery façade Raven threw up couldn’t fool him. He went to check on him.  

“Hey, Raven? You home?” The smell hit him as soon as he stepped through the door. The stench of stale beer, as well as stronger stuff, mixed with that of unwashed dishes and dust. Michael carefully stepped around the empty bottles and strewn-across laundry. He heard Raven call from the bedroom.   “Go away! I’m not home.” He sounded like he had been crying. Slowly, Michael opened the door. Inside the bedroom was an even bigger mess. There wasn’t an inch of the floor that wasn’t covered by trash of some sort. Raven lay on the unmade bed, still clutching a bottle of scotch. He shielded his eyes from the faint light as Michael stepped in.  “Hey man.” He said, softly. “How you doin’?”   “How the fuck does it look like I’m doing? Go away.” He took another swig from the bottle. Michael walked over and tried to gently remove it from his hand.  “A’ight, I think you had enough.”  “Yeah, you would know.” Raven snapped.   Michael stayed calm. “I do.” Raven opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and groaned. He threw his arm over his face.  “I’m sorry Michael, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, it’s just-”  “Don’t even worry about it man, it’s fine.” As Michael sat the bottle on the nightstand, he noticed a strong scent. His nose crinkled.   “Hey, uh... D’ya know what might make you feel better?” He offered. “How ‘bout a nice shower to freshen up, huh?” Raven chuckled dryly, still covering his face.  “Way to bring it up tactfully. But no.” He paused. “What’s the point?”  “Of showers?” Michael asked.  “You know damn well that isn’t what I meant.” Michael went silent. He sat down on the edge of the bed, not really knowing what to say.  “C’mon,” he said gently, touching Raven on his shoulder. “Let’s get some food into you. We need to talk.” 

A slightly more presentable Raven sat across him at the kitchen table. The man looked like hell. His dreads were a tangled mess and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Clutching his bowl of soup and with a blanket thrown around his shoulder, he looked completely unlike the flamboyant showman he was. “I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” He said sheepishly.   Michael waved. “Like I said, don’t worry ‘bout it. You’d do the same for me.” Raven smiled.  “So, what did you want to talk about?” Michael paused, taking some time to pick his words.  “I know you’ve been pretty torn up after Lloyd left.” Raven snorted.  “Well, what gave you that crazy idea.” Despite the jest, his voice cracked slightly with the threat of tears. He cleared his throat.   “Yeah,” Michael said deadpan. “I dunno how I could think sucha thing.”  “It’s just-” Raven gripped his bowl a bit tighter. “He promised he’d be back. He didn’t say when, but it’s been months! What if something happened to him? What if...” His jaw tightened with emotion. “What if he isn’t coming back?” Michael rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, uh, it’s about that I wanted to talk to ya, actually. I didn’t wanna tell you before, because I was ‘fraid you’d get depressed. But, well...” He gestured vaguely around.  “I can’t get worse than this.” Raven finished.  “Yeah, pretty much.” Michael said bluntly. “So, I got good news and bad news. The good news is: I know where Lloyd went.” Raven’s sprung up. Immediately, the spark returned to his eyes.   “You do?! Where is he?”   “Y’see, that’s the bad news: you’re really not going to like it.” Raven sat down his bowl and leaned over the table. “Tell me. Where is he?”   “Well, you have to promise you’ll not do anything stupid, okay-?”  "Michael! Where. Is. He?”    Michael sighed. “He’s in Shaperatown. I saw him boarding the train.” Raven looked at him in shock. “...Shaperatown? Are you serious?”   “Yeah.” he said. “There was this other guy with him. I think he got recruited. I’m sorry, Raven.”  “What are you sorry for?” Raven asked. “This is great news!”  Michael squinted. “...Is it?”  “Yes! Don’t you get it?” Raven threw the blanket off his shoulders and got up. “It means he didn’t mean to leave! He must’ve gotten tricked or something. What’s more, it means I can get him back!” Michael got up as well.  “Now, hold on a minute. How in hell are ya gonna do that?”   “I don’t know yet, I’ll see when I get there.” Raven threw on his coat and guitar and headed for the door. Michael jumped between them.  “Woah, where do ya think you’re goin’?”  “Shaperatown. I have to save him, move outta my way!” Raven tried to get past him, but Michael grabbed his shoulders.  “Just think. How do you plan to get there?”   Raven shrugged. “I don’t know, by train?”  “You got a ticket?”   He paused. “No. I’ll, uh, I’ll just follow the tracks!” Michael laughed.  “Right, yeah. You’ll never make it. It’s a long way down, and you don’t have a chance, ‘less you know the way.”  “It’s literally one direction!” Raven protested.  “But do you know where you can rest safely? Do you know where the dogs patrol, and where you might find a bite to eat?”   Raven looked down, frowning. “No.” He looked back up. “But you do, right? You’re a vagrant, you must’ve walked that track a thousand times.” Michael stammered: “I- Well, yeah. But I ain’t really supposed to say...”  “Michael, please. I have to follow Lloyd. He’s the only man I ever truly loved.” Raven stared at him with such intensity, Michael couldn’t help but relent with a sigh.  “Okay, I’ll teach ya how to get to Shaperatown. But don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” 

And so, Michael taught Raven how to read the hobo marks, written in chalk on the trees and fences all along the track. He taught him to walk under cover of night, and where he could rest out of sight during the day. He also gave him a small radio, so they could communicate if necessary. Raven hugged him and set out.  It took him most of the winter to reach his destination. He nearly got himself killed multiple times, by hunger or snow or resting in the wrong place. But he never gave up. Hope burned like fire inside him, and it kept him warm through the storm.   Wait for me, he thought. Just be there when I get there. I’m coming.  Finally, the wall of the city appeared on the horizon. But his journey wasn’t over yet. He had to find a way in. The gates were guarded by vicious Blood Red Dogs, and Raven didn’t have nearly enough funds to bribe them. So, he snuck around, searching for a spot he might get in. It wasn’t that hard; the wall was constantly upgraded and maintained by the workers of the city. He had to crane his neck to see them, but Raven found them working on southern part. He felt a chill. Even without faces, the dolls looked miserable. Their bodies were falling apart from use, the wood cracked and paint chipped. As they carried the heavy stones, they dragged their feet and kept their head low.  

Now, Raven was a poor boy. But he had a gift to give. He could make you see the way the world could be, in spite of the way that it is. You might say he was ‘touched’. He removed the guitar from his back and started singing. He sang about his lost love, the long road behind him, and the fire inside him. There were two ways this could go: either the dolls would be moved by the song, or he would be screwed. But he believed with all his heart and soul this would work.  The dolls looked up and turned to him. They should have alerted the guards. They should have continued their work. But instead, they listened. Having been trapped in the city for ages, the song stirred a part of them that had nearly been extinguished.   When Raven finished, one of them accidentally dropped a rope down the wall. At least, that what it would have said, if asked. All the others meant to pick it back up, but they forgot. They each were so occupied with their duties, they failed to notice the singer climb the wall, thank them, and enter the city. At least, that’s what they would’ve told you. 

Droves of dolls filled the city in streets, slums and homes. If they weren’t working a shift, they just stared blankly ahead. Raven mumbled an apology as he stepped around them. Then, his radio picked up a very faint signal. His heart stopped as he recognized the voice, even through the static.  “...Flowers. I think I remember flowers.”

____________________

LADY OF THE UNDERGROUND 

Lloyd stepped inside the dimly lit hole-in-the-wall speakeasy. The Mannekin had been rather difficult to locate, but it was filled with costumers. Workers lay strewn around the room like ragdolls, some hanging in chairs, others lying on the floor. Expressions were impossible to tell on the blank faces, but they seemed more dazed than usual. Some were using some strange red dust to dull the mind, others held magnets to their head. Lloyd held a strange appreciation for their inguinity, at least. 

The owner of the bar wasn’t too hard to find. Even if he hadn’t been the only alive person in the room, his red hair and alternative clothes made him a person hard to miss. He sat lounging, arm thrown around a very old looking doll.   “Byron McAlister?” The boy looked up in suprise.  “The one and only.”   “My name is Lloyd Allen. Could I have a word with you?” The boy looked him up and down, a surprised smile on his face.  “Wow,” he marveled. “you talk really well for a doll.” It took a second for Lloyd to really grasp the comment. When he did, he crossed his arms. “I’m- is that supposed to be a compliment?” Byron laughed.  “Okay, yeah, I hear how that sounded now. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s, usually, by the time people find this place, they’re already having trouble moving and speaking and stuff. I mean, take my dearest Jasper, for example.” He gestured toward the doll next to him. “Poor thing hasn’t spoken in all the time I know him. So, congrats, you must have very strong willpower. Or a remarkable memory.” Lloyd didn’t really understand what he was saying, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Before he could ask, the boy shrugged.   “Anyway, whatever the case, you’re here now. So, pick your poison and enjoy.” Lloyd shook his head.  “No, I’m not looking to get high. Listen, I’m a friend of your mother’s. I need you to get me in contact with her, or with McAlister. I’ve m- There’s been a mistake.” Byron chuckled.  “Ah, regretting your career choices, huh?”  Lloyd shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. “I don’t regret anything. That is a futile excercise. I had a logical reason to do what I did, and I just need to make sure it doesn’t happen again. And to do that, I need to get back. Can you talk to your parents for me?” Byron took a sip of his drink and held up a finger.  “Okay, first of all: mighty bold of you to assume either of my parents care about what I have to say. Even if they did,” He sat down his glass. “Father tends to get a bit.... possessive. Trust me on that.”  “So, what?” Lloyd asked. “You’re not even going to help?”  “I am helping.” Byron countered. “I am giving these people the moon and stars back. It’s the only way they can flee Father’s world. He would kill me if he found out about this place. So if you’re not going to enjoy the wares, I’d enjoy your memories as long as they last.” Lloyd’s radio crackled with an angry tirade, but he decided it wasn’t worth it. He stormed back outside.     

FLOWERS 

Now, Lloyd wasn’t going to take this sitting down. So, his job was... disappointing. He might have made a bit of a mistake. And that Byron brat had been no help either. No matter. He could get out himself. He wasn’t going to be like all the others, moping around all day. What good would that do? No, Lloyd decided he was going to devise a plan. Surely all these depressing morons still had some fight in them. He just had to ignite it. Reel them in with entertainment of some sort, and then slowly introduce the idea of revolution. There were so many of them; if he riled them up, they could get out of here. Or at least some of them could. Or at the very least, they could create a distraction while Lloyd escaped. Either scenario worked for him.   So he sat out to work at the factory. Every shift, he would steal some parts. Nothing big, a bolt here, a wire there. Nothing anyone would miss. The one good thing about being trapped in this body was that he didn’t have to sleep. He could tinker and build all night long.  After many nights staying up in his dingy sleeping quarters, he finally managed to build a semi-functional radio station. All those dolls had radios attached. Surely some of them were still functioning enough to pick up his signal. He brushed some leftover bolts from his desk chair and sat down. He felt the urge to take a deep breath, but due to a lack of lungs, that wasn’t possible. He decided to just jump into it. 

“Hello, dear listeners! My name is Lloyd, and welcome to the Shaperatown Radio Hour! I’m here to lift your spirits, because boy, do they need it. Today, I’ll be telling the thrilling tale of-” 

“Welcome back, dear listeners! I tried talking to some of you the other day. Well, it’s possible I talked to one doll multiple times. I have a hard time telling you apart.  Anyway, it seems at least one of you is unresponsive as ever. No matter! I can talk to you through this, and I think... No, I know that it works! So, onto part five of-” 

“Uhm, hello, dear listeners. Sorry if I sound a bit down, it’s just.... I’ve been forgetting things, and I don’t like it. I don’t know if it’s this body, or this place, or the fact the only voice I’ve heard in weeks is my own, but... I didn’t remember how I met Raven. I’ve told you about Raven, right? The only man I ever truly loved. And I forgot how we met. B-But I won’t let that get me down! I have written down everything I remember about... Uhm...” A rustling of paper can be heard. “Raven! Yes, right, that was his name. Raven. See? I can fight it. I won’t become a mindless drone like the rest of you. So, with that tangent out of the way, let us continue with part-” 

“Is anybody listening? Are any of your godforsaken bodies whole enough to pick this up? This stupid shell is getting more and more difficult to move, and it’s harder to talk. That moronic Byron said something about willpower or memory... I must get out of here, as soon as possible. I-” The voice is overlapped with static. “I don’t want to forget.” 

A rustling of paper can be heard. “Uh, let’s see. Raven! Right, of course. Like the bird. Both boyfriend and bird start with a b. Should be easy to remember. My boyfriend’s name is Raven. My boyfriend’s name is Raven. My boyfriend...uhm.” A rustling of paper can be heard. “Raven, that was it! Raven. Raven. My boyfriend’s name is... Damnit.” A rustling of paper can be heard. 

The static almost drowns out the soft voice. “I have given up trying to remember. My notes read like the story of someone else. Even still, as soon as I finish a word, I forget what it said. It’s no use.” There’s a solid minute of dead air.  “...I’m so tired. I can drag myself to the assembly line and work, but any other movement feels like operating a marionette made of concrete. Talking is...” More silence. It lasts a lot longer this time.   “Flowers... I think remember flowers. There was a field of them. They were purple, the favorite of... someone.” The static recedes for a moment. “I had a ‘someone’, didn’t I? Well then, ‘someone’, if you’re hearing this... I’m sorry.” The voice becomes more distorted and wavering. “I am so sorry. I never should have left you.” There seem some more attempts at talking, but they’re too heavily distorted and overlapped by interference to make out. Finally, even those attempts stop. 

 

COME HOME WITH ME II 

Raven burst into the room. He had run all across the city, following where the broadcast was clearest. It had led him to this room. He looked around, but he only saw another broken down doll, sitting in front of a pile of junk.   “Where is he?” He yelled, more to himself than to the doll. Even if it knew where Lloyd was, it wouldn’t be able to tell him. He frantically opened the closet door, as though Lloyd would be hiding in there.  “Lloyd? I came for you, where are you?”  “Ravey?” The staticky voice made Raven gasp and spin around. He scanned the room, but still saw nothing. The doll had turned to face him. It seemed to be shaking.  “Ravey, it’s me.” Raven’s heart dropped. “...Lloyd?” The doll nodded. Tears sprung in his eyes and his throat closed up with emotion. “Lloyd!”   He sprinted across the room, throwing himself into his boyfriend’s arms. Weeping, he held him close, like he would disappear again if he let go. The wood bruised his arms, but he didn’t care. He tried to talk, but he couldn’t get anything past his choking sobs. Lloyd hugged him back. “It’s okay, Raven... I’m sorry. I tried so hard.” His own voice trembled as he hugged him closer. “I tried so hard. I’m so sorry.” The two men sat there, holding the other tight. Even as Raven’s tears dried up and his hiccups slowly died down, they didn’t break their embrace.   “How did you get here?” Lloyd asked. “On the train?”  Raven smiled. “Nah, I walked.” He felt the wood under him shift as Lloyd reeled in suprise.  “You walked?”   “Sorry it took so long.” Even after all that happened, Lloyd’s adorable confused stammers had stayed the same.   “I- wha- How in the world did you get over the wall?”   “I sang. It convinced the dolls to let me in. And I could sing us home again.” He untangled himself from Lloyd and looked to where his eyes should be on his blank wooden face.  “Come home with me.” He said. “I won’t let them take you away from me again.”  “Take me away?” Lloyd asked.  

  An unfamiliar voice spoke up. “I don’t believe we’ve met, young man.” Raven turned around to see Edgar McAlister, ruler of Shaperatown, step into the room. Three Blood Red Dogs stood menacingly in the doorway.  McAlister said coldy: “Look, I don’t know who you are, or why you would think you can just waltz in here without anyone noticing. You must be quite emptyheaded. But I advice you leave now, before things get..” He glanced back at the Dogs. “...ugly.” 

Raven stood up, standing protectively in front of Lloyd.   “No. We’re leaving, and you can’t stop us!” McAlister laughed.  “How very noble.  I don’t suppose your boyfriend told you how he came to be in my employ?”  “I don’t care how you tricked him!”   “Tricked?” McAlister raised his eyebrows. “I did no such thing. He understood the terms. I offered him an opportunity, and he left of his own accord.” Raven looked back at Lloyd. He wouldn’t look him in the eyes.  “Lloyd?” He managed to ask. “That’s not true, is it? Tell me he’s lying.” There was no repsonse.  “...Lloyd. Tell me it’s not true.”  Edgar laughed wryly. “Oh, take this lesson from an old man: unless you can prove your love with gold, you’ll never keep your lovers close.  They get you high, they get you low, and then they leave. I learned that the hard way, and now you will, too. He belongs to me. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”      

CHANT II 

Now, everybody knows the walls have ears. And this is especially the case when the conversation happens in front of a radio station that nobody bothered to turn off.  Jasper hadn’t broadcasted anything in decades. He had been one of the first dolls built, and had long found any attempt at communication to be futile. But Byron still kept his radio in perfect condition, in the hope he might one day speak to him. And so, he had been able to receive the Shaperatown Radio Hour. At first, it had just been another channel, a small part of his mindless backgrond noise.  But when he heard the confrontation between Raven, Lloyd and Edgar, the numbness inside subsided a little. He had been a dolly, a worker, an accessory for so long, he had ceased to think of himself as a person. But Raven loved Lloyd. Despite everything, they still had hope, however faint, that they could escape this hell. Jasper found himself repeating Raven’s question in his mind: is it true?   At his first attempt, Jasper only broadcasted feedback and static, his radio unaccustomed to use. Still, his grandson’s eyes lit up with disbelieve.   “Jasper? Was that you?”  Jasper took the words he heard from the broadcast, and tried to communicate. His new song rang through the Mannekin, getting clearer with each word.   “Is it true?” He asked.  “Are we mindless drones, forgetting ourself? Is there nothing we can do?  I believe: no! We keep our head low in his employ, but  I believe he’s lying. I believe we can look up!  If they can do it, so can we. I know we have the willpower, and we can tell him what we think!”  One by one, the dolls around him echoed his refrain. First, the speakeasy, then the street, then the neighbourhood, and soon the enitre city was chanting along. One by one, the dolls found the will to move, and with Byron cheerfully leading in front, they formed a march. Even Fay joined in, and together they stood outiside Lloyd’s room.    

Back inside, all three men heard the commotion outside. Edgar walked over to the window to see the droves of dolls marching in the streets. His wife and son were there, too. Ungrateful, the lot of them. He sneered.  “Well, young man,” he said. “Seems like you made quite a strong impression. Now, here’s the deal:” He lit up a cigar. “In about three minutes, I’ll have you tried for trespassing and attempting to steal my property. I’ll even be genererous and let you pay off your fines in my employ. However, I’ve been told you have quite a way with words.” He smiled. “So take a stab.  Make me laugh. Make me weep. Make me feel young again.” This was an impossible task, he knew. The only song that made him feel anything these days, was the music of machinery and the singing of coins. He laughed as the young man cautiously took the guitar from his back. “Sing!” He said. “Sing for an old man.” 

 

EPIC III 

Raven swallowed., nervously. But he was a performer. He could do this. He took a deep breath and grounded himself. As soon as he strung the first chord, he felt the song resonate in his bones. He smiled, and sang. 

When the song started, the room seemed to disappear around Edgar. The walls fell away as the boy described the time when he himself had been a young man. He sang of the wonderful nervousness twisting in his stomach as he asked the beautiful young Fay to see a band play with him. She was so vibrant, and Edgar smiled at the memory of when she said yes.   They really had been in love. After all those years of fighting and bitterness, he had almost forgotten that. The giddyness and tenderness overwhelmed after such a long absence. The boy started the wordless chorus of the love song, and all the dolls outside sang along. He even saw Fay mouth the words, though she stopped when she caught him looking. He stood, facing the window, the boy continuing to sing behind him.  The subject of the song turned to the present time. It described all the work, all the bitterness, and Edgar felt weary. His heart was heavy from all he hated and feared to lose, and the gently sung words stung like daggers. When you win, you sometimes lose, the boy sang, and all you love does not love you. At that, the pressure that had been building behind his eyes finally became too much, and Edgar McAlister wept.  

 

PROMISES 

“You did it! You madman, you actually did it!” Lloyd swept up his boyfriend in a hug and they spun around the room laughing.  “We’re going home!” They slowed and stopped their turning.  “So,” Lloyd said. “You cannot look back the entire way?”  “No.” Raven explained. “I can only look back when we both have reached the station.” Lloyd thought for a second. “Well, can we hold hands? Maybe a call-and-response thing? We can make this work, we-” Raven interrupted. “No, McAlister said I can’t know you’re there. It has to be done on trust alone.” Lloyd was quiet for a moment.   “Do you? Trust me, that is?” Raven opened his mouth, reconsidered his answer, and closed it again.   “You promised you’d come back.” He said. Lloyd took Raven hands in his own.   “I know. And I am so, so sorry. But you promised you could provide.” They stood there, each considering the mistakes of the past. “Look,” Lloyd said.  “I know I’m not always the most... empathetic. And I can’t promise I ever will be. But Ravey, I’m making a new promise to you. I swear, I will never, ever be disloyal to you. And I don’t mean that in the boring way most people do. Monogamy isn’t our thing.”  “It really isn’t.” Raven agreed.  “What we have, is so much more than that. I promise I will be loyal to you in every way that matters. And if we-” Lloyd caught himself. “When we hit a rough spot, we’ll figure it out. Together.” Raven smiled. “I have a new promise to make, too. I can’t promise we’ll have it easy. My songs aren’t going to make us rich, so I can’t promise you gold and silver.”  “I would never ask that of you.” Lloyd said. “I just want you to be there for me.”  “I will. I swear. I won’t lose myself in my work again, and I will shelter you.” The two men embraced. Lloyd trembled. “God, I wish I could kiss you.” Raven looked up and pecked him on the cheek.  “Don’t worry, love. We’ll figure something out.” He cupped his boyfriend’s face with his hand, and studied his face. It was the last time he would see it for a long time.   “Are you ready?”   “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You set the pace. I’ll follow.” Raven drank in the sight of his boyfriend, took a deep breath, and turned around. 

 

DOUBT COMES IN 

Raven blew in his chilly hands to warm them up. His legs ached and his back burned from carrying his guitar, but he had a smile on his face. He’d done it. He had walked in there and gotten Lloyd out. And now, they were going home.   The Floozies were walking alongside him.  “Do you really think he’s behind you?” They asked.  “Of course he is.” Raven responded. “Can’t you see him?” The three Floozies turned back, to where Raven couldn’t see, and just shrugged with a smile. Raven itched to turn back as well, but he suppressed the urge. “Don’t be a tease. I know he’s behind me, he said he’d follow.”  “Oh, “one said, “jus’ like he promised not to leave? How’d that turn out?”   Raven stopped in his tracks, but shook his head and continued.   “No, this is different. We’re different, now. No more broken promises.” The Floozies laughed in unison. They all had the exact same rhythm and pitch, and Raven felt a shiver up his spine.  “Aw, Raven-baby is delusional. Again.” They said. “Did he really promise to stay? Or did ya just think he did? You shouldn’t trust everything your brain tells ya, Raven-baby. It doesn’t have a great track record.” Raven’s hands started shaking. He grabbed the strap of his guitar across his chest and tried to argue back.  “It isn’t like that! I’m sane!” this time, his mind finished. He continued: “I-I haven’t had a major break in ages. There's no reason I would have one now.”   “Hm. Funny.” One of the Floozies said. “Ain’t that exactly what you thought last time?”  “You knew.” The second one said. “You knew all along you’d fall back eventually. It was inevitable.”  “No...” Raven protested. “It’s- I’m...” He tried to find the words to argue back, but he was too distraught. The Floozies looked at him with what seemed like pity.  “Poor, mad Raven-baby. Or was it David? Who are you again?”  “Shut up!” Raven shouted. His breathing quickened. “Don’t call me that!”  “You don’t even know who you are.” Their words cut into him, making him loose his footing and stumble. “Jus’ how many mental breakdowns do you expect him to put up with? You don’t deserve him. Why would he stay with a madman? He finally had enough of your crazy, and now he’s gone.”  Through his tears, Raven could see the train station. He quickened his pace. Just a bit more. He had to ignore the doubt gnawing away at him a bit longer, and then he could check.  The Floozies hounded him, their overlapping taunts matching what he heard in his head:  “You don’t deserve him-” “Just a madman-” “Who are you?” “Mr Adams-” “Not worth the effort-”   “-just keep reinventing yourself-” “Who are you?”  As Raven approached the station, the doubt became near certainty. Lloyd wasn’t there. Why would he be? He would turn around and be completely alone, yet again. Why delay it? As he started turning his head, he heard a call:   “Ravey, wait-!” 

 

ROAD TO HELL II / RAISE MY CUP 

The stranger stared at Michael. That can’t be it, surely? What happened, did they make it? Michael’s eyes were teary.  “I told ya: it’s a sad tale. An old one, as well. You knew from the start how it would end, if you’re honest. They changed the story, sure. As it’s been changed a thousand times before. But a tragedy’s a tragedy, ain’t no changing that.” He chuckled, but it came out more like a sob.  “In a way, I feel like Lloyd would’ve appreciated that.” He looked up, trying to keep the tears from falling out. “Ah, dangit, I told myself I wouldn’t cry this time...” He leaned forward, burying his face in his hands. He sat like that for a while.   “I wonder how much longer I can take.” He mumbled to no one in paticular. “Telling these stories. So much goddamn pain...” He took a shaky breath. “Alright. Alright...” He rubbed his face and sat back up, trying to compose himself.   “But even still, we keep telling ‘em anyway. ‘Cuz, here’s the thing: to know how it ends, and still to begin to tell it again. As though it might turn out this time.” He smiled sadly. “I learned that from a friend of mine.” 

The stranger heard the distant call of the train. “Well, what’d I tell ya? Right on time.” He got up from the bench. “I think that’s my cue. It was nice talking to you, stranger.  I hope you enjoyed my tale.” As the thick smoke of the train filled the station, it became harder and harder to see Michael. He waved goodbye.  “Good night, brother. Goodnight.” 

[xbaepsae]

heartbeat | part one (m)

“You fell in love with a boy who was in love with music, and you weren’t sure if he was capable of loving you the same way. This thought should’ve caused you to move away from him; but, if anything, it just drew you closer.“

[musician!yoongi x reader | jeongguk x reader]

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.4k

a/n: hello! happy new year! if you’ve followed me for over a year now, you will know that this is a reupload. i deleted all of my fics a few months ago, and now i’m finally ready to start writing again :) i’m not sure if i will reupload all of my previous works, but heartbeat means so much to me so i had to start off with it. when i first uploaded this fic series, there were four parts but i decided to condense them into two bc they’re not new and i’m only minimally changing some things. so, i hope you enjoy (if you’re reading this for the first time)! thanks for reading and excuse any grammatical errors lol. xoxo

part one | part two

The exact moment that you fell in love with Min Yoongi would be a moment you’d remember forever.

“Here,” he had said to you that day, “listen to this.”

He handed you a pair of beat-up headphones and you placed them over your ears. You hadn’t known what to expect, because honestly, the headphones were extremely uncomfortable, but what you heard next surprised you. It was a song—he wanted you to hear a song he composed. And the best thing of all was that he sang, even though you knew he hated singing. Yoongi handed you his notebook that day too; and as you read his lyrics and listened to his song, you knew you were done for.

Most people fall in love because they know they’ll be loved back. You fell in love with a boy who was in love with music, and you weren’t sure if he was capable of loving you the same way. This thought should’ve caused you to move away from him; but, if anything, it just drew you closer.

The year Yoongi played his first song to you, you were sixteen and already hopelessly in love.

Even though you were positive that the feelings inside of you were true, you never told him how you felt. At least, not until it suddenly spilled out of you. By this point, you were nineteen and still had everything bottled up inside of you. Yoongi was still a good friend to you and invited you over to his place to listen to more of his demos. This little listening session turned into sharing a few drinks.

And blame it on the alcohol; you don’t know why, but you suddenly said the three little words: I love you. The reality of your words didn’t hit you until moments later, and your eyes had nearly fallen out of their sockets. Yoongi stopped moving and looked at you with scrunched brows. What came next was what you had expected all along, but it still made you shatter into a million pieces.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but I don’t feel the same way.”

He had tried to explain that he did love you, but not in a romantic way. He saw you as a little sister, which had perhaps stung more than simply saying he didn’t like you. You went home that night and cried. And although his rejection stung, you learned to deal. You just pretended like the confession didn’t happen and, thankfully, Yoongi never brought it up again.

After the events of that night, you never drank so much around Yoongi again; alcohol clearly made you a little too honest, and you didn’t want to risk acting like a lovesick fool.

It would have made sense if you let the boy go after sister-zoning you, but you were such an idiot—you still loved him endlessly and you couldn’t just stop. Min Yoongi was like a drug that you couldn’t stop using. Everything about him was intoxicating. His passion for music was out of this world and, although he often had a cold exterior, you knew deep inside that he was soft as could be.

The year you turned twenty-one, your friendship seemed like it was fine; the same as it had always been. But you knew something was different when Yoongi stopped calling you over to listen to his new music. You didn’t know what you did wrong, or if you had done anything wrong at all. Yoongi was known to go into weird funks, so you didn’t question anything. Then, a whole month went by. That’s when you started getting worried. It was a Friday, after work, that you decided to pay him a visit. You swung by his apartment, using the spare under the mat, but no one was home. Hope was nearly lost, until you remembered that he was sharing a studio with someone.

When Yoongi told you that Namjoon had given him the opportunity to use a room in the studio, you were happy because it was a definite upgrade from the desk in his bedroom. You had met the guy a few times before, but he was always holed away in that studio. You guessed that Yoongi was there too; where else could he be? Since you had been to the studio once or twice, you had a general idea of where it was.

The studio was only a few blocks from the apartment so you made it there in only a few minutes. It was actually the basement of a small ramen place, and you always wondered if the couple who owned the place got annoyed with all the noise. But they were all smiles when they saw you and didn’t even look twice as you climbed down the stairs.

You pushed the door of the little studio open and immediately, you were greeted with Namjoon. He sat on the couch by the little window, a cigarette pulled to his lips. When he noticed your presence he stood up, discarding the narcotic. He stared at you with wide eyes, surprise marred across his features. Now that you think about it, you were quite rude that night; you completely ignored the poor guy and marched straight to the room you knew belonged to Yoongi.

Namjoon called your name, attempting to stop you. And now, you wished he would have.

You pushed the door of Yoongi’s room open, walking right in. Your lips had started to part, in hopes of speaking your mind, but the picture in front of you completely stopped you. All of the extra pairs of eyes in the room turned to you, but the only one you sought out didn’t even spare you a single glance.

“Y/n,” Yoongi said your name, finally acknowledging your presence.

“Wha—What’s going on here?” you asked, frozen in your spot.

A man in front of Yoongi stood up and suddenly extended his hand, “It has been my pleasure, Yoongi.”

“Mine as well; see you in Seoul.”

That was when everything made sense.

Yoongi had been avoiding you that entire month because he was making personal arrangements concerning his musical career. A part of you had been furious; why didn’t he say anything? Why did he have to stop talking to you for a month? Another part of you had been ecstatic for him; he was going to make it big, and you couldn’t be prouder. But despite all these mixed feelings, there was something larger weighing down on your shoulders—a part of you was scared. If Yoongi went to Seoul, you were going to lose him.

As the men finished congratulating him, they walked out and left you there alone to stare at him; you didn’t really know what to say. Should you congratulate him? Should you just leave?

“Were you never going to tell me?” was the only thing you mustered up.

His eyes rolled once before lazily meeting yours, “You’re my friend, y/n.”

“And?”

“Of course I would’ve told you.”

Your eyes move down to stare at the floor, “I doubt it.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he suddenly asked, and your body flushed in anger.

“What the hell is wrong with me? More like what the hell is wrong with you, Min Yoongi,” you said to him. “You claim that I’m your friend, yet you ignore me for an entire month. I thought that maybe you were just in a little music funk, but no—you were actually planning your career and didn’t even bother to tell me.”

“Is it so bad that I want to pursue music?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, it’s not; I’m actually really happy for you. But you don’t seem to get it—you didn’t tell me. If I hadn’t shown up today, I probably would’ve never known.”

“I said that I would’ve told you,” he argued. No, he wouldn’t have.

No longer knowing what to say, you backed out of the room and ran out of the studio. You rushed past Namjoon, past the ramen couple, and felt slightly bad for not saying goodbye, but you couldn’t stand looking at Min Yoongi anymore. You ran all the way home and didn’t stop until your body landed in the sheets of your bed.

That night, you cried again—he was always making you cry. You mostly cried because the truth, which you tried to suppress, was coming back to bite. Yoongi was never going to be capable of loving you as much as his music, and it hurt more at this moment than ever before.

You wondered for many years why your heart chose to beat for Min Yoongi. Why him of all people? Fate seemed cruel that way. Many times you wished to go back to how things were before he stepped in your life. But then you remembered that your life was rather dull without him. Even though Yoongi caused you a lot of pain, his presence was important.

Sure, he was cold and calculating, and he always got too consumed in his work, but behind it all, he was just a boy who loved music.

The next morning, you went back to the studio. Yoongi was already there, like you had predicted, and looked surprised to see you. In fact, it looked like he hadn’t even left the place—he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. The air had felt awkward, but you pushed past it and pulled your hands from behind your back, “Here.”

You handed him an iced Americano, and a few moments later he actually smiled. A relieved sigh left your mouth as he took the drink from your hands and began to sip it.

“What’s this for?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, shifting on your feet. “I overreacted and it’s not my place to question you. It’s your life, you should be able to do whatever you want.”

Yoongi looked in your eyes, “I’m sorry too. You were right, I probably wouldn’t have said anything—but that’s just how I am. I’ve always kept to myself, but you really are my friend and I also respect your opinion.”

Taking in his words, you nod once, still not able to look him in the eyes.

“So…when do you leave for Seoul?”

“Next month.” His answer was short and sweet, but the impact it has on you would’ve said otherwise.

“Really?” your voice sounded small. “So soon?”

He sighed, “It would’ve been sooner, but I told them I had some unfinished business here.”

You suddenly looked up and met his eyes, “What? Me?”

“I told you that you’re my friend; my only friend.”

“What about Namjoon?” you asked.

“Namjoon and I? We’re more like music colleagues; dudes who just do music together,” Yoongi said and you couldn’t help but laugh. “We’ve been through a lot, y/n—you’ve been through a lot with me. I’m grateful for that.”

There it was—there was the Min Yoongi you fell for. You yearned so much for him in that moment. You didn’t want him to leave; you didn’t want to lose him. But instead of verbalizing all of that, you merely smiled and showed him everything otherwise.

“I guess we’re going to have to make this month count, huh?”

Over the course of the next month, you proceeded to show him everything he would miss about your small town. You would say to him, I bet you Seoul doesn’t have this…even though you were sure Seoul would have something much better and greater. But the one thing Seoul would lack was you; and even though Yoongi mentioned numerous times how important you were to him, you just didn’t know how much.

Like all things in life, the day of his departure came and it was time to face reality. You walked him to the train station with heaviness weighing over you.

“Well…I guess this is it,” he said, looking down at you.

You looked into his eyes and felt the tears that threatened to overspill, “I guess so.”

And without much of a warning, he suddenly pulled you into a hug and the tears sprang free. You had tried to keep the tears at bay, but you just couldn’t help it. You clung onto him like your life depended on it; your hands fisted into his jacket, your head nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

“I’ll come back and visit, yeah?” he chuckled a bit to relieve the situation.

“You better, Min Yoongi,” you could barely muster up the words. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

You knew that you couldn’t hold onto him forever; you had to let go eventually. And you did, watching him step onto the train. The tears still fell down your face and your chest wouldn’t stop heaving. You saw him take a seat by the window and waved to him. He did the same, waving until the train departed the station and left your line of sight.

Once he was gone, your chest hurt—like there were a million fragmented pieces that couldn’t be mended together anymore.

The exact moment you experienced heartbreak with Min Yoongi would be a moment you’d remember forever.

***

He never did keep his promise.

You waited month after month for a visit, but a visit never came. You also waited for a phone call or message—one of those never came either. Even though you knew Yoongi had forgotten all about you already, there was still a smidge of hope in you and you didn’t know why.

The hope that you had for Yoongi to contact you contrasted deeply with how you actually felt about him; you still felt the same as the day he left—completely broken.

For a while, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You were a shell of the person you once were. You were in love with the guy, and he just up and left. It was honestly kind of sad how dependent you were on him, especially since to him you were just a friend.

You just missed him so much, so much that you found a job at a music store just to feel a little bit closer to him. It was pathetic, really; every day you were surrounded by music that he loved and if anything, it just made you miss him even more. Missing Yoongi and working at the store soon proved to be a bad combination.

Working in a music store meant you had to deal with masses of people whenever a new album dropped. At first, you really didn’t mind the masses; they kept you well occupied and mind off your problems. Being busy was a great distraction, at least until roughly about a year after Yoongi left for Seoul.

Your work day started off as any other day would; you clocked in, restocked the current music racks, and checked the new inventory. It was all fine and well until you checked to see who the album belonged to. It was a name you weren’t familiar with, but when you looked at the cover art you stopped breathing for a second. Shock racks its way through your body and the album nearly slips from your hand.

“Oh my god,” you whisper and run the computer.

Typing away at the keys, you search every article concerning the name and album. Soon enough, you pull up an article speaking about the new artist and nearly die on the spot. The new artist was Min Yoongi himself, now going by the stage name Suga.

You stare at the computer screen, at a loss for words.

Scanning the contents of the article, you read that Yoongi—Suga—was set to release his debut album. And apparently, many music critics were anticipating the drop due to a preview of his single that dropped a few days ago. You click on the link that leads to you a video and a song begins playing. It’s short, only fifteen seconds long, but leaves your chest heaving.

You look through a few more articles before you hear your name being called.

“Y/n, you’ve got customers,” your manager calls.

“I’m coming,” you answer even though you want to keep looking through the internet, but you also don’t want to get fired.

You walk back out into the main area of the store and see a young man browsing the vinyl shelves. Looking around, you notice that there is no one else in the store and you almost want to scream at your manager for making you come out for one person. He didn’t even look like he needed help. But you walk up to him anyway and put on your best fake smile.

“Hi, do you need help with anything?” you ask in a voice that sounds way too cheery, even for your own ears.

The guy looks over at you, “I’m just looking around, but thanks anyway.”

He turns his attention back to the vinyl in his hands, and you can’t help but look at it too. You notice the familiar cover and smile, “I really like that album.”

“Really?” he looks at you surprised. “Not many people listen to them anymore.”

“Yeah, they’re a band Yo—” you catch yourself, “an old friend introduced me to a long time ago.”

Yoongi had introduced you to them sometime around when the two of you had first become friends, and you had loved them since. Seeing the album stings a little, nostalgia from the past resurfacing.

The guy offers you a wide smile, “Your friend has great taste then.”

For a moment, you feel struck by this stranger’s smile. A warmth you haven’t felt in a while fills you up at how genuine it seems.

“By the way, I’m Jeongguk,” he introduces himself to you.

“Y/n,” you reply, shaking yourself out of the little trance.

“So y/n, how long have you been working here?”

“Just the past year,” you tell him.

Jeongguk nods, “So you like music then?”

Only because of Min Yoongi. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The conversation hits a lull, but you find yourself not moving away from him yet. Jeongguk has picked up another vinyl by this point, seemingly moved on. You take this moment to ask him again if he’s sure that he doesn’t need your assistance. But the boy just kindly declines your offer and you finally begin to walk away. Before you can very far, however, something stops you.

“Since you like music, there’s a show happening at a bar near here tonight. A friend bailed on me, so I have an extra ticket…did you want to go?”

You turn around, slightly biting your lips, “Tonight?”

“Yeah, it’s tonight,” he says looking a bit flustered. “I mean, I understand if it’s too short of a notice—or if you just don’t want to go. It’s just an offer but I get it if you—”

“I’ll go,” laughter comes with your response. He was kind of cute when he didn’t know what to say.

“Really?” Jeongguk looks shocked by your answer; and honestly, you kind of were yourself. “You’ll go?”

Nodding with a small smile, you say, “Sure, why not?”

“I mean...you just met me,” he says.

“You just met me too,” you retort, raising a brow.

“Touché,” he smiles. “When do you get off?”

“At five.”

He pulls out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and unlocks it, scrolling through something. Suddenly, he tosses the phone to you, “Here.”

You barely catch it, the phone awkwardly wedged in-between both of your hands. When you hold the phone properly, you discover that his contacts page is up. Jeongguk quickly tells you that he, in his own words, kind of needs your number if he is to pick you up at your place later. You feel your face begin to heat a little, but type your number and save it under your name.

Handing him back the phone, you smile, “Just text me and I’ll text you my address when I get off.”

After a few more exchanges, Jeongguk leaves the store with a see you later and a strange happiness you haven’t felt in a long time washes over you.

***

As the hours tick by, you find yourself getting more and more excited about the nights promised event.

This was going to be the first social outing you attended in, what has seemed like, forever. And while you were extremely excited to go out, there was an impending sense of distress lingering in your mind.

You just didn’t want to make a fool out of yourself.

So when the time reads just a few seconds past five, you clock out faster than you ever have before and bolt home. Walking into your apartment, you pull out your phone and see a message from an unknown number. You swipe the message and smile when you realize that it’s Jeongguk. You type out your address, send, and are pleasantly surprised when he replies back within seconds.

The two of you text back and forth for a few minutes, and he lets you know that the show doesn’t start until eight. But before you can suggest that it would be okay if you just met him there, he says he’ll pick you up half an hour earlier.

You spend the next two hours frantically searching for an outfit to wear. These things all seemed like foreign concepts to you; you have no idea what to do. It was like you were suddenly unskilled in the art of date preparation.

Up until the last mere seconds, you struggle with your hair and makeup. You barely get a second to compose yourself before the doorbell rings.

Running to the door, while simultaneously slipping your shoes on, you open it and see Jeongguk standing there. You take a split second to do a once over, and are surprised by how nicely he is dressed. But perhaps your split-second stare is too long because Jeongguk raises a brow and your face immediately heats up.

You awkwardly cough, “Um, hi.”

“Hey,” he smiles, showcasing cute bunny-like teeth and your embarrassment soon fades away.

The walk to the bar is surprisingly not that bad. You had expected it to be painfully weird, but it’s not; you find yourself carrying an easy conversation with Jeongguk. When the two of you reach the bar, you actually feel sad that the conversation has to end.

“So, who is playing tonight anyway?” you ask, walking into the dimly lit place.

Jeongguk leads you to a set of empty chairs. “They’re a local band; I think that’s them right now.”

He points behind you, which causes you to turn around and see a stage lit up with various spotlights. On the stage, you see a group of guys plugging up equipment and instruments.

“Do you know them?” you ask, turning back to face him.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “well, not personally at least. I’ve heard their music before and it’s great.”

You nod and smile a little, “I’m excited.”

“Good,” Jeongguk returns the smile. “By the way, did you want anything to drink?”

He tells you that it’s only normal to order drinks, since the two of you are at a bar. You laugh and say that you’re up for anything; you were never too picky about your alcoholic beverages. “So…anything?”

��Yeah, I’m cool with whatever,” you assure him.

Jeongguk leaves with the promise of bringing you a drink that you’ll love. Once he is gone, you settle into a chair, looking around the room and taking in all the décor along the walls. The bar is small, but it has a nice feeling to it and you wonder why you have never bothered to come before.

There were many times you had walked right past the tinted windows of this place, not even sparing the deep red brick walls a second glance.

You return your attention back to the stage just as the band begins playing. Not only are they extremely talented, they also manage to get the crowd excited—which is really impressive. Unconsciously, your hands begin clapping along to the beat of the drums.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The voice startles you for a second, until you realize it’s just Jeongguk. He stands beside you with a drink in each hand, and a smile stretched across his face.

You smile sheepishly, “Uh…yeah; the music’s great.”

He laughs, “I told you.”

Jeongguk hands you a drink and you take a sip, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat. The drink isn’t bad at all and you end up downing the entire thing in a few seconds. You set the glass down and look over at Jeongguk, whose eyes are wide.

“What?”

“Well damn, y/n…” he says and you realize how crazy you must’ve looked just a few seconds ago.

“High alcohol tolerance?” is your lame excuse; it’s obvious that Jeongguk doesn’t buy it, but he just laughs again and begins to sip his own drink.

The little gig continues on, and you find yourself having a great time. You realize how much fun being around Jeongguk is—he dances along to each song, adlibs a bit, shouts with the band, and unwillingly makes you do it all too. And as embarrassing as it is, you don’t mind looking stupid as long as it’s with him.

For the first time in a long time, you’re having fun and the change feels great.

After a few more songs, the band lets the crowd know that their set has come to an end—to which Jeongguk boos along with the crowd and demands an encore. You just shake your head and laugh at his antics. Fortunately, for Jeongguk’s sake, they agree on one more song. And the boy is so happy you can’t help but feel the emotion too.

When the show is officially over, Jeongguk offers to walk you home—he claims it to be the gentlemanly thing to do—and you don’t dare argue. The walk back to your apartment is spent talking more about music under the lights of the small town. In all honesty, you had forgotten how pretty it could be at night.

“If you like the band that played tonight, there’s another similar one that’s playing at the same location next week…”

You look up as Jeongguk trails off, his face softy illuminated by the streetlights. “Are you asking me out again?” You tell him this with a raised brow and enjoy it when he starts to look all flustered.

“Um…no,” he scratches the back of his head, “…maybe?” He says all of this without looking at you, which you find absolutely adorable.

“Well, if you’re maybe asking me out…I’ll maybe say yes.” You laugh at your own words and only cease when you suddenly feel Jeongguk stop walking, and grab both of your hands. You jump a little at the contact, his warm hands a stark contrast against the cool night.

“Really?” he smiles widely, revealing a bunny-like grin.

“Uh…s-sure,” you stutter, but pray that he didn’t notice.

“Cool,” he says, lifting up his chin. “Then, will you go out with me again?”

You tell him yes and he practically skips the rest of the way to your place—one hand still tightly clutching one of yours.

The rest of the way there, you can’t even think straight. Your mind screams he’s holding your hand y/n! and you can’t stop the thought from resurfacing every point five seconds. But once you see your building come into view, you release a slight sigh of relief.

“Well, I guess this is it.” Your feet plant onto the stiff fabric of your doormat, slowly kicking at it. You look up at Jeongguk, only to see that he’s already staring right at you.

“Thanks again for coming out tonight,” he smiles.

You return it, “Thanks for inviting me.”

A moment of silence passes between the two of you and you don’t know if you should go inside, or do anything at all. It also doesn’t help that Jeongguk is still firmly holding onto your hand. As you finally decide to just call it a night, you turn around and slip your key inside the lock.

“Y/n?” Jeongguk suddenly calls your name.

Turning around, you’re about to ask him why he called your name. But before you can, you realize that he is inches away from you. His hand has detangled from your own and found its way to your face, gently cupping it.

“What—” and as the word leaves your lips, his own meet yours.

And you’re frozen; mind devoid of thoughts, body incapable to moving. But just as quick as everything begins, it all ends just as fast. The warmth emitting from his body is gone, and all you want to do is have it back.

“Have a good night, y/n,” he says, hand caressing your face.

“You too,” you reply quietly, head spinning.

Jeongguk’s thumb runs over your cheek one last time before he leaves. And even when he is gone, you continue to stand there completely dumbstruck. Eventually, you realize how strange this all looks—meaning, what if one of your neighbors saw you—and snap yourself out of the trance.

Shutting the door behind you and walking down the hall to your bedroom, you run a finger over your lips the entire time. Once you reach your room, you fall onto the bed with a sigh and stare at the ceiling. You don’t know how long you stare, but what you do know is Jeongguk plagues all your thoughts. Everything almost feels like a dream, but the only thing reminding you that this is reality is the warmth you still feel pulsating through your hands.

Somewhere beside you, your phone vibrates and your hand flies over your covers searching for it. Once you get ahold of it, you press the power button on the side and see a text message from Jeongguk.

Instantly, your heart starts to beat a little faster.

You swipe his name and see the cheesiest goodnight text that nearly makes you throw your phone across the room, but you love it at the same time. The question of whether or not to text back stresses you for a moment before you decide to hell with it, responding with a simple goodnight.

It was clearly the easy thing to do, but you have had enough over-stimulation of feelings today to last forever. You don’t expect Jeongguk to text back, it was late after all. So you decide to head off into dreamland yourself, already dreading going back to work in the morning.

Washing up, you change into your pajamas and slip underneath your covers. In the drawer of your nightstand, you pull out an extremely worn-out journal and fish for a pen. Every night, you write out the events of your day. The good, the bad, the ugly—everything. It was therapeutic, really; you have been doing it every night since…

And that’s when you realize Min Yoongi hasn’t crossed your mind a single time the entire night. This was a first for you; you were used to him filling even the littlest of your thoughts.

Not only was it a relief, but you could breathe again.

***

You think about Jeon Jeongguk for days after the kiss.

During your shifts at the music store, you randomly find yourself unconsciously running a finger over your lips; as you do this, you think beyond your shock of the overall situation and vividly recall how soft his lips had felt against yours.

Not only do you think about the kiss, but the feeling of his fingers against your skin still lingers and it drives you insane. As much as you try to make everything go away, he never leaves your thoughts.

Strangely enough, you pray that he shows up at the shop. Every time the door chimes open, you look up expecting Jeongguk to stand there smiling; but of course, he doesn’t walk in.

You don’t see him again until the next Friday, when he rings your doorbell again.

“Date number two already?” you say the moment you see his face, trying not to look too eager. But as you drink in his outfit and how his dark hair is parted to the side, you are sure that the façade falls.

“You’re the one who said yes.” A smile lights his face. “Ready?”

All you do is nod and Jeongguk slips his hand into yours immediately, as if it was something completely natural, and your heart starts to pound a little faster.

***

“Remember when we first met?” Jeongguk asks you one day, a few weeks after that second date, while lightly nipping at your neck. The two of you were watching a movie in your small apartment, a routine that started occurring every Tuesday night.

You moan at the feeling of his lips against your bare skin, merely nodding because you can’t even begin to process actual words. The memory of your first meeting briefly fills your mind; you remember feeling an array of emotions that morning: shock from Yoongi’s new album, a connection with Jeongguk, and a pleasant surprise from how it all turned out to be.

“Well, I lied.”

“What?" You’re confused. What did he even lie about?

“When I asked you how long you had been working there, I actually already knew the answer.”

With that, Jeongguk begins to suck on your sensitive skin and you clutch onto him tighter. “Are you a stalker?”

He pulls away, laughing, “No—I’ve been to your job multiple times before. Meaning, I’ve seen you before that first time we formally met.”

“Then why did you even ask?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” his lips are close to your skin again, “like, have a real conversation aside from the generic how can I help you. I wanted to from the moment I first walked into the store, but I was always too afraid.”

“What gave you the courage to speak with me?”

“Truthfully? When you told me you liked that album.” Jeongguk raises his head, looking into your eyes. He smiles, bringing a hand to your face. It’s the same look he gave you that particular morning, and you melt on the spot.

“Really?”

He smiles even wider, “I’m pretty sure I fell for you on the spot. I had never met anyone who had the same appreciation for music like me before”

Fell for you. You can only hear those three words.

“Y/n, I don’t know if what I feel for you is love…but I know damn sure that it’s close,” as he says this, you can see how genuine his eyes are—so large and vulnerable.

For a moment, you don’t say anything. What can you say? The boy just spilled everything to you, but you aren’t exactly sure how to spill everything you feel too. But you must hesitate too long because Jeongguk’s face begins to change; he’s second-guessing himself. So you crash your lips onto his, cutting off any words he has to say.

In the kiss, you try to tell him you’re falling for him too. You try to express that in a way, he saved you from the person you were becoming. And you only pull away when you feel that he understands.

“You made me nervous for a second,” Jeongguk breathes.

“I’m bad with words,” you say, fiddling with your fingers. You only cease when he grabs your hands, holding them tight.

He laughs, “A simple same would’ve sufficed.” And that’s when you push yourself away from him.

“Stop making me feel bad.”

Jeongguk wraps his arms around you, “I was just joking.”

And you can’t help but give into his embrace, his warmth filling you. At this moment, you feel whole; a smile makes its way onto your face as you think about the words Jeongguk said to you again.

You bury your head into the crook of his shoulder and whisper a few words that are barely audible to your own ears. You aren’t sure if Jeongguk heard them, but you get your answer as his body tenses up. “What did you say?”

Lifting your head off, you press a gentle kiss against his lips, “I want you.”

He stares at you, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

“You said that you’re falling for me, right?” you quirk an eyebrow up.

“Yeah…but I want you to be ready…”

You press yourself closer to him, finding a surge of courage to trail a series of kisses against his jaw, “I am…”

“Really?” his breaths are already uneven.

“I feel the same way about you, Jeongguk,” you look up at him, “and I want this—I really do.”

And you aren’t lying; you thought that maybe you’d be shaking with nerves right now, but you’re strangely calm. You really want to share this experience with him. This was by no means going to be your first time, but you had held it off with Jeongguk because what you are beginning to feel is real with him.

He isn’t just someone you want to fuck and then forget about—this time is different. He’s different than the other guys you’ve used to take your mind off Yoongi.

“You’re sure about this?” Jeongguk asks.

You nod once, “Positive.”

And before you can say anything else, your body is raised off the couch by Jeongguk and he practically races to the bedroom.

“Hey, how do you know where my room is?” you giggle, teasing him.

He makes it there in no time and drops you onto the white sheets covering your bed, smirking at you before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I’ve been dreaming about this for a while now.”

You instantly go hot, red flushing your entire body. And you aren’t sure what to say, feeling speechless from what he just said. Somehow, your mouth musters up something but you swear that they probably aren’t even actual words.

Jeongguk stands up straight and peels the t-shirt he is wearing off, and you can barely contain the need inside as you take in his taut physique. You loved him for his sweet personality and his body was icing on the cake. He then loosens the buckle on his jeans and takes them off, and you notice immediately how hard he is already.

Your brain can barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

Leaving his boxers on, Jeongguk helps you out of your shirt. When he unclasps your bra, he moans at the sight of your bare breasts and begins kissing down your body. He starts from your collarbones to your breast, and then your stomach to right below your bellybutton. Every kiss is fire, igniting a small gasp from your lips.

He continues teasing kisses above the edges of your shorts and you just want to beg him to rip them off already. After another few kisses, he slowly tugs the material down, leaving you almost fully exposed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jeongguk’s eyes are dark and dilated. One of his hands has moved up to cup and pinch your nipples, eliciting a moan from you.

And although he has barely touched you, you can already feel your body drumming with excitement.

“Touch me, Jeongguk,” you say, moving his hand directly to where you want him to be.

He curses at how your juices have started to soak through. You begin rotating your hips slowly, feeling bolder as Jeongguk begins to crumble before you. He leans down to kiss you deeply and slips two fingers underneath the waistband of your panties.

The moment he begins to circle his fingers around your clit you fall back in pleasure. You moan at the pressure he applies; he knows just what to do and it feel so damn good. With each sound that comes from your mouth, Jeongguk moves his fingers faster and you feel yourself becoming undone.

But just before your high comes, he stops. A frustrated moan leaves your lips. You lift your head up and narrow your eyes, “Stop teasing.”

Jeongguk just laughs and peels your underwear down your legs, tossing it to the side. Then, he brings his fingers back to your clit, rubbing it a few times before sliding two fingers inside of you.

You moan his name as you prop yourself up on your forearms. The same high from earlier begins to build up again and you want it come badly. He begins pumping his fingers in and out, building a steady rhythm. Your hips unconsciously begin to buckle up, meeting his finger thrusts.

“Oh my god—I’m close,” you tell him, body tightening up.

And as Jeongguk eases another finger inside, that’s it—you scream his name as an orgasm deliciously washes over you.

He pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his mouth.

“Fuck!” you’re sensitive and Jeongguk lapping at your core doesn’t help. Soon, you feel another wave of pleasure hit you. Jeongguk quickly cleans you up and lifts his head off to crush you with a kiss. On his tongue, you can taste yourself and it makes you even more eager to have him inside you.

You voice this thought out loud and he wastes no time stripping his boxers off, revealing his hard cock already dripping with pre-cum. You lick your lips as Jeongguk reaches for his discarded jeans and retrieves a little foil packet. He rips the packet and rolls the condom over himself.

“Ready?” he asks, positioning himself over you.

You nod your head and he slowly enters you. The both of you groan at the stretch. Jeongguk was bigger than you thought, but you were so wet it barely hurt.

“Holy shit, you feel so good, y/n,” Jeongguk says once he’s all the way in.

“Move, Jeongguk,” you tell him, and he begins to move his hips.

Everything just feels so good and you can’t stop moaning. You bring your hands to cup your breast, kneading them and pinching your nipples. Jeongguk picks up his pace, digging his fingers into your hips as he pounds his cock deep inside of you. And just as pressure begins to build inside of you, he pulls out of you.

The loss of contact makes you let out a string of profanities. “What the hell?”

You watch as Jeongguk moves so he’s laying against the headboard of your bed. He smirks and motions with two fingers for you to come over. Even with your aching body, you crawl over to him and straddle his hips.

“Ride me, baby girl,” he whispers as you lean in to kiss him. The pet name causes your insides to twist up and a stupid smile to grace your face.

You lift yourself up and let him slip right into you. Moving your hips in a circle, you grind and watch Jeongguk’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Just like that,” he moans and you begin moving up and down.

Jeongguk kneads his hands into your ass and you moan when he moves them up to your nipples, pinching and twisting. After a few more thrusts, you let him that you’re going to cum again and he lifts you up a bit and begins slamming himself into you.

“Ohmygodjeongguk,” you can’t even breathe.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. And what sets you off is when Jeongguk brings his fingers to your throbbing bundle of nerves, rubbing until your second orgasm of the night hits you.

Immediately, you collapse into Jeongguk, feeling completely spent and exhausted. He continues thrusting into you, riding out your high, until he reaches his own. When he does, he moans your name and you press a few kisses on his chest.

The both of you don’t say anything for a moment, still catching your breaths.

“Wow,” you finally say, and you can feel Jeongguk’s chest vibrate with laughter. You lift your head up and raise a brow, “What’s so funny?”

He just smiles, “Nothing. It’s just that wow is the perfect word. You’re amazing…”

Your face heats.

“…and beautiful.”

You become even redder, leaning back down to bury yourself into the crook of his neck. And Jeongguk doesn’t say anything else; he just wraps you in his arms and savors the moment.

***

In the blink of an eye, six whole months go by.

Time spent with Jeongguk makes hours feel like seconds. When the two of you are together, you forget all of your problems and are filled with an abundance of happiness. And sometimes, you can’t even believe that you’ve only known him for a short time; it feels like you’ve known him forever.

With him, you feel at ease. You don’t have to try to be something you’re not.

And as Jeongguk begins to fill a void in your life, you think of Yoongi less and less. Sometimes, he feels like a person you just made up; and then you see his promotional posters and suddenly remember how real he was. But the pain is lesser now; your heart no longer calls for him in a sea of unrequited love.

You’ve finally embraced a new start.

Also, you feel…happy. Really happy. You realized that you are deserving of happiness and love; the thought that you actually considered following Yoongi around like a lost puppy for all your days seems nearly unbelievable now. The girl you were back then is someone you don’t want to be again. It’s unhealthy to love someone so much just to not be loved back.

“What are you thinking about?”

Jeongguk’s voice brings you out of your daze. You blink a few times, “Nothing.”

You look up at the boy your heart has grown immensely for and you can barely stop the smile from gracing your face. You barely recognized yourself sometimes; who was this new y/n who smiled all the time?

“Admit it—you were thinking about how hot I am, right?”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you roll your eyes dramatically, laughter bubbling from your lips. “But if you really want to know…I was thinking about how happy you make me.”

The smirk on his face softens to a gentle smile and he captures your lips in a kiss. He brings both hands to cup your face and press your bodies closer together. Desire begins to pool inside of you, and you want nothing more than for Jeongguk to push you against the bed and pull your panties aside.

“We have to go, Jeongguk,” you murmur as his lips travel down your neck.

He groans against your skin, “Right…we have plans.”

Your mind flashes back to just a few hours earlier. It was your day off so you had spent the majority of your time just lounging around, not being extremely productive. You finally got out of your bed around noon when Jeongguk stopped by, bringing some lunch with him.

Food was always great, so you two just popped some Netflix on and sat together for an hour. The two of you were halfway into some movie when Jeongguk turned toward you and suddenly said, “Let’s go out tonight.”

You had thought about it for a second, “Sure, why not?”

It had been a few weeks since the two of you had spent some quality time together…outside of your apartments. Jeongguk said he knew the perfect place for you two to go and that he’d be back tonight to pick you up.

“It was your idea,” you gently remind him.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “but I didn’t think you would wear that dress.”

You were wearing one of your favorite dresses; a little maroon number that flattered the curves of your body well. The first time you wore the dress, it was sometime after your first night together, Jeongguk nearly made the two of you miss your dinner reservations.

“And?”

He raises a brow, “I don’t even want to go out anymore.”

You just laugh at his tone as he stands up and brushes his hair back. “We’ll have time later.” You look up at him with the promise in your eyes and notice his eyes darken considerably.

As you get up off the edge of your bed, smoothing out your dress, Jeongguk pulls your body close and you yelp at the sudden movement. He kisses you one final time before you slip your shoes on and the two of you walk out the door.

He drives down your street and under the city lights, which cast a gorgeous glow against his skin. Jeongguk steers with one hand, while the other intertwines with yours.

“So where are we going?” you ask.

“It’s somewhere new,” is all he says. And when he pulls up to the place, it is somewhere the two of you haven’t been before. At least, you hadn’t been here with him before.

You turn to face him as he parks his car in a vacant spot, “A club?”

And it wasn’t that you were opposed to the idea of clubbing, but you didn’t think that Jeongguk was into these sorts of places. He was a let’s just chill and go to small bar type of guy, or so you thought.

“This isn’t really our typical scene, I know, but a friend told me about some hip musician coming out tonight and I just had to check it out,” he explains. “We don’t have to stay long, if you don’t want.”

“I don’t mind it at all,” you tell him and he smiles.

“Great.”

The two of you get out of the car and walk to the doors. Even though it was the middle of the week, there was a line circling the place and cameras everywhere.

“Who’s the musician?” you ask your boyfriend, realizing all the people must be here for him.

Jeongguk just shrugs, “I don’t know who he is, but I do know that he’s huge in Seoul.”

“So why the hell is he here?”

“Beats me,” he laughs.

You and Jeongguk end up waiting in line for probably fifteen minutes. And when you get inside the club, you’re at a loss for words at how grand and colorful everything is. The last time you had been in here was high school, and the place had been less than stellar.

“Woah,” you breathe, “when did they renovate this place?”

“Apparently, someone bought it out and changed everything.”

“That’s amazing.”

Following Jeongguk, he leads you two deeper into the club and to the bar. He orders a beer while you order the special for tonight. When the bartender hands you the concoction, the drink is a shade of bright pink and Jeongguk nearly chokes at the sight.

“What’s in that thing?” he asks.

“A little of everything,” the bartender smiles. “It’s a favorite of the owner.”

While your boyfriend is clearly worried for your life, you just shrug and remind him of your high alcohol tolerance with a smile. Jeongguk just rolls his eyes and prompts you to try it. You tip your head back and let the pink liquid flow down your throat. It’s gone within seconds, and you set the glass down with a grimace.

“It’s…interesting,” you say with a slight cough. “People don’t order more than one, right?”

Bartender guy just shrugs and smirks, “Depends.”

You didn’t even want to know. The drink honestly wasn’t that great; all the different alcohols made it too strong and overwhelming. You tell the bartender you’re fine, not really feeling like drinking the night away. Instead, you drag Jeongguk out to the dancefloor and demand that he show you his best moves. He laughs and says that he doesn’t know how, but you just raise a brow not convinced.

“You’re way too smooth in bed not to have dancing experience,” you tell him boldly, enjoying how his eyes deeply look into yours underneath the colored LED lights. And he doesn’t say anything at your comment, choosing to let his actions speak instead.

Jeongguk places his hands on your hips before roughly pulling you closer, so your body aligns perfectly with his. You nearly moan at the contact, excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“You make it awfully difficult to control myself,” he says, looking down at you.

“What if that’s the goal?”

You begin to dance to the music, moving along with the beat and remembering to push your body harder against Jeongguk every now and then. Surprisingly, he dances with you too; he moves fluidly with the song and even catches the attention of a few women around you.

When the song ends, you start breathing harder and smile at your boyfriend, “I thought you said you couldn’t dance?”

He just shrugs, “I guess it’s natural.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes with a smile and tell him that you need to use the bathroom.

You walk away from Jeongguk and say you’ll find him at the bar later. You aren’t sure where the restrooms are, since there weren’t signs anywhere. But eventually, you find a little hole in the wall of the club and are relieved to see a glowing sign that reads women. You walk inside not expecting much, but what you see is a pleasant surprise.

This was a definite upgrade from the previous bathroom they had. The walls were painted a pretty shade of blue and neon pink lights were placed around randomly. But the best part was that the room was air-conditioned.

Your main issue with the bathrooms last time was that they lacked proper ventilation, which sucked. It was already hot enough in the main area of the club. And that was why you told Jeongguk you needed to use the bathroom—you just needed a breather.

After washing your hands and checking your makeup, you walk back out and feel the wave of humidity wash over you. It was gross, but you needed to find Jeongguk. The club was a lot bigger than you remembered and you end up forgetting which direction the main bar is. All the walking was making your heel clad feet begin to ache. You just wanted to take them off and go barefoot, but the floors of this place were probably filthy.

You end up finding an empty table to lean against for a moment and pull out your phone…which you realize you left with Jeongguk since you had no pockets. Great. You decide to just wait and let him find you himself; you knew he would come for you eventually.

And as you’re waiting for Jeongguk to show up, you listen to the music. All the songs that play are some that you know well, until one comes on that you’ve never heard of before. Despite being a clear dance song, it has a certain aesthetic quality and you love it. The production is done well and must have taken a while to create. The words of the song are also quite deep and you really feel the emotions coming from the singers. You can’t really tell who the artist is, since it has a vocalist and a rapper, but you were sure it was someone you have heard of before.

But before you can try to guess the singers, it ends and you make a mental note to search it up later when you get home.

“And that ladies and gents was the newest single from our very own Suga!” You hear someone shout that through the speakers and immediately your body goes rigid despite the cheers from the crowds.

It was no secret how famous Suga has gotten over the last few months. Ever since the drop of his album, he has topped every music chart there is. You can’t even begin to recall how many times his album sold out at the store, people leaving empty-handed and disappointed.

And with this newfound popularity, you now saw his face everywhere.

Every billboard had his face plastered on it and every other television commercial was him. It was like you couldn’t escape his presence at all. But seeing this new Suga person all over the place didn’t feel like Yoongi to you all.

Suga was just another pop star to you. And as if the universe was playing games with you, you begin to hear his voice.

“…It’s nothing, really. It was a project I’ve been working on the moment I went to Seoul.”

That’s when it hits you—the musician who is here tonight at the club is none other than Yoongi himself. The thought nearly makes you throw up. You figured he would spend the rest of his days in Seoul, working on music and doing concerts. The last thing you expected was for him to show up here again, a place where the two of you used to hang out.

Why did he come back?

Why was he here?

You can’t see his face anywhere, but it was his voice—you’d know it anywhere. You nearly want to punch yourself for not recognizing his voice in the song. But perhaps time made you less tuned to him.

Even though you didn’t know where Yoongi was in the club, he was close and you could feel your body begin to shake. His voice gets closer and closer and you realize it’s coming from in front of you.

So you tilt your head down, hoping he doesn’t see you.

You haven’t given Min Yoongi much time or thought these last few months and you really didn’t want to start now. Besides, you haven’t thought about what you’d say if you ever saw him again because you never thought you would see him again. But your body betrays you and as he begins to walk in your line of sight, you look up and meet his gaze immediately.

Whatever he was saying ceases and his entire facial expression changes.

A year changes a person. So, imagine how much someone could change in almost two years. Yoongi was no exception to that fact. His once dark hair that you remembered so well was a shade of pink now, practically glowing underneath the lights. The way he carried himself was different too; he was confident now, standing tall and dressed from head to toe like a true star.

You wish, more than anything, that you could read his mind. What was he thinking? Did he see how much you had changed too?

“Y/n,” he’s the first to say anything, taking a step closer to you. The people he was with tell him that they’ll catch him before the nights done and walk away. You wanted to yell for them to come back and take him away; you didn’t want to talk.

He walks until he is standing a foot away from you, and everything feels surreal. And your heart—your stupid, stupid heart—is beating so fast.

“Hey,” he says, “how have you been?”

You just look up at him, not understanding why he’s trying to talk to you. But you tell him that you’re doing well and there is obvious surprise in his eyes. “Why? Didn’t think I could be happy?”

He shakes his head, “Of course not; you deserve to be happy, y/n. I just…I just didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

“Just because you left for Seoul doesn’t mean I did,” and you don’t know what’s happening, but a dam seems to break inside of you. “And literally what the hell; how dare you have the nerve to ask how I’m doing and act surprised that I’m here tonight. You haven’t talked to me for almost two years, Yoongi. Two years.”

“Y/n…”

“Do you even know…” you can feel the tears starting to fill your eyes. “Fuck. I was doing great Yoongi, and seeing you here again has reminded me of everything I tried to forget.”

You were getting louder and starting to cause a scene. People were staring and probably wondering why a girl like you was talking to Suga—Seoul’s hottest rapper. Yoongi must notice all the stares too because he suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you off the table, and drags you away. You try to resist him, but his hold on you is strong and he doesn’t stop until he reaches a secluded area of the club. It’s a dimly lit hallway with some posters adorning the walls.

“Let go of me,” you jerk your hand away from him and he releases it.

“I think we need to talk, y/n.”

You nearly laugh at his words, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“What were you trying to say back there?” he asks, ignoring you.

He was never going to let this go and you hated yourself for letting emotions cloud your judgment. You think about everything that’s happened over the last two years. When Yoongi left, you seriously thought that your life was over. You don’t even remember how many sleepless nights you had, wishing that he would just call you. Thinking about how sad your life was back then hurts.

“When you left I…why didn’t you call?” you can hear your own voice breaking. “Why didn’t you text? Or something?”

He rakes a hand through his hair, “I don’t know…”

“Do you know how long I waited?”

Yoongi looks at you as a tear falls down your face. You quickly swipe it away, clearing your throat. As bad as he had fucked your life over, there was a light at the end of the tunnel—Jeongguk. Although he was no Yoongi, he made you feel almost normal again. You weren’t kidding when you said that he saved you.

You think about Jeongguk and his endearing smile, realizing he must be so worried about you. “I’m happy now—happier than when you were around,” you tell him, and he winces at the words.

“Why didn’t you wait a little longer?” the question slips so softly out of Yoongi’s mouth you almost didn’t hear it. You look at him confused; what did even mean?

“I don’t know; guess I got tired of waiting.”

At this point, you’ve backed yourself against one side of the hall and Yoongi’s at the other. But with your answer, he closes the gap between the two of you. He’s so close you can feel his breath fan your hair. You swallow nervously, the hallway suddenly feeling too hot.

“I’m sorry,” he says and your hands tighten into fists. “For hurting you and not calling. I fucked up, y/n. Please forgive me?”

“That’s all you can say? You want me to forgive you for not calling?” You look into his eyes. “I wish you would apologize for making me love you.”

Where your words came from, you had no idea. But even you’re shocked that they came out at all. Yoongi seems equally, or more, shocked that you brought up the conversation the two of you had years ago. “You still…you love me?”

You advert your eyes from him. He probably thinks you’re foolish to still love him. After all, he did reject you. Yoongi probably thought you were some sad case to still feel this way about him despite how much time has passed already.

“I don’t know,” you say, looking down. “I’ve moved on, I really have, but I think…I think a part of me will always love you.”

“Y/n,” he says your name and you muster a bit of courage to look up.

“You don’t have to say anything. You don’t owe me words,” a sigh leaves your mouth. “I still remember that night in your apartment when you told me that you didn’t feel the same way. I thought I had grown past that moment already. I—”

But before you can go on about how stupid you are, Yoongi brings his arms up to cage you between the wall and him. You let out a shaky breath at his sudden closeness.

“You talk too much,” he says, voice low. “You always have.”

Your nerves are too bundled up to laugh at his comment.

Instead, you ask, “Why are you here tonight?”

“Seoul’s amazing, but I’ve missed home…and you.”

The way Yoongi looks at you leaves you at a loss for words. He missed you? Although his words made your heart pulse a little faster, you tried not to be too happy. Even if he did miss you, he never called and that was a fact you still couldn’t let go.

“I doubt that,” you say.

“I mean it, y/n,” he pounds a fist against the wall and you’re startled for a moment. “Shit. Sorry.”

You blow some air out of your lungs, “Look, Yoongi…I don’t have time for this.”

As you tell him this, the look in his eyes becomes desperate. Yoongi begs you to stay as you attempt to move away from his body. And when you nudge his arms away, they just grab onto your wrists.

“Yoongi,” you say, struggling. “Let me go.”

And he does let your wrists go, only to replace them with his lips on yours.

For a moment, you’re frozen; the kiss is quick and ends before you can say anything at all. Yoongi pulls away and breathes heavily before you. You try to find words to say, but nothing comes out.

“Kiss me again,” you say after an eternity of silence and he doesn’t hesitate.

You’re lost in the feeling of his lips against yours. He pushes you against the wall, pressing his body firmly against yours. Yoongi’s hands grab your face, your hair, your waist—he can’t keep his hands off of you. And everywhere that he touches leaves a searing burn.

This was what you have been waiting for since you confessed all those years ago. You should be ecstatic and beyond joyful. Kissing Yoongi is all you’ve ever wanted and it is happening right now. You moan into his lips as he presses himself even closer to you, so close you can feel every ridge of him through your dress.

You’ve imagined kissing him since forever, and it’s even better than every fantasy you’ve ever had.

So why did you feel so bad?

You begin to feel tears pool underneath your closed eyes. When Yoongi feels a tear hit his fingers, he pulls away. “Hey…what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this,” you whisper.

“Y/n…”

“I’m sorry.” As you say this, you untangle yourself from him and run. You run back out into the crowd of people and look back to see that Yoongi, although staring right at you, hasn’t moved an inch. He didn’t come after you; he never would.

You feel disappointment gnaw at your insides, but you suddenly jump when a hand comes to rest on your shoulder. Looking up with wide eyes, you immediately relax when you realize it’s just Jeongguk.

“I’ve been looking for you. Where did you go?” he asks surveying your face, and his mouth tightens when he notices you’ve been crying. “What happened?”

You wipe you face, “Nothing. I’m okay.” Liar; you were anything but okay. “Can we just go?”

Jeongguk nods and presses a kiss to your forehead, placing a hand on the small of your back to lead you out. As the two of you get closer and closer to the entrance doors, you sneak a look behind and notice that Yoongi hasn’t stopped looking at you.

When you realize this, you quickly turn back around. Even from across the club, his eyes manage to make you feel too much. And you hate it. The power he still has over you almost makes you sick.

That night, when you and Jeongguk return to your apartment, he makes love to you—just like you had promised him earlier. You try your best to be into it, but your hearts not and you just hope he doesn’t notice the less than thrilled orgasm you fake. After the two of you are done, he falls asleep with his arms spooning you from behind. His touch is comforting, but you can’t fall asleep.

A single thought keeps you awake: Yoongi kissed you and you let him. And you don’t know how to feel or what to even begin thinking.

All you know was that it felt like you were transported back to square one.

[nailbatss]

Mi Princesa Especial - Zabdiel de Jesús

Pairing: Zabdiel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,150

Content warnings: None, just a lot of fluff, and from Zab’s POV

Note: I reuploaded because I forgot to add hashtags. Hope you enjoy!🖤

Do you ever wish something would happen to you? Like, you want some new car, or you want a cute little dog to be by your side always. I did too. All I wanted was someone special to love me for who I was. Let me tell you, I found that in a special someone that I’m quite close to. Her name is (Y/N) and she has the prettiest hair. I love to twirl it around my fingers, run my fingers through it, and I also love to make sure that she’s loved and cared for all the time. Her eyes were the most dazzling, warm eyes that I have ever seen. I often find myself lost in them when I stare for long periods of time. Her body has so many curves that I love to run my hands over, to feel the way she giggles when I do, or to feel the way her breathing hitches as she thinks I’m going to tickle her. Dios mio, (Y/N) also has the most adorable laugh I have ever heard from anyone. I think that she’s the one I want to marry someday. I think that I’m a lucky guy to have (Y/N) by my side. She has the softest skin that I love to touch, including her lips. I absolutely love hearing her talk-- or watching her lips move.

Everything about her is literal perfection. I never thought that I would find someone just like her. The energy she has when talking about her passions drives me. It’s like I can feed off of her energy and feel the vibes she has going on. On my worst days where I want to shut the world out, seeing nothing but darkness and gloom, (Y/N) is my light. She has saved my life probably more than I have saved hers. She claims I was there for her in such a dark point of her life, when she was the exact same way with me. No one was willing to reach out to me the way she did. I mean, the boys are fantastic and I couldn’t ask for better brothers, but they don’t understand me the way she seems to get me. It’s like she knows exactly when I’m having a bad day because she wraps her arms around me and grips me tight. I will wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her neck to breathe in her calming scent. My girl smells just like happiness, warmth, sunshine, and flowers. I think of morning glories when I inhale her scent. The world tries to pull me away from everyone with my thoughts, but her scent grounds me. It brings me back to the present and back to the moment. She will run her fingers through my messy hair and whisper how much I mean to her, and that I am doing my best. I am constantly reminded by this angel how much she loves me. Her little kisses to my head and whispers show me exactly how much she loves me. I have no doubt in my mind that she is the one for me. I love her with all my heart and I cannot wait to call her mine forever.

There is a small diamond ring in the pocket of my jacket from the Hey DJ video. I know how much she loves that suit, so I thought I would wear it for our very special date tonight. I hope she says yes to the very special question I have for her tonight. I think that I’m going to ask her the question while we have dessert. Think about it, I’m ending the night with a sweet treat with the sweetest thing I have in my life. I’ve already spoken to (Y/N)’s father and he gave me the approval. Of course, he did so after giving me the whole “if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you” talk. I understand because she is his little girl. I told him that we wouldn’t be taking away from her family, but adding on. My mother has no idea, but I plan to tell her when we have dinner next week. That would be the next time I see her and it would be in a public place. She doesn’t like causing scenes in public so it’s a safe bet.

“Zab? Are you alright?’ A sweet voice pulled me from my thoughts. It was (Y/N). Her kind eyes were gazing into my dark ones, making my heart flutter with every word she spoke to me. “Si, mi amor. Just thinking.” I kissed her knuckles after raising her hand to my lips, hopefully where the ring would be placed. “What are you thinking about so hard?” She smiled sweetly up at me. “Hm, just our date tonight. I bet you’re going to look so beautiful.” I could see the small blush forming on her cheeks. A light smack to my chest made me laugh. “Don’t even! You’re going to look so much better!” She whined. “No, no, you will definitely look bonita, mi princesa.” I knew that nickname always made her melt and would let me win. “Fine.” She huffed. She was always so cute when her cheeks puffed out, her eyebrows furrowed to feign anger, and her hands were crossed over her chest. I chuckled gently and gave her a soft kiss to pull her out of this little attitude she was having. (Y/N) gave in and she wrapped her arms around me. See? I always win.

That night, I got to ask her that very special question. However, it wasn’t in the way I wanted to ask her. It was actually a funny story as to how it happened. We were eating dinner and I had told her a joke that especially made her laugh. I watched her throw her head back and she put her hands against her side. I thought it was the cutest thing and my face probably showed surprise. I felt my jaw drop at the pure beauty of watching her laugh. I swore I heard angels when I heard her laughing, and I could see my future with her right then and there.

“(Y/N), I want to marry you.” I blurted out in the middle of my thought. Her eyes got wide and she gasped softly. “Zab, I- are you serious?” My plan wasn’t completely a failure. I pulled the ring out of my pocket and laughed nervously, “Yeah, muy serio.” I answered. She threw her arms around me and gave me a huge kiss. I guess I had my answer.

This was how I fell in love with mi princesa especial. I’m going to marry my true love.

[fangirlfiction]

Out of Time [1]

i. come back to me

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: WWII has started for the U.S. after the bombing of Pearl Harbor, changing the lives of men all over the States, Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes among them.

Warnings: There are some spicy moments, so 18+ only please! A lil bit of angst and sadness, but also some fluffy fluff.

A/N: hello angels! This is a reupload of chapter one, which I believe is the only chapter of OoT that was affected by tumblr’s idiot procedures. I am a little heartbroken that I lost so many sweet comments from this chapter, but it is what it is, I guess. also, FYI, ‘spicy’ is my new code for uh, intimate, moments.

ii. letters from hell // series masterlist 

December 8, 1941

“Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, Members of the Senate, and of the House of Representatives:

Yesterday, December 7th, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan… It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time, the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace… I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7th, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese empire.”

January 1, 1942

You lift your head in surprise at the quiet knock on your front door, unsure of who it could be. You close your book and set it on the couch before moving to the door and pulling it open. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and surprise at the dark haired man in front of you. “Bucky?”

You glance down at the pocket watch that once belonged to your father before looking up at him again. “I thought we weren’t meeting until 8 tonight?”

Bucky steps forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, you notice the weight on his shoulders. The heaviness in his blue eyes. “What’s wrong? What is it?”

He looks up at you, giving you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Can you cut my hair? Ma’s been too busy.”

You nod, whisper a soft, “Yeah.”

You grab his hand and pull him inside, leading him to the small bathroom of the apartment. He settles onto the chair you pulled in, and you grab a comb and scissors from the cabinet over the sink. You move to stand beside Bucky, deciding to cut the hair on the sides first. Pieces of hair float down between you before Bucky breaks the silence. “How’s George?”

You pull back and look down at him, giving him a smile, before continuing on the sides. “He’s good. Nearly a month into boot camp and I can already tell from his letters that he loves the Marines. I just wish my parents were around still. They would have been proud.”

Bucky hums in acknowledgement and whispers, “They’d be proud of you, too.”

You’re behind him now, so he misses the smile on your face, but you press a kiss onto the crown of his head in thanks. You finish trimming the back and move to stand in front of him, trimming the front into the style he likes. Bucky reaches forward and puts his hands on your waist, and the gesture causes you glance down at him. The look on his face has you sinking onto your knees in front of him, leaving you at eye level. You whisper softly, “Bucky. Talk to me.”

His eyes lift from the ground to meet yours. “I got drafted.”

You intake a sharp breath and whisper, “When?”

“Got the letter this afternoon. Basic starts in 4 days.” He grabs your hands and looks at you in earnest. “I know that you wanted to enlist as a nurse. To save lives, make a difference. But Steve…someone has to stay and look out for Steve.”

You nod, understanding his plea. “Have you told him?”

“Not yet.” His tone is serious when he continues, “And he can’t know that I was drafted, it’ll just fuel his drive to enlist.”

You pull your hands from his and place them on his cheeks. “I’ll stay.”

April 5, 1942

Your eyes scan the Expo Hall for Bucky and Steve, and you let out a sigh when you see them on the outskirts of the Hall, arguing about something. You catch part of their conversation as you near closer. “Bucky, c’mon. There are men laying down their lives, I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right, because you got nothing to prove.”

You watch as they stare at each other, stubborn in their own opinions. You raise your voice to be heard over the noise of the hall. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky turns to face you, a carefree smile on his face. You don’t miss the scared look in his eyes. “Of course.”

He turns back to Steve and sighs, shaking his head as he backs up towards you. “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

Steve quips back, “How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky walks back towards Steve, pulling him into a hug as he mutters, “You’re a punk.”

You hear Steve whisper, “Jerk.” They pull away and Steve whispers, “Be careful.”

You walk to Steve and hug him, asking, “See you in the morning?”

Steve nods. You turn to Bucky and grab his hand, both of you starting to walk away. Steve yells out, “Don’t win the war til I get there.”

Bucky drops your hand and turns, giving Steve a salute, before grabbing your hand again and leading you to the door. As soon as you’re out in the cool night air, Bucky sighs. You squeeze his hand. “Let’s skip dancing. Go to my place instead.”

He glances down at you, a playful smirk on his face. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

You walk back to your apartment in silence, each lost in your own worlds. You know Bucky is thinking about Steve, worried that he’d enlist. But you were too busy thinking about Bucky, worried he’d…

Minutes later, you’re back at your apartment. The door closes with a soft click, and you turn to Bucky with a smile. Wordlessly, you drop your purse onto the floor at your feet before reaching out and grabbing his hand. You walk backwards through your apartment, leading him back to your room. Once inside, you drop his hand and push the jacket off your shoulders and onto the floor. You slip the shoes from your feet and step towards him, reaching up to grab his hat before settling it onto your head. He laughs as you give him a salute and he reaches out for you, ready to kiss you. You step out of his grasp and whisper, “Not yet, soldier.”

You step closer to him again and unbutton his jacket slowly, your eyes locked on his the entire time. You push the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor before removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. His shirt, shoes, and pants join his jacket on the floor, and you guide him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed. He lowers himself onto the bed and watches as you take a step back and unbutton your shirt and skirt, pushing them both to the floor. You prop your leg on the bed beside him, before unfastening your stockings and pushing them down your leg slowly. Bucky watches in quiet awe, eyes tracing the newly exposed skin, hands eager to touch you.

You move over and settle yourself onto his lap, one leg on either side of him, your hands resting on his cheeks. You can feel his arousal, just from watching you undress, and it sends a thrill of excitement through you. Bucky leans forward until your lips are almost touching, breath mingling together. He whispers, “Permission to kiss you?”

Your lips brush his when you reply, “Permission granted.”

Your lips crash together in a frenzy of anticipation, the haze of arousal already taking over all your senses. Your hands slide from Bucky’s face and into his shorter hair, and his slide all over your body: up and down your sides, your back, your chest. Each pass of his skin over yours leaves prickles of electricity dancing along your skin, lighting up every nerve ending in your body.

Bucky stands with you in his arms, making you squeal, before turning and laying you on the bed softly. He pulls back and hovers over you, eyes roaming over your face, your body. You hide your face in your hands and mutter, “You’re staring.”

He pulls your hands away, his eyes searching your own. “I’m memorizing you. This moment.”

He reaches up and traces a finger over your brow, down to your lips, pausing to let you playfully nip at his finger. You whisper, “Why?

He continues his path down your face and over your neck, stopping at the base of your collarbone. “To get me through the war when things get bad.”

You smile and pull him down into a kiss, dripping every ounce of love you have for him into it. The night is spent memorizing every part of each other; every freckle, every scar, every mark catalogued and stored away. The reality of it all hits you when Bucky is thrusting into you, both of you chasing your highs together for what is possibly the last time. Bucky pulls back when he feels you crying, pausing to reach up and wipe the tears from your face. “Promise me you’ll come back to me, Bucky.”

Bucky smiles at you and replies, “I’ll always come back to you. No distance or time could ever change that.”

Dizzy with arousal and high on promises, you both come screaming each other’s names.

April 6, 1942

You thread your fingers through Steve’s and Bucky’s, giving them each a wide smile. They smile back at you before continuing their conversation about Steve’s latest art project, an obvious conversational attempt meant to distract from the destination of the morning’s walk. The sign to the Brooklyn Shipyard looms ahead, and just beyond it is hundreds of soldiers saying goodbye. The three of you weave in and out of the crowd, moving closer and closer to the ship that is going to take Bucky away from Brooklyn. Away from you.

You step back as you reached the edge of the ramp to the ship, allowing Bucky and Steve to say goodbye. Finally, Bucky turns to you, a sad smile on his face. Tears instantly well up in your eyes and you throw yourself into Bucky’s outstretched arms, allowing the tears to fall. You pull away minutes later, and Bucky reaches up to wipe the tears from your face. Voice hoarse from crying, you mutter, “I have something for you. A good luck charm.”

Bucky flashes a lopsided grin, suddenly looking too young to be in uniform. You swallow back a fresh wave of tears and reach into your pocket, before dropping the heavy item into Bucky’s outstretched palm. Bucky looks down at it and realization dawns on his face. He instantly starts shaking his head. “I can’t take your pa’s pocket watch. It’s all you have left of him.”

You fold his fingers over it, nodding. “Yes, you can. Pa always said it was the reason he and ma survived the ship over here. The day he and ma died, he had given it to George. George was the only one to survive the crash. It’s good luck. It’ll keep you safe.”

Bucky nods, too choked up to say anything. The blast of the ship’s horn echoes in the harbor, signaling that it’s time to leave. Bucky pulls you in for one last kiss, he pulls away and whispers, “I love you.”

You choke back tears as he reaches down and grabs his bag. “I love you too.”

He smiles and waves goodbye to you and Steve before boarding the boat and sailing away.