#I'm trying to be proud of finishing this (it's taken me a year) but also now I lowkey hate it ♡

[callmeahopelesscase]

-> Porchay Kittisawat & All That We Get by First Aid Kit (ft. Chay & Porsche sibling bond)

[a-pigeons-soliloquy]

oouugghhh hannigram either 7 or 45. maybe even combine the two.

ok so it has been. a while. this one got, uh, more than a little out of control lmao (almost 3500 words holy fuck). but it's finally finished! i'm not sure if it exactly fits the prompts anymore but i tried to combine them both :) i hope you like it! (even if it did just end up as yet another mizumono fic lol oops)

***

"You were supposed to leave," Will hisses, and his voice is a devastated, furious thing.

There is blood soaking into his shoes and the scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, and the worst part is that Will doesn't even know whose blood it is anymore, but the question is lost to the back of his mind. Because in front of him stands a dishevelled man whose shirt is a mess of shiny red stains, a knife dripping in his hand.

A man who isn’t supposed to be there at all.

"I didn't want to leave without seeing you one last time," Hannibal says. The words one last time should be ringing alarm bells in Will's head, but he can’t hear them over the overwhelming chorus of thousands of other alarms, because everything is going wrong. There is blood on the floor and on the walls and Alana and Jack lie dying among shards of glass, and there is a SWAT team likely only minutes away, and yet Hannibal is still here.

They both are.

And now Will doesn’t know what to do, hasn’t known what to do for the last 3 months and hadn’t known what he’d do next when he’d made that phone call, telling the Chesapeake Ripper that they know. All he’d known was that he didn’t want Hannibal to die, didn’t want him locked up in a cage by his own hands. But here he is, faced with the consequences of his own actions, and once again Will doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to feel, or even what he is feeling beyond the adrenaline and desperation and horror and relief and confusion. He doesn’t want to feel the overwhelming guilt and sense of responsibility that has been steadily building behind his ribs since this whole scheme began. Yet that guilt now tears at the lining of his chest and crushes his lungs and holds his throat in a chokehold, and it’s just all too much and all he can think is none of this was supposed to happen and this is all my fault and what if?

Seeing Hannibal alive, he’d been struck by a sudden wave of relief that had almost caused his knees to give out beneath him. But now, as Hannibal’s eyes meet his, the awful look that greets him makes a pit suddenly form in his stomach, and the relief gives way to guilt again. And Will can’t take it.

None of this was supposed to happen.

This is all my fault.

What if?

And then it hits him: none of this was supposed to happen. And it hadn’t needed to. This awful mess of glass and blood and ruin could have all been avoided if Hannibal had just listened. If he’d trusted Will when he’d picked up the phone with shaky fingers and told him to run. But he hadn't. And this realisation comes with a sick sense of understanding, because for the whole time Will had known him, Hannibal had always had to have something hidden up his sleeve, always had to keep secrets from Will. Always had to know better. Feel superior. At last the final veil falls from Will's eyes, and all at once he can see how foolish he'd been to ever believe that they could be equals. How pathetic it was that, for those few long weeks they'd spent together, he'd actually believed that they were.

(Will fiercely forces back the voice in his head that whispers that he hadn’t exactly given Hannibal a reason to trust him.)

Heart hammering against his ribs, all of that guilt and fear melts together and stretches and twists and is reborn as deep, righteous anger.

Because no, all he’d wanted was for Hannibal to be safe and free and far from here, even if it meant Hannibal hated him, even if it meant they could never be together, even if it meant that one day Hannibal would come back and rip his still-beating heart from his chest without remorse. But instead here they are, highly armed police likely mere minutes out. And all because Hannibal hadn’t listened. Bitterly, Will thinks to himself that maybe he couldn’t change Hannibal in this way after all.

As if hearing the war cry of bitterness and anger, the resentment he’d kept locked away over the last year begins to bay and claw at its cage too, and, with no reason left to hold it back, Will finally opens the latch and lets it loose.

His next words come out as a growl. “Well now neither of us might get to leave at all”.

Hannibal looks at him, and before he can hide any emotion behind his mask Will can see surprise and deep betrayal warring behind his eyes. It should make him stop and consider, that surprise - that indication that he is behaving in a way that Hannibal did not quite anticipate. But the look of betrayal is like a knife to his chest, and so Will grips his resentment tightly and fumes.

What had Hannibal expected? For Will to be small, desperate? Cowering? Begging for forgiveness? His lip curls in derision. As if he would give him the satisfaction. No, mongooses have teeth and claws, and may whatever god he believes in help Hannibal if he thinks Will won’t use them.

Hannibal manages to force the emotion all behind a mask of icy indifference, and now when he looks at Will his gaze is blank. Though it is not his usual blankness which Will has become familiar with. It is an empty, unsettling kind of blank, the sort of blank he’s only ever seen in the eye of a shark. When Hannibal speaks his voice is cold, colder than Will has ever heard it.

"Forgive me for having doubts about the sincerity of your warning when you've been lying to me for the last month. Forgive me for wanting to see the truth of where your loyalties lie."

The acknowledgement is agony. All the guilt Will had been trying to force down suddenly rears its monstrous head again, and he finds his voice suddenly drying up. His throat feels tight.

He whispers. "My loyalties lie with you'

Hannibal only scoffs. It is ugly. Will has never seen Hannibal ugly before.

"A last minute change of heart is hardly loyalty, Will," he says. “What does Uncle Jack think of your loyalty, lying bleeding out in my pantry? Alana, shattered on the street? How can I be sure you do not still intend for me to join them?”

Hannibal takes a step towards him, adjusting his grip on the knife. Will’s heart pounds. He forces himself not to take a step back.

“Because I chose you, Hannibal, I was always going to choose you, I just needed time to accept that.”

But Hannibal just looks away. “If that is what you truly believe, then you haven't just been lying to me, you've also been lying to yourself.”

It’s so wrong, yet Hannibal had said it with such certainty and disdain that all Will sees is the arrogance with which Hannibal always assumes himself to be right. He dares to presume to know what Will is thinking better than Will knows himself? It turns out Hannibal Lecter really is just like every other psychiatrist Will has ever met, and a sense of grief rises up within him at the loss of something he’d never thought he could have until meeting Hannibal.

He hates himself for mourning what he shouldn’t want.

Will smothers the voice in his head whispering that Hannibal may in fact be correct, that he really does know Will's mind better than Will does his own. Instead he lets anger take over again, and this time it burns.

“You know nothing,” he hisses. His hands shake. Deep waves of indignant resentment roll over him, the roaring of the waves matching the blood in his ears.

He doesn’t know what he expects Hannibal to do next, but it isn’t for Hannibal to hum to himself, then huff a mirthless laugh and concede in a tone both melancholy and angry, “Perhaps you’re right.”

Once again Hannibal meets his eyes. “You know, I've never fully been able to predict you, Will, but this time I had hoped. It is a mistake I will not make again.”

He prowls closer still, and this time Will steps forward to meet him. Fight has won over flight and as the rising fury makes it hard to find words Will’s body seems to have decided to speak for him. The ticking clock of the impending arrival of the FBI ignored in favour of the burning, all-consuming rage within him.

But the fear of their time running out is still there, forced down as it is, and between that and the anger it’s only getting harder to think, and Hannibal is only making it worse. Every word that leaves his mouth brings fresh waves of intense emotion and it’s rapidly reducing Will to a state where there is nothing in his brain except pure animalistic rage-fear.

He just needs Hannibal to stop talking for one moment so he can think.

With what little coherent thought remains in his brain, Will decides to tell Hannibal in the only way he can manage anymore.

“For once in your life can you please just shut the fuck up”.

Hannibal's eyes flash dangerously. His lips curl up into a snarl, and the part of Will that still understands anything knows that he’s made a mistake - he’s only succeeded in confirming for Hannibal exactly how his words are affecting him, and getting him to stop now won’t be achieved without consequences.

Hannibal is quick to recover, a cruel grin taking over his face. His head tilts condescendingly. “Terribly rude, Will,’ he taunts.

The fire inside Will soars higher. He can feel it scorching his insides.

“Fuck you, Hannibal.” He spits.

Hannibal begins to loom over him, moving closer still in a manner that can only be called predatory, until all that separates them is an arm’s length. The knife still glistens in his hand.

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, Will? Childish comebacks? I’ve come to expect better from you. I'm disappointed.” There is a gleam of self-satisfied malice in his eyes and the shape of his lips. He looks dangerous. He looks beautiful.

Will hates him.

Will loves him.

Fuckyoufuckyoufuck-

And suddenly Will can’t take it any longer.

Before he knows what he is doing, he’s grabbing Hannibal by the bloody shirt and crashing his lips into his.

Time seems to stop, the world narrowing into a millisecond of time in which Hannibal’s hair brushes against Will’s forehead, breath warm against his mouth, their noses pressed almost painfully against each other. A moment where the cooling blood on Hannibal’s shirt soaks into Will’s palms and stains his fingers red. A moment where Hannibal stands deadly still, as if frozen, and Will feels as if he’s been frozen too.

There is a distant pressure in the corner of Will’s abdomen, then the vague sound of something clattering to the ground. But Will’s lips are on Hannibal’s and it is as if everything everywhere is inconsequential other than the feeling of Hannibal’s teeth against his, just as he’d imagined on so many a lonely night.

The moment seems to last an eternity before Hannibal’s hand finally comes up to grasp the back of his shirt tightly, and Will feels the sharp pull of the fabric against his skin, the pressure of Hannibal’s knuckles firm against his flank. A breathy gasp escapes his burning lips, and he can’t help the animal noise that subsequently tears its way from his throat. Luckily it seems that is what it takes for Hannibal to finally move his mouth and kiss back with equal force, teeth scraping sharply against Will’s. They gravitate closer and closer until Will’s arm is wrapped around Hannibal’s neck and their hips are pressed tightly together.

Eventually, Hannibal lets out a deep growl before he at last pulls away, dragging Will backwards until there is an arm’s distance between them. Will’s eyes flutter open and he gazes up at Hannibal. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins and setting him alight, but this time it is not with anger but something wholly new.

As they lock eyes, Will realises that Hannibal is finally allowing Will to see, without barriers or veils, the full breadth of emotion in his eyes. There is still frustration and betrayal, yes (indeed, Will hadn’t let go of his either) but there is also - and Will’s heart skips a beat when he recognises it - pure and all-encompassing adoration. A wonderful warmth blossoms within his core, rendering him both weak and solid and light as a feather, and it is unlike anything Will can ever remember feeling.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

Then those wonderful, expressive maroon eyes flicker downwards, and Hannibal’s brow furrows, lines around his eyes deepening. Confused, Will follows his gaze, and is surprised to see a growing deep red stain on his shirt, though any reaction he distantly thinks he perhaps should be having is dulled and seems to float just out of reach. It’s strange; there isn’t any pain, just the memory of an odd pressure that he’d ignored at the time and a peculiar sense of unreality.

For a moment he just stands, uncomprehending, but as the adrenaline finally starts to wear off he becomes increasingly aware of a dull ache at the site of the wound, and it isn’t long before that dull ache blossoms into a terrible burning pain. Hand instinctively falling from Hannibal’s shoulder to hover protectively over the wound, Will looks back up at Hannibal, a mix of confusion, surprise, pain and betrayal written across his face. An involuntary whine slips from his suddenly dry throat.

The vocalisation appears to spur Hannibal into action. He takes Will gently but firmly by the arms and quickly guides him to a nearby sofa, helping him lay down across its seats before sinking to his knees beside him and pulling up his shirt to inspect the injury. A moment passes, then a near-imperceptible line of tension seems to drop slightly from Hannibal’s shoulders and he pulls Will’s shirt back down.

“It is as I thought: due to the angle and the quick loosening of my grip on the handle, only the tip of my knife entered your body. The wound is not so deep as to require immediate attention, but it will certainly require stitches.”

He guides Will’s hand back to his injury and helps him to apply the right amount of pressure. It hurts, and when Will winces and lets out small pained noise, Hannibal brings a hand to his hair and cards it through the damp curls. It feels nice, it feels so very nice and right, and Will’s eyes slip closed for a moment, enjoying the feeling. When he opens them, Hannibal is looking down at him, face once again carefully blank.

“There is likely very little time left before the FBI arrives,” he begins, “and I will soon be leaving for Florence. I will offer you this once and only once, and you will have until I return with our passports and a select few other items to make your decision.”

He fixes Will with a heavy look. “One last chance, Will. You can come with me to Florence, and I will show you the city where I became a man. We will leave immediately, take up new identities, and likely never return.

“Or, I can leave you here. You can wait for the cops to arrive and take you to a hospital. Your reputation will remain intact, and you can go back to your job and your house in the woods, your life as you know it, and you will never see me again.”

An almost undetectable pause, and then, “This is your final decision, Will. I suggest you make it wisely.”

With this he climbs to his feet and leaves the room

For a while Will sits thinking, but deep down he knows his mind is already made up. The myriad of complicated feelings he harbours towards Hannibal still plague him, and a part of him still wants to lock the man up and throw away the key, but he’s finally willing to admit that it’s all inconsequential. He knows now he can't live without Hannibal, for better or for worse, whether he loves him or hates him, or a twisted mix of both. He’ll miss his life terribly for the isolated comfort it brought, but he’d miss Hannibal far, far more.

There is only one choice to make.

The moment Hannibal reappears in the doorway Will is speaking.

“I want to come with you.”

Hannibal’s face remains carefully blank. “You understand there is no going back from this. I will not change my lifestyle and you can never return to the false life you have led. You will be shedding your sheepskin for good this time, and the world will be on our tail for as long as we-”

Will cuts him off.

“I want to come with you,” he repeats firmly.

A long pause, and then a small but genuine smile graces Hannibal's lips. With a dip of his head, he seems to accept the decision. “Very well,” he says, though Will can hear the unspoken relief that lies beneath it. He lets himself smile back, tired but overjoyed and honest. It feels right.

Hannibal comes back to where he lies on the couch, and helps him get up, his touch firm yet gentle as he holds Will against his side.

“Do you think you can walk?” he asks.

Will’s breath catches as the shift to being upright pulls sharply on his wound. While it could have been far deeper - and Will doesn’t want to imagine what Hannibal’s initial plan for him was - it is still painful, and increasingly so as the last of the adrenaline wears off. Plus, he’s losing a fair amount of blood, and the change in angle temporarily darkens his vision and sends stars dancing across his eyes. Grimacing, he closes his eyes and waits for the pounding in his head to stop. Hannibal lets him lean against him, steadfastly taking his weight, and says nothing.

When the stars fade and he feels steadier on his feet, Will considers Hannibal’s question, and after a moment of assessment nods - he’s been shot in the shoulder before, he can handle this - and lets Hannibal lead him out of the house and down the street to an unfamiliar car.

Alana is unconscious now, and Will catches Hannibal’s eyes lingering on his jacket where it lies over her body. He looks at her, the person he’d once imagined sharing a life with, and thinks of how important she had always been to him, even after everything. A pang of bittersweet nostalgia hits him, accompanied by a longing for a simpler time when maybe it could have been possible. But ultimately he allows Hannibal to help him into the passenger seat of the car. This is the life he’s chosen, the person he’s chosen, cannibalism and all. There is no going back now, and nothing to be gained from contemplating what ifs.

Then the car door closes, and Alana is hidden from sight.

There is another noise as Hannibal gets in the car from the other side, and after fiddling with some dials and buttons, he starts the engine.

“I will drive us to the airport where our flight awaits. When we are a safe distance from the house we will stop and I will clean and suture your wound. But for now I suggest you sleep - you will need the rest if you are to recover well.”

He must notice the lines of discomfort on Will’s face, as he adds, softening slightly, “There are some painkillers in the door.”

After taking the pills as directed, Will lays his head back against the headrest and allows his eyes to close. The last of the adrenaline has left his system, leaving behind a sudden bone tiredness that makes his lids heavy and breathing slow.

With the sound of the vehicle lulling him and the comfort of Hannibal’s presence beside him - alive, together - sleep comes quickly, and the last thing Will knows before the darkness claims him is the feeling of a warm hand gently coming to rest upon his own.

[mothandpidgeon]

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There’s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[prodagustd]

the road not taken 04 | myg

part four: a wish

Summary: Were you about to go crazy if you started to consider that Yoongi felt something for you?

<part three

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: slow burn, angst, FLUFF ❤️‍🩹, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension!!!!! flashbacks, ANGST!! mentions of sex 👀Btw english is not my first language!

—words: 9.6k

—a/note: hiiii friends!!! i'm glad to say that it didn't take me six months to post this :D. I genuinely went through the most stressful two months of my life so I'm really proud that I could finish this chapter while trying to survive this thing called being an adult!! Anywayy, I’m excited for this chapter but I’m MORE EXCITED FOR THE NEXT ONE… 👀 so please have patience with this story!!! I promise it’s worth it hehehe. As always, you are more than invited to discuss this chapter in the asks, feedback is always welcomed <3 this one is very fluffy i hope you enjoy ittt. (Also if you read a typo, no you didn’t)

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago

Seven days before New Year’s Eve

Were you too naive to still believe your father when he said that you were granted a wish every Christmas? He used to say that every year when he was still around and you were still a kid, when the clock struck twelve you could wish anything you wanted, as long as it wasn’t something material or more presents, you had to wish for something special, something that made you happy. 

The last Christmas before your father passed away you were seven years old and still believed in Santa Claus. That year, for some reason, your wish slipped your mind, you forgot about it completely. You stayed at your house, watched movies the whole day in your pajamas and at midnight your parents let both you and Simon open only one present before sending you to bed. You remembered how your father chased you to the stairs to tickle you until you cried of laughter and how good the cookies your mother made that night were, perhaps that year you were too happy to remember making a wish, perhaps what you had was enough. When you woke up the next morning, you were sad that you had wasted it, but your father, wise as ever, told you not to worry. He said that it was like you were saving your wish for the next year — maybe then it would be stronger, and maybe, since you waited, you would have a better chance of it coming true.

By the time Christmas came the following year your father was already gone, and with him all the magic of the world. You had to grow up, you stopped making wishes and tried to stop believing in stories, but it was difficult when his words were still at the back of your mind like some sort of tradition every holiday season. Despite knowing that magic didn’t exist and perhaps not a single wish of yours had ever come true, you still couldn't help but believe you still had your last wish, and everytime the idea of finally making it crossed your mind, you stopped to tell yourself you could still wait another year, just to be sure. 

That morning you saw Yoongi leaned over his car, adjusting his cap as he saw you walking over to him and you thought about your saved wish for the first time this year. And then again when he grabbed your hand to drag you out of the room, or when he waited for you at the bottom of the stairs before leaving the house, but you wouldn’t admit it, not even to yourself. 

He dragged you all across your grandmother’s hometown as if you didn’t know it like the palm of your hand, as if the streets weren’t filled with kids running and whole families doing last-minute gift shopping, but he didn’t seem to care, so for once, you didn’t let it annoy you either. You observed the happy families and the kids playing in the snow, and sat in the park for as long as the cold weather allowed.

It was like you entered a trance, you tried to fight the urge to snap out of the moment and talked and talked the whole afternoon about everything and nothing at the same time, Yoongi listened and laughed while playing with the ends of your hair, pushing you closer to the edge of illusion. If you weren’t so adamant to stay in that blurry haze, you would’ve done something to stop him, you would’ve push his hand away when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, you would’ve hated how easy it was for him to play dumb, how natural it was to touch you without feeling something was wrong. You ignored it instead, you ignored him and his wandering hands and the fact that he didn’t dare to mention the moment you shared in the closet, nor the way your noses brushed together, or how his fingers hugged your waist as if you weren’t just friends. Even if you would’ve died for him to say a word about it, to tease you, to attempt to make fun of you just to know that what happened was real and not something you dreamt last night.

If you were really dreaming, you held on to your sleep for a while. When Yoongi found that secondhand bookstore five blocks away from the park, he grabbed your hand when you ran across the street before the traffic lights turned green and stayed inside wandering the aisles with him, you let him lean over to whisper jokes in your ear and you punched his arms when he made you laugh a little bit too loud. You tried to keep your voices low and made a list of books to read the following year. You didn’t buy any of them but you read the prologues and the author’s biographies like it was the most interesting thing in the world. You waited for Yoongi when he started to talk with an old man about a book he needed for college and, when he felt you drifting away, he hooked one of his fingers on the belt loop of your jeans and pulled you close to him again. You felt his hands on your waist, keeping you pressed against the side of your body while he pretended to be focused on the conversation, but he was focused on something else. His long fingers played with the waistband of your jeans as your chest felt tight and your breath felt heavier. Maybe you were beginning to go insane, maybe you had a fever and everything was just a product of your imagination, but a tiny voice inside your head quietly suggested that maybe this time you weren’t insane, maybe it was just him.

It was getting dark outside, and you were supposed to be home anytime soon, but he turned his head to you and whispered in your ear that you should save a seat at the coffee shop next door and wait for him while he paid for the book. Even if it was cold and snowing neither of you wanted to return home yet, so you agreed. You made your way to the cute little coffee shop adorned with Christmas lights and sat on a table to wait for him to arrive at the table, until you saw him entering the shop with a book wrapped in brown wrapping paper in his hands. 

You observed him approaching with your face on the palms of your hands, you watched his eyes scanning the place until they found you in some poor illuminated corner. He smiled, his eyes never left yours as he made his way to your table, and when he sat in front of you, he slid the book towards you. 

“This is for you.” He simply said, crossing his arms over his chest like it was no big deal. 

You frowned, confused. Did Yoongi get you some lawyer book? You didn’t know, you grabbed the wrapped book in your hands and scanned it as if you were able to see through the envelope. “The book you needed for college?”

“It’s not that.” He huffed. “It’s a present.” 

You tried to bite back a smile, but you failed. “Is this your way to tell me you forgot to buy me a Christmas present?” You joked, making him roll his eyes. 

“C’mon, you know me.” He said “I would never give you a Christmas present before Christmas, are you crazy?”

You laughed “So is this not a Christmas present?” You inquired, teasing him. 

“It is a Christmas present, but not the Christmas present that I got for you.” He tried to clarify, and it sounded confusing but you understood him anyway. 

You nodded, tearing the wrapping paper to reveal that Yoongi just bought you an Anne Sexton poetry book, the title “Love Poems” shinned in red on the cover, making you hold your breath for a second. 

You raised your gaze from the book to find his eyes, which were looking at you expectantly, the same way someone looked at the moon, yearning. The same way you were looking at him. 

“How did you know…?” The question died in your lips.

“I just know.” He cheekily said, and that was enough.

You know me, he said, and you felt your heart aching when you realized that Yoongi knew you too, and it was becoming impossible to escape from it.

You spent these past weeks trying to make it disappear, but there it was again, that strange feeling you felt in your chest, like something tugged from a string tied to your heart to try and steal it away. You were sure Yoongi thought he had his ways with you, that he was some kind of genius that knew exactly what to say and what to do to erase the frown from your face and make you laugh, but the truth was that he didn’t need to do much effort to win you over, the truth was that he already had you. He had you then, and he had you now and you weren’t sure if that was ever going to change, but today you didn’t care, you let him walk you home as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like that warm wouldn’t chill you to the bone when he left. 

You had successfully gone through dinner without having to answer questions about college, or your future, or anything about yourself at all, part of it was because your grandmother didn’t ask any questions to begin with. Maybe you were a bit jealous that she seemed more interested in Eva, your cousin, who was a biochemist and just got engaged, or Aidan, your other cousin, who was just admitted into college, or even Yoongi, who was about to graduate, however, you felt relieved that the attention was not focused on you. You were used to your family thinking that you were a thirteen year old teenager and not a twenty one year adult, the attention was never really on you, sometimes it bounced on you accidentally like a ball and, from time to time, you got to share a glimpse of information about your life, but most of the time your mother answered for you as if you were a kid in the hospital room, trying to include you in conversations and talking about your own projects, and that was enough for everyone. 

In the past, your mother had sat you down several times to explain that your grandmother was never an easy woman, she reassured you that her judgmental behavior was a reflection of herself, not of you. She always offered to let you stay at home if you wanted to, but you refused only for the rest of the family, you could stand being with your grandmother if that meant being with the rest of them. And you learnt to endure it all: your grandmother’s judging look, all the talking about your cousin’s achievements, their goals, projects, flawless record, and the fact that everyone seemed to be finding their paths except for you. You had to learn to pretend you were happy for them and not jealous, you took several breaths and moved on, and for a while you thought that after two decades of your life you had finally mastered the art in not giving a fuck about what your family thought about you, until today when you ran to hide in the closet so they wouldn’t find you. 

You had to work on that, you knew that, but at least for now the blatant disinterest for your life spared you from having to explain your life crisis, at least Yoongi was by your side, redirecting attention to him and the real question everyone wanted to ask but no one dared, a question that eclipsed any other topic of conversation: what was happening between the two of you? 

You looked at him next to you, charming as ever, talking with your uncle across the table. He decided to put on his glasses, his cheeks were pink and the sleeves of his blue sweater were rolled up to his elbows, his arm was casually resting on the top rail of your chair and every time he made a joke he looked at you to check if you were laughing. Every attempt he made to try to make you part of the conversation made your heart swell, but you were more than happy just observing him blending into your family as if he were part of it; you wanted to be as clueless as everyone on the table and believe that Yoongi could be sitting next year at this very same table to be there for you, for a moment you allowed yourself to dream of a reality where he saved you from every family gathering like he was doing tonight.

From the tip of your nose to the tip of your toes you felt warm, almost as if you had a fever. It was probably because you were still wearing your black sweater inside the house or because the memory of the book Yoongi gave you kept your cheeks burning red, or maybe because when dinner was over and your family lingered over the table for the longest time they could, you saw Yoongi tilting his head towards the stairs, meaning it was time to go to bed. 

There was a couple differences between this weekend and the night Yoongi slept with you after coming back from The Alley, that night you wouldn’t have ask him to stay over if you were sober, and he most likely wouldn’t have stay if he wasn’t high, tonight you had to share the room, but it was impossible for you not to be dramatic and always make big deals out of small things. Unlike you, Yoongi didn’t flinch when you told him you were going to sleep in the same room, you failed to remember that you were the one who had a decade-long crush on him and not the other way around.

Now the house was quiet and everyone was scattered around the floors, your cousins were in the living room with your uncle, your grandmother was already in bed, your mom was in the kitchen washing the dishes and Yoongi was upstairs, waiting for you. Before going with him, you changed into your pajamas and went to the kitchen to steal a few cookies that your mother cooked for tomorrow morning. You could wait a few hours more to eat the cookies, but you were desperately trying to look for an excuse to prolong the moment you entered the room you were sharing with the man upstairs. 

You entered the kitchen, making your mother turn around from the sink to take a quick look at you before coming back to the dishes. “Are you already going to sleep?” She asked, a curious tone on her voice. 

“Yeah, but I wanted to grab a few cookies first, is that okay?” You inquired, already opening the cabinet above her head to grab a big plate.

“Just a few, remember they’re for everyone.” She warned, and you hummed in response, knowing that you were going to grab more than just a few. 

The room fell silent for a moment, you heard the water running and your dragging feet making their way to the cookies on the counter before she raised her voice again. “Are they for you and Yoongi?” 

You hummed again “Yes, just a few, I promise.” You said, grabbing what it seemed to be a whole batch of cookies to put on the plate. 

You tried to be quick, putting an extra cookie for the road between your teeth and turning around to escape from your mother before she could see you and scold you for stealing way too many cookies. Trying not to make any noise, as if that could make you invisible, you made your way towards the door to escape, but when you thought you were about to succeed, you heard the nickname your mom used for you from the corner of the room, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Wait, darling.” You heard her tone of voice, surprised that it wasn’t annoyed, but rather motherly. 

You turned around slowly with your guard up, as if in that way she wouldn’t notice the cookie between your teeth. You took it out of your mouth, hiding it behind your back.

“Yes?” You answered, remaining calm. You would not give yourself away when you already made this far. 

She closed the faucet, turning around to face you. Her eyes fell upon you, offering you an apologetic smile, which was weird, it was the kind of smile she gave you when she knew she was about to upset you. It wasn’t the kind of face someone who was about to scold you would make, she looked hesitant, almost worried. 

“I wanted to-... I mean, I wanted to ask you about something.” She said, stumbling with her own words. Her eyes were not focused on the plate on your hands, not even in your face completely, like she was trying to avoid your eyes. You felt a rush of nervousness running down your body and quickly dissipating, you didn’t know why. 

“About what?” You inquired, wiping the crumbs from your mouth. 

She sighed, playing with the towel in her hands to keep her hands busy. “I know you don’t want me to be all over your business, and I’m aware you are not a teenager anymore, but I can’t help worrying a little bit.” She explained, or at least she tried.

You frowned, more confused than ever. The conversation seemed to be taking a completely different path than you thought five seconds ago. 

“What do you mean, mom?” You said, taking a step forward, what did this have to do with the cookies?

Your mom pursed her lips, hesitating for a microsecond until the words finally came out of her mouth. “You are already a woman, darling, so I wanted to know if you are… cautious.” She pronounced, making emphasis on the last word and letting it sink in the air, but you still didn’t understand what she was talking about. 

“Cautious with what?” You must've looked like a total fool, asking once again what she meant, but your mother seemed to want you to understand without having to explain. 

She shifted in her place and you saw a flash of embarrassment in her eyes, but it quickly disappeared. “With Yoongi, I mean.” She said, making the name resonate in your ears “I know you’re both adults and you can do whatever you want, but I wanted to make sure that you are using protection.”

The realization fell upon you like a ton of bricks, each word she uttered felt like a different punch to your stomach. You opened your eyes widely, almost choking with your own spit.  “What? No, mom-” You wanted to interrupt her, but she was quick to talk over you. 

“I just want to make sure!” She said like she was apologizing “I don’t mean to be invasive, but it’s important to me that you’re being safe.”

You winced, feeling your face burning as you began stuttering “Me and Yoongi…-We are not, I mean-”

“Honey,” She stopped you, looking at you like she was a sex education teacher trying to explain why you should use protection. “I was not born yesterday, I see things happening, and believe me, I have no problem with you sharing a room, but I can’t help but ask.”

You were left completely speechless, and her constant interruptions while you were trying to finish a sentence were not helping. You racked your brain to find a logical explanation, but you were incapable of forming a decent sentence when she was looking at you like she was a doctor. The fact that your mother thought that you and Yoongi were having sex made your stomach squirm, and how she stated that it was obvious left your head spinning. Did she see you today in that closet and immediately assumed you were… fucking? God, that sounded so bad, so incredibly embarrassing. You still felt yourself blushing when you thought about that moment, you couldn’t even fathom the idea of seeing him without a shirt, less alone having sex with him.

“Mom, please. You don’t have to worry, really.” You tried to explain, but that was not enough to leave your mother content, by the look on her face you knew she didn’t believe you one bit. 

“I know I don’t have to worry!” She defended herself “Yoongi is a great boy, and I trust you… But you know, if things get a bit too frisky...” 

You closed your eyes shut, trying not to picture that in your mind, “God, mom, don’t use that word!” 

“Sorry! I mean… You know what I mean! I hope you’re using protection, no matter the circumstances.” 

You took a deep breath, ninety percent sure you were about to die of embarrassment, but with your last breath you made sure to be clear with your mom so tonight she would sleep peacefully “Believe me, mom. You don’t have to worry, nothing happened between Yoongi and me, I mean it.”

You could see it in her eyes, she was not convinced, and she was right to be so. That was a lie, and she knew it. What happened today was not “nothing”, and your mother knowing that only made your cheeks burn.

“Fine.” She said, struggling to let the conversation go “But if something does happen… Be safe, okay?”

You nodded repeatedly, trying to end the conversation as soon as possible. “Yes, of course.” You promised, but the idea of that ever happening sent a chill down your spine, you tried to shake that thought as far away as you possibly could. 

Your mom smiled and you took it as your cue to go. You tried to walk away, but before you reached the door, she spoke again. 

“And darling?” She said, making you turn around to see her. “I know you don’t like coming here without your brother, so thank you for coming anyway.”

“It’s fine, mom.” You said, and it was true. “At least Yoongi made up for it.”

She smirked, suppressing a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure.”

You rolled your eyes, in disbelief. “Yup, I’m going now, goodnight!” You said, finally escaping from the conversation. You heard your mom’s laugh in the distance as you closed the door behind you to run upstairs. 

Present

When you visited Simon’s apartment for the first time you could clearly notice it was a boy’s apartment from the lack of decoration, the lack of food in the fridge and the amount of boxes still unpacked weeks after moving in, but after you entered through the door tonight you saw a completely different version of it. It was a part of him that you missed out when you were gone, now there were plants on the living room and traces of Florence all over the place, like her purple slippers on the door and the purple toothbrush on the bathroom, her scrunchies on the entryway table and the framed picture of her beside them. You found it endearing, it was like a secret world made just for the two of them, a proper home. 

“When is Florence coming back?” You asked, leaving your bag on the couch. 

Simon took off his shoes, wandering through his house as he turned all the lights on “On Monday.” He replied.

You made a mental note to leave on Monday, even if Simon repeated a thousand times that it was okay for you to stay there on the way here, you didn’t want to intrude in his life. Instead you decided it would be easier to intrude in Minnie’s life, who’s apartment was big enough for the two of you, the only person she shared her apartment with was not an actual person, it was just her orange cat. 

 “I was supposed to go with her.” Your brother kept talking “But me and Yoongi are behind on some work and I had to stay… Well, I’m the one who’s behind, really. Yoongi is just helping me.”

You did not forget that Simon and Yoongi worked together at the same law firm downtown ever since they graduated. You knew that Yoongi got the job as soon as he graduated and then he was followed by your brother, after years it was still impossible to keep them apart, which had become a problem for you. 

You nodded but didn’t say anything about it, you reasoned that Yoongi was still working before arriving at your house, that explained the clothes, the shoes and the messy hair. You sighed just by thinking about it, at least dinner was over, at least your first encounter with Yoongi after four years wasn’t the worst thing that happened tonight. 

It was impossible, but you tried not to think about it too much. Yoongi’s presence was some kind of collateral effect that came with your life, it was too late to detach him from it, but you still tried to run away from it for years and years, only to come back and still find him here, talking to you like nothing ever happened, like you were still friends. 

Yoongi and you were always on different stages of your life, on different places, on different paths, but you seemed to agree on one thing: keep everything secret, no one needed to know what happened between the two of you, that was why Simon was always talking about Yoongi when you called him, that was why he couldn’t stop talking about it him now, he didn’t realize that you didn’t want to know anything about his best friend, you could never told him why.

You followed your brother to his guest room as he talked and talked about how smart Yoongi was and how he was capable of taking so many different cases and not dying in the process, how nice it was to work with his best friend and blablabla. You swore that if you heard the name one more time you would explode, so you decided to drastically change the subject of the conversation, you were willing to say anything to take his name out of your brother’s mouth. It took a second, but when the room fell silent, you looked at your feet, a bit unsure, gathering enough courage to finally say what you’ve been meaning to tell him since you arrived home.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about the proposal.” You softly spoke, and Simon, who was looking for a blanket in the closet in the corner of the room, turned his head to look at you. “I wanted to tell you in person, but I wasn’t planning for that article to come out, I didn’t want the whole world to know.”

Simon left the blanket on the bed, turning his body to look at you more clearly. “Mom told me that you think Ian leaked the news” He mentioned, and you nodded, at the risk of looking crazy. 

“Sally suggested it.” You confirmed, sitting on the bed “And if he didn’t, he’s fine with it anyway. He doesn’t care if people see me as this bitch who broke his heart, I might as well be.” 

He looked at the wall behind you, confused. “I think I missed a chapter here.” He said, sitting on the edge of the bed “Maybe more than one. Weren’t you in love with him?”

You wanted to grab a pillow, bury your face on it and scream as loud as you could, but for the sake of looking like a sane person you contained yourself. “I thought I was.” You said sincerely. you believed there was a time when you were sure you were in love with Ian, there were moments you thought that the good things about him could outweigh the bad things, but deep down you knew that if you were really in love you wouldn’t have to do all that math, you wouldn’t have to fight to ignore his arrogance and his big ego. 

“And when did you realize that you weren’t?” He continued to ask “Or when did you realize he was a jerk?”

You scoffed, bitterly. “I guess I always knew both, I tried to make it work regardless. I enjoyed being with him for some time, but then he planned an engagement party full of people I didn’t even know. He didn’t care to call any of you and expected me to say yes… Does that say more about him or me?”

He kept quiet, not knowing what to say, but you already knew the answer. 

“Ian was an asshole, kid. He was jealous of you, of your family, of your job, none of us understood why you were with him.” 

“That was not what I asked.” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Ian was a prick, I get it, but I wasn’t much better either.”

“You can’t make me think you deserve each other, are you kidding?” He said. 

“I can’t blame him for everything, I made my own bed.” You huffed “I was terrible and it took me almost four years to snap out of it, that was not his fault.” 

“You are right, but you’re here now, aren’t you?” He reminded you, calmly. “Isn’t that what’s important?” 

You began to become exasperated “C’mon, Simon, don’t try to be nice, you’re supposed to be mad at me.” 

“I am mad at you.” He corrected you, sending a chill down your spine “You’re working all the time, you never call, never text back, we barely see you and the only way to know about your life is when we read some article saying you broke up with your boyfriend because he proposed to you, are you kidding? Of course I am mad, but because I miss you.”

You felt a wave of regret hitting all your senses, suddenly your eyes were burning with tears and you are not supposed to cry, you knew that, but the single tear that slid down your cheek was quicker than any thought that could cross your mind. Somehow, you wished your family hadn't noticed how absent you'd been these past few years, that they just shrugged and said “that’s just her” and forgot about it, it was not necessary to look at Simon’s face to know that he couldn’t just forget about it. He loved you, your mother loved you too, you didn’t have a family that you would want to run away from, but you did it anyway,

“I’m sorry…” You murmured, looking at him with eyes full of regret. “It wasn’t you, it wasn’t any of you, it was me. I was so angry when I left, I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You wouldn’t trade your career for anything, it was one of those few things that made you happy, but after years of trying to convince yourself that every decision you made for the last few years was the right choice, this was the first time that you admitted that maybe you weren’t thinking clearly when you decided to move to the city and never look back. 

Simon frowned, thinking about it twice before asking “Were you angry, bug?”

You tilted your head, giving him a sad smile, hoping that it could explain everything.”I was quite angry, yes.” You answered “Not at you, though.” 

“At mom?” 

“Maybe a little bit at mom, yeah.” You laughed, shaking your head. You sighed deeply, letting the silence sit in the room for a moment before you could put in order all the things you wanted to say. “I remember when I told her I left college she looked at me like I finally lost my mind, it was like she saw it coming, you know? Me, again, being lost, it was not a surprise, but rather something she would expect of me. I know she was just worried and I know I can be a lot sometimes, but it hurt anyway. I don't blame anyone, Simon, but all I needed was someone to believe in me and no one did. I had to leave.” Something ached inside your chest because that was not the whole truth, but it was all you could say tonight, you couldn’t say that Yoongi was also one of the reasons. “I’m not trying to justify myself.” You mumbled “I’m just saying that I was so angry that I didn’t realize how many mistakes I made.” 

The silence that took over the room was so strong it made your stomach squirm. You shifted in your place, but Simon stayed there, with his gaze lost somewhere in the room as he processed what you just said. 

“I always believed in you, you know that?” He spoke, causing your head to snap up towards him. “I know a lot of people tried to tell you that you weren’t, but you’ve always been special and I’ve always seen it.” 

“I know you did.” You sighed. “But I was being so stubborn, I walked away and I’m so sorry.”

“I know you think you’re too much, but you’re not.” He continued talking “Maybe mom just wanted everything to be simple, for her kids to go to college, graduate, get a job and a home and never have to worry about whether they are choosing right or wrong ever again. But you’re not simple, bug, you’re extraordinary and talented and too brilliant to stay still, but you’re not too much, not for me.” 

You held back a sob, feeling ridiculous. “I’m sorry.” You said, once again, because you haven’t said it enough times.

“It’s okay now, I mean it.” Simon reached for your hand to squeeze it tightly. 

You sniffed “God, I should be comforting you for being a bad sister, not the other way around” 

“I don’t need to be comforted, I’m okay as long as you’re here.” He tried to cheer you up. “And you were not a bad sister, you were sad and acted shitty.” 

You smiled, because you told Simon that you were angry but instead he heard that you were sad, you didn’t feel like correcting him because he wasn’t so wrong about that. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeated once again like a scratched record, making him laugh. “Are you still mad at me?”

“No.” he replied, “But only if you promise not to disappear again.” 

You raised your hand, extending your pinky finger in front of his face. “I promise you, Simon, I will not disappear again.”

Simon tangled his pinky with yours, making your promise impossible to be broken, and your soul felt at ease for a moment.

“Fine, good enough for me.” he said, throwing himself back onto the bed. “Now I want to hear everything about the proposal, and I want you to describe to me exactly the face he made when you said no.”

You laughed, throwing yourself on the bed the same way he did and tried to summarize the last three years in just one night. Only for today, your body did you a favor and your head stopped spinning at least for now. Something began to feel right.

Four years ago

Seven days before New Year’s Eve

You could hear the radio at the end of the hallway in your grandmother’s room, softly playing jazz to cancel out the outside noise. Not everyone in the house liked the radio, your cousins always said that it was annoying and kept them awake, but it was still one of those old habits of your grandfather that remained in the house even if he was no longer here, so you liked it. The music inevitably seeped under the door of your room, Yoongi hummed some Frank Sinatra song as if he knew the lyrics to it, making you laugh and beg him to stop. 

You know it’s almost midnight, as your roommate just informed you, but you didn’t want to turn the lights off yet. All of the cookies already disappeared from the plate, Yoongi was laying on his side the same way you were and the lamp on the nightstand warmly lighted up his brown eyes, you couldn’t help but feel you were not supposed to be in such presence, his messy hair and the loose white shirt he wore to sleep, his sleepy eyes, his pink lips; it looked just like the kind of view that was bound to haunt you forever. 

The nightstand that separated you was not far enough to stop that pull from the string in your chest, not when he was looking at you like that, his gaze fixated on yours like he didn’t want to leave you awake alone, and neither did you. You felt yourself shaking because, what was the version of you that existed when you were asleep? And what happened inside his head when you were not there? What was happening inside his head right now?

Did you cross his mind the same way he crossed yours? When you finally fell asleep, would he remember that moment in the closet or would it be just water under the bridge? Did he spend every waking second of the last seven hours thinking of that fleeting moment when you could almost feel his lips on yours?

Or was that just you?

The night was fading away, your eyelids were getting heavy but you still couldn’t find the will to sleep. 

“I’m sorry for today.” You almost whispered, gathering enough courage to mention the little accident “I’m sorry for dragging you with me to the closet.”  

He smiled softly, closing his eyes for a second. “It’s okay, it was cozy.” He teased you, making you groan in annoyance. He laughed loudly at your reaction, annoying you even more. “I’m serious, it was okay.” 

“Was it really?” You asked him “Wasn’t I being silly?”

“It's okay being silly sometimes.” He assured you, but that did not ease that anxious feeling in your stomach. He seemed to see it in your face. “What’s wrong with being a little silly? I would’ve run from your grandmother, too.” 

You bitterly laughed, covering your face with the palms of your hands “Stop, I’m being immature.” You groaned “I’ve got to get my shit together.”

“C’mon Pinky, you have to stop with that.” He said. 

“I would if I could.” You remarked.

“Didn’t you say you were going to get your shit together after the holidays?” He reminded you “Why are you worrying right now?”

Yoongi was right, that was the initial plan, but ever since you came back home everything was pointing in different directions and it was beginning to drive you crazy, it was like the universe was forcing you to think about it, it was not letting you run away from it, not even temporarily. First, it was Yoongi, showing up every few days at your doorstep, grabbing your hand, squeezing your legs, whispering things in your ear like he wanted you to go insane, it was Minnie, offering you a job, talking about The Alley, saying you were supposed to be on the big screen, and then it was your mother, expecting you to make up your mind once for all. And still, you had your whole life ahead, why were you worrying right now?

“I don’t know…” You sighed “What if I come back next year and the plan was not good enough? What if I end up hiding again from everyone?”

Yoongi shifted in bed, curious “Do you have a plan, Pinky?” The nickname rolled off his tongue softly, you swimmed in the tenderness of his voice, something about it made you want to tell him everything.

“Not really, I mean… It all sounds so bad.” 

“You have a plan.” He affirmed, smiling “I want to hear it.”

“It’s not a plan.” You contradicted yourself “If it were a plan, it would suck.”

Yoongi hummed “It’s something like a plan, then.”

You scrunched your nose, unsure. “Yeah, but not quite like a plan, something like a…” You said, but the words died on your lips before you got the chance to finish. 

“Something like a dream, then?” He continued to ask, but you shook your head.

“Something close.” You expressed, unable to find the right words to explain your thoughts. You stayed silent for a second, believing he was beginning to lose interest in the topic, until the words slipped past his lips like a spell.

“Something like a wish.” He pronounced, and he was not asking, it was almost like he knew. 

You thought there was not much difference between a dream and a wish, but in this case, there was. 

You smiled at him, nodding, somehow you felt you could trust him with all your secrets “Yes, like a wish.” You affirmed, and it felt like a confession. “I don’t know Yoongi, have you ever stayed up late and planned something but when you woke up next morning you felt it was stupid? Well, I do that every night.”

“I’m sure that whatever it is, it’s not stupid.” He said, making your heart swell.  

“I would like to believe you…” You murmured “Do you have a dream, Yoongi? Something you’re too scared to wish for?”

You could see him think about it for a moment, but his eyes were still connected with yours. Oh, how you wished to be inside his mind right now, read his thoughts, witness his dreams, know all his secrets.

“Yes.” He confirmed, “But I can’t talk about them out loud right now.” 

You laughed, biting your bottom lip. “Okay, fair. What about those you can say out loud?”

“I’m not going to tell you because you’re going to laugh.” He pouted, making you frown. 

“Laugh?” You repeated, sounding more offended than you actually were. “I would never, c’mon.”

He raised an eyebrow, testing you “You sure?”

“Of course, don’t piss me off.” 

“Fine, fine.” He let out a long sigh, believing you. “My wish would be… to stop time for a while. Sometimes I believe I can’t think when time’s running, all I do is study and come home to my mom, there is very little time that I have for myself.”  

You felt your chest tighten, but it didn't surprise you that Yoongi felt this way. He already mentioned to you that, even if taking care of his mother didn’t feel like a burden, he still felt he was missing out on so many things. 

“And what would you do if time stopped right now?” 

Yoongi shifted his eyes for a moment, and you almost missed it but you saw it, the urge to hold back and the words getting stuck on his throat. 

“Mmm…” He hummed, “I’ll go to the beach.”

“In winter?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t care.”

“And where else?” You continued to ask.

“Honestly? I’ll go anywhere but home.” He confessed.

“What’s wrong with home?” You of all people knew exactly what was wrong with home, but you wanted to hear why he thought that. 

“Home it’s okay,” He waved off. “It just feels like I spent my whole life there. I went to college expecting something to change, and a lot of things did but I still feel like something else is supposed to happen, like there's something else for me to see.” 

It was looking in a mirror, it was the same thing you’ve told him a few days ago but in other words, in another tone. Yoongi sounded resigned, like his wish was clearly something that was not meant to happen and he needed to come to terms with it, nothing could ever make you more sad. 

“There’s plenty for you to see, Yoongi, are you kidding?” You chuckled  “You’re twenty five, you’re barely grasping life.” 

He scoffed, bitterly, “It’s not that easy.” 

“Of course it is easy, do you know it’s not necessary to stop time to go to the beach?” 

“I know, Pinky.” He agreed, “But what does it feel like running away?” 

“Running away would be so bad?” You asked, hearing the question echoing in the room, letting you know that maybe it was something you weren’t supposed to wonder out loud. Yoongi didn’t dare to ask such a question, but you seemed determined to make his wish come true, maybe you were the only one who could do it. 

“Don’t ask me.” He said, looking at the ceiling to avoid your gaze.  “Don’t act like running away isn’t your wish as well” 

You snorted, immediately grabbing a pillow and threatening to punch him in the face with it, but Yoongi is quick to cover his face with his arms.

“Don’t!” He protested, laughing.

 “Don’t expose me like that!” You whined, embarrassed. 

“What, am I wrong?” 

“Maybe you’re not…” You dared to answer, leaving the pillow on the bed again “But how do you know?”

“I told you, Pinky.” He murmured “I just know.”

You shook your head in denial, how could it be? Were you really that transparent or Yoongi really just knew? 

“What else do you know?” You continued to ask, curious. 

He pretended to think about it, pouting his lips and looking at the ceiling as if the answers were to fall from the sky. His eyes shifted towards yours, tilting his head “I know that you would run away to the beach with me if I asked you to.” 

A giggle was built in your throat, you laughed nervously as you tried to decipher if he was joking or not, even if Yoongi could see right through you, it was a bit difficult for you to do the same with him. 

“I don’t know about that.” You said, ignoring the way your heart was beating against your ribcage. “Do you mean in… an hypothetical scenario?” 

“It’s a hypothetical proposal.” He answered.

“I’ll have to check my schedule first.” 

A smirk tugged from the corner of his lips. “What about… two weeks away from now?”

You did the calculation in your head, but you already knew that by then Yoongi would have to go back to class, so you doubted. “What about the semester?” You asked, trying to be the voice of reason. “Your last semester, might I add.”

“That could wait.” He did not hesitate “Isn’t it part of running away? Leaving things behind?”

You laughed “And what would people say about me, then? That I made you leave college, nuh-hu.” 

“Here we go again with that.” He rolled his eyes “I don’t care what people say and, besides, I’m not leaving college, I’m… postponing it.” 

That didn’t sound like the Yoongi you knew at all, but then again, this whole conversation didn’t sound like anything Yoongi from the past would say. A thousand questions crossed your mind, like what do you do on the beach in winter? Wouldn’t being alone be a problem? What are you going to talk about, where are you going to stay? If you say yes, would he grab your hand when you crossed the street, would he try to kiss you again? 

You crossed your arms, thinking about it, not daring to agree right away, but how could you say no? When he was looking at you, convinced that you would say yes. 

You opened your mouth, not sure what you were going to say but still ready to answer, and before you could utter a word, he interrupted you. “Run away with me to the beach, Pinky.” He asked in a soft tone, looking at you with warm eyes and warm words, making your heart shake violently in your chest “Only for now, I promise I’ll make it worth it.”

You smiled, ignoring that little person inside you that tried to warn you about something, but you weren’t sure about what because all you could feel was your heart racing. “Fine, I’ll follow you for now.” You simply said, trying to sound as cool as possible “Let’s run.” 

In that moment you forgot about years and years of disappointment and failed dreams, failed wishes, you ignored the reality, deciding everything was false and true at the same time. You didn’t need to look at the clock to know that it was midnight, something inside your chest sparkled and told you it was time to make your wish, and for some reason, you listened. It echoed in every corner of your mind, your wish was the beach in winter. 

Four days before New Year’s Eve

Two weeks ago, when you bought Yoongi’s Christmas gift, you thought about it like a farewell. You stood in the shop and talked to the tall man with the long face and chose the gift as you tried to convince yourself this was a way of saying goodbye to him. 

That Christmas morning Yoongi tore the brown wrapping paper and opened the long box to find that you decided to give him a red tie. It wasn’t bright red, it was deep dark red, red like a rose. It came with a notebook and a pen with his initials on them. In your mind, you were giving away that version of him that lived in your head and clung to your thoughts and clung to your heart, that version of him you could never let go. Yoongi was about to graduate, he was about to become officially a lawyer, an adult, a man, he wasn’t that boy you fell in love with years ago, he was a wish you had to let in the past and your gift was just a way to remind you of it. You had a purpose, a plan, you had everything figured out until he decided to ask you to run away with him, until you said yes.

His gifts for you were a vinyl copy of Is This It by The Strokes, two tickets to watch When Harry Met Sally at the Alley the following week and a pair of red gloves for the rest of the winter. 

Yoongi looked at you and smiled like you both knew something everyone else in the room didn’t. “The gloves match with the tie.” He had said.

So now you had no plan, what you did have though, was a bunch of pictures of several locations Yoongi thought of booking for your trip to the beach. You were doomed. 

You thought the only person in this town who could possibly understand what you were going through was Minnie, the only person in the world who knew about your feelings for Yoongi, and the only person who you could call a friend at the moment. 

You weren’t expecting to see Minnie again when you saw her at The Alley a few weeks ago, but she had different plans; it was like she forced you to be her friend again. You tried to stop thinking you didn’t deserve it, you had to swallow your guilt and accept her friendship, and after a few five hour calls filled with gossip, you ultimately decided not to be against it, even if she called you everyday and still talked nonstop about that audition in the city, talking with her felt like you were still fifteen, and you liked it.

That night, as she raided her closet looking for a dress for you to wear at the New Year’s party at The Alley, you sat on her bed and gave her a run down of everything that happened with Yoongi since you came back home, it didn’t take her much to get you to admit that you were still in love with your brother’s best friend, so you might as well be honest and tell her everything. 

“You’re being stupid right now, sweetheart.” You heard her muffled voice from inside her closet. The next thing you saw was a piece of fabric flying in the air and landing at your feet. You grabbed it, putting in front of you to reveal a short pink dress that you would never, ever wear. 

You snorted, leaving the dress on the pile of clothes that you already rejected. You seemed to forget that Minnie was not the most adequate person to talk about “boy stuff”, perhaps because she was way too honest. You didn’t know whether it was a mistake or not to tell her about the trip to the beach, because all the questions she was asking and all the things she was stating to be true were thoughts you were desperately trying to avoid. 

“He wants to fuck you, I don’t know how else to tell you this.” She said, walking over the clothes to make her way to you. You threw yourself on the bed, covering your face with your palms “I mean, I wish I could only tell you that he’s head over heels for you, and honey, that he is, but he also wants to fuck you.”

You groaned, kicking your feet. “God, you make me want to throw up.”

“Of excitement, I’m assuming.” She affirmed “I’m telling you, there’s no way you’re going on a trip alone and come back without having fucked.”

You looked at her, begging her to stop talking, but she was not finished. “Stop!”

“Picture this.” She ignored you, forming a rectangle with her fingers and looking right through it as if she was directing a scene from a movie “First scenario, a storm causes the power to go out, there’s no electricity, you have no way to be warm so you sleep in the same bed to warm up, there’s tension, you look at each other and kiss, you fuck.”

“Okay, I don’t see that happening.” You shook your head. 

“Second scenario, you just finished showering, you go out of the bathroom wearing only a towel because you think he’s not there, but he is! He sees you, you kiss, you fuck.”

“That’s not… That sounds like porn.” 

“Third scenario!” She exclaimed. 

“Fine, that’s enough.” You stopped her, waving your arms in the air. 

“No, you have to prepare! And when it happens you will know that I was right.” Your friend insisted, but you refused to let any of those ideas in your mind. 

“What if you’re not?” You wondered “What if he just wants to be my friend and I’m just imagining everything?”

“But you are not, are you kidding?” She laughed “That man is clearly in love with you, why are you convincing yourself otherwise?”

You felt Minnie’s body sitting right next to you, causing you to sit back on the bed to look at her face to face. You were sure you were about to start crying out of frustration. “I don’t know, what if I get hurt?”

Minnie pursed her lips “Baby, I can’t answer that question at all, but you have to take the chance.” 

You groaned, annoyed. “I don’t want to take the chance.” You whined “I was fine before seeing him again, I wasn’t even thinking of him.”

“That is a lie,” She laughed, mocking you. “We both know you never stopped being in love with him, now you have him in the palm of your hand, do something.” 

Minnie stood up again, looking for another piece of clothing on the floor as you kept silent, wondering if any of that could be possible. Did you really have him in the palm of your hand? Was he in love with you and you were being stupid for believing that he wanted to be just friends?

“What should I do?” You asked her, hoping that the redhead in the room knew all the secrets of the universe. 

“Invite him to the New Year’s party and wear a hot outfit, how about that?” Minnie offered, like that could answer all your prayers. 

“Would that resolve all my problems?” You joked, talking to the sky. 

“C’mon, he literally asked you to run away with him, don’t you find that a little bit hot? Don’t you really think that was not code for ‘I want to fuck you’?” 

You laughed “Yoongi is not like that!” You protested. 

“I hate to break it to you, but you are hot.” She insisted, throwing another piece of clothing at your face. “And if Yoongi is not blind, he knows that, and let’s not forget the most important fact here.” 

“Which is…?”

“He’s in love with you, let’s start wrapping our heads around that.” She simply said “Once that’s done, you invite him to the New Year’s eve party at The Alley, you wear a hot outfit and confront him about it, tell him to stop playing around.”

You grabbed the dress Minnie just threw at you, which was another short dress, but this one was actually cute. It was black and was covered in black sparkly sequins with thin straps, you were definitely going to freeze to death if you wore that, but you were sure this fitted the description of “hot outfit”. 

Minnie was right, you couldn’t keep running away from the facts, everything was laid on the table, you didn’t need more proof to know that Yoongi felt something for you, even if you weren’t sure if it was the same that you felt for him, you needed to gather enough courage to find out what it was. 

You grabbed the phone in your pocket and opened Yoongi’s chat, you decided to invite him to the New Year’s party. 

taglist: @kingofbodyrolls @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @yoongisoftface @namgihours @idkjustlovingbts @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @heroinanne @mortal-body-timelesssoul @hiii-priestess @wii-wii @jungkookies1002 @busanbby-jjk @acquiescence804 @yoongibaybee @hsbongwater

[s-awturn]

On The Highest Place On The Podium || LH44

summary: Fortunately, the Paris Olympics coincided with Formula One's summer break, and Lewis had no plans other than to watch his girlfriend shine at the games.

request: @evasmlp

cw: nothing but cuteness and unconditional support from Lewis in the stands

a/n: I loved this request because I can use the joke of Lewis being a wag during the games, so I'll try to make it cute and funny, I might fail, but let's see what happens. My knowledge of rhythmic gymnastics is equally scarce, so don't take it seriously, it's all nonsense. This will be short, unfortunately it's what I can do right now (I have a fucking headache

"Excuse me, excuse me," he asked as he walked to his seat, mumbling apologies. Luckily the competition hadn't started yet, so he hadn't asked for anything. The gym was packed and flags of several countries were seen there, he looked around, searching for her among the competitors and as if he was attracted by a magnet, Lewis found her at the opposite end. Y/N was wearing the Spanish team's tracksuit pants and royal blue leotard that made her stand out among the other gymnasts; Lewis could see that his fiancée was anxious, she rubbed her hands on her arms and He looked around, he knew she was analyzing her opponents, even from afar the pilot could see the gears in her head turning.

Lewis wanted to be there for her and support her, tell her she would do fine, but he knew Y/N and in moments of tension, she preferred to focus alone or with the team, and being an athlete, Lewis understood her need, so ok, he would stay in the stands, cheering for her.

S/N took a deep breath, she would open the finale session with the ribbon, it was her first Olympics, and she felt that the entire weight of her country was on her shoulders; she repeated her mantra, trying to stay centered and calm, and didn't look at the stands, didn't want to know if there were Spanish flags among the fans, she didn't want to look for Lewis either. It was stupid, but she was afraid of disappointing her people and her fiancé, so she kept her eyes on the ground, looking at her blue nails also escaping from the slipper.

"Are you ready, Y/N?"

"Fuck no, but this is the best way" she replied and took off her tracksuit pants, she had chosen Hips Don't Lie as the theme for her solo, the trainer handed her the equipment and she walked to the edge of the mat, Y/N arranged the ribbon around her feet, waiting for the music to start.

As the sound echoed through the gym, Y/N spun on one foot, making the ribbon tremble around her, everyone seemed enchanted by her performance, as if Y/N and her ribbon were one. She ran across the mat and jumped, doing a split in the air as the ribbon fluttered above her head and Y/N finished the performance with a pike.

Lewis was the first to stand up, clapping loudly as he watched his girlfriend thank him and leave the mat, he didn't understand anything about gymnastics, but from what I knew, S/N had a good performance and would have high grades, the chance to go from seventh place to second and securing the silver medal for Spain were great Lewis was rooting for her to make it.

S/N swallowed more than half of the contents of the isotonic bottle, she kept her eyes on the screen while waiting for the note, her heart was a war drum, beating non-stop. 14,987 points, the highest score that she had already received in her career as a gymnast, with that she was on the podium, not the second one as she was thinking, but the first one. If everything went well, she would be Olympic champion! S/N was surrounded by the team, congratulating her and celebrating her grade.

She picked up her phone and checked her messages, smiling at the words of support and cheering from family and friends and of course, a beautiful photo taken by Lewis, at the exact moment she jumped.

You were amazing, doll, I'm proud of you.

She sobbed, holding back tears. Lewis had been so supportive of her last year as she qualified for the Olympics, he had accompanied her to the championships, and even though Y/N denied it, and Lewis was her master sponsor, and he didn't regret a single penny spent on his bride's brilliant career.

Thank you love, I wouldn't be here without you.

She looked for him in the stands, in the middle of the presentation, Lewis took a seat near the team, he needed to be with her after the solo.

Where are you?

Behind you, sweetness

She smiled widely as she jumped onto the bench to hug her fiancé. Lewis kissed her entire face, finishing with a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Of course you'd be here without me, you're amazing, love," he murmured, cupping her face in his hands. "and you're going to win the gold, showing everyone that you're the best."

"Lewis," she scolded, but she kept smiling.

A few minutes later, Y/N returned to the mat, this time with the hoop, this time she chose Julio Iglesias as the backdrop and again. Lewis watched in fascination as the bride gliding gracefully across the mat, she handled the hoop masterfully, humming the song as she performed. Lewis was so proud of her, so happy that she was achieving her goals, slowly but steadily.

Lewis was proud to be engaged to her, he loved talking about her and knew his next helmet would have the same pattern as her leotard, Lewis would honor his future wife in the best way possible.

Y/N couldn't hold back her tears as she heard the Spanish anthem play, she was in her highest place, with the Spanish flag around her body. She had done it, the highest place on the podium was hers, cleanly and honestly. The photo of her on the podium was of S/N kissing the medal, red from crying as she looked at the fruit of her effort.

She looked at Lewis, her heart swelling with pride in her fiancé's eyes. She had secured the two highest places she had ever wanted: the top of the podium and a place in Lewis's heart.

y/nrhythmic, georgerussell63, valtteribottas, carmenmundt and 6,869,650 other people liked it

lewishamilton I don't have enough words to say how proud I am of you. I always knew you were capable of reaching the top of the world, my love, and thank you for letting me be by your side through it ♡

y/nrhythmic I'm a very lucky girl to have you baby 😭🫶🏼 → liked by lewishamilton

[captn-trex]

a little while longer

Hunter x F!Reader

word count: 4.1k

description: your job keeps you away from pabu, your home, more than you would like, but when you return after weeks away, there's a certain someone eager to make you stay for good.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, all that good stuff, wet hair hunter !!!

a/n: been sitting on this for a little while and finally finished it lol, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out in the end. also I realised after that pabu's beach might not be sand....... just pretend it is okay

You brought your ship out of Hyperspace and sighed delightedly at the sight of the swirling blues of Pabu's surface. It was always such a wonderful sight after a long stretch of selling.

You owned a small vineyard on Pabu, though of course none of your customers from other areas of the galaxy knew that's where you operated from. The drinks you made were your main source of money, but you also owned a small wine bar on Pabu. Most of your time was taken up by travelling to other star systems and selling your wares, but your favourite times were spent back home, talking with customers across the bar.

As you entered the upper atmosphere, you were greeted by the wonderful orange and pink hues of the sun disappearing over the horizon. You quickly sped down to the surface, eager to watch the sunset from the town square as you often did when you were back.

When you set down your ship, you saw the flash of blonde hair as the young girl you had grown so familiar with rushed across the square. You smiled at her eagerness, and barely made it out of your ship before you were attacked at the waist by her crushing hug.

“You've been gone for so long!” Omega whined, “You've never been away that long before”

“It was only a few weeks Mega” You told her, but she still wasn't pleased.

“How long are you back for this time?” She asked, her eyes wide and shining up at you.

“I'm not sure” You ruffled her hair with tight lipped smile.

She groaned as she let go of you, “Alright, well I guess I should just make the most of it then”

“That sounds good to me” You smiled down at her as she slung her arm around your waist, pulling you in the direction she knew you'd be going.

Ever since the Bad Batch had arrived on Pabu, you had spent a lot of your time with Omega. For whatever reason, she was very interested by your work, and she often came to help you with some of the more simple parts of the process. She was fascinated that you could create such a mind-altering beverage just from simple fruits. She always wanted to try some, but she was many years away from an acceptable drinking age, and so you had to crush her dreams every time you said no. You thought that she probably continued asking because one day you might just break, and sometimes it felt like that. Her hopeful smile was just too precious, and the look of dismay that followed denying her a taste was enough to make most people do as she liked.

Omega let go of your waist to pull you down onto the ledge by your forearm, a little too close for your comfort but you knew she was smart enough not to fall off.

“Careful Mega” You reminded her anyway, and she rolled her eyes.

“I'm always careful” She said, shuffling closer to you so that she could rest her head on your shoulder.

“I know. Doesn't stop me worrying though” You sighed, leaning your head onto hers and pulling her in with your arm around her back.

“Maker, you're as bad as Hunter” Omega mumbled, earning a chuckle from you.

“Can you blame him? Chaos follows you wherever you go”

“That's not my fault” Omega shrugged.

“Hm, I'm not sure about that… but if you insist” You replied, and both of you settled into silence as you watched the sun setting.

The pink clouds circled and danced around the orange glow, and a deep red was bursting from the horizon line. As the sun sunk lower and lower, the air was filled with a haziness that only came on beautiful summer evenings such as this. It was still warm, a little light and people still moved about in the town, but the lack of wind made everything seem stationary, like a picture, a frame, frozen in time.

“You should get home” You mumbled to Omega, feeling calmed by the serene atmosphere.

“Probably” She sighed, and lifted her head from your shoulder to look at you, “Why don't you come with me?”

“I'd love to Mega, but I should be getting back to the bar really” You told her reluctantly. You had told the person working you'd be back before sunset…

“Awh, come on, just this once? You can come and see Hunter” She grinned up at you and you rolled your eyes. You had made the sore mistake of letting slip the nature of your feelings towards the Sergeant, and Omega saw it as a perfect opportunity to try and play matchmaker. “I'm sure he'd like to see you” She added.

“Yeah yeah, in my dreams right?” You chuckled, and held your hand out to help her up as you stood.

“You know, there's nothing stopping you from just telling him how you feel” She said matter-of-factly, looking up at you with her hands on her hips.

“Well, for now I've still got to go back to the bar. I'll see you tomorrow kid” You smiled at her, and she waved you off before running back home.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you walked in the direction of your bar. It was located down a small street, almost tucked away, but the people of Pabu all knew where it was, those that drank wine anyway.

You approached the building, flower baskets adorning the windows and metal chairs and tables outside, a few people sitting there and enjoying the last traces of light. You brought your lighter from your pocket and lit the candles at the tables, the people smiling appreciatively and welcoming you back to the island.

You absolutely loved it here. You hadn't lived here your whole life like many of the other islanders, but when you had arrived around seven years back, they took you in as one of their own. Everyone was exceedingly friendly, and your dream of running an orchard and wine bar was quickly taken up when you had mentioned it in passing to Shep. A lot of people had pitched in, and you would never be able to repay them for that.

That was partly the reason you spent so much time away, because you couldn't possibly cover the cost of running your business just through the wine bar and the sales you made on the island. There simply weren't enough people. Truthfully, you wished that you never had to leave at all.

“Heya Lenny” You smiled at the man currently working the bar.

“Hey boss, looks like you're late again” He smirked, knowing what had kept you.

“Sorry Len, you can go home now, I've got it from here” You chuckled, setting down your bag behind the bar.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go spend time with that lovely husband of yours” You smirk at him, the emphasis coming from the newness of the title, as they had only got married a month prior.

“Alright, don't threaten me with a good time” He laughed, untying his apron and leaving out the back door.

You settled yourself behind the bar, looking up at all the bottles of wine that adorned the back of it. You smiled, looking at the labels from years gone by, as well as the new additions. You could honestly say that you were proud of yourself for how far you'd come.

“I heard you were looking for me” A voice spoke from behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. You turned towards the front of the bar, and met the soft brown eyes of your favourite customer.

“Who told you that? Wait- let me guess… Omega” You chuckled at the young girl’s attempts to get you two in the same space all the time.

“Oh, you weren't actually looking for me?” Hunter asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I wasn't, but it's nice to see you anyway” You smile.

“You too. When did you get back? You should've come said hi” Hunter leaned on the bar.

“Only as the sun was going down, I had to get back here anyway” You shrugged, brushing past his comment, “What can I get you?”

“Oh nothing, I was only coming to see why you were looking for me” He backed away from bar a little, “I'll leave you to it”

“To what?” Your eyes sparkled with amusement, casting a glance around the empty bar.

Hunter chuckled a little at the realisation, clearing his throat, “Right, sorry”

“Come on” You grinned, grabbing a bottle from a few years back off of the shelf, as well as two glasses. You held them up as you moved from behind the bar, heading outside, “Have a drink with me?”

Hunter smiled, following behind you, “Sure, why not”

The customers that were here when you got back had since left, so it was just the two of you when you sat down at the table outside. It was quiet as you set down the wine glasses on the table, and poured a sensible amount for both of you. You swirled the deep red liquid in the glass and took a sip, smiling as the different notes hit your taste buds.

Hunter watched you with interest, inspecting the way you enjoyed the drink. He took a small sip from his own glass and swallowed thickly to get it down his throat.

“So” You began, crossing one leg over the other as you looked to the clone across from you, “What's been going on since I was away?”

Hunter began going over everything he could think of that happened, which didn't end up being too much. Pabu was peaceful, nothing catastrophic ever really happened, not counting the sea surge that you still jokingly blamed the bad batch for bringing with them. He recounted how Omega had been doing more flying, and that she was pretty much better than him, Wrecker and Crosshair combined by now. He talked about his brothers so fondly, and you loved to listen to it. The way his mouth curled at the edges as if he was trying to surpress it, the creases at the edges of his eyes giving it away. It was clear to you how much he cared for them all, how he still felt responsible for them, and it always warmed your heart.

“And you? How have you been?” You asked, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled breathily, “Yeah I'm fine”

“Just fine?” You arched an eyebrow at him subtly.

“Good, then. I don't know” He shrugged with a small smile.

You shook your head a little. You had told him before that he thinks of himself far too little, so you knew he knew what you were getting at.

“Sorry, I've just been rambling on, what about you? How were your travels?”

A sigh escaped your lips before you gave it permission, “Fine, as always”

Hunter knew you didn't like leaving. You had once drunkenly regaled him with all of the worst tales of your travels, an unfortunate memory your mind replayed often at night when sleep eluded you.

“Did something happen?” He asked.

“No, I'd just rather not have to do it”

“Why do you? Couldn't you get someone else to do it?”

“I wouldn't want to subject anyone else to it, and besides, I've gotta pay the bills somehow” You said with a tight smile.

“I'm sure Shep wouldn't mind helping out in some way” He suggested, but you shook your head forcefully.

“I've already taken too much from the people of Pabu”

Hunter could see the guilt written on your face as plain as day. He wished he could reach out and ease the crease that formed in your brow whenever you were reminded of how much had been given to you in your time on Pabu. You found it hard to accept help, Hunter had learnt that the hard way, but he could never find the right words to express just how much he felt you deserved. He would give you the galaxy if it was his to give, but that was far to obscene to just say in passing.

“It's fine” You blinked a few times, “The time I do get to spend here makes up for it”

Hunter offered you a sympathetic smile, “Omega misses you a lot when you leave”

You chuckled, “That sentence alone makes me want to never leave again”

Hunter huffed a small laugh, understanding completely what you meant. He, along with everyone else, had a hard time saying no to the small blonde clone. The only person he had seen handle saying no to her well, was you.

After a moment of silence, he spoke what was on his mind.

“I miss you when you leave too”

You just took a sip of wine and tried not to react in any sort of way, but that was always more difficult around Hunter, who could sense just about anything, any changes in your body.

“Yeah, I- I miss you too, all of you” You tried to act casually about it. Hunter smiled kindly and your eyes flicked away briefly.

“You not enjoying this one?” You asked, pointing to his almost untouched glass of wine

“Uh…” He scratched his neck, “To be honest, I don't really like any wine” He said cautiously and your mouth dropped open, “Sorry”

“You don't need to apologise, but… Hunter you've been coming here for the better part of a year, and you don't even like any of the drinks we sell?”

“Well… I wasn't really coming for the drinks” He said with a small smile stretching across his face.

You just looked at him puzzled, but he waited for you to figure it out, “I-” You frowned deeply, looking at him and trying to understand, “I'm confused”

He chuckled at your cluelessness, “I only come to see you”

“Oh” You said quietly, almost dumbfounded.

“Yeah, you're either always working, or away, so… I have to take what I can get”

You suddenly felt alive inside.

“I… I would have hung out with you if you had asked”

Hunter cocked his head slightly, looking vaguely amused, “I did ask”

“Well, I didn't know you were serious” You said, your cheeks heating up a little.

“I'm always serious” He replied, earning a laugh from you.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, just watching him, and him watching you. He raised an eyebrow slightly as if to ask what was going on in your head. Truthfully, you didn't know.

You then stood up quickly, “Let's get out of here”

“What?”

“There's no one here anyway, let's go to the beach” You said, drinking the remainder of your wine and grabbing the other glass and bottle.

“What's at the beach?”

You shrugged with a grin, “I guess we'll find out”

You're body felt like it had been electrified as Hunter helped you take the tables inside, and your hands were almost shaking as you locked the door. You never did anything spontaneous, especially not nowadays, and the prospect of taking the evening as it came felt exhilarating. You were positively buzzing, maybe from the wine, but mainly from the nervous energy bubbling up inside of you.

Hunter could sense it. It was the strangest sensation, it's like your insides were trying to escape you, pent up with fizzing electricity, like static.

“Race you there?” You smirked up at him, and quickly ran off in the direction of the beach.

Hunter let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment just watched you sprint away from him, his smile taking over his face. He darted after you as you rounded the corner, not necessarily caring to beat you there, but just to engage in your sudden spontaneity.

The wind was whipping at your face, sending your hair flying behind you as you winded around the cobbled streets. You hadn't felt so free, so youthful, in such a long time, and it was nice to indulge in such a feeling.

When you reached the beach, you slipped off your shoes and sunk your toes into the sand. The sensation was strange but familiar, something you hadn't done for years. The sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon now, and the moon was shining proudly, casting a gentle blue light over the waves.

Hunter came to stand beside you, an intrigued smirk curling the edge of his lips. You looked up him, and couldn't help but mirror his expression. He could see the glimmer of mischief in your eyes and waited for whatever idea you had to unfold in front of him. Though, he was wholly unprepared when you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off.

“Woah!” He stepped back slightly, “Uh… What are you doing?”

“Going swimming” You said simply, unbuttoning your trousers and tugging them down.

Hunter's mind was reeling. One minute you were standing next to him, looking up at him innocently, and now here you were, walking away from him in only your underwear. He couldn't help but let his mouth hang open a little.

You turned to look at him from the edge of the water, “Are you coming?”

The moonlight illuminated the edges of your silhouette, your smirk undeniable even in the low light. Hunter was frozen, the sight in front of him making him breathless. As you turned your body towards him, hands on your hips with your brow arched questioningly, he gulped.

He didn't say anything, but he slowly reached back and took off his shirt. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he unbuttoned his trousers and left them in a crumpled pile with the rest of the discarded clothes. You bit your lip a little, turning back to the ocean and stepping into the water.

It was freezing, and you shivered violently, a small gasp escaping your lips. You waded in, getting used to the temperature, until the water came up to your mid-thigh. You heard a hiss as Hunter followed you in, and looked back at him, a genuine smile on your face.

“How are you in that far? It's kriffing freezing” He grumbled, moving away from the shoreline.

You laughed at him, “What's that? The big bad Sergeant can't handle a little cold water?”

The teasing look on your face was enough to make his knees fold in on themselves, but he kept a calm exterior as he shook his head and stepped into the water again.

“I'm not so bad, am I?” He said in reply to your mocking remark, finally reaching your position.

“Hm” You hummed, arms crossed over your chest, “That remains to be seen”

Hunter's eyebrows raised slightly, looking down at your teasing expression with a smirk. The longer he looked at you like that, the more you cracked, your confident streak fizzling out. He could feel your heart beating faster each second, and saw the light dusting of a blush across your cheeks, and his smirk faded into a more sincere smile.

“Come on” You nodded your head out to sea, “There's a place I want to show you”

You then dove into the water, submerging yourself completely. You broke the surface after a few moments, swimming out into seemingly - to Hunter - the open ocean. After a minute, you got to the rock that jutted out just above the water level, and hauled yourself onto it. Hunter followed after you, reluctantly at first as the freezing water chilled him to his bones, but seeing you sat atop the rock, body glistening in the moonlight, he soon forgot all about the temperature of the water.

Watching Hunter pull himself out of the water was unlike anything you had ever gazed upon. The moon cast a light on the drops of water that ran down his toned body, making it glitter, and highlighting every muscle as it moved to push himself to sit next to you. His hair was pulled down by the weight of the water, the pieces around his face falling over his eyes so that he had to push them away.

You couldn't look away. He was gorgeous.

His chest was heaving as his eyes found yours, both of you out of breath from swimming. The air between you felt different, charged with unspoken feelings that were quickly becoming apparent. Hunter's gaze was serious, a small crease in his brow as he looked at you.

“I don't want you to leave again” He admitted quietly.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away from him. There wasn’t really anything you could say.

“I don't want to either” You confessed, your shoulders slightly slumped.

“Then don't” He urged, and you tilted your head back to him. He looked at you with such longing, his eyes slightly wide and swimming with emotion. He reached out and gently placed his hand on your cheek, “Stay with me”

Your breath caught in your throat, “I can't promise something like that Hunter”

“Why not?” He asked softly.

“I-” You began, but hesitated when Hunter brought your face closer to his.

“Why not?” He asked again, looking so deeply into your eyes that he could be looking at your very soul.

“I- I don't know” You stuttered out, mesmerised by his gaze.

Hunter smirked, “Exactly”

He then immediately pulled away and slid back into the water, swimming towards shore faster than you could possibly keep up with.

“Hey!” You shouted after him, entering the water once more and racing after him. He stood in the shallows as you approached him, but before you could ask what that was all about, he scooped you up into his arms. His hands found themselves under your thighs and he pulled your body towards his, making you let out a small squeal at the sudden and unexpected closeness.

“You're going to stay here, on Pabu. I'm going to make you” He claimed.

“You're going to make me? How do you intend to do that?” You asked with a smile, feeling giddy from his words and the feel of his strong arms holding up your almost bare body.

“Like this” He mumbled before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was passionate, so much more so than you were expecting. It was a perfect climax to the tension that had been building all evening, possibly all year, finally bursting and dissipating. His lips moved against yours with an urgency, his plea for you to stay echoed by his actions. He held you close to him, one arm snaking around to your back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You deepened the kiss, your hand finding itself lightly tugging on his hair at the base of his scalp. He groaned quietly as he devoured your mouth, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip. After a short while, you broke away to catch your breath, the kiss feeling like it had taken your very lungs away.

“Well, that was certainly convincing” You grinned, pulling a laugh from Hunter.

He pressed his forehead into yours, his gaze becoming more serious, “If I do it again, will you stay?”

You sighed slightly, but the look in his eyes made you feel like everything in the galaxy was right, exactly how things were right now, with you in his arms. It made you feel alive, and the intense urge to finally do something self-indulgent brought your answer from you.

“Yes” You replied in a whisper, “I'll stay”

His hands gripped you tightly as he brought his lips to yours again, and you completely lost yourself in the sensation.

The feel of his body against yours, his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, were enough to make you want to stay forever. You could figure out the problems this would bring later, but for now, you were eager to get a taste of what the rest of your life could feel like.

[shinestarhwaa]

CAM GIRL || SONG MINGI

Where Mingi learns his new flame is a camgirl

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Mingi x Camgirl!Fem reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Tags/warnings: Pornography/camgirl, first date AU, dirty language, masturbation

Taglist:

@anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @lemonhongjoong @1-800-shedevil @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @glintneon123 @mjyungi

ENJOY!

"You're a what now?" Mingi asked in awe. You laughed and crossed your legs as you sipped your wine. "I am a camgirl, Mingi," you answered.

"Wow. Sorry. Wow. I don't... know what to say. I have never met a... camgirl before, let alone been on a date with one," he grinned. You grinned as you felt the dry Pinot Grigio on your tastebuds. You weren't the best at handling wine but it was too delicious to reject.

"How long have you been doing that... particular job, Y/N?" He asked, taking another bite of his dessert. "Well, I started out with just revealing pictures, but honestly I enjoy the attention and decided to try it out, so I became a camgirl, that was... three years ago."

"I know it's rude to ask but you must... make a lot of money, don't you?"

You laughed and nodded. "Desperate men love to send money to naked girls." "Do you also take their requests and stuff?" "I do sometimes," you nodded. It was slightly cute, heartwarming even, the way he was so interested in your story.

"Wah," Mingi puffed out, "I'm a little taken aback." You grinned and nodded, finishing the cheesecake dessert you had been devouring. "I understand, not a lot of people confess to working in that industry," you said.

"So... So you show...everything on camera?" He asked carefully. You nodded as you finished your wine as well. "Everything," you answered, "my nickname is Dazy Rose if you wanted to check me out." Mingi started blushing from your words, making you laugh.

Mingi paid for the dinner which you've thanked him for. He drove you home and gave you a kiss goodnight. When he got home he browsed all over the internet to find you, finding your OnlyFans account and the site you do your lives on.

He felt very intrigued by the seductive profile picture and he decided to impulsively create an account so he could subscribe to your pictures. Mingi made sure to have a vague nickname (mangobanana99, don't judge him) and subscribe to you.

Mingi was so excited to look at your pictures but he also felt bad that he could see every part of your body online but you hadn't seen anything of him. That feeling was taken away soon enough when there was a ding! heard from his laptop: Dazy Rose is live.

"Really?" He mumbled, "Live after our date?" Mingi scoffed but then he realized you might expect him to be watching and searching your name right now. What if he's the one who got you turned on? Mingi decided to click and join the live. He wasn't proud of it but he had already made an account for the website anyway.

When he joined the livestream 405 people had already joined before him. "Wah, she must have a lot of fans," Mingi mumbled as he sat his laptop down on his thighs.

"Hi everyone~" your voice chimed from the speakers of his laptop.

Youknowit69: Hello my darling

Mr.sexyleo: Hi sweetie, I have been waiting for you!

Comments were flooding in as you introduced yourself for new viewers. You sat on a bed in a red lingerie set that made Mingi's mind spin. You made casual conversation with them first, making Mingi chuckle at the questions you answered.

"Have I eaten?" She was asked. Mingi's ears nearly perked up at that question and he prepared himself. Was she going to mention him?

"I certainly have, I went out to a lovely restaurant and they had the best food~ Food is pretty great when you don't have to pay for it," she joked, "I had really nice company."

Yes. There we go, nice company! Mingi felt like he won a prize as you said that. His fingers were typing a response before he even knew what he was doing.

Mangobanana69: You must've gone on a date, did the gentleman treat you well?

You laughed and nodded, "Yes, he treated me very well. He was hot too, I kinda hope he's watching so he can witness how wet his face made me."

Mingi swallowed thickly at that and felt himself harden in his slacks when you slipped your panties off and spread your legs. Wow.

Mangobanana69: what a pretty fuckin pussy

"Yeah? You like my pussy?" She smirked as she showed it off for the viewers. Mingi opened the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper before whipping his hard cock out.

He couldn't believe he was doing this; masturbating to a livestream of a camgirl after a date with her. Normally you go out with someone and you hope to have sex eventually. But maybe you'd still wanna have sex with him soon? Either way, it was strange that he'd see your body first.

That feeling flooded away when he saw you rub your clit and softly moan out. He gasped and immediately took his cock in his hand, slowly pumping it up and down.

Mr.sexyleo: that's it babygirl, I love the way you whine

Daddy033: I wish you were here right now so I could throw you around and pound you

Mingi felt himself slightly jealous at the comments, but he saw he was just one of the 2849 people watching you touch yourself right now. He shouldn't feel jealous about this, you weren't his to begin with. Still he wanted to smack those dudes.

You fucked yourself on your fingers, moaning louder and making sure everyone could properly see your gushing hole. You even came closer to the camera and mic to show it off. Mingi lost his mind at the squelching sound and he started to pump his cock faster, moaning your name.

The sound of your moans got Mingi releasing earlier than expected, his cum coating his hand. Mingi sighed as he laid there, staring at the screen, watching you fuck yourself on the biggest dildo he's ever seen. Post-nut guilt was hard on him but he couldn't close his laptop, he wanted to watch you unravel for him. Except it wasn't for him.

It took a few more minutes for you to cum, showing off all the spasms from your pretty pussy to the camera. He smiled as he watched you regain your breath again. After coming down from your high you thanked all the viewers and apologized for the short live tonight. Mingi left the live and quickly cleaned himself up.

That's when he heard a message pop up on his phone and it happened to be you. He checked it quickly, mouth falling open when he read what it said.

"Come over. NOW."

And he wasted no time.

[vanishingcherry]

Hey Leah, hope you’re doing good. If you’re taking requests, please could I get either Charles or Lando x fem reader. I had a really shitty day and my friends seem really distant and I feel super sad. Thank you x

PIANO LESSONS

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: heyy! im so sorry about your day... i hope you're feeling better now 🥰. im sorry its a bit late, ive just been in a writing slump and didn't have anything finished. ive had this in my drafts for a while tho so here you go!

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

It was summer break, which meant Charles was home for over 2 weeks and you had him all to yourself. Granted, you did have days in which you would go out with family and friends, but it was a manner of speaking. It meant that you would be together almost 24/7 for days at a time, something rare in his career.

That was why the two of you had pre-decided to make the most of it. Charles felt guilty sometimes, about not being, in his words, the boyfriend you deserved. Although you had told him multiple times that he was perfect, he held on to that insecurity, which is why you went along with everything he planned, knowing that all he wanted to do was spend time with you.

You could honestly say you had been on more dates in the last week than you had so far in the year. There were the simple dinner dates, movie dates, hiking dates and also the more unique ones, such as the one that ended with, for some reason, throwing paint on each other.

But with all that, there were also the more quiet days. The days in which the two of you would stay in your apartment all day long. Those were your favourite days. There was something special about being able to wake up late, not having to worry about work or some sort of event.

"Have you been awake a while?" you whisper, shifting so that you would be closer to him, tucking your head under his own as he continues to run his fingers through your hair.

"Ouais." he murmurs. Yeah. "Mais c'est bien. I like looking at you."

It was another one of these days, and you were coming back from the kitchen with a snack when you heard the soft notes of the piano. Smiling, you switched off your phone and walked into the makeshift studio you and Charles had converted a guest bedroom into.

He had taken piano lessons during quarantine, and you had never been happier with his decision. There would be times in which you would come home from work, the sound of music immediately putting you in a state of relaxation.

You stand in the doorway, watching as his fingers dance across the keys. A few minutes later, when he stops playing, you walk over and sit next to him.

"What piece was that?" you ask softly, not wanting to speak too loud. You rest your head on his shoulder, offering him a chip from your bowl.

"Did you like it?" he replies, answering with a question of his own.

"Yeah, it was beautiful. I loved it."

"It's mine. I made it." he admits sheepishly. "I was just trying something out."

"REALLY? Oh my god, amour!" Your eyes widen at his words, head turning towards him in disbelief.

"Yeah. You actually like it?"

"Yes, of course! Oh my god, bebe. How did you- I'm so proud."

He shyly smiles at your praise, before piping up. "Do you want me to teach you?"

"Your song?" you ask, clearly excited.

"Well" he starts. "Maybe not my song right now, but I can teach you an easier song... and then we can work up to my song?"

"Ouais! I can't believe I never thought of that before."

He smiles at your enthusiasm before wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He then gently takes your hands, placing them on the keys, keeping his fingers over your own. He looks at your expressing for a few seconds, unable to stop the smile from creeping on his face as he realises just how special you are.

"You press this finger and this finger at the same time, and hold it for a second" he directs, after shaking his head to focus, pressing down on the right keys.

You follow his directions, going over ever note a few times before moving on. He was patient, overly so, helping you with the biggest grin as you ask him to repeat the last few steps.

Before you knew it, it had been over an hour, and you had learnt quite a bit of what Charles was teaching you. At this point, both of your attention spans were low, and there wasn't a lot of playing going on. Rather, it was you trying to get through the last few notes before a break while Charles lightly tickled your sides, proving to be an annoyingly cute distraction.

"I think I'm done for today" you sigh, shifting slightly to rest your back against Charles.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm tired." you say.

He nods sympathetically before standing up and pulling on your hands to make you do the same.

"You go to bed and put something on the TV, okay? I'll make dinner and be there soon."

"Are you sure? Do you want me to help?"

"It's just pasta" he replies, shrugging and lightly pushing you in the direction of the bedroom.

"Okay... but I want mine al dente", you emphasize. "Not croccante"

liked by arthurleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 309,857 others

yourusername thanks for the piano lesson @.charlesleclerc

view all 8,547 comments

charlesfan oh to have charles as a piano teacher

scuderiaferrari couple goals

ynfan AUS23 yn's pov when

charlesleclerc of course ❤️... same time tomorrow?

↳ yourusername i'd love to

[quinloki]

quin-uhhh:

would you?!

Fic authors self rec! When you receive this, reply with favorite five fics you've written (include links, and if you want- a few thoughts about each one), then pass on to at least five other writers if you're up for it. Spread the self-love ✨

If you don't, I'll just... I'll just... well I won't do a thing but please?!

many fist pumps,

▲ I'm a symbol now

\o/ Tri, my sweet friend, you are - if anything - a symbol of good cheer =D ♥

Let's see, five favorite fics I've written. That's much easier than trying to pick just one ^_^

Birds of a Feather Marco/Reader ( tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - This is my most recently completed fic, at least at the time of this post, but I love it so much. My passion for Marco feels like it came out of nowhere and has made itself reigning champion in my thoughts. But a story I expected to be relatively short, ended up almost twice as long as I expected, and it was so easy. It was fun to write, and I think it goes down smooth, despite being nearly 90k words people consistently devour it in a single sitting.

Quicksand Sir Crocodile/Reader ( tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - Not sure if you're a fan of the sandy crocodile-themed warlord? Tread carefully, reading this title is statistically likely to convert you. Quicksand has an alternative ending because the story was originally intended to be a very dark Yandere - to the point that Doflamingo would've been the "good" guy. That's not how things went, and I'm quite glad for it. Quicksand going its own direction is what helped seal the deal in creating the Tales of the Grandline Metropolis, which is currently 3.8 completed stories. (it'll be at least 8 before it's done).

A Light Touch Eustass Kid/Reader ( Ao3 / Wattpad ) - My first Eustass Kid/Reader story. Set in the same AU as Quicksand, it was started from a pun, of all things. I figured Kid would be fancy tech stuff like neural-linked prosthetics, and the idea that would make a prosthetic for the reader after they lost a hand was something I wanted to write. Creating something like that would take a light touch, and if it glowed, that would be a different kind of light touch and getting close to Kid requires a light-- you get the point. Like I said, it's all based off a pun, but I'm really proud of the story, it's one of my favorite re-reads.

Some Direction Zoro/Reader (tumblr / Ao3 / Wattpad ) - A Modern AU where the government mandates who you marry. I have to give thanks to @lyndsyh24 for not only inspiring me to write this one (start to finish in a single month, I was obsessed!) but also for allowing my to play in the AU she'd built up. From Matchbook to the laws themselves, it's all thanks to Lyn. Zoro started out as one of my favorite characters in the series - I still have love for him, and I'm always happy to write him, but he's taken a bit of a back seat to my top three. Still Some Direction is a story I'm really proud of - even if I worry there'll be a mob after me for who the antagonist is 😅

Family Ties Doflamingo/Reader ( Ao3 / Wattpad ) - I was torn on this last choice - even with five slots it's hard to decide between stories I suppose ^^; Also, oops, apparently I only put the first ten chapters on tumblr... I need to fix that >.> Ahem, anyway, Family Ties is the first fic I wrote after over ten years of not writing at all. It's my first reader insert, my first true multi-chapter too. When I wrote it, it was the longest fic I'd written by nearly 50k words. I wrote it because I wanted a more morally ambiguous reader compared to what I'd been reading. It's not a dark fic though, it's pretty tooth-achingly sweet, honestly, but it's currently the only fic I have where the reader is a murderer in a very undisputed and direct manner.

Honorable mention I almost posted as piece 5 - The Dragon's Clause - my Sabo/Reader Noble/Fantasy/Magic AU, and also the only title I mention that's incomplete. But it's a an ode to my favorite genre, and a great many of my favorite tropes.

[gimmethatagustd]

bad boy, good lips | pjm + jhs

Hoseok is a superhero's sidekick. Jimin is a villain. They make it work.

○ Pairing: Villain!Jimin x Sidekick!Hoseok (from Falling Into You)

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Fantasy, superheroes/superpowers, college au, slice of life, on-and-off relationship, smut

○ 7 / 100 Drabble Challenge (Superhero)

○ Word Count: 2,952

○ Warnings: This is just a blow job scene basically so don't read it if you don't like it

○ Notes: I highly recommend reading the series before reading this! Alternatively, if you like this, then you'll probably like the series even more. The series is one I'm super proud of, and it's mostly fluff about how cute Yoongi is so all the Yoongi stans rise up 🤭

○ Post Date: February 3, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? CLEARED (remix) - Lilithzplug

“Two superheroes, a sidekick, and a villain walk into a bar–”

“–and the superheroes pay for the drinks because they’ll be the ones with all the fame and glory,” Jimin finishes Yoongi’s sentence with a sharp grin. 

“Jimin-ah,” Yoongi huffs as he holds the door open for his friends. 

Jimin lets Hoseok and Taehyung enter first. Jimin knows that if he and Hoseok go first, then Taehyung will awkwardly try to get Yoongi to enter the bar before he does, even though Yoongi is the one holding the door, and then Taehyung will trip on his way inside and embarrass himself. As funny as Taehyung’s crush on Yoongi is, it can be painful to sit through – even now, when Yoongi and Taehyung are officially dating. 

Jimin may be a villain, but he isn’t a sadist. 

Besides, one highly possible outcome is that Taehyung gets all flustered and makes plants start shooting out of the ground, completely ruining the friends’ night out celebrating the end of finals. Boo.  

Jimin turns around to stick his tongue out at Yoongi, ignoring the wide-eyed look on Taehyung’s face. The poor kid is so terrified of him that he’d buy the whole bar a round of shots if Jimin asked him to. It’s funny. Jimin is virtually harmless. 

“Don’t Jimin-ah me, Min Yoongi. You can’t argue against this; I am all-knowing.” 

In front of him, Hoseok snorts. It’s difficult to know what he has found amusing since Hoseok is always, intentionally or not, swimming in the inner thoughts of everyone around him. Jimin has long since gotten over the unnerving reality that his best friend can hear his thoughts. If anything, Hoseok should be thankful to Jimin. Having access to Jimin’s thoughts means having access to all the little glimpses of the future that flit through his head. Hoseok has said it’s challenging to sort through the mess of scenes, understandably so. It has taken Jimin years to gain control over his power of precognition. 

“You are not all-knowing. You’re a glorified fortune teller,” Hoseok teases, confirming that his earlier snort was in response to Jimin’s cocky comment. 

“Hyung, how dare you?” Jimin gasps as the four men find a booth near the back of the bar. 

It’s a classic dive bar, dimly lit and vaguely smokey. The wooden table isn’t sticky when Jimin presses his palm against the surface as he slides into the booth, so that’s a win – not that he didn’t already know it wouldn’t be. Rare is it that anything surprises Jimin. He tries not to focus his energy on decoding the scenes that flit through his mind like specks of dust sparkling in the sunlight. Learning to shoo them away has taken time and diligent practice as a villain trainee.

Hoseok sits opposite Jimin, also sliding into the booth first. Taehyung quickly follows Hoseok without sparing Jimin a glance, leaving Yoongi to sit beside Jimin. They all already know that Yoongi will be the one to get their drinks from the bar once everyone decides on what they want. Though healing is Yoongi’s superpower, his entire personality is thoughtful and gentle.

The kindness of it all disgusts Jimin just as much as it fascinates him.

Sometimes, Jimin wonders if Yoongi can heal whatever part of Jimin made him a villain. It isn’t that Jimin minds that this is the path he has chosen for himself; after all, he knows what would’ve happened if he had chosen the path of a hero or sidekick. The thought of becoming something else makes Jimin’s brain itch.

A kick to the shin forces Jimin to blink, ripping his eyes from Yoongi’s profile to stare at Hoseok’s frown from across the table. Hoseok knows what Jimin is thinking, and Jimin doesn’t need words to understand him.

Hoseok believes Jimin is perfect the way he is. The narcissist inside Jimin agrees.

“Can someone pass me the specialty drink menu?” Taehyung chirps from the other end of the table. He speaks cutely, like he always does, each note sounding as sweet as he smells, floral yet a bit earthy, dirt beneath half-bitten nails.

Looking up from his phone, Hoseok eyes the menu where it’s propped up against the wall by a napkin holder. The laminated sheet is definitely sticky; Jimin doesn’t need supernatural qualities to tell him that. Luckily, with Hoseok around, there’s no need to touch the grimey thing. It takes little effort for him to use his telekinesis to lift the menu from one end of the table and gently drop it with his mind in front of Taehyung.  

“How did your examinations go, Hobah?” Yoongi asks while he leans on his forearms to get closer to Taehyung so they can both review the menu.

“Ah, the usual,” Hoseok shrugs with a slight pout, “Combat still fucks me over, but Jimin has been helping me, so my scores should be much higher this semester.”

“Is that allowed?” Taehyung’s bright eyes slide from Hoseok to Jimin.

Wiggling a little in his seat, Jimin bites back a cocky grin.

“It isn’t not allowed,” Jimin settles on saying, punctuating his statement with an airy laugh.

He isn’t lying. As far as he knows, no rules at the various universities in Seoul prohibit superhero and sidekick trainees from fraternizing with villain trainees. Of course, it isn’t the smartest thing to do. Secret sharing across enemy lines can only come back to bite someone in the ass. Is Jimin disadvantaged because Hoseok has an intimate understanding of his combat style? Will Hoseok come to regret letting Jimin know his weaknesses?

Running his tongue along his bottom lip, Jimin watches Hoseok with his pretty lips parted in a slight smirk. Hoseok has more weaknesses than just poor combat skills.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Yoongi offers.

“Do you think I would hurt him?” Jimin plays affronted, and Yoongi sees right through it.

Yoongi sighs, but his lips quirk with a smile when he and Taehyung share a small look.

“Just figure out what you want to order, yeah?”

After the three tell Yoongi their drink orders, he leaves the table to relay the information to the bartender at the counter. It only takes about three seconds before Taehyung shoots out of his seat, muttering something about helping Yoongi carry their drinks before the kid scrambles toward the bar counter.

“You freak him out,” Hoseok observes with a chuckle that Jimin mimics.

“I can’t imagine why.”

“It’s how sneaky you act.” Hoseok props his elbow on the table and holds his chin in his hand. “Like you know something he doesn’t.”

Jimin grins, teeth bright and sharp.

“But I do.”

“Mmm…” Hoseok’s dark eyes start straight into Jimin’s gray ones.

Looking for something? Jimin thinks, his grin spreading when Hoseok’s cheeks flush pink.

“Nothing in particular.”

You’re cute when you’re nosy.

“I hear; I don’t listen.”

Jimin scoffs, eyes rolling despite his playful expression.

Liar.

A blunt laugh punches out of Hoseok’s chest. He looks across the bar to see Yoongi and Taehyung hold hands while they wait for their drinks.

“You could be a villain if you wanted,” Jimin murmurs, careful not to talk too loudly in case other bar patrons are as nosy as his telepathic friend. “Your powers are perfect for it, and you have a certain… flair.”

“I would never.”

“Too good for it?” Jimin’s grin is impossibly bright.

Hoseok chews his bottom lip for a moment. It's shiny with spit when he releases it from between his teeth.

“Something like that,” he admits, leaning back against his seat.

Ignoring Hoseok’s non-answer, Jimin rests both forearms on the table and leans forward, making up for the distance Hoseok put between them when he rested against the back of the booth.

“Would you like to know what I see in your future, Hobi hyung?” Jimin purrs. 

“You already know the answer.” 

“I want you to say it anyway.” 

“Fine,” Hoseok concedes with a cheery smile, “I would love to know what you see in my future, JimJam.”

“I see you pressed against the bathroom door of this shitty bar while I suck you off so good you start crying.”

Evil satisfaction bubbles in Jimin’s hot veins when Hoseok closes his eyes and slowly inhales, pulling his upper body up and inward. It takes time to recover from Jimin’s bluntness, though Hoseok should be accustomed to his behavior. Never one to run out of confidence, Jimin has thousands of possibilities flipping through his brain like a Rolodex, each categorized by the probability of Jimin getting the best outcome for his personal gain.

Seducing Hoseok was one of Jimin’s personal bests.

“There is no future in which you can resist me,” Jimin had cooed in Hoseok’s ear the first time they fucked.

It was quick and hardly memorable, both of them young college kids heavily intoxicated, too worried about shoving each other in the bathroom of some random house party and getting their skinny jeans around their thighs to care about much else. Heroes, villains — none of it mattered.

Still, none of it does.

“Yoongi hyung is thinking about the face masks he bought to use later tonight with Taehyung,” Hoseok says carefully, finally opening his eyes. He watches their friends at the bar. “Tae wants to go home because he’s tired. And because you freak him out. He’s giving himself a two-drink max.”

When Hoseok turns back around, Jimin is already getting up.

“It’s going to take them a while to get our drinks. That bitch in the pink will cut Yoongi in line, and he’ll be too nice to say anything,” Jimin gestures with a jerk of his head in the direction of a girl inching toward the bar.

As the two men pass the bar counter on their way to the bathroom, Jimin lightly touches the elbow of the girl in the pink halter top.

“God, it’s taking a while, isn’t it?” he whines with a pout. The girl’s frown deepens.

“Yes! Like, what the fuck! I don’t understand why they only have one bartender when it’s getting so busy.”

Meddling with the future isn’t something Jimin believes in. No, he prefers to… leave suggestions sprinkled about, nothing major. Planting seeds is better than bulldozing trees. Miss Pink Halter Top was going to be a bitch about the service anyway; Jimin only gave her a little push in the right direction. 

Smug and satisfied with himself, Jimin laces his fingers with Hoseok’s. They’re far more graceful slipping into the single-person bathroom in the back of the bar than they had been at that college party nearly four years ago. Experience has allowed Jimin to know how Hoseok likes being touched, kissed, and cared for.

Comfortable with the veil of protective mystery that comes with an on-and-off relationship, Jimin doesn’t worry about what Hoseok does when they aren’t together; he knows he’s the only one who can treat Hoseok right.

Besides, Jimin knows every possible end to their relationship; all he ever sees is the two of them, hand-in-hand.

The moment Hoseok locks the bathroom door behind them, Jimin falls to his knees in front of him. Hoseok looks good from this angle, jaw sharp and eyes narrowed when he peers down at Jimin’s expecting mouth.

“Stop thinking about how pretty I am,” Hoseok rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush bright pink, and a heart-shaped smile brightens his face. “It’s embarrassing when you have your face against my…” He waves at his crotch.

“Relax, hyung,” Jimin purrs, biting the zipper of Hoseok’s pants and tugging while he opens the button with his fingers.

Toned and impossibly smooth, Hoseok’s thighs quiver as Jimin tugs his jeans and briefs halfway down, far enough to free his cock. It hangs limp, not yet hard, but Jimin knows in more ways than one that it won’t take long to get Hoseok worked up.

All Jimin has to think about is them fucking, and Hoseok is already whimpering.

“You have to tell me if someone’s coming,” Hoseok whispers. The back of his head stutters and thuds against the bathroom door when he lets his head fall back.

“Won’t you hear them?”

“I can’t—” Hoseok inhales sharply when Jimin flicks his wet tongue across the tip of his cock. “I can’t concentrate.”

Suckling the head of Hoseok’s cock, Jimin hums lightly in understanding, though he doesn’t care if someone comes. The door is locked. Even if Hoseok is loud, Jimin won’t find it in him to feel bad. There’s a second bathroom people can use; they aren’t doing anything bad.

This behavior is elementary, vanilla, and amateur. Jimin would love to do worse.

Jimin opens his mouth wider to take more of Hoseok’s cock down his throat, sucking with hollowed cheeks and letting spit bubble at the corners of his mouth. Messy head is neither good nor bad for Jimin, but he loves how vocal Hoseok becomes when he wets his cock, all slick and warm.

“Fuck,” Hoseok moans through a shuddery breath. 

Hoseok’s eyes squeeze shut, and he quickly lifts the hem of his hoodie to keep it out of the way when Jimin begins bobbing his head.

Fully hard, Hoseok’s cock twitches in Jimin’s hand when he pumps the base where he doesn’t reach with his mouth. He could swallow Hoseok whole, but the little golden speckles of future flickering in Jimin’s mind tell him that a little twist of his wrist is going to make Hoseok cum faster. Not that Jimin wants to keep this short, but he’s in a generous mood and doesn’t want to leave Taehyung and Yoongi waiting too long.

“Just, just like that.” Hoseok digs his fingers in Jimin’s silky pink hair using his free hand. He doesn’t push; he just scratches his nails against Jimin’s scalp as tingling encouragement.

Taking more of Hoseok into his mouth, Jimin maintains a consistent pace. His lips redden and swell, getting hot and spit-slicked as they stretch around Hoseok’s cock. He licks the underside and hums in satisfaction when Hoseok’s hips stutter.

It’s hard and fast how Jimin works his cock while Hoseok does his best to keep his back plastered to the bathroom door and his heart-shaped mouth shut. Little whimpers escape his pretty lips, but he’s always been vocal. It’s one of Jimin’s favorite things about him.

“Jimin,” Hoseok whispers, a warning Jimin doesn’t need.

Putting a bit of pressure on Hoseok’s balls as he holds his cock, Jimin lightly squeezes them, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin. That, combined with the ruthless pace of Jimin swallowing Hoseok’s cock, finally has Hoseok shaking under him.

“Shit shit shit.”

It hurts how hard Hoseok pulls his hair, but Jimin doesn’t care. Jimin keeps his gray eyes locked on Hoseok as he cums, pulling back far enough to let his cum spurt on his tongue. If it were another day and another place, Hoseok would lean back a bit further.

“Good?” Jimin asks sweetly after showing Hoseok that he has swallowed.

Hoseok nods weakly and finally uncurls his fingers from Jimin’s hair. It’s mechanical, as though his body isn’t yet his own, his orgasm temporarily stealing his autonomy from him.

With Hoseok’s help, Jimin rises to his feet. His knees ache from kneeling on the hard concrete floor, and the denim is dusty. Jimin would like to think he has a little more class than getting on his knees in a dingy bar bathroom, but when it comes to Hoseok, he’s willing to make compromises.

Jimin is hard, too. Hoseok’s eyes drop to the bulge in his jeans, but Jimin presses his fingers against the underside of his chin to lift his head.

I’m fine.

Sometimes, it’s nice not to have to say things out loud.

Sweat makes Hoseok’s blonde bangs stick to his forehead. Jimin brushes the hair from his face and admires the pink glow highlighting his features. For a long time, he thought he’d never find someone to pull those vulnerable, uncomfortable emotions out of him: affection and love.

Hoseok, though? There’s something about him that’s different.

“You know I love you too, right?” Hoseok asks with creeping hands wrapping around Jimin’s waist.

His turn to be shy, Jimin scoffs and turns his cheek to Hoseok when he leans in for a kiss.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm,” Hoseok’s smile is there in the sounds he makes; Jimin doesn’t need to see it. “What are the odds Taehyung and Yoongi will ditch us?”

Sometimes, Jimin wonders if the illness Taehyung had might happen to him, too, though he knows it’s unlikely. Taehyung’s powers are nothing like Jimin’s. Still, Jimin feels something tighten and twist in his chest when he thinks about how good it is to be loved by Hoseok.

“We could go out there and be honest about what we were doing, and they’ll complain but eventually get over it,” Jimin explains, his fingers finding Hoseok’s to intertwine with them at his hips, “Or we pretend like nothing happened, and they’ll be uncomfortable the rest of the night, wondering.”

The smirk that blossoms across Hoseok’s face is prettier than any flower Jimin has ever seen.

“Let’s make them suffer,” Hoseok laughs when Jimin’s eyebrows raise.

“Oh? Is someone playing the villain today?”

Pulling Jimin into a hug, Hoseok nuzzles the side of his neck.

“You’re a bad influence on me, JimJam. But I like it.”

Triumphant, Jimin grabs the back of Hoseok’s head and pulls him into a kiss. Despite the taste of Hoseok on Jimin’s tongue, the kiss is innocent and slow. What Jimin can’t verbalize, he can give Hoseok through his thoughts and actions. For now, that’s all they need.

@jooniesxbby @taegeum @chimmisbae @yoonminkookk

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Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[farfromstrange]

A small update from yours truly—and a little over sharing, so I’m putting it under the cut.

I've been in an awful mindset these past couple of weeks since I was diagnosed with PCOS. I haven’t talked about it yet because it’s hard for me to even think about. But the fatigue and the pain are getting worse again, even with the supplements I’m taking so far, and I wanted to share it with you so you know what’s going on. My doctor referred me to another doctor, but the earliest they could get me in was January. Until then, I have to deal with the symptoms on my own. I honestly thought once I knew what was wrong I’d get better, but learning that chronic illness is actually chronic is a really hard pill to swallow. It’s manageable once you figure shit out, but getting a doctor’s appointment these days and being taken seriously when you can’t stomach birth control is like the Hunger Games. You have to be really fucking insistent when you want to get things done.

I’m still slowly working my way out of my writer’s block, and I'm proud of myself for getting there. I'm trying not to set expectations for myself and just take it one day at a time, which is working so far. I think I’m writing more consciously now, too. As someone who needs to create because she has too many thoughts it can get frustrating to burn out so quickly, but at least I’m starting to have fun with writing again (thanks to the DDBA trailer I’m still not over and it’s been idk how long you guys feel me).

On a slightly better note though, and the reason I’m writing this is that I’ve been spending the past two weeks since my last post preparing for vacation. I’m flying to Croatia on Sunday for a few days, which I very much need after the year I’ve had so far. I’m taking the time to recharge before I have another module exam at the end of September. So, I probably won’t be posting a lot the next two weeks, BUT I am writing. I just don’t have enough time to edit anything to the point I can comfortably post it. I will, however, use the time I have to catch up on some reading and do some reblogging. It’s a good use of my flight time, plus my parents will be driving back so I’ll have twelve hours to kill in the car. And who knows, maybe I can finish at least one update before I have to head to the airport. Just wanted to let you know that I’m not gone again, I just really need that vacation before I have my last exam this semester. After that, I have almost three weeks of nothing, which means I'll be able to focus on myself, my health, and my writing.

I’m also writing this to tell you guys I will definitely be participating in Kinktober again this year, though I decided to put a little twist to it. Last year was fun, but I want to do it a little differently this time. I’m currently working something out, and the announcement will come sometime in the next couple of weeks!

Maybe a different climate will give me some more writing inspiration, too. Thank you guys for reading this far. Take care of yourselves 🤍

[mrsshabana]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 ˚˳♡

I wanted to thank everyone who read our kinktober this year! And I also wanted to thank @gyusimp for doing kinkober with me! She did such an amazing job and she really helped me rediscover my love for writing.

Here are my top 5 favorite entries I did for kinktober -♡

𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐕𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

I am so proud of both of us for writing and posting every day just as we said we would. Because honestly, I didn't think I'd be able to do it. But I found myself looking forward to writing every day and it really became the highlight of my days. Doing kinktober really helped me realize how happy writing makes me. And it showed me just how much I'm capable of writing! I literally wrote over 27,000 words for kinktober!

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed kinktober! Feel free to let me know which ones were your favorite, if you'd like to see a sequel, or if you have any questions about the au's! I love them all so much so I don't mind expanding on them!

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭?

Since I put everything on pause for kinktober, I will be getting back to the projects I was working on.

I had a big follower milestone project I've been working on for awhile, but it's been taking so long that now I'm way past the milestone haha. But that's ok, I'm still going to try to finish it! This project will be the main thing I will be working on now.

But for my writing, I have some requests I started before kinktober that I'd like to finish. And the next fic I will be updating will be the band au. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to finish, but I promise I haven't abandoned it. Your biggest fan will be the next fic that I update. ༉‧₊˚

[munsons-melody]

eddie's death

summary: you were there with him in the upside down when the demobats attacked, leaving you to witness the death of the love of your life, eddie

pairing: eddie munson x female!henderson!reader

cw: death

recommended song: featured audio clip / lovely by billie eilish & khalid

word count: 1.7k

a/n: my goal was to make someone cry if they read this but it backfired on me bc i sobbed writing this. also i made this audio myself so pls no reposting it to any other site w/o my permission

masterlist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

-

you never meant for it to happen. you never meant for your boyfriend to get wrapped up in all of this but here you were, trying to defeat some evil creature of an alternate dimension together in hopes to save the world

you had just finished hearing your boyfriend play the famous chords of Master of Puppets.

the song you heard him listen to for hours on end after it came out, the song you would hear him strum on his guitar while you were sitting in his bed admiring how well he played, and unbeknownst to you, the song that was going to serve as his last performance

“most metal ever!” dustin and eddie screamed as they came back into eddie's trailer

"i'm so proud of you!" you squeal, giving him a giant hug and a kiss on the cheek

you were so proud that this plan was going smoothly so far...

oh how you wish you would've known

but the clang of metal above you continued to drum fear into your heart as the demo bats started to rain down onto Eddie's trailer

everyone knew the plan. everyone knew not to stray away from the plan, and god you wished eddie would've too

after helping dustin back through the gate into hawkins, Eddie went to lift you up when he suddenly stopped you and looked you dead in the eye,

"here," he said, handing you his guitar pick necklace, and you looked taken aback 

"but why?" you ask and he gave a small smile before your eyebrows started to furrow, realising what he was insinuating 

"god, eddie no, nothing will happen to you, i promise" you tried to reason but he didn't want to hear it

“i love you y/n, but please forgive me” he said, before shoving the necklace into your hand and hoisting you up through the air causing you to fall through the gate and land on your back on the mattress

the mattress from his bed where you spent many nights with him, laughing, smiling, kissing...

now you laid on it, watching the him act on a deadly heroic deed in order to save a town that hated him

“eddie!” you scream with confusion. you hoped he’d hear you and follow you back to where it was safe, that the conversation you just had was nothing more than an anxious thought, but that was proven untrue when you looked back up at the gate

he looks at you and dustin one last time before cutting the makeshift rope of sheets

“eddie no!” you scream again as your hand stretched out in a last ditch effort to somehow stop the events of your worst nightmare unfolding

“shit shit shit what is he doing?” dustin yells, and you look at him, pure fear and adrenaline coursing through your veins 

"chairs" is all you manage to say before quickly grabbing the one next to the table and setting it up under the gate. the chairs weren't tall enough to reach the gate, so you quickly jump down, running to the side table next to the couch, stacking the chair on top 

"once you get up you jump through" you told him. your mind was racing, there was no other thought occurring besides eddie 

dustin quickly climbed up and did his best to jump through the gate when you heard a thud and a loud crack

seconds later, dustin was screaming out in agony when it clicked what had happen 

"dustin!" you yell, climbing up the same table and chair he just did

you use all your strength left to jump into the gate, flipping down onto the mattress next to a screaming dustin 

"oh my god!" you scream, helping dustin sit up 

"jesus christ!" he sobbed out, but neither of you focused on his injury for long, both knowing the high stakes of eddie being out there all alone

"can you stand?" you ask him and he shook his head

your arm went under his in attempts to help him stand, not helping much but giving him some form of movement to head out of the trailer with 

you heard a crash and scream from outside the trailer, the scream sounded like Eddie and you hoped and prayed there was a god out there to help keep him safe, that it wasn't him screaming, somehow he was fighting off every bat, not attaining any injuries

when you heard the loud noise, dustin and you looked at each other in fear, and you both scrambled to get out of the trailer, when the second you went out the door and caught sight of eddie,your heart dropped as your blood ran cold

you helped dustin run over to eddie, the two of you collapsing next to him

"eddie jesus you need to go a hospital right now" you say, trying to pick him up

"help me!" you scream at dustin, long forgetting about his fresh injury that happened moments before

the two of you try and help him up, but he's struggling to do anything by lie there on the ground 

"wait no just give me a minute" he snapped and you laid him gently back onto the ground, lifting his head up onto your lap for support

"i didn't run away this time, right?" he started and you knew what was happening, it all clicked.

your boyfriend was dying in your arms.

"shh, eddie, you're going to be okay i promise" you reason, trying to wipe the blood off of his face 

"you're going to be okay and we're going to get you to a doctor and soon you'll be right back to normal" you continued, starting to sob

"and I'm going to graduate right?" he asked with a struggling smile, his breathing getting more choppy as he tried to remain calm 

"i think it's my year henderson" he said, reaching a hand up to wipe your tears that seemed to flow like river. even when dying, he always wanted to make sure your tears were dry, one of the many selfless acts of the man you love.

but it didn't stop the tears, if anything just watching him act that way on his deathbed reminded you again why you loved eddie munson 

"i think it's finally my year" he spit out, the two of you both struggling to breathe. 

"it's your year and you're going to do so many great things" you tell him, gripping his hand tight 

"i love you man," he tells dustin, who's just as teary eyed as you

"i love you too eddie" dustin sobs out as he tried to stop the bleeding 

"y/n" he croaked out", and you looked at him as best you could with your blurry teared vision 

"yes eddie?" you ask in attempts to breathe but nothing seemed to slow down your heart which you believed would burst at any minute 

"remember that day in the cafeteria? when you and i first met?" he asked, and you nodded intently. it was the best day of your life. it didn't matter that he ruined your favorite sweater when he accidentally ran into you, spilling your lunch everywhere, because the second you locked eyes, you knew you needed him in your life one way or another 

and low and behold that's what occurred through date nights at the hideout watching him and his band play, late night picnics at lovers lake, helping him create campaigns for hellfire even though you were completely lost on everything going on in DnD, the times he snuck into your bedroom window late at night to comfort you after calling him at 3 am from a bad dream, the countless times you rewatched your favorite movie just because he wanted to hear you say all the lines you knew by heart, the early mornings in his trailer watching the sunset and seeing wayne get home from work...

"of course" you say, nodding to him

"that was the most important moment of my life, cause that was the moment i fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world" he stuttered out, breathing even more shallow than it was before 

"oh eddie" you manage to mutter out, your breathing erratic, sobs flying out of your body

you stare at him intently, waiting for him to mutter out another word to give you some sense of hope that he was still with you but when he failed to say another word you felt your entire earth shatter around you 

you screamed. 

the scream you let out was one of terror and heartbreak, almost like something out of a movie.

your throat was sore, your face was numb, and your vision was completely blocked by the tears

the screams continued. it was the only thing soothing the worst pain you've ever felt in your entire life 

and you stayed like that for what seemed like hours, holding onto eddie for dear life, praying you'd feel his chest move or see his eyes blink but nothing happened

all you could hear was tour own screaming. your own sobbing. 

the only thing you could feel was the numbness in your body soon taking over.

you didn't even hear when steve, robin, and nancy returned to the trailer to see you sobbing over eddie's body.

you didn't hear the gasp nancy let out, the cries robin had, or the stomping of steve's boots coming up behind you 

"y/n we need to leave" steve said with urgency, but you couldn't move. you wouldn't move.

"y/n please we have to go" steve yelled, starting to wrap his arms around you in efforts to pull you away but you didn't move

it took all of steve and robin to pull you off of him, but even when you couldn't feel eddie's body in your arms, it seemed like your whole body shut down

steve immediately picked you up and held you bridal style back into eddie's trailer to where the gate was

but you didn't care

your body was frozen. you would've been fine if they had all gone through the gate and left you there. 

you stared at the ceiling, wanting some form of thought to occur other than the one you were trying to process, the one you just lived, the one you'll keep reliving.

nancy and robin took to create another makeshift rope to replace the one eddie had cut and within minutes, you were thrown back into what the others considered the 'normal world '

but to you, it was purgatory.

fin. 

[inkedobsidian]

~ Maybe I am - D.O ~

summary: Dylan accompanies Y/N to her high school reunion.

pairing: Dylan O'Brien x Reader

warnings: none!

word count: 1,461

a/n: Requests are open! Prompt list is there if you guys want extra ideas!

Master-List - Prompts

"Y/N you can't just not go to your high school reunion, it's been 5 years what about all the friends you had that you miss?" Dylan asks as he's laid down on the couch in Y/N 's trailer in between shoots. Even though he's not looking at her he can tell she's glaring at him considering they'd been best friends since the start of the show in 2011. As he turns his body to sit up Y/N remained to glare at him with one eyebrow raised.

"I can not go to a high school reunion." She says shaking her head and looking back at her computer trying to ignore the nagging Dylan who is judging her from a distance.

"Why not? You're in a TV show and I'm your best friend so you're clearly going to rock it." The more Dylan nags the more Y/N realizes she could go but at the same, she would probably rather die than see anyone she went to school with.

"No, you don't understand I wasn't popular, in the slightest. I was the weird loner who wore superhero shirts every day and was part of the drama club and always swore she was going to be an actress. Stereotypical weirdo loner. Not like cute season 1 Stiles where the popular girl doesn't notice me but is still cute. The people at my school were the worst and that will not have changed." Y/N says laughing as she finishes her mini-rant. As she stops ranting she looks up at Dylan who is still smirking at the fact she called him cute. As soon as Y/N realized why Dylan was smirking she grabbed the pillow that she was resting on and threw it at his face hitting him in his nose.

"I'll go if you go," Y/N announces shocking Dylan with her proposal. Although he's taken aback by the ask he's also glad that out of everyone she wants him to be there.

"I didn't go to that high school wh-"

"Just pretend to be my date," Y/N asks with a smile which makes Dylan laugh at the sight off. He knows he's gonna say yes because why not meet some of her old friends? If she had any?

2 days had passed and Y/N was currently stood in her old bedroom in front of a full-length mirror as she slightly shakes with anxiety at the thought of being back in her old school again. The dress she wore she kept from one of the parties Holland had dragged her too so obviously the dress was fabulous. The invitation didn't really state HOW to dress but Y/N remembers the people she used to be in school with so she chose a black, off the shoulder, a thigh-high dress that stuck to all of her curves. The black 4" ankles boots complimented the figure and made her legs look slimmer and she put the final touches of her hair and makeup together.

The closer the time got to need to be there the weaker her legs felt, although Hollywood is scary nothing will ever compare to high school, and being back there makes her so afraid. As she finally walked into the living room everyone stopped to stare. Her mom looked at her with wide eyes and a proud smile. Her father just looked at his little girl adoringly knowing how afraid she was. Dylan couldn't do anything but smile, he's seen her at premieres and red carpets but he always had the same reaction. It was like he was seeing her for the first time every time and he was happy that she was his best friend.

"Okay, can we just leave now I'm starting to freak out?" Y/N laughs with her voice shaking. Dylan just mutters a yeah sure and stands up leaving the door open for Y/N.

"I'll have her back by 10, Miss (L/N)!" Dylan yells out from the car.

"Dylan you've known me for 5 years call me (Mom's name)!" Your mom yells back laughing at his reply.

The closer they got to the high school the more people Y/N started to recognize. As she rubs her hands together there are no words to describe her fears right now. Pulling into the parking lot made everything a lot worse more than she could describe. All Dylan did was hold her hand and give it a quick squeeze before stepping out of the car and walking around to Y/N's side to let her out of the car, or help her out he should say.

The pair just walked in silence inside the school but Dylan kept his hand intertwined with Y/N considering he had no idea where to actually go. He also couldn't deny that he loved holding hands with Y/N whether it was on or offset. The streamers lined the hallway and there were already people dotting the hallways next to what Dylan assumed to be their old lockers. They noticed Y/N and Dylan hand in hand and some stopped to even see if they knew who she was because they couldn't recognize her at first glance.

The hallway made it so much more surreal as there was a table full of pins with all the names on and sat at the table was the valedictorian smiling brightly.

"Hi, how can I help you today?!" She gleamed as Y/N just quietly searched through the names. She picked up the one with her name on it and just showed it to the girl while smiling.

"Oh my god Y/N! I thought you were in LA, I didn't expect you to answer my email!" She says standing up and hugging a shocked Y/N.

"Thank Emily I'm here so… I'm gonna get a drink. This is my plus one, his name is Dylan." Y/N says rather quietly before just walking away leaving Dylan to get his own name tag. As she stood with her back to the hall she just drank away at the punch hoping that someone somewhere had spiked the punch. Luckily enough someone had and she could tell. However, she was not drunk enough for what was about to happen. She turned around to see Dylan talking to some of the old jocks in her year, knowing that the Mets were a big supported team in this high school. Hearing him laugh made her smile widely looking at how happy he looks all dressed up. Then the moment arrived where she wished she'd been more intoxicated

"Y/N?" A male voice spoke behind her. As she slowly spun around recognizing the voice from behind her. She came face to face with her ex (Ex's name/ or crush). Trying to smile like she was happy to see him her entire body went stiff when he hugged her. However, she quickly loosened up when she did not react, no butterflies. Nothing.

"I'm happy to see you, it's been 5 years. How're you doing?" He asks smiling. There was never anything bad you could say about him because he always cared for Y/N. First love, kindest teenager ever. Even understood when she broke up with him before she left for Teen wolf.

"I'm great (Ex). I'm really glad to see you, you're doing well." Y/N smiles now knowing she's okay to talk without any awkward feelings in the way.

"Well it's been 5 years, I've now got a girlfriend who is actually here talking to…. the person you walked in with actually." He smiles. Y/N turned around to see Dylan talking to a lovely short blonde woman who is staring at (ex) with loving eyes as she's talking.

"Yeah that's Dylan, he's my costar on Teen Wolf, I've known him for 5 years now." Y/N smiles while looking off at Dylan who catches her eye and smiles at her from a distance.

"And you're in love with him." (Ex) chuckles while Y/N's head snaps back to his direction with wide eyes, "Don't try and deny you at least like him I can tell."

"How can you tell I've been talking to you for less than 5 minutes." Y/N seems almost defensive knowing that he's right no matter how much she says he's not.

"Because of the way you look at him, even from across the room. It was the way you used to look at me." (Ex) says not condescending but more as he cares for Y/N still, which he does. Y/N doesn't know what to say so she just looks towards Dylan as he's smiling and laughing. Dylan looks towards Y/N one more time and catches her looking at him and he smiles back at her waving slightly. The moment passed and Y/N finally realized he was telling the truth.

"Yeah… Maybe I am."

[jemshopes]

Missing Memories || Namjin

--Namjin memory loss AU

Namjoon and Seokjin have been best friends since high school, have attended the same university and spent three years living together afterwards, only getting their own apartments two years ago when Namjoon got into a serious relationship. The relationship ended five months ago and Namjoon has been a bit of a mess since then, has stayed over at Seokjin's apartment most nights and let Seokjin make him laugh and let Seokjin hold him when he cries and let Seokjin tell him how his ex-boyfriend sucked and Namjoon deserves so much better. 

They're tipsy and it's late at night when Seokjin tells Namjoon that he's in love with him. It's the wrong moment to say something like that. Namjoon is still mourning his last relationship. He has no words to respond and he's drunk and he doesn't know what else to do but leave to try and process his emotions alone. Seokjin's decision to tell him at that moment in time was the wrong one, but Namjoon's decision to leave is also wrong. If he had stayed then he wouldn't have gotten a call saying Seokjin was in the hospital because he had been hit by a car less than two blocks from Namjoon's apartment. Namjoon wouldn't be sitting beside his hospital bed right now, staring at his friend's bruised and battered face, realising he may very well be in love with Seokjin too.

But when Seokjin wakes up the last five years have been wiped from his memories. He wakes up laughing about how the car crash has messed up their plans to travel once university is over, and Namjoon has to tell him they already went travelling. It's been years since they travelled together. It already happened. And university is long over. 

It shakes both of their worlds, Seokjin's memory loss. The doctor's say they're not sure if Seokjin's memories will come back. It will take time and patience and most of all support. If it doesn't distress Seokjin too much, Namjoon should talk to him about things they've done together, memories of times Seokjin no longer remembers. But ultimately all that anyone can do is wait and hope they return. 

Namjoon moves into Seokjin's apartment with him. Not officially, at first, but after several months he decides it's for the best. Seokjin is struggling to work—emotionally. He's working with people who have known him for years and yet he doesn't remember them. Everyone looks at him strangely now, treats him strangely. He hates it. He's living in an apartment he doesn't remember renting or living in. Seokjin doesn't remember finishing his degree. He doesn't remember confessing to Namjoon. He doesn't even remember coming out to Namjoon three years prior. The thought hadn't even crossed Namjoon's mind that Seokjin wouldn't remember coming out to Namjoon until Seokjin approaches him one day and shows him a picture they had taken together that Namjoon had posted on social media. He had captioned it, "two gays spotted in the wild." 

"Did I... did I... tell you?" Seokjin asks quietly. There are tears in his eyes. 

Namjoon nods. He moves over on the couch to let Seokjin sit down. "About three years ago, yeah. I... I didn't even think... you'd forget--I love you. I'm proud of you for telling me. N-now and then."

"Did we date?"

"No. Why?"

"I... I don't know."

There are many things he tells Seokjin. All his favourite memories. He tells him about their terrible time travelling, how they had planned to travel the world for a year after university, but had given up after just three months when they both got atrocious food poisoning in Thailand. They go through what feels like a hundred photographs and videos taken over the years. None of it brings anything back for Seokjin. 

Months pass and Namjoon wants to ask Seokjin if Seokjin has feelings for him, but he's afraid Seokjin's feelings developed somewhere in the five years Seokjin no longer remembers. When asked for advice, Yoongi had told Namjoon it would be best not to ask Seokjin such a loaded question at the moment. Seokjin needs Namjoon's friendship and if Seokjin doesn't remember developing feelings for Namjoon, asking him about it will only make things awkward between them. Give it time. Let Seokjin work out his life again first. 

Jimin had rolled his eyes at this. "Maybe he should just kiss him? Worked for me, didn't it?" 

"You're not helping,'' Yoongi had said, shooing his fiance out of the room. 

Namjoon believes Yoongi's advice is correct, but it's hard sometimes when he's close to Seokjin, not to just give in and take Jimin's. Sometimes all he wants to do when he sees Seokjin smile is kiss him. Even more than that he wants Seokjin to get his memories back. 

Seokjin asks tentatively after six months if Namjoon will go travelling with him again. Seokjin thinks maybe visiting some places where they've already been might help jog his memory. If not it could be the start of creating new memories together. 

Namjoon agrees without hesitation. 

And they travel. They go to Thailand. To Japan. To Germany. Nothing jogs Seokjin's memory, though. By the time they reach France Seokjin has become despondent and so has Namjoon. 

"I think I'm going to give up," Seokjin says to him one evening while they're sitting on the balcony of their hotel room. "I don't want to keep chasing memories I might never get back. I've lost five years of my life. I'd like to live instead of wasting more time on this." 

It upsets Namjoon greatly to hear this. There are so many good times he's had with Seokjin that are only his now. He wants Seokjin to remember their inside jokes and some of the best nights of Namjoon's life. He wants him to remember he loved him once. That he told him so. 

He breaks down there on that balcony and tells Seokjin everything about the night of Seokjin's accident. He tells Seokjin he thinks he loves him too. "I don't want to ruin anything. I want to be your friend, so it's okay if you don't love me. But you did at one point and you never told me when you started feeling that way. We never got the chance to be anything because of the accident. I think you were coming to see me that night because I ran away. But I think I love you too. Or I just love you if you don't love me." 

Seokjin doesn't say anything for a long time after this. He sits quite still and looks down at the streets of Paris. Then he says, "I think I must have fallen in love with you in the years I can't remember. Because I don't remember when, but... I guess even not remembering it didn't stop it. Ever since I woke up in the hospital I've been so confused, but practically the only thing I haven't been confused about is how I feel about you. I think I love you too. That's why I asked if we ever dated because I... I felt things and it didn't make sense..."

"You still loved me even though you didn't remember...?" Namjoon asks faintly.

Seokjin nods, his ears turning red. "Yeah. I did. I do. I... I love you." 

"Th-then I love you too."