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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

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Introductory prologue. The main pairing will be established ironstrange x reader. This story will be rated explicit, have some canon-typical violence and language. The 'fuck' harvest is bountiful this time of the year. Updates - irregular so far, I'm posting it as I go.

No y/n, no "you", no name - nickname only, no reader description - race/age/body type neutral, she/her pronouns. Please leave a comment if you spot a stray 'blushing' or the likes, I write as it flows and sometimes miss those words when I proofread. I try to be inclusive of all my readers.

"Your total is twelve dollars, seventeen cents," I rattled off on autopilot, casting a glance at the cash register and plastering an automatic smile onto my face. The pleasant expression was frozen on it, stuck like glue, despite the news I had received earlier in the day. "Thank you, have a nice day," I doubted the customer actually heard my words.

One of those business-types, wearing a tailored two-piece, with a Bluetooth headset attached to their ear and brain always a mile away, our little coffee shop a mild interruption in their daily routine of making more and more money. "Hello, how can I help you?" I addressed the next customer, my eyes unseeing, gliding over their face and to the storefront where I noticed we were running low on eclairs and carrot cake.

"Hey, Starlight," the woman's voice was familiar, tone soothing, as I snapped my eyes to meet a pair of reddish-brown ones, staring at me with concern. "The usual," our city's very own superhero; Wanda Maximoff stood before me with her head curiously tilted to the side and her brother hovering behind her, examining the assortment of various cakes on display. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I sighed, sending off the organic, single-use cups with scribbles off to Dave, our barista. Wanda's order was large, usually about ten or twelve coffees and quite a few treats, so I donned on some nitrile gloves to package the treats while Dave handled the drinks with practiced ease. I admired his stoicism. "Might be seeing a bit less of me," the woman's eyebrows rose in displeasure at my admission.

"Tony won't be happy," Wanda mumbled, side-eyeing the backdoor behind which my boss usually resided during the day. "You got fired?" The words attracted the attention of her brother. Pietro was immediately at her side, joining into the concerned staring.

"Nope," I popped the 'p', methodically shoving the food in its packaging. "The café is expanding hours and our shifts are being split now. Jeremy is dead set on me working the graveyard shift, so I'll be here six AM to two PM," I couldn't help the sigh that left my lips.

My boss, Jeremy, had opened his boulangerie little over two years ago, and as he had predicted, it set off almost immediately. The place was located almost in the heart of the dozen corporate sky-rises full of busy, wealthy people who liked their things to be both instant and luxurious. Jeremy had fit right in with the law sharks and business vultures, if you ask me, with his penchant for demanding the impossible.

I was expecting an increase in work hours, I wasn't going to lie - our little cafe was busy nearly all the time it was open - but the fact that he chose to split a day's shift came as a punch to the gut. Like most service staff, I made most of my money from the tips, and they and they only were the only reason I stayed in a place with a shrew for a boss and the worst health insurance in the area. Thankfully, the rich businessmen from local offices didn't count their money and left me more than generous tips.

The coffee machine beeped for the last time as Dave passed me the three cupholders before I carefully bagged them, arranging the treats on top. I saw Wanda lick her lips at the aromas coming from the paper bag before Pietro snatched them out of my grasp. I rattled off the total, catching Wanda's eye as she passed me several twenty dollar bills, waving off my attempt to return the change.

"Penny for your wandering thoughts?" She smiled warmly as I chuckled at the question I've grown to expect with a quiet sort of joy.

The first time she'd wandered in, soaking wet from the rain and looking as lost as a child in a mall, ten minutes before closing time, I was reading my book right at the counter as I waited for the coffee machine to clean itself. I hadn't even noticed the quiet woman until her words startled me out of the book-induced trance and I shamefully had to ask her to repeat herself, hastily shoving my book under the counter. She smiled at me, shyly, and asked me about my reading instead of rattling an order for one of the sickly sweet caffeine concoctions female customers seemed to love. And she returned in a few days, asking the same question after taking a careful look at my face.

"And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about." I took a careful moment to recall a paragraph from the book I was currently reading, Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It seemed fitting, with all that had been going on in my life recently. I was still caught in the middle of the storm, unsure if I'd make it out but hoping for it nonetheless.

"That's beautiful," Pietro smiled at me, the tips of his silver hair reflecting the lights of the cafe's baroque style chandeliers. I barely managed to smile at him as he was already speeding off, the entrance door banging shut behind a blur of white and blue. Each time he did that, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to not spill any of the hot beverages.

"Because it's true," Wanda added with a comforting smile. I nodded in agreement, hoping some of her positive attitude would dissipate the sense of doom I'd been lugging around all day. She departed, taking the sense of comfort with her, as I caught the tail end of something shouted in Sokovian - something that sounded exactly in place, coming from one disgruntled sibling to another.

When the residents of the nearby Stark tower began frequenting my workplace, I barely had the composure to stifle my quiet fangirling to socially acceptable levels. Not long after the Scarlet Witch turned a semi-regular, she started bringing her colleagues with her - Hawkeye at first, who was a decent, normal dude; he looked like an exasperated dad and Pietro appeared every thing the rambunctious son, as the younger man peppered the older man with questions about the cakes on our display.

They all had fancy names, but at the bottom of it, a chocolate cake was a chocolate cake. That much I told them, with a snort, earning myself a lopsided grin and a generous tip as I patiently listed off the more commonly used, simplified designations for the twins as the knowledge of them being European immigrants crossed my mind.

After Hawkeye came the Black Widow, and then Captain America with a sunny smile and his moody boyfriend in tow. While Bucky Barnes' expression was generally sour, the man had a wicked sweet tooth, shoveling frosted, glazed treats at the rate of a competitive eater. Both men were extremely polite if not very chatty and tipped well.

Tony Stark himself - well, he was a special one. His sense of humour trailed on the fine line of obscene, oftentimes raising the eyebrows of nearby people standing in line. I wasn't born yesterday, either: years of customer service work left me with little-to-no surprise regarding overzealous men and I could quip back equally as sharply, just slightly south of Tony's own jokes. He never overstepped, however, and with time, I developed a quiet appreciation for our small talks.

Which did brighten up my day, if only a little. "A little birdy told me your boss is being a douchebag. Want me to clean up that muck?" Tony was, as usual, wearing a bespoke suit and sunglasses, which he'd pushed up to his forehead as he frivolously leaned on the counter after placing his order.

I sighed, remembering Wanda's words. I didn't know what to expect from the eccentric billionaire; last of all, I didn't want any handouts. I'd started a search for a second part-time job the very day I got told my pay would be essentially cut in half. "No need, Mr. Stark, I'm gonna be fine and dandy," I replied with a smile that I was sure didn't really reach my eyes. "We'll still be able to resume our nice chit-chat at brunch on Saturdays," I winked, hoping to keep up the usual light atmosphere of our banter.

"I told you to call me Tony!" He exclaimed, like always, shaking his head and glaring at the back door. "Yeah, no," the man had absolutely no chill. "I'll still sic the IRS on him," the last part was said quietly. Mr. Stark often spoke to himself.

I laughed at the rich-kid, spoilt way he was acting. A grown man with an attitude of a teenager and a sweet tooth to match one - except for his coffee. That was always the strongest, blackest one we had on hand. I hadn't even heard of a triple espresso until Mr. Stark had waltzed in, skipping the line and filling the air around him with the smells of cologne that smelled like money, motor oil, iron and soot.

The moment I opened my e-mail at home, I felt my gloomy mood worsen, Mr. Stark's words echoing in my head. I'd sent my resumes to two dozen places and only a handful even bothered to reply - all preemptive rejections, there weren't businesses needing a part-time employee with a useless degree, who could only work evenings. Except bars, but they required some sort of certificate for bartenders and lots and lots of bare skin for waitresses. I tried to steer away from that part of the industry as much as I could, saving it as a last resort option.

It had come down to browsing Craigslist as I ate my way through a carton of cheap take-out, too exhausted to cook and too anxious to go out to the nearby bodega after 9 PM. One more negative side of working late shift - making my way home in the dead of the night in NYC and hoping Spider-Man was hanging out nearby should a thug decide on me to be their next victim. The joys of big city life.

As the column of various ads stared at me with various suspicious offers to make quick money, ads for 'young, sociable women' and I stared back at them in muted disgust. The 'looking for a job' section was much more sensible with the few ads I'd clicked on out of curiosity depicting people seemingly in a similar situation as me - short on money but not desperate enough to surrender their dignity to corporate greed. The decision was momentary - I'd started typing and hit the post button before I was through with my food, slapping my old laptop shut as soon as the as posted.

Hopefully, the creeps will stay away. The next couple of days stretched out slowly as I got up at the crack of dawn to open the shop, served the early birds whilst sipping my own matcha latte and clocked out not a second later than 2PM, taking home half the usual amount of tips. My e-mail remained as silent as ever, only a few suspicious replies to my ad, texts that I didn't even bother replying to. Human trafficking and pyramid schemes, was that all that NYC had to offer?

Apparently, not. Around 6PM, my phone dinged as a notification popped up and I scrambled to read it - all too aware of the upcoming rent day, and was pleasantly surprised with the contents of the e-mail, re-reading it several times to make sure there weren't any hidden stones under the water. I replied with my phone number, not expecting it to ring within minutes of hitting the send button.

"Hello?"

"Hi, we just corresponded," the voice on the other side was feminine but slightly rough, as if it's owner spent days chain-smoking. "I would like to invite you for a small interview, if you wouldn't mind."

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Could I ask you some questions first?" The levels of anxiety, I thought, were reasonable in the situation. It mutely gnawed at my chest.

"Sure," the woman agreed amicably. "My name is Odette, by the way," she mentioned off-handedly, the name fitting her voice in a strange way.

"Uh, well," I stammered. "You mentioned it's a herbal medicine shop, you're not selling weed under the counter, are you?" I voiced my worries meekly, hoping for an honest answer.

The woman laughed, a sharp, terse sound. "No, dear, I do not sell or possess anything illegal. I merely offer supplies for the locals that prefer natural, alternative medicine." She sounded jovial.

"Like - um, healing crystals?" I vaguely remembered reading about them on the internet, or seeing them in a YouTube video, perhaps.

"Yes, we sell those, too," her tone grew more joyful at the mention of the shiny rocks. I didn't think that they actually cured anything, to be honest, however I was willing to give it some credit - the placebo effect was a scientific fact. Whatever floats your boat, I guess.

"Okay then," I chuckled nervously. "I'm free tomorrow after 3 PM."

"Grand. The shop is open until 10 PM, just say your name at the counter and I'll be right with you."

As soon as I hung up, relief and curiosity and trepidation blossomed within me, imagination unhelpfully supplying images of human trafficking documentaries, basements with chains and other, less horrifying but still unusual things. The pep talk over a wine glass that I had was necessary: it was a herbal shop, for fuck's sake. Worst case, I'm going to work with Karens who think the Earth is flat and quartz cures cancer. I could even get a funny story or two out of those, something to share with Bucky or Wanda in lieu of the usual book quotes I entertain them with.

The day went by smoothly, the café no more and no less busy than usual so after a brief detour back home to put on something that didn't smell like coffee grounds and yeast: comfortable pants and a soft sweater, something that would keep me warm but would not unnecessarily restrict any movement. My good luck charm, a large oval necklace with a shiny gold star in the middle, hung heavily around my neck, providing quiet comfort.

Heart thudding in my chest, I approached the old-style, inconspicuous building, double-checking the address before opening the old, heavy wooden door right at the corner of the building. It was like a movie scene, in a way - the day was overcast, meager sun rays shining through the lead curtain of clouds, the streets were clear and few honks rung out in the far end of block, sending a flock of pigeons into a lazy scatter over the slanted roof. The door creaked softly, the handle cold under my touch, instantly filling my nose with a strong smell of herbs so plentiful, I could not distinguish one from another.

Inside didn't look any less intriguing: the décor was outdated but somehow fitting and homely, high wooden shelves stocked with glass jars and wooden boxes with neatly placed labels on them. The counter was empty - save for a large, golden bell, which I timidly pressed.

The woman who emerged from behind the worn cotton curtains behind the counter most certainly was impressive. Tall and broad, with dark eyebrows and even darker eyes, she critically surveyed me for a moment, making me shiver under her gaze - and then she smiled, revealing rows of pearly white teeth and instantaneously losing the imposing aura around her.

"Um, hi- I'm-" I didn't get to finish my nervous stammering.

She interrupted me with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the interview. Yes. Welcome, Star," her eyes briefly fell on my necklace while I struggled to swallow the unease.

I hadn't told her my nickname - to be honest, these days, I heard it more often than my given name. People quickly took notice of my love of star-patterned items and teased me relentlessly over it, losing heat only when I calmly went along with it, too used to hearing the same jokes since my early childhood.

Odette motioned me over, parting the curtains to reveal a tiny, but tastefully decorated hall with two doors on each side and a staircase at the far end of it. I followed her into the room on the left, which turned out to be a peculiar sort of office. I thought I noticed an Ouija board in there but wisely kept my mouth shut.

"I live on the floor above the shop so don't go throwing any parties while you're on the job," she remarked playfully, gesturing to a pot of tea. "It's peppermint, does wonders for calming one's demeanor," the gesture was sweet - and very telling.

I wondered if I looked as spooked as I felt. After all, it didn't seem like Odette and her business were fishy in any way, and the décor and atmosphere were quite... Appealing, in a way. Something magical, something belonging in Europe or on a high schooler's Pinterest board. I sipped my tea in-between questions, thinking how maybe, I could actually grow accustomed to this place.

The shopkeeper acted as if I'd already accepted the job and I - well, it's not like I had any other options waiting for me. The pay was more than I expected it to be, for such a small bodega and a part-time shift, and it would help me cover my bills with enough to spare. The customers were said to be mostly regular and undemanding, with a few rare exceptions, and should I need assistance, the owner was always a call and a floor away.

With a considerably lighter heart, I left to pad the damp sidewalk back towards my house. Thankfully, my new workplace was only a short walk away.

The tag list is open until the story is finished. Please use the 'taglist' Google form to request (top of the fic, clickable link).

@mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #ironstrange x reader #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark fanfiction #stephen strange fanfiction

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leiasfanaccount648 · 4 years

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I’m So Sorry

Keigo Takami [Hawks] x Fem!Reader

Request from Anon: Hello i am new to your account, and i think it's great. Im a hawks simp so you might get more requests of him if thats okay lol. Uhm can my first request be a hawks x fem reader angst, if you write that and uh can it be an imagine where he gets mad at her and ends up hurting her, angst with happy ending? .i hope that is okay but its up to u. Thank youuu!!

A/N: Thank you again so much for your request! I hope you don’t mind, but I did change this up a little bit. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings/Contains: Angst, this takes place during/after the last two episodes of season 4 so slight manga spoilers? (I haven’t read much so this is mostly just hypothetical speculation from what I have read), cursing, argument, reader being shoved by Keigo.

Word Count: 2031

He knew it was risky, but then again, what else was he supposed to do? He had no other option. He had to be careful on how he went about this, as anyone could be watching or listening. Hell, for all he knew someone already knew of what he was planning to do or already done and was waiting for the perfect moment to chance to blackmail him.

However, he couldn’t think of that right now. He had to focus on what his plans were. If one thing went wrong or was out of place, it could sabotage everything.

“Keigo?”

The winged man flinched slightly as he heard his name being called out so suddenly. He had been so lost in thought that he had stopped eating the dinner that his girlfriend prepared for him. Keigo looked up at her, blinking to get rid of any possible look he had in his eyes that could worry her.

“Hm? What is it, baby?”

“Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there.”

(Y/N) let out a chuckle, finding it a little funny how her boyfriend would sometimes focus on the smallest things. She didn’t find it out of the ordinary, but she did find it odd that something other than herself managed to tear Keigo away from the precious chicken parmesan you made him. As he replied to her, part of her began to take notice how out of place he seemed to be every now and then over the last few weeks; this was just the first time she had taken the time to ask him about it.

“Oh,” Keigo laughed along with her, nodding his head. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just thinking about work is all.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” (Y/N) took a bite from the food on her plate, her tone being very easy going as it was obvious to her boyfriend that he didn’t have to tell her, but she was still there to listen if he needed her. At the same time, she wanted to know in case something was seriously wrong. He was a pro hero after all, and that job comes with many risks.

“No, it’s alright. A certain case has just been in my mind after hearing about it today.” Keigo took a bite of the chicken, humming in satisfaction at the taste. He swore he would never get tired of his girlfriend’s cooking. “Dinner’s great, by the way. Thank you for making it.” He smiled, knowing that he changed the subject smoothly enough to make both of them move on from the previous topic.

(Y/N) proceeded to thank him, going on to say that she had to run to the store at the last minute to get an ingredient that they didn’t have in the kitchen. Of course, Keigo’s thoughts remained elsewhere while his eyes were trained on the one he loved.

The next morning, Keigo had gotten up a little bit earlier than usual before leaving for work. Granted, he did have to make a stop first before the hero rankings happened later that day.

Keigo had arrived at the warehouse first, looking around the building to make sure no one could possibly see him before walking inside.

“About time you got here.”

Keigo had barely taken 3 steps inside before he heard the voice. Even if he had expected it, he still pulled out one of his longest and sharpest feathers and pointed it in the direction he heard it in. He kept the hard glare on his face as he stared at the man. “You should be more careful about keeping yourself out of sight, Dabi.”

The man chuckled, obviously sarcastic as he shrugged his shoulders while his hands rested in his pockets. “Please, if anyone else stumbled across this place I would have taken care of them without you even knowing.” He smirked slightly, almost making Keigo question whether or not Dabi really had done that before he arrived.

Either way, he rolled his eyes and lowered the feather in his hand. They had work to do soon that could not be treated nicely. “Let’s just finalize the details and get this over and done with, shall we?”

~ ~ ~

Keigo smiled to himself, proud of the fact that he managed to bring Endeavor to his hometown of Fukuoka just like he planned. Now, all that was left to do was seal the deal and wait for everything to go down the next day, or so he had thought.

He and Endeavor were eating lunch to discuss all that was going on when it happened, and part of Keigo was annoyed at himself for thinking that it would happen this way. Nevertheless, he and Endeavor fought the Nomu that Dabi and himself had planned for in hopes that everything would turn out like the plan originally intended to go.

It was a hard fight, one that even he didn’t expect to go the way it did. Of course, he couldn’t focus on that factor for long, as he still had a job to do. Sadly, it fell short as Endeavor had won the battle against the Nomu. Even though he was hoping for the end of Endeavor like Dabi was, he couldn’t help but admire the pro for always trying to get to the number one spot.

Endeavor always kept trying to get there unlike others who simply stood by thinking it was impossible. Keigo strived to be like that too, even if he claimed to want a lower hero ranking. He wanted to be able to create a laidback world so that heroes didn’t have to work so hard all the time, and he would do anything in order to do so. Including killing the man who had inspired him.

While he was upset about the plan not going the way he had hoped, and the fact that Dabi had acted without telling him, Keigo couldn’t help but feel stressed due to the fact that everything he had done in order to pull this off was now a waste. And he had no idea when he would be able to get another chance like this again.

He managed to reason with Dabi so that they could come up with another plan to end the current number one hero later in time, but for now, all he wanted to do was go home and relax in attempt to get rid of the pounding in his head and aches in his body from the fight he had.

The moment Keigo stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him, (Y/N) made her way to the door to greet him, walking faster than usual. She knew that he was okay, as he had called her shortly before meeting with Dabi to let her know, but worry was still written all over her face.

“Keigo,” (Y/N)’s hands raised to her mouth as she noticed that most of his wings were gone after the fight. Even if they would grow back over the course of a couple days, it was still an unusual sight to see from her boyfriend. “Your wings.” She stepped towards him again, reaching out to hold his cheek so he’d look her in the eye.

Instead, Keigo moved her hand away before she could touch him and took off his coat followed by his shoes. “I’m fine, (Y/N).”

The tone in his voice was one (Y/N) knew all too well: stress. “You’re not, and we both know it.”

Keigo didn’t say a word and simply walked past her to the kitchen. He reached into one cabinet and grabbed a glass, then into another to grab a bottle of gin and seltzer water. (Y/N) followed him, choosing her words carefully. “You don’t have to tell me what’s on your mind, whether you do or not. But please tell me how I can help you.”

“You can be quiet, that’s how you can help.”

(Y/N) eyed him, part of her hurt from his words and part of her annoyed. “Excuse me?” “You may say that you can help, but right now, all I need from you is silence and to leave me alone.” Kiego’s back faced her while he spoke, making the cocktail that he decided on. He turned around and took a big sip; he took in the expression she now wore herself.

“What on earth happened to make you start acting like this?” (Y/N) took a step forward, still hoping that she could figure out what was actually going on. There was definitely a reason as to why he acted so different compared to the way he did after a hard day at work, so what caused it?

“What do you want me to say when I come home from work, (Y/N)? That everything was all fine and dandy? No crime happened throughout the city? The district? The country?” He let out a short yet sarcastic laugh. “Well guess what sweetheart? That just isn’t the case, is it?” He took another swig of his drink before setting it down on the counter.

(Y/N) held back from sounding so harsh, becoming more and more ticked off as her boyfriend dodged question after question thrown at him. “Keigo, please,” she stepped forward, reaching out to him again. “Just answer my question so I can help you.”

Keigo eyed her as she got close, her words starting to get to him. He was a hero, so he should be helping other people, not the other way around. But, with his plans in flames from Dabi, the world he was hoping for was now even further out of his reach.

He stepped away to walk out of the kitchen, mumbling under his breath. “I’m going to get a shower.”

(Y/N) trailed after him, putting a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to stop him as Keigo began to step into the hallway. “No, you’re not.” It was then that Keigo would turn to regret everything.

“I told you to leave me alone!”

In less than a second, Keigo turned around to move (Y/N)’s hand off of him, but in the process of doing so, he accidentally put too much strength into his movements and slammed (Y/N) into the cabinets next to her with just his arm.

(Y/N) lost her breath as well as her footing from hitting the wood so hard and fell to the floor. She hesitantly looked up at her boyfriend, seeing as he was now glaring harsher at her with his teeth slightly bared. She could almost feel the anger now radiating off of him, and she was terrified.

The realization of what Keigo had just done sunk in mere seconds after it happened. He felt his heart drop at the sight of the one he loved on the ground from his actions, now scared of him and what he would possibly do to her next. “(Y/N),” was all he could get out.

“No, don’t.” (Y/N) moved back on the floor as best as she could in her scared state. She eventually stood up, backing up away from him while her arms wrapped around herself. “If you’re going to act like this, then I’m going to leave before you do anything worse.”

Keigo couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eyes, instead staring at the floor. He didn’t even move when (Y/N) walked past him with tears in her eyes. He could hear her grab her keys and put on her shoes before leaving, slamming the door for good measure.

Keigo didn’t try running after her, instead raising a hand to grip his hair tightly and leaning against the doorway of the kitchen. “Fuck.” This all happened because of him and his selfish actions, and there was no other way to look at the situation. “I’m sorry.”

He knew that one simple apology wasn’t going to solve anything, but then again he didn’t know what he could do to turn this around. He grit his teeth and his other hand hit the wall beside him. “I’m so sorry.”

#hawks x reader #hawks fanfiction #hawks imagine #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami fanfiction #keigo takami imagine #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha fanfiction #mha x reader #mha imagines #My writing #my work #my post

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lady-maria-the-wolf225 · 4 years

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Mikey x Fem! reader ch: 4

It was the next morning, and the four turtle brothers were doing their "Training day" like their father told them to do. Mikey was getting distracted being unable to do his training right. "Michelangelo. You seem unfocused today. What's gotten into you?" Splinter raised an eyebrow at his son, and Mikey swallowed his confidence replying. "nothing Master. I.....I'm just a bit tired. That's all." Splinter looks at him in a bit of a suspicious way. "You're not hiding anything from your own father are you?" Mikey looks at his brothers as they all stared back feeling nervous hoping he won't find out about last night. "N-No sensei. He isn't." Raph replied smiling nervously. They all smiled and chuckled acting like nothing even happened. "Hmmm. Very well. But if I find out you were all lying, then you all will be punished in the Hashi." They all nodded without hesitation. "Now. Back to training!" They went back to their training and soon finished after a couple hours. After they finished, they went to go check on (Y/N). She was gone. "Oh no! She's not here! We gotta find her!" Mikey panicked looking for her. Leo calms him down, and takes a deep breath. "We gotta split up and find her. She could be anywhere in our lair." They all agreed with the idea until Splinter walks up to them. "My sons. I forgot to mention to you all. I will be going out tonight to play chinese checkers with an old friend. You four will be on your own staying here. Understand?" They all nodded and smiled again at him. Splinter looks at them strangely. "You all are acting strange today. Is everything alright?" They all responded. "Pfff. Yeah! Everything's fine and dandy dad." Raph whistled trying to act casual. Same with the others. Splinter gently pushes them out of the way and notices the mess in Mikey's room. "Hmm. It seems you had too much fun in your hands." Mikey chuckles. "Yeah. You know me. Your classic fun son here." Splinter sighs and walks away shaking his head. "Teenagers....always enjoy going wild and party hard." Night finally came, and Splinter ends up leaving to go to the surface to play his game of chinese checkers. Meanwhile Leo, Donnie, Raph, and Mikey try to look for the girl. "little girl! Honey Cakes! buttercup! lollipop! pumpkin spice! where are ya?" Raph punches his shoulder. "would you quit with the cutesy pet names and keep on looking?" Mikey rubs it and sees his cat just cleaning itself. "Klunk! have you seen this girl? she's about this tall, kinda hot, and has nice looking hair like the little mermaid but shinier?" The cat looks at him and stretches its limbs. Mikey starts to panic. "Klunk doesn't know where she is either!!" they all kept on with the search until they stopped when they suddenly heard a loud thud. "ow!" they followed the source of the sound, and that is when they finally found her. "ugh!..." (Y/N) rubbed her head and she looks up as the four turtles stare in complete surprise. Mikey then waved at her with a smile and responds. "hi!" (Y/N) starts screaming, and then Mikey starts screaming. as for the other three brothers, they started to scream as well. "Why are we screaming!!?" Mikey asked in a frantic way. "I don't know!!" Donnie replied. they all eventually stopped screaming except for (Y/N). Leo walks up to her and covers her mouth shushing her. "Hey, Hey! calm down! we're not going to hurt you!" she pushes his hand away, and takes a few steps back. "y-y-you're.....y-you're...." Mikey interrupts her before she could even speak in sentences. "real? yes we are. allow us to introduce ourselves. This is Leo, in the blue. fearless leader, silent but deadly. up next is Donnie. Science geek, and a fix it kind of guy. then there is Raph the muscle, and a cuddly teddy bear at times. and finally yours truly. the party dude who loves to have fun. ladies call me Mikey." his brothers stare at him and he looks back. "what?...." Leo shakes his head sighing and kneels before (Y/N). he starts to speak to her in a soft tone. "Anyways, who are you?....and how did you get here?" (Y/N) takes a deep breath and brings up the courage to speak. "well, I was following a mystery stranger who has three fingers, and noticed he was going into the sewers. that's how I ended up here. I didn't realize this was your home. I didn't know." mikey's eyes suddenly lit up. "wait a minute. I remember now! I'm the mystery guy you were following! I saw you one time and I gave you back your headphones back when you dropped them. even though you were kinda mean to me. but uh no hard feelings." his brothers looked at him with shock. "Mikey! you know her!?" Mikey bites his bottom lip and replies in a nervous way. "n-not really....I think..." Leo gets up, "Great. just great. Now Sensei's going to punish us because of you. even worse, you may have put this poor girl in danger." Mikey looks at his brothers. "w-wait a second! I didn't do anything wrong! I just didn't know she was gonna come here! come on guys!..." his brothers ignore him as they walked away. Mikey sighs and sits down feeling hurt. (Y/N) looks at him with concern. "do they always treat you that way?" Mikey looks back at her. "Yeah. but not always though. only when I'm involved in something." (Y/N) nods her head in understanding how he feels. "I have a sibling too, so I know being the youngest sucks sometimes." Mikey stares at her for a bit and he clears his throat. "so uh.....you new here?" (Y/N) nods and replies to him. "yeah. I moved here from Chicago Illinois because my mom found a new job here. My dad passed away when I was a kid and....things just went down hill from there." mikey stares at her for a bit and asked. "how did your dad die?" she looks up at him and responds softly. "he died from a car accident." she looks down to the floor and mikey responds. "I'm so sorry to hear that." she slightly looks up. "thanks..." he scoots a little closer and starts to talk to her more. "don't mind my bros. they may a bit weird and cranky at first. but once you get to know them, they ain't bad. they are family and always will be. that's what matters. plus our father is a rat. we call him Master splinter." (Y/N)'s eyes widened a bit looking at him. "so...that rat is your father?..." Mikey nods and smiles. "yep. I know. it's weird, but he's the nicest and wisest rat you'll meet. you'll see when he comes back. although once he sees you, he'll put us through the Hashi." (Y/N) cringed a bit when he said that. "what's that?" Mikey sits up and explains what it actually is. "basically it's a punishment where we have to balance on objects so he could make one of us tell the truth. our only weakness is pizza. works every time." (Y/N) starts laughing. "really? pizza? that's so strange but funny." she laughs even more and then Mikey laughs along with her. they were slowly but surely starting to warm up with each other and Mikey smiles at her. she smiles back. Mikey couldn't help on how enchanting she looks to him. a mutant and human being friends may be rare, but could love even work between the two? well, only one way to find out.

#michelangelo #tmnt bayverse #fanfic #romance #tmnt 2016 #tmnt2014

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vanityloves · 4 years

Text

anyways im gonna listen to/read the fuckin...rise of the ogre shit bc ive been putting it off 🪓🥴 im gonna put stuff under the cut bc im gonna be TALKING n dont wanna make a new post everytime

piss

ok he performed for 2 pounds 50. which is basically $3 today i- well it was absolutely a power play on his father behalf that also had the promise of money so.

also lol he said Rejection fueled my ambitions which, yknow,, i already knew but it still hurts and i will continue to talk ab it xoxo

AH HELP. "...if ebay had been invented at the time he would've sold me online there and then,"

"man hands on misery to man, yknow"

THEN PROCEEDS TO CONNECT IT TO MUSIC/HIS CAREER. this man said :) the one thing i truly have a passion for. the one thing i fucking like.

oh yeah. bullied by students AND teachers.

oh god hes 42ish during this interview? ok.

the fuckin school bully saying he wouldve acted differently if he knew what hed become

getting called "faceache", then proceeds to call 2d that. jfc he really does just repeat what everyone says. really "treating others how i was treated/how they treat me"

maybe thats why? hes kinder to fans? bc :] you support me and like me so, ok ill return that energy

MURDOC GETTING HIS ASS BEAT N PARADING HOME LIKE WELL I WON BC 'I PISSED YOU OFF' SJDJD

a real rowdy boy. absolute nasty boy. fraud and arson... shooting ppls windows with his air pistols

black sabbath being a huge inspiration? fucking absolutely.

became a satanist n shit at age 16? "it fitted me like a glove" "heavy metal and devil worshipping became my favorite past times" ajsj funny that ppl in trying times often seek religion or following of some sort

heavy metal being his favorite, n loving the clash, while hannibals was more punk based

hannibal breaking murdocs nose for the 2nd and 3rd time for playing his music on hannibals turntable

he doesnt sound that bitter? ab hannibal? he doesnt sound incredibly fond but he talks ab how he got him into a lot of music. so, i imagine they we're a bit closer than i thought?

international baccalaureate in antisocial? anthropology?

MURDOC IS ACTUALLY SMART HE WAS JUST. NOT INTERESTED IN THE SUBJECTS? I GUESS? (also,,, he literally Built cyborg noodle and i think he had a PhD too lol. but its always nice to hear hes actually...yknow, interested or good at other things)

alright but murdoc having a fascination w/ other cultures - or at least some interests, that lead him to actually study the damn subject and "pass with flying colors"

'fuck college though. im gonna be a rockstar'

he sold his soul at 18ish? whenever the fuck he got kicked out but college was mentioned so my brain goes to 18ish idk

he lived with his father still and paid rent via low paying jobs one including 'part time dressing as santa'

help he was ab to take a Personal Job for quick cash and uhh well, "still made me call him sir though" he really said 20 dollars is 20 dollars, huh "that story was totally true"

alright, 1997,,,

2d stuff

loves zombie stuff? thats really cute, and is freaked out by the way they move. god he rambles

both he and murdoc are horses in the chinese zodiac

[[jfc ok if the official shit compares them a lot i understand why ppl ship them but Dont. its a narrative foil and that doesnt always mean Romance jfc.]]

SUMTHINK.

truly... a lil stinker. super cute bouncing baby and a "bit thick" which is stull so endearing to me. hes just a happy man!

excitable 10 year old and would dance around his room

jfc the fact he has normal/caring parents. i kinda forget how opposite hes supposed to be from murdoc but i think thats another thing jsjsysg (murdoc said why isnt my tragic story making me famous why does he get to be the Star. no wonder he acts like a loon)

i still dont get how gettin bonked by a tree branch made him go bald and also turn his hair blue

big tiddy nurse mommy,,,

went to the same school as The Cure and got decent grades despite hittin the noggin quite hard. WANTED TO BE A STORM CHASER... OMG??

oh thats really cute, hed bond with his dad by building keyboards toegther 🥺💕

messed around with paints and graffiti? artistic king

MURDOC AGAIN: QHDJ 'VILLANOUS' GANG HELP

oh yeah d day...new instruments, new band, new singer - and 'had to be the best or no dice' and absolutely CONFIDENT that his songs were bangers ajsjd

but on that same note, had absolute faith (or desperate) in 2d which i love

ransacked the fucking music shop jdjdj and 2d said he was Just Standing There behind the counter the whole shift hdhdh

"thats when your eye came out, yeah" "yeah!-" HELP WHY DOES HE SOUND SO HAPPY AB IT ?? yes he said ut hurt but he sounds...ok

jfc murdoc ragdolling this poor mf around. dunking him and slapping him around. actually? so incredibly terrible and abusive and i hate him for that 🔫 im sorry 2d stans. we dont condone that behavior here ong.

how and why the FUCK did 2d's parents allow that fucker near their child after that i??? help. wtf. his moms a nurse why didnt she just have murdoc sit in plain view of other people. god damn.

2d flying out the window n hitting the curb "whoops"

"just two black holes...[ah] it looked great...a blue hair, blacked eyed GOD- the girls would go wild-" "pretty boy looks" ???? HELP. HE DOESNT GO LIGHT ON THE COMPLIMENTS, HUH

RUSS TIME

oh yeah, he straight up kiddnapped this man help. idk how he managed that, russ is a Big Man??

AND MURDOCS MUSIC WAS SO FUCKING SEXY GOOD that russel said hm alright ill stay, :] out ifbhis owm free will im screaming.

"oh this is one of them febreeze commercials" "uh . yeah sure. *murdoc turning on his Sick Tunes*" but that either means? it was just his guitar playing the convinced russ? unless he and 2d recorded sumn?

"2d was the looks, murdoc the brains, then russel truly was the heart"

'while 2d and murdoc liked music, this man was a MUSICIAN' god fucking bless this book holy shit ny man russ getting some respect. he said back hurts from carrying this band.

murdoc basically heard this guy had big trauma that gave him So Many Skills n said "thats what i want" ok idk thats actually really? inch rest ting to me. seems that murdocs fine handing out compliments but i guess that where his charisma really helps out yeah?

"he was going to be in my band whether he liked it or not" ...murdoc-

HELP. 2D IS LIKE BRO GO ON IM LISTENING 🥺 despite hearing the story 50-60 times and murdoc said fuck off you lil shit.

ok irrelevant but i love his voice! its super comforting n nice to listen to 🥺

HELP MURDOCS SO BITTER. "NOTHING THAT HAPPENS TO US IS NORMAL" WELL YEAH. THIS IS TRAUMA CENTRAL.

idk how/why he sucked up all his friends souls though ... how are they all possessing the same person. they said "its my turn on The Russ"

DELL IS HIS ACTUAL, LITERAL SOULMATE...KING...😭

went to a private school,,, and was already possessed? and the thing where he gets bigger and smaller is a reoccurring thing?

was in a coma for 4 years?

hiphop machine...time and history...the ultimate set i guess.

his knowledge was infinite and hes a "Renaissance man" hes so fucking smart our king. jack of all trades but a master of drums. he said i know im good and what of it

PAULA.

HELP. HE RMBRS THE STALL: CUBICAL NUMBER 3 🥴 IF I DO RECALL 🤤

yes russel our king. fuck up his nose 5 more times. probably stunted his growth too. he shrunk after russ gave him a wallop im sure

why dies paula sound like tracer overwatch

also only dated 2d for 2 months before joining the band?

HELP SHE REALLY WAS THE FIRST MURDOC FUCKER: "but when i saw murdoc with his thick greasy hair, green teeth and yellow skin i thought 'oh this is the ine for me!'" "OH HES SUCH A DANDY-" HELP ME IM HQJDHD

sick in the head...like i want to hurt people help girl. shes fucking Crazy. but she rly said damn i didnt hear back from him again 😭 and my purse is gone JSHHD

MURDOC: SHE WAS DEPRESSINGLY UGLY *still fucked her*

NOODLE TIME

"small japanese person!"

2d: we werent gorillaz until noodle arrived!

im dying the reason he chose gorillaz. 'swinging through the jungle baring my ass'

noodle really said "im just happy to be here" and she balanced everyone out 😭 "she gave off pure love and the fact that she could laugh at murdoc REALLY helped too" RUSS... IS BABY

JFC MURDOCS SO FUCKING CONFIDENT IN THIS BAND IM LIVING FOR THAT. HE SAID YOU WANT US SO BAD IT MAKES YOU LOOK STUPID. THE CHARISMA

2d rambling ab some girl he met and "ssSs" "whats the s stand for hawhaw" "i dont know!".

THE RECORD LABEL GUY.

one song is all it took i ❤ good for them

just murdoc talking ab the party that they threw for thier deal and saying "you dont know how much of a dick i felt like [when carrying one of those huge checks]" like oh thats whatll make you a dick? alright.

A FOOD FIGHT THAT WENT SO HARD THAT IT KNOCKED 2DS TONSILS OUT? WHAT THE FUCK

ahshdj damon and murdoc not getting along bc of Rival Band One Uppery + damon calling murdocs cuban heels crap since ge wore steel ones with gold spurs.

MURDOC FEELIN EMBARRASSED BC HES 'QUITE PROUD OF HIS SHOES'

but the band and damon getting over music and their ambitions and became a "paternal figure"

HELP MURDOC SAID AWIOGA @ RACHEL WHICH MADE HER THROW HER DRINK IN HIS FACE AND SPLIT FROM 2D. kinda sad actually, she said i still like 2d but murdoc kinda ruined it by trying to get it in with me, it put a strain in our relationship :/ oh god murdocs That Dude

nov 31 1998: started recording :]

40 tracks that got cut down to 15 holy shit

KONG STUDIOS 🤲

hooking up cameras in every room ejdjsu

webby artist of the year in 2006? holy shit

noodle learning ab kong studios omfg

JFC. YES I KNEW KONG WAS BUILT ON/IN A CEMETERY BUT I DIDNT KNOW PPL FOR THE FUCKING PLAGUE WHERE THROWN THERE HDJD

built in 1739?

the ghost of the first owners ghost still roams around in the kitchen in the early hours and moans 'aaa glass of water'

theres some rotting bullshit near the studios and in the summer its fucking TERRIBLE

the former owners were a biker gang, and they all died in a fire

murdoc said this place has bad vibes. i want it.

grim weather

the building feels impossible to escape from huHgg

#rip lol i feel annoying but my blog my rights ig #brainworm ivy #gorillaz rambles

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metalvsflesh · 4 years

Text

Unprompted Friday Night Jayce Lore Post On My Blog That’s Mostly Dedicated To Blitzcrank and Viktor

ok so my takes on zaun champs have been heavily inspired by the DCU so hear me out:

Jayce but he has heavy Booster Gold vibes. If you don’t know who Booster Gold is, you’re missing out on an EXCELLENT superhero concept, go look him up. I promise you, you won’t be let down.

TLDR;

Initially became a superhero for the fame and attention, Jayce turned a new leaf when he realized the responsibility he holds and the power he has to influence the next generation of Superheros inspired by his + The Herald’s heroics in the past. After all, while he might not be there when it comes, he’s the Defender of Tomorrow, and he’ll make for damn sure tomorrow still continues to come once he’s gone.

Longer, WIP, Lore Take That Needs Fine Tuning:

Jayce went to school/used to work at the same place Viktor&Co. did. While he wasn’t the best inventor, his greatest strength was, by far, his troubleshooting skills. Anyone and everyone who had an issue with something not working right, they would call upon him to take a look at it and fix whatever was going wrong. He could find out, instantly, what was going wrong in anything - even those that weren’t anywhere close his field, like medicine or art.

The reason being for his Fantastic Troubleshooting is he has a semi-magical superpower that makes it so that he has like really vague future-vision. Like is manifests as a hunch or a gut feeling, and he somehow immediately knows how to prevent it. He thinks it’s him being smarter than everyone and like being able to predict things better because he’s smart and logical but it’s like a mix of being observant and logical and a legit magical power he has. He can see the kinda future, but he has to FIRST identify at least one or two patterns that COULD lead to that future outcome.

ex. he notices that a guard of a building at the school always takes his lunch at around 12:14 pm, and every now and again he forgets to lock the door after letting people in, THEN he gets like a gut feeling someone was going to attempt to sneak into the building while the guard is at lunch and has forgotten to lock the door, and it ends up happening a day or two later.

After graduating and working for some time at the school, he decides that he’ll use his predicto-skills to become a superhero - and there was a spot open, as there was only a Zaunite hero at the time. He fiddles with a scrapped invention of his, fitting it into a crazy multi-tool he could use to fight crime. And he starts to fight crime by using his future-vision. His superhero title becomes the “Defender of Tomorrow”, since he can kinda see into the future and he keeps predicting all these bad guy’s attacks n stuff etc etc. For short people like to call him “The Defender”.

Its fun, he’s popular, people love him and his face is plastered everywhere you can think. Action figures, comics, even a couple shitty movies later on in his life are made for him. Everything is fine and dandy for him, and he sees no reason to change that for many many years.

One night, he comes home to the Zaunite hero, known only has “The Herald”, waiting patiently while looking sickly and trembling despite his best efforts to stand sure and proud. Jayce felt a little bad, despite the circumstances, and offered him a seat and a glass of warm milk - knowing that was often the thing he’d request when people offered to give him something for helping them. He had came to inform Jayce of a strange trend he’s been finding down in Zaun: multiple factories and waste disposal companies were signing on contracts with a group based in Noxus, and rumors had spread of the infamous inventor Singed being allied with them. The Herald then confessed that he was gravely ill, despite it being rather obvious, and was unable to investigate them on his own. But he was sure this was something that needed to be stopped before it could become big, and thus he came to Jayce to give him the information in hopes he could take over the job of looking into them while he recovered from his illness, even offering to come to Jayce’s aid whenever he needed it in the future.

Jayce was initially inclined to refuse, but was suddenly struck with one of his hunches. This was going to be important down the line, and it was a matter of hundreds upon thousands of lives at stake. He didn’t know when, where, why, or how - but he had trust his gut for neigh-thirty years by then, so why stop now?

He promised The Herald he would look into it, and the man handed him a small gadget, claiming that activating it would notify The Herald when Jayce was in need of help. The Herald was also insistent on explaining to Jayce how to keep himself safe in Zaun, but Jayce waved him off and told him to go back home and rest.

Jayce almost immediately started researching, and as he does he starts getting intense hunches. They were so strong and felt so real it was like he was having flashbacks, or watching a movie, or visions - in them, a horrific war in what seems like some pretty, super magical land. Blood soaked battlefields, corpses blanketing the landscape as crows with strange eyes circling above, and a huge cloud of gas turning everything it touches dead and grey as if the very life in the land was sapped away by the slightest touch and the blue sky turns a sickly green and brown.

At first he’s intimidated, feeling small and helpless in face of such a large and devastating threat. He didn’t know where to start because all of the causes were so distant and scattered one man couldn’t possibly do it all on his own.

But doing nothing wasn’t an answer. Before, when he felt like he might not be able to stop something, he simply let it happen and help clean up the aftermath, because failing to stop it would tarnish his reputation. But he couldn’t just wait for it to happen. He had to do something about it. After all, he made a promise.

He tried his hardest, once or twice trying to get others to come help by asking them ‘super-favors’, but found the people of Piltover either didn’t care or thought the idea silly and far-fetched, and Zaunites either too scared or too powerless to stop the thing from happening on their very backdoor. It wasn’t until the war actually landed that people came out of the woodworks to try and help.

After the war, Jayce took a break from superheroing, trying to reflect and process everything he had gone through those past few years. He realized that it would have been a lot easier if there were more people like him to help. In fact, a lot of his job would have been easier if there were more people like him. People who had the power and influence to save people.

It was then he had one of his hunches, but he didn’t know what would come of it. He just knew one thing: he had to get back to superhero work, and try to gather a younger generation of superheros and get them to fill the shoes left behind by The Herald and, soon, himself, when he’s eventually forced to retire or dies defending the future he’s sworn to protect.

#Program: Stand-In ⟪OOC⟫#Eyes On The Horizon ⟪Jayce⟫#The First of Many ⟪Viktor⟫#old man jayce old man jayce old man jayce #i spent 3 hours on this :pensive:

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kim-seungmine · 5 years

Text

i feel you

title: i feel you

characters: (fem) reader x kim seungmin of stray kids

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: none, except that this doesn’t really have a plot... just seungmin being the perfect boyfriend,

word count: 1950 words

a/n: ohmygod i love this boy so much :(

“Happy graduation Y/N!”

The moment you exit the hall, your friends shower you with hugs, kisses and bouquets of flowers. Your best friend Yeji hands you a scrapbook she personally made while pouting. “I can’t believe we couldn’t graduate together,” she says. You turn to your boyfriend Seungmin who’s busy setting his camera. “You had to extend a semester because of your internship, it’s no problem!” you console her. “And Seungmin ended up graduating faster than any of us anyways.”

“I never promised to graduate with any of you,” Seungmin responds, his face doesn’t change a bit as he motions at Yeji to stand closer to you. “What kind of useless promise was that?” he continues, a satisfied smile on his face when he manages to snap a perfect photo.

Yeji rolls her eyes at his statement, striking another pose as Seungmin lifts his camera again. “Break up with him already,” she suggests with a light tone. Both you and Seungmin are well aware that Yeji is joking, but there are times when she’s serious.

You and Seungmin have been dating since the end of high school, and when your friends in university first found out that the two of you are dating, they were all shocked.

“I mean, you didn’t even bring any gift!” Yeji protests. “Y/N bought you a whole new lens for your camera last year. It’s not fair!”

Contrary to his sweet, dandy boy image, Seungmin isn’t the typical fluffy boyfriend who gives you flowers on every date or surprises you with a fancy dinner on your anniversary. He seems almost ignorant, but you always convince your friends that you won’t trade him for anybody else.

“I have a gift, I just didn’t bring it here,” Seungmin retorts calmly, walking towards you before shoving his camera to Yeji. “Don’t ruin the focus like you did last time,” he tells her. Glancing up at him, you feel him blush when he feels your eyes are on him. “You have a graduation gift for me?” you ask.

Seungmin drops a quick kiss on your temple that Yeji fails to capture on camera. “Nonono wait! I still haven’t finished adjusting this!” she yells, now frantically pressing the buttons so she won’t miss another rare display of affection.

“I always give you presents,” he answers. You nod, he’s not wrong. Seungmin remembers everything, from your birthday to your parents’ wedding anniversary. He never fails to call your parents to wish them happiness—even if you don’t think it’s important.

“There you go!” Yeji exclaims, returning the camera to its owner. Seungmin checks the results, mumbling under his breath when he realizes that your face is a bit blurred in one of the photos. “We have enough photos,” you cut him off before he can ask Yeji to retake it. Arguments between your boyfriend and your best friend are always entertaining, but you want to celebrate today in peace.

Yeji hugs you one more time. “Okay I’ll let you two have fun now.” She gives Seungmin a teasing glance. “I wonder what he has for you. That was the first time you told me you have presents for Y/N.”

“Will you leave us alone, please?” The boy ruffles Yeji’s hair playfully—you’ve noticed that it’s his way to say “Sorry for bullying you”—before taking some of the bouquets you’re holding. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” you ask.

Seungmin smiles, reminding you of the shy 20 year-old Seungmin you were so whipped for. You can’t believe it’s been four years since you started dating, and everyday you’re still thankful for having him with you.

“Home,” he simply says, interlocking his hand with yours before starting to run towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, something he rarely does because both of you don’t like it when people open car doors for you. “It’s a freaking easy job!” you deadpanned one time. “And part of basic manners during some circumstances. Movies make this thing overrated!”

Seungmin turns on the engine, humming to himself as you leave the parking lot. “When are your parents coming?” he asks.

“Tomorrow morning,” you grimace. “I can’t believe my brother forgot to buy tickets.”

Your boyfriend nods. “Let’s have lunch with them tomorrow.”

“What is it? You’re making me nervous.”

Seungmin takes a glance at you, his smile turns mischievous now and you figure there’s no use trying to extort information from him. “I’m craving for tteokbokki. Do you want to go later?” you blurt out. Seungmin groans, making a U-turn as you place your hand on top of his.

“Pretty please?” You bat your eyelashes at him although you know you don’t need to. “I graduated today.”

“Do you know how many stalls in Korea that sell tteokbokki? Do we really have to go all the way to Sinchon?”

“But you love it too! You’re picky when it comes to tteokbokki, remember?”

Seungmin sighs, turning to you to pat your head and that’s all you need to know that he will comply to your wishes. He always does, one way or another.

“We’re here!” he announces. You glance around, realizing that this is neither your or Seungmin’s neighborhood, but Yeji’s. “Did you move out from your old place? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Seungmin pretends not to hear you and takes your stuff out of the car. His hand finds yours again as soon as you climb out the passenger seat, still not saying a word. “Are we going to Yeji’s?” you try again, but your guess turns out to be wrong when he pressed number 9 in the elevator.

Your curiosity only escalates when Seungmin stops in front of his unit. He enters the password—today’s date, which you find weird—and pushes the door open. It doesn’t look too different compared to his old place, but this one is definitely bigger.

“Nice!” you comment, dropping all of your things on the sofa. “The window is big, I like it!”

Seungmin chuckles. “I know you do. Come here.”

He leads you to one of the two rooms and opens it. A bed and a bedside table are already inside, but what grabs your attention is the small jar containing seashells and beach sand on the table. You squeal, feeling excited just by the mere thought of examining the seashells one by one. Seungmin is the only one who understands your undying obsession with seashells.

You quickly take the jar, hugging it close to your chest. “This is my gift, right?”

“That, and the whole room—if you want.”

Seungmin panics when he sees your smile falter. You take your relationship with Seungmin seriously, and you know he does too, but this is something he never talked about before. Kim Seungmin asks you to live with him, and the whole idea of it makes your knees weak.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s completely fine if you don’t want to. It’s just an offer, okay?”

“No, it’s not that,” you answer, putting the jar back to its place before circling your arms around his torso. Seungmin returns your hug immediately, almost too fast and too tight, but you’re not complaining. He’s always so warm, so welcoming, so comforting and seeing him first thing in the morning is something you’ve been dreaming of for a while.

He caresses your hair as you rub circles on his back, trying to convince him that you’re not turning him down. “I’m not trying to force you,” he mutters, his voice laced with insecurity and you tighten your arms around him. “I recently got promoted and you already got a job, so I figured maybe we can try. Hyunjin will gladly move in if you’re not ready yet so please don’t feel press—”

“Let’s live together.”

Seungmin pulls away, scanning your eyes to find any hint of hesitation. He looks adorable like this—shy, relieved and confused all at once—and it makes your heart filled with so much love. To others, he may seem like he’s taking you for granted, but you know he isn’t.

“Really?” He flashes you that cute boyish smile again and you nod, laughing when he lifts you off the ground and spins you around. “Do you like it? I chose this place because it’s close to where you work and has big windows. Plus you can have sleepovers with Yeji.”

“It’s perfect!” you assure him. “I said I’ll move in with you, not marry you. Why are you this happy?”

“You’re not going to marry me?”

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Not now, dummy. You haven’t even started working. But when I ask, you’re going to say yes, right?”

Seungmin cups your face gently, caressing you cheek with his finger. He moves his hands to your head when you’re about to nod, startling you. “What?”

He licks his lips as he tries to form the right words. “Don’t answer that yet,” he says. “When I ask you later, if you still want to be with me, you can say yes.”

Seungmin keeps his gaze you the way he always does whenever he says something serious. He means what he says and you’ll be lying if you say that it doesn’t make your heart flutter. “Thank you,” you mouth. “I’m happy you asked me to move in.”

“You really thought I would only give you a jar full of seashells? Ouch Y/N, I’m hurt.” He clutches his chest, pretending to be offended.

You break free from his hug to sit on the bed before lying down. You open your arms and he slips into the bed right away, sighing in contentment when you snuggle closer to him. He places his head on your shoulder, mumbling, “I can live like this forever.” Yeji will never believe this, but Kim Seungmin can be really clingy and when that happens, you won’t get anything done for the whole day.

“Even if the jar was your only gift for me, I’d still feel beyond grateful,” you tell him.

“Why?”

“First of all, that jar looks familiar,” you say while threading your hand through his soft hair. “I saw that in that little shop we visited a few months ago. You shouldn’t have bought it!” You smack his head playfully. “It’s expensive, that’s why I didn’t buy it.”

“Secondly, all of the seashells are in my favorite colors. I didn’t know how you did that.”

Seungmin shifts so he could look at you before planting a peck on your lips. “By begging Hyunjin, Felix, and Jisung to help me. Remember our trip to Busan?”

“Oh yeah. That 'boys-only’ trip you forbade me to join. Now everytime makes sense.”

“We stayed at Haeundae for hours, I had to bribe them with food for a month.”

“See?” You smile at him. “It’s just a graduation gift but you put so much effort into it. Why won’t I feel grateful?”

He returns your smile with a brighter one before giving you another kiss on your lips, this time it’s sweeter and longer—the kind of kiss that makes you feel really, really special. “I love you and I care about you, I hope you know that,” he whispers.

“I feel that, Seungmin. I feel you.”

Seungmin rarely says those words, but you could care less about that. He may not be a loud lover; he loves you in ways that not many people can see. He’s always there when you need him, on days when you want to eat tteokbokki at Sinchon and even on your darkest days when you feel that nothing in your life will ever go right.

For you, that’s all that matters.

P.S. Tteokbokki at Sinchon (I forgot near which subway exit IM SORRY) is legendary guys, believe me.

355 notes · View notes

bigballofstress · 6 years

Text

Come With Us (Teen!Dean Winchester x Teen!Reader)

Description: You are trying to do some research on a werewolf case when two idiots a table over start being unbelievably annoying as they play the “Penis” Game.

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I’m finally starting to get back into the swing of things after school kinda kicked me right in the ass. I wasn’t really sure how to leave this one, but I ended up leaving it fairly open to interpretation or possibly another part. Let me know what you guys think, and if you do want another part, just go ahead and send me the request! Love you all as always!!!

You were going to kill them. Really, if they didn’t shut up soon, you would take everything your parents taught you and kill them. All you wanted to do was get some research done so you could figure out what you were up against, but you couldn’t focus on anything with them acting like children just one table over.

“Penis,” the taller one said.

“Penis,” the shorter one followed. They were only at a whisper yell, and you were starting to run short on patience.

You can do this, (Y/N). Just ignore them, you told yourself. Still, it didn’t work, and their back and forth continued to grate on your nerves more and more. Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to put an end to the idiocy.

The tall one opened his mouth, but before he could get a sound out, your voice rang through the quiet building. “PENIS!!!!!” It felt like an explosion had been set off as everyone in the library stared at you.

You smiled and went back to your lore. Finally, you could have some peace and quiet.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” a voice pulled you away from your book once again. You raised your eyes to meet the bright green eyes of the taller of the two idiots.

“Thanks,” you muttered dismissively before turning back to your book.

“I’m Dean,” he said, a wide smirk settling across his face.

“And I don’t care,” you smiled tightly. You just wanted him to go away so you could read.

For about five seconds, there was a moment of peace. Then Dean shattered it once again. “So whatcha readin’?” He asked, leaning forward to get a better look at your book.

You frowned and pulled back a bit. “It’s just some historical stuff. You wouldn’t care.”

“What kind of historical stuff?” Dean persisted.

“Ancient Native American cultures, religions, and traditions,” you muttered, fuming in irritation.

“Wait, what-“ he started, but you were at the end of your rope.

“Listen, buddy, I’m sure you’re a real charming guy, and I’d be willing to bet you get lots of different girls to fall for your little act, but I’m really not gonna be one of those girls. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to go to work. Thanks for wasting my time,” you finished the rant by snapping your book closed and walking out the door, almost blinded by annoyance.

-Dean’s POV-

I couldn’t help but stare as you stormed out of the library. I knew I could be annoying, but that seemed a little over the top.

“You struck out big,” the voice snapped me out of my daze.

“Shut up, Sammy,” I growled, turning to face the fourteen-year-old.

“Well, she certainly was angry,” Sam shrugged. “Was she trying to study or something?” He moved to the book you had left behind, leafing through it for a moment. I frowned as my eye caught sight of three guys following you out of the library looking like they were on a mission. That couldn’t be good. Quickly, I decided to follow them. Just to be safe.

“That’s strange,” Sam muttered. “She was reading about werewolves. Didn’t dad say something about those?” He looked up only to find his brother gone. “...Dean?”

-Your POV-

“Hey, hotstuff, wait up!” A voice called out from behind you. You frowned and ducked your head, picking up your pace a bit.

“I said, hold on,” the same voice growled. A large hand wrapped around your forearm and spun you to face its owner: a very tall, very muscular guy who looked at you like a piece of meat. Ugh. Disgusting.

“I was ignoring you. Now just leave me alone, okay?” You snapped, clenching your jaw.

“C’mon, hotstuff, don’t be like that,” he smirked, leaning a little closer. “I just wanted to asked you to dinner.” His eyes flashed for just a second. It was quick — almost unnoticeable — but for you, there was no mistaking the yellow irises. Well, you found the werewolves.

You leaned into the leader, a soft smile taking over your features. “Well, when you put it like that,” you cooed, holding his gaze so he couldn’t see your other hand slipping into your jacket pocket where it wrapped around the handle of your handy dandy dagger. “How could I refuse?” you smirked before shoving the dagger up hard under his ribcage, hitting him directly in the heart. His eyes widened for a split second before he fell in a heap. Immediately, the other two showed their true forms, preparing to attack. You smirked and spun the dagger, cracking your neck. “Well? Who’s next?”

You quickly dodged the flurry of claws and fangs, weaving through the attacks with the experience of a life-time of doing this. Soon you saw an opening and took advantage of it, taking down the second wolf. As you were pulling the dagger out of the thing’s chest, the last wolf landed a hit, his claws raking down your back. You inhaled sharply but swallowed your scream. You couldn’t have anyone finding you like this. Regular people tend not to believe you when you say the three dead guys around you were actually werewolves.

Quickly, you spun and plunged the dagger into the last wolf’s chest. As it fell with the rest of its brothers, you let out a sigh of relief, taking advantage of the quiet moment to wipe the blood off of your danger and onto the leader’s pants.

“Don’t move,” a new voice growled. Your breath caught in your throat. Quickly, you tucked your dagger into your sleeve. You didn’t think this was another one of their buddies, considering he hasn’t tried to kill you yet, but you couldn’t be too safe.

“I can explain,” I said slowly, not moving a muscle for fear of scaring him into doing something rash.

“I’m sure you can,” he scoffed. You frowned. He sounded kind of familiar. “Start talking fast before I put a silver bullet in your chest,” he continued. Your frown grew. A silver bullet? Was he... was he a hunter?

You slowly turned around to meet the eyes of-- “Dean?”

Dean lowered his gun a bit. “(Y/N)? You’re a werewolf?”

“What? I-- no, you idiot, they were!” you rolled your eyes. Dean glanced at the three bodies scattered around you before nodding and tucking the gun into the back of his jeans.

“So you’re a hunter,” he said, offering you a hand.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” you scoffed. You grabbed the outstretched hand and pulled yourself to your feet. Immediately, you gasped at the sudden pain shooting up and down your back. You stumbled forward, falling directly into Dean’s arms. Thankfully, he managed to catch you in time.

“Woah there! You good, sweetheart?” Dean asked, holding you up.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you muttered. You suddenly felt really dizzy, and were you slurring your words? “I just-- I just need a nap,” you murmured, leaning further into him as your eyes grew heavier. Your adrenaline had worn off, and the severity of your blood loss was finally hitting you.

“Nope, bad idea,” Dean said. “You need to stay awake, ok?” he grabbed you by the shoulders, trying to grab your attention. You nodded half-heartedly, not even really listening anymore. You were just so tired. You couldn’t help it.

-Dean’s POV-

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Dammit, wake up!” I shouted desperately.

“Dean?” My head snapped up at the sound of Sammy’s voice.

“Go get the car and bring it around front,” I ordered, tossing the keys at him. He nodded and ran off to get the car. Gently, I scooped (Y/N) into my arms, her head on my chest, and carried her to the front of the building, where Sam had already pulled up. I slid into the driver’s seat, laying her down next to me with her head on Sam’s lap.

“Buckle up and hold on. If she does anything, you tell me, understand?” I barked, already shifting the car into gear. I didn’t even wait to hear his response before slamming on the gas, making a beeline for the hospital.

-Time Skip / Your POV-

Ugh. You had a headache.

The pounding against your skull was unrelenting, making your head feel like it was about to explode. Of course, the annoying beat of the heart monitor wasn’t exactly helping.

Wait, heart monitor? That can’t be good.

Were you arrested? You moved your hands just a bit, waiting for the sharp metal pull of handcuffs, but it never came.

That’s certainly strange. If you weren’t arrested, then what the hell were you doing here?

Slowly, you forced your eyes open, groaning softly at the almost blinding light that hit you like a speeding bus. Something grabbed your hand, squeezing it just a bit too hard.

“(Y/N)?” You turned your head to the source of the voice, meeting the bright green eyes of the boy who, if you recall, was holding a gun to your head not too long ago.

Oh, yeah. That’s what happened.

“What are you doing here?” You muttered softly, your voice hoarse.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Dean scoffed, letting go of your hand. His cheeks seemed to be dusted with a bit of pink, too. “You got someone you want to call?” He quickly changed the subject.

You shook your head. “Nope, it’s just me,” you muttered.

Dean frowned. “What about your parents? Any family at all?”

“I thought you were a hunter,” you scowled back at him. “You know what this job is. My parents died years ago at the hands of some pissed off witch.”

You could almost see the gears turning in Dean’s head as he thought over what you said. Finally, he said, “Then come with us. My brother, my dad, and me, we’re all hunters. We can keep you safe.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, your mouth hanging open. “What? No, I don’t need anyone to keep me safe,” you snapped, immediately retreating into a defensive stance.

“You said it yourself, it’s a dangerous job,” Dean persisted. “Besides, I wasn’t asking.”

You frowned at the look of determination set on his face. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?” you sighed after a moment.

“Nope,” Dean grinned stupidly. He was so excited about inviting you with him. It hurt your chest just a bit.

You let out a big sigh and hung your head in resignation, almost ashamed at what you were about to do. “Fine. Could you at least get me some water, though? I feel like I haven’t had a drop in the last week.” You sent him a small smile. Dean chuckled and nodded, promising to be back in just five minutes.

You wanted to stay. Really, you did. He seemed like such a nice guy. Still, you couldn’t do what he wanted. You just hoped he could see that.

-Dean’s POV-

The grin on my face still hadn’t fallen. It had been plastered there the moment she’d agreed, and I doubt it’s going away anytime soon.

“Well you sure look happy,” Sam smirked up at me. “I take it she said yes?”

“Yup,” I nodded. “Looks like we’ve got another member of the team.”

“Yeah and a new girlfriend for you,” Sam laughed, shoving into me.

I threw him a pretend glare, lifting the cups to make sure they didn’t spill. “Ha ha very funny,” I said dryly. “She’s just a team member. She needed help, that’s all. Besides, weren’t you the one who said she shot me down?”

“Yeah, but that was before I saw that look on your face,” Sam shrugged. “You almost got us into three different accidents on our way here.”

“That’s ‘cause she was hurt,” I insisted. “I’d have done the same for anyone.”

“Sure,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, she’s a part of the team now, so be nice,” I said sternly, making sure to catch his eyes so that he knew I was serious about this.

“Alright, alright, I’ll be nice,” Sam held his hands up in innocence.

I grinned, satisfied with the answer. “Hey, (Y/N), there’s someone I want you to meet,” I called, pushing the door open only to find an empty room.

“(Y/N)?” I asked slowly. No answer. “She must’ve gone to the bathroom or something,” I shrugged and walked further inside, setting the cup on the nightstand beside the hospital bed.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam called. He held up a folded hospital gown and a small slip of paper. “I think she’s gone.”

I frowned and quickly crossed the room, grabbing the paper.

Dean ~ Thank you for saving me. And I’m sorry.

I sat down on the bed, staring at the note in shock. How could she have just left like that? She didn’t even say goodbye.

“Dean? You ok?” Sam asked tentatively, a small frown of worry on his face.

I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I muttered. “C’mon, dad’s probably waiting for us back at the motel.” I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.

“Dean--” Sam started.

“Let’s go,” I repeated, this time much harsher. Sam looked like he was going to protest for a moment before he sighed and walked out the door with me. I glanced back at the empty room, hoping for just a second that she would still be there.

Nothing.

I sighed and closed the door behind me as I left.

I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked down the hall to join Sam.

“Dean, you shouldn’t just--”

“Just drop it, Sammy, ok?” I interrupted. Sam sighed and stopped talking. We walked in silence towards the car, my hand closing gently around the note nestled safely in my pocket.

She’ll be ok.

She has to be...

#supernatural #supernatural reader insert #supernatural x reader #supenatural imagine #dean winchester #sam and dean #Sam and Dean Winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #teen!reader #teen!dean winchester #teen!dean winchester x teen!reader #hunter!reader #injured!reader #hurt!reader #badass!reader

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ultsracha · 6 years

Text

Idol!Changmin (Q) x Model!reader Fluff

Anon: Yes! We need more the boyz writers! If I may request, could you write a bulletpoint piece model!fem reader and idol!changmin/q meeting and falling in love? ❤️ A/N: Ahhh thank you for the request! changmin is my bias and so i would absolutely love to write for him so im glad this was requested. *disclaimer* this is the first thing ive written in a very long time and im sure it’s not the best, im sorry for that but hopefully i made up for it with adding other members cracky content as well <3

being a model was never what you intended to do when you grew up but you started posing for photography students during school and from there more and more people want to take your picture

now, 3 years later it’s a whole career and you get to work alongside some amazing brands and creators to promote stuff

one week, you were sent to seoul for a shoot with numerous other people to promote a clothing brand

usually you didn't mind flying out to new places, in fact it was the best part of the job once you got over the language barrier

but this time, you were completely alone, your manager couldn't come due to family problems and all of your friends had work

so you were completely alone going to this event

and little did you know it wouldn't just be a small shoot, tons of people were there from all over the world

they had actors, singers and models from tons of different places and companies

and most of them were older than you which made things more stressful

so, first day there and everyone’s being told their schedules and what they need to be doing

when you’re given your schedule you see you’ve been put on the same shoot as a boy group and a handful of other models

not that you minded because maybe you could make some friends seeing as you’d be there for a while

luckily your shoot wasn’t for a while as they didn’t choose you as one of the major people involved with the project so you ended up in a backroom with a few other people minding their own business

it was reasonably quiet in the room, people chatting away and on their phones until the door burst open and a group of boys walked in

all of them were, well

very very very very cute

its uwu time

no wonder they’d been picked for this project, who wouldn't want something modelled by them

They walked in together, one following behind the other. The final boy to walk in looked around at everyone until his eyes met yours

and when i say awkward eye contact, i mean awkward eye contact for about 6 seconds before he accidentally walked into his group member in front of him

followed by some profuse blushing and apologising

they proceeded to disperse into the room and sit down

the one who made intense awkward eye contact lingered for a second, looking around before settling into a seat opposite you

Now there were around 18 people all sat together, not really talking very much

and the air was, awkward.

Until the organiser of the event came in to introduce himself and explain what you were all meant to do

The whole time he was introducing himself you felt someone looking at you, but whenever you searched everyone's faces no one was looking

everything was going fine and dandy until the guy explaining the concepts and the activities you guys would be doing for the shoot asked everyone to introduce themselves one by one

it wouldn’t usually be a problem, you’re a confident person and modelling has certain helped that but when surrounded by so many beautiful humans it’s scary as hell

so, they all introduced themselves. one of the members called Hyunjoon even threw in a cheeky wink at the end of his introduction

like who ??? let you be so cute

but then it came to the one who held the awkward eye contact

he seemed dead set on never looking at you ever again after that first moment up until the second he stood

he looked right at you as he introduced himself

explaining that he didn't mind being called Q or Changmin

what a freaking cutie pie

when it was your turn you felt the most amount of butterflies in your stomach since probably your first kiss back in primary school

introducing yourself as calmly as possible, only looking up from the floor briefly to see Changmin staring into your eyes with keen interest

oof that was enough to set your heart on fire

Finishing your introduction of where you’re from and how old you are, you sat down quickly feeling the heat in your cheeks increase when you saw two of the boys whispering together

once the man was gone it was a lot easier for everyone to chat and discuss how they thought the project would turn out, excited to be part of such a unique shoot

Changmin was glancing your way every few seconds, looking like he was having an internal battle with himself

You decided to just be a bad bitch and go speak to him yourself

he was with Hyunjoon anyway and you needed to congratulate him on winning the best introduction of the team award!!

when you got there they both abruptly stopped talking and looked at you, waiting with wide eyes for what you were going to say

“so you’re part of a boy group yeah?” you ask

might as well ease in gently yanno

they both looked at each other before Hyunjoon answered and began explaining their roles in the group

he explained in great length that Changmin was the main dancer

speaking very briefly of the other members in order to explain that Changmin can sing and dance so well and he’s super amazing with fans

Changmin all the while stood there blushing and trying to disagree with him

honestly a sweet but strange interaction

until finally Hyunjoon was called away by another member of the group

leaving just you and Changmin alone

you’d moved to a couch nearby by now so for a few moments you sat there admiring him as he watched Hyunjoon walk off

when he turned back he rushed to say “I’m sorry about him, he loves to hype us all up. I’m not really that cool’

“No, I think you’re pretty cool...” You shrug, trying to pass off the compliment slyly which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

A faint blush was working it’s way up his neck when the organiser walked back in with 3 sheets of paper

“I can see you’ve all got to know each other more and now, I want you to divide yourself into teams as evenly as possible. I don’t want all the girls put in one team though because there are less of you”

He then leaves the sheets on a table and walks off again leaving you to find the courage to ask Changmin if he’d want to be in the same team as you

Because I mean you’ve only known him for about 45 minutes but he’s already showed how sweet he is and you can’t help but feel excited at the idea of spending the next few days working with him

“So would yo-”

“Hey could w-”

You both tried to ask each other to be on the same team in the exact same second

Both of you burst into laughter and write your names on the paper one under the other still giggling the whole time

The rest of the morning goes by just like this, giggling together and gradually getting to know one another more and more

by the time the afternoon rolls around he’s basically your best friend

You both love the same movies, same books, enjoy similar music

Even as hair and makeup is being done you don’t stop talking and giggling

Lets be real here, a crush was growing

It’s like within the space of 4 hours you’d become inseparable

When the photos were being taken your teams connection together was so genuine

Working for a brand that’s entire concept is friendship and having fun together it was hardly surprising that the laughter didn’t end there

The rest of the time you were there your cheeks never stopped hurting from how much you smiled and laughed

Not just from Changmin but also from all of his groupmates too

Such a wonderful, fun group of people to be around

You truly felt like one of them by the end of the shoot

but lets not ignore the lingering glances you and Changmin exchanged, or how he always managed to find an excuse to be stood with you and how whenever he’d walk you to your hotel room door he would try and make the conversation last as long as possible and always, always end the night with a hug

okay lets be real again, a crush had definitely formed, grown up, moved in and was now decorating the kitchen in your heart

Like you couldn’t get enough of his happy energy and humour

At the end of the final shoot when you’re all stood around talking and laughing Changmin grabs your arm and pulls you away

Clearly you don’t resist because like anyone would accept some alone time with Changmin

Gently he leads you to a couch in the corner of the room and sits down

His cheeks are already rosy when he starts to speak, his hand starting to get clammy against your own

“y/n, will you go on a date with me?” he blurts out quickly and then opening his eyes wide as if he was surprised he said it

and in that moment

your heart

burst and stopped and did a trip round the globe

“Of COURSE” you literally scream

His face lights up immediately and he jumps up hugs you quickly and darts off back to the others

you hear them all cheer and see them start hugging and pushing around a very, very blushy Changmin

Later that evening he arrives at your hotel room door, still wearing that same red hue on his cheeks

You go to the arcade together and the whole evening is wonderful

it’s no different than how you guys have spent time together the last few days but this time Changmin insists on holding your hand every second

As well as hugging you from behind when its your turn on the claw machine

Unfortunately you claw machine skills are...

Limited

But of course, your knight in shining hoodie and jeans swoops in and wins you the stuffed animal you really wanted

After you’d played every arcade game and taking endless amounts of cringey pics of each other you walk home slowly still hand in hand

“You know, I’m really glad I met you” he states out of the blue, still looking ahead of him

“Me too, I feel so complete with you around me” you reply back, swinging your joined hands slightly

From then on, you were never apart

Literally like the brand you did the shoot for hired you permanently for big moneys and a promise of a successful modelling career a few weeks after your first date with Changmin

Which you graciously accepted for only that reason

Not the fact the love of your life happened to live down road from your new apartment

and all you wanted to was hold his and forever

plus the rest of the group fully accepted you as one of their own

like seriously it was hard to find any moments alone with your boyfriend when hanging out at the dorms because hyunjae liked to ask what you’re doing every 3 minutes

as well as father maknae line demanding your attention every second you were there

not that you complained about any of it

because who would complain about a family like that

and a boyfriend like Changmin

really out here living your best life huh

#im back bitches #im sorry to disappoint #the boyz #the boyz fluff #tbz #tbz fluff #changmin #tbz changmin #the boyz q #tbz imagine #the boyz au #the boyz scenario

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hockeyplayerstories · 6 years

Text

Rasmus Dahlin | Comfort Is All I Need

College assignments to be done, crazy things happening at work was all that I was thinking about at the moment. These assignments would help boost my grades up but I can’t seem to get to them because of my job. The reason why I am attending college is to get a good job that paid me well but now that I think about it, I love the job I have now. I am just going to college because my parents wanted me to go when in reality being main merch creator for the Buffalo Sabres was what I always wanted to do. When I was little, I loved playing hockey and always dreamed about working for my favorite NHL team. I always loved art and would draw my ideas hoping that one day they would get used and they did and all the fans loved them, that made me happy. I also helped the equipment managers order new equipment occasionally.

Currently sitting in my office at the rink taking a break from drawing new merch ideas, I think about everything that has happened to get me to this point and can’t help but think about all the school that I had to do before the holidays start which only adds to the stress I already have from making sure that all the fans have what they want ordering online. I actually have thought about quitting college before, didn’t because my parents weren’t happy when I brought it up and now have stopped talking to me so I think it’s okay to just stop going, I will just call. Now that I think about it, it does make me sad that my parents aren’t talking to me all because I don’t want to get a better job than I have now but c'mon who wouldn’t want this job. I made friends with half the team, cried when a couple would get traded and laughed with the new players, the veterans or the coaching staff would introduce me as Champ which was the nickname my first Coach gave me and it has stuck with me growing up. I remember the first time the team heard my nickname, the Coach who coached me from novice to peewee’s came to visit me and at that time I had a whole squad in my office just hanging with me talking about ideas while sitting on the few furniture I have in my office while watching TV, he walks in looks at me and goes ‘Hey Champ’ and then continues his way down the hall while everyone in the room asked me why he called me that, after that they started asking me to play some shiny with them about once a week.

I didn’t realize I was crying until a tear dropped on to my desk, it's a good thing I don’t wear make up cuz then it would be all over my cheeks with the way i was wiping my tears away. They still went down my face as I started answering emails from the equipment managers since they were asking me to send out orders. I completely forgot that Coach was showing some players around because I was so focused on thinking about what to do to reduce my stress. The tears still fell as Coach opened the door “this is Y/N also known as Champ, she takes care of the orders of equipment and the merch” when the players looked inside, I just waved and smiled a watery smile. They all just stared at me, I notice Rasmus has a soft look on his face, even the Coach stared at me “you okay?” He asked me “yeah I will be fine” I say, tears still slowly going down my face as I wave it off as if it’s nothing and look back at my computer and laptop sat on the desk. What I didn’t see was when they were leaving, I assumed Coach told them I would be fine, Rasmus whispering that he would come back to see me after and Coach nodding his head as he closed the door behind him. I just continued my work planning on taking a break for about an hour, being good friends with the people who take care the rink, they let me use the ice when I want which I only use during times like these when I have to get rid of stress, shooting a puck and skating around does the job.

Wiping my face one more time, I make sure the email I just hit send on is sent before pushing my chair on wheels back and walk to the makeshift mudroom/closet where I keep my equipment and other things, it even has a little kitchen area with a small fridge and toaster oven on the counter, the room was just a little smaller than my office but it was beneficial. With my helmet on my head, gloves and stick in one hand and skates in the other, I make my way out of my office door and to the elevator. On my way there, I pass by the Coach talking alone with Rasmus, before I pass them I slow down enough to point in the direction of the ice looking Coach in a way of asking silently, very thankful when he nods his head. “Hey Y/N!” I hear Rasmus yell from where I am standing at the elevator, I turn to look at him still standing with the Coach “Do you mind if I hang out with you today?” He asks, I just shake my head as if saying I didn’t mind at all. It was the perfect idea and I know he wasn’t the only one thinking that because as he walks to me after saying goodbye to Coach, I see Coach smiles and give me a nod turning around to return to his office. It silent as we wait for the elevator, I feel his eyes on me and I don’t know what to think about it. He is probably judging me for how red my eyes still are, I sniffle a couple times before I reach the bench to tie my skates while he went to get his equipment.

Done with tying my laces, I notice he hasn’t returned yet but I didn’t really care since it was his choice to hang out with me, he probably found another rookie to hang out with. Making sure my visor is clean and that I can see through it as I place it on my head snapping the snaps to keep it on my head, I shove my hands into my gloves and grab my stick while stepping through the open bench door onto the ice. I skate the first three laps a low speed to not waste my energy, on the forth, I shift to skate backwards just in time to see Rasmus sitting on the beach watching me, it seems he has been sat there for a couple of minutes. After a few minutes, he tosses ten pucks on ice and I place them in formation of a drill I loved to do as a kid in the center circle to practice edge work and stop on the farthest blue line after moving the net closer. I tap my stick on the ice asking for a puck and I receive one that slowly glides to my stick, I wait looking at Rasmus to signal go in a position ready to take off. No whistle? Just clap your stick on the ice. With the clap of his stick when he steps onto the ice, I control the puck around the pucks while skating as fast as I can, taking a wrister top shelf when I successfully went through the pucks without touching them. The sound of clapping makes me look up from the ice to see not only Rasmus leaning against the bench’s boards but also about half the team is and Coach is there is well, I can’t help but smile a little. I get back into position waiting for a puck but not before get a little advice from Buffalo’s captain “when going around the pucks, tuck and lean a little more in towards where you are turning, that was perfect other than that” Jack says, everyone else agrees. They continue to cheer until I am done with my ice session, feeling a lot better than before.

It has been a hour since we, Rasmus and I, got back to my office and haven’t said a word. While I continue my work, he watched TV with his shoes off and feet up laying across the couch. It’s all fine and dandy for a couple of minutes until I am reminded why I was sad,I looked through my phone notifications where a text message from my mom asking if I did my assignments still was and before I know it tears are streaming down my face but I am silent and try to make it seem like I am okay. I put my hands on my face to hide before Rasmus could see me but he already knows, I hear his socked feet walking towards me. “Hey, you’re okay shhh I got you it’s okay” he pulls me out of my chair and into him until my head is on his chest. I hug him back tightly for a few seconds before he pulls away to look me in the eyes and pulls me to the couch, he stops and sighs “I know we just met Y/N but I’ll be honest, I have completely fallen for you..........and I want to try a relationship because I hate thinking about you and another male and I want to be the one to make you happy and help you when you are upset. It broke my heart when I saw you crying earlier today, will you give me the chance?” all I can do is smile because he sounded nervous and nod my head, pecking him on cheek. He smiles back and lays down on his back before motioning me to lay on him, we cuddled and talked about what was going on and how to fix it until we fall a sleep. Alex Nylander even took a picture when walked into my office to see me and posted it Instagram “Aww look at the new couple all cuddled up” it got so many likes and lets just say I almost killed him when I woke up but didn’t because it looked adorable.

### I am sorry if it isn’t what requested, if you requested it. I don’t like writing about sadness, its just isn’t my style. if you don’t like it don’t be afraid to tell me and I will fix it. The skating to reduce stress is what I actually do, I go to skate about four times a week and it absolutely helps. I love feeling the wind in my face, through my helmet of course, when I pick up speed. I do plan on trying hockey but because i started late I have to wait until i am 18 to play for the local team. It gives me time to work on perfecting my skating so I am not upset about that. Oh! and the nickname Champ is my actually nickname at the rink, well my friend calls me that because he was there since I started at 15 and has told me I have gotten faster and better ###

****Reminder: I won’t be writing about Rasmus again, so please request another player and make sure I haven’t already written with that player. I did another Rasmus because I did have this in mind so I wrote it. I mean I would be glad to write more than one with the same player but my original plan was to, like I said, write one imagine for each player****

#rasmus dahlin #rasmus dahlin imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #NHL Rookie Imagines #buffalo sabres

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mlstymonsoon · 6 years

Text

what gag layout type can say about a toon

[note: sorry if smth similars been done. i wouldnt know or remember kjghlkfhg but anyways this is more referring to the toons themselves and not referring to the actual players! lots of toontown societal lore-based stuff in here and how toon lifestyle affects personality n stuff idk!!!!! if u find any errors in my wordz i apologize]

✰ the conventionalists ✰

Toonupless ; The Protector

toons without the only healing gag track available to the community may seem unfeeling at first glance, but they give it their all in battle with their strongest gags and lure so toonup isn’t needed in the first place.

more of a loner or soloist, not needing a healing gag due to not being around other toons. might hold a guilty conscious about being unable to heal others depending on how they were raised. some may go toonupless for not wanting the responsibility of healing; they would rather continue to attack to avoid further toon damage. tend to be more stoic/serious than other toons and/or lack a strong sense of humor itself. very aware toons that like to take in a lot of news.

Trapless ; The Utilizer

these trapless toons are one of the most common you’ll see around each of the neighborhoods and with good reason; they have a fair amount of defense and offense gags to choose from.

are often diligent; don’t mind the sluggish training drop can bring and power through adversity. appreciate the flexible usage of drop with its high damage and lack of needing someone else to complete the attack, as compared to the similar trap track. decent cognitive skills and work well alone as well as with a group. willing to improvise if the time calls for it and can do so quite successfully.

Lureless ; The Thinker

lureless folks are an interesting bunch as they cannot stall any cogs or activate their trap by themselves. some would think it’s a poor choice, having to rely on others like that but dont worry, they know what they’re doing.

great communicators and problem-solvers. evidently work smoothly in groups but can be just as efficient in times they are alone by giving it all they got before cogs can attack continuously. good at making quick decisions in and out of battles. would rather ponder their next move instead of luring all the cogs and calling it a day. are very loyal friends and learn to trust others in times of need.

Soundless ; The Strategist

sound. the one track society tries to tell toons that you can’t live without it. its constantly the go-to in countless situations. yet soundless toons prove sound could be obsolete and they could all still survive.

prefer to take things more slow and steady. extremely efficient; just know how to get things done. tend to be highly experienced and clever. good explainers and dont fear sharing their thoughts aloud. may be notably more sensitive to loud noises and/or appreciate the quiet. ambiverted; can communicate well when needed but do need to recharge after a while. willing to stand up for others and themselves.

Dropless ; The Initiator

drop has a bad reputation with these toons due to its slow-paced and tedious training which doesnt pair well with energized dropless folks’ need to always be moving forward.

prefer to be in control of their situations as much as possible. work very well and efficiently in groups. dislike when things dont go as they planned. are at their best when in a fast-paced environment. tend to be good at hiding emotions; are more likely to be passive-aggressive when upset. most show pride in themselves but still care about others and their accomplishments. aren’t too afraid of confrontations.

✰ the non-conventionalists ✰

Throwless ; The Go-Getter

possibly one of the most common unconventional layouts out there in toontown. many wonder why these toons would dare to leave out such a foundational and useful gag track. reasons vary but one thing’s for sure—they’re up for it.

dont mind having to mix things up a little; flexible. are very aware of their strengths and know their limits. courageous to do the unexpected and enjoy doing so, even if some effectiveness is lost in battle. less likely to prefer sweets as their favorite choice of food. tend to be very experienced in battles; knowledgable. probably would laugh if a toon tried to underestimate or belittle them.

Squirtless ; The Achiever

these toons lack the complementary gag track to the other deemed-essential, throw. being able to stop training squirt at a lower level than throwless folks who need at least cream pie makes this choice favorable, but still always raises the question of why. to which they say: why not?

prefer to not appear too out-of-the-ordinary in most battles. take pride regardless in themselves. more predictable than their throwless counterparts. might dislike getting wet more than the average toon—good luck finding them at donald’s dock. down to face a challenge every now and then. quick-thinkers who tend to choose their gags first when in a group. mentally prepare themselves for potential situations that could occur.

Semi ; The Supporter

toons whom would once be considered an uber now are high laff with the same few gag tracks they had when they were low laff. these wild toons know what efficiency truly is.

may not say aloud to their teammates what their only gags are, as to simply adapt and work fast with what the others are choosing to use. like to live in their own little world; creative and imaginative. enjoy pushing limits and taking risks. try to remain a step ahead of everyone else in battle. may be more likely to having a carefree, easygoing personality. absolute workaholics who always feel like they need to be doing something.

Uber ; The Survivor

the special little guys who go big or go home!! ubers with their low laff leaves them much more vulnerable to cog attacks but their maxed gags make up for what little health they have. they'll fight just as well as any 100-laffer!

have to always be working hard to afford all the gags they’ll have to keep buying after they go sad numerous times. dont let setbacks get them down. strong-willed toons always living on the edge—got nothing to lose. chill to talk with, very social and grateful and enjoy the company of others. modest as hell. good listeners and willing to cooperate.

✰ the toon citizens ✰

Gagless ; The Worker / The Young

gagless toons simply do not get involved in cog-related business and work in another field such as doctors, nurses, mechanics, store workers, therapists, chefs, cops, caretakers, and so on. these toons are often overlooked but are vital to the toontown community, which is why when kidnappings-by-cog occur, it gets taken seriously and large groups go to search for and save them.

toons may start gag training only to decide they’d prefer to not continue on with a cog-fighting lifestyle. they’ll have to return their gag pouch to officials, however. toon workers aren’t allowed gags as they work so much with their chosen profession there isn’t need to carry them. but cogfighters can have part-time jobs if they want. worker toons also significantly are lower in laff, as they cannot go fight cogs and aren’t assigned toontasks. they can partake in leisure activities such as fishing or gardening when not working and earn laff in this way. for their full-time joining of the toontown workforce, they also will receive 5 laff from flippy himself. thus making the lowest possible laff for gagless toons 20, and the highest 37.

tend to be the most tranquil of toons, not wanting to partake in any fighting or action. dont necessarily seek attention. very responsible and respectable. appreciate all that cogfighters protect them from and do what they do in honor of them. its hard to group these toons altogether bc theres so many different possible professions for them!

Becoming A Cogfighter

besides the workforce being gagless, young toons also are gagless in the sense they aren’t old enough to safely become a cogfighter. toons receive their gag pouches and first tasks at 15 yrs old which is represented by their starter laff meter. however, young toons can get their pouches and start training gags as young as 12 only with parental guardian consent and kids consent as well. no parents forcing kids to start training when they dont feel ready. overall choosing to wait is done more than choosing not to wait.

generally until they can start training, young toons are educated on cogs and their threat and how they’ll eventually become a cogfighter. and can do activities, ride the trolley, make art, swim, play and overall enjoy being a kid w/o responsibilities!! some toons are overly eager to start training so they may convince their parents to let them early. which is all fine and dandy until that eagerness and immaturity leads to.......Bad Things

#toonblr #toontown #toontown rewritten #ttr #toontown lore #toons #mo quacks #ref #idk what 2 tag this tbh #feel free 2 ask me abt anything here!!#cant believe i finished it.#i have another cool idea 2 do thats lore based but like it might take a lot longer O_O #idk if ill get 2 it today #also while making this forgot toons w/ less than 5 tracks are called semis oop #long post -#text heavy -

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gukyi · 7 years

Text

start anew | ksj

⇒ summary: it’s been five years since you left your hometown, vowing never to return, but a simple invitation to a christmas party and a yearning to know whether or not you’re truly over the heartbreak you left behind has you wondering if, maybe, the christmas spirit and promise of a new beginning can change your mind.

⇒ christmas!au, exes!au

⇒ pairing: kim seokjin x female reader

⇒ word count: 11k

⇒ genre: soft angst and fluff (everything is just melancholy, alright?)

⇒ warnings: alcohol consumption

⇒ a/n: for @sonnenfuchs, from your secret santa!! here it is luce, i tried to make it as not angsty as possible but it looks like i didn’t try hard enough. this does have a happy ending though, if that’s any consolation!! merry (late) christmas and happy new year!! i wish u and the rest of the gc all the best ♡

When the train pulls into the run-down station, cement littered with trash and paint on the walls chipping, you feel sick to your stomach.

The sight of this poor old thing, empty and dilapidated, leaves you nauseous as the train pulls in, screeching as it comes to a stop. You’re the only one getting off at this stop, one out of the four other people that are taking this sad little train on a journey to nowhere, stepping onto the platform with your suitcase by your side and vow echoing in your mind, one that swore you’d never return.

Looks like Christmas brings out the optimist in all of us.

Even though it’s been nearly five years since you’ve ever looked back, took that first step onto the midnight train going anywhere—to the airport, actually—on the path to a life that doesn’t leave you wallowing in sorrow, you remember this place like the back of your hand. Remember the way that the sign above your head shook when a train pulled into the station too quickly. Remember how the gate on the way out would get stuck sometimes, and would only take a hard kick to come loose.

You look down at the faded pink bench waiting on the platform, and you remember how he used to kiss you on that. How he used to press his fingers into your skin and his mouth onto yours as you kissed and kissed and kissed in the dim light of an empty train station in the early hours of the morning. Remember how you would hop onto any train that came by, together, letting it take you wherever the wind blows. Remember how he would press you into the dirty wall of the train station, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and your cheek and your neck, promises in the form of hickeys on your collarbones.

People always ask you why you left, but the thing is that he did first.

You give a soft kick to the gate on your way out, feeling it dislodge beneath the toe of your boot as you press it open. It’s nearly ten at night. The roads that surround you are quiet, cars whizzing by every once in awhile, headlights flickering in the darkness. No taxis in this town.

Pulling out your phone, only then are you reminded of the shitty cell service in the area, the bars on your phone phasing in and out of existence as you try to scrounge up enough reception to make a call. With enough effort (it seems as though you still know all of the tricks to getting service in this town), your phone musters up two measly bars. You press call.

“Y/N?”

“Yoongi?” You breathe out into the phone, feeling this foreign sense of comfort at the sound of your once-best friend’s voice. It’s been too long, but at the same time, it hasn’t been long enough.

“Why are you calling me? Did your train just pull in?” He asks, and his voice is groggy and soft, almost too quiet for you to be able to hear him. If it weren’t for the deafening silence that surrounds you, you probably wouldn’t even be able to make him out.

“Yeah,” you answer, and you wonder if this sad chatter warrants you asking him a favor. Even if you were best friends once, back when you found joy in being holed up in this small town with people you loved (not anymore), you haven’t spoken in five years. Things have changed. So have you. “Could—could you come and pick me up? You know where.”

“Aw, Y/N, I would, but I don’t have a car with me. My buddy Namjoon borrowed it for the weekend. You remember Namjoon, right? Lanky kid from college. I can send him to pick you up, if that’s alright?” Yoongi says into the phone, and there’s so many memories laced in the words that leave his lips. Memories of you and him taking his beat-up Cadillac for a midnight drive to McDonald’s, nearly crashing it into the lake at the local park after you took a wrong turn. Memories from the college years you spent in this little town, at the local university that deserves a lot more credit than it’s given. Memories of Namjoon and Yoongi and you and him, together as friends.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to be an inconvenience for anybody,” you say, swiftly declining the offer as you put others’ needs over your own. How typical of you. Guess some things will never change, no matter how much you want them to.

“Are you kidding? I know for a fact he only goes to sleep at three in the morning. Here, I’m gonna text him,” Yoongi says, and you know him well enough, even after five years, to know that once he says he’ll do something, he’ll do it.

“Yoongi, you really don’t have to—”

“Done. He’ll be there in ten,” Yoongi says happily. “Don’t worry about inconveniencing us, Y/N. We all want you back.”

Not all of you do, you think to yourself bitterly.

“Thanks, Yoongi. Sorry for calling you so late at night,” you say, unable to stop the apology from spilling from your lips. You already know Yoongi’s going to berate you for it.

“Stop apologizing, Y/N. You know I don’t mind. I was awake, anyway. What, did you think that after college, I turned my life around and started to go to bed at reasonable hours?” Yoongi jokes, making a smile force its way onto your lips, even if only a little. Always the jester. “Wow, you really don’t know me.”

“Yoongi, I—”

“I’m glad you’re back, Y/N. I really am,” Yoongi tells you, voice a hushed whisper. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Yoongi,” you finally admit, letting the words tumble out. If nothing else, you always regretted leaving him when you took that step onto the metal flooring of the train. He was the one person worth staying for.

“See you, hey? Don’t forget about me,” Yoongi says, and it’s a promise you know you’ll end up keeping, one of only a few. With that, he hangs up, leaving you standing in the silence, letting the crickets soothe your racing mind and aching heart.

There’s not a twig in this town that hasn’t been tainted with the memory of him.

A car pulls up in front of you after another five minutes of you contemplating to yourself, wondering why on Earth you came back after you swore you never would, wondering what could possibly have drawn you here yet again. It certainly isn’t him.

The window of Yoongi’s Cadillac rolls down, and in the hazy light of the street lamp above your head, you make out the grinning, albeit tired, face of Kim Namjoon. He still looks the same, only, he’s dyed his hair. It looks nice on him.

“Y/N? Is that really you?” Namjoon says, leaning his head out of the window as he squints. “Damn, I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so different.”

“Hey, Namjoon,” you say sheepishly.

“Long time no see. Hey, jump in! Yoongi sent me to come and fetch you, so your honored and esteemed chauffeur waits for you,” Namjoon says, tipping his head to emulate a full-body bow as he points to the backseat.

You wheel yourself and your baggage up to the car, and Namjoon, ever the gentleman, hops out of the car to help you stuff your single suitcase into Yoongi’s ridiculously small boot. You’d always teased him for having such a tiny storage space. Told him he’d be a shitty murderer since he wouldn’t be able to hide a body in the back of his car.

You climb into the passenger seat of Yoongi’s car, and everything feels uncomfortably familiar. You had always dreaded returning, promising to yourself that you never would, for that feeling of nostalgia crawling up your skin is simply too taxing on you. The dice that hang from Yoongi’s front mirror haven’t changed, though they’re definitely a bit browner than they used to be. His seats are the same level of worn, feel loved and familiar under your fingertips as you run them across the leather. One look in the backseat and you can still make out the stain from when Yoongi decided to drink five bottles of RedBull in one sitting, spot the missing lever in the backseat that prevents the back right window from being rolled down. One look in the backseat and images flash across your mind, images of the two of you giggling as you secretly made love in the backseat of his car, images of you falling asleep on his shoulder during one of your many road trips.

“Been a while, hey?” Namjoon asks, breaking the silence and catching your attention. “Where do you want me to drop you off? Your parents live around here, don’t they…?”

“Not my parents’. I don’t want to bother them,” you say quickly. “Yoongi’s, if that’s alright.”

“Fine and dandy by me,” Namjoon says. He gives your shoulder a nudge, warm smile on his face. “Hey, cheer up a bit, will you? You’re back, it’s nearly Christmas, and everyone’s feeling festive as fuck. No need to be all sad and mopey, alright?”

You muster up a tense smile at his words just to get him to politely shut up, not wanting to hear another word about you being back. You’re well aware that you’re here.

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you, you know,” Namjoon says. “Not since you graduated and flew off to God-knows-where. Bet you’re making millions now, hey? CEO of some high-tech company that I’ve never heard of.”

You chuckle, appreciative of the effort Namjoon is making to keep you engaged. This mindless chatter thing, it’s kind of nice. A bit redundant, but nice. “I wish.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’re doing much better than you’re letting on. I mean, you left, and we’re all still stuck here, working menial jobs as we live our everyday lives. Did college disappoint you that much?”

“No,” you say, answers short and quick. Namjoon can be the one doing all of the talking. That, you’re fine with.

“I should hope so. God, those were the best years of my damn life. We had so much fun. I still remember that time that you and Yoongi played beer-pong half-naked at that one party. That was so hilarious. The two of you kept complaining about how the splash from the ball was getting you guys all wet,” Namjoon reminisces, laughing at the memory. “Man, Seokjin was livid when he saw the two of you doing that together. Nearly flipped the whole damn table over.”

The mention of his name renders you speechless as a terrible taste enters your mouth, one your tongue can’t get rid of. You’ve done so well at repressing the memories of him, tainted with love and loss, but all it takes is one mention from Namjoon’s big mouth to have them all coming back up again, like vomit.

Your knee-jerk reaction to the sound of his name as the picture of Seokjin in all of his glory flashes through your mind is to cough. Violently, too. Namjoon immediately slows down as he pats your back through your dry-heaving.

“Whoa, you okay? Don’t die on me now, you just got here. What will Yoongi say if I arrive at his house with your dead body?” Namjoon asks, alarmed. “Was it something I said?”

You shake your head furiously, still recovering, not wanting him to think it was his fault. It’s yours, really. Yours for coming back. Yours for not knowing what to do when you did. Yours for thinking about him when you know he’s not thinking about you. Not anymore.

“It wasn’t you, no. Just… some spit went down the wrong tube, that’s all,” you lie.

“Man, I hate when shit like that happens,” Namjoon says, shaking his head. “It’s such a pain. I feel like I’m dying when really, my body’s just playing a mean prank on me.”

You chuckle helplessly, unable to respond as thoughts of him plague your mind. God, what’s wrong with you? Why are you still thinking about him? It’s been five years, five years of repressed memories and vows that you would never make the same mistakes. Five years of a new life, new friends, new home, one where you don’t have to dwell on the past, where you can finally start living in the moment.

But being back here, it’s like living in the past. It’s like being trapped in a world you no longer control. You used to rule everything here, crown on your head and him by your side, but now, you’re just a bystander.

You never saw Yoongi’s house before you left. He had an apartment all throughout university, right near campus, one that you knew like the back of your hand from how often you were over there. But then you graduated, packed your bags and never looked back, and you never got to see Yoongi’s house. He was so proud of it, too, when he scored a lease right after commencement. Told you all about it. You remember him being particularly excited about finally being allowed a pet. Kid’s wanted a dog all of his life.

Even in the darkness, Yoongi’s house emanates an aura that closely resembles the person residing within it. It’s a small building, fake black shutters on the sides of each of the white-rimmed windows. Small, a little lopsided, but it looks more like a home than a house, even from the outside. Yoongi’s done well. You know he has, because even though this house isn’t the biggest, isn’t the most expensive, it’s pretty and quaint and cozy, all things that a house should be. That a home should be.

“You’ve reached your destination,” Namjoon says in his best automated-female-robot voice, breaking as he reaches Yoongi’s driveway. “Here we are. Nerd Central, as I like to call it.”

You allow yourself to chuckle at Namjoon’s words as you get out, the outside lights your only source of illumination as you make your way to the back of the car, where your lone suitcase is. Namjoon gets out too, just to help you yank it out of the tiny boot of the car.

“Wish I could stay with you guys, but you know what they say. Three’s a crowd. Also, I have a dog at home that needs feeding. So, gotta blast,” Namjoon says as he bids you not a goodbye, but a see you later, instead. “You’re hanging around for Hoseok’s Christmas party, right? I’m sure we’ll see each other before then, but just in case, I’ll see you there, too.”

Namjoon sends you a warm smile as you tentatively approach Yoongi’s front door. Once he sees you taking that first step, he’s revving up the engine of that beat-up Cadillac and zooming off into the night.

You raise your fist to the wood, letting it hover in front of the door. You pause. What if Yoongi’s asleep? He didn’t know that you were going to show up at his front door, lost and dazed. Maybe, he doesn’t want you here. That’s fine. You don’t want to be here either. You’re a phone call away from calling a lonely Uber and going back to the city, where you think you belong. You don’t need to be here. Why should you?

But then, before you can panic and run, all of the lights inside turn on, and the door opens.

“Y/N?” Yoongi asks when he sees you, but it’s not in disappointment at your sudden arrival. He looks surprised. Almost happy.

“Hey,” you reply, sheepish. “Sorry I didn’t warn you beforehand that I would show up at your door. I just didn’t want to bother my parents this late at night and I had nowhere else to go—”

Yoongi says nothing, just envelopes you into this bone-crushing hug that lets the warmth of his body seep into yours. It’s been too long since you’ve hugged somebody like this. Too long since you’ve seen Yoongi, relished in the company that you treasured for years on end. You almost thought you might have forgotten him.

“I missed you,” Yoongi breathes into your skin before he lets you go. “Never apologize for being here. Ever.”

“I just—I don’t want to intrude—”

“You’ll never be an intruder in my life, Y/N. You’re family,” Yoongi promises as he looks you dead in the eyes, hands firmly planted on your shoulders. “I’ll never be bothered by you.”

You force out a smile—the only thing you can do under Yoongi’s piercing gaze, full of love and concern. “I’ll be out of your hair by tomorrow, I promise. I can stay with my parents.”

Yoongi shakes his head, tugging you inside, suitcase skipping on the doorframe. “You can stay here for as long as you like, Y/N. I got room.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you send Yoongi a thankful smile as you take in the sight of his home. Just like you thought, it’s cozy, reeking of Yoongi’s ever-constant presence. The beige paint on the walls is chipping away at the corners, and his rug is covered in what you assume to be dog fur, judging by the sleeping creature taking up residence on Yoongi’s sofa as you pass by the living room. You never met Yoongi’s dog before you left.

“Don’t worry about Holly,” Yoongi says casually when he notices how she catches your eye. “She’ll go right back to sleep if you wake her up because she’s lazy as hell.”

“She reminds me of you,” you muse thoughtfully, making Yoongi chuckle. It’s always so uncanny, how dogs and their owners mirror each other’s personalities without them even trying. The dog picks you, not the other way around.

Yoongi brings you into his kitchen, recently renovated (the stainless steel oven glows in the fluorescence of the light above your heads, and everything just smells new), marching over to his fridge and whipping out a Cherry Coke. Old habits die hard, and Min Yoongi stocks up on so many Cherry Cokes that his dentist is probably crying themselves to sleep.

“Want? I remember you used to love these, back in the day,” Yoongi asks, shaking the can slightly as he offers it to you.

You started liking them because of Yoongi, in school. He discovered them one day in the vending machine outside of the building and instantly fell in love, easily wasting away dozens of dollars just to grab a can before class. And then suddenly, he had everyone hooked on them by college. Everyone who stayed, at least. You would dare each other to shake up the cans vigorously before drinking them, drop Mentos into the bottles and watch them explode. Seokjin used to order them for you at the local 50’s themed diner, ask for two straws so you could share the beverage over the booth.

Isn’t it strange how the smallest things can bring back the biggest memories?

Isn’t it strange how even if you leave, you’re never really gone, and how even if you forget, you’ll always end up remembering?

Dwelling on the past holds you back from seeing the future, but seeing the future makes you want to stay in the past.

“Sure,” you say, nodding as Yoongi holds it out for you, grabbing himself one while you take the can from his hand. Before opening it up, you tap on the top with your nail, three times in quick succession.

“You still do that? God, you’re weird,” Yoongi says when he notices, shaking his head fondly as he leads you to the living room and sits down on the couch, you following his actions. “I swear, you’re like the only person on Earth who taps their soda can before opening it. Actually, you and Seokjin both—”

And then Yoongi pauses as he looks up at you, apology written all over his face as he realizes what words just left his mouth. You see how his eyebrows drops, concern and regret washing over his face like a tidal wave as his lips part, unable to speak.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says, a hand resting on top of yours as you shake your head. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Yoongi,” you promise, the mention of his name less like a stab wound to the heart and more like a pinprick. Not enough to make you bleed, but just enough to let the pain reenter. “I’m over it, I swear.”

You’re a liar. You know that much.

“I’m going to have to see him here anyway, aren’t I?” You continue helpfully, not wanting your best friend to feel too bad about a slip of the tongue. “No point in trying to avoid it.”

“But I know that it’s still a sensitive topic, Y/N,” Yoongi says, and goddamn him for being your best friend, because it’s so easy for him to see right through you. “If it wasn’t, you’d have come back sooner.”

“I’m getting better,” you insist. It’s a lie, and you and Yoongi both know it. If you really were getting better, then why couldn’t you let it go? You haven’t forgiven yourself yet, and you haven’t forgotten him, either.

Just then, the creature between your bodies stirs, and a small dog lifts her head up in wonder and confusion. Through her hazy eyes, she meets yours, tilts her head, unable to recognize the face in front of her, and goes right back to sleep.

“Holly!” Yoongi says, but she doesn’t budge. “Holly!” He calls again. “Oh, fuck it, she won’t wake up. Here, you finished with that?” He motions to your Coke can, now empty. “Cool. I can take it and show you up to your room.”

Yoongi snatches it from your hand before you can protest him doing everything for you, tossing it casually into the trash can in his hallway (the high school basketball skills never left him, it seems) before leading you up his creaking stairs.

When you set foot on his second floor, it occurs to you how much you don’t know about him anymore.

Min Yoongi is a music producer, but you only figure that out now, after a quick peek into the office beside his bedroom. Littered along the walls inside are old vinyls, hot pink Post-Its with reminders and lyrics and chords. Three keyboards, at least, and an impressive display of some hefty desktops. Min Yoongi always liked music, but he studied business in university. You never knew what he dreamed of doing.

“That? Oh, it’s a fuckin’ mess in there,” Yoongi says, grimacing. “I really need to clean it up one of these days.”

“Is this what you do?” You ask, in awe.

“Yeah,” Yoongi shrugs. “It’s kind of nice, actually. Real cozy, and I get to work from home and it keeps my financially stable. Still in debt though, hashtag college.”

You laugh to yourself as Yoongi drags you out of what is easily your favorite room in the house, shows you to his single guest bedroom. It’s drab but comfortable, and easily more than what you could ever ask for.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you say as he leaves you to it, bidding you goodnight. “For all of this.”

Yoongi meets your eyes and you’ve never been too good at reading through the haze in his own, but you can make out the love he holds in his heart for you, the appreciation for the friendship that never left his side. He nods softly, so faintly that you almost can’t make it out, before closing the door behind him.

Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

The first thing that you do on your first official day back is go grocery shopping. Yoongi wrangles you out of bed surprisingly early for a guy who used to sleep right until his 2PM classes in college with little to no effort. He stands over your bed, tired eyes blinking away the sleep left in them as he comes into focus.

“What, did you think you’d just get to dissociate and stay holed up in my guest room?” Is the first thing he asks you, hands on his hips as he looks down at you. “Come on, lazy. I need to go grocery shopping and get some sort of host gift for Hoseok, since that’s a thing that you’re supposed to do when you go to a party.”

You groan, wrenching the covers from where they’re tucked in at the foot of the bed just so you can hide under them, shield your face from Yoongi’s leering gaze. Five more minutes, you mentally beg. Being back requires a lot of energy to face the horrors that each day brings forth.

You hear Yoongi’s footsteps as they get farther and farther away from you. “I’m leaving in thirty and I’m taking you with me, whether you like it or not. No makeup necessary. We’re going to the supermarket.” With that, the door slams shut, and you roll over onto your back and sigh.

Thirty minutes later you’re trudging outside and waiting on the step of Yoongi’s front porch as he bickers with Namjoon to get his car back. You don’t understand why you can’t just go grocery shopping later.

Eventually, Namjoon shows up outside Yoongi’s door in that poor old Cadillac, and Yoongi’s tugging on your arm to get you to stand up so you can actually start going places instead of lounging in the hermitage that is Yoongi’s house.

“Knew we’d see each other again, Y/N,” Namjoon says happily as you climb into the backseat of the car. “Are you guys dropping me back off at home first or do I get to third-wheel your platonic get-together?”

“I’m gonna drop you off at the curb and you can walk home, fucker,” Yoongi says, and Namjoon just laughs. He knows Yoongi too well. Yoongi’d never do that to him.

You end up swinging by Namjoon’s little flat in the center of town, dropping him off right outside the lobby with a goodbye and a “see you at Hoseok’s party tomorrow!” He waves happily as you drive off, and you realize that it’s been a while since you’ve seen people so full of love and light in this town. It’s been a while since you believed there was any of that in this place.

The grocery store is the same one that was there five years ago, down to the flickering sign that they never bothered to replace. It smells the same, reeks of cigarette smoke and metal, and it’s the strangest scent that feels like home thus far. You never thought this lone, run-down supermarket would mean so much to you. It’s decently packed, unsurprisingly so since it’s so close to the holidays—even people in this small little town have shit to do before Christmas is upon them. You manage to snatch the last small-sized grocery cart from the rack and wheel it back to Yoongi, who grins as he drops a full carton of apple cider into it, snagged from the display shelf in the entrance.

“You want anything while we’re here, Y/N?” Yoongi asks as you wheel into the store.

“No thank you,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m only going to be here for a few days—no point in buying me anything nice.”

Yoongi chuckles. “That’s exactly the point, you dumbass. You’re here and staying with me and as your proud best friend-slash-host, I feel morally obligated to buy you some nice things while we’re here. You can’t say no. That’s not allowed.”

“But I don’t want you to waste your money on anything for me,” you insist. Yoongi’s hardly paying attention to you, too busy inspecting a box of clementines. He shrugs and drops the entire thing into the cart.

“It’s not a waste if it’s on you,” Yoongi says, not even meeting your pleading eyes. “Come on, man,” he nudges your shoulder, “don’t you miss those shitty store-brand fake Doritos that taste like spray cheese on a corn chip? I know you do.”

Before you can protest, Yoongi’s tugging you and the cart towards the chips aisle and grabbing a family-size packet of those generic cheese chips that taste like cardboard and Cheetos. He cuts off all your indignant cries without any qualms, insisting that he can spare some spare change worth of shitty chips. If you won’t accept anything else from him, you’re forced to accept this.

You suppose it isn’t that bad that he’s buying you some of the chips that you lived off of during your college years, reaching down into the cart and opening the packet, allowing yourself to indulge in a few. Eating these chips is like eating garbage, but it’s garbage that’s strangely addicting. You don’t want to know what kinds of drugs are in these chips. Ignorance is bliss.

You and Yoongi parade around the grocery store happily as you finally learn what it’s like to let loose again, the tension from being back in the one place you swore you’d never return to leaving your shoulders. Being back here is finally starting to remind you of the good times rather than the bad ones, memories of you running down the aisles at midnight with your futures bright and your eyes brighter.

There’s not a place in this town that doesn’t remind you of him but that’s okay, because the memories you have of you and him together are better kept as dreams than nightmares.

“Which holiday cake says ‘Thanks for hosting this party even though we all drew straws and yours was the shortest so you had no choice’ best?” Yoongi asks when the two of you are staring over the mildly-refrigerated display of desserts and pastries. You had told Yoongi that cakes were foolproof host gifts, so here you are.

“You drew straws?” You ask in confusion. “I thought you guys liked hosting holiday parties.”

“We did,” Yoongi admits. “But that was before you left. You made hosting the holiday parties so easy, helping us with all of the invitations and decorations and planning. But then you left, and all of us realized that we didn’t really know how to uphold the tradition without you.”

Yoongi’s words leave you in a stunned silence as they sink in. When you left, you thought that you were doing everyone a favor. When you left, you didn’t think anyone would want you to stay, other than Yoongi and your parents, really. You thought that leaving would be best for you, for Seokjin, and for everyone else. You didn’t see a point in staying.

You didn’t realize that they would miss you.

You don’t realize that they miss you until you come back and they tell you that they do.

“Oh,” you say, speechless. “I didn’t think that you guys would miss me like that.”

“Y/N?”

You thought you’d be prepared to face him. You really did, because you wouldn’t have come back if you thought you weren’t. But when you make eye contact, meet his fluttering brown irises, and realize that even though your mind told you it was ready, your heart knows that it isn’t, and your heart knows better than anything else. Even the sound of his voice is enough to have sirens blare in your brain as the memories come flooding back.

He looks good. That might be the one of the worst parts of this whole thing, how fucking good he looks and how much of a mess you are in comparison. Seokjin is wearing a suit that fits him impossibly well, navy blue tailored in all of the right places, a red tie around his neck that compliments his skin tone impeccably well. It doesn’t look like he’s missed you a single bit, not from the way he holds his head high and radiates confidence.

You, on the other hand, are makeup-less, wearing the slouchiest clothes you packed—you thought you were just going grocery shopping, for fuck’s sake—and, quite frankly, look awful. You know you do. The past five years haven’t been kind to you, and it shows, from your slightly crooked haircut to the bags under your eyes.

It’s evident to see how much of a toll your relationship (or lack thereof) has taken on the both of you.

“How about this chocolate one, Y/N?” Yoongi’s voice interrupts your whirring brain. “Y/N?” His words trail off when he sees who’s in front of you.

“Seokjin?” You ask, as if your eyes are deceiving you, like he’s not really there, in all of his glory.

He looks just as beautiful as the day he left you. And that’s the worst part.

“When did—when did—you came back?” Seokjin says, unable to form much of a coherent sentence as the sight of you registers.

“Believe me, I didn’t think I would either,” you joke, unsure on how to break the block of ice that’s formed between the two of you.

“I just…” Seokjin says, trailing off. “I didn’t know you were coming back.”

“You don’t know a lot of things about me, Seokjin,” you say, and sure, it’s bitter and petty and biting, but it’s the truth. Seokjin deserves to take at least some of the blame for how you’ve been moping about for the past five years. It’s only fair.

Clearly, your words catch Seokjin off guard. His mouth parts to say something but nothing can come out, and the sight makes you feel a little bolder.

“I—”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?” Yoongi asks, coming up behind you with a frozen chocolate cake in hand. Seokjin’s bright expression immediately dims when he sees him approaching, standing next to you protectively. “Oh, hey, Seokjin.”

“Hey, Yoongi. Are the two of you—?”

“I invited Y/N back for Hoseok’s Christmas party, but I didn’t think she’d actually come,” Yoongi jokes, earning an indignant nudge in his shoulder from your elbow.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Seokjin comments mindlessly, words stiff. “I didn’t know that you had invited her.”

“I know.” Yoongi nods.

“Oh,” Seokjin says, taken aback by Yoongi’s bluntness. You’ve always loved that about him. “Well, it’s nice to have you back, Y/N. Are you—”

“We’re staying together,” you say, knowing fully well that it’ll tick Seokjin off even though he has no right to be pissed. “If that’s what you wanted to know.”

Seokjin’s entire body stiffens. “Okay, then. I’ll see you both at Hoseok’s party tomorrow night, then?”

“Looking forward to it,” Yoongi says, nodding his head. Seokjin sends the two of you a tight smile, grin forced, before turning around and walking the other way.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in when he’s out of sight, sighing deeply as you mentally calm your racing heart. No matter how long it will be, it will always be too soon to see him again.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Yoongi asks, voice laced with concern as he carefully places the cake in the cart, his other hand resting soothingly on your shoulder. “I didn’t know he’d be here. I’m sorry.”

“I’m okay,” you respond. “Thanks for talking to him for me.”

“You know I’d do anything for you,” Yoongi promises. “But I’m glad you’re feeling alright. It’s good practice for tomorrow, since you’ll have to see him there anyway.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Yoongi,” you assure him. “I’m not a snowflake. I won’t melt under his touch.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, sighing. “I just don’t want him to break your heart again.”

The last time you went to a Christmas party hosted by one of your friends, you were a senior in college, on your way to getting your fucking Bachelor’s, and a little bit drunk off of a couple of beers you had had prior to arriving. Being mildly buzzed is really the only way to show up to a Christmas party, when you think about it.

This time, there’s no alcohol in your system, though you may as well chug a glass of wine or two anyway with all of the jitters running through your body. You could do with something ease your worries.

You don’t know why you’re so nervous. You really don’t. You’ve been psyching yourself up for this single event ever since you hit ‘Checkout’ on the airline website, confirming your plane ticket. This Christmas party is, essentially, the only reason why you’re back. A chance to briefly reconnect with everyone before flying off to the city you now come home, unable to tolerate being here any more than you absolutely have to.

The mere thought of having to face Seokjin again makes you want to stay at home.

But you’ll never get over it if you can’t learn to deal with it, and you’ll never learn to deal with it if you can’t will yourself to. Fear is but a word, and you are but a girl.

So, you pull your makeup out of your single suitcase, put on your nicest dress, and decide that maybe, if all goes well, you’ll be able to go back to your anonymous city life in peace. You’ll be able to leave this all behind without the regrets you left after you moved, find peace in new beginnings outside of the town that’s caged you in.

“Ready to go?” Yoongi asks as he knocks on the doorframe of his guest bedroom, alerting you of his presence. You look up, mascara finished on only one eye, and see him standing happily outside your room in what is the ugliest Christmas sweater you’ve ever laid eyes on.

Oh, right. You forgot that these parties involved a running tradition of ugly Christmas sweaters.

You got rid of all of yours when you left.

“Clearly not,” Yoongi comments to himself, answering his own question as you raise a brow in objection. “You actually look nice. The fuck?”

“Am I not allowed to look nice for a Christmas party?” You cry as you apply the rest of your mascara, trying not to blink so you don’t go smudging it everywhere.

“No,” Yoongi says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Jesus, it’s been five years and already you forget what is easily the most important tradition of our annual Christmas bashes? Leaving really did change you.”

You pout in protest to your words, setting your makeup aside and standing up. You dust off your dress just to make a show of how nice you look. Yoongi rolls his eyes in what can only be interpreted as an absolute fondness, shaking his head as he taps his fingers on your doorframe on his way downstairs. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, and for a second, you think you might actually look like you belong here.

---

“Move out the way, people! Please get out of my way! I have a delicacy in my hand!” Yoongi shrieks as he walks into Hoseok’s house, making periodic beeping noises, just in case he needs to alert anyone further of his presence. He’s carrying the store-bought cake in both hands and treating it like it’s the world’s most precious diamond. In a way, shitty, high-calorie store-bought cake kind of is.

The first thing that you hear when you step inside behind Yoongi, not wanting to prevent him from getting the cake in his hands to its designated spot, is Hoseok’s boisterous laugh. It’s been five years but even you can’t forget the sound of it ringing through your ears like jingle bells. He must be on the floor at the sight of Yoongi in all of his glory, parading through his house with a cake in his hands, ugly Christmas sweater and Santa hat proudly on. You’d be laughing, too.

It’s so strange, being back. It feels like something of an out-of-body experience, where you’re watching everything happen but can’t picture yourself in the scenario. Like you’re watching a movie play out right before your eyes, only you’re one of extras. In books, they always talk about time freezing but the two main characters continue on, kissing and all of that nonsense as the world stops for them. But when you’re here, and you’re standing in the middle of Hoseok’s living room, surrounded by people who don’t have nearly as many regrets as you do, it feels like you’re the frozen one. Like you’re stuck in this awful suspended animation as everything around you keeps going, as the world turns but leaves you behind.

“Y/N!” Hoseok shouts, breaking you out of your trance. “Is that really you? My God, you haven’t changed a bit!”

Seeing Hoseok may very well be the most refreshing breath of air you’ve taken this entire trip. You only have good memories with him, thoughts of only laughter and light when you think back to university with him. Hoseok was the one person you knew you’d end up missing when you left.

“Hey, Hoseok,” you say, though you doubt he hears you over the sound of terrible karaoke to Mariah Carey on his television and the crushing of your bones as he envelopes you in a hug. “It’s been a while.”

“What?” Hoseok shouts.

“It’s been a while!” You repeat yourself, a little louder. It looks like you’ll be doing that a lot this evening.

“Sure has!” Hoseok says, swishing the glass of champagne in his hand. “Wow, adult life is really treating you well! You’ve never looked better, you know!”

“Thanks! You look nice, too!” You reply back, already getting tired of shouting.

“I know! Hey, where’s your ugly Christmas sweater? Come on, you invented that tradition!” Hoseok asks, nudging you when he finally takes in your outfit of the night.

You shrug helplessly, unable to produce a good enough excuse for your attire. You’re about to make something up when Hoseok bids you goodbye, trampling off to someone else.

Turning the corner, you enter Hoseok’s crowded kitchen, filled with people you recognize and people you don’t as they help themselves to the monster of a buffet Hoseok has on his counter. It looks like you could probably have a three-course meal just from picking one thing from each plate, but suddenly your appetite is gone and all you feel is a craving for something to drink.

Some alcohol could really do you good, you think as you help yourself to a beer. You have the slightest feeling that you might need to loosen up for tonight, just so you can survive. You don’t remember these parties being this overwhelming, but then again, being back has never been that overwhelming either. Not until now.

With a full bottle of beer in your stomach, you feel a little better. A little safer, really, knowing that now you can blame the words that leave your mouth on the alcohol rather than on you.

Seokjin’s here, somewhere, but you haven’t seen him yet and if you get lucky, you won’t have to see him at all. You’ll distract yourself with mindless chatter, hide in Hoseok’s bathroom until he leaves. If you’re lucky, he’ll swing in and out of this party in an hour or so, busy with some business thing he’s probably keeping himself occupied with. If you’re lucky, you’ll come to this Christmas party, celebrate with your old friends, and leave with no intent on returning. If you’re lucky, all will go as planned.

Somehow, someway, Namjoon manages to convince you to join in on an awful cover of something by Michael Bublé—you can’t really make out much over the sound of everyone else’s screaming, or maybe it’s all just noise from your unyielding mind—on Hoseok’s karaoke machine with some guy named Jungkook. You’ve never met him before, but he seems nice enough and clearly enjoys giving it all to Christmas-flavored karaoke. They sing at the top of their lungs and you hide behind their booming voices, loud enough for them to hear you but nobody else.

It may as well be the most fun you’ve had in a long while, terrifyingly so. Having fun is fine, but ever since you left, you’ve developed a fear of attachment. A fear of commitment, to a person, to a place, to a thing. With fun comes memories, and with memories comes a promise to stay. And that’s a promise you don’t think you can keep.

A clearly drunk Yoongi wraps his arm around you halfway through the night, when it may as well already be Christmas Eve with how late it’s getting. He’s swinging an empty wine glass in his hand and has a loopy smile on his face, one you’re far too familiar with to think that it could be anything else but the face of pure haziness. He turns his head to look at you, eyes crinkling up in delight.

“Enjoying yourself so far, Y/N?” He asks, slurring his words slightly.

“Doing swell,” you say, laughing at the sight of your best friend in front of you. “You okay there, hot stuff?”

Yoongi nods but then has to grab onto you for balance, and so you take the liberty to leading him to the somehow empty couch in Hoseok’s living room so you can set him down. Drunk Yoongi was mildly fun to take care of during your college years, but now that you’re older, you find that it’s just more of a hassle.

“Come on, big guy,” you say, encouraging him as he collapses onto Hoseok’s couch cushions. As you’re leaning over him, making sure he’s not too drunk, you finally meet eyes.

Seokjin looks like a fish out of water in this place, the only other person in the entire vicinity who deigned not to wear an ugly Christmas sweater, staring at you with his pupils dilated and eyes blown wide. Even in the dim light of the fairy lights that Hoseok’s strung up and the flickering bulbs of his lamps, he glows.

You turn away first, not wanting to pay him too much attention as you turn your focus on Yoongi, who’s weakly clawing at your shoulder. You call Namjoon over and ask him to help deal with the hammered mess that is Min Yoongi, and dash outside, desperate for a breath of fresh air.

You knew this was a bad idea,. You get outside and heave, exhaling heavily as you trip over your own feet on the way down to Hoseok’s lawn. Eventually, you settle down in the grass, allowing yourself to decompress. You should have known being back wouldn’t be good for you. It’s all still too much, too much thought and too much regret and too much fear. Repression is only as strong as you are, and you’ve never been very strong.

You tilt your head up, allowing the cool winter breeze to send goosebumps along your skin as you stare up into the night sky. At least there’s one thing in your life that’s constant.

You don’t know how long you’re out here, immune to what most others would call the biting cold of December nights, staring up at the stars like a hopeless romantic, wishing for something more. You? You’re just hopeless.

“Too crowded?”

You turn your head to the source of the voice, and see Seokjin stepping outside as well, softly closing Hoseok’s front door behind him.

“I guess,” you say, turning back to face the road. “I just needed to clear my mind, that’s all.”

“I noticed that you were gone,” Seokjin says, sitting down in the grass a safe distance away from you. The two of you are no longer on the basis where you can sit together and act like everything’s fine. It’s not. Not between the two of you. “I don’t know if it was because of me, but I wanted to come check on you.”

“I appreciate that,” you say, and for once, you actually mean it.

“Are you and Yoongi a thing?” Seokjin asks, and your heart breaks, because even five years ago you knew that this was always his biggest fear. His worst nightmare.

“We’re not,” you tell him. “We never have been.”

It’s an answer to the question he should have asked you five years ago, a response to what he should have told you instead of deciding that enough was enough. Relationships end because people don’t communicate, and the biggest flaw that the two of you share is that neither of you have ever been good at expressing yourselves.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin says. “I shouldn’t have doubted that.”

“I wish you would have listened to me,” you admit, and oh God, the words feel like vomit coming up your throat. Like one wrong move, and it’ll all come spilling out. You knew you shouldn’t have come back. You should have known the night would end like this, end with you crying about what-ifs and could-haves and wishing that you’d have never returned.

“Me too.”

Silence settles upon you, like dust after a storm. You welcome it with open arms, because sometimes silence is all you need to hear. In the right moments, it’s so much louder than noise.

“How long are you staying?” Seokjin asks you, still avoiding your gaze. One small turn to face him, and you see that he’s staring up at the stars, thumbs twiddling in his lap. He’s always looked at the same sky that you have. You just didn’t notice.

“I’m leaving in two days,” you say, already looking forward to your December 26th ticket back home.

Is the city really a home if the people that make one aren’t there?

“Oh,” Seokjin says, somewhat dejectedly. “I was hoping you’d stick around for a bit longer.”

“Why?” You ask, finally turning to him. “Why now? Why are you asking me to stay, five years too late?”

Seokjin meets your eyes, and it doesn’t look like he’s crying now but it looks like he has before. He’s got the same pain that you do, visible in his chocolate irises. You just never took the time to see it.

“Because five years too late, I have things that I want to say to you. That I should have said, but didn’t. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You can leave. I won’t hold you back, like I did before. I won’t make the same mistakes,” he says, and it sounds like a swear, a vow, a promise. It’s frightening, because it makes your heart skip a beat as the hopeless romantic in you think that he means it.

He didn’t mean it last time.

“I can’t stay, Seokjin,” you tell him. “It’s too painful for me here. Everything reminds me of you.”

“Everything here reminds me of you, too,” he admits, and the words catch you off-guard, take you aback. Suddenly, the stars aren’t as important anymore.

Everything seems to pale in comparison to the thought that he might have missed you too.

“Don’t stay for me,” Seokjin says, changing his mind. “Just… just meet me? At the diner. Tomorrow, for lunch. I’ll be there at noon. You don’t have to come,” he says, standing up. “Don’t feel obligated to show. I know that—I know that you feel a lot of pressure to please others, but I want you to think about yourself. Just this once.”

His footsteps crinkle in the frozen grass as he heads back inside, leaving you left with nothing but yourself, your thoughts, and the stars.

When you tell Yoongi that you’re going out at 11:45 in the morning of Christmas Eve, he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, bewilderment riddling his features. But you’re already running late and you’ll chicken out if you think too hard about this, so you bid him a goodbye and run down to the nearest bus stop, leaving him speechless in his own doorway.

You still remember the bus route like the back of your hand. Five years and not a damn thing has changed, same stops, same creak of the wheels. Being on this bus, sitting alone in the back corner (nobody wants to travel on Christmas Eve), you almost feel like yourself again. Like you’re back in college, and the world that surrounds you is warm and bright. Like anything is possible.

You wish it were the same now. But the town that you’re in brings back only memories you wish would go away. Even during Christmas, the lights are dim and the sky is dull and nothing really feels worth celebrating anymore.

It’s muscle memory that tells you to ring the bell so you can get off. Nothing else, not when your mind is cloudy and fogged over with worry and regret. Your brain just barely recognizes the buildings the bus passes by, telling your hand to press the button when it realizes you’re at your stop. That’s what most things are these days, really. Muscle memory that just tells you to do things you already remember. That’s what these past five years have been.

You get off at the stop, staring right at the glowing 50’s diner in front of you. It’s all lit up like a Christmas tree, holiday lights dancing to the beat of the corny Christmas music that you can hear coming from inside. It’s so festive, so cheerful, a beacon of happiness in this dreary town, bleak without the smiles of rambunctious college teens to cheer it up.

Almost. Almost is such a shitty word because it’s never enough. Almost is what almost stops you from reaching out to open the door, what makes you pause right outside, unsure if it’s worth taking another step. You don’t know what lies on the other side of the door, what future awaits you in the booth that used to be yours. It’s 12:06 and Seokjin is definitely there, definitely waiting for a girl that won’t come for him.

You almost leave out of spite, out of revenge. It’s high time he get a taste of his own medicine.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to step backwards, turn around and get on a bus ride home. Can’t bring yourself to leave him sitting there, alone on Christmas Eve of all days, hopeless and hopeful all at the same time. Because if you run from this then you’ll never stop. All you know how to do is run, run away from the problems that plague you, the memories that weigh you down. When was the last time you faced something head on? When was the last time that you decided that you were stronger than your weaknesses?

You take that first step, and it almost feels like a new beginning. Almost.

He sits in the same booth that you always sat in. Old habits die hard and these are some of the oldest. Some things that you just can’t let go of, no matter how hard you try. You walk over to him, positive that it’s your legs, not your heart that draws you towards him.

“Hey,” you say softly, sitting down across from him.

Seokjin’s expression lights up at the sight of you. “Hey,” he says, keeping his eyes glued to the menu. You already know what he’s going to order. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Me neither,” you admit helplessly. The only thing you can do these days is lie, but perhaps for today, it’d be worth it to tell the truth.

The waitress swings by to ask for you drink orders, and without thinking, Seokjin orders two Cherry Cokes. Muscle memory.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Seokjin says immediately afterwards. “I didn’t know if you wanted something different. I shouldn’t have just—”

He’s starting to sound like you, apologetic and worrisome and concerned.

“It’s fine, Seokjin,” you say. “Cherry Cokes are still my favorite.”

“Mine too,” Seokjin replies, breathing out a sigh of relief.

It’s so strange to see him like this, so hesitant and tentative when all your life, you’ve known him as confident and boisterous and unabashedly himself. Like your mere presence sends him spinning back into uncertainty, akin to something of a first date.

In a way, this kind of is one.

“Do you, uh—do you still get the same stuff here? Menu hasn’t changed,” he asks you, chipping away at the ice that’s settled between the two of you with a toothpick. This is so fucking sad.

“I guess,” you say, and you tell your heart not to skip a beat at the thought of him still remembering your exact order, like these five years haven’t happened and everything is back to the way it was. “Do you?”

“I haven’t been here in five years,” Seokjin admits. “But I do.”

“Seokjin, I—”

“I missed you,” Seokjin interrupts, voice soft and shaky. It’s so quiet you almost don’t hear him over the sound of the traffic outside. “I know you think I didn’t, but I did.”

He renders you almost entirely speechless, brain unable to process his sentences as it comes up with blanks, response empty.

“It hasn’t been the same here, since you left. For any of us,” he tells you, and the sincerity in his voice is such a change from the way you last heard it, five years ago when he was screaming his head off at you and telling you that your relationship was useless.

The waitress arrives at the most inopportune (or opportune) time with your Cherry Cokes, two cans beside two ice-filled cups. She places them down on your table and Seokjin orders for the both of you, request rolling off his tongue like nothing’s changed. When she leaves, you’re stuck in silence again as the two of you grab your respective drinks, tapping on the lid with your fingernails, out of habit.

You do it at the exact same time.

Old habits die hard.

If Seokjin notices he makes no mention of it, just pours the beverage into his cup and begins drinking.

“I wasn’t going to come back,” you tell him honestly, because it’s high time that you started being truthful to yourself. “I didn’t want to run the risk of seeing you again.”

“I don’t blame you,” Seokjin says, chuckling to himself. It’s like looking back on the past five years of your life through the lens of an older, wiser version of yourself. One that recognizes that things aren’t always as they seem, and that just because something ends doesn’t mean it’s gone. “I broke your heart.”

Hearing the words from him almost make it feel like it never happened. Like your heart never shattered in his palms a week before graduation. Like he didn’t know how delicate it was to begin with, how one wrong move and it would all come crashing down.

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“Me too.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” You ask, hoping to change the somber mood, though you doubt anything either of you say could make so much as a dent in it.

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin says again, and oh God, you’re getting sick of hearing him apologize. Hearing the words tumble off of his tongue again and again because he feels like he can’t say it enough. “I’m sorry for being jealous and untrusting and unloving. I’m sorry for not treating you with the respect you deserved. You could have done so much better.”

“But you were the best I could have done,” you say before you can stop yourself from spiraling back down into a hole of regret, love and loss. “You were all I ever asked for.”

“And I couldn’t even give you that,” Seokjin says.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Seokjin,” you tell him. “I’m over it.” And for once, you finally believe yourself when the words spill out. You finally think that you’re right.

“I’ll always worry about you, Y/N,” Seokjin responds. “I love you.”

Sirens go off as your entire heart halts. “Seokjin?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “And it’s okay if you don’t love me back, because I don’t deserve your love after the way I treated you. I’m not saying this to make you stay, because you should do what’s best for you. Not for me. You’re so kind to others, Y/N. I want you to be kind to yourself, too.”

Blinking furiously, you will yourself to make the tears go away, because goddamnit. Goddamn Kim Seokjin, who will always make you swoon and fall in love with him, even after five years of solitude, of separation. Goddamn Kim Seokjin who is warm and bright and owns up to his mistakes, cares more about you than you probably care about yourself. Goddamn it, because even after five years worth of a broken heart all it takes is one phrase to begin to patch it up.

“You can’t just say things like that,” you whisper to yourself. “How do you think it makes me feel?”

“I shouldn’t have told you, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“Seokjin, I—”

Your food arrives, a welcome interruption in an afternoon that feels like it’s just getting worse and worse. You drown yourself in the meal in front of you, food the only thing that can take your mind off of the thumping of your own heart and the unadulterated sadness that leaves your mouth. There are so many what-ifs and could-haves in this world, but dwelling on the past makes you scared of the future. And you don’t want to be scared anymore.

“Thanks for doing this for me,” Seokjin says when the meal is over, the bill is paid. He walks you out of the diner, staying a safe distance away to make you as comfortable as possible. You come to the realization that you’re only comfortable when you’re near him. “You’ve always been so selfless.”

“Seokjin, I just wanted to thank you,” you say as you reach the bus stop. “For all of this. For still loving me after I thought you stopped.”

“I’ll never stop,” he says. “I don’t—I don’t know if you’ll come back again once you leave in a few days, but I want you to know that seeing you again has made me truly happy, even if our old memories bring us only sadness.”

“I’m working on that,” you tell him, and you finally fucking meet his eyes. For the first time in a long time, there is hope and wonder laced in gold among his irises, promises that you know he will give his life to keep. “I don’t think our old memories bring me sadness anymore. I think I’m finally starting to see the happiness within them.”

December 26th rolls around and there’s a whole party sending you off, bringing you to the train station so that everyone can say their goodbyes.

What’s different this time is that you’ve promised to come back, something that three days ago, you could have never imagined. This time, you look forward to the day where you step off of the platform and see Yoongi waiting for you, gummy smile wide on his face as he sees you. Maybe you’ll see Seokjin, instead, and he’ll be waiting to pick you up in his fancy car and take you anywhere you want to go.

Yoongi pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, makes you swear that it’ll be less than five years he’ll have to wait for your return. You promise to call him more, write to him often, keep in touch as much as possible. That was one mistake you made, cutting yourself off from your old life entirely. Sometimes memories are worth remembering, after all.

When you wrap your arms around Seokjin, the world finally starts to feel like home beneath your fingertips. You begin to believe that one day, you’ll rule the world again, with him by your side just like how it was always supposed to be.

“I love you,” Seokjin murmurs into your ear before you let go. “When you get back, we can do whatever you want to do. I’ll show you the whole world, if you ask me to.”

You love him too, you just haven’t said it yet. You don’t need to. He already knows, from the way you’ve promised to return, from how you nod happily when he says he’ll see you again.

The train arrives and you look back on your farewell party, stepping off of the run-down station and into the car. One look through the window and they’re waving to you, and as you wave back, you know that no matter how far you go, you’ll always come back home.

⇒ hmu with feedback or just talk to me here!

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hamiltimebinches · 6 years

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Vampire! Lafayette x Reader: A Deadly Mistake

A/n: I’m sorry for punching you in the gut with feels but this is the one of the only ways I can see this ending. Not all stories have happy endings to them anyways.

Timeline: Canon

Warnings: Angst

Request: “I really love ur Vampire Laf x reader! May I request one where the reader’s family was killed by a vampire and they meet one at a party which is Laf and she thought he was a human until in one point of the story??? Thanks!!!”

Requested by: Anonymous

Words: 2,500

Growing up an orphan is difficult for anyone. At least if you’re a male you could easily get a job, well, actually that’s not the case. If you’re a male you can get a job easier than a female orphan would be able to. I was lucky enough to be taken in by a family that was close to mine. The family was especially willing to take me in when they heard of my parents bloody demise.

The family that had taken me in, the Bakers, were much more wealthy than my family had been and are invited to many more parties than my parents together attended in their lives. Unfortunately though because this family took me in I have to attend parties with them. Every single party and there’s at least three a month. Now, this wouldn’t be a problem for anyone else but for me it is, seeing that I’m not a very social person. Never have been, especially not after the incident.

So, here I am attending another one of the parties the Bakers have been invited too. A cool breeze tousled my hair and goosebumps to crawl up my arms. The breeze wafted the pleasant smell of the gourmet dishes prepared by the chefs. All around men were happily drinking and discussing politics while the women gossiped in small clusters. The candles cast a warm and charming glow in the courtyard.

Why one would throw a party during the night outside is beyond me. It’s not particularly cold I just happen to be a lighter dress tonight. It was unbearably hot today and I didn’t think it would cool down this much when I was getting ready.

I warily surveyed my surroundings. I happen to be standing off to one of the sides, where the party really isn’t taking place. This is what it’s always like, when I go to parties I always stand off to the side. I act as though a wall flower that no one gives even a second of their attention. It doesn’t really bother me all that much though. Half the time I don’t even want to be at the party I just go because I have to.

I wrapped my arms around myself, debating whether or not it would be a wise idea to slip into the house. If I get caught I can always claim that my little sister ran into the building and I was searching for her so I could bring her back out. I was just about to try and slip into the house unnoticed when someone walked up to me. That’s new, no one ever bothers with me.

“Pardon me, Miss, but you seem chilled.” I looked up to see a handsome male somewhere around my age standing a polite distance away and holding out a jacket to me. I noticed that the jacket must of been one he was wearing with his outfit. I gingerly took the jacket from his hand, just waiting for him to snatch it back. He never did though. The fabric was nice and seemed warm. I slowly slipped it on.

“Thank you Sir- Sir...” I’m just now realizing I have no clue who this kind man is. He seems friendly enough. “Lafayette. You’re very welcome, I’d hate for such a pretty lady as yourself to freeze.” He said. His accent is different, it’s not from here. It’s some kind of European accent, maybe French. This Lafayette is quite the charmer isn’t he.

“It’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance Lafayette. I am (Y/n) (L/n).” I said politely. “Likewise.” He responded, momentarily holding my hand and placing a soft kiss upon its knuckles. In the warmth of his jacket I slowly started stop shivering, it was very kind of him to let me use it. “Ms. (L/n), how would you like to accompany me on a stroll?” Lafayette questioned casually. That’s surprising, not only does someone take notice of me for once but they are now asking me to walk with them. It’s strange, no one has ever done something like this before. Especially because of the rumors...

Lafayette waited patiently for me to answer. What should I tell him, should I accept or not. I would like to accept, it gets lonely standing all on my own all the time, but now that I have the chance to get away from that loneliness I’m hesitating. I don’t want to accept because if he does rumors surely will start spreading about him. None of them being good. The only reason he’s probably over here with me is because he hasn’t heard of all those nasty rumors that make people avoid me. I should decline his offer, yet when I look at his kind face and the hopeful twinkle in his eyes I know I can’t resist the urge to accept.

“I’d love to, Lafayette.”

I smiled as I thought back to that night, it feels like it was in another life time even though it’s only been a year. “What are you smiling about, my love?” Lafayette questioned as he slid a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I’m just thinking back to when we met. It feels so long ago now.” I answered glancing up into his deep brown eyes. “It has not been that long (Y/n), but I understand how you feel.”

With a small smile I looked down, the beautiful grass and flowers of the meadow coming into view. This is his and my secret place, a place we go to get away from the world. It’s a meadow in a little clearing in the heart of the woods not too far away from the estate I live in. The two of us had stumbled upon it once as we took a stroll around the land the family I stay with owns, obviously we took a little detour in the woods though.

“Laf, why do you love me? Me of all people.” I asked suddenly, it’s been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve always wondered why he’d ever want to court someone like me. There’s so many better candidates for someone as amazing as him. He could have any girl he wants yet he chose me. An orphan who most look down upon.

“Whatever do you mean?” Lafayette asked, genuinely surprised. “Why would you choose me of all people? Most people look down upon me because of what happened to my parents, because I’m an orphan. There’s all these terrible rumors about me because of how my parents died. How they were killed by a vampire, which is true, but there’s so many terrible rumors about me playing a part in their deaths. Some people say that I asked the vampire to kill them, that I’m the reason they’re dead. Others say that I am a vampire and have some how kept it a secret. It’s all so horrible, why would you associate yourself with someone like me?”

Tears threatened to fall as I said all those things. This isn’t the first time Lafayette has heard me mention what happened to my parents and the rumors but it is the first time I’ve let him know about my insecurity. “(Y/n), I don’t care about the rumors, I love you. I love you for who you are. I don’t want any other girl than you.” He said, his voice sincere as he cupped his hands around my face. As a stray tear fell from my eye he wiped away and kissed my forehead.

“Aww, how sweet.” Lafayette jumped away from me as a new voice came into the picture. I followed his stunned stare to see a man standing not too far off at the edge of the woods. “Lee, what are you doing here?” Lafayette growled an icy glare directed at the new comer. This guy gave me an uneasy feeling.

“Jeez, I heard the rumors but I never thought they were true. I guess some things that those stupid women gossip about are true.” This new comer, Lee, said with a chuckle. “What’s going on?” I whispered but I got no reply. “I’m actually having trouble believing this, you’re courting that girl who’s family got killed by stupid old Miller. This is quite the scandal if you ask me, but I suppose this young lady doesn’t know the truth about you. After all, she’d leave you in an instant if she knew the truth.” Lee continued on with a malicious grin.

“What is he talking about Lafayette?” I asked quietly. “Yes, Lafayette, what am I talking about? Why don’t you shed some light upon this situation for us?” Lee mocked with a dark chuckle. “It’s nothing (Y/n), he’s just a fool playing games.” Lafayette answered but for some reason I don’t feel like he’s telling me the truth. “Nothing?” Lee questioned with a growl, his eyes glowing crimson. I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth. Not only are his eyes red but I can now clearly see fangs protruding from his mouth. This man is a vampire!

Lee sighed. “It’s all fine and dandy that you’ve fallen in love Lafayette, but at least you should let her know that you’re one of us before wooing her.” He said with a wave of his hand. I slowly looked towards Lafayette, hoping with every bit of my being that this was just some bad dream. He was looking away. “I- Is it true?” I asked him. “Yes.” Lafayette said in a dejected sigh.

How could he?! He fell in love with me knowing fully well how much I loath vampires because of what they did to my family. He fell in love with me knowing fully well that he was deceiving me about what he really is. He knew very well how much it would kill me to know I was in love with a vampire and he still stayed with me.

“Now that all that is out of the way... We really should get down to business now that she knows what you are. As you know, Lafayette it is illegal for any vampire to fall in love with a human and that it is punishable by death but I am feeling gracious today. This can end in three ways, two of them working in your favor.” Lee said, clasping his hands together. A sadistic smile finding its way to his face.

“Now, if you don’t want me to tell the authorities you can either kill this young lady or you can turn her. If you refuse both of those the young lady will still lose her life and you will too. Choose wisely.” My eyes widened at the offer, so this is how it is. I’m either going to end up dead or one of the things I hate with all of my being.

“And what if I refuse all three options?” Lafayette questioned through clenched teeth. I can now clearly see his fangs, how could lie to me for so long? How could he make me think he’s something that he isn’t? If he truly loved me he would have left me alone, he had to have known that one day he’d get caught.

“You can try. The moment you do anything rash though is the moment your pretty lady’s fate is decided. One of the many vampires that are surrounding this area will get her away from you and suck every drop of blood from her body. You possibly can’t have thought that I would’ve come here without back up, if you did you must be truly foolish.” Lee said with a chuckle as he leaned up against one of the many trees. Lafayette looked around and hung his head, a distraught look that only I could see crossed his face.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, turning to me. “I can’t have any of them touch you though, this is the only way.” Lafayette said as he put his hands on my shoulders, pulling me closer. I tensed up, realizing that this is it. I am either about to loose my life or be turned. Both of those are terrible possibilities. How could this happen to me? He moved closer to my neck, I tried to get away, it didn’t work. I let out a little shriek as his fangs pierced my neck. I could feel the blood as it flowed out of the wound. My vision blurred and darkened and I lost consciousness.

“Ugh, my head.” I groaned as I sat up slowly. What happened? I thought as I surveyed my surroundings. I am in the meadow, how did I get here? I can’t remember. How late is it? The sun seems to be setting. How long have I been out here? When did I get out here? I suppose that doesn’t matter, I have to get going though. If I don’t get moving I’ll end up getting caught out here in the dark. But wait... I feel like I got here when it was dark so how on earth could it be sunset? That’s when it all came flooding back.

I slowly looked down at myself and let out a scream. All over my dress was blood, an unimaginable amount of blood. It really did happen then, it wasn’t all some crazy dream. I let out another scream, this one being of anger and despair. I heard ruffling in the grass beside me. I looked over. There, getting into a sitting position, was Lafayette. There were red tears stains on his cheeks and he looked like a mess. If I’m still alive it means he didn’t kill me, he turned me. Turned me into something I loath.

“You’re awake.” Lafayette said, relief in his voice. “Listen, (Y/n), I’m so sorry. I wish things didn’t have to turn out this way. But it was the only solution, if I didn’t turn you you were going to die. I couldn’t let you die, not like that.” He apologized, choking up as tears filled his eyes and threatened to spill. In any other situation it would have broken my heart to see that but all I can feel right now is anger.

“You should have just let me die. This, to me, is a fate worse than death.” I growled as I stood up. He stood up too. “What are you talking about? You don’t mean that.” Lafayette said but even then I could tell that he didn’t even believe it. “I do and I mean this too: stay away from me, I don’t want to see you ever again. And if I do? I won’t hesitate to kill you.” I said, surprisingly keeping my tone calm. “Wah- (Y/n)- please! Don’t leave me!” Lafayette exclaimed, reaching out for me. I stepped out of reach and turned around but before I walked away I said one last thing to him that to this day, hundreds of years later, do not regret.

“Goodbye, Lafayette.”

#request #hamiltime #hamilton #hamilton imagine #hamilton imagines #hamilton fanfiction #hamilton one shot #hamilton x reader #lafayette imagine #marquis de Lafayette #lafayette #lafayette fanfiction #lafayette x reader #lafayette one shot

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justanotherwaywarddaughter · 8 years

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Hell On Heels

Characters: Cas x Sister!Reader, Sam, Dean, and a bit of John

Word Count: 4443

Warnings: Sassy reader, Cas is an awkward little nugget, canon typical violence

Summary: This is part two to “Spread the Word Around– the Girl’s Back in Town”. The reader reveals a bit of her history. Meanwhile, Team Free Will, along with its newest member, set out to take on what should be a relatively easy case. Things do not go as planned, which works to the benefit of a certain shy angel.

A/N: So this is long overdue. Sorry. It’s a bit disjointed because I started it and then stopped and worked on something else... Apologies for that. I started out with this imagine in mind, and it kinda grew from there. Italics are reader’s thoughts. Thinking of making this a series. Let me know what you think. Hope you enjoy! As always, thanks for reading! Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated.

Read Part 1 here.

The protesting creak of a nearby door coupled with the muted sound of feet thudding down the hallway pulled you from your midnight reverie. Making your way quietly to the open doorway of your room, you scanned the hallway for the source of the noises, your eyes landing on a retreating figure of over six feet. With an annoyed groan, you made you way closer to the hulking mass that was trying to sneak down the hall like a teenager after curfew.

Let’s play guess the idiot. Too tall to be Cas. Can’t tell if it’s Sam or Dean yet from this far away, though he’s stumbling, whoever he is. Most likely Dean, in from a night out that hopefully won’t make me an aunt.

“Have a good time, did ya, brother mine?” you asked with a smirk, switching on the overhead lights. At the sound of your voice, the figure spun, albeit clumsily, to see who made the noise. With one hand to his head and the other groping the wall for support, Sam took a less than elegant stumble backward.

“Y/N? What’re you doooin up ssso late?” he slurred with a bleary smile. Sam was apparently a happy drunk, you mused, shaking off the surprise of being met by your youngest brother rather than your oldest one. Moving toward you, the moose of a man began to teeter.

“Whoa, there, Sammy. Slow your roll. There’s no way I can pick you and me both up off of this floor if you go all timber on me,” you cautioned. “Let’s get your ass to bed. I’ll lecture you in the morning.”

“Mmmm’kay, Y/N. I’m ssleeepy anyway,” he said in an exaggerated whisper.

How much liquor does it even take to get Samsquatch here drunk? Dear Lord, I hate to even imagine.

You trailed a tromping Sam back to his room, made him take off his shoes before he got in bed, and sat the ibuprofen he kept in his nightstand out for him when he woke up.

Damn grown man needs to be told to take his shoes off before he gets in bed. How the hell did he even get this drunk? And how can a guy that hits his head on ceiling fans regularly look so much like a little kid?

Sam was snuggled under the covers with a peaceful look on his face. Cracking one eye open, he attempted to whisper again, “Y/N, why were you even up? Ssssssssomething wrong?”

And on that he chooses to have a little clarity. The man that didn’t even remember his head– not his feet– goes on the pillow has the sense about him to ask why I’m up at this ungodly hour. Figures. Intuitive little shit.

“Shut up, Sammy. You’re drunk. Go to sleep,” you grumbled, hating that your little brother, even in his inebriated state, had managed to see that something was wrong.

Sighing, you made your way back to your room and plopped down face-first on the bed. You’d had a lot of these nights lately.

I am normally not a philosophical person, but there’s something about randomly escaping hell that makes a person ponder a few things. It all started when I was born… Kidding. Kinda.

Mostly, you thought about what had gotten you to this point. As Dean often reminded people, hunters never got to be kids, and you were no exception. From the moment you’d been big enough to carry a sawed-off, you’d been sleuthing, shooting, and salting. That’s not to say you didn’t enjoy it– most of the time.

Despite growing up a hunter, you’d been relatively sheltered from heartache until your mom had passed. She went down in typical hunter fashion, sacrificing herself to kill the demon that had possessed her. I come by this hero complex honest.

You did the best you could after her death, giving her a hunter’s funeral in the sticks somewhere in Alabama. It was the first time you were truly alone, and you didn’t know how to handle it. Cue obligatory reckless streak.

Amidst said reckless streak, you’d come upon daddy dearest. Yes. None other than John Winchester. You’d planned to ignore him, laying low until you knocked off that vetala. Well, as per usual, things didn’t go as planned; one vetala turned out to be two, and you were in need of a little saving. Enter John. He’d been on the same hunt– Shocker– and had come prepared. Curse you and your research, John Winchester. Needless to say, he saved your ass. What stung was that he had no clue who you were.

Well, as the whiskey got to flowing that night– Don’t judge me. I had a rough day. Whiskey is the grownup version of a blanky– so did the truth bombs. One right after the other. By the end of the night, you were both spent. He had a daughter. You had a near-death experience. I feel like we were pretty equal there. You know, on the whole shock factor thing. You agreed to stay in touch.

And so you did. You’d occasionally update each other on your cases, swapping information and tips, sharing about your lives and the years you’d missed together, and growing comfortable enough to joke around. It was all fine and dandy until your old man called you up for a little help on a case. Sam and Dean were in school, and he needed an extra pair of hands.

Probably just a couple of vamps, he said. Probably new changelings, he said. We’ll probably be done before lunch, he said. It’ll be easy, he said.

Turns out John was wrong. What he thought was a small nest– one, maybe two, tops– turned out to be about fifteen. Why they were all together and how they managed to tolerate each other is still a mystery.

Nest, my ass. Frigging hive is what it was.

You two gave it your damnedest. You held your own for a while, the quick movements of your machetes creating a steady rhythm of whooshing sounds punctuated by the sickening crunch of metal on bone as they sliced through the air and hit their targets. The two of you moved in tandem, as though you’d been working together your whole life.

Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose.

Things were going great. Until they weren’t. All it took was a slight hesitation; one small slip of the hand. You were down to the last two; one for each of you. You squared up to smaller of the two, leaving John with his more even match. The fights that ensued were anything but easy. The two of you were already exhausted, covered in blood, and running on fumes. To say you were less than sharp was more than fair. You were both sloppy, but you managed to get the job done.

You got all the way back to the impala, congratulating yourselves on a job well done, before you noticed the blood seeping through the left leg of John’s jeans. And, holy hell, was there a lot of it. Femoral artery injuries can be a bitch. Exsanguination is not a painful death, but it’s a slow one; a death that fills its victims with a sense of hopelessness.

No matter how tightly you compressed. No matter how many layers of bandages and fast food napkins and shirt hems you piled on. No matter how fast you drove. It didn’t make a difference. That was the palest you’d ever seen him, his head lulled over, his short, rapid breaths creating little puffs of fog on the window. Your first thought was about the boys. You thought, I can’t let them go through what I went through. They already lost their mom. What’ll happen to them?

In your muddled mind, there was only one valid course of action. You found the nearest crossroads and did what had to be done. You made a deal– his life for yours. And the hero complex rears its ugly head, yet again. Here’s to hoping Sam and Dean never find out. But, if we’re being honest here, I was pissed as he– well… You get the point. I was really mad when he ended up down under literally right after me. I mean, how is that fair? To him, to me, to the boys? Fate has a twisted sense of humor.

This hunt and the literal hell you’d gone through after plagued your dreams when you did sleep.

When you couldn’t sleep, which was most of the time, you wondered who pulled you out of hell and why. At the same time, you were trying to adjust to life with your two hulking brothers and their ever so heavenly resident angel.

My brain has too many tabs open. I even think about overthinking.

Sam and Dean were loud, obnoxious, and messy. The bunker had been their man cave until you came along, and they were still getting used to how the fairer sex preferred to live. You know, sans unpleasant aromas, constant nudity, and leftovers that could be mistaken for a science project. I know, I know. It’s a lot to ask. Apparently I’m high maintenance.

To add to your frustration, Cas would not speak to you. Would. Not. Do. It. He still popped in from time to time. He just never spoke to you.

Okay, buddy, I’m not sure what your definition of ‘later’ is, but it’s been like a month, and I still have no clue who this damn pizza guy is and what the hell he taught you. Am I allowed to cuss at a celestial being? Ah, well. Who cares? What are they gonna do, send me to hell?

You snorted at your own joke, noticing the time flashing on your alarm clock. It’s an acceptable time for a normal human being to be awake. I need coffee.

You padded down the hall to the kitchen, grumbling greetings at a half-asleep Dean. You sat down with your oversized mug of coffee– Ah, sweet nectar of life–and skimmed the local newspaper. Seeing an article detailing a possible serial killer that had targeted upper-class men in swanky bars, you sighed, thunking your coffee cup down on the scarred table. You read further into the article, which chronicled methodology– cracked chests, hearts squeezed to mush, and bodies drained down to the last pint.

This is our kind of weird. At least this one is close to home.

“Sam. Dean. Wake up. Rise and shine, boys!” you shouted from your seat.

“What the hell do you want at seven in the morning on a Saturday? This is my day off,” Dean grumbled as he entered the room. Sam, who had skipped his morning run– probably because of the massive hangover he had. No judgement. Just saying.– came in just moments after, his hair sticking up in wild tufts, eyes matted and sleepy.

“Do you have to be so loud? Let’s all use our inside voices today,” he suggested, moving to the coffee pot.

“I think I have something. It could be nothing, but it’s at our back door, so I’d rather be safe than sorry. Police are investigating a possible serial killer, but I’ve never heard of a serial killer that squeezes hearts and sucks blood just for shits and giggles,” you explained.

“We can think about it when we get there. We need see more of what’s going on before we jump to conclusions anyway,” Dean replied, leaning on the door jamb.

“Finally learn your lesson about being prepared, eh, Dean?” Sam mocked, wincing at the bitterness of the brew in his cup.

“I HAD THE DAMN SIREN I WOULD’VE BEEN FINE,” Dean insisted. Seeing Sam’s wince at his volume, he asked with a smug grin,” DOES MY YELLING BOTHER YOU?”

“Boys, boys. Settle down. If you keep this arguing up, I swear to you, you’ll regret it,” you cautioned, your lack of sleep causing your already thin patience to wane further.

“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do?” Dean tossed over his shoulder as he went to get his grab bag.

That is it. Last straw. Overgrown brats of brothers. You will rue the day you didn’t heed my words, Winchester. You asked for this.

Seeing your glare morph into a smirk, Sam must’ve known you were planning to make Dean pay in a big way, because he said, “You two are so much alike.”

“I know. It’s like we’re related or something,” you quipped, jumping up from the table to stash your go bag in Baby’s trunk.

How can two people make such a short car ride so unbearable?

From the second you shut the car doors– slammed, according to Dean– your brothers had been bickering. The music was too loud. The sound of Sam’s keyboard clicking was annoying. The heat was too hot. The air was too cold. Dean’s driving wasn’t up to par. The list goes on. Any attempts from you to referee were promptly shut down with a double brother glare.

Oh, Castiel, mighty angel of the Lord, with your majestic and fluffy wings, please, if it’s not too much trouble, CAN YOU GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE AND USE YOUR PROFOUND BOND WITH DEAN TO MAKE HIM SHUT THE HELL UP? Thank you.

You praised the gods when you pulled up in front of the county courthouse, parallel parking on Main Street. Gee, thanks for the help, Cas.

You stopped and spun around, taking in your surroundings. Blink and you’ll miss downtown.

Putting on your best confident I-belong-here-I’m-in-charge look, you strode purposefully through the door, approaching the sweet-looking old secretary sitting behind the front desk. “Hi there… Margery,” you said, reading her nametag. You flashed your forged credentials. “I’m Special Agent Page, and these are my associates, Agents Bonham and Plant. We’ve been called in to have a look at this series of murders you have. Could you please point me in the direction of some case files? We just need copies. We wouldn’t want to trouble you all. Be in your hair and all that.”

“Why, of course I will. Let me just grab those for you. It’s no trouble at all,” she said with a smile.

You twiddled your thumbs waiting for Margery to come back, hoping the bickering would hold off at least until you left the courthouse. No such luck. Apparently, Sam was too close to Dean and was breathing down his neck. Amidst their squabble, Cas decided to make an appearance, earning a muffled scream from you. Margery chose this moment to reappear.

“Weren’t there only three of you before?” she asked, beginning to look suspicious.

“Yes, ma’am, but this is our new trainee, Agent Jones. He was letting our supervisor know we’d arrived. Isn’t that right, Jones?” you replied, elbowing the angel in the ribs to cue his response.

You honest to God chose this moment to show up? Say something, dammit. Before she realizes we’re frauds and calls us on it. It’s not that hard. Open your mouth. Use your words.

“That is correct,” he grumbled.

“I’ll just take those files from you. You should hear back from us within a few hours,” you said, prying the files from her still suspicious hands and making a beeline for the door.

“The next time you all pull something like that, I will end your lives, bring you back, and end them again. Am I clear?” you huffed, slamming the door to the impala, on purpose this time. Seeing Cas reluctantly slide in beside you, you addressed him. And you! I asked for your help earlier, and you left me high and dry. They are driving me insane in the membrane. Insane in the brain! Shit, now I have that song stuck in my head. Now see what you’ve done?

The car ride to a local diner was blissfully quiet. Apparently, death threats have a calming effect on this crowd. Duly noted.

After poring over the files Margery had been so kind as to give you, you all decided you were dealing with a lamia. You discussed the best means of disposal over your pie, ignoring the stares of the other patrons. Your rag tag little team had noodled out a tentative plan: you’d get all dolled up and go into the bar, look around, and signal the guys when you saw anything suspicious; one of the guys would act as bait, luring the lamia into a conveniently secluded alley, and the other two would be ready with a blessed knife and some rosemary, just in case. Sounds simple enough. I am gonna need some supplies though. I tell ya. I can’t even remember the last time I got all dolled up.

“Oh, brother mine!” Your sing-songy tone was bound to get on Dean’s nerves, but you needed a ride. “How much do you love me?”

“Depends on why you’re asking,” he said hesitantly.

“Oh, it’s nothing major… I just need a ride to town. I have to grab a few things before we head back out for the hunt tonight,” you said sweetly, twirling a lock of hair around your finger, trying to look innocent. Okay. Cue puppy dog eyes.

“Fine,” he huffed. “Let me get my keys. Sam! Ca–“ He cut off abruptly when Cas, ever ignorant of the concept of personal space, popped up comically close to Dean’s face. I thought I was your favorite Winchester? Too bad, angel boy. We could’ve had some fun.

Apparently Cas hadn’t headed your warnings to stay out of your head. He turned a deep crimson, cleared his throat, and stepped back from your eldest brother, leaving a very confused but relieved Dean to wonder what could possibly make an angel blush. Still, all you got was side eye.

“You were about to call for me?” Cas asked Dean, his gaze flitting around the room, landing on anything but you.

So that’s how it’s gonna be. Alright. Let me think about what I want to get while we’re out. A short dress? I think yes. Tight or loose? Who am I kidding? Tight it is. I’ll need some new underwear… These aren’t really suited for a tight dress– unsightly lines and all that. Where will I keep my gun?

The angel’s complexion rivaled that of a tomato at this point, and bless Dean’s soul, he spoke up. Spontaneous combustion isn’t easy to clean up, and you didn’t relish the thought of scraping bits of Cas off the wall. “Yeah…” he started hesitantly. “I just wanted to let you and Sam know Y/N and I are headed to town. Keep us posted if anything changes.”

“We will. I believe Sam and I are about to depart to ask for the blessing of a priest on your knife,” Cas said in reply.

As Dean nodded and turned to go, you mirrored his movements, throwing a wink over your shoulder at the flustered angel. I’m on a roll. Got Cas on my way to get Dean.

The unshakeable, unphasable Dean Winchester was shell shocked by the end of your little trip. He’d been subjected to horrors even his stint in hell hadn’t shown him. The dad bench at Victoria’s secret? Yeah, he’d been plucked from that with an, “I need your opinion, little brother.” The lounge chairs outside Sephora? Yeah, he’d been jerked from those to “help swatch”. The cologne display in your favorite department store? Yeah, he’d been yanked from there to assess which dress was “sexy but not slutty”. Even the sanctuary of the food court, practically holy ground, wasn’t safe. Apparently, a sale on shoes trumped his nachos. He drove home on autopilot, eyes focused on the road, doing the speed limit for once. You chuckled to yourself. Serves him right.

As soon as you pulled in the garage, you hopped out of the car, dashing toward the bathroom with your new purchases. So much to do, so little time. I’m not usually a frilly person, but doesn’t every girl get a little excited when she has an excuse to shake it up every now and then? You passed a very confused Sam and Cas, who questioned Dean about the haunted look in his eyes. Putting on your playlist and laughing when “Hell on Heels” came on, you settled in for the long haul.

Three hours. Three hours is how long it took to create your cascading ringlets, to carefully carve your face with the sticky tubes and pots you’d tested on Dean’s forearm, to strap on those ungodly undergarments, and to stuff yourself into a dress that left very little to the imagination. Now if you could just figure out how to fasten your shoes without busting out of said dress like biscuits out of their can. “Help! I need someone to…” you trailed off, seeing your brothers, shadowed by their angel friend, come crashing through the door.

“You said, ‘help’ and we assumed the worst,” Sam shrugged.

Dean let out a whistle. “Damn, Sam, our sister is a girl after all. How nice. Now cover up.” His glare rivaled the one he’d had in place when you dragged him to look at earrings, insisting he hold them up to his ear so you could see how they hung. He shed his outer shirt, wrapping it backward around your chest.

“This is the point, Dean. Gotta blend in; make ‘em think I’m a working girl,” you chuckled, tossing the flannel off. “You know, the classy kind.”

“Can you even sit down?” Sam asked.

“No. Sitting is for quitters.” You snatched your shoes from the box, and asked sweetly, “Now, who will be a dear and help me put these on?”

How many Winchesters does it take to get a pair of shoes on?

Castiel did his signature head-turn-squint, and you exasperatedly answered his nonverbal question, “It’s a joke, Cas. Take my word for it.”

You shakily walked around, testing your balance. You know how sailors get sea legs? I think women get heel legs. Someone make me one of those honorary pins.

Meanwhile, the heavenly being in the room had yet to take his eyes off you. You’re giving me siren flashbacks here. Stop being creepy and say something, weirdo. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, my fine feathered friend. This confused squint you ignored, opting to hobble to the garage.

You piled into the impala, praying the whole way the stitching in your dress was as strong as your love of your modesty, what little you’d preserved, anyway. The ride there was short and silent, oddly enough. You’d been over the plan at least a hundred times in your mind. You knew exactly what to do.

But, because nothing can ever be simple, especially when Winchesters are involved, things got messy. Long story short, you ended up flat on your ass in the alley behind the bar, the lamia above you. “Come on, now. Let’s settle this like adults. Woman to woman,” you choked out. It’s rather hard to speak when there’s a Grecian monster limiting your air supply.

“I can’t let some hunter ruin my fun, now can I?” she trilled, releasing her grip by a fraction of an inch.

“I mean, you can do whatever you want,” you said with a wink.

“What I want to do is this,” she said with a crooked smile. You could feel the skin on your chest tightening, being pulled taut as your chest began to crack open, ribs straining and bending before snapping. You choked out a half-formed scream as your air supply was firmly cut off. The edges of your vision tinged black as you struggled to hang on to consciousness.

The cavalry has arrived! Your little team made quick work of killing the lamia, Sam landing a solid stab to the back of her neck while she was focused on you, Dean and Cas not far behind.

“Damn it, Sam! Did you have to go for the throat? I’m covered in blood,” you grumbled as you swiped at the sticky rust colored liquid before deciding it was hopeless. “Where were you all? Better late than never, I guess.”

“What a shame. I guess that means your dress is donezo.” Dean grinned at the thought, ignoring your question.

You just rolled your eyes, and hopped up, taking inventory of your injuries. Seeing that you’d only sustained some broken ribs and shallow scratches, you celebrated. “Bam, bitches! Me, two. Death, ZERO. Sorry I couldn’t be your main squeeze, sweetie,” you spat at the lifeless lump of a lamia.

“SHHH DON’T SAY THAT HE’LL HEAR YOU!” Dean cautioned with wide eyes.

“Good. We can go for pizza. I hear he’s into that. I’m starving,” you replied, kicking off your shoes for the walk back to the car.

“When are you not starving?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“Stop that. It’s creepy. Just shut up and feed me.” You looked around, wondering aloud, “Where’d angel boy go?”

“Guess you scared him off, Y/N. Shame. I’d like to have him for a brother-in-law,” Sam teased, attempting to ruffle your hair.

Joke’s on you, dude. My hair is so full of hairspray and blood, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t get it to mess up if you took a belt grinder to it. You chuckled, seeing Sam’s disgusted look when he pulled his hand back and wiped it on his shirt. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Seriously, though, we’re getting food, right?”

Post pizza pitstop, Dean, who was keyed up from the hunt and his near death experience at the mall, decided to burn some rubber. Partially to burn off steam; partially to get back at you. You were white-knuckling it on the bench seat. Cas, take the wheel.

“I do not understand why you feel as though I should pilot this vehicle,” your resident angel said dryly, appearing in the seat next to you.

“God! You scared me,” you squealed, your fist connecting with his upper arm, your attention quickly returning to your brothers in the front seat when Dean swerved in reaction to the new addition to the car.

This is it. This is the end. It won’t be a monster that gets me. It’ll be a damn tree.

“We have been over this. I am no longer God,” Castiel huffed, rubbing his shoulder. You looked over to him, catching a glimpse of the look he was giving you.

Did he just roll his freaking eyes at me? Are you serious? Like, I’m the one that taught him that. Oh, he’s gonna pay for that one. And not in the good kind of way.

At that, the angel blushed, turning his head to look out the window, his hand tentatively finding yours in the backseat. You laced his fingers with yours, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

Sure took you long enough.

At that, Cas laughed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, earning a groan from both of your brothers.

“Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives,” Dean mocked.

“Wait, how do you know that quote? It’s from a daytime soap opera. Dean, are you cheating on Dr. Sexy?” Sam snickered.

“You realize that understanding the reference indicates that you also enjoy daytime television, right, Sam?” Cas interjected.

“Sometimes it pays to know a guy that can read minds,” you said with a smile, bursting into laughter, stopping short when your ribs protested. It was worth it. High five for making them squirm.

Your brothers in the front seat and your angel in the back. What more could a girl ask for?

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