#like remember how justin bieber said he didn’t even know all the words to the parts of the song he didn’t sing

[katnissgirlsmakedo]

remember despacito? that was so. 😬. the state of pop music was so dire in 2017 we had to resort to a song that featured justin bieber…

[abeautylives]

Times I Remember Well

(and Some That I Don’t)

Part 1

author’s note: I’m really excited to have something to share with you guys. It’s written from a diff POV than I usually do, but my main character girly pop has a lot of personality 😘 Big big big thank you to bff @samkiszkasfacialhair for all the help, the ideas, and the motivation 🤍

pairing: female!OCxkiszkas (just read it, you’ll figure it out)

time frame: 2010-2014

word count: 5.7k this part

warnings: language, illicit substance use, rampant teenage emotions and delulu, kissing, josh 🥺

I don’t actually remember the day I met Sam Kiszka.

Not the date, or even the day of the week. I do know what year it was, because it was the year my mom moved us to this quaint (read: weird) little town. Charming, but weird. And boring.

Boring, until I met Sam.

Eleven-year-old Sam was a menace, but twelve-year-old me was bored. So obviously, we became the best of friends. He taught me how to light a firecracker, I had an endless supply of Barbies to blow up. He showed me how to slip out of my bedroom window without making a sound, I told him how to impress girls without grossing them out. In our early teenage years, he introduced me to drugs and I taught him how to unclasp a bra. Chill out, it was weed, and I wasn’t even wearing the bra.

My mom just loved that I’d made such a great friend.

The first time I was allowed to play at his house I met his sister, who was closer to my age, but it was too late. Sam and I were already attached at the hip, though mine sat an inch or two higher than his for a couple of years, until a growth spurt and puberty eventually left him with the height advantage.

That was when he stopped calling me by my name, and started calling me Tiny. Like I said, a menace.

“You’re the coolest girl I know, even if you’re vertically challenged.”

Please note: the first time he said this to me, he had finally just surpassed me in height by half an inch.

Then of course, there were the twins. You’d think the eldest siblings would not have become a big part of my life, but they were just always around, and actually liked hanging out with their baby brother. Close knit family and all that. It’s weird, right? At the wise and worldly age of twelve, the two fourteen-year-olds terrified me. Josh and Jake were both scary in their own way to a pubescent girl on the cusp of teenager-dom. Jake was pretty quiet, but his ego was not. He was hot, okay? In like, a Justin Bieber-y way but also kind of a jock-y way, but a jock with a guitar. Whatever, I’m only human.

Josh was… well, Josh was Josh. Unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and not necessarily in a good way. He was loud, like, all the time. He never seemed to stop talking and ended most of his sentences at an eardrum-piercing decibel level. Fortunately, or not, he didn’t get hot until I was old enough to obsess over it.

I’m sure I didn’t speak a coherent word to either of them the entire first year of my friendship with Sam.

I have a million memories of the time I spent with Sam and his family, but I have no recollection of the day I fell in love with Josh Kiszka.

But once I did, it was a deep, obsessive kind of love that only a teenager can achieve. One day he was my best friend’s eccentric older brother and the next…

Well, the next he was a rockstar.

I mentioned the whole jock with a guitar thing that Jake had going on, and that really hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the way Josh had transformed from a loud, annoying theater kid to a genuine, full blown vocalist. I mean, for a while he was both.

When they first started playing together, I only gave a shit because they’d roped Sam into it too and it took up way too much of his time. I’d watch them play, and they weren’t… bad? They weren’t good either. My time could have been better spent watching R rated movies (scandalous) or, I don’t know, doing my homework. But nope! We were in a band now.

They practiced, a lot. It felt like all they did was practice, for at least a couple years. And I just watched dutifully, every weekend of every month of every year. They did get better.

But here’s the thing. I was there for all of it. I was there the day Jake ran into the living room and snatched Sam up by the back of his shirt. Come on Sammy boy, we need you on bass. I was there the day their buddy Kyle sat down at the drum kit and completed the ensemble. (I was also there the day he got replaced.) And of course, I was there the day Josh pushed his voice past the instruments and the amps, and went from a weak imitation of a rock singer to something else all together. Something totally and completely him.

That’s not the day I fell in love with him (I would’ve remembered), but it was the first time he had ever… impressed me. And not that I cared, but Jake was impressed too. I saw it on his face.

It was cute. In like, a sweet, brotherly way.

Okay, anyway! The combination of Jake’s skill and Josh’s raw talent got them noticed. (Sammy’s talent would develop over time, I didn’t forget about him. Sam, you’re the most talented one in the band.) And then they were playing actual gigs. I wasn’t allowed to go to most of those early ones, because for some reason these dive bars were permitting these pint sized, teenage Zeppelin wannabes to perform at them. Old people like our parents loved that shit. The locals went crazy for it.

They played Fischer Hall a couple times, right there in town, but around their third or fourth gig there, Josh had unbuttoned the flowy, floral, women’s blouse he was wearing and took to the stage with it hanging open, beaded necklaces draped down his bare chest and curly hair wild.

Why was he sort of… ripped? How had I never noticed? Were his pants always so tight? And low cut? I was sweating. I didn’t even know he was literally cosplaying Robert Plant.

Did I fall in love with him that night? Of course not, I already told you I don’t remember the day that happened.

The Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I left my house around 8:30 to head to Sam’s. To my mom, this was an average Saturday night - I spent nearly all of them at Sam’s house, where his parents were always home. Ya know, or so mine thought. Whether the Kiszkas were actually home or not, we hung out in the garage.

That’s not as weird as it sounds, it was a really cool garage. With furniture and everything. And their instruments, a lot of them. I don’t know how every one of these guys knew how to play every instrument packed into that room, but they did. And by the time I was sixteen, they were really almost good at it.

(Jake was good. Very good… I told you he was hot.)

This particular Saturday though, this was going to be the Saturday that changed my life. And I wanted to dress the part.

In hindsight, I wore something I’d probably worn a hundred times. Then why had it taken me so long to get ready? I changed my jeans twice, my shirt at least ten times, added a sweater, threw it back on my bed, added a flannel, tossed that to the floor. Picked it back up and shoved my arms in, made sure it hung off my shoulder just so. Shoulders are sexy, right? Do guys like shoulders? Oh shit, what do guys even like?

Anyway, I left the house looking exactly as I always did.

I rode my bike slowly that night, already hyper aware of the sweat under my arms.

So I slowed my pedaling even further. When the house came into view, I hopped off the bike and walked it up the drive before tossing it to the grass outside the garage.

Okay, knock twice and just go in.

That’s what everyone always did, what I always did. Just knock twice then lift the door. Everyone was always welcome, come on in!

So go in, idiot.

Look, I did it eventually. Just like always, knock knock, lift the door enough to slip underneath, let it close behind me. Except when it rolled back to the ground, I lost my nerve and stood frozen there for a few seconds too long.

Sam called me out, because he’s a menace.

“The hell are you doing, Tiny? We started without you.”

I moved farther into the space, eyes bouncing between my options through the soft haze of pungent smoke that already hung over the room. There was my usual spot - on the floor, next to the spot where Sam sat cross-legged, his long frame folded and bent, his sharp elbows resting on his knees as he waited for the joint to make its way back to him.

Not tonight, I’m on a mission.

Jake sat to his left, in a well-worn, floral print wingback chair. It was comfortable enough for one person, decades of weight softening the strength of the cushion’s springs before it ever came to live in this particular garage. Jake’s body was slung over it, legs thrown haphazardly over an arm while his own were wrapped around an acoustic guitar. Typical. He tipped his chin at me from under the brim of a bucket hat, then nodded towards the floor beside him. Holy shit, does he want me to sit by him?! I think my fingers lifted in a barely-there wave but I’m not really sure they were functioning correctly.

Okay focus, he did not. Does not. Not in this lifetime.

Still without his next hit, Sam glanced up at me over his shoulder and patted the threadbare throw rug next to him. “Sit down weirdo, you’re making me paranoid.”

Nerves that I’d never, never, felt before in this room fluttered through my stomach, I let my gaze meet Sam’s before continuing the search for a place to plant myself.

There was really only one option left - the couch - and both ends were already occupied. Our friend Danny (Kyle’s replacement, sorry Kyle) was in the process of melting into the corner closest to Jake, his eyes glassy and already tinged pink when he looked up at me. Only his eyebrows lifted in greeting before he mirrored Sam’s offer to sit next to him, tapping the cushion beside him.

This is fine, totally normal! Danny was Sam’s other half. Well, his other male half. I guess we were in thirds. A trio.

I accepted the offering, stepping around the coffee table, scarred with years worth of “art” - drawings and carvings, a few discreet dirty words etched into the surface in between - to drop to the middle of the couch. One of Sam’s brows tipped up when I met his eyes again, his expression asking, “Dude, what gives?”

“Hey, you’re here!” He noticed me, finally. Silvery smoke crept from between his lips as he grinned, and I watched transfixed when they pursed together and he blew a cloud toward the ceiling. My stare was broken when he leaned across the table and passed the joint to an impatient Sam, but to the delight of the butterflies going nuts in the pit of my stomach, he leaned back into the cushions and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind me. EEEEP!

“Hey-“ It was a humiliating and unsexy croak, and I quickly cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey, Josh. Hi.”

His long hair was pulled back, his entire face available for my viewing pleasure. Things were going perfectly.

I joined the rotation, the weed easing the flutters caused by sitting so close to Josh, but amplifying the feeling that the other three were watching and wondering why I was acting so strange.

They were not. They were high.

Aside from the stray curious eyebrow from my BFF across the table, they actually acted like nothing was abnormal about my seating choice, even when I started to scooch imperceptibly to my left every time I adjusted the way I was sitting.

Pulled my legs up under me? Scooch.

Dropped them down so my sneakers met the cement? Scooch.

Crossed my left ankle over my right knee? Scooch.

It was totally subtle.

“I’m gonna grab a pop, you guys want anything?” Sam startled me out of a pleasant reverie as he jumped up from the floor, but my freaking knee was touching Josh’s knee! No I don’t want anything, I have everything I need right here!

It turned out Sam was a huge knee blocker. He gripped me by an elbow and peeled me from the couch as the others murmured at our retreating backs about needing Doritos. He pushed me out the side door and towards the house and had me in the kitchen before I could even tell him he was ruining everything!

Even through bleary, hooded eyes, his death glare was brutal.

“Saaammmmm, what are you doing?!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing, T?”

More glaring. He broke the glare-off first, jerking his head to the side to flick his hair out of his eyes and turning to open the refrigerator, but once his face was inside it, he called me out again.

“Why are you being so weird with Josh?”

I love him, I need him!

“Whaaa.. I don’t know what you mean. You’re just super high.” Yeah, I really thought that would work. Sue me!

Straightening to his full height (seriously, like two inches taller than me… maybe three), he spun to face me again. He actually looked down his nose at me.

“Do you like, like him? What the fuck, Tiny?” He whispered that last part, as if his parents were lurking around the corner waiting to bust him for cussing.

“Look, you wouldn’t understand Sam. I’m much older than y-“

“You’re not even an entire year older than me.”

“Eleven months is basically an entire ye-“

“That’s not the point!” That part was like whisper yelling. I swear it looked like he was yelling, but it sounded like he was whispering.

“Okay!” Yeah, I whisper yelled back. “Sammy, I like him… I’m sorry! I don’t even know when it happened but I woke up one day and I realized that he’s perfect! He’s funny and nice and he’s so… so… cute! Okay? He’s so cute I wanna die and I love him!”

Sam’s eyes were wide, as wide as they could be under the circumstances, and he stared at me like I’d grown another head. With a horn coming out of it.

“You love him. You realize how dumb you sound right now?”

Dumb? No no, this was serious. I pleaded with my best friend for forgiveness. And his help. “Sam… please. Don’t be mad at me, I- I don’t know, I can’t help it! That’s just how I feel, and I want him to like me back!” That’s when it hit me, I needed a wingman for this plan.

“Can you help me get him to like me back?” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip stuck out and everything. As if that had ever worked in the four years we’d known each other so far.

“Fuck no.” His eyes moved side to side, looking for sneaky parents again I guessed. “Definitely not. Why do you have to like my brother, dude? That’s sick, it’s like incest or something!” He stomped his feet a little, and I couldn't help but think it made him look like a child. He was a child! This was serious, grown-up shit and I didn’t have time to play games.

“Ugh, if you’re not gonna help me then at least get out of my way.” I pushed past him and headed back out of the house and into the garage. Not much had changed when I got there, but Danny must have left while Sam and I were gone. The entire couch was empty aside from Josh, still sitting cross-legged in one corner. Damn it!

I flopped into the spot that Danny had vacated, just as Sam hustled back in through the side door, arms full of sodas and bags of chips. My cheeks were warm when I looked up at him, and then they burst into flames.

“Scoot over T, I like the corner spot.”

He’s helping me! Oh shit, he’s helping me. Move your ass!!

Fumbling for a grip on reality, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sam’s. He lifted his brows and tilted his head in Josh’s direction. I suddenly remembered why I wasted all my days with this kid - he’s my ride or die. And now I owed him, big.

As soon as I stood to shift to the center of the couch, Sam’s elbow snuck out and made contact with my shoulder. My feet tangled with each other and, balance lost, I tumbled. Right into the arms of my beloved.

Okay okay, that’s a reach. But I did land on him. Sam had nudged me just hard enough to send me toward the opposite end of the couch and I landed ass-first on Josh’s leg, still folded and crossed under the other.

Through the mortification, I heard Sam’s distinct snickering as he placed himself gently on the other cushion. Then, through the popping of soda tabs and crinkling of chip bags, I heard the sweetest, most beautiful sound ever.

“If you wanted to sit next to me so bad, you could’ve just done it, T.”

I quite literally had to extract myself from his lap, but Josh just giggled as I clumsily moved off of him. To my extreme delight and disbelief, I didn’t make it too far. He slung an arm over my shoulders and kept me at his side. We are sharing a cushion. ALERT ALERT - OUR THIGHS ARE TOUCHING.

His hand wrapped around the ball of my shoulder and squeezed. Not once, but twice. I felt like I was gonna puke, but I risked turning my head and meeting his eyes. And he. Fucking. Smiled.

“You good, Tiny?” I should’ve laughed. We were the same exact height, I could be calling him tiny. But this wasn’t funny, because he was still smiling at me and he’d lowered his voice to speak directly to me and I felt it all the way to my toes. Somehow I managed to smile back.

“I’m good.” I was soooooo good. Even when Sam shoved a bag of Doritos at me, I was good. Because Josh reached into it and pulled a few out for himself. He reached into my lap! For chips!

Risking a sideways glance at Sam, I found him eyeballing Josh’s hand that was still resting lightly over my shoulder. I gave him my best “holy shit holy shit holy shit” expression, to which he rolled his eyes and shrugged. Before turning my attention back to the love of my life, my gaze drifted past Sam and landed on Jake. Oh, he was still here? Hadn’t noticed.

Except I was noticing. And he didn’t look pleased. He locked in and held eye contact, absolutely scowling. He was pissed. At me?! I must not have hidden my surprise well, because after a few more tense seconds of the longest eye contact we’d ever held, he blinked away and flung the guitar he’d been cradling all night over the arm of the chair.

Look, he didn’t throw it or anything. The stand was right there and the guitar landed safely, if not a little roughly, in its place. But then he tossed the open bag of Lay’s to the table, swung his legs around and stood. He caught my eye again, his hair doing that flippy thing over his eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Whatever. Night, guys.”

Just like that, he was gone. Two down, one to go. GTFO Sam!!

The next hour or so passed in a blur. Sam kept hitting the joint long after Josh and I had turned it down, and by the time he’d deposited the roach in the ashtray he could barely keep his eyes open. I watched his head fall back into the cushion and pounced on my opportunity.

Leaning away from Josh’s loving embrace (shut up, I was in heaven okay?), I slapped Sam’s chest with the back of my hand.

“Sammy… Sam!” He snorted as his head whipped up, swiped a hand over his mouth and looked at me. I was still leaning toward him, my back to Josh, and I spoke to him telepathically. Or with my eyebrows.

Get out of here right now or so help me God.

He answered verbally, like he couldn't even read my mind. “Huh?”

I withheld growling at him like an animal. “Why don’t you go to bed, man? You’re toast.” Go. NOW.

His eyes tried to focus on me, they really did, before he shook his head and tried again. “Shit. Yeah, okay. Are you… do you wanna stay on the couch tonight?”

Yes. This couch. Allll night long.

“Yeah yeah, I will, but I’m not tired yet. I’m just gonna, um, chill here for a little bit longer?” At that, I turned my head and risked a glance at Josh. Thank God I did, because he was already looking at me, and he grinned. EEEEEEEP!

“I’m not tired yet either, we can listen to some music.” I doubted I could hear music at that point, not over the blood rushing in my ears. But then, oh then, he looked up at Sam and said, “I’ll make sure she makes it to bed, I mean, the couch. Downstairs, I’ll make sure she makes it downstairs.”

“Fine, whatever.” See? He’s my ride or die. “See you in the morning, T.” And then he was gone.

We were alone.

HELLO? WE. WERE. ALONE.

Sure, I’d been alone with Josh before. I’d been hanging around his house nearly every day for four years, we’d definitely been left in a room together at some point. But not while his arm was draped loosely over my shoulders, not while our legs were touching, not while my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

But now that we were alone, I had no effing clue what to do. Then Josh stood up. My heart dropped into my stomach, but he walked over to the stacked milk crates that housed a small part of their family’s record collection and crouched to skim through them. He found something he liked and set it on the turntable, the needle bringing the crackling beginnings of a song to life.

When he turned back to face me, I thought for sure he’d sit in that ugly wingback chair. Or at the other end of the couch. Instead, he circled the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of me than he had been all night. And now his other thigh was touching mine!

I’m pretty sure my throat closed up because I had to clear it rather unattractively to speak. “What, uhh, ha, um, who is this?”

Sexy, right?

Didn’t matter, his smile took shape right in front of my eyes and all I could see was the little barely-there gap between his front teeth. I wanted to know what it felt like on my tongue. Would I be able to tell? If I kissed him right now, would I be able to feel that little discrepancy in the perfection of his teeth? I lifted my eyes to meet his and realized he’d spoken, and I’d missed it.

“Sorry, uhh… what?”

His head tilted and his eyes searched my face for… something. “Wilson Pickett. Sammy hasn’t played this for you?”

Sammy? Who is Sammy? Ohhh right, best friend.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. But maybe? There’s always music on, he’s probably played this.”

He just nodded, at first in response to my rambling and then in time with the song. When it ended, he just… looked at me, for what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds. I was once again hyper aware of my underarms. Sweating. So I slipped the flannel off of my shoulders, keeping my forearms in the sleeves but giving me some airflow to the pits. Josh’s eyes dropped from mine and landed on the now exposed skin. Yes! Guys like shoulders!

The realization slapped me in the face, so I grabbed it and ran. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and tossed the flannel past Josh and onto the chair, thanking God that I’d worn a tank top. He gulped. Like a full-blown gulp.

Omg I’m making him nervous!!

Confidence boosted, I shifted even closer to him, until our bodies were tucked tight against each other. I’d never been this close to him, aside from that one time we’d been crammed in the back seat of his mom’s car with Sam and Jake, their sister sitting pretty in the front seat. But then I had been a scrawny kid, only thirteen (and a half) and he had been a really weird fifteen year old, not yet having grown into his features. I hadn’t wanted any part of his stinky, sweaty, farty body near me and I’d squeezed myself so close to Sam I was practically in his lap.

But on this night? This Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I was no longer a kid. And he was no longer weird. He was beautiful, and my face was really close to his face. I could feel it when he whispered, his breath actually touched my lips.

“Wha- what are you doing, T?”

He was looking at my lips, waiting for my answer. I licked them because I was freaking parched, but he watched. And I watched him gulp, again! My tongue slipped out and wet my bottom lip a second time.

“Josh?” Whispering is sexy, it’s seductive. I was sure of it. He did it back, just my name - my actual name - lilting at the end in question.

“Do you.. wanna… kiss me?” I leaned over him, placed my left hand on his chest and felt his collar bone under my fingertips through his t-shirt. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I saw the panic widen his eyes, then they darted around me, looking at anything but me. It was really so cute how nervous he was. He was eighteen, for Christ sake! And I was making him nervous!

“Kiss me, Josh.” His eyes snapped back to mine, slipped down to my mouth again and then back.

And then. He. Freaking. KISSED. ME.

In a split second that felt like hours, I watched his eyes close and perfect lips pucker. My eyes stayed open at first, I didn’t want to miss this.

Leaning further into him, I settled my lips against his and slid the hand on his chest up the side of his neck (his pulse was out of control, by the way), and then cradled his jaw. My fingertips were in his hair right behind his ear. I pulled his face closer and ramped up the pressure of our lips pushed together.

He put his hands on me. I swear to God, he really did! One reached for my hip and the other came up to rest against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and my body took over. Not a coherent thought left in my pretty little head. Especially when our mouths separated, and then he pushed them back together.

With a mind of its own, my other hand came up and gripped his shoulder. Then my leg swung over his lap and I. Was. Straddling. Him.

It wasn’t my fault. My brain had gone haywire, my body moving on instinct. I’d quite literally never done this before. I’d kissed plenty, I even kissed Sam once (barf), but this felt different. This felt mature. Probably a little more mature than I was ready for but like I said, it was not my fault.

A lot of blame fell on Josh, a whole mountain of it, when the hand on my cheek dropped to my other hip and gripped hard, pulled me flush against him. And his lips coerced my mouth open. And the tip of his tongue swept out and touched mine.

Oh, I was in way over my head. But this was Josh, the boy I loved, and he was loving me back!

A sound I’d never made before crept up my throat. Instant embarrassment heated my already toasty cheeks and climbed up my neck, but then. Ohh then. The same freaking sound came from somewhere below me. Josh groaned. Because of me.

My animal brain completely took over. My tongue was already sliding against his, and my hips decided to follow suit. With zero finesse, they rocked into his. Just once.

He broke the kiss and dropped his head back to the cushion.

No no noooooo, you like this! You love it!

I could feel the proof that he loved it. I was sitting on it. I could see it, his chest heaving.

So I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Stop, T.” His hands fell limp and landed on my thighs. My brain scrambled to catch up. Stop? Go! His fingers spread across the denim on my legs. Go go go!

But then he pushed. I leaned back to see his face, find an explanation, but his eyes were still closed as he pushed me off of his lap. Helped me swing my leg back over. Kept his hands on my thighs until they were planted back on the couch and closed. Firmly. Then they left me, and I felt their absence like a knife to the heart.

“I… wow, okay.” It’s the best I could manage to formulate, but my brain was running in overdrive.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He rubbed his palms, the ones that were just holding me, over his knees then leaned forward and dropped his forehead into them.

Okay, maybe he just thinks we were moving too fast!

“Josh, it’s okay. I want this! We can just kiss, I’ll stay over here and you stay there and-“

It was so quiet, but it stopped my words on my tongue and slammed my lips shut.

“I can’t.”

Okay. Okay. Okay.

It’s because Sam’s my best friend.

It’s because I’m too young.

He thinks I’m still a kid.

Like his kid sister.

Fuck!

Anger rolled through me. “Why? Is it Sam?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to me. Looked at me, finally.

“No, I-“

“Am I too young for you? You’re not that much older, Josh and we’ve known eachother forever, it’s not that big of a de-“

“It’s not that, Tiny.” His eyes closed again.

“Don’t call me that!” He’d offended me, I was o-ffen-ded. “I’m not a little fucking kid!” Okay, I was pissed! I was a grown ass woman!

(I wasn’t.)

Both of his hands reached forward and he pulled mine towards him. Held them there. Opened his eyes. Was he gonna cry? Why are his eyes wet?! Shit, am I crying?

“It’s not you, T. It’s me.” Oh please. “I- well, I um, I like someone else.”

Back to angry! “What?! Then why the hell were you kissing me?!” What a scoundrel, what a snake, what an asshole!

“It’s not like that-“

“What the fuck is it like?!” I didn’t normally curse much at that age, but when I tell you I was mad? Hurt? Embarrassed? I couldn’t stop it from happening.

Shit, his eyes were definitely wet.

“It’s a guy.”

He whispered it, and it wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t seductive. It was sad. Scared. Defeated. I snatched my hands out of his.

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable. He stared at his empty hands and we processed.

“What did you say?” His posture shrank, like he was trying to disappear. “Josh, it’s okay. Talk to me.” It was my turn to take his hands. I held them in mine and squeezed once.

“I’m so sorry, I- I just don’t like you. Like that.” His eyes found their way back to my face, “I really like him.” They went wide and I’m pretty sure mine did too. He seemed shocked that he’d said it out loud, right before panic spread across his features again.

“Please don’t say anything, T. I haven’t- no one knows that. No one. Please.”

“No, I would never Josh, I swear. I just… why were you, ya know, kissing me?” Touching me, pulling me in. He pulled his hands away from me this time.

“I just wanted to feel normal. I wanted them to think I was normal.”

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around him and held on tight.

“You are.” Normal and beautiful and perfect. And not mine. A heavy sigh slipped from between my lips. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stayed silent, so I did too. I kept my arms around him for a few minutes before finally letting them slip free, rubbing a palm between his shoulder blades.

“I guess I should go… Are you okay?” Look, I was not okay, but it didn’t seem like that was important anymore.

“Aren’t you gonna stay downstairs tonight?”

Definitely not. “No, I think I should go home…” Probably won’t show my face over here for a goooood long time.

“Let me walk with you.”

I did. He walked on the other side of my bike while I walked it by the handlebars. When we reached my driveway, I left the bike propped against the side of the garage and turned to him. And just like in my dreams, he moved close and pecked a kiss into my cheek. Then he pulled me into his arms.

“I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, ya know?” His voice was soft and low, his breath tickling my ear. It should’ve been a literal dream come true.

A half step back and I rubbed my hands up and down his arms. “It’s really fine. I’m sorry for…” Humiliating us both? “Everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I mean it,” he emphasized when I shook my head. “Just… please don’t say anything. Even to Sam. Especially to Sam. I’m gonna tell them all when I’m ready, I think.”

Huge, massive sigh. “I won’t. I promise.”

And I never did. Not really.

[bobluvbot]

bonk!

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x f!reader

summary: in which fate uses a karaoke machine to lead the way for romance because you and Bradley are just too dumb and dense for it.

wc: 9k+ (sorry)

warnings: best friend!rooster, age difference, reader has a lot of insecurities like with body image (briefly mentioned, like one line only!) and self worth issues. implied sex so 18+ only! kinda beta’d. I *tried* to keep the angst at a minimum (i write angst but i am changing ok) but a LOT of pent up frustration. Still VERY fluffy though <3

A/N: Yeahhhhhhh. This started off as a single fluffy scenario with my beloved Rooster, but it kinda took a life of its own. Nonetheless, hope you enjoy! 

Reader’s call sign is Indigo!

If there was someone to blame for all this mess, it should be Mav. More often than not, it’s always Maverick’s fault.

He brought up the idea first during one of those after hours of the Hard Deck.

If nothing much has been going on back in base, you and Rooster, sometimes the rest of the Dagger squad would stay behind to help him and Penny clean and get everything straight for the next day. You would do it so often that Penny, who was adamant in shooing you guys away claiming that she could handle it, gave up trying and now checks if you’re cleaning thoroughly.

“Pen,” he’d said in passing, leaning against the mop he was using. “You know what’d make this place better?”

“Are you saying it isn’t already?”

Mav stutters, now realizing how his words could’ve sounded differently than he originally intended, much to you and Rooster’s amusement as you listened in to the conversation. “No- I- you know I didn’t mean it like that, honey.”

“I know,” Penny laughs. “I’m kidding. What were you saying, hun?”

“We should bring in a karaoke machine.”

-

In retrospect, it was a good idea. Not everyone who’d drunkenly belt out lyrics to a song could hit the right notes without the background music, the jukebox has not been updated to have all the hit music the younger crowd wants to hear, and not everyone could remember the piano chords of their favorite song. And as much as it would please the public demand, the highly acclaimed Rooster Bradshaw and his Great Balls of Fire could not commit to a nightly residency at the Hard Deck due to his demanding day job of being a fighter pilot. Welcoming the machine seemed like a harmless decision, and placing it outside seemed to complete the often deserted outdoor seating area.

And for a while it did what was expected. It brought in an interesting crowd to the bar. The nights you were there, you had witnessed a group of stressed college kids out back, screaming their lungs out through Evanescence’s discography. Another time, a small group were hunkered down by the machine, seemingly on guard as their drunk friend sobbed through Adele’s Someone Like You and Roxette’s It Must’ve Been Love. You had been tempted to hop on in a session when a group of friends decided to have a 2012 night, from Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift to One Direction and Little Mix. It brought out a lot of emotions from the patrons of the bar and soon enough it became a regular fixture at the Hard Deck, that Penny had to whip out a reservation list just for the outside seating to keep people from fighting over the time limit each group has before the next can have their go. It somehow made the place even more chaotic, especially during weekends, but added more income so no one was complaining.

It became a problem when you and the rest of the Top Gun instructors gave in to the hype and had a go for yourselves. It started out as innocent, drunk fun. You and the instructors around your age were sick of hearing the oldies and their outdated playlists from the jukebox (Don’t let Rooster know about this) as they played pool, so you went outside and dared each other to grab the mic and pick a song that you used to cry to during your first heartbreak with the promise of a crumpled 20$ bill someone dug out from their pocket. From Lips to an Angel to The Reason to Perfect, your friends each gave their all for the sad bill. Determined to stand out, you decide on Taylor’s Teardrops on My Guitar as your magnum opus for the night. It was a perfect fit, and your friends groaned woefully as the nostalgia hits them. In your drunken haze, you wondered for a bit why you’ve avoided listening or singing this song for so long, but as the song continued, you figure out why.

—

It was 2007, the summer before college, and you had just gotten your dream iPod in pink as a gift from your grandparents for getting into Columbia. You already had a list of all the albums and singles you were going to download on the back of your physics notebook, and the first off that list would be Taylor Swift’s albums. It was nice that you were the same age, you could relate to each song if you tried hard enough, but your lack of non-fictional boyfriends and romantic conquests were a huge setback back then. You were halfway through your second listen when your grandmother asks you if you can bring the casserole she just finished making next door, and because you didn’t have the heart to say no after getting your iPod, you agreed and made your way to your neighbor’s house.

They seemed to have someone over, judging by the number of bikes strewn across the lawn and an inconspicuous blue Bronco parked in their driveway that you didn’t recognize. More reasons to drop off and go, you’d thought, so you rang their doorbell while you thought of a good excuse to speed off. No one responded despite the commotion you could barely make out from the inside, so with an exasperated sigh, you reached out to press the bell again.

You remembered freezing, with your outstretched hand retreating back to the handles of the pan as you made contact with the one who answered the door. He didn’t have blue eyes like Drew did from the music video, nor was he called Drew for that matter, but god, you found yourself breathless and in constant awe like Taylor when you realized who it was.

He broke out in a grin, greeting you with that wretched nickname he and his cousins gave you when you were young. Bradley Bradshaw— the boy that taught you how to hang upside down from the monkey bars at the park because your friends (his cousins) thought you were too heavy to do so, the boy you got so attached to every summer when he came to stay next door because he included you whenever the cousins played Pokemon cards or Super Mario on the playstation and would let you off easy and debt free whenever you played monopoly, the boy who shared your love for aviation and would drag you along with their family trips to the flight museums nearby, and it would take years more for you to realize but he was also the same boy you looked for in the sea of faces at school, in hopes to find someone remotely close to who he was, which just left you terribly single— was back, visiting from college. He was still breathtakingly beautiful, and the crazy beating of your heart as he dragged you by the hand inside to see the family should be the telltale sign that you were going to be ruined before you escaped to college.

Catching up after dinner, you learned there was a girl. There was always someone— he was interested in, confessing their feelings, seeing, crying over him. You should’ve gotten used to it at this point. Bradley was a light that everyone was just naturally drawn to. Maybe you could chalk up the blame to the angsty fanfic you’ve read earlier that day or to the sad Taylor Swift songs you decided to dwell on before you brought the casserole, but goddamn it stung. It hurt when it shouldn’t be hurting in the first place. Bradley was one of your childhood friends, the kind big brother you always wanted to have. You’re sure that if he was around more, he would’ve helped you scare away your bullies or have even posed as your date to prom so you wouldn’t feel as left out as you did. It was in between your third or fourth bite of the cherry pie Bradley’s aunt had given you for dessert when you realized you saw him in a different light now, and it didn’t take long for you to see that he didn’t.

Later that night, you found yourself clutching your teal guitar, Love Story’s chords long forgotten, blasting Teardrops on My Guitar on your alarm clock speaker at 10pm, with only the moonlight and your pink wallpaper witnessing your tear-stricken face.

–

“Oh my god, is Indigo crying?”

“She is, fuck. Hurry, we gotta record this!”

Before your friend could point the camera flash on your face, you kick his shin before whipping out your middle finger, turning away from them to hastily wipe the tears that betrayed you on your sweater.

Despite the waterworks, you were determined to finish the last line of the song perfectly, because this is the last time you’ll be singing this for the next thirty or so years.

“Drew looks at me,” you start, and the doors swing open to welcome an amused Rooster and the rest of the gang into your group outside.

Locking eyes with you, you sing, “I fake a smile so he won’t see,” smiling.

Yeah, at least the sting lessened to a quiet twinge now.

—

The oldies have infiltrated the karaoke machine once they saw how much fun you guys had that night. Soon after, they’d come in early and just play one round of pool before Fanboy drags you and Payback outside quickly, reserving the machine before the bar’s crowd comes in. People would think this is unfair because you were allowed in earlier and would have the advantage to hoard the machine all to yourselves, but they didn’t want to risk disrespecting you guys and buying a round for the entire bar so they kept quiet.

It wasn’t long till Rooster had migrated his trademark song from the piano to the karaoke machine, deeming that it was hard to remember the chords when he’s had a few drinks. You’d still have your turn singing throwback songs with the gang, but once Bradley gets a hold of the mic, you might as well head home because it’s either he sings five songs in a row or a five minute song (there’s no in between). It gets especially worse when he’s got alcohol in his system, the mans will hog the mic for himself. You once got into a fight because of it and it only ended when Hangman snatched it from both of your hands and used it for his own song, much to both your chagrin.

—

“No, absolutely not.”

Those were the last words you register before your phone gets snatched from your hands. Mere seconds ago, you were on Amazon, comparing prices of those bluetooth karaoke microphones that had built in speakers and had just added the highest rated one on your cart.

You’ve grown attached to the bar’s karaoke machine and would look forward to it after a long day dealing with your new array of Top Gun students. You found that belting out Fall Out Boy relieves more tension from your back than your regular chiropractic appointments so you’re determined to still have your karaoke session one way or another. But apparently, your best friend had other ideas.

“I’m relaxing, Bradshaw, but I won’t hesitate to kick your nuts if you don’t give back my phone.”

“Let me just—,” he mutters, tapping on your device that seems suspiciously like removing something from your cart.

You immediately spring into action and he raises his arms above your reach in response. Damn him and his height. You resort to climbing up his limbs, and when that didn’t work, you gave a mean pinch his side. This seemed to do the trick as he hissed, folding over in pain, and you take the opportunity to grab your phone back.

God, you were glad you were on your break and none of your superiors or students were around to witness two of their instructors tackle each other outside one of the hangars.

“I can’t believe you’d betray Penny like this, Y/N.”

“What the hell are you on about?” You ask, shooting him a mean glare while wiping his fingerprints off from your screen on your suit.

“You getting your own karaoke mic means you won’t go to the Hard Deck anymore to sing and that’s just incredibly selfish and I can’t allow that.”

“Well,” you start, “I wouldn’t be getting one in the first place if someone here plays fair and doesn’t hog the mic for himself.”

He scoffs. “You talking to yourself?”

You gasp, appalled. “How dare you. That was one time! It’s not my fault All Too Well’s ten minutes!”

“Uh huh,” he gloats. “I’m just gonna pretend we didn’t listen to the album together and I totally didn’t see that there was a five minute version you could’ve sung.”

This prompts a teasing smile from your lips. “Oh, so you were paying attention to the album. I thought you hated it because it was cheesy teen music.” You say, using air quotes while mocking how he had complained when you took out his Temptations cd from the Bronco’s stereo and replaced it with your new Red album the moment you got it from the mail.

“I had little to no choice on the matter, Y/N. You chose the longest car ride to play that album on repeat,” he responds exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

You smirk at the memory. You both were off that day and you persuaded Bradley to drive from base to downtown Los Angeles for this dumpling restaurant you saw on Yelp that offered an AYCE for their opening day. It wasn’t easy to get him off his couch during his offs (understandable), but you bribed him with the promise of a full gas tank and a car wash. He did sulk for a bit, but you knew he couldn’t resist free things (or you whining for that matter).

“Don’t distract me from the real issue here. Just don’t get that mic, Y/N. Fighting over that karaoke machine at the Hard Deck makes it more fun.” He says a matter-of-factly.

“Fun because no one has the balls to snatch the mic from you.” You grumble, checking your watch and seeing your break time was almost up. “Whatever,” you say in passing while wiping off some sandwich crumbs that stuck to your suit. “I’ll just order it when you’re not around,” you sneer, sticking your tongue out at Rooster as you start to walk back to the main building where your classes are held.

He catches up to you quick, a smirk on his lips. Does this man ever run out of comebacks? “You’re forgetting the fact that that’s my Prime account you’re using.”

You halt, appalled, your eyes following his figure as he ignores you and continues his walk. “I pay for my half, you ass! That’s our account!”

He doesn’t say anything as he looks back at you, only a knowing expression on his face. You know there’s no escape from this. Because when you’d try to order it later, he’ll just cancel it on his end when he gets notified of the purchase. Frustrating. “I hate you.”

He hums in response, and you try to suppress the tingly feeling you’d always get when he does that. “Still up for dinner later?” He asks when you reach his side.

You feel the weight of disappointment and dismay from your ancestors as you mutter a yes to the man before you separate ways. Doesn’t matter how much Bradley Bradshaw riles you up every chance he gets, you’d always say yes to him.

—

“Just let me take you to lunch, please.”

You had tried your best to keep a respectable distance from your superior but it got increasingly hard as Rooster grabbed your arm and situated himself in front of you, his bulky figure blocking your way. Getting caught was one thing, but having all the feelings for this man you’ve kept in a box stowed away in some hidden part of your head unravel because of how close he is to you right now was another issue you’re not ready to face.

In fact, mere days ago, the thought of him hadn’t even crossed your mind. Renewed determination and excitement coursed through your veins as you started your advanced flight training. You worked your ass off to get to this point, and it’s only a matter of time before you get your wings. That alone kept your head above water. You might’ve taken the long route with your engineering degree, but it surely did wonders as you sped through most of your earlier classes in training. Soon enough you’ll be doing what you’ve always dreamed of as a kid. And nothing will stand in your way to fly.

Well, you didn’t account for having Bradley Bradshaw temporarily stand-in as your flight instructor for a week, so that’s oversight on your part.

You had looked around, relieved to see the hallway was deserted, before you hissed, “You’re too close! If anyone sees us, they’re gonna assume the worst and I’ll be dead.”

“Let them.” You glared at him and he took it back immediately. “Okay, fine.” He had said, taking one step away from you. “Lunch, with me,” he repeated again, as if you hadn’t been listening to him ask for the past few minutes. “I’ll let you order anything you want off the menu. On me.”

He knew your affinity for free stuff, and you never wanted to pluck that knowledge off his head than right now. You sighed, resigning. “You’ll leave me alone after?”

“I–,” he’d stuttered, caught off guard. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do me like this. I haven’t seen you in so long. We gotta catch up.”

“It’s just,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze. “It’s different now, Bradley. You’re my instructor and I’m one of your students—”

“Only for a week,” he interrupted, and you gave him a scowl. “Sorry, go on.”

Sighing, you continued, “Don’t get me wrong, I wanna go with you. It’s just that people might get the wrong idea when they see us outside and I’m this close to graduating and I don’t want anything to hold me back, you know?”

He noticed your anxious expression and he’d ran a hand through the length of your arm to comfort you. “I understand, you know I do.” Despite the thick material of your flight suit, his touch left a trail of goosebumps on your skin. The effect he had on you is daunting.

He paused to think for a second. “Hey, what about this. Let’s change out of these uniforms and then I’ll wait for you outside base. We’ll blend in perfectly. That sound good?”

A small smile had creeped into your face as you nodded gingerly. God, you missed him so much.

“I got you, don’t worry. Plus I already told some of my colleagues that you’re a family friend so they leave us alone.”

He probably meant that in a sweet, genuine way, but it still stung. You went through so many changes during the years you spent apart. You worked hard on your appearance and became more confident in the way you deliver yourself, something that you weren’t before. You’d never admit it but in some small part of you, you wished Bradley saw you like the girls he’d go crazy over.

You mustered up a tight smile for him. “Okay, See you in a bit.” You say before walking away.

A single thought remains in your mind: Still not good enough.

—

Lunch went surprisingly easy despite of what had happened earlier.

You’ve imagined this moment with Rooster so many times while you were away for college. Like what would your first meeting as adults would be, if you would ever cross paths again.

Would you have a meet-cute like the movies where you bump into each other unexpectedly, or where you’d trip and he’d catch you, literally sweeping you off your feet? And would it be a new beginning for both of you, finally seeing each other after years of being apart?

Would love just come naturally, fate tired from seeing you both struggle to see it?

Even if this isn’t as grandiose as what you’ve dreamed of, you and Bradley munching through breakfast for lunch and early dinner at Denny’s while catching up seemed like how things should be.

Just his mere presence made everything better (for your heart) and worse (also, for your heart) at the same time.

You didn’t tell him that running thousands of miles away from home didn’t do shit because all you’ve ever searched for was him and anything remotely similar to how he’s made you feel, nor how you’d always check next door first to see if that blue Bronco’s parked in the driveway again when you’d come home for breaks. Instead you told him good (boring) things about college, because those were the safest. It didn’t warrant any additional questions, questions that could prod at your already flaking defense and one wrong step could have him see how much you’re pathetically struggling to keep it up.

He in turn, tells you stories from college to his current naval career, and you listen. Or you try to, as you hyperfocus on how he looked; how this clean cut hair made him look more serious, far from the mop of curls he sported throughout high school and college to how his lips still looked plump and pretty, and you get reminded of how much you liked to sneak looks at them whenever he speaks from that one summer.

This is probably the closest you could be with him so you take advantage of it, marking the features you loved from the old Bradley that remained the same from the new ones you’d get to know from afar.

You manage to catch the important things: how attached he’s been to the California sun ever since he got stationed there and how he’ll take you there to visit once you graduate because he’s that sure that you’ll love it as much as he does, how he’s thinking of growing a mustache, and that he didn’t even consider taking up this job but he’s now happy he did.

He made a point that you know how proud he is of you for following your childhood dream like he did. He swore he’ll take care of you, making up for all those years he hadn’t been around.

You’d hate it later that night because you knew better, but after years of just bottling up all the feelings you felt for him, maybe today was the day you could indulge in the affection he gives you.

Even if it’s ill placed. After all, it would just be today.

Until you realized he meant what he said.

It got hard to remain level-headed in the mist, especially when he became the first person you’d want to call just to tell him about both exciting and frustrating things you got to do from training because you knew he’d understand perfectly, or when he had shown up late to your graduation because he drove for an hour to get you a big bouquet of peonies (your favorite), or when he took you to San Diego and introduced you to his friends who all welcomed you with fondness, finally giving you a sense of belonging and community in this stage of your life.

It was arduous to keep up when even after getting assigned to bases across the country, you’d randomly find packages of random food items that you’ve been craving mentioned in passing through facetimes and texts, or when he would have time to visit, you’d suddenly find that broken bedroom doorknob you’ve been ignoring fixed, the change oil light from your car finally turned off, and you’d always get dropped off in front of Target’s entrance while he finds parking in a busy lot.

Punishing to bear in mind when it’s been custom to have each other pick one up after deployment, when he trusts you enough to park his beloved Bronco at your place and even take it out for eventual maintenance checks, and when you’d lean on his chest when it gets too crowded and his arms find its way around you, tucking you in, and at once there’d be comfort in chaos.

This still isn’t what you hoped to be with Bradley; but you were given something greater, far more than that silly little crush you’ve ever daydreamed about, and suddenly, something you’ve been certain of ever since that day you handed him that casserole wasn’t as clear now. Risking all this for a confession of years of love and adoration didn’t seem worth it anymore.

Perhaps, this was okay. This was how things should be.

—

So you didn’t quite understand why you were fuming, and all that filled your head was hurt, hurt, hurt.

The scene unfolded like a usual Saturday night for everyone: Tipsy Rooster throws his hand across your shoulders, making you sway with him to the opening rhythm of Great Balls of Fire (his third song in a row), leaning close to your ear where his mustache tickles your skin and unsheaths a million goosebumps at its wake, to say that he promises, like pretty promises, to let you sing the last verse and chorus with him as a peace offering for hogging the mic yet again. And you believe him.

Not because the few drinks you’ve had impeded your better judgement, but because it wasn’t like Rooster to break promises. Neither a wash of alcohol nor adrenaline could waver that man’s conviction to a promise.

You relent, plopping yourself beside a warm Phoenix, who was busy playing an intense card game with Bob, Fanboy, and some other pilots. Through the windows, you could spot Hangman’s animated head bob along as he charms two women by the pool table while Coyote and Fritz played beside him. It had been a busy week for all of you back at base, so everyone was just out and about, eager to be distracted from the events at work.

You had felt yourself get dizzy after taking two swigs off your nth beer, so you closed your eyes for a bit, leaning your weight on Nat’s back as you listen to your best friend croon his heart out and have his karaoke moment. Music had always calmed Rooster down, and as much as you’d love to have your overdue turn to sing, you’re always willing to wait for him (even if you’ll never admit it out loud).

So when he finished the second chorus and the piano solo kicked in, you had willed yourself to come back to consciousness. It had been a while since you sang this song, and you’ve never shared a duet with Rooster before because both of you would just be too busy fighting for the mic. You might not have the best singing voice when tipsy but you’re singing with your best friend, and it was okay to be embarrassing with him.

But you never hear your name called, and you open your eyes just in time to witness everything. The door leading to the outdoor area opened and out it spat a woman you remember seeing in passing inside when you went to get a refill from Penny. She was beautiful and of course, she had eyes only for Rooster. Considering the recognition in her face as she saw him plus the sure steps he made towards her, you knew they have had history.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but she was laughing, obviously sending the fuck me gaze in Rooster’s way, and you could tell he was chuckling too by the careen in his shoulders.

The piano solo gave you an insulting background music as you watched tensed up. Knowing this song by heart, you count the seconds and notes while staring at the two of them.

‘Anytime now, Roos will bid her goodbye and he would call me next to him and we would finish this song together,’ you thought, assuring yourself. ‘He promised.’

Except when the solo ended, he pulled her close, put his arm on her shoulders, handed her the mic, and they sang together.

He didn’t even bother looking back at you. It was as if you weren’t there in the first place.

You should really lay off on alcohol. Something about it makes you act childish and irrational.

Because here you were, a grown woman, an Ivy League and Top Gun graduate, trusted to fly big expensive planes through challenging and stressful situations, yet all you wanted to do was to throw things and wail right then and there because you didn’t know how to quiet the pounding in your chest or to silence the reverberating words in your head: hurt, and in a smaller voice, that should’ve been me.

Despite the open around you, it felt like the air was getting punched out from your lungs, and you just had to get out. Standing abruptly, you forgot the drink perched on your lap and it spills, the cold liquid soaking through denim. Wanting to slip away unnoticed was far gone because your clumsiness just managed to attract unwanted attention from Nat and the rest.

A chorus of startled and worried questions erupt at your wake, but they get swept up in the night breeze as you squeeze past them, muttering something sounding like an apology while your feet takes you down the patio steps and into the sand of the beach, your boots sinking on the sand with your laden steps.

It seemed like the faster you run, your feet get heavier and harder to drag off the sand, making your dash to the parking lot achingly slower. The world was mute, the once noisy bar with all its music and chatter, even the relentless crashing of waves to shore were absent. The biting November wind clings to your frame and to the wet trails left on your cheeks. You didn’t even notice you were crying, but you just hope they didn’t spill when you were squeezing past your friends. They didn’t have to see how pathetic you really were behind your collected front.

But here now, by the unlit back wall of the bar where no wandering eyes could see you, maybe you could let some tears flow to keep the dam from overflowing again. You have always prided yourself in being able to keeping your emotions in check. With a job like yours you couldn’t guarantee a day or two where nothing unexpected occurs, no one gets hurt, or no one treats you unfairly, so you had to learn how to let your work be work, and not let it bleed through your personal life. Same as with Bradley. Your longing for him was met in this friendship and had let yourself get used to that. You knew to turn away when he spots someone that sparks his interest in the bar, you learned to tune him out when he raved about this person he met, you had a set of answers to give when he asks you advice on what to wear for a date or what gift to give.

Because your needs were being met. You have a best friend, a confidant, a partner in him. You have made a joke of yourself, your feelings to keep the man you loved close. You could sleep at night before. You were okay before. You could pretend this didn’t happen tomorrow like before, so why doesn’t it work now?

You cry for the wasted years of devoting yourself to someone who wouldn’t even bat an eye for you when occupied with others that haven’t, or wouldn’t even attempt to do things you’ve done for Bradley, to make him happy, to keep that fucking smile on his face, to keep that light in his eyes burning bright.

You cry for all the times you have rejected or ignored people that expressed interest in getting to know you because you were too enamored and convinced that no one could make up for what he was in your life. And you’re not wrong. No one could make you insecure like he does whenever you act or dress like what he says he seeks for in a partner but he’d still look the other way. No one could be as dense as he is. No one could make you cry about a fifteen year old song like he does and make you feel like your teen self isn’t as different as you were now.

You wonder if you could’ve just given the guy who pursued you for a month with clear intentions and a kind heart a chance, a date, a night to prove himself to you, would you still be crying uncontrollably with your hand muffling your sobs, the rough wood patchwork on a dark corner of the bar the only thing keeping you from curling up into a ball as the years of regret catch up to you on a Saturday night?

Almost the entirety of your life devoted should be enough. It was time to quit Bradley Bradshaw.

Only it had to wait until sunrise to start. Because upon reaching the parking lot, you were smacked with a terrible realization: you rode with him to the Hard Deck.

You had sobered up from tears a little bit, but you feel another sob threatening to bubble out of your throat. Why were you so stupid?

You want to kick the Bronco’s wheels out of frustration but the baby didn’t do anything to deserve it (also because you had paid to get the car washed earlier that day). It was just an innocent bystander to your stupidity and unconditional love to its owner, so you drop down and hug your knees tight, shielding your face from the lights of the lot.

Maybe if you could sleep like this, you’d wake up back to this morning and this will all be a simple nightmare. And the exhaustion from the week and your sadness and anger were all too convincing for you to try it out, if it weren’t for the voice calling out your name in worry, the footsteps quickly coming towards you, and the strong arms that wrap around your frame, willing you to speak.

“Y/N, hey,” Bradley says softly, hand rubbing circles on your back. “Let’s get you somewhere warm, m’kay?”

Managing to muster up some strength, you push him away, or at least a sorry attempt to. Your palms were no match against his hard chest, and they just slide down hopelessly to your sides.

Grumbling, you say, “I can do it myself.”

“Okay, careful.” His voice remained soft, devoid of any annoyance or exasperation. This annoys you more. You wanted nothing but to hate this man to the guts but he makes it hard by being like this, like he actually cares.

You refuse to meet his eyes but you know they’re on you, watching as you hoist yourself up using the concrete as leverage. He had his hand outstretched to catch you if you stumble, and for a second you were tempted to grab it, but you resort to the side of the Bronco to keep your balance and the hand retreats.

Training your eyes to the ground, to anywhere except his stupid face, you explain, “I just need my bag,” gesturing at the lump on the passenger seat of the car. “So I can just catch an uber home.”

“No, I’ll drive you home,” he quickly refuses, fishing out his car keys from his back pocket. You wanted to lunge and steal it from him, but that’s just going to cause unnecessary contact with him. It’s best to avoid touching anything of him because you don’t know what it’ll do to the wall you’ve hastily built against him.

“Don’t bother. Last thing I want is to ruin your chances in getting laid tonight.”

Your words earn a quick eyebrow furrow from him and a miniscule wave of satisfaction runs through you. And you figure it out: if you can’t be happy tonight, no one near you can be.

A desire to cause a cascade of anger through him continues to consume you but he stops there. Face still laced with concern, he shakes his head and sighs, “Alright, let’s get you home.”

You watch him as he opens your door and waits for you to climb in while you remained standing where you were.

“Y/N.” He says it with a tonality he almost exclusively uses at work, when he has to put his instructor hat on or when he has someone to reprimand. “Please don’t make me carry you inside.”

You want to say he wouldn’t dare, but you knew he could easily do it. And even if you scream bloody murder, people knew you two always bicker like this so no one would think anything’s amiss. So you glare at him before noisily climbing up his car and shutting the door on his face. Whether it may be through words or actions, you were adamant to express your frustration to him, to this car, to this entire situation.

You could tell by the slump in his shoulders as he walked to the driver’s seat that he was bothered by how you’re acting but you can’t bring yourself to care. You just want to leave him troubled as you are, with his heart wrung tightly he couldn’t breathe.

The next words come out after a while of driving quietly through dark, empty streets. He was letting you calm down but your mind was far from it. You occupy yourself by counting the streets left to cross before you reach your apartment from the passenger window, wanting nothing but to get the fuck out of there and sleep.

“Y/N,” he starts. “What happened back there? Did anyone cause you trouble? Tell me what they look like so I can tell Penny and Mav about it tomorrow.”

You were thankful you had your hands tucked in, arms crossed over your chest, because you were certain if it had been anywhere else he could easily reach over and touch, he would.

When he was answered with silence, he tries again. “Were you hurt, Y/N? What did they do to you? Please tell me.”

“God, shut up. You’re making my head throb even more.”

“I will when you answer me. Even Phoenix doesn’t know what’s up with you back there. She says you just got up and left.”

“Maybe it’s just that.”

“I know you enough to know that it isn’t. Something happened that made you this upset.”

“Why do you care so much, Rooster? Dealing with you is suffocating.”

His mouth gapes incredulously, and if the car was stopped in a light he would’ve stared at you in disbelief. “Wha–,” he stutters. “Y/N, come on. Don’t be like this.”

“Like what, Rooster? Like a bitch?” You snort. “I already told you earlier I just needed my fucking bag. I didn’t ask for you to come drive me home. I’m only here because you insisted.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I–,” “I don’t want you to go home alone and upset. I hate seeing my best friend like this and not being able to help. I’m sorry.” There it was again, best friend. An affectionate word, even an achievement to have for others, but you never had a word that triggers so much hate in you as much as that. It sends your temper bubbling higher.

You scoff.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. If you’re mad at me, at whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not letting you buy the bluetooth microphone. I’ll get you a new one personally as soon as we get home.”

Now you really laugh, insulted, like salt being thrown haphazardly on your fresh scars. You should’ve cut this man off ages ago. “All this, and the best you can think of is that I’m fucking upset over a microphone. God, I’m really seeing everything tonight, am I?”

“Then help me out, Y/N! I’ve been sitting here going through tonight and yesterday night and the last week, wracking my brain for anything I’ve said or did that made you this upset with me.” He breathes, trying his best to calm himself down.

In a leveled tone he begs, “Please tell me what I can do to make this right.”

“You actually saying that unprovoked just proves everything I’ve realized tonight about you, Roos. I just feel stupid now trying to convince myself that you weren’t dense and selfish when it’s really all about you, isn’t it? You only get bothered when someone lashes out on you. Then you self reflect. You only care about your feelings, about your happiness. You don’t give a shit about anyone else!”

“What? You know that’s not true, Y/N.”

“Knowing you forever says the opposite, Rooster. You have the world in your hands and God forbid anyone upset you and ruin your night—”

“God, Y/N, I’m sorry that I can’t read what’s on your mind! If you can just tell me what the hell I did that got you this pissed so I can apologize for it, instead of saying cryptic and hurtful shit that I know you don’t mean then we’d have a better conversation, don’t you think?”

“Wow, so now you’re telling me the things I mean and don’t mean. You sure you can’t read my mind, Roos?”

“I know you’d never say those things to me because you know who I am. You think I’m shallow? Okay. That I’m narcissistic, fine. But saying I don’t give a shit about anyone, about you,” he pauses. “You know better than that, Y/N. I know you do after everything we’ve gone through—”

“So now you want to compare the shit we did, shit we sacrificed for each other during this fucking friendship? Alright, I’m down. Go ahead.”

“What— no! Fuck, Y/N, please. I know what you’re doing, you’re trying to hurt me, making me feel the way I made you feel.” He pleads, his voice getting hoarse from all the screaming. “Just please tell me what you want me to do to fix this. Please.”

“I want nothing to do with you.” It came off so easy from your tongue it’s hard to believe you held this back for years.

It surprised him too, so much so that he gave up trying to make you admit you didn’t mean it. The certainty in your voice scares him enough to believe as soon as he heard it. “Why?”

“Because I fucking hate you.”

You see shock, anger, and sadness and all sorts of emotions you can’t catch because of the tears blocking your vision flit on his face quickly. With a morose expression, he shakes his head in disbelief, blinking some tears away, willing them not to fall. You knew he’s trying to think you didn’t mean it.

But now with tears falling freely, you know you finally do. “​​Because you make me become someone that I’m not and I hate it. You make me jealous, you make me spiteful of the girls that come near you, you make me hateful and bitter that I can’t make you smile like you do with people who barely know you. And I know that’s so petty and immature and I know better than that but you just make me stupid and irrational.

You make me dependent on you for things that I can do myself. I can drive myself home I can do my own groceries I can take care of myself when I’m sick but now that you’ve weaseled yourself in my life these things aren’t the same without you. I hate that I got attached to this fucking car that eats up gas so fucking quick. I hate seeing your stupid Hawaiian shirts you always forget to iron. I hate your stupid fucking mustache and how long you take to fucking shape them.

I fucking hate how I get so weak when I’m with you that I get all the feelings I know I should’ve given up on ages ago and I know, I have fucking known for years that you’ll never feel the same way I do and yet here I am. I hate that I can’t quit you after all these years I’m still here and I love you and I can’t do anything about it.”

You also hate that unlike the confession scenes in movies have the heroine crying but still look beautiful, you had tears and snot dripping on your shirt and jeans and you only found out when you tasted some while sputtering and spewing out all the words that haunted you for years on Bradley.

Finally everything was on the table. You’ve crossed the point of no return and instead of feeling relief you felt spent, exhausted, and widely aware that you don’t have strength to face your best friend anymore. In fact, you’re sure you just lost yours.

Tears have blinded you to what you were facing and you could barely breathe from the snot build up in your nostrils, so you pull up your sweater to wipe and sneeze into until—

BONK!

A searing pain erupts from a specific point on your forehead and you clutch it while curses flow from your mouth, tearing up again because it fucking hurt and it made your headache ten times worse. Bradley must’ve hit you with something and you’re mad but you also understand why he’d do that.

But as you blink some tears away you see him cradling his forehead as well, groaning and cursing in pain, mirroring your actions.

What the hell just happened? Did he just headbutt you?

Turns out you’ve thought that one out loud. “I didn’t, you dumbass. You keep on fucking moving.”

He grabs your face, encasing it with his big hands forcing you to look at him. You stare at each other for a second and after everything you’ve exchanged in this car you want it to last until it couldn’t, because you knew this would be the last time you’d have Bradley this close. Even if his beautiful features are marred with pain and frustration and other emotions you couldn’t name.

He groans, pulls on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and wipes the snot and tears off of your nose and mouth haphazardly.

And then he leans in for a kiss.

There was a blink, a split second of silence, before the chorus of voices erupt in your head: your five year old self disgusted that you’re kissing that snotty Bradshaw kid; a ten year old you guilty and scared that Ms. Carole will get mad at you for not asking permission to kiss her son; thirteen, appalled that you were basically making out with someone that’s clearly not Emmett Richmond from Legally Blonde; seventeen year old you screeching, screaming ‘FUCKING FINALLY!’ and immediately searching for a Taylor Swift song to accompany this moment; and a twenty six year old Y/N more confused than ever that you’d still end up here, living your adolescent fantasy instead of finding someone new and better.

Yet amidst the chaos, you find yourself mute. In the moment, yes, you were hopeless against Bradley’s lips, yours following his lead like a teenager on her first kiss because you haven’t had (or probably refused to get) enough practice to do this thing properly, but you found it graceless, like trying to walk in shoes that were one size too big— not quite right. Like you couldn’t give yourself fully to the moment because something hefty still lingers in the air, left unsaid.

So against your past selves’ wishes, you pull away. Looking down, you refuse to look at him, afraid that his eyes will confirm your worst fear. “Please,” you whisper nervously. “Please don’t kiss me because you feel bad. That’s… that’s mean.”

An exasperated sigh escapes Bradley and two fingers tilt your chin to face him properly. There wasn’t any trace of guilt nor contempt on his flushed face. Just pure exasperation for all the things you’ve done tonight but you can’t let yourself be so sure. No falling for anything without full certainty and a vocal confirmation. You had enough of your fair share.

“God, you’re the smartest girl I know but you’re also incredibly dumb. I kissed you to shut you up and let you know I do feel the same thing because I know if I just say it you won’t listen because you’re too fucking stubborn.” He huffs.

Locking eyes with you, he quirks an eyebrow waiting if you have another protest to make. If you weren’t in this situation, you would’ve laughed at the ridiculous irked face he’s making. Maybe he is telling the truth, you tell yourself. Maybe this time, it’ll be right.

Deeming your silence and waiting, parted lips as an answer, he says sulkily, “Now, can I continue this without getting interrupted?”

You hit his arm as you nod. Your lips meet again, the kiss deeper this time around judging by the arm that now encircles you, attempting to pull you closer to him but failing miserably.

“Fuck this shit,” he grumbles.

“Language, Bradshaw, damn,” you chuckle, watching him slide off his seatbelt, putting the car on park and the hand brake on.

“My right foot fell asleep because I was stepping on the breaks this whole damn time.”

Now you really laugh. What a giant dork.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off as he reaches towards you and slides off your seatbelt. “Wonder whose great idea it is to confess feelings in the middle of a goddamn street.”

You didn’t get the chance to reply in between hysterics because he swiftly carries and maneuvers you around so you were straddling him, surprised at how comfortable it was. You never had him this close before and you sober up quickly into a mesmerized silence, just admiring how beautiful he looked this close, how the streetlight outside lands square on his face and you could see the speckles of green in his brown eyes, and how all of this is yours. God, saying that feels so foreign but right.

He lets your soft fingertips graze the contours of his face, from his lips to the tip of his nose before one finally settling lost in his curls and the other on the nape of his neck. You don’t know this yet, but he also had dreamed of this moment longer than he could remember.

Suddenly you get hit with a familiar wave of the longing in your pit for Bradley, only this time you can act up on it. So you did, crashing your lips onto his.

Like the other things you’ve imagined with him, this was certainly never in consideration. You’d imagine a spacious park, branches of a leaning tree lined with soft fairy lights that made both of you glow as he leans in, lips melding into yours perfectly as soft music crooned in the background. Instead you get a steamy Bronco two streets away from your apartment, and probably more odd locations in your place. Not that you’re complaining though.

—

You were going through some papers that needed to be graded on one of your students’ desk after class when you feel the presence of three amused pilots approaching you.

Even if you didn’t look up, you know by their steps that it was Fanboy, who took a seat in front of you, Phoenix, that sat next to you, and a snickering Hangman who opted to stand beside you, looming over your hunched figure.

“What did my kids do now?” You say, not bothering to greet them. Even if the students you had also took classes with some of them, you were adamant in calling them your children because despite of how much they annoyed you sometimes, you’ve gotten close to this batch and they to you. Some of the instructors would even ask you to sit them down and discuss about the mistakes they made in their other classes so you could work with them to do it better. Not without them holding you responsible when they act out (sometimes. It can’t be helped) of course.

“Oh nothing. They’re great, actually,” Nat replies. “We just wanted to see the beautiful face of our great Indigo today.”

Mickey pipes up. “Yeah, we didn’t even get to see you at lunch today.”

Moving onto the next paper, you say, “I was busy. But didn’t you guys visit my class earlier?” It was just Hangman and Fanboy casually walking across the back of the room, claiming to grab something very important (a random HDMI cord). They scooted out fast but not before getting a good look at your confused face. You thought you had something stuck to your teeth but you didn’t have your phone with you so you just tried to clean them with your tongue.

“Yeah. We did.”

“Uhuh. Need another cord?”

“No, we just need you to look at us, darlin’.”

You almost didn’t, half expecting Hangman to have a plate of whipped cream ready to smack your face, but food isn’t allowed beyond the cafeteria so you reluctantly raise your head to meet the expectant and scandalous looks on your friends’ faces.

No face smashing occurred, only a mesh of hollers, high fives, and nods of agreement.

“What am I missing?”

“Oh, nothing. We’re just happy you had fun last night with Rooster.”

“Took you guys too fucking long,” Mickey drawls, clutching his head in exaggeration. Phoenix joins him in agreement, grinning at you proudly like she’s your mom and you just got a medal for being a top student in class.

A sweat starts to break out of your forehead. You and Bradley didn’t tell anyone that you were together last night, hell, you didn’t even had time to discuss what you guys were now. The last thing you want is for people to make assumptions and you can’t tell them otherwise because you don’t know where you stand. ‘We just fucked all night in every hard surface you could think of, no big deal.’ won’t be an acceptable answer, especially when this reaches Maverick and Penny.

“Wha—,” you stutter. “I wasn’t with Rooster last night! Stop making up bullshit, Bagman.”

Jake just gives you that god awful smirk and nod combo that tells you he knows you’re full of shit right now.

You turn to Nat, desperate for your friend to back you up. ‘’Nat, I wasn’t with him last night I swear.”

She makes her way to your lap and hugs you sideways. You know you could always count on your wingman. “Oh, my sweet Indy,” she coos. “No need to explain. The same bruise you and Rooster have on your foreheads tell us everything we wanna know.”

[tinydeskwriter]

Traitor-Part Three

singer!reader

PART ONE; EXTRA ONE; PART TWO; EXTRA TWO

summary: time passed, but some feelings never go away…

word count: 2561

warnings: it’s a sad happy ending🤷🏻‍♀️

A/n:I know I said I would post it tomorrow, but I am kind of anxious for you guys opinion.  

Sooo, here is Part Three, I honestly hope no one will be disappointed, I choose to go with my original idea, and follow the path I always imagined,  I am sorry if some of you guys don’t feel like it… about a feel messages I received: Harry isn’t a bad guy, he isn’t toxic or shitty or treated her bad, he’s just human and made a series of bad decisions. 

I confess that I am a little insecure with what I wrote in this part.

As Traitor is coming to an end, I would really appreciate if you guys would send me ideas of what to write next, and remember: No idea is a shit idea.

I hope you guys enjoy it. xx Caro.

TRAITOR- PART THREE: After all this time?

2026

"Is this weird?" She asked as they danced to some sad old Taylor Swift’s song, they weren't looking at each other, her face was resting on his shoulder and his head was slightly tilted towards her. "Us here, after all this time?"

Harry sigh as he thought of the answer.

The dance floor was almost empty, most of the wedding guests had already left or in the case of those who are staying for the whole weekend of celebrations, retired to their teepees, those who stayed were just the closest friends an of the newlywed couple—most are sat around talking and drinking, probably waiting for a more dancing beat—, who would probably continue enjoying the party until dawn before Survivors Breakfast is served.

The wedding had been music festival themed. Y/n’s idea, of course.

An immense marquise of De Gournay printed fabric had been erected to provide shade for the tables. The dance floor had been set up outside —protected from drones by pretty white paper flags with laser cuts of the couple’s names, doves and flowers, and large greenery and white flowers garlands, fairy lights giving just a magical touch— in front of a stage where many of the musical guests had performed throughout the day, offering tribute to the couple—Justin Bieber sung four songs, John Legend serenaded the couple on their first dance, Zayn and Niall took the stage and sung old 1D songs was well as a few of their solos, Elton John offered a song to the bride, Mark Ronson DJed for Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus and Dua Lipa, who took the mic at different times during the day, Miley even forced Y/n to the stage with her to sing their featuring song; the DJ and band the married couple hired had almost no work to do as the guests got so excited in just having fun on stage performing for friends—. Teepees had been set up around the property as accommodation for the guests who stayed for the three days of celebration.

A merry-go-round and a Ferris wheel had also been set up, as well as a huge inflatable slide, and the adults were enjoying it as much as the children.

Love and Angel were still running excitedly across the lawn with some older cousins, with no signs of wanting to go to bed anytime soon, Niall was running after them like the overgrown child he was —Y/n blamed this on Anne for allowing them to take a long nap in the afternoon, and all the sugar they ate during the party, they would probably accompany the adults at the early breakfast—.

"Have I told you that you are the most beautiful bride?" He didn’t answered her original question. "I always knew you would be." Harry said, making her smile against the fabric of his custom-made dark green Gucci suit.

How many times had they not talked about a wedding? How many times had they not planned? How many times had she told him about her dream dress that Ale would make?

How many times has it felt like they would never make it to this moment?

It took Y/n a entire year of therapy before she got to the point where she was able to sit down with Harry and talk.

And they talked.

They talked about what happened, about the cheating, about the cruel breakup.

They just talked about them and how eight years had ended in such a bad way. Harry cried, his arms around Y/n, as she ran her hand on his back. He apologized for the millionth time, he said he knew he didn't deserve her or her forgiveness, and how disgusted he was with himself for what he had done.

Harry told her how he'd thrown up after the first time it happened.

How he'd let himself be seduced by all of the attention, how he'd missed her, and how guilty he.

The internal conflict for everything, how he wanted to tell her everything after she asked the first time, but he just knew that she would never forgive him, he was so afraid that she would leave him. In the end it made no difference. He told her how he'd listened to the wrong comments instead of listening to the right advices. Recreational drugs and alcohol played a part in his bad choices too.

In a lapse of judgment he did the worst thing he could have done in his life: He chose to break the heart of the woman he loved in an attempt to protect his own. Harry convinced himself that he could turn lust into love, but every minute with Olivia was a minute he remembered that he had broken Y/n’s heart.

He had lost the woman who owned him heart and soul since he was eighteen, and he knew he would never recover, he would never love someone else again.

And it wasn't anyone's fault but his own.

Harry wanted to die when she said how even against all her principles, she would have stayed with him if he had handled the situation differently, he bitterly regretted not talking things through, not listening to her, allowing her to leave that day, how he wished could go back in time —he was the love she had loved most, and she would never love anyone that way, she said—, and it killed him a little on how she used past tense.

Following her therapist advises—and Michael’s, he later learned— she apologized for all her petty revenge, the EP, the digs, all the times she tried to hurt him with words, even the children's names, though she genuinely loved the names she choose,—Harry admitted that it had been painful at first, Love and Angel, his nickname for she and hers for him, Helene, the most beautiful woman in the world, and Apollo, the golden Sun god, their ‘codenames’ from the summer they spend in Italy after he proposed—.

He got some hope on for them after their conversation, maybe not that moment, but in the future. For the time being he accepted her offer of friendship and the chance of co-parenting their children—he would accept anything just for the chance of being in her life again, honestly—. Harry even bought a house in Montecito just to be closer, spending more time there than in London.

And then he was introduced to Michael. Michael, who was no longer just a friend, but Y/n's boyfriend of a few months. And the way they smiled at each other killed him a little bit more on the inside.

Y/n was falling in love for the actor.

He recognized the signs, she looked at Michael the same way she had once looked at him.

Like he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky.

How he wished that moment to have a time machine, he would give away all his money for one, just to be able to go back in time and stop himself from doing the worst thing he ever did in his life.

‘She’s that kind of woman, you know?’ he remembered Niall telling him that day in April 2021, after he waived his custody rights, ‘you either stays by her side the rest of your life, or you regret leaving.’ the Irishmen hadn’t being angry with him, his old friend and bandmate pitied him. When he asked why, Niall, who saw Y/n as a younger sister, wasn’t mad at him, the other man just shrugged, ‘She’s no longer yours, I think this is punishment enough.’

Niall’s word hunted him as he watched the woman of his dream, the mother of his children, the love of his existence, take another man as her husband.

"I always knew I would dance with you in a wedding dress." He commented with a forced smile, and Y/n's heart tightened a little at the heartbreak she heard in his voice. "I just never imagined it would be at your wedding with someone else." He smiled sadly at her, as their eyes met. "I still had hope."

"Harry..." She tried to say, pity clear in her eyes.

He just rolled his emerald eyes at her playfully. "Don't worry My Heart, I would never try to come between you two," the man said, "but my hopes won't die until one of us do, even if it takes decades, know that I'll be here." Harry gave her one of his boyish smiles, making him look younger than his thirty-two years. "No matter how much time passes, you own my soul, and I don't think that will change just because you married another man."

Y/n had become Mrs. Michael B Jordan that afternoon.

They married in the 14 acres estate she owned in Chatsworth on top of a hill, in the presence of four hundred friends.

The bride wore Dior. She looked like a heavenly vision in the organdie princess gown costume-designed for her by Maria Grazia Chiuri— she wore other two dresses after, but Harry would never forget how she looked when she waked down the aisle— the seven-meter long veil she worn had been fastened to her head with golden birds—the birds still adorned Y/n's hair, but the veil had long since been removed—. She carried a bouquet of lilies of the valley and orange blossoms, like British tradition demanded —Niall’s girl caught the bouquet later that afternoon—.

All the decor was idyllic and delicate and fun, something expected from a bride like Y/n.

Denzel Washington was the officiant at the wedding at Michael’s request and Elton John played the piano during the ceremony, with Taylor Swift singing ‘Lover’ during the bride's entrance.

Niall and Zayn shared Y/n's 'Maid of Honor' role with great humor—the two walked down the aisle in light blue suits— not unlike the color used on the bridesmaids' dress worn by Hailey, Bella, Kendall, Gigi, Kylie and Dakota, they walked in with a few of Michael’s cousins and closest friends.

In the absence of a father and mother, the singer was walked down the aisle by two of her dearest older male presences in her life: Pedro and Oscar.

Y/n looked up to him, watching him with those beautiful eyes, that still held the power to melt him inside. She seemed to want to say something, but they are interrupted as she opened her mouth.

"Life?" Michael called her. Her husband now. He was smiling, carrying the golden copy of Y/n in one of his strong arms, Love was holding the man's other hand and Angel was following them, the two children had sleepy smiles, but the little girl in Michael’s arms looked alert. "Honey woke up, and wants mummy."

Harry let her go, smiling at the small group, Love quickly came to him asking to be lifted, while Y/n took her youngest daughter in her arms.

He smiled at the little girl in Y/n's arms as she waved at him with a smile. Honey was completely Y/n, there was nothing Michael in her face, if not for the coloring that was a mix of her parents.

Harry had drowned in a bottle of tequila when he got the news of Y/n's second pregnancy.

It was Love who let the news slip.

The reality that Y/n might never be his again became more and more real.

The engagement weeks later was like a knife to his heart, but he smiled and joked when Y/n showed him the ring—'It's smaller than the one I gave you,' and she rolled her eyes, the comment not even bothering her, 'not all are narcissistic and show off like you H'—.

He watched the woman he loves become a mother again, this time to a baby that wasn't his.

Honey called him Uncle Arry —they corrected her after the occasion when the little girl called him 'Daddy', because that's what she heard her older siblings call him, they all laughed, but Harry felt his own heart skip a beat—, it's impossible for him not to love the little girl, not only is she the adored little sister of his children, but also because she is a part of Y/n.

He felt Love settle on his shoulder, her arms around his neck, the tiny hand playing with the end of her hair as she let out a sleepy sigh.

Angel didn't look much better, practically sleeping upright against his stepfather's leg.

"I think I'll take Love and Angel to bed," Y/n said looking at the older children.

"Leave it to me," Harry said before she could continue, gesturing to Angel and taking his son in his other arm. "You stay and enjoy the party, I'll take care of the little monsters." He assured with a smile.

"Are you sure?" the woman asked with a frown. "I can..."

"Yes, Y/n, I'm sure, I'm their father too, and today is your wedding party, you deserve to enjoy it." The two looked at each other for a second before Y/n returned the smile.

"Okay, thanks H." She said approaching and kissing each of the twins good night, "Are you coming back?"

"Maybe I'll take the opportunity and sleep with them already." Harry commented, the truth is that he had already exhausted his dose of watching Y/n and Michael being a happy couple.

He was honestly glad she was happy, but he was miserable himself.

The singer walked away with the children in his arms, his head lowered looking where he was walking, while listening to Love murmur how the day had been splendid and Angel was already drooling on his suit.

"H?" He heard Y/n's voice call out to him, and turned around.

She came alone, and he could see Michael on the dance floor dancing with Honey.

"Yea?"

The woman stopped a short distance away from him.

"I want from the bottom of my heart for you to be happy, I still love you, and the possibility that you are unhappy kills me," she said with a wistful smile and teary eyes, "you are my twin flame, and I think what we were meant to be, but we did it wrong, and our time passed."

"I could never be unhappy having you guys in my life." He said with a practiced smile, gesturing to the children in his arms.

"It's okay to let me go and love someone else." Y/n said fondly.

"It would be difficult to find someone who could measure up to you in my eyes,” He said smiling affectionately. "You set a high bar.”

He choose not to say how she was it for him, how there would be no other woman in his heart after her, apart from the one he had in his arms that moment.

"You're a good man Harry, you do stupid things sometimes, but you're a good man." She said with a smile, accepting what he said, and letting go.

They smiled at each other.

"You should go back to Michael and Honey." He pointed with his chin somewhere behind her. "And I have to get these two to bed, they're really getting heavy."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I'll let you go then." The woman backed away, turning her back under the emerald gaze.

Harry watched her return to her husband's side, and as the two began to dance with Honey between them.

How he longed to be in Michael's shoes.

But he was paying for his sins.

She belonged in another man's arms now, and it was his own fault.

[floating-above-sea-level]

Queer SecurityWaiter/DreamTheory headcanons (part 2)

Featuring lots of Mike being trans. Mainly that, in fact 🫶🫶🫶

Mike:

-I said previously that he always assumed he was straight cause he’s never been attracted to dudes, but then I remembered “oh yeah wait he’s trans that doesn’t make sense” so to explain that, I feel like he’s one of those trans guys who kinda always saw himself as a boy, even if he didn’t really have a way to put it into words, plus it’s not like he really thought about attraction and dating much, so when he was younger, he probably was one of those “girls” who didn’t fit in with other girls, had mainly guy friends (out of the few friends he had lol), and thought romance and dating seemed gross, so he wouldn’t talk about it unless other people brought it up, and he’d have to fight for his life every time he tells people that he in fact DOES NOT HAVE A CRUSH !! (No one believes him because no one ever believes that. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of those kids who just named some random classmate that he thought seemed vaguely interesting just to shut people up)

-I’d say he probably came out as trans at around 18, after he graduated. He probably knew he was trans earlier than that, maybe like somewhere around 15-16, but he didn’t want to deal with coming out and transitioning socially so he stayed in the closet until it was easier to kinda just…cut people out lol. He’s stealth and kinda just transitioned best he could without people questioning him, which wasn’t hard with his parents falling out of the picture and not really staying in contact with anyone from school (frankly I don’t imagine he was very popular lol) so like…yeah

-had a “looks like a lesbian with a boyband/justin Bieber type haircut” phase somewhere in his teenage years. Kinda didn’t care when people rumored about his sexuality. He didn’t date anyone so it just doesn’t really matter, but if people asked him directly he’d just say he’s straight cause again coming out as anything just seemed like a hassle

-had his first and only date (before Ness) at like 19/20 years old, and (as far as I’ve heard from the people talking abt the apparent fnaf movie novel) it’s canon that the girl didn’t wanna go on a second date because “his eyes were too intense” (autism💥💥💥) it was some random girl who asked him out, maybe a coworker or smth who thought he was cute, and he just said yes cause he didn’t really know what else to do and figured he might as well since it’s certainly generally considered embarrassing to have never gone on a date before as someone old enough to be in college (which he didn’t go to cause 1: money 2: he had to take care of Abby 💔💔💔) then after he was like “yeah I was right idk what the hype is about dating seems lame” (he’s a little dumb /j)

-he’s in his mid-late twenties, and I think his been on T for like 2-5 years, so he probably started T somewhere around 20-23. Again, realistically, no idea how he’s affording that, but…he did it 🤗🤗🤗

-the day this man discovers trans tape is the day this man finally learns a bit of peace (not as much as top surgery obviously but certainly more than regular binding)

-I reiterate once again that he binds so unhealthy. Wears his binder at home, wears it out, wears it when exercising, wears it from when he wakes up till he goes to bed, and he only takes it off at night because he literally HAS to and even then he still wears a slightly tight sports bra cause bro is NOT DEALING WITH THE BOOBAS (someone please stop him please good god how are his lungs still functioning)

-god at dressing to pass. Knows all the hacks. Even before T he passed pretty well, he just looked young. He knows all the right exercises to shape his body in certain ways, knows all the right kinds of clothes and materials to hide and accentuate the right things, dresses and acts like a man pretty easily because bro is just like that, he’s the kind of trans guy who’s basically just a cis guy with titties /hj like i said before he uses man soap (3n1 energy), he gets man haircuts at man haircut places, he wears man shoes that give him some extra height (being very stereotypical and gender-roley here but that’s legit just how he is)

-on that note, man’s height dysphoria is AWFUL !! Not to call Josh Hutcherson short (though let’s be real he is a short king and he owns that shit ((still taller than me though 💔💔💔)), but Mike is 5’5, which to some people is short even by women’s standards, so yeah he definitely wears thick shoes and shoe lift things to help him get closer to around 5’7-5’8 on a good day, and he definitely lies abt his height when he can get away with it

-the kind of guy who gets dysphoria over literally everything (“do I look like a woman when I sit like this?” “Are my eyes too feminine?” “I feel like how I’m walking is gonna out me” “the color pink cannot touch my body” “no I can’t sing that song, it’s sung by a woman” “does the way I hold this look girly?” “Why does my smile make me look like a girl” “this shirt makes my chest look big” “do I write like a man??” etc etc. all while he literally has a beard and is built like a brick /hj /lh)

-generally speaking could not and never has cared less about romance and dating and sex and all that UNTIL NESS HAPPENED AND NOW THIS MAN IS HEAD OVER HEALS IN LOVE WITH THIS SILLY LITTLE TWINK MALEWIFE FEMALEHUBBY THEMBOSS 💥💥💥

-k sorry he’s just a little fruit but like literally for one person and one person only other than that he is/would be chronically bitchless and be pretty ok with that

Ness:

-has a type (trans people 💥💥💥 t4t royalty 💥💥💥) /hj

-but low key on a real note dude doesn’t really actually have a whole lotta preferences he just likes gays and autisms /hj

-does drag both ways and eats it up hardcore

-crossdressing doesn’t exist he just is gender. What gender? Yes.

-I literally can’t think of anything serious to say abt Ness’ queerness they’re just so 💥💥💥

-just a little fruit what do you want me to say

-THE girlfriend-boyfriend

-WHAT DO I SAY ABT NESS SHES JUST SILLY 💔💔💔

-my girlboy boygirl who just loves their little guy failure soggy cat of a man WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY ?? 💥💥💥

anyways that’s it I think I mainly just wanted to talk abt Mike’s transgenderism more which like can you blame me no you can’t he’s my meow meow 💔💔💔

[shawnssweetheart]

noticing that i’m going to be meeting shawn in a couple of weeks is surreal. it feels like it was just yesterday that i stumbled upon his first vine cover in 2013.

i was eight or nine years old and was instantly in love with this fourteen year old boy from the other side of my country. i remember showing all my friends and classmates his covers, saying that he was going to be HUGE.

no one believed me. they said i was insane that i thought “that wannabe justin bieber” was going to get anywhere but look at him now. words cannot explain how proud i am of shawn, he’s come so far from the 14 year old boy i found on social media all those years ago.

he’s helped me through so much and has saved my life more than once. i may not know shawn in person and he doesn’t even know of my existence (yet) but that doesn’t matter. it’s the way he makes me feel.

shawn got me through my middle school and highschool years. no joke. i got harshly bullied and all i had was his music. every time i came home, i would crawl into bed while on the verge of bawling my eyes out but then would start watching his little interviews and blasting his music until i felt something other than what i was currently feeling.

i whole heartedly believe he’s one of the reasons i’m still here today, and he’s already given me such an amazing experience. back when i was twelve years old, and i had gotten the worst tickets to his first world tour back in 2016. we were on the balcony second row to the back, while i was disappointed for a moment, in the end i didn’t care. i was in the same room as my inspiration.

one song in though, something crazy happened. his tour manager approached my grandma and i to ask if we wanted to get closer. we obviously said yes, but didn’t think about how much closer it would be.

turns out it was FUCKING FRONT ROW. i made eye contact with shawn as i walked down and nearly began crying. i couldn’t believe it. shawn mendes was performing five feet away from me — not even.

it was the best night of my entire life. no bully could damper my mood for the next little while, not even if they tried their hardest. i wore my concert shirt and bracelet like medals of honour. which they are to me.

so, yeah. i cannot believe that on july 2nd 2022, i will be meeting shawn mendes as this has been nearly TEN YEARS in the making. i will never EVER forget what shawn has done for me these years and continues to do.

[rinstars]

「 CRY FOR ME 」 ♡ ACT XI : AFTERGLOW

PAIRING : Suna Rintarō x Reader.

GENRE : Angst.

TAGS/WARNINGS : NSFW. Fake Dating. Unrequited Love. Profanity. Enemies (not really) to Lovers. Friends with Benefits. Not very canon compliant.

SYNOPSIS : You have been in love with your best friend Sakusa Kiyoomi for as long as you can remember. The problem? He is in love with somebody else. And for you to snag even the tiniest bit of his affections, it seems like you would willingly go through drastic measures.. Even if it means teaming up with his lifelong rival, Suna Rintarō

PLEASE LOOK AT THIS NOTE PLEASEEE PLEASE PLEASE IM NOT EVEN KIDDING PLEASE : This is NOT the last act yet!!!! There's still ACT XII then the epilogue. Calm down u guys. Sorry this took me like 10 billion years to finish but in return I gave this act my all. Dont give me the "___ is OOC" BS please. I believe hes someone who wouldn't say some of the things I put in this act but definitely would want to if hes given another medium. Overall, I think hes a very emotional person with ppl he loves. I am really proud of this act u guys. Hope u enjoy it hehhe

SONGS TO LISTEN TO : Cry by Cigarettes After Sex, All I Ask by Adele, Off My Face by Justin Bieber, Afterglow by Taylor Swift

TAGLIST : CLOSED

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There wasn't much to say as you sit in the passenger seat of your best friend's car as he drives you home from the trip that cost both of your hearts.

You fell in love with your best friend, went on a fake date to make him jealous, fell in love with that fake boyfriend, and got your heart broken.

Spectacular.

Just simply the best trip anyone could ever ask for.

Sakusa glances at you every five seconds and you feel bad that he even does. If anything, what he and Yura had was far more genuine than what yours and Rin's could ever be and yet, he's still the one looking after you like he wasn't six feet below the ground from the crushing revelations his girlfriend had for him when she said she has always liked Rintarō.

If someone so beautiful, amazing, and perfect like Sakusa could get their hearts broken—betrayed and left in the air by the person they treasured, you imagine that leaves someone like you with a heart in the gutter. And it's unfair. While no one ever said the lane to falling in love was easy and you were once a determined witness when you fell the first time, it didn't prepare you for the second time around. It didn't even serve to ease the pain—that maybe this heartache was just like the last one and the next one would be better. Rather, this was a painful reminder you couldn't be allowed to be happy. Not then, not now. It was an unfair realization.

More so, you weren’t a Sakusa Kiyoomi. You didn’t have men lined up in the doors to the locker room because everybody wanted a glimpse of the top Olympic athlete, even if it was in your sweaty, sticky form. You didn’t have that money. You were always a step too far from the kind of life Sakusa lived. No bachelor would ask for you because the only ones lining up your doorstep were those who smell of nicotine and party drugs. The ones who are too drunk to remember your face as much as you're drunk to even remember what you'd allowed to happen the night before.

You think this must be the one and only time Sakusa would ever get his heart broken. He's far too perfect. Too many options he could choose from. You? You were lucky to snag his attention as a best friend and get a little of Rintarō even if it was just for the shortest time meant to get the attention of another.

"Are you alright?" He rubs the pads of his thumb against your knuckles, soft and gentle voice you barely hear from Omi whispering against the confinement of his car.

He knows this question is futile. Nothing but words to fill the silence neither of you knows how to fix. He says it over and over for the sake of making both of you believe it was alright—that your heads didn't repeat it to you over and over about the fact that both of your lovers are left in the cabin doing God knows what.

"Yes, Omi. All great," you tell him monotonously and almost feel bad. He didn't deserve to be on the bitter end of your heartbreak but you also knew if anyone would understand your shift in mood, it would be him.

Are you okay?

Yeah.

Everything fine?

Sure, YN.

It's nothing but a cycle. A repeated throw of words that mean and weigh nothing to either of you. It's nothing but a bandaid to the wounds that wouldn't stop seeping through the thin gauze yet both of you are foolish enough to believe that it takes your mind off the pain—even if just for a minute, a second.

It was almost pathetic—your state, at least. Everything Omi is going through, you can understand clearly. There wasn't anything comical or even pitiful about his state. What he feels isn't pathetic. That was the love of his life. The only one he ever imagined, probably. You don't remember anyone who came before Yura and when they got together, the click and chemistry were instantaneous. It wasn’t easy to swerve away from conversations, of both friends and family, about how they'd probably end up together—married and with a small family. Two children of Japan's biggest tycoons, the heirs they'd make just as beautiful as them. It was difficult to even force yourself to believe they weren't made for each other then no matter how much it gnawed at your heart.

The turn of things right now for him is anything but similar to your comically pathetic and pitiful state.

Yours is a different story. You could laugh at yourself if you were nothing but a mere bystander watching everything unfold. You hurt and you blame yourself for it because that's the reality, isn't it? A girl who couldn't get a snag of her best friend's affections gets in a fake relationship with his nemesis to steal off his girl and get her best friend to herself gets what she wants but only when she already couldn't give a damn about having her best friend because she's already fallen for her fake boyfriend.

What did they say about getting a taste of your own medicine again?

Yura turned the tables on you. She played her cards so effortlessly and easily until you didn’t realize she was the one breaking all of you up. You didn’t think it was possible, not for a second, that she would do something so out of character—at least from how you knew her. But then, the whole plan about breaking Omi and Yura up wasn't your character either. Not to mention, you never really knew who Yura really was. She was just.. that girl to you. Beautiful, smart, rich, everybody's dream girl, prom queen, homecoming sweetheart—everything you could think of. The fact that Omi liked her was another testament that she might be a good person.

The scene just a few hours before you strapped yourself inside Sakusa's car is still very clear. Very vibrant. Very telling of the truths you wanted to tune out so bad. It was all the things you feared.

What more, she isn't the person you thought she was at all. And still, you didn't feel like you could blame her for it. She's very harsh with her truths. Incredible straightforwardness and confident jabs at your already breaking heart as she wraps a finger around your wrist to turn you around on the way to the front. Being with Yura had always put an undeniable stain on your pride. She always felt like someone out of reach—and maybe she really was. She had everyone you've ever wanted after all.

Sitting in the backyard for a moment to calm down seemed like a good idea when you stormed outside the room you shared with your fake ex-boyfriend. However, it was easy to realize that it wasn't. Not when a thin frame is walking gracefully towards you so noticeably. You knew she was there for you the moment you caught sight of her hair—to apologize or say something else, you weren’t sure. But you did know then that you didn’t want to have the conversation she'd asked you to have. You're too out of it, too shaky and too miserable for anything that has to do with her and Suna.

However, it was something inevitable.

You couldn’t escape her. Not with the way she said the first few words to attempt a conversation—no, a confrontation.

"I'm not sorry," her soft voice reached you, firm but gentle the way you've always remembered it to be.

The way she said it immediately pulls the break on your feet, swallowing thickly as you feel her grip on your wrist loosen. She knows you wouldn't run away. Not with what she just said. Not when you both know this is the only time this conversation is gonna happen and that if you don't push through it now, you'll never settle the tension that hangs in the air around you.

"It's what Suna would have wanted. We both know that," there was a tone in her voice you couldn't pinpoint. Pity?

"Excuse me?" you spin around, eyes meeting her hazel ones as she stares back at you hardly. There's a gleam in her eyes. You weren't sure when it stopped looking innocent for you but now all you can see is the hostility behind them.

"I'm sorry I hurt Kiyoomi, YN. I promise. I loved him, we had a great relationship," her eyes flash with remembrance. "But I'm not sorry I chose Rin or that I kissed him. I loved him more, I've always known that but I thought I was over him until you two were together."

You look back at her with indifference, inwardly wincing at what she's saying. Where she found the courage to talk about this with you, you're not sure. Why would someone run after someone's ex-girlfriend to tell her something like this? Sure, you and him were a fraud. But everyone believed it was real. Hell, you believed it was real for a good while. It was a genuine relationship to everyone who looked, everyone who watched. You liked to believe you put on an amazing act as someone with real beating feelings and if there was one thing you didn't need right now, it's to hear her say these things—or even talk about Rintarō.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you’re his ex and other than Kiyoomi you’re the only one stuck in between this whole mess we made. YN, I hope you know—"

"No, Yura. Why are you talking like that?" The infuriating itch catches up to you, running your fingers on your hair to push it back. This whole mess they made? She's speaking like this was always meant to happen and you and Omi were nothing but chess pieces mistakenly pushed to the side once everything is set for her win. However, you knew there's no way Suna was involved in how it all turned out because the whole purpose of both of you getting together was to snatch her back. So why was Yura acting like she expected this?

"Like what?" she asks almost innocently. The look on her face makes your fingers twitch. This was the woman who hurt your best friend, kissed, and took your boyfriend from you. You could only spend another second in her presence without snapping.

"Like I needed to hear this from you," you frowned back at her, brows drawing together. "What happens with his and my relationship are ours. Don't get in between it. You don't have to explain anything to me, Yura." you tell her slowly, internally wishing the conversation ends right there.

You notice the way she slightly steps back in mild shock as a response before regaining her composure and releasing a breathy laugh—almost as if in disbelief.

In return, you couldn't help but stand perplexed. When has Yura started being like this? She was always the last person you would've expected this from—at least from what you knew of her. It's a revelation seeing her even speak in this tone—albeit it's still a lot softer and kinder than you'd probably hear from anyone else in a confrontation.

Still, was it really that far-fetched? Or were you just blinded by whatever image Yura had painted in your head? It shouldn't be a shock at this point. She kissed Suna behind both your and Sakusa's backs. If you thought about it months ago, you never would've even guessed it was a possibility but now you're in the very face of the aftermath of that very kiss. Really, you could only know so much about a person. To begin with, you didn’t really know Yura very well at all.

You wanted to understand where this is coming from. Why her breaths get shallow by the second, why her lips were red and trembling as she takes you in. However, none of it makes sense to you. Trying to believe she was just another victim in this vicious turn of events is hard to swallow as you keep remembering the fact that it all began with her. Besides, what else could she ask for? Is there anything else you had that she didn't?

You recognized flaws. You recognized how easy it is to be swayed by emotions. Perhaps, if you weren’t on the painful end of this ordeal, you would've understood Yura wholeheartedly. But now, all you feel is disdain at her audacity to act like this in front of you. You couldn't find the humanity in you to feel bad about any possible thing that must have caused her to act this way—if there was any to begin with.

"I'm saying this because I don't need you getting in the way of us again, YN. I really can't take another time," she throws her head back lightly, snapping you back to the reality that this is really happening and not just an evil figment of your imagination finding someone else to blame and direct the hurt on. Fingers clenching on her sides like she's holding back from something—the restraint in her doing its very best at work, you take in the slight weight that's added on her voice.

"I don't believe I got in the way of anything at all, Yura," you shake your head intently. Determined to stop holding yourself back as you had nothing and no one else left to protect.

"You always get in the way of the things I want!" she cries in frustration, eyes blazing as it shines over. "Kiyoomi, Rin, everything. Everyone wants you. And I've had to always be the second choice."

A sensation bubbles in your chest. Heavy and thick as it slowly develops into a laugh that soon starts stealing your air and turning into a choke. The sting in your eyes as the wind blows into your face registers before you realize the fact that you're starting to cry. Biting your lip as hard as you can, you swallow the lump that painfully throbs in your throat.

"The things you want?" you manage to cough out, an exhale escaping your lips slowly as you feel the tingles spread on your arms. And it wasn't that you needed the answer, but it seems like Yura was determined to enlighten you anyways—every word out her lips making your head light.

"Do you know how hard I had to fight to even get Kiyoomi's attention? That party we were in, God, that stupid party," she laughs humorlessly. "It would've been damn near impossible if I didn't get you out of the way!" Her arms flail around her, frustration clear as she recalls the events in her head. When her head snaps back forward to look at you, she's all red-rimmed eyes—whether that's of anger or sadness, you couldn’t tell. Probably a mix of both.

And you knew exactly what she was talking about. That party. The first one you attended in Sakusa's world because he never bothered to before but needed the sponsorship for his Olympics then, leaving him no choice—and that's why he'd brought you with him. As if to ease the discomfort of being among obnoxious rich people with more sense than money. It was at that party he first met Yura. And it was a little after that that they'd begun dating. You didn’t even know how they'd met.

After all, how could you? How would it be possible when you were locked alone in a fancy granite balcony in the presence of cold winter air without your coat because someone thought it'd be funny to keep you out?

It wasn’t a traumatic event, far from it. Even if Sakusa found you an hour later breaking into sneezes every five seconds, you tried not to take the whole thing to heart. Although it was true that it steered you away from parties with people like them ever again, it wasn't like it left a deep scar in your heart. It was just what it is. An unfortunate thing but you didn’t allow yourself to keep dwelling on it. If anything, you believed it wasn't even intentional. Maybe they didn't see you were out and thought the air blowing in the room was too cold and they needed to close the doors to keep it warm. Maybe it was just an accident.

But now it all feels like it's clicked into place. Like everything suddenly made sense and you're seeing the full picture. By then, you couldn't help the helpless pang of pity that hits you. How she could think and act like this after taking everyone you've ever wanted was something you didn’t understand. And you only felt pity for yourself—even more than you did before. You didn’t want to wallow in self-despair but it seems to be the only thing following you.

Shaking your head, you meet Yura's eyes—blinking faster and faster as the wetness threatens to spill over your stinging eyes. "You got both of the men I've ever loved, Yura. I didn't get either of them."

Almost as if your words did something to her, Yura's eyes cleared up—the fog in them dissipating as she looked at you in understanding. "If you know that, then stop getting in between. Let us be, YN. Let's end whatever cycle we've put ourselves in."

There's an eerie sense of calm in the way she said that. You don't like it. "I don't know what you're talking about but if it helps, Rin didn't talk about you for a second when we were together. So do yourself a favor, Yura. Stop telling me these things because they don't matter to me."

The lie is bitter in your mouth because it does matter to you. What she thought of you then, what she thinks of you now. But at the same time, the truth is also sweet. The fact that Yura was never a part of your conversations with Rin save for the first few days you both began seeing each other makes you feel slightly better.

It wasn’t what Yura wanted to hear. Obviously so as she bites back, "And he hesitated to pull away when we kissed but you knew that, right? Because you saw us. You saw me kiss him and how he couldn't pull me away if not for your presence and his guilt nagging at him. So if it helps, YN, even if just for a little, remember that the next time you start thinking your place in his life ever compared to my place in his."

Now that puts you to a stop. Like your whole world crashes and the remnants of your already breaking heart start turning to ashes. The last of all hope is lost on you as reality rubs itself on your very face.

She's right. You saw it all clearly. But to hear her confirm it, the truth of Rin's hesitations and how he probably longed for her as much as she longed for him—you felt like you couldn't breathe. And it's probably a weak move, the one you did next, but you couldn't care less as you storm out of the backyard, going around the house to the front as you catch your breath—tears spilling all over your cheeks the moment Yura is out of your line of vision.

It was when you're rounding the house you start feeling like everything is suddenly moving in slow motion. It had been too late for you to hide your tear-stricken face on the figure you caught in the corner of your eyes and by the time you could react, the sound of the front door throwing open has already reached your ears and Rintarō is running through it.

You couldn't even stand to see his face right now. His angled jaw and straight nose are nothing but a reminder of what you and him weren't anymore. Of course. Of course, he didn't feel that way towards you. There was no way he would long for you when he'd been longing for someone else for the longer part of his life. There was no way his heart would hurt at the mere thought of what you had coming to an end. How could he when he didn't love you? When whatever he probably felt for you then was all gone the moment he's in front of Yura again?

But still, he's calling your name. Shouting it like he didn't let you go just an hour ago from the bedroom you're both supposed to share. His shoes make a loud sound as he puts his weight into running—the pavement beating as he tries to catch up with you. Near the cabin, just a little around the corner to the right, you see Omi opening his car door—catching your eye before signaling a nod that says he'll be waiting for you inside.

Far out of the house, you give up on trying to hide your emotions any further. Taking a deep breath, you stop from your running just as a familiar set of slender and calloused fingers wraps itself around your wrist. As soon as it registers, however, you're pulling his arm away from him—turning around immediately to try and put the best version of a glare you can put out right now.

"Where are you going?" he breathes out just as the warmth of your fingers slips from his cold ones.

He sounded frantic. Like this is the first time he's absorbing the real meaning of things now that it's ended this way. His voice is pitched slightly higher while the fingers that were once around your skin rake across his deep brown hair—all messy, much messy, than the last time you've seen him. Your eyes look over his shoulder, his reflexes acting faster than his mind as he takes a step to block your vision—lightly shaking his head pleadingly.

"I thought we talked about this," there wasn't any energy in your voice. You're exasperated, shoulders slumping as you settle to look at his foot rather than his face.

"We haven't talked about anything!" the sudden volume in his voice makes you wince. You didn’t want to think about the desperation pouring from his pores. Didn't want to spend even another minute thinking he cared about you like you wanted him to.

He's probably riddled with guilt that he's getting her and you don't have anyone. That's possibly the only reason why he's acting like this.

"I want to end this, Suna, please," you exhale and speak with as much firmness as you can, refusing to let the shivers break you even as goosebumps rise on the surface of your skin. "You don't understand. I just—please, I want to go home with Omi right now. Let's stop doing this."

With that, Rin takes a step back. Like you just smacked him and he's in the middle of recovering from a blow he didn't see coming. It was then you decide to meet his eyes, the frown in his features evident with the tight clench of his jaw. You couldn't tell if he was even still breathing, but you used that as an opportunity to escape—brushing your shoulders with his and hearing him exhale shakily in return.

The decision killed you. It felt like a knife was being twisted inside your chest and the blood was uncomfortably seeping through your clothes. There was nothing to smile about. Nothing for you to feel good at. Every step away from him felt like goodbye. Every air you breathe without the swift scent of his cologne felt like oxygen was being cut from you.

Despite all that, what you'll probably never know is the fact that it kills Suna ten times over. To see you walk away from his life for what feels like the tenth time. That the blood he feels as if it's staining his shirt is creating a puddle that threatens to drown him from his feet.

What's worse? He lets you.

◇

It was a normal day at best. Seeing as it has only been a week since you and Omi drove away from the cabin, it's a miracle you're even out of your house. You don't have it in you yet to be sociable and mingle with others—especially not when your only friends are the ones you share with him and you're almost 100% certain they definitely knew at least the gist of what happened, you have close to no one left. If it wasn't for Omi, you'd practically be alone and wallowing in your despair.

That's when you realize you don't really have anyone else that's close to you. Not even something like a hobby to take your mind off of things. Not a single sport you're good at. You're smart, you make a great amount of money from working in an Engineering company as one of the group leaders but it's hardly something you could call yourself passionate about.

Sakusa is different. He seems to be taking everything way easier than you. You don't understand if he's just putting on a front or he's just accepted it within himself that whatever he had with Yura was over. He has his cousin Komori, at least. And he has volleyball to keep himself occupied. If there was only one thing he loved more than he loved her, it was volleyball. You didn’t have anything like that.

You could've complained but you really couldn't find it in you to ask for anything else. At the very least, you weren’t groveling as much as you used to and you had Omi with you.

The only thing not normal about this day is your lunch appointment with one of Suna's closest friends—who, as time went by, happened to also become one of yours in the few moments you've been in each other's company. He'd insisted on meeting. Said he hasn't seen you since that day you left earlier than everyone else with Omi. He hadn't mentioned if Yura and Suna stayed and went home with them. If she rode in his car because she didn't bring her own seeing as she came with Omi. He didn't tell you how Suna acted since that time you told him you wanted to end it and looked like you'd struck a painful cord inside him.

That was for the best, you figure.

You weren’t trying to find out they'd slept together the last night in that cabin and spread each other's scent on either yours or Omi's sheets. But maybe seeing Osamu would bring you the closure you needed. That trip ended so abruptly for you and you regretted not having the chance to say goodbye to your friends. It's been a week now. You're ready to face the memories of that day. It helps a lot that Osamu wouldn't put you in a tough situation or press you about the topic.

"Hey," you mumble quietly with a smile which he returned, standing up from his seat to hug you sideways. He's already in his seat by the time you've arrived.

Shaking the snow from your hair, you look at the seat he's chosen and suddenly feel a rush of gratefulness that you had the glass walls to distract you from the awkwardness of how everything felt. It wasn’t Osamu making it awkward. It was you, if anything. You felt ashamed at everything that happened and dragged them into.

"Should we order?" There's a softness and edge to Osamu's voice at the same time. He's kind but confident. If being friends with Suna was anything to go by, you're pretty confident he's a lot more of a smug playboy than he plays it out to be with his close acquaintances. Not that you minded. The Osamu in the streets didn't concern you like the Osamu with his friends. At the very least, he's a lot less loud than his blond twin.

Shrugging, you meet his eyes with a quick, "Yes."

He insisted on ordering for both of you, standing up to the counter and returning with a plate of pasta and garlic bread. You didn’t fight him on doing it. He'd been the one to invite you anyways. The appetite and energy couldn't be found in you despite your wishes. It was probably dramatic but Suna played a bigger part in you than you'd care to admit. A week is hardly enough to put an end to the pain that kept you up at night.

You stab your pasta mindlessly, chewing on the garlic bread occasionally to appear like you're enjoying the meal. You didn’t know why you're even here to begin with. There's a question hanging in the air you wished he would just get over with.

Osamu eyes you toying with a ring on your finger. It wasn’t anything significant. Just an accessory that seemed to click something in Samu's mind—seeing as he suddenly decided to speak.

"His ring was a present from Yura," he began slowly, and just like that, the breath was slowly getting knocked from you. "She got it in an arcade when they were together and made him promise not to take it off. One time, years ago, Suna was drunk out of his mind and snapped when a girl tried to slip it off his fingers and play with it while sitting on his lap."

The shake of his head tells you he didn't exactly agree with the ring—or perhaps the sentiments behind it but you don't say anything. You didn’t know why you had to hear this. Everything you learned about Suna and Yura was just another nail to your coffin. At the same time, you don't stop Osamu. You didn’t want to. Their history has always been a mystery you wanted to solve but you didn’t have the courage to ask it from the man, Suna, himself and hear the love story that would send you crumbling. Now, you had nothing left to break. He'd taken that heart with him when you arrived at the cabin.

"Yura said it was a promise," he swallowed like he didn't really want to talk about Suna's business to me but felt like he had to. He probably felt bad. "A promise she'd understand him even when no one did. She was a force in his life. Only she matched his energy and Suna was afraid he wouldn't find that rush again."

"He could've found a woman crazy about him just about anywhere," you wanted to scoff but settled for an awkward laugh.

"He was young when they met. Not to mention they met when—" he hesitated but one look at your eyes and the dullness behind it had him confessing with a heavy breath. "When Sakusa cut his chances off with you. They were both young and he felt like he found a match. He said something about her being the only woman he'd ever probably crave next to you once when we were much younger. But you were off-limits since he found out whose best friend you were. So, eventually, all that drifted onto Yura."

"I don't understand why you're telling me all this, Samu," you frown at him, beating of your chest so loud, you could practically hear it. "Their love story is not my business."

"Maybe," he agrees before his gaze hardens on the drink in front of him. "After all, I knew it was a bad idea the moment I found out you were dating."

"Then why—"

"But she'd dragged him along for five years. Made him think only she could possibly match that attitude and understand the way he glared at almost every fucking thing he sees because he's never in the right mood. He doesn’t know another love than what Yura showed him, if you could even call it that, YN," he grimaces as he says that. "Then she'd gotten in a relationship with Sakusa and he felt like she betrayed him and got another woman taken from him the second time."

"I thought they hadn't been talking anymore when she and Omi got together?"

"They've always been talking, YN. She came home that week and brought the hope it was just any other week in their lives. A week that meant Suna would stop seeing his regular fucks in town because she'd left hers back overseas. That was how it's always been for them. Many guys, many girls but only each other when they were in the same town."

You couldn't say anything back at that. It sounded like he was telling you they always found a way back to each other and making a point that was the reason they're back together again—dismissive about the facts they'd just broken two innocent hearts... Okay, not that you were any innocent in this outcome but still. Watching you carefully for any reaction that would tell him to stop, Osamu felt like he was drawing his own conclusions by looking at your face alone. He could tell exactly what you were thinking because he continued immediately. Probably to make clear of what he's trying to say.

He keeps breathing heavily before continuing. Like this conversation is hard enough for him to bring up. Like he isn't the one who had this idea in the first place. "He'd sworn he didn't like you that way anymore and he's forgotten about you all those five years. Then suddenly, you're there and you aren't off-limits anymore—the one other woman he's wanted as badly as he wanted Yura."

Looking away, you find the strength in you to mumble, "He very obviously doesn't want me that much if we're having this conversation."

Osamu just looks at you for a long time. You weren't sure if seconds or minutes passed but he just stares at you—gauging if he's making the right decision and you'd get what he was trying to say.

"YN just—" he leans back in his chair like you and Suna both exasperated him but he's too good in the heart to let it slide when he could've done something about it. "I'm saying, he definitely feels for you. He's goddamn stupid but he's also confused because that.. woman, has engraved herself so deep in him and whether he wants to admit it or not, he's clinging on to that younger years they both shared even when he didn't feel that way for her anymore."

Your heart hurts listening to him say all this. The truths you'd probably never pull out of Suna yourself. What was Osamu thinking? Of course, you understand what he's trying to say. Better than anyone, you're probably Suna's greatest witness to the desperation he had for Yura. It made your chest ache to think about what he'd gone through—the image of a boy who'd wanted someone to be his match so bad he'd settled for someone who was so good at making him think he wouldn't be able to find another. Maybe that's why her ring was so significant to him even during the time you were together. He's been made to think if the plan failed then he wouldn't have anyone left and he wanted the love he thought she gave him.

You resented him. Resented how you had to hurt because you didn't realize the gravity of what he felt for her. You disliked the way you hurt, the way it felt like no matter the signs he showed that he wanted you he still felt so weak when faced with her. And you hated him. Hated him for letting himself get played as much as he'd let Yura play him. Hated him that he's been wanting her for five years when you probably would've loved him far greater than he's ever experienced if he'd only still felt for you then.

"Samu," you begin, eyes stinging as you suddenly feel sad again all over. "I don't know what to do."

He nods at you in understanding, fingers drifting to rest on top of yours in the table before smiling gently. "I'm not asking you to do anything. Suna just pisses me off with how he works things out and I know he'd never tell you about it. If it helps at all, figured I'd be the one to tell ya."

Just as you are about to thank him, he follows up with more words. Each one of them knocking you over, "I've never seen him want to be over her so badly, YN. Until you. He cares a lot about you, more than he'll ever care for Yura. So do what you have to do. It doesn't have to include forgiving him for whatever he did."

◇

 The snow was still as thick and heavy as it had been the day you left him. The coldness of the air still stings your cheeks and your fingers are cold like they've been made from ice. With that, your heart still felt as heavy as it was two weeks ago. You still feel like you could go crazy just thinking about him. There's an overwhelming surge of pain and love when one of his favorite songs would play in the playlist you didn’t even realize has been filled with all of the songs he always used to hum.

These days, it feels like all you ever do is hate. Hate the way Yura got to him first, hate the way you love him even though you're hurting, hate the fact that sometimes love is not enough and you feel like your heart will never be back to what it once was. You loathe how it's so hard to make yourself believe he would never long for her again. Hell, it's even hard to believe he truly liked you that way.

Maybe it was stubborn. Especially when someone's been telling you he cares. But you didn’t think you could handle someone just caring. There's an expectation you wanted him to meet. And it was selfish. So selfish but you couldn't bring yourself to even think you deserve any less after everything. Besides, even if you didn't find out what you did about Yura and she was just another girl in his life, the heavy feeling of once again not being enough and going through what you did with both Omi and Suna scares you.

Deep inside, there's an annoying itch that tells you nothing will be different regardless of what you know. Nothing will miraculously change just because a friend of his told him to get over Yura like she didn't once mean the whole world to him. You felt like you should understand. But it was hard when you're blinded by all the wrong things there is to find and say about Yura. Moreover, nothing's changed at all for the past week because you're too hurt to talk to him. You've all but given him the idea that you even want to talk to him anymore. Still, there's hope bubbling inside you. Maybe he'll break in first. Just this time, you wish he could just brush off your wishes and talk to you first.

Whatever that talk would lead to doesn't even matter. You just wanted to talk to him. Hear his voice. Pretend like everything is fine with the first hello on the other side of the line.

Staring at your phone felt like an eternity. His name blinks at you. With a black heart on the side because he insisted it looks way better than the other colors. The thought almost made you smile. He was so childish with little things sometimes and he never failed to make you laugh.

The contact name taunts you. Your finger has hovered over the green call button more times than you have probably blinked in your life. He's just directly across your house. What's making this so hard? You probably should have just walked straight up his walkway and act like everything is fine and you just wanted to talk. His birthday was tomorrow. Maybe that excuse would be good enough.

Another sigh and a failed attempt at finally pressing a button, a notification makes you jump from your seat—eyes stinging as you look at the same black heart you've been begging the heavens to talk to you, finally being the first one to give in.

Rin 🖤

I miss you so fucking much I can't spend another second not sending this and letting you know. You know I do.

Your eyes immediately water at his words. He's never texted you like this. More times than you can count, he's only ever made you laugh with his messages. Now, he sounds and feels so vulnerable that you allow your heart to hurt for him even just a little. He didn't deserve your antagonism.

To: Rin 🖤

Happy birthday, Rin.

Rin 🖤

Not for another day, baby. Wait a bit more and tell me in person tomorrow.

You don't attempt making a comment or correcting him on that. Not when you don't even realize the way your tears have started falling until there was a small drop of wetness on your thighs. Falling on your couch, you clutch the phone to your chest. Glancing outside of your window to his, you can't help the clench in your heart when you don't notice his car in the driveway—lights turned off and not a sound playing from his playlist. Maybe meeting him tonight is wishful thinking after all. Maybe he's with her. He probably missed you but it wasn't enough.

Perhaps it was these lack of expectations. The building anxiety and doubt that threatens to suffocate you. Perhaps you've felt that way because, with the smile that graced your face when you saw his obnoxiously expensive black car light up his driveway, all the negatives would have been worth it.

Like he senses you watching him from your window, his eyes meet your just a second before he's turning off the ignition. It was then the both of you felt an almost painful invisible pull. He looks at you like he's asking for permission. Like there are so many things he wants to say but only if you let him. The choking is heard in the air before you even register you're sobbing—eyes turning heavy and it falls down your cheeks with a slight nod of your head.

And just like that, like he saw the nod before you even gave it, he's opening your front door—wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his nose on your neck. He lets out a sigh of relief the moment your warmth envelops him and he swears he could feel his heart break a thousand times over. He breathes you in like he'll never breathe again. The wet kiss he pressed on your bare shoulders lingered until his fingers were drumming on your skin.

"Hit every fucking red light the moment you replied to me," he mumbles almost incoherently, palms sliding to your backside before he's pressing you on the wall. There's no way he could get enough of you, he thinks. You fit so perfectly in him. Every gap he didn't know he had, you somehow magically fill in. He could touch you for the rest of his life and not once complain about it.

"I was waiting for you," you groan breathlessly, stomach tightening as he trails open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your mouth. You could feel his cock pressing on your thigh and suddenly the need could overflow in the room.

You were waiting for him. Literally and figuratively. Like this is the one and only time you have in the world to be with him, you've waited because you knew he'd come. You waited to feel his lips again every night. Waited to feel him around you, touching you like he wouldn't have anyone else in the world but you. You're still waiting for him.

You hope he'd wait for you too.

After this kiss. After the sex. After tonight.

That hardly matters in your head now, however. He's here. Two weeks after everything, he's right in front of you. Kissing you so hard like it makes up of everything he could only wish he could put into words. He squeezes his eyes like he's in pain every time you make a sound of pleasure. There's such a grand pain in his heart he's not sure he'll be able to overcome right now. He pushes all the thoughts out of his head, because at least, for now, he has you. Tomorrow can wait.

"I'm sorry, baby," his words grow muffled as he whispers on your lips, brushing his own with yours in a silent ask for permission. Connecting your lips with his, you both let yourself go for the night. "So fucking sorry for everything."

You crave him. Very much so that your heart wants to tear itself apart inside. You're both way past pretending you could last another second without being wrapped in each other. You could hardly breathe if his scent wasn't filling your senses.

Grabbing your thighs from the back, he lifts you up—legs wrapping around his waist as he wraps his hands on the side of your neck, angling it slightly to him and brushing his thumbs on your skin. Like a magnet connecting both of you together, he gently presses his lips—the saltiness of your tears staining his tongue until he starts feeling bitter again.

Disconnecting from the kiss, you look into his eyes. The lump in your throat so strong, you couldn't just swallow it no matter how hard you try. "You're my everything, Rin. It hurts so bad,"

"I know baby," he shakes his head, forehead pressing to yours. The quick rise and fall of his chest move in rhythm to your own. His heart beating as it is breaking with yours. He knows where this is leading. Can hear it in your voice. See it in your eyes. But tonight there's just one thing he wants, "Please. Just for tonight, baby. Pretend one more time for me. Like you'd still take me and that whole fucking trip never happened. Baby, please."

Desperation drips from his voice—raw and frantic. Like if he didn't say it then, he'd lose you forever. Suna thinks it was funny how much he could want you this second but be willing to let you slip from him so easily—if your happiness would depend on it. You're shaking beneath him. Eyes never leaving his because you're just as afraid he'll disappear.

Nodding against him, you feel the sobs wrack your whole body. Squeezing the words out of you, you tell him in response. "Please."

Please if just for another night.

Please touch.

Please love.

Please make you cry for him because it makes you feel the way your heart beats for him. Makes you feel alive. Makes you feel like you're experiencing the love you'll probably never experience again.

Suna pushes you away from the wall, lips never leaving yours as he carries you to your bedroom. You deserve better than a wall fuck. You deserve better than being pressed against a cold, hard, drywall. Smoothing the hair from your face, he takes you up the stairs with one arm wrapped around your waist. The tears won't stop falling for you. The more you look at him, the more you break.

"You're so beautiful," he breaks your trance with a whisper, gentle and slow on your lips. He wants to call you his. Wants to tell you he's yours but he didn't.

He's lost the privilege to call you that a long time ago.

Laying you down the bed, he's gentle as he grabs the sides of your underwear—slipping it down your legs but not breaking the contact with your eyes. His chest is caving in. You're the most beautiful, most amazing woman he'd probably ever be with. He didn't have to look down and away from your eyes to be able to tell you're perfect. His own throat tightens up.

"Are you sure you want this?" He dips a head on your neck, kissing your ears softly as he asks you.

"More than anything in the world, Rin," a sad smile grazes your lips, fingers threading through his already longer hair.

Pulling the rest of your clothes off with his, he slowly lowers himself down, lips on your jaw as he slowly pushes himself in. His hips stutter, the feeling of your warmth against him making him lose his mind. The way you wrap around him. The taste of your skin.

Then, suddenly, it feels like he's forced into the realization that tonight would be the last. He didn't know why. You didn’t need to tell him but everything about tonight feels that way. He tries to savor every single inch of yourself you're willing to give him.

You can't stop the tears falling from your cheeks. It was both pathetic and embarrassing you're crying at such a moment. But you leave tomorrow. Five thousand miles away from him seems and feels like you'll ever get a taste of this again any time soon.

This isn't the goodbye you shared that day two weeks ago. This isn't anything like the screams or the begging. Nothing like the doubt and the hurt that he didn't love you like you loved him. There isn't a trace of selfishness.

This is what goodbye really is.

This is saying goodbye to your one true love—for how long, you didn’t know. This is accepting that sometimes love is not enough to keep two broken souls together. This is a goodbye that would stick. A goodbye that wouldn't allow texting until the other shows up in front of the other's door because it was physically impossible.

Sometimes it was hard to remember who you were before someone special walked into your life.

With Rin, it was the complete opposite.

It's hard to forget what life was before him because all it ever was then is a monochrome of all the things you wanted and couldn't have. All the things you wished for in hopes it might finally make you happy. You remember every moment of your bleak life eight months ago. The routine you fell into, the expectations that broke you. It wasn’t at all hard to forget.

Because you remember exactly when all of that changed. When you looked forward to text messages that would come in at two in the morning because you knew you'd get to see him skate. He'd laugh at you when you ran and almost felt like fainting trying to catch up but that hardly mattered because he'd take you out to drinks and ice cream after. Pulling you in his lap when he played his games suddenly become your most comfortable position and location.

He wasn't there then he was suddenly everywhere.

And God, did you love him. You loved him so much and the feeling of him stretching you out. Your heart beats so loud for him that every inch of you welcomes him. The pain you feel for him—for the kind of life he lived with Yura and the things he put you through, could only be so strong because you adored him.

With his last thrust, orgasm spilling inside you as your thighs shake and you come apart with him, you reach for his neck—wrapping two arms around him as you cry out in pleasure. He rocks against you a few more times, riding his high with your name falling from his lips with a groan.

When you both regain your breath, he doesn't collapse on top of you immediately. Holding your eyes, he props himself up with his elbows—gaze scanning your whole face like he's trying to memorize what he would miss. Then, with a soft voice, a shaky smile, and so much emotion to break him apart, you tell him,

"I love you, Rin," you don't hesitate. And it wasn't a declaration like the last time. You simply wanted him to know. And you'd let him know as much as you could tonight.

This was the love he was supposed to have gotten then. You wanted him to know someone loves him as much as you do that the love he believed in then would pale and fade from him. You wanted him to understand that despite everything, you love him and it was the kind of love he should believe in.

Not even this goodbye would erase it.

"I love you so much," you repeat because he'll probably not hear it from you for a while and you didn't want him to forget.

You wished you could have stayed. That you were strong enough to believe in both of you. That you could forget everything that happened along with the pain that came with it. But you weren’t. You didn’t want to lose sight of what you had. What you could possibly have. But tonight is where you say goodbye. This is where you draw the line.

You'd be losing each other, for now, but he wouldn't be losing you.

And if a month from now, a week from now, the love is still not lost on you, then maybe you'd find yourself again. In the afterglow, when everything after the storm has calmed. When you could love as much as you want to because the harsh burn of the sun has settled.

He smiles at you sadly in return, reaching out to brush your cheeks and kissing you until you fall asleep. He held you and you could feel the beat of the heart you know longs and beats for you. You could feel the warmth in him. There's the light way his hair tickles your shoulders. The steady rhythm of his breath lulls you to sleep. He rubbed your spine as you lay on his chest, the calloused touch of his fingers as a result of years of volleyball another addition to the million things you'll miss from him.

Morning came faster than you could have prepared yourself for. The light coming from the blinds makes you squint. Your inner thighs hurt, your breasts sore. A reminder of the events that transpired the night before. You feel sticky and hot all over but there's a noticeable kind of coldness on the other side of your bed.

You didn’t set any expectations. You knew he'd be gone by the time you opened your eyes. You probably even felt it when he slipped away from you because you could clearly remember stirring from your sleep. Still, looking at the side he was supposed to occupy, your heart drops to your stomach. He hadn't even stayed to say goodbye. He asked you to wait another day for his birthday greeting. Now, you couldn’t do it with a final kiss on the lips you'll be missing for months to come anymore.

It's like there was hardly any evidence he was even there last night.

If not for the pieces of paper folded neatly on his side—blending so nicely to your white sheets, you almost missed it.

With shaking hands, you grab the papers. You didn’t know if you wanted to read the things he was going to be telling you. Maybe he'll tell you finally that you were wrong about him. That he still loved her and would love her for much longer. You don't believe you're ready for it. You don't think anyone is ever ready for something like this. But you suck it up, lean back on the headrest of your bed, and start to read.

YN,

     I don't know how to start this. There's a lot of things I need to tell you. I'm writing this as you walk away from me, in the cabin I'm supposed to stay in for another day without you. Without your warmth, without your voice. I only had your scent left but now all of that's gone too because I made the mistake of getting too close with a woman who wasn't you. A woman I'd never feel for as much as I would ever feel for you.

     I'm stupid. Osamu has told me over and over again that I would never make the right decisions while I'm hung up on someone so badly. He'd said I'd never be with someone who wouldn't leave me hanging if I kept hanging on to someone that wouldn't even commit. It's ridiculous because I never lived by that advice. I never listened to Samu until you were in front of me and I wanted nothing more than to shake her hold on me. I didn't realize it was at that point, YN. And I was so mad at myself I let it become a part of me for so long that I couldn't remove myself from it fast enough to make you stay.

    I failed you. What this is is probably both karma and self-sabotage. I've done things I'm not proud of. I see it now. I should've done a million things better. But all I did was choose the wrong things.

    It was always a bunch of couldn'ts for me. Couldn't commit, couldn't move on, couldn't choose the right things. And in return, all I've wanted from you was your coulds. That you could somehow accept that I'm messed up and couldn't get my shit sorted out, that you could love me despite that, that you could understand.

    And I feel so bad, baby. Because you could. Over and over again. That's all you've given me. All I've asked from you, even in secret, I got in return.

    You don't need to ask from me. I know I've put myself in a situation I need to fix whether someone asks me for it or not. I wished it was that easy so many times, YN. I felt like I was so close. I was almost there and I'd run out of time.

    That was all my fault. You don't have to tell yourself maybe you could have waited longer, another could, because you don't have to. You've waited long enough. None of the reasons why we didn't work out your fault. It was all mine.

    I wouldn't want you to keep waiting. Don't wait for me, YN. I'm not worth waiting that long over. I don't want any more of your memories of me to be with so much hurt. Not when the ones I have of you are possibly the best moments of my life.

    2nd-year high school was the best memory I had of going to school. You were in the crowd, in the seats close to the court because you were watching Sakusa Kiyoomi play and I looked at you. I thought then you were the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. That you could have the worst personality and I wouldn't even mind.

    It was the first memory I have of feeling like I was in love. I was so young and it's ridiculous to even think a sixteen-year-old could ever feel like that.

    I don't know why I let your asshole of a best friend get between me then but that was the worst mistake of my life, clearly. Then it's all what-ifs. What if we had met then? What if I didn't let anything stop me? I saw you everywhere after that. For years after. And while the beat of my heart dulled for a little, it never got quiet, YN.

    Then I see you again, so fucking close eight years later with that look in your eyes. Like you loved Sakusa so much and he didn't love you back. I didn't know why there was an urge for me to make sure you never felt that way again. My heart beat so loud I'd never believed more that it really exists inside me.

     From that moment, the only memories I've ever had were those that I'll never forget.

    How did I let all of that go to waste? How did I mess up something I've wanted so bad?

    I'm so fucked up.

   Now you're sleeping beside me. On the last night I'll see you, at least for quite some time. I don't know why this letter has gotten so long. But maybe there were just so many things I wanted you to hear but couldn't say. There were also things you probably didn't want to hear but I wanted to say anyway. I'm a selfish bastard.

    Even as you kissed me on the lips and told me you loved me over and over, I couldn't say it. I didn't want to because you never would have gotten to the airport if I did. Because I'd be too selfish to let you go. Because hearing me finally say it would make you confused. I know it would. And I didn't want that.

    Love is not supposed to hurt, YN. And I've hurt you far too much. I don't want the three most important words I've ever said to be associated with the pain I would cause you if you happened to stay.

    But I wanted you to know anyway. It would probably be easier for you if I just never tell you to begin with but the thought of you not knowing kills me. I'll be selfish and tell you, YN.

   I love you so much. I love you so fucking much I don't know how I'd go through tomorrow without you. Without knowing how long I'll have to wait for you. But still, I love you so much that I would. Because you've waited for me when I had nothing in return to give you.

   But you don't have to do that, YN. You don't have to wait for me. Fall in love and be happy. Sure I'd kill the guy ten times over in my head but I'd still want you to find the happiness you deserve. One that would come without any baggage.

   Don't reply to this letter. Don't text me a happy birthday or call me because you feel bad like I know you would. This letter isn't to keep you stuck in the past. It's what I hope would send you in the future.

    I love you so so fucking much.

    You're my everything.

-        Rin with a black heart emoji because it's cooler. I love you.

You cried for so long after reading the letter that you had to force yourself to get through the day of getting ready. You cried in your shower, didn't bother to put makeup on because you cried all the way to the drive in the airport. You'd cry handing on your ticket too—your fingers shaking as you hand in your passport. The flight attendants have given you weird stares but your focus is stuck on the letter you sneaked in the back of your phone case. After that, you cried for days and weeks more to come.

You missed him. You wanted to call him, text him. He's in everything you do. Every new place you go to, you wished you could have experienced with him. It had been his birthday then. The day you let him go. And every 25th of the month you count the days that passed since he told you he loved you, wishing it stood true in the test of time.

It stayed that way for a long time. Like a never-ending cycle you've grown used to. It was a day to day of loving him,  missing him, and regretting he wasn't by your side when you could have done something about it.

But like what everyone said, time heals everything and it passes by in the blink of an eye. A lot happened in such a period of time and you've both gained and lost a lot.  Though, it shouldn't be too surprising.

Not when it has been two years since that day you left.

Still, faster than you could have imagined, everything has changed from the way it was before you boarded the plane.

And if the wedding invitation on your mail with his name written in bold isn't enough testament to the fact, then you aren't sure what is.

🏷 : @nozomiasl @lilith412426  @coconois  @effmigentlywithachainsaw  @savantsoulfinder  @my-reality-is-in-my-head  @shawkneecaps  @satorinnie @fail-big  @cuddlesslut  @stffychn  @sugusshi  @rntrsuna  @jiminslajibolala03 @rinsangel  @atzuums  @sunarinsbubs  @iwaprotector @exologys  @g0thbunnyy  @oikawa-bubs  @starylust  @call-me-lulu  @ouraniaastraea  @milkteeboba  @criesinpisces  @tendo-sxtori  @plusultra2dwhore  @witcherydotcom  @yoitsseulgi @trshex  @heizenka  @maitenight  @victoriasee  @whoisalexa  @asaitashi  @evilox  @daaisukii

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt 3

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Back at the Tower, Y/n has a talk with Pepper.

a/n: ohhh another part finished!! some new characters will be revealed next part and i’m so great full for @social-media-imagines-by-me fir helping me create them💕💕

You were furious.

You stormed into your room and slammed the door, finding satisfaction in the loud bang it produced. You then ripped through your drawers and closet, pulling on some work out clothes and some gloves. You then marched out of the room, slamming the door again, startling Sam and Bucky who happened to be passing by.

"Geez kid, slam it a little harder I don't think it fell off the hinges yet." Sam jokes, but you were in no joking mood so you swirled around with fire in your eyes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky softly asks, pushing a frightened Sam to the side. You sigh, knowing it's not fair to take out your anger on them.

"Sorry Sam, it's just...my biological mom is here and wants me to move in with her."

"Oh..." Bucky says, not good with things like this, " Do you want me to like...kill her or..."

"NO" You laugh, " It's just I haven't seen her in nine years and she has the audacity to come up here like it's nothing?!"

Your anger returns, " She thinks that just because she pushed me out of her vagina"

The two men cringe at the words

"That she can just claim me? That's not how it works!" You shout, " And, she brought her fucking husband. The man she left us for! Who does that?!"

Bucky looks at Sam, mentally asking him what they should do. Sam just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

"Come on kid, it looks like you wanna punch something."

and with that he lead you to the training room where Steve was training with Peter.

"Come on queens, you gotta stay on your feet" Steve k=jokes as he, again, trips Peter.

"Mr. Rogers, do you think we should take a break?" Peter pants.

You stride pass them, not bothering to say hi. They look at Sam and Bucky for an explanation and just get a shake of the head.

"Hey Y/n that's my punching" Steve started to say when he saw you throw a hard punch to the bag, "Nevermind..."

You ignore the group behind you, opting to pummel the poor punching bag in front of you.

Your mind flashes back to your mother and her words.

"A girl needs her mother"

*punch*

"Oh petal I wanted to call"

*punch* *punch*

"Come to Gotham. Meet your siblings!"

*BANG*

You look down to see the punching bag flew off the hook and is spilling sand on the floor. You were confused, as you knew you weren't strong enough to do that, not even when you were angry.

"Wow, I guess Cap didn't secure that hook again."

You jump, not expecting someone to be there, as you heard Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Peter leave. You turn to see Pepper there looking at the bag in surprise. You sigh, stepping away from the mess and taking off your gloves. You make your way to the bench and take a swig of water.

"Did you need something Pep?" You ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, i was just wondering if my kid was okay. But given the fact that you punched that bag like it would restore your honor.."

You knew you shouldn't have showed her Avatar.

"I'm assuming your not." She finishes.

You give her a half smile, looking down at your hands.

"Y/n" She says, " Talk to me."

You finally speak, "Why now?"

Pepper frowns, understanding that small phrase, ' I don't know."

"She's not my mother." You state, " She...she might have been once but now?"

Pepper nods," I love you."

You smile, the words reassuring you, " I love you too Pep."

"Come on, your messing up your manicure." She says with a smile, standing and extending a hand towards you. You feel your demnor soften and your mood lighten. Pepper always managed to make you feel better.

"Yeah okay..thanks." You say, taking her hand and letting her pull you from the bench, " Are you hungry? Cause I am>"

"Y/n we just ate!"

"Like an hour ago"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days went by and you hadn't heard a peep from Christine. It was like she went off to lick her wounds and just decided not to reach out again.

Which didn't bother you one bit.

But apparently the universe wanted to fuck with you because when you came home from a day out with Peter, there was your mother, Bruce Wayne, and all six million of her fucking kids sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck?" You say causing the attention to turn to you.

"Language" Peter says, You smile softly at him before then turning to glare at Tony.

"Don't look at me, it was your moth-uh Peppers idea." Tony stumbled, looking rather uncomfortable sharing a drink with the man that his...wife? girlfriend?... whatever she was left him for.

"Pep what?" You asking, softening your glare because you'd be damned if you disrespected her.

"I just think it'd be best if we clear the air and get everything out on the table." Pepper said in that tone she uses when she's dealing with difficult people or the press. You called it her CEO tone.

"Now, go take your bags upstairs and wash up. And I'll pretend that you aren't an hour late"

"It was Peter's idea..." You mumbled and walking to the stairs that lead to the bed rooms.

"It was not!" Peter shouts following you to the rooms to help with the bags.

Christine watched as her daughter walked out of the room, playfully arguing with Peter. It was as if she were a whole different person, carefree and playful. Totally different from when she was glaring and stiff when talking to her. It broke her heart hearing Tony refer to Pepper as her Mother rather than Christine. But what did she expect?

Damian scoffed catching her attention, "Mother I do not see why you've dragged us here, that girl didn't even acknowledge us."

"Damian, enough" Bruce said, not looking away from his awkward conversation with Tony.

"Gee if only I could do that with our kids." Tony mutters into his drink.

"Does Y/n argue often?" Bruce asks trying to engage in conversation.

Tony laughs before fondly speaking, " Sort of. She isn't the type to back down when she thinks something is right. There was this one time I caught her arguing with one of my business partners about his "condescending tone and misogynistic attitude"."

""And did she apologize after?"

"Hell no. She glared at me and told me apologizing just for his ego would be demeaning her experiences as a woman. Although to be fair he was an asshole."

Bruce chuckles, " She sounds like a well rounded young woman. How old was she then?"

"Ah about 10, it was funny seeing this little girl argue in a Justin Bieber shirt argue about the patriarchy with a full grown man."

Bruce and Tony shared a laugh, picturing the scene.

"You must be very proud of her." Bruce mentions after they quieted down. Tony let a small smile escape.

" I am. She's had a rough life, and I..." Tony trails off, " She means everything to me. Without her...I don't think I'd be the same person I am today."

And with that, Tony downed his drink and stood, " Want another?"

Bruce smiled and accepted, watching Tony leave. He can tell that the man was close to his daughter. A bond that formed due to a loss, they both grew from it and grew closer. He understood, thinking about his own children.

Pepper and Christine were having a somewhat similar conversation, although it was a little more tense.

"So...Pepper-"

"Virginia." Pepper said, cutting her off.

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Virginia. Pepper is a nickname my family calls me."

"Oh. Okay, Virginia, how long have you known Y/n and Tony?"

"Oh about nine or so years. I was promoted to assistant when I saw how much of a mess Tony was." Pepper said casually.

Dick and Jason tensed, overhearing the tense conversation between the two mothers. But before Dick could interrupt Jason sat him back down.

"I wanna see what happens."

Christine continued, " And when did you become a..more permanent around the house?"

"When I saw that Y/n the one taking care of Tony." Pepper said in a serious tone, "She was the one making sure he didn't choke on his vomit and eating cereal as his flings walked out the room. Then he got kidnapped...and y/n was alone. So I made sure she’d never be alone again.”

Christine heart sank. She knew about the whole kidnapping thing. Why she didn't step in, she doesn't know. It's just another thing she regrets to this day.

Before Pepper could continue, she heard two sets of footsteps and voices

"All I'm saying is, if he looks at me funny, I'm fighting him and that's that."

"Yeah maybe not the best impression on..." Peter cuts off when they reach the living room. Eyes again on the two of you.

"Let's get this over with." You muttered, saying bye to Peter and making way over to the couch to sit next to Pepper.

"Y/n!" Christine says happily, " I'm glad you're here. We brought you something!"

She pulls out a box and she carefully hands it over to you.

You look at it suspiciously before getting a nudge from Pepper.

"Thank you." You grit out. Earning a glare from Damian and Cassandra.

You open the box to see...cupcakes.

"They're the peanut butter strawberry cupcakes you used to like. Remember? I used to bring them when I came to see you." Christine says, trying to bring up good memories.

You frown and close the box, " I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lie.

Pepper casts a glance towards you, "They look lovely, let me take them into the kitchen, I'll check on dinner."

And with that she takes the box and leaves into the kitchen. Leaving you and Tony alone.

"So...Stark" Damian started fixing his gaze on you.

"Yes, Wayne?" You said, matching his energy.

"What exactly is it you want from my mother?" He asks, earning a groan from his older brothers.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if she left me alone." You say with a straight face.

Christine frowns but before she says something Damian speaks up again.

"Tt, all this drama for the likes of you? It's honestly disappointing" He drawls, trying to get under your skin.

"Damian!" Christine scolded.

"Well, I apologize for not meeting your standards. I'd try harder if I cared what a toddler thought of me."

Jason let out a surprised chuckle while the rest of the family looked on in shock. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"I do not understand why Mother insists on rekindling her relationship with you. You obviously weren't worth the effort the first time around." He spits, causing the rest of the family to gasp.

You however, just laugh, " When you figure it out, let me know. It's probably the same reason she puts up with you."

Damian glares, about to start in again when Jason cuts him off " Shut up Demon. She got you man."

"Tt"

"I'm Jason, and anyone who can out that brat in check is good in my book." He says sending you a smirk.

You smile back, " I'm friends with Loki and Wade Wilson, I'm hardly affected by anything anymore." Your dad rolls his eyes again, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about your choice in friends.

You like this one. Probably the one you're gonna be able to stand in this family.

"Don't hog her Jason!" Dick shouts pushing him away before turning to smile at you, " Hi! I'm-"

"Dick Grayson. I know, you spilled your champagne on my dress a few years ago at a New Years gala." You say, still a little bitter about it.

"Oh. heh, right, sorry about that. Again." He says sheepishly.

You turn to Cassandra, " You're Cassandra. You and your friend cornered me in the bathroom."

Cassandra scowls and looks away.

Then you turned to Tim, " And you need to learn how to secure your fire walls better."

Tim looked at you confused, "Um excuse me?"

You smirked, " Just a suggestion. I assume you don't want people to know about your...bats in the attic?"

The whole family froze.

You knew? There was no way.

"Kid, are you hacking again?" Tony said exasperatedly, " You promised you'd stop after the last time."

"Hey it's not my fault Shuri didn't think about changing her password." You say defensively, “ and it’s not like you were complaining when you had me hack into SHEILDS databases”

“What was that!?” Pepper shouts from the kitchen.

“Heheh, nothing dear.” Tony shouts back then in a hushed voice scolds you, “ I gave you fifty bucks to keep that a secret.”

“I didn’t say what you had me retrieve.” You said smugly leaning back in your chair.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel.

On one hand, this teen that objectively hates his family, knows their biggest secret. She can singlehandedly destroy their family and expose them. And she has the means to.

But on the other, she’s a perfect fit for their family. She gets along with Jason, doesn’t let Damian get under her skin, and from the looks of it can definitely take care of herself. Only thing is, again, she hates his wife and by association, his family.

“I’m sorry, hacking? You know that’s illegal right?” Tim asks, still in shock that you got past his security systems.

You turn to him and in a bored tone replied , “Yeah? and?”

Tim stuttered for a bit before going quiet with a blush. It was adorable really.

You had to hold back a laugh, it was fun getting this stuffy family all riled up. Especially when you can see the disapproval in Christines face.

“Tony, you let our daughter participate in illegal activities??” Christine asks with a raised brow.

The table goes silent at the tone of her voice. Knowing that when she uses it someone is really in trouble.

But you roll your eyes because how are you supposed to know what that tone means?

“I let my daughter express herself in a ...healthy way. She knows her limits.” Tony replies cooly, taking a drink and looking back into the kitchen wondering where Pepper went.

”Obviously not. Tony she has no regard for the laws at all! You think i didn’t see the headlines last year?!”

Ah yes, last year you had a slight scandal where you may have punched a pap for trying to get a picture up your skirt but who wouldn’t?!

“ And you let her hang around criminals and terrorists?!”

You scoff, “ Oh please everyone in the Avengers was a criminal or terrorist at least once.”

“Not helping kid.” Tony says, “Christine, you and your family have no right to come into my home and judge my family. I’ve been civil. Hell maybe a little too much. Mainly because if I wasn’t, my wife—err Fiancée, would kill me.”

You snicker, earning a few glares.

“Look the point is, don’t tell me how to raise my daughter. Especially because I was doing it all alone.” Tony finishes with a sigh.

The table goes silent. You were getting tired of all the tense silences today.

“ Look.” You turn to Christine, “ I get that you probably feel guilty or something because you ditched me. And I appreciate that or whatever.”

You were not good at this.

“ But I don’t wanna live with you.”

Christine looks down sadly, “ Y/n I just...I just want to get to know you again. You’re my baby.”

Before you could answer you heard a crash come from the kitchen and smoke fill the rooms.

“ Pepper?!” You cough, “ Dad what’s happening?!”

“ I don’t know. Stay here” He says summoning his suit.

“FRIDAY?!” You shout, but not hearing the AI.

The Wayne’s all looked at each other in panic. They didn’t bring their suits, thinking it was just a dinner.

You turn to them and shout “ Come with me, and stay low!”

You start to lead them to the stair case, knowing that the rooms were relatively safe.

“Come on!” you yell when they don’t follow you.

Christine stands from her seat and makes to follow you before being stopped by Damian.

“Mother we cannot..”

“Damian, I’ve had about enough of you. Let’s go.” She says sternly and follows you. The rest of the family following behind as Bruce nudges Damian.

“ Come on son.”

“Father we don’t know where she’s leading us.” Damian says stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now.” he coughs.

The sounds of punching and the blasts come from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

They finally join the rest of the family. You have them crouched in the hallway.

“ This is James’ room. Dad had it modified just incase he was ever triggered into the Winter Solider again. No ones getting through this door when it’s locked.”

You usher them in.

“Come on Y/n” Christine says reaching a hand out to you.

You smirk, “ What? and miss all the action?”

You close the door and lock it before leaving. Laughing at their surprised faces.

The room is silent.

“ She’s awesome!” Jason says with a laugh.

[devilyn]

leave a message at the tone | kuroo tetsurou

— alexa, play: stay by kid laroi ft. justin bieber

I do the same thing I told you that I never would I told you I'd change, even when I knew I never could I know that I can't find nobody else as good as you I need you to stay, need you to stay, hey

— synopsis: kuroo can't stop drinking, and only realizes what he cares about most when you're gone. — genre: angst, happy endings, sad kuroo — word count: 1.6k

He knew he shouldn’t have done this again. Drinking late at night and stumbling home in the dark. He knew you’d give him that look again. That same look you gave him each night you’d gently rub his back while he threw up, and each morning while begging him to stop going out so often.

He knew, but it was like he couldn’t control himself. He could escape daily life when he drank--pretend like he was satisfied with himself and didn’t have an ounce of responsibility. Yet, when he sobered up, you’d always be right there, laying in bed next to him and fast asleep. With your presence always came the overwhelming guilt of being a burden to you, and dragging you down with him.

As he kicked his shoes off, he heard you shuffling around on the couch. When he looked up, you were already standing in front of him and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t help but drunkenly smile at the sight of you.

“I’m leaving.”

It took his inebriated brain a few seconds to process your words, but when he did, his smile dropped instantly.

“What do you--”

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve asked you to stop this,” you cut off his slurred words. Now that he was looking closer, through his blurred vision, he could see the redness in your eyes and the familiar swelling in your lower lip where you bit down to try and suppress your cries.

“I’ve had enough, that’s all I can really say now,” you continued, voice shaky and hands trembling. Kuroo swayed a bit on his feet, still trying to process what was happening right in front of his eyes.

“Wait--” he struggled to grab your hands, fumbling a bit, even though you didn’t bother to resist. “Please, I’ll be better. I’ll--I’ll drink less often, I’ll come home earlier--”

“You say that all the time,” you told him calmly, “but nothing ever changes, does it?”

He was afraid. He’d rather you yell and scream at him, call him a piece of trash and abandon him fully. Tell him he ruined your life and you never wanted to see him again.

But you didn’t. You never would.

“I really loved you,” you said instead through tears, “I’m sorry.”

Loved. Loved. Loved...?

He stood still, unable to say anything more as you pulled your hands out of his own and flashed him a watery smile. You grabbed your packed suitcase that he didn’t even realize was sitting right by the door, and slipped past him.

Out of his apartment with you, and out of his life.

Kuroo couldn’t remember how the rest of the night went. When he woke up the next morning, he felt the familiar urge to vomit and quickly stumbled to the toilet.

A nightmare, he thought while washing his face after throwing up anything he might’ve consumed in the last 12 hours. It must’ve been a nightmare. He’d walk back to his bedroom, and you’d be lying there on your side of the bed, half awake and waiting for him to come back to sleep.

But when he trudged back to the bedroom, his heart sank to his feet when he saw it was empty.

He must not have noticed the night before--must’ve passed out before he could even register what had happened--but every semblance of you was gone. Your clothes, your familiar knick knacks, your favorite pillow, even polaroids and pictures you’d set up of you and him--they were all gone.

How cruel of you. You didn’t leave anything behind for him to remember you by.

His hand weakly smoothed over your side of the bed, where he remembered you were just yesterday morning. His head throbbed as he recalled the way you gently kissed his forehead while murmuring something about making him a cup of coffee.

Kuroo laid in bed for the rest of the day, eyes closed, and not bothering to drink water to soothe his dry throat or take any painkillers for the pounding in his head.

Maybe it was his way of repenting for his mistakes in your relationship. For hurting you, and for chasing you away because he couldn’t give up the numbness that came from alcohol.

Now, it seemed he didn’t need it anymore. The next day, when he monotonously went through the motions of going to his classes, eating lunch, completing his assignments, and studying for his exams, he no longer felt anything.

There was something missing inside of him. Something that left him feeling empty. His pen moved over the paper as he took notes, but something didn’t feel right. His fingers flew over the keys as he typed up a report for his professors, but something was off. His lips parted, and he chewed his food as he usually did, but something was different.

When he glanced at his phone for the first time later that night in his empty apartment just to check the time, he realized.

Tears pricked at his eyes at the sight of his lock screen. Your bright smile, right next to his own.

Maybe that was when it finally hit him. You were gone. You had left him.

Kuroo buried his face in his hands, the dinner he bought left abandoned on the dining room table as he sobbed into his palms.

You gave him what he wanted. That numbness he was chasing after was here to stay, because you took a piece of his heart with him when you left.

“I’m sorry--” he mumbled to your voicemail later that night, just hours before his next class would begin at 8am. “I should’ve listened to you. Running away from my problems really doesn’t help.”

He could picture you scolding him over lunch, telling him that drinking would only help him hide from his life for so long. Telling him you were there for him, and you could get through this together.

Together.

God, he wished so badly the two of you could be together right now.

“I just wanted to apologize,” he told your voicemail again the next night, “...for taking advantage of you being by my side, and not cherishing you while I could.”

Everyday was the same without you. Eat, study, sleep, eat, repeat. Sometimes, his eyes would instinctively search for you in places he knew you two used to frequent together. Sometimes, he’d see you sitting next to him at the dining table at home. You’d look up from your phone and smile at him, and when he blinked, you’d be gone.

“That night, you apologized,” he murmured over the phone on another night to someone he wasn’t even sure was listening. He lost track of how many messages he’d left you. “It was never your fault. I just want you to know that. You did...everything you could.”

A few weeks after you left, he finally spotted you on campus. Your back was to him, but he recognized you regardless. The sight of you for the first time in such a long time warmed his heart. For a second, Kuroo contemplated calling out to you.

But you quickly disappeared in the crowd of busy students who could care less about the brokenhearted man standing in the center of campus.

And he clutched at his chest.

“I stopped drinking,” he admitted quietly in another message while laying in bed, “I have you to thank for that. I know it’ll never make up for anything, and I know it won’t bring you back, but...I like to think you’d be proud of me.”

He threw out every half-empty bottle of vodka that he’d hidden from you a few nights after you left. Somehow, it felt good to let go of something he was dependent on for so long.

He hoped that even if you weren’t here with him, you’d hear his message and you’d be happy for him.

“I love you,” he finally confessed in what he told himself would be his last voicemail, “I know you said you loved me, but I--I still love you. I’m sorry...you won’t hear from me again. I’m sorry for everything.”

He was sleeping better now. Before, there were nights where he’d stay up the whole night imagining what life could be like if you had stayed by his side.

Now, he’d close his eyes, and tell himself you were happier without him.

“I’m coming over. I hope your schedule hasn’t changed.”

He never expected to get a text from you. He also never expected for you to actually show up with an expression filled with relief when he opened the door.

For a second, Kuroo just took you in. It felt like years since he last saw your face, but you looked as beautiful as ever. You still used the same body wash he had contemplated buying just to smell like you when you first left, and you still had that familiar habit of fumbling with your fingers when you were nervous.

“...hi,” he greeted you quietly, and you smiled softly up at him.

“Hey,” you responded, reaching up to gently cup his cheek.

He instinctively leaned into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your skin against his own as his eyes closed.

“You still love me?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Kuroo responded, eyes still closed, “I do.”

He heard you sigh, and he opened his eyes to see your weak smile as you took his hands into your own.

“...alright. Then let’s start over.”

He squeezed your hands, the coldness in his heart quickly washing away as tears started to well up in his eyes.

“...you’ll stay?” he asked tearfully as you reached up to gently wipe his tears away.

“I’ll stay.”

He wrapped his arms tight around you, his face buried in your hair as he cried.

Your hands gently rubbed his back, and quietly to himself, Kuroo hoped that you’d stay forever.

[h0neypjm]

Confident | jjk 01

↳ Summary: After giving Jungkook the best suck of his life he’s left wondering if what you said was true. Was it really your first time? ‘Cause Jungkook thinks you might’ve lied.

↳ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, college au, fuckboy! Jk, cheeky virgin reader

↳ Rating: 18+

↳ Word count: 4.3k

↳ Warnings: mentions of virginity, blowjobs, fingering, hickies, handjobs, mc is annoyingly indecisive  

↳A/N: based on the song confidence by Justin Bieber and Chance the rapper oop, i highly recommend listening to the slowed version here !

↳Series: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

Nights like these were starting to look the same. Bright flashes of neon lights and music so loud it shakes the ground. Howls of rowdy boys and the whispering of gossiping girls. They all blend into one, usually leaving Jungkook with a mess of clingy girls and a headache that pounds every time he blinks. 

Which is why Jungkook begins to question his decisions when his drink sloshes around his cup for the fifth time tonight, spilling onto his jeans as the short blonde sitting in front of him tries to scoot into his lap. She’s a clingy hookup, just like the rest of them, but if Jungkook is being honest he doesn’t even remember their names.

Jungkook entertains her for a moment when he eventually lets her sit on his thighs. She leaves wet kisses on his neck and whispers dirty words into his ear. Jungkook however, is unaffected by her ministrations. This wasn’t his first rodeo after all. Instead, He’s distracted, trying to find a face unfamiliar to him.

Jungkook usually only asks for one thing when attending such parties. He wants fresh meat, a new obsession for the week. Not sit around with a past hookup who doesn't know how to keep her distance. It seems he was out of luck tonight, when his eyes brush over the faces of every partygoer, only finding the faces of past flings and regret.

He wants to go home. Wants to wash off the dirt, grime and red lipstick that now stains his neck. So, with a pat to the ass of the petite girl sitting in his lap, he gets up in search of a mess of bright pink hair.

Alas, he spots the candy haired man with two girls hooked under each of his defined arms, a smug grin etched on his plush lips. 

“Jimin!” Jungkook yells, in which the man in question shoots his head into Jungkook’s direction with a holler of his name. They approach each other with what Jimin claims as their “totally special and unique” ‘bro’ handshake, their hands connecting with practiced perfection.

“Why do you look so glum mister Jungkook?” Jimin drunkenly questions before gasping. “You didn’t get any pussy isn’t it? Oh you poor boy.” Jungkook narrows his eyes at the boy in front of him, beginning to get a little embarrassed at the volume of Jimin’s voice. Jungkook just about loses it when Jimin suddenly turns around, making the girls under his arms stumble, their tall stilettos doing nothing to save their ankles.

“AYO SOMEONE GET THIS MAN SOME PUSSY!” Jimin yells at the top of his lungs before Jungkook lunges at him, hand on his mouth before flicking his forehead with as much force as he could muster.

The girls hanging off of Jimin are now long gone, leaving Jimin confused and pouty that he lost his potential threesome of the night. He doesn't dwell on that loss for too long though, there's always next week.

“Ok maybe i was being a bit too loud”, Jimin giggles, “sorry bout it”. Jungkook huffs, “I’m gonna go home now”, he decides, dismissing Jimin’s protests and heading into the kitchen for one last drink.

The change of bright lights in the small kitchen makes Jungkook’s eyes squint and his head throb. He shields his eyes with his hands making his way over to the large bowl of whatever toxic waste Jin, the host of the party, decided to mix in for tonight.

Where the fuck are all the cups? Jungkook believes he’s about to bubble over. He hasn't busted a single nut since two weeks ago and now can’t even find a stupid cup to quench his thirst. It seems the two things he’s thirsting for right now are way out of his reach tonight. 

Fuck this, Jungkook sighs before beginning to head out of the kitchen. It’s only when Jungkook walks past the refrigerator, he couldn't help but notice the clinking of glass bottles and groans of desperation ringing in his ear. Turning around to scope out the scene, Jungkook immediately freezes at the sight before him.

It’s a girl. But, most importantly it’s a girl Jungkook has never seen before. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook watches with amusement as you stretch your arm out, trying so desperately hard to reach for the hidden bottles of liquor on the top shelf. You’ve angled yourself in such a position that the bottom of your ass is practically out, the short skirt doing nothing to stop your ass from saying hello to the whole party.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he should scold you for trying to steal Jin’s expensive liquor or bend you over the counter for looking exactly like his type. Long legs and the fattest ass he’s ever laid his eyes on. 

He blinks, finally decides to break out of his thoughts because he realised he’s been standing there, looking at you like a creep for far too long while you struggle over some pricey alcohol.

You, on the other hand, think you've got it this time. The bottle of tequila you have been desperately hunting down sits on the edge of the tall shelf. Just one more jump and it’ll surely come down. So, with all the energy stored within your being you jump up. Expecting your hand to meet cool glass, you are deeply disappointed when it is met with a large tattooed hand instead.

Spinning around quickly, you cross your arms over your chest with a not so intimidating scowl plastered on your pretty face. “That’s mine” you whine, reaching out for the bottle, only for Jungkook to swiftly lift it up above his head and out of your reach.

He stretches his arms higher and stumbles forward when someone bumps into him, you pout but his grin grows wider. 

“Hmmm, I don’t think so princess, and I don’t remember Jin inviting some preppy school girl to his party” 

Jungkook is obviously teasing you but you gasp anyways at his statement, frowning when you look down at the cute plaid tennis skirt that circles your thighs. You actually did know you weren’t allowed Jin’s special top shelf alcohol but he would often let you have some if it weren’t for a rowdy party, benefits of being friends for over ten years you guess. But right now you really needed it, especially after the shit that’s tormented you, both mentally and physically.

So, that is why you don't back down from the remarks of Jeon Jungkook. In the most non discreet way possible, you rise onto your tippy toes to snatch the tequila in his grasp. 

“Ah ah”, he tuts in reply when he surprisingly notices. But really it’s not that hard to tell, especially when you start magically growing right in front of his eyes. You huff, slightly defeated and Jungkook thinks you look adorable. You glance up at Jungkook, taking in all his seemingly hyped up features. It's then your eyes spot a small mole under his lip that you had never seen before. You think it's cute. 

You would never reveal this to Jungkook and his particularly large ego, but you understood why he was so popular. He was charming, hot and built like a Greek God, anyone with working eyes could see that. But that’s not all.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook, you knew a scary amount of things about him. Right before entering college, your childhood best friend, Jin had told you many stories about the praised and worshipped God that graced your campus. Stories so embarrassing and so unlike the suave Jungkook you’ve seen, you're sure they would most likely scare off the girls he seemed to seduce every week.

Which is why you were always very intrigued by him, wanting to know him a little better. If you’re gonna be honest you're not even sure he knows who the fuck you are, but right now in this moment as you stand under his curious gaze you want him to know who the fuck you are.

If you couldn’t get any alcohol tonight, you might as well get some dick.

Much to your surprise, Jeon Jungkook was a lot easier to seduce than you thought. It probably had something to do with the way you had secretly caught him ogling your body five minutes ago. You’d surely tease him for that later. 

All it really took was a sudden change in demeanour, glazed eyes and a few flirty touches that ultimately got you to where you are now. Brushing past sweaty bodies, your eyes peering at the stares of jealous girls while you’re hastily pulled up the stairs by your arm. Whistles shooting out of random party goers lips, the look of disappointment on Jin’s face.

Guilt flooded your body immediately when you met his downcast gaze, and you knew exactly why. Within all the stories Jin had told you about the infamous playboy, there had always been a clear message behind them.

Never get involved with Jeon Jungkook.

If someone were to ask Jin about his friendship with Jungkook he would smile and praise him, because he truly appreciated him as a friend and enjoyed his bubbly presence. But, if they asked him what he thought about Jungkook's playboy tendencies, he would shrug and tell them that it was his life and he could do what he wanted. That didn’t necessarily mean he agreed on his treatment of women though. 

This is why Jin never introduced him to you, wanting to protect you to ensure you don’t become just another notch on Jungkook’s ever growing belt.

Clearly you couldn’t care less about the fact that you were to become another one of Jungkook’s messy hookups, especially with the way he’s got you currently positioned.

The door knob of the first vacant room Jungkook could spot was uncomfortably digging into your hip, but the way he messily licked into your mouth was no competition against it.

You knew what you were doing. You knew the minute Jungkook shoved you against the door and explored your skin that this may be the small spark that starts a blazing fire. You also knew that you were a grown ass woman that can make decisions for herself. You couldn't care less about the repercussions of your actions. You didn't care if Jungkook used you and broke your heart, because really, it’s not like he could break your heart even more than it already is.

And so, with a final lick across the hickey on your collarbone does he rasp, “Jump” into the shell of your ear. He secures his arms tightly around your waist when you oblige, heat taking over you when you wrap your thighs around his waist, your damp centre pressing against the buckle of his belt.

In one swift movement, he effortlessly carries you over to the nearby dresser, knocking empty bottles and whatever crap lies on its surface onto the floor. Your lips never leave his as you’re roughly placed onto the hard wooden veneer. You bite his lip, weaving your arms around his neck while his hands roam around your body before settling on your breasts, squeezing them when you tug at the tufts of his hair.

He revels in the whines and moans you let out, egging him on to leave a galaxy of hickies down your neck. Your head hits the wall behind you when you throw it back in pleasure while Jungkook suggestively tugs at the skirt riding up your thighs.

“Fucking love this skirt on you”, he bites your shoulder. “Sexiest legs i’ve ever seen”. You smirk at his compliment but you don’t let him see it. “Really!? I couldn't tell when you were standing there ogling me for five minutes”

He chuckles, slapping your thigh playfully in which you jolt spreading them to accompany his body. “You’re a cheeky one aren’t you?”

You don’t get time to retort, Jungkook’s fingers finding its way to the wetness that embarrassingly stains your panties. Your gasp melts into a high pitched whimper when he runs the pad of his thumb against your clothed clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves in slow teasing circles.

Jungkook keeps you down with a lustful stare, he wants to see all your reactions, he wants to see you squirm under his touch. With his free hand he grabs your chin with a gentleness that matches the delicious swirl of his fingers. You're suddenly met with his dark eyes, clouded with want and you're pretty sure you just got wetter at the sight.

All too soon, Jungkook picks up speed on your swollen clit, your head falls forward onto his shoulders, eyes squeezing shut in both bliss and frustration. You want him to touch you properly.

Lightly grabbing his wrist, you beg, “please- please touch me”. You're so wet at this point Jungkook could easily slide in two fingers if he wanted, but he wanted to see how long you could go. Your body was new to him after all.

“I am touching you, aren’t I?” He snaps back playfully. You whine and try to look away, but his grip on your chin is strong. 

looking at your big wide eyes, he curses under his breath. You’re so pretty, even in the dim lighting of the room. He places his thumb on the plush pillow of your bottom lip before looking down at the wet mess between your legs.

Jungkook wonders if anyone has ever made you feel this way before, but the way you teasingly suck and swirl your tongue around his thumb, painting such an erotic picture tells him otherwise.

Jungkook finally decides he’s teased you enough, judging by the way your  white cotton panties look almost transparent. Although he didn’t want to, he releases his thumb from your lewd mouth to spread your underwear to the side, revealing your glistening folds.

He wastes no time, sliding his fingers down your slit before immediately pushing two long fingers into your dripping heat. You gasp at the sensation, throwing your head back onto his broad shoulder and gripping his biceps tightly.

Jungkook marvels at the way you suck his fingers in. The way your tight hole flutters around his fingers doing nothing to aid his aching cock as it grows harder under the restraint of his jeans. 

He pumps his fingers at a faster pace, you moan squeezing his bicep so hard, he’s sure you’ve left nail marks in his skin. He uses his other hand to rub at your swollen nub, you jolt in response to the sudden pleasure zapping through you.

“You’re so sensitive baby, is this your first time being touched like this?” 

You don’t reply at first.

You see, questions like that confused you because on the one hand, no, it was not your first time if being fingered was what he was addressing. On the other hand however, you have never ever gone all the way. Yes, you hate to admit it but you were in fact a virgin.

Your lack of response doesn’t deter Jungkook, he thinks you’re in absolute euphoria, which is not wrong, he’s doing a great job but you also don’t know what to tell him. 

You’re scared. 

All the confidence you demonstrated in the small kitchen downstairs, slowly disintegrates. You know what Jungkook’s game is. He’s a hump and dump kind of guy, he doesn’t care about you, and he probably never will. You’re not like that. You’re a stupid hopeless romantic who truly believes in soulmates. You were a firm believer that there’s a person destined for everyone. Those beliefs all went to shit however when a certain someone decided to rip your heart to pieces.

In your mind you backtrack the indecisive thoughts. You’re unsure if you want to let Jeon Jungkook take your virginity tonight but in all honesty you’re tired. You’re tired of waiting for the right person to come along, tired of being pressured, tired of putting so much energy into someone even though it was never reciprocated.

So with a shaky breath you whisper, “yes this is my first time”

Jungkook stops, a low growl rumbling out of his throat and straight to your pussy. “Fuck baby, you’re literally perfect. How hasn't anyone gotten their hands on you yet?” You smile with uncertainty until he pulls his fingers out of your sopping cunt. Your essence coating two long fingers as they sparkle in the moonlight.

Your jaw drops when he pops his digits into his mouth. He moans at the taste all while gazing into your wide eyes. 

“Holy shit-”, you're cut off when he grabs your waist, your legs wrapping around him instinctively. He is quick to turn around, spotting the single bed behind him as he lays you down and shushes your yelp with a flaming kiss.

You comply with his actions, letting his tongue explore your mouth as you push your hand into his dark locks. Jungkook slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss while he tugs at the hem of your crop top, pushing it up and over the curve of your breasts to reveal your braless form.

Jungkook sighs at the sight, delving straight onto your left breast, sucking your nipple to its hardness as he simultaneously pinches the right. You’re soon becoming a moaning mess under him, loving the way he touches you.

“God i just wanna fuck you right now”, he exclaims, popping off of your breast. And just like that the nerves come flooding back. “Where's the fun in that?”, you ask with a frisky giggle, trying to ease the tension.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ears,“Don’t be nervous princess, I’ll take great care of you.”

You don’t want it.

You’re having second thoughts again. You feel panicked. God, you think to yourself. Why are you so hung up over your goddamn virginity? Is it so bad if you let him take it right now? You wanna slap yourself, why are you thinking about this now? 

When Jungkook’s fingers hover over your thighs, it sets off your brain to finally start working. You know what you want and you know that no, this is not going to happen tonight and you also need to lecture yourself later. So, with Feigned innocence you ask, “Can I take care of you instead?” 

It's your final offer, because you would kind of feel bad if you left him there all hard and bothered. So, you could at least show him what you do best. Sucking dick.

You begin reaching for his belt to show how much you really mean it, and bite your lip for that extra push. Jungkook doesn’t say anything, only pushing himself onto his knees while you unbuckle his belt and smooth your hands over his thighs. 

Jungkook’s buzzing with excitement. He has a hot girl about to suck his dick after his disastrous two-week dry spell. He feels a burn of possessiveness in his belly at the thought of himself being the first to do this with you. Oh, how wrong could he be.  

“Can you lay down for me please?” You ask, flashing your most seductive eyes as you gesture him to lay on his back.

Jungkook does what you ask so quickly it’s like he was already there, and it's obvious as to why he’s so eager. The bulge in his tight jeans practically screams to be freed.

You don’t tease him, getting down to it immediately by bringing his jeans and boxers down over the curve of his ass. Unsurprisingly his cock, red and angry, springing out to slap his lower abdomen. You’re not gonna lie, he is indeed packing. Jungkook has one of the prettiest cocks you have ever seen, deliciously long and a thick girth to match. You drool at the sight.

Despite what many girls say, you enjoyed a good ol’ blowjob. You’re good at it, it gave you confidence and it never fails to make boys ask for more. 

Without warning you wrap your lips around his leaking tip, holding down his thighs as he jolts up into you. You don’t stop there. Wrapping your hands around his girth to aid your mouth into taking more of his length in.

You repeat your actions at a steady rhythm. Taking him in as deep as you can go before coming up for air and twirling your tongue around his bulbous tip.

It seems that the tables have turned. Jungkook is a mess below you now, hair unruly from your previous tugging and his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. You moan at the sight, the vibrations aiding to stimulate his cock further.

Jungkook uses his hands to grip your hair into a makeshift ponytail before letting out a throaty groan. “Jesus baby how is this your first time?” Jungkook is shocked to say the least. He expected shy kittenish licks and fidgety hands, not the pornographic show you’re putting on, but he’s not complaining, he’s just a little confused.

With quick movements, you take his wrists out of your hair and sit up. Jungkook watches the string of your saliva thin out as you pop off of his dick and he shudders.

“I wanna see you do it”, you demand. 

Jungkook slowly blinks up at your form. “What?” He is so fucking lost. “I said”, you begin, confidence gaining, “I want to see you do it.” You stare at his confused eyes and flicker them down to his hard member. “Princess I-” You huff, grabbing his hand and wrapping it firmly around his dick, a saccharine smile making its way onto your face when his doe eyes widen.

Your hand is still tightly secured around his own as you lean down to lick into his leaking slit all while maintaining eye contact. You lean back once again and finalise, “I want to see you touch yourself Jungkook.”

“Fucking hell”, he curses, running his unoccupied hand into his dishevelled hair. Never is his life has he been in a situation like this. Never has a girl ask him to touch himself and God was it hot seeing you do it.

Jungkook slowly pumps his cock watching the way your eyes glaze over and your mouth salivate. It only spurs him on further, spitting into his hand to slicken his dick. You settle onto your knees and slowly push your panties to the side, spreading your folds to show off the way you're completely soaked for him.

Jungkook can’t believe the sight before him. He can’t believe he found someone like you. Someone so pretty but oh so effortlessly sexy, it's like you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Which brings him back to his question. Was this really your first time?

You let out a wanton moan when your fingers start to circle around your clit. Jungkook matches the speed of your fingers by twisting his wrist to smoothly glide over his cock. You both groan at the view.

Soon enough you both have a thundering pace going. You’ve placed your fingers inside your walls pumping at the same rate of Jungkook’s thrusts.

The room is filled with nothing but the wet squelches of both your ministrations and your harmonised moans of ecstacy. You enjoyed this. You felt powerful. The uncertainty and nervousness vanishing.

It’s then Jungkook lets out the prettiest whines. “Fuck Im gonna cum baby, fuck.” You smirk, leaning over to press your cheek to his thigh watching in amazement as he pumps himself at a faster rate, the mix of his saliva and precum creaming around the base of his dick as he moans louder. “Fucking shit, Im cumming-”

You quickly move in front of his dick letting his hot spurts of cum coat your cheeks and tongue as you marvel at his gorgeous face.

Jungkook’s pants, cupping your jaw when he looks down at the picture he’s painted on your face. You innocently smile at him, swiping at the cum that drips onto your cheeks and bringing it into your mouth, humming at the taste.

Jungkook opens his mouth in awe, beginning to form his next sentence, but you’re already getting up, running your fingers through your hair and locating tissues to clean your face.

“H-hey…”

“Well this was fun, see you around Jungkook”

And just like that you shut the door on him. Leaving him in the dark room with his dick limp on his stomach, the sound of the rowdy party and the thrumming in his heart.

It has been exactly 12 hours since you had given Jeon Jungkook the best head of his life, and you barely even touched his dick.

At first Jungkook was a little disappointed in himself. How pathetic of him to cum so hard by his own handjob. Sure you helped a little… ok you helped quite a lot, but still, Jungkook feels irked by the situation

He swirls the straw around his iced coffee, waiting for his friends to arrive so he can vent about what the fuck is going on in his pea brain.

Jungkook’s phone vibrates against his ass, making him slump in his chair. He pulls it out, brows furrowing at the message.

| Jin: I’m going to fucking kill you.

Jungkook blinks, should he be worried or did he just accidentally eat one of Jin’s snacks again. He shrugs, switching his phone off just in time to see Jimin and Taehyung walk into the cafe.

“Again Jungkook? Why the long face”, sneers Jimin, who looks way too good for someone with a raging hangover.

When Jungkook doesn’t reply, Taehyung shakes his shoulders. “Seriously are you feeling alright? Did something happen last night”

Jungkook stares at the ice slowly melting in his coffee. He doesn’t know how to approach this conversation, it was weird and confusing and he’s still trying to process everything, until he suddenly blurts...

“She said it's her first time.” He pauses, looking up at his friends' concerned faces. “I think she might’ve lied.”

Taglist: @zibermuda​ <3

[solarwonux]

28. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”

50.  “I’m not going to touch you, we’re in public”

vernon x f!reader

w.c: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, smut, public sex?? kinda, fingering, breast play, orgasm denial if you squint. and minimal editing.

note: hello, I hope you enjoy this one. Thank you so much for reading this and please let me know your thoughts.Just a heads up I’m going on vacation tomorrow so there won’t be an upload tomorrow. So I shall see you all on Monday. 

p.s. send me a prompt for either svt or bts heheheh.xxx

Masterlist || Prompts

No drinking tonight.

At least that’s what you told yourself before stepping foot into your best friend’s house. The minute you walked in, a red solo cup made its way into your hand, soon, one tequila shot turned into two, then three, then four. Until you were standing in front of the tv, toy microphone in your hand as you tried your very best to remember the lyrics to Baby by Justin Bieber.

It was no use, your mind was fuzzy and the words had started to bleed into one another in your head. But you were determined, there was no way in hell you would let Kwon Soonyoung beat you at karaoke, not when he was far drunker than you. At least you still had control of your limbs, he on the other hand could barely keep himself from falling every few seconds.

“If I win you’re going to have to kiss me.” He slurred, pointing his microphone at you.

Disgusted, you furrowed your brows. Newfound determination surging through your alcohol-filled veins. “In your dreams, Hoshi, my lips are staying far away from yours.”

“That’s what you said last time.” He turned his attention to the tv, the countdown displayed. Three, “I hope you moisturized them well enough for me, I don’t want to be kissing the Sahara desert.”

Two, you scoff, “that was one time.” You raise the mic up to your lips, squinting. The brightness of the screen felt like it was burning you blind, but you were motivated to finally beat Soonyoung at his own game.

One, “and it was the worst moment of my life.”

Start, “You know you love me I-”

Vernon steps in front of the tv, arms spread out wide, blocking the disappearing words. “Move Vernon!” You stand on your toes trying to look over his shoulder, his outstretched arms wrap around your shoulders turning you away from the screen. “What the fuck Vernon, I’m going to lose.”

Quietly he takes the mic from your hands handing it to Soonyoung and pushes you out of the living room, “You need to sober up.” He whispers ledding you out of the house and into the backyard.

You huff, crossing your arms in front of you and stomping your feet. This is the main reason why you didn’t want to drink. You always turned into a whining, overly, competitive, overly emotional child, and Vernon was always stuck taking care of you. As much as it annoyed him, to nurse you every time it happened. He would never complain, he found it amusing and adorable.

“I’m not that drunk.” You whisper, looking down at your feet, ashamed, toeing with the clean-cut grass underneath you.

Vernon chuckles and grabs your arm, leading you slowly to the porch swing facing away from the house where the two of spent the first thirty minutes of the party making out. Hidden away from everyone. “You were about to kiss Soonyoung, you are very much drunk.” He puts his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to sit down, while you complain.

He crouches down in front of you, placing a water bottle and some painkillers in your hand. “Drink.”

“I wasn’t going to.” You uncap the water bottle and throw your head back downing the pills quickly. “I was going to win.” You say, then taking another swing of water, chugging it like you haven’t had anything to drink in years.

Vernon smiles, putting his hand at the end of the bottle, “Alright slow down, water is not what I want you to choke on.” He smirks. Your eyes grow wide, and before you could stop it, you were spitting water in his face.

“Vern, oh my god, I’m sorry.” You put the bottle down and look around for something to dry his face, while he threw his head back laughing. “You can’t say things like that.” You groan, covering your face with your hands, embarrassed.

Laughing, he moves your hands from your face, his lips close to yours. “Why not, no ones around? I don’t have to watch my mouth when it’s just us.”

You turn your head sucking in a breath. Though your head still felt fuzzy you weren’t as drunk anymore. His words and piercing stare were enough to sober you up, at least enough to feel how wet you were between your legs. 

He places his hand on the back of your neck, his breath hits your lips. “What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?” He kisses you lightly. His lips barely molding into yours, knowing it would leave you wanting more.

“N-Nothing,” you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to bring him closer. He resists, resting his hands on your waist and tilting his head curiously, his thumb playing with the hem of your crop top.

“If you tell me I’ll forgive you for ever wanting to kiss Soonyoung.”

“I wasn’t going to kiss him, I was going to win!” You pout.

He leans in, “We both know that’s not true, you can barely do simple math when drunk.” His lips were so close you could lick them if you were to stick out your tongue. As much as you wanted to, you pushed down the idea, knowing that Vernon wouldn’t be happy if you did.

“I can barely do simple math when I’m sober, your argument is invalid.” Cheekily you pluck his beanie from his head, throwing it aside. “Now please touch me.” You say, running your hands through his hair, swiping your tongue slowly over your lips.

He stands up from his crouching position and sits down next to you. “I’m not going to touch, we’re in public.” He snakes an arm around your shoulder, tugging you close to the side of his body. “Now don’t make a sound, unless you want me to punish you here where someone can see if they were to just walk over.” He moves your leg, putting it over his lap.

You rest your head on top of his shoulder, “fuck, okay, I need you, please.”

“Patience my good girl.” He smiles kissing the top of your head. “Now open your legs a little more for me.” You oblige, sitting up a little straighter, while his hand travels down your body, sneaking its way inside your shirt and cupping your boob. You let out a low whine when he pinches your nipple through the lace of your thin bra.

A few times during the night he could see your nipples peeking through, making his mouth water. He had slapped Wonwoo a few times up the head for staring, sending him a warning glare that made Wonwoo shake his head in disbelief. He had to control himself from pulling you into one of the vacant rooms and taking you against the door so everyone could hear how good he made you feel. “What do you want me to do?” He pulled on your nipple once more, distracting you from the way he toyed with the button of your jeans.

“Your fingers, please fuck me with your fingers.” You whisper, taking the initiative to unbutton your jeans for him. “Please, you didn’t let me cum earlier, I need it.”

Vernon chuckled, “Who says you will now?” He pulls down your zipper, his hand finding its way inside your panties.

You look up at him pouting, “I’ve been good, please.”

He drags his fingers over your slit, groaning at how wet you were already. Sometimes it amazed him how easily he could turn you on. All he had to do was look at you a certain way and say something out of pocket to have you dripping for him. He loved the way your body reacted to him, the way your pussy took his fingers, mouth, and cock. It felt like heaven to him and he could never get enough.

“We will see, now kiss me.” He squeezes your boob and presses two of his finger over your clit. Without hesitation, you capture his lips with yours in a needy kiss. A low groan escaping him, dying against your lips.

He begins to slowly rub small figure eights over your swollen bud, building you up. You moan against his lips, hot tongues meshing together, teeth clattering in hot feverish need. You start lifting your hips into his hand, wishing he would just give you more.

Finally, Vernon inserts a finger inside of you and moves it with slow precision. You pull his head closer, tugging on the roots of his hair, whimpering against him. It felt so fucking good, you never wanted this moment to end.

He breaks the kiss, placing a soft one against your temple, releasing his grip on your boob. He smiles at you, pushing your head gently, laying it down against his shoulder. “Does it feel good?” He kisses your head, inserting another finger inside of you, stretching you out.

“Mhm, s’good.” You close your eyes in pleasure.

“Good, you’re amazing for me angel.” Vernon picks up the pace of his fingers, planting his feet on the ground, causing the porch swing to move underneath the two of you. It was driving you insane how innocent the two of you looked from inside the house. How unsuspecting everything he was doing to you looked. It excited you and it only made you want to come undone even more.

Vernon kept his ministrations, doubling his speed, while his thumb played with your clit. The added pleasure made you lift your hips, chasing his palm. He snickered, “are you close?” He says pressing his fingers into your g-spot, humming with approval when he felt you clench around him.

You nod, “yes, don’t, fuck, don’t stop please.” You plead, burying your face into his shoulder, biting his shirt to keep your moans from spilling out. The pleasure was building up faster than you could keep up. The knot in the pit of your stomach threatening to break from how fast he was fucking you with his fingers.

“Cum around my fingers angel. I want to feel how tight you get for me.” He whispers in your ear, pushing into your harder and faster than before, while cradling your head, soothing his fingers into your scalp. The contrast was driving you crazy, acting like the caring boyfriend out in the open. Instead of the one that had you begging on your knees for his cock behind closed doors.

“I-I’m cumming.” you whimper, biting down into his skin, you let your orgasm blissfully wash over, squeezing your pussy hard around his digits.

He hummed helping you ride out your high until he could feel your body twitch from the sensitivity. You were breathing hard, watching as he took his fingers out and placed them in his mouth. Sensually lapping up your release looking deeply into your eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that you were outdoors you would’ve gotten down on your knees in front of him to suck him dry.

“Are you sober now?” He does up the button of your jeans, kissing your nose gently.

“I can’t believe you just made me cum in my pants.” You shake your head, pulling him into a hug. “I was never that drunk.”

“I know, but now I get an excuse to keep your underwear.” He winks at you and stands up, extending his arms for you to take. “But now I need you to get out your acting chops so I can take you back upstairs and to bed.”

You smile wickedly and nod, lacing your fingers in his, letting him pull you up. “I’ll even add in the tears for free.”

“You’re an anomaly angel.”

“It’s what keeps you coming back for me.”

[excujeemi]

D R U N K [ Ray X Reader ]

Age: around 18 Genre: Fluff Warnings: UHhh, adult jokes (??) and mentions of alcohol

Simple, you know, you were graduating high school and moving on to college of course there'd be parties. And there's only three words to describe this party you're in? Wild as fuck. Man, some were playing beer pong, some were making out, it was just so chaotic you don't even remember as to why you were here in the first place... Oh yeah, your parents forced you to get some human interaction every once in a while.

You thought this party would be very shit and unenjoyable but look at you now, everyone around you was cheering you on to chug , c h u g  , c  h  u  g . And chug you did.

You were already dizzy but you know this is that moment, that sweet moment of youth (??) perhaps and there's the adrenaline and the feeling that you're on top of the world, it's like you can just do anything you want for example, peeing in your annoying neighbor's backyard but let's not take that idea personally-

You were just about to open another bottle of alcohol but then someone stopped you, a hand gripped on your wrist which surprised you, you looked up to see whose hand it was and saw Ray frowning. That's typical, when is he not frowning anyway.

Well, Ray is one of your closest friends, your parents are also both close to each other so it just makes sense. And Ray being the most trusted person of your mother, she asked him if he could pick you up since it was getting kinda late. You know if they were just gonna end up worrying about you then why even force you to get some of that, "human interaction", they're just  exaggerating.

"Oh, hey Ray my beloved , what're you doing here?" You smugly asked as he helped you stand up but your feet kept on tripping and so you slipped, with your hand on Ray's shoulder causing him to fall on top of you while the people surrounding you both were teasing you, you felt Ray's hot breath hitting your neck while his large hands were supporting your back to protect you from directly falling. The close space between the both of you caused Ray's face to turn into a tomato, red flushed cheeks, wide eyes, he lowkey wished you both could stay like that for more time. "You idiot, get up already its almost 4am." He says as he quickly got up and tried to take your heavy ass up. "wAiT, mY bAg and mY phOne, And mY StufF are-" "Shh, shh. I got them all now shut it." He says as he shows you your bag from his other hand, he opened the door with his foot and kicked it close. "Hey Ray, aren't you getting to close, haah~?" You seductively whispered in his ear making him blush for the second time. He rolled his eyes, 'Patience, you must stay calm.' He thinks to himself. "Haah~?" Okay, he decided that was it. "Why don't you walk by yourself then, the parking lot is still quite far from where we are, walk by yourself good luck tripping over everything." He lets go of you while you had trouble tryna regain your posture. "I can walk, don't-d-don't you underestimate the power of this wild creature." You pointed to yourself while making a karate pose.

Ray was annoyed, his eye was twitching and he really did want to abandon you there. "Okay, I'll lead the way then." After a few seconds, everything was going well, he takes a few glances back at you to see how you're doing because apparently if you trip and die he'd be blamed  by your parents. Then he saw you weren't by his side, well obviously not because you kept on slowing down but you really were out of his sight and this worried him by a lot. 'If only Emma and Norman were here to back me up with this dumbass' But for real, he was worried, it had only been a few seconds--what if someone took you or something. He ran a few steps back and looked everywhere and there you fucking were, talking to a celebrity cardboard cutout. "Oh my fucking gosh, this dimwit. Y/n!" He sighs as he massaged his temples. He ran to you and pulled you by your arm. "Ugh, stOp, I'm still flirting with this hot man." You whined as you tried to wriggle your arm out of Ray's hand. He didn't know whether to leave you alone or laugh at you there. "You blockhead, that's...that's a Justin Bieber cardboard cut out for fuck's sake..." Ray was about to explode at this point, you were making him want to combust. "Please, dOn't take me way, I have no flirt with!" "I'll flirt with you all you want just--let's go already this is so embarrassing!" He said to improvise but your drunk self actually believed that he'd flirt with you. "Really?" You asked and he just nods while closing his eyes, annoyed. "YaaaY~, Ray my beloved will flirt with me, I'm the happiest person in the worlll ever." To be honest, Ray would love to hear those words while you're not drunk but he can't help but blush again remembering what Norman used to say, "Drunk people always say what they truly think." He shook his head and as soon as you arrived at the parking lot, he pushed you gently into the backseat. Thankfully, you spent that whole time without saying anything, you were literally just staring at the car's ceiling like a dead person which was creepy. He arrived at your house and it seemed that everyone was asleep so he had to use the spare keys he has. He then opened the door, carrying you bridal style and the hallways were quite narrow so he felt sorry whenever your head hit some walls or table. 💀 lmfao. He carefully placed you on your bed, while you were almost sound asleep. Boy, times like this remind him of deep in love he is with you. You know maybe he should just confess of something.

He smiled and tucked in some hair behind you ear. Very wholesome situation, well until you tugged his arm for him to come closer so he thought you had something to say, when he finally got close you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly which shocked him by a lot. It was comfortable to be in your arms, if only he could stay there a bit more longer. :'). "H-Hey what are you trying to do? Let go of me, Y/n." He softly whispered, his hot breath hitting you once again but a bit more closer which caused you to hug him tighter. "Dream on." And since you really wouldn't let go of him, and he didn't have enough will to force himself out of your hold, he decided to just stay there. It was 4am and your warmth was more than enough to make him sleepy. Next morning: You woke up with someone in your arms, it was very comfortable. 'Oh it's just Ray..wait what--RAY??' "HOLY SHIT RAY! WAKE UP! WAKE-" His hand covered your mouth as his half-asleep eyes stared at you. "What are you so loud in the morning for?" Man, his morning voice could kill. Shaking your head quickly to shoo away the simp thoughts, you built up the courage to ask him this one cliche question. "Di-Did we perhaps, you know? Do the thing?" Of course Ray was not dumb but he can be an ass. Smirking, he asks with an innocent tone, "What do you mean by thing ?" "Oh my--you know what I mean! Stop acting dumb-" "Oh you mean sex?" He stared at you for a while, keeping that smirk of his on his face while seeing you so flustered and red. "Why do you have to be so blunt, this is why I hate you.." You said as you buried your face into one of your pillows. "Chill, woman. We didn't do that. You did do something dumb last night though." He chuckles as he removes the pillow away from your red face. "Please kill me--what is it?" "Well you just flirted with a Justin Bieber Cutout, nothing new." "I really did that?" You cried as you started mentally smashing your head on a rock. "Yes, yes you did." As soon was those words of confirmation came out of his mouth, you started getting flashbacks again, "Dude, I'll never be drunk again." "That's a good idea. But if you never get drunk again you might never hug me again the way you did last night." 'The way I did last night?...' What did he even mean by that... "What do you mean?" "Want a demonstration?" ..... THE END lol bye this was so bad ahvdusvud - Follow me on wattpad - @excujeemi Join my discord server !! https://discord.gg/wXSuKBXMXt

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

JK Day 2021

...and what a day it was. I know we’re a bit late with this when looking at KST but in our time zone it’s still September 1st so it counts, right? Besides I wanted to wait until the day was over for them so I could have everything the members would post for JK so I could put it in this post as memory for us to look back on in the future.

Furthermore, as extension for the celebrations, I want to finally sit down, write and post our post about JK and his bonds with the hyung line since it’s been so long since two anons asked us about that so what better time than the weekend after JK day, right?

Anyway, let’s get into it, shall we?

The day before JKs birthday he came onto Weverse and posted three different things, including a cute selca:

Everyone of course turned up their creativity to post something for JK and also wondered among themselves what he planned on using those lyric comments for, and if he would use them for anything at all.

Sometime later before the new RUN episode aired, Seokjin appeared on Weverse and, for whatever reason, commented birthday wishes for JK under the Weverse post about the upcoming RUN episode. Because of course he did.

More than an hour before midnight KST everyone got a notification from vlive that JK had gone live:

And truly, considering it was about to be his birthday, I love how it felt more like it was ours with the gift that kept on giving that this vlive turned out to be. 

Lots more below the cut:

Remember those posts that JK made in the morning on Weverse? As many, including myself, had guessed, JK gathered some of the lyric comments he liked most, or thought would work best, and proceeded to turn them into an actual song right before our eyes. The instrumental was gorgeous with a acoustic guitar and ballad like melody and it was truly fascinating watching him figuring out how to sing the lines, record them, redo them whenever he felt he could do it better, add adlibs in some places, and slowly but surely a song was created with lyrics in both English and Korean.

This really was the content I’ve always craved and I’m so, so happy we got to watch JK do this instead of him just showing us the final thing. You could see him having fun, even when he got a little frustrated at times or he wasn’t quite sure how he wanted to continue or how he wanted the words to sound like, and that he really knows what he’s doing. So many claim that Bangtan have no idea about producing and recording songs, which truly is such a stupid argument to make considering Yoongi is literally Producer SUGA and we know that, if the members want to make mixtapes they have to do them themselves, which we know Namjoon, Yoongi and Hobi have done. So JK doing all of that in the vlive? Checkmate against those idiots. Especially since it also isn’t the first time we’ve seen members work on tracks, like the behind the scenes of rap line working on DDAENG or Hobi working on songs, or even JK with Stay, even if we didn’t know it’s Stay at the time.

Once the song was finished JK went on to show us several more instrumentals he could’ve worked with, each one with a different vibe, before switching to singing a song by Justin Bieber saying he really loves his songs a lot. And then it was nearing midnight so he unpacked the cake he got, white icing/fondant with purple lettering spelling out STILL WITH YOU JK, very cute.

Right as midnight hit someone started to bang on the door so JK got up to see who’d come and, surprise, it was a very excited Hobi wishing him a happy birthday including singing the birthday song for him upon JKs request while JK lit up his golden heart shaped candle.

Hobi again returned two minutes after he’d left (between when at 1:18h JK mentioned that, for the first time that night, he’d do one more song to finish off the vlive, ha) to give him an ice cream cake he’d prepared, but also to get his phone which he’d accidentally forgotten in the room JK was in.

Once Hobi really left and JK got a taste of his ice cream cake, as well as the white cake which turned out to be chocolate flavored, the vlive concert began and, at the time, none of us knew what we were in for since we all thought he’d really do one or two more songs and that would be it. And yet that very much is not what happened, at all, and I’m so grateful for it.

This might just be the funniest screenshot in existence (please take note of the time stamps):

No wonder that, eventually, Seokjin decided to come onto Weverse to post wishes for JK a second time while also saying this (the picture is from their unit photoshoot for Winter Package):

The imagine of Seokjin just sitting in bed or whatever watching JKs vlive and hearing him say last song every like ten minutes and every time he just kept going...and going...and going while Seokjin is just waiting...and waiting...and waiting? Hilarious. But it’s also really cute how he’d wanted to wait until JK was done to not interrupt him or pull ARMYs attention away from the vlive. Truly I adore their bond, it’s adorable and chaotic and so wonderfully them.

Yoongi also posted his wishes for JK while the vlive was still going.

The one who waited until it was over was actually Namjoon who, with what he said in his tweet, actually revealed that he’d watched JKs vlive as well. In his vlive JK said that at the end of their concerts Namjoon used to always give his speech like a (school) principal, as in his long ending ment speeches, and that’s why Namjoon ‘signed’ his tweet with principal as well.

Truly I love how JK was just having fun singing their songs, taking requests from ARMY, rediscovering songs, like him wondering if they really have a song called Paradise (since the Korean title is different) and finally fulfilling ARMYs wish of hearing BTS sing it live, as well as being surprised and confused by requests for Heartbeat asking himself if them really have a song like that. But since ARMY kept asking for it, he finally looked it up and his reaction to realizing that, yes, it is a real song of theirs and also that that’s the song we were talking about which he’d completely forgotten about? Hilarious but also kind of heartbreaking for all the Heartbeat enthusiasts.

Here is the full list of all the songs he sang, some for longer, some shorter:

One thing that this vlive showed really well was just how amazing of a singer JK really is. It’s easy for people to dismiss his talent during concerts or performances, since they could always argue that him and the others get help due to the backing track etc., but here we had his raw voice singing along to their songs much the way any of us do. And he sounded stunning beginning to end. He’s such a talented singer and he’s worked so hard on his technique and voice and it’s really showing. Thinking back to what he said in his BE comeback Weverse interview about how he’d like to one day he brave enough to do a three hour concert on his own, I’d say this vlive shows that really shouldn’t be any kind of problem at all. If ARMY can listen to him essentially do karaoke for one and a half hours, then attending and enjoying a full on JK concert would be no issue whatsoever. It’d actually be amazing, I’m certain, and I’d totally be down to seeing that potentially become a reality one day in the future.

After two and a half hours, the vlive ultimately came to a close and JK said his goodbyes.

Hours later Hobi appeared on Weverse wondering what pictures of JK he could/should post for his traditional picture “spam” and everyone was immediately super excited. Hobi’s gallery holds some wonderful treasures so we all looked forward to what he would end up posting, though it would take a few hours until it would happen.

The funny thing is that he posted the first twt twice since the picture with Namjoon in it had Hobi’s iPhone in it which, as good Samsung representative, was a no, no, so he deleted the twt and posted it again with some stickers covering the phone. So cute. And his picture choices are wonderful. I particularly love that picture of JK in the white room dressed in black from back in 2019 when they performed Boy with Luv. And also their picture from a dinner the two of them went on together back in 2018.

In the meantime before Hobi posted his pictures, as requested in the picture that BH had posted for JKs birthday on the staff BTS account at midnight, one of the members posted his meal though it’s unclear which one of them it might’ve been. Looks super yummy though, wow.

And eventually the final member to come and wish JK a happy birthday was Jimin (and yes, I know Jimin’s twt came before Hobi’s but considering Hobi already wished him a happy birthday at midnight, that makes Jimin the last one):

Trans (cr. haruharu_w_bts):

our maknae happy birthday  i wish <you a happy birthday> a lot and a lot #KkookieHappyBirthday #JIMIN #HAPPYJKDAY

Taehyung didn’t post anything but considering his track record of doing something for the members off social media for their birthday, like giving Namjoon a forehead kiss, sending birthday wish videos to Seokjin (including roping others into doing it as well), or wishing Jimin a happy birthday as part of the MOTS ON:E exhibition, I wasn’t all that surprised by this.

And with that JK day 2021 came to a close. It started with a surprise (as in both the song based on ARMY comments and also the concert afterward) and ended with one as well, as in the In The SOOP Season Two announcement.

I hope JK had a wonderful day, celebrated happily with his members, friends and family however much that’s possible in these times, as well as with their busy schedule, and that this new year will be a happy one for him full of success, personal but also career wise. I’m curious and excited to see what will happen.

[bookishofalder]

Joke of a Batman

Spencer Reid x Male!Reader

Request: @meowiemari Okie dokie!!! So Spencer x male reader where the reader is the driver for the robbers. They arrested him after finding him in a gas station getting snacks. While driving in his car with Morgan, Reid, and Hotch, the reader is in the passenger seat telling them the location because he was just there for the money. Hotch and Morgan went while Spencer stays to keep an eye on him. Reader’s playlist in his car plays old Justin Bieber songs and it’s gonna be me by NSYNC. Spencer sees his embarrassment and  awkwardly sings a bit so he doesn’t feel shame. Later in absolute a few minuets the two started singing and as soon as Morgan comes back with Hotch, they both quickly turn off the playlist and exchange numbers. :)

Warnings: Swearing, implied SMUT (super brief)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I loved writing this, and hope I you enjoy. This was my first time writing the reader as male-so please tell me if I can improve! Tried to keep reader description as vague as possible. Thank you to @mermaidxatxheart​ for encouraging me to get writing :) 

“That’ll be $11.75, please.” The bored gas station attendant droned, staring at you expectantly. You began to pull out a few bills from your wallet, ready to get home and eat your pint of ice cream in peace, but before you could count out what you needed, a voice behind you cut in.

“He’s no longer going to be making a purchase today, actually,” Spinning around in alarm, you find yourself face to face with two imposing men, one with a deep frown and overall authoritative air with his crisp suit, the other a handsome but tall and physically intimidating specimen.

With a gulp, you stuff the cash in your wallet. Who were these guys?

“Y/F/N?”

You nod as heat creeps up your neck, burning your face. Fucking Peter Robbins, you always knew, was going to be the death of you. And now it looked like your latest foray into his questionable life was going to land you in jail. These had to be cops.

You knew you should have ignored his call. You’d been telling yourself for years not to help him, he was just going to get himself in trouble again and call again, and you got nothing out of it. He used you because he knew you liked him. The two of you had been friends for years, and it didn’t take him long to realize the ways he could manipulate you because of how you felt.

It took you a lot longer to catch on to what he was doing.

But fuck, you still came running when he called, didn’t you? Like you were some joke of a Batman and he was shining his light into the sky calling for you. If only.

“That’s, yeah, that’s me.” You replied, slowly shoving your wallet into your front pocket before holding your hands in front of you in surrender. Whatever happened, you decide at this moment that you never want to see Peter again. Because giving that man a ride in hopes he’d one day say he was interested was not worth this.

“Mr. (Y/L/N), we’re placing you under arrest,” The frowning man held out his badge, showing you he was one Agent Hotchner from the fucking FBI. You tuned him out, your ears suddenly ringing, alarm shooting through you. Getting arrested was one thing, but the FBI? What in the living hell had Peter gotten into? Got you into?

He called you for a ride. It was just supposed to be a ride.

You were surprised when they didn’t cuff you, but you weren’t stupid enough to question them. They led you outside, where the gas station was quiet, only their large black SUV and your Honda Civic parked out front. You kept your eyes down, a sting threatening the corners but you were not going to cry. You needed to take this one step at a time, and not overreact. You surely didn’t fuck up that badly, did you? They’d said ‘suspicion of aiding a crime’, only suspicion.

“Listen, kid,” The bald Agent whose name you learned was Morgan turned and faced you, his expression serious. You bristled slightly at him calling you ‘kid’, but based on the crows' feet around his eyes, maybe he was older than he let on. “We know that you were just the driver today, and that you’d probably have no clue what’s going on right now.”

You raised your eyes to meet his, “Peter Robbins has ensured I fuck up my life at least once a year for nearly a decade. This is just...a new level for me.” You shrug, trying not to think of what your family was going to say when they found out. Would you lose your job?

“We’ve been watching Peter and his associates for a while now,” Agent Hotchner replied, and your brows raised in surprise. “Yes, he’s escalated from petty crimes that upset the local sheriff to armed robbery. Unfortunately, one of his partners happens to enjoy killing. Which is why we were called in.” He stops speaking abruptly when another Agent, you assume from the gun on his belt, steps around the SUV and up to your group.

For a moment, you’re caught off guard. This Agent is stunningly handsome, much younger than the other two. His eyes, which met yours for only a moment before flitting away, were a soft honey brown that sucked you right in. He had a bit of a shadow along his jaw, his wavy brown hair unkempt in the best kind of way, as though he’d just rolled out of bed looking that perfect. And you could tell he didn’t even realize the power he had. Standing next to two burly, thick muscled Agents, you could understand why. But in your brief assessment of this new man, you could see the lean strength of him, the muscles of his lower arms, veins in his hands. He was tall, too, taller than either of the other men, which was saying something.

“What’s up, Reid?” Morgan asked, and the new arrival-Reid-held up his phone.

“Garcia can’t pull anything from the Honda, it’s, her words, an ancient species.” He spoke quickly, almost as though the words couldn’t find their way off of his tongue quickly enough. You tried not to fixate on his mouth, because damn it, his lips were perfect.

Absentmindedly, you crossed your arms across your chest, feeling tense and tired. When Reid’s eyes followed the movement, you felt frozen under his gaze, watching with your breath held as it dragged slowly up to your face. His expression was unreadable, yet you still felt your cheeks grow warmer.

“Listen, (Y/N), we know you don’t have any real part in Peter’s crimes. We intercepted his calls and texts, we know he asked you to pick him up today, last minute.” Agent Hotchner said, his eyes burning into yours.

You looked away from the other men, shame flooding through you. “Peter always calls, and I always answer. But I really don’t know anything about what he does, I didn't know he was even with anyone else today. He asked me to pick him up right out front of the pharmacy, that’s all.” You couldn’t help the edge to your voice, the wordless plea that they understand you had no clue what was going on. And if innocent people were dying, you would do anything you could to help them put a stop to it.

Reid tilted his head slightly as he watched you, “We’ve seen the messages, (Y/N), we know how he treats you, giving you a little, yet taking a lot,” The tears almost threaten now, so you glance away, looking at the ground as you nod, “And he doesn’t even tell you what he’s taking, the danger he’s putting you in. He’s going to go away for a long time, but you don’t have to.”

At this, your head snaps up and you look between the three men, expecting them to laugh and finally cuff you. But they all wear the same neutral expression, all watching you.

“Like I said, I don’t know much abou-“

Reid shook his head, politely interjecting, “We understand. But you know where you took him today, right?” At your nod, Reid stepped a little closer, peering down at you, “We need you to take us to him. And tell us any other addresses you can remember picking him up from or taking him to in the last year. Can you help us? You won’t be under arrest if you can give us what we need to stop Peter and the men he’s working with.”

You almost wanted to laugh. Of course, you would help, regardless of whether you were still under arrest; you had no loyalty whatsoever to Peter. You only ever showed up for him because you hoped, each time, that it would be the time he would go beyond flirting. That the feelings were mutual. But if he was committing crimes-fuck, robbing people, working with a murderer, then you were done with him.

“I can tell you addresses, and I can show where he is now, I just,” You paused, closing your eyes briefly to pull in a breath, steadying yourself, “Please, don’t hurt him, if you don’t need to, I mean.”

Reid’s eyes, which you found the moment you opened yours, visibly softened at your words. He seemed a little surprised, you thought, though it was hard to tell. He was difficult to read, and you’d only just met him. He nodded reassuringly before looking to Agent Hotchner expectantly while you waited, your insides in knots.

“(Y/N), Spencer is going to go with you in your vehicle, and we’ll be following behind. Take us as close as you can without being obvious. Reid,” He turned to the handsome agent, “We’re going to check the car first, can you-“ He gestured wordlessly in your direction, which made you frown in confusion.

Reid nodded, and you watched as the two other agents moved to search your car, while he moved toward you. “I’m going to search you for weapons, okay?” He explained, holding his hands out as if waiting for your permission.

You stared, perhaps a beat too long, at his long-fingered hands. With a shy bob of your head, you looked to Reid, “Of course, I understand.” And the agent began to pat you down as you stood awkwardly.

It wasn’t as though the action was intimate or affectionate, but for whatever reason, you did feel his touch was hesitant. He was gentle, considerate...it surprised you. And then his hands slid up your back as he stood in front of you, and you became acutely aware of the thin cotton t-shirt your wore, instantly becoming self-conscious. You wondered what he thought of you, of your body.

Mind out of the gutter, you told yourself.

It was then, when Reid leaned back, his hands sliding from your back to your chest, that time seemed to stand still, just for a moment. They moved across your stomach briefly, and as they began to pull away, the search complete, you looked up. Reid was staring at you, his cheeks flushed, eyes heavy. You caught your breath, his gaze was so intense, but before you could even try to think of what to say, he was swiftly stepping back, breaking eye contact with a heavy swallow.

You were kind of relieved. That had been almost too intense, whatever that was. The relief lasted only moments until Agent Hotchner called out that your car was good to go, and you remembered you had a twenty-minute car ride alone with the Reid.

Fuck.

+

The first few minutes of the drive are bearable enough, Spencer takes the wheel as you give him directions to the subdivision where you had dropped Peter off. It’s when the silence starts to press in, and you don’t know what to say to fill it, that things swiftly change.

Sensing the tension, no doubt, Reid reaches out to the audio power button and hits your stereo on. With an internal groan, you suddenly wish you could just jump out of the moving vehicle when the song you’d been listening to picks back up.

'Cause I've had everything But no one's listening And that's just fucking lonely I'm so lonely Lonely

You had put on a playlist you considered your ‘sad songs’ compilation for whenever you were let down by Peter or any other man. You enjoyed wallowing in self-pity for just a little while after each encounter. But now, as Justin Bieber crooned sadly, you didn't feel sad, just humiliated. You were in your car with a fiercely hot FBI agent who had given you some kind of fucking bedroom eyes just minutes ago as he pats you down, and this song plays.

Your expression must have been obvious, as you saw Reid look at you a few times out of the corner of your eye, frowning somewhat. When the song ended, you didn’t get a chance to be relieved before ‘Somebody to Love” began playing. This time, you sighed aloud, sinking somewhat into your seat and wishing you could dissolve into a pile of goo like the Wicked Witch.

Until that is, you glanced up and saw Reid’s fingers tapping gently on the steering wheel to the beat. Surprised, you looked around to the agent and he was mouthing the words, singing along with the chorus. Stunned, you just watched him for a moment, quickly finding yourself enraptured by the way his plump lips moved around the words, how his tongue would wet them between lines, how his eyes-

Fuck, he was looking right at you. You smiled quickly but looked away, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You really had much bigger, more important shit to be concerned with right now, yet here you were wondering what the hell this perfect man, this FBI agent that was far too handsome for his own good, was doing singing along with the silly song, and why the look he gave you had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

Not to mention, the guilt that accompanied those thoughts, brief as they were, of what the lips would feel like on yours. What they would feel like on your body. Wrapped around your cock. Fuck.

He hadn’t said anything, but his fingers continued to tap along with the beat with ease. Eventually, when you directed him to the final turn, you chanced another glance at him. As if expecting your gaze, he turned his head and smiled at you, “I’m Spencer, by the way, Dr. Spencer Reid.” You blinked. Doctor?

“Oh, uh. Wow. Nice to meet you, Dr-“

“You can call me Spencer,” He cut in, his expression somewhat amused.

You nodded, “Nice to meet you, Spencer. Though I wish it were under different circumstances, perhaps where I wasn’t a criminal piece of shit.”

He pulled the car over, stopped at the community mailbox you had described as the perfect place to park. Once he’d turned the engine off, he turned to face you, those warm eyes giving you a gentle look. “You aren’t a criminal piece of shit, (Y/N),” Oh, you loved the way your name sounded coming from him. “I’d go as far as to say you’re a victim in all of this.”

You scoffed, waving a hand in protest, “No, I really should have known better than to help Peter.”

But Spencer shook his head, “As I said earlier, we saw the messages. He manipulates you, and he doesn’t ever tell you what he’s actually doing. He just gets you to give him rides, acts like it’s a way to hang out when really he’s using you as a cover because, in reality, you’re a law-abiding, hardworking, kind man. Men like him don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, (Y/N).”

Letting out a breath, your mind went blank at Spencer’s words, failing you entirely. You believed every word he’d said, and you felt warm all over at the intense way he watched you, it was almost...protective.

Before your mind could reboot and you could trust yourself to open your mouth and not simply drool, a tap on the window drew your eyes beyond Spencer. Agent Hotchner stood there, waiting patiently with his arms crossed.

Spencer climbed out of your car, but you stayed put, glad for a moment to close your eyes and try to steady your beating heart. After this was over, you were climbing into your bathtub and staying there for the rest of the week. Maybe the rest of the month.

“Prentiss and JJ are parked at the North end, they’re going to come with us. Can you wait here, with (Y/N), and call Garcia and have him give her the other locations?”

You heard Spencer agree and bid his fellow agents goodbye before climbing back into your car. He smiled warmly at you, and you couldn’t help but return it, your own shy and uncertain. “You heard what our task is?” He asked you, his head tilted again, watching you curiously.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. But first, can you give me your phone, please?” He held his hand out expectantly. You handed it over, first pointing it towards your face to unlock it. His fingers brushed yours when he took the phone from you, and if you hadn’t been looking at him already, you wouldn’t have believed it was intentional. But it was because at the slight contact, your eyes had widened and Spencer...Spencer had smirked.

He clicked around on your phone for a moment, hit one final button and then passed it back to you, looking satisfied. When you took it back, his phone chimed in his pocket. Confused, you peered down at your screen to see he’d added his name to your contacts and sent himself a text from your phone. Well fuck.

He was watching you with an amused expression, “Once this case is over, (Y/N), I’d love it if you would allow me to take you to dinner.”

“I, wow,” You stammered, nervously running your hair through your hair. His eyes followed your movement, and you saw a glint behind the warmth, of desire. Hunger. You didn’t think twice. “I’d love to, Spencer.” He grinned at you.

And surprising even yourself, you reached out and squeezed his hand. And when he returned the pressure and ran his thumb softly across the back of your hand, all thoughts of Peter left your mind as *NSYNC played in the background and you didn’t feel lonely anymore.

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

✨Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711 @snitchthewitch

[creativeashproductions]

Elysium // Luke Patterson

Summary: The boys of Julie and the Phantoms need a hail Mary to dethrone Downslide from opening for Panic! At the Disco. While Willie is done to help his blue eyed crush and his friends there’s one issue: Willie can’t drive the bus. Moving a bench is one thing but driving an entire tour bus?  There’s only one person who can and Willie’s not sure where she is after year of no communication

Warnings: Swearing, angst, talk of death (it’s a ghost show, why is this a warning??), mention of assault, violence, and fluff.

Words: 11.5k

A/N: This is why I haven’t posted much in the last week. I’ve been writing this massive fic that I refused to turn into a series. My god, 11k words. I don’t think I’ll be doing this again. Enjoy and comment if you figured out who Rudy is!

Masterlist

There wasn’t much in the afterlife that you enjoyed after time spent in the limbo between the living and dead. Listening to songs before they were released lost its appeal just as much as dancing on stage with the ballet companies around the world, of being an unseen extra in shows and films being filmed.

Then you found a purpose a couple, well it could be more than a couple, years ago when you found a lost soul. William Young, Willie to his friends, had been sitting on the curb staring at the pavement entirely still as he had for two days.

The time from the last breath you took to walking the streets of Los Angeles was a blur in all honesty. The years bled together as you stayed stationary in a world that kept on spinning and changing, growing up. You had watched your friends hit new milestones you could only daydream about. Friends that graduated college and built new lives on the ashes of memories that included you.

Today’s walk was an attempt to escape your friends’ greying versions standing in front of a once vibrant sculpture. It happened every single year, but this one hurt the most. Listening to your friends recall stories of all the adventures you did together.

From being drunken idiots jumping off cliffs into that one lake the summer of freshman year. Or making a bonfire on the school’s roof with all the entryways blocked, rather stupid with the exits being blocked as well. Sneaking into concerts and stealing that one car that came close to sending you to boarding school.

The rebellion that still lived in you had mellowed in the five individuals with the adult responsibilities of family and work. Martha had removed all piercings but her lobes while Chase quit dying his hair colour. Jordan now had three children and a bought house.

Seeing the group no longer young had made your feet swiftly move from the memorial for a walk. The only thing that stopped you in your tracks was tripping over something in front of you.

“Ouch.” You hissed rolling onto your back with a moan of pain that faded with the sniffles.

Curled into his knees, sitting on the curb was a teenage boy about your age. Long hair curtaining his profile you found your eyes grasping the cracked helmet that spoke for itself abandoned by his side.

“Your kinda a hazard there.” You simply spoke sitting down next to the distraught teenager, “Heads up, I suck at comforting people.”

At his silence, you spoke once more, “I’m digging the tie-dye. Did you do it yourself?”

“This is some kind of stupid coma dream right?” The boy’s voice was husky from crying and disuse, “I’m probably in some kind of hospital with a tube down my throat.”

“I’d say yes, but it would be a blatant lie.” You spoke twirling a loose thread on your jeans while the stranger gazed at a spot on the street.

His dark brown eyes bloodshot as he remembered the car honking mere seconds before he heard the sound of a thud. He recalled struggling to breathe with his broken ribs and his screams being illustrated with bloodstains.

He remembered thinking how he had just bought that board a week ago with his allowance.

“Am I really dead?”

“Yes. We’re are a couple ghosts in a lively city.” You informed him with one handheld in the space between your ethereal forms. The teen hesitantly placed his hand in yours with a firm shake.

“William but call me Willie.” He softly told you, catching sight of the patch on your jean jacket—one of many from both when your grandma owned it and then when you did.

“I’m Y/N. Let’s blow this disappointment. I’m gonna teach you everything you need to know.” Brushing off the invisible dust on your jeans, you held your hand out to him, “We’re about to make the afterlife our bitch.”

A stark contrast to his former hesitance he immediately grasped your hand to tug himself off the curb. The forlorn skater didn’t question the board in your hand or how he could possibly even touch his own board. He didn’t wonder how it wasn’t in pieces like it had been when he first got hit.

That rebellion that ended your life flared again in the presence of your best friend with crashing Justin Bieber’s house. Of rearranging items in classrooms to freak teachers out and sitting in the cars turning the radio on and off. Haunting the living until the friendship fractured under the influence of a powerful ghost.

Caleb Covington had bewitched the skater with promises and extravagant gifts until Willie had taken the offer.

“He’s not like you said he was! I think you should give him a chance!” Willie cried following you around the place you had taken to be home.

“Willie he’s a bad guy! He butters you up until you give him what you want! That’s when you see his true colours. All he wants is your soul to power his magic and spread his reach!”

“I got to talk to my sister!”

“Your sister is five years old! It’s not Covington that gave you the opportunity. She won’t remember the experience as anything other than an invisible friend!”

“There are so many people at the Club that we can talk to. Aren’t you tired of the same routine and people we see?”

Willie’s pleading brought your full attention to the skater avoiding your gaze, “William Young…you took his offer.”

Willie tore his gaze from the art on the wall to find yours blatantly glaring at him with a bucket of random colour in your hand.

“The Club is going to France to tour around the country for a while. I’m dead, so I might as well make the best of it. Besides who gets to skate through the Louvre!” Willie beamed, watching as a small smile, found its way on your face at his excitement, “I’m sure Caleb would let you come to the Club tonight!”

“Willie, you are my best friend, but I’ve already seen the Club. It’s not my style, and I want nothing to do with it.”

That interaction was one of the very few speckled through the years when Caleb discovered who you were. No matter his offers, you never took the deal and when he saw how close you and Willie where he kept the skater busy. The Club didn’t appear in Los Angeles for a long time until Willie’s distance seemed too great to bridge.

“So, you need a way for the slot to be empty?” Willie asked the trio of ghosts all spread around the area.

Unfortunately for Luke, the only person they could get help from was from the very guy that placed them in a predicament. While Alex was the one spearheading the conversation with the long-haired skater Luke was glowering in his direction.

“The Orpheum was the thing we never got to do. We spent hours practising and performing with one goal-“

“Play the Orpheum and get distance from our parents. Well, at the time that streetdog and becoming legendary was my main focus.” Reggie recounted the feeling of suffocating in a house filled with fighting. A home he wished still stood, now dead all he wanted was to see his parents.

“We almost did it too.” Luke pouted relaxing his glare at the skater who openly sent apologetic gazes at Alex’s bandmates.

“So, we need to get rid of the opening band.” Willie nodded to himself, thinking about ways before he caught sight of the abject horror on the band. The skater’s eyebrows raised, “I know I deeply fractured the trust, but I’m not suggesting murder.”

“Okay. Good.” Reggie whistled relaxing his tense posture while Luke grumbled under his breath an insult that in turn got Alex’s arm into the guitarist’s ribs.

“Your best bet would be getting the bus out of LA. The band will probably celebrate the upcoming gig.”

“Could you make the bus disappear?” Alex hesitantly questioned shifting in his now vintage sneakers. The blonde-haired drummer flushed slightly under the endearing smile from the skater. The feelings create a confliction within Alex under Willie’s issue, leading them straight into a madman’s hands.

“I can move a bench, turn sirens on, but a bus is outside my paygrade.” Willie openly admitted showing his hands deep in his pockets, “The only person other than Caleb that has enough power-“

“-is he just as evil?” Luke demanded crossing his arms to glare at the male that had unfortunately caught the interest of Alex.

However, Luke couldn’t blame Alex for falling for this guy because well, Luke saw the teenage ghost’s appeal. Willie was attractive, but he wasn’t the type of person Luke would fall for. Plus he had initially made Alex incredibly happy, and Luke would never blame Alex for that.

“She is as different from Caleb as one can be. She uh…she taught me everything about being a ghost. Actually, found me where I died.” Willie cleared his throat as the guilt and sadness reared its head from deep within him. The guilt of leaving his little sister to grow up without him and the sorrow of not growing up with the girl.

It wasn’t often Willie allowed himself to remember the little girl, barely five when he died, who was always dancing. His little sister adored the colour purple and anything shiny and more than once Willie had let her dress him up. Willie’s greatest regret is that he’d never have that interaction with her. God, she’d be around his age now and in high school.

“Okay, so where is she?” Reggie clapped his hands, bringing the skater out of his thoughts and back into the present.

Luke saw the hesitation in Willie, “There’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“Kinda?” Willie trailed off bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I haven’t seen her in years now. Last time I saw her we fought about the whole joining Caleb thing? I’m not even sure if she’s still in LA.”

“Of fucking course,” Luke grunted shoving both hands in his hair taking a few steps away from the other ghosts.

First, he dies, then he gets caught up in some bullshit revenge plot, then makes a deal with the devil without realizing it, and now their one chance is going up in flames. Luke Patterson was livid with the universe and the shitty hand he had been dealt, but at least he had his friends with him.

“It can’t hurt to look for her?” Reggie innocently offered with a shake of his shoulders, “It’s not like we have any other option.”

“Did we ever even have options?” Luke hissed, causing Willie and Alex each to flinch with the different guilt they carried.

Alex was guilty of going to Willie for help when getting back at Bobby was the biggest thing. Willie was guilty of ignoring his instincts on keeping Alex as far from Caleb as he could be he just wanted to impress the drummer. It’s not like Willie had many options for dating, and well, Alex was the first to get his entire focus.

“Dude. Stop. No one saw it coming.” Reggie bumped his hip against the annoyed guitarist, “Let’s find this ghost and get our shot at playing.”

The quartet of dead guys didn’t have high hopes of finding the girl in question, but it seemed the universe took pity on Luke Patterson. Just two hours into their search on the edges of the city limits an individual was walking.

The person’s stature leaned against a smashed concrete wall of the skeleton of where a building once was. The only thing the group could make out was a faded jean jacket with splotches of colour. Her ankles crossed as her back leaned against the cement, oozed laid back confidence. Coming closer, Luke noticed the sunglasses perched on top of her head and the lips painted dark.

“What do you need Willie? I heard you were looking for me.” The husky voice drew Luke in the most. The lead guitarist of Julie and the Phantoms enamoured with the girl.

“How’d-“Willie’s question was cut off as you simply tapped your right index finger against your temple.

“How do you think you managed to get here?” You inquired pushing off the cement to stride over to the group. To Willie’s surprise, he was tugged into your embrace before swiftly pushed away, “Come on. We should head in before someone catches us.”

In the dark as much as the other three ghosts, Willie dutifully followed you past the pieces of cement littered around the area. Gasps of surprise sounded as the once empty space became filled with buildings. It was not as extravagant as the hotel the Club worked out of, but it was hidden from the living and dead eyes.

“Where did this come from?” Reggie gasped astounded by the people once hidden from his view, moving around the area. 

“This is Elysium. Don’t judge the name I lost the right in a poker game with Susie and Rudy. I’m Y/N.” You informed the group leading them to the gate where two people stood stoically guarding it, “Rudy was hellbent on calling it Valhalla.”

“This is Luke, Reggie and Alex.” Willie gestured to the awed trio of musicians only lingering on the blonde. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see the attraction between the skater and the blonde; finding a date in the afterlife was a lot harder than the living.

Nodding a greeting to the two ghosts, you lead the group to a building painted a pretty turquoise blue colour. The sign above the double doors a stark white with calligraphy writing simply stating Elysium Management. It was a building set up like an administrative office of three stories, and you led the group right up to the top floor.

“Just a heads up…Rudy is a little suspicious of people.” You admitted standing outside a door with a nameplate the only descriptor, “He’ll come off a little gruff and rude, but when you get passed that he doesn’t shut up.”

“I can hear you through the door dumbass.” The words were called out from the office door opening.

The man standing in the entry wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His honey-brown eyes lit up with a teasing look before it shuttered at the sight of four strangers behind you. Rudy had valid reasons to not fully trust people after the shitshow in his hometown when he was alive.

“And you’ve brought strangers.” Rudy deadpanned with a sigh concluding his sentence as he stepped back into the office. It appeared like the world repositioned itself on the young man’s shoulders once more.

“I should be done within the hour. We can go over everything.” You informed your business partner and friend. Receiving only a nod from Rudy, you closed the door to his office, cutting off the view from your guests.

“He’s..uh.”

“Standoffish? Rudy keeps his past to himself, all he’s ever revealed is that he’s from a town a few hours away.” You spoke, opening the door to your own office decorated differently from Rudy’s more sterile black and white aesthetic.

Your office had splashes of colour with vintage posters of both music and film framed on the walls—a plush couch in the corner with a basket of blankets next to it. Instead of sitting behind the dark desk, you chose the couch instead. As you settled in the corner, you flicked one finger bringing an extra seat over.

The motion shocking the three boys accompanying Willie who had seen the abilities himself.

“Okay so why did you want to search for me?” You questioned the skater leaning back in the seat.

“When did this all happen?” Willie countered gesturing to the office in a building settled in the middle of a ghost town. A literal ghost town.

“There’s an empty lot in LA that used to house an abandoned apartment building that Rudy and I both called home. Of course, it was torn down, and we kinda knew that there’s wasn’t a place that didn’t have the threat of being annihilated at some point.” The memories of those unknown days trickled into your mind among the more positive ones, “We wanted a home. A place to call our own.”

“A week or so later a skittish pixie of a brunette crashed into us full speed. Susie had a certain ability that Caleb desired to have under his thumb. There are so many ghosts he had manipulated into selling him their soul. Rudy and I both wanted to stop Caleb from having that chance for everyone.” You continued, “Can I show you?”

The moon shone through the light clouds as a duo wandered LA’s streets in different mental states. The only home you had known had been unceremoniously ripped down with no future plans in place. Your entire life had been in that apartment in a building you had once thought only you inhabited. You had been unaware that on a separate floor, Rudy had been dwelling.

The two teens in starkly different clothing grew close with each other through the whole being the dead thing they shared. The mission was to find another place too, use but the feeling of home being ripped away tore at their hearts. The apartment was a place Caleb Covington hadn’t been aware of.

Your thoughts threatened to turn darker as a force knocked you onto your bac—aA short brunette groaning in pain to the left of you. The girl was Gwen, who would become very important to both Rudy and you.

I’ve always been a little different than most people. I can move things short distances, but I developed a specific talent. I can get inside people’s minds to plant, remove or alter memories or simply talk and read their thoughts.

The sound of your voice in their heads freaked them out more than they would like to admit. The intrusive tickle of something in their brains unsettling as you made a more present entry so they could feel it.

“What?”

“This is why I can’t be anywhere near Caleb. The whole reason he gives people stamps and takes their souls is because of me.” You fully admitted clasping your fingers in your lap, “He couldn’t cope with the fear of another ghost leaving so added a stipulation to joining his Club.”

“How did you come to create Elysium?” Alex inquired leaning forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees. Luke and Reggie followed his posture as the anticipation built.

“Everyone deserves a safe place. A place as far away from Caleb as possible and we do so for free. No fee is required, and ghosts are free to come and go as they please. They are welcome as long as their unfinished business keeps them in this plane.”

It sounded like a sweet deal to the group of teens, but they had other commitments, “You can tell us more, but we need your help.”

The pleading in the messy-haired brunette tore at your heartstrings like the one time Willie brought you to his house. It had been shortly before your friendship fractured, a few years ago. He had brought you to a suburb for low-income families and straight to the backyard where a twelve-year-old year danced.

The dead skater boy and the rebel sat in the patio chair on the tiny porch nestled in the postmark sized backyard. A quintet of pre-pubescent girls danced on the lawn to some bubblegum pop song. The Young girl was submissive to a more confident girl even when the venue was the Young girl’s home.

“The girl to the left is my little sister Kayla. She’s twelve now, it’s been seven years since I died.” Willie’s brown eyes saddened at the dancer who had a spark of maturity in her eyes, “I check in every once in a while. These are Kayla’s friends. The bossy girl is Carrie, and while the band is a group, she is the unofficial leader of the band Carrie’s Constellations.”

 “She looks happy.”

“Kayla’s always been bubbly in personality, but she had questionable friends.” Willie outright admitted keeping his eyes pinned to the girl that had grown up in a blink of an eye. Her dark hair concealed by the gaudy purple wig; the colour assigned to the teenager.

“It’s nice that she still enjoys dance.” Willie finished reaching out to grab your hand in his and just like that Willie transitioned back into carefree, “I found this really cool skatepark I think you’d like.”

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Alex winced as the three musicians flinched as a sudden purple spark of colour lit up their midsections.

Like a tentacle, your mind reached into the quiet raven-haired boy with the leather jacket. Beyond the imagery of docile golden retrievers and steaming plates of food, you found the regret and fear in the boy. Stepping into a recent memory, you watched their experience at the Hollywood Ghost Club.

“You’ve met Caleb.” You sighed roughly pushing your index finger between your brows feeling the familiar ache.

“It was a stupid decision,” Luke spoke up, tearing his focus from the mysterious girl that ultimately had the power in her hands. The entire plan was weighing on the decision you would give, “Either we join his house band, or we don’t exist.”

“Hm.” You spoke as the kaleidoscope of colours in Luke’s eyes glittered under the sterile lights of the room. It was difficult to look away from the enthralling teenage ghost, but the emotion wafting off Willie was concerning.

“They died before they could perform at the Orpheum. We’re banking that getting the opening slot with giving them the push into crossing over.” The long-haired skater leaned closer, “I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t do much.”

“So, you want to pull ’09 incident again?” You completely ignored the trio on the couch staring directly at the sheepish skater with raised eyebrows, “Only this time without the train?”

“Train?” Alex whispered, looking between the two long-time friends with interest and then next thing he knew Alex was in the backseat of a van crushed between Reggie and Luke equally confused.

Chicago, Illinois 2009

William Young and Y/N Y/L/N were complete hellions in the ghost world, creating havoc that fascinated the living population. The recent event being the highjacking of a van filled with drunk teenage boys. These boys had been the sole reason a young girl was recovering in a hospital with life-threatening injuries. The scene changed to a hospital room with Willie and Y/N watching a girl with massive bruising laid.

It had hit both Willie and Y/N hard catching the tail end of the new report, Willie thinking of how that could have been his sister. Even if Kayla was only five years old, having a sister set things more in perspective. For you it was a flashback to when you were alive and thus led you to the ICU room for the girl.

Slipping into her unconscious mind was easy but while the injured teen appeared peaceful to the hospital staff, she was anything but. The poor girl’s mind replayed the traumatic incident over and over like a movie; keeping in the shadows, you gently repainted the portrait with lighter and brighter images. 

For Willie, he watched as you wavered on your ghostly feet and smoothed out the features of the girl. The heart monitor subtly changing as the injured girl relaxed, and suddenly your interference heightened her chances of survival.

“I got it.” You spoke to Willie with a heated glare on your features and when the ghostly musician trio blinked they were back in the van.

Your hands gripped the van’s steering wheel with Willie turned in the passenger seat to watch a group of living boys scream. To the living eyes in the van, no one was in the front seats but whispered words spoke into their minds.

You’re going to go straight to the police and tell them what you did. You’ll hand over the photographic evidence and demand the worst punishment. You’ll leave the girl alone, or we’ll come back to finish our job. You will pay for the hospital bills if the family agrees. 

The boys trembled with the putrid scent of urine permeating the enclosed vehicle. The distant sound of a train echoed in the distance as the van stopped on the tracks. No matter how much the living boys moved the doors refused to open, and the windows remained unbreakable.

“WE promise!” The ringleader cried, slamming his shoulder against the door with the train’s bright lights illuminating the van.

“Let us go!” The other screamed, slamming his bruising hands on the window.

Alex was flinching at each slam of fists on the glass, leaving smears of blood. Knuckles broke from the window. At the very last second, your foot slammed the gas pedal taking the van millimetres from the train screeching on the tracks.

You and Willie stared at the stationary train lit up from the van’s headlights with the rhythmic flashes of the red and blue police lights. The van’s seat arrangement was different with the ringleader in the driver’s seat. 

The three ghost musicians standing unseen behind the duo but in the real world out of the dreamlike memory you knew.

Elysium, Present Day

“Holy fucking shit.” Alex cussed out of breath, leaning back on the couch with shaking limbs and fear in his bloodless veins.

Luke’s eyes blinked owlishly at the boy that he had once thought could never do something as terrifying and torturous. He was afraid to even ask the outcome of the life-threatening incident you did on the assailants.

“That is the reason for the train.” You barely glanced at the shaken trio to stare at who had once been your partner in crime, “Willie, I have responsibilities here. We just opened a new division for the children we house here.”

“It would take a few hours.” Willie pleaded, positioning his hands into a pleading position turning on his charm. The puppy eyes you had always struggled to say no to as if you weren’t the type of person easily capable of staying strong.

“We’ll do anything.” Luke pleaded just as much recalling the countless times he had charmed himself out of situations, “Please help us.”

“I’ll have to make arrangements with Rudy and Susie, but I might be able to pull some strings. I’m really sorry Willie, but I’m gonna need to erase your knowledge of this place. There are too many people depending on this setup.”

Outside the Orpheum

Outside the legendary venue, three out of four band members for Julie and the Phantoms walked up to the marquee. Hopefully, the letters for Downslide would be changed into their band name just under the main act. Everything was riding on Willie and Y/N’s capabilities. Trusting the skater was challenging to do and more so someone they didn’t fully know.

“Look, don’t worry, guys. Willie said he’d get us on that marquee.” Alex soothed his friends on each side of him. All three wearing concerned expressions at the place that hopefully was their last stop before crossing over.

“This is gonna work, right?” Reggie questioned with his hand confidently sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. The relaxed posture a juxtaposition to the anxiety and nerves on his flushed face.

“It has to.” Luke’s lips pursed into a pout with his words tinged with a dialect different from his best friends. The faint souvenir from the place he spent a few years growing up before moving to LA.

Luke’s words were highlighted by the groans of pain as that flash of purple courtesy of Caleb’s death stamp appeared. All three hunched over clutched their chests breathing through the pain; Luke was the first to unfurl his form.

“Whoa!” You gasped flashing underneath the marquee beside Willie. Rushing to give Luke support without even a second thought.

When the aftershock faded, the guitarist stood straight up with a thankful smile that boarded on adoration.

“Are you guys, okay?” Willie asked, keeping back with the swell of guilt that happened, seeing the familiar symptoms of post-shock. He had felt them a time or two in the time he had sold his soul to his unfortunate boss.

“Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t felt before,” Alex replied, rubbing his hand over the baby blue shirt he had chosen today. His blue eyes doing their best to avoid looking into the puppy-like ones of the skater, “How’d it go?”

“Well, when that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus 200 miles outside of Vegas.” Willie proudly announcing turning on his heel to show off the Downslide jacket he took from the lead singer. His fist extending to bump yours instinctively before he did so with Luke.

“With no chance of getting back in time.” You snickered in response living on the adrenaline and nostalgia of the rebellion. With Elysium, you had turned around your life, “Meaning-“

“-there’s probably a promoter upstairs right about now freakin’ out.”

 “Nah. This is Hollywood, man.” Willie scoffed with a wave of his hand matching the one you supplied, “I’m sure he’s being very professional.”

As Willie finished his sentence up in the promotor’s office out of earshot of the ghosts stood a very pissed adult. His finger-wagging his finger with teeth clenched, his flushed skin a juxtaposition to the cheery blue Hawaiian style shirt. Frank Wolfe couldn’t believe how stupid his once opening band was.

“What do you mean the bus drove itself into the middle of the desert?” Frank questioned progressively growing more and more frustrated. His assistant Tasha casting concerned looks to her typically collected boss, “BUSES DON’T DRIVE THEMSELVES!”

Tasha flinched at the sudden loud growl of the sentence but more so as Wolfe starting slamming the phone into the cradle. Her fingers halting on her keyboard, going over the list of frequent acts. Unfortunately, the five acts had other commitments causing Tasha to fear tonight. The blonde lady was worried Wolfe could have a breakdown once more.

While Willie snickered to his own words, your eyes, not your mind, could read that Alex wanted to talk to the skater. With only a teasing jab of your elbow in Willie’s ribs you shuffled around the drummer to join Reggie and Luke away from the ‘will they won’t they’ couple.

“So, can you do me a favour?” Luke hesitantly questioned you with his inquisitive eyes a greener colour in the sunlight. His attractive eyes took your full attention with a simple tilt of your head, “Julie’s family means a lot to us, and could you keep an eye on them?”

“And Carlos,” Reggie interjected rocking on his polished pleather boots he had spent ages on finding for his rocker aesthetic back in the ’90s.

“-Julie’s little brother.” Luke supplied at the confusion painted clearly on your pretty features. His green eyes scoured your face as he always did that flushed both his and your faces red.

“Yeah, of course, I can.” You firmly told the two dead boys each standing tense in front of you.

You could easily see the love they held for the living family that had come to mean so much in such a short amount of time. Since first meeting them you had always gotten the feeling that their living years weren’t the best. For Alex, it was living in the ’90s as a young gay teenager during a terrifying time for the LGBTQ+ community. Reggie flinched at the raised voices, and Luke had longingly stared after the happy families milling around the Elysium.

“Did you ever find out what your unfinished business was?” Reggie inquired fixing a strand of his dark hair that had fallen onto his blemish-free skin. Your smile faltered at his question; nonetheless, you answered.

“I did.” The two words carried a sense of pain with them. Your eyes unfocused recalling the euphoric feeling of seeing the breathtaking white light of the peace exuding from the beyond and the agony of denying crossing over.

“How-“

“Hey! Y/N!” Willie called out to the young denim wearing ghost with his beaming grin, “Don’t go stealing buses without me!”

Luke swore he could see your laughter in the air, just as endearing as the smoky quality your voice carried.

“Don’t go glitter bombing criminals.” You returned as your best friend dropped his board to skate off to wherever he was needed. It was bittersweet to reconnect with him knowing that it could be the last time.

When Caleb found out, not an if but a when Willie had a hand in helping his desired band it was high chance Willie would be gone. Caleb was all too powerful, and when he was betrayed, it never ended well.

“I need to get back to Elysium. Susie’s arrival is tonight. Good luck with tonight.” Your words were accompanied by a hug for each of the boys. The one with Luke lingering the most, “I wish you could play for the kids.”

“Yeah. Me too.” The brunette, messy-haired boy’s words carried a hidden desire simply to be in your space more. The teenage ghost helps those in limbo while wearing a jean jacket with patches from many decades. The jacket creating an unknown time you had lived.

“Goodbye, boys.” You told the trio before you poofed away from the busy streets of Hollywood where the band had come full circle in death.

“Are you guys, okay?” Reggie inquired his best friends, forgoing his casual personality for the layers underneath. His blue-green eyes filled with only concern.

Alex and Luke shared a lingering look, “Yeah. We’re okay.”

The dining hall was filled with long tables and chairs populated by the ghostly forms of everyone currently living at Elysium. It was reminiscent of a British book turned film series of youth with magic abilities. The series had been a favourite of a former resident.

“Incredible.” Susie breathed staring at the joyful people having a place to call home. Making the limbo between life and death more bearable.

“We’ve done well. You smiled, wrapping an arm around her waist, “It’s so nice to have you back.”

Elysium was so much more than you could ever hope for. It kept growing and growing with more ghosts. Since the founding of the haven, new developments continuously happened with one resident’s unique ability.

Harvey had joined the haven a year into the founding bringing the ability to gift the residents with the capacity to eat. During his life, Harvey had been a renowned chef and the dream to make food it carried into his death. As long as Harvey cooked the food with his volunteer staff ghosts were able to eat it.

“Harvey has outdone himself again,” Rudy announced his arrival at your side with his arms crossed, displaying his corded muscles. The constellation of moles on his face standing on his pale creamy skin.

“Rudy!” Susie squealed, throwing herself into his arms with the same glee that came each time. Susie and Rudy since their first meeting had a special bond as chosen siblings who bonded over heartache.

Rudy had died, leaving his best friend and his strawberry blonde girlfriend in the living world back in their dark hometown. It was just one tidbit he had revealed throughout your friendship. The only physical connection to his living friends was the three picture on his desk of a group of people.

The first picture had a lean version of Rudy with his arms thrown over a Hispanic boy with a crooked jaw and glimmering brown eyes. The Hispanic boy had his arm around a pretty brunette girl with deep dimples and wavy brown hair. The two boys wore a sports uniform of some kind holding lacrosse sticks.

The second picture had Rudy and the Hispanic teen again but with a beautiful petite strawberry blonde. Along with them was a brunette with blunt chin-length hair and hardened features besides a shorter blonde male with blue eyes.

The last picture was of Rudy with the same Hispanic boy wearing graduation caps and gowns with two beaming adults. The male adult wore a tan shirt adorned with a star on his left pec and dark brown pants. He had to be Rudy’s father with similar features. The woman was of Hispanic descent with laugh lines, and thick dark curly hair pulled into a half do; obviously the Hispanic teen’s mother.

The pain in Rudy’s face each time he saw the pictures closed off a desire to ask him about the people.

“Hello, Susie.” Rudy chuckled, wrapping his arms around her small stature, “How was Europe?”

“Why don’t you ask the five newcomers I found before Caleb?” Susie teased gesturing to the ragtag of new ghosts immersed in conversations.

“Family?”

“A boarding school had a fire. Those five were in the fire when it happened and the only victims out of seven that didn’t cross over.” Susie’s tone faded into a melancholy tone with her small arms wrapping around her middle. Faded brown eyes staring at the younger of the five seeing herself in them.

“That’s terrible.” You whispered, staring at the table with one finger picking the patch of a band from the ’70s, “I can’t imagine how scary that could have been.”

“Yeah.” Susie softly spoke, pushing a strand of her hair off her temple just as equally sad for the way that death had no qualms of how it took.

The youngest ghost in Elysium had been a three-year-old toddler who passed over quickly when he was found by the deceased mother. The two had been separated at death and luckily shared the same unfinished business of finding each other.

“Miss Reynold’s has twelve spirits that finished their business.” Rudy softly informed his two partners. Soft smiles formed on their faces at the happy news of Elysium’s goal being accomplished again.

“May they find everlasting peace and serenity.” Your words intertwined with Susie in perfect sync of the motto coined after the first crossover, “I suppose the Serenity will begin planning?”

“Have the Serenity ever not performed their duty?” Rudy raised one dark eyebrow with a rhetorical question. E/c and faded brown met recalling the countless times Elysium had hosted a celebration for those who found their unfinished business.

“That is-whoa.” You gasped stumbling at the scream echoing in your mind accessorized with the vintage sound of a band.

Calloused hands grasped your shaking form from collapsing onto the ground from a proverbial psionic shove. Agony slammed your brain flickering into an old fashioned club filled with people in both colour or black and white attire. You caught sight of baby pink, deep royal blue and bright red suits. The pained screams of a skater in a dark room overtaking the music in the Club.

“No.” You whispered clenching your hands on your head, feeling the dread building in the pit of your stomach.

The joyful voices in the hall muted while your body flickered with the deep instinct to leave the haven for the one place that utterly terrified you. It was the familiar touch of Susie and Rudy that kept you from finding the one person that meant the world. Willie’s soul was on the cutting board, and Caleb obsession with performing was the only reason Willie still existed.

“Willie.” You whimpered tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, feeling the panic in the skater’s mind.

“Susie help me.” Rudy stonily spoke ushering the distraught girl from the busy hall into an empty room.

Your shaking body finding purchase on the plush sofa with Susie holding one hand in hers and Rudy brushing the sweaty hair from your forehead. It wasn’t often your psionic abilities left you in such a state, but the distance proved difficult.

“Shit.” Rudy grumbled frowning, “This is bad. Y/N, we need to get you to Willie. You’re flickering, and the distance isn’t helping.”

“You want to take one of Elysium’s strongest ghosts straight into Caleb’s domain? You know how much he wants her in his Club.” Susie hissed to the co-founder of the haven they had to take extraordinary measures to protect, “It won’t work! You’re throwing her to the dogs!”

“Susanne I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t necessary. Besides, we always have a plan.” Rudy retorted narrowing his whiskey eyes at the younger girl, “I’ll take her to get Willie, but you need to stay here to make sure everything runs smooth.”

“Are you sure you can-“Susie cut herself off with a nod as Rudy displayed the reason he could do it, “Okay, yep, you can do it.”

Rudy came back into her vision in his signature position with one eyebrow raised, and his arms crossed. The reason why Elysium worked so well was Rudy’s ability to erase an object from the view of anyone. He could make himself invisible to anyone and in practice, developed it to hide items and location. With his ability, Elysium was permanently hidden to anyone outside of his power. Illusions were his unique ability.

“You aren’t the first person to doubt my capability.” Rudy informed the other ghost reaching one hand out. With his fingers caressing your temple, he snapped his fingers, transporting you and him away from Elysium.

The empty room of Elysium’s dining hall was exchanged for the business streets of Los Angeles, bringing an improvement in your body. Pushing away from Rudy, your eyes frantically scoured the unfamiliar area for any hint of Willie.

“He’s close.” You exclaimed closing your e/c eyes to focus solely on your sixth sense kicking in. Rudy’s gasp snapped your eyes open to see his eyes pinned on your feet where a glowing neon purple smoke wisped.

“What is that?” Rudy demanded crouching to touch it, but it was like nothing was there. His whiskey brown eyes meeting your confused gaze.

“I have no clue, but I feel like I have to follow it.” Robotically your feet started walking following the smoke through the streets.

Rudy was silent as you came upon a park swallowed by the darkness of the night with the moon barely showing through the clouds. The odd purple smoke the only offering of light so far from the path with street lights.

“Of course we have to go through a park.” Rudy grumbled, “Nothing good ever happens in wooded areas at night.”

Lifting your eyes from the smoke, you looked at a deeply unsettled Rudy lost in the past only he knew. His mind recalling traipsing through the forest with his asthmatic best friend in the middle of the night. The last night before the unknown took over his life. Oddly enough dying and returning as a ghost was the most normal with everything that happened with his friends alive.

“You can go ba-“

“We’re not splitting up,” Rudy growled plainly scowling at your hesitant features. Rudy’s slammed the door closed on his past life.

Sensing unease Rudy’s calloused hand reached over to slide into yours in platonic support. You continued your mission, unaware that three certain ghosts in breathtaking suits were searching for you. 

Alex, Reggie, and Luke, affected by the purple jolts, failed to find the one place where their plan B could work. What Julie hadn’t known was that the guys had a plan just in case the Orpheum wasn’t their unfinished business. The three would go to Elysium to accept their fate and ensure Julie believed they crossed over.

With no Elysium in sight, the boys returned to the Molina garage hoping that one thing would go their way: Julie would go straight to bed.

The glow purple smoke trailed through the city park into an older part of Los Angeles before it stopped. Where the smoke stopped was a vast empty space surrounded by trees.

“Well, that’s a little anticlimactic.” You grumbled crossing your arms, “Willie’s somewhere here. Do you think Caleb has an underground lair?”

Rudy cast an unamused expression at you, “From past experience. No, that’s not likely. He probably has an apartment downtown. An underground network of caves in the woods is more shapeshifter style but still not true.”

“One: You’re rambling. Two: What the hell kind of life did you have?” You questioned furrowing your eyebrows at his rather odd piece of information.

“An old one.” Rudy spoke, staring ahead, “Besides, I think we should check out whatever building is hidden from our sight.”

“Hid-“Your mouth halted when Rudy roughly gripped your shoulders to twist you to face the empty space.

“Close your eyes. Trust your senses.” Rudy spoke softly, “Or pay attention to the slab of concrete in the middle of an empty space with well-kempt grass.”

Your palm slammed your forehead with a resounding thump in the night with distance lights from surrounding buildings. Rudy squeezed your shoulders as he stepped to the side once more in turn, closing his eyes.

“Walk in my mind.” Rudy stated for the first time in your friendship, allowing you to look in his mind. Your hesitance was met with another squeeze of comfort in his calloused grip.

Your tired eyes closed as your mind timidly stepped into the rather breathtaking mind of Rudy, who felt guilt the most. While Susie’s mind was like a summer day spent at a lake with brightness and gorgeous field of flowers, Rudy’s mind was different.

It was dark in Rudy’s mind but not as if evil, but as if he had been touched by the darkness and painted permanently. There’s was the odd whisper of childlike laughter intermingled with the full adult laugh of a woman; the laughter overshadowed with the sound of funeral music. You felt the lose near that memory. Rudy’s mind was painful to be in and drowning in the feelings he had.

Your breath caught seeing a door you assumed was of his childhood room with a name you couldn’t pronounce for the life of you.

“My parents named me after my mom’s dad.” Rudy spoke through his mind with a soft smile on his face, “I couldn’t say it, so I called myself Mischief. I stopped using it when my mom died, and I went by a shortened version of my last name.”

Your eyes watched as the door disappeared, and the reason you were in his mind came back to the forefront. Your eyes watched the image forming of a vintage hotel rippling in the air before it solidified. The size reminded you of a castle, and it felt like you were storming it.

Without any more mental interaction, you stepped out of Rudy’s mind back into the real world. The very same hotel in plain sight to both Rudy and your surprised elation.

 “Honestly didn’t think that would work.” Rudy breathlessly laughed, staring at the hotel once hidden to them. A dark comparison to Elysium.

“How do we play this, Rudy?” You inquired looking over at him, “This is very different from stealing cars and scaring teens.”

“Easy. We blend in.” Rudy responded, holding one hand out to grasp yours in which you noticed your attire had changed, “Perks of illusion? I can alter our own perception of ourselves.”

“Oh, wow. That looks expensive.” You replied, staring at the diamond bracelet on your wrist matching the necklace you wore.

Rudy’s attire had changed from his normal button-up with the sleeves rolled to be layered under a charcoal grey vest and jacket. Sleek matching pants to his coat and the dark black-tie matching the elegant black dress you wore. He had taken pity on your footwear to fit your ability to walk and for the fancy place.

He even had diamond cufflinks that matched you, but the wedding rings on your fingers took you aback. Your widened eyes staring at him.

“Tonight we’re Mr and Mrs Martin,” Rudy spoke choking on the last name he gave as it was the upscale name toppled from his lips.

“Okay. This is a test of our abilities.”

“This is if our plan A of being invisible doesn’t work. The one thing we know for sure is that Caleb has never seen either one of us.” Rudy soothed your nerves with a half-smile,” Let’s get Willie out.”

Your arm slipped into the crook of his to walk to the front door, “I feel like a spy. I feel like that Naomi Roma-“

“It’s Natasha Romanoff. Have you ever seen one of the marvel movies?” Rudy demanded walking up the entrance with a pained smile, “You’re like my best friend and when he wouldn’t watch Star Wars! Never caught one of my references!”

“Okay! Sorry, we can watch the movies when this over.” You grumbled as your heels clicked in the foyer of the hotel. The inside made you feel like you were sent back in time to the roaring ’20s.

“Oh damn, this is nice,” Rudy whispered, staring at the chandelier in the extravagant lobby of the last place you wanted to be.

While on the outside the two ghosts appeared cool, calm and collected they were anything but. Both a wreck inside from the perilous errand they had done that could very well be the ending of Elysium. Rudy nudged you to begin finding Willie with your mind, but you didn’t need to.

That same glowing mist was on the ground pulling you in the direction of a dark hall away from the route to the Club. Rudy kept his eye out, a characteristic carried into the afterlife from his time with the FBI, as you followed the mist. The hall continued to get more and more dark as the walk continued.

 Finally at the end was a blood-red door.

 “I swear to god if he kills his Club members, I’ll lose it.” You hissed to your arm candy, “What if he’s really H. H. Holmes disguised as a former magician? His door is blood red!”

“Have you been using your serial killer colouring book again?” Rudy demanded stuttering his steps to place his whiskey brown eyes on you. The sheepish expression on your face was enough of a response to gain the look of disbelief could have sent you into hysterics had the time not been too serious.

With a grin belying the situation, you twisted your wrist to open the door to hopefully where Willie was being held.

“What a cliché. He’s keeping Willie in the basement?”

“Will you shut up!” Rudy hissed right back with a clenched jaw entering the somewhat unfinished basement. It was cold even to your dead standards where the cold didn’t bother that much.

At the bottom in front of a desk with only a small lamp as illumination sat a vacant-eyed Willie painstakingly detailing a fabric. The lush purple velvet fabric was bougie, to say the least, and rather outlandish for the skater.

“Willie.” You softly coaxed the teen to glance up from the fabric you found to be something Caleb would wear. Willie’s brown eyes barely met yours before they returned to the sewing needle in his hand and the tiny beads in the bowl.

“Caleb is actually forcing him to be his personal seamstress?” Rudy scoffed,d stepping right up by your side to look at the work.

Both trying unsuccessfully to coaxed Willie out of the stupor he was engaged in the sudden poofing wasn’t heard.

“Mrs. Young taught both Willie and Kayla how to sew. She’s quite the seamstress, reminds me of my old one.” Caleb wistfully responded with a smarmy smile on his face, “Well if it isn’t little Y/N and whoever she brought. Nice threads.”

“Let him go.”

Caleb’s index finger caressed the corner of his mouth so gently to ensure the stage makeup didn’t budge. His clear ocean blue eyes turning thunderstorm navy as his lips parted in such a bone-chilling sinister grin.

“Let him go? He tried to take my new house band from me. He thinks that those boys not crossing over is his punishment. I think that adorable but so very wrong.” Caleb shrugged, dragging his finger down the bicep of his puppet.

“What can we do to- “

“You see after he’s done fixing the tuxedo jacket I’m going to tie him up on the table and slowly strip away his soul piece by piece. No, Willie won’t get the quick and easy zap erasing him. I’ll personally see it’s the most painful thing he experiences and I’ll do so happily.”

“Willie! Wake up!” Rudy shouted, shaking the skater’s shoulder frantically with his focus never entirely leaving the mad man. The whiskey brown eyes panicking at the odd displaced feeling of reliving his living life.

“That won’t work.” Caleb chuckled crossing his arms, “It’s rather amusing you think you can beat me. I’m Caleb Covington! I’m persuasive enough for hundred of memberships to financially benefit the Club.”

“And I’m Y/N Y/L/N bitch.” You snarled viciously throwing your mind into the nefarious narcissistic mind of the washed-up magician. 

Caleb Convington had started to bore his audience with the same tricks at every previous show. The lack of interest depleting the attendance numbers and severely hurting the financials. So Caleb decided to broaden his talent by copying the likes of Harry Houdini.

He had a knack for both the dramatics and swindling his audience to be tricked by the illusions he created. The heightened popularity increased Caleb’s thirst for status and fame, so he overestimated himself.

Surrounded by adoring fans and journalists, Caleb had his assistant lock him in a safe with no key, to the audience’s knowledge, and push the safe into the river. Unfortunately from the infamous magician and escape artist the safe warped due to the material it as made out of. Caleb Covington died drowning in a safe at the bottom of the river.

You flinched feeling the emotion at the time Caleb had died and the feeling of disappointment at not leaving a legacy. Your continued your trek in the struggling mind of a man who viewed himself as invincible. You caught glimpses of a young Caleb with his family and the moments of tragedy that shaped him.

You saw his first taste of power in death and the content since the first time he erased a ghost from existence. It sickened you more as you reached the point where Willie came into Caleb’s path.

I’m unique, Caleb. Unlike you with the illusions and empty promises, I have real power that you could only dream of. Hearing your thoughts and planting my own words is just the tip of the iceberg.

Caleb screamed in response holding his aching head as you cruelly ripped every memory of Willie from his mind. The screams echoed not only in the basement but through the hotel the Club worked out of.

“Stop!” Caleb pleaded, shaking his head back and forth. The anguish was un-fazing to both the lucid people in the room. Rudy too busy trying to wake your best friend from the trance he had been placed in.

“I can alter memories. Remove them and even plant memories of my own design. You may take from people, but I give to people. I refused to give you anything.” You circled the man seeing double from outside and inside his mind.

I’m everything you wish you could be.

Your last action in his mind was searing a burn that flashed across his entire body from a nerve stroked. With the heat equivalent to magma in his veins, you burrowed to where Caleb controlled the souls. With a smear of your fingers, Willie’s soul was released from Caleb clutches.

“C’mon. Get Willie.” You told Rudy sending Caleb into an empty trance as if he was no more than a wax figure. Rudy eased the skater up from the desk while you exchanged Caleb to sit on the chair holding the needle, “We need to leave. I’ll get rid of any speck of Willie in memories.”

“I didn’t even get to punch the guy.” Rudy pouted, dragging his feet up the stairs away from the magician.

“That’s a good thing. I’m sure Caleb would be more pissed about his nose being damaged than losing Willie.” You scoffed helping the man urge Willie to walk up the stairs and then down the hallway to the entrance.

As you walked you brushed the minds of every individual in the building, all members in attendance, you gently removed all traces of Willie. By the time you reached the edge of the park, you had relaxed.

“We should get him to Alex, they didn’t crossover. I can still feel their imprint.”

“He’d be safer at Elysium to lay low.” Rudy replied, keeping on eye on the skater and on anyone he could see.

With only a nod, you ushered the ghost to teleport both the skater and himself back to the safe walls of Elysium. As he did so, you reached out with your mind to the blonde-haired sweet male in adoration with your best friend.

Clicking his place was easy enough for your draining power after the taxing bond with Willie’s absent presence. Instead of walking as you would generally choose you poofed on the cement pad in the backyard of a home. The surrounding skirt of the backyard encased with plants and flowers.

“Hello?” You called out in the darkness. The soft, mumbled words had your feet moving in the direction.

Standing in a circle mesmerized at the purple tattoos lifting off their skin was the boys of Julie and the Phantoms. The teenage beautiful Puerto Rican girl stood across from Luke with Reggie and Alex on each side.

“Alex?” You called out to the boy wearing a baby pink vintage tuxedo that complimented his skin and hair exquisitely. The outfit definitely screamed that Caleb had something to do with it, especially with the missing fanny pack.

“Y/N?” Luke gasped turning to see you in incredibly fancy attire matching his gorgeous blue suit modified to having no sleeves. The anticipation of eating at you to find Reggie rocking a red suit with butterflies on the fabric.

“I’m sorry you didn’t crossover.” Your words soothed the sad teenagers that had accepted their fate only to have no control again. An introduction was brought between you and Julie when the living girl elbowed Alex.

“Not that we mind but what are you doing here? How did you get here, and why are you dressed up?” Luke inquired, pushing his hands into his suit pockets, engrossed with your gorgeous appearance.

“Well when you crash a fancy Club with a narcissistic founder…any means to blend in is necessary.” You responded, “As for your second question.”

Your finger tapped your temple before continuing to speak, “I’m here because Alex deserves to know. You all do.”

The boy in baby pink frantically stepped forward, “What happened?”

“Maybe it’s best, I just show you?” Your brows furrowed to your own question accompanied by your lower lip being bitten by your teeth. The red lipstick not budging as it was an illusion as well.

“Hu-“Reggie grunted as he spiralled with his two dead bandmates into the scene that had sent you on your determined mission.

The rough action of being drawn into your memories as jarring as the first time and just as scary. The maniacal magician pacing the dark basement simply to heighten his dramatic speech. Alex’s heart clenched at the vacant look in the skater’s eyes with the faintest tinge of purple in the gorgeous brown.

“I feel like I got carsick.” Reggie moaned leaning over to clutch his midsection once you released the ghostly trio. Reggie would often gain a look of disbelief and horror from the blonde drummer, but his entire brain was centred on Willie.

“Rudy took Willie back to Elysium where he’ll be safe. If you want, you can join us.” The words were offered to both the dead and living currently in the room.

Opting out, Julie retired to her bedroom to calm down from the rush of performing at the Orpheum of all places. Besides she felt like going to Elysium was best for the three boys, and maybe they would move there. Julie would miss them, but she knew they’d always come back.

Susie was quick to hug you tightly as you stepped through the gates with the dead members of Julie’s band. The boys changed out of the tuxedos they had dropped off at a donation centre, Reggie had wanted to burn them. After living on the streets for a short while, Luke understood the need for clothing, so the clothing was taken to shelters.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Rudy told me you overexerted yourself again.” Susie spoke with a deeply furrowed brow oblivious to the puppy dog look from the bassist in red flannel.

“If I didn’t, Willie would be gone.”

“You’re pale yet flushed cheeks. I can see you have a fever. You need to rest.”

“I need to soothe Willie out of the trance that psychotic prick put him in.” You scoffed shaking Susie’s hand off your shoulder to sidestep her, “I’ll rest when he’s fine.”

“I-“

“At least gab something from the cafeteria for energy.” Susie’s brown eyes dimmed at your typical brush off. The same routine of overusing your powers and not recharging correctly, “He’s in Cottage A!”

The boys were on your heels as you power-walked through the streets of the ghost city with one location in mind. The living streets with homes of all style and colours appeared passed the bakery, the school and the clothing stores.

“You can eat?” Reggie whispered as a little ghost girl licked an ice cream cone walked by.

“Harvey adored cooking for people when he living, so he continued in death. Harvey can make food for ghosts, and so can his staff if they work in his kitchen. His pastry chef provides baked goods to Flora’s Bakery and makes the best ice cream.”

 “Oh my god.” Reggie practically squealed wholly flabbergasted by the almost perfect place you created, “How do you pay for things?”

“We don’t. What Harvey doesn’t grow in his garden, he can make ingredients out of thin air. We all have some kind of job we do. Everyone has a role in fulfilling to keep Elysium running.” You simply spoke keeping your eyes on the cottage with the robin’s egg blue door.

As if he knew Rudy flung the door open elated to see you standing there. Both of you still wearing the illusioned attire. IN milliseconds he wiped the illusion away, returning you back into your street clothes.

“How is he?”

“No change.” Rudy replied, following your steps in the living room. The skater was staring blankly at the wall.

“Willie!” Alex cried, rushing over to kneel beside the boy that had so swiftly stolen his heart without him realizing. The emotion in his word didn’t get a microscopic flinch from the formerly so-called enemy.

“Everyone be quiet.” You demanded forcibly staring each person in the room down for a mere second. With the desired silence continued, you ignored the headache forming in your head to step into the skater’s mind.

William Young was screaming to be released by the prison of his own mind Caleb had forced him into. He had felt the restriction on his soul lifted and the mist of purple leaving his brain, but he was still stuck.

He could barely breathe with the weight on his chest. Willie didn’t like feeling stuck in one place as he was a wanderer at heart. It was a reason why he had joined the Hollywood Ghost Club with the promise of travel.

Willie come back

In his mind, the sound of your voice firstly grounded the young man as a mirage of your form flickered. Your eyes screamed worry while the smile was one of relief.

Caleb can’t hurt you anymore. Come home.

The spectators watching see your flinching wavering expression and the tensing of Willie’s facial muscles. Everyone sat on the edge of their seat as the two pairs eyes opened in synch of the yells of hurt.

What they didn’t expect was your eyes to roll into the back of your skull and you to collapse onto the floor.

“Y/N!” Willie cried, stumbling off the couch onto the cold floor where your body lay prone, “Wake up!”

It seemed everyone forgot the little detail of being dead.

 “She’s fine.” Rudy remarked, shaking your arm with such gentle care matching the four guys’ care in the room.

Your eyelids fluttered open under the bright lights of the unused cottage still waiting for an owner.

“Susie was right.” You grumbled allowing Willie to help you sit up against the blue velvet couch. Your mussed hair adorable in the eyes of the guitarist utterly enamoured with everything about you.

“She usually is.” Rudy mused, thinking of the many times she had proven everyone wrong, “She punched me for not bringing you home.”

“Gotta love her.” You snorted turning to face the four ghosts awkwardly gazing around the room. It was barren of personality with the lack of inhabitants. The yearning quickly found in the boys’ eyes, “You know this isn’t the only cottage in need of people.”

“What do-“

“You’re welcome to live here. I know you three live in that studio, but here you can have a real bed. You can eat and having your own place. You can come and go as you please.” You offered without looking, Rudy.

“I don’-“

“If you don’t want to live here, it’s okay, but the option is always there. Willie, we make plans for a skatepark-“

“Oh, you had me from the start.” Willie beamed tugging you into his arms, “I missed this. I missed you.”

 “Me too.” You murmured into his warm embrace equally relaxed at knowing he was safe again. Your eyes clashing with the soft blue had Ideas songwriting already filled with lyrics of a pretty girl wearing a jean jacket with patches.

The lyrics turned into songs both in the studio and the cottage that Luke, Reggie and Alex accepted in Elysium. It had been a spirited discussion with Julie on moving to Elysium, but the boys were always there when she wasn’t in school. Often Elysium hosted a concert for the residents with the visitation of Julie.

Your reciprocated attraction with the messy-haired hazel-eyed guitarist flourished into a serious relationship. Luke took on the role of teaching how to play the guitar and songwriting. Alex took of mediation while Reggie worked with Harvey.

Willie quickly took on designing the skatepark he taught at while also taking a position at the ghost school.

“Morning.” The soft whisper roused your sleep into the golden glow of the morning light and chirping birds.

The growling aspect of his voice coming from only just waking up. The sight of Luke’s bleary eyes was heartwarming.

 A year into moving into Elysium, Luke had asked if you’d like to move in as he was the only one in the original house. Alex had moved into the little cottage with Willie three months into the relationship while Reggie was going back and forth between Susie’s room and his own place.

“Morning.” You hummed leaning forward to kiss his cheek.

“You know I thought my life ended when I died. That I could never find someone and have a family. That I couldn’t share my music with the world. I was wrong.” Luke murmured as he cupped your cheek in his hand, “The band is growing more and more each day. I found the love of my life, and we have a family with everyone. I haven’t felt like I had had home for so long, but I get it now. You’re my home. I love you.”

Your cheeks warmed up at the adoration Luke displayed in his expressive hazel green gaze just as it had since day one. The awe fell from his lips before you pressed a kiss to his lips, only one of the many in the eons to come.

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[poppysmc]

I Don't Know How You Do It But I'm Forever Ruined

Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for so so long, unfinished with a different song and Im just obsessed with this song right now so I thought I'd go ahead and post it.. sorry for the mistakes I don't have a beta so they're all mine. I'm just slowly getting back to writing again, please be patient with me. ❤️

Song: Off my face - Justin Bieber

(One shot)

Last and certainly not the least…. Ms. Morgan Hughes, she’ll be gracing us with her angelic voice, singing… uhh… Off my face? Thomas reads the cue cards, slightly puzzled, he thought Morgan would be doing stand-up, he and Morgan’s posse endured long nights of practicing her stand-up routine and now she’s just gonna sing, it’s not even vetted on.

He glances to the side, silently confirming if it was right. Morgan nods and smiles nervously. He in turn smiles back, giving an encouraging thumbs up and a whisper of ‘good luck’ as she takes to the stage.

Some of the audience chuckled at the name choice, adding to the ever growing lump lodged in her throat. This is definitely not her best idea and before she could go ranting about the title, some of her friends clapped and cheered, giving her a slight boost of confidence.

She wrote thet a few months ago, absently plucking at the guitar strings. She’s got the same few chords stuck in her head for week. Only god knows how she pulled the lyrics out of her muddled brain.

How does one go about sharing her feelings for someone who has no idea? Said someone sitting front and center with a scowl, sitting next to her parents. She has no idea she wrote it for her, she sighs in relief.

For a split second she could see Poppy’s attention snap up to her, smirking and raising her eyebrow in question. Morgan rolls her eyes at her and settled into her chair and just like Poppy’s face never moved, her scowl was back in place, listening to Chloe rant about her talent to her right.

She starts plucking out the intro, it’s now or never.

One touch and you got me stoned

Higher than I’ve ever known

You call the shots and I’ll follow

Sunrise but the night’s still young

No words but we’re speaking tongues

If you let me I might say too much

Sometimes people just enter your life and burrow themselves so deep into it that for the life of you, you couldn't remember when it all started. This case was different, Morgan could vividly remember a day it all changed, how it became harder for her to even look Poppy in the eye for more than a few seconds. How her warm touch roughly pulling her back to the argument now seemed to burn through her sleeves, pressure slightly softer. She used to meet her hot gaze, faces only inches apart spitting out vicious insults without thinking much, now she didn’t have the same fire in her veins she seemed to have arguing with Poppy.

The need to antagonize her fizzled into something else, a warmth that threatens to overtake her made itself a home in her chest.

---------------

Morgan wanted to stay home, as much as she enjoyed parties, it wasn’t something she wanted to do regularly. Sometimes it gets a little too much to handle, the music felt too loud, the people got too close, the eyes on her felt stifling. She wanted to be free just this one night out of expectant looks but Zoey is too convincing, her puppy dog eyes are too powerful for a mere mortal like herself. She made a condition to just be at the party no over the top expensive clothes, just herself.

“I’ll come but just to be your glorified chauffer.” She dresses herself in something simple, a pair of black pants and flannel. “I just want to be invisible this one night, Zo.”

“Fine by me, but if your fashion choices end up splashed all over The T tomorrow don’t come crying to me.” Zoey shakes her head, the slight dig on her wardrobe is softened by a thankful grin.

“You get dragged on The T once, and no one lets you live it down.”

“Because I’m pretty certain I said don’t go out in that, it’s suicide. So yeah I would never let it go, you wore socks with your flip-flops and had the audacity to show yourself in public.”

“It’s not even my fault, sunny ran out the door. I had no time to check what I was wearing."

“You’ll never learn. Whatever will you do without me?” Zoey smirks and shakes her head affectionately. "Stop stalling and let’s go. My carriage awaits dear chauffer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Please allow me to escort you down, boss.” Morgan bumps her shoulders with Zoey as she passes by to grab her jacket. She opens the door and offers her arm, Zoey laughs and loops her arms around hers.

The party was already in full swing once they arrived. The music was blaring; the bass makes Morgan’s chest thump along erratically with every beat. “Text me, okay? I’ll make myself scarce.”

“Sure. Thanks for driving.” Zoey winks and beelines for the bar. In a few seconds she loses sight of her.

Morgan trudges through the house, the crowd gradually thins as she makes her way farther to the back. She exhales in relief finally free of the maze of drunk students with no boundaries, nobody seemed to pay attention to her, thank god for the dim lighting. The backdoor swings open, she breathes in the crisp night air. The door shuts and party fades into muffled thumps. She sat on the porch steps, her side leaning against the banister, oblivious to the pair of eyes quietly observing her.

After a minute of silence, Morgan sucked air through her clenched teeth, surprised at hearing someone pointedly clearing their throat behind her. The rate in which her head whipped back almost made her dizzy. When she recognizes who the person was, she could already feel the headache coming through, she almost swallows her tongue in disbelief. Of all the people she didn’t want to see her tonight was Poppy, yet here she was, alone with her.

“What are you doing back here?” Poppy asked, voice devoid of any venom just genuinely curious.

“Do I need permission to be? Who made you queen?” Morgan scoffs, the slight bite in her voice comes through and makes Poppy smirk.

“Belvoire.” Poppy cheekily answers, earning an undignified snort from Morgan. The slight tension momentarily forgotten.

“Should have seen that coming.”

“The party’s raging inside and little miss newbie sits here. What are you doing, really?” Poppy asks not unkindly, voice tinged with concern and curiosity.

“I could ask the same to you.”

“I asked first.” Poppy frowns impatiently.

Morgan sighs, opting to just answer just to avoid trouble. She didn’t have the energy to make up excuses nor to argue. “I don’t feel like partying today. I’m just waiting for Zoey to get flat out drunk and drive her home. My turn.”

“It’s-  It’s overwhelming inside. I just want to be alone for a while.” The honesty in Poppy’s answer momentarily throws her off.

“Do you want me to go?” Morgan asks, feeling like she’s intruding. This must be the longest record they ever had being civil to one another, actually speaking without the sarcastic comments and the insults. It makes her feel out of place and awkward.

“You could do whatever you want. I’m not the queen of anything right now.” Right, cause technically it's Chloe. There’s something in her tone that makes Morgan’s heart clench, yet she shrugs it off as the bass from the party. To Morgan’s never ending surprise, the blonde pats the spot next to her on the bench. “The floor is filthy.” Poppy clarifies when she makes no move to stand. A disarming smile crosses her face, Morgan guessed her hesitation must have been showing.

Morgan stands and dusts herself off. “Who are you and what have you done to Poppy?” She asks with a grateful smile, sitting down the furthest she could from the other girl.

“I have half the mind to kick you off this bench.” Poppy grumbles.

“There she is.”

Poppy huffs out a half laugh and after that there’s just silence. After a while she could see the slight tremble in Poppy’s hand in her periphery. She wordlessly shrugs off the coat she’s wearing and offers it to the other girl.

“What?” Poppy blinks, eying her coat suspiciously, making Morgan chuckle in disbelief.

“You’re cold. Take it or go inside.”

“Fine.” Poppy slips on the offered garment, appreciating the warmth it gave to her cold limbs. She wasn’t thinking while she burrowed herself further, letting Morgan’s scent envelope her. She stared at Morgan, feeling guilty for a moment. She moves closer, Morgan shivers when their shoulders touched. "Thanks." Poppy whispers, if it wasn't for their proximity, Morgan might have missed it. She hoped the shadows hid the small smile spreading to her lips.

“I’m sorry for taking your coat. I just couldn’t go back inside. I-” Poppy trails off, breaking her gaze away and staring farther up the yard.

“It’s okay, I offered. You don’t have to explain anything.” Morgan understood, after today everything changed, she lost her spot to one of her friends. Morgan was somewhat surprised that instead of Poppy's explosive anger, she opted to just sit here and mope.

She jumps a little when her phone vibrates in her pocket, she could see Poppy smirk in the corner of her eye.

"Jumpy."

She reads the text and taps a reply, frowning. She turns to Poppy. She doesn't even know why she's explaining but it felt wrong to just go without saying anything. A part of her wanted to make this moment stretch a little longer, so she hesitates.

“Apparently Zoey doesn’t need me to drive her back. So... I guess I'll head back home." Morgan stands not having an excuse to stay longer and makes her way to the door, hands hovering over the door knob to open it but not before doing something stupid like asking her so called enemy if she wanted to drive around for a while.

“So… Do you still want company? We could drive around for a while?” Morgan mentally chastises herself for the suggestion. Of course Poppy would say no it’s not like she-

Morgan looks back at Poppy, she sees her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth in thought. Morgan’s gaze flickers down to her lips, wondering if they’re as soft as they looked. The moment passed and she breaks her gaze away just as Poppy decided.

“Sure but let me just get my stuff.” Poppy stands and makes her way to the door, Morgan standing motionless, hand over the handle. She reaches for it, her fingertips grazing Morgan’s, the slight static made her pull her hand away abruptly.

“Sorry.” Morgan breaks through her short circuited brain and moves to hold the door open for Poppy.  “I’ll wait for you out front.” Morgan makes her way back through the crowd, her mind reeling at what happened back there and what mess she got herself into.

---------------

She continued singing, her eyes accidentally meeting Poppy’s gaze again, her scowl was replaced by an unreadable expression, attention now focused solely on her and Morgan almost faltered. She breaks eye contact and stares at the back wall, ignoring the burning gaze upon her from those familiar eyes.

Your touch blurred my vision

It’s your world and I’m just in it

Even sober I’m not thinking straight

Cause I’m off my face in love with you

I’m out my head so into you

And I don’t know how you do it

But I’m forever ruined by you

-----------------------

The sound of the door opening breaks Morgan out of her deep thoughts. She could see Poppy walking towards her with a sour expression, she's still wearing Morgan's coat.

“What happened to you?” Morgan’s warm hands reaching out to her, settling comfortably on her shoulder. Poppy stares at her hands, she pulls it away like she’s been burned.

“Just drive.” Poppy mumbles, trying hard to be composed but failing.

“Where to?” Morgan pretends not to notice Poppy's agitation, barely glancing at her so she won't feel uncomfortable. She unlocks her car slipping inside while Poppy stares at the abomination in front of her.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful but your truck is… I don’t know how to say it without offending you? But maybe it could use a good wash? Like you drove through mud to get here. I don’t know, maybe we could go to a carwash, my treat.”

"That’s about the rudest thing anyone’s ever said to me, and you said a lot of insulting things before." Morgan rolls her eyes. “She doesn’t mean that Betty, you just got a little mud on you.” She murmurs quietly.

“You named your car… Betty?”

“What? No I didn’t.” Morgan could see Poppy’s amused smirk even in her periphery.

“You’re such a dork.” Poppy can’t help but laugh at her mortified expression.

Morgan distracts herself from the rapidly rising heat on her neck by fiddling with the radio before driving off. The sweet sound of the guitar filtered through the car and she smiles triumphantly, previous embarrassment pushed to the back of her mind. She doesn't notice Poppy's expression soften.

Morgan drives her car through the carwash. They watched the water and the soap assault her car, the material of the brushes made a repetitive sound along with one of her favourite songs. Poppy had her seat leaned back, watching the machine rid the car of dust and mud. There was something mildly intimate about it, Morgan could move her right hand then they would be grazing Poppy’s, she could do it, she wanted to do it. But all she could manage was a slight twitch in her pinky, her hand doesn't move any closer.

“Do you ever feel like there’s a hundred people around you in a room, yet you feel alone?” Poppy breaks the silence, tilting her head slightly to the left to look at Morgan.

“Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes people may be looking at you yet feel as if their staring right through you, like your nothing. Oh! Like a ghost.” This makes Poppy chuckle.

“Yeah like that. It would have been easier if we were ghosts at least then you know why.”

“Did you feel like that back at the party?” Morgan wanted to say how that would have been impossible that no one could have seen her, she’s seeing her now. She wondered how could anyone ever take their eyes of her, she always seemed to be the brightest thing in any room she entered and now even in this dingy carwash she looked so radiant. How sometimes she thinks that she picks fights with her just for a chance to be bathed in her light. Thoughts she doesn't think would ever cross her mind trickled slowly and became a raging river. Now that she found herself here with her, without anything familiar to fall back on, anything just to distract herself out of her dangerous thoughts.

“Yeah, I don’t know. It was easier to be alone than surrounded but feeling alone. Do you get it? At least I know, I chose to be alone.”

“I get it.” If she had the ability to say more she would have but these few pathetic words are all she could manage. This time her hand reaches to squeeze Poppy’s. A quiet comfort to reinforce her words, she understood.

“Thank you.”

Whatever atmosphere they created in that moment fell apart when Morgan had to move her car forward and exited the wash.

“Where to now?”

“Your turn to choose.” Poppy mumbles, still staring blankly outside.

“Okay, I know a place. You're gonna love it."

“I’m not going to let you pick anymore.” Poppy complains, standing in front a fluorescent lit diner. It almost glowed but in a weird way, like a bat signal for the weary.

“Hey! They make the best food.” Morgan steps forward and drags her companion along when she hesitated.

Warmth and the ambient sound of cutlery grazing the plates makes Morgan smile. She always came here when she’s feeling lonely, missing her parents, their farm or when she’s stressed from school, for trying to fit in like a robot.

“Come. Don’t just stand there.” Morgan looks back at Poppy, her breath caught in her throat. Poppy looked ethereal against the most basic place there ever is. If you said diners were some kind of portal to somewhere else she’d accept it and move on, for she looked like she existed out of place, alien, untouchable as she was beautiful. For the second time this day her gaze flickers to Poppy’s lips, she realizes that she’s saying something and Morgan’s mortified of being caught staring like a fool.

“What? Is something on my face?” Poppy is thankfully oblivious.

“No, it’s perfect.” Morgan quietly whispers while Poppy checks herself in the diner’s window, her words falling into deaf ears.

Morgan balls up pieces of her straw paper places it over some torn up tissues, stacked together. She’s fidgeting under Poppy’s presence; she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

She's startled when Poppy lightly grasps her hands stopping it from tearing up another piece of paper. It’s been minutes of watching Morgan tear up even rectangles of several tissues, a girl could only take so much.

“You’re making a mess.” Poppy chastises her like a child. She would have laughed but Poppy still hasn’t let go of her hand, it’s making her blush like an idiot.

“Sorry. It’s just that the food is taking a while huh?” Morgan stealthily tries to take her hand back but Poppy only holds it tighter. When they're not arguing, Morgan found that she doesn't know how else to act around her.

“Stop tearing paper like confetti.”

“Sorry.” Morgan sheepishly apologizes and Poppy lets go of her hand, hiding hers under the table, flexing it, she could still feel the warmth of her hand in hers.

The food arrives and Morgan smiles widely. Poppy stares, pretending she's interested in what food Morgan ordered. She admits to herself that for all the times she stared at her she never noticed how beautiful Morgan’s smile was. Arguing doesn't leave one space to insert a smile. It made her heart skip, imagining how it would be like if it was directed at her.

She almost misses Morgan stealing a fry off her plate. “Hey! If you wanted some you should have bought your own or at least politely asked.” Poppy mock glares at her companion, taking one of the crumpled balls and flicking it, hitting Morgan right between the eyes. They watched as the paper landed right into Morgan’s half empty milkshake glass.

"Your face!" Poppy laughs, wishing she could have captured it on camera.

Morgan found that she liked Poppy's laugh when it was genuine. “You better buy me another. You ruined mine.”

“What? It’s almost all gone anyway. All the needless calories you’re consuming will bite you in the ass someday.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Just have the rest of mine.” Poppy slides over her milkshake, Morgan grins and takes a sip right into Poppy’s straw. Poppy noticed first, eyes widening. Did She just… A revolting question crossed her mind, how would ‘Morgan’s lips feel like pressed to mine.’ Shes never felt jealous of a piece of plastic before in her life.

Morgan freezes when she realized what she’s done. She just had an indirect kiss with Poppy through the straw. “Sorry. I got excited.”

Poppy opens a new straw for her water, blowing the other end right into Morgans face, another bulls eye, she’s killing it. “Don’t overthink it.” She dismisses the act but her brain does summersaults inside her skull.

They finished eating, the last few of Poppy’s fries stolen right under her nose. She pretends she doesn’t see her sneaking a few of the fries away, she just lets her. Mind preoccupied with important things like Morgan’s lips.

------------------

Can’t sleep ‘cause I’m way too buzzed

Too late now you’re in my blood

I don’t hate the way you keep me up

Your touch blurred my vision

It’s your world and I’m just in it

Even sober I’m not thinking straight

Even if she doesn't look or at least tries her hardest not to, she could feel Poppy's gaze on her, burning, willing her eyes to look back. There's something wildly intimate about singing a song to someone and in the sea of strangers you know it's just for them. No matter how many people sang it, to another, to themselves or just for the heck of it, the song only belongs to the person you made it for. Just for her. They could never feel the way she felt when she wrote it, how her feelings were entwined with every word.

In her periphery she could see Poppy stand and make excuses to her parents. She left, she didn't see where she went, she doesn't dare look anywhere near where she was, she's a coward like that. All she could feel is disappointment. It takes everything in her not to show it on her face. Was it too late to change her talent to stand up?

----------------------------------

"Come on Poppy, pick a place already. I've been driving around for hours! People will think we're stalking someone around here." Morgan whines in the driver seat taking yet another turn around the block.

"It's been exactly 20 minutes. You're such a baby." Poppy looks at her phone for any places that might still be open around this time. "Turn right, that's not right. Right! Not left."

"Great, now were going in circles. Pull over."  Poppy grumbles.

"What?" Morgan looks confused for a moment but does what she’s told anyway, parking along the street.

"Get out."  Poppy moves to exit the car.

"What are you..?"

"I'm not gonna hijack your car, just let me drive. You suck at following directions."

"...."

They switch seats, Morgan slumps and mopes in hers. Poppy fights back a smile.

“Would you look at that it only took 2 minutes.” Poppy smiles smugly.

“I did all the navigating you only had to turn once.” Morgan complains, getting out of the car and looking around the parking lot. “What the hell Poppy, a 711? You could have told me, I could have turned anywhere and found one.”

“Like hell you could. You don’t even know your left from your right.” Poppy laughs at Morgan’s offended expression. They walked in, shoulders brushing together and Morgan shivers, insisting to herself that it’s because it’s cold.

Poppy smiles, victoriously pulling out what they came here for out of the fridge.

“A freaking capri sun? We drove all the way here for that?” Morgan complains, ready to throttle Poppy. Though there’s something endearing in her expression, that proud smile for finding something she was looking for.

“Just go find something you want.” Poppy shoos her away, grabbing a few more pouches of juice. She shakes her head and walks off in search of snacks.

Morgan comes back with an armful of sweets and chips.

“We just ate. What are you doing? Take these back, I won't buy you all these.”

“You said something I like. I like them all. Come on aren't you rich?” Morgan dumps her haul in the counter, the cashier looking back and forth from them, looking for a sign that it’s okay to scan the items.

“Are you just an overgrown kid or what?”

“Pop, you just bought a juice in a pouch, you have no right to judge me.”

“Fine.”

Morgan carries three bags worth of snacks back to the car, Poppy not attempting to lift a finger just because she paid.

“Your turn. Pick a place.”

Minutes later they're on a cliff overlooking the city. Fading notes from a song playing in Morgan’s car filtered to the back.

“I'm surprised you didn't get lost.”

“I don't suck at directions. You're the one that sucked at giving them.” Morgan says in self-defence. She unlatches the back so they could sit on it, holding Poppy’s waist, helping her up. If Poppy noticed her hands shake, she didn’t say anything. They sat closer together, leaning against the side. She could feel the cold seeping into her shirt, making her shiver. Poppy notices and moves to take Morgan's coat off.

“No. Keep it on.” Morgan stops her, cold hands over equally cold ones.

“But you're cold.”

“I'm not.” Morgan attempts to refute it but her hands are freezing.

“I can see your teeth chattering.”

“I like it on you.” She smiles softly.

“What?”

“I don't want you to be cold. Just take it, don’t be stubborn.”

“If you speak of this to anyone, I would personally kill you in your sleep.”

“Why would you do- oh.” Morgan stared in confusion, then realization.

Poppy moved to sit in the space between her legs, leaning her back into Morgan, taking her hands and wrapping them to her waist. Her hands rubbing over Morgan's freezing ones. To say that she was now warm was an understatement, she was burning from the blush that overtook her body.

“If you wanted to be near me so bad you could've just asked.” Morgan grins, chin propped on Poppy's shoulder.

Poppy huffs and attempts to get up. Morgan's arms stop her, wrapping tighter, keeping her in place. “Don't move, I might freeze to death.”

“That's what I thought.”

They had a toast with the Capri sun pouches, laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. They sat there talking for hours, the company was too enjoyable to give in to exhaustion or cold.

From the time they were talking Poppy shifted her position, now sitting on Morgan's lap, staring up at her while she told a story about their farm animals, making her scrunch her nose in disgust at one of her retellings.

They stared at the sky surprised to see the day chasing the night away. How long have they been talking? Morgan looks at her phone and even more surprised that it's nearly 6am. Time went by so fast.

“I always wanted to see the sunrise from here. Thanks for the company.” Morgan smiles softly, running her fingers through her hair to distract herself from Poppy.

No one mentioned how one of their hands are still interlaced together or how Morgan's thumb drew circles on the back. Especially not Poppy's lips softly grazing the underside of her jaw.

They watched in silence, both aware that as the night was done, so will this new moment they found together.

“I'll take you to back to your dorm.” Morgan reluctantly says, unwilling to move. It was Poppy who moved off her first.

Morgan slides off the back of her truck smirking at Poppy. “Want a piggy back ride?”

Poppy scoffs. But positions herself anyway, her arms wrapped on Morgan's shoulders, Morgan's hands holding her legs securely as she closes the small distance to the front of her car.

They drove back in silence, neither speaking of the moment, afraid it will be over soon.

Morgan stops her car in front of Poppy’s sorority house, tapping her fingers anxiously against the steering wheel.  No one talked nor moved for a minute or two, they just stared at each other feeling the change in whatever relationship they previously held. Poppy’s alarm goes off, effectively ruining their moment.

“I guess... I'll see you later. Good Morning, Poppy.” Morgan smiles softly, hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly, knuckles going white, stopping herself from reaching out.

“I’ll… see you later. Thank you for driving me around.” They both know they will see each other but not in the same capacity as tonight, they will be back to being rivals, enemies, whatever the school made them out to be. She could see Poppy fighting a losing battle against herself before she reached out and kissed the corner of Morgan's mouth. She turns away like nothing happened and exits the car without looking back.

-------------------

Cause I’m off my face in love with you

I’m out my head so into you

And I don’t know how you do it

But I’m forever ruined by you

Cause I’m off my face in love with you

I’m out my head so into you

And I don’t know how you do it

But I’m forever ruined by you

Morgan stands and bows to the applause, yet she felt empty. It all felt useless somehow, she wasn't even there to hear the rest of it. She makes her way backstage, turning the corner as the next talent comes up. She felt like running but before she could turn and walk away, Poppy pushes herself off the wall and approached her. She gulped, unsure of what to do.

“Your voice is very beautiful.” Poppy tells her, voice almost as soft as a whisper. She's searching Morgan’s terrified eyes for something. “The song, did you write it?” She asks all the while moving closer, hands fiddling with the lapel of Morgan’s suit.

All she could do is nod, not trusting her voice at the moment. She takes a step back and another and another until her back is against the wall but Poppy follows her every step. Thank god they seemed alone or she would have burst into flames in embarrassment. Poppy steps closer until their bodies are almost touching.

“Who did you write that song for?”

“I...”

“Tell me.” Poppy looks up almost pleading, wanting to hear what she hoped to.

“It’s for you.” Morgan presses herself even more to the wall, wishing it would just swallow her up. She closes her eyes but it flies open when she heard Poppy gasp. “Are you surprised or?” Morgan trails off, observing Poppy’s expression going from astonished, to happy and outright tearing up.

“I can’t believe you wrote that song for me, I thought that there was someone else.” Poppy breathes in relief, Morgan’s hands wrap around her waist, supporting her weight.

“Just you.” Morgan says breathlessly. Watching her break into a smile made all the nerves she had vanish. She pulls her into a tight hug, smiling when she feels Poppy sink into the embrace. Her head leans on her shoulder and she rests her cheek on her hair. Poppy pulls back and smiles before leanig up and kissing Morgan.