#like some booths were interesting but there wasn’t much there anyway

[cle-levanter]

some more korean festival talk lol

i saw a folk group (which I forgot the name of sorry) and they were really good and made everyone dance. honestly I was shook at one point bc one of the guys just started spinning on stage and then it was like he was flying I was just baffled and in awe watching it

then we saw the gg CSR which I didn’t know but they were really (too) fucking adorable. i was vibing with their songs while they were performing but I wouldn’t listen to them voluntarily, hope they gained new fans here tho bc they were really adorable

and ofc Onlyoneof which I just posted about (honestly they were hot, there were abs everywhere and it started raining during their performance so everyone got wet anyway *ahem*)

and freaking Paul Kim like goejrizjdkzb he was so fucking adorable with the public I can’t. It was raining quite heavily when he had to start his performance but he checked on us so many times, asking if we were ok (even in the middle of his songs he asked us several times if we were ok) and if everything was fine like glzbdkzbdk he was so touched by the public cheering for him so loudly despite the rain ;-; i think he stayed like 10-15min more than his allotted time bc he just talked to us the public so much like he came down the stage several times to shake hands, high five, take group pictures with the whole public and made hearts with fans and shit, he really was a sweetheart i loved him

and the best part was that the whole festival/concert was for free like excuse me? i saw all of that for free???? it was so cool i had a really great time there I want to go back in time and be there again

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - r.c.

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 4.5k words)

summary: After 8 beautiful months tangled up with the richest man on the island, your trist comes to a screeching hault when it's time for him to find a girl more suited to his lifestyle. Even though you tried to move on, a photo of a new girl on his arm sends you both into a spiral that ends with him back in your bed.

content: angst/smut, drinking, smoking, what could be perceived as infidelity but technically isn't. this story is 18+ minors do not interact.

You met him in September, at a nightclub on the mainland. You had been dancing with your girlfriends all night, celebrating your best friend’s bachelorette party. It was the fourth bachelorette you’d been to in a year, now at the age when all of your friends were settling down and getting married. There was no ring in sight for you, though. Your friends would laugh and call you the wild stallion, a running joke among the group that no man could tame you. You never saw the point in marriage. You were stubbornly independent, insistent that you would make your own way in the world, promising yourself you’d never be just someone’s little wife. 

You knew this choice meant you’d struggle a little more than your friends, most of whom ‘married-up’ financially. You didn’t grow up with money, and you didn’t have any now. You had spent your whole life on The Cut and you had no problem spending the rest of it there. If the trade off for living your life however you wanted was hustling and jumping between dead-end jobs, so be it. You were much more interested in collecting stories anyway, always looking for wild nights and strange characters to fill your life with, briefly, not keeping anyone around for too long.

You went out every weekend, no Monday 9-to-5 looming over your fun. You’d brought many guys back to the little shack by the water that you rented, your barely-one-bedroom, as you called it lovingly. All the other bachelorette parties ended up with you bringing some guy back to your apartment for some pretty good sex and a completely ingenuine “I’ll text you sometime.” So when you stepped off the dance floor, sweat making your silk-slip dress cling to your curves, and the bartender handed you a drink that was a gift “from that guy over there” you smiled wide, knowing this night would go exactly as planned.

You smiled slyly at the tall blond in the corner as you took a delicate sip of your drink. He was gorgeous, eyeing you up and down like he was starved for you. His large frame was crowding the booth of the VIP section as he winked and lifted his glass to you in salute. 

This time, there was a problem. This time, the sex wasn’t pretty good. This time, the sex was earth shatteringly incredible. You genuinely didn’t know sex could be that good, that a guy you met at a bar could ever be capable of making you feel so euphoric, or come so hard, so many times. You didn’t know your own body was capable of the things he got it to do. You didn’t think you’d ever want to stay up talking and laughing with one of your hook-ups like you did that night. You didn’t think you’d ever wake up disappointed that the guy from the night before wasn’t in the bed next to you. And you definitely didn’t think you’d ever be the one to pull out your phone and text him first.

After that night, you saw each other regularly. It turned out he lived on the island too, though his estate was on the rich side of town. That first night, he only told you his first name. But when he had you put your number in his phone and text yourself so you’d have his, a note popped up at the top of the text thread that said “maybe: Rafe Cameron.” You recognized the surname immediately, it was everywhere on this island. After he left the second time, you googled him. Thousands of hits came up, articles about his family, pictures of them at their estate, on their yacht, at charity galas and property groundbreakings. Even though you knew his drive back from your place was only a couple of minutes, every night when he snuck out into the darkness, you couldn’t help but feel like he was retreating to a completely different universe.

After a few weeks, Rafe’s late night visits started getting longer and longer. After he’d fold you into shapes you didn’t know you could make and fuck you breathless, you’d lay in your bed, his head on your chest, smoking a joint and talking for hours. You talked about everything, the conversations weaving between casual chats about your common interests, to deep talks about purpose, values, and trauma, to joking around and teasing each other until you were giggling below him and he was smiling into the skin of your neck. 

You’d tell him about your plans to never settle down and keep chasing the next adventure. He’d tell you about his asshole of a father and the grand plans he had for him. Neither of you ever acknowledged how antithetical your life plans were. The truth that nothing real would ever work between you would hang in the air everyone once in a while, but you’d just push away the tension with a joke and fuck again. 

Even though your nights together would bleed well into the early morning, Rafe never stayed over. It was an unspoken rule between you, he never told you he wanted to stay and you never asked him to. You told yourself it was a good thing, exactly what you wanted, as you shivered in your empty bed and cursed the loss of his warmth.

One night, that May, you and Rafe sat on your bed, eating the take-out he had ordered to your apartment after you’d finished fucking. He was quieter than usual, distracted. Just a little earlier, he had gone down on you for longer than he ever had. Taking his time, praising every inch of you with kisses. He whispered little nothings into the soft skin of your inner thighs before devouring you. “So beautiful” and “so good to me, baby” and “all I can fucking think about.” He always talked to you sweetly, saying the nicest words while doing the filthiest things to you, but this time was different. Typically he was rough, which you loved, but this night he moved slowly, without his usual urgency. He brought you to orgasm on his tongue twice, before fucking you in missionary, his forehead against yours as you came at the same time. Since that moment, he’d barely said anything to you outside of asking what you wanted for dinner.

You sat in silence and picked at the Chinese food he’d gotten from your favorite place. You watched him as he shifted uncomfortably on the mattress and twirled a chopstick between his long fingers.

“You don’t like your food?” You asked him hesitantly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you for the first time in several minutes. “Oh, no it’s fine, it’s good.”

His smile was tight as he set the containers on your nightstand, out of the way.

“Really? ‘Cause you didn’t eat any of it,” you pointed out. You hoped your teasing would loosen him up a bit, but he just sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

“Hey, is everything okay?” You asked quietly, your hand reaching out to gently pat his leg. You had never seen him like this before and had no idea how to proceed.

He looked up at you and leaned back against the headboard, biting the skin around his thumbnail. You were getting nervous.

“Rafe?”

“I, uh, had a talk with my dad today,” he muttered.

“Oh?” You raised your eyebrows in curiosity. “And how did that go?”

“About as good as you might think,” he chuckled humorlessly. 

Even though you didn't know his dad, after the many stories Rafe had told you about his father’s temper and general disapproval of him, you hated him.

You sat in silence, hand still on Rafe’s knee, as you waited for him to tell you more.

“He said, uh…” Rafe stalled, like he was struggling to find the right words.

“He said what?” Your heartbeat quickened in anticipation, the unfamiliarity of his tone throwing your thoughts into chaos.

When he still didn’t answer, you whispered, “Rafe you’re making me nervous.”

He responded to this, clearly feeling bad when he realized he had you on edge. He placed his hand over yours and finally made eye contact with you. You tilted your head and tried to read his expression with no luck.

“He told me he wants to make me the VP of Acquisitions at Cameron Development,” he finally said.

You shook your head slightly as a big smile of relief spread across your face.

“Oh,” you half-chuckled. “Well, Rafe, that's great! That’s what you wanted right?” You placed your other hand on his forearm and shook him playfully. “That’s good news, why are you acting like someone died? Jesus, you scared me!” 

He smiled at the gesture, you knew he liked the way you’d mess with him. But then he straightened up more against the headboard, pulling away from you slightly.

“That’s not all he said,” he explained.

“What else? He’s going to give you a million dollars?” You joked.

“No,” he said sternly, making the smile fall from your lips immediately. “He said if I want this promotion that I need to get my shit together and…settle down.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed as you considered his meaning, not quite understanding at first. When it hit you, you pulled your hands away from him completely. “Oh.”

“Y/n,” Rafe whispered, observing the way your lips curved down slightly.

“You’re ending this,” you said flatly, gesturing between the two of you.

“I didn’t say that,” he winced.

“But you are, though, I mean you have to,” you had steeled yourself into an impassive tone, trying to come across as unaffected.

Internally, you were on fire, feeling so foolish for how happy and giggly you had just been, oblivious to the fact that you were essentially being dumped.

Neither of you had ever said this was exclusive, you weren’t a couple, there was no commitment made. Still, the way he’d talk while he was inside of you made your head dizzy with the possibility of it all. There was an alternate universe out there somewhere in the cosmos, where he made you his for real, claimed you in public, put a ring on your finger. Sometimes, when he was so deep you were seeing stars and telling you how much he “loved being inside of his girl” you’d allow yourself to get lost in the fantasy, just for a minute.

Then you’d wake up alone, still poor, still a pogue. You’d light up a cigarette and let the smoke engulf your delusions.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “He made it very clear that he expects me to find someone soon, to get married and start a family. I can’t do that with you, obviously.”

Obviously. Your throat tightened at the hurtful assertion.

“Right, obviously,” you agreed. “I mean I’m just a pogue who lives in this shithole and you should be with someone more worthy of you.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Rafe muttered, closing his eyes tight in frustration. “I meant, ‘cause you know, you don’t want all that.” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s okay, Rafe, I get it,” you scoffed. “This was never meant to be a long term thing anyway, we’re just fucking.” 

It was such a ridiculous assertion, your trist had gone so far past just fucking, but you needed to convince yourself it was true otherwise there was no way you’d make it out of this unscathed. 

Rafe just blinked back at you for a minute before standing from your bed. You were grateful he was moving quickly, the last thing you wanted to do was let him see you cry.

“Right, just fucking,” he agreed. “And I need someone who can run a house and have a family, y'know, and understands my world.”

Every single word felt like a knife in your gut. You nodded like you couldn’t agree more, shuffling down in your bed and pulling the covers up.

“Okay then,” you fluffed your pillow, as if it was any other night and you were just getting ready for bed. “I hope it all works out. This was fun, though. Lock the door on your way out?”

Rafe looked down at you for a few seconds, your back to him as you settled into your pillows. 

“You got it,” he answered. 

And then he was gone. And for the first time in your life, you cried yourself to sleep.

It was June now, a month had passed since the night you last spoke to Rafe. You had started going out even more than you were before you met him. You friends joked that you were alive from the dead, since you had chosen nights in with Rafe over social events for so many months. 

You were dancing at the same club where you met Rafe so many months earlier. You joined a few of your girls at the bar and waved down the bartender for another drink. 

“...posted on her story,” you leaned in to catch the end of your friend’s sentence. The girls were all leaning over to look at something on one of their phones.

“What are we looking at?” You slurred, already a few drinks deep.

The girl holding the phone told you they were looking at the instagram of a local influencer you all knew of.

You made a fake gagging noise. She was one of the richest girls on the island, infamous among you and your friends for her obnoxiously lavish lifestyle and her overly edited social media pictures.

“Ew, why?” you questioned them, accepting your usual drink from the bartender with a wink.

“Look at what she posted tonight,” your friend holding the phone showed you the screen. 

You studied the photo, your grasp around the cold glass got tighter as you took it in, your knuckles going white. It was a selfie - the girl you couldn't stand all done up in diamonds and red lipstick, gazing up lovingly at Rafe Cameron.

There was no caption, just a little heart-eyes emoji and his instagram tagged.

You never told your friends about you and Rafe. You felt strangely protective over what you had with him, not willing to hear any negative feedback about fucking around with a Kook prince. You knew they wouldn’t understand how perfect and intense your nights with him were. They wouldn’t believe that he was funny, sweet, tender. No one would ever know him like you did.

Like you used to know him. 

You took a sip of your drink and tried to act unaffected by the picture. In reality, your world was crashing around you. You knew he’d find his perfect Kook princess eventually, but you didn’t know it would be so soon, or that it would be her. You half-listened as one of the girls explained that she heard from a mutual friend that they weren’t official yet, but you knew they would be soon enough. Everything would go to plan for him, he’d get everything he ever wanted and you’d just watch through a screen. 

After telling your friends you had a headache, you took a ferry back to the island and walked to your apartment in the dark. It was a questionable choice in this part of town, but you needed the early summer night air to clear your brain. By the time you got back to your apartment you were sober, and yet you still felt like you might throw up.

You ran the shower in your tiny bathroom, letting the steam fill up the space and sink into your pores. The hot water turned your skin red and blotchy, but you couldn’t feel a thing.

BANG BANG BANG.

Your eyes flew open and you turned the faucet off quickly, hands shaking in panic. It was nearly 2 a.m. and someone was pounding on your front door. You wrapped a towel around yourself and padded lightly over the front door. 

“Who is it?” You yelled, trying to sound as menacing as possible.

“It’s me,” a deep voice answered from the other side. You peered into the peephole, even though you didn’t need to see him to know who the voice belonged to.

Rafe stood on the other side, his white button up untucked and his tie loosened. It must be the same outfit he was wearing in the picture.

Your body and brain both paused, unable to process the shock of seeing him standing under your porch light.

“What do you want?” You questioned.

“Can I come in please?” His voice was strained, weak even.

“Why?” You said with a guarded edge to your tone.

“Y/n…” Rafe pleaded.

Despite every instinct you had, you opened the door.

He looked frenzied, his hair tousled, and the hem of his suit pants splattered with mud. He still looked fucking hot, his sleeves rolled up a bit, revealing his muscular forearms.

“What happened to you?” You asked.

“I walked here.” His eyes flickered up and down your figure, taking in the sight of you in just a towel, licking his lips.

Your stomach tightened at the hunger in his eyes, but the pain of the last month burned fresh in your mind. Getting over him was the hardest thing you’ve ever done, and the long, painful process wasn’t even over yet. Seeing that picture tonight was just another sharp spike in the barbed wire he had wrapped around your heart.

“She couldn’t have given you a ride?” You spat at him.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t need to ask who you were referring to.

“I asked her not to post that picture, I didn’t want you to see that,” he huffed.

“Why not? I knew it was coming." You summoned the same unbothered tone from the night he left you.

“We’re not-” he stumbled over his words, looking down at his feet. “She isn’t my girlfriend…”

“Yet." You jumped to the end of his sentence for him. His eyes flew up to yours. “But she will be,” you surmised with a sad smile.

He doesn’t disagree with you.

“She’s perfect,” you continue. “Gorgeous, rich, part of your world.” 

He sighs regretfully, both of you recognizing the words he said to you a month earlier.

“I know,” he agrees.

“Then why did you come here?” 

He doesn’t answer you, just clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes firmly locked to yours.

“She’s everything you wanted,” you point out. 

He nods his head in agreement again, “you’re right.”

“So then why are you here?” You repeat.

He cocks his head to the side ever so slightly, blue eyes locked onto your lips.

“‘Cause she’s not you.”

You wish it didn’t make your heart race, wish it didn’t make your stomach flip, and you really wish it didn’t make you let out a small, nearly inaudible gasp. His heavily lidded eyes fogged over with need as he studied your face intently. Your gaze dropped from his eyes, to his lips, to his heaving chest, to his wringing hands. He flexed his fingers anxiously, and you wished you didn’t know what they felt like buried inside of you.

Your mind was racing, a million thoughts and most of them were warnings. You knew how this ends, the morning would come and he wouldn't be there. And a year from now they’ll be married and you’ll be haunted by this night. Every self-protective instinct you have left screamed in your head, pleading with you to make the right choice.

You were ready to appease the voices, about to close the door in his face, when his fingers reached towards you and just barely grazed the seam of your towel, tugging slightly with the most restraint you think he’s ever shown. All the noise in your head just stopped. Suddenly there was nothing in the entire world except for the man in front of you.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you breathed out hard and fast before grabbing his face in both of your hands and crashing your lips into his.

He lost it at the sound of his name on your lips and the taste of you on his tongue. His hands landed firmly on your waist, squeezing hard. His lips parted yours and his tongue invaded your mouth, hot and greedy. His hands slipped to your lower back, caging you into him with a flex of his biceps. You let out the sweetest little grunt as you jumped up, your arms and legs wrapping around him so he could carry you.

With you in his arms, he walked into your apartment. Still kissing him, you reached out and slammed the door closed. He let go of you with one hand to reach back and turn the lock, a sign of strength as he held up your whole body with one arm like you weigh nothing. He walked you both through your small apartment, not needing to look where he’s going to find your bedroom.

He bent low to drop you on the bed, you released your grip around his shoulders just long enough for him to roughly rip his shirt open and pull it off. He was back on top of you in seconds, lifting you up to scoot you both up to the top of the mattress. 

As his lips moved to your neck, you realized you’re already falling back into your old patterns, with Rafe controlling the tempo and doing most of the work. The familiarity made you anxious, you had gotten so addicted to the way he commanded your body and you weren’t sure you’d survive another detox. When he started rolling his hips against you, you could feel how hard and ready he was under his slacks, and made a decision.

You reached up behind his head and laced your fingers through his hair, tugging hard to separate his lips from your skin. A gasp passed through his lips at the sensation.

“You want me, baby?” You purred.

His brows furrowed, but he was too desperate to play games.

“So badly,” he admitted.

“You want to be inside of me?”

His eyes rolled back slightly at the sound of your dirty words. When he didn't answer, you arched your back and pressed up into his aching cock, letting the towel open just enough to expose your bare core, your wetness soaking into the soft fabric of his pants.

“I need it,” he groaned. “Need to feel your pussy around me again.”

At this confession, you released his hair and pressed against his chest to roll him onto his back, straddling him. You kissed him again, just as fevered as before. While your mouth clashed with his, your hands undid his belt and he lifted his hips to allow you to pull his slacks down, leaving him in his snug briefs. You bit his lip, smiling smugly when he moaned. You licked a stripe up his neck, loving the salty taste, Rafe already sweaty from how worked up you’ve got him.

You kiss up his neck, until your mouth is pressed into the shell of his ear.

You whispered, “Does she feel as good as me?”

Rafe said your name in warning, clearly not wanting to talk about her while you were on top of him like this.

You pulled his earlobe between your teeth and bit down, making him wince, pleasured by the pain.

“Answer me,” you demanded.

“N-no,” he stuttered as you pressed your hips down hard, your now dripping pussy sliding over the outline of his cock. 

You sat up straight, and he tried to follow you, his head lifting from the pillow, but you laid your hand softly on his chest and pushed him back down.

Rafe watched as you slowly open the towel and dropped it to the floor, revealing yourself completely. He lifted his hands subconsciously, reaching for your tits. You grabbed his wrists and held his hands back, just inches from your skin. 

“Does she make you as hard as I do?” You said with another circle of your hips.

He shook his head back and forth rapidly, relenting to your game. You lowered one of his hands, raising your hips off of him slightly, one more question in mind. 

He inhaled sharply as you dragged his hand against your pussy, his fingers instinctively rubbing with the perfect pressure.

“Does she get this wet for you, baby?”

“Fuck,” he grunted through clenched teeth, “No.”

You leaned back over him, lips hovering over his, your breath intertwined.

“Then fuck me like you’ll never be able to fuck her.”

Rafe’s restraint snapped in half and he flipped you on your back. He ripped his briefs down with one hand, while the other ran over your calf and brought it to his shoulder.

He filled you like only he can, like he was tailor made for you. You clenched around him hard as he pounded into you, eventually lifting your other leg so you could dig your heels into his shoulder. No more words were exchanged, the ecstasy and exertion and emotion all too intense for either of you to form words. 

This is it, you told yourself, tomorrow he’ll belong to her. 

The tops of your thighs pressed into your stomach as he bottomed out over and over again. You hoped he would think the water in your eyes was just a result of the pressure. He must've noticed it though, because he threaded his fingers with yours to soothe you, pressing his forehead against your temple, and panting desperately into your ear.

It only took a few more strokes for you both to come. The last time you heard his voice, he was crying out your name. He filled you completely, and you were still dripping with him when he climbed off of you, pulled his clothes on wordlessly, and left.

You laid still for a long while. No tears came to you this time, a bitter acceptance washing over you. 

He’s gone for good now, leaving you with another wild story to tell and freeing you to throw yourself into the next adventure. And he’ll have a picture perfect life, with the perfect girl.

You both got exactly what you wanted…

…right?

˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚

part 2

[boyprincessarchives]

— ೀ from: your secret admirer [edward nashton x gn!reader]

︶︶︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶︶︶ summary: you're edward's newest penpal! ...unbeknownst to you. set in the riddler year one comics, in the midst of finding and fulfilling his purpose to rid the city of its impurities, edward finds that his biggest hurdle for his plans are the growing thoughts about the corner diner's newest regular. but he cant just come up to you!! maybe notes will have to suffice... contains: edward's usual creepy behavior, light stalking?, he just fantasizes about having a life with you/meeting you i guess, writer is horrible at riddles and attempts to make one word count: 1.5k tags: @nshtn writers note: heres that silly little fic i was talking about a few weeks back. im not sure why i feel more comfortable posting it on my second acc, but here we are! woohoo, its my first fic ever, so i hope you all enjoy some writing from a dyslexic and secondary english speaking writer♡ for that one person that said no, i humbly apologize hehe (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

enjoy!! ︶︶︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶︶︶

♡ you two would definitely meet at the diner he frequently visits. during your first visit there, he was sitting in his usual spot, a booth in a forgotten corner, drinking a latte and solving his crossword puzzle. ♡ the diner is usually quite quiet at this hour, and he's frequented it to the point where he recognized the different usuals’ voices. so hearing you speak your order for the first time quickly stuck out at him, like a singular melody in the midst of his crowded mind. he immediately perked up at the sound; not much could really tear him away from whatever puzzle he brought to keep himself company but... you were so… different compared to everyone in this corrupt city. ♡ at first he’d try to brush off your presence, he might never see you again after all. but then you’d come in once a month, then every other week, then multiple times a week. ♡ he'd stare down at his lap, frustrated at himself. what was it about you that made you so different anyway? you were like a nagging habit he couldn't shake, like a stray that came crawling back that his heart couldn’t help but ache to tend to again. he sighed with his eyes shut, submitting to you every time, allowing his thoughts to be consumed by you once more. ♡ he was so lucky... having your closeness grace him. and each time you visited, you only seemed to fill more parts of his mind. at this point, he wasn’t even able to focus on his daily crossword puzzles. it annoyed him to no end but... that’s how he knew you were special. you brought a new light in his usual dark life. ♡ slowly, edward's mind didn't seem to care to search for the answer anymore. he didn't need to know why you were special, now he understood you just were special. he was losing his sense of logic, giving in to your beckoning presence, how good it felt love you. ♡ everyday he’d observe you from his own booth at the diner, now for once glad his spot was usually forgettable. he sipped away at his own cup as he watched and took note of every detail: the way you’d sigh after almost every sip of coffee you took, that polite, yet forced smile you gave to those who passed by, and his favorite detail? the fact that you never visited the diner with anyone else. of course he wasn’t entirely certain if you were single or not but, it made him more confident. like he actually had a chance. ♡ he’d immediately fantasize about the day where he was confident enough to go up to you and speak, figuring out the information he so desperately needed on his own, through your conversations, and not through speculation or crumbs of information he'd overhear through exchanges that didn't belong to him. in his mind he was obviously more confident, no stutters or awkward silences. then you’d go on dates, and maybe you’d see each other outside the diner, just the you two sharing a life together. oh, a man could dream...

♡ after finding and accepting his interest in you, he started frequenting the diner even more, just so he could broaden the possibility of seeing you more often. the time he spent there was practically unhealthy at this point. there was probably remnants of coffee in his lungs from the ungodly amount of hours he’d spend inhaling it secondhand. he would even bring in paperwork instead of his usual crossword puzzle. anything just to be blessed and catch glimpses of you. ♡ sometimes he would see you visit after an extra excruciating day of whatever you did for work. it would break his heart every time, watching you slump into your seat, your long sigh turning into a groan, before treating yourself to a sweet little dessert to drown out the sorrows long enough to at least get yourself home. ♡ he’d get lost in the thought of bringing you home— one you guys actually shared— scooping you up, running you a hot bath and taking you to bed, having you in his arms. he’d wished you didn't work, or at least not this hard. (though he found it quite admirable.) he wished that he could provide for you, so he could never see you this exhausted again. for once in his life he could feel adequate. like a worthy man, somebody's hero. ♡ at times he would feel guilty for borderline stalking you. he knew how you liked your coffee, but he didn’t even know your name! but it wasn't stalking... right? he was just... interested! preparing for the day he'd actually speak. its meant to be flattering... though he would never follow you home, or attempt to find every single piece of information the internet had to offer about you, of course…

♡ ...not yet at least. (thankfully for you, he held back for the sake of researching his newest death contraption.) ♡ but, while sat at that lonely booth, he allowed himself to completely indulge in you. he couldn’t help but stare, you were just so captivating from across the diner, even under the dim lighting it provided, and the late hours you frequented. he just had to know more about you… maybe after this was all over. ♡ you began consuming every part of his life. even outside the diner he would find his mind slipping to thoughts of you. he was starting to miss you. it frustrated him to no end. the color blue would remind him of that sweater you wore a few days back, and that dog he saw at that animal rescue had awfully cute eyes like yours. he even started associating the scent of coffee to your voice, only furthering his desire for caffeine. 'god edward, keep it together.' he'd think. it all led back to you. ♡ you were distracting him from his plans on wiping this city clean. he should be figuring out how to correctly wire this detonator, not fantasize about how soft your skin would feel on his!! but you also began becoming his newfound reason. he knew you were one of the only few good people left in gotham, maybe the hope this dump needed. he wanted you to live in a safe city, he needed you to thrive. you only deserved the best after all, to have the ground you walked on worshipped... ♡ sat in his usual seat, he would begin leaving riddles or crossword puzzles for you to solve, he would even draw doodles of flowers and hearts, instead of his consistent scribblings about batman and the lies of the government. even if he tried, all the riddles he'd come up with would be about you anyway. ♡ edward couldn’t help but stifle a giddy squeal. it felt like he was a teenager again, passing notes to his crush; writing them on the diner’s napkins and placing them in front of you when you looked away, quickly slipping past your line of sight. they would always have to do something with his love and adoration, how he’d reveal himself to you one day. he made them just for you. he even slowed his handwriting so you could read it better. ♡ for now you were endeared. confused, but endeared, while you looked around the room for the napkin's source. they were cute, simple things that gave you something to do, if you looked past the creepy part. it gave you something to think about and look forward to while you try and distract yourself for a little while. ♡ he wondered if you noticed him like he noticed you. he wanted you to notice him. for the first time in his life he wanted to be seen. just for you, he wanted to be somebody.

“ i am with a lock and you might be my key; when you find me, you feel complete. i’m a rare treasure that brings happiness and joy. what am i? ”

♡ and at times he was frustrated at how oblivious you were, but that didn’t deter him away from you or find you any less intelligent as he thought you were. the day you two would properly meet would eventually come. he idolized you, you were his sunshine in all the gloominess of the city. his one bright light. ♡ he would secretly cheer you on from his seat behind you, marveling at just how smart you are. anticipating the amount of time it would take for you to solve everything he had laid out for you, like a rat in a maze. would it take you five minutes? two? or maybe would you take that little napkin home today? ♡ he loved watching you struggle, your eyebrows knotting together as you looked down at the ink on the page. he could barely contain his giggles as you proudly smiled to yourself as you filled out the words of his puzzles. he was just as proud of you as you were of yourself. he knew you could do it.

“ …a soulmate…? ”

♡ you solved his riddles! how were you not perfect for him?

[greymoonfeelings]

You and Me

pairing: Jake Seresin x fem! reader

word count: 0.7k

note: this is a little blurb I’ve had in my drafts forever and I wanted to get it published. I firmly believe Jake says says “give me some sugar” when he wants a kiss and you will not change my mind.

•••

You let out a huff, swirling the ice cubes in your drink around with the plastic straw. With your head in your hand, you watch as Jake celebrates his latest pool victory with his friends. He wasn’t ignoring you on purpose, but he was so wrapped up in the energy of his friends that he had yet to realize you weren’t feeling the same.

After Coyote slaps him on the back, Jake spins around to face you. He looks over to you expectantly, hoping to see you smiling at him, but instead notices the downturn of your lips as you stare down at your drink. Jake excuses himself from his friends before approaching you.

“What's wrong, darlin?” He slides into the booth beside you, throwing an arm around your slumped shoulders.

“Nothing.” You force a smile, not wanting to ruin his fun with your sour mood. Jake cocks his head to the side giving you a knowing look. There is no use lying to him. He has always been able to see right through you.

You sigh in defeat. “I thought tonight would just be us. I love your friends, but we’re with them so much and I miss spending time alone with you.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” His tone is soft, not accusing.

“I didn’t want to sound needy.” You peer down at your drink again, pretending to be interested in the condensation running down this side so you don’t have to look your boyfriend in the eye.

You’re terrified of Jake suddenly deciding that you’re too high maintenance. Maybe he wants a girlfriend who’s more go-with-the-flow and less clingy. Jake is a boisterous and extroverted person, why would he ever want to be with someone who was the exact opposite?

Jake recognizes that look on your face. The one you make when your order comes out wrong but you eat it anyway because you don’t want to be a bother. The one you wear when someone suddenly starts talking over you because they either didn’t realize you were speaking or they just didn’t care. Jake hates that look, hates that you feel like you’re not good enough to take up space.

“There’s no one else I would rather spend time with than you, darlin’. You can always tell me what you’re feeling, you don’t have to hide from me or feel embarrassed.”

“You’re so good to me, Jake. I’m not used to my feelings being considered.”

“Your feelings deserve to be treated with respect and I love you, I always want you to be comfortable.”

“I love you too.”

“Gimme some sugar.” Jake leans in, his lips searching for yours.

“Not here.” You duck away from him, looking around at the crowded bar.

“No one’s looking. They’re all too focused on themselves. C’mon, I missed you too, darling.” Jake whispers reassuringly as he presses kisses to the side of your face.

You take another quick look around the bar before deciding that he’s right. You lean into Jake’s side and press your glossed lips against his.

When you pull away, Jake licks his lips trying to savor the taste of you. “Mm, cherry. My favorite.”

“You’re not supposed to lick it off, weirdo.” You laugh and give your boyfriend a playful shove.

“Let’s get out of here. There’s a carton of ice cream back home with our names written all over it and I may have finally caved and subscribed to Disney Plus.”

Jake wraps his arm around your waist and tucks you against his side. After saying goodbye to his friends, he leads you out into the parking lot, his body warming you against the cool breeze from the ocean.

The two of you spend the remainder of the night curled up in bed sharing the tub of ice cream while your favorite movie plays. Jake makes sure you know just how much he cherishes his time with you. Being alone with just him refills your energy just the way you were hoping it would and you fall asleep feeling even more in love with your man.

[jishyucks]

Me, You, and the View ‣ lmk

‣ pairing: mark lee x reader

‣ genre: FLUFF, f2l (in a way), 'our friends left us and it's just us left' trope, slice-of-life!au

‣ wc: 5.5k

‣ summary: after being ditched by your entire friend group on an out-of-town trip, you and your (not-so-close) friend Mark are left alone to explore the destination together

‣ warnings?: reader has a fear of heights, mark is very mark in this, he feeds the wildlife some fries

‣ an: something I wrote for no reason, I just found the idea cute,,, also I know those things aren't called gondolas but thts what we call those here where I live,,, anyways some of this stuff is taken straight from Mark's antics in that one 127 hit the states video (you'll know which one it is when you read); anyways thanks to my bestie @hoonieji for reading over my shite again <33 PLS ENJOY AS ALWAYS!

The best word that could describe how you’re currently feeling is appalled.

Appalled because the friends with whom you planned this trip to the Rockies have decided to break off with their own significant others without you. Sure, you were still the supportive friend you always were with their SOs, but you thought that would be later and with a warning at least. Not first thing in the morning.

“I guess it’s just us, then?” 

Mark awkwardly stands at your side, hands stuffed deep into his hoodie. His hood’s falling off of his head as he turns to look at you. He quickly tugs it back up, but you notice that the hood gets tucked behind one ear. 

“Yeah,” you say, “I guess.” 

It’s not like you hated Mark (cause who in the world would hate Mark?)... it was more so that your relationship with said boy wasn’t as tightly knitted as it was with Donghyuck or Renjun. You weren’t sure you had anything in common with Mark, except for the friends you both shared. Other than that, from what you know, your interests were completely different. 

“Or we can just go around alone?” Mark quickly follows up. He laughs awkwardly and kicks at the dirt underneath his sneakers, “Whatever’s fine.”

From the tone in his voice, you can tell he’s slightly upset, “No, it’s fine! I just wasn’t expecting them to just… ditch us like that.” 

Mark laughs and nods. “Me too. Let’s go then?”

“Go where?” You questioned. Mark’s already a few steps in front of you, so you’re brought to jog lightly to catch up, “Have you been here before?” 

He shakes his head, “No, but I want to go up there.” He points at the top of a mountain, “I just know that the view’s going to be breathtaking.” You follow his finger and see a long trail of gondola lifts travelling up to the top. 

“Up there?” You don’t mention your fear of heights. Only because you’re not sure if Mark would make fun of you or not. You guess this is how your mind is conditioned after hanging around Donghyuck too much. 

He nods, eyes sparkling but you don’t notice, “Yeah! That’s what I’ve been looking forward to when Hyuck first mentioned the trip.” 

The smile on his face makes it harder for you to tell him that you’re afraid to go. You both have already been left alone by your friends, and now you don’t have the heart to leave him alone either. That, and the fact that you didn’t want to be alone in this unknown place. 

You’ll just close your eyes the whole way up. 

“It sounds fun,” you say, gulping, “Let’s go then.”

You and Mark reach the ticket booth, paying for a round-trip ticket before lining up at the bottom of the mountain. You’re surprised to see that the lines weren’t as long as your parents had warned you about, probably since it’s still early morning, so you and Mark reach the front of the line within five minutes. 

“Have you read the safety guidelines?” The worker points to a board standing a few yards away from him. You and Mark both reply with a simple ‘yes’ before slipping the man the first half of the ticket. He lets you through, reminding you to watch your step when getting onto the gondola. 

“I’m excited~” Mark comments, plopping down on the seat on the side that would consider him going forwards for the trip. You sit the opposite of him and laugh nervously. You immediately grip the edge of the seat as the door of the cart closes. 

“Me too.” You hope Mark doesn’t read through your expression, or hear the slight waver in your voice when you did speak. You’re lucky to see that his attention’s already diverted to the shrinking trees and people waiting for their turn to go on. Although there’s a comfortable silence that settles on top of both of you, you still feel like you both should still be saying something to fill that silence. You’re just not sure what. You leave it be.

The gondola was travelling faster than it looked from the ground, not to mention the fact that it swayed in the slightest every time it reached a connecting pole. You gulp and train your eyes on your shoes, praying that your eyes won’t do as little as flicker to the view outside of the gondola. If you were hooked up to those heart rate monitors at the hospital, you’d be admitted for how fast your heart was beating. You could feel it pounding against your chest. 

“Look at those mountains over there!” Mark finally speaks up. You’re compelled to look, but you know that if you did, you’d probably pass out from how high you were—not that you knew how high you and Mark currently were… it just felt high. 

“They look… cool,” you comment without moving your head. You trace your laces with your eyes, while your grip around the edge of the seat grew tighter (if that was even possible). 

“Oh c’mon, you didn’t even look,” Mark says lightheartedly. It doesn’t take him long to realize what’s happening, eyes reading your body language like a book. At first, he hesitates to speak up, not knowing if he’ll come off as weird if he does reach out, but there’s something in him that pushes him to do so, “Do you want to sit next to me?” 

You gulp again, eyes quickly moving to Mark and then back to your feet. Were you being that obvious?

“It’s better on this side,” he says, “You don’t notice how far we’ve gone.” 

Your heart warms slightly at the fact that Mark doesn’t even question you, nor does he joke about the distance between you and the ground. Instead, he simply just acts on handing over the comfort you’ve been needing ever since you stepped onto this damn lift. “Can I?” You say quietly, bringing your legs closer underneath you. 

Mark nods, then he realizes you couldn’t actually see him nod, “Of course, you can.” 

“O-okay,” you take a deep breath and reach out for the seat in front of you. It’s further than you initially thought it was, so you feel that you look rather ridiculous reaching out for nothing. 

And that’s when you feel hands grabbing yours. 

“Okay, take your time to stand up,” he says softly, “I’ll pull you to my side so you don’t need to look up.” For the second time today, Mark Lee makes your stomach twist in an unusual way. 

Or was it just because you were practically hundreds of feet off ground?

You finally build the courage to stand up. Mark waits for your cue to tug gently at your arms, guiding you to the now-empty seat next to him. 

There’s a sense of relief when you finally plop down beside Mark, your neck thanking you for finally extending it after what felt like hours of looking down. Mark was right when he said that you wouldn’t be able to tell how far off the ground you both were. He was also right about how pretty the mountains were. 

“Thanks,” you sighed quietly, “I felt like I was going to shit myself.” 

Mark laughs and offers a kind grin, “It’s nothing. Why didn’t you say anything before we got on?”

You echo his laugh and shrug, “You looked too happy and I didn’t want to say no.” Mark feels himself smile at your reply, letting it hang in the air before it dissolves with no problem. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have forced you to go if he knew you had a fear of heights, but he was glad he was there to give you a sense of comfort in this situation. 

The rest of the ride up to the top of the mountain, you train your eyes at what you believe was the end of the trip up. There was a large roofed area that attempted to hide the large gears turning the entire cable line. Just beneath them, you could see ant-sized humans getting off and on the gondolas. You couldn’t help but feel relief bloom in your chest. 

“I’m excited!” Mark says from beside you. He jumps a bit in his seat, kicking his legs up like a young child, “I can’t wait to go sightseeing up there.” 

The gondola’s brought closer and closer to the end by the second, and before you know it, you and Mark are hopping off of the cart with heavy huffs. You’re ecstatic to feel the ground beneath your feet. And although you’re metres and metres above sea level, ground is ground and you’ll accept anything solid and concrete.

“The air’s very…” you hear Mark take in a big fat whiff of air, “Clear.” The astonishment in his voice makes you giggle. 

You give him a look, “Isn’t all air clear?” You both begin to walk out of the roofed area and out to where many other tourists were. People were walking back and forth, some walking up man-made stairs to reach one of the highest points of the mountain. 

“Yes, but you know what I mean,” he waves his hand to dismiss the comment he’s made, stuffing his hands into his pockets when a breeze blows past you both, “Are you okay making our way up?” 

You nod, “As long as we’re not hanging above ground then I’m fine.” Mark takes this as a green light to start walking up the steps, letting you go first and following closely after. 

“When we get up there, I want to take pictures,” Mark says from behind you. You can tell he’s out of breath, but you don’t blame him because you’ve been going up stairs for a good five minutes. 

Just under ten minutes, you and Mark finally reach the last step and onto a divided platform at a high point of the mountain. There weren't as many people as you thought there’d be, probably because the top wasn’t the easiest to reach. 

Just as earlier, you take in the scene happening in front of you. People were leaning against the railings with big smiles as someone took pictures of them, others stood and just stared off at the view, which you still had yet to see. There were a few families taking breaks at the picnic tables set up in a gathering area in the middle and dogs doing the same next to them. 

This itself was already nice to see, you think. Now it was time for the actual view that you and Mark had travelled all the way up here for. It better be worth the fear. 

Mark takes the lead again, gesturing for you to follow him up to an empty portion of the railing. His hands were still stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, the air up being cooler than it was at the bottom of the mountain. You can faintly see the huffs of air coming out of your and Mark’s mouths, but the temperature was bearable. Besides, by the end of the trip up, you’ll probably be sweating your ass off.

Once Mark reaches the railings, you hear him gasp before turning to you, urging you to hurry up just a bit. And when it was your turn to get to the rail, you know exactly why Mark’s gasp was not exaggerated. 

It was breathtaking. And you suppose that it quite literally sucked the air out of Mark. There was no way to describe the sight except for the fact that it looked like it was pulled straight from a painting. The winding river, narrowed as it reached the end of the vast horizon, the layers of mountains getting lighter the further they got, and the trees presenting shades of autumn that all looked fabricated. It was all too beautiful to be real. There was no way it wasn’t just some abnormally enlarged picture. But the movement of the water stream and the slight swaying of the trees prove you wrong.

“I just….” Mark starts, “Want to sit here forever.” He crosses his arms and rests them on top of the metal fence. Then he brings his head down to sit on top of his arms. He’s bent down in a seemingly uncomfortable way, but by the way, his face relaxes, you know he isn’t. 

“It’s definitely so refreshing to see compared to buildings and concrete and almost no trees back home,” you comment before mirroring the way he’s posed. 

“You’re right,” he agrees. Mark stands up straight and pulls his phone from his pocket, “Do you want pictures?” He doesn’t even wait for your answer to pull up the camera, standing back just far enough so that you could still see the view behind you. 

“Yes please.” You turn your back to him and tell him you want one like that first before actually facing the camera. 

Mark holds a thumb up before holding the camera steady to let you know that everything was fine. Your pose, the camera’s position, the view in the back, they were all fine. 

There was no problem at all, everything was completely fine. 

At least that’s what Mark believes before he finds himself frozen as he stares at your silhouette through his phone. At the back of his mind, he deeply questions why he’s only like this now, when he's had so many other opportunities to actually look at you. 

So, why now?

He has no idea why. 

“One… one…” he drags on, finger wavering over the white button on the screen. 

“Are you okay?” You turn to look at him and Mark sees this through his phone’s screen. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, “I just zoned out there for a second.” Mark watches you get back into position and he quickly snaps a few pictures. Once he believes he’s gotten good shots of you, he hands you his phone, “Can I get some too?”

Without another word, you grab his phone and take pictures of Mark in front of the pretty view. He pulls the most ridiculous poses, but you find it endearing. You grin and pull the phone back to look at the photos. “Send me these?”

“I will when we get back to the hotel,” he nods. You hand him his phone and the both of you take in the view one more time before leaving for another part of the peak. As you and Mark make your way to different points of the peak, you begin to learn that there will simply be no bad sights to see. The surrounding forest area all held its own special view and with each part you encounter, you and Mark take pictures with the desire to capture the moment as it was. 

It was nice, actually. 

You started the day thinking it wouldn’t reach the expectations you set yourself when you all planned this trip. But you stand corrected when you’re actually enjoying Mark’s company. Thinking about it, it would’ve been a mess with everyone here. At least with Mark, there’s a good balance between pictures, relaxation, and simply joking around. You shouldn’t have judged the day so quickly. 

“I’m hungry,” Mark announces, “Do you want to find something to eat up here?” 

“What, like acorns or something?” you joke. There was almost nothing but nature, but you do recall seeing a building located a walk’s length from the departure zone of the gondolas. 

Mark laughs, shaking his head, “I’m not in the mood for nuts right now. I was thinking ‘bout that building over there.” He points to the same building you were thinking about.

“Sure,” you nod, “I’m pretty thirsty, too.”

After grabbing replenishments, you and Mark decide that it was warm enough to sit outside on one of the empty benches. You’re lucky to even have grabbed one considering there were more people sightseeing. 

“I wonder what the others are doing.” You take the biggest gulp of water and then eat the food you settled on. There had been no texts or phone calls from your friends, nor did they let you know where they were going. 

Mark shrugs and munches on his own food, “I don’t know, but I bet they’re not having as much fun as us.” His shoulders touch yours slightly as he swings his feet underneath him. You didn’t even notice how close he was sitting to you. The contact tickles your shoulder. 

You laugh and joke, “You’re right. I bet you they’re walking in mud right now. Karma for ditching us.” At the corner of your eye, movement catches your attention and you immediately go to look at it. A yelp leaves your lips as you come face to face with a ground squirrel, curiosity getting the best of it as it approaches you and Mark. “Shit, that scared me!”

Mark gasps and starts making noises to attract it. “It’s so cute!” He pulls out a French fry from his meal and stands up to face it, waddling back and forth and mirroring the direction the squirrel was moving, “Hey there!” Then he proceeds to make noises that you believe aren’t even squirrel noises. 

This is too cute. You hastily fish your phone out from your pocket and pull up the camera app, recording as much of the interaction as you can. 

Mark goes on for an embarrassingly long amount of time before he finally squats down to the animal and looks back at you, “You think it likes fries?”

“Mark, I don’t think we should feed wildlife,” you say seriously, but you’re laughing, only because Mark’s being adorable and you can’t handle it. His eyes give off the same look a kid would have after discovering something exciting. Who would have thought a ground squirrel would have this much of an effect on a grown man?

“Just one won’t hurt, right?” Mark questions. He sticks his hand out and waits for the squirrel to take it, “I feel bad. It looks hungry.” The ground squirrel snatches it out of Mark’s fingers, acquiring the fried potato strip before jetting off. 

“Man, it just wanted food.” Mark’s sulky. He stands up and turns to you, “I should’ve kno–“ He cuts himself off before his eyes widen. 

“Mark, are you good?” 

The boy bursts out into laughter, hand clutching his stomach. 

“Mark?” You’re utterly confused, almost feeling left out despite it only being between him and you. 

He reaches for your shoulders and turns you to look behind you, “Look!”

You let him turn you and you see why he’s laughing. On a big, white board that’s stuck strategically in the dirt, was a sign that states DO NOT FEED WILDLIFE. 

By the time you and Mark have explored a majority of the landmark, you’re both stumbling back and forth from the soreness of your feet. It’s funny because as you’re watching Mark walk, you can see that he can barely even pick his feet up, the back of his sneakers dragging roughly against the gravel. You’re knees feel like buckling from how tired they were from the semi-hiking you’ve been doing the entire day. 

“Let’s rest,” you say. It wasn’t even a suggestion or a question. If you kept walking, you felt like your legs were going to betray you and you’ll be tumbling down the stairs. 

“I was waiting for you to say,” Mark huffed, hand to the chest. He points to an empty bench right by a sightseeing telescope.

You give him a look, “Why didn’t you just say? What if I never said anything?”

He shrugs and plops down onto the bench, “I didn’t want to hold you back from exploring.” 

“And if something happens to you, then what?” your eyes narrow, but the tone in your voice is light. You take the empty spot next to him and slump down so that your head is able to rest against the bench’s backrest. You extend your legs forward and close your eyes. 

“Then you’d have to carry me down this mountain,” Mark replies wittily. 

You think about it as if he were being serious, “Okay, then I’ll be charging by the hour.” 

Mark laughs and notices that you have your eyes closed, “If you want to nap for a bit, you can go ahead. I’ll keep watch.” 

You smile softly and thank him. Oddly enough, you never saw Mark as a thoughtful guy. Sure, you knew he was a good guy, but it was just worth pointing out that he has genuinely good intent behind everything he says or does.

When you hear Mark stop kicking his feet against the gravel, you can’t help but take a peek to see what he’s up to. 

You open one eye and turn your head in his direction, but you’re only met with Mark staring down at his phone. His fingers fly across the screen for a good minute. You wonder who he’s texting. 

“Is it one of the others?”

Mark jumps slightly at your voice, head darting towards your direction, “Huh?”

“Whoever you’re texting.”

“Oh, I’m not texting any of them,” Mark says sheepishly. He hesitates for a moment before opting to turn his phone to you, showing you whatever he’s doing. The notes app stares back at you and there are words written in verses. 

“You write?” 

He nods, “Well, sorta… just random stuff. It’s how I like to express myself… Do you want to read it?” You realize how special this probably was to him. He’s sharing with you things he’s written that reflect his own emotions. 

“I’d love to.” You sit up as he hands you his phone. 

Then you read it:

“Winding rivers predictably change unpredictably;

Leaves turn hues that contrast the

Weather is ever-changing but foretold;

Time remains constant, but

no knowledge of what the future will bring;”

“I-it’s still a work in progress and I don’t know what direction I’m headed but—”

“So, living in the now is what’s important,” you say, “At least that’s how I interpret it.”

Mark blinks at you in astonishment. No one he’s shown his written verses to has ever tried to comprehend it, nor did they even appreciate it (besides his English professor, obviously). So when you actually take your time to read it, understand it, and offer your own meaning behind his words, he can’t help but feel his heart skip a beat just for you. 

“That’s—”

Mark’s phone rings, interrupting him mid-sentence. 

“Oh, it’s Donghyuck.” He quickly answers it and brings the phone up to his ear, excusing himself.

The two of them have a short conversation with the usual back and forth. Then it dies down after a couple of minutes. “Maybe fifteen minutes? Give or take,” Mark estimates, “But you guys can start thinking before we get there… yeah… okay sounds good I think… see you!”

“What’d he say?” You ask, standing to the side of Mark.

“That they want to meet up for dinner,” Mark says, “He says they’re where we were this morning.” Mark stuffs his phone into his pocket and claps his hands together. He brings himself to stand at the railing, breathing it all in. “Goodbye, view.”

You laugh to yourself at Mark and you play along, “We’ll miss you!” It’s funny because you guys are going to be here for another day. It’s a high possibility you’ll be back tomorrow, even if it were for a short while. 

Mark looks over at you and smiles, “Let’s not keep the others waiting.” 

Although you let Mark lead the way, he still ends up slowing his pace to walk next to you. He’s telling you that it would be better if you sat in the same spot as you did this morning on the gondola, “And I’ll cover your eyes if you get scared.” 

You glare at him playfully and furrow your brows, “I can close my own eyes, you know.” 

Mark laughs, rolling his eyes, “Yeah but I don’t know, it’s my duty or something since I’m on there with you.” You freeze for a moment, causing the guy to walk a few steps ahead of you. Was he just flirting with you or was it Mark just being… Mark? Mark has always been the type to say things that surfaced from his thoughts. 

You shake your head and jog to keep up with him, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t think I’ll freak out this time anyways. It’s just good knowing you’re there just in case, though.” Nudging him playfully, you send him a small smile of reassurance. 

“I’m honoured,” Mark gasps, “But I’m serious, if you feel scared anytime during the ride down, just tell me.” 

“I will.”

°•. ✿ .•°

Your eyes are close to shutting when you feel a rough tug at your duvet. 

“What do you want, Yeri,” you groan, throwing your body around to face her. The lamp on her side of the two-bed room is still turned on and you can’t help but feel blinded when you accidentally look straight at it. Yeri’s wearing a face mask that makes her look like a ghost. You can’t even recall when she even stood up to put it on, nor did you hear her unwrap one. 

“Are you mad at me?” She attempts to pout but the mask stops her from any sort of facial expression, “I promise you we didn’t plan to ditch you but–”

“I’m not mad, I’m just tired,” you sit up, clearly understanding that Yeri wants to have a conversation. The sleeve of your oversized shirt falls off one shoulder and you quickly pull it back up. Then, you lean forward towards your own lap and flick it on. 

“Okay good!” Yeri exclaims, “Because I have a question that I’ve been meaning to ask you ever since dinner ended but Mark was with us.” Although your best friend still can’t pull the usual expressions she usually makes, you can tell which one she’s pulled off her rack just by the look in her eyes.

Your brow quirks at the mention of Mark, “Why would it matter if Mark was there or not?” 

“I wanted to ask you how it went with him.” Yeri grins slightly through her mask, eyes blinking like in those cartoons. She pulls her legs up and crosses them, bouncing on her bed. 

“What do you even mean?”

“You and Mark were alone,” she points out, “When was the last time he and you were alone? Never. You guys would look cute together, you know?” 

You look at her like she was crazy, knowing exactly what she was implying (though she wasn’t even trying to be subtle), but you try your best to ignore it, “To be honest it was actually fun.” And you’re not lying. You tell Yeri everything, telling her about the trip up to the mountains, the picture-taking, seeing ground squirrels, the trip down—everything. By the looks on Yeri’s face, you can tell she’s overanalyzing everything (exactly how a best friend would). 

“If you say anything about Mark and feelings, I will actually kick you right now,” you show her your foot, “I don’t like Mark like that.” You think about what you said in your head. You’re almost completely sure you don’t have any underlying feelings for Mark, but after today, you can’t help but think about the possibility. In childish terms, it wasn’t gross actually having feelings for Mark, it was just odd because you never would think you’d have these feelings, especially since you both weren’t considered close among your friend group. But after your day with him and seeing what it was like being with him, you wouldn’t oppose any feelings if they did come up. 

Yeri gives you a look that involved her having to tilt one side of her face closer to you. She looked like that Megamind ‘no bitches’ meme. You raise your foot in threat, “Yeri, don’t look at me like that.” 

“I’m just making sure,” she shrugs, backing up. 

There’s a knock at the door before you’re even able to reply. You can already guess it’s one of the others. There was no way an employee would willingly serve guests at this ungodly hour. Being closer to the door, an unspoken rule brings you up to your feet to open it, leaving Yeri at her bed (she doesn’t complain). 

You look through the peephole and see Donghyuck standing there, Mark trying to drag the younger boy back to their own room. You can see Mark saying something in panic but Hyuck’s choosing to ignore him, eyes staring intently at the door. You open it. 

“Go sleep, guys.” 

“Oh, great! Y/N, you answered it,” Donghyuck exclaims. Mark’s now attempting to put him in a chokehold, roughly pulling him back. Donghyuck doesn’t budge. It seems that he has superhuman strength whenever he chooses. 

“Huh? What do yo—”

“What did you do to him?” Donghyuck grabs Mark by the wrist and points to him. You’re not even sure why you’re not laughing at this point. Donghyuck looks dead serious and Mark looks like he’s going to explode out of stress. It was probably the curiosity keeping you from bursting. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You broke him,” Donghyuck replies as if it still made sense. Fortunately, he keeps going without question, “I was trying to talk to him, but he wasn’t even listening. You know why? He was staring at his phone like this.” Donghyuck freezes and pretends to gawk at his phone. At this point, Mark’s trying to cover his mouth. 

“And why am I to blame?”

When Mark realizes what’s about to be said, he stops restraining Donghyuck and retreats back down the direction of their room. In another universe, his feet would leave tracks of fire. 

Donghyuck’s posture sags and he groans, “The picture was of you!” 

You freeze. “Me?” 

“Her!?” Yeri gasps running to the door, “Mark come back here!” 

You look down the hall and Mark’s frozen as if you were all playing a game of red light, green light. There was no way he was going to turn back. He was scared to move. But he knew he was done for. 

Meanwhile, your heart’s beating out of your chest because this was news to you. You’re not sure how to react.

“Mark Lee!” Yeri calls. You feel bad for the other guests in the other rooms because the four of you are disrupting the hell out of their sleep. You wonder if the others can hear this going down, “Come back here, or I’m telling auntie you scratched her car!”

Mark’s back at Donghyuck’s side in an instant, but he’s avoiding all possible eye contact with you. Donghyuck’s just laughing at him, bringing his cheeks between his thumb and his index finger. 

“Care to explain?” Yeri pushes on, eyes burning holes through Mark’s face. At the back of her mind, she knows that her mask is long overdue, but she doesn’t care about that right now. She wants to know what’s up with Mr. Lee. 

“Youlookedreallyprettyinthepicture,” Mark mumbles, eyes glued to the old hotel carpet. 

Donghyuck and Yeri, who seemed more invested in this than you were, looked at him and threw him a slap, “Speak clearly!” 

“I… um…” Mark’s eyes flicker to his best friend and to you, and then to Yeri, and then back to you before settling to its home staring at the carpet, “Can I talk to Y/N alone?”

Yeri immediately drags Donghyuck into the room, pushing you out in the process. Then, before you know it, the door is shut and you’re alone with Mark in this quiet hallway. 

“I wanted to say how I really enjoyed today,” he says quietly. Mark can feel his chest heat up, cheeks following not long after, “And… I was staring at the picture because you looked… really pretty in it.” Mark feels like bolting off, but the deed was halfway done. That, and his feet feel like they’ve been anchored to the floor underneath him. 

“Wow… umm, thank you?” you gulp, “But I enjoyed today, too. So much that I was actually a bit bummed when we had to leave…” 

Mark’s confidence level rises just a little bit, hearing that you were somehow reciprocating all of this, “When… when we get back home, do you want to go on a… date with me?”

“A date?”

“I-I mean it can be a friendly date if you want, or a date-date if that’s what you want too,” Mark rambles, “I’m okay with what you want. But my question was about a date…date.”

“Ya! Mark Lee! At least make this bearable to watch!” you hear Donghyuck through the door. 

“Y/N answer him already, my neck is hurting!” Yeri calls after. 

You quickly shoot a glare at the peephole and turn back to Mark, who is now a crimson shade of red, “I would love to go on a date with you, actually. A date-date.” 

Mark’s eyes light up at your response, “Really?”

“Yes really.”

Behind the door, you hear Donghyuck and Yeri cheer, followed by slaps that you could guess were a bunch of high-fives. 

They were just as ecstatic as Mark was.

Why?

Because Operation: Mountain Trip was a success. 

[cagesofgold]

eren jaeger headcanons <3

🎵teenage fever - Drake 🎧

His favorite way to unwind is to play with your hair. Due to having longer hair himself he’s grown accustomed to the different skill sets required to craft different hair styles, and actually, is really good at it. His fingers are lithe and nimble and are able to weave through strands with ease.

He drives an all black car with tinted windows, and has a polaroid of you in a photo booth with him on your first date in a plastic case hanging from his rear view mirror.

he also always makes sure to keep your favorite snacks in the car, as he’s a guy who’s bound to text you at 2am asking bout some “you up for a drive?” 💀

in terms of tattoos despite popular belief, i personally think he’d keep it on the minimal side. He’d maybe have some on his arms - or a sleeve, but he likes to keep them tidy. Although, he is one of those guys that would have that tiktok thirst trap spider on his chest or adjacent to his v line…..

this mf smells gooooood, he’s so paranoid about smelling bad because of Jean saying he smelt like a burning pile of bodies in high school and hasn’t been able to shake the fear since.

despite not being overly adorned in tattoos he does like piercings. He’s got about five on his ears and has a nose piercing but he always forgets about it.

loves reality shows. A few months into your relationship he noticed you watching them and acted with his full chest that he had no interest, yet as the weeks rolled by he somehow got closer and closer to the couch and before you knew it he was fully shouting over Lisa Rinna. (You’ve also seen him following over 30 housewives from the different shows on instagram…)

cannot stand metal music because he spent his entire childhood covering his ears from where it bled from under Mikasa’s door. (Otherwise he’d probably enjoy it)

he’d dress quite simply, mainly with blacks and whites and would sometimes mix and match with some red or green, but i don’t think he’s as ambitious as some of his friends fashion wise, but he still looks good as hell.

his favorite holiday is with out a doubt halloween, is some of this because he spent so long as a child building the most elaborate scares for the kids on his street? maybe. but he also likes autumn as a season so that has something to do with it.

doesn’t get along with his dad too well but is a total mamas boy. He visits her at least twice a month considering they live in different cities.

is a cat person, but when he was younger he liked dogs more as according to him they were “much radder” - his own words 💀, but as he got older and became more subdued he developed a preference for cats.

has anxiety that he manages to hide, he wasn’t used to being comforted and it took a while for him to fully open up to you.

despite smoking weed with Jean and connie almost every other day he still makes a dramatic scene any time Zeke lights a cigarette around him, i’m talking coughing and clutching his chest, Zeke’s standing there like this 🧍‍♀️waiting for him to stop his fucking shenanigans.

if you want to go out with Eren Jaeger prepare to be a victim of the sassy man apocalypse, because my god, this man is relentless, and the SIDE EYE on this mf is ridiculous. He could knock down an army with his sass alone.

takes good care of his hair, oils it twice a week and does hair masks in order to keep it soft and shiny. He can’t have his gorgeous girl going out with some guy with brittle, greasy ass hair…

goes to the gym but doesn’t like it very much. he goes most days for at least an hour but never posts gym pics on his instagram or anything, he just has no interest apart from maintaining his body.

cannot sleep without you. he can try, sure, but he’ll never be successful. Before you both decided to move in together he was at your house every night, nuzzled against your body with light breaths slipping from his lips, which sparked the conversation, why not just move in, you’re here everyday anyway?

tends to bottle things up, and if something is bothering him you will have to work it out of him slowly…but he’s trying, for you he’s trying.

his lock screen is a photo of you asleep against his chest, he just thought you looked so peaceful.

gets embarrassingly competitive in just dance, threw a Wii at Connie once because he made him lose a perfect score on timber.

finally, he loves stargazing, especially with you. He’ll take you out to a deserted street, a bag full of snacks and a joint as you both lay on the hood of his car, chatting about whatever comes to mind, and it’s at those moments, when his eyes focus on the slope of your nose and the shape of your mouth, that he feels a warmth inside him he’s never felt before. <3

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [8] - Begonias

A.N: Thank you so much for your amazing feedback and support my loves!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Impatience can be dangerous. 

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms.

Word Count: 4200

Series Masterlist

The following week after that conversation at the rooftop was actual torment for you.

You had tried everything to divert your attention elsewhere, but for the first time in your life, nothing seemed to work. Even while tending to your garden, that night refused to leave your mind, as if your mind had sworn to make you remember it over and over again.

If your sister were here she would’ve said you were heartbroken, but even the thought was absurd.

You weren’t the type of person who got heartbroken.

Even if you were -which you weren’t- one simple glance at Lady Whistledown’s lines throughout the week would be enough to snap you out of it. You had managed to avoid balls, pretending you were still in a delicate condition after the heat exhaustion incident, but Benedict on the other hand had been quite busy as far as you could tell. Day after day, Lady Whistledown wrote how he only stayed at the balls he attended for less than an hour and spent the rest of the nights somewhere else, returning home only around dawn, looking quite disheveled. It had to have been bad because the latest Whistledown issue had mentioned his brother Anthony pulling him aside just when he was about to leave the last ball for a short argument which he had walked away from.

Anyway. It wasn’t like you were interested in his whereabouts.

“My lady, are you sure…?” the cook trailed off while Teddy giggled happily, sitting on the counter and covered in flour from head to toe, and you winked at him before turning to the cook.

“You have no reason to worry Mrs. Booth,” you said. “We will not burn the house down.”

Mrs. Booth did not look relieved at all, but she chose not to comment on it and instead walked over to the other side of the kitchen to check on the soup for tonight’s dinner. You turned to Teddy and put your hands on your hips, sticking your nose up in the air.

“Now,” you said. “Are you ready for this incredibly important task?”

“I am!” Teddy said, dangling his legs off the counter, excitement almost radiating off of him. You tilted your head.

“Are you sure? It’s quite the responsibility, you know.”

“Yes!” he said, jumping in his spot and you pointed at the other side of the counter.

“Over there,” you said. “We have our cookie dough. And of course we must have a theme for our cookies, it goes without saying.”

“Of course!”

“You are to decide what our theme will be and help me shape them.”

Teddy had such a concentrated look on his face that one simple observer would think he was to decide the fate of the country and you repressed a laugh, waiting for him to decide. He held his breath as the idea hit him, his whole face lighting up.

“A garden!” he said. “With people in it!”

You gasped. “That’s such a perfect idea Teddy!”

“And—and—” he said, flailing his arms. “We will have trees and flowers and people—you can shape the flowers and I can shape the trees and people!”

“That sounds like a good deal,” you said as you grabbed the cookie dough and gave him the half of it before you took a small amount of it out of your half, and started making a small flower. Teddy was humming a song to himself, his tongue sticking out, his whole concentration on the stick figure he was making from the cookie dough and you leaned over to press a kiss into his hair, making him let out a whine.

“Y/N I love you too but I’m working!” he said in a serious manner and you let out a laugh, then held up your hands, gesturing surrender.

“Alright, alright. Sorry.”

“You can kiss me afterwards, not now though. This is very important.”

“Got it,” you said, still smiling as you got back to making flowers from the cookie dough and he stole a look at you, then shifted in his spot.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“What does propose mean?”

Your head shot up from the dough. “Hm?”

“I heard auntie and uncle talking about a lord wanting to propose to you.”

You cleared your throat and put aside the flower to start on another one.

“Propose means someone asks someone to marry them.”

Teddy held his breath, shaking his head fervently. “But you’re not going to marry someone are you?” he asked. “You can’t!”

You pulled your brows together. “Why not?”

“Because then you’d leave!” Teddy said, tears already rushing to his eyes and you heaved a sigh, then wrapped your arms around him to pull him into a hug.

“I’d never leave you,” you said, placing a kiss on top of his head. “I promise. Even if I married someone, which I will not anytime soon.”

“But people leave when they marry.”

You frowned, pulling back to look at him better. “Who told you that?”

“No one,” he mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. “But Josie isn’t here and she’s married. You always say she is our sister but I don’t even remember her.”

You could swear your chest was hurting but you managed to smile at him.

“Teddy, Josie isn’t here because she had to leave,” you said with a sigh. “One day I will tell you why, alright? But for now, the only thing you need to know is that she loves you and misses you so much. I read you her letters, she always asks about you, remember?”

Teddy nodded, still pouting.

“But you won’t marry anyone?”

“Not anytime soon,” you said. “And regardless of whether I get married or not, I will never leave you. I swear to you.”

He lifted his head and gave you a big smile, then hugged you tight and pulled back.

“Do you think this cookie man looks nice?” he asked, holding up the cookie and you smiled, then nodded your head.

“Yeah,” you said. “It looks perfect.”

                                               *

One of the many bad things about being a debutante was that there were only so many balls you could avoid. Seeing that you would have to attend one eventually, you figured you could do it tonight and get it over with.

Besides, according to Lady Whistledown Benedict barely spent any time at the balls nowadays so you were going to be just fine.

“So how did Lord Shaw take it?” you asked your aunt as you stepped out of the carriage when it stopped by the garden, the music of the ballroom reaching there already. Your aunt linked her arm with yours and you both started walking through the garden.

“Well, apparently he was quite sad about it,” she said. “Your uncle was very clear though, he said you two would not make a suitable couple in matrimony.”

You squeezed her hand in yours while you two climbed the marble stairs. “Thank you.”

“Of course!” she said. “I know you cannot stand him.”

“It’s not that,” you muttered. “It’s just… He does not fit my criteria.”

Your aunt hummed. “Are you sure it’s not also because you have affections for someone else?”

“I don’t have any affections for anyone,” you said way too fast and your aunt stopped when you two reached the entrance of the ballroom.

“Whatever you say Clover,” she said. “Just promise me something?”

“Of course.”

“Try to have fun,” she said and you heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I’ll try.”

“Good,” she said. “Now, I can see Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

She made her way to them and you nodded at them with a small smile, then turned your head when you heard your name being called.

Oh God damn it.

Benedict looked as frozen as you were unlike Charlotte who seemed incredibly cheerful as usual, waving at you. You swallowed thickly and looked around, considering leaving the ballroom for a second but you knew you couldn’t do that to Charlotte, so you made your way to them.

“Good evening,” you said curtly, making sure to keep your gaze only on Charlotte who squealed, rocking on the balls of her feet.

“Oh finally you’re here!” she said. “I was beginning to think you were going to avoid balls forever.”

“I’m not that lucky, it seems.”

“Benedict was just asking about y—” she stopped talking as Benedict elbowed her and she rolled her eyes while Benedict cleared his throat.

“Miss Y/N.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” you greeted him back and Charlotte looked between you two, then put her hands on her hips.

“Well,” she said. “Anthony looks annoyed yet again, so I’d better go and ask what that is about.”

“What?” Benedict asked as your eyes widened and Charlotte shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m curious about the reason so I must go.”

“Lottie—”

“Charlie—”

“No to both of you, I will see you later!” Charlotte said and walked away from you in a haste, making you shake your head.

“Not very subtle, that one.”

“She has many strong suits, subtlety has never been one,” Benedict commented and took a deep breath, then shot you a crooked grin. “Hello again.”

You raised your brows. “You know we don’t have to do that, right?”

“Do what?”

“Have a conversation,” you said and he took a deep breath.

“I was actually hoping for it.”

“You were hoping for—Jesus Christ, no,” you were distracted mid-sentence as soon as you saw Lord Shaw’s eyes stopping on you, and he fixed his waistcoat before he started to approach you.

“No to having a conversation?”

“No to the universe having a grudge against me for some reason,” you said through your teeth and Benedict followed your line of sight, then turned to you and offered you his hand.

“A dance, my lady?”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s a ballroom,” he said as the music started. “People tend to dance at balls, in case it has escaped your notice.”

You stole a look at Lord Shaw coming closer and let out a breath, then placed your hand in his.

It was like a lightning. As soon as your skin touched his, you could swear sparks ran through you, that familiar warmth engulfing your hand and judging by how his hand twitched over yours, you could tell he felt the same. He hesitated for a moment, letting out a breath, then led you to the dancefloor with the other couples. For a moment you feared everyone else in the ballroom could hear your heartbeat because of how deafening it was in your ears as soon as he had put his hand on the small of your back, but you tried to repress the excitement and took a step towards him as the dance required.

“I appreciate your help,” you said after a moment and he smiled softly.

“I was going to ask you for a dance anyway,” he said, his smile widening at the apparent confusion on your face. “So, did Lord Shaw bore you that much?”

You rolled your eyes. “Worse.”

“Worse?”

“He proposed.”

Benedict’s whole body froze mid-dance and you shot him a warning glare, raising his hand above your head to twirl yourself as if he was the one still leading.

“Did they not teach you how to dance? Or can you only put up a decent performance in bed—”

“What did you answer?” he cut you off and you scoffed.

“I said no, obviously,” you said. “I told you. He does not fit my criteria.”

His eyes flickered over your face. “Y/N…”

“That was not an invitation to talk of that now,” you said. “It has been a nice evening so far, I don’t wish to ruin it.”

“But we must talk of it.”

“Not really,” you said, those sparks hitting you with their full force when his fingertips brushed over your wrist. “What did you want to have a conversation about earlier?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “The rooftop.”

Your breath got caught in your throat and you stole a look at him before averting your gaze to the other dancing couples.

“I don’t think that we should.”

“Y/N.”

“We can just pretend it did not take place,” you managed to say and he let out a dry chuckle.

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Your throat tightened as you let him lead the dance, barely aware of your own movements as if you were in a haze. You knew there were couples all around you but somehow it felt like you two were the only people in that ballroom, like he was the one person whose presence mattered.

Especially when he was looking at you like that.

“Talking of it will not change a thing,” you forced yourself to say. “I told you; you mustn’t even think of it. I will break your heart terribly—”

“Alright.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him.

“What?” you asked, “What do you mean, alright?”

He pulled you closer the moment the note of the music changed, signaling the slow end of the tune and he grabbed you by the waist to lift you up as the dance required, taking your breath away. You grasped at his broad shoulders, your heart leaping to your throat and he gently put you down, your hands still on his shoulders. His pleasant scent filled your lungs and you swallowed thickly, your eyes still locked in his.

“You said you would torment me,” he said, his voice low as the music came to a stop. “So be it. Torment me if you wish to.”

He bowed his head and walked away from you, leaving you there completely dumbfounded. It felt as if the whole room was spinning as you watched him walk out of the ballroom -probably to the garden- and you looked around to see whether your aunt would notice your absence, but she was nowhere to be found, neither were any of her friends. You licked your lips, then walked out of the ballroom as well, the cool air hitting your burning face as soon as you stepped outside. You pressed the back of your hands on your cheeks and checked whether anyone was around, but it seemed safe enough.

It was considerably a small garden, at least not as big as the last ball’s so it took you only five minutes to find him. He was at the far end of the garden, leaning back to the wall of the gazebo, exhaling the smoke of the cigarette in his hand into air. Your heart skipped a beat but you refused to let it intimidate you, so instead you passed by the begonias and stomped over to him, your brows pulled into a frown.

“Are you insane?” you asked, making him turn his head and he pushed himself off the wall.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why would you say such a thing?” you insisted. “You long for heartbreak, is that it? You could not find a lady within the ton to break your heart for some sort of inspiration for your art, that’s why you keep saying these things to me—”

“Is that what you think?” he cut you off and let out a breath. “Come on now.”

“Then what is it?”

“Do you really want to hear it?” he asked you. “Because I think if I say it out loud, you’re going to run away as fast as you can.”

You scoffed a bitter chuckle. “As always, you put too much importance in your words’ impact on me.”

“Is that right?” he said, looking you in the eye. “Why are you here then?”

You blinked a couple of times. “I…I don’t have to explain my actions to you.”

“Why are you here, Y/N?” he asked again, his voice on edge and you gritted your teeth, then stuck your nose in the air.

“I cannot have you hope for something impossible,” you managed to say. “You must cast that thought out of your mind—”

“You don’t think I tried?” he cut you off, and shook his head. “What on earth do you think I’ve been trying to do since I met you? It’s not working like it’s supposed to.”

You let out a dry laugh, the familiar bitterness that tasted terribly like jealousy reaching your throat.

“Right,” you said. “Spare me those lies, will you? I’m not as clueless as others in that ballroom. Whatever you were doing was done for your own pleasure, it had nothing to do with me.”

“You—”

“Nothing could ever happen between us no matter how much you may hope for it.” you cut him off and he stared at you, a flash of pain crossing his handsome face.

“It’s just me then?” he managed to ask and you pulled back slightly.

“Pardon?”

“It’s just me who feels this fire,” he said, taking a step towards you, his gaze pining you to your spot. “It’s just me who cannot cast you out of my mind, it’s just me who is in lo—”

“Don’t,” you said, the warning word like poisoned honey on your tongue, half sweet and half painful. "Don't say it."

“Why not?”

Because I don’t believe it.

You gritted your teeth, your jaw set firm in determination. “I do not wish to hear it.”

A soft smile curled his lips.

“Alright,” he said after a beat. “Then tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me you feel nothing for me,” he said. “Tell me it’s just me who feels this, and I swear on my honor I will never bother you again.”

It was supposed to be easy.

The whole ton could say lots of things about you, but no one could say you weren’t an expert on keeping your emotions under control. That required you to come up with lies whenever you needed to, but somehow you couldn’t will the words out of your mouth, they all got stuck in that lump that was growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

Your uncle was right, unfortunately.

Silence was enough of an answer sometimes.

“You—I—” you stammered, averting your eyes for a moment. “That has nothing to do with the discussion right now.”

He stared at you for a moment, that light in his gaze growing soft before he took a deep breath, looking down at the cigarette between his fingers.

“Y/N,” he said. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You either go back to the ballroom or—”

“What exactly makes you think you can tell me what to do?” you interrupted him, narrowing your eyes into a glare and he repressed a smile, then shook his head.

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m telling you what I am going to do,” he said. “You either go back to the ballroom, or I will kiss you. You have time until this cigarette is finished, so think carefully.”

That…

No.

No that was a bluff. It just had to be, of course he was not going to kiss you. Being under the delusion of infatuation and fooling himself into believing he was in love in order to experience heartbreak was one thing, but him actually kissing you was another.

Deep down he didn’t want or love you. He simply could not, even if he tried.

By some miracle, you managed to find your voice even though you felt as if excitement had already taken over you. “Am I supposed to be intimidated?”

He shook his head and took a drag of the cigarette.

“Not at all,” he said. “I’m just telling you what is going to happen.”

“You do remember I have a knife for times like these, do you not?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m willing to take my chances.”

You needed to leave. Any rational woman would leave immediately so as to protect their reputation, but somehow all your logic that would normally scream at you was drowned by the sound of your heart beating in your ears.

You were never the one to back away from a challenge after all, and the fire that was roaring through your veins was too powerful for you to even consider fighting against it. It was as if you were in a dream, and you were nearly trembling with anticipation, your whole body refusing to just take the step to go back to the ballroom.

It was just going to be one time.

You would only kiss him once, you would only taste that desire that had been haunting your dreams, tantalizing you every single night to wake you up gasping only once, and then—

Then you were going to go back to your original strategy. You were going to forget about him and this night, and find yourself a very old husband as you had planned and move on with your life.

Just once.

Just once couldn’t hurt.

You felt yourself take a step towards him before you pulled the cigarette from his lips to flick it to the ground, as if daring him to make his move. The fire in his eyes was so intense that for a moment you felt as if your whole face was burning, but you raised your brows, looking up at him before you scoffed a laugh.

“Just as I thought,” you said and turned around to leave, but felt him grab your upper arm to spin you around, drawing a gasp from you as your gaze snapped up to his.

“You, my poisonous flower,” his voice was a low murmur, making your heart skip a beat and he ran his knuckles over your burning cheekbone. “You will be the end of me.”

With that, his lips claimed yours.

Oh.

This was the infamous euphoria that every artist chased through centuries.

You could swear you felt yourself melt in his arms as he pressed you back to the wall of the gazebo, his hand cradling the back of your head, messing up your perfectly coiffed updo your maid had spent almost half an hour on but you couldn’t find it in you to care about it.

You couldn’t find it in you to care about anything else but him and his touch as long as he kept kissing you like this.

Desire spread through you like wildfire as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, blindly chasing that feeling which made you feel like you were falling off a cliff, your heart pacing in your chest, your whole body taken by this newfound high—

And then someone gasped.

It was as if you had been splashed with ice cold water. Benedict pulled back immediately and you turned your head but as soon as you saw who it was –who they were— you felt your stomach drop.

Lady Featherington’s mouth was open in shock, her eyes wide while your aunt looked almost frozen in her spot. Lady Bridgerton was covering her mouth, obviously as shocked as the rest of them and Lady Danbury let out a breath, shaking her head.

You could feel the fear smothering every single trace of happiness that was rushing through your system just a moment ago and you swallowed thickly, digging your fingernails into your palm while Benedict took a step sideways in your direction, almost shielding you from their gaze.

Through the fog of absolute fear, your mind managed to notice that tiny detail. You could claim he had no understanding of responsibility, that he was one of the most privileged men in the ton who never thought or cared about consequences, but it didn’t change one single fact:

Benedict Bridgerton; the unbridled philanderer, the spoiled second-son and free-spirited artist, had quite literally placed himself between you and the ton’s scrutiny.

Lady Featherington was the first to break the silence.

“A scandal!”

“Benedict…” Lady Bridgerton whispered and you shook your head, looking at your aunt while you blinked back the tears.

“I knew Lady Whistledown was right!” Lady Featherington said. “I knew it!”

“I’m sure there is an explanation,” Lady Danbury said through her teeth, glaring at Benedict, “Is there not?”

“What explanation?” Lady Featherington said with a small laugh. “Did you not see what I saw?”

“Y/N, what on earth do you think you are doing?” your aunt managed to ask in a whisper as if she was as shocked as you were, and you tried to gulp down the lump in your throat, keeping silent.

“This is unacceptable,” Lady Featherington said and motioned at you two. “Unchaperoned and—and— doing that!”

Air.

You needed air but somehow, you couldn’t seem to get enough of it into your lungs.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” Lady Featherington continued as Benedict stole a look at you, his hand curtly brushing over yours as if he wanted to remind you he was there before he turned to them. “This is no position to be found! Y/N, your reputation will be ruined when—”

“That is not going to happen, Lady Featherington,” Benedict cut her off, his voice completely calm and collected, the opposite of the mind-numbing fear that was nearly smothering you at the moment.  

Lady Danbury raised her brows. “Is it not?”

Benedict shook his head.

“Not at all,” he said, his words piercing through the chaos in your mind. “We’re going to get married.”

Chapter 9 

[hdrygdhbuu]

Hello, I’ve read a few small stories from Dir en grey’s meet&greet and experience from the concerts in general aaannddd I also decided to share mine from m&g 19.03 in Warsaw… Maybe just mainly for archival purposes, but anyway… it was quite interesting.

Since It was my very first concert in my whole life (but what is most important Dir en grey concert😭) and I was sosososo hella nervous – on top of all I came completely alone into the dark unknown! The first show of my favourite band. The first meet&greet with precious and talented band members on their first tour destination. I thought I could have died before start of the show.

Beforehand I’ve read some different experiences from m&g – there were really a few, really – it was said that people with VIP queued in front of the venue doors and were entering one by another to meet the members(¿). (Actually I have no clue, because I didn’t happen to enter among all the people… You’re allowed to read to know then lol) When I had come on the floor I saw two queues actually. One to the m&g and another to the merch booth. But as I said, It was my first life experience so I immediately got super confused and didn’t know where to go… Two long queues, a lot of people, I couldn’t understand which one is which… Anyway I stayed at the end of the merch queue (😭) and managed to buy some things almost THE LAST ONE. I mean, there still was a couple of girls near the stand, but… the cashier was very nice, (he let me pull out of the bag some secret postcard&stickers on my own lol) when he said «there is a meeting with a band, so you should hurry» and pointed at the entrance doors. I looked and realised there was no one around, like, really, empty corridor… Obviously I got scared (even more scared than I’ve been all this day) and rushed there immediately, almost running – actually it was just “fast-walking”. I didn’t know the place, what is where, and at that moment I didn’t even know where is the venue and where I entered… I jumped up to the venue with dizzy head, completely at a loss, greatly confused (I’m sorry, but that cashier really made me worry and hurry with those words😭) and first I couldn’t even recognize the place. All happened so suddenly: I saw them. But the first gaze was so quick, really, I only managed to catch the smiley glance from Toshiya first! Probably all of them were so confused of the chaotic way I entered 😭 (I even thought Toshiya was internally laughing at me, but i guess I was simply delusional.) The staff stopped me with "wait" or something, and – oh what a shame… – at that exact moment I suddenly/quickly turned around at my speed (but it wasn’t so fast fr) and stepped back as almost i was about to leave at every moment 😰 There were no fans nearby… before or after me… and we just stayed like that, so so embarrassing… Me, being afraid even just of looking at them, because I knew, I felt they were staring at me… Maybe i got affected by this “wait” from the staff and actually lost all remains of courage, waiting, waiting for the right signal😭 I met eyes with that woman from the staff, she was staring at me and i was looking at her like “what should i do, when am i allowed to step forward😰” Jeez i really felt so many eyes on me, as it was a long moment and i got lost…

But when i raised my sight, i couldn’t bear but just notice Toshiya’s smile 😭 (him being that tall after all) You know, it was just impossible not to catch it. He was staring so brightly, with the kindest and the most loving smile on his face😭 This smile could physically warm a body and hearts, full of gratefulness, love and respect. Since I’m quite young (i’m 20 actually… but the fact that I admit that I look much younger) for a moment i realised – i’m sure – it was a smile of a loving parent/senpai looking at the child/kohai 😭 Just… can’t describe this wholesome feeling, that he created inside of me with this looking&smile. He didn’t cut off his glance even when we actually met our eyes… i mean, i immediately got shyshyshyshy, i couldn’t withstand it and looked away😭 it was just too much😭🤚🏻

Then i noticed Kaoru looking straight and handing his postcard to me, encouraging me to come closer, and so that was the sign when i managed to finally move my trembling body. (The possibility that they might have been waiting for me just flutters all my insides and kills me!) So, then.. everything happened quite quickly, i was collapsed by shock, embarrassment and happiness at the same time, to the point I almost teared up. I bowed at each of them, saying quietly arigatogozaimassss as they were handing me signed postcards. I couldn’t even make myself to raise my head and look at them… Toshiya was the last one in a row, and when i stood in front of him the actual height difference hit me and got me on knees (and that’s the second reason i couldn’t get myself to look up – it would be physically uncomfortable lol i guess) I mean… this man is really tall, I faced his chest at the level of my nose for real, so yeah (I’m 160cm). He was the one who thanked me in response – well, maybe i was just too dumb and rushed too much idk – and that was so cute of him! Really, he seemed to be the nicest at the m&g, he really does care about fans, he really is glad and happy to meet fans😭 and he obviously showed his appreciation of all its power/extent. The one meeting broke my heart.

Of course after this i rushed to the rest of people near the stage (luckily i was in a second row right before Toshiya!) And then they left the place almost right away… I mean, after all maybe i really was the last one??? And what if they were waiting for me?? (It kills me ugh) Idk… I was sure there were some more girls at the merch booth before….

Anyway, talking about my very first show impression, i was sincerely amazed by this little pleasing discovery of my own – all of them actually were looking at fans during the show! Like straight in the eyes. Catching our glances. Sustaining this eye contact again and again. It felt like a dream, it felt like we and them actually connected on some kind of inner basis/level… I’m sure I even crossed some glances with Toshiya and Kaoru 😭 I didn’t expect it so, again, i felt kinda embarrassed, but super crazy! That was so much fun! Really, I will never forget those nights… And now, every time reminding it – all of them, the performance, their movements and emotions, that charming smile of Toshiya – I can’t help but melt into a divine smile…

Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart💔 And thank you too who has read this unexpectedly long message 😭🤲🏻 And sorry for any mistakes..

P.S. I also wouldn’t mind if anyone who has read it, would like to share their experience too🤲🏻 Really, just kinda curious… and after all i don’t have friends who i can talk about diru with sooooooo feel free to share🙌🏻🌷

[emsgwenstan]

Unending, undone.

Larissa Weems x fem reader. (Angst)

Words: 2k?

Warnings: angst, delusions, unrequited love.

Note: I hate this. one of my wips I need to get rid of, I didn’t want to delete the entire thing, I really couldn’t be bothered to edit and make it better. Anyway- hopefully it’s kinda enjoyable, apologies in advance I wrote this like 7 months ago.

———

It was the weekend and as of that, yourself, Larissa, vlad and the elderly library lady from nevermore were chaperoning the students that wanted to go into Jericho. Before the kids got off the bus it was made clear once again that they will all be departing at 3:30pm and if not accounted for find your own way back to the school and expect consequences.

all departed off the bus to do their own things, old mrs Byrnes to the local library, vlad to the sports and recreation shop, Larissa entered the wethervain and you opted to stroll the streets.

After about two hours of walking in the bone chilling autumn air, you decide to cross the street to take refuge in the weathervane, hoping Larissa is willing to have you as company if she’s still in there, you hadn't seen her since she walked into the café. Reaching the door her silver hair caught your attention, Larissa was sat at her usual booth close to the back almost tucked away, your gaze was strictly on her, eyebrows slightly furrowed eyes glued to a spot out side, but the small twitch of her lips made her seem to be deep in thought. after working with Larissa for a long period of time you found yourself observing her closely, admiring her from afar, knowing, understanding what makes her happy or mad, keeping a mask was enough to fool others but to you, she was like an open book.

Entering, you walked up to the counter, ordered and paid. Turning to face her, she still hadn’t moved, her shoulders rigged and back straight, statue looking. You waltz over, placing your phone and purse on the table in hopes it breaks her trans like state with a simple. “Hey.” It doesn’t. You took to squatting down and wrapping you hand gently around her gloved wrist that was nursing a cup of black coffee, Larissa let out a small gasp turning to face who ever it was that startled her, only to look down a bit to find you.

“Oh how rude of me I didn’t realise you were there, apologies.” She said softly with a forced smile. You didn’t respond, merely giving her a look of concern, the longer she peered into your eyes the more she knew what you were trying to say. “How could I be so daft to think she couldn’t see right through me?” She thought.

“Do you want me to sit across you or beside you?” You asked standing, sounding maybe a little to stern, however when it comes to the people you deeply care about only seriousness and attentiveness are needed plus a ton of comfort. Larissa shifted over in the seat to make room for you and took to peering back out into the town.

"two large hot chocolates?" the waiter asked slipping the cups gently onto the table. You whipped your head around to him. "yes! thank you so much." you said feeling a little reprieved having to take your eyes away from Larissa, although her interest was piqued at the words 'hot' and 'chocolate'. "oh um would you mind taking this one please?" you asked him, whilst dragging the coffee from Larissa grasp. "yeah no worries, enjoy ladies." he said before returning behind the counter.

Larissa was giving you the biggest look, at this point. “I wasn’t fini-“. She began. “No.” You simply said cutting her off. “The amount of sips you took from the time of me being here, to the lack of steam, means you have had the same cup for quite some time, so you have most definitely finished dearest. Not to mention it was straight black coffee, very unlike you.” You stated proudly, whilst pushing her a cup and pulling one towards yourself.

Watching her hesitantly take a drink, not wanting you to see her defeat, you smirked in victory. Sitting in silence for a while you noticed her demeanour shift, reverting back to her former melancholy state. You took to laying your hand on her thigh and tilting your head in a concerned way. Larissa was unfazed by the action, however still hyper aware of you touch.

Stroking your thumb over her exposed knee, “come, we only have ten minutes.” She blinked a few times to settle back into the air of reality before downing the remanence of her drink. You scooted out of the booth and offered a hand to Larissa, you could feel the warmth radiating from her soft leather gloves. Once standing, she habitably smooths down her dress, you take ahold of her upper arm and waltz out of the cafe and towards the bus.

Doing a head count of all the students that re-entered the vehicle you usher vlad and help mrs Byrnes, before resting your hand on the small of Larissa’s back to help her get in, not that she couldn’t do it herself of course, but you felt the need to gently coax her out of her mind and try getting her to focus until she was back at the school.

With all the children off and back on campus, you were the last ones off I the bus. “I’ll take you to your room.” You said, reaching for her hand. Instantly though, she dodged your grasp only to looked at you as if you tried to burn her, confused you took a step back thing you overstepped. After a moment of awkward silence you spoke. “I’ll uh.. I’ll just go and leave you to it.” You said turning to walk away, your face bright red from embarrassment.

Although you must have taken only about three steps until you felt a warm ungloved hand and fingers threaded through your own and another wrapped around your elbow. Stopping, you peered into her eyes trying to figure out what she’s trying to say, but instead of asking you resumed walking with her attached to you.

Reaching her quarters, she let herself inside only to turn around and see you didn’t follow her. Popping her head back out the door to see you walking back to your own room. “Y/n?” She questioned. You turned back to gaze at her. “What are you doing? Did… you want to come in?” She said softly. “I just thought that- well… you? I?” You stuttered not really knowing what you thought. Larissa left the doorway making a b-line for you. “Would you like to come in? I assumed you would come with me.” She started, sounding confident but gradually became more timid.

Nodding as a yes you both walked separately into her home. Your eyes widen in awe at her living decor, all pieces, trinkets and art were the embodiment of Larissa. She was amused at your staring, pointing out a couple of artists to the paintings you seamed fixated on. Your amazement wasn’t just about the objects themselves more the fact that Larissa and yourself have very similar tastes, however she can afford to buy the finer things in life.

Everything was gawked at, Larissa took note of how you shared the same interests. “Y/n? Do you happen to like shoes?….designer shoes?” She asked your face dropped. “Yes! I do.” She smiled and told you to follow her. You entered what seemed to be her very own room and walk in closet. It was beautiful and organised, she bent down and pulled out a few shoe boxes. “I have these brought over from London every couple of months and I haven’t gotten to sending them back, there the wrong sizes, I think they may fit you.” She said. “Really!… I mean no.” You said trying hard not to be overzealous.

She pulled out a pair of black heals. Ones you’ve had your eye on for years and there they were in her grasp. “Here try them on.” She pleaded. “I mustn’t.” You said “sit.” She commanded taking a hold of your shoe and pulling it off putting it on herself. “There perfect. You may have all of them.” She said. “No, Larissa I can’t.” You said. “Either you take them or I’ll find a way to put them in your room.” She said. Giving in you thanked her and you understand how much they cost and will take care of each one.

After a while of sitting on the floor she lay down with her eyes fluttering. “How about I put you to bed hmmm?” You asked. Larissa looked at her watch. “It’s only five.” You placed the shoes back in there boxes and stacked them on top of each other. “Yes but your exhausted, if you like I’ll come back later and bring some food?” You wondered taking a hold of her elbows as she held onto the insides of yours. Larissa didn’t answer, she merely smiled and walked out into her room and paced to a beautiful tall chested draws and pulled out a navy satin sleep set.

You stood awkwardly in the closet doorway as you watched her ‘should I go back and rearrange the shoes or?…’ you thought, not knowing if you should just leave to give her privacy or what. Larissa tossed the set on her ridiculously large and lavish bed and turned to you. “Y/n would you mind unzipping my dress, I just have trouble reaching behind.” She asked. Butterflies erupted in your stomach at her request, your strong, stern and hopeful front melting away.

You reached up and grabbed her zip dragging it down the expanse of her back, her bra clasp came into view as well as the freckles that littered her skin that you hadn’t seen before. Your hands lingered a little to long and Larissa slowly turned to face you. “I know, someone like me not being able to reach is quite sporadic isn’t it.” She blushed ducking her head. “Not at all, not everyone is as flexible as others, I know I’m certainly not.” You said with a chuckle.

Larissa smiled and moved her hand to her shoulder to peal the material away, slow enough for it to be your queue to leave if need be. That you did, you turned on your heals and made your way back into the walk-in robe to peer at her other belongings.

“You can come back.” She spoke softly, if it were you, you’d probably yell it for some reason even if it’s unnecessary. “Larissa?” You asked, walking to her bed pulling back the covers for her, she plopped on the bed taking out her earrings and removing the rest of her jewellery. “Mmm?” She hummed in acknowledgment. You busied yourself with pulling out the pins in her hair and for once you weren’t the first one to relies how intimate the whole afternoon has been.

“Do you think you could tell me what’s going on in your mind.” You asked concentrating on her hair, trying hard not to pull or hurt. Larissa let out a sigh as if she was dreading the question. “I’m just… not myself today. I’ve been thinking of the past a little to much lately and things I should have done and what things I could have done differently, unhealthy I know but that’s all.” She said in a low velvety voice. “I see. You know I’m here to listen to anything you have to say, I support you and care very much about your wellbeing, no matter how laughable that sounds.” You said.

Larissa raised her chin and looked up through her lashes at your face. A doting, sweet expression graced your face. “Thank you, darling.” She whispered. “Lay down, I’ll draw the curtains and I’ll go ok.” You pulled the covers up over her body to get warm.

With the curtains drawn and all things done, you made your way back to Larissa’s side of the bed. Her eyes fluttered shut as you dipped beside her, larissa looked peaceful and relaxed, it’s a little foreign being so close to larissa in her own home and in her most vulnerable state. You couldn’t manage to tear your eyes away from her soft lips and gorgeous free hair, until you relised her pyjamas had slightly fallen down her shoulder. More freckles adorned her pale skin, had you been aware of her lingering gaze you wouldn’t had stared for so long with out a word.

“What’s the matter?” She asked. “Oh! Nothing, I… sorry I was just, admiring.” You confessed. Your skin turned red once again, you could have just lied but what the use in not telling her how utterly beautiful she is. “Admiring?” She asked with a little smile. “Yes. Your just so…” you began. “A curiosity.” She whispered with her eyes turning sad and seemingly hurt. “No not at all, your beautiful, stunning, exquisite even.” You grinned down at her seeing the way her eyes sparkle at your words.

“Oh.” She said clearly not ready for you to say such wonderful things to her. ‘I love you’. You thought. For the longest time you had been alone and so had Larissa, it feels like your saving each other from drowning in loneliness, a life raft for one another. Her expression changed to complete confusion with wide eyes. “What?” You asked. “You-just…. Did you just say I love you.” She asked almost out of breath. ‘No. No fucking way I just did that.’ Without thinking you shot up and ran to the door and left without so much as a peep.

“Wait-no! Please, I, y/n!” Larissa shouted clambering off and out of the bed, she ripped out her dressing gown and slipped on a pair of flats within 30 seconds and sprinted to your quarters through passage ways to avoid potential eyes. Arriving, she knocked on the door relentlessly to no avail, only to find that the door was unlocked. Stepping in the room cautiously she found you curled in bed with multiple layers of bedding covering your shaking body. Larissa took it upon herself to remove her shoes and gown before fighting you to let go of your vice grip on the blankets, you were laying on your stomach with your face pressed into the pillows. Larissa sunk down into the bed slipping beside you re-covering you both with the covers before she turned on her side and wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you flush to her, front to front.

You hid your head in your hands against her breasts wishing your were invisible. “Y/n. I need you to look at me for what I’m about to say.” She asked, earning a whimper of refusal from you. So she did what was necessary, Larissa grasped your hands prying them away from your face to be met with a wet mess of a face, your eyes open and involuntarily you mouth twitches into a small smile just by looking at her, but faded when you remember what just happened revoking your sight and shutting your eyes again. “Look at me love.” She asked, cupping your cheek using the backs of her fingers to wipe away the tears.

You took a deep breath and looked at her again. “Y/n..” she started. “I love you to.” She said running her fingers through your hair. You stared at her and waited for her to continue. “You asked me what I was thinking about today and I told you I wasn’t feeling like myself… but the truth is, I was watching you for a while this morning, admiring. But I relised that you could never want me. You could never possibly feel the same. Then when you walked in I started to think about previous relationships I’ve had and how terrible they turned out.”

You couldn’t believe it, Larissa Weems, your boss and friend, the most elegant and graceful woman you had ever met loves you. “I-I…” you stuttered , but being unable to conjure words the only option was to show her how you feel. You moved your hands to her face and slowly moved up, each others breath’s mingling, noses and lips lightly brushing, you pull back just to look into her eyes silently asking if it were ok. Larissa crashed her lips onto yours, passionate and strong but oh so loving.

Or at least that's what you wished would of happened if she hadn't let you go back to you quarters when you arrived back at the school. if only Larissa had caught up to you when you turned to leave her, if only she threaded her fingers through your own and stopped you. The small imaginary scenarios are what keeps your mind active but heart heavy, you wouldn't be laying in bed sobbing dreaming of such delusional things, but i suppose we cant all get the ones we love in the end right?

______

its been a week since your little awkward incident and both yourself and Larissa have been avoiding each other like the plague, although every night Larissa walks past your quarters to get back to her own, trying to have enough courage to just ask if your ok, but never does, not until she heard struggled breaths and choked sobs emanating from within your room. it was quiet late, very late in fact, almost ten past three in the morning.

she stood outside your door with her back resting on the architrave. "i don't know what I'm supposed to do, i mean i look so stupid crying over a woman i know doesn't want me, why would she? i give her no reason for her to be interested in me, I'm nothing, no one, but is it so wrong to be in love with Larissa?" you asked talking to no one in particular out your window. Larissa's pursed lips pried open in disbelief at your words.

she turned and and without hesitation knocked, wanting- needing to see you, needing your eyes to look at her, needing to be close, not caring who or what you were talking to. after a brief moment you swung open the door with furrowed brows until you saw her, your face dropped at her appearance.

standing there in silence her eyes seemed to tell you something you couldn't understand. Larissa brushed past you and welcomed herself into your room, confused, you closed the door to face her. "I'm afraid I've been quite the asshole." she said. "pardon?" you asked. “I’m sorry y/n, it’s been hard avoiding you and if you would let me… I’d like to apologise and hopefully we can work on this.” She said gesturing between the two of you.

You stood planted to the ground until you took small steps towards her and embraced her in a hug as an acceptance. “I don’t know what you’re going through right now but I only wish to help, please don’t push me away. Even though you don’t feel the same way about me, assuming you just heard, then that’s ok.” You said pulling away from her looking into Larissa’s sad eyes. “I think I can love you, I will learn to, I have to learn how to love again first y/n, but I won’t push you away I’ll try to keep you close I promise.”

At that you lead her out to your balcony and sat down watching the stars soaking in this new kind of relationship, whether it will eventuate into something more then a friendship doesn’t matter because at the end of the day Larissa knows you will always be there, the cards are now resting in her hands, not all expectations are met, not every story ends happily, but for now it’s just the two of you, no one else and you will forever be bonded, now we will never know.

@sabraaabra

[propertyofkylar]

midnight visitor (m!yandere incubus x gn!reader)

you meet damien at a club and are instantly entranced by this handsome stranger. but not only is he equally entranced with you - he has some secrets to hide.

cw: yandere, nsfw, alcohol mention

The bright lights and loud music of the club swirled around you. It would’ve given you a headache if you weren’t just drunk enough for it to be enjoyable.

Truthfully, you weren’t much of a club person, but today being the birthday of your best friend was reason enough for you to let loose for once. So here you were, surrounded by people on the dance floor.

You took a step back and cringed almost immediately when the heel of your foot came into contact with what clearly was someone else’s toes. You whipped your head around to apologize and found yourself face-to-face with an incredibly handsome man.

The frown on his face quickly faded as he eyed you up, flashing you a smirk. Your breath caught in your throat - the man was beautiful, and you were only human, after all.

“S-sorry,” you managed to get out, but the smirk on the man’s face only grew. You took in his long, dark hair, his defined cheekbones and the way his eyes seemed to be a dark red. But that must’ve just been the club lighting, you figured.

“S’alright,” the man said in a smooth, deep voice. He held out a hand. “You can dance with me to make up for it.”

“Um,” you felt your face flush. You weren’t used to this kind of attention. “Okay, sure.”

His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you close, the two of you moving vaguely to the loud music. It wasn’t like skill really mattered on the dance floor, anyway.

“I’m Damien,” the man said with a smile, and the look in his eyes made you realize he didn’t plan for this to be a one-and-done sort of dance. Not that you minded - your friends might be annoyed if you ditched them for a guy, but you had been at the club for a while now, and your group of friends had spread out, so they might not really mind after all. Besides, you had seen your best friend making out with an unknown woman in the corner just 15 minutes ago, so she had no room to speak.

You introduced yourself and Damien watched you like you were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. His stare was…almost enchanting, in a way. 

What a weird thing to think, you mused to yourself. Maybe you were drunker than you thought. 

After the two of you had danced for a few songs, Damien took your hand, sending shivers through your body. “You look tired. Would you like to sit down?” He gestured to an empty booth nearby, and you nodded.

“Yeah, thanks,” you said as the two of you left the dance floor and sat. He smiled at you and you felt that enchanted feeling again.

Damien laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them, looking at you like you were the only other person in the building. You weren’t necessarily an unconfident person, but frankly, you really weren’t used to this level of attention, and it made you blush. “So,” he said. “What brings you here tonight?”

“My friend’s birthday,” you gestured vaguely in the direction you had last seen her. “You?”

He gave you a smile that you couldn’t quite place. “Just…looking.”

“Oh. Oh,” you said, as you caught the intention behind his words. “Um. Well, I mean I’m flattered, but I’m not really—” 

Damien’s low chuckle cut off your rambling. “Relax. Not like that, so don’t worry.”

“Oh. Um, okay,” now you felt kind of stupid. You were making a fool of yourself in front of the hottest man you’d ever seen.

His eyes looked into yours before he spoke again. “You seem like you’ve had a long night. Would you allow me to take you home?”

If you had a drink, you surely would have choked on it. “I only live a few blocks away. It’s okay.”

Damien gave you another smile. “Even better. I can walk you home. Trust me, I’m a gentleman. No funny business,” he splayed his fingers as if that was proof.

Maybe it was the number of drinks you’d had, or maybe you just made impulsive decisions. Either way, you agreed, and the stranger walked you back to your apartment.

The two of you chatted idly along the way, not really talking about much. When you made it to the front of your building, you pointed and said, “This is me.”

The man looked down at you, and gave a soft smile. He leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, which felt more intimate than if he had kissed your lips, somehow. “Sweet dreams,” he murmured, but it felt like he meant something more.

That night, you were having the hottest wet dream of your entire life.

The handsome man from the club had his face between your legs, and grinned wolfishly before diving in, licking and sucking in a way that gave you pleasure like never before. “You taste so good,” he murmured, and the vibrations from his low voice sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

“Fuck…” you mumbled. At your response, you could’ve sworn you saw Damien’s eyes flash blood red. A small part of your consciousness knew it was a dream, but it felt so real. And so, so good.

One moment you were whimpering and squirming, clutching Damien’s hair as you moaned his name, then the dream suddenly switched and his form was looming over yours, looking not unlike a hunter sizing up his prey.

You felt something against your thigh and looked down to see his thick cock pressed against your leg. Your eyes met his and he smirked.

“Don’t worry, I know it’ll fit,” Damien snickered as he rubbed the tip teasingly against your entrance. He moved his head closer to yours so he could press kisses to your neck, before suddenly biting down. Hard. 

You squealed, twitching in a way that bumped the tip of his cock on a sensitive spot and made you squirm even more. “I don’t wanna wake up…” you mumbled, desperate for more.

Damien chuckled again. “Mm, they always say that.” And with that, he plunged his dick into you with a gasp.

It was a dream. You knew it had to be a dream. But it felt so real. And it felt so good. You were whining as Damien pounded into you relentlessly, his own face bright red.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You feel even better than I imagined.”

You weren’t even able to form a response; you just laid there as he fucked you better than anyone had in real life.

“Hah, you’re taking my dick so well,” he whispered into your ear, causing you to clench around him. “Feels like you were made for me, doesn’t it? Feels so good…”

His words, coupled with his earlier acts, brought you close to your peak. “I’m–fuck–I’m gonna…” your words were interrupted as he touched a particularly sensitive spot inside of you.

“That’s a good pet,” Damien grunted as he slammed into you. “Cum for me.”

And you did, crying out his name as you came undone. But he didn’t slow down at all. If anything, he moved even faster and harder as his own climax approached.

“Fuck!” Damien yelled as he thrust his cock as deeply as he possibly could inside of you, gripping onto your waist as he came. Breathing heavily, he pressed a kiss directly below your ear and said your name quietly. It sounded so beautiful coming from him. 

“I’m gonna have to come back for seconds,” he said with a laugh.

When you woke up in the morning, the dream was nothing more than a hazy memory that you couldn’t recall no matter how hard you tried. All you knew was that your legs were sticky and there was a dull heat throbbing inside you.

At that moment, entirely unknown to you, Damien himself was pacing back and forth on the rooftop of your building.

Damien prided himself on many things. He was a confident man. He was incredibly charming and equally as handsome. He could get anyone to do anything he wanted. He had been a demon for a very long time and had spent many, many nights hunting down prey, visiting them in their dreams, and taking what he needed from them to survive. This was how it had gone for many hundreds of years (he had lost count at this point). It was simple, there was no attachment, and he never struck the same victim twice.

Until now.

He cursed to himself as he walked to and fro, deep in thought. You had stood out to him at the club, naturally - he was not one to take on just any prey. No, he had specifics in what he liked, and always got what he wanted. But there was something different about you. Something that he couldn’t quite place, something that sent shockwaves through his body every time he thought about you and how you had behaved in your dream.

Damien should have known you were different from the instant he smelled you at the club. You had smelled like the most mouthwatering dessert to him, and that is when he knew you would be his pet that night. Actually getting to taste you, though, was something he had never experienced. Imagine the most delectable meal you have ever had, and then multiply it by five. That is how you tasted to Damien. You were so soft, so sweet, so tender. 

It was maddening.

He had to have you again. He knew that, at least. His mind was overwhelmed with millions of thoughts rushing in, all of them centered around you. How he could see you again. How you would taste and feel in your dreams again the next night. How he could make you permanently his.

That settled it. He would have to visit you nightly and keep an eye on you during the day too to make sure no one else had you. You were going to belong to him and him alone. Damien knew at that moment he would do whatever it took to make sure you were his. 

A grin slowly grew on Damien’s face as a solid plan formed in his mind. He whispered your name into the wind, savoring how it felt on his tongue.

When he was finished, you would never think of anybody else.

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.11

Summary: Wednesday works up the courage to use the D word, and for the first time since coming to Nevermore, she actually comes to genuinely learn a thing or two about you. And hey, maybe she can face some of her own feelings in the process.

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of past abuse

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x fem!Reader

(Masterlist)

Tag List: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @n0p35 @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @asters-abditory @alexkolax @thenextdawn-backup @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian

A date. That was the exact word Enid had used when telling Wednesday what needed to happen next. She had made it very clear that the word “date” had to be used in the question. “No more of that “outing” nonsense,” she had said. The girl had some audacity, Wednesday would give her that.

Now the real issue rested on what exactly Wednesday was going to do for said “date.” It was a word she hated using, it held far too much weight and responsibility and expectations. She couldn’t just ask you to go for a walk because you did that anyway. No coffee because it was a constant and you had started bringing her a coffee every morning anyway. No, it had to be more than that.

Dates took too much planning.

Which was exactly why she found herself on Enid’s computer, doing her best to use it without asking for help. There had to be something in the area that you would enjoy, right? But despair settled in the back of her throat as she came to a sudden, single terrifying realisation.

She had no idea what you would enjoy doing.

All the time she had spent with you, all the outings and coffees and tutoring sessions, and she didn’t have a single clue what your interests were. You clearly knew her very well, hence the autopsy outing, but she was at a complete loss. She raked her brain for every hint, every clue, every aspect of you that she had collected to try and figure out this small mystery.

The longer she sat there, the more she realised there really hadn’t been many clues to begin with. Your room was filled with everything you could find, not following a specific theme. The things you talked about mirrored everyone else, not your own interests. When she thought about it, she realised there had only been two times she had seen you doing something for you; playing piano in the opera hall, and skipping detention for birdwatching.

Birdwatching…

Typing on the computer was more difficult than using a typewriter. It didn’t click the same way. The only benefit was being able to erase her mistakes, but it still took too much time to type in what she wanted. Then there were too many search results to dig through, why couldn’t she just use a library instead? At least it was more rewarding when she finally found what she was looking for.

Nonetheless, she stopped her internal complaining when she found something that caught her eye. A few clicks to get to where she wanted, and her eyes scanned the words on the page. It would be a long shot, but she truly felt you would enjoy it. Hopefully her gut reaction was correct.

Now all she needed to do was ask you.

—---

“We haven’t had a chance to talk since you’ve been back,” Larissa said as you plopped down in the booth opposite her, coffee spilling out over your fingers.

You looked tired. It wasn’t an unusual thing after long breaks, you despised not being at Nevermore and having easy access to Nicholas. But this was different; your shoulders drooped more and your smile wasn’t as genuine. The shake in your fingers was usual, but not the glassiness in your eyes.

“It’s been crazy,” you chuckled lightly, though even that sounded forced.

“You seem tired,” she actually vocalised, leaning slightly forward on the table to hopefully put you at ease.

“Break was tough,” you admitted almost instantly. It was quite the surprise.

“Would you like to talk about it?” She asked.

You looked down at your hands and started playing with your coffee mug. A few small blood spots were around your nails and new scrapes were healing across your knuckles. You went boxing, Larissa thought with a hushed cluck of her tongue. As much as she knew you had a reason, few things brought her greater sorrow than seeing the scrapes and bruises across such sensitive hands.

“Kristi and Marcus started calling again.”

Larissa’s sorrow turned into sudden rage. You were still focusing on your mug, but she was seeing red. How dare they try to contact you again? They made it a point to do so about every other year, but as far as she was concerned, they had given up their rights to you when they dropped you and Nicholas off at Nevermore all those years ago.

She would never be able to forget the looks on yours and Nicholas’ faces when you realised that no, they weren’t coming back for you. They weren’t coming for Parents’ Weekend, they weren’t taking you home for winter break, they weren’t picking you up for the summer. No nine year old should ever be faced with the terrifying realisation that they had been abandoned.

They only ever attempted to contact you if they needed something from you. In fact, if she remembered properly, the last time they had contacted you was after the accident. Even then it was only to see how much they needed to pay in medical bills; not once did they show any amount of concern for your wellbeing.

It was times like this when Larissa wished she was a more violent person.

“Let me know if they call you again.” You looked up from your untouched coffee. “I will take care of it.”

You gave her a small smile; a genuine one, one that she found herself craving whenever you were around. The big smiles, the toothy ones that you had when talking about something you were passionate about, those were wonderful. They didn’t quite compare to the small ones, the quiet ones, the ones that were so soft they were practically a gift whenever you gave them. Larissa loved seeing that one.

“How has the term been so far?” Larissa asked as she leaned back in the booth and took a sip of her hot chocolate.

Now she could see that toothy grin that so often meant trouble.

“Besides detention?” You asked. Cheeky.

“You rightfully deserved those,” she answered with a light chuckle.

“It’s been good,” you continued. “Wednesday finally asked me on a date.”

“Did she, now?”

Larissa would admit she was shocked at the revelation. There were plenty of nights the past term when you would come by her office and pace, complaining time after time about how frustrating Addams was. Yet when she would ask if you wanted to give up, you would give her a look of utter incredulity; of course you didn’t want to give up.

The way you talked about Miss Addams was almost laughable; the sheer admiration on your face was beyond evident. And yet you were never ashamed, you continued to embellish. Whether it was about her intellect, or her personality, or her hobbies. You would ramble until you were out of breath or Larissa reminded you how late it was.

“Saturday morning, yeah,” you said, completely unaware of Larissa’s internal thoughts. “No idea what we’re doing but, you know, it’ll be fun.”

With a small smile, your eyes slowly slid shut as you sipped your coffee. The exhaustion was still evident in everything about you, but you looked serene. Larissa was unused to you looking at peace, yet whenever Miss Addams came up, it seemed so effortless. If a girl was all it took to keep you happy, Larissa was more than content to let you live out your life as the teenager you so rarely got to be.

—---

You had not dressed appropriately for the date, and Wednesday was on the verge of giving up and heading back to Nevermore.

She had explicitly told you numerous times that you needed to wear something warm because you would be outside. It was still winter, there was a possibility of snow, and she knew you got cold quickly. Yet what were you wearing when you met up with her? A button down, jeans, boots, and the thinnest jacket Wednesday thought she had ever seen.

“You’re going to freeze,” she told you, but you just waved off her concern and started walking. Now you were visibly shaking, and she didn’t feel sorry for you.

Maybe she felt a little sorry for you.

“Where are we even going anyway?” You asked through chattering teeth after only the first 15 minutes of walking.

But Wednesday didn’t answer you, she just kept walking. It was inconsiderate, she was well aware of that, but what could she do? Everything about this trip was supposed to be a secret, a surprise. As much as she craved to tell you, she was going to keep her mouth shut. It was for your own good.

“You’re not taking me out here to kill me, are you?” You asked, this time letting out a nervous chuckle.

Once again she didn’t answer, only looking at you out of the corner of her eye. It gave her a certain sadistic satisfaction to see your face drop. You froze in place while Wednesday kept walking; at least you couldn’t see the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

“Are you?” You asked again, your voice further away as Wednesday kept walking. “Wednesday!”

The sound of your boots against the cold ground grew louder until you were walking beside her again. You had pulled your jacket tighter around your body and your shoulders were hunched. If your wings had been free, they would’ve wrapped around your body to encase what little warmth was left. Wednesday wished you would let them out.

A tingle radiated up her arm as your knuckles brushed lightly against her hand as you both continued walking. A small part (a very small part) in the back of her mind told her to grab your hand. To intertwine her fingers with yours and feel your thumb rubbing in that way that was so frustratingly soft and comforting. And she nearly did when your hand brushed against hers again.

Just do it, she thought when, for a third time, you graced her with the touch of your fingers on her skin. It should have been easy, you were both alone and no one would see. There was a privacy you couldn’t get at Nevermore, which was exactly what Wednesday had been planning for. But she just couldn’t get herself to reach out, to actually hold your hand.

So imagine her surprise when you did it for her. When you grabbed her hand so gently it was almost torturous. Your hand was so much bigger, practically encompassing the entirety of her hand. And the warmth, god your skin was so warm, it was no wonder you were so cold.

She hoped you couldn’t feel her racing pulse in her wrist.

“What’s that?” You asked, and Wednesday’s shoulders relaxed when she saw the building up ahead.

Though now derelict, the majority of the aviary was still standing. Vines crept up the outside walls and through the broken windows while trees towered above, burying it in shadow. The evidence of past inhabitants remained in the form of nests littering the roof and window sills.

“You are gonna kill me, you bastard,” you mumbled, but judging by the squeeze of her hand, you were joking.

Hopefully.

Now it was Wednesday’s turn to pull you along after her, keeping a tight grip on your hand. She might not be the one to make the first move, but she was certainly not going to be the first one to let go. It was easy to understand why her father was always staying in physical contact with her mother; it was grounding, comforting, and reminded her of home.

The further into the building she led you, the more little noises of amazement you let out. Once fully inside, Wednesday realised just how much of a mistake it was to bring you to an abandoned aviary. With no regard for anyone’s safety, you practically ran around, pulling Wednesday with you whether her legs could keep up or not.

If she had wanted to lead you to a specific room, that plan was gone. You were so enthralled with the building, pointing out everything you saw whether you knew what it was or not. That was most likely the nest of a pigeon, oh look that’s a bluejay feather, those birds weren’t even native to Vermont. She could imagine this was what you had been like as a child; easily excitable and full of wonder.

It was a good look on you, that smile of yours. While you often had one, this was far different. This one reached your eyes and showed off the sparkle within them. She could see the slight chip in one of your teeth and the silver band of a retainer on your bottom teeth when you were talking. How lovely, Wednesday thought, to see such imperfections.

Where did that thought come from?

“I didn’t know birds set up picnics,” you said, and Wednesday finally stopped looking at you for long enough to remember the initial point of this outi- no, it was a date.

Right. This was planned.

What did she say? Should she tell you that yes, it was a picnic, Enid had helped her plan it? No, she couldn’t say that, it would be humiliating to admit that she had no idea how to plan dates, had never even been on a date, and had to have Enid of all people help her. She had needed help, and that was so humiliating that Wednesday would rather bury herself alive.

“It looks peaceful,” you said, and once again Wednesday felt a sense of relief that you were taking all the difficult things away from her. “Come on.”

With a much more reserved smile - though no less genuine - you pulled Wednesday over to the blanket and sat the both of you down. For the first time since the walk in the woods, Wednesday let go of your hand and let you do what you apparently did best. For having no idea about the intricacies of this day, you were certainly acting as if you had planned all of it.

The way you got everything out of the basket and started setting things out, one would have assumed you did this all the time. Wednesday certainly felt like it as you laid out her favourites in front of her while yours was more on your side. And when you poured the drinks, and started getting a plate ready for Wednesday before your own, and the way you held the plate out for her to take as if you were serving her your heart on a silver platter-

-no. No, Wednesday didn’t think she liked that terrifying possibility at all. It meant you cared. It meant you were willing to give things up for her, and that was hammered into her head when she saw the still angry wound on your neck that she had caused. No, that you had let her cause. And now you were offering her the rest of you as if there would be no consequences.

Say something, her mind told her as she took the plate from you and watched as you started making your own. You weren’t as careful about how you plated your own food, more just tossing it onto the plate without a care in the world. Nothing like the structured, separated plate you had made for her.

The list. Wednesday’s eyes widened slightly as she remembered the list in her jacket pocket. While you were preoccupied with trying to decide which specific piece of cheese you wanted - even though it was the same type of cheese - she grabbed the piece of paper and laid it out beside her. Positioned just perfectly so you couldn’t see it, but she could read it easily.

“How is your family?” Wednesday asked in the most nonchalant way she could with her heart trying to thump its way up her throat.

But the way you froze with wide eyes and a cracker sticking half out of your mouth instantly made her feel like she had started with the wrong question. You chewed your food slowly, so painfully slowly and for a moment Wednesday started to consider if death would be the best solution. Certainly it would be less torturous than waiting for what you would say.

“You wanna know about my family?” You asked incredulously with a look that was far too vulnerable for Wednesday’s liking.

“Yes,” Wednesday said around the lump in her throat.

Your eyes trailed off to the side as a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Wednesday listened as you finally started talking, telling her all about your family. You talked about your siblings, how one of them still hadn’t wolfed out yet, or how the other didn’t even enjoy blood, or how the little ones were doing in school. Onward to your abuelita, and your grandfather, and your mother. Wednesday was dizzy with your quick name changes and though she still wasn’t keeping up, she rarely got to see you so happy.

Only when you had ran out of breath did Wednesday ask you the next question, and on the day went. She learned more about you in one day than she had over the past months she had known you. You could play the banjo and fiddle as well, but your brother Nicky was the real fiddle player. That grandfather of yours had been a blacksmith, that’s where the sword you had sent her father came from. The list went on and on, and Wednesday kept a mental note to thank Enid for the questions.

Conversation died down as Wednesday ran out of questions, but it was a comfortable silence. It was nice, truly, to just sit in silence without any worries. There was no need to concern yourselves with homework, or exams, or the real world. Just to simply sit there and hear the nature surrounding you both without a care in the world.

She waited until you finished snacking before setting her own plate back in the picnic basket. You followed suit and started packing everything up without question. You missed the raised brow she sent your way, but she forgave you for the moment. Instead, she reached over and grabbed your phone that you had left on the blanket.

Thanks to Enid’s teachings, she found the app she was looking for and started searching. You finally stopped mid-cleanup as you looked at her with furrowed brows. More than once you tried to lean over to see what she was doing, but each time she would pull the phone away and hide it from your sight. Each time, you let out a huff before continuing cleaning up.

“Stand up,” Wednesday said once you were done and she had found what she was looking for.

You gave her a look filled with suspicion, but stood up anyway. She pressed “play” on your phone and set it back down on the floor, standing directly in front of you as the waltz played through the speakers. With a “deer in the headlights” look on your face, you let Wednesday position you properly.

“Do as I say.” You gulped audibly but nodded anyway. She felt your hand grip her waist ever so tightly and she pushed down the excitement at the gesture.

Waltz after waltz played as Wednesday tried oh so desperately to teach you even just the basics of dancing. She guided you slowly, correcting you when necessary and doing her best to keep her patience. It wasn’t that you weren’t trying; the look of pure concentration on your face was proof enough.

You were just so, so horrible at dancing.

“If you correct me on that one more time, I will cry,” you said as soon as Wednesday opened her mouth. She promptly closed it and let go of your hand before stepping back.

She missed the warmth your hand had left on her waist.

“You may be a lost cause,” Wednesday said.

“I know,” you threw your head back and whined. Under your clothes, Wednesday noticed the faint shift of your wings. It gave her a new idea.

“You can repay me for your hopelessness.” You looked at her and blinked once. “Show me how you fly.”

“They’re tucked away,” you said without giving it a second thought.

“Release them.”

“Release them yourself,” you shot back.

“Okay.”

She ignored the look of incredulity on your face as Wednesday stepped forward and pushed your jacket off your shoulders. Her fingers grazed your neck in the process and, for your sake, she pretended not to notice the goosebumps left in their wake. Although she certainly noticed the way you were looking at everything but her even though your hand rested naturally on her waist.

Thankfully that meant you couldn’t see the shake in her fingers as she started unbuttoning your shirt. In return, she also pretended not to notice the blush creeping up your neck as she went down your shirt button by button, her own anxiety making it a slow process. A silent sigh escaped her when she saw you were at least wearing an undershirt beneath the straps of the harness.

“I think you just wanted to take my shirt off,” you said with a strangled chuckle followed by your body tensing up underneath her fingers.

She stopped her movements and looked up at you through her eyelashes; you looked utterly mortified. Your eyes were closed and you were biting your lip so hard Wednesday almost thought she could see blood. Why did you look like that, like you were in pain? You were correct, she wanted to take your shirt off, it was the only way to reach the harness for your wings. What part of that was so painful?

You were too stuck in your own head to even look at her, so she used that time to push your shirt off your shoulders and unbuckle the harness. It fell to the ground as your wings practically sprang out, stretching out completely before tucking back around your shoulders in what Wednesday could only describe as a protective stance. A look of relief flooded over your face as your wings moved, finally free.

“Do they hurt?” Wednesday asked before she could stop her own mouth.

“They just get stiff,” you mumbled, finally looking down at her again.

With a look, Wednesday decided you looked completely different when your wings were out. Your shoulders weren’t so hunched and you stood taller. Why would you keep them put away if it was clearly uncomfortable? The furs had no choice in their transformations, but you had a choice in keeping them free or not. What could have possibly happened to convince you that they needed to stay put away?

It truly was a tragedy to see such things tucked away for no one to see. There was such power in them, yet they appeared to be so incredibly delicate. They moved as if they had a mind of their own, and maybe they did. As the feathers ruffled and they wrapped around both you and Wednesday, she determined she wanted to know everything about them.

“Wednesday,” you whispered. She looked up at you, her breath catching in her throat at how close you were.

Only when she felt your free hand cover hers did she realise she still had her hands where your harness had been buckled. If she focused, she could feel your heart racing in your chest, begging to escape. That flush on your neck had spread to your cheeks and oh, your face was terribly close. So close she could see the little scar running through the right side of your top lip.

She couldn’t bring herself to look away from your lips. Not even when she felt your hand cup her face so gently, pull her flush against you as if you thought she would break. Nor when your fingers scratched lightly against her cheek it was torture. Or when you leaned down so slowly, so close that she could feel your quick breaths on her lips. All Wednesday had to do was stand up on her toes and she could-

-*bang!*

Wednesday blinked once when your body tensed underneath her. Her feet stumbled over each other when you pulled her closer, all gentleness gone as you held her tight. Being so close, with your wings wrapped around her, she couldn’t see your face properly. All she knew was you were looking around frantically, scanning every inch of the building for the sound.

Another shot echoed in the air, and Wednesday didn’t even have time to think of what it could be before you grabbed her tight and sprang into the air. Something loud and shrill rang in her ears as she clutched your shirt in tight fists. The chilled wind rushed past her face and the ground was not beneath her feet and she couldn’t tell what was up or down and she was panicking.

The ground rushed up to meet her feet and she stumbled as soon as your arms loosened around her waist. Her vision was swimming and you were saying something but she didn’t know what, she just knew she needed a moment. Maybe a few moments. She went to step back and felt the ground fall away once again before your fingers tangled in her jacket and pulled her back into you forcefully.

“Quit moving,” you said. No, it was an order, how unusual for you. “Just give it a minute.”

But it wasn’t going away, and Wednesday was giving it all the minutes she could spare. She couldn’t tell where she was, the ground was still pitching beneath her, everything was moving, she wasn’t even sure if she was standing upright. All she knew was your hands were in her jacket and your wings were around her and she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.

“Ground yourself.” You grabbed her hands and placed them on your chest again, and though she would kill you if you brought it up, she instinctively pressed closer until she could feel your heartbeat underneath. “Focus and breathe.”

There was no way she was going to look up at you and let you see her internal discombobulation. But she gave in and did as you said, focusing on the beat of your heart underneath her fingers. The gentle comforting rhythm gave her no doubt it would easily lull someone to sleep. Against every instinct in her body, against everything her brain was screaming at her, she let her head fall forward until she could rest her head above your heart.

It sounded like home.

“You good?” You asked once Wednesday’s breathing had evened out and she could finally open her eyes without severe vertigo.

She pulled back until she could look up at you. Your brows were furrowed and you were giving her the best smile you could muster, but she knew concern when she saw it. Good, she hoped you were concerned. Whatever you had just done to her was horrible and unsettling and she was mad at you. It had made her seem weak and foolish and you were looking at her too softly.

“What did you do?”

“I- I panicked,” you mumbled. “Brought us up to the canopy.”

Ah. That explained it. The queasiness, the vertigo, her stomach jumping up into her throat. It had been your fault. Though, she would admit, your reaction speed was noteworthy. The shot had barely reached her ears before you had made your move, and she could see how it would be admirable.

You looked guilty, almost like a child who had gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. But Wednesday could see the way your wings still stayed near her even if they had to stretch further. She could see the way your hands were still subconsciously reaching toward her. Why? If you had thought there was a threat, you had reacted appropriately.

“Thank you.” A large exhale escaped your lips as you finally looked back at her. “But never do that again.”

“About that…” you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Don’t,” Wednesday warned, but you smiled sheepishly at her.

“It’s the only way to get down,” you said. Wednesday sighed.

“I hate you.”

[sangyeonsmuse]

ONE OF THE GIRLS | DAY 6

PAIRING Lead Singer Hyunjae x Dj Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.7k

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️

SUMMARY Jaehyun was used to getting his way when it came with women, but unfortunate enough for him, you were making him work for it that night.

MORE | Day six of the Groupie Love Series

Hyunjae was used to getting whatever he wanted, he was used to girls falling at his feet and praising him, begging and pleading to go back home with them even if it was for one night alone, they just wanted to be one of his girls. So when he entered the after party and his eyes landed on you at the dj booth with your perfect hair and your omweekend set that hugged your curves just right he knew he had to get you wrapped around his finger just like all the others. The only issue with that being you were the type to make a man work for it.

It was Saturday night and his best friend Kim Younghoon had been throwing an after party after having just performed at his final show of the tour season. Making his way inside his eyes scanned over the many options in the room, amidst his search his eyes landed on Eric who had been leaned over the counter laughing with some girl that he must have just met tonight, he figured since had never seen her with him before.

“Nice one Eric.’’ Slowly, but surely his gaze landed on you at the dj booth and all of the other women in the room immediately ceased to exist, tonight he’d have you.

Just like Hyunjae you had been a good friend of Younhoons, the two of you had known each other when you were younger but met one another again at a celebrity event a few years back and you both hit it off so well, so well that he had not only called upon you to dj most of his parties, but you also owned copyrights to most of his bands older songs. You had been used to this whole party scene by now and you absolutely lived for it. The flashing lights, the loud music and smell of alcohol combined with a hint of weed and cigarette smoke. It was the only life you’d ever known since the day you decided upon becoming a dj. Of course it wasn’t like you needed to do anything after all you were pretty much a nepo baby so your name and face had been amongst the bright lights long before you decided to start your career. Having been the daughter of one of the hottest music companies in the city, you could have easily decided to do nothing with your life but that life was not meant for you. Maybe the younger you wouldn’t have minded settling down somewhere letting daddy dearest pay all the bills, but as an adult you loved the feeling of making your own money with a career you loved. You were certainly a career girl, yes you loved the parties and the thrill of adventure, but one line you’d never cross was mixing business with pleasure your career always came first. To anyone that knew you were practically untouchable, everyone that knew your name was well aware. Everyone except for Lee Hyunjae, though it’s not like that would have stopped him from pursuing you anyways.

Hyunjae wasted no time pushing past the ongrowing crowd and making his way over to the dj booth where you stood seemingly looking through your setlist. He watches as you pull your headphones from your ears and slip them around your neck.

“If you’re here to request the next play I already have fifty other people asking the same thing, it’s a fixed setlist.” Hyunjaes' brows raise in pure amusement , did you really think that he was just some regular wanting to request a song?

“I’m not really interested in what gets played tonight but i’d talk about music all night if that’s what it takes for me to get your number by the end of the night.’’ at his words you simply laughed and leaned down to face him over your booth. His eyes of course not so subtly landed on your chest taking in the view as if it was some sort of art displayed at a museum.

“Do lines like those often work for you?’’

“Well no usually all it takes is a look.’’ Hyunjaes sly remark and obvious smirk makes your eyes roll back

“Well maybe you should test it out on one of the other pretty ladies here, I'm sure one of them is bound to fall for your unspoken charm, but I'm not one of them.” you respond back, sarcasm laced within your tone as you blew him off before locking your eyes back onto your computer screen.

“I don’t know, I think I'd rather stay and keep you company,no one here seems to pique my interest the way you do right now.”

“Fascinating , another line i’m sure you used time and time again.” Hyunjae simply chuckles at your dismissive attitude, he wasn’t used to being blown off like you had been doing right now, shooting down his effort line after line. Though he wasn’t mad at it, he liked the thrill of having to warm you up to him, it would make it all the more attractive to have you on your knees begging for him after having been rejected by you time and time again.

“Since, you’re gonna be stalking me the entire night might as well tell me your name.’’ you speak absentmindedly as your eyes remain glued to your setlist.

“Lee hyunjae, lead singer of Wolfsbane.’’

“Ah so you’re one of Younghoons friends, explains a lot?’’

“Oh? Care to share?”

“Younghoon himself is pretty full of himself sometimes, no surprise that someone with lines like yours is associated with him.’’

“You sound like you know him pretty well?’’

“I’ve known him since diapers, i think i'm far past just knowing him ‘pretty well’.’’

“So Younghoons been keeping you to himself all this time then, of course he would be the one to keep someone as beautiful as you to himself.’’

“You just keep these lines coming don’t you?’’ Hyunjae finally seemed to gain a smile and a soft laugh from you at his persistence, it wasn’t much to go off of , but he considered it a win.

“Happy to know I can bring a smile to those beautiful lips.’’ Although he was satisfied with having made you laugh, Hyunjae couldn’t help but wonder what else he could get you to do with those pretty lips of yours.

To your surprise Hyunjae had kept his word when he said that he would stick by the booth the entire night, only ever leaving it to grab drinks for the two of you or use the restroom. You have to admit compared to the many other guys you’d turn down, out of every one of them Hyunjae was quite persistent. Halfway through the party you had been showing Hyunjae the controls to your setup when a one of the part goers drunk off their ass decided it was a good idea to come up on the booth for a dance which ended in them spelling their drink on your shirt and Hyunjae having to stop you from kicking their ass on the spot. Hyunjae of course found it hot seeing how riled up it had gotten , but he knew no god would come out of whooping the idiots ass when he was already drunk off it. As his arms wrapped around your waist and scooped you back up to the booth he found himself holding you there a little longer than he should have, an action that went unnoticed by you

“I’m sure younghoon has something you could borrow in his room one sec.’’ Hyunjae slips away from you for a moment asking Eric who was now soaking wet since the last time he saw him for reasons he didn’t even bother to ask.

“You mind looking after the DJ booth for a minute? And please don’t touch anything.’’

“Sure thing.’’

Moments later Hyunjae returned to the booth with eric who you were a little skeptical about leaving behind to look after your equipment, but in the moment it was either stand here the entire night smelling like pineapple and tequila, or trust that Hyunjae had found someone suitable enough to look after your stuff. Obviously you chose the latter, following Hyunjae as he pushed past the crowd and up the staircase into what you assumed was Younghoons bedroom.

“I’ll find you something and just take your shirt down to the laundry room before the night ends.’’

While you made your way into the bathroom , Hyunjae rummaged through Younghoons closet to find something suitable for you to wear. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he went through it all and happened to find some girls' clothes amongst his own. Just as he suspected he ended up finding a white crop top and woman's skirt. Hyunjae made his way out of Younghoons closet finally having found something for you to throw on but was stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes landed on you emerging from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your body and water trickling down your neck.

“Did you find anything?’’

At this point Hyunjae had no longer been listening to a word you were saying, he was too busy taking a mental image of you stood right before him in nothing, but a towel.

“hyunjae?’’

“Fuck this.’’ Throwing the clothes he had just found off to the side he wasted no time walking up to you and smashing his lips against yours, pushing you dead against the glass window behind you. Before you knew it he had pulled your towel off and threw it somewhere on the other side of the room. His hands roamed your body as if he had been trying to memorize every dip and curve. His lips hungrily kissing and sucking at your soft and supple lips that had felt even softer than he imagined they would.

“Hyunjae wait- we can’t.’’ his hand immediately made its way to your neck, silencing you almost instantaneously and making you press your thighs together, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“We can't, what baby? You’ve been turning me down all night now look at you a complete mess when i haven’t even touched you yet. What happened to not falling for my charm sweetheart?’’ he was entirely right, the entire time you had been turning him down and now that he had you cornered her the only thing you could think about was the ache between your thighs.

“On your knees princess, i wanna see how you look with your pretty lips wrapped around me baby.’’

“But- someone might see.’’

“I don’t care let them, I want them to see who’s got you like this, looking all pretty and vulnerable. Want them to know just how pretty you look all fucked out, lips swollen and know that i’m the only one that can get you.’’

The more he spoke the more you felt like every thought in your head had turned to mush. While holding eye contact with him you slowly but surel kneel down before him.

“Good girl, look how well you’re listening now.’’ Flashing his lower stomach as he busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. You find yourself vaguely scandalized at the sight. His cock is just as pretty as his fingers. He slowly, steadily tilts your head up. When he draws back, you lean in insistently, ignoring a little shiver on his part at how close your face gets. You find your mouth running dry at the glimmer of a tiny drop of pre-cum at the tip of his cock, at least before it gets swept away by his fingers.

“Open.” You obediently open your mouth, sticking out your tongue and letting a wine spill from your lips as he slides his finger from your tongue allowing you to taste him for the first time.

His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he holds your face. You watched the way his face contorts as he shoved himself past your lips ignoring the way you gag and choke on him. The flat of your tongue presses to the tip, and you find yourself moaning at the way his whole body seems to flinch. A hum vibrates in his chest. Your mouth envelops his cock, and Hyunjae grips hard at your hair, fisting it up into a ponytail. He stops making noise altogether as your lips venture mid-way, holding his breath while you pause to run your tongue against the underside. Then, when you hollow your cheeks and pull back up, a ragged sound escapes his throat. Pre-cum spurts over your tastebuds. Sinking down, you take him deeper with each bob of your head, building into a steady, consistent rhythm which drives Hyunjae all the more mad.

“Fuck You look so pretty, your pretty lips sucking on me like a desperate little thing even with tears in your eyes.”

Low growls hit your ears when he begins to buck his hips up to meet your mouth, gripping tighter onto your dark locs he mercilessly fucks deep into your mouth hitting the back of your throat over and over again without considering for your gags and chokes. He thought you looked the prettiest right now, the image of you with a mouthful of his cock and tears running down your sweet face was all he needed to see to know he wouldn’t be going easy on you tonight.

“You’re doing so good baby, just a little longer for me yeah?” At this point the way you were taking him had him seeing stars. It wasn’t until he looked down at you to see your big beautiful eyes looking up at him so desperately that his hips began to falter and you took over once again knowing he was close to release. Watching the way you sucked and slurped on his cock was enough to push him over the edge. Hyunjaes

cum flows down your throat, giving you a surge of energy.

“Fuck you look so beautiful.” Not giving you any room to breathe his lips smashed onto yours as he lifted you up from the floor and presses you stairs the glass of the window.

lifting your hips he watches the expression on your face contort as he slides into you. He began to thrust into you with feverish intent, loving the way you cried out at how he stretched and opened you up. The sound of skin smacking masking your cries. He’s hot and pulsing deep inside of sending jolts of pleasure up your spine that make your eyes roll back. His hands grip your hips, and his cock fills you up properly, the dark bedroom only full of the sounds of sex and his eyes downcast on your form taking in every detail of your fucked out frame.

“Look at you, all drunk and fucked out on my cock, i bet you don’t even care in the slightest that anyone could be watching us from outside right now is that right princess?”

“N-no, f-fuck hyunjae.” He's giddy at the way you moan out his name and his hand immediately takes its rightful place around your throat.

“How about we give them a different view, yeah!” Pulling out of you he turned you around, bending you over so that you were facing the window having an exact view of Younghoons backyard where a few of the guests had been standing around.

“Let them see how pretty you look taking my cock baby, so fucking pretty.”

Without warning he shoves back into you from behind pulling you close to his chest and wrapping his hand tightly around your neck as he drilled into you. His skin is heated and feverish against yours and you allow his body to stick to yours with the sweat beading off his chest. You squeeze around him, earning another one of those sweet moans from him that fluttered your stomach every time you hear it. As you felt him twitch inside of you there was a burning sensation enveloping the inside of your stomach, as you came around his cock he came for the second time that night, his cum completely coating your walls, anything that corner fit dripping right out of your cunt and onto your thighs.

[heartbreakprincehbk]

is there anyway that you can write a dating headcannon for kevin? thank you for all your work it’s literally all so good🙏

Kevin is not perfect, but he tries harder than any man to be. He takes every commitment in life seriously, and being a partner is definitely something he holds in high esteems.

Kevin would meet you away from his hometown while he’s on the road for wrestling. He was in your area for about two weeks, and while exploring the sights on a day off, he would see you in one of the shops.

It would be unlike anything he’s ever felt or experienced; his world would just stop and all there was to him was you, standing oblivious to his stare.

He would continue to watch you, going back and forth in an argument with himself about whether or not to approach you.

Finally, just as it appeared you were about to leave, he would hurry after you.

“Hey!” You would look at him in alarm, this very buff man yelling would throw you off, but he would immediately apologize in that soft voice of his.

“Sorry. I, uh…I just wanted to catch you before you left.”

His smile is so warm and kind and unassuming, so even if you normally wouldn’t, you asked him what you could do for him. From there, he would almost sheepishly admit he was in town for “work” and unfamiliar with the area. He would ask where’s the best local food joint, and that’s how you sat side by side in a booth eating cheeseburgers.

A whirlwind of two weeks would ensue. You offered your services for the rest of his time in your town. Kevin wouldn’t admit immediately what his “work” was, afraid it would scare you away.

He would fall so FAST, but he would keep telling himself to calm down and try to play it cool. He just thinks you’re the most interesting person he’s ever met. He loves your mind and outlook on life and how he always felt infinitely happier with you.

Every day was like a new adventure. It felt like an entire lifetime had been lived by the end of each day—museums, landmarks, roller blading, random jeep tours and sightseeing, hiking, antique shops.

He was so nervous to admit he was a wrestler, but his time in your town was coming to an end, and he wanted to invite you to his last match, where he would be pulling off a win. He figured it was now or never and if it wasn’t meant to be, he would be leaving anyways.

You had an inkling Kevin must have been some sort of athlete due to his size as well as his coordination, but wrestler wasn’t something you would have ever guessed.

“I’m a wrestler, okay?” He would say in the same tone as if he were admitting he committed crimes. You would just blink at him like ???

He was happy you didn’t run at least and merely had you sit front row as an explanation. You were absolutely floored watching him; him flying from the top ropes and how strong he was blew your mind. (Plus, he looked very good)

Kevin definitely showed off quite a bit, showing off his best moves and athleticism. Lots of crossbody dives from the top rope, headscissor take downs, flying through the air. He felt so proud afterwards after winning with the claw to see you standing on your feet, clapping and cheering just as ferociously as the seasoned fans.

“This is your real job?” You would ask incredulously, your voice full of so much awe and wonder that he couldn’t help but laugh. All he would do after the match is wrap you in a hug, melting into your arms.

“I really like you, Y/N. Gosh, you just have no clue. I don’t even want to go back anymore; I didn’t want to come here and now I can’t imagine if I hadn’t.” He would tell you the morning of his departure. He wouldn’t let go of the goodbye hug for a long time, and only left when they were doing last calls for his flight.

He would beg you to write him, and you would exchange addresses and phone numbers.

Without planning or agreeing, everything basically turned into a long distant unofficial relationship.

To Kevin, you’re his freedom. There are times he feels trapped and burdened, but whenever he sees you, it’s always a breath of fresh air for him. Suddenly, he remembers he can breathe. Suddenly, there was something to work towards in his life.

You both would write letters every week, never running out of things to talk about. Kevin would call you every night, even when he had matches.

Sometimes when you called, a new brother would answer. You were able to get a flavor of their personalities with each interaction.

“You’re calling for Kevin?” One brother had to repeat twice in great surprise. That one had been Kerry.

“Oh, you must be Y/N. We’ve all heard lots about you.” There would be the sound of rustling, then two people grunting, a loud noise of the phone being dropped, and then finally, Kevin got on the line panting.

“Sorry, that was just Dave messin’ around.”

Kevin would be really protective of you and kind of shield you from his family at first, just like he did with wrestling; he was desperate not to mess anything up and protect what he had. However, eventually you went to visit him in Texas and by this point, his entire family was demanding to meet you.

“If it’s too much just let me know and we can go somewhere just the two of us.” He kept telling you once he picked you up from the airport. “Kevin it’ll be fine! I’ve already talked with your mom on the phone.” “What?” “One day I called and you weren’t there. She’s so nice.”

Kevin was probably more nervous than you. Doris made a great spread for dinner, you joined in with Kevin and his brothers in football, and sat outside in the grass with them, laughing and talking. It went better than expected.

“She’s lovely.” Doris told Kevin when it was just the two of them in the kitchen. He and his mom watched you listen with great interest to Fritz in the living room explain how he got into wrestling, with David and Kerry jumping in with details. Kevin would just smile.

“Yeah…I think she’s the one.”

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Dancing in the Dark

Summary: Bradley was never one for clubs. Flashing lights, dance remixes of the same four songs, and overpriced watered down drinks just weren’t his thing. But you had begged him so prettily to go with you that he couldn’t help but agree. It was exactly as bad as he thought it was going to be, but when he saw how irresistible you looked on the dance floor, he decided to get his revenge in a way that left both of you satisfied but wanting more. 

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: thigh riding, dirty talk, language, exhibitionism 

Word Count: 2900

Notes: This idea entered my head and then simply wouldn’t leave no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. Here’s the end result.

______

Bradley wasn’t one for environments like this. The flashing lights made his head hurt, and the different dance remixes of the same four songs sounded more like screeching or someone getting tone on him than anything else. Not to mention the drinks were overpriced and watered down, and because of the hoards of people, it took forever to get them in the first place. 

You knew he hated it, but had given him that pretty little pout and begged him to go with you anyway. You were going with a few of your friends from college and they were all bringing their significant others. You didn’t want to be the only one flying solo. He had resisted, but then you dropped to your knees in that slinky black dress you had put on for the night and wrapped your red painted lips around him. He was agreeing before he even realized it. 

Getting him to do exactly what you wanted came easy; he was wrapped around your finger, and you both knew it. 

It was his luck at least that you pulled this stunt on the night the DJ was focusing on music he actually liked, 80s and 90s throwbacks pulsing through the dimly lit club. Even if the techno flare that overlaid them made him want to cringe, the familiarity of the lyrics made listening to it more bearable, especially when you had inevitably abandoned him to go dance. 

He did his best to keep track of you in the crowd, but the annoying blonde you insisted was your friend was pulling your group deeper and deeper into the mass of bodies on the overpacked dance floor. He sighed when you finally disappeared from his view and the blonde’s even more annoying blonde boyfriend started talking to him almost immediately, asking about what life was like in the Navy, throwing out every stereotype he’d probably ever heard about the branch, the other two guys quickly joining in with their own takes. He could barely get a word in to answer any of their questions or correct them before they’re firing off some joke about being able to swim that he’d heard a million times before. 

Bradley loved you so much, but the two of you seriously needed to have a conversation about your taste in “friends”, and their taste in men.  

He threw back the rest of his drink, the liquor going down his throat with a pleasant burn. He stood from the booth with a tight, forced smile. 

“Excuse me,” he said. He heard one of the guys calling after him - red head’s boyfriend, he thought - asking to grab him a drink while he was up. Bradley figured the music was loud enough that he could pretend he didn’t hear him. He kept as close to the edge of the room as he could as he weaved his way through toward the bar. It was just as crowded on this side of the club, but at least he was free of forced conversation with people he had no interest in being around. He flagged the bartender down relatively quickly, and when his drink was in hand, he turned toward the dance floor. He had no plans of going back to the booth right away. 

It was almost fascinating, observing all these strangers as they danced and jumped around, some clearly with more rhythm and passion than others. He watched them in amusement, and maybe a little bit of judgment. 

It wasn’t long, though, before his eyes found you, and those feelings melted into something else entirely. Sometimes, it still took Bradley by surprise how, even after two years of dating, just the sight of you could get his heart racing like this. 

The neon strobe lights that filled the club illuminated your body in the dark, and it was almost like you were otherworldly. You had separated from your friends, choosing instead to get lost in the music by yourself, and watching you move captivated him. Your eyes were closed, your hands trailing over your own body, one in your hair and the other running the length of your side. The already hot room felt hotter when your fingertips teased the hemline of your short black dress. He took another sip of his drink as he let his eyes slowly trail back up. When he got to your face, your eyes were open and already on him. 

You crooked a finger, beckoning him to come join you. He saw the little quirk of your lips; you knew what you were doing to him and clearly thought you had the upper hand. It wasn’t a far fetched thought; you often did have the upper hand when it came to him doing what you wanted. But Bradley felt the sudden urge to remind you of the control he had, too.  

With a slight smirk, he shook his head. Your face transformed into that familiar pout that got him into the club in the first place. He did nothing but quirk an eyebrow at you and sip from his glass in return. Your pout deepend while Bradley’s smirk grew. 

You were nothing if not determined, though. Your body never stopped moving and as the song changed to something lower, your movements adjusted to the new rhythm. Even from this far away, he could see that your eyes were dark and hooded. You brought one of those red lips between your teeth and the hand that had been at your side trailed up your stomach to rest on the space between your breasts where your dress didn’t cover. Bradley felt his pants tighten as he watched you. 

You were dancing just for him now, and he was mesmerized.  

His eyes didn’t leave you as your body continued to sway. The flashing lights provided you with a colored spotlight every other beat, and the way it bounced off you almost made you look like you were shimmering. The way you were moving your hands over your exposed skin had him shifting in his seat and running his tongue over his bottom lip; he was hungry for you, but he wanted to make you wait just a bit longer. This slow kind of torture was something both of you enjoyed. 

Once a full song had passed, your head cocked to the side in question. Bradley took the last sip of his drink and set the glass down on the bar top behind him and started moving toward you. Like the tease that you were, though, you smirked at him and moved further into the crowd. Bradley could have rolled his eyes if it weren’t for how turned on he was; he had made you wait, and now you were making him chase you, right into the middle of the dance floor that you knew he didn’t want to be on to begin with. 

You turned your back to him once he drew near. He didn’t hesitate to grab your hips and pull you flush against him. The giggle that had been escaping your mouth turned into a soft moan when you immediately felt how hard he was. You went to turn in his arms to face him, but Bradley held you in place with a large hand on your stomach. The silky material of your dress was cool under his palm. 

“You wanted to dance,” he said in your ear. A shiver ran through your body. “So let’s dance.” 

“Bradley…” 

He didn’t acknowledge you aside from beginning to sway his body behind you. After a shuddering breath, he felt you relax against him as you did the same. Dancing together wasn’t something new for either of you, though the vibe in your shared kitchen as breakfast cooked on the stove was admittedly more lighthearted than what he was feeling now. Still, your bodies moved together, a perfect compliment to the other. You always felt so good against him, no matter the setting. 

The hand that wasn’t pressing you into him by your stomach ghosted up your body. Your head tilted to the side as he pushed your hair out of the way, exposing the column of your throat for him. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent wash over him. He groaned lightly before placing a kiss to the soft skin where your neck met your shoulder. He let his finger slip under the thin strap of your black dress, caressing the skin for a moment before snapping it back into place. You jerked in surprise, and he pressed you closer. He ground against you with more intention this time. Your moan was lost in the loud, pulsing music, as you reached a hand back to thread your fingers through his curls, the other resting over his at your front. 

The music changed again, the beat turning more seductive, and the throbbing neon lights transitioned to something darker. Bradley spared a quick glance around. They were surrounded by bodies on all sides, but the dance floor was so crowded and dark, he could barely make out the faces of those directly next to them. Everyone was so caught up in their own partners and moving to the speakers; nobody seemed to be paying them any attention at all. With that in mind, Bradley moved his lips to your ear. 

“Do you trust me?” he asked. You nodded without even trying to look at him, and if anything, the blind faith you showed him made him even hotter for you. He pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear. “Good girl.” 

The hand that had been settled on your stomach slowly moved south. He grazed where he knew the band of your underwear lay beneath your dress. You gasped, your fingers tightening in his hair. 

“I bet if I were to lift this dress and move those pretty panties of yours to the side, I’d find you wet for me, wouldn’t I?” 

He let his hand slip lower and pressed the pads of his fingers down until he could feel you through the layers of clothing keeping you hidden. He only gave you the pressure for a moment before moving his hand back up. 

“I’m not the only one turned on right now, baby. I can feel you, too,” your words were steady, but he could hear the effort that went into them. You were teetering on that edge of control and he knew it wouldn’t take much more for you to give in. 

Bradley hummed in agreement, holding you still for a moment while he rubbed himself against you, proving your point. 

“You did this to me, pretty girl. Watching you dance for me in this dress? How could I not be hard?” 

He nipped at your shoulder when you were opening your mouth to respond, the words stolen from your mouth with a gasp. He soothed the bite with his tongue before moving to your neck, pressing hot, open mouth kisses to the skin. He wasn’t gentle; he wanted you to walk out of this damn club with marks on your skin, ones that he put there. You moaned out his name, clutching at his hand. He didn’t stop until he was satisfied that the skin would be blooming a pretty bruise. 

“Everyone in this place can see how beautiful you are, but you’re mine, aren’t you?” 

You moaned his name with a nod, and he knew he had you. 

With no warning, he grasped your hips and spun you so you were facing him. You barely had time to gasp out in surprise before he was pressing his mouth to yours. His tongue swiped against the seam of your lips, demanding entrance. You happily complied. He licked into your mouth, tasting the tequila you had drank earlier. Kissing you always made him crave more. 

One of his hands moved down to cup your behind. He squeezed and you rolled your hips into his, chasing friction. His cock throbbed in his jeans. 

He tugged your bottom lip between his teeth when he pulled away. You whimpered and chased after him. Your kiss was hungry and possessive and he matched every ounce of your intensity. 

After one more rough squeeze of your ass, Bradley slid his hand down to your thigh. He groaned into your mouth at the feel of your soft skin once he bypassed the hemline of your dress. He rubbed back and forth in the way that always made you flush and shiver before he moved you enough to slot his leg in between both of yours. He pulled you impossibly closer, dragging your wet core against the rough denim. The sudden stimulation is enough to have you pulling your lips from his, gasping for air. Your lips were swollen and your chest heaved as you fought to fill your lungs. Your eyes were glazed as they met his in question, but even then, you didn’t hesitate to roll your hips with a soft whimper. 

“That feel good, baby?”

You nodded, but your eyes left his to glance around. Bradley clicked his tongue in disapproval and guided your gaze back to him with a bounce of his leg. “Don’t look at them. You look at me. Does it feel good?”

“So good,” you breathed, so low he almost couldn’t hear you as the music pounded through the speakers. Your hips circled again and he smirked. “Please, Bradley. Please.”

“Mmm, I got you,” Bradley hummed in approval. He flexed the thick, corded muscle between your legs and your head lolled to the side again as your eyes fluttered closed. 

Throngs of people were grinding and moving together around them, hands roaming over their partners, pressed just as close together as the two of you were. But he wondered what the two of you looked like right now, in the middle of it all. You were practically straddling his thigh as the two of you danced. It was indecent, but it was thrilling, too, knowing that only he could get you like this. He hadn’t been intending to take it all the way; he had been planning simply to rile you up as a punishment for making him come to this damn place at all. But now, bringing you pleasure in this crowd of people who were completely unaware of what was happening, was all he wanted. 

He could tell you were itching for it, too. 

“Does this turn you on? Grinding on my thigh like this in front of all of these people?” 

You whimpered, one hand clutching his shirt while the other tugged at his curls. Your face found the crook of his neck and he could feel you practically panting. The little puffs of air against his skin mixed with the needy sounds falling from your lips had his head swimming.

“I can feel you soaking through my jeans already. You’re so fucking filthy, you know that?” 

With a hand on your hip, Bradley helped rock you back and forth. He really could feel your wetness seeping through to his skin. The flimsy material of your underwear had to be molded to you at this point. You ground your hips down at the same time he tensed the muscle you were dragging yourself against and your body gave a hard jerk he was all too familiar with that happened any time he touched your clit. He smirked in delight, doing it again. 

“Can feel you throbbing, baby. I know you want to come - I know you need it. So do it, dirty girl. Soak my thigh. Come for me right now for everyone to see.” 

Your movements sped up a little, and Bradley’s grew harsher in return. As the song playing reached its crescendo, so did you. Your back arched and your teeth sunk into his neck to keep from screaming, but he tugged your head back with a hand in your hair so he could bring your lips to his. Your mouths connected in a filthy kiss of tongue and teeth and he swallowed your moans as you trembled in his arms, riding out your orgasm. You whined into his mouth when you entered the realm of oversensitivity and he pulled away slowly. Your red lipstick was practically nonexistent now, your eyes glazed over and fucked out; you were breathtaking. 

He moved his leg, giving you the reprieve you were looking for. He kept you wrapped in his arms, swaying again like everyone else, as you caught your bearings. 

“You didn’t make a great case of me not dragging you out with me anymore,” you breathed out. “That was so fucking hot.” 

“Mmm,” Bradley hummed, trailing kisses from your nose all the way to your ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth before he whispered to you, his voice still rough and low with want. He pushed his center into yours once so you could feel how hard he still was. “The next time you try to get me to come to this place, I’m tying you to the bed, and neither of us are leaving.” 

------

Notes: Hope you liked it! Likes/comments/reblogs always mean the world. Thanks to Mak and Em for reading over it as per usual💚

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 8: Crash And Burn]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, discussions of sex, actual sex (18+ readers only), near-death experiences, health crises, hospitals, questionable tattoos, trout with Trent.

Word count: 6.7k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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“He broke up with me.” Kimmie hasn’t taken a single sip of her Miller Lite. She’s staring right past you and Heather, her eyes glassy puddles shimmering with reflections of multicolored Christmas lights. It’s Monday, December 13th, and Dale’s stereo is playing Queen’s Thank God It’s Christmas. You’re in the usual booth and waiting for the boys to get off work. Outside the frosted windows is an ocean of darkness punctuated by narrow aisles of murky streetlight luminescence. “He actually broke up with me.”

Heather snaps her fingers in front of Kimmie’s face. “Uh, Kimmie, Earth to Kimmie, yeah, can you give us a little more exposition, please? When exactly did this happen?”

“Yesterday,” Kimmie says, slightly more present now. “He’d been weird since the hike, super depressed, super boring…he wasn’t even interested in doggie style, and he loves doggie style!”

“Boundaries, Kimmie,” Heather pleads.

“So he called me to come over last night and I went to see him and he was…like…sitting on his couch with his hands folded in his lap like it was a freaking job interview. And he explained that he thought I was totally great and that we’d had a lot of fun together but now he had to break things off for personal reasons.”

“Wow, personal reasons, wow,” Heather muses. She doesn’t turn to look at you, but she does kick your boot under the table. You pretend not to notice.

“Wow,” Joyce echoes wryly, flipping a page in her current fantasy novel. There’s some stately prince on the front cover: crown, sword, shield, long flowing hair like a river of white gold.

“I don’t even care that much,” Kimmie realizes as she’s saying it. “I mean, it was nearing its expiration date anyway. I’m going to get back together with Brad, Aegon’s going to presumably resume sleeping his way through Juneau…or maybe try out taking a vow of celibacy, who knows, he’s been very monkish the past few days. He can be fun sometimes, and I like him, and I wish him all the best, but there’s no future for us. I just realized that he’s the first guy who ever broke up with me instead of the other way around. It feels…not great!”

“Congratulations, you’re a mortal,” Joyce says, not looking up from her book.

“So you wouldn’t care if Aegon got with someone else?” Heather asks Kimmie innocently. This time, you kick Heather. She winces but bites back a hiss of pain.

Kimmie considers this, finally taking a swig of her I’m-a-cool-girl-who-likes-hockey-and-trucks beer. “No, probably not.”

I won’t do it, you vow to yourself with false stoicism, imagined iron you wish you were really made of. I won’t date him, I won’t sleep with him, I won’t fall in love with him. And yet part of you already knows it’s too late. Part of you knows this as if it’s been inked to your skin like the scrawled, secret entries of a journal.

Ursa Minor’s front door bangs open, and what you see when you turn to look doesn’t make any sense. Rob and Trent—both dripping wet, their hair plastered flat to their heads, their boots squeaking on the hardwood floor—rush inside. There are shouts and gasps and people leaping up out of their seats to get a better look. Trent is carrying something over one of his lumberjack-broad shoulders. He kneels to throw it down onto the floor. It’s Aegon: limp, bluish, unconscious.

“Someone call somebody!” Trent bellows. He’s staring down at Aegon in panic, in terror, not knowing what to do. Beads of water run down his face. “An ambulance or 911 or a helicopter…or…or somebody!”

“Got it!” Dale says, darting for the phone behind the bar. Kimmie is shrieking. Joyce is trying to calm her down. And by then, you’re on the floor beside Aegon feeling for a pulse on his carotid. He doesn’t have one. He’s cold and he’s silent and he’s medically dead.

“He fell,” Trent says franticly, helplessly. “We were bringing the boat into the harbor and he got tangled in a net and fell overboard. I pulled him out, but he was underwater for a while and we couldn’t…we couldn’t wake him up…”

“Aegon?!” you scream, shaking him, slapping him across his icy, vacant face. “Aegon, wake up, wake up, please wake up!”

Heather is next to you. “What can I do?”

“Help me get his wet clothes off. Hypothermia.”

She yanks at his boots, his socks, his jeans. “You know how to do CPR, right?”

“Yeah, on a dog!” Still, you have to try. How long can he go without a pulse until he’s braindead? Four minutes? Five? The cold might buy him extra time, but not much. Minutes. You rip off his red flannel shirt; buttons go careening across the wet floor. As you place your palms over his heart, you notice—fleetingly, dazedly, like sloshing through a dream—that he has a scattering of scars on his chest, gashes and punctures and knicks…and two tattoos. There is a dragon spiraled around his right collarbone. Just below his left, there are three words written in light, graceful cursive: I’m a killer.

You start chest compressions. How many am I supposed to do on a human? Ten? Twenty? You can’t remember. You’re sobbing; you aren’t sure when that started, but it’s in full force now. Heather mops the tears from your face with her sleeve so you can see.

He’s going to die, you think. He’s going to die lying on the floor of this bar in his boxers, and he will never tell me anything again, and he will never see his family again, and he will never get better. The channel killed Jesse and now it’s killed Aegon too.

“Is he dead?!” Kimmie yelps from across the room. “Please tell me he’s not dead!”

Heather hurls back: “You’re going to be dead if you don’t shut up! Let her work on him!”

You tilt Aegon’s head back, lift his chin, pinch his nose shut. Then you exhale into him. You can taste the dark ancient salt of the sea on his cold lips…but beneath that there is rum as well. He shouldn’t have been drinking that much at work. He doesn’t usually. What’s different? What’s been bothering him? But you think you know the answer to that.

There’s nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Aegon’s chest rises and he rolls onto his side, choking out torrents of seawater and gasping for air. People are cheering and chattering, but you barely hear them.

“Oh my god!” you cry out, and if you were sobbing before now you’re properly bawling, breathless and hysterical. It’s uncontrollable, you can’t seem to stop. You cling to Aegon as he shivers violently and peers around with half-open, profoundly confused blue eyes, warming him with your own body heat, turning his flesh from blue to white to pink.

“Go get coats and stuff to warm him up,” Heather says to Trent, shoving him away. And you do actually need coats…but also, you think, Heather is trying to get rid of her brother. Because it should be obvious to anyone what’s going on here; it should be obvious to anyone that you’re in love with this white-blond man on the floor who not so very long ago was a stranger.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon rasps, pawing clumsily at your face as if to comfort you, almost poking your eyes out in the process. And then he asks, with genuine confusion: “What the hell are you crying about?”

You start laughing, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “You, idiot. I’m crying about you.”

“I’m fine, Appletini,” he croaks. “Shh. Shh. Stop. No crying.”

“I thought you were dead, I thought…I thought…”

“I’m not that easy to kill,” Aegon says, his eyes dipping shut. Outside in the blackness somewhere, there are sirens whirling. Trent returns with an armful of coats and together you pile them on top of Aegon, burying him in a tomb of L.L.Bean and Patagonia and The North Face. “Trust me. I know.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Obviously, the hospital won’t let Aegon have rum and Cokes. He pushes his morphine button almost constantly, even though the doctors and nurses tell him he’s already maxed out. They began by keeping Aegon overnight for observation, and then he developed pneumonia, and then the first type of antibiotics didn’t work and they had to play roulette until they found one that did. Now it’s a full week later—December 20th—and Aegon is finally feeling like himself again and is due to be released tomorrow. Sunfyre has been staying with you and your parents. He loves it, he gets constant attention and enjoys gazing out the window to see if his new best friend the cow moose will show up. Meanwhile, Trent has convinced his boss Rusty—another high school classmate of your parents, another hulking bearded specimen of the enmeshed Juneau ecosystem—to let Aegon keep his job despite the extended leave; Trent even managed to get Aegon paid time off for the first five days. This is all rather heroic of him. It makes you feel bad for thinking he might be a serial killer. If Trent knows that Aegon was drunk on the job, he hasn’t mentioned it to anybody.

“I got you something,” Aegon tells you when you get off work. It’s just after sunset, the last whisps of pink and lilac dusk vanishing from the sky. Things have been slow at the vet clinic as Christmas draws near, which is good in that you can leave early and visit Aegon more often. It’s bad because you’re less busy, less preoccupied; you have all the time in the world to think about him. Aegon is propped up in bed on pillows—his hair slicked back from his face, his eyes sleepy and racoonish—and wearing a hospital gown that’s too big for him. You can see his collarbones and his tattoos, though you’re trying very hard not to stare, to wonder. He points to the table beside his bed. There’s a bouquet of blue roses lying there.

“For me?!”

“For the person who literally brought me back from the dead? Yeah, I don’t think it’s too extravagant.”

You give him one of the hot chocolates you bought from the hospital cafeteria. It’s not as good as his, obviously, but it’s better than nothing. He clutches the Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam rolling up into his face. He inhales the scent, closes his eyes, sighs deeply with a smile. “I hope they aren’t stolen,” you say about the roses, only half-kidding.

“They’re from the gift shop. I dragged myself down there after lunch. They really weren’t that expensive, I think the cashier gave me a still-attached-to-an-IV discount.”

“Was she cute?”

“She was eighty years old.”

You laugh and sit down in the chair beside his bed, sipping your own hot chocolate: thin, watery, weak. You admire the roses, threading velvety cerulean petals through your fingers. “I love them, really, but I wish you wouldn’t buy things for me. I know you’re chronically short on money. And I am somehow skeptical that you have health insurance. Do you have health insurance?”

He grins toothily. “Nope.”

“Aegon,” you lament.

“It doesn’t matter. They’ll bill me, I’ll never pay, it’s all made up.”

“You might need a halfway decent credit score one day.”

He shakes his head. “I’m never going to try to get a mortgage. I’m never going to apply for a job at a bank or a law firm. I’ll be fine. I’ll live in a tree if that’s what it takes.”

You rest your palm against his cheek and then his forehead, checking for fever. His skin is warm but not hot, pale but not bloodless. You can feel his eyes on you, trying to catch your gaze like a hook through a fish. You avoid them.

“How do I look, vet lady?”

“I’m not really qualified to evaluate humans.”

“I don’t want to get better.”

Now you do stare at him, direct and mystified. “Why?”

“I’m worried you won’t be nice to me anymore.”

You chuckle, relieved. “I’ll still be nice to you, Aegon.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

A nurse pops into the room, young and springy and jovial like a kitten. She must be new; you don’t recognize her, and you’ve been here a lot. “Good afternoon, I’m just swinging by to take your vitals. I see you’re scheduled to go home tomorrow, how exciting!” The nurse squints down at the chart she has pinned to a clipboard. “Aegon…?”

He smirks long-sufferingly. “It’s Greek.”

“It’s lovely!” the nurse recovers. She measures his temperature and heartrate and blood pressure, his reflexes and his oxygenation. He passes all inquiries with flying colors. She congratulates Aegon on his recovery and flits off to tend to more needy patients. You think of the nights you’ve spent curled up in this chair, listening to Aegon’s labored, rattling breathing and watching blooms of flare-hot crimson fever creep across his face. You think of how much it’s going to kill you to lose him someday. You find yourself staring at his tattoos, ink that someone else put there in some other city, remnants of the life he had before.

“You can ask,” Aegon says. “I’m sure you’re wondering.”

You set your hot chocolate on the table and move closer to him, ghosting your fingertips over the words: I’m a killer. He jolts a little, although not in a bad way, not in an unwelcome way. He doesn’t lean away from you. In fact, he leans in. “What’s up with that?”

“Would this be an awkward moment for me to confess that I’m the Ice Fisher?”

You smile. “You have to admit that it’s a little weird. There’s a killer on the loose, you have a tattoo that says you’re a killer, I think any reasonable observer would have questions.”

“Kimmie didn’t.”

“Reasonable observer, I said. Reasonable.”

“It’s not a confession. It’s a Johnny Cash lyric.”

“Really? Which song?” You know a fair amount of Johnny Cash thanks to your dad’s extensive vinyl collection. You skim through his discography in your head: Walk The Line, Ring Of Fire, Get Rhythm, Folsom Prison Blues, I Got Stripes. You can’t remember any of them having that line. It circles around in your skull, only sounding like Aegon’s voice: I’m a killer, I’m a killer.

“I’ve Been Everywhere,” he says. “It’s a cover, actually. Some other guy did it first. But I didn’t know that when I got inked. And I loved Johnny Cash’s version when I heard it. It was like my theme song.”

“Ohhh, right, that’s the one where he lists all the cities he’s been to, like Reno, uh, and Chicago, and, uhhh…”

Aegon sings, deep but hoarse: “Fargo, Minnesota, Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow, Sarasota, Wichita, Tulsa, Ottawa, Oklahoma, Tampa, Panama, Mattawa, La Paloma—” He breaks off with a coughing fit.

“Stop,” you beg, laughing. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself.” You trace the cursive letters lightly. I’m a killer. I’m a killer. “Kimmie never had questions about that?”

“I don’t think Kimmie really sees me. She just sees adjectives in the shape of my silhouette. But you…” He puts his hand over yours, pinning it to his chest. You can feel his heart under there somewhere, beneath muscles and bones and a pitch-black sea crawling with monsters that have evolved to live in the extreme gravity, in the depths: ghosts of the past and sirens of the future. He smiles. “You see a lot.”

“20/20, baby.” You study his scars. They’re random like a scatterplot, none large enough to appear life-threatening. “How did you get these?”

“Car accident. A long time ago.”

“Before you left Miami?”

He gazes absently out the window, where snow is falling. You can see it drifting down to the earth in the gloomy beams of streetlights. “Yeah.”

Now there are new lyrics bubbling up in your mind, not anything by Johnny Cash but Cake’s The Distance. No trophy, no flowers, no flashbulbs, no wine, he’s haunted by something he cannot define. And perhaps you know something about what that feels like. “Do you really think I’m a coward?” you ask softly. “I know you’re trying not to lie to me. So I’m hoping you’ll tell me the truth. You might be the only person who will.”

Aegon pauses before he answers. “I think a lot of people are cowards in one way or another,” he says diplomatically. “And I think that if that’s your greatest flaw as a human—that you don’t want to disappoint your parents, that you don’t want to hurt them, that you want to repay them for being so wonderful when there are people out there who beat and murder their kids—you turned out alright.”

You think of how easy it would be to rest your head on his bare, scarred chest and let him hold you. You think of how much you want that, want it in a sudden and ravenous and unbearable sort of way. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“No problem, Appletini.”

There is a knock on the door, and you jerk away from Aegon. You pick up your hot chocolate and slurp it as you sink into the chair. Aegon laces his hands together and wrings them. Trent walks in. “Sup, bro?!” he pipes cheerfully.

“Bro,” Aegon offers in return. They bump fists.

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I definitely am.”

“Still getting let out tomorrow?”

“Yup. Like a prisoner who made parole. Kimmie already offered to drive me home.” Then he adds: “Platonically.” Kimmie’s the only one in the friend group without a real job. Her parents are both university professors—you aren’t sure how none of the genius chromosomes made their way down the genetic Plinko board to her, but they didn’t—and she gets paid to be their ‘research assistant’…which means she works rarely and with no accountability whatsoever.

Trent’s eyes dart to you, to the blue roses, to you again, finally back to Aegon. He’s beaming, but there’s something hollow about it, like if you struck him across the face it would crack like porcelain. “Flowers, huh? That’s dope.”

“Yeah, I figured it was the least I could do since she saved my life and all.”

“She’s fantastic,” Trent agrees proudly, like he owns you. “In fact, that’s kind of why I’m here.” He turns to you. “I called the house and your parents told me I should check the hospital. I wanted to…you know, now that Aegon’s basically better and we all know he’s not gonna die…I wanted to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Dinner?” you repeat, stupidly, like you’re unfamiliar with the concept. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, someplace nice. Candlelight and fancy dessert, the whole deal.”

A date. That’s definitely a date. You stare at Trent. He stares at you. Aegon frowns at you both, pressing his knuckles to his lips. “Dinner,” you say awkwardly, but with more conviction. “Totally. Dinner would be nice.”

“Awesome!” Trent thunders. “I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Sounds good!” you say with overcompensating enthusiasm. Trent swoops in for an unexpected hug—nearly spilling your hot chocolate—and gives Aegon a parting fist bump. Then he’s gone.

“I owe him,” you explain to Aegon, speaking quickly, nervously. “He saved your life, he fished you out of the channel like a goddamn salmon. He’s responsible for you keeping your job. He’s getting you paid time off. He’s been around the hospital a lot this week, he’s been so helpful, selflessly helpful…I can’t just tell him to fuck off after all that.” And then you say: “But it’s only dinner! Only one dinner!”

“Need some condoms?” Aegon teases, trying to make you smile. It works. “I have a box I’m not currently using.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Good to know.”

“I doubt your condoms are horse-sized anyway.”

“Hey hey hey, it’s not about the number of inches, it’s about how you use them.”

“I’ve heard some very interesting things. About your inches, I mean.”

“Oh no,” he groans, covering his blushing face with his hands.

“I didn’t say bad things. I said interesting things.”

“I wouldn’t mind you knowing from firsthand experience,” he says with a sly little grin you can’t quite read. It’s playful, it’s sharp, it’s baiting, it’s sad.

“About what?”

“About my inches.”

You both burst out laughing, so hard Aegon launches into another coughing fit. You reach for him instinctively, pressing your hand to his chest again as if you can cure him, not a palm reader but a faith healer. A miracle worker. A professional fixer.

“You think it’s safe?” he asks, seriously now. “Dinner, I mean. With Trent.”

“I think he’d have a hard time strangling me in the middle of a crowded restaurant. And everyone’s going to know we’re hanging out together tomorrow night, he’d have to be more than stupid to kill me. He’d have to be all brainstem, like an alligator or a shark. Besides, he doesn’t want me dead.”

“I know. He wants you to be his wife.” There’s nothing to fill the uneasy lull but the pounding of your own heartbeat. “Call me,” Aegon says abruptly. “When you get home tomorrow night. So I know you’re okay.” So I know you didn’t get murdered. So I know you’re not at the bottom of a lake somewhere.

“What if it’s not until really late? I don’t want to disturb you while you’re recovering.”

He looks out the window: into the frigid void, into nothing. “Still call me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Trent takes you to the Red Dog Saloon, Juneau’s idea of fine dining. You intentionally dress to look not-sexy: dark blue flannel (you’ve warmed to the fabric since Aegon wears it so much) with a T-shirt underneath, jeans, boots, minimal makeup, hair in an I-really-don’t-care messy loose braid. Trent doesn’t seem to notice that this isn’t supposed to be a date. He’s wearing a button-up maroon shirt and khakis. He chats away blithely as you survey the menu. He’s had the servers bring out candles to put on the table. He’s ordered craft beers for you both. You wrinkle your nose and shudder after each thick bitter sip, chasing the beer with desperate gulps of water. Whoever owns the Red Dog Saloon does not share Dale’s devotion to Shania Twain and Christmas music; the stereo is playing Savage Garden’s Crash And Burn.

“Ready to order?” the waitress asks, casting former-football-star Trent a flirtatious smile just in case he’s single. He is! you mentally shout, hoping for telepathy. He just doesn’t know it!

“Yeah,” you begin. “I think I’d like to try your brisket—”

“Oh no, no no no,” Trent says with a chuckle. He flips his hair; in your head, you hear a neigh. “They have a great special. Trout with risotto. How fancy is that?! I don’t even know what risotto is! We gotta try that. We gotta make tonight special.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” You give the waitress a tight smirk as you hand her the menu. “The trout special. Two of them, I guess.”

“You’ll love it,” the waitress promises, tossing Trent another smile like a penny into a fountain. She takes both menus and disappears into the kitchen.

“So,” Trent says, drinking his beer. “I didn’t know you liked Aegon so much. I thought you kind of hated him, actually.”

You shrug, peering into the foam of your unwanted beer. “I don’t like to see anyone suffering. It doesn’t matter who.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“And you encouraged me to get along with him because you want him to stay in Juneau so he can be in your band.”

“Oh yeah, right. Okay, never mind. I was just…curious.” Another hair flip.

“Look, Trent…” You gather your courage like raking up autumn leaves. “We’re friends, right?”

He chortles. “Well, I’d like to think we’re a lot more than that.”

I bet you would. “But we never…like…we never put a label on it, you know?”

“Do you need a label?” he says. You had worried he might be mad; instead, he’s amused. You aren’t sure why that makes you feel worse. “Is that what makes it official, us using the words boyfriend, girlfriend, relationship, whatever?”

“Maybe those words don’t really apply to us, and that’s why we haven’t used them yet,” you try hopefully. “Like, if we were supposed to date, it would feel more natural for us to date. But maybe it doesn’t feel so natural, so we’re better off staying friends.”

Now he puts his beer down and stares at you. The glass thumps against the glossy wood. He’s bending towards you, though you don’t think he’s even aware of it; he props his elbows on the table, his brow crinkling in bewilderment. And there’s something else in the lines of his face too. Anger. Indignation. Betrayal. “You want to be friends?”

“I didn’t say that,” you amend swiftly. “I just said maybe we’re better off as friends.”

He slaps his palm against the table—you flinch, hating that he has that power over you—and laughs in amazement. “I’m just…well, I’m shocked! You’re fine with kissing me, and watching movies in your bedroom, and hanging out all the time, and getting drinks together and playing pool and showing me off to your parents, but you’re horrified by the thought of calling it dating?! You’re too much, ladybug. You’re really too much.”

He's going to pretend he doesn’t see that I want out. And he’s going to keep pretending until he’s on his knees with a fucking ring from Zales. “I don’t think I’m looking for a relationship right now, Trent. With anyone.” Oh, and that’s such a goddamn lie.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

He studies you; but that’s too kind a word for it. His eyes flay you down to the bone. “I’m a good guy, you know.”

“I know,” you lie, nodding agreeably.

“You’re not eighteen anymore,” he says. “It’s not like you have forever to find someone to settle down with. I go to work, I’m popular, I’m presentable, I care about you, I take you on dates, I move your furniture around whenever you fucking ask me to, I’m a good guy. I get that maybe this is progressing a little fast for you, and we can slow down if that’s what you want. But I think it would be pretty stupid to give something like this up. Don’t you?”

It doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like a threat. Don’t you? Don’t you? “You’re right, Trent,” you hear yourself say, like it’s someone else’s voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

The waitress arrives with your dinner and—not so subtly—slips Trent her number. He makes a great show of ripping it up in front of you. The trout and risotto thing is great, actually. It’s not what you walked in wanting, but it turned out just fine. And maybe that’s what the rest of your life will be like too: other people making choices, you hoping you’ll like the taste.

After dinner and dessert—a Baked Alaska, another of Trent’s suggestions that are more like nonnegotiables—he drives you home in his massive rumbling truck. You talk innocuously about your vet clinic clients, dogs and cats and hamsters and reindeer, until you roll to a stop in front of your parents’ house. You begin your goodbye, opening the truck door. Cold December air floods in.

“Okay Trent, thank you for a lovely night—” He cuts you off with a kiss he didn’t ask for, a hand on your face that feels hot and smothering. You’re so stunned it takes you a few seconds to try to push him away. He ignores you until you shove him so hard he can’t pretend not to notice.

“What are you so worried about?” he demands, he implores, like he’ll fix anything if you just name it, like he’ll strike the nails with his bare hands. But he can’t fix what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that I’m in love with Aegon Targaryen. “Are you scared I’ll be bored of you once you give it all up? Are you worried about getting pregnant? Aren’t you on the pill? I saw the pack in your bedroom.”

You’re nauseated that he noticed, that he’s imagined you like that: naked, compliant, vulnerable. “Yes, Trent, but that’s for me, not for you.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

You tell him the truth. Not the whole truth—not enough to enrage him—but the crux of it: the spine, the heart. “I always thought I knew exactly what my life was going to look like, but now I’m…I’m…”

“Well this is what comes next, right?” Trent says. “You check the boxes for school and work, and then it’s time to settle down. Get married, buy a house, have kids. I’m ready to give you that. I want to give you that. Don’t you want it too?”

Aegon is going to leave, you think with steel-cold dread. Sooner or later, he’ll disappear to start over again in some anonymous new city. And what will my life look like then? What will I have when he’s gone? “I guess I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Trent nods, his jaw clenched tight, looking out into the darkness through his windshield. “I’m not criticizing you for waiting. I’m just wondering what the hell you’re waiting for.”

Inside the house is hushed and empty; your parents are enjoying a night out with your dad’s bowling league. They even took Sunfyre with them. You drag yourself upstairs, each step a mile. You brush your teeth—twice—to get the taste of Trent and craft beer out of your mouth. And then you stand in your bedroom surrounded by posters and magazines, surrounded by fantasies that you will never wrap your hands around. You glance at the box full of Jesse’s journals; you can see the cardboard edge of it poking out from beneath your bed. He’s gone, and he wasn’t perfect, in fact in many ways he was a curse, was a plague, was a monster. But I think my mom would give anything for one more day with him. After all these years, I still think she would.

The blue roses Aegon gave you are in a vase on your nightstand, right next to the phone. They’re already dying. And now your throat is burning, and your eyes are wet with tears, and when defenseless sobs rip from your chest there is no one here to hear them. I don’t want to protect myself from what it would have been like with him. I want to know.

You snatch up the phone, find the Post-it note with Aegon’s number written on it, call him before you have time to change your mind. When he answers, it’s clear you woke him up. His voice is slow and groggy. “Hello?”

“Can I come over?”

“Huh…?”

“Can I please come over? I need to come over. I need to come over right now.”

Now he’s awake. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at home, I’m fine, I’m safe, I just…I just…” You swipe the tears from your eyes and take a long, trembling breath. “I just need to come over.”

“No problem,” Aegon says. He is puzzled, he is concerned…but you think a part of him is glad too. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

You drive your Jeep to his apartment building and park it—badly, crookedly, like he would—under a streetlight. The night is fiercely, brutally cold when you dive out into it. The full moon is an island; the indigo, star-flecked sky is an ocean deep with secrets and bones and wreckage, splinters of swallowed lives dissolving into the blue. Upstairs, Aegon’s door is already unlocked. He’s wearing a black Nirvana T-shirt and green flannel pajama pants, his hair disheveled. He’s also making hot chocolate.

“Hi,” he says casually, filling the mugs. He adds splashes of French vanilla coffee creamer—plus some 99 Whipped for his green mug—and swirls of whipped cream, then shaves on a generous dusting of Hershey’s chocolate. He gives you the blue mug. You take it in quivering hands. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m amazing.”

“Okay.” He waits, patient and watchful, sipping his hot chocolate.

You feel better after a few minutes tick by. Aegon’s apartment is serene and still. The tv is dark; there’s no music, no voices, no distractions. You can barely hear the screech of the Arctic wind outside. The only light turned on is the one in the kitchen; the rest of the apartment is shadows. The hot chocolate is warm, rich, comforting, safe. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty great,” Aegon replies. “Normal.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.” He gazes at you, still waiting.

You finish your hot chocolate and put the mug in the kitchen sink. You take your hair out of your braid and shake it loose, surveying his apartment with aimless steps: his couch, his guitar, his litany of refrigerator magnets, his unmade bed. Aegon sets his mug down on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Appletini,” he says. “Why are you here?”

You turn back to him, but you can’t find your words. It’s on your face, it has to be; it’s in a language Aegon can speak fluently. You see the understanding flicker in his eyes like firelight: sudden, bright, exhilarated.

“Say it,” he prompts. “You have to say it, or I’m not going to believe you.”

You try, you really do try. But you can’t get the words to leave your lips. You don’t know how to put what you want from him into words at all. Anything, everything.

He smiles, softly like a whisper. “Me first, huh?” Then he begins undressing. He yanks his Nirvana T-shirt over his head—further tangling his hair—and tosses it across the room. He slips off his pajama pants, and then his boxers too. He’s standing there in the florescent kitchen light, flesh and ink and track marks and scars. “Okay, your turn. If you’re still interested.”

“I want you to do that part.”

He crosses the scuffed hardwood floor, his footsteps quiet. His fingers find the top button of your flannel shirt. His eyes are fixed on yours as he unhooks the first button, another, another after that. He leans in to press his lips to your throat, just beneath your jaw. Slowly, exquisitely slowly, he kisses his way down to your collarbone as he unfastens the rest of the buttons and gently pulls off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He slips his hands below the hem of the T-shirt you’re wearing underneath and lifts it away, his knuckles grazing your belly, your waist, your ribs, the lace of your bra. And then he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you with exceptional, reverent slowness, like you’re something that could shatter. You can’t reconcile this man with the sort of wild acrobatics that Kimmie had described. And then you’re not thinking about Kimmie at all. The past is a black hole, the future is an empty sky. There’s no room in this lightning-brief sliver of eternity for anyone else.

You breathe him in: sweetness, warmth, the bite of alcohol, fire and shadows and light. He unbuttons your jeans, unzips them, kneels down to peel them off of you. He touches his lips to your thigh—first the outside, then the downy-soft inside—and hesitates for a moment before he stands to kiss your lips again. His hands skim across your bare back towards the clasp of your bra, raising goosebumps like twilight stars. And then again, he hesitates. His hands come back to your face, his fingertips calloused but lithe.

“You’re nervous,” you murmur, smiling. You tuck his escaped lock of hair behind his ear, pressing yourself against him: hips, chest, soul. The sapphire blue lace of your bra and panties rustles across his skin. You can’t get close enough to him; it’s not possible, it’s not fathomable. He’s holding himself back, you can tell. He’s panting with the effort. In the midnight silence, you can hear every sound he makes with crystalline clarity. The moonlight pours in, painting you both in ghostly silver light.

Aegon chuckles shakily. “I am,” he admits.

“I think you’ve done this once or twice before.”

“Yeah, but not with you.”

“I want this,” you say, your lips to the curl of his ear. His skin is hot with eager, rushing blood. “And I want you to be the one to set me free.”

Something snaps in him, something breaks like a wave. Your bra tumbles to the floor, your panties are whisked away, you and Aegon are on the bed together tangled up like arteries flush with life. There is a breathless sort of desperation in it: in the way your fingers intertwine, in his gasps and your moans, in the sustained pleasure—so intense it borders on pain—that causes euphoric tears to spring up in your eyes, in his deep, startlingly powerful thrusts that begin slowly and then build to a furious rhythm. And you know then that he agrees, it’s not possible to ever get close enough to each other; but still, you resolve to try.

“Look at me, baby,” Aegon whispers as you arch into him and you beg him not to stop, his palm turning your face towards his. “Look at me, look at me, look at me…”

You unravel like thread torn from a spool until its empty, like a mystery, like stitches clipped from a healed wound. There’s an insurmountable sort of peace that follows it. Nothing is okay, and yet everything is, and you can conjure up no words but only colors: the white of snow, the indigo of the night sky, the gold of the rare unclouded midday sun, the ethereal green-violet glow of the Northern Lights. Aegon empties himself inside you, crying out and kissing the side of your face over and over again, tasting heat and salt and your unnamed love for him. You can feel the serenity settling over him as if it’s your own pulse slowing, your own mind cleared like the horizon after a storm. You are irredeemably etched into each other. You are two sides of the same coin: too weightless, too rooted, unable to leave, unable to stay.

As you lay side by side in the moonlight, your fingers tangled in his hair, Aegon says: “You are the only thing that’s ever made me want to stop running.”

“You could stay. I want you to stay.”

“For a while.” He pulls you against him. You rest your head on his chest: ink, scars, slow thudding heartbeat. His fingertips draw invisible paths up the length of your spine. “Not forever. But for a while.”

She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade.

“I don’t want to have to forget you,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

“Not yet,” Aegon vows. It’s the only promise he can make. He kisses your forehead, sweeping the tears from your cheeks with his hands. “Not yet.”

[seliasvault]

Like A Rolling Stone

Looking for an escape you flee, hop on a bus, and end up in a small town, dead in the middle of Texas. Despite the temporary respite, you can't outrun what follows you for forever.

John Price/Reader - results from this poll

There’s a lot to be said about the phrase “going where the wind takes you”. Some may take it as an act of spontaneity, some may not take it literally, but you apply it to all its worth.

You bought the first bus ticket at the station, not bothering to check where it’s to, rather leaving it up to fate to decide. And it’s wound you up here.

Everything that you deem important, packed in a duffel bag, slung over your shoulder as you check into a rundown motel, located in the small town you’ve found yourself in.

You're a long way from home, if you can even call it home. You’ve longed too much for a better place to give it that name.

Hence why you’re here, miles from the city, from him. Several states further from the Big Apple, land of dreams.

Texas.

You never gave the countryside much thought, the music, the culture, it was never on your radar.

So throwing yourself into the most Texan place you could imagine was sure to be interesting.

But that was exactly what you were looking for, something fresh, to chase the bitter taste of the city away. Of your life away.

And so you check in indefinitely, it helps that the motel is a pay-as-you-go, each night you have the option to check out, to run.

If the town doesn’t suit you there’s always another bus waiting for you.

-

The room proves to be reasonable, with a single bed, a bathroom, and a dresser with a decent-sized TV.

It wasn’t modern or sparking clean by any means, but the contrast to your previous scene proved to soothe your soul. Modern is overrated anyway.

You set your duffle down on the bed and glance at the time, 4:34 pm. You decide taking a nap is the best course of action.

Daylight burns and the late afternoon turns to dusk.

By the time you wake, it’s 7:34 and the sky is void of light, safe for the moon shining just outside your window.

Back home 7:34 pm meant the start of your extensive bedtime routine. But you're not home anymore.

You grab your phone and head out to the motel office, if anyone would know the ins and outs of town it’d be a local.

You get the name of the best bar in town, the one conveniently down the street. And so you set off to walk half a mile, to the illuminated cabin-like building in the distance, as the silence of the night surrounds you.

You’ve been to bars before, but nothing quite as charming as the one you find yourself in now, barstools made of what looks like hand-crafted woodwork, the entire bartop made the same, as are the tables and booths.

Everything in this town seems to hold a flame of nostalgia to it, a sense of well-loved wear, and you're sure if you were here a year ago you might’ve found it distasteful but you can’t help but admire it now.

You’re sat in the corner, nursing a drink in hand as you survey the room, you feel light, alone but not lonely.

Men with those stereotypical cowboy hats, and people dressed in boots you’d only ever see here. You'd feel out of place if it weren't for the fact no one seemed to bat an eye.

It wasn’t crowded, a few groups of people at the tables, you and another man at the bar.

Overlooking the bar, peering into the lives of the locals; who seem to be native to the town, you wonder what it would be like to grow up here, have a little part of the world to call your own.

A little envious but you felt at ease, a feeling you hadn't felt in the past six months you've spent trying to figure your life out, you wanted this feeling to wrap itself around you, encompass you, embed itself within you, undo the knots of the past 4 weeks.

Lost in the thought you didn't notice the only other man at the bar move until he clears his throat, somehow now on the stool next to you.

You’re more spaced out than you thought.

“You're new around here aren’t you?” His voice is gruff like he’s burnt his throat from years of smoking.

He’s dressed like everyone else here, a signature hat atop his head and a brown leather jacket.

His accent however separates him from the rest, it’s not the usual country accent you’re accustomed to around here, there’s an edge to it, almost British. He sounds like a man who’s stayed too long.

“That’s a real cliche thing to say.” You laugh, swirling your drink in your glass.

“But I bet you aren’t from around here either.” You finally meet his eyes.

“Been here long enough to feel like I am.” He sips on what looks to be straight whisky.

“And how long is that?” You counter.

“ ‘bout 16 years.” He takes a sip. Your eyes follow his throat as he swallows.

You hum in acknowledgment.

“And how ‘bout you?” He looks at you attentively. Like every word you spew, he’ll memorize.

“First day actually.” You laugh a little.

“So not as much experience as you.” You add on.

“You’re gettin’ there.” His eyes crinkle.

“Oh yeah-” You glance at your imaginary watch.

“Just a couple more minutes and I’ll be rivaling you.”

“Yeah? Guess we’ll have to go toe to toe on the bull right there.” He looks over in the direction of the large mechanical bull resisting in the corner.

It’s worn just like everything else, tearing at the seams. And it seems like you missed it when you scanned the area.

“How did I not see that?” You stand up, to get a better look. You're in somewhat awe, only having seen it on late-night sitcoms growing up.

“Does it work?” You inquire.

“I’d hope it does, but haven’t seen anyone use it in years.” He’s turned now in his chair, facing toward where you’re looking.

“Haven’t seen one of those before, have you.” It’s supposed to be a question, but sounds more like a statement. Like he’s already looked right through you, knows you.

“No, only seen ‘em on those cheesy sitcoms, they’re not too common where I’m from.” You’ve turned your head to look back at him, opting now to move back to your seat.

You take another sip of your drink.

He hums, his eyes seem like they pierce through you.

“And where’s that?”

“The big ol’ apple.” Your tone is flat, discontent. Even the thought makes your stomach turn with anxiety.

“Not a fan?” He questioned.

“No-well I mean the city’s great, it’s just-life y’know?” You stumble out.

“The people- things were great when I first moved, but the last couple months-” You exhale.

“I’m just here for a break.” You finally finish, you think that was too much of an overshare, but the way he looked at you felt like it wasn’t.

You're not sure you’ve ever met someone who conveyed so much emotion with a simple look. Maybe it’s a country thing.

“Most people would have gone to an island.” He makes sense, if someone wanted a vacation, they’d go somewhere relaxing, but this wasn’t quite a vacation.

“Don’t think I have the funds for that.” You out a huff of a laugh.

A crash sounds behind you, and you slightly flinch, head darting to look behind. Seems to be a fight of some kind, not unusual for a bar.

“S’just those muppets at it again, every night they find something to disagree about.” He says, still looking at you, observing you.

“Wouldn’t be a bar without a fight, guess that’s universal.” You take another sip, to wash away the anxiety that’s seemed to crawl its way up your throat.

You glance at your phone. 9:14 pm.

“I think it’s time I head back.” You look back up at him, your drink almost fully done.

It’d be better to get started on walking back before it gets too late, you still don’t know the town, and getting caught up with the wrong kind of people was something you wanted to especially avoid.

“I’ll walk you out.” He still has about half of his drink left, but he goes to stand nonetheless.

“Oh no you don’t have to-” You start, not wanting to inconvenience him, he reads straight through you.

“Nonsense, come on.” You get up after him

You both walk together, comfortable space between you. When you reach outside you turn toward him.

Stars are the only source of light aside from the sparse dim-litted streetlights, his face half illuminated in the light.

“Thanks for walking me out.” You briefly look down, unable to maintain his gaze. People here seem to love unwavering eye contact, and you find his for some reason especially hard.

“It’s not a problem.” He dips his head down, and you laugh, something you’d only see in movies.

He smiles, and you give one in return, leaving it at that you make your way back to your motel.

When you hit your bed, practically collapsing on it, sleep comes to you surprisingly easily, and you sleep better than you’ve had in weeks.