#that and things ive seen in dreams and woke up in a cold sweat to plug into my docs app

[turtleraccoonsoup]

I THINK CAS SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN TO WRIGHT BEAUTIFUL PROSE AND LOVE LETTERS TO DEAN

I THINK DEAN SHOULD HAVE SAID HE WASN'T WORTH THE TIME AND EFFORT OF WRIGHTING LOVE LETTERS

AND I THINK CAS SHOULD HAVE WRITTEN HIM MORE IN RESPONSE

[darling-i-read-it]

Not Fun Dreams

Dalton Lambert x fem!prophet(esc)!reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: insidious 5 spoilers, some angst, canon level events/violence (descriptions of the readers visions as violence and never being good), shared trauma, a lot of unedited fic lol 

Author’s Note: This ended up a LITTLE LONG good lord lol. I just kept going! I hope you enjoy love, it ended up being a little less angst then I wanted to have some sort of preunderstood relationship. ALSO i made up the art school dalton goes too because I couldnt’ find the name or remember if it was mentioned. When will this movie be available to watch whenever i want smh. Anyway, enjoy!

Requested: by anon, your dalton fics were amazing and if you’re still in the mood to write for him i got an idea! dalton with a prophet esque reader. maybe not full out but maybe they have dreams or in certain places they can see what will happen there but doesn’t get the full event ( mostly negative/horrific things because this is the insidious universe and nobody can have nothing). id imagine they’d be more reclusive than dalton because even though they’re both obviously very traumatized reader constantly has to see these horrific things and not know how to stop them. knowing possibly from a young age where you and the people you love will die. the trauma bonding. the protectiveness. imagine the drama if she knew the whole time he could astral project and didn’t tell him, like being childhood friends and going to the same college as you saw something in a dream (one of the dorm scenes) and are trying to prevent it. i’m an angst girlie through and through and this movie made me worst. please don’t feel pressured to write at all, and i hope you have a great day/night! 

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When you were a kid it was much more simple. It made far more sense to you when your imagination was stretched as far as it could go. It was clouded by the guise of childhood, never knowing what was supposed to happen and what wasn’t. You figured that when you went to sleep and pictures flipped in your head piercing like a migraine, everything was normal. Your parents told you it was just dreams, even when the dreams started to get darker. You saw flashes of people’s faces, drenched in fear as they faced something unknown. The nightmares got worse. You insisted they weren’t nightmares. Children dealt with weird things all the time. 

It helped when the boy next door flew away in his sleep. 

Everyone must have these little gifts then right? All the children had a perk that slightly scared them, one they told their friends about that their parents didn’t pay much attention to. 

You’ll never forget the day Dalton moved. He left the house he had grown up in so that his parents could move somewhere bigger, somewhere to raise the new baby. You remember his little face, matching yours. You had never had a friend you cared for so much. It felt like the world could be taken on when you were with Dalton. 

“Are you sure you have to go?” you asked, quietly. You knew the answer to the question, even then. You had had an awful nightmare the night before. You had seen flashes of Dalton in bed, tubes surrounding him, IV’s in his arm. 

“My mom says so,” he muttered. You were hunched together in the corner of his house. Now empty, it seemed much larger. You didn’t like being in places that seemed to be experiencing change. You saw enough change. 

“But I’m worried,” you whispered. “Something might happen to you in the new house.” Your voice was hushed. Even then, you knew it was no use in telling his parents. No one would believe you. But you had to warn him because if anyone trusted you, it was Dalton. 

“Maybe it’s just another one of your not fun dreams,” he said quietly. He had gotten used to protecting you from them. You were often shaky when you woke up. He had seen it after a sleepover, cold sweats dripping down your petrified face. “Not one that would come true.”

You had known the lady down the street would trip down the stairs and die three weeks prior. But no one cared to check with the little girl who had silly prophetic dreams. 

“But what if it isn’t.” You pouted, a genuine pout. Dalton put his hand on yours, in a way only children could do. The most innocent of gestures. A sign of good faith. 

“I’ll be okay.” Even then he didn’t believe his words. He had been wandering further and further out in his dreams. You told him to stop, that it scared you. He insisted they were nothing like your dreams. His weren’t real. 

“You ready to go guys?” Josh Lambert asked. He walked up behind you, carrying a book at his side. 

“You’ll call right?” you asked quickly, suddenly overcome by emotion. Dalton nodded eagerly. 

“We’ve got your number, don’t worry,” Josh assured you. “We won’t be that far, right Dalton? Just down the road.” Dalton wanted to disagree but he didn’t. He just nodded, not ready for you to leave his house. Not ready to leave it himself. 

“I’ll call everyday,” Dalton promised. 

After a couple weeks he stopped calling. Your parents wouldn’t tell you why. Just that he couldn’t come to the phone. You could see him in your dreams, desperately lost and you had no way of helping him.

-

You woke up with a start. 

As you grew up the dreams started to become less violent. They were always violent in nature but sometimes you could wake up and not feel panicked. You looked at your bedside table, the orange bottles staring back at you. Some were for panic attacks, some were for general anxiety, some to help you sleep. You debated taking one, wondering if you could stick it out for the day. The thought was quickly dismissed. 

You had dreamt of Dalton. 

You hadn’t dreamt of Dalton since you were a kid, since you lost touch. The memory of it became so blurry over time. There was no way you could have blamed him for it. In hindsight you blame your parents and the cycle of time. You went to different schools and there was no reason to stay in touch because you couldn’t ever see each other. 

You grabbed your phone off the side of your bed. You hadn’t seen much. 

Dalton. Older, taller, handsomer. A full man now, though you weren’t sure why you were surprised. A school, the name of the school just barely on the tip of your tongue. You wrote down everything you remembered furiously. The feeling of dread. A familiar creeping of darkness that you couldn’t quite place. Your dreams were sporadic. Whatever you had dreamt of could still be months out. 

You got out of bed and walked down the hallway. You were packing for school yourself, eager to leave by the end of the week. The car was almost packed with most of your things. 

You reached for your parents phone book. They kept it beside the fridge, even though it was ancient and most of the numbers were outdated. You had given them grief about it before. Everyone had numbers saved to their phones now, what was the point of a phone book?

You ate your words as you flipped through the pages, looking for Lambert. Sure enough, both Renai and Josh were separately listed. You reached for your phone, trying Renai first. 

It rang for a while, leading you to believe the number might’ve been wrong. Then there was an answer and a kind voice spoke on the other end. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi! Is this Renai Lambert?” 

“This is her. Who is this?” 

“Hi Mrs. Lambert! This is kind of weird but my name is Y/N. I used to be friends with Dalton when we were kids?” There was a beat of silence and then a laugh, one you remembered well. You had always liked Renai. She was endlessly kind, always offering you lemonade when you came around. You could still hear her playing songs on the piano while you and Dalton ran around their house. 

“Y/N! Oh goodness, it’s been a while hasn’t it? Why are you calling now?” You smiled, happy she remembered you. 

“I just randomly dreamt of Dalton last night and hadn’t seen him in years. I was wondering if he still lived with you or if I could talk to him?” 

“For sure! Gimme one second.” She moved away. You could hear a muffled call for Dalton. The phone returned to her ear. “How have you been?” 

“I’ve been good! I’m going to art school at the end of the month,” you offered. 

“Really? So is Dalton! Oh, here he is!” There was a moment as the phone was passed along. You cleared your throat. 

“Hello?” 

“Dalton?” There was another beat of silence. You thought maybe he didn’t remember you, which would be slightly awkward. You would have to re-explain everything before he would even believe a word that came out of your mouth. Then he spoke. 

“Y/N?” You let out a breath of relief. 

“Yeah.” He scoffed and you could picture him shaking his head in disbelief. 

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Still the same protective boy he had been when you were kids. 

“I had a dream about you last night and I wanted to call, see if you were okay.” Another moment of silence. You wondered if Renai had left the room.

“A not fun dream?” he asked quietly. You nodded, looking down. 

“Yeah.” You could hear Renai in the background. 

“She’s going to art school too.” 

“Really? Where are you going?” 

“Western. Not far from home, at least, where home used to be.” 

“Me too,” he breathed. “Who would’ve thought?” You bit the inside of your cheek, wondering what it would be like to be back with Dalton again. You had never felt so understood like when you were with him. 

“When do you leave? We should meet up for lunch.”

-

Dalton Lambert had gotten tall. You noticed that first when you saw him. He stepped right out of your dreams and onto his dorm room flooring. You had just missed Josh who had eagerly scurried away. Your parents had left you too. Now you and Dalton were finally in a place where you could hang out away from adults, which was a weird feeling when you were together. 

He had texted you his room number and you knocked on the door. When it opened, he hugged you. It wasn’t awkward or weird. In fact, it felt like you had finally come home. 

“How are you?” you asked. 

“I’m okay,” he promised. He ushered you in. “I’d be better if you told me what your dream was about.” You shook your head. 

“It was just you being here.” 

“You have good dreams now?” You shook your head. 

“That’s the whole thing.” He gestured for you to sit at his desk or at the empty bed beside his. You sat down on his bed anyway, putting your feet up to your chest like you were a child. “I don’t. But I remember feeling bad when I woke up, like something was coming.” You looked over at him. “How are you? How are your dreams?”

He paused for a moment, like he was glitching or buffering. You tilted your head. 

“Dalton?”

“My dreams are fine,” he answered finally. “Not nearly as interesting as yours.” You nodded slowly. That wasn’t exactly the answer you were expecting to get but you trusted him to open up when he was ready. “So do you think somethings gonna happen?” 

“I don’t know. I think I’ll know more later,” you promised, though you only half believed it.

“The last time you dreamt about me I went into my coma,” he said quietly, cautiously. He opened up to you quickly, knowing what it was like to be friends with you when you were a kid. There was something so special about being known before you even knew yourself. 

“I know. That’s why I found my parents' phonebook and called your mom.” 

“At least you’ll be closer this time around,” he suggested. “You’re welcome to hit me in the head if I start drifting off when I’m not supposed to.” You laughed gently. 

“Good to know.” You looked up at his wall. He had started to put drawings up. His mom was in the one above his pillow, at her piano. She looked just like you remembered her. “How is she?” you asked. Your eyes scanned the room. “Oh man, how is Foster? Cali?” 

“Good, good, they’re all good,” he promised, laughing a bit. “My parents got divorced a couple years ago. My dad is slightly losing it.” 

“As all dads do.” Your eyes scanned the wall. There was a picture of his brother. Another of his grandmother, who you only met every once in a while. Above her was a picture you recognized. It was you. You when you were a kid, in a room you no longer remembered. “Is that me?” He cleared his throat. 

“Your call had me looking through pictures.” You glanced at him, smiling a bit. 

“I loved your house so much. It was like a second home to me.”

“It was a first home to me.” You rolled your eyes. 

“We have so much to catch up on. Tell me everything. I have nowhere to be.”

-

Dalton’s room became a second one to you. It was serendipitous, moving from swapping houses to swapping dorm rooms. The transition felt comfortable and seamless. His roommate Chris moved out because she was a girl so you mostly got the room to yourselves. 

A couple weeks in, he started to have nightmares. Nights where you recognized the look on his face when he woke up. It was the same look he had after he had wandered too far, daring you to go with him. When he woke up he looked just like a kid still. Big wide eyes, confused. 

You sat on the spare bed. Dalton had fallen asleep half an hour before but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. There was nothing wrong with just falling asleep there. You had done it before and you would do it again, waking up to his alarm for his early class. 

You laid your head down on the pillow, scrolling on your phone. The night had fallen, indicating that you should let yourself drift off into sleep. You raised your head a bit, wondering if you could easily find one of Dalton’s shirts to wear to sleep instead of your uncomfortable day one. You should’ve asked him before he fell asleep. You stood up lazily, rubbing your eyes. The room was only illuminated by the nightlight at Dalton’s side. He had fallen asleep with a pencil still in his hand, his sketchbook still out on his side.

You groggily slipped the pencil out of his fingers, putting it on the desk. You grabbed his sketchbook, looking at what he was looking at. It was still just lines on a paper, soon to be something beautiful. You put it aside. You were about to turn around when he woke up with a start. 

He lifted his head completely, almost ramming into you. You jumped, startled. 

“Woah!” you exclaimed. He was breathing heavily. He looked up at you, eyes wide. You met his gaze, almost positive what had just happened. “Did you wander off?” 

“What?” 

“In your sleep. Did you project?” He was silent for a moment, still trying to catch up on whatever it was going on in his head. He didn’t say anything for a second, staring at you with bewildered eyes. “Dalton?” 

He finally opened his eyes up to speak but was cut off by a loud screeching. You put your hands over your ears, wincing. The fire alarm was going off. Dalton scrambled out of bed, looking at the door. He rushed forward, pushing it open. 

Down the hall, all the other students were leaving their beds. Most were still muddled with sleep, wearing nothing but their pajamas. You peeked your head out behind him. He grabbed your arm and started to bring you down the hallway to the stairs. It was too tight for everyone so his grip was iron tight, weaving through the confusion. You pushed through the door to the stairs, moving with the herd down. You glanced back, trying to find the source of the confusion. 

You emerged outside into the night. It was freezing. The group dispersed into the courtyard, everyone looking back to the building you had just left. You brushed against Dalton behind you, who had finally let go of your arm. You couldn’t see anything in the building, nothing to indicate a reason everyone was leaving. 

“Do you see anything?” you asked him. He shook his head. 

“No.” You shivered, suddenly very aware of how cold it was. 

“Maybe it was a drill,” you suggested. He nodded slowly, not wanting to argue as his eyes scanned the building. 

Someone was yelling something in a megaphone you couldn’t make out. You tried to find the source of the voice to no avail. 

“What are they saying?” 

“False alarm,” he said, like it wasn’t a question. You furrowed your brows. 

“How can you hear that?” 

“I pulled it,” he said, finally. You turned around to look at him. 

“How? You were right there with me the whole time.” 

“I did it in my sleep.”

“If you knew it was a false alarm, why did we come out here?” 

“Because I wasn’t sure.” His voice sounded far away. You looked back at the building, completely safe in the backdrop of the night. You turned back to him. His look was dreary and unreadable. “You should probably go back to your room,” he said, voice still far away. You tried not to take that badly. It just seemed random. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Are you okay Dalton?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” You nodded slowly. People started to pass you, going back inside. 

“Want me to walk you back up?” “I’m okay,” he assured you, some of the life returning to his voice. 

“Alright…I’ll see you tomorrow?” He nodded quickly and started to walk into the crowd. 

-

The next morning you woke up in a daze. You couldn’t quite remember what happened the night before, all of it glossing over your memory like a blur. You grabbed your phone off the side table, your roommate still snoozing away. You had a text from Dalton and a text from Chris, his old roommate. 

Taking Dalton to that frat party tonight. Wanna come? 

You opened that one up first. Dalton at a frat party? You almost snorted. You hadn’t been back in his life for very long but it didn’t seem like his vibe. You opened Dalton’s text next. 

Sorry about last night. Had a weird dream and woke up weird. 

You texted him back immediately. 

No worries. Are you really going to the frat party tonight? 

Almost immediately a little bubble showed up in the white box. You laid your head back down on the pillow. It felt like you had only taken a nap because of the weird in between moments. A text came from Dalton. 

Supposedly. Chris wants me to go. Do you wanna come? 

You glanced at your calendar. 

I have a test in the morning, I think I’ll pass. Thanks for the invite tho :) Try not to get too drunk! 

You opened Chris’s texts back up too to answer her as well. As you were typing out your response, Dalton texted you again. 

Are you sure??? I could get lost, drunk and suggestive. Who would protect me from the onslaught of potential girls? 

You rolled your eyes harder. 

Chris will! 

You turned off your phone to get ready for the day. 

-

You sat on your bed in your dorm room. Your eyes were dropping off to sleep, phone down on your comforter, computer open as you looked at reference pictures. Your sketch book was open, though it didn’t have anything except the bare bones of some sort of idea. You hummed to the music coming from your phone, mind wandering from your work. 

Your roommate had gone to the same frat party as Dalton. You were by yourself tonight as the sun dropped. It was becoming more clear that you just wanted to go to sleep tonight to wake up rested for the test. You picked up your phone, pursing your lips as you tried to decide if giving up homework was worth it for the night. You had no new texts from Dalton or Chris except a picture from Chris’s phone of the two of them there. You smiled a bit. Dalton looked awkward and out of place. It was good that he was branching out. 

Finally you set your things aside. There was no use in trying to do any more work when you were still catching up on sleep from the night before. 

As you placed your head on the pillow a simultaneous pierce through your skull erupted. You grabbed your head at the familiar feeling. Usually you only got visions when you were asleep, waking up to some sort of horrific memory. 

A bathroom. It felt cold, like ice, like the ground hadn’t been stepped on by humans in years. A boy was there, his face shrouded by the toilet. He gripped the sides but his hands didn’t look real. Something was wrong with him. You couldn’t tell what it was. The sound of the door opening, a creek, a sudden stop. 

You dug your nails into the skin on your forehead, willing it to stop. It had been so long since you were awake when this happened. 

Before it subsided you could see Dalton in the doorway. The dread returned, the same dread you had when you were a kid and he was moving away where you couldn’t protect him. You let out a breath that you had been holding. Your hands were shaking. 

Usually you wrote down what you saw, quickly jotting down things you could remember. Typically nothing would stand out for you to take immediate action. This time you jumped out of bed, quickly putting on slip on shoes. You were wearing shorts and a hoodie, clothes to sleep in, when you ran down the stairs. You had never been to the frat the party was at tonight but there were still fliers everywhere and you assured yourself you would find one. 

Thankfully, right on the pole outside of the building was a green poster with the address. You knew where Greek Row was, not more than a five minute walk from your dorm. You turned towards it and started to run. 

By the time you got there you were already exhausted. You crashed through the door, entering a chaotic scene. There were people everywhere, ramming into each other, sloshing drinks on people’s clothes, too drunk to care. You scanned the crowd. You pushed through people, to the staircase. There were people hanging out there, leaning against the railing, leaning against each other. You walked upstairs, searching for a bathroom. The doors were mostly locked. 

You ran right into Chris, leaving the bathroom. You peeked inside but it wasn’t the one from your vision. 

“Woah! You decided to come after all! What are you wearing?” 

“Where’s Dalton?” She gestured to a door down the hall. You rushed towards it, almost tripping over yourself. You swung the door open. Dalton was on the ground, half under the bed, face filled with fear. “Dalton!” He snapped his head back up at you and then back in the air. There was nothing there. “Did you..did you see that?” 

“No.” 

“There was something-” You fell to your knees beside him, helping him out from under the bed. 

“What did you see?” 

“A kid in the bathroom. There was someone in the bathroom and he was-”

“Dead.” Chris emerged at the door frame. 

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Have you been astral projecting lately?” you asked him, voice low and serious. His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Have I been what?” You stared at him for a long time, unsure what he meant. Maybe he just didn’t want to say anything in front of Chris. 

“Dalton come on.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and he felt honest. He grabbed your hand, willing you to believe him.

“When we were kids you could walk around in your sleep. Your soul left your body or whatever.” You paused, trying to read his face. “You don’t remember?” 

‘No,” he said, honestly. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Chris repeated. 

“We should go,” you said quickly. “We’ll talk back at the dorms.” You helped Dalton up. 

-

Though she protested, Chris left the two of you alone in Dalton’s dorm. The explanations coming out of his mouth weren’t something she trusted and she trusted you to make sure he went to bed alright. Though she did feel bad for dragging him along, unsure if the drinking had something to do with his abnormal reaction. 

“We have to call your parents,” you said as he sat down at his desk. He shook his head. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes you can. They know what happened here and why you don’t remember it.” You hadn’t known everything about Dalton being in a coma but you didn’t expect him to remember nothing of it completely. He detailed not even remembering being sick. They moved into the new house and then the rest of the year was nothing but a blur. 

“I wouldn’t believe you if I hadn’t just seen it,” he breathed. You grabbed his phone off the table, opening it up. “Wait-” 

“No wait. We have to call your mom. She’ll know what to do.” 

“But this could just be something completely normal. You said I could do it before I went into my coma.” 

“And then you went too far, Dalton. I don’t actually know how far too far is but I know you’re already too close to it.” You held up the phone for him. “Call her.” He looked at you, eyebrows knitted. He looked at the canvas at his desk, completely covered in black, a red door created at the edges. There was something at that door he couldn’t remember anymore. He set his jaw and grabbed his phone. 

“I don’t think this is gonna help.” 

“Put it on speaker.” 

The phone rang for a moment but no longer than that. Renai answered quickly. 

“Hello? Dalton?” 

“Hey mom.” 

“It’s nice of you to call,” she said, half jokingly. “How are things there? Are you settling in nicely?” 

“Yeah mom, that’s not really why I called.” He gave you a look as you sat beside him eagerly. “I’ve been having these dreams and Y/N said you might know something about that.” 

The line was silent for a moment. 

“What kind of dreams?” 

“I can see my body when I leave it. Like I’m walking around in this other world.” 

“Is Y/N there?”

“Right here Mrs. Lambert.” She paused again. The tension seeped from the phone. You met Dalton’s eyes. 

“Mom?” 

“Maybe I should just come up there and talk to you in person. Can Y/N stay with you until I get there?” 

“What? Mom, you don’t need to come all the way up here.” Shuffling came from the other line.

“It’s too hard to explain over the phone. I’ll be there in the morning.” 

“No, mom.” He took a deep breath. “What happened? Tell me now.” His hands were wrapped tightly around the phone. He had grabbed your hand. You couldn’t remember when. 

“You and your father don’t know,” she said quietly. “We made it so that those memories were suppressed. I don’t know how it came back.” She shuddered. “When you were in the coma you went somewhere Dalton. For three months, we lost you.” 

“Where?” 

“A place called The Further.” Her voice was gravely serious. He stared at the ground. The name sent shivers down his spine, like all that repressed childhood fear came back. “You got lost there and things tried to take your body. Your dad went back to find you and…something else came back instead of him.” Dalton looked at the door painting on his desk. 

“How do I stop it?” 

“I don’t know honey. I’m coming down.”

“What about dad? What if he’s going through this too?” 

“I’ll get your father. We’ll come together.” Dalton had nothing to say to that. It must be serious if they were going to stay together for a long period of time like the drive up to school. “Stay with Y/N.” There was a beat. “I love you Dalton.” 

“I love you too mom.” 

She hung up the phone. For a long time you just sat there in silence. You hadn’t ever gotten those answers before, the ones you had only gotten glimpses of when you were a kid trying to sleep. 

“I remember the demon trying to get you,” you whispered. “He was dark…with red,” you said. “I had nightmares about him for months. I kept seeing him get closer and closer but no one believed me.” 

Dalton looked over at you, his look unreadable. 

“He’s trying to get me again,” Dalton muttered. “I can feel him.” 

You shook your head. That was the last thing you wanted to hear. You stood up, letting go of his hand. 

“This is bigger than us. There’s this whole other world and you’re going to it and it’s so close-” 

“But if I don’t go to it then-”

“Are you gonna stay awake? Forever?” Dalton shut his mouth. “Repressing the ability didn’t work so what else is there to do but enter the place?” You shivered. Just the memory of your visions sent chills down your spine. “I haven’t seen the demon recently. I’ve just seen you.” 

“Maybe that’s a good thing.” You nodded. You paced, unsure what to do with all the fear in your body. “We just have to wait till the morning, then my mom will be here.” You both knew that might not solve anything. Still, you nodded. There was nothing else to do but wait.

 “I’m staying here with you.” 

“I don’t wanna be alone anyway.” He shook his head, voice far away. This dorm had started to become a safe haven, despite the places your brain went when you were asleep. It felt much better than your own dorm with the roommate you hardly knew. You’d likely be getting a text from her in the morning, wondering where you were again. 

You sat back down on Dalton’s bed. 

“Are we gonna try and stay awake all night?” He shook his head. 

“If I wake up I’ll just stay right where I am.” 

“That sounds easier than it will be.” It was already late, nearly midnight. You were tired and your heart was starting to slow down now that the problem didn’t seem as pressing. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes but it didn’t do much.

“Are you ready to sleep now?” he asked. You nodded. 

“I really thought I was gonna go to bed early tonight. Looks like I’ll be skipping the test in the morning.”

“I don’t want you to do that. I’ll be fine by myself.” You shook your head. 

“No way. I’m staying here until your parents show.” You yawned. “But I should probably go to sleep soon.” He glanced at the bed on the other side of the room. He knew you would go there automatically if he didn’t say otherwise. He couldn’t exactly explain it but he would just feel safer if you were closer to him. 

He could explain it but suddenly that feeling was scarier then wandering off into The Further. 

“I’ll take that b-”

“You could sleep with me.” You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion. Without so much as a beat you answered. 

“Okay.” He let out a breath. You got up. “Scoot over then.” He looked up at you and your willingness to be so close to him.

“I’ve gotta change.” 

“Then change.” He stood up, walking to his drawer. He shuffled around in there for something acceptable to wear. Usually he just wore his boxers and a shirt but suddenly that felt so revealing. He could see you in the corner of his eye, getting under the covers and getting comfortable. 

You tried to pretend it wasn’t a big deal to you that he asked even though your heart was in your throat. 

“Don’t look,” he said. You made a dramatic gesture of covering your eyes. He took his shirt, facing away from you. You peaked between your fingers, admiring his back as he quickly slipped the other shirt back on. When he undid his belt you covered your eyes again. 

“You can stay awake,” you offered. He turned off the lamp on the desk, leaving only the nightlight. He moved the blankets aside so he could sit beside you. 

“I’m exhausted from finding out my memory was erased.”

“It sounds so dramatic that way.” 

“What would you say?”

“Hypnotism.” He put his head against the pillow, facing you. It was rare you were at eye level. 

“That’s dramatic too.” 

You sat there in silence for a moment. You hadn’t seen his face so close to you since you were kids. It was just like the sleepovers you had when you were a kid, just a little less innocent. 

“Are you scared to fall asleep?” he asked, voice a whisper now.

“Sometimes. Tonight I am. I don’t wanna dream about you.” He should be feeling awkward, being so close to you. Instead he felt more comfortable than ever. 

“Then don’t.” 

“I’ll give it my best effort.” Your eyes were so heavy. They closed without you even thinking about it. 

“I’m gonna be awake a little longer. I think I’m gonna sketch.” 

“Okay Dalton,” you whispered and it sounded so incredibly childlike. He sat up a bit, leaning against the headboard. He grabbed his sketchpad off the table. You nuzzled your head into the pillow. “Do you mind if I use you as a pillow?” you asked quietly. 

“No. Not at all.” 

You moved forward a bit and then your head was on his lower chest, arm over him. He put his hand over your back and suddenly sketching seemed much less important than making you comfortable. 

“Goodnight Y/N.”

-

Neither of you had set an alarm. 

Renai and Josh showed up early at 7 the next morning, the sun still slowly coming up. Renai knocked on the door, antsy to see her son. She had explained everything to Josh on the way over. He was pleased to find he wasn’t crazy. 

The knock went unanswered. She took a deep breath and knocked again. 

“You don’t think it’s unlocked do you?” she questioned. Josh tried the doorknob. It opened with ease. They shared a look. 

The other bed was still unused. Laying in the other bed was you and Dalton. You were on his chest, a pencil lazily in his fingers. He was hugging you with both arms, cheek pressed against your head. 

Renai couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. 

“They’re okay,” she whispered. Josh nodded. He wanted to smile at the sight. It felt right. 

“Should we wait for them to wake up?” 

Renai couldn’t help but feel unhappy when Dalton slept. Even years later, whenever he slept in, she was checking on him constantly. 

“They’ll understand.” She approached him, sitting at the edge and nudging his shoulder. He groaned. He was okay. He was there. You nosed your face further into his chest. 

Neither of you had any nightmares that night. Your sleep was as black as it should be, consumed by each other's arms.

[flowerwrites06]

break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Special 

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation 

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

-

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

-

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

-

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

-

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

-

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

<< PREV CHAP | NEXT CHAP >>

[aureolusfirewrites]

Ugh due to some realization being crammed down my throat by minecraftninjerkid I've decided to write something that doesn't end in Ben being beaten to a pulp or dead it's still angsty as fuck though don't kid yourself.

Waking Nightmares

'No. Not this dream again.' He thought as he realized what was happening.

Unbeknownst to the general public Ben Tennyson, savior of the universe, was someone who generally suffered from night terrors. And those night terrors were something that he could only imagined being concocted from a hellscape.

True some were less horrifying than others but there were seldom ones that didn't cause him to wake up in a cold sweat screaming. And this one, this nightmare, was one of his worst.

He kept getting plagued by it and personally it terrified Ben what his mind might be trying to get him to do.

His dream started out just as viscously as the rest of it. He was standing with nothing but black surrounding him. No horizon, no escape, nothing but black until... The crowds, people so many people, everyone they were surrounding him. They yelled he couldn't actually hear them there was no sound in this awful place. But still he knew they were yelling and fear from it gripped at him.

Then the crowd parted and made way for someone special. For a moment he felt relief as his now grey colored cousin walked towards him. He smiled and reached out for her rushing forward. Trying to hug her something to tell him he'd be okay because Gwen would help... Right?

When he got to her though he stumbled when his body passed through hers like she was a ghost. Ben turned to look at his cousin, a horrid cruel smile plastered over her face. She pointed behind Ben and be turned around. The people who had been shouting were slowly one by one turning to dust. All of them silent as if to tell him it was his fault. Terrified he turned back to Gwen in time to watch her disintegrate before his eyes.

"n- no! Stop please! No no no" he begged in shock.

He fell back hitting the ground trying to scramble away. Loud crackling split the landscape and white cracks spread across the floor under him. Within seconds it had broken and plunged him down.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

He plunged down into freezing cold water. The water was grey turning to black and white air bubbles went up around him. He tried to swim. Get closer to the surface. But he only went down further.

His lungs were screaming in pain it felt like he was burning from the inside out.

His sight was dimming not that it was much different than what he would see if he was focused but a key difference made his eyes snap awake again.

Kevin. The taller teen was covered in metal but wasn't sinking any faster than Ben was as he carefully glided over to him. Ben looked at his friend expectantly.

Kevin reached over and gripped his shoulders. For a second Ben relaxed as he grabbed ahold of Kevin hugging him, but then there was a new sensation. It was slow at first as he felt something else curling around his midsection. He looked up to Kevin. The metal had his body and wrapped in a tight binding around his chest. Surprised he let go of Kevin who just waved before sinking back into the dead black water.

For a second Ben just stared looking at where Kevin had dissapeared to but then he saw something else. Fast as a whip a metal cuff snapped over his left hand and a chain connected to it. Fear jolted through his body as slowly it made him sink faster then another chain snapped around his right hand. He struggled pulling against them but more chains wrapped around him dragging him deeper.

His lungs couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take it anymore. Ben let out a howled scream but the sound was lost as bubbles burst from his mouth and water filled his lungs.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Suddenly the water released him and he fell hard to the ground. He laid there spluttering and panting for more air as he coughed up more water.

He shuddered and fell to his side. The pain, the shouting from all those people, everything, it was all getting to be to much. It just hurt to bad.

For what felt like a long time he just stayed there curling in on himself shaking. Then he heard footsteps.

Soft thudding drawing closer to him. When he looked up relief washed over his entire body. "Rook!" He stumbled running over to his partner and fell down in front of him. Ben stayed sitting down on the floor not wanting to look up so Rook wouldn't see him breaking. "R- Rook I- I- I can't it hurts, and it's loud, it's so loud I- I can't-" he stuttered. Then Rook knelt down in front of him and lifted a hand under Ben's chin turning his face towards him to make eye contact. Ben searched his eyes for something but all that was there was a dead condescending smug look that radiated 'I'll make it better' but in the worst way.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment then Rook reached behind his back. There was a soft click when the object was set in his arms.

'So it's the prototool this time huh?' Ben thought outside of his dream.

He looked at the weapon for a moment understanding what this part meant. He slightly shook his head not looking up from his fixed spot on the floor. He felt something brush against him as Rook got closer to him. Then the alien whispered something right into his ear and whatever he said must've broken him because silent tears formed and fell down his face.

Ben gulped and numbly picked up the prototool, in gun form, and turned the barrel to his chest. He made a hiccuping noise clenched his eyes shut and pulled.

He bolted upright. He was panting, gasping, his body trying to force air into itself to make sure it was still alive.

He was still sitting there rigid when he felt something warm wrap around him. He flinched for a moment but soon recognized his boyfriend's arms around his waist and chin resting on top of his head.

"Nightmare again?" Rook asked quietly not releasing Ben from his grip.

"Y- yeah it's nothing Rook j- just go back to sleep sorry I woke you up."

There was a discontent sigh as Rook pulled him closer.

"Ben."

"Yeah?"

This is the fifth time this weak you have woken up in tears. I highly doubt that it is nothing."

Ben flinched at the words. "You heard those to?" He tried to dodge the subject.

"Ben despite what you may believe it is hard to not be woken up when the person sleeping with you suddenly jumps and begins crying, much less the two nights of screaming."

"sorry" he mumbled.

"You will be forgiven when you tell me what is wrong."

Ben let out an exasperated sigh and leaned further back against Rook.

"Please tell me?"

"Alright alright fine. It's one nightmare, it keeps repeating. Everything is loud and it hurts and then everythin- it's to much. I- I feel trapped and then..."

"Then...?" Rook prompted trying to get Ben to continue knowing that at any chance he would shut down the conversation and act as if it had never happened.

"and then you show up and for a second I think it'll be okay but- but then you just tell me that I'm right and there isn't any fixing it, that there's only one way that it'll all go away. Then I get- I get a choice. And- and I always choose the easier way."

Rook had frozen at the description starting to get a good picture of what Ben was describing. It certainly explained why he had been screaming if nothing else. He was staring to really regret having asked but still felt the conversation was necessary. Ben needed him right now, he needed a listener.

He could tell there would be no stopping now until Ben had finished getting all of it of his chest.

"s- sometimes it's just a normal human weapon, sometimes it's something Ive seen some bad guys use when we fight in undertown, tonight it was the prototool, and then sometimes..."

Another shudder ran through his body and Ben shook his head. Heaving out deep breaths while His boyfriend ran long fingers through his messy hair.

"And sometimes it's the omnitrix. It- it zaps me and electrocutes me and it burns. It feels like I'm burning from the inside out and all I can see is green. And it just- It just hurts Rook. I- I don't know maybe something's wrong with me."

"You are right." Rook simply said catching Ben off guard.

"huh? W-What you- you do think there's something wrong with me?"

Rook nodded.

"Ben, there is something wrong with all of us. With everything you have been through I am not surprised at all of your flaws but the good in you is still much greater than all of those "problems" combined."

Ben sniffed and stayed quiet for a long time taking in what his boyfriend told him.

"Hey Rook?"

"Mmhmm" the cat like alien responded sleepily.

"Thank you"

A small chuckle came from his partner and he gave his last words before they fell asleep in each other's embrace.

"Trust me Ben If there is one thing I know about it is that Ben Tennyson never takes the easy way out."

[honeypirate]

my sun and stars

Izuku Midoirya x Reader 

In my head theyre in their last year of school and end up fighting a bad villian, deku saves reader and ends up getting hurt, leading to a kind of confession.  

flufffyyyyy best friends to more

Heavily unedited so I apologize for the mistakes I know are there somewhere.

The girls of class 1A, Aoyama, and you, sat cross legged on the floor of Deku’s room. A book on the floor between you all that explains the chemical makeup of what you needed “thank you so much for this Yao-Momo. It really is a help since it’s so late and I don’t know where to even get these.” she smiles “no problem, this is an amazing idea” the little plastic pieces start to fall from her skin, onto the floor around her. You squeal in excitement and start to pick up the pieces, grabbing the sticky tack that she made first, and begin hanging the plastic pieces all over the room. You didn’t finish until early in the morning, around 3am. You were happy even though you knew you had to get up early to go to the hospital

Your neck ached but you didn’t care, you kept your hand in his and your forehead against your hand as you rested in the hospital. Your best friend, Izuku Midoriya, has been in a coma for the past few days, you made a huge fuss and now they let you stay with him however long you wanted if you just went home at night to shower and sleep. School has been out for the past few days because of rebuilding from the attack, Midoriya only got hurt because he was protecting you and you felt guilty because of it. You wanted to be with him as long as possible until he woke up, and the teachers knew that, Aizawa was there as long as you were but he gave you space, sitting outside of the door. He walked you back to school at the end of the night, and was there in the morning when you left the dorm, the travel to and fro was always silent but you were grateful for the company. 

“y/n, what are you doing here?” your head snaps up from the bed “you’re awake!” you say and smile, but your smile falls away when you see the disgusted look on his face and the way he whips his hand away from yours “oh..” you whisper, your heart beginning to race. “What are YOU doing here?” he asks again, his eyes turning dark, “I uhh, i wanted to be here when you woke up, i was worried..” you withdraw into the chair you were sitting in, feeling smaller than a pinhead, “don't tell me you’re IN LOVE with me?! Don't make me laugh” and he does, long and loud, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. You feel tears burn your eyes and quickly scoot your chair back, popping to your feet and trying to run out the door, but the door won't open when you push it. You try to force it open and it doesn’t budge, your hand freezes when his laughter stops and he speaks again “i never should have hurt myself for you. You’re not worth it. It should be you in this hospital bed” you gasp and tears start to flow down your cheeks, the door immediately flies open and all of your friends are outside the door, laughing and shoving their way inside while chanting “it should have been you” you take a step back and trip, falling on your butt and choking on a sob. You scoot farther back until youre up against the wall, your friends walking slowing towards you and Midoriya standing from his hospital bed, walking over to you with a smirk before crouching down in front of you“D..deku. Why?”  you sob as you look into his dark green eyes you loved, he chuckles “because I could never love a person like you” 

You woke up with a gasp in a cold sweat, panting and your heart racing, the dream you were just in still fresh in your mind. You throw your covers off and go to open the window in your room, the cool night air cooling off your body as you took deep breaths to calm yourself down. “That was so rude of you, brain” you whisper to nobody and then get back in bed, reaching over and checking your phone, 4:04am. Your alarm would go off in three hours but you doubt that you would get any more sleep tonight. 

The walk to the hospital was the same as all the others, only thing heard was your footsteps on the pavement, when you get to his hospital room you stop, hand on the door, and frown. “Is something wrong?” Mr. Aizawa asks and you shake your head. “Just a bad dream.” you whisper and then turn your face towards him “thank you for always walking with me. I really appreciate it” he nods and you finally enter the room. 

You tell his unconscious form about your dream, “and yeah” you yawn “i didn't sleep after that.” you pull your chair across the room to be by the bed, sitting down and pulling a blanket out from your bag and a book you had to read for your class, pulling your knees up and settling in. “i really hope you wake up soon, Deku. I miss you.” 

A chorus of beeping is what woke him up, his eyes slowly fluttering open, the groan in his throat dying before it can come out when he catches sight of your unconscious form sleeping curled up in the chair next to his bed, your peaceful sleeping face giving him butterflies. “She’s here every day, all day, leaving only to go home and sleep before coming back in the morning” his eyes moved over to the doorway where the voice was “mr Aizawa!” he says in a whisper. Aizawa comes in quietly, looking at you and your book that fell to the ground, “you should have seen the fuss that they made on the first day when we tried to send them home. They really care about you” he covers his mouth as he yawns and then shoves his hands in his pocket. Izuku’s eyes go back over to you as he sits up quietly, stifling the groan of his soar muscles, he doesn’t know what to say, the fact that you care so much about him makes his heart sore, he's been in love with you for so long but felt convinced you saw him as only a friend. This makes him hope you see him as more.

A hand on your shoulder makes you up, you open your eyes and see the dark green eyes from your dream. You gasp, your eyes widening and your heart beat spiking as you sit up straight in the chair, trying to back away from him but the back of the chair stopping you. “Hey hey it’s just me it’s okay” his eyes, you realized, weren’t dark at all. But filled with sweetness and a kindness that you were so familiar with. The beautiful green eyes you loved, nothing like the ones from your dream. You relax and then laugh awkwardly “sorry. Bad dreams recently” you shove the blanket off your lap as excitement finally makes its way throughout your body. You throw your arms around the boy's neck and hug him gently but quickly. “Are you okay? Why are you out of bed?!” one of his arms, the one without the IV, wraps around your back “i’m okay. I wanted to wake you, I’m sorry i couldn’t wait any longer” you pull back and smile as you look into his eyes, your hands staying on his neck “how long have you been up? You should have woken me at the exact moment. Izuku I missed you so much you have no idea how worried i’ve been” you from and he chuckles, reaching up to push your frown into a smile “you looked so peaceful and lovely i couldn't bring myself to. Mr. Aizawa has told me a little about how worried you’ve been.” you help him stand and help him back to his bed, your face flushed knowing that Aizawa talked about you. 

 “Has the doctor come in?” he nods “she told me everything and answered all my questions, and the nurses too. They all love you, you know. Raved about how sweet you were and how moved they are that you’ve been so dedicated to me. Half of them think we’re dating” you laugh uncomfortably, turning away to pull the chair closer before you sat down again “is that so?” you say.

“What was your bad dream about? Will you tell me?” his voice was soft and you sighed, your eyes moving up from the stain on the chair to meet his green eyes again, “it wasn’t nice and it is really dumb, are you sure you want to hear it?” he nods and you nod as well, looking down at your hands in your lap, turning them to look at your palms as you relay the dream to him, leaving out the part where he told you he could never love you, though, didn't want to confess just yet. “Please look at me” his voice was quiet, you looked slowly up into his eyes, he’s smiling softly and his eyes are gentle “it isn’t dumb. and I want to protect you. I hate seeing you get hurt. I would never ever think like that. Okay?” you nod and smile, a load felt like it was taken from your shoulders, you didn’t even feel like it bothered you this much. “Thank you, Izuku” you clear your throat and begin to fold your blanket in your lap “do you know when you can go home?” he sighs “not till tomorrow morning, have to keep me overnight for observations” you smile and take his hand on the bed “i am so glad you’re awake and okay” his heart is racing as hard ad yours was and his cheeks begin to flush so he looks away from you and changes the topic. 

You spent the rest of the day with him, catching up on what he missed and playing some card games. You were so relieved he was okay and coming home. The rest of the class showed up as well his Mom (who stayed the rest of the day with you both) and the class brought so many watermelons you didn't know what to do with half of them. You ended up giving them to some of the hospital staff. 

The next morning you met Izuku at the hospital to go home with him, smiling and bouncing on your toes, excited to show him what you did in his room. When you get there you ask him to close his eyes as you enter, he laughs but still follows your orders when your hand goes up to cover his eyes. 

“I hope you like it Izuku” you whisper before you drop your hand, you left the light on all night and brought in your blackout curtains to make sure the whole room was pitch black. When he opened his eyes he was greeted with the most beautiful display of glow in the dark stars and planets, exact constellations spread out around his ceiling and walls, all of the ones you guys found together one night after a big fight with a villain when you both couldn’t sleep and you snuck out to the roof.

 His hand finds yours in the dark and he laces your fingers together “y/n I…” you swallow hard, your stomach filled with knots of excitement and butterflies “do you like it?” you whisper and he chuckles “I love it. It’s so amazing” you feel relieved “i’m so glad” he pulls you into his arms into a hug that feels like it reached your very core. 

Something about the darkness made you feel bolder, maybe because you couldn’t see his face, you grab fistfuls of his shirt across his back, burying your face into his neck whispering “you are my sun and stars, Izuku” his heart stopped and he froze, did you really say that or is this a dream? It takes him a good second to restart his heart and pull you tighter against his chest. “And you are mine” he says and pulls back, reaching up to cup your cheek in the dark, his thumb tracing your bottom lip before he leans down, pressing his lips gently to yours.

[generallybarzy]

smile like sunshine v

Wednesday: ~8.2k

previous chapters: i // ii // iii // iv

an: Here it is!!! Sorry it took so long, I had stuff going on and started a new job and everything, but I think the final product is worth the wait. From here on out there’s gonna be a warning for nsfw stuff and lowkey smut (no spoilers though). Buckle up kiddos. @thirteenisles thanks for proofreading this!!!!!

summary: It’s your 21st birthday, and you want to spend some alone time with Mat! As the days of your trip keep rolling by, it becomes harder and harder to suppress the fantasies, the feelings you had towards him: desire, longing, lust, love. It’s getting harder and harder to fight your feelings, and even the alcohol doesn’t do much to help you ignore Mat. In fact, the alcohol might have made it worse...

It’s 2019, exactly eleven years after your tenth birthday, and Mat is determined to make this year even better than before.

The first thing you felt was his lips on yours.  

You’d remember the softness, the care, for years to come, maybe even- dare you say- for the rest of your life. They were so gentle, so caring, moving against yours, pushing and pulling like the tides, while his fingers grazed across your jaw and his big hands cupping your face to pull you deeper into his mouth; to mold your face- your body- against his.

When you pulled back to take a breath, you caught a glimpse of his eyes, kind and searching, filled with questions he’d never ask. You wanted to ask what was wrong, you wanted to get him to spill his words, spill his heart in front of you, but your throat closed up and no words came. Instead, you were back on his mouth with more desperate longing than before- filling the hole of unspoken words with passion and need. His mouth was inviting, caressing, and warm, his lips hopeful and confident against yours. But when the kiss was broken and you leaned back to look at the face cradled between your palms, something struck you.

There was nothing familiar about this face. In fact, there were no distinguishing features at all. What color were his eyes? What did his hair look like? Who was this? You couldn’t say. All you could tell was what it felt like to have his mouth on yours.

The breeze ruffled your hair, the waves crashed on the beach, and finally, you could hear his voice:

“Baby.” There it was, the familiarity, the warmth of his words, and the soothingness of his voice oozing over you, making your heart sickly sweet and saccharine. “Baby.” He repeated it over and over again, and you could listen to him say it over and over again, marveling at how right it sounded coming from his lips. The effect he had on you with just his voice- his mere presence even- would never cease to amaze you.

And there he was.

“Mat.” You reached for him, only hoping your voice had the same effect on him that he had on you.

He reached for you, and his touch ignited fires along your skin, both hot and cold where his fingertips grazed along your arm.

You touched his chest, slid your hand across tight pectorals and down, down to the taut muscles of his abdomen. If you’ve ever seen anyone built like a Greek God, it was him. Golden and built, he was never one to brag, though he certainly had plenty to brag about. His smile- gleaming white, perfect and teasing, always able to make your heart flutter- had your knees giving out beneath you, but he caught you with his strong, waiting arms. His words, smooth and sweet like honey, coated your body and had your clothes all but sliding off of your body on their own. His big hands had you squirming and begging silently with pleading eyes, as he kneaded and caressed your skin with touches at the same time overwhelmingly gentle and rough. And he happily obliged to your begging. The ‘V’ at his hips made your body flutter in need, made you giddy and excited. You knew what lay beyond, that ‘V’, and you knew how good it would feel when you finally connected. When you finally found each other and nodded your consent to have him sink against you, foreheads touching and breath mingling. When you finally became one being together.

You were weightless, floating in the air together as he held you against him, your bodies molding together perfectly, pushing and pulling with you, rocking breathlessly with each other. There was no desperation, no rush- you had each other and you had time, all the time in the world- and he was hot and heavy and slow inside of you. And with your bodies molded into each other tightly, you were able to push and pull steadily, all the way to the end, when sweat beaded on your foreheads, your breath came out in short pants against each other’s mouths, your hands tangled together and through each other’s hair, and your hearts glowed, complete and absolutely ready to let go together.

“(Y/N).”

“Mat.”

“(Y/N)?” He kept saying it, over and over, until his lips froze in place and his questioning face began to fade from your view, his hands dissolving from your body, leaving you empty and alone and on the edge, with his voice rumbling through your ear. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N).”

You opened your eyes.

“(Y/N). Hey, wake up, birthday girl!”

You groaned, rolling over and pulling the pillow over your face, trying your hardest to ignore the dull throbbing in your core. Right there? He had to wake you up right there? Fuck, it felt so real. You could practically feel his hands, feel his body beneath your fingers, feel his- “C’mon, we’ve got stuff to do today, sleepyhead!”

You couldn’t even look at him after that dream. That dream of your best friend kissing you, touching you, loving you. He had looked so real, he had felt so real. How could you just go about your day as if you hadn’t dreamt of that? As if you hadn’t felt that? God, he had no idea, did he? You pulled the pillow away, and there he was.

Just as beautiful as always.

He was sitting cross-legged at the foot of your bed, toying with the edge of your sheets. His skin had tanned gorgeously in the past days and looked so golden and warm to the touch, his hair falling dark and wavy onto his forehead until he reached up and pushed it back. The way his fingers slid so smoothly through the black locks just proved they were as soft as you’d always suspected, and it was an internal battle to not reach up and let your hands glide through them yourself. His hazel eyes locked with yours with a mischievous gleam, and you were so caught up in the golden brown-green mix that you didn’t even catch the little smirk on his moving lips.

“Hey, sleepyhead, focus.”

“‘S’too early…”

“It’s nine o’clock.” He laughed and dodged the pillow you’d thrown. “Hey, you’re finally twenty-one! We can drink together tonight!”

“Stupid U.S. drinking age…”

He laughed again. Ever since the first time you reconnected with him in that bar last year, he’d always teased you about still being a year too young to drink with him. “C’mon, I’m taking you out today.”

“To drink?”

“Not yet, that happens later. First, I’ve got stuff planned for the next few hours. We’re going to the boardwalk, for old time’s sake.” Out of seemingly nowhere, he grabbed the cute outfit he’d bought for you your first day here and tossed it towards you. “Get dressed, let’s go recreate some memories!” It took everything in you not to stare when he stood up to leave and you realized he was only wearing boxer briefs with his tee-shirt.

Fuck, you were gonna have to drink a lot tonight to forget about that dream…

You had celebrated your birthday with Mat once before, when you were turning ten years old. Even back then, you realized, Mat had always made it his job to hype you up and make sure you had the best day possible.

You woke up on the morning of your tenth birthday to knocking at the back door of your family’s beach house, and when your parents called you to the door he greeted you with a big, bright smile. His smile. A smile like sunshine. “Happy birthday! You hit double digits! We’re doing whatever you want all day!”

That wasn’t entirely true, you knew even as a child. You would’ve been content hanging out with him on the beach and not doing anything birthday related, but what he wanted for you was so much more than what you wanted for yourself.  

After hanging out for only a week so far, this boy already wanted the best for you.

“Please, please!” Mat tugged at his mom’s sleeve, whining and begging until he got her attention. He was stubborn but cute, and it wasn’t hard for him to get his way. His mom was talking with yours and watching Mat’s younger sister, and your mom was holding one of your younger siblings in her arms. Both his parents and yours seemed to have their attention on the younger children rather than the two of you, but that was fine because you had each other. “We wanna go to the boardwalk! It’s (Y/N)’s  birthday, we wanna do something!”

The parents exchanged glances- finally looking down to you and Mat- and it didn’t take long for them to cave. The boardwalk- with all its carnival games and snacks and beautiful view of the ocean- would be fun for all the kids, they decided.

You and Mat shouted in excitement as you walked hand in hand together, gleeful and carefree, smiling as bright as the sun and pointing at rides you wanted to go on and games you wanted to play. You had the whole day to yourselves, it seemed, even though your parents were only feet behind you, watching the two of you skip next to the ocean, hand in hand and eating ice cream, squealing when it started to melt in the sun and racing each other to finish first before it dripped all over your hands.

They knew how much you cared for each other- it was cute- and if you two were any older it could’ve been a problem, but luckily that wasn’t the case.

If only you could be that carefree and innocent for the rest of your life.

Now, at 21 years old, it was obvious Mat still cared that much for you, and set higher standards for everyone around you than you set for them yourself. He was always the one to correct people if they were wrong about something you wanted or something you ordered, and was the first to tell you when he suspected someone had less than decent intentions at a bar. He always asked if you were having fun when you were all out with friends, and he always kept a watchful eye on you. He always wanted you to be alright. He always wanted everything to be perfect for you.

You were sure he was just taking his place of being the big brother you never had, but part of your hopeless romantic mind- that you constantly shook away- hoped it meant more.

"Oh, woah, I haven't been here in a long time." You watched Mat's cute face as he glanced around, squinting his pretty hazel eyes in the sunshine from beneath his hat. The boardwalk that had been the sight of yours and Mat’s childhood summer all those years ago was a long, wooden walkway, running parallel to the beach and bordered on the other side with food vendors and touristy gift shops, and once you walked far enough, one end was filled with carnival-like games and rides that had been plenty of fun when you were children. "It hasn't changed much since we were kids, has it?"

"No, not really."

“It’s like we stepped back in time.” You watched him reach two fingers up to tuck a loose strand of dark hair into his hat, mesmerized with how gentle his touches were. He had a small, gentle smile on his face, seeming completely at peace and calm. Spending the past few days in the humidity and salty air had his hair all fluffy and just begging you to touch them and he was currently sporting some really cute, short, beachy waves that suited him so well. His skin had tanned gorgeously and you really weren’t sure how you were going to last three more days with him.

Only three more days? You could’ve sworn you just got here. Fuck, time seemed to pass so quickly whenever you were here, whenever you were with Mat. Only need to ignore him for three more days, (Y/N). you thought to yourself. Only three more days, and then you can forget about this silly crush. No use in ruining a great friendship for the sake of some summer fling.

You shook away the thoughts and decided to focus on the moment, to make every second with him count before you were back to work and Mat was back to practice and games and his other friends. “So, what do you have planned for me?”

Mat had been watching you think, wondering what it was that had you scrunching your face up so cutely like that, before he heard the words leave your lips. “Actually, it’s right here. I was searching up things we could do together here and this sounded perfect…” The smile in his voice made you nervous- there was barely a moment with him where he played it safe, and he was never one to back away from challenges, so you could only guess what he had in store. But you didn’t have much time to guess before the roller skate rental booth came into sight.

“No way, Mat.”

“Yep.” He popped the ‘P’, pulling out his wallet. “Remember the first time we met up in that coffee shop, the day after you found me? When you dared me to teach you how to skate?”

You did.

You had been sitting by the window with your drink, giddy and excited over everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. A simple hockey game with your roommate had turned into a reunification with your friend from ten years ago, who had obviously made it big places in his life since then. Despite the joy and relief you felt after finally knowing who he was and knowing he still remembered you, you were nervous about the thought of reconnecting with Mat- what if he was a dick, or tried to hit on you, or was just… different? He certainly couldn’t be the same as he was ten years ago, after all the awards and trophies and high expectations, all the fans wearing his jersey and all the merch with his name on it. That type of attention gets to your head and changes people, doesn’t it? Then Mat sat down across from you, and, at his appearance, you set your phone down and looked up at him with an adorable awestruck smile Mat could still remember to this day. “Holy shit, Mat, I googled you last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t want to seem creepy, but I just figured out one of my childhood best friends turned into this huge NHL star, how could I resist it?”

“Star?” He smiled from where he sat across from you, running a hand through his hair. “Damn, you really shouldn’t have. Now you probably think I’m a pretentious dick. I’m not really that big and famous.”

The way he waved his hand and pushed away any thought that he was this big, grand all star and kept his humility made you smile. “Um, I‘m sure you are. You’re like, a big name in hockey right now, aren’t you? I watched some game highlights of you. I don’t understand a lot about hockey, but I’m pretty sure other people know what they're talking about- like my roommate who brought me to the game last night- and they seemed to be really impressed with you. Apparently you’re only expected to get better, too” He only shrugged, smiling. He knew he was good, sure, but to hear you compliment him like this was making him so unbelievably happy. You were proud of him, and that made a certain nostalgic part of his heart glow.

“Well, I told back then I was gonna make it, didn’t I? Guess I was right.“

“Yeah, you were.” You took a moment to let it sink in that you were here with Mat again, after all these years. And in that moment, it felt like you were ten again, sitting across from Mat and sharing secrets at the picnic table on the beach while your families chatted and made lunch. Time passed by much too quickly, you decided, and you wanted to make every second with him count. “I don’t know how much this means to you- since we barely know each other and all- but I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah? Good.”

“I don’t understand how you can just… well, first of all, skate so damn well and then also do all that fancy stuff with the puck at the same time. The only time I tried to skate, it was bad. Like, really ugly.”

“Oh yeah?” A laugh bubbled from his lips, one that would have your knees shaking had you not been sitting down. “Guess I’ll have to teach you sometime, how about that?” Mat had a flirtatious tone in his voice that made your cheeks warm, very obviously asking you out again, but back then you had either ignored or been oblivious to it, thinking it was only a friendly suggestion.

“I dare you.”

“Ooh, okay, bet. Challenge accepted.”

“Yeah? Good luck, I’m pretty unteachable when it comes to that.”

“I promise, once I’m done with you, you’ll be a star.” He laughed, a playful gleam in his eyes as he added a final sentence. “Just like me.”

“Shit, I did dare you to give me skating lessons, didn’t I?”

“Well, since I can’t exactly teach you to ice skate out here, might as well try this, right? Rollerblades are the closest thing.” He turned to the man behind the counter and handed him the money for the rentals before coming back and handing you your pair.

“So of all the things we could do on my birthday, you decided to put me through misery?”

He laughed at your joking dramatics. “Yeah, absolutely. Tough love, right?”

If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be learning to skate with an NHL star, you would have laughed in their face. You? Skating? That just wasn’t something that happened. But you weren’t gonna lie, ever since the moment Mat promised to teach you, you’d been fantasizing about this moment. Mat’s big hands on your waist, your hips, in your hands, pushing and pulling you along and steadying you so you wouldn’t fall. You, tripping and falling into his chest and laughing with him as he held you up. Making soft eye contact as you leaned up and smiled into a kiss against his lips-

“(Y/N).” You snapped out of your thoughts to look at Mat. Obviously, his legs were accustomed to skating after years and years of playing hockey, and he was already rollerblading in circles in front of you, absolutely amazing at it and completely in his comfort zone. Shit, his legs were so strong and thick and hot… “You can’t exactly learn to skate while sitting there, ya know.”

You caught the glint of amusement in Mat’s hazel eyes and rose to your feet, wobbly and off-balance and already almost falling. “Well then help me out a bit. Not everyone’s a star like you.”

“Not yet.”

His hands fell heavily onto your hips, so big and strong that it seemed as if he could break you with only a touch, and he steadied you against him- body to hard body- until you stopped shaking and were balanced evenly on the ground. Then, his hands slid off of you and he backed away, taking your hands in his. You felt so small, so delicate and fragile compared to him, and the way his hands could easily encase yours made you feel so safe, and you once again found yourself trusting him to do absolutely anything.

“Okay, come on. Just like you’re walking, but…” His words glided over you like honey, thick and smooth in the warm air, and you could barely focus on what he was saying, too caught up in the way it felt to hold his hand and the way he looked down at you and had you weak in the knees. Your mind floated back to your dream last night, still vivid and so, so realistic in your head. The way he touched you, caressed you, the way his thick fingers dug into your hips to tug you closer to him, the way he held your hand and locked eyes with you… “You’re doing good so far.”  

“Yeah, until you let go of me.”

“Well, then I guess I just won’t.”

And he didn’t.

The two of you skated and laughed in the sunshine for what felt like forever, and you decided quickly that if you ever needed to go to a happy place in your mind, it would be right here, right now, rollerblading face to face with Mat, his hands holding you steady, his eyes on you as he skated backwards. “You’re doing great, damn, you’re not that hard to teach, actually.” He kept complimenting you, only adding to the red in your cheeks. How dare he go around looking so cute and complimenting you so nicely? He certainly wasn’t helping your growing feelings. Can’t he have just one flaw? Just one deal breaker so this stupid crush could be over with?

Without warning, Mat let go of your hands, leaving you to panic and stumble. “Mat, what the hell!” You grabbed for his arm frantically as you started to lose your balance.

“Just wanted to see how you’d fare on your own. C’mon, I know you can do it without my help.” He left his spot in front of you and came to your side, smiling down at you and delicately peeling your arms off of him.

“No, no at least hold my hand, Mat.”

“Alright. But I'm not pulling you anymore. You’re better than you think.” He wrapped one hand around yours, your forearms resting against each other in a gentle embrace and his face warmed up at the simple contact. Fuck, he would gladly hold your hand forever if he could. If that’s what you wanted. Maybe all this had all just subconsciously been an elaborate plan to allow him to hold your hand. “There you go. See, you’re great!”

“Define great.”

He laughed, and the two of you continued your little trip down the boardwalk. It wasn’t long before you hit the carnival area, where there were rides and games and food stands and prizes to win, and you were quickly reminded how childish Mat could be, as you watched his eyes dart around in glee, pointing out all the different things you could do. “Oooh, you want me to win you a big ass teddy bear?”

“No, Mat.”

“What about a fish?”

“No, Mat, I’m fine! Having you here is enough of a present.”

Mat’s heart almost burst at your little compliment, and he smiled for a moment, his face turning pink. His hand squeezed around yours in acknowledgment, a tiny thank you, an ‘I feel the same way’. ”Why don’t you make it over to that bench without my help and then we’ll rest for a little, alright?” Mat had to physically restrain himself from adding “baby” to the end of his sentence. No, he couldn’t call you that. Not out loud. Not yet.

“Alright, I’ll try.”

Yeah, you were actually pretty good at rollerblading now. Well, not pretty good, but you were good enough to do it by yourself. You just really, really wanted to hold Mat’s hand. “Whew! You’re actually not as bad a student as you told me.” Mat laughed and pulled you into a celebratory hug with a little cheer when you made it to the bench.

“Well, you’re a pretty good teacher, Maty.”

“How about we finish this lesson later? Let’s get you some ice cream as a reward for going through that for my amusement? For old time’s sake?”

“Yeah, I absolutely deserve ice cream. You think you still remember my favorite flavor?.” Mat’s face lit up at the suggestion of a challenge- though you’d been half joking. He was never one to shy away from dares.  

“Ooh, okay, bet. Stay here. I’ll get them for us.” Before you could even open your mouth and insist you pay for your share, he was holding up a hand to shut you up. “Yes, I’m paying for you. It’s your birthday, let me treat you.”

“Alright, fine, fine.” You held up your hands in mock surrender. “And don’t worry. I’ll eat whatever flavor you get me, even if it’s wrong.”

“It won’t be wrong. Trust me.”

And oh, you trusted him.

So you sat and stared after him, caught in a trance as he rolled so gracefully to where the line was and watching from a distance at the way his lips moved when he talked- wondering how they would feel against your own, if it would feel the same as it did in your dream- the way they curled up at the ends in a polite little smile when he was handed the two cones. When he finally came back over to you, asking “Did I get it right, (Y/N)?” and watching your reaction, something else caught your eyes: the familiar pink hue of his ice cream.

“Oh my god, Mat!” His face twisted momentarily into a worried expression, but lightened up into a smile when he heard the laughter bubbling onto your lips. “I can’t believe you still get bubblegum ice cream!”

He let out his own laugh, sitting down next to you and handing you your cone. "Hey! Don't diss it 'till you try it!"

"No, I did try it! I tried it because of you, remember?” A vivid memory popped into Mat’s head of the two of you, sitting very close to this exact spot and licking the ice cream off of your hands as it melted in the sun. You had begged him to try it, intrigued by the colorful look and the fact that you’d never heard of this flavor before, and he happily swapped cones with you until your parents realized and scolded the two of you about germs. “I’m just pretty sure you're the only grown man I know who would admit to liking that flavor.”

“Yeah? Well, they just don’t know how fucking delicious it is.”

You smiled at the ground, at how unbelievable it was that you still remembered all these small, seemingly insignificant details about him after so many years. From the first picture you saw of him when you recognized the gleam of his hazel eyes, the way his lips moved when he smiled, to this very moment that had you looking back at the first days of your friendship, you realized you still remembered things about him that you couldn’t even remember about your closest friends. His favorite flavor of ice cream, every little nervous tick, the way he constantly fidgeted his hands and scratched his face, every little quirk of his. “It’s actually been a while since I had that, you know.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I have to remind you what it tastes like.”

“Maybe you do.”

“Only if you let me try yours again.”

So Mat extended his arm for you and you extended yours, and the way you locked eyes with a mischievous smile before licking each other’s ice cream cones felt way, way too intimate for what was just a simple cute gesture that you’d done as kids.

Some things never change, but your feelings sure do.

The walk back home was fun- as everything was when Mat was there- fun and nostalgic. Your conversation focused mainly on the summer you met, how much fun you had, and how much you changed. You’d never been one to celebrate your birthday, not with a party anyway, but obviously, Mat wanted more for you than you wanted for yourself, so the second you stepped back into the house, smiling and laughing, mid-conversation with Mat, you were startled.

“Surprise!”

“Holy shit.”

The house had been decorated- it was simple, but still memorable- with generic birthday decorations and balloons, much like the party you’d had at ten years old, when the only person you could celebrate with was Mat. Your family was standing around the table, where there were chips, ice cream, cake and- of course- alcohol. You glanced over at Mat, who had that classic, cheeky grin across his face. Of course he would.

“Happy twenty-first!”

“Come on, birthday girl!” Your dad lit the candles on the cake. “Come make a wish.”

And wish you did. You closed your eyes and let out a breath and you wished for Mat’s hands in yours, Mat’s lips on yours, Mat’s body against yours, Mat’s heart loving yours. You wished for Mat.

“Alright, are you guys gonna let me drink today or what?”

Your family laughed as they dug into the cake and motioned to the alcoholic drinks set out on the table and you picked up a random bottle- some sort of flavored vodka?- but Mat came up from where he had been lingering behind you and took the drink out of your hands. “Let me mix something up for you that’s actually tasty, alright? You want your first time to be a good one, right?”

You tried to ignore the shiver that crept up your spine at his words, and having him so close behind you. “Ooh, you know how to mix drinks? A man of many talents.”

“Well, I know a few.” He gathered up some ingredient that you were sure he sent your parents to get while the two of you were gone. “I can make you something that tastes good, but if you drink enough it will have you fucked up beyond recognition by tonight. If you’re okay with that, anyway.”

You laughed. You were never the type to get fucked up drunk, but Mat made you brave, he made you adventurous, so why not? Anyway, you had spent the entire day lingering on the memories of your dream last night and blushing at whatever he did, so you needed to forget about this stupid crush and loosen up around him again. “Alrighty, Barzal. Fuck me up."

“I promise.”

Mat felt so nervous about getting you drunk tonight. Sure, it’s your twenty-first birthday and you were asking him to and he couldn’t wait to see what you were like drunk, but he also knew part of him was going to feel so guilty the next morning when you were hungover, and he didn’t want anything to happen to you. So he promised himself he was going to stay sober and keep an eye on you at all times tonight and make sure you’re alright. What kind of a friend would he be otherwise?

As Mat got to work mixing up a drink for you and shooed you out of the kitchen with a piece of birthday cake, you sat down on the back porch with your mom, looking out to the ocean and eating your cake in silence as she flipped through a book.

“That Mathew is quite the boy.”

“He is.”

“He’s always been this sweet to you, hasn’t he? Since you were nine.”

“Yeah. He’s pretty great.”

“You like him?” You glanced over to where your mom was smirking at you from her chair and heaved out a frustrated groan.

“Mom, I can be friends with a guy without being in love with them, you know.” And yeah, you could have male friends without being in love with them, but… Mat was an exception to that. He was the one male friend that you had less than platonic feelings for. Not that you’d admit it to her.

“Alright, alright.” She held up her hands in mock surrender and laughed. “But I’m just saying-”

“Mom, don’t-”

“-He’s much nicer to you than any of your past boyfriends were.” You went silent then, and you knew your mom had won the conversation. Yeah, Mat was better to you than any of your exes. Whether that was saying something about how bad your exes were of how good Mat is, you couldn’t be sure. No, your exes hadn’t been that bad. “I wonder if Mat would like to see these photos.”

“What photos?” You glanced over to what she was looking at and finally noticed the photo album from 2008. “Woah, look at us!”

There on the page in front of you were four of the many pictures of you and Mat as children. Obviously you had been the closest of friends, as there were hardly any pictures of either of you alone that summer. If you were there, Mat was there, and if Mat was there, you were there. That’s how it had gone that week. How your parents had ever managed to separate the two of you at the end of the week to drive home was beyond you. Your eyes lingered for a moment longer and the picture of the two of you standing in front of the sandcastle you’d built on the first day you met. Mat’s arm was over your shoulder, and yours over his, and he was smiling that same smile he had today, the one that was impossible to not smile back to. You felt as if you had been sucked back in time, and didn’t realize you were staring at the picture until you heard the door open and close.

“I got your drink.”

“Mat, you gotta look at these with me!” Your mom got up to leave the two of you alone, and you didn’t miss the smirk on her face before she disappeared into the house.

“No way, that’s us?” Mat sat down next to you, way, way too close for friends, practically pressing against your side. “We’re so young.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. We were really close, huh?” And you were really close right now, too, sitting with your arms and thighs touching, half of his chest against your back. You scooted to the side a bit to make more room for him, but he stayed where he was, leaning over your shoulder to look at the pictures. “We’re still pretty close, aren’t we? I mean, in the last year or so we’ve really reconnected. I’d say you’re one of my best friends now.”

Best friends, best friends, best friends. That’s all you were, and that’s all you would stay. But that was alright with you, as long as you could still see him every day. “Aww, Mat. You’re not allowed to make me emotional on my birthday!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He smiled and had your heart fluttering in your chest. “Hey, hey, try your drink.” He handed you the glass and watched with a smile as you tasted it. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, it is actually. Is there even any alcohol in this? I can barely taste it.”

“Oh, yeah. After this, you’ll definitely be getting tipsy, trust me.”

“Great, thank you so much, Maty. But can we go on a walk when that happens? I don’t need my family to have blackmail of me.”

He laughed again, tossing a big arm over your shoulders and looking back to the pictures. “Anything for you.”

A few hours later, after the obligatory singing of the “Happy Birthday'' song and after you had eaten your pizza delivery for dinner, when you were sipping slowly on your second drink and were beginning to feel it, you and Mat walked down to the beach together, comfortable in the peaceful quietness that settled between you. Something you loved about Mat from the first day you met him was how there was never an awkward moment with him. No matter who you were, he always made you feel welcome and accepted and smiled and urged you on gently even as you stumbled over your words, his attention never leaving you. He always made you feel like you were the only person in the world, and you were grateful.

“Today was fun.”

“Party doesn’t start until you can’t walk straight, right?” Mat laughed, but deep inside he wasn’t sure he was ready to see you drunk. Before he could question why you wanted to get drunk so bad, or if there was something you wanted to get your mind off of, a small round object fell in front of his field of vision and a dog jumped up at him. “Oh, holy shit!”

“It’s not over yet. You haven’t even finished your second drink.”

“You’re right.” You giggled a little bit. “I can still walk in a straight line, so I’m not drunk enough.”

He heard you laugh next to him and his heart calmed down. “Don’t like dogs, Barzal?”

“I don’t…. dislike dogs.” He leaned down to pet it almost politely, like the way you would smile at a stranger when making eye contact with them on the street. “It just came up out of nowhere. Spooked me.”

“Yeah, alright. Spooked you.” You had no idea how this dog could look threatening to anybody- it was a small dog, but not a small dog like a chihuahua or anything, it was a golden retriever puppy and it was all fluffy and smiling it’s little puppy smile with big dark eyes. It was so cute. You knelt down to pet the dog and coo to it in a baby voice, and Mat’s heart almost melted at the sight.

“Hey, sorry!” The two of you looked up to see a young man- around your age- rushing down from a group of people hanging out on the beach. He leaned down to pick up the puppy, and Mat leaned down to grab the ball that had landed in front of the two of you.

“That’s fine! What’s your dog’s name?”

“Ah, this is Pippy! She’s about three months old!”

“Aww, she’s so cute!”

Mat hated the pang of jealousy he felt. He didn’t want to feel this way over a fucking dog, but he wished you looked at him the same way you were looking at that puppy right now. As Mat handed the ball back to him, he couldn’t help but glance up the beach and recognize what they had been playing. “Spikeball?”

“Yeah.” Before he turned around to head back up to his friends, he hesitated. “Actually, do you guys want to join in? My teammate’s getting tired of playing, so I could use another guy.”

“Yeah? What d’you think?” Mat glanced down at you as if asking permission. It was your birthday, after all.

“Well, I’m not any good at it.”

“Oh don’t worry.” The guy assured you. “None of us are.”

“Alright, sure. You have alcohol up there?”

“Oh yeah, Definitely.”

Before your worries could make you hesitate to join this group of strangers, you and Mat were exchanging names with your new, temporary friends. Normally, you couldn’t just immerse yourself within a group out of nowhere, so it was amazing how simple it was to make friends when the alcohol was making you braver. It was loud and hot and exciting when you played on Mat’s team, every now and then bumping into each other and laughing, cheeks burning and hearts heavy at the contact. The sun went down and darkness rolled in, and you had taken a break from playing and sat back on the sand with three other girls around the fire, sipping on a new drink- your last of the night, as you were definitely out of it now- and watching the boys.

“Nothing like watching the boys play, huh?” One of the girls spoke up from beside you, nudging your side. “Where’d you get a guy like that?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, girl!” Another spoke up, laughing a bit. “If you don’t mind me saying- Mat is so. Freaking. Hot. Like, hot damn. You’re so lucky.”

Oh. Oh, they thought Mat was your boyfriend. Your face heated up- no, scratch that. It was already flushed because of all the alcohol, and you looked up to where Mat was, shirtless and golden in the light of the fire, a radiant smile on his face as he competed with the other guys. You watched as his body stretched up in a little jump to hit the ball over to his partner, and took the moment to admire the way his muscles moved, trying to imagine how he would feel on you- on your body, your waist, your mouth, your core--

When you first started drinking tonight, it was in a desperate last attempt to get Mat off of your mind. To get yourself to loosen up a bit around him and not feel so flustered and shy whenever he was near. Maybe you thought it would make you forget him, but you were certainly wrong, because all the feelings you had before had only been heightened a hundred times since you started drinking, and now Mat was the only thing on your mind. This only thing you could focus on properly. In fact, the alcohol had opened the floodgates of lewd ideas and images of you and Mat that you had previously tried to keep locked away in a far part of your brain. This was your friend, you didn’t want to be thinking these things. But fuck it was so hard not to when he looked like that and acted like that and treated you like that.

“Yeah, he’s fucking hot alright.”

“I bet he’s packin’ too, right?”

You didn’t say yes or no to that, but the way your face split into a wide grin at the thought of what was beneath those shorts was enough to convince the girls you knew and had them whooping and cheering with laughter. In your drunken state, maybe you didn't realize you probably shouldn't be talking about your best friend's dick- which you hadn't even fully seen- but you really didn't care. "Yeah, the best dick out there."

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to dark, hot places. You’d definitely seen Mat in his underwear one or two times during your friendship, and had totally seen a dick print or outline here or there. So from what you could see of him… he must feel fucking good. His big hands gripping you, his fingers, his lips… his soft hair falling down against your stomach, his thighs. Everything about him made you hot and bothered. So you sat there, your cheeks hot and your body throbbing at just the mere idea of what he could do to you. The dream from last night popped into your head, the way, he held you so good, so tight, the way his fingers dug into your hips and pulled you in, the way he filled you up so good and had you crying out for more. It may have only been a dream, but fuck, it felt so real.

It was at this moment that Mat looked over from where he was standing to check up on you and saw you drunkenly smiling up at him from across the fire, and he couldn’t help but laugh at the state you were in. He turned back to the guys and motioned back to you. “Right, I think we should get going now.”

“Alright, it was fun!” And then, catching a glimpse of you stumbling to your feet behind Mat, they laughed. “Take care of your girlfriend, looks like she has a few too many tonight.”

Mat’s heart fluttered in his chest. ‘Your girlfriend. Your girlfriend. Your girlfriend.’ He could listen to people calling you his girlfriend forever. It suited you so well- he suited you so well. He would have sat and watched you and let his mind wander, but it was getting late, and he’d promised to have you home before midnight., so his only job right now was to keep you safe. So he was over by your side in seconds, not hesitating to secure an arm around your waist to steady you.

“C’mon, (Y/N).”

“Be safe you guys!”

Mat smiled as the two of you left your little group and headed back up the beach towards home. Wow, they thought you were dating. The two of you passed as boyfriend and girlfriend to strangers, and he didn’t even bother to correct them. Oh, god. He was so fucking ruined for you.

“You look good tonight, Mat.”

You wrapped your arms around his middle and stumbled into him, pressing your face into his side. Usually, Mat loved affection from you, but now, it felt wrong. He wanted you to hug him, he wanted you to be affectionate with him, but he wanted it when you were sober. He wanted you to be aware of what you were doing, and he didn’t want you to regret it the next morning. “Yeah? Thanks. You look nice too, even if you’re a little plastered.”

“Thanks, Matyyyyy.” Mat couldn’t help but laugh at how cute you were while drunk. “You always look nice, though. No matter what you’re wearing. Maybe you don’t even need to wear clothes. You’re always hot.” Hot. You thought he was hot. Yeah, Mat might have already known he was pretty good looking, but to hear you call him hot meant a lot to him. But… he just wished you weren’t drunk right now. He wished you were choosing to call him hot. Mat was silent for a little while, contemplating your words and trying to figure out what to reply with, when you stumbled and tripped through the sand, obviously too fucked to even walk straight by now, and Mat held you tighter to steady you again.

“God, your parents are gonna be pissed with me for getting you so wasted.”

“Ehh, fuck what they think! I just wanna have fun with youuu.” He smiled at your words and laughed as you hiccuped a little bit. "I had a dream about you last night. It was reaaaaally interesting."

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The alcohol was messing with your senses, and it took only a moment for you to make the decision- the wrong decision- to open up about your dream. “It was hot. You were naked; we were naked. And we were goin’ at it, ya know? We were really goin’ at it.” Mat’s heart stopped, his breath hitched in his throat, and heat flooded through his body. You definitely didn’t mean to tell him that. You’d definitely regret that in the morning. He was definitely going to think of that tonight. “Oh no! You look worried! Don’t worry, you were really good!! Like, really good!”

“Okay, okay. Why don’t you wait till tomorrow to tell me?” He hushed you. As much as he wanted to know how that dream panned out, he also wanted to help you keep some of your dignity.

“I’m gonna forget tomorrow thooouuugh.” A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, and Mat took the moments to try and steady his heart. “You know, Maty, there’s still one birthday gift I haven’t gotten from you.”

“What’s that?”

Before he could do anything else, you were stopping him in his tracks and reaching up to ball your fist into the collar of the unbuttoned shirt he had thrown on, pulling him down to you. He- like a fool- followed you easily, thinking you were trying to whisper something in his ear, but realized much too late that that wasn’t what you were trying to do. Much to Mat’s horror, you pressed your mouth against his- and, even worse, it felt so nice, so perfect. He had waited for months for this exact moment, and though your lips were soft and sweet against his and even more than he could have ever dreamed of, they still tasted like the drinks he had made for you, and your movements were messy and drunken.

Oh fuck, this was what he wanted, and he wanted it so, so bad, so it took everything he had in him to pull his focus away from the way your mouth felt against his, and way your fingers were gripping his hair, and push you back. He took the moment to hold you at arm's length, his hands on your wrists, and his eyebrows creased in thought as he took in the sight of your breathless little smile and glazed over eyes. You looked so happy to have kissed him, but he knew it was only the alcohol.

“Alright, let’s get you home.”

And with that, everything was back to normal as you walked together back to the house with his arm still comfortably around your shoulders. Normal. Could you ever really go back to being normal after this? You had kissed him. Mat had just been kissed by one of his best friends, and he loved it. Fuck, the two of you lasted four days together here without ruining your friendship, but now what? Where could you go from here? Was this the end of a friendship, or the beginning of something even better? Would you even remember this in the morning, or would it be something that Mat had to carry for the rest of your friendship? Had he made it awkward now? Would your family find out? Had he just ruined the vacation?

Mat couldn't stop the thoughts from racing through his mind on the walk back to the house, but there was one constant question that just wouldn't leave:

Why the fuck couldn’t you have just kissed him when you were sober?

[politicalmamaduck]

Reylo Fic Recs: Canonverse

Across the Stars by @rapturousaurora

Hugging Rey close, desperate to feel something of her, her skin against his, a lingering tendril of their once vibrant Force bond—anything—Ben only felt cold silence. Her vacant gaze stared up at the ceiling of the Sith’s Exegol stronghold.And still he felt no anger. No hate. His emotions were dominated by the almost childlike desire to fix what his lifetime of mistakes had broken—Ben wanted to fix her.

With You by @politicalpadme

Ben Solo finds the will to rise.

the shadows are whispering (again) by @thewayofthetrashcompactor

The Force has always had it out for the Skywalkers. Ben feels like he knows that better than most. Why else would it have saddled him with another curse to add to his legacy? (From birth to death and back again.)

Phantasm by @forcebondedreylo

Rey thought that she was finished with Ben Solo after Crait. She was proven otherwise when she crash-landed on a strange and dangerous planet with no way to contact the Resistance. Now Ben Solo might be her only hope of survival, if the deadly inhabitants don't get her first.

The Weight of a Soul by @ceallaigheirinn

“If he is condemned, then his soul shall be cast into oblivion,” the Mother answered. “It will cease to be. Oblivion is beyond the veil that the Force encompasses. His soul would be consumed by nothingness, and Ben Solo would exist on neither the mortal plane or the World Beyond.”

linger in the doorway (of my field of paper flowers) by @mnemehoshiko

She can't tell if she got the better deal or not. Foolish. Did you truly want to waste away in this sand-ridden hell? a voice whispers, low and soft.  No, she thinks, but it would be a familiar hell, at least.

destruction makes the world burn brighter by @cosmicforces

When he was nearly within reach, he extended the blade—or was it his hand?—but everything faded to black before she was certain. Panting, she bolted upright in her bed and wiped away the sweat clinging to her forehead. She’d dreamt of Jakku again.

A New Generation by @aionimica

Ben glances at Rey and quietly asks, “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with a twice-fallen former warlord who doesn’t know what place he has in this galaxy except as a porg-mother?”

In Our Silence, Volumes by @roamingbadger

When Rey senses through their Force Bond that Ben is in trouble, she'll stop at nothing to get to him. But what if he's not ready to be rescued - from himself? 

I Choose You by @shelikespretties

In the throne room, Rey proposes a counter offer.

Breakout by @leofgyth

In which Rey, Finn, and Ben break Ransolm Casterfo out of prison... for reasons.

Oh the Glory of Tenderness by @ann3onymous

Leia Organa taught her little boy how to weave stories with hair. Years later, Ben Solo weaves Rey's hair with promises.

Slipping Off Course by @fingertipstrembling

Between the birth and death of every star stretches a wide expanse of space, a thirsty maw that drinks up all the light it sees and spits back darkness. In the bowels of a star destroyer deep in that darkness, they find each other—the Supreme Leader’s apprentice and a fledgling pilot recruit who outflies and outwits him at every opportunity. Though he fights the pull of the Force, Kylo Ren finds himself reaching for Rey with nothing to stop his fall.

Like This by @kylo-wouldnt-like-those-chips

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... Peace reigns in the galaxy.  Seriously. The Imperial Remnant fizzled out. There is no First Order. There is no Snoke. The worst thing Ben Solo's ever done was some light brawling. The kids are, as they say, more or less alright.Still, the Force has plans for Ben and Rey, which is how they find themselves working for the same civil rights firm, thrown together in a stakeout van.

temptations of grey by @lasthopesolo

Nightmares filled with the ghostly voice of a woman haunt Supreme Leader Kylo Ren; a constant reminder of the discord within. Terrifying dreams plague Rey, casting doubt on choices she’s made. Both find themselves stranded on a humid jungle planet in unknown territory, captured and forced to participate in a strange mystical ceremony. Rey and Kylo must work together in their journey through the jungle, facing themselves and each other in the pursuit of balance.

Wish Upon a Star by @shelikespretties

When Ben Solo exiles himself on a random planet in order to atone, he finds his mother packed him a calligraphy set. He keeps a diary of his existence, while Rey, cut off from him in the Force, tracks him down the only way she can.

Only If for a Night by @reylotrashcompactor and @southsidestory

The night the war ends is a time for victories and change. Maybe, if Rey is lucky, she can win where Ben Solo is concerned. There’s something between them, more than friendship or battle-forged camaraderie, a need that she’s felt threaded along their bond, and she’s tired of ignoring it.

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations. by @shmisolo

Ben woke, but Luke’s saber wasn’t ignited.  Instead, he saw a master who had shattered his trust, who thought he was a monster, and—worse—he was probably right.So he fled Yavin IV, to Skywalker’s dismay, and no one heard from him since.Years later, on a wasteland planet, a girl and a fugitive stormtrooper board a Corellian YT-1300 light freighter in desperation to find they are not the only ones trying to steal it.

In the Footsteps of Giants by @aionimica

Post-Sequel Trilogy; Ben Solo is off in exile, accompanied by Rey. In desperate need of fuel, they stop on Naboo, but their pit stop doesn’t quite go as planned.

build a ladder to the stars by @redbelles

Kylo Ren's heart is a desert.

these violent delights (have violent ends) by @luminoustico

The news runs like a wildfire through the galaxy.Kylo Ren found something, someone, else to believe in. He gutted his master for her life. In return, vestiges of Snoke's power delivered a punishment greater than anything either the fallen Knight or the last Jedi could imagine. Together forever, eternally apart.

Luminous Beings by @hauscrashburn

In order to become a Jedi, Rey must do one thing: Kill Kylo Ren. But how can she when her heart belongs--and has belonged to him--for years now?

Midsummer Night's Shared Dream by @shelikespretties

“We’re not on an approved airfield, but look,” she held out her datapad with the map of the crash location. “Xa-Tla City is on the other side of this forest. We can make it there on foot, and, if we start now, we’ll get there before the solstice celebration begins.” Kylo lifted a mocking eyebrow. “You’d risk the spirits of the forest?”Rey scoffed. “I don’t believe in ghosts. Let’s start walking.”

Spillikin by @ceallaigheirinn

“Forgiving yourself doesn’t mean you have to forget what happened, Ben,” his mother said. “It just means you can finally let go and move forward.”

The Way to Tomorrow by @the-reylo-void

Kylo Ren faces his sentence at the hands of the Resistance: a year of off-world solitary confinement, no communication with the outside world. But it's never that easy to leave old wounds behind. Or such deeply-forged bonds.

Porgs by @tehanufromearthsea

Porgs think of Luke Skywalker as the eccentric but harmless giant who lives on their island. Life on Ahch-To can be pretty dull, so at least Luke gives the Porgs something to watch. Then another of his kind arrives, with her friends, and life on Ahch-To gets a lot more entertaining for the porgs.Then comes the invader...

The Jedi Path by @southsidestory

She’s Ben's world: the only thing he cares about, the only thing he needs, the only one who matters. That interest used to be focused on Rey's power, her talent, her fierce, uncompromising will. Platonic, if not innocent, but now—now he still loves her like a protege, but he wants her too. He wants her, and he can’t keep lying to himself about it.

Yub Nub, and a Celebration Song by @luminoustico

It starts with a forest moon, a destined clash between a scavenger and a knight, and some Very Determined Ewoks.

The Visions That Connect Us by @lariren-shadow

They've seen each other for years before they even meet. Kylo Ren and Rey have visions of the other through out their lives.

Reflektor by @reylotrashcompactor

Kylo Ren isn’t fool enough to believe that her capture was a happy accident. He didn’t believe it was good fortune, and he believed least of all that it had anything to do with the reconnaissance skills of Hux’s half-wit stormtroopers. If they have The Girl Called Rey in custody, it is because she meant for it to happen. It was because she had a plan and this was a step in executing it.

Paper Minds by @kuresoto

At the age of five, Ben Solo built his first droid. At the age of ten, he manifested and started to see her everywhere. At the age of eleven, he was sent to train with Luke. He still saw her. When he was fifteen, she disappeared. He was twenty-three when he left Ben Solo behind and became someone who wouldn’t trust blindly ever again. He became Kylo Ren. He meets her for the first time when he’s on the cusp of turning thirty. These were the events that shaped Ben Solo and in turn, Kylo Ren.

Just A Little Crush by @lariren-shadow

Ben Solo has been away from the Jedi Academy for a few years.  Now that he's back he's developed a little problem his brother is keen on goading him about.

Retrouvailles by @luminoustico

Six months ago, Ben Solo was removed from Rey's side and his uncle's Jedi Academy to take up his mother's mantle as Senator, and to act representative of the Resistance. He has already claimed the reputation of a troublemaker. After Han Solo requests Luke and Rey act as Ben's security intel at a ball in Coruscant, it is underneath the pressure of galactic politics that her world and his new world collide.

Convergence by @the-reylo-void

Whatever the next steps are, I want to take them with you.

let the silver arrow fly by @solikerez

Leia plays cupid, and fires a few misshots before getting it right.

What We Do in the Snow by @reylotrashcompactor

The first time she dreamed of Starkiller, not much was different.

The Gamble by @nightsofreylo

Whenever you gamble, eventually you lose...

Matchmaker by @lariren-shadow

Bored with being a Force Ghost Anakin decides that his grandson needs some help in the relationship department.  Kylo Ren isn't too thrilled at the prospect but, then again, neither is Rey.

here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true by @the-reylo-void

Here is the place where I love you.

People Will Say by @reylotrashcompactor

In a ditch effort to coax the wary members of the Resistance into accepting the prodigal son Ben Solo back into their fold, General Leia Organa requests a hefty favor from Rey. "Behind every good man is a great woman" is how the saying goes, but the man formerly known as Kylo Ren isn't good, and Rey isn't sure that any manner of hand-holding is going to change people's minds about that.

crave my heart (it's bleeding in your hand) by @mnemehoshiko

She wakes with the taste of salt on her lips and screams in her head.

Dark Matter by @arcticelves

Rey is never really alone. Even on Ahch-To, beginning her training with Luke Skywalker, she is frequently interrupted by an uninvited visitor. But is he truly unwelcome?

kept in the dark (but you were there in front of me) by @mnemehoshiko

Ben Solo is nine when he dreams of sand and darkness.

Peace and Purpose by @the-reylo-void

Across the stars, Rey and Ben yearn for each other, neither able to move on, both facing the unending nights alone. But the Force longs for balance as surely as they long for each other.

Laid To Rest by @khaleesa

Ben wants to show Rey the galaxy, to see it with her. First, they have business on Naboo.

Endings and Beginnings by @shelikespretties

Rey’s hand cradles Ben’s head before it can hit the stone floor. He’s ridiculously heavy, all dead weight, and Rey’s entire body cramps in horror before she sees the faint rise and fall of his chest. He’s not dead. He hasn’t left her. Yet. She cradles his face with both hands and sobs in relief.

What Was Lost Is Now Found by @ceallaigheirinn​

With no memories of the past, his mind was nothing more than a void of vast emptiness. He couldn’t remember how he got there. It sounded insane, but he even wondered if he was actually there the moment before. When he closed his eyes, fleeting images of a metallic mask, a world collapsing on itself, the touch of a weathered hand across his cheek and a beautiful woman dressed in white flickered from the dark recesses of his mind. But none of it made sense. He had no idea what those images represented or who that woman was. Did she mean something to him? Was she an enemy, friend or lover?

a million miles (cross the ocean) by @mnemehoshiko

in which the Force tries to pay back some of the debt it owes the Skywalkers.

gift to me forever by LonelyLavenderBones, @luminoustico, TazWren, @thewayofthetrashcompactor

Palpatine has remained dead. Ben Solo followed in his mother’s footsteps and became the Senator of Chandrila, his mother training him in the Force instead of sending him to Luke. And, instead of being left on Jakku, Rey has been trained in the Force from childhood to help redeem the Palpatine name in the eyes of the galaxy's highest social circles.Now the princess of the ultimate Sith is due to make her debut, on the arm of her betrothed, Armitage Hux. But, the Force still has plans for Rey Palpatine and Ben Solo.

My own canonverse Reylo fics:

Rise

Ben Solo and Rey fake their deaths after Exegol and live their lives.

It was not Death, for I stood up

Emperor Palpatine lied on Exegol; Rey is not his granddaughter. Rey sets off on a journey, led by Obi-Wan Kenobi, to bring Ben Solo back from the World Between Worlds.

luminous beings are we

Rey and Ben survive Exegol.

the healing balance

The battle was over; the war was won. The Finalizer was a smoking ruin; General Hux’s attempted mutiny had backfired as the Resistance attacked and finally incapacitated the First Order leadership. Kylo Ren was missing, presumed dead at the hands of the last Jedi, who must have succumbed to her own injuries. Neither body was found. So said the initial official report of the aftermath.

Aggressive Negotiations

It was a shame, really, that Rey did not want her new assignment, did not want to be tempted by Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala’s grandson.

Calligraphy and Atonement

Ben Solo spends his time in exile trying not to think of Rey and keeps failing.

beam that lights the way home

The star lit their path to each other, and lit their way home together.

food for the soul

Rey struggles with new food and the knowledge that Kylo Ren is her soulmate.

you burn with me

Rey's soulmark burns when she meets Kylo Ren for the first time.

light brings forth hidden truths

Light brings forth hidden truths, and demonstrates the Force's balance.

Falling Embers

Rey takes Kylo Ren's hand after they have killed Snoke and his Praetorian Guards.

Force of Light

After celebrating the end of the war and Wookiee Life Day on the Resistance base, Rey heads out into the snow to meditate. Kylo Ren goes out after her...and learns the true reason for the season.

Wanting

Kylo Ren has wanted things his whole life.

My other fic rec lists:

Fic Recs Under 100 Kudos | Historical AU | Fantasy, Fae, Magic, Fairy Tale, and Mythology | Modern AU | Smuggler Ben Solo | Dark Side Rey | Smut |

[johnnydoe69]

The Switch

I woke up in a forest in nothing but a medical gown, surrounded by soldiers trapped in orange slime.

Sprawled out on the forest floor, I picked myself up and stumbled out of the clearing. The orange slime twitched and moved as I walked past, occasionally gathering in larger chunks or shrinking away to let me through. Everything felt strange and I was extremely lightheaded. My feet were bruised, bloody, and starting to swell. I wandered for what could have been hours or minutes when I came upon someone’s backyard. 

I climbed the small metal fence and landed uneasily onto the well-manicured lawn. At the base of the house was a garden hose and desperately dehydrated, I wandered over and began drinking from it. After I had satisfied my thirst, I took to cleaning off as much dirt, blood, and orange goo as possible. By the time I finished, I was soaking wet and freezing, my medical gown pressed against my emaciated body. 

That's when I noticed the comforting aroma of barbecued ribs coming from inside the house. It sat right on the kitchen counter, unguarded, and drizzled with sweet honey. Still, in a daze, I made my way up to the back porch and tested the door. I found it to be unlocked and I quietly slipped inside. 

The smell of the ribs was even more intoxicating inside the house than out and I pounced on them like a wild animal. I never even took the time to chew, each rib smoothly slid down the back of my throat and immediately started to dissolve. When I finished, I slumped to the floor, taking everything in. 

I suddenly realized that what I had just done should have been biologically impossible and yet, the bone, meat, and sauce, was absorbed into my body within minutes, providing me with a shockwave of energy.

Testing my limits and vaguely remembering using my arm as a sword against the soldiers, I willed my fingers to fuse into something sharp. In seconds, the fingers of my right hand became one and sharpened into a blade the color of rust. 

Terrified, I quickly asked my hand to go back to normal and it obliged, the sword separating into fingers and returning to my natural skin color. 

Below me, there was the squeak of feet on hardwood and the sound of footsteps heading upwards to a nearby door in the kitchen. I dove behind the counter, my heart rate pulsing. 

The door opened and a man shuffled out.

 He wore nothing but a tight-fitting lavender polo and a silky drawstring thong, looking very clean despite just cooking with barbeque sauce. He blearily looked to the counter and his eyes opened wide.

“What the fuck?” he stammered.

 He ran over to the pan and examined it. Cold sweat dripped down my back and I did my best not to breathe. 

“Nate? Baby, did you come home and finish all these without me?” the man asked, nervously, searching the room. 

His bare feet edged inches away from where I hid and before I could think I grabbed his foot on impulse. From the palm of my hand, tendrils made of ooze penetrated the man through his foot and inserted itself directly into his bloodstream.

He gasped, but before he could scream or move, a paralyzing agent was introduced to his body, pacifying him. Moving with the paralyzing agent were the tendrils themselves, growing and expanding as they rode the current of his circulatory system before reaching his brain. From there it quickly gained control of his entire body, inserting itself into the many grooves of his brain, until his every heartbeat, breath, and thought was firmly under my control. 

I pulled my hand away and the tendrils connecting us severed. The man wobbled on his feet, eyes rolling to the back of his head, before finally falling hard on his back, with a silly grin plastered on his face. 

I stood up. The man remained silent, his breathing slow and relaxed. Despite removing my hand from his form I could still feel deep inside him, the ooze communicating back to me every function that was being conducted in his body. 

Taking a deep breath, I kneeled back down, and using the influence of the ooze in his body, I looked over some of his surface memories.

The man was Max Larsen. 29. Ex- fashion model, now a computer programmer. Married to Nate. Living on the outskirts of Benton in upstate New York. The date was March 7th, Nate and Max's 3rd wedding anniversary.

I looked up and sure enough a bright and sparkly banner with the words “Happy Anniversary to Us” spanned the kitchen. 

I sighed. Nate would be home in an hour and there was no telling when the reinforcements for the military unit I devastated would arrive. 

Acting partially on instinct, partially on intuition, I placed my hand on Max’s foot again. Establishing a better connection with the ooze in his body, I willed my body to take on Max’s form. 

The first thing to change was my arms. They inflated with muscle, tissue pulled, and past their normal limits to match decades of exercise. The next thing to change was my skin tone, shifting from a fluorescent white that hadn't seen the sun in years, to a healthy tan that had just left the beach. Accompanied by the skin color change was a light dusting of blonde hair that started from my arms and began growing over my once hairless body. Then my chest enlarged with muscle, my pecs growing to the size of milk jugs, straining the fabric of the ripped medical gown. My neck and shoulders quickly followed, adding more weight to a body that was now more than a little too top-heavy.

I fell over, panting from the strain, my hand still firmly on Max's foot. I relied on my newfound upper body strength to keep me upright, but soon my lower half began filling out to pick up the slack. From my waist down muscle and a thin layer of fat were added to my body as I felt my dick grow several inches, my balls dropping against my skinny legs. From there my legs ballooned to accommodate the rest of my body and a perky bubble butt replaced my bony ass. Soon I was able to support myself by just kneeling again and picked myself up.

Then I felt my face begin to change, bones cracking and breaking to fit a new shape, making me wheeze with pain. Once that was finished, hair sprouted on my face and the top of my head, growing thicker and heavier as the seconds trickled past.

When all the pain in my body receded, I grabbed Max’s phone off the counter and checked for my reflection in his camera. I was his spitting image, albeit covered in barbeque sauce and a ratty medical gown that was now two sizes too small. 

Then I went to work on Max. I needed a decoy to throw my assailants off my trail in case there were more of them, so I began shifting his body to take on my old form. 

I knelt back down to the floor as Max’s good looks and health quickly receded from him like a desert storm over a savannah. Never losing the smile on his face, his body deflated, years of exercise and healthy eating replaced with the look of someone fed on nothing but an IV tube. His skin color shifted to a pallid white as his healthy golden locks of hair thinned and shrank before disappearing completely. His face hollowed and his boyish good looks and charm faded.

When I finished, I stared down at the man before me and was horrified. It looked like staring down at a corpse. 

I took a deep breath. I tore off my medical gown, slightly ripping it, and got to cleaning myself off in the kitchen sink, too terrified to waste time going upstairs and cleaning myself in Max's bathroom. 

Once I was clean enough, I moved Max behind the counter and stripped him of his polo and thong, taking time to undo the many strings of his underwear and weirded out by the sensation of gripping what had once been my balls, now on another body.

I put the clothes down in a pile and did my best to slide Max into the medical gown, careful not to rip it any further, to prevent him from being completely nude in the woods. Once that was finished I noticed the two thick gold rings on his now too skinny fingers. I easily slid them off and applied them to my hand, careful not to put the wrong ring on the wrong finger. 

Then I put on his polo shirt, soft against my hairy chest, and then stuffed my new dick and balls into the silk thong. Despite the weight of my heavy balls, the thong was a smooth fit and accentuated them perfectly. 

Firmly taking Max’s place in appearance I noticed the blinds on his kitchen door and shut them, casting the kitchen in darkness, before I got to work taking his memories. I spent the next 45 minutes soaking up as much information as I could, anything that would convince people, but especially Nate, that I was Max and always had been.

When I was satisfied, I wiped my old body's mind clean and replaced them with only my memories of waking up and wandering in the woods. I made sure to withhold any memories of finding and going inside Max's home, leaving him a nearly blank slate. 

Then, still unsure, but willing to test the extent of my power I willed the ex-Max to enter a dream-like state where he would not remember anything for the next hour and commanded him to find a new shelter, far from here.

His eyes snapped opened and a part of me was afraid I fucked up and would be conscious, but he calmly ignored me, pulling himself off the kitchen floor and stumbling to the door. He pushed his way outside and quickly disappeared into the woods, letting me breathe a sigh of relief.

Satisfied, I took Max’s phone and sitting in his living room scanned the news for any word of what happened in the forest. 

I did that for a few minutes and found nothing when a car parked in the driveway. It was only then that I remembered that Max had promised to make barbecued ribs for Nate and that I had devoured it only an hour before. I cursed myself and ran to the front door. When Nate let himself inside, I embraced him in a bearhug, kissing the back of his neck.

“And hello to you too,” Nate said with a laugh. 

Feeling him take a step towards the living room and beyond that the kitchen, I spun him around and met my soft lips against his.

His shoulders relaxed, but he still kept moving to the kitchen, so I went further, slipping my tongue inside his mouth, accidentally cutting it against his teeth. From Max, I knew that he had been looking forward to those ribs for a while. I had to distract him with something else to keep him from asking questions. 

As I kissed him, I placed my hand on his lower back the way he liked and succeeded in leading him out of the doorway and up to several of the stairs. 

Nate dropped his briefcase on the stairs, letting it tumble to the bottom when he pulled away for a moment.  

“Wait, don’t you have a meal waiting for me?” Nate asked, confused, looking behind him. I grabbed him by the chin and gave him a big smile.

“Come upstairs and I’ll make a meal out of your ass,” I said, playfully, remembering how much Nate loved getting his ass eaten.

“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” Nate said, kissing me sweetly on the cheek before we went up the stairs together, the sound of military helicopters gathering in the distance.

[hazzabeeforlou]

On the eve of HS2, I felt I needed to reflect and write a diary entry of sorts, an ode to where I was and where I am now, a musing on how HS1 ushered in a whole new world for me. This is long and more personal than anything I’ve previously shared, but in honor of vulnerability and maybe helping someone else who’s struggling... here it is. 

The most exposure 2015 me had to pop music was occasionally listening to ‘hits’ radio. My old art teacher in high school had blasted the classics of the 60s and 70s daily, so I knew those, albeit not the names, but the music, the style, the melodic tropes and such. 2015 me didn’t have much time for pop music. I was getting a fancy degree in classical music from one of the best conservatories in the world, and I’d made it there after four years with a highly abusive teacher in undergrad who gave me horrible anxiety; by the end, whenever she would walk into a room, I would get chills and start shaking. She delighted in lying to me, in calling me out in front of my peers. Worse, I was arguably her highest-achieving student. The day I got into Juilliard she took me for “tea” to celebrate, where she proceeded to spend the whole time telling me how she had made this happen, how her connections got me to NY, how I should be grateful. 

Entering the world of NYC and Juilliard I was an awestruck, anxious mess. Everything moved too fast, the school was overwhelming, my studio mates were famous already, some of them having won world-famous competitions and been on the cover of magazines. I was in the elite place, a place my working class roots had never prepared me for. My dad was a millwright. He went to work every day in steel-toed boots and overalls and often returned so filthy mom wouldn’t let him wash his clothes in the household washing machine. But I was nothing if not adaptable, and grateful, and charming, and I did my best. I worked hard. But my health kept deteriorating. 

All through undergrad I’d been feeling progressively worse. I had horrible acne that I presumed was caused by stress, as I’d never suffered with it in high school. I was already an introvert, but body insecurity led me to hardly ever socialize. I would spent hours getting ready for things, never willing to show my bare face. But that wasn’t the worst; I’d developed what I now understand was an eating disorder, because no matter how much I exercised or dieted, I kept gaining weight, or rather, I lost all my baby fat but remained the same scale number. I kept telling my mother I was fat. I didn’t tell her that I hated the wind, that I hated running, because it made my stomach protrude and the whole world could see the extra pounds I carried. I never made an appointment with an OBGYN because I didn’t date much less have sex, and my mother had told me, well you don’t ever need to be seen until you do. I came to NYC well versed in wearing baggy sweaters and scarfs that hid my form. And for two years, as my breathing got worse and worse, as my energy levels dropped, as my skin hurt and itched, I pushed forwards. I remember practicing one day and my eyes going black. I couldn’t see, I couldn’t breathe. 

It was getting into an international competition that saved me. I got the news in early May of 2016; I jumped around my room and I started coughing, and the next day a hernia appeared above my belly button. I was only slightly worried, but I went to see the Juilliard doctor. She asked if I’d gained weight, she said even a couple pounds could do it. I was, as always, ashamed, red faced, embarrassed as she prodded around on my torso. 

She said I’d need surgery. So I scheduled it in NYC for two days after my graduation. I played my recital, but with a binder around my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t remember my memorized music. I nearly passed out. I stumbled on the sidewalk afterwards. 

When I woke from the surgery I was in blinding pain, teeth chattering uncontrollably, in shock. I couldn't open my eyes, and every breath felt like knives slicing into my chest. I heard the nurses say, “We’ve given you three IVs of Percocet, do you want us to give you a forth?” I said no, thinking, ‘what if I die from an overdose?’ After two hours my mother came in search of me. It was supposed to be a day surgery. She demanded morphine. They sent me home on it, but two days later I’d thrown up twice and was back in the ER. A CT showed I had an ovarian cyst. The doctor said to me, “It’s 28 inches. It’s the size of a dinner plate.” I didn’t understand. They rushed me back for another surgery, and asked me to sign a paper saying I wouldn’t hold them responsible if I ended up paralyzed. I signed it. I joked with the nurses before they put me under. I was shaking with pain. I thought, if this is the end, I’ve had a good life. I’ll be with my doggy, my baby puppy. I’ve graduated from my dream school. I’ve gotten into an elite international competition. I’ll go out at the top of my game. It’s okay. 

But then I woke up. Over the next year, I would wish countless times that I hadn’t. I could barely walk. I couldn’t lift things like a fork, or my computer. I couldn’t shower or cough or even shit. I couldn’t practice or sit upright for more than fifteen minutes. Pain became a constant. I started to wake up with night sweats, my forehead creased in subconscious pain. I would jump at every loud noise, my heart lurching like a ruined engine, and I couldn’t remember names of flowers. I fell into a massive depression over the next few months, made worse by the 2016 election; because of my infirmity I had moved back home with my Trump-voting parents. The bravest thing I did that fall was ‘come out’ as a liberal on Facebook. My parents pretended not to notice when I stayed up late that cold November night, huddled with a blanket on the couch, crying my eyes out.

The Christmas 2016 season is a blur. I know I half lived in memories, half in grief, but all in self-pitying misery. I remember reading a passing article about Jay, not knowing who it was, and I remember adding a lost mother to the list of things I cried about. How could the world be so cruel, so unfair? My days were filled with PT and sleep, immobility and exhaustion, and questions, questions like if I can’t do what I love, what I’ve spent years training for, what’s the point? What does it mean to be an artist when you can’t do your art? What is left of me that matters? Is the future only more pain? It would have been better to have died. It would have been better to have died. 

Up until this point I had been unlucky in love. I could never find men attractive, though many friends pressured me to try, which of course had led to not good things. I’d been confronted a couple times about maybe being gay, but I’d shot this down immediately, my face bright red, my heart pounding. No, that’s not it, I’m just picky. Two girls in grad school had flirted with me; I’d accidentally gone on a date with one. I’d felt deeply, gut-wrenchingly uncomfortable about her. But how could I ever unpack all of that when just coming out as a liberal had given me anxiety for days...  

The new year came and I had nothing to look forward to. I could see no happy future. I wasn’t really in my right mind. I would escape as best I could, perhaps in masochistic ways; I’d watch SNL for humorous liberal comfort, and Colbert to feel some spark of angry solidarity. And that’s how I stumbled on Harry. He got me with his puns, because I love those. For the first time in months, I was giggling about something, this charming boy with curls and dimples who had replaced the scream-speech of James Cordon. For once I didn’t turn the tv off after Colbert. 

I began listening to Harry’s songs. As I had no reference for contemporary pop music, his old school rock album was familiar to me in a comforting way. I knew these sounds, these tropes, and yet they didn’t feel stale to me, they spoke to something I was feeling in the present. Because the album, in essence, was about pain, wasn’t it? Pain and escaping it. The lies we tell to survive, the dreams we cling to for hope, the drugs we use to forget. I’d never bought a pop album before, Harry was my first, and I listened to it for hours every day. 

HS1 seeped into my blood, but I’d been on a hopeless, aimless track for so long that the railway tie hadn’t yet switched. One warm, sunny spring day I wrote a note, filled a bag with rocks, and walked to the old bike trail, out past the freeway, into the marshes and pools of abandoned swampy wasteland. FTDT played in my head on a loop as I walked, as my brain hummed with the equation of worth. Was it worth it to stay alive?

Yes. I threw the rocks. I threw them as far as my fragile arms would allow, and they splashed into the murky water. And I turned around and called my mom to come get me. Harry had made something that was beautiful, that was touching, that was real. And if he could... then maybe I could too. Maybe I didn’t have to be just what I’d been before. Maybe I could try creating other things; maybe I could make art that, like Harry’s music, made other people feel less alone. 

There was something magical about that album. Not freedom, per se, but the promise of it, a glimpse of truth that kept me hanging on. 

I began writing poems again, songs. I got into an orchestra program, I healed month by month, I started carrying crystals, I found this crazy fandom and, little by little, grew to understand that my yearning upon looking at baby larry videos was really a cry of sameness that I had never before understood. After the Pulse shooting, during my horrible homebound year, I’d watched Lin-Manuel Miranda give his love is love is love speech, and I’d burst into tears. And I’d not known why. Now I began to realize. I remember the first tentative anon I sent to Phoenix @alienfuckeronmain asking if maybe I was... bi? I remember anxiously awaiting her answer, as if I needed an invitation to join the community, to be valid, to have this not just be a crazy swelling of hope in my chest. She replied while I was wandering through a corn maze in the frigidness of October. The next day I walked into rehearsal and I felt free, free of the way boys looked at me, free of being FOR them, and I’d never felt so... alive. Coincidentally I met my ex girlfriend that day too. 

Through Harry I found this fandom, and Louis. Louis, who has spoken to me on levels I cannot even express, whose class and political and emotional intelligence have challenged me to stand up for things I never thought I could. For me these last few years have felt like a journey WITH Harry. As he started waving them, I started wearing rainbows, just subtly. A knit scarf, a postcard, a bag. I started writing fic, the most healing thing I’ve ever done. I learned to create art away from the singular thing I’d been trained to dump my all into, and I learned that I have so much more to offer, even if chronic pain will follow me in some way or another for the rest of my life. 

I’m so thankful to Harry for taking me on this adventure with him; I don’t know if I’d have ever taken that first step by myself. It was like he held my hand through it all, like this fandom held my hand through it all. Like by being himself, Harry helped me be brave enough to evolve too. 

Through the catalyst of Harry’s art I’ve experienced more happiness than I’d have ever imagined. I cannot wait to go on this next journey, a second album, and reflect on just how far we’ve both come. 

[hellishvu]

Imagine BTS: with you who loves to play with their hands/hair

— hehe i’m currently writing this in mexico, on the plane, and on the bus back home...gays let me tell you... i’m very excited to start opening my story requests and the new look of august is looking good! also sorry about last story, i really couldn’t figure out how to add “read more” and it was acting dumb! also this imagine is probably the longest i’ve ever wrote and the real reason why it took so long to write !

Kim Namjoon: ˚✧₊⁎

Namjoon has been on tours and busy traveling to different shoots and interviews. You promised Namjoon you would come with him the next tour saving up all your vacation days to be with him on the bus you two are on right now.

You couldn’t guess how many hours of sleep he got. Half the time he gets the appropriate amount and the other time he gets less then 5 hours. You could tell by the the middle of the day wether he was grumpy or stressed out. Wanting you to hold his hand way more often being needy almost, you complied though everytime.

“Aren’t you tired Joon?” Namjoon leans on your shoulder typing at his phone listening to instrumentals trying to catch lyrical inspiration.

“Nope, need to write lyrics.” See when Namjoon comes up with an excuse of why he isn’t tired. That’s when you know he’s actually running on small amounts of sleep. You yanked your blanket from your backpack laying it on top of Namjoon seeing his suspicious glance.

“Are you sure angel?” Rubbing his hair, that was the man’s weakness and if he was tired he would fall asleep in minutes when you rubbed his hair. Looking out the bus window playing with his hair.

“Mmh stop rubbing. You know that’s my weakness!” Namjoon whines turning around when he places his head in the crook of your neck. Running your hand through his hair you couldn’t help but snicker seeing he looked like a big baby but he was your baby.

“I wonder what happens when I do that and why it gets my angel so mad.” Placing a kiss on his cheek while he wraps his hands around your neck basically putting more of his body on your side then his own seat.

“Not sleeping.” Namjoon says quietly hoping you didn’t hear but you did sending you to give him more cheek kisses. The rest of the members were sleeping and it happened that you wanted the hard working man to go to sleep finally when he has a chance.

“With the spell of love I command Namjoon to fall asleep.” You couldn’t finish your sentence seeing that Namjoon fell asleep already in your arms. Smelling his fresh scent hair that he washed before leaving to be bus.

Namjoon woke up seeing the roads of just freeways, yawning not realizing that he was well still on top of you. Grumbling you press him closer wanting him to go back to sleep.

“Angel go back to sleep. Still have.. 2 hours left.” He heard your breathing slow down because you were half asleep. Namjoon couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter because even if you weren’t awake fully you still called him angel. Namjoon went back to sleep even if in the back of his head he should be working on lyrics. That could wait he suppose.

“So you know that sculptor that I was basically couldn’t stop talking about?” After the bus ride the group separated, now being in a car with only Namjoon. Namjoon asks with a voice of interest while you search for a place to eat after the long bus ride.

“Yeah of course, what about them?” Driving because well Namjoon couldn’t. You love it when Namjoon talks about things he loves even if they weren’t understood by other people he loves it anyway.

“Well their workshop is here and I’ve been meaning to meet them.”

“But?” You asked knowing there was something holding him back from meeting this person that he gets inspiration from.

“But what if they don’t want to teach me? Or they think I’m stuck up?” You lowered the music when the lights were red. Namjoon looking out of the window before looking back at you.

“Angel who ever thinks you are ignorant is completely blind. I’m sure they will be so happy to teach you, you’ve brought many army to their creations of work.” With one hand you drove and the other quickly running your hand through his hair, Namjoon turning up the music once again.

You drove to a local restaurant to grab something quick to eat seeing the workshop was starting sooner then you’ll like. Namjoon almost chugging his entire ice tea and his meal. You rested your hand on top of his wanting to calm him down. You wouldn’t want him to throw up in front of the sculptor.

“Sorry, just nervous.”

“Joon Ive seen you nervous but this is something else.”

“Okay I’m excited, nervous, scared, and going to throw up all in one feeling.” Namjoon sighs pulling his hands up to his face. You ordered the check, going back to Namjoon pulling his hands down to see his face.

“You will be fine okay? And if anything happens you can call me.” Placing a tip you walked out with Namjoon holding his hand feeling his palms sweat. He went from sucking on the mint the restaurant provided to biting on it in mere seconds once he saw the building.

“You will be okay! I will wait outside and if anytime you think you can’t do it. Just wave at me and we’ll be out here.” Parking in the lot of the building, Namjoon seeing his confirmation of his ticket to the workshop. Taking deep breathes he opened the car door stepping out, cleaning his suit, and checking his breath. Before he walked in the building he waved at you, you responded to him by blowing him a kiss.

An hour or two went by, you going from playing music and singing in the car to hearing the local radio of your favorite celebrities interviews. Humming a tone you looked out to see many different people walk out with their sculptures. Some of them had just classic bowls while others had details pieces of work that could belong to a museum.

You tried to look for Namjoon till you saw him and the famous sculptor laughing together. That moment made you proud of Namjoon seeing that he took a chance and his reward was that he got along with his inspiration. Namjoon pointed at you in the car, you were taken back but waved seeing the sculptor pat him on the back before going back to the building.

“Wait before you drive! I got you something. Well I made it.” Namjoon gets in the car hearing you turn on the engine. Setting a cardboard box smelling the freshly dried clay, you hummed opening the box seeing a crab holding a heart.

“A crab—”

“Holding a heart! A heart for you!” Namjoon lifted it from the box turning it around for you to see all the beautiful details he put into. You kissed him on the cheek setting down the crab sculpture.

“It’s beautiful. I love it.” Leaning back from Namjoon, he pulls you by your neck pressing a kiss against your lips. He wanted to show you how grateful he was for you. To encourage him to take chances.

Kim Seokjin: ˚✧₊⁎

The morning was a special place for you, wether Seokjin came home late or early enough to catch you awake. You always know you can wake up to him. The face of pleasant sleep and dreams till he woke up fluttering his eyelashes yawning to see you admiring him.

“Didn’t know my cutie was a stalker.” Seokjin’s voice was starting to come back. The deep voice making you rest your head on his chest. His heartbeat against your ear and the warmth of his body that made your heart whole.

“You look cute sleeping.” Seokjin rested his hand on his stomach but it didn’t take much long for you to grab it holding the hand of his. Placing kisses on his knuckles hearing him snicker from how cheesy you are. You two could lay down all day and listen to eachother’s breathing.

“I’m sure I do.” You place the entirwing hands on top of your chest, you checking the time on your phone with your free hand. You had enough time with Seokjin before he had to get ready, him humming your favorite song looking into your eyes. The butterflies that Seokjin caused even months into the relationship.

“Give me kisses.” You cooed at him resting your chin on his chest seeing him have a slight grin. You now holding both of his hands with yours.

“1 Kiss.. 2 kiss... 3 kiss... 4 kiss.” Seokjin press his lips on your forehead, both cheeks, and finally ending it with your lips. Earning you a smile before giving him the same treatment.

The next morning was well a special one. Since it was your first month living together you wanted to celebrate in a special way and what better way was breakfast in bed!

“Y/N! Where are you?!” You heard Seokjin scream from the bedroom while you were getting his meal prepared. Almost sprinting back to the bedroom so you could keep your surprise a secret.

“What is it?” Peeking from the door trying to keep your secret from showing in your voice. Seokjin rolled over to your side of the bed wanting to get the cuddles he needs.

“I will come back to bed, just have to wash some dishes.” Sending him a sweet smile before he yawned. Running his hand through his bed hair, you could just go back to bed with him and play with his hair but you knew that you couldn’t break.

“I can help you with the dishes.” Seokjin hoarse voice making your knees weak but you brushed him off. Couldn’t go ruining your surprise, now you thought about it the food was probably getting cold while talking to him.

“No! No it’s fine baby. Just stay in bed and I’ll be back quickly.” Kissing his forehead he nods going back to laying down but not without giving you a look of confusion.

You checked the warmth of the food, getting the freshly toasted bread from the toaster. You tried your best to carry everything in one hand and you swore you had dropped some strawberries on the way to the bedroom. You’ll just have to clean them up later.

“To my wonderful boyfriend.” Cheering with your high pitch voice you opened the door seeing the bed empty with no Seokjin found.

“Seokjin?” You asked placing the breakfast on the drawer filled with freshly cleaned clothes. Peeking into the bathroom you saw Seokjin brushing his teeth noticing you were standing behind him.

“What is it cutie?” He raised his eyebrow before spitting out the toothpaste. You pointed out the bathroom door, Seokjin whipping off the water on his shirt seeing the breakfast perfectly made.

“Aww cutie... I’m so sorry. If I would’ve known I would have gone back to sleep and woke up to find my prince charming bringing me breakfast in bed!” Pressing his body closer to you forcing into a hug while you whine in his chest.

Another morning you remember waking up and not seeing Seokjin by your side. You yawned rubbing your eyes maybe thinking your vision was messing with you. The house was empty and silent making you dread of being alone.

Searching through the house, no bubbly Seokjin was found and that made you take out your phone. See the thing was that Seokjin when he leaves earlier then expected he puts a cute little note about it but you haven’t seen one.

The moment you send it the door opens with Seokjin. He opens his mouth not realizing you were in the living room. Seokjin held a black plastic bag which seems to be filled with take out breakfast food.

“So... first I thought you would overslept since you stood up really late and second I thought if you did wake up you would stay in the bedroom.” Seokjin places the bag on the living room table.

“So we both ruined eachother’s bed in breakfast plan?”

“Basically.” You two bursted into laughter, trying to do all this cheesy stuff but it never goes plan but you both know this was better. Opening the bag the box of yours had bold letters of your name and hearts around it.

“I love you.” Seokjin quietly says holding your hand. You kiss him on the cheek loving the moment of pure love. You love the man in front of you and you couldn’t see yourself with anyone else.

Min Yoongi: ˚✧₊⁎

Yoongi mumbles to himself, tapping his finger on his coffee lid waiting patiently. Maybe he wouldn’t be set up for the 6th time but he wasn’t counting... The warm cafe that once brought memories of first love and first encounters turned quickly into first disappointments and first heartaches. Yoongi was in a relationship but he had been neglected for months now.

Months of waiting by the person that so claims they love him, but he doesn’t remember love being so cold. He had doubts of his thoughts for a whole, thinking that he was selfish for wanting more time with them. That was till the massive amounts of make up texts he recieved saying the occasion “sorry” and “i’ll make it up to you.”

Yoongi felt a hand on his hair, almost feeling his body heat up from the touch. The lovable touch that he hasn’t felt in his chest for so long. Thinking it was the famous set up of his lover he turned around to see you, standing next to his booth at the cafe looking silly before realizing that this person was not your friend you thought.

“Oh. Oh! Shit I’m sorry. Should’ve made sure it was my friend before playing with your hair.” You apologized retreating your hand to stick by your sides.

First time someone apologized to Yoongi instead of Yoongi saying sorry for the mistakes of others.

“I would say it’s common, but it’s not everyday where someone plays with my hair.”

“Oh, yeah single club sucks a bit.” The saying made Yoongi freeze, single? Was there something he was missing? Like an amount of kisses he was suppose to get, an amount of hugs, and an amount of I love you’s?

“Oh actually I have someone. They should be here soon.” Yoongi quietly said looking into your eyes seeing the look of realization.

“Oh then I should probably go then.” Before leaving you said another “sorry” waving a goodbye to sit on the other side of the cafe. Going back to the main reason of why you were here, looking at your text messages of your friend telling you they couldn’t make it. It was fine you needed alone time anyway, to do work of course.

An hour went by, your lingering eyes raised up seeing the male still alone. Not even bothering to look around anymore for his someone. You tapped your fingers on the table seeing if an idea could go well such as asking if you could seat by him. You rubbed your eyes seeing them strain from working, the bright light came back into your vision but a shadow figure was in front of you.

“Excuse me?” The same voice from earlier you recognized. Blinking a couple times seeing the male from earlier acting rather shy sitting in front of you. His backpack on the ground of his chair meaning that he wanted to stay where he was. Yoongi even brought his drink along praying that you’ll let him stay.

“I was wondering since my significant other kinda stood me up and I got tired of the pity looks of the waiter. I just thought if I could sit with you. And my name is Yoongi.” Yoongi softly says smiling at you, placing his hands on the table leaning against them. The eagerness of getting to know you maybe was showing through body language but you couldn’t notice because you couldn’t stop staring at his hands.

“Of course. No problem, my friend cancelled plans so it would be nice to have company. My name is Y/N by the way.” You cleared your throat closing your work. Focusing on the person in front of you. Wondering who he was and why did he seem unbothered by being stood up?

“So how often are you stood up?” The question took him by surprise noticing he kinda tries to slouch on his chair to hide himself. Clearly you kinda jumped the gun you frantically had to think of something to say.

“Sorry again none of my business.” Seeing Yoongi look at the door of the restaurant, no sign of them. Disappointed but he sadly wasn’t surprised they wouldn’t show.

“This is the 6th time... in a row.” His voice quietly says the last part being embarrassed that he was still with them even after being bluntly ignored like left over litter on the ground. You did a quiet “oh” not realizing that this man Yoongi was actually having problems of his own. You two talked for hours till the restaurant was going to close and a waiter reminds you two of the closing time. Last call for any drinks was made while you saw Yoongi sip on his wine giggling with you. A genuine smile was on his face that he wished could stay on forever.

“Well you could always come over. We just met but if you need someone. Call me.” Writing your number on some bright neon pink sticky note that was found in your pencil pouch. You paid your check for the restaurant. Paying for Yoongi of course not wanting to put him into finical trouble.

One night you were getting ready for bed. Standing in your bathroom yawning before brushing your teeth. You heard a loud obnoxious ringtone that you probably should have changed by now since your best friend Namjoon loves to call spam you. You answered the phone hearing a slight voice that you heard before. It was Yoongi, you looked for an shirt while holding the phone against your ear.

“It’s 11pm Yoongi what’s up?” Turning on the bright light that hurt your eyes for a bit before adjusting to the brightness. Hearing Yoongi start a sentence before ending it and then trying once again.

“You know my lover? They poofed they left a note and just left me behind. I went home after work and found all of their stuff was gone.” You could tell he struggled to tell you, although just barely friends you wanted to be there for him. The sound of a helpless heartbroken man on the other line. You couldn’t leave him like this.

The night was introduced with Yoongi, his soft hoodie with pants that seemed he just chose and put on. You let him in, the warm hot coco already made for him to comfort. Coffee seemed too late but it would’ve been perfect for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The silence killed you, your mind still trying to wrap around how someone could just poof out of a relationship espically with Yoongi.

“Nope just want to watch movies.. but not love movies dear god. Do you have Chainsaw Massacre?” Yoongi sat down on your couch seeing the freshly popped popcorn you made due to wanting to catch up on your tv-show.

“Of course I do.” You laid next to him, stuck in the middle of “do I leave him alone in his own space” to “should I cuddle him or is it too early?”. Your stare spoke volumes to Yoongi catching you staring at him.

“Yes you can play with my hair.” Not the answer you expected but you took what you were given. Yoongi took off his hat running a hand through his hair before laying closer to you.

“Thank you.” Yoongi cooes when you play with his hair, wanting to stay in this position forever. Not caring what was going on with his life or his head. This moment was and is forever perfect.

Jung Hoseok: ˚✧₊⁎

You were hired for your expertise, having many happy customers and clients. To you it didn’t matter how famous they were you were on the case. But those different jobs completely switched when you were hired to protect the famous boy band Bts. That’s when you met Jung Hoseok, the man that changed the stoic persona and sometimes shoving people in airports and turned you into one of the softest person in this earth.

It was probably not the best idea to get together with a client but you couldn’t help when at the end of your shifts Hoseok would give you a present wether it was your favorite food or a teddy bear you accepted them. Days spent with you two shamelessly flirting till one day you asked him out in the middle of an airport waiting for security to clear them through... probably not the most romantic setting but he said yes in an instant.

Today was a big deal because they were coming back to Korea which means media will probably be all over them and knowing Hoseok he likes to put on a smile and show army’s that he loves them but it could be overwhelming fast.

“Are you going to be okay?” You asked sitting next to him in your all black outfit on the plane about to set down at the airport. You prepared your walkie-talkie to talk to the other security guards on your belt, silencing it so it could be quiet with you and Hoseok.

“I’ll be fine honey.” Hoseok likes to call you honey even if it sounds like you two were 90 you wouldn’t have anyone else tell you that.

“And if anything happens I know my ninja will save me.” Pinching your cheeks making you close your eyes with content.

“I didn’t chose the outfit I would have a bulletproof vest and those colorful halloween costumes.”

“Yeah because that screams security.” Hoseok chuckles resting his head on your shoulder wanting to get some alone time with you before chaos.

The time has come and time to show your “protect sunshine at all cost and his wonderful friends” mode was on. You were known on twitter for being one of the scarier but good looking guards. Many times you don’t have to use force to move the fans you can just give them a stare and they would kinda lean off.

Of course Hoseok never well seen it because he was too busy with army’s and waving at them, sending hearts to them. While you on the other hand was in a battlefield trying to keep them not too close where personal space was invaded.

The hard part was done, the flashing lights, the screaming, and the sometimes shoving was set and done for now till the next couple months. Driving in the dark vans that just scream “a famous person is probably in here” but the technology of tinted windows no one finds out it’s Jung Hoseok they are passing by. Holding hands with Hoseok because you were the giant softie. Caressing the back of his hand with your thumb.

“What does it say here? ScaryBtsSecurity is apparently trending everywhere?” Hoseok announces from the back seat you tempted to turn around and see who they are talking about.

“Honey, they are talking about you?” Hoseok was actually confused but seeing the photos, man did you look scary like you eat metal for breakfast scary. Hoseok looks at the photo and back to you seeing actually two different men.

“My giant softie?! Scary?” Hoseok chuckles switching seats to right behind you putting his hand over your shoulders through the spaces of the seat. Whining you tell him to not distract you from the road.

“If they knew.” Hoseok chuckles switching back to the middle seat seeing you trying to find his hand once again.

“Not soft!” You say wishing he was in the front seat instead of the back, but protection was more important than you touching his hair so you’ll just have to wait till you get home.

“So scary! You have no mercy!”

Arriving at Hoseok’s home you were excited because you had never seen his house before. It was a home that screamed Hoseok, the small plants in the front provided by Namjoon. The swinging chair that was painted by himself. The kitchen seems clutterful but just the right amount you can still find everything.

“My home!” Hoseok holds your hand while showing around the place. The photos of you two haven’t been hung up because you two got together during the tour so he couldn’t get them up.

The night came and most of the day was spent you helping him unpack and sorting out his clothes. He cooked one of his favorite meals for you to try while you stared at the wonderful man in front of you. When he ran his hands through his hair because it got in his face or when he tastes the food humming in satisfaction.

“So what is in your wardrobe?” Hoseok asks while you eat the perfectly home made meal. You choking on the food, never wanting Hoseok to ask that question.

“It’s all black.”

“You’re not serious-” The stare you gave him back was confirmation you are 100% serious.

“What do you sleep in? What if you want to go out? You just always look like a security guard?” Obviously there was things that you two needed to learn about each other but you were happy to explain.

“Well I don’t go out unless you guys do. I help with concerts and such so I’m basically everywhere you guys are.”

“I thought you just went to every concert to support.”

“I would go to every concert even if I didn’t have to and you know that.” Pouting because why would Hoseok ever think you didn’t enjoy him or his passion for music and the band. Hoseok disappeared into the stairscase of his home leaving you with your now cold meal.

“Here! No black and all security Y/N! I want to know the real soft honeybun you are.” Hoseok lifts up the Mang bt21 throwing it at you. He was already in his own matching with you if you decided to wear it.

“If I wear this, I get to play with your hair as much as I want.”

“And you get to hold my hand.” Hoseok shows off his hand no longer with rings but just his natural hands. You sent him a smile picking up the pajamas off the ground.

“You have a deal!”

Park Jimin: ˚✧₊⁎

It was time for you to hang out with Jimin for once in a while. The date or the outing was planned days ahead wanting to be perfect and no plans to be intrupted or ones that could go wrong. Jimin looked in the mirror fixing his hair before putting a pair of sunglasses on. He heard knocking seeing you peek on him getting ready.

“You look stunning.” Softly said as you caressed his arm seeing him blush with the compliment. Jimin poked out his tongue when you so “fixed” his hair. He complained that it looked good already.

“There was just a strand out of place.” You pouted seeing Jimin look back into the mirror closely trying to find anymore strands that were not in place.

You two walked to frozen yogurt, Jimin admiring the small moments when he isn’t shoved into cameras or the spotlight. Where he could just act natural with his delightful boyfriend. Frozen yogurt was your idea even if Jimin at first wasn’t fond of it but with a little convincing he was sold.

Walking in the bright colorful store smelling the scent of the different flavors and the toppings, hearing the pop music slightly in the background. You grabbed the size you wanted to fill with the sugary delight of the frozen snack. Jimin following right behind you sampling the flavors ranging from red velvet to the classic vanilla. Smiling at him you got your go to flavors before adding your favorite toppings. Sitting down across from Jimin. You started gobbling the frozen treat but stopped almost immediately when you heard a whine from him.

“I want to take a photo.” Jimin pulls out his phone and you couldn’t help but chuckle placing your plastic spoon back into the cup and shuffling it closer to Jimin’s cup.

“Are you done?” Grabbing the spoon licking the frozen yogurt you took back your treat. Snickering you saw Jimin stick out his tongue.

Jimin’s hair was one of your favorite things about him. The softness of it and the different colors of it always fits him. I don’t think there is a bad hair color on your lovely boyfriend. It was soft and divine always being the softest. Going to bed? You played with his hair even if he complained about you messing it up he always secretly loves it. So of course you take every opportunity to touch his hair or every excuse in the book, going through it all before Jimin stopped believing you sometimes.

You moved his hair from his eyes since he looked down eating his frozen yogurt, Jimin sending you a smile before secretly taking a scoop of your ice cream. Chuckling seeing your widen eyes when he placed it in his mouth doing an exaggerated moan.

“There was dust in your hair.” Ruffling his hair Jimin put his head down just accepting the teasing giggling at your excuse.

“No there wasn’t.” Jimin feels a bit of frozen yogurt on his lips, licking his lips from the melted cream residue. You kissed him across the table having your hand behind his head pressing your lips to his.

“Let’s go.” Jimin suggests separating from the kiss first. Scooping the last amount of frozen yogurt so he could throw away the bowl.

You pulled out the list of places to go while Jimin looked around the glowing city, smiling while he sees cute merchandise on the displays of stores even if he wanted to buy it he knew he had no use for it really.

“How about a park?” Jimin turns to you, his beautiful hair flowing due to the wind. He looked gorgeous and you found yourself dumb founded for a bit till Jimin snapped in front of your face.

“Sounds great.”

The day was still bright and the park had some people in it but not too much that either of you felt uncomfortable to the point of being paranoid if one of them knew it was Jimin. The natural breeze felt nice to the touch and the skies were clear.

“Do you want to take a photo together?” You asked seeing that your profile was lacking you and Jimin. You wanted to show him off to your friends because he was absolutely amazing and downright specular.

“Of course, always picture ready for you.” Jimin wraps his hand around your neck pulling you closer to him feeling his body heat.

You brushed your hand his hair, him looking up at your hand wondering what you were doing. Moving some strands of hair before clicking your tongue happy with the look.

“Just wanted to style it before the photo.” Jimin raises his eyebrow at your excuse of touching his hair. You raised your shoulders trying to push the excuse.

“You know you should be my hair stylist.”

“Really?”

“Yeah because you touch my hair more then they do.” Teasing you was Jimin’s speciality but you know it’s all in good fun because you always got him back with tickles or kisses which made him blush and laugh uncontrollably.

You were about to kiss him and attack him seeing Jimin was already ready for the attack reaching out his hands to stop the attack but you’ve heard a buzz near his hair causing you to stop in your tracks.

“What is it?” Jimin asks walking closer to you while you took the same amount of steps back. Crossing his arms he wondered what was going on with you.

“Jimin there’s a bee in your hair.” The bee flew around Jimin’s head before landing on the top of his fluffy hair. Pointing at it Jimin shook his hand around his hair but he didn’t see no bee.

“No there isn’t you just want to touch my hair, darling if you wanted to touch it you can just tell me—” Jimin stops mid sentence when he heard the familiar buzz in his ear standing completely still almost like a rock.

“There really is a bee isn’t there.” Jimin’s fear in his voice rises when you slowly nod. It took every bit of his gut to not start running around.

“Oh god!” He heard it in his ear once again starting to run now. It was his life or the bee’s and he has a will to live that’s for damn sure. You couldn’t help but laugh at your boyfriend running around while a small creature that probably means no harm is chasing after him. Hell he is Park Jimin, even a bee knows beauty.

Kim Taehyung: ˚✧₊⁎

Taehyung and you sitting at the science laboratory for a school project. Being the two nerds you were Taehyung decided to work on it during a weekend. The mixture substance that you two had to create for a final exam sort of thing. Present it to the class, pretend like you know what you are talking about, and get an A. The board of education about the substance half of it was bullshit you put on the board to fill up space and the other half was actual evidence enough that you were confident that you could get an A.

“Okay but we don’t want the details to fall off let’s use heavy duty glue.” Taehyung suggests grabbing the glue that definitely says “stupid people do not use.” all over it. Taehyung getting some on his hand but not giving another thought thinking he’ll just clean it later.

You helping him glue them also getting the sticky stuff on your hands but honestly you didn’t realize till the project was finished. You standing behind to see it all of its glory. The images of the formula and the iconic “By: L/N Y/N and Kim Taehyung.” on the front bold and clear for everyone to see.

You highfived Taehyung about to let go but you couldn’t. You turned to look at the hand seeing he was holding your hand, the visible sign of struggle when he also looks at you. Your eyes landed on the extreme glue and back to Taehyung.

“No...no no no no.” Taehyung frantically says running towards the glue dragging you along. You yelp out to remind him you’re stuck with him quite literally!

“Taehyung! I’m still stuck to you.” The palms of your hands were stuck to his so you decided the most comfortable way was to just hold his hand. Plus you two wouldn’t want to walk out with your palms stick together that would have looked weird.

“How do we get this off? Are they going to need to chop it off? It’s my writing hand!” Taehyung tried to grab his phone from the desk. Grabbing it in his non-dominant hand was another struggle. Typing at the google search of how to take it off, but the stupid signal was horrible at school. The system decides that it would be a bright idea to have poor reception to have the kids focus more on school.

Hoseok heard a door ring than heard slamming on his door, groaning as he got up from the couch the comfortable position ruined once he got up. Eating a quick chip before opening the door seeing you two. You are Hoseok’s best friend and also wingman you like to say on many days. Taehyung on the other hand had little to no clue who was Hoseok thinking that maybe he saw him from a english class?

“Oh you two are dating? Congratulations.” Hoseok stuffed his mouth with another chip whipping off the crumbs on his shirt. Only you and Taehyung would be working on a project on the weekend so the helpful list was short.

“We are not dating, we are stuck together.” Taehyung raised the hands. Hoseok well not taking you two seriously pulling at your hand to let go before you yelled out of pain.

“Oh— You two are serious.” Hoseok pulled Taehyung’s arm to come inside his house pulling you with him. Hoseok grabbing his phone searching up how to get rid of glue from skin while you and Taehyung sat down awkward distance away from eachother.

“Here you’ll need to go to nearby store. Since my car is broken down you’ll need to walk.” Hoseok passed you a list trusting you more than Taehyung. You nodded walking out the door holding hands with Taehyung.

“Let’s hope we don’t see anyone from school.” Taehyung whispers in your ear, you looked at your phone seeing the walk there was rather far so you plugged in your earphones disregarding Taehyung.

“You aren’t going to share?”

“Huh?” You unplugged your earphone seeing Taehyung sigh.

“I said “You aren’t going to share?” Taehyung pointed at your earphone feeling left out and just seeing two people holding hands but completely ignoring eachother would be seen as odd.

You surrendered passing your earphone to him, playing the music once again seeing Taehyung bob his head to the beat making you smile a little seeing someone enjoying your music taste. You held his hand tighter getting used to his soft hand rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand.

The actual store was filled of “Are you two dating?” it ended up with you and Taehyung trying to come up with a sensible answer that didn’t embarrass you two. It was also filled with Taehyung picking snacks on the way to the supplies, stopping at almost every colorful candy packaging and cookies that were all different types of flavors.

“Here it is!” You grabbed the supply shaking it a little. Taehyung gave you a thumbs up for the success of your eye. The rest of the items were found in a short amount of time.

“So why are you taking this class again?” You asked grabbing some snacks on the way since the walk is rather long. You two didn’t have money for a bus pass and the money you spent on the supplies were provided by Hoseok.

“I heard it was a good way to see your study skills are up to par and if I want to take much more advanced classes might as well work my way up. If I work hard enough I can help more and more people.” Taehyung snacks on the chips, you holding the bag while he basically feeds you. At first you two were awkward crimson blush rising on Taehyung’s cheeks when he fed the chips to you.

“That’s nice. Just make sure you don’t overwork yourself. You’re kind Taehyung, the world needs more of you.”

“Well thanks Y/N. You’re not too bad yourself.” Taehyung sways your held hands still sharing your earbuds, smiling when his favorite song comes on.

“You hear this? Holy shit I’ve been waiting to meet a fan so I could take them to a concert.” The time stops when you two stare at eachother’s eyes seeing them glimmer. Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you but he felt his face heat up looking back on the ground.

“I’m sure we can go sometime.”

“Is that a date?” He couldn’t believe his ears. You were good looking to Taehyung and you seemed to be smart and kind so maybe it could work out. Taehyung wanted to find out.

“I don’t know, is it?” You raised a eyebrow walking up the steps of Hoseok’s house throwing Hoseok the supplies to get the sticky love hands away. While Taehyung dreaded the moment your hand lets go of his, placing his thumb against his palm longing for your hand.

Jeon Jungkook: ˚✧₊⁎

Jungkook felt his heart race, speed walking pass all the crowds of people he thought were good. Jungkook pushing through people getting glares he couldn’t care less though because all he wanted was to go see his demon boyfriend on the other side of the realm. Plugging in his earphones to distract his running thoughts of the beytral.

Jungkook learned that elves were never the so kind and genius people that just wanted peace. They got their peace all right but by blood shed and cries of lives taken away from the demons. To learn that your kind is a complete lie made Jungkook want to run, run so far away from this house of elves but running away from your own loyal house was known as crime and who even knows that dating you a demon that they were going to let him off easy.

Jungkook basically slammed on your door wanting you to hug him, run your hand through his hair that you always do no matter how much he claims to not love it. He’s always loved it and he’s yearns for it when you two are seperate. He heard the door open seeing you almost jumping on you, he wasn’t suppose to look at that, he wasn’t suppose to hear what his so called leaders were talking about, and he wasn’t suppose to have such a responsible of knowledge on his shoulders.

You had no idea why Jungkook was basically hugging you like it would be the last one. You rubbed his back seeing him slowly break apart from the hug seeing his eyes flutter him trying to form a sentence.

“Here we should go inside.” You pulled him into your house, it wasn’t the best but it felt homey and that is why Jungkook spent more time at your house then his. His felt forced like the drawings when he was little that his mother forced him to make even if he didn’t want to or the forced pressure of all of his older brothers awards clear on display to remind Jungkook that he needs succeed or else he’ll be a failure to his family.

“Everyone just lied to me. Everyone pretended we were the good guys.” Jungkook whispers out when he entered your home making sure you closed the door behind him.

“Koo what are you talking about?” Your thoughts ran seeing Jungkook so worried so all over the place. You tried to reach out to him placing a hand on his shoulder but he basically shivered up like a cold rush ran through his body.

“I heard something I shouldn’t have. I learned the real reason why elf’s are where they are now. I learned the truth and it can possibly kill me. Elf’s were never the so beautiful and elegant creatures everything thinks. We killed your kind for fun. We— We never needed a war but we started it anyway.” His eyes piercing through yours, you could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t lying, yes Jungkook was known to sneak around and let curiously get the best of him but now? Curiosity could get him killed.

“Koo it’s fine.” You tried to reason with him, to keep his mind at bay for an hour or at least a minute but that only made him erupt more. Jungkook wasn’t mad at you at all. He was mad at himself of how could he just believe something so idiotically.

“No it isn’t! Every bad thing that happens, demons are blamed for! A elf getting caught? He’ll just say “A demon made me do it!” and everyone defends that elf blindly.” Before Jungkook could start crying, his voice become bitter you pulled him into a hug once again. Hearing him sniff into your chest knowing that history of the kinds, you two were different and you never want to let your kind get in between him and you.

“Thank you for everything.” Jungkook voice comes out muffled but you could tell how genuine he was. You held his hand when he separated from the hug. Smiling at him, you hoped that even if he was taken away from you. You would always run through his mind.

“If you want to run away, from everything. I will go with you in a heartbeat you know that right? You know how much I love you?” Placing a kiss on his forehead wanting to a see a smile from Jungkook even if it was just a small smile. You would take anything to see Jungkook get better.

“I know I just... should I do something? Leave an anonymous article about the truth? So the realm could understand? The wolves, the fairies, the demons, and the humans? Should I do something?” Jungkook said placing his hands on your chest looking up at you. His ears twitching as like when he was confused expect this wasn’t a math problem. This was something that could ruin kingdoms or worst destroy them.

“When you’re ready. I’ll be here with you, by your side. You know what to do Jungkook.” The heart racing at some point you could see Jungkook’s eyes sparkle. You pressed your lips against his seeing his elf ears go red and your demon horns warming up from the love you two have.

“Now let’s go cuddle and let me hold your hand.” Dragging him by his hand you let him lay on your chest his face humming when you ran your hand through his hair. The favorite position fit like you two were meant to be.

“No one will seperate us. I love you for you not because you’re an elf or your status. I love you Jeon Jungkook.” You meant every word wanting to comfort Jungkook even when he didn’t show he was anxious you could sense it, almost like your soul was connected with his.

A/N: finally USED THAT ONE YOONGI GIF!! that’s all... that’s the authors note.

[wellhellotragic]

Be Alright (3/?)

Summary: Sometimes all it takes is one phone call to completely turn our lives upside down.

He’d left. That was all she’d known. He’d packed up in the middle of the night after a stupid fight, leaving no trace behind of where he’d gone. But when David’s phone rang one night telling them that Killian was in a hospital in Boston, everything changed. For Emma, it was the last call she ever expected and it meant facing the ghosts of her past and releasing everything she’d kept bottled up and hidden away.

But then again sometimes it’s the tragedies in our lives that finally let us feel again.

A/N: Better late than never right?

Previous chapters: 1, 2

If Ao3 is more your jam...

They were in Paris, sitting in a cafe just down the street from the Eiffel Tower. Two glasses of wine on the table as they took turns sharing their food with one another. A feeling of pure and complete peace descending upon her.

Things like that didn’t really happen though. Not to people like Emma. She should have realized that it was a dream right away, but part of her wanted to believe it. She’d had that same dream before, in happier times. The first time was just after Killian had finished something on one of his boats. There was a technical term for the way he’d sculpted the wood, carved into it, but she’d never bothered to really learn any of it. No, she’d always been content to just sit in a chair in his warehouse watching him work. Watching as the sweat beads rolled down his face, falling from his chin. The way his muscles flexed under his dampened shirt.

Watching him build his boats had always turned her on, even when they all went as a group to see his latest projects. He was an artist, his creations marvels. He was always so determined and focused, she and David would often have to drag him away. But on the days that she visited alone, she slowed him down immensely. Not that he’d complained. But that was in the beginning. Before she felt confident enough to let him sleep over. Instead she’d sneak a visit to him while he worked, letting herself become worked up in the process. They’d make love there. Sometimes on the couch he had in his office, sometimes on the deck of a boat that was barely large enough to fit one person.

It had been exciting in a way. The newness of whatever they had. The knowledge that they could get caught by an unsuspecting client. On that day, he’d been covered in paint and she jumped him the second he was done. They hadn’t even made it to his office, barely grabbing an old sheet he used as a tarp to shield them from the cold concrete floor. He was insatiable, and she reveled in it.

She dreamed that night. A tiny flickering of something as she curdled into his side on that tarp. It was she and Killian, in France. They toured vineyards, danced in their small third story walkup. They kissed and held each other without care. She was happy, and it terrified her, even in unconscious fantasies; the worry often ripping her stomach to shreds as she lay in bed after. She wasn’t lucky. She wasn’t the girl that got everything.

Every night after the images returned, growing over the months they spent together, until one night when she dreamt they were married and panicked. She woke clawing at her chest, struggling to breathe. Killian had done his best to soothe her, but she was inconsolable. The walls closed in and she felt trapped by the pressure of something unattainable.

She tried to tell him that she couldn’t do it anymore. That she couldn’t keep seeing him. That it would all blow up in her face eventually and the deeper she let him in, the more painful it would be. She tried to end it right then and there but he wouldn’t have it.

They talked all night, yelled, screamed, fought. But he wouldn’t leave. It was the first time she’d allowed herself to cry in front of someone. He just held her tightly and promised her that he would never ask more of her than she was willing to give. He promised to never push her for more. That he would never leave her.

The dreams stopped after that. The terror that always accompanied them falling away as well. She hadn’t even thought about them in years. Not until she dreamt it again sitting in a chair in his hospital room. But this time, she was content. The rush of adrenaline, the quickened heart beats, the constricting chest. All gone.

But it was all a lie. He did ask for more, and then he left. He abandoned her, moved on, and she was left with the dream, the nightmare. Trapped in her own mind, still able to feel his breath on the back of her neck as they danced on the terrace.

And then it was over. Shattered by the shreil beeping of his IV machine.

“Go back to sleep. I’m gonna go get a nurse to check on the machine and make sure something isn’t wrong.”

Emma blinked, trying to fight off the lingering vestige of sleep. To fight the heaviness of her eyelids. The beeping was intense and unabating. Opening her eyes a bit more, she saw a light flashing on the pump. Annoying as the sound was, it had done nothing to rouse him, something that worried her. He should have been up hours ago. That’s what the doctor said.

Mary Margaret and the nurse returned. The latter pushed a yellow button on the machine and the beeping stopped. She checked the bag hanging above it, and the lines leading to the machine, humming a little tune as she did so. Her fingers grazed down the line continuing into Killian’s wrist before she stopped, moving the palm closest to Emma a bit.

“Ah, I think I see the problem. The machine can be really temperamental and sometimes if you twist the hand a certain way it can set it off.”

Emma hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding his hand in her sleep. She must have pulled on it and messed up the needle.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine dear. Just try to keep his wrist straight.”

The nurse gave her a smile and left the room, leaving the door wide open behind her. She hadn’t realized how late it was until she saw how well lit the hallway was compared to the room.

“Where are the guys?”

“Oh, they went and got some rooms at a hotel down the street.”

"Why are you still here then?"

She didn't mean for it to come out quite as harsh as it sounded to her ears.

"I didn't want to wake you just yet, so I figured I would hang around for a little bit. I guess I was hoping that he might be awake by now. I thought giving you the extra time to sleep might be enough, plus you look exhausted."

She felt exhausted. She'd barely slept since she'd arrived, and when she did sleep, it was only in small spurts, unable to get comfortable in that stupid tiny chair. The longest she'd managed was right before he got wheeled back for his emergency surgery.

"It is getting late though," Mary Margaret started back. "We should probably head to the hotel ourselves and get some rest. We can come back in the morning."

Emma's jaw dropped a little.

"Margs, I'm not leaving yet."

"Emma, when's the last time you really slept? And besides, wouldn't a bed be more comfortable?"

It would, but Emma thought her discomfort was a small cross to bear in comparison to everything Killian had been through.

"The chair really isn't that bad."

Her friend leveled her with a stare, the same one she often gave her students when the were being difficult.

"Emma, you're not good to anyone like this. Let's get some food and sleep. I bet Graham would appreciate spending some time with you. You've barely said two words to him since we got here this morning."

It was true. She'd been avoiding him as much as possible. She couldn't look at him, the guilt eating away at her. The guilt of having Graham there in Killian's hospital room. Of having Killian possibly waking up and the first person he saw being Graham. Of wondering if he’d be upset, or worse, if he wouldn’t even care having already moved on. Of knowing how much Graham cared for her and not being able to reciprocate in that moment. Knowing that if she went back to a hotel room she'd be forced to actually have a conversation with him. She didn't have the strength for any of it just yet.

"I can't leave him. I don't want him to wake up alone."

"Well then I'll stay and you go."

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her frustration back down.

"Please, Margs. Just go. I'm fine here, okay?"

Mary Margaret studied her for a moment, letting out a sigh, finally conceding. Before leaving, she wrote the name of the hotel on a pad of paper from the night stand. She promised to be by early in the morning with a change of clothes from her suitcase. They weren't exactly the same size, but having just won one battle, Emma knew better than to start another fight.

She waved her friend away and waited. She waited for what felt like forever. The sunlight outside faded completely before it was replaced by the harsh glow of street lights from the nearby parking lot. She waited as she listened to family members saying goodbye to the other patients. The changing of the late night show turning into an infomercial. She waited.

Another hospital staff member came in about an hour later to check his vital signs again, seemling unbothered by his still slumbering state. Emma smiled at him as he typed away in the computer he’d rolled in.

“I’m sure he knows you’re here. That he can hear you.”

His words had taken her off guard. She’d become so accustomed to the silence.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, there’s nothing to back it up, scientifically I mean, but I’ve been here for a while now and I’ve seen things. Patients that have loved ones talking to them tend to have better outcomes.”

“Oh, I’m not- I mean, we’re not.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

With a sad smile on his lips he left, not realizing that he’d left her heart imploding. She had been that once. A loved one. Then he’d left and found someone new. She was just a ghost to him now. The world’s shittiest ghost. The one dreaming about a man that had left her, crushed, while the world kindest man slept alone miles away. A man that loved her and deserved so much more than her traitorous heart could give.

“I, uh, I don’t know if you can really hear me or not. Hell, I don’t even know what to say. Not after all of this time.” Her voice caught and a lone tear fell down her cheek. “I guess I should tell you to fight. That’s what people do in these situations, right?”

That’s what they did in the movies at least. They listed off all of the things that they still had to live for. Loved ones and kids and life goals. But he didn’t have any of that anymore, not that she knew of. His brother was dead, his wife was dead, days had passed and no friends had come for him other than her family and boyfriend. For all she knew, he was alone in the world. Then again, she didn’t really know him, not anymore.

He was a stranger to her.

“Storybrooke hasn’t changed at all.”

Coward.

“Someone tried to bring in a Starbucks last year. The wanted to set up right across from Old Lady Lucas, but everyone rallied around Granny to keep them out of town. Went all the way up to the mayors off. And Grumpy got his one year sober chip about two months ago. None of us ever thought we see the day. What else? Oh, Ruby and Victor broke up. We had a girls trip to Vegas to cheer her up, and I guess it worked because she came back married to a woman. I walked in on them in the shower last week. Then they asked me to join them.”

It was a cheap shot but a small part of her hoped the idea of two women lathering each other up in a shower might be enough to peak his interest. That he might shoot up and give her some of that infamous innuendo he was so well known for.

Nothing though.

“Okay, well if that didn’t do it for you, I don’t know what will.”

She gave his hand a squeeze before standing up to stretch out her back. Mary Margaret was right, night after night in that tiny chair had really done a number on her spine. Soon she was going to have to admit defeat. If nothing else, just long enough to run to the hotel to clean up. The hospital staff had given her some washcloths and soap but there was no replacement for a hot shower.

Even as she excused herself, stepping into the bathroom to wash herself off one more time before calling it a night and settling in for another stretch of restless sleep, Emma felt guilty for wishing she was at home, in her own little apartment. Using her own shampoo and crawling into her own pajamas. She felt horrible for complaining to herself though. Not when Killian was about to have his entire life turned upside down. Assuming he ever actually woke up.

There was a very real possibility that it wouldn’t happen. She’d heard the doctor talking outside. Rounding as they called it. They’d said his head ct had come back clear, but she’d seen things. Heard horror stories from cops in surrounding counties about how one minute a guy seemed fine and the next he was gone. She knew that doctors weren’t perfect. They made mistakes. For God’s sake, they couldn’t even save his hand. They couldn’t save Milah either.

Milah. He didn’t even know. How was she supposed to tell the love of her life that the love of his was dead?

She turned on the water faucet and gave herself sixty seconds. One full minute to let herself fall apart. To let the tears fall and anger get the best of her. To let everything she’d been trying and failing to bottle up pour out.

When she was done, she turned the faucet off, letting her breathing calm. Looking in the mirror had been a mistake. Her face was puffy, eyes blotchy red. She was a mess. Plain and simple. Not that it mattered in the middle of the night when the only person around was fast asleep. In a coma, actually. Isn’t that what it was?

She had to fight off a new wave of tears thinking of it that way. She needed to shut her brain down before it got the best of her. If she kept up at the rate she was going, he’d be a ghost in her mind before she ever even left the bathroom.

Drying her face and trying her best to shake the thoughts from her mind, she opened the bathroom door and turned off the light. It was a struggle finding her way back to the chair, her eyes no longer used to the darkness in the room. She’d held her breath as she stubbed her toe on the foot of his hospital bed, not wanting to wake up other patients with her screams. It was fine, she didn’t really need that toe anymore anyway.

With the sting still running up her foot and leg, she grabbed the blanket she’d been using and curled back up into the chair. She’d only just found a position that didn’t make her want to die when she heard a voice in the dark.

“Who's Grumpy?”

[peaceisadirtyword]

Secrets IV (Modern!Ivar/Reader)

A/N: I wanted to post this yesterday, but I had to rewrite it because I didn’t like what I had done... I’m still not happy with this result, but I don’t know what to change anymore 😂 I tried to fix it at the end, but I don’t know if it worked. 

Thanks for all the messages and the support, you are the best💞 I hope you like this one!

Inspiration: This work was inspired by Griffenholm Confessionals a work by @laketaj24 @akamaiden @ivarsshieldmadien @ivarswickedqueen

Warnings: A bit of smut, Ivar is an asshole again, mentions of sex and violence, the Lothbroks are a warning themselves.

Words: 2966 

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3

gif isn’t mine 

Ivar grabbed your hips, thrusting into you faster and faster, grunting into your ear. You arched your back, moaning loudly and closing your eyes. You were so close... His lips hovered over your neck, and suddenly you felt him biting your neck and gasped. Your nails dig on his shoulders, pulling his body closer to yours. The muscles of his back moved under your fingers. It was delicious. 

You moaned his name clenching your legs around his waist. God, his voice sounded even better when he moaned into your ear.

And then you woke up. 

It was the middle of the night, and you were sweating, panting and tangled in your sheets. Oh fuck. 

You couldn't believe you dreamed with Ivar. 

You unlocked your phone. It was three in the morning, and you didn't feel like going back to sleep. 

Elise was sound asleep, and you couldn't just wake her up to talk to her... And of course you couldn't tell her you had a wet dream with Ivar. 

You got up from your bed, taking a hoodie and your warm, furry boots. It was cold outside, but as hot as you were in that moment, you could have been in shorts in the middle of the North Pole. 

You walked out of the room, putting on your hoodie and closing the door behind you. You really needed to cool down. 

__________________________

"I've been trying to go to bed with her for a month, Ubbe, a fucking month" Hvitserk groaned "And the closest I got was touching her breasts under her shirt... I feel like I'm fifteen again"

"Thank god, finally one smart girl" Ubbe laughed "She probably knows you're an asshole, and that's why she's making it more difficult"

"That's why I have to go with Margrethe at least twice a week... I have my needs and she's not fulfilling them"

"She's not a machine whose only purpose in life is 'fulfilling your needs', Hvitserk"

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. 

"Could you please shut up?" Ivar groaned from his bed "It's three in the morning, go to sleep"

"I can't sleep, Ivar, I'm horny"

"Ubbe, hold him down while I cut off his dick, let's see if he's horny after that"

"Ivar, no threats past midnight"

"I'm gonna text her" Hvitserk took out his phone, unlocking it. 

"I'm sure she's asleep" Ubbe raised a brow "Like normal people"

Ivar clenched his jaw, looking at the ceiling from his bed. He had spent the last three weeks looking at you. He even had problems to concentrate in Old Norse Mythology, his favorite class, that day you decided to wear your skirt a bit higher than usual. He had noticed the way you licked your lips before answering a question in class, and how you frowned and bit your lip in maths, whenever you didn't understand what the teacher was saying (which was, honestly, every single class). He had noticed your stares, too, and that was what bothered him the most. Surely, you looked at him with pity. Poor little Ivar, who cannot walk. 

He didn't like it. He hated the way you managed to get all his attention by only entering the room. The only time he had felt something like that was with Freydis... But you weren't her, you weren't his beautiful Freydis... He couldn't possibly like you. 

The fact that the last time he saw you you were in bed with his brother, with Hvitserk's hand under your skirt and your disheveled hair and swollen lips, panting and trying to fix your shirt, blushing when he entered the room... Didn't help.

Besides, he had to be focused. He had to help his father with those new alliances he was making in England as his older brother Björn was too busy traveling around southern Europe, Ubbe wasn't too interested in the family business, Hvitserk had his head in other things (usually, between Margrethe's legs) and Sigurd... Well, Sigurd in his opinion was stupid so he wouldn't be really useful. 

The future of his family depended on him, and he needed to have a cleared mind. 

"Don't tell her to come here" Ivar scoffed, turning around in his bed to face the window.

"Why do you hate Y/N so much?" Ubbe seemed amused "She never did anything to you, she was actually really nice"

"That's why, she's too nice, we shouldn't trust her" 

"She is the one who shouldn't trust us" Ubbe replied, sighing. 

__________________________________

"Another party?" You frowned, looking at Elise as she applied some make up "How many parties do they do?"

"They've only done two this year... Hasn't Hvitserk told you?"

"He texted me earlier but I didn't read his message" you shrugged "I think I'm staying here tonight"

"Why?" Elise stopped and looked at you, pouting "You said the same last time and you ended up having the best time ever" she smirked "Come on, Y/N!"

"I just don't feel like partying tonight, and I should study a bit"

"Are you seriously studying on a Friday night?"

You sighed, taking your textbooks out and sitting on your bed. 

"What about Hvitserk?" She insisted "Are you going to leave him alone?" 

"I'm sure he'll survive" you raised a brow.

The truth was, you had been avoiding him since you had that dream with Ivar. You felt really bad, hooking up with one brother and dreaming about fucking the other, and you hated that, whenever Hvitserk kissed you and you closed your eyes, you thought about Ivar. 

"Are you seriously not coming?" asked Elise, biting her lip. 

"No, go and have fun" you smiled "And if Hvitserk asks, just tell him I needed to catch up with maths"

"Okay... Can I borrow your blue top?"

______________________________

23:00. You hadn't been studying for more than an hour and you were already bored as fuck.

You unlocked your phone, sighing, maybe if you took a break...

Y/N, princess, are you coming to the party tonight?♥️

Come on, Y/N, come with me

I don't want to be alone tonight baby :(

I miss you

You bit your lip, feeling like the worst person in the world. How could you be obsessed with his brother when he was that cute with you?

And you had avoided him for days, not ever answering his texts... He had been really nice since you arrived, and you probably should give him some explanation. 

Surely, you'd feel better. 

Sighing, you closed the book, getting up and opening the wardrobe, taking out some hoodie and a pair of jeans. 

Okay, Y/N, you go, you talk to Hvitserk and you leave, you thought while taking off your pajamas and getting dressed. Don't drink.

The night was cold, and you shivered a little while you walked to the house. There was people drinking everywhere, and you honestly couldn't understand how could they be outside with that cold. 

Inside, you started looking for Hvitserk, which would probably be difficult because you could swear that the entire school was there. 

You saw Ubbe with Sigurd and some friends, but no trace of Hvitserk. 

"Y/N!" You heard your name, and turned around to face a very drunk Elise, dressed on your blue top and with a beer on her hand "You came! Let me guess, Hvitserk convinced you" she giggled, winking at you. 

"Something like that, yeah" you smiled "Have you seen him? I'm looking for him but I can't find him"

"I saw him going upstairs" she drunkenly leaned into you so you could hear her over the loud music "But be careful, Ivar is upstairs too"

You smiled and thanked her.

"See you later, have fun" she winked at you and let you go, giggling. 

No one dared to go upstairs, where it was said that the Lothbroks had some rooms for when they brought their flings. There was an empty corridor, with some doors at both sides. You couldn't hear anything, and you weren't going to start opening the doors randomly to try and find Hvitserk. 

Biting your lip, you took out your phone and unlocked it, opening Hvitserk's contact. 

Where are you? 

You waited some minutes, but he didn't reply. He was probably drunk, maybe smoking with Ivar in some room.  Maybe if you walked next to the doors you could hear them...

Finally, behind the last door of the corridor, you heard voices. Ivar's voice. 

He was speaking danish, and he sounded angry, as always. You pressed your ear against the door, trying to find out if he was talking to Hvitserk. 

"Well I don't have time to deal with that, kill him and end of it" Ivar changed to English. 

"It's not that simple, Ivar, if Aelle finds out that we have killed him..." another man, whose voice you didn't recognize, replied him. 

"What is he gonna do? He's just a boy, and he's trying to fuck with us, deal with him, teach Aelle I'm not my father"

"I think that a simple warning would make him learn his lesson"

"Fine, don't kill him, but I want him in the hospital tomorrow morning" 

You froze. What was he talking about? Who was that man? 

I hope this is a fucking prank, you thought, feeling a bit dizzy. 

During the last month, you had heard rumors about the Lothbroks; you'd heard that they were involved with the mafia, that they had deals with very dangerous people, that they trafficked with weapons and drugs... But you didn't really believed them. How could Ubbe and Hvitserk, as nice as they were, be involved with those things? 

The smartest thing would have been going downstairs, go back to the school and sleep, forget about that conversation and try to talk to Hvitserk. 

But no, you couldn't move. 

"Okay, I'll let you know when..."

Then a loud noise startled you. It was like something had fallen down. Immediately, the voices in the room stopped, and you looked down, gasping when you saw that your phone had slipped out of your hoodie's pocket, and was now on the floor. 

You picked it up quickly, but before you could turn around and run away, the door opened and you found yourself face to face with a really angry Ivar, glaring at you.

He grabbed your arm roughly, shoving you inside the room and slamming the door closed. 

Hvitserk wasn't in the room, and the man you had heard talking to Ivar was with his arms crossed and smirking down at you.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Ivar yelled at you shoving you against the wall, with a threatening glare. 

"You're the worst spy I've ever seen, love" the man laughed. He was blonde and had long hair, and was even a bit taller than Ivar. 

"I... Was looking for Hvitserk" you tried to escape Ivar's grip. 

He snatched your phone from your shaking hand, ignoring your protests. 

"She wasn't recording" Ivar relaxed a bit, tossing it across the room. 

"Why would I record? I didn't understand half of the things you said" you protested, glaring at him. 

"And why were you listening, hm?" His blue eyes were fixed on yours. 

"Ivar, I have to go, I'll call you later... Go easy on her" the blonde man chuckled, winking at you before disappearing through the door, closing it. 

"I was just looking for Hvitserk, I swear, I didn't mean to..."

"Well he's not here, were your parents too busy ignoring you to teach you that it's really rude to eavesdrop another people's conversation?"

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him.

"You are an asshole"

He smirked at your reaction, finally letting go of your arm. You rubbed your wrist, still glaring at him and looking around the room. 

It looked like a normal room, with a single bed, a wardrobe and a table. On the table there were some papers, photos and... Was that a gun? Your eyes widened, and you stepped back, trying to get to the door. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Ivar sat on the bed, leaving his crutch on the floor next to him. 

"Downstairs, I am going back to the school" 

"Do you really think I'm going to let you go this easy after finding you outside this room and listening to a private conversation?"

You tensed up, eyeing the gun. Ivar followed your eyes and laughed when he saw the gun. 

"Don't worry" he took it, making you flinch "That would be just in case you can't keep your mouth shut" he put in inside one drawer, closing it. 

You relaxed a bit, but still tried to get as far away from him as you could. 

"Ivar, I won't say anything, no one would believe me anyway" you sighed "Just let me go, please"

He sighed, licking his lips and smiling softly.

"Come here, Y/N"

Oh, he knows my name, you thought, sarcastically. 

You approached him slowly. He rolled his eyes impatient, and reached to grab your hoodie and pull you closer to him, making you gasp and put your hands on his shoulders to avoid falling down on top of him. 

You gulped. It was the closest you had been to him, and you couldn't help but blush furiously when you remembered the last dream you had with him. 

His hands went to the back of your knees, making you sit on his lap, straddling him. 

He looked so damn good, with his beautiful eyes lit up with mischief, a smile on his swollen lips and his hands on your waist, keeping you in place.

"My brother told me you wouldn't let him in your bed yet" he whispered, tilting his head to one side "Poor Hvitserk, he's suffering... Don't you feel bad for him?"

"Ivar..."

"Why?" He licked his lips "No one has ever resisted my brother's charms" he said in a mocking tone. 

"It's none of your business" you glared at him.

"What you heard earlier was none of your business either" he pressed his lips together "And you did it anyway..."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, just let me go" you tried to get up, but he kept you in place. 

"I need to make sure you won't say anything" he replied, and before you could react, Ivar pressed his forehead against yours "And then you can go back to tease my brother's cock" 

Before you could smack his head away and tell him to fuck off, he kissed you, hard. 

You moaned almost immediately, closing your eyes and kissing him back. You felt him smirk into the kiss and as much as you wanted to whip that smile off of his lips, his mouth pressed against yours felt amazing. 

It was even better than your dream. 

His hands grasped your ass, making you grind against him, as he broke the kiss and his lips descended down your neck, nibbling and sucking at your soft spot. You tried your best to avoid moaning, but it was too much. 

His hands roamed over your body, under your hoodie. He massaged your breasts and smirked when you gasped. 

"Let's see if you let me go a bit more far than my brother" he muttered into your ear, his fingertips traveling down your belly and unbuttoning your jeans. 

He put his hand inside your jeans, making you moan loudly. 

The smartest thing would have been to smack his hand away, get up and walk out of the room. 

But you weren't being really smart that night. 

His fingers put your underwear aside, caressing your sex and pressing down on your clit. You moaned again, closing your eyes and moving your hips against his hand. 

And then he introduced two of his glorious fingers into you.

You gasped, tangling your hands into his hair and biting your lip. Ivar groaned, biting your neck roughly and making you whimper in pain. 

"You're tight..." He growled "Hvitserk would love this"

You wanted to protest, but you couldn't even speak.

His thumb massaged your clit as he curled his fingers, reaching your g-spot and making you cry out. 

"Can you take another one?" He whispered against your lips "Or are you too tight?"

You tensed up when he inserted a third finger into you, stretching your walls. You gasped in pain, but pressed your body closer to him, still moving your hips. 

"Very good, love" he kissed you again, thrusting his fingers inside you slowly, and you moaned in reply. 

You were close. It was too soon, but you had wanted him for too long, and his husky and deep voice whispering into your ear, encouraging you to moan louder and louder for him. 

And just when you were about to cum, legs shaking and walls starting to clench even more, he stopped. 

You gasped, pouting and glaring at him. 

"Promise me you won't say anything" he told you grabbing your face and making you look at him "You will forget about what you heard earlier, won't you?"

"I won't tell anyone" you promised, whining "I will forget everything please just... Let me..." You moved your hips again, making him chuckle.

"What do you want, Y/N?"

"Make me cum" you begged "Please, Ivar..."

"You're so needy" he started thrusting his fingers again, rubbing your clit roughly.

You came moaning his name, arching your back and moving your hips desperately. 

Ivar helped you ride the orgasm, and then he took out his fingers, putting them in his mouth and sucking on them while looking straight into your eyes. 

You blinked, still dizzy, and licked your lips just before he kissed you again. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 

"Good girl, Y/N" he whispered, smiling "Now leave and forget about everything... Hvitserk's in other room, but I think he's not alone so.. Be careful".

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @cbouvier23 @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @memememememe1-blog @dreamtheraphy @rravenss @vikingalexthedane @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @thehanneloner @fuckthatfeeling 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! I’ll try to post the next part on Friday, but I can’t promise anything because I’m traveling to Russia and I don’t know if I will have internet connection. If I can’t, I'll post it next Monday. 

Before leaving I’ll post an Ivar x Reader requested by @tephi101 (and I’ll try and post all of your ideas and requests in the following weeks💕)

[julesvalebright]

The Flip Side of Wrath

Woke up with my mouth dry.

Hands empty, head full.

Ears ringing, and blood cool;

Made it through to the-

Not ready for the-

Fuck me- it's morning.

Roll back to peach skies,

pushing past the soot-black clouds.

Screaming sunlight through the curtains.

And I'm alone

with it, with me, with this---

I.

"Fuck!"

The nib on his pen bent against his mess, and he let his anger slip through his lips. At least here there was no one to see. None, at least, but the myriad green things in his care, and they were silent, in their way.

Later he'd stop and think, notice the way a bud seemed tighter, or an early bloom looked just a little drained. But for now, he'd wallow out of whispering reach, at the mercy of himself.

Ripping out the page from his book held a certain kind of satisfaction, and he hastily crushed his words between his hands, like dead leaves under his feet. Inky fingers whipped the crumpled ball of paper against the wall, and he didn't need to look to know he'd missed the bin beneath the window.

II.

The air buzzed around him with the promise of summer not far ahead, and he willed the midday sun to stay with him (just a few minutes more). Stretched out, lying in the grass, soft yellow making love to the green. Rustberg in the throes of springtime, sighing.

And he can still feel hands and arms, limbs all around him, but he hasn't felt touched in so, so long.

He knows there are places where sunlight doesn't reach. He's felt them on the edge of the shattered world where he spends his time. Fel scars and aberrant life finding a way, in dissonant harmony. He's been learning the words to songs he's known his whole life, but it's slow-going and he's so very aware.

III.

He came to in a tangle of empty bed and too many pillows. Legs curled instinctively into his chest, he's a too-tight bud in self-preservation.  

He's lost track of the time since the events of the night before, played out in his head even after he succumbed to sleep. The hours simply climbed through his window while he lay in his troubles, leaving stripes of light and shadow on his skin.

The mirror across the room caught the brunt of it, glinting in what could be early evening or early dawn. But he couldn't see. Not what 'Miss Riv' had seen, or even Dicenne, which curdled his blood and made the room tilt. Whatever Mathias thought he saw, and what scant pieces he had to show a stranger by the hearth-

He rolled over, faced the wall and the tiny seedling potted on his bedside table. A little bit of breath, of pulsing quiet, and he poured a little life into its fragile roots. The flip side of wrath is tenderness, filtered through a time and place.

IV.

The docks soon ended and so did his tear across the beach. Leaning into his burning chest, he slumped forward with his hands on his knees. Cold sweat still carrying last night's booze, there was an ache in his lungs that didn't waver. So real, and he along with it, right down to the pulse he could feel in his fingers.  

He'd had his fill of dreams and their meanings. There were some things that simply were, with no symbols or silent pleas to be had.

And even if you could glean some sort of message in the madness- if hands were waiting in the wings to pull him to the surface just before he slipped away- he was here, and dreams couldn't survive beyond those few precious moments between sleep and sunrise. They were shadowy creatures meant for someplace else.

No hands but his own, streaked in ink with dirt under his nails.

V.

The day was done, but he was just getting started, holed up and hollowed out and hard-pressed to stop himself. Candlelight suited him, as did the soft scratch of pen on parchment, needle on record, fingers on stubble.

Another crumpled paper bounced off the window sill, rolling across the floor nearly under his bed.

(( @heartoftheravenwra, @rivannah, @dicenne, @mathias-meadowshine for mentions ))

[ashphoenix06]

Sweet Dreams Part 2

Schneep had been standing outside of room 209 for ten minutes now, unable to find the courage to face whoever came by this time. He has swiftly wiped away his tears before exiting the elevator but that didn’t stop his eyes from feeling the drain that crying causes pile onto his fatigue. Whoever was in there, he knew, would be able to see that something was wrong with him. His friends were observant that way. And he wasn’t too fond of their perception. They would insist that he take it easy or take some time off, which he absolutely refused to do. After all, a doctor’s work was never done.

He gripped the handle with a trembling hand but instead of opening the door, he rested his forehead against the cold door. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought back the tears that threatened to spill out again. This was stupid, he thought. Sure, he has carried the guilt of that night for two years now but he had never broken down over it. He was the strong one in the group, the rock for the others to lean on. Schneep never had the need to cry with the others coming to him for guidance. That didn’t mean that he was a completely heartless drone, far from it. He grieved in his own way, in silence and alone. That’s how he worked… that was Henrick Schneeplestein… so why was is walls coming down now?

Gulping a few jagged breaths to calm his nerves, he straightened up and pushed on the handle. He had to do it now or otherwise he wouldn’t have the nerve to go in. This feeling made Schneep confused and angry with himself. What was going on today?

Stepping into the room, he took in the scene in front of him. The bland white walls with generic pictures framed on them. The bathroom off to the side that was just completely pointless to have. The TV that hung on the wall but was never turned on. There was no life in this room; it was just an empty space… except for the patient who had occupied it for the last two years.

Schneep first looked at the heart monitor next to the single hospital bed. The green line on the screen showed a slow, normal pulse. Same as always, Schneep though. It’s monotonous beeps were usually the only sound to emanate in the normally quiet room. The IV bag right next to it was half full, it’s contents dripping into the tube in an consistent rhythm. Schneep made a mental note to alert a nurse that the bag would need changing soon.

Finally having nothing else to look at, Schneep turned his eyes to the bed and his heart dropped to his stomach; which was the normal reaction whenever he first looked at his sleeping friend after a while. There, on the hospital bed, laid his dear friend Jack. For the last two years, after that terrible Halloween night, Jack had been the sole occupant of room 209. Schneep was just thankful at times that he was able to save Jack in time before he died from blood loss and lack of oxygen. At other times, as much as it pained him to think it, Schneep wished that Jack had died that night. If he hadn’t of made it, then at least the rest of them wouldn’t of had to endure this torturous hell for the last two years. And Jack wouldn’t of had to been stuck in this room, his life dependent on the machines that were whirling next to him.

Above all, Schneep regretted not listening to Jack weeks before that glitchy demon attacked. Jack had come to him personally, complaining of random blackouts when he recorded his videos and a constant feeling that someone was watching him, just waiting for the right moment. Schneep had written it off as jitters due to the horror games he was playing and also to the coming holiday. He told Jack to take it easy and maybe lay off the horror games for a while. And then on Halloween, he got a panicked text from Jackie, stressing that something was wrong and he need to get over to Jack’s place right away. Schneep had hurried as fast as he could to Jack’s house and the scene he walked in on still haunted him to this day.

Shaking the memory from his thoughts, he looked at Jack one more time. His friends face looked so peaceful in his slumber, his eyes fluttering every now and then under his eyelids. That was the reason Schneep hadn’t pulled the plug on his friend months after that horrible night. A brain scan had proven that Jack hadn’t suffer any brain damage or wasn’t brain dead; he was still there. He just refused to wake up… or couldn’t. That thought alone made Schneep shiver. What in the fuck did Anti do to Jack? It had to of been something very traumatic to make his dear friend hide deep inside his own mind.

There was a ping from the other side of the room that pulled Schneep from his thoughts. He turned to the source of the noise and felt his heart drop even farther. Sitting cross legged in the chair next to Jack was Chase, tapping away at his phone. He hadn’t even noticed Schneep entering the room, but the good doctor expected as much after Chase decided to take on the role of Jack in order to keep the channel safe from Anti. He had kinda hoped that it was Jackie that had come this time. He hadn’t seen his bouncy, optimistic friend in the last three days and Schneep found himself fretting over the boy hero.

Not that he wasn’t happy to see Chase. Chase was another one of his friends that he had managed to save from death’s black claws but his odds to survive when Schneep had removed the bullet from his right temple were slim if not near impossible. That had crushed Schneep, who considered Chase like a brother. But somehow, against all the odds, Chase had managed to not only survive from his attempt at suicide but also to not suffer from any permanent brain damage. Schneep remembered the day Chase woke up fondly. Jackie had practically sprung from his chair and nearly suffocated the groggy Chase in a bear hug. Schneep just watched in the background with a small smile as the rest of the group surrounded him. Everything seemed like it was going to be okay after that… but then Anti appeared and made Jack slit his own throat….

Chase stopped tapping on his phone and looked around the room, his eyes coming to a complete stop when they spotted Schneep. Chase gave him a bittersweet smirk and Schneep felt a chill run down his spine. His dear friend had completely transformed into a different version of himself after he stepped in Jack’s shoes. The once heart sick, depressed man now showed more confidence in himself as well as a more positive outlook on the world. This change should of made Schneep swell with pride, which he normally did… but he couldn’t help but feel a bit fearful. He didn’t want to lose the real Chase, which he knew was a silly thing to worry over… but still…

“It’s good to see you again, Henrick,” Chase said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in the chair. Schneep quickly dashed the dark thoughts out of his head and smiled back.

“It’s good to see you too, my friend. How is the channel holding up? Any plans for the new year?”

Chase shrugged as he leaned back into the chair. He could never stay still, Schneep thought to himself. He and Jackie were similar in that way except Jackie was more bouncy.

“Oh, you know, same old thing just in a new year. I think I’m going to work more on the channel this time around instead of traveling around like on the tour… but I’m still going to go back to LA for a while….”

Schneep nodded as Chase went on about his ideas for the channel. It warmed his heart to see his friend so passionate about something. He hadn’t had this drive in a long while.

He noticed the room starting to go in and out around him. What the hell, he thought to himself. Chase had stopped talking and was giving him a quizzical look. The small round scar on his right temple was revealed from the light seeping through the blinds, the only reminder left from when he shot himself.

    Schneep tried to hide his sudden infliction by opening the red chart and practically cowering behind it. He cleared his throat as sweat began to form on his brow. Keep it together, he ordered himself. You’re stronger than this.

    Something began scratching in the back of his mind but he ignored it as he read the charts from Jack’s file.

    “So… so nothing has changed since the last time, I’m afraid… There is still brain activity going on but he just won’t w….”

    “Henrick? Are you okay? You look like shit…”

    Schneep dared a glance from over the file to see his friend leaning forward in the chair again, looking concerned. His whole body began to shake and he felt his balance waver a bit. His head felt hot as the scratching in his head intensified. What… the… hell….

    Chase was on his feet and leaning over the bed. “Henrick, when is the last time you’ve actually rested? You look like you’re about to keel over…”

    “I’m fine, my friend,” Schneep lied, “I don’t have time to rest… you know how it is… a doctors work is nev….”

    “Bullshit,” Chase said, starting to walk towards him. Schneep felt himself taking a step back, grabbing the bed in order to keep himself up. He was fine, dammit… he was…

    “...fine… I’m fine, Chase. Probably a twenty four hour thing but nothing I can’t handle.”

    “Come on, Henrick. You know you can’t lie to me… you need to take a break and rest,” Chase pointed to Jack’s still form. “You’re not going to help anyone, Jack specifically, if you managed to run yourself ragged. I came here to check on you as well as Jack. You know, Jackie’s been blowing up my phone worried about you.”

    “I saw Jackie three days ago, my friend, and he’s… he’s...” Schneep stammered. There was a quick flash of Jackie looking at him, tears streaming down his face. Schneep lost his grip on the bed and fell to one knee, his head pounding from the consistent scratching. He couldn’t get Jackie’s broken look our of him mind. He grabbed the sides of his head, his breathing coming out rapidly. He could barely hear someone calling his name, but it wasn’t anyone in the room. A memory? Jackie? Marvin?

    “Henrick!”

    Chase ran over to the good doctor and bent over to help him up. “Come on, man! Something’s definitely wrong! Let me get you into the chair and I’ll call for a nurse. Dammit, doc! You should start listening to us when we tell you….”

    Doc? Did Chase just call him… doc?

    He felt his friends hand grab his shoulder and proceed to try to lift him up. But Schneep was temporarily frozen. The minute Chase touched him, a flash of mismatched memories flooded his mind.

    Marvin staring at him with pure hatred… Jackie yelling out to him, face all covered in blood…. Two eyes looking up at him with fear and horror, pleading at him to… to…

    Wake up, Henrick!!!!

    A flash of glitching…..

    Those eyes fading to dull emptiness…..

    “GET OFF ME!”

    Schneep thrusted with all his might, pushing Chase away from him. Chase was caught off guard, losing his bearings and falling flat onto the floor. As he lifted himself from the floor, Schneep crawled over to the opposite wall, panting and sweating from the strain it was putting on him. He stared at Chase as he managed to get on his knees and turn to him, trembling from the flood of memories crashing down on him.

    Chase look at him with a mixture of shock and sadness.

    “Henrick… what the fuck is wro…”

    “Stay away from me,” Schneep spatted, raising a shaking finger, “You… you just stay away!”

    “Come on, Henrick… you’re not making any sense,” Chase tried to lean forward, his hand outstretched, “you’re obviously sick from overworking… let me help you…”

    “NO,” Schneep screeched, kicking at Chase in order to keep him as far away as possible. Chase retreated back in order to avoid being kicked, hurt spreading over his features.

    “Henrick…”

    “What… What did you make me do?”

    “What the fuck are you talking about?”

    Schneep used the wall to help himself get to his feet, though the task took a lot of energy to do. With half his body pressed against the cold surface, he looked Chase dead in the eyes.

    “I remember…. I remember… Jackie… Oh, god! What did you make me do to him!”

    Chase just stared in disbelief as Schneep pointed at him once again.

    “What did you make me do? WHAT DID YOU MAKE ME DO?”

Here is part 2 of the writing prompt requested by @glitchbicth. It may have taken me all day and I may not have gotten the chance to proofread it through, but I was excited about writing this part! Part 3 will be out tomorrow. Enjoy!

[she-wolf-of-highgarden]

Arya and Trees

Maiden of the Tree, indeed.  (Pt.1/?...there are more tree mentions than i anticipated when i started this)

“Her bedchamber was the only place that Arya liked in all of King's Landing, and the thing she liked best about it was the door, a massive slab of dark oak with black iron bands.” - Arya II, AGoT

“The old man dragged her well off the road into a tangle of trees, cursing and muttering all the while. "If I had a thimble o' sense, I would've left you in King's Landing. You hear me, boy?" He always snarled that word, putting a bite in it so she would be certain to hear. "Unlace your breeches and pull 'em down. Go on, there's no one here to see. Do it." Sullenly, Arya did as he said. "Over there, against the oak. Yes, like that." She wrapped her arms around the trunk and pressed her face to the rough wood. "You scream now. You scream loud." - Arya I, ACoK

“A boy called Tarber tossed a handful of acorns on top of Praed's body, so an oak might grow to mark his place.” - Arya II, ACoK

“The one-armed woman died at evenfall. Gendry and Cutjack dug her grave on a hillside beneath a weeping willow.” - Arya II, ACoK

“The land was gentle enough, rolling hills and terraced fields interspersed with meadows and woodlands and little valleys where willows crowded close to slow shallow streams.” - Arya III, ACoK

“Once, in the middle of a dense stand of oak, they came face-to-face with three men pulling a load of firewood in an ox cart, with no way for either to get around. There had been nothing for it but to wait while the foresters unhitched their ox, led him through the trees, spun the cart, hitched the ox up again, and started back the way they'd come. The ox was even slower than the wagons, so that day they hardly got anywhere at all.

Arya could not help looking over her shoulder, wondering when the gold cloaks would catch them. At night, she woke at every noise to grab for Needle's hilt. They never made camp without putting out sentries now, but Arya did not trust them, especially the orphan boys. They might have done well enough in the alleys of King's Landing, but out here they were lost. When she was being quiet as a shadow, she could sneak past all of them, flitting out by starlight to make her water in the woods where no one would see. Once, when Lommy Greenhands had the watch, she shimmied up an oak and moved from tree to tree until she was right above his head, and he never saw a thing.” - Arya III, ACoK

“Lommy Greenhands sat propped up between two thick roots at the foot of an oak. A spear had taken him through his left calf during the fight at the holdfast. By the end of the next day, he had to limp along one-legged with an arm around Gendry, and now he couldn't even do that. They'd hacked branches off trees to make a litter for him, but it was slow, hard work carrying him along, and he whimpered every time they jounced him.” - Arya V, ACoK

“They found Lommy where they'd left him, under the oak. "I yield," he called out at once when he saw them. He'd flung away his own spear and raised his hands, splotchy green with old dye. "I yield. Please." - Arya V, ACoK

“With Pinkeye awake, she dared not go back to her bed. Not knowing where else to hide, she made for the godswood. She liked the sharp smell of the pines and sentinels, the feel of grass and dirt between her toes, and the sound the wind made in the leaves.” - Arya IX, ACoK  

“She slashed at birch leaves till the splintery point of the broken broomstick was green and sticky. "Ser Gregor," she breathed. "Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling." She spun and leapt and balanced on the balls of her feet, darting this way and that, knocking pinecones flying. "The Tickler," she called out one time, "the Hound," the next. "Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei." The bole of an oak loomed before her, and she lunged to drive her point through it, grunting "Joffrey, Joffrey, Joffrey." Her arms and legs were dappled by sunlight and the shadows of leaves. A sheen of sweat covered her skin by the time she paused. The heel of her right foot was bloody where she'd skinned it, so she stood one-legged before the heart tree and raised her sword in salute. "Valar morghulis," she told the old gods of the north.” - Arya X, ACoK

“This postern was the least of Harrenhal's gates, a narrow door of stout oak studded with iron nails, set in an angle of the wall beneath a defensive tower.” - Arya X, ACoK

“Outside the walls of Harrenhal, a wolf howled long and loud. She lifted the bar, set it aside, and pulled open the heavy oak door.” - Arya X, ASoS

“It was no good arguing, Arya realized; Gendry had the right of it. The Mummers will need to sleep too, she told herself, hoping it was true. She was so weary it was a struggle even to get down from the saddle, but she remembered to hobble her horse before finding a place beneath a beech tree.” - Arya I, ASoS

“They still had not seen so much as a glimpse of the sun. It was growing colder, and pale white mists were threading between the pines and blowing across the bare burned fields.” - Arya I, ASoS  

“The soldier pines were dressed in somber greens, the broadleafs in russets and faded golds already beginning to brown.” - Arya I, ASoS

“Lightfoot, she moved to the big old willow that grew beside the bend in the road and went to one knee in the grass and mud, within the veil of trailing branches.” - Arya II, ASoS

“Two, then. Arya bit her lip. She could not see them from where she knelt, on account of the willow. But she could hear.” - Arya II, ASoS

"Now who are you?" demanded Lem, in the deep voice that Arya had heard through the branches of the willow.” - Arya II, ASoS

“Are you Old Pate's daughter, then? A sister? A wife? Tell me no lies, Squab. I buried Old Pate myself, right there under that willow where you were hiding, and you don't have his look." He drew a sad sound from his harp. "We've buried many a good man this past year, but we've no wish to bury you, I swear it on my harp. Archer, show her."The archer's hand moved quicker than Arya would have believed. His shaft went hissing past her head within an inch of her ear and buried itself in the trunk of the willow behind her.” - Arya II, ASoS

“There were woods to her left, she saw. I can lose them there. A dry ditch ran along one side of the field, but she leapt it without breaking stride, and plunged in among the stand of elm and yew and birch trees. A quick peek back showed Anguy and Harwin still hard on her heels. Greenbeard had fallen behind, though, and she could not see Lem at all. "Faster," she told her horse, "you can, you can."Between two elms she rode, and never paused to see which side the moss was growing on. She leapt a rotten log and swung wide around a monstrous deadfall, jagged with broken branches.” - Arya III, ASoS

"I look like an oak tree, with all these stupid acorns."

"Nice, though. A nice oak tree." He stepped closer, and sniffed at her. "You even smell nice for a change." - Arya IV, ASoS

“The dogs caught the scent. He was sleeping off a drunk under a willow tree, if you believe it." - Arya VI, ASoS

“Panting from exertion, Clegane jerked his shield up over his head just in time, and the cave rang with the loud crack of splintering oak.” - Arya VI, ASoS

“With a shout of revulsion, he hacked down savagely on the broken oak, completing its destruction.” - Arya VI, ASoS

“Nor do they love the flames. For the oak recalls the acorn, the acorn dreams the oak, the stump lives in them both.” - Arya VIII, ASoS

“They sat on damp rocks beneath an oak tree, listening to the slow patter of water dripping from the leaves as they ate a cold supper of hardbread, moldy cheese, and smoked sausage.” - Arya IX, ASoS

“One day, in an earthen hollow made by the roots of a fallen oak, they came face to face with another survivor of the Twins.” - Arya XII, ASoS

“In the higher hills, they came upon a tiny isolated village surrounded by grey-green sentinels and tall blue soldier pines, and Clegane decided to risk going in.” - Arya XII, ASoS

“Close by the water's edge, they found some willows rising from a jumble of weathered rocks. Together the rocks and trees formed a sort of natural fort where they could hide from both river and trail. "Here will do," the Hound said. "Water the horses and gather some deadwood for a fire." When he dismounted, he had to catch himself on a tree limb to keep from falling.” - Arya XIII, ASoS

“There, where Denyo pointed, a line of stony ridges rose sudden from the sea, their steep slopes covered with soldier pines and black spruce.” - Arya I, AFfC

“The sound was as huge as he was, a terrible groaning and grinding, so loud it drowned out even the captain's voice and the crash of the waves against those pine-clad ridges.” - Arya I, AFfC

“The shadow lifted, the pine-clad ridges fell away to either side, the winds dwindled, and they found themselves moving through a great lagoon.” - Arya I, AFfC

“The scent was unfamiliar, and she put it down to some queer incense, but as she got deeper into the temple, they seemed to smell of snow and pine needles and hot stew.” - Arya I, AFfC

“Winterfell, she might have said. I smell snow and smoke and pine needles.” - Arya I, AFfC

[dazzlingfantasiesblogs]

Sharp Side of The Blade P4

Dean x Reader

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Only. If under 18 Kindly un-follow me .Pain.

Notes: Enjoy!

Tags: @moodygrip @trippinjenni @brokenhearted-littlegirl @monkeymcpoopoo @greenarrowhead @liloldlou @kittkattramp

Pics and Gifs are not mine!

Getting back to the bunker, Dean parked baby in the garage, Sam right behind him with your car. Dean opened the back door to see you still asleep. He gently grabbed your arms, sliding you out carefully. Walking you to his bedroom, he started to strip you of your filthy clothes. “Dean, I think mom should do that…” Sam spoke calmly. Mary walking in seeing Y/N laying unconscious on the bed. “Oh my gosh..” She shoved Dean out of the way looking over your broken frame. “Get me the first aid kit, saline solution and the morphine packs.” Her voice demanding. “NOW!” Mary yelled at the boys. They sprinted out of the room as she unbuttoned the flannel that she guessed was Deans on how it loose it was. You opened your eyes weakly. You smelt a familiar scent. “Mary…?” it smelled of her strawberry shampoo.  “Y/N..” She choked on sob happy to finally have you back in the bunker. To have you home. At first she was not a fan of you. For obvious reasons. Intell you yelled at the boys to let her go hunting by herself and get use to this time frame. She seen you over and over again take care of the boys in all ways. Cooking, cleaning wounds or protecting them. “I am going to get you better hun.. promise..” “Buck…bucket..” Mary looked to you confused. “Here!” Dean reached over to grab his empty trash can. You bent over the bed and vomited. “What the hell…?” Mary watched as you emptied your stomach. It was clearly just bile. Dean walked to the restroom grabbing you a washcloth. He handed to his mother as she wiped your mouth. “Sorry…” you whispered tiredly. Every bone in your body felt shattered. Breathing let alone talking was proving to be a hard task. “The shapeshifter kept injecting her with some kind of sleeping medication.. It was a lot.. she still tried to fight them and us off…” Sam spoke looking as your eyes fluttered closed once again. He hated seeing you so weak, so broken.

Mary asked the boys to leave as she stripped you of your clothes. Running you a warm bath she waited it to fill up. “Dean..” she hollered out. “Help me move her to the bath tub.” Dean looked over your body. So many scars, cuts and bruises. Your rib cage had the most impact. He shivered with sadness at this. Gently laying your body in the warms water, he moved your hair from your face. “Thanks. I am going to help wash her up.” Mary spoke grabbing a clean washcloth.

Mary cleaned you up and ended up carrying you back to the bed herself. She noted at how light you where and started to find a vein in your arm. Sliding the needle in, she used medical tape to secure it. She started the saline drip and morphine to help with the pain. Wrapping your ribs with medical gauze, she secured it with tape. “Dean or Sam!” soon Sam walked in seeing you in the bed asleep. “Did you guys get her stuff? She needs something to wear to keep her warm. The saline solution is going to make her very cold.” Sam nodded going out to the hallway to grab your stuff. She set it on the desk going through it. Sam slid through the duffle bag. He pulled out a comfortable sweatshirt for you. It was once his. He gave it to you since you said you always dreamed of going to Stanford. He helped lift your body as carefully as he could. His mother sliding on the sweat shirt and sweat pants. Dean walked in moments later seeing you where Sams old Sanford sweatshirt. Dean would lie if he said he wasn’t jealous. You two always being so close. “Sam..” you whispered. Sam set you down gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Yes?” He said softly. “I missed you.. all of you…” you mumbled still half asleep. “I missed….. the bunker… missed… Castiel…. Missed mom….she is so…. Pretty…” you mumbled falling back asleep. Mary chuckled softly. “She is pretty drugged up.” Sam nodded smiling to his mom. Castiel walked next to Dean looking in. “How is Y/N?” He asked worried about your condition. “She just said she missed you.” Dean spoke quietly. Castiel walked past Dean to your side. He slid his hand over yours. “I missed you too.” Castiel spoke melancholy seeing you like this. As he touched your hand he seen a flash of you in Hell fighting off demons. “What the..” Sam looked at Cas as his eyes glowed blue. Cas pulled his hand away. “I… I seen…” Cas put his hand back on yours.  It happened again. He seen you taking out a werewolf pack. He seen you throwing daggers at vampire, then cutting his head off. He then seen you asleep at night, crying. Castiel took a deep breath looking at you. “What is it Cas?” Mary spoke first. “No.. nothing.” Cas walked back out past Dean.

Dean followed Castiel grabbing his arm. “You eyes did the angel thing.. what the hell happened?” Cas groaned. “Get a glass of whisky first.”

Sam and Dean sat with Castiel at the table. “When she said she was in hell, she was fighting off demons. Not just one or two.. lets try ten or more. She was hunting so much, she killed a lot of things. She was trying to numb herself. It was obvious it didn’t work when I seen her crying at night. Dean.. I usually support your decisions. After all Team Freewill 2.0, But… Y/N.. You messed up. You need to make this right or she is going to get her self killed.” Cas looked Dean in the eyes. His tone was slightly threatening. “I never.. want to see that again..” Dean sank into his chair. He had not clue what Cas really saw. “Can you show me..?” Dean asked looking at the trench coat wearing angel. Cas walked over to him, putting his pointer and middle finger against Deans temple. Images flashed before Deans eyes. Showing a glimpse of your past year. Everything from you fighting and hunting to laying alone at night. He hissed getting a glimpse of a one night stand that you had as well.

It was evening and Dean took a nap on the couch since he drove all night to get you here. He tossed and turned remembering the images Cas showed him. Sam looked at his brother, fighting with himself in his sleep. He sighed and walked to go check on you. He seen his mom asleep on the chair next to you. “Mom, go rest. I’ll keep an eye on her.” Mary nodded to her youngest son. She stood up kissing his forehead walking to her room.

Sam grabbed your hand and held it gently. It was slightly comical how small your hand was in his. “Cas said you went through a lot in the last year… why didn’t you call us? Or at the very least me? I thought you knew you could trust me with anything…?” Sam mumbled sadly. “I was worried..” you breathed out tiredly. Sam looked at you as your eyes opened. “I was… worried you… would get hurt…… I didn’t want… to keep dragging you guys down…..” “Never…” Sam stood up looking at you. Your eyes still mostly closed. He watched as you breathed in and out tiredly. Normal functions proving to be difficult. He looked to see your saline and morphine gone. Grabbing another pouch he hooked the new one to the IV pole. Hearing a light knock at the door he seen Dean looking in. “Where is mom?” “Sleeping. I told her I would look after Y/N so she could sleep a bit.” Dean nodded seeing your eyes open. He walked to your side of the bed, his face held shame and regret. He leaned down and hugged you gently not to disturb anything. “I am so… sorry y/n..” Dean whispered in your ear. Sam watched his brother try to make things right. “I still love you.. I always will. No matter what..” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “I am going to go for a run and get some food. Y/N do you want anything special?” “Ice…..Ice cream.. Mash…potatoes…” Sam grinned knowing why you asked for those things. Your jaw was way too sore to eat anything chewy. “Ok baby girl.. you got it.”

“Can… Can I sit in the living room?” your words oozed displeasure of your situation. “Sure Y/N..” Sam grabbed your body and set you in the wheel chair Dean had dug out of storage that was Bobbys when he lost function of his legs. “It…It still smells of Bobby…” you said weakly. A smile coated your bruised face. Sam grabbed the soft blanket off the bed and wrapped it around you. Wheeling you and your IV pole he brought you to the study that Dean and Cas turned into a living room. He carefully lifted you up and put you on the Lazy Boy recliner chair, setting it up. Wrapping the blanket around you once again he handed you the remote. “Wanna….. wanna finish watching…. Futurama…? If you haven’t already? I could use… some Bender in my life..” Sam smiled nodding. He grabbed the remote putting on Hulu. He sat on the side of the couch closest to you as you started to watch the show. He refused to watch the discontinued comedy without you.

Sam hurd the bunker door close. Dean came in seeing you resting on the Lazy boy. He set out the food and put your ice cream in the fridge. Getting you a spoon he handed you the mash potatoes. “I got them from your favorite place in Lebanon.” He smiled to you. Chucking lightly you weakly took a scoop of the fluffy mash potatoes and started to eat them. “Mmm..” you smiled. “Tastes good.” Dean nodded. “I got you a few things of them..” Dean sat next to Sam as all three of you ate watching Futurama.

The next day you woke up and felt a little better. Still very sore and in a lot of pain but you could move. Looking at the clock it was 5AM. Slowly getting up, you used the side of the wall to make it to the kitchen. Grabbing the ice-cream you struggled to open the lid. “Here..” You looked to see Castiel behind you. He opened it for you. Walking to the drawer he grabbed you a black plastic spoon from some fast food restaurant. “Thanks Cas..” you slowly ate the cold ice cream. Dean remembered how much you loved mint ice cream and boy did he get you the good stuff. “Cas… how are you?” you looked to the handsome angelic man. “I am…. Ok. Why didn’t you call me when you where in danger? Or pray to me?” you smirked a bit as you slurped the ice cream. “Cas.. the boys need you all the time. I wouldn’t want to waste your time on small things..” “Fighting demons in hell Y/N is not something small! Crowley helped you survive..” he spoke with a slight distaste in his mouth. “Yeah he did..” you laughed a bit. “The king of hell has a bit of a soft spot when it comes to sticking it to Dean.” Cas chuckled a bit nodding. Lightening up his mood a bit. “Look who is up. Let me make you some scrambled eggs hun..” Mary walked in, still in her pajamas. “I won’t say no to your famous cheesy eggs.” “Good.” Mary nodded as she grabbed the eggs from the fridge and started to cook.

After eating and Mary helping you change into some flannel and sweatpants, she helped you sit on the chair in the living room again. Handing you your laptop she found in your duffel you began to look at news articles. “Eager to leave?” Dean spoke still half asleep, wiping the sleep from his hazel eyes. “Dean.. I cant stay..” “Yes you can! We can give this another go.. Cas showed me what you went through… I.. I can’t… I won’t let you do it again..” Dean sat next to you. “I fucked up… I really fucked up..” He slid his fingers through his hair. “I will try everyday for the rest of my life to make this up to you..” “Dean..” you put your hand up. “No need.. I am too tired to think of the past. I plan on to keep truckin forward.” “Alone?” he asked upset. “I am not sure.. Sam and Cas don’t want me to go. Your mother doesn’t want me to either she said.. but being here.. with you.. knowing what we had… I know I didn’t do everything right either Dean..but.. you acted like I was trash.. that is how I felt..” you kept going threw news articles as you talked. Dean kneeled on the side of the chair, getting annoyed as your attention was not 100% on him. He grabbed your laptop causing you to glare at him. “Give it back.” “No.” “Give it back Dean…” “No!” He was testing the waters. “So help me Chuck, once I get my fucking katana I am cutting your fucking balls off!” you growled weakly. “There she is..” Dean smiled seeing the anger show. “You need to be resting though.” You sighed nodding to him. You knew you were in no predicament to kick the eldest Winchesters ass. “I hope if I die one day, I fucking haunt your ass..” you mumbled. “Me too sweetheart. Me too.” He laughed a bit.