#this is only vaguely inspired by you are in love by taylor swift

[hairmetal666]

Steve and Eddie don't like each other at first. Or, no, that's not quite right. They're still bonded from everything. They're friends, sort of, but they don't spend time together outside the group, have trouble talking one-on-one.

Steve doesn't think about it much. So, he and Eddie won't ever be real friends, okay. He's a little disappointed, but mostly he doesn't understand how he feels about the other guy. He's always anxious when Eddie's around, clumsy and stuttering, infected with Robin's tendency to nervous chatter. It doesn't make sense. It's just Eddie. But that's the thing. It's Eddie and Steve doesn't know how to act around him.

And Eddie? Well, he spends a lot of time avoiding Steve because the fucking cascade of butterflies he gets every time Harrington is around. He knows what it means, knows even he isn't immune to the Harrington charm, but he needs to be. He needs to keep his heart safe. So, he keeps his distance because Steve Harrington is not for him and never will be.

It changes during movie nights. First it's teasing Dustin and Mike, mocking whatever horrible movie the kids put on, and then it's inside jokes, and playful bickering, and evenings with just the two of them drinking beer and sharing joints.

Then it's August. It's too hot everywhere and Steve's parents are home, so they're in Steve's car, driving with no destination, a couple joints in Eddie's jacket pocket and a six-pack in the trunk. They're listening to a mixtape Eddie made Steve, a bunch of metal. Steve still doesn't get it but there are a couple of songs he enjoys. Rainbow in the Dark starts--this is one Steve likes, reminds him of Eddie and not just because it's Dio. Sun filters through foliage and into the car windows, backlighting Eddie's curls like he's some kind of deity, beautiful and ethereal, not part of this world.

Steve starts singing along to the music, can't help himself. His friend throws him a beaming smile, big enough that Steve thinks his heart stops. He smiles back. He and Eddie sing the rest of the song together, and Steve is...he's content. He's happy. He hasn't felt this way since--well fuck--since 1983. Their eyes meet again, gazes linger, warmth pools in Steve's chest and low in his stomach.

Oh. He thinks. That's what this is. It settles something inside him, the knowing.

Time passes, they get closer, share a bed most nights. Doesn't matter where as long as they're together. Sleep better this way, both of them.

They're at the trailer when it happens, sharing a joint, loosely tucked against each other in bed.

"I've never had a friend like you," Eddie says. His eyes stay fixed on the smoke he exhaled. "I know you and Robin are--like, I get it. But you're--for me--"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He flushes from his chest to forehead. "For me too."

It's enough, they both think. They're standing on the edge of more have been for months, but this? This is good. There's no need to push, to force. They're hurt, Steve thinks. They're healing. And they have time.

Corroded Coffin plays their first show back at the Hideout in December. Steve's never seen Eddie like this, performing. His shirt is cropped and artfully torn, his jeans more rip than pants. He's wearing eyeliner and his hair is wild. And the way he moves, sinuous and sleek, hips thrusting in a tantalizing rhythm as he shreds on the guitar. Steve wants so badly he feels it in his teeth.

He finds Eddie smoking behind the Hideout after the set. His eye are too bright, his smile manic, the adrenaline keying him up to the highest setting of Eddie. Steve knows he matches the energy, can't help it.

Eddie throws himself into Steve's arms, wrapping around him tight enough that no space lingers. The musician presses his face into Steve's neck, nuzzling, lips pressing against his pulse point. They touch always, share a bed and cuddle, but never like this; nothing like this. Steve pulls Eddie closer, and groans at the mutual swivel of their hips.

Eddie's breath comes in panting bursts, and Steve thinks, "here it is, finally, finally," but the door next to them bangs open and they jump apart at the noise.

Their friends and the rest of the Corroded Coffin guys come out, frolicking and shouting, complimenting Eddie on the show. If anyone noticed them embracing, notices the way they both adjust their clothing to hide their matching arousal, they don't say anything.

Steve wakes early the next morning, early enough that Eddie doesn't even stir beside him, hair wild and eyeliner smeared.

He gets out of bed, starts breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes and bacon, Eddie's favorite. He's so intent on cooking that he doesn't hear the other man come up behind him, doesn't realize he's even awake until a warm body presses to his back, long-fingered hands slipping under his t-shirt, tracing the scars on his stomach. He leans into it without a thought. They touch all the time, but they don't touch like this.

"Watcha making, sweetheart?" Eddie whispers.

"Your favorite," Steve answers.

Eddie makes a little sound, almost a whimper, and presses his face to Steve's neck. Steve lifts his chin, leaning into Eddie and offering more. Warm lips press against his jaw, down to the moles on his throat. A moan slips from his lips as he grinds his ass into Eddie's hardness. The other man groans, grabbing at Steve's hips.

Somewhere in the press of their bodies, Steve has the presence of mind to turn. He lifts his hands, cups Eddie's jaw, thumbs caressing the stubbled, scarred skin of his cheeks. "Okay?" He asks. His voice shakes.

Eddie's eyes are wide, shining, and he swallows hard. Steve knows he's overwhelmed, knows that the words won't come. Instead, Eddie nods, and finally finally they kiss.

Steve is flying. His blood soars in his veins, his heart lifts off. It was always supposed to be this. Always supposed to be them.

It was slow. It was easy. It was small jokes, and long looks, and little touches, and singing in cars and best friends and sharing beds.

His heart belonged to Eddie Munson for months. It will belong to him forever.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 11

Check out part 12 here

Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader

warnings ⚠️: not proofread / abuse / SA just something vague not detailed.

a/n : I truly apologize for this late update, I was really unmotivated to rewrite it and I was struggling to find inspiration again, I'm sorry if this part didn't live up to your expectations but I read hope you like it though, I tried to make it longer but I ran out of ideas 🥹.

Music Suggestion 🎧

Satoru stood tall, alone in the balcony, his gaze fixated on the sky, lost in the depth if his own thoughts. The weight of regret hung heavy upon his shoulders, a burden he could no longer bear.

His mind played your last fight that night on loop, making him hate himself even more. He remembered his harsh words, actions and disrespect towards you. Forcefully shutting his eyes to make those images and voices that's been haunting him go away.

Unwelcomed thoughts yet impossible to ignore. Blaming himself over and over again for what happened to you, torturing himself to madness.

"It's my fucking fault" he muttered,

In all that darkness, the image of your face in his mind was the only source of light. The delicate curve of your smile whenever you were around your students etched in his memory. He remembered the way you slept, features softened by the gentle embrace of your slumber, your passion for teaching and your daily excitement to show your students a new weapon and new technique.

You were a vision of peace amidst the chaos he was living. He realized then how life became emptier after your disappearance, the void your absence had left in every bit of his life. He realized how much he fell for you, he realized that hatred was deeply buried by the birth of his love for you.

With a heavy heart, he bowed his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. For three days, his eyes wide open, unable to sleep without you under the same roof as him, cuddling a piece of your clothing every single night to take into your scent, to pretend that you were there, next to him.

Clutching his fists, his knuckles turned white , whispering a plea for forgiveness, a forgiveness he might never receive.

"I'm sorry Y/n.."

. ..

"Satoru?"

"Y-yaga sensei?" said Gojo wiping his tears away,

"Can I join you?"

"Y-yeah sure"

"What's on your mind? Still blaming yourself?"

"Do I have anything else to do except blaming myself?"

"I'm sorry for your loss Satoru" said Principal Yaga apologetically,

"I didn't lose her, she's still out there, somewhere! I know it, I'm sure of it, I can feel it"

"Pain is eating you up Satoru, you know you should let go already–"

"Let go? Easier said than done. How can all of you let go so fast as if she never existed?" he said in annoyance

"The higher ups orders, to not distract the sorcerers' focus from their daily tasks"

"Bullshit, –"

"Satoru I understand your pain"

"No you don't, none of you does! I did this to her, I built the wall between both of us brick by brick till it collapsed on both of us, she got abducted by Toji and here I am suffering everyday.. I just wish I can turn back time and undo the damage I had done"

"Is this because of regret or something else?" asked Principal Yaga

Gojo looked down, not sure of what to say, mastering the courage he finally spoke,

"I– I love her, sensei! I love Y/n so much, I just hope it's not too late to realize this because I really want to fix everything–"

Yaga sensei looked at Gojo with a reassuring yet sad smile, deep down, everyone accepted that you died except Gojo., and he didn't want him to hang on fake hope.

"Satoru–"

"I know what you're about to say, but I won't let go, I won't give up even if the higher ups chain me down.... I thought she was a curse when we got married but I think I am her curse, I was her curse while she was my blessing–"

"I hope you're right Satoru, I hope she's still out there as you said, I hope you get a second chance to be a real family"

...

*In Mei Mei's room*

"Look at this" said Maki her eyebrows frowning in confusion,

"Who's that in the picture?" asked Nobara as confused as Maki,

Both of them examined the photograph, their eyes flickered between the picture and each other in silence. In the picture a woman smiled serenely as she cradled a baby in her embrace.

Maki shrugged equally perplexed,

"I have no idea, do you think it's a family member?"

Their senses were on high alert as they scanned every corner of her room for any sign of wrongdoing, something out of the ordinary. They found that picture tucked under her bed after they flipped the mattress while searching for anything suspicious.

"And this stack of money? Didn't know she's got all of this cash here" added Nobara.

"And this box as well"

Intrigued, they opened it. As they lifted the lid of the box, a firegun revealed itself, its metallic surface gleaming ominously in the dim light.

"A g-gun?" started Nobara as she looked at Maki in shock, "what would she use it for?"

"Definitely not hers, why would a sorcerer with a jujutsu technique depend on a gun" she pointed out.

"Good point, so if its not hers then to whom does it belong to?" asked Nobara

"There's only one way to figure it out, but now let's take the gun, the damn photograph and get out of here" said Maki as she put he mattress in its place again.

.....

"GOJO-SENSEI" called Nobara out as she caught a glimpse of Gojo in the balcony "Sensei you need to see this"

"Hm? Nobara? Maki?"

"Gojo" said Maki as she saw Gojo with principal Yaga in the balcony "We found something–"

but before she could finish her sentence,

"Any news?" interrupted Mei Mei as she stepped in the balcony out of nowhere..

Maki and Nobara exchanged quick nervous glances, their eyes darting between each other as they attempt to maintain composure. Hiding what they took from her room behind their backs. Their expressions strain with the effort to appear nonchalant, but a subtle tension lingers in the air. Lips pressed into strained smiles,

"Nah nothing new" said Maki while Nobara nodded in agreement.

"Hm you sure about that? I thought I heard you said you found something, is it about Y/n? " asked Mei raising her eyebrows,

"What if we did? Is it really your concern?" exclaimed Maki offensively, only to get elbowed softly by Nobara,

"We found nothing important Mei Mei sensei, of course if we did we'd tell you" exclaimed Nobara, chuckling awkwardly.

"Oh alright then girls," she said luckily not giving too much important to the girls, then paused and drifted her gaze towards Gojo, "how are you holding up Gojo? I hope you're in the process of moving on" she added

Gojo's eyes burned holes in her soul, but he tried to remain calm,

"I'm fine"

"That's what all of us would like to hear, glad you let go" she said and then excused herself to go to her room,

Then moment she left, Maki ran towards Gojo and Yaga, showing them what they found,

"We found these–"

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THESE FROM?" snapped Gojo unexpectedly, his eyes widened as he snatched the gun and photograph form Maki's hands,

"Damn Satoru what's got into you, relax!" exclaimed Yaga-sensei,

"W-we.." stuttered Nobara

"How did you get these? they were well hidden"

"Well hidden under Mei Mei's bed?" asked Maki in confusion

"What? what did you just say?" said Gojo and Yaga in union

"We found these under Mei Mei's bed, the gun hidden in a box , tucked beside that photograph and a pile of cash, do you possibly know to whom it belongs?"

"These belong to Toji Zenin" said Satoru

Maki and Nobara froze in place, trying to process what Gojo just said,

"T-toji?" they said in disbelief,

"This gun was used by Toji to murder Riko Amanai, and these in the picture are Megumi and his mother–" explained Yaga sensei

"It can only be one thing" expressed Gojo through gritted teeth, "She must be behind it" he added and started walking away, thinking about confronting her,

"GOJO STOP!" yelled Yaga sensei, holding Gojo in place, "What's happened to your common sense? vanished?"

"We can't assume anything now sensei!" said Nobara

"So all of this isn't enough to assume that she's got some dirty work with Toji Zenin going on behind our backs?" said Gojo aggressively

"Okay you're right, it is suspicious but we need a plan! a proper plan, do you think she'll admit it if you confront her? she'll find a lie and you'll never find the truth, not out of her! We need to know more about her first" explained Maki

"Know what?" asked Gojo impatiently

"I mean, Toji has nothing right? not even a house, do you think if he'd take Y/n to a hotel room after abducting her? Mei Mei must have provided a place for him" she added

"So if we can't ask her, how would we know?" asked Nobara,

"We ask her best friend" Suggest Maki shrugging,

....

"Is it ringing?" asked Yaga sensei,

"Yeah shh it is" said Gojo waiting for her to pick up the phone, "–Oh hello" he said through the phone

"Gojo? Hi what's up calling me late at night, is everything okay?"

"Utahime, yeah everything is fine, we just need you here, if it's possible can you make here in one hour at least?"

"Well I can, but is it an emergency?"

"Um it's– it's about Mei Mei, we're preparing a party for her and we need your help"

"A party? It's not even her birthday yet–"

"It's for her service, it's a habit here in Jujutsu High to hold a party for a teacher to honor them, and this time it's Mei Mei, she did a lot for us and for the school, besides it's the higher ups orders so..."

"Oh the higher ups? sure then I'll be there in an hour"

"Don't tell Mei Mei that you're coming though, it must remain a surprise, now we don't wanna spoil it"

"So should be meet outside the school?"

"Sure yeah, you can come to my house?!"

"Oh alright then, I'll be there"

With that they hung up the phone,

"She'll be here in one hour, I hope we can get her to talk"

"I hope she's not part of Mei Mei's plan though" Said Nobara.

"Don't you think we must tell the others? Maybe we need some backup?" suggested Maki

"Yeah, but some of them need to stay here to keep an eye on Mei Mei" said principal Yaga

"Alright, I'll go and tell them then,"

*Time skip, at Gojo's house*

They sat there, Gojo, Nanami, Maki and Megumi waiting for Utahime's arrival.

"You've got a nice and big house" pointed Maki

"Yeah but never a happy house" mumbled Gojo to himself,

"Do you think she'll tell us more about her?" asked Megumi and suddenly the bell rang,

"I guess we'll find out now!" said Nanami,

...

"So Utahime, I hope you corporate!" started Gojo not wasting any precious second,

"Corporate? you make it sound like if we're discussing business, and not preparing for a surprise party! it's a p-party right?"

she chuckled nervously,

"Not really! you need to tell us more about Mei Mei, some information that we don't know about"

"wait? what?" she asked nervously

"Is she meeting someone? did she tell you about something?"

"Gojo wait! why are you asking about this? I mean she lives there in the school dorms as well, so I guess you know more than I do"

"I don't think so, she's you're best friend she must have told you something about her plan?" said Maki

"Plan? what plan?"

"Ah come on Utahime dont play dumb"

"No for real! what plan, I thought you had a plan with her , Gojo to push Y/n away!"

"What? NO. I'm talking about her dirty plan with Toji"

"Toji? wait what's going on?" she said truly confused

"STOP LYING AND ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION, IF YOU'RE PART OF HER DIRTY GAME I'LL END BOTH OF YOU" exclaimed Gojo angrily, making Utahime step back, growing more and more impatient.

"Hey hey Gojo calm down, what's wrong with you? I understand you're frustrated but that's not the right way to find answers!" said Maki and the others nodded in agreement,

"Megumi please take him to the balcony while me and Maki handle this, he needs to calm down" suggest Nanami,

Megumi did as he said and took Gojo to get some fresh night air,

"Geez, you really developed anger issues, you were more laid back even in risky situations Gojo" started Megumi

"Not anymore, people change and I've changed"

"Y/n sensei is dear to all of us, so I am eager too to know where she is, and I truly understand how you feel"

"No Gumi, you don't, you don't understand because I'm not just sad, I'm feeling extremely guilty, because it's my damn fault"

"I'm feeling guilty too" said Megumi lowering his head,

"Hm? what for ? you're pretty close to Y/n and you're good friends not only a student and his teacher–"

"It's my father, he's the one who abducted her and only God knows what he's doing to her, I don't wanna even think about it. Is there any greater shame than this?" he said his voice cracking,

"Hey Megumi! look at me, your father's actions has nothing to do with you, he's the one who abducted her not you! you've always been nice and kind to Y/n. Sometimes family does things that we are ashamed of and completely in opposition of it but it doesn't mean we're like them just because we're related by blood, you are what you're truly in here" he said and pointed at Megumi's heart "And I know well what's in there Megumi! I raised you and I've seen you grow up to be a loyal, strong and kind hearted man! you're the complete opposite of your father so don't ever compare yourself to him again" said Gojo with a smile,

"If it's his fault, then why are you blaming yourself Gojo?"

"Because I'm the reason she left that night! I've said too many hurtful words, no one can handle to hear, no one deserves to hear but I was too agitated, too overwhelmed by my mixed feelings, trying to push her away from me over and over again–"

"Why? why'd you push her away from you? couldn't you have tried at least? maybe after what you've been through you were destined to finally find happiness with her! "

"My heart was a messy place to make it a comfortable place for her!"

"Was? so what changed now?"

"I want to try to make it comfortable for both of us, I want t-t to– nevermind! I have to find her, I have to make it up for her"

"I understand and we will find her, Y/n is strong I'm sure she's safe wherever she is" reassured Megumi, trying to lift Gojo's spirit again,

....

"So Utahime, we really need you to corporate so you better put that bestie thing with Mei Mei aside cuz this is a life or death matter!" begun Maki,

"D-death?"

"Toji escaped and we think that Mei Mei had a hand in this" added Nanami

"No way! Why would Mei Mei do that? I mean you know what Toji had done to the Jujutsu world!"

"We know, but we know that when people are full of hate are full of unexpected things!"

"Nanami what's wrong? what happened?"

"It's Y/n! Toji abducted her, and we found Toji's gun under Mei Mei's bed, even though it was well hidden.. do you still think she's got nothing to do with that?"

Her eyes wide open in shock and disbelief, her mouth hanging open, sad expressions drawn on her face,

"W-what? I didn't know I swear to God! I've – I've never thought it will go that way, I've never thought she could fall this far" she expressed her feelings, her heart crushing, she's never expected her long time best friend would do or be part of such thing, to betray the Jujutsu community.

"That's why we need your help! You know how important Y/n is to our world! we can't lose her" said Nanami "So please if you know anything, any place she owns, any small details tell us, we really need to know"

With a deep breath, she started thinking, trying to remember if Mei Mei told her anything,

"I remember she bought a house! but that was weeks ago!!"

"A house?"

"Yeah, she said she might settle in Tokyo if things went well between her and Gojo–"

"She's truly delusion" interrupted Maki rolling her eyes,

"Where is this house?" asked Nanami

"I'll take you there" said Utahime determined to help.

Despite being best friends with Mei Mei, her morals were more important! she's too loyal to the Jujutsu World and committed to the greater good, she knows about the prophecy and she can't afford to witness another loss on the Jujutsu community part.

"I'll go and tell Gojo and Megumi then– maybe Y/n is there"

.......

[ Kill her, and I'll bring your cash tomorrow when I see her lifeless body ]

Read Toji through the message that he received,

"See! I'm ordered to kill you now! How much trouble did you cause her for her to free me from the prison just to torture you and kill you" he said with a smirk

"F-fuck you and fuck her" you said through gritted teeth as you were thrown on the floor, your body hurting from the chains that were tied around your wrists and feet.

your lips and nose bleeding after hours of tortures,

"And you still got that attitude, after being beaten up? If I were you I wouldn't act so brave.."

"You'll never be me Toji! we're both considered inferior in the Jujutsu world but I learned how to be the real me and not what others want me to be, I didn't let others to order me around and kill people–"

"Are you trying to save yourself? and convince me to not kill you"

"no, I know I can't be saved, not just now but for a long time ago, but you know the funny thing is that we actually have something else in common beside being monkeys" you joked offensively trying to get on his nerves, you're going to die anyway so why'd you not offend him, you were tired if being stepped on so why not talk back.

"what?" he said in anticipation as he kneeled down,

"Both our families are disappointed in us, I disappointed my parents and you disappointed your son, Megumi, nice kid he's nothing like you–"

"M-megumi?"

And you struck a sensitive nerve in him,

You started laughing when you saw his face dropped and his expressions changed, your stomach hurts whenever you laughed he probably had broken some of yours ribs.

The you paused,

"Do it Toji. Do what you were assigned for, no one will come to my rescue anyway, do it, kill me" you said in a serious tone,

"Change in plan, let me have my fun with you before I take the light out of your eyes"

"You still have time for fun? the dawn will break soon–"

"Oh I know princess, don't you worry about it, I know I can't delay the sunlight but I know how to make the night even more darker... and you were right, Megumi's probably disappointed in me but lemme tell you something–" he paused and leaned forward, his face a few inches away from yours "That's who I truly am, a beast that preys on the weak, and you are weak Y/n no matter how hard you try to come off as strong"

he said and he reached to take off your shirt,

Your heart beats quickened, you thought he'd torture you in another way, and not attempt to do something filthy to you,

"No -no! I'd rather die" you said trying your best to break free from his grasp, but his huge body got you pinned down,

"What? you're not a fan of big guys? or your pathetic ass is loyal to a husband who's never paid attention to your existence?" he said looking you deep in the eyes, his huge hands circling around your neck, posing pressure on it,

You couldn't deny the pain and disappointment you felt. You really hoped Gojo would appear and save you, you wished he cared for you. You couldn't deny that you wanted Gojo; your husband to be your first time and not with someone who would brutally kill you after taking what he wants.

You'd die even before he kills you.

"no don't " you whispered, loosing your voice as his grip around your neck tightened, making it hard to breathe.

....

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER"

All what you can feel is the weight of Toji's body being removed from on top of you.

Toji's body forcefully thrown on the ground, your blurry eyes trying to focus on the figure standing right in front of you, slowly approaching you,

"Damn baby what did he do to you?" he said softly, softly brushing his finger over your bleeding lip.

"S-satoru, y-you came!" you whispered, your vision darkening and ears ringing,

"Of course I'm here with you, Y/n! Y/N !!!!!no no Y/N WAKE UP" he yelled as he held you in his arms.

....

Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your surroundings sharpening into details again, gulping with difficulty.

A serum attached to your vein,

"Sensei" said Yuji "Guys she's awake"

With that all of them circled around the bed you were laying on, their eyes look directly at you, greeting you with sincere smiles.

"How are you feeling?" asked Megumi.

You tried to leave the bed but they forced you to lay back. You looked around scanning the place, you were in the hospital, Shoko must have treated your wounds, everyone was there except your husband, Satoru.

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[wttcsms]

love cuts just like a knife (you make the knife feel so good) ; phillip graves

pairing phillip graves x f!reader word count 8.4k synopsis lover and victim are synonymous when it comes to those who fall into phillip graves’ trap. you learn this lesson a little bit too late. alternatively: an ambitious twenty-five year old graves will do anything for recognition and a promotion. even using you, a renowned general’s daughter, as a means to an end. collateral damage is insignificant when it comes to reaping the rewards of love and war, after all. content contains age gap (reader is 19, phillip is 25), manipulation, loss of virginity, possessive sex, possessive!phillip, lovers to enemies, naive + inexperienced!reader, mentions of pregnancy, power imbalance, breeding kink, minor depictions of violence + blood, literally heavily inspired by taylor swift’s “all too well (10 min version)” + “would’ve, could’ve, should’ve” </3

The four walls of this bathroom are closing in on you, you can’t breathe, and you’re certain that this most certainly is the end of the fucking world.

You try to focus on your breathing, but the sound of your heart banging against your chest invades your mind and makes you think your eardrums are going to burst from the inside out. You’re vaguely aware of the knocks against the bathroom door, but you can’t make out what the person on the other side is saying. The whole room is spinning, and you shut your eyes, forcing yourself to keep steady, to stay calm.

Your fingers curl around the countertop of the bathroom, back hunched over and your shaky arms being the only things helping you remain upright.

This can’t be happening.

You only tighten your grip, staring at your fingers before wanting to throw up when the light reflection from the promise ring on your finger catches your eyes.

You swear that in the glint from the thin band wrapped around your finger, you see flashes of what transpired these past few months. Secret smiles shared from across the room, being tangled up in hotel bedsheets, that damn smirk and boyish grin that sent you spiraling, that led to your’s — your whole entire family’s — demise.

It all comes back to you at too much of a rapid-fire pace for your already shattered mind to deal with properly. Instead, you’re practically ripping off the ring from your finger and chucking it somewhere in the bathroom. You hear the distinct sound of its landing, and from the corner of your eye, it still taunts you.

You shut your eyes again, childishly refusing to turn your head any further so you can conveniently ignore what the ring happened to land next to.

You don’t care much for violence.

Which is ironic; a renowned general’s only daughter being a pacifist? Sounds more like the setup for a joke.

But there’s nothing funny about the way his knuckles are smeared with dried blood, and the sincerity reflected in his blue eyes is too real to be just a joke. Dangling from in between his fingers is the unmistakable golden locket your mother gifted to you when you were only twelve — just months before her quick death. It’s your most prized possession.

And then it was stolen.

At least, you think it was stolen. You’re smart enough to know better than to throw wild accusations, especially whenever you’re on base and these young men surrounding you are training to be the best and brightest for the country. But still — you’re not careless enough to just misplace something so important. The only reason you took it off was because your father told you jewelry wouldn’t be allowed past a certain point. He had promised that the locker would be secure, and you didn’t have the heart to come running to him to tell him that the lockers evidently were not. After watching a fighter jet’s practice run (a supposed special treat for graduating top of your high school class — neverminding the fact that your father’s influence probably had something to do with it), the door to your locker had been swung open and left entirely empty.

You even had a sneaking suspicion as to who the culprit could have been. Jeremy Omelia has been a pain in your ass since summer break started, and you’ve been forced to spend most of your time either on the training base or following your dad around like some little puppy. He’s a new recruit, evident in the way he talks loudly and obnoxiously about how badly he wants to go to war. Your father, a highly respected general, mind you, isn’t shy about his distaste for fighting.

Avoid it at all costs.

Instead of hardening him, all the violence your father has beared witness to has left him rather soft. He shields you to the point where some of his fellow men jokingly discuss about you living in your own little bubble world. And they’re right.

You’ve never had the luxury of sneaking out or having movie dates and getting your father to allow you to go to a sleepover at a classmate’s was harder and less painful than pulling teeth. You get it; that he’s overbearing and overprotective for a good reason. But when the situation calls for you to stand your ground, you find yourself completely at the mercy of your opposition.

So when you first accused Jeremy of stealing your beloved necklace, it had been nothing short of a miserable, failed mission. Too overwhelmed and yet too unsure of yourself, you had practically stuttered through your accusation. It hadn’t helped that you chose to confront him in front of the rest of the new recruits, too. They would have mocked you and probably teased you with the type of cruelty only boys are capable of, but the status of your father shields you from it. Their laughter still rings in your ears, though.

And for the first time in your life, you felt the urge to punch someone in the face.

Again: you’re not a very violent person. Nor are you the type of person who jumps in and does stuff as irrational as that.

But staring up at the boy in front of you, locking eyes with him, and then allowing yours to wander from his bloody knuckles to the thin gold chain dangling in his large hands, you feel a sudden surge of satisfaction. Your father may tell you to avoid fighting at all costs, and you may have a distaste for violence, but a punch managed to solve all your problems.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, daring to take a step forward. Your fingers graze against the familiar, cold feeling of the gold of your necklace. “Thank you.” You repeat it again, staring up at him, trying to see if you know him at all.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he says, knowing that he’s lying right through his pearly white teeth. It’s a nasty habit of his — lying, that is. It’s probably inherited. That’s the excuse he tells himself anyway. As if unlearning bad behaviors from your family is impossible.

“I know he stole it! That jerk! I—” You pause, clearing your throat. Your cheeks feel warm, and you suddenly can’t look him in the eyes. “That jerk” is probably one of his bunkmates. Badmouthing the guy might do more harm than good, and since you haven’t necessarily regained possession of your necklace, you should shut up. Instead of finishing your onslaught of insults, you stretch out your palm, silently asking for your prized possession back.

“I know.” He says, after a minute of silence. “Omelia’s a dick. And an idiot. Y’know, I think he has a little crush on you.”

That makes you look at him again.

“That’s— I—” You need a second to process what you’re trying to tell him.

“That can’t be true,” is what you lamely settle for.

“Guys do weird shit to get a girl’s attention, y’know. ‘Specially for a pretty one.”

(Things like getting their knuckles bloody and risking punishment and public humiliation. But, that’s neither here nor there.)

You want to blame your inexperience for being the reason why you react the way you do. You’re thankful that he’s only human and can’t hear the way your heart starts to beat at his comment. He says it so casually, as if it’s not a compliment. And maybe he doesn’t mean it in that way. Maybe it wasn’t a compliment towards you at all. Maybe he’s just being a completely normal guy, and he’s just making simple conversation, and you’re the weird one for practically gawking at him.

“I guess.” You reply back, feeling small as ever. “May I have my necklace back, now? Please?” You tack on the please at the last minute, hoping he’ll appreciate it, and the two of you can be done with this whole entire awkward situation.

“Depends. You gonna get it stolen from you again?”

You know he’s just teasing you, but you can’t think of anything smart to say back, so you just cross your arms, hoping your distaste for his comment will be made known. Instead of apologizing, he laughs.

“Turn around.” He tells you, and you do. Only out of curiosity, though. Only because he has a nice laugh. Only because he obviously went through great lengths to retrieve your necklace back for you, and he never acknowledged your thank you’s, so maybe doing what he says will make the two of you even.

The tips of his fingers brush against the nape of your neck, and you never realized just how sensitive you are. It takes everything in you to not jerk away from the movement, but it’s almost as if he’s shocked you. It’s silly to get overwhelmed from just the slightest touch, but you swallow hard as he manuevers around your hair to clasp the necklace around your neck.

“There.” He says, seemingly satisfied. “Now the next time someone takes it from you, at least you’ll have a solid look at ‘em yanking the chain around your neck so your accusation can have some credibility.”

You ignore his little teasing remark in favor of satiating your curiosity. “Who are you?”

“No one you need to worry too much about.”

You turn your head, ready to face him again and ask him for his name more firmly, but he’s already walking back from wherever he’s came from, leaving nothing but the memory of his face and the ghost of his touch lingering on the back of your neck.

Ambition is a curse.

Ambition is a bitch.

At least, that’s how Phillip Graves sees it. Ambition and the greed to do something more, to always have the best — sure, it motivates him to be the top of his class and to rise through the ranks faster than most. But it also ends up resulting in him doing some pretty questionable shit.

Things like beating up fellow recruits.

He doesn’t like fighting.

Or rather, he doesn’t like to be the first one to swing.

You see, it’s easier to justify when you do bad shit because it’s done out of retaliation. No one can blame you for being the bad guy if you were the victim first — right?

But no.

General McHenry is the closest thing Graves has to a father figure. His home life is something he chooses not to acknowledge, and when you’re too consumed with climbing the ladder, a lot of things get easier to move to the backseat, left to be abandoned and forgotten. His family being one of those abandoned, forgotten things.

The conversation still replays in his mind as Graves stomps on Omelia’s back.

“General [Surname] has been a pain in the fucking ass for as long as I can remember. The weak bastard’s always opposing the opportunity to strike, and he’s going to be the reason why our enemies are going to accuse us of being a bunch of pussies.”

Graves nods in agreement, even if he doesn’t truly agree. General McHenry’s been the one kind enough to take him under his wing, and so it’s better to just go with what he says and continue to benefit from the general’s sponsorship. Raw talent and simple ambition only gets you so far nowadays.

“You agree, dont’cha? ‘Course ya do.” McHenry grumbles, pacing around the room. “[Surname] refuses to man up and fuckin’ fight. It doesn’t help that he’s still viewed as a golden boy around here. He’s even got the fuckin’ president wrapped around his finger.”

Graves personally doesn’t have anything against General [Surname]. He seems like a nice enough guy. He’s a war hero, too.

Then again, so is McHenry.

“When I’m at the top of the fuckin’ foodchain, [Surname] and his entire family is going to regret crossing me. You understand, Graves?”

Graves nods. Lately, McHenry’s been going on little tangents like this, where he’s secretly plotting the downfall of this general. He goes along with it because he feels like he owes it to McHenry, and even if there’s only a sliver of a chance of taking down General [Surname], Graves will follow through for McHenry because the payoff will be fantastic.

He doesn’t actually anticipate McHenry coming up with a feasible plan.

“Fuck! What the fuck is your problem, Graves?!”

The howl of pain from Omelia snaps him back to his current reality. Staring down at the pitiful, crumpled form of Omelia, Graves can’t find it in himself to feel the slightest bit of remorse. Truth be told, Omelia’s had it coming since day one.

The pathetic idiot’s been eyeing General [Surname]’s daughter ever since you stepped foot on base. Everyone is aware of your presence, especially this year’s class. The famous general’s only daughter is going to be here all summer? And you just so happen to be the prettiest fucking thing most of these guys have ever laid eyes on? Trouble was bound to happen.

Graves just didn’t know that he was going to be one of the unlucky participants of it.

He sighs, crouching down before taking a hand to tug at the collar of Omelia’s shirt. The action forces Omelia to weakly lift his head, allowing him to look Graves in his gunmetal blue eyes.

“Where is it?” Graves doesn’t sound angry, which is shocking to poor Omelia considering the fact that he sure as hell punches like he is. The proof is in the constant stream of blood trickling out of his nose.

“Where’s what?” He’s not even feigning ignorance, which Graves can’t necessarily fault him for. He’s not really the type to wear his heart on his sleeve — would much rather prefer to pretend that he doesn’t even have one, thank you very much — but he’s on a bit of a time crunch right now. He knows your schedule. You’re going to be leaving the canteen pretty soon, and if he wants to catch you, he needs to speed things up.

He chooses to further take his irritation out on Omelia, punching the guy with his left fist this time. It’s not a particularly hard punch; he figures he’s already done enough damage, and by the time word gets around of his transgressions, Graves will hopefully already have McHenry pulling some strings to make sure his punishment isn’t too severe. Now, though, both of his hands are bloody. Blood is a bitch to wash away.

“Fuck!” Omelia yelps. “What the fuck are you even looking for?”

“Her necklace. The damn locket that she confronted you about for stealing. Where the hell is it?” With each sentence, Graves shakes the boy, forcing his limp body to jerk with each aggressive tug. Graves starts to feel a little bit guilty, before he remembers that technically, Omelia made you cry.

You’re cute, Graves finds himself thinking. Too cute to be crying over an idiot like him.

The guilt dissipates.

“That’s what all this shit is about? Over some stupid fu—”

Omelia’s complaints are interrupted by another one of his pained screams. Graves had punched him again, this time a bit harder.

“I don’t have time for your bullshit.” Graves growls. He switches gripping Omelia’s shirt in favor for curling his fingers into the locks of the boy’s hair. It’ll be easier to use that as a sort of leash; provides him the ability to more forcefully bash the idiot’s head into the pavement beneath his feet. Seemingly smart enough to sense the impending danger, Omelia quickly begins to shout.

“It’s in my fucking left pocket! Left pocket, left pocket!”

Graves keeps his grip tight and unyielding as he uses his free hand to rummage in said pocket. Sure enough, Omelia had enough sense to not lie.

He releases Omelia unceremoniously, clutching the dainty necklace and keeping it safely secured in the calloused palm of his hand.

His parting words — more like a warning — leaves Omelia wondering just who the fuck are you to Graves.

The next time you make her cry, I’ll break every fucking bone in your body for every tear she spills.

Eighteen years old. Freshly graduated from high school. More college acceptances than you know what to do with. General [Surname]’s only child. His precious little princess. His only immediate family, and after the untimely death of your mother, his biggest weakness.

General McHenry is teaching Graves on how to exploit weaknesses.

“Good job,” McHenry says, laughing before clapping Graves on the back of his shoulder. “You sure can put on a performance, son.”

Son. Huh. It has a bit of a nice ring to it, he supposes.

“Y’know, I thought I wouldn’t be able to stick out my neck for ya, but you must’ve done some Oscar-worthy acting, boy. You should’ve seen the look on that girl’s face when she begged her daddy not to let ‘em punish you too harshly. Looks like you’re smarter than you look.”

Yeah, sure. It’s a bit of a backhanded compliment, but Graves will settle for it. He just has to deal with this shit for a while longer, and soon, he’ll never have to settle for anything ever again.

At first, General McHenry thought it was a bit of a bullshit idea. The general’s daughter is much too protected by the likes of her father and his closest allies to be touched by the likes of any outsiders. The best way to have him in the palm of their hands is to hit you with it, but that provides to be a bit of a challenge. No direct attack on you will go unpunished.

Graves suggests playing the long game.

He’s read your file, and it doesn’t take a psych degree to read you to filth. You’re nothing more than a pretty girl who’s been spoiled and sheltered by her father all her life. You’re eighteen and about to begin the start of your life, and you probably feel as if you’ve never done anything exciting. Even if you act like a stickler for rules or you’re scared to face the consequences of disobeying your father, with the right words and the right timing, Graves bets planting the seeds of rebellion in your naive, little brain will be a simple task. He’s certain you’ve never had a boyfriend, never even been given the chance to go out on a date — the slightest bit of affection will have you eating out the palm of his hands. The same hands he’s going to use to force your father into the ground, allowing him and McHenry to do whatever the fuck they want.

Naturally, no good deed goes unpunished. Graves still has to scrub the bathrooms with a toothbrush for the next two nights, but it’s a small price to pay. If you truly caused a commotion and swayed your own father to change his stance all for a guy you don’t even know the name of, he’s certain in the next few months, he’ll have you craving his last name and the privilege of bearing his children.

Which isn’t such a bad thing. You’re pretty, he’ll give you that. The prettiest girl he’s ever seen, too.

“What do you plan on doing next?” McHenry asks, grinning. Graves smiles back.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it all figured out.”

Word spreads around quickly in places like these. While you saw the evidence all over his knuckles, hearing what actually transpired leaves you a bit breathless — shocked, but not necessarily because of the violence of it all. Shocked because it had all been done in your honor.

It’s only been two days since the incident, but the feeling of your locket pressed against your skin seems to burn. It serves as a constant reminder of the boy who fought to get it back for you, and suddenly, this necklace has two special memories behind it. You never want to take it off again.

You catch snippets of the recruits whispering to each other, but it’s hard to hear the full story whenever they look up and notice you’re nearby. No one has outright approached you about your connection to this whole fight, and it’s not until dinnertime that you finally get all the details.

“What’s this I hear about between you and Graves?”

“Me and who?” You continue twisting your pasta around your fork, perfectly content with eating in silence and daydreaming about the boy who retrieved your necklace for you. You’ve been texting your closest friends from high school about all the drama, questioning them on what it means. The general consensus? That boy’s got it bad for you. The thought makes you way too happy.

“Phillip Graves.” Your father says.

You shrug, still not sure who he’s talking about.

“Young lady, do not play the fool with me. According to Omelia, he’s the one who left him bloody and bruised outside the back of the gym.”

So, two things you now know for certain: Omelia is a necklace thief, and the boy you’re thinking about is named Phillip Graves. This is becoming a truly enlightening conversation.

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know his name.”

“You don’t know his name, and yet, he’s starting brawls over you?”

“Well, dad, when you put it like that—”

“[Name], what Graves did was a very inappropriate thing to do. Honorable men should never raise their fists against their own fellow soldiers, especially over disputes that could have easily been solved with a simple conversation.”

“Dad, you don’t seriously think that he’s the bad guy in the situation! He’s the one who defended me—”

“I’m just saying, sweetheart, that he used unnecessary force—”

“Omelia is such a jerk! You weren’t there that day. He totally humiliated me in front of everyone in the canteen whenever I tried to make ‘simple conversation’. He wouldn’t listen at all.”

“There’s going to be a meeting to discuss what Graves has done. I personally believe that he should be punished in accordance to what’s written down for men who act as rashly and harshly as he did.”

“Dad!” You gasp, dropping your fork entirely. It makes a tiny sound as it hits the porcelain of your plate, but you ignore the clanging noise. “Don’t you think that’s unfair?”

“Omelia has a broken nose, [Name].”

“Omelia stole the last piece of mom I have left. He would have never given it back if his nose wasn’t broken.”

Looking back, maybe the violence was harsh and uncalled for. A punch might have sufficed. The brutality he’s capable of is simply excusable in your untainted mind. You reason that all soldiers must be capable of going through great lengths to protect and defend others. Isn’t that what he was doing? Protecting and defending you?

“If you vote to have him punished horribly, I won’t forgive you.”

Even if your bottom lip is trembling and your hands are shaking, your father can see that there’s some conviction behind your words. He’s never been one to deny you, his only daughter, and perhaps Graves is just young and brash.  

“Fine.” Your father says, appeasing you.

The clink of his fork tapping against his own plate sounds a bit too much like the first domino of his downfall.

“You never told me your name,” you’re standing with your arms crossed against your chest. The sunlight coming through one of the large windows hits your necklace, making it shine. He takes in your entire form, memorizing the shape and silhouette of your body. You’re a sight for sore eyes, at least.

“I’ve got a feeling you already know it, though.” He watches the way you fight down a smile at his remark. He bets you have a pretty smile.

You pull out the seat that’s across from him.

“I didn’t know you read.” You say. You’ve been plotting running into him for the past week now, and you know that he frequents the library every day for at least an hour. You’re not sure what he likes to read, but you doubt brushing up on the hockey romances on your Kindle will provide much conversation. You downloaded The Art of War and only made it past the first three pages before deciding that you’ll just manipulate the conversation into something not about books.

“You think about my literacy levels on your freetime, honey?”

All common sense evaporates the moment he calls you honey.

He teases you every time he talks to you (which, then again, isn’t very much), and so you’re certain there’s nothing genuine behind the pet name, but it still makes you undeniably giddy. No one’s ever called you something so sweet before.

Trying to appear unfazed and not as flustered as you feel, you eloquently reply back, “Um— I— No.”

He laughs, the same nice laugh that you can’t stop thinking about. It almost makes up for the fact that he’s most certainly laughing at you.

“Don’t feel bad. I think about you during my freetime, too.”

He can’t just go around saying stuff like that! It’s unfair! It’s… No one goes around saying stuff like that!

“What? Nothing to say to me now?” He’s grinning at you, book in his hand long-forgotten. You notice that it’s not mean, though, which makes you relax just the slightest.

“You shouldn’t joke about things like that.” You tell him. “People might take you seriously.”

“Well, they should. I am serious.”

And for a split second, he thinks he’s being a bit cruel. Mean, at the very least. The way you’re looking at him makes it plainly obvious that you’ve never been flirted with a day in your life.

The hopeful gleam in your bright eyes makes him believe his own lie, just for a brief moment.

It could be worse, he reasons with himself. There are worse people to pretend to fall in love with, after all.

You’ve never been gifted flowers before.

Maybe Phillip knows this. Maybe the insane amount of bouquets he’s gifting you is to make up for all that lost time. Maybe he’s just one of those people who believe in going big or going home.

Maybe he likes you as much as you like him.

You know how your father feels about dating. He’s a rather traditional man. Believes in the whole entire “ask him for permission before taking his little girl away from him” type of shit. Graves is thorough with his research, and even gathered the courage to ask your father for the chance to take you on a date.

It had been a risk—

—one that almost didn’t pay off.

He thinks his ears are still ringing from the shouts of your father. He’s heard reports that he’s a stoic man, for the most part, and isn’t one for conflict when there’s an option that avoids it. But he’s also a reasonable man, and so, Graves can’t necessarily fault him for the rant he went on.

You’re six years older than her! The hell are you doing trying to take her on a date?

He eventually calmed down, of course. Graves took the brunt of the screams pretty well, gave a whole long lecture on how he would never harm a hair on your precious head. He didn’t anticipate on liking you so much, and believe him, he’s been trying to fight down the feelings he’s harboring for you, but he knows he’ll regret not at least trying.

Your father is soft on you. You must talk about Graves more than he realizes it, because General [Surname] gives him his permission a lot easier than he planned on.

He almost feels bad for the way he’s playing your family like a fool.

Then he remembers the power he’ll receive once all is said and done, and he can almost ignore the lingering feelings of guilt.

He forgets everything when you walk through the doors of the library, surprised at the sight greeting you.

He’s made sure that everyone on base knows to avoid the library at all costs tonight, and he even retrieved the key from the librarian on hand after slipping him a twenty and whispering a quick threat about what will happen if he isn’t left alone in this building. Dealing with the closest florist available and strategically arranging all the bouquets to the point where the whole front entrance of the library is covered in red roses. The spines of the books, the front desks, every table — none of them are visible due to the sheer amount of flowers obscuring them from view.

“I don’t–? What?” You take in the scenery before looking at him. He’s got a large bouquet in his hand and a proud smile on his face, like he’s pleased with your reaction. You think this is a good thing.

“Told ya I was serious. Now you believe me?”

There are weeks that go by without the two of you ever even talking. Most days, you’re lucky enough to be walking past him on the base, and for a fleeting moment, he’ll shoot you a smile that’s so quick, you blink and he’s already long gone. You convince yourself that there’s a meaning to all of this, though. That distance must truly make the heart grow fonder, because why else are you collecting all the scraps you’re given and convincing yourself that they’re the only things keeping you full?

(It’s hard to face reality when you find yourself falling in love with the image of his back turned, walking away from you.)

And in your mind, you’re right. You’re pleased to find out that you’re not just some silly little teenage girl, falling in love with the first person who will give her the time of day. After all, this isn’t necessarily your first time experiencing what it’s like to be crushed on.

It is your first time being wowed by someone so much older and therefore unattainable.

It’s addicting — his attention. He can only gift you his affections so few and far between; every time you find yourself on the receiving end of it, you get dizzy from excitement and joy. This is someone who likes you. Someone who likes you so much, he does grand gestures like this to properly court you.

It’s not your fault, is what you’ll tell yourself in the future. Anyone would have fallen for his tricks.

Anyone would have fallen for him.

Being with Phillip is exciting. Your friends from school tell you it’s simply because he’s your first boyfriend — the word still makes you smile every time you think about it — but you know in your heart that it’s because it’s him that makes it exciting.

You like the way he teases you, not to mock you or to bully you, but because that’s just how he shows his affection. You like the way he’s better than all of your friends’ boyfriends because unlike them, Phillip is actually a man. He’s older, making him more knowledgeable about a lot of things. You like the way he never makes you lift a single finger; you think you’re almost forgetting how to do basic things, like opening doors and pulling out chairs and even putting on your seatbelt yourself. But he makes up for it by teaching you things.

Things like spreading your legs for him when he tells you to, even when you’re not expecting him to.

“Phillip, I—” You forget what you’re about to tell him the moment the moan escapes from your lipglossed lips. It’s your nineteenth birthday. Dad’s away on a mission. Phillip tells you he had to pull some strings to not get sent away, either, and the lengths he’ll go to keep you happy makes your heart flutter.

The two of you get into his fancy sports car, and he drives upstate to a quaint little bed and breakfast that he knows you’ve been doing research on. The two of you were supposed to be heading out for dinner right about now, but when you finished getting ready, something in your beloved boyfriend seemed to change.

Now you’re not having a birthday dinner.

Gripping the sheets and gasping as the cool air hits your bottom half because of the way Phillip flipped the skirt of your dress, you realize that at least one of you will be eating tonight.

“Phillip, we—we don’t have time to be doing this.” You weakly protest, no true conviction behind your words.

Before him, you would have never imagined how good one person can make you feel with just the tips of their fingers or strategic movements with their mouths. Now the flood of pleasurable memories travels from your mind to in between your thighs as you remember just what exactly Phillip Graves is capable of.

“Fuck, baby, you’re already so soaked. I haven’t even done anything yet.” He murmurs, ignoring you entirely. He licks his lips, pressing quick, wet kisses against your inner thighs.

“Phillip, wh—what about dinner?” You fight the urge to instinctively buck your hips, but it gets harder to think reasonable thoughts whenever you feel him tugging at the waistband of your panties.

“You should’ve thought about that before wearing this slutty little dress. Were you trying to get the whole restaurant to fuck you with their eyes?” He practically spits out the sentences, and you’re momentarily shocked.

“I didn’t think it was…slutty.” You say, voice sounding as small as you feel. He can feel you practically shrinking away from him, and he mutters out a swear.

He doesn’t mean it. Doesn’t mean to be harsh with you; he knows you’re a sweet girl. He knows you would never have bad intentions.

But he’s not sweet. And he never has good intentions unless he’s the one benefitting.

And he can tell McHenry and even himself that this is all just a ploy to take down your father, but the moment he knew he had you wrapped around his finger was the same moment he realized that if he’s not the one protecting you from the dangers of men like him — maybe even men worse than him — then who will? It’s not like father dearest, for all his overbearing efforts, is doing that great of a job. Look at how easily Graves slipped through those defenses.

He’s doing right by you, is what he tells himself as he strips you of your panties, leaving you in just your pretty pink sundress. Men are wolves. They’ll take one look at you and eat you alive.

At least he has the decency and heart to make it a good time for you.

He presses a kiss against your clit, and you almost forgive him for his cruel words. Phillip makes everything so easy, including forgetting about any of his minor transgressions.

“I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean it like that.”

You nod, even though you’re sure that he can’t even see the movement. He’s too busy with his head buried in between your thighs, kissing all over you, sucking hickeys on your thighs before his mouth meets right where you truly need him. You can’t even remember what he’s apologizing for the moment you feel him lapping up your juices before plunging his tongue inside your needy cunt as if it’s his right to do so.

Your hands find purchase in the thick locks of his hair rather than the bedsheets. Phillip has been doing this lately — eating you out, that is. The first time he had done it, you nearly cried from the sheer embarrassment of having someone so close to a part of you that is so intimate. You suppose, though, that if it had to be anyone, at least it’s him.

You always want it to be him.

You wonder if all men are like this. If all men plunge so deeply into the wet depths of their girlfriend’s pussy. Your walls flutter around his tongue, and the tip of nose seems to brush against your clit every so often, only adding to the overwhelming stimulation. Maybe it’s because you’ve never done this before him, or maybe it’s because he has a stronger effect on you than he should have, or maybe it’s because you’re just a sensitive girl — maybe it’s all of the fucking above. No matter the reason, all you know is that the pleasure Phillip is capable of handing out is nothing short of overwhelming.

You gasp and mewl out his name, letting out breathy moans of curse words — such filthy words have never left your mouth before he tainted you — and you keep tugging at his hair. He pulls away, your weak grip doing nothing to keep where you want him. Before you can complain, he immediately replaces his tongue with two fingers, scisscoring them inside of you, trying to stretch you out.

“Such a tight, little pussy.” He breathes out, chin wet with your slick and eyes darkened with lust. “Wonder if my pretty, little girlfriend can make me proud.”

“Huh?” Your pleasure-addled mind makes it hard for you to keep up with what he’s saying, and he only chuckles darkly at your clear confusion. He’s only been eating your sweet pussy for a few minutes, and you’re already too fucked out to even make conversation.

Cute. You’re too cute.

Fuck — he wants to keep you by his side forever. Even after his little con is over, and he gets the position he wants.

“You know what I wanna give you for your birthday, baby?” He’s still slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your tight hole, and he relishes in the feeling of your walls contracting and squeezing against him. He decides to add in a third finger, which makes you gasp. He takes that opportunity to press his lips against yours, forcing his tongue inside your mouth and giving you a sloppy kiss. You think you can taste a hint of yourself on his tongue, and the dirtiness of it all makes you moan into his mouth. Everything right now is so filthy. You don’t know why you’re enjoying it so much.

“I wanna give you something special.” His voice is rough with lust, and the feeling of him curling his fingers in your tight cunt makes everything so hard to keep track of. All you can focus on is the heat coiling in your belly, and your eyes are glazed, barely able to look at him straight. “I want to give your little pussy something you deserve. I’m going to fuck my cum in you, and then when we go out to dinner, everyone is going to be able to see your wellbred pussy. How does that sound, hm? You want it? You want me filling your cunt with cum for the first time?”

If you had been in your right state of mind, you would have had the decency to be embarrassed at the way you cum all over his fingers, his words bringing you right to the edge.

“Oh? I think my baby likes the sound of that, huh? Just turned nineteen and already such a slut for me.” He’s still lazily thrusting his fingers in your cunt, and your walls are still spasming from the orgasm. “But you only act like this just for me, right?”

You nod too eagerly. “Yes, yes, yes. Only you. Only your slut, only want your cock, your cum.”

He’s already unzipping his pants, tugging down his briefs, freeing his cock from its confines. He removes his fingers from your wet hole, and your cum and juices act as lube as he uses it to wet his cock. In the back of his mind, even he’s aware of how far he’s taking this.

There’s no coming back from this — he knows this. But he’s still going to do it.

“You trust me, baby?” His eyes search yours for any hint of hesitation. He knows that he’s taken advantage of your naivety already; if you tell him to stop, he will. He expects to see nothing pure in your eyes, certain that he’s your ruination, only to have his heart skip a beat when he realizes that there’s only love and reverence in them. You’ve fallen for him, and he has no idea why he feels the way he does. Swallowing hard, he ignores his uneasy feelings in favor of giving into the one he knows he can actually control: lust.

You nod your head, eager to please him. His rough hands are gripping both your legs, easily exposing yourself to him, and you should feel incredibly vulnerable, but all you really feel is safe. It’s Phillip, after all. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.

“Good girl.” His eyes travel down your body, stopping once to admire the amount of marks he’s left on your soft skin, and then stopping again the moment he sees his prize. Your pretty pussy is slick with arousal, tiny hole clenching around nothing. You want him; it’s clear as day. And he’ll give it to you, give you everything; any part of him that he can afford to give is yours for the taking.

What he’s doing is unforgivable.

He doesn’t want forgiveness, though.

His hands grip your waist as he sheaths himself into your virgin cunt, your previous orgasm allowing the movement to be slick. It’s far more gentle than Phillip would treat anyone else, but it’s merciless all the same. There is no room for resistance, and all you can do is moan out in pain and pleasure as you feel yourself stretching to accommodate his length and girth.

You thought your first time would be romantic. A room full of roses, at least, like when he first asked you out.

But it’s Phillip. As long as it’s him, you’re happy.

“Fuck, baby.” He groans out, voice sounding raspy as he watches your tiny hole taking his dick like it’s supposed to. You feel full, filled to the fucking brim, and the foreign feeling of it all has you confused and overwhelmed. There’s a slight sting, and you think you should wait for the pain to subside, but he’s already shallowly thrusting, and you choose to shut up.

Phillip knows best. Phillip would have waited if you were supposed to wait.

“Forgot how good virgin pussy feels.” His touch is possessive as his hands travels all over your body, exploring areas he’s already well acquainted with before gripping your hips once more. His thrusts are starting to get more aggressive, but you find that the pleasure outweighs the pain. All you can feel is Phillip.

For a second, you wonder how many girls he’s been with before. Then he leans down to give you a kiss, and you forget what you were worried about.

“Don’t worry too much, baby. Just relax, and let me fill your pussy. Then, I’ll take you out to your birthday dinner. How does that sound?”

Nice. It sounds nice. Actually, you wonder why you even cared about something as silly as a birthday celebration. Isn’t this good enough?

“Should I make you go out with no panties? You’re squeezing me so tightly, I bet your cunt can hold my cum all night.” He kisses your forehead, the action far too sweet, juxtaposing the rough thrusts of his hips slapping against yours. “Or maybe I’ve loosened you up too much, and it’ll just drip all over your thighs and onto the floor. Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

You moan, imagining the filthy scenario in your head. Everyone would see; how humiliating. How exhilarating.

“At least everyone would know that you’re. Fucking. Mine.” He starts to punctuate every word with an especially rough thrust, and you can only moan as you lie there, taking it all. Taking everything he’ll give to you, and turning it into something sacred.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!” You cry out, and you prove it. You’ve proved it by the slight blood painting his cock from when he took your virginity, and you prove it a step further by cumming all over his cock. This is the first time you’ve ever came on it; Phillip vows to make sure it’s not the last.

Even if it jeopardizes his own personal mission.

“Atta girl.” He groans out, practically hammering into you at this point. You’re fucked boneless, left to just serve as a cocksleeve as he chases after his own pleasure. Phillip is surprisingly meticulous. He’s usually better at keeping himself composed, never one to give in to instinctual, animalistic pleasure.

In the back of his mind, he knows the risk, has even calculated it. He’s never done something as stupid and reckless as fucking a girl raw.

But no girl has ever been as sweet as you, as trusting as you. It’s the lust talking as he imagines you as the mother of his children. You’d be kind and patient, teach them to be better. They wouldn’t become fuckups like him if you’re there to raise them.

He can see it. He’s always been good at envisioning his future. Coming home to you barefoot and carrying his kids isn’t so bad. It’d be nice. He’d build you your dream house, make sure you always stay bred and dripping with his cum, keep you safe.

All of these thoughts only serve to bring him to the edge, and he makes sure he’s as deep in you as possible as his warm cum shoots inside. He refuses to pull out, and you don’t tell him to. Why would you? You feel closer to him than ever, and he’s kissing your forehead now, cooing that you’ve been such a good girl for him.

You’re tired. You felt like you’ve barely done anything, and yet your eyes are droopy and your vision is getting blurred. You still find the strength to mumble it out, though.

I love you.

He freezes up immediately, but when he looks down at you, you’re already fast asleep.

He’s got you hook, line, and fucking sinker.

So why doesn’t he feel like celebrating?

“Dad, what’s going on?” Your confusion is evident on your face. Your father has his hands pinned to his back, and there are men in scary uniforms yelling at you, and you’re frozen in place. “Dad, tell them that this is a mistake!”

“I’m going to be okay. Nothing bad is going to happen to me.” Your dad’s words of reassurance do little to console you; it’s kind of hard to believe what he’s saying whenever he’s quite literally getting arrested by men who are supposed to respect him.

You’ve just gotten back from a date with Phillip. He had seemed a bit off, but you brushed aside his odd behavior as a result of his nervousness. After all, he ended up presenting you with a promise ring. You don’t think he’s ever given someone something so precious and important.

Your good mood obviously disappeared the moment you walked through your front door.

“You’re innocent. You know nothing. They’re going to make sure that you stay in a safe place while I’m gone, okay? Just do what they tell you, and wait for me to get back—”

“Dad, I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” The desperation and anxiety in your voice makes him frown, but there’s nothing he can do as the officers drag him out of the house. Despite your screams of protest, they don’t stop, and even you know hitting an officer would only make things worse. It’s not as if you could have done any real damage anyway.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The worst part is, you don’t even know what he’s apologizing for.

They’re calling your father a traitor. And by extension, you are one, too. A child is but a reflection of their parents, after all.

Your mother was an enemy spy, and your father knew. Even worse, he protected her. Broke his own moral code, broke the rules of his training, destroyed everything — all for her. The proof was hidden inside his own office, and you don’t even know how someone could have broken in to obtain such incriminating evidence.

Now everyone is treating you like a criminal, down to giving you only one phone call. Naturally, the only person you can think to phone is Phillip. He’ll understand. He’ll calm you down, explain everything to you because that’s just what he does. He’ll know what to do. He’ll get you out of this mess.

You bite down on your lip, impatiently waiting for him to pick up. Usually, he picks up after the second ring, but the dial tone goes on for what seems like ages until you hit the automated voicemail message. You frown, wondering if he’s been sent away. You try again for good measure, but he doesn’t pick up the second time, either. You’re about redial and try for a third time before the woman supervising you snatches the phone away.

“It’s supposed to be one call, remember?”

You don’t talk back, afraid to make things worse, but you don’t think it’s fair. Phillip didn’t even pick up for it to count as a phone call.

You try again and again. Every time they make you move to a different safehouse, you waste that one phone call opportunity on him, daring to hope that he’ll pick up.

After a month, the dial tone haunts you in your sleep.

Hindsight truly is 20/20. When you’re free from the haze of first loves and rebellion, when the smoke of lust has dissipated from the air, when you’re given nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company, that’s when everything starts coming together.

That’s when you can see a traitor for what they are, not what they tell you to view them as.

On the way to the next safehouse, they had to stop at a gas station. You had to learn to be sneaky these days, and the old you would have felt incredibly guilty at the idea of stealing a pregnancy test, but you refuse to ask your handler for one. Pride is the cause — or maybe shame is more accurate.

Whatever the reason is, you find yourself locked up in a gas station bathroom, your worst fears confirmed.

[quin-ns]

cowboy like me (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Word count: 3.3K

Summary: you and JJ realize you share a skill set and partner up

Tags: meet-cute, JJ steals and so do you, humor, fluff, flirting, dancing, mutual crush, love confessions, kissing, two kleptos falling in love <3

A/N: very much inspired by the song “cowboy like me” by taylor swift. it’s such a good song and I recommend listening to it if you haven’t. if you have listened, don’t worry this isn’t a sad fic. the focus pulls from the outlaws in love :)

cross-posted to ao3 • obx masterlist • main masterlist

The meeting was an accident, but everything changed after you were walking passed JJ and bumped into him.

“I’m so sorry!” you told him, but JJ shrugged it off with a smile. He was in a good mood, a little buzzed, and now he had an excuse to talk to a pretty girl.

“No harm done,” he assured. “I don’t think we’ve met.” It was true, you looked unfamiliar. Maybe he’d seen you around school but at the moment he couldn’t recall. 

“I don’t usually show up to things like this,” you revealed. “I’m Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand.

“JJ,” he introduced himself, taking your hand in his and giving a quick shake. 

He was about to pull away, but he felt something cold against his fingertips.

You were nice and probably didn’t deserve to have your bracelet stolen, but JJ couldn’t stop himself from sliding the chain off of your wrist. He didn’t even know if it looked valuable or not, but years of impulsive behavior made it not matter. He palmed it in his hand and pulled back, looking nonchalant as ever.

“So you said you don’t really come to parties? Is there a reason you showed up tonight?” JJ was curious to get to know you despite the theft.

“A friend of mine actually asked me to come,” you replied. Looking off to the side, you pointed in a vague way. “She’s waving to me now, but maybe I’ll see you around.” JJ looked in that direction but got distracted when you playfully bumped into him, mimicking the accidental run-in that occurred before. You shot him a smile and a wink that had him letting out a small chuckle.

He watched you walk off into a group, a small spark rushing through him. You disappeared in the crowd and a sudden feeling of guilt overwhelmed him. The chain bracelet weighed heavy in his hand and JJ was already regretting what he’d done. Why did he have to be so greedy? He started to go after you, but stopped himself. If you had formed any sort of positive opinion of him, he was sure it would turn sour if the second time he talked to you was to confess to stealing off of you.

JJ frowned to himself, feeling stuck in a stalemate. Eventually he slid the bracelet into his pocket, thinking of a lie along the lines of “hey, I randomly found this and somehow know it’s  yours" or “your bracelet accidentally fell into my hand” but nothing sounded good.

The bracelet fell into his pocket and JJ immediately registered it was the only thing in there. His eyes went wide. 

Where was his wallet?

He whipped his head in the direction you had gone, realizing the side you’d bumped when you left had been the same side he carried his wallet in. 

“What the hell?” JJ muttered to himself, the pieces falling into place. 

He didn’t stop himself from going after you this time. He weaved his way through the crowd and spotted you easily. You were hard to miss, laughing at something some random guy had said.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ greeted loudly, gaining your attention. He wasn’t angry, though. Not at all. JJ had been stunned at first but now he was just curious and impressed. There was a weird level of excitement, too, when you looked at him.

“Hey, there.” You focused on him, the random boy forgotten. JJ wouldn’t admit out loud that he enjoyed getting your full attention. “Lose something?” you asked knowingly, raising your brows a little and biting back a smile. 

“Actually, yeah,” JJ replied, unknowingly matching your expression. The guy wandered off, leaving the two of you alone. “You seen a wallet? I’m guessing it might be in your pocket.”

“I’ll tell you what.” You crossed your arms, squaring up playfully. “I’ll trade the wallet for my bracelet.”

JJ’s cheeks felt warm all of the sudden. He didn’t think you’d noticed that—didn’t make the connection. 

“That, um, that’s fair, yeah.” JJ pulled the bracelet from his pocket and placed it in your waiting hand. You slid it back on and gave him his wallet in exchange. “That was pretty smooth, by the way. Seems like you have some tricks up your sleeve,” he tried to say casually

“Takes one to know one,” you replied easily. “You were pretty slick, too. If I hadn’t pulled that same move before I probably wouldn’t have felt it,” you commented in a way that sounded complimentary. 

JJ perked up. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it felt nice to get some praise for a skill people usually looked down upon. He wasn��t rich, he had to do what he had to just to get by sometimes—and that caused a habit. Sticky fingers were hard to get rid of, especially when it gave him a rush. But looking at you, the way your eyes held intrigue instead of distaste, he started to suspect you understood.

You did, and it wouldn’t take that long for you to show him that.

That meeting changed everything for both you and JJ. You started going to the summer parties more often. Every time you did, you and JJ somehow “ran into” each other, neither wanting to admit to seeking out the other.

The two of you had started playing a game—one for your own amusement (and at the expense of others). Well, less of a game and more of thievery, but you two made it into a game. Seeing how many people you could pickpocket, different methods, seeing if you could charm and swindle people into giving either of you what you wanted. That one you saved for the kook’s side of town.

And by the time the rich folks in the country clubs you snuck into caught on, you were gone like bandits. 

One time you joked to JJ you were like outlaws, and he came back with, “How about cowboys? It sounds better.”

“Cowboys it is,” you agreed, heart leaping out of your chest when JJ swung his arm over your shoulder. 

You had no idea JJ had already fallen for you, but you did know you were falling for him. 

One night, the two of you decided to get some food and walk around town. JJ didn’t want to go home yet and you wanted to spend as much of the night with him as you could. There were no parties either, and the two of you just hanging out as friends had been normalized for a while.

You and JJ laughed and talked as you strolled around the familiar area. When you came upon a bar, a wicked idea popped into your head. When JJ looked at you, he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“They don’t card,” he said, trying to sound ambiguous.

“Interesting,” you replied with a cheeky grin, holding his gaze. 

Based on a whim, the two walked up to the bar, deciding to finish the night by going after some low hanging fruit.

“Do you have a plan?” JJ wondered as the two of you entered, scanning the surroundings. 

You spotted a drunk looking man sitting alone. You immediately noticed his wallet sitting on the counter in front of him and smirked up at your partner. 

“They make it so easy,” you replied. 

JJ watched, unable to tear his eyes away, as you waltzed over and took a seat next to the man. You were young—same age as JJ—but you could carry yourself with such maturity that you could fool nearly anyone. JJ would’ve been jealous of the way you laughed and flirted with the man, but in the end he knew you’d come back and it would be JJ who you’d truly be spending time and laughing with. 

After you successfully snatched the man’s wallet and brought it to JJ like a trophy, your confidence was up. It was easy to mill about, convincing more than one drunken man that you could’ve been the one. Of course, what you were really after was their valuables. You got another wallet (after the man bought you drinks, which you snuck off to share with JJ), and then a money clip. You also snagged a watch that looked expensive by laying your hand over a man’s to undo the clasps and maneuver it off without him noticing. You were especially proud of that and gifted it to JJ.

“I bet this cost you a fortune,” JJ teased sarcastically, putting on the accessory. Maybe it was bold to put it right in after stealing it, but you had filled your pockets—and JJ needed his empty for what he had planned. 

See, JJ took your winnings as a challenge and decided to go after older women who sat alone or in pairs. He used his boyish charm to get invited to the table and get access to their unsupervised purses. You sat back and watched, an amused smile on your face as they gushed over him every time. 

He returned to you (naturally) flaunting his treasures before hiding them away, just as you had done with him. 

“We should probably get out of here,” you suggested. You had a feeling the longer you stuck around, the more likely it would be that your new “friends” scattered across the bar would start to notice some missing things.

Instead, JJ did something you didn’t expect.

“Wanna dance?” JJ asked with a grin, riding high on the adrenaline. 

“Dancing is a dangerous game,” you warned. It was the kind of thing that could make someone fall in love, but you kept that thought to yourself.

JJ extended the hand, beckoning you to take it. He tilted his head a little, and the grin remained. “But you love dangerous.”

You gave in easily, accepting his hand. JJ pulled you to the small dance floor and the two of you immediately fell in with the crowd. You and everyone around you danced to the upbeat music. Most of the crowd on the dance floor was couples probably in their late twenties. Amongst them, it made it even more obvious that you were teenagers.

It didn’t seem to matter much though, you were just two more faces in the group. 

You and JJ danced together, somehow turning a random array of moves—lots of swaying and spinning—into rhythm. The song passed and shifted into a much slower, very romantic sounding song. You couldn’t make out the full words all that clear, but the ones you did made it obvious. 

Neither you or JJ stopped dancing despite the change. The only thing that changed was your pace. You both slowed down and moved a little closer. 

JJ had been in close proximity to you so many times, but this felt different. This made him just as nervous as it made him excited. He felt somehow more cautious but also more carefree. His mind was so full of contradictions that he had no choice but to push them aside and focus on dancing with you.

Truth be told, putting his attention on you was something JJ never found to be difficult.

JJ held your hand tight in his suddenly and spun you around, trying to impress you. You giggled, colliding with him when he pulled you in. 

“Gotta say, we’re the best looking couple here,” JJ whispered in your ear with a small laugh. 

You gave him a look. Not because of his odd way of trying to compliment both you and himself, but something else. Couple? you wanted to ask. You were maybe a little surprised by the comment, but you weren’t bothered. Far from it.

There was no time for you to actually ask him, though, because suddenly your moment was interrupted.

“Hey!” a man yelled, pointing at you and JJ. “You two! You stole my watch!” The two of you looked to him and sure enough, it was the man who’s watch JJ was currently wearing. He was more aware than you realized and maybe hadn’t planned on drinking the night away on an open tab like you expected.

A guy across the room perked his head up, attention drawn by the first. Neither of you saw it, but he must’ve felt his back pocket and realized it was empty. “That girl took my wallet!”

“He stole my ring!” a lady yelled, looking accusingly at JJ.

“Oh shit,” you cursed. JJ pushed you behind him, ready to take the brunt of the anger as they (and a few others) started closing in, realizing what had happened. The protectiveness that overwhelmed him would be something he admittedly felt a lot, but tried to not act on. You always insisted you could take care of yourself, but he couldn’t fight the instinct in the moment. 

You looked around and spotted a back exit door. It was closer than the front and it was your only way to avoid your marks.

Suddenly, JJ felt your hand grasp his. 

“Run!” you yelled, tugging him in the direction. 

He focused on the door as you dropped his hand, squeezing through the crowd in your own paths. Then you met at the door and took off in a mad dash away from the bar. There was some yelling behind you and neither of you looked back. You only tore your gaze away from the road ahead to look at JJ, and he did the same for you. 

The grin JJ gave you was wild, full of excitement. You felt the same rush. Not even the truck coming up behind the two of you could kill it. One of the barflies decided to be a hero and try to chase the delinquents (that’s what he kept screaming at you out the window) down. 

JJ grabbed your hand this time, his grip much stronger than it had been in the bar. He ran perpendicular to you suddenly and yanked you off the backroad and soon the two of you were sprinting hand and hand off into a small field.

The truck’s owner blared its horn as it sped past, but you could hardly hear it over the sound of you and JJ’s laughter. 

After slowing down, it took a moment of wandering to realize you’d ended up in a park. 

The two of you ducked under a playground structure, keeping out of sight. You sat down and pulled JJ with you. He landed at your side and the two of you caught your breath. Soon, heavy breathing turned into more laughter as the absurdity of the situation set in.

“He was ready to run us over!” you exclaimed, equally shocked and amused. You laughed again to yourself and looked over to JJ. It felt like it was just you and him in the world, and you liked that.

JJ was smiling, but there was something else there. Something in his eyes as you watched him watch you. 

He wondered if you could hear how fast his heart was racing, because it wasn’t just from the running. 

JJ was suddenly aware of how close the two of you were sitting, how you’d grabbed his hand to run, how pushing you behind him to keep you safe felt so natural for him. Every moment he flirted with you and how you’d responded replayed in his mind and how he was desperate to be the one to make you smile and laugh. How when he was around you he felt nothing but pure happiness. How he’d been intrigued by you upon first meeting and every time the two of you were together that feeling only grew and morphed into something else. Something more. 

JJ had never been in love, but he knew this is what it felt like. 

“Earth to JJ,” you said teasingly, waving your hand in front of his face. “You’re not gonna have a heart attack, are you?”

He snapped from his daze to chuckle briefly at your joke. “Nah, I wouldn’t do that to ya,” he responded light-heartedly. In the back of his mind, all he wanted to do was kiss you as you laughed again.

“Good, because I don’t think I can carry you all the way back to town.”

JJ was half listening to you and half focused on trying to bring back the courage he felt in the bar when he’d asked you to dance. 

“Pretty impressive that we’ve spent the whole summer together and this is the first time we got caught,” you mused in JJ’s silence, taking in your surroundings.

“Couple of cowboys on the run,” JJ suggested, smiling to himself. Then at you.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime,” you said, starting to realize his hand was still in yours. You gave it a light squeeze, which brought it to your full attention. His too.

There was a beat of silence where you stared at one another, unable to acknowledge the contact yet finding it to be the only thing either of you could feel.

“Remember when I asked you to dance?” JJ asked, seemingly randomly. But it wasn’t.

You let out a small, amused sound. “It was about ten minutes ago, so yeah.”

JJ felt a little more at ease due to the teasing tone. He wanted to say something about how it was fun, how he enjoyed the feeling of being with you, but he couldn’t force the words out. Instead, he asked, “What did you mean when you said it was dangerous?”

Suddenly, it was as if there was a spotlight on you. Like you’d been shoved onto stage front and center without knowing your lines. Of course, you knew what you had thought at the time, but could you really say that? If you did, would you pay for it? 

“Dancing’s the kinda thing that can make someone fall in love,” you finally said, in that same warning tone that had been present in your own mind before.

Hearing you say that made JJ’s head spin. There were so many different ways he could take it, but there was a glimmer of hope as he wished for the best. Miraculously, his confidence returned. His heart was racing and his cheeks were flushed—and he couldn’t quite hold your gaze for an extended time—but JJ found the strength to say what he was thinking.

“It didn’t take us dancing for me to do that.”

His voice was low and a part of you wondered if you had even heard him right. But the nervous yet longing look in his eyes told you that you had heard JJ correctly.

“JJ—“

“Can I just… say something first?”

You swallowed and nodded, bracing yourself for what words came next. Except, it wasn’t words at all.

JJ’s free hand—the one that wasn’t still holding yours—rose to cup your face. You were sitting side by side, but facing each other already. JJ was able to close the gap between you easily, and you went willingly.

It was like sparks flew the moment JJ’s lips pressed against yours. A switch flipped for the both of you as longing and desire poured out as your lips moved against one another’s. 

The kiss couldn’t have been more perfect. It was long awaited from both you and JJ. With so much build up in your minds, it was like magic when it finally happened.

Neither of you wanted to pull apart, but had to. Oxygen was pretty important, unfortunately. 

Your eyes met and JJ’s seemed to sparkle, like they were full of stars, even in the evening light. He cracked a smile, unable to contain his joy, and you couldn’t help but follow suit. 

“I, uh, know those weren't exactly words…” JJ started sheepishly, causing you to giggle. “I think it got the point across.”

“It definitely did,” you assured. “I never thought we’d be here,” you mused, not just about the park but about everything.

“Me neither,” JJ agreed. “But I couldn’t be happier.”

Like a true cowboy, JJ had stolen your heart. You never wanted love at first, but now you didn’t know what you’d do without it—without him.

You and JJ were destined to be partners in crime. And if he had it his way and you had it yours, it would stay that way forever.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. [masterlist]

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader total word count: tbc summary: as corroded coffin frontman, eddie munson regards himself as perhaps the most important person in the 90s music scene. that is until he meets you — america's favourite starlet. things evolve pretty quickly from there.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: smut with a rather angsty plot, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mutual pining, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption, emotional hurt / comfort, topics of guilt / regret, general family drama — if i missed anything, pls let me know! also, pls read the warnings for each individual chapter.

psa: images used in the headers don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine

blurbs & things:

honesty: the music video

a/n: the following are some songs that inspired this story / keep inspiring this story. i'll probably be adding as i write along, but feel free to also share some that remind you of eddie + the starlet.

hole - celebrity skin | taylor swift - miss americana & the heartbreak prince | the cure - just like heaven | maisie peters - not another rockstar | red hot chilli peppers - californication | måneskin ft. tom morello - gossip | inhaler - if you’re gonna break my heart | r.e.m. - shiny happy people | nasty cherry - six six six | fleetwood mac - silver springs | lana del rey - fuck it i love you | u2 - mysterious ways | rod stewart - sailing | suki waterhouse - to love | lenny kravitz - i belong to you | guns n’ roses - don’t cry | taylor swift - don’t blame me | ringside - tired of being sorry | cigarettes after sex - motion picture soundtrack | future islands - deep in the night | letters to cleo - i want you to want me

[cranberrv]

slut!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ in which you’re love-struck

( warnings : fem!reader, tipsy!reader, fluff, friends to lovers, HEAVILY inspired by ‘slut!’ by taylor swift )

clink, clink…

the sound of beer or wine glasses echo through buck merrill’s bar as people cheers or they hit the table.

you and dallas are on a couch, you’re a bit tipsy, and he’s made it his job to take care of you. he’s a gentleman when he wants to be. his arm is around you, pulling you in and making sure you don’t do anything stupid. you’re laughing and talking with him, it’s pretty late so the atmosphere in this bar is a bit quiet. you’re spending most of your time gazing up at him as he talks, the eye-contact between you two is endless. he’s addicting to you. he has no idea how love-struck you are with him, but everyone else knows.

girls glance over at you two constantly, bitter looks in their eyes. they’re judging you. your short dress, the way dallas is spending so much time with you, how tipsy you are. you come across as a bit of a slut to the naked eye. you’re so obviously not a slut, but maybe it’s worth it for once that they’re giving you these dirty glances and thinking their crude thoughts. why? because dallas has so clearly noticed them. any girl that glances at you gets a very threatening glare from his cold eyes, only to warm up as soon as he looks back at you.

everyone wants him, but they aren’t adorned with the smell of his cigarette smoke on their clothes, they don’t have his arm around them, they don’t have his full attention. you do.

you take another sip of your beer. he’s so badly wanted you to stop, so badly wanting to care for you and make sure you feel good in the morning. but he doesn’t say anything, just letting you make your own decisions.

“you should probably stop starting beef with random girls, dal,” you tease, playfully pushing his shoulder. “their boyfriends are all starin’ at you.”

“it’s fine, [y/n], not like they’re gonna do anything, huh? they’ll thank us for making them realize their broads are in love with me.” he says, a playful and arrogant touch in his words.

“god, you’re so cocky, aren’t you?” you roll your eyes. “it might blow up in your pretty face someday.”

he shrugs. “well ain’t that a shame,” he says sarcastically, looking out at the party and pulling you closer to him as he does so.

your eyes have not once left him this entire party. a smile grazes your lips at his sarcasm and teasing, your eyes full of love, admiration, and pure joy at his constant attention toward you tonight.

“dallas,” you say softly, grabbing his attention. he looks down at you. “you look good tonight.”

he chuckles softly. “thank you, sweetie.” he never calls you pet names, and you always get jealous when he calls other girls that. but now you’re that girl.

more comfortable silence falls after that. he’s waiting for you to say something, he knows you want to say something, by the way your mouth keeps opening and closing. you’re just trying to figure out how to word it.

you’re exploding, you need to tell him about your silly crush. your brain is flooded with alcohol, completely forgetting that one confession could ruin your entire friendship.

you finally speak, words soft and delicate, a bit nervous to tell him. “what if all i need is you, dal?”

his eyebrows shoot up ever so slightly. he stays quiet, a bit surprised by your words. he knew it was coming, he could feel it, but it’s shocking nonetheless.

he’s not saying he’s in love with you, but he’s going to. he’ll say it eventually. the silence is excruciating painful, waiting for him to say something. truthfully, your confession was a bit vague, a bit hypothetical, but he got the message. he knew what you were trying to say.

“say something, dal,” you eventually speak. you’re not one to beg for attention, but suddenly all your proudness has dissolved.

his head turns to you, looking down at you. your heart beats faster. it’s almost like looking in a mirror. the look in his eyes has changed, mirroring the exact look you’ve been giving him all night. one of admiration and warmth. your cheeks have turned flamingo pink, and the sun is rising. have you really been here all night?

half-asleep, he’s taking his time. you know what’s about to happen. but it’s happening oh-so slowly. dallas winston has never hesitated with a kiss, until now.

half-awake, you’re taking a chance. putting your hand on the back of his neck, your lips parting slightly as both of your pretty faces near each other. the neon light is making this feel luxury, like a hollywood movie. the time in the movie where the two finally realize their feelings, and the excruciatingly painful burn when they take a bit too long for their lips to touch. your eyes flutter closed, so do his. his guard is breaking down, he’s pulling you in, and you’re about to pay the price for your confession as your lips touch.

tangerine and aquamarine lights flash under your eyes from the bar, and you think you’re in heaven. almost every single girl in tulsa has kissed dallas, but this is different. he feels different. you’re not just his pretty skirt for the night. you’re his best friend turned crush turned his hopeful lover. he wants you so badly. you two are drunk in love. you’re addicting to him. he’ll never forget this moment. you’re all dressed up, people are looking at you two, and it’s oh so worth it. you’re lovesick and whipped for each other on this couch.

“ if i’m gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love. “

[shinestarhwaa]

EXILE || SONG MINGI

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Song Mingi x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Tags/Warnings: Lovers to exes, break up, ex!mingi, featured hongjoong&yunho, inspired by taylor swift's song exile, just some vague angst without giving the true plot away

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @wh0re4yunsangho @vesvosmozhno

ENJOY!

You knew he was looking at you from across the room, and it made your body tense up. His eyes seemed to scan you up and down, looking at the way you styled your hair and the way your all-black outfit complimented your figure just right. You bit your lip and brought your attention back to Hongjoong, who you were just talking to.

See, you and Hongjoong always had a vibe going on but you never thought anything of it, especially because you were with Mingi at the time. Now it's been months since you even spoke to Mingi and the conversation with Hongjoong just seemed to flow. He was a nice guy, a cool and stylish guy, you knew that, but the way Mingi looked at you made your heart beat, while you know you shouldn't let it.

Mingi and you had been together for almost two years, but everything about your communication was bad. In fact, it was pretty much non-existent. You didn't talk anymore. All you did was eat together and then you'd end up in bed together, doing what the two of you did best. But after that? Radiosilence.

You weren't entirely sure what happened between the two of you. You weren't sure what suddenly changed. Maybe it was the fact that everything changed; from changes of jobs and educations to changes of homes and friendships. Or maybe your personality changed too much, or his? You shook your head, there is no reason in trying to define it now. It was over anyway, wasn't it? You couldn't even be near him, so being in this same room as him was suffocating you.

Hongjoong seemed to notice and he offered to go outside with you, but you excused yourself and left the party happening in the living room. You stepped into the hallway and sighed, taking a few deep breaths. Being near Mingi was harder than you expected, and it brought tears to your eyes.

He has no reason to look this beautiful. Fuck, he's beautiful. But there's no possibility of ever fixing this, everything was messed up by you and by him and now you were in exile. You didn't go near him. You never spoke of him. Never even looked him up.

But now the energy in the room tried to pull the two of you together again. You're trying to resist it, detesting the feeling as it brings tears to your eyes. The words you've spoken have done damage to both your hearts and there was no way that the cracked pieces would ever heal once again.

When you peeked into the living room again you saw him talking to a girl you've only seen in the gym a few times before, not even realizing she was friends with Yunho. You hate the way he's looking at her and you know he's doing it either out of spite, to make you jealous or to distract himself from the agony and heartbreak he's feeling. And you are sure as hell feeling it.

You go back and talk to Hongjoong again, who seems a little worried about you, but accepts the situation. Throughout the night you and Mingi gravitate closer to one another anyway and then your eyes lock and you notice the glassy sparkle. The pain and the love the both of you shared hasn't sunk in yet, it's right at the surface.

"Hey Y/N," he spoke in a calm voice. Instantly you felt your heartbeat pick up, and you weren't sure if it was anxiety or the feeling of old love. Fuck, why couldn't you just get over him?

"Hi Mingi," you said, flashing a smile as you poured some wine into your glass. "Still drinking the classic chardonnay I see." You tried not to sigh before taking a sip. You nodded and brushed your hair back. "Yeah, ofcourse." Of course you are still drinking the same. You were very clear when you told him you weren't gonna change for him months ago.

Mingi nodded, feeling the ice in your eyes pierce through him. "It's good to see you around," he said. "Is it?"

Your voice was stern and your eyes stared into his intently. It wasn't a question but it was reproach. At the end of the relationship he spat the words 'never wanna see you again' quite easily so this came as a surprise. A painful one at that.

Mingi swallowed thickly and took a breath. "Can't we at least be civil? You don't have to speak in such tone, Y/N." "I'll speak however I want to speak, Mingi, you don't make the rules for me. Goodnight."

Not being able to take being around him any longer you said your goodbyes to Hongjoong and Yunho, quickly leaving the party. When you stepped outside Mingi followed you and took your arm.

"Mingi, please let go of me, I wanna go home, I don't wanna be around you."

"Y/N, Please," he sighed. "No. I'm not your problem anymore now, why aren't you glad I'm gone out of your life? Let me leave and live in peace. Without you. Go back." "But you never heard me out, Y/N, give me some time to tell you about all the things that have been running through my mind. I never wanted to hurt you, it was never supposed to even go this far.''

"You never heard me out and you ignored every sign I gave you. So go, cry alone at home about how you miss me. But I'm so done. I'm not doing this anymore. Accept that this is all over, Mingi."

You walked away and left Mingi standing alone in the middle of the street. ''Have you ever cared at all?'' he screamed, pain straining his voice. ''It was always a fucking losing game with you, wasn't it? You never gave your all, well I fucking gave my all, Y/N, I gave all and only for you to throw it out the fucking door. Well FUCK YOU!''

Your heart ached as you walked away with tears streaming down your cheeks, ignoring his calls, screams and pleads. But it was better like this. You didn't work it out, and you both had to accept that. On some point you were sure you must be soulmates, but everything about it disappeared, the feeling has vanished.

Not seeing him anymore hurt you but that's just how it works. It's for the best to just leave, it's something you're good at. He always made that very clear.

I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defending now? You were my town Now I'm in exile, seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leavin' out the side door

[taeyongdoyoung]

summary: a vampire and a werewolf want to put an end to the war between their families. in their dangerous attempt to achieve peace, they find love where they least expected... pairing: werewolf!mingyu x vampire!wonwoo x witch!reader genre: adventure, fantasy, a lil romance warnings: mentions of blood, burns, cutting, death, killing, suicide & other supernatural themes author's note: the title is inspired by taylor swift's bad blood, while the plot is vaguely influenced by romeo & juliet with the lore loosely based on twilight & the vampire diaries; some song references in italics hehe word count: 6.2k

Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Seoul, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where bad blood makes good hands unclean.

The werewolf Kim clan and the vampire Jeon clan had been enemies for as long as Mingyu could remember. He didn't recall a time when the two families didn't fight over something. There was an unwritten rule that the werewolves shouldn't go into the vampires' territory and vice versa. And for the most part, the agreement was followed. But occasionally, there were casualties. Occasionally, Mingyu lost a distant cousin or an uncle to the feud between the Kims and the Jeons. He was so tired of it. He wanted peace so desperately. Little did he know, he was not the only one who felt this strange longing.

Wonwoo was exhausted of this war going on between his family and the Kim one. He no longer wanted to participate in the pointless fights. He no longer wished to see another vampire fallen victim to the vicious werewolves. He had no idea how it had all started so it seemed completely devoid of meaning to him. Wonwoo wished he could find a way to put an end to it. Once and for all. And just then, as if some magic force had heard his plea, a piece of paper fell into his hand. From the sky. Right there on a balcony in summer air. He was stunned but nevertheless, he read the words written on it, which said:

What you seek you shall receive Go to the golden mountain If you wish your heart to grow Be prepared a sacrifice to give Drink from the magical fountain May all bad blood cease to flow

At the same time but in a different place, a twin paper landed in Mingyu's tent. It was cryptic as hell and it might as well have been a trap. It might be something that the Jeons, those smartasses came up with to cause more damage to the Kims. And yet, he was in such need for peace that he wanted to try whatever it took to find a solution that would ensure a tranquil future for him and his family. He put a couple of snacks in a bag, a few bottles of water and went out into the night.

Wonwoo did a similar thing, gathered a bunch of essentials, only he was caught by his younger brother and sister.

"Where are you going, hyung?" Jungkook asked.

"Yeah, you're acting suspicious!" Somi exclaimed.

"I'm going on an adventure," Wonwoo said simply.

"Take us with you, oppa!" Somi pleaded.

"I have to do this alone. It's too dangerous," Wonwoo was firm in his decision.

"Promise you'll come back!" Jungkook insisted.

Wonwoo knew he shouldn't make promises he wasn't sure he could keep. But he owed it to his precious siblings to reassure them that everything will be okay.

"Promise," he said and walked out of the door.

A couple of hours later, Mingyu found himself in the golden mountain. He could immediately sense something was wrong. It smelled like…death and decay. He sniffed aggressively into the air and seconds later he found himself pressed against a tree. By a stinky vampire!

"What are you doing here, Kim?" Wonwoo asked him.

"I could ask you the same thing, Jeon!" Mingyu growled. He tried to transform himself into his werewolf form and yet there must have been some sort of magic inside the golden mountain that prevented him from doing so. His suspicions were proven to be correct when he managed to escape from the vampire's grasp. Aha! He was slower than usual. Which meant he couldn't use his vampire speed around here.

"How…" Wonwoo was shocked by how quickly the werewolf had fled. "Why are you running?"

"Because you wanna drink my blood!" Mingyu screamed as he kept going.

"No, wait…I just wanna talk!"

"Yeah, right, and fish can fly!"

"Some can actually!" Wonwoo pointed out.

"Nerd!" Mingyu cried out and then he saw a big light in the air that said the exact same words in the paper! What even?! Something compelled him to stop running and moments later, Wonwoo hit his nose into the back of Mingyu's neck.

"Ow," he complained, taken aback by the fact that Mingyu was no longer trying to escape. "No way!" he had a similar reaction to Mingyu's upon seeing the mysterious words.

"Wait a second…" Mingyu started connecting the dots. "Don't tell me you received one of those as well."

He was probably taking a huge leap of faith but something was telling him that if the vampire wanted him dead, he would be dead already. Mingyu took out the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and showed it to Wonwoo.

Wonwoo's eyes widened in shock and he pulled out an identical-looking paper from his own clothes.

"What are the odds?" Wonwoo laughed bitterly.

"So…if we both want peace between our families, then I suppose we should work together," Mingyu offered sweetly.

"We might not have another choice," Wonwoo nodded reluctantly. "I'm Wonwoo, by the way."

"Mingyu. I would say nice to meet you but I'm not fond of lying," he tried to joke.

Wonwoo shook his head, amused by this encounter.

Seconds later, the sign in the air disappeared. In its stead was a golden door. Seemingly leading nowhere. Right in the middle of the mountain. How strange.

"Shall we?" Wonwoo suggested.

"Vampires first," Mingyu gallantly waved his hand.

Wonwoo didn't want to waste energy in arguing and opened the door. Mingyu followed him and the two were immediately greeted by the most beautiful creature they'd ever seen.

"Welcome!" you said. "If you've come this far, it means you've already taken the first step towards peace."

"Who are you?" Wonwoo asked.

"My name is Y/N. I'm a witch and it is my purpose to guide you through the seven challenges you must face if you wish to bring peace to your families."

"What kinds of challenges?" Mingyu inquired, suspicious of this whole situation.

"Well, it wouldn't be fun if I told you now, would it?" you chuckled mysteriously.

"How do we know we just won't get killed or something?" Wonwoo insisted.

"You don't. Guess you'll just have to believe that the possibility for a better future is strong enough to get you through these challenges," you explained patiently.

"Did you come up with these challenges?" Wonwoo wanted to know.

"So many questions," you laughed once again. "No, my ancestors did, I'm just a carrier of their will. Here's what I'll tell you. If you work together, you have a very good chance at succeeding."

"Not very reassuring," Mingyu complained.

"Still better than no chance," Wonwoo sighed.

"And if you complete the first six challenges successfully," you continued. "I will help you with the seventh one."

"I'm assuming the seventh one is the hardest," Wonwoo muttered.

"Clever boy," you smirked. "Are you ready?"

"Not really," Mingyu shrugged. "But let's do this."

"Well, good luck, guys. I'll give you a hint for the first challenge. If I eat I live yet if I drink I die. What am I?"

"Huh?" Mingyu looked at Wonwoo in a confused manner. "Any idea what this means?"

"No, but I don't like the sound of it."

You disappeared and in front of the two men, a wall of fire appeared. Great, so the hint was fire.

"So we just have to jump above it. It's not very tall," Mingyu observed.

"No, Mingyu, you don't get it," Wonwoo responded. "I will literally turn into ash if the fire touches me. I'm a vampire, remember?"

"Right," Mingyu nodded. "Well, then, hop on my back and I'll jump. I'm tall enough and I'll make sure the fire doesn't touch you."

Wonwoo shook his head hesitantly.

"I don't know…"

"Do you trust me?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Smart answer," Mingyu grinned. "But do you want peace or not?"

"More than anything," Wonwoo replied.

"Then, hop on."

Wonwoo did as Mingyu suggested and closed his eyes. In no time, the werewolf jumped and the fire was behind the two. Wonwoo opened his eyes and got off Mingyu's strong back. You had returned.

"Congratulations, you have completed the first challenge!" you greeted them cheerfully. "Keep up the good work and peace shall be yours soon."

"Well, that was easy enough," Mingyu smiled confidently.

"Easy for you to say," Wonwoo shuddered at the thought of fire.

"Do you guys want a hint for the second challenge?"

"Yes, please," Mingyu asked, guessing that since the first one was something dangerous for Wonwoo, then the second one would, logically, be something lethal for Mingyu.

"This is a type of color But it’s not yellow or blue You’ll need this type of bullet If a werewolf’s after you," you recited dutifully.

The answer was glaringly obvious. Silver.

"No," Mingyu groaned in fear as you vanished once again. The two somehow ended up in a room. There was only one way out and forward - a door at the end of the room. And in front of the door was a machine designed to shoot silver arrows. How fun. "What are we going to do?"

"Let me think," Wonwoo tried to analyze the situation in a way that would ensure Mingyu's safety. "If I run on zig-zag with you glued behind me, we might be fast enough to go behind the machine and open the door."

"But the arrows could shoot you?" Mingyu gasped in horror.

"I think they won't. The first challenge was designed to scare me and the second challenge is designed for you."

"It's very risky."

"Well, we can't let that stop us."

"Let's do this."

The two began running and surprisingly, the machine started shooting arrows their way. However, it was only capable of doing so in a straight direction, so it didn't manage to hit them once. With some great luck, Wonwoo and Mingyu squeezed themselves behind the machine. Yet, Mingyu was too impatient to grab the door handle, which, was, of course, made of silver. It burned his hand pretty badly but it wasn't lethal like arrows or even worse, bullets, would have been. Wonwoo immediately opened the door and pulled Mingyu with him to the other side.

"Are you okay?" Wonwoo asked, overwhelmed by a sudden concern for his werewolf companion.

"It hurts but I'll be fine," Mingyu tried to convince himself as well as Wonwoo.

Wonwoo quickly bit his own finger until a small streak of blood appeared.

"Drink this, it will help you heal faster."

Mingyu looked at Wonwoo doubtfully but went ahead. In no time, the burns disappeared and his hand no longer hurt.

"Wow, thanks a lot!"

"Thank me when we've completed all challenges," Wonwoo puts his hand on Mingyu's shoulder in a friendly manner.

You once again surprised them with your sudden arrival.

"Two in a row! You're really something else," you cheered them on loudly. "I was about to offer some healing herbs but the vampire beat me to it."

Wonwoo bowed dramatically, making Mingyu and you laugh.

"I won't ask whether you need a hint, because I'm feeling generous. I’m often running, yet I have no legs. You need me, but I don’t need you. What am I?"

"Ugh, another riddle," Mingyu was so done with them.

In front of the two men appeared a table. On the table, there were two cups filled with some kind of liquid. Next to the cups was a note:

"One may kill a vampire. Another may kill a werewolf. Drink all to move forward. Drink none to stay behind."

"I'm guessing one has vervain and the other wolfsbane. We drink the wrong cup, we both die. We drink the right one, we go to the next challenge," Mingyu started thinking out loud.

"What if I drink both cups?" Wonwoo suggested boldly. "That way I can ensure that you will move forward."

"Are you crazy?" Mingyu exclaimed. "First of all, there is no guarantee the witch will allow me to do the rest of the challenges by myself. Second of all, there is no guarantee I will succeed without you. Third of all…I don't wanna do this alone."

Mingyu sounded so vulnerable and like a lost puppy in that moment that Wonwoo felt so bad he cursed himself for offering something so dark in the first place.

"You're right, sorry I mentioned it. Do you have any better ideas?"

"Let's think about the riddle instead of rushing to poison ourselves," Mingyu replied. "I'm often running, yet I have no legs. You need me, but I don't need you…"

"But of course!" Wonwoo shouted triumphantly. "Water! It's just a trick, Mingyu. There is nothing but water in both cups!"

Mingyu eyed the two cups suspiciously.

"They don't smell like anything," he pointed out.

"Do you trust me?" Wonwoo repeated Mingyu's question from earlier.

"Not even a little bit," Mingyu teased. Even though a part of him was beginning to…

"Great. Drink up."

"Oh, what the hell." Mingyu and Wonwoo both grabbed a cup at random and downed them in one go. Nothing. No burn. No pain. No death. Just plain old water.

They both let out a sigh of relief and started laughing.

"We did it! We passed the third challenge!" they grabbed each other's hands happily and started jumping in circles.

You appeared yet again to congratulate them.

"You two are so smart, I'm genuinely impressed!"

Wonwoo and Mingyu let go of one another's hands, as if embarrassed that the witch witnessed a vampire and a werewolf behaving like this.

"How about a little break?" you offered.

"Not another challenge?

"Nope. Just a small something to reward you for getting so far."

Mingyu and Wonwoo exchanged a look.

"How do you plan to reward us?" Wonwoo raised an eyebrow.

"What would you like?" you smiled mischievously.

"Something more useful than those riddles," Mingyu asked.

"Okay, okay, no more riddles. Wonwoo?"

"Help us in the sixth challenge, as well. Not just the seventh one."

"Ambitious. I like that. Alright, then. Make sure you pass the fourth and fifth and I will give you a real advantage in the grand finale. Now, how about a snack to gather your strength?" you said and handed Mingyu a couple of big, juicy hamburgers. The werewolf gulped the first one hungrily.

"I'm a vampire, this is like plastic to me," Wonwoo complained.

"I know, silly," you chuckled and offered your wrist. "Come on, help yourself."

"How do I know it's not a trick?"

"Why would it be a trick?" you blinked at him innocently. "Mingyu already ate his burger and he's still safe."

"It's just a burger. I don't think the blood of a witch has the same value."

"Aw, I'm touched," you cooed. "Fine, suit yourself, then. Starve if you want."

Wonwoo shook his head, determined to reject the temptation.

"I'm not hungry."

Your smile suddenly transformed into a quite sinister one.

"Good. You just passed the fourth challenge."

"W-what?" Mingyu, who'd just swallowed the last bite of the third burger, asked in shock. "But…we didn't do anything, did we?"

"Wonwoo did," you explained. "The virtue of restraint is incredibly rare among vampires nowadays. Him rejecting my blood so easily shows that he is truly determined to achieve peace."

"But…me eating the burgers is okay, right?" Mingyu kept worrying.

"It's okay, Mingyu, don't worry," you laughed. "Still, previous participants never made it this far."

"Wait…we're not the first ones?" Wonwoo was shocked. "Others from our clans have tried these challenges before?"

"Of course. They all failed, though. These challenges are held once every seven years. Since…since the feud between your two families began."

"But…why?" Mingyu asked.

"I'll tell you if you make it to the end."

"Is the fifth challenge a hidden one like the fourth? I mean…you said we were having a short break, I didn't even know it was a test," Wonwoo complained.

"You asked for no more riddles. You didn't say anything about tricks," you pouted, the picture of blamelessness.

"Witches, man," Mingyu murmured, causing Wonwoo to smile. You didn't look offended by these words, considering the circumstances. Still, you were just doing your job, so you refused to feel bad for it. Besides, you genuinely believed that your actions would help them succeed. You wanted peace just as badly. For your own reasons.

Suddenly, the full moon shone brightly in the sky.

"Oh, come on," Mingyu groaned, as he felt overpowered by his transformation into his wolf form. It was more painful than usual and he experienced such intense anger towards everyone and everything. He wanted to ravage the vampire and the witch. Consequences be damned.

"Control it, Mingyu," Wonwoo tried to calm him down as he saw the werewolf approaching him and you like a predator stalking his prey. "It's just another trick. You have to show restraint, like I did. We're so close to success, don't give up now."

"You know what they say. A wolf can change his coat but not his character," you laughed maniacally.

"Stop goading him!" Wonwoo reprimanded you. "Mingyu. Remember why we're here. Remember what we both want. Peace."

It was like that one short magical word unlocked something inside the werewolf. His eyes that were full of rage seconds ago became full of warmth, kindness and hope. And in no time, Mingyu was back in his human form.

"Peace," he repeated, shivering, as the poor guy was naked after returning to his humanity.

You snapped your fingers and by magic, his clothes were back on him.

"Astonishing. I've never witnessed anything like this before," you were truly amazed by their willpower.

"I take it the fifth challenge was a success?" Mingyu wanted to make sure.

"Not only a success. It was your golden ticket to the grand finale," you beamed with excitement.

"So, what is the sixth challenge?" Wonwoo inquired.

"You'll have to fight each other. The winner gets to move forward to the seventh challenge."

"Excuse me?" Mingyu cried out indignantly. "We didn't go this far only to end up hurting one another, we're supposed to go through these challenges together!"

"You promised you'll help us!" Wonwoo was also flabbergasted by the turn of events.

"And I will, relax. I'll give you a hint. The challenge requires you to fight. That's all it says. Nothing about killing," you winked and once again disappeared.

"Damn, she's got to stop doing that," Mingyu complained. "So cryptic."

Wonwoo laughed quietly.

"I don't wanna wolf out on you," Mingyu confessed.

"And I don't wanna suck you dry," Wonwoo responded.

"So what now? How do we fight each other without harm? How do we decide on a winner to go to the final challenge?" Mingyu was panicking as he couldn't seem to find a solution.

"Look, there's the table from the cups of water challenge!" Wonwoo observed, surprised by its return.

"But of course!" Mingyu exclaimed. "We can arm wrestle. A fight without killing."

"You're a genius! Just don't break my arm, alright?" Wonwoo smiled.

"No promises," Mingyu teased and the two knelt on two sides of the table. Mingyu easily defeated Wonwoo and then they were confused that nothing was happening. No seventh challenge.

"Maybe we're both meant to win to move forward?" Wonwoo suggested. "Like you said, these challenges ought to be done together for true peace to be achieved."

"Oh! Right!" Mingyu took hold of Wonwoo's hand once again, not putting any strength into his grasp this time. "Go easy on me, night kitten."

"Right back at you, moon puppy," Wonwoo teased back and as Mingyu allowed himself to be defeated, a large sign lit up the sky, announcing the beginning of the seventh challenge.

"Grand finale, here we come," Mingyu declared in amazement that they'd gotten this far.

You greeted them as enthusiastically as ever:

"It truly is a wonder you made it to the seventh challenge, I can't believe the peace between your families is so close."

"It's too early to celebrate," Wonwoo, ever the realist, observed. "The final one is the hardest, no?"

"Yes, but I intend to keep my promise and give you a strong advantage. As it was hinted at in the piece of paper you received, you have to be prepared for a sacrifice. Only that will put an end to the bad blood between the Kims and the Jeons."

"What kind of sacrifice?" Mingyu asked, already anticipating the worst.

"A blood one," you stated grimly.

"You've got to be kidding me," Wonwoo rolled his eyes.

"We don't want to kill each other, I thought it was clear we came here looking for peace!" Mingyu cried out.

"I know you grew attached to one another throughout the course of these challenges," you nodded morosely. "However, the prophecy doesn't specify who has to be sacrificed. You…you can kill me, instead."

You gently placed two daggers in their hands.

Wonwoo and Mingyu were beyond appalled by your suggestion.

"But…you're just doing your job," Wonwoo murmured. "Why would we kill you when you helped us get this far?"

"Yeah, I'm with Wonwoo," Mingyu was adamant. "You didn't do anything wrong to us. There has to be another way."

"It's the only way," you announced, your eyes tearing up. "If you don't do this, you'll fail the seventh challenge and you'll be automatically turned into ash like all the previous participants were when they couldn't pass one of the challenges. Don't you want peace more than anything? I'm not important, just one life that could potentially save the lives of many vampires and werewolves. Is this not why you came here?"

Mingyu and Wonwoo looked at each other, weighing out the pros and cons. The witch's point was a solid one. But was it really worth it? They would have to endure the rest of their lives haunted by what they'd done…Was it really peace if it was marred with innocent blood?

"I'm not doing it," Wonwoo decided and dropped the dagger.

"Yeah, me neither," Mingyu agreed and let go of the weapon.

"Even if you die instead by the design of these challenges?" you were amazed by their willingness to sacrifice themselves, to abandon their cause just to save her - a witch they'd just met.

"Even so," Wonwoo confirmed his previous decision.

"How much time do we have?" Mingyu wanted to know.

"I don't know. Like I said, no one's ever gotten this far," you admitted.

"Can't we try something else? These challenges were full of loopholes and tricks and whatnot. Maybe another kind of sacrifice?" Wonwoo kept trying to think of a way out.

"I've got some snacks in my bag? And water?" Mingyu suggested.

"I'm pretty sure my ancestors would not be satisfied with snacks," you chuckled bitterly.

"Be prepared a sacrifice to give Drink from the magical fountain May all bad blood cease to flow…" Wonwoo repeated the last lines of the prophecy.

"We did drink from cups of water but there was no magical fountain so far," Mingyu mused out loud.

"That's true," you replied. "And there's the sacrifice and blood part…maybe I'm reading this all wrong."

"What do you mean?" Wonwoo was desperate to hold onto any piece of hope.

You grabbed one of the daggers from the ground.

"Give me your hands," you urged them.

"Erm…" Mingyu eyed you with suspicion.

"Quick, I'm not sure how much time we have left," your eyes were telling them that you genuinely wanted to help.

Wonwoo took a leap of faith and gave you his hand. You pressed the blade into his skin until blood started pouring out and soaked the earth beneath you. Mingyu figured he had nothing left to lose as he might be dead very soon and also offered his hand. You did the same thing with him. And finally, you cut your own skin. As the blood of a vampire, a werewolf and a witch started drenching the soil in the golden mountain, the three creatures witnessed something they hadn't expected. The blood started turning into water and soon enough a small fountain emerged in front of their eyes.

"The magical fountain!" Wonwoo exclaimed.

"Hurry, we have to drink from it!" you rushed them, the prophecy finally being fulfilled.

The three beings took turns taking sips of water and their bloodied hands were healed in no time.

"Does this mean we succeeded? We passed the seventh challenge and peace will reign between our families?" Mingyu was curious to know.

"I guess there's only one way to find out," you shrugged mysteriously. "Go back home and see for yourselves."

"You promised us something," Wonwoo reminded you. "You said you'd tell us why the feud began in the first place if we make it to the end. Here we are."

"Clever boy," you once again said the words from your very first encounter. "It's a long story, though. You sure you don't wanna check up on your families first?"

"Don't try to weasel your way out of this," Mingyu warned. "We want answers. We've spent long enough living in the dark."

"Nicely put," you laughed. "Very well, then. But first, let us sit down."

The three creatures sat in the grass and so, you began telling the story of how the Kims and the Jeons had started resenting each other.

"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful witch named Yunchae. She was not only as elegant as a flower but was also smart and kind and her whole family adored her. Tales of her beauty reached the vampire and werewolf families. Haneul the vampire and Kwang the werewolf fell madly in love with her. Yunchae, being so sweet, began spending time with both of them separately. She was unaware of dangers such as jealousy and genuinely considered both of them her lifelong companions. One thing led to another and friendship blossomed into love. One dark night, when there was a full moon, Kwang the werewolf wanted to surprise Yunchae so he came into her chambers earlier than the appointed hour. When he saw her embracing Haneul the vampire, Kwang, affected by the curse of the moon, was overwhelmed with wild rage and possessiveness. In his anger, he ended up tearing Haneul apart. The vampire had been caught unprepared and could not defend himself. Yunchae, in her grief, stabbed herself to death. Kwang, upon seeing his beloved lying cold and shaken by the consequences of his actions, could not accept the reality and threw himself off the tower where Yunchae lived. Upon hearing about the tragic turn of events, Haneul's family and Kwang's family began blaming each other. Yunchae's family was so distraught by the loss of their precious flower that they cursed the Jeons and the Kims to be in constant war unless representatives of the two families desired peace so strongly they were ready to risk their own lives. And here we are."

Wonwoo and Mingyu were silent for a while, trying to think of what to say. The story was so tragic but Mingyu wanted to lighten the mood.

"They were so stupid. Why couldn't they just have a threesome and call it a day?"

"Mingyu!" Wonwoo scolded the werewolf for his slightly inappropriate joke.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling awkward.

"Anyhow, this is all in the past. The curse should be lifted by now. I wish you all a peaceful life."

And with that, you vanished into thin air.

"Seriously, when will she stop doing that?" Mingyu groaned.

"She just did. Do you think we'll see her again?" Wonwoo was doubtful but had to voice his concerns.

"Who knows? Maybe we were all meant to find each other."

Mingyu and Wonwoo returned to their homes and they were relieved to find how things have changed. As if by magic. The werewolf Taehyung was freely chatting with the vampire Jungkook. The vampire Somi was holding hands with the werewolf Dahyun. Peace truly reigned between the Kims and the Jeons. Whenever Wonwoo or Mingyu brought up the issue of the past, everyone reacted with surprise. As if there was never any feud. It turned out only the two winners of the seven challenges and the witch who'd helped them get this far remembered the truth about the history of the three families.

Time passed and Mingyu found himself wanting to see you and Wonwoo again. Though dangerous, that one night he spent in the golden mountain was the most magical memory he had and he couldn't stop replaying it in his head. He wondered if Wonwoo felt the same way. Now that peace was established between the Kims and the Jeons, Mingyu could easily go to the castle where Wonwoo lived and ask him to hang out and maybe accompany him to the golden mountain in the hopes that they would find you somehow. Since the challenges were over, he had no idea whether you would still be there or whether you lived somewhere else, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"Hey! Psst!" Mingyu started throwing little rocks at Wonwoo's window in the middle of the night. He could smell him from a mile away.

"What the heck, Mingyu?" Wonwoo exclaimed in surprise as he came out on the balcony. "It's 1am!"

"I thought vampires didn't sleep!" Mingyu pointed out.

"We don't but I lost a very important game because of you," Wonwoo complained.

"Oh, boo-hoo. What I came here for is much more important," Mingyu insisted.

"What is it? Don't tell me there are problems between our families again…" Wonwoo whispered, worried that something bad had happened.

"What? No, everything is fine. I just wanted to see you…" Mingyu confessed nervously. "And ask if you wanted to find Y/N again. Go on another adventure in the golden mountain."

"Huh? But why? We passed all the challenges. Why would we go back there?"

"Because…I can't stop thinking about that one night. If it's just me, I'll leave you alone and go by myself. But if a part of you, even a small one, feels the same…then, please, come with me, night kitten," Mingyu begged, his eyes wide and moist with unshed tears.

Wonwoo didn't want to admit it but he knew exactly what Mingyu was talking about. His no longer beating heart was warm all of a sudden and he couldn't bear the thought of rejecting Mingyu's tempting offer. Still, he tried to play it cool.

"Whatever, moon puppy. Wait for me down there," Wonwoo said and hurried out.

When he faced the werewolf outside, Mingyu attacked him with a tight hug.

"I knew it, I knew it!" Mingyu squealed happily. "I knew you'd come! We're gonna have so much fun!"

"Gee, alright, relax," Wonwoo muttered but deep down, he was overjoyed to receive so much affection from his…what were they? Once enemies but during the challenges, they had become allies, something like companions. But now that there was peace, what label could he put on their strange…was it friendship? Before he could come up with an answer, Mingyu grabbed his hand and led the way towards the golden mountain. Wonwoo couldn't bring himself to push him away. He wondered why…

As they arrived at their destination, they started calling your name but to no avail. With the challenges over, it was logical to assume that you went somewhere else. They should have asked you where witches lived before you'd vanished in that typical but super frustrating way of yours.

"What do we do?" Mingyu asked. "Should we summon her somehow?"

"She's not a demon," Wonwoo chuckled. "Do you know any other witches?"

"Nope. You?"

"No. How can we possibly find her?" Wonwoo sat down and touched the ground with his hand. Mingyu mirrored his movements. And as if the earth beneath them recognized them, flowers started growing and glowing in the dark!

"Wow!" Mingyu was in a state of disbelief.

"Incredible," Wonwoo stated and as the picture before them transformed into an image out of their wildest dreams, they finally heard a familiar voice.

"Looking for me, fellas?" you asked.

"Y/N!" Mingyu grinned happily and rushed into your arms. Wonwoo was more reserved…for now.

"Hello there, big puppy," you laughed affectionately. "What brings you here? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise."

"No, actually, we just wanted to see you," Mingyu admitted.

"Why didn't you show up rightaway when we called your name?" Wonwoo inquired bitterly.

"Hello to you, too, Wonwoo," you shook your head, scolding his manners. "How have you been? Very well, thank you. And you?"

"Hi," Wonwoo corrected himself curtly. "Now tell me."

"I couldn't hear you, so to speak. However, most witches are linked to the earth and your touch sent a signal to me. Does that answer your question?"

Wonwoo nodded but didn't press the matter further.

"Where do you live? How can we find you more easily next time? What do you do now that the challenges are over?" Mingyu started bombarding you with more questions.

"Whoa, there, relax, Gyu. Let's just say I know a place that can give you answers."

"Lead the way!" Mingyu replied enthusiastically as you took hold of his hand.

Wonwoo stood there for a couple of moments, thinking.

"You coming?" you wanted to find out.

Wonwoo followed you wordlessly. Something was off about him and you intended to find out what pretty soon.

You showed them where you lived - in a small cottage near a beautiful lake. You told them that they could come visit whenever they felt like it and Mingyu offered that you also come to the werewolves' camp sometime. Now that the challenges were completed, you spent your days creating spells and gathering herbs. It was peaceful and you couldn't ask for more. Or so you thought. As the three of you explored the golden mountain, you felt closer to the werewolf and the vampire than during the challenges and enjoyed the time spent together more than anything. You could tell that Mingyu felt the same way as he was very cuddly and clingy. Wonwoo, however, was more difficult to read. As morning was nearing and you were all exhausted from your late-night adventures, the three of you ended up sitting in the grass. You and Mingyu ate some sandwiches, while poor Wonwoo starved. You offered him your blood (no tricks this time), but he refused. In your defense, he said he wasn't hungry. Mingyu fell asleep with his head in your lap, so you took this opportunity to ask Wonwoo what was up with him.

"Why are you so cold?" you confronted him directly.

"I'm a vampire?" Wonwoo reminded you needlessly.

"Not literally, you dumbass. During the challenges, you were different. What changed?"

"I know the whole truth now."

"What are you referring to?"

"I'm scared, okay?" Wonwoo admitted. "What if…history repeats itself? What if both Mingyu and I fall in love with you and we all end up hurting each other? What if this peace we fought so hard for is fragile and gets destroyed quickly?"

"It won't, I promised you," you reached out and held Wonwoo's hand gently.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because…we're here now and we're happier than ever. And besides, if we fall in love, we can do like Mingyu suggested our ancestors should have done," you joked.

"Ha-ha, very funny," Wonwoo rolles his eyes.

"I'm serious, though. Would you kill Mingyu if he fell for me?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, he's my...friend," Wonwoo confessed, surprising himself.

"Do you think Mingyu would kill you if you…if you felt the same?" you kept up with the hypothetical questions, even though it all seemed very real.

"He managed to control himself pretty well during the full moon challenge, so, no, I don't think he would."

"Would I kill you? If you two fell in love with each other?" you teased.

"I don't know. Would you?"

"Of course not, my sweet vampire friend," you chuckled.

"Good. Then, I guess my fears were unjustified," Wonwoo felt more at ease.

"Yay! So, threesome?" Mingyu suddenly joined the conversation.

"Mingyu!" you exclaimed.

"Hey! I thought you were sleeping!" Wonwoo was taken aback.

"I was, but I kept having dreams about you two. Must have been because you were talking about me, weren't you?"

"Are we so transparent?" you groaned.

"Nah, it's just that I'm irresistible. Witches and vampires alike can't stop thinking about my puppy charms," Mingyu kept talking.

You leaned down to kiss him to shut him up. Then, you reached out to Wonwoo and gave him a kiss, as well. The werewolf, no longer in the mood to sleep, also embraced the vampire and touched his lips with his own.

"The sun will rise soon," Wonwoo observed sadly. "I have to go unless I want to turn into ash."

"The rules don't apply in the golden mountain. You're safe here," you explained. "You can stay as long you wish and leave when it's dark."

"How about the moon?" Mingyu was curious. "Why did it affect me if the rules don't apply?"

"It was just an illusion designed by my ancestors as part of the challenges. If you were here in the golden mountain during a full moon, you wouldn't have to transform anymore."

"Pretty convenient way to get us to stay, don't you think?" Wonwoo eyed you suspiciously.

"Mm, but don't take advantage of my hospitality. I'm totally coming over to check out your castle next time!"

"How did you know I live in a castle?!" Wonwoo was shocked.

"A witch never kisses and tells," you winked and disappeared.

"Man, not again!" Mingyu complained loudly.

"Just kidding," you came back and rushed into their arms.

The End

[itsgrimeytime]

Magnolia in May (Part Thirty One) || Rick Grimes (TWD) x Greene!f!reader Regency AU

Parts 1-20, 21-30...

Taglist: @loliakeoghan23 @curlycarley @queenie32 @mgparker @misatmosfear

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker

AVAILABLE ON AO3

Inspiration (in honor of Speak Now Taylor's Version): Enchanted by Taylor Swift.

Summary: Your town was small, not the smallest you knew, but anyone of high fortune was the gossip of the week. Predictably, Richard Grimes was a thing of whispers -rumors of a search for marriage among the grassy hills. You weren't one to buy into town gossip, but something about him... just seemed a little too intriguing.

TW: none.

[[A/N: girl why is he so pretty in this gif. HELLOOOOO. Aldo, hi, I couldn't leave this on a cliffhanger, so I'm avoiding hw but I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading !!! ]]

"Headmistress," you echoed out, your own nerves biting at your tongue, "-please stop pacing, it's not helping anything at all."

"My nerves are frazzled, dear," she explained, as if you couldn't tell, "-this walking is the only thing keeping me sane at the moment."

"Well, it is decidedly not helping my nerves," you frowned, voice tight, "-So, please, sit down."

Headmistress stuttered in her step, brown eyes matching yours, and suddenly a flood of guilt smoothed over her features. Sinking her shoulders and lowering her eyebrows into pity, she stood rather in awe of you for a moment.

"Oh, my, darling," she cooed, cupping your face in her hands, "-you must truly be so worried, please. Have a seat, dear."

She was, of course, referring to the urgent news that Mr. Grimes had fled to Atlanta for, just a few days ago. He couldn't say much on the matter, but he had visited briefly before leaving -speaking to you and Father about it. As you said, he didn't say much just the urgency and his return being as soon as possible.

It would have worried you normally, but now it did exceptionally so. For your wedding was only in a week's time, if that.

And it was a total possibility, that because of his vagueness, he may not even attend his own wedding. That you may not be married, and the plans go down the drain and you would be left stood at the altar by yourself-

"Hershel, dear," Headmistress called, fanning at your face, "-fetch her some water, yes? I believe she is close to fainting."

She without a breath, guided you to a chair -the comfortable one with the expensive cushions, and stood by your side. Her hand brushed across your forehead, feeling for any warmth you guessed.

"Beth," your sister stood as quickly as she could, "-get me a cool rag for your sister as well, please. And Maggie, please come to her other side, yes?"

Before she could speak another word, both sisters scurried to their duties -Maggie, resting her hands along your arm as she crouched by your side.

She spoke quietly, just for you to hear, "He wouldn't miss marrying you for the world. I know it."

Headmistress, however, had keen hearing, "That man loves you so much, I'm certain if you asked it, he'd pull the moon right out of the sky. There is no chance any news keeps him from coming, my darling."

"Yes," you sighed -trying to calm your shaky hands, "-Yes, I know that. But what if the urgent news is bigger than our... our wedding? What if it's something with the children-"

"No need to worry, my dear," Father approached, handing you water with the gentlest sort of grace, "-Mr. Grimes isn't to be deterred. If his wish is to marry you, marry you he shall."

"And," Beth spoke, soft, as she handed Headmistress the rag -which she soothed across your forehead, "-he wouldn't want you to worry, you know that."

Headmistress added, "I imagine it aches him so. All the more reason to hurry back, you know."

"Yes," you exhaled, "-I know."

The next few days passed quickly, the Headmistress tending to your every need. You were initially comforted by such a thing, but as did everything, it soon became rather degrading. She even made you bedridden for a few hours, saying anything wedding-wise would be put off until you were settled.

You couldn't imagine being "settled" until Mr. Grimes was in Alexandria again.

Luckily enough, you'd weaseled out of her grip enough to take a trip to the Grimes estate. Not that it was a personal visit, you had many plans to attend to -even this close to the wedding. It was mostly tying up loose strings, however, and wasn't much to stress upon. Your stress was elsewhere it seemed.

Maggie, wordlessly, had joined your side as you slipped out of the house -barely getting her shoes on before you were out the door.

You were now on the walk over, birds chirping and the sun shining much too bright -your bonnet, gratefully, hid it from your eyes. The dirt roads were soft under your feet and one hand reached out to drift upon the long grass to its right.

"Can you believe it?" Maggie hummed out, breaking the comfortable silence, "-You are to be married. Tied to a man for life, what would your younger self think?"

"I think you confuse me with yourself, sister," you remarked, remembering your stubborn sister who stuck her nose up at any boy who talked to her at school, "-marriage has always been in my future. I am the eldest, after all."

Maggie frowned for a moment, thinking, "Even if you... hadn't fallen in love, you still believe you'd be married?"

"Eventually," you hummed, voice a little tight at the prospect, "-I... Families get desperate, and I cannot... I will not leave my family in need."

"What if it wasn't happy?"

"None of this matters," you deflected, "-I'm in love and will be very happy with this union, so-"

"No, I-" Maggie interrupted, "-you would stay unhappily married to keep our family safe?"

"Of course, I would," you turned to her with a deep sigh, rubbing your hands along her arms, "-I would stay unhappily married for you to have the option to marry happily. You and Beth. It's a burden, that I had... chosen to bear."

"You need not to," she responded, a little desolately, "-I'm sure Father would have-"

"Look," you started, swallowing back a few words, "-it's not an issue anymore, Maggie, there's no need to be worried."

"I just wish you'd value yourself," she echoed, green eyes meeting yours, "-you do know that you are far above Mr. Grimes, don't you?"

"I wouldn't say that," you laughed out, "-Mr. Grimes is-"

"No, no," Maggie interrupted again, tone authoritative, "-you are the sun, dear sister. He is just a mere planet."

"Maggie-"

"You must know that," she continued, grabbing your hands in hers, "-you are not some... some second best prize compared to Beth and I."

"Mr. Grimes knows that," you answered softly.

"I'm just not sure that you do," she corrected, still holding your hands, "-and to not know your worth is worrying. You deserve the best, beyond what money can buy."

You smiled, eyes foggy -letting out a little laugh (you were getting married to the man you loved), whispering, "I have it."

Maggie smiled, a blinding one, before scooping you into her arms. And if you squeezed a bit tighter than normal, no one would have to know but the two of you.

The rest of the walk was pleasant. There was a gentle sort of breeze that smoothed across your skin and kept the heat from being too overwhelming. And even though the sun was a bit hot, it gave your skin a nice sort of flush, offset by the timid wind. You were very grateful for such a walk, the house was getting too confined -it felt like you could breathe again.

That being said, it was early morning, so you supposed the heat would only rise and you were glad to finally reach your destination. The expansive land always took your breath away each time you ventured upon it, and you could very hardly believe that it would be yours soon enough.

All these plants and fountains and wondrous garden, it would all be yours. You would be married to Mr. Grimes.

Something in your heart dazzled at the thought.

Before you could even knock, the door was opened for you and Mr. Dixon was immediately at your side -posture straight and professional. It was odd to get such a reaction out of people, but you supposed being the soon mistress of the home, it was all out of respect.

"Ms. Greene, and Ms. Greene," he bowed neatly, speaking to the both of you, "-the meeting room is still in the same state ya left it Tuesday if ya are inclined to use it again."

"Thank you," you smiled, curtsying back -Maggie following in your stead, "-and the children?"

You knew them to be home, Mr. Grimes had actually requested you visit them both out of worry and affection. ("I ask you to tend to them in my absence, I trust you to care for them properly if the need arises.") Promising you would, you intended to keep that promise and check on them -even if you were to do some planning in the wake of the trip.

Mr. Dixon seemed to frown for a moment, before smoothing his mouth back into a straight line, "Carl is visiting the Mettles near town, he has a friend in the household, and Judith remains here."

You furrowed your eyebrows, concern bubbling into your chest, "Is she alright?"

"She is well," he clarified, soothing your nerves slightly, "-I believe she just misses Mr. Grimes rather terribly."

You frowned for a moment, before turning to your sister -a thought forming in your mind, "Maggie, would you run to the meeting room and go down the list? I shall attend to you soon, but I-"

"Of course," she smiled, already making her way to the room (it was familiar trip at this point), "-go tend to her, I will make sure everything is in place upon your return."

"You're certain?"

"Yes," she laughed, stepping back toward you to take your hands, "-Judith is far more important than some loose ends, go."

You nodded, and with a glance, Mr. Dixon guided you down a hallway -the very same Carl's room remained in, you realized. Your eyes flickered to the artwork pinned upon his door and smiled (it was the work of Judith if you had to guess).

Messy but beautiful in that child sort of way, you wondered briefly if you could ask her for one.

Mr. Dixon stopped at a door with delicately painted flowers upon the white wood -definitely professional work. Your fingers absent-minded traced them for a moment before you turned back to him.

"Is she awake?"

He nodded soundly, "The children are up for breakfast every day earlier 'an now. Or 'ey are supposed to be, Mr. Grimes lets 'em break 'at rule often."

You smiled to yourself, sounds like him.

With a smile and the promise to fetch him if anything was needed, he disappeared down back into the hallway.

Turning back to the door, you took a deep breath in -you hadn't often had time alone with Judith, not since you first met her. You weren't afraid, per se, but nervous to do the right thing. To soothe.

You twisted the doorknob and crept quietly into the room -eyes skimming along the interior in one swoop.

It wasn't fancy exactly, but everything in her room was painted a combination of white and a dusty sort of pink. Toys laid neatly placed in the corner, untouched it seemed, and her bed unkempt as if the maid hadn't yet fixed it. Along the far wall was a small bookshelf, she could easily reach every book at the height they were, and it was quite full. Though only a few looked truly used -her favorites, you guessed. And further along, was her closet door -ever so slightly opened, with a mirror hung just beside it on the wall.

Judith herself was sat on a little rug by her bed -fingers drumming over her toys, as if she was thinking of which one to reach for. She, in corroboration of what Mr. Dixon said, remained in some pajamas with a head full of untamed curls rubbing away at her tired eyes; you fully doubted she'd been up much longer than an hour.

Whispering, you peeked your head in -not wanting to encroach on her space, "Judith?"

She spun to the noise, curls swishing in the twinkle of sunlight from her window. Her brown eyes nearly started shining as she looked at you, a cheeky little smile spread across her lips. Standing, she rushed to the door so fast you hardly had time to react.

"Woah," you laughed, as she tightly hugged the bottom of your dress -around your legs, "-hello, Ms. Judith."

She simply smiled up at you, and you saw she had a missing tooth. Mr. Grimes had said she spoke little, but was learning quite quickly and everything had that same sort of baby tone. You'd heard it just a little.

"'S Greene," she spoke slithering her 's' like a snake, and your heart bloomed in your chest.

"Ms. Greene, yes," you crouched down, pointing to yourself, "-that's me."

Judith smiled, somehow even brighter, taking your hand into hers and guiding you to her toys -it was a little awkward in the crouch but you made do.

Before she could set off to show you some of them, you moved to sit comfortably on the rug -eager to talk.

"Judith," you hummed, gently, -watching as she fished around her toys for something in particular, "-Mr. Dixon says you've been sad."

She seemed to pause, deflating a bit and you felt a tinge in your heart. Her brown eyes fell to the rug, curls hanging forward with the motion. Part of you wished to brush back her curls for a moment, but you decided to wait for her reaction.

"Daddy gone," she finally said, her bottom lip pouted out, and you thought for a second her eyes were getting glossy.

"Oh, sweetheart," you cooed, taking your hand to brush back her curls, smoothing down her cheek, "-I miss your Daddy too."

She sniffed a second, her tiny little hands coming to wipe at her eyes -making them a vibrant red. You frowned.

"Hey, no crying, princess," you exhaled, wiping the tears yourself with the soft padding of your thumb, "-he'll be back very soon. For now-"

You shifted, fingers brushing through her hair -getting stopped at the tangles, and you realized she still needed to get ready for the day. Maybe you could go for a walk?

"-you've got me," you smiled, "-Is that alright?"

She smiled, blinking away the last few tears on the cusp of her eyes, and nodding -slow and concise. The kind where you could tell she was still learning how to move her body.

"Now," you began, pushing yourself off the ground and allowing a hand to guide her up as well, "-would you like to get ready for the day? Maybe you could come help me with the flowers-"

Judith nodded much faster at that, practically bouncing on her toes, and you grinned bright.

"Okay, okay," you laughed, "-Let's pick out something then, shall we?"

Gently guiding her to the closet, you perused through her dresses -eyes darting to the many fabrics and colors. She wasn't quite at the age where she could choose solely for herself, so it was at your discretion.

With the thought that something so fancy shouldn't be worn for a day indoors, you pulled out both a green (a light minty sort of tone) and purple (your ever-loved lavender). Not hesitating, you swung to face Judith again, holding each one in your hands, poised for her to pick.

"Which one would you like?"

She seemed to grab at them both for a minute, tiny fingers pinching at the fabric widely. You patiently waited, as she settled decidedly on the green one -pointing at it with conviction.

You knew one day she was going to be quite the personality.

Before you could quite address the hair situation, Judith was leaving her room -guiding you exactly where you expected her to, the meeting room.

She'd been in there a few times, once when the bouquets were being conceptualized. In minutes, she was quite mesmerized with them -fingers holding ever so gently onto the petals and smelling them just like everyone else had. You could tell she really enjoyed them.

"Well, hello there," Maggie chimed, crouching down to greet the girl, "-you look very pretty today, Ms. Judith."

Her eyes darted to you for a moment, lingering on her little hand holding yours as Judith hid behind your leg. It was all fairly cute.

"I've got a little surprise guest, if that's okay?"

Maggie laughed, settling back into a chair, "'Wouldn't have it any other way."

You pulled yourself into a nearby chair. Just as you settled, your eyes rested on Judith, her hands reached out to you, and clenching the air, you smiled big and bright. Without a second thought, you pulled her up with you.

She sat neatly on your lap, as you pulled a stray flower off the table -previously placed delicately in a vase. Handing it to her, she smiled brightly and held it gently, fidgeting with the petals in between her fingers.

Pursing your lips, you smoothed her hair down with a loose hand, before having a thought.

"Mr. Dixon?" You called, and before you could so much as blink, he was at the door, "-Will you get me her hair products? I intend to fix it."

"Of course, Ms. Greene," he bowed, slipping out of the room.

"Well," you huffed, absent-mindedly combing through her hair with your fingers, "-Maggie, will you read through the list aloud for me? I've got my hands quite full."

Your sister smiled, nodding, and beginning, "You've sent out your invitations, the flowers are all ordered to the Headmistress's liking, and the menu has been decided..."

The next few hours were quiet ones, as you took the hair products and began your work. Because she had curls, it was quite the process to keep them presentable. You were faced with a slew of different things and found yourself at home doing so, it reminded you of your younger sisters.

"Do we know who all has said they are attending?" You offered, carefully twisting her curls into themselves, "-I know the invitation list itself was not very solid, but-"

"Everyone has responded," Maggie hummed, hands dashing around stacks of papers -you did not envy her at the moment, "-it seems all guests are attending. Not that I could give you an exact list."

You waved your hand dismissively, laughing, "I'm not certain I want it."

Maggie responded, "It's bound to be everyone in Alexandria."

"Certainly not," you smiled, readjusting Judith so you could get to the other side of her head -she was unfazed by the movement, enraptured with both the flower and the colorful paper scattered along the table.

"Certainly so," Maggie shot back before pausing, eyes flickering to one of the invitations -a delighted grin lighting up her face, "-oh my god, Mr. Jenkins is to be there."

"No," you responded in disbelief, "you most certainly are joking. Show me-"

"Right here," Maggie immediately stood up, scampering to your side and pointing at the page, "-and look, it's even got a response!"

She held it out for you to read, "'Rather morose to see such a fine lady go, but a wild congratulations is in order, I shall attend.'"

"He wishes it was him you were marrying, you know," Maggie sneaked out, biting back a laugh.

"Maggie-" you swatted at her -carefully avoiding Judith.

"Well you danced so often-"

"Yes," you huffed out, tone a little whiny, "-because you so often refused him, you know. If anything, he'll be much more devastated upon your marriage since he wished to dance with you so badly-"

"Don't start on this," Maggie chastised, "-let's just agree that not one of us dances a set with the man, yes? Ever again."

"Easier said than done," you retorted.

Maggie laughed, "Well... You can just stick Mr. Grimes on him if he asks. Lord pray for anyone who speaks so to you."

"Mr. Jenkins does not deserve to have such a measure," you rolled your eyes, "-he's been nothing but a gentleman."

"A gentleman certainly doesn't dance like that-"

"Maggie!"

After the banter ceased, she made her way back over to the chair and you continued your pattern -fingers flitting over the last few bits of Judith's hair. You weren't sure if you wished to leave it as it was, or maybe do something else. Looking at the table where the materials for it lay (ribbons and bows and bands and clips), you certainly had options.

"Excuse me," you spoke, deciding to run a ribbon through it (what color), "-did the seamstress say the dress needed one more fitting?"

"Not a fitting," Maggie recited, "-just one more try on. Where, I suppose, if necessary, it may turn into a fitting."

"And when is that?"

Maggie pursed her lips, flipping through the stacks of paper before settling on one, "Three days from today."

"Hm," you hummed, "-that's quite soon, isn't it?"

"Well-" Maggie started with a laugh and then suddenly stopped -your eyes were downcast, so you couldn't see much of her movement.

"Maggie?" You asked, twisting some of Judith's hair to be tied with a ribbon, "-Everything alright? Is something wrong?"

She must've sensed your biting nerves because she seemed to clear her throat and straighten, soothing, "Nothing is wrong, sister, everything is right on track. No need to fret."

"Good," you exhaled, shoulders sinking slightly, "-you cannot joke about these things, Maggie. You're liable to kill me."

"Now, you sound like Headmistress."

"Oh," you grimaced, quipping "-maybe you should kill me."

Maggie let out a sharp laugh, ratting through her body, and you grinned in response. Always so happy to see her laugh, to see anyone laugh, really.

"There," you sighed out, fingers cramping, as you smoothed out her hair -green ribbons peeling through the blonde, "-all done."

Judith seemed to perk up at that, or maybe something else, but nevertheless, her hands reached up to paw at her hair. You supposed she couldn't see it right now, so that was the next best thing.

"Pretty," she smiled, toothy, up at you -nose scrunched up in a grin.

"Very pretty," you confirmed with a smile -gently pinching her nose, "-Maggie, what do you think-"

Before your sister could say a word, though, Judith's head swung to the side suddenly -jumping out of your lap and squealing, "Daddy!"

Your eyes fluttered to the door, whereas depicted, Mr. Grimes stood -casually leaned on the doorframe as if he'd been there awhile. His stance however made it clear that he had only had his eyes on you and Judith for however long that may have been. Which, guessing by the gleam in his eye, might've been quite longer than you expected.

"Mr. Grimes," you breathed out with a breathless smile.

He crouched down to gather Judith up in his arms, bright grin and perfect teeth on display. His outfit was much more business than you'd ever seen him in, with layers of coats, but he suited it quite well. Though, you wondered if he had ever not suited something well. You truly doubted it.

"Ms. Greene," he smiled back like a weight shifted off his shoulders as his eyes laid upon you, before turning to Maggie, "-Ms. Greene, lovely to see the two of you."

"Oh, please," Maggie teased, "-don't lie on my behalf."

"Hardly lying," Mr. Grimes chimed back, "-your presence is wonderful."

"Very kind of you," Maggie smiled, "-but I highly doubt it is 'seeing your betrothed weeks after their absence' wonderful. Am I wrong, Mr. Grimes?"

He pursed his lips for a moment and laughed -shaking his head in disbelief.

Maggie merely guided a pointed glance to you, and you turned an unfair shade of crimson.

"Mr. Grimes," you started, leaning onto the table with a curious gleam, "-just how long have you been enjoying our company?"

"Without our knowledge," Maggie chimed.

He seemed to ponder a moment, even still, eyes swimming over your face -drinking you in, and dipping to your lips for a spare second. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the fluster that such a look would instill. You hadn't even thought about-

"Should I be worried about Mr. Jenkins?" He finally said, a grin creeping up his lips -crinkling at the eyes, "-Has he stolen your heart first? Must I fight for your hand-"

Maggie snorted, throwing her hands down on the table in a fit of indecency, and if you weren't so embarrassed, you probably would have chastised her on it.

That long?

"You heard all of that?" You nearly squeaked out, and Maggie only laughed harder.

Mr. Grimes smiled, something gleaming in his eye -yes.

"Good god, Headmistress is going to kill us," you groaned -fingers rubbing at your temples, before turning to him, "-you must never speak a word of this to-"

"I found it rather cute," he interrupted -a knowing little smile on his face, "-if you wish for honesty."

"Undignified, lacking etiquette, impolite-" you corrected, continuously.

"Cute," he reiterated, before explaining further as if to soothe you, "-plus, my presence was unknown, I hardly expect you to hold such standards of etiquette within the intimacy of sisterhood."

You suppressed a smile (he always knew exactly what to say), before sighing out, "I suppose so."

"And," he continued, shifting Judith to his hip, "-you sat through it all caring for my daughter quite intimately. I think I'm founded in my affections."

"To be fair, Mr. Grimes," Maggie spoke up, "-I truly doubt there's anything in this world she could do that you wouldn't gaze upon affectionately."

"Maggie," you chastised -cheeks blooming into a familiar warmth.

"No, no," Mr. Grimes hummed, playing with Judith in his arms, "-she brings up a rather good point, I do not think there's anythin' that you do 'at I'm not enamored by."

Enamored, your mind chimed.

"You two are joined against me now," you huffed, "-I don't believe it very fair."

"Let's think," Maggie proposed, ignoring you promptly, "-things that Mr. Grimes wouldn't be keen on from his betrothed."

"Maggie, really, let's-"

"Gardening," she offered, "-it's quite a messy thing, sweaty really. What of it, Mr. Grimes?"

He didn't speak at first, but his grin merely widened, Maggie had simply seen enough.

"That's not fair," you argued, "-it's an interest of his, anything I do that he enjoys is going to make him... happier."

"Happy," he turned to you, pulling a chair to sit into -placing Judith on his lap, "-I am very happy, aren't I?"

You smiled, something fluttering in your stomach -you were never going to truly get over these things, were you?

"I would hope so," Maggie hummed, picking at a piece of paper -something in her a little bitter, "-your wedding is very soon. It's a little late to feel much of anything else, Mr. Grimes."

Something seemed to pass over his face then, flickers in his eyes and the twitch of his mouth, his eyes dipped to yours. He was conveying something in them to you, something serious.

"Ms. Greene," he asked, much less teased, "-would you mind if we spoke for a moment? Alone?"

[spartanguard]

electric touch [from the vault]

Summary: All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life… | Emma and Killian have both been burned in love before; maybe this is the time they'll get it right. [Inspired by "Electric Touch (Taylor's Version) (From the Vault)" by Taylor Swift & Fall Out Boy] A/N: for my annual self-indulgent birthday fic: Just a little thing based on my favorite vault track from Speak Now (Taylor's Version)…definitely the first in a series of similarly-inspired fics ;) rated G | 1.9k | AO3

Emma gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter and took a deep breath. She was almost home. She just had to get there—then whatever impending breakdown was creeping up her spine could happen.

Although she wasn’t sure this was a bad one. A mental break-up? No, definitely not that—she didn’t want to use anything even vaguely related to that term; she’d had enough splits and kissed enough frogs that it was what she usually expected to happen. And this time—she really, really hoped this was the one that didn’t end badly; that maybe this time, she’d found the prince.

That was an awful lot to put on just one date, but—it was a pretty incredible one. (Or maybe her sister-in-law’s unending optimism was finally rubbing off on her.)

Emma had almost bailed on it to start with, regretting that she’d finally conceded to one of Mary Margaret’s setups. But her sister-in-law had been particularly insistent on this one. And the guy had agreed to meet at one of her favorite restaurants in Boston, so at least the food would be good. She was already preparing the “it’s not you, it’s me” excuse to get out of ever seeing him again.

Based on the picture she’d seen of him, she figured he’d just be another handsome asshole. He was definitely the first part—possibly too much, if that was possible, in a way that made her want to put up extra defenses to protect her from a pretty face and a leather jacket (those kinds of guys were usually good for one thing and one thing only, and if he was David’s friend, then he was off limits for that). 

But when she saw him across the restaurant, he looked nervous—or withdrawn—she couldn’t quite tell—anxiously tracing a tumbler of some amber-colored liquor as she approached. “Killian?” she asked, barely above a whisper—she didn’t want to scare him, getting the sudden impression he was like a timid but wild animal that might run away if startled.

He did jump a bit, but then when he realized what was going on, she saw a shift in his expression—almost like putting on a mask (though an attractive, charming one, with a brilliant grin that cut a dimple into his well-manicured scruff; it just wasn’t fully genuine). 

“Emma, I take it?” he replied, standing, in an accent that took her by surprise.

“That’s me,” she confirmed, trying to keep it casual (and having no clue if she achieved that). “Nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand to his (the only one he had, she noticed, the cuff of his left sleeve hanging empty).

And that was when it all changed.

An electric shock traveled through her veins at his firm grasp—coursing fast and warm through her whole body, settling somewhere around her heart.

His eyes widened at her touch; had he felt it, too? It was probably just static—or nothing—but this was something different; maybe it was his aura, or something in his eyes—some metaphysical sign from the universe that only Mary Margaret would believe in—but something was telling her—he was different. In the best way possible.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said, voice deep and a bit breathy.

Woah—she was getting ahead of herself. He just had really pretty eyes or something and that was throwing her off. Right?

But then he kissed the back of her hand and, no—this was definitely something different. (The scratch of his stubble brushed her skin and it took everything in her not to find out right then and there what it felt like against her lips.)

The night flew by in a blur—they more than hit it off after that. There was all the normal getting-to-know-you conversation, but even there, it seemed like they had a connection that went deeper than surface level.

Leaving to drive back to her tiny house in the outer suburbs was extremely difficult (not the hardest thing she’d ever done—no, that remained giving up her baby for adoption—but this was up there). Despite his assurance that he’d be in touch, she wasn’t sure she could wait that long.

But she’d have to, because, as she was pulling in her driveway, she realized she hadn’t gotten his number. 

She may have slammed her head against the steering wheel at that.

She took another breath and then headed inside. It was good, actually—because then she had some time to brace herself for the worst.

A fire of some kind had been lit—she knew that much; she just hoped that this would be the one time she didn’t get burned.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Killian managed to keep his cool until he was out of the restaurant and partway down the block, walking to his apartment, when he finally managed to exhale. That had been completely unexpected. 

It had been several years since anyone had truly captured his attention—not since he first met Milah, and certainly not since she died. He’d tried dating a few times, but nothing ever felt…right. 

(He’d pretty much given up on love entirely since the accident that took his hand and his Naval post. Mainly because he had to work on himself in that regard first.)

It had been a couple hours, but he swore—his hand was still buzzing from where Emma had first touched him. He flexed his fingers and felt a tingle spread through him—not as strong as earlier but it was still somehow running electricity through his nerves. 

He was still somewhat berating himself for the choice to kiss her hand—that it had maybe come off as trying too hard—but he hadn’t been able to resist. He also had the sense that Emma would have made it known if the gesture hadn’t been appreciated, and he’d be limping home to nurse his wounds rather than the almost-floating he was currently engaged in.

Emma was certainly beautiful—he knew that much from the pictures he’d seen from Dave, his old Navy buddy—but that wasn’t it; at least, not all of it. She was also smart, fierce, caring, independent, and just—so lovely. (Perhaps a bit prickly, but in a good way—a way he understood.)

But most of all: she got it. Him. Being surrounded by others, yet still being alone. It hadn’t been a major topic of conversation—it was still only a first date, after all—but she had that look: the one you get when you've been on your own. 

All of a sudden, he realized he was in front of his building. And all of a sudden, that empty flat loomed above him like a tomb. Sleeping alone was something he was accustomed to, but for the first time in so long, it was the last thing he wanted to do.

But…his vintage Chevelle was right there, parked on the street. 

He pulled out his phone from his pocket, only to realize—they hadn’t exchanged digits. Blast. 

But they had discussed domiciles—and he knew exactly where her house was, near the little diner he’d discovered while searching for the closest fish and chips Boston had compared to what he’d had growing up in England. (It hadn’t been, but they made a damn fine burger and he’d been back a few times.)

So he fished out his keys and hopped in the car. He didn’t have a ton of confidence in his romantic skills anymore, but he also knew that he only had to get it right one time. It hadn’t happened in the past; maybe this would be it. He’d known enough heartbreak not to hope, but found it sparking inside anyways. 

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Emma was puttering around her house, trying to find a distraction from thinking about him. But she was coming up short. There was no clutter to put away, no dishes to wash, surprisingly no laundry to fold.

She flopped herself down on her couch and picked up the remote, but nothing on TV sounded good. Scrolling social media on her phone was just a blur of color that she couldn’t focus on.

Her finger hovered over the messaging app. Would David think it was weird if she asked him for Killian’s number? Or rather—would Killian think that? Was it coming on too strong? Should she give space and wait for him to make a move? (Was she imagining all of this?)

This. This was why she didn’t do dating. There were way too many variables. 

But, goddammit. Couldn’t this just be the one time the stars aligned and it just…happened?

No; Emma’s life never got to be that easy. And she couldn’t even really justify going to bed yet because it was only 8:05; the sun had only just set. 

She threw her head back and groaned. God, she was a mess.

But while she was wallowing in—not misery, not self-loathing, some other thing—she heard the sound of an engine. No one else lived by her, and she hadn’t ordered anything to be delivered. What the hell?

She turned and looked—right into the glare of two headlamps from a 1970s muscle car. The engine shut off, killing the lights—and her heart skipped several beats when she saw who was behind the steering wheel.

Without thinking any further, she jumped up and ran for the door. And promptly ran into her coffee table, but the inevitable bruise on her shin was worth it.

She ended up limping the rest of the way, then took a brief moment to compose herself. And yanked it open.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Killian had ran up to Emma’s door, and was just about to knock when it swung open.

Part of him had been second-guessing this gesture the entire drive over, romantic as it was intended to be. She gave him a small smile, but that didn’t completely assure him that this advance wasn’t unwanted.

“Sorry; I—” he started, but she cut him off.

With a kiss.

She fisted her hands in the lapels of his leather jacket and pulled him close; he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

When their lips met—it was instantaneous: whether they were real or imagined, sparks flew, jolting him from head to toe. It was incandescent—explosive—thrilling—terrifying—in all the best ways.

They broke for air, but stayed close. “You felt it, too?” he murmured; he had to ask.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “So much.”

“Maybe we should kiss again—just to make sure,” he suggested.

She looked up at him and smirked, then dragged him in the house.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Killian wasn’t sure of much; just that this felt right. And it could either break his heart—or bring it back to life. It was a risk he was willing to take. 

Thankfully, Emma was of the same mind—maybe even thinking about forever on her end. All he knew was that he was willing to spend just as long to figure it (them) out—especially if every touch had the same electricity as the first.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

thanks so much for reading! tagging some friends:

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[anonymityisfunwriter]

You're Losing Me

Part of Inspired by Taylor Swift Series 'You're Losing Me' Chapter List

"How long are you going to give me the cold shoulder for?"

You sigh deeply, trying your best to relax your tense shoulders, "I'm not ignoring you. I just don't have anything to say to you."

He steps off the elevator, holding the door for you, "You haven't had anything to say since the party."

Walking down the hallway together, the sound of your muted footsteps is the only thing that cuts through the tense silence.

You unlock the door, stepping inside your apartment with Bucky trailing behind you. You peel off your jacket and kick off your heels, "I don't want to fight tonight, alright? We'll talk in the morning when we're not upset."

"So you are upset?" Bucky probes, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the couch.

"Bucky, I already told you, just drop it."

You barely recognize your own voice, it's so soft, so defeated. There isn't an ounce of anger, it's all been replaced by exhaustion and vague humiliation.

You flick on the lights and look around your apartment. You remembered the feeling you had when you first found this place.

You thought it was perfect. Bucky loved it so much.

You loved the way the light poured in from every window. Bucky would pull you into his arms on lazy mornings, hold you, sway you around the room, twirling you around. Laughter used to fill this room. Love and warmth used to fill this home.

You can't remember the last time you danced anymore.

Now, the room looks lifeless and stale as though all the color was stolen when you weren't looking.

"What could I have possibly done this time?" Bucky demands with exasperation dripping in every syllable. "I barely spoke to you at the party!"

You bitterly scoff, "Well, that would be your first clue."

"Don't be a smart ass," Bucky chides.

Your voice becomes sharper. It saddens you that the only thing that breathes life into you is an argument, "I asked you to drop it."

"And I'm not going to."

You straighten your spine. Giving yourself a moment to wind yourself up like a discarded children's toy, when you speak, you've finally come back to life, "Fine! You want to talk, let's talk! I heard what you said, when Steve suggested that we might be getting engaged next. You fucking laughed!"

"Really? We're doing this again?" Bucky drops his hands in annoyance. He didn't think you both had recovered from the last time this subject came up a couple weeks ago. You obviously reconciled, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed a hint of tension lingering in the air. He shakes his head, "We're really going to have this fight again?"

You take another deep breath, softly shaking your head.

Your heart was still on the mend from the first time you'd talked about marriage to Bucky.

You convinced yourself that you'd just caught him off guard that night a couple weeks ago, he didn't actually feel that way.

You'd talked about this when you first started dating. You were clear that you weren't interested in a relationship that would go nowhere. You wanted a future.

Before moving in, you reminded him of that too.

A year and a half of you two living together, more than three years together. You watched your friends move in with their significant other, get engaged, get married, have families.

It reminded you of how much you wanted that.

You watched as Bucky's colleagues took steps toward retirement. He did the exact opposite. He took on more responsibilities. More assignments. He wholeheartedly threw himself into his work.

It was an offhanded comment from Wanda, whose engagement you'd celebrated tonight, that got you thinking.

You didn't want Bucky to retire. You didn't even want him to propose right away.

You just wanted to know that you were still moving forward.

You'd never felt like you couldn't talk to Bucky up until that point.

You thought you broached the topic with an open mind.

He didn't see it that way.

He tried to shut the whole conversation down. You were shocked at his reaction and continued to press the issue.

It threw you for a loop, sent you reeling down a path of insecurity and doubts.

One huge blowout later, you were more confused and hurt than ever.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were certain that Bucky was the one, that he was it for you.

So you wondered why it felt like he'd torn your heart to shreds without remorse?

You'd never fought like this before. You'd never had doubts about Bucky.

There was a coldness in the argument. You'd both said things that couldn't be taken back.

And now, you didn't know what to believe in.

"No, because I'm upset right now, and I don't want to talk about this right now."

"But I do! Or do my feelings not matter here?"

You lean on the kitchen island and dejectedly hang your head, "You've made your feelings on the matter very clear, Bucky. I'm allowed to be upset."

"Upset about what? That I don't want to marry you - That I don't want to marry right now, I mean."

The words leave Bucky's mouth without a thought. It was safe to say, he'd never seen such a broken look on your face before. He'd never said or done anything to hurt you before.

He has to physically turn away from you, seeing you like that makes it too hard to pretend that this is just a fight that will blow over tomorrow.

His heart aches and the pit of his stomach feels like a leadened knot weighing him down. All from one look.

Bucky's words feel like a punch to the gut. You clutch your diaphragm, holding your midsection like your shaky hand is the only thing keeping you together.

Your heart aches, splintering with each word, as you clench your jaw to hold back the tears, "I know exactly what you meant."

"That's not fair. I misspoke. You can't hold that against me."

You shakily exhale as you choke back a sob, your vision blurring from unshed tears, "Fine, you misspoke. Why'd you laugh?"

Bucky holds his head in his hands as he loudly rants at you, "I was uncomfortable! I laughed it off because it's none of Steve's business!"

You shake your head, refusing to accept that explanation, "It sure didn't seem like an uncomfortable laugh to me."

His head snaps up in disbelief, "So you're really going to hold a laugh against me?"

You cross your arms, still leaning against the counter, "You don't understand."

"I know you don't."

"Are you even listening to me?" Your head snaps up, hands flying up in frustration, "You laughed at the mere suggestion of marrying me. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"

"You do nothing with it! It was a misunderstanding," Bucky seethes.

You bite back a frustrated groan, knowing it won't help the tension that rises with each passing second, "It's a misunderstanding that you don't ever see us getting married?"

"I never said that!" he shouts.

"Do you know how embarrassing that was? Everyone else is getting married and having families, and the thought of having that with me is laughable to you."

"So you want to get married because everyone else is?"

"Don't do that!" you snap, standing upright. You throw an accusatory glare as you begin to pace the room, "You knew what I wanted from the start. I want to move forward. I want to build a life with you!"

Bucky angrily gestures around the apartment, "Because the life we've built is nothing without getting married?"

"You want to talk about the life we've built?" you rhetorically ask, your voice getting progressively louder, "Let's talk about it! Let's talk about the way that you've got one foot out the door, let's talk about the way that you refuse to even think about stepping away from the Avengers!"

"They need me!" Bucky bellows. "You know that!"

"And I don't? Do you think it doesn't scare the shit out of me when you're gone for weeks at a time? Do you think I like constantly worried about you and your safety?"

Bucky accusingly points at you, "You knew what exactly what you were signing up for when we started dating!"

"I was signing up for a life, for a future, with you!" you shout through tears. "And instead of handing over the reigns to someone else, you refuse to let go, you refuse to move on! I've seen all of your friends move on, I've seen them walk away. Everyone else, except you - Wanda, Tony, Steve-"

"Do not compare to Steve!" Bucky snaps, sitting down on the couch with an icy glare.

"I'm not comparing you to Steve. I'm begging you to see what's happening to us!"

"Nothing's happening to us!" The tone of his words if resounding, final, as though the argument is now supposed to be done.

You stand across from him, looking at him expectantly, "What do you want from me? Do you want me to be okay with never moving forward? Living in this apartment for the rest of our lives? Is that what you want?"

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know where to even begin to answer that question.

On the one hand, he wants things to stay the same. He likes where you’re at right now, or at least, where you were two weeks ago.

On the other hand, he wants to take those steps with you. He sees what his friends have and he wants that with you too. He wasn't sure what was holding him back. His anxiety. Fear.

He doesn't know, so he doesn't say anything.

He just wanted to live in the moment. He didn't want to picture the future yet. He loves you, more than anyone, and this is where he wanted to stay.

He looks up at you with a blank expression, at a loss for words.

He doesn't see it. He doesn't see how staying in this space is bad. He refuses to admit that there's something rotting just beneath the surface. There is no sickness. It's just a fight.

"Do something! Say something! Say that we're worth fighting for! Say that you see a future with me! Say that you want a future with me!"

He doesn't say that.

He doesn't say anything. Sitting there, he looks so cold and uncaring, like he can't see that you're dying in this twilight zone with him.

A choked sob escapes your lips when he says nothing.

For the first time in your relationship, it occurs to you that maybe you don't want the same things anymore. That he doesn't want you anymore. Not in the way you want him. 

"Don't you?" You plead with him, begging him to say something that will fix this. He refuses to meet your gaze this time. A single tear streams down your cheek. You wipe it away and nod, "I see."

Bucky remains silently staring at the floor as you walk away from him and into your bedroom.

The minutes slowly tick by as Bucky sits alone in the darkened room. He just wants this to be over. He wants to go back to before Wanda put the idea of marriage in your head.

After a while, he hears the door knob click and the door swing open.

He almost foolishly believes that you came to end the fight.

It's what happened the last time you had this fight. You held out a hand to him and held him tightly without resolving a single thing.

He looks up at you and possibly for the first time, he sees the toll his silence has taken on you. You look exhausted, beyond defeated. It's then that he notices a small overnight bag packed. You clutch that bag like it's your lifeline. "Where are you going?"

Your voice is just above a whisper. All your strength, all your determination is gone, what's left is a person you don't recognize anymore, "I don't know, I just - I have to go."

He stands up, striding over to you. He takes your unoccupied hand and begs, "No, don't leave like that."

You slip your hand out of his grip, "Just - stop, stop, please." It brings out an ugly side of you, old emotional wounds you'd buried long ago. You feel so insecure, so stupid right now. You can't help offer him another piece of your endless empathy, "I understand, I wouldn't marry me either."

"That's not - I do - Please, don't leave," Bucky pleads, his eyes glassy. It's suddenly too real. For the first time, it occurs to him that you might actually leave and not come back. It occurs to him that this might've been the final blow. That this might be too far gone to save. "Don't leave like this."

"I know what I want, and I think you need to figure out what you want, James. I can't keep doing this." You shrug your coat back on. You look at the door, then back to him. He sits on the couch, watching you. You want him to fight for you, to talk to you, to explain. Anything. Something. But you know that you can't wait for that anymore. "You're losing me."

Part 2 AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💛

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[cas-coding]

au where dean is a country music star who has been hiding from the world for a year due to being outed as bisexual and then having his fanbase turn on him. he finally emerges for a coffee one day and is almost unrecognizable and when cas approaches him just asking if anything is wrong dean is like oh thank god he doesn’t recognize me.

dean vaguely explains his whole situation before cas tells him that he knows who he is only because claire started listening to his music after he was outed and how she thinks its super cool that there are queer country artists out there. and dean starts sobbing and saying he doesn’t write songs anymore, he can’t, and cas just smiles at him and says it’s okay and he does enough and he can rest.

dean comes back the next week with wired earbuds and a demo for cas. i’m not at my best, i mean, my reputation has never been worse, so, you must like me for me. i can’t make any promises now can i? but maybe i’ll grab a drink. and it’s so charming and dean is strumming his guitar in the background (yes its modified lyrics to delicate by taylor swift shush dean is taylor in this au maybe) and cas just smiles and says thank you to dean.

and every week dean comes back with more samples of demos and things and most of them are angry, he’s angry about what happened, but some of them are soft and lovely. dean hands the phone to cas one week and looks away and cas is confused and then he turns on the song and it’s pretty lovey dovey, just ten second portions of lyrics before dean goes back to the drawing board. his starry eyes could spark up the darkest night, mmmmm, uh, i’ll call it what i want to, yeah, call him what i want to, woah, i’d let him put his initial on a chain for my neck, yeah, not because he owns me, just ‘cause he really knows me,

and cas is so overcome with emotion that he just grabs deans hand and pulls him into an alleyway and kisses him silly and dean is confused because “i thought i crossed a line, you were talking about claire, you have a daughter, i didn’t want to assume but-“ and cas is just breathlessly laughing that claire is his niece and he is very gay and very much smitten with dean and he’s so glad dean likes talking to him as much as he likes talking to dean.

so ofc dean drags cas back to his house and blows him and they fuck silly and of course dean freaks out that cas got what he wanted and will go to the press but in the morning cas is playing a melody on the piano and softly mumbling the call it what i want to, call him what i want to, and dean knows he found his inspiration again.

anyway theres more but im tired so. maybe ill notes app it tmr on the long drive i have.

[sungbeam]

[𝟕:𝟒𝟑𝐏𝐌] — basketball star!jake sim x band member!reader

1.4k words, jake's kinda whipped, inspired by taylor swift's you belong with me except the sports guy is in love w the girl in the bleachers

a/n: hello fellow engenes it's been a while 🤧

"And Decelis makes the final score of the night from star shooter Jake Sim, winning tonight's game!" The announcer's statement had the crowd erupting into a frenzy of victory as the buzzer sounded in the background. 

Jake's grin made his cheeks ache as his teammates swarmed him in a triumphant mosh pit, congratulating him and patting him on the back. At some point, someone had lifted him up in the air so he could view the crowd. The pep band was located on the far right side of the home stands, playing away at some upbeat tune that Jake vaguely recognized. But the point of the matter was that he found himself scanning that section of bleachers for a specific, familiar face. 

There—he spotted the pink hair of Kim Sunoo, and undoubtedly you right beside him. Sunoo was a trumpet player and you were an alto saxophone (don't ask him how he knew that), and you two were always attached at the hip. Apparently, you had met in the hospital room when your mothers shared a room after their separate births. (Don't ask him how he knew that either.)

Some part of his heart soared seeing you in the stands to witness his winning shot, even if you only came to play for the game. 

When he was set down on his own two feet, he was swung under his friend Jay Park's arm and next to Park Sunghoon, his best friend, who had noticed Jake's eyes wander toward your side of the gym. "You should just say hi to her, dude," he mused. 

Jake perked up. "What?"

Jay smirked, knowing what Sunghoon was getting at. "Jake Sim, star shooter and ladies man, can't get a lady?"

"Hey! Wait, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'll have you know I can get a girl just fine!" 

As they entered the locker room, Jake was suddenly overwhelmed by the JV team coming up to bombard him with kiss-up compliments. Even though this usually irritated him to bits, he was low-key glad to have this to take the conversation away from you and how he couldn't work up the courage to even say H-E-L-L-O. It was kind of lame of him, but then again, with Sunoo always at your side, there was hardly any chance given to him. 

(At least, that was what he kept telling himself.)

When he had finally gotten away from everybody, he sighed, stealing a shower to rinse off his body quickly. There would probably be a post-game meetup at the local pizzeria, and his stomach growled in anticipation. Once done, he tugged his change of clothes on and left the locker room with his duffle over his shoulder before anyone else could stop him. 

"Sung—oh hey." 

Jake stopped short as he almost collided with a blur of pink coming into the locker room. "Oh, uh, hey Sunoo."

Sunoo's fox-like eyes narrowed on Jake, and the basketball player had to physically restrain himself from squirming. Even if Sunoo was on the smaller side, he was no less intimidating. Jake had heard from plenty of people, mainly Sunoo, how much of a diva Sunoo was and how scary his lectures were. And him being your best friend was not very helpful for Jake. "Is Sunghoon still in there?" He pointed back behind Jake toward the inside of the locker room. 

Nodding, Jake's hand tightened around his duffle bag strap. "Yeah."

"Cool." Sunoo slipped past him, voice yelling for Sunghoon as he did. 

"Cool…" Jake hadn't even realized he was holding in his breath until he let out a loud exhale. Shaking his head, he continued on his way out. 

The cool, night air was thankfully refreshing on his freshly washed hair and body. He tipped his head back with a small smile, raking a hand through his dark, damp locks. Most people took him as a people person, with his golden retriever-like personality as a testament to it, but even extroverts needed a bit of time alone. 

He suddenly felt as if someone were looking at him, and he froze, eyes searching for the person. Almost starting in surprise, he found you standing just outside the locker room doors, leaning against the wall. You had your phone propped up in your hand as if you had been waiting for someone—Sunoo, no doubt. (Jake wished it was him instead.)

But then again, you had been looking at him, stealing glances. Jake turned the charm on. 

A smirk curled the corner of his lips upward. "Take a picture, darling. It'll last longer."

You wrinkled your nose, and he wished he didn't want so bad to coo at how cute you were. "I would rather not, thanks."

"What? You like the real thing better, then?" 

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," you tried again, a sigh falling from your lips. At your feet, Jake noticed the two cases—your sax and Sunoo's trumpet. "I'm just waiting for Sunoo."

"Ah, yeah, he just went in." Jake nodded back toward the locker room. "And for the record, your staring could never make me uncomfortable," he added with a cheeky wink. 

You blinked, surprised. But then again, he had to give you credit for recovering quickly… or maybe you just weren't affected at all. Jake could never seem to read you as well as he could anyone else. "Did he tell you if he was gonna be out soon?"

Okay, so you were completely ignoring his attempts to flirt with you… great. He shifted on his feet, tucking a hand into the pocket of his shorts. He bit his lip. "Nah, sorry, darling. Just asked if Hoon was still in or not."

"Oh, thanks."

A dreadful beat of silence. God, how could you be so effortlessly beautiful? Jake had met plenty of gorgeous girls, but never anyone like you. You, who could make rocking out on your sax look so sexy and cool. You, who made Jake's eyes forever linger on the right side of the Home stands. You, who could stand there in the school polo and black jeans and make the outfit look better than a Vogue magazine cover. The moonlight seemed to illuminate the brilliance of your eyes and the soft bounce of your hair. You probably had really soft hair…

Jake cleared his throat. He hoped that you hadn't caught him checking you out. "Are you coming to the pizza place?—I mean, with Sunoo, of course."

You cocked your head to the side as if thinking about it. "Maybe… we weren't planning on it, but maybe. Uh, by the way, congrats on the winning shot tonight."

This was one of the few compliments that made his heart flutter now. He beamed with genuine happiness. "Thanks, Yn. Means a lot."

"Yeah," you said, offering a sort of half-smile. He'd take a half-smile from you any day. 

He opened his mouth to say something else—most likely another shitty attempt to flirt with you—when Sunoo and Sunghoon suddenly appeared. They were very loudly arguing with one another about Sunghoon forgetting his Advil in Sunoo's car again. This was probably the fifth time this week that it had happened. 

"Yn!" Sunoo cried. "Tell this buffoon that if he doesn't keep better track of his stuff, I'll just toss it in the trash!"

Sunghoon scowled. "Hey, who are you calling buffoon?!"

"You!"

You cut in before Sunoo and Sunghoon could start another cat fight. "Okay okay, calm down. Hoon, just try to remember better, and Sunoo, it's literally just Advil."

Sunoo and Sunghoon both pouted in mutual discontentment, but didn't argue any further. Jake raised an eyebrow, impressed. Only one person could tame Kim Sunoo, and that was you. (Fuck, why was that so attractive—?)

"Whatever," Sunghoon grumbled. "Jake, let's get going. I wanna get to the pizza before everyone else." He walked over to Jake, hand coming down on his shoulder to direct him toward his car in the parking lot. 

Jake glanced back at you and Sunoo, the words dying on his tongue. Say something, idiot. Anything!

"He's so annoying sometimes," he heard Sunoo grumble to you as the two of you walked away in the opposite direction. 

Your laughter lit up the night—he caught the ending of it and the beginning of your words. "Yeah, but you still…"

The urge to run over and catch a ride with you was strong. But soon enough, he was in the driver's seat with Sunghoon beside him. He could only hope and pray that you'd be at the pizza place so he could try his hand once again. 

enha m.list

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[iwritetopassthetime]

home to you (9/9)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x fem!reader

CHAPTER EIGHT: Epilogue // Previous chapter // Masterlist

Wordcount: 5.9K

Summary: When two people are meant to be together, fate will always find a way to bring them to each other. It's just that sometimes it's not under the normal-est of circumstances. But a flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all, and Bradley will be ready to go through anything for the love of his Blossom.

Warnings: none for this chapter apart from tooth-rotting, diabetes-inducing fluff that will melt your insides and you will shart them out like yesterday's chilli, Bradley and Blossom get the happy ending they fucking deserve woo-fucking-woo!

Song inspiration: Lover by Taylor Swift

A/N: I'm really happy with the ending of this story, it was a joy to share it with all you wonderful people. I don't know you and I wish I did so I could give each and every single one of you a hug (because you basically made me a little happier with your support over the last few weeks). I'm definitely gonna write more about Bradley and Blossom, I already have head canons and shorts in the works, and if you have any thoughts share them, I'll be happy to stay in the bubble I've created with these two lovebirds for as long as I can!

Bradley drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, vaguely keeping in rhythm with the song playing on the radio. Either that or the blinkers, he wasn’t exactly paying attention. He’d put on the radio to pass the time, but had inadvertently failed to pay much attention to whichever mixtape he’d shoved into the player.

The mid-afternoon sun was beating down on the Bronco as it sat in the same place next to the sidewalk for the past twenty minutes. Even with the air conditioning on, the late August heat was uncomfortably warm on Bradley’s forearms. He reached over for the glove compartment, searching for the small bottle of sun cream that you’d casually dropped into the shopping cart few weeks prior. 

‘I can’t allow you to keep getting sunburnt and then wait for it to just go away on its own, Bradley’ you’d justified the off-the-shopping-list purchase and Bradley merrily followed along. He wasn’t going to pretend that the cream hadn’t done miracles for his face whenever you joined the Dagger squad for a weekly trip to the beach. 

So he lathered a good amount of it on his arms.

He checked his watch again; he couldn’t tell if you taking so long was good or not. The interview would’ve finished by now as you were given a very specific time slot. But if they kept you longer, that could only mean that they were interested in you and Bradley would think them stupid if they didn’t. 

Bradley leaned his head back against the seat and stared out his window at the vehicles driving past him. When he got too agitated doing that, he pulled out his phone and checked for any missed calls, messages and emails. When he found none, he opened his internet browser to — at the very least — complete today’s game of Wordle. After three tries he got four of the five letters down and it was a piece of cake to guess the word. How many times a day does he even use or think of the word fjord? 

He checked again to see if you were exiting the building, but there was no sign from you. Just tall French windows that led into a specious lobby with a simplistic receptionist desk. Behind it was an entire wall covered by a vertical garden, consisting of some ferns and other things that you’d most likely know the name of. You’d know how to take care of them, how to pair one plant with another depending on the type of soil, which time of year they’d be best to plant and when they’d flower. Bradley really hoped the interviewers would see that.

The past three months had been filled with change for you; three months since the-dick-who-will-never-be-named turned up at the Hard Deck to try and strong-arm you into going back to L.A. with him. Over my dead body, Bradley had thought then and that position hadn’t changed one bit. You had been pretty shaken up by the ordeal and he remembered that night as well as he remembered the first time you showed him the bruises on your neck. He’d feel angry for what that guy did to you, then he’d grow sad that there wasn’t more that he could do, but those emotions were opposed by two stronger ones: admiration for how strong you were despite your sweet and soft nature, and adoration.

You’d cried your eyes out on his chest when you were both back at Penny’s, laying in bed. Bradley had made sure to keep your injured hand on his chest so it would stay elevated during the night. You’d taken some ibuprofen to reduce the swelling and help with the pain, but no pill could’ve helped with the sadness that washed over you the moment you laid your head on his chest. Bradley’s hand on your hair had smoothed it down repeatedly and very gently, aware that you might be anxious to allow him to do so after having it violently yanked at by that guy. Whispered reassurances and words of praise were the only thing that had accompanied your sniffles as your breathing eased and you had finally fallen asleep in Bradley’s embrace.

Many things had changed after that night. 

All for the better, of course. 

Once Phoenix and Frankie had returned from L.A., with all your belongings hastily stuffed into boxes or bags and their promise that your ex would never look for you again, your days began returning to the normalcy they’d assumed over the past month. 

Penny had started taking you to see her therapist which furthered the improvement. You were more relaxed and felt calmer around people, you’d told Bradley. You had stopped looking over your shoulder every time someone walked through the doors of the Hard Deck.

‘I’m gonna start looking for a job in some landscaping companies,’ you’d told him whilst out on a dinner date. Bradley couldn’t be happier; after the amazing job you’d done with Penny’s backyard, it was clear to him that you had a talent and it deserved all the recognition you could get. So you’d put together a nice portfolio, containing pictures of your work at your last place and plenty of your most recent one. 

Bradley’s personal favourite (and he’d made sure to get a copy of it) was a picture taken from the steps to the backyard, early in the morning when the light of the morning sun shining above the roofs of the house behind lit up all the flowers and made them glow in deep oranges, reds and pinks. The picture was a testament to your skills as a gardener and captured a place and a time that was so special to you both.

Bradley had attached it to his visor so even now when he pointlessly pulled it down just to stare into his own reflection and kill a few seconds, the picture made him feel as warm as the sun rays looked on it. 

The passenger door opened and climbed onto the seat next to Bradley as he snapped the visor shut. He leaned over and gave you a quick peck with a murmured hello again, baby before you reached for your seatbelt. 

You always looked pretty, in anything you wore and particularly when you wore nothing at all. But today you looked stunning; a crisp white blouse with the top two buttons undone, fitted jeans and your black sneakers that were double washed, the white rubber polished to perfection. You looked every bit professional and beautiful, from your exposed, delicate ankles to your hair which had gone through the most drastic change over the past few months. 

After the incident, you had spent days where you felt uncomfortable with your hair, with its length and how it brushed against your shoulders. It pained Bradley that he couldn’t fully understand the extent of your pain and that he couldn’t help you. As far as he knew you had a very special connection to your hair that your mother had nurtured in you from an early age. So having something so special for you attacked… it made sense when you came up to him one afternoon and asked him to drive you to Penny and Amelia’s hairdresser.

The neat pixie cut you’d gotten fit you so well. At the salon, Bradley had tried to stop string at you through the mirror but he had been so terribly excited to see the light come back to your eyes when you ran your fingers through your much shorter hair.

Three months later and it had started to grow slowly, more noticeably around your ears and at the back of your neck. Your fringe would fall across your forehead and tickle against your eyelashes. The hairstyle allowed for your ears to poke out from the sides and give you very elf-like look which you wore well. 

Most importantly, you seemed comfortable in your body and that was all Bradley needed to know.

He watched you patiently as you settled back in your seat and placed your tote bag in your lap with a somewhat dejected sigh.

His heart gave a pang at the sound.

‘Didn’t go well?’

‘No, no, it was great,’ you replied with a small smile, but a pout was in the corner of your mouth. ‘It’s weird… They liked the stuff in my portfolio and I like the company. The stuff they do is really diverse, like, they’ve been contracted to do maintenance on some botanic gardens around the state.’

‘That’s cool.’

‘The salary is good as well. Not that it’s all that matters, but it would give me my financial independency back, you know.’

Bradley nodded. ‘So what’s wrong then?’

‘Twenty rejections from companies that are much less stellar than this one,’ you explained softly. ‘Doesn’t make sense why these people would want to hire me. I’m supposed to get a call back tonight to know for certain, but I really don’t wanna get my hopes up.’

Bradley started the jeep and clicked the indicator before turning left to get onto the road. He lifted his hand from the shift stick at the first red light and placed it tenderly on your knee. Your own hands came atop his and he gave your leg a squeeze. 

‘You might be overthinking it, Blossom,’ he said softly and with an equally soft smile. ‘I’ll tell you what, let’s go grab lunch and do some last minute shopping for the barbecue tonight. Don’t think about the call, don’t think about work and when they do call tonight, I’m one hundred percent sure it’ll be to confirm you’re hired.’

‘You think so?’

‘Like I said, hundred percent sure,’ Bradley assured you. ‘Do you want grab some Taco Bell then.’

You tilted your head and gave him a look that said do you need to even ask, making Bradley chuckle to himself as the traffic light turned green.

‘But we’ll have to get Amelia some too,’ you added. ‘She’ll smell it on us from a mile away and give us grief about not also getting her some.’

After a quick trip to Taco Bell, Bradley took you to the nearest park to eat your lunch. He stopped the Bronco near the edge of sprawling grass area where families and their children were enjoying the sunny day. The line of tall trees that surrounded the park casted a colourful shadow on the ground and allowed instant relief from the late summer heat. 

As the two of you got out of the car, you grabbed the paper bags and let Bradley helped you onto the hood of the Bronco. The metal was warm from sitting under the sun for so long but was not too uncomfortable to sit on. A gust of wind blew through the trees, rustling through Bradley’s half-opened shirt and cooling his heated skin a little. 

Bradley leaned back on his palms as he watched you take item after item from the take away bags and array them in a small feast. You scooted closer to him and threw your legs over his, stuffing some fries that were generously dipped in melted nacho cheese in your mouth before feeding him some too. 

Bradley hummed contentedly, taking your wrist in his hand and bringing your fingers to his mouth to suck on the spice that remained on your thumb. You choked out a half laugh, half gasp and he let your hand drop to his chest, grinning devilishly your way. 

‘Did I tell you you look gorgeous today?’ He asked softly. 

You playfully rolled your eyes, ‘Only ten times since this morning.’

‘Only? Man, I should’ve been into three-digit numbers by now, I’m falling behind.’

‘It’s okay, you can make up to me,’ you quipped, handing him a taco. Bradley took it from your hand but immediately put it down on his side as he instead placed his hand on your cheek and pulled you in. His lips pressed against yours without any urgency, just simple affection. 

Bradley pulled back just to leave a quick peck to the tip of your nose. ‘How’s that?’

‘Perfect,’ you sighed through a grin. You turned a little in your place to lean against Bradley’s chest and munched on a quesadilla. He took the taco you’d given him from the hood, unwrapped it and bit down on the crispy shell. 

The light shined through the tree canopy to paint your tangled legs in sunspots. The distant sound of laughter and dogs barking were still louder than cars driving outside the bounds of the park and submerged you both in a sense of calm.

Bradley pressed his nose to the crown of your head and smiled as the sweet aroma of your cocoa butter shampoo hit his senses. It also reminded him of rubbing said shampoo into your scalp earlier that day while your arms were lazily rubbing the loofah down his naked back and he was loathe to admit just how smug that memory made him. 

‘Can you believe it’s been four months already?’ You quietly asked. Bradley shook his head against yours and you leaned further into his touch. 

He could very easily believe it in fact, because he remembered each and every day he’d spend with you in his life, from your first meeting to this day. He’d made up a calendar in his mind and at the end of each night when he’d lay his head on the pillow and you’d curl around him like his very own koala bear, he’d blissfully cross out yet another date. 

You lifted your hand to his mouth again to feed him a couple more fries. ‘Feels like yesterday,’ you admitted through a smile. Bradley hummed, kissing the top of your head again to give his wordless agreement.

A couple of children that had been chasing a ball some distance away from the Bronco, kicked it close enough that it bumped the front left tyre. The two giggled as they skidded off to retreat it, drawing near the car and being momentarily distracted by your make-shift picnic. Bradley stifled a smile into your hair as you waved and warmly greeted the two kids. 

They waved back, but otherwise seemed more interested in the abundance of junk food you were surrounded by. They were quickly warded off by their parents who yelled at them to behave and don’t bother those nice people, Jeremy so they hastily retrieved the ball before running back towards the grassy knoll that was their playground. 

Bradley reached around you for the carton cup holder and offered you your drink before pulling out his. As he slurped the chilled Pepsi, he heard the soft sigh you let out as you noticeably turned your head against his shoulder. His hand that was holding the cup dropped down and he tilted his face so he could peer down at your pensive expression. 

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah… um, would you ever want one?’ You fully turned your face to look at him and your eyebrows scrunched adorably. ‘A kid, that is. I know we’ve never discussed it and I don’t know if you think that three months is too early to be talking about children.’

‘Yeah, I’d love to,’ he gently interrupted your worried rambling and your face visibly relaxed. ‘I’m guessing you do, too?’

‘I’ve always dreamed of it. Not yet though…’

‘Hey, there’s no rush.’

He caught the edge of your mouth drawing up in a smile as you turned your head back around to watch the tranquil park. Bradley rubbed your shoulder with his free hand and kissed your temple. 

Of course, he’d thought plenty about having children and as of these past few months, he’d started to picture that life with you. He agreed with you that it was still very early in your relationship, but that didn’t stop his brain from delving into those deep caverns in his consciousness that contained all his desires of a happy, family life. A couple, maybe three kids — you’d always have final say on that subject — and maybe a dog, he’d always wanted a dog. 

‘Bradley,’ you softly called his name and he hummed in response, prompting you to continue. ‘If I manage to get a job—’

‘When you get the job,’ he corrected, still firm in his decision that this last interview had been a success and you were simply overthinking it.

‘Okay, okay.’ His whispered good girl was met with a tiny noise of appreciation as you wiggled your shoulder against him and looked back up at him. ‘When I get the job…’ Bradley bobbed his head in a nod and smiled around the straw of his cup, ‘where do you want us to live? Because we’re still mostly living at Penny’s, but we’ve been to your place on base a couple of times.’

‘And you hated it,’ Bradley chuckled at the memory of the first time he took you to his assigned flat on North island and the thoroughly unimpressed face you pulled when he parked the Bronco in the driveway.

‘I didn’t exactly hate it,’ you argued. ‘It’s just… there’s no place for me to do gardening and that’s a deal breaker for me.’

Bradley nodded along.

‘I wanted to know what you thought. If you wanna move fully into that flat, then I’ll just get pots and grow herbs in the kitchen. That’s good enough for me.’

But that wouldn’t be enough for him; Bradley wanted whichever place you ended up living in to be as much yours as it was his. He didn’t want you to make that big of a compromise because he knew how much you loved tending to plants. Pots of herbs in the kitchen were fine by him, but not as your only source of diversion. 

There was also the subject of his work and the general sense of uncertainty that came with it. How long would he be stationed on North island with the rest of the Dagger squadron? His last stint at the Golden Warriors lasted about five years and the only way they’d let him stick to his current location was if he married. Which wasn’t an altogether bad idea, just a little early for him to be popping the question. No matter how much it suddenly appealed to him…

‘Here’s my plan.’ You settled your hands in your lap as you patiently waited for him to elaborate. ‘Let’s wait for you to start the job, see how you feel there the first two or three weeks, and we can start looking for some place in the area. And we’re getting a house with a sufficient garden space so you can do your magic, that’s a deal breaker for me as well. What do you think?’

Bradley felt his heart swell with joy when he saw the excited smile that grew on your lips before you planted them briefly on his and your delicate hand rested against his chest. Just above where the thumping organ was making every effort to jump right out of him and land in your palm. 

‘I think it’s a wonderful plan,’ you admitted quietly after parting your lips from his. ‘Let’s just see if they actually hire me before we set anything into motion.’

‘They will hire you!’ Bradley argued and you laughed in response. He shook his head. ‘Oh, I’ll try really hard not to gloat when you get the call back to confirm it.’

‘Alright, alright,’ you poked his ticklish side, making Bradley convulse and let out a very high-pitched shriek. He took your by the arms — ever gentle whenever he held you — hoisted you over his lap and dig his fingers just below your left armpit where he knew you to have a very soft spot.

You squealed with laughter as he tickled you and wiggled against his arms without the actual desire for him to let you go. Bradley stilled his hands against your side, his fingers dropping down to hold onto your waist as your giggling quieted down. You grinned up at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Bradley lowered his face, his mouth ghosting against yours and leaving a trail of gooseflesh wherever he almost left a kiss. 

‘Bradley.’ 

Your sigh of his name was perhaps one of his favourite sounds, made him positively feral. 

Bradley lowered his mouth to your neck and felt you twitch against his chest when his moustache rubbed against the soft skin, just below the line of your jaw. Your mouth opened by his ear for another soft sigh to come out out, impale his senses and drive all the blood from his body down to his cock. Your reaction to feeling him grow harder beneath your ass was instantaneous and you chuckled somewhat triumphantly.

‘Why do I feel like I’m winning at this despite you having me pinned down,’ you purred against the shell of his ear and Bradley felt a full body tremor go through him when your hot breath brushed his skin. 

‘It’s ‘cause I’d let you win at anything.’ His soft admittance was muted against the slope of your neck where he began sucking a small, but evident enough love bite. 

‘Now where’s the fairness and gen- gender equality in that?’ Your response came shakier than you probably intended; what you did next was to slowly lift your chin up and allow him more access. 

When Bradley pulled back to examine his work — the nice round red shape that was partially covered up by the collar of your blouse — he felt warmth rush to his face and neck at the sight. Leaving a love bite like that was so horribly base and primal, but something about it was mildly arousing. Mine, it claimed and a deeply embarrassed groan rumbled in his chest. 

Bradley dropped his forehead on your shoulder. You softly laughed, ‘Aw, what’s wrong, Mr Big-Strong-Navy-Man?’

He loved your teasing. The first time it happened was like the sun had come out and he was seeing you differently, not in a bad way but in a wow-my-girlfriend-is-fucking-amazing kind of way. 

‘As much as I’d enjoy you marking me like that,’ you began softly and made Bradley lift his head to look at you. ‘I’d much rather you do that when there aren’t any children nearby.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley nodded and kissed the tip of your nose. ‘Maybe I should’ve also waited till after the barbecue, huh?’

You hummed and tried to peek at the small red love bite. ‘I dunno. Isn’t that kind of the point of it, show it off?’

There was a humorous lilt to your voice yet it sounded so serious that Bradley’s breath hitched. If you really wanted it he’d leave all the love bites he could, in every place on your beautiful body where you wanted him to. His impassioned thoughts were momentarily ceased as you held up a finger.

‘And though I’d love to continue, we really need to get going if we want to beat the traffic and make a pit stop at the supermarket.’

‘You’re right,’ Bradley said again as he helped you off of the hood of the jeep. 

You smirked up at him as you gathered the left over paper bags from your lunch. ‘You know, I’m really starting to like the sound of that.’

‘I bet you do, princess.’

You bumped your hip against his and stuck your tongue out before skipping off to the nearest bin to dispose of the trash. Bradley simply leaned against the Bronco and watched you with a half grin and eyes that were trying their best not to stare at your ass as you walked away from him. With you he discovered just how true hate to see you leave, but love to watch you go was.

Frankie’s red Subaru, Hangman’s vintage Ford Mustang and Fanboy’s Toyota were already parked in a perfect line along the curb outside of Penny’s house when the two of you got there. The sun was getting lower and lower on the other side of the two-storey homes that lined the street and the sky was replacing its soft blue hue for an intense shade of pink and orange with only the occasional wisp of a cloud breaking the continuity.

Bradley turned right into the driveway and killed the engine right behind Penny’s jeep, before grabbing the few shopping bags that were sitting on the back seat.

He took a second to take in the look and size of it, a bit narrow in the leg room but still very much specious. He thought that it could potentially hold a couple of booster seats if he—

‘Bradley, baby, are you coming?’ 

Yeah, maybe he should definitely give those thoughts a rest for now. No use in getting ahead of himself even if the seed was now planted in his mind and there was no way it’d die out with how generously you were cultivating it. Especially with how absolutely ravishing you looked in that outfit.

Bradley jogged around the car with the bags in hand. You offered to take at least one or two of them to help out but he refused, suggesting you head on upstairs if you wanted to change. You kissed his cheek and reminded him to put the cupcakes you two bought in the fridge lest the icing became more like sludge. 

Bradley made a beeline for the kitchen after he watched you rush upstairs and disposed the bags onto the island. He could now clearly hear voices and music coming from outside. The steady hum of the cicada song accompanied them in what sounded like a perfect evening to finish off summer before autumn began. 

As he was moving things to cupboards or to the fridge, Bradley could distinctly make out Fanboy and Bob’s heated discussion about the team’s plans for Halloween which meant that summer was truly done. Next, they’ll probably have to think about Christmas decorations. 

Bradley smiled at the thought of spending Christmas with you, spending any holiday with you really. Made him excited about things he’d spent years avoiding because they used to remind him of just how much he’d lost. But now he had you and the rest of his odd little family which made him eagerly expect the upcoming holidays. 

‘Hey, Rooster!’

Bradley turned to see Maverick walk into the kitchen through the back door. He waved at his godfather as he walked up to the pantry in search of something. He muttered under his nose before poking his head out.

‘Did you get cumin by any chance?’

Bradley lifted a small jar with a small grin and carefully tossed it at the older man who easily caught it.

‘Sorry, we’re late, we grabbed some lunch and lost track of time,’ Bradley explained as he folded the shopping bags and put them in their allocated cupboard underneath the countertop. Maverick waved a hand dismissively.

‘That’s alright. Hangman and I just started putting the, uh… vegan sausages on the grill. Any news from the job interview?’

‘They’ll be calling her by the end of today,’ Bradley told him. ‘She’s a little anxious they’ll turn her down, but I think this might be it.’

‘I looked them up online, they do some really cool stuff,’ Maverick explained, reached into the fruit bowl. ‘Do you think orange goes well with beef?’

‘It does. Blossom took me to a Thai restaurant the other week and we had some amazing orange beef skewers.’

‘Alright, I’ll get Coyote to add this to the marinate at the end so we can try it out. Oh, I actually wanted to give you something,’ Maverick put the oranges back down on the counter before reaching into the pocket of his bomber jackets. He pulled his hand out, revealing a small navy blue box with velveteen lining. A ring box. 

Bradley looked at his godfather with a slightly bemused expression. ‘Mav, I’m flattered, but I’m half your age and you’re kinda like my uncle.’

‘Very funny, Rooster. Open it.’

Maverick pushed the box towards him and Bradley obligingly opened it up. He paused when in the middle of the cushioned inside sat two rings that he was very familiar with. The smaller one — a thin golden band with a single zirconium rock at the head — had rested on the finger of a hand that held his. A hand that ruffled his hair each morning as a greeting. A hand that he’d cherished like his life.

The larger ring — a simple wide band with no embellishments — he vaguely recalled on someone else’s hand but throughout his younger years, it used to hang at the end of a very long chain, along with two dog tags.

His mother and father’s wedding rings. 

Bradley slowly looked up at Maverick whose eyes were still on the box, glistening with mournful tears. He smiled tightly and cleared his throat. 

‘These’s, uh… your mom made me promise I’d keep them safe for you,’ Mav explained tensely. ‘Thought it be a pretty good time to give them to you.’

Bradley’s throat closed up as he nodded in understanding, clutching the box tighter in his hand. ‘Thanks, Mav. I— Blossom and I just talked about moving in together into our own place, once she gets the job… these might be a little early.’

Maverick huffed, ‘I know, I know. I’m just really happy for you two, kids. Thought I’d just pass these along as instructed. Who knows… your dad proposed to your mom by the third month of their relationship and that was considered an extremely long courtship in 1985.’

Bradley grinned and swallowed down the sudden influx of emotion that threatened to spill out of him. He carefully closed the box and pocketed it just in time as the sound of your feet pattering down the stairs reached his ears. 

‘They called! Oh my god, they called!’

You appeared at the entrance of the kitchen in his UVA sweatshirt and a pair of black bike shorts. Bradley looked at you in excitement, waiting for you to reveal what he already knew. He could see it in your wide, elated eyes. 

Your bare feet padded against the wooden floor as you ran up to Bradley and engulfed him in a hug, your arms wrapping around his middle. 

‘I’m hired! You were right, I’m hired!’

‘That’s great, baby!’ Bradley kissed the top of your head, his chest filling with instant pride. He didn’t doubt for a second you’d make it even after all the rejections you got from from previous places. He knew that was the place for you.

‘Congratulations, kiddo!’ Maverick came around the island to pat you on the shoulder as you lifted your head off of Bradley’s chest. Your eyes were glistening and the smile wouldn’t fall off your lips whatever happened. He loved seeing you like this, without a single worry hanging over your head. 

Bradley kept one hand on the lower of your back as you pulled away. You took a deep breath to calm down but it was obvious that you were too exhilarated. You looked between Bradley and Maverick.

‘Did I interrupt a conversation?’

‘No, no,’ Bradley hurried to assure you.

‘I was just grabbing something for the marinade,’ Maverick added. He grabbed the oranges from the island countertop and made for the back door. ‘Bradley, grab a six-pack from the fridge and let’s head out.’

‘Be there in a second,’ he told his godfather before turning back to you. You smiled up at him and stood up on your toes to give him a kiss, arms coming about his shoulders to pull him closer. Bradley let his own arms wrap again around your waist and rub soft circles though the material of the sweatshirt. 

The two of your separated after a moment and Bradley nuzzled his nose against yours, drawing a soft giggle from your mouth. Your fingers clutched at the lapels of his shirt. 

‘I’m so proud of you, Blossom.’ 

‘It’s unreal,’ you admitted shyly. ‘I feel like I need to pinch myself.’

Bradley shook his head. ‘It’s real and you deserve it. Did they say when you start?’

‘Monday next week,’ you told him. ‘I’ll get my own office in their building, but they’ll need me to jump on a project that their previous horticultural expert left. Can you believe it? They said that my knowledge puts me at expert level!’

‘Okay, so we have the whole weekend to celebrate your new title, Madam Horticultural expert.’

You chuckled and playfully slapped his chest.

‘Come on now.’ Bradley jogged to the fridge to pull out a six pack of Budweiser before taking your hand and walked you towards the backyard. ‘My girlfriend got a cool new job and I need to brag about he to all my friends.’

‘Alright then, Lieutenant.’

Bradley grinned widely, an expression was reflected on your own face as he pushed the door open and called out to everybody, ‘Blossom got the job!’

The exclamation was met with loud cheering from the squadron that was at different ends of the garden space.

The picnic table was extended by another small circular table and more chair were added around it to fit the big party. Bob, Fanboy, Payback and Amelia were sitting around the main table, playing Uno which Amelia was seemingly winning to the three men’s dismay. Coyote was mixing up marinade at a foldable table next to the grill with Hangman hanging over his shoulder and giving unnecessary instructions that his boyfriend who was pointedly ignoring them. Penny was making her way over to you and Bradley with Frankie and Phoenix in toe to congratulate you.

Bradley made room for the three other women by taking a small step back, but lingered by your side as he was too happy to even think of going anywhere else. He wanted to stay by your side and see that look of joy on your face every day for as long as he lived. 

The box in his cargo shorts weighed down and its importance was not missed by him. Bradley patted it, promising himself to hide it well tonight. He already knew he’d spend the rest of his life with you, he already knew he’d want to have children with you. But if he was going to do it, he wanted it to be a perfect moment. 

Tonight was such a moment, but he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he took away the spotlight from your achievement. You deserved all the praise that your aunt and your friends were showering over you as you swatted them away, humbly promising that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Bradley felt your fingers thread through his as you pulled him with you to follow the other three women to the picnic table. The two of you were directed to a foldable loveseat by a very smug Phoenix who kept eyeing your neck. 

‘Can we can start looking for our own place?’ You asked him as soon you were both sat down. 

Bradley reached for two bottles of Bud and handed you one. ‘Yeah, I don’t see a reason why not.’

You smiled brightly as you looked up at him. Bradley wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you closer to himself. Neither of you knew it at that time but the same thought came to your minds as you watched the other; wherever life took you, wherever you lived, that place would be home because it’s what you and Bradley were to each other. 

Home.

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tags: @gretagerwigsmuse @jupitercomet @youlightmeupfinn @craftymoonchaos @the-winter-marvel33 @agent-jbarnes @blahehblah @katieshook02 @amysteryspot @daisyhollyxox @marantha @piceous21 @mak-32 @twoosinrooster @adoringsebstan @everyoneslovechild @shityoudidntaskfor @alluringshawn @marsontoast @lemur46 @taytaylala12 @benhardysdrumstick @strangeangelflapsuitcase @shanimallina87 @beachesandboats @ishipit1420 @machsachds @wishfulhope (crossed over names are people I wasn't able to tag, sorry)

[byullielle]

Don't Say Yes // Affianced!Bang Chan x Fem!Reader

Speak Now (Taylor's Version), Taylor Swift—lyrics would be pulled directly to be used in the fic. y/n interrupts and objects to chan's wedding after being arranged for marriage with an unbearable and manipulative chaebol bride. y/n and 7 of their friends save him; and in the process gives chan the one he was looking for all along

Tags: Objection to a Marriage, Drama, Light Angst, Swearing, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: dialogue heavy + kinda lacks chan actually (i am so sorry), reader centric, swearing, it can get frustrating, you and the 7 kids get into a short argument, the bride nearly hurts reader, implied abusive family members (grandmother), legal terms are discussed but ultimately thrown out the window, not as well written as i'd like, heads-up, I'll think about posting a thorough one on AO3 but it isn't likely.

click on the pictures for clearer resolution. divider used is by: @emptypetal

Removing your coat and hanging it up on the couch in Hyunjin's living room, furrowing your brows at the 7 men gathered around the kitchen table. "Is this about Chan leaving our group chat? You guys know it isn't that serious right?" you chuckle nervously at the tense atmosphere, "It isn't about that," Changbin says glumly. Seungmin, in all his antsiness, speaks up and lets it slip, "Chan is getting married in two months,"

And you laugh. You couldn't help but let out an awkward and slightly forced laugh. "What the fuck?" you raise your brow at him but nobody was laughing with you. Not even Jeongin who usually cannot hold it in whenever they pulled a prank on you. Your face drops, approaching them as Minho slaps a bunch of scented paper and a gold envelope on the table. "When was the last time you checked your mailbox?"

"Like, two days ago," you respond, tongue dry, almost terrified to look. If it was real it would tear you inside out, because it has been two weeks since Chan cut off contact from you and the others, thinking he just needed time to think and recollect himself for inspiration but you were wrong.

Marriage? It was almost unbelievable to you, mostly because of your obvious and unsaid feelings for your best friend. You were in love with Cristopher Bang and kept quiet about it, it was something that couldn't sink in for you that he'd be married so hastily, without even a proper bride in mind.

With shaky hands, you pick up the first page of pungent, rose-scented paper and force yourself to read. 'Save The Date! With Christopher Bang and Soo-ah Kim, witness as they lovingly exchange nuptials,' your hands tremble slightly, putting the paper back down before looking up to see the grim faces looking right at your every move.

"Wh- Why didn't I know?" you squeak out, suddenly weak to your knees as Hyunjin pulls out a chair for you and ushers you to sit down, hand on your forehead as you stare at the paper like it'll catch flames with just a glare.

"None of us did," Changbin bitterly spits out, "I only received the invitation yesterday. I'm only a guest, all of Chan's best men are either distant cousins or relatives of the bride,"

"And I got word from Hannah that he's currently stranded in Jeju, his grandmother's property doesn't have signal and he's pretty much trapped there," Felix explains, "Y/N, what do we do?"

You didn't know you were holding a breath in, absolutely frustrated at the information slowly piling up. This couldn't happen, this wasn't happening. You were just about to tell Chan how you feel, not suddenly send him off to a wedding. Your chest tightens, unable to pull a coherent through out of your noisy brain, the buzzing sounds of your friends talking intelligible in the background, heart beating so hard against your chest you're slightly scared it'll suddenly stop.

It gets noisy. You could vaguely heart Changbin shouting over Minho and Hyunjin yelping about. It was a bit too much for you to handle as you slam your hand down the table, crumpling the invitation in the process.

""Everyone shut up!" you yell out as the others look at you in shock and your breath hitches against your throat. You whip your head towards Felix's direction, his question finally anchoring itself in your brain as you glare, "Why does it rely on me?" it comes out a bit more sharply than you intended, making him tense up.

"What? Aren't you in love with Channie hyung..?" he trails off before he sees the irritation seeping into your eyes. "Are you implying that my feelings are something you could use to stop a wedding?" you snap at him.

"No, of course not!" he stands up as well, a bit worked up. "I'm saying that once Chan hyung finds out about your feelings he'd change his mind about the wedding," he explains before Minho raises a brow, "Wait I thought he didn't have a say in the wedding? I thought we brought Y/N here to collectively think about how to pull him out of that situation,"

"Thank you!" you exasperatedly point at Minho, "You're putting me in the spotlight here like I'm the only one who doesn't want Chan to be involved in this wedding!"

Changbin's chair scratches loudly against the tile, "You're meaning to tell us that it seems like we don't value Chan?!"

"I didn't say that!"

And then there was more and more shouting.

Changbin started talking over you, ranting about how you seem like emotional connections won't pull a groom out a wedding while you argued that it isn't "that simple", Seungmin calling you out for being selfish that you absolutely would allow anything to the point where you'd rid the love of your life a chance to know about your feelings while you counter that they're the selfish ones for ever implying that in that way you don't care about Chan, and they don't care about you—seen as only a turning point for Chan.

It was chaos.

"Fine!" you throw your hands up before storming off the living room and grabbing your things, "I'm the selfish one? Then so be it. Do it without me," you threaten but hesitate at the sight of heartbreak on all their faces, the frustration on Bin's face and the tears streaking Hyunjin's face.

You storm out of the apartment, all kinds of feelings stirring within you as you take heavy breathes in and out just so that you don't end up crying while driving back home.

Your heart was breaking and of course, you're left to pick the pieces up yourself. You were terrible to your friends, and worse, you were going to complete lose Chan in two months.

Getting home, you storm into your room nervously, fidgeting about while opening and closing your phone to apologize to them, the guilt now eating you out alive. You bounce on your heels while you look out the window, trying to clear your head pacing around until a small, pink envelope catches the corner of your eye.

Nestled between a book, and a pen atop of it, your eyes widen and heart cracks a bit more. It was your confession letter to Chan.

Pouring your now shattered heart into that letter tucked between the paper material wasn't the easiest, always on the verge of tears and embarrassment but sealing it into finality gave you relief. One that was so coldly snatched out of your hands bare. You shakily pick it up and grab your letter opener, one shitty gag gift from Seungmin 4 Christmases ago—and you open it back up.

Affection spills into the paper, scratches of black ink prominent against the palest pink of papers. Signed at the bottom and expressing your growing, uncontainable feelings for Christopher Bang. It was all so much yet lacking at the same time. Your heart squeezes at the thought of someone else on the aisle with him, someone else to call home and to marry. You couldn't take it.

You open your phone to apologize before it buzzes against your hand and then an influx of notifications flood—leading you to mute your device.

You close your eyes and breathe in, trying to think rationally about your next steps. "One day," you resoundingly tell yourself in a moment of finality, "I'll respond after one whole day,"

You say you're ready to do anything for him but there's a small part of your brain nagging you to be scared. To doubt if he'll really come to your defense. But everytime it crosses your mind, you force your eyes to look at the unsealed love letter—and a new one freshly written—beside each other.

You know Chan loves you too.

For years you've convinced yourself that it's just him being indifferent but after a night out of him being drunk and you being as sober as the day you were born, you eventually had to carry information more precious than anything in this earth. It was the occasional insecurity that drove you to denial but now that you were standing by the chasm of your feelings and his', driven against a corner there was the ultimatum laid upon you.

And you did tell Changbin that you'd rather risk 2 years of jail rather than 10 for breaking and entering, quite possibly aggravated assault just to get to talk to Chan.

And as the days passed by, you stand in your light periwinkle dress given by Felix, handpicked by Olivia and Rachel as your hands tremble while it runs down the tulle fabric of the skirt. It didn't look too inconspicuous or obvious, which was exactly the look you were going for.

Changbin enters the hotel room you guys pitched in to stay in as he looks at you up and down, "You look like a bride's maid,"

"Is that a bad thing?" you nervously fidget with the bracelet attached to your wrist, slowly and increasingly getting antsier by the second. "No. But Chan's grandmother knows what you look like since apparently he has never shut up about you since getting hitched," he explains, "I heard it from one of his cousins who kindly relayed a word in for hyung, although I'm still not allowed to enter the groom's suite,"

"We have a wig to conceal her hair," Hyunjin helpfully supplies while getting dressed. Out of the 7, Changbin was the only groomsman chosen, the rest were mere guests which none of you had expected for Chan's wedding.

Minho clicks his tongue, "Fuck, then it really is a wedding objection,"

"The letter?" you hopefully turn to Changbin as he clears his throat, "I slipped it under his door while the dude guarding it was talking to another family member,"

Felix pops his head from the bathroom, "What was in that letter?" he asks. You shrug and offer him a nervous, tight-lipped smile, "Dunno,"

"Tease," he rolls his eyes. Despite the joking you 8 try to do, it was ultimately futile, the tension in the room too overbearing to try and alleviate it with a few jokes.

Changbin leaves first, called by the rest of the entourage. After an excruciating hour, Jeongin looks at his watch before gulping down, "Guys...I think it's time," he announces as everyone scrambles to their feet, Felix taking your hand before squeezing it in solidarity.

You look up at him, nodding with fire and passion in your eyes, brows furrowed— "Let's do this,"

The way to the venue was enough to make your knees lock up, ridgid against Felix's hold as he tries to make you loosen up a bit more, even being knocked down and tickled slightly by Seungmin. You pass by the bride yelling at one of the bridesmaid in the bridal suite, making you wince. She looked like a damn tiered cake in the worst way possible, along with the horrific screeching spilling from the doorway.

"God I can't believe he's marrying that," Minho bitterly mutters under his breath, the eight of you walking along the pews as casually as possible, making sure to not expose your face too much with a fan pressed to your nose. "I'm gonna throw up," you mutter under your breath as Jeongin taps on the back of your hand.

"We promise, if something goes wrong, we'll never desert you,"

"I'll count on it," you smile softly. The venue was a grand chapel, guests filing in the pews but nobody in close association to Chan except for the eight of you. Your heart couldn't help but sting at the thought of Chan going through such great mental turmoil being forced into a marriage. You don't know what prompted this but you trusted in Bin's word that he didn't want this, perse.

And then it starts. The organ plays, the officiant walking the aisle to make it to the podium, Bible and documents on hand as the others start to do the procession. First came the sponsors, then Chan's grandmother (the old wench), then the bride's whoevers—most you don't even know. Then next was Chan's groomsmen, his distant relatives, then Changbin. His eyes scan over before spotting you near the front as he nods, encouraging you one last time.

And then your breath hitches at your throat. A glum look washes over Jessica and Jack (Chan's parents) as they walk the aisle right after the Bride's parents. And in comes the groom. He was dressed in a black and white tuxedo, purple and gold lining his blazer, and it took your breath away to the point of Jisung having to remind you to breath with a tap of his pinky against yours.

Chan looked tired, one could say miserable, but he still managed to look good. And it frustrated you so, not being able to see him as your groom, at your wedding.

He gets up to the podium and your eyes suddenly meet. You can tell he hesitates and makes sure his eyes don't widen as you shoot him a look that you cam only hope he interprets as 'I am not giving you up,'

Then it starts playing. The bride's march plays and rings through the chapel—sounding like it was made for your funeral, a deathmarch of sorts. The bride's dress is wide and eccentric, a huge bouquet in her hand as she saunters down the aisle slowly, like she was a pageant queen. Last thing she has to do was wave her gloved hand around but you bit your tongue.

The officiant waits for her to arrive, before all of you and the other guests take a seat. You could see the hesitance in Chan's body language as his bride to be pulls him closer a bit forcefully.

He announces the start of the wedding, and you're starting to get terrified that there might not be any chance for you to object, hanging by the side of your seat as Bin glances over at you nervously.

Your sweat starts to bead at your forehead, gulping down the nervousness as you redirect your brain to where it always looked when the doubtful thoughts lingered. You love Chan, and a letter, his presence and yours in his own wedding was testament to that.

However, after reading a few expletives and guidelines, the officiant clears his throat, "If anyone objects to this marriage," he calls out, as if directly talking to you, "Speak now or forever hold your peace,"

And then there was silence. And that was your chance, your last chance—you stand up with shaky hands and then;

All eyes are on you. Horrified looks from everyone in the room but you're only looking at him, never taking your eyes off Chan's—shellshocked beyond belief. And then you open your mouth

"Don't say yes or wait or say a single vow," you look to the officiant, "You need to hear me out,"

He glances at Chan and says, "Speak now,"

"I am not the kind of girl, who should be rudely barging in on a while veil occasion but you!" you point at Chan with desperation before letting your arm fall to you side, "Are not the kind of boy, who should be marrying the wrong girl,"

An uproar starts as the bride looks over to you, fuming. And like a bull in a China shop, you stare directly into her eyes. She grabs one of the candle stands near her and Changbin gets ready to block her attack from you but before she could strike, Chan rushes to you.

He grabs your wrist, a glint of hope in his eyes, before he pulls you with him. Both of you make a run for it, Felix was right for you to not wear heels, darting towards the church doors before anyone could catch up and process what was happening.

"What are you doing?!" Chan's grandmother smacks the side of Chan's father as he winces but stays in his place, glaring at his own mother, "I told you," he hisses, "You can do whatever you want but so could he,"

She was fuming, red in the face as the bride breaks down in humiliation. "Do something about your son!"

"Eomma!" he couldn't help but raise his voice, "Do not take away Chan's last chance to love," he warns, "Do not make him resent you even further if you don't want any regrets in your life,"

Chan keeps on running until you make it to the gardens of the church, far from the wedding chapel as you both catch your breaths, hands on your knees while huffing heavily. He pulls something out of his pocket inside his suit before waving around the preciously folded pink letter Changbin helped you slip in, "Is that what you meant?" he laughs in disbelief, written in ink:

I know a world you wish it was me, don't you? Don't say yes. Run away now, I'll meet you when you're out of the church at the back door.

You gasp out with a laugh, "If you think I was letting you get married? Not in my watch Christopher Bang," you stand up straight before stepping closer towards him, "I can never, ever, let you go," you confess, "Ever since then, you're the only one I've loved, Chris. I would've died if I didn't get to tell you that ever," you confess.

Before you could even get an answer, you feel two strong hands cupping your cheeks as he surges forward and presses his lips against yours. You make a surprised sound but ultimately hook your hands on the back of his neck, pulling him closer and slotting your lips together flush and perfectly, you get kiss drunk immediately. You part for air, tears starting to well up your eyes until you see him fully crying.

"Oh god," he mutters, pulling you into his arms as you feel his chest erratically vibrate, "Y/N, I love you so much. I love you so so so much, for the longest time ever," he gasps out despite his tears before pulling away and cupping your face into his hands, "And I want it to be in every world, for it to be you,"

You finally let your tears fall before you pull him into another kiss, relief, adrenaline and pure, unbridled love flowing and coursing through your veins as you smile against his lips. "I love you," he whispers, barely pulling back this time before pecking you again.

"So glad you were around when they said speak now,"

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