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aakeysmash · 17 days

Text

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

#sukuna jjk #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #sukuna x y/n #sukuna fic #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you

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whorediaries-09 · 22 days

Note

I’ve been thinking alotttt about rivals! Remy where him and r have been hooking up but the r starts gaining feelings for rem and distants herself but rem is just like “what the hell?” And then they like admit their feelings when rem corners her one day curious😩

i'm sorry this took so long, but i hope you like this!!

friends;

pairing- remus lupin x reader warning(s)- cigarettes, alludes to sex, hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- academic rivals to lovers is so precious to me you don't understand.

little train

' girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone i'm not ready, eyes heavy now,'

'i can't believe i've to work with your pathetic ass,' he rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. your eyes wandered over to the burn marks on them, probably from all the joints he smoked. you could hear his friends laughing behind his back. even peter, the quietest and the most tolerable of the lot, was laughing. you scowled, tilting your head to meet his eyes,

'i don't remember you saying that last night. you said i've a perfect ass. maybe you have a problem of short term memory loss?' in an instant, you saw his cheeks reddening and eyes widening comically when he registered your words. his hand slapped upon your mouth, trying to shut you up.

he received a flying paper ball on his head. he turned his head around to find sirius waving his index finger at him

'not in class, moony.' he said, as peter tried not to laugh. he was measuring the ingredients written on the blackboard.

'hello my lovely students!' slughorn's overly cheery voice rang throughout the classroom. the class sang him a dull good morning. it was winter after all, most of the students wanted nothing but to snuggle up in bed within the folds of their cozy blankets drinking hot chocolate. the only energetic person was sirius, and he sang,

'good morning sluggy!' slughorn knitted his eyebrows together at the nickname but didn't say anything.

'good morning, mr. black. i see you've preferred to follow the rules for once and sit on the desk assigned to you.' sirius shrugged his shoulders, batting his eyelashes.

'you and i, we're the best matchmakers, mr. slughorn. we're a team,' what he meant, the saints knew. perhaps that would be taking a step too far, because by the slight smirk on slughorn's face, he knew what sirius meant.

'mr. black, i prefer the student and professor dynamics between us better,' he replied, scratching his eyebrow with his fingernail. sirius groaned mockingly.

'okay class, settle down. we're making amortentia today.' raising your hand, you questioned,

'the love potion?'

'yes, exactly the love potion. of course no magic is as powerful to be able to imitate real love. however, it does create a powerful infatuation, with the person who gave it to the drinker. the scent varies based on what the person likes. it's a very complicated potion to make, but anyone who makes the perf-'

his speech was interrupted by a famished lily evans who was as red as her hair and a grinning james potter. her tie was loose, dangling off her collar and his hair was ruffled. lily's usually nicely ironed uniform was full of wrinkles.

'oh wow! head boy and head girl late to class!' slughorn scowled. by the look on his face, however, he was regretting his choice to let the ever infatuated james potter and the stubborn lily evans sit together.

'just sit down the both of you!' he scolded and they entered the classroom, lily's bag almost spilling parchment and ink bottles. slughorn coughed and continued,

'so as i was saying, who ever makes the perfect love potion gets-' he put his hand into his pocket, pulling out a little bottle full of a clear liquid. '-this. can anyone tell me what this is?'

'felix felicis.' sirius said. further words conversation wasn't recorded by your mind when remus bent down, whispering in your ear,

'do you think they hooked up?' you eyes widened as you looked at him. your eyes unconsciously travelled down to his chapped lips. the taste still remained on your tongue.

'do you like- actually think before speaking? james potter and lily evans hooking up! lily would rather die, he hates the guy.' remus shrugged his shoulder, a small smirk on his lips.

'i mean, look at us, we hate each other but the other day you wouldn't let me stop eating you out-'

'oh please shut up! just get the fucking ingredients!' he smiled, as you try to hide your face with you hair, suddenly very intrigued by your book.

'okay madam,' he said, mock saluting.

after a lot of banter and distractions you ended up with a potion which only looked seconds away from an explosion. there was certainly no 'mother of pearl' sheen or any rising steam in a characteristic spiral. even pearl dust couldn't save the disaster of a potion.

'oh god why did i have to work with you!' you gripped your hair with your fingers, almost pulling them off as you sat down on the chair, chewing on your lip.

'my grades will go down!' you snapped. he turned around, a wince on his face.

'so will mine. this shit is team work and if your grades go down, so will mine.' he stated. you rolled your eyes as he sat down beside you, his palm on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

'i shouldn't be comforting my academic rival but guess if you low, i go lower.' your ears perked up at the term. 'academic rival.' he didn't even consider you a friend. that's all you were to him, an academic rival, a benchmark to cross, a quick fuck when he was tired. you gulped slowly. suddenly, your throat felt very dry. you stared into his eyes, trying to decipher something, but trust god to give remus lupin the most dead eyes known to mankind.

'ohhh! we have a winner!' slughorn's voice pulled you from your thoughts. your head snapped to the source of commotion, expecting to find lily to be the winner- but it was sirius.

'mr. black, this felix felicis is yours,' he threw a charming grin to all the flushed young ladies and lads as his fingers wrapped around the little bottle. most of the girls and boys almost swooned at his antics, and some could be found a few seconds from fainting when he winked.

'get it padfoot!' james cheered. lily disapprovingly hit james' head with her book. james scowled.

'i want everybody to come and tell me what they smell in here. let's start with mr. black,' he smiled, staring at the eager faces of the young ladies and lads who surrounded him as if he was a trophy.

'i smell petrol, rain and my favorite tea. i can also smell..uh cherry flavored shampoo, and my cologne.' it was nothing very interesting. neither of them used cherry shampoo. and it wasn't just a flying rumor that sirius black rode a motorcycle.

'ah, good, good.' slughorn praised, patting his back. his eyes wandered about in the room before they stopped at your direction.

'okay yes, now you,' he said, instructing you to smell the potion. internally you called him an old cow. externally you smiled, a little more than actually required, and too fake to be a real smile. no comments were passed when you walked up to the front of the classroom, smelling the potion.

'ah- so i smell parchment, ink, coffee, vanilla....cigarettes and dark chocolate.' you stumbled upon your words when you found remus looking at you intently. you tried to ignore the burning gaze and how the blood rushed into your cheeks. slughorn coughed slightly,

'okay, now next student!' he clapped his hands together, trying to cut through the sudden tension in the room. you moved away from the smoking cauldron, walking towards your chair. sitting down, you pondered.

cigarettes? damn you, you hated cigarettes! you'd been reluctant to try one for the first time, but trust remus to roll you the perfect blunt and manipulate you to try it in the best way possible. you remembered coughing up the smoke onto his face.

dark chocolate? sure you enjoyed it here and there but it wasn't certainly something you loved. you wanted to rip out your hair.

the realization had been lingering upon your head from the last few weeks, but you didn't want to act upon it. a lot of people mistake lust for love. you were a teenager high on hormones, hooking up with remus lupin, your biggest academic rival- of course you were bound to mistake lust for life.

perhaps the heated kisses within the shadows of dark nights, the way his hands lingered upon your body, making you feel alive as he touched you down to your core, the heat crawling under your skin, dizzying your mind, the way he begged to touch you, to feel you meant more than just lust. perhaps it was closeted love. but it didn't mean good news. having a crush was fine, but falling for remus john lupin was bad news. it meant heartbreak, a new rumor for the nosy students of hogwarts.

so you did the best thing that came in your mind to maintain your feelings and keep your heart in control. it wouldn't be very effective, considering remus was your partner in potions for the year, but you'd try your best. no hooking up, just necessary conversations. all you had to do was ignore him. the less you saw him, the better.

remus looked up to your face, his sweaty strands of hair sticking onto his forehead. his calloused hands gripped your waist as he thrust his hips upwards. you bent down, brushing his lips against yours. you held down his hands, pinning them above his head. he tried to crane his neck to kiss your lips, but you didn't allow him holding his hands tighter.

slowly, torturously slow you started rotating your hips. he arched his back, moaning your name, his fingers trying to grasp the fabric of the head board.

'god, you feel so fucking good,' he moaned. you smirked, your tongue swiping over your teeth.

'i know,'

suddenly, his face started to distort, and he started laughing at you. weird, that is not how you remembered that night. he was jerking you, before everything went hazy and your vision started blackening and you saw a tunnel of light. you tried to grasp onto the light, escaping the booming sound of his laughter.

it was a fucking dream. you rubbed your eyes, pushing your face into the pillow, silencing your scream, so as to not wake up the others. you hated how pathetic it made you feel. how did it happen?

within the spills of ink on parchment paper and a constant comparison, how could have your feelings changed like this. perhaps you thought of him too much. you were supposed to ignore him. in the typical sense you were, but your mind or heart wasn't ready to go.

you were standing on the edge of a fucking knife, wondering if remus lupin even considered you to be a friend. you hated yourself for falling for him. it wasn't supposed to be more than sex, a quick relief from the constant shambles of your lives, yet here you were, in the middle of the night thinking of the one you were supposed to hate.

slipping your feet into the cozy bunny slippers, you grabbed your thickest jumper. you couldn't sleep, so you might as well take a walk. james and lily were on duty, but you were sure they weren't being as responsible as they were supposed to be.

it was cold. the snow that settled on the grounds was thick and milky white. the cold wind bit your skin, prickling it with goosebumps. you felt a lump in your throat thicken, and your eyes burn. you felt your heart drop. you blamed yourself for the situation you were in. it was your fault, utterly. you weren't supposed to fall for him.

even the stars couldn't calm you down with their serene rays. you dropped your head into your palms, letting the tears fall down your cheeks, sobbing silently.

'talking a walk alone at night now are we?' a voice quietly creeped up behind your back. you wiped your cheeks quickly, mentally preparing yourself to being caught by a prefect and getting your house points deducted. when you turned around, however, you were met with the amber eyes of the one you'd been thinking about. your tongue was tied in knots as you watched him drop james' invisibility cloak on the floor and walk towards you. you backed away, until your back hit the wall and there was nowhere to go.

'r-remus-' he raised an eyebrow, capturing you against the wall, his hand pressed against the wall. he leaned down, his finger crawling under your jaw and tilting your head to meet his burning amber like gaze.

'have you been crying?' he asked. you stared at him, tongue twisted in knots. but you knew it was no use lying to him. he could read you like a book.

'yes,' you nodded. he tilted an eyebrow.

'why?'

'why does it fucking matter remus? leave me alone- i'm not even your fucking friend.'

'then what are we? you've been ignoring me for the past few days, and now you're running away when i've finally got you alone.'

'nice try, lupin. you don't give a shit, so just let me go.'

'oh so you're going to decide whether i give a shit about you or not? what if i tell you i do?'

'you won't mean it.'

'i will. i've never lied to you,' he said. there was a bitter sadness in his eyes. you could see the darkness in his gaze, and even if he naturally had dead eyes, you could see a tiny ray of warmth in his gaze.

'please.' he said, letting you go. 'just tell me what's wrong. tell me what i've done. tell me how i can fix it. just...please don't ignore me.' he begged. slowly gulping, you pondered whether it was the correct moment to speak out your heart. perhaps it wasn't, but he could right through the lies. and while you had a lot of explanations hidden in your head, you could only whisper one line,

'i'm in love with you, remus,' he stared at you intently, letting your words hang before he could act upon them. you expected screaming, cussing...laughter. you didn't expect a soft gaze as he smiled at you. he slipped his finger under you jaw, tilting your head.

'i don't think you ignore the one's you're in love with,' you screwed your eyes shut, biting your lip. the blood warmly travelled to your cheeks,

'you don't feel the same, i was scared.'

'and how exactly do you know that?' you opened your eyes, to find him staring at you in utter glee.

'i've been yours before you touched me. all it took was spilled ink on my essay, sweetheart.'

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#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin smut #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #kinkotober #remus lupin fanart #wer'gewolf

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pedrointofolklore · 9 months

Text

This is me trying

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel hated you. he hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. he hated how much he worried about you. click here for part two.

warnings: detailed depictions of depression, heavily implied suicidal ideation, slight violence, angst with a sprinkle of fluff, no explicit smut but it does get very suggestive (minors do not interact), minor character death, enemies to lovers, poor communication, misunderstandings, these fools don’t know how to act, joel is an asshole but then he’s sweet, brief mention of drug use, lots of swearing, age gap (unspecified), no use of y/n, boston era/ellie era.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: hey y’all. i just wanted to thank everyone who supported my last story rosebud (here’s a link if you want to read it). this story is a lot different and a lot sadder. i got the title from my favourite pop girlie taylor alison swift.

Joel hated you. It had to be his worst kept secret.

You hadn’t done anything to him. You used to think about it constantly, desperate to know what his reason was for despising you like he did, but you eventually accepted that he didn’t need a reason. He just didn’t like you.

Joel wasn’t particularly likeable himself. He was rude and intimidating and one of the most morally bankrupt people you’d ever met, but you didn’t hate him the way he hated you. You were Tess’s lackey—Joel tolerated you, and you supposed he wasn’t obligated to do any more than that. Although, he didn’t do it very well.

You’d existed in each other’s orbit in the QZ for a while, and finally met one night in the boarded-up old mall when you’d gotten to a stash of painkillers just before them. Joel wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot you between the eyes if Tess hadn’t been there.

Tess saw something in you—not a friend, not a life worth sparing by virtue of humanity; a business investment.

And it was a smart investment. You were young, agile and clever, incredible at slipping by unnoticed and gathering information. You knew all the best routes, the best times to take them, and you could swindle anyone out of their rations just by batting your eyelashes. You were willing to take the lead, to be the first one in and out to make sure the coast was clear.

It wasn’t the threat of death or the promise of mercy that made you join them—it was the sense of purpose it gave you.

Joel was adamantly against it. Things worked fine the way they did them, and he saw no reason to add another person into it.

“Don’t need to fix something that ain’t broken,” was how he’d put it.

You didn’t dispute that. Joel and Tess had survived for years, and they were clearly more than capable of getting the job done, but what you lacked in experience, you made up for in stealth and speed—something their aging knees struggled with.

Tess convinced Joel, which you soon found out she was very good at. You also found out that his compliance didn’t mean hiding his resentment.

He thought you were a careless, impulsive loose cannon, and he’d told you so after a particularly dicey deal with a particularly dicey FEDRA agent.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.” He followed you into your apartment uninvited. Tess made him walk you home, and you were sure he only did it because he wanted to berate you.

“Why do you care?” you asked, tossing your keys onto the counter. They slid off and hit the floor.

“You’re with us,” Joel replied. “You'll get us killed.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes—you knew that infuriated him. “Am I on crack or have you not doubled your profits since I showed up?”

“I think you’re dangerous,” Joel said, ignoring you. “Always sneakin’ around, goin’ places you shouldn’t, playin’ mind games with FEDRA. Your luck’s gonna run out sooner or later, and I just hope I’m not around when it does.”

Your face burned with red-hot anger as you tried to fight the stinging in your eyes and the blurring of your vision, but you were too far gone. The tears fell, and they were ceaseless. You felt pathetic, but you knew this would happen. You didn’t often cry from sadness or pain, but anger always managed to bring it out in you.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me that?” you hissed. “You’re saying you don’t sneak around? You’ve never scammed anyone? You’re a smuggler, Joel! Be fucking real with me.”

“It’s different,” he said, clenching his jaw.

“Why, because you’re older? Because you have more experience?”

“‘Cause I don’t think I’m fuckin’ special.”

If his words were the dagger, the pure contempt in his tone was what plunged it into your stomach, twisted it, and left a gaping hole for all of your despair to come pouring out of, leaving behind a puddle of melancholia for him to gaze at in all its miserable glory.

It was the only time you might have hated Joel as much as he hated you. Working with him and Tess wasn’t perfect, but it was all you had, and now he’d managed to make it all meaningless. Your help wasn’t helping.

“Fuck you, Joel,” you spat.

You should have quit then, and you thought about it. After pounding your fists into Joel’s chest and screaming at him to get the fuck out of your apartment, you sunk down onto the floor and cried. You cried until you ran out of tears and were left with a nothing but a throbbing headache. You took a pill, passed out, and woke up to you discover that you’d lost the energy to really care about any of it.

You didn’t quit. If anything, you became even more audacious, but you never confused it with courage or bravery. Bravery was perseverance in the face of terror. Joel and Tess were brave. You weren’t like them.

Joel laid off after that. He wasn’t anything close to nice, but whatever animosity he held towards you was only ever expressed as quiet seething, and you could live with that.

Any fulfilment you got out of working with Joel and Tess dissolved, but for what it was, it still worked.

Until it didn’t.

Tess was dead. The buffer between you and Joel was gone, and you had no choice but to work together and get the immune girl to Colorado.

You wondered if there was a silver-lining in this wreckage. You thought that circumstance might force Joel to finally get along with you, and so you did the one thing you never did—you tried. You tried to help him, tried to speak to him like he was someone you actually wanted to speak to, tried to rein in some of your more annoying traits so you wouldn’t get on his nerves.

None of it worked. All you could get out of Joel seemed to be irritated mumbles and blank stares, and you couldn’t even blame him after what happened to Tess.

You never really knew if Tess actually gave a shit about you, or if she only ever cared about having an extra pair of hands around. Either way, you cared about her.

So, once again, you tried. When Joel and Ellie were sleeping—or at least pretending to—you walked down to the stream and tried to cry for her, but you couldn’t muster the tears. You even tried to get angry, mentally cuss her out for leaving you behind, but your eyes were dry.

You stared into the water, gazing at the way it sparkled in the starlight, and thought that the world didn’t deserve such a pretty sight. You couldn’t cry, but a deep sadness overtook you, weighing you down like lead.

Joel didn’t hate you.

He just hated how impulsive and reckless you were. He hated that you were smart, intuitive, and so maddeningly beautiful. He hated the risks you took, the danger you put yourself in, the total lack of value you had for your own life. He hated how much he worried about you.

There was a time he had disliked you. He used to think it was arrogance—that you truly believed you were so special that you could get away with anything. It was when he called you out on it that he realised how wrong he was.

Your reaction was frightening. You cried and screamed at him, pushed him out of your space. He didn’t know you were capable of such a strong display of emotion, but he’d struck a nerve, and those were the repercussions.

He recalled how the blows to his chest didn’t hurt, like there was no force behind them. You weren’t weak at all, you just couldn’t find the willpower to really hurt him. He wished you had hurt him. Maybe getting it out of your system would have helped. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to feel so guilty.

It became so obvious to him what was happening, and he felt like an idiot for not understanding it sooner. It wasn’t that you thought you were special, or immune to the consequences—you just didn’t care what happened to you.

Now Tess was gone, and he had this horrible feeling that he was going to lose you too.

His way of dealing with it was to push you away even more. He told himself it would make things easier when you inevitably left him.

Things came to a head one night after the three of you left Lincoln. Joel had been driving all day, and he would be doing it again the next day. He was in desperate need of sleep, but as he stared out into the eerie darkness of the woods, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible would happen if he didn’t stay awake.

He heard the rustling of a sleeping bag sometime after midnight. He thought it was you just rolling over in your sleep—something you often did—but then he heard the faint sound of dead leaves crunching under feet, and you were by his side a moment later.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you asked in a soft, sleepy voice that made his chest ache.

“Keepin’ watch,” he replied bluntly.

“But you’re driving tomorrow,” you said. “You need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ve slept, so I can take over,” you offered.

“I just told you I’m fine.”

“I’m just trying to help—”

“I don’t need your fucking help.”

You backed off, hanging your head in shame, and he instantly felt horrible—you were being nice to him and he was still being a complete asshole.

Joel tried to tear his gaze away from you. He wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening, that he hadn’t just done that, but his eyes stayed on you. He watched the shame dissolve and replace itself with indignation. You pulled your head up and glared at him with a fire in your eyes that threatened to burn right through him.

“I get it, okay? I’m sorry.”

“What are you talkin’ about?”

“I never meant for you to get stuck with me. I know it’s your worst fucking nightmare. If I could switch places with Tess—“

“Stop.” He wouldn’t hear that. He couldn’t. It would kill him. “That’s not—I’m not thinkin’ that. I’m glad you’re here, understand? I need you with me.”

You let out a bitter laugh. The sound hit his ears like a gunshot. “You just told me you didn’t. All you’ve done—all you’ve ever done—is act like I’m a fucking waste of space.”

Joel’s mouth when dry, his heart dropped to his stomach, and he thought he might vomit. It shouldn’t have shocked him like it did, but hearing you say it made him sick. He put the gun he’d been clutching down on the ground, disarming himself in more ways than one. “I don’t think that…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just—fuck—I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Are you gonna leave?”

“Leave this mission or this mortal coil?"

“Either, I guess.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Your voice was just a whisper, and it felt like you were ripping Joel’s heart out and crushing it in your hands.

Fuck no, he didn’t want you to leave, and that was what scared him the most; feeling attached to someone so detached (and yes, he was a hypocrite). He wouldn’t be able to take it if he woke up one day and you were gone.

But he couldn’t keep doing this to you. It was selfish and cowardly and it just made everything worse. He made everything worse.

“I can’t do this without you,” he told you. He hadn’t known how true it was until he said it.

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.” He felt suddenly impassioned. “You can’t…if you…just don’t. Promise me you won’t.” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t let the words out of his mouth and into the universe. You both knew what he meant.

“I promise,” you said. You sounded oddly tranquil, but Joel was destroyed, even though he knew he didn’t have the right to be—this was entirely his fault.

“Can you let me keep watch so you can get some sleep?” you asked again.

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“Just need to know where you are.”

You stared at him, eyes wide and glossy, and for a second he thought you might start crying. Before he could think of something to do or say, your hands were on either side of his face, pulling him down into an urgent kiss.

He didn’t know what was happening, what you were thinking, or what he was thinking, but it didn’t matter, he just knew he needed to kiss you back. One of his hands found your waist while the other splayed out across your back, pulling you flush against him.

It was nowhere near sweet. It was intense and unyielding—a frantic clashing of teeth and bruising of lips. It was intoxicating, earth-shattering, but felt so right, like it was always meant to happen—or needed to happen.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, somehow bringing him impossibly closer to you. You hiked a leg up around his hip and tugged his pelvis forward. He ran a hand down from your waist, brushing it over your ass and gripping your thigh.

You rolled your hips into his, eliciting a deep, involuntary groan from him. He was painfully hard. He knew he would regret this, but he set your leg down and managed to tear his mouth away from yours.

He missed the feeling immediately, and he didn’t have the self-control to pull away completely. His hands were still on you, pressing you against him. You looked so pretty and ruined gazing back at him; breathless and flustered with pink, swollen lips.

Fuck.

You had just kissed Joel Miller, the man you hated.

You didn’t hate him.

You kissed the man who hated you.

He didn’t hate you.

You kissed the only person you had left. You kissed him even though it made no sense. You kissed him because you wanted to.

You started it, but then he stopped it. His eyes were dark, his face was flushed, and the bulge in his jeans was not going away. He looked like he was in pain, struggling with his own conscience.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” He grinned softly and reached a hand up to tangle in your hair. It was an unexpectedly sweet gesture. “I liked it.”

Your heart melted. He was so lovely, so dear. You never imagined in your wildest dreams that Joel Miller could be like this.

“Just don’t wanna take advantage,” he said.

“You’re not. I kissed you,” you reminded him.

“I know, but you're upset, and you don’t like me much, and you’re tired. Don’t want you doing anything you don’t actually wanna do.”

You did want it, but you were also overwhelmed and exhausted, and more importantly, it would have been a majorly fucked up thing to do with a 14 year old sleeping 20 feet away.

“But if you still want it later”—he gave you another chaste kiss—“you can have it.”

You giggled, kissing him one more time. You didn’t know when you'd be able to again.

His gentle smile faded, and he looked into your eyes with devastating sincerity. “I got you now, okay?”

“I know, Joel.”

“Do you have me?” he asked.

“I’m trying.” You hoped that would be enough, because it was all you had.

“That’s all I need, sweetheart.”

a/n: so i wrote most of this when i was sick with the flu and i fully intended for it to be a one-shot, but i love this dynamic and i’m thinking of exploring it further. let me know if y’all would be interested in seeing more of these two. (edit: this a/n is now redundant bc i did in fact write the sequel).

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller imagine #the last of us #pedro pascal #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

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cupid-styles · 7 months

Text

you're my last shot

second blurb of my fall/halloween series ! this one honestly has nothing to do with halloween but imagine it happens in fall :) there will be a halloween-themed blurb for them coming on sunday!

word count: less than 1,000

content warnings: pregnancy, discussion pertaining to abortion (no action taken)

masterlist | talk to me

fall blurb masterlist

. . .

Y/N isn't quite sure when she and Harry started hating each other so much.

It's been months, probably. Maybe a year? She doesn't really remember; all she knows is that the second he melded into their friend group, she thought he was cocky and annoying, flirting with every person who so much even looked his way, and she didn't like that. She didn't like him.

The mutual hatred between them was fine up until now, but... now, it seems like it's a major inconvenience, because Y/N is standing in her bathroom staring down at four positive pregnancy tests and Harry — she shudders — is the only person she's slept with in the past three months.

It had been a moment of weakness. A huge one. Massive, really, fueled by a few too many drinks at the bar, a shared spliff outside, an alcohol-fueled decision of, "well, we live in the same neighborhood, may as well just take an Uber together" that ended in a heated makeout session, followed by one of the most passionate nights Y/N has ever had. (She'll never admit that to him, but she swallows it down for herself.)

There was something about that night. He was being less... awful than he typically was when their friends went out. He didn't eye fuck the entire bar, didn't buy any drinks for the cute girls flirting with him. He was tolerable and apparently that was enough for Y/N — well, drunk Y/N who gets a little too horny when she has rosé in her system, and when she eyed his large hands and tattoos in the Uber, and she felt him shift just a little bit closer to her in the backseat, and when he whispered "just for tonight, no one has to know" into her ear, she was a goner.

And now she's pregnant with his child.

What the fuck?

. . .

It turns out that that's Harry's exact response.

"You said you're on birth control—"

"I am."

"So what the fuck happened—"

"It must have failed, Harry, there's still a chance of conception even with the pill."

"Are you serious—"

"Do you think I would joke about this?"

He's pacing around the diameter of his living room, trying to digest the news. She understands. It took her about 48 hours to process that this was happening to her, and then an additional 24 when she realized she had to tell Harry. She hadn't told anyone else — not any of their friends or her mom, because she wasn't sure what she wanted to do and she didn't want her decision to be fueled by any outside opinions. As much as she despised him, she believed Harry was the only other person who had a say in this.

Finally, he sits down. Well, it's more a noisy thump as he crosses his legs on the carpet, burying his head in his hands. She sighs, feeling marginally bad for him, even if she was having the same response a few days ago.

"Listen, I'm fine to have an abortion. I know we're both pro-choice and we really don't have to do anything with this... thing. Just, like, Venmo me half the money for one and I'll get it done."

Harry looks up at her, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Why would you get an abortion?"

"Why wouldn't I get an abortion?"

"Because I want to be a dad," he says with a shrug, as if it's a given that he'd want Y/N to mother his child, "You may be my only shot. We all know I have a shitty relationship history, who knows if I'll be able to have another kid."

"Harry, this is insane. We can't stand each other, this would never be a healthy situation."

"Why not?" he presses, and Y/N seriously can't believe he's fighting back on this, "Co-parenting is totally normal. We don't have to be married to have a kid together. I'm ready."

Her eyes widen. "I literally watched you funnel a bag of wine last week, and you're 29 years old."

"I only do that shit because I have no reason not to. If we're having a baby, I'm more than happy to stop partying and focus on becoming a dad."

"Do you— like, do you even know what being a parent requires?" Y/N asks, "You would be committed to dealing with me for at least 18 years. Money, emotional support, being there for everything. Soccer games, school shows, parent-teacher conferences, graduations, doctors appointments..."

"I want kids, Y/N. And if you're my only chance, I'm not gonna say no."

She thinks she might puke on the spot.

"You look like you're gonna pass out. Are you okay?" Harry questions, standing from his spot on the rug and stepping towards her. She puts her hands up, a silent and invisible boundary. He stops.

"Are you... set on having an abortion?" he asks quietly, "It's okay if you are, that's your choice."

She sighs. She hates to admit that she's not. That over the past four days, she's envisioned what it would be like to snuggle her sweet baby, to kiss them and hold them and be a mom to them. That, worst of all, her dating history is just as glum as Harry's and, whether she likes it or not, he may be her only shot at parenthood, too.

"I guess I'm not," Y/N breathes, setting her eyes low to the ground. "I know I only have so much time and... I do get scared that I'll miss my opportunity."

"Yeah," he nods in understanding, "Do you wanna... like, take some time to think then? Maybe reconvene in a couple of days?"

Reluctantly, she agrees. But she already knows that she doesn't need any more time to mull it over — she wants to have this baby with Harry.

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x oc

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lucy-gray1075 · 3 months

Note

Finnick comforting reader when she is on her period?

I love your work so much<33

Tomorrow Never Came

tyy love!!

context: Finnick and reader are fellow tributes from four who are both currently at the Capitol cause they were Reaped for the Games.

a/n: Yes, Finnick nicknames reader ace lol. I've been binging s5 and 6 of Gilmore Girls and Finnick is so Logan coded <3

౨ৎ･ﾟ:*

"Ughhh!" You hated being dramatic, but you hated things not going your way even more. "Stupid blanket!"

You let out another prolonged groan when it once again slid off your legs and onto the floor. It was a blanket for God's sake, wasn't the thing supposed to keep you warm? Instead, the threadbare fabric couldn't even stay on top of your legs.

"Now, honey, there's no need to throw things around and cause a fuss." You could place the unmistakably pouty drawl from a mile away. You felt his maddeningly hot breath on the back of your neck as he leaned over your spot on the couch.

"Go away, Odair." You fought to keep your voice calm. Seeing you annoyed only egged Finnick on like some crude form of encouragement.

Predictably, he jumped over the edge of the couch, jostling you as he landed with a thump. Leave it to Finnick to annoy you when you're in your most irritable mood.

To your surprise, he held out a throw blanket. The plushy material looked so out of place in his calloused hands, so rough from all his seafaring.

"Take it, ace." He nodded encouragingly. "I can't even imagine how hard it is being on that time of the month. Especially, being here and all, away from home, and with all that pressure on ya."

"How do you know..."

"I saw you eating like three pounds of chocolate last night." At your look of mortification, he hurried to add, "I couldn't sleep either, sweetheart. I wanted to join you, but I figured if I interrupted you, I wouldn't stand a chance at even making it to the arena tomorrow night."

You chuckled at that, finding him funnier than you'd like to admit. You reluctantly accepted the blanket he was still holding out to you.

"You know, ace, we can be allies in there." He was looking at you earnestly now, gaze piercing enough to cut through glass. "I don't want this to sound forward, but I would die for you."

He swallowed as you frowned up at him. "I...I-I don't have anyone who cares about me. I don't have anyone to go home to if I come out of this thing alive. But you..."

You surprised yourself with what came out of your mouth next, "I care."

Finnick raised his head slowly.

"I mean it, Fin," you continued. "You're...Look, I know I'm not the easiest person to like, but somehow you make me seem tolerable. I never thanked you for saving my ass during the interview." You rolled your eyes at the memory.

"But thank you for spinning our story into a love tale. If it weren't for you, I would probably have a negative amount of sponsors. I mean, who wants to root for the scrawny girl from the fishing district who can't even fish-"

Finnick's plush lips found yours, immediately silencing the million thoughts running through your mind. He pulled back, eyebrows raised as if he had surprised himself. If tomorrow never came, you would be glad for it.

You pulled him back to you, the collar of his sweater clutched tightly in your hands. He kissed you slow as if you were a delicate primrose blooming in early spring.

When you pulled back again, he eyed you, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

"I would root for the scrawny girl from four, who by the way, is the strongest swimmer I've ever seen." You suddenly felt yourself growing redder than channel bass. "And about that love tale, I didn't just spin it. I spoke from the heart."

"Oh, now you're done," you thwacked his chest, moving to stand up. "This does not mean you're getting in my pants tonight, Odair." You glanced at him pointedly, clutching his blanket to your chest.

You turned before you could notice that his answering smirk was more of a hopeful grin.

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wnobin · 4 months

Text

dinosaurs and bears 🦕

childhood crush! anton x fem! reader

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

chapter synopsis: you and anton reconnect in college but he seems different. different hair colour, different style, but still the same anton you fell in love with.

intro | part one | part two | part three | part four (final!)

it’s been almost a year since you last saw anton in person. you stood outside his house, waiting for your turn to say your goodbyes to him, trying your best to suppress your tears. after anton’s dad gave him a hug and patted his back, it was now your turn with him.

“so are you excited to spend the next four hours on the road?” anton chuckled softly at your question, nodding as he reached into his bag and pulling out something. it was your childhood teddy bear that you gave him during your first meeting as kids. “not really but it’ll be more tolerable when i have a mini you with me.”

at this point your lips were already quivering, eyes welling up with tears. “can’t believe you’re bringing mr. fuzzles with you…” your voice was shaking, tears already rolling down your cheeks. how were you supposed to deal with not seeing anton everyday? you just wanted him close all the time, he was the one you ran to every time something good or bad happened and you couldn’t imagine running to anyone else. as supportive as you were, you didn’t want him to leave at all.

“c’mon you promised you wouldn’t cry. you pinky promised!” anton playfully ruffled your hair before bringing his thumb up to wipe the tears off your rosy cheeks. you had snot dripping from your nose, hiccuping as you sobbed. despite that, anton still found you adorable and thought you were so, so pretty. he couldn’t help but pull you into a tight hug, rubbing your back as he comforted you. you held onto him tightly, as if it would stop him from leaving. “don’t want you to go, anton… who’s gonna tie my laces for me and read to me when i can’t sleep?”

letting out a shaky breath, anton felt tears threatening to fall. he told you not to cry but he couldn’t help but to do the same when he saw how heartbroken you were over him leaving. he didn’t want to let go of you, your presence feeling like home to him. he eventually broke the hug, hands finding their way to your cheeks as he tilted your head up to look at him. anton’s eyes were glossy and he let out shaky breaths through his parted lips. he looked so pretty like this. you always thought anton was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. anton leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “call me when you can’t sleep. i’ll read you bedtime stories, like always. okay?”

eventually, anton had to leave. you waved him goodbye until the car was out of sight and you weren’t crying as hard anymore. you promised yourself that day that you would do anything to be by anton’s side again. you couldn’t bear being apart from him. sure, you and anton would frequently call at any spare moment you two had, no matter how tired you both were. it just wasn’t the same, you wanted anton as close to you as possible. you spent day and night studying hard, telling yourself that it would all be worth it when you get into the same college as anton and you would be with him again. your other friends called you insane, dedicating hours to studying and flaking on plans with them just so you could attend the same school as anton. you ignored them, they didn’t understand and they were never as important to you as anton was anyways. after months of putting your heart and soul into endless hours of studying, your efforts finally paid off when you opened the acceptance letter to anton’s college. anton didn’t know that you were studying so hard just to be with him again and you didn’t know how to break the news to him.

now here you were, standing in front of anton’s dorm room while carrying two heavy bags filled with items to give him. you decided it was best to surprise him in person. when anton’s parents found out you were planning to visit him, his mom made sure to send you off with boxes upon boxes of homemade food and a slip of paper with anton’s address on it. you were hesitant to ring the doorbell, maybe you should have called him beforehand instead of showing up out of the blue. before you could ring the doorbell or pussy out and leave, the door of the unit swung open to reveal a taller male with brown hair. “can i help you?” this definitely wasn’t anton and anton didn’t have roommates either.

realisation sunk in. this wasn’t anton’s dorm and you were given the wrong address. “oh my god— i must be at the wrong dorm, i was looking for—“

“y/n?”

you turned your head to find anton standing next to you. he was carrying a duffle bag, hair messy and slightly disheveled, as if he just came from practice. you stared at him, taken aback by how different he looked now compared to when you last saw him. anton was taller now, arms bigger, and his hair was red. you completely forgot about the stranger whose door you were standing at. “you never told me you dyed your hair.”

“and you never told me you were coming.” he ran his fingers through his red strands, corners of his lips turning to give you his shy smile that you missed seeing so badly. your heart couldn’t help but to skip a beat. although he looked different, his soft spoken voice and personality stayed the same and you felt like you were falling in love all over again. “came here to surprise you.”

anton pulled you into a tight hug, almost crushing your bones. you didn’t care that he was sweaty, you just missed his touch and wanted to stay like that for as long as possible. anton was here. anton is finally by your side again. “um, hello…??”

your attention was brought back to the confused man and you cleared your throat, apologising. “eunseok, this is y/n! you remember her, my best friend!” anton talked about you to his college friends? your head began to turn dizzy, a slight blush creeping up onto your cheeks as you waved at eunseok, who waved back. “did my mom give you the wrong unit number? swear she does that all the time, so many of my packages end up at eunseok’s dorm.” anton groaned as he looked at the slip of paper with his address that you held. you nodded sheepishly, still unable to process that you were seeing anton in person again and how good he looked. college really did him good. “well, i’m gonna head to my classes. you two have fun!”

eunseok bid his goodbyes after locking his door, leaving you and anton on your own. “these for me?” he gestured to the food filled bags. “your mom made it for you.”

“really?! i missed it so much. missed you too, of course.”

anton mumbled the last part but you still heard it, your mind replaying his words. anton missed you. you wondered if he thought about you as much as you did about him. you couldn’t help but to stare at him unashamedly. while you remained the same height, anton looks like he had a growth spurt in the past year, towering over you. his shoulders were wider and arms so toned and muscular now. “you gonna keep staring or you wanna come in?”

snapping back to reality, anton had already unlocked his door and helped to bring in the heavy bags that you struggled to lift. you stepped in to his dorm, which was unsurprisingly clean and tidy except for a few hoodies laying around. he had a guitar displayed in his living room and a few potted plants around. “you like it here?” you hummed and nodded, eyes still scanning around the living room and kitchen area as anton began to unpack tupperware containers filled with food into his refrigerator. you began to stare at him again, unable to stop yourself from admiring his features. his gorgeous eyes that you always loved staring into, his jawline that looked as if it was chiseled by micheal angelo, his plump lips that look so kissable, his arms that you wanted so badly to bite onto.

“let me show you my room next!” anton excitedly held onto your hand and dragged you into his bedroom once he was done putting away all the food. anton hoped you couldn’t feel how sweaty his palms were from how nervous he was to see you again. throughout his time in college, the thought of you plagued his mind. it was hard not to think of you when you were at the top of his notifications everyday, when he slept with your teddy bear every night and when he looked at his books, all he could think of was when you would both read them together. all he thought about was you and when he would see you again. he would tell his college friends about you, showing them your pictures with hearts in his eyes. he thought it was just normal friendship stuff to be missing you so badly, especially since you’ve been friends for over a decade. that was until sungchan, eunseok’s roommate laughed at him. “dude, you obviously like her and she obviously likes you. this isn’t a friendship anymore.” anton wasn’t sure which he was more shocked by, the fact that he definitely had feelings for you or the fact that you probably felt the same. his group of friends hummed in agreement, shotaro throwing around a joke that anton shows you off like you’re his girlfriend.

the first thing that caught your eye was the teddy bear on anton’s bed, cutely tucked into the sheets. “aww, you’re taking such good care of him!” your giggles sounded like music to his ears. god, he missed you so much. after his friends told him he was probably in love with you, he would lay in bed at night, staring at the ceiling while thinking of you. did he like you? of course not! you were his friend, basically like a little sister to him. but then again, he never found any other girl as attractive to him as you. whenever he went on dates, he would find the girls to be difficult to connect with. they would poke fun at his soft spoken personality and try to get him to be more extroverted. you on the other hand, encouraged him to be the purest version of himself, never once complaining about how shy he is and how he liked to keep to himself. did anton think you were pretty? definitely! he loved how soft and plump your cheeks were, he would lay in bed thinking about the next time he got to squish your cheeks. he loved your soft and warm personality, always ready to comfort him when he was stressed about practice and assignments despite you being miles away. he loved you. he just didn’t know how to tell you, or if he even should. “so… did you just take a four hour car ride to drop off food for me?”

you fiddled with your fingers, a sheepish smile on your face as you got closer to anton. “we’re gonna be schoolmates! i start next semester!” anton feels his heart speed up, not only from the close proximity but also the fact that he would get to see you everyday from now on. it would definitely be harder for him to hide his feelings but he was happy for you and there was nothing more that he wanted than to be neighbours with you again. “that’s amazing! i’m so happy for you!”

you and anton spent the rest of the day catching up, talking until the sun went down and then ordering in food for dinner. he convinced you to stay the night, insisting that it was too late and that you could go back in the morning. the both of you sat next to each other, backs against the wall as anton ranted about his exams that recently ended, thankful that the next few weeks would be a break for him and that he was planning to go home for awhile. you and anton talked like before and you were thankful that there was no awkward stage and your chemistry still remained unchanged. “i was really stressed that one night when my laptop died on me an hour before my submission! luckily my work was saved and i managed to submit everything on time… so to celebrate, i dyed my hair on impulse with the help of my friends.” anton had his head on your lap as you played with it, braiding a small section of it. his hair was so long now and he looked so breathtaking. you could tell his energy was slowly fleeting as his voice got softer and he eventually stopped talking. you continued to pat his head as he drifted off into sleep, eyes fluttering shut as he let out soft snores.

you were okay with never being anything with anton, remaining friends forever as long as it meant that he would be by your side. you didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him, not knowing what you would do without him.

#riize x reader #riize #riize fluff #riize smut #riize imagines #anton fluff #riize anton x reader #anton imagines #anton x reader #riize anton

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1800-page-not-found · 1 year

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Being drunk and complaining how you think your bfGF is prettier than you (genshin men WOMEN x fem reader)

meow i love women <3

im so gay for genshin women lol

characters(SEPERATE): yae miko, beidou, lisa, mona, deyha, ninguang, rosaria, shenhe, yelan,

doing nilou, ganyu, jean, eula, keqing, ei(baal), kokomi, yoimiya next!!

be sure to comment if you want any other characters!!

ILL ALSO HAVE A SEPRATE LITTLE LUMINE AND AETHER ONE BC I LOVE THEM

i just fucking realized that rosaria is a nun, which means she is not allowed to date or have any sexual interaction uh my bad haha

Yae miko rather laughed at your pitiful state. As a shrine maiden, she is not allowed to drink, but rather seeing you intoxicated was rather enjoyable. "fufufu...what do we have here?" She laughed as you collapsed onto her, crying. "How are you so gorgeous?...what if-what if someone steals you from me? Do you even love me?" ...this was what came out of your mouth in a series of lisps and blabbering. "Oh? And what would make you think there is anyone else that could win me over? If you really want to be assured, I'll let you know that I dont just fall for anyone..." She smiled slyly at you. "R-REALLY?.." You looked up at her. "Yes darling, really." You ended up in a sobbing fit and cried yourself to sleep, waking up to puffy eyes and a teasing yae miko who wouldn't tell you what she was had happened last night...

Beidou, is a drinker all right. And so were you. Unfortunantly, the rather large difference between the two of you drinking was your rather awful alcohol tolerance. One or two drinks and you were saying your deepest darkest secrets. Which is why it usually ends up with you and beidou drinking alone. "Gosh..." You fangirled at your wife. "So hot, pretty, cool, smart, strong, hngg" You hit your head on the table as your hand which was supporting your head slipped. "OW!" You yelled in pain, crying to your wife. "Wifey it hurtttttttsss." You cried to beidou, and she just laughed. Which resulted in you staring at her in seriousness. "That laugh...."You suddenly gush, warmth rising to your cheeks. "That was so hot!" sparkles appeared in your eyes. "Do it again! Do it again!" You eagrly begged her to laugh again...and again...and again. How happy beidou was to have someone love her as much as you did.

Lisa, was actually the one to intoxicate you in her office after you gifted her multipole bottles of fruit wine, insisting that it would taste better if she drank it with you. However, rather than drinking it for herself, she took small sips while encouraging you to drink more. And you, somewhat of a people pleaser (or maybe just a lisa pleaser), drank until you couldn't tell how many fingers you had on your hand. "Lisaaaaaaa" you groaned, holding your head. "Yes cutie?" she smiled slyly, swirling the wine in her glass. "I envy you so much.." You laid your head on the office desk sighing. "You're so cute, gorgeous, and pretty...how is it even possible? And your voice is so soothing..." You blinked slowly, perhaps it was the alcohol (or lisa's voice), that made you tired. "Haha, are you a fan of me?" She gazed into your eyes smiling as her hand lifted your chin to look at her. "I think your cuter, isn't that right my little cutie?" You shied away from her embarrassed. "I was trying to complement you...not turn it around to me" You kissed her and giggled, "Hehe, you're my girlfriend! I'm so luckyyyhngggg" You blabbered, drifting off to sleep giggling.

As a rather wealthy person (or at least, richer than mona), you brought mona to your house for a little dinner date at home. You were quite nervous, even after months of dating, trying to impress her. Mona found it a bit cute, you've already stolen her heart, you still want to impress her? This 'cute' intention and nervousness made yourself drink the whole bottle of alcohol for a confidence boost. "Ah! [n-name] dear, you shouldn't drink so fast!" Mona stood up worriedly and rushed to your side. She held your arm as the alcohol started doing its job, and you started to loose balance. "Monaaaaaa I love you sooooooooo muchhh" You turned to her smiling drowsily, but unfortunately loosing your balance which caused you to topple over her on the floor. "[n-name]! Are you okay!?" she sat up, perhaps a bit embarrassed with a tint of pink dusting her face. You, arms wrapped around her neck and staring at her a bit too intently, spoke. "You're the prettiest astrologist-no the prettiest person ive ever met, how did i even get to date you?" You gushed at her. "P-pretty? Well of course I am!" She boasted, turning her head to face the wall to hide the redness of her face. "You're so cool...I wanna be just like you" You stayed like this for a while, sitting in her lap on the ground until you dozed off. "You're so silly [name], I love you for who you are..." She mumbled under her breath, staring at your sleeping figure on her lap.

An eremite and a scholar..dating? Yes, perhaps it was a bit unusual, but you were so in love with Deyha, sometimes you couldn't even look her in the eye. First meeting when you commissioned her to protect you in the runes, as you were a haravatat student. You asked her out, and rather very surprisingly, she said yes. And now it comes to this, having a date in a treehouse? The picnic blanket was spread on the wooden floor, and a candlelit dinner was set on the blanket. "[name]...you can't get drunk alright?" Worried for your safety, she set the bottle to the side, away from you. You were quite the infamous scholar at the akademiya known for your alcoholism, which made many other scholars shy away from you. Deyha paused for a moment, seemingly trying to process something, then picking up the bottle and shaking it, only to hear the airy inside of the bottle, without a single drop of wine. "[n-name]?" She went over to your side and looked at your face, in which turned out to be pink. She sighed. Truth to be told, you were trying to fix your alcoholism, which was (kind of?) working, you only got drunk every other week or so. It seems that the wine was too tempting to resist. You looked at Deyha and took her face in your hands. "Your makeup is superb pretty and gorgeous and cool and hot today." Deyha sat up straight, blushing. "I'm not wearing any makeup today [name].." Covering her face with her hand embarresed by your compliment. You snaked your hands around her waist and closed your eyes. "Mmmm...youre warm too..." You cuddled next to her as she laughed. "Of course, I'm your little heater." You smiled, breathing in her scent. "You smell good too..ehe" You took a deep breath and sighed.

The jade chamber was rebuilt, so you decided to have a mini party with only Ninguang. "I've brough some high-quality wine from mondstat for us to celebrate." She opened the bottle, the two of you a drink. Savoring the wine, she smiled at you gently. "Do you like it?" She asked you, waiting for your reply. "YES! Ahem, sorry i meant yes, i do like it." You blushed, flustered of your outburst. It was still hard to wrap your head around the fact that you were dating the ninguang. Perhaps it was the alcohol slowly taking effect, or maybe just the nerves, but you suddenly blurted out, "I think you're the nicest and prettiest lady in the entirety of teyvat! I-I'm really happy that you gave me a chance to date you considering our vast diferences..." You stuttered, fumbling with your hands. She let out a slight chuckle and stood up, walking in front of your chair to bend down to look at you. As here hands were on both of the arm rests, pining you to the chair, she spoke sternly, yet also in a loving tone. "It should be me who's the grateful one here, someone as cute and charming as you is hard to come by you know?" She teased you, showing her rather playful side than her work personality to you. After all, you were someone who truly loved ninguang for who she is and perhaps her no.1 fangirl and supporter.

As someone who was kept void of emotions, Shenhe was always learning new things about love and emotions when she was with you. She always felt calmer(less homicidal ykyk) near you, which was something quite new. And blushing and being embarrassed...was a bit confusing sometime. You invited her to your house for a drink or two, which caused shenhe to panic a bit and cloud retainer to have her little 'my baby's growing up!!' moment. Appearing at your front door step, you invited her in. "Oh! I bought this bottle of alcohol when i visited Snezhnaya, I've been really wanting to try it with you!" You smiled, which instantly caused shenhe to be a melting mess. "R-really...you wanted to try it with me?" "Yes!" You took two cups and poured some alcohol in each one. "Cheers!" You smiled as you downed the whole thing. "Ack-" You coughed, choking a bit on the alcohol. "Are you alright?" Shenhe asked worried about your wellbeing. "Yeah haha..and this alcohol seems to be wayyyy stronger than I thought it would be." You silently apologized to shenhe for the person you were about to become once drunk. Taking another shot (which actually was more like 5 shots in your cup), your face started turning red, and your words started to become more carefree and slurred. "Mmmphhh i really lov your eyes their soooo pretty...Just like you entirely ya know? Gosh how did i get someone as cute as you?..." You smiled at her, as she was a mush of shyness. "You're doing it again...saying these things that make me feel weird..." She mumbled, but you heard her. "Do you not like how it makes you feel?" You looked at her, tilting your head in curiosity. "N-no! I really like these um-compliments you give me." She covered her face. "Awww whats wrong?" You smiled, pouting. "Those expressions of yours...so...cute..." She fangirled internally at you. Tonight, shenhe will be receiving all the affection she deserves <3

"YYYYYYYYEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLAAAAAAAAANNNNNNN" you yelled rushing to the front door of your rather luxurious home you shared with your wife. "Hello love, I'm back from work." You jumped onto her as she caught you. "You're such a child...I haven't even been gone for that long." You sniffled and sobbed. "Yes it was! You were gone for two days! I missed you so much!" You cried, and yelan took one smell to know you were drinking. She sighed and laughed "Drinking without me?" She said. "Im sorry...I just missed seeing your pretty face and your touch i thought the alcohol would help...It's-It's a weekend so its fine!" You tried defending yourself. "Well I'll say, I missed you lots too. I got you a little souvenir" But you were already fast asleep. Well at least she loves taking care of you at times like this, she found it pretty cute.

#yae miko x reader #beidou x reader #lisa x reader #mona x reader #deyha x reader #ninguang x reader #shenhe x reader #yelan x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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dorianbrightmusic · 5 months

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i'm seeing a lot of Pokémon SV DLC analyses where people say 'Oh, Kieran's fixation on Ogrepon is because he sees it as a path to strength; Carmine's bullied him long enough that his shield against admitting his weakness to himself is adoring a legendary creature'. And don't get me wrong – these interpretations certainly hold water – but I've actually been working from basically the opposite angle for all this time.

By all means, Kieran idolises strength, but he inhabits Carmine's shadow – he's the weak sibling, and probably has been for a long time. Yet, rather than fixate on the fantastical power of the Loyal Three, he identifies himself with Ogrepon – the downtrodden, ostracised creature cast out to eke out a subsistence. A terrible demon that wasn't quite terrible enough to cause anyone any lasting harm. The creature defeated by heroes, rather than the perfect, heroic figureheads themselves. He's enamoured with the downtrodden; he sees himself in its grief, in its being cast out and excluded. He's been cast out and excluded all his life (and he can't be a bad person, right? It's not fair – he's hated senselessly, surely, rather than for some reason?) – he sees himself as harmless; so the ogre, too, must be harmless, mis-blamed. Strength is thus in resistance; in growing a shell to tolerate others' inexplicable cruelty. So Kieran looks to Ogerpon, and he thinks that the meek shall inherit the earth, and it gives him the strength to tolerate long nights with poor company. Others are villains – not him, not this creature – and he's safe in the knowledge that at the end of the day, at least an ogre can go down in mythology as the putative sole survivor of its trials.

In this sense, Kieran's like Penny – he finds himself in a position of weakness, of being victimised, and forms himself an armour of being an underdog, of being the thing that bites back. Yet while Penny's position is that the underdog might muster the strength to bite back and restore justice, Kieran's view is that at least the underdog was worth loving. He's inert and preoccupied with his inertia. He can't understand that maybe he could be a human, with the capacity to grow, the capacity to sin. And when Carmine is cruel to him, he reaffirms his own contrarian mindset more – she says I am worth little for my weakness, so my weakness is all I am worth; my weakness is my strength.

And yet he chases strength, because he has to to survive. So when the player comes by, and supports him, maybe he has the safety to walk away from his preoccupation with being an underdog, to enjoy strength for strength's sake. And then, he starts losing, but this time, there are stakes, since he can't just withdraw and be consoled by the fact that withdrawing is right, is right, is right. Thus, he must get stronger. And then, when Ogerpon turns out to favour Juliana, who's become Kieran's idol for all that strength means, rather than Kieran, who's Kieran's selfsame designated weaklingpatheticscumidiot——well, what can Kieran do but fracture, since his whole ideology, his whole premonition that he might have the right to inherit the earth, has been fractured? And, under stress, he pivots from one extreme to the other. All he knows is that weakness is now unbearable. He must get stronger. Must get stronger. Must get stronger—because otherwise he's doomed, he's nothing. He has no myth to dissolve his identity in any longer, so he reshapes himself around the only other standard he's ever known. And it twists him and it breaks him into tiny pieces, because suddenly, the last thing he can bear to be is Kieran: Kieran, the downtrodden and meek boy. He has to flip on his axis; he must become the designated villain of his story by popular imagination, or else be subsumed in the fact that he's going to die someday without any place in the world. He has to play a part, because he's been consigned to one so long, and he can't think of anything other than heroes and villains, enemies and martyrs. He can't be the bad guy. Strength is now goodness; weakness is now evil. And he can't reconcile who he thought he was with who he must become, and as a result, all he can do is try to destroy the person who's destroyed his ideology.

#ngl the more i dive into kieran's character the more i worry about his mental health.#i do have a specific diagnosis in mind but it's not one i have and it's a stigmatised one so i wanna be really really careful here #still: let's just say 'black and white thinking' 'mutable identity' 'abandonment phobia' 'very rash when angry' 'emptiness'#and 'very verrrry reactive mood' – well if you know you know #anyway. he's my blorbo and he breaks my heart #pokemon sv #teal mask #the teal mask #kieran #pokemon kieran #pokémon #scarvio #scarvi #SV #scarlet and violet #pokémon scarlet #pokémon violet #pokemon scarlet #pokemon violet

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purerae · 6 months

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Hii! I love your work!! Could you do a halloween party imagine with any of your characters? or all of them meeting our poor y/n, it'd make a cool crossover

Free form however you like!!!

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!HAREM X FEM READER

HALLOWEEN PARTY // AU IMAGINE.

warnings ;; mostly crack, yandere behaviour, male yandere(s), female yandere, mentions of drinking, demon summoning (silas), mentions of blackmail (none to Y/N), alternate universe, not canon to anyone's plot.

a/n ;; Hi Anon! I know halloween is over but this is such a good idea i couldn’t miss out on it!! By the way, in each one of the yandere stories, Y/N has a slightly different personality. So I wasn't sure whether you wanted me to do multiple Y/N’s or just one. So I decided to combine the personalities into one. Good luck<3 (please let me know if there are any mistakes.)

CLICK HERE FOR MY MASTERLIST (intro to all the yanderes)

╰────༺♡༻────╯

Hopeless. You felt hopeless as your left arm was dragged around like a piece of meat by the girl no one swore to mess with

“Come on babe~! Wear the angel wings, we have to be matching!” Reina grits her teeth as she attempts to place the wings onto your unwilling back. The fire headed girl gives up with a scoff in her throat before walking over to your mirror and reapplying her dark red lipstick, adjusting the horns that perfectly matched with her crimson wavy hair.

How did she even get into Y/Ns house in the first place?

You remember pretty clearly. Today is the 31st of October. You were well aware that it was halloween and perfectly content with staying inside your humble abode. You’d buy a bunch of bulk cheap candy and scarf it down whilst watching some classic horror movies. Not enough to scare you, but to make you physically cringe.

That was the plan, Perfect right? There would be nothing to stop you from having a peaceful night of binge watching shitty films.

Apart from the three vastly different individuals who were all pining over you. Though they were complete opposites, they all had a way grinding your gears and irritating you to no end.

Reina, the delinquent who made your life as the school president 10x worse. She’d constantly hang around you during lunch and break, surrounded by her delinquent friends who’d make jokes you wouldn’t get but would laugh in fear of getting made fun of. Not to mention the lessons you’d have to miss in order to supervise her during the detentions she had purposely got. You think you spend more time with her then you spend eating the gross lunch your school provides.

Kieran, the playboy who suddenly switched up his entire role once he realised you weren’t interested in him like the others were. God, if only you pretended like you were. Maybe that would’ve stopped him from bothering you in all your science classes with his weird sexual jokes or flirty overbearing personality. Yeah he was a bit funny and maybe he sometimes made your day with his stupid jokes but that came crashing down once he would say his tenth pick up line to you all in one lesson.

And then there’s Alex, the jock who’s the captain of the football team, a tad bit stupid but still had the personality of the literal sun, which made him the most tolerable but still pretty overwhelming for your average dream life. He was the last one to pop up in your weird harem, he stuck around you like a lost puppy once he realised you didn’t like his team. “I’ll make sure you like me, no matter what!” — were his exact words.

These individuals had a very high reputation in school, most people liked them and often idolised them. So, why were they all vying for your attention? People would go to great lengths to be in your shoes, yet all you desired was to lead an ordinary student's life.

Your internal monologue was abruptly interrupted by the ringing of your phone, and you didn't even have a moment to guess who might be calling before the sound reached your ears (You would've had two guesses). -- In response, Reina let out an exasperated groan and struts over to you.

She confidently picks up your phone and shuts it off before snapping her fingers in your face.

“How have you still not put the wings on.. god what would you do without me!” If you didn’t know any better, from the tone of her voice you’d think she was annoyed. But in reality you noticed the glint in her eyes. She was genuinely pleased that she had gotten to help you. Happy that you had to ‘rely’ on her.

“Probably live a peaceful life” You murmur under your breath, not realising the close proximity of you two until she snaps her sharp eyes to your tired gaze.

"Excuse me?" The green-eyed girl arched her eyebrows, her lips forming a grimace of annoyance.

“I said I would probably live a very sad life.” You quickly defer, letting out a sigh of relief once she relaxes her eyebrows and shows you a soft smirk.

Reina grabs her bag and sprays perfume onto her body, walking over to your bedroom door before abruptly stopping, throwing her arms up. “Come on then! We can't be too fashionably late~” You curse whoever invented halloween parties, and trail behind her.

Just ten minutes into the party, and you were already contemplating grabbing that cowboy-clad stranger’s prop gun and pretending to shoot yourself with it. Music boomed against your ears, drawing out any coherent thought as the smoke from Reinas cigarette mingles in the air. It was as if your personal space ceased to exist, with the red haired girl's body pressing against yours, her presence enveloping you. The sensation became overwhelming, the close proximity sent shivers down your spine. You had no ability to escape, seeing as the delinquent had her friends form a tight circle around you both, acting as protective guards you didn't need or want. There was no room to escape for you, too intimidated to say a word.

“Hey Y/N!! Is that you?!” A loud voice shouted amidst the music, crowd and smoke. Reinas whole friend group snaps towards the noise, seeing who dared to interrupt the leader with her ‘beloved’. Despite Alex being faced with gnarly stares, all he could see was his cutie dressed like an angel. He settles his drink down on a nearby table, exchanges hurried farewells with his football teammates, and rushes his way towards you.

The tall friendly giant had no struggles breaking the circle you were trapped in. It was like the sun beaming past a bunch of angsty rain clouds, two things you usually dreaded. But in that moment, you found yourself silently praising the towering, 6 '6 human puppy as he enveloped you in a massive bear hug.

As he released you, his strong arms remained on your shoulders, and he beamed at you with eyes that formed crescent moon shapes.

He stuttered an apology for the sudden physical contact before staring at you up and down with his doe like eyes and a massive grin. “Wow…you look stunning, like a true angel. You’re my angel!” He giggles proudly because of the cheesy line he made. The jock completely disregards his earlier apology as he wraps you in another tight hug. You murmur a ‘thanks’ and lightly tap his back in return, your lips thinning with a hint of awkwardness as you look around and notice Reina's friend group staring at the two of you as though you'd just committed a crime. Alex's firm grip gradually loosens as he comes to a realisation, and he reluctantly lets you go, you notice his boyish grin turned into a pout. “I invited you to this party, I bought a whole matching outfit and everything! You told me you couldn't come!” The brown eyed male whines , his brows furrowing as his beady eyes bore into your soul. During this moment, you couldn't help scrutinise his Halloween costume.

‘Did he seriously just throw on his jersey with some fake blood around his neck..’ you pondered silently, shooting him a disapproving stare due to the minimal effort he had put into his outfit

Your initial expression of curiosity transformed into one of slight disgust when you realised that the intended matching costume was going to be ‘the jock and his cheerleader’

‘How original’ You thought sarcastically.

For the second time this night, your thoughts were interrupted, but this time it wasn't a ringing phone. It was Alex’s voice, laced with sadness whining in your ear. He pouts as he gazes down at you, gently poking your halo headband, waiting for your response.

“Basically what happ-”

Before you could even begin to explain that you had no intention of attending the party, regardless of who insisted, not until the delinquent showed up at your doorstep and mildly threatened you, your words were cut short. The moment was disrupted as she forcibly pushed the sulky jock away from you.

Despite her noticeable lack of height compared to the towering jock, Reinas attitude definitely made up for it.

‘Speak of the devil..metaphorically and quite literally.’ You snort at your own joke, before quickly composing yourself and directing your attention to the scene unfolding in front of you.

Alex and Reina, two people who couldn't be any more different but they were both madly in love with you. In school, you had always managed to avoid confrontations involving the both of them, but it appeared luck wasn't on your side tonight.

“Who do you think you are, barging into this conversation where no one invited you? Don't you have dumb shit to attend to? Like shotgunning a dozen beers?” the delinquent spoke with a withering glare, she grabbed your arm and forcefully pulled you away from him. The crowded party left little room to manoeuvre, so she practically made you turn your back on him to ensure you were separated.

Unfortunately for her, that allowed the charismatic loveable jock to shed his facade, and shoot her an uncharacteristically intense gaze. His eyes grew dark and his typically cheerful face contorted into a look of hatred and envy Though it only lasted for a second, anyone who would’ve seen it, the memory would linger in their thoughts for days.

Reina, being unlike anyone else, didn't perceive his gaze as a threat, but rather as a golden retriever attempting to imitate a wolf. She scoffed and protectively grabbed your hand.

"I'm pretty sure forcing Y/N to be surrounded by your..." The jock paused, glancing at each of Reina's friends, carefully choosing not to insult them, not out of fear, but out of respect with his beloved watching. ".. interesting group of friends might not be comfortable for her. Anyways, don't you guys have more fun plans, like commit vandalism?" He delivered with a cheerful tone, tilting his head to the side in a display of ‘adorable’ confusion.

While the male may come across as unintelligent there are some quirks to his character that reveal a different perspective. He possesses a unique knack for framing his words and expressing himself in a manner that radiates positivity.

‘He’s so stupid and oblivious , he doesn’t mean what he says!! He's just asking a question, he means no harm!’ — is what most people think.

But Reina, being a delinquent who often deals with various groups of people, can read him like a book. She knows he’s showing less than what he truly is. What he can truly become. And although she doesn’t give a shit about how he acts around others, she knows he’s interested in her Y/N — and that’s why he needs to stay away from her girl at all costs.

With Reinas anger level rising, she lets out an annoyed grunt before softly pushing you back, The delinquent puts one finger on the jocks chest.

You think for a second that you should probably step in, Not because you want to but because you have no idea who will win. Reina most definitely has a weapon in her bag somewhere and also her group of friends who would kill to protect her surround you three but Alex’s strength and height can cover that. Though from what you know the delinquent is a lot more aggressive than the ‘pacifist’ himbo so he may have a bit of a disadvantage.

Nonetheless, you decide not to intervene and just watch the two idiots fight it out. It's not your issue right? You didn't need any more attention than you already had coming to this party tonight.

As they both stare at each other, Reina opens her mouth to speak but gets cut off by someone tapping her back. One of her friends grabs her arm and she turns a whole 180 degrees, ready to scream at whoever is trying to hold her back. Her eyes are narrowed as she pushes the said friend away from her. “What the fuck is your issue, Thomas?!” You now learned who the guy's name was, Thomas. He was dressed as a pirate and barely flinched when Reina screamed at her. He must've been used to it. All he does is show her phone, and mutters “Look at who's calling you.” Reina’s angry expression turns into one of disbelief as she roughly grabs the phone away from his hands. She looks at Alex one last time with a scoff before she excused herself for a moment and engaged in a heated argument with the caller. You couldn't help but overhear snippets of their exchange — it was clear that Reina was being pressured to leave the party. She hung up, her face etched with reluctance, and then turned to you.

"Babe, I've got to go, I'll still be at the party. " she said, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "Just promise me you'll head home soon, okay?" Your face drops into a frown, though you didn't particularly like the aggressive delinquent, she was one of the only people you knew at this party.. Well except for the man who's staring at you with love struck eyes as of right now. Before you could say anything, Reina left your side, with the group of delinquents who followed. She didn't forget to barge into Alex as she was leaving, though it didn't really affect him — he was too focused on the fact that he was alone with you right now.

The overexcited jock happily grabs your arm and drags you around the whole house of the party, Although he was meant to be giving you a supposed ‘tour’; you noticed he was just staring deeply at your face whilst speaking. You came to the conclusion that he didn't really know what he was doing, he just wanted to impress you.

Amid the swirling costumes and pulsating music, You felt as if you were caught in a whirlwind. Every step you took was accompanied by Alex, who remained steadfastly close. The bulky man stayed close, like an overprotective guard dog, as you both navigated the crowd. Y/N couldn't help but feel suffocated by his constant presence. You desperately needed a moment of peace, a brief escape from his watchful eyes. You decide to ask him for a favour, of course he’d help you.

You finally mustered the courage to speak up, tugging at the edge of Alex's costume and turning to him with a gentle but tired smile. "Hey, Alex, do you mind getting me a drink? I could really use a break."

The jock beamed at you, happy that you trusted him enough to do something for you. ‘That must mean you like him right?! That's how it works!!’

"Of course, Y/N," he replied, his voice warm and reassuring. "I'll be right back with your drink. Just stay right here, okay?"

You nodded gratefully, allowing yourself a sigh of relief as Alex disappeared into the crowd, determined to fulfil your request. The distance that had separated them, albeit briefly, was a welcome change, and you could breathe a little easier.

Although he told you to stay where you were, you began to wander around and observe the revelry around you. People in all manner of costumes danced, drank, and got a little too comfortable with each other.

You let out a yelp as you open a door to a couple grinding on each other. Murmuring a dozen apologies, you leave the room flustered.

As you lose yourself in your thoughts and in the house, you notice a familiar white haired male approaching you, with a wide cheshire grin, Kieran; the host of the party.

The playboy moved through the crowd with an air of confidence and intrigue. He was dressed up as… a prisoner with handcuffs. Or as he’d probably say ‘a sexy prisoner.’ ‘Please don't come here, please don't come here, please don't come here.’ Is the phrase that repeatedly pops up in your head as you try to look at anything but him.

“Boo!” The playboy whispers in your ears as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. He then turns you around and ignores the pout on your face, Inspecting your outfit whilst biting his lips.

“Are you done eye-fucking me?” you sneered, crossing your arms as you tried to move slightly away from the playful male. "Oh man, you would've looked prettier as a princess~" he purred, his voice carrying a flirtatious undertone, his words accompanied by a roguish grin. You were clearly no stranger to Kieran's personality and annoying nickname for you. You roll your eyes and retort "Well I'd rather not deal with the whole 'damsel in distress' shit tonight," a hint of sarcasm laced in your response.

Kieran laughed, unbothered by your resistance. "Ooh but I'd have so much fun saving you princess~!” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "But what made you change your mind coming to my party? I rang your phone like two hours ago and you didn't pick up.” He questions with a raised eyebrow, his sly smirk still displayed on his face before he laughs.

“Missed my face that much huh? Should’ just said! Would've came running to you.”

You couldn't be bothered to talk about how you were forced to come to this stupid party, and also not wanting to mention Reina because for some reason they both had some weird dislikement towards each other. “Just had a change of heart.” You say before turning around and attempting to walk away from Kieran, but again luck wasn't on your side as he grabs your arm and tuts. The dimly lit room with the midst of the crowd, made you focus on the playful man's eyes and you noticed a shine in his eyes whilst staring at you. Before you could tell him to let you go,he whispers closely to you, so close that you could faintly smell the alcohol and mint laced in his breath. “Hey this is my party y’know? Let me show you a more secluded area, perfect for an introvert like you~” He teases as he drags your arm downstairs, and into one of the rooms which he had to twist to unlock. You silently cuss the playboy as you notice his entire group of so-called friends in the room. LED lights which displayed red, multiple couples in the room doing God knows what.

As you both walk further into the room, Kieran, too busy dabbing up people who you never once saw in your life, You notice a pile of unlabeled drugs and drinks on the table that was in the centre of the room. Quickly looking away, you squint your eyes as you try to notice anyone that you’re familiar with. In the corner of the room, there's a girl wearing a red corset with red horns, matching yours. You notice her angry expression as she converses with the two people around her. It was Reina. She notices your gaze and her face slightly softens, As she approaches you, she notices your arm being held by Kieran. Her face returns to the expression of which you first saw in the room. The white haired male doesn't notice the vexed delinquent yet, and he stares at your face in confusion as he notices you watching something, following your line of view he finally sees the girl wearing the devil costume. “Oh hey! Didn't know I invited you to my party?” He says playfully, but you notice the snark in his voice. Reina seems to notice it too as her face contorts into one of jealousy. “You guys know each other?” She questions, her question directed towards mostly you. Your hands begin to sweat as you attempt to stutter out an excuse, but for the second time this night, the living sun in human form interrupts your conversation by walking into the room, except this time he didn't have a happy expression, it was evident that he was sulking.

Your eyes drift to his hands, noticing the drink in his hands that you had specifically asked for. ‘Shit..’ you think to yourself and for the first time you felt bad for the jock. You didn't mean to leave him for that long! It was more of Kierans fault for dragging you away. “I have your drink Y/N…” He says with wide eyes and pursed lips, clearly upset that you had just left him. With an apologetic gaze, you gently take the drink away from his grasp with a thank you, as you look away with a little guilt. “Oh my god, not this freak here again!” Reina scorns,disdain in her face as she stares at both Alex and Kieran, they stare back with disgust. The entire school year, these three constantly hung around you and you still managed to never make them interact whilst you were there, in fear of any of these bold characters causing a scene. But of course, the one day where you especially didn't want to see any of them, they all surround you possessively with jealousy tangled in their eyes. Could this night get any worse? -

It most definitely can. You managed to calm them down and now you're all sat in a circle, with random people you don't know. Kieran sat down next to you on the right, while Alex occupied the seat on the left, and Reina sat across from you, clearly not happy with the seating arrangements.

Whilst the room was filled with chatter, one of Kieran's friends mentioned a board game that you've never heard about that supposedly had the power to ‘summon demons.’

The suggestion hung in the air, Kieran laughed at the idea and laughed harder as he noticed the uncomfortable look in your face.

“Don't worry babe, i'll protect you~” He whispers in your ear, Reina notices you two conversing but can't hear what he told you, Her already green eyes appear even greener as she looks away enviously. The idea was met with hesitance, but with Kieran's playful persuasion, everyone reluctantly agreed to try it.

As the game commenced, Alex clutched onto your arm, his protectiveness reaching new heights. The friendly giants sends you a look of comfort. Reina, on the other hand, grew increasingly annoyed and impatient, wanting to leave this messed up party. Still, she begrudgingly stayed, unwilling to abandon her beloved in this situation.

The group followed the game's instructions, and to their shock, the room filled with an eerie energy. The lights began to flicker and in an instant it turned off, most of the room ran away screaming, not caring about the party anymore. Others began to laugh with interest and waited for what was going to happen next. a sinister figure formed in the centre of their makeshift circle. You freeze as you notice the demon (?), he is fucking terrifying but inspecting him closer the extremely tall thing is quite.. handsome?

A malevolent demon with smouldering eyes and a sinister grin, stood before everyone. Panic coursed through the room, and everyone, including yourself , scrambled to flee. As you attempted to escape, the demon swiftly locked the door, trapping you inside with Alex, Reina, and Kieran.

With a devilish chuckle, The demon introduced himself as Silas. The red faced man turned his attention to you. He took your chin in his hand, his touch chilling to the bone. His nails dug sharply into your skin. "You're prettier than the angels we have where I'm from" he hissed, his voice dripping with lust.

Your heart raced with fear and arousal as you looked into Silas's eyes, a shiver running down your spine. Alex and Reina attempted to interject, their voices laced with fear and anger, but Silas silenced them with a mere flick of his fingers, flooding their minds with endorphins that dulled their resistance. Kieran seemed to be less affected by whatever poison Silas had put out as he grabs Y/Ns arm towards his chest. “I don't know what the hell you are but she's mine, get in line” Kieran jokes, not scared of the situation at all. You send him the dirtiest look possible as Silas laughs mockingly at the playboys statement.

As the night wore on, and the party raged outside, Y/N, Alex, Reina, and Kieran were trapped with this demon who had an interest in you for some strange reason. Well, everyone in this room has some abnormal interest in you and it seems that you're quite literally trapped in a room with people who would do anything for you. Even if that means fighting a demon.

Desperation welled up in your body as you realised the dire situation that you were stuck in. "How am I supposed to leave now?" you whisper to yourself, noticing 4 gazes staring at you with different expressions but they all contained one thing, Lust.

Did Silas forget to mention that he was a succubus?

purerae<3

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS HEAVILY APPRECIATED.

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year

Text

Under The Willow Tree | MYG

Title: Under The Willow Tree

Pairing: Bad Boy!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (T) | One Shot, Small Town AU, S2F2L, Implied Age Gap, Slow Burn, Angst, Touch of Fluff, Darker Subject Matter, First Kiss, Silce of Life

Summary: The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

Warnings: PG16, some not necessarily positive non-specific religious discussions, people using religion in a negative may, plot twisty, cursing, kissing, semi-apparent abandonment issues, discussions of dead parents and guardians, mentions of alcoholism in a parent, mentions of illness in a parent, yoongi has tattoos and a motorcycle, motorcycle lessons, longing, mishandled emotions, catharsis.

Word Count: 7401

Release Date: April 10, 2023, 4:05PM

A/N 1: This happened due to a writing prompts post I shared sometime in late march. I’m quite proud of it considering I hadn’t planned anything so the entire story was written as I was writing. Very different than my normal writing process.

A/N 2: Thank you endlessly to @borahae-k, @katykatmeow, @here4btsfics and @phthartic-fox for beta’ing this. I love you all for your help, support and kindness.

It happened under a willow tree. A weeping willow.

Your favourite willow, to be specific. Even though there’s just the one.

It’s by the pond deep in the woods behind your house, where you watch ducks swim through the long, wispy branches that just reach its shore. Where you sit at the base, waiting for the sun to set the sky ablaze with colour as it falls into the horizon for another good night's sleep.

The one under which you had your first kiss.

You’d been waiting. Wanting it to be special, with the right person.

But a brief brush of soft, pink lips with the last person you ever expected had you wanting more, more, more.

It’d been a few months since he started coming to the willow. You’d assumed for the same reason you did.

To get away. From anyone and everything.

There aren’t many places in your hometown that allow for privacy, and you imagined he needed it more than anyone. Somewhere far from the residents' judgmental stares that were always nothing less than smothering.

Hailing from a very small, very rural, religious town where everybody’s known everyone for generations, your community is one where you follow in the footsteps of your parents and grandparents before them.

Where your life is already decided for you at birth, whether you know it or not.

Copy. Paste.

Copy.

Paste.

You’re born there; either at home with a midwife or in the one floor hospital down the main road. Raised there; a hand-me-down wearing, bike riding, creek-playing child.

You go to school there; stuck inside the same four walls from the ages of 4 to 18. Get your driver's licence there; from the sheriff after a road test that a 9 year old could pass.

You graduate there; from the same high school your friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents went to. Get a job; in town or on a farm, the only two options there are.

And marry there; before 25, lest you become a spinster, subject to the gossip vultures also known as your neighbours. Then have some kids before growing old and dying, your permanent resting place dug in the same graveyard as everyone else that came before you.

Copy.

Paste.

It’s a suffocating fate that petrified you to your core. And you’ve known you didn’t want it for as long as you can remember.

You never liked their rules. Didn’t want to become one of them, to do as they do, live the way they live.

You’d skillfully escaped making any true friends as you grew older, but kept the people you could tolerate close enough to not be bored on weekends. They’re all temporary placeholders in your life anyway, people who sound like robots stuck in the same settings. People who would hold you back.

What’s worst of all is that you don’t share the religion they claim to be so hallowed and wonderful. The one that’s unwittingly forced them all into this life of monotonous repetition.

You dream of more. Of life outside this dreaded purgatory.

Of leaving.

But no one ever leaves. They’re stuck here, in this downwards spiral of life you’re so desperately trying to dig yourself out of. It makes you feel like a fraud, constantly pretending to be one of them. Always wearing a mask just to make it to the next day alive, unharmed by them and their values.

It makes you feel like there’s always a pair of eyes watching, waiting for you to mess up and reveal your blasphemous self.

You’re terrified they’ll discover the truth. Terrified of the ostracisation that will come the second they know you aren’t one of them.

You’ve seen it in real time. What they do to people who don’t conform.

Seen how they treat him.

Two years older. Bleach blond hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. A leather jacket he wears like armour with all black clothes to match. And last, but certainly not least, a motorcycle.

You daydreamed about that bike. Taking it and riding far, far away.

The busybodied people of your town never had a kind word to be said about him. Instead, choosing to call him any and every horrible name under the sun.

Beast, bastard, demon, monster, criminal.

Unable to understand him, understand anyone different.

They herd their children away from him in the streets; parting like the Red Sea when he walks by.

As if he were acid.

As if he was evil itself, and not just a young man.

You’ve never even heard him speak because no one dares to talk to him, worried any contact could turn them, seduce them into whatever his sick ways were.

And you’re ashamed to admit you’re one of them…sort of.

You aren’t worried about speaking to him, you’re worried about what being seen speaking with him will do to you.

You’re someone whose only salvation from complete and total social isolation relies on fitting in.

And even if it kills you to pretend, you only need to do it for a little while longer.

You just had to make it to college. You’d be the first one in decades to go. Their mindset of ‘you have everything you need here so why bother leaving’ having not once in your life resonated.

You can deal with them and all of their beliefs about what you should do with your life for the short hours of school and occasional shifts at the diner, so long as you can escape to your willow tree, you’ll be okay.

The weeping willow in the middle of the forest behind your house is the only one in the area. You never understood why that is, but it’s your oasis away from everything you hate.

The tips of its branches sway rhythmically in the wind, and moss creeps up its trunk. It’s surrounded by dense, plush grass for you to sit on, and after all the years of sitting in the same spot, a little groove in the shape of your body has formed at its base.

Its canopy protects you from the outside world, creating a space where you don't have to hide. Where you can proudly be yourself without fear. Where you spend as much of your time as you possibly can to keep your sanity intact.

No one bothers you here.

Your mum died years ago from an illness they never diagnosed, her plot in the town’s graveyard long since filled.

And your dad never notices you gone, too drunk in your house up on the hill to care.

So as long as there’s a constant supply of food on the counter and beer in the fridge, you’re free to do as you please.

Under the willow you do your homework and sketch. You take pictures and eat breakfasts and lunches and dinners. You listen to music and dance under the safety of its shade.

Under the willow you read great adventure novels, and dream you’re the protagonists whisked away on grand adventures. Anywhere but here.

Under the willow is your home away from home. Next to the pond, under the stars.

So it’s to your great surprise when an unexpected guest pries open the curtain of flowing foliage one spring afternoon. A bleached blond, leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, guest.

You don’t see him at first, too focused on the sketchpad in front of you. He steps in, and watches you work quietly, waiting for you to notice him.

You fascinate him. Every other girl in town can be found at one of three places, yet you were never at any of them. Not at the restaurant sipping on a milkshake. Not at the library studying. And not at the church volunteering.

You’re always elsewhere.

And he’s finally figured out where that is.

He was nervous at first. To follow you. You’d never spoken but that wasn’t anything new to him. No one in this town ever did.

Not to him.

But you don’t look down at him like the others do. Or jump out of the way when he walks by. You don’t tear away from his gaze as fast as the others. You hold on, even if for just a second longer.

Unknowingly, you’ve captivated him more than anyone else he’s ever met.

So he followed you to see where you vanish off to, not expecting you to go into the forest behind your house.

For a half second he considered you dangerous, because what on earth could you be getting up to in a forest for hours? But as he trailed the sounds of your footsteps and saw the small clearing with the tree, it began to make sense.

After jumping ten feet from seeing something tall and dark in your periphery, you exhale a large breath when you realise you aren’t in any danger, and shake out the nerves.

You’d normally worry he was there to hurt you, but something in you knew he never would. Never could. Maybe it was the look he gave as he regarded you.

Soft. Wistful even.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wary. The first words you’ve ever spoken to him.

Barely contained inside the limits of the willows perimeter, he shrugs, and takes a long look around your little sanctuary.

And as he does, you get your first real look at him.

He’s handsome. Stoically so. And for only a moment do you wonder about all the stories hidden behind his eyes.

The ones now focused on you.

“Wanted to see where you disappear to. You’re never in town.”

So what if you were never in town? Why did he care? Wait—How did he know? Does he pay attention to you?

…Why you?

You didn’t think he cared to notice anyone in this town, let alone you enough to know you don’t follow the social expectations of someone your age.

To pick up on the fact that you’re never there at all.

It makes a million things run through your mind—Why does he care about where you go? What about you is so special? Does he even know your name?—before one resounding thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

Can you trust him?

No one else in this town does, but all of their reasons are superficial bullshit.

All you know is you don’t know the first thing about him, and that now he knows about the one place you feel safe.

“That’s intentional,” you say, cautious. Not giving away anything but not saying much either.

“Can’t blame you,” he responds, before checking out the rooftop of bright green and muttering, “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

Those four words alone are all you need.

He gets it.

“Yeah.”

Maybe you can trust him.

Observing each other for a silent minute, there seems to be an unspoken understanding forming between the two of you.

And he shoves his hands in his pockets, asking, “Mind company?”

You think about it for only a second.

No. No you didn’t.

“As long as you’re quiet. I’m trying to focus,” pointing the eraser end of your pencil to the sketchpad on your lap. “The cattail leaves are the hardest to get the lines right.”

He nods, finally breaking free of his position at the branch's edge. Nearing the base of the tree, he crouches down, about a quarter of the trunk's diameter away from you. It’s close enough to still see each other, but far enough to not bump into one another.

And before nestling in fully, he extends a tattooed hand to you.

“Yoongi.”

An introduction.

“Y/N,” you return, putting your pencil down in the crease of your pad and shaking.

His hand is calloused, the ones you get from years of working with your hands. And strong, a firm grip. The kind you’d want to pull you up if you were dangling over a cliff.

So many stories contained in a 3 second touch. Yet you find yourself wanting to know all of them.

Releasing, he settles in.

What surprises you most about the whole encounter isn’t his arrival, or speaking to him for the first time, or even the handshake.

It’s that when he’s comfortable, with one leg up for an elbow to rest upon, he digs a book out from the confines of his jacket.

Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island.

Your favourite.

Spring fades into a wonderful summer of late nights and early mornings. Of beautiful blue skies and vivid sunsets you appreciate a little more now that you have someone to share them with.

Yoongi comes almost, if not, every day to the willow. Always a different book in hand. Always one of the classics.

The Iliad, 1984, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Anna Karina, Dracula, Little Women, Frankenstein, Catcher in the Rye, and those are just the ones you can remember because you’ve read them too. Some of them more than once.

You never expected to have anything in common with the boy that sits next to you. But from the little you’ve spoken to one another over the months, you’ve found that you share so much more than just reading habits.

On a warm April afternoon he told you he reads because he loves it but also to escape the daily hell that is your town.

“Mmm, what’s your favourite?” you’d asked.

Yoongi was lying down with an arm behind his head, staring into the treetop. Brave New World sat opened and facedown on his chest, his hand resting atop it.

“Pride and Prejudice.”

That was the last answer you expected.

“Why?”

He lifts his head to look at you.

“I thought the answer would’ve been obvious.”

After a cold drink on a hot June morning he told you his dreams of moving across the country. As far away as he could get.

“Just have to save up enough money first.”

You wondered how he made any. He definitely didn’t work anywhere in town…maybe waiting to inherit?

Who knew?

Both on a blanket you’d brought, Yoongi’s lying opposite and beside you, his feet by your hips. He used his balled up jacket as a pillow while you sat in your usual spot, capturing the way the branches swayed in your sketchpad.

He’d taken to reading to you while you drew, including you in the grand stories he now knew you loved to read too.

That day he had The Great Gatsby, a story you’d read about 20 times.

You often dreamed of attending one of his parties. Of seeing the green light across the way, or having a conversation with Nick, why he stayed.

“Are you anywhere close?” you asked, in reference to his saving goals.

“Getting there,” was all he gave.

And on a miserable, rainy night in the middle of August, is when you learned he’s all on his own.

Sitting beside each other, you both huddled underneath his jacket for what little protection from the rain it could give. Water droplets fell from the tips of his bangs as he spoke.

“My parents died in a car crash when I was 9, and then my grandma who took care of me, when I was 15.”

You grieved for him as he told you his story.

How he had to raise himself.

Just like you did.

“I’m sorry,” you’d replied gently. Softly. Knowing how it felt to have no one support you. No one to help you.

Knowing how it felt to be alone.

You understood.

You did, you did, you did.

Yoongi just stared at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. And you’d wondered if any of the water on his face was salty as he breathed out a quiet and heartbreaking, “Thank you.”

It made you question how many kind words he’d heard since his family passed.

And also incredibly pissed off at the people in your town for how they’d treated him.

How you’d…treated him.

A silent promise was made then and there. Never having felt more embarrassed and furious with yourself than in that moment. You’d learned your lesson, and hoped that offering up your own piece of vulnerability might help him feel not so alone.

Though you watched the rain turn the pond into a canvas of vibration as you did. Words dragged from the deepest parts of your soul, burning the back of your throat as they left.

“My dad hasn’t been sober a day since my mom died. His eyes are turning yellow,” you said, hugging yourself to stop shaking, convinced yourself it was because of the cold.

Even though it was August.

“He doesn’t recognize me most of the time.”

You closed your eyes, a familiar tang washing over your tongue as you licked the water dripping from your lips. He gave no response, but an arm found its way over your shoulders and squeezed.

He understood.

It’s the beginning of September. The air’s started to nip at your cheeks, and the ground crunches a little more everyday with all of the leaves falling underfoot.

The tips of the willows leaves have begun to turn the colour of the morning sun, and by the time mid October rolls around, it’ll look like golden hour every hour of the day.

Yoongi finally tells you about the job he has at a mechanic's in the next town over. He explains how they don’t pay him nearly what they should, but he doesn’t complain because every cent brings him closer to leaving.

Just him and his bike.

You turn sheepish.

“Can I tell you something?”

He sits closer after all this time, more comfortable around one another. Still not enough to touch, not crossing that invisible boundary line, but enough that you don’t have to turn your head much anymore to see his eyes.

Brown and endless.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take a deep breath.

“I kind of always dreamed of taking your bike to get away from here and never come back.” He gives you a look and you shrug. “Seemed the easiest route to take.”

A smile that starts as a smirk turns into a healthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You demand. He has to calm himself down a bit before answering.

“You just uhm…don’t seem the criminal type to me, Cattails.”

There’s a flutter of something in your chest at the stupid nickname. For the drawing you did the day you met.

He continues, unaware of the goings on inside you. “Stealing? You? Nah. Not a chance.”

You open your mouth in mock outrage, scrunching your brow and bringing a hand to your chest.

“I’ll have you know I’d make an excellent criminal,” you lie to his face. He knows it too.

But giving in, you detail the plan you’d always kept in your head for emergencies, heat slowly rising in your cheeks with every word.

“I’d take the key from you when you weren’t looking, duplicate it at the hardware store, and slip it back into your pocket before you ever noticed it was gone. Then go to your place in the middle of the night and be halfway across the country before morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with a raised brow you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a little too much faux confidence.

“And where do I keep my key, Y/N? Hmm?”

“Your jacket pocket,” you’d deduced long ago.

“Mmm,” he tsks with a shake of his head. “Nope.”

Oh. Well then it must be,

“Your pants pocket?”

“Nuh uh, try again.”

Damnit!

You’d never thought much about it. How many places can someone keep a key on them without a bag and it not be in their pockets?

“Ummm, in your wallet?” Far-fetched but worth a shot.

“Ooo,” he blows through pursed lips before smirking at you again, but this one was different. It caused something very deep inside of you to turn to lava. “Good guess, but also no.”

Closing his book and setting it down, Yoongi straightens and reaches inside the collar of his shirt, retrieving a necklace you didn’t know he wore.

It’s small, the key, and almost silver. The colouring is tarnished from years of use, with worn teeth and some lettering at its base.

He holds it against a palm to show you.

“Why there?” You ask, wondering if there’s a reason aside from convenience.

With a sad tug of his lips, he answers. “Bike was my dads. I like to keep him close.”

A tender smile meets your own plush as you stare at the little key, appreciating it more after learning the importance it has to him.

And Yoongi watches you, viewing his ticket to freedom with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen, full of that same compassion and understanding you’ve always given him.

An understanding he didn’t think he’d ever see again from this place.

One he doesn’t know if he deserves.

Before you can respond, he’s taking the chain off and sliding it over your head, hand lingering for a second longer than necessary at your nape.

“Yoongi,” you hesitate.

It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.

You like the way it feels on your tongue. Warm, sweet. Like honey.

What you don’t know is he loves the way it sounds coming from you.

You falter. “W-what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“But it’s your key! Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, got a spare in the storage compartment of the bike,” he says, gesturing to the one you now hold in your palms. “This way you won’t have to go through the hassle of stealing it.”

“But I—”

“Keep it,” he cuts you off. “In case you need it more than I do.”

It never leaves your neck.

“You want me to what?” You ask as you walk towards the forest edge, Yoongi trailing on your left.

“Take her out for a spin. See if you even can. You’re the one who has all these grand plans but doesn’t even know how to turn it on,” he explains, referring to his motorcycle.

“Those were just daydreamed plans! I never thought I’d actually use them! What if I crash?”

He was kidding right? He must be.

For all the time you two have spent together, you’ve never spoken or been around one another in public. An unspoken agreement.

What happens under the willow tree, stays under the willow tree.

So to be out in the open? On his bike? You don’t know if you can. Or if you should.

But then you remember a promise you made not long ago.

“You won’t crash,” he says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“How do you know? Like you said, I don’t even know how to turn it on,” you hmph.

“Because I’ll be there.”

And maybe it’s the tone of voice he uses, or the fact that you trust him, you find yourself saying,

“Okay, fine.”

Minutes later you’re swinging a leg over the bike, and sinking on to the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Where do I put the key?” You ask, taking it from your neck and handing it over.

Yoongi puts it in the side of the motorcycle, somewhere close to your knee.

“Here,” he shows as he turns it to the ‘ON’ position.

“Oh.”

What a weird place for an ignition.

“Mhm,” he acknowledges, then points. “Put your hand on the brake, it’s the part that sticks out on the right hand side. Hold it firmly against the handlebar. Don’t roll the handle bar itself back though, okay? That’s the throttle.”

Doing what he says, you hold the brake tight against the handle bar, murmuring an ‘okay’ under your breath.

“Now hit that button there on the right to let the fuel pump start up,” referring to the button beside the brake near your thumb. You do so.

He checks a little gauge on the side near the ignition. Seemingly pleased, he continues. “And now hit the button on the left to start it.”

Following his words once again, the engine roars to life the second the button is pressed, purring powerfully.

You feel exhilarated and a little terrified. But he’s here. You know you’re safe.

Voice a little louder to combat the noise from the motor, he says, “Okay, now on the left handle bar, grab the clutch. I’ll show you how to move into first gear, and look at me,” your eyes meet his, “do not let go of the clutch.”

You nod, but for extra precaution, he clamps his hand over the one you have holding it. You watch as he bends to put your left foot on a pedal and presses it down till you hear a pop, pushing up the kickstand when he rises.

The bike is heavy, now that you’re the only thing keeping it up right, you can feel its weight. And you understand why they’re designed to be able to have your feet on the ground even when sitting. You’d probably fall over otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable you let me know, yeah? And if you get scared just do what you’re doing now with this hand,” he squeezes for emphasis, “it’ll take all the power away from the engine and you’ll just coast until you stop, okay?”

“Okay!” You say, more excited by the minute. Your toes and fingertips are starting to tingle.

“I‘m gonna let go and you’re going to very, very slowly let up on the clutch—not all the way. Just enough that you move at about a pedal bike's pace. Let me jog down the road about 50 feet or so, and then you meet me there. Hold tight to the clutch again when you’re about 20 feet from me and I’ll catch you. Sound good?”

Nodding one more time in confirmation, nerves crawl all over your skin. You can’t describe the new feeling fully, but the closest you can find to it is probably the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.

You watch as Yoongi jogs down the road, throws his hands up over his head, and gives you two big thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly release some pressure off the clutch and begin to move forwards. You know your feet are supposed to go on the metal foot rests below you, but you're so focused on not falling or crashing that you just stick them out so they don’t touch the ground.

Halting your left hands release at the speed he said to, you cruise along, wind picking up with your increased pace.

Holy shit!

You’re riding a motorcycle!

You never thought you could, it was just a dream for so long. Something you kept in the back of your mind just for fun, but now you’re actually doing it! Your driving down the road on an actual real life motorcycle!? All by yourself!?

Turns out all you needed was a little encouragement and someone you trust to spot you.

Aiming for Yoongi, you clamp down on the clutch once again, cutting power to the engine. You drift right into his awaiting hands braced for the impact, and he slides a little on the gravel road before getting you to a full stop.

He presses one of the buttons you did earlier and the bike shuts down, allowing you to jump off.

You’re positively giddy.

“Oh my god did you see me?! I just did that! I just drove a motorcycle! Can you believe it?! I can’t believe I just did that!” You don’t even register what you're saying, too full of excitement to care.

Yoongi can’t contain his grin as he gets the bike standing on its own. Your joy is too infectious not to take part in, and he walks over for a high five to celebrate.

But to his surprise, you bypass his hand completely and embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck.

It takes only a second before he’s enveloping you with his own, not letting the chance to hold you go by.

“Thank you!” You say, before letting go, not even realising what you did. You’re too busy catching your breath from all the rambling and jumping around, still filled with the remnants of your elation.

Meanwhile, Yoongi can’t get the feeling of your body against him out of his head. How soft you were. How warm. The way you smelled like a mixture of your natural scent and outside.

And he’s asking, “You wanna to go for a ride?” before he can tell himself not too.

The question makes you pause. Was he serious? Because you can’t think of anything you want more.

Staring at him, your answer is far too gentle for someone who was just screeching with joy.

“Really?”

He nods, still untrusting of his mouth, confirming with a ‘mhm.’

You don’t hesitate. You want to feel like that again.

Not a minute later he’s giving you the helmet and securing it tightly. He also makes you wear his leather jacket to protect your torso, leaving him in just an oversized black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.

Swinging a leg over, he pats the seat behind him.

And you’re glad to have the helmet on because without it he would most definitely see your inability to meet his eye. You can barely focus on anything aside from the sight in front of you and being wrapped in the scent of him. But then he gives a tattooed hand to help you hop on, and says,

“You have to put your arms around me and hold on. Otherwise you might fly off the back when we accelerate,” holding his hands behind him to guide yours.

What? You didn’t think this far. He—you have t—Ummm, well...

“Okay,” you answer, voice small, letting your hands be guided.

Despite the loss of his jacket, he’s still deliciously warm, and the heat in your cheeks increases tenfold with your hands now splayed over his abdomen.

Lightly defined muscles meet your fingertips through the thin material of his shirt and you do your best to memorize them as he turns on the bike and pulls away from the curb.

He starts slower than normal to make sure you’re alright, but when you give him the thumbs up, he speeds up to just over the limit and you hold tight.

You’ve never felt so free, loving the rush of wind that flows over your body from going so fast. It’s pushing a welcomed cold through the fabric of your clothes as your body temperature has only increased since getting on.

You could go anywhere, do anything. Nothing and nobody could stop you.

You want that. You want it so bad. And he gave you the key to be able to.

Literally.

But now when you think about leaving, you think about leaving with him. Yoongi driving and you sitting right here on the back, nothing but each other, the road, and hope for the future.

Growing confident enough to release your grasp after a few minutes, you raise your hands in the air, and let the wind catch your fingertips. A whoop of joy leaves you at this newfound feeling he’s given you.

Then another, and another, before returning them to their place around him.

Yoongi can’t help but smile the biggest he has in years when hearing your squeals of glee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels it too.

Yoongi doesn’t come to the willow for almost a week.

He’s never done that since he started coming. Not once.

And you’re worried.

Where is he? Is he okay? You have no idea.

It’s not like you can go looking for him.

And you two aren’t anything anyway, so you shouldn’t even be this worried in the first place. If he’s safe, or in the bottom of a ditch somewhere.

But you can’t help it.

Just like you can’t help the feelings that have blossomed for him over the months. The feelings you didn’t want to admit to yourself for fear of him not returning them.

Yet there they were, and there isn’t anything you can do about them now.

They make you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

Six days.

It takes him six days to return. Stomping in, and visibly pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” You ask once he’s close enough to hear.

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly, uncaring. Like you asked him what colour the sky was.

And your stupid, silly little unrequited heart shatters.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. Taking off. Getting out of here. I can’t do it anymore.”

Piece by piece it falls from your chest and into the depths of your stomach.

“B-but why? What happened?”

“I got fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, fired. I tried all week to fix this one stupid mistake I made,” he explains, smoothing over his creased brow with two fingers. “But it cost more to fix than to keep me around, so they fired me. I don’t have the amount of cash I planned for, but I have enough to make it work. And I can pick up odd jobs on the road if I need to.” He nears, extending a tattooed hand. “I just came to get my key and say goodbye.”

Your hand reaches for it, clutching it tightly. You don’t want to give it back.

Who the hell is this? Because you barely recognize him. It certainly isn’t the Yoongi you’ve come to know.

The wonderfully kind, classics reading, dream-sharing, motorcycle instructing, freedom key giving man.

The one who told you about his grandmother, and his parents. Who read you stories while you drew and ate meals together. Who taught you how to ride his motorcycle.

The Yoongi you fell for.

Your Yoongi.

The person currently standing in front of you isn’t him at all.

He’s the hard, cold exterior, crafted over years of verbal and societal abuse. The one everyone avoids at all costs when walking through town. The person he had to become in order to survive.

You don’t know this person.

And you hate it.

You hate it so much it decides to exit your body in the form of tears. Ones of sadness, frustration, and heartbreak.

He’s—he’s leaving.

Actually leaving.

This place, it’s people.

You...

The few remaining pieces of your heart plunge to the floor, crumbling to dust as they hit. Nothing but a hollow, empty cavern remaining where it once sat.

“But I–you…,” the lump in your throat only getting bigger when you try to speak. You face away from him.

Don’t let him see you cry.

He’s clearly never felt anything close to what you do for him, so suck it up. Reign it in. You do it everyday. So why can’t you do it now?

You don’t get to feel this way!

Shove it back down, get it down!. Crush it all until it’s nothing.

Make it go away. Far, far away.

Yoongi’s face is falling while you’re taking deep breaths to calm down.

In all of his rage and despair at his terrible week, he’s forgotten who he was speaking to.

His kind hearted, music-sharing, been through hell and back, kickass girl. The one he can call his only true friend.

He’s such an asshole. He hadn’t seen you for almost a week, which killed him in of itself. And then the second he does, all he‘s able to do is spew the frustration and misery he’s been feeling the entire time you were apart.

Nah, he’s worse than an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

But he freezes at the sound of a small, wet inhale.

You’re crying.

He made you cry.

And a regret bigger than the ocean drowns him.

“Hey, wait, please,” he says, rushing over, but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches for you again, and again you stop him. You can’t let him comfort you.

Not when he doesn’t realise he’s become the only person in this whole godforsaken, judgemental hellhole of a neighbourhood wasteland you have.

Your grandparents are dead, along with your mum. Your dad’s an abusive drunk, too far gone to remember he has a daughter. You don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins to rely on, nor do you have any real friends.

You have no one, aside from Yoongi.

And now you won’t even have him.

So you can’t let him comfort you. Can’t let him see you break.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

Because you don’t know if you’ll be able to put yourself back together without him if you do.

But a quiet, “Y/N, please,” imbued with pain you haven’t heard since a rainy August night leaves his lips. A last ditch effort to get you to look at him, to let him help.

And it breaks you completely, bursting into a million tiny pieces to match your heart on the floor.

An unrestrained sob falls from your mouth, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Yours go to his neck as he drags you onto his lap, gripping tight.

He holds you through every whimper and hiccup and stuttered inhale and shudder. Through every muttered ‘please don’t go’ and ‘please don’t leave me,’ that escapes, stroking a hand along the back of your head and down your spine, soothing.

He whispers, “it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay,” on repeat with the motion. Over and over and over until only occasional sniffles and deep breaths remain.

You hug him tighter as you start to shiver, the warmth created from your breakdown beginning to wear off. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders. An instant cocoon of warm and comfort.

When his hands find their place back around your waist, he dares to speak.

“I got you.”

“I know.” And you do. Your voice is a little wobbly, as you’re unmoving from the embrace, but you most definitely do.

This is your Yoongi. The one you’ve come to know. To trust.

Of course he’s got you.

You use one of your long sleeves to dry your eyes and under your nose. With the nearing autumn weather, you’ve returned to occasionally wearing them.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck after a long beat of silence.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, Cattails?”

The return of your nickname has a grin threatening to emerge.

“For freaking out. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I sprung that on you in such a shit way because I was in an even shittier mood. And you clearly weren’t prepared to hear it. I should’ve known better, so don’t you dare be sorry about anything,” he loosens his hold to pull back and look at you. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

You look down, hiding, not wanting him to see you like this.

“None of that,” he whispers, and brings a finger to your chin, tilting up.

It doesn’t meet much resistance.

Your eyes are still a bit swollen and patchy, but it’s the concern in his that makes you crack the smallest of smiles, if only to see his worry erased.

He already has enough on his plate. No need to add to it.

Not able to offer much more than a quirk of the lip, you’re relieved that it’s enough when he starts to wear one of his own.

It’s then you realise your position. Like the sight of it cleared your brain fog.

You’re kneeling over his lap, sitting on his thighs, face inches from his. One of his hands is holding your chin up while the other rests low on your waist, your own still loose around him.

So close, yet so far away.

Because he’s leaving.

And that thought alone allows you to throw caution to the goddamn window. It’s not going to matter once he’s gone, and you’ve wanted it to be with someone special.

He’s as special as they come.

Leaning forward, you close your eyes and the gap between the two of you.

Eyelids fluttering as your lips brush his. Soft, and gentle.

Like him.

You hold only long enough to make sure it counts before pulling back.

It’s funny, really.

It was just a few seconds, but you already find yourself wanting so much more with him. An unfamiliar but welcomed electric pulse finds itself running through your blood at the thought, and it makes you want his lips everywhere.

Your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

Anywhere he can reach.

Sparks pool inside you. Sparks and butterflies and fast flowing lava.

You let yourself relish in the glorious feeling for a single moment, before the reality of what you just did sinks in.

And then you’re scared.

Terrified, actually.

To open your eyes, see his face. His reaction.

What if he hated it? What if he’s never felt anything but platonic affection towards you and now you’ve gone and done this?

Sure, he’s leaving. But now that you think about it, does him leaving mean you’ll never see him again?

What if you just ruined everything?

Teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, you take a peek.

For the second time today you feel your heart breaking, this time at the look on his face.

Is it shock? Or worse.

Disgust?

Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. Not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trying to get out of his hold, but he keeps you there. Unyielding. And you start rambling. “I shouldn’t have done that. You clearly don’t—It’s just that you’re leaving and I—“

Lips on yours shut you up.

It’s fervent and needy and passionate as he pulls you closer by the hips, desperately trying to get you as close to him as physically possible. Your nails drag over his scalp as your fingers snake through his blond locks. They elicit a delicious groan from his mouth that you consume with your own.

It’s the most intoxicating sound you’ve ever heard, and you want more of it. So you do it again, and again, and again.

He moves down your jaw and neck, sucking at the tender flesh near your pulse point, and your mouth drops open at the feeling.

You’ve always wondered, but…you didn’t know it could feel like this.

Every touch, every whisper, every press of his lips to yours feels amazing. He’s pulling pleasure out of places you wouldn’t have thought possible before him. And you never want to go back to not knowing.

The sweetest of whimpers leaves your mouth as he gently bites a soft spot, then soothing the glorious pain he created with the kindness of his tongue.

Yoongi swears to any god who will listen that he’ll do whatever they want so long as he gets to hear that sound repeatedly and for the rest of his life.

He returns to your lips and says, “come with me.”

You’re so focused on feeling that it takes a moment for his words to land. “What?”

“Leave with me. Let’s get the fuck outta here, and never look back, the both of us. Together.”

Yoongi looks so serious but..

He—he can’t be serious can he? 15 minutes ago he was going on and on about leaving and needing his key back and saying goodbye.

And now?

Sensing your hesitance, he punctuates each of the next three words with a kiss.

“Come. With. Me.”

It makes your answer arrive without really thinking. You don’t need to think. Not when you know deep in your newly reconstructed heart that it’ll always be the same whether you think about it or not.

So long as you’re with him, you know you’ll be,

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He questions like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe you'd agree.

You make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his head as you look him dead in the eyes and confirm.

“Yes, Yoongi,” another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He pulls you into him for what feels like a million more under your shared willow tree.

Your salvation.

And you know they’re going to be the firsts of many, many more to come.

Three days later, and two bags packed full of all your earthly possessions, you’re on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle.

In those three days he’s prepared everything else you’ll need. He’s gotten a cute leather jacket and helmet for you, some reading materials for the road, snacks, drinks. A place by his side for the foreseeable future.

In the same span of time, you’ve given him a home in your heart, someone he can rely on other than himself. Talk to, trust, experience life with.

Something he hasn’t had in nearly ten years.

Something he never wants to lose again.

He swings a leg over and you unclip the chain from your neck, handing him the key to the bike, to your now shared future.

Driving out of town—straight down Main Street—you watch as all the people you grew up with, who you almost destroyed yourself to fit in with, gawk.

Watch as they judge you for being with him, your best friend. For leaving, and not doing what they all expected of you.

For not being like one of them.

Because you’re not one of them.

You never have been.

And just like the dust that flies behind the wheels, you feel weightless, not giving a single fuck what they think for the first time in your life.

You don’t have to anymore.

You’re free.

A/N 3: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

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