and her pretty curls

I Don't Wanna Live Forever [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: I Don’t Wanna Live Forever
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Requested: no
Summary: Your family takes an annual trip to the mountains with the Murphy family every year to unwind over the winter break–that being said, Connor Murphy isn’t the sweet kid he used to be, and you’d rather be anywhere else than sharing a room with him for two weeks. However, between your parents, a line of accidents, and a mapless trip in the woods seem determined to bring you together–if you can make it out alive.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | Mentions of drugs, abuse, alcohol, panic attacks, sex trafficking, sex, blood, hospitals | First person reader | face paced/vignette style | not proof read | tenses may change
A/N: Here’s that long ass thing I’ve been working on for weeks and just finished a few minutes ago, ayy. Based entirely off the “Connor hated skiing” line. This is long af with no read more option, sorry :/ Here we go! (THANKS FOR 500+ FOLLOWERS ♡♡♡)


Connor Murphy was a lot of things.

He was stubborn–I’d never seen him admit he was wrong, but I’d definitely seen him throw scrabble pieces across the wooden floor of the cabin, leaving Zoe to scramble red-faced to collect them as he stomped up the oak steps to his room, echoing around the house.

He was annoying–I’d told him once I wasn’t crazy about Iron Maiden, which resulted in the album being on blast for the entirety of the time he drove Zoe and I around the mall in the family’s silver minivan.

He was stoic. He was impatient. He was angry.

I’d begged my parents not to go cabins for winter break. I’d begged them to pick a different mountain range if we were so dead set on skiing. But Mr. Murphy and my mother were business associates, and the last thing she wanted to do was make them feel like we were no longer on good terms–especially because of Connor.

“Larry’s been having an awfully hard time with Connor, sweetheart, you have to understand,” my mother crooned in our rental car, fixing her lip liner as she drove, my father keeping a white knuckled grip on the Jesus handle above his head. “He’s not doing very well in school and he’s been throwing tantrums at home. Poor Cynthia is at her wits end. They’re lucky to have that sweet Zoe, she’s so talented and smart. Poor Connor is jealous and acting out, just try not to rally him up, alright, dear?”

I didn’t dignify her with a response, mostly because I knew she wouldn’t like what I had to say anyway, but also because I knew she wouldn’t care to listen, either. I sighed loudly, watching the snow flurry softly outside the window. It wasn’t fair–here I was in the middle of something so remarkably beautiful, and I’d be shoved in a minivan with the Murphy kids and stuck in the valley town’s 1970s mall with crappy t-shirts and a vape store that Connor would spend all day in.

The cabin was huge, up with a view of the town below, nearly three stories made of solid, stripped oak, in the middle of a winding road with a four percent grade. Half the cabin was supported on beams which plummeted down the mountain face. I’d be lucky to stand on the deck without vomiting, let alone being able to venture into the hot tub.

The Murphy’s minivan was already in the drive, trunk shut, meaning they’d unpacked and I’d be left with whatever miniscule space they’d left for me in the loft area.

“Remember to be nice, sweetheart,” my mother crooned again, fluffing her hair in the mirror and giving me an enthusiastic smile in the rearview. “It’s important! They’re practically family.”

Geez, I was lucky to not have Connor Murphy for a cousin.

Slinging my backpack over my arm and exiting the rental car, I took the liberty to stretch, despite the cold air that stung my cheeks and the snow that fluttered down into my hair. This may very well be the last moment of solitude I had for the entirety of the week, and I was going to revel in it.

A movement caught my eye, suddenly, and I lowered myself off my tiptoes to glance up at the second story window–a curtain fluttered shut. It was most likely Zoe or Connor checking out the commotion that was my father and mother bickering over who carried what into the house, and shutting it once they’d realized I caught them. Feeling vaguely uneasy, I turned just as Larry Murphy, bundled in a parka, burst out of the house to take two suitcases from my father.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

——

Cynthia Murphy made me stand by the kitchen counter as she was stocking the cabinet with neon colored cardboard boxes containing various sugary, pink cereals with marshmallows and prizes inside. The Murphy kids were both picky eaters, I remembered quickly, Connor more so than Zoe.

Mrs. Murphy kept playing with my hair, crowing about how much longer it looked (despite the fact I’d cut it since the last time I’d seen her) and how pretty and grown up I’d become, asking me the usually annoying adult questions (“Any thoughts on schools yet? Oh, Connor can’t decide either! Do you know what you’re going to major in? That’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon!”) It would’ve been annoying, I decided, if and only if she didn’t look so sad all the time, the purple bruising under her eyes visible still underneath the layers of makeup. My mother could say whatever she liked about Cynthia Murphy where her wifely duties were concerned–Mrs. Murphy tried to be a good mother (re: tried, period), and that was more than enough to pass her in my book.

In the background, my parents were settling into the second master bedroom, Larry Murphy yelling at the bottom of the stairs to announce our arrival. I could do without the annual reunion, awkward questions about school. The Murphy kids were tolerable–Zoe definitely more so–but it didn’t mean they had to force us together so artificially.

Zoe skimpered down the stairs first, her soft moccasin boots barely making any sound on the stairs–I was surprised to find her long legs bare, her thighs peeking out beneath a pretty pink chiffon dress, covered by what I hoped to be a faux fur parka. Her pretty auburn hair was curled, pulled back with a polka dot headband I could recognize from her childhood. She was wearing eyeliner, and cotton candy flavored lip gloss I remembered sharing when we were thirteen.

It was such a stark contrast from how I remembered her before. The last I’d seen her she’d been gawky and fifteen with a mouth full of metal and a bra full of kleenex. She was practically grown now, and beautiful–it made me feel slightly subpar in my own blue jeans and blue sweater. Regardless, she smiled brightly and skipped over to me, opening her arms to wrap them around my neck.

“It’s so good to see you!” She exclaimed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek that shocked me, as well as some others–Larry Murphy’s horrified expression was priceless, and I was convinced Connor put her up to it–but I just laughed and hugged her tightly before letting her go.

“You look so pretty,” I told her with a wry grin, and she just tossed the expression back, nodding with a, “So do you!”

“It’s so good to see you girls are still so close,” my mother tittered, beginning to uncork a glass of wine–we didn’t drink much at my house, but the Murphy’s, I knew, did, and my mother certainly wasn’t going to let that go to waste. “Where’s that sweet boy of yours?”

Larry Murphy at the bottom of the stairs, banging on the oak walls, yelling out, “Connor!” was enough to make both the Murphy women flinch visibly. Zoe still had her arm around my waist as we stared up at the ceiling above us, waiting for the squeak of sneakers on the polished wood.

“Don’t yell.”

Zoe jumped away from me as if she’d been burned, pressing herself against the countertop as if to make herself invisible. Mrs. Murphy, her hand clutched to her chest after the initial nose, fought hard to smile believably. I, myself, had jumped at the unexpected sound–Connor Murphy’s curt tenor clear across the room, no where near the stairs, instead standing the doorway were we had just come from. I couldn't  quite make out his frame from here–there was a line of bodies blocking my view, my parents, Mrs. Murphy, and Zoe all formed a human barrier that constructed the divide between Connor and I. Fine by me.

“There you are!” Mrs. Murphy chirped, clearly still nervous, visibly by her shaking voice and hands, fluffing her hair to give her something to do. “You didn’t miss much, Connor, they’ve just arrived.”

My mother said something unintelligent in way of greeting, to which Conner didn’t reply, just shut the door carefully behind him to keep out the cold air. I couldn’t see his face from here, but I could make out that he was much too still for a teenage boy, much too quiet.

“–You remember her, don’t you, Connor?”

My throat closed up as the Red Sea parted, everyone’s heads turning to look between the two of us.

He didn’t move from the doormat–boots  caked in snow, as if he’d gone for a walk, and the bottoms of his skinny jeans were muddy and slick looking. Still, he didn’t shiver, which was slightly unnerving. He was skinnier than I remembered, like he hadn’t been eating, and his face was all angles. He slouched, his pink mouth which was mottled red from the cold was set in a heavy frown. His eyes, which were scanning somewhere around my waist and hadn’t come anywhere near making eye contact since he’d seen me, had blown pupils. Drugs. He was doing drugs in the middle of the afternoon.

He hadn’t cut his hair since I’d seen him last, brown curls poking out of the bottom of a black sock toboggan with a soft pompom on top. It could’ve been funny, I supposed, his rough puberty finishing to leave him left over with this, something akin to a drugged out vogue model who listened to way too much 2008 Fall Out Boy, if he didn’t seem so…unnervingly somber for someone who clearly wasn’t sober. Geez, this kid was a school shooter in the making.

I glanced back up to find him finally staring at my face, shooting an uncomfortable alertness down my spine. His eyebrows were crooked in vague amusement that didn’t seem to reach his mouth, and I felt my face heat up under his scrutiny. If he was trying to intimidate me, it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t scared of boys like him.

“Yeah, I remember her,” he grinned mirthlessly, stuffing his hands into the gut pocket of his hoodie, giving me a nod that, while meant to appease our parents, also felt like a vague threat. I didn’t smile back.

“Great! Wanna show her the room?”

Connor grinned crookedly. “Follow me, kid.”

——

The upstairs layout was just like I remembered  it–Two rooms, one main one in the first entrance with a king bed tucked in the corner, a TV and a few gaming systems with some furniture in the front, a bathroom with two doors which lead through to the other room, which held the fold out couch and television I was accustomed to using.

The Murphy kids already had their belongs strewn about the room–Zoe’s stuff animals and princess blankets eclipsing most of the bed and an ancient Nintendo DS on the table with SpongeBob stickers on the cover that I’m sure belonged to Connor–and it left me very little room to maneuver through.

Connor was silent as he lead me up, as if I didn’t know the way, but surprised me by stopping in front of the king bed, holding out his arms to signal me.

“Your room, my lady.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “This–this is your bed.”

“Not this year. Dad’s decided it’s a little too Flowers In the Attic for Zoe and I to share a bed this year–I’m on the pull out and you girls get to have your fun.” He shot me a bitter smile to let me know he wasn’t thrilled about having the pull-out–he shouldn’t be, the thing was total garbage–but surely he’d enjoy the privacy of it?

“I don’t care to take the pull-out,” I told him, keeping my bag on my shoulder despite the fact it was beginning to be painfully heavy. “If you wanna–”

“Don’t have a choice,” he said, already turning toward the bathroom to walk to his half of the loft. “The bed’s yours.”

——

So, Connor Murphy had turned out to be a total dick. It should’ve unsurprising information, I knew, but part of me still remembered him as a charismatic kid I was, at one point, friends with. Back when the three of us all slept in the king bed, before any of us ever had a zit, when we’d fall asleep in the floor watching early 1990s Pokémon episodes, because Larry Murphy didn’t like them watching it.

Even the Connor I remembered at fourteen, gangly and silent and shy with close-cropped hair felt better than this. I was past uncomfortable, sitting stiffly between he and Zoe on one of the couches in the living room. There was a faux fur blanket hanging behind us, shedding hairs onto Connor’s black jacket, which would’ve been funny if he wasn’t picking at his nails with a slightly rusted pocket knife–I notice he’d painted them, which I oddly admired. I’d kissed a boy earlier this year who painted his nails, and his palms were always soft when he’d reach up to cup my cheeks. It softened Connor in my head, just slightly.

He was careful, I saw, to stay on his side of the couch, leaning into the apex of the arm and the back of the couch rather  than flush with me, his thin legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle to avoid me. I appreciated it, but it didn’t stop me from leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, sitting on the edge of the cushion. I could still feel warmth radiating from him–it was late, and I was tired with a full stomach. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall right into him, and he’d never let me live that down.

Zoe practically was asleep, leaning forward as well with her head on my shoulder. Cynthia had let her have nearly two glasses of wine at dinner–not enough to get her drunk, but it didn’t change the fact Zoe was still lithe and young, and easily tipsy.

We’d all gone into town for a very awkward dinner–I was just thankful to be placed between my father and Zoe, in a position on the opposite end of the table from Connor, who was stuck in between Larry and Cynthia, looking as if he were in a permanent time out.

Now we were gathered around the coffee table in the cabin, the seven of us hunched over a tiny photo album that I couldn’t really make out from here. There were fuzzy polaroids of us as children, looking nothing like we did now. Connor and I at six, soaked from romping in a sprinkler. Zoe and Connor sharing a chocolate icecream cone, their faces covered in the brown spatter.

“You were all so small,” Mrs. Murphy crowed with a choked voice, covering half her face with her hand in a faux attempt to eclipse the emotion. “Oh, I miss it. You kids used to spend so much time together! Now we only get together for break, and Zoe is so busy there’s hardly enough time for her to spend quality time with her sweet brother.”

Zoe snorted loudly, earning a glare from Mr. Murphy I was positive I wasn’t supposed to see. I snuck a glance at Connor, whose face betrayed no emotion, just staring blankly ahead in the direction of the album. From his position, I was positive he couldn’t see more than the chipped leather cover of the book. Even if he leaned forward, he wouldn’t have been able to see much.

My mother and Mrs. Murphy went out in loud voices in a seamless attempt to pretend the seemingly secret interaction had taken place, so, while the focus was shifted, I turned my attention to Connor.

He didn’t cock an eyebrow this time when he caught me staring, instead just furrowed his eyebrows and looked at me, as if he expected me to speak.

“Can you see?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the book.

“I’m fine,” he said immediately–vaguely irritating, I’d admit, but nonetheless understandable. I was sure Cynthia Murphy had spent most of her life making sure Connor was comfortable at all times. Still, this was my olive branch, in an attempt to make this trip a little more tolerable, and Zoe seemed less than likely to console her brother at this point.

“We can change seats, I’m not really looking,” I promised, sitting forward more in my seat to show that I was ready to make the change.

“I’m fi–”

Connor was cut off by a squeal from his mother, who had tossed the book into our laps. It had taken a great deal of squinting, letting my heartbeat slow before I realized she’d been showing us something and not trying to kill some giant bug between us.

The polaroid was grainy, an ivory hue that whitewashed the photo and the years of existence made the picture hard to decipher at first, especially when we were so tired. The time stamp was from the late nineties, glowing yellow in the corner of the frame. I recognized the gilded tub from upstairs that dominated half the bathroom, big enough for three adults easily.

Connor threw to book onto my lap first, like it had scalded him. I should’ve done the same, but it took me a moment. To see, to adjust, to read and understand what was so socially condemning about the photo.

It was Connor, I realized first, small and tanned with bony ribs and chunky fingers and the apples of his cheeks straining against his baby skin. His hair was cropped so short, it looked almost silly. Beside him was me, my hair wild and tangled, curled as if my mother had teased it for dinner. My wide eyes were blazing, much too big for my face, and I was grinning with wet lips at the camera.

We were in the tub, surrounded by big pink bubbles.

We were very, very naked.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal–not really, unless you counted the fact that if this had been printed, our parents would be arrested for child porn. I was mostly covered, sitting beside Connor, my shoulders hunched forward. But Connor was standing, meaning the camera got a very decent view of–

“What the fuck, Mom!” He screaming, standing and ripping the book off my lap. Cynthia’s tittering died immediately, the hands covering her laughed instead covered her horrified face.

This was how it started, I realized.

“It’s not fucking funny,” he growled, tossing the book across the room, banging against the wooden wall with a heavy whomp.  

“That’s enough, Connor,” Larry Murphy growled low in his throat. Cynthia’s head was downcast, her eyes wide and wet. I recognized the emotion immediately–she shut down with conflict the same way Connor did.

“You don’t get to laugh at me for shits and giggles this whole trip,” Connor said, already lunging up the stairs, his hands shaking. “If I wanted to feel shitty, I’d have a conversation with you.”

So much for having a quiet trip.
——
Zoe wasn’t quiet in her gossip about Connor–his door was fashioned shut, I saw, and I doubt he’d come out for the rest of the night. I was positive he could hear his sister’s loud comments from our room.

“Sorry, he’s such an ass,” Zoe groaned, stretching on the bed, her little lilac nightgown shifting across her thighs. “I think his high is wearing off or something–don’t let it bug you. You don’t have to be nice to him, by the way. I’m not gonna let him hurt you.”

I shrugged, noncommittal. “We were friends once. I’m not gonna be mean, he’s never done anything to me.”

Zoe snorted. “You didn’t just see that? He’s a monster, and it gets worse.”

“He just has a temper. Everyone gets like that sometimes.”

I wasn’t sure why I was defending Connor–half because I didn’t want Zoe to tell Connor I disliked him, then he’d actively terrorize me–half because I had no idea why Connor Murphy was so pissed off. It was just a picture. Yeah, embarrassing, I’ll admit I wasn’t too thrilled about eighteen year old Connor Murphy seeing my nipples, and I’ll admit he definitely had the worst end of the stick.

“He loses his shit like that all the time,” Zoe said. “It’s not just a temper.”

“He’s your brother, Zoe,” I reminded gently, brushing out my hair in the bathroom mirror. “Can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“He’s no brother of mine,” she whispered, rolling over on the bed and clicking off the light.

——

The next few days passed as the usually did–the adults going places without us, albeit romantic and boring, and leaving the three of us to wander about the town below the mountain crests. It was Zoe’s turn to pick the day’s activity, and she’d chosen the mall.

The place was all dark oak, and hadn’t been remodeled since the late seventies at the earliest. Zoe was chipper, balancing a bag of organic soap and bath bombs on her lap that she’d bought at a local shop, pouring over the cheese fries between us on a plastic red tray.

Connor had also been well-behaved since his outburst several days ago, albeit quiet. He’d separated from us the second we’d arrived, holed out in some record store. Zoe was thrilled to be rid of him, and very vocal about it. I was bored out of my mind.

“Don’t look now,” Zoe said brightly, despite her face suddenly shifting into a mask of disinterest. She bit down on her lip, covered in a pink glitter lipgloss she’d applied much too liberally, and pulled on her pretty auburn braid. “There’s some boys two tables behind us checking you out.”

I felt my face get hot. “You’re lying.”

“Nuh-uh,” Zoe said, leaning into take a sip of her milkshake, biting down on the straw–the look on her face told me she’d got their attention.

“How old are they?” I hissed. The last thing we needed were some creeps following us around the mall–this was how sex trafficking started. Surely Zoe knew that this was a huge red flag.

It was clear from her overzealous wave she didn’t.

I felt a hand on the back of my chair before I saw them–to Zoe’s credit, they were pretty. Both in thick denim blue jeans, both in letterman jackets over white tee-shirts. One was tall, skinny, with pretty dark skin and hair cropped close to his head. The other was a little thicker, pale and short, in badly need from a shave. They were smiling brightly at the two of us in a way that was less awestruck and more closely resembled a triumphant conquest.

“Hello, ladies,” the shorter man greeted, grinning like a shark between Zoe and I. His hair was dark, curling around his temples–handsome, maybe my age, maybe ten years older. It was impossible to tell. There were lines around his eyes that either indicated he smiled too much or was simply older. “What are two cute girls like you doing inside on a day like this–the ski lift is just a walk down the road.”

“We’re here shopping with our brother,” I said immediately, giving a grin. The taller boy quirked his eyebrows at me–his eyes, I noticed, were dark with tawny flecks hidden in them.

“That’s cool,” he said to me, switching places so that the other boy could be closer to Zoe. They both pulled chairs up to our table, facing us. My stomach pinched uncomfortably. “Where’s he at?”

“Nike,” I lied, seeing the sign from the distance and knowing very well that Hot Topic, while probably true, didn’t exactly invoke fear.

“Ah,” he said with a grin, his eyes glancing down at my bare arm with a grin. With two slim fingers, he reached forward to pluck at my woven bracelet Zoe had made me a few nights ago, my name in block letter strung across the twine. His hands were uncomfortably hot, and I drew my arm back into my lap. “Aren’t you cold?” He nodded to my bare arms. I’d left my flannel with Connor, who was sitting on a bench at the time–I hoped he remembered to grab it. I was just wearing a striped cotton tee right now, and my arm had broken out in a case of goosebumps, though I wasn’t sure it was from the cold.

“I’m fine,” I said, careful not to meet his gaze. He was pretty, and if I wasn’t careful, I might end up going somewhere with this guy.

“You know,” he began, and I could hear his grin turn predatory. “You’re very pretty.”

A jolt shot down my spine–I wasn’t pretty, not really, which terrified me. I could hear what the other boy was whispering to Zoe, but I could tell that all the stars were gone from her eyes. She looked pale, panicked. These weren’t the kind of boys we needed to hanging around with.

“I know,” I said quickly. “We really need to call our brother–”

“I think he can wait long enough for me to get your number, right?”

Across the table Zoe laughed, too loudly, pushing back and standing from her chair. She was grinning at the dark haired boy, beckoning her to follow with a jerk of her chin.

“Zoe–”

“We’re gonna run to get some coffee, okay? Connor should be back soon, don’t wait up.”

She didn’t meet my heavy glare for long, and didn’t turn around when I yelled her name. I watched in silent horror as the boy put his hand flush with her lower back.

I was alone.

The panic crept onto the back of my neck long before his thin fingers did. He smelled like cinnamon, strongly, like he’d done one too many sprays with his cologne that morning. When I turned to face him, his tawny eyes were asking.

“Is this the part where you say you’ve got a boyfriend?” He grinned, his teeth blindingly bright in his tan face. He was so close I could see the threads on the collar of his letterman jacket–it looked soft.

There was a possibility, I realized, that they weren’t dangerous. That I was just being paranoid–Zoe wasn’t stupid, and she wouldn’t go off with a strange boy unless she was sure it was safe. Still, they were definitely in college.

And boy, were they pretty.

“I do have a boyfriend, actually,” I said, lifting my chin to meet his gaze so he wouldn’t think I was lying. There was a small voice in the back of my head, screaming, raised on her tip toes that I should just take this plunge–let him hold my hand or kiss him or whatever he wanted to do, because this was a shitty trip and I deserved to be as reckless as the Murphy kids were allowed. I didn’t see a reason why I shouldn’t.

Besides, you know, the obvious.

He quirked an eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend?” He asked, biting back a smirk. I felt the voice in the back of my head get sucker punched by my ego. So, he didn’t think I was pretty after all. Which meant he was dangerous.

Which meant Zoe was in trouble.

“Yes,” I growled, standing, yelping a bit when his hand snaked up to grab at my wrist, nearly breaking my bracelet and keeping me bent over the table.

“Let go,” I hissed–the food court was nearly deserted, and the family in the corner was carefully avoiding my eyes. I wasn’t sure I had the voice to scream.

“I don’t believe you have a boyfriend.”

“Let go, or I’ll scream,” I warned, yanking on my arm. He let go immediately, holding his hand high above his head, which I knew was meant as a gesture of calm, but instead looked an awful lot like he intended to strike me.

“Where’s your boyfriend, then?” He taunted loudly, thrilled to see no one in the court coming to my aid. I felt sick, the panic rising in my chest. Where was Zoe? She was in trouble. I was in trouble. I was going to have to scream–

“He’s right here.”

My arm flailed, immediately cocking back in an attempt to elbow in the stomach whoever had wrapped their arm around my neck, their other spidery hand snaking just slightly under the hem of my t-shirt to splay across my hip, finger tips barely brushing my skin above my jeans. The arms were strong, vice like, pressing me against a hard body, and suddenly I felt limp, panic leaving me as I realized whose familiar smell I was enveloped in.

Hair grazed across my cheekbone, and I could make out the dark locks if I looked out the corner of my eye, and I nearly yelped when I felt lips press chastely against my temple.

I couldn’t make out much of the boy anymore, my eyes level with Connor’s adams apple from where he was pressing me against him.

“Babe,” Connor said cooly, calmly, making my knees knock against his. “Who’s this?”

“H-he’s leaving,” I managed to stutter out, barely a whisper, my voice hoarse. I sounded terrified. No wonder this ass in the letterman jacket hadn’t be intimated by me, I sounded about as frightening as a kitten. Connor pressed his fingers against the nape of my neck, tilting my head against his jugular so that I couldn’t see anything but the pale column of his throat and his dark hair. It was getting difficult to breathe–I felt sick. He moved his hand to wrap around my waist, yanking me tightly to him.

“You heard her,” Connor said, again stoic–half of me wished I could see his face, but the other half knew it would be terrifying. Connor’s temper was legendary and destructive–to see him so angry wouldn’t make the fist in my gut unclench. “Go. Take your friend with you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two. I couldn’t hear much but my own shaky breathing, warm and wet against Connor’s neck, his hair making the space much too hot. I wasn’t aware I had knotted my fingers into his shirt until he started walking, dragging my stumbling form forward with him. He was going fast, too fast for me to keep up, and my chest could only rise so far before deflating painfully.

“You gotta breathe,” he grunted, one of his arms still around me. His face felt hot against me.

“Z-zoe!” I choked out, realizing I had no idea where she was. She could still be with that boy, be in danger–

“Oh, Christ,” he exclaimed bitterly, letting go and beginning to trudge forward. I was terrified briefly, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact I didn’t know where I was. There was a Game Stop, and a Victoria’s secret, the neon lighting combined with the screaming toddlers and the kissing teens and Connor was leaving

An arm swept up from behind me, leading me just as quickly, mumbling something I couldn’t make out into my ear.

“Zoe!” I grinned, immediately feeling safer, feeling my fear melt away just smidgen in my gut.

“I’m so so sorry I left,” she sobbed. “I went looking for a cop, but I found Connor first and I told him you were in trouble–”

“It’s fine,” I said immediately, surprised that my voice was no longer wet. “Thanks, Zoe.”

I was calm, or, at least calmer by the time we reached the van. Connor was waiting by the passenger side door, which was opened, leaning against a scratch in the silver paint. He wasn’t looking at us, instead appearing to observe the silver snowflakes as they fell.

My reflection in the side mirror revealed my face was red and blotchy, not just from the cold wind. I felt gross–guilty for the fact I hadn’t been able to defend myself and Zoe, guilty for the fact Connor Murphy was the one who had to come to my rescue, and guilty for the fact I’d cried all over him. His zipped up hoodie seemed to have escaped the mess, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel awful. 

He stepped out of the way when I made it close, gesturing for me to get in the passenger side door while glaring at the ground. I was only vaguely surprised, and followed along immediately. Zoe and I almost always rode together in the back. I let Connor shut the door, ignoring the disgusted look Zoe gave as she got into the back.

Connor hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, surprising me with a costume change, reappearing in only a forest green tee. He held out his hoodie to me, balled up in one of his fists without looking at me, before just tossing it into my lap.

“I–”

“I left your flannel in the back. Put that on or you’ll freeze.”

He licked his lips, staring coldly out the front window, before starting the car. I swallowed. Yeah, he definitely hated me.

“Okay.”

——

“You’re sure you’re alright, honey?” My mother asked for the third time. Her hair was tied up, her pink bathrobe covering little of her cleavage and bare legs. She was cradling a wine bottle in her hands, looking at me in faux concern.

I gave her a soft smile. “I’m fine,” I lied. I’d calmed considerately. Connor and Zoe had both agreed I needed to shower to wash off the panicked look on my face–I’d asked them to keep the days happenings a secret. They’d reluctantly agreed.

She gave me a clipped smile. “Maybe you should go to bed early, yeah? That’s what I plan to do.”

I nodded, scratching at my bare leg. I’d taken advantage of Zoe’s absense and changed into boxer shorts and an oversized tee with a kitten on the front–she and Cynthia had headed into town for the night, spending the night at a spa and would be gone for a few days, and my father had taken his annual ‘me time’ and booked a hotel downtown to do his own thing. I think Mr. Murphy went with him, but regardless, he was out of the house. It was just me and my mother.

And Connor. I tried not to think about it. I planned on offering him the big bed tonight, in way of thanking him for today, but we hadn’t spoken much since the incident and I felt…odd. Unsure how to thank him. Unsure why he helped.

I supposed the Murphy men were just gentlemen, even under all that teen angst.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m probably gonna sit out on the balcony and then head to bed.”

She grinned. “Don’t stay out too late, it’s almost down to single digits, dear.”

I just nodded, sliding off the countertop, and slinking upstairs. I was surprised to see Connor sitting on the bed. I grinned.

He looked different, to say the least. He was still without his jacket, wearing only his tee and jeans, and little pair of socks with stars on them, which did seem a little out of character, but I assumed Cynthia bought them. His head perked when he saw me, simply craning his neck, keeping his shoulders bowed forward over his body.

He looked small, I realized. He didn’t look like a boy who punched holes in walls or scared off very big very scary men in shopping mall food courts. He looked like a vogue model with a little too much innocence.

He gave me a grin with no teeth, and it didn’t quite meet his eyes, but I gave him a sheepish smile back.

“Hey,” I greeted, tugging on my top to cover my shorts a little better–Connor Murphy didn’t have any interest in seeing my thighs. Despite all the panic, I’d been playing over and over in my head the comment the boy in the mall had made, incredulous that I had a boyfriend. It was silly to let it sting me, considering he probably wanted to stuff me in a van, but it crippled me nonetheless.

“Hey,” he greeted back, not rising from the bed.  I waited for him to speak again, and when he said nothing, I continued.

“I, uh, meant to say, since Zoe’s gone, you can have the big bed like good old times.”

He frowned. “I don’t need the bed.”

“I don’t either,” I promised, leaning against the banister. “Plus,” I sighed, scratching at the back of my head. “I’m not entirely sure how to thank you for today. I’d probably be selling for a low ball price on the dark web right now, if it wasn’t for you. So, thanks.”

Connor was still frowning. “You’ve had a really rough day. You should take the bed.”

“No,” I insisted, beginning to get frustrated. “I’m really okay, I promise. I can’t give you anything else, take the bed.”

His dark eyebrows knit together quickly, licking his lips again nervously. “I don’t–”

“Plus,” I cut him off again with a curt laugh. “I owe you for your Oscar performance. That was crazy, you know. I can’t believe you fooled him into thinking a guy like you would be with a girl like me.”

His head snapped up. “A guy like me?” He reiterated coldly. I felt my face grow hot.

“You know,” I said quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you’re cool,” I muttered. “And nice looking. And I’m not.”

I was thankful for the warm lighting in the room, concealing my red face. It was already dark out, the blinds drawn tightly. Connor’s fists clenched in the white lace comforter on the bed. I didn’t want him to feel bad for me, and I sort of regretted saying it. Connor had already seen me blubbering today and he didn’t need my shitty teen angst to deal with.

He bit down on his lower lip, staring coldly at the ground before murmuring, “I need a shower. Take the bed.”

I shook my head. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He just nodded, rising from the bed. “Don’t get too far. It’s cold out.”

Connor shut the bathroom door behind him, and I was left feeling like a total idiot. I could hear the shower running before I left, snagging Connor’s grey jacket from my bed post and sliding it on. I went down the stairs, sliding out the first door to the outside, stepping out onto the first floor balcony. I made a mental note to the shut the blinds later, before walking around to the front of the cabin.

I should’ve been thrilled to be alive, I realized, snorting at how melodramatic that sounded. Still, as I burrowed deeper into Connor’s jacket, watching my thighs turn red from the cold, I realized that I was shrouded in a veil of melancholy I wouldn’t be able to shake off.

I missed Connor. I missed being his friend. I missed him coming over for play dates when we were kids, gauzy fairy wings strapped to our backs, jumping on a trampoline when Zoe was still to young to participate. I missed writing him letters, like a pen pal, despite the fact he only lived on the opposite side of town. Going to different schools hadn’t deterred us, for a while, at least. We had sleepovers every birthday, and Zoe told the best scary stories. I remembered hiding under Connor’s bed with him, a hand clasped over my mouth so Zoe wouldn’t hear our breathing.

I remembered kissing him when we were in kindergarten, ridiculously late at night, a quick smack on the lips during a game of pretend. I’d kissed Zoe, too, when we were probably much too old for it, but thinking of Connor tugged on my chest.

It stopped as we turned twelve, I realized. I never saw him–he was still playing little league, and I stopped coming to his games to pick dandelions with Zoe. He was beginning to get teased. My parents insisted the slumber parties should stop, we were too old. Every time Connor and I were together at birthdays or Christmas parties, adults would joke about when we’d fall in love, how soon would it be before we got married. We avoided each other like the plague, unless we knew we could be alone. And we were never alone.

Connor hid inside himself. Zoe made fun of him at parties, loudly. I kept quiet.

He stopped calling during the summer months. He never rode his bike by my house. The only time I saw Connor Murphy was the annual ski trip.

I missed him. He’d been a childhood friend, and I’d let him go without a second thought to save myself some shred of dignity, like it wouldn’t be ripped away from me regardless.

Connor Murphy was nothing to be ashamed of.

And now it was too late to be his friend.

It had started to snow again, so I wiped my face and rose, walking the opposite way I had come, skirting the stairs–they led to the upstairs, but only to Connor’s room, and I didn’t plan to barge in uninvited, especially if he was still in the shower, two rooms blocked me from getting to the king bed, so I’d have to walk all the way around the house.

The lights were out, I saw, but again no one had bothered to close the blinds. The television might have been on, a dim blue glow resounding onto the leather couch–

I froze.

As it turned out, my mother hadn’t gone to bed. The television was on, showing some late show with some old white man making cracks about some politician I didn’t care for, casting the blue haze onto the coffee table, revealing the wine bottle my mother had been cradling. Two empty glasses sat on the table–my mother’s bathrobe crinkled on the floor.

I was disgusted in a comedic way, just for a moment, to see my mother in her nightgown kissing my father, who my brain had filled in under the assumption he’d arrived back.

I’d begun backing up to the stairs, Connor Murphy’s naked body be damned, when I realized my father’s car had never pulled up, and I’d been on the front porch the whole time.

A better look in the window revealed a man a little older, a little more gray and a little more handsome than my father.

I was sprinting by the time Larry Murphy had begun to peel his shirt off his back.

I didn’t knock by the time I’d made it to Connor’s room, just threw open the door, struggling to get my breathing under control. I stumbled to the pull out couch, dragging the sheets up around my freezing legs. I was in shock, I knew, and I needed to calm down before Connor came in–the bathroom door was shut, but I couldn’t hear the shower anymore, despite the steady trickle of steam coming through the cracks. I was trapped in this room until Connor came out.

My mother was cheating on my father Larry Murphy. Larry Murphy was cheating on his wife with my mother. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe it, I had to have made it up, this had to be a dream–

“What are you doing in here?”

It was an exclamation, alarmed, grasping a towel tight with thin white knuckles.

Connor. Connor in a towel. Connor wet with slick hair and chest hair and navel and hip bones. Connor Murphy, son of Larry Murphy, who had his tongue down my mom’s throat–

“Hey, breathe, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

By the time my eyes snapped back into focus, Connor was struggling to pull on grey basketball shorts without dropping his towel, and I dropped my gaze back to my shaking hands, almost startlingly red from the temperature change and what was most likely shock. I was hyperventilating, struggling to smother the sobs. I knew this deep in the house, they probably wouldn’t hear me–they were most definitely preoccupied anyway. 

The bed dipped, and Connor’s bare side brushed my thigh. I didn’t mean to jerk back, but I did, clinging to the arm of the couch and staring horrified–Connor looked almost hurt, but mostly panicked. I tried to calm down, for his sake.

“S-sorry!” I sobbed. “Sorry! I-I-I didn’t mean–I didn’t mean–I didn’t–I–”

“Hey, stop, breathe. You gotta breathe. Go slow, okay? Stop tryna talk,” he commanded, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t gonna hurt me, readjusting so that he sat up on his knees, leaning  over me to take my hands, rubbing them between his own despite the claminess.

I avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the dip of his collar bone, surprised to see thin lines of chest hair, wet and plastered to his chest. He was skinny, and I could see his ribs despite the tiny stomach roll from where he folded in the middle. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles across the backs of my hands, and for a moment, I didn’t think. I could’ve forgotten everything and fallen asleep right here with him.

He pulled my hands against his chest, cradling mine in his own, pulling me forward, asking with his slate eyes if it was alright.

I pretended we were friends.

“You wanna talk about that?” He asked very softly, looking down at where our hands were clasped against him–he was warm, his skin pink and hot from the shower. He’d combed his hair back out of his face, and it was almost cute like that. “If it’s about today, I promise you’re safe, alright? I wasn’t gonna let that guy hurt you.”

My heart sunk in my chest, nearly restarting my panic attack. I shook my head.

Connor deserved to know.

I was scared, briefly, that it would set him off. He might yell at me, throw things, kick me out of the room. He might hit me.

I didn’t care. He had a right to know.

I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. “N-no.”

“Did something happen on your walk? Are you okay?”

I shook my head.

“What? Trouble back home–your boyfriend break up with you or something?”

“My mom–” I started, voice breaking, feeling fresh tears of shock on my cheeks.

His eyebrows furrowed, tightening his grip on my hands. “Is she okay? She–”

I saw it in slow motion–his jaw unclenched, eyebrows relaxing from their set, pouted mouth turning down. It was calm. It was knowing.

“You saw them,” he said very softly, letting my hands fall back into his lap. I was too shocked to move them away from his thighs.

“You knew,” I spat–an accusation. I hadn’t meant to make it one.

Connor scrubbed at his eyes roughly, flopping onto his back against the bed. Frustrated.

“I was tired of my dad reading my fucking emails, so I hacked into his–I only saw a few. I didn’t want to see anymore.”

I paled, feeling nauseous. “So it’s happened before?” I choked.

He swallowed. “That was two summers ago.”

“Fuck,” I hissed uncharacteristically, surprised to find Connor stretching out an arm to me. I took his hand with a firm grip. “How long before then.”

He shrugged. “Maybe our whole lives. Maybe before. I’m not sure, angel.”

I nodded, secretly pleased that he was so calm. It kept me level, grounded, watching where our hands were linked.

“What do we do?” I choked. “I have to tell my dad. He deserves to know.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “Everything would change. He’d tell my mom.”

I bit down on my lip, folding down onto my back to lay down beside Connor. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Connor sighed, scratching at my hand tenderly with his black painted nails. “I’m not sure that my mom and Zoe could handle the news–it’s not like they’d turn to me. They’d be alone. Zoe might even take my dad’s side.”

I groaned, stealing my hands to scrub at my eyes. My wet hair was beginning to dry in a tangled mess.

“This is too much,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side to face Connor, staring at his bare, freckled shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. If I can do anything.”

I jumped a foot out of my skin when he placed a hand at the corner of my jaw, brushing the tangled hair back out of my face. “You don’t have to think about it right now. You’ve had a really long fucking day. You should sleep.”

I didn’t want to sleep–I didn’t want Connor to leave. I didn’t know how to say that.

I couldn’t believe that everyone had tried to desperately to convince me Connor Murphy was a bad boy–fuck them, Connor Murphy was good. He was better than everyone in this cabin combined.

He cared about me.

I caught his wrist, which froze in my grasp, but I just took his bony hand and cradled it between my hands the same way he’d done mine, tracing the lines across his palm. He sucked  in a sharp breath.

“Okay,” I said, and he smiled, moving away. I let go of his hand.

“I just have to turn off the light. Get comfy.”

His retreating footsteps filled my stomach with dread, but nevertheless I unzipped his jacket and draped it on top of the blanket so that it would at least keep my feet warm. Pulling the pillow tight behind my head, I was pleased to find it sort of smelled like Connor’s shampoo as the light clicked off. It left me feeling a little more safe. Ironic, I realized. I was in the middle of a wilderness, I’d almost been abducted, my mother was downstairs ruining our family, and all I could find myself to be worried about was if Connor would be okay.

The bed dipped behind me, shocking me into stillness, surprising me even more when someone lifted the sheet and slid in behind me, a bony hand resting on my hip.

“This okay?” He asked, and I dared to open my eyes to meet his. They were unsure, nervous. He was scared I’d reject him. I nodded, scooting closer.

“It really will be okay, you know,” he assured. “Whatever you choose, I’m gonna be with you.”

“You’re amazing,” I said without thinking, but being entirely sincere. Even in the dark, I saw his eyes go wide and his cheeks tinge a deep magenta in his pale face.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” I assured with a laugh, reaching across the divide to poke at his side, slightly surprised to still find him shirtless. He’d withdrawn his hand almost immediately, keeping respectfully to his side of the bed. “I’d be dead without you. And you’ve supported me this whole way.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, freeing one of his arms to pick at the wrinkled sheets between us. “I just, fuck, I knew you’d hear some shit, but I was hoping you’d be able to come out here and we could start over again, like before? Zoe started her smear campaign almost immediately. I just, fuck, nevermind.”

I watched him withdraw, turning over with his back to me, the pale plains of his back bared to me.

“Con,” I said very softly. “I don’t care what they say–fuck them,” I laughed, watching Connor’s shoulders shake. “I think you’re good, Connor, and I miss being your friend.”

I watched with bated breath as his back rose and fell with his steady breath in the cold room, his skin radiating heat. I shifted closer, crossing the divide between us. He didn’t respond.

I didn’t sleep.

——

I was alerted late in the day by a noise–it was daylight, I noted, the clock on the bedside table reading it was almost noon. I was groggy, still in the state between sleep and consciousness. The room was shrouded in a bright grey hue from the winter wonderland outside–it had snowed a significant amount, apparently, and the white fluff stuck hopelessly to the window.

At the foot of the bed, Connor was on his knees, pulling a navy sweater over his head. It was tight, with a stretched collar and holes at the hem, but he looked good in it. His hair was frizzed at the temples, and his eyes were wide when we saw me.

“You’re awake.”

I just nodded, a little embarrassed. Part of me hoped Connor would just let last night drop, and we could continue our indifference toward each other, but most of me felt as if we had an unfinished conversation to attend to.

“Is anyone back yet?” I asked, surprised as Connor came to sit in front of me, legs crossed kindergarten style. He shook his head.

“No, actually. No one came back from their trip, and the lovebirds have miraculously vanished for a ski day. It’s just me and you.”

“Oh.”

Connor seemed unsure for a moment, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I’m sorry, um, about last night? I should’ve asked first if it was okay to sleep next to you, I just–I know you said you missed being friends, so I thought–”

“It was nice,” I cut him off with a smile that was nearly all false bravado. “Warm. I really do miss hanging out with you.”

He pursed his lips in way of a smile. “Me too. Miss having friends, period, but you’re kinda great, so–I’ll shut up.”

Stretching, I groaned with the sensation and smiled widely at him. “We can be friends again, don’t you think?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. When my vision cleared, he was sitting by my feet, eyes downcast.

“It’s kinda lame, isn’t it?” He asked, sending ice down my spine.

“What, I’m not cool enough for you?” I teased half heartedly, despite feeling slightly sick. If Connor left now, I’d be marooned on this island I’d made for myself, and it wasn’t ideal knowing I no longer had any allies.

“No! That’s not what I–no, fuck, I just meant. Don’t you like Zoe better?”

I shook my head. “I like Zoe–but I liked you first.”

“Yeah, I liked the Teletubbies first, doesn’t mean I prefer them to Death Cab for Cutie.”

I snorted. “Okay, I like you best. You’re both really similar, you know, but you’re kinder.”

He shot me a glare, which I supposed I’d earned. “Liar.”

“Can’t lie,” I protested. “And I like you better. Get used to it.”

He swallowed, shifting on the bed and looking at me again as if grappling to say something. His eyebrows were pinched in the middle, making him look slightly worried, small. I watched the way his mouth bowed as he opened and closed it, my eyes tracing over his soft lips.

He was pretty, I realized, in a way I wouldn’t have considered before.

“What about when you leave?” He asked softly, scratching his arm absently.

I frowned. “What about it?”

“We won’t see each other again.”

I smiled. “Connor, you just live on the other side of town. I do own a car.”

He frowned. “You’d come to see me?”

“If you wanted me to,” I answered honestly. “Or we could go do stuff. It doesn’t make me any difference–whatever you want, I’m game for.”

His eyebrows took a sharp hike into his hairline. “Whatever I want, huh?”

My stomach clenched nervously–decidedly a good kind of nervous. I didn’t realize it till he placed his hand on my ankle, grinning up at me with crooked teeth and pretty eyes, that I might’ve begun to develop a small crush on him.

Which wasn’t okay.

——

“This is such bullshit.”

I cackled as Connor continued to strap on his snow boots, repeatedly tripping and losing his balance in the snow.

“C'mon, it’s fun!” I protested, pulling my sock toboggan down tighter over my ears, trudging another few slow steps through the slush. Connor was frustrated, I could tell, seeing his pink nose and ears, his breaths coming out in angry puffs of smoke.

“No,” he grunted, dragging himself up the trail a few more steps. “Video games are fun. Cartoons are fun. Cheap Internet porn is fun. Dragging my frozen ass up a mountain covered in snow for ten miles is not my idea of fun, dude.”

“It’s not ten miles,” I protested, taking a seat on a mostly clean looking rock, patting the seat beside me in condolence to Connor, giving him a much needed break. He’d agreed to go outside with me at least once to take a hike, since the Murphy kids never ever wanted to do anything that didn’t involve fried food or touristy tie dye t-shirts. We’d been going for a few hours now, and the last bench had easily been miles ago. I wanted to see where the trail ended.

Part of me was scared he’d only agreed because he thought I would break. I’d surprised myself with how calm I’d been after, well, what a nightmare this trip had been. I supposed I’d be worse once my dad got back–but he wasn’t yet, so I was content to have my last moments with Connor.

“We’ve been out here for hours, man, don’t you think we should head back before it gets dark?” He whined, leaning forward on his elbows and rubbed his hands together–he had on mittens, which was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Say what you want about Connor Murphy, his aesthetic was absolutely demolished once you put him in a fire engine red puffer coat.

I sighed, glancing wistfully up the trail. I’d like to finish, but Connor was right–it was getting dark, too dangerous out for us to be out here alone. He’d humored me enough for today.

Time to go back and face reality.

I just nodded, stuffing my hands in my pockets and rising from the rock, giving a decent stretch before moving forward back down the path, Connor scurrying along beside me.

“Thanks for coming,” I said again, nudging him with my shoulder. He stumbled gracefully, grinning with a subdued force that warmed me a little, before checking me back with his shoulder.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But it wasn’t totally awful.”

I snorted. “I won’t let anyone know Connor Murphy can feel fun.”

Biting back a smile, he nudged me again. “God, please don’t. Then they might bring me back here and I’ll have to spend another two weeks with you.”

“I’m sure I’m just killing you inside,” I teased. “How dare your parents give you unfiltered access to a teenage girl.”

“Who never wears pants around the house,” he added sagely.

“And sleeps in your bed!” I choked with laughter, the bird walking along the snow path in front of us clearing the way. “God, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry, I was probably awful. Did I snore?”

His mouth twisted, as if trying to look indifferent but instead just failed at smothering a smile, both corners of his lips turning in a different direction.

“Not awful,” he offered, earning an embarrassed groan from me. “No! It’s cute, like a kid, I promise. You kicked the shit out of me, though.”

“You’re kidding me,” I groaned. “I’m so so sorry! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Might be some bruises,” he grinned, to my further mortification. “Hey, nah, I’m kidding. Any damage will heal. It’s kinda funny.”

I cocked an eyebrow from where I was hiding my face behind my gloves. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” he said, reaching out to take my wrist, pulling one of my hands away from my face. He didn’t realize it, just held it, swinging stiffly between us as we walked. He held his breath for a moment before continuing, “I would’ve let you know if I didn’t like it.”

“Kinky,” I said upon reflex, earning a lazy kick to my ankle.

“You’re hilarious. I just meant you’re warm, maybe the bruises are worth it.”

I felt my face get hot, words forming in my belly, escaping before I could choke them back. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll kiss them better tonight, if Zoe isn’t back.”

He let go of my wrist like I’d burned him.

“Sor–”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, beginning to walk quickly ahead of me.

“What?” I screeched, frustrated.

“Don’t fake flirt with me. It’s not funny,” he spat, continuing walking too fast on his ridiculously long legs.

“Who said it was fake?” I grumbled. “I’m not making fun of you, Connor.”

There was a beat of silence, pulling at my heart with sharp claws, the dull ache starting in my chest and spreading. I’d messed up everything.

“It’s getting dark,” he growled. “And we don’t have a flashlight. Try and keep up.”

——

The panic set in at twilight.

We were running.

He was holding my hand again, dragging me roughly down the mountain, hoping desperately to see some kind of light pollution as the sun set, but there was nothing.

“We should see lights by now,” I told him. “We can see the lights from our cabin, we should see the lights now.”

“We went down the wrong side of the mountain,” he gasped, already out of breathe. I knew his lungs weren’t the best, and we’d been running for awhile now.

“There has to be something at the bottom,” I whispered hopelessly.

“There is,” he growled. “It’s called a gorge, then you climb the other mountain, and there’s the next state. Fuck, how did we get so turned around?”

“Doesn’t matter, Con,” I said hopelessly. “It’s gonna be dark soon.”

His dark eyes widened. “You aren’t sincerely suggesting we try to find shelter. In the middle of a national park.”

“I’ve got a flare gun and a flint,” I told him. “But we have to get back up out of the trees.”

“You want us to climb the mountain again?” He hissed, holding both my hands now. “Are you positive you don’t have signal?”

I nodded. “I’m really sorry, Connor.”

“Don’t be sorry. Start walking.”

——

It was an accident.

It was dark.

I had an analog watch, letting me know it was nearly nine pm. We’d found shelter just as it had started to snow–the  ground here was wet, quickly freezing into ice, and we kept slipping up on the trail. I’d set off the flare an hour ago, and, so far, nothing. The snow had begun to pick up, and we’d found a alcove between two adjacent rocks–not big, about the size of a walk in closet, but enough space for us, our bags, and a pile of wood that refused to light. It kept the snow and wind off of us, and the alcove was high enough I felt safe, with a small mouth that made me feel as if at any instant we could be trapped.

It was an accident.

“The fire won’t light,” I said again, hopelessly, watching my now bloody fingers go numb from trying desperately to get the flint to do its job. I couldn’t feel them without my gloves on.

Connor, huddled in a corner, viciously rubbed his arms in an attempt to get warm. I knew the  temperature would only drop from here. If someone hadn’t seen the flare….

“There’s no dry wood. I checked.”

“Nothing?”

“No, okay? Nothing. That’s it.”

I knew he was right–and searching now would only prove to be counter productive and dangerous. I moved our bags and the pile of firewood to the entrance, sealing us in.

“It’s gonna be pitch black soon,” I warned, watching Connor tap angrily at his phone. “You should probably save your battery. I don’t have a flashlight.”

He snorted. “You’ll bring sleeping bags and a flint, but not a flashlight?”

“It’s the emergency bag! I didn’t pack it, Connor. Make fun of it all you want, but it’s keeping us alive!”

There was a beat of silence, before he clicked his phone off, leaving us in darkness. “M sorry.”

I dragged out the single sleeping bag, stretching it out to him. “Don’t be sorry.” I felt guilty–it was my fault we were in this mess to begin with. “Wanna granola bar?”

“Save it,” he said in a clipped tone, unsure what to make of it since we were veiled in darkness. “We might need it later.” Then, softer: “What’s the plan?”

I heard him stand, and walk across the slick ice of the alcove, coming to stand beside me, his hand at my elbow.

“Well,” I said very slowly, feeling my throat get thick. “Survive the night, stay awake, and once dawn hits we head back to the other side of the mountain, if no one comes.”

“If no one comes,” he echoed, voice oddly hollow. I choked.

“It, erm, is very possible they think we just wandered off, you know? We’re teenagers,” I reminded gently. I left out the part the police would be less than willing to look–Connor had a history of running away after a bad binge.

“Fuck,” he growled.

It was an accident. It was quick, in the dark, we couldn’t see.

He reached our for me, his open palm colliding with the back of my head, yanking me tightly again his chest, my nose buried in his nylon puffer coat. I felt his other hand, too forcefully, at the small of my back, and I nearly screamed, terrified this was an episode I couldn’t control–

“We’re gonna make it outta here,” he breathed against my ear, his breath warm and humid against my freezing ears. It set off a light bulb in my brain. “We’re gonna go back home and–fucking shit, I’m gonna be a goddamn good friend to you and we’re gonna–fuck,” he hissed, his clipped voice breaking off. “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m not going anywhere.”

I let myself break open, collapsing against him, openly sobbing with regret. He stiffened, but just tightened his arms around me despite our bulky clothes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“It is not,” he hissed, shaking me a little. “We had no way of knowing this would happen. The trail looked safe.”

I just nodded, knowing that arguing would tire me out. I felt the lethargy begin to creep in my bones–Connor was warm, and it was late, and we were tired. Falling asleep meant dying.

“Get out the sleeping bag,” he said, extracting himself from me, and I heard his hands scrape along the hard rock looking for the entrance. “And I’ll look for some more blankets in the bag, see if we can’t insulate–fuck!

“What is it?” I screeched, turning, grabbing his hand to only find that my own was suddenly wet, almost sticky, and Connor pulled away with a howl. I smelled the metallic sting before I realized.

“Something cut my hand!”

“Stay away from the wall,” I warned. “Take your undershirt off, I’ll rip it up.” I felt around desperately for Connor’s phone, immediately illuminating our little cave with a blinding blue light.

The amount of blood smeared across the wall was nauseating. There was a sharp spot Connor must’ve grabbed too quickly.

He was crying, trying desperately to unzip his coat with one hand, the other dripping onto the floor.

“Fuck, I hope something doesn’t smell that,” I whispered, laying down the light and running to help him get undressed, careful of the open cut across his palm.

“I knew I was gonna get naked tonight,” he said with an unsure laugh, “I just didn’t realize it would be like this.”

My face flushed. “What, you thought I’d suck you off because we’re about to die?”

He shivered, accentuated by me ripping his white shirt down the front, exposing his blue, goosebumped skin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and I was unsure if it was from the cold, the pain, or my foul language.

“Hope this is clean,” I muttered, wrapping a strip of his white shirt across his palm in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. It was a good way to get an infection, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.

“I didn’t–I wouldn’t ask you to–”

“I’m not sucking you off!”

“Fuck, I just meant–hypothermia, skin to skin, I saw it in a movie–”

The phone light clicked off. I sighed, tying off the cotton bandage.

“You wanna get naked in the sleeping bag,” I finished.

“I don’t want to!” He howled. “And not naked–just, enough to stay alive, shit. It’s gonna be negative ten out here soon, I just wanna stay alive.”

“We should hurry,” I said, surprising myself by reaching out to urge him to rub at his bare chest, earning a gasp from him. “You’re gonna freeze soon. Get your pants off.”

I handed him the sleeping bag, my breath catching as I heard his belt clink to the floor, trying very hard not to think about the implications of this. How far did he expect me to undress? And, if we did get in here, it would be ridiculously tight, we might fall asleep–

“Hurry up, this bag is an icicle with one person.”

Straightening out my bra and panties (even if we were going to die, Connor Murphy did not get to cop a feel) I felt my way to the sleeping bag.

My hand on his chest, he guided my legs one at time–one by his side, one between his knees–and gently folded me down against him, uncomfortably tight as his shaking fingers zipped the sleeping bag up.

He was breathing hard against my temple, and I immediately began to sweat–between the nylon bag and the fact I felt all of Connor Murphy pressed against my chest and stomach–it was nerve wracking.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he reminded in a hoarse voice, shaking a little. I couldn’t quite figure out where his hands were.

“Don’t get a boner,” I begged, earning a beat of silence before:

“I, uh, am–I’m really trying not to,” he groaned, and I could feel how hot his face was against my temple.

“If it helps,” I said, slightly disgusted. “You can imagine our parents kissing. That really kills my fire.”

“Ew,” he said. “Please don’t.”

I grinned. “What? You don’t want me to be your hot step sister?”

Stop it,” he begged, making me laugh, pressing my face against the soft cushion of his hair, nosing at the column of his throat. He groaned a little, and I felt his fingers twitch beside my hips.

“I can’t believe their secret is going to die with us,” I sighed. “No one is ever going to know.”

“I can’t believe you’re lying on top of me in your spiderman panties, but that’s also happening, so you’d better believe it,” he sighed, hands twitching again.

“You can touch me, you know,” I breathed, a little embarrassed against his ear. “We’re gonna die anyway, might as well die comfy.”

“We won’t die,” he promised, his hands clasping over the small of my back regardless.  “Hey,” he crooned, in a soft voice I hadn’t heard before. Encouraging. “Remember sharing a sleeping bag when we were kids?”

I laughed half heartedly, remembering fully. “The thing was always full of pixie stick wrappers.”

“It was an addiction, and I have quit,” he said sagely, earning another laugh from me. I almost joked about the pot, but part of me knew it wasn’t a funny joke. It didn’t have anything to do with him. He sighed, one finger trailing up my spine. “God, I was so in love with you.”

I froze against him, my body a live wire. His hand pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said tha–”

“Were you really?” I asked. I felt him smile, before leaning in to kiss my cheek, slowly, his dry lips lingering.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” he groaned. “Zoe had me convinced you were just humoring me because you knew I’d do anything for you.”

I pulled up, as far as I could (which wasn’t much) squinting to make out his face in the dark. “That wasn’t true. You were my best friend.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. God, that time when you kissed me….I’m so sorry we stopped talking. I don’t think I’m ever gonna forgive myself for that.”

“Connor,” I said very softly, reaching up to tangle my hands lightly in his hair. “If we’re gonna die…can I just….”

He surged up before I could, the nylon around us snapping taunt, squeaking in protest. Up on his elbows, his bony hands found their purchase on my bare hips, and I felt the wetness through one of the bandages–his hand was still bleeding, the idiot.

His lips were dry, and he kissed much too roughly for someone who wasn’t holding my head in place, our teeth clinking together in a way that I knew was an accident, sending my skull ringing. His eyes were squeezed shut in the darkness.

I can’t believe it took us to the brink of death for him to admit this.

God, he’s an idiot.

I reached up, pulling at his hair, holding his head to mine, his tongue licking roughly up into my mouth before breaking away–

“Boner,” he warned in a squeak, earning a loud laugh from me, collapsing against his chest.

“Not even in death, Murphy, am I sucking you off on a first or last date,” I giggled against his neck, giving him a chaste kiss there, listening to him groan. His hips canted a little, scaring me, before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“First date, huh?” I felt him grin, followed by a yawn.

“Stay awake, Connor,” I urged, smacking him hard. “Or I’m gonna twist your nipple.”

“Kinky,” he sighed lethargically. Shit, he was gonna sleep.

“Connor–”

“Promise me this,” he sighed, nuzzling lightly against the side of my face. “If we survive the night by some miracle, and we don’t freeze to death or get eaten by bears or bleed out–you wanna kiss me again? With more clothes on? As my girlfriend?”

I leaned into his touch, tilting my head up to give him access to suck a hickey into my neck, groaning.

“Murphy, if we live, I will suck you off.”

That was the last thing I remembered.

——-

Three days later, it’s still cold. I’m not wearing much–a blue gown with shitty pink flowers, it’s made of some kind of plasticy cotton material. There’s blood under my fingernails and bruises on my neck that are almost embarrassing when I remembered how I got them. My clothes were gone.

Connor was gone.

My mother and father were leaning over my bed, the Murphy's  (minus Cynthia) are behind them. No Connor.

They explained it slowly, eyes wide. They found Connor and I nearly frozen, unconscious. Connor lost a lot of blood, they said, and he wasn’t do so well but he’d woken up several days before me.

He wouldn’t eat until they let him see me.

I’d nearly ripped out my IV to get to him.

He was wearing the same shitty hospital gown, his hair pulled back. He’s got hickies I don’t remember giving him across his collarbone that are ridiculously visible. There were purple bruises under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

“They said you were still too sick to get out of bed,” he grinned, opening his arm, and I immediately stumbled over to the thin mattress, pressing myself tightly against him. His hand is thickly wrapped in cotton, a few tubes full of a yellow brown liquid in them. He was combing my hair–which I’m sure was a rats nest–out with his free hand.

“They said the same about you.”

“We’re really lucky, you know,” I said softly, tapping at his chest. “I almost lost you.”

“Almost lost you,” he choked out, pulling away to scan my face, before grinning. “Which would’ve sucked, because you’re my only friend right now.”

“Friend?” I said, trying hard not to sound disappointed. I supposed I shouldn’t have been–what we’d done in the heat of a moment hadn’t meant anything then. It had been a lie for my humor.

It wasn’t fair.

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “You, um–do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

I frowned. “I mean, only if you want me to.”

He grinned, the smile splitting across his face. “It’ll suck–your parents will hate me.”

“Right now, I kind of hate my parents, so.”

“I do a lot of pot.”

“We can do something else instead,” I grinned, nudging him, having the nerve to blush.

He licked his lips, looking down at where he’d intertwined our hands. “You–you can’t fix me, you know? I’m still gonna be, you know.”

I nodded, bring his hand up to kiss across the bloody knuckles of his good hand. “I know. I promised I’d be your girlfriend, though. A promise is a promise.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you say that–because you did promise something else.”

I shook my head, rising from the bed. “The kiss is for when we have clothes on, remember.”

“I wasn’t talking about that kiss.”

Connor Murphy!

Title: meant to be something
Summary: Fate brought them together again in the form of conjoined apartments.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Naruto.
Prompt: Something More
Rating: T or T+ (just for that little nsfwish smidge in there)
A/N: So some time ago my friend @mika213 brought this sort of situation up for when Sasuke would come back from his road of redemption… and this prompt just immediately reminded me of it. Could you imagine??

ALSO I KNOW IM LATE BUT SHHHHHHHHHHH. 


“S-Sasuke-kun? What are you doing here?”

Blinking, Sasuke’s hand fell from the doorknob he’d only just reached for, turning to his side to meet the unexpected sight of his long-time pink haired teammate—whom he hadn’t really gotten the chance to see much of since she’d welcomed him back from his two-year journey a few days prior. His brows furrowed lightly.

“…I live here.”

Sakura’s mouth parted at this, eyes snapping wide open. “What, really?” she exclaimed, brows shooting up high. “Since when?”

“Four days ago,” he replies without much delay, frowning all the while. Then, he blinked again, understanding finally dawning on him. “You live here too?”

A slight blush tainted her cheeks at that. “Yeah,” Sakura replied, moving to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. She smiled at him, bright, though a little shy. “I’ve been here for the past three years. And I guess I’m… also your new neighbor, apparently.”

Keep reading

Prince!Seungkwan

find the other members [here]

  • as much as seungkwan is a prince, who is charitable and loving to his people - he’s also a world renowned singer and entertainer
  • ever since he was young, the royal family had invested in tutors from around the world to cultivate his obvious talent 
  • and as much as some people might have thought it was “unfit” for a prince of a country to also be a celebrity,,,,,,,more people in the country supported him
  • because after winning a competition for singing, that landed him on international TV, people started to flock to the country
  • not only to be tourists, but to see seungkwan
  • who admittedly, was first sheepish about fame, but soon grew to be extremely good in front of cameras
  • like not only was he an amazing singer, with singles that climbed the charts, but he was funny and charming 
  • (and handsome beyond belief, even more so in person)
  • so it was no surprise he was gaining fans,,,,,and even if he was royalty,,,,he still signed t-shirts and posed for photos and made constant grateful gestures towards those who said they liked him
  • and ,,,,, singing has always made him the most happy
  • from singing in front of the entire country to singing in his shower in the morning
  • his parents were happy his career was bringing money to the country, but seungkwan was happy too - that he could meet other singers, people he looked up to 
  • and could share his voice with the world
  • every time he’d be traveling, he’d also be writing. ideas for lyrics and small poetry
  • when he was supposed to be taking part in meetings with other royals, they always asked for him to show off a piece of his song and he’d act blushy, but would sing it with ease if they really asked
  • one royal who had met seungkwan at a conference described him as always cheerful, but with a voice that could make you feel so many different things
  • honestly, one of his own bodyguards on the lowkey asked seungkwan for his signature so he could give it to his daughter and seungkwan not only gave it, but also told the bodyguard that his daughter could come see him perform for free if she wished
  • seungkwan had never seen a grown, ripped man jump for joy before that day hehe
  • and you’ve been friends with seungkwan since your mother was one of his singing tutors 
  • she didn’t have anyone to take care of you sometimes, so she was allowed to bring you to lessons as long as you stayed quiet 
  • of course being the same age as seungkwan,,,,he was quick to befriend you and when your mom wasn’t looking you two would make faces at each other or whisper jokes into each others ears
  • do kid stuff, that otherwise seungkwan wasn’t really allowed to do
  • and as you two got older it got more and more apparent that seungkwan,,,,,was lonely inside the palace
  • so even when you were old enough to stay at home by yourself, you insisted on coming along with your mother
  • just so you could be seungkwan’s company, that you could see he really really needed
  • at some point, you became allowed to visit seungkwan without your mother. you would walk around the giant gardens, visit the stables, play in the tennis courts, and sit with seungkwan in his huge bedroom - listening to him practice his vocals
  • you two were the definition of best friends,,,,,, until seungkwan got famous
  • he was always famous as the prince, but after winning that award he became famous as a celebrity
  • he had no time to idle around with you, and he didn’t even need lessons from your mother anymore
  • seungkwan tried, multiple times to invite you over, but last-second you’d receive word from a servant or seungkwan’s staff that he was busy - he couldn’t see you
  • which was why, when you got a note - in seungkwan’s unique handwriting - to meet him at the village bridge that night, you were ecstatic 
  • of course you had village friends, family members, and other people to hang out with but seungkwan had always been your best friend
  • he made you laugh the loudest, smile the widest, and in general he made your heart warm with his antics and welcoming personality
  • you wondered sometimes when you saw him on TV, doing interviews and singing, that sure he made people laugh and people adored him - but did anyone know him like you did
  • the afternoons in his room, listening to him fumble with lyrics, chuckle it off, then try again
  • you two would eat treats from the palace kitchen on the balcony, hidden from seungkwan’s parents and do impressions of royal guards or higher ups
  • seungkwan asking you what it was like to go to actual school, to have actual friends
  • your mother once told you that you shouldn’t fall in love with him,,,,which you had made a face at because ew,,,,we’re just best friends!!! but looking back on it,,,,maybe,,,maybe she was right
  • waiting on the bridge,,,you couldn’t deny the beating of your heart or the way the same mundane stars in the sky made you actually smile
  • and when seungkwan appeared, looking over his shoulder it took a lot out of you not to run over and hug him
  • “how have you been?”
  • he asked,,,,up close you could see his face was slimmer than before. he’d lost weight again.
  • “alright, you? i saw your performance from england on TV last night. is it tiring?”
  • seungkwan gives a small chuckle “nothing is tiring for me, you know i can handle anything.”
  • “you’ve always been the best”
  • seungkwan’s smile falters, and the usual sparkle in his eyes seems to have dulled
  • “i need to tell you something.”
  • you lean against the rail of the bridge,,,it’s fall and so you’re wrapped in a long sleeved sweater,,,,you notice that seungkwan is wearing only a button down shirt 
  • “ok, but aren’t you co-”
  • “im getting married.”
  • your breath hitches in your throat and you stare at him in silence as you try to process the last word of his sentence
  • married? aren’t you too young?
  • his eyes flick away from yours and he does a small shuffle
  • “i mean, im not getting married TOMORROW, but it’s going to happen in a year - maybe two. it’s to another famous singer, it was arranged by our parents.”
  • the explanation doesn’t stop the buzzing in your brain,,,,,married,,,,,,seungkwan,,,,,,married?? 
  • sensing your stare, seungkwan grabs the rails and goes “it’s such a nice night, you can see all the stars! that one, the little one looks like woozi, do you remember him he’s one of the sons of -”
  • “do you like them?”
  • seungkwan stops talking and looks over at you again
  • “woozi?”
  • “no, the person you’re m,,,marrying”
  • seungkwan makes a face, but doesn’t say no. instead he goes “i never thought about marriage till now. if it’s good for my country than-”
  • “i understand.”
  • seungkwan looks at you like he doesn’t know what you mean, but you only smile back
  • “i hope you guys grow to really like one and other. im glad you told me, ill be cheering for you.”
  • with that, you push off the railing and motion to the road you need to take home. seungkwan doesn’t move from his spot, but he seems to want to say something
  • you’re not sure you want to hear it so you say goodbye, that it’s late and he’ll probably get in trouble with the guards. seungkwans nods and you wave before walking away
  • you don’t hear him call out your name, softly under his breath
  • a couple of months pass and you get a package in the mail
  • half expecting it to be wedding invitations, you don’t touch it for a good week. till finally you decide it’s now or never
  • to your surprise, it’s no invited, it’s a stack of photos wrapped in pretty ribbon
  • you carefully take them out, one by one and see the photo of you and seungkwan
  • so young, happy, running through the gardens
  • another one is just you, you have seungkwan’s crown on your head that is way too big and you’re laughing
  • the other is of seungkwan, he’s wearing the same crown, lopsided from it’s size, laughing too
  • at the end of the pile is a letter;
  • thought you might want to see these, are you free to see me some time?
  • the signature is seungkwan’s and you place it back in the box. you’re not sure if you want to answer it or not
  • part of you knows that seungkwan has no choice in the matter of his marriage, when do royals ever do, but part of you is angry that he didn’t even,,,,
  • he didn’t even try to tell you that he might have feelings for you,,,
  • but the again you don’t even know if he does, you shouldn’t blame him if he doesn’t, but it still hurts
  • you sit at your desk,,,,looking at the paper and write ‘i want to see you too. tell me when.’
  • you get a reply, along with a card that tells you there will be a dinner hosted by the royals
  • your mother is even invited, along with other tutors of seungkwan and prior staff
  • on the evening of, you see seungkwan standing beside a gorgeous young girl at the top of the stairs
  • they’re laughing and her auburn curls frame her naturally pretty face
  • you make eye contact and quickly, you cast your gaze down
  • “at least there’s free caviar” you try to uplift yourself, but as soon as you manage to get to the display of delicacies at the other end of the room, someone grabs you
  • turning around you see the girl who was standing beside seungkwan
  • with an accent, she tells you to come with her and you don’t even manage to stutter out a reply till she’s pulled you out of the crowded room and into the desolate hallway
  • is she going to tell me to keep away from seungkwan? is this my last night? am i royally and utterly fuc-
  • “seungkwan loves you.”
  • you pause and go “e-excuse me?”
  • with a smile the girl lets you go and repeats herself, “seungkwan loves you.”
  • “no he do-”
  • a gloved finger comes up to hush you
  • “you have seen him on tv, yes? the smiling, the laughing, he told me he can only be like that because he thinks of the one person who makes him happy. it’s you. without you, he’s just - what is the word -”
  • “im a mess”
  • turning around you see seungkwan in the hallway
  • the girl nods, touching your arm gently again before disappearing to leave you two alone
  • “your fiance just told me you love me, so im not sure what is happening,,,,”
  • seungkwan walks closer and you can see in the dim light, the sparkle in his eyes that wasn’t there the last time you two met
  • looking refined, in a full suit with the country’s coat of arms pinned to his lapel, his crown - the same one in the photos fits perfectly, and the smile 
  • the smile that makes your heart do flips,,,,, is just for you, ,,, 
  • “she wasn’t supposed to confess for me, but i guess she took my spotlight”
  • he jokes, taking your hand
  • the music starts playing from the other room and seungkwan motions if you’d like to dance
  • “i would like to talk actually.”
  • “we can do both.”
  • with his hand on your waist, you and seungkwan turn through the empty hall
  • you look at him,,,swallowing your nervousness
  • “how can you love me if you’re going to marry her?”
  • “because my heart decided it, it was like ‘no seungkwan - you are going to be madly and forever in love with your best friend. not take backs’.”
  • you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile on your face
  • “but what about ,,, the marriage?”
  • “well first, tell me - do you love me too?”
  • he twirls you around and you stumble, but his hand catches you in time
  • “i,,,of course i do.”
  • seungkwan leans in, kissing your forehead and you’re sure there must be fireworks going off in your heart
  • “then we’ll make it work. watch.”
  • seungkwan takes your hand firmly in his, you follow clumsily as he walks back into the ballroom
  • without a word, he leads you up the staircase
  • in the crowd, you see the girl giving you a thumbs up, the shock on your mothers face, and the worry on the queen and kings
  • “excuse me, can i have your attention?”
  • seungkwan calls out when you two get to the top
  • the entire packed room turns, silent 
  • “a lot of the people here tonight mean the world to me. but someone means the universe, the world, space, beyond that - and it’s them,,,”
  • seungkwan steps to the side and everyones eyes focus on you
  • “i love them, and i want everyone to know now. in the future, if im going to marry anyone - it’s them.”
  • the crowd is quiet, but then breaks out into cheers. someone shouts out that young love is beautiful
  • your mother smirks to herself knowingly, and you’re pretty sure the queen has fainted
  • but seungkwan’s hand is warm on your cheek as he lean in to press his lips to yours
  • this time, the cheers of the people are the fireworks
  • and you can’t believe it, but your kissing your best fried - the prince
  • when he pulls back seungkwan whispers “that should take care of the arrange marriage, aren’t i genius?”
  • you giggle, telling him to stop being so funny but at the same time he’s right 
  • the next morning the entire country is bustling with news of seungkwan’s love confession 
  • ,,,,,,and his ex-fiance is apparently happy to be back in her own country,,,,with her own real love 
  • you almost die when you see a photo of you and him on the front page of the newspaper and your mother just points to it like
  • “i told you so”
Seven Minutes In Heaven

Edmund Pevensie x Reader 

Words: 1125
Prompt: (anon) heyy I see you’re doing Narnia requests! if possible I have a request for some sort of Narnian seven minutes in heaven with Edmund? I just think it would be adorable and hot
A/N: I put out a call for requests this morning and got this gem back and I knew I had to write it pretty much the moment I was finished with studying. After listening to some Kodaline and getting inspired; this is what I came up with. It came out WAY sexier than I intended, but I sort of love it. Let me know what you think or you can request another shiny amazing Narnia fic!

Originally posted by evennstars

Spring blossoms fell from the Narnian trees around Cair Paravel; slowly dancing on the warm breeze as they came to rest along the windows. Edmund always loved this time of year; something about the spring air brought with it feelings of hope and change.

On this particular evening, though; he was feeling more spirited than usual. They had company in the castle drawing room; Susan had insisted that they all needed to spend more time socialising and less time working, which Edmund was pretty happy about. Various groups of people were scattered around the huge room; Edmund was sitting on the floor by the fireplace where a large group of his friends were playing some sort of game.
“…It was supposed to be Lily’s turn. Someone should go and find her.” One of the women said, her hands folded in her lap “there are rules, you know.”
“Oh, don’t! I think it’s lovely that she’s helping me out with icing the cake” Lucy cooed before looking up at Edmund slyly.
“Besides” she smirked “Edmund hasn’t had a go yet”.
Edmund flushed bright red.
“I don’t even know if I want a go, Luce. I’m still mulling it over.”
“Do what you want, Ed. I’m going to check on the food. Anyone coming?”
A few of Lucy’s close friends followed suit, and Edmund scooted into her spot.
Sitting across from him, attempting to look nonchalant; (y/n) twirled a coil of hair around her finger. Her eyes caught in the firelight, and Edmund felt his breath hitch in his throat the way it always did when he was around her. She was one of his closest friends; they joked and laughed together for hours around the castle when he wasn’t busy pouring over papers. Day by day, those feelings had grown into something more; something that made his head giddy and his hands clammy.
Of course he hadn’t told her. Because he was an absolute idiot, and absolute idiots didn’t get to be with pretty lovely girls like her.
“Did you…want a turn, Your Majesty?” one of the other girls asked, smiling shyly as her face flushed red. She was pretty; brown curls and a soft smile. He saw (y/n) suppressing a smirk at her referring to him as “Your Majesty”, and Edmund narrowed his eyes.
“This seems like a terrible idea” Edmund sighed “but I may as well”.
Picking up the glass bottle on the carpet, he gave it a strong spin. The bottle span wildly for a few seconds; Edmund wondered if those may have been some of the longest seconds of his life.

The bottle stopped.
Edmund felt his heart stop with it, for a second.
(y/n) blinked, her face flushing absolute beetroot red when she saw it had landed on her. Edmund saw her bite her lip to stifle a slight smile, and he felt his heart sing. He swore the girl who suggested he play looked disappointed, but now wasn’t the right time to think on that.
“We don’t…I mean…if you don’t want to…” Edmund began, his voice all pitchy with nerves.
“No! I’d-” (y/n) began, before taking a deep breath “I mean, if you want to, we should do it. For the sport.”
“The sport” Edmund repeated, stunned. He stood up, his legs like jelly and his hands shaking and held out his hand to her.
She took it slowly, rising up to meet him. Her hands felt soft and smooth against his; he wondered if she could feel his nerves through them.
“I…have no idea where we’re supposed to go now” Edmund laughed.
“The big wardrobe in the corner over there” one of the girls said, pointing to an old mahogany wardrobe nestled in the corner of the room.
Edmund could have laughed at the irony if he wasn’t so scattered.

Walking over, he pulled open the handle; the wardrobe was roomy enough for two, but still on the smaller side. There were a few coats hung up on the rack; probably Susan’s, judging by the cut. He stepped inside, the wood creaking under his boots.
(y/n) bit her lip, following him in and softly closing the doors. Outside, Edmund could hear cheers and whistles, and the vague sound of Peter’s voice asking where he’d gone.
But for the most part; it was just them.
He could smell her lavender perfume; feel the warmth of her skin as they stood facing one another. The silence hung in the air, but Edmund could feel electricity moving between them like a current where their skin came close to contact; could feel her cool breath on his face. He wanted to capture this moment; even if nothing came of it at all. The feeling of apprehension sent shocks down his spine; made him feel alive.
“You know” (y/n) whispered, shifting her weight slightly “this might be the quietest you’ve ever been”.
Edmund chuckled quietly, his hand reaching out slowly from his side. When he found hers, he gently brushed the back of his against it, his fingers twitching with nerves.
“I have a lot on my mind at the moment” Edward swallowed, feeling slightly dizzy.
“Ed?” (y/n) asked, her voice lower than usual.
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you, please?”
Edward laughed in disbelief, feeling giddy and excited and terrified all at once. It came out more like a whimper than a laugh, and the sound was odd.
“Yes. God, yes.” Edward breathed, his hand moving to hold hers softly.
He felt her move closer; felt her chest press against him. Everywhere they touched sent fire through his veins.
And then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers.
The sensation was overwhelming. Waves of emotion leapt through him, moving his hands to place one around her waist and the other tangled in her hair, the silky strands coiling around his fingertips. Her breath hitched as he leaned into the kiss, feeling as though he might otherwise drown. (y/n) nipped at his bottom lip slightly and he could barely stifle the moan that escaped him, muffled against her mouth. She drew up against him, pushing him against the side of the wardrobe, fists of his shirt in her hands as he shook with passion, taking a brief pause from her mouth to nip at the crease of her neck. She whispered his name, and he could taste the faint lavender perfume on her skin.

When they both pulled away, they were breathing heavily. Edmund tried to blink away the headrush, but stars were dancing on his vision.
“How…was that?” (y/n) breathed, the crack in the wardrobe illuminating the smile on her lips.
“Heaven” Edmund grinned, pressing his lips against her forehead before they stepped back out of their little piece of paradise.

Low-Cut

Requested.

Song or quote:  Guys My Age by Hey Violet 
Who: Ezra Miller

I haven’t seen my ex since we broke up
Probably ‘cause he didn’t wanna grow up
Now I’m out and wearing something low-cut
'Bout to get attention from a grownup
Guys my age don’t know how to treat me
Don’t know how to please me, don’t know how to read me
Guys my age don’t know how to touch me
Don’t know how to love me good


[Y/N] was usually a good girl. She minded her manners, always smiled, and always appreciated what she had in life. The film industry fell head over heels for her the minute she was cast in her first ever movie. She became Hollywood’s Girl Next Door in a matter of minutes and [Y/N] didn’t mind that title because every girl next door type had a little secret and her secret was that she just wanted to be loved and touched by someone who knew what they were doing. 

Her boyfriend or now ex-boyfriend couldn’t please her in the least. It wasn’t terrible but it wasn’t necessarily satisfactory. She wanted to feel an out of body experience, wanted to feel like those women in the porn videos, wanted to lose her eyes in the back of her head, and above all, have someone just know what she wanted. 

So, here she was. On her eighteenth birthday wearing something low-cut. Staring at herself in the mirror, [Y/N] almost contemplated wearing something a little less revealing. People were sure to comment on her dress in the tabloids the next morning. Did she really want that? Biting on her lip, she pulled the top portion up a little, frowning when it sank back down to reveal the little cleavage she had. 

“Fuck it.” [Y/N] murmured. She looked hot and it was her birthday, she wanted a little bit of attention. Perhaps there would be some worthy partners at the party she had gotten invited to. Grabbing her clutch and her phone, she headed out the door and into the taxi. 

Ezra had humored his friend Logan and ventured out into the night to a party he really had no business attending. He wasn’t even invited but he would assume neither were half the dancing bodies in the club. He chuckled as girls flung themselves in every direction. He wasn’t interested until he saw [Y/N] sitting at the bar with a few girls he recognized from magazines.

She looked stunning, and by that, it was bit of an understatement. He had seen [Y/N] in magazines, in films, and on television shows. This couldn’t be the same girl. America was obsessed with her good nature and innocence. If only they could see her now, he thought. [Y/N] looked like she was about be on a spread of a Maxim magazine. 

[Y/N] laughed, dipping her head forward, causing her loose curls to hide her pretty face. She scanned the crowd before her eyes fell on Logan, [Y/N] squealed. Excusing herself from the girls, she bounded towards Logan and Ezra. 

“Logan!” [Y/N] exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around him. “How have you been?” She slurred.

He steadied her, quirking a brow in her direction. “Are you drunk?” 

“It’s my birthday,” she purred, “I can drink if I want to.” 

Logan narrowed his eyes, “You could if you were twenty one, [Y/N].” Flickering a look towards Ezra, he handed her teetering body towards him. “Will you watch her for a second? I’m going to go get her a glass of water and talk to the fucking bartender.” 

Before Ezra could say anything, Logan was gone. With his arm around her swaying body, he glanced down at her. Fuck, she’s gorgeous. 

“Hey! I know you!” [Y/N] moved her arms around his neck, purring into his ear. “You’re Ezra Miller, you’re Flash or well the better Flash.” Giggling, her teeth tugged on her bottom lip, “You’re a lot hotter in person. That jaw could send a girl on her knees.” 

This made him laugh, “Are you sure you’re Hollywood’s Girl Next Door?”

“Pft,” she snorted, rolling her eyes. Looking out into the dance floor, she squealed. “Come dance with me.” 

Ezra shook his head, laughing at her pout. “No, no. I don’t, I’m not dancing.” 

“Please,” she pleaded, her fingers digging into his shoulder. 

“Ha,” Ezra started, shifting from the physical contact she gave him. “Don’t you have a boyfriend?” 

“Nope.” She said matter-of-factly. Shrugging her shoulder, she leaned in close, her lips almost brushing up against his ear lobe. “He couldn’t fuck me right.” 

Licking his lips, his eyes narrowed into her. “And what would you know about that, America’s sweetheart?” 

[Y/N] mimicked his motion and licked her own lips, “A lot more than you think I do.” Pulling herself from him, she swayed a little. “But, if you’re willing to be a teacher, I’ll be more than happy to be a student.” 

Ezra’s jaw clenched. He looked off towards the bar where Logan was busy laying into it with the bartender. Raking a hand through his hair, he looked dead straight in her eyes, “Lead the way.” 

Revenge Served Hot

Request: Damon smut where you he got in a fight with you so you buy lingerie, wear it around the house to mess with him and end up having make up sex? – Anon

Pairings: Damon x Reader

Warnings: swearing, smut

Word Count: 1618

(gifs not mine, credits to owners)

Damon’s POV

I love (y/n) more than anything but she can be a total bitch most of the times, which makes her the perfect fit for me, the downside to it, we almost always argue about the little things. May it be when I don’t put the toilet seat down, or forgetting to turn off the light, or maybe forgetting to gas up her car when I use it. As of the moment, our current argument is that I finished the toothpaste and didn’t get a new one.

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2

My hair looked so pretty when I took it down today :0

Sleep Routines (+ dreams)

(Someone suggested this but I can’t find the comment so if this was your idea let me know. Also I’m not entirely sure what you meant so if this isn’t it feel free to clarify)

Cinder: Fairly heavy sleeper, but her cyborg systems will wake her up if necessary. Sleeps curled up and pretty much anywhere. And I guess her dreams are explained in the books so. 

Kai: Light sleeper. He falls asleep at meetings a lot but wakes up very easily, usually when Torin jabs him in the ribs. Master of sleeping sitting up. Either dreams about his parents visiting him with advice or nightmares about losing Cinder/the Rampion Crew.

Scarlet: HEAVY sleeper. Tends to sleep spread out, maintaining her  tough demeanor even when she’s asleep. Fidgets and twitches a lot when she sleeps. Happy but nostalgic dreams of her parents or Grandmere, reiterations of memories from when they were all together.

Wolf: Light sleeper, learned from sharing barracks with the more vicious soldiers. Sleeps very still and very straight. Sometimes sleeps with his eyes open, which scared everyone the first few times. Dreams a lot about losing his loved ones again.

Cress: Light sleeper, had to be prepared to fix things on the satellite or if Sybil was coming to check in without warning. Often sleeps in a fetal position because she feels safer that way. Dreams about being lost in the desert without Thorne, which makes her panic, or dreams about being chased by Sybil. She also dreams about her father, though in her dreams they are always separated and never meet.

Thorne: Heaviest sleeper on the team. You could probably do anything to him while he is asleep and he wouldn’t wake up. He is also the heaviest snorer of the nine. Sleeps spread-eagled literally anywhere. Mostly dreams about himself or losing his friends.

Winter: Light sleeper. She will wake up if you breathe too loud and Jacin makes everyone be as quiet as possible when she’s asleep. Likes to wrap herself up in her blankets so that only the top of her head is exposed. Dreams about losing her parents, Levana’s abuse, and being in suspended animation.

Jacin: Super light sleeper. Hardly ever sleeps for more than a few hours at a time. Dreams about Winter.

Iko: Well…she’s an android so…?


Ok sorry the dreams are so sad for everyone but I feel like none of them really have happy things to dream about considering all they went through.

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Huddling for warmth or they'll die, sexual tension results -I can never get enough

I love this trope a whole lot, anon. thanks for sending it in! hope you like it :)

ao3


Clarke lets her head fall back against the wall with a thump. It’s only been a couple of hours, and already her phone is dead, her ass is aching from the hard concrete floor, and she’s starting to shiver.

It wasn’t her fault she got locked in the lab. Really.

She’d insisted Monty go home when he offered to stay back with her, telling him she just had a few more things to finish up. She thinks better with a clean workstation, but she’s not in the habit of tidying as she goes, so every now and then she stays an extra twenty minutes after work to clean up. How could she have known the big storage room– kept at a specific, chilly temperature– locks from the outside after hours?

There was no way she could’ve anticipated it, though that doesn’t stop her from berating herself the longer she sits, cold and annoyed and bored.

She’s done everything she can think of to do. She tried to call for help, but found that she had no service. Tried banging on the doors, but that’s useless when nobody is around to hear her.

So she resigned herself to her fate– spending the night right where she sat. She played games on her phone until she realized she’d want it throughout the night to check the time. She organized the shelves, built a tower out of tissue boxes, and set out paper towels to sit on, protecting herself from the cold, cold floor. But now it’s eight thirty, far too early to go to sleep, and she’s out of ideas.

Another thump as her head falls back against the wall again. And another. It’s been two and a half hours, is she already going crazy?

All of a sudden, the door opens.

She squints against the brightness, momentarily blinded.

“Holy shit,” someone says, as she blinks furiously. “Are you okay?”

“Thank god,” she sighs, scrambling to her feet, her limbs stiff. When she looks up again, she can make out the figure of a security guard, just as he steps further in. Too far. “No, no, no–” she cries, rushing toward the door, but it’s too late. It shuts behind him with an ominous locking sound. She swears and beats on it with her palms, knowing it’s no use.

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Down the Rabbit Hole

Originally posted by carezero

Paring: Maknae line x Reader

Genre: Wonderland!Au / Angst / Smut / Drabble series

Rated T for mentions of drugs, madness and mature themes

Word count: 5.2k

Synopsis: It took Y/n months - years. Infinite days of searching, of wondering, of grasping to the tiny, fragile hope of not being crazy as everyone said.

(But, really, who isn’t a child of madness in this world?)

And, finally, she found it: the key to open the gates to Wonderland. So, with a smile curling her lips and liquid danger between her fingers, the girl gladly fell once again.      

Author’s note: So, dunno what this thing is, an experiment, maybe. Hope you’ll enjoy this darkish, messy lil series (but I swear this has some kind of sense in my mind).


Prelude // part 1 // part 2


Part two – the Rabbit

                   “There was not a moment to be lost: away went Alice like the wind,

                                     and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner,

                                                ‘Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it’s getting!’”


The road disappears into the woods like a silent, ancient animal crawling between darkness and moonlit shadows. The Wonder it’s an eerie creature, yet Y/n doesn’t care, for her heart is steady just as much as her mind is crazy, and now she knows these woods are nothing more than a reflection of her own soul. Of course she could never be scared.

So, the girl breathes in the musky, mischievous air: it’s nighty and pleasant in its sliding down her lungs, almost lethargic under the sound of her feet wandering the glassy pathway. Faintly, a grin curls up on her pretty face.

Wrong way was carved into the signboard, the girl remembers as she keeps going, but really how could a road ever be wrong? Perhaps it will take her to nowhere, she wonders, lips trapped beneath her teeth. Jimin’s taste is still lingering on the right corner and her tongue just a little swipes over it to savour the last drops of impudence he left there: mmhm, a bit of evil, a bit of tenderness and – desire? love? Maybe, probably both.

Y/n smiles, small giggles bubbling up to the depth of her throat. Delicious.

And it’s exactly in that moments that she hears it, with hands clasped behind her back and eyes up to the moon she can’t see for the thick foliage. There’s a voice, that’s slicing through the forest right to her beating heart, a voice boyish and unforgettable like the first time her mouth has been kissed – actually, she still remembers the taste of sugary tea along his lips.

“Oh no, I’m late, I’m late.”

For a very important date.

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Rain Like Ash

“So you’re Caroline.”

She turned, strands of her ponytail curling around her throat in the summer breeze. The alley was dark except for the moon, electricity scarce in this part of New York. She’d never have thought the first time she’d visit the city if her childhood dreams that she’d be in a dystopian nightmare.

The man in front of her was just as easy in the dark as she, but the feel of him told her he didn’t have witchblood. No, this was something different. Pretty curls and lips, he could have been one of those old paintings she’d only seen on Wikipedia before the world went dark. But the curve of his smile, the calculation in his eyes promised something far more dangerous.

“So I am.”

That smile widened, teeth white in the moonlight, and she studied him with cautious eyes. He seemed to enjoy her watchfulness, strolling closer. She wondered if he was brave or simply didn’t care that she had become a weapon when magic had recreated the world.

“I’d heard a fireborn walked my city, but you aren’t what I expected.”

She arched a brow. “Blonde?”

“Lovely.”

Caroline snorted, ignoring his attempt at charming. Instead she focused on his claim that the city belonged to him. “So I take it you’re Klaus.”

Dimples tucked into both cheeks, and she understood it wasn’t just the power that radiated from him that made him dangerous. She hadn’t expected him to be charismatic under the rage she’d heard about. His witch blood had been dead for a millennia, and now his power came from blood and the moon. An unkillable hunter.

“You’ve heard of me.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Hard to miss it when you have such a tendency for messy, public executions.”

An unexpected laugh, hands sliding into the pockets of his jeans. “Most people are a bit more… circumspect with their tongues, in the hopes to keep them.”

Caroline supposed she should be afraid. Klaus would follow through that particular threat if she pushed, but her first lesson as a firestarter had been to never let fear control her. Fire was a rush, but it could become wild, so she’d learned control.

Things only burned now if she wanted them too.

“Sounds boring,” she said simply. “Is there a reason you tracked me down?”

A hint of a dimple, and he freed his hands to motion to wards her wrist. “If I may?”

She could deny him, but it was a simple enough request. One others had made, but not nearly so polite. With a sigh, she offered her wrist, eyes narrowed in warning as he held her hand gently, gaze studying the tattoo that circled the bone.

When Magic had recreated the world, it’d bestowed great and terrible gifts. Witchblood had been the most dramatic, the truth of their nature turning more elemental. The Ouroboros that circled her wrist was done in flickering shades of blue and white, a physical representation of her power. She’d heard the Phoenixes were more common, red fire a familiar sight in the charcoaled pits of burned out cities.

“Blue fire,” he murmured, thumb brushing across skin that hadn’t been touched in decades, and she pulled her hand free. Her skin still buzzed, power a lingering caress against her skin. “Uncommon in an elemental.”

“Planning on trying for a bite?” She drawled, gaze narrowed. Vampires could steal power if they drank enough blood, but it only lasted until their next feed.

“From you?” Klaus said thoughtfully, something calculating and predatory behind his eyes. “Not tonight.”

Faint flickers of blue fire danced suddenly between them, the edges paling to white. “I’m not easy prey.”

His hands clasped behind his back in a faux-show of contriteness. “Let me buy you dinner.”

“Not interested,” she said firmly, tucking her power away. “You’re known for eating people, not charming them.”

“I can be very charming,” he denied, something like delight sparking behind his eyes. “Why waste it on the unworthy?”

Caroline laughed then, brushing her hair away as he watched her with eyes ringed in gold. Blood and moon called, this monster with his double fangs and hungry beasts watched her with a hunger she didn’t know how to categorize. “Should I infer that you wish me to believe I’m worthy?”

A glittering glance, and he took an easy step away. “Do you not?”

“I make a point not to assume,” she said instead of answering. “If this interview is over…”

A dip of his head, a king’s dismissal, but the expression behind his eyes warned her that this was only an opening salvo. He’d sought her out for a reason, and her Ouroboros had intrigued him. Lips pursed as she watched him walk away, she brushed a single flaming fingertip across her wrist, attempting to wipe away the feel of his flesh against hers.

It didn’t quite work.

Season 4 AU Mary lives no sherrinford. Molly and Sherlock are kind of in limbo feelings wise


Sherlock pauses at the doorway, the fatigue that had pulled at his limbs disappearing into the ether at the sight in his living room. Molly sits on the floor amid a pool of stuffed animals. As he draws nearer he saw that the animals were actually anatomy correct organs with smiley faces.

Rosie regards her godmother from her enthroned position in John’s chair-Sherlock had mentally renamed it “watson’s chair”

“Okay,” Molly says picking up a bright green stuffy and held it up to her goddaughter.

“Now this is a spleen, Sp–leeen” Molly intones. Next Molly holds up a white stuffy “tooth,” she smiles brightly to demonstrate her own teeth.

This goes on for a little while, Molly holding up a plushie, identifying the organ and letting Rosie have a squish before she loses interest and Molly moves on. By the time Rosie is ready for preschool she’ll be able to not only recognise shapes and colours but probably be able to name every organ in the body.

Sherlock watches, a few years ago he would not have understood such a scene, would have scoffed at it. But years of living with john and under the influence of Molly and Mary he understood.

The feeling that had haunted his dreams and waking hours was starting to catch up with him. The narrow, shallow box he had created for Molly all those years ago, had expanded and somehow she was the most important person in his life. Which was a feat considering that life included Rosie.

At the edge of the pile Sherlock saw a little red heart smiling up at him. He bent, picking it up, feeling the warmth of it in his hand. He looks at Molly. Slowly he kneels beside Molly, proffering the heart to his goddaughter. Rosie’s pudgy face alights at the gift.

“Heart,” Sherlock says mimicking Molly’s tone. He looks sideways at her, eyes soft and warm, hair curling around her pretty face. It takes much more focus then it should to look back at his goddaughter. “Heart.” He repeats. “The most important organ there is”

Yandere

Word Count: 1583

Genre: Yandere!Taehyung

|| He’s not crazy, he says. He’s fine, he says. Kim Taehyung tells himself the craziest things while he watches her from afar. He’ll do anything to keep her, anything to keep other men away from his precious angel. After all, he’ll always be with her.

Jimin Ver. | Tae Ver. 

Originally posted by taestylips

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