i can feel it slowly drifting away

Reggie x Reader: Unspoken Words (One Shot)

Shoutout to @smollmikey for the amazing prompts everything was amazing!

Prompts:

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.” 

“It would’ve been better if we never met.”

“I can’t fall in love with you.  I don’t want all the pain that comes with it.

Originally posted by knightons

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.” 

“What?” Reggie was surprised when you suddenly spoke behind him, not expecting a girl (much less you) in the boy’s locker room. He saw you standing there in the dim lighting and his heart started beating twice as fast. Anyone with a working brain can see the tension in your stance and the fragility of your will. 

“I tried so hard, Reg.” You sniffed, clearly crying but still managing to give Reggie a smile that makes his soul shake. 

“I joined the Vixens thinking cheerleaders were your type.” You slowly took steps forward and Reggie just wants to grab you in his arms to obliterate any negative thoughts he knows is consuming your mind but he can’t. He did this. He dug his own grave and now he must lie on it. 

“I skipped class hoping just to spend more time by your side.” You were so close but something in your eyes was so distant it makes Reggie’s spine tingle. 

“I lied, sneaked out, and went to parties I don’t even like just hoping and praying that finally you would realize that … I love you.” You sniffed. “I have loved you for a while now.” 

Reggie knew you liked him – have liked him since freshman year. He always passed it off as a joke and always managed to swerve out of any confrontation between you two not because he was not interested but because he was – and it made him afraid. Reggie never knew what being loved felt like, to be truly and fully loved for all he is. Everybody just seemed to have a motive when it comes to him. He is unfamiliar with the territory of love and he is afraid of delving in what you could offer him in the fear that it would make him vulnerable to you. 

He doesn’t want to become vulnerable to anybody. 

So he kept you at an arm’s length: close enough to be special but far enough to keep him safe. He knew you were hurting but he didn’t know the extent of it. He doesn’t know that every time he whispers sweet nothings in your ear when you’re alone at Pop’s but ignore the sight of you when he walks in the hallway with his fellow jocks makes you want to vomit in disgust at yourself. He doesn’t know that every time he goes to a party and corners another pretty girl in the dark that isn’t you, it makes you question your worth over and over again. He doesn’t know that every time you are greeted with his cold stare, as if you were a nuisance, you can feel the cracks in your heart reopen making you feel like drowning from the pain only it was crueler since you just couldn’t die.You actually had to live with the pain.

He doesn’t know it because he never really cared. He had you and he thought it would stay that way forever. 

Now, he was looking at you as you slowly drifted farther and farther away from him and he realized, he should’ve cared. Because right now, he is watching the one scene that made his nightmares look like daydreams.

He was losing you.

“So now, I realized,”

“(Y/N), –“

“They were right.” You barely whispered but it was a bomb exploding in Reggie’s world. “They were all right.” 


“He is trouble.”

“Reggie will just break you in half.”

“Don’t come running to me for help when he drops you like a used wrapper.”

“You are nothing to him.”

“He will never love you.”


 You were in front of him now, just an arms away but it felt like a whole universe has separated you in between. You were gone and he couldn’t do shit about it. 

“It would’ve been better if we never met.” 

Reggie’s heart broke as he remembered.

He remembered your flustered face when the door blasted open from your weight when you were clearly spying on him on the boy’s locker room. How the excuses started sprouting out from your mouth about coach, and the science teacher, and detention but in that moment all Reggie could think about was how the pretty little stranger probably had a prettier name. 


“I’m Reggie,” he said, walking up to you and offering his hand as if you wouldn’t be too distracted by his bare torso.”You are?”You stared at his hand, plump bottom lip being bitten red. Reggie could still remember the relief he felt when you graced him with a smile and a name. “(Y/N).I’m (Y/N).” 


“You don’t mean that.” He was pleading and hurt but if he was too afraid to notice your pain before then you hoped he would understand that you were too hurt to care about his.

“I do.” You shook your head, tiny tears dripping to your face as a contradiction of your statement. “I may love you, Reggie but I … I can’t fall in love with you.  I don’t want all the pain that comes with it.” 

You scoffed, accidentally blinking causing the unshed tears to drop. “I have nothing to fight for when I have given you my world and you could barely give me a glance.”

“You are important to me, darling, you know that. I just –“

You gently placed your both your hands on each side of Reggie’s shoulders, making him confused and effectively cutting him off, until you went to the tip of your toes and gave him the smallest Eskimo kiss. It took him less than a second to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. He was never good with words but he was praying to God that his kiss will be enough to change your mind, to stop you from leaving. 

You both know it wasn’t.

You were gasping for air when you finally stopped kissing but Reggie was still persistent in giving you pecks where he can reach. You sniffed and hardened your heart. You placed your hand down his chest and slowly pushed him off, earning a grunt from Reggie as he tried to pull you closer.

“(Y/N), don’t …”

“This is goodbye, Reg.”

“Stop saying that! This is not over, we can talk about this!”

Reggie’s hands gripped your elbows but it wasn’t enough. Everything Reggie did and never did was always never enough

And as he watched you smile sadly, your hair bouncing as you ran away from him was when he realized he just lost the one person worth anything to him in the entire world.

He lost the love of his life by being afraid of love.

He lost you.

He punched the nearest locker on his right, resulting to a huge dent and a broken hand but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t able to mask the pain he felt on his chest.

It wasn’t supposed to end this way. 

Tonight was supposed to end with too many drinks, you on his bed, panting under him in exhaustion, and him staring at you while the night lost its youth as you slept, wearing his shirt that you would never return.

Not like this – 

With two broken hearts that can only be healed by too many words that will remain unspoken.  


SOME ANGST TO QUENCH MY THIRST FOR TRAGIC STORIES! Enjoy my lovelies xxx

„Depression isn’t feeling a little sad while you watch netflix in bed in your pjs

Depression isn’t a cute girl in a big sweater and messy bun giving you a small smile

Depression isn’t feeling hopeless until someone kisses your pain goodbye

Let me tell you about depression, from someone that actually has it. Depression is messy and gross. It’s not smudged mascara and cute girls crying. It’s grimy teeth and greasy hair because I haven’t managed to properly care for myself in days, weeks even. It’s not feeling a little down or tired at school. It’s the fact that I haven’t gone to school in over a week. It’s my future on a plate that I’m slowly letting drift away because I can’t pull myself out of bed anymore. It’s me starving because I can’t care enough to make food. It’s me laying in bed for hours, wondering how to die without putting in any effort. It isn’t a quirky picture of a girl in a dark room because she’s “different” I can have the lights on all fucking day, but the emptiness lingers. I can drown myself in the loneliness I feel as there are people right outside the fucking door. And it’s not because I’m different, it’s because I have an actual mental illness that makes me feel this way.

More than that though, depression ISN’t FEELING A LITTLE DOWN. It’s sitting there, feeling nothing and wishing, for the love of God to feel anything. But then when you do, the only thing you manage to feel correctly is pain and sadness and it’s overwheliming. Enough to send me into a panic attack. Enough to make me glad when the emptiness comes back. And the cycle continues. Over and over and over and over. It’s long and tiring and boring. There’s nothing interesting about being depressed because it’s a fucking boring cycle that seems endless. We all feel down sometimes, but when you’re down in your depression, it’s so fucking hard to get back up. Normal people have bad days and bounce back. Having depression is like every bad day drops you 20 more feet lower than rock bottom.

Depression is consuming and draining. I don’t have someone that can kiss the pain goodbye because all the kisses in the world won’t fucking cure this. Flowers don’t grow out of your scars and suicidal people aren’t angels waiting to go home. It isn’t pretty or poetic. The only thing that grows is the amount of scars on my arm. They aren’t pretty white lines that tell a beautiful story. They are horrible, jagged, puffy reminders of needing pain to cope with just being alive. We aren’t angels, we are sick. Mentally sick. My eyes aren’t “beautifully sad” they are sunken in and dark around the edges. There’s nothing beautiful about the noticeable dark bags or the blank stare as I can’t manage to even look like I have any emotion to what you’re saying to me. Cigarette smoke doesn’t create a beautiful fog that masks sadness. It is coughing your lungs out because you’re slowly killing yourself with a fucking stick of lung cancer. The smoke tastes bad and smells bad and only serves as a coping mechanism.

I am not a flower

or an angel

or a princess in search of prince charming

I am a mentally ill person. It isn’t fun or cute. Stop acting like this is a unique trend. Depression is ugly and it ruins your fucking life. There’s nothing poetic about that.”

—  Anonym
Make it Permanent (Snowbaz AU)

– Simon –

I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept more than 3 hours a night in weeks. I’ve been staying awake, watching Baz, trying to figure out what he’s planning. I’m sure Baz is up to something and I’m going to stop him. Penny doesn’t believe me of course (she hasn’t since fifth year) but he’s been staring more than usually lately and I’m certain he’s plotting my death. Penny thought this was ridiculous when I brought it up to her.

“Penny,” I had whined, “He won’t stop staring with his evil grey eyes and sometimes- sometimes he even smiles! I swear he’s thinking of all the ways he could kill me.”

Penny had just rolled her eyes and told me to drop it and focus on my homework.

School is a whole other issue. I just can’t get myself to focus on elocution and how slang affects spells when I know none of it is going to help me. I’m hopeless at magic. The only thing I can do is explode with it. I’m a weapon of mass destruction and I don’t fancy going off in the middle of class cause I tried to cast something as simple as dime a dozen. So instead I stare out of the window, gazing out at the Wavering Wood, listening to the sounds of my classmates casting spells in the classroom behind me. Most of the time, none of the teachers will call me out. They’re all scared I’ll go off too. They’d much prefer leaving the precious chosen one daydreaming out the window than risk having to clean up after me when I fuck up. Assuming I leave anything behind once I go off. So far I’ve managed to protect everyone when it does happen, but the risk is far too great. I most likely would have been expelled from Watford on the grounds that i’m a danger to the whole fucking world if I wasn’t the Chosen One.

The bell ringing distracts me from my thoughts and I push myself out of my desk, smiling at Penny when I meet her outside the door of the classroom.

My thoughts drift as we walk across the great lawn.

“Simon. Simon are you even listening?”

I glance over at Penny and realize she’s been talking to me the whole time.

“What? Sorry Pen. I’m exhausted.”

“Oh, Si.” she puts her hand up against my cheek and I lean into it. “How much sleep are you getting? You can’t stay up all night keeping an eye on him. He may be a nocturnal vampire, but you aren’t.”

“I know. I know,” I sigh.

“Look, just try and get some sleep tonight,” she says, “promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good.” She smiles at me. “Now I need to get to class. I’ll see you at supper, yeah?”

“Yeah.” I smile back and she turns, setting off back across the lawn.

I yawn. I still have two more classes today, but I could probably fit a quick nap in before my next one. I head closer to the Wavering Woods and flop down into the grass, my back against a tree. Just a quick nap, I think as I start to fade off.

– Baz –

I hurry out towards the Wavering Wood as soon as I get out of class. I haven’t had any blood for days because that idiot Snow has decided to start keeping odd hours, probably convinced I’m up to something again. Whatever his issue with me is this time, I haven’t been able to sneak out after hours without the danger of him following me like he did fifth year. I couldn’t risk it. But I’m starving and I need to drink something, at least a small badger, before my next class. My fangs have been popping every time a breeze blows my way, I feel like I’m thirteen again and just getting used to having fangs at all.

I’m so distracted that I don’t notice the sleeping boy beneath the trees until I trip over him. I crash down in a tangle of limbs and flailing.

“Fuck! Fuck! Are you alright? I’m so sorry! Fuck-”

I turn to see who I stumbled over and see curls and bright blue eyes, wide after being woken up so suddenly.

“Oh. It’s just you.” I sneer. “Hello Snow.”

He blinks stupidly at me for a moment, eyes as wide as saucers. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh you know. Just going for a nice stroll between classes until I was tripped by some idiot sleeping under a tree.”

He looks affronted at that. And he bloody well should be. It’s his fault I’m in this mess in the first place.

“Were you spying on me?” Snow narrows his eyes.

I scoff. “Snow, if I was spying on you, you wouldn’t know it. Now seeing as I’m practically in your lap, I think we can both come to the conclusion that is not what I was doing.”

And then I realize, I’m practically in his lap. Our legs are all tangled up together and I’m basically lying across him, my elbows in the dirt, scuffing up my button-up. I think he realizes this as well as I feel him start to shift his legs underneath me.

“Um…” he starts, blushing like mad. “Could you maybe, you know…” he trails off, gesturing at me.

“Right,” I say. My cheeks would be turning red if I had enough blood in me.

There’s a moment of almost silence as we try and untangle ourselves. Just Simon’s loud breathing.

I manage to get my arm up and around Simon to try and push myself up before I stop.

The world sways and spins around me.

“Are- are you alright?” Simon asks.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to push a sneer back on my face. “Yeah, I just. Y’know I think I may have hit my head”

Everything suddenly comes to a sharp focus as Simon puts his hands in my face, pulling me down closer to him. I realize I’m now completely on top of him, my hands on either side of his head. Aleister Crowley, as if this day could get any worse.

“Baz, Baz. Look at me.” Simon sighs. “Look, I may hate you, but I need to make sure you don’t have a concussion or something.”

I glance back down at him and his blue blue eyes stare into mine. I’m pretty sure I’m blushing now. What little blood left in me all rushing to my face at my closeness to Simon. After moments that seem like years staring into the depths of his eyes, he relaxes a bit.

“Okay,” he says, yawning a bit, “You’re probably fine but maybe you should just, stay here a bit.”

I nod my assent, too dizzy and distracted by Simon to argue.

He slowly guides me down to my elbows, and then to the ground, so that my right side is on the ground, but I’m still leaning against him. My head rests against his shoulder. I can feel his heartbeat, fast and steady through my palm that rests on his chest. I glance up and see him watching me, an odd look on his face.

“I still hate you, you know.” I nod and look away, pushing all of my panicked thoughts (what the fuck am I doing?) to the back of my head. I’m too dizzy to care what Simon feels for me at this moment, so long as I can stay curled up next to his warm body and feel his magic spark against his skin.

I slowly let my eyes fall shut, drifting off to the sound of Snow’s even breathing.

I wake up slowly, blinking at the twilight that has set in. The sun has gone down and I can’t remember what I’m doing outside. Then I glance over and see Simon. Simon, asleep beside me. I stare for hours, or maybe minutes, or maybe eternity. Tracing his moles from his eyelid to his cheek. Watching his chest rise and fall gently. How can he be so alive all the time? It fills me with envy. That he’s alive with such ease.

My stirring must have woken him, because his eyes open softly, piercing blue right into mine.

“Baz?” he whispers softly. Confused and still wrapped in sleep.

“What’re you doing here?” he mumbles.

“Shhhh, Simon” I say, because I can’t help myself. “You’re fine. Go back to sleep. You need it.”

“Mmm” he agrees, closing his eyes.

I start to shift, carefully trying to pull myself from his grip. I really need to feed, as much as I want to stay here with Simon forever.

“Where are you going?” he says softly.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”

I stand and watch him curl in on himself in my absence, and then walk towards the woods.

– Simon –

I wake in my bed. Confused and alone. I glance around our room but don’t see Baz. I remember falling asleep. His soft hair brushing up against my cheek in the grass. He seemed so innocent and soft when he was injured. Dizzy from hitting his head when he tripped over me. His eyes soft and scattered. Like a baby bunny I needed to take care of. Bunnicula maybe. The bed next to me is empty, but I don’t remember how I got up here. Sleep starts to seep over me again and I let it, closing my eyes.

Some time later I wake to the door creaking open.

“Baz?” I ask.

He looks up from the door, his hair falling in his eyes which glint a steel grey in the darkness.

“Yeah?” he asks. I can hear the hesitancy in his voice.

I decide to start with the easy questions.

“What time is it?”

“Um, probably a little after midnight,” he guesses.

“Where were you?”

He huffs a laugh and starts moving towards his bed. For once, I decide to leave it alone.

“Wait,” I say as he begins to climb into his bed. He pauses and turns to look at me. I swallow, suddenly unsure of what I was thinking.

“Um, do you wanna, maybe,” I take a deep breath, “sleep here, with me, tonight?”

I don’t expect the genuine smile that lights his face as he moves towards me cautiously.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, smiling back. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in months.”

“Maybe if you weren’t up all night watching me…” he starts, wrapping his arms around me.

“Well we’ll just have to make this a more permanent thing, so I can always know where you are.”

He laughs quietly, “I don’t think I’d mind that.”

this request actually comes from evie over at @ihearthemcallingxx who needed a little help filling all of the requests she was getting and she asked me to fill a couple for her. this one came from iv over at @stylessemantics, so here it is! thank you to both evie who let me do this one and to iv for requesting and i hope you don’t mind that i filled this instead of evie *insert eye emoji* and adding on to that i changed the prompt a little oops ?????

request: “The skirt is supposed to be this short.” ((kinda))

Keep reading

Good Morning

I slowly wake from my sleep to feel a warm embrace around my side, tender kisses on my neck, and a firm something pressed against my behind. I blink my eyes open and smirk a little bit.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Bellamy Blake?” I inquire

“Nothing at all.” He murmurs against my neck

“Oh good, then you won’t mind if I just go back to sleep…” I snuggle myself into the pillow a little more.

“Noooooo.” He protests, squeezing me closer then pulling me on top of him.

“No?” I ask innocently, looking into his beautiful brown eyes and studying the freckles on his face

He smirks.

“Y’know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were up to something.” I muse.

“Now why would you think that?” He asks, lifting his head to place a gentle kiss on my lips.

I return the kiss. It’s slow, gentle, tender. Loving. His hands are on my hips, slowly tracing circles with his thumbs. Slowly one hand drifts up under my shirt, delicately caressing my skin with his warm calloused fingers. The tiniest moan escapes my lips and I can feel his smirk through our kiss. Just as slowly his other hand slides up my other side and I arch my back just a little. Everything is so sweet, tender, full of affection. His hands move to the hem of my shirt, tugging for permission. I break away from the kiss and pull the shirt over my head, slowly, slowly, his eyes watching every inch of my skin as it’s exposed. He sighs contentedly when my shirt finally hits the floor.

His hands make their way to my breasts, softly massaging. I tilt my head back and let out another small moan. His hands move down to my thighs. Our hips begin to grind against each other sensually. This time it was his lips that let out a moan. I lean in and catch his lips again. Our tongues dance. Our lips move in synch. Then, ever so gently, he bites my bottom lip. For a second, everything stops as we both breathe deeply. His thumbs creep their way to the edges of my panties. I roll my hips against his and he moans again. He slips my panties off, lovingly caressing my legs as he does. Carefully, he rolls us over so he’s hovering above me. He slides his boxers off and looks at my face with a soft expression.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice is sweet like honey and makes my heart melt.

Our lips meet again. He takes one of my hands in each of his, interlacing our fingers and placing them just above my head on either side. Slowly and carefully he guides himself inside me, savouring the moment as my breath catches. His lips still on mine he begins to thrust gently, each movement careful and tender. My soft moans begin to rise in volume and he quickens his pace, our bodies moving as one. His lips move to my neck, nibbling and kissing and eliciting another moan from my mouth, matching one of his own. As the tension builds, I arch my back, desperately needing to be close to him. His thrusts become swifter, stronger, faster. My mind and body are unravelling. Lips crashing against each other in loving passion, we reach our climax together and slowly come down from the high.

Still hovering above me, he studies my face and smiles lovingly.

“Good morning.” He whispers.

anonymous asked:

I can only imagine Akira's head so crowded due to all those Personas he caught. He constantly has annoying voices clamoring in his head while he tries to focus... and then there's the feared Velvet Room.

I thought about this too!! I think he can only hear the voice of the Persona he awakened to, but it would be SO AWFUL if he just had everyone chatting all the time like poor boy, how would he sleep??? He goes through enough without all his obnoxious Personas shouting or doing other unnecessary things. ;_;

Besides, Arséne talks enough to make up for it LMAO like Akira’s trying to go to sleep and he’s slowly drifting away but then he hears ‘…Do you think pigeons have feelings?’ and he just groans and shoves a pillow over his face lolol. BUT THEN Zorro joins in since Morgana’s within close proximity, just sleeping on Akira’s tummy. And Zorro’s like ‘Callate, don’t be a fool. Pigeons killed my father’ and then the two start debating in Spanish and French, so Akira and Morgana have to cry themselves to sleep LMAO. Thank you for the hilarious headcanon, anon!! <33

I.

Credence wakes to the feel of his hair being pushed back, the feel of a kiss lingering against his temple.

“Perce?” he mumbles, brows creased, trying to fight the heavy weight of sleep.

“Go back to sleep,” Percival whispers, apologetic and weary, smoothing Credence’s brows with calloused fingers.

II.

Percival finds Credence on the rooftop, lying on the couch long since transfigured from an old coat and some pillows. He casts a spell, keeping himself dry as he approaches, and notes that the couch is spelled the same.

Credence, however, is not. Rain seeps into his clothes and runs down his cheeks like tears.

Keep reading

Summary: You never felt like this before, so free, so loved, so accepted. In the past days Hvitserk showed you another side of life you never saw before. But that comes with a cost, you’re a slave and who doesn’t obay got punished for it. Lucky for your is Hvitserk their that night and gives you the night to never forget.
Words: 2062
Tag: @filippazm (promised to tag you)


In the days that past you felt like a little butterfly, constanly flying from the one beauty to the other. You were dreamy all the time, causing you to be not that fast in your work and getting more complaiment from your boss. But how hard the days could be, it didn’t matter. Every morning you stood up with the idea that you were dreaming, that the last couple of days even didn’t happen. But then he showed up as a little reminder. You walked out of the smith to pick up something with some trader when he pulled you behind a shed, kissing you a good day. Your hand rested against his ribs while your other wrapped around his wrist. His fingers cupped your face, tenderly while his kiss maked you soft inside. When he pulled back you still had your eyes closed, getting the longing for more through your body. ‘How is your day?’ He asked you gentle. You opened your eyes and smiled, still that insecure smile of yours.
'Better now, thank you.’ You whispered, looking up to his charmant smile. He caressed your cheek while you kept your eyes resting in his. 'I need to go Hvitserk, he is already so angry for me being so dreamy all the time, I don’t want to get late to.’ You broke the gazing to each other.
'Can I see you tonight?’ He asked. You looked down on his chest, your hand moving a little against the side of his body.
'I’m always on the same place so you will find me.’ You answered him without looking up. He pulled you a little closer, you rested your head against his chest, taking in the nice smell of his body.
'I see you tonight.’ He said while pressing a kiss on your hair. You smiled against his chest and pulled slowly back. He stroke your cheek one last time before he left you with that warming feeling on the inside, like your heart wanted to jump out. You pushed your body away from the wood and walked back to the smith, with that little smile playing around your lips. When you arrived your boss was bussy with the fire.
'Do you have it?’ He asked when he saw you walking in empty handed. And than you realized you didn’t go to the trader to pick up his stuff. All of the sudden that shy insecurity came back in your body, trying to get anything over your lips that could sound as a explanation. 'You stupid girl!’ He hitted you with the palm of his hand. The slap wasn’t that big but while pulling away you hitted your head against some wood, causing a headwound that started bleeding. The tears where filling up you eyes when you touthed i tand looked at the blood on your fingers. 'Get out of my sight!’ He yelled at you. You turned around and ran out, straight to that little cabin in the woods where nobody really cared about you.

You laid curled up on your bed in the loneliness you were so just to. Douthing the two worlds you were drifting between. A world you knew, where you were a slave and worked all day long to walk back to your lonely life afterwards. And then you had that new world where Hvitserk pulled you in, you loved that new world but it brought your old one in danger. Your fingers stroke the headwound again, it wasn’t that big but your head pounded a little. You embraced your sheets again, looking through the small little room you had here in the cabin, slowly embracing the darkness that fell over the woods. The short knock on the door turned you attention elsewhere. You came from the bed and walked over to the door, looking up to Hvitserk who gave you his most loving smile, but it faddeded as soon as he saw the wound on your head. 'What happened?’ He asked concerned. You left him in the door and walked back inside, he followed you in an instant.
'Nothing really.’ You tried to push away his concern.
'Y/n.’ He grabbed your hand, turning you gentle around back to him. You didn’t look up to him and that was enough for him to realize it wasn’t an accident.
'Who did this?’
'Nobody, I kicked my head thats all.’ You reacted softly. He supported your chin, turning your head a little to the left so he could see the wound from closer by.
'Did your boss did this?’ He asked, more demanding.
'Hvitserk please, let it go.’
'No I won’t.’ He protested. You looked up to him and slowly shook your head.
'I forgot something after seeing you. He was mad, and,’ your words drifted away and Hvitserk stroke a strain of your hair after your ear. You closed your eyes enjoying the soft touth of his fingers.
'I will punish him.’
'Don’t, it was my own fault.’ You whispered, pulling yourself in his embrace a little further. He wrapped his arms around you, tightened his grip and you smiled comforted.
'How can I make you feel better?’
'You already do.’ You pulled back and looked up to him, that insecurity already showing up again.
'I would never harm you.’ He whispered, stroking your face again, letting you feeling appreciated.
'I still don’t understand why you doing this Hvitserk.’ You still looked to him, to the charming smile causing your cheeks to turn red.
'Because you are worth it.’ He answered, placing his lips against yours. Your fingers took softly more fabrics of his clothes into a fist. He cupped your face, bringing you even closer while he depth his kiss even more. You felt your cheek burn all kind of red colors, a heat pulling throught your body. When he pulled back his lips stroke your skin, caressed your neck while he took in your smell. You just stood there, tightening his clothes in your fist while you closed your eyes and took everything in that he did. His lips got on the egde of your dress, resting on your colorbone and his fingers slowly pulled it aside over your shouder. You felt a short shiver getting throught your body when you shoulder was naked for his touch.
'Hvitserk I,’ you began insecure by all of it. He pulled back, lifted your chin and your hands relaxed against his stomach.
'Do you trust me?’ He asked, looking intensly in your eyes. You want to look away but he held on to your chin so you hadn’t a change. So you nodded. 'I’m not gonna hurt you.’ He promised, picking you in that kind of kiss again, the insensity of it brought you closer to him, pushing up on your toes. Your one hand traveled up to his face while you other stayed flat on his chest. He started exploring your body, his fingers roamed your naked shoulder before he slowly started to work downwards over your dress. Without you knowing you started to do the same thing, your hand traveled over his chest and you frooze a little by your own actions. 'Go on.’ He ecouraged you with a whispering in your ear, his lips leaving that warmth again. You softly folded your fingers around the egdes of his shirt and he helped you by pulling it out over his head. Your eyes rested on his bare chest before you looked up again, shy. He smiled down on you tenderly and you pushed back up, asking for his lips again. When your hands came in contact with his skin you hessitated a moment. Not that he gave you much time, his fingers stroke your other shoulder, pushing the dress from it causing your dress to slip lower on your body. You pulled your one arm out and wrapped it around his neck. He pulled you against his body completly and walked you backwards to the bed. You opened your eyes and looked up to him, eyes telling you trusted him and a sencere smile comforted you right back. You fingers moved softly over his chest, rested against his chin before you kissed him again and he laid you on the bed you earlier laid on in your own loneliness. But it was different now, you felt different. Never had anybody touched you like Hvitserk did. His lips followed your skin while your finger strangled themself through his hair, his braids. Your body started to accept his touch, moving away the shy uncertainty you felt. Your eyes felt shut, your body arched a little when his lips reached the sensitive skin of your breasts. The heat building up in your body waited on some kind of a release but until that it kept giving you more to handle … or not. You moaned underneath him and you felt a smile gainst your heated skin. You imagined your first time in so many ways but not like this, not with him. He was so soft, tender, so slowly and patient with you that you couldn’t think on something else than adjusting yourself to him.

When you waked up your body felt soar a little but under the feeling of him snuggling his nose in your hair the feeling fadded and maked place for that happy feeling. You turned slowly around in his embrace and looked at him. 'How was your night?’ He asked you with that boyish grinn of accomplishment.
'Amazing, thanks for asking. Yours?’ You asked with a tiny dmile back.
'The best.’ He answered, placing a kiss on your lips. You smiled in it, terrible in love with all of this. 'I promised my brothers that I would train with them so I have to go.’ He went further, resting his lips on your shoulder. You stroke his braid over his shoulder and petted his chest.
'Go.’ You insisted, not wanting to get his brothers behind you because they were angry on you for keeping him here. You curled up in the bed and looked how he got up and got dressed, admiring the vieuw with slithly red cheeks.
'Tell me if he does that again.’ He pointed to your headwound.
'I will, I promise.’ You reassured him. He gave you a last look, something with concern, charm, a hint of love before he left, leaving you again in the loneliness, althrought that got filled up by the memories from last night. Not far after he was gone you maked ready to, not eager to get back to the smith. But you had no choise, you were a simple slavegirl. On the way their you past the great hall, you stopped before you got around the corner when you saw the four sons of Ragnar standing. You didn’t want Hvitserk to notice you and kiss you in public so you stayed around the corner, overhearing their conversation.
'Told you I could pull it off.’ You recognized his voice immidiatly, causing that smile to spread over your face again.
'I don’t understand, you kissed her on day one and you got her into bed on day six,’ Ivar pauzed a moment. 'I thought you said she was the shy type?’ He reacted his anger of against Sigurd.
'She was.’ Sigurd defensed himself but all you could do was repeat those words again in your head, they were talking about you.
'Admit it, I won.’
'You won the bet brother, I’m proud of you.’ Ubbe smacked Hvitserk on the shoulder and the both of them started laughing. A bet? This was all a game to him?
'No reason to stay around her now, maybe your brother find a better target to bet on.’ Sigurd reacted. A bet … you were just a bet in their boyish fantasies. You swallowed the tears away, felt how your body cracked open by all of what you just heared. He never gave about you, why would he, you were a slavegirl to begin with. You pushed away and walked over the little square before the great hall, right to the smith.
'Y/n!’ Hvitserk called after you. You ignored him and took a right into a little shed, sliding down against the wooden wall while you cried out all the love you felt last days. But it wasn’t love for him, this was just all a game.

5

Killian X Reader


Why you were looking for a job in the old bar in front of you was beyond you. It was tucked away, you wouldn’t have even seen the bar if you hadn’t stumbled your way towards the docks.

“Hello?” you called as you pushed inside and found it empty.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon, I thought you said I’d ruined Paris for you.” Killian chuckled as he came out from the back.

“What’re you doing here?” You glared at him as he shrugged, fixing up behind the bar as he waited for you to get irritated. “Killian!”

Keep reading

crispymotherwerewolf  asked:

Author's choice + yellow.

rubber duck | madzie | 500 words

Madzie lies at the bottom of the tub, gazing up at the bright yellow rubber duck floating above her. She’s too big to lay all the way down in the little tub, so her knees are hugged to her chest, feet propped up on the tiled wall. It’s still nice though. Everything always feels better underwater. It’s easier to breathe, as backwards as that would sound to most people.

But well. Most people don’t have gills.

She can hear Magnus pacing outside the door, obviously still upset. She feels badly, but it’s also partly why she’d come in here. This is the one place neither of them ever follow her, so she takes advantage of that, sometimes.

“Madzie, darling?” Magnus calls out softly.

Madzie closes her eyes. She hates how small his voice sounds. I did that, she thinks, her stomach dropping heavily with guilt.

She takes one last deep pull of water in through her gills, centering herself in the feeling, before slowly emerging from the tub. The ripples caused by her movement send the little rubber duck drifting away from her. He’s running away too, she thinks.

She hadn’t thought to grab her favorite bathrobe when she fled in here to hide, so she magics it in from her bedroom. She hasn’t quite mastered conjuring something directly onto her body, so instead it appears folded neatly on the counter and Madzie dons it quickly. The slightly too big hood (complete with floppy rabbit ears) falls down over her eyes. She hesitates for a moment before reaching into the tub to retrieve the duckling, tucking it into the pocket of her robe. It’s comforting.

She opens the door to find Magnus still standing outside, just as she suspects. With her bath hood drawn over her eyes, she can only really see him from the ankles down. She can’t really tell from his ankles whether he’s still upset with her, but she’s also too afraid to look up at his face.

“Have a good swim, guppy?” he asks her, just like he always does. She knows the familiar question is meant to make her feel better, but instead she feels worse.

“I’m sorry I messed up your potion,” she tells Magnus’s ankles, fiddling with the ties on her robe.

“Oh sweetheart,” Magnus says, crouching down to try to see her under her hood. “You didn’t ruin anything, okay? Potions are tricky things sometimes, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be fixed.”

She finally looks up at him then, and his steady gaze is gentle. Sincere.

“I’ll show you,” he tells her, reaching out a hand.

Madzie’s fingers rub idly along the smooth surface of the rubber duck in her pocket. Part of her longs to be back in the tub, submerged and safe.

But Magnus is still waiting, his hand outstretched patiently. She takes it, and the warmth of her small hand enclosed in his is instantly calming.

Maybe there’s safety on land too, as long as Magnus is there.

Two Is Better Than One

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Forester, Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Reader X Dean Forester

Words: 1869

Warnings: SMUUUUUTTTTTTT!!!!!!! Oral (both genders). Handjobs. Like, there is no plot. Just smut. NSFW Gif somewhere below the cut.

Author’s Note: This is season 1 Dean. I MUST CLARIFY, DEAN IS 18 IN THIS FIC!! NO ONE IS UNDER AGE!!!! I am aware that he was 17 in the actual season 1, but I am making him 18 in this fic for legal purposes. :)

Also, I had no idea how to set this situation up, sooooo… This is literally porn and nothing else.

I am also aware of how long this took, but hey! It got done!!! <3

“Relax,” I say against Dean’s lips. Despite being 18 and probably a virgin, Dean seems to know what he’s doing. His tongue skims over my lower lip, silently begging for entrance. The decision to play coy was the biggest thing in my mind until I feel Sam’s lips graze over my neck and spine. My lips part in a gasp, and due to that motion, Dean is able to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue moves against mine, and I can taste the mint on him. As his confidence grows, Dean threads his fingers through my Y/H/C locks as Sam’s lips roam to my neck.

Keep reading

Don’t Let Me Drown (Daehyun Siren AU)

Requested by: a quite creative anon (this request really is something)

Word count: 6.6 k+

Genre/warnings: Siren AU (In which Daehyun has the abilities of a siren - a voice that mesmerizes and hypnotizes people, causing them to self-destruct the second they hear it)

Summary: It was a lonely life for you, but a peaceful one, up until the day you left your seaside home to go for a walk and found yourself at the very top of a nearby cliff, mesmerized by the voice of a mysterious young man who was sitting out in the middle of the sea on some rocks. You hadn’t even been able to process anything yet, as the next thing you knew you were falling. It was a wonder that he was quick enough to catch you before you were able to drown, and a relief that you were just fine after the wall. As time went on, you developed strong feelings for each other, but he was hesitant with expressing them because of one simple reason - whoever had ties with him never ended well, and he didn’t want to hurt you. He was destruction itself, made to hurt everyone around him as well as himself, and that made him stay away, so he wouldn’t be able to hurt you.

(A/N) To be completely honest, I love this idea so much. The abilities of a siren have always been an interesting topic to me, and soft-worded destruction is my favorite thing to write. The prototype for this was Daehyun from Honeymoon, as I think he fits this scenario more than well, so my advice would be to picture him that way in this scenario. It’s a little unusual, but I still hope you like it!! 

Also, quick P.S. - I’m sure I heard somewhere that Daehyun is a weak swimmer, but let’s imagine that’s not a thing in this scenario, just to add to the aesthetic.

Another day you could spend at the shore is what you wished for every single morning you woke up from your nightmare-filled, fragile sleep. A day when the monsters from your dreams would finally leave you for good and allow you to get all of the work that had to be done out of the way so you could go for a walk in this place you loved the most. Yeah, there were tons of other different activities you could’ve incorporated into your life, maybe some of those activities would even require you to leave your seaside home and go back to the city for a bit, but you were having none of this. The city was packed with way too many people, and, even though you did get lonely here from having to spend your days alone on most occasions, it was still better than being surrounded by a bunch of unknown people in the busy streets of the nearby city, where your voice and ideas would be drowned out by cigarette smoke and taxi horns. 

It was a particularly beautiful autumn day, and you were done with the paperwork for the day. Sitting and looking out of the window, you suddenly had a strong urge to go outside. It was a day just like any other, yet something about it seemed a little different, but, since you couldn’t get your thoughts on what it was, you let it slide. Closing the windows and blinds, you made your way all across the tiny room, causing the old, wooden floor to creak with every single movement you made. Your boots were right there where you’d left them, and you put them on, taking your coat with one hand as the other one reached for the doorknob and turned it, opening the door to another universe.

Only a hundred meters parted you and the sea, but it wasn’t calling you like any other day. You craved something slightly different, and instead of going to the shore you wanted to head to the nearby cliff. Walking all the way up and through the trees, you couldn’t help but think your feet guided you themselves, leaving footprints behind than indicated your presence in this environment. Quite unconsciously, you still knew where to go.

It was a feeling in your gut, or rather in your heart, you were sure of it. The sun seemed to shine brighter, and you felt so much smaller than usual when you walked in between the trees. Leafs crunched under your feet, and you couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful the place was. The whole shore was a quite rocky one, with more than just a few cliffs along it’s line, and at moments like these you were glad you lived here. Not everyone had a cliff not too far away from their house, and you had to admit you felt slightly special.

It took you just a few more minutes, and you were on the very top and edge of the cliff, standing at a safe distance and looking far into the sea. You found the waves and the wind to be rather harsh today, and wondered if any of the local people who usually went sailing at this time of day did it today, because you couldn’t see and people or boats around. That is, until you spotted something unusual not too far away in the distance.

It was.. A boy, or rather a young man, or so you thought at least. He was calmly sitting on one of the larger rocks in the middle of the mess of strong wind and huge waves. For a second you wanted to call out in order to check if he was fine, and if he needed some help. You weren’t sure you could provide that help yourself, but it was just a few minute’s walk to one of your neighbor’s houses, and they had a sailing boat that could sail in these conditions. The possibilities of helping kept crossing your mind, and as you were about to scream out in order to catch his attention, you heard it.

It was echoing through your head and your chest, as melodic as it could possibly be. It fully caught your attention, and you were struggling with keeping your knees from giving out and your mind from going absent.

He was singing.

The song was an unknown one to you, but that didn’t quite matter, as it was sung in such a beautiful way and fashion it made you paralyzed. You’d never felt this way before, and didn’t know how you could possibly explain it, but you had to find a way to get to him.

A young man, out alone in the stormy sea, singing so loud you could hear it from the nearby cliff. It had to be a dream, right?

A dream.. Is this what it was? The sudden urge to step over the cliff, trying out how a free fall would feel like. Was that a dream as well?

“I can swim, I will easily do it.. ” you quietly whispered to yourself, feeling your feet starting to move into the direction of the cliff, and feeling your mind slowly drifting away further into the abyss. You moved quite unconsciously, letting yourself be lead by his voice, and stopped just a little when you were right at the edge, forgetting about everything around you completely.

You had wings, you were sure of it. And with those wings you would be able to dive in deep and swim towards him in no time. You had to somehow get to his voice, even though you didn’t know what you’d do once you got there. But you had to be there.

The scenery in front of you shifted, up until you weren’t quite aware of your surroundings anymore. His voice was a drug and you were an incurable addict. It was the wine and bread you needed for your survival, and the only thing you desired. You had to go and find out what was so incredibly special about it. It wasn’t only a stupid desire - it was a mission.
  
He spotted you, standing at the edge of the cliff, about to jump down. Surprise and worry immediately crossed his face as his eyes grew wide with worry. He knew what followed in most, if not all of the cases he saw girls like you standing at the edge of the cliff. He didn’t have to see the look in your eyes to know it displayed nothing but complete absence of your mind. He knew you were dazed and far from being capable of thinking straight, and that scared him. He didn’t want this to end like it usually did. He didn’t want to cause any harm, not to you and not to any of the previous people. He was nowhere near evil, and his heart hurt just a little bit more than always when this happened, because you were someone he never wanted to hurt. Ever.

So he got silent.

It was a moment in time, how your eyes suddenly widened and grew wide with fear. The way realization hit you made you look so beautifully vulnerable. You were conscious and aware of everything again, but even the sudden fear and attempts to stumble backwards weren’t enough to keep the ground underneath your feet, as you yelped and felt gravity pull your body down over the cliff.

You fell.

“No, not again!” He shrieked, and was in the water within seconds. You heard him crying out, and were surprised by how his singing voice differed from his talking voice. If you would’ve had enough time, you would’ve cursed to yourself, because even during the free fall, he was all you could think of.

He saw how your body came in contact with the water, crashing through the surface and sinking deep down within seconds. He prayed he’d make it on time, and he stopped shaking and cursing to himself every other second only when his arms wrapped around your body, pulling it back to the surface. 

It was a wonder, but he’d actually managed to get a hold of you.

With your coat heavy and soaked wet and your hair dripping water, he tried to get you to the shore as soon as possible. After all, he didn’t quite care about the cold, because he couldn’t quite feel in on his skin. But he knew you could, and his assumptions got confirmed when your lips started turning a light shade of purple, indicating you needed to be warmed up immediately.

“What… What happened?” you asked as he was carrying you out of the water, still being knee-deep in it.

“You fell from a cliff, and I managed to get a hold of you before you could drown,” he calmly said, walking as if nothing had happened but deep down being glad you were conscious and breathing properly.

“Are you alright?” he threw you a curious look as you coughed up a bit of water, still shocked and scared of what had just happened.

“Y-yeah.. I mean, I guess so.. I’m just c-cold,” you managed to get out before a wave of coldness traveled all the way down your spine, causing you to shiver.

His eyes displayed worry, and as he stepped out into the shore with your shivering frame stiff in his arms, being carried bridal-style, he thought of what to do next.

“I’ve seen you many times. You live here nearby, right?” he asked quietly, making a thousand questions arise in your head. You’d never seen him, even though you knew everyone who live nearby, but he’d seen you a lot, apparently. You managed to nod before another wave of violent shivers hit your back. It was so, so cold outside, at least compared to the weather from a few days ago, and you were soaking wet in freezing water.

“Let me bring you home, in that case,” he said, starting to walk off into the right direction.

“N-no.. You don’t h-have to. I can w-walk on my own,” you stirred in his embrace, only to be held a little tighter.

“It’s my fault so I want to fix it up,” he quietly said, and you tried to recall the events from earlier.

His fault? You couldn’t recall him being the one to blame. You were standing on the cliff, and then suddenly.. Something happened. You couldn’t get your mind to remember, but you knew it was something you’d never felt before. Something unusual, and something that made you step a little too close to the edge of the cliff and fall down.

You were too shocked and tired to remember what had happened.

You focused on trying to stay calm and collected, and felt yourself burying your face into his chest. You didn’t know if it was appropriate, but he was so warm, despite wearing clothing that didn’t quite match the season, and his embrace was so tight and comfortable, ensuring you that the worst had already happened and it would only get better from now on. He, despite being a stranger, was someone who you wanted to stay with, not knowing anything about him at all, but wanting to find out more with every step he took into the direction of your house. For example, how comes he knew exactly where to head to and how comes he was in the right place on the right time, managing to pick your drowning frame up and lift it back to the surface in the middle of the not-so-calm sea just in time?

You had so many questions, but you knew that the priority of that moment was to focus on trying to battle the unbearable cold that had made it’s way through your skin and was nagging away at your bones, so you stayed silent. You’d question later, and for now you’d trust the fact that everything would eventually be alright.

At least you felt like it would be, because he was carrying you. The beautiful stranger you knew nothing about who had saved you just minutes ago.

Water dripped all over the floor as he walked into your house. Upon looking around for a while and eventually getting instructions from you where things and rooms were located, he managed to carry you into the bathroom, seating you on the edge of the bath and leaving you to undress and get into the bath in order to warm up. You’d noticed the lack of exchangeable clothing in your bathroom, and told him where he could find some of the warmest of your clothes and asked him to bring them to you, as you didn’t want to drip water all over the house. He obeyed silently, bringing you all of the desired things and shutting the door behind him, leaving you to be alone again.

You soaked your body in warm water, and tried to recall all of the events. The more time passed, the more you were convinced he in fact was to blame, because you could finally remember some details. He was out in the sea, sitting on some rocks, and you were about to call him and ask him if everything was fine, because he looked strange, sitting there alone, with no one else around him, and staring off into the distance. But he wasn’t just sitting there, ther was something else he was very invested in and entitled to, and you almost choked when you remembered.

How could you forget? He was singing, with a voice that could only be classified as an angel’s, if not even better than that. It was melodic, and seemed to flow in the wind, painting it in different colors as it passed by. It stayed in the air longer than a normal voice would, and faded away immediately after a few seconds of lingering, leaving your heart to wrench at it’s absence and leaving your soul to crave more. The heartwarming lower notes he took and the astonishing high notes he could reach, you could finally recall it all. 

He wasn’t a regular human being, was he? He couldn’t possibly be.

You hesitantly went out of the bathroom, with your hair freshly dried and tangled up in a bun, and your hands drowned in the huge sleeves of the big, warm sweater you were wearing. You could still feel the aftermath of the fall into the water, as, even thought your body temperature was more or less back to normal, you still shivered every now and then, shaking lightly underneath the oversized clothes. The floor creaked as it always did when you made your way back to the bedroom, praying he was either there or somewhere else in the house. Praying he hadn’t left without even properly introducing himself.

To your luck, he was there. Sitting at the edge of your bed and fiddling around your journal. A little yelp escaped your mouth as you saw your most valued possession in his delicate hands, his long fingers flipping through the pages that were coated with you tiny, neat handwriting. He noticed, turning his head around and facing you, and you cursed to yourself. Yes, you were a little embarrassed, as that journal contained your notes, poetry and thoughts as a whole, and you weren’t sure if you felt comfortable with sharing those with anyone in this world, really. But the sincere look he had on his face, and the fact he was such a mystery that couldn’t be left to go away on it’s own without explanations, it all made you swallow the building knot in your throat and try to look normal.

“I’m just.. I saw this, and had nothing to do, so I decided to flip through it. I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have.. ” he said, starting to close the journal.

“No, no.. It’s fine,” you assured, and were glad when you saw his hand stop moving and open the journal up again, “It’s fine if you won’t judge me too hard on the things written in there.. ”

You felt your cheeks heating up when you saw him turning his head back to the notebook and continuing to read silently and calmly. It was so weird, yet you liked it. He didn’t really feel the need to explain anything or talk, he just continued reading as if you were still absent in the room.

It took you a moment to realize you couldn’t just keep awkwardly standing around in the doorway, so, since you felt like you still needed some more courage in order to start up conversation, you quietly slid out of the room, making your way into the kitchen and putting on the kettle.

You went back into the bedroom, just to see him still sitting there with the notebook, having read most of it already. You stepped a little closer, and he seemed to notice, turning his full attention to you and flashing a soft, gorgeous smile as you stood in front of him.

Soaked clothes was the first thing you saw. Of course they would be, he’d jumped into the water to save you, after all.

“You’re clothes are dripping wet.. I’m so sorry, I totally forgot. Wait, I’ll see if I have anything to give you so you could change.. ”

You felt his curious stare piercing right through your back as you inspected some clothes in a nearby commode, putting the mugs on top of it first. He didn’t complain or anything, and even less than that he showed any signs of freezing or feeling uncomfortable. You lifted up a few clothes, trying to find an old pair of sweatpants you still owned. You, despite being more of a loner than a social person, have had a fair amount of relationships in the past, and some of the guys who you’ve had ties with left a piece of clothing or two behind. You weren’t even sure why you still kept it, but were a little glad, as those sweatpants were finally of good use.

You turned around to him, looking right into his eyes. His frame was so much smaller that the one of the previous owner of the sweatpants, and he definitely didn’t deserve to wear the clothes of one of your exes. He was way above that level, but, since this was all you had, it had to do for now.

“Here.. Let me find a shirt as well. That’s in another room thought, I’ll be right back..”

When you came back, he’d changed his pants already, and was working to get his shirt unbuttoned. You sat down on the bed beside him, and handed him a gray t-shirt as he handed you his shirt. You watched him pulling the t-shirt over his head, and as his head popped out of it, you felt your cheeks turning a light shade of red, as his face was a little closer than previously after that move. A bit too close.

“I-I tried to find a sweater or something, but I only had a few t-shirts, sorry-”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine,” he said, smiling softly at you and draining all of your worries and fears away immediately, “Thank you very much.”

You took his wet clothes to hang them up and let them dry, and when you came back he was sitting in the middle of your bed, holding the two mugs of tea in both his hands and patiently waiting for you to join him.

You popped down on the bed next to him, and he handed you the mug. You wanted to speak up - to thank him for everything, and to maybe question him as well, but his sudden movements caught you off guard. You jumped a little in surprise when he threw a blanket on top of you, wrapping his arms around you just a second after and letting them loosely hang all around your waist as he pulled you into his lap.

What on earth was happening?

“Is this alright?” he asked softly, his voice sounding pleasant but a little too close to your ear for you to keep thinking straight, “If you feel uncomfortable, just tell me-”

“No, you can stay like this, it’s alright..” you said, knowing it was utter madness but still wanting to be wrapped up in his arms. It’s been too long since you’d last had someone holding you like this, and for a second you caught yourself imagining this as an actual thing - you and him. Cuddled up on the bed in late evenings and early mornings. You didn’t even know his name, but it was fine, you’d eventually find out, right? His touch was so pleasantly warm, and the way he pinned his head against yours just felt so.. Welcoming and comfortable. He felt like home, and you couldn’t resist.

“It’s just that you’re still cold, and I figured this might help. But if it bothers you, just tell me. It’s been a while since I last got to communicate with somebody, and I simply can’t recall what’s appropriate and what’s not anymore..”

“It’s not like you’re the only one who’s like this,” you smiled and reassured him, taking a sip of your tea, “It’s been a while since I last got to meet someone new as well, so forgive me if I act a little unusual, I’m just kind of awkward and anxious, I guess.”

He chuckled a little, and you found his laughter to be adorable. It was ringing deeply through his whole chest, and coming out of his mouth in such a melodic fashion that you hoped it would get caught somewhere in the air, giving you the opportunity to snatch it and keep it in your pocket, carrying it around with you forever.

“I doubt you had been lonely for as long as I have..” he chuckled a little, with a tint of sadness flowing through his words, “But reality’s been a little harsh on me. I’m just waiting for clear skies to come, so I can live life in a less melancholy atmosphere..”

Silence followed, and you closed your eyes a little, feeling the urge to completely lean back on him. He chuckled a little as he felt you shifting, trying to sit up straight instead if falling back, and he spared you the awkward tries to lie back on him unnoticed. His arms wrapped tighter around you, and he pulled you back, indicating that what you desired to do was more than fine.

“I never caught your name..” you told him, trying to wrap your mind around today’s events.

“Daehyun,” he simply said, “But you can really call me whatever. I feel like that name has been overused a lot over the time..”

“(Y/N),” you simply said, but you were sure he knew already. He, apparently, knew many things you could never guess that he knew, and, while he was a mystery, you were glad he spared you the long introductions. You were never good at them.

“If we’re already seated here comfortably and unwilling to move, how about you tell me something else about yourself as well? I’d like to know more than just your name,” you tilted your head a little, trying to take a look at him but failing.

“It’s not like there’s much interesting to tell, but if you insist,” he said, starting up a conversation with you soon enough where you exchanged more or less useless or important information so he wouldn’t have to tell a painfully awkward monologue about his past and present on his own instead.

It was a pleasant afternoon, and soon enough you even felt yourself stop shaking every now and then, your body warming into his completely. He talked in a calming voice, and you loved it when he laughed. The way his chest rose up and down as beautifully cute noises escaped his mouth and the way your body moved with his when he laughed, all of it left you feeling calm and relaxed.

It was such a weird one-time thing. You felt so comfortable with him, talking about everything and nothing. You silently hoped he would stay for as long as possible, and he chuckled to himself when he saw you throwing sneaky glances at the clock, hoping to see you both still had time to talk and he didn’t have to leave.

He didn’t want to leave. He’d watched you walking along the shore countless times, and he’d always wanted to talk to you. He knew where you lived, and knew the time of day you would go out for a walk. He thought it was cute - the way you sometimes sat in the sand, staring off into the distance and talking to yourself about everything that troubled you, letting all of your thoughts and worries get lost in the wind. He thought the words you sometimes left scrabbled in the sand were beautiful, and he often found himself wondering if you’d like him the way he liked you, that is, if you ever actually met him. 

He’d tried to meet you, but every time he wanted to he remembered who he was. A walking disaster who could send people off to die within seconds if he ever opened his mouth. He was cursed with the ability to mesmerize people by his singing voice, and he constantly unwillingly hurt people by not being able to resist the urge to sing a few songs, sending everyone around him off to self-destruct.

Every time he looked at you, he remembered the few times he had made ties with more or less important girls in the past, searching for the peace and solitude only a lover could offer. But it never seemed to end well, as sooner or later they would hear him, and sooner or later they would drown, jumping off from cliffs or walking straight into the water where they’d try to reach him, walking in too far and unconsciously making their head an anchor that brought them down in the process. 

He never wanted to hurt anyone, and, as he tried to save them with tear-strained cheeks and a trembling heart, he was never successful. Their hands always slid out of his, and he could never reach their bodies on time. They all went underwater, and made him break more and more until he figured it was enough.

A particular girl made him the way he was now, rather silent and unapproachable, as well as a loner by heart. She’d fallen off a cliff, just like you, and he’d managed to get a hold of her and carry her back out into the shore. But it was winter, and her frame was already skinny and fragile as it was. She clung onto him, with tear-strained cheeks and trembling lips, softly whispering about how cold she was. He told her everything would be fine, but didn’t believe it himself, as he had to carry her a long way and with every passing minute she only shook more, to the point she wasn’t able to tie two words together and could only bury her face deep into his chest, staying as still as possible in order not to feel the cold so much.

He’d made it through various obstacles in the way. He’d gotten her back home, but it was too late. He laid her down onto the bed, starting to undress her from the cold and soggy clothing, whispering how everything would be fine and how she would be alright in no time, but she only looked at him, raising a hand to his cheek and stroking it. Telling him she was too cold to feel anything. Telling him she wanted to sleep and would be right back after a few hours, ready to go for the walk they originally wanted to meet up for.

Telling him how beautiful his voice was, and how she wanted to hear more once she woke up. 

Needless to say she never did.

That night, he promised himself to go far away. He promised to not tie his life together with anyone else’s, and he promised to put and end to himself if he ever hurt anyone. The funniest part was that he didn’t love her. He liked her, but his feeling weren’t strong enough to be considered love yet, and he never found out if it would’ve evolved into something bigger. 

It was rather the fact that she died in his arms that made him stay away from everyone, and try to cope and find solitude in his own loneliness.

He always felt his lungs burning after days of not singing, and his head spinning. He had to do it in order to survive and think straight, but he refused to do it as freely as he used to. He hid far away, where he knew there wouldn’t be any people around, and he tried hard to not be heard by anybody. And the plan even seemed to go in his favor.

Until you fell off that cliff.

He felt like he was re-living his past again, but at the same time he felt like this meeting of yours was God’s gift to him, and an apology for the many lonely and emotionally painful years when he’d walked the world alone, hiding from everybody. You fell, but he caught you. You shivered, but he warmed you up. You were fragile just like her, but he brought you back in time.

And you were alive as he held you, leaning against him and sipping on tea, telling him about your anxieties and the poetry you wrote, as well as how you didn’t know how to talk to people and how you spent most of your days here, alone.

He couldn’t help but bury his face in your hair, as little and unnoticeable as possible. You were a sign, someone who had withstood his disastrous nature, and someone who was by him, being the living proof that maybe things could go differently in the future. He swore not to talk to anyone, not to hurt anyone. Not to let anyone hear him or near him. But it had happened against his will, and he was considering breaking a promise.

You were so beautiful, and he didn’t want to let go. He’d seen you many times, and your arms looked like they could offer him a warm and safe spot to stay in when he needed it the most. He wanted to know your deepest thoughts, and he wanted to be a part of your world.

He wanted to believe he wasn’t destruction itself, and he wanted to be selfish and make you a part of his life. He wanted to believe the fact he could try to love without causing death or pain of any kind.

He just had to be careful.

It was the start of a fairy tale, or so you thought at least. He would appear out of nowhere, calling you happily and waving with his hands, catching you in a loving embrace every time you approached. The afternoons never seemed long enough when you spent them with him, and the more you learned about him, the more you fell in love with him.

He never told you about who he really was, or what kind of things he was capable of, but you had a feeling deep inside your gut that he wasn’t the average, normal person he wanted to come off as. You clearly remembered how you heard him singing, the only thing that differed in your perception from reality being the reason of your free fall from the cliff. You thought you simply hadn’t been careful enough, but he knew the truth.

It was the thing that kept him from all of the things he wanted to do. It’s why he always held you, but never held you long enough. It’s why he had the courage to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear when you were sitting on the terrace steps, staring off into the distance and laughing the night away, but he never had the courage to leave his hand to rest there, on the side of your face, pulling you closer to him and kissing you passionately. The more he got to know you, the more he was sure this wasn’t just a regular crush. He knew these feelings were different to everything he’d previously experienced, and it drove him to the edge. He couldn’t let this chemistry he had with you slip, but he couldn’t let himself do harm to you as well.

He was a frequent guest in your home, and on one of your afternoon meetings he found a guitar lying around in the corner of your living room. You admitted that you used to play, and even managed to sing and play him a few simple songs. You saw the way he moved his mouth, mouthing the lyrics and wanting to sing along as well, and that only brought back curiosity alongside with memories. You figured this was your chance to find out what’s been bothering you long enough, so, when you finished another short song, you looked up to him, speaking up. 

“Why don’t you sing along? And don’t lie about not knowing the lyrics, you clearly do..”

You saw his body getting tense the second those words left your mouth, and the moment he spoke up, his voice suddenly sounded scared and broken.

“I don’t have a nice singing voice, so I’d rather listen to yours instead-”

“Don’t lie, I heard you. Back then, when I managed to fall off the cliff and was fortunate enough to have you around to save me. I got too mesmerized by your voice, and didn’t even notice how I was-”

“I thought you didn’t remember..” he spoke, blank surprise and disbelief written all over his face. You tried to question him, and tried to understand his reasoning behind looking so hopelessly broken and surprised, but he only told you to not question him, and meet him at a nearby lighthouse in the evening instead.

“Dae, is everything fine?” he heard you say in a worried voice, and sighed. He didn’t want to cause any worries.

“Currently, yes. Just meet me, I guess have a lot of explaining to do..”

He found himself trembling when he was sitting at the very top of the lighthouse and waiting for you to arrive, his feet dangling down in between the railings. He saw you approaching, and wanted to run. But he knew this couldn’t last forever. You’d met in early autumn, and it was mid-spring already now. It’s been quite some time, and he felt like you deserved to know the truth.

He told you everything, and you sat there, listening blankly. He knew you’d think of it as a joke at first, but he looked so serious you actually considered believing him for a second. It took him to start singing when you finally felt the familiar effect, and he held you tightly in place while doing so, not wanting anything bad to happen to you. As realization hit you and you slowly started to consider and even accept the fact that some legends and tales could actually turn out to be real, he couldn’t help but continue talking, searching for anything at all in your blank stare.

He told you about his past, this time telling you absolutely everything. He told you about the pain of causing harm without wanting to do it, and he wasn’t afraid to tell you how any of the girls he had ever had romantic ties with ended up. He told you how he’d watched you from afar at some point, wishing to get to know you, but how he always resisted because of who he was. He told you how he carried his last so-called lover back home after she’d faced the same situation as you, and he told you how afraid he was you’d be in the same spot as her - lying in bed with a body that was paralyzed by the cold, not being able to tie a few words together and having to eventually face death, all because of him.

He told you how glad he was you were just fine after the fall, and he told you how he didn’t mean to cause any of that. His voice cracked and his eyes, despite not getting teary, looked far into the distance, displaying all of the emotional weight he was carrying on his shoulders. He begged you to not be mad at him for lying about so many things in the past, and he asked for forgiveness, for causing something that could’ve ended fatal if he wouldn’t have been fast enough. Silence hung over the two of you for a while, and he was genuinely worried you wouldn’t understand.

“I love you, (Y/N), at this point I’m pretty certain about it. But I want you to keep living a safe life, and I am not sure if you’ll be able to do that by my side. It wouldn’t take much, just some of my inattention and a faithful moment, and you could be hurt. Hurt by me, even thought I wouldn’t mean it. Everyone so far has gotten hurt, and don’t think I haven’t tried to prevent it from happening. I tried, and every time something went wrong. My throat itches and my chest burns, and I have to sing it out. And they always heard me, and they always self-destructed. And I’ve never been quick enough to reach them on time and save them-”

“You love me?” is all he heard in response, and he turned his head, facing you. The knot in his chest was still there, but he nodded slowly, wanting you to know. After all, he promised to be completely honest, so you had to know.

“And what it we try and see?” he heard you ask, and stopped breathing for a second.

“(Y/N), I don’t want you to end up falling again-”

“What if I told you I loved you too?”

The desire was real, in his eyes and yours too. You’d just heard this story of his that was painfully melancholic and sad, and, despite everything, you couldn’t feel anything but sympathy towards him. Left alone because of this ability he called a “curse”, keeping away from everyone and everything up until you got into his way. He was so good at heart, and didn’t deserve any of this. All the things seemingly caused by him were rather caused by his ability, and despite the possible, or rather definite, danger you’d be in, you wanted him to stay.

Stay, with you, so he wouldn’t be lonely. And you wouldn’t be lonely either.

Completely caught in the moment, it wasn’t of matter who leaned in first. Fact is, just seconds after you’d let that sentence slip, your lips were locked together, showing exactly how much you needed each other at that moment. He unwillingly asked you to stop in between kisses, but you’d found a place you could actually call home, and refused to leave. He eventually gave into his feelings, responding to every single one of your body’s movements with his own, surprised by how well your bodies clipped together. It was the moment he’d promised he would never get to, and the moment he craved to live through so, so much.

He couldn’t leave, he was too selfish. He wanted you, and he’d do everything to keep it the way it was right there at that moment.

“I can’t promise this will end well, but I’ll do everything to keep you happy and safe. I adore you, with all of my heart, and want to be by your side,” he whispered softly, letting his truest feelings come to light with his words.

“If I’ll fall, you’ll catch me again,” you told him, smiling lightly, “I’m certain of it. And I trust you completely, with my whole heart.”

He spent the night, having you wrapped up in his arms for the whole time. The way he held you indicated how much he’d wanted to do it, and it also showed how long he was trying to resist. It took quite some late evening talks and a lot of loving touches, hugs and kisses to make him understand you were alright with the situation, and when he finally gave in and relaxed a bit, you laid right next to him, softly stroking his hair and looking him right in the eyes.

You’d been right all along - he was nowhere near ordinary. But that didn’t make him a monster or a cause of destruction, as it rather made him an unfortunate being, someone who had to be looked out for, but most of all, taken care of. And as he laid there, his eyelids half closed and his big, soft lips slightly puckered, his frame sinking into the bed as he was about to fall asleep, you couldn’t help but smile.

He was just a lost boy, and you were determined to guide him back home.

Battle against time -Wonwoo scenario

Wonwoo: Angst/ Fluff

Word count: 619

6, you’ve been his girlfriend for nearly 6 years…  since the innocent and carefree times in high school, where you both would spend as much time as possible with each other. Whether it’s studying or playing around, he almost always remained within your vision.

But everything changed after his debut with the other seventeen members. He’s busy as hell with all kinds of promotions. It’s not his fault not having time with you though, that’s his job and despite that, he still tried his best to stay in contact with you.

As you know, he’s not the kind of guy who showers you with affection, with his cool character being more dominant. Therefore, you never actually received any kind of verbal and physical affection.

As Wonwoo gets busier and more popular, your connection with him decreases. You weren’t really sure if you are still his girlfriend anymore. His texts became more blunt and meaningless, as if he’s trying to end your conversation as soon as possible. Is he too tired or something? Never mind…

he never called.

As he gets more popular, seventeen attend more parties at night clubs. Sometimes, people even caught Wonwoo having fun with other female idols, and all sorts of negative scandals surfaced. On the other hand, you always took ‘he’s just relieving stress’ as a longtime excuse.

As time goes on, you start to question whether you are his genuine girlfriend, or just a normal friend with you thinking too much 6 years ago.

Of course, Wonwoo didn’t explain any of the scandals to you and you barely texted him. You remained in the confused state for a month. Until one day, one of your longtime male friends confessed to you, even though he do know that you and Wonwoo are a couple.

“Hey Y/N, I know that you’ve been with Wonwoo for a long time. And I am aware that I am not supposed to separate the two of you, but the thing is, I don’t feel like you’re happy with him. Why not give me a chance when I can promise that I will make you happy?” You were startled by his unexpected confession, not knowing what to say…

This continued for about 2 weeks, and for some reason, Wonwoo found out.

( i had to crop the bottom away cuz the layout wasn’t making sense ╮( ̄▽ ̄"“)╭)

Then he called you immediately and asked to meet up somewhere near his company.

“Gosh, he must be breaking up with me this time. ” You thought to yourself on your way to the café;;.

“Y/N… are you seriously going to break up with me?”

“I never wanted to, but it seems like that’s what you want?”

“what? no!”

“but you seemed happier with the other girls at the pubs you’ve been to…”

“that’s what I have to do for the media. I can’t bring you out to the public, you will be hurt. I know I’m not the best boyfriend and I seriously don’t know how to give you the affection you long for. But I really want to stay and protect you for the rest of my life.”

“okay.. but someday people will find out. I understand your worries, but I feel very insecure right now and I know I’m asking for too much. But I’m starting to lose my marbles…”

Wonwoo’s eyes drifted away from you. He suddenly stood up, and kneeled on the floor.

He slowly took out a small box. Opened it, with a ring with a gigantic diamond.

“I’ve prepared this for a few months already but never had the courage to propose to you. I hope this could make you feel more secure. I love you so much, please don’t leave me. How can I be one when half of me is gone?”


————-

I made this slightly angsty idk if you guys like it ~~~~ and also i hope you like the fake texts i randomly added in :-)

heres a super low quality pic of wonwoo i took today at their concert!

The Doughnut Shop

Austin was used to getting the odd glance from people but this guy was really starting to annoy him. It was one of his days off and he wanted to enjoy it. Normally he’d have some kind of work as a bouncer or security guard. It was pretty much the only thing he kept him going. He was a big dude and knew how to throw his weight around. Most everyone knew to stay out of his way. But this dude just kept staring at him looking down at his phone and then start staring at him again.

“You got uh problem?” his voice was harsh and gravely. The guy practically threw his phone in the air out of fear.

“N-n-no,” the word finally formed in his mouth. “No problem here. Sir.”

“Good,” Austin huffed. He didn’t feel like dealing with stalkers right now. All he wanted to do was enjoy his doughnut in piece. He rarely got to enjoy his cheat days. He took another bite. The guy kept doing the same thing. “You got sumthin to say?”

“Uhhh…” he was practically out of breath trying to form that. “Do you recognize me?”

“Do I reckonize you?” Austin tried to figure it out. “No. Shood I?”

“Uhhh… No… I was just uhhhh checking. It’s just you uhhhh look kind of familiar and I uhhh just wanted to make sure.”

“You know a lot of guys my size?” Austin scoffed.

“No… It’s just that uhh I thought that I met you before,” he pulled out his phone. “Do you know him?”

There was a picture of some guy in a suit on his phone. He had his black hair stylized and thick rimmed glasses. Nothing looked out of place on him. Everything about him looked rich, fancy, and self-entitled. He probably went through life with a silver spoon in his mouth while someone like Austin had to work his ass off for people like that to get through the week. “Looks like a real cock sucker. But no. Never seen ‘im.”

“It worked…” the guy said under his breath. He stared at the phone again, almost in disbelief. “He is. Or was… I’m not really sure how this works…” There was another long pause.

Austin finally interrupted the silence, “Got anything else you wanna say?”

“Uhhh… Yeah… One uhhh second,” he started typing furiously onto his phone.

“You know it’s rude to be on your phone when you’re talking to someone.” Austin said it gruffly. He realized it came out a little harsher than he wanted it to. “Little buddy,” he added.

“I know. I’m uhhh sorry. It’s just I needed to uhhh check on something first.” He smiled vacantly towards Austin. His face was starting to flush red, “Can I uhhh… Can I uhhh touch your uhh arm?”

“What?” it almost sounded like a statement as it came out of Austin’s mouth. The guy practically panicked. He threw his hands in front of his face clearly expecting to be hit. Austin felt bad for scaring the little guy. He probably didn’t mean anything by it. There wasn’t any reason to get mad. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound so harsh. I just don’t have many people ask me that so bluntly.”

“Sorry! I just got over excited. I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I know it’s weird but those biceps are just so big and I wanted to touch them. Sorry for asking!”

“Aww c’mon buddy. Don’t be like that,” Austin felt bad for scaring him. The bodybuilder wasn’t known for giving people nicknames but this guy looked at him like a little bunny rabbit. It just felt right. ‘It wouldn’t be that bad right?’ he thought. “If you want to feel it it’s not that big of a deal.” He tightened his bicep. The guy’s eyes lit up brightly. Austin smiled at how excited the guy got. People always gave him more weary looks cause of his size. ‘Can’t trust someone that big and stupid,’ they’d tell him. It made him feel worse because of how wrong it was. Despite that he ended up just spending more time in the gym. Feeling big felt way better than the insults those people would throw at him. Because whenever someone would look at him like this guy did, he’d know exactly why he wanted to be so big.

“Can I!?” Austin nodded and the guy leaned forward. He still approached slowly.

“C’mon feel it,” he flexed it again making the thick ball jump. The guy jumped slightly but finally grabbed the thick muscle. He tried squeezing it and moaned softly. ‘This is probably the best day of his life,’ Austin hid his smile. He didn’t want to seem too excited. He still wanted to keep up the tough guy act while this guy praised him unconditionally. The guy couldn’t get over how strong he was.

Then he leaned forward for a kiss. The guy looked so confused and then mind drifted slowly away. Austin almost thought he fainted. But then he started to moan loudly. He wasn’t very good but Austin was going to be more than happy to help him practice.

“Tastes like chocolate,” the guy smiled.

Austin couldn’t hide his smile anymore. This guy was way too cute. “Yeah,” it was the first times he couldn’t maintain eye contact. “Anyway… I’ve got the rest of the day off. Would you like to go somewhere else? Maybe get to know each other a little better?”

“Yeah,” the guy said. “That’d be great!”

The two got up and started walking away from the doughnut shop. He wanted to hold hands but Austin put his whole arm around the guy. He fit snuggly underneath his arm. As they were walking Austin realized something, “So who was that in the picture? You don’t need a hit put on him right?” he joked.

“Oh God no,” the guy laughed. “That was my boss. But you don’t need to worry about that. He’s not going to be a problem for me anymore.”

Close Every Door, Epilogue

Characters – Dean x Reader, Sam, Cas, Crowley

Summary – TFW tries to find answers after the reader is kidnapped; what they uncover will surprise them.

Word Count – 4,130

Warnings – Aftermath of Kidnapping, Torture, talk about PTSD and different kinds of therapy used to treat it

A/N – So, yeah, the “epilogue” kind of got away from me (shocker, I know).  But we’ll call it an epilogue anyway!  Thank you all so much for your support and feedback on this series!  It makes me so happy to get your comments!  As always, feedback is appreciated and encouraged! Please let me know what you thought!

Catch up: Close Every Door Masterlist

Originally posted by out-in-the-open

Your name: submit What is this?


“It is over, baby.” Dean agreed.  “And I’m going to be here for you – we all are – just as long as it takes.  And you take as long as you need, sweetheart.”


Dean had been thrilled when you’d hugged him just before telling off Vapula for what he’d done. While you had turned a major corner, there was still a long way to go.  The first night back, once Vapula was dead and his ashes buried, Dean helped you change into fresh pajamas and tucked you into bed – the bed you normally shared with him.  He noticed you tense when he climbed in next to you and paused. 

Keep reading

To The Four of Us (Part Three)

Hey y’all it’s ya girl back with part three of my lil modern Hamilton college AU! I seem to have accumulated some readers which is pretty lit and hey if you wouldn’t mind reblogging so others can share in the jOY OF MY WRITING (haha just kidding) that would be awesome!! 

Part one can be found here

Part two can be found here

I’ll probably make a masterpost later today so all the parts can be found together but we’ll see how that goes.

Let me know what you think of the text conversations bc I’m not sure how to format them (transcribing texts is so awkward yoU GUYS????)

And, as always, PLEASE let me know what you think!!! I can tag you when I update if you like, just shoot me a message so i know!!

words: 1,692

soundtrack song: Nine in the Afternoon - Panic! At the Disco

full soundtrack: x

Keep reading

The lucky one

Baz’s POV. Me trying something just a little bit different to what I’ve written so far.

Sometimes when it’s late at night and I’m on the couch or I’m in your room and only one light is on in the house, everything is quiet and you must think I’m dozing off but I hear you whispering in the next room. ‘Open sesame,’ you’ll whisper, barely a breath, and I imagine you standing in front of a cupboard in the darkness, your gaze despairing, already beating yourself up in your mind for being stupid enough to try. You’ll be getting a midnight snack from the fridge and I’ll hear you mutter heating words to a plate of leftovers from dinner. Then a moment of silence and your heavy footsteps followed by the beeping of the microwave. And I’ll roll over on your bed and try to block out the hurt, the feeling like something is breaking inside me, and I resist the urge to go out and comfort you because I know it won’t help. I know this is something you need to bear alone in the dark, because you can’t stop trying, because you can’t stop wanting it to come back. I know you said it was well worth the sacrifice, for me, for our life together and for the whole World of Mages but that will never be enough to fill you up like magic once did. You’ve become the humdrum; you feel like now you’re carrying all of the void, just a body of nothing.

You’re not nothing, Simon. You are the beginning and the end of everything. You are the brightest spark in this endless universe, that nothing could ever put out, no matter what you say.

So I lie there in the darkness and listen to you moving around the kitchen, finishing your snack, and then silence (I don’t know if you watch TV or you just sit on the floor lost in thought; I do know you never wash your dishes) and then finally I feel your warmth as you climb into the bed next to me and you hold me as close as you can and only then do we both feel peace. And in the morning we’re tangled together and your hair is a mess and I’m watching you with a lazy smile and when your blue eyes stare into mine I can let myself believe that you’re okay – that everything was worth it. Just for us to wake up together like this.

***

One afternoon I walk up to your door and even as I approach I have a foreboding feeling that something is different. I knock, and I wait, and I wait some more and when you still don’t answer I am overcome with an irrational fear (is it irrational? Crowley, please let it be irrational) that something is very wrong. In a panic I magic open the door just in time to find you walk around the corner towards me. There’s a bewildered, almost vacant look in your eyes like you’re in shock and then you see me and your gaze slowly drifts from the wand in my hand to the panic on my face and you snap out of your daze.

‘Sorry! Sorry. I didn’t hear you.’

I shove my wand into my pocket and reach for you, pulling you into my chest.

‘Snow,’ I murmur into your hair. ‘Simon, you scared me. I thought something had happened…’

‘Sorry,’ you whisper.

‘Did something happen?’

You don’t answer, and I pull back so I can look you in the eye. You’re frowning, and even though you’re looking straight at me it feels like you don’t see me. You’re a million miles away…

‘Ah. No,’ you say. ‘I just thought… no. Nothing happened.’

You drift back through the house, so distant, and I wish I could reach you.

***

For a long time I don’t hear you whispering the spells. You say you’re tired and you stay next to me all night. I see you looking lost when I leave the house, like I’m the only thing that’s grounding you and keeping you from floating away, finally consumed by the troubled thoughts in your mind. I wish I could talk to you about them and try to help you make sense of them, because I have memorised every inch of you and I think I could understand you, but I don’t know how to tell you that and you don’t try to let me in. Instead we exchange kisses, sometimes soft and slow, a steady reassurance that we’re in this together like we have been, really, from the start, and sometimes you push your mouth onto mine like a challenge. Can you do it, Baz? You seem to be asking. Will you stay with me, through all of this mess, despite everything? You used to hate me.

Yes, Simon. I will stay with you. I haven’t said it to you yet, not in so many words, but I’ve always loved you, I love you so much, it’s the one thing I’ll always know.

Even though I worry about you, and sometimes I question whether either of us is happy, I thank my lucky stars every day that it turned out like this.

***

And then you start whispering the spells again. ‘Up, up and away,’ you whisper, and I imagine a napkin – or a scone, because it’s you, love, you would choose something silly like that – slowly floating into the air and the joyful smile that would light up your face. Then I turn over and try to stop imagining it, because you might come in soon and I wouldn’t want you to find my tears slowly trickling onto your pillow.

I walk in one day (you finally gave in to my pestering and let me make a copy of your key) to find you standing in front of your bedroom door, your wand in your hand.

‘Open sesame,’ you’re saying, over and over again, and nothing is happening. You kick the door in frustration, then pull it closed again, and you keep trying. You keep saying it, Simon, and then you’re yelling it, again and again like you’re actually trying to make it work. Not the way you whisper spells at night, a ritual, a faraway fantasy, but saying the words with conviction like you think you could summon the magic into being again if only you will it hard enough.

‘Simon,’ I whisper, and you stop shouting, you turn around and hurriedly shove your wand into your pocket as if you could hide what you’ve been trying to do.

‘Why won’t it work for me?’ you say, your eyes searching mine as if I might hold all the answers.

‘You know why,’ I whisper. I was always scared that you would never look at me like this, like you need me, like I’m the one holding everything together. I was scared you didn’t need me the way I need you and now I’ve never felt so hopeless.

‘I just want to do magic. Magic was all I ever had, and now it’s gone. Why did the Humdrum have to take all of it? Surely, he didn’t need every single drop, surely I could…’

‘Simon,’ I say. ‘Magic was never all you had. You have me…’

It’s not enough. I know that deep down – or maybe not so deep, really – it’s not enough. You would never say it to me though.

‘Yeah,’ you say, smiling a bittersweet smile. ‘I know.’ You walk up to me and stand on your tiptoes and touch a hand to my cheek. ‘I love you, Baz.’

***

All the lights are off and I watch the eerie shadows flicker underneath the door. You’ve lit a flame – I heard you strike the match and the faint clatter of you placing the candleholder on the kitchen floor. I’m alert now, listening carefully. Just in case you need me.

‘Make a wish,’ you whisper.

I watch the light flickering under the door.

‘Make a wish.’

Please, Simon. You’re breaking my heart.

‘Make a wish!’

I close my eyes, and I try, Simon, I try, but I can’t let you do this while I lie here wasting away. Crowley, not again, not tonight.

I get to my feet and make my way into the kitchen in the darkness. You must’ve blown out the candle, but I can still make out the shape of you on the kitchen floor, you’re sitting cross-legged with your back against a cupboard and you’re crying. Your head is in your hands and your shoulders are shaking and I hear you crying, quietly, because you still think I’m asleep.

I kneel down on the cold floor next to you and I pull your hands away from your face. ‘Shh,’ I hear myself whisper, brushing the tears away with my fingers, wishing I could make all the hurt go away too. ‘It’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here, love.’

‘Baz,’ you say, your breath still shaky.

‘Shh. It’s okay.’

‘No, Baz.’ You pull my hands away. ‘Look.’

You get up onto your knees and you take my hand (really tightly, I might add, and soon enough I’ve lost all feeling in my hand, but I don’t say this). With your other hand you point at the floor, and I see the candle in front of us.

‘I know. You were trying to do magic.’

‘Baz, I –’

‘I hear you, Simon. Every night. I know.’

‘Baz, I put it out. The flame went out.’

There’s a wild hope in your voice and your eyes are dancing and you’re squeezing my hand. The hand that was pointing at the candle is shaking as you gesture wildly.

‘I did it, Baz, it worked. I swear.’

‘Are you sure?’ I whisper. ‘Are you sure you didn’t just blow it out by accident?’

I thought you were breaking my heart before, but now the tears are pouring silently down my face and I can only be glad it’s dark and your eyesight isn’t as good as mine. The despair is bad, but seeing you hopeful like this is more painful than anything I’ve ever felt, even in fifth year, even that day in the flames before you saved me.

‘I’m sure. I know you think I’m being dumb, but it’s for real. Baz, I’ve been practicing.’ You let go of my hand and it drops to my side like a dead weight. ‘This isn’t the first time.’ You fumble for the matches in the darkness and you try to light the candle again, but your hands are shaking too much and you can’t get the match to spark alight.

‘Simon, no…’

You drop the matchbox and pick up your wand instead, pointing it at the fridge.

Open sesame!’ you cry, and the fridge door flies open, hitting the wall with a bang while light suddenly pours out from the fridge, and I jump back in surprise as you leap to your feet.

‘See! See! I did it, Baz! I cast a spell!’ You dance to the fridge and pull it closed. ‘Open sesame!’ A drawer flies open and clatters right out, landing on the kitchen floor with a crash.

‘It’s working! I’ve got my magic back! Up, up and away!

The ground disappears from under me and I’m rising rapidly towards the ceiling and I’m still too dumbfounded to move or flail (like you did, the first time the spell was used on you; I always tease you about it until you climb on top of me to shut me up) and then my head bumps the ceiling.

‘Ow,’ I say, and with a flick of your wand you lower me back to the ground. As soon as my feet hit the ground I’m running at you and I’m hugging you and then we both crash to the ground and I’m covering your face with kisses and we’re both laughing and laughing and –

Simon, you’re so happy.

You’re lying on the ground and I’m on all fours staring down at you and the beautiful smile you can’t wipe off your face.

‘Simon,’ I breathe. ‘You’ve got your magic back.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’ve got your magic back.’

‘Now you’re repeating yourself, Bazzy.’

‘Don’t call me that,’ I snap, and you giggle. Crowley, I love that sound. ‘But how? I don’t understand.’

‘Maybe the Humdrum didn’t take all of it. Maybe I stole some from you. Who knows? Who cares!’

‘How long have you known?’ I roll off you and we both sit up.

‘A month or so,’ you say, and you’re still smiling, and your face is so relaxed, and your eyes are shining. ‘Every time you’ve caught me acting weird it’s because I just said something and it worked. Sometimes it would be a whole week where I would try and try and nothing would happen, but lately it’s been happening more often, and you saw me just now, I just realised I’ve got it back for real.’ You say it all in a breath, your words running over each other in your rush to get them all out.

‘Simon. That’s amazing.’

‘I know.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Well, I wasn’t sure… I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know if it was for real or just a one-time thing or an accident, and it still wasn’t working more times than it did and I didn’t want to say anything until I could show it to you. If I’d tried to cast a spell in front of you and it didn’t work, it would have broken your heart.’

Your hand finds mine and we both hold on tightly.

‘Baz, I know how much you hate it, when I get upset. I know you worry about me.’

‘I didn’t think…’

‘I know. You didn’t think I noticed.’

‘I love you,’ I blurt out. I never said it back to him that day.

‘I know,’ you say, and you smile, and it’s the perfect response. ‘Even though I’m a mess, and even though I didn’t have magic. So… yeah. I know you chose me even though… and… what I’m trying to say…’

You’re blushing. And I’m dying to know.

‘What?’

‘I’m just really lucky to have you. That’s all.’

‘Nah,’ I say, and Crowley, I’m blushing too. ‘I’m the lucky one.’

Behind the Rear Window - Ch.3

Finally Betty arrives!
The line that Betty quotes is from The Wings of a Dove by Henry James. It’s about a rich, society woman who only realises she can truly live once she finds out she is certain to die.

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Read on AO3


They’d moved in at one o’clock that afternoon. The girl with long blonde curls pinned beneath her white hat, and the boy with shockingly red hair slicked back from his forehead. Jughead had allowed himself a wry smile as the boy reopened their apartment door and guided her out with her hand in his, only to sweep her into his arms and carry her back across the threshold in true bridal style. They’d kissed, him anchoring his hand in her golden tresses, slow and languid like they didn’t have to rush anymore. She’d pulled back with a rose blush before darting her eyes to the open window. He’d rolled his own affectionately before make swift strides to pull the blind down. That was how it had remained all day, sun slowly slipping beneath the rooftops as Jughead mused as to whether wedded bliss could actually exist for some. Whether it sustained… only time would tell.

The quiet chink of his lamp being switch on startled him, shoulders tensing in apprehension. His front door clicked closed and he’d have to remind himself next time he was about to give someone a copy of his key not to. He tore his strained eyes away from the window to find her standing on the top step leading into his apartment. Alright, perhaps there was an exception to that thought, and she was currently radiating a warmth that he could feel against his skin from a few feet away.

“Are you sure you should be wearing a dress like that this close to the Southside?” he asked her around a smile. She grinned and he was blinded.

“Do you like it?” she asks, brushing her hand down the black bodice and across the white chiffon skirt, dotted with bundles of dark sequins shaped like feathers. “I think I’ve sold a hundred more like it just by wearing it out tonight.” He bit his lip at the hint of sarcasm in her pride.

“How was the party?” he asked, unaware of what party exactly she had been to but knowing that she would have been to one. She descended the steps with feminine taps of her heels, shoulders poised.

“Extravagant,” she told him truthfully, running her fingers over the lip of his desk, digits tripping over the jumble of objects in their path. “You know you have an awful lot of stuff in here,” she remarked, glancing around the dimly lit room. He blanched.

“I can only imagine the inside of your closet looks the same,” he joked, regarding her with a raised brow. A shrewd sharpness crept into her eyes as they returned to his, narrowing a tad.

“You’ve never seen the inside of my closet,” she answered indignantly.

“That’s why I only imagined,” he said tirelessly. She huffed a delicate exhale through her nose, dropping to the window seat in a rustling cloud of organza, exasperated by his words as always. Jughead thought he saw a shadow move behind the newlyweds closed blind but then it was gone. “How was your day?” he asked, laughing internally at the mediocre line of questioning. The saddest thing, he realised, was that he really cared.

“Hectic, I didn’t stop all day. I had three meetings with the board all before lunch. And the new line needed final approval before it goes on show next week. Then the girls wanted to do cocktails for the bimonthly catch-up. And I absolutely had to meet with Mayor McCoy, at The Lodge to discuss the town-centred articles for the upcoming issues, before going home to change,” she reeled off, oblivious to Jughead’s expression. Sure, the seemingly shallow mundanity of her daily excursions didn’t hold any appeal for him in the slightest. Watching the gentle brushing of her lips against one another, the bright, glowing flush in her cheeks as she spoke passionately in muted tones, was another thing entirely.

“The Lodge?” he enquired lightly, as she lent an elbow on the windowsill, palm cupping her cheek. Veronica’s image floated before his eyes. “Nothing but the best for our delightful mayor,” he snarked, giving a lazy two-fingered salute towards the Northside. Betty downcast her eyes, fingers playing with the sequins on her skirt.

“You’re making fun of me,” she accused, looking up at him from beneath thick, made-up lashes. His heart thudded in regret as his fingers stretched towards her.

“Of you? Never,” he confirmed as she rose, stalking towards him. She rest her hands on either side of him elegantly, filling his vision with her flawless features as she hovered over him. Perfect; the betraying thought simultaneously praised and admonished. He hoped that she couldn’t hear the hitch in his breath, or see that the new flush across his cheekbones wasn’t just a result of the late night heat, but he knew that she would. Women could be observant creatures.

“Good,” she whispered, pressing her lips against his in the barest of kisses. He chased the taste of her (strawberries, champagne, and the chalky tang of lipstick) when she pulled back, smiling, as she watched him from beneath hooded eyes before giving him what he wanted. “I don’t know about you but after today I’m absolutely famished,” she murmured between pecks. Jughead’s skin began to buzz.

“Completely starving,” he breathed. A wave of cool air hit his face as she breezed away, leaving him with parted lips and a quickened heartbeat.

“Aren’t you always?” she called boldly from where she now stood by the entranceway table. Jughead didn’t know how he’d missed the Pop’s paper bag she must have place there upon arriving – except he did and it was because she was a walking, talking distraction to him. He threw her an affectionate smile for her troubles.

“I’m sure Pop’s has never had anything as expensive as that dress even come close to it before – what a sight that must have been,” he laughed at the image of Pop, wrinkled eyes and white hair, hurrying to serve the angel that surely stumbled into his establishment. Betty shook her head at him with pursed, rosebud lips as she headed towards the kitchen.

“I’ll just let these warm for a while,” she called, ignoring his jibe.

Lights had illuminated the stages due to the lateness of the hour, casting ever brighter performances for Jughead to peruse. Miss Lonelyhearts had set up her usual ambience, low cut white blouse leaving little to the imagination even from where Jughead was perched as shadows flickered across her chest in the candlelight. Her hand kept going to the phone, pads of her fingers stroking the smooth surface of the receiver before flinching back as if she’d been burned. Every time she reached out for more.

Jughead felt a cool hand rest upon his shoulder, turning to gratefully accept the tall glass of water from Betty’s outstretched hand – alcohol had never been his preferred poison, for reasons he’d rather forget. Smoking had become his vice, a habit he regretted on occasion but not enough to break. She raised a delicate brow questioningly, gaze following his to the ground floor window opposite.

“Miss Lonelyhearts,” he sighed, gesturing towards her in explanation. He wouldn’t admit it but the dehumanising labels made his daily watching feel less intrusive. “She won’t do it.”

“She does this a lot?” Betty asked, sadness curling around her words. How she managed to be so empathetic towards complete strangers Jughead would never understand. And yet, he did feel his heart aching slightly for the woman who had more place in his life than he did in hers. Jughead and loneliness were, too, old companions, the latter making a habit of springing surprise visits on him whenever the mood struck. Over time Jughead had concluded that welcoming the pest with open arms was the more effective form of coping mechanism.

“Every night, give or take a few,” he nodded. Miss Lonelyhearts slumped over her dining table, shoulders shuddering with each sob.

“How devastating,” Betty murmured, hand coming up to rest at the base of her throat. A small line formed between her eyebrows and Jughead felt his fingers itch to smooth it away.

“At least you’ll never have to worry about that,” he quipped in an attempt to lighten the solemnity that had settled over them. Betty raised an eyebrow at him, squaring her shoulders slightly as she looked down at his upturned face.

“Oh? You can see into my apartment all the way from here, can you?” she asked accusingly. Jughead felt a tingle of shame crawling up the back of his neck, features glazing over into marble smoothness as he tried to keep his vulnerabilities hidden from the penetrating green of eyes.

“Surely that’s more your scene,” he said, jutting his chin out as he gestured with a thumb towards the window of Miss Legs. She was surrounded by a plethora of gentlemen, some with manners more lacking than others. The oldest of the clan wrapped his arms daringly around her slender waist, pulling her into his embrace as she planted her hands firmly on his chest, red hair swaying as she bounced her head back. He tapped his cheek, signalling for her to kiss it, turning his head when she complied and locking his lips with hers for the briefest of moments. She pulled away, swatting at his shoulder with a tight smile before twirling out of his hold and attending to her other guests. “She certainly seems to have chosen the most eager, if not the most prosperous,” Jughead murmured as the scene unfolded.

“She doesn’t love him – any of them,” Betty commented harshly from over his shoulder.

“How can you tell from here?” he asked quizzically. Betty sighed, blinking slowly as her eyes met his with a tender resignation.

“I thought you said it was most like my apartment,” she offered cryptically, blowing away to fetch their supper. Jughead turned back to the window with a knitted brow, her words dancing along the edges of his brain without fully sinking in. He understood her perfectly but his body was resisting the implications.

His eyes drifted away from the scene, feeling more like an intruder there than he had in weeks. He watched as Mr Caretaker once again brought a tray of food to his suffering wife, leaning in to press his lined lips against her temple in a sweet action of affection. She twisted away from him, ducking out of reach before he stood straight once more, fingers flexing uncertainly at his sides. She ignored his seething, busying herself with his offering. Caretaker stormed out, unnoticed, heading for the whiskey decanter and telephone simultaneously. Settling back into the sagging sofa, Caretaker took a deep swig of his drink, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he began to speak. His shoulders sunk with the release of a great pressure and his eyes drifted closed, relishing a moment of peace.

Jughead blinked as he noticed Mr Caretaker’s wife on her feet for the first time since he’d been shackled to the edge of his apartment. Unsteady and uncertain, she swayed towards the bedroom door, head tilted in listening. She was gone from sight as she stood fixed in the doorway, Jughead leaning further forward in his seat as he waited for the act to unfold. Muffled curses floated across the stagnant courtyard air as Mr Caretaker scrambled from his seat, hastily hanging up and chasing his wife back into their bedroom. She turned on him, her movements surprisingly calm, before settling back beneath the comforter and shrugging her frail shoulders nonchalantly. Mr Caretaker’s face flushed several shades of red as his hands clenched, frame tensed like an overwound toy.

There was a beat as they stared each other down, two revving vehicles playing chicken with one another, seeing who would break first. Jughead watched, enraptured, as she reclined into her mass of downy pillows slowly. Her upper lip curled over her pearlescent teeth in a menacing snarl. She laughed at her husband, uttering provoking words that Jughead couldn’t hear across the chasm. But he could see the challenging glint in her eye, so far removed from her previously broken stature. She was teasing him, aggravating him. Mr Caretaker took a step towards her, spinning on his heel at the last second and slamming the bedroom door with enough force to make Caramel bark from above.

The dramatic spell broke as the soothing chimes of piano keys drifted through the air, signalling final curtain.

“Where’s that delightful music coming from?” Betty asked in awe as she returned, bringing with her the enticing scent of Pop’s burgers and fries. Jughead’s mouth watered involuntarily as he eyed the tray she carried, only half focused on his response.

“Musician, up in that studio apartment. Struggling musician, I should say,” he elaborated, gesturing vaguely in the right direction. Betty set the tray in his lap and drifted closer to the window, entranced by the delicate notes swirling towards them.

“He’s wonderful,” she murmured wistfully, leaning longingly against the window frame, fingers coming to rest on the wood. Jughead tore his eyes away from his food to watch her watch the pianist. She was a delicate mass of graceful curves and elegant slopes, her curled, blonde hair taking on a silver tint as pale moonlight crept through the strands. Her full lips lifted into a faraway smile as she let the tune envelope her.

“Mr Indecisive,” Jughead informed her, a slight bitter note seeping into his voice as he registered the unfamiliar jealousy spreading throughout his chest. Betty turned to face him with a questioning look. He swallowed the sullen bite he’d taken, ready to explain. “He must be in some kind of family business – an older man who resembles him significantly is often over, getting him to host get-togethers for who I can only assume are investors. Every time they come the piano is shoved from the centre of the room, covered with a white sheet, and littered with accoutrements like it’s a side table. He chokes himself with a bow tie and spares frequent, pining glances at the thing the whole night as uptight businessmen rest their substantial bodies against it. And then they leave and he takes it back to centre stage, polishing it with the gentlest of care before sitting down with his sheets and his pencils to write music that makes women like you swoon,” Jughead finished, never realising how much he’d noticed the redheaded, freckled man before now. He’s staring a hole through the top of his burger.

“Women like me?” Betty asked, folding her arms. Jughead had the grace to look sheepish. She brushed off his choice of words and rearranged herself on the window seat. She watched him for a moment, as he so loved to do, digging into his food with the gusto only a man who was previously denied nourishment could obtain. “At least you can never complain about a meal,” she joked half-heartedly. He paused with a fry moments from his lips, staring down at the crisp, salty coating.

“It’s perfect, as always,” he lamented. Betty bristled, the word oozing over her skin like molten tarmac. A hand clenched around her heart as she regarded the man before her, broken in more ways than one.

“You’re so desperate to be free, aren’t you?” she asked sadly, resting her chin in her palm over her crossed legs. He looked up, startled by her remark, but remained silent. She sighed, settling back against the sparse cushions that littered the bench. “If you sat any closer to that open window you’d be falling out of it. You’re like a bird, every muscle poised for flight before you realise someone has tied a rope to your ankle, that I-” Jughead’s eyes flicked to his cast before once again finding her troubled face.

“Ravens and Doves rarely cohabitate,” Jughead muttered mockingly as she sat beneath the glow of the lamp, he in the shadows. Betty stiffened, surprising him by throwing her head back and laughing. “What? What is it?” he asked in confusion.

“‘I used to call her, in my stupidity – for want of anything better – a dove’,” Betty quoted, shaking her head in amusement. Jughead felt like he was being left out of the joke. “I’ll lend you my copy,” she relented, taking pity on him finally. Jughead squirmed in his chair, still feeling an uncomfortable churning brewing in his gut. “Why do you want to leave?” she whispered, eyes shining.

“Habit,” he mumbled. A silence stretched out between them, broken only once Mr Indecisive decided to press the keys of his piano. The sounds barely reached Jughead’s ears though, blood pounding in his head.

“Why can’t I come with you?” she asked some time later, the meekness in her voice vanishing to leave behind a stubborn firmness. Jughead lifted his eyes towards the ceiling in exasperation.

“Betty…” he began, ready to relay what he felt like he was telling her all the time recently. There was a divide between their worlds, a divide they were balancing precariously upon just by occupying the same space.

“No,” she cut him off, bottom lip pushing out in a petulant pout before she drew it back in, rolling it between her teeth to keep it from shaking. There were lines left in her lipstick. “You tell me I can’t be your kind of journalist, that it is not for people like me. But you can’t be mine either. I can’t go with you, you won’t stay here. According to you people are born, live, and die on the same spot!” Her hands curled into fists in the folds of her skirt.

Don’t they? Jughead thought, flashing images like carnival spinners replaying the moment he came home to find his father on the couch, contents of his stomach spilled alongside the contents of his beer bottle, chest still and unresponsive, lips rimmed blue…

“Have you ever had to camp out on the side of a mountain, nothing but an old tent and a sleeping bag as the temperature slips ten below freezing? Or been shot at while you’re driving across open land? Or had people sending you threats because your story put them in a less than desirable light?” he snapped at her, willing the memories back down, covering them with misplaced anger. Betty’s eyes glistened with fury.

“When would anyone have let me?” she asked quietly, a single eyebrow quirked in challenge.

“We have been given our roles by the powers that be,” he sighed.

“Well, if there’s one thing I know it’s how to play the part.” The corners of her eyes were downturned and it pained him that he could not get up and go to her. It was better, though, that he was incapacitated. It stopped him from doing something foolish like comforting her. Or worse, agreeing with her.

He merely watched as she rose from her seat, expecting her to depart without a second glance. Darkness flooded in around the edges of his vision. She stopped, back not entirely turned to him but still keeping her face averted.

“And you don’t think either one of us could change? That change is sometimes possible?” He didn’t answer. She toyed with the lens that lay between his typewriter and a stack of old magazines. “I’m in love with you and I don’t care what you do for a living, I just want to be a part of it somehow,” she confessed, voice low but strong. She glanced at him over her shoulder, blush spreading along the high points of her cheekbones. “Why do you always look at me like there’s something wrong?” she demanded at his silence.

“There’s nothing wrong with you! You’ve got this entire town in the palm of your hand, and if I were you I should keep it that way. Tell me, how many people know where you are right now?” he retorted with narrowed eyes. Her flush intensified until he could follow its path down her chest to where it disappeared beneath the neckline of her dress.

“Well it appears we are at an impasse,” she said, resignation painting an unpretty sight across her features. She draped her wrap around her shoulders, picking up her purse. “Goodbye, Jughead.”

“You mean goodnight?” he hurried to correct her, heartbeat quickening contrary to himself.

“I meant what I said,” she muttered, opening the door.

“Betty, couldn’t we just…” he stopped himself, pushing her out of the door whilst unable to let her go. In the dim light that cast shadows across her eyes he saw her as that little dove, hanging in a birdcage. “When will I see you again?” he asked instead.

“Not for a while,” she told him, voice quivering. She turned to the door, pausing once more. “At least not until tomorrow night,” she sighed, angry at him, angry at herself, angry at this game that they played.

The door clicked closed softer than he expected. Jughead turned back to the window with a heavy heart, weight of his cast never feeling more prominent. The sounds of the town continued below. As he ran his eyes over the adjacent buildings he noticed that, one after another, all the shutters were down for the night, Mr Scew-Up sleeping soundly on his balcony.

Jughead settled back against his chair, unable to close his eyes for the night as her words tumbled around his head. A glass broke, followed by a short cry. He turned, waiting for the continuation. But there was nothing, only silence.

You Know Better - Part 8 - Green Eyed

-gif source-

Story Description: Peter and the reader develop a slow relationship.

Part Description: Things start to heat up during a training session, only to come to a screaming halt after.

Warnings/Labels: Language, Naughty thoughts and adult themes.

Approx. Word Count: 2,800

A/N: Sorry this took so long guys! 

Story Masterpost

Keep reading

Sore Losers - Kim Taehyung x Reader

Originally posted by bangtanroyalty

Title: Sore Losers
Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader
Prompt: “You’re seriously going to make me sleep on the couch because I BEAT YOU IN MONOPOLY!?“
Rating: Fluffy !!!!


Everything was silent.

The room was dark.

“Guess the power went out.” A male’s voice rang through the room, various footsteps were heard, bumping into furniture, an opening of a cabinet, dragging of metal and a strike of a match. “Tae,” A girl’s voice called, a little bit father away from the boy’s current location. “Instead of lighting the match and failing miserably, we have a lighter in the kitchen.”

“But this is faster and we can resume our game.” The male responded, taking out a another match and ran it quickly against the sandpaper. “Let there be light!” He exclaimed as the candle lit slowly, the flame glowing bigger and brighter as oxygen had hit it.

Taehyung’s face glowed in the light, holding out the candleholder out to light his path as he walked. “You know, jagi, I think we need more than one candle…”

“You think?” She replied and got up, holding out her hands in front of her to feel her way through the room she was in. “I think the rest are somewhere,” Her voice drifted off as she moved farther away from the room they were in. “Upstairs?” She then held onto the banister. As she put her foot slowly and cautiously on the first carpeted step, strong, muscular arms wrapped around her midsection. “You’ll hurt yourself if you go upstairs.”

“But that’s where all the candles are.” She replied in the same aegyo voice he had used on her. “So I have to go upstairs.”

“We can just use flashlights.”

“Those are old and we don’t even know if the batteries still work. I have to buy more Triple A batteries over at the Dollarama.”

“It’s worth a shot, though,” Taehyung replied, burying his face in the back of her neck. He was almost like a little doggy in a way. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“You weirdo, I won’t get hurt climbing a bunch of stairs.”

“In the dark, you will.”

“Fine,” She quickly gave in, sighing and turning slightly, so that she could see the outline of Taehyung’s face in the dark. “Flashlights it is.”


Flashlights were now on, placed on their cylindrical bases, around various places in the room - which happened to be the dining room - like on top of the cabinet, a few scattered around the game board, and some littering the table.“I wonder where we get all the flashlights.” The girl mumbled, as she shook the dice in her enclosed hand. She then tossed them a couple centimeters in front of her and picked up her player piece, which was a sack of money - her lucky player piece - and moved it the amount of spaces the die had displayed. “I got the GO space! That means you owe me money, Mr. Banker!”

“You also have a couple of spaces to go.”

“Well, money first because I want to buy the property that you’re going to land on, on your next turn.” She taunted with a small smirk as Taehyung handed her the colored Monopoly money. Then she confidently moved the couple of spaces she needed to go before handing the money she saved up to buy property, counting it diligently in front of her boyfriend just to taunt and tease him further, and handed the money over with a small smile. “Baltic Avenue. Property now belongs to me!” She then placed a small, green house on the property before handing the pair of dice to Taehyung.

“I’ll get you back,” He replied with a small smirk, loving the competitive side that was showing off during this game. It made things quite fun. “Just watch you back, love.”

“You should be the one who should watch his back!” She retorted and giggled, watching as Taehyung rolled his dice, hoping he’ll land on her properties and especially her new one - Baltic Avenue.



Their game was coming to a close, each side had an equal amount of properties around the board. (Y/N) was cutting it close, her piece, her lucky piece was rectangles away from Taehyung’s property, just two spaces away.

Pretty please, Lady Luck, please.

Please, let luck be on my side today.

She picked up her dice, where Taehyung had placed them in the middle of the board, a small smirk on his face. “I bet you anything that you’ll get a two.”

“Don’t you dare jinx me, V.” The dice was slowly shook in her two enclosed hands, hoping that she’ll get over the number two.

Anything but two ones, please.

The die was then tossed centimeters in front of her, rolling a bit. “Please, at least be anything but double ones.”

“Double ones!” Taehyung chanted as the dice slowly stopped turning and landed on…

double ones.

“Noooo!!!” She cried and threw her hands up in the air. “I refuse to loose!”

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Taehyung replied, smiling as he leaned over the table and took the rest of her Monopoly money. “And according to the rules of the game, I win.” He then chuckled as the female in front of him pouted and crossed her arms, watching as Taehyung placed his Monopoly money in the black, plastic storage unit, making sure each different colored Monopoly money was paired with the right color and packed the game away.

As she planned the greatest idea ever, the lights turned on.

Oh, we’ll find who’s going to be a sore loser tonight.

During the making of dinner, which was literally Taehyung ‘trying’ to help her with cooking - trying as in, whining about how the pot wasn’t boiling yet so the pasta wasn’t able to be put in yet, though he forgot the key ingredient to make water boil quicker; salt. - and ended up just setting the table instead.

“You aren’t mad about what happened earlier right?” He hesitantly asked, nearing his girlfriend and wrapping his arms around her waist. “I mean, it’s just a game right, jagiya?”

“Totally, TaeTae.” She replied, keeping a straight face, trying not to smirk. She then turned her face slightly and kissed his cheek before turning off the electrical stove. Taehyung smiled as he let go, letting his wonderful girlfriend take control of dinner.

Ahhh, payback is going to be a bitch.



Soon bedtime rolled around, as Taehyung was taking a shower, (Y/N) snickered as she took Taehyung’s pillow from his side of the bed and the comforter from their bed and dragged them downstairs, onto the couch.

Now who’s the sore loser now.

She then ran up the stairs, into their bedroom, dropped a pair of boxers and sleepwear pants outside the door, closed it and locked it. For once, she was glad Taehyung was taking a shower in the other bathroom and not in the master’s ensuite.

Once he was done showering, stepping out of the bathroom, towel hanging loosely from his hips, he walked over, running his hand through his brown locks and huffed as soon as he saw his clean clothes on the carpeted floor. “(Y/N), what’s the purpose of this.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” She replied through the door, holding in her laugh. She bit her lip as Taehyung groaned from outside the door. “And, just in case you try, I locked the door.”

“Oh, c'mon, jagiya, what did I do to deserve this?” Which in turn he got the silent treatment. The female smiled to herself and laid down, getting comfortable in the queen sized mattress, pulling up another comforter - which she had gotten from underneath their clothes in the walk-in closet of their room - up to her chin, nestling in. “Jagi,” Taehyung whined, trying to catch the girl’s attention. “Jagiiiyaa~!”

Finding it didn’t work after a couple of tries, he sighed and walked back into the bathroom, changing into the clothes she had supplied for him and went downstairs, finding the couch already set up for him. He huffed and made his way over, plopping into the stupid couch, a big puppy dog pout on his face.

A few moments of shifting into different positions on the cramped couch, it hit him. The reason for all of this torture.

“I seriously cannot believe she’s making me sleep on the couch for winning a damn game of Monopoly,” He muttered to himself, pulling the blankets onto him hastily. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around since she lost?”

Back upstairs, the mastermind of the plan smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. “Don’t be a sore loser, Tae…” She whispered with a slight chuckle.


A/N: Sorry everything took too long to write! I’ve been taking care of my dog, Hiro, and my brother. Plus this is literally the last week before school. Ew, school, gross.

-H.