the way her hands frame his face

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

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

Connor Murphy was a lot of things.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was going to be a long two weeks.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t yell.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great! Wanna show her the room?”

Connor grinned crookedly. “Follow me, kid.”


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

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

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

“Your room, my lady.”

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m fi–”

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

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

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

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

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

We were very, very naked.

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

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

This was how it started, I realized.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

I was alone.

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

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

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

And boy, were they pretty.

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

Besides, you know, the obvious.

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

Which meant Zoe was in trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s right here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He frowned. “I don’t need the bed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know,” I said quietly.

“Know what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Connor Murphy was nothing to be ashamed of.

And now it was too late to be his friend.

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

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

I froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing in here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I pretended we were friends.

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

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

Connor deserved to know.

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

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

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

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

I shook my head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed. “That was two summers ago.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He cared about me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I’m not.”

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

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

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

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

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

I didn’t sleep.


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

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

“You’re awake.”

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I frowned. “What about it?”

“We won’t see each other again.”

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

He frowned. “You’d come to see me?”

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

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

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

Which wasn’t okay.


“This is such bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time to go back and face reality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

“What?” I screeched, frustrated.

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

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

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

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


The panic set in at twilight.

We were running.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded. “I’m really sorry, Connor.”

“Don’t be sorry. Start walking.”


It was an accident.

It was dark.

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

It was an accident.

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

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

“There’s no dry wood. I checked.”


“No, okay? Nothing. That’s it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” he growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something cut my hand!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t–I wouldn’t ask you to–”

“I’m not sucking you off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ew,” he said. “Please don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he’s an idiot.

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

That was the last thing I remembered.


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

Connor was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They said the same about you.”

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

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

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

It wasn’t fair.

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

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

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

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

“I do a lot of pot.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t talking about that kiss.”

Connor Murphy!

Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 3/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Abuse,  mixture of fluff and angst throughout the series, homophobia

A/N: Listen to THIS beautiful piece whilst reading !! (right click on the video and press loop!). This isn’t my favourite part, but enjoy some Richie and Bev friendship time!

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Richie tossed and turned, the storm outside loud and frightening. The sound of the wind swishing through the air in ripples was very ear-splitting on this very night. He could barely sleep on this dark; cold night, too many thoughts were swirling inside of him.

His curls were matted against his pillowcase and his legs were tangled between his blanket, in order to get comfy. Which wasn’t working very well.

Richie smiled as he remembered the memories of today, how him and Eddie were reunited. Sure, it wasn’t the same as it was. But who says it can’t be in the future?

A sigh left Richie’s chapped lips as he began to settle into a dark abyss of sleep.


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shadows pt. 1

pairing: reader x Hoseok, OT7

genre: vampire!au, angst, implied smut, mentions of violence

word count: 5,780

synopsis: you thought that the death of your maker would lead to freedom from chains, but little did you know that bonds are much harder to break after death.

A/N: I have to thank @2seoke for helping me brainstorm almost this entire series and @jeonjagiya for helping me with historical fact checking

Originally posted by yoonqipd

read the first installment of the Ashes Trilogy here

“I love you, Hoseok” you murmured, feeling a sense of content for the first time in months.

He smiled, “I love you too” He nodded towards the sunrise, “Take in your last few moments. We don’t have much time before the sunlight will reach us.”

You nodded, turning your attention back towards the painted sky. You wanted nothing more than to run out and feel the sun’s rays. To soak your skin in sunlight, but this was enough. It was more than enough.

 “I’m ready” you tell Hoseok, turning around and lacing his fingers with yours. “Where to now?”

 “We can go anywhere you want to go, just give me a name.” he smiled, leading you back into the darkness.

 The two of you walked in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other’s presence. You tried to think of where you wanted to go, but you didn’t care. As long as you were with Hoseok, nothing else mattered.

 But your partner froze next to you, staying still for a split second before he pinned your body against the damp tunnel wall. He covered your mouth with his hand before you had any chance to question his sudden behavior. There was a flash of panic in his eyes as he stared at you when a woman’s voice rang out through the darkness.

 “Jung Hoseok, I always told you to be careful of what’s hiding in the shadows”

 He stood between you and the woman, a deep growl emitting from his chest as the two of them stared at each other.

 "It’s nice to see you haven’t changed much,“ she smiled wickedly. She was almost beautiful, in a terrifying way. Her wild red hair framing a pale freckled face. Her black eyes laced with unspoken evil. There was something about her that made your cold blood freeze.

"What the hell are you doing here?” Hoseok hissed, pushing himself further against you like a shield.

The woman cocked her head to the side, “Don’t you miss me, Hoseokie? It’s been what, almost 700 years since the last time we’ve seen each other? I certainly wasn’t expected to be greeted with such hostility, especially since you seem to have company.”

“Go to hell!” Hoseok snapped, spit flying from his lips in between the syllables.

The vampire held up her hands, “I think you’re misunderstanding me Hoseok. I don’t want to hurt you. I was just trying to pay my old friend Kai a visit,” her eyes flickering onto yours as she spoke, “But it seems like he’s no longer at that address.”

You could feel Hoseok telling you to keep your mouth shut, to not antagonize the vampire in front of you. But he should know by now that you’re a terrible listener, “I can send you his ashes in a box, if you would like.” you quip, flashing the vampire a sarcastic smile.

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Secret Kisses || Remus Lupin x Reader [[request]]

[[request prompt: Please do an Imagine with Remus where the Marauders are curious because he disappears randomly, not because of the werewolf-disaster but because he’s secretly making out with a shy Reader :D]]

I have been dying to write this imagine omg I’m so excited for this !! ೕ(•̀ᴗ•́)

**I apologize for any grammatical errors since this was all written on my phone. When it’s posted then I’ll make sure to edit it a few more times just in case!**

warnings: none, just pure fluff

**don’t repost/plagiarize this story! Reblogs are fine!!


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jollystyles  asked:

43, 62 for the writing prompt thing if that's okay (-:

Originally posted by fireproof-harry

Harry stands across from her with his hands tangled in his hair, his lips a deep cherry red from how much he’s bitten on them, and his eyebrows narrowed to form a line between each other.

“Maybe we are better off apart…” The dreaded words seep out of her mouth. Harry immediately shakes his head, disagreeing wholeheartedly. There is not a doubt in his mind that they belong together, he’d even go as far as saying that they were soulmates. The connection they shared was magnetic, and he’d be a fool to let her slip away from him. 

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I’ve got my swim trunks, and my flippie-floppies

for @legividivici, hope you like it!! <3 (ao3)

The last place Clarke expected to run into anyone she knows is the literal middle of the ocean, but the cruise ship has barely left port before she spots a familiar head of tousled curls ahead of her in the crowd.

She loses sight of him before she can get a good look, so she chalks it up to her imagination. It’s entirely possible that Bellamy is on the same cruise she is– they did, after all, both just graduate, and therefore have the same budget and scheduling constraints– but she tells herself it probably isn’t him. And that even if it is him, it’s not like they’re going to run into each other.

So of course the next day she’s on one of the decks by the pool when a shadow falls over her and his voice says, “Is this chair taken?”

Clarke pushes her sunglasses up on top of her head and wrinkles her nose at him.

“I don’t know, I my tiara really ought to have a chair of its own.”

Bellamy smirks and sits on the edge of the chair, not moving her stuff– not yet– but settling in to bicker with her. As is their custom.

She and Bellamy were RAs in the same dorm two years ago, and they had differing ideas at first about how hands-on they needed to be with their freshmen. Despite the way they picked at each other, by the end of the year they’d become reluctant allies, his calling her ‘Princess’ taking on less of a sneer and more of a teasing edge, her comebacks laced with a smile. They had each other’s backs.

But she didn’t re-up her RA contract for her senior year, and he did, and they’re not the type of friends to outright admit they miss each other, so she hasn’t seen nearly as much of him in the past couple of semesters as she would like.

“You here with Wells?”

“And Raven,” she nods. “I was saving those seats for them, but I’m pretty sure they ditched me to have tiny cabin sex.”

“O and Lincoln ditched me pretty fast too. I think they’ve all forfeited their right to a saved seat,” he grins, passing her bag back to her. The way he lounges back in the chair, skin already browning, wind ruffling his hair, he looks like something straight out of an ad. Or Clarke’s fantasies. Either one, really.

Just because she used to think he was a Class-A dick (which he is, but not in the way she thought. In the fun way.) doesn’t mean she’s never noticed how great his hands are, or how he’s got perfect hair for pulling, or how there’s probably more than one way to wipe a smirk off his face.

“Sure, make yourself at home,” she grumbles. He grins at her and pulls his shirt off, which is– honestly just so unfair.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

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I just… if I may: current things that are slaying me about The Kiss Scene

  • How Benvolio frames his entire speech around making sure Rosaline gets what she wantswhich has been a repeated mantra of hers since the beginning and finally someone’s putting her first
  • The innocence of his shocked expression when Rosaline takes his hand and he looks up at her with what can only be described as Pure Hope
  • How when she tells him she trusts him she’s literally telling him she loves him because he already established those two things are the same and she knows that and she tells him she trusts him
  • The way Rosaline’s eyes keep scanning his entire face when she leans in before the kiss
  • The way they’re both holding their breaths in anticipation like bitch me too tf
  • The softness and shyness of that first kiss and the beautiful camera angles when they pull away AND THEN GO RIGHT BACK AT IT WITH NO HOLDING BACK THIS TIME, JUST HANDS MOVING AND JAWS WORKING BLESS

Undercover Discovery

Spencer Reid x Reader

Requested: No. You and Spencer are asked to go undercover at a couples retreat to catch a couple that have been performing high-profile kills. You successfully catch the UnSubs and discover something that you had always wanted to know.

Word Count: 2,331, Warnings: None.

A/N: I had this idea in my head for a long time after watching Season 8 Episode 18 of NCIS: Los Angeles. Eric and Nell went undercover to a couples retreat and it was really cute. This is slightly different but definitely inspired by it. This fic is honestly major fluff and God, Reid is such an amazing human.

(Gif not mine, credit to owner)

Originally posted by mggandme

“Wait,” you said gently shaking your head in confusion. “Let me get this right. You want Spencer and I to go undercover at a couples retreat?” blinking vicariously and cocking an eyebrow at your unit chief. “Precisely, yes,” Emily replied professionally yet somehow her voice exposed to you that this was a ruse to get you to admit your undying love for the oblivious genius. The team’s glance switched between you and Spencer as he sat awkwardly in his seat, switching his weight from one leg to the other. “Look, guys, it’s only for two nights until we can catch the couple in the act,” explained Luke taking another sip of his now cold coffee. You rolled your eyes and turned to Spencer, he nodded up at you whilst fiddling with his thumbs signalling he’d be willing to do it. “Alright, fine. We’ll do it. Garcia, what can you tell me about the couple and the retreat?” Asking the peppy blonde as you sat down in a chair next to Spencer. “Well, munchkin. The couples retreat you’re going to go to is called ‘The Homestead’ located in Hot Springs, Virginia. The Homestead is a luxury resort located in the Allegheny Mountains. The couple..”, she began as she pressed the stubborn button on her remote causing pictures of the couple to pop up. “Liam Hart, 31 and Mary Davis, 28 are both going to be attending this weekend.”, the team nodded, scanning their tablets for more information. “Alright. JJ and Alvez, I want you as well as Reid and Y/L/N to be hooked up with in-ears and you can feed them information along the way.”, they obliged, slowly getting up from their seats. “Now, you two. Act like a damn couple, hold hands or something,” exclaimed Rossi as he pointed a finger at both of you, causing the other team members to stifle their laughs. “Go home and start packing, I want you back here in 2 hours,” Emily stated whilst walking away to her office, the evidence of a smirk dripping in her voice.

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‘These University Guys’ (Maknae smut- Lie 1)

Originally posted by mochivkook

A/N: Legit just finished it. Will edit later, lol.

Summary: You meet the devilishly handsome Jungkook while having to deal with your turbulent relationship with Taehyung and the charming Jimin.

Pairings: You x Taehyung, You x Jimin, You x Jungkook (lol)

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Word count: 3583

Trigger warnings: Swear words, smut, age difference relationships (not weird though), hint of a death (barely), sad Jimin

part 2

Jungkook- the obliviously popular University guy. The hot, charming, sweet and shy boy with great hair.

The kind, honest Jungkook.

Well, I guess that was the first lie.

The first of 15.

4 months ago

“Come on, guys. Do you realize how pathetic you sound? You’re literally one of tens, maybe hundreds, of people who are falling all over this guy.” You scoff and stuff another spoon of yogurt into your mouth.

“Oh, please, Y/N!” One of your friends, Kylie, the most logical of them all, pipes up. “Like you wouldn’t drop your panties the second his fingers grazed your shoulder.”

You laugh again and shake your head at the group of girls sitting around the lawn outside the school. Seriously, of all these high school girls, you thought you had befriended the few that weren’t in love with Jungkook.

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anonymous asked:

+++ can you please do a headcanon where rfa reacts to mc's death? pretty please +++

a|n warning: if you’re faint of heart, or cannot handle death, do not read.

RFA reacting to MC’s death


  • tears were prickling his eyes as he sat still on the cold metal chairs outside the hospital’s operating room
  • earlier that day, he brought you to one of his fan meets
  • but little did Zen know bringing you in today was the w o r s t choice he could ever make in his entire life
  • the echo of the gunshot was still freshly ringing inside his head followed by the panic and stampede caused by the people inside the fan meeting premises
  • he couldn’t remove the image he saw moments after he heard the gunshot — the face of the culprit and the sadistic smile it had on its features
  • how you suddenly screamed for his name and shielded him using your body
  • how you coughed up blood and fell right before his eyes
  • he tried to cover his ears as the resounding screams of terror and panic echoed inside his head, haunting him, taunting him, reminding him of how badly he screwed up on the only time you needed him the mosthis gaze fixated blankly towards the marbled floor of the silent hallways; just waiting … and waiting … and possibly hoping for an answer that might ease the pain
  • the door creaked open and he was quick to bolt up, although limping and dirty from the chaos he just got out from, he was very eager and hoping to hear a positive answer from your operation
  • “Doctor!” Zen exclaimed as he approached the one who just got out of the operating room, his face wet from tears, his clothes stained with blood and filth “How is she?”
  • his face was hopeful — the small flicker of light the only thing left inside the dark abyss he’s slowly drowning in
  • but as soon as the doctor removed his mask and gloves
  • Zen knew it wasn’t the answer he was hoping for
  • “I’m sorry for your loss, Sir.” 
  • as soon as those words reached him, his world stopped, the feeling of dizziness and disbelief washing over his system
  • he slowly backed down, his expression flashing cynicism before it all turned into despair and anger
  • “What?” his lips quivered as his arms fell limply on his sides, his crimson hues turning blank from the news he just got
  • “Come again? Will you please repeat that?” Zen’s voice inquired quietly, his lips twisting an incredulous smile “You’re just joking, right?”
  • “I’m very sorry about this. We … did our best. You brought her here a little too late. She already … lost a lot of blood. We are very sorry to deliver this news to you.” the doctor was trying his best to be sympathetic in his explanation but his sympathy failed to reach Zen’s ears
  • his entire system turned deaf and numb at the news
  • “What the hell?” a bark of laughter escaped his mouth as he shook his head, his refusal to let the news sink in evident on his actions
  • “That’s a funny one, Doctor! I’m an actor and I’ve seen lots of plays with this kind of joke running around. You can’t be serious, right?” his eyes tiredly gripped the doctor’s collar as he lightly shook him, his crimson hues passing a silent plead
  • but the doctor only dipped his head low, his silence the confirmation of everything he’s afraid to know
  • “Her time of death is 19:05, 9/11/2017. If only you were able to rush her here immediately then …”
  • upon hearing that, he tried to get past the doctor, pushing him out of the way and limped himself inside the operating room wherein he was just in time to see the nurses putting a white blanket over your lifeless body
  • the tears he tried so hard to restrain, now falling like mad waterfalls on his face, his hands shaking as he slowly removed the blanket that covered your entire frame upon reaching you
  • he grasped your hand with his and it further broke his heart when you didn’t make any movements to squeeze back, your skin cold against his touch
  • “Baby, please wake up. Wake up for me. You can’t leave me here! You promised to be with me until the very end, didn’t you?”
  • and every silent moment that passed, the further it made everything clear for him
  • “Babe … Babe, please. Open your eyes.” and even if how many times he begs, how many times he tries, it couldn’t change the fact that presented itself before him
  • you’re gone
  • and you’re never coming back
  • and it’s all his fault


  • so Jaehee just got out real quick to replenish some supplies for their cafe when it all happened
  • the inevitable fate that played its cards on their poor souls
  • much to her horror, she came back to something she wished in all her lifetime to never experience
  • the entire building was burning up in flames
  • “Oh god …” and what struck her the most was the fact that you’re still inside, silently sleeping on the employee’s quarters, the last place she checked to see you before she went out
  • before the burning building, there she stood still with her body shaking just before she heard the loud sirens of the firetrucks coming towards her direction
  • “MC!!! No!” it was her catalyst to run like mad and try to get herself inside the burning building, ignoring the fact that she might die while trying to save you
  • “Hey Lady! Come back here!” voices tried to stop her from going near the flames, she was frantic enough to come dashing, fully ignoring the warning calls of the people trying to knock some senses to her
  • the fire was burning high in the sky, creating a thick black smoke in the air
  • but before she can finally reach the entrance, she was pulled back by one of the firemen, a group of them now taking over in prying the entrance open
  • the fire was not showing any signs of being extinguished soon as it more parts of the building to be burned to further fuel itself high in the sky
  • her face was already wet with tears as she stared in horror, obviously very helpless at the moment
  • all Jaehee could hope was for you to actually present yourself in front of her and hug her and assure her that everything’s fine
  • that everything’s going to be fine
  • but moments passed and moments turned into long minutes and you didn’t come out
  • and only then was she able to fall on her knees in a silent surrender
  • the inevitable feeling of doom now reigning inside her heart
  • an ambulance came and medics started pouring out as one nurse tried to ease her up from grovelling on the ground to cover her in a wet blanket
  • she was then guided to sit on the edge of the ambulance and only then was Jaehee able to see her reflection on the mirror
  • she was covered in filth, her face stained with dirt from the fire, her hair a disheveled mess and her eyes bloodshot from tears
  • her body was so exhausted that she couldn’t feel anything else but her own hopelessness
  • her head perked up when she heard murmurs just a few feet away from her, two medics talking with each other with one holding something that looked like a checklist
  • “Did you hear? They only retrieved one body inside.” one hushed towards the other, fully unaware of how someone can hear them clearly “It’s severely burnt.”
  • Jaehee’s eyes widened as she mindlessly got up and walked in a daze towards the burning building
  • and true to what she heard, a stretcher was bringing out one lifeless body
  • a body that was beyond recognition
  • “This isn’t real. MC, no, you can’t leave me … not like this.” she pleaded, her voice breaking apart
  • she slowly walked towards the people carrying the stretcher, hoping that this is all just a nightmare she needed to wake up from
  • but what confirmed her fear was how she was able to recognize the thing the corpse was holding
  • because in the hand of the burnt corpse was the eyeglasses you borrowed from her
  • her own eyeglasses
  • and from then and there
  • for the first time ever
  • she broke down and cried like there’s no tomorrow


  • what’s hard in this life was how everything he had hoped to have always had a way to escape his grasp
  • recounting how worst the situation is only brought him to a further deeper level of depression and detachment from everything around him
  • his most prized possession was after all, removed again from his touch
  • each day that passed only made him more anxious of the days to come, wishing, hoping, wanting that it wouldn’t be the last
  • the last time he’ll be able to see your smile
  • the last time he’ll be able to feel your touch
  • the last time he’ll be able to hear your laugh
  • and each days that passes by was only making him wish for more extension of the days he’s able to spend with you
  • but he was not blind not to recognize how the situation at hand was of no further saving
  • that this time, truly, it might be the last
  • and that the time that was given to the both of you has finally reached the end of its cycle
  • “My love.” he whispered as he lay down beside you, his arms enveloping you to a warm embrace “Are you tired?”
  • you tilted your head up to meet his gaze, tears prickling from the corner of your eyes, unable to process that you’ve come to the end of the road
  • you were only able to produce a small nod
  • you heard how he sharply inhaled as he tightened his hold on you, his touch showing how he badly wanted to keep you
  • to hold you
  • to never let you go
  • “I see.” his deep voice reverberated as you pressed your ears near his chest, hearing the slow beating of his heart at the same time
  • a rhythm that strangely put you at rest every single time
  • you were after all very fond of hearing how his heart beats for you and no one else but you
  • your heart broke at how time seemed to run fast at the moments you wanted to stay with him
  • at the moments you wished you were permitted by life itself to be by his side
  • and how it was achingly slow to wait for the inevitable twist of fate to happen
  • “No matter what happens …” Jumin’s voice trailed off as you were finally able to release the sobs you were trying so hard to stop
  • you can hear his own voice break as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead, a droplet of wetness from him protruding on the skin of your face
  • “I love you.” he breathed, his own voice shaking. his resolve now crumbling as he himself started to silently succumb to his dreadful emotions
  • “I have loved you in this life. And I am going to love you in the next.” he whispered, now his lips touching the tip of your nose, his slender fingers wiping the tears that kept on falling to the side of your countenance “I am going to love you and only you to every life I will be given.”
  • you nodded silently as you felt the time finally going its last round of quarter, your own frail hands desperately trying to get a hold of him
  • desperately trying not to let go
  • desperately wanting to feel him whole
  • “I am going to love you hard … that not even time can soon stop us from being together. Not again, not ever.” and with a quick lift of your chin to face him, you felt his warm lips melt against your own, the intensity of his love for you watering your dried soul
  • and his love will be the only thing that will guide you in this lifetime
  • “Rest now, my love. I will be here beside you.”
  • the knowledge of knowing that his love will go lengths just for you soon lulled you into your silent surrender, your eyes closing, marking the end of the cycle of time in your life
  • finally ending your struggle and battle with the sickness you carried the entire duration of your waking days
  • and until you drew your very last breath
  • you knew he was there
  • and that his love will soon revive what was lost
  • what time had failed to permit the two of you to have: a love that can be shared without constraints and struggles, a love so pure, so true and a love that only your hearts will be able to recognize
  • a love that not even sickness can tear you both apart
  • not on this lifetime, but maybe on the next


  • “So, for your birthday, what do you want to do?” Yoosung asked his 4 year old son as he happily tied his shoelaces for him at the porch of their home
  • “I … want … want to … amusement park!” the broken sentences of his child only made his heart swell in joy as the kid beamed at him, the evidence of his youth showing at how his two front teeth was still growing
  • “Ohhh! That’s a very great choice! You really do resemble papa, huh?” he teased as he carried his son and tickled him, the child laughing heartily at his little tickle session
  • “Now, now, stop that both of you.” he heard your voice as you made yourself known to the both of them, showing how ready and perfectly dolled up you are for the day’s itinerary
  • “Mama!” your child beamed and tried to reach you with his tiny, little hands, closing and opening his palms with a smile as bright as the smile of the man you love
  • “You look beautiful! You’re always beautiful for me, honey. Always, okay? I have a very beautiful wife!” Yoosung gushed, his lips now curling a full grin - his amethyst orbs twinkling in happiness “So, my beautiful wife, let’s go?”
  • you nodded eagerly as you interlaced your fingers with his free hand and walked towards the drive way, with the hope for a very great day ahead of you
  • but just as how the day began so bright
  • life truly has a way to make you payback for that tiny ounce of happiness
  • because in the middle of the trip to the amusement park,
  • the car swerved and swayed, your child crying helplessly in your arms, Yoosung trying his best to gain his control back on the steering wheel, the sound of the tires screeching and the last thing you can feel is your body being squeezed and ripped apart
  • … and then there was darkness
  • and that darkness opened a light when Yoosung was able to regain his consciousness
  • his ears can catch people buzzing, whispering and the deafening sounds of ambulances all over
  • he groaned when he felt like his entire body was slammed hard that he failed to move according to the way he wanted
  • then a blinding pain attacked him on the lower portion of his body
  • and only then was he able to fully wake his consciousness up and he never wished so bad that he just didn’t wake up
  • he stared in horror at how his legs were severely squeezed in between his seat and the car controls
  • his head feeling light, his mouth painfully bruised, his eyes too heavy to fully open
  • but what broke his heart the most was when he was finally able to roam his eyes to his side
  • only to be greeted by the bodies of his family
  • covered in blood
  • and l i f e l e s s
  • that he was only able to release a strained scream of horror, his eyes hurting his face the moment his tears started falling down
  • “No … No! No, no, no!!” he screamed your name … and screamed and tried to squirm out of his current position just to reach you, just to hold you, just to check if you’re still with him only to be assaulted back by blinding pain
  • and until he was pried out of the broken vehicle and ushered to the ambulance
  • and up until they were able to reach the hospital
  • the only thing that greeted him was a declaration of his life shattering before his very eyes
  • “Dead on Arrival. A woman and a child. Car accident. 14:02 P.M. 09/11/2017.”
  • and the fact that you died
  • in his very own hands


  • not once in his life did he want something as bad as he wanted you
  • as bad as he wanted to leave a proof of existence to you
  • and as bad as he wanted to have you and only you in his life that was full of nothing but misery and loneliness
  • that’s why, he was very fixated on the thought that whatever mess he tangled himself in, he’d get out of it no matter what
  • he was going on a mission that he, himself, was not even sure if he’d be able to get out alive after
  • to confront the shadows that he, for the longest time, had tread after
  • to confront the enemies he thought he already got rid of
  • thinking that nobody in his life will be affected if he just stayed away from the people he cared about
  • but then you came to his life and no matter how hard he tried to resist, he was able to slowly fall in love with you
  • and then he was able to realize how much of a mistake it was the way he had been living his entire life
  • and he wanted nothing else but to protect you no matter what
  • so that a time will come when both of you will finally be able to stop running away from them, running away from that
  • but what surprised him most, the day he was ready to confront his shadows, was to find you, gagged, tied, covered in blood and beaten up
  • your entire body laying inside the abandoned factory from which he had received an intel that it will be the place for the final confrontation
  • Saeyoung just stood there, his eyes wide in horror as he slowly read the words painted in red on the dull wall behind your body
  • “You can never leave.”
  • and in that moment, all he saw was red and nothing else, the rage inside his body building up
  • but the moment he heard you release a strangled cough, he was quick on his feet to go to you
  • “MC! MC … thank god. Please, don’t strain yourself. I’ll untie you alright? Stay with me. Just listen to my voice!” he stated in a panic, his voice shaking so badly against his throat
  • “Sae … young …” you whispered, the metallic taste of blood grazing your taste. and then you slowly tilted your head just enough to see him, his face now wet with tears
  • his golden orbs flicked towards you and you can see resentment and anger deep within them
  • you tried to crack a smile and whispered, albeit a hoarse voice, the words, “At least … you’re going to be free now. Y - you’re going to be okay.”
  • “No! No, who said I’m going to be okay with you like this?! You idiot! Who told you to fix my mess, huh?” he exclaimed, the flood of his tears never stopping
  • you smiled softly towards him and whispered, “I - I just wanted you to be free. And you are … from now … on … okay …?”
  • and with a last, small cough of blood
  • you saw darkness
  • “You idiot! You … idiot …” his voice broke down as he fell on his knees, his body now shaking from the uncontrollable tears flowing from his eyes, “Why did you do this? It should be me! It should be me … I should be dead!”
  • how badly he wanted for this to just be a bad dream - for him to wake up from this nightmare and to be greeted by your smiling face
  • his desperate self was praying and hoping for all of this to just be a prank - that the heavens must have only been playing a joke on him
  • he waited for your eyes to flutter open and then laugh at him at how ugly he possibly looked at this moment
  • but it never came - your eyes never opened again
  • you’re the only good thing in his life
  • how can you leave him?
  • every single day he pushed you away came back to him like a curse, all the moments he wasted not being able to tell you how much he loves you, how much he cares for you and how much he wishes for you to stay with him forever came rushing back
  • he circled his arms around your body, pulling you close, wanting to never let go
  • and in that brief moment of silence, he was able to know who is responsible for this
  • and came to a resolve he should have done a long time ago:
  • get revenge even if it means he’ll lose his life in the process
  • after all, what is his life’s purpose if you’re not included in it anymore? he’ll follow you soon so you won’t be alone.

Pairing: Florist!Steve x Reader x Biker!Bucky
Summary: Steve and Reader meet the man behind the sunflowers.
A/N: Okay so this is based off an ask here. This is written in collaboration with @writemarvelousthings. Emily wrote this chapter so please go tell her you love it because she did it beautifully. Come let us know what you think, we’d love to hear from you.
Word count : 1,921

Read the previous chapter

Chapter 4

You stand nervously staring at the chipped red door of Bucky’s apartment building, the sound of Steve pressing the buzzer sounded around you as he steps back to stand next to you.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous” you mutter, clutching the six large sunflowers. You had your bag of planting tools slung over your shoulder as Steve carried the bag of fertilizer with ease.

“It’s just dinner with a friend (Y/N)” you look up at the slightly tight smile on Steve’s face and you swear you see a look of nerves pass across his face.

“Nothing to be nervous about” you nod, still fighting away the butterflies in your stomach as the door buzzes open gaining you entry. You both climb the stairs to Bucky’s apartment number that he had texted you earlier that day.

“I’m gonna grow old watching the two of you climb those stairs” you look up to see Bucky’s face grinning down at the two of you over the railings.

Keep reading

lifepostgrad  asked:

Imagine Claire tells Jamie that she and Frank slept in separate beds for 18 years. Jamie’s response is something to the effect of “that won’t be happening here.” Fast forward to “The Artemis” and Jamie is stomping around, grumpy because he and Claire can’t both fit in the bunk?

“All right,” Claire huffed. “I see your point. It’s not as easy as it looks.”

Her heart jolted at the simple, beautiful sound of Jamie’s laugh.

“Allow me.” Gently he placed his hands over hers on the lever of the printing press, pulling it all the way back with practiced ease.

And couldn’t help but kiss the shell of her ear, level with his nose.

Quickly she turned to face him, eyes bright with so much joy.

“At this rate you’ll never get that order done,” she teased, voice low.

He swallowed, framing her face with his hands, thumbs tracing over the impossibly graceful arches of her eyebrows. Eyes locked on hers as he – and then she – leaned in for a long, slow kiss.

“I can’t believe he actually said that to you.” Claire gingerly lifted a drying sheet from the line strung across the top floor of the printshop, squinting in the afternoon sunlight.

Somewhere down below, Jamie huffed. “The man is worse than the most uptight soldier I ever met in the British army. Wants to keep himself pure, he says – even to the brink of madness.”

She set the sheet back on the line and examined the next one. “I don’t suppose it ever crossed your mind to let him know that you spend most of your nights in a brothel, then?”

“I confess it wasna something I ever planned to bring up in polite conversation.” A soft, damp, smoky smell wafted up from the shop floor. “Though he did say that since he *had* gone *so far* out of his way to get the ash, he may as well give it to me. Immoral Papist that I am.”

“I can take a look at the goiter, you know. Recommend he eats more foods rich in iodine – that would shrink it, and if it doesn’t then I can even attempt a small surgery. Though – ”


She peered over the catwalk to see Jamie – Jamie! – spectacles perched at the edge of his nose, hands black with fresh ink, back hunched in pain.

“Jamie?!” Quickly she darted down the creaky wooden steps, just in time to brace him as a fresh spasm coursed through his body.

“S’all – right – Sassenach,” he grimaced, teeth clenched, chest heaving. “Chair – get me a – chair…”

Claire scrambled to drag a high-backed wooden chair from the corner toward the working table, and watched Jamie gratefully sink into it with a soft thud.

Hoisting her skirts out of the way, she knelt in front of him, two hands flat on the rough work apron tied around his chest, holding him steady.

“Breathe with me, Jamie.” She looked up to meet his eyes – creased almost into slits – until she knew he was watching. “In – there’s a good lad – and out. In – yes – and out. Calm down. In – hold – and out.”

The long column of his throat swallowed, and he flailed his ink-stained hands, not willing to soil her clothes.

“That’s right – there. Just there.”

Blissfully he closed his eyes, finally able to straighten his back. Breathing deep.

“Claire?” he rasped.

“Don’t scare me like that. I can help you with your back – ”

“Claire,” he repeated with a sigh. “Can ye please get me one of the rags in the bucket over in the corner? I need to clean my hands, and then I want to hold ye. Can ye do that?”

She swallowed and rose, kissing his clammy brow.

“Did you print those books yourself?”

Jamie chewed on the oatcake and looked over his shoulder, following Claire’s gaze to the small pile of volumes on his bookshelf, resting his free hand on her knee.

“I dinna print books like that just yet. Pamphlets, broadsheets, handbills I can do. Books are a whole other matter – I’d have to employ a binder. And that’s a headache I can afford to not have. For now.”

He turned back to face Claire – Claire! – smudges of ink still darkening the bonny skin of her shoulders. Christ, in this light he could see the marks he’d left on her neck the night before – and likely just added to significantly over the past half hour. Still, it was such a bonnie sight…

“So – pieces from your personal collection, then?”

“Just a few of my favorites. St. Augustine. Cicero. Montaigne.”

She smiled around her bite of cheese. “Of course. Light reading for just before bed.”

He set the half-empty tray down on the floor, drawing closer on the narrow mattress. Voice low, full of promise.

“The philosophers kept me company until I fell asleep. But now…”

His free hand reached out to tangle in her mad, wild curls.

How many times had he longed for – lusted for – the simple ability to just touch her?

“Now I dinna think I’ll ever read the philosophy or theology before bed again. Not now that I have much more…*pleasant* alternatives, Sassenach.”

She leaned forward, meeting his mouth with her own flurry of tiny kisses.

“Pleasant, is it?” she breathed, palms flat against his chest.

He reached forward – hungry – but she drew back, smiling, pushing him down to the mattress.

“Holy God,” he whispered, arms drifting downward to grip her hips.

“It’s no’ as comfortable as the bed last night, Sassenach, but I canna say I’ve any right to complain.”

Sprawled atop him, her entire length melting into his, arms locked around her sides to prevent her from crashing to the ground, she huffed against his shoulder.

“I’ve slept in a small bed like this for the past eighteen years, Jamie. I’ve plenty of practice.”

As much as was possible, he drew away to look into her eyes properly.

“Did…” His voice rumbled against her cheek, throat unexpectedly closing. Shy.

The pads of her fingers gently traced the angular shapes of his shoulders.

“Did…did Frank no’ give ye a proper bed to sleep in, then? I – I thought that wi’ him being a professor, and you being a doctor, you would have been fine wi’ money…”

He felt her flush scarlet against him.

“Damn it, I’m sorry, Claire,” he babbled, grip tightening. “I have no right to ask – ”

“We slept in separate beds, Jamie.” Her voice was far away – lost. Ashamed.

All the breath left his body.

“Christ,” he whispered. “Oh, *mo chridhe.* I’m sorry.”

Idly she ran her fingers through the hairs on his chest. “I tried to make it work until Brianna was about two. But every time I…I tried…” She sighed. “I saw you. I – I couldn’t…”

If he had clenched his jaw any tighter it would have broken through his skin.

“That will *never* be us, *mo nighean donn*,” he vowed, gently guiding her chin upward to meet his eyes. “Never.”

She smiled – though it didn’t reach her eyes – and kissed his chest.

“That’s in the past. I’m here with you, now.”

“That ye are.” He frowned – overcome with the most stunning realization.

“So – until…until ye came back to me, ye hadna lain wi’ a man in…in eighteen years?”

Her silence was all the answer he needed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She curled her ankles around his shins, hand slowly tracing a path toward his groin. “I’m not. It made me ready for you.”

She bit his chin, then his lower lip, then –


Jamie – limbs locked with Claire – rolled straight off the cot and onto the cold floor with a thud. He pushed Claire to the ground – crawled on top of her to protect her – and dug around in his pile of clothes for the wee knife that had come in handy more than once since he had settled in Edinburgh.

“Milord – ”

“What the devil, Fergus!” Jamie seethed, trying to push Claire behind him now, not caring about his own nakedness. “Can ye no’ see I’m busy?”

“You know what *les jeunes filles* always say, milord?” She didn’t need to see his face to know that a wide grin had formed. “That a man is happiest when he lets the woman take charge?”

“Thank you, Fergus.” Claire’s voice, muffled by Jamie’s arm and what was likely his trousers, held just the right mix of exasperation and love for this man who was the boy she had loved – mothered – so many lifetimes ago. “And a woman is happiest when she doesn’t allow her man to have such daft sleeping arrangements.”

The Maid

Originally posted by ram-me-bolton

Imagine: Being one of Ramsay’s maids and he has a thing for you.

Warnings: Smut/ if you’re uncomfortable with Ramsay fic you probably shouldn’t read this lol

You had a job that most would fear. You worked for Lord Ramsay Bolton, who had a notorious for his cruelty. You’ve witnessed some of the unspeakable acts he’s done yourself. Even just the bit you’ve seen would be enough to make the bravest man quiver.

Out of all the terrible things Ramsay has done, however, none of them were ever directed at you. He seemed to have a soft spot, albeit a very small one, for his maids. He never physically hurt any of you, though the other maids weren’t safe from his verbal abuse. You, however, he never said a word against.

“He totally has a thing for you, y/n,” Nyssa, one of your fellow maids, insisted. The topic came up again, as it always seems to, as you worked on cleaning the lord’s clothes. When Ramsay wasn’t cruel, it got people’s attention.

You shook your head dismissively. “I don’t believe so. Maybe I just haven’t done anything to upset him.”

The other maid, Marcelle, snorted. “Oh come on y/n, we both know it doesn’t take much to upset Ramsay. Anything can set him off, there is a reason why he’s never been angry at you,” she replied, her voice just a whisper. It would not be good to be caught taking badly about the lord.

“I just don’t see it,” you replied, hoping it would end the conversation. Of course it didn’t.

“Well I do,” Nyssa replied, “I’ve seen the way he’s looked at you. That man wants you.” You shrugged, keeping your head down so they wouldn’t see you blush. You tried to focus on getting the blood Ramsay’s shirt, which came form god knows what horrible act. As much as you hated to admit it, you found Ramsay very attractive. His strong, handsomely structured face, those piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be perfectly framed by dark curls.

It was useless, though, to think of him in that way. He was a lord and you were just a maid. Nothing would ever happen between the two of you, so why bother dreaming about it?

“Y/n,” a husky voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was one of Ramsay’s servants standing in the doorway. “Lord Bolton has requested you in his chambers.” You nodded, handing the shirt you had been cleaning to Marcelle, trying to ignored the smirks between her and Nyssa. You would never hear the end of this.

His servant led you to his chambers, though you knew the way. He opened the door for you, but did not follow you inside. Ramsay stood at the far end of the room, staring out the window into a cold, grey day.

“You requested to see me, my lord?” you asked softly. Ramsay turned, giving you one of his famous half smiles.

“I needed someone to make my bed,” he told you, motioning across the room to the twisted sheets on his bed.

“Of course, my lord,” you nodded, though you were confused. You knew Marcelle had already made it this morning. You didn’t dare question Ramsay, as kind as he was towards you, you would never push it. You guessed he could have had a women in his bed between then and now and went to work.

You leaned over the bed, trying to straighten out the mangled sheets. Suddenly, you felt Ramsay pressed against you form behind. The feeling startled you, causing you to lose your footing and fall onto the bed.

You scrambled to turn yourself over, scared you would annoy him. “My lord, I’m so sorry I-”

“Did I scare you?” Ramsay cut you off.

“It was my fault, my lord, I slipped,” you answered quickly, taking the blame.

“Are you scared of me, y/n?” He asked, his cool blue eyes locked on yours. He was watching you carefully.

“Of course not, my lord,” you replied.

He leaned in closer. “Don’t lie to me.” You shivered a little, feeling him so close to you.

You thought over your response carefully. “You have never done me any harm my lord, why should I fear you?”

“Do you know why I never hurt you, y/n?” Ramsay asked, his voice melting with softness.

“Because you’re kind, my lord,” you replied, eliciting a laugh from Ramsay.

“You and I both know that is not true,” he smiled, a hint of darkness flickering across his eyes. He reached up, gingerly pushing a lock of hair out of your eyes. “I’ve had my eye on you for some time now, y/n, and I’ve decided that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” A blush rose to your cheeks from the sweetness of his words.

“Thank you my lord, may I say that you are very handsome,” you told him.

Ramsay chuckled lightly. “I would be upset if you didn’t,” he teased. “I have one last question for you, y/n.” His fingertips brushed lighting over your arms, spreading goosebumps over skin.

“What is that, my lord?”

“Can I fuck you like I’ve been dreaming of for the past couple months?” his voice laced with lust.

“I would be upset if you didn’t,” you repeated his words back to him. He smirked, before attaching his lips to yours. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his hands exploring your body.

You ran your hands up his back, feeling the muscles of his back through his shirt. You twisted your fingers through his dark curls, something you’d always secretly wanted to do. Ramsay moved his lips down your body, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin of your neck. He yanked your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. Ramsay nipped at your collar bones, it was no surprised to you that he liked to use his teeth.

Finally he moved to your breasts, running his tongue along the soft tissue. You let out a soft moan under his touch. The sound excited Ramsay, you could feel his bulge pressing against your leg. He pulled your dress off completely, taking a second to admire your body.

“Better than I imagined,” Ramsay said, biting his lip.

“You imagine me naked often, my lord?” you smirked.

“You have no idea.” He dragged his finger over your heat, pulling a gasp from your lips. He slipped a finger into you, pumping it quickly. He used his thumb to press circles over your clit.

“Ramsay,” you moaned. You tensed for a second, nervous that calling him by his name may upset him.

“I love it when you say my name,” his voice a low, lusty groan. You relaxed again, feeling the pleasure building quickly.

“I-I’m close,” you gasped, as Ramsay’s fingers worked quickly against you.

“Oh, y/n, you’re not done yet.” Ramsay teased, removing his finger from you. He quickly rid himself of his clothes. Your eyes ran over his toned body, pausing at his hardened length. The sight of him alone sent a tingle down your spine.

Ramsay lined himself up to your aching entrance and pushed himself inside you. You let out a low hiss as you adjusted to his size. He immediately began thrusting into, establishing a quick pace. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself moving closer to the edge.

“Fuck Ramsay,” you moaned, clawing at his back as pounded into you.

“Cum for me, y/n,” Ramsay demanded. With one final hard thrust, you felt you orgasm take over your body, filling you with complete bliss. Seeing you quiver beneath him was enough to send him over the edge. He let out a deep growl as he released himself in you.

Once you both finished Ramsay rolled off you and pressed his lips to your forehead. “I think you will have to make my bed more often,” Ramsay smirked.

“I’d like that, my lord,” you replied with a smile. You both decided you needed to get back to work, or it would start to look suspicious, though Ramsay promised that it wouldn’t be long before you were together again. You couldn’t help by smile as you got dressed, your only worry now being how the hell you were going to face Nyssa and Marcelle.

a/n: requests are open!


pairing: jimin / foreign ♀ reader
word count: 2.8 k
genre: angst, romance
warnings: portraying the characters the way i need them to act for the fanfic, please don’t think it’s how they really are

i would really appreciate feedback! feedback is always great to get back on something you worked hard on! thank you for reading!


part two: values 

Originally posted by jikookdetails

Jimin sees her as he’s getting his makeup done. She’s talking to his manager, a bag is swung over her shoulder and he wonders if it’s heavy. It looks heavy. He doesn’t usually pay attention to the staff, but something about her makes him pause and direct his eyes at her. Perhaps it’s because she’s foreign, or maybe it’s because he’s never seen anyone carry themselves with an aura like hers. She seems confident with herself, standing tall and proud. He’s seen many foreigners carry themselves with lack of confidence, but he doesn’t blame them. They’re often oppressed in the society he grew up with. He shifts his eyes to her face and wonders how somebody could be gifted such a smile.

“Jimin, can you look at me for a second?” Jimin is pulled from his trance and looks at his makeup artist. He knows his cheeks are dusted with pink, but he plays it off. He sits still as the makeup artist blends the eyeshadow into the creases of his eyes, the eyes that society often looks down on. He can still see her in the corner of his eyes. She’s still talking to his manager, her mouth twisting into a smile as his manager says something and makes some hand motions towards him and the rest of the members. Jimin finally looks at her again at the same time her eyes direct themselves at him. They make eye contact for a second or two, small smiles are exchanged, and then she directs her attention to the others. She bows slightly as she introduces herself to the boys. Her Korean is fluent and Jimin wonders if his mother language has ever sounded as beautiful as it did coming out her mouth. She looks him in the eye again as she stands back up. He catches a glimpse of her ears before she pulls the hair that was put behind her ears back to frame her face. They’re tinted red.

He’s about to say turn red himself, wondering if it’s because of him but he can’t seem to catch her eyes again,. Jimin isn’t sure why, but his mouth goes dry.

Her name is y/n and she’s his age. She takes breathtaking pictures that land her a job with the famous and well-known BTS. Jimin can’t help but stare at her when she’s behind the camera and taking his picture. The way her hands curl around the camera has him thinking thoughts he shouldn’t be. The way her mouth moves and forms his name before giving him instructions on what to do make his toes curl. When she’s finished and bites her lip in concentration as she goes over the pictures she’s taken he wants to capture the moment and engraved it into his mind forever. It takes her a while to glance back at him again, and he almost stutters when she tells him it was nice working with him. Jimin ignores Namjoon snicker as Jimin returns the words. Y/n doesn’t say anything about his nervousness,  she just smiles at him and continues to look through her work.

It takes Jimin a lot of nerve to try to have a conversation with her, in fact, it’s Taehyung who has to invites her to watch them during practice one day so he can actually talk to her. She’s running late at first, and Jimin feels the disappointment pool in his chest at the thought that she wouldn’t show up. Taehyung is about to tell him that she probably ran into some last minute job, when she stumbled in, apologizing because she got lost on the way to their dorm. It takes all of Jimin’s willpower to not trip over his own two feet as he’s running through their choreography and she’s staring at him so intently.

After they’re done with practice he gets a chance to talk to her alone. The others members practically run out the room and Jimin takes the hint and sits next to her on the floor. “That was really amazing, Jimin.” She tells him, and it’s the first time that his name has come out of her mouth and it drives him completely insane. He feels his mouth go dry and can only manage to smile, a shaky smile, and he bring his water bottle to his mouth so his mouth doesn’t feel like the Sahara desert. They sit in an awkward silence for a couple of seconds and Jimin is hating himself for it before she opens her mouth again and makes a joke. It catches him off guard at first, but then it processes in his head that an angel is actually joking with him and the next thing he knows he’s laughing and she’s laughing, and it feels so natural to just sit there and talk to her.

By the end of the day Jimin scores her phone number. He stumbles into bed that day, exhausted from practice, but he has a smile on his face because one of the contacts in his phone reads her name.

The next month is spent texting her back and forth. Sometimes they’re short and simple, asking her how she’s doing and if she already ate but it feels like winning the lottery to him. They’re about to hit two months of texting when Jimin sees something overseas that reminds her of him. He’s about to text her when he accidentally calls her. He goes to hang up the phone, but hesitates. He wonders what her voice would sound like on the phone. He’s pondering the thought for too long because suddenly he hears a quiet “hello, Jimin?” and he’s suddenly stumbling to put the phone to his ear. She giggles when he says he accidentally called her, but he finds himself talking to her for the next hour. He has to hang up too soon for his taste, and he’s wondering how to ask if they can talk on the phone later, when she takes the step for him. “Call me later-when you can- okay, Jimin?” He promises he will, face flushed and thankful that she can’t see his nervous state.

Jimin is certain that he wants to be more than friends with her. It doesn’t take long before Jimin realizes that maybe she doesn’t want to be just friends either. She gives him affectionate nicknames and he catches her staring at him when he’s not staring at her directly. One time he even held her hand to help her with something and even when he was done helping her, her fingers were still laced with his.

When he finally works up the nerve to ask her out secretly and she says yes he can’t help but feel like everything is coming into place. After dating for a few months, he’s already meeting her parents when they come and visit her in Korea. Everything is going amazing, but that night where he kisses her goodbye at her apartment and she pulls back she asks him a question that he had been avoiding for months.

“When will I get to meet your family?”

Jimin was raised in a society that’s like any society- it has expectations and has a definition for the perfect citizen. He was raised in that society and was raised under a conservative household. He grew up having an imagine implanted in his head by society on what was beautiful and who was beautiful. He’d have his fair moments of feeling society weigh on him, but he noted that there were people who got a cold shoulder. Foreigners or anyone mixed always got a hard time. Jimin wasn’t as aware of the issue as he expanded his mindset and started visiting different countries and noted the beauty within everyone - no wonder what their race or ethnicity was.

But when he started dating y/n he acted like he didn’t know what he’s parents would say. He’d ignore the issue and act like he didn’t know the judgment that was going to be casted. He knew if they went public it would result in the same fashion.

When y/n would bring up the topic Jimin would just pretend he didn’t hear anything or just tell her “soon”. Y/n didn’t expect to go public, she respected Jimin and his career. She knew it would bring him problems and his company finally allowed him to date someone on the low, so who was she to complain, knowing who she was going to be dating since the start? But being introduced to his family was different. She didn’t need approval of her family to date Jimin, but she wanted him to meet them because she could picture her test of her life with Jimin. As months passed and they hit their one year anniversary she was starting to become insecure. Did he not love her? Did he think his parents wouldn’t like her?

Y/n had experienced a lot of oppression throughout her life, and it was no different in Korea. She knew her beauty wasn’t standard beauty in Korea and encountered plenty of ignorance. It never crossed her mind that Jimin might be one of those ignorant people. He treated everyone with respect. She didn’t think he was raised by ignorance either, because often ignorance raised ignorance. Sometimes though, people didn’t reflect the ignorance they were raised to believe.

The night Jimin’s mother surprised him at the dorms and she was there it was like she was finally getting what she wanted. She shot up from her seat on the couch, ignoring the pounding of her heart and her sweaty hands. She shook his mothers hand, who looked at her confused, but still introduced her herself. Y/n heart sank when she asked Jimin who she was, but shook it off, thinking that she probably didn’t recognize her. She was about to tell her what she was to her son, when Jimin, who had been quiet throughout their whole exchange, spoke up. “She’s no one, just one of the staff members.”

Y/n only had one second to react, before Hobi shot up from his seat and asked her if she could help him in the kitchen. He noted the way her lip started quivering. She was only in the kitchen for a minute. Hobi tried cheering her up, making up excuses, but she knew now. Knew that Jimin was ashamed of their relationship.

“I think I’m going to head home.” She finally spoke, running her shaky hand through her hair. Hoseok looked at her, pity evident in his expression, before nodding. “You want me to say something to Jimin?” Y/n shook her head.

The ride back to her apartment was quiet and she wondered why she turned off the radio when one of her boyfriends songs came on.

She wouldn’t make eye contact with him when he showed up to her apartment the next morning. He had called her before she slipped into bed, chest feeling heavy and foggy, but she had ignored his call. He had messaged her after that, but she didn’t bother checking to see what it was. She looked the bedroom door in case he used his spare key to come in at night. Around midnight she was woken up by the door jiggling. She heard him softly curse. She saw the shadow of his feet in the crack underneath the door, but she still didn’t say anything. She just rolled over and continued to sleep.

He eventually left and came back the next morning. He didn’t bring up anything, just continued to act like nothing had happened. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything either, only nodded and responded to his questions with one word. Jimin knew she was upset, but he still didn’t say anything. He continues to fill the silence with small talk that seemed to get more desperate. Y/n would just nod, curling herself on the other end of the couch, arms hugged to her side. Jimin hesitated, but knew he had to do something. He inched closer and moved to touch her arm, but stopped when he saw her wince when his hand came in contact with her skin. He pulled back his hand and finally couldn’t bring himself to say anything else.

His throat burned with the need to belt out something. The ache in his chest was getting stronger and all he wanted to do was make things better. But he knew she wasn’t stupid. His parents knew that he was dating someone. But he had always avoiding showing them a picture of who and gave them them y/n’s nickname. That night when his mom showed up, y/n had stated her name, and he felt ashamed to feel relieved when his mother didn’t recognize her by her name. And he had blurred out those words before he could even think. He knew he had screwed up when he noticed the slight quiver of y/n’s mouth. But he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t say anything for weeks to come. He tried distancing himself from y/n for a bit to clear his head and decide how he could possibly explain himself, but when he finally realized that he was with y/n because he was the one that loved her, it was too late.

She had been waiting for him when he texted her that he was coming over. He knew instantly what was going to happen when she looked up at him and her expression was bare.

“I can’t be with someone who’s ashamed of me.”

He didn’t have time to think, she was telling him to leave her apartment within a couple seconds before she said the sentence that burned itself into his head for the following weeks. Jimin still didn’t say anything as the door slammed on his face and he was thrown into the complete silence y/n had experience those weeks ago when she was driving back home from his dorms.

Jimin doesn’t see her for weeks. He calls and texts her for the first week, but then tells himself to give her space. She has the right to be upset, after all. But when more than three weeks pass and she isn’t answering the messages or calls from their mutual friends who he starts getting worried. He uses his connections and finds out she hasn’t been able to work for the past two days.

He can’t but think something is wrong and ends up at her apartment. He still has the spare key to her apartment, and he’s surprised to see that it still works with her lock. He wonders if that means he still has a chance, but it dwindles when he goes in and her apartment is empty.

His chest is burning when he gets back into his dorm. He reaches for his phone and calls the only person he can now and can’t help but let out a sob he has been holding in since the moment he realized he had lost her.

‘Mom, I messed up.”

Y/n was moving into her new apartment when she heard a knock on her door. She was expecting a friend, so she opened the door before even checking to see who it was. Her eyes fell when she caught the sight of Jimin’s mom standing in her doorway. She was carrying some type of food in a plastic bag. Her eyes were red and puffy and y/n felt a pang of panic hit her.

“Is Jimin okay?” She instantly asked. Jimin’s mom looked at her, really looked at her. Y/n’s heart fell, expecting bad news, but instead her name left Jimin’s moms mouth. She went in without an invitation and sat in her couch nervously.

“I should have known it was you. When I came in that day, he was looking at you like you gave him a reason to live. I feel so stupid. My child has been suffering because he thought I’d disapprove. But I don’t. I would never disapprove of the woman my son chooses to love.” She goes to grab y/n’s hand and squeezes it.

“I’m sorry about this. I never realized that the way I let society and our beliefs impact him this way, I-” her eyes began to mist over and she was crying again.

“Please. Just talk to him. He wouldn’t say anything but your name. I just knew what had occurred, but he just couldn’t stop crying.”

Jimin’s mom didn’t say much after that. She simply wiped her eyes, handed her the bag of food, and told her that she was welcomed to her home anytime.

Y/n’a eyes drifted to the bag in her hand and when she opened it she was hit with the orama of her favorite dish. It was a traditional dish in her native country. Her mouth fell open slightly and she couldn’t help but blink rapidly, trying to avoid crying.

She didn’t know what to think anymore, but she knew she had to talk to him.

among peasantry and princes part ii

part i 

summary -  virgil, his brothers patton and logan, and their mother octavia live a quaint life of peasantry in a small village far away from the rest of civilization. their lives are hardly out of the ordinary — that is, until a prestigious prince with an ego so large it outmatches even his castle takes an interest in virgil, which can surely only end in disaster. 

word count - 2,474

warnings - yelling, mentions of anger issues 

tags - human!au, prince!roman, peasant!virgil 

a/n - ahh okay i’d just like to thank you all for the overwhelming support on this au!! seriously you guys are amazing and i hope this chapter meets your expectations! (if you would like to be tagged/i forgot to tag you let me know!)

tagging - @ace-anxiety-sanders @pointless-blog-name @lampisimportant @pippa-frost @jinxed-unicorn @starrykid @pattykrabbies @alright-cupid @madelynna @extremepenguin10 @justanotherpurplebutterfly @neganslittlebae @sparkss654 @aikastrum @the-prince-and-the-emo @parsnipit @infpqueen @pantton-sandacers @nimblelizard @gaysonofjafar @max-exe @genderqueerwriter @sweaterxsleeves @virgilssanders @blogfamousbouquetzombie @trainer-of-mischief @fangirlfiles1 @xvirgilx @twinkly-lights @sumkindofaesthetic @call-me-origami @m-bumblebee @immortalpoptart @evil-queens-rule @panders-sides @blog-mrs-hemsworth-universe @xxlovelarryalwaysxx @raiseaglasstofreedom @amateurartist123 @neganslittlebae @mevv618 @madelynna @camfangirl0615 @yoshimicherryopal @tssanderssidestrash @get-those-fandoms @queer-ax @satisfied-sanders-sides @eatanarwhalfordinner @averaillisa @littlesnowflake @watch-me-introvert @multifandom-slytherin

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Toothbrush - L.H.

Okay…so I (obviously) got this idea from listening to Toothbrush from DNCE. I’ve also decided I want to update every Friday so every time I finish something, I’m just going to queue it up. Enjoy

Also…I know I said no more Luke pieces for awhile, but this literally came to me in class and I wrote it in fifty minutes so….

Luke woke up early from the sunlight pouring in through the window on the other side of the room, body still bare from the night before, the only thing covering him being the stupid little close to nothing sheet resting on his hips. His bright blue eyes fluttered open slightly, heart sinking as he sat up confused as to why the body next to him had disappeared at such an early hour of the day, the clock reading a mere 6:17 in the morning, no longer confused when he heard the toilet flush from the bathroom just down the hall…unless it was Ashton of course since he was the usual prospect that would be up this early in the morning.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, bringing his palms down over his face rubbing the tiredness from them slightly as he waited for his lover to return to the room.

“You’re up early,” she mumbled seeing him awake as she leaned up against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest as she looked over the tired man’s features, a lazy smile gracing his perfectly pouted lips. She had on his torn Nirvana tee, the fabric falling to the tops of her thighs, and with the way she was leaning against the frame, he could see her favorite pair of navy blue panties from Victoria’s Secret. Her feet were still bare, probably having lost her socks in his sheets through the night, as she always did, even though she refused to take them off before falling asleep. He’d always loved her sense of style, but he always thought she looked best dressed in his shirt with no pants on laying in his bed.

Her hair was still a mess, sticking up slightly in awkward directions, most likely extremely tangled and in desperate need of a pound of his conditioner to comb out the knots before she left. Her eyeliner had run across the side of her face lightly and he was sure there was glitter on his pillows from her eye shadow as well, small love bites gracing the length of her neck, small enough for him to miss if she had her hair styled the right way covering them perfectly. It was a sight he always loved, even if she did look like a hot mess. She was his hot mess.

“Luke, are you listening to me?” she asked smirking slightly knowing he wasn’t. He never was when he was looking at her like that…not that she knew exactly what that look on his face was, but she knew it enough to know he was lost in his train of thought.

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he hummed leaning back against his pillows, arms making their way behind his bed as his muscles shifted slightly, eyes daring her to make her way back to bed with him, and she knew she would. “Close the door love.”

She did as she was told, feet padding softly against the dark, hardwood floors as she climbed into bed right over to him, swinging her leg over his hip so she was straddling him, as placed strategically against his pelvis, knowing damn well if she wanted to at any point in time she could change the entire mood.

“What were you saying?” he asked, hands making their way to her thighs rubbing the soft, bare skin lightly leaving goosebumps behind.

“I said I can’t stay long. I’m working at eleven,” she said running her nails down his chest lightly, up and down, over and over, Luke shivering slightly at the feeling.

“That reminds me..I need to talk to you,” he mumbled, hands slowly making their way to her hips as he ran his thumbs in small circles under the fabric of his shirt along her bare skin.

“What about, rock star?” she asked, brows furrowing together confused, not sure if she should be worried or not. Usually he’d just come out and say it, not making it a big deal unless it was something important.

“Well…I mean…we’ve been doing this for what…five months now…?” he asked stumbling over his words as she giggled slightly.

“Six,” she she said smirking slightly. “Where are you going with this Lu?”

“Well, I was thinking…that maybe you could like…leave some of your stuff here so when you do have to go in the morning you don’t have to leave so early…” he suggested making her heart melt as she smiled softly at him. “Like..maybe that coconut shampoo you have or your toothbrush…”

“And maybe some clothes considering I can’t really work in your tee and panties,” she teased as he blushed more. “You’re too cute, you know.”

“Are you going to answer me or just make fun of me?” he pouted as she leaned in pecking his lips quickly.

“I’ll bring them over when I see you tonight.”


Brett x Reader x Peter Hale

Requested by @nekodalolita

Brett Talbot Masterlist

Teen Wolf Masterlist

“What in the holy hell is this?” you glared at Brett with narrowed eyes, rage almost burning in your orbs as you pointed towards a badly built up tent, the wind almost making the thin fabric it was made of blowing away.

Brett chuckled and cocked his head. “It’s your ‘home sweet home’ for the night.” he casually anseered and pushed you firther when you hesitated on approaching it. 

“That’s so not funny—“ you began and kicked in the snow. “It’s freezing outside and you can’t expect me to gladly walk into that tent.” Your complaints were the last drop for Brett; he growled before taking a firm grip around your forearm, dragging you with him the last bit.

“Stop nagging.” was the only thing Brett mumbled when he was able to get you in front of the tent, kneeling down to open the zipper to the opening before you yank you arm back.

“There’s NO way in hell that I’m going to sleep in there. I’m going to freeze to death!” Brett snapped his head up to you and he didn’t look as kind as he usually did. Without a single word, he rather forced you to step into the tent, dragging you by one of your ankles.

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you’re not in love with her // theo raeken

pairings: theo reaken x reader

warnings: none

prompt: x

a/n: I am so in love with this and I hope you guys enjoy this. ♡

if yelling at her in an argument doesn’t make your throat burn like you just downed 6 shots, you’re not in love with her.

He stood there in front of her, Warm tears streaming down her cheeks.

“You can’t keep acting like this Theo;” She said in a raspy voice.

He glared at her with his jaw clenched, His breath heaving.

“You can’t go punching every guy that speaks to me.”

“That guy was flirting with you Y/N, What did you expect me to do? Sit back and watch him check you out?”

“He wasn’t flirting with me and even if he was do you really think I could ever think about being with any one else but you?”

“I can’t take that risk Y/N, You’re mine and he needed to know that.” He said slightly raising his voice.

“Risk? Don’t you trust me to stay loyal to you? And how exactly am I yours? I’m not just a piece of property you own Theo!” Y/N said raising her voice as her blood boiled.

“You’re mine cause we’re in a relationship Y/N! And I can’t stand to see some other guy try to take you away from me!” He said practical shouting.

His throat was sore and burned in his neck, He felt sick to his stomach. He hated shouting at her, Fighting with her, Watching her tears stream down her cheeks and her lips quiver.  Her eyes welt up with tears again, Every time Theo would raise his voice on her she got scared, It would wreck her seeing the man she loved shouting at her in front of her.

“Damn it.” He said quietly before pulling Y/N quickly into his embrace and wrapping his arms tightly against her body, Her hands were pressed against his chest as she sobbed softly into the crook of his neck.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I hate seeing you like this.” He said hugging her even tighter as he caressed his hand along her back soothingly.

“Then please stop acting like this, For me.” You said quietly as your breathing slowed down.

“I will, I promise.” He said kissing the top of her head.

if her eyes can’t make you stop in your tracks and think about what you’re going to say next, you’re not in love with her.

“Are you coming over after school today?” Theo asked as he leaned against a locker next to Y/Ns locker watching her exchange her books.

“Yeah, I always do T.” She chuckled.

“But why?” She asked smiling at him.

“I u-uh-“ He said looking in awe into her Y/E/C coloured eyes, He was mesmerised, As if he went into type of trance he couldn’t snap out of, Looking deep into the eyes of the girl that he fell in love with, Looking into the eyes that were the reason for him to get up in the morning, Looking into the eyes that could make his whole fucking day just by looking at them once.

She raised her brow at him with a small grin playing on her lips as he shook his head slightly to get back to what he wanted to say.

“I just want to spend some time with you.” He smiled as she closed her locker and held his hand in hers as they both started walking the halls.

“What was that about?” She asked him softly.

“Nothing, I-I just love your eyes, They’re beautiful.” He smiled down at you.

if her laugh doesn’t make you tense up your knuckles thinking about never hearing it again, you’re not in love with her.

He was sitting up against the couch in her living room with Y/N resting against him, Her head resting gently against his shoulder and her hand laying softly on his clothed stomach, His arm resting around her shoulder keeping her body close to him. They were both cuddled up in each others embrace watching a movie. Although Y/N was paying most of her attention into the movie Theo would often sneak glances at her, Looking down at the girl he would do anything for her just so she could have that beautiful smile on her lips.

Y/N let out a small laugh from the movie and Theo glanced down at her, Feeling the small vibrations that radiated from her chest to his side. He looked down at the smile playing on her lips, The small dimples that appeared on her cheeks, The way her nose crinkled ever so slightly when she laughed. Her laugh, Even the smallest chuckle would always be music to his ears, It never failed to cheer him up or make his day but looking at her now he felt anxiety creep up in his chest, In the back of his mind he thought about what would happen if her laugh disappeared, About what would happen if he could never hear that beautiful sound play in his ears again.

His arm pulled her closer to his side as his other hand curled up into a fist, She quickly glanced up at him noticing his actions.

“Everything okay?” She asked softly looking up into his crystal blue eyes.

“Yeah.” He said quietly before leaning down to press a soft kiss on her lips, He could hear her heart skip a beat and a smile play on her lips when he pulled away, She cuddled closer to him inhaling his intoxicating scent, He never failed to cause her heart to skip a beat.

if her voice can’t calm down your worst anxiety attacks  and makes you want to listen to anything she has to say, you’re not in love with her.

She looked at him intensely as he paced  around in her bedroom, His chest heaving and his breathing is in an uneven pace.

“I-I can’t do this, It’s to much for me.” He said as his hands shook when he brought one of them up to run it though his hair.

“Babe you need to calm down, Everything is okay.” Y/N said softly as she walked closer to him causing him to stop pacing and look at the girl standing in front of him.

“Every thing is not okay, Nothing is okay Y/N.” He said shaking, A worried look in his eyes as he started walking towards the bathroom learning against the sink, His hand clutching the edges so hard his knuckles were starting to turn white, His chest was heaving up and down and his eye were flashing quickly between amber and blue, His breathing was heavy and loud.

“Hey hey, Every thing is okay, just listen to my voice.” She said approaching him, His hand pressed against his back.

“I need you to go I can hurt you Y/N.” He said as his eyes turned amber.

“I’m not leaving you, You won’t hurt me.”

“I-I won’t forgive myself if I did, I need you to leave.” He growled.

“Look at me.” You said softly as you grabbed his face in your hands. He just stared intensely at you, Seeing all of your features up close.

“I need you to listen to my voice can you do that for me?” She said softly.

He just nodded as his eyes closed, He tried focusing on her voice.

“I’m here, With you. I won’t leave you; Not now not ever, Okay?” She said looking at him, Her hands still cupping  his cheeks.

He just nodded as he stayed focused on her soft and soothing voice.

“You’re going to get through this, And I’ll be with you through it all. I love you Theo and I need you to calm down for me.” She said caressing his cheek with her thumb softly. His breathing had slowed down and he regained his control, His eyes opened up to reveal the bright blue eyes that Y/N loved.

“You okay?” She asked giving him a small smile.

“Yes, T-Thank you.” He smiled at her as she returned him a wide smile before pressing her lips against his lips ever so gently but even then they could both feel the sparks between them, The electricity running through their body from the slightest touch, The way their heart fluttered when their lips were pressed against each other.

if her smile doesn’t make your chest quake and your lungs shrink but feel refreshed all in one motion, you’re not in love with her.

Theo eyes flickered open as he adjusted to the soft light filling his bedroom, He looked to his side to find Y/N sound asleep, Laying on her stomach with her head laying on her hands that were tucked under her pillow, or more so Theos pillow. He admired her for a couple of minutes, How she had a couple of single strands of hair framing her face, How her smooth and pouty lips were slightly parted and how she looked to so breathtaking without any makeup on her.

He turned onto his side and brought his hand up to her back softly stroking small patterns on to the small area of exposed skin she had. His actions quickly woke her up as her eyes opened up and close back again as she inhaled a deep breath.

“Good morning.” She managed to say quietly as her eyes opened up slowly to meet Theos gaze.

“Good morning baby girl.” He smiled down at her before pressing a soft kiss onto her forehead. He pulled back to see her look at him with pure adoration in her eyes and a smile playing on her pink lips. Seeing her smile first thing in the morning was one of the reasons if not the reason for Theo to get up in the morning, Her beautiful smile was enough to make his breath hitch in his throat and make his heart race, But even then her smile sent a calm wave through him.

“Have I ever told you that I love your smile?” He said to her in a his raspy voice.

“No I don’t think you have.” She chuckled softly as her smile only grew wider.

“Then I’m telling you know that I love your smile, And that seeing it makes my whole fucking day.” He said bringing his hand up to stroke her cheek gently.

“Really?” She asked biting her lip.

“Really.” He said as he pulled her closer to him by her waist before leaning down to connect their lips in a loving but passionate kiss.


Originally posted by kths




                                                  What are you?

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“I Can’t Help Fallin’ In Love”

Request: Hey love :) I hope I can give you an idea for an imagine. You and buck live together in his Apartment in Bucharest and you’re really happy but he feels bad one day cause he can’t give you a better live. Then later that day you prepare something romantic and you cuddle together while you reassure him how much you love him and that you wouldn’t want another life. Sooo he feels better and you even share a Little make-out session but it’s mostly cuddling that night and just fluff? :)

Warnings: angst, then fluff, drunk driving situation

Word Count: 1877

A/N: one of four requests! hopefully this is what you wanted! i might have veered a little. i will work on the other ones this week! if you wanna be on my taglist shoot me an ask! please leave feedback. dont drive when youve been drinking. the title comes from “I Cant Help Falling In Love With You” originally by Elvis but my favorite version is by Haley Reinhart

Originally posted by v-writings

She moved to Bucharest after she lost everything. She needed a fresh start. Y/N never knew that fresh start would involve falling in love with a kind-hearted ex assassin. James Buchanan Barnes, that beautiful bastard. He was everything Y/N had ever dreamed in a man. He was the man a father would love for his daughter to have. Too bad Bucky didn’t see that.

Her parents were killed in a car accident along with her little brother, he was only ten years old. A drunk driver ran a red light and crashed directly into their car. That night she lost everything that ever mattered to her. She sold everything she owned, her bakery included. She backed the few things she had and bought a plane ticket out of the only state and country she had ever known.

Bucharest, Romania, the place she picked to start her new life. She didn’t speak Romanian and she had no idea around the city, but it’s exactly what she needed. She wanted the refreshing feeling of learning new things and meeting new people. No one here would look at her with pity or sympathy. She was just an all-American girl looking for her own happy ending.

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