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dadsbongos · 3 years

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Liebeskummer

Movie/Game/Show: Danganronpa: Killing Harmony Dynamic: Korekiyo Shinguji/Reader (and his sister shit but i actually take it seriously, unlike kodaka) Warnings: korekiyo’s backstory/trauma (his sister), sexual/physical/mental abuse implications (and outright said but not described in detail except the emotional and mental), anxiety in both kork and reader and mental breakdown(s?), airhead shit but it’s sad Summary: It’s all her fault. ~~~

Korekiyo suddenly turned to the girl beside him in his quiet research lab, “Have you ever heard of Jack of Fables, (Y/n)?” at her, albeit confused, nod, he continued, “Well, all those myths, fairy tales, and even nursery rhymes in reference to ‘Jack’ are actually about the same man. What this means is that Jack Be Nimble, of the candlestick, Jack the Giant Killer, who sold his cows then murdered and robbed a giant, Stingy Jack, who tricked the devil so relentlessly that he was banned from both afterlives, Jack of Jack and Jill, who cracked open his skull, Jack o’ Lantern, Spirit of Halloween and Headless Horseman, and Jack Frost, Spirit who ends autumn and begins winter are all one in the same. He made so many poor life decisions that he now serves as an immortal representation of winer with a pumpkin serving as head and flashlight. Is that not fascinating?”

“Aw,” (Y/n) grinned, nodding once again, “Like the American ‘Florida man’.”

Korekiyo sighed, disappointment palpable in his tone, “That is… actually much more accurate than I wish to admit.”

“Wait, wait,” she tilted her head, patting the man’s arm despite his attention already being on her, “So… like, was he also Jack the Ripper…?”

His eyes widened at her statement, “(Y/n), I must be grateful you were not born to the life of a woman of the night in Victorian London because I assure you, Jack the Ripper was incredibly real.”

“Oh, that’s so sad…” she pouted before clearing it back into her usual smile almost instantly, “Well, thanks for the folklore fun fact, Kiyo! I didn’t know that Jack was so dumb! God, I’d hate to be like him…”

“You do realize you’re not so bright yourself, yes?”

She shrugged, “I’m fine with that, but at least I’m not tricking the devil!”

So sweet and kind, the Ultimate Composer was. Against all expectations, she wasn’t highbrow or traditionally genius, but she was more than excellent company. And, to top it off, the idea of turning her into one of Sister’s friends was oddly… sickening.

It should’ve been perfectly fine - she was a deeply respectable young woman unlike Miu and Maki, there’s no reason he could have against her.

It just felt wrong.

“Oh! Oh!” she burst out, clapping her hands together, before turning and reaching into a bag slung around her hip. Rooting through scrapped sheet music and notes, once she found what she’d been searching for she held it up excitedly, “Boom!”

Korekiyo took the item, just barely brushing his wrapped fingertips against hers, “Cleopatra’s Pearl Cocktail… much appreciated,” he pressed the small bottle into a pocket on his uniform, “If you enjoy giving gifts, perhaps we can discuss cultural gift-giving practices?”

“Ooh, Kiyo’s gonna teach me?”

“Hmm,” Korekiyo hummed quietly to himself, “Well, perhaps… you would prefer I tell you of a composition piece in relevance to mythology, yes?”

“That’d be nice,” the girl giggled softly, rubbing the back of her neck, “To be honest, I just like when you talk… you sound so smart all the time!”

“My thanks, (Y/n),” he nodded curtly, muttering to himself before coming to speak up, “Alright, I believe that the composition for you would be The Ring of the Nibelung, of Germany.”

“Oh, I know that one!” she knew most ‘ones’, to be fair.

“I had suspected so, but have you heard of the heroic legends behind the pieces?”

“Ah, no… are those what you’re gonna explain?”

“I had planned to, yes. Alright, well, the four parts, as you know, are The Rhinegold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Nowadays, they are most commonly played as individual, separate works despite making one complete story. They were always intended as a sequence - as The Ring cycle, cleverly. Each piece revolves on a loose basis to German heroic tales and Norse legendary sagas, with the overarching tale of the magic ring forged by the Nibelung dwarf, Alberich, which grants the power to rule the world,” he paused at the sight of (Y/n) yawning, his lips pursed and eyes shot down to his shoes before flickering back up to the girl, “Ah, my apologies for taking far longer than necessary. You must find this- “

“Ah, no!” (Y/n) shook her head, waving her hands about as though it would physically prove how far from needed his apology was, “That’s not it! I’m just kinda tired, ya know?” as if to prove her point, another yawn washed over her, “I hadn’t slept well last night after Kirumi…”

“I see,” Korekiyo nodded, closing his eyes to think over his words, “I apologize for making it about myself. If you wish, I could walk you to your dormitory. Now that you mention it, it has been quite the long day.”

“You don’t have to, Kiyo, I’d hate to bother you so much in one day let alone one sitting,” the composer puffed her cheeks out, “That’d be so obnoxious…”

“I don’t find it obnoxious whatsoever, especially if it’s to aid- “ he hesitated, “to aid a friend.”

He hadn’t had friends before. People usually found him creepy and that was the end of the story - nobody approached him and he didn’t branch out. Life went on. The world spun. His loneliness was everlasting and yet nonexistent. He has Sister. Though, deep down, he knows. She’s on another plane of reality with loneliness stronger than his, that’s why he sends her respectable young women.

Just like (Y/n).

But just… not (Y/n). For reasons he personally chooses to not disclose to even himself.

“Aww, Kiyo! You care!” the girl placed a hand over her heart as if to show that the organ itself was squeezing in delight at his offer.

“Of course, I do,” Korekiyo didn’t like how quiet she made him. How jittery and nervous. And he didn’t like how it made him question the way Sister made him feel.

She also made him nervous but it felt different. He liked to pretend it was the nervousness of a love you don’t quite have yet, but he fully knows he’d be lying. She was a mean girl, a bully in school before being hospitalized. Prone to violent and outright frightening outbursts when she had the energy to do more than force him to her side.

But he didn’t like questioning those feelings for Sister. Who he was, was based on her. His uniform. His passion and talent. His hair. His perfect complexion. His life as the universe knows it is an ode to her.

It’s too late for him to go back now… he’s already done so much in her name it’d be cruel to give up now. He might as well continue for Sister.

“If you really don’t mind, then yeah, I’d like it if we could walk together… I get a little nervous going around at night, you never know who’s gonna snap…”

“And you trust me?”

Shit. That’s what gets him in trouble. It’s as Sister always said. ‘Too naive to make his choices, and once he’s free, too inept to make the right ones.’

“Well, yeah,” (Y/n) spoke as if there was hardly any thought to the answer, “All you’ve shown me is somebody worth trusting,” then, she’s quick to remember poor Kaede, “Well, maybe I’m being silly. But hey, if I have to choose between dying trusting my friends and paranoid beyond myself, then maybe I’d- “ she paused, “Ehhh, I don’t like the way that’s coming out.”

“I understand what you’re attempting to say,” Korekiyo reassured, turning towards his research lab’s exit, “Let us start towards the dormitories, yes?”

“Right!” (Y/n) nearly found herself jogging to catch up to Korekiyo’s long-strided head start, she clutched the strap of her bag as she did so, “So… you heard about Angie’s plan, right?”

“To perform a resurrection?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” she seemed antsier than was typical for her, “I mean, you’re into anthropology, so, like, has there ever been a case where that did work? Do you know?”

“No, besides, that would be more akin to history, remember?” she probably didn’t, her memory failed her at an ungodly amalgamation of best and worst of times.

“Oh, yeah,” she murmured and nodded, pretending to recall the difference between the two.

“Who would you desire back into this game, if you could?”

“Rantaro,” her answer was quick, her fingers looping together nervously, “We didn’t really talk much, but uhm, whenever we did - he was really nice. He said I reminded him of a sister of his… so that’s a good thing, right?”

Depends on who you ask, really.

“You grew attached to him so quickly?” there was no jealousy there, he tried to convince himself.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I’d gotten to know him more. He was always running around, trying to save us, and in the end… it got him killed.”

A lot of things will get you killed.

Korekiyo shook off the thoughts racking his brain, “Your care for him even through his estrangedness and peculiarity is truly beautiful, (Y/n),” he fiddled with the locket piece hanging around his shoulders, “Even your care for myself. I’d be lying if I’d said it wasn’t endearing.”

“You’re not…” her words died out, not wanting to lie to a dear companion of hers, “You’re a little off-putting but you’re not undeserving of love, Kiyo.”

It was a complete 180 from what Sister had told him his entire life. A new lesson coming in far too late. He had to earn love. He should’ve been crawling on his knees and pleading for affection, but now he was supposed to simply receive it? It sounded so incredibly fake. A fictitious tale told alongside gumdrop fairies and candy trees.

No place for someone of realistic standard.

No place for him.

“You’re far too kind, (Y/n).”

“Maybe you just haven’t known nice people,” she suddenly stopped, slapping a palm to her mouth and muffling against it, “I’m so sorry!”

“Worry not,” Korekiyo continued walking, “I’m unphased.”

Because maybe it was true.

Maybe Sister wasn’t so nice.

There was an itch at his skin in the thought and he shook his head.

Sister was kind enough to love someone like him. Who was of rotted soul and rancid heart.

“I shouldn’t have just said that, especially since I don’t really know your life…”

“Would you like to learn it someday?”

(Y/n) was fairly shocked at how quickly he seemed to breeze by her insult to his family and friends - well, if he had any friends - but she wouldn’t refuse. It was extra time with Korekiyo! Who could turn that down?

“I’d love to.”

“Tea and cookies,” (Y/n) pumped a fist in the air, “What could be better than enjoying those with a friend?”

Korekiyo felt his lips twitch up behind his mask at the rhetorical question, he reached out for his teacup, “Perhaps freedom from this killing game?”

“Oh, yeah, huh…” she deflated, “Jeez, I can’t believe I’d say that…”

Oh, great, of course, now he’s gone and made the local ball of sunshine in this school upset.

“Nevermind that, (Y/n), it was a tease…” he gripped the cup a little tighter, cheeks heating up in humiliation at his failed joke, “I apologize if it seemed like anything other than such.”

“No, don’t apologize, it’s fine! It was kind of a dumb thing to say, now that I put some brain into it,” so it made sense she’d said it, (Y/n) frowned at the bitter thought.

“Ah,” the clink of a cup against the table caught the girl’s attention, “I must change my mask in order to properly enjoy this tea and these cookies,” as the anthropologist went to turn, he was stopped by another outburst from the girl.

“No, don’t! Uh, here!” she clenched her eyes shut, papped her palms over her face, and turned her head downwards, “See? Now I can’t!”

“You don’t have to go to such lengths, I could simply turn- “

“No, no, I want you to feel comfortable and I heard once that doing things to make your friends comfortable is, like, a way to make them like you more?” she huffed at the wording, “Just, I don’t know… I want you to know that I care. Ya get it? No need to turn yourself away like that when I can just not look.”

A tuft of air passed through his nostrils at the girl.

Sister would adore a friend like her.

Korekiyo pulled down his mask, brows drawn tight towards his eyes at the new realization. It was no longer a matter of her being respectable, it was now the knowledge that someone as tender-hearted as (Y/n) would be loved beyond comprehension by Sister.

But… no. Sister couldn’t have her. She’d understand, right? Of course. She could have someone else - the other bubbly girl, what’s her name? Angie. She could have Angie.

Korekiyo just… he just needed (Y/n). Something about her was calming and sweet. He picked his mask for eating from a pocket in his uniform and carefully adjusted it over his lips so as to not smudge his lipstick. It wouldn’t anyway, he knew this, but it usually never backfired to be too sure.

The lipstick in itself was quite the hassle. Another homage to Sister that she might not even be seeing. So was the hair. It got tangled and knotted and was hell to dry after a shower.

“Not to rush you at all, but are you done? Cuz my eyes are starting to hurt… I think I’m squeezing them too hard.”

“Right, yes, I am.”

He really shouldn’t think like that… Sister deserved to be honored.

As if she’d been reading his mind, (Y/n) leaned over slightly, pointing at Korekiyo’s hair, “Hey, hey, how do you manage that? It always looks so silky and soft and well-kept.”

“Ah, well, it is quite troublesome most days, but with patience and rather expensive products, I keep it together.”

“I was wondering, too, do you ever put it up?”

“Not usually, though, that would be… nice on occasion,” he sipped at his tea, enjoying the way (Y/n) shyly glanced away to prove she didn’t want to invade his privacy. She was too delightful to be in a place such as this, even if he did enjoy the beauties of law-absence.

“Uh, I don’t want to come off pushy or like you have to let me, but if you want, I’d love to put your hair up! To be honest, I’ve been wanting to for a while,” her eyes widened at her own statement, “Oh, that sounded creepy. I’m so sorry.”

“I am hardly one to judge,” he reached over for a cookie, “But, if you’re so inclined, I won’t protest.”

“Yay!” she bounced slightly in her chair, “Oh, that’s great, Kiyo, thanks.”

“Shall we go to your dorm after finishing our refreshments?”

“I’d like that,” (Y/n) grinned.

And to think she almost didn’t approach Korekiyo on that first day in the school. How ridiculous could she have been to judge based on looks? Sure, he was a little strange and the way he spoke was unlike any teenager she’d ever met, but he was still a person. He deserved to be given companionship.

Besides, he’d only ever shown her kindness and support.

He didn’t even make fun of her when she said something stupid in front of everyone.

She cringed at the memory of every time Kokichi or Miu or Maki prodded at her. Even Ryoma and Kaito had picked on her when she misspoke during the first trial and just brought up a point the class had already proven. It made her heart wrinkle and shrink at the mere thought. Kokichi still made fun of her for questioning Tsumugi’s whereabouts during Rantaro’s murder.

“You’re staring into your tea, it will grow cold if you only look at it.”

“Oh, yeah,” shaking her head, (Y/n) silently cursed herself for spacing out. What an awful habit of hers, it was, “Sorry for taking so long.”

“You shouldn’t apologize, I’m not upset in the slightest,” he felt his heart lighten at the tiny smile that illuminated her face, “I simply enjoy spending this time together.”

“You’re too nice sometimes, Kiyo,” she giggled, but they both recognized the tingle of nervousness jumbling within it, “If you’re not careful, I might fall for you or something…”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?”

I wouldn’t mind, she wanted to say.

If you’ll have me, he wished to murmur.

Then he felt his chest tighten.

“Can I…” he tapped a finger to the table, “ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Uhm,” she bit her lip as she thought back, “No… why?”

“How do you think it feels?”

“Like, you could be free and yourself around the person? I’m not too sure, but I think if you and someone else are in love then you’ll accept each other completely, you know? Sure, there’s flaws in every person, but I think you accept those, too.”

“I see…”

“Kiyo, why do you ask?”

“I…” his brows furrowed, “A lot has been on my mind as of late.”

“Alright, I won’t pry,” standing from the dining table, (Y/n) clapped her hands together, “Now, if you’re still down, I’d love to put your hair up!”

“As it stands, I am still, as you put it, ‘down’,” Korekiyo nodded before joining the girl and starting towards her dorm room.

“Nice!” she pointed directly ahead, “Now, onward!”

A total airhead at her truest, Korekiyo thought. He didn’t usually partake in the type, but something about (Y/n) just pulled him in tighter every time he tried turning away.

So, what’s the harm in giving in? Swimming against the tide only ever led to drowning anyway, so why fight it?

Sister… Sister was dead. Is dead. Resurrection isn’t possible and hasn’t been in human history. And she had changed so much of him. (Y/n) would never force him to bend to her ideal.

The more he thought about Sister in comparison to (Y/n), the more he realized that Sister felt like a ball and chain - and (Y/n) felt like a breath of fresh air.

Just her name inside his own head sounded as sweet as the best form of heaven.

“Here we are!” (Y/n) cheered upon their arrival to her room, “There’s probably a bunch-load of unfinished works in here so just… don’t judge them too harshly, okay?”

“I could hardly judge an unfinished masterpiece.”

“I don’t know about masterpieces…”

“If you create them with heart and soul, there’s nobody who can effectively say they aren’t except for yourself,” Korekiyo enters the room after her, legs carrying him towards her desk as she roots around her bathroom for a hairbrush and hair tie, “Sadly, this is also applicable to disasters with effort put into them. However, just from skimming these, I can tell you they are not such disasters.”

“Aw, thanks, Kiyo, you know - I know I’m the Ultimate Composer and junk, but jeez it gets so nerve-wracking when people hear my stuff. I like what I write, but who’s to say other people will?”

“I understand that. Showing others your work is extremely unsettling at times,” he followed the girl to her bed and sat between her knees on the floor, “I recall feeling that way when I would dabble in artistry.”

“You can draw?”

“I would when I was much younger,” he felt her fingers run over his scalp and through his hair and the weight looming over his shoulders practically melted off, “I haven’t held onto any of them, and they’ve likely aged poorly, but I know how I felt showing them around.”

“Why’d you stop? If you don’t mind my asking,” reaching around, (Y/n) threaded her fingers through Korekiyo’s bangs and, as gently as humanly possible, pulled the hair hanging over and around his face back into a slicked style.

“My… sister, she always rathered that I participate in anthropology with her. I wasn’t all that good anyways.”

“Aw, that’s kinda sad. Even if you weren’t good, you could’ve improved over time.”

“Do you truly believe that, (Y/n)?”

“Of course, I mean, talents are just developed over time, right? Angie didn’t pop out of the womb an art genius and I didn’t start off great at writing music, you just keep at it and eventually your skill level is way better than when you started.”

Sister always said he’d be garbage at drawing. Somebody like him could never learn.

She tied off and twisted until the bun was perfect - well, not perfect. It was presentable enough, and it was just a bun anyway! Not like they had anywhere to be.

“Sorry it’s messy,” she scratched at her cheek, feeling anxious that he’d be upset with her work.

“I…” he felt another little smile peek over him, it was indeed messy with stray hairs sticking out here and there and a few tiny bumps running over his head, but even so, “I love it.”

“You do?”

“It’s a gesture from you, why wouldn’t I?”

Standing beside Korekiyo at the mirror, (Y/n) twiddled her thumbs before spewing out her question, “It’s totally cool if not, but can I hug you? Sorry if that’s weird!”

“No… it’s…” Sister never asked to touch him, and now that he thought about it, she never seemed to care when he told her to stop, “That would be wonderful.”

As her arms slowly came around him, he felt truly at ease. With Sister, there was always this fear of never being what she wanted. That she hated him deep down. With (Y/n), it felt like finally being attached to someone you were meant to. Returning to a place of deep affection.

“You truly do care about me, don’t you, (Y/n)?”

“What kind of question is that?” she back-pedals, “I mean, of course, I do. You’re very dear to me, Kiyo.”

Maybe even a little too dear, considering the current climate of the killing game.

But even so, neither of them pulls away. Neither cares enough to wrangle themselves from indulging in the other’s touch. It feels too good against their skin.

It’s then that Korekiyo’s brain strikes the flint to create the burning thought - maybe Sister wasn’t all that great. Maybe Sister didn’t love him.

She’s only ever made him miserable, now that he recalls it all.

(Y/n) doesn’t. She makes him feel human and alive and adored. He likes the way she makes him feel. And between the two, he much rather would be praised than berated.

Oh God, what did this mean again?

Where do the creation myths go?

Who’s Princess Kaguya?

Her head throbs at the thoughts rumbling through her. She tried to get Korekiyo to get someone, anyone, but her to organize his notes.

Shuichi would love this stuff! You two should bond!

Gonta could learn about being gentlemanly from you! It’d be a great learning experience!

I know you don’t like Miu that much, but maybe spending more time together could make you understand each other more?

Anyone.

And yet, Korekiyo denied. He liked spending time with her. He wouldn’t mind answering every question she had - no matter how many times she asked it. He was a patient person, he could handle it.

(Y/n) looked at all the books and stray papers surrounding her alike, bottom lip tugged between her teeth in focus and face beating hot in vivid embarrassment. He wasn’t even looking at her, thank God, but still… it was so mortifying that she’d already lost track of what she was doing.

She tried so hard to pay attention, she really, really did!

She wanted to help so bad. She wanted to be useful so bad.

But she knew… she’s not a smart person, per se. It was beaten over her head repeatedly her entire life by her family, schooling, peers, and even her friends. She was an idiot who couldn’t do anything right.

It’s why she wanted Korekiyo to ask someone else.

But how could she say no to him? He was always so nice, it’d be downright mean to refuse him. Right?

She felt her eyes burn, vision growing blurry through tears. Setting down the papers in her hands - (Y/n) covered her eyes to keep any wetness from splotching the notes below. It was the least a fucking moron could do.

“(Y/n)? Are you feeling okay?”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She nodded shakily, just wanting Korekiyo to ignore her and continue his work. Better yet, he’d kick her out and she could dodge the incoming humiliation altogether.

“Yeah,” her voice cracked, lips trembling.

Goddammit.

She heard papers rustling before she could feel the presence at her side. Fingertips just barely grazing her body before hesitating back, “You’re lying.”

Understatement of the year.

“I just… I’m so sorry, Kiyo. I’m such an idiot, I knew I couldn’t do this,” she whimpered, desperately trying to grab and suffocate down her bubbling sobs before they wracked her throat, “I’m too fucking dumb to do anything right… I’m sorry…”

“No, no, don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong and you’re no idiot,” he’s immediately slammed with every memory of every time he’s called her such a thing. No matter how nice he tried to be about it, he still aided her insecurity, “I’m sorry for ever saying you were. Intellect is not measured by how well you can do a task nor should everyone’s mind be measured the same. Intelligence is fickle and is spread over a vast variety of subjects. You’re not an idiot for not being able to do something you’re not accustomed to.”

“I just… I- I wanted to help you but then I forgot everything you said about organizing them and then which regions are which and what even is a gorgon?”

He chuckled quietly at her question, “A creature in Greek mythology most commonly in reference to three sisters - Medusa, Euryale, and Sthenno - with hair made of living, venomous snakes that turned those who so much as looked upon them to stone,” he glanced around at what (Y/n) had gotten done, “I see that the filing in relation to music is nearly completed for your half.”

“That’s about all I’m good for.”

“And I would not have managed that so easily, music was never an incredible strength of mine - though I do admire it.”

“Don’t lie to me, Kiyo…”

“I would never,” he moved his notes away to sit more comfortably next to the girl, “In fact, if you’d be willing to listen…” his throat tightened and heart thumped in his chest, “I would like to tell you of something that’s been troubling me for quite some time.”

“Yeah,” she wiped away her tears, sniffling, “of course.”

“I told you of my sister, correct?” he waited for her nod of confirmation to continue, “Well, it’s my belief that…” his fists clenched.

What if she didn’t believe him? What if she blamed him? How do you tell someone your older sister raped and abused you when you’re barely even coming to terms with the fact yourself?

“(Y/n), I…” he stopped, gut bunching in knots before he suddenly ripped down his mask and turned to face her, “I think I need help…”

“What? You’re just wearing lipstick, Kiyo, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, no, no, no,” he shook his head, hands shaking wildly as he pulled out the ponytail (Y/n) had done up earlier and yanked through his hair, “E-everything I am is because of her! She consumes me even in death! She- she- she hurt me…”

“Oh,” the girl moved to sit up on her knees, hands reaching out but not yet touching him, “What happened, Kiyo? You can tell me, I’m listening.”

“She told me I was an awful boy, nobody but her could love someone so foul and creepy… she- “ he moved to grip his sleeves, “She touched me,” he looked into the girl’s eyes, “Is it my fault? Am I so disgusting? Why would she do this?”

“Do you want me to hold you or no?” at his shaky nod, she instantly took Korekiyo into a hug, cradling his head and shoulders to her body and stroking through his hair, “You’re more than what she made you. You’re bigger and better than her manipulation. And it’s not your fault she did what she did. It’s completely and totally on her. She took advantage of you, Kiyo, that’s not your fault.”

He grabbed her arm and pressed his face into her shirt as she held him, “Am I rotten? Am I lovable?”

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met. You’re worthy of love and care.”

His lipstick smeared over her shirt and across his cheek and neither of them minded. It would wash off eventually. Her stain on his life would come out.

“When we get out,” (Y/n) began again, “do you want to seek professional help? You can get it, Kiyo.”

He was slow to nod, beginning to grow tired from dosing out tears and trauma at once, “I do… thank you, (Y/n)...”

“No need to thank me.”

“(Y/n)?” she hummed quietly in acknowledgement, “Even if it isn’t for field work… I wish to travel the country with you. I want to show you the beauty of humanity as I know it… for our sakes.”

Looking down, (Y/n) caught the gentleness in his eyes, tender and soft and awaiting her response, she smiled softly, brushing back his hair, “I would love to, Kiyo. If it’s truly something you want to do, I would be happy to go anywhere with you.”

Nighttime was quickly approaching and with the atmosphere and turmoil of the class, (Y/n) didn’t feel very safe being out so late.

“You’re certain you don’t wish for me to walk you to your room?”

“No, you finish up here,” (Y/n) waved off Korekiyo’s offer, “Don’t be such a worry-wart, yeah? I’ll be fine! You better take care of yourself while I’m gone, though.”

He nodded, a small smile stretching over him, “I will, dear (Y/n), don’t worry.”

The girl’s eyes widened slightly before she returned his beam, “You have a cute smile, Kiyo.”

“Oh,” right, he didn’t have his mask on at the moment. It was refreshing to wake up and not trouble himself with makeup for a woman he wasn’t sure even cared - dare he say it, it was nice, even.

He’d only taken his mask off around (Y/n), it felt intimate. Sweet. Something passed only between them.

“Thank you.”

She nodded before turning back and pressing outward from his research lab, “I’ll see ya tomorrow, Kiyo! You better have the sweetest dreams, ya hear me?”

“You as well.”

He returned to cleaning up his lab, occasionally stumbling over a floorboard looser than the others. How troublesome.

That’s when her voice picked up from within his brain.

“You never loved me.”

He looked around despite knowing exactly where the voice was coming from.

“You let her do this to you. You let her take you from me.”

Pushing past them, he persisted in rooting through his notes and organizing his papers.

“She hates you. She’s scared of you. She’s just trying to be nice. You scare her. You scare all of them. You rotten, rotten boy. You’ve been ruined - only I could love a face so hideous and broken. A horrible, horrible boy lucky enough to be given the love I did.”

His hands shook, fingers twitching and heart thrumming heavy, “No. (Y/n) likes me. She enjoys my company.”

“Why would she enjoy the company of someone so lonely and depressing? So gross and foul? She probably hates you for partaking in your own sister’s touch.”

“No, she- she doesn’t… she knows it’s not… it’s not my fault…”

“Are you inside her head? How do you know? How are you certain? I’m the only one who ever loved you - and you’ve abandoned me. Left me all alone.”

“No, I- I haven’t abandoned you, Sister! Please, believe me, I never abandoned you.”

“So, you know what you must do to prove yourself to me.”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like that…”

“(Y/n) wouldn’t like you anyway.”

She’s right, right? She’s right. Someone as wonderful and beautiful as (Y/n) could never adore him the way he does her. He loves her and she must find him repulsive. Staying out of fear.

Out of pity for the boy abused by his sister. And so, who better to return to than the more predictable of the two?

(Y/n) may have felt more like coming home than Sister - but Sister was home. (Y/n) was comfort. Sister was familiarity.

He found his foot planted against the loose floorboard once again. He knew how he had to make up for his misdeeds and abandonment.

“I’m truly relieved to see that you got to your room safely,” Korekiyo murmured to (Y/n).

“Huh? Oh yeah,” she pointed over to their local gentle giant, “Gonta and I crossed paths on my way and he wanted to walk me to my room and I just couldn’t say no to him. It’s nice to have someone you trust in this ‘game’. Well, other than you,” the elevator jumbled slightly as it dove down into Monokuma’s makeshift courtroom, “I trust you, obviously.”

She shouldn’t. And he wants to tell her that.

But as Kokichi and Shuichi take glances at him from across the elevator, he knows that she’ll figure things out soon enough.

And, during the trial, when Shuichi’s convicting Korekiyo of the murder of Angie Yonaga and Tenko Chabashira - she does. And she cries and screams and throws a fit. Demanding Korekiyo to fight back harder. Demanding Shuichi to stop lying and get serious. Because Korekiyo would never kill somebody.

He was nice. He was a gentleman. He cared about people. He had stolen her heart - and a man who managed that wouldn’t kill anybody. So, of course, Shuichi was lying.

“Do I have to remind you of what’ll happen if you don’t vote?” Monokuma bit out.

(Y/n) clutched at her hair - she knew what she had to do. But every time she went to vote for Korekiyo, her body wouldn’t let her.

Reaching over, the boy himself took her hand in his, “Allow me,” as he guided her hand over her voting panel. No matter how she swatted at his hand or tried to wrench herself from Korekiyo’s grip, he pressed her vote into his name.

She was forced to watch as he was strung up and spun. Made dizzy and sickly. She was made to watch as he fell into the melting pot. Fires eating at his body until he was no more than spirit.

As Monokuma and the sister who had harmed him so horrifically worked as one to rid the world of his soul.

Eyes went to (Y/n) as the execution subsided. Her sobs and hiccups drawing everyone’s attention.

Gonta was the first to approach, a large hand settling on the girl’s back as she cried, silently taking her into a hug.

Her heart wrenched, fingers squeezing at Gonta’s suit and throat rubbing raw with her wild wails.

He could’ve gotten help. He could’ve gotten out with everyone. If she’d just stayed with him then she could’ve done something. Angie and Tenko would be here. Korekiyo would be here.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Kaito’s voice peeked through, “Don’t cry because he’s gone, (Y/n). Move forward - for both of you.”

“I…” she shook her head, choking on a sob, “I don’t think I can…”

Shuichi placed a hand on Kaito’s shoulder, “Just give her a little time.”

As the group moved out of the courtroom, Gonta stayed by (Y/n)’s side up until she clumsily made her way into her dorm room.

Immediately, she collapsed into her bed sheets. Dreading tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. And the one after that. And so on. And so forth. Maybe she should’ve known better than to go around falling for a guy in the killing game. Maybe she should’ve held herself up in her room all alone.

There was no escape from this feeling. No hiding. It may get better over time - but Korekiyo would always be gone.

A buzz at the door caught her attention. Her movements were sluggish, honestly just hoping that whoever was there had given up and left by the time she finally answered.

Shuichi stood there, classically uneven, anxious smile and all, “I think there’s something you might be interested in? If you’ll follow me.”

No verbal response was given, only (Y/n) stepping out of her room and shutting the door behind her to give him her confirmation.

He began towards the casino. With a sigh, (Y/n) was about to tell Shuichi off - she didn’t need to start gambling to get over Korekiyo’s death - until he stopped in front of the building.

“I mostly just wanted you to get some fresh air,” he says earnestly before digging in his pocket and pulling out a key with a heart-shaped handle, “I got this from here. You can get your own or keep this one, I think you need it more than I do,” at her confusion he continues to explain, “It can take you into this weird dream-like state where you can see what ‘ideal’ you play in our classmates’ minds… I think you know who I gave this to you for.”

“Kiyo…”

“Yeah. You can see him again, if you want.”

She wanted to be strong and push the key back into Shuichi’s hand - instead, she just looked between him and the key in her hold and nodded slowly, “Thank you, Shuichi…”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, “Sleep well, (Y/n). I know you can grow past this.”

Because he did.

“I’ll try.”

But he wasn’t her. And Kaede was gone far before Korekiyo. And their grief was not the same.

“Thanks again, Shuichi.”

“Just take your time, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Her knees felt like collapsing under the weight of her nerves, hand falling to the doorknob of the hotel room.

She pushed through her anxiety and found herself in a red-tinted room, a large heart-shaped bed in the center with a merry-go-round circling it. Then, she found Korekiyo standing to the side.

What would his ‘ideal’ version of her be? A friend? An out-of-touch acquaintance? A lover?

Her heart throbbed at the last possibility.

“Ah, my dear, back so soon?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m, uhm, not sure?”

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.

“Then don’t,” he seemed to glide across the room, taking the girl’s cheeks in his hands, “You’ve always had a problem with that, my love.”

My love? My love.

“Ah, yeah, sorry,” she huffed at her own word selection, “Oh…”

Korekiyo chuckled quietly, pulling down his mask to kiss her forehead, “I already took my medication while you were out.”

“Your medication?”

“Yes, from the doctor. You were the one who pushed me to go, have you forgotten?”

“Right! No, no, I just blanked,” she quickly lied, giving the boy a broad grin, “I’m glad, though.”

“It’s only medication, dear.”

“Still,” (Y/n) reached up to cup Korekiyo’s cheek, “it’s good that you’re following through with your meds.”

“Your support always helps,” he pressed another kiss to the girl’s forehead, “We’ll be leaving early in the morning tomorrow, I should warn you,” at her furrowed brows he explained, “In order for us to catch the first train to Iwate prefecture. Did you forget, darling?”

“Wait, wait, let me guess…” she waited for his nod before tossing out her suggestion, “We’re traveling for field work!” she was then quick to tag on, “As a couple that’s, like, super in love?”

“You didn’t forget at all, my love,” Korekiyo pulled away slightly, and sat on the bed, removing his shoes, “You play that memory of yours down too much. You’re far more intelligent than you think.”

“You think that?”

“Of course, I do. It’s not just because I love you dearly, either. You mustn’t let the words and actions of others control your opinion on yourself - you’re better than they say.”

This is his ultimate fantasy. He’s her lover. They travel and see the beauty of humanity together, just like what he said he wanted. He loves her. He thinks she’s so great.

He’s wrong.

She should’ve stayed with him that night.

He’s wrong.

She could’ve done so much to keep him with her.

He’s dead.

Because she should’ve stayed.

“Kiyo,” her eyes burned and began to soak, “I’m sorry!” her lungs rapidly expanded and contracted with her sporadic breaths, her hands clutching at her shirt. Her knees finally buckled and she collapsed to the ground, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for being a stupid, stupid, stupid failure! Please… forgive me…!”

Korekiyo immediately stood up and rushed to (Y/n)’s side, bringing her into a tight hug as she fell to the floor, his fingers running through her hair. He kisses at her temple and cheeks, waiting until her cries settle enough for him to be audible in the room, “It’s interesting, dear, I first realized I’d fallen in love with you in a situation similar as this. I desired to comfort and reassure you just as I do now. You’re not stupid nor a failure, and I adore you above all else.”

Shaking her head, (Y/n) only began to cry harder into Korekiyo’s chest. This could’ve been their future. This could’ve been what they had to share and hold between only each other. If she’d only stayed. If she’d been with him that night.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep back her cries, “I- I- it’s all my fault… it’s all my fault…”

“You haven’t done anything wrong, darling,” Korekiyo held her tighter, “I love you, my dearest (Y/n). No matter what you’ve done, I will always forgive you.”

And once again, her tears only came out harder. Her head pounding ruthlessly at the ache and consciousness fading out in her exhaustion. Korekiyo was dead. And no amount of her tears could ever bring him back.

#korekiyo shinguji x reader #korekiyo x reader #shinguji x reader #drv3 x reader #he deserved so much better :(( i wuv him #let me know if i miss anything with the warnings

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gallavictorious · 3 years

Text

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions.

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #fic #what have i done #my stuff

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sunshinesukuna · 4 years

Text

all the colors of love

pairing: oikawa x reader

genre: fluff to angst

summary: oikawa is able to see other people’s feelings as colors. what color are you on your wedding day?

wc: 1.6k

insp: the gifted - claire (star. ramida jiranorraphat)

big thanks to @writeiolite for beta-ing this <333

for the haikyuuwriters june prompt event: marriage

Oikawa's world has always been colorful. Literally. There was purple for fear, like Kageyama's first match at Kitagawa. Kageyama’s trembling fists and pale face when he stepped up onto the court was enough to push Oikawa to give his kouhai a slap on the back and some words of encouragement. The purple around Kageyama dissipated shortly after.

Blue for sadness, like the smidge of azure around Kyoutani whenever he lost a challenge to Iwaizumi. Yellow for happiness whenever the team won an exceptionally hard rally during matches, or whenever his friends had their tests handed back with 100’s at the top.

There were other colors too. Like the green around you whenever you saw his fangirls flocking around you. He always thought you looked cute whenever you were jealous. Or the red that time the referee was clearly playing favorites and even Iwaizumi and Oikawa combined couldn't hold you back from giving the ref a piece of your mind.

Personally, his favourite was pink. Pink like when he woke up next to you, his eyes only a crack open to trick you into thinking he was sleeping so you would continue kissing his chest. Pink like when he opened your laptop to find him as your wallpaper. And how could he forget the magnificent pink around you when he got on one knee and popped the question?

Oikawa walks through the hall where everyone is gathered towards the room where he was going to get ready. Everyone around him is multicolored, as usual. Your father earlier was purple from head to toe. Well that’s to be expected, his only daughter is getting married. Oikawa would have felt the same if he were your father.

On the other hand, your mother was positively pretty in both the pink dress and the pink aura that surrounded her. She had always loved Oikawa just a little bit more than she did her own daughter.

“Oi, if you trip out there, we’re going to laugh at you and ask the photographer to get a good shot of the pimple on your chin,” Mattsun says. Makki and Iwaizumi snigger at the joke as they adjust their suits.

“It’s my wedding day! Can’t you all let me live a little?” Oikawa says.

“That’s what she said,” Makki mutters to the other two. They chuckle. Oikawa shoots them a dirty glare.

“I feel bad for (Y/N),” Mattsun says. He doesn’t mean it, of course, but says it with enough animosity that would make your mother gasp.

“Yeah, if she’s gone after the ceremony, we’ve kidnapped her and let her live the rest of her life in New Zealand with 13 goats and a cow,” Makki replies. Oikawa rolls his eyes. He continues bouncing on his toes as he waits for the ceremony to start.

“Tooru!” his sister calls from outside the door. “Five more minutes.”

All four of them rise up from their seats. As best man, Iwaizumi stays behind to go to the altar with Oikawa while Makki and Mattsun go off to meet up with the bridal procession. Before going out, they give him a clap on the back.

“We believe in you,” they say unanimously, “captain.” Oikawa can't help but smile a little at his old title.

At long last, he stands in front of the aisle. Oikawa takes a deep breath and a glance at Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s heart rate is enough to make him sweat bullets even when he’s standing in a well-ventilated room. Iwaizumi gives him a thumbs up. The yellow around his old friend calms his nerves a little, along with the small wiggle of his legs he does before something important.

The walk to the altar is brisk and clean. He catches glimpses of the colors of the people around him. Some sparks of green and blue here and there, but mostly, the hall is decorated in beautiful hues of pink and yellow.

Oikawa nods at your uncle, the one officiating the ceremony, when he gets to the altar. As stated in your family tradition, the groom may not see the bride until she reaches the altar. So he turns back and waits, with bated breath and a rapidly tapping foot.

The doors open with a loud groan as the bridal party steps inside. The music starts. Tiny footsteps that belong to your smaller cousins spread flowers along the aisle. People coo left and right at the appearance of these wonderfully cute creatures, like cupids straight out of a renaissance painting. Maybe someday he could call one of them his own — your own.

A hush falls over the crowd. The bride has arrived.

“Whoa,” Iwaizumi mutters next to him. Oikawa glances to his side. His best man drips in pink from head to toe, lips parted and his eyes on you. If even the stoic Iwaizumi could react like that, then how would Oikawa fare? Not well, certainly.

“How does she look, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks. Iwaizumi shakes his head, as if to clear his thoughts. Oikawa takes a closer look at his long time friend. Something is off about Iwaizumi.The pink that once wrapped around Iwaizumi so harmoniously was now replaced by a harsh green.

Oikawa squinted a bit. He rubbed his eyes. No amount of eye picking would change the green lights that radiated off of Iwaizumi. He could swear that Iwaizumi entered the hall absolutely coated in yellow. So where was it now?

The sound of footsteps from behind Oikawa becomes louder and louder and snaps him out of his thoughts. It doesn’t matter, Oikawa thinks. Maybe he’s just having some spur of the moment feelings.

When the footsteps finally stop behind him, he knows it’s time. Your bridesmaids and his groomsmen are starting to take their places. All that’s left is to turn back and see you in your wedding dress.

What shade of pink would you be? Your mother had a magnificent rosy hue whenever she looked at your father. Oikawa’s nephew turned a much darker shade of magenta whenever he saw the girl with the pigtails at school. Would the tinge around you change as soon as you said your vows?

Everyone’s in place now. Oikawa clears his throat. He turns back, left foot first, like he practiced so many times. The smile on his lips wants so much to burst free, but he suppresses it for when he sees you. Oikawa turns his head to see...

The darkest blue he’s ever seen.

Dark isn’t even enough to encompass all of it. People are always colorful, no matter what they’re feeling. The strongest emotions always have the brightest shades. But here you were, looking at Oikawa, on your wedding day, in your wedding dress in the gloomiest color he’s ever laid eyes on.

What’s worse is that you’re smiling. You're in your wedding dress, the brightest smile he's ever seen on your face, but with the darkest colors surrounding you. The smile even reaches your eyes.

His jaw hangs open, but everyone is smiling even wider. They must think he’s in awe at your beauty or something else. Oikawa feels his hand quiver as he reaches out to you. Your skin is as soft as ever as you take his hand in yours. He wants to pull away, to never see you again, to bury the memory somewhere no one will ever reach it. But he also knows that the second he does that, he’ll come back to you wanting even more.

Oikawa blinks away the burning in his eyes during the vows. Knowing that the words that come out of your mouth could, or possibly were, big, fat lies. Then what has it been all this time? Had it been any other person, he would have slapped the daylights out of them, but this was you. The whole reason why this was complicated. You.

Nothing can come out of his mouth when he opens it for the vows. Oikawa clears his throat a little and laughs it off. Some of the members in the audience laugh with them. He shoots them, and you, a dazzling smile.

It’s how he’s created his whole image, right? Ward tears off with a smile. Laugh off the lump in your throat before it gets too noticeable. Fold your arms to hide your shaking hands so you look frightening instead of frightened.

When his vows end, all he can do is stare at you. Stare at the murky black that juxtaposes with a smile that could light up a room.

The hardest words he’s ever had to say in Oikawa’s whole life turn out to be “I do.” He chokes it out while looking up at the mosaics on the ceiling as to not break the dam holding his stability together. You giggle at his antics. If only you knew better.

“I pronounce you man and wife.”

And out of the corner of his eye, he sees a pink spot emerge from the murky black. It grows bigger and bigger, completely overtaking the black until not a speck is left. His heart races, finally thinking that it was just last moment jitters. The pink grows until the black is almost gone. Yes, you truly do love Oikawa with all your heart.

But you’re not looking at Oikawa. You're looking at Oikawa’s best man.

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

Hey, I saw you did a hc thing for Scaracen/Dexter and I was wondering if you could do one for Ghastly/Skulduggery?? (I love the pairing but there is no content and it makes me sad) Hope you are having a good time :)

I genuinely thought I had done this for ghasdug but apparently not? I can't find it anyway

There is content in my ghasdug tag but tbh in my experience the ghasdug shippers are on discord mostly...hit me up

ANYWAY

So. Ghasdug. Ghastly wants skug from the start.

They're 16 when they meet. Ghastly gets a bit seasick and doesn't really want to go anywhere by ship, but his mama tells him he needs to, there's something important for him on that ship, that one right there, and he trusts her enough to know that she's clearly foreseen something and to just go with it.

By the time they get back to shore, he's already thinking, it's you. I was supposed to meet you.

They head back to Dublin together. Ghastly's mama takes one look at this awkward, skinny, skittish child and decides she's adopting him, and skug moves into their farmhouse and is subsequently freaked the fuck out by his very first experience of A Loving Family. Ghastly's mother like, hugs him and reminds him to wear a coat and clips his ear for swearing and makes sure he eats breakfast. He is semiferal and not used to any of this.

For a few months they settle into a comfortable routine:

- Ghastly's father spends the week making clothes, then does commission deliveries one day and takes hats and boots and suchlike to the market the next.

- Ghastly's mother has a job as a barmaid, where she gets to regularly crack some skulls and socialise, which is great for her because she is both a short-n-stocky powerhouse and a giant extrovert.

- The boys spend most of their time together, and they're supposed to do the bulk of the chores. It's not a large commercial farm - they have a vegetable garden, and some chickens, and an old carthorse, and maybe a couple of goats or a cow for milk and cheese. Ghastly and Skug are supposed to cut firewood and feed the animals and fetch groceries from the market and milk the milkable animal and fix this and repair that. All the things the parents dont have time for

Which. Is great in theory but skug has never had to do a hard day's work in his lazy aristocratic life, and develops a severe and immediate allergy to manual labour, so actually ghastly tends to do most of the chores while skug skives off and naps in the sun or chats up the girls who live on the neighbouring smallholding over the fence

And like, therein lies the problem, because they are both solidly in the grip of that cruel mistress called puberty and like. Skug was a fuckin weird-looking child. He had big ears and a sharp nose and a bunch of missing teeth and his limbs were all too long for him. But he's now rapidly growing into all the features that made him an unfortunate child, and it's already clear that he's going to be one of those people who will, inevitably, grow into handsome young men.

Which is like. Fine. Ghastly doesn't care. He's not jealous or anything. He doesn't feel a twinge when the neighbour girls only speak to him to ask about Skulduggery. Nobody here is bitter.

It's a good thing, he tells himself. Nobody will want to marry him anyway, so he's glad skug is around now so Mother can harass him to meet a nice girl and give her grandchildren. At least someone will probably want to have children with skug.

He has a dream about skug not long before his 17th. They share the attic room, and when he startles awake, skug is smirking at him from the opposite bed and asking "who is she?" and ghastly thinks oh no. He's painfully embarrassed and awkward about it, and skug rolls over and stretches and says, "relax, bespoke, your secret is safe with me" and all ghastly can focus on is that he's actually been putting some muscle on lately and when he stretches like that it does funny things to ghastly's insides.

- they start riding into town in the evenings to meet up with hopeless at the tavern, play cards and flirt with pretty girls. Or rather, skug flirts with pretty girls. He's all legs and freckles and elegant clothes, and they hang off his every word. Ghastly knows they will never look at him like that. He's Skulduggery's ugly friend. Girls only approach him to ask about skug

- and he gets it! Skug is unfairly attractive! And he's witty, and clever, and sometimes when ghastly wakes up first he stays very quiet so he can watch skug sleep, the way the dawn turns his hair to burnished copper, the way his curls fall across his forehead and the patterns his freckles make on his skin. Skug is an affectionate, tactile drunk, and hopeless looks at ghastly with something like pity whenever skug rests his chin on ghastly's shoulder or leans his head on ghastly's knee or wants a piggyback back to where they tied the horse, and ghastly takes what little he can get and says nothing.

- they're coming home drunk in the pouring rain one night, later than usual, riding doubled up on ghastly's carthorse. ghastly is behind, loosely holding on around skug's waist, and the whole way home all he can think about is how close they are and how much he wants to lean in and put his mouth on skug's neck, and by halfway home he's reduced to silently begging his semi not to pop a full on hard-on until they're home, when skug will crash like always and ghastly can take care of himself in private

- when they get home, they're locked out, which is what they get for coming home well after ghastly's parents are asleep, but this isn't a one off and ghastly's mother always leaves blankets for them to sleep in the barn. so they put the horse away and give her a rub-down/groom together and skug's shirt is practically see-through and his hair is plastered to his skull and ghastly can't take his eyes off the visible jut of collarbone where the neck of skug's shirt is undone and skug makes a couple jokes about it when their eyes meet, how ghastly has been brushing the same bit of horse for as long as it's taken skug to do half his side, but then the third time he laughs and teases, "if i didn't know better, bespoke, I'd say you wanted me" and ghastly will forever blame the alcohol but he doesn't even think about it? It comes out before he can stop himself, before he has time to remember what it could do to their friendship

- he says, "what if i did?"

- skug goes quiet for a minute, and it's a tense sort of quiet, not the thick, cloying tension that comes before a storm or an argument but the light, vibrating tension that comes with standing on a cliff's edge or drawing a bowstring, and then he ducks under the horse's head to come around to ghastly's side. He's still a little shorter than ghastly, still has to look up ever so slightly to meet his eyes.

- skug says, "do you?" like it's still half a joke, and there's a chance to back out right there, to laugh and deny it and let this become an amusing footnote at the bottom of their friendship, but ghastly ignores it. "yes."

- skug shrugs, his lip quirking, and says, "so have me."

- ghastly learns a lot that night. he also accidentally blurts "i love you" when he comes, but nobody's perfect and he's...relatively...sure skug was too distracted to have been paying attention, so he'll count that as a massive win

- morning finds them in the hayloft, tangled up in the blankets left out for them, regretting their choice of tavern beverages and, in ghastly's case, sporting a classic case of morning wood. He's kind of hoping he'll get lucky again with sleepy morning sex but skug is disgustingly hungover and just wants to burrow his head into ghastly's chest to block out the light and go back to sleep so like, out of luck.

- when skug has slept off the booze a bit more, Ghastly awkwardly broaches the question of "just how drunk were you" and they establish that they both remember fucking, neither of them regrets it, and the attraction is apparently mutual? Which is a mindfuck for self-conscious teenage ghastly, because, like, why tho

- they both get to do the walk of shame into the house when ghastly's parents wake up. Ghastly's shirt hides the nail marks skug left on his back nicely; sadly, the same cannot be said for the giant hickey he left on skug's throat, and he is eternally grateful to his parents for not bringing it up (he'll allow his mother her raised eyebrows. She did it quietly)

- they just sort of? happen, after that. There's no conversation about what they are to one another, so there are several crossed wires and feelings get hurt, but they always move past it. They both have phases of going off with someone else - but they keep ending up back together regardless of how much they argue.

#skulduggery pleasant #ghasdug #sp headcanons #nsft mention #the slightest sprinkling of smut #sp getting together meme

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jjmaebank · 4 years

Text

Amnesia - JJ Maybank

a/n: this is based off the classic song Amnesia by 5sos, I'm sorry but I'm acc tempted to write so many more purely based on 5sos songs cuz there r so many GEMS. this one’s just a classic and this album reminds me of my childhood jfskk

LISTEN TO THE SONG WHILE READING (if you want lol)

Flashbacks are in italics!!

warnings: sad :((

Words: 2.8k

[GIF NOT MINE CREDIT TO OWNER]

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

JJ would drive by the beach every day just to get a glimpse at your special spot through the car window. When you first left he would sit there for hours, running his fingers through the sand that the two of you would lie on as you stared at the stars. He would sit there for hours hoping that maybe if he stayed there long enough you would appear next to him. He would sit there remembering the countless times you spent getting wasted and talking about stupid things.

“Don’t you think that there are enough cows in the world for them to coordinate a mass uprising against the meat industry?” You asked as you stared up at the star scattered sky.

JJ chuckled as he stared at you with absolute adoration.

“Babe, cows aren’t humans...they can’t coordinate a global rebellion,” he laughed, his eyes never leaving your face as you scrunched up your nose in protest.

“But they did it in Animal Farm,” you pouted, the alcohol had really clouded your logic.

“What the hell is Animal Farm?” JJ asked, still smiling at your passion for social justice.

“Oh, I forgot you don’t read,” you teased, turning your head to meet his gaze.

JJ rolled his eyes and began to tickle you in response causing you to erupt into fits of giggles.

“Why would I read when I have you to give me in depth summaries of every book in the world,” he smirked, continuing to tickle you.

Your laughter. It hurt him to even remember the sound, but every time he cracked a joke with the pogues he wished he could hear it again. He wished he could watch the way your dimples showed and your eyes crinkled as you burst into a fit of laugher. He wished he could watch the way one of his jokes sent you into hysterics to the point you were holding your stomach, to the point you were out of breath. But he also wished he could forget.

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt, the way you tasted.

Your last kiss. It was breathtaking. You’d spent the whole day out on the water with the pogues, swimming, snorkelling, soaking up the sun. JJ remembered this day as one of the most epic days of pogue history; it was the last time you were all together as one, as one big happy family. He remembered the overwhelming feeling of pride he had as he watched you beat Pope in a shotgunning challenge.

“That’s my girl!” He yelled as you downed the beer and smashed the can down on the boat as Pope continued struggling with his.

You smiled and hopped on his lap, giving him a quick peck as you celebrated being the coolest girlfriend anyone could ever have.

You were his soulmate, or that’s what it felt like, for him at least.

He remembered walking you back to your house on The Cut that night, your fingers interlaced as your hands swung with your steps.

“Today was amazing,” you smiled, masking a sadness that JJ hadn’t noticed at the time.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” JJ smiled, tracing small patterns on your right cheek with his thumb.

You leaned into his touch, knowing it would be one of the last you experienced, but you didn’t want to spoil this perfect moment.

JJ leaned in, connecting his lips with yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. But you immediately grabbed him and brought him closer, increasing the intensity of the kiss knowing it might be your last. Your lips tasted like your strawberry flavoured lip balm, but with a slightly salty tang from the sea, and he loved it.

Your lips glided against each other in such harmony it was as if everything about the two of you was meant to be. Your fingers ran through his locks of blonde hair, tugging at the nape of his neck. He responded by hooking his fingers in the loops of your jean shorts and pulling you against him.

Eventually, you pushed yourself away from him gently and smiled.

“Goodnight, babe,” you smiled.

“I love you (Y/N),” JJ whispered into your hair as he pulled you in for a hug, not knowing that his words had almost made you cry into his shirt.

“I love you too, JJ Maybank,” you responded, knowing it would probably be the last time he believed you when you said it.

And even though your friends tell me you’re doing fine Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he’s right beside you?

It had been a year; a whole year since you’d left. You’d come back to the Outer Banks a few times during the holidays to visit your parents, but you’d never once gone to see him. You had a new boyfriend. JJ had seen him a few times the one time you brought him home with you. He knew he was biased but he didn't like the look of him, he reminded him of Rafe Cameron and he couldn't comprehend why you’d done what you did just to end up with him.

JJ would watch you from afar, making awkward eye contact whenever you ran into him at The Wreck, but neither of you had the courage to say anything. It had been a year but JJ could still read your emotions from a mile away. You looked lonely, abandoned, lost. At least that was what he kept telling himself like a mantra to stop him from breaking down or punching something every time he saw you.

However, he would ask Kie how you were every time you left and she would be brutally honest and tell him you seemed like you were doing fine. And every time he heard those words it would break him a little bit more.

When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you? Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie? If what we had was real, how could you be fine? Cause I’m not fine at all.

JJ remembered the first time he heard him talk to you like that, like you were nothing. You’d accidentally spilt your drink on him at the Wreck and you’d started laughing about it as you would’ve with JJ.

“What the fuck!” He yelled.

“Babe, it’s just soda,” you giggled.

“Yeah and it’s gonna stain my new fucking shirt,” he growled, “god you’re so fucking clumsy.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, but JJ knew that his words had more effect than you lead on.

JJ had stood up from his chair to go confront the asshole but John B grabbed him by his shirt and sat him back down.

“Don’t, JJ...” John B said sadly, knowing it hurt his best friend to see the girl he loved with someone else, but he knew that if he involved himself with you right now it would only hurt him more.

JJ would lay in his bed and wonder how it was possible that you could be so...normal, so okay, so fine. It made his heart ache as he realised what the two of you had must have been a complete and utter lie. There was no way you could just forget about what the two of you had unless it never meant anything to you in the first place.

He would go through periods of hating you, punching the walls in his room and screaming as he convinced himself you’d lied to him the whole time. His life at home hadn't got any better, but at least he could say his father’s punches didn't hurt anymore. The pain was nothing compared to the hole you’d left in his heart. He would take a thousand beatings if it meant he could have you back. But you were fine, and he was far from it.

I remember the day you told me you were leaving I remember the make-up running down your face And the dreams you left behind you didn’t need them Like every single wish we ever made

JJ would replay the moment you left over and over again, trying to fathom how you could have done such a thing to him, the person you claimed to love most.

JJ heard a knock at his door. His dad wasn’t home, but he could come back at any moment, so naturally he was concerned as to why anyone would come see him when he was the one trying to escape this household.

“(Y/N)?” JJ asked, confused as to why you were stood on his porch. “What are you doing here? You know it’s not safe.”

The concern that laced his voice made your heart break as you dreaded what was about to escape your mouth.

“We need to talk...” you replied sadly.

JJ’s heart rate went up. Those words never lead to anything good. He observed your facial expression but you were stoic, the only hint to how distraught you were being the faint dark circles under your eyes that showed you hadn't slept. And you hadn’t. Not a wink.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” JJ asked, the concern in his voice even more evident, except his concern had shifted from your safety to whatever you were about to tell him.

“I-I have to tell you something,” you confessed.

JJ ushered you into his room and sat you down on the edge of his bed, sitting down by your side.

“What is it? You can tell me anything,” JJ continued, being the loving boyfriend that he was.

He had no idea what was coming for him.

“I’m...I’m leaving, JJ,” you sighed, your voice shaking as you feared his response. He tended to lash out when his emotions got the best of him.

“Leaving? What do you mean? Like for a bit?” JJ spouted questions, hope still laced in his voice.

“No, JJ...for quite a while,” you said, the tears that you were holding back finally escaping.

JJ’s eyes widened, his hands balled up into fists.

“W-what?” He choked, tears of his own brimmed his eyes.

“I got this amazing opportunity to study in Europe,” you continued. “I know I’d planned on going to UNC Chapel Hill so I’d be closer to home but I applied for their semester abroad programme not thinking I’d actually get it.”

At this point you were speaking too fast for JJ to even comprehend what you were saying. In fact, he wouldn't have been able to even if you’d spoken slowly.

“A semester, that’s not long?” JJ asked, some hope resurfacing.

“I know and that’s why I applied for a semester but they said they can only offer me the year abroad programme...” you explained, crushing his remaining hope.

“And you’re taking it?” JJ asked angrily, the skin on his knuckles going white from how hard he was clenching his fists.

“J...I have to...you know it’s my dream to study in Paris,” you said, going to rest your hand on his.

He pulled away from your touch instantly, causing your heart to sink.

“How long have you known?” He asked, looking down at the floor.

“Not that lon-” you started before JJ stood up angrily.

“How goddamn long, (Y/N)!” He yelled, looking down at you.

“3 months,” you whispered, letting another tear fall down your cheek.

All you wanted in this moment was for JJ to wipe your tears gently and caress you, hold you, but he couldn't even look at you right now, let alone touch you.

“3 fucking months?!” He yelled, his rage consuming him and anger clouding his vision.

He immediately turned to his wall and punched it with all his force causing a deafening cracking noise.

“JJ your hand!” You exclaimed as you stood up, knowing that was the sound of a bone or two breaking.

“I don't give a shit about my hand right now, (Y/N)!” He turned around to face you.

His eyes had gone dark and his lip was trembling. You did this, and you hated yourself for it.

“How could you keep this from me for 3 months?” JJ’s voice cracked, his own tears finally escaping.

You went to wipe them but again, he flinched away from your touch.

“I wanted this summer to be great, epic even! And it was, JJ it was... like yesterday on the boat, that was one of the best days of my life! I didn’t want it to be ruined by the fact I was leaving,” you cried, your mascara starting to run down your face.

“But it was all a fucking lie, (Y/N)! You do realise that right?” JJ continued shouting, this time tugging at his hair angrily as he paced around his room. It broke you to see him like this but you were the only one to blame.

“Don’t say that J...that’s not true...”

“You don’t get to say that! You knew you were spending your last moments with us, with me. I didn’t!” He yelled, glaring at you. And for the first time ever he looked at you with what looked like resentment, hate.

“Did you just expect me to be fine with this, with you just dropping this on me out of the blue?” He continued.

“No, I didn’t,” you whispered, “but I didn’t want our last summer to have an expiration date on it you know...”

“That is so unbelievably selfish, (Y/N),” JJ stated, his words cutting like knives.

“You’re fucking SELFISH,” he continued, causing more tears to pour down your face.

“JJ please don’t say that...I did this for us, so you could remember us happily!” You sobbed.

“Well you did an excellent job at that, well done,” JJ laughed sarcastically, clapping his hands in a fake applause, “because this isn’t sad at all right?!”

“J-” you started, your whole body shaking at this point.

“No,” he said, “just get out.”

“What?” You whispered, looking at the boy you loved who couldn't even look you in the eyes for more than a second.

“I said get out,” he repeated.

“JJ please, I don’t want us to end like this!” You pleaded, your throat closing up feeling as though it was wrapped in barbed wire.

“I said GET OUT!” He yelled, tears streaming down his face, his voice coated in pain. He hated how he was acting towards you and he knew he’d regret it but he couldn’t look at you. He didn't want to hear your voice right now.

You nodded sadly, wiping your tears, your mascara now smeared on your face and coating your fingers.

“I love you...” you said gently.

You waited a moment to see if he would respond, but he remained silent, refusing to look at you. You sighed in defeat before walking out of his room and out of his life.

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia And forget about the stupid little things Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you And the memories I never can escape

‘Cause I’m not fine at all

That day was scarred into JJ’s mind. There was nothing he regretted more than the way he had acted. He still didn’t understand why you’d hidden it, he would’ve been upset at first, but ultimately he would’ve cherished every day with you even more. But he knew you weren’t selfish, and he knew you didn't mean to hurt him. You were trying to protect him and your last moments together. He still thought you’d gone about it the wrong way and in some ways you did too, but what was done was done. He simply wished he’d had the self control to keep himself from saying the things he did, and to say the things he didn’t.

He never told you he loved you back. That was his biggest regret. He never said goodbye. That was his next regret. You’d left for Paris two weeks after you told him about your year abroad programme there. Two weeks. He could’ve spent every minute of those last two weeks with you, but instead he spent it alone, avoiding you at all costs. His pride stopping him from apologising and his pain stopping him from being around you at all.

It hurt him so much that you’d ended that way, and as much as he wanted to put the blame on you, he knew he played a part in it too. But it was too late to reverse the damage. All he longed for now was to forget. He’d spent a year hoping you would come back and hoping you could go back to being JJ and (Y/N), the power couple of the Outer Banks. But when you came back with him, he realised it was too little too late.

All there was left to do was erase you from his memory.

A/N: holy shit that made me SAD, amnesia is my cry song. FUCKSJF I'm sorry, but like at the same time I'm not cuz like I'm kinda proud of this

tagging some lovely people: @maybe-maybanks , @baby-bearie , @obx-sos , @drewtruly , @drewstarkey , @spilledtee , @thelocalpogue , @heliopvth , @jmaybank , @ruelstyles , @jjmaybanky , @jjmayibeyoursbanks , @jjmayspanks , @ceruleanjj

#jj maybank #outer banks #obx #rudy pankow #outerbanks #jj obx #obx netflix #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #jj x reader

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jaunes-hoodie-my-beloved · 3 years

Note

hi!! how are you doing? could you maybe do some music taste headcanons for the bakusquad? 🥺

Hi! How are you? Thanks for asking, I'm doing fine! Sorry about the late answer, I just have a random music taste and don't know many songs so this got me thinking, y'know? But it was really fun!

Alright so I'm doing classic bakusquad (bakugou, kirishima, mina, sero, denki) + shinsou and Jirou.

BAKUGOU

-Okay so. I think that he has the most complicated taste, right? Because there's many styles that would fit him.

-In one hand, we've got songs with a lot of power and focus on drums, most of which he listened to while learning to play. Nice rhythm, kinda a vibe, right?

-Then there's also part of me that says like, he's got a couple songs that remind him of their friends. Buy they're all kinda very energetic in a "this song SLAPS"

-Has a secret playlist which while it's algo a bit heavy, just had some lyrics he can scream. Whether that means sad lyrics or just rage, that's for you to never know because he won't let anyone find out (it's both tbh)

-Hums and taps a lot so of course Jirou ends up knowing what he listens to.

-All in all has a pretty good taste in music but it's not really for you unless you like that kind of beat.

-Definitely picked up a couple songs from his time with Best Jeanist and whenever someone hears that it's a little shocking because uh, very different styles I suppose.

KIRISHIMA

-Some normal stuff I'd say. Just gives me the vibe of "unironically includes the Shrek song in his playlist". I KNOW IT HAS A NAME I don't know what it is tho.

-Will vibe to anything but really just likes something he can sing to. Unlike Bakugou's "just drum along", Kiri is more of a "I am going to sing and you can't stop me"

-Which is why he has a pretty good range but like. Uh, like instead of being really good at like either high pitched or low or whatever, he's fairly good at all of them.

-Okay so I think he'd be the one who finds a good portion of his playlist through memories, y'know? Instead of going through like recommended stuff, he vibes more to things he can remember fondly. Say, a movie he really liked, or the one song that played during the best day of hanging out, stuff like that.

-Likes meme songs, as long as they're good to him AKA they fit his taste. He'll like never gonna give you up, but he won't really listen to the distraction dance a lot.

-YOU KNOW THOSE MELANCHOLIC SONGS? the ones that are like almost rock but not quite?? Those ones.

MINA

-Ok so a long time ago I saw an edit of the squad singing bubble pop electric and that scenario lives rent free in my head now.

-What I mean is that she listens to like, things to vibe and dance to, and generally goes more ln the trendy side than Bakugou or Kiri do.

-This doesn't exclude genres. Like, if she can dance to it and likes it's vibe, it's going in the playlist. Also sings along a lot, so she and Kiri usually alternate between singing.

-I feel like she'd enjoy the random background music from videos she sees and is like "oh? That slaps" and just finds it so she can vibe to it.

-Has a couple of rather emotional songs that when she sings them, everyone is just like 👁️👄👁️ because she sings so beautifully and with such feeling it gives the song an extra layer of wow, nice.

SERO

-Has quite a number of songs that are the vibe of "remind me of home" and it's a very diverse playlist but it's actually really good.

-In fact, he likes listening to those compilations of "songs that remind you of X year at X place" or whatever.

-Definitely some lo-fi or something nice to vibe to whenever he or his friends are stressed or just wanna hang out and chill.

-I feel like he also listens to some like, acoustic guitar covers of songs or something... I mean just a song he likes in a nice vibe? Go for it.

-Has a couple meme or videogame songs there too, some of them were definitely Denki's recommended, but they were pretty good songs and they're very nice.

-I don't know how to describe this, but sometimes his and Shinsou's playlists have a similar energy even if they don't share a single song (though there's usually a couple songs they both enjoy and sing)

DENKI

-Electronic music is, as you'd expect, a good portion of his playlist. However since I don't really know about that kind of music I can't say much further.

-Meme! Songs! And in this case, it included things like the Coconut Mall song, the don't be suspicious audio, etc. (Can you tell I'm projecting?)

-Of course, trendy songs. Some of them stay on the playlist temporarily, some stay forever.

-Once again I'm projecting. He has a TON of playlists but they're like, actually tried to make one and gave up halfway through because he started saving memes.

-So the playlist that he's got that actually work and he can just put it on and vibe to music without scrolling three hours of memes, are playlists made for him.

-Has some songs that no one ever heard of before but they're absolute bangers too.

-And of course sweet Caroline. That reblog lives rent free in my head now.

SHINSOU

-I have NO idea what his general music taste could be, but I can name a few things I can see.

-Some sad songs to vibe to (Nobody by Mitski, Goodbye to the World (yes the among us song), uh... My music knowledge is lacking tbh. Polish cow! Which he found via Denki I guess)

-Wont admit it but he actually has a couple songs that he found from his dads' playlists. Which I don't know what they are like but you get the idea.

-Will vibe with everyone's music, honestly. They have good taste, yeah, but it's also the "oh I'm too nervous about sharing my music" feeling.

-Also likes specific playlists like Sero does, mostly as background vibes while he does something else.

-ASMR. But like the ones with like keyboard typing, writing on paper, etcetera. The sound of company. But this is mostly whenever he can't just vibe around his cats or get like a group hang out session.

-A couple songs for kids (Eri) that are actually a bop.

JIROU

-Guitar and voice. Like people just grabbing a guitar and singing, whatever that's called. Mostly low-pitched or very melodic.

-A couple of songs that snuck into her playlist after making one for everyone else. And some she added on her own because her friends have good taste.

-Romantic songs!! Personally, I'd like to think she has soft love songs that remind her of Yaomomo, or that Momo herself sent her.

-Movies and series soundtracks. The whole thing of creating a vibe throughout the entire soundtrack is something she likes to see.

-Maybe includes a couple songs of her own when she really likes how they turned out or if she poured a lot of emotions into it. Embarrassed if someone finds out though.

Thanks for the ask!! Hope you liked it.

#⚡ enlightenment from your local chargebolt #⚡ zippity zap zap: arquitecturadelanada #bnha #headcanons #bakusquad

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general-kenobi357 · 3 years

Text

Someday Soon-Chapter 1

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!OC

Summary: The only goal Isabella Bailer has this summer, is to have a good time with her friends, the Pogues. But when they find a ship wreck after a hurricane their summer takes an unexpected turn.

Note: So this is my first fic that I have actually properly finished and I am so excited to share it. I first posted it on Wattpad but I find that I don't really use that platform much so I wanted to post it somewhere I go on often. I hope you enjoy my twist on Outer Banks :) Also the I have written Iz to be as nondescript as I could so that you can imagine her however you want.

Word Count: 10.5k (The first chapter is really long but later on the chapters get shorter.)

🔅🔆🔅

We’re the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

The soft breeze brought the smell of the ocean to my nose while the sun shone brightly on my cheeks. I had to squint to see my friends through the bright rays. As the sun fell lower the day only seemed to get warmer, the beer in my hand brought a cool relief, after taking another drink a smile grew on my face as I listened to the conversation between Pope and John B.

“That’s what, a three-story fall to the deck?” Pope asked, looking up at John B who was currently balancing on one foot on the edge of the roof. We were all hanging around one of the many mini-mansions that were under construction in Figure Eight. “I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival.”

“Hm” John B replied as he stuck a finger into the air pretending to check the direction of the wind. “Should I do it?”

“Yeah, jump.” Pope quipped, pointing a drill at him. “I'll shoot you on the way down.”

“You’ll shoot me?”

“Yep. Pow!”

“They’re gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.” Kie told us shocked, as she emerged from the house that was yet to be finished.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t they?” I inquired somewhat bitterly from my spot sitting next to JJ. Nothing Kooks did surprised me anymore, all they seemed to care about was their own vanity.

“This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about turtles, I guess?” Kie asked, sounding somewhat defeated. I sent her a sad smile, wishing I had more power to change the way things were.

“I can’t have cold towels.” JJ added sarcastically before we all directed our gaze towards John B.

“Can you please not kill yourself?” Kie asked him sweetly as he continued to lean dangerously close to the edge of the building.

“Yeah that would really ruin my summer.” I added, I had protested John B climbing onto the roof in the first place but once that boy got something into his mind, no one could change it.

“And don’t spill that beer. I’m not giving you another one.” JJ warned seconds before the can slipped through John B’s grasp and came crashing onto the deck.

“Whoa! Oh, shit.” John B exclaimed as he attempted to regain his balance on the roof, I turned to look out at the ocean again, not wanting to see him hit the deck as well.

“Of course you did. Smooth.”

“A plus.” Pope commented as he leaned over the side of the deck before looking back at the group. “Hey, uh, security’s here. Let’s wrap it up.”

“Humpty Dumpty, let’s roll.” JJ called to John B while he hopped off of the scaffolding we had been sitting on, before turning around and offering me his hand to help me get down. “Sweetheart?”

“Thank you.” I replied, accepting the hand he held out as I jumped down onto the deck.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” John B agreed as he followed us down.

“Gary, is that you?” JJ called out to the security guard as we gathered our stuff up. “It’s me. Gary, good to see you, man!”

“You’re just asking for it.” I told him as I shook my head trying to hold in my laughter.

“Get ‘em! They’re comin’ your way!” I heard one of the guards shout from behind me as I followed Kie towards the van. “Hey! Stop!”

I spared a glance behind me as I exited the house and saw the guard catching up to JJ.

“Not much of a hugger!” I heard JJ shout as he avoided the guard.

As I ran down the front steps John B pulled up in the van, Kie hopped into the passengers seat as I climbed into the back leaving the side door open for the boys to jump in whenever it was they decided to show up.

“Bus is leaving!” John B called out as he honked the horn. I peered out the back window watching as Pope started climbing over the fence, before promptly falling flat on his face. JJ hoped over next and helped him back to his feet.

“Come on, boys!” Kie called.

I held out my hand for Pope who was struggling to get into the moving van. Once both boys were inside John B stepped on the gas and we all watched Gary hopelessly chase after us. We were all left in a fit of laughter after JJ was done teasing the poor security guard.

🔅🔆🔅

The Outer Bank, Paradise on Earth. It’s the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

All right. So there’s Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don’t live?

And then, there’s the South Side or the Cut. Home to the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of… drumroll, please… the Pogues.

That’s us.

Pogues, Pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest member of the food chain. Okay. So, the downside of the Pogue life is we’re ignored and neglected. But the upside of the Pogue life? We’re ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want. So, let me introduce you to the crew.

First up… JJ Maybank, my best friend since the third grade. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best surfer I know. Just don’t tell him I said that. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.

Next up is Isabella Bailer but we just call her Iz. A former Kook up until she was ten and her dad was caught embezzling money from his company and promptly arrested, her family basically lost everything. Shortly after that she moved in next door. Definitely the Mom of the group, she basically takes care of all of us, and when she’s not cleaning up our messes, she’s working with her Mom, cleaning houses for the Kooks. Iz is the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet until you threaten her friends then you better run the other way and hope she doesn’t find you.

After Iz there’s Kiara Carrera, or Kie, as we call her. When she’s not saving turtles or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I’m not really sure why though. So, she’s a rich kid, actually. Foot in both worlds. Her family owns The Wreck, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash cow with the tourists. You know, I’m not really sure how her parents feel about us. But I think we all have had a thing for her at one point or another.

Finally we have Pope Heyward, the brains of the operation… finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo. His father’s this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Hayward could get for you. Now, I’m not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn’t matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

So, that’s my crew. And my name is John Booker Routledge. I’ve been living on my own for the past nine months in an old fish shack on the marsh. The Château, as my dad used to call it. Where is my dad? Well he disappeared at sea nine months ago, looking for a shipwreck. Who disappears at sea these days? I miss him. Any other possible guardians who could look after me, might be your next question? Well Mom split when I was three. Last I heard she was in Colorado and Uncle T who is supposedly my legal guardian is currently in Mississippi, building houses…

Which means it’s just me right now, on my own, hangin’ with my friends.

🔅🔆🔅

I swung lazily in the hammock that sat between John B’s house and my own as I watched the water. The sun was starting to rise higher and I could already tell it was going to be another long hot day. I was lost in my own thoughts until I felt the hammock dip to the side. Glancing up I gave John B a small smile as he tried to readjust the balance of the hammock.

“You know I really hate this thing?” He told me still struggling.

“I know it's ‘cause you don’t know how to relax.” I replied, teasing him as I shifted to help balance the hammock after the change in weight.

“I’m gonna take it down one of these days.” He threatened, finally leaning back.

“No, I love this hammock, it's my favorite spot.”

“I know I’m only teasing you, I’m not sure you would ever talk to me again if I took away your hammock.”

“You’re damn right I wouldn't.” I told him attempting to sound serious before letting out a laugh. We laid quietly for a few minutes before I spoke up again. “So do you have big plans today?”

“Um, yes.” He responded after taking a moment to think. “I get to go down to social services and talk to some people about how there are no responsible adults in my life.”

“Oh that sounds like sooo much fun.”

“I know right? You want to come with me?”

“As much as I would love that, JJ said he was going to take me out so I could practice driving the boat.” I had my license but I was not the best driver on land and I had barely ever driven in the water.

“Oooh you and JJ alone on a boat?” John B asked, stretching out his words and wiggling an eyebrow at me. He loved to tease me about the very obvious crush that I had on JJ every chance he got. At his teasing I took the half empty beer he had brought out with him much to his protest.

“No, number one, you and I both know that I will never be brave enough to make a move, number two, no Pogue on Pogue macking and number three I think that Pope said he was coming with us.” I rambled about the many reasons why what John B was suggesting would never happen before I downed the rest of the beer and handed back the empty bottle.

“Wow, thanks, I wanted to drink that.” He commented on the bottle in the grass beside us, I shrugged my shoulders as if to tell him he should have expected it after his teasing. “Also if I were you I’d go confirm that JJ still knew this was happening because he’s inside with a girl right now and they looked like they might be awhile.”

“Seriously?” I groaned trying to cover up my jealousy with annoyance. I knew that I had no right to be jealous, JJ didn’t belong to me and I was far too scared to ever confess how I really felt, not that I could even figure out how I really felt. But it still hurt to see him with different girls all the time. “I guess I’ll go investigate.”

I quickly stood from the hammock before thinking, but it was too late. As I turned around and watched the hammock flip and John B tumble off onto the grass below.

“Thanks for the heads up.” He grumbled as I helped him to his feet.

“Sorry. I forgot how terrible you are at sitting in a hammock.” I said trying to cover the smile on my face.

“Yeah laugh it up, your friend just got attacked by a hammock, real funny.” He replied pretending to be upset as he dusted the dirt off of himself.

“I mean it is kind of funny.” I called over my shoulder as I made my way back towards The Château to find out who was around. “I’ll see you later John B.”

I stepped onto the porch only to find Pope stretched out on the couch fast asleep. ‘I suppose he won’t be joining us.’ I thought as I walked past him into the house.

In the main room Kie laid on the pull out couch blowing clouds of vapor above her. I sent her a soft smile which she returned before I turned the corner towards the bedrooms in the Château.

Only one of the room's doors was closed so I figured that was where JJ was. I raised my hand to knock on the door but the sound of a shrill giggle stopped me. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know what was going on so my hand retracted back from the door and I walked back towards where Kie was.

I laid down beside her with a sigh. Kie shifted closer to me as we both just hung out.

“I’m pretty sure it’s some Touron who’ll be gone by the end of the week.” Kie finally spoke up, I raised my head to send her a questioning look. “The girl in there.” She added pointing to the room JJ was in.

“Oh.” I nodded laying back down. I stared back up at the ceiling, contemplating whether I wanted more details about this girl. “Was she pretty?”

“I didn’t get a good look.” She responded.

“Huh.” I responded, unsure if she was telling the truth or just trying to make me feel better. “Are you working today?” I asked, wanting to change the subject before I thought about JJ anymore.

“Um, yeah. I have to leave soon.” Kie responded, glancing at the time on her phone. “Did you want to come with me, I might be able to sneak out fries for you.”

“No, I better stay here. I think my Mom has a few things she wants me to do before the storm tonight.” I responded, I also still half hoped that JJ would want to hang out.

“Okay, well I’m sure that I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, smiling as she stood to gather her stuff.

“Yeah, tomorrow morning we’ll all go out and check out the damage.” I responded, standing up as well.

“Love you.” She cooed, pulling me into a hug.

“Love you too.” I responded, before we both let go of each other. She then grabbed her backpack and headed for the door. “Stay safe!” I called after her as she walked towards her car.

After Kie had left I had made my way to the dock, which is where I was now sitting watching the stormy clouds that were forming out in the open water.

“Hey.” Pope spoke softly, alerting me to his presence, before he sat down next to me.

“Hey, I figured you were going to sleep all day.” I teased, sparing a glance at him.

“Yeah, I guess I was more tired than I thought.” He responded with a smile. “It looks like it’s gonna be bad.” He added, referring to the dark clouds that were beginning to move closer.

“Yeah I just hope it isn’t too loud, last year Emmy had nightmares all summer from the thunder.” I said, remembering how bad my little sister’s nightmares had gotten.

“Well there aren't any thunderstorms in Agatha’s path so there shouldn’t be much thunder this time.” He informed me.

“You are too smart for me, Pope.” I said with a smile.

“Speaking of smart things, we should bring in the boat before it ends up in a tree somewhere down the road.” He said, I looked over at the boat which had sat in the water by the dock all day, waiting for us. I was more than a little bitter over the fact that JJ had stood me up. “Iz?” Pope asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, yeah let’s bring in the boat.” I finally responded before standing up to help Pope.

We were able to bring in the boat before Pope had to head home to help out his Dad and I walked back to my house to help my Mom before the storm hit.

🔅🔆🔅

The next morning I woke up to the sound of someone clattering around in the kitchen. After getting dressed I walked out to see my Mom and Emmy at the kitchen table eating breakfast in the dark.

“No power?” I asked as I flipped the switch knowing nothing would happen.

“Nope.” My Mom replied as she walked past me to put her bowl in the sink. “And no water. I’m gonna pick up another tank of water from Heyward on my way home from work. Seems like the storm took out the whole island. Listen I know that you wanna hang out with your friends but I need you to take down all the storm shutters at some point.”

“Mom the day after a hurricane is a free day.” I argued, I knew better than to argue with her most of the time but I still had to try.

“I know and I’m not saying right this minute but at some point it would be nice.” She surprised me with her reply, most days I would get a lecture about talking back.

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked checking her forehead temperature.

“Yeah are you feeling okay Mommy?” Emmy parroted from behind us, one of her new hobbies.

“Yes, I’m feeling fine.” She said, swatting my hand away from her forehead. “I’m trying to be nice, this is your last summer before you graduate and I know you’ve been working a lot.”

“Okay…” I replied, still suspicious that this was some kind of trick. Quickly kissing her cheek, I grabbed my bag and kissed the top of Emmy’s head, jogging to the door I left the house before she could change her mind. “I’ll see you when you get home.”

I heard them both say goodbye as I closed the door behind me and made my way over to where John B and JJ were standing clearing branches off the HMS Pogue.

“Mornin’ boys.” I greeted the pair as I helped them finish clearing off the boat.

“Someone's in a good mood.” John B suggested as he made his way over to the side of the boat I was standing by. “You and JJ have fun?” He asked in a quieter voice.

“Nope, he completely blew me off. I don’t even think he remembered.” I replied, biting the inside of my cheek trying to not show my disappointment. “But it’s fine, today is a free day and we are going to enjoy it.” I said putting a smile back on my face as I looked over to where JJ stood oblivious to mine and John B’s conversation.

🔅🔆🔅

“Well, look who we have here.” JJ taunted as we pulled up to the Heyward’s dock.

“We have a safety meeting. Attendance mandatory.” John B added pretending to speak into a walkie talkie.

“I can’t. My Pop’s got me on lockdown.” Pope replied sadly.

“Come on, man” JJ grumbled from his spot beside me. “Your dad’s a pussy. Over.” he commented speaking into his own pretend walkie talkie. I turned to look at him surprised as I hit his arm lightly. “What? He is?” JJ tried to defend.

“Oh, I heard that, you little bastard.” Heyward scolded JJ.

“We need your son.” I said as I directed my attention to Heyward. “Island rules. Day after a hurricane’s a free day.”

“Who made that up?” Heyward demanded moving closer to the boat.

“Uh… Pentagon, I think. We have security clearance.” I added, trying to come up with excuses.

“Yeah, I have a card.” JJ tried to add to my story.

“You think I’m stupid?” Heyward challenged.

“I'll do it tomorrow. I promise. Tomorrow.” Pope told his dad, getting ready to get into the boat.

“You think... No, no. Hell no. You doin' it right now.” Heyward told Pope as he hopped into the boat. “Bring your ass back up here.”

“I promise I'll do it tomorrow, Dad.” Pope assured his father as we started to float away.

“We’ll bring him back in one piece.” I called back to Heyward as we started to speed off towards Kie’s dock.

🔅🔆🔅

After picking up Kie, Pope had taken over driving the boat and the rest of us were sitting around watching JJ attempt one of his many tricks that he had tried a million times but that never seemed to work the way he wanted it to.

“You’re getting beer in my hair!” Kie reprimanded JJ.

In an attempt to avoid the same fate as Kie I stood up from my spot beside her. But just as I got to my feet I felt the boat shift under me and jolt to the side throwing me off the edge. After a moment underwater I realized what had happened and swam back to the surface.

“Jesus, Pope!” I heard Kie berate Pope.

“You okay, JJ?” John B asked, I assumed he had also been sent overboard.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head.” I heard JJ reply from the other side of the boat.

“Kie, you okay?” John B asked, shifting his concern away from JJ.

“I’m all right.” Kie answered John B after a moment of pause. “Where’s Iz?”

“Over here.” I called from where I was treading water, a moment later I saw JJ swimming over to where I was. We made eye contact for a moment before he scanned that rest of my face with concern making sure I was good. I gave him a reassuring smile before looking back at our friends on the boat.

“Guys... I think there's a boat down there.” Pope said looking out from the ledge of the Pogue.

“Shut up. What?” Kie asked moving to look into the water. “No way.”

“No, no, guys. I'm serious. There's a boat down there.” Pope added confidently. “For real. “

“Holy shit, he's right. Let's go.” Kie said, getting ready to jump into the water.

We all dove down as deep as we could and sure enough a sunken boat was sitting below the surface.

“You guys saw that?” JJ asks as we all come up for air. A chorus of agreement followed JJ’s question as we looked at each other shocked. “That’s a Grady-White. A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy. That’s a primo rig.”

“Yeah. That's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge.” John B informed us after we had all climbed back into the Pogue.

“You surfed the surge?” I asked, concern filling my thoughts.

“What the heck John B?” Kie added in the same tone.

“That's my boy. Pogue style.” JJ congratulated him, as John B nodded confirming what he had just said.

“Wait, wait. Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asked curiously, wanting to know more about the wreck.

“No, but we're about to find out.” John B replied as he went to grab the anchor of the boat.

“Dude, it's too deep.” JJ warned as John B made his way over to the edge of the boat.

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ.” John B challenged as he readjusted the anchor in his grip.

“Well, I'm not resuscitating you. I'm just making that clear up front.”

“That's fine.”

“Diver down, fool.” Pope said while giving John B a mock salute.

“Diver down.” We all called as JJ pushed John B off the side of the boat. We all leaned over the side of the boat anxiously waiting for John B to come back up.

“Should we go get him?” I asked the others in a concerned voice. It felt like he had been gone for ages at this point and I couldn't spot him in the murky water. Moments after I spoke John B broke the surface tension in a fit of coughs.

“Oh, my God. That took forever!” Kie said, relieved as we all allowed John B some space to climb onto the Pogue.

“I found this motel key.” John B supplied holding up the key while he got into the boat.

“Great! We salvaged a motel key.” JJ spoke sarcastically as I inspected the key that John B had found.

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard.” Kie suggested “Maybe we'll get a finder's fee.”

“Yeah, and not work all summer.” JJ added, hopefully as we speed off toward town. “Thanks, Agatha, ya batch.”

🔅🔆🔅

After an unsuccessful talk with the coast guard, as in we were completely ignored because they had no interest in what a group of teenagers had to say, we decided to head straight to the source and check out the motel.

The boat slowed down as we got closer to the motel and began to take in the scene before us. It was a disaster, mattresses thrown on the lawn, windows broken, and trees that had been uprooted or close to it. I had to wonder how much of this damage was caused by the hurricane and how much was caused by a neglectful owner.

“I thought the Château looked bad.” JJ commented from the front of the boat.

“This place is a shitshow.” John B added.

“Doesn't look like a place somebody with a Grady-White stays.” I said, confused as to why someone with such a nice boat would be staying somewhere so rundown.

“No. Looks like a place someone with a Grady-White would get killed.” Pope suggested.

“All right. Here we go.” JJ started jumping out of the boat ready to tie us to the shore. “This is your captain speaking. HMS Pogue comin' in for landing.”

“We good?” John B asked, standing beside me.

“Yeah, we good.” JJ confirmed.

“All right. Here goes nothin'.” I stated, while I tried to take the key from Pope’s hand, who had elected to stay on the boat with Kie as lookouts.

“Hey.” Pope said seriously, while he held the key just out of reach.

“Yeah?”

“Don't let them do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, I’ll try.” I gave Pope a reassuring smile as he passed me the key, still holding a look of uncertainty on his face.

“Uh, be careful.” I heard Kie tell John B from behind me. “I mean it.”

JJ offered me his hand as I jumped out of the boat but I just ignored it, still a little mad that he had forgotten about me the day before. I made eye contact with him for a moment and saw a look of confusion grace his features before disappearing. I began walking away from the boat as JJ waited a moment for John B to finish talking to Kie. I listened to them talking behind me.

“Just be so careful, John.” I heard JJ tease as I started making my way across the front lawn of the hotel.

“God, you're so weird.” John B replied.

“What was that about?”

“I don't know. Maybe she wants us to be careful?”

“Ever since she heard you're being threatened with exile, she's just been, like, <Oh! Be so careful, John B.>” JJ mimicked what Kie had told John B earlier as we started to climb the stairs to the second floor. “<Oh, just give me that John D already.> Just ask Iz she sees it too, right Iz?” JJ asked me.

I paused for a moment when I reached the top of the stairs, turning around to meet JJ’s eyes

“Are you done?” I asked in a sour tone.

“What?” He responded with confusion evident in his voice and the smile falling from his face. I rolled my eyes before turning around and beginning to count room numbers. “Why are you so mad at only me? What’d I do?”

“Dude.” I heard John B start saying. “You completely blew her off yesterday.”

I was curious what else they said to each other but their voices became muffled as I walked too far ahead. Stopping at the end of the hall in front of room twenty-nine. I turned to find the boys jogging towards me, John B gave me a small smile and JJ had a look that almost resembled remorse on his face.

“This is it?” John B asked as JJ took the key that I was holding up in front of me.

“Housekeeping.” JJ called out in a shrill voice knocking a few times on the door.

“Should we try it?” John B asked, pointing to the key in JJ’s hand.

“No power. No security cameras. No one's gonna know.” JJ reasoned as he pushed the key into the lock. It felt like we could still get in trouble if we were caught but before I could voice my concerns JJ was already half way into the room.

“Huh.” I muttered, as the two of us followed JJ in. It was dark and smelled of mildew, definitely not the kind of place someone would stay if they had the funds to buy a Grady-White.

“Check the bag. See if there's a name on there somewhere.” John B instructed JJ as I moved past the pair to open the blinds at the side of the room.

“A jacket.”

“No name on the jacket?”

“No. It's a nice jacket, though.”

“Definitely over 50. He's got New Balances.”

I listened to their conversation as I walked across the small room into the bathroom. As I moved through the bathroom and rustled through the medicine cabinet, I heard the beeping of a safe in the other room.

“Uh… JJ? Iz? You’re gonna want to see this” I heard John B call from the other room.

Entering the room I looked at John B first who was looking over to where JJ stood with wide eyes. Following John B’s line of sight my own eyes widened as I realized what JJ was holding.

“Is that a gun?” I asked as if it could be anything else.

“Put the gun back, JJ!” John B tried to reason with him.

“This is a fucking spendy gatt, man. Just…” JJ said, eyes wide like a kid in a candy store. “Bam! Bam!” He mimicked the sound of a gun as he pointed it around the room.

“JJ, we’re not stealing anything.” John B told him for the hundredth time.

“Just take a pic of me. Right here.” JJ pleaded with John B, but my attention had shifted to the sound of a rock landing on the window sill.

I pushed past the boys as they continued arguing with each other, and looked out the window.

“Cops. Cops!” I could see Kie and Pope whisper yell while they pointed in the direction of the door. Turning around quickly I waved at the boys to get their attention.

“Guys, the cops are here.” I told them in a hushed tone. John B moved towards the door to see if he could hear anything. “How are we gonna get out?” I asked them, feeling panic start to rise through my chest.

“Out the window?” John B suggested as he pushed open the small window as far as it would go.

With John B out first and standing to the right of the window, I followed quickly behind him moving to the left so that JJ could get out. In an attempt to keep us from being seen JJ pressed me against the wall of the motel, which meant that I was now pinned between him and the wall. My chest rose and fell unevenly as I squeezed my eyes shut hoping the cops couldn’t see us. As we we’re standing on the ledge I felt JJ’s hand grab on to mine and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Listen Sweetheart, I’m sorry I ditched you yesterday. I didn’t mean to forget.” JJ whispered to me, his head was right next to my ear and I could feel his breath fan out against my skin as he spoke.

“As much as I appreciate your apology, I really don’t think this is the time JJ.” I whispered back terrified of every word that left my tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right, sorry.” JJ replied, shifting his weight slightly.

“Guys! Shut. Up.” John B whisper yelled from where he stood on the ledge.

As we both turned to look at John B I felt cold metal touch my free hand, startling me I pulled my hand back swiftly and as I did I heard a clattering as something fell from the ledge.

“JJ, tell me that wasn’t what I think it was?” I demanded as quietly as I could.

“Well you tell me what you think it was and then I’ll tell you it wasn’t.” He said and I could hear the smirk in his voice, shocking me that he could still be joking when we were about to be caught at any moment, I rolled my eyes at him.

🔅🔆🔅

After our narrow escape from the motel, myself and the Pogues were headed towards town, discussing what we were going to do next.

“The cops took everything like it was a crime scene.” John B stated still sounding shocked at what he had seen back at the motel.

“Did you guys find anything?” Pope asked us curiously. My gaze shifted to JJ as I already knew what he had taken.

“Did we find anything? No, I don't think so. Oh, yeah, we did.” JJ responded smiling as he held up the gun, and to my surprise a wad of cash. I let my head fall into my hands wondering how JJ could be so dumb.

“What the hell?” Pope asked standing, panic written all over his features.

“Dude, chill.” JJ started walking over to where Pope stood. “Better than cops having it.”

“I'm gonna lose my merit scholarship.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Sh, sh, sh, sh, sh.” JJ said, grabbing Pope by the shoulders in an attempt to calm him down. “At least you have us, right?”

“I'm living the nightmare.”

🔅🔆🔅

After a trip to the marina and witnessing Scooter Grubbs get taken away by a coroner, we were back at the Château trying to figure out what to do next.

“Okay. So, um... we didn't see anything.” Pope spoke up as he paced in front of us all. “We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia.”

“Actually, Pope's right for once.” JJ stated, looking at us all. “See, I agree with you sometimes.” He assured Pope. “Deny, deny, deny.”

“Guys, we can't keep that money.” Kie piped into the conversation. “We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it's bad karma.”

“Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too.” I added referring to the gun JJ was still in possession of.

“We gotta go dark.” Pope suggested.

“None of it makes sense.” John B finally said, breaking his silence. “This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about. Same dude that's buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White? Just sayin'.”

“So how does a marina rat get a Grady-White?” I asked, thinking out loud.

“Prostitution.” Pope suggested making me laugh under my breath.

“Okay...” John B stated, trying to move past Pope's comment. “Or maybe they're trying to fly under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don't do that stuff during a hurricane. What does that mean? JJ?”

“They were straight smugglin'.” JJ finished John B’s thought.

“Smugglin'.” John B confirmed. “And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck.”

“For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on the inside of it…” Pope said and I could tell he was thinking about all the terrible outcomes. “...it probably belongs to someone else.”

“Minor details.”

“They could come looking for it.” Pope warned. “Taking it would be catastrophically stupid.”

“Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” JJ reasoned holding up the money that he had now decided belonged to us. “All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck.”

“Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal.” John B added.

“Right. And how exactly do we do that?” I asked. I still felt like Pope was making a lot of good points that the others were not listening to.

“Kegger?” Kie suggested looking at the rest of us for confirmation.

🔅🔆🔅

You can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, the working-class derelicts. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless. Here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks.

Later in the day after the sun had set, the kegger was coming to life, basically the entirety of the island's teen population was in attendance and the beach was getting pretty crowded. Earlier on I had been hanging around with JJ, all had been forgiven between us and we were back to cracking jokes.

Up until JJ spotted a girl he wanted to flirt with and I was left alone. Since then I had started chatting with a couple of Tourons who had taken one surfing lesson earlier in the week and now thought they knew everything about the sport. Desperate to make my escape I searched through the crowd for my friends. Just as I was about to make up an excuse I heard shouting from the water.

“Sorry, I have to go.” I told the pair lamely. “I think that’s my friends calling me.”

“Okay. Bye.” They replied as I walked away.

Much to my horror, once I had reached the shore it turned out to actually be my friends shouting, and the shouting had turned into a full out fight. I recognized John B in the water but the Kook he was fighting had their back facing me. I pushed my way through the crowd once I spotted Kie and made my way to stand beside her.

“What the hell is going on?” I asked, looking at her face which was covered in fear.

“Topper and John B started arguing and now they're trying to kill each other.” Kie answered, watching as the fight got worse. That’s when I noticed the Kook Princess, Sarah Cameron, trying to calm down her angry boyfriend.

I used to know Topper when I was young. We had been friends but when I had moved to the Cut we lost touch. Now as he stood over John B I barely recognized him. He wasn’t the young boy I had once known, now he was a cruel person who thought he was better than others just because his parents had money.

“Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?” I heard Topper challenge John B.

After that comment I had had enough and I was desperately looking around the crowd trying to figure out what I could do to stop them. I felt useless as I definitely couldn’t just jump in there, I had no idea how to fight. But we had to do something before Topper killed John B.

As my eyes scanned the crowd I noticed JJ who was already looking at me. His once bright eyes looked dark and it seemed like he knew exactly what he was about to do. I shook my head as I tried to make my way over to him, but he was already stalking towards where Topper and John B fought. I had a feeling I knew what he was about to do but I didn’t want to believe it.

I held my breath as I heard the crowd go silent when JJ clicked the gun's safety off.

“Yeah, you know what that is.” JJ threatened as Topper pulled away from John B. “Your move, broski.”

“Come on. Chill, dude!” Topper responded, trying to reason with him.

“Put the gun down.” Sarah cried desperately.

“Did you say somethin', Princess?” JJ asked, not taking his eyes off of Topper.

“We're good. We're good.” Topper tried to tell him, raising his hands in surrender.

“Kie! Iz! Can you check your psycho friend, please?” I heard Sarah screaming behind me pulling me out of the trance I had been frozen in. I took a few steps closer to JJ but I didn’t want to get too close when he had a gun pointed at someone. I had seen him get in fights before but never like this, this was different. I really thought that he might kill Topper and that terrified me.

“JJ.” I spoke softly so as to not startle him. He turned to glance back at me but kept the gun pointed at Topper who was looking back at us. “Think about what you’re doing.” I continued speaking calmly, meanwhile I could hear Sarah practically sobbing behind me. “You have to let him go.” I said, at this JJ nodded ever so slightly before pulling the gun away from Topper.

“Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!” JJ yelled into the crowd of people before shooting the gun into the air.

The second JJ moved Topper was out of sight and Sarah wasn’t far behind. While Kie and Pope began to berate JJ over his actions I ran into the water to go check on John B.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked John B once I reached him, holding his shoulders so he wouldn’t fall back into the water. He mumbled back something incoherent as he swayed in my grasp. “Guys! Can you help?” I asked the three Pogues who still stood arguing behind me.

With their help we got John B out of the water and closer to the fire that had been started a while ago. We all sat silently there for sometime before John B was able to get up again and we all headed home.

🔅🔆🔅

After a sleepless night, we were all back together at the Château, I sat next to Kie as she lazily hit a pair of bongos that sat on the table between us and Pope. JJ was further away in the yard throwing god knows what into the grass. I stood up as I saw John B make his way over to us. Meeting him halfway between the main house and where the rest of our friends were I pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

“What was that for?” He asked, chuckling while he looked at me.

“I’m just glad to see you’re okay. I can’t lose you, any of you guys.” I explained making myself think back to last night.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” He joked trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, I know.” I said the smile returning to my face. “Hey, by the way I saw the cop car driving away this morning, is everything okay?”

“Eh, it’s alright Peterkin stopped by, told me to stay out of trouble and to clean up the house.” John B explained as we made our way over to the others. “Look, I'm callin' it off. All right?” John B announced to everyone. “Peterkin said, if I stay out of the marsh, she'll help me with DCS.”

“And you believed her?” JJ questioned.

“Yes, I believe her, JJ.”

“An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop.” He added, trying to make his point.

“All I gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days, and she'll help me out. It doesn't help that your ass was the one shooting a gun.”

“You know what I should have done? Just let Topper drown your ass.”

“Topper was gonna drown me?”

“Sure looked like it.”

“Alright, calm down.” I spoke up trying to get them to stop.

“Come on. They always win, don't they, man? Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win!” JJ started to raise his voice.

“Look, it's okay!” Kie reasoned, also trying to help me calm them down.

“No, it's not okay!” JJ argued, turning his attention to John B. “It is not! They don't want us to go down into the marsh. That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it. I know you do. And I understand why you don't wanna go. You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk.” JJ added pointing a finger at Pope. “ And you...I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother?” He asked Kie. “But us three.” He finished looking at John B and I. “We got nothin' to lose!”

“I don't want to talk about this.” John B told JJ as he began to walk away.

“So that's it?” JJ asked and I could tell he was losing hope in John B.

“Just get out of my way, bro.”

“John B, listen to me. I have a plan.”

JJ telling us he had a plan? That was never a good start.

🔅🔆🔅

We all gathered around Kie who was inspecting the tanks that John B had stolen from the Cameron's. JJ had tried to argue that we were going to return them so technically we were just borrowing them but I didn’t think the Cameron's would see it that way or the cops they would inevitably call if they found out.

“This is empty. You took empty tanks? I…” Kie told John B sounding defeated. “Okay, this one's a quarter full. It's enough for one of us. Love it when a plan comes together. Does anybody know how to dive?”

“It's kind of a Kook sport.” JJ replied.

“I... read about it.” Pope responded cautiously.

“Great, Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die.” Kie reasoned.

“Look, y-you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?” JJ asked.

“If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends.” Pope told him.

“Bends like, bend over and…” JJ asked, making me roll my eyes at him.

“The bends kill you.” Pope said seriously and JJ straightened up.

“I can do it.” I finally said standing up at the front of the boat. “I went diving a few times with my dad when I was younger.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” JJ stated, a look of worry crossing his features.

“I’ll be fine, it’s like riding a bike, you don’t forget.” I reasoned. “Right?”

“Let me do some calculations real quick.” Pope said while he looked through his bag for a notebook.

“Are you serious? You’re gonna do some calculations right now?” John B teased Pope with a smile on his face.

“Hey, let the man do his calculations, alright?” JJ told John B before glancing over at me again.

“That boat's about 30 feet down. Okay.” Pope stated, thinking out loud. “So it'll take 25 minutes at that depth.”

“Twenty-five.” I confirmed half listening to him half focusing on keeping my hands from shaking, suffice to say I was a little nervous.

“Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... ten feet. All right? For two minutes.”

“Okay, ten feet, two minutes.” I confirmed, attempting to remember everything he was telling me.

Kie suddenly stood up from her spot and jumped off the side of the boat, disappearing into the dark water.

“What was that all about?” Pope asked, distracted.

“I don't know, but I liked it. A lot.” JJ commented.

“Anything else I need to know?” I asked, looking at the boys who were all very clearly still thinking about what Kie had just done.

“All right. Yeah. Uh, when you... uh, when you're down there, you look for the cargo hold.” John B stated remembering where he was.

“You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?” JJ told me, holding up a key and miming it in the air.

“Yeah I think I know how a lock works JJ.” I told him sarcastically, as I took the key from his grasp.

“Hey! I tied my T-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down.” Kie said finally emerging from the water. “It's where you need to do your safety stop.”

“Okay, thanks.” I responded giving her a smile before pulling the heavy tank onto my back. I could barely pull the straps tight because of how much my hands were shaking. Seeing me struggle, JJ made his way over to me and finished strapping me in. Giving a thumbs up as he took a step back.

“Keep an eye on this.” Pope said, pointing to the console attached to the tank before handing it to me. “You need to make sure you have enough air to decompress.”

“Okay, how much do I need?” I asked.

“Unclear.” He answered truthfully after a brief pause. “Breathe as little as possible.”

“Zen. Think Zen, you know?” JJ commented trying to get me to relax. He took my hand in his while I looked around at everyone.

“Yeah. Got it.” I responded, moving closer to the edge of the boat.

“Hey, if we get caught in the marsh, we're basically screwed, so... better get a move on.” Pope said. I knew he was just trying to be helpful but it did not help me feel very Zen.

I was about to pull down my mask from where it was sitting on top of my head when I realized JJ still had a tight grip on my hand.

“I’m gonna need this.” I told him, holding up our interlocked hands.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” He said, awkwardly letting go of my hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “Be careful, yeah?”

“I’ll be fine.” I responded, but I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him of myself. “Diver down?”

“Diver down.” My friends all confirmed as I pulled the mask down over my face before jumping into the water.

🔅🔆🔅

A couple of minutes after Iz had dove off the edge of the Pogue, the rest of the group sat waiting anxiously in silence for their friend to return. Well everyone but JJ who was currently pacing back and forth across the floor of the small boat, seemingly mumbling something under his breath about how Iz would be fine. The other Pogues watched, baffled as to how he could do things like this and yet still not realize how he truly felt about the girl who had just dove into the water.

JJ and the rest of the Pogues were pulled out of their thoughts by the sound of sirens and the flashing lights of a police boat.

“Shit.” Kie said, alerting everyone that the cops were pulling up next to them.

“Guys, that's the police.” Pope said, the panic in his voice rising with each word.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” John B said standing up.

“Yep, that's the police. Just act frickin' normal.” JJ confirmed what they were all seeing, meanwhile acting the least natural the Pogues had ever seen him. JJ never panicked. “Evening, officers.”

“How you kids doing?” Deputy Shoupe asked the group, passing a rope over to connect the boats. “You know the marsh is closed?”

“No. No. Wow. I didn't know that. Why... Why is it closed?” Pope asked, trying to look calm.

“Well, we're conducting a search out here. Boat went down. Seen anything?”

“No. No boats. No.” John B responded.

“Where's your other friend you always hang out with? Who’s that, Bailer’s kid, uh, Isabella? She here?” Shoupe asked.

“She's working.” Kie lied.

“Hm.” Shoupe hummed, not entirely convinced. “I'm gonna check your little boat out.”

“Yeah, hop aboard.” John B said, waving a hand. “You wanna check... uh, check her out.”

Meanwhile below the surface Iz had found what she was looking for and began unlocking the hold.

After Shoupe had inspected their life jackets, he made his way to the front of the boat, putting his sunglasses on and looking out onto the water. From the back of the boat JJ also scanned the water, he thought that he saw something move beneath the surface and prayed that Shoupe hadn’t seen the same thing.

🔅🔆🔅

After getting into the hold I found a small bag and took it with me as I swam towards the anchor of the boat so I could make my safety stop before heading back up.

From my spot ten feet below the surface I looked up, noticing the shadow of a new boat and someone looking into the water. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment as if that would help me keep from getting caught before opening them and looking at the console in my left hand. There was less than thirty seconds of air left and I was panicking even more than before.

Just in time the figure left and moments later the second boat disappeared. With my last breath of air I swam to the surface pulling off my mask as I took a huge breath of fresh air.

“There she is!” JJ pointed at me letting out a sigh of relief. “Don’t scare us like that!”

“How'd it go down there?” John B asked as I made my way to the ladder on the back of the boat.

“Did you find anything?” Pope asked, pulling me up.

“Did I find anything?” I answered the question by holding up the small duffle bag that I had found in the hold.

“Yeah, there we go! That's my girl!” JJ hollered scooping me up into a hug as John B took the bag from me.

“Jeez.” I laughed as JJ let go of me again and Kie made her way to my side.

“You okay?” She asked, a look of concern painting over her usual happy expression.

“Yeah, I ran out of air.” I said trying not to worry her but realizing my words did the opposite of that.

“You scared the shit out of me.” JJ said, snaking an arm around my waist. I knew he just thought of me as a friend but his actions still gave me butterflies, it was nice to know he cared.

“Yeah, the cops were up here, but, uh... we took care of 'em.” Pope informed me.

“Hey, guys? Guys, bogey, two o'clock.” Kie said, pulling us from our previous conversation.

“Do you recognize that boat?” Pope asked.

“I've never seen it.”

“What are they doing here? The marsh is closed.” John B asked and I couldn’t help but smile at the irony of his words, after all we knew better than to be there and yet here we were.

“Let's not stick around and find out.” JJ stated, moving to the front of the boat.

“Should we wait on 'em?” Pope asked.

“Are you joking?” I asked, helping start the boat up. “JJ, hurry up.”

“Guys, don't wait for me. Go.” JJ told us as he pulled the anchor up as fast as he could.

“Go right.” I suggested to John B who was standing behind the wheel, thinking if we went further into the marsh they might not follow us.

“Let's go!” Kie rushed as the boat turned behind us. “Hey, guys, they're following us.”

“This can't be good.” I said as JJ moved to stand beside me.

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” JJ urged John B as the boat began to gain on us.

“I'm going!” He said while trying to maneuver the marsh that was filled with thick weeds.

Looking back I noticed that one of the men had leant down and was now standing back up holding something I could quite make out.

“Uh, guys what is that?” I asked as everyone but John B looked back.

“What the…” Pope started but the rest of his question died out at the sound of a gunshot.

As everyone one dropped down to the floor of the boat I felt as if I had been pushed, there was a heavy weight on my chest.

“Holy shit!” I heard Kie mutter as I opened my eyes realizing that JJ was on top of me. This was now the second time in the past two days that I had been pinned between JJ and another surface. Had it been under different circumstances I might have been able to enjoy it.

“John B, get down!” I heard JJ yell as I felt the vibrations of his voice echo through my own chest.

“We're gonna die!” I heard Pope say hopelessly from beside me.

“Shit! Pope, move.” Kie muttered, I couldn’t see much but I thought I saw Kie walking to the back of the boat carrying something.

“Get down, Kie!” John B yelled as the man in the other boat continued to shoot at us.

Then the shooting stopped as the sound of the other boat died out.

“Oh my god.” Pope sighed, sounding very relieved as everyone started to get back up except for JJ.

“JJ?” I asked, looking up at him. His face turned towards me, inches away from mine as he hovered over me.

“Yeah?” He asked, sounding completely oblivious.

“You gonna let me get up?” I asked, smiling.

“Oh, yeah, sorry about that Sweetheart.” He said standing before he offered me his hand. A look flashed across his face that I couldn’t quite recognize, if I didn’t know better I would think it was disappointment?

🔅🔆🔅

After arriving back at the Château we all gathered on the dock. To take a look at what I had found in the hold of the Grady-White.

“What do you think it is?” Kie asked us.

“Gotta be money, right?” John B responded with another question.

“That or a couple of keys with street value from the low-to-mid-mils!” JJ added.

“Can we please just open the bag?” Pope let out looking impatient.

“Wow, Pope. That's a rare outburst of emotion.” John B teased as he stretched out the wait even longer.

“Okay. You guys are literally killing me with anticipation.” I said in the same boat as Pope, urging them to hurry up.

“Alright Sweetheart, calm down.” JJ said from beside me putting a hand on my arm to calm me down.

“We almost died over this.” Pope added to our argument to open the bag faster.

John B opened the bag pulling out a metal canister. After opening that too he let the contents spill out onto his hand. Disappointment rose up as we looked to see that all it was was an old compass. While taking a second look I thought that I recognized it from somewhere but wasn’t sure.

“Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right.” Pope stated, standing from his crouched position. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.”

“Dude, what? It's not worth anything.” JJ told John B who was staring at the compass in awe.

“This was my father's.” Were the only words that left John B’s lips.

🔅🔆🔅

After the disappointment of not finding much of anything after we all risked our lives we all headed home. Entering my house the sun was setting outside and it seemed empty. But my Mom’s car was parked just off the road and I could hear faint talking coming from the back of the house. I walked through the living room and kitchen, past the stairs that led to the loft which was my Mom’s room. Past my own room and the bathroom before coming to a stop in front of my little sister’s door. Leaning against the door frame, I saw my Mom reading Emmy a book by candle light, I assumed that the power was still out.

Walking back to the main room I started to make myself a sandwich, realizing that I hadn’t eaten much of anything all day. Just as I was about to take the first bite. I heard Emmy’s door close and my Mom entered the room, holding a candle in her hand.

“Hey, Honey.” She greeted me as she set down the candle. “How was your day?”

“Good.” I responded in between bites of the sandwich I had made. “Pretty uneventful.”

“Really?” She asked, almost surprised. “I saw Shoupe on my way out of town and he said that he saw your friends out on the marsh when they were doing their search for Scooter’s boat. He also said that you weren't there. Your friends told him something about you working, but I didn’t know you were working at all for a few days.”

“Oh really?” I said trying to figure out how to cover the real story up. “Um, Mr. Cameron came down and asked if I could pick up another shift. I guess his kids have been spending a lot of time inside since the storm so it was a bit of a mess over there.”

“He drove all the way down here?”

“Yeah well since the phone lines are down he couldn’t call.”

“Huh, it seems strange he would come all the way down when he could just wait a couple more days for us to come over.”

“Yeah well it was really bad. I would have taken pictures if my phone wasn’t dead.”

“Oh no I don’t need pictures, I’ve met those kids and cleaned that house, I believe that they could make a terrible mess.” She said seemingly believing everything I was telling her, she paused for a moment before asking another question. “You don’t know why your friends were in the marsh do you?”

“Well” I started, thinking about what I could say that would get us all off the hook. “They were actually waiting to pick me up. Yeah. Cause I went up to Figure Eight with Mr. Cameron but I didn’t want to make him drive me all the way home. So they hung out in the marsh I guess while they waited.”

“How’d you call them?” Mom asked, picking apart my story.

“Walkie Talkies.” I blurted out. “You know the ones that Heyward got Pope and I a few years ago? And that must have been why they were in the marsh even though it was closed. You know cause the walkie talkies only work for a certain radius, and the Cameron house is probably too far from here.”

“Yeah I guess so.” She said moving towards me to grab my now empty plate.

“Thanks.” I said, as she put my plate in the sink. “I think I’m gonna head back over to John B’s if that's okay.”

“Of course just don’t forget to sleep at some point. You do still require sleep.” She told me.

“I know, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you!” I heard her call after me as I closed the door and made the short walk over to John B’s where I saw him and JJ lounging on the porch.

🔅🔆🔅

#outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank #jj obx #obx #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader

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peter-pan-hoe · 4 years

Text

Old Friends Pt 1

Guess Who’s Back Bitches

(Sorry for calling you bitches im just very excited. I love every single of of yall and Im so happy you guys have stuck around during this ridiculous hiatus and i hope to be posting more soon. I just got off my ass today and was like “Alright ya cow its time to write” and i did. Here is the oldest request ive had waiting in my inbox for literal years im so sorry this took so long. Here is part one of what will hopefully be a new series. I’ve taken it in a different direction to start with but i will be swinging it around to meet the request in later parts. So happy to be back. Ive missed you. I love you. Here we go xx)

“So like maybe Peter, y/n, an all the lost boys are having this huge dinner, hanging out and that, and then somehow, for revenge, The Dark One sends one of Peter’s old lovers to the island. That night Peter sneaks off to greet the girl who is STILL in love with him, maybe she puts him under her spell to forget about the reader and then they like almost do da nasty or something and I guess I can leave you to the rest.”

Requested by @bellakae

Warnings: swearing, legit like one f-bomb

I did my best to make Y/N gender neutral but being a cis female I may have missed some gender identifiers when editing and I apologise

tag list: @dina3s @just-meh-and-me-dogs @xcastawayherosx @lexymeg

sorry to anyone i forgot. I couldnt find all the asks or my updated tag list. Comment bellow or dm me if you want to be added to the tag list xx

Every time there’s a new batch of lost boys, or ever just one, to arrive on the island, we have a welcome feast.

The hunter and forager boys gather as much stuff they can find and the cooks put together a huge meal. Given out of the 47 of us that there’s only 6 cooks, we usually have some extra to help out.

When there’s a big group it’s usually because Peter went to the mainland to find boys and bring them here because they weren’t happy at home.

There was that time that 5 or six boys rocked up because they made their way here together.

But if it’s just the one boy, they’re the believers. The ones who wished their way here.

This time around however was because Peter had gone to the mainland.

He usually seemed very happy whenever he came back.

Well no less happy than usual.

He wasn’t sad or angry or quiet like today.

When he returned early this morning with the latest group of boys, he came into our shared hut and stared out the window until morning.

Usually if it’s a late night he would have woken me up to say he was back.

He hadn’t needed to wake me up this time as him simply entering the room had roused me. But he didn’t even look over at me as he walked passed our bed to his little seat on the window sill.

I figured something must be up so I sat up and pretended I hadn’t heard him come home.

“Oh hey,” I said, faking a yawn. “When did you get back?”

He looked at me with a forced smile.

“Just a little while ago,” he hopped down from his perch by the window and came to sit beside me. “Did I wake you?”

He gave me a gentle kiss on the head and the leaned down to untie his boots.

“No I don’t think so,” I lied and shook my head. “I just woke up and you were there,”

He didn’t say anything as he kicked of his boots and put his feet up on our bed.

“Is everything okay?” I asked. “You seem a little distracted,”

“yeah I’m alright,” he sighed. “Just ran into an old friend while I was out getting the new boys,”

“Okay 2 things,” I started. “First is, how are the boys? And how many? And the second thing, was this old friend still a friend or are you not on good terms?”

“They boys are good,” he replied with a stifled yawn.

I could tell he was very tired, but not his usual physical exhaustion. He seemed tired in his mind.

“I brought home 14 boys,” he continued. “The youngest 7 and the oldest 17,”

“That’s a lot,” I said sadly. “All those boys – a 7 year old – lost and lonely,”

“Mmm,” he nodded in agreement.

“So what about your friend?” I pressed carefully.

I don’t want to upset him.

“I’m not really sure,” he sighed. “We didn’t end on good terms but she seemed happy to see me. She even wanted to come back here with us,”

This answer surprised me.

“She?” I asked nervously.

“Yeah,” he looked at me apologetically. “Clara. An old… partner of mine,”

“Partner as in lover?” I asked. “I don’t mind you talking about your ex’s. I’ve got some too y’know,”

I tried to lighten the solemn mood with a giggle.

“You mean I’m not your first love?” he feigned shock, gasping dramatically and putting his hand over his heart.

“Oh but you are the truest,” I collapsed into his chest with a laugh.

He held me tight as he lay back on our bed, so I was leaning back onto him.

“But yes, to answer your question,” he said as he absentmindedly played with a few strands of my hair. “Clara was my old lover. She was someone I met a long time ago,”

I thought about how things would have been with Peter and this Clara.

“Did she live here like me?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Like I’d told him, I don’t have an issue with him having past lovers. I mean who doesn’t?

“No,” he said quietly. “We weren’t really bonded like you and I are,”

“So how did you see her?” I asked as I reached up to brush some of my hair back.

“Made more trips to the mainland I guess,” he shrugged. “I still only picked up new boys once a month but I went to see her weekly,”

“But you two weren’t romantically affiliated?” I questioned.

“Well I wasn’t,” he admitted with a guilty face. “She was very emotionally invested in our… relationship. Whereas I was not,”

“Oh Peter…” I sighed. “Did you break her heart?”

“I guess,” he shrugged again. “She started getting really clingy. She didn’t want to come here. I never really found out why but she insisted that our meeting were to take place on the mainland. She began asking me to stay for longer periods of time. Once to the point that Felix came to find me because Neverland’s weather started to turn to a freezing winter. She’d convinced me to stay for weeks at a time more than once,”

“But she was the only one romantically invested?” I reiterated.

He gave a solemn nod.

“That’s fucked,” I lay back in the bed and yawned. “How did the encounter go this time?”

“She seemed the same,” he said carefully. “Like she didn’t even remember that we ended badly,”

“How so?” I pressed.

“I came across her in a town market and she ran to me like she was so happy to see me,” he continued. “She ran to me and wrapped her arms around me like she used to when we hadn’t seen each other for a time. I’m not sure she even realises how long its been,”

He became quiet, thinking.

“How long has it been?” I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and my voice came out as almost a whisper.

“Thirty odd years or so,” he brushed some loose hairs from my face, just touching for the sake of touching. “But she left so quickly this time I didn’t even have a chance to ask her why she seems this to be like this. She just said she had errands to run and had to go. That she would see me soon,”

“That sounds ominous,” I mumbled.

I was processing as much of this as I could in my tired state. I suppose Peter could sense that I was barely awake.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he kissed my forehead. “We can talk more about it in the morning. Sleep Y/N, we have a big day of celebration to prepare for tomorrow,”

He didn’t have to tell me twice as id already started to drift off from him gently stroking the side of my face.

#peter pan #peter pan ouat #peter pan x reader #peter pan x y/n #peter pan x you #ouat #ouat fanfiction

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captainseaweedbrains · 4 years

Text

The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64 Ch. 3

Everlark meets marching band meets enemies to friends to lovers.

Tumblr: X X X

Read on Ao3: X X X

May

There wasn’t a single childhood memory Katniss could pull that didn’t involve Peeta Mellark. Try as she might to ever forget they were friends—and she tried her hardest to forget—it was next to impossible. Peeta and her were, once upon a time, inseparable. Glued at the hip. Her parents used to tease that only the moonlight could separate them and even then, in the summertime, Peeta spent many nights sleeping on the living room floor next to her, giggling as they watched movies and ate popcorn, Prim snoring beside them.

And then with her dad being an avid photographer, there were boxes of family albums documenting Katniss and Prim growing up throughout the years. From first steps to bath times together to dance and music recitals—her dad documented it all. “For future biographers,” he used to joke whenever Katniss would complain why they always had to take a picture of everything. She’d roll her eyes in response and just let him snap away. There was no stopping the man. Now she wished she could take back all her tweenage-angst and let him take as many photos as he wanted of her. But she didn’t know what she knew now. Thus was life.

On the rare occasion when he relented with the camera and accepted that she was not going to cooperate with any poses he suggested, Peeta was more than happy to step in and take her place, joking how his many admirers at school would kill for a candid photo of him. “It’s not candid if you’re posing, stupid,” she used to tell him, but he’d kindly tell her to shut her piehole and offer up suggestions on where to take the picture next, her dad eating Peeta’s enjoyment up with each click of the shutter.

Peeta was in a lot of her family photos. It was impossible to flip through any family album after Katniss had turned three and not find him. Due to his parents constantly working at their family bakery turned mini corporation, Peeta and his older brother Rye were often left to fend for themselves and from early morning until sundown, Rye would kick Peeta out of the house and lock the door. Rye’s dickish behavior was actually how the two met—Katniss hearing Peeta screaming across their yard, asking if he was dying because he was crying by his back door, fists slamming the glass.

“No,” he sniffed, rubbing his puffy red eyes. “My brudder—l-l-locked—me—o-o- ooout!” Peeta hiccupped, his hysteria growing with each syllable until he was back to crying for Rye to let him in.

“My daddy’s makin’ pancakes,” Katniss offered from her deck. “He makes them with funny faces and makes them sing. Want some?”

There probably should have been some type of introduction between them before Katniss invited this total stranger into her home, but when Peeta came in with her, her dad just smiled and told him to pull up a chair. Names were finally exchanged over gooey chocolate chip pancakes and they became instant friends.

After that, instead of crying when Rye would inevitably lock him out of his own home, Peeta would cross over to the Everdeen’s yard and walk on in, shouting out his greetings to whoever was in the kitchen at the time and seeing what she or her dad were up to for the day. There were countless memories of Katniss coming downstairs after playing with Prim and finding Peeta and her dad casually working together on the morning crossword puzzle at the kitchen table, or out in her mother’s garden doing yard work and chatting about everything and anything. He was always there, ready to hang out and see what she had in mind for them to do that day, and their photo albums showed it. Birthday parties, family dinners, sleepovers, holidays—there Peeta was, all smiles and dimples.

Peeta Mellark was a huge fixture in the Everdeen household until one day he just wasn’t. One day he was there, making her laugh so hard, milk came out her nose, and the next, he was gone and those boxes of happy family photos were just sad reminders of what used to be.

No dad.

No best friend.

It was fine. She was fine.

Except maybe she wasn’t? It annoyed her that Peeta could still dig under her skin like that, his words in the locker room playing on repeat in her mind. At least her nerves about tryouts had a chance to calm down between stressing about Abernathy’s mocking jabs about her playing and her annoyance at Peeta thinking her a heartless loner. So what if she preferred to do things alone? It meant she was independent, mature for her young age. Was that such a bad thing?

And what was up with accusing her of not being there for people? Not caring for them? Did she have to remind him that he made his choice and ditched her ? That the second her dad died, he split? Was he ever really her friend, or was he just using her to get to her dad because his dad wasn’t around? Katniss had been wondering that for years, but didn’t have the courage to ask because she just knew if she did, she’d start to cry and shout at him and maybe shove him a bit and he and his stupid friends would laugh and probably call her a psychopath bitch.

What a fucking hypocrite Peeta Mellark was, calling her heartless when he was guilty of so much worse.

The final bell rang at last, freeing everyone for the day. Katniss was so caught up in her anger over Peeta and Mr. Abernathy and really, just everyone at this point, that she almost forgot about the call sheet posting. Almost. As soon as Madge reminded her, asking if she wanted to walk over there with her and Gale, all those nerves resurfaced as they headed over to the band room. She kept discreetly wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, preparing herself to be disappointed, to expect someone like Glimmer to get it, but please, whoever was listening up there, please let her have made captain. If this crappy hellish day could give her just one thing, let it be that.

“I can’t look,” Katniss panicked when she saw the neon pink sign taped to the window connecting to the band office, halting in her steps. “If I didn’t make captain, I don’t know what I’ll do. Punch something?”

Madge rolled her eyes and offered to check for her. “If Trinket didn’t make you captain, she clearly tripped in those heels and is suffering from some head trauma. Let’s see.” Her manicured finger scrolled down the long list of names until stopping on the Es. “Hm. Katniss, I don’t see your name on here at all.”

Her heart jolted. “What? That can’t be.” She wasn’t positive on being captain, but she was positive she’d at least make the team . Were the theatre and dance kids really that much better? She shoved Gale and Madge aside, looking for her name. Abrams...Banks...Carroll...Daly...Edwards...Evans... Everdeen! And there was an asterisk next to her name! She was captain of next season’s color guard!

“You asshole!” she laughed, shoving Madge in the shoulder. “I’m captain!” She couldn’t help the large smile stretching across her face. She was captain!

“You are!” Madge cheered, giving her a big tight hug. “Congratulations, Katniss! I’m so proud of you!”

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said, messing up her hair in a brotherly fashion. She shoved his hand away and gave a playful glare. “And what about my favorite guard member?” he asked, looking down at Madge. “Did you make it, too?”

Madge gave him a sweet smile and looked further down the list before pumping her fists in excitement. “I did! I made it! Take that Shelly Shoemon from 4th grade for saying I had the coordination skills of a cow!”

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said again, laughing as he pulled his girlfriend in for a kiss. They locked lips for a while before Katniss cleared her throat and suggested they get a room if they wanted to continue. The couple smiled, Madge’s freckled cheeks tinted pink, but broke apart, their hands remaining clasped together.

“Should we head over to Sae’s for burgers and ice cream to celebrate?” Gale suggested. “Thom just paid me for fixing his car, so I have the cash to spend.” Both girls happily agreed to his suggestion, excited to share the news with Sae, the diner’s owner and local grandmother to anyone under the age of 40. Good news didn’t feel real until sharing it with Sae.

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket shouted from somewhere in her office, “is that you?” Her head popped out the doorway, startling the three. “Excellent, dear! I’ve been waiting to speak with you about something. Come in! Come in!” Her hand motioned for her to follow.

“Oh.” Katniss looked over at Gale and Madge, unsure what to say. “Am I in trouble?”

Miss Trinket laughed. “No, not at all! I just need to discuss some color guard things with my new captain.” She sang the last word, putting great emphasis on the middle consonants, and glared behind her at, presumably, Mr. Abernathy who probably said something rude in a remark.

“Sure, yeah,” Katniss said, feeling a bit dumb. Of course Miss Trinket wanted to jump right into the thick of things. The woman was the Energizer Bunny on crack when it came to choreography and scheduling. Of course she’d want to talk to her captain about the game plan and how she expected they execute it. “I’m free to talk.” Miss Trinket smiled and stepped back in her office.

Katniss turned to Madge and Gale, wearing an apologetic smile . “I’ll meet you at Sae’s?” They nodded, not minding the wait, and wished her luck, telling her to text when she was leaving school.

*********

The first thing Katniss noticed amiss when stepping into the adjoined office was Peeta Mellark casually sitting there in front of Mr. Abernathy’s desk, flipping through a pile of sheet music. It wasn’t unusual for band students to volunteer time helping the surly man try to keep the band program organized, but it seemed a little late for a volunteer to still be in here. Abernathy and Trinket were a lot to take and only bearable in small, manageable doses. Most booked it the second the bell rang.

She paused in the doorway, unsure if she misunderstood Miss Trinket. She meant for them to talk now, right? So what was Peeta doing here?

“Ah, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, sifting through a stack of notes, not noticing her hesitation. “Take a seat, please.” She motioned to the wooden chair in front of her desk.

Still unsure what was going on, Katniss gingerly sat down in the offered chair, her bag in her lap, and waited to see what exactly Miss Trinket wanted to talk about with Peeta still here. Guard stuff wasn’t technically private, but it’s not like it was riveting information either. Something didn’t feel right here.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, catching Katniss’ attention from not looking at Peeta, and folded her hands on top of her desk with a bright, fluorescent smile. “Katniss, I want to be the first to congratulate you on a job well done. Your audition was truly inspiring. Honestly, I wish I could have taped it to show future guard members what true dedication looks like.” Katniss’ cheeks darkened at her director’s lavish compliments.

“Thank you, Miss Trinket,” she said quietly, feeling a tad uncomfortable being told this in front of Peeta and Mr. Abernathy. “I tried my hardest.”

“And it shows, dear. It truly shows.” The assistant director looked down at her notes, reading from one of the piles she was sifting through earlier, her long fingernails idly tapping the top metal surface in thought. “In fact,” she said, “I was so impressed with your audition, I’ve decided to make you a very prominent figure in this season’s show. The show’s leading star, as it were.”

“I’m—um. What?” And then Miss Trinket proceeded to happily explain her vision for how their band was going to tell the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet, with the occasional grunts from Mr. Abernathy here and there. She explained how she envisioned the houses being represented by the color guard and drumline, feuding together on the field as the music from the band crescendos to the climatic finish.

“Next to you, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, holding up what looked like a handwritten list of names, “I haven’t quite decided who will play who for color guard, but we have time to iron out these details, dear. What concerns me is how long it is taking Boggs to decide who made it for drumline.” Her eyes slitted at Abernathy. “It seems someone forgot to pass along the deadline I imposed so we could avoid this exact problem.” Mr. Abernathy just gave a noncommittal shrug and continued flipping through the scorebook he was looking at. Miss Trinket rubbed at the corner of her eyes and gave Katniss an exasperated look before continuing on.

“It took some wheedling to get him to bend to my will, but I do believe many of our seasonal veterans are returning to drumline this year, Peeta being one of them.” She smiled warmly at the boy. For someone finding out good news, Peeta looked bored out of his mind sitting there, listening as Miss Trinket prattled on about visions and forbidden love and what this will mean for the band come competition season.

This all felt like a lot. Like a lot a lot.

“So let me get this straight,” Katniss said slowly, trying to process it all and not throw up like her stomach wanted. “You want me to be Juliet? Like the Juliet who falls in love and dies at the end? That Juliet?”

If it was at all possible, Miss Trinket’s smile grew, making Katniss feel even sicker. “The very one, my dear! Oh, Katniss, I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to have you as our Juliet. I’ve had my guesses who you’d play for a while now, since I decided we should do Romeo & Juliet a few months back, really.” Mr. Abernathy snorted at that but said nothing to contradict her. “But now, after seeing how much you’ve improved since last season? Truly inspiring! And with your tiny frame, I think we can finally bring air flips into the mix now! Wouldn’t that look amazing under stadium lights?”

Katniss really felt like she was going to be sick now. “You want me to be a spotlight guard?” Her voice sounded a bit squeaky to her ears. “But that’s—I’ve never been a spotlight guard before! Especially not something to that kind of scale. They’re, like, really important. Like judges judging them important.”

It was Peeta’s turn to laugh next to her, trying to cover it up with a cough when she turned to glare at him. Why was he here?

Katniss took a deep breath in to try and quiet the loud ringing noise suddenly blaring in her ears. She was clearly not making a first good impression as captain, but this was so unexpected! Miss Trinket had never had her be a spotlight before. Ever. It was one thing being captain, but this, having her performance carry the entire story? Yeah, no thanks.

“Are you sure you want it to be me?” she asked, her voice a lot calmer than she felt. “I was thinking you’d want someone like Madge—or Glimmer—for something this important. You’re always saying how swan-like Glimmer is on the field. Don’t you want Juliet to look like a swan?”

“Told you she wouldn’t be for it,” Peeta muttered next to her, a knowing smile on his face as he shook his head in amusement. Oh, he just thought he knew everything about her, didn’t he? Like he was some Katniss Everdeen expert.

“Why are you even here?” she finally asked him. “This clearly has nothing to do with you. Can’t you file music somewhere else?”

“Isn’t it a bit obvious why I’m here, Katniss?” he asked her incredulously, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “I thought you were more observant than this.”

Before she could reply, Miss Trinket held her hands up. “Enough! Peeta, I’ll kindly ask you to please sit there quietly, as we discussed.” Discussed? When did they have time to discuss this? Then she remembered earlier. Miss Trinket needing to speak with Peeta, breaking up their argument. They were discussing her? Why did Peeta have to know that Miss Trinket wanted her as Juliet. She was clearly missing something obvious, like Peeta said, but her mind was shot. Barely able to process anything anymore as her anxiety kicked into gear.

“And, Katniss.” She looked up at the sound of her name. “Please keep an open mind about this. I understand to some, being a lead is scary, but trust me when I say, I have my absolute faith in you.

“Madge and Glimmer are talented girls, yes,” Miss Trinket explained, “but I’m afraid they are too tall for what I have in mind for choreography. You know how important these things can be. We need someone petite like you, Katniss. Someone Peeta can easily pick up and twirl without fear of dropping.” She motioned a manicured hand at Peeta, his face staring at her expectantly.

But Katniss’ brain was still running in circles. “Peeta’s not on guard. Why would he be picking me up?”

Miss Trinket’s patient smile looked strained now. “As I already told you,” she said slowly, surely believing Katniss dense now, “Guard and drumline will be representing the two houses. Guard will be Capulet and drumline Montague. Peeta’s on drumline, so naturally he’d be our star Montague.”

Her mind finally caught up to what everyone was suggesting. “Wait,” she said, sitting at the edge of her seat now. “If I’m Juliet and you’re saying he’s the star…” Her focus drifted to Peeta, who gave an amused, cocky wave, surely enjoying the multitude of emotions crossing her face in this moment. Her stomach dropped, this news hitting her harder than the spotlight one. “You’re Romeo?”

Instead of just answering with a simple yes/no like a normal person, or even some Ding! Ding! Ding! joke, Peeta lowered himself to the floor and responded in all his annoyingly obnoxious flair: “‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.’” He closed his eyes on the last word and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle kiss, his lips soft and warm against her now clammy skin. She swatted her hand away, tucking it around her bag for protection.

No. No, no, no. No!

This had to be a mistake. Her and Peeta Mellark? As Romeo and Juliet?

That was what Miss Trinket wanted to talk to him about, she realized. It wasn’t about her at all. She wanted to talk to him about being Romeo for the field show.

“I don’t understand,” Katniss said at last, when her stomach had finally recovered itself. “How can Peeta be Romeo when he’s going to be busy marching around with a snare drum? What about Finnick? He’s tall. Taller than Peeta, for sure. I’m sure he could just as easily lift me.”

Was she seriously that desperate to prefer the preening peacock Finnick Odair?

Yes, yes she was.

“Finnick will most likely play our Tybalt,” Miss Trinket remarked. “And as he is on guard, he will play a Capulet role.”

“What about gender bending the role?” Katniss suggested. “Who says Juliet has to be a girl? We are in the 21st century. And didn’t Shakespeare have men play the female roles, anyway? Let Finnick play Juliet to Peeta’s Romeo. He’d be perfect in the role.”

“Should I feel insulted that you don’t want to be my partner, Katniss?” Peeta innocently asked, enjoying this way too much. Her fists gripped her bag hard, her eyes deadly slits. People often told her how intimidating she looked, but Peeta didn’t even bat an eye. He was all smiles and dimples. If only looks could kill...

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket said curtly, snapping her attention back on the director, “I chose you as my next in command because I trust in your talent and know you are a driven young woman who people look up to. Now we both want the pleasure of seeing this band win first place at PSU, don’t we?”

“Yes, but—”

“And we will do what is necessary to move this band toward that goal, correct?”

“Of course, but—”

“But nothing, Everdeen,” Mr. Abernathy interjected at last, kicking his feet off the tall pile of sheet music laying by his desk. “You want to win?” He shook his hand at her, not needing a response. “Stupid question. Of course you do. I can see it all over your face. You’re too competitive to hide it. Well, to win you have to please the judges. Plain and simple. Judges like this kind of flair nonsense. So play our star-crossed lovers—”

“We’re not star-crossed lovers!” Katniss grit out, a bit harder than she intended, unable to look at Peeta as she said it. Not like it mattered. She could practically feel his amusement radiating off his person. “This won’t work, Mr. Abernathy. Don’t you want people who’ll get along? Peeta and I hate each other. We have for a really long time.”

“Who cares?” Mr. Abernathy asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his longish black hair falling in his face from the motion. “Pretend. Act like your lovesick classmates. I don’t care. It’s all a big show, anyway, and if pairing you two up wins us enough brownie points to win and shuts Trinket up for a year, then that’s what we’re going to do. Mellark’s already agreed to it and he’s never danced a day in his life. So now it’s your turn to be a good girl and agree to the plan, Everdeen. Got it?”

“Got it,” she muttered, slouching low in her chair. Of all the things she expected to hear today, pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark was not one of them. This was definitely going to blow up in everyone’s faces, she was sure of it. Putting on a performance smile for judges was one thing, but acting like she was in love with Peeta was another. And then hoping he wouldn’t drop her when doing those stupid flips Miss Trinket mentioned? She was going to be in a body cast by the end of the season.

Peeta seemed to have dropped the amusement act at last, mirroring her sour mood as the two directors discussed extra one-on-one rehearsal time with Miss Trinket to better prepare Peeta since he had zero dance experience. Katniss tried to pay attention, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing over at Peeta, wondering what he could possibly be thinking during all this. His jaw was clenched, she could tell, but he wasn’t looking at her or Trinket or even Abernathy. He was focusing on picking at a hole in his jeans, his eyebrows scrunched together. She understood the conflict—was feeling it herself—but he didn’t look mad. Just...troubled. Like something was said that he was having a hard time with.

Where to begin? Katniss thought bitterly, still unable to believe they were actually being forced to play Romeo and Juliet, like they were in some teenage drama or something.

“I know we have lots to work on, but just seeing the two of you together like this,” Miss Trinket said, motioning between them, “tells me I made the right decision. Look how adorable you two look! Pearls on a necklace! Didn’t I say that’s what they reminded me of, Haymitch?” She turned to Abernathy, who was now busy digging dirt from under his nails with his baton. Miss Trinket frowned before catching herself. “I did, I did! I said that earlier when I found you talking in the back.” She winked and oh god. Could they just go already?

********

It took another fifteen minutes of talking and goodbyes that were very much not goodbyes before they were truly free from the office. Katniss bolted out the side door as quickly as she could, cursing under her breath at how long she’d been in there. That took almost an hour! Madge and Gale were probably wondering what was taking so long. Or maybe not. It was Trinket, after all.

The parking lot was nearly empty now as she crossed it, digging around for her battered up phone to text. Hopefully they were still up for burgers because after that talk...yeah. She needed the greasiest burger available. Wait until she tells her friends she’s playing Juliet and that Peeta Mellark was her Romeo. They might not believe her, thinking it a practical joke and asking what Trinket really wanted. That’s how absurd this whole situation sounded.

“Katniss!” she heard her name called out. “Hey, wait up!” She turned and saw Peeta waving her down, his long legs quickly catching up to her. Part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and keep moving, her car just across the street from where she stood. It’d be a safer bet, too, moving along, because nothing good was ever said when she was upset. This afternoon being a prime example. But for some reason, she was curious what Peeta had to say about all this. She stopped at the street corner and pretended to check for traffic despite the road being empty of any moving vehicle.

“Damn,” he laughed, a bit breathless as he caught up next to her. “I forgot how fast your fight or flight response is.”

“I’m not fleeing,” she frowned, checking the street for real this time before crossing. She dug around the front pocket of her book bag, pulling out both her keys and phone. “School’s done and I’m going to Sae’s with Gale and Madge. You know, my friends.”

“I know who Gale and Madge are.”

“Just checking,” she stated cooly, flipping her braid over her shoulder, “since you practically accused me of having none earlier.”

He winced. “Yeah, not the finest thing I’ve ever said. I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine, Peeta.” It wasn’t, but if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’ll believe it. “We can’t all be Mr. Popular like you.”

“Right.” He looked back at the student parking lot where he parked. Unlike her family, his could afford the $350 the school charged for a parking space. “Listen, about what you said in there. About us hating each other.” Katniss raised an eyebrow, curious where this would lead. “I don’t...hate you.”

Well that was...unexpected. Was that why he looked so troubled in the meeting? Because she said they hated each other? She took a step back from him, realizing he was closer than she felt comfortable with, and waited for the rest of it. It didn’t sound like he was finished, like there was a big but hanging at the end of his sentence. What else did he want to say? But I still don’t really like you? But I think you’re annoying and working with you is going to suck? But I think you’re a bitch? Honestly, the list could go on about all the negative things Peeta could say about her, but he said nothing. He just looked down at his shoes and kicked at some loose pebbles in the street.

“Oh,” she said, unsure what else there was to say. “I guess that will make rehearsal easier.”

He nodded, a bit too jerky to look natural. “Yeah. I just—it’s important to me that you know that I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. Mad beyond belief? Yeah. Lots of times, actually. But never hate. I could never hate you, Katniss.”

“Oh,” she said again, dumbfounded. “Well, thanks, Peeta. I guess. That’s... Good to know.” And just because her sour mood couldn’t help itself, “I’ll be able to sleep happy tonight knowing you don’t hate me.” She made a face, instantly regretting her words, and yanked open her car door, needing to just leave. “Listen, I gotta go. Gale and Madge are already waiting for me and Trinket took forever rambling about how we’re pearl necklaces. They’re waiting for me.”

He didn’t say anything as she got in the car, the loud, embarrassing screech of her engine once on making any type of conversation near impossible to hold. He stepped away and gave a halfhearted wave, all bravado gone now, as she pulled away from the curb. By the time she thought to wave back, it was too late and her car was halfway down the street.

God, she really was a heartless bitch.

*******

It was only hours later—after returning home from drowning her frustrations in the thickest chocolate shake Sae could make and celebrating her good news with her mom and sister over pizza—did she allow herself to think about Peeta Mellark.

On a whim, she pulled the framed photo she kept of her and her dad off her nightstand and held it, her grip tightening as she studied the ridiculous faces they’re making at the camera. It was one of the last pictures they took together before his passing. She can’t remember what prompted them to make the faces, but she wished she could go back and make them again with him. To be with her dad for just one more day. One more hour, even. She’d do anything for that.

Katniss closed her eyes and hugged the frame close to her chest for a moment, trying to stop any tears from slipping past her tight emotional control. She was safe to cry in her room, but wanted to wait until she was in bed with the lights turned off before crying over this emotionally draining day.

When it felt like she had her emotions under control, Katniss used her longest fingernail to lift the tabs on the back of the frame and carefully took the picture out, unfolding the right-half of it to reveal a young curly-haired Peeta smiling up at her, her dad’s arm thrown over his shoulders.

She stared at the full photo for the longest time, remembering how mad she was at him for taking this one simple thing from her. She never minded Peeta being in her family photos before. She sometimes pulled him in for ones when her dad or mom shouted, “Picture time! Show us your pearly whites!” But that was when she still thought they’d have more time. Why wouldn’t there be more time? Dads weren’t supposed to die until you were old and had kids of your own. That’s how it was supposed to be. They weren’t supposed to die when you’re eleven and barely old enough to understand the cruelty of the world. The unfairness of it all.

Katniss barely remembered a time when it was just her and her dad. Alone. No Peeta. No Prim. Just Dad and her.

She didn’t even have a good photo of just the two of them.

Just boxes upon boxes of photos of him, her, and Peeta.

The magical trio.

The full photo didn’t bring up any past resentment this time, though. Instead, it reminded her how much fun the three of them used to have, bumming around town while Aunt Lulu watched Prim at her shop, singing along to the radio and playing Punch Buggy. Her dad always made it a point to include Peeta on any outing they made, even if it involved going to the grocery store. How disappointed Dad would be seeing us now, she thought, tracing over his face with her thumb. Her and Peeta not friends anymore.

But Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate her. Katniss didn’t understand why hearing that felt like a weight had lifted off her, but she felt lighter now, the more she thought about it. Like it was easier to breathe again.

“Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate me,” she whispered to the photo, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. A small smile pulled at her lips and she said it again. “He doesn’t hate me, Dad.”

Katniss didn’t understand why Peeta thought it was important she knew he didn’t hate her, but it was all her mind kept thinking of, and she was glad to hear it.

He didn’t hate her. He never had.

#Everlark fanfiction #The Hunger Games Fanfiction #The Hunger Games #Everlark #Everlark fanfic #My writing #The Dance of the Color Guard Op. 64 #I realized in the sneak peek I put ch 4 instead of 3 #because I forget prologue is different #*face palm*#I hope you enjoy!!#Like and reblog!#Let me know what you think!#Finally getting the ball ROLLING

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ravioliwings · 3 years

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Honestly I’m glad that I’m never touching a man again for the rest of my life but I still can’t get over how absolutely busted some men’s perception of the world is

This is hopefully just anecdotal, but I’ve been in relationships with men where it was like all of their thoughts/feelings/actions were based off of things they’ve seen in media.

On the less harmful but still annoying side, those men would perform “romantic” gestures for me as if their only exposure to relationships was through romance movies. I’d received roses several times (which I don’t particularly care for, especially not around valentines day), chocolate (I’m not big on chocolate), a “promise ring” (I am very vocal about my hatred of promise rings), lingerie (that I never wore because it would have made me dysphoric), poems (if a man is not actually a poet and he says he wants to write you a poem, run for the hills), and I’m sure plenty of other things that I’ve blocked out of my memory. There was also a time where one of them almost bought an engraved “promise ring,” for my birthday or something, but he was acting super nervous about it and saying that I might hate it, so I had him tell me what it was, and he was right; I hated it.

And the thing is, is that some of these men knew me for a WHILE. Like they should have known what I liked, what I actually found romantic; but instead it was all stuff you’d see in a movie. Almost every single time a man has ever given me a gift, instead of being grateful and happy that they were thinking of me, my stomach would sink. Because it was as if the gifts were for a totally different person. It’s like every one of them bypassed the thought of “hm what would this individual appreciate” and went straight for “[girls] like roses and chocolate and empty promises, so I’ll get those.”

And it’s so fucked because you can see them as their own person, meanwhile they’re thinking of you as a category. They’re thinking of you as whatever they want, as opposed to what you are. I just really can’t wrap my head around the thought of dating someone and telling them you love them while also apparently not knowing anything about them? And not really wanting to know anything about them that doesn’t affirm whatever character you’ve decided you wanted them to be?

It was like I was smart when they wanted me to be, dumb when they wanted me to be, nerdy when they wanted me to be, not nerdy enough when they wanted me to be, funny when they wanted me to be, unfunny when they wanted me to be. There was one time when I was hanging out at someone’s house with one of my exes and he was gassing me up to his friend, talking about how “oh I’m so smart” blah blah blah, but behind closed doors he would never believe a word I said. Anything that I knew that he didn’t had to be wrong. He wanted everyone to see that I was intelligent while he acted like I was uneducated when it was just the two of us.

Another one of my exes would constantly tell me that I was funny/unfunny. Sometimes it would happen within the same day, where he’d praise me for being so funny and interesting, and then an hour later I was “the most boring person to talk to” and I wasn’t funny at all. This one was kind of the opposite, because most of the time he would praise me behind closed doors, and degrade me in front of his friends.

The most recent one had a complex about being a “nerd;” when all that really meant was that he fawned over every single marvel movie and watched dragon ball z as a kid. And sometimes he’d find it great that we were both “nerds,” but sometimes he would feel threatened by the fact that I liked things that were less socially accepted as the things he like and I didn’t have a nerd complex. Once again, it was a man who felt that his identity was threatened by my own. I was a nerd when he wanted a nerd partner, but not the right kind of nerd when he wanted to feel victimized.

Shit, this even goes back to like the third person I dated? Where in public I was so good at art, but in private I was really terrible at art. That’s a little more forgivable though because we were both like 15.

And it’s funny, because these men would always try to fit me into whatever box they’d picked out, and then be shocked when they realized I wasn’t in the box at all.

Like the same ex that tried to give me an engraved ring; near the end of our relationship (this was essentially the last of many straws for me), he was going off on some tangent about wanting to get married so that “people would finally see him as a man.” And that enraged me pretty quickly. Because not only did he apparently think that’s something I would have done, but also because he thought that would actually work. He was the type of guy who would bitch and moan about things but wouldn’t ever try to change them. And he was upset because other adults didn’t take him seriously. Which they had every right not to; he couldn’t do anything for himself (cook, clean, laundry, fix anything), all he ate was sugar (he was also diabetic, that didn’t stop him), all he drank was monster, he smoked a pack a day, he had a car with like a 24% interest rate, and he blew all of his money on yugioh cards. He was like if a middle school boy worked full time and had to pay taxes, with the maturity level to boot.

He was surprised that I didn’t want to get married (I was 18) and that I also didn’t really respect him as an adult. And he was still surprised when I finally broke up with him after 3 years and didn’t buy his promises of change anymore.

My most recent ex from 2 years ago wanted me to be more passive than I am. And it’s funny, looking back, because I was definitely more passive back then than I am now.

It was like he wanted a “proper” girlfriend but still dated me anyways. He would get irritated if I opened a door for him, or if I took the lead when we went places, or that I preferred to be the one driving. Actually, the taking the lead part was actually one of the reasons he broke up with me, and to this day it does not make any sense. And I guess as he got to know me throughout the relationship, the more he decided he didn’t like who I was. Which at the base level, is fine. But he realized this after like 4 months of dating, while we continued to date for another 6 (so only 4/10 months he actually had feelings for me). And he told me that only when he broke up with me after 10 months. So nice of him.

And the thing is, is that men want so badly for me to be terrible. They want me to be mean, to be cruel, to be heartless, so much so that they’ll even tell me that I need to be more compassionate and understanding after treating me worse than I treat strangers, and after using me.

And they say these things because sometimes I wouldn’t put up with their shit. Because I would talk to them about their behavior towards other people, and how they shouldn’t treat others that way. Because I wouldn’t recoil in fear whenever they threw something or tried to tip a fridge over. Because I wouldn’t coddle them when they “felt bad” for hurting me.

They’ll preach compassion until the cows come home, but really they only care about it when it can benefit them. They won’t show an ounce of compassion to another person, but as soon as they’ve done something wrong, all of a sudden you’re the most cruel person in the world for saying “hey, when you said x it hurt my feelings” and then not consoling them when they say they’re “sad now because you brought up how they hurt you.”

Idk I really got away from what I started writing about here.

And I know not every man is like this, but I’ve encountered enough of them to where I am no longer dealing with them if I don’t have to. I consider myself lucky to be bi because at least I still have the (better) option to date women and nonbinaries. Honestly wish stopped dating men sooner, but whatever. The past is the past now, no sense in beating myself up over it.

#this is....an essay #like its LONG #its also more personal than a statement so if u read this youve been warned #long post

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katehuntington · 5 years

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Title: Ride With Me (part seven) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Ash Miles, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6650 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part seven: While Dean makes a tough decision regarding who has to leave the ranch, Y/N finds it more and more difficult to keep her feelings in check. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: Thin Line - honeyhoney (bar scene), Ride to Death - Carter Burwell (evening ride scene), Wonderwall - Ryan Adams (scene under the Joshua tree). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas.

Ride With Me Masterlist

Dean pulls his head out of the refrigerator with six bottles of Corona hooked between his fingers. After he straightens his back, he pops off the cap with an opener, repeating the action until all bottles are opened. He’s about to break out the whiskey for his uncle, when the ranch owner hobbles towards the bar. The wrangler doesn’t really register him, though, because as his hands work swiftly, he watches his crew. The group of young men and women laugh over a - without a doubt - exaggerated story told by Benny, as they down the first round of the evening. It's Friday and the night is still young. With a day off in foresight, the workers allow themselves to enjoy the evening to the fullest. Dean will go easy on the alcohol, he has the early shift tomorrow. Amongst the group of staff, there is one person in particular who brings a smile to his face. Y/N’s laughter carries through the saloon, mixing with the country music that comes from the jukebox. It’s a great sound, one that causes the corners of his mouth to creep up. Jo and Ash are teaching her how to play poker and so far she’s terrible at it, but that doesn't seem to matter. She’s having tons of fun and gets along great with the others. Still wearing a smile, Dean glances down when he pours the amber liquor into the whiskey glass, sets it down on the bar after which he slides it towards Bobby. As if he knows who is on the wrangler's mind, he glances over at the intern as well. “So how’s our ‘wannabe cowgirl’ doing?” the ranch owner wonders.

A chuckle rumbles deep down Dean’s throat. He remembers calling her that when he shared his concerns with Bobby on the night of her arrival. “She survived the first week,” he admits. “Y/N’s a good fit. Still has a lot to learn, but she works hard and she’s smart.” “So, what you're sayin’ is that the intern isn't a total disaster like you predicted?” Bobby continues, his brow raised. “You just wanna hear me say you were right, don't ya?” Dean returns, amused either way. Bobby’s face shows a glimpse of a smile while nursing the tumbler of whiskey. “Maybe.” The young man shakes his head grinning as he takes a swig from his Corona. “What I'm sayin’ is that you got lucky. You know this could have gone south,” he returns, not giving his uncle the satisfaction. “It could have,” the ranch owner admits. “But I had to get creative; talking about things going south.”

The tone of the conversation changes instantly, leaving a heavy silence. Smiles die, their heads dip down, and gone is the pleasant Friday night feel. Dean is fully aware of where this conversation is heading towards. The issue has been bothering him for an entire week now. He has to decide who of his men to let go “Have you made up your mind yet?” Bobby asks his right hand. Dean nods, letting a sigh slip from his lips. He feels like he’s about to snitch on a friend. But this is business, it's what's necessary for the ranch to survive. It’s not personal, and yet it is, because it’s pulling on his heartstrings when he pronounces the name. “Ash.”

Dean’s eyes land on the group at the long table again. The Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie from Kentucky with tattoos on his arms and the wind in his hair is the one who has to go. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was the logical one. With the livestock reducing to only sixty cows and their calves, he will not have enough work to fill his day. What also weighs in, that Ash was hired last. Nevertheless, Gold Canyon is his home and he is a part of this family. He watches the guy, how he points out the pair of jacks in the open card game they are playing to teach the intern Texas Hold’em. The genuine smirk on his face is followed by a backhand down five when she wins. Poor dude, he has no idea what he’s about to lose. “I’ll break it to him after the weekend.” The voice of the old man, who seems to have aged during their chat, is sad and burdened. It's clear as a bell that laying off Ash is the last thing he wants for the bull rider, who he took under his wing half a decade ago. It’s a position Dean doesn't want his uncle in; the troubled ranch owner has enough on his plate as it is. “I’ll do it,” he offers. “Nah, I got this one, son,” Bobby says, reassuring him as he reaches across the bar to put a hand on his shoulder. “Join‘em, make the most of tonight.” His nephew nods while picking up the drunks, and heads for the table, after glancing at Bobby Singer another time. Dean swallows down the guilt and worry before he takes a seat, leaving his company oblivious to the dark clouds that are gathering above them. “So, how's it going? Do I have a new competitor yet?” he asks both Ash and Y/N while he gives out the beers. “I'm getting the hang of it,” she returns confidently, picking up the two cards Garth just dealt. Dean watches the young woman without her noticing, too focused on the game. Ash observes every action over the shoulder of his apprentice without helping her this time and is proud when she wins once again with three eights. “Beginners luck,” Jo scoffs, pushing the pot in her friend’s direction. “Keep telling yourself that.” Y/N grins at the blonde from across the table.

It’s Jo’s turn to shuffle when a group enters. Distracted by the squeaking sound of the double doors, Y/N looks up, noticing that Casey is amongst the guests. Ignoring the heavy feeling in her chest, she directs her eyes back to the cards, the bright smile on her lips toned down. Expecting Dean to have his eyes on his probable fix for tonight, her gaze wanders. He noticed the pretty brunette, but it’s not Casey he’s looking at. As Y/N glances over, so does he, and they both seem to feel caught for busting each other. She cannot help but wonder why he would be checking on her, though. Was he curious about her response? “Hey, handsome.” Dean smiles up at Casey, who positions herself behind his chair, laying her delicate hands on his shoulders as she kisses him on the cheek. He forces himself to come off as sincere, but there’s an anchor restraining him. “Hey,” he responds. “Had a nice ride?” “I did. Would have been better if you were there,” she flirts.

The game continues, but Jo doesn't deal for him, assuming that the two are going to leave for the bunkhouse anyway, like they usually do whenever Casey is here. After giving out the cards, the ranch owner's daughter peeks up from her hand, noticing her friend, who tries to mask the annoyance and disappointment to what is happening on the other end of the table. When she looks up, Jo’s brown eyes lock on hers as she lifts her chin shortly, the mimic asking if her friend is okay. Y/N nods and fakes a smile, but loses this game anyway.

“Hey, you wanna get outta here? To have another sort of ride,” Casey whispers in Dean’s ear as she leans in. He gulps down his beer and sets down the bottle. Her offer should sound tempting, then why isn't he intrigued? Instinctively, his eyes slip over to Y/N again. She seems to be concentrated on the game of poker, but she’s not at ease like she was a minute ago. This time she doesn't grant him any recognition of his existence. “I - uh…” he starts, brought back to the conversation when Casey softly massages his tense shoulder muscles. “I had a busy week and I have to work tomorrow, so I'm gonna hit the hay early.” “I can come along and help you relax,” she presses, now wrapping her arms around his neck.

Y/N picks up on Casey’s offer and grinds her teeth. Suddenly she’s angry with herself. How could she be so stupid to let herself get swooned off her cowboy boots by that scumbag ? Sure, she fought it, she denied it, but at the same time, she found hope in every smile he threw at her, in his flirts and compliments. How could you possibly think for even one short second that he only has eyes for you?! What makes you so special?

When Y/N loses to Benny again, she glances at her watch. Ten past nine; it's not too late to train with Meadow. She was reluctant to leave the fun a moment ago, but now leaving the Saloon seems like the best idea she has had all week. Y/N gets up, attracting confused looks from the company. “You're leaving?” Jo assumes. “Yeah, I still have to train Meadow,” Y/N excuses. “You're gonna ride now ?” Dean responds, perplexed. “We were just having fun.” “No one ever improved their skills by getting plastered and by just having fun, Dean,” she responds, his name coming out with a sneer. “If you want to own it, you've got to work for it.”

The cowgirl gets up and pushes the chair back under the table, the sound of its legs scratching the wooden floor breaking the silence. As she turns around to leave, her eyes meet Jo’s, who has a ‘you tell’im, girl!’ grin on her face. The doors flap after she walks through them, and the men at the table chuckle. “She's a diehard, that’s for sure,” Ash says. “Yeah...” Dean acknowledges, confused. “She is."

He watches her go for a few more seconds, determined strides, frustration in the sound of her footsteps. What the hell was that all about? For someone who claims to be strictly business, she turned pretty defensive when Casey got a little clingy. Oh, he caught the true meaning behind her words, alright. Is she really implying that if he wants her, he has to step up his game? If that’s the case, this might actually be a good thing. Yes, she’s annoyed with him right now, but this could mean he has an actual shot. “So, what do you say?” Casey asks again, pressing a seducing kiss in his neck. He glances up at the gorgeous young woman. She is pretty, wavy brown hair frames her flawless face, some freckles sprinkled on her nose and cheeks. Under that blue blouse and bootcut jeans, there is the body of a pinup girl. One who knows how to get a man’s engine running, which he had the pleasure of experiencing more than once. Dark, lustful eyes tell him all about what she has in store for him once she gets him alone. Yet for the first time, he’s not interested. “I'm gonna have to pass,” Dean decides. Somewhat stunned, Casey keeps a hold of the wrangler’s gaze, giving him a second to reconsider. When he doesn't, she creates a little distance and straightens her back. “Alright then,” she huffs. “Your loss.” The brunette strides away towards the bar, leaving the poker players in awkward silence. Ash and Garth follow the gorgeous beauty with their eyes, then simultaneously turn their heads to look at Dean, perplexed. “Dude, did you just piss off two women in one minute? That's impressive, even for you,” Ash comments. Jo snorts, her beer almost coming from her nose. Dean glares at her. “What?” she counters. “You just turned down a female specimen of the human race. We should call 12 News.” “Are you done?” Dean replies, agitated. Before Jo can throw in another cocky counter, Benny lays down a flush and gets up as he clears his throat. “If you kids will excuse me. I've got a fish to reel in. Keep the change." He winks at Dean, who nods back at his friend as a sign of consent. The head wrangler held his part of the agreement, and Benny is going to take full advantage of that. He watches how the farrier settles down on the barstool next to Casey, complimenting the beautiful girl with his irresistible accent, after which he offers her a drink. “That slick Southern bastard, he’s going to have her in his bed before she knows it,” Ash says, eying at the pair with an impressed look on his face, but then he rises from his seat. “How about some pool, y’all?” Garth gets up to follow him, but Dean declines. “I'll be right up,” Jo promises. When the guys move over, Jo corners her cousin. She gets up, walks around the long table and feels his forehead. “Jo, don't be ridiculous.” He smacks her hand away. “I'm not sick.” “Then what the hell is going on with you?” she asks, confronting. “Casey is your usual set of hooters to honk. Since when do you just turn that down?” “Since now,” the head wrangler answers shortly. “Why?” The head wrangler sighs annoyed. “Because I got bored.” “Because your eye caught something shinier,” Jo corrects. “Dean, Y/N is off limits.” “Says who?!” he argues. “Says me!” “You can't tell me who I can or can't--” “- fuck and dump when you're done with her?" his little cousin interveans. "Yeah, I can! She's my friend, damn it!” “Your friend?” Dean scoffs, fighting with Jo as siblings would. “You barely know her. This is her fifth day!” “Since when is there a mandatory minimum time on friendship?” she cries out. “I care about her and you know just as well as I do that she’s gonna end up with the trash like Casey.” Dean shrugs, finding her arguments invalid. “Casey doesn’t give a shit.” “But Y/N will,” Jo brings to mind. “You will leave her a heartbroken mess when you’re done with her. She’ll go home cryin’ and you know damn well we’re gonna need her.” That comment triggers Dean to furrow his brow. Being the daughter of the owner has its perks. Apparently, she’s aware of the financial problems that are threatening the company. “How much do you know?” Dean questions with a lowered voice. “I know there's gonna be a layoff and that we are gonna need all the free help we can get,” Jo states, whispering. The head wrangler sighs, checking on his crew at the pool table. His eyes linger when he spots Ash, who pockets number thirteen and repositions himself behind the white ball for his next turn. “Dean, you can't afford to screw around,” his cousin adds. I’m not screwing around, is on the tip of his tongue, but he keeps his mouth shut. He’s not going to let his cousin in on something he doesn’t understand himself. “She's not going anywhere, I'll make sure of that,” Dean assures, calmer than a moment ago. “She better not, ‘cause if she does, that’s gonna be on you.” With those words, the youngest Singer gets up and heads for the pool table as well. Dean watches her, staying behind with only his beer for company. Burdened, he drops his head, his jaw tensing. Great. One of his good friends is going to get fired next week, he doesn't feel like blowing off steam with Casey, and Jo won't even allow him to be with the girl he’s after. Not that she's falling for his usual tricks, anyway. Just fucking great. With a sigh he downs his beer, which lost its spark, causing him to make a face at the bland taste. Then he gets up and exits the Saloon. Leaving the muffled sounds of music, conversation, and laughter behind, he slouches down the porch. The evenings are pleasantly warm, now that the monsoon season is reaching the home stretch. The night sky is so clear, that a thick ribbon of stars meanders across, the absence of light pollution allowing the Milky Way to shine brightly. Going over tonight’s decisions once again, Dean heads towards the bunkhouse, when two individuals catch his eye. About a hundred yards ahead, Benny has his arm around Casey as they stroll up to the front door. Before he opens it, she tiptoes when the farrier turns towards her, meeting him in a hot kiss. “Benny, you sly dog,” Dean grins. Surely, he grants his friend the home run, but a part of him thinks of passing up Casey as a loss, now that he will be left empty-handed. The early night isn't going to happen either, since Benny’s room is next to his. He halts as the two enter the bunkhouse, passionately making out, then he breathes out a humid cloud of air. No way in hell he is going to listen to those two banging their heads against the backboard for the rest of the evening. Dean turns around, considering to head back to the Saloon, but then he notices the lighted outdoor arena. He almost forgot; Y/N is still at the barn. Maybe this evening does not have to be a total loss after all. Jo’s voice whales in the back of his mind, but it doesn't stop him from heading over. He’s just going to have a talk to clear the air, no harm in that, right? Under the stars, he strolls towards the outdoor arena, listening to the crickets which chirp loudly in the dry grass. The two lanterns spread brightness over the otherwise dark and deserted lands, creating long shadows on the ground where the fencing blocks the rays. A horse moves steadily on a large circle, relaxed and in harmony with her rider. Y/N has not noticed Dean yet, too concentrated to pick up on the spectator. There is a peacefulness in the air that distracts him from the troubles on his mind. The coolness of the night causes Meadow to breathe out warm clouds with every third beat of the gait, leaving a misty trail behind her, like a steam train puffing out clouds rhythmically. The silhouette of horse and rider passes by the fence every time they come between the wrangler and the light is as if he’s watching an eclipse. It brings a smile to the cowboy’s face. Bobby was right; Y/N is talented.

Slowly, he strolls up to the gate, moving into the yellow rays coming from the high masts. This time she does notice him and eyes the head wrangler, perplexed. He is the last person she expected to see here at this hour, especially since Casey couldn't wait to drag him away to do all kinds of dirty things to him. “H - hey,” she stammers, half surprised, half confused. “How is she doing?” he wonders while nodding at the horse, more to get the conversation going. Suddenly self-conscious about every move she makes, Y/N sits back slightly and lets her mare transition to an easy walk, loosening the reins and petting her on the shoulder with her free hand. “She’s good, a little fresh,” she responds. “I didn't expect you here.” “I was on my way to the bunkhouse, saw the lights,” Dean explains casually. The rider barely smiles at that, still unsure how to behave around him after the way she left the Saloon thirty minutes ago. An awkward silence follows and she decides to continue her training to keep busy. With a forward motion of the hand and a small aid with the legs, Meadow swiftly pushes into a lope, head down and light on the bit, as she should be. The muscles of the well-developed Quarter horse roll under her shiny coat with every stride, flexing and relaxing again. It might look like child’s play, and yet Y/N was less nervous for the Nationals last year than she is now. She can feel Dean’s eyes on her, watching every move closely. As he does, the wrangler climbs the steel fence, hooking his heels behind the middle bar and resting the palm of his hands on the top one for balance. Intrigued, he observes the training, reading into her skills. Now that she’s aware of him, her riding seems a little stiffer than it was before. Is she actually nervous now that he's here? His presumption is confirmed when she turns in the other direction halfway in a circle through a flying change. Her timing is far from perfect and the horse changes from a left to a right lope a stride too late, unable to translate the aid into an action before the perfect moment mid-stride. Despite the mistake, Y/N tussles Meadow’s manes. For a second Dean wonders if it’s because she didn't recognize the timing being off, but then she performs the exercise again, nailing it this time. Dean smiles at that, content with her method of training. Meadow did exactly what her rider inquired of her, it was the rider who inquired wrong. Where plenty would have corrected the horse or even punished it, Y/N didn't, because she was very much aware that it was a human error. After only a couple of minutes, he has a pretty good idea what kind of rider she is. Truly feeling what happens under the saddle is something most people will never get down. It’s almost like an extra sense, a skill only so many equestrians have. Y/N is one of those gifted equestrians. How she handled that communication error, is what separates horse riding from horsemanship. Satisfied, Y/N uses her seat to bring Meadow back to an easy walk, after which Y/N lets her move around freely; the mare is done for today. Now that her horse doesn't require her full attention any more, she is forced to deal with the handsome yet overbearing spectator. Why on earth is he even here? Isn't he supposed to be getting laid right now? Oh yes, seeing him with Casey rubbed her the wrong way. She’s fully aware of that fact, and he probably is too. Should she have let him push her buttons like that? No. Was it his intention to mess her up? Probably not. Was she overreacting when she barked at him back at the Saloon? Maybe a little. “Feel better now?” he asks out of the blue. Y/N furrows her brow, glancing over when she rides by his spot on the fence, trying to sense in which direction he is going. “What do you mean?” Dean shrugs, dropping his gaze to the sand for a moment. “For me, a good ride usually works as a stress reliever, and you seemed on edge earlier.” As the rider cools down Meadow by walking her on a free rein, she considers her options carefully before she speaks. Darn, so he did notice. Then again, the sneer she fired at him was hard to miss. Denying it isn't going to do her much good, so she might as well skip past it. “I'm fine. Who needs meditation when you spend time on the back of a horse, right?” she replies. She wasn't keeping up an appearance, because Dean is right. Her mood did change for the better the moment she opened the stable door and was greeted by her four-legged friend. By the time she settled on her back, the whole thing seemed silly and unimportant. “Especially on a horse like that. She’s good,” Dean compliments. “The rider could use a lesson or two…” Y/N stares at him over her shoulder self consciously, turning Meadow around to face the cowboy. Is he serious? But when she spots the smirk on the wrangler’s face, followed by the subtle wink, she cannot help but chuckle. “Let me guess: you should be the one teaching me,” she fills in. “I can't think of anyone more capable,” he grins, his eyes sparkling like the stars above. “Of course you can't,” she laughs as Meadow halts, allowing her to swing her leg over the back and smoothly lower herself until her feet reach the ground. Glad to have gotten rid of the awkwardness, Dean gets down from the fence and opens the gate. Y/N leads the Quarter mare to the tack up area under the tree and her company follows, hitting the light switch when he passes it. The arena spots die down, leaving the only light to come from inside the barn together with the moon and galaxy above. As she takes off Meadow’s bridle and replaces it with a leather halter, she cannot help but to analyze herself. When she angrily speed-walked from the Saloon to the stable with her fists clenched in her pockets, she was calling Dean out for being a dirty scumbag with no respect for women whatsoever. But now that he’s here and apparently still takes an interest in her, a part of her is thrilled by that matter, and steadily overrules. Y/N, you know better than this! He just wants to get in your pants! He will dispose of you like an empty coffee container when he’s done with you! She continues the inner dialogue while loosening the girth, after which she lifts the heavy saddle off Meadow’s back. “I got it,” Dean says, taking over the twenty-five-pound load. He holds the back of the saddle on his hip, balancing it by gripping the gullet. As if it weighs nothing at all, the wrangler heads to the tack room. Amused, Y/N watches him from under her Stetson hat, her eyes taking him in from top to bottom. Oh, you just cannot help yourself, can you? Meadow snorts impatiently and rubs her head against her shoulder. She is making herself perfectly clear; the Queen doesn't have time for this and wants to get to her hay, pronto. After a quick brush Y/N leads her to her stable and puts a rug on the horse to protect her from the cold in the early hours. Buried in thoughts, she enters the tack room where Dean is about to put the saddle away. She watches him push the saddle upon the highest rack on the wall, his strong arms working under his plaid shirt. “Can I ask you something?” she wonders while she stores away the brushes, leg protection, and bridle. “Shoot,” he says, as the two of them exit the room, which the head wrangler locks up. The cowgirl hesitates, her footsteps suddenly loud and obvious when she begins to walk down the hall between the stables. “It might be a little straightforward--” “Really? You being straightforward?” he interrupts, a smug grin on his face. “Now, that I wasn't expecting.” She glares at the handsome cowboy, but can't suppress the smile either. The sarcasm is practically dripping off his comment and she bumps her shoulder into his. “Watch it,” she warns. “You’re not entirely on my good side yet.” A last glance into the quiet stable is sufficient to reassure Dean that the horses are alright until the final feeding round. He leaves the light on for his uncle and exits the barn through the large doors. “Yeah, about that. What did I do to make you storm off?” The two of them walk out, back to the tack up area. For a moment Y/N thinks of an answer, but nothing that she can come up with sounds reasonable. To be fair, she’s not even sure if she’s ready to admit why she got so frustrated with him. Dean is a free man, who can see whoever and do whatever he pleases. Yet when Casey put her arms around him and got intimate, she felt a prick in her heart. Her stupid, stupid heart wanted to be the one close to him, even though her smart mind is trying to keep it together and do the respectable thing. “It was nothing, really,” she excuses, not giving him much of an explanation. Dean glances aside, reading into the doubt in her voice. What is it, that she doesn't want to tell him? Could it be, that in that moment, she was jealous of Casey? He thinks about it for a second, as he slowly strolls to the big Joshua tree in the center of the square. He has played a lot of girls, but that sure as hell was not what he was doing here. He never intended to lure Y/N out of hiding, though her response to the situation raises a question. If watching him and another girl really bothered her that much, does that mean that she is interested in him? Confused, he bites the inside of his cheek as he halts. “What did you want to ask me?” he wonders. For a moment there, she was lost in her own mind, but then Y/N redirects her focus and turns around to face him. Curious, he observes the young woman as he leans against the bark of the tall Yucca tree. The sight of Mister Green Eyes wonderingly looking over, forces her to take a breath before she speaks. Stars reflect in his pupils, the moon painting their surroundings in a silver hue. It reminds her of the hills back home, covered in frost at the arrival of winter. Dean’s short hair has been tousled by the hat he took off and now holds by the brim. The up-to-no-good smile is gone, but he seems content either way. God, isn't he lovely. Annoyed with herself for thinking such things, she looks down, figuring that not being mesmerized by his gorgeous looks might help her keep it together. “I was just wondering…” she starts insecure. “I - I mean, you and Casey… Are you two…?” Dean frowns at the presumption. So it was about Casey. “Together? No.” He huffs, unable to picture it. “She and some friends rent a house here for a week or two a year to blow off some steam. We’ve hooked up a couple of times whenever she comes over, but it doesn't mean anything.” Y/N digests the information and keeps her gaze pinned on the hat in his hands. It doesn't mean anything. It doesn't mean anything. See? He doesn't care about Casey and he surely won't care about her either. But if he doesn't care for Casey, she doesn’t have to compete with anyone. Wait... She’s not actually considering making a move, is she? Y/N, you are under no circumstances making a move! she tells herself sternly. God, this is what schizophrenia must feel like. Trying to distract herself from the voices in her head, she carries on with the conversation. “I'm sorry for asking. I know it’s none of my business, but I - I cannot help to wonder…” Now she does look up, a little shocked when she realizes how close Dean is. His eyes are on her, peeling away the layers as he tries to make sense of what she’s struggling to say. “If Casey is at the ranch, why are you here with me?” Stunned, Dean keeps a hold of her gaze. She isn’t asking the obvious, but that is a damn good question. Casey offered herself on a silver plate back in the Saloon. Dean never experienced much trouble with the ladies, yet the brunette, in particular, couldn't wait to open her legs for the wrangler. He could have had her in his bed right now, letting her do all kinds of delightful things to him. Yet here he is, opposite of the girl that has been giving him a hard time from the get-go. The thought of Casey did nothing for him, he simply wasn’t interested in the regular ranch guest. Why is that? Brought out of balance by the question, he chuckles nervously and breaks eye contact, fiddling with the brim of his hat again. Slowly it starts to sink in. Why he would much rather be here with Y/N under the Joshua tree. Why he felt the need to protect her from Benny’s lust. Why he lost interest in any other girl. Why every wandering thought, every daydream he had in the past week, was somehow about the one person standing before him. He looks up at her again and something within him changes. A tightness in his chest that he has never experienced before makes it difficult to swallow. It's unpleasant, scary even, but the sight of her waiting in wonder takes away the discomfort. The faint light from the night’s sky caresses her hair and smooth skin. A pair of gorgeous eyes framed with long lashes watch, traces of hesitation in them, but also curiosity. God, she’s beautiful, he thinks to himself.

Dean fails to answer her question with words. He doesn't have to. His mouth falls open just a little as he looks deep into her eyes with an intensity she is unfamiliar with, simply because no one has ever looked at her like that before. As if only now he came to realize what is happening between the two of them. He can tell that she understands now, because her insecurity makes way for astonishment. “Oh…” she responds, flustered, a shy smile growing larger. He mirrors her expression without letting go of her gaze. His pupils bounce between hers as he leans in hesitatingly. Every fiber he consists of wants to kiss the enchanting cowgirl before him and he cannot stop his eyes from flicking down at her lips for just a moment, then up again. Would she let him? What are you waiting for? Just go for it, Dean lectures himself. This isn't the first time he’s kissed a girl, however, doubt overwhelms him. What if she pulls back? What if he ruins it? Could he handle that? Before the cowboy can decide to act or not to act, she looks down and lets out a shuddering breath, the anticipation becoming too much. “Are you cold?” he asks kindly, quickly covering up the awkwardness. She crosses her arms in front of her chest and nods. Not only did Meadow get a workout, so did her rider. Her clammy undershirt has turned stone cold and sends goosebumps down her arms. Or is it Dean who is doing that? “Let’s get inside. Wouldn't want you to catch something,” he suggests, not having a jacket to offer. She agrees to that, because the warmth of the bunkhouse sounds pretty good. In silence they stroll towards the cabin, her shoulders hunched in an attempt to keep the cold at bay, as Dean walks by her side. Overcome by the rush of mixed emotions, she glances at him from under her hat. He seems to be pondering, without a doubt going over the past minute. That one moment that Dean’s reason for wanting to be around her became clear, with nothing more than a look. Holy mother, he was going to kiss you, and you glanced down? Why would you do that? What were you thinking?! She could kick herself in the head right about now. It was the responsible thing to do, to avoid things from getting complicated, to keep their relationship strictly business. But dear God, she wanted him to close that gap and press his lips on hers. Dean walks up the porch and opens the door, after which he holds the fly curtain aside so that Y/N can pass through. As soon as she steps into the bunkhouse, peculiar sounds coming from one of the rooms draw her attention. Squeaking in a steady pace mixed with moans of both male and female, followed by a muffled ‘oh yeah’ and ‘right there’. Dean, who was about to pull the door shut, freezes mid-action when the noise reaches his hearing. Well then, this situation just went through the awkward scale. Y/N slowly turns to him, eyes wide in shock as she mouths ‘Oh my god!’ and he can't contain the quiet laughter. “Who’s in there?” she whispers. “My two cents: Benny and Casey,” he replies, keeping his voice down. “Are you serious?” she returns, watching him shrug. “She lost no time, did she?” “Like I said: it didn't mean anything,” he assures, grinning at her judgment. “Besides, you’re much better company anyway.” Y/N can feel the heat rising to her face again. She opens her mouth to return the compliment, when the sounds from the other room intensify. Dear Lord, those two are really going at it. Dean chuckles, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “I'm gonna get some shut-eye, if I can with those rabbits next door.” “Yeah, me too,” she says, shaking her head as she makes a mental note to dig up a set of earplugs from her suitcase. In the doorway Y/N turns around, granting herself a last look at the man that is stealing her heart away. “Good night.” “G’night,” Dean returns with a soft voice, keeping a hold of her gaze as well until she shuts the door. The sounds of the couple in the other room is all that is left, a painful reminder of his loneliness. Could this evening have played out differently if he had kissed her? It probably could have. Shit, what if he wasted his only shot? For a few seconds the wrangler lingers, but then turns towards his room, where he sits down on the edge of his empty bed. Banning the noises of pleasure next door from his mind, Dean forks his fingers together as he leans his forearms on his knees. He's so confused by his own thoughts and how he’s responding to them, that he doesn't seem to know himself anymore. For some reason his conscience is telling him not to rush this, to take it one step at a time. What if for once in his life, this could grow into something more than just a fling? At the same time, another voice raises awareness for the mixed signals she’s been giving, because she hasn’t exactly sent him a private invitation. And even if she does go along with it for a little while, what happens when she truly gets to know him? What happens when she learns about his tainted past, the family drama, his flaws and missteps? What happens when she sees him for who he truly is, under the mask and the pile of bullshit? The only reason why he can live with himself is because he swept the dirt under the carpet a long time ago and keeps pretending it's not there. When she knows, she will leave, he’s sure of it, and the thought of that alone scares him already. But it’s his heart that shouts the loudest, practically begging to throw himself at her. His heart which was rooting for that kiss. His heart which finally seems to have found what it had been silently waiting for. Pondering, Dean rubs his face and glances at the desk clock on his nightstand, which shows the time at 10.47 PM. Next to it, a picture stares back, portraying his Mom with her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling her four-year-old son against her chest lovingly. Like he has so many times over the years, he wishes she was still alive. Right about now, this lost wanderer could use someone to point him in the right direction.

The pining! They were so close! Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

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