#While writing this I've been rewriting it time and time again

[buttercupshands]

MHA didn't create some miracle way of helping others. It was never promised to be this way. And when it came to villains...

Spoilers for manga all the way to chapter 423.

The only way to get anything in life in MHA was to be born "normal" like everyone else and that way of thinking never left Izuku with Toga getting the same treatment she did before from everyone from her family to her "normal" classmates. It was Ochako who helped Toga even if just a little by lifting the weight of all the feelings that Toga had.

She couldn't save Toga the way one could save a civilian by saving them from harm. If it worked that way Dabi would've saved Toga even before Ochako could apologize for failing to notice Toga. She was so lazer focused on saving everyone else, that she was just another villain to stop, not a human.

Even if by the end of it Ochako helped Toga to deal with her grief, acceptance as it was wasn't something possible when a quirk makes you want to drink someone's blood from jealousy.

We got a bittersweet ending with Toga, in which she probably died from blood loss just like her double did in MVA. If it wasn't for Twice she would've died back then.

Giving away her blood for Ochako wasn't a redemption or a way to save Toga in the end, more as it was her being true to herself until the very end.

Just like Twice chose to stay with the League even if Hawks offered him a way to survive that battle. He refused and died protecting his friends who accepted him instead of choosing to betray them and accept Hawks' offer.

After Twice's death... It was a matter of time that more 'active' LoV members would join him as well. As sad as it is, we now can return to Izuku.

Who, after his time OFA-AFO quirk space, now wanted to help a "crying boy" he saw in Tenko just as before with Katsuki in chapter 1. He didn't forgive Tomura and didn't excuse the way he chose to solve his problems.

It didn't mean that Tomura would survive in their battle, even if Izuku didn't see killing others as a way to solve problems. He didn't understand Tomura, but he still wanted to try, and try he did.

The rest of this post was nothing more than a contextual prologue to understand that it's not the first time a hero failed to save a villain and in Twice's case we know that he died and his death was the reason Toga started thinking about her own possible death and Dabi finally revealed himself as Toya.

The goal of saving a "crying boy" never was an end-goal for Izuku in the Final arc, since helping Tomura deal with his feelings just left him hollow with a goal that clashed with Izuku's. As being a hero for villains meant destroying the world for them to help them live freely.

But that was before AFO resurfaced.

Sadly after that Tomura who was talking about making his own choices for a while now stopped doing that. Even if he still had a goal of helping villains and only villains, Tomura was almost gone. And his goals were now unreachable.

Izuku helped Nana who in turn kept Tomura from fading away entirely. In MHA there were countless situations where Izuku's help affected people by helping a different person to keep hope, All-Might being the first one and Nana being the last one at the moment.

Hollow after Izuku helped him to get rid of his hatred Tomura could do the only thing he did - accept the situation as it was.

Accepting AFO as his Sensei, accepting Stain's ideals and Overhaul's deal was the way he solved his problems. Just like Izuku had a problem of understanding something outside of his norm, Tomura was accepting too many things, which lead to his downfall after accepting AFO's quirk.

Just like Twice could've given up everything that he had for his friends so did Tomura.

With Izuku helping as much as he could let Tomura to finally rest as he wasn't really living ever since waking up in the hospital. With his body now affected by AFO's wishes instead of his own until the end.

In a way Izuku didn't succeed in his wish for Tomura to stop ever since PLF war arc. As he "kept fighting to destroy" no matter how hard Izuku tried to stop him.

The only thing he succeeded in was changing Tomura's mind about himself, instead of viewing himself as a monster he accepted that he was a human just like Izuku said. A "crying boy" who couldn't really destroy Izuku's hands in the end.

For a group of Villains who weren't supposed to get profiles of their own at the start of the series, League is slowly fading as the most memorable group that there was in MHA, getting backstories, their own Villain themed arc all the while being as human as anyone else.

As sad as their story is they were not "unlucky", they didn't need a happy false ending where they would need to change to be normal - they chose to live this way and they lived it to it's fullest.

[magnusbae]

"surprise i have feelings and you just hurt them" is so good

Thank you anon-dearest! 🥰🥰🥰

As I was given free reign, and also was too unreasonable for self control—I didn't only write it way longer than it should have been (250w per prompt LOL) I also fully rewritten in afterwards :')

Obikin || 1,500w || Obi-Wan & Anakin formed a new Force Bond and Obi-Wan has to deal with an increase in Force Migraines poor man

▾▾▾

“Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” Anakin spits the words out angrily, punctuating each word with a sharp hand gesture.

There’s heat rolling off of him in waves, it’s a tangible thing in the Force to anyone who is even mildly attuned to it. Even small living organisms would try and stir clear from someone so prominent in the force while they’re emitting such waves of emotions. It’s unsettling to all who is untrained, unable to recognize where and why the thing they are sensing is coming from. To someone who had even just begun their training, this would be a deafening roar. As for Obi-Wan, who had happened to share a somewhat-training-but-not-bond with said individual…. It’s destructively overwhelming.

There’s a pulsing migraine building up at Obi-Wan’s temples, swiftly spreading in pulses of pain through his forehead and head, blearing his vision in a way that is usually reserved to extreme battle fatigue. Obi-Wan’s patience is not only thinned out, but fully gone by this point. The pain, and the previously failed mission do not help. Anakin’s need to prove himself had cost them an important battle and speaking of Anakin’s feelings is truly not the thing they should be concerned most with—

“I think it’s hardly a surprise Anakin” he hears himself say more than he actually thinks through the words, he hardly manages to care as much as he probably should given how violate Anakin anyways is. “You are, more than less, hammering them against the minds of anyone unfortunate enough to be within the standard hour distance from us.”

Anakin’s mouth snaps open, there’s blotchy redness across his cheeks, he seems to not find the words to describe precisely how angry Obi-Wan’s word just made him. Silencing Anakin would be a feat to be commended on a normal day, if only that was true for his Force Signature as well. A fresh wave of emotions crush against his battered shields, straining them beyond their capacity.

The moment he feels the first crack run through, is the same moment they collapse completely.

Anger, hurt, betrayal, and…

Obi-Wan’s mind is momentarily blinded by the whirlpool of emotions washing over and sucking his own mind in. There’s too much of it, all at once, all different. The indignant anger, the vulnerable hurt, the deep sense of being abandoned and uncared for, the—

Obi-Wan whimpers silently. It’s a sharp exhale more than anything, yet it’s more than enough to alert Anakin. He might have found it endearing, how quickly Anakin’s attention had shifted from himself to him, if not for the crushing wave of new emotions, even more absolute in their intensity.

Worry, anxiety, fear, anger, confusion, fear, worry—

Obi-Wan feels like he might lose his mind within them.

“Stop,” he snaps at same time as Anakin had reached out for him. The boy pulls his hand away as if hit. Obi-Wan should care for this, care for how he feels more than how he himself feels at the moment….

Hurt, confusion, anger, hurt— anxiety, fear— fear—

Anakin’s emotions spiral into a deeper, more violent vortex of darkness, a never ending cycle, one emotion swallowing the tail of its predecessor, being reborn into the next one, each time bigger, stronger.

Oh Force. Obi-Wan thinks in desperation.This is too much.

“Master?” Anakin’s Force Signature is dripping fear, there’s an urgency to it that centers Obi-Wan enough to realize, with great shame, that his own pain started bleeding through their not-quite-training-bond— or…Force Bond, if he was honest enough. Call a Bantha a Bantha.

“Master, what is wrong, why are you…?” he reaches for him again, stopping quickly and retrieving his hand away. Anakin opening and closing his fist draws Obi-Wan’s attention. He looks like he’s about to blow up, and that, Obi-Wan knows, is something that would certainly echo even louder in the Force.

“Anakin please,” he reaches out to him, despite the inherent risk of touch increasing the intensity of the Bond. He must balance the boy long enough to give himself the opportunity to gather his shields into anything resembling those of a Jedi Master. That, or leave. He is not pained enough to be that cruel. Doesn’t ever plan to be. He braces himself instead.

“Dear One,” his knuckles touch Anakin’s cheek briefly, the word of endearment is strained, forced to some degree. It’s the one that never fails to get a reaction, uncover a meeker, more gentle side of Anakin. “You are deafening me” he gives the Bond a light, barely there nudge.

Anakin jumps at that as if zapped. Eyes wide, his face shifts through a number of complex thoughts, faster than what could register or broadcast emotionally through the Bond.

Suddenly, the storm is gone. What Anakin calls shields and Obi-Wan chides as only a suggestion of such is now a durasteel tight and not leaking anywhere. The silence that follows is deafening in its own right. He has to muffle the groan of relief, not wanting to rile Anakin again

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan smiles, pained. He knows that the migraine will only worsen now that it was set off, he still can appreciate not being radiated by a small sun through it, though.

“Excellent shielding, Padawan.” He sounds sarcastic even to his ears, even though he doesn’t mean to be. Anakin doesn’t react to it, looking more troubled than angry now, a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“I’m…” Anakin bite his lower lip, still fuller than most despite him well and truly out of his teenage years. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things. “I didn’t mean to…” his cheeks are darker now, he looks ashamed. The aftertaste of Anakin’s emotion’s linger in Obi-Wan’s mind. Guilt. The last clear emotion Obi-Wan managed to decipher. Guilt for hurting him.

“I know.” Obi-Wan says curtly, he hopes that not unkindly. “I’d appreciate it if we could discuss the matter when I’m a little less…” he gestures at himself with what he hopes is the appropriate amount of self deprecation. There’s many reasons for Anakin’s lack of control, not all are good, but he still is a knight, still is learning.

There’s not a single good excuse for his own lack of mastery of himself.

“Obi-Wan, the Bond—” Anakin starts, disregarding Obi-Wan’s request in favor of what to his mind, is no bound far more urgent. The Bond. It had taken months for Obi-Wan to notice, the budding start of something new, growing in a different place than the long severed training Bond, developing over the months spent on joint missions on this endless war.

It seems that, as Obi-Wan had suspected, Anakin had managed to miss it out entirely.

“Not now, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s voice sharpens, he should feel more guilt for the way Anakin’s shoulders jump up and tense.

“Fine, whatever…” Anakin mutters, looking away, glancing back and then away again. “Feel better.” He says with more hesitation than such a simple wish should warrant for. This time, Obi-Wan feels the full extent of guilt. He was too strict with him, those past few months were strained beyond what either one of them had wanted. He needs to speak with him, properly, make amends, properly.

Not now though, not while his head is splitting into two and his Force Signature is shaking after Anakin ground it so relentlessly. Knowing that Anakin didn’t mean to, doesn’t change the reality of things, his Force Signature can be downright oppressive if left unchecked. It’s not so felt when he himself is in the state for proper shields, however the repeated missions, the lack of sleep and the loss of the recent planet… were factors that are hard to ignore.

He needs to rest. He needs to meditate. Then he’ll be fine.

Obi-Wan refuses to acknowledge, even now, that what would bring the most immediate relief would be severing the Bond. Today showcased just how dangerous it is, how out of control it is, how out of Obi-Wan’s control it is. It all makes sense, any one following logic would have done it. A bond developed without their conscious choice in the matter, one that is not appreciate for Jedi to have.

The only thing that makes sense, is to end it. Yet this is the only thing that Obi-Wan will not do, is unwilling to do. He will not severe another Bond with Anakin. The consequences of the first time still too fresh in his own mind. Both for their relationship and…himself.

“Thank you, Anakin.” he says politely, hoping that he looks more collected than what he feels like. He refuses to think of this further for today. Giving Anakin the barest of hand waves, he turns and walks off.

He needs to rest. He needs to meditate. Then, he’ll be fine…

[aplaceforstellasscribbles]

Hm. See, the problem of having more than a week (almost two weeks? I've lost track tbh) of days in a row where all my writing blocks seem to have disappeared and I am writing and editing thousands of words each day is that when I have a day where I "only" write about 2,000 is that my brain now goes "aw, that isn't very much."

And I gotta slap my brain and tell it that no!! That is quite a lot actually!! Plus that's not even counting the chapter I edited today which is a pretty long chapter (roughly 10k).

I have done very little writing since midway through 2020. Back then 2,000 words in a single day would have been a major accomplishment. Nevermind doing significantly more than that multiple days in a row.

Brain can we please celebrate this and be happy instead of disappointed that we didn't do more?

[allisonreader]

In writing that last post and all of my tags, now I want to continue to expand upon some of those thoughts and it might get into rambling on, but we'll see.

I definitely feel desperate for validation about my writing. But while saying that, I also don't want it to be all rainbows and butterflies "oh this is wonderful" it needs to have a little more substance than that. I want to hear what works and doesn't work, while not going into something overly negatively critical. A fine line to balance for sure.

I know personally that I'm more of a cheerleader type reader/hyper. Analysis of writing is not my thing. I will enjoy whatever it is for what it is unless something really takes me out of it. (Like reading a Titanic fic that supposedly takes place either still in the 1910's or 20's and Rose wearing a dress with a zipper before they were in common use. Or someone who clearly has no historical knowledge and thinking that they can use the term supermarket and iPod in the 30's and not realize that most people would have had ice boxes more than refrigerators at that point. I mean I know it's fic, but I personally couldn't finish either of those two stories.)

Anyways I lost the point I was making there.

Back to more my writing/comments. The thing is, I'm typically pretty lazy about commenting on stories myself. Most of the time when I'm reading I just want to read, unless something grabs me enough that I have to shout about it into the void or author. So I fully understand why people don't comment. Sometimes it just doesn't grab you enough to say anything about it. (Which is where I feel like most of my writing fits.) Or there's simply no energy to say anything about it and then even if you intend to say something later, you might forget about such. Sometimes it's just not to your taste so you feel like it's better to say nothing at all. (Which is still definitely better that telling someone that you should entirely rewrite what you have wrote because "it doesn't fit into canon and it should fit with canon", even when that wasn't your goal in the first place. {Clearly this still gets my goat, being told to rewrite my own story that I wasn't using outside influences to write from. Aka a book in relation to a movie that I've never read and will probably never read. And basing what I wrote just off of what is know from the movie for a speculative piece.} Still bothers me clearly. Don't tell people how to write their own stories when your ideas are not what the author intended. You didn't have to read if it wasn't meeting your expectations.)

But even with things like that, there's that desire to be told that you might be onto something. Especially when it is something that you put so much effort into. I do find it a bit easier to comment on something when I've built up a bit of a connection with someone. (So if you don't I suck at leaving comments on your writing, that just might be why. It just might be that I feel like we've conversed enough that I'm more comfortable about doing so.)

Well I had been thinking that I was jumping from one thought to the next without logic, but as I read through what I had written again, I realized that it is a little more on track than I had been thinking it had been while in the process of writing it. I do still feel like I have more to say, but I don't know if it will be any more concise than I have been above. Around and round in circles I go to try and ferret out what I actually mean or even want sometimes.

From that I will go into how as much as I deeply desire some sort of discussion about my writing, I feel weird/wrong to actively push for someone; anyone to give any sort of reaction to my writing. I mean I don't particularly care for how some people ask for reviews and comments on their fics. Those ones that sound kind of demanding or even desperately pleading make me personally less likely to write any sort of response. Even though I know why and where the sentiment is coming from. I've also had people try to barter with me, that for every comment I leave on their writing, they'd trade one on my own writing. I noped right out of that. I'd much rather someone leave a comment because they genuinely wanted to, than because they're bartering for their own stories to be commented on. So again I have a very complicated relationship with wanting comments on my own writing because of this.

It's different again if someone is looking to be a willing participant in giving a commentary and thoughts on writing too, but I definitely don't have as much experience with that. Though eventually one day I will look for people who are invested in doing a deeper dive into my writing, but I don't think I'm there yet.

[noxtivagus]

I'M SO EXCITED FOR MORE FF

[im-ovulating]

Ok so since you volunteered...EEEEE🤭🤭

I've had this thought on my mind for a while...how do you think a relationship with Alec,Paul, and Embry (separately please) would be/how would they react if they were in a relationship with reader who is slightly more traditional. She likes to cook and clean for them, and she likes to make their plate and hand it to them (paul and embry only for obvious reasons, lol).

Reader is more traditional in this way that she enjoys it but still modern and a feminist because she doesn't do it because "she's a woman and that's her job" or "it's her place" bullshit sje does it because it's a sinple way she shows affection and that she loves them. If you can add in them defending reader and getting all protective when someone says something like "you're lucky man... to have a woman who knows her place, " and they're just like "stfu she doesn't do this because of your misogynistic ideas she does it because that's how she shows love and loyalty"

(A/n: Before anyone asks- yes, yes I do think that Alec's is funny. I laughed writing it so that's all that matters lmao)

(I feel like I got a little too cookie cutter with Paul and Embry, but what can you do when you're already on your 3rd rewrite?)

Word Count: 908

Summary- Request above^^

Warnings: Misogyny (not from the boys), Decapitation in Alec's lol

Age Rating: None

Alec, Paul, Embry (separate) x Fem! Reader: Tradition

------------------------------

Alec:

"Say it again." Alec's fangs are bared inches from the lower guard's face as he pins him to the wall.

He had been making his way through the halls towards your shared quarters when he heard one of the new guards commenting about you. Normally he would have left it - it's a new guard, he's going to be killed in a few weeks' time anyway after all (Caius simply doesn't have the patience to deal with newborns), but this time was different.

It was different because it wasn't the usual comments about you being human; it wasn't the comments on what it must be like to be mated to one of the elite guards. No.

It was a comment about your more... traditional habits. The way you let him take control on most things, the way you tend to pick up around the castle despite there being lower vampires in the coven that tend to that.

What had made the normally calmer of the twins snap were the words, "At least the human knows her place is serving men."

"SAY IT!" He snarls, voice echoing off the stone walls of the castle.

"I-" The newborn starts to stammer. Before he can even start his second word, Alec's grip on his neck tightens, forcing a web of cracks to shoot up the guard's neck and splinter his face.

It only when his fingers dig in enough to finally snap the guard's head clean off that he steps back, eyes nearly black and wild and his chest heaving with unnecessary breaths. As a final disrespect, he boots the decapitated head down the hall, relishing in the sickening crack when it hits the far wall.

You round the corner just in time to see Alec standing over the headless body, his eyes slowly fading from pitch black to their usual crimson.

"Are... are you alright?" you ask hesitantly, approaching him carefully.

Alec nods, pulling you close. "I couldn't let him speak about you that way," he murmurs into your hair.

"What way?"

He just shakes his head, breathing in your scent to calm himself.

Paul:

At the first pack bonfire you've been invited to, you're busy helping Emily serve food to everyone when you overhear an older member of the tribe talking to Paul. "You're a lucky man," he says, nodding in your direction. "Having a woman who knows her place. It's rare these days..."

Paul's reaction is immediate. His body tenses, eyes flashing with anger. "Watch it," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Y/n doesn't do shit to fit a dumbass outdated role."

The man backs away, surprised by Paul's intensity. You feel a warmth spread through your cheeks, touched by Paul's defense of you.

Later that night, as you're cleaning up together, Paul wraps his arms around you from behind. "I'm sorry about earlier," he murmurs into your hair.

You turn in his embrace, meeting his eyes. "Don't be. I loved how you stood up for me."

"I just hate when people assume things about you," Paul says, his brow furrowed. "You're the most kickass woman I know. You take care of me because you want to, not because you have to."

You reach up, smoothing the wrinkles between his scrunched eyebrows. "And because you don't do it yourself," you jab, lightly.

A small snort leaves him and he leans down to kiss you gently. "I love you, baby."

"Love you too."

Embry:

The calm and peace of Emily's house is quickly broken by the whooping and excited shouting of the pack as they come clamoring in. When they catch the scent of all the food you and Emily have been making, they rush into the kitchen, crowding around the table.

You smile, watching as the boys' eyes light up at the sight of the feast. As always, you take pleasure in preparing a plate for him, carefully piling his plate full. When you hand Embry the plate, his fingers brush yours, and he gives you that warm, appreciative smile that never fails to make your heart skip.

"You don't have to do that," he murmurs, but his appreciative smile tells you he loves it.

"I know," you reply, handing him the plate. "But I want to."

"Thanks, babe," he says softly, just for you to hear.

As you both sit down, one of the newer, younger pack members makes a comment. "Man, Embry, you're lucky to have a girl who knows her place."

The temperature in the room seems to drop. Embry's eyes flash dangerously, and he's on his feet in an instant. "What did you just say?" he growls.

You place a calming hand on his arm. "Embry, it's okay."

"No, it's not. Listen to me and listen good," he addresses the newcomer, his voice low and intense. "She doesn't do this because of some outdated, misogynistic idea of a woman's 'place'. She does it because that's how she chooses to show love and care. It has nothing to do with obligation and everything to do with her heart. So keep your ignorant comments to yourself."

The teen manages to stammer out an apology and as the tension slowly dissipates, Embry sits back down, his hand finding yours under the table. You squeeze it gently, a silent thank you for his defense. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the pack and Embry's unwavering support, you're reminded once again why you fell in love with him.

[creepswrites]

MASK OF HATE | Michael x Reader

a long awaited rewrite of my favorite fanfic i've written... i've come far since my first time writing it and i'm so so happy to be able to recreate my pride and joy!! if you want to see the original, here it is! but i'm thrilled to rewrite it and i hope you all like it :)

MICHAEL MYERS X FTM!READER (he/him)

SUMMARY: The jumpsuit he wore made you think that maybe there'd been an accident with a car or something? You weren't sure. It wasn't likely he'd gotten himself out this far with a wound that bad but you couldn't really think straight to work out logistics. A man was injured and he needed help and that's all you could focus on at the moment.

WARNING: graphic depictions of violence & injuries

NEXT

The smell of wet earth enveloped you as you made your way back home. The earlier afternoon rain had let up long enough for you to walk home from work, a long day spent at the farmers market and plant nursery. It was rewarding work and one of the few jobs you'd actually wanted to be hired at. Your family had moved here a few years ago and you'd fallen in love with the town instantly. You and your father lived on the edge of town, more in the woods than the city itself, but not too far that you had to go out of your way to go to work. Even after you graduated, you still hadn't moved out. Why would you? You helped pay rent, shopped for groceries, and could tend to your garden.

It was, as far as you were concerned, the perfect location. A lovely little house surrounded by trees and bushes of flowers, overgrown with vines, and a stepping stone path that led to the front door. The house itself was covered in a dark brick with the inside a beautiful white with dark wooden floors that smelt of books and fresh fruits and vegetables. And sometimes the smell of rain leaked in when you left the windows open.

So no, you had no intention of moving.

Today was one of those days where you'd get the house to yourself. As the current chief of police, your dad was known for working late nights and leaving you to your own devices for a few days. With Halloween coming up, the police were on edge. Rumors were circling in the station that Michael had escaped again but couldn't confirm yet. They were avoiding telling the public until they were sure.

You always enjoyed walking home more than you enjoyed driving. It gave you a chance to think while enjoying music in your headphones, hopping along to the beat. You were weighing your options for dinner in your mind as you got closer to home when you felt a sense of wrongness wash over you. When your song came to an end, you lowered your headphones to hang around your neck as you scanned the nearby area with scrutiny.

The smell of iron reached you in a soft breeze that brushed your clothes and skin. Coyotes weren't unheard of but you didn't exactly have a way to defend yourself if they got any closer. Not to mention there was the chance your cat had gotten out.

You picked up the pace, grimacing when the smell grew stronger and stronger. Had your head not been on a swivel, you would have missed the way the bushes shook. You froze, swallowing hard as a man stumbled out of the treeline and onto the paved street towards you. He was tall, dressed in a dark blue jumpsuit and a white Halloween mask that rang a bell in the dark recesses of your mind. But you were too prioritized by the gunshot wound in his side that bled copiously, staining the jumpsuit in dark blotches.

"Are you okay?" You gasped, watching the man stumble for balance. He just made a grunting sound so you rushed forward to catch him by the shoulders. "Oh fuck, okay, uh, I might have a first aid kit at home. It's not far, c'mon." You said, trying not to panic. God knows how this dude was even standing with how much blood he'd already lost. But you slung his arm around your shoulders to practically drag him along. He was silent, which unsettled you slightly, but you didn't have the time to be unsettled. This man was possibly dying and that was far more important to you.

Did you need to talk to him to keep him awake? You were worried that if he did collapse on you, you wouldn't be able to move him. "How'd you even get an injury like that?" You tried, jostling him a little. The size difference was glaringly apparent like this but you did your best to move him. "You're lucky I live near here. Don't want to imagine you bleeding to death out here in the woods alone."

The jumpsuit he wore made you think that maybe there'd been an accident with a car or something? You weren't sure. It wasn't likely he'd gotten himself out this far with a wound that bad but you couldn't really think straight to work out logistics. A man was injured and he needed help and that's all you could focus on at the moment.

The walk home felt like hours but you finally pulled him up to the back door, kicked the rickety old screen door open with your foot, and practically dropped the man on the floor against the counters. No way were you carrying him up the stairs, especially not when he could track blood all over the carpet. You threw your bags aside and ran upstairs to the bathroom, hurrying past your cat Mayhem who cried in hunger. "Later." You said quietly as you began rifling through the cabinet under the sink. "I should clean this out later."

First aid kit in hand, you tore down the stairs again and came to a stop in the awning of the kitchen. The man was slumped over where you'd left him and you took the brief moment to get a better look at him. Dirty, brown work boots that were covered in grass stains and wet mud had left a small trail of dirt alongside the blood drops. The jumpsuit was mostly clean except for what looked like oil stains and the blood on his side. As you approached him, you noticed blood staining his sleeves in streaks too. Odd. You made a mental note to check his arms when you were done.

You knelt down in front of him, close enough that you could hear his frantic breathing. Like he was attempting to stay awake. "Can you tell me what happened?" You asked softly, clicking open the first aid kit and reaching for the zipper of his jumpsuit. When he flinched away, you froze. "I'll need to unzip you in order to take care of your wound."

He stared at you. Or you assumed he did. The black voids of the eyeholes left much to be desired.

"Just give me a nod." You sighed.

A moment passed but he finally nodded. A small little motion that you would've missed if you hadn't been looking. You gave him a little smile and unzipped the jumpsuit to his waist, careful to avoid brushing against the wound as much as possible. The black tank top underneath had ridden up slightly which made your cheeks warm. Stuffing that down, you helped him carefully shrug his sleeves down so you could better see the damage.

It was hard to see what had happened with how much blood covered his skin. So you reached into the kit, using one of the little sanitizing wipes on your hands before grabbing the disposable gloves. "Okay, uh, I'm not exactly a doctor so just let me know if the pain is too much, okay?" You gave him a nervous smile before hiking the tank top up more around his chest to let you wipe down the skin with a clean wet wipe.

The amount of blood was almost ridiculous. But you were eventually able to make out what was undeniably a gunshot wound. "Who the hell shot at you?" You mumbled more to yourself than to him. But he still gave you a tilt of his head as though answering. "At least the bullet went all the way through," You sighed, looking between him and your supplies as you tried to figure out what to do. "Okay. Let's… see what I can do."

You didn't know anything about gunshot wounds, much less how to clean them. But you'd helped patch your dad up when he stuck himself with a fishing hook so you figured it couldn't be that much more difficult. Anything was better than letting it get infected. "Sorry," you said softly before giving his hand a squeeze, "This is gonna suck."

And you poured the hydrogen peroxide on both ends of the wound, wincing at the pained grunt he let out. You kept apologizing as you fumbled around for the needle and thread, also dousing that in the peroxide before you tried to stitch him up. Sewing had never been a skill of yours but it was the best you could offer him. At least until you could get him to a hospital. You pressed gauze at either end of the wound before wrapping him tightly in bandages. "I think the wound is supposed to drain? I think I remember hearing stuff about that. We'll have to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't get infected." You tried to give him a reassuring smile and sat back to view your handiwork. It was probably sloppy, yeah, but at least it was cleaned and covered.

It could've been much worse.

"Can you pass me one of the wipes?" You asked, holding up your bloodstained hands and giving him a toothy grin. "I don't wanna stain everything with blood."

He offered you a blank stare before reaching slowly into the kit and handing you one of the little packages. You tore it open and got to scrubbing. "I'd give you a sucker for being a good patient if I had any. Would you take dinner and a shower instead?" You scooted back to clean up more, letting him stand on shaking legs. "My dad shouldn't be back till late. But he should be able to drive you to a hospital once I explain-"

At that, he shook his head violently no. "No, what?" You paused, brow furrowing. "No hospital?" He gave you a nod. "I'm not exactly a doctor. Your injury probably needs more than my below average sewing skills and half a bottle of peroxide." But still, he shook his head. "Fine. Okay. No hospital." You sighed loudly, giving him a quick once-over. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

He tried to pull away but you finally saw it: a spot on his opposite shoulder where he'd been just grazed by a bullet. More a flesh wound than anything, but you'd missed it in your stitching him up. "Alright, c'mere mister," your tone was light as you raided the kit for more gauze and bandages. "Got anything else you're hiding from me?" You gave him a playful smile as you wrapped and cleaned his wound. "It doesn't look too bad. I'm way more worried about the gunshot wound." You trailed off. "I wasn't kidding about dinner and a shower though. My dad's got clothes I bet could fit you. Though the pants may be a bit short." He gave you a calculating look as you shrugged. "At least until I get your jumpsuit washed."

The two of you just stared at each other for a while. His head tilted slowly in confusion and you couldn't help but snort. "What, you think I'll just patch you up and throw you out? Not a chance. C'mon," you took his hand and led him towards the stairs. Mayhem had ventured downstairs and began to sniff you both over, hissing at your guest despite your soft scolding.

Once inside the bathroom, you tossed the first aid kit back in as the man took a look around the small space. White tiled floors and faint, floral wallpaper framed a huge mirror, spanning the distance of the smooth countertops. You pride yourself on keeping the bathroom clean, so you only winced slightly at the dirt on the work boots that left a small trail of dirt behind. "I'll get you some clothes if you want to get undressed. I don't mind washing your clothes for you." You gave him a smile, sidestepping him to slip back out into the hall. "A shower might help you feel better. Just try to avoid getting your bandages too wet."

You left him in the bathroom and slipped down the hallway to your dad's room. A rifling through his dresser earned you some plain sweatpants and an old, black shirt you knew he wouldn't miss. Worst case scenario, your guest bled all over the shirt and you'd have to throw it out.

Heading back towards the bathroom, a realization came to you. "Hey, I'm sorry, I don't think I introduced mys-" You froze in the doorway, words dying on your lips. The man had his back to you and had shrugged the jumpsuit off the rest of the way, his boots laying near the doorway by your feet and the blue material like a puddle around his ankles. His shoulders were broad and you could make out tiny scars that littered his forearms and shoulders. His mask had remained but that wasn't what surprised you.

He didn't have underwear on.

Your face felt like it was on fire as you slammed fresh clothes down on the counter, pointedly not looking at him. "Alright, here's your clothes, bye!" It felt like your words slurred together as you slammed the door behind you, leaning against it with an embarrassed sigh.

Once you heard the water turn on, you went downstairs to clean up the kitchen floor, grateful the blood hadn't dried too much yet.

Mayhem, having decided you'd spent long enough fussing over your guest, began to complain and shout for his dinner. "Alright, you needy thing, c'mere." You scooped him up and pressed a kiss to his fuzzy head. "Let's get you fed and then see about feeding our guest, yeah?"

Mayhem meowed, as though enthused only about the coming tuna.

The man took his time showering but you didn't really mind. He certainly needed it. Plus, you could empathize there - showers always made you feel much better too. In the meantime, you'd snuck back upstairs to grab his clothes and toss them into the washing machine. When you'd gotten a good look at his clothes, you recognized the auto mechanic company logo on the jumpsuit. "L. Smith?" You'd wondered aloud, frowning to yourself. "Pretty sure I'd tutored his kids when I was a junior…" But he didn't look anything like Lawrence Smith. "Maybe it's just a common name," you had mumbled. Something about this whole situation felt off but you couldn't exactly place why.

You shook your head slightly and sighed, trying to dismiss a nagging feeling you had in the back of your mind. Sparing a glance down at Mayhem, who brushed against your leg insistently, you frowned. "You don't think this is Michael Myers, right?"

Big yellow eyes blinked up at you and you sighed, chewing on your lower lip. Not much about the Myers case was made public beyond his crimes and his mugshot. Your dad had refused to divulge anything to you about the case and you'd only managed a quick peek at crime scene photos. Nothing about the way the man had been dressed or anything like that. Besides, it had been so long since that night that any details you could have seen have been lost to time.

"Impossible." You decided with a shaking sigh as you opened the can of tuna, not even believing your own words despite their conviction. "There's simply no way."

The sound of thunder outside was a welcome distraction from your thoughts. The rain had always been peaceful to you, the smell of wet earth and the chill breeze from the window had you relaxing. You smiled, whistling for Mayhem to come get his dinner and slipped past your hungry cat into the kitchen once again.

Cutting the vegetables and boiling pasta was peaceful, a wonderfully monotonous task you could just get lost in with the soft white noise of the rain. You would have missed the sounds of the shower turning off if you'd been any more zoned out. You had just taken the tomatoes out to cut them up when you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder and took him in. The sweatpants had stopped just above his ankles, which you had expected. What you hadn't expected was the way his broad chest filled out the shirt, struggling to hug around his biceps. You turned back around to hide your swooning, biting your lip hard to keep yourself from smiling like a fool. He'd put the mask back on but you couldn't even bother to give it a thought.

Swallowing, you cleared your throat. "Are the bandages alright?" You asked, turning your attention back to the tomatoes. He didn't say anything but, then again, you hadn't really expected him to. "Pasta's boiling right now so dinner should be ready in a few minutes if you want to sit down." You gestured to the nearby dining room table with only a few chairs pulled up. But you didn't hear him move. The feeling of eyes on the back of your neck made you tense for a moment but you brushed it off. If he needed something, he'd let you know, right?

As you reached for a knife, his hand shot out and covered yours. You weren't even aware he'd gotten that close and you jumped in surprise. The eyeholes of the mask bore into you as you turned to look at him once again. "Do you… want to help?"

He just tilted his head, as though bewildered by your offer.

You move your hand aside to let him grab the knife, stepping to the side to give him room at the cutting board. "You just have to make them into small chunks. Try and get them around the same size, I'll get the garlic going." You hummed, your fingertips barely grazing the extra knife before he grabbed your wrist tight, jerking your hand back. A surprised yelp left you as you stared wide-eyed up at him, noticing the way he white knuckled his own knife.

Something about this was very wrong.

Swallowing back your terror, you held eye contact with him, the two of you locked in a standstill. The room was silent except for his heavy breathing, barely audible over the pounding storm outside. Soft bluish grey light cast shadows on his face, making the eyes of the mask seem like bottomless pits. Everything felt frozen in time as the two of you stared at each other.

You were the one who broke the tension, reaching over with your free hand to uncurl his fingers from your wrist as casually as you could. Anxiety pounded through you when you heard his breathing hitch. "Don't worry," you gave him a weak smile once you were freed, "I have every confidence in you." You said, giving a weak gesture to the tomatoes laying on the cutting board. You slowly moved towards the stove to set about roasting the garlic cloves, trying to appear as calm as possible while he continued to stare you down.

You only let your shoulders drop when you heard him start slicing.

Making the rest of dinner didn't take long, especially with your guest's help. He seemed unwilling to leave you alone now, hovering around you as you finished cooking and plating dinner - pasta with garlic sauce and dried tomatoes - and only retreated to the living room when you'd reassured that you were right behind him. He took a seat on the couch and you caught him staring at Mayhem comfortably sprawled out on his favorite chair.

"His name is Mayhem," you told him as you sat beside him, setting two water glasses down before digging in. "He won't bug you, he knows he's not allowed on the couch."

The man's head turned slowly to look at you, letting you get a brief sight of one of his eyes: a blue-green color that looked almost hazel in the darkness of the mask. You held in a soft gasp and turned away, trying to push the idea that the man was pretty from your mind. You hadn't even seen his face for crying out loud! Much less gotten his name.

Instead, you just clicked the television on. "Anything in particular you wanna see?" You asked around a mouthful of food. "We've got movies too but I dunno if you like horror." You hummed, setting your plate down briefly to shuffle over to the drawers in the tv stand, leafing through VHS tapes. "It's almost Halloween though," you smirked, "But, judging by your mask, you knew that."

His eyes were boring holes into you again but you just chuckled to yourself. While you pride yourself on being good at reading body language, his ramrod straight posture and silent staring was like gazing at a white canvas. But maybe that's one of the reasons you liked him so much: he wasn't complicated to understand, when he needed to be heard.

You pulled out a particular VHS and flashed it to him. "Do you like cartoons?" You asked, dangling 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown' for him to see.

He nodded then - so clear and obvious that you didn't waste any time popping the tape in and sitting back down alongside him. You kept your eyes glued to the screen as you ate, hoping that would be enough privacy for him to comfortably eat. He'd have to give you his name later, at the very least, but you felt the urge to give him some semblance of privacy as he ate. So you kept your eyes off him and the two of you ate in amicable silence, both your attentions rapt on the little cartoon. He ate like he was starving for it and practically chugged the glass of water when he was done, which made your heart hurt a little.

How long had this guy gone without eating or drinking anything?

"There's more in the pot if you want. Help yourself." You said softly, bumping his knee gently with yours to get his attention. He'd tensed up slightly at the contact and you momentarily scolded yourself for that. He was clearly not good with touch, but it had just felt natural to do for him.

But he didn't seem to hold it against you and just stood up, retreating into the kitchen with his plate. You watched him with a slight smile on your face. He was, no doubt, intriguing. His mysteries had you utterly fascinated and there was so much you wanted to ask. But a part of you feared the answers, paranoid your suspicions would be proven correct.

He would have killed you if that were the case, right?

The two of you continued watching movies once you'd learnt he hadn't, in fact, seen most horror films. "Well obviously I'm going to show you 'The Thing,'" you'd said as Charlie Brown came to an end. "It's one of my favorites, I think you'll like it." His staring didn't bother you anymore so you took his silence as agreement when the movie began playing. The night continued like that, the two of you watching movies together. Horror films seemed to intrigue him and you swore he jumped a little at some of the visceral body horror moments. But the two of you had cozied up just a little. He'd finally sunken back into the couch and had tolerated you scooting closer to him.

You were halfway through Frankenstein when you heard the phone ring in the kitchen. "Be right back," you whispered to him, feeling his eyes on you as you walked away. A quick glance at the clock revealed it was nearly midnight and you frowned. Your dad should've been home by now and your guest didn't seem in any hurry to go home. Didn't he have somewhere to go?

Regardless, you stepped into the kitchen on socked feet and plucked the phone off the receiver. "Hello?

"Kiddo? Oh thank god you're alright!" Your dads voice sounded monetarily relieved, letting out a sigh as he spoke. "You should've called me after you saw the news." He said, once again becoming frantic. "Lock all the doors, keep Mayhem inside tonight, and-"

"Calm down," you cut him off, "What's going on? I haven't even seen the news, I've been watching movies with-"

Your dad wasted no time cutting you off as well. "Just stay inside, okay? Keep your eyes on the news and just- just stay safe. My pistol is in my room in the bedside table if you need it."

A sinking dread began to settle in the pit of your stomach as you twirled the phone cord. "Just tell me what's going on!" You became equally frantic, running your hand through your hair in frustration.

He was silent for a moment before sighing. "Look, I'm not supposed to tell you. This is strictly police business. But the last thing I want is you digging into this yourself-"

"That was one time-!" You protested.

But he ignored you. "There's a killer on the loose." His words were like a gunshot to your chest. "We nearly caught him this afternoon but he managed to escape. We're- we're not sure where he'd gotten off to so I want you to stay inside and call me if you hear or- or see anything strange."

A lapse of silence passed and you can tell your dad was about to hang up but you quickly squeaked out. "What's his name?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you." His voice had a finality to it. He didn't plan on telling you.

You knew how to play him though. You faked a sniffle and a sob. "Dad, please, I- I need to know what I'm up against! W-what if he gets inside?"

Despite his voice being barely a whisper, it was deafening to you. "Michael Myers."

Instantly, you sobered up. Your fears were confirmed and you felt your blood run cold. Michael Myers was sitting in your living room in your dads clothes after you'd had dinner together. He'd been fascinated by Charlie Brown and had jumped a little at the chest defibrillation scene in The Thing. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield had helped you cut tomatoes and let you tend to his wounds.

You were still alive. As terrifying as this revelation was, you were curious why he hadn't killed you. You didn't know Michael Myers to be very forgiving or benevolent…

Wrapping up the call with your dad, you practically slammed the phone back into the receiver, your back still to the living room. You steadied your resolve and forced your hands to still when you turned back around. You nearly slammed into him when you did. He'd been eavesdropping and the idea that his mercifulness would end made you talk before he could move. "Seems we're locked in tonight." You managed a smile and a shrug. "Dad says it's too dangerous to go out tonight so at least it'll just be us two. If you want, I can set you up on the couch to sleep when you're ready."

He continued to stare at you and you swore he almost seemed…surprised.

You sidestepped him to head back into the living room and he let you, though he was hot on your heels. "Means you and I get more movie time though." Grinning up at him, you sat back down with a soft "oomf" and looked up at him expectantly. If you just acted like everything was fine, maybe he wouldn't kill you?

It seemed as good an idea as any.

Eventually he rejoined you on the couch after staring at you for a few good minutes.

You knew. And you had a feeling he knew that you knew. But what could you even do? It wasn't like you stood a chance against him if he decided to attack you. In fact, a part of you felt almost guilty for withholding your newfound information from him. He was literally a serial killer and you didn't want to make him think you were against him.

Which bewildered you. Why would you feel bad? You knew, logically, you should call your dad back and tell him Michael was here and let him and the rest of the force come try and catch Michael before he ran you through with a knife.

He'd extended trust to you though. You recognized that. You didn't want to betray that, especially since you didn't know who the last person he trusted could have been.

As the movie came to an end, you decided to take a risk. "Want me to make popcorn, Michael?" You kept your tone light and casual as you stood and stretched.

You didn't even get two steps in before he was up, grabbing your wrist tight and spinning you to face him. You kept your smile light and tilted your head the way he liked doing. "I think I have M&Ms if you want me to mix those in too." He continued to stare and you finally sighed. "I already knew. I, uh, had my suspicions before we made dinner. But dad called and confirmed it, basically." His grip tightened but you brushed it off. "I'm not going to tell anyone." You finally admitted.

His posture remained rigid, like he expected a fight. You felt your heart break a little. Has he ever had anyone be kind to him ever since that night? "Do you know about doctor-patient confidentiality?" His blank stare was an answer in itself. "When a doctor treats a patient, that patient has the right to keep their information private. Including their name." You placed your free hand atop his in what you hoped was a comforting gesture. "So, since you're technically my patient, I don't have to tell anyone anything." He still seemed confused and you just let out a soft sigh. "I'm not gonna rat on you, is what I'm saying."

He seemed to consider this before giving you a slow nod.

A part of you was relieved. A fair trade, you thought as you went into the kitchen to make popcorn. You patched him up and fed him and, in exchange, he didn't kill you.

The two of you wound up watching movies late into the night, with you adding soft commentary as you munched on popcorn and M&Ms. By 2AM you were fading, your head lolling to the side and bumping against Michael's shoulder in your attempts to fight off sleep. He was warm and, despite knowing who he was, you felt safe.

So you'd nodded off.

The next time you opened your eyes, you were being shaken awake by your father. "Get up," he whisper-yelled as he turned off the tv, a quick flash of the movie menu disappearing as soon as you saw it. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

You hummed, yawning and rubbing your eyes. "Early." A glance at the clock confirmed it was nearly 6AM. "Sorry, guess I was up watchin' movies." You sat up and looked around a little before your sleep-addled brain immediately recalled that Michael Myers had been sitting on your couch last night and you looked around.

As your dad herded you upstairs and past the kitchen, you noticed Michael's boots were gone. The dishes had been left atop the table but yours had been placed in the sink as though to hide the fact there had been two people here. Once of the knives from the block was missing too, but that didn't surprise you.

If your dad's weary expression was anything to go by, Michael had escaped before he'd gotten home. "'m headin' to bed," he grumbled, "You should too." He said before shuffling into his bedroom, closing the door with more force than intended. You nodded to empty air before retreating into your bedroom, noticing Mayhem lazily dozing on top of your messy bedsheets.

Your bedroom was dim and cool, the morning light just starting to shift the pitch black sky into a dark tealish blue color. Raindrops still covered the window, indicative of the storm that must be still going. You frowned and went to close your curtains to avoid being blinded by the sun once it rose but you paused just before you could yank the fabric closed.

There, across the street, only visible thanks to the streetlight he stood under, you could see Michael Myers staring up at you.

Dumbfounded, you smiled and gave him a little wave, swaying on your feet as you tried not to swoon. You wanted to believe he wouldn't hurt you, seeing as he had ample opportunity to do so and had instead laid you gently down on the couch to sleep when he'd decided to leave. But the realistic part of your brain reminded you, as you closed your blackout curtains, that it should be more concerning that you'd become a fixation of his.

You'd heard of Laurie Strode and how she was assumedly his previous fixation, seeing as he'd stalked her for a while before deciding to take action against her friends. She'd been terrified of him for years and continued to lock herself in her house for the past two years to protect herself against him. Despite her fear of him, she'd yet to move out of Haddonfield.

There wasn't any point in trying to figure her out though. She was of no help to you. You couldn't tell anyone about what was going on or risk yourself or Michael.

You were far too tired to think about any of that for now and just flopped down into bed, freezing when your hands brushed an unfamiliar texture. After scrambling around under your stomach, you held up Michael's tank top. He must have left it for you when he'd gone to change into his jumpsuit. You felt your face heat up at the implications of him leaving his shirt for you, opting instead to shove it under your pillow with your cheeks burning.

The memories of him in the tshirt filled your head as you fell back asleep.

Crunching dry, brittle leaves beneath your boots, you made your way into town for work. You always liked the walk, especially with how beautiful Haddonfield got in the fall. A gorgeous watercolor painting of oranges, browns, and reds, touches of yellow and green giving pops of color. Despite the tragedies that had happened two years ago, Halloween decorations were still up in full swing, the town determined to celebrate no matter what. There was even a small festival at the farm nearby, complete with haunted houses, hayrides, and pumpkin patches. Halloween spirit was everywhere and you loved it. It'd always been your favorite holiday, even before a certain man fell into your life.

As you approached the plant nursery you worked at, you mulled that over. The police hadn't caught Michael yet but were working round the clock. And although you hadn't seen him in person since he'd stayed over a few days ago, you'd seen glimpses of him. Enough to know he was definitely stalking you. While you should logically feel afraid, you instead felt… oddly comforted.

You stopped beating yourself up over why. You knew why. Michael Myers was the most dangerous person alive and he was looking out for you, in a way. You felt safe with him watching you. So you played the game and pretended not to see him. It was easier to play along anyways and, as far as you knew, he hadn't killed anyone since he found you. No one your dad talked about at least.

So you'd been spending more time in town or out in the woods, hoping that entertaining him would keep him from killing. At least, you hoped so.

It didn't help that you still found yourself fascinated by him.

You'd stopped beating yourself up for that too. Most people you knew were predictable, bland, or boring. They had routines and patterns that were easy to predict. But Michael wasn't like that. You never knew what he was thinking or how he'd behave. He was interesting, unique, and unpredictable.

You liked that. Maybe that was sick or twisted of you, but it was true.

"Helloooo?" Your co-worker's soft voice pulls you from your thoughts. "Did those blackberries do something to you?" Kalei snorted, nudging you gently. "You've been staring at them for, like, ten minutes now."

You responded with a yawn, rubbing your eyes. Despite having only been at work for a few hours, you were ready for it to be over. "Sorry, jus' haven't been sleepin' well." You slurred as you tried to give her a smile.

"Bad dreams?" Kalei asked, frowning slightly as she set her own blackberry plant aside. Working at the plant nursery had been your idea, more interested in working with plants than people. But Kalei was a good friend and always looked out for you. It was nice to have company while taking care of the plants.

You chewed on your fingernail and gave her a little shrug. "Just been… thinking about a guy, I guess."

They let out a shocked gasp. "A GUY?!" Kalei squealed, ignoring your desperate attempts to shush them. "Tell me everything RIGHT NOW, oh my god!" 

You blushed, trying to get them to quiet down, flustered at the idea of Michael listening in. "It's not anything serious! Just, um, met this guy and he's… interesting. I like him." You blushed at the childishness of your own words, focusing on your plants to avoid meeting Kalei's eyes.

They gave you a nod. "Well, as your workplace bestie, I am obligated to give him The Talk."

You chose to not mention the fact there were only five total employees counting you both. "Kay, it's Illinois. I doubt he'd be interested in me, available or not." Which wasn't untrue. Even if Michael was interested in you, it likely wasn't anything beyond obsession. At least the obsession went both ways, you thought to yourself with a private smile.

"Well, regardless, I have a duty to fulfill." They beamed at you, hands on their hips. "You're a cute guy and, if I didn't have a partner, I'd take you out sometime." They ignored your snort and continued. "If this guy screws you over, I'll kick his ass for you."

If only they knew, you chuckled to yourself as you left Kalei to attend to a customer. Michael wasn't exactly great "bring-home-to-the-parents" boyfriend material. Much less introduce to your co-worker. When you'd finished helping the customer, you froze at the sight of movement in the tree line across the road. Standing in the tall grass and brush, you swore you saw Michael standing there…

As far as you were aware, he stayed close by to watch as you finished your shift. You hoped that as long as he was watching you, he wasn't out killing someone. Hopefully. For all you knew, he could be supernatural.

But you'd let him watch you. The whole rest of your shift, the walk home, and as you got in the car to go shopping. While you usually got vegetables and fruits from the plants at your work, you still needed to get normal groceries at the store. So you parked around back to be a little more secluded and went inside.

It was a cute little supermarket, clean linoleum floors and shelves lined with food. You didn't need much but you definitely needed to refill your medkit and find a proper first aid book, just in case. Thankfully, it was relatively empty that day, meaning you had free reign of the aisles to explore and take your time shopping.

You knew Michael wouldn't come in the store but you didn't doubt he was waiting for you outside.

So when you finished loading your grocery bags into the trunk of your car, you didn't feel surprised when you heard footsteps approaching you. Michael was definitely taking a risk being out with you in public but you hadn't exactly spoken to him in a few days and you were itching for the chance.

Turning around, however, you were met face to face with an unfamiliar black ski mask. Definitely not Michael. The stranger grabbed you by the arm before pulling out a knife, his head on a swivel. "G-gimme all your cash! Now!" He hissed, jerking you aggressively.

"I don't have anything on me." You said calmly. Your dad had always prepared you for situations like this so you didn't worry too much, even with the glint of his knife in the corner of your eye.

"D-don't bullshit me! I know you j-just got outta there. G-gimme what you've got and I'll b-be on my way!" He spat at you, pulling you closer to press the knife against your neck.

You caught the faintest of movement in the shadows of the alleyway behind him but you kept your eyes on him to prevent the guy freaking out. "Okay. Let's just calm down," you said, keeping your movements slow as you reached for your hip, pretending to go for your wallet. The guy kept looking around frantically as though expecting something to jump out at him. Police, most likely. But when you saw the white face of a familiar mask over his shoulder, you felt a sense of calm settle over you.

"C-c'mon!" He hurried you, jerking the knife again to threaten slicing your throat.

At that moment, you jerked back as hot blood splashed across your face. Michael had effortlessly slashed the guy's neck open from behind, bright red falling like rain against the concrete below. You closed your eyes as the choked gurgles of the mugger's voice faded to silence and his body hit the ground. It was like you were frozen in place, unable to make your muscles move as you listened to the sounds of Michael killing the man. The vicious stabbing sounds made your skin crawl and you turned away from the scene entirely to check yourself over.

You hadn't gotten blood anywhere besides on your face, which was good. Easier to clean.

This was inevitable, you reminded yourself. That man wanted to hurt you and Michael was doing you a favor. Still, you tried to steady your breathing, bracing on the trunk of your car as he dragged the body away, presumably to hide it.

You heard Michael start to approach you and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. His footsteps could be silent, almost supernaturally quiet, so if he was making an effort to be loud, you knew it was his attempt to make you feel better. To let you know he was coming.

He stood in front of you now, covered in fresh blood and gripping his knife tightly. You were thankful for the setting sun that cast dark shadows over you two, obscuring the bloodsoaked Michael from view on the streets. You noticed the body slumped against the wall a little ways away and you swallowed back bile. "T-thanks." Your voice was soft and you cleared your throat. "For saving me."

It was only an assumption that he'd killed that guy to protect you. He didn't have to. He could have just let you die or at least be robbed. You were confident in that assumption though. He wouldn't risk your game ending so soon. 

On some level, he wanted you alive.

The blood on your face was beginning to dry uncomfortably and you desperately wanted to go home. You gestured to your car and gave Michael a tilt of your head. "You coming?" He seemed to weigh his options in his head before casually making his way for the passenger seat after a brief deliberation. "What's the plan if we're caught?" You asked him with a raised eyebrow and climbed into your own seat.

Turns out, once the cops got wind of the body, they were very easy to avoid. Predictable, you thought as you gripped your steering wheel tighter, careful to not draw attention to your car as you drove through the windy roads that led to your house.

You got Michael inside, shoving the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter as Mayhem came around the corner, meowing for attention and approaching Michael to give him a curious sniff.

It was then that you remembered stories your father would tell you about how Michael would kill animals for fun as a boy. How he'd leave the dead bodies of cats and birds in his locker at school to terrify the other kids. You weren't sure how truthful the stories were but you felt a heavy pit of anxiety when Michael looked down to acknowledge Mayhem.

"If you hurt Mayhem, I will turn you in." Your voice was steady despite the way you trembled. His head snapped up to look at you and you could feel the glare behind it. "I mean it. T-this is one thing I'm not bending on. He's my kitty and I won't let you hurt him."

Michael was still for a moment, letting Mayhem rub against his boots and yowl as though expecting the man to feed him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he bent over and let his fingers brush against soft black fur. The motion was gentle, like either you or the cat would lash out should he make a mistake. Mayhem loved the attention, purring and rubbing against his fingers more, which made you smile.

He was usually an anxious cat so seeing him this comfortable with Michael made you smile. You set about making up Mayhem's dinner while Michael tried to navigate petting him. He was shockingly gentle despite clearly never having pet an animal. "Did you have pets as a kid?" You asked as you scraped food into the bowl.

He didn't answer but you didn't really expect him to. His hand was still, just letting Mayhem rub all over it and meow at him. It was endearing, you thought as you set the bowl down and let Mayhem go to town on it. Michael's head tilted curiously as he watched and gently stroked his back once before standing back up.

"I think he likes you," you giggled, scritching the cat behind the ear.

Michael just watched the cat before slowly standing back up and heading back into the living room. You followed him, tugging on his sleeve gently. "Want me to wash your clothes?"

Your words trailed off when you noticed Michael was looking at a photo of you with your dad at your graduation party. A tired sigh left you when the man tilted his head. "I don't… want to talk about that." You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's not like it's easy to plan for your own dad's murder." The words were heavy in your mouth and you forced yourself to look away from the photo.

Ever since your mom had died, you knew your dad had been different. She'd died in childbirth with you and all your dad's friends would whisper about how that changed him drastically. He'd always been distant with you, especially as you'd grown up. When you'd hear stories about him before your mom died, he sounded like an entirely different man: happy, enthusiastic about life, and excited to be a father.

But then your mom died and he retreated inward. As though the whole thing was entirely your fault. He didn't want to parent you on his own and therefore you had to grow up taking care of yourself instead. 

"Whatever you have to do," you swallowed, turning away from Michael entirely and your voice hollow, "Just make it as painless as you can."

It wasn't like there was an easy way to ask him to kill your dad painlessly. You tried not to dwell on how easy it would be to let him go. It wasn't exactly like he'd ever been there for you anyways.

"So. Your clothes. I, um, still have your shirt and the sweats you borrowed are clean, if you want to change." You changed the topic quickly, ignoring the way he stared at you. The last thing you possibly wanted was pity from the Boogeyman. "Either way, I'm going to go wash my face before someone sees me."

You went upstairs to the bathroom, leaving Michael to his own devices downstairs. You opened drawers at random until you found the wet wipes you kept stashed for when you wore makeup. Some good hard scrubbing and scented lotion and it's like you were never there, all evidence flushed down the toilet and out of sight. You sighed, staring at yourself in the mirror as the events of the day hit you, leaving you feeling winded and exhausted all at once. You were complacent in a crime now. It wasn't just you hiding Michael from the cops, you'd let him kill a man in front of you.

Trying to argue with yourself that it was self defense was pointless. No use in lying to yourself.

When you opened your eyes, unsure of when you'd closed them, you met Michael's eyes where he stood in the doorway of the bathroom. "Oh, sorry, do you want to shower?" Before you could even move to leave, he unzipped the jumpsuit, leaving you speechless.

You gasped in horror at the state of his chest. The black shirt was gone and left his bandages on display, dirty and stained with reddish-brown blood that mixed with ugly yellow pus from the drainage of the wound. It reeked of infection even a few feet from him. "Michael!" You hurried to him to get a better look, feeling sick for the second time today. "Christ, you should have come to me before it got this bad! With how wet it's been… Take these off and sit down on the edge of the tub. God, this looks awful."

Michael sat, watching you with amusement. At least you assumed it was amusement. Though you couldn't find anything funny about this. "I should have stitched you," you mumbled as you reached for your first aid kit and began sterilizing a pair of scissors, "Or at least looked up what to do."

Swallowing back your squeamishness, you cut him free of the bandages, practically retching when you got a better look at his wound. It had somehow gotten worse, a painful red and oozing pus. "Oh my god, Michael." Your voice was barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry."

He tilted his head and you almost wanted to smack him. How he wasn't in any noticeable pain was bewildering to you.

You began to undress him, uncaring of any potential nakedness, and he grabbed your wrists tight when you reached forward to take off his mask. "Michael, this infection could kill you. I need to see if you're running a fever. So either let me touch your forehead or I'm touching your neck." 

He stood quickly, stumbling slightly as he grabbed the bloodstained knife from where he'd apparently set it down on the counter. But you didn't back down. "Be mad all you want, this is really fucking infected and I'm not letting you get worse." You sighed, racking your brain to come up with an idea to placate him. "If I close my eyes, will you let me take your temperature?" 

Slowly, his shoulders fell. Which confused you. You'd seen his mugshots, you knew he wasn't disfigured or anything like that. So his insistence at not being looked at confused you but now was not the time to be worrying about that.

Prettiness aside, you needed to help him.

So you shut your eyes and held out your hand. A minute passed without Michael moving and you briefly worried he'd left the room entirely. Before you could open your eyes, you felt his fingers encircle your wrist and press it to his neck. You felt him swallow and you tried your best to focus on how hot his skin felt and not how this was an incredible show of trust. Goosebumps erupted across your arms as you cupped his neck gently.

His skin was soft and feverish and you felt your heart clench.

"You're definitely running a fever," you sighed. "I'll look for a sewing kit or something to stitch you up but I want you to shower and get all that gross off first. Don't scrub too hard, okay?" Before you could retract your hand, his grip on your wrist tightened. "Are you-?"

He lifted your hand, letting your fingers graze his bare cheek. You felt Michael lean into the touch momentarily and you reacted quickly, holding his face gently. He was burning up so hot you weren't sure how he was even standing in this condition. When was the last time anyone had taken care of him? Or the last time he was even sick?

Judging by his height, he was likely slumped against the bathroom counter. The idea made your heart clench. Despite every instinct in your body telling you to pull away, you ran your hand up the side of his face in a gentle, soothing motion. Your fingers ran through tangled hair, soft and curly, before sliding down behind his ear to rest back on his neck. "You'll be okay," you said softly. "The fever will break and you'll be back on your feet in no time."

Having had enough of being touched, he took you by the shoulders and moved you aside, careful to not let you stumble and fall. You kept your eyes closed when you heard the shower turn on and the curtain shift as he stepped inside. Only then did you open your eyes.

What... was that?

You looked down at your hand like it offended you before shaking your head in bewilderment. He'd never fail to surprise you.

You figured out pretty quickly that that instance of seeking your touch was the extent that Michael wanted you to touch him. He barely tolerated you checking him over for fever symptoms, opting instead to lounge in your bed like he'd been exorcised of a demon.

For the past few days, you'd done your best to keep Michael's presence in your house a secret. With your workaholic dad's late hours, he usually just came back home, ate a frozen dinner, and passed out in his bedroom before waking around 9AM to stumble to work and repeat the process all over again. So, provided Michael kept quiet, there wasn't any worry. You'd taken a few days of sick leave from work to take care of him, citing a head cold. Now you just had to hope that the police would continue their dedicated search even if people weren't dying.

You wondered, as you sat on your bed with a feverish serial killer half naked and asleep beside you, if hoping he recovered soon made you a bad person.

Probably.

But god he was a bitch when he was sick.

He kept the godforsaken mask on, which you had expected. But when his fever rose to 102 you had kind of hoped he'd take it off for the sake of wanting to cool down. He was persistent, you'd give him that.

You were getting the hang of his body language too. It was subtle but you'd begun to notice the slight shifts in his stance or the way his hands would twitch without a knife in them. At first you'd assumed it was just you projecting but you'd grown confident you could understand him now. Being sick definitely made him more expressive too.

Though, right now, you wanted to strangle him. "Michael, it's chicken noodle soup." You sighed, rubbing your temples. Trying to feed him was like dealing with a picky toddler sometimes. "It's chicken, noodles, carrots, and broth. All things I've fed you before." You could feel his glare at you and you were half tempted to get your own knife to speak his language better.

The infection was running its course, which was the only reason you had so much patience with him. His bitchiness was a byproduct of his fever and you had to keep reminding yourself that he probably hadn't been sick before.

That didn’t make you want to clobber him any less.

"If you eat the fucking soup I'll go buy you pumpkin pie when you feel better." You tried, glaring him down. "Because the sooner you eat this, the sooner you'll get better. And then you can go back to slaughtering the town."

He seemed placated by that. You turned your back to him so he could eat and you let out a silent sigh. You knew him well enough to know he liked that soup, he just wanted to be a jackass about it.

Later that afternoon you yet again threatened him with violence when he refused taking medicine. You weren't surprised he wasn't interested, seeing as he grew up in a hospital. But you were outgrowing your patience with him. You did smirk a little when you realized he absolutely wanted to throw you across the room for all but forcing the antibiotics down his throat. But once it was down, you softened. "C'mere, sleep will do you some good."

Michael glared at you but let you sit next to him against the headboard of the bed as he laid down. You'd learnt he was definitely a stomach sleeper and you could tell by his huffing that the heat underneath the mask was beginning to frustrate him. You jerked your head away when he ripped the mask off, throwing it with a growl and face planting onto the pillow.

"It's okay," you said softly, keeping your gaze straight ahead and fighting the urge to look down at him. "You don't feel as feverish today, you should be back on your feet in a day or two." You heard him grumble and you giggled. "Want me to rub your back? Might help you sleep."

He was silent. But he didn't immediately lash out so you kept your movements slow and purposeful. Like approaching an anxious, abused cat. He didn't know touch that wasn't associated with pain and you had to be careful to avoid startling him or overstepping. Your fingers made contact with his back and you slid your palm over his upper back, rubbing in slow, soothing motions.

Maybe it was exhaustion, the fever, or resignation to your touch but you swore you felt him relax.

Michael's skin was tacky to the touch and incredibly warm but that didn't deter you. You hummed a soft lullaby, keeping your movements slow and gentle. He looked painfully human and you were choking on the urge to care for this man. This strange, silent Boogeyman who'd fallen into your lap and sought you for care and food and attention and it made you want to cry.

If it weren't for his murderous hobby, you'd be infatuated with the sleeping man. The slow rise and fall of his chest made something in your own clench painfully as you continued to rub his back. You'd only known each other for a short time and yet you both had extended a lot of trust to each other. Most people met him with hostility or violence but you'd met him with kindness. A kindness he was unfamiliar with and must have been a welcome change. Either that or he just liked your cooking and bedside manner enough not to kill you. You weren't too picky about his motives.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't fond of him regardless.

The sound of the front door opening was like a bucket of ice down your back. You crept from the bed, carefully shutting the door behind you and heading downstairs, meeting your father's tired face. "You're back early."

"I'm only on my lunch break," he sighed as he shrugged his coat off, "Didn't feel like packing one so I figured I'd come check on you." He was giving you a strange look. "Are you okay?"

You watched him go into the kitchen as you loitered on the stairs, watching him through the awning closest to the steps. "Yeah, just been a little under the weather." You feigned a cough and sniffed. "Getting better though."

Your dad hummed as he opened the fridge. "Michael Myers killed a man at the store the other day." He reached in to pull out a sandwich you'd made for yourself at lunch and hadn't gotten around to eating. Trying to feed Michael was a laborious task.

"Really?" You raised your eyebrows, crossing your arms over your chest. "I didn't hear about it in the news."

He watched you with a painfully blank expression. "Correct me if I'm wrong but… I think you were out shopping before you fell ill, am I right?" Your dad took a slow bite of his sandwich, poorly trying to act casual. "The store clerk said a man was following you outside the store."

Fortunately, you were a better actor than your father. "I didn't see anyone."

But, of course, he didn't believe you. He never did. "Son, a man was killed by Michael Myers the day you went out and now you've been hiding away since then." His cop voice grated on your nerves. It felt like he never stopped being a cop, even with you. Every conversation with him felt like navigating a maze to try and hide yourself from him. You hated it.

"The weather has been getting colder and I work outside. It's really not that surprising."

"Have you seen Myers?" He got sick of beating around the bush, his hands on his hips as he leveled you with an unimpressed look. "Is that why you've been hiding out here?"

The word "hiding" made your hackles raise. Like this wasn't the same man who'd told you to lock the doors and windows when he first informed you of Michael. "Nope." Your smile was fake and bitter and you could see the way he flinched. "Hard to miss a man walking around in a Halloween costume." 

"Kid-" He tried to placate you.

But you weren't interested. "I'll be back to work in a day or so, don't worry."

He seemed remorseful now. "If Myers is stalking you, you can talk to me. You know that, right?"

An awkward silence hung in the air. Your dad seemed to deflate and he ate in silence, pretending to not see you. "Have you talked to Laurie Strode yet?" You asked as you picked at a stray string on your sweater sleeve.

He swallowed and shook his head. "We're hesitant to let her know what's going on until we're certain he's still after her. Dr Loomis has been working with us to try and find him as soon as we can." He scratched his chin in thought. "Maybe I should make a statement soon, what with Halloween approaching."

You gave him another acidic smile. "You'll find him, I'm sure. You're very dedicated."

Your dad gave you a helpless look. If you were five years younger, you might have apologized for being so curt with him. But you weren't sixteen and craving your father's approval anymore. You knew that the family charade you both put up was only because you helped around the house. He wasn't home enough to give a shit who lived there anyways.

He didn't even know the killer he was hunting was asleep in your bed, stitched up with your string and your soup in his stomach. You had no intention of telling him, partially out of spite at this point.

You hoped Michael got better soon.

Lucky for you - and unlucky for Haddonfield - Michael was back on his feet a day later. He was still a bit warm but you knew it was fruitless to try and keep him inside any longer. He had to make another appearance in town anyways or else he'd risk you both. If people paid too close to timelines, your sick leave corresponding with his disappearance would be too suspicious.

But his stitches came out easily and his wound had healed decently. "Next time, come back before your bandages get too dirty." You'd smirked at him as you zipped his jumpsuit up. It felt too close to a wife sending her husband off to work for the day and the thought made your face warm.

You managed to get a few days of relative peace, especially once your father was occupied by Michael killing again. It had also been a few days since you saw Michael and you hoped that was just because his bandages were holding up well. The last thing either of you needed was another sick week.

Currently you were heading home after spending the afternoon reading at the park. Your little bag bumped against your hip as you hopped along to the music coming out of your tinny headphones. It was unlikely Michael had been watching you, since you didn't feel his eyes on you, but you still felt like taking a break from the house for a minute.

The sight of a cop car parked haphazardly along the sidewalk made you freeze. It had hit the curb slightly and looked like the driver had been in a hurry to get out. The door was wide open and you lowered your headphones slowly, the frantic voice over the radio better. The voice was staticy and it sounded like whoever it was was running but their words were crystal clear. "All units respond. Multiple fatalities reported on Orange Grove Ave. Suspect has been identified as one Michael Myers. He is armed and extremely dangerous. Shoot to kill, I repeat, shoot to kill. Over."

You felt your stomach drop and your head whipped around. Orange Grove Ave was just ahead so you took off like a shotgun, sprinting down the street. The only sound was that of your shoes hitting the pavement as you tried to come up with a plan. If they hadn't seen him yet, you just needed to get an opening for him to escape. You knew of Michael's unnatural ability to vanish if your eyes weren't on him.

Desperately, you didn't want him to get shot again.

You rounded the corner onto Orange Grove with a sharp turn, your eyes immediately spotting a second cop car. "Fuck!" You hissed to yourself as you picked up the pace. You should have gone looking for Michael sooner. Should have left for the park earlier in hopes of catching his attention. Anything, anything to have avoided him getting caught.

When you got closer to the car, you noticed a cop hanging halfway out of the car. His head had been smashed in, a puddle of gore, blood, and brain matter leaking steadily down the side of the car door. You felt like throwing up but you held it in when you spotted his partner. A young man, likely fresh on the force, clutching his gun as he pointed it down the alleyway. His trembling told you all you needed to know.

The officer gave you a quick glance, fear obvious on his face. "Get back!" He called to you.

You ignored him and looked down the alleyway. Michael stood there calmly, hanging back in the shadows between the two buildings. Another cop lay before him and you watched with horror as Michael's boot made heavy contact with the cop's skull, a wet, sickening crunch echoing out in the small space.

"Get down and put your hands in the air!" The rookie said, hands on the gun shaking as he kept his eyes on Michael. An idea came to you. It was stupid, reckless, and dangerous.

You lunged for the cop, knocking his gun from his hands and sending him stumbling.

He didn't even have time to do anything but look at you with horrified eyes before Michael descended on him. He grabbed the rookie by his collar and lifted him effortlessly before running him through with his knife, spilling his guts on the sidewalk in warm waterfalls of blood. You scrambled backwards to avoid being caught in the spray but Michael gladly covered himself in the fresh gore. The rookie's lifeless body hit the floor with a heavy, empty sound and Michael turned his attention on you.

You scanned the nearby area and spotted a little path between two houses overrun with grass and brush. Without a second thought, you took off towards it and just hoped Michael was behind you. Other members of the force would be on their way and you both needed to disappear. You ignored the scratching of sharp branches against your arms and hands, only wincing when a particularly sharp one sliced a thin cut across your calf.

But you didn't falter. You kept running through the town, your heart pounding hard and pumping pure fumes through you as you ran. As soon as you broke into the treeline of the forest, you collapsed to your knees and let yourself catch your breath.

A hand gripped the back of your shirt and for a brief second you feared you'd been caught. But Michael dragged you towards a tree, pinning you to it and holding his bloody knife close under your throat, the blade digging into your skin. "Wait!" You struggled against his grip, kicking out at him with your heavy boots. "What did I do?! I got you out of there without getting shot!"

You could see his eyes this close. Hazel, like you'd suspected. His eyes were narrow with hate and anger as he glared you down. But you stopped struggling and that only seemed to make him madder. "I wasn't just going to let you get hurt!" You hissed, reaching up to grab the hand that held your collar tightly, keeping you rooted in place. "I don't see what you're so angry about."

He didn't like that answer. The knife pressed in and you gasped when you felt a stream of your own blood run down, wetting his fingers. "Stop," you pleaded, clawing at him frantically. "Stop, please, I'm sorry."

That wasn't good enough for him and held you tighter. Tears welled up in your eyes and fell, mixing with the blood. Pain shot through you when Michael yanked his knife away, taking a few steps back and letting you slide down the tree as you gasped for breath. Your hands gripped at your neck, slightly relieved it wasn't more than a surface cut. Blood started to stain your hands, falling in rivulets down your arm and leaking over your elbows only to stain the grass beneath you a muddy red color.

His head tilted as he watched and you wanted to spit at him. "Y'know, I kinda thought we had a partnership going on." Your words were choked as you glared up at him. "Was I wrong?"

That seemed to get to him. He straightened up and stared you down. You got up on shaking legs and stumbled away from him and towards the forest. His footsteps were loud as he followed behind you and that only served to make you angrier. The walk home was silent and he stayed a few feet behind you the whole time, never getting closer nor straying. The only sounds were the twigs crackling under your shoes and you were too rattled to feel or think much of anything. Your only goal was getting home.

You kicked the back door open and stormed inside and upstairs to the bathroom. You stared at yourself in the mirror and wanted to smack yourself for your infatuation with a killer who didn't care about you. The cut was, thankfully, small. And hopefully the amount on your arms could convince your dad you were just handling a blackberry bush at work or something. The one on your leg could be hidden under pants until it healed. So you began rooting around for bandages and ignored Michael standing in the doorway.

"I help you get away and you try to kill me?" You growled, glaring at him in the mirror. "I could have let that cop shoot you and I didn't because I fucking care, Michael." Tears threatened to fall again and you swallowed them back when he gave you a tilt of his head. "I get you aren't good with feelings and- and maybe this is just you needing me to clean and feed you but I wanted to help you." You dabbled your neck with a cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide and hissed at the sting. "If that's all you want me for then fine but I need to know where we stand."

He watched you bandage your neck, his shoulders set tight as he waited for you to finish. He set the knife down on the counter and reached for you but you flinched back. "Wash your hands." You mumbled and stepped back more to give him access to the sink.

The water ran for some time as the two of you watched the blood swirl down the drain and out of sight. Once the water ran clear, he pulled his hands out and reached for you again. You wanted to run but were backed up into a corner with no way out.

He covered your eyes with one and you frowned in confusion. "What are you-?" He took your wrist with his free hand and held it to his face again, silencing you. His face felt wet and that concerned you. "Are you bleeding somewhere?" You tried feeling around for any cuts but he shook his head no. "Was it raining?" Another no.

So an idea came to you. A dangerous one if you were wrong. "Were you… crying?"

He nodded. Your heart broke.

You pulled him in for a hug, keeping your eyes closed as you just held him. He dropped the hand from your eyes to hold your hip, leaning into your touch like he did when he was ill a few weeks ago. "What happened?" You tried, holding his face with both hands.

Michael just shook his head helplessly and bumped your foreheads together. Oh. Oh. "Were you… worried I was turning you in?" No. "Was it because I was there while you were, uh, hunting?" No. You chewed on your lip as another dangerous thought came to you. "You were worried I was going to get hurt."

His jaw clenched as his throat worked around a growl. The Boogeyman of Haddonfield couldn't afford to feel anything. He doesn't. As far as anyone is concerned at least. Yet here you were, defying all odds and earning Michael's favor. His protection. His care. And the idea of losing you had terrified him, causing him to lash out at you for willingly putting yourself in danger. Emotions had run high and he'd acted out. He hadn't known what else to do but scare you back. 

"I'm sorry I worried you," you said softly, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks and wiping the moisture away as you kept your eyes closed. "I was worried about you too. I heard the police radio mention shooting you on sight so I went looking for you." His grip on you tightened slightly and you sighed. "I know that you're used to people shooting at you or- or attacking you. But I'm not used to hearing about it."

You finally admitted to yourself and him: "I don't want you to die."

After a moment of silence, he pressed your foreheads together. You felt his breath ghost over your skin and your noses bumped together awkwardly. You hooked a hand behind his neck to just hold him and he squeezed your hips tight. "I don't want you to die," you gasped into your shared air. He made a muffled sound and this felt so much more intimate than any kind of kissing you'd done in the past. You just stood there in each other's spaces, sharing air and warmth and closeness that you hadn't had with someone else in a long time. You couldn't imagine how it felt for him.

"We're in this together now, okay?" You said softly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his. Pretty, you thought absently. But you already knew that. Brown ringlet curls, one eye injured from his fight with Laurie Strode, and a light dusting of freckles across his nose. His face looked damp and you brushed under his eyes with the hem of your sleeve. Despite that, his face was expressionless even though you could see conflict swirling in his eyes. You couldn't imagine how he was feeling. "We'll look out for each other, yeah?"

He gave you a slow nod and you smiled. Your foreheads pressed together again and you felt his shoulders relax as his eyes closed. Trust. You both trusted each other and were partners in this now. You accepted you'd be complacent in his crimes going forward and he'd learn to accept your care in time.

Just you and your Boogeyman against the world...

[james-is-here]

hi!!! i absolutely love your writing it's so good! please keep up the good work, i also never really see any kpop boy pussies so i'm hoping you will do this request.

i have a request, what about cock obsessed lee know who can't stand not having reader's cock not pounding his pussy. he gets so needy constantly begging and touching you very different from how he normally acts. so reader in return teases him back and it ends with lee know getting the best fucking of his life. thank you!! 

-🐰🔪

Oooh boy, thank you, after I wrote the other Minho fic, I've been motivated to write more and I am slowly but surely becoming obsessed with whiney, subby Min 🫠Also, the boys have like all the brands I know (except Han's) and I didn't want to repeat so your brand in BrandRacha is Prada :P

Also, let me know if I misinterpreted your request and I can rewrite it, I don't know why but I feel like I did by accident. There's still BoyPuss Min, just not sure if I fulfilled it to your liking.

Blogs: @belladonna6-6-6 @heartbinn @succubus-hansol @leezanetheofficial @yongbokkk @michelle4eve @dontwannaexsist (Imk if I forgot you or you want to be added.

Tags: Min is called good girl so some feminization, desperate Min, implied color system, lots of edging, Min is called princess, good boy, kitten, other members are mentioned, Minnie gets emotional and drops, brief mention of a cervix. lmk if I forgot anything.

When you have free time, it's not just your free time it's yours and Minho's free time and during this free time he flips from his usual self so fast you get whiplash and you're completely thrown off every time.

He's seemingly annoyed that you and Chan hug him but that night he's a complete 180, begging for you to hold him close and let him ride your thigh.

Absolutely killing the stage and being his usual annoyed but loving self and after he's dragging you to an empty room, shoving himself against the door and pulling you in for a kiss while pulling your hand to his crotch and grinding the best he could in his stage pants.

You're wrapping your arms around him from behind on camera or on stage and he's standing there almost begrudgingly but really he's throbbing in his pants and soaking his underwear and when alone his hands are all over you trying to pull you close.

Don't get me wrong, you love how obsessed Minho was with you. You both have equal libido and stamina and it amuses you whenever you see the needy look his eyes. It's just...oof, well, a lot. He does relax but if you had to think, he has you inside him more often then not having you inside him.

Yes, the boys know about you, unfortunately Minho's neediness can be relentless and he said himself before a movie night with the others "I'll behave, please just let me cockwarm" and next thing you knew, Minho was squirming in your lap and Chan scolded both of you before kicking you both from movie night and to your room.

Now, you've been gone for a week for a Prada event and it was really fun to do something on your own from your group but ~someone~ called you at every opportunity the first day you arrived at the location the event was at that you had to send them your schedule so they didn't interrupt anything.

When you arrived at the dorms from the airport, it seemed that no one was home. It was late but most of them usually stay up late. Walking down the hall, you knock lightly on Chan's door before opening it. "Mn!" He looks up from his laptop, taking off his headset and getting up to meet you at the door to pull you into a tight hug, a smile growing on your face as he squeals softly and rocks you back and forth. "Hi Hyung!" Your arms wrap around his shoulders as you return the hug.

He then starts to jokingly cry and pull back, holding your shoulders at arms length. "I have all my kids back!" You let a snort out as he pulled you back into his arms. "Oh, I hope you're never gone that long again." "Hyung, You're sounding like an obsessed boyfriend." "No, I'm your desperate hyung, go take care of your boyfriend please."

You laugh as he all but begs you, turning you around and pushing you towards Minho's room. "I'm so jet lagged though, can I wait until tomorrow when I'm more awake?" "No, now, please, go." You shake your head and lightly kick your bag to roll over to your door before smiling at Chan. "Not a very good welcome home, you're all settled for the night." "I think Hyunjin is still awake painting." You turn in the opposite direction to go say hi to the dancer. "Jinnie." You cheer softly but Chan grabs your wrist. "Hyung..." You pout and he pushes you back over to Minho's room. "Boyfriend first, Jinnie later." Groaning you playfully shove him before going to your boyfriend.

You open his door, not even deciding to knock, and find your boyfriend in your hoodie and his sweats, laying in his stomach with one leg extended and the other thrown over his mangled blankets. He's hugging his pillow but looking again, the pillow case doesn't match his and you realize it's your pillow.

There's enough room next to him on his left so you gently crash next to him, throwing an arm over his back and pulling him, causing him to roll onto his side and into your chest. His hand falls open and something slides out, picking it up, it's a remote. You chuckle before placing it to the side and reaching down, placing your hand on his abdomen.

Tugging his hoodie, you slip your hand underneath, his skin warm under your cold hands and he whines in his sleep. Moving down, you slip into his sweats and you were honestly expecting his boxer shorts but instead you felt lace. Tracing the delicate details, you follow them until his hip, gently taking the band between your fingers then sliding further down until your fingers are near his core. "Min~" You groan quietly and remove your hand, pulling him closer until his ass is pushed into you.

Reaching up, you grab the remote, wrapping your arms around him before pressing the button for the second setting. His body jolts and pushes back into you as he gasps, breathing heavily. You can faintly see purple in the dark room of the remote and you smile softly when you process what toy is nestled inside him, the only one he has access to, not too long but not to short and no stimulation to his clit. It was the worse one to be left with but hey, you love torturing him.

Moving the remote to the other hand, you reach back into his sweats, dragging your fingertips over the lace of his underwear then grab his thigh, carefully lifting his leg and shifting onto your back slightly so he's laying back on you.

Your hand cups his heat, causing him to choke out a gasp as his chest heaves faster and his hips start to squirm. Raising the speed, your fingers find his clit through the fabric, making tight, quick circles that pull quiet moans out of him as he parts his lips and leans his head back on your shoulder.

"Minnie~" You murmur quietly, moving the fabric to the side and touching him directly. He is soaking wet, dripping around the toy and all over your fingers. "Minnie, Princess~" His breathing picks up, chest rising and falling rapidly and as his hips squirm and push back into you and your hand. You draw a few more rapid circles before withdrawing from him completely and turning off the toy.

He lets out a choked sob, hips still moving wildly as he tries to chase his high before eventually settling down with a whine and turning his head towards you, opening his eyes and blinking away his tiredness. "Hyung..." He pouts and you kiss it away. "Hi Princess." "Please~" "How about...no."

You turn the toy on again, resting your hand above his core and holding him against you. "How about I finally get back at you being a slutty brat, huh?" "I-I'm not a brat." "Mmm, but you are, Princess, don't lie." "M'Not, fuck~" You add your fingers back into the mix, playing with his clit. "Did you really think I wouldn't get back at you for being rude to the boys?" "I-I wasn't...I'm not-" "We just want to love you, Minnie, why you gotta hate us?" He whines and shakes his head. "N-No, that's not..."

You turn off the toy again and remove your hands from him. "No, Hyung, please stop." "You want me to stop? I'll stop if that's what you want." You move slightly, making it look like you're gonna leave the bed before he turns towards you, eyes brimming with tears as he grabs your wrist. "Don't go, please, please just fill me up please, I want your cock so bad, please." "I don't know if you deserve it, Minho. You should appreciate our love."

He gasps, sitting up and pushing you onto your back before straddling your thighs. "I-I do, I really do. I swear I appreciate all of you, I love all of you." "I don't know, Min." Your left hand, extended out on the other side of the bed, you click the second setting and he squeals with a gasp, hip jolting on your thighs before you place your hands on his hip to hold him still as his upper half falls forward and his hands prop himself up on your stomach.

His moans are breathy gasps as he tries to move his hips. "How about four more?" "Four?!" Tears fall down his cheeks as his fingers tighten around your shirt and his nails dig into your skin, not painful thanks to the shirt barrier but a light sting. "No...No, please, I'm sorry. I-I do a-appreciate you all, I d-do show it, I-I'm not a liar, Hyung, please..."

You know he does, he's not that cruel but it amuses you how he teases the boys and shows distain for their affection but then 180s with you and always tries to get your cock in him.

"Four more, for the last four boys." "No, please, I'm sorry." He cries and leans down until his face is hidden in your neck, tears falling onto your skin. "This is how you'll make up for it, yeah?" "No, please...M'sorry, Hyung, please..." "I said four didn't I? You don't know what I'll do for you to make it up to me." He doesn't have to make it up to you, you know the truth, but again, you love torturing him.

"Four more times then I'll tell you what I want." He whines when you finally shut the toy off, hip shaking in your hold. "Three, my bad. Or I could start over and you could do seven and tell me what each member means to you while trying not to cum." "No! Fuck, please, I-I can't take it."

Okay, you weren't that cruel...maybe another time.

"Four more, kitten." Turning it to the fourth level this time, he jolts, slowly trying to slide his hips further up to meet your crotch but you kept him in place. He harshly tugs at your shirt with a whine. "Off, please, off." "Don't move. You move, we start back at three." He nods, his hands moving to your waistband as you sit up slightly and remove your shirt. You could barely drop it to the floor when he pushes you back by your shoulders and his hands are rubbing your chest, his nails are scratching lightly against your toned stomach, their moving to hold your waist, they're everywhere.

"Stop." "What?" He whines and brings your hands back to his hips. "I-I'm gonna cum, stop." You smile gently and stop the vibrator. "Aw, thanks for telling me, such a good girl taking her punishment." You praise, lifting a hand to cradle his face and he leans into it, your thumb wiping away his tears and you pull him down, attaching you lips to his firmly and finally kissing him since you've returned home.

His hands cradle your face, kissing back just as hard before pulling back and moving to the crook of your neck again. "T-Two more...Please." "Being such a good girl, Minnie." Before turning it back on, you tug his waistband. "Take these off, Kitten." He gets off you, quickly taking the clothing off and tossing them away before getting back on your lap. He was wearing a pair of black lace panties you bought for him. "So pretty." You murmur softly, placing your hands on his waist before turning the toy on again.

You grip his waist slightly, pulling him down to sit on your thighs properly then sliding your hand down so your thumb is just above where his clit is. His stomach twist and he whines, his heat throbbing painfully and he wishes you would just move your thumb just an inch to relieve some of the pain but he knows it's wishful thinking, you know his body, know that if you did, he'd cum instantly. You're teasing him, driving him crazy and he tries to think of anything but your thumb near where he needs to be touched.

You bumped it to four and his hips jolt forward, your thumb nudging his clit slightly and he barely gets out his words. "Shit- S-Stop, stop." You turn it off and Minho shakes above you. "Fuck, it's hurts. Hyung please." "You can do one more, Kitten. I know you can." "I-It's too much, I- I can't-" His hips squirm subconsciously and you move your hand away slightly. "I know you can, it's okay."

He drops his head, his left hand holding himself up on your stomach and his right on the bed. "Min?" He hums, sniffing softly. "Min, color." "Green...i-it's green, m'sorry." "No, No, it's okay. Can you take one more?" "Yeah, I can...I can." "You sure?" "Yeah. S'punishment." "But if you can't take it, we stop." "I-I want to." His fingertips lightly graze over your abdomen. "Can..." "Can what darling?" "C-Can I touch you?" His fingers curl into your waist band and a soft smile graces your lips. "Yeah, you've been such a good boy, you could've touched me a while ago."

He tugs down your waistbands down just enough to wrap his hand around your length and pull it out from its confinement. "One more, hyung." "Okay." You turn it on one more time, pulling a whine from him as his hands are placed on your pelvis around your length. His head tilts back slightly before rolling back down and taking you into his hand.

He strokes you lazily but just enough to send sparks up your spine, making you groan. Minho whines softly, his hips stuttering with trying not to move and your heart melts. "Ride my thigh, baby." He shakes his head, picking it up and looking up at you. "N-No, one more, I-I can do it." "Min, it's okay." "S-Stop it, Stop the-" His legs shake as he gets closer and closer but you don't stop the vibrator and he takes it from your hand and turns it off, hips jolting forward as he settles from his last denied orgasm.

"Min, I was letting you cum. You didn't have to follow the punishment anymore." "B-But I-I'm a b-brat a-and I-I don't show that I a-appreciate the others..." "Oh, Min..."

Sitting up, you pull him into your arms and turn around, laying him on his back before his hands are on your chest as you pull your sweats back up. "Wait, Hyung-" "No, Min, what color?" "Green, Hyung, please. I-I have to-" "Truth, Min, What color?" You say firmly. "Hyung..." "Minho." You push, using his name and he stops and covers his face.

He's silent for a couple seconds before his body shakes and a choked cry gets caught in his throat. "Minnie..." "I-I d-do....I do apprec-iate a-all of you...I-I l-ove a-all o-of y-you, 'm s-sorry I-I d-don't sh-show it..." He gets out through his sobs. "Y-Yellow, 'M s-sorry, H-Hyung, 'm so s-sorry." You mentally slap yourself and lay down next to him, pulling him into your arms and hugging him close and tight. "No, Minnie, I'm sorry. I know you love them, I know you care about them, I should be the one apologizing, baby, I'm so sorry." You bury your face into his neck and hold him close both for your sake and his.

You feel so bad for causing his drop, of course you know that his coldness is just an act, you were just meaning to tease him. "Hyung is sorry, Minnie. I'm so so sorry." You kiss his cheek and lean back to look down at him, cupping his face with one hand and wiping his tears away. "I'm sorry for going to far." He sniffs, taking shaky deep breaths before leaning his forehead on yours. "Minnie?" "Hyung?" "You back with me?" "Y-Yeah." "You know when you dropped?" "L-Last I-I remember...w-was asking t-to touch you..." You sigh, bringing him back into your arms and tucking him under your chin.

"C'mon, let me clean you up." "W-Wait, but..." "Min, you just dropped, darling, I don't think it's best to keep going." "I-I said yellow...not red...I-I still r-really what your cock in me...this toy is dumb..." "Min..." "Please?" "Only if you promise that when we're done, I coddle you and give you the softest of aftercare and not just laying in bed after." "It's the middle of the night..." "Okay, fine, I'll just use a rag but let me make it up to you tomorrow?" "Sure."

You kiss him softly, like he was glass, before pulling back. "I really didn't have any way for you to make it up to me, I was just gonna fuck you and make you cum so it was more of a reward for you." "Is it still a reward?" "Of course but, now, you choose the position." "Any that let me look at and hold you." You laugh and gently pull him back onto your lap.

Carefully, you move the fabric covering him out of the way and slowly pull the toy out of him. "Shit." He pushes out with a heavy breath as you gently squeeze his hip. "Fuck...s'empty..." "Hold on, won't be for long." You set it aside and hold his other hip as he pulls down your waistband out of the way for you and pulls out your cock. Dragging him forward slightly, he wraps his arm around your neck as he lines you up with his entrance before sinking down. "Ah~ Fuck." His head drops down as his hand moves up a bit and he hovers over his clit. "Touch yourself, Kitten, go ahead."

His fingers instantly circle the bundle of nerves and his head falls onto your shoulder, his thighs moving automatically to ride you and you wrap your arms around his back to take control, thrusting up into him causing wet sounds to occur every time you thrust in and out of his soaked cunt.

"Fuck~ Right there." You thrust into that spot inside him quickly and you draw continuous moans out of him with every hit with your tip. "Move you fingers faster, baby." His fingers rub faster, drawing him closer to his continuously lost high.

"Open." He lifts his head and parts his lips, letting you put your thumb into his mouth and he closes around the digit. His tongue swirls around your thumb before you remove it and bring it down, glancing down to move his hand out of the way before looking back up at him and replace his fingers with your thumb. "Oh fuck~" His legs move again and bounce inconsistently, meeting your hips every couple bounces.

Your thrusts pick up speed along with your thumb and you throw your head back, groaning as your own high approached, then look back at him. "Fuck, Hyung, m'gonna cum, shit~ Ah~" He moans softly, his hips bucking forward and your thumb becomes firm against his clit. "Me too, Minnie. Go ahead, Kitten, you took my teasing so well, such a good boy, let go baby." Your thrusts go impossibly faster, at least to Minho, and he clenches around your length so tight you unexpectedly stop with a stutter, your thumb keeping its momentum as your sunk deep inside him.

"Fuck, Fu- Hyung, don't stop, don't- Ah Shit!" His moan drags from the back of his throat, morphing into a soft squeal as his walls flutter around you and he tightens around you even tighter, his hand flying to your wrist as he rocks his hips into your hand. "Fuck, Min." His tightness, the slickness, and his absolutely lewd sounds cause you to cum deep inside him shortly after, thrusting so shallowly and deeply it's as if he could feel you fuck your cum into his cervix.

"F-Fuck...s'deep, Ah~" His hips rock against yours before he's pulling your hand away and his thighs shake. He pushes your shoulders to push you back slightly before falling onto your chest and your slip out of him. You hiss and he moans, leaning his forehead on your peck as his muscle contract and he's too weak to stop your cum from dripping out of him. "Shit." He mutters quietly and grabs the toy from before and slowly inserts it into him as a temporary plug despite the multiple drips already staining your sweats.

Laying back on your chest, he wraps his arms around you. "Can we just stay here?" "We're all yucky though." "So? That's never stopped us from cleaning up later." You sigh, both having no energy and your jet lag catching up to you. "I'm only agreeing..." You struggle but manage to kick your sweats off then cover the both of you up. "...because I think my jet lag is catching up to me and I'm tired." "Good, sleep now."

He kisses your chest where he lays and you kiss the top of his head, closing your eyes and promptly passing out.

[skilledmeowjesty]

Pairing: Xavier x afab MC

Genre: Smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 2,420

Tags: slight exhibitionism, oral (MC receiving), unprotected

Content: this is basically a rewrite of the date Fluffy Trap options/outcome, so while it's not required to have that card, this would make more sense if you have

AN: while I've been writing fanfic for over a decade, this is my first attempt at writing an X Reader fic, and it's my first fic not in past tense, so apologies ahead of time if there's issues

"Your final gift is right here"

Azul eyes bore into yours, and for a split second, you freeze, words caught in your throat

This wasn't going as planned

The original plan was simple, just payback for dozens of pranks you had endured at his hands, getting an embarrassing photo as revenge for what he'd been putting you through the past few weeks

Not this

“Is it you, Mr. Bunny Butler?” You ask in retort, slight tease in your tone, even as your heart pounded away so hard you were sure he could hear it

He sat there, leaning back on his arms, watching you intently, his entire focus on you alone

He looked ridiculous and admittedly cute in his bunny butler costume, the bunny headband giving him an innocent charm, looking harmless, but you knew better, not about to fall for the false sense of security, he was a wolf in a bunny disguise, the intensity of his ocean eyes making goosebumps cover your skin

“Will you unwrap your present if I say yes?” He asks then in reply, and once again, your thoughts come to a complete halt

This wasn't going as planned

You lean forward from your place next to him, your hand coming out, giving his tie a soft tap, which Xaiver reacts by pulling back, his hand gently pushing yours away

“What do you want?” he asks this time, the telltale sign of his blush flushing his cheeks, his ears turning deep crimson as his eyes dart down to your bottom lip that you bit gently out of nerves

You blink, trying to think of a quick comeback, something that would fluster him, embarrass him, a proper payback for messing with you for as long as he had been

But, it was hard, the intensity of his gaze, the outfit he wore, the entire air he gave off making your thoughts run ramped, but not able to focus on anything outside of just how handsome he looked, unable to think of anything besides the pull you felt by his very presence in that moment

This wasn't going as planned

‘Call me Master', ‘Sing a song', both of these replies came to mind, but neither are actually said, a single word response tumbles from your lips

“You”

In the blink of an eye, Xavier moves, sitting up, his fingers weaving through your hair as his hand cups the back of your head, his mouth on yours instantly

You let out a startled moan, which he swallows, his body pushing yours back, lying you down on your back, hovering over you, his free arm supporting his weight as his tongue brushed over your lips

This wasn't going as planned

Desperately, you find your fingers clutching into the ends of his butler's vest, tight, holding onto his clothing as if your life depended on it, opening his mouth to him at his silent yet demanding request

Xavier wastes no time, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand moving from the back of your head to your thigh, pulling to encourage you to wrap your leg around him

This wasn't going as planned

You do as he asks, both your legs snaking around his waist as he shifts to lie directly over you, and you pull away from his intoxicating kiss to gasp when his hips roll down onto yours in the new position, causing Xavier to shift his mouth to your neck, his teeth gently grazing over your skin as he breathes his next words out

“Is this really what you want?” he asks, his tone already husky, dripping with arousal, and the desire in his voice makes your breath catch in your throat, your heart pounding harshly in your chest as his hand moves further up your thigh, forward towards your top, his glove covered fingers stopping just before entering the whim of your shirt

You knew he was asking permission to go further, even as forward as he was being, he still seemed to want to respect whatever line you decided to draw between you two, but at that very moment, there was no line, and you didn't want him to stop, to hold back at all

This wasn't going as planned

Instead of replying with words, your hands release their death grip on his vest to slowly begin unbuttoning it, and Xavier took at as a ‘yes’

Once again, he rolled his hips down against your own, and you could feel the bulge of his growing arousal press against the dampness of your own, another breathy gasp escaping you

This was so different than what you imagined. Of course you thought about it before, having held a silent flame for him for quite some time, you had imagined countless times what your first kiss might be like, what his body would feel like pressed against your own, but nothing could have prepared you to the reality of it, his hot breath against your skin, the skill of his fingers as they explored under your shirt, the bulk of his frame and how strong his body felt when pressed so prominently against your own, it's stole your very breath away

This wasn't going as planned, but, you didn't really mind

When his hands finally made it up to your bra from under your shirt, he pushed the offending fabric up, the cool of the leather covering his fingers as they pinched lightly on your nipples seemed to heighten the sensation, all while his lips danced against your neck with a mix of kisses and soft bites, knowing you'd have marks on your skin when this was all over, and that thought made you unconsciously clench, your body suddenly feeling empty, void, wanting him inside you already

The fact you two were still on the floor of the photo studio didn't even cross your mind, your thoughts completely filled with Xavier alone, hyper focused on the outline of his bulge as he continuously ground down against you, able to feel some of his size through the fabric of his trousers, but it still wasn't enough

Your fingers finally unbuttoned both his vest and his shirt, and so your hands move to explore the expands of his muscular chest, roaming over his frame before your fingers moved to the waistband of his pants, all while Xavier kept up his own assault on your breasts and neck

When you started to fumble with his belt, he pulled back entirely, impatience getting the better of him, he couldn't seem to wait any longer, yanking off his top before moving to remove his belt, looking down at you with an expression you've never seen on him before

The normally laidback and tired Xavier had a fire in his eyes, with determination you'd never seen outside of an intense battle, his breathing labored as he finally finished unbuttoning his pants

You could see the way his blush flushed over his torso, his hands moving then to grip the waistband of your pants, and he pulled them down in one single swoop, practically tearing the clothing off of you, leaving you in only your underwear

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, your shirt and bra already pushed up by him previously, leaving your breasts exposed as your greedy lungs tried to gulp in as much air as possible, but it wasn't enough

You weren't sure that in that moment, any amount would be enough

Without a single word, he bent down again, his lips finding their home in between your breasts, a trail of kisses moving down, over your navel, to your hips, lower and lower until his face was rested comfortably between your thighs

When his lips pressed against your cloth covered folds, you gasped, before moving to bite the back of your hand to avoid making too much noise

But being quiet was impossible, especially when he moved the fabric of your panties to the side to lap at your dripping arousal directly, his skilled tongue exploring and moving with purpose, causing your hips to shake almost uncontrollably, his name gasped out, half muffled against your hand as your tried your hardest to keep quiet but to no avail

This was definitely unexpected, his mouth moving with precision, and you could feel yourself being pushed closer and closer to your own undoing, his tongue flicking over your clit before moving to dip in and out of you in a way that left you seeing stars, it was as if he knew your body already, knew what would make you weak and leave you panting even though it was the first time you two did anything remotely similar

Darker thoughts creeped in then, his expertise in making your hips shake so violently for him so quickly giving you the sneaking suspicion he'd had way more experience than most, and while it wasn't your first experience yourself, you couldn't push down the burning jealousy that came with the thought

That was quickly forgotten, though, when he introduced his fingers, and you felt him insert two into you to match the movement of his tongue, feeling his bare skin as he had removed his gloves burned, and you quickly lost all thought

You threw your head back, your hand leaving your mouth to weave into his hair, your hips canting and rolling into his mouth, his name repeatedly leaving your lips like a mantra as you felt your undoing inching closer and closer

“I'm-” you give voice to warning, but Xavier only replies by redoubling his efforts, the tightly coiled string snapping as you ride out the intensity of your orgasm, his tongue not relenting in its movements

Gasping, desperately you tug at his hair, your next words groaned out as you look down at him

“W-Wait!” You moan, and he finally pulls back, meeting your gaze with that same fire, and you felt your heart skip a beat

He waits for you patiently, his hand wiping your arousal off his lips, and you find it suddenly difficult to think, let alone speak

“I-” you pause, trying desperately to catch your breath, your chest still heaving, your blood rushing intently through your veins from your orgasm, your skin burning as if caught aflame

“I want you” you finally manage to get out, and Xavier gives a single nod, pushing his pants and boxers down entirely to free his length before his hands found your hips

Your mouth went dry as you look at him, sitting back on his knees, shirtless, flushed, his cock standing tall, proud, the thickness and length much more than you could have imagined, the size you felt while it was clothed behind his pants was nothing in comparison to the reality

“Understood” he just says, before pulling you towards him, and pushing his way into your body in one thrust

You gasp at the feeling of him filling you entirely, his length filling every inch of you in a way that left you seeing stars, the angle perfectly hitting your g-spot, and you once against lost your breath

He doesn't move at first, just leaning over you, his hands still holding tightly onto your hips, his mouth coming closer to your own as he breathes out his next words against your lips

“Hold onto me” he instructs, and you immediately circle your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead to his as finally, he starts to thrust

“Ah!” You immediately yell, louder than intended, and his mouth crashes into yours to silence you, once again swallowing your moans as he picks up pace, and you try your hardest to keep your voice down, but it was proving to be incredibly difficult when each thrust was angled just right it was all but impossible to hold back your gasps

You were reminded, once again, that regardless of how laidback Xavier was, he was incredibly fit, incredibly strong, and in that moment, he seemed to be using all of his power to leave you a puddle of lust and want under him, his thrusts pushing into you with such precision, such force, that you could feel your second orgasm building almost instantly

Your hands move to his back, fingernails digging into his skin, unable to hold back, and he groans against your mouth at the sting

He pulls back enough to rest his forehead to yours, and you find yourself biting down hard on your bottom lip, trying to keep quiet, not not yell his name out when it was the only thing you could think of doing, your thoughts completely filled by him and him alone

“You don't know how long I've waited for this” he breathes, his eyes boring into yours. You feel yourself clench around him subconsciously at the fact he felt the same, that you had both imagined each other's kiss, touch, bodies

“So tight” he groans under his breath, wincing

His hands tightening their hold on your hips as he increases his pace, continuing, “-for you. How many lifetimes I've waited…” the emotions in his eyes shifting to that of longing as he brushes his lips to yours, his tone vulnerable

“X-Xavier..?” You ask in a gasp, trying to speak but it was impossible, not when he continued to pound into you, filling every inch, taking over every sense, and you could feel your second orgasm inches away, your nails continuing their path down his back

Reading your body perfectly, and knowing you were so close to coming undone, Xavier moves his lips to the cuff of your ear, breathing his next words in a hot whisper

“I've loved you for centuries” he confesses, and it send you over the edge, your climax crashing over you hard, so much more intense than your first, your legs wrapping around and holding him to you in a death grip

Your heart pounded so loudly in your ears, it was hard to focus on anything in that moment, vaguely able to make out Xavier moaning your name, barely registering how tightly he held your hips in a way that was sure to leave bruises as he continued to thrust into you as he barreled towards his own end, only focusing on the feeling him of releasing inside of you

Chest heaving, you were left speechless, but he didn't speak either, just giving a soft smile, before gently kissing your forehead

This didn't go as planned, and you couldn't be happier that it didn't

______________

Lemme know y'all's thoughts 👀

[esyra]

These days, I have long debated what to write regarding Palestine-Israel, and questioned why I should write anything at all. The idea that celebrities and the loudest chronically online people you've ever met, blessed in their ignorance and indifferent to livehoods different than theirs, feel the need to opinate on social and geopolitical issues is absolutely insane. Most of the time, they do more harm than good—spreading misinformation like wildfire. Such opinions are what convinced me to ultimately talk about it.

Rest assured I'm not particularly qualified to talk about any of this, then again no one seems (or tries) to be. This is not a statement, simply questions about selected nuance. Full disclosure: I am of Palestinian descent. And I tried my hardest to be all-encompassing and empathetic; if I fail at any moment, my sincerest apologies.

All around social media I've seen only two kinds of posts regarding Palestine and Israel; they're either completely favorable to Israel and dehumanize Palestine or they treat Palestines as a footnote, in which it's made to assure its author doesn't endorse murder but also to point out that Palestine "deserve what's coming." There's a certain nuance required to support Palestine that's not asked when supporting Israel.

I've seen Jamie Lee Curtis reposting a picture of Palestinian children watching Israelis air strikes as if they were of Israeli children. There's no doubt it was a malicious-intended post considering she credited the photographer while deleting the original caption which explicitly explained who the ones pictured were. After being severely corrected in the comments, she simply deleted and made no mention of it. Guess children don't matter if they're Palestinian. I've seen way too many celebrities responding to the conflict with worries about how they might be affected by it, as self-centered and selfish as you can imagine.

I've seen a journalist claim that 40 Israeli babies were beheaded and multiple newspapers (many of them British, because what else can you expect from them?) and public figures reposting as a fact, only for the same journalist to later claim she actually "never said that" (she absolutely did). Also the IDF explaining they have no information confirming the allegations that 'Hamas beheaded babies'. I've seen people using statements from Sabra and Shatila massacre survivors and trying to rewrite Palestine, which were the victims of said crime, as the perpetrators. I've seen people using videos of Russian attacks as Palestinian ones. I've seen a British journalist fabricating a harmful statement from a Palestinian Ambassador to help dehumanize Palestine, and being proud of such. I've seen BBC using the nuances of language to their liking, reporting how Israelis were 'killed' while Palestinians 'died'. Always heard journalists avoid adjectives in favor of being unbiased. Again, guess that's unimportant when it comes to Palestine. Most of all, I've seen people equate supporting Palestine to anti-semitism.

If that belief steams that Palestine and Hamas are one-and-the-same, and the latter is a anti-semitism organization, then that's another concern I'd like to add the recently appraised 'nuance'.

Hamas first appeared during the first intifada, a Palestinian uprising against Israeli occupation of the West Bank, Gaza, and East Jerusalem. The signing of the Oslo Accords in 1993 marked the end of the uprising—an agreement between Israel and Palestine meant to lay the groundwork for the formation of a Palestinian state alongside Israel. Instead, it has erased Palestine's recognition as a State. In its history, Hamas have equate the liberation of Palestinians with the destruction of Israel, likely the reason they're a highly divisive organization that has often been at oddens with more mainstream Palestinian politicians. However, Hamas backtracked on its aims in a 2017 proclamation, making it clear that what it wants is to end a “racist, anti-human and colonial Zionist project.” In its 16th topic, they state "Hamas affirms that its conflict is with the Zionist project not with the Jews because of their religion. Hamas does not wage a struggle against the Jews because they are Jewish but wages a struggle against the Zionists who occupy Palestine."

The description of the Israeli occupation as fascist most likely comes from the similarities of Palestine to an "open air prison". They have no control of their own borders (IDF controls who and what enters or leaves) and are deemed stateless. "In defiance of international law, Israel considers all Palestinians inhabitants of the occupied Palestinian territory as non-citizens and foreign residents." Meaning if they leave their territory, they won't be allowed back in. Their rights in the Arab World are uncertain, particularly in Lebanon and Egypt where they are denied rights to secure residency, employment, property, communal interaction and family unification. Procedures to allow non-residents to apply for naturalisation in Lebanon, Egypt and Saudi Arabia do not apply to stateless Palestinians. So while those asking for Palestinians to be evacuated for their safety certainly have noble intentions, I ask of you: where they will go? Can you imagine walking away from home knowing you're heading into nothing? What's the difference between living in the rumbles of their homes and being homeless in another country?

The ones who decide to stay (and the ones unable to leave) are likely not making it for much longer. According to the United Nations, roughly 6,400 Palestinians and 300 Israelis have been killed in the ongoing conflict since 2008, not counting the recent fatalities. Is it truly a war if one side is so overpowering in its resources and retaliations? I feel the need to point out these stats to question why the notion that "violence is never the answer" is only used now. When it has been the only response until now.

Then again, Hamas remains a polarizing force in Palestinian society. They're an organization that's slaughtering families and less than a third of Palestinians think the group deserves to represent them. There has not been an opportunity, however, for elections to change their representatives. Palestinians living in Gaza must endure an unstable political reality with an unrepresentative government implementing repressive policies against LGBTQ people and abusive policies against detainees. Israel's Prime Minister Netanyahu purposefully propped up Hamas and there has been speculation that Iran has supported them. I've seen many post as if it's a fact, so I'd like to reinforce that it's speculation. In essence, Hamas is a terrorist group with questionable history and even more questionable allies. None of which has the Palestine's best interests at heart.

This has been overly long, and I still haven't touched on all topics I wished to address. Some I probably couldn't express properly since it's such a complex geopolitical issue. Then again, no one seems to try while all seem very comfortable in being as biased as they wish to be. So I thought I add my compassionate two cents in favor of Palestine and all the years of oppresion they've endured. I still hope you'll read this to the end, and extended to Palestine the same sympathetic hand you've rightfully extended to Israeli citizens.

My heart aches for the innocent people murdered, Palestinian and Israeli. Settlers aren’t innocent, but people who were born there didn't really choose to be one. Jewish people following matters of faith don't deserve to die. No one has (or should have) the right to take someone's life away. People at the Gaza Strip that are either just trying to survive or attempting to protect their homes also don't deserve to die, as flawed as their logic and actions might be, and many are missing that nuance. The denial of food, water, and medical aid, violates the Geneva convention. And it's a kind of retaliation that Palestine in its entirety will never be able to match.

Currently, the Israeli government is preparing a ground invasion of Gaza. An anonymous Israeli official said they would turn Gaza into “a city of tents.” A parliamentarian said that Israel should not concern itself with the safety of any Gazans who “chose” to stay in the Gaza Strip, as if every crossing hasn't been blocked.

Soon, the 'war' will end. And when it does, I can assure you Palestine won't be the last one standing. They've never had a real chance. I'd like to remember everyone that, despite Netanyahu's claims that they are "human animals", Palestinians are human beings. People. All of which deserve to live, deserve compassion and deserve protection. They also deserve to be remembered.

[ghostedeabha]

Can you do William and Afab!Reader snugglefucking?

snugglefucking 🥺🫶

i hope this is to your tastes sweet nonnie <3

MINORS DNI !!

william afton x afab!reader

word count: 450

warnings: soft smut, snugglefuck, very very light dubcon/somnophilia (reader is like half asleep and consent is not direclty given but is implied/refrenced consent has been arranged beforehand), 18+, probably ooc william afton bc it's soft (they're both sleepy)

a/n: i'm a virgin and that's probably gonna be very obvious from how i write smut, my only experience with sex is the fact that i've been reading fanfics since i was 10 so literally 10, almost 11 years💀 that said, please bear with me >.< as always, reader is afab and referred to with some "fem" petnames, but identifying gender is not specified.

a/n 2.0: also i wrote this at my grandparents' house while tipsy💅

a/n 3.0: soooooo all the stuff i wrote while drunk at my grandparents' house got deleted because tumblr is a lil BITCH and ngl i forgot most of what i wrote so i hope this version is okay. i may come back and rewrite this again and make it a little longer just because i feel awful about taking so long to get this out

--------

your eyes were still blurry with sleep in the early morning as you felt your husband slipping your underwear down your legs as he laid behind you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as he slid the obstructing fabric off your body.

you glanced over to check the time, 04:46. you supposed william had woken for work and was feeling rather needy, taking advantage of your previously established arrangement. one both of you took advantage of often.

"mornin' darling, didn't mean to wake you." a lie.

"morning will.. 's okay."

"just relax for me, sweet."

and with his voice so sweet and husky, hoarse with the grogginess of having just woken minutes before you, how could you not relax? his touch moving slowly up your thigh, teasing you just so, before he places a calloused finger to your clit, rubbing slow and teasing circles.

a soft hum of pleasure escapes your lips at his sensual touch, spurring the brit on more. his finger slipping down to slip inside you, curling the digit against the spongy spot deep inside you.

"that's it sweetheart, takin' it so well..." william muttered into your ear lowly as he pressed kisses and nibbles to your neck, slipping a second finger into your throbbing cunt.

william relished in the sounds of your sleepy moans, hips bucking into his hands slightly as he drove his fingers into you at a languid pace. the lewd sounds of your slick against his palm filling both your ears.

feeling his long fingers slip out of you, you let out a broken whine at the loss, only to be met with the feeling of his tip pressing to your core.

"shh, don't complain angel. quit your whining, i'll give you what you want."

"will, please..." you gasped out, begging him so sweetly for something he wasn't even denying you.

william lifts one of your legs gently, moving it back just so to place it back on his thigh as he pushed himself up into you from behind, making sure to go slow as he pushed in, wanting both to be careful with you as well as torture you with his sluggish pace.

soft, broken moans leave both your lips as he slowly pushes in, taking his sweet time bottoming out. once he does he starts a slow, torturous drag, in and out, in and... out.

"fuck, doll. feels good, nice and tight for me, yeah?" william grunts into your ear, his right hand coming down and sliding across your front, making it's way down your stomach to meet your clit once more.

you could never tire of waking up like this, and perhaps you'd have to return the favour tomorrow.

[ashwhowrites]

Older! Dealer! Eddie x reader, she goes to his house every Friday to buy from him, Eddie likes her, but he doesn't know if she likes him, so when they are dealing, he acts more flirtatious than usual, and that ends up in smut

I combined these requests since they are similar. Then I realized not everyone is into older!Eddie so if the anon that requested is uncomfortable with older!Eddie, please reach out and I can rewrite it :)

I sat on this fic for three days because I could not get the creative energy for the smut so the smut is like building up smut and not full blown, I do apologize. I wanted to finally get it out because I had a feeling it's going to take me a while to get that right mood to write

Older dealer

Eddie opened the door as Y/N knocked. Her contagious smile and gentle voice made Eddie's head spin. Y/N has been coming to Eddie for months now for deals. Eddie never mixed his business with his personal life, but he couldn't get this girl out of his head. She was in her 20s and Eddie was in his 40s, the age difference was the only thing stopping Eddie from making a move.

Too many nights he thought of her, lying awake as he thought about her, if she was single, her type, and if she was somehow interested in him. Eddie knew he wasn't the perfect bachelor. He lived in a small trailer and sold drugs as a quick cash grab. She seemed put together, lived in a bright world, and was so young still. She had so much to learn and explore. But he wanted to sink his teeth in her before anyone else did.

"Hey Eddie" she greeted with a big smile, sitting down at the familiar kitchen table. Eddie looked down at his watch as he sat across from her.

"Like two hours early, sweets." He teased, grabbing his bags of weed as he passed them over to her.

"Yeah, I had a date and got stood up. Figured might as well come here while I was out." She shrugged, sliding over her cash as she put the weed in her purse.

Eddie felt himself clench at her words. She was dating, but of course she was. She was gorgeous, hot, and young.

"Who's stupid enough to stand you up? Is he blind or just stupid?" Eddie asked, crossing his arms as she laughed.

"Second one. I can't tell you how many horrible dates I've been on. These guys are so shallow and boyish. Never have respect or manners. Just trying to get laid and bounce out." She complained Eddie found a sense of excitement knowing she was failing miserably in the dating world.

"Sounds like you need a break from the young ones." Eddie winked, maybe this was his shot. He pushed his head on his hand, a little smirk on his face as she tried to read his face.

"And what are you suggesting?" She asked, her eyes looking from his eyes to his lips and back. Eddie smirked at the action, licking his lips as she looked at them again.

"That you need to try an actual man," he stated, looking into her eyes as he kept his voice low. "Someone that knows how to touch a girl like you, hit the right spots, make you whimper, and make pretty sounds. Someone who will be there when you wake up." Y/N felt herself shivering at his words. Her brain thought of his hands touching her, ruining her.

Y/N felt like her throat was dry as she tried to speak up.

"And do you have a man in mind?" She asked, not realizing she was leaning in.

"Depends, are you into older men? Maybe twenty years older than you?" His eyes looked down at her lips as she kept leaning closer.

"Not until I met you. Then I couldn't get you out of my head" She confessed, Eddie smiled at her words. He pulled back and stood up. She blinked confused as she watched him.

He grabbed her hand and yanked her up. She yelped in surprise as he picked her up and placed her on the table. He stood between her legs and wrapped a hand around her neck, tilting her head up.

"I was worried you'd be too young for me. But fuck, you never leave my head. Can't believe those boys don't realize the chance they got." He said, his lips ghosting over hers. Giving her time to stop it if it wasn't what she wanted.

"What about you? Dating around?" She whispered, she knew he was with others and she hated knowing his body was touched by someone else.

"Eyes just on you, baby." He admitted, his lips even closer to hers. He moaned when she smashed her lips on his, her arms around his neck as she tried to control the kiss. He let her have the control for a little while. He took his time to taste her and feel her body under his hands.

He pulled away, she whimpered as he did. Her hands are trying to yank him closer. He pecked her pout softly.

"Patience darling." He whispered, he stood between her legs as he stripped her clothes, admiring her as she laid bare underneath him. His hands moved to her chest, squeezing her breasts softly as he kissed down her neck. His mouth wrapped around her left nipple, sucking softly. His right hand moved down her body, rubbing her clit slowly.

Y/N never thought she'd find herself under her older drug dealer, gasping and cumming over and over. But she was grateful that every bad date led her to this.

Eddie figured people would have shit to say about their age difference, but he didn't care.

He wanted her and he got her. That's all he cared about.

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

[baekberrie]

our pages | c.beomgyu

summary: In a university literature class, you and Choi Beomgyu, once estranged best friends, are assigned to rewrite the tragic ending of Romeo and Juliet. During your research in the library, you stumble upon an ancient book. Intrigued by its enigmatic aura, you find yourselves mysteriously drawn to it, and as you delve deeper, you inexplicably fall into a shared slumber. In your reverie, you are forced to embark on a journey of reconciliation and reflection. Guided by the ethereal world within the book's pages, you confront long-buried emotions and rediscover the true depth of your connection.

✧ ex bestfriend! beomgyu x ex bestfriend! reader

✧ romance, estranged best friends to ?? lovers kind of? Romeo and Juliet au, slight angst, forced proximity, hurt, and comfort, a hint of drama and fantasy

✧warnings: kissing, Beomgyu cusses here and there, some tonal switches, many dialogues

a/n: I've read through this one shot at least a hundred times so I skipped the proofreading because I was really eager to post it, i hope there aren't any atrocious mistakes (there shouldn't be). Anyway, happy reading!

✧ w/c: 13.7k (oops??)

“For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” 

Mr. Kim’s voice flowed in the silent literature hall, every person letting the tragedy sink in like ink on paper. The professor looked up from his script. “And that concludes the Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet-” He spoke in short sentences, however, suspense hung in the air as he halted in his steps across the room.

“But it can’t end like this, don’t you agree?” The class let out a collective hum as they reflected on his enthusiastic question. Mr.Kim took the slightly undersized glasses off the bridge of his nose and placed them on the desk behind him. 

 It really can’t end like this,” Your best friend, Mia, sniffed into the paw of her sleeve, agreeing silently. Mentally, you shook your head at her dramatic antics. You knew that deep down, she didn’t really give a flying fuck about Romeo and Juliet, but since her toxic boyfriend was pushing and pulling again, it all hit close to home.

“I want you all to find a remedy to their story. I’ll pair you into groups of two, and together you’ll write the better ending for Romeo and Juliet.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a suggestion, he was dead serious about this project. In all honesty, you found the ancient love story absolutely beautiful, however, couldn’t help but wonder who broke Mr.Kim’s heart enough for him to be so hung up over this fictitious separation. 

Mia sneaked her hand into yours, shaking you out of your thoughtful state.

“Don’t you agree?” Her sad deer-like eyes came into your view, begging for your empathy. “It’s so sad, it’s like the worst way to part from someone,” She mumbled through her pouty lips. “ever,” a sniff came from her nose, shoulders slumping as she hit the backrest again. 

“The worst way to part with someone?” You thought out loud. If someone were to ask you that question, you would undoubtedly answer with something other than Romeo and Juliet.

Fallouts. You thought. Yeah, those were definitely more painful.

More specifically, the fallout with Choi Beomgyu. 

Sure, Romeo and Juliet’s separation hurt, you admitted while watching your best friend sulk about her toxic boyfriend leaving her for the fifth time that month; but have you ever been estranged from the dearest friend you’ve ever had? The question insensitively introduced itself in your head, but you quickly shooed it away. Romeo and Juliet, their love for each other, and the violence that broke them apart ended up becoming one altogether. 

But cherishing someone so deeply, only to be cruelly pulled apart from each other, your relationship reduced to nothing but hostility. Leaving you to experience that pain every single time you cross paths with him. Wasn’t that just as painful, if not more? Knowing you’ll never be the way you once were.

Choi Beomgyu was by now a name that shouldn’t be pronounced in your presence, it was a name loaded with so many different feelings that you were better off burying down the deepest holes ever known to man. 

You wanted to forget.

But like a cruel joke, the more you pushed it away the more everything would come crashing upon you with double force; The memories your heart cherished despite your efforts to suppress them, every little thing that he had given you, why did it still mean so much to you while all you harbored in your chest was a seething rage at the mere thought of him?

The young man was always smiling whenever you’d walk past each other in the busy hallways of the university. A part of you resented him for that. Whilst you were still stuck in time, he seemed to be completely fine. Like you never were a part of his life. 

Has it been that easy for him to forget you?

You didn’t know why you were still hung up over it, even after all the time that had passed. Hence, you could barely recall the last time the two of you had spoken to each other more than two obligatory words. The only reason that you still knew what his voice sounded like was because you shared this literature class. Much to your dismay.

That explained the utter horror, disappointment, and betrayal contorting the features of your face as Mr. Kim’s lips enunciated your and Beomgyu’s name in the same sentence. Silent pleas were sent Mr. Kim’s way as you met his gaze with big eyes, shaking your head slowly and mouthing several desperate no’s. The old man mercilessly slid the information paper on your desk. He knew damn well the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, and yet there you were being paired up for a project where you had to find a better ending for the youthful lovers. The two of you hadn’t been able to find one for yourselves, how in the world were you going to fix Romeo and Juliet’s!?

Picking up your jaw, you whipped around in your seat to send the young man a fiery glare that could hopefully get the message across. But he was looking out the window, painfully obviously avoiding your confrontation. Shoulders dropping, you turned back around, feeling stupid. Don’t act like you care, you reprimanded yourself.

He doesn’t care, so why should you?

To your surprise, he cared enough to wait for you outside of class, and a silly part of your brain thought that maybe this was something you could get done without further problems. But that small hope soon wilted to nothing when Beomgyu opened his foul little mouth.

“I am not doing this with you.” He gritted through his teeth, the hostile tone immediately had your heartbeat quickening in your chest. Squinting your eyes, you pushed the paper Mr. Kim had given you into his chest. Beomgyu’s hands awkwardly fumbled to catch it.

“And I am not doing this on my own.” You hissed, bumping your shoulder into his. “I’ll see you in the library after class.” It was a warning, and Beomgyu should know better than to not show up. Though, deep down you knew that he owed you no such thing.

***

A few people were roaming around the library when you pushed through the glass doors, the wooden pavement creaking underneath the pressure of your feet. The scent of books and pages instantly embraced your senses, and you welcomed it by breathing it in. You found it somehow comforting, how the light of the setting sun laid itself on the walls like the most delicate of paints, and how the dust particles flickered in the sunrays, glistening like tiny stars. 

Fingers tracing the long forgotten books on the oldest shelf of the library, dust tickled your nose but your eyes relentlessly kept searching for that title. The kind lady behind the desk had directed you here when you had asked for the Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. She had been doubtful about the university library owning such an old piece of literature, but you tested your luck anyway. There was no better way to start this project than by finding different adaptations to compare and review.

A little frown puckered your brows when your fingertips suddenly sunk into the carved title on the back of a book at the end of the line. The color was faded gold painted into the brown leather cover protecting the ancient-looking book. 

“Lovestory.” Your lips mouthed the title curiously. Finding the closest table, you threw your things on the next chair and sat down. Hands eagerly opening it, you noted how the yellowing pages were sewn beautifully into the leather. 

Before your eyes could find any text, they fell on the odd illustrations. A fading picture of a princess-like woman adorned by a shimmering tiara around her soft hair. Her position was pensive as she stood by the railing of a balcony, staring into the night. However, what seemed to strike you about the picture was how her face was nonexistent. It wasn’t as if her face had faded with the age of the book, hence more like it had never been painted on purpose. 

You felt your eyes droop tiredly as your gaze found the first sentences written in cursive ink. Your lips mumbled the sentences absentmindedly as you read.

We were both young when I first saw you

I close my eyes, and the flashback starts

I'm standing there

On a balcony in summer air…

***

Many internal battles had taken place in the head of the young man. He hated to admit that he lost every single one of them, as he found himself standing in front of the glass doors of the library.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed his way in, nose taking in the woody smell etched onto the walls. His eyes scanned for the familiar face, but to his dismay, you were nowhere to be found. A frown creased his forehead as he started taking hesitant steps inside, figuring he would have to search for you deeper within the library.

The book archive felt like a maze as Beomgyu walked through every aisle and still did not find the slightest sign of you. For a moment he thought that you’d already headed home, successfully fooling him. Eyebrows twitching, he could feel his blood starting to boil.

Was that it? Had he really just lost this battle against you? Beomgyu wasn’t sure what he had expected once he’d convinced himself that he owed you this one since it was for a project, but it certainly hadn’t crossed his mind that you would pull such a petty little trick to get back at him. And he had fallen for it-

Beomgyu’s angry stomping suddenly halted when he found himself in an unrecognizable part of the library. He had been so deep within his inner turmoil that he hadn’t paid any attention to where he had unconsciously brought himself.

It surprised him, though, that out of all the spots he could’ve wandered into, he managed to blindly find you.

For there you were, hunched over the round table by the window, cheek squished against an open book with your parted lips threatening to salivate on its pages. Once Beomgyu had willed himself to step closer, the louder your snores resonated. He couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his throat at the familiar sight. Sitting himself on the opposite seat, he took a short moment to soak in the situation. It felt odd. He couldn’t remember the last time the two of you had been in each other’s presence like this, basking in the peaceful warmth of the sunset. Well, this was only possible because you were far into dreamland. He knew that if the both of you were to be awake, this would not have been a friendly meeting.

His gaze traveled along your features, following the path that your hair made while scattered over the table, covering the book you had approved as a very comfortable pillow, for you to snore like that, he thought.

But that was when it hit him.

The book. What book were you even reading? Beomgyu felt an unknown sense of curiosity and urge flow within him, sending an itch into his fingers. Ever so gently, he caressed your hair and tucked an amount behind your ear, revealing the old novel you had been reading. A confused frown puckered his brows as he saw the antiquity of it. Carefully, he removed it from the captivity of your head, but not without making sure that your cheek landed back down softly, with his palm gently guiding your face safely to the surface again.

Beomgyu closed the book to admire its build, with the old leather running underneath his fingertips, he pronounced the carved-out title of the book.

Lovestory.

He flipped it open, the first page revealing the suave illustration of a beautiful young woman from a long time ago. It didn’t take him much to know that whatever this book was about, the heroine of this story was her. For some reason, Beomgyu felt a sense of familiarity wash over him by looking at the illustration. Then it dawned on him and a shiver ran down his spine, fingers tightening around the page.

“This girl looks an awful lot like-“ he gasped, looking away from the yellowing pages down to your sleeping figure in front of him, making sure that his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. Only to realize that the lady in the book was identical to you. 

No, actually,

It was you.

"What the fuck.” The young man shuddered, nothing less than creeped out. For a split second, he considered closing the book. But his curiosity was stronger than him, and before he knew what he was doing, his hand had already flipped over to the following page. The new illustration was only going to perplex the boy further. His lips fell open, completely entranced as his orbs drank in the sight of you in a beautiful dress and a shimmering tiara coronating your head. You were standing on a balcony, hand reaching out to a man climbing his way up to you. Roses and flowers surrounded the two. Nothing short of a fairytale.

In this scene, he had seen it somewhere, but he couldn’t pinpoint it just yet, although the answer was tickling his tongue.

The man climbing your balcony was the most confusing feature to him, for he had no face. Beomgyu couldn’t tell whether the paper was just old enough to be faded, or if it had never been painted. But even then, it made no sense. Because your face, your rosy cheeks, and your sparkling eyes were ever so vivid. Almost as if you’d jumped right into the book. Beomgyu eventually spotted the worn-out text underneath the picture, and read it out.

See the lights, the party, the ball gowns

See you make your way through the crowd

Little did I know…

That you were Ro-

A yawn broke through his lips, his eyelids felt like they weighed tons as he slowly let them fall shut, head coming to rest upon the open book. Beomgyu tried to fight the sudden tiredness in his mind, but the slumber taking over him was like the song of a mermaid luring him in. 

Just like that, he had fallen into dreamland as well, missing the way the faceless man climbing the balcony came to life.

Beomgyu felt his body jolt awake, his eyes shot open after what felt like just a few seconds- but the view in front of him was nothing like the one he had fallen asleep to. There was no library, no old books, but most importantly, you weren’t there. However, before he could even start to worry, a strong arm came around his shoulders, an unknown figure pulling him close. 

“Romeo! Why did you leave us like that?” 

What?

Beomgyu turned his head to find a young man just about his age, his Cheshire-like eyes stared at him with a mischievous smile through a mask that covered just half of his face. The ornament was beautiful, with sparkling gold patterns scattered onto it. His gaze traveled to the man’s clothes, noticing the Renaissance details. Beomgyu winced when he recognized the man.

”Yeonjun?” He asked, baffled. ”What are you doing here?” 

The man in question narrowed his eyes helplessly, hesitancy vibrating in his voice as he spoke. ”Yeon…Pardon me?” His confusion was slowly becoming Beomgyu’s very own as well.

”What do you mean pardon?” Beomgyu scratched the back of his head, he was sure that this man was his best friend Yeonjun and not someone he had mistaken. 

”Yeonjun, can you be serious for one second, what are we doing here?” He snapped, noticing the way Yeonjun was looking him up and down with uncertainty.

Beomgyu checked his clothing quickly, confirming his suspicion. He was also wearing elegant pieces that resembled the ones of his friend. Only then did he realize the weight of the mask resting upon his nose. His hand reached upwards, fingertips running along its curves.

”And why are you wearing these clothes? Let’s take it off!” He started pulling the first buttons of his shirt open, causing the friend to panic as he grabbed Beomgyu’s hands at the speed of light. Confusion swirled in his dark eyes.

”You must have lost your wits, my friend, I am Mercutio! Don’t tell me you have forgotten. Did someone poison you?” Yeonjun, or should he say Mercutio? Brought him closer to inspect if he had any injuries. Beomgyu had a hard time keeping his jaw up as he watched his friend act like he wouldn’t usually laugh with joy whenever he was in misery. Yeonjun’s brows were scrunched in worry as his hands gently tapped his cheeks.

”You appear unaffected, though…” The older man continued to murmur through his pouting lips to himself, and that itself confirmed Beomgyu’s conclusion that all of this was a dream.

It was the first time that the boy woke up in a dream. There was an odd feeling in his body that he couldn’t quite pinpoint, and the more he pondered on it, the harder it became to put his finger on it. But for some reason, he accepted the circumstances pretty quickly. It wasn’t so out of pocket for a dream to be ridiculous, hence, he’d had crazier dreams than this, so why not go with the flow? 

“I apologize?” Beomgyu tried his luck with the words. Although they were studying about the Renaissance at university, he had no clue about how they used to speak at that time.

“I could not fight my eagerness, friend.” Cheeks meeting his eyes, Beomgyu reassured him. Relief replaced immediately Mercutio's previous worry like it had never been there, laughing knowingly and pulling him along to wherever they had been destined.

Music and cheerful chatter from afar danced in the nightly air, the boy could spot a grand castle-like building in the distance. The place emitted a warm light and an inviting aura that called for him.

As they went on, the only thing Beomgyu had discovered was how they were not supposed to enter this masquerade behind the walls facing them. It wasn't a simple, you're not invited. But a pretty serious risk for trouble. And yet, his friend charmed the guards with his convincing acting, successfully fooling them into allowing them to enter. Well, it seemed like Yeonjun still had some of his actual traits despite acting like a madman just a few moments ago. 

The main event started just as the two young men had made their way in. Beomgyu’s lips parted in shock at the amount of people roaming the hall. This wasn’t just any party, he realized, it was a whole ball. The women were dressed ever so beautifully, each gently targeting their man of interest with a mere gaze through their masks, hoping that they would come to sweep them off their feet.

“Welcome Gentlemen!” A man whom Beomgyu understood couldn’t be anyone but the lord of the house, warmly saluted his guests, shaking their hands heartily. “Come in! Come in!” He waved Beomgyu and his friends in, not having the tiniest suspicion upon seeing these masked youths enter his party. His mood seemed to have touched the stars as he gladly spoke to everyone.

“Who is that?” Beomgyu carefully whispered to Yeonjun, not knowing what answer he was expecting. His gaze was too busy scanning the hectic crowd to even see the deflated shoulders and exasperated gaze of Mercutio.

“What query is this?” He reprimanded, “Do not feign ignorance of the visage of a Capulet, Romeo."

Capulet.

Wait, Romeo?

His head whipped to look at his friend. Eyes wide, struggling to keep himself up.

“Is my name Romeo?” Beomgyu spoke a little too loud, earning a few looks from around. He couldn’t explain the sudden sense of fear in the revelation. It was just a dream after all. A really stupid one at that. Why the hell would he dream about being Romeo? Had Mr. Kim shoveled this Romeo and Juliet agenda so far down his throat that he ended up dreaming about it?

Mercutio sent daggers through his eyes, warning him to keep quiet.

“Have you taken leave of your senses, my friend?!” He yelled in hushed tones. “Do not reveal yourself like that! Be vigilant for Tybalt and hush.” With a shake of his head, Mercutio averted his gaze back to the Capulet patriarch who was currently inviting every lady to dance without a worry in the world.

“My ladies, it would be a delight to see you dancing! Only those girls with corns at their feet will say no! Do not shy away, may all of you please yourselves with this dance!” Capulet exclaimed, animatedly speaking with his hands, throwing them up in the air. His delighted laughter echoed against the stone walls as he with glistening eyes signaled the musicians to start playing. 

Let the party begin. 

Beomgyu watched his “friends” adjust their masks, nodding at each other knowingly, not forgetting to acknowledge him as well before they all dispersed themselves into the crowd with the plan of enjoying themselves. 

And that was how he found himself leaning against the wall by himself, slightly shivering at its low temperature. His gaze wandered along the surroundings. The warm fairy lights, the extravagant ball gowns. Women wearing shy expressions whilst putting their hands in another man’s palm. While others smiled like they had been waiting their whole life for this occasion and dragged their men to the dance floor. Despite his confusion as to why he was dreaming of such specific happenings, it still was an amusing sight to see how people in the old ages seemed to act just like today’s young people did.

Rather than dreaming so vividly, Beomgyu felt like he was watching a story unfold right in front of him. 

Beomgyu’s long train of thought was cut by the jump that his heart made to his throat as a certain someone entered his field of view. There she was, dancing in the arms of a man unknown to him, but at that moment, it didn’t matter who was accompanying her. Beomgyu’s lips fell apart as he drank in her movements that were light as though a floating feather. The white dress hugging her chest fell like the most breathtaking waterfall down to her feet, fluttering behind her as she danced across the floor. The tiara on her head glittered like stars scattered over her hair and at that moment, the young man couldn’t be more sure of this being a dream.

There she was.

 He didn’t even have to ask to know who the ethereal woman was.

Juliet.

Little did he know, that wasn’t Juliet.

The same way that he wasn’t Romeo.

That was you. 

An unknown force surged within him, a newfound resolution. And before he was even aware of what he was doing, his body was already pushing through the dancing crowd to get to you. His mind was in a haze as he chased you who moved like a fairytale. There was an urge in his movements, almost like you’d disappear if he’d be even a second too late. Beomgyu could barely recognize himself, it was as if a part of Romeo had rooted itself within him. It seemed like he’d be sharing every emotion, every thought of the youth in love tonight.

His heart was drumming relentlessly against his chest, asking to be set free as he extended his arm out, successfully grabbing your soft hand. A gasp came from your lips as Beomgyu spun you into his arms. Chest rising and deflating in heavy breaths, the young man looked almost desperate as he searched for your gaze.

Was I in love before? My eyes convinced me not, since I never realized what true beauty is before tonight. Romeo’s words echoed in Beomgyu’s head as if they were his very own thoughts, but he shook them away whilst taking you to a less crowded space. 

“Beomgyu?” He heard your voice for the first time since he saw you, and its sound grounded him in the chaos of this ridiculous dream.

“Why are you in my dream?” The question had the young man halt in his steps, spinning on the balls of his feet to see your genuinely confused frown.

“What do you mean by your dream?” Beomgyu cocked a brow, feeling how Romeo’s overwhelming emotions were finally being suppressed by his usual self.

“This is my dream, I can be here all I want.”

You shook your head, for a short moment drawing his gaze to the sparkling tiara on your head. “I was here first.” You deadpanned, only to see Beomgyu’s face fall in disbelief. 

“There is no such thing in a dream, what the hell are you talking about?” The boy felt his frustration rise, but so did you upon hearing his tone. 

“Woah,” you breathed out, crossing your arms. “You’re still an asshole despite this being a dream.”  

Beomgyu’s lips pressed into a thin line at your statement, he couldn’t find any words to defend himself.

“Look,” you sighed, ending the short silence before it could become heavier.

“I don’t know why I’m having you in my dream but please leave, go your own way, I don’t care.” Your fingers slowly went to hug your body as you averted your gaze away. “I just want to continue this dream for as long as I can, let me be Juliet in peace and we won’t have any more problems.” Although you hadn’t let anything on, Beomgyu could still spot the hurt in your voice as you begged him to leave and it put an unexplainable weight on his chest.

The pain in your voice was an ancient one. 

He should have wanted to leave, but inexplicably, he found himself unable to take even a single step away from you. Beomgyu was unsure if it was Romeo once again plaguing him with his emotions or if he was starting to lose his mind. Because what he said next caught him off guard, just as much as the previous thoughts had.

“But I am Romeo.”

You looked at him from underneath your lashes, arms falling limply to your sides.

“No, you’re not.” You said weakly, dejected. The insistence on rejecting him felt all too familiar, flashbacks of the past clouded his head for a second and he felt dread shroud his being. 

The young man insisted, "Yes, I am. And you're Juliet," as he nodded at you. What was he trying to prove? He didn't know. Was he attempting to prolong the conversation with you? Perhaps, but the reason behind it eluded him. Despite his confusion, something about this entire experience felt authentic. It couldn't have been a mere coincidence that the two of you met in this dream as the two youths in love.

“It doesn’t matter-“ You were ready to turn around, and seeing your back about to face him made a sense of panic tighten his chest. 

“Isn’t it odd though?” He interjected before you could completely face away from him.

You halted your movements with a frown, silently telling him to go on.

“Why are we, out of all people, meeting here, in these specific circumstances?”

“Where are you getting with this, Beomgyu, what is it to you? I don’t get it.” You tried to dismiss his words, although they had already found their way under your skin quicker than you’d liked.

Lips pressed together, his eyes chasing your gaze. It was almost as if he was thinking out loud. "I'm sorry," he murmured with a shaky voice. "I didn't mean to start on the wrong foot. I..." He ran his fingers through his hair, a familiar gesture you've seen him do for years. You could see his frustration growing. Beomgyu seemed to be struggling with something, and it was starting to show. The resolve he had held onto for so long was starting to crumble, and he realized just how exhausted he was to pretend.

To pretend like he hated you.

The longer he took you in, the more he felt himself slip like sand through the cracks of his hands.

He did miss you. And this was just a dream, anyway.

So it wouldn't hurt to act however he- Romeo felt like, right?

He drew in a deep breath before pronouncing the words that were dancing just on the top of his tongue, words that he had been holding back since the very second he'd seen you in the dancing crowd.

"Can we just forget everything between us, and let whatever this is…continue?" His head hung low like the hope in his heart, expecting a harsh rejection. He wouldn't blame you, he was making no sense. One second he was raging against you and the next he was begging you to let him stay with you. Maybe he was out of his mind, but for some reason as he looked at you, nothing mattered. You were the most beautiful creature God created and the reason for his life-

"Okay," your gentle voice cut through, and the boy jolted with joy at the positive response. Your shimmering eyes showed surrender, the twinkle of someone who did not want to fight.

Your gazes locked for a few moments, the silence thick and uncertain. Beomgyu's cheeks dusted an embarrassed shade of pink as he left your eyes to look elsewhere.

"So what now?" A nervous laugh spilled from his lips.

You murmured to him, "You have to say your lines." making him almost bashful underneath your unwavering stare. You knew it was rude to stare, but there was no way you couldn't be savoring this moment.

"Huh?"

"You have to let the Romeo within you speak, only that way, the story can continue." Having been within this dream longer, you had already figured its system out. You had expected the boy to look at you with confusion, but he surprised you when he nodded with determination. 

Letting his eyelids fall shut, he took a deep breath and opened the doors of his heart to the youth whose love was like a burning rose- beautiful and passionate.

A gasp left his lips at the sudden wildfire spreading in his chest. Eyes fluttering open, he hastily walked up to you. Romeo's urgency ran through his veins as he desperately took your hands in his. The light in Beomgyu's eyes had changed, his eyebrows bent in pain as he searched for your gaze but only found uncertainty and worry. He quickly withdrew his hands from yours, causing you to miss the comforting warmth of his touch.

“I fear I’ve defiled your hands, which are like a holy shrine to me, by touching them with my own unworthy hands.” From his eyes dropped honey as he took you in, lips tenderly speaking to your heart. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, its rhythmic thumping echoing in your ears. You couldn't tell if it was your heart or Juliet's that was racing at breakneck speed. The emotions that surged within you were like nothing you had ever felt before, a mixture of fear, excitement, and uncertainty that left your throat feeling tight. You were lost in Beomgyu's captivating gaze, his deep brown eyes like vast oceans that threatened to swallow you whole. For a moment, you forgot where you were and who you were with, lost in a universe of your own. Breaking your long eye contact, you hastily spun around, allowing the young man to only face your back. 

As you stared into the starry night, you were slowly understanding the depth of this love, a love you’ve always deemed so unreal. But as you donned the young woman’s clothes, you couldn’t help but hope that this could end in a different way than it was destined to.

Despite you turning your back, the enamored young Romeo was not easily discouraged. You heard him move closer, the sweet scent of his skin caressing your senses as he leaned over your shoulder, lips brushing against your ear as he murmured;

“But I have an agreeable way to make it up to you. My lips are ready to smooth over that rough touch with a tender kiss, like two devoted pilgrims before a holy place.”

It felt as if you’d grown a second heart swelling with excitement behind your ribcage, yearning to let its wings soar. At that point, it was hard to tell if the eager butterflies fluttering their wings and dancing in your belly were your own or Juliet's. But it didn’t matter, you realized. You wanted to savor every moment, you wanted every instant to etch itself into your memory so that you could rewatch it in eternity. With hasty movements, you faced him again, not missing the way his face lit up.

”Good worshiper, you’re too harsh on your own hand,” Beomgyu watched with devotion as you picked his wrist up, and with your other hand ran the tips of your fingers along his own, aligning them until his palm was softly kissing yours. 

”as it shows a perfectly polite devotion by holding mine.” You let your gaze meet his.

”After all, pilgrims touch the hands of saints, and the hands kiss when their palms are brought together.” You breathed, in your mind tracing the silver lines of the moon illuminating Beomgyu’s features, adoring the sweet shadow that his long lashes cast down his blushing cheeks.

The male stepped closer, your kissing palms now between your chests pressing against one another, a soft breeze brushed through the long, brown locks caressing his neck.

”Yes, but don’t the saints and the worshipers have lips, too?” He curled a brow, searching for your gaze, but your eyes shied away as you settled for your intertwined hands.

”Yes, pilgrim,” you swallowed, still looking down, ”lips that they should use for prayer.”

Beomgyu’s hand left yours, and for a moment you felt your heart drop. Until his fingers soon eagerly returned to caress your rosy cheek.

”Well then, dear saint, let our lips do what our hands are doing.” His palm finally embraced your face, the pad of his thumb softly rubbing back and forth the surface of your skin. ”They’re praying for something after all, a kiss, so their faith doesn’t turn into despair.” Daringly, he lifted your chin so you could meet his gaze. Your heart raced as you whispered your response.” Saints don’t act first,” Your eyes drifted from his gaze, down the tall bridge of his nose, and onto his plush lips, despite the words that threatened to escape your throat. 

"Although they may respond to prayers." It was as if the both of you had been cast under a spell. The most beautiful spell known to man, completely immersed in the addictive sweetness of this love, neither of you wanted to pull away.

Eyes hooding, threatening to fall shut at any moment. It was the effect of the powdery scent deriving from the whole of you. A wish to be wrapped up in it ignited within him. Beomgyu had barely noticed how minimal the distance between you had become. His lips were hovering over yours, breaths mingling into one single source of air.

”Then don’t move while I get my prayers answered.” Beomgyu breathed before his pillows landed between yours, a sweetness spreading on your palate reminding the inner Juliet of the delight of honey and milk. He sighed with relief when your lips responded to his as if this kiss had truly saved your faith from turning into despair. As if your lips had saved him from a lifelong agony.

Your lips detached slowly and hesitantly, only letting go for the sake of your lungs.

”Now all the sin has been purged from my lips thanks to yours.” A sweet smile that he couldn’t hold back spread on his lips as his orbs traced the beauty of your face. What kind of blessed dream was this, to have Beomgyu looking at you like that?

You couldn’t resist the contagiousness of his joy. ”Then that sin has passed from your lips to mine.” You beamed.

”A sin from my lips?” He repeated with feigned shock, a sweet laugh hearable in his timbre. ”Oh what a sweetly suggested trespass! Give it back to me.” His lips crashed once again upon yours, hands cradling your cheeks as his mouth gently parted yours.

”You kiss by the book.” You said through your slightly swollen lips, eyes smiling behind your cheeks. He chuckled breathily. Both of you had forgotten who you truly were.

”Juliet! Juliet!!” A woman’s voice called for you, and it took you a while before you realized that you had to react. Realization seemed to dawn on Beomgyu as well as the smile dissipated from his lips, the honey in his eyes replaced by confusion and you felt your heart break a little. 

”What did we just-”

”I have to go,” You didn’t let him finish his sentence, telling yourself that it was because you had to flee the scene for the story to proceed. Deep down knowing that you were protecting your heart from a pain you had sworn you wouldn’t ever feel again because you and Beomgyu were over. But that was in real life, so why was that expression of Beomgyu’s following you even in this seemingly sweet dream?

A bitter laugh rang into the summer night as you started running away from the stunned man. So was this a joke? How could you have thought that being Juliet would have brought you anything less than pain?

What a fool you were.

“Juliet!” You heard once again when rounding the corner of the castle. Your best friend Mia appeared, dressed in clothes less refined than yours, still reflecting the fashion of the ancient century. You could imagine that her rank was significantly lower than yours. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you, Lady Juliet.” She gasped, clearly winded from the marathon she must have run whilst looking for you. You were insecure about how to reply, not quite sure of which character she was supposed to fulfill. If you and Beomgyu were the star crossed-lovers, then perhaps she was…?

“Come with me! Your curfew has long passed, we must hasten!” Mia urged her voice a loud whisper that still managed to echo slightly against the stony walls surrounding you. Gently grabbing your wrist, she propelled you forward with a force unexpected for a tiny girl like her. With brisk steps, the two of you walked down a stone path leading to a hidden passage.

“Who might you be, pardon my question?” 

The young woman halted her stride abruptly, long hair flowing down her back as she turned to cast you with an incredulous gaze. “Have you lost your wits entirely to that Romeo?” she exclaimed. “I warned you he was unsuitable for you, my lady!” She surely knew her stuff, you noted, and was pretty opinionated as well. But that was nothing short of Mia. You couldn’t help the tiny smile that was etched onto your face. Her presence brought you an infinite amount of comfort.

“I can sense our dear friendship, but forgive that I cannot quite recall…” You inquired once more, sporting a playful pout on your rosy lips. The young woman’s shoulders visibly sagged with surrender as she took a small step to face you fully.

“I am your faithful Nurse, my lady,” she replied with a slight curtsey, her expression softening with affection. "M'lady, your forgetfulness after meeting with that gentleman truly wounds me." She sniffed and adverted her gaze elsewhere, something she’d usually do when she feigned anger in your regards. The soft moonlight danced on her pretty cheeks and you couldn’t help but note how this era flattered her ancient beauty.

“Please, let us retreat to my chamber, there I’ll tell you all about my encounter with Romeo.” If you knew your best friend, then you were sure that there was no better bait than her favorite topic; love. She was judgemental of Romeo but deep down, you knew that she would devour any details of your faithful encounter with the lad. Not that you were enthusiastic about recalling it, for reasons all too clear.

You watched as Mia’s eyes widened with joy and excitement, her hands coming together into a thankful hold. Cheeks meeting her sparkling irises into the biggest smile you’d ever witnessed. You knew you had won her over. 

***

A few hours had gone since your Nurse had left your room. She’d squealed like a tiny hamster and kicked her feet like a high-school girl upon hearing what had happened between you and Beom…Romeo, as if she hadn’t completely regarded him as unsuitable just a few minutes prior. But you weren’t a bit surprised, she was a known sucker for romance. But perhaps, you were a little too.

Now that she was gone though, you found yourself completely unable to unwind.

You had spent the entire night, wide-eyed, watching the moonlight caress the walls of your room, until it slowly gave way to the warm hues of daylight. You had lost track of the countless sunsets and sunrises that had passed since you made your escape from the scene a few days ago. As you sat on the balcony, feeling the sweet breeze on your skin, you couldn't help but ponder over the situation. It occurred to you that nothing significant had happened since you left, leaving you wondering if the story had come to a pause until you and Beomgyu met again. You kicked up the hem of your long dress to let the wind cool your warm skin. 

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you recalled the insane kiss with Beomgyu. The pressure of the kiss still lingered on top of your lips along with that sweet scent of his that had etched itself onto your memory. His warm fingertips that had caressed your cheeks, his lashes tickling your skin. Were dreams truly so vivid?

"That's a big problem," you muttered to yourself as you walked back into the beautiful room you were slowly growing accustomed to. You’d never even dared to dream of owning such a priceless chamber, filled with even more valuable furniture. 

Throwing yourself back onto the soft bed, you rolled onto your stomach, feeling the weight of your worries pressing down on your chest. You hugged the nearest pillow to yourself, hoping it would somehow alleviate the ache in your heart. You couldn't help but let the worst thoughts cloud your mind as time passed, yet seemed so sickeningly still. A muffled scream vibrated against the lavish fabric of the pillow now pressed against your face, a desperate attempt to release the pent-up anxiousness and frustration you felt. Your feet kicked against the mattress. Would Beomgyu think less of you now? Would he even want to see you again after such a…kiss? The questions swirled around in your head, taunting you with their uncertainty.“Romeo…” You sighed slowly, “Beomgyu out of all, why did you have to be Romeo…” You complained only to be met by silence.

“Ngh-” A sudden grunt deriving from the balcony had you scramble up from your past position with haste. Hair disheveled, Beomgyu had one leg over the railing of your balcony. The dagger hanging around his waist crinkled as he landed with a thump. His shirt was slightly scrunched up and you thought you saw a leaf tangled in his soft locks before you got distracted by his voice when he puffed out his next words.

“Why the hell are there so many guards around here?!” He huffed, dusting his pants. He was standing by the big opening of your room, the long curtains by your windows fluttering him welcome along the dancing breeze. 

As if your legs had given out, you couldn't find any strength to step off the bed as you incredulously took in the very man who had been keeping you up for consecutive nights.

“Beomgyu?” Your voice faltered. It felt unreal to see Beomgyu standing there. Did his visit mean he wasn't mad or bothered by the kiss? The young man seemed unbothered as he coyly welcomed himself into your chamber, sitting himself down on your bed with a deep sigh and sprawling his tired legs before him. “hmm,” He hummed hoarsely, his arms extended behind him as he leaned his head back. Staring up at the endless details of your painted ceiling made him feel dizzy. 

He was avoiding your gaze, you noted. The silence was thick and the slight tensing of his jaw told you that he was also battling an inner turmoil. Perhaps that matter was better off unsolved, you told yourself. It wasn’t your true self acting that night anyway. 

Yes, you concluded. It was better this way. The weight lifted itself off your chest.

Just as your lips were about to part with a sigh, breaking the heavy silence, the young man beat you to it. “We’ve been stuck here for days,” Beomgyu remarked, his gaze still fixed on the celestial ceiling. You pressed your lips together, silently concurring as you nodded. Fidgeting with the delicate lace of your dress, you missed the glance Beomgyu stole at you.

“If we don’t do something soon, I fear the story will remain frozen in time,” your voice whispered gently, tip-toeing through the air to reach his ears, “forever.” Finally, your eyes met his, locking in a silent pact of understanding. Something suddenly flickered in his gaze, a dreadful kind of realization that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“What if the fastest way to get out of here is to…” Beomgyu’s voice came out delicate and uneasy, fading into the sentence as he feared his own words. Swallowing thickly, he parted his lips again. “Die, the way Romeo and Juliet did.”

Your breath caught as the implication sank in.

Mouth agape and trembling, unable to say anything for a while.

“We have to die…” You repeated with disbelief, albeit agreeingly as you recalled the tragic ending of the star-crossed lovers. 

Beomgyu nodded, his expression solemn. "It's the only way I can think of. Maybe... maybe that's what the dream wants. Closure. An ending."

Your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach at the thought, but there was a deviant sense of inevitability settling over you. "But... what happens after? What if we can't wake up?"

The boy could only find it in himself to lift his shoulders in a sincere shrug. 

“I can’t say,” He confessed thoughtfully. “It’s a scary thought, I understand if you don’t want to try this solution-”

“No,” In opposition to the doubt that had started seeping into his voice, you felt the determination swarm your chest as you suddenly rose to your feet.

“We’ll do it.” You interjected firmly. Beomgyu watched you wide-eyed, skin tingling as you gently took his hand in yours, pulling him up towards you. Having lost Beomgyu that faithful day, you were pretty sure that you’d already lost everything. You had nothing else at risk. It was all just a bittersweet dream after all. None of this was real.

He seemed to have lost his tongue, or perhaps he had lost himself in your gaze, his ears ringing with his very own heartbeat.

“Are you sure?” In his warm irises danced small flickers of concern and admiration. The underlying fear in his deep timbre comforted you. This was the most the two of you had ever talked in years. The lack of hostility felt unfamiliar, but a rare gift. You wished to never forget the soft expression on his features and the concern he was mustering towards you.

Perhaps, somewhere in his heart, he did still care for you.

“I’m sure,” your unwavering determination had the corner of his lips lift, a small, barely noticeable smile. A glimmer of hope twinkled in his eyes. In reality, your head was spinning and the fear was consuming you from the inside. But you wouldn’t back away. "If this is what it takes to break free from this endless cycle, then we have to try," you affirmed. 

"Alright," he whispered, his fingers tightening around yours in a silent promise. "Together, then." You nodded, egging him to go on. 

The air was thick with anticipation, the echoes of your impending fate whispering through the stillness.

Beomgyu's voice was steady as he spoke. "My dearest Juliet, if this be our destiny, then let us meet it with courage and love."

Your breath caught in your throat as you met his gaze, the depth of his brown eyes reflecting the same fear and determination swimming in yours. "My sweet Romeo, together in life and death, our love shall transcend even the boundaries of this dream." You breathed out.

The youth nodded with a sense of grief etching onto the strings of his heart. Bringing your trembling fingers to his wavering lips, he pressed them against your cool skin and closed his eyes. "Farewell, my love," he murmured against your hand. 

A shudder left your mouth as you echoed his broken words, and Juliet’s tears welled up in your eyes.

“Farewell, my dearest,” You spoke barely above a whisper, a gentle hand reached for the apple of his cheek where the dampness of the summer heat lingered. Your thumb left tender strokes on the surface of his skin. Your feet slowly rose onto your toes, noses grazing and eyelashes tickling each other's cheeks. Brushing your lips against his for the last time.

A feather-light pressure on his pillows transcended into something deeper, more beautiful when he parted his lips slowly against yours. Agony and comfort were all you could taste. Your heart ached when you parted. Beomgyu’s eyes remained closed as a pained expression contorted his brows. "Together, my love," he reminded, perhaps to give himself more courage as he reached for the side of your hair, taking out the sharp jewelry that had been holding your locks up. Hair cascading softly onto your shoulders, you reached out for the dagger that had been hanging by his waist. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you nodded once more. Directing it towards your stomach.

Your breath got lost in your lungs as you pushed the dagger further, edges puncturing through your body. With your eyes squeezed shut, you dreaded for the pain to settle. The thick silence only offered the rhythm of your staggering breaths, until the noise of something cracking pierced through the air. Looking down hastily, you witnessed the surreal view of the dagger in your hands shattering into millions of glistening fragments. They faded into thin air. Your eyes hurried to meet Beomgyu’s, only to find him as shaken as you, with his hands void of any sharp object.

At that moment, the inexplicable occurrence bound you both in a shared bewilderment as you both realized something;

It wasn’t over yet.

Not like that.

You parted your lips to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat. What had just occurred? It was almost as if the story was stopping you from undergoing the painful death.

“Did…Did we do it the wrong way?” You wondered out loud, perplexed. “Is it because we didn’t drink poison like in the original script-” Beomgyu cut you off with a shake of his head, arms falling limply by his sides. 

“No, I frankly don’t think that’s it. The premise was dying together and that’s what we tried,” The unreadable expression in his eyes told you that he too, was short of solutions and explanations. “But we can’t give up yet,” He declared softly, an ancient determination that you knew all too well flickered in his irises. “there has to be another way.” His stubborn nature reminded you of the past you shared, sending your heart into a frenzy. You recalled blaming him for years, for changing and leaving you behind, but as you stood before each other, you were met by a Beomgyu who continuously nurtured the nostalgia that had been swimming in your chest since the very moment he’d caught your hand in the dancing crowd.

Your gaze softened upon him.

Your heart echoed his sentiments, the flicker of hope igniting within you. "You're right," you replied, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside. "We need to find a better ending, one where we both survive."

A better ending, one where you both would survive…

With a sudden gasp, you grasped his hands, catching him off guard. Beomgyu stumbled slightly, his eyes widening with surprise and curiosity at your sudden fervor.

"Of course!" you exclaimed with a new sense of excitement pulsing through your veins. "Why didn't I think of this before?" Your fingers tightened around his, the connection sparking a newfound determination within you. Disregarding his perplexity, you continued with a rush of energy taking the both of you by storm.

"Maybe the solution isn't to reenact the tragic ending," you presented, your voice gaining strength with each word. "Perhaps it's about forging a new path, creating a different outcome."

You allowed your words to linger shortly, seeking for his gaze, which still seemed hesitant. "Don’t you see, Beomgyu?" you persisted. "The story is telling  us to rewrite Romeo and Juliet's fate, just like Mr. Kim's dumb assignment!" There was a hint of laughter in your tone, a flicker of amusement amidst the seriousness of the moment, as the realization slowly dawned on both of you. Beomgyu’s lips gradually fell apart at the revelation, every doubt suddenly falling back into place.

“Let’s split up for now, I’ll talk to Mercutio,” Beomgyu suggested to which you nodded fervently, already knowing what to do. “I’ll see you here at dawn.” You completed his sentence. And just like that, he was out of your field of view, the last image of him being his silhouette skillfully jumping over the balcony.

It was a silent agreement to find out more about the conflict between the two families, each to their own. Only then, could you find a true solution?

Sure, you knew that the Capulet and Montague families had an ancient feud that pulled the youths apart from each other. But…what exactly had happened?

Without wasting another second, you spun on the balls of your feet and hurried out of your room, for the first time in days, facing the hustle of the busy castle. “Mia,” You mumbled to yourself, “I need to find Mia…” The heels of your sandals clicked against the marble steps as you rushed your way through the endless corridors. Rounding a corner, you almost collided with a servant carrying a tray of food.

“I apologize, M’lady.” The servant quickly bowed their head low before scurrying away. You stood still for a moment, taken aback but quickly blinked away the slight shock and resumed your search. Your mind raced with thoughts of finding your best friend.

Weaving through the maze-like castle, you almost feared losing your way. You felt like you’d rounded the same corner at least ten times. But perhaps your determination did not deem itself unfruitful when you caught a glimpse of her bustling about in the servant’s quarters. Relief washed over you and you picked up your pace further, calling for her. “Mia- Nurse!”

The young lady whipped around with startle in her movements. Her eyes were wide with shock but upon seeing you, a familiar warmth shaped itself into her soft smile.

“Lady Juliet!” She exclaimed, “What brings you here?”

Coming to a halt in front of her, you breathlessly said; “I need to talk to you,” ignoring the confusion that swarmed her eyes at your unusual language, the rush in your veins was making you forget all about how Juliet was supposed to act. Nonetheless, the girl nodded understandingly and gave you her attention.

“Do speak your worries, m’lady. I am at your service.” You sighed with relief and took her hand, walking further inside her quarter, and closing the door behind you. 

“Nurse…Why can’t I and Romeo be together?” You initiated, struggling to find the right words. The young woman watched you with perplexed eyes. “You know full well the reasons, m’lady.” Mia’s knowing gaze weighed upon you, you noted how her voice was soft and solemn as she spoke, as though not to hurt your fragile feelings.

You shook your head stubbornly. “No! I really do not!” As your voice raised ever so slightly, you noticed the slight panic contorting her features and you immediately calmed down.

“I just…I love him so much,” You felt breathless, as the words slipped past your lips, a strange rush of vulnerability crashed upon you. Mia’s eyes locked with yours but you found yourself relentlessly avoiding her gaze. The feelings falling from your lips were Juliet’s and hers alone. But then why did it feel like your heart had been laid bare for the whole world to see?

You gulped, “I understand the feud of our families, but I need to know what happened!” You urged, hoping that you would be able to find answers. “What could possibly have been the cause of such a lifelong resentment? Why do I have to pay the price of my love because of an ancient conflict that…” the words spilled past your quivering lips, it was almost like you had no control over what left your mouth. These overwhelming emotions were too big for your heart to bear. “That doesn’t involve me!?” You implored.

Mia’s gaze softened, shoulders sinking slightly as she gently took your cold hands into her warm ones. Her touch was so tangible that you almost forgot that all of this wasn’t anything other than a dream.

“Oh sweet Y/n, but it does involve you.” Your throat suddenly felt extremely, a shiver running down your spine. “W-what?” Your voice trembled when you met her unfazed eyes. Had she just called you by your name? 

“The day that you have mourned for so long, it was you who left him,” Mia explained calmly, though the words became nothing but a swirling mess in your head. “What are you talking about?” You inquired, pulling your hands out of her grasp. Uneasiness settled within you at the direction that the conversation was taking.

“You and Beomgyu are now strangers because you turned your back on him, that day.” Her sentence pierced through your throbbing heart, a sense of injustice had you shaking your head furiously.

“How…How can you say that I left him when he was the one who denied knowing me in front of others?!” You cried out, throwing your hands in the air. “He was the one who ended our friendship at that very moment.” 

You recalled the scene vividly. The pain of that day was ingrained so deeply within your memory, that sometimes the cuts it left still felt fresh. It had been just another exhausting day of classes but nonetheless, you had been eager to meet up with your best friend at your usual spot. But as you had rounded the corner your anticipation had quickly morphed into shock. With your breath caught in your throat, you witnessed Beomgyu surrounded by people unknown to you. Their expressions taunting and relentless as they held up a photograph in front of Beomgyu’s face. His patience was wearing thin and a scowl was etched permanently onto his face. Something about the scene unsettled you deeply but you had been rooted onto your spot, unable to move.

“Shut up,” Beomgyu had hissed, attempting to rip the photo from their grasp, only igniting laughter from the others when they easily pulled it higher up.

“Why so serious? Don’t you love her anyway? But her mommy hates you, how sad!” The taller male waved the photograph teasingly and laughed in his face.

“I don’t fucking love her!” His voice echoed bitterly in the lonely corridor. You still remembered the way his voice reverberated in your ears, each word a cruel stab to your heart. “We’re merely acquaintances so cut this crap and leave me alone.” Beomgyu’s voice was cold and merciless. You had felt a strong sense of betrayal wash over you, wondering why he was denying your friendship so vehemently. You were hurt and confused, the emotions ever so overwhelming and you struggled to comprehend what had happened.

You recalled his hands curled into tight fists, his chest heaving visibly up and down after he’d gotten them to leave. And then, the moment that would haunt you for years to come happened. He had turned to you, eyes filled with a raw emotion you couldn't decipher. Something had flickered in his gaze, perhaps regret, almost as if he’d woken up from a trance. But the wall that his words had put between you was insurmountable. 

Although your name had come tumbling from his lips, begging you to let him explain, your back had already been turned, heart had already been broken into irreparable pieces.

You looked at Mia, your desperate eyes silently begging her to understand the turmoil inside of you. “I know it wasn’t easy being my friend, especially with my mother making it clear that she didn’t like him. I don’t know why she was so against him, but I never stopped defending him!” You paused to take a breath. “Not for one moment. I put him over my parents' rules and valued his friendship over my parents’ trust. I always sneaked out to see him although I was grounded for that very same reason…” Your words stumbled upon each other in your haste to defend yourself, “So how could you say that I was the one who left him?”

“Y/n,” Mia coaxed gently, eyes fluttering shut was a deep breath. “It mustn’t have been easy on your heart.” She affirmed, bowing her head slightly. “But believe my words, there is more to this tale than you are aware of.” She paused, letting you feel the gravity of her words although you struggled to make sense of it all.

“What do you mean?” Confusion clouded your thoughts, “What do I not know of? Did Beomgyu hide something from me?” Your mind spiraled, but your friend’s sudden grip on your shoulders brought your focus back on her. “Do not fret!” She scolded, her usually sweet eyes now stern as they pierced through yours. “This story goes beyond the two of thy…Your mother and Beomgyu’s father share a history.” Mia carefully unfolded the truth to you. Your arms fell limp to your sides, eyes wide open as the new information sank in. 

“It is so. They used to court each other in their youthful days.” She confirmed your suspicions. “However, they belonged to different realities. Their love was forbidden much like the tale of Romeo and Juliet. Your mother had always been true to her traditions. Attempts  to sort the disagreement between her and her family hadn’t given any fruits, they wouldn’t approve of a relationship with the young Mr. Choi.” 

Your head was spinning.

Mia’s words painted a picture of a past you never knew, shedding light on the hidden truths that had shaped your relationship with Beomgyu since the very beginning. The two of you had only been children when you’d first met. Your cries resounded in the rain storm, a knee scraped open because of your clumsy feet. Beomgyu, one of the many by-passers had heard your wailing from far. 

Not the sweet little bandaid he’d clumsily applied to your injury, not even the umbrella he’d handed you so that you would stop crying could have thawed your mother’s icy resolve. He had walked you home, only to be sent away coldly by your mother. Even so, your friendship continued flowering on the familiar grounds of your school. A part of you had always seen Beomgyu like the knight that helped the princess escape her tower of isolation. He was the sweet breeze under your shirt on a hot summer day. He was the sense of liberation and affection that shrouded you like a warm blanket when in his presence. You’d discovered parts of yourself whilst by his side, that would have forever remained uncovered if you’d listened to your parents' warnings.

“But-” Your voice faltered with disbelief, “Why would my mother put me through her same pain?” A part of you wanted to sympathize with your mother, but the longer you dwelled on it the more you felt yourself lose your mind. The endless fights, the uncountable times they’d punished you for refusing to cut ties with the friend that meant so much to you.

“You see,” Mia hummed, “That is where your mother’s resentment brews, although she points to Beomgyu’s bad influence on you, the truth is another. Beomgyu is a painful reminder of her past. His familiar face reminds her of the one man she truly loved and lost.” Her voice tinged with empathy, “She struggles to cope with her broken heart.” Every utterance was a tiny piece of the vast puzzle that was your life. Each little fragment finding its place but revealing only a frustratingly small detail. Mia's insight kept sinking in but you felt dizzy from the unstoppable rush of thoughts and questions. Your chest brimming with mixed emotions of anger, sadness, and empathy. Running a hand through your hair, you let out the heavy breath that you had been holding in this whole time. 

Your mother’s unwavering disapproval, Beomgyu’s struggle to defend himself, and the rift that had formed between you and your childhood friend. Everything was still a mess in your head, but there was only one thing clear that you just couldn’t shake off. 

Tears blurred your view as the strong sense of clarity washed over you, sending you over the edge.

Shaking eyes searching for Mia’s, nails digging into your palms. “What have I done?” You whispered brokenly, a hand coming to rest on your face as if to stop the intense swirling of your surroundings.

“I- he surely hates me for it, doesn’t he?” You told yourself, “There is no way I can restore our friendship.” no matter how much you tried to find a way, the damage you had done seemed unfathomable. 

Mia’s eyes were solemn when she regarded you, her next phrase with a weight that you couldn’t quite comprehend. “I fear not,” She proved. An ancient sorrow tip toeing in her murmur. Although you had been the one to make the statement, having her confirm it left an unbearable pain tightening your chest.

“For the bonds of your hearts have transcended the mere boundaries of a friendship,” Mia whispered, your forehead creased into a frown. 

"What do you mean?" you pleaded, searching her eyes for clarity, but the young woman merely shook her head. “You haven’t realized it yet, have you?” 

“Realized what?” 

“The words you spoke upon finding me, were no one’s but your own, dear, reflect on that.” Not Juliet’s, but yours. The additions lingered on Mia’s tongue, although she chose not to pronounce them. Your shaken expression weighted her heart.

“I don’t understand.” You let your head fall, the curtain of your hair covering the tears that were now blurring your view.

Your friend placed a tender caress on your cheek, crouching slightly so that you would meet her gaze. “Hey,” She soothed, “Do not despair, dear, there is still time.” her eyebrows raised encouragingly as her hold on your cheeks turned into a light pinch. your cheek, making you wince. “Now go forth, do not waste any more of thy precious time!” Mia exclaimed and stepped behind you, her hands on your back, guiding you onward with a gentle push, sending you off.

Stumbling forward, you couldn’t help but cast one last look back for guidance, only to have her fretting you away with not-so-subtle gestures.

The walk back to your chamber was like stepping into the unknown blindfolded. Your gaze was distant while allowing your feet to guide you back to familiar surroundings. Time was nothing but a blur, you wondered how much time you had spent in Mia’s quarter. The burning sun had bid its farewell to the sky a long time ago. Leaving you solely the moonlight to illuminate your solitary path through the now tranquil castle. The echoes from the daytime’s hustling activity were now replaced by a peaceful quietude. Even the servants had retired for the night.

A gentle timber called your name, and you feared your heart had stopped when you hastily looked up. Your pupils dilated at the view of Beomgyu’s figure walking towards you. A worried expression rested upon his features. 

“What took you so long?” He spoke in hushed tones not to wake anyone up, “I was waiting for you but you never came. I thought something happened to you.”

His concern ignited a tender warmth within you, a flood of emotions brimming in your heart as it picked up its pace in your chest. Racing far ahead of you,  drumming against your ribs begging to be set free from its hostage.

"I... I lost track of time," you managed to say through your trembling lips. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

His expression of worry melted away with the step he took, gently dismissing your apology with a shake of his head. "I'm just relieved you're okay," he confessed, watching you from underneath his lashes. The silver glow of the moon cast a delicate shade down his cheek, while you marveled at the shimmering specks of amber swirling in his eyes.

A moment of silence followed, unspoken words weighing down on your chest.

Beomgyu’s words lingered in the air like a whispered promise, perhaps one made a long time ago. A  glimmer of two youths intertwining their pinkies in a silent vow, sealing the bond with a kiss of their thumbs flickered before your eyes. But just like a sweet dream slipping away at the crack of dawn-  it vanished before you could fully grasp it. 

With your gaze falling to the ground, you struggled to move your voice past your lips. There was so much you wanted to say.

“Beomgyu I…” You began hesitantly, forcing yourself to meet his gentle ocean eyes despite the dry lump forming in your throat. He kept quiet, silently letting you take your time to express yourself. The knowing look painted on his features told you that he’d understand no matter how much you struggled to explain yourself. 

“I am so sorry-” Your voice wavered as a tear traced its way down your cheek. “It’s all my fault.” remorse, a sad melody that had etched itself into your words as tears continued spilling from your eyes, salty and melting into your lips as you continued. 

“I don’t understand why– how I could have walked away like I did, without letting you explain yourself, that day.” Your voice a mere whisper, knuckles whitening under the pressure of your trembling fist. “I should have let you tell me the truth but I let my hurt and anger cloud me…” A trembling shiver left your mouth. “Why did I do that?” 

“I threw away our friendship, I threw away the most important thing I had, I messed up so bad, I-” Before you could continue, Beomgyu’s hand had reached out. Soft fingertips caressing your skin, catching your precious tears. 

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly, his fingers absentmindedly curling around a few strands of your hair. "I should have tried to reach out to you again after that. But I too, let my pride and stubbornness get in the way." his touch was gentle as he slowly guided the stray hairs in his hold behind your ear.

“Do you…” Your hesitation lingered in the air as the question you were afraid to ask danced on your tongue. The fear in your chest fogged your mind. Although this whole journey could have served as an answer, your heart couldn’t find its peace unless he pronounced the words himself.

 “Do you hate me for what I did?”

Beomgyu found himself melting before you, fingers slowly coming to cradle your jaw. His eyes searched yours for a moment before speaking, but your gaze shied away from his. He couldn’t help but admire the way your tears were like small crystals twinkling upon your lashes. 

"Hate you?" His voice brimmed with disbelief. "No, Y/n, never." he tilted your head ever so slightly so that you could meet his gaze, so that you wouldn’t need to doubt him again. He extended a thumb, brushing away another tear that threatened to fall. "Despite what I've told myself over and over again, for years,” A solemn smile curled his lips.

“I don’t think I ever convinced myself when I tried to believe I hated you.” Beomgyu took a small step closer, lacing one arm around your shoulders. It was like you forgot how to breathe when he guided you into his chest, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. Your hands rested upon his chest out of surprise, feeling his thumping heart against your palms and almost confusing his quick heartbeat with your own.

There was something different about the way his arms tightened around you, you sensed fear in his embrace, as if you were to disappear at any moment. As if he was afraid to wake up in the middle of this moment. The sensation of his long hair tickling your skin when he nuzzled his head into your shoulder, the familiar scent of his cologne, and the warmth of his body engulfing you. His regretful murmur when he uttered the sole words that you needed to heal your heart.

“No one could make me hate you.” 

You wished for nothing else than for this to be real.

A sob escaped your lips and you threw your arms around his neck. Beomgyu’s gentle fingertips traced a sweet path down your back, hands finding your waist. Eyes fluttering close and all you could think about was how it felt like his arms were made to embrace you. 

You had finally placed the last puzzle piece into its spot,  you had found the missing pages of your book.

You had fallen back into place.

“I missed you so much,” you whispered, ignoring the way your words muffled against his chest. Despite feeling as close as ever, Beomgyu’s embrace tightened even more, “I missed you too,” his eyes fell shut to the comfort of your hold. 

Nuzzling your face deeper into his chest, the cold air of the castle slowly dissipated, replaced by a warmth that felt oddly familiar against your eyelids– a sensation akin to the gentle embrace of sunlight. Inhaling deeply, you noted the woody and papery scent that danced its way into your senses, wrinkling your nose in response. 

You jerked away from Beomgyu with a sharp gasp, startling both him and yourself. The moonlight that had been adorning his soft features was long gone. Hence the beautiful corridor you’d been standing in was by now only a mirage of your dream as you noticed the book-filled shelves surrounding you in the remote corner of the library, illuminated by the soft glow of late sunlight filtering through dusty windows.

Beomgyu’s expression brimmed with confusion as his eyes darted around, searching for you after realizing that you were back in the university’s library. Shocked, the boy felt his arms go limp, and a loud noise reverberated against the ground. Your attention immediately bolted to the book that had slipped out of Beomgyu’s grasp, landing open on the pavement. The illustration of two ancient lovers dancing in the crowd glittered in the sun.

You wasted no time picking the book up, the adrenaline rush had your fingers trembling as you flipped over a few pages, mouth falling agape at the sight of the star-crossed lovers. Their once blank faces were now vivid with your very own features adorning them. 

“Oh my God-” You breathed incredulously, flipping page after page. Beomgyu could only stand there, watching you as he tried to reason with what he had just experienced. His trance was short-lived, interrupted by you suddenly slamming the book shut. The beetroot color that had crept upon your cheeks piqued his interest.

“What did you see?” Beomgyu inquired with his brow raised inquisitively. But your response came too quickly for his liking.

“NOTHING!” You pressed a bit too defensively, earning a few distant hushes from other visitors. His suspicions were raised upon your secretive behavior “Let me see-” he tried to grab the book but you swung your arm out of his reach. He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, a displeased pout sporting his lips. You were to be damned for letting your guard down at that moment because the next thing you knew Beomgyu had snatched the book from you. You yelped helplessly and tried to get it back but the long-haired boy was far taller than you.

The sensation of cold sweat coated your body at the thought of Beomgyu finding the pages revealing a portrayal of you and he locked in a tender kiss. A new-found heat rose to your cheeks as your heart went berserk. But the view of him delicately opening the ancient novel to inspect what had made you react in such a way awoke a sense of panic that had you blurting out a sentence you had no idea how to stand for.

“No need to search, I can just show you myself.” The casual tone in your voice baffled you to no end, because your heart was in your throat, threatening to jump out. 

Thankfully, the boy looked away from the book, not yet having found the pages you had been trying to conceal. You could spot the astonishment in his expression caused by the illustrations in the book, and you didn’t blame him, why were your faces painted on those of the lovers’? 

Despite all, his eyes still showed you his interest. “And what exactly are you going to show me?” he raised a brow. Beomgyu’s casual cockiness only fueled a sudden boldness within you. "Let me see," his persistence rang in your ears and before you even knew what you were doing, you had grabbed the collar of his shirt. Pulling him close with a determination you hadn't known you possessed– shutting your eyes tightly, you crashed your lips on top of his. The boy stumbled forward, eyes wide at your sudden action, though his lips had acted on their own as they had responded to yours right away. His soft pillows eagerly nipped on yours for a mere moment before you parted from him, releasing his now wrinkled shirt from your hold. 

“That’s what I saw in the book.” You averted your gaze down to your feet, pressing your lips into a thin line.

A shy pink dusted his cheeks, gaze fastened on you, he could not bring himself to look away. His chest rose with the ragged breaths puffing out of his swollen lips. 

“You kiss by the book,” he gasped incredulously, a cheerful laugh bubbling in his throat. Your head whipped in his direction, tummy fluttering at the familiar words he’d used. You watched him throw his head back in delight as his body shook with laughter, finding yourself getting completely absorbed into the joy that sprouted from him, you couldn’t stop the chuckles that escaped your lips.  

You couldn't help but admire his smile, the way it lit up his entire face, the way his pretty eyes crinkled into twinkling half-moons. It had been so long since you had seen that smile directed towards you, and it made you feel complete.

You had no idea what kind of magic had danced on Mr. Kim’s fingertips when he slid that assignment paper on your desk, with yours and Beomgyu’s names written next to each other in red ink. But it was almost like he’d taken the red threads of your fates and tied them back together after that the two of you had let it come undone.

Now Beomgyu knew, you knew– that dreams were like magic. They appeared, tickled, and sparked a twinkle in your hearts, only to disappear just as quickly as it had appeared.

You had lost each other for so long, but you had finally found each other again under the same dream, under the same stars that had brought the two youths together through a love that transcended every boundary. 

Perhaps your fates had been written by the very same hands. 

Perhaps you were them.

You took his hand in yours, feeling its warmth like the sunset glow, painting you in its vivid colors. 

"I dreamt a dream today," Beomgyu murmured as he threaded his fingers through yours.

 "And so did I." You met his gaze knowingly.

“Well, what was yours?” A sweet smile started to curl his lips.

“That dreamers speak their heart’s truth.”

a/n: ooh my god I finally did it! here it is and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as possible!! I had so much fun writing this and I hope it was just as fun reading! this is probably one of my most dramatic pieces and I had to stop myself while writing and question where all the drama was coming from but duh!! It's literally Romeo and Juliet hello??.

anyway!! I would appreciate your thoughts on it a lot <33 I'm really curious to know how this idea I've had brewing in my head for years came out and is perceived by all of you! do not be shy and pls share your thoughts with me &lt;333

Important disclaimer!

I do not own the story or characters of Romeo and Juliet, full credit to Shakespeare who invented them.

I also used some of the dialogue from the actual script in modern English which I will be linking in this text!

so! if you made it all the way down here, I just want to thank you for sticking with me and for taking the time to read this piece! It means a lot to me. You're amazing<33

much love, p.

taglist: @wave2tyun @binluvsu @shutupheathersorryheatherr @20crowsinahoodie @woncheecks @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @20-cms @endeav0rsb1tch @todosmash @scatterbraincutie @zzhyuu @sweetstraberrybear @deabird @iluvkyo @lunathewritingcat @vivienne2000 @sunny4cast @lun4kazumii @be0mgyusbestie @yjdni @roseyposeylemonsquozey @beomgyuspeach @glossykai

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[romanarose]

Not a Goodbye...

But a shift.

I will not mince words, things are shit right now in the Pedro Pascal fandom.

For me though, nothings been the same since April. My notes DROPPED and never recovered. I'v been blocked by pages I never interacted with and people who used to be mutuals want nothing to do with me.

Things Ive been informed I've been blocked for is darking dark, using adult shoes in a header that everyone said were kids feet (they weren't), being Jewish so I must support genocide (im not im a hopeful convert and I've been very vocal about the genocide), supporting a terrorist organization and being anti semetic (I'm not, again, hopeful convert and I'm very vocal about anti semitism), fetishizing gay men as a "girl" (I am not a girl) etc.

It's just not fun anymore.

The Pedro fandom has given me a LOT. I've met many, many wonderful friends here who are just great people and friendships I hope last. Even ones that dont i value forever.

But i think my time here isn't what it once was. I feel safer and happier in the oscar issac side, or blogging about bruce springsteen, or star wars. I've decided to reshift my focus back to OScar Isaac/Triple frontier writing.

What will change?

Not a lot to start. In fact you might see even more P boy content at first! I have a few things I wanna finish writing. I need to finish blessed by the fruit, and a few WIPS i have, including super angsty Joel's

ROF will continue but Im gonna keep writing laregly TF fanfiction so that wouldn't change

You'll still see Frankie around as i love TF but it maybe more FishBen. Sorry to everyone who says I fetishize gay men ig

I might write more on characters around p boys. Tommy Miller, Steve murphy

And if I have an idea I love, if I wanna write it, I'll write it!

Currently I have 2 joel one shot wips i wanna get out

I deleted the tumblr app, I need to decompress. Im still here with my laptop when im at home, but less access. Just for a day or a few, nothing big.

I wanna work on my original works, including Mariposa and my TWW rewrite, stolen lullaby! I'll be posting less between that, the Zine, and this semester ill be in school full time and working full time plus part time.

follow @romana-updates to keep updated.

I love each and every person I've made friends with or interact with around this side of tumblr! If you dont wanna follow me due to lack of joel coming up, thats okay! I hope you had fun while you were here!

[lcvesjj]

Bad Omens - Deacon Kay x Fem!Reader

Based on the song “Bad Omens” by 5SOS

This is part of my ‘song fics’ series :)

Summary : You'd always come in second place to Annie. Maybe you were right. This relationship was a mistake and you should've listened to the warnings. Since he'll always love somebody else..

Warnings : angst, angst, angst & once again angst. no happy ending, breakups, (Deacon gets back w Annie), in this fic Annie & Deacon don't have kids !!!, heart break, talks/mentions of cheating?

NOT BETA READ!

A/n : the fanfic writer curse has really been kicking my ass recently :’) so I wasn’t posting any fics for a while bc of it. But anyways enjoy and as always this is just based on my interpretation of the song/lyrics :) (yes I am incapable of writing a happy ending currently🥲) I might rewrite this someday since I'm not 100% happy with how this has turned out.

word count : 672

song fic masterlist

regular masterlist

Honestly you should've seen it coming. You always knew you'd come second place to Annie. Deacon's high school sweetheart and “one true love”

Deacon always talked about her a lot since they were still good “friends” Even his coworkers would talk about her a lot. You knew you could never compare to Annie, since she was prettier and smarter and just- more Deacon’s type….

You tried your best to get along with Deacon’s friends, since you loved him so much and you wanted this relationship to work out. 

One day you decided to visit Deacon at the SWAT HQ and bring the team some cookies. Walking towards the HQ kitchen you overheard Deacon talking about you. Pausing you stood still listening in to what was being said. 

“I mean I love Y/n but- she's just not Annie yknow? Annie was always so happy and sweet while I feel like recently Y/n has been pulling away from me. What if she's cheating on me?” Deacon said aloud. He had no idea you heard him. You could feel like crying and your heart dropped to your stomach hearing his words. The man you loved so deeply just accused you of cheating on him.

Quickly turning on your heel you rushed out of HQ still holding the plate with cookies you brought. Getting into your car you drove away towards a nearby beach to sit and think.

You always felt like you were in second place in David's life, but hearing him accuse you of cheating just made you feel even worse. Maybe agreeing to this relationship knowing how much he still liked Annie was a mistake...

Deciding to pull out your phone you sent him a quick text saying “We need to talk. It's important.” Before putting your phone on ‘do not disturb’ and driving home. 

Deacon was already waiting at home for you with a worried look on his face and upon seeing you he started asking a million questions as to where you were. 

“I think we should break up.”

You interrupted him, Deacon's face fell and he looked hurt and confused. “But I thought-” You just shook your head no. “This isn't working. I'll never be first place for you. It'll always be Annie since she's your first and only true love. I overheard what you said at the station and I just can't keep doing this. I can't keep on feeling like I'm less important to you.” You said while wiping away a few tears. 

“Y/n sweetheart….that's not true. I love you and you're my number one girl. Annie is just a friend to me. I've known her for so long it wouldn't make sense for me to just cut her off suddenly.” Deacon said while frowning. 

“I'm done. I'm sorry Deac, I'll go pack my things now. I'll come grab the rest of my stuff tomorrow.” You said while heading further into the house and towards your shared bedroom before grabbing a bag and packing some essentials while Deacon just watched with pure heartbreak and anguish written all over his face. “But we can still be friends right?” He asked nervously to which you shook your head. 

“I think it's for the best if for now we don't contact or see each other for some time.” You replied while zipping up your bag. “I'm sorry David.” You said softly while kissing his cheek one last time before heading out of the door. 

It wasn't fair to either you or Deacon. You knew he always loved Annie more. I mean she's perfect…

-

A few weeks later Deacon and Annie started to date again and seeing their new photos on the social media platforms you were still following Deacon on, you felt like crying. You always knew it would probably end up like this. You'd get your heart broken and Deacon would end up with Annie. But at least you broke the cycle of constantly getting your heart broken every time Deacon sang praises about Annie right…?