#a couple others did as well and the 4 of us washed all those goddamn dishes. took us till 1am

[tealfruit]

it's not actually difficult to get me to work hard, or maybe not hard but generally well at least, all you have to do is be a decent person who does their own job and treat me and others with respect and I will be ride or die for you

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Ten Years (ch. 4)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Content warnings: cursing, smut, nsfw, penetrative sex, car sex, public sex?, hair pulling

a/n: this is literally just porn. remember to use protection, only have sex in private if car sex is illegal in your state, and never drive after drinking.

   Maybe your relationship hit a bit of an unexplained rough patch. But you and Spencer have always been more than a typical couple. You've gotten through worse, this is just a step to start re-igniting the love you've spent years growing and nurturing. The dress you choose is a dark, plum purple. It hugs your curves, stopping a few inches above the knees. You pair it with a set of diamond earrings and a wine red lipstick. Slipping into a pair of glossy black high heels, you complete the look with a sleek, half up, half down hairstyle. Not to sound conceited, but... you look fucking hot. And ready for your date.

Spencer takes a deep, steady breath as he adjusts his tie in the mirror. It's his first date with you and he has to pretend it's a regular thing. Good luck with that, he scoffs to himself. When you step out of the bedroom, his jaw drops. He'd only seen you outside of work attire 4 times. You smirk seeing how his eyes glue to you, taking you in like a work of art.

"How do I look?" you ask confidently, already knowing the answer.

"Perfect." he breathes out.

"You look okay too," you laugh. "Now let's go."

Placing a kiss to his flushed cheek, you leave the apartment and get into the car. It's surreal to him, that you remember little things like how he doesn't like to drive. You speak to him and look at him with genuine love.

"Reservation for two, Spencer Reid." He tells the woman at the front. She escorts you to a small booth and takes your orders.

"We haven't done this in a while," you laugh, opening the menu in front of you.

"I want to." Spencer blurts out, confusing you a bit. "Do this, I mean. You're everything to me, Y/N. I'll do anything to make you happy like you deserve."

Speechless, you meet his gaze and give him a flustered smile.

"You know how you sound right now?"

"How?" he prompts.

"Like you did when we went on our first date," you reach to hold his hand and laugh. "We're already married, no need to charm me babe."

He beams and takes your hand.

"I know, I know but I love you. It's important to me that you know that."

"Well I've known that since like, the day we met but I love you too."

He has to do a double take, realizing what you said.

"Wait since... Y/N," he clears his throat. "How long before we became uh-- romantically involved, were you aware of my feelings for you?"

"Quite the profiler, aren't you?"

It's crazy, all these years and you really haven't talked about it? You thought you had but he's the one with the eidetic memory... he would know. The waitress returns with your food and you start to recount how his small crush had first become apparent.

"Spence, it was pretty obvious when you stumbled your way through an introduction on my first day. Then there were the stares when you thought I wasn't looking, the awkward smiles, the not-so-subtle jealousy when someone hit on me." A reminiscing smile grazes your lips as you recall the early stages as your relationship and heat rises to Spencer's neck and face. Noticing, you reassure him.

"Don't be embarassed, that was years ago. And clearly I thought it was cute since I married you."

For reasons you couldn't possibly understand, he's humiliated. Did his Y/N really know exactly how he felt about her? Then it turns to a sense of giddy happiness, realizing you return those feelings.

"Why'd it take so long for us to happen?"

A scoff distracts you from your dinner as you shake your head.

"My guess is we were both a little too fucked up to do anything about it. Your dumb, genius ass thought I'd reject you and my dumb, non-genius ass was too scared to commit. But it all worked out just fine, didn't it?"

"It did," he agrees with a sense of sweet euphoria filling him. "I'm eternally grateful for that."

Something in the air, something between you is drawing you to each other in a way you've never felt.

"Spence."

You gaze at him with a fierce desire and he gets the message.

"Check please!"

   Stumbling into the backseat of your car, Spencer grips a handful of your hair sternly while pushing his mouth into the most passionate of kisses. All the while your hands fumble to unbutton his dress shirt. He licks his lips as he examines your far too clothed body. You're thrown back onto the seat and his slender fingers explore your body, tongue still blitzing yours in firey love. A premature wine-flavored moan slips your throat into his when he squeezes your thigh delicately. While you grapple with his belt hastily, he pulls the straps of your dress down your shoulders to expose your breasts. Exposed and writhing, he attaches an open mouth to your neck trailing down to your breast causing you to gasp loudly. Spencer wraps his lips around your nipple and suckles, washing you with bliss. You use your free hand to palm his length, causing him to groan before lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. Having never felt the sensation of unraveling a woman, especially you, into such a pretty mess he instantly sighs in comfort feeling your warm wetness drip down your thighs.

Wait. Fuck. That's a problem, isn't it? He was a dorky virgin when you met. A cute dorky virgin, but still a dorky virgin. Just go with it, he tells himself. It's what you'd say if you knew.

Bursting with sudden affirmation, he lines up his cock up to your soaking slit and enters you. His head rolls back in immense pleasure and he almost forgets to actually fuck you. You moan with the first heavenly thrust and dig your nails into his firm backside.

"Oh my god, Spencer." you roll out in a syrupy haze.

His pace quickens and he tugs at your hair. Th sound of his supple skin slapping against your body paired with your love coated moans crystallizes the atmosphere.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so pretty," he lets out more filthy strings of praises and groans louder.

"Spence, I'm so close," you practically whine.

It isn't just sex, it's true love-making and expression and you're gravitating with pure bodily harmony.

"Almost there, let go for me baby."

His words send you over the edge and waves of felicity spin through you. Your pussy's walls tighten around his dick, prompting more stretched out moaning and grasping. Red lines of love streak Spencer's back while you ride out your orgasm. The ecstasy of what you did radiates, leaving heavy breathing and dopey grins evident.

"Goddamn, Y/N." he sighs contently, dressing himself and trying to smooth his now wrinkled clothes in the limited space of the car. You open the car door and drive home, giggling and floating from absolute love all the way. Leaving your heels in the hall, you and Spencer make your way to the bed not bothering to change out of your dress clothes. Burying yourself in his neck happily, he holds you firmly and you drift off to sleep together.

Beep. Beep.

Spencer wakes up, slightly irritated by the alarm beside him.

"Morning love," he mumbles before he realizes you aren't in bed with him. Shifting, he runs a hand through his hair and yawns wondering where you are.

"Y/N?"

You don't respond but his phone chimes, indicating he's received a text.

No, god no.

You have to be fucking kidding me, he screams internally.

8:04 AM

Wednesday, July 30th, 2005

New message:

Y/N

Reid, everything okay? JJ's presenting the case in a few minutes. Call when you're on your way.

It wasn't a dream, he can say that without a doubt. He spent a week ten fucking years from now. He isn't insane, it happened. He stares in disbelief at his phone.

He... He should get ready for work shouldn't he?

[xpeachesncream]

Hey Nikki! Could you do a perfectly wrong drabble of reader thinking she is pregnant? thank you <3

perfectly wrong | drabble [10]: why are there multiple kinds of pregnancy tests for Taehyung to decide between?

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cussing, implied sexual content, pregnancy scare (use protection and use protection well, folks!)

note: this ended up being a little longer than i thought lol sorry! hope you enjoy still. i also just whipped this up before going to bed so this is pretty raw - excuse any mistakes pls. love me still 🥺

"Fuck!" You yelled as you ran to the bathroom as a huge wave of nausea hit you yet once again this morning. You were abruptly woken up early in the morning due to the feeling, not getting much rest after the first time you hurled last night's dinner into the toilet bowl. Taehyung had just walked into your apartment, mouth slightly open as he furrowed his brows watching you run off to the bathroom.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He says, swinging the bathroom door open as you dry-heaved into the bowl, curse words trailing shortly after. He crouches to your level, rubbing your back and holding your hair out of the way.

"I don't know, I just woke up feeling--" He watched as you threw your head back into the toilet bowl, a little bit of the water you had taken down earlier coming back up. "Really shitty." You continue after you spit.

"Shit, did you eat anything bad yesterday?"

"I don't think so? Nothing seemed suspicious." You pointed at him weakly. "And you look perfectly dandy being that we ate at the same places." You rested your back against the wall, eyeing how god-like your boyfriend looked.

"I'm sorry, love." He pouted. "You okay to get up now? Let's get you in bed and I can run out to grab whatever you need me to grab." You sat there, pondering on your thoughts for a second. The food you ate last night didn't seem bad, but also you never know. However, you were starting to freak out mainly because of the countless, amazing, 'let me rearrange your guts' type of sex you've been having with your boyfriend. That thought always has to be taken into consideration.

"What's the date today?" Taehyung quickly whips out his phone to check the date on his lockscreen.

"The 20th. Why?" Your eyes widened. You were supposed to get your period 5 days ago. Albeit, you've always been on a weird, irregular schedule ever since you were younger. Getting on birth control somewhat helped regulate that, but lately it hadn't been wonky. You usually got it on the 15th. "Why, baby?" His eyes started to widen.

"I'm late, Tae. I should've gotten my period 5 days ago."

"Okay, let's not panic. We can't assume just yet, right?" He begins to slightly freak out, but he's doing his best to keep his emotions in check. He was worried as hell now, not only because you were hurting but because this?

Lord, please. If you get me out of this one, I won't slap Y/N's ass ever again.

Don't get him wrong, he really wanted to be a father. He had always dreamed of having a good sized family with the love of his life. But right at this moment? He wasn't ready. You weren't ready. You both were just trying to survive school and that was already work on its own.

"Right." You say, but you're fucking screaming internally. Jesus fucking christ?!

"Let's get you in bed. I'll grab you some gatorade and soup while you get some more rest." He says, helping you up. You loved his cologne and taking in his scent, but today you couldn't deal. You sat on the edge of your bed, immediately grabbing the trash can next to your night stand and puked a little bit more acid.

"God, I'm so tired. Let this be ooooover." You whined as Tae tucked you into your sheets and wiped your face clean with a warm, wet towel. He folded it in half, placing the towel onto your forehead to help regulate your temperature as much as possible.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I hate seeing you like this." He kisses you on the cheek. "Don't drink water just yet, it doesn't seem like you can keep it down. I'll come back right away, okay? Try to get some sleep."

"Can you grab a test?" He swallows the lump in his throat.

"Yeah, of course." He smiles toothlessly, watching as your eyes slowly droop and shut close, the exhaustion from all this effort hitting you out of nowhere. Tae was worried sick, and he honestly wished he could snap his fingers so that the things you need would just appear and he wouldn't have to leave you alone.

He gets to the closest convenience store that would have everything you needed in one place. He grabs you a few bottles of gatorade, making sure to grab you the blue Glacier Freeze bottles because he remembers you saying that's the only flavor you grew up drinking. He grabs a couple of ingredients to whip you up some chicken noodle soup later once you're able to tolerate the gatorade at the very least. He also grabs a few unnecessary things like snacks for you both [mainly him cause it's based off of his own cravings right now] and then makes his way over to the aisle that has the condoms and pregnancy tests.

Tests?

Multiple kinds?

How the fuck is he supposed to know? Does one differ by the other much? They all look like the same fucking stick. They all look like that game of pick up sticks.

His eyes go from one box to another, mouth slightly hanging from how overwhelmed he is right now. This one says 6 days sooner, but the other box has two sticks for the price of one? He's assuming that's a nice safety blanket to have an extra stick confirm your results. But there's also one box with two sticks AND the 6 days sooner message.

Then a box with 4 sticks?

"Hooooly mother of pearl, fuck it." He says, grabbing the one with 4 sticks and the 6 day message. That's the gold for him. It makes him feel a little better knowing he could look at all 4 sticks. Does Y/N even have enough pee for this? He's about to make his way out of the aisle when he passes the condoms and lube.

Heh, no lube cause I make my girl hella wet already.

But condoms? After today, he was highly thinking about it. But lord knows how much he'd hate to have to wrap it up like that. Condoms are for sure your friends, but that raw feeling when he's inside the girl he truly loves - Exquisite. Chef’s kiss. Absolutely irreplaceable.

He eyes the boxes one more time before a little elderly lady walks past him in the aisle. She looks at him, smiles, then looks at the condoms before looking down at his basket with the pregnancy tests.

"A little late for that, don't you think?" She chuckles as she jokes to herself.

Well, damn? Like that??

He purses his lips into a fine line before rushing out of the aisle and making his way to the self-checkout lanes. He quickly checks out, not realizing he had gotten a little distracted from his own thoughts.

Getting back to your place, he notices you're still sound asleep. He takes your trash out and dumps it down the trash slot outside of your door. He cleans up a little in your living room, folding your blankets neatly and lighting your favorite candle. He washes the dishes left in your sink as he waits for the stove to heat up. He starts to whip up that chicken noodle soup for you so it would be ready.

Once he's done, he grabs a bottle of gatorade and sits on the edge of your bed, gently brushing the hair out of your face.

"Here baby, drink some." He says, handing you the opened bottle. You stir in your position, sitting upright in order to get some of the gatorade into your system. You hope you can keep it down and make some progress. "I got you the tests." He shows you the box with 4 sticks.

"Damn, babe. Four sticks?" He clicks his teeth and points a finger gun at you.

"The more the merrier, amirite?"

"I should probably do those now." You take your time standing up with Tae right beside you, making sure you don't get dizzy or lose your balance. In the bathroom, you stand and stare at the box for a little, reality kind of settling in for you. This is actually happening right now.

"Hey, whatever happens, I'll be right here, okay? We'll figure this out." He reassures you, giving a kiss on the side of your head as you silently nod and open the box. You sit on the toilet, Tae helping you swap out the sticks until you no longer need to pee. He sets the aside the sink carefully, putting on a timer on his phone.

"Fuck. I can't just sit here and watch." You dig your head into your hands.

"I almost bought condoms." He chuckles, trying to brighten the mood.

"Taehyung and condoms? No way. My boyfriend would never."

"I would if absolutely necessary - and by absolutely necessary, I mean like today o’clock." You shoot him a look, the statement only heightening your anxiety. "But! I didn't, okay! We'll be fine, we can't assume."

"You're pulling out next time."

"I mean if you let me bust my load on your—"

"No, you're gonna cum in your own fucking hands after today." You furrow your eyebrows angrily.

"Baby." He laughs. "That's no fun."

"Taehyung, we're sitting in my bathroom waiting for four pregnancy tests to show their results!" His timer goes off and suddenly you feel sick again.

"I guess we'll find out if I'm daddy in a few minutes." You smack him on the chest.

"Don't ever."

"Please, ladies first." He nods towards the sticks.

"You!"

"Why me?"

"It's your sperm that did this!"

"Woah m'lady, it takes two to tango!"

"Pick up the goddamn sticks." He clicks his teeth.

"Fuck, fine!" He picks up the stick. "Oh my god, baby." He says, gasping with his mouth agape.

That's it. You're gonna fucking cry. Everything is turning into white noise. Yes, you wanted a family but all of this shit was happening so quickly you couldn't even—

"You're not pregnant." He says in the same dramatic tone.

"I'm going to fight you!" You shriek at him, grabbing the sticks to double check. You see one single line across all four sticks, causing you to breathe a sigh of relief. You start to cry a little, causing Taehyung to laugh and pull you into a hug. He knows how stressed you just were and he knows this moment alone must have taken a lot out of you. He can't help but wanna cuddle you in his arms for the rest of the day.

"Oh never again, love."

"Don’t get me wrong. I wanna have your babies but I’m not ready to right now."

"I fully agree, 100%."

"I'll call my doctor tomorrow just to make sure we're in the clear." He nods.

"Feeling a little better?" You shake your head.

"Honestly, I still feel like shit."

"Go sit in bed, I'll bring the bowl of soup to you." He kisses you on the nose. "I love you."

"I love you, too." And that's what you do - sit in bed while your man brings your bowl of soup that he delicately prepared over so you can get something in your system. Luckily, you were able to hold both that and the gatorade down and that's what your diet consisted of for the rest of the day.

The good ol' doc says it's nothing but a dumb stomach bug and that your birth control is just playing mind games with you, showing you the results to confirm the negative pregnancy test. He demands you take it easy and get lots of love in the mean time until you fully recover from whatever thing you ate that day that wasn't prepared carefully.

You live and you learn. Life is all about that, right?

"Never again, Tae."

"We don't mean that." He whines as he chases after you walking towards the car.

"You try being in my shoes during a pregnancy scare then!"

[sometimesitrytowritethings]

Mountain Man: Part 1

PART 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

Notes: A MASSIVE THANK YOU to @morgans-whore for helping me out with this!!! If you haven’t read their work, please do so immediately. Also goddamn it I WILL figure out how to insert a read more break on mobile if it kills me.

------

Smithfield’s Saloon was a bustling, loud mess when you entered, as was typical for a Friday evening in the small town of Valentine. The place was only a couple of years old, fully built from the timber milled in nearby Strawberry and lit by strategically placed oil lamps, giving it a sepia-toned glow that you could bask in all evening. Several tables were scattered about the sparsely-decorated room, a larger one covered in green cloth currently hosting a nightly low-stakes poker game.

You made your way inside, taking off your light jacket since escaping the mild chill in the air and scanned the room, looking for your friends in the crowd. The piano man was playing one of the four songs in his repertoire, The Arkansas Traveller, as Quentin, the barber, swayed slightly in time to the music at his normal post in the back, beer in hand, and speaking to one of the saloon’s regular patrons. Jon, the old drunk, was sitting at his usual table, downing a bottle of whisky and ranting about something or other. After years of enduring his presence, you had finally been able to tune him out. Jedadiah, the bartender, nodded your way as your gaze wandered past him before serving Tommy, who seemed to already be well into his cups, another glass of whisky.

Dozens of other familiar faces were scattered about the room as you scanned it, finally spotting the two women chatting with two unfamiliar men at the end of the bar. After a rather long week working across the street at Saints Hotel, cooking, running baths, cleaning, and washing a couple of particularly unruly patrons, your good friends Anastasia and Margaret had invited you over to their place of work for a few drinks - on the house.

“Evening Anastasia, Margaret,” you call over the din of piano music, clinking glasses, and loud conversations. Anastasia was a freckled, firey redhead who was almost always getting into trouble. As was typical for an evening on the job, her white chemise was pushed down low on her chest, revealing her ample cleavage to entice more of the men into paying for a night with her. Margaret, on the other hand, was of a slimmer build and had lovely dark brown hair, pulled away from her doe-eyed face. She was always ready to flirt with anyone she sees and crack jokes on the regular, which definitely worked on many a man over the course of her career as a working girl. These women were two of the first friends you made when moving to Valentine with your soon-to-be husband almost a decade ago. They had been working at Keane’s back then, the older saloon down the street, but have since moved to the wealthier spot when it opened a few years ago.

They both look toward you and becon you over. “Hey hun, these handsome gentlemen are Javier and Charles. They’ve just come into town, isn’t that right?” Margaret explained, putting her hand on Charles’s bicep and giving it a flirty squeeze as she batted her lashes.

You gave a small snort and glanced over at the men. The one introduced as Charles had long, dark hair, dark skin, and shining brown eyes. He was very obviously an outdoorsman, slightly bulky and built for spending time in nature, wearing a tattered light blue shirt cinched at the hips by a gun belt. He nodded at you, but said nothing and took a sip of his whisky, eyeing you over the rim of the glass. Javier, on the other hand, took your hand from across the corner of the bar and gave it a quick kiss. Also dark-haired, his was cut significantly shorter and tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, Javier was slightly leaner than his companion, and was dressed in finer clothes - a charmer, no doubt.

They were both very handsome men, indeed, but you recognized Margaret’s tactic from a mile away: butter up the new ones with enough complements, keep them well in their liquor, and they’ll be coming back to you every night for their entire stay. You raised a hand to the bartender, ordering a round of whisky for the group.

“Why thank you, Mariposa,” crooned Javier, picking up the drink and nodding at you over the rim of the cup.

You laughed. “No need to try that with me, I don’t work here,” you teased, raising your glass to him before taking a long drink of your whisky. Jedadiah has given you the higher-quality bottle this time - good. Javier let out a laugh and went back to speaking with Anastasia, leaving you to sip your drink in silence for the time being. The slight burning sensation warmed your throat and then worked its way down to your belly, easing away the stress of the previous week. There really was nothing like a good glass to take the edge off.

As you finished your first drink, the door to the saloon suddenly swung open, drawing the attention of your companions. All four turned to face the new patron, the women leaning against the bar as the two men moved to greet their friend.

“Oh! Arthur!” called Charles, waving his hand towards the bar to summon him over.

“Arthur, come here, come here! Come over here! I want you to meet our friends.” Javier called and moved from the bar to smack his friend on the back. You turned as well, leaning your right side against the bar, drink still in hand, and taking in the handsome new patron.

He was average height, but bulkier than his friends - a powerhouse made of pure muscle. You were sure he could break you in half if you let him. His light brown hair was brushed haphazardly away from his face, which was slightly tanned from days spent in the sun. As you slowly dragged your eyes across his face you noticed two small scars on his chin, where his beard wouldn’t grow. His eyes, an alarming shade of teal, narrowed as he looked over your group, like something was missing.

“Pleased to meet ya,” he drawled, his voice deep and husky, likely from the combination of years on the road and smoking plenty of tobacco. His hands went to his hips, and he looped his fingers through his belt, looking around the room.

Anastasia seemed awestruck and was ready to dive in and cause plenty of trouble to get this man’s attention. The other two could wait for now. “Well ain’t you just the tough as teak mountain man?” she flirted, leaning against the counter and pushing out her chest so her bust was closer to eye-level.

“Oh, you be quiet Anastasia,” Margaret chided, also wanting a bite of the newcomer. “Anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat.” There it was. Margaret had tried one of her usual godawful jokes that somehow seemed to land her a client every time, and you tried your best not to laugh. Instead, you raised your glass to your lips, only to find it empty.

“Exactly!” Javier cut in. You turned to Jeb and held up your empty glass, which he promptly came over to refill. “He’s a pussy… cat. Ain’t that so, Arthur?” This time you did laugh, a very loud and uncomfortable snort that you couldn’t stop if you had tried.

You drew your refilled glass quickly to your lips, trying your best to cover for yourself. The new man glanced your way shortly before turning back to the other two women. If anyone else had noticed, they didn’t say anything.

The new man, Arthur, stepped a little closer to the group, looking your friends up and down. “How much you cost anyway?”

Anastasia, for some reason seemed genuinely offended, shock immediately overtaking her face. “Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady?” she snapped, though you weren’t sure why. She was a prostitute after all.

Arthur leaned closer, an almost manic grin on his face. “Oh, I didn’t know I was talking to a lady…” he teased. You immediately knew what he was up to. He needed his friends alone, and didn’t have the decency to just ask. Luckily, two could play at his game.

Anastasia balked. Sure, she wasn’t a ‘lady’ like those rich women in New York or San Denis, but she deserved at least a modicum of respect. She scoffed angrily and walked off with a grumbled, “excuse me,” pushing her way past the man, before glancing back at you to see if you were coming. You nodded, you’d be with them in a second. There was no need to stay in the bar and drink, you had plenty of liquor back at home. But before you leave, you may as well get the last word with the man who had, surprisingly accurately, insulted your friends.

“Oh, it’s alright, Anastasia,” you called after her, staying in position at the corner of the bar. You pointedly looked Arthur up and down before speaking again. “This one couldn’t afford one of us anyway,” you tossed at him with a wink over the rim of your glass. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly took a drink.

Like a predator preparing to pounce on its prey, he moved slowly toward you, sizing you up. “That so?” he drawled, slowly dragging his eyes from where your feet were crossed at the hem of your skirt, to your hips leaning against the side of the bar, to your chest, where he paused for just a moment.

“Oh, most definitely,” was your response, accompanied by a practiced smirk. You may not have been a working girl in the saloon, but your years offering deluxe baths at the hotel across the street had given you more than enough practice at charming men. Even ruggedly handsome men who were likely to make you weak in the knees like this one.

His eyes snapped back up to yours as you spoke, a matching smirk gracing his lips. “Why don’t we see about that?” he teased, reaching for what you presumed was money in his satchel. If you had thought his voice was husky before, it was nothing in comparison to how it sounded now. Sultry, eager.

Before you could even begin to think of a response, you heard your name being called by Anastasia, who was standing impatiently at the door with Margaret at her side. “Are you coming?”

You felt the heat rise to your face as soon as the moment was over, but magically kept your composure. “Sorry, it turns out that my shift just ended,” you hummed, reaching up to straighten out his collar. Your fingers lightly brushed his skin and you swore he tensed and took in a sharp breath in that moment. Next, you gave him a light pat on the shoulder and started to walk away. You only had to remember not to look back.

Hips swaying, you headed towards the door, stopping briefly to grab your jacket from the coat hook along the way. “See you around, gentlemen,” you called, swinging the door open and stepping out into the cool night air, feeling his eyes on you the entire time. Perfect.

Anastasia and Margaret followed you out in a huff, brushing past another stranger who was staggering up the steps and into the saloon.

The walk back to the local boarding house, where you had been staying with your son for the past few years, was luckily a short one. However, almost the entire 10 minutes were filled with complaints from the other two women about the “uncivilised” and “incredibly rude” man, effectively ruining any hopes you had of continuing a fun evening with your friends.

“It’s such a surprise that he’s friends with those other two. They just seem so sweet, and he’s such a… such a brute!” ranted Anastasia, looking from Margaret to you for confirmation. “He’s got those ruggedly handsome looks, sure but, by god! How dare he talk to me like that! Can you even believe it?”

You wanted to laugh, but held it in. Your friend was already upset, there was no need to make it worse. Luckily, before you needed to say anything, Margaret cut in. “I know! What was he thinkin’? Even insinuatin’ you wasn’t a lady! You are the most ladylike woman in this town, Anastasia,” she rattled on, wrapping an arm around her friend’s shoulders.

You did the same out of solidarity and played with a strand of her red hair. The three of you walked further, arms around Anastasisa’s shoulders. “He just wanted to get his friends alone, you know,” you told her after a few minutes of her angry silence, before moving your hand and squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. “He only said those things because he knows you two already had his friends wrapped around your fingers and they certainly weren’t about to leave,” you further elaborated with a wink to the redhead. Who knows if that was true, but it would most definitely make Anastasia feel better.

She sighed, her shoulders shrugging, and looked wistfully in the distance. “Yeah, I s’pose you’re right,” came her response. “We did have them on the hook pretty quick, didn’t we?”

“Oh, absolutely!” chimed in Margaret with excitement as you reached the large blue house on the outskirts of town. You glanced quickly to the second floor, and spotted your window. It was dark inside. “And it’ll be real easy to reel them in again tomorrow.”

The three of you burst into a fit of giggles as you reached the front porch. You dropped your arm from Anastasia’s shoulders and gave both women hug. “I think Ben is asleep, so I may turn in as well, if you two don’t mind.” The both nodded and hugged you back, saying quiet farewells and making their way further down the dirt road to their own homes.

The door opened with a slight creek as you stepped inside the dark house. It was a rather large house for this area, meant to house several farmworkers at the time it was built. Since then, a hotel and several other larger homes have popped up closer to town, leaving this one nearly empty most of the time. You rented a decent sized room on the second floor, and had done so for nearly five years running. It wasn’t luxury accommodation by any means, but it was away from the hustle and bustle of town, and it was more than affordable on your meager salary. Not to mention, the landlady had been a good friend of your late mother-in-law, and had been happy to offer your family a place to stay at a decent price, in exchange for occasional work around the house. Quietly, stepping over the floorboard that you knew let out a loud squeak when moved, you shrugged off your jacket, listening for the sounds of small footsteps pattering about on the second floor. Nothing.

What you did hear, however, were the sounds of a conversation coming from the kitchen. You walked down the dimly lit hallway to the room, where you found your landlady sitting at the table with a stranger. Your landlady, Ms. Chadwick, an older woman with a perpetually frustrated look on her face, sat in her nightgown, nursing a cup of hot coffee while the stranger looked over a piece of paper that had been laid in front of her on the table.

She was a pretty woman, about the same age as yourself, with dark brown hair neatly plaited down her back and clear, tanned skin, that almost glowed in the lamplight. Her clothes were obviously expensive and well cared for, and a pair of small, matching suitcases sat at her feet. Her nimble fingers with clean, neatly trimmed nails skimmed over the short paragraph on the paper. This was very obviously a woman who had never worked a day in her life. What on earth was she doing in Valentine, of all places?

“Thank you very much for the use of the spare room,” she said to the landlady, her voice boasted a light southern accent, like that of the debutantes in San Denis. “Your home is lovely, and little Ben is an absolute darling. I do so love staying in homes instead of hotels when I can and, of course, I am happy to help out where I can while I am here.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary dear,” she chided. “Your pay is more than enough. Please relax and enjoy your time here as much as you can. You don’t need any more stress on your shoulders.”

As Ms. Chadwick finished her sentence, the stranger seemed to notice your appearance in the doorway. “Oh!” she exclaimed, though keeping her voice down slightly. “You must be Ben’s mother! It’s wonderful to meet you. Your son and Ms. Chadwick greeted me this afternoon when I arrived, he’s a lovely little boy.” She stood up from her chair, skirts billowing around her ankles, and reached out to kiss both of your cheeks in what you had heard was a customary French greeting.

Although you were slightly taken aback by her forward attitude, the comment about your son brought a smile to your face. “Thank you very much. I like to think I’ve taught him well so far,” your responded, pulling slightly away from the new woman and introducing yourself.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said, voice sweet and still low enough as to not wake your son, sleeping soundly upstairs. “I’m Mary Linton.”

[floral-and-fine]

Heaven Bent part 4

Daryl Dixon x female reader

Part 1    Part 2    Part 3

A/n: Hope y'all enjoy this next part :) Thank you, everyone, who has left comments or shown support, really helps keep me motivated to write!  Other than a few specific scenes, I’m not quite sure where this fic is going or for how long. Thank you @ewokiee​ for helping me when I was stuck, seems to have happened a lot.

Summary: The reader finds Sophia lost in the woods, too bad neither of them have any sense of direction. 

You were laying out on the grass, in front of the prison, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin. Turning your head, you could see a couple of walkers banging on the fence, but there wasn’t any urgency. Closing your eyes and sighing, you continued soaking in the warmth of the sun’s rays.

After months of traveling and living on the road, it seemed like finding a new home, a new safe haven was a dream of a dream.

Seeing so many houses and towns abandoned made the world seem like a shell of itself. It was almost like living in an episode of the Twilight Zone.

Every day you would come across something that reminded you of how things used to be, such as while rummaging for supplies in an empty home, you’d end up finding a forgotten family photo album or family portrait, and deep down you longed for that safer, easier life.

Then there were the walkers, a never-ending threat, a fear that everyone had to live with, and that worry whenever entering a new building if you turned a corner or opened a door that it could be your last.

Who would’ve believed that you’d find such comfort and peace behind a fence or behind bars?

“Hey,” a voice said as their body plopped down beside you.

“Hi buttercup,” you smiled, keeping your eyes shut.

Sophia stretched her arms above her head, looking around. “You know what this place needs,” she mused. “Flowers.”

You nodded your head, “Ah yes, big yellow sunflowers would be nice.”

“Those are pretty,” she commented.

“And useful,” you added. You could feel her giving you a skeptical look, you smiled wider. “We can roast and eat the seeds, and there are some medical uses too.”

“Are there other flowers that are helpful?”

“There are,” You said sitting up. “And lots of other plants that can be helpful too. I’ll keep an eye out for seeds next time I’m on a run. Would you like to be my helper?”

“Yes! We’ll start our own flower garden!” She said eagerly.

“Yep, I think that’s exactly what this place needs,” you murmured to yourself. You stood up and started scanning the area, trying to decide where the garden should go. “We should probably ask Rick first.”

There was a nice spot over by the east side of the prison, plenty of sunshine in the mornings and in the evening it would be nicely shaded. Water was scarce, but if you could figure out a way to collect rainwater that would help.

You turned around and looked back at Sophia, “Race you to the prison.” With that you took off running, laughing as Sophia called you a cheater.

Still giggling, you found Rick and some of the others inside the prison.

“Hey Rick,” you greeted, rocking on the balls of your feet with your hands clasped behind your back.

“Need something?” He asked, turning his attention to you.

“I was thinking of starting a small garden, over around there,” you explained, vaguely gesturing with your head. “Wanted to make sure it was alright with you first.”

“We’re going to plant flowers,” Sophia butted in.

Rick smiled and shrugged, “Don’t see why not.”

Sophia squealed beside you and you laughed, “Still have to find seeds and whatnot,” you told her. “But we can start tomorrow morning by getting the soil ready.”

…

You wiped the sweat from your brow and leaned against your shovel. The garden was starting to come along, you hadn’t found many things to plant yet, but it was better than nothing.

“So, what did you do before all this?” Glenn asked, walking over and admiring the work you had done so far.

You shrugged, “a little of this and a little of that.”

“Oh come on, that’s worse than Daryl’s answer!” Glenn complained. “Anytime anyone has asked, he always replies with its none of your goddamn business.”

You smiled, you could easily picture Daryl scowling at the question. “Well that’s probably because it is God’s business,” you joked.

Glenn laughed lightly, “still can’t believe he lets you get away with all that angel talk. It’s probably because the two of you are sleeping together.”

Your fell face at the comment, but just as you were about to question him, Hershel approached.

He was getting quick on those crutches. He smiled at the beginnings of your little project. “It’s looking good so far,” he chuckled.

You rubbed the back of your head, “I guess so. Nothing compared to your farm of course.”

…

Daryl was doing maintenance on his bow when Sophia quietly shuffled into the room.

“Mr. Dixon,” she started, standing by the door. Even after everything, Sophia was still shy around most everyone with the exception of her mother, you, and Carl.

“What is it?” He asked, focused on what he was doing.

“We’re going to be starting a flower garden, y/n and I,” she explained, smiling brightly.

Daryl nodded, still working.

She fidgeted with her necklace for a moment, moving the pendant side to side.

“Y/n was hoping to plant some sunflowers, and I was just thinking if you come across any kind of seeds you could bring them back with you, y’know? We’re hoping to plant all sorts of flowers.” She rattled off.

Daryl sighed, looking over at Sophia, who was looking at him hopefully, “Alright, if I see any I’ll bring them back.”

“Thank you!” She shrieked, giving him a quick hug.

He clenched his jaw for a moment, mulling things over, “what flowers did you say she wanted?”

“Sunflowers!” Sophia shouted as she skipped out of the room.

…

Daryl pulled up to the gates, he had left for a solo supply run just as the sun was rising. He had scoured a few abandoned homes, killed a couple of walkers, nothing too eventful or worthwhile.

You sat your tools aside, and dusted yourself off, heading over and meeting Daryl by the gate.

“Did you have any luck?” You asked.

“Not really,” he said, getting off of his motorcycle. Opening his pack he pulled out a shoebox that had probably seen better days.

“Shoes?” You questioned, lifting your brow.

He shook his head and thrust the dirty worn box into your hands. “Here,” he muttered before heading inside.

Curious, you opened the lid, finding that it was filled with seed packets inside. You bit your lip and sat on the ground. Carefully, you started going through the packets, setting aside the most useful ones.

You were bubbling with excitement over the find, if you could manage to gather enough water and get some extra help, you could have a pretty nice crop going besides just a little flower garden.

You paused, noticing underneath the top layer of packets, was a sunflower, the stem had been cut by a serrated knife leaving it rough and jagged, it was also missing a few petals, but still, it was a beautiful sight.

Looking back at the prison, you wondered if there was something you could do for Daryl in return. Most people wouldn’t have bothered even looking in this box, figuring it was probably just junk. Plus, you couldn’t even put into words how you felt over the flower.

You clutched the flower tightly, you had been meaning to do something for him for months now, even before this new surprise. You narrowed your eyes, what the hell would he even like?

...

“Guess who finally picked the lock to the warden’s office,” you sang, joining Daryl on the watchtower.

Daryl looked up at you, blinking in surprise over the dried blood on your shirt, “what the hell happened to you?”

You looked down at the stain, “Oh yeah, that, there was a walker inside, but I took care of it.”

Daryl shook his head, “you’re gonna get yourself killed doing stupid shit like that.”

“Sorry,” you sighed, feeling bad for making him worry. “But look at what I found.” You held up the fancy bottle of scotch and smiled. “Thought we could share it.”

Daryl rolled his eyes but scooted over for you to sit next to him.

You opened the bottle and took the first drink before handing it to him. Closing your eyes, you listened to the crickets and Daryl breathing. It was a cool and peaceful night, perfect for relaxing and loosening up a bit.

“Thank you for the seeds and the flower,” you said, breaking the silence.

He didn’t reply, simply taking another swig from the bottle, and staring out into the distance.

He wasn’t quite sure what motivated him to do it. The box of seeds was one thing, but searching for a Goddamn sunflower just so he could bring you one was another.

Daryl could practically hear Merle in his head taunting him, telling him he’d gone soft for some bitch. His hands balled into fists involuntarily, the thought of a Merle referring to you as a bitch pissed him off.

‘What’s a matter with you boy?’ Imaginary Merle asked. ‘Never thought l’d see my kid brother wrapped around some woman’s finger.’

Daryl leaned back, clenching his jaw, all this was unfamiliar territory, all these things he felt, the way he thought about you. Maybe he was going soft… scowling he drank more, hoping to put an end to the voice going on and on in the back of his mind.

You took the bottle from him, taking a big drink and sighing as a wave of nostalgia washed over you, “I remember getting my heart broken on a night like this, damn bastard.”

Daryl peeked over at you. You rarely cursed and you rarely seemed anything other than sweet and happy. But the bitterness and hurt in your voice were evident.

You examined the bottle in your hands, a quarter of it already gone. “I was dumb, so fucking dumb. I left home without a second thought and followed the man I loved across the country. I don’t know what I expected… marriage and babies, I guess, but instead what I ended up with was an immature manipulative dick.”

“I packed up what little I had, and left that small crappy apartment in the middle of the night... I couldn’t go back home, so I hitched a ride going as far as the driver would take me,” you wrapped your arms around yourself. “Since then my entire life could fit in one suitcase.”

Tossing your head back you took another big gulp, and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

You could easily recall that night you left, standing on the street corner feeling like a lost soul in the dark. No one to turn to, nowhere to go, it was scary but there was also a certain freedom to it. You were on your own, nothing tying you down or holding you up.

“You been on your own since then?” Daryl asked.

“Mostly,” you shrugged. “I’ve been fortunate though, met some decent people on my travels… and some interesting ones.”

You passed the bottle back to him,“I heard from the others about what happened with your brother,” you started. “Sounds like you and him have been through a lot together.”

He nodded, “Merle’s tougher than nails, none of these walkers would ever get the jump on him. He’s out there somewhere.”

“The two of you have that in common then,” You smiled. “From what I’ve gathered, it sounded like the two of you were inseparable, always having each other’s backs and whatnot.”

Daryl frowned. “Not all the time,” he corrected you.

Merle had been the first one to leave, having left Daryl behind without a second thought. This time around, Daryl didn’t have a choice, at least not in the same way.

“But I guess we’re even now,” he murmured.

“It must’ve been hard not going after him,” you commented. “But I know we’re all grateful that you stuck around. We need you.”

Daryl sighed, he didn’t regret his choice, he was needed here. But he still felt like he’d owed it to Merle to find him. They were family, blood, Merle was all he had in this world.

Taking another sip, your eyes wandered over to the beginnings of your garden.

“Y’know the best thing about my childhood home were the sunflowers that grew outside of my window,” You laughed dryly wiping a few stray tears. “Guess I’m just hoping this could be home for all of us.”

Daryl nodded, “If we’re smart, and if we’re careful, it can be.”

Resting your head on your hand, you admired Daryl, he was a handsome man, there was no doubt about that, but it was his arms and hands that stood out to you the most. There were many mornings you wished you could wake up in those arms.

You glanced at his face, your angel seemed to have a lot on his mind. You had hoped when you found the bottle of scotch it would’ve helped him relax a little.

But by now, you had enough to drink that you were feeling that buzz of confidence.

“Angel,” you whispered leaning forward, your eyes closed, and your hand reaching out to cup his face.

Immediately, Daryl placed his hands on your shoulders, stopping you from getting any closer.

There was a part of him that wanted this to happen, to pull you close and run his fingers through your hair, but there was also fear. He had never really been one for relationships, he didn’t have much experience with romance either. Not to mention, it seemed wrong to want to kiss a drunk woman.

You opened your eyes slowly, looking at Daryl full of confusion. Immediately backing away when you saw his face.

“Sorry, sorry,” you stood up, keeping your eyes downcast, unable to look at him. Your face felt like it was on fire.  “I-I should go,” you mumbled, stumbling as you took a few steps forward.

“Wait,” Daryl spoke up, grabbing your arm. “You’ll break your damn neck trying to climb down drunk.”

You kept your head down but nodded trying desperately to hold back tears. You were feeling absolutely overwhelmed by your emotions, and your inebriated state making it harder to control them.

“I’ll climb down first,” he explained, that way if you lost your footing and slipped and he could try to catch you.

Once you made it to the ground, you were still so flustered that you quickly wished him a good night before brushing past him and heading towards the prison.

Daryl watched as you briskly walked away, eventually climbing back up to the watchtower once you were inside. He grabbed the bottle of scotch taking one more drink before replacing the lid. He hoped he hadn’t just fucked things up.

Tag list: @twdeadfanfic​  @xaestheticalien​  @x-roscpctals-x   @amaroho​  @theonlyone-meeeee​  @mysterious-398​   @marss-anonymous​   @thecaptainsgingersnap​

[ohmightydevviepuu]

the last test and proof / part three

the celebration of @profdanglaisstuff​ continues 😘 and so does the NO!  CURSE!  RENAISSANCE!!

part one | part two | AO3

Things Emma and Hook Haven’t Talked About Yet:

1 - Neal 2 - The time she’d left him with a giant 3 - The time he’d left her in a cell 4 - Milah 5 - True. Love’s. Kiss.

The Time She Left Him With a Giant. 

One in the morning. Emma was still watching the ceiling.

Two in the morning. Her eyes were dry. Open. Each time she closed them she could see the purple smoke, the way he looked at her. Each time she closed them she could feel the warmth, the light (the rainbow fucking light); she could feel his lips and his tongue and his fingers and his beard. The orgasm(s). The Feelings.

Emma wasn’t used to feelings, she knew this, it was not a mystery to her. She was strong, she was indifferent, fucking rolling with the fucking waves.

But.

It was weighing on her heart, screaming in time with her heartbeat. Apologies.

What was he apologizing for?

What the fuck was even happening?

True. Love’s. Kiss.

Emma had no one to talk to.

(That was a lie.)

She just--she chose not to. Maybe that should change. Be a part of something, et cetera.

Okay.

Except--

“Neal does have a point,” her mother said. “About the running.”

Whoa. “Whoa,” Emma said.

“I mean, you did leave Hook on the beanstalk.” A pause, a sip of coffee. “And in New York.”

“Yeah. But, Mary Margaret--” Emma gulped, swallowed “--Mom, I mean, you have to understand how it was with Neal. I had my reasons.”

“I’d like that, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink. “I’d like to understand." She put the coffee cup down on the little kitchen island and reached for Emma’s hand, pulling it into her own. “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

Emma gulped again. Looked at her mother’s hand wrapped around her own and what the hell, try something new, darling and all of that, so:

Emma told her. About the car. About the cons, the hotel rooms. Tallahassee and the watches. About giving birth chained to a bed in a prison hospital ward. The story spilled out--all the things about herself that Emma always let her mother assume but never know, because she still wanted her parents to be proud of her, to see the best of her, to want her. To not see the mess she had made of her life, to not think that maybe they’d been better off without her. Because she was still angry at them for the choices they’d made. She’d trusted Neal because she’d wanted someone to trust her, to love her, to put her first and it had ended badly and she’d looked into Killian’s eyes on that first day by the beanstalk and felt Feelings and saw all of it happening all over again.

Just another person she shouldn’t trust.

Just another person who would betray her.

Emma was the only person who would put herself first and she couldn’t take the chance she was wrong about that.

When she finished, Mary Margaret was crying. Both of them were, Mary Margaret still clutching her hand and Emma had her hand on top of her mother’s and it was, for the first time, a Moment. A mother-daughter moment. The coffee was cold and gross but Emma took a sip anyway as her mother wiped her eyes and straightened up.

“So what now?” Mary Margaret asked.

True. Love’s. Kiss.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Emma said. “Neal and I are over--”

“Obviously.”

“--and Hook and I, well, you saw what happened. Everyone saw.” Only Emma hoped everyone hadn’t seen what had happened in the restroom. That was--

“You and dad, like, literally walked off into the sunset and got married. After.”

True. Love’s. Kiss.

--that was complicated.

Apologies.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Mary Margaret said, making a noise. It was--it was like a mom noise. Like an I’m not mad I’m disappointed kind of thing. “That’s not what happened and you know it. Our road after the curse was almost as bumpy as the one that led to it. And I think I know you well enough--I hope I do--to know that’s not what you want. Not yet. Maybe not ever?”

Emma looked up at her mother, her eyebrows raised, and shrugged.

“What did Killian say?”

“We haven’t, um, talked,” Emma said.

“But last night you--” Mary Margaret paused. “Oh.”

Emma tried to hide her blush and--well, she failed. Totally, if Mary Margaret’s pink cheeks and shy smile were anything to go by, like Snow-freaking-White just wanted her baby girl--her princess--to live happily ever after with the pirate, married or unmarried or fucking in the restrooms of the diner for all eternity.

Just be happy, whatever that meant.

But then--

Emma’s smile faded; Mary Margaret’s expression shifted, slowly, comprehension coloring her features.

Mary Margaret took a breath and exhaled it, slowly. “Emma, you know how you have those--”

Yes, for fuck’s sake. She knew. She knew, okay? WALLS. She had them.

“Seriously? You think I don’t know that? I literally just finished explaining to you--”

“Let me finish.” Mary Margaret made the noise again, the mom noise. “You have these walls, but everyone in Storybrooke has lost something. Not just you.”

Ouch. Thanks, mom. Could have gotten that from Regina, but, whatever. Okay.

“Neal--”

“I’m not talking about Neal,” Mary Margaret said. “You need to make peace with him. We all do--though I’m not looking forward to having this conversation with your father.”

Emma snorted.

“I’m talking about Hook. About Killian. Obviously.”

Obviously.

“You did leave him, Emma. You had your reasons, and a lot has changed since then.”

True. Love’s. Kiss.

“I’m just saying that you’re not the only one who might have, um, reservations.” Her mother shrugged, eloquently. It was the gesture of a Queen explaining something that should be obvious. (There was that word again.) Gently-laid breadcrumbs for a populace--or a daughter--who did not want to have things explained to them. All of that was fine and dandy except that Emma really, really did not like having her mother explain things, whether it was ogres or giants or pixie dust or Feelings. Especially when she was right--and she was, she was--and when it was obvious, all of the times she’d seen it spilling out of him, reflected in the windows of his eyes: the pain. The hesitation. The fear--of not being enough, not worth helping, not worth trusting.

Until--

Be a part of something.

The fear of being not worth even a goodbye but then she’d looked at him on the town line as he waited, as he said nothing even though they might never have seen each other again and she was the one who’d been afraid. Who’d missed him, even though he wasn’t gone yet.

When I win your heart, Emma--

And he had.

“Mom!” Henry called to her as Emma stood in the sunlight on Main Street, blinking, needing to wash away the leftover cold coffee still lingering in her mouth. They walked into the diner as Emma tried to ignore Granny and her lascivious grin--wait, how good was a werewolf’s hearing, exactly?--but she couldn’t ignore Hook sitting on a stool at the edge of the counter, especially when the bell rang over the door and she looked forward and he looked up and their eyes met. There was a beat but then he smiled, softly, tentatively.

Emma waved. Tentatively.

Henry, who was much smarter than an eleven-year-old had any right to be, looked from Emma to Hook and back again and said, “Why don’t we invite Killian to eat with us?”

“What?” Emma looked down at him and his serious face and it wasn’t what she expected, to have her kid trying to set her up with Captain Hook. Shit, maybe he had heard her and Neal fighting last night, or maybe he just wanted her to be happy. “Sure you’re okay with that, kid?”

Henry smiled. “I just want you to be happy,” he said.

Huh.

Emma’s eyes were back on him--on Killian--and she cocked her head and crooked her finger at him, her smile widening as she did it. There was a dirty joke in there and she knew it and he definitely knew it because she saw his jaw muscle twitch and his eyes light up before his smile grew, wide and bright and less hesitant as he slid from the stool and walked toward Emma and Henry.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he said.

That was it, nothing else, and they just--they stared at each other for a couple of seconds, grinning stupidly, Emma could feel it on her face and she was almost sure she heard Granny start swearing as she watched them until Ho--Killian cleared his throat and said to Henry, “I trust you’re feeling well, lad?”

Henry shrugged, like having his heart pulled out of his body and getting his soul transposed with a demon’s was all in a day’s work or whatever, and all of that was before The Curse and the Breaking Of The Curse. “I’m okay,” he said. “Can I have chocolate milk with my cereal?”

Emma laughed. “How about some lunch? Maybe some protein?”

Henry just deadeyed her because he totally knew she was going to order grilled cheese so she said, “Fine, kid. Whatever you want. Just don’t tell Regina, okay?”

“What are you going to have?” she asked H--Killian, and his entire face did this thing where it softened and some of the tension he was still carrying in his shoulders dissipated because she hadn’t--because she wasn't mad at him, or something.

They’d spent months as adversaries because of her, because she’d left him and couldn’t trust herself and then--six days--six days where everything shifted underneath their feet, constantly, and an epic fuck wasn’t going to fix or undo all of that in spite of True Love’s Kiss and Emma needed to take a goddamn breath and just--yeah. She watched his fist clench and unclench under the table and as she reached for his arm--as she let herself reach for his arm, trailed her hand down to his wrist and wrapped her fingers around the cool metal of his hook. He stiffened all over and then exhaled, not taking his eyes off Henry but his leg shifted just so until their toes were almost touching and she could feel the heat of him along her thigh and her shin and she knew.

When I win your heart, Emma--and I will win it--

If she let Killian Jones into her life, he would never leave her. She had a choice; she could choose to see the best in him.

It will be because you want me.

She could let him see the best in her.

And then the fun could begin.

--

@katie-dub​ @thisonesatellite​ @shireness-says​ @spartanguard​ @optomisticgirl​ @kmomof4​ @karl0ta​ @withaheartfulloflove​ @therealstartraveller776​ @mariakov81​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @carpedzem​ @captain-emmajones​ 

[tryingtobeclassy]

choi san . . . how real is your love : part I

part ii.

genre: San x female!reader, college au

description: While trying to get rid of an obnoxious ex you end up in a sort of unusual situation. A fake relationship. With none other than the biggest player on the campus - San.

word count: 4.3 k

warnings: swearing, alcohol

.         .         .          .          .

“Okay.”

…

“Yes. Alright.”

…

“Just fuck off.”

You finally ended the call and for a few seconds just stared at your phone feeling the anger still going up inside of you. Absolutely furious after the conversation, you slammed the notebook you were holding into the floor and giving yourself the freedom of letting out a scream as you thought you were the only one in the college hallway at that moment.

Turns out you were wrong.

“You good?” a male voice asked you, making you freeze in your spot. Anger washing away as embarrassment replaced it.

You turned around to see a guy sitting on the bench under the window, a somewhat worried expression on his face. You immediately recognized who it was and felt even more like just dying in the spot and letting the bugs eat your body. There probably wasn’t a single girl on campus who didn’t know who he was. Probably one of the best-looking men you ever had the chance to see up close and everyone seemed to agree.

San. From all the people who it could’ve been behind you, it just had to be San.

“I’m,, fine”, you barely pushed words out of you as your mind was in chaos.

It wasn’t even because you had a crush on him or anything. You kind of settled with the fact you’ll never get a chance to kiss him or anything despite his growing reputation of a player, you just didn’t think an average you would get to beat some other way prettier, but also pushier girls on campus. But you also didn’t want to just be one of the many on his list. It wasn’t really worth it. Your sudden lack of knowledge on how a human should hold a conversation was more because of how truly gorgeous this man was that it felt almost intimidating talking to him, but also because everyone freaking knew him, it felt like talking to a goddamn celebrity. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself, but of course when you don’t want that, it’s when your brain usually collapses to only a few last braincells.

“That was some intense phone call”, he commented, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

As he mentioned the call, all the anger suddenly starts piling up again and your face instantly frowns. “Yeah… I guess some exes just like to be unnecessarily intense.”

…..

“Come on, babe. Just come to the party it will be fun”, your ex, Jonah, insisted on the other side of the phone.

“Three things. I said no. Don’t call me babe. And for the love of god, stop calling me!”

“Give me one good reason.”

You roll your eyes so hard they could’ve gotten stuck at the back of your skull. He truly was as persistent as a cockroach. It’s been a few weeks since you broke up with him and since then he never stopped being obnoxious and trying to convince you that you did a mistake and how you two were actually meant for each other.

“I have a boyfriend”, you suddenly lied. You didn’t really think too much about it, but as you said it, you didn’t regret it. You even thought it might actually be a solution to your troubles.

There was a short moment of silence from the other side before Jonah finally replied, “Oh really?” At the same time he sounded pissed as well as not really believing you. “Bring him as well then.”

Well shit. Gotta try and figure a way out of that one.

“Why the hell would I bring my current boyfriend to an ex’s party?”

“Because it’s a hot party everyone from campus would like to go to”, he said while sounding completely full of himself.

You sometimes really didn’t know what you saw in that douchebag.

“And also because I ain’t buying that crap”, he added.

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“I’m guessing you’re saying that because he doesn’t really exist.”

You were angry by that point, but now you could just feel your body heat up from the amount that was building up. You knew you didn’t have to prove anything. In normal circumstances he would’ve backed up by now. Hell, in normal circumstance you wouldn’t even be having this conversation, but something inside you felt like this might actually be the solution. Even though a bad one. Just as bad as the whole idea.

“Fine”, you say aggressively, “I’m coming to your stupid party.”

“And your little imaginary boyfriend as well.”

“Okay.”

“Ten o’clock.”

“Yes. Alright.”

“Try not to lose him by then since he is invisible after all.”

“Just fuck off.”

…..

You somehow ended up telling San the entire story once he got curious and said he had experience with crazy exes and he might be of help when it comes to advice. So it was one of those ‘why the hell not’ moments. It’s not like you get to lose anything. He’ll know some personal info about you, but you’ll live. You might even get some piece of advice that could actually be helpful.

“That’s rough”, he says after listening to your story.

You felt good after venting to him for a bit. Feeling all the anger slowly calming and your mind not being set into ‘smash anything in sight to feel better’ mode.

“Yeah well, now I have three more days to find a fake boyfriend.”

“Have any plans?” he asked, looking insanely invested into the drama of your life. As if he’s watching a movie going live in front of him.

“I had a short thought that I could take my friend, but Jonah already knows him. He’s not stupid enough to believe it.” You let out a deep sigh, feeling annoyed from the situation you got yourself in. “Don’t really have a plan B yet.”

“I can act as your fake boyfriend if you want to”, he suddenly said. Just throwing that offer on the table. There. It’s here. What you gonna do about it?

“What? Are you serious?” you got extremely confused by how quickly he offered that and because of the fact he actually did.

He just shrugged his shoulders as if he just offered you to keep a pen you borrowed or something. No big deal for him. “Why not?”

You suddenly got really suspicious. “What’s in it for you?” you asked while squinting at him.

“I want twenty bucks…”

Sounds like a reasonable price.

“…and I want us to go to this one pizzeria near campus one Friday evening cause then they have a couples offer where you get free drinks.”

That one’s kinda unusual, but okay. Doable.

“You want to act as a fake couple just to get a free drink?” you asked, a bit of judgement crawling into your voice.

“I want to feel the satisfaction of getting something free. And doing something illegal.”

“I really don’t think fake dating to get a drink is against the law, but sure we can do that”, you said while doing your best not to laugh at someone who just offered his help. “Is that all?”

San seemed to think about it for a second before adding one last thing, “I want you to come to a family dinner.”

“Uh, why?”

“I have an older sister who constantly fucking ridicules me how I need to stop messing around with so much girls and try and be serious for once.”

“Kinda stupid. You’re like twenty. If you ain’t gonna mess around now, when will you?”

“That’s what I told her”, he yelled being all dramatic over it. “But yeah, those are my terms. We gonna do it or no?”

He suddenly turned serious starring at you with those dreamy eyes of his and you suddenly got hit with realization that the most desired guy on campus offered to be your fake boyfriend. You weren’t quite sure how you felt about it, but one thing you were sure about is that once Jonah sees him, he’s gonna get jealous. As in jealous. And that moment is the satisfaction you want.

“It’s a deal”, you say as you shook his hand, a smirk forming on your lips.

“How about we write a contract?” he suggests. “I want to have it written that you owe me money.”

You rolled your eyes, but still agreed because of which you ended at the nearest café. It was late afternoon by that time so the café was pretty empty. Everyone was either already done with classes or currently in one so it felt pretty peaceful as you drank you black coffee and kept writing down the discussed terms.

In the end the contract said:

This is a contract between San and y/n who have agreed to fake a relationship. Their fake relationship will be built on a few rules:

1.      San has to go to Jonah’s party with y/n

2.      y/n owes San 20$, a pizza date and attendance at one of his family dinners

3.      If needed the relationship may last longer

4.      neither side is allowed to have any  other relationships during this one

San wasn’t too happy about the last one, but as you assured him this entire act most definitely won’t last long, you both ended up singing it so it was officially settled. You stayed in the café for a little while longer just talking for a bit, getting to know each other a bit better. To your surprise, San wasn’t really what you imagined he’d be. He wasn’t all that full of himself or cocky and annoying for someone who was so popular and wanted. He was definitely confident, but he also had a somewhat softer side that only showed up for a second when he excitedly talked about a plush he sleeps with, but he immediately after changed the topic and asked you for your discretion and not to tell anyone at which you just laughed.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe.”

Once you both finally finished the coffee, it was time to finally go home and prepare for tomorrow’s classes. Leaving the café, you said your goodbyes and prepared to go each in their own direction. But just as you wanted to turn around and leave, San suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to himself, your lips crashing against each other. You felt like your entire body decided to stop working, like your heart stopped beating and your lungs stopped taking in air, the moment you felt his soft lips against your own. His other hand wandered behind your neck as he deepened the kiss for a moment before letting you go.

“What the hell was that?” you scream at him completely flustered while his lips just turned into a shape of a satisfied smirk.

“I wanted you to know what it’s like to kiss me”, he said as if it’s the most obvious thing. “It would’ve been suspicious if I kissed you for the first time in front of someone and you got all embarrassed and weird.”

“I’m not embarrassed and weird”, you complain despite feeling your face turning as red as a tomato.

“Whatever you say, babe”, he said through a smirk, putting weird emphasis on the word babe.

You wanted to yell something back at him, but thought it would probably be better to just leave it and finally go home. The dorms weren’t that far away from the café, but instead of going to your own room, you set off to a different floor and knocked on a door that didn’t belong to you. Few seconds later, Yunho opened.

“You won’t believe the day I had”, you said as you let yourself in and plopped down on his bed.

Luckily his roommate wasn’t there so you could freely tell all about your dramatic day to your friend.

“I literally feel like you won’t believe me.”

“What happened?” Yunho asked, sounding only half interested as he was occupied with a cup of instant ramen on his desk.

“I got myself a fake boyfriend.”

That sentence alone was enough to get his full attention. “I’m sorry, what?”

“And the wildest part is”, you stopped for a second to make a dramatic pause even starting to swing around with your hands, “it’s San.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you”, was the only thing Yunho said after that.

You started to explain him the story from beginning to end. The phone call with Jonah, how San saw your angry tantrum and how it led to making a pact with his to have a fake relationship. Even the unexpected kiss at the end.

“Is he as good of a kisser as everyone says?” Yunho asked as his eyebrows were wiggling playfully.

You rolled your eyes for a moment. “I mean, you know. He’s decent”, you said trying to act cool.

“You think it will work?” he asked finally.

“I don’t think Jonah is smart enough to realize it so, yeah, I think it will work.”

You two talked for a little while longer before it was seriously about time you go to your own room and prepare for tomorrow.

You tried to occupy your mind with studying and all the college stuff you had to take your mind away from the party and Jonah, but also away from San as well. As much as you hated to admit it, you were kinda excited to act as his girlfriend. Not many girls manage to get that so you did feel a little bit special, even if it was all fake.

The three days went by too fast and it was already the day of the party. You haven’t seen San ever since the day you made the contract. Only texted to agree on a place and time of meeting each other. You were getting kind of nervous as you were rummaging through your closet. With a hot boyfriend, you wanted to look just as hot and not like some kind of gremlin next to him, so a seriously good outfit was needed. When you almost gave up on deciding on what to wear cause nothing seemed good enough and right after you threw yourself on the bed with an extremely loud and dramatic sigh, your roommate, Liv, exited the bathroom and found you in your despair.

“Still haven’t figured out an outfit?” she asked.

You let out a whiny ‘no’ to which she just laughed teasingly before opening her own part of the closet. “I can lend you one of my dresses.”

You immediately jumped in your spot as that was a wonderful idea. Liv had way more style than you and putting on any of her nice ass dresses will for sure make you look bomb.

“I think you should go for a classic nice black dress”, she commented while going through the hangers with clothes, you still just seated on the table as if you’re five years old again and waiting for your mom to pick an outfit for you.

With both of your strengths combined, you managed to make you look just like your goal was - hot as fuck. So you were finally ready. Liv was also going to the same party, but somehow she always starts getting ready when these kinds of things already start and shows up two hours late, but that’s fine. She wasn’t your concern right now. You were more worried about the actual party and how things will go. Will Jonah really believe your fake relationship? Well, there was only one way to find out.

You met with San on a little square nearby the house. In some nice pants and a simple shirt that he tucked in he looked casual, but still like he could walk the runway any moment. When you got close enough to him, he gave you a subtle scan from head to toe and added a nice compliment, “you look hot.”

“Thank you”, you said while flipping your hair like some kind of diva, but still felt your cheeks heating up a bit. “You look pretty nice too.”

The two of you had a nice little chat as you were walking towards the house. San turned out to be someone really easy to talk to. You somehow never had an awkward silence to get between you and the conversation would constantly just keep flowing. Something you didn’t expect, but you actually enjoyed talking to him. You always kind of had a prejudice that he would be insanely boring or that you just wouldn’t have any common topics to discuss. But turns out you were wrong.

“You ready?” he asked when you were so close to the house, you could hear the music blasting.

He slid his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to himself to which you almost let out a surprised squeal, but thankfully it managed to stay inside of you.

“I hope so”, you said as you could feel your heart start to beat up and it was hard to tell if the reason was San’s arm or the fact you’re about to face Jonah.

You were about half an hour late, but to your surprise the party already picked up. Music was so loud, you could barely hear anyone talk in certain parts of the house. Some people already managed to get drunk. And it was already so crowded that it was hard to move. You and San split up for a few moments since he settled for beer that was in the kitchen, but you wanted to find something stronger to get you through this night. And just as you were mixing yourself a drink, you felt a hand on your back. At first you thought it was San who came back after getting his beer, but unfortunately you found yourself face to face to Jonah. Already. And you couldn’t even get a drink to make all of this a tad bit more tolerable.

“Well, hey there, babe. I couldn’t help but notice that you’re alone”, he said, the nastiest smirk forming on his face.

“How many times do I have to repeat not to call me babe, asshole?” you asked, anger getting into your voice as you seriously weren’t having it.

“That’s harsh”, he said in a mocking kind of way. “So where’s this boyfriend of yours?”

He really wasn’t wasting no time before getting straight to the point, but it wasn’t enough to make you lose your cool.

“He went to get a beer.”

“How convenient.”

He seemed so full of himself. You could tell he was so convinced you were lying and probably convinced he’d have you in his arms again by the end of the night. An absolute idiot if he really did think you’d stoop so low.

He continued teasing you, subtly implying the whole time how your boyfriend story was obviously fake and you were just about to say something when San suddenly showed up next to you, sliding his arm over your shoulder and surprising you with a short kiss when you turned your head to look at him.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart”, he said casually before turning to face the man in front of you.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire for a second and you had to quickly collect yourself not to seem suspicious in front of Jonah.

“Who’s your friend?” asked San, despite being well aware of Jonah since you showed him pictures to be prepared.

“Not a friend”, you said, trying to make your voice sound as cold as possible.

The look on Jonah’s face was exactly what you hoped for and was the only thing you looked forward to that night. Complete surprise as he stared at San not knowing what to even say.

“This is the boyfriend you were so eager to meet, San”, you said with a mocking tone in your voice. “And San, this is my ex Jonah.”

“Oh, dude, sorry didn’t want to make it weird”, San immediately said and pulled his arm away trying to look like a decent guy who doesn’t want any trouble. “I’m gonna go dancing, so just find me after, okay?” he added and disappeared.

You were once again left with Jonah, but at this moment, you weren’t the slightest mad about it as Jonah still didn’t quite know what to say.

“Can you finally leave me alone now?” you asked while crossing your arms on your chest.

“San?” he asked with the most confused and almost angry look on his face. “From all the guys on the campus, how the fuck did you get him?”

“Are you saying I’m not good enough for him?” you asked and tried to seem mad although it was fairly amusing for you.

“I’m just confused.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is jealous.”

He let out a loud pfft to try and make you think how that was the most absurd thing you could’ve said. “Sure thing”, he said sarcastically before just walking away without another word.

Mission accomplished.

With a satisfied grin on your face you went to find San.

“How did it go?” he asked enthusiastically when you found him.

“Perfect. He looked like a little kid about to throw a tantrum and it was beautiful.”

San answered with a soft laugh, two cute dimples showing up that you didn’t notice before.

“I didn’t really have a plan from this point on”, you admitted.

He took a few gulps of his beer as he got lost in thought. “We definitely can’t break up after tonight, it would be too soon and suspicious.”

You kinda didn’t hate the idea of fake dating San for a bit longer, but you tried to play it as cool as possible. “You’re probably right. Jonah is an idiot, but I don’t think he’s an idiot of such a scale.”

“Well… Let’s not worry about him anymore and just have a good night. How about that, babe?” he asked and shoot you a playful smile.

“Sounds good to me.”

The rest of the night went great. You finally got your hands on a drink and the moment you stopped thinking too much about Jonah and how this whole situation you got yourself into is quite odd, it got even better. San was extremely flirty the entire night. You were showered with attention, compliments and soft touches. It all felt a bit too real at some points. He even introduced you to his best friend Wooyoung as your girlfriend and didn’t give any further explanation.

“Who would’ve thought you’d actually stick with only one girl”, Wooyoung teased him a bit.

He was quite a character. Very charismatic, but also very funny and silly – almost like a little boy.

“Anyway, I don’t feel like third wheeling any longer so you two have fun”, he said. San tried to convince him to stay a bit longer, but soon enough you two were left alone.

Well not really alone. There was still a bunch of people around you in the hallway just trying to get away from the loud music for a second. And as it seems some people you didn’t want there as well.

“Okay, don’t look, but your little ex has been sort of following us half of the night”, San said as he subtly eyed one end of the hallway where Jonah probably was.

“Jesus, I thought I was crazy when I kept seeing him”, you said as you rolled your eyes, anger once again crawling back into your voice.

You were about to say something else, but you were surprised by San suddenly leaning a lot closer to you. You were already standing with your back against the wall and once he leaned his forearm on the wall above you and leaned forward, the space between you was almost non-existent.

“I’m pretty sure I know how to get him away.”

He was so close you could feel his breath on you and it made your body heat up once again that night. Before you could even say anything he moved into a short kiss. It was so short, you weren’t even sure whether it happened and once it was over he moved a few inches, just enough to see your expression, as if he was evaluating your reaction.

“Is that all you got?” you suddenly asked, confidence you didn’t know you got pilling up inside you and a playful smile stretching on your lips.

He didn’t give you what would be considered a usual answer. But instead you were met with his lips once again as this time he wasn’t holding back. They were soft and tasted like alcohol. He grabbed you by your waist to pull you even closer to him that you could feel his entire torso pressed against yours and a wave of heat suddenly washed over you. Your hands wandered around his neck and into his hair. It was soft. So incredibly soft.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that. You were completely immersed into the moment. Kissing him felt like nothing ever before. It felt so passionate. Like all he wants is to keep you in his arms and kiss you forever.

Once the kiss broke and you both gasped for air, you just let out a half awkward laugh and lightly smacked him on the chest.

“Not bad for the biggest player on the campus.”

You stayed at the party for a little while longer before complete tiredness got the better of you and you made your way home. The rest of the night and probably the whole weekend, you spent in constantly thinking about it. About Jonah, about San. Especially about San and this whole fake relationship that he really devoted himself to the part. You weren’t sure what to think of it, but one thing was for sure. You can’t catch feelings. And that’s final.

[staylovehearts]

Enough?

Lee Felix x Reader

Word Count ~3.9 k

Summary: You never wanted Felix to find out that the fans he loves so much can be so cruel.

Tags: angst, hate comments, self-doubts, Felix is an idol in this one, and you’re like his not so secret girlfriend, the company is chill but the fans aren’t, mentions of other stray kids members

It's a simple routine. As you unlock your phone you immediately swipe away about twenty different notifications from different social media accounts without even looking at them. You are not even sure why you even still bother with an Instagram and all of that. Maybe you should just go private again. Or delete everything. But that would feel like defeat. Like giving up. So instead you just try to not look at the mean words people are spouting at you on the daily. When it first started you still tried to report every single comment. Blocked every person who insulted you. But once the comments became too many to count you gave up on that as well.

But it's fine. Ignore them all. Swipe it away. Don't look at it. Focus on the nice comments. The people that spammed flame emojis under your recent Instagram selfie. The ones leaving nice comments and replies. Or at least those, that seem neutral. The ones that like to joke around or post memes. Damn, even the people that drop Loona fancams under your tweets are bearable.

But you can ignore them all for the sake of the one message that you actually want to read.

cuddly coala boy: are you going to be watching me later tonight?? i hope you're not mad that i had to cancel our skype date because of this :((

The text came at exactly 4:35 in the morning. Well, 4:35 in the morning in your timezone. That means for him it must have been... wait, what's the time difference again? Where even is he right now? You are too lazy to actually look up timezones right now to properly calculate the difference, but you decide to assume that it was a reasonable time. Well, at least you hope it was fairly reasonable. With the way his schedule works it's not unusual for him to send you messy texts full of typos past midnight when he is exhausted from a day of dance practice and vocal training and he just fell into bed after a quick shower and decided to send you a short text, already half asleep. It's also not rare for him to text you early in the morning. When he is on his way to his first schedule of the day. Early in the morning, but already buzzing with energy and excitement. Sometimes he'd send pictures of his breakfast and gush about the organic canteen. In summer he sent you a picture of the sunrise almost every morning. Because in summer the sun rises so early, that most people sleep through this daily spectacle of nature. But those that are woken up at five in the morning – even earlier on some days – never miss out on a sunrise. And you get to see those pictures of the sunrise in a different country, mostly after you've already missed the sunrise in your own location. Most of the pictures weren't even that special, some of them even too blurry to make out more than washed-out colours and the rough outlines of buildings. On some mornings the sky was too cloudy to show more than a lighter stripe of colour beneath a layer of grey and blue. But even on those days, Felix made it a point to show you the sunrise. And you have all of those pictures saved. Because you are just so goddamn whipped for this sunshine of a boy who sends you pictures of the actual sun every morning alongside a happy good morning text.

I'm not mad at all!! I know that work comes first, I'm sure we'll be able to make up for that skype date, have fun later, I might join when I have the time, but you know how the vlive times sometimes don't work with the timezones :/

It takes you a good fifteen minutes or so until you have finally typed up a reply that you are actually confident sending. You don't want to show that you are actually upset. You don't want to make him feel bad for having to cancel your plans. But it's probably obvious that you feel a little bitter about this. You were understanding the first few times this happened. And of course, you are still understanding. You knew that things would probably be like this. But it's becoming harder to hide your disappointment with every skype call that has to be moved to a different date. Every delayed reply. Every day that passes with just a few short messages being sent back and forth during water breaks.

But you know what you signed up for when you not only agreed on trying this long distance relationship, but trying it with an idol on top of the insane timezone difference.

Seeing the friendly kid you used to go to school with on television was already a weird experience. But finding out that he had become a K-Pop star felt like some kind of fever dream. To be completely honest you didn't even know what K-Pop was until you heard Felix – and his bandmate Chan – talk about it on national television. Your mother had called you downstairs in a frenzy to make you watch the special report. When you got there she was pointing at the screen excitedly, asking you over and over look, look, isn't this a boy you used to go to school with? Did you know that he's famous in Korea now? Isn't this crazy? You could certainly agree with her on that last question. To make a long story short, you spent pretty much the rest of that day – and most of the following week – researching every available bit of information about this K-Pop thing and the group your school friend was now part of. You listened to and downloaded their entire discography within one day. Watched every music video and memorised the member's faces within hours. And in the following days, you went through every vlive video and any other content you could find. Saying you were hooked would have been an understatement.

The thought of reaching out to Felix hadn't crossed your mind until maybe two weeks into your newly discovered obsession. It was a suggestion by a friend who you had a couple of courses together with. She had brought the idea up completely nonchalantly as if just hitting up a celebrity is a thing you do every other day. When you expressed that sentiment she just shrugged as if to say dunno, but weren't you friends with him?

Well, she wasn't really wrong about that. But she also wasn't really right. Sure, Felix and you went to school together. You had classes together for three years and you saw him pretty much every other day. But you were never super close to him. Felix was just that kind of person that everyone was on good terms with. He'd sit down at a different table at lunch every day, nerds and jocks were equally welcoming of him. Everyone likes having Felix around, but he wasn't insanely popular either. If someone would have asked about Felix the most common answer would have been something along the lines ah yeah, that guy, he's really nice, we don't really hang out outside of school though. That was just the kind of relationship almost everyone had with him, the kid you'd do group projects or share a lunch table with but not necessarily your first pick when you wanted to put together a group for karaoke that weekend. So Felix and you weren't really friends. You remember being in a group project with him once and for maybe a month or so he even was your lab partner until the seats were switched but that's pretty much it. Maybe you had a bit of a fleeting crush on him back then. Most girls had. The freckles dusting his cheeks and the big brown eyes gave him something adorable and his sunny personality matched that all too well. But back then as well you never considered acting on those feelings and years later you had almost completely forgotten about them altogether.

Tracking him down was hard, but easier than you thought it would be. Of course, the old phone number you managed to find in some inactive group chat didn't work anymore. And any social media you ever knew he had was deactivated. But somehow – through a friend of a friend of an acquaintance – you managed to get in contact with him again. And you immediately remembered what you had liked about Felix back then. Talking to him was as easy as ever. Somehow texting him didn't feel like talking to a celebrity, but just casually catching up with an old friend from school. Texting every once in a while turned into chatting almost daily. Then the phone calls started. Late-night rambling, one of you always tired from the time zone difference. The first face time call was an accident – at least that's what Felix told you – but the second wasn't. And neither was the twentieth. You've lost count at this point.

The status of your relationship with Felix has been a mystery to you for the longest time. It was clear to you that that little fleeting crush you used to have had come back at ten times the intensity and you were pretty sure that Felix must at least enjoy talking to you enough to stay up way past the time where he should go to sleep at. But even with mutual feelings, there were more than enough stones in your way. Him being a celebrity and the several hour time difference plus living in different countries are probably some of the most obvious trials.

Let's just say it worked... somehow. Is still working. Even if it's tough sometimes. You've seen Felix a total of three times since making it official and all of these were just for a couple of days at most. There's always schedules he has to attend, filming to be done. Your schedules don't match up at all, he has so little free time that you have no other choice than to arrange yourself around it. Make amends. Compromise.

That's not really the problem here. The official part of the whole making it official is actually the root of all evil. Surprisingly enough Felix's company actually allowed him to make an official statement regarding his relationship status and confirming that he was indeed seeing someone. Of course, you were never mentioned by name. But someone somewhere must have taken a picture of you and him meeting up that one time. And someone else must have somehow identified you on that picture and shared your Instagram. And twitter. And pretty much any other public social media you had at that point. All of that within an hour of the announcement being made. You never openly confirmed or denied any "rumours" - or maybe accusations is the more fitting term here – about you and Felix dating. But you didn't have to. They knew enough to hate you for "stealing" him away from them. Of course, not all of them hate you. Some are actually supportive of the relationship. Though that's definitely only because they support Felix and want to see him happy, not because anyone really cares about your hurt feelings here. Then there's also a couple of fans that just ignore the whole thing entirely. According to them, it's all just rumours and there is no way that Felix is actually seeing someone. Don't you know he's a sweet gay baby, uwu? He's actually dating [insert whoever they ship him with here]. At least these comments can be kind of entertaining to read. Sometimes. You've scrolled past entire think pieces and page-long analysis of the smallest interactions turned into super definite proof that there is more going on between those two band members behind the scenes. They are delusional, but at least they are mostly harmless.

And then there are people who just straight-up hate you. And maybe that group is not actually as big as it seems but they are loud. So goddamn loud. And they are mean. You have switched accounts, gone private, deleted and remade. Everything in a desperate attempt to hide from the comments. But they always find you somehow. There is no escape.

A new notification pops up on your phone, you try not to look at it as you delete it but you catch enough of a glimpse to get the gist of it.

You're not good enough... you don't deserve to be with him... you should just do him a favour and break up, he's probably just to nice to do it himself.

It's always the same, you've read it hundreds of times, in every possible phrasing and variation. The bad thing though, you're starting to believe that they might actually be right.

The vlive is happening around noon in your time, which is at least kind of reasonable compared to other times that you have set an alarm to watch some kind of stream or award show or anything similar. You actually don't really want to watch, at least not for your own entertainment. Watching these things for yourself has kind of stopped working after... well yeah, after all that's going on. But you know that Felix would be happy, knowing that you are watching him. So maybe you'll tune in for a bit during your lunch break. Just long enough to take a screenshot and send it to him alongside a short text telling him that you are watching the live and that you really aren't mad. You aren't mad. Just scared.

You click the notification as soon as it appears on your phone. One of the few notifications you are actually happy to receive. The app takes a moment to load and by the time the stream is actually playing it's already flooded with viewers. But the picture is not moving. Or at least the three boys in the frame aren't moving. But you notice something in the background, maybe some kind of curtain, being moved by a breeze. Still, the trio keeps up their game for another few seconds until they all break out into wide grins and start talking. Felix is sitting in the middle, wedged in between Jisung and Hyunjin. The three of them are sitting behind a table that has various playthings scattered on the polished hardwood surface. You spot a box filled with Jenga pieces, next to a card game and a rubik’s cube. You take a couple of screenshots and tap out to send one of them to Felix, of course he won't see it right now but you want to prove that you were actually watching live. When you open the stream again they are already building up the Jenga tower while joking around with each other. Even though you didn't plan to stick around you watch them play games and talk for a while. It's nice. You can almost imagine yourself sitting in a room with them, laughing, cracking jokes and enjoying yourself. You can almost imagine being this close to Felix. Both physically close enough to be in a room with him as well as close enough for him to introduce you to his friends and be allowed to hang out with the group. It's almost in your reach. Almost perfect. Almost.

Felix is messing with the rubik’s cube, trying to solve it after he has insisted for minutes that he knows how it's done, Hyunjin is stopping the time on his phone while Jisung is going through the comments. You yourself haven't dared to take a look at them yet. Even here you aren't save. Most of the time they are flying by so fast that you can't even finish reading one before the next one jumps into vision.

Where is-

can you say hi to-

omg i-

notice me ple-

Most of it is short comments like this, some are just emojis (mostly every different kind of heart there is), wild key smashing and a plethora of "i love you"s in different languages. But some stick out. Some are different. The username is the first thing you notice about that one specific comment.

felix's_girlfriend

When you first made your account you thought about claiming that name for yourself. Just as a joke. But it was already taken. And so was felix's_wife, ilovefelix, freckleslover or any other possibility you could think of. Even when you started adding numbers to the names you couldn't get them. There are at least fifteen people using some variation on Felix's girlfriend as their username. You stopped trying after that.

Jisung probably spots the comment about at the same time as you did.

"Yo, someone with the username felix's_girlfriend just asked when you will finally do a dance cover of the latest Twice song", he says. Or at least something along the lines. You practised Korean to be able to at least get the gist of what's going on when they are talking, but you can't always understand everything. But you sure do understand the way Felix's head just whips up. Like that of a puppy delighted to see its owner coming back home.

"She's watching?", he asks. This time you understand clearly. Jisung looks back at him for a moment, a mixture of shock and surprise on his face. Felix isn't supposed to talk about you. Not here.

"It's just that person's username", he answers, after a moment of silence. Felix's bright smile drops for a moment, but then he nods his head and laughs as if someone just made an amazing joke. The boys continue talking about the Twice comeback and other promotions that are currently going on as if nothing happened. Hyunjin rambles about Got7 while Jisung jokes about how Seungmin is probably really excited about Day6. But the people in the comments are not willing to let go of what happened quite as easily.

I hope that bitch just disappears someone writes. Felix should break up with her, she's not good enough. You can't pretend to not notice it any longer. And maybe the boys noticed too, at least they don't read out any other comments after that one. But you don't really stick around for that long after. You are clearly not welcome here.

The thing is, that you never wanted to drag Felix into this mess. Of course, he is already a part of it, but you didn't want to let him see all of the ugly things that they are saying about you two. Well, in the end it's mostly you they are mad at. Some fans have commented that they are mad or disappointed that Felix would date someone, but they don't say the same things about him that they say about you. And you're glad. You wouldn't wish this on anyone. Especially not Felix, who is always so bright and full of love for his fans. You know that he loves that. He's said it numerous times. And even when he doesn't say it with words, it's obvious. He says it with the way he always smiles and waves at the camera, with all that he pours into performances, with the energy and passion he gives. He loves them.

Felix has never said the l-word to you.

Your phone rings about three hours later. You are hesitant to pick up when you see his name light up on the screen, but you don't want to lead him to believe that you are mad at him or anything.

"Hey there, why are you calling? Isn't it the middle of the night where you are?" You try to make your voice sound cheerful. Like you are a little surprised that he is calling you at that time but all in all happy that he is calling you. Confused, but a pleasant kind of surprise. You're probably not all that convincing, but maybe it's enough since this is just a phone call. Not even video this time.

"Ah, I just wanted to check in on you", Felix replies. His voice sounds a little bit drowsy. A soft kind of deep rumble. Bedroom voice, but not the sexy kind. The soft I'm about to curl up and fall asleep voice. You've heard that before, fell asleep to that soft voice talking to you over the phone. For a moment you almost crack. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them away quickly.

"Oh, I'm fine, just got back home a while ago, going to make myself some food soon. How was your day, did that live go well?"

"Hmm, did you watch it?"

"Oh, just for a bit. I was... busy." Somehow you feel guilty saying it like that. Sure, you did only watch maybe about half of it. You told him in advance that you probably wouldn't watch the whole thing. But you have a feeling that there is a reason he is asking. And you are purposely avoiding it. Felix stays silent for a moment, maybe hesitant to bring it up himself. And for a moment you hope that he just won't. That you can both pretend that everything is alright and just joke around like usual. When he finally does speak his voice sounds so sad.

"There were some... not so nice comments about you. Did you see them?"

You consider lying but you don't see the point in it. He probably knows that you have seen them.

"Yeah."

"Do they often say things like that to you?"

"... yeah."

"That's... awful. I'm so sorry."

You take a deep breath. You really never wanted him to find out about how cruel the fans he loves so much can really get. Of course he knew that not everyone approved of him having a relationship and of course he's seen some of the gossip articles that the tabloids write about you. But what the fans say behind the protection of anonymity is so much worse than that.

"It's not your fault", you mutter finally. You can hear Felix take a deep breath as well.

"You don't- you don't believe what they say, do you? You know that I would never break up with you just like that. You are enough. More than I could ever ask for."

You aggressively blink your eyes a couple of times and tilt back your head. You don't want to cry. It always becomes obvious in your voice when you start crying and you really don't want to worry him any more.

"I know, but it's nice to hear. Thank you."

There's noises in the background. Some loud clatter, like dishes falling over and then several voices talking over each other. You haven't thought about it yet but Felix must be calling you from the dorm. There is the sound of a door being opened, a little noise of surprise and then it's being shut close again. Probably someone looking for Felix.

"You should probably hang up soon", you mumble. Not because you want him to, but because you know that the longer this goes on the harder it will be for you to not burst into tears.

"I guess. I'll call you again tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, I'd like that very much."

"Great then... good night."

"Goodnight."

"Hey, (y/n), I love you."

"I love you too, Felix."

[365days365movies]

February 19, 2021: The Phantom of the Opera (Review)

44%. And that is generous as SHIT.

Oh, I’ll break it down, but I just wanted to get that out of the way now. FUCK this movie, it’s goddamn terrible. I swear, Joel Schumacher is not my filmmaker, holy SHIT. Genuinely severely disliked this movie. Girlfriend was harsher (as she often is with movies), and gave it a 40%. Here she is after seeing it.

Ravishing. Anyway, yeah, this movie was genuinely kind of terrible. And that’s actually nothing against the musical itself. Just like Tom Hooper’s Cats, which I say in theaters, I’m sure the stage musical is legitimately better than...this. And I’ll explain my issues in the Review down below. Recap of this train wreck can be found here and here.

Review

Cast and Acting: 2/10

WHY GERARD BUTLER? SOMEBODY TELL ME WHY. He’s bad. He’s BAAAAAAAAAAD. And I’m obviously late to the game on this one, but GODDAMN. HE. IS. NOT. GOOD. Here’s a less-popular take, I think: I don’t like Emmy Rossum either. She’s OK, but she doesn’t quite have the singing chops needed for this role. I’m not convinced that the theatre owners would pass up Carlotta’s singing voice for hers, honestly. Speaking of Carlotta, Minnie Driver‘s extremely over-the-top performance may be the only thing I actually enjoyed about the movie in terms of performance. Can’t say that for Patrick Wilson, whose bad accent and singing didn’t endear me to his performance even a little. Everybody else ranged from mediocre to downright abysmal. And I’m not one to badmouth people, but they should NOT have been cast in this movie. Oh, and the chemistry, between two couples in this movie? BOUGHT NONE OF IT. GODDAMN, THAT SCORE IS GENEROUS, THIS WAS BAAAAAAAD.

Plot and Writing: 4/10

Look, the plot’s OK, but the writing and the way dialogue is handled isn’t. The GF made a point about movie musicals risking being a bastardization of a stage musical, because of the inherent differences between cinema and the stage. And this movie should’ve been a film before it was a musical, that’s for sure. So, who wrote the screenplay? Well, Andrew Lloyd Webber, for one. And while it’s not a bad thing to have the originator of the musical be a major part of the screenwriting process...he’s also not a filmmaker. So his work definitely should’ve been balanced out by his co-writer...Joel Schumacher. We’ll get to Schumacher, but he’s only written one movie that critics like, Car Wash. And while I think there are various reasons for that success, he’s not exactly great at writing musicals...or movies...or directing those movies. What I’m saying is, they REALLY needed another pair of eyes here.

Directing and Cinematography: 5/10

OK, let’s get this out of the way: I don’t like Joel Schumacher. I just don’t. Haven’t seen a film of his that I’ve liked, but I’ve only seen four of them to be fair. Batman Forever and Batman and Robin are guilty pleasures, and you could argue that they’re a take on the Silver Age Batman stories, sure...but they’re still bad movies, I don’t think you can argue that shit. And The Wiz is...OK. It’s OK, but I also don’t think that you can argue that it’s a good movie, or a good adaptation of a stage musical. 

And this movie isn’t much different in terms of direction. But even then, it’s not...terrible. There are some good shots in there, and some competent camera work throughout. Same goes for the shot construction and cinematography. So, why the hell is it so low? Because, well...it’s still pretty goddamn bad. Especially the LIGHTING OH GOD. The lighting in some scenes is just...genuinely terrible. Who did the cinematography, anyway? John Mathieson, who also did...Gladiator. Huh. He won awards for that one. And then...X-Men: First Class, Kingdom of Heaven, Pan, Robin Hood, Detective Pikachu...the next Doctor Strange movie. Wow. Mixed record, there, but some solid cinematography. So, that means that the problem here was mostly the directing, with a splash of cinematography problems as well. Damn, Schumacher, what the hell?

Production and Art Design: 7/10

Actually, this was pretty good, real talk. Yeah, the costume and set designs were solid throughout. This movie looked great! Just didn’t use any of that bombast well. Was it perfect, though? I present to you Gerard Butler’s GODDAMN FACE. Yeah, arguably one of the most important parts of the story, and his face constantly changed from shot to shot. Genuinely bad makeup there. How about Patrick Wilson’s terrible wig? There are problems, is what I’m saying.

Music and Editing: 4/10

Some of you are probably freaking out at that score. Let me explain, though. The music itself is, of course, fantastic, and I’m only talking off one point from it because of the singers and how some of the music is actually used in the film. Could’ve been used better in a few places, is all I’m saying. Ahh, but that’s only one point; what happened to the other 5? Ahem.

FUCK THE EDITING OH MY GOD!!!!! If I can express hatred towards ONE THING more than ANYTHING ELSE in this movie, it’s the GODDAMN EDITING! It is terrible. IT. IS. TERRIBLE. And all I have to say is, WHAT THE FUCK TERRY RAWLINGS? You’re actually a decent editor, and we’ve been you here before, with GoldenEye! That editing was fine, what happened here? I don’t know exactly what happened, but this was his last film. Not because he died, because he passed away in 2019. But dude edited FUCKING BLADE RUNNER!!! This movie’s editing was SO BAD, that it DRIVE THE DUDE INTO RETIREMENT!!! MY GOD.

So, yeah, it’s a 44%.

Look, I really don’t like this movie. It’s a bad movie, and not in a “so-bad-it’s-good” way. It’s just bad. It’s just...BAD. And I was gonna watch another musical after this, but...no, I need a break. What else is on my list? I need something good, something acclaimed, something...romantic, for God’s sakes. And maybe...something familiar?

February 20, 2021: An Affair to Remember (1957)

[darawonplease]

trauma. ch4 - hangover soup.

Dara has to deal with the insistent hangover while his manager recalls why she avoids drinking so much.

characters. Eun Jiwon x Sandara Park

warnings. swearing

a.n. I’m finally back! I want to quickly thank the subscribers that reached out to me and gave me the inspiration to go back to writing! Thank you! The chapter is kinda short but I hope you’ll like it, I already have a couple of ideas for the upcoming chapters that I hope you’ll enjoy. So without further ado, happy reading!

chapter 4, hangover soup.

[ dara pov ]

CLANG!

A loud thud suddenly echoed through the living room, abruptly waking me up from my slumber.

“Shit- These damn pots-”.

A male voice came from the kitchen.

“Goddamn- I'm so clumsy, these damn hands are useless”.

j-jiwon oppa?

is he still here?

what time is it?

did I pass out drunk on the couch yesterday night?

gosh.

what if I snored?

how can I look at him in the eyes now?

after everything i put him through yesterday...

I panicked as I tried to sit up, drowned in the white fluffy blanket the covered my entire body. Birds were chirping happily; a light breeze came from the slightly opened window on the right.

“How do you feel?”.

“oppa...” - my voice cracked as I spoke; my throat was dryer than a desert because of all the alcohol I had consumed in the evening.

“Oppa? - This is the first time you address me like that”.

I squeezed my eyes, a male figure appeared behind the counter of the kitchen, opposite the couch.

“Sandara-ssi? Are you okay?”. He asked in a worried voice.

sandara-ssi?

since when jiwon oppa calls me sandara-ssi?

“I can’t even get mad at you because you look so terrible”.

The figure got clearer as the sunlight slowly filled the living room, it must’ve been 7 or 8 o’clock by then.

“Ma-manager-nim? When did you get here?!”.  

was that really wonjun-ssi? This is the first time I hear him swearing.

I covered myself up with the blanket, I felt so guilty now that I had to confront Wonjun-ssi for my wrong-doings, I didn’t want him to see me in that horrible state.

“Are you okay? You must be really surprised. I’m sorry”. He looked at me apologetically.

He removed the beige kitchen apron he was wearing over his short-sleeved button-down, untying the knot on his back and hanging it back up in its original spot.

Wonjun-ssi was a very neat and precise person, no wonder his job was being my manager. Without him, I would’ve been completely lost after parting ways with Jjangme-oppa.

Always at least an hour and a half in advance for everything, being late wasn’t an option. He did his very best to always make me feel comfortable with him; however, I felt like the uneasiness never really diminished, perhaps because I couldn’t accept that, although he was very good at his job, he simply wasn’t Jjangme-oppa.

I was the very first idol he managed, he barely even knew about 2NE1, he thought I was an influencer and occasionally, an actress.

Truth to be told, that kind of hurt me, as I held to my singer title tightly; him not knowing about my music career just confirmed the fact that I became Sandara Park - the actress, still I couldn’t be more grateful as he took care of me very earnestly, always going out of his way to make my life somehow easier.

With him, I felt like a kid who was about to get scolded by his parent.

“Ouch-…".

I reached for my head with my hands, a grunt of discomfort leaving my lips.

“Sorry for waking you up like that, I dropped the pot all of a sudden and-”.

did jiwon oppa manage to go home in the end?

i bothered him so much yesterday...

“Sandara-ssi”.

“Oh?”

“Are you even listening to me? You’re still half-asleep, huh?”.

I simply nodded, I just couldn’t help but think about him.

“On the other hand- I would’ve woken you up anyways- Come on Sandara-ssi, have a bowl of hangover soup”.

“H-how do you know I’m hungover?!”.  

“Well... You told me just now”. A sigh left his lips as a disappointed expression spread on his face.

“A-ah, I guess I did” - I broke into nervous laughter.

He kneeled to open the bottom cupboard, taking a big bowl to place on top of the counter.

“When you stop responding to my calls it only means you’re drunk”- he continued, scooping some soup into the bowl.

I smiled nervously again; Wonjun-ssi indeed knew me well. It wasn’t the first time I sneaked out, ignoring his texts and phone calls until the next morning.

I was a well-behaved idol to manage, I always avoided giving problems to manager-nim but somehow, I couldn’t trust Wonjun-ssi with my private life as much as I did with Jjangme and because of the constant monitoring he did for my company, I started to sneak out.

[…]

Wonjun couldn’t stand looking at her innocent face, his mind was playing images of that stinky man with his hands all over Sandara, taking advantage of her naiveness, eating up her innocence with such low methods.

Disgusting.

All those thoughts felt sticky to him, he suddenly felt the urge to shower, to wash away all those nauseating thoughts.

“Why didn't you take your medicines to avoid getting drunk?”.

He kneeled in front of the couch, looking at her, upset with himself for not being able to protect her.

Deep sighs interrupted the silence that reigned over Sandara’s apartment that morning.

“You always take them, Sandara-ssi". He thought as he kept circling the living room in deep thought.

who was that guy?

do you like him that much that you let him get you drunk?

you never let others get you drunk

is he that special?

of course, I can’t ask you all of this. it’s your life after all.

The smug smile on that smelly man face made him well up with anger.

As a good manager, he perfectly knew that the celebrity he was managing had an alcohol tolerance close to none. She had the good sense to take medicines before drinking any type of alcohol.

Sandara was THAT cautious.

She often seemed to exaggerate, even going to the length of taking two pills before drinking a harmless glass of champagne during parties and celebrations.

[…]

“Oh- Are we going to drink? Then I have to take my medicines”. With a hand in her Givenchy purse, she tried to find the pill packet scattered with her other belongings.  

“Jajang!” She said victoriously as the other guests looked at her in utter confusion.

“Come on Dee, it’s just Chardonnay, you won’t come out of this restaurant wasted, I promise you”. Jiyong took the packet out of her hand trying to reassure her.

“B-but...”.

[...]

It was at a YG after party event that Wonjun finally understood why she avoided alcohol.

A sudden business call urged Wonjun to go outside of the venue, the loud electronic music had boomed in his ears all evening; he was only waiting the right time to excuse himself and was lucky enough he got one before his eardrums bled.  

“Yes, I'll inform her of your offer. She’s been very busy lately; I almost had an aneurism trying to figure out her schedule, yes! Send everything in my e-mail..”

A woman standing a couple of meters from the manager started to yell all of a sudden, causing his already pounding headache to worsen.

“What’s with you all of a sudden?! You can’t just pull me out of the venue with such urgency and then refuse to talk eonni!”.

“Gosh, this person is so loud, I can’t even hear the person on the phone,” he thought as he quickly dismissed the broadcasting representative on the other side of the phone.  

Wonjun sighed, annoyed beyond measure. He was ready to turn around throw a fit, that was the last straw. He had endured everything all night, why would people yell like that outside a club? Where there’s no music?    

“It’s just that... he’s here. I thought I’d be ok if I avoided him but now, he’s here and...”. Another woman spoke up softly.

That voice was oh so familiar. He perfectly knew who that delicate voice belonged to.

The manager’s ears started to pulse, telling him to eavesdrop on their conversation instead.

“ I turned around and you’re already wasted?! Do you think getting drunk will help you getting over him eonni?”. The woman with the sharp voice scolded her, making Wonjun shiver because of how severe her tone was.

“He’s a dog, ok? You shouldn’t even consider him a man unnie” – She continued.

“B-but- chaerin-ah”.  

“No eonni. That jerk just used you. He forced you to drink just to hook up with you. You just don’t realize how vulnerable you are when you get tipsy. HE SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF HIMSELF, NOT YOU”.

Wonjun kneeled behind a car, spying on the two women; they were none other than Chaerin and her own client. Sandara Park.

“It’s my fault for liking him… I just kept drinking because I liked him…”. She wobbled as her legs weren’t reliable enough to keep her standing.

“It’s his fault for taking advantage of you in that state! Even if you should’ve drunk less he should have taken care of you instead of doing as he pleases. Stop blaming yourself. You’re the victim here unnie”.

“I’m sorry… I promised you and Bom unnie not to get fooled again but..”.  

Sandara sat on the side of the road, defeated and drunk. Hiding her face in her palms. Her sobs faintly echoing in the empty street at the back of the venue.

“Eonni. Look at me”. Chaerin kneeled in front of her eonni, slightly shaking her shoulders in the desperate attempt to make her go back to reality.

“We always end up falling for bad men… Some talk like princes but are just wolves in disguise, and you’re a cute little bunny Dara-unnie, just try to be more attentive”.

“I—just—didn’t think he’d be invited here… - I didn’t expect to see him-  so soon…”. The hiccups of the small woman made the difficult job of expressing herself even more difficult.

Chaerin brought the long sleeve of her top to her unnie’s reddened cheeks, gently drying the tears that were slowly pouring down her small face.

“... what do I do now?”. The soft-voiced woman panicked.

“I’ll talk—“.

“Chaerin eonni!  I’ve been looking for you everywhere in this club! Come back inside, the president wants to talk to you!”. One of the staff had hurriedly run up the flight of stairs leading outside just to inform the artist.

“Gosh…You know how grumpy he gets when you don’t go immediately, that man gets super impatient, you already know. I’ll be right back eonni”. She gave her eonni a pat on the back before running back inside.

Sandara nodded, giving her friend a smile, to the best of her abilities. A faint smile appeared on her lips instead.  

Wonjun hated that feeling. He hated being so involved with her work life but not being part of her actual life at all.  

Why wasn’t he able to give her a shoulder to cry on? Why wasn’t he able to make her happy instead?

He didn’t even know she was dating a man. He knew absolutely nothing.

His constant presence and monitoring didn’t mean a thing. He still couldn’t sense she actually had another life going on. He couldn’t accept the fact that he actually knew nothing about her.  

“Oh, Dara noona, you’re here”.

A tall man suddenly towered over Sandara’s small figure. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored grey suit, his black hair neatly slicked back.

“O-oh h-hi”. Sandara greeted him avoiding his gaze at all cost, a slight hint of panic in her voice slipped out.

“Wow noona, have you drank?”. The man chuckled by himself, a sense of superiority filling his ego.

“Just leave me alone”.

“You weren’t so unpleasant last week when you threw yourself in my arms”.

“S-shut up”.  

“Don’t misunderstand noona, I came here to apologize. To see you drink so desperately as soon as you’ve seen me? Didn’t think you liked me that much. I kinda pity you”.  

“P-pity me?”. Sandara tried to stand up, slowly regaining some lucidity.

“I-I pity you for b-being such a dog!”.  

“D-dog..?!”.

“Yes, I liked you! B-but you know what? You’re a terrible kisser, t-the worst ever!”

“What?!”.

“A-and your breath stinks!”.

The smug expression on the tall man vanished immediately as Sandara’s body convulsed bending forward to throw up, releasing everything on his shoes.

“HEOL, I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS. THESE ARE SO EXPENSIVE!”.

“E-expensive? Expensive my a-ass! TSK- I c-could buy you 500 pairs of those if o-only I wanted!”. She laughed as she wiped the corners of her mouth clean.

“Y-YOU!”.

Wonjun immediately ran towards the two, pretending to be there by chance.

“Uhmm- Sandara-ssi? Wow! I’m so lucky to find you here. Come on, I’ll ride you home. You have a long day ahead of yourself tomorrow!”. He nervously chuckled while helping her walk towards the company’s car parked right there.

“M-manager-nim! So good to see y-you! Cook me some hangover soup pweaseee!”. She wobbled behind Wonjun.

“Sure thing”.  He opened the car door for her.

previous chapter.  ⋆  next chapter.  ⋆ masterlist.

[porcelain--roses]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑻𝑾𝑶: 𝑊𝐸𝐿𝐿, 𝐻𝐼 𝑇𝐻𝐸𝑅𝐸.

Angelique rolled her eyes, her annoyance manifesting itself in a heavy sigh that escaped her scarlet lips. 

‘Listen, Damian—’ 

 ‘Derek, ma’am,’ her assistant — and intruder — interrupted. 

 ‘𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳,’ the witch gnarled. ‘Do you think it’s excusable to come disturb me about “a group of eccentric hippies passing Collinsport”, as if that weren't an everyday event?' 

She waved her hand in the air and returned to the files to which she had been tending before Derek, the moron, decided to come into her office yapping. ‘Now kindly scat. I’m in the middle of something important.’ 

 ‘Well, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 eccentric hippies seem to have decided to stay a while,' the man insisted. 'It seems they have been around the extremities of town for the last couple of days – a few RVs parked up next to each other.’

Angelique stopped in her tracks. 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 in Collinsport was odd news to say the least; people barely cared about visiting the town -- why would anyone be interested in moving there? 

She finally eyed her assistant attentively, resting her chin on her clenched fist and quirking her eyebrows. 

‘𝑶𝒉? Fresh meat, yes?’ 

The young man nodded. ‘Yes, ma’am. No one had ever seen them before.’

'Interesting,' Angelique muttered, nodding distractedly for a couple of seconds. ‘Well then,' she said, grinning, as she started from her seat, maybe I should pay our new neighbours a visit.’

𝘛𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, she added in her mind.

‘I'm sure a friendly little welcome won’t hurt.’

________________

The woman sat with her face stuck in a frown, poking at the remnants of last night’s fire. 

“Another disappointment.” 

It seemed that all that Collinsport had to offer her crew was more stories and local haunts— and that goddamn smell of fish. 

Anyone who could’ve testified firsthand to the atrocities committed long ago seemed dead or forgotten. 

How very odd, Rose thought to herself.

But as she sat in the summer’s heat, a shadow appeared, coming between her and the sun. “Back so soon from the grocer, Daddy?”

His Shine was a bit more powerful today, she thought. But of course, everyone had their good days... even her. 

Curious to the occasion, she looked up. “𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍... 𝑯𝒊 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆.”

________________

"𝘉𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺?" 

The blonde gave out a low chuckle. That wasn't exactly the way to which she was used to introduce herself. 

 'I'm afraid 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚 hasn't really come from the grocer,' the witch mocked, her eyes fixed on the mysterious figure. 

She came closer. The brown-haired woman was hauntingly beautiful, and the eyes beneath the obnoxious hat, the bluest she had ever seen.

𝑰 𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝒏𝒆𝒘𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆, she thought. 

 'I'm sure you've mistaken me for someone else.' She offered the woman her hand. 'Angelique Bouchard. 𝘐 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵.'

________________

Rose laughed at her mocking banter, nipping at her bottom lip as the woman introduced herself. 

With Bouchard’s hand graciously extended, Rose made a bold decision to 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆— instead, using her own weight. And once standing, she took in the figure standing before her. 

Bleach blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and of course— a pinstriped suit that plunged further than most would dare to look. Of course, Rose did. She admired a power-suit... that is, one accompanied by an equally powerful woman. 

Yes, Bouchard seemed up to par for the task. 

 “So you’re in charge of this little haunt? I do hope you haven’t received any complaints, 𝑴𝒊𝒔𝒔(?) Bouchard. Me and my 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 were just curious to the stories of this place.” 

Surely the woman emanating Shine like an exploding star could tell her a story or two.

________________

The stranger's refusal to take her hand astounded Angelique, but she could not deny that the irreverence amused her. 

She retreated her palm, eyeing the other woman from head to toe. 4

'That I am,' she responded. 'But I must admit I know nothing of these "stories" you mention.'

She hoped the deceitful tone of her words would pass unheeded. 

'Anyway, I stopped by to bid you welcome, really.' A devilishly beautiful but menacing smile crept upon her lips as the blonde reached out to gently touch the other woman's arm.

Angie knew of her power of persuasion, and she liked to make the most out of it. She loved to see people giving in to her charms; which, of course the blue-eyed stranger would, too. 

𝑾𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆? 

'I'm afraid I haven't got your name.' 

“That’s because I never gave it, ” was Rose’s most casual reply, placing her own hand atop Angelique’s. 

With a polite squeeze, she wiped it off, eyes penetrating the blonde as if she were her next meal. “But if you’re so keen to welcome me to your humble town, I suppose you could ask me over dinner.” 

 A chance to spend some time alone with her next victim? Oh, Rose could hardly contain herself. So very rarely did they waltz up to her like this. 

Not since 1852.  

Angelique quirked an eyebrow, eyed the mysterious woman from head to toe, and scoffed amusedly. 

The stranger’s petulance was rather entertaining. 

‘Dinner,’ she muttered. ‘Well, why not? Seven o’clock tonight at my place, shall we?’ She smiled stiffly.

The witch either had too much to lose or nothing at all, but the latter option seemed more like it. After all, Angie couldn’t possibly come across anyone half as powerful and menacing as her, right?

The tilt of Rose’s head seemed wholly amused ( or somewhat flattered ) by the woman’s gesture. More-so by the permanent smile resting upon her newfound companion’s face. 

“Should I assume we are dining alone, Miss Bouchard?” 

That didn’t seem mildly suspicious at all.

But her thoughts were soon interrupted by the sights of the others. True Knot’s most devoted member (besides herself), Crow Daddy, stood in front of the rest. 

Ignoring him, Rose returned to Angelique— grin partly interrupted by a newfound look of worry. 

Had they noticed too?

The blonde took a small step back when she noticed the eerie figures surrounding her and her new acquaintance. They did not look friendly — but Angie was never one to back down.

Especially not from newcomers in 𝑯𝑬𝑹 town.

Tilting her chin up, she shook the feeling of threat off, but the pearly smile was gone from her lips. 

‘Unless you’d like your friends to join us,’ she purred as she glanced back at the brunette. ‘I suppose that’s... 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒚?’ she taunted, eyeing the man who led the others.

Rose 𝒅𝒊𝒅 feel a tinge if embarrassment at the nickname she deemed her... 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒓— as evident by the widening of her eyes as it escaped those pillowy lips. 

“I’m sure I could escape them for a few hours,” she said, stepping forward to return the distance that had previously been between them. 

“In fact— I would request that you 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕 that much, Miss Bouchard. I might dread any one of them 𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 you from me.”

Especially if they had already detected her Shine. 

But a grin had returned to her face, trying to save the moment with a final burst of charm. 

“What do you say? Would you have me all to yourself?”

Angie easily recognised the tinge of flirt in the woman's words, but remained unfazed — even though on the inside she was savouring every bit of it. 

She bobbed her head:— 'I think some 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒄𝒚 would do us good, yes.' A side smirk crept on her lips in spite of her wishes.

And speaking of privacy, the witch had no desire to let the meddling, ill-looking people around them know her address, and so she stepped closer to the stranger, leaned into her ear, and whispered slowly, 

'My house is the only mansion in town. You shouldn't have much trouble finding it -- but if you do, just ask around for what was formerly known as the 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒔 residence.' 

 And then she simply walked away, not a single glance back. 

________________

The way she walked away was with such confidence... it was hard to dismiss the small swing in her hips. 

Yes, the blonde was certainly proud of herself, wasn’t she? Alas, there was no time to dwell on that, as her posse soon accompanied her. 

 “Who was that?” 

“An acquaintance,” Rose replied in a rather innocent lilt. It was hardly a lie, that was for sure. 

“She seemed full of 𝒊𝒕...” 

 “Hush, Crow.”

Unfortunately, her dark-haired companion didn’t take so kindly to this, taking Rose to the side and grasping her hand as if it was a threat. 

( Even Grandpa Flick seemed to kiss his teeth in disapproval. ) 

“You’re not holding out on us, are you Rosie?” 

“Of 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 not. You think I’d let all of us starve for some city bitch in high heels? I want to know if there are more of them here.” 

He didn’t seem wholly satisfied with her answer, but it didn’t matter. Rose jerked her hand from his, stomping off to her RV. 

“𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆...” 

“I’ll drain that damn Shine from her fighting corpse when the time is right, but not before I get the information that 𝑰 want.” 

The door slammed behind her, rushing to the sink to wash her face. After all, the Irish Rose would need to present her best side tonight. She’d need to be ready for whatever the evening brought. 

And since it seemed like it would be a rather formal dinner, it was eventually decided that she could ditch her overtly Bohemian style for one night.

Searching her small closet, she fingered through every skirt until she reached a deep blue suit with a satin collar. 

“Power suits,” she mumbled to herself. 

“I do wonder if Miss Bouchard is accustomed to being the 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 big fish in her little pond. Such a  𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚 little thing... but a damn good waste.”

________________ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ༄

[cal-puddies]

your kind of heaven || pt 5. to hell and back pt 1. || luke hemmings

pt 1. || pt 2 || pt. 3 || pt. 4 || pt. 5 || Pt. 6 || pt. 7 || pt. 8 || pt. 9 || pt. 10

“I love her so much.” Luke whispers.

“I know, Luke.”

He hangs up,  takes Petunia out; he thinks. Time, what time; how long since you’d left the house? It was about 11. He decides. It’s a little after 5 am, he notes.

“I gotta go check on Mom, pretty girl.” He says to the dog.

Ash lets himself in, he hugs Luke. “You ready?” He asks.

“Yeah mate. I think I have everything.”

“Keys, phone, wallet? Don’t think you’ll need anything else.” Ash says.

Luke pats his pockets and then Ash leads him out to his car.

Cal’s arms are crossed over his chest, he’s tucked in a corner alone, his hoodie swallowing and concealing him the best it could. He became instantly more conspicuous when Luke and Ashton show up.

“Anything?” Luke asks, as he takes a seat next to Calum.

“No mate. Not yet. They won’t tell me anything. Did you check in with the nurses?” He asks.

“Yeah, they’re paging a doctor.” Ash pipes up.

“Thank god.” Calum sighs.

“How long ya been here?” Luke Asks.

“Couple hours. It was impossible to get a hold of you.” Cal says.

“It was a long day… tough morning, bad afternoon, worse evening.” Luke starts.

“What happened?” Ash asks. “You couldn’t keep your hands off of her last night.”

“You know Luke and her and the red bottoms.” Cal smirks, tapping Ashton’s shoulder.

“Right? She did look good last night.” Ash agrees.

“God was that just last night? It feels like a lifetime ago already.” He sighs, wiping his hand over his face. “I guess I called her Sierra this morning. I have no reason to doubt her, and she was rightfully upset. But then Sierra is posting every picture under the goddamn sun from the last three weeks and talking about how much she misses me and it’s not doing any favors for my wife.”

“Yeah… saw those.” Calum looks over at them. “She shouldn’t be ok with that and I hope you realize that.”

“I know… I do. I was being so stupid to think it looked innocent. Of course it didn’t. It wouldn’t. Sierra is all over me whenever she sees me.”

“Mr. Hemmings?” A man in a white coat asks from the door of the waiting room. Luke’s head snaps up and he jumps up quickly.

“Hi, I’m Luke.” He introduces.

“You’re very lucky, Luke,” the doctor starts, “this could have been way worse. She’s bruised, slightly concussed. She has a broken arm and stitches here and there. Her seatbelt saved her life.”

“Can I see her?” Luke’s panic becomes evident to the doctor then.

“Yes, right this way.” The doctor leads Luke toward your room.

The paps were all over this, between the subsequent DUI, though just under the limit, the posts from Sierra, and Luke caught in public with her before it all went down, you were now getting divorced, and you and Luke ‘hadn’t talked’ in weeks.

The last bit wasn’t true, but it was something you’d have to live through. You were now conveniently never seen together even though you were out in public holding hands or kissing more than ever. But every time you’d get coffee with Cal and Duke, the entire world knew, and you were leaving Luke for Cal.

Or Luke was leaving you for Sierra? You couldn’t be sure anymore. Either way, they thought your marriage was in jeopardy and everyone that knew you, knew otherwise.

“Hey, want me to wash your hair?” Luke asks, you’re standing in the bathroom trying to put your hair up to skip yet another day. He grins at you from the doorway. “Or… isn’t it about time for a change? We can go out, have a day. Hair and nails. I need some shoes…” he moves closer, touching you.

“Yeah… that sounds fun. But…” you shrug.

Luke can tell you aren’t all in yet, “but?” He asks, pulling you into him.

“I’m like… exhausted from constantly putting our relationship on display…. like i get it, and I know it’s what management wants so we look like we’re fine. But I feel like we’re fine and I don’t feel like we HAVE to do this. They already wanna tell me when we’re having kids.”

“Well the really nice thing about MY management team is that YOU don’t have to listen to them.” He laughs. “But I do think we should spend the day together.” He kisses your forehead, “starting with… getting clean.”

Luke loves on you, he’s holding you, kissing on you. He’s happy to help with anything you need. He has been since you got home and talked everything out. It wasn’t an easy conversation but now when Sierra is posting, you and Luke aren’t paying it any attention.

“I love you.” He whispers, hoisting you on the counter after the shower.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “ Love you baby.” You whisper back.

“Can I…?” He trails off, but you can feel his hard on and his fingers are slowly pushing the towel up on your thigh.

“Yeah, please.” You nod.

He leans in and kisses you, dropping his towel. He pulls at your towel, so it’s open and pools at your waist. His fingertips gently caress your sides, “so beautiful.” He whispers.

Luke grabs you at your knee, hoisting it up over his hip. He carefully guides himself in. “Luke.” You whine into his chest.

“You ok baby?” He asks, holding the back of your head.

“Yeah Luke.” You whimper, biting into his shoulder.

Luke grips tight onto your hips, he works himself into you. “I never get tired of how you feel.” He groans.

Your finger nails dig into his neck. “Always so good.”

The steam from the shower, and your damp bodies was making this hotter than normal, but you weren’t complaining by any means. You loved Luke and you loved being with Luke. His broad shoulders made you feel safe but you found them incredibly sexy at the same time.

“Love it when you cum on my cock…” He moans, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb. “Love it even more when I get to fill you with cum.” His lips attach to your neck and he sucks a hickey.

“Holy fuck.” You moan, pulling his hair.

“Already baby?” He chuckles. He presses his lips to yours, “alright then my love, gimme that orgasm.” You whimper as you cum for him and then Luke uses you exactly how he wants you.

He’s careful and sweet when he cleans up. He doesn’t get mad when you steal the shirt he was planning to wear, always encouraging you to use his side of the closet as well. He loves you in his clothes.

Luke’s got his hand tight around yours. You stop at the salon first, fresh haircut, and you get a trim. Then you stop for coffee, and run into Ash and Cal, who are also on their way to the nail salon. Luke wants them to tag along because he thinks more people will notice you two with Cal around.

Then it’s lunch, just the two of you, and some shopping. Luke gets the things he needs and then he’s pulling you around a few of your favorite stores, and you’re getting new clothes and shoes too. He happily follows you around Sephora and lets you swatch anything you want on his arms and hands. You pick up dinner on the way home.

“I had a good day today Luke.” You say after getting settled in the car.

He turns and looks at you and smiles, “I did too baby.” He leans over for a kiss.

By the time you get home, there are pictures of the two of you out together on tons of social media. His team is sending texts to both of you, congratulating you on getting it done. Luke’s happy, but you’re a little annoyed. But it didn’t stop the sex that night.

Luke thought he’d been through the worst with you. But he didn’t realize this would be the last good day for awhile, and he may not have taken full advantage of that. He held you so close as you fell asleep. You could feel each other breathe.

The morning light revealed a new reality that Luke was not prepared for.

You were moody in ways he’d never experienced. You physically and emotionally pushed him away, he had to stand by and watch as you practically avoided him.

He watches as you dig through boxes, pulling out things of your ex’s.

“What are you doing?” Luke asks so so quietly.

“I miss him.” You whisper. “I felt whole… I know I can never feel that way again.”

And he thought you looked innocent, there was no malicious intent in what you said. You were just being honest.

That made it worse… because he couldn’t fault you. He could only watch you fall apart from afar.

And it progressively gets worse. It seems like the more time he had to spend away for the album, the more distant you became. The more tears you cried. The less you needed or wanted him. He didn’t know how to deal.

Luke caught you on a chatty off day, you’d talked to a few friends and exchanged a text or two with Cal. The glass of wine sat in front of you when he returned.

“Hey baby. How ya feelin?” He asks, quietly. Because if he’s too loud, you’ll break. He knew that. He couldn’t take another one, 7 this week was enough.

“I’m tired Luke.” You sniffle, “just tired. I’m sorry.” You shake your head.

“Nothing to apologize for, my love.” He assures you.

It’d been almost 3 months of you just in bed, or avoiding him. You were having trouble writing, and you ‘just didn’t feel like it.’ You weren’t eating much and he could tell, you were irritable all the time. Luke didn’t mind, he figured out how to navigate it.

“We’re gonna be leaving for tour soon.” He reminds you.

And that sends you over the edge. You push yourself against Luke, and bawl your eyes out, holding onto him tightly and mumble about how you don’t want him to go.

“Baby.” He coos in your ear, pushing his hands down your back and gripping your thighs to pull you up. You wrap your legs around him and hold onto his neck tight. “I’ll be back.” He promises.

“But what if you aren’t?” You sniffle. “What if you don’t come back to me? What if something happens? What if… what if you find someone else?” You tuck your face back against his neck, “what if something happens to me?”

“Well… I’ll work backwards,” he hums, finally sitting down on the bed with you. His lips press to the top of your head “if anything happens to you, I’ll come home immediately. I’ll never find anyone else like you. I chose you baby. I’m not gonna choose anyone else. If something happens to me, then you’ll come to me, but nothing is going to happen baby.” He feels you loosen your grip and pull away from him, he immediately wipes at your tears with his thumbs. “Why don’t you come on tour?” He whispers, “just for a little bit. That way you can see that nothing is going to happen. And we’re gonna be fine.”

“Luke…” you sniffle, “I’ve never been that girl that has to be on tour.”

“Well, you don’t have to be there but I want you there. And the guys won’t care. We can call and ask them.” He offers.

“Luke.” You start crying hard again and he pulls you back in.

He rocks you gently, and he starts humming to you. “Hate that you’re so upset.” He whispers, lips right next to your ear. “Do you need something I’m not giving you? We should go check in with the doctor.”

“I’m sorry I’m letting you down.” You sob, pulling away.

“Letting me down?” He asks, “how do you figure?”

“I’m not being a good wife, I’m barely being a good friend… I’m crying and a mess over my ex and you don’t feel like you can leave me alone at this moment, which is ridiculous, I’m almost 30.”

“Baby… if you think I didn’t think you’d always love him, well… you’re wrong. I accounted for that. I still think our love is stronger and can get us over this.” His hands wrap around yours. “And you know I never really wanna leave you alone. I always want you with me, and if you need to be with me for awhile, to feel better, then there is nothing in the world wrong with that. You’re a good wife, always. Just having a tough time right now. And that’s ok.” Luke rubs his hands up and down your back. “It’s ok baby.” He insists.

You push your face back against his neck, where you know it fits so well, and you work on calming yourself, grounding yourself. You can feel Luke’s soft t-shirt, and his warmth, his fingers gripping your skin, and his stubble. You smell his cologne, and the fabric softener you use, and the body wash he uses in the shower. You can hear his heartbeat and the soft hum he’s emitting meant to help calm you. He knows what your doing.

He feels your deep breath. And he knows you’re calming down. He’s patient and he holds you. His lips press to the top of your head. “Wanna have dinner with me?” He asks, gently rocking you.

“Yes.” You sniffle, slightly nodding your head. You let your lips ever so gently press to his neck. “I love you Luke. I know I’m a mess.” You whisper. “But if it’s really ok, I think I would like to go on tour. At least for a bit.” You sniffle again.

“I’ll get it all worked out… and we’re gonna order in. Can I run you bath?” He asks.

“I want you to get in too.”

“Whatever you want my love.” He kisses your forehead, “can’t think of a time I’d ever turn down being naked with you.” He chuckles.

Luke finds a stash of abandoned bath bombs, and picks one with glitter, completely by accident, he swears. And he doesn’t complain when you decide you want to mask, he does one too. He holds you with your back to his chest, and he’s happy to sit quietly until the water is too cold. You shower and he helps you lotion, anything to see you smile.

He lets you lay on him, head on his chest, under the soft blanket you use when your anxiety is at its worst, while he orders dinner and dessert. He mixes you a drink and lets you pick something to watch. He doesn’t care if he hates it or you’ve seen it 1000 times together, he wants you to smile.

He watches as you eat just a little bit, he counted on it actually. He got stuff that’d reheat well for a reason.

You fall asleep on him on the couch, he whispers “I love you” into the top of your head.

Taglist: @cocktail-calum @1dthewantedlove @september09241994 @youngblood199456 @lustingforwunder @calumsphile @neso-k @rosecoloredash @radmcqueen @justayoungandwisefangirl @itsnotmyblood @slimthicccal @softboycal @lietoash @pushthetide21 @5sosfanficrec @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @therealmrshale

gc tags: @sublimehood @sugarcoated-pain @5sosnsfw @angelbabylu @aspiringwildfire @irwinkitten @lashtoncurls @myloverboyash @singt0mecalum

masterlist || ashton || calum || luke || michael

wanna be tagged? go here

[mylifeasaserver]

My Day As It Happened: Mother's Day 2019

9AM: My stupid ass wakes up because my stupid ass volunteered to go in early because my stupid ass wants more money for storm chasing.

9:30AM: My stupid ass finally gets out of bed. I rush through the shower and head to work, making the critical mistake of missing breakfast when I have a long day ahead.

9:45AM: My stupid ass shows up to a packed parking lot with a ton of people out front. I get out of my car and some jackass in the parking lot asks me if I know how long the wait is. I inform him that I don't, I just got here. He tells me to call and find out for him, I decline. He tells me I'm lazy, in return I call him a jackass.

9:50AM: I walk in and I'm informed that I have 5 tables waiting for me - they know I always show up early so they went ahead and sat me. Joke's on them though, I only came in early because I have to poop. The GM is very displeased when I tell him I'm going to the employee bathroom and it won't be safe to enter until the door handle stops glowing.

9:56AM: I have successfully completed one of those dumps that really gives you a boost and improves your mood - deny it if you want, but you know exactly what I'm talking about.

10AM: After a thorough hand washing because I'm an asshole but I'm not disgusting, I find out that the GM went to each of my tables while I was ascending to another plane of existence and informed them I was on my way but would be a few minutes. Since they had a seat, all were comfortable with a couple minute wait.

10:15AM: All 5 tables have drinks and their orders are in. I stacked the tickets and put them all in at once. The GM tells me not to do that, but has no response when I ask him which tables I should've ignored in favor of a slower approach. It's now I'm told about our sales contest.

10:20AM: A server in the next section over asks me to pick up a 2-top she's too weeded to take. I agree. It's my newest friend Jackass, from the parking lot. OH BOY! He asks me if I regret giving him grief earlier since now I'm not getting a tip, and tells me to be honest. The smug look falls off his face when I tell him I don't care, as I'll have more than enough tables today so his non-tip won't even register. I'll still give him passable service though. He orders.

10:55AM: All 6 of my tables have their food, full drinks, and their check. All of them, even Jackass, are happy with the level of service they were given. I know because Jackass was the worst tip at 13%. It was nice that we could reach some level of understanding.

12:15PM: The kitchen comes to a standstill. No orders leave for 15 minutes, and none of the servers know why. I never did find out. I didn't ask either, so there's that.

1:30PM: We're off wait, and sections are adjusted for the night servers. Most of us get a 5 table section. The hostess, the really good one, starts apologizing to me. She double sat me 2-tops and doesn't want me to get mad at her. I laugh because double sat 2-tops is nothing. She's a good kid. I tell her if any server gives her shit about such a ridiculous thing to tell them to go bus themselves.

2PM: I get double sat again - a 5-top and a 10-top, but right next to one another. Company policy is anything over an 8-top requires 2 servers, but company policy can go fuck itself.

2:15PM: The 5 top has ordered, the 10 isn't even all here. I cleverly get drinks for those that are there, because that's less I have to do later. One of the adults spills his water.

2:20PM: The water mess is cleaned up, and the people at both tables have a good laugh as I give the adult a kid's cup. Now having a good time, both tables interact with one another and me. A good tip is all but guaranteed. I have no other tables, so I take the time to fuck around with people in my section.

2:30PM: The rest of the 10-top arrive, and they all order what I recommend. All ten of them - this really bodes well for the sales contest.

3PM: The 5-top is happily chatting with one another after finishing their meal. At this point they can camp all night and I wouldn't care. The 10-top is happily eating the food I recommended. Since the window (where food magically appears in the kitchen for servers to run, for those of you who don't work in a restaurant) is clear and I have no dirty tables, I start walking around the dining rooms looking for dishes to take or refills to get to help coworkers. I find two tables that say they've been waiting 25 minutes for service.

3:15PM: I find out that Duckface showed up, checked in with the hosts, and then promptly got sent home because she wouldn't put her goddamn phone away. Nobody thought to tell the hosts. Now I have tables in 2 dining rooms. Delightful. Their orders are in and I offer both tables a free dessert for the inconvenience.

4PM: Both neglected tables have eaten and enjoyed their free dessert. I tell the GM what I did and he flips his shit - telling me I can't go giving food away. I tell the GM I planned to pay for the desserts myself and show him the slip to prove it, and then tell him I'll buy anything I want for my tables. I get enough off of both tables to buy the desserts 7.5 times over. I know how to handle annoyed people.

5PM: I have no tables anywhere in the dining room, but the hostess who sucks at her job decides to try something new: following rotation. Soon I have 3 tables. All are super chill people.

5:30PM: The GM asks me if I can take a 17-top on my own. I look at my three tables - none of which need a damn thing - and tell him that yes, I can take a 17 on my own. Company policy clearly only applies when it's convenient, so I can conveniently circumvent it when it suits me. I make a mental note to remember this table for when I defy policy in the future.

5:45PM: I only have the 17 people at this point. Their order is in. They have drinks.

6PM: The order for the 17 top comes out of the kitchen. 3 steaks were overcooked, 2 plates had the wrong sides, and 2 of the delivered plates weren't what was supposed to be part of the order. First thought I have? HOW DID I FUCK IT UP SO BAD? Wasn't me. Fortunately, the steaks were mid rare, sides are an easy fix, and the other 2 plates were an easy fix. The people were cool about it. I do not offer free desserts.

7PM: The 17-top is done eating. Prebussing is done. Checks are split and delivered. The hostess asks me if I mind being skipped in rotation so I can help another server who is having a rough time of things. I may have misjudged her, so I'm glad I follow my own advice and don't give the host(esse)s any shit. I don't care if I don't get any other tables at this point of the night since I'm due to be cut soon. The server in need of help has a particularly difficult table that's trying to do their best to be the most pain in the ass group in restaurant history. She has 2 other tables that I more or less take over. I more or less don't take the tips though, because that's not helping. I make a mental note to remember these tables for when I need help in the future...just in case.

7:10PM: The Table of Pain has successfully given their server a mini breakdown, and while she's composing herself the good manager makes a grave mistake and asks me to care for this table. The regret of this decision could weigh on her for quite some time, depending on how this plays out. The table is four bastardly old people who aren't happy with anything and hate everything. They seem to freely hurl insults at me as they did the server who is still out back.

7:15PM: I've decided that I give zero fucks about what these people think. If they want to be pissy assholes I will happily deliver a reason for it. They inform me that every time they come to our restaurant the food is bad, the service is bad, and our prices (which are pretty fucking cheap) are too high. I tell them it's mighty stupid to keep coming back when things are that bad, but that's more on them than on us. Much to my disappointment, they respond favorably to this treatment. They must have assumed I was joking.

7:20PM: I tell the Table of Pain that since they clearly don't know how to order food I'm going to order for them (coincidentally the dinner in the sales contest.) Again, they bewilder me by responding favorably to it. I decide that if they like abuse that I'm here for them. I allow them to order sides and I put the order in.

7:30PM: The Table of Pain officially becomes mine, and the other two that I more or less took over have left. Oh goody. I refill drinks at my sole table, and tell them that I don't care whether they want more to drink or not so they can deal with it. I think I have this figured out.

7:45PM: The food arrives. I put the main course (same for everybody) down on the table, and tell them they can figure out who gets what side, and then I put them down wherever there was room. The good manager hears this and drags me into the office to ask me what the hell I'm thinking.

8PM: I'm cut. I'm also not going to give the Table of Pain a chance to say they were ignored.

8:30PM: The Table of Pain is done eating. I tell them they can figure out splitting the check on their own and they decide to surprise me by using the word "please" in asking me to split it for them. I say "Fine, if you're gonna be nice about it." I split the checks and tell them to leave and not let the door hit them on the way out. They clearly must assume I'm kidding. Again I'm dragged into the office so the good manager can try and figure out what the hell I'm thinking. If they complain I'm being written up. SO SCARY!

8:35PM: The Table of Pain flags down a server and asks for the manager. She goes out. They tell her they actually enjoyed themselves "for once" and their waitress gave them a hard time and they liked it. MOTHERFUCKERS I WAS TRYING TO PISS YOU OFF SO YOU WOULDNT COME BACK! Now I get to clean my section, do my sidework, and roll silverware.

8:45PM: Reap the rewards of a 4% tip from the Table of Pain and discover the hostess that I previously thought sucked at her job had already cleared and wiped my tables for me. Now I'm tipping her out because despite company policy forbidding it, my GM has taught me to ignore policy when it suits me.

9:15PM: My side work is done. My section is cleared. I find out that I won the sales contest - and it wasn't even close - and one of the prizes offered was to skip rolling silverware. **for those wondering, the other choices were to get cut early one night this coming week, choose your section, or a free meal** I gleefully claim my prize of not rolling silverware and run the hell out of the building. All in all, a decent mother's day to work. Decent money too.

Normally I don't use my blog to advertise for anybody or anything, but my friend Jess has started doing art commissions. I enjoy her work and have ordered a painting for myself. Even if you don't want to buy, give her page a visit and say something nice. And if you do want to buy or have questions, talk to her. She's a good friend of mine and she's super nice. -J

theart-ofjess.tumblr.com

[tonguesanndteeth]

Tongues & Teeth Chapter: 4

Jasper waited across the street from the little coffee shop on the corner. By now it was too dark for anyone in the cafe to see his face. He was early, but Teddy was already inside, seated at a table by the window with her nose buried in a book. It wasn’t like him to keep a lady waiting, but Jasper took this opportunity to study her, if only for a moment. 

Her flaxen hair hung long and straight down the length of her back, her eyelashes casting delicate shadows across the planes of her cheekbones. Whatever she was reading must have been captivating, or perhaps confusing, as he watched her eyes dance across the pages intently. A little dimple appeared between her eyebrows when she focused. The emotions pouring out of her were unreadable.

Jasper crossed the street, the late November air frozen and still. A bell rang as he opened the door to the shop. It was a cozy, hole in the wall kind of place with old wooden walls and green subway tile. There weren’t many people here this time of night and Teddy’s head snapped up at the sound.

She smiled at him as he walked in, and it was breathtaking. Only his inhuman eyes could see it, but the light glinted off her teeth and threw a dazzling eight color rainbow.

“Sorry I’m late, ma’am,” he said, striding over to her table. Their table.

“Don’t be, cowboy. I was early.” 

Jasper tried to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Should I be offended by that?” he chuckled, taking a seat.

“Why, whatever do you mean?” she said, putting the back of her hand to her forehead and feigning a swoon, “My very own southern gentleman, I do declare.”

“Definitely offended.”

“What, you don’t like my Scarlett O’hara?” she teased.

“I suppose it could grow on me,” he smirked, no longer working to keep the natural twang out of his voice.

Teddy smiled and looked away, taking a sip of her coffee. But when she looked back at Jasper her brows knit together. He felt a wave of confusion roll off of her.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, eyeing him over.

He silently cursed himself, he’d forgotten to wear a jacket. His body didn’t register the arctic temperatures, but still, he needed to dress as though it did. Humans tended to notice little things like that.

“No, I’m fine,” he said, hoping she’d drop the subject.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and she reached across the table to touch his hand. Instinctively he moved to pull it away, but she caught it in her grip. Teddy inhaled sharply through her teeth and dropped it immediately as if she’d been burnt. 

“Fuck, Jasper, you’re freezing.”

“Really, it’s nothing. I have poor circulation.”

And by poor, he meant non existent.

“Bullshit. Here, drink this,” she said, pushing her cup of coffee towards him.

Jasper grimaced at the black drink in front of him. Human food was even less appealing than the herbivores, at least those had a heartbeat.

“I’m serious,” Teddy said firmly.

Jasper sighed and took the mug in his hands. If anything, holding the hot ceramic would warm his fingers to a semi-human degree, should she try to touch him again.

He looked at the soft ring of pink that her lipstick left on the rim of the cup. He wondered if he’d be able to taste her.

Bracing himself, he took a small sip.

The drink was hot and acrid on his palette, but he skimmed his tongue over her lipstick stain and his mouth was washed in her flavor. It was slightly waxy from the makeup, but round with notes of smoke and peppermint. Jasper shuddered slightly.

“Thank you,” she said with an approving nod, “now your hypothermia won’t be on my conscience.”

Jasper rolled his eyes and pushed the mug towards her.

“Nah, you keep it. If I drink anymore I’ll be up all night.”

He bit back a comment about not having slept in a century and a half, something told him she wouldn’t find it as funny as he did. Instead, he set his gaze on the book she’d put aside.

“What were you reading?” Jasper asked.

“Oh, that? Nothing, just notes.”

Her tone was too casual. Jasper could sense an evasiveness in her aura.

“What about?” he pressed, settling a blanket of calm over them. Jasper had never used his powers on Teddy before, and he wasn’t proud to do it now, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Teddy sighed and the tension melted away from her shoulders.

“It’s just where I write when my mind gets too full. Sometimes it feels like my thoughts turn into these sharp, twisting puzzles. Getting it out on paper helps though, I can rationalize the mess a bit better. I-I don’t usually tell people this.”

She shook her head as if to clear a daze.

Jasper was slightly taken aback. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t that. He’d always known that Teddy felt things strongly, processed life differently, but hearing it in her own words was a wholly other thing. Was that what she had been experiencing the first time he’d sensed her mind? When he’d felt it lashing out with a powerful and shattering force?

“How do you endure it?” Jasper asked.

She shrugged.

“You find ways to cope. I wasn’t always a smoker, you know.”

“And that helps?”

“It helps enough. Plus it’s cheaper than knocking back a xanny every few hours.”

Jasper wasn’t entirely sure what a “xanny” was, but it sounded stronger than cigarettes.

“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly.

“Don’t be, everyone’s got shit. I’m sure you do.”

“What makes you say that?” Jasper asked, quirking an eyebrow. She was right, he did have ‘shit’. A lot of it. But he was curious as to why she thought so.

Teddy shot him a scathing look. 

“Jasper, have you looked in a mirror? You look like a goddamn Kalvin Klein model. Nobody’s that pretty and okay on the inside.”

He barked out a laugh, surprised at her choice of words, but also the weight of their accuracy.

“It’s that easy to see through me, huh?” he grinned.

“Crystal clear, unfortunately. You look like you’re ready to throw yourself off a bridge half the time.”

She wasn’t far off the mark. Being in such close proximity to humans, to her, could be torturous. If only jumping off a bridge could solve that problem.

“We’ve both got issues in the coping department, I’m afraid.”

“Well,” she grinned crookedly, “cheers to being two of a kind.”

Jasper smiled sadly in return, tracing the rim of her coffee cup with his pinkie finger. He was contemplating forcing down another sip just to taste her again.

“Tell me something,” he said after a moment.

“What?”

“Anything. I just..want to know you,” he admitted.

She flushed deliciously at his words, blood pooling in the thin, clear membrane of her cheeks. Jasper clenched his fist roughly under the table, marble skin pulled taut over his knuckles. He didn’t let himself breathe until the blush faded.

“I’m a vegetarian,” she offered after a moment of consideration.

“So am I,” Jasper said, amused.

“Really?” she laughed, “I would’ve pegged you as a meat and potatoes kind of guy. Red blooded American and all that.”

“Oh, believe me, I used to be,” he said wickedly.

“What changed?”

“My family. When they adopted me they showed me a new way of life. More humane.”

“You’re adopted?” she asked.

He nodded.

“My parents died a very long time ago. I was on my own until Carlisle, my father, found me. He gave me a home, siblings, endless patience. Everything I could have ever hoped for.”

“Wow,” she breathed, processing his words.

“What’s your family like?” Jasper asked.

Teddy’s expression turned sour.

“Dysfunctional.”

“How so?”

“I mean, I guess my childhood was pretty normal. My parents got divorced when I was seven and I stayed here with my mom. Which was, spoiler alert, a big mistake. My dad moved to Nevada, owns some shitty motels now, I think. I see him every couple of years. I don’t even know where my mom is anymore.”

“You don’t know where she is?”

“Nope, and I don’t really care to. She was in and out of rehab too much to keep track of after I moved out, it’s just better like this.”

He could sense her sadness as it rolled off her body.

“Maybe I should have asked you about your favorite color instead,” Jasper said regretfully, he shouldn’t have poked at such a sensitive topic.

Teddy rolled her eyes at him.

“I’ve never been very good at small talk anyway. But, for the record, my favorite color is white.”

“An interesting choice,” he mused.

“Hey, no judging! It’s a nice color. I’m sure yours is something stereotypical like blue.”

Jasper was torn. If you’d asked him a minute ago his favorite color would have been red, the rich iron pigment of her blood. If you’d asked him again he might have said green, the electric shade of her eyes. Or possibly rose, the hue of her lipstick smudged on the rim of a porcelain mug. But he couldn’t say any of that. Instead, he just smiled and said:

“Ya got me.”

“I knew it,” she smirked.

Jasper noticed that the already sparse coffee shop had emptied considerably, the young woman behind the counter beginning to clean up for the night.

“It’s getting late,” Teddy sighed.

He sensed something like disappointment coming from her.

“May I walk you home?” he asked tentatively.

The disappointment disappeared.

“You may,” she smiled.

The two of them exited the warm cafe, the frigid winter air soaking through to their bones immediately. Jasper felt nothing, but Teddy shivered and pulled her coat more securely around her shoulders. He frowned to himself, upset that he could offer her no warm embrace to take the chill away.

She fished around in her bag for a moment before producing a lighter and a fresh pack of Marlboro Reds. Apparently she wasn’t picky about brands. She lit one swiftly, inhaling deeply, and then let it go in a gust of smoke and frozen air.

“This way,” Teddy said, walking down a side street.

She offered the lit cigarette to Jasper, which he accepted, falling into step beside her.

He took a drag and held it in his chest, watching as the breeze whipped Teddy’s hair around her face. They walked in silence for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth.

“Do you think the stars know that they shine?” she asked absently.

It was a rare, cloudless night. The sky was an impossibly inky black and studded with stars like white diamonds. 

“Maybe,” he mused, “but they might be happier if they didn’t.”

“That’s true,” Teddy sighed, “things seem so much easier up there. No worries, no responsibilities.”

“But we get a much better view.”

“Yeah,” she smiled, meeting his eyes.

They approached an old, but well maintained apartment building, and Teddy stopped.

“Well, this is me.”

There was a beat of tension between them. Jasper felt the pull of emotion coming from her. It was small, and cautious, but it was the unmistakable feeling of desire. He had to work very hard to keep his mind in order as he realized this.

He wanted to do something reckless. He wanted to kiss her. It was a terrible, horrible idea, but it tempted him almost more than her blood. For as strong as Jasper was, he needed to be equally as gentle. He could stroke a soap bubble with his finger and leave it unharmed if he issued enough control. Teddy was just as delicate. Silk over glass. Breakable. 

She looked up at him with her wide, clear eyes, and he felt himself lean in. Her pulse quickened and his mouth pooled with hunger. He’d never been this close to a human’s without intent to kill before. The scent of her blood seared its way through his throat and dizzied his head. 

With all the pressure of butterfly flapping its wings, Jasper pressed his lips to the supple flesh of her cheek. He wanted to linger there, overcome with the sensation of her warmth, but the thirst ripping its way through him was too powerful.

“Goodnight,” he whispered as he pulled away.

He turned and began to walk back down the street.

“Goodnight, Jasper,” he heard her say quietly as he slipped into the night.

[this-lioness]

Feeling a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen cabinet doors still need to be done.  This is taking a lot of time because they have to dry pretty thoroughly between each coat, and each one needs 3 coats + a light touch-up.  Then we still have to do the edges. This is not helped by the fact that Marc didn’t sand the primer coat before he started painting the first side (which was supposed to be the “front” of the doors), meaning that with each coat of paint on top all the goopy drips and imperfections became more and more obvious.  So now I’m going super slow on the other side so that it will be nice enough to be the display side.  I’m not mad I’m just disappointed.

We have a gala coming up in two weeks, and I still haven’t sat down to design / paint the mask I’m supposed to use, nor put together any of the little details. We are doing a 5k in a couple more weeks that we are only now starting to “train” for.  I’m less stressed about this than it sounds, but it’s still frustrating.

Both of my parents have birthdays coming up, and an anniversary.  And my stepfather really wants to get back out to the lake in time to see the colors in what he personally considers “prime time”, and I don’t know what the fuck he’s really looking for, because yesterday everything looked beautiful to me? And if I take him too soon he’s going to be disappointed, but if I take him too late he’s also going to be disappointed, and my mother is just 100% disappointed with everything 100% of the time.

Marc asked me about five times what I was planning on doing for my Halloween costume until I was finally like, “I’m just going to wear the “candy witch” costume I have up in the closet.  And I think he’s disappointed, because he loves Halloween (so do I!) but I just do not have the bandwidth to come up with and assemble a costume this year, just to stand around and hand out candy to kids, and also it’s going to rain on Halloween. I sense he’s disappointed that I’m not as “into it” as in previous years.

I am excited for the holidays, but can I just express how much I hate the huge pile of empty decor boxes that sits behind the couch for 3+ months until they’re all over?  I fucking hate living around the clutter of holiday decorations PLUS the clutter of the boxes that the decorations are stored in.

We also still haven’t done the photo for our Christmas card this year, and we need to get on that SOON.  Not only does the photo need to be staged, but we need to be sure we have our outfits, and then there is a LOT of digital editing that needs to be done afterwards.  Like a good couple hours, at least.

I also have 4+ design commissions that I haven’t even STARTED on!  And I’m running out of things to tell these people that aren’t, “I PHYSICALLY CANNOT.”

Oh hi, Thanksgiving is also coming up.  His Mom will be coming over the night before, and my mother is pretty much only able to eat liquids and gruel, and then afterwards we like to be “those people” and go out for Black Friday.  I NEED to have the kitchen done before all this.

Because the kitchen and dining room is complete fucking disarray I have not been able to clean the house!  And a messy house is a huge, huge stressor for me.  I was going to try to do laundry yesterday, but the guy was doing the furnace, and so clearly I couldn’t occupy the same space. I am thinking of skipping the gym tonight just so I can put a dent in the huge pile that is accumulating in the bedroom.

Marc has not paired socks in like three weeks?  Despite the fact that he knows this must be done regularly, like every time I do the laundry? But it just keeps piling up and piling up and piling up, and no matter how many times I’m like, “SOCKS????”, he’s just like, “Well, I didn’t know where you put them!” (1. They are in the same place they always are and even if they weren’t   2. You could ask) or the excuse is, “I didn’t know they needed to be done, you should have put them where I can see them? (1.  You are a grown ass man who wears socks EVERY SINGLE DAY AND WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR ALMOST FOURTEEN YEARS. YOU ARE FULLY AWARE THAT SOCKS MUST BE PAIRED AND THAT IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY.   2. Last time I put the overflowing box of unpaired socks immediately onto your side of the bed, and you MOVED IT TO THE FLOOR AND BLISSFULLY CONTINUED LIVING A LIFE OF UNPAIRED SOCKS.)

We also have THREE events coming up: an author expo, a Christmas craft fair, and A SECOND Christmas craft fair.  The summer fair at the cemetery was SO GREAT because people bought a ton of stuff, but this means that I need to rebuild my inventory.  And “rebuilding my inventory” isn’t just hopping online and buying shit!  I need to design it, and craft it, and then finish it, and do I have enough materials on hand to do it all?

The garden still has not been put to bed for the year, and I don’t know when the hell we’re going to have the perfect combination of time and weather!

Also, I still have two fucking bags of clothes that I need to stage and photograph so I can post it online!

And I haven’t even S T A R T E D photographing my own jewelry to create an online store!  Nor do I have any idea when I’m going to have the time to do it!

Also, I would like to be able to draw and paint!

Also, I was supposed to write 10k words in September, and I didn’t fucking write ANY, because how??? Even if I can work up the momentum to finish this goddamned book, when the fuck am I supposed to do it?

And Rosie is getting fixed at the end of this month, and Bones needs to go back to the vet for bloodwork next month to make sure his kidneys aren’t failing and he hasn’t lost any more weight.

So yesterday, on the way home from the gym, when I’m like, “I cancelled the second Christmas fair, the one at the school. It’s just too much for me,” and he’s like, “It’s too much? Are you kidding?”

And I swear to God... I swear to God I would take a bullet for this man, I would literally murder people for this man, and he has my whole heart, but I may have never wanted to fucking strangle him so much as I did right then.

JESUS EFFING CHRIST DUDE.  Y’know, I would also like to spend twenty minutes twice a day sitting on the toilet and browsing my phone.  I would really also like to check myself out of all responsibilities every time there’s a football game on TV that I want to watch.  It would be really great to never have to fucking think about HOW EVERYTHING IN OUR LIFE OPERATES ON TIME AND WITHIN BUDGET AND HOW LITERALLY EVERYTHING GETS DONE, except I CAN’T DO THAT.  Last night when we were supposed to be “relaxing” in bed, I sat there sorting through mail so that everything would get paid / done on time, while you sat there scrolling away on your STUPID PHONE THAT I HATE SO MUCH.

He has a bare minimum of responsibilities:

1.  Take the garbage bins to the curb and back again.

2.  Feed the cats (I occasionally help with this)

3.  Do the afternoon litterbox scoop (this frequently gets “forgotten”)

4.  Load / unload the dishwasher, hand-wash anything that cannot go in the machine (this maybe gets done once a week, it frequently goes until the sink is so filled with shit that I cannot prepare meals)

5.  Take the trash out to the bins (this has been known to sit WAY LONGER than it should)

6.  Clean the bathrooms (There are 3 -- 2 full and 1 half. One of the full baths does not need to be regularly cleaned because it’s only there to hold litter boxes, we don’t actually use it.  That leaves 1 full bath and 1 half bath, the latter of which is STRICTLY HIS.)  The bathrooms are cleaned maybe once a month.

7.  Clean the floors (vacuum and mop).  This ONLY gets done when guests are coming over, or when I complain that the floors are disgusting and they REALLY need to get done.  Half the time he will vacuum (and not thoroughly), and then say, “I’m going to hold off on mopping until right before X gets here, that way they’ll be fresh and clean”, and then will conveniently forget to mop at all.

It’s not as if he’s not aware.  We have talked about this.  He FREQUENTLY AND WITH HEARTFELT SELF-DEPRECATION will confess that he is terrible about keeping up the house, and promise that he will get better, and it takes everything in my power to say, “No you won’t. Can I just stop pretending that I believe you when you say that, because you clearly do not actually mean it or, if you do, you have no intention of putting forth the physical and mental ambition to follow through.”

And you know what? I DON’T CARE!  I love my house and I love taking care of it.  I married him knowing these things about him, and he is such a good partner otherwise that I was willing to overlook it, and we laugh about it most of the time and it’s fine. It’s actually fine!  I’m not just saying that!

What gets me -- what borderline made me want to murder him -- was the incredulous, “Really? The second craft fair is too much?” last night, and I think the dark depths of my silence afterwards must have clued him into the fact that he had been a Dumbass Supreme, and he spent a good 20 minutes reminding me how awesome I am.

Yes. Yes, I know I’m fucking awesome.  Sometimes I just want you to be a little fucking awesome too. PLEASE.

[blackleatherjacketz]

Words of Affirmation: Chapter 4

Negan x Reader (Single Mom)

Negan leaves after your confession and has you feeling a little uneasy, until...

Warnings: Angst City, Weapons Cleaning, Overthinking, Single Mom Stuff, Negan with Kids!, Spot the “Wicked” Reference

(Gif isn’t mine). Sorry it’s taken me so long to update! My life is a mess!

Read  Chapter 3

Tags: @annablack1102 @the-galaxy-collector @mblaqgi @negans-network @hana-song137 @ask-kakashihatake @collette04 @negansdirtygirll @negansviolentdelights @haleyea @jmb959 @myrabbitholetoneverland @jdm-is-my-happiness

“Why don’t we forget about the dress and that asshole for a while?” His words were kind in intention, dripping heavily from his lips. That didn’t seem to soften the blow any when they reached your ears though, reminding you of the last time you were rejected. Why should your love life in the apocalypse be any different than your love life in the old world?

You felt his absence more deeply than you had anticipated, your heart dropping into your stomach as he decided to go on a run the exact same day that you’d slept in his bed. He got you a clean shirt and jeans to change into at least, insisting on burning the clothes you had spent the past few years in. They were tattered and torn, not allowing any room to argue with him even if you tried.

Your mind raced the next day or so whether you wanted it to or not, distracting you from your work in the armory. Negan had taken five of his men and six guns with him on the run, making it over twenty-four hours since they had left the Sanctuary. Did your confession spook him and make him run away? Was he turned off by you entirely? Was he going to treat you differently now that you’ve opened up to him? Did you let him in too fast? Should you have played hard to get? Why did you have to be so goddamn eager to let someone touch you, to let someone treat you like that? You knew the whole situation was too good to be true; that shower, his mouth, those hands… and maybe this place was, too.

“So, how was your little date with the boss?” Jamen interrupted your thoughts, smiling as he cleaned a rifle in the back of the room. His face and fingertips were covered in carbon, signaling how long he’d been at it as he pushed through the barrel of the military weapon with a bristle brush.

“Date?” You signed out a rifle just like his and set up shop next to your coworker. “Do those even exist anymore?” You opened the drawer and pulled out a weapons cleaning kit, unzipping the black bag and pouring it onto the table. You needed to get back into the habit of keeping your guard up.

“According to Max they do. He told me Negan brought you by the other day and told him ‘not to wait up’ so he could spend time with you.” He sat the rifle down. “That sounds like a date to me.”

“Max isn’t my father, J.” You checked the chamber for any ammo and started taking it apart. “We just spent some time together, that’s it.”

You didn’t want to talk about this here, with Jamen of all people. The rumors about girls and gossip were true, but you knew that the same went for men as well. The apocalypse had left little room for entertainment, so gossiping about other people’s lives was the most entertaining thing to do in the Sanctuary besides killing walkers. You’d only been here a couple of weeks, and you already knew far too much about most of the people here. The things you’ve heard come out of Jamen’s mouth, well… you could only imagine what he’d say if you told him the truth.

“I see you got new clothes and a shower.” He winked at you, putting the pieces back together. “Negan help you with that?”

“It doesn’t matter, does it?” You put your eye to the barrel, looking for any flecks of carbon or obvious obstructions. “Why don’t we talk about how badly you need to shower, huh?” You nudged him with your shoulder and forced a smile, hoping to shift gears to another topic of conversation.

“Ha, touché, mama, touché.” He smiled and dropped the subject, picking up on the fact you didn’t want to keep talking about it. “Did you hear that they found another community to get resources from?”

Jamen spent the rest of your shift talking about what he’d heard from Simon on the new community they found the other day. They called it the Hilltop, and it was full of lush gardens and other crops they could use here at the Sanctuary. Maybe it wasn’t you that scared Negan off after all. Maybe he just needed to get more supplies from this new community. Maybe you should stop worrying about his motivations and finish the weapons log before second shift came in to relieve you. ——————— The air outside was hot and sticky, no oscillating fan in the corner to cool you down as you walked towards the soccer field to look for David. You put your hand above your eyes to shield them from the setting sun and saw him kicking the ball with a tall man in a white t-shirt. His laughter travelled across the air as he volleyed back and forth with him, missing the black and white ball as it rolled past him toward you.

“Uh oh, Mama’s here,” Negan trotted toward you and picked up the ball, holding it loosely against his abdomen. “Looks like we’re in trouble.” He winked at you and looked back at David, beckoning for him to come over.

Negan? Playing ball with David… your David? You’d never seen him like this, in just his t-shirt before. Sure, you’d seen him naked a few days ago, but this… this was different. He was sweating, no, glowing from his game with your son, tiny beads of perspiration dripping down his temples and into the salt and pepper of his beard. His skin wrinkled as he smiled at you, enveloping those droplets of sweat completely as those perfect teeth of his made your chest warm up.

“Back so soon?” You crossed your arms over your chest, debating whether or not to put your walls back up with brick and mortar, or just to leave the wooden planks as they were.

“Just got back.” He breathed in heavily, winded from his sprint as he tossed the ball to David. His hand inadvertently found its way into your son’s hair, ruffling his locks as he held onto the ball.

“Thanks, Mr. Negan.” David squinted as he looked up at him and smiled, the sun bringing out golden hues in his hair as Negan’s fingers playfully ran through it.

“Just call me Negan,” he told him, bending down to his height. “And you can keep that ball if you want.” His smile was electric, lighting up your son’s face for the first time since you arrived there.

David had never been this happy to spend time with anyone else in your group before, no matter how nice they were to him. Jim had tried to teach him fishing, Toni had cooked with him, but he never quite warmed up to them, not like this, and never this quickly. Maybe your attraction to Negan was genetic, and there was nothing either of you could do about it.

“Thanks for the ball, Negan!” He smiled again and looked up at you, his dark eyes wide with joy and comfort. “Are you going to protect me?” David looked back at your bedfellow, the innocent question he asked everyone suddenly slipping out without warning.

“Of course I am, David! That’s what we do here! We save people!” Negan placed his hand on David’s shoulder, the sound of your son’s name in his mouth both exciting and scary. “As long as you’re at the Sanctuary, I will do everything, and I do mean everything,” he paused for effect, looking up at you and licking his lips, “To make sure you and your mom are safe.” He squeezed his shoulder, smiling at him before tapping his chin with the back of his knuckle.

“No more monsters?” David asked.

“No more monsters,” he promised. “Now, whaddya say I take your mom out for dinner, and you get to hang out with Aunt Sherry and Uncle Dwight for the night? I’ll have her back in time to read you your bedtime story.”

“I don’t need bedtime stories anymore. I’m a big boy.” David stood tall, puffing up his chest.

“Well alright then, I’ll have her home before you go to bed without your bedtime story. Sound good?”

“Sounds good!” David dropped the soccer ball and wrapped his arms around Negan, surprising all three of you.

You were beginning to think that the apocalypse had turned David into a sociopath, a boy with only a few emotions left that were key to his survival. He barely hugged you anymore now that you thought about it, barely kissed you or expressed joy until he walked through the gates of the Sanctuary. Now he was holding this man closer than he’s ever bothered to bring you in the five years of his existence.

You half expected Negan to pull back, to retract from the affection and shrug him off. Instead he chuckled and embraced your son’s tiny arms around his neck as he wrapped his big hands around his shoulders, patting him gently on the back.

An odd feeling came over you as you witnessed the man with romantic interest in you interact with your child. Butterflies in your stomach threatened to turn it over completely as a wave of heat washed over your entire body. What is this feeling, so sudden and new? This feeling was different from the attraction you felt when you were alone with Negan. It was different from the unadulterated love you had for your child. It was somewhere in between the two, and you weren’t exactly sure how to react to it. Was this what normal mothers felt like when their husbands spent time with their children? Is this what you’d been missing out on the entire time you were a single mom? Is this… happiness? Could something like this even be real?

Negan let go of David and stood up, his smile wide as he took your hand. “Whaddya say, mom? You hungry?”