#and be something more than what she's destined to deteriorate into

[dlartistanon]

If I could steal you away for one moment

[shdysders]

mistake

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara makes a mistake she can't undo

word count: 3.4k

warnings: violence, blood, stabbing, blood & death.

author’s note: feel like my writing is deteriorating, so sorry this might not be the greatest.

When you heard that Mindy and Ethan had been separated from the rest of the group, you immediately knew nothing was going to go according to the plan.

Everything had happened so fast. First accusation news about Sam had streamed on television, then Quinn's bloody corpse had fallen on top of you, then Anika wasn't able to make it across the latter, her bloody hands and Ghostface's shaking had made her slip. You had lost two of your friends in less than fifteen minutes.

You hadn't heard of the killings in Woodsboro until you had met Tara the first day of junior year, but she made sure to tell you everything that had happened the closer the two of you got.

Based on everything you had heard, you understood why Sam was so protective over Tara, the Carpenter sisters had been through more than normal people have in a lifetime.

However, even though you were nothing but nice and understanding towards Sam, she didn't seem to like you.

The first time Tara had brought you home to the apartment, Sam had kept a burning gaze on you for the whole time, like she wanted to burn you alive.

You thought that she would warm up and eventually trust you like she seemed to do with Anika, Quinn and Ethan, but she never did.

And it only got worse once Tara had called you her girlfriend in front of her, a huge disagreement broke out, so big that Sam had sent you out of the apartment.

You never got to know what Sam had said after that, but you did know that the glares you got from Sam only worsened and so did the small comments she would make about you when she thought you didn't hear.

Such as now, when Sam and Tara were walking in front of you, the theater being the destination. You had this gut feeling that Sam was currently talking about you. You just knew she was, even tho you couldn't hear her voice nor did you see her head moving like it normally did when she spoke, you knew.

But your mind changed thoughts when she rapidly turned on her heel, stopping when she was in front of Danny who had been walking closely behind you, alongside Kirby.

"Not you." She said, her voice cracking.

"What?" He answered almost immediately, like he had been expecting it.

"Don't trust anyone remember?" Sam replied.

You watched the scene with worried eyes, what Sam said reminded you way too much of something she had told Tara when she thought you weren't near. "We don't know you.. not really."

His face expression looked hurt, almost taken aback when Sam spoke. "You know me."

"You're not Woodsboro." She spoke quickly, rage lacing her voice.

Tara looked down at her shoes after that was said, her lips finding a home between her teeth. You knew she was scared, because you were as well. You had no idea how things were going to go down, you had never experienced something as brutal like this before.

You were seconds away from putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, before she looked up at you with tears pricking her eyes.

"That goes for you too." She swallows thickly, trying her hardest to look into your eyes.

You furrowed your eyebrows, panic rising through you. "W-what?" Your voice came out as a stutter, not believing what she had just made it's way out of her mouth.

Tara just nodded unsurely, her eyes looked sad and were filled with doubt. You couldn't understand why. If she was sad about it, why would she say it?

"Tara I- you can't be serious." You spoke again, voice growing shakier by the minute.

She knew very well how terrified you were about the situation as it was, and yet she still chose to leave you out of the plan alongside Sam's unknown fuck buddy? If it didn't make you shake out of fear you would've been infuriated.

"You're not Woodsboro." She stated, same thing as her sister but in a different tone, she'd tried to sound calm, but her voice was filled with uncertainty, shaky with worry.

You knew she was right. You weren't Woodsboro. You had never been to the place nor did you knew it existed before Tara came along. But the fact that she didn't trust you enough to know for certain that you weren't Ghostface, made you feel the need to fall apart. Did she really think you would kill your friends? Let alone hurt them?

The thought made your eyes sting, and before you had the chance to wipe the tears away, they fell.

"Tara please I promise I-" You felt embarrassed, being so vulnerable over basically nothing.

All eyes were on you as you tried to keep the tears from falling, you felt ridiculous. But you were terrified.

You couldn't stand the thought of being left alone in this situation. Not only because you were scared of being alone, but also because you had to protect Tara.

Although you knew Sam would do a perfectly fine job of keeping her safe, but you wanted to do it, you had to. You wanted to prove to Sam that you loved Tara almost the same amount as she did, you wanted to prove to Tara she could trust you with her life.

You could see that Tara wanted to give in, tell you that you could come along and that she trusted you with her whole being. Her eyes were filled with regret and doubt. But you could tell that she wasn't going to change her mind anytime soon.

She just watched you, biting her lips hard enough to draw blood. Seeing the look on your face just made her want to squeeze you in a hug hard enough to make you faint.

You looked so scared, and the fact that she knew how scared you were about the whole situation, made everything worse. She had noticed the terrified look on your face that hadn't left since the attack at the apartment, your trembling hands and the layer of tears in your eyes that never fell.

Tara actually thought that you looked more scared than both Sam and her combined.

"Y/n please just stay here." She tried to reason, as if she wanted this. But she did want it. She wanted you to be safe.

You wanted to argue, tell her that you would refuse to come along. But you knew that you wouldn't get anywhere with it, Tara was stubborn, she always got what she wanted somehow. And you didn't want Sam to see you argue with Tara, that certainly wouldn't help you get on better terms with her.

So you gave in, even though you knew Tara's life was at stake. Sam will take care of her, you tried to tell yourself.

You quickly wiped the tears on your cheeks with your hand, even though everybody had already seen them.

Tara's eyes never left your figure as she watched your trembling hands. "Fine." You almost spit, voice cracking with worry.

Tara nodded at that, happy to hear you give in. You didn't pay attention to anybody's reaction other than hers, they didn't seem to matter.

She walked closer to you, placing a kiss on your faintly tear stained cheek. "Be safe." She said, as if she wasn't the one that was about to walk into a situation that she would either leave traumatized or not leave at all.

"Be safe." You repeated, before you watched them all walk away towards the building.

Seeing as Sam turned her head to Tara and whispered 'good call', as they walked away.

But when you turned around to try and make a decent conversation with Danny, he was nowhere in sight. Making even more worry creep in your bones.

***

You had been pacing around in the same place and pattern for 20 minutes without any progress, Danny was gone, and your phone was dead.

The streets where dead and empty.

You had half a mind to just run to the theaters and do the exact opposite of what Tara had instructed you to. But you knew well enough that both of the Carpenter sisters would quite literally murder you if you stepped a foot into their plan.

But eventually the worry and stress got to you, like it always did. You didn't care if you were going to get murdered whether if it were by Tara or Ghostface, if it was for protecting Tara, it was a good reason.

However, before you had the chance to change your mind or consider the other options, a glove-covered hand landed on your face, covering your mouth tightly.

The yelp and screams you tried to make was inaudible, nobody could hear them.

You felt a surge of fear and panic, unable to hear your own scream. The street grew eerily silent as you struggled to break free, your heart pounding in your chest. Rush of intense vulnerability and confusion, as you desperately searched for a way to escape the grasp of the unknown assailant.

But you knew who it was. It was Ghostface.

You tried to kick them with your legs, but none of them seemed to hit. The person was holding a strong grip on your mouth, and the other arm was firmly placed around your waist. You were unable to move out of any of the grips, the person was too strong. And you weren't.

Your panic was making it harder to breath, and you were beginning to feel as if you were about to faint any second.

You tried your best to remove the grip with your hands, gripping hardly on the muscular arms, trying so hard to get them away from you.

The tightened arms had veins all over them, yet another reminder that it was impossible for you to get away.

It was Danny, you tried to tell yourself over the ringing in your ears. It had to be Danny. He had left the second you were alone with him. It had to be him.

Muffled screams and ringing ears were the only noises you could make out. If the person behind you was speaking in a voice changer to you or not, you had no idea.

The panic you felt was replaced with relief when the thought of using your elbow to hit the individual behind you entered your mind.

But you never got the chance to do that.

Seconds before your elbow was about to meet the Ghostface mask, you felt a sharp pain in your lower abdomen.

All of the movements you were making stopped the second you realized what it was.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Seven times you could feel the sharp piece of metal enter and exit your abdomen. A gasp escaped your mouth after every single one of them.

You tried to scream, but nobody was around. Your wide eyes scanned through the street, yet again seeing that nobody was there. It was all empty.

Normally the streets of New York would be filled with drunk teenagers and late night workers, whether it was night or afternoon.

But when the news about the killers got out, everybody stayed inside. Some people didn't even bother to leave for work, and of course no parties. Even the homeless people seemed to have found another place to stay at.

You didn't realize that numbness was spreading through your legs until the potential male had slowly began to loosen the grip he had on your figure.

Before you had time to think, he had completely let go.

Suddenly you felt dizzy, you couldn't feel your feet, you couldn't feel your legs, you couldn't feel anything.

You could barely feel your legs giving up, nor did you feel your body hitting the ground as you tried to cover up the damage that had been made on your lower stomach.

Regardless the sharp pain in your body that almost made it impossible to breathe and the dizziness that got worse every time you moved, you tried to crawl towards the fence that was just centimeters away.

Your hands bloody from trying to add pressure to your wounds made trails on the asphalt.

You couldn’t tell if you had placed your hands on the right place, considering that the stab wounds were all over the place. And you didn't even dare to look down, because you could guarantee that it wouldn't be a pleasant sight.

Your eyes were starting to close by themselves and you were struggling to keep them open.

Everything hurt.

The pressure you were putting on the wounds was now becoming lighter, your hands didn't seem to have any strength left in them.

Tara would be here soon, you thought, desperately.

She would be here soon, everything would be okay; no more Ghostface attacks, no more Sam hating you, and no more unexpected death cases of your friends.

Your mind focused on Tara.

Her brown hair, her beautiful brown eyes, her dimples and her breathtaking smile. Her voice, her touch, and her joyful laugh.

Your eyes closed, and this time you couldn't stop them. The pressure on your wounds was no longer existent. The color in you was gone. You were gone.

Last thought being the girl you wanted to marry.

***

Tara left the building with a lump in her stomach, as big as a bowling ball.

Her body was filled with worry and guilt, but a part of her felt relief. She was relieved that everything was over now. No more Ghostfaces. She was done with them, truly.

Tara couldn't wait to see you. She was going to tell you that the decision she made was right, that she was happy you stayed behind, because you stayed safe.

But when Danny had walked into the theater, tackling all kinds of officer in his way, he was all alone. You weren't there, you didn't come with him.

Danny told them that the two of you had lost sight of each other rather quickly after they'd left, that you probably just needed to be alone and breathe for a moment.

Tara knew that you would be upset with her, for not allowing you to come with them, for not letting you protect her, like you always told her you would, even if it meant dying.

Although she had hoped for you to at least come to see if she made it out alive.

Danny had called the cops and ambulance to arrive at the place as soon as he got the chance. That's why the only thing in Tara's sight was ambulances, police cars and the fire department.

Chad had miraculously made it out alive, same with Mindy and Kirby. And even though that made Tara want to cry out in happy tears, she couldn't let herself feel anything until she had seen you.

Safe and secure. Like you should've been.

Panic began to rise within Tara as minutes passed without any sight of you.

Sam stood beside her, trying to sooth her younger sister with comforting words. But they didn't make anything better for her.

After the whole showdown, the two Carpenter sister's had talked, really talked.

Sam had tried to explain to Tara that she didn't actually hate you, the opposite really. She thought you were lovely and a perfect match for Tara. But she didn't want to take any risks.

She wanted to show you the walls to her trust weren't easy to break. And then she thought that if she acted rude towards you, you would eventually leave; meaning there was no need for Sam to let her guard down and open up to people she didn't know.

But Sam knew how much Tara loved you, she had been listening to her sister's rambling about you everyday.

That's why Sam could feel her heart sinking down her entire being when her eyes met with a stretcher where a body was placed, a morgue sheet on top of it, which was filled with blood.

Sam prayed that it was somebody else. That you had walked somewhere else to breathe just like Danny had assumed.

She felt the need to distract Tara before she had the chance to see it, but it was too late.

She had already seen it.

Tara screamed out your name in a sob, straight away assuming that you were the person underneath the white cover.

The woman who had been pushing the stretcher had stopped, turning around to try and give the man behind her any sort of information about the deceased individual.

Tara's legs moved faster than she could process, Sam following shortly after.

Heart pounding, hands trembling. With a swift of motion, she grabbed the edge of the wrap and pulled it upward, revealing your pale and peaceful face.

The vibrant hues that once painted your face were now gone, leaving behind a pale and ghostly visage. The colors had been drained from you, you no longer looked like yourself.

Tara could feel herself gasp loudly at the sight, turning around with a hand placed on her mouth.

A surge of sickness overwhelmed her. A gut-wrenching sensation, as if her stomach was about to revolt. She felt like she was on the verge of throwing up, basically feeling the acidic liquids rise within her.

It was you. Her girl. Dead. Gone.

Sam had the same reaction to the sight, gasping and putting her hand on her mouth, preventing from letting out any tears or sounds. Chills running down her spine.

Stop it. Pull it together. Tara. Tara needs you. Sam told herself.

Gaze shifting from your body and the bloody sheet upon you to her younger sister, who was sobbing beside her, about to fall down to her knees.

But when Sam put a hand on Tara's shoulder, she stood straighter. "No!" She shot up, voice raspy.

She looked at you again, but this time not caring for the feeling inside of her throat that threatened her. "She's not dead." Tara spoke again, trying to convince herself that you were alive, that she could save you.

"Tara-" Sam tried, but Tara had no interest in listening to her sister.

"Y/n. Baby, look at me." Tara gently brushed her fingertips against your cheeks, but quickly pulled away when she felt the chill that pierced through her body, for they were once a source of warmth and comfort, now distant and cold.

You were always warm.

The tears streamed down Tara's face, leaving even more mascara smudges on her cheeks, falling and leaving marks on her blue shirt. The shirt that you had gotten her.

"Sam, Come on! help me please" She begged for her big sister's help, still hoping that you could be saved.

At that sentence, the woman who had pushed you turned around, she seemed to have heard Tara's pleads and begs, filled with hope, wishing that you were alive. "Oh honey, this girl has been deceased for over an hour...we can't save her."

The woman spoke apologetically and looked at Tara with sorrowed eyes. "I'm so sorry." She ended. Tara was about to scream at the lady, yell at her and tell them to at least try, you weren't gone. There was no way.

But before Tara got the chance to argue, Sam had pulled her into her chest, embracing Tara with a hug. And at that, Tara broke.

The sobs left her mouth faster than she could take them in, she didn't have any space to breathe.

"She's gone." She cried, her tears staining the older woman's shirt. "And I wasn't there to help her." Tara rambled, talking rapidly before the next sob would escape.

Sam didn't know what to say. She just stroke her younger sister's hair, trying to soothe her sobs.

She had never seen Tara this vulnerable and emotionally ruined, not even when she had reunited with Tara at the hospital the previous year.

Tara's body shook violently as each sob left her mouth.

It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.

Tara had been so confident with her decision only minutes before. She thought she had made the right move.

But it turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life.

A mistake she couldn't take back, and had to live with for the rest of her time alive.

[nouvxllev]

"When I saw you

I fell in love, and

you smiled

because you knew

-William Shakespeare"

LOVE.LOVE.LOVE.

I wanted to make a request! I had a similar interaction like this, and when I had read this, I fell inloveeeeee with this qoute sm. Can you do a Wednesday x Reader? In which it's Wednesday who actually falls inlove 😭

amore, amore, amore.

Pairing: Author!Wednesday Addams x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 6.0k (oh what the fuck)

Warnings: told in WEDNESDAYS POV AND ALTERNATE TIMELINES!, the gomezification of wednesday addams prevails, yes they meet at a museum, also kinda 7 husbands of evelyn hugo coded, slight plottwist at the end!

a/n: aaaa ofc ofc!! also i absolutely love the idea where wednesday fell first and harder

masterlist

I believe they cursed me the moment their lips became something worth fighting for.

"If they intend to halt my publishing, then so be it. I have no interest in entertaining that brain-dead company over countless of reasons as to why I shouldn't spare a few weeks for myself who believe I will fall under their will."

"Wednesday, they're the ones who publish your books, you just can't ignore their calls."

"Barclay, has your brain deteriorated to a degree in such a way that you are forgetting it's my presence that upholds that fucking company? Without me, they are nothing. Have you forgotten with how much power I withhold over them, or have your scales reached that hollow of a brain?"

"You can't ignore the leverage they have over you, sure you have the amount of money, if not more, to sue them, but they could literally tip you off and brand you as some selfish author."

"Please do comprehensively explain to me as to why I would be a selfish author?"

"Wednesday Friday fucking Addams, it's because you're half-way across the fucking world at some fucking museum in Italy while you have a manuscript due a fucking week ago!"

"I fail to see my fault."

"Addams, if you don't get your shit together, I swear—"

I had solved countless of murders in my time of Nevermore. I had one thing to do when I finally left, and I was going to succeed.

If you had told me after I willingly left that horrid place you call an educating institution that I would experience the same fate as an author, I would've traced the outer skin of your face with a pocket knife and display it on your family's doorstep.

Barclay, amongst others, remained someone I held close. She could be infuriating, but no one would ever be much deserving of a terrible, terrible position than be under my control as my manager when I pursued writing.

But no one tells you how people could easily forget you in a matter of seconds if you don't make a name for yourself when you've put yourself out there, even if it's something far, far from your own.

I was only fortunate enough people enjoyed what I publish.

I couldn't care less if they didn't, that's why I found it hard to give two shits about what that damned company thought of my revised schedule. But I needed to make a living. To make something out of myself.

If I had continued my actions— in which I have full control over with—I could lose everything.

I could've build it up from scratch if it happened, but Lucifer knows how long would a simple idea for a plot that could get into the lack of attention span of the population could take.

I could lose the name I print on paper.

I could lose my name.

And then I realized I haven't.

There was something that I was destined to fall under. It was there with my eyes taped to a painting, not knowing I became one for another.

I hung up. The mere thought of having a multistep plan to eventually murder my manager was between God and me. That woman had me teetering on the edge of becoming a one-hit serial killer overnight.

My head tilted over a large painting towering amidst the others down the line. My hands remained tucked deep within the pockets of a trench coat far too oversized for me.

I couldn't take much time of squinting, staring as if it had garnered my interest not after a dreaded phone call that I convinced myself truly took my energy and managed to inject anesthesia inside my veins.

A light sway became evident in my steps, as if I was sulking in my own woe of what I should and could've done to prevent myself fucking it up on a company that I could soon own if not me being under the age of what is required to own a firm without having to ring up my own godforsaken of a family.

I could almost take another step if I wasn't met with another person.

Countless of papers flew across the hard-tiled floor. It was over before I knew what had happened. I found myself standing there, eyes glued to the person I collided with, my eyebrows crossed and my mouth hung open like a fool.

"I'm—I'm so sorry, fuck." They grit under their breath, like they were berating themselves while they picked up the rest of what had fell.

I stood there, not knowing what to do or what not to do but stare at them and wait for them to pull themselves up.

And so that's what I did.

I wish I hadn't.

Because now it was the time I was unable to speak. Unable to use the words I've been writing my novels with, the words that I should've spoken in the seconds they had landed in front of me. For the first time, my words had failed me.

A question rang in my head, Why do I now feel as if I do not belong inside of my own body? Why does my life feel complete now that they were here?

When Y/n fixed herself, she looked at me and smiled. I knew I looked like an idiot staring at them, yet I never went out of my way to barely fix myself.

Why were they smiling?

"Why are you smiling?" I asked under my breath, like I was taken breathless. I hadn't mean to say it out loud, but my cold and otherwise damned heart seemed to be alive, like I was suffocating in my own rate. A fool in front of them I must've been.

They looked at their paper, then they looked at me.

They smiled yet again. Another question flicked across my head, what had happened to me to act as if I would go through hell and back for this person?

They smiled at me as if my presence gave them a reason to. And they loved me in every one of it.  

"Sorry—" they apologized, noticing how their thumb kept grazing the surface of their sketch, almost as if they were nervous. "You look prettier than... whatever I drew."

They stole one more look of me.

"Terrifyingly bewitching."

It's horrifying knowing I couldn't explain what I felt that day. What I know is—I felt everything.

I've endured endless remarks on my appearance ranging from a number of ratings from those nonsensical people on the internet to every synonym people have thrown my way only to fail to evoke even a flicker of emotion.

Though it seems egotistical, I knew they held one intention: they wanted to impress me. They wanted me to know they were different amongst others who have approached me. They wanted to entice me, as if I could be owned.

Were it not for the arsenal and threats I carried, there would be much more.

Y/n was different. They never had any intentions of being with me, no desire to impress or claim me as theirs. They simply wanted me to know I was. That it was true. I just had never heard it from someone who could mutter two words that felt perfect.

And it's much more terrifying knowing I unexpectedly fell first, even if I deny myself.

I could tell you about the way y/n smiled, how it seemed to threaten the sun, warning it not to shine lest it risk embarrassment in contrast of hers. I could tell you the way their eyes followed their smile, how their life was encapsulated in their drawings, mirroring what they felt.

Yet, when it comes to explaining how I fell for them, words escape me. Even I, a tortured author, struggle to describe.

How must I convey the sensation of my heart pounding in my ears as if it was trying to break me? The ache in my stomach, churning every chance it got, every fiber of my being dreadfully surrendering to them.

But one is for certain: meeting them was like coming home.

My home.

But I couldn't bring myself to realize that—It was antagonizing for me. Humiliating and mortifying knowing one person could make me become a total fool, become someone I've never thought I'd be.

I've spent my whole life after hiding what I felt for them, lest I risk experiencing what I truly loathe: love.

I despised them ever since I met them, loathed them, hated them. But for what for? I ask myself countless of times, I have never gotten an answer.

When they left, I left. Thinking it would be fate that had accidentally brought two people together who held no meaning for eachothers life, that it was a mistake, and I could've been wrong with how I'm feeling.

And when I came back, they were there.

And when I approached them, it felt right.

It was a week after the incident, but no matter how I tried, I still remember how their smile felt around me. Suffering, irritating, lovely. Like I wanted to relieve it, no matter how much time had passed.

Never once did I get their name in the span of meeting them, it was useless to know anyway.

Yet, I find myself returning to the museum every chance I get for God knows what, acting as if I had unfinished business staring at paintings while the staff rambled beside me. They were better off tattooing their explanation in my skull.

I had other places to attend to, other tasks I should've been doing rather than constantly visiting museum in the afternoon as if I have duties and low-paid labor for employment.

I should've been at my apartment days ago, exhausting myself on a half-assed manuscript I would have recurring thoughts of annihilating along with severing Bianca's hands through the phone.

What terrified me is why I was back.

Standing in front of them. My hands tucked deep inside the pockets of another trench coat, looking down on them sitting on one of the blocks of granite surrounding a oddly placed tree in the middle of the hall, drawing whatever there is to draw.

"Hello." I greeted them. They almost looked startled, surprised that I was even talking to them, like I was some vengeful ghost who returned to seek revenge. Though they weren't far off.

They looked up, immediately flipping over their clipboard as they locked eyes with me.

"Oh—" They cleared their throat, "Hi. Hey, hello." They smiled, albeit awkward. But that feeling of dread, or whatever, came back. Stronger than ever, I feared. I almost had half the mind of punching them in the gut and questioning them why they had this effect on me.

"Didn't know you come here often." A chuckle followed their question, or maybe it was a statement, placing their elbows on their lap while they gazed right at me.

I scoffed, murmuring against gritted teeth why did I even approach them in the first place. "And I didn't know you draw me that often."

I look down on the piece of paper, their deliberate and aggressive brush strokes having an effect on the paper, leaving marks upon marks. It was clear that I've been their subject for days on end. Even if I were to absent, I'd still be able to be the pinnacle of their sketches.

It was funny back then, humorous in my mind on how quick they snatched the piece of paper and tried to explain with little to no comprehension that went across their mind.

"Oh, God, no, no! I just—Okay, well, maybe I've been drawing you ever since I saw you, it's creepy now that I mention it... but it's just—it's dumb of me to not draw you, you know?" They were flustered, their mouth opening and closing only for me to receive words that were out of the dictionary.

They sighed, my lips twitched.

"I'd like to ask," My voice trailed off, grimacing even at the thought of having to initiate a conversation with more or less than five words, "What's... your name?"

"Y/N," They nodded, "L/N. Y/N/L/N." They reached out for a handshake only to immediately retract after a brief awkward seconds of staring. Their name sounded familiar.

"Why are you here?"

"Do I need to reason to?"

"I suppose so, no. But I am curious." Even I don't know why I'm still back here.

Y/n sighed, like I was the one getting on their nerves while it was me who battling against whatever fucked-up demon spawned in my stomach that caused me to feel, things.

"Nothing."

I frowned. "You came here because of.... Nothing?"

"Mhm."

"You are drawing strangers you know nothing about because of nothing?"

"Thought I made myself clear on that first word."

"You've made yourself look foolish than any average person."

"Well, you never told me your name. I think that's foolish enough over my case."

It was my turn to sigh.

"Addams." I reluctantly said to them, "Wednesday, Addams."

Then Y/n looked up at me as if I was some sort of otherworldly deity going back down to earth to finish whatever I started. "Wednesday Addams. I think I've heard that name before."

"No. No, you haven't."

If it wasn't horribly obvious, the sole purpose of my visit to Italy was to neglect everything I left behind in New York—especially deadlines— and hoped my eyes would finally work some sense that would let me start anew.

It was shameful of me, passion that dwindled into something less. If I had the chance, I would've tortured myself for even considering abandoning all of my life's work.

Though, I had my reasons. Even if I had threatened my target population and my audience, it still wouldn't be enough.

In short, I had lost motivation to pursue another book.

I felt as if there was something missing, that I couldn't even dare to even blow the collecting dust in the rims of my typewriter.

I begged for my brain to work, to even produce the slightest idea or word that could have some meaning to it. I was ready to write anything that came to mind, even if it was mediocre.

But, instead, my heart responded.

When I met Y/n, I started writing, and we started talking.

Words flowed through, and my time was wasted on Y/n.

My time was wasted, and they were wasted with their significant other.

I always thought I would suffer the thought of having to live an eternal life with none other than myself, that it was inevitable I was going to perish alone in my own woe.

It remained the same. Now, it's just having to live with the fact that my only greatest love had another.

I felt as if I ate a forbidden fruit once I heard they had someone that loved them as much as I denied myself of the same kind, like I plagued myself with hundreds of years of worry and attachment to someone who had eyes on another, a special muse they had.

Only that I would crumble immediately, tempted to take the fruit in my hands, forever stain my lips of something immoral so that I could forever crawl and weep over them.

In my time in Italy, I thought i'd be avoiding acquaintances that would be much more of a burden to me rather than someone useful. Yet there I was, watching Y/n saunter into my life like the revelation they were.

It's safe to say that Y/n turned out to be anything but a burden. They became someone I looked forward to seeing every day, though I hadn't realized they were motivation until then.

"Wends!"

Their awfully cheerful voice pierced through the air of the restaurant, almost granting the attention from other people as if they shared the same horrendous and dreadful nickname as me.

As much as I fantasized about walking out of the restaurant with y/n's half-broken jaw, I couldn't deny whatever was swirling in my head.

Ever since they knew of that wretched nickname unfortunately given to me by none other by that infectious and the ever infuriating ball of sunshine, Enid Sinclair, they've been calling me it as if I don't have a birth name.

It was a month ever since I've known Y/n, and it was a month of them being a constant presence in my life. They shared breakfast with me, lunches, and sometimes dinners that I somehow always and reluctantly accepted.

They became my routine, and it was a fact I'd sooner die with than confess to anyone.

Y/n slowly approached my table that was filled to the brim with countless of books and my oddly placed typewriter, putting their own stuff down on the seat beside them. "You're here early. You ordered something yet?"

It was 12PM. We agreed on 1, and I came at 10.

I scoffed, keeping my eyes on the typewriter. "You, of all people, should know by now that I would much rather sooner paint myself neon than touch anything on this menu."

I hear y/n setting their elbows on the table, resting their face between their hands. "Aw, c'mon Wends, it wouldn't kill you.

"Cyanide won't, but this will." I stopped writing to take one look at them, obviously and oddly, my gaze never and will never work on them. "Take my advice if you're eager to leave this restaurant with a mouth able to eat and speak."

"Ever the happiest person, Wends." They chuckled, sliding a somehow too bright and colorful menu towards them, "I'll order for you."

I stopped writing all together, "Y/n."

"Wednesday." They raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at her lips. It was over before I was even playing the game. Resistance over their lips felt futile anyway.

"Fine." I sighed, shutting my eyes closed just so that for once I can't have my stomach doing fucking acrobatics at the sight of them. "I will... allow it."

The ever-growing smile that crept up to their face was priceless, I couldn't bring myself to pry my eyes away. Murmuring something along the lines that I was too easy to lure in.

Once a waiter passed our table, Y/n ordered something along the lines of whatever the fuck 'Due Cream Soda Alla Vaniglia e Lampone con Glitter Commestibili' was. I was certain I was going to leave the restaurant with a non-working heart and a stomach turning inside and out.

It took no longer than a minute for Y/n to get a hold one of the numerous books piled infront of me. "Are you studying for something?" They asked, opening it only to close it once they noticed how outdated some of the languages are.

I let a small chuckle pass my lips. "What drives you to such a hypothesis."

They gestured to the books and my typewriter, "By how you're literally surrounded by books and you're on a fucking typewriter instead of a laptop." They pointed out, murmuring another, "Also, who the hell says hypothesis."

"People with functioning frontal lobes." I quipped, letting my fingers write on instinct across the typewriter keys as I listened to Y/n's ramblings. "I'm... writing."

"You're an author?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Are you a painter? An artist?"

"Well... I—no?"

"Then we both don't know what we're doing."

Y/n fell silent moments after, I couldn't help but miss the sound of their voice. Admitting the mere thought aloud seemed absurd, let alone thinking it in the first place. I would've bashed my head on top of my typewriter if not for my resistance.

"How long will you be staying in Italy?" they eventually asked.

"Two more weeks," I replied. "My flight is already scheduled, I'll be leaving then on."

"Oh."

I wasn't expecting an answer anything other than a hint of happiness that I was eventually leaving their life.

"You are?" They repeated, as if they couldn't believe such a statement even escaped my lips, clear disappointment flickering across their face. "That's not... long."

"I am certainly not saying here indefinitely now that I have something to continue when I've arrived at my destination." I cleared out, doing my very best to escape the impending guilt washing over me.

"I'll miss you, Wednesday."

Their words were sincere. Lovely. It had stopped me from writing all together.

Guilt wasn't a feeling I was familiar with at the time. I rarely come across such a feeble emotion. Now it felt like I've committed something immoral. There were times that I lie for my own convenience, and nothing more than my own reason.

Now it felt like I should've lied for them.

I will forever miss you.

I wrote. I never showed them.

One week had passed and I rarely ever got to see Y/n after. Our encounters became increasingly scarce, and their voice plagued me from days on end.

I clung to the faithless hope I had that they would text me, to reach out, to even show me they're alive and well.

I returned to the museum for every day they were absent in my life, searching for any sign of their presence, but each day ended in disappointment.

Of course, fate is indifferent to my yearning, refusing to grant someone I so desperately sought.

Regret gnawed at me as the days turned into a week, and the week turned into the day before my flight.

"Addams. I've heard from others that you've been writing."

"Who others?"

"I'll spare a name to spare New York a corpse found in their sewage pipes by the time you've, hopefully I assume, returned and not jump off the plane."

"Even if I went off the grid, your nagging would've been in spirit."

"Don't flatter me."

"Don't kill yourself without showing me a video tape in full resolution for me to get through rough weeks. Or maybe take a shotgun and shoot yourself in your garage and let me have the keys to your house."

"Addams."

I sigh. "Yes, the rumors—though I would want that vampires head on a stake—are true. I've been writing."

"What happened to you there? You met someone?"

"How'd you know—No. No, I—I haven't. What makes you come to such a foolish conclusion?"

"Oh my God, someone actually managed Wednesday—I'd rather kill myself before loving anyone—Addams to fall terribly in love with them. Who's the unfortunate soul?"

"I would not be naming them because they do not exist."

"You just stuttered, Wednesday. The only thing making you stumble your words is when you're overdosing on whatever poison you're having for breakfast."

"They're no one."

"How are you such a bad liar when you have countless of bodies hidden across the globe?"

I sigh again, this time, it was out of annoyance. "I'll be hanging up. Goodbye, Barclay. If ever you are considering to kill yourself, call me. I'll be at my most happiest to watch."

"Wait, no, Wednesday! I need progress on your—"

I hung up. It was pointless to answer her calls when I was a mere few step away from boarding a plane. She always had a way of getting under my skin, even from across the damn globe.

But there was one name that would always surface in my thoughts: Y/n.

The mere thought of their name will forever remind me of how my heart wasn't programmed to love.

I reached for my phone, fingers tracing over the cold screen. My mind was tired, blank. The only thing I could ever do is stare at their contact and wish I could've done something better.

I typed out a hesitant message, my thumb hovering over the send button as if it was something that could end my world. Only two thoughts ran to my mind: Would they reply, or would my message be nothing to them?

I almost hit send before I heard footsteps approaching me.

"Y/n?"

I whispered their name, the love I carried for them being surrendered like I'd crawl for them once I reached purgatory.

"What are you doing here?" My eyebrows furrowed. How could they leave me, only to return as I was about to depart? "Why are you here, you disappeared, avoided me, why—"

"He proposed to me."

Oh.

I always thought a near-death experience with a loved one would be the deepest I could feel.

I realized I was wrong.

Now my eyes ached to the sting. Like I was weeping for someone that perished in my heart, I grieve for a living soul that was me. It was pathetic.

I expected them to be overjoyed, over the moon as they would express themselves from time to time.

But when I met their eyes, all I saw were tears streaming down their face.

Oh, how I wished to wipe their worries away.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know if I love him."

"Nonsense... You told me you loved him—"

"Well, maybe I haven't been saying anything true to you!"

"Look, I don't know what I'm doing—I don't know what the hell are we doing. I'm living in some apartment with some guy I don't even know I even love, I'm currently standing here like an idiot to a girl who's just about to leave my life, and you're—"

"You're everything."

It was that moment I realized I was lost in a haze of admiration and love for Y/n.

That I was far too deep in their life that they became mine. I never knew I needed them as much when I told them to leave with me and break up with their significant other.

I never knew I needed their lips onto mine until the moment I pulled them close to me.

Now I ache of them.

"Do you regret it, mother? Being such a fool for someone, you became what you hated most. But you endured it all for them."

Wednesday Addams, seating across the bed from her daughter, Blair Addams. She looked just like you, she'd always wonder.

Wednesday sighed, her hand reaching out to gently touch Blair's. "Do you know the phrase, 'Come ti vidi M’innamorai, E tu sorridi Perchè lo sai?'" she asked softly.

"You know I've never indulged myself in whatever you're reading." She shook her head with a smile. She looked even more like you.

She let her fingers trace patterns on her hand, her gaze wandering else where. "Well, it translates to 'When I first met you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew," she explained.

"And do you believe in that, mother?"

Wednesday could almost smile. Her daughter was always the curious one, yet she always managed to be privy of her life from them. "I always believed Y/N knew the moment we first laid eyes on each other, I fell in love with them."

"So, yes, my raven." She nodded, "I do."

"I never knew Y/n would make me their title, their theme, their muse," Wednesday pondered, "I always wondered why i fell for them."

"Falling is an accident, gullible, like with people who fail to do basic things. But I am one of those people if not more if I fell for their on accident and continued to do so."

She sat beside Blair, her legs crossed beside her. "I've never told you at the time, but Y/n was a painter. And they wanted nothing more but than to forget about their past. They have never told me as to why, but I believe them.""

"I worried that my love was violence. It was pain, it was suffering. But y/n took care of themselves, they took care of me. There is no one in the world who had loved me more than them, I fear that it would break them, that I am deemed no longer someone who is a part of their story."

"Yet here we are."

Wednesday couldn't see the smile creeping from her daughters lips. But she knew it was there, just like how you looked like before. She will always and forever take pride in it.

She always thought her greatest love could be something of a passion, a talent, a hobby perhaps.

But no one told her it could be a person.

Blair stretched and turned on a light beside her bed, opening a drawer and taking out two of Wednesday's books. "Must they be the reason your books has been off to your prior ones, mother? You've written all your life of gore and mystery. Now it's romance."

"Well, I—"

"Oh, I'm definitely the reason why your mother has been subtly—not-so-subtly, switching to the romance genre."

You peered through the door, your body wrapped up in a cozy boritto style and everything with a train draping it's way to your back like some met-gala dress.

"Oh, mon chéri," Wednesday's face lit up at the sight of you, immediately standing up and pulled you close, her arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

Her lips met yours in soft kisses, leaving the taste of faint vanilla chapstick lingering on your lips. "Why are you up so late?"

"Well," You grinned against her lips, "I felt our bed getting cold and to my surprise my wife isn't nowhere near me. You know how I can't sleep without you." She pulled away, you whined at the lost of contact, but you couldn't smile more brightly as she led you towards your daughter. "G'evening, Blair."

"Evening, Y/n." She greeted you before you kissed her on the forehead.

You leaned against Wednesday's shoulder, whispering softly, "You're telling her our story again?"

Wednesday would've thought her small chuckle went unnoticed, but you definitely heard it. The stupid smile on your face told everything.

Her hand found yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She loves it."

"You love it, mother. Probably more than me." Blair retorted back, evident that she was holding back a laugh.

"I do not! When did I ever—"

"Oh, honey, you know love turns your mother into a girl version of your abuelo.

"Do not ever refer to me as my love drunk father or I will subject you to sleeping on the couch." Wednesday rolled her eyes, pinching the back of your palm. "And please do not shame my work of referring to it as such. I've worked hard day and night yet you proceed call it by such an exasperate—"

You turned your head and pressed a kiss on her cheek, the same spot where her freckles resided, causing her to pause mid-sentence. After atleast ten years of being with her, it always made you so giddy.

"Not even in marriage am I spared by your passive aggressive comments," you teased, your lips curling into a smile as you leaned in closer to her.

You hear your daughter sigh after a brief second, "Addams."

Wednesday almost looked shocked, "My Raven, do not call us by our last—"

"Please exit my room. I'll be going to sleep."

And then, the both of them were shoved off before they could even hug their daughter and kiss her goodnight like they always did.

"I... We were rejected, Y/n." Wednesday exclaimed, like she just got struck with the most heartbreaking news. "She used to love our stories together when she was an infant."

You'd think Wednesday was the non-chalant mom who's strict on her child. But, to your surprise, she was the opposite.

She loved Blair just as much she loved you. Hell, you even considered just maybe, maybe not, disowning your daughter because she gets Wednesday's attention more than you do.

You shrugged, taking her hand and leading her to your upstairs bedroom. "It gets stale once in a whileeeOW!" You winced as Wednesday pinched the back of your palm, again. It was starting to become her love language at this point.

"I'm just kidding!" You reassured her, intertwining your fingers with hers as you walked up the stairs together, pulling the door open for your wife. "She's just in her rebellious teen phase, let it go."

Wednesday rolled her eyes, "Too cliche."

"You used to have one too," you scoffed, settling onto your side of the bed and watching as she laid down on hers.

It was a routine you found yourself often doing, taking in the sight of your beloved as if your life with Wednesday was all a dream. You pinch yourself like almost thrice a day just to really make sure.

"Since when?" Wednesday asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement, quietly shuffling towards you.

You sat up for a moment to undo her braids. You always liked playing with her hair, and that one time she asked of you to undo hers, it became a routine. "Since the beginning of time. And somehow, you never grew out of it."

"You didn't even meet me in my teenage years. I am far from rebellious."

"Yes, baby, but not too far from a death penalty." You chuckled, reaching out to gentle stroke her hair, leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

"Oh, you flatter me," she replied, a smirk across her lips, but the room was too dim to even notice it.

By now, if you were any ordinary person, Wednesday would've made you disappear entirely. But, the thing is, Wednesday always seemed to look at you as if her life never really started until she found you.

Silence managed to take over the atmosphere, you laid back on the comfortable mattress, feeling Wednesday's head nestled on your arms that were tucked under her hair.

You could almost fall asleep in pure bliss knowing that you've met and loved the girl of your dreams if not for her calling out for you.

"Amore." She whispered.

"Amore?" She whispered again, her voice softer than ever before.

You blinked, momentarily. You swore you just heard an angel. "Yes, amore?"

"Can I... Can you—"

You smiled, almost too knowingly. You knew Wednesday, for someone who's such a romantic soul, she's not too expressive on simple terms like these. "Do you want to be the little spoon?"

She grimaced, you could even hear her grunts of disapproval. "I would highly refrain from calling it that before I jump out of bed and skin you from limb to limb. But... yes, I would like to."

A soft chuckle escaped your lips at her response, suppressing a grin to avoid from literally being murdered as you wrapped your arms around her and pulled her close.

Ten years before, if someone had told you that you're going to be doing this to girl you've met at a museum while trying to escape your past, let alone be happily married to her, you would've told them "How the fuck do you know that and please stay away, I have... a boyfriend. I guess."

But now, it seemed so believable. Wednesday was always so relaxed in your arms, your warmth and hers bringing a sort of comfort for the both of you.

You nuzzled your head against the back of her neck, gently moving strands of her hair aside as you pressed soft kisses against her skin, hoping to kick away her tension from the day.

"Stop pouting, Wends," you murmured softly into her skin as you closed your eyes in pure relief.

You hear her scoff, "I am not doing such a humiliating act."

"Oh but you so are." Your grin widening as you pressed another gentle kiss against her nape, "I can hear it from here."

Wednesday let out a sigh, of annoyance? Maybe. But was it tinged with pure adoration and love? Much so. "You don't hear pouts, Y/n."

"When it comes to you, I do and I can."

Silence washed over. This time, you're worried you've teased her that much, she actually got annoyed with you.

"You're awfully quiet. By this time, you're probably threatening to kill me."

"I'm... Sorry." Wednesday whispered, it has an undying tone of tenderness that you don't often see it being expressed through words from her. Slowly, she shifted her body to face yours.

One thing is for certain: She was still so terrifyingly bewitching if not more. She looked pretty in every way possible, it's hard to even believe, it left you in awe.

You feel her gaze darting on your eyes and then drifting down to your lips, hesitating even. It was ridiculous, in the most adorable way possible there is for an Addams like her.

"May I kiss you?"

"You know you're always welcome. It's pointless to ask."

She was the first to reach out, her hand finding it's way to the curve of your cheek, her touch gentle than ever as she traced the line of your jaw as if she was memorizing every feature of yours.

You cupped her face in reciprocation, leaning in closer to where your lips were just hovering inches away from hers. Then, you closed the space between the both of you.

You pulled away, your eyes meeting hers with a soft smile. It was impossible to think that this woman held your heart in her hands like it was nothing.

"Have I ever told you that you're pretty?" you whispered, letting your hands fall to her waist and pulled her close.

"Ever since you've met me."

“You know, I’m surprised you even remember our first meeting.”

“Oh, how could I ever forget my lover?”

You laughed, a symphony that always gets Wednesday to have a slight tug in her lips. “Stop being so romantic. You are a grown woman with a daughter.”

You continued to stare into her eyes as you drape the rest of the blanket for the both for you. "It's hard to think you're the first one to fall in love and not me."

"It's hard to think of anything when you're here with me, te amo." Wednesday replied, her gaze softening almost immediately.

You sighed. "You know I love you, right?"

Wednesday blinked. "I always will."

You smiled.

And Wednesday smiled back.

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

a/n: this was longer than i thought. i yap too much in stories i fear

[fan-fantasies]

Calm Your Mind

A/N: I’ve been feeling pretty down about myself lately and this was completely self indulgent. Please read the warnings!

Pairing: Aemond x reader

Warnings: body insecurity, mentions of not eating to lose weight, self deprecating thoughts, one suggestive moment at the end, just overall sadness and fluff

Please comment and reblog

Solemn. That was the best word to describe how you looked sitting in the garden with the princess and her children.

You enjoyed Heleana’s company more than anything, but your mood as of late was deteriorating and was affecting all aspects of your life. Truth be told, you were envious- envious of her children and of her beauty. The babes were still young and she looked as slender as ever. Even though she was married, men still stared and envied her husband, even the guards watching over her.

Aemond was not one to sit in the gardens often, but he found himself there more and more since you came to be at his sister’s side. He had noticed the change in your demeanor, once happy and glowing to having such a sad look in your eyes that Aemond couldn’t help but hurt for you.

Your thoughts became too much so you excused yourself and hurried off so you could wallow in the privacy of your own room. Unbeknownst to you, privacy just wasn’t in the foreseeable future.

Before Aemond could talk himself out of it, he found himself following you. He was not the best at comforting people, but for you, he’d try.

“Lady, excuse my intrusion, but I thought I’d walk you to your destination,” he offered.

You always had a soft spot for him- the misunderstood prince. You saw firsthand how gentle he was with his sister and knew he had a kind heart beneath the icy exterior.

“I was just retiring to my chamber for the day, my Prince. I’d very much like your company on the walk there,” you said with a soft smile.

“Retiring before dinner? Are you ill?”

You knew he meant nothing by his questions, but what you heard was you never miss a meal so something must be wrong. Your arm covered your stomach almost subconsciously.

“Not ill, just feeling as though I could use some time to myself,” you said.

“I shall send a plate to your room then,” he told you.

“That’s quite unnecessary, my Prince, although much appreciated all the same.”

“Lady, you must eat,” he protested. You arrived at your chamber doors and sighed.

“I promise I will be quite alright missing one meal,” you snapped. He shrunk back at the remark and your heart dropped. “My apologies, I don’t know what’s come over me these days.”

“It’s fine-“

“No, it’s not. You are trying to be kind to me and I am being rude. So please, accept my apology, your grace.”

“I will accept, only if you agree to two things,” he said. You nodded, waiting for him to go on. “The first is that you call me Aemond. The second, allow me to join you for supper in your chamber. I promise I won’t bring a feast.”

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” you nodded. “Allow me some time to tidy my chambers.”

“As you wish, my lady. I shall return shortly,” he bowed slightly before hurrying off.

You rushed around your room trying to make it presentable. You were incredibly nervous to be sharing a meal with Aemond in private.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in your mirror and froze. Of course he’s dining with you in private; he’d never be seen publicly with you. Or at least that’s the cruelty your mind forced upon you.

Before you knew it, there was a knock upon your door. You opened it to see Aemond trying to balance a tray with two bowls and a canter of wine. In this other hand he held two glasses. You rushed him inside so he could set it down.

“Surely you could’ve had a servant carry that for you,” you chided.

“I’m more than capable of doings things for myself or for us,” he chuckled. You ignored the way your stomach did a flip at his words.

“This smells divine,” you commented.

“It is merely soup, but it is delicious and one my mother would often had made for me when I wasn’t feeling like myself.”

“I thank you for it, my pr- Aemond.”

“Please sit,” he motioned to the chair at your small table. He gave you a bowl and started to pour your wine which made you chuckle. “Are my pouring skills really that laughable?” He asked with a small smirk.

“It's just odd to be served by a Prince.”

“To you, I am just Aemond. There is no reason why I should not serve you, my lady,” he said quietly.

When he was finished, he sat across from you and the two of you ate in a comfortable silence. The comfort did not last for long, however, as he decided to strike up a conversation.

“I do not mean to pry, but I’ve noticed you seem a bit solemn lately. Are you not enjoying your time at the Keep?” He asked.

“I very much enjoy my time here with your family. It’s just…it’s nothing really. I don’t want to bother you with my silly thoughts.”

“I swear you are never a bother. If there is something I can do to help, I’d at least like to try.”

You hesitated for a moment before sighing.

“I’ve found myself envious of your sister, of her beautiful family,” you mumbled.

“You know she cares for you as if you were our blood,” he said.

“It’s not that, I know she cares for me and I, her. I am envious that she has a husband, despite who it is, and children. I just do not see that in my future,” you admitted. Aemond’s gaze softened.

“Lady, anyone would be lucky to be your husband. I am sure you have many suitors waiting for an opportunity.” You let out a dry laugh.

“Oh I promise you I do not. Heleana is married and she has more suitors than I. She is always asked to dance at the banquets and I am not. She is beautiful and I…am not.”

“I do not agree with that statement. I think you are both beautiful in your own ways,” he said.

“Well no one else seems to agree with your sentiment.” Aemond had a guilty look on his face but you were too busy staring at your dinner to notice.

“Is that why you didn’t want to eat supper?” He asked quietly. You gave him a small nod.

“Lady, please don’t ever think you have to starve yourself for the sake of any idiotic man who does not see your beauty.”

You refused to make eye contact with him until you reached across the table and took your hand in his.

“Promise me any time you begin to have doubts about yourself or your future, you will find me so I can disperse such delusions.”

“I promise,” you said bashfully.

The two of you finished your dinner, exchanging small pleasantries here and there. It was the best supper and company you had in a long while.

“I shall see you at Helaena’s name day celebrations in a few days time, yes?” He asked, cleaning up your dishes.

“Will I not see you tomorrow?” You asked, a flicker of disappointing in your eyes.

“I have some business to attend to in the North, but I shall return in time for the festivities.”

“Then I shall see you there,” you nodded.

He retired from your chambers and as he said, he was gone the next morning. While you were partially not looking forward to Helaena’s banquet, his promise to see you there was enough to give you some excitement for the event.

The days passed quickly with the preparations and keeping the Princess company. Any time an unhappy thought crossed your mind you just thought back to Aemond. No matter how much you wanted to keep your promise to him, at the time for the celebration got closer your thoughts became worse.

Helaena had a gown made for you as a thanks for your friendship, an unnecessary gesture but still appreciated. It was not something you would normally choose; pitch black with a single sapphire broach sitting centered on the neckline.

It was a bit too tight for your liking, but you wore it to make her happy.

The banquet went on like any other; Aegon was in his cups before it started and couldn’t care less at Helaena dancing with other men. You sat at the main table alone, as per usual. You were disappointed when Aemond was not there, but you knew he usually came late and left early.

You picked at the food in front of you, not having an appetite. You let your mind wander so much that you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

“Lady, would you do the me honor of dancing with me?” Aemond’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

“You want to dance?” Aemond never danced.

“With you, yes.” He held out his hand and you took it softly. He led you to the dance floor where all eyes were on you.

Aemond was a good dancer, of course. He was good at everything.

“Your dress is quite lovely,” he commented.

“Thank you, your sister had it made for me,” you smiled. You noticed now that you matched his all black attire and you knew he was fond of sapphires. Did Helaena know of the feelings you harbored for her brother?

“How was your journey?” You asked as he spun you amongst the crowd.

“Quite beneficial. Your family is from the North, are they not?”

“They are, my prince. It is kind of you to remember that.”

“I remember everything about you- your laugh, every fleck of color in your eyes, every gorgeous curve of your body. I listen intently whenever you grace us with your voice.”

You swore your heart stopped when you heard his words. You began to stumble over your own feet so you stopped dancing altogether.

“Aemond, what-“

“I have asked your father for your hand, my lady. He has agreed and now I ask with all my heart, will you do me the honor of taking me as your husband? Your beauty is beyond compare and your mind is just as lovely.”

Tears began to sting at your eyes, everyone slowly stopping to watch the scene before them.

“Surely you don’t mean it,” you whispered. “Aemond, you are a prince and I am…me.”

“Is that a no?” He asked, slightly disheartened.

“No! I mean, no it’s not no. I- if you truly mean it then yes. Nothing would make me happier than to marry you,” you said. A few people clapped and you could see Alicent and Helaena smiling from the corner of your eye.

Aemond pressed a kiss to your hand before pulling you back into his arms to dance. People began to go about their own business but you wouldn’t have noticed anyway; it felt like you and Aemond were the only people in the world.

“There may be one thing that would make me happier than marrying you-“ he said out of nowhere- “making a family with you might top that.”

“Do you truly mean it?”

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I truly mean it, my love. And I hope for a quick betrothal; I am not sure how long I can keep my hands off of you. I think we may need to practice making that family,” he said, lowering his hand to the curve of your ass and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Aemond!” You gasped in shock. The prince gave you a dazzling smile, one you couldn’t help but return. “I think I shall like being your wife.”

“And the loveliest wife you will be.”

[queenshelby]

Yes! Mr Murphy (Rewritten)

PART 39: PRE BAFTA-RUMOURS

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Lots of Angst, Age Gap, Teacher x Student, Pregnancy Loss, Infertility

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

A few days later...

As you arrived in London for the BAFTAs, sharing an apartment with Kit, you couldn't help but feel the nervousness building inside you. Dressed in a beautiful gown, you took extra care to ensure that your makeup and hairstyle were impeccable, wanting to make a lasting impression on Cillian.

Cillian's wife Danielle was there too, attending the event with her new boyfriend who was also an actor, and you took the opportunity to thank her for the things she said about you in her interview when you ran into her in the hotel lobby before getting dressed for the event. 

Kit, observing your preparations and clearly disapproved of your outfit. Jealousy was clearly building inside her as Cillian himself had to spend time with his agent and publicist, preparing for potential interview questions.

"Perhaps you should have gotten a stylist. Your dress and make-up look pretty basic," Kit remarked sarcastically, telling you that your boyfriend was outdressing you tonight. 

"Well, tonight is about Cillian, not me. Despite, I feel comfortable and happy with my appearance," you retorted, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a playful smirk.

"Honestly, I am not sure what Cillian sees in you," Kit continued her sarcasm, making it evident she was bothered by your presence.

Her jealousy was starting to become transparent, and you couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She wanted to be Cillian's partner, yet here you were, sharing a bed with him and receiving his compliments.

"As opposed to you, you mean?" you thus asked playfully, turning away from her gaze, feeling somewhat hurt by her bitterness.

Deep down, you knew she felt threatened by your presence, and it troubled you. You didn't want to cause any discord between her and Cillian, but it seemed inevitable. Your relationship with Kit was slowly becoming strained, and it seemed destined to deteriorate further.

Kit sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair. She knew that confronting the situation wasn't going to do anything but damage her relationship with Cillian. Yet, she couldn't contain her resentment. "Yes, as opposed to me, or anyone else really. Maybe he likes you because you're young and naive, easy to control," Kit spat venomously, her eyes narrowing with hatred.

Your heart ached at her vitriolic remarks, but you chose to ignore them. Your priority was enjoying the BAFTAs with Cillian, and you didn't want to let Kit's words ruin your evening.

"Kit, please stop. You're only making things worse for yourself and it is emberassing," you warned her calmly, trying to diffuse the tension.

"Make things worse? You've already done that! Just by being here. You shouldn't have come here tonight. You are the one who is going to embarrass him. This whole relationship you have together is a joke," Kit hissed, her voice laced with anger and frustration, which, even for her, was unusual. Something had happened to trigger this sudden outburst of emotion that day and you did not know what it was. She was usually a little more tactful than that.

Feeling upset by her words, you tried to understand where this animosity was coming from.

"Kit, please stop," you pleaded, desperately trying to maintain a sense of civility for Cillian's sake. However, her bitter response caught you off guard.

"I respect your working relationship with Cillian. You are his assistant, but other than that, you really need to stay in line, especially when it comes to Cillian's personal life," you stated firmly, standing your ground.

Kit glared at you, her eyes flashing with malice. Her jealousy had morphed into rage, threatening to destroy everything she held dear.

"You know we slept with each other, right? The last time we came to London. We stayed in the same hotel as we are staying in now and I just think that you should know about it. I am clearly more than just his assistant," Kit continued with a sneer, her lips curling into a malicious grin.

Your stomach dropped at her admission even though you already knew about it.

"I already know, Kit. Cillian told me. So, what are you implying? That he is in love with you just because you had a one-night stand?" you demanded, trying to regain composure.

"No Silly, I am just saying that we had sex, and it almost happened again, last night, when I came over to his place," Kit answered coldly, her eyes hardening with resentment.

Your heart shattered at her vicious words, feeling the weight of betrayal as you realized just how deeply Kit harbored her feelings for Cillian. The bond between you and Cillian had grown over time, and the prospect of him having an affair with Kit shook you to your core. But, you couldn't allow your insecurities to take hold of you. You needed to keep your composure and remind yourself that you trusted Cillian.

"Cillian is not someone who cheats Kit, and we are together. No matter what you tell me, I won't get involved in a conversation like this, so you need to mind your own business. I don't believe a word you are saying," you assured her, your voice steady and resolute.

You knew you had to draw a line in the sand, protecting your relationship with Cillian.

Kit's eyes narrowed, her face flushed with anger.

"You honestly have no idea what you got yourself in to Y/N. He cheated on Danielle, twice, and he will be cheating on you," she muttered under her breath, barely audible.

Despite her hostile words, you continued to stand your ground, determined not to let her threats intimidate you.

"Kit, I appreciate your concern, but you cannot scare me with this. This conversation needs to end right now. We need to prepare for tonight," you replied calmly, attempting to defuse the tension.

Kit's face twisted into a mixture of anger and envy, a dangerous combination.

She couldn't stand seeing you and Cillian together, knowing how much you meant to each other and, just as she was about to speak up again, Cillian finally walked into the apartment.

His gaze flickered between the two of you, and he could feel the tension in the room. 

"Is everything alright?" Cillian questioned calmly, trying to understand the reason behind the obvious hostility between you and his assistant Kit. He knew that you did not like her, but he also knew that you were usually respectful towards her.

Kit's eyes hardened with resolve, her jaw clenched tightly. She knew that this was her opportunity to undermine your relationship with Cillian.

"Yes. There is nothing to worry about, Cillian. We were just discussing our plans for tonight," you lied, hoping to divert attention away from the conflict brewing between you and Kit. You knew how much he hated events like this and you wanted to give him your unconditional support regardless of how desperate you were to know what happened the night before when Kit visited Cillian in his apartment.

"Good, I am glad," he said before laying eyes on you and smiling warmly. "You look beautiful by the way. Simply stunning. The dress suits you," he then complimented you sincerely, his blue eyes sparkling with admiration before he approached you and pulled you in for a kiss.

His warm lips pressed against yours, causing your body to shiver with excitement.

"Thank you Cillian. You don't look so shabby yourself," you whispered softly, feeling your heart swell with happiness. The gentle touch of his hands along your arms sent electric currents throughout your entire body, even as Kit evidently gave you both a look of disapproval.

"We need to leave in ten minutes," she reminded you both , still seething with jealousy.

"Alright, Kit. Thank you," you responded politely, trying to appease her as best as possible.

Despite her visible displeasure, you managed to share a few tender moments with Cillian before leaving for the awards ceremony.

During the drive to the event, your hands intertwined with Cillian's, sending waves of passion coursing through your veins. Your heart pounded in anticipation of the night ahead, filled with glamour and excitement.

And yet, you couldn't help but wonder how much about what Kit had said to you was true. 

You hoped fervently that it was all lies concocted to sow discord among you and Cillian. You believed in your budding romance, but hearing rumors like these made your skin crawl. It wouldn't make sense for Cillian to risk everything you had overcome in recent weeks just for fleeting encounters with his assistant. And while you had seen some chemistry between them during various events, there was something about Cillian's connection with you that transcended this superficial attraction.

His gaze held such depth, promising a lifetime of adventures shared together and yet, you found yourself lost in thought - wondering if perhaps there was truth in the allegations Kit brought forth earlier.

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[shamrockqueen]

Grizzly: Chapter 6

Pairing : Alphas Andy Barber/Curtis Everett/Jake

Jensen x omega reader

Warnings : maximum angst, Sexual contact,

Word count :

A03 link

Masterlist

Summary: Being a homeless omega was extremely dangerous, which was why you had chosen to take shelter in the nearby woods instead of out in any of the towns. You happen upon not one, not two, but three alpha brothers, marking each day more dangerous than the last.

Curtis hadn’t spoken since the night prior. There seemed to be many times that he’d try to talk, only to swallow the words back down as he stared out towards the sterile hospital hallway. Brow furrowed and teeth tight, he just stared.

Jake tried in vain to coax something out of his brother. The confession from the previous night left the young man shaken and confused. He would never have imagined his brother capable of something so horrible, and he still fought to think that maybe Curtis didn’t remember everything correctly. Yet, the unnerving presence of the strange omega left him fearful that Curtis was telling the truth.

Eventually, their stay in the hospital would have to end. The staff insisted on further observation, but Jake knew from the darkening circles under his brother’s eyes that being far from his Omega was making the older man slowly deteriorate. So, the two reluctantly refused to stay any longer and loaded back into the car, this time with Curtis in the front passenger seat beside his younger brother.

What awaited them at the cabin was stomach-churning, yet it mirrored the scene that Andy and Jake had found themselves in the day prior. Only much more somber.

Jakes pulled back onto the road but hadn’t been driving for very long before turning off towards a small pharmacy. The hospital agreed to send some meds over when Curtis had been hastily trying to leave without further treatment. The nurse told Jake where to collect the suppressants and pain pills, pointing out a little mom-and-pop shop up the road.

Curtis eyed his brother upon their immediate stop, but Jake assured him that “I just gotta grab a few things; we’ll be back on the road soon.”

The older man didn’t answer with words, only a brief nod before turning his head towards the window to look out at the road. Curtis’s mind was elsewhere like it was before, and Jake feared that he was losing him again.

The exchange was quick. The little old beta at the counter sensed something was off the moment he stepped into the store and got him the needed prescriptions as soon as he gave her the patient's name and date of birth.

“Rough week?” She asked as he rang up the order. “Like you wouldn’t believe,” Jake answered back with a twang of pain in his voice.

Jake grabbed the bag and left quickly before dropping back into the passenger seat and digging the medicine out of the bag for his brother, along with some water he bought alongside it.

“Can you please take the medicine? Curtis?” Jake asked shakily. It almost felt like his brother couldn’t hear anymore, like his voice just couldn’t reach whatever void the older man’s mind was locked into.

Curtis didn’t even look towards his brother as he grabbed the vile of pills from his open hand and the water from the other. The meds were downed quickly and silently before he handed them back. He met his younger brother’s gaze only briefly, but even in a split second, Jake had to search his brother's eyes. Yet all he found was a deep edge of despair.

Curtis' gaze shifts away again. He chooses instead to stare out at the road as Jake pulls back onto it and leads them towards the cabin. It would be a while until they reached the once beloved vacation destination, but something in the bottom of Jake's stomach told him something would be off once they arrived, and he wouldn’t be wrong.

You were still in Andy’s arms when the roar of an engine alerted him to their arrival. The crunch of the tires over icy gravel signaled the crumbling of this little bubble of heat he had shared with you.

Jake stepped out of the car first as Curtis stared out at the front door. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck as a chill overtook his body, making his joints ache as he fought off the urge to burst out of the car and towards the cabin.

Jake smelled it as soon as he got to the door, his hand barely grazing the brass handle. It made his stomach twist, and the sting of bile rose up his throat. He turned back to the car, his breath a heavy cloud in the cold air as he shouted to the older man.

“Stay there!”

Curtis stopped, leaving the door of the car half open with one boot on the icy ground.

A smell lingered in the air from the closed door. God only knows how potent it would be inside the house. It was a familiar sensation with the omega scent lurking heavily, but this time it was coupled with a different alpha musk.

Jake watched as his brother started to sniff at the air as panic filled his eyes. His fingers dug into the side of the car door as he had to hold himself up while his eyes circled around the surrounding woods.

A heavier cloud of the mixed scents billowed out as the door cracked open. Andy’s face broke through the dark interior as his body slipped past the small opening he’d made. His skin was an odd shade of gray-pink, his short blonde hair was messy, and his beard was still tinted red from the blood that had dried into it. Finally around his hand was a dirty bandage from the now-unseen cut he’d caused after smashing that glass in his fist—a moment of both great strength and extreme weakness.

Curtis felt dizzy from just the sight of the older man and the thick smell of his omega tainted with that of his own brother.

“What the fuck did you do?” Curtis’ voice was broken and heavy with the sorrowful realization of what had happened, but something in him didn’t want to believe it.

Curtis’s feet were heavy as he lifted them along the icy gravel road, closer to Andy.

“What..did you do..?”

“Curtis, don’t.” Jake tried to grab onto his brother’s coat as he slowly approached Andy.

Jake walked behind Curtis, knowing he’d have to lunge at the already injured man if he were to become feral again. His last utterance to this sad exchange would be “Oh my God,” mostly spoken to himself as he processed the unfathomable.

The closer Curtis gets, the louder he speaks next. “What did..you..do..?”

The tears brimmed up in Andy’s already red eyes as Curtis drew slowly closer and screamed, “What have you done?!”

Andy’s voice was like dragged gravel as he finally answered “something terrible,” and Curtis winced.

There was no fight left in either of the men; they were simply too drained. Curtis suffered from a combination of his concussion and being pulled away from you as the bond between you and him was twisted. For Andy, it was from giving you so much of himself for the last day and a half.

Curtis only grips the sleeves of his brother's shirt as he breaks, finally shattering as the weight of what has become of this whole ordeal finally crushes him. His grip loosens and he falls to his knees, and Andy follows, trying to comfort the man he’d hurt as silent tears trail over his cheeks to get lost in his filthy beard.

Andy is and has always been a level-headed man, and now, as the hormones finally leached out of his body through his bare feet and pressed to the icy ground, he held his brother tightly.

Yet, even with all the suppressants in Curtis’s system, something inside of him surges. In the next second, his thick hands are circling around his brother’s throat.

“Curtis!!” Jake leapt at the two of them in the hopes of prying one man’s hands off the other man’s neck. He dug his nails into his brother’s wrists as he tried to pull them apart until finally one of the hands budged apart, and Jake was able to hand the other one off before pushing Curtis back.

Andy hadn’t lifted a finger to fight back; he only resigned himself to his well-deserved punishment before the younger man was able to free him.

Curtis was pushed back up onto his feet, and Andy sat there on his knees as they were still pressed into the snow.

Jake held him by his wide shoulders, trying to talk a little sense into his brother. “Don’t do something you’ll regret."

Curtis had to fight to catch his breath as he gritted his teeth. He looked out to Andy with a dimming bloom of rage before looking back at Jake and proclaiming, “I-I need some air,” before shaking his brother’s hands off of his shoulders and backing away.

Jake dropped down to pick Andy up off the ground before the ice could cut into his skin. “C’mon, get up.” He kept an eye out for Curtis as he watched him lumber out towards his truck.

Andy struggled to his feet as his youngest brother pulled him towards the cabin, dragging him through the open door before depositing him onto a chair in the kitchen to assess the terrible state Andy was left in.

“Wha-what the fuck happened?" Jake’s voice was almost shaking as he fought to keep his composure. “You look at absolute shit."

Andy gave a weak and coarse “I know."

“What were you thinking?" Jake racked his fingers through the dulled spikes in his frosted hair, hoping to shake off a building headache. It didn't take much to realize what had happened, especially while the combined scents were clouding the entire space around them.

Andy opened his mouth as if to speak, only to take a deep breath and ends it with a heavy sigh.

"You're still bonded, for fucks sake. This shouldn’t have affected you.” Jake truly couldn’t understand how his brother’s stonelike nerves broke so easily.

“There’s no bond left between Laurie and I.” The words from Andy’s cracked lips nearly punched the air out of Jake as they hit his ears.

Jake looked at Andy with a sick twist in his stomach before asking, “What do you mean?”

“She’s been wearing a new mark for almost half a year now.” Andy spoke with an unnerving little emotion as he opened a dark chapter of his life to his little brother.

“Oh fuck, I-I didn’t know."

“That’s because I didn’t tell you."

Jake huffed out with an air of frustration, “Good to see you can always call on your family for help.”

“It’s not like that. The divorce was already messy, and it was embarrassing enough.” “There just wasn’t a good time to talk about it. It definitely doesn’t feel like a good time to talk about it right now.

“Fair enough, I don’t even know how it came to this.”

“She must have broken into the cabin when her heat started to hit her. That’s how Curtis must have found her.”

“What, why?” Jake's eyes widened as they fixed back into Andy’s expressionless face.

“Her shit was in garbage bags; she was probably homeless.” Andy spoke so dryly that it almost gave his brother a stomach ache as he listened.

Jake winced at the thought that she must have stumbled upon the cabin, trying to get out of the snow, only to find herself caught in the teeth of not one but two alphas.

Andy got up from his chair before tossing open a nearby cupboard and rifling through the old bottles of medicine that sat inside.

“What are you doing?” Jake said as he looked up at his brother.

“Looking for some sleeping pills.” Andy spoke dryly as he continued rummaging around.

"What? Don’t take anything out of there. It all has to be expired by now.”

“I don’t care, Jake. I have to turn this off.”

“She’s buzzing around in the back of my head, and I can’t get it out.” Andy’s voice was low and broken as he pressed his wounded palm to his forehead to quell some of the building pain in his brain.

“This is insane.” Jake spoke more to the air than to his brother, but Andy answered anyway. “You don’t know what it’s like, so you wouldn’t understand.”

“Wouldn’t understand…I’m an Alpha too, and I haven’t lost my fucking mind.” Jake's blood began to simmer under his skin, making it feel like a slight itch along his neck and arms.

“It’s more than that!” Andy raised his voice at the younger Alpha. “I can feel her pain. Every throb and pulse in her body echoes in my head. I’m sure it did the same to Curtis, and it’s killing him right now.”

“I don’t know how to help you two anymore.” Jake couldn’t help the crack in his voice as he spoke while staring into the scratched grain of the table. “Not you, not Curtis. I can’t help anyone anymore.”

Andy finds the plastic bottle he had been looking for and rattles it by his ear. He dumped the contents into his hand to find there were only two pills left.

“You can still help Curtis.” Andy said as he rolled the pills between his fingers.

Jake looked up from the table before asking, “How?”

“You can put him to sleep. That way, she’ll only haunt his dreams.” Andy said as he eyed the two pills.

Jake twisted his head away from the sight of it. “I am not giving him old pills. It could make him sick. HELL, it could make you sick.”

“Then I will.” And with that, Andy walked out of the kitchen, leaving his younger brother behind to hang on to his last words. Andy made it past the front door and padded towards Curtis’ truck in his still-bare feet.

Curtis was already watching him from the window, and before Andy could make it all the way there, he pushed out of the truck and closed the gap between them himself.

He held the pill out wordlessly, leaving his brother to just stare at it.

“I already took suppressants.” Curtis regarded him as he stared down at the chalky wire pills.

“It’s not a suppressant.” Andy answered back.

“Then what is it?” Curtis spoke lowly, already exhausted but unable to find enough peace for sleep.

“It will make sleep easier.” Andy looked at his brother with actual sincerity. Something in these men had broken beyond repair, but together they were still connected, and they still cared for one another.

Curtis took the pill between his thumb and pointer finger, only to just look at the chunky tablet. He looked back at his brother, then the cabin, letting his vision cloud over with fresh tears. It made the bile well up in Andy’s throat before Curtis finally put the pill between his teeth.

He grabbed at an old bottle of water in the cup holder, still half full with now-stale water. He unscrewed the cap and took a chug from the bottle, sending the pill to the bottom of his stomach.

Curtis sat back in the truck, averting his eyes from Andy, as an air of silence widened the gap between them before Andy finally turned away from his brother and walked back to the house.

He glanced at Jake’s back as the younger man buried his face in his hands before walking past the kitchen towards one of the bedrooms. The master bedroom was to his right, and just further ahead was the old kid's room. You were still on the floor of the master bedroom, tucked up in a nest of blankets, and a souring look was spreading along your sleeping face.

Andy broke through the threshold before kneeling down next to you slowly. He arched his back and ducked his head towards you until his warm lips pressed against your forehead and your muscles seemed to relax.

It was the last he could do for you before standing back up and leaving you there on the floor. He did look back for a second and turn away from you again.

His pill was still tightly held in his fist until he brought it between two of his fingers. He opened his mouth, placed the chalky tablet on his tongue, and swallowed it back dry.

The rest of the night was quiet. Curtis resigned to sleeping in his truck; Andy took the old kids room, and you were still hidden in the master bedroom. Jake was left alone and awake as his brothers fought off odd dreams.

Jake was left slumped forward in the dining chair, his face having dropped into his hands as he tried to hold in his blooming sorrow. He fought it off hard, harder than he ever thought he’d have to. But, he couldn’t fight it anymore, and he finally broke.

Just like the small reprieve he allowed himself some months ago after he watched them close his father’s casket, he cried into his cupped hands and whimpered silently. He hadn’t bothered to take his glasses off, instead pushing them up his face with his fingers so as not to get them too dirty.

He didn’t know that this would have any affect on you, but as his scent twisted with grief, it didn’t fail to reach your room and make your body shutter awake. Something in your chest aches as your limbs twitch with a renewed liveliness. You're groggy but oddly more cognitive. You're floating on a thick cloud of heat as the still world around you moves in slow motion.

You feel over your neck, but don’t panic at the feeling of the two bites. Your mind still hasn’t returned. Your body can only be piloted by your inner omega, and she revels at the sting of each bite as you press your fingers into your skin.

The second bite didn’t leave and started to scab over a little like the first one did. Each one of them aches as you feel them over with the tips of your fingers. But, something was off, something in the air souring the semi-familiar scent you’d grown accustomed to.

You hear it too, his sorrow, his pain. It rings in your ears from the small noises of defeat that leave his lips. He just couldn’t stop himself from finally letting it all out.

You lean up from the nest of blankets and pillows you had wrapped yourself in on the floor of the master bedroom. You let the sheets fall from your bare body before grabbing a single blanket to drag with you. Better to seal in the warmth of your heat as it simmers lowly under your cold skin.

You follow the familiar path from the bedroom out into the den, and you turn your head towards the open kitchen and scent the air.

Yours gets more intense from the sight of your alpha in pain, making him shake as it permeates his mind without him realizing it. He would have assumed it was from the tears that flooded from his eyes as your impending presence stole the breath from his very lungs.

Yes, you. Lingering not far behind, your own heart cracked from the billowing scent of pain and anguish that clouded around what you perceived again as your alpha.

Your alpha was in pain. Emotional turmoil souring his otherwise sweet smell. It did seem sweeter than normal, but a heavy heart weighed it down.

You knew he needed your scent and your body to settle his mind. You were a good omega.

He hadn’t heard your footsteps, but as your hands found his shoulders, dragging your nails along his half-buttoned flannel. His body goes stiff as a small gasp escapes his throat. The rush of lavender and orange drops off your skin to cloud the air around him.

Your omega scent floods his nose and melts the hurt that had been burning the back of his throat. Your fingers slide along his neck to slip under his chin, bringing his head up to look at you for the first time.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He just sat stalk, still fighting for air as the heat of your hands burned through his skin.

The blanket slips away from your body as you circle his chair before bending towards him, pressing your lips against his tear-stained cheeks, and kissing them clean.

You slipped your lips further along his face before you moved them over his. It left him mezmorized, drowning in warm lavender and citrus.

His mind begins to melt from the hot assault of your tongue slipping over his, drowning him in your thick pheromones. It sets his body on fire, as if he’ll burn right through his clothes. It awakened something inside of him, something that rumbled beneath the surface of his skin and had once been completely dormant.

He didn’t notice your nimble fingers burrowing their way into his clothes and skillfully peeling them off of his chest and arms, just one button at a time. A whisper of the word “Alpha” left your tongue once you pulled it away from his lips.

The moment Jake heard it, his body went rigid once again. His muscles clenched and tightened as his mind became a buzz of emotion. But, you were there to help his Alpha meld with your Omega.

You wanted his tears to dry from the mere touch of your body and his worries to become distant memories.

You slip around his chair as the sweat builds along his neck and his pupils overtake his pale blue eyes.

He doesn’t stop you from seating yourself on his lap with your legs on either side of his, letting you press your warm skin along his face and neck, spreading your thick scent all over him. He doesn’t fight it when you drag your nail through the zipper of his jeans to dip your hand into his boxers and unsheathe his cock.

No, not until you're angling yourself above him, letting the head of his swollen cock catch along your folds until it breaches your slick warm opening. Only then did he finally stir, shaking the spell you’d put him under for just a second, and making him struggle beneath you.

“…’mega..s-stop.” His voice was weak as he tried to fight both you and an inner strength threatening to burst out of him the further your cunt sheathed his cock.

“Let me..help you…Alpha.” You breathed the words into his skin before dragging your teeth along his neck. It was the new trigger he needed to make him buck his hips up in unison with yours.

His hands finally dared to touch your skin, pressing his fingers painfully into the soft, round globes of your ass before dragging his nails along your thighs.

The slide of his cock along your tightening inner walls made him into a melted putty in your embrace. You took his pain and ate at it, using it as fuel for the fire in your belly to burn the both of you.

You nuzzled into his neck and shoulder as your hips raised and dropped with the pulls of his hands, leaving a slap of skin to run through the air. His thrusts met yours, building and building to surpass your own movements.

It’s like his body is moving upon the will of a much more wild spirit, propelling him to spear up into your core to tear through your body. Your body bends in his tight hold as you snake your fingers along the back of his head to press his face against your hot skin.

He didn’t have to be himself; he didn’t have to carry any burdens; he only had to be the Alpha right now. You, as his omega, would twist around him as your core fluttered and the tip of his cock stirred deeply within you.

Your mingled scents and sounds filled the small cabin, only to be shut out by the other two sleeping Alphas, who had been dragged down into their shared nightmare. All as you dragged the younger Alpha into your heat.

The solid mass of his building knot catches and tugs at the opening of your core as you slam your body down onto it until it’s forced deep inside with an almost literal pop. It was the first time for him all over again, and he was drowning. His arms were tight around you as his seed was pumped into your stretched core, and his nose left your hair as his teeth finally came down against your neck. His full teeth tore through your skin in a single second before licking his jaw over the wound as blood started to trickle down between you two.

His knot throbbed almost painfully as your omega cunt squeezed and throbbed around his cock. He’s panting, struggling to breathe through his teeth as the taste of thick iron floods over his tongue.

Tonight, you will be bitten for the last time, and as he pulls away, his vision is blurred with the sweet sight of your body. His glasses were pressed up over his eyes towards his forehead, leaving the sight of the blood dripping from your neck and down your chest as just a mess of red.

It was chaos in a cup on the verge of overflowing, but his cares seemed to fade as his senses shut down. He was fully drained by you, but you left him with a renewed sense of bliss that finally let him find a restful sleep once you’d helped him out of the chair to lay out on the cool floor.

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[obsolescent]

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Choose which work you would like to see next!

I’ll be posting the summaries for stories I have and you’ll get to pick the one you would like to see the most first!

I currently have 10 works that you’ll get a sneak preview for and they’ll be a poll posted where you can vote!

Two of these are continuations of current works I have done but have not finished.

Poll Closed!

Thank y’all again,

O ♡

Call of Duty

To Mend

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Reader

Summary: Working on base as a cobbler/tailor repairing items for the soldiers, one lieutenant visits you for a minor fix and can’t keep his eyes off you. Your nimble fingers, as they mend his belongings and maybe one day, himself. 

—

The Countenance Of A Friend

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!Reader

Summary: Simon is urged by his doctor to attend group therapy, seeing if it’ll be more beneficial than one-on-one sessions. He signs up for one and that’s where he meets you. It turns out that having a friend who can understand and relate to something so personal makes him realize he isn’t alone.

Resident Evil

All Around Me

Pairing: Vampire!Jill Valentine x GN!Reader

Summary: Working nights at a gas station has its perks, little foot traffic and relatively quiet. Not to mention one of your favorite regulars frequents during this time. There’s something about her that’s so alluring, you can’t look at her for long. A feeling burning like fire, coursing through you whenever she’s around. During this time of year the days are getting shorter, becoming chillier, leaves starting to fall. Something is in the air, stirring within you. You never feel alone nowadays, once a comforting feeling has now put you on constant edge. A presence is always lurking around the corner, right out of reach. Even if you wanted to fight it, could you? Or were you destined for its pages, years in the making, the story needing you to reach its conclusion.

—

Looking For That Blessed Hope

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: Meeting in college through your choir classes, Leon’s at college and the academy part time. He graduates at the top of his class and is offered a job in Raccoon City. You two had become good friends and left off on a tear-filled goodbye. You don’t see him again until years later during another outbreak. Having heard of the incident in RC, you thought he had died. He comes to your aid and you both have to make your way out of the infected streets and to safety. 

—

Breaking The Ice

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: Working at a bookstore, a kind stranger comes in and asks for your help each time, eventually working up the courage to ask you on a date. Agreeing, you two have dinner where you find out exactly what he does for work, with an offered demonstration.

—

The Affliction of Our Peace

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: Leon and you are neighbors, you two helping each other out when you can. Him retrieving your mail when he’s home and you cook him dinner when he gets back from missions. He notices your deteriorating health and things come to a head when he overhears a conversation with your insurance company, refusing to no longer pay for one of your medications. Leon offers a solution, one that would be convenient for the both of you.

—

Southern Charm

Pairing: Ethan Winters x GN!Reader

Summary: You begin working at a new company, meeting the coworker you’ll work with the most. He’s attracted to your southern charm and can’t help the feelings that rise. From the accent to the way you move, it captivates him. How much longer can he stay quiet about the blossoming infatuation he has for you?

—

Through Patience and Comfort

Pairing: Alexander Kozachenko x GN!Reader

Summary: Recently graduated with a Masters degree in Education, you have already been teaching for a couple years when you decide to branch out, applying for a chance to teach abroad. Applying to teach English to Speakers of Other Languages (TESOL), your application is accepted by the Eastern Slav Republic, where you’ll be a teacher’s assistant for the time being until learning the ropes and the language at your new school, under Alexander Kozachenko.

—

All Are of The Dust Part Two | Ending One

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x GN!Reader

Summary: What if your answer was no?

“Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY, saith the Lord. –Romans 12:19

—

Tongue Tied Part 2

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: The events that happen after your date with Leon.

[allie-campbell-bradshaw]

Prologue

A/N: Welcome to the first post for Top Gun: Baby, a love story following Bradley Bradshaw and Allie Campbell. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do! I will mention this in my notes before every chapter, but I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post. Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Angst from a hard childhood, mentions of death, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of PTSD related to war, mentions of cancer, mentions of physically hurting someone

Masterlist for Top Gun: Baby

Prologue

BRADLEY’S POV

This was it. This letter in my hands would determine my fate. I wish I could say that my four years at Virginia flew by, but they didn’t. Everything dragged. And while I was walking across the stage last week accepting my degree, shaking hands with people who didn’t even know me, I couldn’t help but think about how different my life would have been if he didn’t get in my way.

I applied to the Naval Academy when I was a senior in high school. I sent in my application exactly 2 weeks before my mom died. No one knew when it was going to happen, but we all felt that her death was closer than we would have preferred. I sat next to her in her room at the hospice center as I filled out all the paperwork, reading my admissions essay out loud so she could hear me talk about my father, and her, and my fathers father who died when I was 5. All three of them were dealt the worst deck in life, creating challenges that I had to overcome during my childhood. My dad’s death when I was two left me with no recollections of our time together, which created its own set of drawbacks as I grew up. My grandpa died two years later from alcohol poisoning. The pain of recently losing his son while also suffering from PTSD from the Vietnam War became too hard for him to bear, which caused him to rely on alcohol to make it through the day. I remember watching him deteriorate. For a kindergartener, I had enough of a mental capacity to understand what death was, and knew, without having to ask anyone for confirmation, that he was about to experience it. Then there came my mom, whose cancer diagnosis left us without words. Suddenly we had to adapt to a rapidly growing illness that was destined to make me an orphan. I went from a child to a caregiver within 24 hours.

I watched as tears flowed from her eyes, the illness had taken over so much by then that she only had a few hours of energy to give during the day before she would pass out. After I read it to her, she asked to talk to Maverick, who was waiting out in the hall. He always made sure to let us have our time before coming in and joining the conversation. I read through my application again out in the hall while they talked. When Pete came out of the room, there was something different about him. He carried himself at a more awkward angle, his smile didn’t seem as real as it did earlier that morning. My mom, who was now sound asleep, seemed to be in less pain than she was when I was reading to her, there was a part of her that actually looked peaceful for the first time in months. Mav walked with me, a hand held firmly on my shoulder, as we made our way to the post office, sealing the application packet and sending it to its destination in Annapolis. 

I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

The combination of my mothers death and the admission that I was not accepted led me down a crippling road of self-doubt and depression. Someone in my neighborhood already got his acceptance letter, which brought me to that realization that it was not going to happen for me. Although I didn’t want to admit it, it became harder and harder to ignore as the days went on. It took almost two months of sulking before Pete told me what he had done, not wanting to witness my sorrow any longer.

I never hated anyone more than at that very moment. Never in my life have I thought about being violent, but I wanted to beat him. I wanted to pound him until my knuckles broke. Until he was no longer conscious. Until I saw him as broken down, physically, as he just made me feel mentally.

That was the last day I saw him. The last day I cared about him. He knew how important the Naval Academy was to me…to my father…and his father… and his father before him. The Naval Academy was a legacy that he took away from me, away from my family. I applied to the academy every year after that as I attended the University of Virginia, and every year I never heard back. I knew he kept pulling my papers, but I never gave up. I wanted to show him my determination. To show him that I was not happy with the life he forced me to live. He was slowly shredding my heart into pieces, and he didn’t care. Finally, after five years of applying, I had a response. I prepared myself for the worst case scenario, a rejection letter, which any sane person would assume was what I was holding in my hand. There was a part of me that hoped though, hoped that it was the one thing I wanted. I would give anything for it to be that.

This letter, this unopened letter, would be the final decision for if my life would turn out the way I had always envisioned. This was the last year I could apply to the academy, since I would be 24 by next summer. If this letter was a rejection, I would need to reconsider my desire for a career in naval aviation. I was unwilling to go through the Navy any other way. 3 generations of Bradshaw’s had gone through the academy, and I would be damned if I broke that tradition. I would be too embarrassed to even try. I wouldn’t enlist. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t feel right to me. If I am to be a pilot, this is the way I want to go. 

I turned over the envelope and dug my thumb into the corner of the slit. Slowly, but with great force, I tore the paste from the paper, opening the folds and pulling out the letter. I saw the faintest of black print folded in on the paper through the light of my dining room, my heart was pounding and my face turning a deep red. My palms were glistening with sweat as I peeled back the two folds that cut the paper into exact thirds before flipping it over to reveal its contents. I saw my full name printed out on the front: “Bradley David Bradshaw” followed by “we are pleased to inform you”...

[mishwanders]

Chapter Twenty [Wesker]: God Complex

Pairing: RE5 Albert Wesker x GN!Cannibal Reader

Summary: Uroboros is now in its final stages. Wesker takes some time to reflect on what’s important to him in life.

Warnings: Smut again. Minors DNI. eugenics-y type of bs, injections, viruses. Slight SA/Harassment - Excella slides her hand up Wesker thigh in an attempt to flirt and it does not go further than that.

The Devil’s Teeth

Read on AO3 [ X ]

Wesker sat in his office, pouring over his research, checking each and every detail, making sure that everything was absolutely perfect up until this point. The Uroboros was now in its final stages, and in order to keep any mention of its research from getting out, cuts had to be made. Excella and Irving had done a wonderful job in expediting these “cuts”, by use of Las Plagas. Now only a select few knew anything about it - himself, Excella, Irving, Jill, and you.

This was going to work, this plan of his. He was going to bring about a change, one that the world needed. Humans berated each other, caused wars, schemed against themselves. They were a broken system of people, and someone needed to take up the reins to lead them to a life of glory, a utopia.

It had to be done - it could be done. With Uroboros? He had the right, the means to do so.

So what if it were a dead man's dream?

As much as Wesker absolutely despised Spencer, hated everything the man stood for in the end, he was onto something when it came to the progenitor virus, the endless possibilities it could have. It was worth taking a chance, it was worth the shot.

A shot he couldn’t get out of his mind.

He found himself growing irritable, many sleepless nights in the lab keeping himself busy and away from the nightmares that awaited him.

The Uroboros were messing with him, with his mind, he knew that much. It was an odd sensation, being in control, while not being in total control. He was beginning to understand what you felt with the T and G virus concoction that lived in your body, how much more difficult it was to keep every annoying urge down. His body constantly felt like it was on edge, like the Uroboros under the surface was ready to make its escape at any moment. It was a good thing he was of sound mind, without the deterioration of his mental health like Oswell had endured in his last days or else he wouldn’t have had the mental willpower to control it the way he did.

But it still leaked into his dreams, showing the god he could be, crushing those he and it had deemed necessary with a strong right hand. Sadly, he found you in those dreams constantly, crushed under the weight of his hand too.

It’s why he didn’t want to sleep, not unless you had seemingly done so after some rigorous activities.

As much as his mind was being played with, the Uroboros showed him visions of a future if you didn’t take to it, it still had a pull to you, a craving, a desperate need to have you. In part he wondered if you were truly the one destined to be with it, not him.

A mistake on Spencer’s part, but not on his.

But Wesker knew your feelings, and out of everyone in the world, you were not the one he wanted to force to take to it. He knew that day would one day come, but he wanted it to be on your own terms, he didn’t want you to go through the same experience as you had in the Arklay lab. You had been with him through so much, you had your trust in him, and that wasn’t something he was going to be so willing to break, not even for Uroboros.

So he would deal with the nightmares as they came, handle them with care when he had the energy to do so.

A knock was heard at the repaired door and Wesker looked at the monitors, seeing Excella standing outside the room with a metal briefcase. He allowed her in and she came through, pulling up a stool beside him, preparing him for his injections. Wesker had grown so busy with the research that he found himself almost forgetting about them, the effects of his body being in constant flux, so he put the her in charge of it.

“So, why did you ask me to do this instead of your little pet?” She asked, taking his arm and turning it over, looking for a vein.

Why didn’t he ask you? Well for starters, you didn’t enjoy any bit of this process - you had a disdain for needles, but two - he had you working alongside Irving, keeping the reins on Jill, watching how she did with the P30 attached, her development crucial for his research on the added control via the progenitor, and he only trusted you to do so with that one.

“They’re busy with other projects I’ve put them over. Besides, I thought you would appreciate having the honors of doing this.” He stated

Excella gave him a sly grin.

“I do like having this honor, at least I’m a step above the dogs.” She replied, uncapping the syringe and holding up to his skin.

He stared her down at the mention of dogs, knowing she was referring to you and Jill. He knew the woman considered herself superior over you both, considering her position for Tricell. He waited for her to inject the virus into him and remove the needle before speaking.

“Everyone has their place, their part they have to play, even the ‘dogs’.”

Excella leaned forward towards him, placing her hand gently on his thigh. Wesker didn’t make any moves towards her, he just continued to stare at her, waiting to see where she was going to go with this.

“And what other parts could I play with you, hm?” She asked, her hand slowly sliding higher up his thigh. “I have a few more parts I think I’d be useful for, don’t you think?”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.” He stated

Her hand stopped, but it stayed in its place.

“And why not?” She asked

Wesker leaned in closer to her, making sure she could see his eyes over his sunglasses.

“Because this is still my project. You are a partner in this endeavor. I will not allow you to put yourself in a place that would compromise that, because I still need you.” He said, eyes glowing slightly as he spoke.

His words seemed to have taken her off guard, pleased her even. She finally removed her hand from his thigh, giving him a warm smile.

“I didn’t expect you to care that much.” She stated

“I care that this endeavor is seen through to the end and I need you there at my side when it is, is that clear?”

Excella smiled at him, much bigger, more approving of his words.

“Crystal clear.”

“Good. Now get out.”

Excella left without another word to him, the door closing behind her. Wesker then removed his sunglasses, rubbing the space between his brow. Great, this is exactly what he fucking needed to happen right now. He knew his words would only keep her away for so long, keep whatever she thought they had together at bay. He honestly didn’t want to think about it. She would get what she wanted soon, the power she craved, but he would not be in that picture - he didn’t want her, he did not crave her in the ways that she desired him.

He wanted you.

Wesker turned his attention back to the monitors, finding you on the screen. You were bent over a table, looking at a map along with Irving, most likely determining a new location to set Las Plagas into motion, a way to keep the B.S.A.A. busy in the meantime. Wesker spoke through the coms, requesting you to make your way up to the lab. He noticed your look of concern in the camera, but you moved nonetheless to the lab. When you finally arrived he looked over at you, a warm smile on his face. He could still see the look of concern on yours, your eyebrow raised.

“What did you need?” You asked, “You hardly ever call me like this.”

He chuckled, “I just wanted to see you in person.”

Now he watched how your expression changed, from concern to gentle warmth, and then to a sudden realization.

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

He nodded, holding out his hand to you. You walked over to him and he pulled you even closer, up into his lap. You wrapped your arms around him, holding his head close to your chest. He sighed as he listened to the sound of your heartbeat, the feeling of your hands running down the back of his hair. There was no one else’s arms he would rather be in than yours.

“You know, I don’t mind taking care of whatever problem you just had. Just say the word and they won’t be found.”

He chuckled at your offer to off Excella, highly considering it, but he knew now was not the time for it.

“Thank you for the offer, dearheart, but it’ll be fine for now. I may take you up on that offer on a later date though, considering how this plan will play out.”

“Like I said, just say the word.” You said again, kissing the top of his head.

“Thank you.” he whispered.

You pulled away from him, a gentle smile on your face before you turned your attention to the screen in front of both of you. He pulled your legs up completely into his lap as you rested against his chest, hand on his shoulders. You looked back at him having seemed pleased with what you were able to make out on the screen.

“So, this project is almost complete then?” You asked

He nodded.

“Working out a few more of the kinks, tying up the loose ends. But it will be ready soon, rest assured.”

You kept quiet, nodding in response as well.

“Good.”

He reached for your cheek, caressing it, taking in all of your features in the low blue light, the way the shadows danced over your face. You held onto his bare wrist, melting into his hand. He smiled at you, happy with the reciprocation of a tender touch. He was truly happy to have you by his side in all of this. Truly he didn’t know how he got so lucky, how breaking you out of the Arklay would turn into this. But he was grateful for every moment he had gotten with you.

Wesker leaned into you, pressing his lips against yours. You kissed him back, your hand leaving his arm, wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. His hand on your cheek moved down to your back, keeping you just as close. His tongue delved past your lips, exploring you, and you hummed happily into it. He pulled away for a second, looking into your eyes.

“Do you have a moment or is Irving waiting for you to return?” He asked

You smiled up at him, a mischievous grin.

“He can wait, trust me.”

He peered down at you, his eyes glowing as a flirtatious smirk played at his lips.

“Good.”

The two of you were back at it quickly then, hands exploring the other, lips locked onto the other in a heated, passionate kiss. Your hands were already going for his belt, and he chuckled at you, realizing just how badly you wanted him, how badly you craved him. You were the one person he wasn’t going to stop at this moment, because he wanted you just as badly. His own hands were tugging away at your clothes, being careful not to rip them. Once you both were able to get away the amount of clothing that needed to be removed, you straddled over his lap in the chair, using the arm rests to lower yourself down onto him. He watched as your head rolled back, a moan leaving you as stretched out around him. He felt a sigh of relief leave him as he felt you take him in, so warm and inviting, your body always felt like heaven to him.

The only place a god like him wanted to be.

He placed his hands around your waist, keeping you in place as you held onto the arm rests, using them to lift yourself as he helped in that endeavor, the weight of gravity helping you slam back down, taking him in entirely once more. A groan of pleasure left his lips as he watched you, helping you gain pleasure in your endeavors. You both were chasing after it with one another, desperate for a release. You had grown too quick in your movement, finding yourself losing control, about the fall backwards. He wrapped his arms around you, but in that moment, the Uroboros broke past the barrier, on his command this time, catching you from falling completely.

Wesker chuckled as he leaned over you, his eyes glowing hungrily.

“Got too carried away there?”

“Nice catch.” You replied, breathlessly.

He pulled you back onto his lap. He had an idea, one that he knew you might enjoy a bit better. He pulled you closer to his face, allowing you to rest your forehead on him. Wesker’s eyes peering into yours as the Uroboros began to work its way around your thighs, making its way closer and closer to your hole. It picked you up, just enough to where only the tip of him was in, letting you drop back down, taking all of him, and sliding in along with him, stretching you as far as it could. Wesker felt your nails digging into him, the moan that erupted from you reverberating on his neck as you attempted to muffle it. His hands found their place on your ass, helping out the Uroboros’ in picking you back up again, roughly fucking you from below.

“Oh fuck ~”

“You’re taking this so well, dearheart. Such a good pet.” He praised through a grunt, continuing to slam you back down onto his cock, enjoying the sensations surrounding him.

Wesker allowed for himself to not think of anything else for a change, only on the pleasure that you were both deriving off of each other, together, allowing the urges to pull him closer and closer to you, his lips taking yours in hungrily. He was so needy for you, he craved you, his body begged for you even when it had you. He truly couldn’t contain it all within him, it was spilling out over the edges, completely, wholly, irrevocably yours.

He was a god who knew how to lay with the devil, how to revel in the pleasures.

And fuck did he revel in it, in you, his devil.

The way you and the Uroboros were working on him was sending him over the edge and he knew it was having the same effects on you. It didn’t take much longer before you both came with each other, trying not to end the other with the strength of it. But the look in your eyes, that pure adoration, pulled at him in a way he couldn’t describe.

He was yours, and you were his.

The Uroboros loosened its hold on you, whipping up before finally disappearing in his skin again. You slid off of his cock, off of his lap, stumbling back to the edge of the desk. The two of you redressed, recomposing yourselves from the spur of the moment affair. You leaned back down towards him, pulling his lips back in for another kiss before pulling away and looking at him with a smile.

“I’ve got to go now, but I wouldn’t mind going for round two later.” You stated, “Only if you’re up for it.”

He smiled up at you.

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Chapter Nineteen: Chokehold

Chapter Twenty One: Body and Blood

[rockislandadultreads]

Real Life Monsters: Mystery Thriller Book Recs

Last Seen Alive by Joanna Schaffhausen

Boston detective Ellery Hathaway met FBI agent Reed Markham when he pried open a serial killer’s closet to rescue her. Years on, their relationship remains defined by that moment and by Francis Coben’s horrific crimes. To free herself from Coben’s legacy, Ellery had to walk away from Reed, too. But Coben is not letting go so easily. He has an impossible proposition: Coben will finally give up the location of the remaining bodies, on one condition—Reed must bring him Ellery. Now the families of the missing victims are crying out for justice that only Ellery can deliver. The media hungers for a sequel and Coben is their camera-ready star. He claims he is sorry and wants to make amends. But Ellery is the one living person who has seen the monster behind the mask and she doesn’t believe he can be redeemed. Not after everything he’s done. Not after what she’s been through. And certainly not after a fresh body turns up with Coben’s signature all over it.

This Might Hurt by Stephanie Wrobel

Welcome to Wisewood. We'll keep your secrets if you keep ours. Natalie Collins hasn't heard from her sister in more than half a year. The last time they spoke, Kit was slogging from mundane workdays to obligatory happy hours to crying in the shower about their dead mother. She told Natalie she was sure there was something more out there. And then she found Wisewood. On a private island off the coast of Maine, Wisewood's guests commit to six-month stays. During this time, they're prohibited from contact with the rest of the world--no Internet, no phones, no exceptions. But the rules are for a good reason: to keep guests focused on achieving true fearlessness so they can become their Maximized Selves. Natalie thinks it's a bad idea, but Kit has had enough of her sister's cynicism and voluntarily disappears off the grid. Six months later Natalie receives a menacing e-mail from a Wisewood account threatening to reveal the secret she's been keeping from Kit. Panicked, Natalie hurries north to come clean to her sister and bring her home. But she's about to learn that Wisewood won't let either of them go without a fight.

Jawbone by Mónica Ojeda, Sarah Booker (Translator)

Fernanda and Annelise are so close they are practically sisters: a double image, inseparable. So how does Fernanda end up bound on the floor of a deserted cabin, held hostage by one of her teachers and estranged from Annelise? When Fernanda, Annelise, and their friends from the Delta Bilingual Academy convene after school, Annelise leads them in thrilling but increasingly dangerous rituals to a rhinestoned, Dior-scented, drag-queen god of her own invention. Even more perilous is the secret Annelise and Fernanda share, rooted in a dare in which violence meets love. Meanwhile, their literature teacher Miss Clara, who is obsessed with imitating her dead mother, struggles to preserve her deteriorating sanity. Each day she edges nearer to a total break with reality. Interweaving pop culture references and horror concepts drawn from from Herman Melville, H.P. Lovecraft, and anonymous 'creepypastas', Jawbone is an ominous, multivocal novel that explores the terror inherent in the pure potentiality of adolescence and the fine line between desire and fear.

Survive the Night by Riley Sager

Charlie Jordan is being driven across the country by a serial killer. Maybe. Behind the wheel is Josh Baxter, a stranger Charlie met by the college ride share board, who also has a good reason for leaving university in the middle of term. On the road they share their stories, carefully avoiding the subject dominating the news - the Campus Killer, who's tied up and stabbed three students in the span of a year, has just struck again. Travelling the lengthy journey between university and their final destination, Charlie begins to notice discrepancies in Josh's story. As she begins to plan her escape from the man she is becoming certain is the killer, she starts to suspect that Josh knows exactly what she's thinking. Meaning that she could very well end up as his next victim.

[especdreamy]

For the ask game, 8?

8. any reacquiring dreams?

OHHHH this is gonna get a lil' long! I have two specific dreams that I'd love to talk about!!!!

One of the MOST interesting reocurring dreams i had is one that only repeated once. Back when I was around 8 years old, I had a dream where I walked through a path surrounded by birch trees in fall. The sun and leaves just giving an overall gold-like color to the scenery.

And at the end of that path was a little cabin, mismatched planks of many different colors on it. It looked silly and beautiful, a lady with ginger hair opened the door and greeted me along with a boy my age.

It felt like I spent the whole evening at that house. I think in the backyard there were some mythical creatures like unicorns or something, I played with the boy and the woman would give us snacks and tea and sweets and it was enjoyable. Then as the sunset started to come I said my goodbyes and left the house, going back "home" through the same path I arrived from and I woke up.

I am 90% sure I forgot about that dream cuz, well I didn't think much of it i guess? But the catch (and the reason why that dream stuck out to me so much) was 10 years later, when I had already turned 18.

And I was back in that path, with golden leaves on birch trees as I walked down towards the house, which looked much older. Much more deteriorated.

The same lady greeted me, this time with wrinkles and white hair. The boy had grown up into an adult my age too, being considerably taller than me.

And they'd tell me how long they've waited for me to return, I'd spend the evening eating with them, catching up i guess? the Lady tells me that they're facing issues. That someone wants to build a road along the backyard and that means that they'd have to displace the unicorns and other mythical animals.

I think I tried to fight back against that, I don't remember well. I know I rode a pegasus while fighting against the Evil Road Maker or something.

But I remember how I woke up and just. felt stunned. because I had forgotten I had that dream before, yknow? but now I remembered. I rsmembered the woman with ginger hair and her cookies and the boy and how they had all grown up now.

I think that dream had some sort of meaning to it, specially considering how time passed. they both got older. Not sure how common that is for reocurring dreams.

The other one that deserves mention is more messy to explain.

I was walking down a path in a prairie, and there were small rustic huts placed to the sides? there were also some houses that could be best described as hobbit holes.

I went inside one of them, met an old lady who raised chickens inside the hobbit hole. Then she like. placed me on a cannon. or something. Or let me ride a pokemon (It was a sylveon. I remember it happened close to pokemon XY release) but basically soon enough I was riding a sylveon in the sky.

And I was floating around for what felt like hours, watching the very faraway land change in shapes and colors when it shifted from just farmland to forests and wilderness.

And then, near the end, I found a forest. But not a normal forest. It was HUGE. HUGE TREES that reached the clouds. Incredibly detailed metallic arches that were filled with gigantic wisteria flowers. The foliage of the trees had colorful leaves that ranged from blueish purple to a peachy orange. you could basically have multiple floors within the canopy due to the sheer size of these trees.

Needless to say, it was epic and gorgeous. And then I woke up.

And I'd sometimes have a similar dream, I'd be at the start in that path with the huts and the hobbit holes. the woman with the chickens. the sylveon. I'd ride it in search of that forest. And I'd spend hours and hours and I'd wake up without reaching that destination.

Early during last year though, something changed? And I had reached it. Or something. My memory is blurry. But I think I found a book, and read it, and inside said book it described this exact same forest by NAME. I don't remember the name, but it started with C? I think?

It described how to find it. And in that dream I was able to see the forest again.

Honorable mention is that time when I was like 6 years old and I had a dream I was playing a dora the explorer metroidvania video game, there were lots of traps and enemies and whenever I died to them I'd wake up. Slowly over time and several dreams during the course of months I could learn from my mistakes and progress inside this game until I reached the final boss. After a couple of dreams trying to confront it (and dying) I finally would defeat it and thus finish the game. I never had that dream again.

[feliix]

Perfect Score ↠ Han Jisung

↠ Jisung x Reader (feat. Felix)

↠ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Fake Dating!AU, Childhood Friends to Lovers

↠ Rating: M (18+)

↠ Word Count: 14.9k

↠ Summary: As you return home to work at your local coffee shop, you’re swarmed with couples coming in on lovey-dovey on dates. You’ve always hated the idea of love, but it’s Jisung’s mission to make you change your mind in just two weeks time.

↠ Warnings: idiots 2 lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, fingering, soft sex, language, light mentions of marking, mentions of bad past relationships

“That's disgusting.”

You grimace in the most subtle way as you watch the man across the shop press a gentle kiss on the cheek of the woman next to him. For some reason your shop is packed with couples this evening. Not that you’ve been counting, but they’re probably the 50th overly lovey-dovey pair that you’ve seen this just this shift alone. 

To say ‘love’ isn’t really your thing isn’t too far from the truth. Every time you’ve been burned by someone in the past has only made your hope about love deteriorate. Relationships suck. Already been there, done that, and you don’t plan on doing it again.

You’ve always stuck by the same theory; relationships either lead to heartbreak or marriage. And even still, marriage may still end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?

“Stop being so dramatic,” Jisung laughs, pulling you out of your thoughts as he rounds the corner. He’s just in time to catch your snide remark, surely it won’t be the last one you’ll make tonight though. He had just run to the back to get you a fresh package of cups after using up all the stock in the front.

Tonight is busy to say the least. The sun has already set, and it’s the afternoon rush when everyone comes in for their second daily dose of caffeine. And it’s definitely necessary – especially on a day as hot and exhausting as this one. It’s the third day that its been over 100º in a row and the humidity is doing a real number to your hair.

“It’s not dramatic,” you sigh, leaning on the counter behind you as Jisung maneuvers around you, placing the cups on the shelf underneath. In your mind it absolutely isnt. Its a mystery why all these people need to publicly display their affection in a coffee shop anyway...

It’s just the two of you on the schedule tonight. Your boss has always been kind of an asshole, just leaving 2 kids in their early twenties to run the shop by themselves while he went off to do god knows what. There's always been an aching suspicion that he just goes to the bar across the street, since his car is still parked behind the shop but he’s always nowhere to be found. That’s okay though, it's better than him looming over your shoulder and criticizing your technique the whole shift.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Jisung shakes his head.

In stark contrast to yourself, Han Jisung is quite the hopeless romantic. So much so that he tends to search for love in all the wrong places. Maybe a better way to describe it is that Jisung has a series of flings. He’s not shy to test the waters of any girl he comes across – and there are many, many waters that he’s tested. Lucky you gets to hear all about each one, being his friend and all.

But to your good friend’s demise, his ‘relationships’ never end up working out for very long. Theres always some kind of fatal flaw that’s a means to an end. Whether it was Jisung’s fault or the girls,  it’s always confused you why he could never hold onto something longer than a couple months. Jisung is a great guy, it didn’t make sense.

So great that you have been best friends with him for as long as you could remember. It all started that time in pre-k, where you poured a shovel of sand on his head in the sandbox. Initially, it did make him cry, but he got over it eventually. Ever since, he’s been right by your side, sandy hair and all.

“How much longer,” your eyes roll back in your head, neglecting to look at the watch on your wrist in fear that your shift has a significant amount of time left. The night has been dragging on since you stepped foot in the door and heard the little jingle as it opened. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d only made it through half your shift thus far.

“Just under an hour. Want to start the closing checklist so we can get outta here?” Jisung offers, reaching for the rag and sanitation bucket at the end of the counter.

Nodding your head, you follow his plan – beginning your mission to clean like a speed demon so you can leave no later than at 8 o’clock on the dot. 

Luckily, closing tonight goes as smoothly as it possibly can. You and Jisung are ready to get out of there at 8 on the dot, thanks to your determination to mop like a mad woman and stock the front as fast as humanly possible. 

The air outside feels crisper than usual. Maybe its because you’ve been locked up in a small room that smells like coffee beans for 10 hours, but you’ll never get enough of the night air. 

“So what are we doing tonight?”Jisung asks, his fingers adjusting the headband that sits just above his forehead.

“I was planning on going home and getting some rest…” you trail off, avoiding eye contact with him. Jisung always goes out after your weekend shifts and never lets up on convincing you to tag along. So you can’t look at him, his eyes are much too convincing make contact with, and you are beyond exhausted from working a double today.

“Gah you’re so boring,” he teases, stopping in his tracks in the center of the parking lot to ruffle the hair on top of your head, “it was an early night we should do something.”

With a deep sigh, you stop as well, smoothing down your hair as a pout forms on your lips. The suggestive smirk settling across Jisung’s face is telling; he knows he’s about to get his way before you have the chance to turn him down or fish for another excuse. So you tilt your head, subtly rolling your eyes as you wait for him to explain what his big plans for tonight are.

“I’ll be at your house by 9.”

Accepting defeat, you shoot him a thumbs up before turning to get into your car. Asking any more questions would take away any time you had to wash up – and smelling like coffee beans any longer is going to drive you up a wall since it hasn't already.

It doesn’t take much time for you to rush home and get ready, and before you know it Jisung is there to pick you up. Only a few minutes late, but that’s just par for the course and right on time in Jisung terms. 

The car ride to your destination feels like a blur with how exhausted you are. So when you end up at your favorite boba spot, you immediately perk up. Those tapioca pearls always manage to give you a second wind.

But when Jisung decides to take a seat at one of the round tables just outside the shop instead of getting back in the car you know somethings up. You were expecting to hop back in the passenger seat of his car, maybe listen to some music for a while and drive around to kill time. 

Initially he doesn’t say much. His legs just bounce hyperactively while he fidgits with the straw of his drink. It’s almost like he’s waiting for you to speak up; his eyes staring down at the cup in front of him instead of sipping from it, lip caught between his teeth.

The energy is off. Not only did you expect to hang out and do something adventurous like Jisung normally would, but now you’re watching his cheeks grow red while avoiding conversation.

Awkward silence becoming too much to bear, you take matters into your own hands. “So how are things going with that girl?”

“Oh yeah,” he sighs, his fingertips drumming along the surface of the table, “she didn’t really work out.”

Unsurprised by his response, you just nod along. Its always to expect since he’s the pickiest person you’ve ever met. His last relationship ended because he thought the girl breathed too loudly. The girl before that had an annoying laugh, and then the one before that didn’t like cheesecake. There always seems to be a laundry list of deal-breakers tied along to each one of Jisung’s relationships, and that is something you’ll always expect.

“You’re probably better off.”

You don’t think much of the words before they leave your lips. Relationships are a ton of work, and you’ve never understood the point of to putting all your effort into something like that. There is a way to just be happy on your own, you know.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” his eyebrows furrowing in response, hands gripping his thighs in anticipation

“You know what I think,” you tilt your heat matter-of-factly, “relationships are kind of just a waste of time.”

“What is with you and all this ‘anti-love’ stuff anyway, Y/N?”

Now thats a response that you are not prepared for. The question catches you off guard, a boba bubble almost catching in your throat leaving you a coughing mess. Jisung chuckles at your discomfort, waiting patiently for you to get it all out and just answer his question, as uncomfortable as it is. 

“I’ve wasted too much time with too many dead-beat guys to even think about love,” you sigh again, your coughing fit subsiding as you reach for your cup once again.

“Not every guy is a dead-beat.”

His words carry a harsh bite to them, almost as if he finds you’ve said offensive. It burns his ego a bit, assuming that you’re grouping him in with all the guys you’ve been with in the past. Which is strange, Jisung should know that he’s different. For one, you’ve never dated him before and two, if he was such a dead-beat you wouldn’t have kept him around for so long.

You aren’t able to talk to guys, or most people for that matter, in the same way that you talk to Jisung. He’s the one you rant about all the assholes to. He knows all the shit that you don’t tell anyone else, he’s like your own personal human diary. Secrets are always safe with him, it's not like he has anyone who would listen to the gossip even if he wanted to tell.

After a minute of silence his expression changes, Jisung’s eyes squinting at you in that ‘I have a crazy idea’ type of way. It’s a look that you haven’t seen very often, and you can’t say that you’ll ever get used to it. 

“Okay then I’ll make you a deal,” he proposes, a glimmering look in his eye that made you somewhat nervous. You never know what you are getting with Jisung, but most of the time his ‘deals’ are on the crazier side.

“What is it?” You still ask although you’re a bit nervous to hear his answer. If his plan is to set you up with one of his delinquent friends or something–

“Be my girlfriend.”

Your eyes widen as the words fall from his tongue, confusion taking over your expression as a small chuckle slips past his lips. Instinctively your stomach tightens, the air around you now feeling a bit heaver each second time ticks on. He can't be serious…

“Your what?”

“Two weeks is all I’m asking for. Be my girlfriend for just two weeks, and I’ll show you that love isn’t as shitty as you think it is.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me” you shake your head, a disbelieving smile stretching wide across your face.

“C’mon Y/N,” he challenges, “it’s two weeks of your life, what else do you have to do? I think it could be fun.”

The quirk of his eyebrow and quick squint of his eyes grabs your attention. He’s serious about this, scarily serious, and you aren’t quite sure how to react to that.

“What’s in it for you?” Your chin falls into your palm as you stare at him, waiting for his response.

“Well for one,” he starts, a sigh leaving his lips, “if it works then I won’t have to listen to you complain about how much relationships suck anymore.”

Just when you don't think you can roll your eyes any further into the back of your head, your own actions surprise you. If looks could kill, the one you’re giving him right now would surely take him out. He doesn’t pay much mind to it though, he’s used to your sass and just shrugs it off.

“This is an awful idea,” you glare at him as if it will change his mind. You’re certain this experiment of his would not change your own. Love sucked, and that was that.

“Two weeks,” his voice carries a taunting tone, his eyebrows wiggling to entice you into his plan. He isn’t going to give up on this easily, you know Jisung. And Jisung always gets his way.

“Fine,” you huff, “two weeks and that’s it. And if my mind isn’t changed you owe me 3 more of these,” you say, picking up your boba from the table and shaking it at eye-level for emphasis.

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, satisfied with your response. He isn’t exactly sure how he’ll manage to pull this off, but he’s definitely up for the challenge.

“We start tomorrow at 8, I’ll pick you up after work.”

Crossing your arms over the table, you bury your head in your arms. This is going to be the most interesting two weeks of your entire life.

“Wait, you're like dating dating the Han Jisung?” Felix’s jaw drops, excitement prevalent on his face as you spill about your night with Jisung.

Felix is the only person in your life that understood your hatred for relationships, other than Jisung of course. Not that he shares the hatred himself, he’s just heard enough about how much you despise being in one to know just how you felt. He’s only heard about it every day for the past several summers.

Felix is your best friend, other than Jisung of course. He’s also the only person in this world that you could bear to work with on a Saturday morning. 

“That's the plan,” you sigh fiddling with the containers on the counter. It’s pretty slow for a Saturday morning, only a handful of customers have come in so far and it's already 11 am.

That’s the thing about working at a coffee shop – and it sucks when it's busy, and it sucks even more when it's slow. At least it isn't a terrible job, you at least have Jisung and Felix to keep you company and that's always worthwhile.

“And for the record,” you turn to look at Felix, a grin still evident on his face, “I don’t think this is gonna change my mind about the love stuff.”

“You know how Jisung is,” his eyebrow lifts, “so you never know. Maybe something could happen.” 

If anyone was surprised that you were dating someone, fake relationship or not, it would be Felix. On top of that, you’re dating Han Jisung. As in, the same Jisung that ended a 3-month relationship last year because the girl ‘smelled too much like peaches’ and it was ‘too good to be true.’ And now that you’re the one stuck with him for the next 14 days, it is only a matter of time until he finds the deal-breaking trait that turns him away from you.

“Okay no, that's exactly why this is only two weeks. If I know Jisung, he’ll be over it before the 2 weeks even ends.”

“Whatever you say,” the pitch of his voice is raised teasingly. You can tell he doesn’t believe this will be just a ‘two-week thing’ by the funny little look on his face. You hate that look, and you hate how Felix always seems to be right.

Subsequently Felix sees a lot of things that you aren’t able to see for yourself. You’ve grown up with Jisung, grown accustomed to his unique mannerisms and behaviors without even noticing. Felix, on the other hand, has a different point of view. 

He’s not in it like you are, so gets to see the way Jisung looks at you; the way he hangs on each and every word that leaves your mouth with a sparkle in his eye. He notices that Jisung longs to make you laugh. And he watches the toothy grin each that grows on your face each time a chuckle breaks through your lips. Felix notices every behavior that you see as nothing more than ‘friendly.’ But who is he to say? So, for now, the information remains tucked away and stored in his mind for a later date.

Your fingers drum on the clean marble countertop beside you, leaning against it as you wait for a customer to come in. All this time with nothing to do is really doing wonders for your imagination; thinking about what Jisung has planned for the two of you to do tonight. Nothing special, you hope, he really doesn’t need to go all out for this. 

The lack of customers and silence that's fallen among the shop is just making it easier for your mind to wander off. It was beginning to make you sick how much you were thinking about Jisung and nothing has even happened yet. It's not like you have any reason to be nervous, but keeping all these thoughts trapped in your thick skull is starting to give you a headache

“He’s picking me up after work.” You blurt it out without thinking much about it. No one is here, you might as well lay it all out there for Felix to know since there's nothing better to do.

“He’s picking you up? Like you’re going on a date?”

“Shut upppp,” your eyes roll at his teasing nature, growing slightly embarrassed by how giddy the thought of this ‘date’ is making him, and you for that matter. It’s just Jisung. And you are just hanging out like you do every other night. There's nothing different about tonight and you’ll be able to prove that to yourself and Felix by the next time you see him.

The rest of you shift flies by – it always does when you work with Felix. Before you know it, the closing checklist is coming to an end, only a few steps left before you can finally get out of here. The clock had just turned to 7:55 pm, but Jisung still isn’t here. Not that you’re expecting him to be on time or anything, this is still the same Jisung you have always known.

What you aren’t familiar with is the nervous butterflies fluttering around in your tummy as the clock approaches 8 pm.  What are you even nervous about? It isn’t a blind date, other than the fact that you have no idea what you’re doing. And it isn’t even a date. It’s Jisung for crying out loud.

Speaking of the devil, the chimes in the front of the shop ring as Jisung passes through the doorway. You don’t see who it is at first, your back turns to the door as you sweep behind the counter. The chimes ringing at this time of night do trigger your fight or flight instincts though, ready to turn to whoever is approaching and give them a dirty look for coming in this close to closing time.

But once you turn around and see Jisung standing in the doorway with a bouquet of sunflowers, your tension quickly subsides. You swear that you can feel your heart skip a beat, heat rising to your cheeks as you try your hardest to form a coherent sentence. It's okay that you aren’t able to, though, the surprised look on your face is enough for his smile to light up the room.

“I’m here to pick up the pretty girl with the espresso stain on her shirt,” he chuckles, his bottom lip catching between his teeth nervously.

Tonight he’s dressed a lot nicer than usual comfy attire; a nice shirt with a pair of dark jeans that hug his slim figure. His hair is a lot lighter too – a vast change from the midnight black strands that normally frame his face. He’s really going all out for this thing – and right now all that you’re wearing a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt with coffee stains down the front.

When you look to your right, Felix is just as stunned as you are. Frozen in his spot as his jaw practically sweeps the floor, he looks at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised as a smug expression crosses his face. For a second you contemplate asking him if he’s all set to finish the closing checklist on his own, but before you’re able to speak up he’s already shooing the two of you out the door.

With a goofy grin displayed across his face, Jisung hands you the bundle of flowers, tied together with a delicate white ribbon. You mumble a thank you, still stunned that he showed up here looking like that to take you out tonight. So he is the romantic type, note taken.

“You like nice,” you gulp nervously. It already feels like a date and you haven’t even left the parking lot yet. If this is how things are going to start you had an exciting 13 more days ahead of you...

“So do you,” he smirks, his eyes wandering down to the small brown stains littering your shirt. Eyes narrowing, you read the expression crossing his face – of course, he’s joking. “I brought you some fresh clothes to change into don’t worry.”

Relief rushes through your body as the words leave his lips, followed by a slight pull on your heart strings. Knowing he took the time to think about bringing you something else to wear so you didn’t have to sit in your coffee scented clothes all night made you feel warm in the strangest way. He’s thoughtful, and it's weirding you out – but in a good way.

“So, where are we even going?”

“You’ll see.”

A vague yet interesting, and very on-brand response from Jisung. He’s always been a fan of surprises – as long as he’s not on the receiving end.

The drive to your destination drags on forever. You aren’t quite sure how long you’ve been on your way; between your agile back seat changing of clothes, which you are surprisingly skilled at, and the anticipation coursing through your veins, you’ve lost track of time. All you know is that you’ve been driving along the backroads of your area for at least 15 minutes, and there is nothing around you to indicate that your destination is near.

“This is it.” The car pulls into a small dirt parking lot, dimly lit by some dingy street lights that aren’t doing a very good job at their primary function. It's pretty hard to see what’s around you, no matter how hard you squint and press your forehead to the window to get a better look.

“Where are we?” The question leaves your lips in a worried fashion. Trees surround the parking lot on all three-sides, while the road you've pulled in from occupies the fourth-side. You’re hesitant to get out of the car, but as Jisung rounds the front and opens the door for you, you’re on your way out. He motions for you to hold on as he pops the trunk – returning with a blanket and a reusable shopping bag filled with god knows what.

He still hasn’t given an answer to your question though, and you still aren’t quite sure where you are. If It was lighter out you assume it would be beautiful here, all the greenery dark and shadows hovering over you from the trees.

The bright light from his cell phone flashlight lights up the way, a path on your right

“Hell no,” your arms cross over your chest as you stand still in your place. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re going into the woods this late at night. You’ve seen enough horror films, stuff like this never ends well.

“C’mon, it’s not as bad as it looks,” Jisung laughs at your pouting manner, amusement filling his system as you glue your feet to the ground of the parking lot. His puppy dog eyes plead for you to follow him, a hand outreaching in your direction for the taking. You contemplate it for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you ponder the possible outcomes of the situation before you.

“Fine,” you huff as you take his hand in yours.

His hand feels different in yours this time. His long fingers lacing between your smaller ones in the perfect fit that you’ve neglected to notice before. You’ve held his hand before, platonically though. This time it’s platonic too though, right? It’s just a date. A platonic date between two friends. Two friends who are dating on a two week trial period. So yes, it is strictly platonic. Right?

The dirt path doesn’t drag on for too long, but the sounds of bugs ticking and twigs breaking beneath your feet is enough to startle you. Every scared and breathy gasp that  leaves your mouth is followed by a small fit of laughter from Jisung. At least one of you is amused.

But the dirt path soon turns rocky, a clearing becoming more and more noticeable as Jisung’s flashlight brightens the way ahead of you. The rows of trees come to an end as the ground flattens, a giant slab of rock lying beneath your feet. Out ahead of you is completely dark, and until you approach the darkness you don’t notice that you’re just a few yards away from the edge of a cliff. A river lies below the edge, the sound of water rushing fills your ears and calms your nerves. It is quiet out here, peaceful and without distraction.

Jisung stands back as you admire the scenery around you – your own phone flashlight now out and panning around to look at the view. It’s beautiful out here, nothing to worry about but the sounds of the water and whatever Jisung is doing behind you…

You couldn’t have zoned out for more than 2 minutes, but once you turn back around to face him a picnic blanket lies on the ground before you. Snacks scatter the extent of the fabric, a few candles placed in the center

“You really went all out for this, huh?” A nervous laugh leaves your lips before you swallow harshly. Never in your life has a guy ever gone all out like this for you. A late-night picnic at a secret location, fixed with all of your favorite snacks and some candles for ambiance.

“Had to,” he smiles, “it’s our first date.”

You join him on the blanket, grabbing for a bag of popcorn as you sit down. Maybe relationships wouldn’t suck so much if all men treated you like this…

But it’s just Jisung. Jisung who already knows all your favorite things to eat. He’s just trying to be convincing – to prove to you that men take you on dates, do nice things. But stuff like this never lasts. Two weeks from now you’ll be going back to the same old Jisung and Y/N friendship that you’ve always had.

The conversation goes on as normal tonight, he doesn’t make any moves (as expected, it’s Jisung) and you enjoy the view and calm atmosphere with your fake but not so fake boyfriend. You stay out on the cliff for a few more hours before he takes you home. Jisung put a lot of effort into making tonight special, and you appreciate him for that. But even after all his effort, you know that real relationships aren’t like this.

Every guy you’ve dated would try to woo you over in the beginning too. They call it the honeymoon stage for a reason. Things are always great in the beginning, lavish gifts and dates, loving gestures. That kind of thing never lasts. Soon the effort runs out, the guy gets bored of putting the work in, and they end up sleeping with your freshman year roommate. Well, at least that's how it is for you.

The bundle of sunflowers Jisung gave to you earlier on in the night sits on the end table next to your bed. Each time you look at them all you can picture is the goofy grin he sported as he stood at the entrance of the coffee shop. It replays in your mind like a movie. How he dressed up all spiffy just to take you out. How he took you to a spot only he knew about, somewhere so off-site and serene that he knew you’d remain uninterrupted. You can’t help but wonder if he’s using the same old tricks on you that he does to other girls though. If he only knew about that place because he’s taken someone there before.

Not that it matters though, you aren’t his real girlfriend. You’re just on a trial period. But for some reason the thought that he might have brought another girl to the same spot before doesn’t sit well with you.

“Sooooo,” Felix teases, letting his chin fall into his palm as he leans on the counter before him, “how was your date with Y/N?”

Jisung chuckles at his nosiness, he’s sure you’ve already told Felix all about it. There are no secrets left between you two. Even sometimes Jisung felt like the odd man out when you’re all together.

“It was good.”

Jisung keeps his answer short, leaving the rest up to his imagination. He isn’t one to kiss and tell – or to not kiss and tell. Keeping his private life all to himself is something he takes pride in, things are just better that way.

“Just good?” Felix challenges, knowing there is much more that he’s leaving out. His eyes narrow as he waits for his response. You haven’t told him anything about last night, not even where you went after he picked you up. Things are radio silent on your end, which left Felix dying to know what actually happened on your ‘date that wasn't a real date.’

Jisung glances back at him, contemplating whether or not he should spill the beans. It would be kind of nice to have someone else to confide in. Especially since it's always you on the receiving end of his secrets; however, this may be the one secret that you don’t know of.

He chews on his bottom lip pensively, if anyone knows what’s on your mind, it would be Felix. Not that Jisung would ever want to pry, there's just no indication of how you feel about last night, or about him. Before Jisung can even open his mouth to speak, a knowing smirk is spread wide across Felix’s face. It’s that kind of look that makes him nervous – he knows something.

“You like her don’t you,” he muses, rubbing his hands together smooths as the words catch in the air. It’s out there now – and it’s obvious. Well, maybe not obvious, but it's clear as day to Felix – and that is more than enough to make Jisung worry.

“I don’t,” Jisung denies the other boy’s claim, his willpower too strong to give in.

“Oh yeah? So why do you self sabotage every one of your relationships then?”

The words catch Jisung off guard; his jaw clenching harshly as an annoyed breath is forced out of his nostrils. He wants to deny the claim once again, but he can’t bring himself to keep brushing off these feelings that have had a grip on him ever since he was young.

Felix is right too. He does sabotage each relationship that comes his way. Jisung goes out of his way to find something wrong with each girl he dates. He can never admit it to himself, but in the back of his mind, he knows that it's the fact that none of those girls are you. None of the girls he’s ever met could ever match up to all that you are. In his mind, you held the perfect score, and no one else had ever come close.

“It’s written all over your face every time you look at her you know.”

There's no way he’s that obvious... Did his feelings show that much whenever he was around you?

“What do you mean?” Jisung clarifies, the small once of hope bearing weight in his chest that Felix will follow up with a ‘just kidding’ or change the subject. Only the silence that falls on the room is enough of a response for Jisung to get the clue. 

“Just please don’t tell her,” he avoids eye contact with the other boy, hand gripping harshly on the countertop as he stares down at the black and white checkered tile. “I just wanted to see if I could change her mind – about the love stuff, you know?”

The second you find out about Jisung’s feelings all bets would be off. There’s no way you’d let your little arrangement continue, not if either of you could end up hurt. And he knows you only agreed to this because there is nothing between you romantically, it was a deal between two friends. The second feelings get involved, everything gets all mushy and confusing, and Jisung can’t lose you.

Felix bears his weight on the counter behind him, leaning comfortably on the cool glass. “Believe me, I want her to be done with that ‘I hate love thing’ just as much as you do,” he sighs, looking around momentarily before he clears his throat. “Want me to be honest?”

“Please.”

“I think you might be the only one who can change her mind.”

Jisung’s heart skips a beat once the words leave Felix’s mouth. Blood rushes to his ears, pumping like a snare drum as he considers his thoughts. His stomach begins to twist as he considers it, almost confused about what Felix means, but not willing to accept it. You only agreed to fake-date him, you still hate love.

A comfortable silence fills the air, Felix watching him as his lips roll between his teeth, deep in thought. Change your mind. The words repeat in Jisungs head like a broken record. That’s what he’s trying to do, all for the right reasons of course. So that you don’t  have to be so miserable about it anymore. 

But behind those selfless reasons are several smaller, selfish ones. He gets to be with you as more than a friend now, and although it’s nothing more than some kind of test run, he can’t help but feel like this can be something more too. It’d be crazy to ignore the feeling he has deep in his chest, and maybe it's a sign not to.

“Like you think…” Jisung gulps, clearing his throat as the words stutter out of his mouth, “I could get her to fall for me?”

The lack of response that Felix gives is ominous, but the raise of his eyebrows and toothy grin forming on his face needs no words to tell. 

If anyone is to change your mind, it’ll be Jisung.

That night Jisung took you to the drive-in movies. To be quite honest, you couldn’t really recall what was playing, some Pixar film with bugs as the main character if you could remember it correctly. You were far too distracted laughing with Jisung, watching as young kids played around on a grassy patch near his car. The giggles that left his lips each time the little girl waved to him were music to your ears. You never noticed how much he loved kids, how good he was with them.

The image of his hands clasped together as he fawned over the little girl, picking dandelions in the grass and racing to place them by your feet was burned into your memory. The boxy grin that graced his face all night long. The way his eyes squinted from his cheeks, pushing up as he smiled so big. The whispers of the word ‘cute’ each time her pigtails bounced while she toddled away.

Missing the movie doesn't disappoint you. If anything, the memories you've saved from tonight are more than enough.

The next night you were unable to go out, the shop was so busy that you were not able to leave until an hour and a half after your shift was supposed to end. Some punk kid dropped a cup of iced coffee on the floor on his way out and decided it would be best to leave it there without cleaning anything up or letting you know. Maybe if it hadn’t been so busy then you would have noticed the spill before it dried up and there were coffee stains stuck to the tile floors.

Naturally, you spent a good 15 minutes trying to mop up all the stickiness on the floor. But to your luck, Jisung is working with you that night. Once all the customers left the shop he hooked his phone up to the speakers, grabbed your hands, and danced you around the shop. Well, it was supposed to be dancing but it probably looked more like Jisung swinging your arms as you attempted to not trip over your own feet.

It makes up for not getting to go out though, and you’d take a night like that over a fancy dinner any chance you got. 

It’s been 12 days since you became Jisung‘s girlfriend, and as the remaining days decreased, so did your hatred for love. Each night he planned something special. The real kicker was the texts that you get once he makes it home from dropping you off every night. A simple ‘I had a great time tonight’ was enough to make your heart swell and heat rise to your cheeks.

And as you notice your hatred for love and relationships leaving you, you notice another feeling enter your system. Or several feelings…

Things are getting just as sticky as the night when two frappuccinos splattered all over the shop floor, whipped cream and all. Spending time with Jisung like this is bringing some things to the surface you didn’t know were buried in the first place.

Every night that you spent with Jisung over the past 12 days allowed you to see him in a new light. You got to see him on a different level than just friends. You got to see what every girl that fawns over Jisung experiences.

Something about your friendship never let you jump past that barrier. You only see him as a dear friend of yours. Nothing more and nothing less. And now the issue is that...you aren’t sure how you’ll ever go back to see him as such.

You like Jisung as more than a friend, that's for sure. And you know because of that things will never be able to go back to the way they once were.

Maybe you're reading too much into it, but your gut is telling you that you aren't the only one feeling this way.

The feeling of butterflies that pound in your stomach each time you meet eyes with him has to be reciprocated. There is just no way you can be feeling this way and he isn’t.

This isn’t like the feelings you’ve caught for any guy before, this is something else. Every night when you go home you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling with a dumb grin on your face as you think about your time together, about him. About the way his black curly hair falls in front of his eyes each time he looks down and how his smile lights up every room he was in.

These things that you were so blind to before can’t escape your thoughts, and it makes you wonder how many times or things you’ve looked over that make you melt, just like you are right now.

But in just 2 days, this trial-boyfriend period will be over, and you’ll have to go back to being just friends. Each day, each hour, each minute that approaches feels heavier and heavier. Anxiety floods your system each time you think about things being over, or that this arrangement you have isn’t even real.

When you think about the growing feelings you have for him, you honestly can't imagine what your life will be like any other way. What it would be like going back to just hanging out here and there. And what it would be like

You can’t even fathom thinking about what it would be like hearing him talk about another girl again. It makes you sick thinking that there's going to be someone after you, because in just 5 days this will be all over, and you’ll go back to being the girl best friend, nothing more.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking that Jisung has more feelings for you too. But the glimmer in his eyes as his bangs brush out of his eyes and they land on you tells a different story. When he looks at you it feels like you are the only two people on earth. He sees nothing else but you, and the way your eyes sparkle back at him.

Each day you spend with Jisung after that feels like a wrench tightening the screws of your heart. 14 days is just not enough.

“Earth to Y/N,” Felix says waving a hand in your face.

You must have zoned out, for god knows how long.

“Thinking about Jisung?”

“What?” you immediately straighten your posture and brush yourself off before responding, “N-no…I’m just thinking.”

“Right,” the sarcasm drips from his lips, not sparing you any time to save yourself as he turns away, beginning to wipe off the tables in the front.

For personal reasons, you’ve kept Felix out of the loop during this whole “fake-boyfriend Jisung” thing. It’s better if you keep your feelings to yourself until you figure them out. And although it feels really really strange not giving Felix the intel on what’s going on in your life, you know it’s for your own good.

Once you put what is in your head out into the world, you can’t take it back. And what if all these things that you’re feeling is just a part of the honeymoon-phase. If that even existed anyway… But if all these feelings for Jisung are due to him trying to woo you and change your mind, everything will just fade away as things return back to normal. And then you’ll be left loving him in silence while you watch him blow through relationships like a leaf blows through the wind.

Something in you tells you that this isn't the case, but the small shadow of doubt in the back of your mind keeps you from talking to your best friend about it anyway.

The thing is, you don't have to tell Felix for him to know. Every time Jisung picks you up from work to take you out you shine. Your smile spreads so wide he’s afraid your cheeks will tear. The nervous shake of your fingers as you grab for your belongings as you head out the door doesn’t go unnoticed in Felix’s eyes. He knows you too well to look over things like this, he just wanted to wait for you to say something first.

But now that you aren’t, Felix has decided to take matters into his own hands, asking you about it himself.

“Felix,” you start, waiting for his attention before you pull out a stool, sitting down and motioning for him to follow suit. Quickly he does, a questioning but knowing look evident on his face as the stool squeaks under him. “You know how this thing between Jisung and I is just an experiment or whatever?”

He nods in response, his hand quickly falling into his palm as he listens intently to your words.

“I think I messed up.” Your head is buried in your arms, laid over the tabletop in embarrassment.

“What do you mean?”

His question is more for clarification, he wants to hear you say it yourself. Felix knows that you’re gonna tell him that you’ve already caught feelings. He sees it coming from a mile away, you confirming it is just the icing on the cake.

“Don’t make me say it,” you whine, neglecting to pick your head up and look at him. You can feel the grin on his face. You know he's smirking at you right now, doing his best to hold back a laugh. Finally, you over the ‘I hate love and relationships suck’ thing.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he sings, quite obviously teasing you while another deep sigh echoes from your chest. You manage to pick your head up, leaning onto your elbows with your chin caught between your palms as you face him.

“I like him.”

It comes out as a whisper, but Felix hears it loud and clear. If you didn’t know better, you’d assume that the smile on his face can't grow any larger, but it does. He jumps up from his chair in victory, doing a funny dance with his arms whooping in the air to celebrate. You’re confused as to why, but you’re too far in your own thoughts to pay it any mind; your head just sinks back into your arms as your forehead presses against the cold metal table beneath you.

“I knew it,” Felix smiles, his happy dance subsiding as he positions himself back down across from you. “I knew this fake dating thing was gonna work.

“Yeah well it really worked, because now I have feelings for a guy that’s never gonna reciprocate them for me.” Your tone is laced with sarcasm, a disappointing ring sounding off on each of your words. You’re too embarrassed to look at the boy sitting before you, worried that if you do all the emotions you’ve been holding onto for so long will spill over and stain your stone-cold image; one you’ve maintained for far too long.

But Felix is your best friend. The only one that you should be comfortable being vulnerable about your feelings for Jisung with; for some reason all you can’t bring yourself to be. Before you can get a grip on your emotions tears are streaming down your face and falling onto the cold metal surface under you in small puddles. 

A sympathetic sigh leaves Felix’s lips as he tries to gain your attention, “Hey.”

Inhaling deeply, you face him – mascara strewn across your face in black streaks and eyes nearly bloodshot. You’ve held this in for far too long. Only a double would tire you out and exhaust you enough to cry on the clock. Thank god it’s a rainy day, no customers ever come in on rainy days.

Or at least, no customers usually come in on rainy days. It's not until you hear the bells on the front door ring that you’re wiping your eyes, whipping around to greet whoever was entering.

And then you see him, standing there as he shakes out his umbrella, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand.

And he sees you; mascara running down your face and tears staining your cheeks. He’s early. Your stomach turns at the sight of him, emotions not stable enough to handle carry a normal conversation like  

“Y/N,” his voice is quiet, worry dripping in his tone as your name leaves his lips. But you can’t face him right now, not like this.

Your feet move faster than you mind, standing up and rushing to the back to avoid him. Jisung doesn’t follow you, just stands there and watches you walk away, solemn and worried that he’s done something. 

It’s not until Felix is rising from his seat and pacing over to him that he’s brought back to reality.

“Jisung...” he starts, hands coming up slowly to console him, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here right now.”

“Wh-what’s wrong?” His lip worries between his teeth, eyes glossy as he stares at the door you just closed behind you. He’s looking at it intently, mind flooding with worry, wishing so badly that the door will just fly open, and you’ll tell him what was going on. In the back of his mind, he knows that you won’t, at least not for now. Talking about emotions has never been your strong suit, and chances of that changing at this moment are at an all-time low.

Felix is unsure how to answer him, caught in between not wanting to lie and keeping your feelings private. He can’t speak for you; but he’s scared that saying nothing could just make this whole situation worse.

His mouth gapes as he searches for a response to his question, lips opening and closing while he hums to himself.

The umbrella hanging from Jisung’s hand drops with a crash, starling Felix as he jumps at the sudden sound. But before he is even able to speak, the bell to the front door is ringing again, and Jisung is walking away into the pouring rain.

The next day you wake up feeling numb. You’ve received several texts from Jisung the night before, none of which you have the energy to reply to or even look at for that matter.

The guilt riddling your body has become too much for you to handle. You left work last night without even saying goodbye to Felix. He’s a good enough friend and coworker to know that what you’re going through is more important than working the counter at an coffee shop. 

After Jisung left, Felix came back and let you know; he almost had to break down the door to the backroom in order for you to let him in. He told you to go home, get some rest and that you’d talk tomorrow.

But after waking up the last thing you want to do is talk about Jisung, it hurts enough just thinking about him.

Every time you thought about how your arrangement was supposed to end in just a few days you felt sick. You have worked so hard to open up just to build your walls back up again. And now you’re back at square one.

When you agreed to be Jisung’s girlfriend you did not expect to fall for him like this. He’s Jisung for god’s sake. He’s your personal diary, he’s the one who knows all the shit that nobody else does. And he’s the only one that listens to all the dumb shit you have to say that no one else cares about.

Feelings ruin everything. Love sucks, and you knew this before you agreed. You agreed under the circumstances that Jisung could show you that relationships could be fun; not under the circumstances that he would make you fall in love with him,

And the more that you think about it, maybe you were always in love with him. Maybe you always had these feelings for him, but they were trapped in the tight bonds of friendship that your subconscious never let you out.

But none of that even mattered now. The deal had to be off, and you need to distance yourself from Jisung before you are hurt any worse. The longer this goes on the worse that you are going to feel when it's all over.

How are you supposed to go back to normal after this? Like is Jisung thinking that showing you how amazing relationships are, you won't fall for him or something? Or does his true plan consist of making you fall in love with him, just to string you along like every other girl he's dated?

You’re trapped in the never-ending spiraling thoughts, soiling your image of Jisung with each new theory that crosses your mind. None of them are good. All of them paint him as a player, as someone who just used you.

But the little thump in your heart when you notice the sunflowers placed on your bedside table wants your mind to change. Your heart wants you to believe that Jisung feels something too, that throughout this arrangement he has seen a different side to you too – that he’s fallen for you just like you have for him.

It's a knock at your door that guides you out of your thoughts. The repetitive tapping at your front door that drags you out of bed. And when you check your peephole and it's no one else, but your small blonde best friend standing on your doorstep that has relief rushing through your system.

The door cracks open, Felix standing there with an umbrella in his hand – even though it was nearly 100º with clear skies.

“Why are you still in your pajamas? It's noon.”

Suddenly, he pushes past you and invites himself into to your living room. Plopping down on your couch, Felix makes himself comfortable as he waits for you to join. You spin on your heels, an exhausted breath leaving your mouth as you pace over to him, plopping down on the next cushion over.

“Why the umbrella?” Your brow furrows as he hands it over. You take it though, still confused behind the meaning of the object that you're holding and where it came from.

“It’s Jisung’s.”

You nearly drop it as his name leaves his lips. The name causes your stomach to tighten, mouth-drying instantly as emotions well behind your eyes.

“Why?” Is all you can mutter out. Why was he giving it to you, why is he here, and why did he have it?

“You need to bring it back to him.” He says sternly, his eyes locked on you as he waits for you to look back at him. But you’re too focused on the umbrella placed gently in your hands, tracing your finger over every wire and the soft rubber handle.

“I can’t.” Your words come out in a whisper, breath light and airy as you sigh, sinking your body back into the couch cushions. Giving the umbrella back to Jisung will mean that you have to go see him. And if you see him, he’s going to want to talk to you about last night, then question you about why you haven’t been returning his texts. No. You will not be giving Jisung his umbrella back.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his mouth gently, a sigh following it before he reaches for you, rubbing your arm comfortingly before continuing, “I think you need to talk to him.”

“Felix you know I can’t do that.”

You’re serious in your words. Not that you don’t want to talk to Jisung. You most definitely want to – and if you could, you would. But you can’t. There are too many emotions involved. The wound is fresh and seeing him would be rubbing salt right into it.

“Y/N,” he sighs, this time more forceful, like he’s trying to get something across to you but it's going right over your head. “Talk to him. Please.”

“You know I’m going to end up hurt if I do.” Tears well in your eyes as the words croak from your throat. It's dry and scratchy, full of fear and anxiety.

“I think you’d be surprised,” he mumbles, his eyes instantly widening on realizing the words that just escaped. Eyes wide with confusion, you’re begging him to go on, but if he does then Jisung won’t be the only one in deep shit right now. It's not up to Felix to tell you what he knows this time. 

“What do you mean I’ll be surprised?”

“I have to go,” he stands instantly, motioning to the umbrella, “and you need to bring this back.”

With a slight ruffle to your hair, Felix is giving you a supporting smile and waving goodbye. And you’re left alone once again – just you and Jisung’s blue umbrella.

It takes a lot of courage to get ready today. You make sure to take your sweet time rummaging through your closet, flipping through articles of clothing for the better half of an hour. At the end, you opt to go with a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. There isn't enough energy in your body to put on anything else, and you know you’ll just want to curl back up in bed once you get home. Sweatpants are safe, and safe is just what you need.

No makeup today either. If things are anything like you’re expecting, your makeup will just end up ruined anyway. It's your better judgment to shower though, you’ve neglected to take one after work last night; opting to just bury yourself under your covers as soon as you got back. But today is a new day. And with a fresh shower and your comfiest pair of sweatpants, you are about as ready as you’ll ever be to get your heart broken into a billion pieces. 

Umbrella in hand, you step out onto your front steps, relishing in your last few moments of ignorant bliss before making your way to Jisung’s. You immediately regret your wardrobe decision as the sun beats down on your frame, the humidity making you feel sticky and gross – your favorite pants are  no match for this heat.

But you’re on your way to your destination anyway, the drive feeling longer and more drawn out than normal. Jisung didn’t live that far away from you, but the ride there still felt like an eternity with each theoretical scenario passing your mind. 

Dragging your feet, you make your way to the front steps of his house. You’ve been here a million times, but today is different. From now on, every time you drive past this place all you’ll know is heartache.

You brush yourself off, taking a deep breath before bringing your hand up and pushing the doorbell. The sudden ringing sound startles you, even though you have every indication that it’s coming – you’re just too nervous and jumpy for your own good.

Footsteps approach the door, your stomach tightening more and more with the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps. You’re praying to God that it’s his mom, hoping that Jisung just so happens to be out – even though his car is in plain sight parked just a few meters away from you. Wishful thinking, you suppose.

When the door to his house opens, you struggle to maintain your composure. He’s dressed similarly to you; a pair of sweats and an old sports t-shirt that has definitely seen better days.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

His eyes are sunken in, dark circles dragging underneath his eyes and his lips pulled downwards. He looks like a sad puppy, his dark hair all scruffy and sticking up in each direction – probably from him running his hands through it so many times. 

“I came to give you this,” you extend the umbrella out before you. He nods before taking hold of it, his hand far at the opposite end making sure not to keep his distance. The more you look at him, the more sorry you feel for dodging his texts. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink, and you’re afraid it’s all because of you.

“Oh...uh, thanks,” he struggles to make eye contact with you, looking down at the object in his hand. 

It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and you can’t seem to find the words to say to break this strange tension between the two of you. He’s acting weird, shifting his weight back and forth but not moving away to close the door. His mind is racing once again – contemplating whether or not to just invite you in or leave it at that.

But with every aching bone in his body, he musters up the courage to lift his head, looking you directly in the eyes. Their dark like his, definitely from the lack of sleep you had the night before. Your mouth is turned downward too; hands fiddling together to try and distract yourself.

“D-Do you wanna come in?” He stutters, stepping aside slowly as he gestures towards his house. He suddenly worries when you don’t respond right away, taking a second to contemplate if this is a good idea or not. Ripping off the band-aid is never easy, but it needs to be done.

“Sure,” is the word that you decide on – hoping that it doesn’t make you seem disinterested or too desperate to talk. Maybe he’s just being kind though. Maybe it’s an empty offer, something that you say when you’re trying to be nice, but subconsciously hope that they won’t take you up on it. Like when you offer to share your food with someone, but you’re really hungry. You do it to be nice, not because you actually want to split the delicious looking burger and fries on your plate.

He leads you inside and to his bedroom. It looks the same as always, but it feels different. It still smells like him though, the comforting woodsy scent of pine and mahogany that he always reaches for. But that comforting scent is anything but comfortable. You’re frozen in place, unsure if you should sit on his bed and make yourself at home, much like every other time in the past. For now you just stand in the doorframe, waiting for him to tell you to take a seat, just like any polite guest would. A guest. You have never felt like a guest in his home before, or around Jisung in general. But that imaginary wall between the two of you is standing tall and sturdy, and suddenly the two of you are reverted back to being strangers.

You watch as he toys with something on his desk, his fingers dancing from object to object and sifting through papers to look busy. The point of it – unknown to you but to him, he’s buying time. Trying to think of the first thing to say, what to ask, or if you even wanted to talk. Maybe you only agreed to come inside to be nice. Maybe you were too worried about hurting his feelings if you said no. But alas, here you are, standing awkwardly in his doorway as he shuffles around his room, his brain flooding with thoughts – but his mouth can not form them into audible words.

“I’m sorry for ignoring your texts.”

Your voice catches his attention, dropping whatever paper he’s looking at now and turning his gaze to you. You’re sunken into yourself, your chest thumping with anxiety as his eyes begin to wander your frame. Not in a ‘I’m checking you out’ manner though; more of a ‘you look so sad and I don’t know what to say to you right now’ kind of way. 

It’s true though, he doesn’t know what to say – which is why he’s staring at you, hoping the right words would just pop up and he didn’t have to use any brain-power at all. He doesn’t want to say ‘it's okay,’ because it's not. You never ignore his texts, and that alone tells him enough about what's going on. You are upset at him.

“What did I do wrong, Y/N?”

His words sound accusatory but his tone is soft, gentle and full of worry. Eyes swollen and looking like they are about to fill to the brim with tears, his sight is focused on you; now not able to look away.

“I-I don’t know…”

Your answer is honest. You don’t know if his intentions are dirty. Yeah, that’s what you thought initially, but looking at him with such hurt written all over his face tells a different story. 

Jisung is silent, unsure of what more he can do or say to make you talk to him. He can’t force you to open up, he never has and he never will – that’s always been his rule. Everything you’ve shared with him has been on your own terms and conditions. Jisung has always been here to be your listening ear, but he never prys.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice is soft, eyes full of sympathy as he holds himself together. Those were the words he has been looking for. Now the ball is in your court and you’ll have to be the one leading the conversation. It’s just what he needed to figure this shit out.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Y/N,” he sighs as he drops himself down onto the mattress, “I shouldn’t have to say this for you to know it, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

You do know that. You really, really do. But this time things are different. Is he expecting you to just come out and speak your truth like there won’t be consequences? No, he won’t push you to tell him anything you don’t want to. But the worry in his eyes and clammy hands are begging for you to just let it out so he can stop being in the dark.

You sigh out an ‘okay’ before sitting down beside him. 

Rip the band-aid off Y/N. Quick and painless.

His eyes narrow, almost to a squint, staring right through you in hopes of reading your thoughts. Your expression is nothing but blank as you try your best to gain some sort of composure. Do you just speak up and spill your guts? The words replay in your mind over and over until your thoughts are beat down and misshapen. 

You can picture his face when you say it; disgusted with a trace of disappointment and some confusion spread into the mix. Or maybe he’ll laugh at how pathetic you were, catching feelings for your fake boyfriend.

That’s it. There’s no way you can tell him. It would be much easier to just get up and leave. Tell him to pretend like none of this ever happened and that you needed some time to cool off. A few months maybe, or maybe you could just ghost him entirely. 

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your toxic thoughts, and his chocolate brown eyes bring you back down to earth. You can’t just leave him in the dust. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists. Things will be okay, right?

“Sorry, sorry,” you exhale deeply as you calm your thoughts; shifting the nasty scenarios out and accepting that whatever happens after this conversation is your fate. 

“Jisung, I-I guess I wasn’t expecting this boyfriend-girlfriend thing we’re doing to go like this.”

His brow quirks at your words, confusion riddling his expression as his eyes narrow. With a tilt of his head, he’s pushing you to continue, visibly riddled with your choice of words.

“Swear you’ll be honest when I ask you this?” You question him, your hand moving closer to his as you lean in slightly. He’s like a magnet, you can’t help yourself from moving closer; even though the proximity of the two of you is clouding your thoughts and you can feel your heart beginning to swell.

He nods in response to your question, his eyes full of concern as he waits for you to continue, “Why did you ask me to do this thing?”

He knows that a question like this was coming, only if he could have prepared for it. But he didn’t, so his throat is left dry and scratchy as his mouth opens, only to stutter a bit before closing it back up. No coherent thoughts or words are able to escape his lips, just nonsense mumbling that caught himself off guard.

With a deep breath, he closes his eyes, regaining his composure before he can face you again. He agreed to be honest, and if honesty is what you want, honesty is that you’ll get.

“I’m sorry.” That’s all that he can say. 

Oh no. This is exactly what you were expecting before you came here. He’s gonna tell you that he didn’t mean to mess with your emotions, that he felt you catching feelings and got carried away. That he’s sorry that he ruined your friendship and played you like a violin all at once.

“Me too.”

You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but you are. It feels wrong. Absolutely utterly, and undoubtedly wrong. Apologizing for your own feelings is not something that you are okay with. Especially when he made you fall for him like this. Okay so maybe thinking that is giving him too much power, but who the hell takes you out on dates for nearly 2 weeks straight just to laugh about it later. How can he expect you to not catch feelings for him? With his deep voice and fluffy hair that always hangs in front of his eyes, that little giggle he has when he finds something amusing. Everything about him was attractive. And you’ve fallen for it all. Hard.

“Wait, why are you sorry?”

A scoff escapes your mouth unintentionally, but it’s well deserved. “For being the idiot to fall for a guy that was playing her, I guess.”

You can’t look at him any longer, so your eyes fall to your lap, staring at your chipped nail polish and dirty fingernails instead of reading whatever dumb expression he has now. But if you just took a second to look up, you’d notice the widening of his eyes, how his fingers are beginning to shake and his mouth gape. 

“Wh-What?”

“Don’t make me say it again Jisung, I don’t feel like sounding stupid one more time.”

“No no I heard you, it's just,” his eyes slam shut, angry at himself that he let things get this far without keeping you in the loop. 

You’ve been telling him that you hate love for years now. After hearing it so many times, he’d just given up on the thought of you. Maybe if he said something before you went through all those shitty guys things could have been different. But he’s let this go on for far too long, and now you’re the one that was paying the price. 

“Y/N I have feelings for you.”

Your neck nearly breaks with how fast your head snaps up. He’s the one looking away now, his cheeks a bit rosy as he tries to hide himself. He isn’t doing a very good job though, his hair is only shadowing his eyes and you can clearly see the way he’s nervously chewing on his lip; a cute habit you have grown fond of these past couple of weeks.

If he didn’t look like he does right now, you’d assume he was messing around. But you know Jisung. You know his small little gestures and what they mean by now. You know when he’s being serious and when he’s telling a lie. He can look someone dead in the eye and lie to them, but when he tells the truth, he becomes shy and worried that he’s said the wrong thing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask softly, gently reaching for his hand. The subtle contact makes him flinch, reacting by pulling your hand away. But his eyes meet your sympathetic ones, sparkling just like they always do, and he knows what he wants.

Jisung’s hand reaches back for yours, lacing his fingers through yours before giving your hand a light squeeze. “You hate relationships,” he chuckles lightly, the mood of the room instantly shifting as the laughter leaves his lips. 

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you,” you correct him, but your voice comes across as just a whisper. He’s close enough to hear though, a blushing grin forming on his face as you shyly look away. His heart flutters when he hears it, a million butterflies erupting in his tummy all at once.

“I hated the ones that weren’t with you too,” he coos, his eyes wide and sparkling as he looks at you with such adoration. 

Time moves in slow motion as his hand meets your cheek, your eyes look deeply into his chocolate ones as he moves in closer. As your eyelids flutter shut his tongue runs across his bottom lip, wetting the surface before closing the distance between you. Finally.

And in that moment you’re at peace. Everything you thought you’ve ever hated, love, relationships, and maybe Jisung for a hot second, are the only things that you long for. The 14 days don’t have to be over, and your days no longer have to be counted. When you’re with Jisung you’re happy, you’re comfortable, and you're confident that he can give you what you have always deserved – but have never gotten. 

His lips move against yours in slow, languid motions, his large hands holding you close like he’s holding on for dear life. But you won’t leave even if you want to, not now, not after all this. 

Slowly, Jisung shifts his weight and you move in succession. He’s laying you down on his bed, gently climbing over you without breaking the kiss. Things are becoming more heated now, you can feel it as his hungry lips devour your own. Your chest heaves up to meet his, your back arching off the mattress as his hands begin to scour your body. The heat pooling in between your legs is growing, an aching sensation overwhelming your core as your own hands reach up to rake through his long, fluffy hair. And you can tell he wants you too, the thin fabric of his sweatpants doing little to conceal the growing erection pressing against your thigh. 

You can’t help but let out a steep moan as his hips begin to grind into yours. Needy groans fall past his lips and onto yours as you roll your hips upwards to meet his small ruts. 

In a leisurely motion, Jisung’s body is moving upwards, his knee finding a place between your legs as he brings himself up to a kneeling position. You chase his lips the entire way there, sitting up straight to be sure the contact doesn’t vanish, too consumed by your need for him to leave his lips.

And then his needy hands are running along the waistband of your sweats, fiddling with the tie before breaking your heated kiss. “Is this okay?” His words come out in a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any signs of doubt, but all he sees is lust.

“Yes,” you confirm, out of breath from making-out for so long without coming up for air. The lightheaded feeling taking over you goes unnoticed though, and quite frankly you’re too caught up in Jisung to care.

Quickly, he rids you of your pants, looking back up at you for confirmation about your underwear. With an affirmative nod he’s removing those too, leaving you completely bare from the waist down as he stands over you fully clothed.

But soon he’s ridding himself of his own clothing, his shirt being pulled at the nape of his neck as he discards it across the room. He’s leaning back down to you, hungry for the feeling of your lips. He misses it, even though it's been less than a minute since he’s last felt your smooth lips on his. 

You won’t open your eyes to see, but with the shuffling movements and shaky connection between your mouths you can tell Jisung is stripping himself of any remaining clothing he has on. He’s needy, unable to wait any longer to get down to business, he’s already waited long enough.

You’re the one who breaks the kiss this time, too curious to see what he’s sporting down below for your own good. But you are not disappointed once you see it – he’s long and girthy; the pigment a shade or two darker from his skin tone than the rest of his body.  Your thoughts are wandering, wondering what it's like to have him inside of you; dreaming about what he feels like. Arousal pools at your core, mouth salivating as your daydreams linger.

“Like what you see?” Jisung chuckles. You barely notice that you’ve been staring, eyes wide and focused on the hardened dick before you, which is probably a bit uncomfortable for him. 

“Sorry!” You cringe at yourself lightly, covering your eyes in embarrassment in fear that you just ruined the mood you’ve worked too hard to create.

“Don’t apologise,” he smiles as he grabs your wrists, moving them away from your round eyes. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you catch your lip in between your teeth, mentally face palming at how weird you’re being.

He couldn’t blame you though, it was taking everything in him not to gawk at you. It was the first time you’ve seen eachother naked. Bathing suits did little for your imagination, not that you had even thought about Jisung this way before.

But he eases your nerves by coming down face level with you, reaching for your shirt and pulling it up over your head. You look at him with wide eyes, taking in each part of him as he caresses your body gently. He’s in awe of you like this. So relieved that you’re finally his, that he has you like this.

Nimble fingers dance down your body, landing at your core as he runs one up your slit, collecting your arousal on his fingertip. An impressed smirk grows slowly on his face, “I can’t believe you’re this wet already,” he hums. “All for me.” 

His eyes remain focused on your center, devouring it with his eyes as his hands hold steady on your thighs. You can’t help but grow slightly embarrassed, dripping with arousal so early on though he’s barely touched you. A lump forms in your throat causing you to swallow thickly – this doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung.

A concerned expression crosses his face, brow furrowing as he moves his hands upward to settle on your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft, gentle and full of worry, “everything okay?” 

“Just nervous,” you answer, a fake smile showing on your face to try and combat your own emotions.

It is no secret that Jisung is a bit more experienced than you are in bed. He knows that, you know that, and that is enough to turn you into a nervous wreck. Leave it to your own thoughts to ruin the moment.

“We don’t have to…”

“No!” Your voice comes out a little too eager, a bit loud, shocking Jisung. His eyes widen in response, body jolting from the impact of your tone. “No,” you say more gently this time, “I want to.”

You did want to – you just have to get over your own nerves first. Lucily, Jisung didn’t mind and was willing to guide you through it.

With a reassuring smile plastered across his face, he laces his fingers through yours. As you lock eyes, you nod him onward, giving him the go-ahead to continue. He moves languidly, his fingers moving back down to trace your slit once more. The sensation makes you tense, the nerves tingling through your body making it difficult for you to calm down. 

But with a reassuring squeeze of his hand to yours, you’re taking a deep breath. Closing your eyes as you lie your head backwards onto his pillowcase. The smell of him consumes you, relaxing you effectively as his fingers meet the entrance of your core.

Shivers run through your body as he dips one finger inside. Your arousal acts as a natural lube, letting his finger glide gracefully into you. You gasp at the sensation, eyes rolling back into your head as he begins caressing your walls. His finger moves swiftly in and out of your core, his other hand still locked with yours to guide you through.

With your body finally relaxing, Jisung is able to add another finger into the mix. The extra pressure makes you shudder for a moment, taking a little to adjust to the greater size inside of you. Thankfully the mild discomfort subsides, and he’s able to pump his fingers in and out once more. 

He’s making sure to watch each of your expressions, growing harder and harder just from watching your face contort in bliss. With each of his movements you bite down harder onto your lip, focusing on him and him only. 

“You’re doing so well,” he praises as his thumb rubs circles over your hand soothing you. You can feel your heart swell at his words, heat beginning to rise to your cheeks. 

In one swift motion, Jisung begins to separate his fingers, stretching your walls as his digits move in scissor-like motions inside you. “Fuck,” you mumble, hips jutting forward in reaction. 

A steep moan leaving your lips as he brings his fingers back together, just to extend them once more. Your body is quickly getting used to the pressure, begging for more as you roll your hips.

He can sense that you’re eager from your movements alone. With one final squeeze, his hand is leaving yours. The empty feeling in your palm is unpleasant. But once you open your eyes and notice he’s using it to palm himself, his fingers groping around his length and beginning to pump slowly, that empty feeling is replaced with something else. 

Your mouth salivates with desire, hungry for the feeling of him inside of you. He’s aroused you enough, and you’re too eager to feel him for your own good.

“Jisung,” you moan, “fuck me please.”

His cock jumps in reaction to your words, his chest heaving as his breath catches in his throat. Never in his life did he expect to hear those words come out of your mouth – but he wouldn't mind hearing it again.

“Hmm?” He hums, knowing damn well what you said but being greedy enough to pretend that he didn’t. You whine in response, your legs shaking on the bed in a mini temper-tantrum.

“Please,” you drag out, “please fuck me.”

Your words are music to his ears. He removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, grabbing the backs of your knees to pull you closer to him and hike your legs up over his hips.

“Anything for you.”

Complying to your wish, he lines the tip of his cock up with your entrance. The feeling of his smooth head against your core is enough to make you moan, your head thrown back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

Jisung takes this as an opportunity to leave his own mark behind, leaning down to attach his lips to your skin. You gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his plump lips sucking harshly before his tongue is swiping over the area to soothe it. 

But your eyes open once he’s beginning to pull away to look at you. His eyes are dark, full of lust mixed with adoration, a sigh of relief leaving his chest as he gazes down at you under him. There’s a lot going on in his head right now. Of all the emotions swirling around, the thing he’s most focused on is how lucky he is to have you.

And before you know it, he’s leaning down. Pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, making you smile. One more kiss is left on your forehead before he's pulling back, securing the position of your legs on his hips. 

And then he’s realigning himself with your core, pushing past your entrance and slowly descending into the depths of your pussy. He’s moving slowly, taking his time as he thrusts into you. The delicious stretch is unfamiliar, but it's not uncomfortable – like you were made just for him. A simultaneous groan leaves your lips as he bottoms out, the tip of his cock pressing deep into you on a spot that’s gone untouched. 

He hums a sigh of contempt before pulling back, only to rock his hips into you once again. Your velvety walls welcome him delightedly, soft whimpers leaving your lips once he bottoms out again.

“Y/N,” your name leaves his lips in a low grunt, the bones of his pelvis driving into your skin as he begins to pick up his pace. In reaction you clench down on him, orgasm beginning to loom overhead with each movement of his hips.

Desire fills your senses as you roll your hips over to meet his thrusts. His movements are slow and intentional, making sure to bottom out each time to watch you squirm over his dick. He loves how your jaw drops each time his tip presses against your g-spot, knowing just when he hits it each time.

Jisung’s teeth are barred, sweat gathering at his brow as his dark fluffy hair sticks to his face. He’s trying to hold himself back, the overwhelming urge to finish just in reach, but he doesn’t want to stop. So his hands roam your body to try and distract him, his palms caressing up the sides of your torso as your back bridges into him. The feeling of hot breath fans over your face with each sigh he lets out. 

But the tightening knot in your stomach is threatening to snap with every movement of his hips. It's getting harder and harder to hold on with the power of his thrusts growing stronger.

“Jisung,” you whine, “so close” your hands find his back, fingernails dragging down his spine in attempts to ground yourself. Jisung’s face contorts as your nails pierce his skin, leaving lines of red scratches down the length of his posterior.

The stretch from his length and his rhythmic motions sends your senses into overdrive. Squeezing your eyes shut and grasping onto the sheets underneath you, you can taste the brink of your orgasm. Jisung is focused; his grip on your thighs strong and his face contorted with bliss. But all you can think about is how stupid you could have been if you had decided to just cut him out. What matters is that you’re here with him now, and the thought of that is enough to push you over the edge. 

Your breath hitches in your throat, stomach twisting and turning as your pussy throbs repeatedly around his member. Emotions running high, three words almost slip past your lips, but with the small amount of strength you can muster up, you hold them back. Another time, some time that isn't so lust filled like this one.

Jisung’s thrusts are growing sloppy. His grip on your legs tightening as his lip is caught between his teeth. And with just a few quick thrusts, he’s coming undone inside of you. White, hot spurts of cum paint your walls, filling you up and making you feel so unbelievably full. 

You’ve always felt close to Jisung – he knew everything about you and vice versa; but this time was different. The way his hands settled on your legs, bringing them down gently after finishing. How his eyes are becoming so soft as he looks at you, a lazy grin pulling at his lips. You’ve never felt closer to Jisung as you do in the moment. As his body collapses next to yours, pulling you in and holding you close as you recover from your highs, you’re completely at peace.

“Sorry I got carried away, I guess I should have asked if you’re on birth control still,” he laughs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Don’t worry, I am,” you chuckle alongside him.

Your naked bodies tangle together, his leg weaving its way through yours to be as close to you as possible. He’s intoxicated by you, closing his eyes as he rests against your body in complete bliss. Now that he has you this close he never wants to let go; and neither do you.

“Can I tell you something?” His voice is soft, whisper like but still holding confidence; his tone never falters.

“Anything.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

Butterflies erupt in your tummy, your heart thudding in your chest as heat rises to your cheeks. He loves you. It's not that friendship kind of love anymore; it's the relationship kind. The same kind that makes your heart skip a beat and body riddle with every emotion in the book. The kind that keeps you up all night thinking about – but also helps you fall asleep, knowing he’ll be there in the morning.

And all of a sudden it seems so stupid that you were fighting those words back in the heat of the moment just a few minutes ago. He felt it too, you always knew that.

“I love you, Jisung.”

Being in love is a dumb concept. All guys suck, relationships are stupid and love is a social construct that you didn’t feel like conforming to. There was absolutely no one that you would waste your time on, until Jisung came around. What you had been looking for your entire life has always been right infront of your eyes – you were just too dumb to see it.

Maybe love is alright, after all.

‘Perfect Score’ is copyright 2020-2021 @chaangbin, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

↠ A/N this fic has been rewritten/reconcepted from my previous BTS fic Crush Culture.

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionWriters (Part 5)

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Something's Brewing, October 2021:

Hidden by Art3misiA - M, WIP - Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger lead lives in parallel - one of them seemingly going only in circles, and the other with a definite destination in mind but facing obstacles in their way. When Fred and George separately offer each of them a unique - if not morally grey - opportunity, will they accept? And what will happen if they do?

Cries by MeropeReads - T, one-shot - During the Battle at Hogwarts in the time between Snape's death and Harry coming back from the forest alive, Hermione went looking for Harry. Not wanting him to submit to Voldemort alone. What she didn't expect was to run into Draco Malfoy, for the umpteenth time that day, grieving losses of his own. Written for DFW Deal or No Deal. Prompt: Burn-Healing Paste.

Salt & Inconvenience by lavieenbelle - M, one-shot - The teeth are bothersome, the claws are a bit problematic, the temper is a mild inconvenience. But it’s her sudden infatuation with Draco Malfoy that keeps her awake at night.

Taps by MeropeReads - M, one-shot - Set in 6th year at Hogwarts, Draco was struggling to get through the day with the weight of his task on his shoulders. When he gets help from an unlikely source, it heals and hurts him at the same time. Canon compliant if you like to believe these two had something going on in sixth year. Written for DFW Deal or No Deal October 2021.

The Plan by itscometothis - not rated, one-shot - Hermione's done with Harry's whinging; she's going to prove Malfoy's not a Death Eater once and for all, and she's got just the plan to get it done.

Draco: The Pumpkin King by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - When Hermione wakes from her nape to find her boyfriend has a pumpkin for a head, will she help him to get rid of it?

DFW's Deal or No Deal: In Your Eyes, November 2021:

Came Back For You by myladymay - T, one-shot - For DFW’s November 2021 Deal or No Deal: In Your Eyes Edition; POV Ronald Weasley “Ah, bloody hell, I have to give a summary? I came home to a fucking nightmare and got in a scrap, that’s what happened! Fuck! Can I go now? I’ve got my Mum’s funeral to catch.” ——————————— “Who?” I demanded, my voice despaired. I set my tumbler down on the coffee table too hard, the glass making a loud noise that made Ginny jump slightly. Harry took off his glasses, rubbing his eye with the sleeve of his jumper. He replaced his spectacles, addressing me pointedly, “Malfoy.” The room spinned, this was a dream. No, a nightmare.

A Different Sort of Dread by itscometothis - T, one-shot - Minerva McGonagall isn't one to invade her students' privacy, but when Draco Malfoy deteriorates during his sixth year and Hermione Granger confronts him...well, this is why Minerva's an animagus, isn't it? Dramione from a beloved professor's POV. One-shot.

Familial Ties by NotAMuggleMiss - T, one-shot - Bellatrix Lestrange isn't fond of her weaknesses, but she does give in to them sometimes. Some secrets are harmless, until they come back to haunt us, but familial ties are strange bonds.

On The Outside Looking In by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Justin attends the wedding of the century.

I Spy by NotAMuggleMiss - T, one-shot - Lavender has always been more intelligent than she seemed to others, and more observant too. It was how she had accumulated so many secrets about everyone. But even she was bound to slip up eventually.

DFW's Deal or No Deal: Santa or Scrooge?, December 2021:

The One Where Hermione Finds Out by Maira - M, one-shot - Like they do ever year, the Snakes and the Lions gather together on Christmas Day for good food and a good time. Unable to be there due to a work commitment, Draco leaves gifts for his friends to open on the day. Unfortunately, Hermione accidentally finds out something she is really not supposed to know.

A Flower Made of Diamonds by Mariana_Monteverde - T, one-shot - Draco never thought he would be thanking young James Sirius Potter for making his godmother sick with a stomach bug, and yet, he will probably but the boy anything that he wants, because he made it possible for the Slytherin to spend Christmas alone with Hermione. And they needed to be alone, because Draco has a quite important question to ask her and a gift to offer…

The Favourite by Maira - M, one-shot - Hermione Granger is the owner of a small patisserie in a tiny village in France. She enjoys baking, petting her cats, and knowing exactly the right treat to gift to her patrons. That is, until Draco Malfoy comes in and messes everything up. A Christmas story of friendship, pastry, and realising that sometimes, it really is the journey.

Christmas in a War Zone by myladymay - M, one-shot - Christmas comes but once a year, despite the depravity happening outside the Order’s last safe house. From the safety of St. Mungo’s, Hermione and Draco find comfort in each other as an enemy delivers Yuletide greetings at their door.

Friendsmas by FaeOrabel - T, one-shot - Hermione enjoys yet another Christmas with her "little" family when Draco surprises her with the gift to end all gifts.

It's A Wonderful Life by itscometothis - T, one-shot - Luna's lost 50,000 galleons and Hermione's future is fading fast as the prospect of Azkaban looms before her. Overwhelmed by what seem like failures in her career, friendships, and even her marriage, Hermione can't see any way up or out of her problems. But when a familiar apparition gives her the opportunity to see life without her in it, Hermione realizes it really is a wonderful life.

Victim of Baby Kneazle by IfBrainsWereGold - G, one-shot - The one where Draco discovered he might be a cat person.

Gérard Abreo's Guide To Falling In Love by rattlebag - M, one-shot - Hermione receives a prank gift for her Secret Santa, and is determined to find out who dared ruin her favourite muggle tradition.

A Snowflake In Time by KrysKrossZee - T, one-shot - Draco had never really thought about marriage until he sees the perfect pendant and he knows that he has to give it to Hermione.

Sex Stockings by Pia_Bartolini - E, one-shot - When she told her boyfriend not to spend exorbitant amounts on her Yule gift, a solitary pair of socks were not immediately what jumped to mind as a romantic holiday present. She trailed a finger over one fluttering Golden Snitch on a velvety black field. Buttery-soft, slight halo of fiber… maybe Yak or Alpaca? As far as stockings went, these were lovely. For a Quidditch fan. Who wore trouser socks. …. Or, that time when The Brightest Witch of Her Age decided to adjust her boyfriend’s Yule present. Just a little.

The Jumper by crochetaway - G, one-shot - Draco is disappointed yet again for not being gifted a coveted Weasley jumper, so he decides to do something about it.

A Box of Chocolates by greenvlvetcouch - G, one-shot - “Are you going anywhere else tonight?” She stopped, “Uh–well, Ginny and Harry invited everyone back to their house after the bar closed. I suppose I’ll go there–or just back home.” She shook her head, “I don’t really have anywhere to be.” He seemed to study her for a moment before the red on his cheeks from the cold turned into a blush. “Would you like to have a drink? I promise it’s warm in my flat, and I might even share my chocolates with you,” he said with a wink.

DFW Tropes Competition 2021:

Long story short (it was a bad time) by Ginnysocks - E, one-shot - Were she and Draco currently shagging like rabbits every chance they got? Yes. Did they still utterly loathe each other? Also yes.

What Draco Doesn’t Know by IzzieStellar - T, one-shot - Hermione and Draco have been together for over two years now and there’s nothing she won’t do to keep their relationship safe, even if it means keeping things from Draco. *Draco does not appear in this one-shot. Only Hermione and Ron appear as they are speaking about her marriage to Draco.*

Parallels by lavieenbelle - T, one-shot - Draco just wants one thing for Christmas.

This Rings True by savedprincess85 - G, one-shot - Draco tells his kids how he met and married his wife the night before the kids leave for Hogwarts.

Waking up is the hardest part. by IfBrainsWereGold - G, one-shot - Nothing seemed to help. No matter the amount of Dreamless Sleep she would take or the litres of chamomile tea she drank in the afternoon and in the evening. The dream always caught up with her. Those dreams just might save her life.

it’s time for you to fight for a second chance by Mariana_Monteverde - T, one-shot - Losing Astoria has broken Draco Malfoy, but his wife, his beloved wife, just wants for him to be happy, and she found a way to help after she passed away. Hermione Granger back in his life.

Brooms by MeropeReads - T, one-shot - On a shopping trip in Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger runs into someone who is a smaller version of a boy she once knew rather well. Draco hadn’t seen Hermione, or his distant cousin Teddy Lupin, in years. Doing his best to raise Scorpio’s on his own after Astoria’s passing three years earlier, he finds himself finally wanting to take a chance on someone new. Scorpius however, is having a more difficult time dealing with his grief.

A Cat, a Dog & the Unimaginable by AnnaRitaLi - T, 3 chapters - There are certain steps in a relationship: 1. Fortuitously meeting your old arch-nemesis and discover he’s improved dramatically after the war & develop a massive crush which entails Auror-level snooping to suss out if he’s single 2. “Accidentally” run into him and his friends at a bar ending the evening with his tongue down your throat & do the three-day texting game for weeks before asking him out 3. Sleep together on the second date & develop an addiction to sex-escapade 4. Have massive spat resulting in glorious makeup sex and a new label 5. Move in together & get plants #plantmomlife It’s all very linear, and Hermione is ready for the next big step. No, not THAT step, but the step just before. She enlists a furry helper. Only, life isn’t always linear - it’s a multivariant regression. Luckily, a purr has healing powers too. A story in three parts.

I'm With You by OhLenaLena - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy start seeing one another behind their friends' backs and this obviously backfires.

Bound to thee by LilithShade - M, one-shot - He knew he should not desire her, for she was a Muggleborn - a lowly Muggleborn of common birth at that. Despite himself, Draco found the witch intriguing and as the years passed he had taken to observing her. She was an oddity. Beauty to behold, that was certain. Yet, that was not all that defined her. She was intelligent, defiant and undeniably opinionated. Her qualities stood at odds with all that he had been raised to believe acceptable of a woman. He found it called to him in the most peculiar of ways.

we'll always have paris by itscometothis - G, one-shot - Hermione Granger needs a refuge and she finds it in a sweet coffeeshop owned by an elderly woman with a vast array of tea and delectable pastries. Only Hermione isn't prepared to learn who exactly is baking the treats providing her solace. An ode to tea, pastries, and the magic of a coffeeshop. Yes, it's a trope, and we love it! Did you want Draco Malfoy sporting a man-bun while baking delectable pastries that melt the Golden Girl's heart? Of course you did.

Our First by FaeOrabel - E, one-shot - Draco and Hermione plan to perform a ritual on the grounds of Godric's Hallow for a surprise gift for Harry. They interpret the spell the way they want to-the way Magick always intended.

Results May Vary by AccioMjolnir - T, one-shot - Hermione finally has a date with Draco Malfoy... but the Weasley twins cause a slight problem merely hours before she's due to meet him.

This fest is ongoing.

[massivedrickhead]

Bechloe Week 2021 - Day 5

July 30th: “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Read on AO3

This is heavy heavy angst. It’s pretty sad (imo) and also kinda long. So, you know, read at your own risk.

-

With a throbbing in her hip, and a tight pain across her chest, Beca eased herself out of the cab she’d taken, and looked up at the entrance to Barden Nursing Home.

Although she visited several times a week, it seemed like they added more stairs each time she came.

“Can I give you a hand ma’am?”

“Well that depends, Raheem,” Beca said. Her voice wasn’t as strong as it had once been, but anyone who knew her could still detect the bite of sarcasm that filled almost every sentence. “Are you going to call me ma’am again, or are you going to call me Beca?”

Raheem smiled at her from his driver side window.

“Come on Mrs Mitchell, I can’t call you that. What would my grandmother say if she knew I was disrespecting my elders?”

Beca laughed and shook her head. “If you insist.” She held out an arm for him to take, and he left his cab immediately.

Truthfully, she didn’t think she’d make it up on her own anymore.

The doctor had given her a year, give or take, but she knew her own body.

This would be her last visit to Barden Nursing Home.

“Do you want me to wait with the cab?” Raheem asked when they reached the entryway.

“No, no,” Beca said. “The girls are meeting me here, they can drive me home.”

“I’ll see you next week then?”

Probably not. “I’ll give you a call.”

Raheem was Beca’s favourite driver and he happened to be the owner of the cab company, so he always made sure he was the one to drive Beca to her destination.

His mother had been a fan of hers, he’d told her during one of their first journeys, which made her feel older than she was. Or older than she thought she was. It still surprised her when she looked in the mirror and saw an old lady looking back at her.

She didn’t really recognise herself anymore.

Now that her hair was grey, her back slightly hunched, her joints sore and swollen.

They had taken her drivers licence a few years back due to her deteriorating eyesight, and her hearing wasn’t what it was.

And now her lungs were shot. Her liver. Her heart.

Her body was failing her, worsening by the day.

She was in almost constant pain, but she still had her mind. Her mind remained as sharp as it ever was.

For that, she was grateful.

Most of the time, anyway.

Leaning on a cane, with a bunch of flowers in her other hand, she made her way through the reception area.

“Morning Beca,” one of the nurses greeted her warmly. “She’s in her room today, didn’t feel like being social.”

“Thanks hun,” Beca replied. “How is she?”

“One of her better days.”

Good, Beca thought. That’s good.

If today was going to be her last visit, she wanted it to be a good one.

She knocked on door 216, and waited for a response.

“Come in,” came a voice that was both achingly familiar yet totally alien.

“Hi,” Beca said, smiling warmly as she entered the room.

Chloe was sitting in a chair by the window, a blanket over her knees.

Her once red hair was now silver, tied in a neat ponytail. She was still looking outside, but Beca knew her bright blue eyes were now milky and flat. Clouded.

Chloe turned to face her visitor.

“Can I help you?”

Beca felt something hard lodge itself in her chest.

She would never get used to this feeling. She never wanted to get used to this feeling.

She waited for a sign of recognition. A smile or a twinkle, but there was nothing.

Chloe simply looked at her with a patient curiosity.

Well, Beca thought. That’s that, then.

“I was just wondering if you would like some company? I’m new here and I don’t really know anyone.” She placed the flowers in an empty vase of water that she knew the nurses had left there for her, like they did every time she visited.

“Yes, okay. That would be fine,” Chloe said. “I’m Chloe Beale.” She held out her hand for Beca to shake.

Beca shook it, trying not to let the stab of pain show on her face at the sound of Chloe using her maiden name.

“Beca Mitchell,” Beca said, fighting the urge to cover Chloe’s hands with both of her own.

Even after all these years, Beca still wanted nothing more than to pull Chloe into her arms and kiss her.

She couldn’t remember the last time they’d really kissed. The last time they’d lain in bed together while Chloe ran her fingers through Beca’s hair. The last time Chloe had been Chloe.

Chloe’s diagnosis and the progression of her illness had been sudden and devastating and brutally quick.

It was so cruel, Beca thought almost every minute of every day, that she still had Chloe so close yet she couldn’t have been further from her.

“I’m afraid you can’t stay too long,” Chloe said. “My daughters are coming to visit later.”

She remembers the girls, Beca thought. That’s good.

Some days Chloe had no recollection of their daughters. Some days, Chloe had no recollection of any of them.

But once in a while, God, it was so rare now, Chloe would remember Beca and who they’d been together.

“Is that so?” Beca asked. “How old are your daughters?”

“Oh, I don’t know, middle-aged-ish. One’s older than the other,” Chloe said, waving a dismissive hand. “Of an age where they think they’re old but they don’t know they’re actually still very young.”

“Hmm, they must be the same age as my kids. What are their names?”

“Well there’s Blake and, um… shoot. I had it. Begins with a B…”

No it doesn’t.

“No it doesn’t,” Chloe said, shaking her head. “Hayley.”

Riley.

“Riley!”

Beca smiled. If only I could get you to remember me so easily.

“Do you have grandkids?” Beca asked.

“No,” Chloe said with a sigh.

Yes you do. You have four, and they’re beautiful.

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Beca said. “A little too much energy for me to handle these days.”

Chloe seemed to study Beca for a fraction longer.

“You know, you look a lot like my wife. Older, of course, but there’s something about the nose and the smile…”

Beca laughed because if she didn’t she would cry. “Is that right? Well to be honest I wasn’t going to say anything, but you look a lot like my wife.”

“How weird,” Chloe said.

“She was beautiful, just like you,” Beca said, fiddling with the wedding band she still wore.

“Is she still with us?”

Beca looked into Chloe’s eyes, searching for some semblance of the Chloe Beale she had fallen in love with. Searching for a glimmer of recognition. A spark. Anything.

“No,” Beca said. “We lost her a few years ago.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chloe said, placing her hand on Beca’s as if that’s where it was meant to be. “How awful for you. You must miss her terribly.”

Beca let out a small laugh and tears filled her eyes.

It was unbearable to mourn someone who was sitting two feet in front of you.

“More than anything. We had,” Beca swallowed hard but her voice still broke when she spoke again, “the best life together. She was my best friend… my everything.”

Chloe squeezed her hand. “How lucky you are to have felt love like that. To have loved so strongly that even after all these years you’re still…” Chloe trailed off and looked out of the window again.

“Did… is your wife still with us?” Beca asked, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“My… sorry, what did you say?”

“Is your wife still alive?”

“Oh, I don’t have a wife dear,” Chloe said, smiling. “This ginger is single and ready to mingle as my grandkids would say.”

Again, that knife in her heart.

Her grandkids were back, replacing her wife, and with them a spark of the old Chloe.

“Maybe you’ll meet someone here,” Beca said, the sadness taking hold of her now. Settling into her bones in the same way that the damp made her hip throb. “It’s never too late.”

“God, you’re crying, are you okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Beca said, smiling. “Just thinking about my Chloe has made me go all… well… foolish is probably the best word.”

“Your… Chloe?”

“My wife,” Beca said. “Her name was Chloe.” She swallowed as she looked at the uncomprehending face before her. “She was beautiful. So beautiful. Red hair and bright blue eyes and she was kind, and good, and safe. She was my best my soulmate. And she had a voice like an angel. I’d give…” Beca swallowed again, “I’d give anything to hear her sing again. To hear my Chloe sing again.”

“Beca…”

“Do you know what she said to me the first time we kissed? She promised I would never lose her. We were in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn and she promised I wouldn’t lose her. But that’s the kind of promise only a kid could make. They have no idea, how could they?”

“Beca.”

Chloe’s hand gripped Beca’s and squeezed it. Tight.

“My… Beca?”

And there she was. Back like she’d never gone away.

“Chloe? You… you remember me?”

“Of course I remember you,” Chloe said. Then her eyebrows furrowed, and she looked around her room. “This isn’t our house.”

“No.”

Chloe swallowed and nodded. “I’m… I’m not well, am I?”

Beca sniffed and shook her head.

“Alzheimer’s?”

“Ah ha,” Beca said, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“Like my mom… How long?”

“T-two years,” Beca said. “I tried to take care of you but then I fell and broke my hip and I just… I couldn’t manage on my own anymore. The girls insisted. You’ve been here for about a year. You… you seem happy.”

Beca knew this lucidity wouldn’t last.

Chloe would be gone again, and probably soon.

This was her last chance.

“I love you, Chloe Mitchell, do you hear me? My heart belongs completely to you. And one day… one day soon, I’m not gonna be able to come and visit you anymore. And there may be days where you remember me, but you won’t remember I’m gone, and you’re gonna feel hurt and betrayed. You’re going to think I abandoned you,” Beca squeezed Chloe’s hand again, “but I promise you, if it was up to me, I would never leave your side.”

“So stay,” Chloe said, her voice breaking. “Stay with me.”

Beca gave her a sad smile. “In a few hours, you won’t remember me, baby.”

“How could I ever forget you?”

“Mom?” A voice spoke up from the doorway, and Beca turned to see Blake and Riley standing there. “Is everything-”

“Girls!” Chloe said, brightly. “Come in and meet my new friend Beca.”

No.

Not yet.

Please, not yet.

“Your new friend Beca?”

Beca forced the smile back onto her face, and she stood up.

“Nice to meet you,” Beca said, looking into the faces of her daughters. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She turned to face Chloe.

“You’re leaving?”

“I should let you have some time with your girls,” Beca said. She took Chloe’s hand in hers, and looked at her wife for what would be the last time. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you, Chloe.”

“I’ll see you again I hope?”

Beca smiled. “Of course. You’ll remember what I said?”

Chloe tilted her head, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“It’s okay,” Beca said. “I know you heard it. It’ll come back to you when you need it.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, still confused. “Do you think… would it be okay if we hugged? You can ask the girls, I’m a hugger.”

She heard a small sniff and she saw Riley quickly leave the room.

“Allergies,” Blake said, quickly.

“Of course we can hug,” Beca said. “I’ve had a wonderful afternoon with you Chloe.”

Chloe stood, her blanket slipping off her lap, and she wrapped her arms around Beca, and Beca hugged back as tight as she dared.

She buried her face in Chloe’s neck and breathed in.

She still smelled like Chloe.

“You know Beca, I think we’re gonna be really fast friends.”

And everything inside of Beca broke.

“Hey, what is it?” Chloe said, softly as Beca clung to her and cried.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Blake said. She stuck her head out of the door and called to her younger sister.

Chloe shot Blake a look of confusion as this apparent stranger sobbed into her shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Chloe said, softly. “Come on, now, you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“I love you,” Beca whispered into her ear, choking it out between sobs. “Don’t forget that, okay? I love you.”

“Okay, that’s, um, very nice,” Chloe said.

Beca’s chest started feeling tight as she struggled to get air into her lungs.

“Why don’t you sit down? We can call a nurse and-”

“No,” Beca said, quickly, struggling to suck air into her useless lungs. “I just need… in my bag.”

“Here,” Blake said, handing her her inhaler.

“Thank you,” Beca said, taking several deep puffs from it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry, Chloe.”

She looked at Chloe again, and knew with certainty it was for the last time.

She had gotten a couple of minutes with Chloe - the real Chloe - this afternoon and that was more than she could have hoped for.

“It really was lovely to meet you Chloe,” she said.

“Yes, you too,” Chloe replied, although she sounded less than convincing. “See you another time?”

“I look forward to it,” Beca said.

“Riley, why don’t you make sure… Beca, here, gets to where she needs to be,” Blake said, looking between her parents with pain in her eyes.

“Sure,” Riley said.

When they were away from the room, Riley pulled her Mom into a hug.

“That was a rough one, huh?” Riley asked.

“Unbearable,” Beca said. “She was… she was back. I had her back for like, five minutes. And then…”

Riley kissed her on the head. “Come on, I’ll get one of the nurses to get you some tea and when we’re done we can drive you home.”

Beca frowned. “It’s Thursday. Is Blake not doing dinner?”

“No, she is, but you don’t usually feel like company after a bad visit,” Riley said.

Beca waved a hand of dismissal. “I wanna spend some time getting climbed on by my grandkids. Will your new lady be joining us?”

Riley blushed like a teenager, despite being in her forties. “Not tonight, Mom. It’s a bit soon for a family dinner.”

“Oh come on, you’ve been dating for months! I want to meet her, I have so many embarrassing stories to tell!”

“I know you do,” Riley said. “Which is why we’re gonna wait a few more weeks before we scare her off. Don’t worry, there are endless amounts of family dinners ahead of us for you to embarrass me at.”

Beca smiled. “Okay,” she said.

She hadn’t told the girls she was sick. They had enough in their plates with Chloe, and she didn’t want to add to it.

When the time came, yes, she knew they’d be hurt. She knew that hurt didn’t even come close to covering it. They had all but said their goodbyes to Chloe, but they had no idea that Beca would be beating her to the afterlife.

She knew if she asked them, they’d rather she told them.

It was cruel to blindside them, but in a way wasn’t it crueler to have them watch her slowly waste away in a hospital? To leave them saddled with medical bills that their inheritance would only just cover?

Because she knew her girls, they wouldn’t just let her slip away. They’d want her to fight, and Beca was too tired for fighting.

No. She wouldn’t do that to them. She had already written letters for all of them - including Chloe - and she had left instructions with her solicitors that they would get handed out after her death.

In her will, she’d left most of her money to her daughters and Blake’s four kids, along with a lump-sum donation to Barden Nursing Home.

Her affairs were in order.

The girls didn’t need to know.

“Mom? Are you ready?”

Beca smiled as her daughters approached, and she gratefully took Riley’s hand when she offered it.

She was quiet on the drive back to Blake’s house.

“Sure you’re up for dinner, Mom?” Blake asked, glancing at her in the rear view mirror.

Beca smiled and nodded.

That night she basked in the attention of her grandkids.

The two twin boys - Jackson and Christopher, aged seven - kept trying to explain their favourite show to their grandmother.

They kept acting out scenes, speaking in odd voices, shooting each other with fake guns.

Beca tried to follow along but really she just wanted to watch them play.

The youngest - Davey, four - sat comfortably on her lap.

“Gram read it?” He said, holding up a book.

“Again?” Beca asked.

“Please?”

“Okay,” she said.

“Grandma!” Christopher said, pulling her attention back to him. “Grandma! Look! Then the bad guys do this!” He aimed a finger gun at his brother and deepened his voice. “Prepare to die!”

“Ah ha,” Beca said.

“Gram,” Davey tugged at her sleeve and then placed a hand on his book.

“Sorry,” Beca said, picking up where she left off from.

The noise and distraction was welcome.

It kept Beca’s mind from wandering. She needed a few hours where she wasn’t mourning Chloe.

It was working until ten year old Anne walked into the room, looking far too somber for any ten year old.

“Who’s upset you then?” Beca asked. “I might be old but I can still throw a punch.”

Anne smiled, but only just. “Is grandma better yet?”

Beca frowned. “No, honey. I’m sorry.”

Anne had been the apple of Chloe’s eye right up until the moment she started to forget her.

Blake and her husband David had made the decision early on that the kids shouldn’t visit Chloe. It would be too hard for them to see their grandma and have her not recognise them.

“Is she going to get better soon?”

Beca let out a small sigh. “I don’t know,” she said.

Anne’s face fell, and Beca’s heart broke.

She wished she didn’t have to leave these kids behind.

“Listen, your grandma loves you very much. And so do I. And we always will, no matter what.”

Davey started to fuss on Beca’s knee, and she turned her attention back to him.

“If I wrote grandma a letter, would you give it to her?” Anne asked. “I don’t want her to think I’ve forgotten her.”

Tears filled Beca’s eyes, and she smiled. “Of course. But you should give it to your Mom or aunt Riley. They’ll see her before I do.”

Anne nodded, and went off to her room.

The rest of the night continued the same way every Thursday night dinner did.

Blake complained that Beca ate too little and that her husband ate too much.

The twins would devour anything left too close to them, and Anne would pick out any bit of vegetable she found, no matter how small it had been cut up.

Then Beca would attempt to help with the dishes until she was told to cut it out, and Riley would drive her home.

Before she left that night, she hugged and kissed each of her grandkids, and told them all she loved them beyond comprehension.

She kissed Blake’s cheeks - standing on her tiptoes to do so - and briefly cupped her face in her hands. She told her she loved her too.

She patted David on the arm.

“You’re a good man,” she said. “You’ll take care of them.”

“Jeez, Mom, what’s got you so morbid?”

“Just the joys of ageing,” Beca said.

She didn’t know why she was feeling so sentimental that night, but she put it down to the emotion of the day.

In the car, Beca was quiet again.

“Something’s up with you,” Riley said.

“Today was tough,” Beca said, her head on the window. She turned to look at her daughter, and she seemed to transform in front of her eyes and back again. “Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your mom?”

“You, every day since I was born,” Riley said, laughing as she ran a hand through her short, ginger hair.

“This new girlfriend of yours,” Beca said, “is she nice?”

“What? Yes, Mom, of course.”

“She treats you well? She’s kind? She doesn’t blow up at wait staff or lose her temper in traffic?”

“She’s great,” Riley said. “Look, you can meet her soon, okay? She’s just a bit nervous around parents. She… she didn’t get on great with her own. They weren’t cool when she came out.”

Beca let out a sigh. “Poor girl. You’d think my generation would have grown out of that. Apparently not. As long as she makes you happy, and treats you well, then that’s all that matters.”

Riley laughed. “What, are you trying to make sure I’m married off before you kick it?”

Beca laughed too. “No. I just want you to be happy, my girl.”

“I am,” Riley said. “And not because I’m in a relationship, but because I just… am.”

Beca smiled. “Good. I’ve… I’ve had a very good life, Ri. And I don’t think I realised how good it was, how lucky I was, until your Mom got sick. I wish I could go back and just… enjoy it. Savour it. Those moments I spent with your mom where we would just… talk. And be with each other. I wish I could tell myself to appreciate each and every one.” Beca wiped her eyes. “Promise me you’ll do that?”

“Mom, you sound like you’re giving me some goodbye speech.”

Beca smiled and shook her head. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Riley said. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” Beca said.

They pulled up outside Beca’s home.

“You want me to walk you in?”

“I’m not that old yet. I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do. I love you too, Mom.”

Beca smiled at her daughter, and leant across the car to kiss her cheek.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Beca said. “I need to pop into town and pick up a prescription.”

“I’ll take you.”

Beca smiled. “You’re a good girl. See you tomorrow.”

Riley waved and watched as her Mom walked into her house and shut the door behind her. She drove to her girlfriend’s, her heart heavy with sadness for her parents.

Maybe tonight she should tell Sarah that she loved her.

It was true, she had always just been too scared to say it.

She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of anymore.

Beca’s house was as quiet as it always was these days.

She made a cup of chamomile tea, and popped open the Thursday PM slot on her pill caddy. She took the handful of pills and swallowed them with a mouthful of tea.

Then she settled herself in her favourite armchair, and turned on some music.

She was tired.

Really tired.

It had been such a long day.

She felt a tightness in her chest, but it wasn’t any worse than usual so she thought nothing of it.

The song changed and the opening notes of Titanium played out.

This was considered an oldie now.

Beca smiled, and closed her eyes as she remembered the first time she sang that song with her wife.

God, what a life they’d had.

She didn’t open her eyes again.

[mwolf0epsilon]

What is everyone's greatest fears and insecurities? (I promise this isn't bully anon and I have no ill intent.)

Going for the big guns uh? Buckle in then, let's see what kind of ammo the Fractos has to work with:

Henry Stein - His anger issues. Henry's childhood and adulthood were fairly turbulent because he's prone to getting fits of rage (an issue that was exacerbated when he was drafted to fight in the second world war). There's never been a moment in his life where he wasn't aware that he can hurt people very easily, and it scares him that this is possibly all he's good at. It's why drawing and gardening meant so much to him... For once he could make something good instead of destroying it...

Sammy Lawrence - That he's a weak-willed follower rather than the master of his own fate, untrustworthy and insignificant. His role as the Prophet disgusts him because it's everything he strived not to be, and the hypocrisy of it all left him questioning his identity and sense of self. What is he if he's not Samuel Lawrence Jr? Can he go back to calling himself that? Or is that just another name he can't ever return to ever again...? Just... Who is he?

Jack Fain - Being unable to protect himself and others, no matter how much he tried to be there for his friends. The sense of insignificance and powerlessness left him fearing that every single one if his efforts is in vain.

Susie Campbell - That she's not good enough. Always second best to someone more talented and beautiful than her. That no matter how hard she tried, she should have just given up and let the world step all over her.

Norman Polk - That he's nothing more than an unwanted and unlovable creepy brute. As a tall bulky man of his age and background, Norman's always had a lot against him. But, even when snapping at people or fighting back just as hard was warranted, he never let himself stoop so low. Becoming the out of control and monstrous Projectionist wounded him deeply...

Allison Pendle - That deep down she's just as selfish and careless as Joey. They got along fine because they had a level of understanding about certain arts they were mutually interested in... Maybe that means she's rotten like him. A danger to others if she ever becomes as jaded as he did...

Thomas Connor - The worst part is the guilt. If he hadn't been complacent to Joey's will to begin with, none of this would have happened. He's stuck in a cycle of grief and what ifs, afraid that he's damned everyone because of his own hubris as a prideful engineer.

Shawn Flynn - His willful ignorance will haunt him forever. He knew something was wrong, but he'd rather ignore it and make a quick buck than actually stop to think. It only struck him that he was in too deep when Grant began to deteriorate, and by then it was too late to stop. If only he hadn't been so selfish and cocky...

Grant Cohen - That he deserves all of this in some twisted terrible way. His life has always been one string of misfortunes after another. Maybe he was a bad person in another life. Maybe he didn't show enough people kindness in this one... Maybe he's just destined to suffer. He's always been and always will be unable to save himself...

Buddy Lewek - That he's too weak and cowardly to be of any help. Everyone has been doing so much to keep him safe, and he doesn't have the strength to do the same for them. He feels guilty about it, but he just... He just can't... He's afraid and he wants to go home. He wants his mom... And he feels bad that he's this pathetic when his friends need him most.

Abby Lambert - Regret, guilt, sorrow... She knows them all to well. Most of all she knows hatred the best... She hates that she was so bad a judge of character that she couldn't see just how bad things got. Just how far Joey would take it... She was blind to it all because she considered him a friend, and she'll never forgive herself or him for it...

Doc Hackenbush - That he didn't leave when he could have. He was aware and against the results of the experiments, but he was also curious. Morbidly so. He could have helped stop all of this before it got to this point... But instead chose to stay quiet. A choice that will haunt him forever.

Bertrum Piedmont - That he'd been too proud to realize he was digging himself and Lacie an early grave. What hurts most now isn't even the state he's in... It's that he damned his closest friend to this terrible fate as well...

Lacie Benton - That she couldn't convince Bertrum to not accept a contract with Joey. She knew something was off with the man... She just couldn't imagine this being how it ended... Feels like she failed her dearest friend.

Emma LaMonte - Her biggest regret is not telling her family how much she appreciated them. She'd been a stuck-up unpleasant and difficult lady all her life and now... She fears she'll never have a chance to make amends.

Detective Sinclair - That he failed Joey in some way, thus made him more prone to becoming less interested in being a law abiding citizen. He knows that something broke when he failed that case... That somehow he taught that young and impressionable puppy-eyed boy that justice only matters as long as you're caught... He's a failure of a detective and all of this is his fault...

The Ink Demon - That his imperfections are the reason everyone is suffering. That he's not good enough to deserve to live. That he's a monster that taints everything he touches... The list goes on...

[bicycle4two]

say you wanna, say you wanna be || Sam Drake x Reader || Chapter 4

Summary: Sam isn't looking for a girlfriend and, frankly, you don't think you'd be a good one anyway, but you two aren't some one-night stand and it's been a long time since either of you thought of each other as a convenient booty call. This is something more, something the two of you didn't realize would be. It's uncharted territory. And there is no other choice but to figure out how to navigate through it together.

Pairing: Sam Drake x Fem!Reader

Tags(ish): developing relationship, implied/non-explicit sexual content, romance/fluff/hurt/comfort, age difference (though reader’s age is not stated), switching povs (second person reader, third person sam), no y/n but reader has a nickname

C.1 || C.2 || C.3

Chapter Four:

Here’s the thing.

Sam always knew that he and his brother were destined for something great. And, well, he can’t say that greatness didn’t fall on them. Yeah, sure, he spent thirteen years in jail. Who hasn’t? But despite that little hiccup in his life, Sam thinks that he’s done pretty well for himself. He’s discovered a lost city or two, with and without his brother, held some artifacts that were rumored to only be from stories, and tried one of the cigars from Sully’s collection. He even has a place to call his own now, his name on the mailbox downstairs, a doorman who greets him.

Honestly, it’s all he’s ever wanted growing up. More, even. Back in Panama, all he thought he wanted, besides, well, getting out, was to find Avery’s treasure with Nathan. It was that thought that kept him going most days. The idea of finding four hundred million worth of treasure! That was the dream. He and Nathan could finally settle down, or, rather, their version of it. Because they weren’t going to have a normal life. That was never in the cards for them growing up, but it was a nice thought, not having to worry about food or a place to stay.

And Sam hasn’t had to worry about that for a long time. He felt empty after Libertalia, that his story was only just beginning while Nathan’s was coming to a close. There are still things he wants to see, to do.

Time, he realized long ago, was something that he could lose so easily and he wasn’t going to let that happen again.

So he went on more adventures, climbed higher mountains, picked up little trinkets (a habit he got from his little brother, starting his own little collection) along the way to bigger, better things. (It’s just a shame that some things were destroyed along the way, like statues and buildings, but what can he say? It runs in the family.)

But tonight, after a long flight and an uncomfortable chair, all Sam wants to do is go to her and crash on her bed.

Because although Sam has a place to call home, a big apartment that’s filled with his stuff, clothes, souvenirs, a fish…it feels empty. Cold. Even if he had all the money in the world, Sam can’t shake off that feeling that he shouldn’t have too much. That in just a blink of an eye, all this could be gone. Because that has happened before—moving from place to place, packing what you can immediately get your hands on.

Sam wants riches, searches for them all over the world, but deep down he knows he doesn’t know what to do with them. That even if he dreams of more, he only knows how to live with enough.

So, he only has one pillow, a blanket. A towel and an extra, shampoo (the kind that has body soap mixed with it. 2 in 1! What a deal) and deodorant. Clothes, he knows to get the sturdy kind, the kind that won’t rip easily, that stains won’t be too obvious on. Shoes, too. He gets the ones that have good traction, that won’t chafe his feet, won’t deteriorate when wet.

The fish, Jim Hawkins—Jimmy was an attempt to liven up the place. To make it seem homey, to keep him company. But there’s only so much you can do with a fish and Sam can’t deck out Jim’s aquarium any more than he already has. He’s afraid that something would fall on the poor thing, that maybe there’s more inside Jimmy’s castle than meets the eye.

“Welcome home.”

“I’m ho…ome?” Sam drops his bag to the floor, more from being too tired to carry it than shock. He’d resigned to seeing her tomorrow, that it was too late to go over now, but there she is, curled up on his couch, toes peeking out from under a throw blanket. It’s hers. Sam recognizes it easily. It’s the same one she has thrown over her arm chair, the same chair Sam likes to lounge on when he’s found a good book to read.

“How was your trip?” She looks so cozy on his couch. Hands wrapped around an orange mug he’s never seen before, book on her lap. She doesn’t look like she going to get up and Sam can’t blame her. He sort of wants to curl up next to her, somehow squeeze his large frame in the remaining space. “Get me anything nice?”

“I, uh,” Sam’s swallows, blinking. “I’m not dreaming, right? Like, I didn’t get knocked out when I fell off the mountain?”

“You fell off what?” She’s moving to stand up, mug thankfully placed back on the table despite her haste, and Sam doesn’t want her to do that.

“No. No, don’t get up.”

She gets up anyway, blanket falling to the floor, and, oh god, she’s wearing pajamas, oranges printed all over her cotton shorts. She’s by his side in seconds, hands reaching up to his face, bringing him down to her height so she can get a better look at him.

“Ouch,” Sam says, the movement too fast for his aching body. His muscles are sore and the trip home didn’t do them any favors. But she thinks that it’s her fault, that she’s hurt him and her hands are in the air, her eyes wide with both surprise and concern. “It’s not you. It’s just…,” Sam hates to say it, makes him feel old, but, “My back. I hit the ground pretty hard.”

“I feel dumb for asking…but are you okay?” Her hands are back on him, her touch gentle and giving comfort Sam didn’t know he needed. She doesn’t seem to know what to do first, how to check for injuries, but the thought is enough, her being here is enough, makes him feel better.

“Well, I’m alive,” Sam brings up his hand to push her hair away from her face. It’s soft, slightly damp from a shower. Oh. He probably needs one of those. “Nothing a hot shower can’t fix.”

“Can you…,” she hesitates, sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and Sam bends down on reflex, damn his back, and kisses her. She relaxes, sighs, and pulls away, blushing. “Uhm, I, huh?”

“Can I…?” Sam prompts, smirking.

“Now I’m embarrassed to ask.”

“C’mon, princess, don’t leave me hanging. What is it?”

“Can you, uh, do you need help?”

“Do I need help?” Sam grins. “In the shower? Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

…

Sam mentioned it to Nathan before, when they were in Italy, trying to find their way into the Rossi Estate. When you’re locked up with no hope of being let out, it’s the little things you miss the most.  

And Sam didn’t think that there was much to miss anymore now that he was out. He can ride his motorcycle anywhere he wants, go to his own bathroom any damn time he pleases, shower, eat, sleep, drink without permission. He can call Nathan and Sully and Elena without request, without reason. He can stay indoors or go outside without a schedule. He can live. The simple joys of being alive, Sam is able to enjoy them now, in much a greater magnitude than he has ever before.

Citrus, he remembers telling Nathan, he had missed the smell of citrus. The novelty of fresh fruit. The refreshing scent, the taste. The sweetness on his tongue.

“Clementine,” Sam gasps out without thinking, his mind stuck on things he missed and maybe this last trip had gone on longer than he liked.

He’s brought back to earth when the movement stops, even when he adjusts his grip, tries to get her going again, to move her hips the way he knows they both like. He opens his eyes to look at her when she doesn’t budge and she’s frowning at him, there’s a wrinkle between her eyebrows. An angry look.

“That’s not my name,” she says and it looks like she’s going to get off of him and, goddammit, why does she keep doing that?

“What?” Sam’s confused, blood not quite in his head.

“You called me Clementine.” Her tone is upset. Hurt. Sam’s never heard her speak like this before. “Who the hell is that?”

“Shit,” Sam breathes out. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Yeah. No shit.” And there she goes, lifting herself off of him as quickly as she had sunk onto him half an hour ago. Sam lets out a grunt. His ribs are bruised yet she flattens her hands on his chest to support herself. She’s doing it on purpose. She was careful before. “I didn’t think you’d be the type to do this, but I guess I was wrong.”

Sam’s cold without her, for more reasons than one, and he knows that if he doesn’t say something, anything, now, she’s going to be out that door before he can even finish saying Hail Mary. And no amount of prayer, to any sort of god out there, is going to bring her back.

So, Sam swallows down his pride, and says, “It’s you.”

“Yeah, I heard you say that before. ‘Just you.’ How can I-I be so stu-stupid?” Her voice wavers and shit she’s crying, isn’t she? He made her cry.

“And I mean that. Hey, come here.” Sam doesn’t want to hold her too tightly, afraid to hurt her, but he has to know that she isn’t going to leave, that she’s going to stay and listen to him. She turns to look at him, tears flowing down her cheeks, nose red, lips quivering, and Sam’s heart just about breaks. He did that. He’s never felt more like an asshole. “It is just you. It has been since the start. I promise.”

She doesn’t say anything. Just waits. And Sam feels like he’s back in school, standing in front of his class, giving a presentation.

“I, uh, did I ever tell you that I was in prison once?” Sam manages to get out. He always knew he was going to have this conversation with her, knew that with how their relationship was going, he couldn’t keep her in the dark much longer, but he had hoped that he would at least be wearing pants for this.

“No,” she breathes out, wiping her nose with a tissue she got from his bedside table. Huh. Was that tissue box always there? Anyway. “But I figured.”

“The tattoos?”

“No,” she says again and by some miracle there’s a smile on her lips. It’s small, gone with a blink of an eye, but Sam knows what he saw, has all of her smiles memorized. “Someone like you just has the talent of getting into trouble.”

And Sam can’t help it. He lets out a laugh because it’s true. She knows him.

“Well, I can’t deny that. But anyway,” He clears his throat. Was talking always this hard? “When I was in prison. In Panama—that’s important. This was when I was in Panama. I was there for thirteen years and, Jesus, time moves differently there. It’s like the days can’t go by fast enough but next thing you know a year has passed by, two, three, and you’ve lost your youth because some asshole decided to get all stabby with the guard.”

The words are spilling out, like he can’t get them out of him fast enough. Because he needs her to know, to understand.

“It wasn’t my fault. Well, okay, I was there on purpose at first, but those thirteen years were like a punishment for what that asshole did. I was supposed to die there. We were escaping, we were almost there, almost free, but I got shot and I fell. The guards found me and got some ‘doctors’ to patch me up. They made sure that if I was going to die, I was going to die because I rotted in that hellhole.”

Sam can see that she’s listening, that she’s hanging onto every word so he continues, because now that he’s started, he can’t stop.

“I was only in my twenties. There was so much I wanted to see, to do. Nathan and I had plans, dreams. We were going to go all over the world. But I was stuck there. Alone. And no one knew that I was alive. It’s like I stopped existing. Sometimes.” The words are stuck. But Sam forces them out. “Sometimes I, uh, I wished it were true, that it would be better if I was just gone. That I had just died back there.”

She’s crying again and Sam wipes her tears for her, brings her closer to him. Because these tears aren’t because of him anymore, but for him. And isn’t that something? Having someone cry for you.

“You don’t realize how much you have until everything is practically ripped away from you. I didn’t have any privacy. I…I couldn’t take a leak when I needed to. You just end up thinking, cuz there really isn’t much to do but think, about what you had. How life was good. And I, I just missed everything. I missed Nathan, of course, he’s my little brother. But, it’s the small things, too. Like riding my bike into the sunset. Grass beneath my feet. A glass of cold water. And…”

“And?” She asks, eyes focused on the gunshot scars on his abdomen, fingers tracing their shape. It tickles.

“And the smell of citrus.” He makes her look at him because this is important. The most important thing. “I missed the smell of citrus. The taste. And when I was in Japan, I thought about it again. The things I missed back here, back at home. And it’s citrus—you. I missed you so much, you wouldn’t believe it. I could have called Nathan. Elena, even. To come over here but I called you because,” Sam clears his throat once more. “Because I wanted you here. I had hoped you would be here when I came back. And you were.”

She’s quiet, eyes searching. And Sam’s poured out his heart and soul and now he’s got nothing else to do but wait and see what she does with it. Is this what being honest is like? Being vulnerable? It’s torture. Sam hates it. But he can also think of worse things and that keeps him rooted in his spot, trying to keep his face as honest as he can. Years of hiding is finally coming to bite him in the ass.

“You must have been so lonely.” Is what she says, hands back on his gunshot wounds. She’s transfixed. Almost like she’s been wondering about them forever. And maybe she has. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Eh. It’s all in the past,” Sam says with a shrug. Because it is in the past. He’s made his peace with it. Mostly. Some things are harder to shake off than others but he’s okay now. He’s built from strong stuff, a sturdy breed. “But, y’know. You’re, uh, killing me here.”

“Killing you?”

“Cuz I don’t know what you’re going to do,” Sam admits. It’s all truth from here on out, huh? “I can’t read you right now. Are you gonna leave? Punch me in the face? Report me? Please don’t report me. I’d really hate to go back to jail. Nathan would kill me. And I still have a few years left to go, y’know?”

She smiles and Sam realizes that he was rambling. He takes a breath, feels himself calm down. Damn. He needs a cigarette. Maybe two. Are his hands shaking? They’re definitely shaking.

“I think you have more than a ‘few years,’” she says, fingers tracing scars. Sam twitches from her touch. Is this what it feels like when he touches her back? “Especially if you stop smoking.”

“I’ve heard it all before.”

“You should start listening.”

“Ah. Someday.” Sam takes her hand in his, mostly to stop her stop her from tickling him, but also to bring them back on topic. Because she still hasn’t said anything. Nothing to give him an idea where they go from here, if there is somewhere to go from here. “So?”

“So…” She leans close, talks in a whisper, like if she speaks any louder, something might shift, break this bubble that they’re in. “So, you have to tell me what you want, Sam.” It’s an echo of what he said to her months ago, a vulnerable, fragile moment just like this. “So I know what to give you.”

But this time is different because she’s always been more generous than him, always been willing to give.

And Sam’s always been someone to take what he wants and he’ll be damned if this time is any different.

“It would be nice if you stayed.”

“Stay? I can do that.”

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Chapter 5

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Sam’s apartment was inspired by @missdictatorme​ ‘s post