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thecleverdame · 4 years

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Gods of Twilight - 22

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking. This chapter does contain some non-con elements.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

You’re not sure where you are. You think you’re awake, blinking several times but there’s nothing except all-consuming darkness.

“H-Hello?” you call out, throat on fire. You’ve never been this thirsty in all your life. There’s a haze of confusion, the heat of your own body, the sensation of blood boiling in your veins, but the air around you is frigid.

Are you dead? Where is Sam?

Fear blooms in your chest as you pat along the floor, feeling for any sign of your surroundings. There’s cold stone under your palms. You feel further along, trying to find a wall only to realize there are bindings around your wrists. You panic, pulling both arms toward your body as a heavy chain rattles cold and heavy over your legs.

“Help me!” You shout, curling into a ball, trembling in fear. “Is anyone there? I need help!”

A thousand thoughts collide at once. Have you been kidnapped? Are you dead? Where is your husband? All you want is Sam to appear and explain what’s happening.

“Sam!” you call out. “I’m here!”

For a long time, you sit there and cry, the panic coming in surges, bringing with it sweat and heat and desperation. You pull at your bonds, tugging and thrashing until you think you’ll break your arm. There’s a warm wet trickle sliding down your right arm and you know it’s blood, the cuff around your wrist has sliced through the skin and if you keep fighting the chains you’re afraid of doing irreparable damage.

During the worst of it you writhe and scream, sure that you’re in the pits of hell, locked away, alone and chained for all eternity. At some point, you wear yourself out like an exhausted toddler after a fit and fall asleep on the ground in a cold sweat.

When you wake the second time, you’re prepared for your surroundings. But you also feel different. There’s an ache in your stomach as if you’ve eaten something that doesn’t agree with you and surely you have a fever.

Somewhere in the distance, there’s the dripping of water falling. Looking toward the sound you focus in and see a faint flickering in the distance, the only sign of life so far. The discomfort in your stomach spreads upward, bringing with it nausea and sense of...longing? No, that’s not it but it’s a strange need sparking to life.

The sound of the water grows louder. The longer you stare into the distance the more you realize you can see a far off glow of a torch. Your wrists are sore from trying to escape but you suddenly feel strong. There’s no explaining it, but a determination sets in and you’re sure that you can free yourself.

“Pull yourself together,” you whisper. You stand, slapping your cheeks to focus on the task at hand and then you push forward with every last vestige of strength within you. The metal holds and for a moment you think your wrist will snap, but instead, the cuffs crack. First, one, then the next, leaving you breathlessly victorious in the dark.

Carefully you move in the dark, mindful of not tripping. But as you walk you discover that you can in fact see. It’s muted, but you can discern the outline of the stone that covers the floor and the doorway near the end of the room.

There’s a long, winding hall in both directions with half-burnt torches lighting each direction. You look both ways, unsure of where to go, but fear guides you to move. Right seems like as good a choice as any.

After walking for what seems like a lifetime, you come upon another Y. One of the halls is lit, the other ominously dark, ready to swallow you up. Closing your eyes you send up a prayer and follow the flames. The tunnel curls away into infinite nothingness.You shudder, feeling your brain starting to go hazy, searching for a way out. Should you go back?

Eventually, the tunnel opens up into a tall room and you’re met with the sight of an enormous statue. You recognize it as a larger version of the same statue in the Great Hall. This is King John, and to his right is a stone carving of Queen Mary.

Sam’s parents. You’re in the catacombs of your own castle.

What could this mean? The implications are endless, but at least you haven’t been kidnapped. You’re thankful for that.

A few fears whirl to life in the back of your brain. What’s happened to your husband? However you ended up here, Sam would certainly never allow you to be chained up in the bowels of the castle. The longer you walk, the more certain you are that he’s fallen victim to some cruel fate. You pray he’s alive, tears swelling up and dripping down your cheeks.

There’s a faint memory and then the realization that the last thing you recall is pregnancy. You were round as a house and excited to spend the afternoon walking in the countryside with Sam.

You pat your flat stomach, sighing heavily in confusion. Nothing makes sense, up is down. The very universe seems to have turned on its head. A sudden, spine curling pain rips through your stomach, sending you to your knees as you moan in agony. Something is wrong. You’re dying, you’re sure of it.

Taking a moment to recover, you manage to get back on your feet and keep moving. Scrambling up two sets of spiral stairs you find yourself in one of the lower passages of the castle. While you never spent time in the catacombs themselves, you explored these areas when you first came here. Spent dusk till dawn tiptoeing around and memorizing each nook and cranny.

There’s a window ahead, but no light shining in. It must be night time.

You walk on, careful to remain as quiet as possible. The circumstances in which you awoke are bizarre and you suspect that there are villains afoot.

You can hear voices, a distant conversation between two guards discussing the bosom of a servant girl. It’s strange, you’re sure they’re far away, but you can still make out every word. Slipping down a narrow back passage you move stealthily around the outside wall of the castle, only to have it spit you out into the Great Hall.

Peeking around the corner you check to ensure that no one is lurking. It must be the wee hours of the morning and the castle should be asleep.

You’re met with a welcome sight. Dean. You’ve never been happier to see him, at least he’s a familiar face.

“Dean!” you hiss, walking toward him.

He turns, eyes bulging at the sight of you. It seems to take a moment for him to realize it’s you, hands falling from his hips, mouth gaping open.

“What are you doing?” he rasps, taking a careful step in your direction. “You freed yourself?” His eyes dart to your bloody wrists and tattered nightdress.

“Someone took me prisoner! Chained me up in the catacombs!” You sputter, fresh tears pooling in your eyes. “They left me to die down there. And my baby, do you know what happened to my baby?”

“Oh, no,” his face falls, eyes fluttering closed as his fists clench.

“Where is Sam?” You inch closer. “Is he alright? I have to let him know I’m alive.”

“He knows,” Dean explains gently, holding out a hand like a trainer working with a wild horse. “He put you down there himself...for protection.”

“What?” You choke, your body going cold. Of course Dean would take joy in pitting you against your husband. “What are these lies?”

“You need to remain calm,” he whispers, swallowing hard. “Why don’t I send a guard to find Sam and we’ll call a maid to clean you up.”

You look down your skirts, covered in mud and grime. You can only speculate what the rest of you must look like.

“Wait,” your mind is racing. “You said Sam put me down there? He chained me?”

“There is so much you don’t understand right now. He only did what he thought was best. Let me have someone find him, he can explain-”

“No,” you panic.

Is it possible your husband has turned on you? What is it that you’re not remembering?

“Talk to him, he can explain-”

“Where is my son? Did I give birth?” you whisper, the swell of emotion aching in your chest. “Did he die?”

Dean blinks, eyes wrinkling as he nods.

“You have a daughter and she’s in perfect health.”

A daughter. You were so sure the child was a boy and yet his words ring true somewhere deep inside.

“Will you take me to her?” You move closer, reaching out to your brother-in-law. “I want to see her. She must need me.”

“She’s fine,” Dean counters. “You’ll see her soon, I’m sure.”

“Please,” you implore. “Please, I know you hate me but you have to tell me what’s happening-”

You’re interrupted as pain shoots through you stomach. It’s similar to your monthly bleed but magnified a thousand times. As the spasm passes you break out in a sweat, glancing at the roaring fire.

You stare at Dean thinking a thought so foreign, so treacherous, that you can scarcely believe it’s yours. But you can’t deny that you find him...attractive. There’s a pull, a lust that creeps out of the recesses of your mind, popping up out of its hiding place.

And you swear, although you know it cannot be, that you can smell him. Tipping your head from one side to the other you examine his face. He’s frozen, watching you have a life altering realization as you breathe in deep, taking his scent into your lungs.

Your heart speeds up, chest rising and falling faster as you slide closer.

“What is wrong with me?” Squeezing your eyes shut, you pull Sam’s face to the forefront of your brain.

Sam.

Sam. Your husband. The father of your child...and yet Dean is right here and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by the idea of you eyeing him like a choice cut of meat.

“We shouldn’t be near one another.” He gulps but doesn’t move away.

“I feel,” you swallow, a trickle of sweat rolling down your temple. “I think I have a fever.”

That has to be it, you’re sick. It’s the only explanation for these adulterous urges.

“You’re in heat,” he breathes in through his nose, pupils widening. “Or close enough.”

“What?” you murmur, not really listening. “I am rather hot.”

“You don’t-” he goes silent when you glide closer.

You arch upward, eyes fluttering closed at the heat of his skin and the scent of him surrounding you, wrapping around and crawling inside where you’re vibrating with need. You reach up, sliding a hand over his chest and he grabs your wrist.

“Stop.”

“Why?” you ask.

“You’re married to my brother.”

“I…” the thought gets lost somewhere in the lust induced haze. “I know I should stop but I want to be close to you.”

He’s looking down at you as his tongue darts out over his lower lip. His head dips down, your mouths a moment shy of connecting.

“Take your hands off her.”

Sam’s voice is a low growl. You pull back from Dean to find your husband standing in the middle of the room. Both of his hands balled into fists at his sides and his eyes narrowed, focused on the two of you.

“Brother,” Dean swipes a hand over his face as he turns away.

“Sam,” you heart swells, then shatters at the sight of him. He’s furious, and he should be. He just caught his wife in the arms of his brother. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. I’m so sorry. I can’t think. I’m overcome with this...fever.”

Dean retreats further away from you and the pain rips through your abdomen. You cry out, falling to your knees, howling and clutching your stomach.

“She’s in heat.” Dean says that word again and it dawns on you what he means. But it can’t be. You’re human.

“Please make it stop,” the pain grows stronger, and you drop onto your side, lying on the floor and writhing desperately. “What’s happened to me?”

“Stay away.” Sam thrusts a finger toward Dean. “You’ve done enough damage.”

“I did what needed to be done,” Dean spits back.

“And you would have again if I hadn’t come upon you. You would have fucked her in the name of salvation.”

“Watch yourself!” Dean steps toward Sam but you draw their attention, letting out a blood curdling scream.

“Am I dying?” you cry, looking up at your husband.

“No,” he whispers, his face morphing from anger to something softer. Kneeling down he scoops you up in his arms. “I’ll take care of you.”

While it’s not quite the same as being near to Dean, Sam holding you, pressed up against his body, quells the cramping. You claw at his shoulder, bury your face in his chest.

“I don't understand,” you whisper, tears sliding down your face.

“I know.” Sam walks away from Dean. “Let me make you feel better, then I’ll explain everything.”

#alpha!sam x omega!reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut

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honestgrins · 5 years

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Fighting Fate || Klaroline

Klaus had heard the warnings, read the legends, and sought them out anyway. Caroline, though, doesn't care what the Fates say; as far as she's concerned, he made his own bed.

They stared down at him, their blank expressions unnerving. Near a thousand years he'd been searching for these wizened crones, and Klaus still managed to be surprised at the sheer power radiating from ones even more ancient than he. Summoning the Fates had been something of a folly for him over the centuries; prophecy was nothing more than a tool to manipulate vulnerable populations needing to believe, much as he'd done in spinning the sun and moon curse.

But once he'd come across just the right coven of witches, the spell was too tempting to pass up. To know one's future? To have the endgame surely in mind, soon to hold it in his grasp? With both his curse broken and his father dead, Klaus had thought New Orleans to be his new conquest. The city, however, had proven to be less diverting than originally promised. Instead, he'd taken to traveling the world, openly exploring places where he'd once only hid.

It was in Athens, of course, when he happened upon the temple where a particularly helpful witch shared all she knew about the Fates her coven had served for generations. Within weeks, he'd seduced his way into their embrace and found himself in the center of a ritual. Candles burned away, his chest streaked with blood as the witches chanting around him suddenly disappeared, leaving him in the temple bathed only in moonlight. He heard them before he saw them, the utter silence in which they existed louder than any pitiful, human heartbeat.

"The Hybrid," they said as one, their voices an odd harmony that grated his ears. "We have watched you for a long while."

He grinned, his fangs dropping with pride. "So you've heard of me."

The tallest one pinned him with a cruel glare. "Invoking power such as ours is foolish for an immortal. To live so long, surely prophecy will only strangle you."

"So harsh," the largest one chided, her smile kindly maternal. It sent a shiver down his spine, though Klaus would never show it. Even a predator knew when he was being hunted. "He went to some trouble to see us, the least we can do is fulfill his quest."

Be careful what you wish for, Rebekah had spat when he'd told her about finding the temple. You just might get it. He knew she feared another vendetta, another excuse to cling to their family tightly while he began yet another war for power.

He couldn't explain it, the burning need to know what comes next.

"Be sure, child," the oldest one croaked, not looking away from her knitting needles. "Once you know, you must grapple with the certainty of your fate, still knowing you cannot fight it."

Blood boiling, Klaus fought back a primal snarl at their condescension. With a sharp smirk, he nodded. "Tell me. What is my fate?"

She felt warm. Blinking her eyes open, Caroline took in the early morning sun streaming into the fancy hotel suite. The silk pillow was soft against her cheek, but nothing felt as good as the hand coasting along her bare hip. "Good morning, creeper."

"Creeper?" Klaus dropped slow kisses to her neck, his scruff leaving delightful tingles on her skin.

Turning onto her back, she let a hand card through his hair to hold him close. "Don't pretend like you weren't watching me sleep. I will take it as a win that you're too exhausted to bring out that sketchbook you always seem to have handy in my bed."

He smirked into her lips as he urged her into a deep kiss. "You do make a fantastic muse, love. Especially like this, soft and languid in your repose." Brushing his nose down her neck, he landed on her collarbone and the spray of freckles usually hidden from him. "It's been too long," he mourned quietly.

"We barely made it five years this time," she reminded, voice gentle as her hand resumed scratching through his curls. "And you still haven't told me why you crashed my gala."

It was a triumph, if she said so herself. Her most high-profile event to date, everything went flawlessly - including the Original Hybrid sweeping her off her feet at the end of the night, dressed in a tux tailored so perfectly she almost felt bad tearing it off him.

Almost.

But she knew Klaus, and he rarely made an appearance unless something was wrong. Thirty years as a vampire, and he'd somehow become the constant she would carry throughout eternity. Decades could pass, and their eyes would still meet across a room like they were back in Mystic Falls. They were strangers yet kindred spirits, and the fun was in the tug of wills between them. If he wasn't being overtly megalomanic and even dared to charm her, it wasn't hard to fall into bed with him. She actually kind of loved their dynamic once they were away from the supernatural drama and the more rigid human ideals she'd tried so hard to abide by.

With him, Caroline could just be. For the girl who always tried too hard, Klaus was something of a relief.

Except when there was a game being played, then he was a chore. As his hand trailed down to her breast with his predator's gaze heavy on her face, she knew all too well a game was afoot. She tugged on his hair, making him sit up with her. "What's going on?"

"I don't know what you-"

"Klaus."

Sighing, he pulled her into his lap and smiled softly when she allowed it. "You're too clever for your own good, sweetheart."

"I know," she shrugged. He was always good for an ego boost, and she felt particularly aglow after that fourth round. "Now, tell me."

He brushed her loose hair back from her face, his own expression troubled. "Do you believe in fate, Caroline?"

Taken by surprise, her mouth drops open in thought. "I...don't know. It certainly feels like someone out there is waiting to drop bad news every time something good happens, but usually, it's just you or the Salvatores dropping some fresh hell on my doorstep." She bit her lip. "But do I think there's some larger plan I'm destined to fulfill? God, I hope not. I'd hate to let all my therapists' work to lessen my type-A anxiety planning go to waste because I was meant to be the first vampire to die by panic attack."

With a dark chuckle, Klaus rubbed her back comfortingly. "I've met them," he murmured. "The Fates. I asked them for mine, and..."

Hands shaking, she cupped his face, scared at the sudden steel in his eyes. "Is this why you came to me? Because of whatever prophecy they gave you?"

"I need you to come with me, sweetheart. This fate," he paused, anger and fear and determination thickening the air between them. "It cannot come to pass, but it will if you stay here."

Caroline backed away, not thrilled when he clenched his hands around her wrists. "Klaus, this is not what we agreed to. I'm free, remember? You honored my wish to live as I chose, with the occasional visit and absolutely no commandeering."

Pain crushed his whole face, and she felt helpless at what he must have heard. "This is me honoring your wish to live," he promised - just before he snapped her neck, and everything went black.

You will lose that which you hold most dear, over and over and over again. Nothing lasts forever but you.

When she awoke for the second time, any warmth she felt was pure rage boiling her from the inside out. The bed was just as soft as the hotel's, but she recognized the scent and peculiar movements of the private jet they were actually on. Oh, she was regretting that trip to Paris now, if only to allow herself to pretend that Klaus hadn't freaking kidnapped her.

But he did.

Caroline didn't know how she'd make him be the one regretting things, not yet. However, she thought she had a strong start with 'getting the hell away from him.' It would take a call to Bonnie, maybe getting Kol or Rebekah to run interference for her, then a whole lot of luck to skirt past his many spies all over the world.

And maybe she wouldn't punish him forever, but that was a problem for her future self. Her present self wasn't all too keen on cutting him slack anytime soon. Still, she forced herself to hide the true depth of her anger when he somewhat abashedly handed her a blood bag. Petulant and hurt, he would buy. He probably even expected an escape attempt or two.

She could be patient, and she would wait for the opportunity that might work. Whatever fate Klaus feared, Caroline had no intention to stick around and find out.

#kcauweek2019 #klaroline #klaroline drabbles #day one: mythological creatures #the fates #fic: fighting fate #almost everything #angst #seriously i'm so sorry #i didn't mean for it to get angsty #but klaus is klaus #not the brightest bulb when it comes to keeping caroline around

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evangelene · 6 years

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Strain 2.

Summary: When you have a disease that could kill you if you love someone who doesn’t love you back, you cut yourself off from the world. And then there’s the boy who throws every survival instinct out the window: and Taehyung has set his sights on you.

Hanahaki: a disease in which someone coughs up flowers when experiencing one-sided love.

Part One / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five

"Chrysanthemums!" He shouted, fully believing he was right for all of three seconds before doubt crept in and you saw his change of mind in his facial expression. "No--succulents! Ah! No. It's uhh.....uhmmm...ro...Roses! It's Roses!" Taehyung slammed his hands down on top of the library table in overzealous excitement at having gotten the right answer. As a result, the librarian gave him a very loud shush, and a warning glare from her desk. He bowed his head with a winced apology that didn't seem to make her any happier.

Shame at having to be the person seemingly "with" the loud troublemaker crept up your skin and reddened your cheeks. "Yes." You hissed, shaking your head as you glared at him. "Roses are the rarest strain of Hanahaki. And? What else about it?" Your glare dared him to bring his voice louder than a whisper.

"It--" You stared at him, waiting for Taehyung to fully load his answer in his mind. Honestly, watching him study was entertaining enough--you were always able to see the moment the answer came to him, as well as when he knew he was fucked. "It's one of the most painful, it's part of the killing strands but it doesn't kill instantly. There's....50 of the 58 cases...no--59--"

"It's 58."

"50 of the 58 reported cases have ended in death." Pulling the answer from the depths of his brain seemed to exhaust him, because he was leaning forward to rest his cheek against the table.

You nodded, scanning down to the next question on the mid-term study guide you'd made for yourself. Well, it had been for yourself and yourself alone before Taehyung begged you to help him study and you agreed--if only because teaching someone else was a great way for you to retain the information.

"Name three strands that have a death rate under 1%."

"Lilies." Duh. You raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue. "Violets, and....um....daff--no, daisies."

Another curt nod from you as you flipped to the next page. "Correct. Hmmm, let's see....What was the first reported case of--"

You were cut off by the sound of Taehyung's ringtone. Both of you flinched as he hurriedly shot upright and fumbled with his phone, trying to shut it off before the librarian figured out it was him (once again) disrupting the peaceful atmosphere. With a sigh, he stared at his screen.

"Is she looking at me?" He whispered.

You kept your eyes glued to the study guide, well aware of the several pairs of eyes drilling holes through both you and Taehyung. "Of course she is." You murmured. "You moron."

His thumb padded the screen, until, inadvertently, he cured under his breath. "Sorry, I have to end this early."

Worry lit up from the inside out and you felt yourself gripping the table in an attempt to catch a glimpse at his phone. "Is Sae okay?"

Taehyung's instantaneous nod calmed you as he shook away your concern--this was Taehyung you were talking about; if it concerned his sister he would be equally as freaked as you were. "Oh yeah, she's fine. It's just my girlfriend--I forgot we have a date at 5 tonight."

For a moment, everything was normal before the word "girlfriend" clicked in your mind. Then you were openly gawking at the boy in front of you, confusion written across every surface of your expression.

He looked up at you as if he didn't just say that he, a boy with confirmed Hanahaki in his genes, had a girlfriend. "What?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose, staring up at him through your lashes. "Are you fucking serious? You have a disease that causes you physical pain when you experience a one-sided love and yet you're just blindly walking into a relationship?" You paused, sitting upright. "Wait a minute, on top of that, you're spending time alone with the bitchy girl in your class--who wants nothing to do with you, thought I'd remind you of that--and you didn't tell her? Dude!" You smacked his forearm. "How the hell do you still have a girlfriend?"

He shrugged, waving you off as he continued to give half of his attention to you and the other half to his text conversation with his mystery girlfriend. "She knows I have friends that are female. She's fine--you're being too dramatic."

You felt the intense urge to smack Taehyung with your heavy, senior-level horticulture textbook. At the same time, it was weird not to have Taehyung's full attention--usually you were the one ignoring him. Not that you cared. But curiosity overwhelmed the forces in your brain that tried to stomp it away.

Who was this girl?

He must have hit send, because he was setting his phone down and lifting his gaze back up to you. "Besides, she knows I love her and only her. I'm willing to risk a little pain if it means I'm not spending my life alone."

The part of you that was animated by Taehyung dropped down into your stomach as you stared at the boy. How nice it must have been, to be able to fall in love without fear of dying.

Without fear of your Hanahaki killing you.

For a moment, you let yourself wonder what strain he had--maybe daffodils, peonies, something sweet, soft and bright. Probably yellow, he seemed like a boy whose aura just radiated yellow.

"What about you, Y/N? Have you ever dated someone?" He pursed his lips at you, cocking his head to the side before nodding to himself. "Well, I suppose you don't get close enough to people to fall in love."

"No. I have not." You said quickly, half angry and determined to shut down any further conversation--well, you would have, were Taehyung to be perceptive enough. Honestly, you figured him to be incredibly smart, but sometimes the boy was just outright idiotic.

"Ah, I'll have to set you up. I have some really great friends you know I--"

You closed your book, rushing to gather your things up into your bag. You were sloppy and quick--not nearly as organized as you'd like to be, but you'd have to fix that when you got back to your apartment. For now, you were in too much of a hurry. "Well, I have to go."

"Thank you for all your help." He grinned up at you as if this was normal, as if you always ran away from him at the speed of light. Well, thinking back on it, you probably did. He was irritating. "Same place, same time tomorrow?"

You rolled your tongue across your teeth as his phone lit up with a new text message. "We'll have to see."

But you knew you'd cave, if only because Sae would beg you to help him again.

~.~

Kim Saeyoon was still a senior in highschool, but she visited your campus often because, like her brother, she wanted to attend the university. You didn't really know what she wanted to do with her life, probably because she wasn't sure either.

"Teaching or something along those lines." She'd told you once. As fitting as it was, you felt that Sae was destined to be more of a principal type--a counselor or someone that taught students in a more unconventional way. After all, everything about the Kim siblings seemed to be unconventional.

Despite her age, Saeyoon felt older to you--far more mature than her male counterpart. There was an inexplicable aura she had that radiated love and warmth, and, as a result, you supposed that it made you want to protect her. It also helped that she was the only one that knew about your...situation.

"Your mother...what was she like?" She asked, dumping the pushpins out of her shoes as you stared down at her with a frown. You forgot how absolutely childish and dramatic high school females could be--you thought that shit was something saved for dramas and manga. But, you also supposed that you weren't really involved with people during your highschool days--well, not involved enough to know if the thought was true. The first time you caught her de-pinning her shoes after school, she'd given you such wide caught-in-the-act doe eyes and told you not to tell your brother. You promised if only because you really didn't want to talk to said brother.

Though, because you were silently brooding and angry, you came earlier and earlier to pick her up from school in the hopes you'd catch the culprit. But, alas, it just became far less frequent, seeing as you were known for being subtle.

"She...she was a lot like you actually." You murmured with a chuckle, bending down to help rip a stubborn pin from the sole of her shoe. "She was kind and strong, in a way that made everyone listen to her. She had a weakness for cute things though; especially the kind of cute that awoke her maternal instincts. I think that's why she liked my father so much. She always told me 'Y/N, the man was a child when I first met him. He was so immature that it was cute.'" You chuckled, remembering your mother's stubborn expression as she told you not to fall for the same tricks she did. Back then, they were still close--they were still in love--he was just irresponsible. You still remember the time he decided he wanted a pet and brought home a stray cat without telling your mother. She had been so livid that your father slept on the couch for a week, before your mother fell in love with the cat and named it Doghouse. "She would have really liked you."

"I think I would have liked to meet her too." Saeyoon slipped on one shoe, testing the waters before putting on the other.

"Why the sudden curiosity?"

"I mean, ever since you told me about...what happened...I just--I don't know. I think its fun to see how parents and their kids match; what traits are pulled from what parent and so on. You sound a lot like your mother."

"How so?"

"You, too, have a weakness for cute things." She chuckled, linking her arm through yours. "But, then again, so do I. That's why we're friends right?"

"I'm not cute."

"Bullshit." You'd heard Saeyoon swear many times, but it always looked and sounded wrong coming from her. She was such an angelic personality that it was strange and foreign to have such demonic phrases passing her lips.

You squeezed her arm, grinning at her.

"See--cute." She made a face at you that made you want to squeeze her cheeks. "It's so nice to see you smile. I always feel like I'm getting a treat; not many people get to know this side of you."

"There's no one besides you and Anne."

Sae's face shifted to the sky, as if that could transport her love for the older woman directly to her. "Aw, speak of another cute woman."

"I know, right?"

"So adorable." Before she could continue, you heard the intake of breath that had you stopping immediately to twist with her towards the grass--you hands holding her hair off the back of her neck as her body shook with the onslaught of coughs. Your free hand rubbed circles into her back as impossibly white petals spilled from her mouth--getting caught by the wind only to drift down the street.

"Do you want me to go get you some water? Just nod or shake your head--don't try to speak to me." You whispered, tilting yourself just enough to see her face.

"N-No."

"I told you not to speak."

She coughed on a laugh, one stubborn, huge petal falling as she spit to the ground. "But it's over." She grinned up at you, her cheeks red with the effort of producing flowers. "Besides, my strain isn't always painful--just strange."

You wanted to smack her, but you felt like she was too fragile for something you normally reserved for her brother. "I love you, but you are frustrating."

She rolled her eyes and pinched your side. "Tell me about it." Sae giggled at the sound of your high-pitched squeal as you jumped back and away from her. "Thank you, Y/N."

"For what?" You stared at her like she just told you the sky was hot pink.

"For being my friend."

The stupefied expression on your face didn't disappear, only intensified. "Of course? Are you okay? Are you sure you didn't cough out some of your brain with those flowers?"

She chuckled. "It's a lot for you to be my friend, you know? For both of us."

"So, did you ever think about confessing to him?" It was easier to change the subject than for you to wallow in your feelings--to get all sentimental and mushy when you've been shoving those parts of yourself inside a closet for the past five years.

For most people, such a touchy subject would cause them to stop in their tracks--squeeze their heart and force more petals from their throat. But that was why you got along with Sae so well, she just kept walking and pursed her lips at the horizon line where the sidewalk met the sky. "Not particularly. I mean, I've thought about it--but, for some reason, confessing is a lot more terrifying when you know the answer."

"I think it might heal you, actually."

"Me too." She murmured, her hand slipping down to wind her fingers through yours. "I'm just working up the courage--I'm not brave like you are."

"You're braver." You shook your head. "Far braver than I could ever be. I think that you can do it, hell, I can see you doing it with that damn smile on your face."

Her cheeks reddened as she ducked her face behind a falling chunk of her hair. "Ah, you think too much of me."

"No. Taehyung talks about you as if you are the absolute world. I didn't get it at first, but, after meeting you, it makes complete sense why he thinks so highly of you. You are amazing, Sae."

She stared at you through the spaces of her hair, her brow furrowed in affection. "I hope that one day you can fall in love and have a happy ending. If anyone on this planet deserves that, it's you."

You made a face at all the gushy talk, grimacing into the distance. "Never mind. I take back what I said. You're awful."

She only laughed.

~.~

You stuffed your book into your bag, running your hand along your face as if that could make the exhaustion from the day go away. Closing your notebook and slipping your pen into its proper place in your backpack, you pushed your chair back to stand up only to have someone pull out the seat next to you and sit themselves down, placing their foot behind your chair to prevent you from leaving.

You stared at the unfamiliar presence, annoyance in your raised eyebrow.

"You're Y/N, right?" She was pretty, not Sae pretty--but seeing as how you were incredibly biased, you were sure no other female would compare to your best friend. Dark hair, long lashes, nice nails that had no hints of trauma from being chewed on the daily. She was even skinny as hell to boot, with legs for days and a face that read angel but screamed devil. But again, you were biased--pretty faces generally came with demons chained up beside them.

"Can I help you?"

She pressed her lips into a line, her eyes raking you up and down as she made her own opinions about you--similar to the ones you made about her. The only thing was, you weren't looking through bitch colored glasses that decided how worthy you were of breathing the air next to her.

"We have a reputation to maintain, you know. He's here because he needs to become popular and work on his voice--he's going to be an idol you know."

"Yeah, I think you've got the wrong person."

"Y/N? L/N, Y/N? Taehyung talks about you all the time." She pursed her lips. "I don't get it."

"Yeah, no. I don't either. If anything I would like to figure out how to make it stop. So if you'll excuse me." You tried to back over her foot but the bitch was surprisingly strong for someone who looked like sitting on her would snap her in half. "Okay, now you're just pissing me off."

"I'm just trying to have a conversation with you; that's all." She grinned, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I want to find out what kind of person my boyfriend has been hanging out with. Like I said, he has a reputation to hold himself to."

"Ah." You nodded your head the pieces clicking into place but refusing to settle. The same Taehyung that cried at seeing a picture of a puppy was dating this...this...well, this. "You're the girlfriend--the one that's supposed to be super sweet and amazing and 'omigosh here look at her Y/N, look at her face isn't she beautiful? And she's so good to me'" You mimicked Taehyung holding out his phone to you; except for your bored expression was a pisspoor reenactment of his excitement. "But, you must have changed since the two of you met in high school if you're bothering to talk to me about reputations, huh?" You chuckled. "Does he know this side of you?"

"I haven't changed; we all just have different sides to ourselves, don't we?"

"Mm. No. I think you're just what I would call two-faced."

"And you're a bitch."

"Yes I am." You sighed. "Look, Hyoori?"

"Hyeri."

"Hyeri, I'm not denying what I am--so one point for me. Two, I don't give a flying fuck about Taehyung. If you want him not to talk to me, how about you go tell him that so maybe I can get some peace and quiet, huh?" With one forceful shove, you finally managed to push your chair back just enough to stand up, unsurprised to find the girl following suit.

"Maybe I will."

"Great. Please do." You threw your hands up in the air. "Are we done here?"

"I just want to clarify that this isn't because I think that someone like him is capable of falling in love with someone like you--I'm not worried about you as competition, honey, I'm worried about you ruining his reputation."

"You mentioned that. Again, I don't care. Man, both of you lovebirds just can't hear a damn word I say, can you?"

"Is there really a need to be so rude?"

You let out a bark of a laugh, shaking your head. "Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?"

"What?"

"Nevermind. You're really an idiot."

"And you're a freak." She paused, cocking her head at you. "But you know what; I bet you're like Sae."

You slung your backpack on your shoulders, your eyes narrowing on the woman before you.

"I bet you have Hanahaki." There was a dangerous glint in her eyes that had something slightly less than fear bubbling in your chest. "My mom's a psychologist. She says people who've contracted the disease behave similarly to you. Maybe you don't have it, but I think you know you're going to get it."

"I don't--"

"What's the big deal about some flowers? Not like you're going to die from it, huh? Only 2% of the population or something like that actually dies from--"

"Shut up."

It was 40%.

There were thorns strewn across the bathroom tile, bits of flesh that shouldn't ever see the light of day stuck to the edges. The pink petals of the flower were now dyed a browning red; you didn't think you'd ever burn the image of your mother's lifeless eyes--

"I don't have it." You snapped, "But I don't think you have the right to make so little of something you obviously don't understand. So, if we're done here, I'm leaving. See ya around Hyoorin."

"It's Hyeri!" She shouted, angering the librarian at her volume.

"Same thing." You snorted as you picked up speed, walking fast enough that it didn't feel like running away but it didn't feel like a calm and even pace either. It was a fight or flight response that was broken, some mixture of in-between that you couldn't comprehend. You couldn't go back to your apartment yet; you felt the pinprick of tears in your eyes, the blooming sense of panic in your chest and you knew you wouldn't make it there in time anyways.

No matter what you did, the haunting images kept overlaying with your reality and you swore you felt something sharp in the back of your throat.

Where did you have to go? What were you going to do?

Your hands shook, even with your white-knuckled grip on the straps of your backpack. With the effort it took just to breathe and walk at the same time, you were forced to stop underneath a streetlight in order to get oxygen to your brain. It was a fruitless effort to stop the tears that were already falling and the sight and feel of what you'd forced down for so long had you choking on air.

Before you could get away, hide yourself from the sight of anyone else foolish enough to walk outside at night, you felt arms around you and the warmth of a muscled chest on your shoulder blades. You let out a god-awful screech, flailing your arms as you wheeled on your attacker with every intent of using everything on you to commit murder.

But, luckily for you and your police record, Taehyung had his hands around your wrists before your fists could make contact with him.

You stared up at him, frozen in place at the sight of his own heavy breathing. Did he run to catch up to you? How long was he following? Or did he just see you across the street and run to meet you? Why didn't you notice him? Why did you want to notice him? You were sure that he was the last person you wanted to see--hell, he was the last person that you wanted to see you crying; and you hated crying in front of anyone and everyone.

Even Sae.

He seemed equally as stupefied by the sight of you like this, his mouth fish gaping as he tried to figure out what to say. Eloquently, the words Taehyung chose were: "I just....Hi."

"Let go of me." You whispered, hating the way it hurt to get the words out. Despite your effort, you couldn't figure out how to rip your arms from his--hell, you couldn't even figure out how to move them.

There was still blood in the sky.

"I don't want to."

His words knocked what little air was from your lungs. "Then don't look. Please." You hated the way your voice cracked, the way your lips pressed into a quivering line and your hands shook in his grasp.

Instantly, your face was forcibly slammed into his chest, his arms around you so tight that it felt like there was a building--if felt like you were in a place where no one could see, not even him. For the moment, you fooled yourself into believing that you were in a place safe enough to break.

"I won't." He murmured into your hair, holding you even as you shuddered in his grip, even as the tears started to flow unbidden and you let out a cracked sob into his shirt.

For the first time in a long time, you stuffed your pride--your fear, your hurt, and your anguish--somewhere accessible, letting it roll out of you into the screams and painful sobs that you let out into his chest. Taehyung seemed to swallow them all, radiating warmth back to you that could only come from him.

It was obvious he had no idea what was going on, what crazed happenings occurred to make you this way. He was dumb--dumb in all the right ways. And so, like it was natural for the two of you to be embracing in public, he rested his chin on the top of your head and waited until your sobbing calmed enough for you to understand his words.

"Do you want me to call Sae?"

You let out a small noise that didn't particularly answer his question.

He chuckled, the sound and the sensation of the vibrations on your skin soothing some of the shake to your hands. "That isn't helpful."

"You're not helpful." You whispered like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

"I know!" He laughed to the street light. "I don't even know what's going on--that's why I thought I'd ask you if you wanted me to call my sister. She's better with stuff like this...and...Well, you like her better than me so...god I'm just not good at comforting people."

"No." You shook your head, unintentionally nuzzling deeper into him. "You're a natural. You're doing great."

"Really?" His arms gave you an instinctive squeeze that had you doing something as stupid as lifting your snotty face from his shirt to grin up at him with one last stuffy hiccup.

"Yes really. See?" You pointed to your face, laughing with how utterly stupid you must look to him. "I'm smiling."

Your eyes were puffy, swollen with the exertion of crying, so you couldn't see his expression--you were sure you didn't want to anyways. But the awe in his voice struck something in you that suddenly made it seem like the safety he had built with his grasp was dangerous.

"This is the first time I'm seeing it."

"Just this once." You chuckled, rubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. "I'm making an exception because I'm not in the right state of mind. Tomorrow I'll kick your ass for scaring me."

"I like your smile. It's pretty."

Thump.

You stared at his shoulder, your eyes widening as you gripped at your chest. Curling your lip, you shook your head and smacked him hard enough to separate yourself from his arms. "I changed my mind; you deserve to be hit now." You hissed, elbowing him when his grip lingered on you and you felt the sudden burning urge to both run and laugh at the same time--if only because he was flashing you that happy square grin, glad to see you back to normal.

~.~

You were studying in the light of your apartment, legs criss-crossed on top of your bed with a pencil in between your lips as your fingers moved across the keyboard to find the perfect phrase for the rough draft for your thesis. Suddenly, your phone buzzed loud and unexpected, scaring the shit out of you as you nearly flung your notebook across your room. After the momentary heart-attack, you turned to stare at the name on the screen.

Your hand snaked out to quickly snap it open, your thumb turning the speaker on so you could continue to work with both hands while talking.

"Sae? What's up?"

You could hear her coughing on the other, awakening your instinct to worry to the point that you stopped what you were doing and nearly throttled your own phone.

"I--" Another cough on a curse; you could hear her shifting. "I just wanted to talk to you."

"Are you alright?" You were already eyeing the door, mentally calculating how long it would take you to throw on pants and get to her place.

"I'm fine." The words relaxed you enough to stop creating an escape plan, not enough to stop you from checking the time to see how late it would be when you got there. "Taehyung and Hyeri are just fighting again and I'm tired of it. Talking to you calms me down."

"Do they fight a lot?" You shifted to stretch out your legs, letting loose a yawn to the ceiling.

"They have since college. It's really nothing new, but ever since Taehyung's horizons have broadened and he's started talking to...to..."

"It's okay; I know the nickname, Sae--I won't take offense."

"Ever since he's started talking to 'the campus bitch' Hyeri hasn't been keen on him doing what he likes anymore. She would rather him spend more time with her and her crowd."

"Mm. He will again. Once the thrill of annoying me gets old."

"I'm not so sure about that. You're too awesome to only be a phase."

You chuckled, bending over to grab your notebook off the floor--though it was difficult seeing as your balance was awful and you almost face-planted into the ground. "Gee, thanks Sae."

"How are you though? Taehyung...he told me that last week he saw you crying?"

You swore under your breath, angrily kicking your sheet off your sweaty legs. "That's because he's a nosy fuck."

"So you were crying."

You only let out a grunt, clicking on the dictionary.com browser.

"And you didn't think to tell me because...?"

"I don't like drama. It creates unnecessary emotion and tension. Taehyung's girlfriend visited me in the library and I just--I was reminded of my mother."

You could practically hear Saeyoon sit upright, her worry creating a crease in her forehead. "What did she say to you?" It was angry; much like you would be if Sae were in your position. But, seeing as the unfortunate one was you, you could care less.

"It's fine Sae."

"What. Did. She. Say?"

You sighed, shoulders sagging as you scribbled down the obscure word which was just right for the sentence of your thesis. "She said that I'm a freak and I probably have Hanahaki because apparently my behavior is typical of Hanahaki patients."

"And?"

"I told her to shut up."

You could hear Sae's hand tighten on the phone. "You had flashbacks, didn't you? That's why--"

"Sae, its fine. She's just got her nose too far up her own ass to know the ways of the world--it's my fault for not knowing we apparently still abide by the classist systems of highschool."

Sae growled as you tapped back to the research article on your screen.

"I wish it was you dating my brother instead of her. She's become such a bitch."

"I never can get over you swearing."

She chuckled. "I'm going to kick her ass."

"You couldn't kick a fly so sit your butt down."

Her laughter made you feel the need to put the phone just a little further away just so you didn't burst an eardrum. You pulled up another new tab, searching the reference that the article you were reading had used; it looked like it'd be more helpful than the damn article itself.

"Honestly." Sae started once her laughter had calmed. "You're amazing, Y/N."

"Am I though?" You made a face at your computer as if Sae could actually see you.

"You are! You know exactly what you want to do and who you are--you've got this whole map laid out for your life and, meanwhile, I'm just sitting here in love limbo, doomed because I can't even figure out what I want to eat for dinner nevertheless what I'm going to do forever."

"No one does one thing forever." You chuckled. "You'll find what you want eventually--you're still in highschool; Jimin will just be another passing phase."

"Mm. I don't know. I'm indecisive and quiet--I get scared easily and I just....you know, just the thought of growing up is more terrifying than Hanahaki."

"You have never been quiet, don't give me that."

More laughter that boomed throughout your apartment. How a tiny little thing could produce such a noise was far beyond your capabilities of understanding.

"That's because it's you. You're the exact right person to be my friend. You're what I need to speak up and what my brother needs to calm down."

You cringed at the mention of Taehyung, remembering your face in his chest and your fingers in his shirt. You wanted to remember the Taehyung that you hit with your textbooks, the Taehyung that you flung soup at and screamed to leave you alone--not the one who made the world a safe place.

You didn't need safety; you needed a damn line in the sand drawn between you and the opposite sex.

"I think...." Sae said finally; you hadn't even realized there had been a lengthy pause--you were too focused on trying to focus on your paper instead of memories of tears, blood and the smell of Taehyung's cologne. "I think I'm going to tell him."

"Jimin?"

"Yes." It was practically a whisper, as if she was afraid that, if she spoke too loud, the man in question would hear her confession all the way across town. "But only if you promise to be on-call to cure my broken heart."

"Do you want a gallon or a quart of ice cream?"

"A gallon."

"What flavor?"

"Neapolitan."

"Ah." You nodded to your computer, for some reason still believing that the phone had magical powers to allow her to see you through the speaker function alone. "Yes, I should have known. You have a hard time deciding things--nevertheless what flavor. Might as well just pick the one that has all three."

Her laughter was grounding enough for you to refocus on your screen. "Exactly."

~.~

You felt your phone buzzing in your pocket as you walked. But, just as you reached back to pick it up, the weight of a body slamming into yours stopped you from being able to do so. There was only one person cheeky enough to do so and know full well that he was about to get slapped.

"Y/N!" Taehyung all but screamed in your ear as his arms wrapped around you and he spun you in a tight circle that felt entirely unbalanced. The second you were set down, you tried to move away but wound up crashing back into him on unsteady legs. The guy had wrecking ball strength and not a clue about how to use it.

"Damnit, Taehyung." You snapped, glaring at him as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, squinting to get your swirling vision to focus on the missed call; it was Sae. "What the hell is your problem?" You glared at him, pressing the redial button as you brought your cell up to your ear.

He only seemed to bounce with excitement, grinning at you from ear to ear. "I have good news! Really good news!"

"You passed your test?" You raised an eyebrow at him, somehow managing to keep the frown on your face even though the sight of a happy Taehyung was infectious.

"No--well yes, but no! It's even better than that!"

"Y/N! My Hanahaki is gone!" Sae screamed through the cell before Taehyung even got a chance to get the words past his lips. You nearly threw your phone from the pain of high-pitched, over-excited Saeyoon--nearly, because soon your excitement was on a level that was almost higher than her brother's; almost. Taehyung was crazy.

"What?!" You nearly snapped your neck to meet Taehyung's stare, your eyes widening on him as if he could hear what was being said through an object smashed to your face.

"Is that Sae?" He asked, stepping even closer in an attempt to hear the person on the other end of the line--despite the fact that you were repeatedly smacking him to keep him as far away from you as possible.

"Yes." You hissed to him. "No, not you. Sae--Sae shhh. You're brother's here, yes I'm happy but I'm now deaf in one ear." You tried to calm to hyperactivity around you, but the excitement and happiness in your chest kept building and building to the point that you would have willingly accepted Taehyung swinging you in circles, as long as it would release some of the energy around you.

"He was going to tell you before I even got the chance?" Saeyoon screeched. "I'm going to kill him!"

"Why are both of you shouting?" You screamed back into the phone despite your words, laughing when Taehyung's arms wrapped around you only because it was painfully obvious that he didn't know what else to do. Taehyung was great at a lot of things, but patience wasn't one of them--he needed to be right there, he wanted to hear what was being said by all parties and he didn't want to ask for it. As a result, he had his face pressed to the side of the phone that wasn't flush with your cheek.

"Yah!" you shouted. "Taehyung, get off me!"

"I want to be a part of this too!"

"Sae!"

It was all screaming, all happiness and bubbles and the things that made pastel colors possible. You couldn't care less about the fact that a boy was being overly touchy with you, you were so ecstatic that you fully believed that there wasn't anything that could pull you down from your high.

"I'm so happy." You murmured into the phone at Saeyoon's lengthy explanation of how she confessed, how she felt little when he rejected her kindly, how she was afraid that she was going to instantly puke lilies only to find that there wasn't even that scratch at the back of her throat; hell, she and Jimin were still friends. The confession was days ago, but she wanted to make sure that it was gone before she finally told you; she knew you'd worry otherwise. "Sae, I'm really so happy for you."

"Don't cry--if you cry I'm going to cry." She murmured.

"I'm not crying--TaeHYUNG." You screamed, shoving him off of you when his head went to rest on your shoulder. "My god, get the fuck off of me!"

"But I want to hug the person that cured her."

"It wasn't me." You snarled.

"It was totally you." The fact that this was coming from Sae had your mouth instantly snapping shut and your eyes glaring bullets through Taehyung. "I became brave because you made me feel like I could. I was able to move on because I knew I have you in my life, Y/N. You cured me--you cured my Hanahaki."

"Well--"

"Okay, don't get all technical on me and let me have this sweet moment with you." She chuckled over the phone, causing you to make a face that you knew full well she couldn't see but Taehyung could. As a result you could feel him getting closer and cuddlier.

"Come collect your brother please." You hissed, trying desperately to elbow him away. "He's getting on my nerves."

"He's happy." She laughed, the sound once again making you wonder how such a small bean could produce a sound only elephant's feet could make.

"Sae! Tell her about the celebration!" Taehyung was back, this time one arm slung around you instead of two--as if that made it any better.

"Ah! Yes! This Saturday we're going out to eat at a local bar."

"Bar? Girl, how old are you--"

"Shh. It allows 18 and under, get a grip. I'm not drinking, just celebrating with those that can." You could practically hear her giggle and you knew she could tell that you were inwardly face-palming.

"Alright, Saturday it is then." You grinned into the phone.

"Saturday! Ah--" You could hear someone grumbling on the other end, somewhere behind Sae. "--I have to go, my teacher's wondering what's taking me so long in the bathroom. See you soon!"

You locked your phone, looking up only to meet Taehyung's stare. The fight or flight instinct within you went haywire--something locking up in your joints as you froze. When did he get so close? Did he not have a different cologne? It was oddly fruity. Then, as his face spread into a big, doofy grin, you clicked back together and shoved him as hard as you could away from you.

"What the hell is that face for?"

"I'm just happy. That's all."

You frowned at him, your fingers clenching tighter around your phone. "Ew."

"You're amazing; you know that, Y/N?"

"Double ew." You shook your head, pausing before slipping your phone into your back pocket. Oh yeah. Saturday.

Your birthday.

You'd almost forgotten--perhaps it was because, for the past 5 years, your birthday had been nothing but another day. For the past 5 years, celebrating without your mother didn't feel right--and besides, it wasn't like you had any friends to do so. For the past 5 years, your birthday meant nothing.

But now you had Sae and, as much as you hated to admit it, Taehyung.

You lifted your contemplative stare from the ground to Taehyung. He must have seen something pass through your glance, because he was cocking his head to the side, his eyes sparkling. "What?"

"Nothing." You shook your head, starting forward again before Taehyung's grip on your wrist had you back into his aura once more.

"That wasn't a 'nothing' look, that was a 'you have something to say' look."

"Not to you." You chuckled at his pout, snapping your wrist free from his hand.

"Come on, Y/N! One day you're going to let me in."

"Never." But you couldn't put in the same amount of venom that you used to and that worried you.

His arms were around you once more, pulling you back into his chest as if touch could cure all problems. "No, no. I think you just don't want to admit that you secretly like having me around."

You tried to crane your neck to bite his arm, but the boy was smarter than he looked and had angled his body just far enough to avoid your head. Maybe smart wasn't really the term; it was probably just him becoming immune to your violent tendencies. "I hate your guts, why are you pretending that I like having you around!" But you were laughing. It shouldn't have surprised you how well Taehyung knew you, how easily he had you figured out. If it wasn't for your biggest and hard-to-swallow secret, you figured he might know you better than you ever knew yourself. Tilting your head back, you made contact with his chest, making the mistake of meeting his gaze.

Thump.

"What did you want to tell me?"

Kim Taehyung was magic, you decided. He had the ability to cast a spell over you that no other human had ever been able to. There was something about being around him that didn't feel like your reality--when he was with you, it didn't feel like you were going to die if you fell in love. It felt like your mother would be at home, waiting for you and there would be friends ready to meet up next weekend just because you could.

"Saturday is my birthday." You whispered, momentarily lost in his smile.

There was something hopeful about Taehyung, something about the fact that he only ever seemed to see in shades of pink and warm orange. Everything was bright, and maybe it was because he was looking at you like there wasn't anyone else in the world, or maybe it was because he had arms like safety and chest built like a house of dreams that had never been part of your reality.

Once again, you were reminded of how dangerous Kim Taehyung was.

His eyes widened on you and, this time, he was the one to let you go. The instant that you were free from his grasp, your pitiful reality snapped back around you. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to a point you never wanted to come; you weren't ready to die.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Your lips parted to reply to him, though you weren't sure how and, for once, were thankful for the fact that Kim Taehyung had a girlfriend--no matter how annoying she actually was.

"Tae? Did you forget about our date, again?"

Hyeri.

You watched Taehyung's face change--it was fascinating really, how you could see his expression pass from the usual begging look he gave you, to adoration for Hyeri, to the face of a man bracing for anger, to the face of a man bracing for an argument. "I did not." He sounded like a man you didn't know, and it suddenly made sense why Sae got so stressed out when the two of them fought. Even though you were staring openly at the side of his face, he did not look down towards you. You could see his teeth clench in his jaw. "It isn't for two hours now, right? I will be there--I always am."

She pressed her lips into a line, her eyes straying towards you--it didn't surprise you that she didn't like what she found. "I thought you wanted to hang out with us beforehand?"

"I do. I will. I just wanted to tell Y/N the good news, she's Saeyoon's best friend--she deserves to know."

You watched Hyeri's eyes soften on Taehyung as her hands came up to cup the sides of his face. Slowly, deliberately making sure you were watching, she pressed her lips to his. Taehyung seemed to relax into the kiss, that unmistakable aura of love returning when he realized that this moment wasn't leading towards more anger. His hands found themselves around her waist, pulling her closer.

Hyeri's eyes never left yours.

You raised an eyebrow at her, chuckling under your breath as you started to turn away.

"Y/N--wait!" Taehyung pulled away long enough to call out to you

There was no need for you to turn around and face him, instead, you only stopped moving forward and waited for him to say what he needed to.

"You'll be there Saturday?"

"Of course." You threw the words over your shoulder. "See you then, have fun on your date." With a lump in the back of your throat that you drowned with water, you didn't let anything more get in your way of the library--you had books to comfort the constricting in your chest.

And they did a damn good job.

~.~

Bars really weren't your scene, considering you never drank much--nevertheless drank around people you didn't know. Apparently, as it turned out, Saeyoon was a popular girl.

The fact didn't surprise you; you already knew she had her own fan club.

What you didn't know was how many men would shamelessly be lined up and waiting to talk to her at the celebration. Someone must have leaked the news at her school, and you felt the need to out the rat and wrap your hands around their throat. There were too many guys, and if the fact that they were all here to steal Sae from you wasn't enough, some of them even tried speaking to you.

It was fine for her, normal for her to have "friendships" with the opposite sex; why be afraid when your strand couldn't kill you? But every conversation struck up with you had you nearly hissing at them like a stray cat hit with a spray bottle. Even though you knew Sae would be fine, the sight of a guy's hand platonically squeezing her shoulder in congratulations had your stomach twisting in worried knots. For the first time since your twenty-first birthday, you bought yourself a drink.

It was gone before you knew it and if Sae's group of suitors wasn't enough to make you order another, Taehyung and Hyeri all but having sex on the dance floor provided further motivation to ruin your liver. You had never thought that a couple could be disgusting, but the sight of Hyeri shamelessly shoving her tongue down her boyfriend's throat had you gagging.

Like the bitter troll you were, you made yourself at home with a glass of "the strongest cocktail you have, sir" and glared at any man that dared make eye contact with you. One of the boys must have looked at you nervously before approaching her, because suddenly she was wheeling her barstool around to face you--unknowingly rejecting said anxious male just to remember what she was supposed to tell you hours ago.

"Ah!" She had to shout over the heavy thrum of the music. "I forgot to give you this!" She fished her hand through her purse, quickly producing a small, neatly-wrapped package that she then placed in your hands. "I should hit you for not telling me! But I'm happy you at least told one of us before it was too late! Happy Birthday, Y/N!"

You stared at the gift in your palms, frowning at her. "You didn't have to--"

"Of course I did!" She smacked you, confirming that she was, indeed, a weakling. "We're best friends after all; this...this is what friends do. They spend time together, they have fun, and they make sure that the other isn't alone on their birthday. If I would have known, I would have thrown you a party."

"I hate parties."

"I know." She giggled, somehow managing to look beautiful even under the awful, colored strobe lights. "But I want to celebrate somehow."

Setting your drink on top of the bar, you unwrapped the present before gingerly pulling it from the jewelry box and cradling it in the palm of your hand. Your gift was incredibly beautiful and reminded you of Saeyoon to a T. But seriously? Out of all the things Sae could give you, she chose a tiny, crystalline lily on a silver chain.

"This is morbid as fuck."

"What?"

You shook your head, grinning up at her as you held it out to her. "Thank you Sae, seriously. Thank you." When she took it from your grasp, you spun your stool around to let her place the pendant at the hollow of your throat.

"It's so you can remember that you're not alone." It was a sweet sentiment, grunted out of frustration from the tiny, infuriating clasp that the jeweler had put on the chain. "You always have us--my brother to a lesser extent because he's an idiot. But me, I'm always here for you."

"Same."

She chuckled, swiveling you back around so she could pat your knee. Before she could say anything more, her eyes connected with the door to the bar and her face split into a grin. "I'll be right back, I just saw someone else I have to go greet!"

And so, the celebrating continued on, with a lily around your neck and an ever increasing drink tally of "make me forget tonight, sir."

Apparently, as you found out later--when you were sober--you were what they called a "lost drunk." It was explained to you that, as a "lost drunk" you had no idea what was happening until it already was. For example, that night, Sae had somehow found you outside crouched behind a bush. When she asked what the hell you were doing, you only stared blankly at her, then, as if suddenly realizing what you were doing, you jolted to your feet in confusion.

"The hell?"

"My words exactly."

It wasn't the only time she had to hunt your ass down, but it was probably the funniest. Hell, after that first incident, you probably should have seen the signs that you were done for the night. But, you seemed sober enough to Sae that it seemed fine to be left alone and so it was reason enough for you to stay. Later on, she would blame herself, because your drunken behavior was only noticeable if one was around to pay attention. Saeyoon had been occupied by the "really cute guy" who was dragged in with his friend (of which had a massive crush on Sae).

Your eyes scanned the dance floor in search of Taehyung, and, perhaps, that was how you wound up making the worst decisions of the night.

Somehow, drunk you wanted to find Taehyung--you wanted to dance and celebrate and whine that his sister left you for something as stupid as a guy. But there were only four problems with that line of thinking:

One: you were not a dancer. Two: Taehyung was with Hyeri. Three: You hated Kim Taehyung.

Four: Taehyung was with Hyeri.

In the end, those problems never reared their heads, probably because you never managed to find him to begin with. It was the act of walking out onto the dance floor that ruined you, because, at some point, a random, handsome, and toned as fuck man intercepted you. There was a brief conversation that you didn't recall having, but it must have been all flirt on his part and all "what did you say? I can't hear you" on your end. The next thing you knew, his hands were on your hips and you found your body moving to the beat of the music alongside his. Again, you sucked at dancing, but random man said that you were cute and drunk you decided that it was fine.

Because there is no such thing as a drunk with common sense.

You leaned back to stupidly ask him who he was--you had been dancing with him for a good half hour--only to, suddenly, find his lips on yours.

To say that you'd never been kissed would have been a lie. You had your first kiss at 15. There were no feelings for the boy, you simply did it because you were dared to by a friend you once had. This kiss, for obvious reasons, was different.

This was all hot breath and tongue--all alcohol and skin; it felt absolutely dirty.

You hated every second of it, enough for it to wake you from your lost state long enough to step away from him, shaking your head.

"What the fuck?" You hissed, trying to get the room stable underneath your feet but, apparently, drunk you also had about as much coordination as a newborn deer on ice.

The man only raised one eyebrow, his hand wrapping around your wrist to keep you there--a trap, a chain to tether you to him; he was stronger than you. "What's the problem?"

"You--you kissed me? That's the fucking problem."

"So were you just being a tease then? Because I believe that would be the fucking problem."

You stared at him, open mouthed and confused because words weren't making sense and all you wanted to do was throw up. Where was Sae? Where was Taehyung? Why did your feet not know how to move away? Why was he so damn strong?

Somehow, the man was leading you towards the edge of the dance floor--to a darkened corner with tables that looked like they hadn't been used for food in ages. You swore, moments ago, you saw a couple going at it; but it was dark enough and you were drunk enough that shadows could have been playing with your head.

You couldn't see him clearly, only flashes of his skin and teeth. It was easier for you to hear his voice, seeing as it fanned across your neck before his lips connected with your skin. Again. And again. And again. "I'll make you feel real good, baby." He promised, dropping a weight through your lungs.

"N--" You furrowed your brow at a point in the distance, trying to sober up real fast as your shaking hands tried to shove him off of you.

"What?" He tilted his head back, the glint of white teeth in the darkness scaring you--reminding you of childhood monsters. Maybe your mother was crawling like a movie ghost across the ceiling, or maybe you were losing your shit. Either was entirely possible to you in that moment.

"I don't want any strings--no connections." You whispered stupidly.

"I'm not looking to make any, so this is perfect."

He was far stronger than you were, he seemed the type to go to the gym--lift 250 pounds just because he could. You were bibliophilic; you lifted ten books just because you wanted to read them--not really because you were physically able to. He outmatched you, his hand moving to wrap around your neck. Even when you tried to rip it free, grinding your teeth in your jaw as you tried everything humanly possible to get air into your lungs, his hand remained.

His arms weren't safety, they weren't a house--they weren't a place where it was okay.

They were a cage.

"You're a freak."

"I bet you have it."

"Hanahaki."

Her eyes didn't have any color anymore; you'd never seen your once bright and sparkling mother look so dull.

So dead.

"Stop!" You screamed, ramming your knee into his groin in an attempt to stumble away--or at least get to the edge of the light, where people could see. Maybe someone would save you, you didn't want to need saving--but you did.

It was at that moment, your desperate and slow flee that he flipped you around to face him.

You heard the strike before you felt it. It was a clap, loud like thunder and equally as blinding as a lightning strike; your cheek burned and you could see--more than feel--the blood dribbling down your chin from your new split lip.

"You like it rough, hm? You like people to chase you?" He murmured, his eyes predatory in a way that the suddenly sober you knew your drunk self wouldn't have noticed. At least, in your pitiful attempt at escape, you had managed to get to where the light was.

His laugh sent tingles down your spine as you were suddenly, brutally slammed against the brick. And it was his face that would form new nightmares--even in the daylight.

More haunts; as if you didn't have enough ghosts to follow you through your life.

"Fuck off." You spat in his face, all blood and saliva. It prompted an immediate fist to your gut--a hit far stronger than you could take. If it weren't for his grip on you, you would have clattered to the ground.

In the distance, somehow, through the beat of the music, you could hear someone calling your name. They were searching for you. They were looking for you. It was enough for you to dig your nails into his skin--it was enough for your feet to kick wildly and find purchase in any fleshy bits at their mercy. You had to cause a scene, make noise, do anything and everything.

You had to live.

"Y/N!" It was getting closer, now standing out against the thump of the bass against your spine, vibrating within you from the wall. His lips were on your neck once more, teeth sinking into the fragile flesh to mark you. Stupidly you clawed at his face, gritting your teeth as he pulled you back only to slam you into the brick once more.

This time, you saw stars; constellations in the shadows the colored lights provided the ceiling.

You wanted the person who found you like that to be Sae, you wanted it to be Sae's "friends," you wanted it to be Hyeri--hell, anyone but him. But, like always, there was Taehyung, standing there in shock as if he couldn't believe he just witnessed your head making contact with the wall.

And then, Taehyung was there in front of you, ramming full force into this guy--this guy built like iron bars--knocking him away from you with the power of sheer adrenaline. He stood over you, blocking you from the guy's sight as you crashed to the ground, his back producing an image that could only be described as "safe."

Taehyung was safe.

Your throat tightened, your hands flying to your neck. For a moment, you hoped that it was because of that guy's grip--that maybe he fucked something up with the vertebrae in your neck, that he crushed your windpipe or maybe bruised your muscles. But you were scrambling to your feet before you could see the end of whatever conflict Taehyung was about to make--you had to go to the bathroom before you threw up on the floor.

You had to puke out your guts, you had to empty whatever rose from the depths of your chest like a sleeping monster. It started low, somewhere in your stomach, rising dark and heavy through your lungs until you fell to your knees with a crack that had yet to register as pain. Bent over the toilet in a dingy bar floor, you were reminded of your mother--of blood pouring from her mouth and the sound of her pain.

As you coughed, as you tried to hack and vomit what was in your stomach, the ghost of that man's lips haunted your neck. You were forced to keep your eyes screwed shut, even as something emptied out of you, even as it dropped into the water and your hands shook on the toilet seat in an attempt to keep you from falling in.

You didn't want to look; you couldn't make yourself look.

"Y/N, one day you're going to fall in love and I'm going to be so proud of you. You're going to be so happy--but I have to approve. Okay? I don't want you to get your heart broken. Just...just promise me you'll pick someone more mature than your father." She laughed, her hand smoothing out your hair. "I don't want to see you hurt."

You opened your eyes to petals whiter than fallen snow.

For a moment, the white made you hope lilies, made you hope daisies, made you hope that perhaps you would pull through this--the white made you believe that you weren't going to die.

But then you were coughing again, and this time, with your eyes open wide to the pain, you saw the first droplets of blood mingle with the toilet water, turning it a shade of pink. Another hack, and a broken thorn from the stem of a rose solidified your fate in stone.

Tears were falling; whether from pain, fear, hurt, loss, or love, you didn't know. But they were there and they hurt.

You ducked your head, your body shuddering as you pulled yourself away from the toilet, digging the palms of your hands into your eyes as if that could stop the onslaught of waterworks.

On your twenty-second birthday, sitting on a nasty bathroom floor, you realized you'd fallen in love with Kim Taehyung.

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unfortunatelysirius · 7 years

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Whispers in the Dark [Tom Riddle x Ravenclaw! Reader - Pre-Hogwarts]

♥ PROMPT ♥ Y/N L/N has a family notorious for writing school books, and this causes her to be teased and taunted mercilessly by Hogwarts students of every color. Tom, however, regards the girl with intrigue, and this leads to a relationship both passionate and consequential. ♥ A/N ♥ I wanted a new set-up for my imagines, so here I am with a different kind. Putting that aside, [3] was the winner! Sorry to fans of [5], but fortunately, that will be the next series I begin after my other two series meet an end. I’m particularly excited to get started on this series, as I’ve always been really big trash for Tom Riddle. His backstory is so intriguing and anything to do with him enraptures me. Should I be ashamed? He’s really hot as a youngster, so I’m not very ashamed. By the way, everyone, the story is told in third-person like Not Your Girlfriend is. If you all want that changed, just message my inbox! Thank you all for requesting. It makes me so happy when I see my inbox filled with requests. It gets my creative juices a’flowing. So thank you. And also, I apologise for the long wait. And let’s begin! ♥ WARNINGS ♥ Swearing, Angst, Death, Horror, Romance ♥ WORD COUNT ♥ 2312 Y/N was desperate, her head whirling as she tore and fumbled with books of varying deterioration and length. She needed to find the book with the right answer, the book that would change everything—fix everything. Was she a fool? Did looking to books for an answer to something so big and blatant—something she merely needed to ask a professor herself to receive a solidified answer—make her the world’s biggest clod? She remembered a certain quote then, one she learned when a mere toddler home-schooled in all things literature and magic—Shakespearean, filled with meaning and metaphor. “The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” Was she somewhere in-between such, caught in the middle of wisdom and dolt-plagued tomfoolery? Her parents might have denied it, but Y/N wasn’t convinced. She never believed in fairytales, nor did she believe any single compliment was sincere. It was something she got from him. “Bloody hell,” she whispered, grabbing at her left temple as it began to pound at her, like a stick against one’s drum. It was like a war inside her head, with screams and groans coming from every direction. Monsters—demons of all shapes and sizes—were tearing at her mind, ripping her sanity into shreds. The books became weights, only they weren’t on her shoulders—each page-flip required every bit of stamina Y/N had left. But she needed the answers—she needed them. She didn’t care for the pain if it meant she’d come out victorious in the end. A few bumps and bruises were nothing; they were miniscular compared to the tragedy that’d befallen her all throughout her life. One book fell to the ground, then another. This one made her pause in her quest. The second was a book her own mother had written—a research book, filled to the absolute brim with history. It explained the legacy of Grindewald, it brought to attention the achievements of several Pureblood families, and it also highlighted the atmospheric beauty of Hogwarts. Nowhere did it have answers. What was the bloody point in her mother writing a book if it answered nothing but the questions that came with the pesky curiosity of an insolent youth? It was pathetically unhelpful—it gave nothing but a headache, a certain vibration that ran from each synapse to the next, bringing with it tremors of nerves. But he needed her help. He was waiting, ever-so-patiently and ever-so-kindly. And she was desperate to please him and to bring him news of success. She wouldn’t have the heart to look him in the eye and give a sad shake of the head. What was the point in a visitation when she would only be the bearer of bad news? Finally came along a book with black and violet coloring, velvet lining, and medieval font. There were apparent crucifixes aligning the front, but for some reason, the only illustration that come form inside her head was that of a serpent. Y/N could only stare at it for a moment, her eardrums giving a faint “thump, thump, thump” as both her heart and her ears became one, drilling into her a resonant, “Open it, Y/N. Open it.” She would, but only for him. She had no need for this book, so fabrication was a necessary process. Motivation was nonexistent, so for him, she’d try. She’d give herself some, even if it tore apart her comprehension and lucidity in the process. Slowly but surely, she creaked open the book. Inside was a short introduction, then a table of contents, located on the next page. Y/N nearly skimmed past, so lost in her thoughts that she was faint of observation. When she saw the list for the fifth chapter, she smiled with delight. There in bold letters, she seen the word “Immortality.” And right below, there was the word that made her both breathless and sore, a strong feeling of befuddlement setting in her intestines. “...Horcruxes…” And like the whisper of a Parseltongue hissing at a reptilian bastard, there it came… like a song, menacing and alight with fear and foreshadowing and darkness… “First comes murder, so evanescent and divine, then comes a spell, wretchedly dissolved into brine. Salt in the wounds, a fool’s dying breath leaves, ‘To those that live; retain your mask and identity.’” They’d never take them alive. Never, never, never—

- Y/N L/N awoke with a gasp. Air felt finite when her chest both heaved and sucked for just a single breath, enough for her to retain a chance at life. The atmosphere felt hot and sticky, just like always—it was a family trait to have a house that reeked of sweat and humiliation. Her room was the least obvious, as she always casted a spell to interchange the scent, but every morning was the same. She’d awake with her throat sore and choking, then she’d breathe in the essence of her home. The home that bore so many memories, yet gave her chills down the spine whenever she entered it.

She’d been having nightmares ever since she could remember. For her, life was Hell in itself, and even in her dreams she couldn’t find solace. Everything was a cycle; life ran and repeated, much like history did, and it was all so fucking inescapable. Maybe that should have meant something to her. She was born in this house, raised in this house, taught in this house; it was a cycle, a rinse-and-repeat process that everyone in her damn family went through from their first breaths to their last. Nightmares weren’t meant to be in the cycle, and maybe that was the first sign—the first showing that Y/N was nothing like her family. Her chest was burning. She felt like Frigg, just moments before her son Balder died in her arms from a mistletoe dart. That sensation of grief surrounding your senses, of denial festering in your bones, of heartache manifesting as a persona—that was something she emphasized with, whether she wished to admit to it or not. This nightmare—it was quite unlike the others. It hurt to think about; hell, it just plain hurt. It was nothing but a figment of Y/N’s imagination; it wouldn’t hurt her. It couldn’t. It was a bloody dream; it shouldn’t have any damn power over her. Should it? Could it? Y/N kicked off her sheets and sat up in bed. She ran a hand through her Y/H/C hair, flinching at the tangles that stung with each violent tug. She kept thinking about the dream, sweat drenching her brow and her knickers. Shivers tremored up and down her back, but she couldn’t tell if they were from fear or pleasure. It was like the nightmare both excited and unnerved her. She felt the temptation to panic, but she also wanted to calmly drink in the world around her. She wanted to know what this meant. To Y/N, it appeared to be some sort of premonition. And it scared her to death to think that that might be true. A face was something she was missing. She had a book, a mysterious object called a “Horcrux,” and an apparent desperation to please someone. But a face was missing… and that was the one way to determine if this was really a nightmare… or if it was a presage for what was to come. This thought frightened her into a sleepless stupor that lasted the rest of that night. Her only regret lay in knowing that she’d be up at nine that same day to pack and head off to Platform 9 ¾. Even then, she couldn’t help herself but shake silently in bed, head clouded in fantasies of a life where she didn’t loathe her own existence and nightmares didn’t plague her sleep. That following morning, a mere four hours after her abrupt awakening, Y/N could feel the slight dusting of crust in the corners of her eyes and the stress on her brow and cheeks that caused premature wrinkles to coat her features. She hated that feeling—that horrible feeling of sleep-deprivation and weakness—but why should that have bothered her? It was a chronic feeling; there was nothing unusual about this. Nothing—nothing at all. But then, she thought about her dream. The Parseltongue, the song—the implications, the premonitions. This time, it wasn’t just fatigue weighing down her shoulders. It was fear. “Y/N, darling, the train has no use for rocks as passengers!” It was her mother, a flamboyantly-dressed, spiky-haired woman that was known to be continually-perky and full of life. She was ignorant to the things that society said behind her back. Y/N didn’t know whether to sympathize with her or find amusement in the situation. “Get up, get up! Time to dress yourself—blimey, Y/N, you look like death!” Her mother had just opened the door, and she was staring at Y/N with wide eyes, her mouth agape. The youngest of the two just scowled hard, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden. It was one thing for her peers to make her feel terrible, but it was a whole other thing when her mum uttered something regarding her appearance. It stung less, but brought more to attention. Though she felt bad for it, she honestly just wished her mother would bugger off. She told her mother so. “I’d rather not have you here when doing so,” Y/N said, throwing her mother a dark look. “Can you leave?” Her mother blanched slightly, but covered it up with a smile. “Of course, darling,” she said. “We leave twenty minutes till!” Y/N rubbed a hand over her face. Standing up, she stretched her limbs and looked to a nearby mirror. Her reflection caused her to instantly look away, a frown adorning her mouth. It was time to dress, she supposed. She definitely could see why her mother was shocked by her appearance. She threw on an old shirt of her father’s, then a pair of denim jeans. A pair of trainers were slipped on her feet, partially dirty but presentable enough that Y/N shrugged off their flaws. She went about the room, cleaning up any blatant messes and taking all the objects that she knew she’d need in her 5th year of Hogwarts. Clothes, robes, books, wand, and owl—those were the basics, the barest necessities. The thought of someone controlling her plagued her, leaving her to contemplate it for a solid hour… and then her mother and father came, telling her it was time to Apparate to the platform. An expression of embarrassment was permanently set into Y/N’s features as she arrived at the fantastical platform hidden within the walls of King’s Cross Station. She looked around, eying all of her peers with an expression of reproach. Though she hated them with every fiber of her being, she hated her parents the most. They were the ones that turned into a mockery. They made her into a puppet, controlled by the whims and jeers of people that only knew her by her last name. It made her into a hateful, spoiled little girl, and she was aware—but she couldn’t help it. She was filled with an uncontrollable bubble of rage, and it was completely a part of her. She ignored the mirth-filled stares she was getting around the station and turned to look at her parents. She felt guilty for the way she was thinking about her parents, so surprising the two, she wrapped them into a hug. “I love you,” she mumbled, making a face as she pulled back. The two parents could only watch, dumbfounded, as their only child made her way to the train. Y/N was an enigma neither parent could solve or even fathom. She wasn’t the only one filled with fear at that moment. Y/N strolled her way from corridor to corridor, face pulling into a frown every time some nasty git caught her gaze. She was hardly paying attention to where she was walking until a tall body knocked directly into her, pulling her and her bag to the floor from the impact. It bleeding well hurt, and she was meaning to give the person a comment on his lack of coordination, but then she looked up and she lost all ability to talk. Tom Marvolo Riddle. Slytherin Prefect, judging by the badge, and the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. He had eyes you could get lost in, and a frown that was permanently imbedded into his mouth. He looked like he knew his way around a wand and his way around socialization—while he looked brooding, he also looked manipulative. Dark. Malevolent. Haunted. Y/N stared at him, and Tom stared at her. Y/N was the first to realize how utterly ridiculous she was being, and she quickly frowned at him. Not a scowl, no—but somewhere in between. “I’m sorry,” she said, and she couldn’t tell why she wasn’t being standoffish. “Didn’t look where I was going.” Tom quirked an eyebrow at her. His brown eyes were full of curiosity. Such a strange feeling for someone so mysterious. “It’s alright,” he said quietly. He extended a hand, and Y/N gladly took it. She tried to ignore the sparks she felt when she touched his hand. She now stood up, glancing up to Tom with a shy expression, all of a sudden. “Thank you,” she said, just as quietly. She watched as Tom quickly headed down the corridor. She was stricken. Was it fear? Attraction? Intrigue? They all felt the same to her. Maybe it was all three. “First comes murder, so evanescent and divine, then comes a spell, wretchedly dissolved into brine. Salt in the wounds, a fool’s dying breath leaves, ‘To those that live; retain your mask and identity.’” Even then, she didn’t notice her mistake.

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bindy417 · 8 years

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At the Edge of the Ocean (Olicity AU fic Part 1)

Hey guys, I’d been toying for weeks with the idea of doing a unique Olicity AU one-shot. I very rarely write fics with mystical elements but once this idea popped into my head, I couldn’t get it out. I also blame @agentsassydirewolf for letting me rant about it and adding fuel to the fire in my creative brain! Thank you, and I hate you (just kidding...kinda sorta)! ;)

Anyway, I’ve always loved mermaids. They are by far my favorite mythical creature. I recently re-watched Splash (a big, glorious mistake) and felt compelled to finally bring my Olicity mermaid AU obsession to life. This was originally going to be a one-shot but while writing yesterday, I realized there was too much to cram into a single post. I also wanted to have this posted in time for Valentine’s Day, so I’m splitting it up into two parts (I’m still working on the second one right now).

I haven’t yet decided if this might turn into a short, mutli-chapter ficlet. But let me know if you guys want to read more, and I might add it to my list of future fics to work on. I’m not sure how the visual aspects and edits will format on AO3, so I’m posting strictly to Tumblr for now.

Thanks in advance for reading, everyone, and Happy Valentine’s Day!

Pairing: Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak

Rating: T

Summary: AU. Oliver almost drowns when the Queen’s Gambit sinks and is saved by a mysterious creature. When he learns that his savior is actually a beautiful mermaid named Felicity, Oliver can’t decided if he’s more shocked by her existence or the fact that he feels such a strong connection to her. Coming from two different worlds, Oliver and Felicity must decided if their love is true and what they’re willing to sacrifice to make it work.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Arrow or any of its characters. Except for the Olicity edits, the rest of the images and gifs aren’t mine.

Chapter 1:

It was rare that Oliver Queen, billionaire playboy, thought about falling in love. He knew it would happen someday–when he was older, more mature, and done with his partying ways. He knew whoever he chose to love would be beautiful. She would be charming. She would be smart. She would be well-connected. And most importantly, in a bright and bustling metropolis like Starling City, she would be a vision by his side that dazzled.

Not once did Oliver think he wouldn’t have a choice in who he loved. Fate was nothing more than an illusion of grandeur. Something desperate people told themselves to make their choices in life seem more important. No one but Oliver Queen would be the master of his destiny. No one but himself would have control over his heart.

It was the complete and utter truth until she came along. She was unexpected. She was dazzling. She was everything…but human.

The day she’d first come into his life had started like any other. Spring break was almost over, and Oliver’s father Robert had convinced him they were in need some of some good, old-fashioned father-son time before Oliver returned to college. His mother Moira and little sister Thea would, naturally, stay behind in Starling while Oliver and Robert took to the high seas on the family yacht, the Queen’s Gambit, as they’d done many times before.

The storm seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. The wind howled as the waves roiled, thrashing violently against the boat. The Queen’s Gambit teetered back and forth precariously on the dark, choppy water. Oliver wasn’t one to normally get seasick, but even his iron stomach had begun to feel queasy.

It was the middle of the night and he was exhausted, but Oliver got up anyway to find his father. He wanted to know exactly how much longer they’d have to weather through the storm. That’s when it happened…

The yacht suddenly lurched. Loud clanging and cracking sounds rang out around him before Oliver was plunged into cold, wet darkness.

As he opened his mouth to shout for help, his lungs filled with icy water. His chest seized, and his limbs flailed to find purchase. There was nothing to keep Oliver from drifting down deeper into the dark abyss. Already he could feel his body becoming sluggish and his limbs heavy.

His eyes were almost completely closed when he thought he saw movement. Something touched Oliver’s shoulder, but he was too far gone to be concerned. Whether it was by the ocean or some unseen predator, he was about to die. Various images of his family flashed before his eyes: attending his first baseball game with his father, his mother helping him get ready for a school dance, and five-year-old Thea begging him to play tea party with her and her dolls. Much like the water flooding his lungs, Oliver was filled with overwhelming sorrow and panic that he’d never see them again.

As he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, Oliver felt himself moving through the water. There was a solid pressure against his back and shoulders, as if a pair of arms were wrapped around him and squeezing tightly.

Oliver didn’t know how long he’d been out before he eventually awoke to find himself drifting in a life raft. His eyes felt swollen, his lungs burned, and all of his muscles ached but at least he was alive. The same, unfortunately, couldn’t be said for his father or the crew. Oliver was alone and as he gazed out at the now calm water and lack of noticeable debris, he knew they were all most likely dead.

Dehydrated, Oliver couldn’t even form the tears he needed to mourn his father properly. He didn’t move for the longest time. It wasn’t until much later that he discovered a small ration of food and water tucked into a compartment in the raft.

Oliver quickly lost any concept of time. It could’ve been a couple of days or an entire week that had passed. His mind drifted as aimlessly as the raft that sheltered him. The moment he truly knew his sanity had abandoned him was when he thought he saw a pink fishtail breaking the surface of the water in the moonlight. In fact, there were several times that he imagined something pink lurking just beneath the surface.

Finally, Oliver opened his eyes to see an island in the distance. He was so close, and yet the current wasn’t with him. There were no ores in the life raft to paddle himself to shore. Maybe Oliver could jump into the water and swim, but he wasn’t strong enough to tug the raft with him, too. Abandoning it was out of the question, since it was too valuable to lose.

Oliver was cold, tired, hungry, and about to let himself pass out again when the raft had suddenly jutted forward. He flew backward onto the floor, bewildered, before quickly scrambling up. Something had to be beneath him, because the raft was moving as if a motor was attached to it.

“What the hell?” Oliver had muttered, feeling both scared and oddly hopeful as the island grew closer.

Minutes later, he was almost to the shore when the raft abruptly stopped. It was all the encouragement Oliver needed. Without a second thought, he jumped over the side and into the water. It was frigid and came up to his waist. Hissing from the sudden shock of sensation, Oliver took hold of the raft and yanked it with him the rest of the way to shore.

He collapsed on the rocky terrain, just barely managing to keep from whacking his head. Or maybe he did because he lost consciousness after that. It was around dusk that Oliver cracked open his eyes to find a strange, shadowed creature perched on another set of rocks nearby.

His heart lifted upon seeing its slender curves and long hair. It looked like a woman until his gaze drifted down to find the outline of a tail. Was he really imagining some kind of freakishly giant fish again? And why was it also a woman now? Had the sun fried his brain, or was he already that lonely? Oliver’s questions went unanswered because as soon as he’d blinked, the mysterious creature was gone.

The next morning, after he’d clumsily foraged for some food, Oliver had thoroughly convinced himself that the creature he’d seen was nothing more than a figment of his imagination. A hallucination, in fact, caused by the delirium of spending so many days drifting out at sea.

From that point on, Oliver was determined to do whatever it took to stay in the right frame of mind. He’d explored the island, which seemed to be uninhabited, as best he could. There was a brook where he could drink fresh water and a few edible plants. Being a city boy put him at a disadvantage, but Oliver did remember some lessons from the time he’d been trying to earn his Boy Scout survival badge years ago. He even gathered wood for a fire. Upon further inspection of the raft, Oliver discovered a small box of emergency tools and a first-aid kit. Among the items was a lighter, which had proved useful.

Slowly but surely, Oliver felt some of his strength returning. He didn’t have any more random hallucinations, which was automatically a good sign. However, he couldn’t survive on just plants and berries. The pains in his stomach were becoming uncomfortable. He was craving food with more substance, such as bread and meat.

Since there obviously wasn’t a bakery on the island and he had no idea how to hunt live game, Oliver turned to the sea for sustenance. He used to go fishing with his father all the time as a kid. Seeing as though he didn’t have any hooks or fishing line, Oliver fashioned himself a spear from a long, thick stick and waded into the water. He chose the rockier, enclosed cove areas because that’s where fish often liked to frequent.

Nevertheless, Oliver quickly learned that spearing fish was nothing like hooking them. He had to stand as still as a statue in the cold water while being as quick as lightning. He’d been in that exact spot for hours when he got so frustrated that he dove right under, intent on using his bare hands to catch the slippery suckers. It was eat or perish, and so Oliver just had to catch something.

It came as no surprise that the fish escaped his grasp, and yet Oliver almost inhaled a mouthful of water in shock. About ten feet away, swimming off into the distance, was a long pink tail attached to a human body. It was that creature again, only this time it didn’t have the darkness to hide it. The light seeping through the water showed what looked like long blond hair and shapely curves.

Mermaid, Oliver’s mind shouted.

He sprinted out of the water and back to land, gasping and shaking as he tripped over his own feet to put as much distance between himself and the beach as possible.

His logical mind searched for some kind of explanation; the hallucination excuse was getting old. Plus, she’d just looked so damn real.

Real or not, Oliver had dragged the raft deeper into the woods that night, pulled the covering over the top, and slept inside. He didn’t want to be anywhere near the water. Recounting every single mermaid movie Thea had made him sit through growing up, Oliver tried to remember the legends. If it was like The Little Mermaid, then mermaids couldn’t just come and go on land as they pleased. Ariel’s tail had been permanent, which was why she sought out Ursula’s magic. On the other hand, if it was like Splash, then mermaids could dry off and immediately have a pair of legs. The latter was exactly what Oliver was afraid of.

He’d avoided the beach completely the next couple of days and stayed strictly in the woods. Oliver was on his guard every minute but, luckily, nothing human or otherwise popped out at him. The third day, unfortunately, he couldn’t put off going to the beach any longer. Oliver had been in the process of making a large pit for a signal fire that he needed to finish as soon as possible. If there was even the slightest chance of a boat passing by in the distance, then Oliver had to be ready.

Although his spear had been useless in catching fish, it was the best weapon he had besides the Swiss Army knife tucked into his pocket. Oliver carried the spear tightly in his hand as he approached the beach. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting. There wasn’t much that could be done to change the natural scenery, but nothing suspicious stuck out at him right away either.

Oliver had never been afraid of the water before but after that terrible storm and the possible creepy creatures lurking beneath the surface, it gave him the chills. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the unending hunger pains in his stomach, Oliver approached the pit and took stock of how much more work needed to be done. He walked over to the pile of wood he’d gathered to find the best pieces and immediately froze.

Beside the wood was another pile, but this one was made up of fish. There was also a message carved into the sand.

Oliver reared back, this time because of astonishment rather than fear. He blinked rapidly several times but the words remained. The mermaid not only knew how to spell, but she was apologizing. And for what? Scaring him the other day?

Staring once again at the fish, Oliver’s stomach growled loudly. He’d seen enough Sci-Fi horror movies to know that a seemingly kind gesture could be the ultimate trap. But if he didn’t eat food with some nutrients soon, he’d be weaker than he already was. The large fire pit forgotten for the moment, Oliver made a smaller pile and ignited it. Then, he whipped out the knife and proceeded to skin and splay the fish open. He skewered the edible parts and then proceeded to cook them over the fire. When they were done, Oliver set upon them like a wild animal. He barely could register the taste, because he was swallowing faster than he was chewing.

His stomach, finally satisfied, rumbled loudly afterward. Oliver glanced at the water, his eyes searching for a splash of pink among the waves. When he didn’t see anything of the sort, he returned to his original task. The food he’d consumed gave him a necessary burst of energy, and he was able to get a lot done. Just before leaving, Oliver scribbled his own message into the sand.

More time passed, and the pattern continued. Oliver would arrive on the beach every morning to find fish or other edible seafood waiting for him. Sometimes there was another short message like a greeting or tip about the island. The mermaid was actually clever and suggested making multiple pits and scattering them to cover the most ground.

Although the idea that something like her existed still freaked him out, Oliver couldn’t ignore that she was a valuable resource. He was almost positive that she was the one who’d saved him in the water and pushed him to shore. Now she was giving him food and advice. The back-and-forth exchange, no matter how small or limited, also kept him from feeling totally isolated. Despite hoping that his father might wash up on the shore in a similar fashion, Oliver never did see any signs that pieces of the wreckage could’ve reached his current location–wherever the hell that was.

What he really wanted to know most of all was why she was sticking around and helping him. Didn’t mermaids prefer to be off frolicking in the deep sea with the dolphins or whatever other friendly fish existed? And if there was one mermaid, then there naturally had to be more elsewhere. Was she alone, or did she have a family of her own to return to? He didn’t even know her name.

That evening, before returning to his makeshift shelter in the woods, Oliver scribbled a slightly different message in the sand.

All night he tossed and turned as the unending questions plagued him. He briefly considered sneaking back to the beach to get a glimpse of her but was afraid it might scare her off. The mermaid had been careful to avoid direct contact with him ever since that day he’d gone fishing.

Upon first light, Oliver was up and racing through the woods. He scanned the shore and felt his heart skip a beat when he saw her answer.

Felicity. The mermaid’s name was Felicity. It sounded so free-spirited and beautiful, which he told her when he wrote back. Oliver had disappeared into the woods after that to get more wood and supplies. When he returned, a new message was waiting for him. His heart sped up yet again, because she’d never answered him twice in the same day before.

Felicity had thanked him and said that he was cute, too, which meant that she had to be nearby right now watching. Did Felicity have a crush on him? Was that why she’d been helping him? Also, why did Oliver feel invigorated by that fact instead of scared?

He wrote in response, Not fair that you can see me but I can’t see you. He added a winking smiley face and leaned back to stare at the words. Was he actually flirting, with a mermaid no less, using silly scribbles in the sand?

Yes, he was. If anyone back home could see former playboy Oliver Queen now, they’d be laughing their ass off at him—and probably calling him crazy. Before Oliver could second-guess himself, he stood up and walked away. He didn’t return until later that night.

Soon, was Felicity’s response.

That time, his heart skipped an entire beat and he quickly knelt in the sand to reply. Can you walk?

No, she’d eventually written back. Need to stay near water.

Their conversation continued over the next several days. I can come into the water…

No! Too dangerous. Stay on the shore please.

Her response brought Oliver up short. He was no fan of the ocean anymore, but Felicity’s warning made it seem like there was something other than mystical mermaids like her that he needed to watch out for.

Ok I’ll stay on shore.

Promise me.

I promise. But I still want to see you.

That was the last correspondence they’d had. It was like Felicity suddenly disappeared after that. She’d even stopped bringing him piles of fish. Days turned into weeks. Oliver was apparently on his own again, and he cursed himself for pushing Felicity before she was ready. He hadn’t meant to scare her away. In addition to the struggles of hunting for his own food, the loneliness was setting back in. But he kept his promise. No matter how badly Oliver wanted to search for her, he didn’t go into the water.

Surprised by how much he missed Felicity, despite them having never actually met, Oliver visited the beach often in a vain attempt to still feel connected to her. It was during a walk late one night that Oliver’s world was righted while simultaneously being turned upside down. He hadn’t been close to the main beach. He’d traveled farther down to a part of the cove that came right up to the woods. Instead of sand, the ground was covered in tiny stones. The silver light of the full moon made them look like they were glowing. But the natural view wasn’t what initially took his breath away.

There, on the rocky shore, sat a beautiful mermaid in all her glory. She had long, wavy blond hair that had mostly dried. Her skin was fair like porcelain. The defined but delicate features of her face captivated him. She looked young—probably in her late teens. Oliver couldn’t see the exact color of her eyes, but they were light. Blue was his guess. Her nose was small, and her cheeks were flushed. When her lips parted, Oliver noticed them painted a rich pink.

Oliver didn’t stop there. He couldn’t. His eyes traveled the length of her body and lingered on the cleavage peeking out over the tops of her shell bra. Her waist was toned and curvy, leading into a long tail. The scales were multi-faceted shades of pink and glistened from the reflected moonlight. Her fins were wide but compact and remained partially in the water.

“Felicity?” Oliver murmured in disbelief.

“Hi, Oliver.” Her voice was just as he’d imagined it–soft and melodic. “Surprise…” Felicity seemed nervous, waiting for his reaction. She bit her lip and fiddled with her hands in her lap.

“You’re…stunning,” he breathed and meant it.

Felicity was the most beautiful woman—creature?—he'd ever seen. Oliver probably should've been scared right then and regretted such a thought. He was face to face with a mermaid, for crying out loud. Nothing like this was supposed to exist in the real world. But he wasn't scared or ashamed. In fact, Oliver was calm because Felicity looked just as curious and amazed by him.

Blushing, she replied, "Thank you.”

A charged silence passed between them.

She must’ve mistaken his silence for apprehension because she added, “If this is too much and you've changed your mind, I can go. I won't bother you again." She seemed sad by the prospect but resolute.

"No!" Oliver exclaimed. In the still night, it came out like a shout. She flinched, and he quickly apologized. "No. Please stay. I just want to talk. I have so many questions."

“I know you do. I might not be able to answer them all.” She revealed, “I’m really not even supposed to be here.”

“You’re not?” She shook her head. “Then why did you come back?”

Her eyes roamed his face. “Because I wanted to make sure you were okay. And I...I missed you,” she admitted somewhat shyly.

Oliver wasn’t exactly sure what she could’ve missed about him considering she’d been more helpful to him than he’d been to her. But the sentiment seemed genuine, and he was filled with a surge of warmth in his chest. Motioning to the ground beside her, Oliver took a seat when she nodded. He kept a couple of feet of distance between them. This situation was new to both of them, and they were still trying to assess the other.

“How are you real?” Oliver questioned and immediately wanted to kick himself.

Thankfully, Felicity wasn’t offended. She simply smiled and said, “I’m sure you’ve heard many of the legends. Mermaids have been around for over 4,000 years. But unlike humans, we like to keep a low profile. The vast majority of the ocean has remained unexplored by your kind, and we take advantage of that.”

“How are you able to speak and write in English?”

“Just because we are not of your world, doesn’t mean we don’t know of its ways. We try to learn as much as we can so that we can peacefully coexist. If we ever are in danger of being discovered, then it helps to be able to blend in.”

Oliver became more confused. “So you are able to go on land? Because I thought you said you couldn’t walk.”

“It’s complicated.” She didn’t elaborate, and so Oliver let it go.“Why were you on that boat?”

Swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, Oliver said, “My dad and I were taking a weekend sailing trip. We didn’t expect the storm.” He hesitated, debating whether to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. Although he needed answers, he also dreaded them.

Felicity was watching him intently. “You want to know if there’s a chance your father and the others survived.” He was a little surprised that she’d been able to read him so easily but nodded. “I’m so sorry, Oliver.”

It was all she had to say. Glancing away from her, Oliver stared out at the gentle waves breaking along the shore. The ocean was calm now, but he wasn’t fooled. He’d experienced firsthand its vindictive fury. Somewhere in the dark depths his father’s body was lost. Oliver wasn’t religious, but this one time he prayed that Robert Queen’s soul had gone on to a better place.

The pair sat quietly for a few minutes. When he felt Felicity’s fingers graze his own, Oliver startled. Thinking he was repulsed by her touch, she began to pull back. Oliver swiftly grabbed hold of her hand and firmly kept it in his grasp. The human (or half-human) contact was a welcomed shock to his system. He hadn’t just been starving for food. Oliver had been starving for touch and comfort in its most basic form.

“Thank you for saving me,” he told her, holding her gaze. “I’m still not entirely sure why you took such a risk, but I appreciate it.”

“You probably would’ve done the same if you’d seen someone in trouble.”

Oliver didn’t have the heart to tell Felicity that he was a spoiled, selfish brat on a good day and probably wouldn’t have taken the risk if it came down to himself or someone else. For his father, yes. But for a random stranger? Probably not. And unlike Felicity, Oliver wouldn’t have had as much to lose.

Felicity had taken a huge chance in revealing herself to him, especially since she alluded to the fact that it was forbidden. Yet, there she sat holding his hand and giving him the benefit of the doubt. She was either a really compassionate person or some kind of super siren working to build his trust so she could suck out his soul when he least expected it. He assumed it was the first option but...

Oliver suddenly asked, “Do you like to sing?

Felicity frowned. “What?”

“Singing is something mermaids love to do, right? That’s how they used to lure sailors to their deaths. Sirens they were called. Are you one of those or just a mermaid? Is there a difference?” he rushed out.

“No, not all mermaids like to sing. And if I was a bloodthirsty siren, I totally would’ve seduced you already and given you the kiss of death.” Felicity gave him a serious look, and Oliver’s breath got stuck in his throat. Slowly, the corner of Felicity’s mouth quirked up and she smiled in amusement. “I’m kidding, Oliver.”

It took a second for the joke to register, and he let out a sigh of relief. “Very funny,” Oliver grumbled.

“I can sing, but I’m not that great at it. Even if I was, the whole singing siren thing is a myth.” Felicity squeezed his hand. “You’re safe with me. I promise.”

Despite how unthinkable the entire situation was, Oliver found that he actually believed her. Felicity had gone out of her way to save him from drowning during the storm and given him food when he was hungry. If she’d harbored any ill will towards him, she would’ve carried through on it by now.

Oliver looked down and studied her intently. Having moved closer, he noticed that Felicity had a much smaller frame than him. If she could actually stand up with her tail, she’d probably be almost a foot shorter. Her eyes were definitely blue, though it was difficult to determine their exact shade in the night. Regardless of the darkness that surrounded them, Felicity’s smile was as warm and dazzling as the sun. It actually made Oliver wonder what she would look like in the light of day. There was still a prominent part of him that thought this moment was a figment of his imagination and he’d wake up tomorrow to find her gone.

“Can I see you again in the morning? Maybe we can have breakfast together,” Oliver suggested. “I’ll bring the squirrel and berries if you bring the fish.”

Felicity’s nose scrunched up in an adorable scowl. “Squirrel? Is that what you’ve been eating while I was gone?”

“Unfortunately.” Killing and cooking it had been disgusting enough, but the memory of the horrible taste still made him shudder.

“Gross! No more of that,” Felicity declared with a resolute shake of her head. “Although I would like some berries. But you have to be careful of the poisonous ones.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” he teased, chuckling under his breath when she playfully nudged him with her shoulder.

Grinning, they stared at each other in comfortable silence a little longer. Without even realizing what he was doing, Oliver’s thumb began to run along the top of her hand. Felicity, her cheeks almost matching her tail, was the first to look away.

“I should go,” she abruptly announced. “I need to get some rest if I’m going to journey back so early.”

“Is your, um,”—he struggled for the right word—“cave—er, home not nearby?”

“No, it’s not. Which is probably a good thing,” she added as an afterthought. She released his hand, and Oliver felt the loss instantly.

“Felicity, can I ask you one more question?”

“Was that it?” she teased him.

Who knew that mermaids could be snarky? “No,” Oliver chuckled. “When you were gone, I didn’t understand why you told me not to go in the water. Were you afraid I’d almost drown again? Was that the danger?”

Felicity hesitated before shaking her head. “No. It’s difficult to explain, but all I can say is that not every creature in these depths is as friendly as me.” She raised her hand to his cheek, her touch a gentle whisper against his skin. “You need to be careful, Oliver, especially when I’m not around.”

It was more than concern he saw in Felicity’s eyes. It was genuine fear. Once again, Oliver listened to his instincts and decided to trust her. He stayed in his spot on the beach as Felicity eased herself into the water. She dove under, producing a soft splash. When she was farther out, she gave him a small wave before disappearing beneath the surface.

Their meeting that night turned into the first of many. Almost every day in the months that followed, Felicity would come to visit Oliver. She would stay on the beach, and they would talk as he worked on his fire pits. Felicity was actually very intelligent and gave him some great advice on how to structure the pit and position the wood so it would burn most effectively. Her knowledge was surprising since mermaids didn’t have fire for obvious reasons. When he asked her about it, she simply shrugged and said that she was known amongst her people for making clever contraptions. Her answer still didn’t address the intent of Oliver’s question, but he didn’t push the subject.

Sometimes it was difficult to tear his eyes away from her and concentrate. Felicity often laid on her stomach in the sand with her magnificent tail poking out of the surf. Her golden locks would dry in the sun and cascade down her back in shining waves. When Felicity rested up on her elbows, it pushed her breasts together and made them spill over the tops of her shell coverings. Oliver, despite telling himself that he and Felicity were just friends (not to mention different species), felt a different kind of hunger flare within him then. Felicity, the innocent creature that she was, didn’t seem to notice the heat that was slowly starting to consume him.

One day, Oliver had taken the opportunity to ask Felicity if many ships passed by the area, and she’d told him no. He supposed it made sense, since mermaids like Felicity preferred isolated areas. Not wanting to hurt her feelings, because spending time with her really was the best part of his day, Oliver tried not to show his disappointment. When he asked if she ever left the area on her own and ventured out into the ocean, she told him that she couldn’t. It was yet another restriction. Regardless of her nonchalant tone, Oliver saw the anguish swimming in her pretty blue eyes. It seemed she was stranded just like him.

The blond beauty also had many questions of her own. Felicity wanted to know anything and everything about Oliver’s life back home. He told her about growing up in Starling City with his family and the pressure of living in the shadow of the Queen legacy. Oliver considered glossing over some of his wilder misadventures and brushes with the law but found that he didn’t want to lie to Felicity. They were friends, and she deserved better than that. She simply listened in rapt silence, taking it all in without judgment.

At first, Oliver had been wary to talk about his life. Seeing as though his chances of ever returning home were very slim, he thought it would do more harm than good to reflect on it. It turned out the opposite was true. Remembering the life still waiting for him back home, Oliver felt an even stronger need to survive and return to his mother and Thea. They must’ve been devastated when they found out about the Gambit, and Oliver wanted nothing more than to take their pain away.

Felicity, conversely, was much more guarded about certain aspects of her life. He’d learned that she was eighteen, four years younger than him, and lived in a small mer- village. She had a mother who she was close to but never actually knew her father. When Oliver had asked if she’d ever stayed on land for an extended period of time—because how else would she or her people know so much about humans?—she’d dodged the question. Topics that weren’t so loaded, like the time she’d set a fish trap to get back at a bully who’d made fun of her friend, she tended to babble on and on about.

The day their friendship had turned into something more, the pair had been in the cove. The weather had gotten significantly warmer, and Felicity was trying to teach Oliver the patience and agility of spear fishing. They’d never spoken of the danger she feared, but Oliver got the feeling she wanted him to be able to fend for himself if she needed to disappear again. Despite his unease with the ocean, Oliver felt perfectly safe with Felicity. It also didn’t hurt that she looked sexy as hell with her hair plastered to her body and water droplets clinging to her creamy skin.

After finally making his catches, Oliver had asked if she could take him outside of the cove. So much of their time was spent on land and, for once, Oliver wanted to see Felicity completely immersed in her own element. With a beaming smile, she’d agreed and taken his hand. Felicity guided him into slightly deeper water. Although she could probably swim at least five times faster than him, she slowed her pace to match his. When she told him to hold his breath, Oliver did as instructed and let her tug him under the surface.

To say that Oliver was mesmerized watching her was an understatement. Felicity looked like a floating angel as she glided through the water. The way her entire body undulated with each movement made it easy to see how she was so fit. She gave Oliver a tour of the ocean floor without taking him down too far. He couldn’t hold his breath for that long and the pressure would’ve been too much for him. Taking in all of the intricate rock formations, colored corals, and various species of fish, Oliver had to admit that it looked like a completely different world. Felicity was grinning from ear to ear watching him, and Oliver knew he wore a similar expression.

Eventually, they returned to the cove and sat on the rocks to watch the sunset. The sky was a mixed palette of yellow, orange, pink, and purple. As breathtaking as it was, Oliver found his gaze wandering to Felicity. She’d closed her eyes and was letting the last remnants of the sun’s rays warm her skin. They were so close that he actually noticed the small smattering of freckles on her nose.

As if sensing the intensity of his stare, Felicity opened her eyes and turned towards him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered, her voice quavering ever so slightly.

“Because you’re beautiful, Felicity.”

“I am?”

Her uncertainty gutted him, and Oliver lifted his hand to her face. He stroked her cheek and her breath hitched, but Felicity didn’t pull away. “Yes.”

“Even my…” she trailed off and nodded down to her tail.

“All of you,” Oliver replied and slid his hand along Felicity’s neck and shoulder. With his other hand, he let his fingers graze the curve of her waist. Felicity shivered and leaned into his touch. He stopped just above her tail. “Can I touch you?” It had been something Oliver wanted to do for a while now, but he didn’t want to offend her or make her uncomfortable before.

Felicity swallowed hard and nodded, tugging her lip between her teeth. When Oliver finally placed his hand on the upper thigh of her tail, she moaned softly but deeply in her throat. Her response ignited the fire in his veins further, and he splayed his hand on her fully. Felicity’s scales were smooth and slick against Oliver’s palm, making it easy to stroke her.

A moment later, she let out a shaky breath and tentatively placed her hands on his chest. Oliver grumbled lowly at the contact and the way Felicity started to run her fingers along his torso. She traced every line of muscle and paid special attention to the scars he’d acquired from his first months on the island lumbering carelessly through the woods. Their foreheads touched as they explored each other, their mingling exhales turning into low pants.

Felicity wrapped her arms around Oliver’s shoulders as he gripped her tail to bring her flush against him. When the exposed parts of her torso hit his bare flesh, Oliver nearly lost it. His muscles rippled at the contact, and their noses brushed together.

“Felicity,” Oliver murmured huskily. It felt like electricity was shooting through his body when she started running her fingers through his hair. He did the same to her, loving the way the thick, wavy strands filled his entire hand.

“Oliver,” Felicity breathily replied, “kiss me.”

It was all the encouragement Oliver needed before he swooped in to claim her lips. Felicity gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed her moans. Tilting her head to the side, Felicity opened her mouth and allowed him to deepen the kiss. His tongue flicked against her bottom lip, tasting the salt from the ocean. When Oliver delved inside, stroking and teasing her tongue, he groaned at discovering the sweet taste that was all her. It didn’t take long for the pair to lose themselves in each other.

The unbridled need and passion were sensations Oliver had never felt before. No matter how tightly Oliver clutched Felicity, she still wasn’t close enough. He devoured her lips as she clawed at his back. Her nails penetrating his skin sent a jolt of heat straight to his groin. Eventually, Oliver pulled her entirely onto his lap and buried his face in her neck. He licked the tangy salt off of her skin before sucking on her pulse point. Felicity threw her head back and muttered his name, encouraging him to continue.

After kissing every exposed inch of her flesh, Oliver felt Felicity tug on his hair to bring his lips back to hers. This time, he slowed the kiss down and focused on making her feel special. Oliver held Felicity’s face gently in his hands and tenderly nipped at her lips. She sighed into his mouth and returned every affectionate swipe. Only when they were both desperate for air did they finally break the kiss. Neither one made a move to pull away fully and continued to cling to the other.

“Wow,” Felicity muttered.

Oliver rested his forehead against hers, staring into her bright blue eyes. “Yeah.”

“That was, um,’’—she bit her lip, and Oliver had to resist taking hold of it himself again—“my first kiss,” she coyly admitted.

Oliver had suspected as much. Felicity was a great kisser, but she was young and he’d sensed her timidity at times. She’d mostly let him guide her—not that he minded. Oliver loved that she put that trust in him.

He kissed the tip of Felicity’s nose, making her smile. “Believe me, it won’t be the last…”

(To be continued...Part 2)

#OlicityFanfics #At the Edge of the Ocean #olicity #olicity AU #ficlet #part 1 #oliver queen #mermaid felicity #mermaids #olicity fanfiction

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sending-the-message · 7 years

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My Seven-Year-Old has Has Been Acting Strange Since Returning from A Trip by SA_Newman

I had to send my daughter straight to her room. In a sudden explosion of anger, she had covered our maroon dining room wall in sticky hot mac and cheese. Yellow cheesy noodles and shards of a bowl covered our lament floor. The smell of melted cheese was still strong in the room as I picked up the bowl pieces off the floor and table.

More confused than anything else I walked over and sat down in a chair. The wooden legs creaked under me as I slid it forward. I ate my dinner alone in silence and hadn't heard a peep from her since sending her up about thirty minutes ago. "She's tired" that's what I told myself. That she needed to have some time alone. But I knew something was wrong with her.

I didn’t see or hear her again until breakfast the next day. Standing over the stove I took in the hickory scent as the bacon sizzled next to the scrambled eggs. I thought the aromas emitting from the kitchen would wake her up. As if on cue small thudding footsteps made their way down from upstairs. My daughter, Ariel, stumbled around the corner. She was still wearing the same pink t-shirt and jeans she fell asleep in. Her hair, shoulder length and light brown, was in knots and looking like a hot mess.

"Morning sunshine. Breakfast is ready." She looked at me for a moment with narrowed eyes. She took her seat, and I placed a plate in front of her. Staring at the eggs and bacon she didn’t show the slightest bit of interest. "Eat up… I'm sure you're hungry… seeing that you didn’t eat your dinner last night." I didn’t get a response, and she continued to look down at it as if I had just given her a plateful of rotten meat and withering maggots.

"When's mommy coming home?" Ariel said.

"Tomorrow night… so how was Phoenix?" Ariel had just returned from a trip to Phoenix with a friend from church. Her friend's mom had invited her, and it had been her first trip away from home by herself. She had barely contained her excitement, and all the pictures on Facebook showed she had a great time. "Are you going to eat? You need to eat something… are you feeling ok?"

I stood up and held my palm against her forehead. It wasn’t warm. Instead, it felt icy cold. Like she had just stepped out from being in a meat freezer. I retracted my hand. "Jeez, you're freezing! Do you feel sick honey?" Again I received no response. I checked her temperature. It was normal. I decided to send her back up to bed since she showed no interest in eating at the moment. Could she have caught some kind of bug while on her trip? I once again ate alone at the table.

Ariel seemed in better spirits the next day. She had always been a social butterfly. I got a few more words out of her even though she still wasn't eating. She told me the trip had been fun, and she had spent almost all the time there with her friend. Ariel was only seven, so I didn’t push about the details too much yet. I figured when she wanted to tell me more she would.

I sent her outside to play in the background. The afternoon had turned out to be a pleasant mixture of warm sunshine and a cool breeze that swept in through the open windows. We had a fenced in yard so I wasn’t concerned and I told Ariel to come get me if she needed something. She took her Barbie dolls out with her.

I went upstairs to pull her bedding to wash. When I got to the top of the stairs a new smell hit my nostrils. Sweet like candy, I followed it and ended up in my daughter's room. The sunlight struggled to push through her drawn blinds and drapes and gave the entire room a faint pink atmosphere.

I discovered the source of the smell. It was from a small bottle of perfume sitting on Ariel's dresser. I brought the glass bottle close and inhaled again. Cotton candy came to mind. I closed the bottle back up, realizing I hadn't seen this one before. Ariel was always getting into my wife's perfume so I wasn’t surprised it would end up in her room.

One of the two windows in her room overlooked our backyard. I decided to check on her so I reached and separated two of the blinds. I scanned the yard for a few seconds when I locked eyes with Ariel. She was standing up next to her dollhouse and was staring straight up at me. Her long hair blowing slightly in the breeze with eyes like two daggers pointed at me ready to thrust forward and pierce my flesh.

I gasped, let go of the blinds, and took a step back. A freezing chill went down my spine like someone dropping an ice cube down my back. I stood motionless and stared. I imagined her still standing there in the green grass, glaring at me through the blinds.

Relieved when my wife Sarah got home later, Ariel was up in her room, still quiet as a mouse like before. Coming in through the front door, I motioned for her to follow me into the living room. I spoke to her in a whispered hush.

"Something is going on with Ariel. Ever since she's been home she's been acting weird, and she hasn’t been eating either."

"Did she act like she was sick?" Sarah said.

"I checked her yesterday, and her temp was normal. But when I felt her forehead it was freezing, like ice."

"I'll go see her. Probably just needed a day or two to rest. Remember this was her first time being away from us for a while. By the way, nice to see you too dear." We both chuckled at her comment.

"You're probably right. Mom knows best." I said and went to sit down in my lazy boy chair. Sarah started upstairs, the steps creaking with each step she took. "Oh hey… did you get a new perfume recently? Has a sweet smell to it?"

"No why?" she said.

"Oh, it's probably not important… we can talk about it tomorrow. Good night, love you."

Sarah continued upstairs until I couldn’t hear the creaking anymore. The rest of the night the house was silent until I came up for bed.

Laying there next to Sarah already passed out I found it difficult to relax. The events of the previous two days were still fresh and cycling through my mind. I noticed sounds seeping in through our open bedroom door. I sat up in bed and tried to focus on what I was hearing.

It sounded like someone mumbling but even when I focused I couldn’t make out where it was coming from. When I looked out into the darkness of the hallway towards Ariel's room I swear I saw a flash of red. It vanished just as quickly, and I noticed then the mumbling noises had stopped.

I rest of the night dragged on. And the sweet smell emitting from her room grew stronger.

The following day we went to Sunday mass as a family. On the ride there both Ariel and Sarah were quiet in the car. The hum of the engine and the twang of country music was all that filled the silence. Pulling into a parking space and unbuckling, our ears were assailed by a shrill scream coming from the back of the car.

Ariel was violently thrashing around in her seat. All four of her limbs were flying about, and her eyes were wide in terror. She struggled to unlock the door but her fastened seat belt held her in place. Sarah spoke. "What's wrong with her?! David do something!"

I did the only thing I could think of. I got us the hell out of there before anyone else could hear what was happening. The thought of taking her straight to the emergency room ran through my mind. But as soon as we were out of the church parking lot Ariel's tantrum ceased. We went straight home afterward. Sarah and I looked at each other when I put the car into park. We looked back at Ariel. She was sitting up straight in her seat, and I swear I could make out a smirk on her face.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Ariel spent most of the day in her room. Sarah expressed her concerns about Ariel's health. "Something isn't right with her. She's never behaved like this before."

"I know, but she doesn’t seem physically sick. Other than not eating much I don’t know what it could be."

"Did she say anything about her trip to you?" Sarah said. She was pacing the living room floor.

"Not really, no. Maybe it's some kind of phase she's going through." Sarah didn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

"Well, whatever it is I'm calling to make an appointment for her on Monday to see her primary."

Later that night I awoke to the sound of muffled voices. They were coming from Ariel's room again. I sat up in bed and peered into the dark hallway. Her bedroom door shut, just barely illuminated from the faint night light outreaching from the bathroom. I got up and slowly made my way towards her door, the sound of whispering still hitting my ears.

Reaching for the knob I opened the door. The hinges creaked even as I tried to restrain my arm's movement. My nose once again drew in the sweet perfume smell as I entered. I hadn't noticed that I was no longer hearing the voices that had awoken me a moment earlier.

I used the light from my phone to illuminate and scan the room as best as I could. Ariel's bed was empty. I checked in the closet and under her bed. Nothing. I called out in a hush. "Ariel? Are you in here?" Still finding no trace of her I turned to leave, and that’s when her open bedroom door slowly creaked shut. Trapped now the light of my phone being swallowed up by the darkness. I felt like I was in an abyss with no way out.

As I stood in what I thought was the middle of the room, I felt something wet smack on my right hand as I gripped my phone. I examined my hand using my phone, and that’s when I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. There was blood where I had felt the smack. Looking down at the floor I saw a rabbit's head. Drenched in blood and where its eyes should've been were now bloody chasms. And the blood looked wet. Fresh.

I let out my held breath as I tasted bile deep in my throat. The sweet candy smell mixed with the metallic of blood was overwhelming and I made for the door again, this time determined to let nothing stop me. I found the bronze door knob and felt an instant panic to open the door. But then I heard a deep resonating voice from somewhere in the room. Deeper than a man's voice should be. "Daddy, don’t leave now. The fun is just beginning." The voice was Ariel's, but it was something else's as well. A malevolent sounding one mangled with hers.

Still facing the door, something smacked the back of my head. It was wet, and I dared not reach back to see what it was. I turned around, this time more angry than scared. About to scream out to whatever was in there with me, I stopped when I saw two red blinking orbs looking at me. Looking at me from the ceiling.

I heard growling emanate from where the orbs were. It was intense, like hearing a pissed off rottweiler when you run into it on a bad day. I stood motionless and frozen in terror as my muscles would not obey my brain to run.

The red orbs blinked and the growling drew closer, now almost right above my head. I could feel droplets of warm saliva no doubt mixed with blood spray my face as the thing peered down at me. I could see the eyes in greater detail now. The red was bright like a hot burning furnace. Its breath, warm and coming now in stronger puffs, forced me to stay put. The sweet smell had all but dissipated at that point.

Just when I thought it would strike, it spoke. No, not it. It was Ariel I'm sure of it. Somewhere deep down inside she called out to me. "Daddy… help me! Help me, please!"

"Ariel?! Baby? Daddy's here honey!" The thing then lets out a bloodcurdling scream and fell from the ceiling with a thud. I found the light switch seconds later, and then Sarah threw the door open almost knocking me over. "David what on earth is going on?!" Then we both turned to Ariel on the floor. She was naked with her eyes shut. Her nails were long with pointed ends and her hair had turned a sickly gray color like she had aged many years. "My God David what happened?!" I was speechless, not able to form coherent words of any kind.

Ariel is the hospital right now. She's been here for about a week. She hasn’t woken up yet or even moved. The doctors have no explanation for what has happened to her. All they say is that she is in some kind of coma. Their monitoring her brain activity and they're saying that it's showing two distinct brain wave patterns. Someone or something else is in there with Ariel.

I want to believe somehow she reached out that night and saved me from a grisly fate. Possibly Sarah as well. Because all I saw in those red eyes was hatred and malice. I want to believe she is fighting for her very soul right now.

I'm at home alone right now. Sarah said she would let me know of any new developments. I went into Ariel's room the other day. I'm not sure why I did it. Thinking somehow I could find an answer or a way to help her. I found the open bottle of perfume. The sweet smell had all but vanished at that point.

I know now why Ariel or whatever it is she's struggling against brought the perfume home. Because ever since she's been in the hospital there's been another scent I've noticed on her breath. It isn't very strong but if you get close enough, you can just make it out. It took me a while to figure out what it was.

It's sulfur. I know now somehow a demon found her and won't let her go without a fight.

I like to think one day, hopefully soon I'll get my daughter back. But for now I must settle for the sweet smell of cotton candy.

#reddit #nosleep #scary #story

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