#this is why he is the gone girl / amazing amy of the pair

[13eyond13]

You know even if L and Light were both extremely heterosexual men, I still don't get how either one of them wouldn't find it alarmingly sexy that the other one was secretly trying THAT hard to constantly impress them and read their mind and personally entertain them and trip them specifically and ONLY them up

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 30

Author’s note: It’s been 7 chapters (and 2,5 years, oh God!) since I introduced the Hayffie baby names Ian and Amy/Amandalyn to our fandom for the very first time. Will we watch them being born in today’s chapter? Read and find out! Also, wanted to take a moment to thank you all for the AMAZING response to the last chapter! You absolutely rock and it’s a big reason why this chapter was written and published so fast. That’s the kind of power readers can have on a story’s progress. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Hayffie Post-Mockingjay Multi-chapter, Rated M Chapter 30 As old as life itself ”How would you like rabbit pie with wild mushrooms for dinner?” Katniss asked and dropped her game bag onto the table. She took a cheese bun from the top of the bread basket and had a bite. It was good to be home again. She’d been a-foot all day. “Rooba says hi.” Peeta nodded, hands cupped around a mug of tea. No sugar. There was still some left in the pot and Katniss poured herself a cup. Talking about her day out in the woods she joined him at the table. Peeta listened but like his father back in the day he didn’t seem to have a lot to say this evening. Nothing but a nod here and there as the cup turned cold in his hands. Finally Katniss couldn’t miss the lack of response. “What’s wrong?” Peeta drew a breath. Let out a sigh before he said, “Effie called. She’s gone into labor early.”

“Oh. That’s normal, isn’t it?” Katniss frowned, not sure herself. “With twins. You just go to the hospital. Have them.” “Yes, I don’t think there’s anything wrong.” He silenced. “Haymitch is not with her.” “Why not?” “No idea. She woke up and… he just wasn’t there anymore.” “Oh, Haymitch,” Katniss sighed into her cup. “Effie believes he might have taken the train home. Asked us to let him know what’s going on once he gets here.” A frown marred Katniss’s face, hearing those words. She tapped a dirty nail against the ceramic mug, then gave a firm shake of her head. “I don’t believe it.” “He’s only had four months to get used to this…” “I know and I don’t believe it. Haymitch is not a quitter. He’s just at a bar somewhere.” “Maybe. And that’s not much better. Either way, Effie’s alone and he’s gonna miss it all.” “If he’s drunk it’s probably best if he’s not in the room.” The harsh words were betrayed by the tired look in Katniss’s gray eyes. “He can see them all come morning.” They lapsed into silence. What else was there to say? Peeta lifted his mug but lowered it again without a sip. “I want to do something for them,” he said, lips pressed together in determination. “Like what?” “I don’t know. Something.” They sat across from each other, racking their brains for anything good. Katniss spoke up first. “I’ve got an idea.” xXx ”99 bottles of beer on the wall. 99 bottles of beer.” Haymitch lay cheek down against his arm slung over the counter. He reached inside the peanut bowl, got himself a nut and placed it after the wobbly “E” on the smooth surface, creating a dot. “Take one down, pass it around. 98 bottles of beer on the wall.” He lifted his glass and drank but not too steady on his hand liquor rolled down his chin and onto the front of his shirt. ”Oh, shit…” “Mr. Haymitch?” He wiped his face with his hand and dried it on his pants. Helped himself with another mouthful. “98 bottles of beer on the wall. 98 bottles of beeer.” ”Mr. Haymitch? Mr. Haymitch!” Someone tugged on his shirt tail and he waved his hand in the air, like warding off a fly. “Take one down, pass it around. 97 bottles of beer on the wa... aah!” His arm shot out clutching the counter by the next forceful tug that damn near pulled him off his stool. Peanuts flew every which way. “What the hell!?” he spat and turned around. A pair of big brown eyes stared into his. Frightened but standing her ground. Light brown hair tied up with ribbons. A girl. Just a little girl. She couldn’t be older than twelve. He blinked hard several times to make the two images of her emerge into one. “Who’re you?” She looked familiar. “Grace, Mr Haymitch,” the girl said. “Gracie.” Oh. Right. Effie’s student. He grunted and returned to his drink. “You shouldn’t be here, girl. This place ain’t for kids.” He lifted his glass and slumped it back down. Bone dry. His wallet was on the counter. He opened it and sighed at the lone coins. He’d burned through both his and Effie’s money in just a couple of hours and he didn’t even notice. He glanced at the girl, still there. “Why don’t you go play with your friends, kiddo.” Gracie didn’t move. She crossed her arms and un-crossed them, watching him. “What?” He turned fully on her again. Couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. “What can I help you with?” “Ms. Effie,” the girl said, her voice small but clear. “It’s about Ms. Effie, Mr. Haymitch.” “What about her?” “She’s at the hospital right now. Everyone says so. They say Ms. Effie’s gone into labor and that you’re not there.” It took a moment for the words to register. Even longer for them to make sense. ”What?” he got out, limbs flooding with panic. ”What?” “They think you abandoned her, Mr. Haymitch, but I thought maybe not so I went to come find you.” “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He stumbled more than climbed down from his chair and the world made an alarming tilt. “When!?” He all but shook the answer out of her. “When did she go to the hospital?” “I don’t know.” “Fuck!!” He pocketed his wallet. The brightness of the mall hit him like a sledgehammer when he staggered out the pub. “No, Mr. Haymitch. This way!” Gracie called after him and he skidded to a stop. Almost tumbled over when he followed her. Across the way, seated at his old table, Paulus Bell watched them go. xXx “Effie Trinket. She’s here. I mean… Haymitch Abernathy. Here to see Eff. I mean Effs Trinket. She’s in labor!” Ocean resided the reception today. That was his usual luck. And yeah, Ocean really was her name. Sky blue hair. A heart-shaped face. Cold pink eyes. Her lips were pressed to non-existence as she watched the wild man before her. “Please keep to your side of the glass, Mr. Abernathy.” Haymitch cussed and stepped back. “There, happy?” he said, arms out. “When do I get to see her?” “ID, please.” “What?” “I need to see some identification.” “You’re kidding, right?” “I am not, sir.” “He’s the mentor of District 12,” Gracie chimed in. “Damn straight, I am! Whole bloody country knows my face!” “That doesn’t earn you special treatment, sir.” ”I haven’t had an ID in all my life! You know me! You’ve seen me here with Effie a dozen times!” “Sir, if you don’t keep the volume down I must ask you to leave.” “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Is this cause I said you got a stick up your ass? Well, I’m sorry. Couldn’t tell what else was wrong with you.” Ocean sucked in a breath, back straight as a steel poker. “You district people are all the same! Every last one of…” “Something the matter here?” All three of them looked up. An Asian doctor approached. Haymitch knew it was a doctor. He’d recognize that white coat anywhere. His silver streaked hair and beard matched the ten well-tended finger nails. “She won’t let me in!” Haymitch pointed to the tight-lipped receptionist. “Eff’s giving birth right now!” The doctor listened to the spew of words with a vacant look in his dark brown eyes. Finally he cut in. “You’re drunk, Mr. Abernathy.” “I know I’m bloody drunk!” The other men and women in the waiting room squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. “What kinda morons runs this place!?” “Mr. Abernathy. This is a hospital. I must ask you to contain yourself.” “I’m the father, damn it! I should be here! I promised her I’d be here! If you don’t want me to turn this place upside down you let me see her NOW!” The doctor turned to Ocean. “Call security.” “Oh, for Christ sake, no! No,” Haymitch said and all his fire died out. “I’ll be good. I swear it. Please just… They’re my kids. Come on! Let Effie know I’m here at least. That’s all I’m asking. If she doesn’t want me in the room, then I’m gone. I’m gone!” xXx ”Unbelievable.” With a protective hand over her belly and pinching her nose the last lady rose from her chair and walked to the opposing wall. She was in good company. More than one set of eyes glared at the former mentor surrounded by all those empty chairs. People who would rather stand and wait than succumb to the smell of hard liquor reeking out his very pores. Haymitch didn’t even notice or if he did he didn’t care. Collapsed in a pink couch, elbows on his thighs he kept his head braced between his hands as if to block out a painful sound. “You pathetic, low-life, useless, no-good, miserable, vile, foolish, loathsome…” “Mr. Abernathy, I presume?” “Mr. Haymitch.” Gracie whom had remained faithfully at his side prodded Haymitch’s shoulder. He scrambled to his feet like his ass was on fire. Arms helplessly at his sides, body swaying like a sailor at sea his eyes hung on to the male nurse before him. “How is she? Did I miss it? Can I see her?” “You arrived at the last moment, Mr. Abernathy,” he said, neither kind nor unkindly. “Follow me.” He struggled to keep up. Bit the inside of his cheek until it bled to stop the world from reeling out of control. The elevator arrived, mercifully empty. It was a slow ride but the slight sucking sensation in his stomach was enough. He groaned, thrown back in time to those retched elevator rides with Effie at the Training Center. Twelve fucking floors! Now he only had to suffer through four but even that was almost more than he could bear. “Why’s there no air in this thing?” he slurred, more to himself than the nurse. Groaning, he leaned over against a corner, one hand clutching the wall, the other one the mirror, leaving a hand print of cold sweat on the surface. “Mr. Abernathy,” said the nurse, more in alarm over the clean floors than him, that’s for sure. “I’m fine,” Haymitch snarl at the floor. After what felt like 84 years the elevator dinged open on the fourth floor. He heard her before he saw her. When the nurse opened one of the many anonymous doors and he stepped inside. The hair on his forearms stood right up from the sounds she was making. The door closed behind him but he was frozen to the spot. His mouth filled with saliva at a ridiculous rate. He swallowed and swallowed but it didn’t help. The fresh waves of nausea turned into cramps that seared through his stomach. Wanted him on his knees. Walk. Just walk. He approached the bed surrounded by stranger nurses. “Eff.” The room swam before his eyes and now she saw him. Panting hard and quick, her color hectic, her soft, strawberry hair clinging to her with sweat she wasn’t able to form any words. Neither good nor bad. There was nothing left but agony. A pain he caused. He wanted to run away. Just run for Twelve and hide under a blanket. Most of all he wanted to escape Effie’s eyes. A look that would haunt him for as long as he lived. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. But not a single word came over his lips. He was avox-mute. Either way, there was no time for forgiveness now. He’d never felt more powerless. He didn’t even take Effie’s hand. He did bloody nothing but stand by her side and try not to puke, like the drunken fool he was. What do I do? He wanted to holler it from the top of his lungs. What do I do? Tell me what do to! New cramps clutched his insides like Effie clutched the sheets. With her eyes squeezed shut, a guttural noise started deep within her throat. A sound that only grew louder and louder and he stumbled back from the bed, away from her. “Haymitch!” He heard her desperate cry, like something out of a nightmare, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. He pushed inside the adjacent bathroom and hurled into the toilet bowl. A vile concoction of cheese and toast and salami and floods of hard liquor. He heaved and heaved until there was nothing left but bile. Tears dropped down his nose and into the mess. He wiped his mouth with his hand and only managed to soil the shirt sleeve. “Mr. Abernathy.” A nurse stood in the doorway. The same or a different one, he couldn’t tell them apart. “I think it’s best if you go get some air.” For the most fleeting of moments he considered the idea. The offer of a way out. That it would be better for Effie; better for all involved if he just removed himself from the situation. He could be a house plant for all the good he did Effie right now. Then he heard her voice from the other room. Words he could hardly even make out for the ringing in his ears. “I want to go home,” she sobbed. “Please, just let me go home.” “No.” He struggled to his feet, knees shaking so badly they almost didn’t carry him. “Mr. Abernathy…” “No! She needs me. I won’t fucking abandon her.” The nausea had subsided. For now, anyway. He rinsed the foulness from his mouth. Washed his hands and cupped them under the faucet. Gave his red, bloated face a good splash. His shirt was soiled with puke and he pulled it over his head, dried himself with the clean part and tossed it in a corner, standing there in just his threadbare old undershirt where pink skin showed through the moth holes. Effie lifted her gaze when he reappeared and he expected something along the line of “Get out of here!” and “I never want to see you again!” Instead she reached her hand out to him. Tears and perspiration ran down her face. She reached out like a woman drowning and he was there. Clasped her hand in both of his. It didn’t strike him as nearly enough but what else could he do? One of the nurses helped him with a chair and he sank into it thankfully. “I know you’re tired, Ms. Trinket,” said the women in between Effie’s legs. Steel hair. Red rimmed glasses. Her he knew. Loredana. The midwife. “But I need you to give me a few more pushes. Just a couple more and they’ll be here. Amy and Ian will be here.” Effie clutched Haymitch’s hand and he squeezed back. “OK.” She sniffed and wiped her tears with her free hand. “OK.” And when it happened it happened quickly. Standing by Effie’s head he didn’t see much of the action. When the first baby slid out of Effie and into the midwife’s waiting hands. Nothing but a foot when it poked up between Effie’s legs. Just a little foot, dotted with blood and God knew what else. He couldn’t tear his eyes off of it and the next moment fierce cries filled the room. Impossibly loud and absolutely furious. One moment it was just them and the next someone else was in the room, demanding to be acknowledged. Loredana’s skilled hands held the baby and Haymitch got a glimpse of a beet-red face, toothless gums, hands clutched into fists. Their first one. Their girl. He resisted the urge to cover his ears at the sounds she was making. Like she couldn’t believe what they were doing to her. One of the nurses went to the silver tray where they kept the torture instruments or whatever the hell it was and picked something up that looked like an odd pair of scissors. She handed them over to Loredana, holding his daughter. “No,” Haymitch said, in alarm. He tried to get up but Effie held him back, speaking soft words. “Don’t worry, Mr. Abernathy,” said Loredana, focused on the infant. “I just need to cut the umbilical cord. She won’t feel a thing.” She took care of her and swathed her in a blanket. Amy kept on crying and Haymitch kept on staring. Effie wanted to hold her but she never got the chance. “Oh, sweet mercy!” She clutched her tummy. Loredana smiled. “Someone is eager to join his sister.” She handed Amy over to one of the nurses who stepped back from the birthing bed and Haymitch was struck by the same irrational fear. A stab to the belly. No! Don’t take her away! But Effie clutched his hand and he couldn’t run in either direction. This was only half-done. And so their son was born. Another purple little bundle. Loredana welcomed him like she had his sister and swathed him up in a blanket. Ian was slightly smaller than Amy but with the same full head of hair. Slick and wet, you couldn’t tell the color just now. Not yet. Beautiful. He let out a series of squeaks that were Effie spot on. Their cries filled the room, brother and sister both. Filled the whole world. Haymitch’s heart pounded in his ears as he watched Ian. This precious little person. Good God. “Haymitch?” Effie’s voice reached him like from underwater. All he really heard was their helpless cries, growing louder and louder all the time. His breaths grew short and quick. His mouth had gone so dry he couldn’t even swallow. “Haymitch, are you OK?” Loredana and the nurse walked in on them to put the newborns to Effie’s chest and it was like he snapped out of his daze. “No!” They stopped in their tracks. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Effie. I can’t! I’m not cut out for it. I can’t do it!” Effie didn’t let go of his hands. Her eyes flitted to Loredana. “Can you give us a minute?” “Sure,” said Loredana and all of them quietly retreated to the other side of the room. “I can’t be a father!” Haymitch’s blood-shot eyes shone with tears. “You were right not to tell me. I’m a toxic wasteland. I’m nothing but broken pieces. You should keep them as far away from me as possible!” “Haymitch, listen to me,” Effie’s words were soft as a caress. Firm as a cliff in the storm. “It’s OK to be scared. I’m scared too. Everyone is.” Tears rolled down Haymitch’s cheeks and into his beard. He couldn’t help it. “I’m gonna destroy them.” “You won’t. Their lives will be better for having you in it. They’re going to be fine, Haymitch. All three of you will. Just… surrender. I’m here with you. I’ll be here every step of the way.” Haymitch sobbed, eyes squeezed shut. Shoulder-racking sobs he couldn’t control as he clung to her hands just as much as her words. “Do you hear that?” Effie said. “How quiet it is. They have already come to a rest. It was just the initial shock. It’s no fun being squeezed out from a warm, snug place into this cold, bright world.” She caressed his hand that clutched hers. Spoke in the same soothing voice. “The only thing that really matters is that they’re loved. Loved and secure. You do love them, don’t you?” Haymitch choked back a sob. “Yeah,” was all he could manage. He nodded. “Yes.” Effie cupped his cheek. “Then everything is going to be OK.” Loredana and the nurse holding Amy and Ian returned to the bed. “Ms. Trinket. Mr. Abernathy,” said the midwife. “Would you like to meet your son and daughter?” Haymitch rubbed his tears with his forearm as Loredana placed the newborns in Effie’s waiting arms. Amy on the right and Ian on the left. Their eyes were closed. They’d gone to asleep, at least as far as he could tell. Effie smiled at him. Her cheeks were rosy from the ordeal. Her strawberry hair a mess. She’d never looked more beautiful. His gaze returned to the babies, stunned over how everything had changed so fast. “Why’re they covered in cream cheese?” Amy and Ian bounced against Effie’s chest when she chuckled. He didn’t dare touch them. Not with his big, clumsy hands. Nothing so pure and innocent should ever be man-handled by him. But Effie, when he caressed her hair – uncertain at first if she even wanted him so close – she leaned her cheek into his touch. He tried to speak but not a word made it over his lips. She dropped a kiss to the inside of his palm and gazed back at the twins, sleeping in her arms. She smiled. “I did good, didn’t I?” “They’re perfect.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “But they’re yours, so…” “They’re ours.” Author’s note: And Haymitch and Effie are parents! What did you think? Tell me in the comments! And heroine Gracie to the rescue! <3 I actually have a theme song for her called “Tiny Voice” by Lexi Walker. If you don’t get goose bumps listening to it you don’t have skin. ;)

[massivedrickhead]

Can you do Kiss for the potentially romantic prompts? Please and thanks 🙂

[ KISS ] : sender kisses receiver in order to protect their identities, but is the kiss completely professional? or is there something else...?

From this list of prompts.

I kinda ended up moving away from the prompt a bit, but I think what I did still counts? Let me know🙈

Read on AO3

Taking advantage of the break in conversation, Chloe turned away from the Bellas, who were squashed into a booth, and back towards the bar.

She felt like Beca had been gone for an eternity, and she’d had to keep fighting the urge to turn around and look for her.

She couldn’t deal with the girls teasing her tonight, and she knew her looking for Beca every five minutes would only add more fuel to that fire.

It took a little longer than it usually would for Chloe to spot her. Normally Chloe’s eyes found Beca before her mind even knew she was looking for her. Normally, Beca stood out like she had a spotlight on her.

But in this overly crowded bar, where somehow everyone was dressed just a little bit like Beca, Chloe was finding it more difficult.

Every flannel shirt was on someone else’s back. Every lock of wavy brown hair wasn’t a lock of Beca’s wavy brown hair.

Every pair of jeans ripped at the knee, or scuffed boot, or scary (sexy) ear-spike, belonged to someone else.

Chloe started to wonder if she was being pranked until she finally spotted Beca at the very end of the bar.

Chloe couldn’t stop the frown that spread across her face, or the way her eyebrows pulled together.

She never was very good at hiding her emotions.

Beca - who was still trying her best to get the bartender’s attention so she could get served - was currently being hit on by a beard in a flannel shirt.

He was smiling, leaning against the bar with his own drink, looking down at her. He was clearly talking about something that he found fascinating, and didn’t seem to be picking up on Beca’s ‘please leave me alone’ face.

Beca turned her head away from him, looking back towards the booth where they were sitting, and seemed to deflate with relief when she saw that Chloe was looking at her.

She gave Chloe a look that said ‘Dude, help me’ and Chloe was only too happy to oblige.

“There you are!” Chloe said, brightly as she got within earshot of Beca and her new friend. She placed a hand on Beca’s back and kissed her lightly on the cheek. “You’ve been gone for hours.” Chloe pouted, her arm draping around Beca’s shoulder now. She felt Beca relax against her, as she reached up to take Chloe’s hand.

“So dramatic, babe,” Beca said, following Chloe’s lead. “Sorry dude,” Beca added, turning back to the guy, “this is my girlfriend Chloe.”

“Girlfriend?” He said, frowning, “you didn’t-”

“Chloe, this is Matt-”

“-Mark-”

“He’s really into IPAs.”

“Nice to meet you Matt,” Chloe said, brightly. “I hope you weren’t hitting on my girlfriend,” she added with a wink.

“It’s Mark,” he said. “You never said you had a girlfriend.”

“Was I supposed to?”

“I mean… It's only polite. Some guy starts talking to you, you should let him know you aren’t available. Kinda wasted my time,” he said, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry dude, I thought you were just being friendly,” Beca said, with a shrug. She turned back to Chloe. “Can you get this guy to serve me? I never have any luck in this bar.”

“Sure babe,” Chloe said, leaning forward slightly, grinning as the bartender spotted her. She waved him over.

“You know what,” Mark said, looking more annoyed now. “I don’t believe it.”

“Don’t believe what?” Beca asked.

“Don’t believe you two as a couple. I mean she doesn’t exactly look…”

“Look what?” Chloe asked. Her smile was still on her face but there was something dangerous in her eyes now. “Look gay?”

“I just think you guys are doing that thing that girls do when they want a guy to leave them alone,” he said. “And that’s not fair. I’m a nice guy, you should give me a chance.”

Beca rolled her eyes and Chloe focused her attention on the bartender again.

“I dunno what to tell you dude,” Beca said. “Can I get two bottles of Bud Light please and a,” she turned to Chloe, “Vodka and Diet Coke?” Chloe nodded with another smile. “Vodka Diet Coke please.”

“Sure thing,” the bartender said before moving away to get their drinks.

“Look,” Mark said, speaking up again in what was clearly some last ditch attempt. “Prove it to me.”

“What?” Chloe asked.

“If you’re really a couple, prove it. Kiss or something.”

“Dude you’re being gross,” Beca said, shaking her head and turning away from him.

“Come on,” he said. “I think you’re lying.”

“Fine,” Chloe said, her hand coming to rest on Beca’s jaw. “If it’ll make you leave us alone, we’ll kiss.”

“No,” Beca said, sounding disgusted as she turned away to face Mark again. Chloe moved her hand and tried not to let this sudden stab of rejection show on her face. “No, we’re not gonna put on some show for you. We don’t owe you anything. Look, dude, either one of two things is happening. Number 1, you’re harassing a couple and being kinda homophobic in the process-”

“-I didn’t say anything homo-”

“-Or two,” Beca said, cutting him off, “I’m lying to you in order to make you leave me alone. In both of these scenarios, I don’t want to spend any more time with you. If I have to lie about a relationship to get you to leave me alone that should kind of indicate to you that this thing we have might not be going anywhere. So can you, like, fuck off?”

He straightened up. “Fine.” He finished his drink and put his glass back on the bar with a thump. “Bitch.”

“Thanks for that,” Beca said to Chloe once Mark had left.

“No problem,” Chloe said, taking her drink and walking back to the table.

“Wait, dude, are you mad at me?” Beca asked.

“No, of course not,” Chloe said, smiling sweetly. “Babe.” Chloe squeezed herself into the booth again, leaving Beca standing, looking at her in confusion.

“What did I do?”

“Uh oh,” Cynthia-Rose muttered.

“Our Mom’s are fighting again,” Emily said.

“Chloe?” Beca asked, ignoring them.

“You couldn’t have just kissed me? You had to go on a whole tirade and break that guy down because the thought of kissing me was so bad?” Chloe asked.

“Are you serious right now? He was being gross, I’m not putting on a fucking show for him to jerk off to later tonight,” Beca said.

“You were fine with calling me babe and letting me put my arm around you and stuff,” Chloe said.

“That’s different,” Beca said. “Look, can we go outside or something?”

“Why?”

“Because I wanna have an adult conversation with you, and I don’t want Amy live-tweeting it.”

“Fine,” Chloe said, taking a large swallow of her drink before setting the glass down and following Beca out of the bar.

It was cold outside, and Chloe immediately wrapped her arms around herself.

On instinct, Beca pulled off her jacket and wrapped it around Chloe’s shoulders, and Chloe felt herself soften immediately. The scowl in her face disappeared, and she closed her eyes as Beca tugged the jacket so it covered her better.

“What just happened?” Beca asked. “I feel like I missed something.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, softly. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that in front of the girls.”

“Did I do something?”

“No,” Chloe said. “Not really. It’s just… I guess I got a little caught up in our act. And when you turned away it felt like… it was like the idea of kissing me was so awful that you would rather chew this guy out than do it. And you hate confrontation, so you must have hated the thought of kissing me more. I’m not mad that you didn’t want to kiss me. It’s just… the way you said no. Like… like you’d just tasted something bad. It kinda hurt my feelings.”

“Chlo’,” Beca said, softly, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come across that way.”

“You don’t need to say sorry,” Chloe said. “You have every right to reject me, I’m just a little drunk and emotional tonight.”

“Chloe, you realise you’re like my favourite person in the whole world, right? There isn’t a universe that exists in which I don’t want to kiss you,” Beca said, holding onto the ends of the jacket around Chloe’s shoulders, pulling her forward slightly. “I just didn’t want our first kiss to be like that. I didn’t want it to be surrounded by people gawking, for the benefit of some lowlife. I want it to be real. I want it to mean something. I don’t want it to be the only one.”

“But you do want it?” Chloe asked, her voice so small and hopeful that it almost broke Beca’s heart.

“Of course I want it. God, you have no idea… you’re everything to me, Chloe Beale. And when we kiss, it’s going to be the start of something amazing,” Beca said, pulling her even closer.

“Sounds like you’ve thought about this,” Chloe said, her eyes inevitably dropping to Beca’s lips.

“I have. A lot. For a long time,” Beca said.

“Why did you wait?”

“Why did you?”

Chloe laughed, and Beca felt it against her lips.

“Is this happening?” Chloe asked, as Beca pulled her a little closer.

“I think so,” Beca said, grinning. “Just promise me that this kiss is the beginning of something, not the end.”

“Hmm. That all depends on how good a kisser you are Mitchell.”

“I guess I’ll let you be the judge of that,” Beca said, before she gave the jacket one final tug and closed the distance between them.

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

winter in itaewon || Choi Beomgyu

Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x gamer!fem!reader

Genre/s: Fluff; Angst; Humor (if you squint)

Word count: 5,0k

Warning/s: it is implied that reader was subject to violence (once); although it says the reader is a gamer, there are not that many references towards to actual gaming lmao; this was proofread like once (😭)

Hyunjin and Jeongin take Beomgyu out to the PC Room in Itaewon for his birthday; a year after their last visit. As he reminisces the events of the year before, every corner of his mind is revisited by her — as if he were capable of forgetting her anyway.

a/n: happy beomgyu day!!💞 the inspiration to write this hit me in the middle of the night, coming from these kickass headcannons by sumi, and it's completely different to the initial idea i shared with amie sksjsjs alsothislowkeysucks. nevertheless, i hope you all enjoy!!

12 March 2021, 23:30

Despite being embraced by his thick padded coat, the freezing air still managed to disrupt the warmth in annoying, sharp gusts every time the wind blew. Itaewon was always more alive while the rest of Seoul slept soundly, and tonight was no exception. The streets were aglow with the lambent signage of the many stalls and establishments which lined it’s pavements, and were filled with clusters of people who either visited the stores, window-shopped or were simply enjoying the night-life.

Beomgyu wasn’t very enthusiastic about joining Hyunjin and Jeongin when they had initially posed the idea. He’d been spending much of his time in the studio and practice room, so the plan was to get some sleep when he had some free time. His conscience eventually got the better of him, though – he hadn’t been able to meet up with his friends in months due to work and the pandemic, and his scheduled birthday live thwarted the possibility of holding it off until the following day.

“Are you good?” Jeongin asked, pulling Beomgyu out of his thoughts, arching a brow at his dazed friend. He noticed that he had been lagging behind the two of them, and that their features were now etched with concern. Beomgyu pushed the bangs out of his face before waving them off, mumbling that he’s okay.

There was a look in their eyes that Beomgyu couldn’t quite decipher, but pushed it off as nothing when Jeongin draped an arm over his shoulder and lead him further down the street. His feet stopped squarely when they made it to the PC Room, cementing themselves before the front door. Jeongin looked at Beomgyu and smiled.

“Are you coming in?”

It wasn’t that Beomgyu didn’t want to respond, he simply couldn’t. Sure, it may have seemed like a trivial thing to answer, the words just wouldn’t formulate coherent sentences – his mind didn’t have the capacity to make them. Her. That was the only thing it could manifest. Her. 

The pressure of a years-worth of his bottled emotions had finally blew it’s top – thoughts, images and memories which had been ingrained into his subconscious coming forth to hit him like a train.

“We’ll wait for you inside, then.”

31 December 2019, 22:00

Laughter ringing through the air, Hyunjin, Jeongin and Beomgyu pushed open the door to the PC Room. Beomgyu stopped at the door while the other two signed in, arms rubbing away the remnants of snow on the arms of his black coat. Removing his mask, he smiled into the warmth of the heated building. Their schedules after debut had left no space for any recreation, so it was liberating to spend New Years Eve with his friends, doing what he does best.

“Ready to have your butts kicked?” Beomgyu cackled, with his whole chest, as they took their seats next to one another in the isle, earning him much-deserved glares. As soon as he’s logged on and the headset is donned however, his usually playful demeanour is replaced by one of a much calmer nature – studying the map, observing enemy tactics and carefully directing his support as his fingers glide skilfully across the keyboard.

Hyunjin groaned after the umpteenth attempt to beat him, dropping the headset onto the desk as Jeongin whined into his hands. A smirk rolled onto Beomgyu’s lips as he leaned back into the swivel chair, flashing his brows at them. “I refuse to believe this is possible, it’s got to be rigged!”

“Ah, after all this time I’ve still got it,” Beomgyu retorted, chuffed with himself for doing as well as he knew he would. Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if I ranked first with the amount of times I kicked ass on this server.”

Jeongin, who had taken it upon himself to do the fact-checking, smirked at the screen before calling the two of them over. “Actually–”

Beomgyu screamed in frustration, tossing the headset onto the desk before pushing against it, sending him flying across the floor in the chair. No matter how hard he tried, no matter the strategy he just couldn’t beat the player in first place. The commotion startled the other two, who had fallen asleep waiting for Beomgyu to finish up, the satisfaction of witnessing his losses long past.

“Just one more game, I swear!” he whined as they dragged him away from the PC screen.

Hyunjin seethed, “that’s what you said three hours ago! No, we’re leaving. Jeongin’s parents have been waiting up for us.”

Beomgyu huffed at the front counter. While the older took care of the bill, he found that the room was completely empty – almost. The light emanating from a desk directly across from where he stood, lit up the face of a young-looking girl. She seemed to be in high school (that’s what the uniform she wore indicated atleast) and the big, round, metal-framed glasses settled on the bridge of her nose, mirrored the computer screen. The sight pacified Beomgyu, for a reason he couldn’t quite explain, a smile stretching across his face.

He sauntered closer, eyes searching around for nothing in particular, trying not to look like a creep as he approached you. His smile only grew when he found her eyebrows knitted together, teeth biting down on her bottom lip in concentration. And then he saw it. The graphics reflecting from her glasses seeming all to familiar to him, he rushed around the desk, eyes darting to the top corner of the screen.

ID: winter996

12 January 2020, 22:30

Beomgyu’s foot tapped impatiently as he waited at the desk closest to the entrance, checking his watch every few minutes, before running a frustrated hand through his soft silvery locks. He had finally gotten the chance to visit the PC room again, most of his time having gone into practice and rehearsals for award show season, and he wasn’t leaving until he saw you again.

He ran out of the practice room as soon as he heard that they would have the following day off; he was exhausted and had been waiting for almost two hours – but he refused to leave until he saw you again.

The owner noticed the boy sitting at the desk he usually reserved for you, lips curling at the sight of the fidgety youth. He had visited on three prior occasions; once with his friends, and the remaining times himself, sitting in exactly the same spot he was now sitting. Instead of chasing him away as he did everyone else, he simply waited to see how this turn of events would unfold.

You pushed open the glass doors with a huff, adjusting the strap of your backpack on your shoulder before blowing the stray hairs from your face. Keeping your eyes fixed on the ground beneath you, you nod to the owner and he returns the gesture with a smile, although he knows you won’t see it.

Beomgyu, who had almost surrendered himself to the fatigue, sat up straight when you pulled back the chair next to him. He watched as you scrunched up your nose in attempt to push your glasses up the bridge of your nose before putting the headset on, and chuckled softly.

He watched in awe as you cleared level after level, climbing the ranks as you went along, with seemingly no effort whatsoever. You kept the mic off and communicated with your group though the chat, which was probably why he never realised you were a girl. Your strategy seemed way too complex for him to understand, and his amazement never faltered for even a second, as you dominated each and every position you played.

It was a little over an hour before you decided to take a break, wondering where the owner was since he usually brought your snacks around that time. Pushing the headset around your neck, you stretched upward to see where he was, only to find yourself roughly pushed back down and turned toward a strange boy whom you’ve never seen before.

His eyes, sparkling with absolute wonder, coaxed your surprise and made your heart race with a feeling as unfamiliar as he was.

“You have to tell me how you do that! Teach me, please, Winter996!”

25 January 2020, 22:30

“Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?” you voice rang from the speaker of Beomgyu’s phone. He never questioned your reasons for not turning your mic on during the game, but insisted that you speak directly to him instead. “On your left, be careful.”

“I know, I see them. And yes, but I have some time before the next session starts.” After much pestering, about something having to do with ‘senseis’ and ‘disciples’, you agreed to let Beomgyu play with you. He was rather beside himself when you told him you never really used any strategy, though; you ‘just did what felt right’.

An adorable smile had tugged at your lips during his three hundred-and-fifty paged slideshow about the importance of strategy and observation, one he would not soon forget.

“You could just wait until Itaewon.”

“Is it my fault you only go when your rank drops?”

Soobin’s dark head of hair popped into the studio, and he glared upon finding Beomgyu tapping away at his laptop on the sofa. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! The break as been over ages ago–”

“(Y/n), (Y/n), go, go! I’ll cover you!”

“Beomgyu, I think–”

“You’re playing again?! With a girl?!”

5 February 2020, 22:00

You’re quieter than usual and Beomgyu noticed right away. Over the phone, you never had any qualms in conversating with him– when you were playing the game, atleast. The thought that it was because of him does cross his mind, but he catches the frown you’re desperately trying to hide, by biting the inside of your cheek.

A thick scarf is wrapped around your neck, your chin buried into the red woolly folds, and your hair frames your face,  but he sees the light swelling on the side of your face and around your eyes that you’re trying to hide. The feeling in the pit of his stomach makes his nails press crescents into the palms of his hands, but he fights the urge to ask.

“Beomgyu! What are you doing! They’re coming!” you yell, pulling him back to reality, hearing the sound of your voice at long last calming him a tad.

“Right, sorry.”

You played together straight through into the early hours of the morning, sharing victory after victory, with him right by your side. You froze up when he instinctively pulled you into a hug upon your last win, gulping as he slowly removed his arms, laughing it off as his adrenaline high peaked higher.

The van’s horn blared outside, catching you both off guard. Beomgyu quickly grabbed his coat before making his way back up the way he came, but paused before he opened the door. Craning his head back to look at you once more, he smiled.

“I’ll text you later.”

12 February 2020, 23:30

Beomgyu’s hands move quickly across the controls, your voice shouting orders to him through the headset as the current game hit it’s climax. Playing with Beomgyu all the time had made you a lot more comfortable with engaging with the other members of your group, so although you were still pretty anxious at first, you made the decision to turn on your mic.

“We did it!” Beomgyu cheered as your team cleared yet another level.

Gaming was something mundane to you and winning was easy; but sneaking out to the PC Room from time to time helped alleviate the pressures of your personal life. The life which you would rather die than share with Beomgyu. But after being swayed by his nonsensical attempts at convincing you, logging onto the server had become your favorite thing to do.

Every victory felt extraordinary when shared with him, and you could have sworn that at that very moment, you could see the way the ends of his eyes creased as the edges of his lips pushed up his cheeks. The way his arms would be stretched up in happiness, as his intoxicating laugher filled the air.

On the other end, Beomgyu leaned back into his desk chair, smiling into the darkness, envisioning the way you’d be pretending it was no big deal whilst your eyes sparkled with happiness and a smile dug into your rosey cheeks.

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

You hummed into the mic, your head rested on the desk and your eyes closed, just listening to his voice, savoring every second of it.

“Do you...have a Valentine or something?”

14 February 2020, 18:00

From the moment the car pulled up down the street, Beomgyu was unable to take his eyes off from you. His eyes travelled up from the scuffed white sneakers which tapped against the pavement nervously, to the washed out jeans, to the oversized cardigan, which bunched up around the wrists of your hands, which shifted between nervously tucking your hair behind your ears, to pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, to straightening out your outfit.

You were going to be the death of him.

He hurried toward you as soon as he saw you shiver. The sound of his soles against the wet concrete caught your attention and you turned in his direction, the look in your eyes nearly resulting in a fatal blow – the way they bewitched nearly had him hitting his head against the sidewalk.

Your hands tightened around the strap of the bag slung around your shoulder as you watched the dark-haired boy make his way down the street to you, a stupidly giddy-looking expression plastered across his face. You couldn’t stop yourself from feeling the way you did about Beomgyu – even though you knew you shouldn’t.

You were never really interested in fan culture, but some of the girls in your cram school were very invested. When you heard them gushing about a group called ‘Tomorrow X Together’ and it’s members the previous afternoon, a knot formed in your stomach. The first thing you did when you got home, was do research. You decided to listen to all of their albums and watch all of their music videos, interviews and content videos. Unsure what to do with all the new-found information and conflicting emotions, you pulled the covers over your head and tried to sleep instead. But you couldn’t.

Beomgyu flicked the side of your head, bringing you back to the present, and your cheeks flushed upon realization of his proximity. He smirked, wrapping his brown scarf around your neck. “It’s still winter you know, Winter. You should dress warmly.”

You clicked your tongue and pouted at his teasing use of your in-game alias, and marched off without him. He trailed behind you, laughing and relieved that you were no longer frowning as you were before. You froze when he caught up with you, feeling the warmth of his hand as it slipped into yours, tucking it into his coat pocket. Burying your face into his scarf, which smelled just like him, you smiled giddily, letting him pull you along with him.

He took you to dinner and the amusement park after that. He was thrilled to know you liked rollercoasters as much as he did and embarrassed to know he couldn’t even beat you at the kid’s games. He ended up going home with a truckload of new plushies, and you, with ever-increasing feelings that you had no idea what to do with.

28 February 2020, 23:42

Beomgyu burst through the doors of the PC Room no longer than 10 minutes after receiving a call from the owner. He still wore his sleepwear, over which his coat was thrown, his hair was disheveled and his bare left foot was stuffed halfway into a sneaker, while his sock-wearing right foot was slipped into a black slipper.

The owner, with worry painted across his features, cocked his head to the desk where the two of you usually sat. His heart ached at the sight of your curled up figure beneath it. Your bloodshot eyes widened when you realized his presence, the surprise enabling him a few seconds to examine you up and down before you turned away from him. Your bottom lip was cut and bruised, your cheek was swollen and bruises were littered across your face and the length of your arms and neck, your hair as messy as his was.

You insisted that you’re okay, even though he took you into his arms without asking anything at all. You insisted that you’re okay, but as his warmth enveloped you, tears began streaming down your face. He felt the way your body trembled in his arms, so he begins rocking you back and forth slowly, pressing soft kisses into your hair, whispering a single phrase over and over again.

“I’m here.”

4 March 2020, 19:00

Due to the pandemic, one of the award show ceremonies the boys were supposed to attend had been cancelled and moved to a later date. Worried that they’d feel disheartened about their performance, you decided to host a little award ceremony of your own. His friends were as welcoming as he was, so you quickly got along- even more so since Beomgyu stuck even closer to you since that day.

“The first award of the evening,” you announced, clearing your throat in the middle of the living room. The boys, who were cheering your on from their seats on the dorm sofa, quieted down as Yeonjun hushed them, gesturing for you to continue, “goes to a very versatile young man. The winner of the ‘Fourth Generation It Boy – In Everything Except Braincells’ Daesang, goes too, you guessed it, Choi Yeonjun!”

The rest erupted in laughter as an exasperated Yeonjun made his way to where you stood, empty wrappers crackling under his feet. He threw a glare at the boys before he bowed before you in the most formal way possible, and you handed him the pretty mediocre, handmade certificate, before enamored laughter spilled from his lips.

Soobin received an award for being the ‘Best Leader of the Greatest Global Shookies’, to which he sighed. Taehyun received the Grand Award ‘The Best Son, Our King, Vocalist Kang’, which the rest labelled unfair and favoritism. Kai received the ‘Gotta Hit That High Note Like-’ award, which he proudly accepted with absolutely no complaints, beaming at the poorly made certificate.

“And last, but not least,” you started, peaking at Beomgyu from the corner of you eyes, determination almost faltering at the sight of his anticipating countenance. Peering down at the clipboard in your hands, you frowned, “well, I guess that’s all we have for tonight, folks-”

The sound of their hearty laughter filled the dorm once again, Yeonjun nearly toppling over the armrest of the sofa. Beomgyu nodded, tongue in cheek, clearly bothered by the whole ordeal. You joined in on the laughter, before glancing back to the clipboard, your heart rate picking up a little.

“Oh, what’s this?” you feigned surprise, “We have two more awards left! To Choi Beomgyu,” you said, pausing to steady your breath, refusing to make eye contact with him, “goes the award for ‘The Most Annoying Amateur Gamer-” laughter once more, Beomgyu joining in this time, “Best Friend and Utterly Talented All-rounder’. And lastly, to Tomorrow X Together for ‘Best Group of All Time’!” you cheered, relieved that they all got up and cheered as well, without teasing you.

Beomgyu took your hand and slipped the certificate from the board. You may have been embarrassed at the self-proclaimed ‘lousy’ attempt at decorating his certificate, but within seconds, that sheet of colored board became the most important thing to him in the world - his most prized possession. He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and the rest all joined in without a second to spare, endlessly praising you and expressing their affection as you giggled in response.

Later on that evening, after you left and the others were fast asleep, he laid on his bed, limbs splayed across the comforter. He sighed dreamily up at the ceiling, bringing his hands up to cover the bashful grin playing on his lips. He turned his head ever-so slightly, and peeked through the spaces between his fingers at the certificate perched on his night-stand and sighed again.

What was he going to do with you.

13 March 2020, 20:00

You pushed aside everything that had been happening in your life to be happy on your best friend’s birthday. You were convinced it was the least you could do in return for everything he did for you. Deciding to host something small at the PC Room, the owner was pretty enthusiastic to make a contribution to the happiness of his ‘favourite patrons’, you invited his members and some of his closest friends.

Although Beomgyu would have loved to spend the day with just you, he was extremely grateful to know efforts you had made to make him enjoy his day. You had been chattering away with the owner at the front desk, but somewhere amidst conversation with Taehyun, he had lost sight of you. He frowned, apologizing to Taehyun before excusing himself.

Ready to grab his coat and leave, he stopped in his tracks when the lights were shut off. Slowly, the room was illuminated once more, by the flickering flames atop birthday candles, and the enormous smile across your face as you sang, “happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,...”

The cake, in the shape of a bear and embellished with chocolate decorations of every variety, was placed on the table in front of where the rest had seated him. Eyes not once leaving you, absolutely entranced by your beauty, Beomgyu gulps, his heart racing a million miles an hour.

“Make a wish, before the wax gets onto the cake, Dummy.”

He pulls his lip between his teeth and flicks the top of your head gently, chuckling softly, before clasping his hands together and closing his eyes. For a reason unknown to him, Beomgyu couldn’t think of something to wish for. No, rather, he knew exactly why he had no idea what to wish for. He opened his eyes once more, and grinned at your anticipating face, the pining in his chest only running deeper and deeper.

He blew out the candles.

“What did you wish for-”

Beomgyu grabbed your hand and pulled you with him as he ran out onto the wet Itaewon streets. You didn’t run too far, before he pulled you into one of the alleyways. Completely lost for words and a little out of breath, you stood there, staring at him. The same puzzled look you had given him when you first met is etched into your face and his lips curl upward. Your breathing hitches as he takes a step closer to you and he pushes the rain-soaked hair from your face, eyes flitting to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

He pulled your chest flush against his and it was quiet for a moment. Quiet, save for the sound of the rain pitter-pattering across the rooftops and the alley floor; quiet, save for the sound of your thumping hearts.

“I love you.”

He feels you tense up, so he tightens his embrace. There is a silence again, and it is a lot less pleasant than the first. The sound of your sniffling alarms him, so he brings your face to meet his, his heart aching at the tears dripping down your face. You start making attempts to break free of his hold, shaking your head and him, whimpers escaping your lips every time you tried to speak.

Tears now streamed down his face too, a piece of him torn away each time you pushed him away. Beomgyu fought desperately to keep you in his arms, but before he knew it, you had slipped right through his fingers.

“I’m sorry.” was the last thing he heard you say through persisting sobs, before you disappeared down the street, without a trace.

30 June 2020

Beomgyu smiled before the cameras and press, laughing along with interviewers and staff members like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

You had been missing for over three months. You blocked his number. You didn’t log onto the game, someone else had long taken your position on the leader board. After composing himself that day, he had bolted after you, but it was as if you had vanished off the face of the earth. Beomgyu stopped by the PC Room as much as he could in the following days, his condition only worsening each time he did, but due to the growing numbers of positive cases and the increasing amount of work scheduled for him, the time he spent there was limited.

When he did go, he sat in your chair, staring at the front door until he had to leave. The owner, who had been watching him in sympathy, called him up to the desk one day before he left – the last day the owner saw him. He looked sleep-deprived and downcast, the same pained expression drawn into his features every time he left.

“She... came here a lot. I think her first visit was around the time she was in middle school. She never spoke much, and never seemed to have any friends,” The owner told him, looking out to the isles of computers in front of him, before turning back to Beomgyu. “The first time I saw her talk- no, the first time I saw her smile, was with you. She liked you...alot.”

Beomgyu sighed, with a short, hollow chuckle.

“I know.”

12 March 2021, 23:55

The room was empty and dark when Beomgyu finally walked in, eyebrows knitted together as he tried to see through the darkness. He tried calling out for Hyunjin and Jeongin, but the only replies he received was the wind rattling the window-blinds.  

The flickering of candles illuminate the room, just like they did many months ago, and Beomgyu’s heart stopped. He tried to not look disappointed when it turned out to be his members with Hyunjin and Jeongin carrying the cake, singing happy birthday to him with the most excited expressions on their faces, but his throbbing chest betrayed him.

They brought the cake up until where he stood and Yeonjun arched a brow, a knowing smirk rolling onto his lips. “You really do have a wild imagination, don’t you? Ow!” he cried, when Beomgyu hit his arm. “Ugh, just make a wish already.”

Beomgyu clasped his hands tightly before him and squeezed his eyes shut, just as he did before. Only this time, he knew exactly what he wanted. The subject of his pining, worry, and love. Her. He would give anything to see her, just one last time.

And when he opened his eyes, that was exactly what he found in front of him.

“Happy Birthday, Choi Beomgyu.”

The lights went back on, and Beomgyu blinked repeatedly, making sure that it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks on him. But there you were, with tears brimming your eyes, in all your glory, the love of his life. 

He takes in all the little changes, like your trimmed hair, and that fact that you seemed to have lost weight – which made him frown. And then there was that smile, that dazzling smile, which only seemed to shine brighter now than it did before.

Your hands tremor a bit, the way he just stares at you making your heart leap. “I-I’m sor-”

The cake hit the floor with a plop, eliciting laughter from the others as he wraps his arms around your figure and he reels you into his arms in one swift movement. You feel his tears soak into your blouse, and you hold onto him tighter, your eyes already wet from your own tears. You were finally with him – you were finally home.

The owner gathered everyone together for a photo towards the end of the celebration, Beomgyu following suit wherever you went, refusing to let go of your hand for even a second. You offered him a loving smile when Hyunjin teased him for it, and placed a soft kiss to the back of his hand.

Beomgyu lead you up to the rooftop to see the sunrise, momentarily letting go of your hand to flush your back against his chest, before grabbing hold of it, and the other hand, again. The bright orange and yellow rays peeked from behind the mountain in the distance, and you had never felt more at peace.

You recalled the way your chest tightened and the way tears burned at the corners of your eyes upon receiving his confession a year ago. You had been so happy. So, so happy. But you knew you could not accept him. At the time, you knew that you were in no place to be with someone like him. He was, and is, too wonderful for someone as messed up as you are. You didn’t want burden him with your issues, not when his career had just taken off.

“Beomgyu?” he hummed from where his head against yours, “I love you.”

You stepped away from his embrace, giggling when you noticed the way he pouted. Your turned to face him properly, before attaching your arms around his waist. “Back then... I was in a really bad space. It’s not excuse, and I certainly shouldn’t have run away from you. I...have gotten help ever since, and I want to tell you my story. Would you like to hear it?”

He leaned back and thought for a moment. He then cupped the side of your face with his hand and ran his thumb across your cheek, before pulling you in to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Whatever you’re willing to share, I will listen to and accept with open arms. I love you for who you are; and that includes everything that has shaped, and will shape you into the amazing person I already know you are.”

“That includes the way you absolutely kick my ass at gaming.”

[iwritefandomimagines]

ELEVENTH DOCTOR x READER: “Things change.”

prompt #17 -- requested

masterlist

pairing: eleventh doctor x reader

description: when the doctor gets his timings wrong again, he finds a heartbroken you in your living room, years after he last left you at home. 

warnings: mega angsty. oops !

words: 1,600

Initially, you believed that whenever you next heard the sound of the TARDIS landing, you’d be ecstatic.

You’d expected to go running into the Doctor’s arms, swept away on some adventure or another that you’d remember forever. You pictured yourself content and excited and happy.

But that was then, and time had passed.

The last time the Doctor had dropped you off had been three years ago now. The man you loved had dropped you off to take Amy and Rory away somewhere ‘just for them’ for a day... But three years had gone by with no sign of them returning.

You’d spent at least the first six months locked away in your room, wallowing and crying in fear that he didn’t want to see you again.

But now that so much time had passed, you’d become too furious with the Doctor to want to see him again either. How could he just leave you here, forgetting about you entirely?

He’d told you he loved you -- had that truly meant nothing?

You were currently curled up on your sofa, a pot of ice cream in your hands and surrounded by a bundle of blankets. Your hair was unkempt, your loungewear the same you’d been wearing for a good few days now. Truth be told, you were in a mess.

Despite your infuriation, you’d never quite managed to fall out of love with the Doctor. That madman in the police box who’d whisked you away to places you’d never even imagined. He’d been your world, your safe place, and yet he’d been your breaking point too that moment he left you.

Right now you were reeling from yet another unsuccessful attempt at moving on. Another unsuccessful blind date, another failure to feel anything but apathy for any man who wasn’t the Doctor. Your Doctor. Why couldn’t you just move on?

And so when the TARDIS engine sounded, materialising right in front of you in your very living room, the fury coursing through your every vein was almost unbearable. Tugging your blankets tighter around your frame, you pretended to be unaware of the giant blue box blocking your view of another romantic comedy that only fuelled your sadness.

“Y/N!”

The sound of his voice sent chills rippling through your body, but you didn’t dare look up. It would be real then, you’d have to face the fact that he’d left you but all of a sudden was back.

“Oh Y/N! What’s the matter sweetheart?” he ambled towards you, pushing the blanket fortress you’d assembled out of his way. His head cocked to the side confusedly -- you’d changed. A lot. Had he gotten his timing wrong again?

The word sweetheart made butterflies flit in your stomach, but it was bittersweet to hear it again from his lips, and so all you could bring yourself to do was scoff.

His fingers reached up for a strand of your hair -- you’d dyed it in a feeble attempt to stop recognising yourself the way you did when you were with him -- twirling it around his finger as he tried desperately to make you meet his gaze.

“How long has it been?” his voice was barely above a whisper as he knew your answer couldn’t be good.

“Three years.”

Your words dripped with venom, your eyes harsh and your face set in a scowl as you finally made eye contact with him.

The Doctor felt his world shatter around him at that, the very fact that he’d let you down -- the most important person in his life and he’d let you down.

“Oh darling I’m so sorry,” he cooed, cupping your face in his palms and lowering his head to be closer to yours, “I promise that wasn’t ever my intention. It’s been a day... well, a week... but it was only because things got a bit hectic. I came straight back as soon as I could. You didn’t think I’d abandon you?”

You drew in a sharp breath, struggling to fathom the words to tell him just how you felt. Honestly, a small part of you was still ridiculously happy to see him again, especially knowing he’d never intended to leave you for so long. But he had, he had been gone so long, and you weren’t sure you could forgive that.

“Three years,” you repeated, as though trying to come to terms with it all over again yourself, “Three years without you, Doctor.”

He pulled you to his chest, almost knocking your ice cream from your hands as he did so with such urgency. He kissed the top of your head, your stomach doing flips as you felt so close to him again. But you were still fuming, and you couldn’t let it go.

“I’d never have left you alone for so long, Y/N. You know I’d never do that, surely.” he frowned.

“I thought I did,” you mumbled, before clearing your throat to speak more confidently. “I thought I knew. But it’s been three years, Doctor. Things change. I’ve changed. I’m not the naive girl you left in this room, struggling while you fawned over Rory and Amy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Even after you told me you loved me, Rory and Amy always seemed to come first. I feared being second -- well third -- best and then you unintentionally made that clear anyway.”

“Y/N, I love you, you know that,” he soothed, hands caressing your hair as he held you close, “I’ve thought about you every minute I’ve been gone.”

You shook your head, “That’s the problem, Doctor. So have I.”

There was silence for a moment, both of you too consumed with sadness to say anything. He couldn’t stand the notion of quite how badly he’d hurt you, and you couldn’t stand that though you were still angry and upset, you were relieved to be in his arms again, held by the man you adored.

“I-- three years,” he uttered, more to himself, still shocked, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know I’ll never be able to make up that time, but I want to try. I’ll never leave you behind again, darling. I can’t live without you.”

“I’ve had to learn to live without you, Doctor. I spent so long believing that it had been an accident but even now that I know that’s true it hurts. I love you, I’ll never be able to stop loving you, but I’m just-- this is so difficult.” you fought back tears.

The Doctor pressed a soft kiss to your temple, “I’ll never let anything like this happen again, Y/N. I promise. I’ll never let you out of my sight I’l--” 

You shook your head, pulling back a little to stare deeply into his eyes, mesmerised as always by their emerald twinkle, “I’ve tried so hard to forget you Doctor. And I never could. But I-- It’s made me realise that people spend their entire lives at your side and it’ll always mean more to us than it does to you.”

“That’s not true, Y/N. Not one person who I have travelled with has ever been unimportant to me, I’ve cared about every single one of them, always.” his voice was stern now, and you could tell you had hit a nerve, “And it’s different with you, Y/N. Everything is different with you. In hundreds of years I’ve never cared about anyone like I care about you. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.”

You gulped, “But that’s the point -- you’ve had hundreds of years to try, to explore and to find someone. I only get one short silly little human lifetime, Doctor. It terrifies me that I know I’ll never love anyone like I love you, you’re the love of my life. But I’ll be like a... like a blip in your timeline when I’m gone.”

“Never,” He clutched your balled fists, pulling them to his lips and kissing the backs of them gently, “Everyone has a lasting impression on me, everyone matters. But you... Y/N, you’re absolutely everything to me. You say I’m the love of your life like that doesn’t matter to me. You’re the love of my life, darling. Surely you understand that.”

His words weighed heavy on your shoulders as you tried to digest them, even heavier as you tried to understand them.

“The love of your life?”

“Of course. The love of my life.”

“Oh.”

He laughed, capturing your face in his palms and pulling you towards him to kiss you. His lips were soft and warm, just as you remembered them, and you couldn’t help but melt immediately into the kiss as you felt all of your anger dissipate.

That was the thing, no matter how much he’d unintentionally hurt you, everything felt okay with the Doctor. No matter what, the Doctor’s very presence had always been enough for you. You were just grateful to have him back.

“I love you, Doctor. Please don’t leave me behind again.” your voice cracked.

“Never, Y/N,” he kissed the corner of your lips again gently, “I love you too, more than you’ll ever know.”

You suddenly felt conscious of your current outfit, your loungewear and messy hair glaringly embarrassing to you despite the fact that the Doctor wasn’t remotely phased by it.

“I-- uh,” you began nervously, “I would say where shall we go but, well I look like this...” the Doctor furrowed his brows as you blushed, before rolling his eyes as you continued, “But I just want to spend time with you anyway. Movie night? Like old times?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. Absolutely.”

-------

eeee i hope you enjoyed this! sorry if it wasn’t amazing, i lost track partway through and tried my hardest to finish it... let me know what you thought. now that i’m back, requests are back open and my (updated) prompt list is here if you’d like ideas. also, my masterlist is here if you’d like to take a look!

thanks for reading <3

[someonewhowannadielol]

What is Love?

Requested by @sassysaxsolo​

Pairing: BadBoy!JK x Innocent!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warning: Dirty talk, degrading, oral sex (m and f receiving), pussy slapping, exhibitionism (??). Oh god this has like 4 smut scenes in it, it's nothing but porn bye

Summary: Jungkook has a degrading kink. Y/N doesn’t seem to like it. Also, JK is bad at this entire love thing but totally whipped for the girl of his dreams.

WordCount: 3.6k

A/N: The first scene is inspired by Hunter and Amy from “Hot Summer Night,” because it’s such a cute couple! P.S this might not be my best work because I wrote it at 3AM, so :( sry

You wouldn’t exactly call your boyfriend mean by any chances, but it doesn’t mean he was the nicest person you’ve ever met either. Sometimes you look at other people, like Hoseok, or Jimin, they could most definitely keep you happy – and speak to you like you’re an actual human when you both fuck.

You still remember the first time Jeon Jungkook had ever well, noticed you.

“-and then they both crashed into each other!” your friend was telling this story for the nth time, and you paying your 101% undivided attention to your fries sitting in front of you, basically drowning in ketchup, while trying to ignore the eyes that bore in the back of your head.

It was the last day of your exams as a sophomore in high school, and just like everyone else in town, you’d gone to the diner you always went to, at the end of 15thStreet Avn. Everyone and their mom had decided to come, so it was really busy, you literally had to speak loud to your friends, sitting just across you.

Fifteen minutes ago, Jeon Jungkook had walked into a diner and chose the place that gave the perfect view of you from the back.

Seven minutes ago, your friends had noticed that he was – shamelessly – staring at you, strawberry milkshake in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. When you tried to look back, his eyes didn’t even flinch when they made contact with yours. On top of it, he winked at you. It was weirdly strange, yet made you feel all giddy inside.

What. The. Fuck. It was a well-known fact that girls would actually die to have one date with Jungkook, willing to get plastic surgeries, buying the most expensive clothes, and even leaving gifts in his locker at school. So why was here he here, in this lame-ass diner? And that too, wasting time while staring at you? He clearly didn’t even take a sip of his beverage.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N, he’s so totally staring at you,” your best friend from across the booth said, while pretending to look at her nails.

“He’s so hot, I would totally take a bite,” your other friend says while taking a bite of her burger.

“Yuck!” you exclaim, as you can’t help but laugh at the thought of it. You had a certain laugh, especially when you were sitting around with your friends – it wasn’t that loud, but your eyes would bunch up as you would unconsciously bring your hand up to your mouth, and would throw your head back.

You dare to look back at him again, but this time you see his coming towards you, while taking a puff from his half smoked cigarette. You immediately turn your head back, so quick that you feared you’d broken your neck.

You look at your friends adjust their hair and posture when they see him coming towards your booth, and you can’t help but play with the hem of your sleeve, biting your lip. He stands across you, leaning on the booth in front of yours, swirling his straw so the whipped cream becomes one with the milkshake.

As soon as he makes eye contact with you, you just freak out and amidst that panic, you blurt out, “I have a boyfriend.”

He looks back at you and smirks, oh God, he looks so, so amazing. This year, he’s grown out his hair, so the waves were sprawled against his forehead, and he pushed it back with his hand after placing the milkshake next to you. He’s the pitch perfect image of a fuckboy; leather jacket, a motorbike, tattoos (even though he’s totally not 18 years old yet), and the lingering scent of cigarettes.

“Nah, no, you don’t,” he takes another puff of his cigarette, “but if you don’t stop being so fucking cute, you will,”

You chuckle, thinking he’s pranking you, thinking it’s just a joke him and his stupid friends had planned out to humiliate you publicly, “You don’t know the first thing about me,” you say as you dip a fry in ketchup.

“I know you like ketchup,” he says, before taking a sip from his milkshake.

That was also the day when Jeon Jungkook had officially asked you out.

-

When you’d spent the entire summer with him, you got to realize one thing about him, he loved to degrade you while having sex. Sure, it was fun the first few times – but after that, words like “slut,” and “whore,” had started making you feel like one.

It was obvious that to you that you weren’t his first priority; football and his friends were always going to be before you. You still remember he was less than enthusiastic when you told him about the art gallery you’d host after working on your still life pieces for two years.

But in reality, everyone on the team knew he was head over heels for Y/N, he had quitted smoking right after he heard you cough, he’s started wearing a helmet whenever he rode his bike, and even let you decorate it with your frilly stickers. He would always, always go out of his way to get a fresh pack of chocolate milk for you, because you once mentioned that your dad doesn’t let you drink it because it’s unhealthy.

“Here, babe,” he says tossing you your daily supply of chocolate milk.

“Hey, remember when I told you about the art gallery I was preparing for?” you said, but it seemed like he was more interesting in scrolling Instagram on his iPhone, “um, because I have to go to art school,”

“Yeah, what about it?” he said, pecking your cheek as he got up for class.

“Well, it’s on the 28thof October, that’s next week,” you say before taking a sip of the milk he got you.

He waited a minute before speaking anything, and you wished, you wished deep in your heart so sincerely that he wouldn’t come up with an excuse.

“You know Jake’s birthday is that day, right? Can’t you reschedule it?” he said, looking down, adjusting his leather jacket.

You felt as if someone was stomping on your chest, it was getting harder to swallow the milk in your mouth, and it didn’t taste like the too sugary drink it was – instead it felt like you were swallowing poison. He surely remembered your rants about how it was so hard to rent a place in that gallery right? Or how it took you three months to manage to snag it for a couple of hours? Or how it took you two years to compile your best art pieces?

“B-but I don’t think I can do that, I barely got to rent the place an-and I- “

“Babe, I don’t think I can make it. The boys and I are going out to the city,” he said, tilting his head.

He didn’t wait for your reply, already walking down the hallway, leaving you heartbroken.

On 28thOctober, you met all the professional people you had dreamed of meeting, it was an honor, especially since you were just a Junior in high school. But, you never saw the face you wanted to see. You couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest when the exhibition finally finished, and you had to close the gallery.

That night, around 1AM, Jungkook broke into your room through your window how he usually did, only this time he had a bouquet of roses in his right hand, and red eyes.  When he noticed your tear stricken eyes and smudged mascara, he didn’t think twice before throwing the flowers on your bed and hugging you hard. Then, when he was so close, you noticed that he reeked of alcohol and weed. But it was fine.

He spent the night trying to make you laugh by reciting jokes he was forced to listen from Seokjin, and trying to make up for not being there. He cuddled you, putting your head under his chin, your body resting on his chest. It felt like home, when you would be with him, alone.

“How did it go?” he asks, nuzzling his face in your neck, peppering kisses there.

“It went amazing, I got a lot of good critique from artists and college professors,” you say, running your hands through his hair, you still missed his long hair that he cut last week, but it was way softer now,

“I missed you,” you say as he hummed.

He loved how you were like an open book, not like the girls he had been with before. You wore dresses – which he loved, because easier access – and you had long, virgin hair. He loved how untouched you were, innocent, pure and uncorrupted. He loved the little chub on your cheeks, he loved your pillow soft breasts, he loved how you always tasted like strawberries because of your chap stick. He loved virtuous you were. His to taint.

“I’m here, baby, and to make up for it, we’ll go to that café you always wanted to go to, my treat for being the best girlfriend,” he mumbled in your ear before taking off your dress and peppering kisses all over your body.

Of course, your mood had evidently changed, “Okay, you goofball,” you laugh as he tickles you.

“Baby, even if everything is wrong, it’s always going to be alright, and you know why?” he says as he kisses you on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, a huge contrast from his usual drunk kisses, they seem to be more chaste, more genuine, “you’re the only good thing in my life,”

You forgive him, like every other time.

You also toss him out the window before 6AM, before your father catches you with a boy. And that too, Jeon Jungkook. He’d probably kill you. It reminded you of the time when Jungkook decided to eat you out, on a weekday, on your bed, with your room unlocked.

It was no surprise when you found out that he was especially skilled with his tongue, not that any boy had ever even touched you there. You fought your moans, because your dad was literally downstairs watching his daily 9pm news. You knew he’d check up on you at 9.30 PM to ensure that you were studying for the SAT.

But here you were, your face stuffed with your own panties as the taste of your cum took over your tongue, it was a little embarrassing for you to taste yourself, but you paid more attention to the brown haired man between your legs. He’d mutter the same obscene words that used to give you the pleasure you needed at first, but soon became insecure of.

“You like that, dirty slut?” you mewled as he worked his tongue on your clit, adding another finger to the previous one inside of you. His two fingers did more than what you could do with your entire hand, the long slender fingers were now knuckle deep inside of you, doing wonders to your body.

“You’re such a whore, moaning here like a bitch in heat, when everyone thinking you’re an angel, huh,” he says as his fingers thrust in and out of you, lewd noises filling your small room.

You felt your blood run cold, when you could hear your dad’s footsteps on the stairs. Fuck.

“Three. You have three seconds to cum, or forget about it,” he said looking your straight in the eye, his fingers working faster than ever.

You could feel yourself pent up, your walls clenching down on his fingers.

“Two,” he said, attacking your bud with his tongue, a circling pattern, making you shake.

Before he could say ‘one,’ you were cumming, all over his fingers, your thighs and your sheets.

Jungkook chuckled, “Fucking whore,” before jumping out of your window in time, just a second before your dad came in your room. You were under the blanket, your panties under the bed, and your pride out of the window.

As you excused your flush face as a small fever, you couldn’t help but feel a weird twist in your stomach. You didn’t exactly like the way you felt.

You had avoided Jungkook as much as you could the next week, but he didn’t exactly notice because recently the football team had been putting in more hours to prepare for the nationals. He’d still slipped loving notes in your locker, and strapped a red rose on Thursday as well, that made your heart flutter.

The next time you met him was on the bus, on your way home.  

He could’ve rode his bike to his home, but he wasn’t born yesterday, he knew something was up with you when you didn’t respond to any of his messages, and didn’t even acknowledge him in your English class.

The was bus was packed, to say the least, as he followed you as you went to the tail of the vehicle, excusing people. The next stop had more people stepping in here, and he was even more pressed towards you.

You instantly regretted wearing the tennis skirt you wore yesterday, because it was short short, and also thin. You no longer had an excuse to avoid your boyfriend as you felt him press up against your back, you could feel his bulge on your butt.

You tried to look back up at him, but whimpered when you saw the animalistic look in his eyes, and the way he towered over you wasn’t helping either. You sucked in a breath when you felt his finger hitch up, and up, and up, until it was so, so near your panties as he circled your inner thigh with his thumb. He could notice how you were hyper-aware of the surroundings, as if people could see everything that was happening, everyone could see how your boyfriend was basically fingering you on the bus.

“Do you wanna do this?” you heard Jungkook whisper in your ear, and truth be told, you had missed him, the feeling of his dick, his fingers, that you needed him, and you needed him now.

You nodded, and just as soon, you heard him chuckle, “You really are a dirty slut huh?” he said as he slapped between your thighs, making your knees buckle.

With one hand, he held the handle above so he would stay balanced, but with the other one, he steadied your hips, grinding his hips against you. You almost felt embarrassed by how aroused you were, and how quick you were wet. Seconds later, you could feel his fingers separate your folds, “Spread your legs, whore.”

As you spread them, you finally noticed how many people were actually here, and how to the untrained eye it just looked like he was hugging you, but his fingers were now scissoring inside you, stretching you.

You could feel him taking his cock out of his sweatpants, brush it in your folds. You were always so sensitive, the smallest of touches against your clit would make you cry out and moan, so it was no surprise that you let out some noises as his cock entered in you.

“Make one more noise, and I won’t be scared to fuck you senseless in front of all these people,” he whispered in your ear again, this time rocking his hips into you.

“Such a slut, huh? Tell me you’re a slut,” he said, and when he noticed that you didn’t do as he said, he completely stopped all movements. You couldn’t thin straight with his dick sitting inside of you, you needed to get off, and this neediness of yours made you want to crawl into a grave and die.

“I- I’m a slut,” you whispered, and Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to heard that, if he wasn’t basically glued to you.

“S-say it again,” he stuttered and you could feel the both of you coming closer.

“I’m a slut! I’m a whore for you, Jungkook,” you whispered, as you felt yourself cum. As for him, instead of cumming in you, like you thought he would, he took himself out, and jerked off in your panties. The feeling of his cum against your soaked panties was lecherous to say the least, you could feel your panties stick to your clit, almost as a reminder of the disgusting deed you’d just done.

“Keep those on until you get home, such a fucking bitch, fucking her boyfriend in a bus,” Jungkook whispered in your ear, and stepped off the bus after slapping your ass.

And you were left alone again, thinking if you really were the slut he made you out to be.

Your next interaction with Jungkook had been next week, when you both had decided to do the English homework together, at his house. While you spent at least two hours, researching on the topic, Jungkook had simply bullshitted the entire essay in half an hour. Sigh, this is why he was failing. As you were left on his bed, completing the essay, he sat on the other end, gaming with Taehyung and some random boy through his PlayStation party.

Finally, another two hours later, you were done with the horrid essay and were desperately craving your loving and adoring boyfriend’s attention.

“Jungkook,” you tried to get his attention, but didn’t even turn around to look at you. You continued to annoy him, “Kookieee,”

Suddenly, you saw a blast on the screen, as Jungkook slammed his controller on the floor.

He muted his mic before speaking, “You just don’t wanna be a good girl for me today, huh?” At this point, you straddled his lap. He picked you up without a glimpse of hesitation, settling you between his legs, as he took out his cock.

“Suck me, and be quiet about it, unless you want Tae to hear what a desperate bitch you are,” he says, and you’re left to suck him. Jungkook definitely wasn’t small, not even close. In fact, when hard, he was bigger than you had expected dicks to be. So, 4 rounds of battle later, your jaw had started to ache, and you couldn’t help but cry out an elicit moan, forgetting Tae could hear everything.

Jungkook turns off his gaming station as soon as he hears you, “I think I told you to shut the fuck up, but you’re just too fucking stupid to understand,” he says as he harshly picks you up by your ponytail.

“I’m gonna fuck you, gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be nothing but a dumb bitch hungry for cock,” he says as he thrashes you on the bed, stretching you out with his fingers.

Before adjusting his dick, and putting it in front of your entrance, he slaps your cunt, “that’s for fucking my game night, you bitch,” and he enters you, rough and fast.

He pushed his hair back, it’s been growing again, as he looks at you with his doe eyes again, this time they’re a shade darker. This turns you on, as you let out a whimper, “Jungkook c-close,”

“Cream yourself on my dick, go on, my dumb baby,” he chuckles, before increasing his speed, the sound of skin slapping filling the silence of the room, “Such a desperate cock slut, you can’t get off with me, huh?”

Moments later, when you both cum simultaneously, he lays down next to you and stares at the ceiling.

“What are you thinking of?” he asks, minutes after your silence. This time, he’s not harsh, but instead you’re surprised by his loving tone.

“Just thinking if you love me or not,” you mumble, closing your eyes, missing the surprised look on his face, eyes wide open, jaw ajar.

“Wha- Baby, of course I love you,” he stutters on his words, not knowing what to say. What had made you believe that he wasn’t head over heels in love with you?

“I just… I don’t know, I don’t like it when you call me names,” you explain already feeling embarrassed at being such a prude.

“Baby girl,” he sits up, and kisses your cheek, “you should’ve told me, I- I’m sorry,”

Jungkook looked like a hurt puppy, his eyes downcast, as he fiddled with his fingers. The next week, he had spent making sure you felt like the Princess you were, his Princess. Obviously, you had noticed his behavior, bringing a donut along with the chocolate milk, ditching football practice to meet you, kissing your hands every time he met you, peppering you with kisses.

“Kook, you don’t have to do this,” you exclaimed when he took you to see the beach, two hours away from the town.

“I just my Baby to know that I love her, and I want her to be happy,” he says, and for the first time, you feel like you’re free. You’re free when you’re with him and you love it.

You’re always happy with him. You loved his sloppy kisses, his shit eating grin when his fingers made you cum, his habit of bringing you chocolate milk every day, his scent which was a mixture of cologne and cigarettes, his hoarse voice after he wakes up. You knew no matter how much he accidentally hurt you, he loved you too.

CLICK HERE FOR MASTERLIST

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Love On-Set (Pt. 06 of 10)

Pairing: Dacre Montgomery X Reader

Summary: You knew acting on Stranger Things season 3 would be a challenge, and you also knew, from the start, you'd have to work closely with Dacre Montgomery. But is wasn't a big deal for you, since this is your job and you're determined to act professionally. You had it all figured out, or so you thought, until the moment you were out face to face with Dacre. Then, this job became a lot harder than it was supposed to be, since you can't seem to focus whenever you're around Dacre. And you'll have to be around him a lot until the end of production.

Word count: 3 K

<- Previous part (05)

Next part (07) ->

{Dacre Montgomery Masterlist}

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

Los Angeles

The fresh wind messes with your hair as you squint your eyes at the rising sun. You always loved the beach, but this one is your favorite. The way the light blue color of the ocean mixes with the sky is breathtaking, and you know you could spend all of your days here, just looking at the horizon, not a single worry on your mind. It's peaceful, like paradise. The sand is soft under your bare feet, and there's nobody here yet. It's too early, and the only reason why you're here is because you missed this feeling.

It doesn't matter where you go, you'll always want to return here, even is it's just for a visit. The only sound you hear is from the crashing waves, slow and calming, like music. You can't help but smile, eyes closed to better feel the warmth of the sunlight in your skin.

The unmistakable click of a camera gets your attention, forcing you to open your eyes again. Furrowing your eyebrows, you wonder if someone recognized you. It happened only once, even before the shooting for the season three started when a girl spotted you as the girl who Billy almost ran over. But that was it.

Turning around to check the source of the sound, your heart stops for a moment when you see Dacre, still putting his phone down.

“Sorry, but you were looking so good.” He says, making his way over you.

He's the one looking good. The white pants and pale blue shirt mix perfectly with the atmosphere, light, and relaxing. And all the rest too. His face, his smile, the way he walks. You're quick to notice the first three buttons of his shirt are opened and you wonder if he's getting this idea from Billy. “Me? Please, look at you. You're... Gorgeous.”

“Yeah.” She simply says, finally reaching you. “I'm glad you're still here. I was scared you'd be gone.”

Dacre lives forty-five minutes away from you. It's not that close, but close enough, you think. Maybe it's fate, or so says Millie. Like a sign. “I can't believe you came all the way here.” An hour ago, before you came to the beach, you answered his text to let him know where you would be since you wouldn't bring your phone.

“Better start trying, because here I am.”

Biting your lip to hold back a smile, you turn at the ocean again. “Well, this is one of my favorite places on Earth.”

“I noticed.”

“Really? How?” Crossing your arms, you look at him. Dacre's eyes are as blue as the ocean. But they're much more beautiful.

“The shine in your eyes.” He answers, shrugging his shoulders. “It's pretty obvious if you pay attention.”

“You say these things and I don't even know what to think.” Unlike you, Dacre doesn't try to hide his feelings or thoughts. He's honest, every time.

“Just tell me how you feel about this place.” He lightly touches your arm, and you set in a slow walk.

“Uhm...” You mutter, feeling as his hand slides down your arm until it reaches yours. His fingers linger for a while, and you feel the usual sensation Dacre brings you. Butterflies, moving all over your skin, tickling. Slowly, very, almost painfully, his fingers brush on yours, and when he's just about to let go, you decide to be brave, intertwining your fingers with his. You wait for him to still want to let to, but he doesn't. His grip only gets tighter. “It's beautiful, obliviously.”

“That's it? Is that everything you have to say about one of your favorite places on Earth?” You stop a few feet away from where the ripples reach. “You know you can tell me how you feel, right? I want to know.”

Taking a deep breath, you turn your body towards Dacre, trying not to look as nervous as you feel right now, holding his hand. “This is nostalgic. It's my second home after that house over there.” You gesture at a small group of houses by a cliff. “Mine is the tiniest one. I grew up here but only moved back a year ago. This beach makes me feel... Free. Like there is not a single worry in the world. It's... Bliss.”

Dacre is already looking down at you when your eyes meets his. The smile on his lips sends shivers down your spine. “I'm happy you shared it with me.”

“It's just... A couple of words.” Blushing, you look down. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“It means a lot.” His free hand comes to your face, fingers softly caressing your cheek and jaw. “To both of us.”

You were just about to say something when the water reaches your feet, and you give a little jump. “Oh my Gosh!” You exclaim, giggling.

“Wanna go for a swim?” He asks.

“I can't.” Shrugging your shoulders, you take a look at the ocean. “I don't know how to.”

“What?”

“It's not a big deal.”

“We were shooting next to a pool and you didn't tell me you can't swim?” He sounds a little offended, but when you look at him again, you can tell he's faking it. “I play the lifeguard, I should know that.”

“Well, you never asked.” Letting go of his hand, you start walking backward, away from the water.

“No, no.” He's quick to grab your arm, smirking. “We will go for a dive. C'mon.”

“No way!” You start pulling back, and a small fight starts. “You have your phone with you, remember? You'll ruin it.”

“Let me just–.” Dacre searches on his pocket, easily finding his phone and throwing it on the sand, away from the water. “Problem solved.”

“Dacre...”

“I won't let you drown. Trust me.” His voice invites you in, and you know you can't fight it. And you do trust him.

Sighing, you surrender, allowing him to pull you into the water. Your eyes are focused on his, and it's impossible to keep the usual distance. When your feet stop touching the bottom, you have no choice but to cling onto him, arms around his neck. Dacre holds you tight, arms encircling your waist, and you feel secure in his embrace. Fortunately, the water is calm, and the waves are small. It'll change in a few hours though, but for now, they won't be a problem.

There's nothing else to do now. Your foreheads are almost touching, and there's no space between your bodies. You've never been this close to him, not even on scene. You wonder if he can listen to your heart, beating insanely fast.

“Hold your breath.” He says and you nod, taking the deepest breath you can.

Dacre pulls you down with him, and you close your eyes shut. It only takes a few seconds before you break to the surface again, releasing the air from your lungs and lips breaking into a smile.

“You ok?”

“Yeah. Why?” You ask, letting go of him just to remove some of the hair that was attached to your face.

“Your cheeks are red.”

“Oh...” There's no way to hide it now, standing face to face with him. “I'm alright. I know you won't let your co-star drown.”

“Never.” He whispers, his voice deep and soft. “Actually, I–” Dacre is cut short by his cellphone ringing. It's a low, calming song you don't know.

“Maybe we should go.”

“I know who it is. This magazine wants an interview and a photoshoot but I told them I'd only accept if you could come with me.”

“What?” You giggle, furrowing your eyebrows. “I'm not as famous as you, they wouldn't want me.”

“The whole interview will be about Billy and Stranger Things. People are already shipping Billy and Amy, it'll only make sense if you're there with me.” As he speaks, Dacre starts making his way back to the beach, only letting go of you when you're out of the water. “And the moment season 3 starts, you won't be left alone by the fans, trust me.”

“Would James allow it? Seeing us together will raise suspicions.”

“Yeah, I texted James about it. He said it's a good idea, to get people hyped for the next season.” Dacre carefully picks up his phone. “What do you say? We could even go out after. Have dinner somewhere nice.”

Does he mean it like a date? It can't be... Right? “Ok, then. When is it?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. I'll pick you up.”

Smiling, you nod, biting your lip.

You would stay the whole day with Dacre, but you had promised your mother you'd spend the day with her. And Dacre understands it. You took him to your house so he could dry himself and have breakfast since he only had a cup of coffee.

When he leaves, your mother makes a lot of questions, and you're happy to answer. She teases you a lot, making silly comments and reminding you how handsome Dacre is throughout the day. You don't need to be reminded though, you know it very well.

When the next day comes, you patiently wait for him after having lunch and taking a fresh shower. You wonder if you'll always feel this nervous about Dacre. Just the thought of seeing him in a couple of minutes sends a shiver down your spine, makes your stomach burn with anticipation. When the doorbell rings, you jump up, taking your bag, and ignoring the stare your mother gives you.

“Bye, mom.” You mutter, heading to the front door. Taking a deep breath, you open it, trying not to smile. And failing. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He says back, and you start making your way to his car. “Excited?”

“Wondering what they'll ask. They always want some spoilers.” You get into the passenger seat, blushing with the fact that Dacre just opened the door for you.

“That they do.”

The ride is filled with chattering. You tell him about your childhood and he does the same. Eventually, you're not sure how exactly, you have your hand on his shoulder as he drives, then on his neck. He touches your leg every once in a while, and you can't help but blush a little.

But soon enough you're at this amazing, luxury hotel. The photoshoot will take place at the pools, which are absolutely incredible. It's huge, and there's an aisle in the middle, with a bridge that leads to it. A stylist comes to take you to the dressing room so you can change. It'll be 80's themed, so your swimsuit is very colorful, blue, green, and pink. The one piece is open on the sides and on the back, and it looks amazing. Your hair is done very quickly, beach waves with some volume. It takes an hour until you're allowed out, and Dacre is ready, talking to a guy. He looks good, his blue and green shirt unbuttoned, leaving his chest exposed.

“Hey,” you mutter when you're close enough. “Looking good.”

“Not as good as you.” He says, winking. “We were waiting for you, the interview happens now, then the photoshoot.”

“Alright.” Dacre guides you to a small scenario, with three chairs and a huge Stranger Things poster behind. The cameras are already positioned, and a woman comes to pin the microphones on your suits.

Once everything is ready, you and Dacre sit down, and a middle-aged woman takes the seat before you, a smile on her lips. The interview goes on very well, with small questions about what the public can expect from the new season, and from the relationship between Billy and Amy. People are really excited about it, you didn't know how much. You make a self note to make some research, to know where exactly the fans stand.

It was great until the video in the gym comes up. “I think it's pretty obvious, but that got people talking.” The woman, Maryan, says. “So I gotta ask. Is there anything happening between you two? Away from the cameras?”

You exchange a glance with Dacre, and you have no idea what to say. You don't want to say no, but you're too scared to say yes...

“Well, if there is you'll find out soon or later so...” Dacre speaks up, and you can tell this is the gentle way of saying this isn't her business.

She seems happy with that, making a quick remark before finishing the interview. Then different people take over. The photographer, a short man with grey hair and a huge camera starts guiding you around the pools. The stylist comes to fix your hair every time you strike a pose. And obviously, it takes little time for you and Dacre to be put close, very close.

You have fun though, laughing at his jokes about how weird things can get on these things. And that he's happy you're here.

“Alright. (Y/N), lie down, please. Dacre, sit down beside her.” Nodding, you follow the instructions. Half your body is in the shadow and the other half under the sunlight as you lie down near the pool. “Dacre, I want you to look down at her, and (Y/N), reach out your hand to touch his face.”

Trying to keep it professional, you do as he says. Dacre's eyes burn right through you, and you would give all the money you have to know what he's thinking. Slowly, you caress his jaw with your thumb, realizing you never touched him like this.

“You ok?” He asks, for the hundredth time. Dacre is always making sure you're comfortable, but the truth is that you're more than comfortable. You're actually starting to crave for this proximity, for his touch.

“Yeah...”

The camera flashes and you smile. “Look over here.” The photographer commands and you follow. “Amazing, amazing.”

The good news is that you're enjoying yourself. The bad news is that they make you get inside the pool, which is too deep. So all the photos have you on Dacre's arms, and honestly, you don't mind one bit.

The night is falling when the photoshoot is over and Dacre takes you to one of his favorites restaurants. It was an area on the back from which you have a view of the city. You both continue talking about childhood memories and stuff like that, and you tell him about your father. How he forced both you and your mother to put the walls high, to keep people away. Dacre is so kind though, reassuring you he wants to get in. That he wants to know how you feel, all the time. You still wonder if he means it though, you can't help it. But by the end of the night, after you both ate the desert and are now just chattering, you feel like he means it.

“Oh, have you read the script they sent us? They changed so many things they had to add another episode.” Dacre says, elbows on the table.

“Of course I didn't.” Shrugging your shoulders, you raise an eyebrow. “We got a five days vacation and that means no work. And since I have you to read it and tell me everything... Why should I?”

“Really? Are you making me do all the hard work in scene?” He makes a pause when the waiter comes with the check.

“James always likes it better when we improvise anyways.”

“I have no idea why.” He says, taking the check.

“Hey, we can–”

“I'm paying and that's not up to discussion.” He cuts you off, giving you a glance as he leaves the money on the table before standing up.

“But–”

“(Y/N), I...” You were just about to head to the exit when he stops, still near the table. “I'm not sure if I made it clear, I should've have... But this was supposed to be a date.”

Blushing, you gasp, looking at him in the eyes. “It kinda felt like a date but I didn't want to assume anything.”

“Well, if you're ok with it, I'd like this to be the first date.” Some people walk by, so you set in motion, walking towards the exit and to the parking lot.

“I'm ok with that.” More than ok, actually. Your stomach feels funny as he opens the passenger door for you, and your skin is on fire.

“Well...” He mumbles as he gets in, starting the car. “It's still a little early but since we have a flight tomorrow morning, we'll both need to get some sleep.”

“Definitely.” You agree. Tomorrow you'll be flying back to the set, straight to the kissing scene. As if he's listening to your thoughts, Dacre gives you a glance. “Excited to go back to work?”

“I am actually.” He nods, eyes on the road.

“Why?” It comes out suddenly because you can't help but wonder if it's for the kiss. If he wants to kiss you as you want to kiss him.

“...I miss the guys, that's all.”

“Oh...” Shifting in your seat, you look away from him, eyes on the road ahead. Your heart sinks a little, and now you're genuinely confused. “Me too.”

“Yeah.” He mumbles, a hand running through his hair.

The rest of the ride to your place is silent, and when you get there, you mutter a goodbye. Once you're inside, away from Dacre, you can't help but feel a little stupid. Maybe you're misreading the signs. He did say today was supposed to be a date, so you don't get why he ignored the kiss. He knows that's the scene you'll be shooting tomorrow night. You'll be thrown back into work straight into the very scene you've been worrying about since the beginning. You were hoping he'd say something, make it easier or... You just don't know anymore. If Dacre wants a date, he should want a kiss too, right? Isn't it how it works?

Not even the fresh shower helps you understand what's going on. With you or with Dacre. Climbing into bed, you feel the wind invading the bedroom, but you're too lost in thoughts to enjoy it. The truth is that you were excited to do it, to shoot that scene and finally kiss him, but now... Now you feel as you did on the first day.

The soft notification sound of your phone gets your attention. Stretching your arm, you take it. It's a voice message from Dacre. Maybe he regrets the whole first date thing and he wants you to know... It'll only make things worse, but you should know it. The sooner the better. You're a professional, and you'll manage to do your job no matter what.

Taking a deep breath, you unlock your phone, pressing play on the message and bringing the phone to your ear.

You can hear his heavy breath before any words come. It takes a couple of seconds until his voice breaks through. “I probably shouldn't say this through a message, but I think I won't be able to sleep if I don't let you know how I feel.” A pause, something falling on the background. “Tomorrow on the scene... It won't be Billy and Amy, it'll be you and me.” This makes you sit up straight, a hand in your heart as it starts beating dangerously fast. “I can't be Billy when I'm with you, when we're so close, it just... I've been breaking character every time and I never struggled so much with a character before.” His voice is heavy with sleep. “I know you've been struggling too and I have no idea why I didn't tell you all this in the car, I just... I really like you and tomorrow I'll kiss you but I didn't want our the first kiss to be like that... So I'm just letting you know when it happens it won't be Billy, it'll be me and... And I hope it'll be you too. Good night, (Y/N).”

His voice is long gone, but you keep still, frozen, eyes on the wall across the room. You can't believe what you just heard.

×

@baker151910 @shinydixon @dreamin-of-dacre @hanoi15 @lickmymelanin @foccus @multific @uncookspaget @kellysimagines @peakascum

[the-other-art-blog]

Little Women (book): Chapter 44 My Lord and My Lady!!!

I mean just the title of the chapter makes me smile. Seriously, why didn’t Greta adapted this chapter??? It’s about money and art. It was perfect for her movie. I’m sorry, I just can’t get over the fact that Timmy had no idea this happened. But anyway, this is about the book. There’s so much to discuss, this will be long.

Come on, Laurie goes to Orchard to get Amy back home because he can’t possibly find something. Sweetheart.

They do a simile with the weather that’s beautiful and it’s basically Laurie saying that Amy keeps him grounded and focus. And Amy replies saying,

‘Lovely weather so far. I don’t know how long it will last, but I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learning how to sail my ship.’

This is a recurrent quote. When I read it the first time, I thought she was talking about her alone. But she’s talking about the marriage. Everything so far has been amazing, love among roses. But she knows there will be difficult times and she’s ready to take them. This is bittersweet because we know Amy will suffer multiple miscarriages before their Bess is born. And even then, she’s going to be a frail child.

I read an article that blamed Amy for discouraging Laurie in his pursuit to become a composer. It couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Since Laurie was in Vienna, he realized he didn’t have what it takes to be a genius, just like Amy. Then he began craving for hard and earnest work. Now, back in Concord Laurie is proud to say he will continue his grandfather business. Amy’s parents are very pleased to hear that. I’m sure everyone was surprised to see the changes in Laurie, from the boy who didn’t even want to go to college to an honest and hard-working man, responsible for his own family.

But Amy also has plans. She’s going to be a lady of society, as any woman who married into a family like the Laurences should have done. But they also plan to be a good influence in that society.

Once their gone, Mr. and Mrs. March talk about them. They both agreed they are happy and that it will last. Marmee is especially proud. She was worried when Amy told her about Fred Vaughn, but now she is relieved that Amy knew best and chose the best man for her. Jo agrees, though she still longs for the same happiness. But it quickly fades because Mr. Bhaer enters the house!!! These two are such dorks.

Going back to Amy and Laurie... it’s just too amazing.

Everyone, except Jo, knows Bhaer is there for Jo. Amy is a bit worried that Laurie may be jealous. It’s not that, just that he would prefer Bhaer to be younger and richer. He just wants a good life for his best friend/sister. Amy reminds him a woman should never marry for money. Ahh this is great!

‘I’d have married you if you hadn’t a penny, and I sometimes wish you were poor that I might show how much I love you.’

‘You don’t really think I am such a mercenary creature as I tried to be once, do you? It would break my heart if you didn’t believe that I’d gladly pull in the same boat with you, even if you had to get your living by rowing on the lake.’

I’m just going to leave those quotes for anyone who thinks she married Laurie for money. Laurie says he and Marmee talk about that. If anything, what attracted her the most, or at least initially to Laurie was his looks.

‘Yes, I am, and admiring the mple in your chin at the same time. I don’t wish to make you vain, but I must confess that I’m prouder of my handsome husband than of all his money. Don’t laugh, but your nose is such a comfort to me.’ And Amy softly caressed the well-cut feature with artistic satisfaction.

This is Amy. She is a visual person and enjoys seeing beautiful things, so forgive her for choosing the most handsome man in town.

Amy does show some insecurities towards Jo but Laurie reassures he’s happy with her. So then they discuss a way of helping Jo and Bhaer. Because that’s Amy’s dream: to help others. She says it over and over again!!! They could have gone to donate to charities like so many other rich people do, but instead the decide to help talented people achieve their artistic ambitions.

It’s so fitting. Both Laurie and Amy gave up their dreams of being famous artists because they didn’t have genius. They could have grown bitter about it. But instead they decide to help those who really have genius. I love them.

Amy is also a very grateful person. She acknowledges that she achieved her current status because she got help from lots of people. I don’t remember if the whole “I want to make my own way into the world” conversation actually happened in the book. But Aunt March was right in the 2019 movie. No one, NO ONE succeeds on their own. We all need people,we all need help. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Jo herself needed her family, the public and the editors to succeed. The important thing is always to say “thank you”.

Ambitious girls have a hard time, Laurie, and often have to see youth, health, and precious opportunities go by, just for want of a little help at the right minute. People have been very kind to me, and whenever I see girls struggling along, as we used to do, I want to put out my hand and help them, as I was helped.’

Greta exploited that first line in this quote during the whole press tour, but I’m not sure she remembers why Amy’s saying that. The point is, Amy wants to help girls achieve their dreams. And here’s another “prophetic” element. May Alcott Nieriker was not only a talented painter. She also wrote a guide for women called Studying Art Abroad and How To Do It Cheaply. I don’t have the actual information now, but I think she also wrote columns in a newspaper encouraging women to study art. Neither May nor Amy were Queen Bees, they wanted to succeed, but they also wanted other to be with them. That’s amazing.

Laurie is on board. I mean, they have grown so much. Both of them started as probably the most spoiled characters. And now they are deciding to become a philanthropist couple.

So the young pair shook hands upon it, and then paced happily on again, feeling that their pleasant home was more homelike because they hoped to brighten other homes, believing that their own feet would walk more uprightly along the flowery path before them, if they smoothed rough ways for other feet, and feeling that their hearts were more closely knit together by a love which could tenderly remember those less blest than they.

You can ship whoever you want, but don’t trash this couple cause they are nothing but kind, generous and grateful. And they’ve achieved it with each other’s help and love.

In my opinion, people who hate Amy and Amy and Laurie read the book until Jo rejects Laurie. Then they do a tantrum and stopped reading/ paying attention. Honestly, that’s the only explanation I can think of for all the hate Amy receives.

[capsized-heart]

Sky Castles

Pairing: Laurie x Reader, Jo x Reader

Summary: Summer has always been your favorite season in Plumfield. Perhaps it’s the lovely, sunny mornings and cool, calm nights, or perhaps it’s the fact that you and Laurie and Jo are practically inseparable in midsummer. 

Follows the summers from childhood into young adulthood, with turmoils of the heart along the way.   

Word count: 6.1k+

Warnings: fluff!!!!!!!!

A/N: hi, everyone. I hope you’re all staying safe and well! Right off the bat, I want to mention that I’ve pinned a post on both this blog and my main blog @sarapii-peachy​ about resources for the BLM movement to raise awareness and petitions you can sign to help make a difference on a smaller scale. Everything counts!

i’m back and now with a bachelor’s degree :’) class of 2020 high school and college esketit!!! we did it!!! in this historic pandemic!!! Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit, this fic has been my rocky transition/attempt out of writer’s block after my INSANE last semester of uni and with all the craziness going on in the world. I hope you can channel and take in some of this innocent happiness and childhood glee into your own lives as we navigate the shitshow that is 2020. Saoirse x Timmy x Reader here to cure me of my depression lmao

this title is also based off a chapter in the Little Women book where Laurie, Jo, and the girls go to a park and gaze at the passing clouds and talk about their futures...it’s honestly really sweet. Loosely based off of that! 

Comments and feedback would be greatly appreciated on this💛! Not that you guys don’t leave love, but this fic like I mentioned is my attempt at kicking writer’s block in the ass, please let me know how I did! :) talk to me I missed you guys :)

tags: @ravenmoore14 @monikakrasnorada @dangertoozmanykids101 @toozmanykids​ @adawn1970​ @mrchalamet-mrstyles @chavezlikesthings @loveylangdon@daygiowvibe @statisticlytimmy @ceexreverse​ @bamposworld​ @lilttletimmy​ @cindere-llaaa​

gif credit to @sheisraging​

You love New England for its rich, distinct seasons, how they each paint the countryside in eloquent sweeps of shade and hue. Snow, sun, and breathtaking landscapes of fall color that tinge the treetops throughout the year. You love Plumfield, Massachusetts more for the warmth and love the March sisters have shown you, each alike in personality, nature, to the equinoxes that have shaped your girlhood, each tender memory from your youth synonymous with Meg, Amy, Beth, and Jo. 

 Autumn. Cozy and comfortable, where motherly Meg showed you how to heat and dip caramel with the apples you’d carefully picked from the orchard for a rare treat, the kitchen swirling with the aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, turmeric, and spices that left you feeling aglow. She’d taught you how to use an embroidery hoop, how to let dough rise, how to bake a proper pie and how to fix any clothing tear with a simple needle and thread, her compliments quick for your ever growing domestic talents. 

Winter. Like cool, ambitious Amy with her painting and taste for luxury and pleasure, how she would praise you for being the only subject suitable for her artwork. Laurie would moan and complain about sitting for hours by the fireside, begging to be excused to go play in the snow, but never you. Amy called you her muse, arranging your hair and skirts to her liking, softening your lips and cheeks with a touch of rouge. It was always such fun to make a day out of modeling for Amy’s portraits, talking and laughing as she’d set up her paints.

Spring. Sweet and angelic like little Beth, windows wide open as her piano trills would float on the warm air, curtains ruffling in the breeze. You’d sit beside her on the piano bench and turn her sheet music for her, to which Beth would give you a shy, rosy smile in thanks. She taught you how to play Chopin and Tchaikovsky, duet pieces where you’d accompany her on the keys, harmonizing with chords and your fingers flying easily together.

Summer. Your favorite season, refreshing, bright, where you and Jo would spend balmy days and long, cool evenings tucked beneath the shade of tree trunks and willows as you’d read in the sun, listen to Jo’s carefully crafted stories. Her creativity and imagination never failed to amaze you, how her writing could transport you to the farthest countries, or keep you grounded in whatever fantastical setting she’d constructed for herself. She’d often write about the two of you; two young girls, best friends who’d have all sorts of dazzling adventures exploring the corners of the world, without the taxing responsibilities of chores, or schoolwork, or the foreboding, inevitable reality that one day you will be young adults and childhood would be gone forever. You’d have picnics and excursions to the nearby fields, dozing in the sun and picking wildflowers, splashing and wading through the rivers and creeks when the heat became unbearable. Before Laurie would come and spoil your fun, of course. Then, you and Jo and Laurie would be like three rowdy boys playing in the woods, your laughter echoing off the trees and sparkling waters. 

You first meet Theodore Laurence as a young girl in the fields connecting the March’s property and your own. You live just down the road from the March sisters, your house tucked away beyond the bend and you’d make the trek across the meadow and grasses daily to visit your neighbors. Being an only child with your father off fighting for the Union, the March house was like your second home and the girls and Marmee and Hannah always made you feel like part of the family, your own loneliness long forgotten as soon as you’d step through the door and you’d be welcomed back with laughter, squeals, and embraces.

Today, you are seeking the company of your friends as usual, returning a book Jo had lended you with a basketful of scones you’d baked in repayment. A recipe you’d learned from Meg. The autumn air is surprisingly warm against your skin, indian summer, flushed and golden and dappling the plains. It makes you smile softly, your mood pleasant as you gather your skirts in time with your step, adjust your basket. 

Then, you see him. A boy making his way in the same direction, dressed smartly in a black woolen coat and matching trousers, a silk scarf tastefully tied around his throat. His curls are windswept and tousled, his gait relaxed. He feels your gaze and looks up, eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth ticks up in a friendly smile. Warmth floods your cheeks. You quickly duck your head.

He looks to be your age, but you’ve read tales of highwaymen and bandits roaming the countryside, how they’d feign kindness, only to strike unsuspecting travelers. Perhaps it was the work of Jo’s overactive and contagious imagination playing at your nerves, but why was he heading towards the March’s? You think of little Beth, how boys and newcomers made her nervous, timid. Your resolve hardens protectively. You have to keep this stranger away from the girls. 

Your pulse hammers in your throat as you lift your head to see the boy still looking your way. He waves his hand in greeting. 

“Hello!” he cheers. 

With your eyes still locked, you pick up your pace and keep your silence. Curiously, the boy finds this amusing, laughing, making it into a game as he too begins to walk briskly towards the house, of who will reach the door first. You narrow your eyes, summoning as much hostility and wickedness to your expression, demeanor as you can muster. The two of you are running now, his grin wide and eager, your own mouth twisted with hard concentration as you race each other.

Your chest is heaving when you brace yourself against the doorframe, blocking his way with your arm, back against the wood. He’s not a second behind you and is already on the stoop when you turn to face him.

“Are you Jo’s friend?” the boy asks you with a breathless, easy smile. “You’re quite fast, even faster than her.” He adds. He’s practically bouncing on his feet, jovial and buzzing with energy. The mention of Jo’s name curbs your distrust further. Bandit may now be off the table, and the thought makes you feel a bit foolish now, but how could Jo befriend such a strange boy without you knowing? How did he already seem to know who you are? 

Up close, you notice his eyes are green and mischievous, reflecting back the shimmering plains in flecks of amber as he gazes at you, your pulse fluttering ever so slightly…

You scold yourself internally. 

Handsome or not, he was undoubtedly a boy of trouble who had somehow won over Jo’s attention. And no easy feat, might you add. Headstrong and resolute, Jo’s circle of friends was quite small outside of you and her sisters, and you liked it that way. You’d like to keep it that way as well. 

You feel a sharp, ugly pang of jealousy curl in your stomach. You stick out your lower lip in a pout, turn up your nose in a way that would certainly earn a scolding from Marmee if she were to see your impoliteness. 

“Who are you to ask?” You snap.

Your words do not take the desired effect on him. Instead of hurt, or embarrassment, the boy smirks at you, amused. He cocks his head to one side and leans back on his heels, studying you like you’d just asked him why the sky is blue. His mood is breezy, amiable. 

“I’m Laurie. Is that better?” he offers with a comical pout of his own. You wrinkle your nose. This boy was starting to irritate you more and more.

“Surname?”

“Laurence.”

“Laurie Laurence? My, how silly and dull.”

He laughs, a low and pleasant sound that threatens to melt your angry facade. He shakes his head, hands in his pockets. 

“It’s a pet name. Jo calls me Teddy, but you may call me whichever you like,” he says. Your jealousy burns brighter, flushing your skin, twisting together with a hint of desire and yearning. 

You were once Jo’s everything, her favorite companion. She made this clear with how she’d tell you plainly, how she’d spoil you with compliments and stories and affection. And now, it seemed Jo knew another, this Laurie, well enough to call him Teddy when you had no pet name of your own. She seemed to speak of you, which would explain Laurie’s cordiality, but did she tell him how you were the only one she felt comfortable enough with to critique her writing? How she would encourage your aspirations of becoming a dancer by arranging the foyer into a stage and cheering for you while sitting atop the staircase like an admirer in the box seats? How the two of you could jest and play for hours with nothing but your imagination, crying from laughter until your bellies ached?

You feel a sense of betrayal and heartache at this, an intrusion, a tirade of emotions you can’t quite explain. Did you want Jo all for yourself? Did you want to befriend Laurie as well? Did you just want to be someone’s everything again and to be doted on and loved? 

Then, Laurie’s voice tapers into a quiet hum, a touch of softness. You hear the first indication of bashfulness as he looks down at you through full, dark lashes. “I hope the three of us can be good friends. I’d like to know you as well.” He murmurs. 

You don’t know what to think of him. Your chest feels tight and your cheeks burn, from anger or passion you can’t quite tell. You’re contemplating leaving your basket on the doorstep and shoving past him to go back home when you suddenly hear a clamor of voices and the turning of the knob and then the door falls open behind you. 

Laurie catches you before you can tumble through the entryway, hands finding your waist. Jo, vibrant and chipper as ever, lights up when she sees you and her sky blue eyes shine like glass. She has her cap fitted over her wavy blonde curls, skipping into your arms and for a moment you’re sandwiched between the two of them. You flush scarlet. 

“Oh, good! You two have met. Goodbye, Marmee! I’m going out!” Jo calls into the house, her voice overlapping with her sisters’ as they all greet you in a burst of chaos. But before Jo can usher you outside, you feel your childish temper flare and you squirm out of her reach and back through the open door and into the house. You set your basket onto the table, turning to hide your face in Amy’s shoulder with a flutter of your skirts as you feel the hot sting of tears prickle your eyes. You weren’t going to let this Laurie boy see you cry upon your first encounter.

“I’m not coming.” You mumble. Amy’s hand comes to soothingly pet back your hair with a hush of surprise and you sense her look to Jo with a characteristic glare.

“Jo, what have you done?” Amy presses.

“I’ve done nothing!” Jo retorts with a huff. Then, her voice turns gentle, curious as she speaks to you. “Dear, what’s the matter?”

“She wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if you hadn’t done nothing, would she?” Amy replies. You laugh weakly, tightening your arms around her. “See?” Amy says. “You’ve broken her heart, the poor thing.” 

“Jo’s made new friends,” you sniffle, embarrassed when Laurie’s eyes meet yours. Amy’s arms around you make you feel comforted and safe, brave enough to voice your true burdens when you say, “I’ve been replaced,” and gaze back at Laurie in defiance, protest. He frowns and shifts his weight, looking genuinely sorry with a guilt that touches his eyes. Good, you think. Let him think twice before stealing away your best companion. 

At this, Jo’s expression softens with understanding and warmth as she sees you curl into Amy once more. Jo takes a step into the open doorway, leaving Laurie on the stoop.

“No one could ever replace you, dear,” she says. “I only keep Laurie around for when I’m bored and you aren’t around to play. Look at him,” she gestures in his direction. “He’s aloof and vain, he’s lazy, he doesn’t have an ounce of the imagination you do-” 

“Don’t forget arrogant.” Amy pipes up.

Jo nods, wagging a finger at her sister. “Right you are, Amy. We mustn't forget that.”

Laurie starts to puff up with a temper, his lips twisting together and you can see him struggling with whether to speak up and defend himself, or let the girls have their fun for your sake. Jo goes on, saying he was devious and too pretty for his own good, making you and Amy giggle as she rubs soothing circles into your back. It’s rather polite and charming as you watch Laurie suffer silently, biting his tongue as Jo continues to defame his character before she finally turns back to you.

“I should have introduced the two of you properly, and for that, I’m sorry,” says Jo. “You must have had quite the surprise running into him.” Laurie again glances to you with an apologetic softness, wringing his hands together. “So, what do you think, Teddy? Are we ready to start afresh?” Jo asks him, hands on her hips. 

This makes you laugh, bubbly, your mood perking up as you finally lift your head from Amy’s shoulder. Of course, Jo would be able to comprehend your grievances and somehow peg Laurie with the blame, how she knew your heart was delicate and tender and so full of devotion that you were quick to hold grudges. Your envy dissipates and you feel a bit sorry seeing Laurie now in such low spirits, his theatrical demeanor now quiet and modest. 

“If she’ll have me,” Laurie murmurs, glancing up at you with such a pureness in his glittering eyes that regret starts to settle in your stomach.

“And I’ve written more of that story you enjoyed so much,” Jo holds out a hand to you. “Won’t you come hear what happens next?” she asks. Slowly, like the pull of a magnet, you untangle yourself from Amy’s arms and cross the room to take Jo’s outstretched hand. 

“Alright.” You say at last. Jo beams and cradles your face with her other hand, swiping away your tears with her thumb. You let her baby you like she would with Beth, enjoying her touch against your cheek. 

“That’s my sweet girl.” She smiles.

You then look to a sheepish Laurie and extend a hand, filled with new courage. You tell him your name and echo back his words that you hope the three of you can indeed become good friends, that you and Jo could do well with another acquaintance. The smile Laurie gives you is genuine, sweet and gentle, the corner of his mouth turning up in crooked delight. He clasps your hand warmly.

“I would want nothing more.” Laurie laughs. 

And with that, nestled between Jo and Laurie, you step back outside into the rich and golden light of a warm autumn afternoon, curious, excited for what adventures the day will bring you. 

**

Laurie joins your duo swimmingly and the rest of the year passes in pleasant tranquility as the three of you spend nearly every waking moment by each others’ sides. All Hallow’s Eve finds you dressed in a costume of French royalty, a pompous and comical gown of ballooning fabrics, complete with a powdered wig of pins and curls. You’ve painted your face with overlined lips and the trademark mole below your eye and the March sisters double over with laughter as you enter the foyer, fluttering your paper fan with an aristocratic pout, Laurie saluting your entrance with a roar of, la plus belle fille du monde! Jo is dressed as a fearsome pirate, outfitted in boots, breeches, and a captain’s hat, the wooden sword you and Laurie helped to paint swishing through the air as she parades into the room. Laurie enters last with a bang and a flash of white powder, appearing before your eyes in true magician fashion with a top hat and cane, a false mustache pasted onto his upper lip. All six of you then march across the field to the Laurence residence, now alight with carved pumpkins and lanterns, for your All Hallow’s Eve party of sweets and games.

Christmas brings festivities, flurries, and cheer. Sledding, ice skating, days of cold and winter fun making snow angels and snowmen, decorating the March house with holly, mistletoe, culminating into a hearty turkey dinner as you sit perched next to Laurie. The candlelight is homely, the sound of laughter and clinking silverware washing over you and you catch Laurie’s eye as he lifts his fork to his mouth. The two of you grin, leaning into each other with quiet happiness, heads bowed. You and Laurie both mirror each other in being only children, meaning these times together have been filled with welcome camaraderie. Where your instances of yearning for the companionship of siblings that only those without can understand, you’ve found company in each other, never a dull moment, never lonely. 

The thaw of spring keeps you tucked away indoors with torrents of rain pelting against the roof. Jo reads to you aloud from her novel, asking for your thoughts every so often as you and Laurie lounge on the sofa. When you articulate a point of slight critique on Jo’s use of character, Laurie teasingly tugs on a lock of your hair with a smirk. 

“How perceptive.” He murmurs, grinning.

You swat his hand away, glaring at him in mock anger. 

And as the days grow warmer, so does your heart. You’ve learned to share your affection between Laurie and Jo in a way you think is equally matched and that autumn day where you’d been so sour to both of them seems like ages ago. Soon after that incident, your bravado had quickly morphed into appreciation and Jo had been eager to break the ice between you and Laurie. And like all children, your differences and jealousy had been set aside as you’d discovered he was quite fun to be around. Laurie shared Jo’s quick wit and intelligence, like an androgynous mirror, so much of yourself also reflected in both of them in time and they in you. And yet, Laurie had a certain charm about him; how he could have the two of you in stitches and still maintain the air of sophistication that was so often expected of the Laurence boy. Admittedly, you were thrilled to have them both as your best and favorite playmates. 

In turn, they had done the same, showering you with loving attention and teasing, keeping you entertained with their bickering, quarreling over how they both wanted to occupy your time with their respective ideas for sport. Fighting over you. The thought of it makes you blush furiously. Yet, you feel cared for, like the most precious thing in their lives.You’ve also selfishly enjoyed being the apple of their eye and all the privileges that has bestowed; Jo writing you into her stories, featuring you as a beautiful sugar plum fairy, and Laurie promising to write you a French ballet, to someday whisk you off to Europe to experience high art and culture. 

At last, spring turns to summer and the three of you are back to mischief and horseplay in the great outdoors. The days are lush, agreeable, bright and pleasant with flashing sunshine and lofty clouds. You’re again reminded why summer to you is synonymous with Jo as you run together through the waving fields bursting with flowers, Laurie right on your heels as he too gives chase. 

“Jo! We were only kidding about the toads!” Laurie calls out from behind you. “It’s not like I have one in my pocket this very moment who’s squirming to get free and might have bitten me earlier when I caught him by the river and-”

He gives a shout of surprise and you hear his footfalls pause in the grasses. You and Jo both turn, breathless, already laughing when you see Laurie hopping about like hot coals are burning beneath his feet.

A small pond frog wiggles out of his pocket seam with a croak and then disappears into the meadow, waddling with great speed. With out-turned pockets and wrinkled trousers, Laurie stands there with his hands on his hips, confidence and humor masking his faults as always.

“My, they grow up so fast, don’t they?” Laurie says as he looks out over the crest of the hill with a humorous glint in his eyes, like a mother watching her child leave for the vast, cruel world. You and Jo collapse into a fit of giggles, holding each other upright by the shoulders and gasping for air.

**

Eternal summer and sun, a tender paradise. And as midsummer arrives, so does the heat. It’s stifling, heavy, the kind that suffocates and forbids any excessive movement or play, when being idle is perfectly acceptable, a rarity for you three young adventurers. Today, even nature herself seems to be drowsy from the stifling weather. Sunflowers droop from the weight of honeybees as they float lazily over the fields. Birds chortle from the treetops, as if too tired to fly, their song intertwining with the rustling grasses, tousled by the rare cool breeze. The sky burns a dome of brilliant blue above you, filled with towering, cotton white cumulus clouds. You watch as they drift slowly over the horizon. Like colossal ships at sea. 

You rest your head on Laurie’s chest and he toys with your hair. Jo dozes with her arms pillowed across your stomach and the three of you are a sleepy dog-pile of limbs. The feel of Laurie’s fingers makes you relaxed, drowsy. You hear Jo then give a soft snore and you chuckle.

“What is it?” Laurie asks. You can already hear the smile in his voice, how just your laughter is enough to amuse him too. You shake your head against his chest and the movement makes you giggle again. Laurie joins you, flopping out his legs, the heat making you both delirious and loopy.

You reach up blindly and give him a firm nudge, your hand landing just under his chin.

“Stop it, you’ll wake her.” You scold him with as much seriousness as you can muster and failing miserably. 

“Ow,” Laurie groans. He grasps your wrist, moving your hand to place it against his cheek and he puckers out his lower lip. “You’ve hurt me, I’m unwell.”

“Oh...Laurie, I didn’t mean it..” you sit up and coo, caressing his skin. Laurie looks pleased, a flash of playfulness in the green of his eyes as you lean towards him. “Let me take a closer-” 

You cuff him on the ear ever so lightly, catching him by complete surprise and Jo wakes, cackling, throwing her arms around you. 

Later, the three of you gaze up at the passing clouds, a comfortable silence settling over you all as you enjoy the afternoon.

“If we could fly up into those clouds and there was a castle with anything your heart desired, what would it be?” Jo asks. “Where do you two see your lives leading you?” Her tone is pensive, romantic. You and Laurie both hum in thought. 

“You first, Laurie.” You murmur. 

Laurie turns to look back at the bright blue sky, to the billowy clouds that look like spun sugar candy. 

“I want to live abroad in Europe and be surrounded by music, my music. I want to compose, I want to be renowned for my operas.” He declares with a proud puff of his chest. Jo nods, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“That sounds very much like you, Teddy,” Jo says. “A bachelor making art in Europe, how capital.”

He makes a face, then winks at you out of the corner of his eye. You stick out your tongue.

“You can do it if you stay focused,” you add. “No more billiards, for a start.” 

Laurie wrinkles his nose. “And what is it that you want, prima donna?” he asks you in challenge. 

You turn away with a roll of your eyes, gaze to the heavens. The thought comes to you easily as you listen to the birds, feel the breeze tickling your skin, drinking in the sky. 

“I want to be a ballet dancer in a prestigious company. I want to tour the world.” You say softly. Before, you would have felt embarrassment to share such an ambitious dream. But something about this moment, of being with Laurie and Jo makes you feel brave and safe enough to speak your mind, to put your words into the universe and have it come to fruition. Like a magic spell of sorts. With them here with you, you feel like any dream is possible.

Another chorus of hums and Jo looks pleased at your response. Laurie smirks up at the horizon.

“No fair if it’s likely to happen,” he laughs. “That’s cheating.”

“Oh, hush,” Jo chides with a rather hard sock to Laurie’s arm. She ignores his whines as he recoils and grumbles dramatically. “You’re well on your way, dear,” Jo tells you. “Now that you’ll be in that New York production next summer, I’m sure your opportunities will be plentiful.”

You hope she’s right. You’d secured a role as an ensemble dancer in an upcoming production of Romeo and Juliet, your most prestigious show as of yet in your young and budding career. Jo’s warm praise makes you blush like the flowers surrounding you, pink and full. Laurie’s quick eyes catch this, envious, and he changes the subject, a muscle ticking ever so slightly in his jaw. 

“And you, Jo?” He asks tightly. 

Jo exhales, crossing her arms behind her head. “Being a writer, of course. A great one. I don’t want to settle for less.” 

“Doubtful,” snides Laurie. “I don’t see it.”

You and Laurie look to each other with a quiet smile.

“No, not with all the prizes you’ve won,” you add. “Impossible.”

Jo shoots upright, too quickly for the heat. She slugs Laurie again.

“Ow...Jo, it’s too hot for your beatings,” he moans. “Don’t be a poor sport.”

She doesn’t answer him, only gives him a final push and hunkers back down onto the grass, turning her back to him with a huff.

“Why am I the only one that ever gets hit?” Laurie grumbles, opening his shirt to cool himself off and throws his forearm across his eyes for shade, frowning. You giggle, curling up beside her.

“I believe in your abilities, Jo.” You whisper to her. She takes your hand. 

It’s not long before the three of you are fast asleep in the sun. 

**

And as the seasons and summers roll on and the fruits of childhood begin to slowly ripen with the passing years, you find your companionship with Laurie and Jo changing and growing like never before. Your friendship starts to blossom into fondness, adoration. Indeed, you’ve loved them as playmates and companions since the three of you were children, but as you flourish amidst that quaint, strange, and budding pocket of time when young men and women come of age, where you and Laurie and Jo are now struck with bashfulness and an awareness of being alone with each other, your love for them arches and glows like summer sunset. 

This makes you acutely conscious of your appearance and dress, your posture, how you carry yourself, your mannerisms. How did your hair look? Did you laugh too loudly? Would Jo think your comments about her writing were too harsh? Why did you feel such warmth in your chest every time you saw her? And why were you starting to anticipate Laurie’s company? Why did you always have a sharp hope that he would come around with every visit of yours to the March residence? The constant whir of thoughts and worries was enough to make your head turn with heaviness, make you collapse from the pressures of simply existing.

“You’re acting odd,” Laurie tells you one day.

The two of you lay in a meadow with summer buzzing all around you, resting beneath the drooping leaves of a willow tree. Jo had been unable to join you as she had Beth’s lessons to teach that afternoon, much to her own disappointment and promising to make it up to you soon with an affectionate pinch to your cheek. You’d considered going home then. The last thing you wanted was to be left alone with Laurie, that familiar crush in your chest, an inkling of dread coupled with a shortness of breath, fear and excitement. You were terrified. But when he’d taken your hand and asked you so sweetly to accompany him to the meadow’s waters, how could you possibly refuse? 

But of course, Laurie was quick to notice your nerves. 

“The heat is getting to your head,” you say evenly with eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the sun on your face. “Besides, that’s rather rude.”

You hear him move and feel his presence directly in front of you, as if leaning in.

“It is a bit hot, do you feel up for a swim?”

This makes your eyes snap open. Following Jo’s mannerisms, you give him a shove in the chest. “You’re vile,” you grin. 

To your surprise, Laurie’s teasing, playful demeanor is nowhere to be found. His gaze is instead thoughtful, holding your own like you are all he sees. Immediately, you feel your pulse kick up in the side of your throat.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he continues with a shake of his head. “You don’t seem like yourself. I thought a change in our routine could be refreshing.”

You give a light shrug of your shoulders. “I feel fine,” you say. 

He brushes the back of his hand against your forehead. He hums, then curls his fingers down along the planes of your face to rest on your cheek. 

“You’re flushed,” he murmurs. 

Time seems to slow. The roar of blood deafens your ears and the fragrance of the sweet waters and blooms around you is overwhelming, sunlight refracting like prismed rainbow. Laurie kisses you then, a gentle touch of his lips, tilting your chin up to meet him. A sweetheart’s kiss, one that tastes of summer secrets as you’re shaded by vines and mist. When you break apart, he keeps his hand cradled against your cheek, his thumb circling the corner of your mouth.

You don’t know what to say. You’re speechless, your chest rising and falling softly, staring back at him with wide, surprised eyes. Laurie looks reflective, emerald irises half-lidded.

“What am I to tell Jo?” you whisper to him. Heat diffuses through your body like desert wind. You feel elated, cherished, frightened, embarrassed. Guilty. Laurie’s eyes flicker once more to your lips, his dark lashes fluttering with the movement. His smile is melancholy, yet knowing.

“You love her, too.” Laurie hums. It’s a statement, a confirmation of your feelings for both of them. The fact that the boy you’ve adored for so long has uttered your very thoughts out loud should have you completely mortified, yet there’s a small sense of comfort knowing he’d understand. Laurie knows this because he himself feels the same way, knows you or Jo or himself could never bring themselves to choose.

Laurie’s smile prompts you to lace your fingers together in the grasses and you give him a light peck on the cheek. He brightens up, raking a hand through his black curls. 

“You love me.” Laurie beams.

**

When you tell Jo about the kiss, she’s dancing with you on the porch in the evening light. Inside, you can see Marmee and the girls entertaining themselves through the windows as you practice your pirouettes. Jo is dressed in her writing jacket and trousers, keeping you balanced as she plays the part of the male dancer, perfectly competent. 

“What an impish boy,” Jo says of Laurie. You laugh and the two of you continue your steps, running through the dance number in a private rehearsal. Laurie is due to rehearse with you the week before your performance and the thought itself is enough to make butterflies explode in your stomach. Jo is a strong, leading dancer, while Laurie is graceful and firm, both capable of making the palms of your hands sweat with nerves. You know in your heart if you could rehearse with them, you’d have no fear on opening night. You’d already be invincible.

“Again from the top, please, kind sir,” you curtsey to Jo. Her smile is giddy and she gives a click of her heels before returning to her starting position. 

“Of course,” she responds. Taking your hand, she guides you through the steps once more, your heart soft and temperate like the evening around you.

**

The sound of applause is warm and full, washing over you as you take your bows. You feel weightless, aglow, eyes brimming with tears. You think you see Laurie and Jo leap to their feet in the audience, but the stage lights are too bright and you cannot see clearly and you think you may faint from happiness. 

In the auditorium, you’re still in your costume of Venetian silks and flowers when you’re swept off your feet by a boisterous Laurie and he twirls you around in his arms, his riding cloak billowing out behind him. 

“There’s our Capulet! You were phenomenal!”

“I’m so proud of you, dear!” Jo practically shouts with excitement, tackling you next in a bearish hug when Laurie finally sets you down. Their praise is boundless, endless, showering you in so much adoration that your heart feels close to bursting. You gather them close, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

“Thank you both for everything,” you choke out, squeezing them tight.

Over Jo’s shoulder, you spot Marmee, Meg, Amy, even shy little Beth with a bouquet of flowers and then you let the tears fall when you run to them and you thank your stars for the luck and love you’ve been blessed with.  

**

Another year, another summer soon arrives. You and Jo and Laurie are back in the fields cloud-gazing, a lazy afternoon of heat and leisurely time well spent. Things feel familiar, recognizable between the three of you, yet there’s a sense of distance between now and when Jo had first asked about your castles in the sky all those summers ago. 

 Jo was now making a name for herself in the writer’s world, having won another prize in a New York newspaper. She’d been gaining the attention of devoted readers and critics alike and was now working on a proper novel, her longest project as of yet. She tells you not to worry, that she’ll be sure to feature you as a central character in the same way she’d done as a child, nostalgic tales of pirates and adventure and love.

“My sweet sugar plum fairy,” she’d gruffed, pulling you into another powerful hug.

Laurie had finished his opera, now with aspirations of pulling funds together and opening a production in Europe. He was still in the midst of planning and conversing with his grandfather about finances and departure dates, but it seemed like Laurie’s promise of spiriting you away to Europe could now become a reality. And with the possibility of your very own French stage debut! 

Thus, you three souls were being tugged into three far corners of the globe, to your respective callings. The realization scares you, to know that this may be one of the few times you have left together. But underneath it all, there was a sense of excitement to see the world and make it your own. You were satisfied, proud knowing that the three of you had come so far with your aspirations and you had no doubt you would find success in your art.

In the comfortable silence, serenaded by the hum of cicadas and birdsong, you gaze up to the clouds gliding over Plumfield, Massachusetts. You feel an aching longing for those childhood days of carefree play, the countless rose-tinted memories of Laurie and Jo by your side, yet looking up at the sky, you know these memories of summers past will always be with you. 

And there would be better and more to come. 

[thatsamericano]

She Tastes Like Apple Juice and Peach

Pairing: Nyo America/Nyo Romano. Mention of Nyo Romano/male OC, mention of nyo Ukraine/nyo Canada. Human AU. 

Rating/Warnings: Teen. Compulsory heterosexuality and internalized lesbophobia from the POV character. Mix of fluff and angst, with an ambiguously sad ending. (The pining is mutual, but they’re not ready to talk about it yet.)

Word Count: 2337

Summary: Amelia kisses Chiara when she’s just 14 as “practice” for her future boyfriend. Amelia doesn’t even know if she wants a boyfriend, but she also doesn’t know how to tell her best friend the truth.

A/N: Title from “She” by Dodie. I use “Yuri” as the name for nyo Ukraine, which I got from this post by @feynavaley. This fic will be up on AO3 soon.

Amelia was glad to catch up with Chiara, and glad that she actually got to hug her and speak to her in person. She couldn’t begrudge Kiki for spending time with her family in Italy, and it wasn’t like Amelia had been completely alone with nothing to do this summer. But she had missed her best friend, and it was nice to spend the night together eating junk food, watching TV, and enjoying each other’s company.

Amelia liked hearing about Chiara’s cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, but the one thing she could have done without hearing about was this boy Chiara had met. He lived in the house next door to her grandparents, and he was named Salvatore. Chiara’s eyes sparkled when she talked about how cute and nice Salvatore was, and her cheeks flushed a shade similar to the color of her ruffled rose pajama top. Amy smiled, but she felt a little queasy when she heard the name the special emphasis Chiara put on his name. Maybe she had eaten too much popcorn, or maybe it was the fact she’d never really felt like that about a boy. Gilbert and Magnus were her friends, but they were in the grade above her and treated her like a little sister. Tolys and Kiku were also fun to hang out with, but she never got butterflies around them, and definitely not like the overwhelming sensations Madeleine seemed to experience around her friend Yuri. Many times, Maddie blushed bright red as she shyly confided in her twin about something sweet Yuri had said or done. Amelia had never felt the urge to gush like that about anyone (except Chiara, which didn’t really count, since they were best friends and both girls).

Maybe it was like her dad had said, and Amelia was just a “late bloomer.” Or maybe she was weird for not getting crushes on people. She always felt strange whenever girls her age started talking about the guys they liked, because she never had anything to say. She felt strange now, because she couldn’t understand why Chiara was so impressed by stuff like Salvatore being a good soccer player. Amelia was good at lots of sports, including soccer. Even if he could beat her at soccer, she could probably kick his ass at baseball.

The bottom dropped out of her stomach when Chiara started talking about a date she and Salvatore had gone on. It wasn’t much, just a trip to the movies and a walk around town, but it was more romance than Amelia had ever experienced. That was why she had to hide her jealousy behind a fake smile.

Chiara giggled as she got near the end of her story. “And then when he was dropping me off at the house, Totò, he uhh… he kissed me.”

“He kissed you?” Amelia repeated. She was surprised, and her chest felt weirdly tight. Probably indigestion from all that popcorn.

Chiara nodded and tucked a strand of wavy hair behind her ear. “He did. It was my first kiss ever.”

Amelia nibbled on her bottom lip and looked away. She hadn’t been kissed yet, and she was sad that her best friend had experienced something so life-changing without her. “Was it nice? Did it feel good?”

“It was okay, I guess?” When she glanced over, Chiara was frowning at the memory. “Honestly, it would’ve been a lot better if he hadn’t pulled away after two seconds and sneezed in my face.”

Amelia laughed. “He sneezed in your face?! Who the hell does that?”

Chiara tossed a pillow at her. “Shut up, idiota! It wasn’t his fault! He was allergic to my perfume!”

Amelia took several more seconds to calm down. “Still, that sounds horrible, Kiki. I’m sorry.”

“It was kinda gross,” Chiara admitted with a shrug. “The second kiss was better. I was wearing a different perfume then.”

So, Chiara had kissed this boy multiple times. Amelia hadn’t kissed anyone ever.

“So is he your boyfriend now, or…” Part of Amelia really didn’t want to hear the answer, but she felt obligated to ask.

Chiara sighed. “He lives in Palermo, so that wouldn’t really work. It was a summer fling, and it wasn’t meant to last. We had fun, but we’re both okay with it being over now.”

Amelia nodded, even though it didn’t make much sense to her. She didn’t think it was possible for Salvatore to get over someone as beautiful and amazing as Chiara. No boy would ever be able to.

“Well, while you were breaking boys’ hearts in Sicily, my summer was much more boring by comparison. Just the normal stuff you’re used to.”

Chiara chuckled and nudged her side. “So no torrid summer romances for you?”

“Nah. I guess guys don’t see me that way.” Amelia knew that was supposed to bother her. It bothered her mom, who had repeatedly told Amy that boys would never notice her if she kept acting like such a tomboy. But Amelia wasn’t even sure if she wanted boys to notice her. She wasn’t sure how she would react if they did.

Chiara rolled her eyes. “Boys are stupid. I wouldn’t waste too much time worrying about what they think.”

Amelia frowned and stared down at the toenails Chiara had painted for her earlier. “Easy for you to say. You’re super pretty, like a 14-year-old version of that famous Italian movie star whose name I can’t remember right now. And I’m just… well, me.” She was chubbier than a lot of girls her age, had metal braces on her teeth, and had to wear glasses if she wanted to see worth a damn. Amelia didn’t think she was ugly, but she didn’t think she was particularly pretty either, and that made her feel bad for reasons she didn’t entirely understand. Why did it matter how she looked when she wasn’t even sure if she wanted boys to notice her as an attractive young woman?

Unless she wanted girls to notice her as an attractive young woman. But that couldn’t be true, right? Amelia was straight. She had to be. There simply wasn’t any other option.

“Cara, you shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.” Chiara reached out and covered Amelia’s hand, which made Amelia turn to look at her in surprise. “You’re gorgeous. Anyone who can’t appreciate what’s right in front of them isn’t worth your time.”

Her voice was soft, and her hazel eyes were full of conviction. Amelia’s heart raced inside her chest, but she didn’t think she was having a heart attack or suffering from some kind of illness. It felt too wonderful and bewildering to be unhealthy. Was this how Maddie felt with Yuri?

Amelia grinned. “You think I’m gorgeous? Really?”

Chiara’s face turned red as she huffed and pulled her hand away. “I’m not blind, okay?! There’s no need to be so smug about it!” She wrapped her arms around her knees, clearly embarrassed, and Amelia wanted to hug her. Or something.

She opted for the hug. “I’m not smug. I’m just… really flattered. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, so you saying that I’m gorgeous is kind of a huge deal.”

“G… grazie.” Chiara sounded shy and flustered, which was adorable. God, the guy who got to be her boyfriend someday would be so lucky.

Amelia frowned. Ugh, there was that feeling again. That heavy, sinking feeling in her gut. She didn’t want to think about Kiki with a boyfriend. She didn’t want to imagine her best friend kissing a boy, touching him, talking about him with the same gleam in her eye she’d had when she spoke of the boy she kissed on vacation. Or maybe a brighter gleam because her boyfriend would mean more to her than a short summer romance.

Amelia let her arms fall away from Chiara and gave her the brightest smile she could. “It’s probably for the best. I don’t think I’m ready for the whole boyfriend thing anyway.” She wasn’t sure if she’d ever be ready for that. “Especially the kissing part. I wouldn’t know what to do if some guy tried to kiss me.” She’d probably freeze or run away.

“Well as long as you don’t sneeze in the guy’s face afterwards, you’ll be doing better than Salvatore.”

Amelia laughed. “True.”

Chiara looked nervous all of a sudden. She started playing with her hair. “I could show you, if you want.”

“Show me?”

“How to kiss people.”

“Oh. I mean, yeah? If that’s not too weird for you.” Amelia wondered if it should be weird for her. The idea of kissing Chiara didn’t feel weird at all.

Chiara smirked at her, nervousness apparently gone. “If it was too weird for me, I wouldn’t have offered, would I?”

“No, I guess not.” Amelia tilted her head towards her best friend and squinted in confusion. “Should I?”

“Just hold still.” Chiara cupped her face, leaned in, and connected their lips. Her stomach swooped like she was on a rollercoaster, and Amelia was too stunned to move or even close her eyes.

Chiara pulled away. “You’re tense. Just try to relax. Close your eyes and pretend I’m someone you want to kiss.”

Not a problem. Amelia nodded and closed her eyes, waiting for Chiara to kiss her again. This time she was prepared, and when she felt that swoop in her stomach, she sighed and parted her lips against Chiara’s mouth. Her mouth felt tingly and kind of staticky, but in a good way? She liked it. She liked kissing Chiara.

Chiara moved her lips hesitantly, and Amelia tried to copy her movements. Chiara’s tongue flicked over her lower lip, and Amelia let out a startled whimper. Chiara ripped her mouth away suddenly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! I got caught up in the moment and took it too far. Dio, I never got close to kissing Salvatore like that…”

Amelia caught her flailing hands in her own. “It’s fine. I didn’t mind.”

“You didn’t mind. You didn’t mind that I almost French kissed you? Are you fucking insane?!”

Maybe she was. She had been disappointed that Chiara stopped, but Amelia couldn’t say that, could she?

“We were practicing,” Amelia claimed, ignoring how her gut churned with guilt. “It doesn’t count.” Amelia hated lying to her best friend, but she didn’t know what else to do.

Chiara’s eyes looked troubled. “No, I guess it doesn’t count. But if you start to feel uncomfortable, just tell me to stop.”

Amelia nodded. “Okay.” She didn’t think she’d want to stop Chiara, so the promise was unnecessary.

Chiara slowly began to lean in, and Amelia closed her eyes.

The kiss was warm, gentle, and sweet. The tingly feeling in Amelia’s lips returned instantly, along with the roller-coaster swooping in her stomach. Chiara’s tongue shyly entered her mouth, and Amelia could taste the apple juice she had earlier along with her peach-flavored lip gloss. Amelia idly wondered if she should have brushed her teeth first or maybe put on some kind of lip balm.

Chiara pulled away a few seconds later, flushed and panting for air. “That… that was…”

“You taste like apples and peaches,” Amelia told her, too stupefied to say anything else.

Chiara giggled. “You taste like popcorn and soda. I kinda liked it, though.”

“Do you think I need more practice?” Amelia asked. She tried to make sure her voice didn’t sound too hopeful.

“Probably not. There’s nothing wrong with the way you kiss. You just have to remember not to freeze up at the beginning, and you’ll do just fine.”

It was the best answer Amelia could have realistically expected, but she still felt keenly disappointed. There was an ache inside of her that hadn’t existed before.

Chiara snuggled into her side and turned her gaze towards the television, so it wasn’t all bad. Amelia put an arm loosely around her and pretended to watch the TV too. If she breathed in, she could smell the remnants of popcorn and candy, along with a hint of lemongrass and oranges. It was coming from Chiara, and it might have been the perfume Salvatore was allergic to. She chuckled softly at the thought.

Chiara yawned. “What’s so funny?”

“Guess we know I’m not allergic to your perfume. I didn’t sneeze on your face.”

Chiara snorted. “No. No, you didn’t.”

Amelia felt the urge to confess the truth, but she pursed her lips and kept silent for the next several minutes. Only when she felt Chiara’s body growing heavier and her breathing getting softer did she dare turn her head to look at her best friend.

Kiki’s chestnut hair was tousled up against her shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and her eyebrows were slightly arched. Her nose descended in a straight line, and her lips, full and reddened from just kissing Amelia, were parted slightly. She was by far the most beautiful thing Amelia had ever seen, and that ache inside her grew. She felt the butterflies everywhere, not just her stomach.

“I don’t think I want a boyfriend,” Amelia whispered, so quietly Chiara probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it even if she were awake. “I think I just want you, and I think maybe I always have. I know you don’t feel the same way, and that’s okay, as long as I still get to be your friend.”

Chiara frowned in her sleep. “Amore,” she mumbled, but didn’t say anything else. Amelia had no idea who she was talking to. Probably not Salvatore, since that was just a summer romance she had claimed to be over now. Perhaps, a silly part of her mind whispered, she meant Amelia. Perhaps their practice meant something to her too, and she didn’t want a boyfriend either.

Amelia let herself bask in that delusion until the program she was only half-watching was over. Then she turned off the TV, closed her eyes, leaned into her best friend she loved more than she was supposed to, and fell asleep.

[i-write-about-anything]

Baby Daddies Part 29

Requested: idk why but i’m having some serious baby fever. could you something with a character(s) of your choosing with kids that’s super fluffy and amazing like the rest of your writing?

(you have two children with two different baby daddies lol bye)

Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x Reader, Issac Lahey x Reader

Series Masterlist

Third Person POV

When Stiles finally woke up the sun was shining in his face. Amy and Peter had been looking at him for an hour, not knowing what their father was doing on the floor. Noah hadn’t wanted to disturb Stiles; he knew what it felt like to lose a wife he would have never wanted his son to go through that much pain. Noah hadn’t slept much that night, he tossed and turned remembering the loss of his wife and how hard Stiles had taken it. This was going to be ten times worse. Not only did he lose (y/n), he lost the mother of his children that were still too young to understand where their mother went. He knew this was going to be hard, he knew that he needed to be there for his son, whether he wanted him there or not. Stiles sat up, his eyes searching the room before they landed on his kids, he had seen her last night, he had seen her carrying Peter, there was no doubt about it. He stood abruptly, both Peter and Amy jumping back at the sudden move. Stiles looked all over the room for a trace of her, but there was none. He was losing his mind and it had only been a day, he sighed and sat on the bed, his head coming to rest on his hands as he let out a couple tears. He always thought of the possibility that he may not come home from work one day, never in his wild dreams would he have thought she’d never come home, especially when she was a werewolf. Amy moved closer to Stiles, the only father figure she would ever accept from now on. Her arms wrapped around his arm, she was crying, of course she was, all the emotions that escaped Stiles were transmitting towards her. He took her into his arms, she was just like her mother, always wanting him to be happy, regardless of what she was feeling. “I love you, daddy.” Amy whispered only making Stiles choke out a sob.  

“I love you too honey.” He kissed her head before bringing Peter into his arms, Peter was more like Stiles, he needed to be comforted, he needed to be told everything was going to be okay. “I’m not going to let anything happen to either of you, you got that?” Amy nodded as Stiles kissed Peter’s forehead. He loved them dearly, he would die for them both, even if Amy wasn’t biologically his, there wasn’t a single thing he wouldn’t do for her. That’s how Noah found them, all bunched up on the bed. Noah never knew how good of a father Stiles was going to be, he’d always been a troublemaker in High School, but he knew when he brought (y/n) home, that would change. He took her in with child, a child that wasn’t his but he still cared for her as his own, that’s something Noah would never understand. Stiles had changed the moment he allowed (y/n) love him, like something in him was missing.  

“Breakfast is ready, if you’re up for it.” Noah’s voice echoed the room, three pair of eyes met him, they were all so broken and there was nothing he could do about it. “Scott’s on his way, wants to help as much as he can.” He added and Stiles nodded, he wasn’t going to tell his dad that he had seen her last night, he’d admit him to Eichen House, there was no doubt about that. He had seen his mom on multiple occasions when he had just lost her, it’s how he’d cope. He made her up, talked to thin air thinking it was her, and that’s exactly what he’d do now, imagine his girl, even if it would only hurt more. “Come on kiddos.” Noah tried his best to sound cheery, but he couldn’t not when he too was hurting. He grabbed Peter in his arms, Amy not wanting to be away from Stiles stayed with him.  

“I’ll be right down.” Stiles gave his dad a small smile before he stepped out.  

“Mommy wouldn’t want to see you cry.” Amy whispered making Stiles heart break a little bit more.  

“I know bug, I know.” He rubbed her back and kissed her forehead before rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “You hungry? I'm sure grandpa made those blueberry pancakes you love.” Stiles gave her a pained smile, one she’d obviously overlook, she was small, she didn’t know much about faking. She nodded before Stiles placed her down on the floor, she walked out of the room as fast as she could. Stiles sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before standing up.  

“She’s right, you know.” Her voice slid through his ears making his eyes close in pain, he didn’t want to turn around, he knew he’d break down again.  

“I can’t do this without you.” He sobbed out; his eyes fixated on the door.  

“Baby, you can do anything.” Her voice was silky, he wanted to hear it forever, he wanted to be able to face her, even if this was a figment of his imagination.

“I can’t.” Stiles whispered and when he turned, she was gone, no trace of her, of course. He was imagining her, just like his mother. He shook the tears off, his sobs dying down before he stepped downstairs, Scott, Allison, Liam and Lydia all in his dad’s living room, they looked better than he did, of course they did, they hadn’t lost the love of their life. Scott looked at his best friend, his eyes puffy and red, his nose too. “What are you guys doing here?” His voice broke.  

“To be here for you.” Lydia spoke as she stood from the couch setting down a cup of coffee Noah had given her. “We know this is going to be hard, but you don’t have to do this alone.” Lydia offered a small smile and then he saw her again, standing next to Lydia.  

“She’s right, you don’t.” She smiled at him and he instantly felt the tears fall from his eyes. He looked down, not being able to look at her face, the face he loved so much. God, he missed her, he wanted her to be there, with him. “Come on baby, let them help you.” She whispered next to his ear and that’s all it took for him to fall onto the stairs, his sobs filling the house as Scott and Lydia moved to wrap their arms around him. They hadn’t lost anyone this close to them, they didn’t know how to handle it but they were going to do anything and everything they could to help Stiles, because he needed them right now, he needed everyone. “They love you.” Her whisper was close to his ear and he couldn’t help but sob even harder. Allison cried into her hand, determined to be the one that could stand strong in the pack, but she was far from being strong. A knock at the door caused all their heads to snap towards it. Noah wiped his eyes before walking towards it and opening it. Revealing an alarmed Parrish, Jordan Parrish had become new to the pack, he’d known (y/n) for a while now, his grieving wasn’t as bad as the rest of them but he grieved nonetheless.  

“I know this is a bad time, is there any way I can talk to you in private?” He spoke lowly, not wanting to alert Stiles and the others, bad news at a time of grief was never good for anyone, but Parrish needed help and Noah was the sheriff. Noah looked back at his son, his friends wrapping him up in their arms before nodding and moving passed the door to step outside. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes wondering to the street, it was silent, he hated that. “Isaac hasn’t been found, last time we saw him he was leaving the hospital, he just vanished.” Jordan sighed, his hands resting on his gun belt.  

“I need him found in the next twenty-four hours Parrish, my son doesn’t need to see him in the streets, it won’t end good.” Noah sighed before pinching the bridge of his nose, he couldn’t leave his son alone, even with his friends here he needed some kind of stability, someone had to be strong for him.  

“We’re doing the best we can Sheriff.” Jordan whispered. “How’s he doing?” He looked back at the door and as queue he heard Stiles’ sobs.  

“It’s only going to get harder, I never expected for him to go through this like I did, he didn’t deserve it.” Noah sniffed, wiping his tears once more.  

“No one deserves this Sheriff. We’re going to catch that son of a bitch.” Parrish had a different way of grieving; he was a hellhound. Noah sighed, patting Jordan’s back before saying his goodbyes. He stayed outside, scared that he might break in front of Stiles, he released the tears he’d held onto. Inside, Scott had finally gotten Stiles to calm down, he guided him to the kitchen to sit him down with his kids, their smiles making Stiles’ heart tighten. They were so innocent, he hated that this had to happen to them just like it had to him. Stiles didn’t eat, he just picked at his food making Amy scold at him, telling him what he always told her, quit playing with your food. That made him smile a bit before he thought about how (y/n) would have laughed at the fact that her daughter was just as quirky as she was. He looked down at his plate, not wanting the tears to set Amy off again. Peter was silent, eating away at his bacon as he looked at Scott, he’d always loved his uncle Scott, he did everything he wanted him to do. But seeing him like this was different for Peter, he’d always seen him happy and willing to play, now he was sad and Peter didn’t know why. Stiles’ head lifted when he heard voices coming through the front door, his father and Scott’s mom, Melissa, had just entered. She hadn’t gone back to work after last night, she held Scott in her arms as he cried last night, she hated watching her son cry.  

“Stiles.” Her voice was low, he wanted to look at her, he did, but he knew he’d break down all over again when he’d see the look on her face. He nodded before pushing the plate away from him. He looked at Peter who opened his arms for him, Stiles complied at brought his son onto his lap, kissing his forehead and closing his eyes. (Y/N) could have argued with Stiles all day, but no matter what she said, Peter looked more like her than he looked like him. He loved both Amy and Peter with all his heart, he’d do anything for them, he just didn’t know how he was going to do this. “I know this isn’t a great time, but we have some paperwork to go through, there’s also this,” She paused before placing a ring on the table beside him. Stiles looked at the ring and instantly began to shake, tears running down his face. He had bought the ring years ago, he was nervous, went to ten different stores before finding the one. He'd kept it for so long before asking her, he should have done it earlier, he should have married her years ago. He took the ring in his hands, placing it in his pinky, the only finger that fit the ring. He placed his head on top of Peter’s his tears soaking his son’s hair. “I’ll leave the paperwork with your dad, again, I know this isn’t the right time but we need the papers by the end of the day to release her body to the funeral home, they’ll take it from there.” Melissa hated this part, she’d only done this with strangers, it was hard, but this was harder, she knew (y/n), she knew everyone in her life.  

“Thank you, Melissa, we’ll have them to you as soon as you can.” Noah cleared his throat, grabbing the folder from her. He placed it on the kitchen counter, he’d do most of it himself later. Amy looked at Stiles, her lip pouting before she wrapped her arms around his neck, Stiles gladly took her into his arms, sitting her down on the thigh that didn’t occupy her brother. Stiles held onto them both, trying his best to control his tears, he couldn’t, no matter what he did.  

“I can help with those; I helped my mom when my grandmother died.” Lydia’s voice cut the silence that was created, mumbles coming from everyone as they planned where they were going to hold the funeral. Scott offering his house, Melissa agreeing. Allison letting Noah know she could take care of letting people know. All while Stiles sat there, ring in his pinky as he cried with his children in his lap, he heard their voices, he just couldn’t understand them.  

“It’s okay not to be okay baby.” There it was, the voice he wanted so desperately to hear. “Maybe you were right.” She spoke before Stiles’ head lifted, he saw her there, sitting next to him, Scott and Allison behind her as they spoke to his dad. “He looks like me.” She gave Stiles a small giggle that broke his heart. “I’m going to miss them, you know.” She continued as she leaned forward, her eyes landing on Amy first. “I’ll never get to help her when she has problems, when she gets her first boyfriend, although I'm sure you’ll do your best to scare them off.” She giggled again, tears still spilling from Stiles’ eyes. “But she’ll get through this, she’s a strong girl, stronger than all of us. Peter won’t understand where I went.” Her voice dropped. “My little boy.” A tear escaped her eye. “He’ll grow up just like you baby, your dad did a great job raising you, you’re going to be great at raising him.” Her eyes met Stiles’ before he shook his head.  

“I can’t.” He whispered out, the voices in the background stopping completely, all eyes now on him. He hadn’t said a word since their arrival. “I can’t.” He shook his head again before sobbing. Amy had been crying already, he hadn’t even realized it. Peter, on the other hand was still silent, his eyes searching for someone to take him from his father’s arms, he didn’t know how to feel. Scott took Peter in his arms before Stiles brought Amy’s face in his hands, his hands covering most of it. “It’s okay bug, it’s okay.” He whispered as his thumb wiped away her never-ending tears. “Don’t cry honey, please.” It only fueled his tears. Her tiny hands came to Stiles’ face as she desperately tried to wipe his tears. Stiles sniffed, grabbing her small hands in his as he brought them to his lips to place a kiss on them. He gave her a kiss on the forehead before standing from the table, bringing her into his arms before looking down at Peter in Scott’s arms. He took Peter into his arms before exiting the kitchen leaving them to talk about everything he didn’t. He walked to the living room, sitting on the couch, Liam had been glued there, he couldn’t be brave like Scott, not right now.  

“Nemo?” Peter’s voice broke the silence in the living room and before Stiles could reply, Liam had gotten up to move towards the television. Peter clapped his hands before settling into Stiles’ lap, Amy moving to sit in the middle as Liam came to sit back down. Neither of them said a word to each other, instead they both looked at the television, not quite paying attention to it, they drifted into their own minds, wondering where the hell they were going to go from here. Stiles occasionally ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, earning a smile from him every once in a while, before he diverted his attention back to the screen.  

___

Jordan had gotten a call from Noah only three hours after his visitation at his home, he needed someone to take care of the cleaning at Stiles’ place, he’d agreed, wanting to do anything that could help him and Stiles out during this hard time. He’d just arrived at Stiles’ home, he’d been here earlier in the morning looking for a sign of Isaac, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. As he walked into the home, he couldn’t help but feel strange, he’d discovered multiple bodies in homes before, but this was different for him. He led a group of crime scene cleaners up the stairs to Amy’s room, a trail of blood following from the entrance. Someone must have closed the door when everything had happened. Jordan hadn’t known how severe the fatal wound had been which was why he was surprised to see the blood spattered all over the room. Amy’s bed had been soaked; the blood now dry as it started to give a smell to it. Her toys had blood splatters and the he could have even sworn he saw some of her flesh on the floor. He quickly moved out of the room before letting them do their job. A single noise made him draw his gun as he moved towards the master bed room. He’d heard rustling, it was faint but it was there nonetheless. He slowly opened the door, his gun pointed in front of him as he examined the room. He could have sworn he was hearing things but when he heard it again it led him to the closet, then he heard it again. He made a quick move to open the closet, his eyes wondering all around it, finding absolutely nothing. He shook his head, clearly sleep deprivation was doing things to him. He put his gun back into its holster and walked out of the closet, the picture frame on top of the dresser catching his attention as he moved closer to it. He took it in his hands, examining it, she’d look happy, Stiles and the kids all in the same photo with her. Her smile was piercing, she was always the one to keep everything and everyone together. As he continued to examine the photo a reflection on it caught his eye. He focused on in before turning abruptly finding no one in sight. Shaking his head, he pinched the bridge of his nose before his phone startled him. "Hello?” He spoke into the phone before placing the picture back on the dresser and walking out of the room.  

“We spotted him, three miles out of beacon hills, we couldn’t catch him, bastard was too fast.” A deputy’s voice rambled on before Jordan was running out of the house.  

“I’m on my way, do not engage, he’s considered armed and dangerous.” He didn’t give him the chance to reply as he hung up the phone and climbing into his car and taking off. He was determined to catch Isaac, dead or alive at this point.  

___

Stiles and his father were now on the way to the hospital, they’d needed to turn in the paperwork and they wouldn’t accept it from Noah, Stiles was her partner. Amy and Peter had stayed back with Scott and Allison. Lydia and Liam had now gone off to do other things that had to be done, like order the flowers and depressing shit like that. Stiles hadn’t said much, Noah knew this phase and he knew the one that followed would be even worse. “How about we take off after the funeral, huh? To that cabin we went to when you were a kid, Peter and Amy would love it.” Noah’s eyes didn’t shift from the road, he knew he’d start shedding tears the moment he saw the look on his son’s face.  

“Whatever.” Stiles shrugged, his voice low, he didn’t want to think about burying (y/n), his heart broke even more at the thought of seeing her lifeless in a casket for the last time. But he guessed seeing her like that was better than seeing her bleed out in his arms, the image wouldn’t leave his mind, the hole in her chest was hard to forget. He shook the image out of his head before turning his attention to his father. “How long after mom died did it start to feel normal?” His voice broke, he hadn’t remembered much when his mom passed away, but then again, he wasn’t left alone, he’d always had his father, now, he was alone with two kids.  

“It never started to feel normal son.” Noah’s voice too broke as he gulped. “It’s going to hurt, for days, weeks, years, it’ll hurt even after twenty years. But you have two wonderful kids who take after their mother, and when you realize that they’re the closest thing to having her here with you, that’s when you’ll start living again. It’ll always hurt, but with time you’ll learn to live with it.” Noah sobbed and cleared his throat. “I wish I hadn’t had to tell you that, you shouldn’t have to learn to live without her.” Stiles nodded, his own tears slipping from his eyes.  

“We didn’t even get to get married. Or have more kids, I wanted more kids.” Stiles whispered, his head dropping to his hands. “It should have been me.”

“Don’t.” Noah hissed out before pulling to the side of the road, the abrupt stop making Stiles look up. “She didn’t deserve this, no. But if you think she wouldn’t have stopped you from confronting Isaac then you’re out of your mind. She would have done anything to keep you and the kids safe and that’s what she did. She died protecting her family.” He didn’t look at Stiles, instead he rested his head on the steering wheel. They both stayed silent for minutes before Noah pulled back onto the road. They’d arrived at the hospital in a matter of minutes but Stiles wasn’t ready to walk back in there after last night.

“I can’t do this, I can’t.” Stiles spoke lowly once Noah was out of the car.  

“You can do this.” Her voice spoke causing Stiles to look at the rear-view mirror, there she sat in the backseat. “Come on baby, just walk in there, give them the folder and everything else will be taken care of.” Stiles shook his head.

“I don’t want this to be it. I didn’t want to lose you.” He whispered.  

“Oh baby.” She sighed, her eyes closing. “I didn’t want to lose you either. I didn’t want this to happen but I had to do what I did; I would’ve lost my baby girl if I didn’t step in and that would have killed me anyways.” Stiles shook his head not wanting to think what could have happened, not after he’d already lost his love.  

“I can’t do this; I can’t be alone. You were it for me, we were supposed to grow old together, have more kids, I can’t do this!” Stiles’ screams made Noah look back into the car, the sight of his son uncontrollably crying made his heart break. He wanted to do nothing but comfort him but he knew he’d break down with him and right now that’s not what he needed.  

“Stiles.” Her voice was soft, he closed his eyes shaking his head. “I love you, always, never forget that.” And with that, he could tell she was gone. He took five minutes to control his tears, and once he did, he exited the car, folder in hand as he stepped next to his dad, neither of them saying a word as they walked into the building. Melissa was pacing back and forth, her mind racing at what they had just told her.  

“Melissa?” Noah’s voice broke her from her trance and her eyes meeting his before she looked at Stiles.

“What’s going on?” Stiles cleared his throat as he handed her the folder. She took it, placing it on the counter before she sighed.  

“There’s really no easy way to say this but her body, it’s missing.” Her voice rang through Stiles’ ears, there had to be a mistake, surely Melissa had already gone to check herself and that only left more unanswered questions.

______

Support my writing by buying me a coffee?

story tags; @beaiiir

forevertags; @bojabee@imperfect-circle@dakotapaigelove@a-gir1-has-n0-name@riverdalehoeeeeeee@sabertooth-potato@heyitscam99@peterstarksstarker@royal-fanfic@vixengustin88

[mrschimpf]

Longing with a Cherry Tomato on Top | Chapter Twenty-Eight| Part One | Innocent & Unknowing

Title: Longing with a Cherry Tomato on Top | Chapter Twenty-Eight, Part One | Innocent & Unknowing Author: Nate Pairing: Paris/Rory, varying POVs Spoilers: Nothing to be spoiled show-wise, as we're well into my alternate universe here. Rating: R (sexual situations, allusions and recalls about past mental and physical abuse of a minor) Disclaimer: Despite all of us wishing she didn't at this point, Amy Sherman-Palladino still owns the Gilmore Girls, along with Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions, Hofflund-Polone, and whatever entity in the AT&T Deathstar now owns Warner Bros. Television (currently WarnerMedia). All other products mentioned within are the property and trademarks of their respective owners, and no disrespect is meant or implied. And yes, the mention of the setting in the end of this part was exhaustively researched and is completely true to where it is in Hartford. Archiving: AO3, RalSt, FF.net and aff.net. Since I have had so many issues with other sites shutting down after posting my work, from now on you must explicitly contact me to archive this story and promise to maintain your posting venue for more than a year. If you intend me to help start a Prory/Gellmore site, you need to commit to it for the sake of our fandom. Summary: It's the first Christmas Day for Paris and Rory together, and the Gilmore girl begins to understand why December 25th has never been easy for her upper-class girlfriend beyond not observing it due to her religion. Author's Notes: I'm posting this 2½ years after I promised a new chapter, and I do apologize for that, whole-heartedly. But I don't think any of us expected that 2020 would be spent since March inside most of the time, wearing a mask outside in public (including going to college), and that we wouldn't have struggles with unemployment and trying to find things to do. I hate to admit...my muse died for this story for about a year because I didn't feel well mentally. Coronavirus (and everything going on with it politically and our 'president') has not helped either. I'm getting help so hopefully in the future I can focus on this story (along with improving my life overall in general) and get it out to you faster. But as it is...I'm just one person, and I hope you do understand what goes into the process of writing it. During this time I also got a new MacBook Pro...so I'm learning how to work with MacOS. As someone who has been all-Windows since 3.11, this is a change I'm getting used to for sure (but it's so much easier to work with text!).

Also...the reviews of certain people who think I am a 'man-hater' (LOL!) also got me down and made me feel maybe I was too hard on Dean in the last chapter. But being in my friend circle, I think I got him right, and I reject those types of reviews out of hand in the future. You are reading a fic about Paris and Rory as a couple. Do you really think I'm going to be neutral on how awful and possessive Dean was? I've warned you multiple times before where I'm coming from. I'm going to say this now; if you're a fan of Dean or Christopher, please don't bother me any further. I'm not going to change my views that they're horrid men, and I won't waver on that going forward. Thus, I take back my early statement in a past AM that 'I mean no harm to Dean'...a statement I made in the mid-2000s before I wised up and found my current friend circle. And I stand 100% behind how he was in the last chapter.

And as for chapters...going by my word count, we're going to end up with this 'chapter' being around 130,000 (!) words, so I've decided over the next month, up to Thanksgiving, I'll be releasing it over about four-six parts rather than in one chunk, so you can pace yourself. That way...you have something to look forward to, and I can hopefully look forward to your feedback and criticism, which I will take, in any form.

For this chapter, I'd like to thank everyone who has stuck by me for the decade and a half plus reading this story loyally, and even those who are still discovering the show just now and have only strengthened the flame for Gellmore. One of them is anxiouspunk on AO3 (or on Tumblr, @paris-geller-was-straightwashed), who has posted a lot of amazing fic with our favorite duo in all the eras of the show (outside S6/7), including with their children. They are an amazing writer, and I'm glad to know them. Through our shared fandom, I've also gotten to know Lena (@lanafannabanana on Tumblr) over the last couple years, and I would recommend their Good Girls stories and if you just love obsessing over Rachel Weisz and Christina Hendricks. As always, Danielle and Taylor are always my rock, and I thank them for being here for me as all this has gone on. Also @dollsome-does-tumblr on Tumblr for being the one cranking out so many Gellmore gifsets (and some great fic herself)...thank you for your service!

The biggest reason I agonize over this chapter...is it establishes my overall headcanon for Paris and her most special of days, along with more of her family background beyond ASP's 'she has a mean mom'. I read too many stories where Mitchum is Worst Father Ever to Logan, and Paris always spoke with love about her dad (despite the S6 tax mess which just felt like ASP wanting to write another character and dragging Liza with her). Over the last two decades, this is how I imagine how she came into the world, and how despite it all, she does have a support system with her family. I wanted to post something for not only the 20th anniversary of Gilmore Girls, such a special show to be, but for the day Liza Weil first came onto our screens as Paris Gellar. Though I did not actually watch on October 12, 2000 (my first episode was Rory's Dance two months later, thus I had to back-track and be thankful the WB aired reruns...in January...on VHS...remember those?! Video on demand and stacking rights are a lifesaver!), I still hold Paris close to my heart, and telling this story as a love letter to her character and what might have been with Rory is what I hope to leave behind in this world proudly one day.

To end this novel of an author's note (last paragraph, I promise!), yes, I'm going to please say vote safely and carefully on November 3 if you're in the United States, or before then if you can. Mail your vote (or put it in a government-endorsed safe dropbox), and please don't waste it on a rapper or former pageant owner who is disrespectful to those sacrificing their lives to keep everyone safe, despite his own suffering he learned nothing from. I (and everyone I know) would like to wake up looking forward to January 20 at noon, knowing our country's future is bright, rather than four more years of...this. And so much bigotry. I usually tease about this...but if you're a bigot, please click out of this story and move on to anything else. You are not welcome here.

That said, on with the story. Title inspiration from "Fear" by Sarah McLachlan.

AO3 | FF.net

[clan-sayeed-fic]

Let me earn your trust (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios) Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they're the property of Pixelberry Studios as well) Warnings: angst Rating: Mature Author's note:  I'm not a native English speaker, I'm sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

This chapter is shorter than last ones, don't hate me haha

I was thinking that I'll be able to upload the 15th chapter today too. But since I was at work yesterday and I'm going there today too, right after posting this, I know for sure that it won't happen.

When I came back home yesterday, I was so exhausted like whoa... I love this job, but when I'm not working day after day in it, it takes a lot of my energy to adjust. And what amazes me the most is that even if I can barely stand on my feet from exhaustion, I cannot fall asleep like wth... and the fun fact is that around 1:30 a.m. I came up with the last line of this fic hahaha

Idk if anyone even reads those notes haha maybe, it's better if you don't. I'm going to answer your comments, if you leave some, in the evening😄 (12 noon here)

~ 1400 words

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

Chapter 14

"I wouldn't worry about what happened this much, little girl," Adam's voice got Amy's mind out of her thoughts.

Without thinking, she took a glass of water that he held for her.

Amy retained only a few flashbacks from their ride to this place. The moment when she got into a limousine. A short talk with Adam, who tried his best to make her feel better. After that, she remembered getting out of the car and how she found herself in the town suburbs. In front of the impressive mansion.

The last thing she knew was the sound of her own voice refusing the offer of wine since she still felt the end of the hangover.

And now, there she was. Sitting on this enormous, white couch. Surrounded by ornaments worth millions.

Amy took a sip of water, letting the cold liquid flow down her throat.

Another single tear escaped her eye, traveling down her cheek before she wiped it away. She hadn't felt this alone and broken during those long four years. Amy made promises in her life that she would be tough, never cry, and move on. For them.

"I know what'll make you feel better," Adam's words drew her attention. "Come with me, I can show you something wonderful."

Amy forced a weak smile and stood up, following his steps.

They walked through the living room, in the opposite direction than the main entrance. Adam guided her to other doors, which were leading to the back yard of the mansion. The man opened the doors and gestured Amy to go outside. It was still daylight, so he had to stay in the shadows.

Amy walked through the doors, being blinded by the artificial light. Her eyes needed a few moments to adjust to this source of light before she could take the surroundings in. And the view she saw was truly breathtaking.

Amy didn't know how it was possible that, despite bad weather outside, the flora here was growing such beautifully. She couldn't decide if it was thanks to the heat lamp and equally heated ground or some talented and devoted gardeners.

Either way, the creation was a true masterpiece.

The grass was mown equally, surrounding the flowers. The flora was varied in so many ways. Starting from colors, kind, to height. There were plants that she saw many times in different gardens in New York so far. But also some of them were exotic, unknown for Amy.

In the center of the garden was growing an impressive, old weeping willow. Its stems were dancing slowly in the weak wind. Some of the leaves reaching the ground, some using the wind to fly as high as it was possible.

And that was the plant that especially got Amy's attention.

She stood speechless, looking at the tree, feeling warmth spreading in her chest. Feeling of safeness.

"I can see you're mesmerized by that Salix babylonica," Adam grinned behind her.

Amy snapped out of her thoughts and smiled, feeling better.

"I reminded myself that I have seen this kind of tree somewhere else before," she said mostly to herself.

"Ah, memories..." Adam spoke with his charismatic tone. "They are a fascinating thing, aren't they? I always say... if you desire to understand someone properly, you need to face his recollections at first."

Those were powerful words that hit straight to Amy's heart.

"There is some truth in that," Amy said, her mind uncontrollably traveling to Kamilah.

They turned around and walked inside the building.

Adam stopped near the bar, filling his glass with white wine. Once again, he looked at Amy with an unspoken offer.

"Oh, thank you, I'm good," her answer was still the same, but he didn't push her.

He walked Amy to the living room, and they both sat down on the couch at an appropriate distance from each other. For a moment, no one was stopping the silence that fell between them.

Adam was gathering his thoughts and pieces of information that he had learned about this human so far. He always needed to be prepared for how the conversation would go. The coincidence in his speech wasn't an option.

"Priya told me about the night when you were working as her waitress," Adam started, taking a little sip of his drink. "I feel utterly sorry for you getting to know all of this under such terrible circumstances."

Amy looked into his eyes, and she couldn't find a lie in them. Either he was telling the truth, or she was too blind at that moment to see his manipulative side.

"It happened," Amy swallowed, rethinking what she can do and tell around this man. "And I don't regret this."

"Even turning your best friend into the vampire?" Adam asked, without judgment in his voice.

Amy moved nervously on the couch, trying to hold back her emotions.

"If you're asking me what would I rather do: undo Lily's death or getting to know all of this. The answer is obvious," Amy's expression serious. "I would never sacrifice my friend for getting us into this."

"Loyalty, I respect that," Adam clasped in his hands, putting the glass aside. "I bet you have something that most humans are searching for in a friend."

Amy felt touched by those words.

"Why are you distinguishing humans and vampires so much?" Amy asked with curiosity, trying to not sound too brazenly.

Adam stopped smiling for a moment. She took him off gourd, and that was not an easy thing to accomplish. He quickly composed himself and spoke with his usual, confident, and eloquent manner.

"Because the human part is long gone as soon as you become the vampire, my friend," Adam was waiting for Amy's agreement. He was used to people agreeing with him, but it didn't happen this time. "But, from what I can notice, you're seeing things differently?"

Amy looked at her hands while thinking about her opinion on this subject. She wasn't such naive, even if she was feeling hurt about what happened between her and Kamilah. She still knew that she had to choose words carefully when it went to this man.

"I believe that everyone is worth redemption," she said, keeping gaze of his brown eyes.

Adam smiled, being sure that Amy had nothing else to say. And when he wanted to add his few words, she spoke again.

"And..." Amy's voice was full of hope. "I believe that if you once were a human... then losing humanity after turning depends on you."

Amy choose her words on purpose. Especially those which referred to being a human before turning. She knew that even people could behave without humanity or mercy. There's no need to be a vampire to act like a bloodlust creature. And she knew that those people freaked her out even more than this new world that she was still adjusting to living in.

"I can see now what Adrian and Kamilah saw in you," Adam's voice sounded absent.

At that moment, a chauffeur walked into the living room, clearing his throat.

"You called me, sir," he bowed before them.

"Indeed," Adam cheered up, shifting back to his usual behavior. "I want you to drive Ms. Campbell to her apartment."

The chauffeur smiled at Amy, so she returned the gesture feeling more relaxed when another person appeared in the room. She stood up and followed the young man to the doors after saying goodbye to Adam.

When she was near the entrance, Adam's voice stopped her.

"And, Amelia...." he said with a neutral tone. "I'm still thinking about our deal."

Amy froze for a moment. Her muscles tensed due to the sound of the name that she hadn't heard in years. Quickly, she regained control over her body and voice, thinking that it was a common mistake to consider her name as a shortcut from Amelia.

Keeping her eyes and facial expression under control, she turned around, smiling naturally.

"You know where to find me," she said with fake confidence in her voice.

After those words, Amy turned around and walked out of the house, heading to the limo.

A bad feeling curled under her skin, but sanity made her think that it was just a coincidence.

And, as Adam said, their deal was still on.

The only thing that Amy was not aware of was how valuable information Adam learned this day.

And how it would affect his next move.

Next chapter: 15

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

tag list: @onyxgaytrash, @scarlet-letter-a0114, @caliseds, 

@lightning-fury I know this chapter is more like a tease, but it’s the beginning of my big plan haha 

[a19yearoldtryinherbest]

Not Her. Pt1 [Aaron Conners]

Masterlist

Part 2

15 Days of Hader

Day 3

Prompt: LeBron tries to help his friend get over Amy.

Pairing: Aaron Conners x OFC

Warning: Fluff.

A/N: Day three of 15 Days Of Hader! Starting with some characters, also my first Aaron Conners fic! 

To be honest I hate Amy, not because she’s flawed but because the movie treats it like she did some groundbreaking improvement but she only did a big gesture and I think this baby deserves more than that. I’m really defensive of Aaron apparently… anyway.

Also I did this in one night so I apologize for any mistakes.

Word count: 2138

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

LeBron was a good friend. However, he wasn’t a great listener, he did hear the words but he would still do the thing he wanted to do. For example, Aaron had said he wasn’t ready to met somebody else after Amy but LeBron still got his wife to call her friend Isabella for a blind date. But he didn’t tell Aaron until the day of the date, when he swung by his office with a way too big of a smile on his face.

— There he is! The best doctor in the businesses! — he said, doing a bit of a dance with his shoulders as he happily strolled the towards Aaron’s desk.

Aaron smiled and stood up before realizing LeBron’s over the top happy demeanor and he got concerned — What did you do? — he asked.

LeBron face dropped a little — Can’t I just visit my best friend at work? Can’t I just be happy to see you?

Aaron pressed his lips together, feeling guilty and a bit disappointed at himself, he moved towards LeBron and open his arms so LeBron could hug him — Yeah you’re right, I’m sorry. — he apologized as they half hugged each other — How are you? — he asked as he let go of the hug.

— Good, good. — he smiled for a second before saying — You got a date tonight.

Aaron stopped smiling and he looked at him dead serious — What? No, no, no.

— Man come on, it’s Savannah’s friend! — he pleaded — You met her at my birthday.

He looked at him a bit curious and reluctantly asked — Who?

— Isabella. — LeBron smiled. Aaron thought back to that night and smiled a bit remembering the funny and pretty girl he had talked to through the whole night. He wondered why he had never asked LeBron to set them up with her before meeting Amy — C'mon, you liked her. You two are perfect for each other! — he assured.

— You said the same about Amy. — he accused.

LeBron looked away for a moment and scratched the back of his head for a second — Yeah… I was kind of lying at that moment.

Aaron frowned, confused — What?

— Aaron, you wanted kids, she did’t; you wanted commitment, she didn’t; you wanted to stay in New York, she took that job on LA and told you not to follow her. — LeBron shrugged his shoulders — It was a really big mismatch but you were happy, what was I supposed to do?

— I don’t know. Not lie to my face maybe?!

— I know, I’m sorry, but you know I’m supportive. I’ve gotta get behind you on whatever you want. And for a moment I really thought you guys were going to make it. — they both stayed quiet for a second, LeBron waiting for the reaction his friend would give.

Aaron sighted and looked down, defeated — I know. I did too.

LeBron shortly squeezed his shoulder to show him some support — I know it’s rough but Isabella is amazing, you’ve got to meet her. — the doctor gave him a unconvinced look — Please? Savannah is gonna kill me of you don’t go to the date.

So he did. By eight p.m. he was at the restaurant LeBron had made the reservation at. It was a nice place, nothing too fancy. He looked around, already at the table, he felt a bit too nervous, it had been almost three years since he had been on a date and he it was like every time he tried to do it again he felt less hopeful about it. He thought back on the date with Amy, all the laughing and drinking, he guessed it wouldn’t be as exciting or as fun as that night at the bar with Amy. And he was right, it wasn’t as exiting, there was almost no rush going through his body, maybe because his heart wasn’t in it, but also because she wasn’t Amy.

When she arrived, right on time, he pulled the chair for her and she allowed it and thanked him, something Amy would have never done, and it made him him feel a little better but then it only reminded him she wasn’t Amy. They ordered quickly, she ordered raviolis and he got spaghetti. And as they waited they

— So, LeBron told me you’re a doctor, his doctor. — she said with a quiet smile — Of you don’t mind me asking, what made you go into sport medicine. — she asked, and she seemed genuinely interested, Aaron looked at her a bit surprised.

— Oh! Well, I’ve always knew I wanted to be a doctor and then I always liked sports how they bring people together, and they’re fun, I guess, so I thought “why not bring them together?” — she smiled with him but didn’t say anything. And he thought that Amy would’ve already been talking by that time. She wasn’t distracted or anything, she was waiting, listening, so he kept talking, more than he has ever done — And you know, a lot of really intricate injuries come from sports. And there’s pressure, but it’s fun and competitive. There’s a lot of perfectionism needed to fix a million dollar knee and it bring a thrill that’s so calming at the end of a surgery. — he said, almost losing himself in his short monologue. He looked at her, she was still listening.

— What’s it like? — she asked, almost hypnotized by the way he was talking about his job.

He crooked his head in a way that was completely endearing to Isabella — What?

— What is it like, the calming thrill? —

It’s like for a moment everything is in your hands, the whole world, and you have to hold it and then it’s gone, and you feel it all, the fear, the responsibility, the rush and the calm and satisfaction that you’ve done a good job. — he smiled a bit before looking at her — Sometimes you take it for granted, but then you remember it. —

She smiled at him — It’s alright. I’m a architect and an interior and landscape designer.

— And how does that work?

— Well, I started as a interiors and landscapes designer but, right after working for Savannah and LeBron I realized I really love architecture, so I went back to school and now I’m head architect and co-owner of my firm. — she smiled and he smiled back, he didn’t ask anything and he didn’t seem that interested but she continued, a bit discouraged — Seeing something you’ve designed, something you thought of in your head being built like you wanted it to be… It’s something that amazes me every time. Like you said, sometimes you take it for granted but then you remember.

He smiled at her, really smiled for the first time in some time, it he let it go immediately, feeling guilty for feeling happy. Isabella noted it but didn’t say anything. A few seconds later the food arrived and they dived into conversation again.

Aaron couldn’t help but to note every difference between her and Amy, she didn’t order any alcohol, Amy would’ve. She let him do much of the talking, Amy didn’t really do that. She laughed loudly, Amy only did that when she was drunk. She was assertive in her words and talked with calm and authority, like if she had meditated on each word before saying it, Amy just talked, sometimes without thinking, going nowhere but getting somewhere at some point. And every time he noted some of those things, even the small ones, he would distant himself a little, he didn’t wanted to be rude but he couldn’t help but to dwell on his memories with Amy.

Isabella tried to ignore it, because when he was there he was fun and nice and really, really interesting but it became obvious the last bit of information she was given was more critical than she had thought — I’m sorry, you just seem a bit off. — he snapped out of his own world and looked at her, embarrassed — Are you alright?

He looked at her and nodded — Yeah, just thinking.

She sighted a little — Savannah told me you got out of a big relationship a few months ago. — she said and Aaron looked at her hesitantly — I get it, — she assured — you’re probably thinking back on her.

It stayed quiet for a second as Aaron came to peace with his situation — Yeah.

He was waiting for a snap, a big “fuck you, buddy. I’m worth more than this”, maybe a glass of water being splashed on his face. But he got none of that because she wasn’t Amy or any of the girls he had dated before. All he got was a — What was she Like?

He looked at her in dumbfounded. It took him a moment or two, not sure of what to say — She’s just the most enigmatic person I’ve ever met. If she wasn’t happy about something she would say something… or scream it. — he laughed to himself a little and Isabella just smiled. He slowly looked away, his vision crowded with memories of him and Amy, and his heart shrunk knowing she didn’t loved him anymore but he continued anyway, smile still on his face — She can tell a story in a way that, even if is dull and uninteresting, it makes you crack up. She does what she wants to but gives little things at random. She’s an amazing writer and friend. — he smiled wider, his heart aching a little more by the second — She’s fearless and honest, passionate, a bit too much sometimes but, when she smiles, when she gives that glimpse into her real self… it just… — he looked at the girls in front of him and realized what he was doing — Oh God, I’m sorry.

— No, i-i-it’s all right. — she assured, and he looked at her with in surprise — It’s a better sign than a guy talking shit about his ex. — she half-assed joked, smiling a little to herself before saying in a more serious tone — It’s nice, the way you talk about her. — she smiled shyly — You’re still not over her, I get it. It’s hard sometimes and she sounds amazing. I’m sorry it’s over, you seem to love her very much. — she smiled at him shortly and he smiled back. She stood up leaving her napkin over her almost empty plate. She grabbed her purse and looked back at him, a soft, shy smile on her lips — You’re great guy Aaron, even when you’re thinking of somebody as I talk. Don’t dwell in the past too long, ok? — she said, almost like she was asking a small favor. She stood in place for a second and looked at him again — If you’re ever ready, if you get over her, you can call me.

He saw her walk away and in the back of his mind came idea that she gave him something that he never had been given and therefore he thought he didn’t really deserved. She gave him understanding. No one, not even Amy, had given him that. He lost sight of her as he thought that maybe Amy leaving wasn’t it, maybe there was still something after. He felt hopeful and he thought of Isabella, who had made him hopeful. She wasn’t like Amy, she was peaceful, quiet and open and it made him feel calm, like at the end of a surgery just a little less rush; Amy made him feel a rush going through his body, but not the same rush as surgery, Amy’s rush was an uncertain one, without the calm. He smiled but that smile vanished when he realized he didn’t have her number.

He called for a waiter and when he arrived said — Can I get the check as quickly as possible? — he said, almost stopping himself from just running outside to catch her.

The waiter smiled a bit and said — She already paid for it. — he took something out of his pocket and gave it to him — She told me to give you this.

He took the paper the young man was giving him and unfold it as the waiter left him alone. He looked at the paper, seeing a note with some numbers under it “I got this one. If you’re ever ready you can pay me back - Isabella”

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 3

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 3 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 3/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - The ending of this has me all soft.]

Elise and the Doctor looked out the window.

“Oh my god,” Elise breathed, “It’s beautiful.”

“It is. It’s amazing,” the Doctor said, putting his hands on Elise’s shoulders.

“Where are we?” Cyril asked.

“Technically, we're not anywhere. We've flown into the Time Vortex. You've what you wanted. Those idiots down there can burn your old home and you'll be safe out here. But these people helped you, and they're in my protection. Now help them. How do we get home?”

The Queen placed her hand on Madge’s shoulder. “Think.”

“Sorry? What?”

“She must only think.” The Queen stepped back.

“Madge, did you hear that? You said it, but did you hear it?” the Doctor asked, kneeling in front of her, “You've got to think.” 

“Think what?”

“Think of home. Just picture it, feel it! You have to really feel it. Can you do that?” The Doctor ran back over to the window, “Your mind is controlling this vessel. You can fly us all back for Christmas.”

“My head is full of trees, Caretaker. Can't you fly us home?”

The Doctor knelt in front of her again. “I don't have a home to think of. And between you and me, I'm older than I look and I can't feel the way you do. Not anymore. And you really need to feel it, Madge. Everything about home that you miss until you can't bear it. Until you almost burst.”

“Till it hurts? Is that what you mean, Caretaker? Till it hurts?”

“Yes. Yes.”

Madge took a piece of paper out of her coat pocket. “Well then, home in time for Christmas!”

The dome swayed and shook as they flew through the vortex.

Elise smiled and laughed. “She drives like you!”

“Oi!” the Doctor snapped, making Elise laugh even more.

“What's happening? Where are we going?” Lily asked.

“Show them! Show them!” the Doctor said.

The window expanded so everyone could see the vortex corridor.

“Ha! The Time Vortex. Your mother is flying a forest through the Time Vortex. Be a little impressed. What are you going home for? What's pulling you there? Please, try. Please, think.”

There was an image of a man holding a baby. It morphed into the man in uniform waving goodbye.

“Reg!” Madge said.

“Daddy?” Cyril asked.

“My Reg!”

Flashes of memories appeared on the screen.

“That's it, focus on Reg. Be careful, but focus on him,” the Doctor told her.

“Oh, I don't know.”

“How did you meet? You and Reg. Tell me how you met.”

“He followed me home. I worked in the dairy. He always used to follow me home.” The memory appeared on the screen.

“Look at Father. He looks so young,” Lily said.

“He said he'd keep on following me till I married him. Didn't like to make a scene.”

“Just stay focused. Think of home. This thing, it works psychically. It'll find a signal and lock on,” the Doctor told her.

A fighter jet appeared on the screen.

“No. No, please. Don't show me that. Please don't show me that!” Madge cried.

“Is that Daddy's plane?” Cyril asked.

“Please, I don't want to see that! Please!” Smoke poured from the jet as it went down.

“No, no, no, no, no, Madge. Don't break the signal now. We can't break it now. I'm sorry, Madge!” the Doctor said.

“Not the night he died. I don't want to see him die!”

“What do you mean, the night he died?” Lily asked.

“Oh please don't make me watch him die!”

“Mummy? Is Daddy dead? Mummy!” Cyril cried.

“Goodbye, my love. Goodbye!”

The dome landed roughly, throwing everyone to floor. Now that was familiar.

The Doctor stood up and rushed over to Elise to help her up. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Elise nodded. “Check on them,” she said, gesturing to the others.

The Doctor walked over to them, waving the smoke away. “Cyril, Lily, are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Lily said.

The Doctor soniced the wooden King and Queen.

“Are they dead?” Madge asked.

“No, they're just wood now. They've been emptied,” the Doctor told her, “The forest has gone from your head too, hasn't it?”

“But where is it now?”

“The life force of the whole forest has transmuted itself into a sub-etheric waveband of light, which can exist as a…”

Madge gave the Doctor a look.

“The souls of the trees are out among the stars, and they're shining, very happy. And you got them there. Well done, Madge.”

“And where are we?”

“Home! Christmas morning.” The Doctor jumped up and ran over to the window. “We've taken a bit of a short cut. Haven't you always wanted to do that?”

“Mother?” Lily asked.

“Oh, look at you. You've been so brave, you.” Madge started to walk forward to embrace her children, but they backed away from her. “Look, we're home again, see?”

“What did you mean, watch him die? Where's Father? Where is he? Where's Daddy?” Lily asked.

Madge unfolded the piece of paper in her hand.

“Why are you holding a telegram? Well, what does it say?”

“Please, just tell us,” Cyril begged.

“Tell us!” Lily yelled.

“I imagine you'd prefer to be alone,” the Doctor said, remembering how it felt to tell your child the hardest thing they’d ever hear.

“I don't believe anyone would prefer that. Stay close, Caretaker,” Madge said.

“We'll be right outside.” The Doctor placed a hand on Elise’s back and they left the dome.

“Dad?” Elise asked when they were outside.

“Yes Ellie?”

“Earlier…when they said I wasn’t ready…does that mean…?” Elise’s hand came up to rest on her stomach and the Doctor smiled.

He cradled the back of her head and kissed her forehead. “Yeah.”

Elise threw her arms around him as her eyes filled with tears.

After a moment, they turned around to see a fighter jet on the front lawn.

The Doctor ran back inside and came out with Madge and her children. They stared in disbelief.

“Madge Arwell, who flew a whole forest though the Time Vortex, plus one husband,” the Doctor told her, “He did it again, Madge. He followed you home. Look what you can do, Mother Christmas.”

“Madge, what am I doing here?” Reg asked.

“It's Christmas Day, my love!” Madge said, “Where else would you be?”

“Christmas Day? How?”

“We took a short cut.” The little family was reunited.

A tear slipped down Elise’s face.

The Doctor wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her temple. “Happy crying. Humany wumany.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Doctor and Elise stepped out of the TARDIS to find Madge in the attic.

“Of course. It's you, isn't it? My spaceman angel, with his head on backwards!”

The Doctor spun around in a circle. “How do I look the right way round?”

“Funnier.”

Elise hid a laugh behind her hand.

“Okay…”

“So you came back.”

“Well, you were there for me when I had a bad day. Always like to return a favor. Got a bit glitchy in the middle there, but it sort of worked out in the end. Story of my life.”

“Story of our life, you mean,” Elise said, joining him at his side, “I never got to thank you for getting him home safely.”

“You’re welcome. And thank you,” Madge said, hugging them.

“Oh, you did it all yourself, Madge Arwell. But thanks for thanking us,” the Doctor told her.

“Now, the last time I saw you, I went back the next day, but the police box had gone.”

“Yeah. You want to see how it's done?” The Doctor started to walk back to the TARDIS, but Madge stopped him.

“No. I want you to stay for Christmas, please.”

“Ah, well, you see, things to do, people to see.”

“Of course. Yes. Family of your own.”

“Well, no, actually.”

“Oh. Yes, yes, you said no family. But there must be people who love you. Friends.”

Elise smiled softly. She missed Amy, Rory, and River. The only family she’d ever really known.

“No. Well, yes, but. It's a long story. But they all think I'm dead. Never mind. Anyway, watch my box do its thing. It's really cool. You'll love it.” The Doctor started to walk back to the TARDIS, but Madge stopped him again.

“No. No one should be alone at Christmas.”

“I'm fine. We’re fine. We don't mind. We’re really very good at being...”

“I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about your friends. You can't let them think that you're dead. Not at Christmas. And what about Elise? Surely your daughter would want to spend Christmas with her mother.”

“It's complicated. Very complicated. It's far too complicated to explain right now.”

“You must tell them. At once. Off you go.”

The Doctor playfully rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yes, Mum. I'll think about it.” He kissed her on the cheek and Elise hugged her again. “Now, eyes on the box,” the Doctor said.

Elise and the Doctor headed for the TARDIS.

“Oh, Caretaker? What if I require you again?” Madge asked.

“Make a wish.”

They went inside and took off.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The Doctor nervously knocked on the blue door in front of them.

“Argh! If that is more carol singers, I have a water pistol!” a familiar Scottish voice yelled, “You don't want to be all wet on a night like this.”

The door swung open and Amy stood there. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

“Not absolutely sure how long…” the Doctor said.

“Two years,” Amy told him. She squirted him a few times.

“Okay. Fair point.”

“So, you're not dead.”

“And a happy New Year!”

Amy leaned in close to him and said, “River told us.”

The Doctor scoffed. “Well, of course she did.”

“She's a good girl. Well? I'm not going to hug first.”

“Nor am I.”

“Oh, out of the way. I’ve done nothing wrong,” Elise said. She threw her arms around Amy.

Amy laughed. “I swear you get prettier by the day!”

Elise blushed as she pulled away.

The Doctor and Amy spent about a minute trying to ignore each other, before laughing and hugging.

“Mister Pond!” Amy called, “Guess who's coming for dinner?”

Rory entered the foyer. “Whoa! Not dead, then.”

“We've done that,” Amy told him.

“Oh.”

“We're about to have Christmas dinner. Joining us?” Amy asked the Doctor.

“If it's no trouble.”

“There's a place set for you and Elise,” Rory said.

“But you didn't know we were coming. Why would you set us a place?”

“Oh, because we always do. It's Christmas, you moron!” Amy snapped. “Come on,” Rory told them.

Elise followed after Amy and Rory, leaving the Doctor outside.

“So, how old are you now?” Rory asked Elise.

Elise shrugged.

“210? I think. In human years you’d call that a teenager.”

“Oh dear.”

Elise rolled her eyes and playfully slapped Rory on the arm before hugging him. “I’ve missed you Uncle Rory.”

“We’ve missed you too, Elise.”

[yuiopiklmn]

Angel Chapter 2

Word Count: 2380 words

Summary: Angel is about a girl with a secret that she doesn't even know about. Bobby Singer found her when she was only a couple months old. She has an awkward reunion with two of her childhood best friends, and then she is stuck on a hell of a ride till the end of the road.

Pairing: Unknown

Characters: Addison Singer, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Bobby Singer, and John (only mentioned)

Warnings: Language and some sexual themes

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Need to catch up:

Background:

Prologue:

Chapter 1:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sammy’s POV

“That was fun, it's been a bit since I’ve seen Addi,” I said while smiling brightly.

“No it wasn’t, what the hell was that about,” Dean said angrily as we walked back to the car, “I mean….Addison is here, she’s doing the family business, and she is looking really good doing it.” He slowly smirked while opening his door.

“Dude seriously-” I began before he cut me off.

“What, Sammy?! You know what happened and I miss our relationship and maybe she does too.”

“Dean, she wasn’t wearing the locket you got her, she barely looked at you or even acknowledged you, and you have probably moved on with more one night stands than I can count. Shouldn’t that mean something to you?” I said, inflamed, as the engine roared to life.

“What does it matter to you?” Dean questioned as we drove to town.

“While for starters I kept my promise to Bobby and protected her throughout high school and college, and I was with her while she experienced heartbreak. I know more about her than you do.”

“You know about that Da-” This time I cut him off.

“What about Dad this time, Dean? You can’t use that excuse. I know it’s bullshit that you had these plans and Dad canceled them because he wanted you to go hunting.”

“That’s not wha-”

“No Dean! I have had it with that excuse.” I was almost shouting now, ”You hurt her and that is all there is to it, okay! We will finish this hunt, get me to my interview, and life will go back to normal,” I breathed out.

“Fine, I guess.” Dean rolled his eyes and continued to drive until we reached town to interview Amy.

Meanwhile, Addison just got to her hotel and parked

Addi’s POV

“I can’t believe this! Sammy and I are going to hunt together again just like old times! I’m so excited, but what about Dean? I mean why does he have to be here in the first place?” I asked myself while sitting in the parking lot of the hotel. I pushed my hair back in frustration. I glanced at my glovebox, and opened it while pulling out the small box. Shoving it into my pocket, I quickly went inside to get out of the cold.

The hotel had a musty smell, I would do anything to sleep in my car and avoid attention if it wasn’t so cold outside. I got a key and walked to the designated room. I opened the door and sighed as I fell back onto the bed. I waited for a little bit before taking the small antique box out of my pocket and stroking it with my thumb, staring at the grooves until I collected the courage to open it. I sat up and stared at the inside. There was blood-red felt lining the inside, and on a small pillow slept my locket. I used my shirt to clean off some of the dirt and dust, and I stared at the letters engraved on the front, A + D. I flipped it in my hand to see the anti-possession symbol on the back. The locket was made of metal, and the engravings were sloppy and you could see where the knife Dean used to write, scratched the metal.

“Why did you break me so much?” I opened the locket and flipped through the 5 photo slots. The first two had family photos: me, the boys, my dad, and John Winchester. The second was taken on April 23rd. It was prom night, with me my date, none other than Dean Winchester himself. My eyes started to water as dark blue flashed in my eyes, then an angry red. I decided to put the silver locket on for the memory, texted Sam the address, and passed out on the bed.

Dream/Flashback

April 23rd, 1997, I smiled to myself as I read the circled date on the calendar. Today was the day my boyfriend of a year and a half, Dean Winchester, was going to take me to prom. He has been one of my best friends since I was 6 years old. He is two years older than me which is fine, but to some, it might seem strange that an 18-year-old is taking a 15-year-old to prom, but that’s because my birthday is in July and his birthday is in January, so it's not weird to us since I'm turning 16.

I went over to my closet and opened the door to find my glamorous dress. It was a dark blue that had some sparkle, off the shoulder sleeves, and was very long and flowy. I absentmindedly started to twiddle with my locket that he gave me for our first anniversary. I was so excited for tonight. I ran to the bathroom and made a lot of noise, apparently, because before I knew it my dad was standing in front of me with his arms crossed.

“Addison you are being quite loud and I’m trying to do research,” he said sternly.

“I know but I can’t help it, it's prom can’t you just stop researching you know everything already, and maybe help your daughter with getting ready.”

“You know I’m not the best at hair or makeup, I can’t really help you.”

“I know dad, but there are other things to do, like get the boutonniere for Dean maybe.”

“Okay I’ll do it, I'll be back in a few, I should get a navy one right.”

“It’s more cobalt/ royal blue.”

“Okay, I’ll go get your royal blue flowers, ya idjit.”

“I’m not the idjit here, I'm the one that knows the difference between blues.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I’ll go and get your flower thing.” He muttered as he walked back down the stairs.

While he was gone I was able to finish my makeup, which was quite neutral, nothing too special, and started to curl my hair. Soon I heard the door open and close and Bobby yelled up to me that he was home with the boutonniere. I finished my hair, and ran back over to my room, tripping on the way over to put on my dress. I was struggling with my silver heels as I heard the doorbell ring. Then I heard HIM. Dean, the man I am mesmerized by, while he was talking to Bobby. I smiled widely as I walked to the top of the stairs. I heard a conversation going on below about a promise to keep me safe or whatever. I was too excited to be bothered by the details. I slowly descended down the steps, watching my feet so that I wouldn’t fall. Right, when I got off the stairs and looked up I was met with the forest green eyes that I love more than the world itself. We both smiled at each other while inching closer.

“You look amazing Addi, you truly are one of a kind.” He said with an even bigger smile. His voice cracked a bit like he didn’t know if he should say it or not in front of my dad.

I blushed while I said, “You look so...” I looked at Bobby scared that I might get in trouble, but he nodded showing he didn’t care, “so handsome Dean I could just kiss you right now.”

“What’s holding you back?” He said with a smirk on his face.

“My dad,” I whispered to him as my eyes glanced in my dad’s direction. He heard me, as clear as day, and turned to face the wall instead while letting out a disappointed sigh. We kissed, and it was one of my favorites so far. The love and excitement and-the...the moment was cut off with a cough from Bobby saying that was enough of that. We took pictures and I put on Dean’s boutonniere while he put on my corsage. As we were about to walk out the door I heard my dad call both of our names. We spun around to face him.

“What’s the plan kiddos because you have a curfew, Addison Singer?” He sounded mad like he didn’t want us to do anything which I doubt we would, buuuut we might.

“Well the dance itself starts at 8:30 pm, Bobby, and I was thinking of going to dinner, that's why I’m picking her up at 5 pm so that we can eat. I know her curfew is 11 pm sharp and I promise not to be late, and finally, the dance ends at 10:45 pm.” Dean said in a tone that shows that he must’ve practiced this, he clearly planned every detail including this speech.

“All I say is that you are back here either before 11 or at 11 on the dot. One more thing NO FUNNY BUSINESS Winchester, or you are dead! Hunted and killed by me because that is my daughter. It's a stretch enough that I’m letting you date her and take her to your prom, but I trust your dad and your family. Don’t mess this up, boy.” I looked at my dad pissed but scared before turning my head to Dean.

“Yes sir, no killing will be necessary.” He stood firm and then relaxed as he saw my face while he turned to face me. He linked his arm with mine and we walked out the door. Right when the door was closed I quickly said,

“Sorry about dad, he is super overprotective.” I facepalmed while he answered,

“I know, and don’t worry about it. I planned this all in my head.”

“I don’t think you planned the night correctly because the dance ends at 10pm.”

“I know I have stuff planned, sweetheart don’t worry about it.” I blushed at the nickname while looking down and then as I looked up I saw the impala.

“Your dad is letting you take Baby!” There was excitement in my voice.

“Of course babe she is my car now, my dad took another car on his little hunting trip.”

I got excited and ran to the door, but Dean beat our little race, that I didn’t know we were having, so that he could open the door for me. I got in while he closed the door and then he got into the driver seat. He put in our mixtape that had all of our favorite songs on it, and we just jammed all the way to the diner. Once we got there, Dean said his name for the reservation he had, and we got seated. Dean was hit on by the waiter and he completely ignored it while we continued eating. We finished eating and then left to get to prom since it was about to start.

When we got there, there was a long line to get in because of the ticket situation, but it went by fast and soon enough we got in. We got there and went to the dance floor and partied like animals. It was a magical night of laughter, smiles, slow dances, and a few kisses here and there. I absolutely loved it, but the night at the dance came to an end since we left early. Dean had other plans and I could tell by the look in his eye. The look he has had since the moment we started dating, the look he had the moment I walked down those stairs, the look he has had every time we are together. The look of lust. I may not know where we are going, but I know what we are doing.

TIME SKIP

We got to a little spot near nothing really except a couple trees. A song on the mixtape played and it was the very last song, a song we never got to. Things got heated pretty fast and let's just say that backseat is amazing in more ways than one, and Dean...DAMN SON!!!! He is truly something special. This was mine, as well as his, first time. I was shocked when he told me that because he is good. It is only 10:30 and we are back on the road. He never told me why, but I feel like something more was supposed to happen like there was more to this night. Before I knew it we were back at my house. We both went inside, Bobby wasn't around and I needed to freshen up, so that Bobby doesn’t get suspicious.

I ran upstairs and quickly went into my room, while tripping of course, and sprayed on some perfume while fixing my hair. Since I was upstairs I took off my shoes. While I was slipping off the second one I heard a familiar engine roar to life. I looked out my window and saw Baby’s headlights on. I was confused so I ran back downstairs and saw Sammy on the couch doing homework.

“Sammy? What are you doing here, and where is Dean?”

“He left with dad,” he went silent before looking up at me, “Did he not tell you he was leaving?”

“No he didn’t, but it's okay he will be back right?”

“I think so, but when dad goes away he isn’t back for a bit.”

I gave a fake smile, and I turned to go back upstairs before I heard Sammy say, “Don’t worry Addi, I will always be here no matter what, I promise you, just like we promised.”

I nodded while I realized what the boys promised to my dad at the beginning of the night, well what Dean promised clearly Sam gave his promise recently. I slowly made my way back up the stairs, and I heard Bobby’s voice say my name faintly. I was clenching my locket as I walked into the bathroom. I looked in the mirror and realized I was crying. I wiped my tears away, even though more kept coming. I whispered to myself, “Always and forever more like never.” I washed my face and changed out of my dress and into pajamas. I went into the covers and hid my head while holding my locket and crying silently to myself. There may be two Winchester brothers but only one knows how to keep a promise.

A/N: Still trying to work out a posting schedule. My editor is in AP classes, so she hasn’t had a lot of time to edit, so now I have to edit all of it. Sorry if this chapter seemed long. I changed the ending a bit from my original idea. I hope you liked it and I can’t wait to edit more since I have the next couple chapters written. I just have to edit them now. See you in the next chapter my bumblebees. Buh-bye!!!