#A Broken Clock Never Boils

[jolieeason]

November 2022 Wrap UP

November 2022 Wrap UP

Here is what I read/posted in November. As always, let me know if you have read any of these books and (if you did) what you thought of them. Books I Read: No review No review No Review No Review Review coming December 1st Review coming December 27th, 2022 No Review Review coming January 3rd, 2023 Review coming January 10th Review coming December 9th No Review No Review No…

[synthetickitsune]

Petty ✧ h.js

Pairing: Joshua Hong x gn!reader Genre: angst/fluff Summary: Joshua can be a bit petty when he's tired and feels wronged. Even if he's at fault all along. Word count: 2.3k A/N: please get me out of here, i've been in shua brainrot since january and this is once again @hanniedream's fault >:(

Joshua has never hated your bedroom more than he hates it at this moment.

The room is too big. The walls are the wrong color. The windows are too big and it feels like the whole world can see him and laugh at him. The bedroom should be the only room in your house. It wouldn’t be so empty then.

The bed is too big to be sleeping in it alone. It’s cold. The sheets feel like ice around him, no matter how tightly he wraps himself in them, and his arms are empty even though your scent lingers on your pillow. He won’t be as pitiful as hugging it to sleep, he refuses. 

Where are you anyway? 

Pout pulls on his lips without his permission as he strains his ears but he can’t hear a single sound. He checks the clock again, then checks one more time that he’s not seeing wrong. You should be here by now. He accounted for everything - how long your night routine takes, a little snack if you felt like it, the time you’d need to be away from him after the fight, the time you’d waste on thinking whether you should hang onto the resentment or not. You should be here already. You should’ve been here ages ago. So where are you?

It goes against his pride that he gets up and makes his way to the living room where he expects you’d be sulking. And you are there - sleeping soundly.

He huffs in disbelief, hands on his hips as he watches you sleep while he can’t even keep his eyes closed. Does he mean nothing to you? How can you sleep without him?

He has half a mind to wake you up - he walks up to you and leans down, still undecided whether he should do it. What would he say? He can’t admit he can’t sleep without you, so he’d just look like a dick. Besides, you sleeping here means you’re still upset, so you wouldn’t come to bed anyway. Then he notices the dried tears in the corner of your eyes. 

He frowns, any thoughts of waking you up gone from his head. Were you actually mad? The argument wasn’t long or, in his eyes, that big of a deal. True, he was also quite exhausted, so it’s kind of foggy and he knows he was a bit too harsh. He also admits he was in the wrong, a fact he realized during the first two hours of his tossing and turning when he remembered that the events happened differently from what he initially thought. But it wasn’t a big deal anyway… You don’t usually cry over petty arguments. And he knows better than to hope for any sleep now.

Joshua leaves for the bedroom quietly, sighing once he lies down in bed. The pout tugs on his lips again. He feels wronged too. You could’ve just told him instead of immediately getting defensive and calling him wrong when he just didn’t remember at the moment. Why would you cry? Was he really that mean? He doesn’t think he was. He tries to sleep, but over what remains of the night, he can’t get more than a couple minutes of sleep at the time.

Safe to say it didn’t exactly help his sour mood that he didn’t rest at all. As soon as he decides to get up for the day, he struts into the kitchen and starts on boiling the water for his coffee and taking out things to prepare himself breakfast.

“What the fuck, Joshua?” you groan from the adjacent room, voice dripping with annoyance and hostility. Of course the noise would wake you up. And now he can’t exactly explain why he thought he’d get his usual morning greeting - well he didn’t think at all, but now that the routine is broken and not one nice word is spoken to him, he pauses. He swallows uneasily thinking of how it usually goes - waking up with you in his arms or you hovering above him, wishing him a good morning with the sweetest kisses. Not this.

He snaps out of his, his pettiness wavering a little, but not enough. He was in the wrong, but you could’ve explained that to him more yesterday. Not like he was in a state of mind to listen to you, but you could’ve tried… He’s too tired for this.

So he keeps doing his thing, taking out the vegetables to cut. He notices you disappearing into the bedroom, to change and freshen up he supposes. It doesn’t feel great to have you walk away from him without another word.

He’s cutting vegetables when you return. At this point he doesn’t expect much, but he also doesn’t expect you to walk straight past him, barely stop the cupboard door from hitting his head when you take out your mug. He also feels something die inside him when you pour the boiling water into only one mug, making a drink for yourself despite there being enough water for both of you.

His focus is more on you than the knife in his hand, which is not the safest thing when he’s trying to cut the carrot, but he needs to be ready and catch every word you’ll say. Because you need to say something, right? Wrong, apparently. You’re just sitting there sipping your coffee and scrolling on your phone without paying any attention to him. Does he not matter to you?

He wants to get angry, wants to heave a long and angry sigh, slam the knife down and confront you - but that’s not him. It does cross his mind, he just can’t do it. It’d scare you and it’d make him feel like one of those stereotypical angry husbands and that’s the exact opposite of what he wants. Opposite of what he should do if he wants to ever have the chance to call himself your husband.

He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. This situation was ridiculous. He can’t go another day without a proper sleep and he doesn’t think he can get through breakfast with you ignoring him. Was Joshua’s pride really more important than you? No. Of course not. Especially not when it was all so stupid and ultimately his fault. 

“I was wrong,” he sighs, he finally puts the knife down before he can cut his finger off, “I’m sorry.”

He turns around, and after what feels like eternity you’re looking at him. You sigh too, rubbing your eyes. Properly seeing you now, he notices you must’ve had a restless night just like him. It makes the last remains of his pettiness dissipate. He opens his arms cautiously, hoping, wishing… You get up and hug him back, let him hold you as he wraps his arm around your middle and cradles your head with the other one. Finally he feels like he can breathe.

“I’m glad you apologized,” you rub his back, and fortunately you don’t flinch away when he kisses the side of your head. He hums sheepishly, squeezing you a little tighter. “I was really frustrated with you. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, you could’ve already apologized yesterday.”

“I know,” he acknowledges. Looking back, he shouldn’t have brought out the issue out of nowhere in the first place. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I wasn’t mad, just frustrated,” you repeat, “It’s fine now.”

He nods, letting you go just enough that he can kiss you properly. His morning feels much better immediately. You smile at him and he’s wondering why would he ever do anything to threaten that smile. He doesn’t want to let you go now that he has you back in his arms, but he’s hungry and he thinks you must be too. “I’ll make breakfast for us, hm?”

You free yourself from his embrace rather than him allowing you to pull away. His reluctance shows in his hands taking hold of yours and bringing them to his lips, lingering. You give him a reassuring smile and only then does he let go. 

What you notice before going back to your chair, before moving from the spot, is Joshua looking at your cup on the table in a way that you can only describe as a puppy watching his favorite toy spinning in the washer. You don’t think he noticed you saw, or that he meant for you to see at all, and it takes a lot not to start laughing. It does give you some satisfaction, though, to know that the argument and his own mistake didn’t leave him unaffected. His shoulders are still slumping and he looks so down you’d think you didn’t make up already. 

“Joshua?” you call his name and he quickly turns his head towards you as soon as he puts the knife down again. You chuckle and rest your head on his shoulder. “Should I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Yes please, thank you,” he beams at you, eyes turning into crescents when you kiss his cheek.

You pull out a mug, conscious of his eyes following your every movement. Something about your choice of the piece of ceramics must be not up to his standards if his displeased grunt is any indication. However when you look at him, he only gives you a small smile.

“What’s wrong?” you cross your arms over your chest. He grows timid, looking away. You roll your eyes. You’re almost sure you’re being played for attention, but you will give him the benefit of a doubt this time because he seemed genuinely sorry for the fight. It’s cute how he melts into you when you hug him from behind, your hands resting on his stomach. 

“What about the matching ones we got for Christmas instead?” he mumbles almost too quiet for you to hear.

“I already have my own cup though,” you frown.

“You need to make a new one,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world

“Huh?”

“We’re gonna restart this morning,” he explains calmly, “I won’t be an asshole and we’ll have a nice breakfast together with our cute matching cups.”

“You called them cringy before.”

“Don’t ruin the vision,” he warns playfully. You hold his gaze, hoping he’ll cave but he doesn’t. You break first.

“What am I supposed to do with the other cup though?” you laugh at your ridiculous boyfriend, but he’s not done being unreasonable.

“Bring it to me,” his tone is suspicious, so you have no idea why you listen. You get to watch as he downs the rest of your morning drink in a few long gulps and puts the cup in a sink. “There, problem solved.”

“Joshua Hong, you’re insane,” you sigh. You’re smiling though - so it’s his win anyway. He won and now he’ll get to watch you boil more water and prepare coffee for both of you, because you need to match one hundred percent of course. It’s still not the safest to cut vegetables when he’s so distracted but his fragile heart is practically jumping off his chest when you take out the very cheesy matching Christmas cups and set them down. “Stop staring.”

“I need to make sure you’re doing it right,” he teases. He’s happy that everything is fine, happy that his morning returned to normal and happy that-

“Do you think I can’t?” you quirk a brow at him, pausing the preparations. 

He swallows and nearly trips over his over feet closing the distance between you and cupping your face in his hands. 

“No, baby, I’m so sorry,” he frowns, kissing your forehead and lingering there, waiting for your verdict. He hears you sigh and his chest feels thigh.

“You’re so cute, Shua,” there’s a smile in your voice and his heart skips a beat when he hears his nickname, “I’m not upset, I’m just playing with you.”

“Don’t do this to me,” he whines, burying his face into your shoulder. His arms wrap around you and you’re stuck between his body and the counter, trapped in his hug. All you can do is hug him back and press some kisses to his neck.

“I’m sorry, baby,” you smile, “How about I finish the coffee, hm? Then I can hug you and cling to you to make up for it.”

“I made you upset first,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes at his sudden self-awareness. He pulls away to look at you, a slight pout on his lips. “But you took advantage of that. I think I deserve a kiss as well.”

You should’ve known it was all a manipulation tactic.

But knowing or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you kiss him and smile against his lips as you do when you feel him smile too. He doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill, until he leaves you breathless and chasing after his lips. 

“I missed you,” he whispers, coming back for just one more kiss, “Hurry up with the coffee.”

You should scold him. You should remind him that he is the reason why your morning is so messy.

But you don’t. 

Instead you do exactly as he told you and enjoy having him close again once the coffee is done. And you enjoy as Joshua feeds you the first piece of breakfast for a taste test, and you enjoy him pulling out a chair for you, bringing you your plate, and holding your hand the entire time you eat.

Most of all you enjoy his warm embrace when you lay down for a nap that won’t make up for the cold and lonely night, but that feels heavenly nonetheless.

[schrodingerspsycho]

Another Shot - Chapter 2

Pairing - Sam Carpenter x Reader

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol, addiction, weed

Word Count - 5.1k

Summary - (Some of) the truth comes out. Tensions rise between you and Sam.

Chapter 1

Help Palestine by clicking this link!🇵🇸

You couldn’t sleep. Of course, you couldn’t. Sam Carpenter was in New York City.

All the memories you’d tried so hard to repress had come flooding back in full force, washing over you like a tidal wave. It hurt more than you would’ve imagined. And that fucking look in her eyes. As if she had any right to be angry with you. It made your blood boil. God, you wished you could hate her.

But you couldn’t. Yes, the memories were bitter, but they were still oh-so-sweet. You wanted nothing more than to crawl back to that better time when she was by your side and you were happy, uncaring of how the broken glass cut your hands and knees along the way. Then you remembered that fucking face, and you knew you couldn’t do that either.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, which still ached from crying, and rolled over to stare at the clock. It was four in the morning. You wanted a drink. How ironic, Sam made you want to drink.

Instead, you opted for the one vice you still allowed yourself; weed. You stepped onto the balcony as you lit up, pulling your blanket tight around your shoulders. Just a few hits to help you sleep, you told yourself. The high would pass before your shift started. And just this once, you let that be a lie.

Luckily, you had an afternoon shift, and the weed was completely out of your system by the time you clocked in. Not that anyone would have cared, you wouldn’t be the first person to show up to work high. But you didn’t want to risk it. You couldn’t lose this job. So you made an effort to push Sam far from your mind and man the counter with a smile on your face. And it would’ve worked too, if it weren’t for her meddling little sister.

“Hey, Tara!” you smiled when she walked in. She waved back, clearly distracted. You took no notice, turning back to the lobby to go about your business. But Tara stepped out in front of you, blocking your path and nearly making you drop the menus you were carrying. “Shit! What the hell, dude? Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“I want to know what happened,” she said, ignoring you. “Sam wouldn’t tell me.”

You stared at her. “Are you serious? I told you to drop it.”

“You didn’t really think that was going to stop me, did you?”

You sighed. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or maybe you were secretly dying to unload all the memories clogging your brain. And talking about your feelings was supposed to help, right? “If I tell you, you can never bring this up again, got it?”

“Got it.” She crossed her finger over her heart, excitement shining in her eyes. You hoped she wouldn’t regret asking for the truth.

“If you can get Jay to give us our breaks at the same time, I’ll tell you then.”

Tara nodded and rushed off to find your manager, finally leaving you in peace. Maybe after this, you would finally be able to put it all behind you. And if Sam didn’t want Tara to know… then perhaps you could relive it after all. Sure, it was petty. But after everything she’d put you through, you deserved to be a little petty.

Jay must’ve been in a good mood because he granted Tara’s request. She didn’t mention her sister again for the first half of the shift, choosing instead to gush about how Chad had surprised her by taking her out for breakfast that morning. You listened eagerly, glad to finally put a face to the name you’d heard so many times.

“He’s going to come in to have lunch with me tomorrow,” she smiled. “Are you working the morning shift? I want you to actually meet him. I think you’d get along.”

“Yeah, I’m working a double tomorrow. I look forward to it.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed, and you grinned back at her. She’d only been working at the diner for two weeks, and she’d already become one of your best friends. You hadn’t grown so close with someone so quickly since… well, you knew where she got her charm.

Your break time seemed to arrive faster than ever, and you steeled yourself for your unorthodox therapy session as you made your sandwich. Tara was watching you like a hawk as if she expected you to run away.

“You sure you wanna do this?” you asked her. “Last chance to change your mind.”

“You have to know that only makes me more desperate to hear this story.”

“Fine,” you sighed. You led her into the break room and shut the door, making sure no one would overhear. She gazed up at you, her eyes wide and serious now as you sat next to her on the couch.

“Take your time,” she said softly. You nodded in appreciation, and with a deep, shuddering breath, you began.

“We met through a Facebook group four years ago. It was for young people in Modesto who were trying to get sober. Like a support group, but without the stuffiness of AA.”

“Wait, when you say sober, you mean-”

“Alcoholics,” you nodded, a grim look on your face. “Some people were addicted to other things too, and we did what we could to help. Mostly cigarettes, like your sister. She’d weaned herself off the harder drugs by that point, thankfully. We would have meetings in coffee shops and cafes, and sometimes people would host at their apartments during the week. Then we would all go out to clubs or parties together on the weekend.”

Tara stared at you, bewildered. “What? How is that helpful?”

“It wasn’t. The idea was that we would do all our drinking in one night and stay sober the rest of the week, but there weren’t any professionals involved. Most people at least thought they wanted to get sober, but we all wanted to drink more. It was still better than getting hammered every night, but not by too much.” You swallowed, and your hands started fidgeting; one of your nervous habits. You hadn’t spoken this much about your alcohol problems in a long time. “Anyway, that’s how we met. I don’t remember which one of us joined the group first, it’s been such a long time. I mean, your sister was still using a fake ID to get booze back then!” You chuckled at the memory. “But we became friends pretty quickly. Then we realized our apartments were only a neighborhood away from each other, so we started going to meetings together. And after about a year of being friends, we started- well…”

“You started dating?”

You let out a hollow laugh. “God, no. She never would’ve made a commitment like that. She was kind of infamous for it, actually.” You took a swig of your soda, hoping to dowse the heat you felt rising in your cheeks. “But we were probably the closest thing to it. We were together just about every other night, we knew each other better than anyone, she knew I wasn’t seeing anyone else and after a while, she stopped seeing other people too. Pretty much all we would’ve had to do was say the words. But that was the problem. She never wanted to talk about anything real. Her past, her feelings, our relationship, nothing. I knew who she was, but I didn’t know anything about her. And believe me, when you drink with someone for that long, you get to know them really well. She knew how I felt about her, how much I cared for her, and she just wouldn’t reciprocate. But I told myself that being with her was enough. And maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. I don’t even remember.”

“Then what happened?” Tara asked, her voice small.

“About a year into us being… whatever we were, there was… an incident. We went out together, without the group, to a house party. That I invited her to. And we were having fun, y’know, drinking, dancing, just having a grand ol’ time. Then she asked me to go to the bar to get her another shot.” You ran your hand through your hair to try to quell the agitation bristling in your chest. “It took me two minutes to push through the crowd, get the drinks, and come back. Two minutes. But when I came back, she was… she was…” Angry tears welled up in your eyes, and you turned away from Tara. You hated that it still had such a hold on you, even after all this time.

Tara laid a shaking hand on your back and you let out a strangled sob. Why was this so fucking hard? You felt like you were back there, the pounding of your heart drowning out the loud music, your vision blurring, the taste of vodka burning your throat, and the feel of your stomach dropping down to hell.

“She was making out with someone else,” you croaked. Tara’s hand stilled, and from the corner of your eye, you saw her mouth open in a silent gasp. “It was some- some guy. Just a random, boring-ass guy. She didn’t even know his name. And when I asked her what the hell she was doing, she laughed. Like it was all just some big fucking joke.” Your fists were clenched, and you could feel your fingernails digging into your palms. Then the tears finally began to fall. “She told me we were nothing. That I meant nothing.”

“I… I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Tara breathed. You leaned back against the couch and wiped your eyes, chuckling in spite of yourself.

“We were both drunk and angry, so what happened next is kind of a blur. But we started shouting at each other, and I think I was crying. I don’t know. Then she slapped the drink out of my hand and spat in my face.”

“She what?” Tara uttered, appalled. You laughed again. It was a sinister sound, but Tara didn’t seem to notice and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“That was actually the most normal thing she did that night,” you said, to Tara’s growing horror. “She’s an aggressive drunk, and it was far from the first time she’d spat at me. But she’d never done it as an insult before.”

“That’s disgusting,” Tara said. You finally turned to look at her.

“I want you to know, I’m not trying to make you think badly of your sister or anything. I think it’s great that you’re talking again, and I would never do anything to hurt your relationship. I’m just telling you my side of the story.”

“I know,” Tara assured you. “Thank you.”

You shook your head. “I’m not even upset that she didn’t feel the same way. I just wanted her to be happy, and we weren’t even together. But she just had to let me down in the cruelest way possible. She knew how much she was hurting me, and she did it anyway. With a smile on her face.”

“That’s fucking bullshit,” Tara grumbled, and you gave her a brief smile. “So what happened after that?”

“Well, I went home, and the next day I found out she had blocked me on everything. She even left the Facebook group. And the next thing I know, I hear she’s calling this guy her boyfriend and switched to a new shitty, minimum-wage job so she could work with him. She led me on for a whole year, then committed to him in one night. I lost my partner and my best friend at the same time. In two fucking minutes.”

You sat in silence for several moments, the conversation weighing heavily on both of you. When Tara finally spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.

“Thank you for telling me all of this. I know it wasn’t easy for you to relive it. I’m sorry she did that to you, and I’m sorry that I’ve brought it all back-”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you insisted. “She’s your sister, and you can’t help that I have a history with her. What happened with us- whatever happens with us- none of it is your fault.” She nodded, but the look in her eyes told you she didn’t believe it. “She told me about you, y’know.”

“She did?”

“Oh, yeah. I could never get her to talk about herself, but if you got enough alcohol in her, she wouldn’t shut up about her baby sister.” You grinned at Tara, and she smiled back. “You’re exactly the way she described you.”

“I’m gonna assume that’s a compliment,” she chuckled. Then her expression turned serious. “I really am sorry that she did that to you, Y/N. It’s… it’s horrible. But I can promise you, Sam’s changed. She’s sober now, and she’s reliable. She’s done so much work to be a better person. She would never do something like that now.”

You gave Tara a sad smile. “I’m happy to hear that, I really am. But I’m going to need her to prove that to me herself.”

“C’mon, Mindy, let’s go.”

“Can’t we just stay in our rooms? We won’t interrupt-”

“No.”

“She said she’d tell us later, let’s just give them some space.”

“Fine.”

Sam put down her book. The twins had been quietly doing their homework on the couch for the last hour, giving her a much-needed respite after the back-to-back six-hour shifts she’d worked at her two jobs today. But now their hushed voices roused her, drawing her from her room in time to see Tara ushering them out the door. “Hey, how was work?” she asked nervously. She didn’t like the serious look on Tara’s face.

“It was fine,” she said with a sigh. “We need to talk, Sam.”

Sam felt her heart rate spike, and her mouth went dry as her palms started to sweat. Truthfully, hearing those words from Tara was more terrifying than the five Ghostfaces she’d faced. She nodded numbly and took a seat at the kitchen table, following Tara’s lead.

“Y/N told me what happened between you two,” Tara began, and Sam’s breath hitched. She knew she should’ve expected this, but it caught her off guard all the same. “I don’t believe they would lie to me, but I have to ask… did you really cheat on them? After leading them on for a year?”

“Yes. I did.” Sam felt like crying. Having you as a reminder of her mistakes was bad enough, but now Tara was judging her too. She wanted to beg you both for forgiveness, but she knew she didn’t deserve it.

“Jesus, Sam,” Tara groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “That’s really shitty. Do you know how broken up Y/N still is about it?”

“I know. I’m so sorry, I-”

“I’m not mad at you, Sam.”

“You’re… you’re not?”

“No,” Tara said with a small smile. “I’ve forgiven you for worse. And I know you’ve changed. We don’t need to talk about what happened.”

“Then what do you want to talk about?”

Tara grinned. “Do you still love them?”

“What?” Sam stared at her, shocked. “Who-who said anything about love?”

“Okay, fine. Do you still like them?” she corrected, rolling her eyes.

Sam gaped at her as her cheeks started to burn. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. Y/N doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I need to respect that.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Did you see how they looked at me?” she deflected, beginning to sound choked up. “They hate me. And they have every right to.”

“They don’t hate you, Sam,” Tara said kindly, placing a comforting hand over her own. “Trust me. Yes, they’re hurt. Really hurt. But they wouldn’t be if they had moved on.”

“Or if I hadn’t cheated on them and treated them like shit,” Sam mumbled. She leaned against the table and put her head in her hand. Just like mom.

“I think you were wrong,” Tara said, ignoring her. “There is something you can do about it now.”

“Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

“You can apologize!” she smiled.

“You don’t really think it’s that simple, do you?” Sam scoffed. “Apologizing doesn’t just make things go away, Tara. Not something like this. It won’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it will,” she said softly. “It’ll show them that you’ve changed and that you know it was wrong to cheat on them. It’ll let them know that you’ll be a better person if you start talking again. I mean, sure, it’s not gonna fix everything right away, but it would be a start.”

Sam shook her head. “That’s not enough. It wouldn’t be enough.”

Tara sighed. “Will you at least answer my question?”

“What question?”

“Do you still have feelings for Y/N?”

Sam stood up abruptly and turned away from Tara. She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. “Where did you send the twins off to?”

“Seriously, Sam? Are you really just going to ignore me?”

“I was thinking I could make spaghetti for dinner, does that sound good?”

Tara glared at her incredulously. “You are unbelievable,” she said, standing up and stomping toward her room. She slammed the door, and Sam stared at it for a long moment. Despite everything, Tara was an optimist, and Sam admired her for it. But two little words wouldn’t mean anything in the face of what she’d done to you. No matter how much she wished it could.

After telling Tara the truth, the rest of your shift had felt awkward, with both of you staying uncharacteristically silent when you weren’t talking to customers. But luckily, everything was back to normal the next morning. You had teased her for being a few minutes late, she teased you for always arriving early, and you passed the time by joking around like you always did. She once again asked Jay if you could take your breaks together, and he once again obliged.

“Dang, he must really like you,” you smiled at her. “He never would’ve said yes if I asked him.”

She shrugged. “I’m very likable.”

“Yeah, you are. Little manager’s pet.”

“Maybe I’ll ask him not to give you a break at all.”

“What, am I suddenly not good enough to meet your boyfriend?”

“No, I’m excited for you to meet him,” she grinned. “He’s excited to meet you, too.”

“Then it sounds like we’re all excited. It’s going to be a very exciting lunch break.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, nudging you playfully as she went to make another pot of coffee. Usually, it was all the customers ordered at this time of day, which made the morning shifts more bearable. You were able to hang out and talk with each other while they finished their nearly forgotten homework and nursed their hangovers, frying up some eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns every now and then. It made the time fly, and soon Jay was calling you and Tara to go on break.

Chad arrived just as you finished making your food, announced by Tara’s squeal of delight. She ran to him and leapt into his arms, and he spun her around gleefully. The few customers in the lobby didn’t even look up from their phones.

“Y/N, get over here! I want you to actually meet Chad!” Tara called, beckoning you with her hand. You smiled and headed over, your tray of food in hand.

“Shouldn’t you let him order first?”

“No, it’s fine. He doesn’t need to eat,” she smirked. He gave her a look of feigned offense.

“Excuse you, I’m very hungry. I ate a very light breakfast so I would have room for an amazing lunch made by my beautiful girlfriend.”

“I’m not gonna make your food, I’m on break,” she said, turning to face him. “That was really stupid of you to not eat.”

“Well, then what did I come here for?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“You’re breaking my heart, you know that, Tara? You’re breaking your boyfriend’s heart.”

“Oh, please, you eat enough of my cooking at home,” she grinned, leaning in closer.

“Anyway, I’m Chad! It’s nice to meet you,” he smiled, looking up quickly when he remembered you were there. Tara blushed.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N. Tara’s told me a lot about you.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“Mostly.”

He grinned. “Well, I’m going to go order some food made by a stranger, and then I’ll join you.”

Tara stuck her tongue out at him as he left, and you followed her to the table where she had set her food. “Sorry about that,” she said sheepishly as you sat down.

“Don’t worry about it. You two are adorable.”

“Thanks,” she smiled.

After a few moments of eating in silence, Chad joined you once again. “Alright, where were we?” he asked, sliding into the booth next to Tara. You looked at his tray and smirked at her. He’d ordered exactly what she’d said he would.

“You were about to tell me about yourself,” you prompted. He smiled.

“Well, I’m Tara’s amazing boyfriend who’s known her since we were five, I’m studying sports medicine at Blackmore, I was the offensive lineman on my high school football team, Mindy is my twin sister, and my favorite Pokémon is Meganium. What else do you want to know?”

You laughed and Tara raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, that’s certainly an introduction,” you remarked.

“What? Those are important things to know about me!”

“They sure are, babe. You’re doing great,” Tara said, patting his arm.

“And you said you go to NYU, right? What are you studying?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t start until next year, but I’m going to study photography. I actually can’t wait to start classes, I’ve been saving up for it for years.”

“That’s really cool! What kind of photography do you do?”

“I want to study different kinds, but I love taking pictures of little moments in regular life. Like the little things that no one notices, the things that tell stories. Candid photography, I guess.”

“That sounds really interesting! I’d love to see some of your photos sometime.”

“Thanks! Yeah, Tara’s been wanting me to show her my portfolio.”

“And yet you keep denying me!” she accused.

“I’ve told you, they don’t look good on my tiny phone screen!” you replied. “I can’t exactly bring my laptop to work, can I?”

“I’m sure we can figure out a time when we can all see your amazing pictures,” Chad said, putting his arm around Tara.

“Yeah, maybe,” you mumbled, blushing a little at the praise. “It’s cool that you were able to go to the same college. And your sister, too. That must be really fun for you guys.”

“Yeah, we’re really lucky we found a place that has a good sports medicine program for me, a poli-sci program for Tara, and a film program for Mindy. Although, we probably would’ve gone to the same school no matter what. It’s important that we stick together. After all, we can’t split up-”

“Do not say it,” Tara scolded him.

“-the Core Four!”

Tara punched him in the chest and he swooped down to kiss her cheek.

“What is the Core Four?” you asked.

“Me, Tara, Mindy, and Sam! It’s what we call our little squad.”

“It’s what you call us,” Tara retorted. “He comes up with these stupid nicknames and doesn’t listen to us when we tell him they’re terrible.”

“Oh, c’mon, you secretly love my nicknames. Don’t you, Taradactyl?”

She looked appalled. “Yeah, that’s an immediate no.”

“But I thought you liked that one!”

“I absolutely do not. Get away from me.”

“Whatever. You like Core Four. You’ve said it.”

“I have not!”

“Yes you did, Sam told me,” he said smugly.

“Lies and slander.”

He stole one of her fries and she tried to shove him out of the booth, a goofy grin on her face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at their antics.

“You two are very entertaining,” you commented.

“Are you making fun of us?” Tara demanded, still grinning.

You put your hands up in surrender. “Not at all. Having a similar sense of humor is important in a relationship. You two seem perfect for each other.”

“Why, thank you, Y/N. I’m glad someone thinks so,” Chad said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If you thought we were perfect for each other, then you would support my nicknames.”

“Oh, shut up,” she groaned, leaning back against him. He kissed the top of her head before turning back to you.

“Speaking of relationships, are you seeing anyone?”

“Nope,” you smiled. “I only moved here a couple of months ago, so I haven’t really had time to meet anybody.”

“Then we need to get on that!” he exclaimed. “We don’t want you to be lonely! I’m pretty sure we know someone your age who you’d get along with. What are you, twenty-four?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m twenty-five, and it’s rude to ask.”

“You’re absolutely right, it is rude. I’m sorry. But you know what, Tara’s sister is right around your age, and she’s single too! Her name is Sam, she’s the absolute coolest, and- hey, didn’t you say you knew her already?”

You shot Tara a look of disbelief, but she avoided your gaze. “I do know her. I was just talking to Tara about her yesterday. And you know what, I just remembered that Sam once showed me some of her baby pictures.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, she wouldn’t stop talking about you,” you said pointedly. “It’s all coming back to me now. Little baby Tara… in the bathtub…”

“Okay, okay! We’ll stop talking about Sam!” Tara cried, her face bright red. You smirked at her.

Shouldn’t have broken your promise, you thought. At least she had the decency to look guilty.

The conversation carried on normally after that, with you and Chad discussing your favorite action movies and comic books. Tara was right, you did get along well. As it turned out, he had already seen the movie you were looking forward to seeing this weekend on your rare Saturday off. Tara had to quiet him before he accidentally spoiled it in his excitement, but he gave it a rave review. It was enough to distract you from the fact that Sam was apparently single again, at least for a little while. And when Jay called you back to work and you bid your goodbyes to Chad, you decided that it had indeed been a very exciting lunch break.

Sam found herself spending her Saturday off at the movies. She hadn’t been to a theater in months for obvious reasons, but Tara knew she wanted to see the new comedy that came out this weekend and convinced her to go. She was anxious like she always was when she was out in public, but she was glad to be spending some quality time with her sister. Saturday matinees used to be their thing, and Tara still bounced on her heels while she waited for her popcorn like she did when she was little.

But something seemed off with her as they walked toward the theater. She kept glancing behind her as if she was looking for something. But before Sam could ask her what was wrong, Tara spun around and slammed into her.

“I think the popcorn needs more- fuck!”

Sam looked down to see the front of her hoodie covered in Tara’s soda.

“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, Sam!”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “It was an accident, I’ll be fine. At least it didn’t get on my jeans.”

“Here, I’ll take the popcorn and save our seats. You go get some napkins and clean yourself up,” she said, gazing up at her apologetically. Sam nodded and handed her the bucket.

She pulled the sticky hoodie over her head as she walked, thankful that she had worn a tank top underneath it. And the theater still had the heat on despite the warming weather outside, so she wouldn’t be cold. It was still shaping up to be a pretty good day.

But before she could reach for the napkins, a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you said as you looked up from your freshly buttered popcorn.

“Y/N.”

“Sam.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see a fucking movie, obviously,” you hissed. Sam rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“I should’ve known,” she mumbled, her gaze drifting to where Tara was spying on you from around the corner. Your eyes widened in realization.

“Dammit! That sneaky little- I never should’ve told her my weekend plans.”

“What the fuck did you just say about my sister?”

“Oh, you know damn well this isn’t about Tara! This is about us, and what you did- oh my god!” You had finally turned to look at her, and your eyes immediately went to her arms. Not because her biceps were even more muscular than you remembered, but because of the long, raised scars on her right shoulder and collarbone. Any anger you had been feeling dissipated, replaced with worry and a deep-seated need to protect. “What happened?” you asked softly, instinctively reaching out to comfort her. She flinched back, her eyes startled and scared, and you lowered your arm. She stayed silent, just standing frozen and staring at you like a lost puppy. It made your heart melt, just like it always did. “Sam, are you okay?”

“It’s none of your fucking business,” she snapped after a beat, her expression hardening back into the look of contempt you were starting to get used to. You glared right back at her.

“Fine. I don’t even know why I care,” you snarled. Her scowl faltered, but you just scoffed in disbelief and stomped away. That devilish woman may still have a cruel grip on your heart, but you wouldn’t let her see it.

“Hey, Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here! How are you?” Tara called, running up to you. But you kept walking, your only response a look of disapproval and hurt.

“What the hell was that?” you heard her demand from Sam. “Why won’t you just apologize to them?”

“I told you, I can’t do that.”

Your vision blurred as you stepped out of earshot, her words hammering the final nail into the coffin of something that died long ago. You knew Tara meant well, but she’d taken it too far. You tried to focus on the movie as you entered the dark theater, but you knew no amount of explosions could save your ruined day.

All because of two minutes with Sam fucking Carpenter.

Taglist: @smut-religiously777

[satoruxlia]

3:00am

WARNING: WAY TOO CLICHE!!! Angst, really really cliche, insecure and jealous Satoru, Satoru is broken, did i mention cliche?

あなたを愛していることはわかっています

✷ 　 　　 　 · 　 ˚ * . 　 　　 *　　 * ⋆ 　 . · 　　 ⋆ 　　　 ˚ ˚ 　　 ✦ 　 ⋆ · 　 * 　　　　 ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧　✵ 　 · ✵

✷ 　 　　 　 · 　 ˚ * . 　 　　 *　　 * ⋆ 　 . · 　　 ⋆ 　　　 ˚ ˚ 　　 ✦ 　 ⋆ · 　 * 　　　　 ⋆ ✧　 　 · 　 ✧　✵ 　 · ✵

The clock struck 3:00 am.

No signs of you. Satoru sat in the living room, drinking some heavy alcohol… What’s the name? He doesn’t know, he never drinks, but he drank the whole bottle in thirty minutes. It was well-known that Satoru couldn’t handle alcohol, so why was he drinking? And why is he still sober after drinking the whole bottle? He was waiting for his wife to come back home after another night out at the bar. Everything and nothing went through his head, his thoughts consumed him whole, the thoughts of you cheating, having fun without him, enjoying another man's attention, getting drunk, dancing with other men, moaning someone else’s-

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your keys outside. Anxiety, desperation, longing, anger… Everything all at once ran through him as you opened the door.

His eyes widen in shock and disbelief once he sees your appearance. Your clothes and hair are disheveled, your make-up is smudged and ruined and your neck is full of hickeys. His fists clenched at his sides, unable to find the words as he stared at the clear evidence of your infidelity.

“S-Satoru!” You stutter out, not expecting him to be awake, considering what his job is. He marches towards you, towering over you as his voice trembles with anger.

“Who is he?” He tried so hard to keep his composure, but it was too hard when you remained silent, staring up at him with your adorable innocent eyes.

“Who is he?!” Now he’s shouting, his anger threatening to get the best of him.

“Satoru it’s no one-“ You didn’t even get to finish the sentence as he cut you off by slamming his fist on the wall behind you, silently warning you not to lie.

“Okay fine! I cheated”

…

…

What…?

He had already seen the evidence in your appearance, but why does it hurt so damn much when you confirmed it?

“Get out.” Is all he said, he ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to calm down, but how could that help when the love of your life just confessed their infidelity?

“Why? Are you gonna cry now?” You mock him.

His face showed all types of anger, he grabbed you by your arm and pulled you towards him

“What the fuck Y/N?!” He shouted in your face

“I’m… I’m not some weakling to cry over a… cheap whore like you!” He lied through his teeth, he had every intention of crying over you.

“Right, call me a whore, but at least I found a real man” Your voice is oddly calm and collected, despite having the strongest living soul gripping your arm and shouting in your face.

Now his face is twisted with pain and anger, the grip on your arm almost bruising, but you didn’t flinch.

“You think he’s a real man?” Who is that man?

“He’s nothing but a cheap fuck, a pathetic idiot who can’t satisfy a woman!” He continued to insult the man he never met, and never will meet.

“He satisfied me better than you”

And the world seemed to stop for God knows how many times now.

He stills, the hand that gripped your arm now trembled as he lowered it. His face crumples, and for a moment he looks like a lost little boy.

“You… you mean that?” He says softly, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought I was enough for you”

And you snort.

“Not even close!” The fact that you were holding in your laugh messed up his brain.

He stumbled back as if you physically hit him, leaning against the wall for support as his breath came in ragged gasps “I see.” he muttered, staring at the ground “I never was.”

You had to fight the urge not to cringe at his words.

“Oh God, so dramatic” you sigh as if he had no right to be feeling this way.

Something inside of him snapped, and his anger finally boiled over. He shoves himself away from the wall, his fists once again clenched at his sides, shaking uncontrollably.

“You ungrateful bitch!” He spits “I gave you everything I could… Everything I had, and this is how you repay me?!” His words only caused you to roll your eyes.

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a woman!”

He earned yet another eye-roll. “Of course! Blame your insecurities on a woman.” You knew Satoru was insecure, so why not use it against him?

He stops, his face crumpling as your words hit him hard. He looks away, avoiding your gaze. "I am not insecure." He mutters, almost to himself. "I am... I am sorry." He finally admitted, looking back at you with tears in his eyes.

“Great, here comes the crying.” Do I have to mention an eye-roll?

His face contorts with pain and anger. He wipes his eyes angrily, trying to stop the flow of his endless tears. "You know what?" He says in a low voice. "Fuck you." He spits out. "I don't need this. I don't need you."

“Crying won’t heal your insecurities.” His face crumbles even further as your mockery cuts deep. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down his racing thoughts and shaking body.

“You think this is funny?” He asks “You think ruining me is amusing?”

“Isn't it hilarious?” You watch as his tears trickle down his cheeks like a waterfall.

His body begins to shake with sobs, tears stream down his face as he gasps for breath. "I hate you!" He cries out, his fists clenched at his sides. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" He repeated like a broken record. He sinks to his knees, still sobbing uncontrollably.

“I hate…”

…

What’s happening?

He thought to himself as he felt soft kisses on his face. His eyes snap open as he realized it was all a nightmare caused by his insecurities. He looked up at his wife, she wore one of his shirts, her hair was disheveled only because she had a peaceful sleep, her face was clean and her neck was adorned with a necklace he bought her ever since they were teenagers, the necklace she never took off since.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

this is embarrassingly cringe and cliche, I’m begging for no judging! I’m just gonna use an excuse that the last time I wrote a ff was around 3-4 years ago. Feels good to be back but cmon, this is really cliche. But anyway have a nice day<3🫧

~Lia🫧

[just-zy]

My Miss President (II)

pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem Reader!

summary: Jenna was never the type to fall for someone like Y/N, someone who'd always end up in fights, someone you'd often see doing stupid things outside the school premises, someone who always look so arrogant but is an absolute sweetheart. Jenna wasn't into those, considering she's what the school calls 'Ms. President' aka, Miss Perfect. She'd never, right?

A/N: I got the part 2!! yeahh!! (still third pov!)

Warnings!: fluffy..

part 1 || Masterlist

Rummaging your hair as you get on your well neated bed, nestling your face on the smooth fabric of your pillow, sighing tiredly.

You weren't really expecting Jenna to be in school the next day. You'd hope she felt the same way you did, or that kiss on the cheek she'd done to you was sincerely a platonic appreciation for getting her home and defending her. Tonight, you really wished it wasn't, but if it were the other way around, you didn't really mind.

But, no matter how hard you deny it, you didn't want your relationship to be just platonic, honestly, you wanted more, you've liked her ever since freshman year. And now, you're both in your Juniors, nothing's changed.

It was all the same cycle really, you go and start havoc while she cleans your mess, you hadn't thought about it that way until now.

You groaned as you sat up from your futon, it didn't look as messy as it would normally look, you couldn't sleep, you hadn't really bee moving much, so you decided to head in the living room and watch some television.

1:47

As you set your gaze on the clock, you let out a tired sigh. You should've been asleep 4 hours ago.

The television wasn't helping either, if anything it was making your head throb, with each passing romance every now and then.

"It just had to be romance."

You turned the tv off and tossed the remote on the couch cushion, heading back to your room.

2:32

Sleep was finally kicking in, staring right at the window did help, the glistening glass helped ease your nerves, you didn't know how, but it did.

★

Making your way to school late because you knew Jenna wasn't going, was setting you in a bad mood. Jordan stopped you in the hallway to talk, apologizing to you, when in all honesty it made your blood boil, you snapped at him, reprimanding him that he'd basically apologized to the wrong person, because the only rightful person he should be apologizing to is Jenna.

You sneered at him and gave him the finger before leaving him by the lockers, with his 'two goons' by his side.

Leaving was the only right decision on your list, while everything else consisted of violence and payback.

First period was shit, so was the second period, also free period, then the fourth and so on..

You really just wanted to get back home and pay Jenna a visit.

After the bell rang, you bolted out of your seat with your bag halfway closed, but you couldn't care less, you were freaking out, you didn't know what to say, you didn't know what to do, what were you supposed to say? What's the right thing to say!

You got a glimpse of her front yard, the sight almost making you slip from the roads curb, maybe then you'd both match fractured ankles.

Knocking on the door lightly, waiting for someone to answer the door.

You hadn't really expected Jenna to open the door, after all, she just had her ankle broken. But, there she was, honestly with every second passing by, the prettier she gets.

"Hey Y/N, uh- what're your doing here?" Jenna lightheartedly chuckled, she didn't expect visitors.

"I– uh came to check up on you.. How's your foot? I mean- ankle– uhm!- Same thing.." You weren't always awkward around Jenna, if anything you always had your head up, but this time felt different, you felt giddy all over and really flustered. She laughed, only because you were acting goofy, which was new. "My ankle's fine, I'm fine. I'll be back in school in a day or two, it doesn't hurt as much anymore."

Why's my palm sweating, why's it suddenly so hot, why's she looking at me like that? Is something wrong with my face—

"Y/N, seriously, are you good? You've been acting weird since you've got here.."

Fuck it.

"I like you, Jenna. Like– like you."

Jenna didn't know what to say, does she say she likes you too? Or say something else? Or do something!..

Love is something scary, she knew that, both of them did, but it'd all be worth it with the person you felt like home with, you both did feel that way towards eachother. If anything, Jenna wants you to hold her till she falls asleep.

She got up earlier today, thinking about you, about how you carefully set her down last night, how you held her with care, and last night with the kiss she gave you?

She missed.

So, she let her eyes roam around your face, to your now creased brows, your lightly scrunched up nose, to your eyes that held such dread, then she gazed on the skin her lips made contact with.

"Sorry– I missed last night."

She said, as her hand caress your cheek.

"What—?"

Before you even had to question, she already had her lips connected with yours.

She didn't miss this time.

______+______

A/N: tagging for those who wanted a pt2!!

Taglist: @jusnough @pikachooo3

[epiclamer]

Feeling like reading horny rn so flirty villain and flustered hero except hero finds out that villain is actually kinda,,, yknow,, shy and then things turned steamy hehe

ofc no rush i just wanna slip a request here-

CW: SMUT

Role Reversal

There had been an array of different situations in which the hero and villain had wound up stranded together. Hero never planned their whole month out for the sake of it, because they always got stuck. Whether it be for a week, or a single hour, they always got stuck.

Never before had Hero a problem with it. Sure, their ideal Sunday night was not to be trapped in an air vent with their nemesis or turning green out on a boat at sea. But it never caused any damage that couldn’t be undone.

Just an inconvenience.

Hero tapped their fingers mindfully on the dark oak table, eyes boring into the king sized bed covered in rose petals ahead of them.

Unfortunately, planning around constant disturbances—such as this one—enabled any chance at up-keeping intrapersonal relationships. Or so the agency liked to call them.

The hero figured love-lacking was just as efficient.

For the second time this month they had been broken-up with because of their constant disappearances. Even when they tried to explain the situation, they just weren’t around enough.

They were always with Villain.

Villain this and Villain that, a new trap or a new mission always led them back to each other. And it was because of this that Hero couldn’t keep a relationship. It was because of this that they couldn’t love nor be loved.

A gentle tap on their forehead startled the hero out of their thoughts. Whipping around to see the partly dressed villain, water droplets pooling at the ends of their hair.

“I know it’s infuriating, but I don’t think you can kill a bed with your eyes, sweetheart~” Villain laughed, a chest laugh, an honest laugh, one bordering on intimate.

Hero’s eyes scanned over their nemesis once, twice, three times— Before the villain caught their attention once more, grasping the other’s chin with their fore fingers, tilting it up until their gazes met.

The smile that graced their lips only fuelled the hero’s boiling pit of anger even more. Did they think this was funny? Locked and stranded in a love hotel? Never being cared for or loved? Being dumped because of these stupidly constant rendezvous?

They huffed, pulling their face from the villain’s hold as they stood up and turned around. The image of the half-dressed and freshly showered criminal still imprinted in their mind.

“It’s because of you that I can’t have nice things.” It came out harsher then they had meant, but Hero kept reminding themselves that Villain was at fault for their losses. If anything, they deserved to be treated harshly.

Villain scoffed, voice cracking for a moment before they masked it with a cough. “Oh really?” Both hands landing on either side of the hero pressed against the counter, caging them between the tile and Villains body.

It took every molecule in the hero’s body not to turn around and clock the villain in the face. Maybe if they were lucky they’d dislocate their jaw.

The villain’s breath was on their ear now, hot and heavy as they teased and teased and teased. “Make me pay for it.”

They snapped.

Hero turned around, everything slowed down to a blur, unspilled emotions bubbled up inside them after such a long day. Heartbreak mixed with rage and suddenly both their hands were on the villain’s face and they kissed them. Lips against lips and they didn’t hesitate another second, catching the now flustered villain off guard enough to stumble them backwards into the wall.

All they could think about was Villain. How much they hated them for ruining their love life, how much they hated them for taking up their entire schedule. Hero was so sick of the villain’s flirting and innuendos.

Yet, they wanted nothing more then to have them right here and right now.

The crime-stopper pulled away, getting a good look at the villain’s red and blotchy face. Their wet hair falling over their eyes, swollen lips and heavy breaths, eager eyes practically begging for more. They were so fucking perfect. Hero was going to devour them tonight.

“Get on the bed.”

Villain only hesitated for a second as they tried to comprehend what was going on, but it was a second too long for the hero. They pulled the other back into a kiss, working furthermore in sync now that they were used to the rhythm, Hero dragged the villain backwards and onto the bed.

Flipping them so that the hero was on top, legs straddling the villain’s as their kiss grew rougher and passionate. Pulling away once more, Hero grinned when they had to pin the villain’s shoulders with their hands to keep them down.

In every encounter the two of them shared, Villain always flirted. They had this suave attitude that drove the hero mad and hardly even flinched in the face of danger. Even the Superhero found them charming.

But in this moment, Villain was theirs. Finally, they had broken through their hard shell to their blushing mess of an interior and it was a better rush of reward than any crime-stopping had ever provided.

Hero noticed the villain’s desperateness. How even now as they were pinned to the bed, they pushed their hips up against the hero’s in search of friction. How they groaned when the other pulled away and chased the hero’s taste on their lips. “You’re so needy…”

With an evil glint in their eyes, Hero leaned their head back down, mouth moving instead to Villains neck rather than their lips, gently rocking their hips against the villain’s momentum. “You just need it so badly, hm?”

They didn’t wait for the villain to answer, “can’t go so much as a week without my attention…” they bit down gently as they sucked a hickey under the villain’s collarbone and the other moaned as their hips shot up. Movements suddenly sporadic as they lost their momentum, animalistic almost as their hands reached to push the hero’s hips down even harder.

“All worked up over the slightest movements…” The hero watched in satisfaction as the villain’s body dripped with sweat instead of water. Losing any cleanliness it might have gained from being washed as Hero began to reach even lower with their trail of hickeys, making their way down painfully slowly.

Villain whined as the hero continued with their torture. Slowing their grinding to just a fraction, merely to tease the villain. They wanted to edge them. Wanted to make them beg and scream all night long before they got to finish. Wanted to keep the villain from the end until they were broken.

Releasing a hand from Villain’s shoulders as they reached it down, letting their fingers dip below the waistline of the criminal’s pants a few times before pulling them down. Not wasting anymore time as they altered their positioning, sitting lower—on the villain’s thighs—until they were sat comfortably enough to let their hand wander back to where the villain wanted it most.

Toying with them with featherlight touches. Torturing them with occasional rubs against their palm. It went from ghostly delicate to perfectly harsh and back again. Over and over and over as Hero’s mouth made it’s way lower and lower and lower.

“F-Fuck, Hero— please…”

They smiled, lips resting just above the villain’s sensitive skin. They could lean down a single centimetre and devour the other in a fury. They could make the villain see heaven for hours with just their tongue. Put them on cloud nine while they worked them until they were dry.

Very slowly, Hero leaned forwards, lips connecting with the villain’s abdomen once more. Fully aware they could make the villain’s night if they went just a touch lower. Before beginning their crusade of kissing their way back up. Because, where was the fun in that?

[bridenore]

HD fic recs : Career - Aurors (part 2)

Here are a few recs where both Harry and Draco are Aurors. This is part two of three and focuses on 20k to 50k words fics. Listed in alphabetical order, as always.

Agnus Dei by SilentAuror [20k]

Post-Hogwarts. Mystery abounds in the Auror Department, and two of the Aurors find themselves experiencing a friendship more intense than it should be.

Boiling Point by @goldentruth813 [42k]

Ferveret - n. boiling point After an Auror raid gone wrong, Draco ends up trapped in a dodgy safehouse with nothing but Harry Potter’s dubious company and a dwindling supply of food. With only each other and the walls surrounding them, they’re forced to confront their past and their feelings which have long been threatening to boil over.

Draco Malfoy, Bloodsucking Fiend by @kbrick [23k]

There are two things that Draco’s Auror partner, Harry Potter, must never know about him. One is that he’s a vampire. The other is that he’s been completely, pathetically, head-over-heels in love with Harry for years. But when the duo is trapped inside an old shop on Diagon Alley with no means of escape, Draco finds himself fiending for blood and unable to put even a modicum of distance between himself and the man he can’t stop lusting after.

Eye of the Storm by Mx_Maneater [25k]

A storm rages blindly around a cabin with no doors. Without magic, Draco and Harry are trapped inside. 

Nothing But You On My Mind by @moonflower-rose [29k]

Potter has been in Australia on an internship for almost a year, and Draco cannot wait for him to get back home. They’ll finally have a chance to talk about their feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? Loads, as it turns out.

The Partner, The Rival and The Very Big Case  by oceaxe [24k]

When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It’s just professional jealousy that’s making him feel so upset. Obviously. He’s engaged to be married to Astoria, after all. But when he walks in on Nott kissing Harry for ‘practice’ and has a wild magic outbreak, he starts to think that something else might be going on. Is Nott right? Is Draco a homophobe? Or is there… just possibly… another explanation?

Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose [12k]

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that. Hoppípolla by @moonflower-rose [20k] Falling in love was as easy as jumping in puddles, and Draco Malfoy was completely drenched.

Potential Gravity by @lol-zeitgeistic [32k]

Draco is not good at Cards Against Humanity, but Harry’s not good at being human, so it all works out. Except for the explosions. And Harry’s inability to live when Draco’s not around.

Resistance by SilentAuror [25k]

Everyone but Harry seems to have forgiven Malfoy his past, and tensions are thick in the Auror Department.

Stop All the Clocks (This Is the Last Time I’m Leaving Without You) by @firethesound [44k]

Living with Draco was difficult; living without him is unbearable. But if there’s one thing Harry learned from the war, it’s that even when one life ends, the rest of the world goes right on living.

Take These Lies by white_serpent [34k]

Repeatedly rejected by the Auror training programme, Draco Malfoy attempts an unorthodox method of gaining admission.  

Trust In A Broken Thing by SqueekaCuomo [23k]

If the ring was broken, that could only mean one thing… Harry Potter was dead.

Two Weeks by @shiftylinguini [21k]

If Harry had to guess which out of he or his Auror Partner, and tentative new friend, Draco Malfoy, would turn out to have Veela ancestry, his answer would be: neither, because that is ridiculous. Finding out the answer is actually him, and that his Veela heritage is wreaking havoc on his ability to work, sleep, and above all be in the same room as Malfoy, is a surprise to say the least. But this is fine. Harry’s been through worse, and he can just sit this one out, regardless of how much his body is screaming for the one person he doesn’t want to ask for help. Can’t he?

Waiting For A Song by @korlaena [49k]

After a couple years spent avoiding Draco in the Auror Department, Harry gets assigned to one of Draco’s strange cases. They investigate the mysterious disappearances of a witch and wizard, but in their search for the missing persons they find a lot more than they were looking for.

You Send Me (Honest You Do) by @firethesound [37k]

As far as potion accidents go in general, and deaging incidents go in particular, Draco knew this could have been so much worse. Harry only lost about ten years, and all his memories are still intact. But the sight of him looking as if he’s stepped straight out of Draco’s Hogwarts memories has dredged up a whole mess of complicated feelings Draco thought he’d buried years ago, and Draco really doesn’t know what to do with any of it.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[e-leohiss]

"Here lies..." || A John Price fan-fiction

Author’s note: This is drama and my first fan-fic of Peepaw. As of now I'm not sure if I'm worth taking requests. Personally, John Price is the most comfortable character to write but I do want to write the others too.

Others being Konig, Simon, Johnny, and Kyle.

**PLEASE DO NOT translate, repost, or in any way reformat my work on this site and on any other social media

~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~~***~~

Title: Here lies...

Main characters: John Price x F!reader Contains: Drama, heartbreak, broken marriage Wordcount: 2.2k Song link: My Mind (slowed & reverb) - Yebba

~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~***~~~~~~***~~

Exposition:

John returned home with a new woman that his wife hardly knew about.

But she’s heard of her husband’s affair with another.

Her husband is a busy soldier, constantly absent due to his line of duty. He would only be home for 2 weeks at most–once almost nearing a month. To think the day had come that he would bring his new lover to their home. Did John even consider this as his home? 

His poor wife doesn’t think that he does. Not when he had just returned only to be leaving with duffel bags in hand filled with the rest of his portable belongings that he packed minutes ago.

As she gazed at both her husband and his muse, innards boiled whereas her exterior was passive.

She blamed herself the most, the ruin of their marriage. 

~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~***~~~

Who knows how a woman would react if she saw the personification of her heartbreak before her person.

‘How do you kill your lover without killing yourself?’ A woman thought to herself. She stood still, and so did her heart. What could possibly be going through her head to become so still? 

It didn’t appear to be the “calm before the storm” kind. No. She was the unsettling aftermath of the disaster. 

Jonathan Price stood in front of her–stood between two women. John wasn’t looking at her. Instead he firmly stared at the floor. He chose to be a coward than to look her in the eyes as he spoke blunt blades of poison.

She broke her stillness to cut him off, “Jonathan.” He paused, but still refused to look her way. The new woman behind him shifted her eyes between the couple, discomfiture transparent on her face.

The heartbroken woman continued to focus on the visitor’s face; a tinge of satisfaction sparked in her when she noticed the new woman’s shoulders caving in from unease. ‘At least this one is looking at me,’ she thought.

Her low, toneless voice spoke again, “End this.” Jonathan’s head dipped down and heaved a generous amount of air through his nose. It took him a few seconds, but she saw the white sheets of paper in his grasp. Her limbs moved on their own accord. She lightly took the sheets from his hands and walked to the study to get a pen. Jonathan followed her a couple paces behind, his steps heavy and slow. As if it were the ticking seconds of a clock counting the duration of the dying home.

She placed the documents neatly on the desk as she sat feeling her muscles lose their strength by the second. Hell, the words seemed alien-like. She couldn’t read the damn content of the sheets. Her eyes skipped to regard the blank lines that remained unsigned. From within, more fragments fell off that made her chest more hollow.

She felt herself perish further.

Why would she sign it first?

She didn’t want this marriage to end. She did her best to nourish it. Thoughts of her husband always filled her mind. She would never seek feelings from another, not when she had Jonathan as hers.

But Jonathan did not think of her the same way. He did not think of his wife’s awaiting arms back home. He didn’t think of the constant worry his wife would always endure while he was away.

He did not remember his loving wife. 

There were no lies in their marriage and it was only now that she came to terms with those odious facts. Jonathan didn’t love her, not anymore.

And so it is.

Jonathan entered the study wrapped in solemnity. His face, however, stoic. Well, he was drenched to the bone with a captain’s ego, one of the traits she respected about him, and she still did up to this moment.

She placed a pen on top of the sheets. Jonathan understood immediately–a signal for him to make the first move. With three long strides he stood by the desk, pen in between his strong fingers. Her body stilled again when Jonathan’s hand raised but stopped midair. He readjusted the pen in his hold, his mind ran which caused him to falter.

“Dear–” he began, but his words got caught when he finally looked her way. He took in the sight of a broken woman. He couldn’t recognize his wife anymore. It’s like the color from her body faded into shades of gloomy greys. She would’ve looked serene in the yellow glow of the desk lamp weren’t it for the apparent wreck in her eyes and posture. Then her eyes laid on his. There it flickered: resentment. The tired look on her face crumpled as the corner of her lip raised.

“You should damn well treat her far better than you did me. Do you understand me, Jonathan?” Her silvery voice is tight. There it was, spoken anger. “She doesn’t deserve to feel this way–failure as a wife.” 

She placed her wedding ring on the desk with such care that it looked graceful to the speechless Jonathan, who had yet to sign the papers first. “In another life, I could have probably given you the family you deserved,” her voice cracked and her chest swelled with gradual pain at the sensitive topic. 

“How I wish I could provide that for you right now, John. But, nothing. I’m sorry.” 

She wanted to yell at the woman standing in the threshold of their home that she would not take him away from her. She refused to let another muse earn Jonathan’s attention; her role as his wife, as his equal. ‘You won’t take him away from me,’ she wanted to swear. ‘May these promises be written on stone, how much I want to remain by his side, by my John.’

Her mind went off alarmingly, ‘Damn her. I won’t leave him. Not John.’

Yet no such arguments came out from her.

How could she, when she blamed herself the most for her shortcoming as a wife.

A defect, unable to make John a father.

“I’m sorry we ended up like this. I’m sorry for hurting you so much when I vowed to put your happiness first.” Jonathan spoke thickly. He gulped, then surprisingly took a knee by the seat she sat on. “Our marriage may not have worked the way we promised it would, but I will take our memories together till the end of the line. I’ll always be grateful for your constant patience and effort. In another lifetime, we…” Jonathan’s words hung in the silence of the night as the endless possibilities ran in his head. Anything could have happened.

“If it makes you feel any better…curse, yell, scream, hurt me,” he said instead. “You can do whatever to lessen the pain–”

Her hand cupped his bearded jaw softly. With words full of conviction she said, “I won’t do that to you. Never you, John.” She smiled. She had the audacity to show him a smile.

The stoic mask of Jonathan Price fell apart the longer he looked at his wife. The longer he observed her the more he was convinced that a saint sat before him.

His left hand found itself atop hers to place it against his cheek. His rough digits massaging her smooth ones. “I don’t…” John whispered, his voice wavered with no trace of the soldier they knew him to be. He groaned, expressing his displeasure.

However, with a new-found purpose he stood and signed the papers quickly. He held up the pen for her to take, his face facing the other direction. Again with avoiding. She took the pen delicately. It took her a moment to follow-through but, at last, her signature appeared on the opposite side of John’s.

Her stare locked on the sheets that John collected hastily, his feet rooted to his spot. ‘Move. Move. Move.’ He chanted in his mind. 

“John,” the meek voice of his ex-wife called to him. He peered down at her seated form. Maybe it was the glass paperweight on the desk, or the picture frame, but something shattered. 

John bent down to capture her in his arms. Her body racked with pure heartbreak. Tears of blood could’ve been mistaken for the thick tears that cascaded down her cheeks. She cried so bitterly the back of his eyes boiled as he cradled her head on his collar.

Words tumbled out her mouth, “I hate you. You lied. Don’t leave me, John. John, please,” she begged, fisting his shirt. He pulled her tighter against him.

“I’ll always protect you, love. I’ll always put your safety first. Remember that. This, I swear. Don’t forget that.” He said to her with intensity as she kept calling him a liar.

“I have to go. Always take care of yourself. Put yourself first. I’m so sorry, dear.” And with one last kiss to her wet cheeks he unclasped her hands on his shirt and left the house, signed sheets crumpled in his fist.

He left her again, only this time it was painful. It was the last.

The woman waiting outside the door recoiled as the door slammed shut. John stood with his back to her and his head low with the doorknob forcefully in his grip. He didn’t wait for her as he began to walk towards the car. The woman felt the atmosphere shift when he walked past her. It was burning, and menacing. 

He hurriedly threw his bags to the backseat before stepping into the passenger seat. The woman moved swiftly, getting on the driver’s seat and revving the engine to life. She’s taken by surprise when he suddenly pounded the side of his fist onto the door. John’s breathing was deeply filled with aggravation as he tried to forcefully control his temper. 

“John?” She addressed the soldier without looking in his direction. “Step on it.” He seethed roughly as he glared out the window. With no further questions, she does as she’s told and stepped on the gas. 

John Price was known for being stoic most times, flashing a close-lipped smile occasionally, but how that changed when a silent tear trailed down his cheek. He had just left the love of his life back home drowning in despair. She wasn’t his wife any more and that made the damage in him a thousand times worse. 

================================================

An umbrella in hand, the sky wept sorrowfully as you.

Your mind flitted back to when Laswell appeared once again at the threshold of your home.

“I’m sorry we hid the truth from you.”

Who would’ve thought that the woman from before would be standing outside your home–your new home of almost a year–saying the most shattering news to you. You swallowed thickly. Mind still not fully comprehending the amount of information that Laswell had told you. 

“It was never supposed to be this way. However, a previous enemy had threatened to hunt you down in exchange for John executing his wife,” Kate took in a breath. “For the life of me, I don’t know how he knew that John had a wife. Turns out we had a mole who found John’s file and broke into his office.” Kate pulled out a picture from the folder she brought, a picture of a foreigner and a soldier wearing the familiar U.S uniform. The words began to construct in your head and they got heavier the more you listened.

“He managed to threaten John a couple of times but we weren’t convinced, calling it a bluff. Roughly a year before John and you…he was threatened once again, but this time we couldn’t risk it. Which led him to decide that cutting ties with you would be the best diversion.” Kate’s voice became softer as she continued. 

“We also had to convince you, so you wouldn't set foot at base. Rumors were spread about John having a different woman back at base so the mole wouldn’t discover your real location–” 

“Where’s John?”

Kate’s eyes snapped to yours when you spoke up. She noticed the atmosphere around you had changed. “When will he be coming here? No – when can I see him? I’m sure the mission’s done because you’re here.” You held your hands together, begging Kate to see how much you want to see John again. 

“I want to see my husband again. Please, Kate.” 

You continuously begged, and with that Kate’s shoulders appeared to sag from the pressure. She did not know how to tell you the terrible news. 

“You are a liar,” you said to John. “A horrible one.”

Chin quivered with another sharp intake of air. Nose is clogged, cheeks tear-stained, skin cold, eyes swollen and red rimmed. You kneel on the wet ground, sitting on the heels of your feet. You rearranged the flowers by your knees.

“You don’t like flowers, dear. Nothing to worry about this time though.” A choked laugh slipped through but vanished as another set of sharp breaths racked your lungs. John’s dog tags clinked against each other from the motion. 

“How I miss you, my love, it hurts.” Your fingers dig into the soft soil, reflecting your vulnerable state. “Wait for me. This time I won’t let you leave me so easily.”

The handwritten letter that came with all of his belongings burned in the back of your mind. The last paragraph you could recite word-for-word.

‘This is the only way, love. How I wish it wasn’t. But for you, I’d do anything. Even if it means leaving you in exchange for your protection.’

‘HERE RESTS IN HONORED GLORY 

CPT. JONATHAN PRICE 

BRITISH SAS

1985

PRESENT YEAR’

And soon, a new gravestone settled right beside it, with your name, year of birth and death. The promise written in stone.

‘WIFE OF CPT. JONATHAN PRICE’

~~end~~

[sillygoose067]

Over the 7 Seas

Ch.21

Charles Leclerc x Reader

You wake up tangled with Charles, your head under his chin and his arms wrapped around you protectively. Once you’ve completely broken free of sleep, you smile as you remember last night’s kiss— Or rather kisses. 

Charles, half asleep, feels whatever is between his arms do a cute little wiggle movement and hears a quiet squeal. Smiling, he holds you tighter. 

Realizing that he’s not immune to your actions, you huddle closer to him, and begin placing soft butterfly kisses from the hollow of his throat up to the corner of his lips. You feel Charles’s chest rumble, his groan coming out deeper than expected due to him just waking up. 

When he finally opens his eyes and catches your gaze, he grasps your chin and presses his lips to yours. 

You make a panicked noise and he pulls away, startled. “What’s wrong Chéri?”

“You can’t just kiss me like that after waking up! Morning breath!”

Oh. He sees what the deal is now. 

“Love, if I gave a fuck about morning breath, I wouldn’t even be here next to you”.

You blushed. Something about the way his mouth molded the English curse words was making you feel warm all over. And not the cute, cuddly kind of warm. 

Taking a look at the clock, you see that it’s only 6:20. You turn back to him. “Can we cuddle? I don’t have to be at the studio ‘til 10:30 today.”

He holds his arms open, lifting his side of the blanket with him in answer. Grinning, you wriggle into his personal space, and he wraps arms around you, squeezing tightly. You whisper to each other and share giggles and kisses for a while, until you find yourself drifting off again. 

You feel Charles run his fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly. Your eyes flutter and you feel him bring a kiss to your temple, never ceasing the motions of his fingers. “Go back to sleep, amour”, he whispers into your hair. Another kiss on your forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

…

Charles’s side of the bed is empty when you wake up again. The clock reads 9:20 now. You hear the shower running.

You get up and get your clothes ready, setting a cup of water to boil for some coffee. As you’re pouring a second cup for Charles, you hear the bathroom door open and see the warm mist escaping from the small room. Charles walks out, holding his towel around his waist. He walks up to you, kissing your cheek in greeting. “Good morning, Chéri”

You hum in response and lean back into his chest. “Do you ever take your clothes with you when you shower?”

He just laughs.

“Well, I don’t think you’d like it if I walked around half-naked for five minutes, looking for my clothes after a shower”, you say dryly 

You feel his arms creep around your waist and spin you around to face him. You wrap your arms around his neck. He raises an eyebrow in defiance. “Au contraire, I think I would like that. A lot. But I'm not sure I would be able to control myself for long”.

Grinning, you raise yourself up on your tiptoes, and press your lips to his. Charles’ hands move to your back, sliding under your top, drawing gentle circles on the skin there, making you arch deeper into his body. 

Suddenly, remembering the time, you pull yourself away from him, and push him away from you. “Now go! Get some clothes on before you catch a cold!”

You grab your clothes and scamper off to the shower. 

[mattalit]

A Broken Clock Never Ticks (pt. 1)

Ghost x Male!Reader

Part One (here!) | Part Two | Part Three

3 a.m., or, more specifically, 3:13: a late night or early morning depending on whom you asked. For (M/N), it was, quite unfortunately, a late night. He was used to late nights, of course; it was not uncommon for missions to dwell well into the next day, or week, or month, and today’s mission (well, tonight’s, technically) was no different.

Another successful mission meant another full twenty-four hours (minimum) of a sore, achy body. (M/N) couldn’t say post mission was his favorite part of his job—far from it, in fact—but he couldn’t deny the rejuvenating euphoria of a hot shower, of which he had already taken, and a cup of tea after a rough mission.

And so he stood, waiting, leaning against the kitchen counter. In the soft yellow light of the stove, he offered his watch a passing glance. The glass had been broken during today’s mission, cracks obscuring the unticking hands beneath. He would need to replace the batteries and fix the glass. Maybe I should just get a new watch, he thought, passively. But I doubt Price would give me a day off for a stupid watch.

The quiet tick! of the electric kettle sounded quickly but decisively. Water boiled—another successful mission. (M/N) rummaged through his tea options. Peppermint, chamomile, chai, dandelion… Too many options.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, sergeant?” a gravelly voice called.

(M/N) turned his head towards the kitchen’s entrance. “I could say the same to you, Lieutenant.” Chamomile is good for sleep, or so Mom says. “Can I interest you in a cup of tea? Water’s hot.”

“Hm,” Ghost sounded, moving his heavy body towards (M/N).

I can practically hear the creak of his bones, (M/N) thought, dunking his tea bag into the boiling water. He off-handedly noted his bruised knuckles, and he took a moment to stare at his broken watch, the hands perpetually stuck.

“I broke my watch earlier,” (M/N) said, moving his wrist to Ghost. Ghost grabbed his wrist, inspecting the watch. “I suppose it must’ve happened when I was slammed into that wall. It’s funny, though—isn’t it?—that you know exactly what time it broke. 11:32 and 43 seconds. Only… what? …three, four, hours ago? Oh, how fast time changes.”

“Why didn’t the clock work?” Ghost asked, letting his wrist go.

“…” (M/N) looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because it needed a hand.”

“Ghost…” (M/N) let out a small laugh. He took a sip of his tea. “That was terrible.”

Ghost didn’t say anything; (M/N) assumed he was smiling, but one could never know what happened under a mask.’

“Forgive me if this is rude, Ghost, but… under the mask—are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Are you willing to prove it?”

Ghost paused, side-eyeing the shorter man. “To you?” (M/N) nodded. Ghost paused again. “Eventually.”

(M/N) hummed, content with the answer. He clinked his mug with Ghost’s. “Well, cheers, Lieutenant,” he said, before lazily sauntering his way to the entrance. In the entrance, he stopped for a moment. “Good night, Ghost.”

“Good night, (M/N).”

[reactivatedrockstar]

Closed starter for @goldenspringshow

Before now, Bonnie had only ever received a controlled shock twice, and that was years ago. Today, as Bonnie fought for his mechanical life as he knew it, that number jumped up to six. He didn't want to leave the van- he knew he'd never come back if he did. He pleaded, begged, bargained with the staff to not make him go, he'd do anything, but they were adamant on scrapping him.

By the third consecutive shock, Bonnie's systems... they weren't failing, or further damaged, but they were stunned, allowing the staff members to push him out the doors, and into the mud. Bonnie managed to regain control of his body just in time to see the doors shut.

"No! Wait!!" He quickly rose, hearing the vehicle switch gears in horror, "Do not leave me!! Do not leave me here!!!" He begged, chasing after after the car as it began to drive away. "Do not leave me here!!! Do not leave me! No!! No!!!!" The gate closed in front of him, and Bonnie watched in horror as the van drove back to the Pizzaplex. Bonnie placed his fingers through the chains, just watching. He'd never see Chica again. He'd never see Roxy again. He'd never see Monty, or Sun, or anyone ever again.

He'd never see Freddy again.

Bonnie couldn't hold it back any longer. He wasn't a crier- he hated the feeling, but months of frustration and sadness had finally reached its boiling point and... he dropped to his knees and started quietly sobbing.

"Please come back...." He begged to no one. He stayed like that, hands desperately, yet defeatedly gripping the fence with fingers tightly curled around the metal. Then, he screamed, as if he'd just experienced anguish in its purest form for the first time. He wanted to rip this gate apart and throw it all the way to China!! He shook the fence, bending the metal at his fingers as his fists ball and yet... he didn't actually try to.

He was all alone.

Fingers unwravel from the chain link, and his hands drop to the still wet ground. He finally saw the mud on his legs and stomach, and now his hands. Gross, he thought, before slowly wiping it off- he wouldn't want any of the kids- oh....

He was still. Defeated. He had no idea what to do next. He had maybe half an hour before he shut down? His clock system was one of the many broken things with him. He listened and heard... almost nothing. No music. No music. No music.

No music!

No music!!

This was insanity! He had to get out of here! But where would he go?! He had to find a way to recharge his battery!!

[jolieeason]

A Broken Clock Never Boils by C.J. Weiss

A Broken Clock Never Boils by C.J. Weiss

Publisher: Date of publication: September 26th, 2022 Genre: Horror Purchase Links: Amazon | B&N | Indigo | Kobo Goodreads Synopsis: IS IT MADNESS OR THE SUPERNATURAL? Psychiatrist Claire Rossi seeks cases nobody else can treat—cases like her mother’s, whose misdiagnosis of schizophrenia and subsequent death inspired Claire’s career. Initially infatuated with an influx of seemingly…

[stagred]

　@radicheart, plotted starter!

　" No excuses, Germain! I'll be there in an hour! "

　Sentimentality. How he despises it. Staring at the clock tick away, Germain wonders if he should regret letting Calloway back into his life, given that this softened version of himself staked a claim within the walls he had so carefully put up. Sadly, he doesn't hate it, and a part of Germain is happy to know he'll have company.

　The reasons why, however, are a different matter entirely. Sentimentality. Calloway is worried about him, about his injuries. Germain puts a hand to his chest as he watches his coffee pot come to a boil, rubbing idly at the stitches still tying him together. It stopped bleeding some time ago, but the wound is hardly healed yet. He blames the bitch, naturally. Who else is there to point fingers at? He never would have agreed to Charlie's plans if he knew how it would --

　The water's ready.

　He'll leave it on the hot plate for now, so the water is an acceptable temperature when Calloway arrives. But he has other preparations to make now that he's run out of reason to waste time.

　The floor - length mirror in his room bears a strategically placed crater of broken glass that hides his face when he approaches it. Germain takes his time, undoing his tie and setting it on a nearby table, unbuttoning his coat, his vest, working away at the buttons of his dress shirt. He shivers at the cold when fabric finally leaves his skin. He'll redress before Calloway gets here, no need to see everything, but seeing this angry gash where his ribs connect makes his stomach twist.

　" Damn it all... " Germain mutters, and as he turns to snatch up his shirt again, he comes to the frightening realization that Calloway entered some time ago, and he freezes.

[acsis-narf]

Real DecaP Friend-Ship Fanfic (I'm making it myself cause I'm desperate)

It's a friend-ship fanfic between Harvard & Carl. Hope you enjoy!

Plot: Harvard and Carl have breakfast together.

It was morning when Carl banged on Harvard's door, "Harvard, it's morning! Wake up!"

Harvard and Carl are living together on Harvard's old house, since Carl's family mansion is a long way away from Broadstone.

There was also the choice of renting an apartment (or a hotel room since money isn't a problem for Carl), but Carl was too worried about Harvard living alone.

Since they were also roommates back in Police College, Carl knew exactly how broken Harvard's life skills are.

Harvard is the sort of person who would rather order and eat fast-food every day for a year just because it was faster than getting regular food.

Not to mention cooking, Harvard would rather take a bath than cook and he HATES baths! ("Just like a cat," Carl might add)

So, with that sort of worries, Carl decided to once again become roomies with Harvard.

Really, Carl moving in was more of for Harvard's sake rather than his own.

BUT OF COURSE, it's Harvard we're talking about so it's only fair that Carl is compensated by being tasked with doing ALL of the houseworks in this house, while Harvard does his hobby, which incidentally, is also his work.

Carl walked over to the kitchen to cook pancakes with the batter he was mixing while banging on Harvard's door.

He has to multitask a lot of things.

Carl was never good at cooking, not that he was bad, but more of he never really tried it.

Carl was the youngest son of the prestigious Oxford Family after all, every houseworks was already done by their servants.

But, since meeting Harvard, Carl HAD to be good at this sort of thing.

He remember the time back in college where Harvard prioritize solving a past case for fun for DAYS, to the point of not even taking a single bath or changing his clothes.

In the end, Carl had even BEGGED Harvard to take a bath. And that still didn't work!

But Carl didn't give up and he at least managed to make Harvard changed out of that smelly clothes for him to wash.

Carl was never good at using the washing machine, until he LEARNED TO because of Harvard.

The pancakes are all cooked, now Carl is preparing coffee for Harvard and tea for himself.

But Harvard still hasn't come out of his room yet!

Carl switched the coffee machine on and put the kettle on the stove, and went to bang on Harvard's door again.

"Harvard, WAKE UP!! Pancakes are done!"

But Carl didn't hear any reply.

Carl sighed as he heard the kettle boiling.

He never signed up to be Harvard's mom.

Carl was never good at banging on doors and screaming for other people to wake up.

Carl never had to scream a lot in his life, since most things are already taken care of by his helpers.

He also never banged on doors to wake someone up, that was his helpers' works (Carl refuses to call them his servants).

But his helpers never banged on his door to wake him up, they just knocked politely.

Carl briefly wonders why that never works on Harvard before.

"What is Harvard doing in there...?"

Carl wonders why someone can't get up early according to the rules.

Carl's life has always been filled with rules and restrictions, but he doesn't hate them, rather he's thankful for his family being so caring towards him his entire life...

Carl put the mug filled with coffee and another filled with tea on the table.

He sighed, "It's still so early in the morning, but I'm so tired already..."

He briefly glanced at the clock and gasped! It's already so late?!

Carl immediately went back to Harvard's door and banged on them again.

"Harvard wake up! WAKE UP! We're gonna be late on our 2nd day of work! That CANNOT happen!"

No answer.

"Harvard...come on!"

Carl started turning Harvard's doorknob, hoping it was unlocked somehow.

It's not in his taste to go inside someone else's room uninvited, but this was an emergency!

The doorknob doesn't turn, it's locked. Of course.

Carl started to panic more and began pleading through the door.

"Harvard...please! Wake up! Please..."

Carl's voice almost disappear, his last words tinted with tears about to spill out.

Just then, a miracle! Harvard's door opened from the inside!

"Good morning, Carl," Harvard was smirking as he opened the door, he was already wearing his work suit.

Harvard went to the bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair, and for the gazillion time after they started living together on Harvard's house, Carl sat taken aback by Harvard's expression when he opened his door just before.

Carl realized, also for the gazillion time, that Harvard doesn't look the least bit sleepy.

Harvard had also been wearing his work suit, which means he had time to change out of his pajamas already.

Carl then realize, again, that he had been done in.

And he silently buried his face in his palms, grimacing all the while.

As Harvard sat down to eat his pancake and drink his coffee, Carl felt something boiling inside him.

"Um, Harvard?" Carl asked curtly.

"Yes?" Harvard put a slice of Carl's homemade pancake inside his mouth.

"Don't you have something to say to me?"

Harvard looked at Carl a bit, then turned back to his pancakes.

"Well?" Carl demanded again.

Harvard chewed and swallowed the pancake in his mouth before speaking, "Good morning?"

"Not that! You've said that already!" Carl could feel his fuse getting shorter.

"Then what do you want me to tell you?" Harvard asked simply as he sipped his coffee.

Carl followed suit and sipped his tea, not wanting to let his anger and annoyance towards Harvard to control him.

Carl sighed and said, "How about sorry?"

"Apologies accepted," Harvard said, and Carl internally cursed Harvard even though he knows it's not proper to curse to someone, internally or externally.

"Not to you, I-" Carl sighed again, "Forget it..."

"Forget what?"

"Please- Harvard, just, shut up for a moment," Carl also doesn't like to use the words 'shut up' to someone else, it's too hurtful he said. He prefers the words 'please be quiet', but that never works on Harvard.

Harvard smirked and sipped his coffee again.

Throughout the duration of having breakfast with Harvard, Carl thought about how many times he's been bullied by Harvard like this, back at the college and even now.

For a brief moment Carl thought about Harvard getting married someday.

He wonders, if whoever that person who decided to marry Harvard is in their right mind, or if they were tricked by Harvard, or even worse, bullied into signing the marriage contract.

Carl feels bad for whoever that person is.

He resolve himself to tell them about his past experience with his friend, so they would know what they're getting themself into.

He would even do a presentation on it on their wedding day, just to make sure for the last time that they DO know what they're getting into in marrying Harvard.

Carl then thinks about their child- and he stops.

'Harvard CAN'T have children,' Carl thinks to himself, terrified.

"Carl, what are you thinking about?" Harvard, with his plate clean and mug empty, called out to him.

"Uh, nothing."

"Then let's go, we're already late."

Carl glanced at the clock, screamed internally, and laments to Harvard, "Oh no, it's already so late! We're not gonna make it, and it's only our 2ND DAY!"

Harvard just got up and took the car key, "Nothing is impossible for Harvard Marks."

"Oh no....." Carl, realizing what's about to happen, lamented again.

"Then mom, I'm going now," Harvard said to a picture of a woman resembling him by the front entrance.

Carl looked sadly at Harvard, and asked, "Hey, Harvard? Isn't it painful to keep staying in this house? I mean, umm..."

It was a question Carl had always wanted to ask Harvard, why didn't he just moved away.

After all, this house must bear such a painful memory to Harvard.

A painful and bloody memory.

But Carl have common sense and basic human decency not to ask his friend something so sensitive.

At least, that's what goes on every other day, all the panic and anger today must have burned his brain out.

But, now that he asked, he wants to properly hear Harvard's answer.

"...So I wouldn't forget."

That's all that Harvard said as he went out of the entrance.

'Forget what? The happy times with your mother? Or...the anger and madness that comes with losing her?' Carl thought briefly as he went after Harvard.

"Alright, let's get a move on," Harvard fastened his seatbelt and started the car.

"Okay Harvard, but remember, be careful and don't go out of the speed range. Please."

"What's that, Carl? You wanna be late on your 2nd day at work?"

"No! I'm just saying-"

Harvard cuts Carl's words, "Sometimes in life, Carl."

Carl turns to Harvard.

"There is only one or the other," Harvard said as he stepped on the gas, HARD.

"No no no no! I'm sure there'a way we can have both! Let's just SLOW DOWN as we think about it!" Carl yelled frantically on the passenger seat beside his friend and partner.

"Don't worry, Carl! As long as we go fast enough, the cops can't catch us!" Harvard laughed. With madness, Carl might add out of disbelief.

"We are the cops! Harvard, slow down! PLEASE! AAAA-"

Carl could feel himself screaming, but he couldn't quite hear it over Harvard's loud laugh.

The sort of laugh only someone between life and death, right or ruin could make.

A crazed laugh, one that would haunt Carl's memory always.

[goldencherriess]

Getting washed away in you.

Pairing: Young! Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Word count: 7.8k (oops!)

Summary: Y/N is a loyal maid. Remus is a writer in the making. Both of them embark on what would become a fate sealing trip.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of drinking, implied suggestive content, emotional abuse, manipulation, Sirius being the best wingman out there, Remus being the definition of a gentleman, love confessions, Titanic AU

Masterlist

10th of April 1912

She knew it before her worn out shoes stepped onto the deck. She felt it in the electrifying air, in the sparkling, brand new decks, in the humming of the waves. The salty air hit her in soft winds. It was the very first time she was boarding a ship.

RMS Titanic.

They called it the ship of dreams, the ship of possibilities. It was bound for New York City, a brave destination to those who dared.

She was just a mere servant, though. Her hands were scarred by now, always scrubbing the floors or helping in the kitchen. Rough skin, but a soft heart. Y/N looked all around, taking in the sights. There were some seagulls soaring in the air and spying down at the people boarding the ship and saying goodbye with tears in their eyes.

''Do you reckon mother would be satisfied on the trip?'' a young boy's voice asked.

''When is she ever?'' another voice, this one much deeper responded.

Sirius and Regulus Black.

Ever since she can remember, Y/N worked for the noble house of Black. Her mother was a servant, and then she became one, learning how to clean the potatoes naked, for how long to boil the beef, how to iron a shirt, how to always be careful around the house, to never upset the mistress. The only help they ever got was from Kreacher, a poor house elf, who had a much crueler fate than Y/N and her mother ever had.

She learned how to keep quiet, eyes cast down and head lowered. ''Know your limits, girl!'' mrs. Black said to her the first and the only time Y/N looked her in the eyes and defied her. Since then, she knew her place.

Y/N looked towards the brothers, wind ruffling their ebony hair. She remembered the early days when they used to play in the garden, before she was dragged to the kitchen and given an apron. She was six at the time.

Regulus rolled his eyes, before he settled them on her. ''I'm sure the salty air will get to her head. Maybe she'll calm down. Everybody loves a trip away from home.''

Y/N smiled softly. ''I've never been away from home.''

Sirius grinned, before taking her arm, and took a few steps forward, as if they were going for a walk. ''Behold! The whole world at your feet, miss! The destination? The stars!''

She laughed, while shaking her head. ''Ever the dramatic, Sirius! I think you should become an actor.''

His eyes shined and he opened his mouth to say something, but a booming, strident voice that resembled the shards of a broken glass, interrupted him. ''Come along, Y/N! Stop fooling around!''

Her smile fell off her face and she took a step back, letting her hand fall limply at her side. She turned her whole body towards the voice, shivers coming up her spine. The ice-cold gaze of Walburga Black pierced her through and Y/N gulped. ''Take this luggage and bring them to my suite. I don't want to hear any complaining!''

''Yes, ma'am!''

''Now!''

''Yes, ma'am!''

She tried to ignore the pity gazes of Regulus and Sirius. She tried to ignore the churning she felt in her stomach. She tried to ignore the tears threating to spill over. She almost tripped twice, her arms aching from carrying the luggage. Her heart stopped in wonder, though, when she entered the ship.

She never saw this much grandeur in her entire life. Not even the finest silverware of Walburga could compete with this ship's interior, with big, sturdy stairs greeting her, with a clock proudly looking over the whole room, light coming through the glass ceiling. Awestruck, she remained rooted to the spot, already forgetting about the luggage. Her eyes sparkled at the sight of it all.

A stark whisper broke through. ''Know your place, girl!''

And she was pushed forward.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Her room was modest. It was a small room but she found no reason to complain. The sheets were clean, she had a bathroom and a bed. It was more than enough. She took a seat on the soft mattress, looking all around her. There was only one small window, letting the light stream in. Her shoes tapped against the floor as she walked to it.

The ocean was sparkling, scales of light playing on the surface of it. The deep blue of it almost drew her in. The waves lapped at the sides of the ship, splashing drops of foams onto the window.

If she closed her eyes and took a breath in, she could almost taste the salty smell of them.

Growing up, the only thing she ever saw was the back garden of the Blacks and the kitchen of the house. She never experienced the rocking of a ship or its almost alive, screeching metal walls. She never experienced the kisses of the ocean.

Y/N let those thoughts wash over her before she brought herself back to reality. She was expected in mrs. Black's suite in five minutes. A large soiree was to be held tonight in the restaurant, and Her Grace had to look the most dashing, if not the most expensive.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N's hands worked through the material, tying the strings of the corset, the smooth silk kissing her fingertips.

''Tighter, girl!'' the voice of Walburga commanded her.

''Yes, ma'am.''

''I have to look the best tonight. There will be important people at the soiree, plenty of opportunities. I'm the head of the family, after all. Wouldn't you say so, dear?''

Her voice got sickly sweet at the end and Y/N almost froze. ''Yes, ma'am.'' she replied, before she tightened the corset to its limit, the material hugging the waist of mrs. Black, hiding her tummy and curves.

'''Much better.'' said Walburga, looking at her through the mirror. ''This is why I keep you around. My faithful maid.''

Y/N cast her eyes downwards. ''Thank you, ma'am.''

Suddenly, Walburga's gaze hardened. ''I expect you to be close to us at the soiree.''

She didn't back down. She knew her place. ''Yes, ma'am.''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The restaurant was as grand as she imagined it to be. Glass doors. Lavish carpets. Carved into the wood chairs. Chandeliers. Her steps were silent, as she walked onto the oh-so-ever soft carpet. Her long skirt hid her ankles and she felt the urge to take off her shoes just to feel the fibers of the carpet tickle her feet.

''Stop gawking around, girl! You'll make us the laughing stock!'' hissed Walburga Black through her teeth, before plastering a smile at an exquisite, middle aged man coming up to introduce himself.

Sirius, who witnessed the exchange, lightly touched her elbow, and steered her away from his mother. ''Do not take it to heart, Y/N. Don't let her words get to you. She doesn't know you like I and Regulus do. And she's too ignorant to ever try to get to know you.''

She gulped, but smiled anyway. ''Thank you, Sirius. That's very-''

''And the young lady?''

A manly voice interrupted her, freezing her in the spot. Walburga's nervous and false laughter travelled all the way to her ears, imprinting itself in her mind, much like a broken record would forever be stuck on repeat. ''Who?''

The gentleman who was still speaking to Walburga repeated his question, firmly this time while eyeing Y/N. The young girl gulped, feeling drops of sweat rolling down her back.

Mrs. Black turned toward where Y/N and Sirius were at, and with a fire burning in her eyes, she replied, venom rolling down her tongue. ''Oh, her? She's just a maid.''

The gentleman's gaze turned cold and he turned his back to her, without sparing another glance in her direction.

Y/N felt her lungs closing in and she took a step back, her eyes flitting around. ''Excuse me.'' she hastily whispered before taking off. Sirius' voice drifted through the crowd, calling her name. She payed no mind to it. She couldn't hear anything except a ringing in her ears, reverberating in the walls of her being. She pushed through, taking turns around the corridors, almost tripping several times before the open sky and the salty air greeted her. Stars were twinkling softly in the inky and sticky-looking sky. The cold air filled her lungs, calming her down.

Tentatively she stepped towards the banister, letting her hands rest on the cold metal. Her eyes caught sight of the waves hitting the side of the ship, swallowing it whole. The ocean was of the most dark blue, resembling tar and drawing her in. She leaned over, trying to catch a glimpse into the abyss. The waves splashed her face with salty and cold droplets, wind playing with her hair.

''You can't see the bottom.''

Gasping, she turned around, coming face to face with a young man dressed in shabby clothes. He seemed to have outgrown them for quite a long time because the coat's sleeves were barely reaching his wrist. He was wearing his hands in his pockets, slightly hunched over because of the cold. His sandy hair shined in the moonlight and his honeyed eyes stared back at her, sporting a kind twinkle. ''It's deep. Way deeper than it may seem at first.'' he added, his voice soft.

For a moment, she was at a loss of words, hands gripping the banisters until her knuckles turned white, and eyes wide. Then, her voice found the courage to speak up. ''How deep?''

He shrugged. ''Probably eight thousand meters? Deep enough to drown if you don't know how to swim.'' He regarded her with a curious look, kindness still present in his eyes. ''Do you know how to swim, miss?''

Her voice trembled. ''No.''

''Then, if you were to fall over, I would have had to jump in.''

''Jump in?''

He started to smile. ''If you fall, I fall.''

Y/N gulped, not taking her gaze off of him. His smile was enticing. ''I'm not falling whatsoever.''

Still keeping his distance, the young man replied. ''Then, be careful.''

She nodded her head, ready to reply but Sirius' voice echoed in the night. ''There you are, Y/N! I've been looking everywhere for you and-'' Sirius stopped short, catching sight of the young man. Eyebrows scrunching, he looked towards Y/N. ''Is this young man troubling you?''

Hastily, she replied, while shaking her head, still gripping the banister. ''No, no. He- um, he saved me.''

''I did nothing, miss. Nothing a noble man wouldn't do.''

Sirius, eyes lit up and eyebrows raised up, turned towards the blond man. ''Oh, did he?''

Nodding her head, Y/N replied. ''He stopped me from leaning too far.''

''Is that so? What's your name, sir?''

Still looking at Y/N, the shabby looking man replied. ''Remus. Remus Lupin.''

Clapping his hands, Sirius voiced. ''Well, that settles it! You are to be invited tomorrow evening for dinner, eight sharp. We'll meet in front of the clock. I expect punctuality.'' Turning towards Y/N, he stuck his arm out. ''Come, Y/N, the night's still young.''

Finally, breaking away from the banister, she wrapped her hand around Sirius' arm, maintaining eye contact with Remus. His eyes twinkled like stars in the sky. He bowed respectfully. ''Have a good evening, miss.''

Her face burned, and she broke eye contact. Leaning towards her, Sirius whispered. ''He seems like a well-mannered man.''

She shyly shrugged, lost in thoughts. As struck by lightening, she turned towards him. ''You invited him to dinner! What about your mother? And what about me?! I can't take dinner with you, it's just not proper!''

''Do not worry about it. I have a card up my sleeve.'' said Sirius, gently tapping her hand.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

11th of April 1912

Y/N regarded herself in the mirror, turning around and trying to smooth the wrinkles of her one evening dress. It was quite simple (she didn't have the money for a fancier one). The dress was the colour of dry olives, her sleeves coming to an end in a lacy manner. The white of the lace started to yellow, time having had its saying.

A knock on her door pulled her from her reverie. ''Y/N? It's me.'' Sirius' voice travelled through the door.

''Come in!'' she replied, her voice strained with emotion.

Sirius' lacquered shoes tapped against the cheap floor, a dress draped over his arm. He stopped short when he saw her fidgeting in front of the mirror. His eyes met hers through the reflection. ''Good evening.'' he said, slightly worried.

''I have nothing to wear.'' she announced.

His lips were pulled into a grin and he raised his arm, showing the dress. ''I think you do.''

Shock painted her features and she turned around. ''That's your mother's dress, Sirius!''

He nodded, as if that was the most obvious truth in the world. ''Indeed!''

''I can't wear it!''

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. ''Of course you can!''

Y/N shook her head, colour leaving her cheeks, eyes blown wide. ''I cannot! It's just- I can't, Sirius!''

''And why is that?'' he replied, voice laced with sarcasm.

''Because, because- I'll get in real trouble! I could get fired for that! You know how your mother can get! She'll throw me off the property, with no penny to my name and just the clothes on me. I'm not even payed enough to put aside some money!''

''Calm down! She won't find out.''

Pointing a finger to him, she replied. ''How can you be so sure? You won't be the one kicked out!''

Sirius gasped, putting his free hand to his chest and feigning hurt. ''I'm wounded! You can be so harsh sometimes, my dear.''

She scoffed, turning away from him. ''Stop that!'' Her voice got low to a whisper, but Sirius heard it nonetheless. ''I'm just afraid.''

His eyes turned sad, shoulders slumped. He pressed his lips together, before taking a few steps towards her. ''I'll make sure she won't find out, alright? I got you, you're my bestfriend, Y/N. She won't find out. He let his hand fall against her shoulder. ''I promise.''

Her glossy eyes met his in the mirror, lips pulled into a soft smile. ''Thank you'' she mouthed.

He just nodded, letting the silence say the words he wasn't. After a beat of tranquility, he grinned. ''Come! Let's get you ready! Time's ticking!''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N wasn't used to walking in heels, especially ones which weren't hers. Her ankles trembled in them and she tried not to step on her dress train. The dress was heavy, she felt it as if it was lead. She wasn't used to feeling the cold touches of jewels pinned and sewed in the corset, she wasn't used to the dangling of the gold earrings, nor to the soft silk gloves hugging her hands. And she wasn't used to the lingering stares she got from the first class passengers. She was never one to be seen.

''Calm down.'' whispered Sirius from besides her.

''Why is everyone staring at me?'' she whispered back.

''Because you're beautiful.''

''No, no, they know I'm an outsider. They know I'm from the third class, that I'm just a maid-''

Sighing, Sirius stopped and looked her in the eyes. ''This is your night. Enjoy it, let them stare. Have fun, just forget for awhile.''

With fear clouding her eyes, Y/N stared up at him. ''And what about your mother? And Regulus?''

A smirk bloomed on Sirius' lips. ''Mum's busy. She's having dinner with that bloke from yesterday evening. And Regulus is with them, keeping them distracted and occupied.''

''Does Regulus know about all this?''

''He sure does. Actually, he was the one who lent mister Lupin a suit fit for a fancy dinner.''

Her face lit up. ''Did he?!'' she gasped.

''Indeed. So, let loose for a night, Y/N. Where's the harm in that?'' replied her bestfriend.

Casting her gaze downwards, she shyly shrugged. ''I don't know how.''

''I think he could show you how.''

Lifting her head, Y/N was met with the sight of Remus dressed in a lavish suit. She recognized it immediately. It was the one she always had to be careful how to iron, as its material was a pretentious and tricky one. It ran smoothly down his body, hugging his figure. His chest was puffed out and his legs seemed longer now. The clothes were fitting him. His blonde hair was gelled back.

And he was looking at her. He was looking at her much like he did that night, but this time there was a twinkle of awe in them. His eyes were drinking her in, watching her while she took tentative and careful steps down the stairs, one hand on the dress to lightly lift it.

He was looking at her and she suddenly was one to be seen.

Her steps halted right in front of him, Sirius right behind her. She took off her glove and offered her hand. Remus gently lifted it up to his lips, brushing them over it slightly and lingering just a moment longer. ''Good evening, miss.''

Her voice got stuck in her throat but she managed to smile and curtsy. ''You look lovely.'' he whispered only for her to hear.

''Thank you.'' she replied just as softly, eyes meeting. ''You do, as well.''

He smiled then. A smile that could shine all the way to the bottom of the ocean.

''If the pleasantries are over, I'd say we should take a seat at a table?'' voiced Sirius, a smirk present in his tone.

''Of course, sir.'' replied Remus.

''Please, call me Sirius. We are to be friends, after all.''

Remus smiled at him, a friendship slowly blossoming between them.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The turkey was soft and the mashed potatoes melted on her tongue, aromas exploding in her mouth and enveloping her in a warm embrace.

''So, tell me, Remus, what do you do for a living?'' asked Sirius, knife cutting through the meat.

''I'm a writer.'' he replied, eyes watching Y/N, before he turned his gaze to the brunet.

''Anything I know?''

Remus laughed lightly, casting his eyes onto his now empty plate. ''I'm afraid not. Not yet, at least. I'm still trying to get myself published editorially, but no luck so far. I did manage to publish a few short stories in the newspaper, though."

Sirius paused, fork stuck in the air. He turned towards his bestfriend, who was already regarding Remus with curious look. ''Well, it's great that you know what to do with your life.'' he smiled, before looking deep into his champagne glass. ''Some of us don't'' he added to himself.

''What inspires you, Remus?'' inquired Y/N shyly, trying to meet his eyes.

He shrugged, waving his hand around. ''Ah, a bit of everything.'' He, then, met her gaze deeply. ''Beauty, most especially.''

Y/N felt her face burn up, once again, but she refused to break eye contact. She rarely dared to look someone in the eyes, unless they were Sirius or Regulus. Walburga taught her that people like her shouldn't even dare to even gaze at someone of a much higher rank (''Know your place, girl!''), but Remus seemed to look past the maid uniform he saw her in that evening, he seemed to look past her rough, hard-worked hands, past her awkward posture and past her slightly out-of-place manners. He seemed to see her just the way she was.

And she liked that.

''What do you write?'' she smiled.

''Prose, but I'm yet to try my hand at poetry. Maybe I'll find the inspiration these days.''

It was subtle, but the allusion was there, directed at her, through the clash of silverware against porcelain plates, through the far away violins, through the chatter, past the laughter and gossip, past the candles and all the way to her heart.

She tried to hide her grin, but she couldn't. ''Will you, please, read me some once you do?''

''I'll be sure to.'' he nodded.

Sirius cleared his throat. Both of them turned towards him, the spell broken. ''How about a toast?'' he said, while raising his glass of champagne.

The gold bracelet on her wrist clicked against her own glass when she raised it.

''To new frienships and to lively nights!'' announced Sirius.

''To new friendships and to lively nights!''

Y/N hesitated before she brought the glass to her lips. The champagne tickled her mouth and throat before it burst into bubbles onto her tongue. The taste was sweet, like nothing she ever tried before. The only beverages she ever drank back at home were water, herbal tea made from flowers picked from the Black garden and ale on special occasions, and even those weren't often. She basked in the playful taste and the coldness of the champagne. She had a feeling she wouldn't experience it again.

Sirius choked on his drink when his eyes caught sight of a very furious Walburga. Her face was all red and her stride was rapid fire. A few strands of jet black hair were fallen from the updo. A panicked Regulus tried to stop her, waving his arms around and talking hastily. ''She's coming.'' he managed to croak out before a cough made its way through his lips.

''Who is?'' asked Remus, eyebrows scrunched together and eyes flitting between both of them.

''Mrs. Black.'' whispered Y/N.

''Who?''

''Go! Both of you! I'll hold her off!'' exclaimed Sirius.

Y/N didn't hesitate this time, she stood up and took Remus' hand before taking off. Her heels got stuck in the dress train and she almost fell over if it weren't for Remus' warm arms wrapping around her waist. ''You fall, I fall, remember?'' he said softly into her hair.

A burning red made its way onto her cheeks. She shook it off and took his hand, once again, but not before taking her heels off. Laughing, she dragged him forward, running between the tables, past the waiters and out of the restaurant. She could hear his breathless laugh, as well. It reached her ears in musical notes and high octaves.

They took rights and lefts, they ran down the steps all the way to the third class hallways. Soon they came to a stop, chests gasping for air, eyes shining and grins present on their lips. ''Well, that was fun!'' he laughed.

''I've never run from that woman before.'' she replied, almost awestruck. ''It felt good.'' she added vividly.

''Who is she?'' asked Remus, still holding her hand. His thumb began drawing circles on the back of it.

''Oh, she's- I mean- I'm her maid.'' she finally concluded.

Y/N didn't know what she was expecting from him to hear (probably a disappointed reply or gaze, like it always happened when someone found out she was a mere servant), but all she received was another laugh and a shake of the head. Confused, she asked. ''What? What is it?''

''Her? Seriously? You're her maid?''

Taken aback, she blinked. ''Yes, I-''

''Honestly, she seems to have no control whatsoever over her life.'' he replied, suddenly serious. ''Which is a pity. People like her tend to make a living hell the life of others. Just don't take anything she says or does to heart. She doesn't know what she's doing.''

She stared up at him, a sense of tranquility and stability washing over her. ''Thank you.''

The corners of his eyes crinkled in a smile. ''Of course. Now, do you want to see a real party?''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The music was loud. Loud enough to crumble down the walls of the ship. The violins sang of long ago loves and future, promising ones. People clapping and dancing in circles and pairs.

"May I have this dance, miss?" yelled Remus over the chaos, sticking his hand out and bowing.

Y/N giggled before she curtsied. "You most certainly may, kind sir."

She had ditched the heels long ago, letting her feet cool down and relax. She felt every plank of wood whine under the weight of her dancing feet. Twirling around, her dress flashed under the dim lights and her hair fell from the meticulously put together bun. Remus took ahold of her hand and brought her closer, before he let his free hand rest against her back. ''Is this alright?'' he murmured, his breath close enough to flutter her eyelashes. She just nodded.

It wasn't long before they were sliding down the dancing floor and twirling, in rhythm to the trembling chords of violins. People were cheering and Y/N was finally remembering how nice it was to just let go for awhile, to let the world do its thing, to embrace the pulsing moment. Carpe diem.

The music stopped and she almost stumbled, Remus' nose touching hers. They were both breathing heavily, strings of sweat rolling down their foreheads. ''Can I walk you to your dorm?'' he asked in a mere whisper.

''Yes.''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The walk down the corridors and past the millions of rooms was silent. The exhaustion was finally catching up to her, and he was holding her hand, humming under his breath the tune from earlier. The room 101 finally came into view and their feet halted in front of it.

At first, Y/N didn't dare to look him the eyes, afraid to catch her reflection into them, but Remus' thumbs raised her chin and met her gaze. ''Did you have fun tonight?'' he asked softly, a tender look present in his eyes.

She shyly smiled. ''I did.''

The corner of his lips curled slightly. ''So did I.'' He let his hand fall at his side and he tilted his head. ''I'll write a poem tonight.''

Y/N felt the air leave her. She had to blink and to swallow away some of her nerves just to speak up. ''About what?''

''About beauty.''

And then he leaned down to kiss the corner of her mouth. His lips were gentle and soft, they reminded Y/N of those satin sheets in Walburga's bedroom, back at home. ''Goodnight, Y/N'' he murmured against her.

''Goodnight, Remus.'' she managed to whisper.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

12th of April 1912

Walburga Black was absolutely fuming. She was clenching her cup of tea in her hands, a scowl present on her lips. Her face was white as a sheet, dark circles clouding her eyes.

Regulus cleared his throat, putting down his own cup of tea. ''Did you sleep well, mother?''

She turned her head towards him, almost getting a whiplash. ''You shut it! You knew what they were up to!''

''What were they up to, mummy?'' he replied innocently, doe eyes staring at her.

A fire ignited insider her gaze and she almost slammed down the cup when Y/N entered the room, a soft smile on her lips and a far away look in her eyes, a kettle in her hands. She was wearing her maid uniform, the apron already stained yellow. Walburga pinned her down with her venomous gaze, eyebrows pinched together. ''Should I bring more sugar, ma'am?'' Y/N inquired.

''No.'' replied Walburga sweetly. ''Why won't you take the morning tea with us, dear?''

Y/N froze, the kettle stuck in midair. ''Oh, I couldn't-''

''Sit.'' commanded Walburga, watching every move.

Y/N swallowed thickly, turning to look at Regulus, who was staring into his cup, avoiding eye contact with her. A shiver went up her spine and she almost turned around, leaving everyone in the dust, but she slowly sat down, the soft pillow of the chair almost swallowing her whole. ''There you go.'' said Walburga, smiling enticingly. ''Why won't you pour yourself some tea?''

Y/N started shaking her head, but Walburga's gaze turned cold. With trembling hands, she let the tea fall swiftly into a cup. She didn't bring the cup to her lips, letting the liquid simmer and the steam rise up into the air.

''Drink. It's not poisoned, dear.''

The young girl tried to meet Regulus' gaze, but he was looking everywhere but at the exchange.

''I said drink.'' scowled Walburga.

Y/N brought the cup to her lips, wincing when the hot tea burned her tongue.

''You're one of us now.'' added Walburga coldly.

Y/N almost choked. She brought a hand to her mouth, coughing. ''I'm sorry?''

Walburga laughed bitterly. ''You sure behave like us. Wearing my clothes and jewelry? Eating like the rich? Can you imagine? A mere maid sitting at a table with my son, wearing my clothes? Eating on my money?''

All the colour left Y/N's cheeks. She fumbled with the cup, lowering it on the table. She couldn't move, she couldn't hear anything but Walburga's strident voice.

''Your mother was nothing but a servant, a slave. She didn't disobey me and nor should you and-''

At the mention of her mother, Y/N saw red before her eyes. ''Excuse me?!''

''Excuse you?! I'm most certainly not excusing you and if you think-''

''How dare you?'' Y/N hissed.

Walburga's eyebrows raised above her hairline. ''I beg your pardon?''

Y/N raised to her feet slowly, meeting Walburga's intimidating gaze. ''How dare you treat me this way? I've been the most loyal, the most patient! I've cleaned your sheets, cooked you and dressed you and you've been treating me like some- like some disease! I've never even looked you in the eyes, afraid you'd dust me away and burn me alive, as if I'm nothing more than leaves in the wind! Shame on you. Shame on you because you didn't know how to respect someone who respected you!''

Walburga's nostrils flared and her face got all red. ''You ungrateful child! I raised you like my own!''

Y/N scoffed. ''You raised me?! You didn't do anything but left me to pick myself every time. You're nothing but a pathetic excuse of a woman.''

''That's it, you're fired!''

Y/N raised her chin proudly and straightened her back. ''No.''

''No?''

''No. Because I quit.'' She undid the bow at the back o her apron, crumpling it up and throwing it in Walburga's lap. ''Have a good day, ma'am.''

Walburga gasped, shockingly turning to her younger son and finding him smiling at Y/N, a twinkle in his eyes. ''I'm sorry, Regulus.'' she heard Y/N say softly before her footsteps announced her retreatment.

The room remained quiet long after she was gone.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Remus knocked on her door twice before she opened it, smiling. He was holding a basket full of fruits, sandwiches and a bottle of white wine. A notebook was sticking outside of his pants' pocket. Eyes shining and giggling, Y/N closed the door behind her and stepped out into the hallway. ''What are you doing here?''

''I heard you ditched the hag. It calls for a celebration, love.''

She laughed, lightly punching him in the chest. ''You cheeky-''

Remus leaned down to whisper in her ear. ''Sirius helped me with the food. Let's not waste it.''

She looked up at him and nodded. ''I know a spot.''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The stars were twinkling much like they did that first night, but this time they seemed to whisper sweet nothings and promising futures. Y/N was lying down her back, across the deck, staring up at the sky, her maroon skirt ruffled slightly by the breeze. The food was long forgotten, the bottle of wine long drank empty.

She was staring up at a sky and he was staring at her.

''I wrote you a poem.'' he announced quietly, afraid to break the serenity.

Her breath got stuck in the throat and she slowly turned her head towards him. He was looking at her like she was the only star in the never ending sky. Like she was the moon in the night and the sun in the morning. ''I wrote you a poem.'' he repeated, worried she didn't hear him the first time.

''Read it to me?'' she murmured, noses touching.

Remus opened his mouth, starting to recite it by heart, his voice filling the silence between them.

''You're a sculpture in the palm of my hand

Marble lips and bronze fingertips

You're the finest art to ever lay eyes on,

And you would bring artists on their knees.

You're the first sunrise and the last sunset

A portrait of violet and golden sunshine.

Let me be the brush to paint you with,

Let me be the one to bring you alive and colour you in.

I'm getting washed away in you,

I can only hope you are too.''

She sighed blissfully, finding the air she needed. She got closer, lips barely brushing before her hands found his shirt's collar. For a moment, everything was stilled. The waves didn't hit the ship's sides anymore, there weren't any more violin sounds coming from inside, there wasn't any wind to nick at their skin. Just them.

Remus found her waist and brought her closer, lips finding lips, eyelashes fluttering against cheeks, hearts beating. ''Thank you.'' she whispered against him, once the kiss was sealed.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

13th of April 1912

''I don't know how to write.'' Y/N confessed in the open air the next morning, the sunrays bathing her in golden hues. ''Can you teach me how?'' she asked Remus who was taking a stroll next to her, down the deck.

He turned to look at her, his sandy hair imitating gold in the sunshine. He had one hand in the pocket, one was holding hers. ''Do you trust me to?''

She nodded sure of herself. ''How can I not?''

His lips curled in a smile and he looked away from her towards the horizon. ''Alright then. I will.''

''I'll be waiting for you this evening.''

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

He came knocking at her door, shirt ironed, a pen and a notebook in his hands. His hair, as always, was rebelling, strands of hair sticking out in different directions. Y/N showed him to the bed, as her room had no table. He shyly sat down, the bed whining under his weight. She took a seat next to him, legs touching, hair down.

Without a word, he gently took ahold of her hand, putting the pen between her fingers. He cupped her hand and lowered it slowly onto the paper. She was trembling under his touch, heart racing. She could feel the heat of his body radiate off of him and enveloping her. ''So, this is the letter A.'' he murmured in her hair.

With his help, she wrote curving lines. The ink blossomed and stained the paper. ''Let's try again.'' he said.

Her hand was no longer trembling, sure lines being born from the tip of the pen. Eventually, Remus lifted his hand, letting hers to slide the pen across the paper. ''There you go. Good job.''

She laughed incredulously, turning her head towards him, hair swishing. ''I did it! Did you see?''

He laughed, eyes lighting up. ''I did!''

Her laughter slowly died down, gaze slipping to his lips. ''Stay the night, please.''

''Alright.'' he answered, short of breath.

Lips met.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

14th of April 1912

11:40 p.m.

The iceberg came without a warning. Y/N felt the crash in her sleep, waking her up. Pulse picking up, she stood up, turning to wake Remus up from besides her. Gently shaking him, he fluttered his eyes open. ''Hello, love.'' he groggily said.

''Did you feel that?'' she replied, her voice raising.

He furrowed, confusion lacing his features. Soon enough, yelling was heard out in the hallway, water coming in from under the door, flooding the room. A young worker drenched in sweat burst into the room, two white life jackets in his hands. ''The ship hit an iceberg. Do not panic! Wear those jackets and come onto the deck, there are life boats.''

As fast as he came, he left, leaving both of them shocked, wrapped in sheets and pale. Remus was the first to break free of the shock, getting up and taking her hands. ''Come, Y/N, let's get you in this jacket.''

''Will we die, Remus?'' her voice trembled.

His fingers halted. He looked down at her, hair sticking to his forehead. ''Of course not, love. I'll make sure we don't.'' He tied the strings of the jacket before putting his hands on the sides of her face. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. ''It'll be fine.''

''You should wear a jacket too.'' Y/N said, slowly choking up. She leaned down to pick up the drenched jacket, trying to ignore the cold water eating away at her skin. She put it on him, tying the strings much like he did for her.

''Let's go find a boat.'' he said, taking her hand.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The ocean flooding the hallways drenched her dress and her worn out shoes, the only ones she had. She couldn't feel her toes and she ached for a warm bed. With Remus' hand in hers she powered through, trying to get past the panicking crowd and onto the deck. At some point, she was pushed downwards by a man with a bleeding nose and no life jacket, but Remus' arms saved her from falling. ''If you fall, I fall.'' he said, just for her to hear.

Soon enough, they managed to reach the deck, crowded with people running and crying. Looking over the crowd and pushing through, Remus tried to arrive at the boats, but a voice calling out to them stopped him.

''Y/N! Remus!''

Y/N gasped, turning around, tears threating to spill over. Her bestfriend was running towards them, ebony hair fluttering, clothes sticking to skin. He stopped in front of them, puffing. ''What- What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in a boat, Sirius? And what about Regulus? Where is he?''

Taking a breath, Sirius replied. ''He's in a boat with mother.''

''And why aren't you?'' furrowed Y/N, worry swirling in her gaze.

Sirius rolled his eyes. ''Because I preferred to look for you. You're foolish if you think I would let you go down with this bloody ship! You're my bestfriend, Y/N. You should know better than that.''

Almost bursting into tears, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close. ''You're insane.''

''I know. Mum's told me several times.''

She laughed through her tears. Sirius met Remus' eyes over her shoulder, a respect being shown through their gazes. ''This is why I give you my spot in a boat.''

Y/N's heart stopped for a second. ''What? No!'' She broke free from the hug.

''Yes, Y/N. I have to know you safe. Both of us do.''

''Absolutely not. I'm not leaving you, nor Remus on this boat alone. I refuse to!''

The warm touch of a gentle hand on her shoulder calmed her down. ''Listen to him, love. It's better this way.''

Tears started to slid down her cheeks. ''But you promised. You said you would keep us safe.''

He nodded, thumbs drying her tears. ''I am.''

She shook her head, hair flying around. ''No, no, you're not. I can't leave you behind.''

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He could see her clearer now, eyes drowned in tears. "You're not. We'll see each other on the other side."

Her lower lip trembled and she took a step back. She could see how Remus' heart was breaking at the action, his own eyes turning sad.

"I'll look after him, Y/N." promised Sirius, an unconvincing look in his eyes.

Her gaze moved between both of them, before it settled on him. Remus was a light. This was something she grew to know these past few days. He brought light where she saw darkness, he illuminated her ways. But now, he seemed down, his shoulders slumped, crushed under the reality.

She couldn't seem to see the light in his eyes.

"I'm not going." she finally concluded.

"You are." stated firmly Remus, taking her hand. "You are."

"No, I'm not." she furrowed stubbornly.

"We'll found each other afterwards." Tears gathered in his eyes. "Please, love. I'll be fine, you'll see."

Something broke in her, but she didn't let her tears flow anymore. She just nodded her head, letting him carry her to the boats, letting him help her lower herself in one, meeting his gaze for the last time.

People cried all around her, a little girl saying goodbye to his father, wives kissing goodbye husbands, violins sorrowfully playing in the background, the ship whining. Her eyes took in the reality of the moment and her soul crushed.

They started lowering the boat. He was still up there, hands in pockets as always, hair ruffled, shirt crumpled. Sirius was somewhere besides him, his lacquered shoes now long ruined.

She couldn't take her eyes off of Remus. The way he still tried to look casual, as if it was another Sunday. The way he always seemed to know what to say. The way he was now missing his notebook. The way he didn't have a penny to his name, but a whole lot of treasurable qualities. The way he looked at her.

And the way she was getting washed away in him.

In a spur of moment, she jumped off the boat, her hands barely taking ahold of the banister from the second floor. People shrieked and she almost fell, but a new found willing power gave her strength and she pushed herself up, her feet touching the ground.

It was as if she knew the way to him, past the corridors, up the stairs, all the way to the clock. Remus met her halfway, cupping her cheeks and bringing her close. "What did you do that for?! You're insane, you're absolutely insane!"

"I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't. I couldn't let you go." she replied, emotion evident in her voice.

He covered her face in feathering kisses, hugging her close. "We're getting off this ship together. I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

The ship tilted, furniture sliding down. "Come on, we have to get out of here." he said, taking her hand, once again.

The ship whined for the last time before it snapped in two and Y/N slipped. She shrieked, already falling. She got ahold of a banister, looking up at where Remus was at, heart beating out of her chest. He was struggling to remain upwards, hands sticking to the same banister, knuckles turning white. Drops of sweat were rolling down his forehead. "You have to let go!" he yelled over the commotion.

Y/N's eyes got wide. "What?" she yelled back, unbelieving her ears.

"You have to let go, Y/N! I'll be right behind you! If you fall, I fall, remember?"

Y/N felt as this would be the last time she'd hear his voice. Her eyes clouded and she opened her mouth to tell him the words, but he seemed to read her thoughts. "Don't. We'll talk afterwards. We'll have plenty of time. Just let go!"

And she did, letting gravity do its thing. Her skirt fluttered upwards and she felt as if she was falling towards the middle of nowhere. She was expecting to free fall forever, but the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean swallowed her whole. The cold water was nipping at her skin, tearing at her warmth and depriving her of it. Panicking, she tried to swim towards the moon, whose rays cut the surface of the ocean.

I don't know how to swim. I don't know how to swim.

She flipped her hands around, kicking her feet.

I have to swim, I have to swim.

She pushed her head upwards, finally coming to the surface. Oxygen filled her lungs and she gasped for air. People were screaming all around her, splashing and calling names.

"Remus?! Remus?" she yelled, her voice trembling because of the cold, her lips already turning purple.

"Remus-" her voice died down.

Looking around her, she found a piece of door and climbed on it, almost slipping at first. Her eyes searched for his sandy hair through the people struggling in the water, but the darkness had its saying, letting a black veil fall against her eyes.

With a sob, she laid on her back, the chilling air cutting into her skin.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

She was drawing the letter A into the air when the life boats came back.

"Hey, is anybody alive?" a sailor's rough voice called out.

Her hair crumpled because of the icicles when she got up. She tried to yell, but her voice had long left her. With the last ounce of power, she waved her arms, cold tears once again forming in the corner of her eyes.

"There! Someone's there! Turn the boat!"

Soon enough, she was helped into it, a blanket draped over her quivering figure. "You're safe now, miss."

The boat turned around, leaving the millions of lifeless and floating bodies behind.

Leaving a piece of her heart behind.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

15th of April 1912

"No, you do not understand! I'm looking for Remus Lupin! Have you got someone under that name on this ship?"

RMS Carpathia was bustling with people. People who were crying after other people, families who were being reunited, others who were finally coming to terms that they might be on their on own from now on.

She was given a hot tea and a warm bed, but she couldn't find her place.

"Calm down, miss. We're trying our best."

"Well, you're not trying enough!" she flared up.

"Y/N?"

She could recognize that voice anywhere. It was honeyed and gentle and she could wrap herself in it and forever feel warmed up. Abruptly turning around, she was greeted by the sight of him, all worn down. His clothes were dry by now, but they were stiff. His hair was catching the daylight, shining gold. And his eyes were puffy and red.

She burst into tears at the sight of him. Her feet had a mind of their own, carrying her to him. Remus met her halfway, with shaking legs. "I thought- I thought I lost you forever." his voice quivered. "I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I'm here." she managed to croak out. "I'm here. Let's get off the ship together when it docks. We can make our own life. You can become a writer and I can open a bakery."

He took ahold of her face, bringing it closer and planting a fevering kiss on her lips. Letting his forehead fall against her, he whispered. "It would make me the happiest man alive."

A tear slipped down her freezing cheek. He kissed it away. "I love you, Remus."

"I love you back, Y/N."

The Statue of Liberty was overlooking the scene, the sun warming up the people, bringing new horizons and days.

And Sirius saw it all, from afar, holding onto his little brother's shoulder, a small smile playing on his lips.

•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: this was it! Thank you so much for reading! I put so much heart, time and thought into this fic, it's really insane. It took me loads of time to write it and to plan it out. Most of the time the Titanic soundtrack would accompany me while I tried to find the right words. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!

And yes, that little poem is also written by me :)

If you'd like to be added to my tag list, comment under this post or send me an ask!

Tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead

[hunzzzzz]

Fight for you - Chapter 1 : strangers

Kendall Roy x original female character

Themes : slow-burn / enemies to lovers

Okay guys this is my first time writing if it’s terrible I’m sorry

Blurb :

Harper Aly is broken. Hanging on by a thread. Desperately trying to fix her life. Kendall is like a breath of fresh air, pulling her out from the deep end.

Kendall is also broken, but something about her makes him want to fight for her. Fight against himself to a better man, be the man she deserves. She was like the first daffodil of spring, after a cold, miserable winter.

Their lives end up entangled in one another, emotions are high, working together gets complicated, promises are broken.

Can Harper give him a chance, despite her trust issues?

Can Kendall prove to be the man that he says he is?

It had been another seemingly endless day at work, to the point where my mind was anything but focused on the task in front of me. Letting out an exasperated sigh I glanced at the clock, 10 minutes past 7. I longed for the day I would leave the office at an acceptable time, as mentioned in my contract. Exhausted, I flung my glasses on the table and made my way out of the office. By the evening time my contacts had dried out and I had switched to my glasses. The building was practically empty, through my blurred vision I could make out a few stray lights on. It was nice knowing I wasn't the only one slaving away at this hour. I hadn't seen daylight in the past 2 months, my pale skin and sunken eye bags could attest to this. My team had been working relentlessly on an upcoming project, and the grunt of all the marketing and PR work landed on me.

I made my way up to the roof, the the only part of my day that I looked forward to. I closed my eyes, taking the first drag of my cigarette. The nicotine buzzed in my ears, feeling the day's tension slowly drift away. I often came here when the building was scarce to stress smoke in peace. I had never been an avid smoker, just the occasional cigarette if I was particularly inebriated. But when life gives you a fiance who publicly humiliates you in front of the whole world, you tend to pick up a few bad habits. The combination of the man whom I loved, cheating on me, combined with the overbearing workload, had plummeted me to an all time low. I walked towards the edge of the building admiring the admiring the view below. New York was beautiful at night, I found solace in the city lights. From this height I couldn't make out what was going on below. It was an escape from the hustle bustle of the city, I could finally hear my thoughts so clearly.

“Do you ever just think of jumping?” I was ripped from my tranquil state. I snapped my neck to my right to identify the culprit, squinting my eyes, trying to make out who it was. “Just imagine the adrenaline coursing through your veins.” Said the blurry man as he brought his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply. I was so lost in my own world, that I hadn't even heard him creeping up beside me.

“Yeah you should test it out. Let me know how it goes.” I snapped, annoyed at the stranger who had rudely interrupted my peace of mind. The 5 minutes of the day that help keep me sane, keep me afloat.

“Uh, okay. Not your day huh?” He chuckled. He had the audacity to find humor in this, it made my blood boil.

“If you keep talking to me I might actually just jump.” I attempted to climb up onto the ledge.

“Okay- fucking extreme reaction. Fine.” He sputtered, backing away, hands held up in surrender. “ Okay look- just can you please- just fucking get down now.” I retreated back down with a victorious smirk. Grateful to finally be left alone, I wasn’t particularly keen on making small talk with some cocky guy from the financing or legal department, I had already done enough of that for one day. I took the last few drags of my cigarette and tossed it away without a care, watching it fizzle out on the cold concrete.

“Theres literally a fucking trashcan right beside you, but no- by all means please litter.” I must have jumped 10 feet in the air, startled hearing the same voice behind me, I scrambled back only to be met with a firm chest against my back. He gripped my wrists from behind as I instinctively brought them up to do God knows what. “Hey, hey- it's still me.” He chuckled. First this man ruined my smoke break and as if that wasn’t enough, now he amped it up a notch and tried to send me into cardiac arrest, some people just have no shame.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?” I all but shrieked, trying to thrash away from him. “Dude, let go of me, or I swear to Go-”.

“Or what? You’ll- uh, fucking threaten to jump off the building again?” He mused, using my own words against me. “Hey easy, easy. I just thought I’d stick around you know given that you’re a suicide risk.” His deep chuckle vibrated through my body, his breath sending chills down my spine. I could feel his chest rising against my back, his intoxicating cologne burning my nostrils. The scent, the exact same one that left me shattered in a million pieces. It all just became too much, my mind began flooding with sour memories from the past.

“Just leave me alone.” I muttered, my voice shaking, as I finally broke free of his death grip. Slumping my shoulders over the ledge, cradling my head in my hands. I rapidly blinked, trying to ward off the tears that threatened to spill, I can't let myself go back to that place. I won't let myself.

“Oh shit- I was fucking joking. Are you okay?” I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Look I’m sorry please don't cry. I’m sorry, I’m a fucking idiot.” His voice was soft as he tried to awkwardly comfort me, trying to make sense of my sudden burst of emotions. Rubbing soothing circles between my shoulder blades. I shrugged his hand off, and cleared my throat, straightening my back, ready to tell him to go to hell. I turned to face him, only to be met by soft chocolate eyes piercing into mine, full of concern. Timidly breathing as though, any sudden movement might push me over the edge, emotionally .

It felt as though all the pain that I so desperately tried to block from my mind, began leaking through the dam. The facade that I had built, convincing my friends, family and co-workers that I was fine, came crumbling down like Jenga .

I choked out a sob as my eyes betrayed me. I let the tears fall, each one washing away a little bit of pain I had been holding onto for months. Drenching my cheeks and leaving me gasping for breath. Each stifled sob echoed the loud, resounding ache in my heart. I was finally allowing myself to grieve my broken heart, my relationship, my ex-fiance— since he's dead to me now .

Deep down I knew this emotional breakdown was bound to happen sooner or later. I just never thought it would be at work with a stranger comforting me.

“Hey, you're okay.” His voice was velvety, soothing my anxieties like a warm blanket. “You’re going to be okay.” His hands gripped my shoulders as they viciously shook.

Once the sobs finally subsided, I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Well shit, that was embarrassing.” I tried to humour myself, wiping at my mascara stained cheeks slightly, turning away from him and facing the city, so he couldn't see what a mess I had become. “I’m sorry, I don't know where that came from.” I whispered, keeping my eyes glued to the skyline ahead, too ashamed to even look at him. Something about crying in front of people or in public, felt so deeply shameful to me, I felt so vulnerable. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“Are you sure- because uh, I don't know- there seemed to be a little something more to it.” He questioned sceptically. “Look, I've been there before, bottling it all up. Faking a smile to the point where I almost actually fucking convinced myself- that maybe, just maybe, I actually am happy.” He smiled as he spoke, but there was a deep sadness behind his words. “I’ve been to rock bottom, countless times. So look- just- I’m saying, I don't know what’s going on with you, but, just trust me the more you try to push it away the more it consumes you.” His radiant voice was like a beacon of comfort, guiding me through to the light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in months I felt like I could open up to someone, without any judgment.

“Okay you got me there, lock me up and throw away the key.” I admitted, earning a small laugh from him. “It’s just so embarrassing to even say out loud. Promise you won't laugh.” I glanced over at him. I already had trust issues from my childhood, so being betrayed by the one person that I thought I could blindly trust without a doubt, shattered me. Before the betrayal, I would put effort into being more social and open with people I called friends. But now I found comfort in the loneliness. I was on a 24 hour look out, working overtime to guard my heart, from ever feeling that type of pain ever again. I knew I wasn't strong enough to survive it again, so I never gave anyone a chance to even challenge it.

“What- of course not. I promise.” He responded in an instant, hand held over his heart.

“My fiance cheated on me, I'm sorry let me reiterate.” I corrected myself. “My fiance of 8 years cheated on me with my best friend.” I confessed. “And the worst part is that it happened right under my fucking nose. But I was too busy planning our dream wedding, setting up appointments with realtors; looking for a bigger place for when we decided to start a family.” I laughed at the last part, somehow saying it out loud sounded so ridiculous— how I was so oblivious to the truth. “I was so focused on the future, letting it blind me from what was actually happening right in front of me.”

“Shit- yeah no that’s uh- that's rough.” He nodded, taking in my words. “Fuck yeah, I get it now. Understood.” His voice was full of empathy. “I can't imagine- genuinely I’m fucking sorry.” Why was he apologising, when the person I longed to hear those words from, felt no remorse. Not a single ounce of guilt for hurting me in the worst possible way, leaving me broken.

“It’s fine. I’m in my acceptance phase now.” I reflected, feeling at ease sharing my raw thoughts with him, knowing that I’d never cross paths with him again. There was no harm in over-sharing with a stranger— what’s the worst that could happen?

“Yeah it sure seems like it.” He chuckled.

“No seriously- I am. Don't let my little breakdown earlier fool you.” I tried to defend myself. “That was partially work related too. The stress of this job has got me pulling out gray hairs. I’m too young to have gray hairs.” I sighed running a hand through my hair subconsciously.

“Okay now hear me out. Maybe- just maybe it’s just your bitchy attitude, that’s making you age?” He joked. Now that the haze of my inner turmoil finally simmered down, I saw his true colours shining through— god he was such an ass.

“Wow, creepy and a jokester. You really are a package deal.” I clasped my hand over my chest, feigning admiration. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal for someone of your prehistoric age to have gray hair, but for the younger generation, we take it very seriously. I don’t expect you to understand. You’re probably too busy dying your hair jet black every morning or getting fitted for your hearing aids.” My words left him stunned, as his mouth hung open in shock. It was clear that nobody had ever put him in his place before; humbled him; brought him back down to Earth. His entire persona radiated— finance bro— the worst of the worst kind of people.

“Okay- ouch. You fucking shoot to kill.” He finally recovered from my brutal attack. “And I’ll have you know my hair is naturally this colour.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “And also- I’m still fucking young. I know how to use twitter, I listen to Kendrick, I know how it’s hanging these days.” He said trying to sound confident but I didn’t miss the slight hesitation in his voice.

I burst out laughing, feeling my chest tighten as I gasped for air in between giggles. “Oh god- my stomach hurts- please you’re killing me here.” I took a moment trying to compose myself, as he watched his lips pressed into a straight line, not amused. “I’m sorry but using twitter, and listening to Kendrick doesn’t qualify you to be as young, and hip as you think it does.”

“Fuck you- I’m not even that old. I’m not even close to middle-aged.” He threw his hands up frustrated.

“You keep telling yourself that grandpa.” I smirked, loving how easy it was to get under his skin. Playing him at his own game, if he was going to dick then so was I. It was clear that I was winning the sword fight.

“Jesus- you’re fucking mean.” He smiled, shaking his head, taking my insults with a pinch of salt.

“Well, you know my villain origin story.” I tried to lighten the mood. “Your turn.”

“My turn? Uh- for what exactly?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know maybe your villain origin story, you know, how you became such an insufferable prick.” I replied grinning. “Harassing innocent women who are trying to enjoy a peaceful cigarette.”

“Oh wow- okay. So now I am what- some sort of creepy, stalker who uh- fucking comforts broken women?” He laughed, brushing off my harsh words. His laugh was like a breath of fresh air, so contagious, I joined in too. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this, let alone even smiled— It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Answer the question, creep.”

“I guess we're sticking with creep then.” He huffed. “No origin story here. Just a guy who came up here to avoid my family’s daily fucking drama. But then heroically saved a beautiful young lady’s life.” He smiled, eyes twinkling in the city lights. If my cheeks weren’t already pink and puffy from all the crying, they definitely were now.

“Wow, my hero!” I exclaimed sarcastically, rolling my eyes at the absurd lie.

A strong breeze picked up, I subconsciously wrapped my arms around my shoulders attempting to warm myself. I didn’t think to bring my jacket with me for a brief moment on the roof. Little did I know I would spend a half hour, pouring my heart out to a stranger.

“Are you cold here, take it.” He offered me his blazer, shrugging it off wordlessly, seeing my teeth chatter. I graciously accepted it, his scent still lingering on the expensive fabric. He lit another cigarette and offered me one too. I brought it to my lips, as he leaned in cupping his hands, to light it— if the brassy breeze would allow so. As he brought the flame closer, I finally got a good look at his face, the clearest I had been able to all night. I immediately recognised him. At that moment, I genuinely wanted to jump off the building, for real this time.

“Oh my— fucking— god.” I gaped at him, eyes wide as the blood drained from my face. I dropped the cigarette from my lips, stepping away from him. “Kendall fucking Roy. You have got to be kidding me.” I gasped. “Why didn't you say anything?” A million thoughts raced through my head, the most prominent one being— I was definitely going to lose my job. I had just told the COO of the very company I work at, the future heir to Waystar and Royco; to jump off the roof; allowed him to watch me have a spontaneous nervous breakdown; and if that wasn’t already humiliating enough I then proceeded to insult him to his face.

“Wait, are you serious?” He asked, lips parted in silent surprise.

“I’m not wearing my glasses.” I tried to reason, scrambling back, putting some much needed distance between us. “I have to go.” I quickly tried to escape, after digging my own grave.

“YO, wait- hold up.” He yelled, hot on my tail. I slammed the door shut behind me, trying to buy myself a couple of extra seconds as I scurried down the stairs, my heels about to give out under me. I made it back down to my office in record time and collapsed in my chair, heaving. Facepalming once I realised I still had his blazer on.