#cringe fail moment on my behalf

[gwaeddblaidd]

Feed the Wolf Chapter 7: Pride (Excerpt)

Our time together is pleasant. Unencumbered by the worries of the world, we sit and eat and talk at our leisure, simply enjoying each other’s company under the slowly setting sun. The threads of our conversation run deeper than before, returning to so many of the topics we discussed at the Weathervane and over text, diving ever further into each other’s tastes and opinions. Under any other circumstance, this sort of tranquil back and forth would be more than enough for me. I don’t speak to that many people in my day-to-day life, and I can’t deny that my talks with Enid are incredibly refreshing. With other people, I often have a hard time truly listening to them, at least for prolonged periods. It's not that I dislike other people inherently, but my brain just isn’t wired to sit idly by and listen to a wave of miscellaneous information. With Enid though, everything she says cements itself in my memories, every little fact about what she likes and doesn’t like, her favourite pastimes, foods, music – everything. Hearing her talk brings me joy, and seeing her take an interest in what I talk about ignites a passion within me like no other. To say that I’m happy is one hell of an understatement.

Under any other circumstance, these sweet moments would be more than I could ever possibly hope for. But, as it stands, I’m haunted all the while by the knowledge that if I want to get closer to Enid, I need to make the first move. In every quiet dip in the conversation, each and every time we spend a few minutes just watching the world go by in all of its beauty, a part of me is screaming that now is the time. But then all too soon the moment will pass and our conversation will resume – each time as wonderful as before, but robbing me of the opportunity to make that sorely needed confession. In my head, I write out so many ways of saying what I need to say, but never do they feel quite right. Loathe as I am to consider the possibility, maybe spontaneity is needed here.

Something possesses me to speak suddenly. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, but…” I swallow hard, begging the lump in my throat to recede. My heartbeat increases its pace, its rhythm like a drum deep in my ears.  “I like you. Like, I really like you. Shit, why is this so hard…?”

Enid seems surprisingly unfazed by my confession. She places a gentle hand on my arm. “Because it’s important.”

My eyes rise nervously to meet hers. Is that how it works? Do all important things have to be difficult? How is that fair? Who made those rules? Whoever they are, they’re a colossal asshole. Still, those eyes offer a quiet encouragement; a gentle, reassuring offer of support that assuages any lingering doubts I may have still had. As socially inept as I can sometimes be, I already know what Enid’s answer will be. The fear of rejection falls away, leaving me no excuses to hide behind. I just have to ask. Why does that have to be so damn difficult?

“These past couple weeks… I mean, it’s had its ups and downs, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt as calm as I have in my time spent with you. For the first time in years, I feel… happy.”

I need to pause, to give myself a moment to breathe. My breaths aren’t coming naturally to me as I speak right now, each one the result of concerted effort. I clench my hands into fists to suppress the tremor I can feel coming on.

“Maybe it’s too early to be thinking this way and honestly, you deserve better than me, but…” I sigh, a quick expelling of air to lead the words out. “If you would have me, I want to be more than friends. God knows I don’t deserve it, but that’s the truth.”

Enid’s pained expression brings forth a wave of anxiety. Did I somehow misread the situation? Was I wrong? How could I have been so confident that I was right? Me, who’s always second-guessing myself over the most trivial things. She shakes her head, but as she does a bittersweet smile comes to the surface.

“I don’t like it when you talk that way,” she says, a little quietly and not quite as assertively as usual. “You’re always putting yourself down, but…” She considers for a moment. “You don’t see what I see.”

“What do you mean?”

Her smile remains, but changes slightly. It’s almost a nostalgic smile, as if she’s drawing upon a memory. “You’re kind and sweet and caring. You act all tough sometimes, but it’s clear that’s not who you are. You’ve got a gentle soul, and you’re a good person.”

I don’t say anything to that. I can’t. The only things that come to mind are counter-examples to her assertions; ways of disproving all the nice things she’s saying about me. But I don’t want to dismiss her feelings like that. And perhaps even more than that, I want to believe that what she’s saying is true. It’s clear that she believes in her words, but I’m undeserving of such a flattering picture to be painted of me. My eyes leave hers and drop to the ground, unable to contest with her gaze any longer under the barrage of compliments.

“But more than anything,” she continues, “you’re clueless.”

Confused, I look up just in time to see her face close to mine. Her eyes are closed, softly and without any tension. She looks… serene. This close I can see the smallest of blemishes on her skin, all the tiny imperfections that prove she is a real, living person with a life of her own. I can see the hints of freckles on the bridge of her nose, mostly concealed with makeup but showing through just enough to be visible in such close proximity. I can see the parallel lines of slightly raised scar tissue on her cheek and above her left eye; tokens of her battle with Tyler. For a wolf, she healed up well, but those markings are certainly still there if you know to look for them. Her perfume, too, is so much more present up close. Notes of berries are most prominent, accompanied by a subtle undertone of vanilla. I’ve always preferred fruity scents to floral ones, and it would appear that Enid shares this preference. It’s a lovely smell, well picked out and befitting of her character. As she lingers so close to me, the aroma gradually builds up in my nostrils to the point that I can almost taste it. Wait…

Only as my attention turns to my sense of taste do I suddenly realise what’s happening. Her closeness isn’t without reason. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice her lips pressed against my mouth, the kiss so delicately and deliberately planted upon my lips. Her hand has left my arm, now cradling the side of my face and ever-so-gently pulling me in. Her touch feels electric now that I’m aware of it, both her hand and lips like jumper cables pressed against my skin, forming a circuit of agonising ecstasy. I tense up involuntarily, my jaw clenching in response to the unfamiliar experience. Enid notices instantly. Her eyes flash open and she pulls away, not too far but just enough to look into my eyes properly.

“Everything alright?” There’s no judgement, just genuine concern.

“Y-yeah,” I stammer, “I’m just not used to this kind of thing.” I feel my face flush with a searing heat. Thankfully the warm glow of the setting sun will go a long way towards hiding my embarrassment.

“Was that your first kiss?” she asks hesitantly, but amusedly.

“No!” I answer, far too eagerly but not untruthfully. My mind is thrown back to a summer many years ago, before Nevermore, before my father’s betrayal, but I snap myself back to reality before I can get too lost in memories. “No, it’s just been a long time. You caught me off guard, is all…”

---

Title: Feed the Wolf

Fandom: Wednesday

Rating: T

Chapters: 7 of 12

Links: AO3, FF.net

Summary: As the dust settles on the Hyde incident, Nevermore is slowly but surely returning to a calmer, safer state. But for those involved, the scars may take a while longer to fully heal. Gelert Davies, a half-werewolf student, has always kept himself out of trouble as best he could, but a chance encounter will test his resolve and force him to face parts of himself long abandoned.

Tags: Enid Sinclair, Wednesday Addams, Original Character(s), Enid Sinclair/Original Male Character(s), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Wolf Instincts, Loss of Control, Injury Recovery, Self-Hatred, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Courting Rituals, Werewolf Courting, Werewolf Culture, Eventual Romance, Family Issues, POV First Person

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day! :)

[thought--bubble]

She is Happy Now Part (2/5)

Modern Aemond X (Ex Girlfriend Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,116

She is happy now Master List

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Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of cheating, alcohol use, dubcon, and a bit of angst.

"Is she coming?"

"I don't know. Her asshole cheater ex is going to be there so she might not"

Aemond rolls his eye and clenches his jaw.

"It's been years, Heleana. You think you could maybe stop calling me that?"

" I love you Aem, your my brother but when it comes to you and her I'm on her side. You were a major Jerk"

He groans and runs his hand down his face.

He is sitting at Heleanas breakfast bar in her kitchen. Heleana is moving around the kitchen, getting breakfast ready, and putting coffee on.

"I am aware that I'm the asshole in this story." He lets out a sigh. "I just want to see her again"

"She's happy now, you know. So, any little magical scenarios you have made up in your head where you woo her back to you can be left right there in your head. " she looked at him warningly.

He doesn't say anything and just looks down playing with his fingers.

"She has been with Cregan for a few months now. He's good for her AND good to her. Something you failed at spectacularly"

"We were good together for 4 years! I wasn't horrible the entire time! I messed up once. One time. And she never spoke to me again!"

"If Gwayne had done to me what you did to her.... how would you react?" She looks at him eyebrows raised.

Aemond sighs and puts his head down on the counter. It's pointless Heleana never let's him get away with making up excuses for how your relationship ended and he knows she's right.

He tried for months after you left his dorm to contact you. Apologize. Promise it would never happen again. It was Heleana who ended up making him realize what was done was done.

"Have you heard from her?"

"Yes." Heleana sighed into the phone

"So did you ask her to call me?"

"I did. And then she sent me a video explaining why she didn't want to."

Aemond cringed. "A video?"

"Oh yeah. Like the idiot I am, I told her to record your reaction to her surprise, saying you would be so excited. So she got your entire reunion on video. You're a real prince charming, you know? Do not ask me to contact her again on your behalf. I won't do it and neither will egg. Least you could do at this point is leave her alone."

Aemond is pulled out of his memories by Gwaynes loud. "Good morning!" And the laughter of his niece and nephew.

"Uncle Almond," jaheara yells excitedly. She is only 3 and pronounces his name almond, which Aegon finds hilarious.

"Hey peanut" he reaches down and picks her up placing a big sloppy kiss on her forehead

"Ewwww! She shrieks, wiping her forehead and trying to wiggle out of his arms.

"Everybody ready to go get Uncle Aegon married today?" Gwayne says excitedly towards the kids.

Aemond puts down jaheara and sits on his stool stewing in his own frustration. He never thought that Aegon would be happily married while he was the one alone. Miserable and full of regret.

He never meant to let it get that far with his professor. He knew she was attracted to him right away. He could tell by the way her touch lingered whenever he turned in an assignment or the way her gaze would find him during lectures. He thought flirt with her, and a good grade would be easy. What he didn't plan on was bumping into her on his way back from his first college party drunk out of his mind and having not seen his girlfriend for months. He didn't plan on her offering to help him get back to his dorm, and he didn't plan on allowing her to come in.

He sobered up immediately when he saw her standing at the door, though. The gravity of what he had just done and what was happening in that moment hit him like a freight train.

"Shit! Baby, hold on, let me explain. " Aemond could feel his desperation tightening in his chest. He fucked up, bad, and he knew it .

"Oh, ummm, nope, no thanks"

That reaction was the worst thing he could have gotten from her. No yelling, no fight to be had she was just leaving and not turning back.

He started to panic. If she left right now like this after seeing what he had done, he was afraid that would be it. He grabbed her arm "wait please just give me one second "

You turned on him like a viper pushing his arm away "do not fucking touch me, forget my name loose my number I no longer exist to you"

His chest clenched, it felt like his heart was being squeezed. he swayed on his feet, swallowing down the sickness that attempted to make its way up his throat.

You had turned and went down the hall and out through the doors that led to the stairs

"Shit shit shit! " Aemond ran back into his dorm quickly, putting his sweatpants and sneakers on. His professor was sitting on the bed, strapping her shoes on.

"You know I wouldn't have come up here with you if I knew there was a girlfriend." She looked at him angrily

"I'm sorry" was all he could get out as he ran out of his dorm down the hallway and down the stairs and right through the doors to outside. He ran down the walkway, looking both directions, but didn't see you anywhere.

"No no no no! This can't be it, no, no!" Aemond was yanking at his hair, his eye full of tears. He tries to run to the left but is not steady on his feet because of how much he drank and ends up falling on the sidewalk. He attempts to get himself up but gives up exhausted and lets out a huge loud sob.

He rolls onto his back on the cement of the walkway and just looks up at the sky while tears roll down his cheek.

"This isn't really how we end, is it?" He says to no one

"Hello! Earth to Aemond!" Aemond crashes back into the present with Heleana snapping in his face. She sighs and looks at him tenderly.

"Cmon, eat your breakfast and get ready." She taps his shoulder as she heads out of the kitchen and up the stairs to get her and the kids ready for Aegons nuptials.

He isn't able to get much down, but he takes a few bites and heads upstairs to get himself ready.

He drives to the ceremony with Heleana and Gwayne sitting in the middle of the backseat between the twins in their booster seats.

"I'm gonna marry you one day" Aemond says dreamily looking up at his ceiling.

It's summer of junior year and you are both squished onto his twin bed his arm under you holding you close.

"Oh?" You say picking your head up and looking at him.

"Isn't it obvious, darling? Can't live without ya. Marriage is a given at this point" he laughs, grabbing your chin and pulling you in for a kiss.

"Would you want to get married in the grand Sept or on the beach?"

"Anywhere as long as I'm marrying you," aemond leans in for another kiss.

"I'm serious I want to have it all planned out ahead of time!"

"Then plan it out, baby. Because no matter where it is, I'll show up to marry you"

You giggled as he rolled over on top of you kissing you with purpose

The car door slams. They have made it to the grand Sept, and it is time to get this show on the road. Aemond makes his way inside and heads to the grooms room where Aegon is bouncing around with excitement, putting on his finishing touches.

"Aemond! Smile, man! This is a joyous day!" Aegon yells at him while grabbing his arm and pulling him all the way into the room.

Aemond forces a big smile on his face for Aegon's benefit. It's not that he isn't happy for his brother, he is. He just can't help the jealousy that is flowing through him at this moment.

This could have been them. Should have been them. Would have been them if he didn't screw it all up.

When it's time for the actual ceremony to begin, everyone makes their way to their places. Aemond smiles at Ellyn as they get in line. He can feel his heart rate speed up at the thought that you might be out there. After years of being so far from you, you both might actually be in the same room at the same time.

Aemond waits impatiently for the pair ahead of them to step in front of the doorway and start to walk down the aisle. Once Criston and Maris step out and down the aisle, he and ellyn move forward and stand in the doorway. He sees you right away. You're looking down at the ground, but he could spot that little heart tattoo on the back of your neck anywhere. He has a matching one on the inside of his wrist. He's happy to see yours hasn't been covered or blacked out.

"Matching tattoos? are you daft?" Aegon laughs while looking at Aemond incredulously.

Aemond ignores him slathering on some of the aftercare products he had been told he would need to put on a few times a day.

"And what will you do when you split up? Walking around with that on your arm to remind you forever?"

Aemond laughs and continues applying the balm,"we aren't going to split up egg. This tattoo is forever, and so are we"

"You are 18 Aemond! You couldn't possibly know that you will stay together forever! You leave for university in less than a month! You really think the long-distance thing is going to work? For 4 years?"

"I know it will. Just because you don't understand commitment doesn't mean I don't, " Aemond says haughtily.

Aegon rolls his eyes. "Whatever you say. Just don't let mom see that. She's gonna kill you!"

Ellyn yanks on Aemonds arm and looks at him perplexed.

He clears his throat and starts to make his way down the aisle. Unfortunately for him, he can't really see you now because you're on his blind side. They make it up to the altar and release their arms, each moving to their assigned spot. He flicks his eye back towards you, and you're hard to see. Why did you have to sit so far back?

He pays no attention to how the ceremony continues going on around him, shaking his leg impatiently.

He hears his mother clear her throat from the front row. He looks at her, and she opens her eyes wide and waves her hand at him in a way of telling him to cut it out.

He straightens his back and stands up tall, taking in a deep breath. Focusing on Aegon and Cassandra. They are putting the rings on each other's fingers, and he feels a wave of pain roll through him.

His hands clapsed before him, he started unconsciously rubbing his wrist where the heart tattoo sits. He had no idea this was going to be this hard. His whole body is shaking with emotional overload. When finally Aegon and Cassandra kiss and then turn to their guests, raising their claspsed hands above their heads and starting to make their way back down the aisle he moves forward on shakey legs and joins his arm with Ellyns once more, walking down the aisle he keeps his eye trained on where he knows you are. Your head is turned away from him, looking at the entryway. He can see your arm is looped around the arm of the brown haired man standing next to you. How he would give anything to switch places with him. Even just for a minute. As he continues down the aisle eye trained on you, you turn your head, and it happens. Your tear filled eyes find his, and he forgets how to breathe. Those eyes he has seen filled with rage and hurt for years in his dreams are there right in front of him, filled with tears, and he thinks they have never been more beautiful.

He is forced to stop looking at you once he passes, but he knows your last conversation can't be the last interaction you ever have. No, he has one more chance to talk to you.

At the reception.

A/N: Part 3 is in the works. I have a mid-term tonight and a lot of homework this weekend, so I probably won't get it out until Monday. Thank you to anyone who reads :) ❤️

Part 3

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[memory-lane-and-back-again]

A Thought About Wei Wuxian's Death

Spoilers for... I don't remember which book it is (Book 3 I think)

When WWX is captured by the Wens and tossed into the burial mounds he is so full of rage and anger that it is a terrifying possibility that he will come back as a fierce corpse full of resentful energy. (Arguable he does, but that's a point to make for after exams when I can actually have fun and analyse the heck out of these)

I find it an interesting parallel that when he actually does die he is an incredibly 'well behaved ghost.' as in, he's well... if not moved on, at least not inclined to try and act and in some state of peace: not happy but at least tolerating how things have ended. WWX's character is permeated by a deep, inextricable sadness and I think, though it is not ever blatantly acknowledge, this is foregrounded right at the beginning with the story: he doesn't know why he's been brought back, does not understand and is incredibly fixed on the fact that it was not his choice. To infer... he didn't really want to come back.

I found his present mellowness, that contrasts so brutally with his fury and anger and ability to feel such intensity before he died, to be a bit strange---not unbelievable but strange. That kind of anger burns incredibly brightly and is incredibly hard to tamper down and yes, he grows and matures but it feels a bit strange to me that this comes on from spending ten years without a body. I think it is more an extension of his grief and guilt: after Wen Qing and Wen Ning go to die on his behalf is when he gets truly angry... his anger gets out of control and Jiang Yanli is hurt and then dies for him. Jiang Cheng takes his anger out on him. As far as WWX can remember even LWJ is disgusted by him... is it so hard to believe that he too is disgusted with himself. Present day, he cringes at his past arrogance---the illusion of omnipotence and control he thought he had.

I am of the opinion he's the sort of person with the mindset that if he can make the world a better place, fix one problem, even if it is at the expense of his own, he'd do it. He is raised to protect JC, doesn't even bat an eye at losing his core because if it can help JC it is good; he doesn't fear dying if he can come back as a fierce corpse to still help destroy the Wens; he doesn't care to humiliate himself to try and give Wen Ning a chance at archery; his public image does not matter if he is helping people. This carries forward where he is willing to sacrifice discovery to protect Jin Ling; he turns himself into a spirit attraction flag for people who hate him; the moment LWJ freaks out about sleeping with him, WWX first priority is to take all the blame for everything and then leave and go do the stupid mission all by himself because he doesn't want to force LWJ to put up with him, even though it leaves WWX himself incredibly wrought. And then of course, he doesn't even bat an eye at luring Nie Minguie away by himself.

My point is he's a willing martyr, happy to get himself into trouble and deep water for pretty much anyone (mianmian, LWJ, JC, the Wens) so it must feel like hell when his efforts only succeed in getting everyone killed, when he's kind of forced to confront that he is loved and had people willing to stand by him that he did not consider when he made his plans and that they are dead because of to an extent his actions. I truly believe him trying to destroy the Yin Tiger Tally is his last attempt to try and rectify things and he is a bit like Xiao Xingchen in that regard, trying so hard to follow his principles and failing abysmally. At that point his jiejie is dead, who is like the very symbol of innocence and unconditional love in his life at that point and he knows they are coming to kill him. His big character difference I think has a lot to do with the three months after the nightless city and before his death because he feels the world is better off with him dead.

A lot of people compare Xue Yang and WWX and whilst I think that is valid, I think a lot of people forget his inherent connection to XXC through his mother. I think it is important to acknowledge that they share a very similar mindset: naively wanting to change the world with their beliefs alone as if people will see altruism and kindness as the best path whilst most people are out searching very selfishly for their own greatness and success---something neither WWX adn XXC need to think about because A) the are already powerful and successful and B) they were never raised to think themselves as needing to be supremely powerful to be successful and Good.

Anyways, it does make me wonder how much of WWX's characterisation present day is put on. He slaps himself in the face when no one is around to see it after he finds out who Jin Ling is, he lets Jin Ling stab him and feels he deserves it---that by proxy is when he's most open with LWJ: 'you don't need to come with me, your reputation will be ruined.' It so, so clearly speaks of self-loathing that he is so so good at hiding.

I think actually when LWJ and WWX first sleep together the physical undressing is also a metaphor for an emotional undressing on WWX's part because he strips himself of his insincerity and arrogance and allows himself to be vulnerable. The only other times we see his vulnerability is when he's passed out unconscious and when he realises to stop hurting LWJ he needs to kind of bare his soul to him in book 5 after LXC reveals the truth about nightless city.

Gosh, I love these characters so much.

[inyujidraws]

1st | 2nd | 3rd | 4th | 6th

Alastor’s Hell arc in this RadioMoon AU. He’s pissed that he was rudely ripped away from his family. Also he meets his old pal, Barry. I’ve made a few redesigns due to how different Alastor is in this AU, and to be more reflective of the 1920/1930s aesthetic. Husk & Nifty have a few changes as well.

Thanks everyone who came to my streams, watch me draw, & talk cringe.

Alastor here is a different man who has actually enjoyed a more fulfilling life filled with a few more people to love and live for. His mother avoided canon death due to Creon being there to save her. Alastor avoided his cannon death of being shot by a hunter by accident. Being a family man can really change a person. So of course he’d be pissed and traumatized from dying while protecting his adopted son in the midst of a mobster shootout in broad daylight.

Why does Alastor still have deer features after death? During the mobster shootout, Alastor managed to get Daniel to safety behind a truck that was loaded with taxidermy animal heads and other exotic goods. Amidst the chaos, the heads fell on top of the two. Alastor barely managed to get a deer head off of him, only to get shot in the head by a stray bullet. Daniel was safely covered by a bunch of animal heads, but he will forever be traumatized by his father’s death.

Alastor did not have a good time initially. The last living moment is being shot while protecting his son. So he’d be very pissed off and extra murderous, especially if people are being disrespectful. He’ll still take down overlords. In his sick twisted reasoning, he believes Creon will join him eventually, so he needs to “take out the trash.” He later made his peace with enjoying the good old days of killing and cannibalizing without a care. After all, he doesn’t have his family to care for and reign him in so who needs empathy?

On the bright side, he finds his old comedian pal, Barry. Barry had taken his own life during the early stages of the Great Depression. That was enough to send him to Hell. Barry has survived on his own barely due to Batman-Joker powers. He can force anyone within range to laugh uncontrollably, whether his jokes are good or not. Whacky clowny toon shenanigans happen around this clown demon.

Alastor will still own Husk and Nifty’s souls. Alastor isn’t a complete dick to Husk, and they’re on friendlier terms. Husk is more privy to Alastor’s family life, but he respects Alastor’s privacy regarding that topic. He’s seen plenty of proof that Alastor is still human and deeply mourning the loss of his family. Nifty is still Nifty.

In this AU, the fight between Alastor and Vox still happened. Being heavily injured, he was found by Lilith/or Roo (still deciding), and forced into a deal. He kept a low-profile recovering from his wounds for a while and kept to himself; mainly researching to find loopholes to get out of his forced deal.

He only happened upon Charlie by accident, about 3 or 4 years before the show’s cannon. The timing didn’t seem right and he wanted to ignore her, and failed miserably. And that’s how he became a reluctant stand-in dad, whom Charlie will always contact occasionally, discreetly. It’s still a way for Alastor to get more close enough to weasel a deal from Charlie in the future.

Alastor does help with the Hotel and still enjoys being a dick. But he’s well-meaning in his own a$$hole-y way. He insists on taking care of most meals, because commercialized, instant food are the worst things to happen since sliced bread (his words). Barry becomes a 3rd guest, but mainly there to boost morale at the hotel.

The beef with Lucifer is a bit more personal. Not only is Alastor asserting himself in control as the primary trustworthy influence in Charlie’s life, but he’s also pissed that the most powerful being in Hell is a pathetic, weak-minded shut-in who has done nothing. Alastor is slightly pissed on Charlie’s behalf that Lucifer chose to be an absentee-father and give Charlie the impression that she was unwanted. The 3 years where Charlie would choose to send letters and phone-calls to Alastor more frequently than her own father, says a lot about the daddy-issues.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

A Mother's Cooking

Words: 2117

Kakashi couldn’t believe it.

His mother had walked right up and informed him that he would be having dinner at her place for the third time that week. It wasn’t a request or even a suggestion, but a stated fact. She had given him a time, told him what they would be eating, and then walked off before he could even begin to ask who had agreed to all of this on his behalf.

Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to figure out the answer. There was only one person in all of Konoha, possibly the world, who would willingly subject themselves to his mother’s cooking.

Finding the culprit, otherwise known as his loving but ridiculous boyfriend, had proven to be an easy task. Anyone who didn’t know the man would have wandered aimlessly through the village searching, but Kakashi knew his chakra signature better than anyone else’s.

Better yet, he knew exactly where his boyfriend liked to hide for a few blissful minutes of peace when he wasn’t working. It was a spot that Kakashi had found him tucked away in on multiple occasions in the past, usually when there was someone that he needed to hide from.

Arriving at the spot, Kakashi reached out and knocked on the giant oak tree that watched over the Hokage’s mansion. “Yo,” he grinned when a pair of eyes appeared on the tree trunk. “Naruto bothering you again?”

“No,” an answer came short and quick, followed by a pause and then a sigh. “Yes.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No,” a sharp response emitted from the tree, causing a passing couple to stop and stare for just a moment before scurrying off with hurried whispers. “he’s just being, you know-“

“Naruto?”

“Yes,” the eyes vanished for a moment, and in the next second Kakashi found himself face to face with a Tenzo who looked like he’d aged five years since they last saw each other. “How do you do it, Senpai?”

“Ear plugs and a special talent for ignoring what’s going on around me,” he answered with a half shrug. “Oh, also I have this really gullible boyfriend who-“

A hand sprang out of the tree and came down hard against Kakashi’s mouth. “Shut up, Senpai,” Tenzo growled as a little vein in his forehead bulged. Kakashi’s gaze was drawn to that vein immediately. A tiny spot on Tenzo’s gorgeous face that showed his annoyance better than any of his over exaggerated expressions.

That’s what Kakashi thought, at least. He wouldn’t dare say anything out loud. If Tenzo knew about that tiny ‘blemish’ he’d start fretting over it. He might even think of a way to hide it, and that was the last thing Kakashi wanted to happen.

“You’re staring,” raising an eyebrow he watched as Tenzo examined his face, his eyes searching for something. “What is it?”

Gesturing toward the hand still covering his mouth, Kakashi watched and waited as his partner took a moment to examine his face, no doubt searching for any hints of mischief in Kakashi’s eyes, before finally removing his hand.

Once the hand was gone and he was free to speak again, he immediately took the opportunity to completely ignore Tenzo’s question and focused instead on the reason he had come here in the first place.

“Dinner” he stated, smirking when Tenzo cringed. It was clear that his partner knew exactly what he had done wrong without even having to be reprimanded for it. “at my mother’s for the, what? Fifth time this week?”

Shame.

That was the expression that he saw on Tenzo’s face as he directed his eyes toward the ground.

 “It’s only three,” Tenzo mumbled.

“Three dinner’s at my mother’s place still feels like a bit…much,” not that he hated being around his mother. In fact, if they were going to her place but he was cooking he would have no complaints at all.

The problem was her cooking. That was a specific skill that Kakashi had learned from cookbooks and a whole lot of failed attempts, and not his mother.

“I just thought it would be nice,” Tenzo grumbled out an answer. “A relaxing night where you don’t have to cook. You can just sit back and enjoy the evening.”

“I would prefer to cook,” Kakashi argued. “I usually like flavor in my food.”

“As do I, but-“

 “Are you sure about that?” narrowing his eyes, he shook his head when Tenzo averted his gaze. “I’m starting to think that you like her cooking.”

No answer. Tenzo simply stared off into the distance refusing to even look at him.

It was then that everything clicked into place. After eating his mother’s cooking far more than he would ever willingly volunteer to do so, it all finally made sense.

“You do,” a smile stretched across his lips. The type of smile that he knew would terrify Tenzo. ‘The predator’s smile’ is what Gai and all of their other friends called it, but Tenzo simply refereed to it as a ‘bully’s grin’.

As soon as he noticed the look on Kakashi’s face, Tenzo visibly tensed up. His shoulder’s tightened, forcing him to straighten up against the tree. At the same time his mouth thinned into a tight line that pinched upwards into his left cheek. “Senpai…”

Jabbing a finger into his partner’s forehead, Kakashi dared to smile a little wider, causing his eyes to scrunch up in the corners. “You like my mother’s bland food. Admit it.”

“I-“ panic took over and Tenzo’s eyes widened with a fear that Kakashi knew all too well. A fear of being found out. The only thing that could truly terrify a man who had been groomed from a young age to die for his village.

Another jab of his finger forced Tenzo to tilt his head back into the tree. A lot thunk rang through the air when his head made contact with the tree trunk, followed by a small pained groan.

“Sorry,” reaching out toward him, Kakashi threaded his finger’s through his hair and settled his hand against the back of his head. A protective barrier between him and the tree trunk that had so rudely hurt him. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Tenzo’s lips curled upwards into a soft smile. A smile which seemed to grow a little wider when Kakashi began rubbing his thumb over the wounded area. “Never been better, actually.”

Over the years Kakashi had heart his fair share of horse-shit, but this one took the cake. There was nothing in the world, not even his boyfriends sweet smile, that could convince him that this single moment was the best Tenzo had ever experienced in his life.

If it was, Kakashi about about to ruin it.

“So,” the smile dropped off of Tenzo’s face at record speeds. “You really like my mother’s cooking?”

His eyes focused on the left pouch in Kakashi’s chest, and then the arm beside his head, and finally came to settle onto Kakashi’s face. With a deep breath and a stern look, Tenzo finally offered an answer to the question Kakashi had been bothering him with for the last three minutes. “Yes, I do.”

“More than mine?” Kakashi pushed, a little offended by the idea that his boyfriend could possibly prefer his mother’s bland cooking over the dishes he worked so hard to create for him. They might not be chef restaurant quality food, but they had to be better than whatever his mother cooked up. Her food lacked any flavor and turned out so bland when it was done that even Kakashi couldn’t handle it, and he liked food that didn’t overwhelm his sensitive taste buds.

“I don’t like it more than yours,” Tenzo assured him, thought Kakashi struggled to believe it when he once again refused to meet his eyes. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” He pushed, refusing to let Tenzo get away without providing an adequate answer to why he was being tortured.

“Well, I just-“ his eyes scanned the area around them searching for an escape. “Well-“

“Tenzo,” curling his fingers into the short brown locks at the back of Tenzo’s head, he gave a gentle tug. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that Tenzo finally focused his gaze on him and only him. “Talk to me.”

Silence fell between them. Kakashi waiting for an answer while Tenzo thought of what exactly he was going to say. When five minutes of waiting passed, Kakashi leaned in close and brushed his nose against Tenzo’s. An action that was immediately rewarded with a whimpered ‘Senpai’ and Tenzo’s nose crinkling up like an annoyed rabbit. “Tenzo.”

“It’s comforting.”

Pulling back, Kakashi stared at Tenzo with wide eyes. “I’m sorry?”

Another minute of silence, followed by a deep sigh that seemed to run through Tenzo’s whole body forcing his muscles to relax. “It’s comforting,” he repeated. “Eating your mother’s cooking is like being at home. Safe and warm and…loved.”

Loved.

Kakashi didn’t think of it often, but he understood the feeling Tenzo was talking about. It wasn’t the same feeling that came with quiet knights wrapped up in each other’s arms or precious moment’s stolen away in a hospital room after a difficult mission.

This was a special feeling. An experience one had when they were gifted with a loving parent.

For Kakashi, it struck whenever he had mochi. A rare treat he enjoyed not for the flavor, but for the memories that came with it. Memories of parents that surrounded him with their love, and of a father that he lost far too soon.

Tenzo finally had a place where he felt that love. A home to return to with a parental figure who genuinely cared about him and wasn’t simply using him for their own personal gain. That person just so happened to be Kakashi’s mother, aka the second worst cook in Konoha after Shikaku.

“In that case,” dropping his hand to the side, Kakashi took a step back and offered his lover a cheerful smile. “You have fun eating the blandest food in all of Konoha. I’m going out with Gai for some sushi.”

“But-“

“No, no,” he gave a short, dismissive wave. “You go enjoy yourself. I may not have a large flavor palette compared to other’s but I do enjoy when my food at least tastes like something.”

Tenzo’s eyes narrowed into an expression that Kakashi knew all too well. Annoyance was the easiest way to describe it, but there was a hint of fondness that seemed to only shine through when it was Kakashi he was annoyed with.

“You’re the worst.”

“True,” he agreed without hesitation. “But you knew that when you chose to ask me out.”

Fondness quickly overwhelmed all other emotions, washing away any hints of irritation that had been on Tenzo’s face just seconds ago. A smile, small and sweet, stretched across his face creating dimples that pushed up into his cheeks.

“Yes, I did,” he agreed. “So, Dinner tomorrow?”

Stepping forward once more, Kakashi leaned in close and pressed a kiss against Tenzo’s forehead, right over his Happuri.

“Tomorrow,” he confirmed after pulling back. “You can even invite my mother if you’d like, but I’m cooking.”

Raising both hands, Tenzo held them up beside his head in a show of surrender. “You can cook.”

With that settled, Kakashi tucked a finger under the top of his mask and yanked it down. In the blink of an eye he leaned in to steal a quick kiss before stepping back and returning his mask to its rightful place while Tenzo stared at him like a love sick puppy who’d been deprived of sufficient amounts of love.

A problem that Kakashi would happily rectify later.

“Buy,” he waved, chuckling when Tenzo rolled his eyes at him. “Try not to have too much fun.”

“Say’s you,” came a firm reply. “Don’t go destroying any more business’ because of some competition. I don’t think your pay cheque could handle another repair bill.”

A fair warning, but one which Kakashi had no intention of paying any attention to. After all, what was the fun in being careful when he was in the heat of a competition with Gai? Where was the risk if he couldn’t trip his best friend mid race and send him tumbling into a restaurant to destroy everything in his path.

With one final wave of his hand and a cheerful goodbye, he was off. The wind in his hair and Tenzo’s voice calling after him as he made his way toward the Jonin accommodations where he hoped to find his best friend waiting for something exciting to fall into his lap.

The ‘something exciting’ of course being Kakashi.

[kimpossibly]

🪐 + wednesday + comforting

AUTHOR'S NOTE: HI YES I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. Prompts like this just...UGH I EAT these up. So funny story, I started writing this and realized I didn't determine if there was an established relationship between Y/n and Wednesday, so I ended up writing two versions! Hope that's alright with you anon :) Thank you for participating in my celebration and I hope you enjoy!

PAIRING: Wednesday Addams x GN!Reader WARNINGS: mentions of an argument, mentions of Wednesday wanting to commit murder on the reader's behalf

VER. 1 — NO ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

It's no secret that comforting others is not one of Wednesday's strong suits. The very concept of emotions is nearly alien to her, meaning that when she found you crying in one of Nevermore's more echoey and deserted stairwells, she didn't know quite what she was about to get herself into.

Since she had a habit of standing so still she failed to make her presence known, you just about jumped when you saw her black boots a few steps below you. "Wednesday!" you exclaimed, more instinctive than to greet her. "Sorry, am I in your way?"

You shuffled over to the side of the stairwell to give her space to move past you, but she stayed right where she was. "I came to see if you were alright," she said, already feeling that she was traversing on unknown land. "But I guess I don't need to ask."

You sniffed, using a sweatshirt-covered palm to wipe away the tears that had trickled down your cheeks while you spoke. "Yeah, um...Xavier and I got in a fight. A bad one. He's been my best friend for years and we've never had one this bad. I just...I'm worried he's never going to talk to me again."

"In my experience, Xavier can be a stubborn mule when he wants to be."

You paused, nodding at her words as more tears spilled over. Wednesday cringed invisibly. That might have been the wrong thing to say. She surprised herself by moving to sit by you, hands resting stoically in her lap. "But, for some reason or other, he chooses to follow you around like a lost puppy. I doubt one argument could put an end to that."

That, surprisingly, seemed to help. You nodded again. "I probably just need to give him time." you said quietly, more to yourself than to Wednesday.

She didn't reply, but she refused to get up. Wednesday isn't the type to give hugs or hold hands, but she would stay there until you felt better. And even though it was odd to see a new side of Wednesday Addams, you were grateful for her silent support nonetheless.

VER. 2 — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

When Wednesday found you crying in the stairwell, she was ready commit a gruesome murder. You looked up at her, eyes red and cheeks tear-stained, and she was ready to take a baseball bat to the head of whoever put you that way. "Who did this?" she demanded.

"Wednesday—"

"Y/n."

"Can you please just leave it alone?" you cried, looking up at her with desperate eyes. That got Wednesday to stop. You had never used a tone quite like that, at least not to her.

So Wednesday said nothing as she sat down beside you, staring straight ahead. She had figured out that it was often best to let you take the leads on these sorts of things, but she held out an open hand to you without otherwise acknowledging it. You looked at her, but she was still staring straight ahead. So you carefully laced your fingers with hers and your hands dropped down to your sides, Wednesday giving you a little squeeze.

More tears rushed to your eyes and spilled over, but you tried not to let her see them. She saw them anyway as she flicked her eyes to you momentarily. Instead of saying anything, she shifted closer to you, again without saying a thing. You took that cue and laid your head on her shoulder, sniffing quietly.

After a moment of you two just sitting there, your head on her shoulder, hands intertwined, you spoke: "Thank you, Wednesday."

She felt some sort of rush of pride there, knowing that she had done this right. But she replied in her regular, monotone voice, "This stays between us."

And you just laughed. "Of course it does, love."

[joheun-saram]

“Is your refrigerator running?” (jjk)

Summary- Who knew the annoying prank calls you were receiving would become the favourite part of your day.

word count- 4.2k

pairing- fratboy!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG-13

genre- fluff, collegeau

warnings- none! just stupid jokes.

a.n- Part of my drabbles for @btsholidaybingo​, ticking off the Prank Calls tile! I’ll be posting these every week or so as I get them done. Check out the other drabbles here :)

s/o to the beautiful @heyitsmeee2​ for beta reading and helping me fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

-

“So how’s your new boyfriend?” Namjoon asked you as you chewed on your fries, almost choking at his insinuition. He laughs at you as he takes a sip of his milkshake, slurping obnoxiously, his eyes widening as he concentrates on the flavour.

“Stop! He’s just a random guy with too much time on his hands! I don’t even know his name! Although...” You stared at your burger, trying to forget what your roommate was alluding to. Two months ago you had started getting phone calls from a stranger. It wasn't something from a horror movie, don't worry. It was harmless. He would call you at random times in the day to ask you silly questions. You don’t know how he even got your number but there was something about his easy going nature and lame jokes that made you want to continue talking to him. Namjoon suspected it was a byproduct of your loneliness, but it was comforting hearing his voice to break through your mundane day to day. 

"Hi, is this Y/N?" A deep voice spoke as you picked up the call from an unknown number.

"Yes this is she. Who is this?" You asked as you sat up straighter, your attention diverting from the paper you were writing. You had applied to eight jobs for after graduation and you were sure this was a call for an interview, even though it was 10 pm. Your eyes lit up as you hoped this was the big consulting firm you were waiting to hear from.

"I have a very important question that I was hoping you could help me with."

"Um.. sure go ahead." You fiddled with your pen, scribbling random shapes on your notebook, feeling somewhat nervous. Is this how employers usually talked? Did they do this to build anticipation?

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Is your refrigerator running?" 

"Are you calling on behalf of the landlord?" Your voice was flat with disappointment. Surely, this was not an important question. Oh how you wished it was an interview call. You sighed.

"Please answer my question."

"Yes. It's running."

"Then you better go catch it, shouldn't you?"

And with that he hung up and you were baffled. Which decade was this dude from? Who does these lame prank calls anyway and more importantly why does your caller ID not show who it is? Thinking nothing of it, you go about finishing your assignment, albeit slightly aggravated. However, the calls continue. Everyday this stranger would call you with questions, sometimes with a silly punchline but oftentimes even sillier riddles.

"Okay, dude seriously. This is getting annoying." You huffed after a week and a half of receiving calls from the same deep voiced stranger, although you’d be lying if you said his little laugh after he told his jokes was not endearing.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to annoy you." He seemed hurt and you couldn’t fathom why he would be hurt over a comment a stranger made over his prank calls. In fact, you were sure this was some hobby of his and he had a rotation of strangers to bother.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" You don’t know why you were indulging him, but you had to give him props for constantly calling you. It was kind of becoming part of your daily routine.

"Dixie. My name's Dixie." You could hear the mirth in his tone.

"Dixie? Oh I thought you were a dude, my bad."

"I can be a dude and still have Dixie as my name. Jeez, are you a bigot?" He scolded.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean it that way, Dixie."

"That's Dixie Normus to you." He laughed at his joke, every syllable of his laugh separated as if he was a cartoon character.

"Oh my god. You're the worst!" Regardless of your words, you were laughing. Laughing hard enough to have the banana milk you were drinking to snort out of your nose, making you cough. For a moment, you were glad this stranger wasn't in the room.

"Sorry! Are you okay?" You could hear the humour in his words, shading them in anything but an apology.

And so it went, your mysterious caller, who refused to go by anything other than Dixie turned into a somewhat friend, if you can even call someone who you know no personal details about your friend. After a month the phone calls had turned from cringe worthy puns to actual conversations about your day. You had started to look forward to the unknown flashing on your screen, and sharing the mundane details of your day with Dixie.

In two months you learned a lot more about Dixie. He went to your university, he was an avid gamer, he majored in computer science, and apparently it was now part of his daily routine to call you whenever he was cooling down from his workout on the treadmill - explaining the creepy breathlessness of his voice and beeps in the background. Sometimes you had half a mind to go to the university gym during your calls and see your mysterious friend, but somehow you never found the courage. It was nice not knowing what Dixie looked like, not judging someone by their looks but just by the content of their words. There was no room for disappointment.

It also oddly comforted you that you would never meet him and during your nightly conversations you would end up sharing thoughts that you’d be too uncomfortable sharing with even your best friends. Thoughts about the uncertainty you had over graduating soon, thoughts about being sad over failed relationships, even thoughts about your random existential crisis that would plague you mid week. Dixie was empathetic and had a knack for comforting you with small jokes and his own struggles. You would never admit it to Namjoon, but Dixie was slowly becoming your closest friend, even surpassing him to a certain extent.

"You're insane you know that?" Namjoon chided as you talked about Dixie and how you considered him a friend now. Even though Namjoon was your best friend since first grade, he sometimes didn't understand why you romanticised daily events so much. He never understood why you kept giving Dixie the benefit of the doubt, why you kept picking up his phone calls even when you knew it was going to be a lame joke or two.

"I'm not insane Joon! Haven't you heard of pen pals? This is the same thing but with voice."

"Nah. I think it's your crippling loneliness. Which is why we're going to Jin's frat party tonight." Namjoon was not having any of your excuses. So what if your last relationship was a year ago. You and Yoongi were great together. He was the perfect boyfriend and after he went to LA to pursue his music career, you told him you'd wait. Turns out he wasn't on the same page as you since six months after moving, he called you to break things off. He was right though, it would have been stupid to wait for him when neither of you knew when and even if he was ever coming back. It was unfair to the both of you to keep dragging this thing along. But even if Yoongi hadn't been around the last year and a half, you just couldn't see yourself with anyone else. You still missed talking to him every night and sharing your day, laughing at stupid videos together or just listening to him playing the piano through the static line of your phone. Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe you were lonely and the only reason you were so attached to Dixie was because of the way his phone calls had replaced Yoongi's and how you no longer waited at the end of your day staring at your phone waiting for your ex's call but instead you received real actual calls from your voice pen pal.

You sighed agreeing with Namjoon and went home, not exactly looking forward to the party and missing Dixie’s call.

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

Jin's frat was notorious for the wildest parties on campus. It was always a cacophony of drunk students and a pit of hedonism. When Namjoon and you arrived, the party was in full swing and you thanked your best friend for having the foresight of pre-drinking. The bottle of grapefruit soju you had emptied earlier at your shared apartment ensured that you were not put off by the plethora of drunk guys trying to hit on you microseconds after you entered.

Looking for Jin and let's be honest, a little gin as well, you and Namjoon made your way to the kitchen, to be greeted by your tall friend doing a keg stand. Beer dripped down his chin as his fraternity brothers held him up, his feet almost touching the ceiling. As you poured yourself a gin and tonic, Jin climbed down from the keg to a chorus of applause. Much to your chagrin, he walked over, draping his arms around your shoulders and plastering your back with his beer soaked chest.

"Ew get off me you vermin!" You squealed, shivering in the gross feeling, your backless top doing nothing to shield you from your friend’s shirt as he refused to budge.

"Vermin? VERMIN?! I invite you to my house, give you free drinks, and an array of decent dicks to pick from and I'm the vermin?" Jin finally detaches, giving you a scowl as he leans against the kitchen island, pouring himself what you gather is his tenth drink of the night.

"Jin all of these guys are as gross as you. And I've told you I don't need to get laid!"

"Sure tell that to your vibrator working overtime."

"How did you even - " you sputered, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Namjoon, obviously. And before you kill him, there are no secrets between friends and part-time lovers." He winked, making you roll your eyes. Namjoon and Jin had been on and off since the beginning of freshmen year, neither the type for commitment but to your dismay loved to tell you all about their rollercoaster of a relationship. You swear you could write a thesis on dysfunctional relationships using theirs as a case study.

"Ew. Please stop. I don't need to know about you and Joon getting it on."

"Well then let me introduce you to someone so you can get it on." He wiggled his eyebrows puckering his lips to annoy you. 

"I know all your brothers Jin and no thank you." You lightly slapped his lips making him groan as he grabbed your wrist continuing his tirade. You’d be lying if you said his frat brothers had never caught your eye - they were famous for their astoundingly good looks, in fact there even seemed to be an instagram page dedicated to people randomly spotting them on campus (@betatauinthewild). However, their good looks did not make up for the fact that they were a bunch of loud fuckboys. You loved Jin and Namjoon and would literally stab anyone who said anything against them but you had to agree that they were the biggest players of the group, finding a new person to bed almost every weekend. That is, unless they were with each other - case and point their dysfunctional relationship.

"Well we have a new brother and he's my little brother. He's a sophomore, he just joined, and he's your type. The whole quiet but nice guy type." Jin continued, ignoring you in typical fashion.

"I don't have a type."

"Please! As if Yoongi wasn’t a cookie cutter tsundere. Come on let me introduce you to him!" He grabbed your shoulder and pleaded, pouting and widening his eyes in the most adorable puppy dog face you had seen him pull.

"Can we not talk about Yoongi please." You sighed. You finished your drink and proceeded to pour another one. 

"Yes! Let's talk about JK!"

"Jin... come on. Let's just drink okay?"

"Fine but I'm telling you, you'll get along. He's a great guy."

An hour into the party, you had lost both Jin and Namjoon and were getting tired of Jin’s exceedingly drunk frat brothers trying their pick up lines of the day on you. Your head was hurting from the noise of the party and you were sure if you saw another couple subtly trying to test their exhibitionism kink you were going to puke. So as it was typical for whenever you went to these parties, you started to make your way to Jin’s room. Jin may be loud and obnoxious and being lusted after by pretty much the entire campus, but he was reliable for one thing: he never fucked where he slept. And so his room became a sort of sanctuary for you when these parties would get too much.

You made your way up the stairs almost tripping over two guys who had decided that making out horizontally on the stairs was a good idea - you did not envy how busted their backs would be tomorrow. Punching in the code you walked in to find that there was already someone there, reclined on the bed with his arms behind his head, earphones in, humming gently as he stared at the ceiling. You had never seen him before, but boy did you wish you did. His dark hair was splayed over the pillows, a smile ghosting his full lips. He was dressed in all black, much like you but unlike your lace bodysuit and skinny jeans, he was wearing a boxy back t shirt with ripped jeans, his feet in those questionable toe socks. And he was buff, even though his body was mostly covered you could make out the muscle in his arms, one of which had intricate tattoos etched on to. You’re unaware how long you stared at this stranger, but suddenly he turns his face looking at you. Seeing you there he immediately jumps up, pulling his earphones out, startling you in turn.

“I- I’m sorry. Y-you can’t be h-here,” he stutters out, a soft blush rising up his cheeks as he nervously pulls at his ear.

“I should be saying that to you. Why are you in Jin’s room?” You shut the door, leaning on it, feeling oddly territorial.

“I- Hyung needed my room.” You found the stuttering boy in front of you endearing. Something about how he bashfully stared at anything but you while speaking made you want to hug him. 

“Oh my god! You let him into your room? Drunk during a party?” You almost scream, but lower your voice seeing the alarm on his face. Walking over, you sat next to him, a few feet away so as not to make him uncomfortable. “Do you like doing laundry or something?” you joked.

Hearing your question the boy perks up, looking at you with a bright smile that made your heart skip a beat. “I do actually! How did you know?” he asks excitedly. You almost felt bad bursting his bubble.

“I didn’t… It’s just - you know Jin’s probably having sex in there right?” You look at the abject horror on his face in sympathy, so you try to change the subject. “Nevermind. Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding. I just got bored. Everyone there just wants to hook up or get blackout drunk.”

“You do realise which frat you’re part of right?”

“I know,” he chuckles, seemingly more relaxed as he lays down on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “I honestly didn’t even wanna join but I’m a legacy so my dad really wanted me to be a part of it, Beta Tau pride and all.”

“Not to be a bitch, but dude you sound like a protagonist of a shitty college romcom,” you laugh looking down at him as he smiles, crossing your legs on the bed as you turn towards him, forcing yourself to ignore how cute he looks from this angle.

“You think you’re being a bitch, but that's a great compliment. I wish my life was a romcom. It’d be so easy…”

“Okay, emo. What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

“Hey I don’t even know your name! What have you got to lose?”

“Fine. There’s this girl I like and we always call each other… Well I call her.... at this time, but she didn’t pick up. So yes I’m emo, and yes I wish I was in a romcom so I’d go downstairs and randomly run into her.” He looks at you with a sad smile, shrugging slightly, and you feel yourself deflate. Not that you were interested in him or anything. You were sure it was just the alcohol in your system making you feel extra empathetic. Yup that’s it.

“Hey, that’s not stupid,” you say gently. “What if she’s down there did you check?”

“Well… I don’t actually know what she looks like… So, no…”

“Oh then maybe you should call her again! What if she was busy?”

“I don’t wanna be pushy, you know? I’m not even sure she thinks of me the same-”

“YO DIXIE! You in there?” A loud knock booms through the room accompanied by a deep voice. The attractive stranger next to you rolls his eyes before standing up, and at hearing his nickname you feel your heart kickstart, racing as you blink in disbelief. It can’t be…

“Dixie?” you stutter out.

“What’s up dude?” He opens the doors talking to Taehyung, one of the other Beta Tau brothers, as they start talking about something. You can barely hear their conversation, your brain full of scenarios and questions, your face crimson. You never thought you’d meet Dixie in real life. Do you tell him? Do you just run away? Why did he have to be so hot?!

Taehyung notices you on the bed for the first time and in typical fashion starts hollering and high-fiving Dixie. “Damn dude! The president’s best friend! Good for you!” He snickered as Dixie looked at him with his mouth agape, before turning to you. “Ay Y/N. Treat our boy JK well okay? He’s too nice for you!”

“Fuck off hyung!” JK, apparently that’s his name, shoves Taehyung as he grins widely before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and shutting the door, seemingly getting all that he came for.

“You’re Dixie…?” You stare up at him, standing up as you try to control the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around him. Fuck, maybe Joon was right you did have a crush on your voice pen pal.

“I- Y/N?” He looks at you, mirroring your wide eyes. “The same Y/N I’ve been talking to?”

“Call me,” you almost whisper.

“What?”

“Call me so I know it’s real.” You move closer holding your phone up as he pulls his out of his pocket to dial your number. Your phone rings, displaying a set of numbers instead of unknown for the first time, and the two of you just stare at the vibrating device in your hand. It seems like time stood still, the air thick with tension as your shitty ringtone bounces off the walls. That is until you start laughing. Not giggling, full on laughing, holding your stomach as tears spill down your face, as JK looks at you in alarm, his arms hovering near you as you double over.

“Holy shit! You are the protagonist of a romcom!” You finally wheeze out as you hold his arm for support, while he looks at you with a frown. You’re unsure why this was your reaction, but you recover quickly to start your interrogation.

“So what’s your name Dixie or JK?”

“Jungkook, actually. Dixie’s my gamertag and JK is just what Jin hyung calls me.”

“How did you get my number?”

“Umm… I might have stolen it from hyung’s phone…”

“Why?”

“Because he prank called my friends first.” He spoke with a pout, and you swear your heart forgot to function.

“Why keep calling?”

“Really Y/N? You’re gonna interrogate me?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Keep talking Dixie!” You chuckled as his shy demeanor gave way to the Dixie, well the Jungkook, you knew. It was weird how fast the earlier awkwardness dissipated into comfort.

“What? I thought you sounded pretty! Sue me!” He shrugged, leaning back against the door, his hands in his pocket. Your eyes followed the movement, momentarily distracted by how his forearms flexed. Clearing your throat, you continued as he smirked, not missing the way your eyes seemed to be roaming his body.

“You said you were trying to call the girl you like. So you like me?” You try to sound as matter of fact as you could, but your voice wavered slightly at the last part as you made the mistake of looking at his face. He tilted his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes that were boring holes into you, his smirk getting larger. Oh how you wished he turned back into the boy talking about how much he liked laundry.

“I thought it was obvious. I call you every night.” He stood straight, taking a step towards you causing heat to creep up your face at his sudden confidence. You don’t respond as he moves closer, causing his steps to falter. “Do you like me?” he asks, his voice a little smaller. You’re getting whiplash from the changes in his tone, but his question makes you feel warm. You haven’t felt this way in a long time, there’s butterflies in your stomach, your hands feel clammy, and you’re sure you can feel the heat off his body, so aware of where he stands merely inches away from you.

“I think so…” you move closer and he raises his hand as if to hold your hip but stops, hovering just centimeters away as looks at you, his gaze smouldering.

“What’ll make you sure of it?” he asks in a whisper, and before you can even comprehend the question, you are leaning up on your toes to press a light kiss against his lips. His lips are slightly chapped and you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat through them. Your skin tingles where he brings his hand on your hip, gently holding you. He doesn’t push you further, just leans his forehead on yours when you separate to whisper quietly, “This.”

“And?” His nose brushes against yours as you place your hand on his chest, his pounding heart mimicking yours. He slowly rubs his hands on your hips where they lay, and it’s like your skin is electrified.

“I’m sure,” you say as he crashes his lips on yours, pulling you closer as your arms snake around his neck. His reaction is much stronger this time as he moves his lips against yours feverently. He pulls you flush against him, your body molding against his hard muscles. His hands grip at your hips as he licks lightly at your lip, groaning as they part. It seems like he can’t decide what to do with his hands, roaming them over your sides, relishing the little moan you make as one of them cups your ass. His earlier shyness disappears, and who are you to resist him, as your hands in his hair pull him closer. It’s like everything finally makes sense, why you could never ignore his calls, why your heart raced whenever you heard him call your name through the static of your speaker. You had spent this whole time convincing yourself that he was just a stranger you could vent to when it was clear to you now that you were falling for him.

He whispers your name as you break apart, but his mouth continues down your jaw to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. His teeth drag across your collarbone, and you whimper at the way he soothes it with his tongue as you press your body even closer into his.

“Hey Y/N! Joon’s looking for you!”

The two of you break apart at the interruption, chest heaving and faces flushed. Looking up at Jungkook, you smile as he looks away shyly, his lip caught between his teeth, before turning to your best friend who is excitedly hopping in the doorway.

“I knew you would get along with JK!” Jin exclaims as you look once again at Jungkook before you both break out in a laugh. Trust Jin to know who you’d fall for before you. He comes up to pat his frat brother on the shoulder before his proud smile turns into a glare, warning the two of you that his room was for sleeping only and abruptly kicking you out. 

The two of you giggle as you make your way downstairs, unable to keep your hands off of each other, going from holding hands to hugging to sneaking kisses in the kitchen as you make your drinks. Before the night ends the two of you end up sitting in the backyard, kissing under the stars and planning your first date later that week, even though it felt like you had known each other an eternity.

You had never felt luckier to pick up a random phone call.

[maxiemumdamage]

Aaaand Snarly (my mother) has gotten to the Rostelecom Cup! This is the one I’m most excited for, just cause there’s so many new characters.

TIS THE SEASON FOR YURI PARALLELS

She laughs when Yuri calls himself the Ice Tiger

She was very worried by the Grandpa’s back giving out at the fly tackle, and distressed when Nikolai worried about if the piroshki were good.

“Say they’re delicious you little bitch!”

Cringed when I told her “Sala” is a mistranslation of Sara.

She GASPED when Seung-Gil Lee was being rude to Sara.

She snorted at JJ’s little finger guns. And then I told her it was his initials.

She’s worried for Phichit, since he might not make it to the final. And it’s not like he has plot armor to guarantee it — he’s a minor character in the end.

Laughing at the Nishigori triplets antics.

“Is it racist for a South Korean man to skate to some Mexican bullfighting kind of song?” (Right off the bat when Seung-Gil starts skating)

Snarly found the discussion of sexual performance inflation funny. I think. She snorted, at least.

She was so worried when Seung-Gil fell! I get the feeling she hates seeing any of the skaters fail.

Re: Emil — “Why does he have the beard? It’s pubic hair.”

She loved Viktor being cold to JJ.

During Michele’s skate:

“Am I getting weird incest-y vibes with these super close ups?” (About the Crispinos. She’s totally right.)

“VILE.”

“Oh god he’s hateful.”

She did like the note about Michele doing his sister’s signature combination jump. She also gagged when he said they would ‘be together forever.’

She liked Sara talking about how Mickey needed to be able to fight on his own.

She was so sad when Yurio realized his Grandpa wasn’t coming.

She got sad when she saw Makkachin by himself staring at the buns. I don’t know how she’ll cope cause it gets WORSE.

Reiterating the point about the Nishigori triplets being Nara characters.

She loved Yuuri’s little dramatic flirting moment with Viktor.

“Well if he doesn’t if he doesn’t advance to the Grand Prix, the shows over.” (When Yuuri thinks about how he needs fourth place at minimum)

She loves Lilia’s “supervillain lady look.”

She’s SO SAD about Yurio not having his Grandpa there. Constant wailing or whimpering on his behalf.

“What are we gaping at?” (When Yurio comes out in his costume)

“Oh gross” (When Viktor does the skate kiss)

“It’s good that we’re invested in more than one character.” “So you like Yurio??” “I didn’t say I like him, I’m just invested.”

Though when he fell on the axel she said “oh, baby.”

She thinks the animation is better in closeup.

“Aw, kitties!”

When JJ make the ‘ladies first’ crack to Yurio she called JJ a “homophobic fuck.” Here, here!!

She laughed at Yurio’s little pouty stance.

And at all JJ’s inane drama about his “aesthetic.”

Mocking the lyrics to Theme of King JJ. It grew on me, but it really is ridiculous the first time you hear it.

“I keep hoping he’ll skate into a wall.”

Gagged when he kissed the ice. “I hope it’s like licking a pole and his tongue gets stuck there.”

“OH NO” when we find out about Makka.

“Why would they tell him? What can he do about it now?” (I reminded her about Vicchan once it ended. She was even more distressed.)

She laughed at their collective shock and horror at the idea of Yakov coaching Yuuri.

And for episode nine:

She thought it was cute when Viktor said to hug Yakov if he needed help.

She already thought the Grandpa was sweet before she saw the Katsudon pirosky. She thought it was so cute!

“Maybe not now???” (about Sara’s intervention with Michele)

“Her timing is not great”

Michele: *Yuuri looks like a closet pervert* Mom: “He’s one to talk”

She HATES the sibling incest. She said “I might have to hide in the other room.”

She likes Mila’s hair

Eyerolls at the sibling incest.

“They both have purple eyes. Anime logic.”

Michele: *this is goodbye, Sara* My Mom: “She’s your sister. You will see her again.”

“Whats with the sparkly gloves?”

“Ew, girl!” (At the start of Sara’s conversation with Mickey)

She really likes the smash cuts from skaters being super serious to the food plates. She thinks it’s funny

She likes Yurio’s hairdo and his skate decorations.

“Nice! …I can’t believe I’m commenting on this like it’s an actual skater.”

“Oh, no!!” (when Yurio says he’s tired)

She thinks the Katsudon nickname is very funny.

I started learning a little Japanese since my first watch of the show, so now I can appreciate just how dickish it was for JJ to call Yurio “Yuri-chan.” But that’s for another time.

“Put in your earplugs, dude” (to Yuuri)

She’s so worried about Yuuri throughout the performance. She said she agreed with him sending Viktor away, since he’d be so guilty if he didn’t, but clearly it had consequences.

“Is he doing good?”

Laughing at Yakov’s glare. A lot of faces made at Yakov’s scary lecture though.

She thought the hug was cute though!

She guessed JJ’s “king” line before it happened.

“It’s kind of funny having the bad guy be Canadian. No one makes Canadians the bad guys.”

Me: He’s the token straight along with Georgi. (My mom: “who?”) Me: the crying one with the eyeliner.

“Please fall. Please fall. Please fall.”

Laughing like crazy at Yuuri’s hugging rampage, but also some cooing.

“It’s funny seeing Yuuri wearing a mask, since this was made pre-pandemic.”

She laughs at Yurio’s little raging, but thought him comforting Yuuri was adorable. And the Katsudon pirosky!

She was relieved that Makkachin lived.

“In real life that dog would be jumping on them.”

She got worried when Yuuri asked Viktor to coach him until he retired, saying “but what if he wants to skate again?” OH HONEY. Can’t decide if I should remind her Yuuri wanted this to be his last season…

“THERE WE GO!!” when Makka leans in on the hug.

Overall really positive reactions to this one! Snarly loved the skating, and the new characters and relationship development are so strong.

She had pretty much the exact same reactions to the Crispinos and Yurio’s development and to JJ that I did when I first watched the series, so I figure she’ll enjoy seeing how the latter develop further in Barcelona.

I’m so excited for her to watch the next episode—since the power imbalance about Viktor being Yuuri’s coach is the main thing she dislikes about their relationship, I’m hoping the episode ten reveal will change her mind.

[snowdice]

2am Texts (Part 2/2) [Sometimes Labels Shift Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Logan, Virgil & Roman, Roman & Logan, Patton/Logan

Characters: Virgil, Logan, Roman, Patton

Summary: Virgil gets a text from Roman at 2am asking to be picked up from a party.

Notes: Alcohol mentioned, sad roman

This takes place after my story Sometimes Labels Fail.

Logan looked over at the boy standing nervously in his living room. He did not look like his usual jovial (and honestly slightly annoying) self. He looked… downtrodden. “Are you alright?” Logan asked once again.

Roman glanced up at him. “I’m fine,” he bit out even though from context and his body language, Logan could guess he was not ‘fine’ at all.

Logan tilted his head to scrutinize him. “Did something happen to you?”

Tears built up in his eyes but didn’t fall, and Logan internally cursed, wondering if he should get Patton. “No,” he said. “I’m just… stupid.”

That triggered an automatic response. “That isn’t true,” Logan said. He’d forgotten for a moment that this wasn’t his child self-deprecating. Still, it was no less factual in this case.

“Sure,” Roman said, his lip twisted up into a smile that edged more on a sneer.

Logan paused. “Well,” he said, “whatever happened, and obviously something happened Roman, I would say that asking for help to get out of the situation is not something a ‘stupid’ person would do. Though,” he said, “I would appreciate if you didn’t try to get my 16-year-old son to sneak out in the middle of the night next time.”

“Yeah,” Roman said with a cringe. “Sorry.”

Logan waved him off. “While admittedly a bit ill advised, a bit of foolhardiness is acceptable when under duress.”

Roman looked at him, seemingly taken aback. “I would have assumed you’d be yelling at me by now,” he commented. Then quieter. “I’d deserve it.”

“What did happen, Roman?”

He looked at his feet, and instead of answering, he asked, “Are you going to tell my moms?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want your parents to know about tonight?”

Roman shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I was stupid,” he replied.

“That seems more emotionally charged than factual,” Logan commented. “What did you do?”

“I…” Roman seemed to think for a moment, seeming lost. “Nothing really. I was just there, but it would look bad, and I knew I shouldn’t have gone. It was…” He trailed off.

“Is that why you texted Virgil instead of a family member?”

“Yeah.”

“They wouldn’t have been mad if you’d called them. Even if you did drink or do something ill-advised, not that drinking the cheap beer at a party like that would have done much to you considering your increased metabolism due to your superstrength.”

“I know they wouldn’t be mad,” Roman said, but there was something else too. Logan waited and Roman rubbed at a spot on his jeans nervously. “They shouldn’t have to deal with me.”

“Roman,” Logan said, hurt on his parent’s behalf. Roman winced at his tone and Logan considered it for a long moment. “I won’t tell them,” Logan finally said.

Roman’s head jerked up in surprise. “I… really?”

“You are an adult now, Roman. You can make your own decisions and, in this case, your choices didn’t seem to do you any lasting harm.”

Roman blinked at him. “But I thought you were like… lame.”

Logan couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Oh, I certainly am,” he said. “But even lame people can surprise you.”

Roman squinted at him. “You’re really not going to tattle on me?”

“No,” Logan said, “though I would very much suggest you talk to them about it yourself.”

“I… maybe.”

“What did happen, Roman?” Logan asked.

“I… it was stupid.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“No, seriously. I have superstrength for goodness sake, I would have been fine.” Logan crossed his arms and Roman’s lips twitched. “Are you dadding me?”

“Perhaps, I understand I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

Roman laughed slightly, but it faded rather quickly. “I… I just… I was asked to go to the party by a couple of people. I didn’t really want to, but they’re in a production with me and we’ve been hanging out a bit outside of practice. They invited me and I didn’t want to ruin it by not going, but then I lost them at the party and couldn’t find them. I don’t know if they left or what, but… I ended up alone. I didn’t know where it was or how to get home and they were my ride. The party was so loud, and someone dumped a drink on me to top it all off. I just… couldn’t handle it all of a sudden. I should have just walked. I mean… I have superstrength after all. It would have been fine. I just was being…” He looked at Logan and corrected himself. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“The city can be dangerous even for those who have superpowers. Asking to be picked up was a rational decision, and I would suggest you do it again if a similar situation arises. Though perhaps without trying to hide it from all adults.”

“Yeah, okay,” Roman agreed.

“I can even give you my phone number so you can call me directly, just in case.”

“Oh, okay,” Roman said, seeming surprised by the offer.

“Now, is there anything you have to be back on campus for early in the morning?”

“Uh, no. I don’t have anything tomorrow.”

“Good. I will make you a bed on the couch. When Virgil gets back with a change of clothing, you can take a quick shower.”

“Tea first,” Patton said, coming back into the room with a mug for each of them. “Sit,” he said to Roman, nodding at one of the chairs. Roman sat and accepted the tea.

“Thank you,” Roman said, looking at it.

Patton patted him on the head. “You’re okay,” Patton said soothingly when Roman leaned into the touch just a bit.

Virgil came back down the steps then with a bundle of fabric in his arms. “I think these will work. I’m also letting you borrow my hoodie, but it’s my favorite so you better give it back tomorrow,” Virgil said setting the bundle next to him. It was, in fact, Virgil’s favorite hoodie. It was the one Patton had given him when he first moved in. Logan was surprised he was willing to lend it to anyone.

Roman looked at him, his eyes saying ‘thank you,’ but his mouth said. “Do you own anything with color?”

“The pants aren’t mine,” Virgil said poking him in the chest. “And no.”

Roman laughed, the tension finally fully leaking from him. “Please let me take you shopping.”

“Hell. No.”

Want to read more? Click below!

Labeled Master Post.

My Masterpost.

[sehunniepot]

i like me better (when i’m with you) / 2 ✎

the fluffy strangers to lovers college!au in which your friends are tired of you complaining about being single and find your perfect match in the one and only campus dj, jeong jaehyun. 

author’s note: 4 pictures - written blurb - 6 pictures!! please leave a comment, i would love to hear what y’all think so far uwu)

< prev | masterlist | next >

“Jae, open the hell up! I have to pee!” Sejeong banged on the door impatiently, the loud noise startling the people on the other side. You heard a bit of scrambling before someone came to let you in. 

“Hi, sorry,” Jaehyun greeted you once the door swung open, sounding a little out of breath. His beautiful face was already flushed, cheeks and ears aglow. You took a moment to give him a once over—you couldn’t understand how someone could possibly look that good in unstyled hair, a loose shirt, and sweatpants. It was almost insulting how handsome he looked; you weren’t sure whether you wanted to slap him or kiss him. 

Not that you actually would. You weren’t close to him after all. But you were starting to think that you wanted to be. 

Acting as if she owned the place, Sejeong hastily dropped her overnight bag, the sound of the heavyweight snapping you out of your thoughts. You watched as she pushed her way through the entrance before heading to the bathroom.

“Sorry about her,” you awkwardly apologized on your roommate’s behalf. Feeling a bit reserved since it was only your second time meeting, you couldn’t really bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Hi,” he laughed, running his fingers through his thick hair. “Don’t worry about her, she does this all the time when everyone’s over. But, uh, yeah, welcome to my place? The others are here already.”

Shifting a bit to keep your duffle bag strap from falling off your shoulder, you  juggled your large container of freshly baked goods in your arms. Noticing your struggle, the male ushered you in and grabbed both the container and your bag from your hold.

“I brought some snickerdoodles,” you blurted out, gesturing to the container in his hands. You cringed at how awkward you were—god, how did you even have friends? From the corner of your eye, you saw Mark hold back a laugh and Mina slap him at his reaction. She gave you a reassuring smile, knowing how you were around new people...especially when they were good-looking strangers.

“Ah, yes. The famous snickerdoodles I keep hearing about. These happen to be my favorite cookie, you know?”

“Really now?” Your eyes twinkled just a bit and Jaehyun caught sight of it, his nose scrunching up with joy at your positive reaction.

“Yup, can’t wait to try them,” he winked, catching you off guard before dropping them off at the kitchen counter. You were surprised your knees didn’t buckle at the sight. The group of people gathered around Jaehyun’s table all snickered at your obvious reaction to his flirting. Glaring at them all didn’t stop the laughter, it only doubled it.

“Everything good?” Jaehyun asked as he came back to your side. He stood close to you, mouth curved into a polite smile that only made you flush with heat even more. 

Why was he looking at you like that?

Why did he look like that? 

God, you hated how easily flustered you were. You honestly thought it was one of your worst traits. Your best friends, on the other hand, thought it was your best one judging by the way they cackled at your reactions.

“Did I miss something?” Jaehyun’s head tilted to the side, his thick strands of hair following along with the movement. 

“Oh no, nothing! Nothing at all!” you squeaked out, voice reaching a higher level. The laughter only grew.

“Okay, I clearly missed something.”

‘Yeah, the only thing you missed was how easily affected I am by handsome boys,’ you thought to yourself. This was going to be a long night for you. 

Shortly after arriving at Jaehyun’s apartment, the group of friends dug into their dinner and poured endless amounts of soju shots. 

An hour after fooling around the dinner table, everyone made their way into the living room a bit sluggishly. The ever-so-affectionate Mina and Mark cuddled up on one corner of the couch while Sejeong claimed the other side, leaving a bowl of popcorn and an assortment of candy in the middle seat. Johnny took up the solo beanie bag with his long legs outstretched, leaving you to sit on the blanket-covered floor. You ended up covering yourself with one of Jaehyun’s extra comforters, immediately snuggling into its warmth. 

“We’re watching A New Hope first!” Johnny announced to the group as Jaehyun began to set up the movie and projector. Everyone but you and Jaehyun groaned. They weren’t into science fiction like the three of you; in fact, they could barely understand the lore and that’s what made it unbearable to watch. For you, however, watching these movies brought you a sense of comfort. Lines memorized by heart, you loved this movie for the genius it was.

Jaehyun turned off the lights and the epic opening soundtrack blasted through his Bluetooth speakers, signaling the start of the film. It never failed to send shivers down your spine.

“Ah, no complaining. This is the best Star Wars movie!” you scolded the others playfully, turning back to glare at your friends seated on the couch. Mark threw a piece of popcorn at you in retaliation.

“Agreed,” your new friend smiled at you as he sat down next to you. He gently slipped under the same blanket you were using, causing your body to freeze for just a second. Feeling a bit shy, you tugged your hood on and grabbed a pillow to hug. Digging your chin into the pillow’s softness, your eyes glued themselves into the screen. 

“Glad to see someone has taste,” you muttered into the pillow. 

“Cute,” you heard someone say beside you and you turned your head to see Jaehyun grinning at you, causing his dimples to make an appearance.

“Hey, stop shaming us and watch the movie. I’m gonna need someone to explain everything to me,” Sejeong threw another pillow at you. You stuck your tongue out at your roommate in reply before fully focusing on the sci-fi film playing. 

It wasn’t until halfway through the movie that you felt someone looking at you. You glanced to your side only to see Jaehyun giving you a soft look, a small smile in tow. The boy seemed to be a lot closer to you than he was at the start of the movie—there was only a pillow in between to separate the two of you. You buried yourself deeper into the blanket you were tucked under and clutched your pillow a little tighter out of nervousness. Touching your cold hands to your cheeks, you attempted to reduce the heat rushing to your face.

It didn’t work. You could still feel the warmth of the boy next to you, which made you burn even more.

All the while, Jaehyun did his best to hold back a chuckle at your nervous antics, finding your reactions absolutely adorable. He quite liked you and watching you from the corner of his eye, the boy made up his mind—he couldn’t wait to get to know you.

taglist: @hannie-dul-set ❣️

© sehunniepot / sehunniepotwrites, 2020-2021

[ffangirlingsince2001]

End of the Tunnel: VII

George Weasley x Reader

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: (future as well as present) suicidal thoughts, smut, angst, fluff, depression,  attempted SUICIDE, self harm, torture, mentions of torture, violence

MASTERLIST

***

Two weeks later, he was nervous for a different reason. He was not entering a cave of enemies, instead he was joining friends, but that seemed far worse. They would all stare at him when Fred’s name was announced as one those tragically lost to the war. People would pat him on the shoulder and offer the same shallow condolences they had offered at the funeral almost a year ago. All the sympathy he needed had been offered through tender touches and thoughtful gazes across a makeshift breakfast table of milkcrates. Leading up to the day she had asked him if he was okay to go. Three months ago, he never would have imagined himself going to something like this, but three months ago he didn’t have Hannah. He could handle every moment as long as she was by his side. He was even grateful he had been struck with the need to make Hannah happy and invited Malfoy. At least the weasel wouldn’t send him stares of pity across the great marble floor or whisper about him behind thick velvet curtains.

Hannah was still getting ready in their tiny bathroom, cursing every time she bumped against the lopsided shelf, he had installed to hold her absurd number of products. The time was ticking down, and Malfoy had rented a car for the two couples, and it was going to be here any minute.

“Hannah,” he called, flopping back onto the bed, wrinkles be damned.

“Coming,” she hollered back with that infinite amount of optimism one would have to possess on a night like this. The door flew open and she grinned. “Zip me?”

He would have, it would have been the polite thing to do, and it was an excellent excuse to try and seduce her into staying home, but his motor skills seemed to fail him.

She was beautiful. He had known this before, of course, but now dressed long red crushed velvet she was… breathtaking. Most of her hair was pinned to the back of her head, but a few soft, golden curls framed her face, brushing her cheeks.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a grin, dark red lipstick contrasting the whiteness of her teeth. She knew exactly what she was doing as she stepped closer, looking as innocent as ever. “You going to zip me?”

“I might unzip you,” he muttered, pulling her closer as she laughed. He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled away before he could.

“You’ll smudge my lipstick,” she muttered before planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before turning around, exposing the soft skin of her back to greedy fingers. He placed a kiss to her spine before pulling up the zipper with slow deliberation. She shivered as he allowed his finger to drag along her skin, back arching ever so slightly until he reached the end. It didn’t cover much, reaching only the small of her back, a temptation he was going to have to deal with for the rest of the night.

“I like the red,” he whispered.

“I thought a little statement about Gryffindor would be appropriate,” she replied.

“Oh yes, very. One day when I can bare it, I’ll have to dig out the old quidditch jersey, you’ll look remarkable in it.” His heart panged at the mention of the garment, knowing that an almost identical one sat in the chest beneath the bed, a garment he couldn’t care to look at quite yet. Quickly, she spun around and kissed him again, soft and meaningful, full of the unspoken message that if it was better to stay home, she would do just that.

A cordial knock snapped against the door; Malfoy had arrived.

“Last chance to cancel,” she whispered against his neck, but he shook his head.

“No, it’ll be good for me, I have to get out there anyways.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered against his lips. The chocolatey taste of her lipstick filled his senses, and he pulled her tight against him, forgetting all about the boy at the door until another harsh knock sounded at the door.

“Get out here, you lovebirds,” he called, and Hannah giggled before pulling away.

“I think he’s getting impatient.”

“I think you’re right,” he said offering her his arm, “M’lady.”

“What a gentleman.” George opened the door, and they were met with the sight of smartly dressed Draco. His suit was all black with a small green gem pinned to his lapel. It was small and almost unnoticeable but a statement, nonetheless. He may have been ashamed about his actions, but he certainly wasn’t ashamed about his house.

Hannah pulled Draco into a hug, kissing his cheek, as her thumb brushed the gem. She wasn’t even a wizard and she knew the message that followed such a piece.

“You clean up nice,” Draco choked out to George and he nodded sharply in return. He was glad Malfoy would be joining them, but he still wasn’t quite sure how to behave around the Slytherin prince. “We’re going to be late,” he continued.

“Oh, of course,” Hannah gasped, sparing George the awkwardness of responding. They made their way to the street and slid inside. Hannah and Sloane awkwardly hugged despite the cramped nature of the car and quickly began gossiping with Hannah.

Hannah listened intently, but her hand never left him as she rested in the crook of his arm.

“Reporters aren’t allowed, but I’m a small exception,” Sloane bragged tapping a pen that was hidden in the curls of her hair. George could only assume a notebook was hidden somewhere else among the folds of silver gown. To anyone else it might have seemed like a neutral color, one full of royalty and elegance, but George could tell by the way Draco was passing the fabric through his fingers it was a show of support far more obvious than his small gem.

The atmosphere was friendly as they made their way to the celebration, Hannah and Sloane carrying a majority of the conversation as Sloane explained what sorts of magic they would come across. Hannah was certainly going to be one of the only muggles attending, if not the only one, but he couldn’t imagine they would have much to say about it, not in light of a celebration that was about the defeat of the very man who had wanted them destroyed.

And if they did, he would send anyone away who tried to give her a hard time. If Draco could befriend a muggle, certainly all those who had fought against Voldemort could as well.

Everything was going well until they pulled up to the steps of the venue. That was when the weight settled onto the two men. They climbed out of the car, invitations clutched tightly in their hands as they took the arms of their dates and began their trek towards individual nightmares.

George handed his invitation to the doorman first and instantly was allowed to pass. He began to make his way towards the banquet hall, but Hannah held him back. He turned to find the source of her hesitation and found Malfoy arguing with the doorman, who must have recognized his face.

“You’re not on the list,” the doorman responded coldly and Draco shifted angrily. He remained silent, as if admitting defeat, but Sloane was not having anything of the sort.

“We have an invitation,” she snapped, shoving the parchment into his face, but he cringed away, not even daring to touch the paper.

“It may have been forged.”

“How dare you, you-,” Sloane began, hand reaching for a wand he was sure she had tucked away beside the notebook, but George cut her off.

“Draco,” he called and all three looked at him, surprise written across each face, “Is this man giving you trouble?” He had never referred to the weasel by his first name, and he had certainly never stood up for him, but tonight was a night of firsts.

“Mr. Weasley, you surely can’t-,”

“I can’t what?” The doorman was dumbfounded, shocked his bullying had been put on hold by someone he considered to be on the same side. “Draco, we best make our way to the hall before our table gets snagged.” Draco nodded curtly and joined the couple, eyes offering thanks.

“I can’t believe the audacity…” Soane was ranting as they made their way closer to the party. She was proclaiming all sorts of threats, most of which involved spilling his dirty laundry across the front page of the Daily Prophet, but George wasn’t paying attention. If the doorman was that biased, how was the rest of the party going to be. He couldn’t defend the man against everyone and everything that considered him the scum of the earth. He wasn’t strong enough to fight them all off, not when he had to get them off his own back.

Their table was in the back corner, per request, and no one of consequence had noticed the pair of couples yet.

“I need the powder room,” Sloane announced, dragging Hannah along with her.

“Don’t let Hannah learn any habits from that girl of mine,” Draco muttered, running a hand through his hair in exhaustion. George remained in silent confusion, asking for an explanation. “She’s got some anger issues that one. Mark my words when she comes back her knuckles will be a war wound. Her one flaw really.”

“You’d never be able to tell.”

“She keeps it well hidden. First time I saw her knuckles she tried to completely deny it, like I don’t know what busted up knuckles look like. She’s so loyal though, so goddamn loyal. She sees my name in the paper once and she disappears for a few hours and then comes back with bloody knuckles, and the next day the poor bastard is strong up for some dirty little secret. It almost feels wrong telling her not to get angry when it’s on my behalf.”

“But you’re worried she’ll make enemies she can’t defeat,” George interrupted, and Draco smirked.

“Exactly. I mean, I begged her not to wear that dress, but she insisted. She kept telling me, ‘Someone needs to make a statement. It’s not fair that Slytherin is the enemy, not after the was has ended’. I wanted to strangle her, shake some sense into that ridiculously brash brain of hers. She would have been a Gryffindor if she had come to Hogwarts I’m sure of it, we would never have let anyone that stupid in Slytherin,” he said fondly, the tone not matching the frustration of his words. “I hated her at first, did you know?” George shook his head. “I did. She was so nosy, and I just wanted to disappear, but she wouldn’t let me. And now I love her, never thought I’d say that to anyone before her, y’know.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” George whispered with wide eyes as the girls returned from the bathroom. They took their seats, and sure enough Sloane’s knuckles were swollen and bruised, cuts along each of the knuckles. It was a mixture of old wounds and new, making him wonder why she didn’t heal the wounds.

All around their table was gayety. Old friends reuniting both in person and through paintings. Fred had a painting somewhere, but George wasn’t quite sure if he would ever be able to make it over to that corner, if he would be able to look into the eyes of his brother when he couldn’t hug him until his bones stopped aching and his heart stopped yearning.

The conversation was slow and easy, Draco and George falling into softer moments of their school experience, avoiding moments when they interacted. Through conversation they talked about quidditch and McGonagall and how even the five-star dinner thy were being served now couldn’t compare to feasts at the Great Hall. Sloane was enjoying whatever French concoction they had provided because she had suffered through American school lunches since her first year of school.

Eventually, the band stepped onto the stage and magically a ballroom was summoned, complete with glitter drifting around in reds, blues, and yellows like confetti. Neither boy was interested in dancing, not the girls minded. Hannah cared more about George’s comfort than dancing, and Sloane had disappeared half an hour ago to interview people as subtly as she could bare. It was nice, he had never thought he would find joy in speaking to Draco, but it seemed that when they weren’t forced to choose sides, or being persuaded to be a bigot, they had a lot in common. Nothing had happened, it seemed nothing would until George heard his name called over the sound of soft strings.

“George, I heard a rumor you’re friends with a Death Eater now, but I told them that can’t be true,” Ron called, pushing through the crowd. He seemed so sure of himself until he finally stumbled upon their table, eyes flitting between George and Draco. “I see I was wrong.”

“He’s not a Death Eater,” George replied, taking another sip of his drink, ignoring the look of contempt on Ron’s face.

“I bet his arm says otherwise,” Ron spat and Draco stood, eyes narrowing while his hand subconsciously rested against the arm in question. “Trying to get your girlfriend murdered?”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Oh, come on, he hasn’t changed at all, I’d bet he’s going to off her the moment you turn your back.” Draco drew his wand but uttered nothing fast enough to stop the impact of knuckles against flesh. Draco stumbled back holding his nose as blood poured down his face. George was on his feet now; grateful Sloane was not around to the end the life of his closeminded brother.

“Get out of here,” he growled while Hannah attempted to stop the bleeding.

“So, you’re a sympathizer now too? Did Fred die for nothing?”

Nothing could have stopped George from lunging forward, not Hannah’s scream and certainly not the flailing of fists that came from his angry brother. They were on the floor, rolling against the harsh marble while a crowd gathered around them. No one attempted to separate them as he relished in feeling of anger, not that anyone could have succeeded.

A crunch of bone against cartilage and then a knee into a rib. Nice suits be damned, propriety be damned, reputation be damned, no one got to talk about Fred that way, especially not his own brother.

George wasn’t sure he would ever stop. He could hear Hannah, but she seemed so far away, on the other side of his rage. Another pair of hands entered the throng and pushed him away. Harry was pulling Ron away, a bloody nose of his own.

“Don’t you dare talk about him. You don’t deserve to have his name in your mouth, you fucking bigot,” George yelled, storming forward but soft hands caught his arm. He whipped around, prepared to fight off whoever had dared to stop him, but instantly softened at the sight of Hannah staring up at him.

“Let’s dance,” she whispered, dragging him through the crowd and to the dance floor.

“Malfoy-.”

“Sloane is taking care of him, let’s just dance,” she whispered, reaching up to wrap her arms around his shoulders. He rested clenched fists against her waist and as they swayed, he slowly relaxed, falling into her.

“I could kill him.”

“I know, but that won’t solve anything.”

“Always so reasonable.”

“I do my best.” He lifted his head and she brushed a soft finger over the black eye blooming across the left side of his face. “I like this, very rugged.”

“Are you saying you want me to get punching in face more often?”

“No, I’m just saying I won’t dump you because of it.” He chuckled softly, doing his best to hide the tears that were threatening to fall down his cheeks. “It’s okay to cry.”

Damn her and her ability to know exactly what he was thinking.

“I’m going to avoid it if that’s alright.”

“Whatever works for you.” He kissed her, his busted lip stinging as he touched her, but he only pulled her closer. They swayed a little while longer in silence, ignoring the people staring at him as best they could. “Thank you for standing up for him. I know it was hard for you.”

“It wasn’t.” She quirked an eyebrow and he continued. “That’s why Fred died isn’t it, for freedom from status or something like that. It would be a dishonor to let anyone suffer the consequences of who they used to be. We accepted Percy when he returned, why not Draco, why not any of them?” She hugged him tight, kissing him as roughly as she dared. He spun her around, covering the pair in glitter.

“Shall we go, my love?” He nodded silently and they rejoined Draco and Sloane who both looked as prepared to leave as he felt. Hannah took Draco’s hand and softly kissed it, a silent apology she shouldn’t have to offer.

“I’m sorry for my brother,” George offered and Draco shrugged. He believed he had deserved it, and maybe once upon a time so did George, but not anymore, at least not consciously. “Dinner’s on me next Friday.” Looking up over the bloody rag he raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll be there.” And then they left, not quite friends, but certainly well on their way to becoming so. Hannah smiled at the pair walking ahead of her and watched as Sloane kicked off her heels before flipping off the doorman who had hazed them prior.

“That doesn’t mean the same thing here,” Hannah whispered and Sloane shrugged before he puked over the edge.

“That means the same thing, I think,” she whispered through laughter before dragging her past the boys and into the car, already gushing about all the news she had picked up through the night. George laughed and slapped Draco on the back as friendly as he could manage. The man grinned back at him sheepishly before climbing in. George glanced back at the venue and laughed at the audacity of thinking a night out would be without flaw, and then he remembered the bed that was waiting for him at home and the beautiful girl who be joining him and then he climbed in.

It would be worth it, everything would be worth it.

[eponymiad]

Rating: T Word Count: 4450

1.

The first time Sophos asked the mountain queen to dance, it was his last night in Eddis. For formality’s sake, Eddis would not have declined, but it had taken him most of the night to work up the nerve. 

Punctilious in her hospitality, Eddis had arranged a banquet in their honor. His uncle who was Sounis had finally negotiated their release, though Sophos wouldn’t exactly have called it a harrowing hostage situation. The magus, ever a teacher, had made their captivity instructive, and the Eddisian court had been exceptionally kind, if a bit distant. 

Grasping for conversation as they danced, Sophos said, “I visited the god of thieves’ altar today. Those emeralds were even more impressive than you made them out to be.” 

Eddis laughed, then pressed her lips together. “You can see why the duchess was livid,” she whispered, sounding amused and a little conspiratorial. 

“Indeed. I’m surprised Gen made it out alive.” 

Her grin faltered, and Sophos worried he had inadvertently insulted her or her court. The lowlanders often painted the Eddisians barbaric, but Sophos had not meant his joke literally. Before he could fumble an apology, however, Eddis’s easy smile returned. 

She said, “Oh, Gen prevailed, he always does. Are you glad to be returning to Sounis?” 

Sophos blushed. “I have enjoyed my time in Eddis.” He had grown immensely fond of Eddis — both queen and country. 

The queen of Eddis was exceedingly kind. Sophos knew that another sovereign would not have been so welcoming of their prisoners. His uncle certainly would not have, and that Attolia had held them in a cell in her stronghold just weeks earlier was proof enough that she, too, thought prisoners belonged in a prison. 

Eddis smiled, and Sophos blushed harder as he returned it. He was acutely aware of where his hand rested on her waist, grateful the dance was one he knew well. He thought his nerves might fail him. 

“You must be excited to see your sisters again. From everything you’ve told me of them, they sound much like my more…rambunctious cousins.” 

“They are troublemakers, if that’s what you mean. I am sure to find my hair filled with twigs and leaves by suppertime the day I return.” Sophos laughed. “I cannot wait to see them.” 

Home also meant seeing his father, and explaining what had happened to Pol. The magus was sure to have sent word by now, but Sophos was dreading having to answer questions. The guilt was nearly too much to bear as it was. 

Eddis seemed to guess what he was thinking. “I am sorry about your guard captain,” she said carefully. 

“I will miss him very much. And I do not…look forward to having to explain what happened to him.” 

“I cannot believe your father could blame you for this, Sophos,” she said, even more gently, guessing again at his thoughts.  

“I see you have not met my father, your majesty,” he said wryly. 

She smiled again, an intoxicatingly slow-spreading one that filled her entire face. “I have, actually.” 

“Oh.” He was at a loss for what to say. It was not only his grief over Pol and Ambiades, still fresh and raw, but the concentrated power of her smile that rendered him temporarily speechless. The Queen of Eddis was perhaps the loveliest person he had ever met, and he’d discovered that her more brilliant smiles made it difficult for him to speak. A particular disappointment, as he was eager to talk to her as much as possible. 

Sparing him from scrambling for intelligent thought, Eddis changed the subject. 

“I hope we will have you back as a guest soon. I expect we will have a ceremony in the fall.” 

“For your wedding?” Now that she had no cause to marry his uncle, Sophos had been wondering when she and Gen would marry. 

She laughed. “No, I suspect we will have one more ceremony to honor Hamiathes’s gift, and we will of course invite our neighbors to attend.” 

Sophos wondered if he might persuade his uncle who was Sounis to bring him. He repressed a shudder at the thought of prolonged interaction with his uncle, but perhaps the magus would make a case for it on Sophos’s behalf. 

“I will hope to attend, then, and look forward to returning.” The music ended, and Sophos bowed. “Thank you for the dance, your majesty.”

She returned his smile, inclining her head briefly before turning to her next partner. Sophos returned to his seat, feeling light as air.   

2.

Sophos hadn’t realized he’d grown until he was standing in front of Helen, asking her to dance. He found he had to tilt his head now to look her in the eye. 

As they danced, they chatted, but Sophos could tell she was weary behind the smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“How have you fared today?” he asked. 

“Very well. It was an important ceremony and I am glad to have the company of our neighbors and allies from further away to share it with. Did you enjoy the day?” Her formulaic response left Sophos unconvinced. An expert himself in court niceties, Sophos knew they were easy to wield when more natural conversation was stilted. 

He pressed again, as gently as possible. “I did, thank you. But I imagine it must have been a long day for you, especially.” 

She hesitated, before letting out a quiet sigh. “Yes,” she said, conceding the point. Her face relaxed at the admission. “I am rather exhausted.” 

He sympathized. “I find large events like this particularly draining myself, and I am not anyone nearly as important.” 

“I think heir to the throne merits ‘nearly as important,’ Sophos. But yes, they are draining. Frankly…” 

He waited, hoping she would speak, but she gave a small shake of her head as if letting the thought pass. He ventured a guess. “A lot of self-important, overly-dressed people?” 

Helen’s mouth opened in surprise before she let out a laugh. “That is an…apt description.” 

In the short time he had known her, Sophos had begun to suspect the queen of Eddis cared as little for frivolous courtiers as he did. He was delighted, both to have his suspicions confirmed and to have teased the admission out of her. 

“Just a gaggle of masks,” he said. 

She looked up at him, confused. “A gaggle of what?” 

“Masks, from the story of the fox and the mask?” he said, but she shook her head. “Surely you know Aesop?” 

“Of course I know Aesop, but I do not think I have heard that one. The only story I know about foxes is the fox and sour grapes. Tell me about the mask?”  

Smirking, he told her, “The fox stumbles across a beautiful mask, wrought from gold and inlaid with stones, perfectly molded for a mortal face. Contemplating it, he says, ‘so full of beauty, so empty of brains!’” 

“Oh!” She snorted, and slipped into a round of silent giggles. Sophos was unreasonably pleased to have made her laugh.

“Perhaps that one is popular in Sounis because of the invaders?” he said, wondering aloud. The Merchant Empire had been fond of their ornate masks, which were worn by okloi and patronoi alike during the festival months. “I did not realize there might be more stories. I wonder if I know all the Eddisian ones. What are some of your favorites?” 

She thought for a moment. “The Astrologer Who Fell into a Well and The Boy and His Nettles are two that spring to mind.” 

“Oh, I know the nettles. I have been made to remember that one often by my mother,” he said wryly. 

Smiling, she said, “But not the astrologer?” 

That one did not know, but the the music came to an end, and it was time for the queen to move on to her next partner. Sophos did not stop to think before he said, “Permit me one more dance and you can tell it to me?” 

Helen smiled the smile that Sophos was rapidly discovering buoyed his soul. “Very well,” she said, as Sophos, beaming, led them into the steps for the next dance. “There was a stargazer who spent evenings with his face upturned to the stars, oblivious to all else — the way I’ve seen you do with a book,” she added. Sophos blushed and nodded in agreement. “One night, as he walked through a field, looking up, he fell in a well.” Sophos cringed. “His neighbor came running at the shouts and, seeing the astrologer said, ‘Now you see what happens when you worry over the skies instead of that which is right in front of you.’” 

Sophos raised his eyebrows. “Is this an instructive tale about how I should worry less for the magus’s lessons on temple architecture, and more about hunting and sword fighting so that I might be a suitable heir?” 

“No!” With the hand already holding his shoulder, she slapped his arm gently. “More a reminder to myself.” 

The queen, as far as Sophos knew, did not have a particular interest in the sciences or any other academic subject. 

“A reminder of what?” 

“Not to make myself sick worrying about the plans of the gods and instead focus on the things I can control.” 

Sophos was not religious, did not believe in gods or myths. Despite what Gen had told them as they had camped in the mountain country a few months earlier, the Eddisians were much more religious than Sounisians. That much, at least, had become clear during his two trips. Foreign rulers and emissaries might have attended for the formality of the ceremony, but Sophos had heard the way the Eddisians spoke of Hamiathes’s gift — Gen and Helen had certainly believed in its sanctity. But still, he could see the wisdom in her words. 

“Ah. My cautionary tale is A Man with Two Sweethearts, though I rarely heed my own reminders,” he admitted. When her eyebrows shot up her head, he laughed and fumbled as he said, “The lesson is, those who seek to please everybody please nobody.” 

“I’d never heard that one either, though the lesson itself is a good one. It might carry a different message to my Eddisians though,” she said cryptically. Changing the subject, she said, “I did not realize there were so many more fables.” 

Sophos did not hesitate, did not even draw a breath before saying, “I have a large book of them that was given to me when I was learning to read. I could recopy some of my favorites and send them to you when I return to Sounis, if you’d like.” 

“That would be lovely.” 

And there it was, the chance he had been waiting for. Sophos had spent his faux-captivity over the summer in Eddis, and this much shorter trip, frantically searching for an opening to write to Helen. He had grown increasingly dismayed as the day wore on that he might not find a good reason. The excitement and nerves pounded against his rib cage in equal measure as they moved through the last steps and the song came to an end. 

“Thank you for the dance.” Sophos bowed, knowing it would do little to cover up the blush spreading across his cheeks as he willed his mind away from the rapidly unfolding fantasy that she might respond to his letter, that they might strike up a real friendship, that that might… “It is always a privilege to to spend time in your company.” 

She returned his smile with one of her own, the slow-spreading one that was, Sophos was certain, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. It made his heart sing. 

“I will look forward to the Aesop stories.” 

“I will get working on them as soon as I arrive home,” he promised. 

3.

They had danced nearly every night that he was in Attolia. 

They were both a little clumsy in their dancing, both in different ways. Helen was stiff, her soldier’s march no less pronounced in the fluid steps of a dance. Sophos, for his part, had grown taller since regular balls in Sounis, and found it hard to adjust to the length of his gait. But as the days wore on, punctuated by walks in the gardens and, if he was lucky, meals together, they had found their rhythm. By now they moved almost as one. 

Sophos had felt something shift, in the way she looked at him, the way she touched him, the way she moved her body in time with his. He may be cow-eyed, but he wasn’t oblivious. As he fspun out further and further, head sick with plans and worries about retaking his country, the sole thought buoying his hopes was that he might come back not to a political marriage but — 

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Helen teased, smiling up at him. She smiled at him often, and it still caught him off guard, left him feeling both completely off kilter and as if everything was right in the world. His heart swelled. 

“How very lucky I am that you dance with me.”

“Plenty of women dance with you.”

“But none nearly as beautiful as you.”

She flushed then, cheeks darkening, mouth half-open in surprise. “Flatterer,” she said when she recovered. 

“Not at all. I am incapable of lying, as Gen has made sure to remind me several times a day.” She shook her head, still smiling. He asked, “Are you looking forward to returning home to Eddis?” He led her into a spin. 

She spun back. “Immensely,” she admitted wearily. “I miss my mountains.” 

Sophos did not fail to notice that as she had landed back into his arms, her body was a little closer than it had been. Sophos slid his hand around, from her waist to her back, and pulled her even closer. 

The music changed and he cursed his luck as he and Helen broke apart. That move had taken all his nerve, and he did not know if he would risk it again. 

But the next song was different, and with the drum came the trill of a mountain pipe. Helen glanced over her shoulder at Gen, who was looking at his wife with such a fondness that it warmed Sophos’s heart. It was the first time Sophos had heard a traditional Eddisian tune since he had been in Attolia. He suspected they were avoided since both hands were needed, but the Attolias seemed to be getting into position to dance. Helen looked back at Sophos.

“You know the square dances?” 

“Helen,” he said dryly. “I am good for very little, but I do at least know Eddisian court dances. Have a little more faith in me than that.” 

She rolled her eyes. “If I had so little faith in you, I would be more worried for the future of our little peninsula.” 

“Point taken,” he said, grimacing. As he moved into position, Sophos faltered — he realized that he had not danced the Eddisan dances in years. “We’ll have to see how we fare with the height difference.” 

She laughed. “Everyone is taller than me. I barely come up to Boagus’s sternum. It will be fine.” 

The dance required partners to grab each other’s hands and Sophos, seizing the opportunity, laced his fingers between hers. That the dance was easier when performed with clasped hands was of little importance to him at the moment. 

When it was time for her to spin, Sophos released Helen’s hands as she spun away and back to him, fingers sliding back into his when she returned, the skirts of her dress following suit. 

“This dance is the only time I prefer a dress to trousers,” she said.

“I don’t remember this dance being so fun,” Sophos said, just barely holding onto his breath as the music sped up for the next cycle. 

“Have you ever danced it with an Eddisian before?” He hadn’t. “It takes practice for it to really flow.” 

It was certainly more fun than any of the continental dances at the Sounisian balls, or even the more out-of-fashion dances brought to the peninsula by the last invaders. There was a thrill in the way the pace picked up, quickened your heartbeat and chased the air from your lungs as you stepped faster and faster with your partner, until the only things you could focus on were the tapping of your own feet and your partner’s body, mirroring yours as you tried desperately to keep the pace. 

Their fingers unwound only for the last spin, Helen’s hands small in his as he gripped them tight. And as they spun together, Sophos so much larger than her that he thought he might lift her off the ground with his force, their eyes held one another’s. In that moment, Sophos was sure there was no one else in the room, in the palace, in Attolia, and maybe not even the world. 

The music ended and they came to a halt, both of them breathless and bubbling with mirth. Pulling one hand from hers, Sophos gently pushed back a curl that had flipped free of her crown, tucking the short strand behind her ear. His hand lingered there, and Helen held his gaze. Sophos was acutely aware of how close they stood. Close enough, he thought, that if he bent down, he could kiss her. 

He considered it, his mind running away as he imagined, for an instant, tilting her head up at his and kissing her here, in front of everyone, propriety and the whole court of Attolia be damned. 

But he was not so reckless — though he might have been had they been in the gardens alone — and slowly he lowered his hand from her face, their other hands still clasped tight. Never once did she take her eyes off his. 

And as he lay in the dark later that night, restless over his journey and the hard, perhaps fatal plan that lay before him, he thought of Helen, of the dance, and of the look she’d given him he had touched her face. 

This was not his imagination, he was sure. There was something between them. 

Thinking of her, he drifted to sleep. 

+1

“Is the dress all right?” Gen asked as he and Helen stepped together. His tone was light, but Helen knew her cousin too well. His hook lay at her waist, blade carefully turned away to spare her dress — or her — any harm. 

“It’s perfect, thank you, Gen. And thank you for sparing me from whatever awful gown Aunt Livia would have inevitably chosen.” She would have complied, her worry over the future of her country and the imminent threat of her barons making it easier to say yes than to argue for her own self-interests. Instead, Gen had insisted on handling it. The resulting wedding dress was beautiful, both as simple as Helen preferred and cut with a neckline to show off her tattoos, making clear to those watching that she was still Eddis. She was overwhelmed, as always, for his careful consideration and fierce loyalty. “And the wedding has been lovely. You are the consummate host. Maybe you are better as a frivolous trophy husband, planning parties and selecting gowns,” she teased. 

“I told you all, I make a much better figurehead than king. I also told you that I thought you would marry him,” Gen added, gloating, as the dance continued. 

She rolled her eyes, but could not stop her smile. “Do you never tire of being right?” 

“No.” He grinned at her, and she was glad for it. Eugenides had not smiled much these last few days, not since her barons had arrived and their cousins had begun complaining about his ascension to Annux in earnest. 

The last notes of the song faded, replaced with sounds of drums and a single mountain pipe. Before she had time to consider whether she was willing to risk a one-handed dance with Gen, her husband appeared at her side, tugging her by the hands into an empty space with him.

She and Sophos finished the dance with the last spin, as breathless as ever after a square dance, and the music master paused before the next song to allow people to compose themselves. Sophos grinned down at her. She reached up to touch his face, his head ducked to bring it closer to her. 

“You look so handsome today.” 

She watched his cheeks, already flushed from dancing, turn redder still, the color blooming dark across his face. His blushes were always easy, but he had glowed like the fires of the sacred mountain today, the joy radiating off of him mirroring the feeling threatening to burst out of her own chest. 

Helen thought of the first time she’d danced a square dance with him. While he had been in Attolia, she had been so wracked with worry and guilt, over saving her country and manipulating Sophos, that she had not even noticed herself falling in love with him. 

But, the night before he had returned to Sounis, they had danced one last time, and she had felt it then. Their bodies had drawn closer and closer like magnets as they’d danced, and when he had held her face, she’d been struck with the thought that she really might like to kiss him. 

In hindsight, it was obvious that she was in love with him. But at the time, she had written it off as a reaction to the dancing. That happened sometimes with dance partners, the magic of the music and the movement of bodies against one another sparking a flame that flickered and died with the end of the song. 

Well, she thought, as the flame inside her grew brighter and brighter, so much for that. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“How very much I’d like to kiss you.”

He blushed more still, suddenly endearingly shy. “You could.” 

They had kissed plenty by now. It had taken ten days from their engagement to assemble their barons in Attolia for the wedding. Sophos had not once slept in his own bed. 

“Not when you’re all the way up there, I can’t.”

He stooped low so she could pull him close, and she kissed him, quick and sweet. 

Sophos rested his forehead against hers and murmured, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

He kissed her forehead and took one hand in his, his other resting lightly on her back. The music had picked up again, and they began the slower steps for one of the Continental dances. 

Helen wiped the sweat from her brow. The fall had not yet arrived in Attolia, and it was hot in the packed courtyard. That her dress was stifling did not help. Gen had been careful in his selection, but there was only so plain wedding clothes could be. It might have been fine had they had the wedding in Eddis, but the layers were oppressive in the lowlands. 

Fussing with the heavy cloth of her dress, she said, “I cannot wait to get out of this godsforsaken gown.” 

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” 

She bit back her grin. “I meant because of the heat.” 

“I didn’t,” he said, boyish grin consuming his face. She pressed her own face into his chest briefly to hide her blush. 

They were both quiet for several moments. When she looked back up at his face, she could see worry lines on his forehead. 

“What’s worrying you?” she asked. 

“It’s nothing.” 

She raised her eyebrows at him. Sighing, he said, “It seems your barons have been putting ideas in my barons’ heads.” 

She closed her eyes briefly in frustration. “The bastards never miss an opportunity for drama,” she said, freely swearing away from prying ears. “I am sorry.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for. You did warn me they were contentious.” 

“You do not know the half of it,” she said, thinking of the bloody and nearly-bloody history she had not yet revealed to him. She would have to tell him soon, of her failure to keep her barons in line, and of how their trip to steal Hamiathes’s gift had saved Gen more than it had saved her. 

His frown lines deepened and he glanced around. “A conversation for later?” 

“For later,” she agreed. Shaking her head, she said, “But there is not much to be done about them, except make sure they stay in line. It’s the epitome of The Lion, the Flies and the Hedgehog.” 

“The what?” He looked bewildered.

“The Aesop story. It was one of the ones you sent me! The evil you know is better than the evil you don’t?” 

“Oh,” he said, face and voice tinged with wonder. “You remember that?” 

She smiled. “Of course I remember. I loved those stories. I hadn’t heard most of them.” 

Helen was sure no one had ever looked at her with as much fondness as Sophos was in that very moment. 

“I can’t believe you remember those. I was so nervous sending that letter. I had looked high and low for an excuse to write you. When you said you hadn’t heard some of them, I clung to it desperately.” 

“I am glad you did.” 

“Not nearly as glad as I am,” he said, beaming. “It feels like many lifetimes ago now.” 

“Indeed.” 

Not even in the beginning of her reign had Helen dared to hope for anything more than a peaceful political marriage. And later, when she had made her peace with marrying Sophos’s uncle, she had lost hope for even that. Her singular focus was saving her country; her wants and needs inevitably fell to the wayside. Such was the burden of being queen. 

Then Sophos had reappeared, like something straight out of the Eponymiad, and beneath all the relief and fear and guilt that had twisted together inside her, Helen had felt the first glimmers of hope igniting, that her marriage might be something more than just tolerable. She would at least be marrying her friend, she had thought. Followed immediately by the crashing waves of dread that her manipulation of him to save Eddis would be the end of that too. It had kept her up at night. 

But her imagination had not been big enough for the end result: a husband she loved as she loved Sophos. Even now, on her wedding day, it felt surreal that she could be so lucky. 

Sophos smiled down at her. “Are you happy?” 

“Beyond my wildest dreams.” 

Sophos blushed bright red. Swaying in his arms, Helen relaxed.

Crossposted on AO3 here!

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter VI]

Word count:  4,675

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x female reader

AO3 link

______________________________________________

“Renfield,” Count Dracula called. “Wake up.”

The man stirred in his bed, a string of drool escaping his mouth as he changed positions. Count Dracula looked around the room impatiently. When he first came to talk to Renfield, the man had been placed in a padded cell. It seemed now that he had been behaving nicely enough to be transferred to an ordinary room with a bed, a desk and a fenced window. Dracula sat down at the end of the bed and grabbed the man’s ankle. 

“Master!” Renfield shot up awake at once, folding himself up until he was hugging his knees. He laughed nervously, eyes darting around the room. “I-I didn’t call Y/N, I promise you. She came to see me, she did, yes, it was her. Please--”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

Renfield drew his eyebrows up and released his own legs. The striped pyjama he had on was too short for him, making him look more like an overgrown child in the Count’s eyes.

“It--it isn’t?” he stammered. 

“I need your opinion on something.”

“Well, of course,” Renfield said, a cheery smile sprouting in his face. “How can I be of service, master?”

Dracula patted the man’s shin the same way someone would do to a dog. 

“Y/N…” he trailed off as the image of her sucking on her own finger popped in his mind. He blinked, trying to clear it off, and stood up. “She…”

A deep frown settled in his face as he paced around the room. 

“She what, sir?” 

Dracula shut his eyes, leaning his head back in concentration.

“She mystifies me,” he spoke in a low voice, more to himself.

“Well--” Renfield started, chuckling nervously again. “How could she possibly mystify you, master? You’ve drank her blood. There are no secrets--”

“Ah, but there are. There must be,” Count Dracula ran his hands through his hair, his mind remained fixated on her face close to his as she teased him endlessly. “She has a power of her own but I haven’t been able to identify what it is yet. She can incite me.”

“Yes,” Renfield drew out slowly. “Y/N has a way of getting into people’s heads.”

Dracula rushed forward, leveling his face with Renfield’s and making the man cringe from him.

“How?” he demanded. “How does she do it?”

“I d-didn’t mean l-literally, master. She knows how to twist words, that’s all I meant.”

“Oh,” he moved away and started pacing again. “It’s more than that, though… Tonight at the museum--”

“Which museum? V&A?”

“Her favourite,” Dracula nodded impatiently. No wonder Renfield would know about her fascination with that particular museum. “The rapture on her face when she walked in,” he smiled, “I thought I had her.”

“She turned the tables on you, didn’t she?” the knowing tone in Renfield’s voice grabbed the Count’s attention. 

“For more than a few seconds, yes,” he exhaled a breath he had no need to hold. “Made me chase her through the museum and fully took control of the situation. I only realised what she’d done after she left.”

“She’s seducing you, master, in your own game of cat and mouse.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that, Renfield,” Dracula snapped. “I am in control, always, but she bewitched me. She must have.”

He wasn't sure if she was Samson or Delilah anymore.

“Earlier today she came to visit me and asked me about how vampire legends might apply to you,” Renfield shook his head and rose his hands to add to the veracity of his words. “I revealed nothing, my lord.”

Dracula narrowed his eyes, pulling his lips down.. 

“Did she, now?”

Renfield nodded solemnly. 

The Count rolled his head on his shoulders. Who was she? What was she to affect him like that? The memories in her blood told nothing of that. He knew she was too headstrong to propose a deal of that nature to him. Now he was finally understanding where her intentions lied. Delilah, indeed.

“Thank you, Renfield. You’ve been quite helpful. I must go pay her a visit.”

  ______________________________________________

Her shower turned off moments after he arrived at her house. It distracted Count Dracula from Lucy’s text message, begging him for another bite. Lucy was addicted enough now that she didn’t care that he had drank from her only a few days ago. While tilting her head back and sinking his teeth in her certainly appealed to the bloodthirsty monster in him, he was curiously more interested in watching Y/N. 

Dracula clicked a button on the mobile’s side and the screen turned off. He slid the device on one of his coat’s deep pockets, feeling the outline of the book Y/N had lent him earlier that night. He retrieved it to look at the bright colours on the cover depicting a giant squid wrapped around a submarine. The memories on her blood weren’t needed for him to know that she loved this book. The pages were yellowed and a bit tattered, much like the cover’s edges, and it smelled like her, albeit one from long long ago. She must have read it dozens of times and yet he couldn’t find anything definitive about the book’s story in her blood. All he could gather were the character’s names, nothing more.

The bathroom’s door opened, deviating his attention from the book. He couldn’t see into her bedroom from where he was sat. Dracula stood up, balancing himself easily on the roof’s edge from the neighbouring house and made his way to a spot where he could get a better view. Beneath him, squared neatly between her house and Diana’s stood the back yard. It was spacious enough to contain a fountain, an old fashioned metal swing and a small vegetable garden. He stopped walking as she came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and he knelt on his ankles as to not draw attention. 

Blood rushed hot through her veins, the sound of it nearly as erotic as her seminude body. Teeth elongated inside his mouth, their sharp edges poking at his lips and forcing him to part his mouth. She drew thin curtains, allowing only her silhouette to be seen. Book still in hand, Dracula lept down to the garden to keep her in his sight, landing soundlessly on the grass. 

He waited. 

“Look at me,” he said in the dead of night.

He wanted her to see the red of his gaze. Watch the terror on her face as she realised that the game was over and that she couldn’t beat him. With every drop of her blood, he would make her his.

Glass shattered to his left and Dracula swung his head to see a woman standing in the doorway. He cursed his impulses silently. It wasn’t often that he let himself get so carried away that he failed to pay attention to his surroundings. A cat slipped between the woman’s legs, hopping over the puddle of water and shards, and made a run for the hedges at the back of the property. Wind swept the woman’s silver and pepper away from her face, her hand frozen in front of her body as if she was still holding the glass. 

“Hello, Diana.”

______________________________________________

I woke up with the sound of water. A quick look at the time on my phone made me hop out of bed instantly.

“Shit, I’m late!”

No more dates with a vampire midweek. 

I peeked behind the curtains to check on the weather and to determine what should I wear for the day. Dark and heavy clouds covered the sky which meant I would have to whip out some boots for the storm on the way. A shape on the garden attracted my attention. Diana was standing in the middle of it, staring into nothing as she held a garden hose. A patch of earth beneath my window was soaked with water, like she had been watering that spot for more than a few minutes. I knocked on the window to get her attention but she didn’t react to it. I furrowed my eyebrows. There was no reason for her to water the garden when there was a storm coming. She hardly ever used that hose.

“Di?” I called after opening my window.

She blinked several times and looked up with a weak smile.

“Morning, Y/N.”

“Aren’t you going to work?”

“I’m not feeling very well today so I called in sick.”

“Can I help you with anything?” I asked and she shook her head. “Right. You might consider changing spots or we’re going get a swimming pool there.”

“Oh.” She looked at the wet spot she had been watering and redirected the stream of water to another side of the garden. “I got distracted.”

Satisfied now that I had managed to shake her out of her stupor, I closed my window and hurried to get ready. As I brushed my teeth, I noticed that the bite mark on my neck had a yellow tonality on the skin surrounding the punctures, which were nothing more than scabs now. The only bruising left was from Renfield and it remained a steady shade of purple and blue. I wrapped a wool scarf around my neck to spare people, and myself, from the view. 

A quick look at my phone informed me that it was 7:35am as I flew down the stairs, carrying a pair of boots and a purse. I sat down at the last step of the stairs, fitting each boot on my feet with disregard for the welfare of my toes. Losing a toe would be better than hearing Judge Llewellyn scolding me again for being late. My phone started ringing as I grabbed my briefcase. Cursing under my breath, I opened the front door, trying to balance my purse, briefcase and keys as I answered the phone and stuck it between my cheek and shoulder.

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Roger from St Thomas’ Hospital. Can I find a Y/N L/N in this number?”

“This is she,” I replied, stepping out to the street. 

“I’m calling concerning Francis Renfield. You’re listed as his emergency contact.”

I stopped trying to lock my door and shut my eyes, making a silent prayer.

“Is he dead?”

“Dead? No, miss,” he paused and I took a breath. “I’m calling on his behalf. He’s requested for some of his own books. He mentioned that you might be able to get them for him.”

Once I finished locking my door, I hurried down the steps, almost running to the nearby main road.

“Yes, of course. I have a key for his flat. I can-”

“Good. So here’s the list he gave me. Faust by hm huh… Got?--”

“Goethe,” I said impatiently. “I don’t have a pen right now to take note. Take a photo of the list and send it to me. I’ll drop by with the books around 6pm. Thanks, Robert.”

I shook my briefcase wildly to get the attention of a cab on the other side of the road. He braked instantly.

“It’s Roger.”

“Yeah, sorry. Bye!”

______________________________________________

As I went up the lift in St Thomas Hospital, heading for the psych ward, I realised I had successfully gone an entire day without giving Count Dracula much thought. Well. Almost. Now that I had that consideration in mind all I could do was wonder what he had planned for our next date. The prospect of controlling my impulses while near him wasn’t appealing, or dealing with his unbearable charm. Knowing he had no regard for my life didn’t help either. But I would be a liar if I said I wasn’t curious about what he had in store next. 

I closed my hands in fists. It didn’t matter if Renfield wanted to serve him or not. Dracula had taken away his free will and I wouldn’t simply accept that fact and carry on with my life. That had to be more important than my interest in the Count. 

“Do you need help with that?” 

I blinked, suddenly realising that the lift had stopped at my destination. I looked at the woman holding the door open for me and then to the cardboard box brimming with books at my feet.

“If it’s no bother. It isn’t exactly light,” I said.

She nodded once. I pushed the box forward with my feet so we could both take hold of each side. As she reached down, a hospital band slid to her wrist. I frowned as I took note of how pale the woman looked.

“Wait, no,” I began, making the woman look at me. “I shouldn’t bother you with this. You are not-”

“What? Healthy? In the best condition? Doesn’t matter as long as I have strength in this body,” she shot back matter-of-factly. When she smiled I noticed her teeth were slightly bucked. “Being polite won’t stop me from dying. Lead the way.”

She stared at me. 

“Okay,” I conceded, trying to unfurrow my brows. 

We carried the box out of the lift until we reached the nurse’s station beneath a plaque announcing that we were at St Thomas’ psychward. I signaled for us to stop at the station and we put the box down. The hospital band on her wrist had shifted angles and I was able to clearly make out a name as we stood up.

“Van Helsing?” I questioned, unable to conceal my bewilderment.

She glanced at the hospital band and then back at me.

“It’s a Dutch surname,” she explained with a small eye roll as if she was used to that question.

A bandage on the side of her neck drew my attention. What were the odds?

“As in Agatha Van Helsing?” I tried.

“As in Zoe Van Helsing,” she narrowed her eyes. “How do you know that name?”

“I think we might have a friend in common,” I murmured. I fumbled at my scarf, pretending to adjust it so I could grant her a small look on my neck. Risky, but it was the best option for me.

Zoe's eyebrows shot up. Her gaze lingered on my neck after I covered it and I smiled triumphantly. She knew.

“I wouldn’t call him a friend,” she finally said.

“Me neither,” I replied. She smiled back at me, though hesitantly. “Do you have time for a chat?”

She nodded. 

“Let’s do this on my car.”

“Yeah, give me a second.”

I found a post-it inside my purse and scribbled quickly “Deliver to Francis Renfield, patient in the psychward. From Y/N L/N. ” I stuck it to the cover of The Picture of Dorian Gray, the book standing on top of one of the piles, and then gestured for Zoe that we could go. 

I could barely breathe as we took the lift down to the car lot. After analysing Zoe, I wasn’t sure she breathed either. Finding someone else that I could talk to wasn’t the solace I was looking for but it was better than nothing. Taking by Zoe’s words she wasn’t any fonder of Count Dracula than I was. 

We were met with heavy rain once outside the hospital. To our right stood a car lot. Zoe pointed at the largest car in the lot, a black Land Rover parked a few feet from the main entrance. Lowering our heads as a feeble attempt to shield ourselves from the rain, we ran for it. The car beeped twice once we got close to it. I flung open the passenger’s door and threw myself in, followed closely by Zoe on the driver’s side. We closed the doors in unison. Sticking the key in the car’s dashboard, she clicked some buttons next to the steering wheel and hot air started coming from the air system. I ran my hands down my hair, trying to get most of the water out. 

“Count Dracula bit you,” she said simply. I looked at the bandage on her neck. “And me. Although from what I saw from your scar, he wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Was he trying to kill you ?”

Zoe turned her body on her seat as she plucked up a corner of the bandage and then threw her brown hair back to offer me a better view. The skin around it was as purple as the strangulation mark beneath my jaw. While the outline of teeth was as clear as day on my neck, her wound was a serrated gash with stitches over it that tried to mend it back. 

“Jesus…” I winced. 

“Yes, well. I suppose he treats his future brides to be much better than he treats his victims.” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so shocked. It really isn’t that far of a leap and and by the expression on your face, I’d say I’m right.”

“What’s your connection to Agatha?”

“Distant relative. How do you know about her?”

“He told me.”

“Told you? God, you really must be special,” she said and then frowned. “Did he tell you she was a nun?”

“He killed a nun?” I shook my head and waved a hand to dismiss my last words. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. Should expect worse from him, frankly.”

“Yes, you should. I would bet he hasn’t told you every little thing about him. He might not show you his worst side, I think.”

“I’m fairly acquainted with it. It’s why I’m here at the hospital. Dracula made a friend of mine his servant,” I grumbled as I ran a finger on the sore line on my neck. “Renfield didn’t take too kindly-”

“Renfield? The lawyer?”

 I blinked.

“Yes. How-” I stopped, piecing it together. It was a leap, much like Zoe had put it, but all things considered, it wasn’t that much of a stretch. “You work for that Foundation, don’t you? The Jonathan Harker Foundation. That’s the only explanation for you knowing both Count Dracula and Renfield. Frank got Dracula out of there. Don’t be so shocked,” I imitated, smiling. “I work with Renfield and sometimes I assist him with his clients. I lucked out.”

“Some luck,” she rose her eyebrows. 

“What stopped him from killing you? Don’t get me wrong but I highly doubt he would just let you go if you had him trapped.”

“I’ve got cancer working on my favour. His appetite doesn’t include that.”

Her skin’s sickly pale shade and her comment at the lift suddenly made sense. Cancer was working against her but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

“I wish his appetite didn’t include me,” I scoffed. “But I can’t escape him.”

She shook her head. 

“Not if he’s interested in you. I think the only reason he didn’t murder each and all of us at the Jonathan Harker Foundation is because we weren’t intriguing enough for him,” she paused, creasing her brow. “I don’t want to be invasive but would you mind giving me a few samples?”

“Samples?”

“I’m a doctor. Vampirism is a field that I’m fairly new to and my only test subject is uncooperative. Cancer corrupted most of the scientific evidence on my blood,” she spoke fast, like she was afraid I would leave. “You’re my patient zero.”

I watched her carefully, waiting for a sign; one that told me that she was manipulating me, or waiting for my intuition to tell me something was off, or perhaps for my bond to Count Dracula to finally interfere on his behalf. There was none. Now that I knew who and what she did, I realised how dangerous it was to be sitting in a car with her. Count Dracula had escaped the grasps of the Foundation but not without legal aide, which probably meant Zoe Van Helsing had serious resources to imprison Count Dracula. With a start I realised that she could be my way out of that damned deal I had proposed.

“He’ll definitely kill me if he finds out,” I said with a sigh. “What do you need?”

Zoe grinned, a glint appearing on her tired eyes.

“Blood samples and some tissue from where Dracula bit you, a small piece of scab should do,” she said as she reached in the backseat and pulled an aluminum briefcase. Setting it in her lap, she opened it, casting me a quick glance. “Take off your coat.”

“Oh, we’re doing it now, right.”

I removed my scarf and coat. She made me rest my right elbow on the support pad between us before tying a rubber band above the elbow ditch. Once satisfied, she stuck a needle on me before I could look away, making me emit a small yelp.

“Don’t like having your blood taken?” she chuckled. 

“Not like this,” I responded.

Zoe shot me a look and I grimaced. 

“You liked it when he bit you?” she asked, concentrating now on the vial filling with my blood.

“Can we change the subject?”

“It can help with my research.”

“Are you being serious or just prying?” the question was packed with an anger I hadn’t expected.

“Both,” she shrugged. She changed the full vial for an empty one. When the new one started filling, she stared at me. “Well?”

“Yes. It felt good. More than good, actually. A close second to sex,” I measured how much between my thumb and forefinger on my free hand. Catching the frown and wide eyes in Zoe’s face, I shook my head vigorously. “Not with him. That’s never happening.”

The memory of his body over mine made me shift on my seat. I swallowed dryly.

“Really?”

“Never.”

“I’m not judging you, it’s just that you don’t seem to be so sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m just the doctor,” while her expression was dead serious, the mischievous glint in her eyes gave her away. “Did it hurt at first?” I nodded. “And then it felt good?” Another nod. “I’ll test for dopamine and endorphins, as well. Those are our own bodies happy drugs. He might have some in his saliva in order to make it feel pleasurable.”

“Has it occurred to you that it might just be magic?” I asked as she changed vials again.

“Magic? Please. Some things pertaining Count Dracula might be magic but consuming blood is not one of them. Much like some snakes have venom to make it easier to eat their prey, I believe he might have an equivalent to that.”

“Well, did it work on you?”

“What?”

“Did you feel euphoric when he bit you?”

“No. I was terrified,” she replied. I raised my eyebrows at her and she shook her head. “Because it worked on you and not on me doesn’t mean it’s magic. Maybe he has some way of controlling the effect his bite has on people. We’re done with the blood samples. Now for the neck.”

She pulled the needle out and put a cotton pad over the tiny hole on my arm. She rose a vial, a marker pen in hand to write on the label. 

“Y/N L/N,” I provided before she asked. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too,” she chuckled, scribbling my name on all three vials. Next, she grabbed a pair of tweezers and a smaller vial. “Pull your hair back.”

I obeyed and tipped my head for her. There was a bit of pressure on the wound and then a tiny pinch followed by a burning sensation, making me yelp again.

“God, you’re dramatic,” she muttered. 

I snuck a glance at her and caught her smirk.

“Only a little,” I said, returning to my normal posture as she placed a small piece of skin inside the vial. “What kind of cancer is it?”

“Pancreatic. Death sentence, really. Not many people survive it.”

“How long do you have?”

“I don’t know. It’s stage four. I decided against getting chemo the moment I got the diagnosis because I know it’s basically useless in this case. I’m relying solely on palliative care here at St Thomas Hospital,” she shrugged as she organised all the vials inside the briefcase. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re being great help. How many times has he bit you?”

“Only this once. And not enough to turn me, he says. He would’ve done it again, I think, if I had let him.”

“Let him? ”

I smirked at her disbelief.

“Yes, long story but basically I made him a deal where he’ll only bite me or turn me if I allow him.”

She blinked, mouth slightly agape.

“Why would you do that?”

“When I made that deal I thought I was being clever for bargaining when I was actually just bluffing. I won’t be able to stall for much longer, that much I know. I don’t want to be like him,” my voice trembled and I cleared my throat. “I have dates with him set for the future - don’t ask. If I find a way to distract him, have him at the right place at the right time…” I scrutinized her face with every word, “would you be willing to capture him again?”

She stared at me.

“It might get us both killed.”

“I know.”

She closed the briefcase with a definitive sound.

“I’ll do it but, we’ll need time to plan. I spent over 3 months planning how to get him out of the sea without casualties and we still had plenty of them. I’ll handle that part. He has weaknesses, such as the sun, religious items and diseased blood. Try to find something else to our advantage,” she straightened, raising her chin. “You might have to let him bite you.”

“Thought you would suggest that,” I muttered. “He would probably trust me more. But the minute I let him do it, he’ll know about us plotting against him. He can do this thing when he drinks someone’s blood-”

“I forgot about that. Hell.”

“I’ll keep leading him on until we figure it out,” I assured her with way more confidence than I felt. “What’s so interesting about vampirism to you, anyway?”

Zoe placed the briefcase on the backseat again before answering me.

“How does someone’s body not change in over five centuries? Dracula cut his wrist to let me collect his blood and the wound closed itself right before my eyes. It’s isn’t just magic, Y/N. There is a science to it, there must be.”

I stared at her.

“Five centuries without any disease,” I added as I put on my coat again. “That’s it, isn’t it, Zoe? You think his blood holds the answer to your cure.”

Her frown was deep.

“The Foundation isn’t about me. Curing diseases is one its goals, yes, and I won’t lie to you and say I don’t wish I could be rid of this thing eating me away. But it’s not just it. The world would change if we could isolate all the aspects in his blood-” she shook her head. “I can’t tell you more than that.” She pulled out a mobile phone from her jeans’ back pocket. “Give me your number."

I narrowed my eyes at her. Zoe was reticent enough about the Foundation to make me suspicious. A clandestine operation, Renfield had said. But did I really care? 

“Fine,” I said and recited my number. “Calls only.”

“Agreed, less evidence this way,” she put her mobile back on her pocket. “I’ll call you over the next few days so we can set up a meeting. I’ll need more samples so I can follow up on your case’s progression.”

“Sure,” I said, wrapping my scarf around my neck. “I hope this works.”

She nodded, her fringe swaying to the sides as she did so.

“Me, too. Oh, make sure you take a shower and put your clothes on the washer when you get home. He’ll be able to smell me on you if you don’t.”

I grabbed my things and rolled my eyes. 

“‘Bloodhound’ certainly applies well to him, doesn’t it?” I said.

Zoe was still chuckling when I hopped out of the car and ran from the rain.

 .

.

Taglist: @festering-queen​ @feralstare​ @girlonfireice​ @dreamer2381​ @rheabalaur​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ 

I am so sorry if I forgot to anyone... please let me know if I did

[dessarious]

Old Scars and New Beginnings Pt28

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3   Beginning   Previous   Next

This shouldn’t be confusing. Marinette knew that. She knew she should be grateful and say thank you. She knew that. But she’d spent so long as both Ladybug and Marinette second guessing everything. Always trying to think ten steps ahead to avoid the fall out. As Marinette she’d spent the last year replaying everyone’s words and actions, trying to find their hidden agendas. They always had one. Everything her classmates did was to set her up so they could run to her parents and get her in trouble. Every time her parents had given her leeway it had been a trick or a trap. The question was what was the hidden agenda here?

The simplest answer was that Mr. Wayne was acting on her parents behalf to see if she would break their rules once she thought she was free of them. Anything she did, anything she touched could get her sent back. Get her put in the institution. Maybe the guardianship had been a ruse. She didn’t see the paperwork only a vague text to say the judge had signed off on it. Mr. Wayne was a businessman, that text could have been about a hundred different things.

If it was real then maybe they were testing her to see if she’d fall back into old habits and patterns. He could be trying to make her comfortable to see if her actions could be linked to her file. The last option was that she was being given all this so it could be taken away as punishment when she failed to meet their standards. The Wayne family was widely known and she’d bring nothing but disgrace to it. Just being associated with her would make it harder for him to do business in Paris, possibly all of France. There was no way she’d remain in his good graces even if he seemed to pity her at this moment.

There were too many unknowns. Too many things she didn’t understand. She felt the phone still in her hand and wished she could actually call her friends. Adrien and Chloe both grew up in affluent families, they’d know what game was being played. They’d be able to tell her how to proceed. But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t take the risk that it was a trap or a trick. She couldn’t do anything. But he was waiting for a response. She didn’t know what to do.

“Marinette.” She blinked at him and realized he’d knelt down in front of her again. When had that happened? “I’m not sure exactly what is going on in your head but I doubt it’s positive.” She felt tears sting the back of her eyes and dropped them to the floor. Her thoughts felt muddled and she couldn’t come up with a solution. That had happened more and more since she lost Tikki. Maybe she’d never been that smart or special. Maybe it was just because of Tikki, just like her confidence.

“I’m sorry.” She knew it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. No one wanted to hear apologies or excuses, but she didn’t know what else to do. And she was sorry.

“Sweetheart you don’t have to apologize.” Selina’s voice was calm and soothing but it just made her feel more guilty. “If you tell us what you were thinking maybe we can help.” She felt herself cringe away from them but couldn’t control it. She couldn’t let them know what she was thinking. If she did they might just come up with a different test, one she didn’t see coming. Given she couldn’t even solve this puzzle she certainly didn’t want a different one. She felt her breathing start to shorten as she tried to come up with something, anything to say.

“Marinette, no one is going to be mad at you or punish you for your thoughts. No one is going to punish you for using anything in this room you have my word.” Mr. Wayne’s earnest tone caused her to speak before she could stop herself.

“That’s not how it works.” He looked confused and when she dared to glance at the others they did too. Her attention was pulled back to him when he spoke.

“Not how what works exactly?” It was another trap and she’d fallen straight into it. Either she backtracked and lied or she told the truth. Was it worse to be punished or have to face a new test? She couldn’t lie, not when she didn’t have to. She felt her shoulders slump and mumbled her words towards the floor.

“Nothing is ever that straight forward. There’s always a trick or a hidden reason.” She heard shuffling from the direction Jagged and Penny were in but otherwise it was silence. She’d made him mad, she knew it.

“Can you give me an example of what you mean?” His voice was still soft but she heard an edge in it. This was bad. Marinette handed the phone back to him before she spoke.

“Four months ago my parents gave me back my phone privileges. They said I could call Adrien or Chloe once a week. One or the other, not both. They made that very clear.” She’d known they were monitoring the calls, but she didn’t think past the obvious restriction. “I called Chloe the next week and Adrien was with her at the time so I got to talk to both. That wasn’t acceptable. I broke their rules because it was supposed to be just one of them. That’s why I’m not allowed to call them anymore, because I can’t be trusted to do as I’m told.” She could feel tears on her face but couldn’t do anything to stop them. She didn’t think hard enough, didn’t put it together fast enough. She should have been able to understand better.

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

Bruce just stared at the phone in his hand before looking up to see varying expressions of horror and anger on everyone’s faces. At least now he understood why she’d seemed afraid of the phone. How was he even supposed to begin to help her if she thought everything coming out of his mouth was a lie? Or at least a half truth.

“Marinette, why do you think Alfred set all of this up for you?” She hugged herself and he could see tears dripping off her face. Her mental battle was visible in every shiver or head shake. How did anyone live like that? She saw danger everywhere, even more so than him.

“I’m not sure.” The words were forced and he could tell she meant them. But given everything that just meant she had multiple bad scenarios running through her mind.

“Is there anything I can say or do to make you believe that it’s because we want you to be happy and comfortable here?” That actually caused her to meet his eyes. He saw fear first followed by panic then they settled into guilt.

“I’m not trying to be ungrateful. I just… I don’t…. I don’t deserve to be happy.” She actually believed that. There was no doubt in his mind. She’d been conditioned to believe she was at fault. Conditioned to believe that everyone deserves more than she does. Conditioned to believe that she was nothing but a problem to be dealt with. How did you even begin to reprogram that kind of thinking?

“Would you like to go help Alfred make dinner?” He had no idea where the words came from but she brightened immediately. For right now she needed to feel useful. They could manage that at least.

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Kofi

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[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

may i?

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader ft. Chenle

Genre: fluff

Tags: docent!reader, chaperone!taeyong

Warnings: *unedited*

day 28 of 30 days with NCT

Synopsis: in which you’ve found yourself in the middle of an unlikely situation with the most handsome elementary school chaperone you’ve ever seen. 

// I’m not here to give you complications... // (x)

--

[08:13]

Small children filed into the lobby of the art museum one by one. An inaudible groan filled your cheeks as you did a headcount of all the 7-8 year old children and adults in this group. This was going to be a long day… A long day filled with careless primary schoolers, bored adults, and hours of droning through the same old tour you had been reciting for the past few months. Never once in your life had you ever thought you’d find yourself in the old, dusty art museum your grandparents worked at for so long. 

But here you were, short on money during your last years of undergrad, smiling through clenched teeth as the exhausted teacher before you collected the tour bracelets and chaperone stickers. This time, the annoyed sigh fought its way past your lips as yet another cheeky little boy reached out to touch the statue of the Foo dog on the left side of the doorway, the one with a missing tooth. 

“Excuse me! Hey! You!” you called towards the younger boy who was at the moment mere millimetres away from touching the statue’s lackluster polish. The younger boy’s hand stopped in mid air as he threw a guilty glance over to see if you had been talking to him. You continued, oblivious to the fact more than half of the students were looked at him. “I know he’s pretty but you can’t touch art, kiddo.” The teacher you had been talking to along with the rest of the class turned to see who you were about to scold. He withdrew his hand, frowning at you but following your directions regardless. 

“Chenle!” A smooth, only moderately stressed voice pounced at the child before you even had the chance to dismiss him. Ahh, you thought to yourself. So, that’s the little imp’s name. The younger boy - or - Chenle’s eyes widened in what you could only describe as stress as a rose haired male who looked much too young to be his father sped towards him. 

You had witnessed many types of chaperones in your time working at the museum, all types most usually mid thirties to middle aged and none anywhere near as stylish as this one. 

This chaperone was dressed quite plainly, in just a pristine, pressed white t-shirt tucked into a pair of stylish black slacks cinched with a - goodness, was that a Gucci belt? Blinking the surprise out of your eyes, you studied the rest of him. A couple of thin silver bracelets wound their way around his thin wrists and glinted in the sunlight filtering through the windows, matching the distress dancing in his eyes as he glanced between the child in his care and you. He was quite slim, like a dancer. And really quite handsome. His lips were pulled into a disapproving pout, somehow complimenting the angularity of the rest of his features. Dark eyes darted around carefully as he squatted next to the boy. “Come on, bud. We've been over this at other places, too. You can’t touch the exhibits!” 

Regardless of the fact this was more responsibility you had ever seen a chaperone take for their child, you almost felt… guilty. It had only been the fourth time in the past week you had caught another grubby hand trying to touch old BuBu (the name you had so affectionately given the single toothed lion), and yet you couldn’t help but feel bad for the blazing cheeked child who stood there speechless, getting scolded quietly around his friends by his chaperone. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, you clapped a couple times, loud and clear. Both Chenle and the chaperone stopped to look at you. “Alright, children. May I have your attention, please?” Soon, all sounds of children chatter had died down and you smoothed a hand over the invisible creases on your work uniform. “Thank you. My name is Ms. Y/N, and I will be helping you out today.” 

Without a moment’s hesitation, you launched into the ground rules of the museum, tossing the occasional glance over to where Chenle snuck back towards his group of friends. The younger boy shot you a grateful smile.

“Now then,” you clasped your hands together, fixating the best flight attendant/museum docent smile on your face. “Are we ready?” The group nodded and so the tour began. 

--

Despite the fact Chenle still tried to touch a couple more various pieces of art around the historic building and his awkwardly cute chaperone still insisted on shooting him the least intimidating scowl of disapproval you had ever seen, the class tour went pretty well. You brought the children to the interactive area, instructing them to go around to the different stations and try the art methods you had described during the tour with the materials the other volunteers provided. 

The students fanned out to the different corners of the room, the trained smile dropped from your face and you leaned heavily against the wall. 

“Uhm… pardon me, Miss?” the smooth, familiar voice of a hesitant male sounded only a mere centimetres away from you, sending an abrupt flinch through your body. You turned on your heels to see the handsome chaperone from earlier standing a little off to the side, looking just as sheepish as Chenle had when he got caught earlier this morning. 

You slid the polite smile back onto your lips and straightened yourself, ignoring the racing of your heart at just how much more handsome this man was up close. “Oh! Hey there!” the volume of your voice sent a painful cringe through your body. Nevertheless, you continued, brushing off any nonexistent specks of dust dotting your uniform. “May I help you?” 

“O-oh! Uhmm, no! No, no thank you!” he chuckled nervously, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. The fake smile on your face quickly morphed into a genuine one as you watched him stutter. Just like they had before, his eyes traveled quickly from one place to another, refusing to meet your curious gaze. You raised an eyebrow. The pink haired male bit his lip in an effort to collect his thoughts. Finally, he stuck a hand out towards you, offering a lopsided smile. “Uh, sorry. I- my name is Lee Taeyong, I’m Chenle’s older brother-” he paused to tilt his head to over where his younger brother sat, painting carefully with the other children. “-and I just wanted to apologize on my little brother’s behalf.” 

You took his outstretched hand with a light giggle, not failing to notice the way Taeyong’s eyes curved into happy crescents at the sound of your laugh. “Nice to meet you, Taeyong. But hey! No worries, we all learn in different ways and Chenle seems like a great kid.” 

“I don’t know about ‘great’ kid…” he scoffed playfully, nearly forgetting to let go of your hand. “But thank you for being so understanding. Are- are you sure it’s okay, though? I mean, Lele almost touched a couple of - what did you say they were? - Ming Dynasty vases? Not to mention that gold looking Foo dog at the entrance… How were you not strangling him?” 

The two of you laughed and you were almost surprised at how easier it was to converse with the male. 

“I’m serious, Taeyong, it’s fine,” you smiled, a pink heat dusting both of your cheeks. “He didn’t touch them and you were very on top of making sure he knew what he was doing was wrong. You’re all good, don’t worry.” 

“Still,” the young man mumbled, digging the tip of his custom vans into the carpet beneath you. A strange fluttery feeling settling in your stomach when Taeyong glanced at you shyly through his thick lashes. “I feel like… I should do something to make it up to you after how difficult he was today.” 

Something about this whole situation reminded you strangely of high school and the first time you had asked your crush out. Taeyong somehow radiated the giddiness of a teenage boy as he stuck his hands in his pockets, cocking his head towards you. “May I - I dunno - take you out for coffee sometime or something?” 

You hid the giddy smile slowly spreading across your cheeks behind a hand and you nodded. Perhaps today wouldn’t be as boring as you had originally thought.

--

a/n: i don’t know... i think my original thought process was how ridiculous it would be for a chaperone of a bunch of 8 year olds to ask out a cute docent... i have no idea XD 

[vivilove-jonsa]

For the dialogue prompt. If you are still taking them. "Don't you dare walk away from me!"

Hello, my dear!  Thank you for the prompt!  I hope you like it :)

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!”  

Sansa cringes at the harsh command but is she really surprised?  She’s been ridiculing him for nearly fifteen minutes straight, unconcerned with the presence of an outsider.  Who talks to their sweetheart this way?  Are they really sweethearts?  They seem more like enemies begrudgingly meeting for peace talks.  Robb had said she’d done the proposing which is fine but why has Jon agreed to marry her?  

She doesn’t want to watch this but it’s hard to avoid considering the position she’s in, on her knees at the foot of Bridezilla.  Sansa’s a seamstress and she’d agreed to make the dress alterations.  

Unfortunately, she’s seen this before in her line of work.  Some people really get a little too wrapped up in wedding hysteria and less desirable facets of their personality come out.  She had hoped Robb’s old friend might’ve chosen better for himself but Sansa will admit she’s made some poor choices herself in the past.  

At least, I never got close to walking down the aisle with Harry or Joffrey though.

She’s not so sure Jon will make it to the sept in six weeks either based on the way his jaw’s been clenched throughout this visit.  

She has a good feel for these things by now.  She’d not like his fiancée from the moment he’d introduced her and she predicts the marriage won’t last a year even if they make it through the wedding.  

She can’t blame him for having had enough of this today.  Better to walk out and cool off until she calms down and they can talk like adults maybe.  The last time she’d witness a tantrum quite like this, Rickon had been three.  

He pauses with his back to them, his shoulders slumped.  She wishes he’d walk on through the door but knows he may very well bite his lip and turn around.

She won’t make you happy in the long run.  I wouldn’t mind trying though.

Sansa bites at her own lip for that.  She has no right to think such things.  He’s engaged and she’s just the woman altering the wedding gown.  Well, she’s more than that.  He’s Robb’s old friend but maybe he’s her friend, too.  He’s been coming around the flat a lot since they reconnected a couple of months ago.  Still, he’s engaged.  So what if he’s handsome and friendly and makes her smile like no other guy has in a long while?  

“Jon Snow,” his bride-to-be says in a threatening tone, “if you walk out that door, we are through. Do you hear me?”

He turns and Sansa tries to mask her sigh, certain he’s giving in.  But his eyes aren’t on the woman in yards of ivory lace. They’re on her.

“I’m sorry for you having to witness this, Sansa, and I’ll compensate you for your work.”  His eyes flicker up to the woman he was planning to marry with a cold look.  “I hear you and we’re through.  I’m definitely done with this farce of a relationship.  You can keep the ring if you like but I won’t be marrying you.” He then turns around and walks out the door.

Stunned, Sansa’s face flushes embarrassment on behalf of them both but a small little part of that flush might be a wicked little jolt of…something.  She’s probably horrible for feeling pleased by this and by the fact that he spoke to her first.  

Several seconds pass before Bridezilla gasps with shock.  Apparently, it took that long for it to sink in that he actually left and what his words mean.

“I’ll just, um…” Furious.  There’s no other word for the glare she receives and Sansa nearly recoils in fear.  “I’ll give you the room,” Sansa murmurs before standing.  

But before she can scurry to her sewing room in the back and hope that Jon Snow’s fiancée ex-fiancée will be gone when she returns (even if she’s still wearing a wedding dress with dozens of pins in the hem), Bridezilla says, “He never shuts up about you.”

“I…what?”

She says nothing else, just shoves her way past Sansa and leaves without another word and Sansa’s left there to agonize over those words all afternoon…but not indefinitely.  

“I knew it was a mistake,” Jon tells her later right before closing time when he comes back with his checkbook and a lemon cake for her from her favorite bakery.

“Then, why were you doing it?” Sansa asks, failing to completely contain her moan as she takes her first bite after waving off his money.  “Gods, this is good.”

He grins, his dark eyes flashing at that moan, damn him.  Then, he considers his answer to her question.  “I don’t know.  Clearly, I know nothing just like she always tells me.”

“That’s not true.  You know stuff, Jon.”

“Thanks.  I guess we’d been together for a good while and, when she asked me to get married, I thought maybe that would make things better again…more like they were at the start.”

“Things haven’t been good for a while then?”

“No, it’s been a bad six months.  Maybe longer. I’d been on the verge of suggesting a break right before she popped the question but hesitated because…”  He scrubs at his beard.  

“Because?”

“I feel like a coward but she gets so angry and hateful.”

“Yikes.  I had a boyfriend like that once.”  His eyes narrow dangerously, nearly making her laugh. “Over a long time ago but I’m sorry for you.  It can be difficult walking away.  I don’t think you’re a coward.  Sooner or later, you managed to break it off.”

“Yeah.  Anyway, thanks for listening to me.”  He starts to rise from where he’s been sitting beside her in the quiet shop but then pauses and slowly takes her hand.  “Sansa, I just want you to know that seeing you again after all these years and hanging out together has been, um…special to me.”

‘He never shuts up about you.’  She swallows hard.  “Me, too.” I never shut up about you either. Hadn’t Jeyne teased her about that other day?

He gives her a sheepish grin, releasing her hand.  “I’d better go.”

She nods but then can’t help but ask, “Did you have some place to be tonight?”

“Not really.  I mean, I suppose I’d better find out how much of my stuff has been thrown out on the sidewalk.”

“Oof.  Do you need a place to stay?”  

What is she doing?  He just broke up with his fiancée.  He’ll need time and inviting him to stay is too forward perhaps.  He’s a friend.  I wouldn’t want him alone in some motel or whatever tonight.  

“Thanks but I didn’t give up my apartment.  I guess that might’ve been my subconscious wanting to keep a way out.”

Probably so. She doesn’t say it.  “Well, if you’re hungry and want to watch me eat something other than lemon cake, you could come by for dinner.”  His eyes widen and she panics.  “I mean, anytime.  Not tonight…unless you…whenever.  Sometime soon maybe.”  Gods, she’s feeling like an idiot.

But he doesn’t look at her like she’s an idiot.  He looks pleased.  “I may take you up on that sometime soon.”

And, he does.

Dinner together a week later and then the following week.  It becomes a weekly habit, dinner with Jon Snow.  Jeyne’s still teasing her but she says they’re just friends.  He still needs time and they might need time to be more.

Maybe not too long though.

Before long, he’s over more often than he’s not and maybe things are changing between them.  The rediscovered friendship and the tenuous other thing between them is blossoming and Sansa couldn’t be happier.

And one night, a two months after he would’ve been a married man, Jon shows up at her apartment with a lemon cake and a bottle of wine and she knows tonight would be a good night to cross that boundary from friendship to more.  

He’d offered to clean up the kitchen after dinner so she’d slipped off to her room, the wine giving her a boost of courage.  There’s no mistaking the fire in his eyes lately when they’re alone but he’s held back from making a move.  Sansa thinks he needs a little push.  

She emerges from the bedroom wearing something considerably slinkier than the flannel pajama bottoms and comfy tees she usually wears when they settle on her couch to watch movies on nights like this.  

“Sansa…”  

His eyes are round and his mouth keeps moving but no other words come out.  He’s looking her up and down.  He gulps and his mouth starts moving again with no words.  It’s pretty damn cute…until he turns away towards the door.

“Jon?”  Her chin starts to tremble.  Has she misread everything so badly?  Is he not interested in the things she’s interested in? Is he going to leave her standing here when she’s never said one hateful thing to him?

Don’t you dare walk away from me.

She almost sobs those words until he shoots a mischievous grin over his shoulder and her lips are immediately quirking into an answering one, all her insecurities flying away like sparks from a bonfire.  

That mischievous grin becomes a smoldering look when he’s standing half way between her kitchen and the hallway.  “I’m just going to make sure your front door’s locked, sweetheart.”  

“My front door?”

“Yeah.”  His voice drops into a husky tone smooth as fine liquor and just as heady.  “Because once I kiss you, I don’t plan on stopping and I promise you’ll have a very hard time getting rid of me.”

She has no desire to ever get rid of him.