#i can’t believe i got her she’s been my top dreamie for years

[aurosoul]

Merengue on a coffee date with Tank 😭😭😭💖💖💖

[skelavender]

“Still, my mom is going to imply…” “I know. It’s not serious. I mean, it’s not like we’re married or anything.” Scully chuckles and pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “Now that’s not going to help dissuade the rumors, Agent Scully.” He teases. “At this point, I don’t think there’s any hope.” OR After a year of platonic marriage, things start to change.

read chapter one of you are in love on ao3, or below the cut!

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

***

November 1996

There are flowers on Mulder’s desk. 

A bouquet of… well, Mulder’s not great with flowers, but they’re all purple. There’s lavender, he knows that, and what he’s guessing are violets and irises. The last he can’t recognize, but it looks like a purple daisy. Maybe it is just a purple daisy? He didn’t know they made those. 

As he steps further into the office, he notices Scully behind the desk. She had been gone when he woke up, which was unusual for them, but had left a note on the coffee maker saying she had some errands to run before work and she would meet him there. It was folded and in his pocket. 

“Good morning,” she greets.

“Hey. Who sent you flowers?”

Scully raises one eyebrow and a small smirk graces her face, a challenge. “Check the card.”

He looks at her with curiosity and approaches the desk. He plucks the card out of the little fork, and when he unfolds it, he blinks dumbly a couple times.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart. 

Oh.

It wasn’t as though he’d forgotten. Of course not, not in a million years. Her gift is waiting at home, on top of the bookshelf in their home office where she could neither see nor reach. That was part of why he’d been disappointed when he woke up to a cold bed. He had wanted to give it to her before work, but she left before he got the chance. He had ordered personalized stationery for her, paper being the traditional gift for a first wedding anniversary, from a store down in Rosslyn. They have Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D. letterpressed across the top in green, with a notepad to match. 

“I don’t think anybody has ever gotten me flowers before.” He notes with a dreamy tone to his voice. Scully has impressed him.

Her satisfied expression softens. “I’m glad I could be the first.”

“Thank you, Scully. I love them.”

“You’re welcome.”

“God,” he laughs and ducks his head. “I can’t believe it’s been a year. It’s flown by.”

“It has, hasn’t it.”

“It seems like just last month we were averaging a hospital visit every two weeks.”

Scully snorts, “Not that we’re that far off.” 

Mulder chuckles, and rounds the desk to peck her cheek. “I didn’t forget, by the way. Your gift is at home. I’ll give it to you this evening.”

“I didn’t think you had.” She mirrors the small kiss and Mudler retreats to the chair Scully usually sits in. If she wants the desk today, she can sure as hell have it. 

***

Scully pulls up outside her mother’s house and parks the car. She’s unbuckling her seatbelt when his hand shoots out and stops her. Her eyes shoot up to meet his, one brow raised.

He’s been thinking about it since Maggie called him to extend the invitation to the dinner. When they were first discussing getting married, Scully was concerned about her mother finding out. She had mentioned to him that she didn’t think her mother would keep the secret, but he suspected that she was afraid she wouldn’t approve of what was essentially a sham union. 

But Mulder wears his ring, and people tend to be curious.

Most of the time he can get away with vague answers that aren’t really lies, but he knows Mrs. Scully would grill him about it. He can only answer so many questions by talking about Scully without really talking about Scully before her mother notices. 

“Your mom still doesn’t know, right?”

Scully knows what he’s talking about immediately. “No. Only that we’re living together.”

He slips his ring off his finger and holds it out to her, “Will you hold onto this for me?” Her mouth forms a little O. “She’ll have questions. There are only so many ways I can skirt them.”

“Of course,” she says. Her hands trace the neckline of her cardigan. He’s about to ask what she’s doing as he’s still holding the ring out to her in a flat palm, until the gold chain pops out and she undoes the clasp.

It would be so easy to forget about it. That she also wears the ring. That their union isn’t one-sided. That she’s as intertwined with him as he is with her. She wears it openly at home, sometimes, but the necklace remains hidden when they’re out and about. Despite that, Mulder, with a possessive streak that he tries to damp down, remembers. The image of her ring laid against her chest, or the fleeting vision of it on her finger for a couple days in the hospital, is settled into its own corner of his mind. He thinks of it more often than he’d like to admit. 

Scully plucks the ring from Mulder’s hand and slides it onto the chain. It clinks into place next to hers. Two hearts, strung together. 

“Thank you for mentioning that, I hadn’t considered it,“ The thought of hiding you hadn’t crossed my mind, she doesn’t say. She tucks the necklace back into her shirt and goes to unbuckle her seatbelt again. “You ready?” 

Mulder nods, and they approach the Scully residence. 

“She does think that we’re dating, you know.” Scully says as they walk up the pathway side by side.

“Really?”

“I tried to explain we’re living together because of the convenience, but she was not convinced.”

Mulder’s hand goes to the small of Scully’s back as she does up the couple steps onto the porch. “I’m not surprised. She always seemed to think we were…”

“I know. But now she’s pretty damn sure of it.”

“You did your best.”

Scully wonders how different things would be if they were… romantically entangled. Would he have fought her mother’s Thanksgiving invitation so hard? Would his hand be in hers, or around her shoulders, instead of on her back? Would he drop a kiss onto her lips on her mother’s front porch before facing the crowd inside?

She steps back and her eyes crawl up and down Mulder’s form. One of the buttons on his shirt doesn’t match, she notices. The cleaner would have attached a closer match, so he must have done it himself. 

Who had taught him to sew a button? It’s not a skill she would expect him to have. She can’t exactly picture his mother sitting him down to teach him. Every time Scully thinks she finally knows Mulder, finally understands him, something new surfaces that makes her rethink him. 

Scully sucks in a breath and refocuses. “Still, she’s going to imply…”

“I know. It’s not serious. I mean, it’s not like we’re married or anything.”

Scully chuckles and pushes up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Now that’s not going to help dissuade the rumors, Agent Scully.” He teases.

“At this point, I don’t think there’s any hope.” She rings the bell.

“Dana! Fox! Oh, it’s so good to see you both.” Maggie swings the door open and greets them with her usual warm, excited smile. She takes each of them in for a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs Scully.”

Maggie slaps his arm playfully. “You call me Maggie, Fox, how many times do I have to tell you.”

“Alright Maggie.” Mulder smiles at his shoes. Mulder fucking loves Maggie Scully. She offers affection so freely, in a way Mulder isn’t used to experiencing, especially not in a familial manner. He wasn’t raised with this, with hugs hello and being allowed to call friends’ parents by their first names. It’s foreign to him. She’s been trying to get him to call her Maggie since she started feeding him while Scully was gone, but it had never stuck. 

“Bill and Charlie are in the living room, why don’t you two go sit with them while I check on the bird?“ Maggie offers.

“Tara and Marcel couldn’t make it?”

“No, Tara decided to go to her parents last minute, and Marcel is, well, Polish, so he didn’t want to come back over with Charlie for an American holiday.” Maggie winks at her daughter. “You’re the only one who brought a partner this year, Dana.”

“Mom, that’s not—“ Scully sighs and runs a hand over her forehead in exasperation before deciding to just drop it. “I’m surprised Charlie was able to get the time off, he usually isn’t.”

“I’m not teaching this semester,” a new voice explains, Mulder turns around to face a burly looking redhead. “I’m focusing on research and writing. Makes it a bit easier to get away for American holidays.” He turns to Mulder and offers a hand, which the agent takes. “You must be the Agent Mulder I keep hearing about in Dana’s emails. Charlie Scully.”

“That would be me. It’s good to meet you.”

“Dana says you just go by Mulder?”

“With a first name like mine, you’d go by anything else.”

Charlie laughs, “So tell me, Mulder, has Dana ever told you about what happened at her senior prom?”

“No, she has not.” Mulder replies, tone keen and interested. He turns to his partner, “Scully, am I about to unlock embarrassing childhood stories?”

“Charlie, you promised you would never tell anyone!”

Charlie taps his fingers together conspiratorially, and begins regaling Mulder with the story as they enter the living room. 

Upon introduction to Bill, Mulder understands why Scully had laughed so hard at a joke he once made about the two of them having an affair. Bill hides his contempt for Mulder poorly, with a pinched smile as they shake hands and the occasional glare. When Maggie calls them into the dining room to gather for the meal, Mulder sticks to his Scully’s side and Bill settles himself on the other end of the table, at the head. 

“Mom, that was delicious,” Scully says as she pushes her chair back. She then turns to Mulder, “Should we get on the dishes?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Dana.” Maggie protests, rising from her seat.

“You cooked us an amazing meal, Mrs. Scully, please let us clean up.” Mulder places a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to stay in her seat and converse with her sons, and he and Scully retreat to the kitchen with piles of dishes in hand.

“You wash, I dry and put away?” Scully offers, and Mulder nods. 

“Thank you for inviting me,” he says after a few moments of quiet washing. “I was afraid it would be awkward. I mean, Bill doesn’t seem to like me very much, but Charlie seems nice.”

“I can’t believe he told you about Marcus.” Scully laughs, “That story is so embarrassing.”

“I’m just glad to have finally earned your embarrassing childhood stories. It’s like I’ve reached the next level of friendship.”

Scully snorts. “Right, Mulder. Step one is they bail you out of jail, step two is they shoot you, three is get married, four is buy a home together, and five is learn about their senior prom. That’s the natural order of things.”

Maggie watches from the other room as Mulder tilts his head back to let out a full belly laugh. Dana elbows him, and he deposits a smear of suds onto her nose in response. As she observes the ensuing playful water fight, Maggie can’t help but hope they soon see what she does, what she’s sure Charlie has picked up on as well, what Bill might still be unaccepting of. There’s so much affection between the two of them. Dana looks up at Fox with a look that she’s never seen on her daughter’s face before, one filled with raw affection. Maggie can tell that whatever they have, it’s coming to a head. Something is there. Everything is there, glowing between them.

Plus, Fox has a thin strip of paler skin on his fourth finger of his left hand, right where a wedding ring would lie. 

next chapter ->

[waterfallfantastico]

THE WITCH’S TOWER

(A high-fantasy wg romp) 

Chapter One- The Brilliant Plan

“Come on Hexatrix, you’ve got to help meee!” Princess Isadora whined, kicking her feet in the air. “It’s just not fair…”

Hexatrix Crumm, handmaiden and witch of the ninth order, watched her sworn charge flail about on her titanic bed. She had known the princess since they were both fourteen and it was fascinating what Isadora could be discontented with. The girl was in a giant pink bed, with silk sheets and a tasteful mural of naked angels on her ceiling. This chamber by itself was bigger than the house Hexatrix grew up in. 

“As your royal witch, I’m sworn to always help you.” Hexatrix chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. “But what do you really want me to do? Turn him into a frog?”

“YES!” 

“No…” Hexatrix groaned. “That would cause an international incident, your majesty.”  

For all the gold and perfume and silk that surrounded Isadora, there was always some price to be paid. The castle had larders full of every food imaginable, but the princess had to remain on a strict diet. Her parents had horses and ships, but Isadora was rarely permitted to leave the castle grounds. They had libraries stocked full of books, but all her tutors taught her was manners and etiquette. There was always a price to be paid… and this time the price was marriage. 

By royal decree, Princess Isadora of the kingdom of Istrius was to marry prince Kenneth of Borgonia on her twenty-first birthday. 

“It’s less than a year away!” Isadora wailed, her ink-black hair falling over eyes. “I don’t want to get married…”

“I’m sure it won’t be so bad?” Hexatrix tried, half-heartedly.

“He’s the worst. He spends his weekends fox-hunting and killing all sorts of other cute creatures. He says women shouldn’t be able to read or own property. And he thinks all magic should be outlawed!”

“What a perfect asshole.” Hexatrix sighed. “But I’m still not turning him into a frog.” 

“Come on. You have a plan, don’t you Hex?” Isadora said, resting pouty lips on dainty hands.

When Princess Isadora was unwell, it was Hexatrix’s job to fix it. Solutions for headaches, acne, broken bones and bad weather all fell to her. But she felt a commitment to look out for Isadora’s emotions as much as her body.

“I always have a plan.” The Witch said with a confident smile. “Let me go get my broom.”

+ + + + +

Deep in the Tanglethorn Woods, on the border of Istrius, stands a solitary tower. Very few people have ever seen the tower and almost nobody has been inside of it. The tower is sixty feet high and made of sheer stone. Most remarkably, it has no door at its base. It has no flags, no banners and no markings of any kind. The only way in (or out) of this tower is a solitary window on the top floor. This tower still stands and can be found (if you know where to look), but in those days it was ‘owned’ by the witch Hexatrix Crumm.  

At the stroke of midnight two figures on a broomstick slid across the moon, over the clouds and through the tower’s open window. 

“Damn, it’s dark in here.” Hex muttered, fumbling for her lantern.

There was the scratch of a match, and orange light bloomed throughout the circular room. The tower was a homey clutter, with big bookshelves and workbenches covered in crumpled papers. Posters of old country fairs were plastered on all the walls, and a massive blue banner hung from the high roof. On the far right corner was a fluffy bed with a checkerboard quilt, and on the left was a cozy kitchenette.

“Hex, wow…” Isadora breathed. “This place is amazing. I can’t believe you’ve never brought me here before.”

“It pays to keep a few secrets. My little home-away-from-home. Or castle, I suppose. And it’s all yours, for now.” Hex chuckled. 

“Is your plan to just kidnap me away?” Isadora said with a wink. 

“Of course not, your highness!” Hexatrix said quickly. “No, never. This is where you’ll hide out for a few weeks while we find you a new husb… find you your soulmate.”

A dreamy smile played over Isadora’s lips. “Go on, Hex.” 

“Well, it’s very simple. You go missing from the castle, and everyone assumes you’ve run away or been kidnapped. Classic princess stuff.”

“Classic.” 

“After not finding you for a week or so, your parents will start to freak out. They’ll offer gold and then jewels… and then the big prize: Your hand in marriage to whoever can rescue you. I’ll go looking for your perfect match, and they can be the one to bring you home safe and sound. You can make up some story about them slaying a troll or dragon or whatever and live happily ever after. Simple as that.”

“Simple as that.” Isadora repeated. “So! What do I get to do while all this intrigue is going on?”

Hex blinked and pinched the bridge of her nose. Princess Isadora had many fabulous features. Beautiful and alluring features, even, but the girl was made for dreams and not schemes. 

“You stay here.” Said the Witch slowly. 

“Aw, the whole time?” Isadora pouted. 

“Yes!” Hex sighed. “You need to stay out of sight. No one can see you or the whole plan goes up in flames. Trust me, you’ll be comfy.”

Hex lit another lantern and took Isadora on a quick tour of her tower. The top floor, the one they were on, was the loft. It had the bed, the kitchen, plenty of tables and most of the books in the building. 

“The fun books, anyway.” Hex waved a hand. “I have all my encyclopedias stored in the vault to keep them dry. Feel free to read whatever you like.” 

Isadora stooped down and took out a tattered paperback, with an image of two muscular orc women embracing on the cover. The title read, in gold ink, ‘Broken Tusks, Promises Kept’. Hexatrix tried not to blush.

“This looks well-loved.” Isadora said, softly. 

“Annd down this stairwell is the workshop. On with the tour!”

The workshop was even more cluttered, with odd bits of junk and art everywhere. Beakers, solutions, herbs, oil paints, easels and brushes were all over the place. 

“Feel free to paint if you like, but here’s the real deal.” 

Hex steered the Princes to a crystal ball on a pedestal. 

“If you get bored, you can watch demonic wrestling on here. Bill Z. Bub is facing the Abyss Twins this weekend in an Venetian death-match.”

“How…lovely?” Said Isadora, who knew nothing about demonic wrestling.

The floor below that, the terrarium, was the least cluttered so far. The rows of ferns and ficuses were neat and organized, manicured with a hand absent in the first two floors. Strange rocks in the ceiling gave off light that could resemble the sun or the moon. A magic watering can floated around the green space, seemingly ever full as it sprinkled the plants below it.

“Feel free to bring a chair down here if you want a bit more light.” Hex shrugged. “The floor below is my vault, but that's just a bunch of old boring books. So, that’s my tower. I trust you’ll be quite comfortable.”

“Hang on a minute.” Isadora crossed her arms. “What about food? Or if I have to… you know, pee or something?” 

“There’s a bathroom in the kitchen. And speaking of kitchen…”

Hexatrix brought them back up to the loft, and went rummaging in her wand cabinet. 

“Wand of marbles, no that’s not right… Wand of illusions, I’ll need that for later… ah, here we are!” 

Hex took out what looked like a cooking spoon made of cherrywood and offered it to Isadora. 

“Am I… supposed to eat that?” Isadora chuckled. 

“No, dummy. It’s a Wand of Feasting. Just think of a food and give it a wave.”

Hexatrix gave the wand a twist and, in a flurry of purple sparks, a single piece of buttered toast appeared in her hand.

“See?” Hex passed over the spoon, as she stuffed the toast in her mouth. “It works for drinks too. Alright, I have to get back before dawn or they’ll get suspicious. I’ll return the next day or so to check up on you.” 

“Alright. You be safe.” Isadora leaned in close and gave Hexatrix a peck on the cheek. “For luck.” 

Hexatrix struggled to contain the blush that crept up her neck, and could think of nothing more to say. She flew out the window like a whisper on the wind.

For the first time in seven years, Princess Isadora slept in. It was past noon when she finally kicked off the quilt and rose. There were no ladies-in-waiting to dress her, no pages badgering her about appointments. It was heaven on earth. 

She took a long bath and then relaxed amongst the plants. The watering can seemed to notice her, and bobbed around her like an airborne puppy. Isadora had a lovely time chatting with a garden tool that couldn’t talk back. When she returned to the loft for more books, the sun had almost set.

“Oh, I should eat something.” Isadora muttered, as her empty belly groaned. 

She waltzed over to the kitchen, where the Wand of Feasting had been left. She picked it up and held it at arm's length, as if it might explode at any moment. 

“Okay wand… garden salad with carrots?” Isadora said, asking for her usual dinner. 

In a flash of sparks a bowl filled with greens, tomatoes and carrots appeared on the table. Isadora sat down to dig in, but hesitated as she speared her first forkful. She looked at the wand. 

“This thing can make me… anything?” The Princess muttered, picking up the wand again. 

A litany of food began running through Isadora’s mind. It had been two years since she’d had roast chicken. Three years since she had mashed potatoes with butter. She couldn’t remember when she last had onion soup with cheese melted on top. The princess closed her eyes as memories of a chocolate cake she had at her tenth birthday washed into her memory.

It was moist and rich, with sugary cream and a custard filling. There were iced roses on top and a spun-sugar finch on top. The taste of it had her walking on air for the next three days…

Isadora opened her eyes. On the table was now a roast chicken, mashed potatoes with butter, onion soup, and an exact replica of her chocolate birthday cake. 

“Okay. Yeah. Well done wand." She said meekly. 

Isadora was trying to keep her breath even, the saliva in her mouth and her hunger in check. An insatiable ape of hunger, locked away for far too long, railed against the prison bars of temperance. For a moment, the discipline that had kept her willowy held. Then the smell hit her. The divine, warm smell of the feast. 

With all the dignity of a shipwrecked man, she threw herself on the food. Tears of pure joy flowed down her swollen cheeks. She shoved in as much as she could and never stopped chewing. When her fingers ran slick with butter or grease, she wiped them on her royal gown without a second thought. Bits of food soon covered the table around her, but Isadora paid them no heed. She was only focused on the intoxicating meal.

After thirty minutes of non-stop wolfing the princess leaned back and groaned. She was stuffed to the gills, a sensation that felt completely foreign to her. She had devoured half the chicken, massacred most of the potatoes, finished the soup and had two thick slices of the cake. The salad sat untouched. 

“Okay. That was…urp- that was great. Wand, magic away this delicious food.” 

Isadora waved the Wand of Feasting, but the feast remained. 

“Oh. Hmm.”

She tried again, more vigorously. The food stayed exactly where it was. 

“Um, okay.” Isadora thought furiously. “This will all go bad quickly and there’s no place to store it... I guess I could eat a little more.”

Absent-mindedly, she pulled to loosen the drawstring on her bodice. The relief in her gut was deeply welcome.

“Ohh, that’s better. Now back to that cake…”

The next hour was hazy at best for Isadora, as she made her way through the rest of the meal. She seemed to swim in and out of consciousness as more chicken and chocolate was crammed into her mouth. Uncertain of exactly how much she’d eaten, the princess did remember pushing herself away from the table, staggering to bed with her bulging gut in her hands, and collapsing beneath the sheets. Sleep took her instantly and held her under for hours.

When she awoke the next afternoon, the pain in her midsection had thankfully since subsided. Whether it was luck or a side-effect of the magic food, Isadora suffered no indigestion. She simply felt warm and full. It was a pleasant surprise, but when she looked at the kitchen table she was in for a shock. Every plate was empty, each dish devoured to completion. All that was left was the bones of the chicken and a wrinkly piece of lettuce. 

“Woof.” Isadora sighed, resting a hand on her still-swollen stomach. “I’m gonna have to be careful with you.”

She picked up the Wand of Feasting from where it had fallen on the floor, and felt her gut press up against her slender thigh. 

“Real careful. Okay.” She composed herself and gave it a quick flick. “Just an orange to start the day.”

The orange appeared. It looked very small and lonely. 

“And maybe an omelet.” She muttered. “With something healthy. Mushrooms. Peppers. Oh, and a little cheese. And a piece of toast. With butter. And another piece of toast with jam. And some blueberries. Ooh, and a blueberry scone would be nice. And if I’m having that I could try some blueberry pancakes. Oh and…”

It took Princess Isadora a whole two whole hours to finish breakfast, at which point she went right back to bed. The mattress groaned comfortingly upon her return.

[greatfay]

Wednesday: my thoughts

Ok, I watched Wednesday. And I liked it enough to pick it apart like string cheese.

The Good

Overall, a Scooby Doo-style supernatural teen murder mystery revolving around the iconic Wednesday Addams is a genius idea in theory, and turns out, not too shabby in execution. Watching this genuinely made me think “Chilling Adventures of Sabrina could’ve been this if it was made by someone who isn’t Roberto Aguirre Sacasa” because, turns out, this can work! It is aesthetically pleasing, the pacing is solid until it sags in the middle, and the casting choice are almost 10/10.

Jenna Ortega carries this show. She said “I am Wednesday” and we said yes ma’am, essays have been written about how great this performance is and I can contribute nothing new to it. I will add that Catherine Zeta-Jones as Morticia Addams is such a brilliant casting choice that I can’t believe I never thought of it, she nailed the role and managed to still make it her own by adding layers of glamorous poise and dreaminess to her character. Luis Guzman as Gomez was also perfect, especially paired with Catherine Zeta-Jones and Jenna Ortega. He has a genuine warmth to his screen presence that sells the whole point of Gomez as a character: a loving father and husband who is as supportive and generous as he is suave and debonaire. Gwendoline Christie is, as usual, having the time of her life as whatever character she plays, and Joy Sunday I think nailed her character to fit that archetype while still matching the tone of the show (something not everyone could do).

In general, I felt like the show runners knew that Wednesday herself was written so well that all they had to do was put her front and center and let that do most of the work, taking its time to establish her before introducing the Mystery, and I have to hand it to Tim Burton given the flops he’s delivered the past 15 years.

The explicit, canon Mexican-American heritage of Gomez and his children felt so natural and obvious. Like it’s one thing to have a Spanish or Latino actor play Gomez, it’s another for that ancestry, specifically Mexican ancestry and the displacement and trauma of experiencing colonization, to play a role in worldbuilding and characterization. It didn’t feel like it was just there for flavor.

The Bad

Convoluted Plot: The plot was doing fine until we got a double fakeout on the monster reveal that everyone could see coming a mile away, on top of overcomplicating the politics of Colonial Jericho and its relationship with “normies vs. outcasts.” I don’t know why Joseph Crackstone was leading the charge against outcasts (and Native Americans) to steal their land on the principle that they’re “abominations in the eyes of God” but at the same time, this guy is a fucking dark sorcerer. He’s doing Saurumon moves and there’s NO explanation, like what difference is there between him telekinetically tossing people around and girls like Wednesday having visions? Make it make sense. And like, the revenge plot: “I waited all this time to find a rare monster I can control to collect body parts and also the blood of the descendent of the witch who sealed my ancestor with blood magic so I could resurrect him with dark magic and then finally get our family’s revenge on the outcasts” girl please, please! MESS. We we were doing fine until then! And Wednesday’s revival via her necklace/talisman was such a cop out. Anyway...

Love Triangle: They really dug up the most boring, basic white boys to be love interests for Wednesday. Lbr she didn’t need love interests, and especially not two basic white boys! But if they had to... if it was in their contract or something that Netflix required a damn hetty het love triangle, there’s a way this could’ve been written to make me not eyeroll. Xavier was introduced in the pilot as the It Boy, that Dick-Slinger, the Resident Hottie™, and then spends the rest of the show swinging back and forth between “devilmaycare James Dean stand-in” and “whiny lil bitch.” Mind you he had every right to be pissed that Wednesday only asked him to the dance as a cover-up, sure, but I wouldn’t have written that. Wouldn’t have written the damn love triangle to begin with, but if they said “Write this love triangle between the two white boys or we kick your dog” what I would have done is write Xavier as a clever, mischievous little James Dean, slashed the daddy issues because that’s the other basic white boy love interest’s primary character trait, and made him way more savvy to Wednesday’s antics. She’s a force of nature; you can’t pair her up with a little rain cloud, the least a basic white boy could do is have some gale force wind charisma!! The moment she did that whole fake asking-out thing, he could’ve been like “So you’ve been desperately, madly in love with me this whole time? And here I thought you were sneaking around my private studio, looking for clues *winks* I’ll pick you up at 8, Velma. Dress like you’re in mourning.” Because that characterization would’ve made Xavier a better foil to Wednesday, and a bigger threat when she still suspected him of being the monster since he’s too clever to be manipulated. And Tyler! Boy has daddy issues and mommy issues?? Honeyyyyy. His character could still be the unassuming normie, but again, the best love interests are foils in some way. If he’d been written and portrayed as unfailingly cheery but introverted, and just unabashedly charmed by Wednesday’s morbid interests, I would’ve liked him more. Like, give me a country boy who’s got “good ole fashioned American values” which means of course he’s giving you a ride home, it’s late and dangerous, of course he remembered you mentioning your favorite book, Mama said you should give a lady your full attention when she speaks. And that leads me to my next gripe:

The Hyde reveal: when the Hyde was introduced in the plot, it was describe as a poorly understood, and under-researched member of the Outcast community. The big question was whether it was in a Hyde’s nature to be violent and cruel, if they are conscious of their actions, or if they are victims to a transformation they can’t control (which is a bit weird in a world where werewolves also exist, but they control their transformations and are relatively harmless). The moment we got that “How does it feel... to lose?” line, I was like noooo. NO. In my version of this show, Tyler is truly a cheery, all-smiles sweetheart who doesn’t blink when Wednesday brings up her pet scorpion, and instead asks “What was their name?” And it makes it more gut-wrenching and has way more narrative weight if Tyler isn’t in control of his transformations and has no idea he’s under someone’s spell, because then all the vindication Wednesday gets from solving the mystery gets slashed when it comes at the cost of a friend’s freedom and wellbeing.

The Antagonists: Obviously Christina Ricci was playing the Big Important Character. I knew it was her, I knew it I knew it. That’s fine. I liked her portrayal throughout the show, I do think her character lost narrative power in the last two episodes. I’m not a fan of when the Big Bad Guy gets replaced by a Bigger Bad Guy when the first Big Bad Guy had way more screen time dedicated to their buildup and character motives. Then there’s the sheriff, who frustrated me from Day One. Literally a jerkass from start-to-finish. The reveal that he knew his wife was a Hyde and suspected his son to be one too this whole time made his whole “I will get justice” shtick so fucking annoying, like you hypocritical bigot, you know who’s clawing mfers up left and right and he just ate the last of the fucking Cheerios in your fridge. Bianca as the first Arc Villain was great because I just can’t help but like a competent mean girl, especially when she’s not actually that mean, and the Principal was a good antagonist and obstacle for Wednesday. Do wish she was written to be a bit more savvy.

In my version of this show, the moment Wednesday was like “It’s Thornhill!” we would’ve had a quick transition to a close-up of Thornhill tapping her nails on the rail as she glides down the stairs in her greenhouse to the tune of “Back to Black” (to parallel Wednesday playing “Paint It Black”) as she’s legit jamming, like she’s shimmying and dancing her way down the stairs and having a good ass time, tossing off her polka dot jacket to reveal a black floral flowy top (the flowers will obviously be night shade), she pulls off her wig to reveal Amy Lee-style dark locks, and she is just living in her villainy. Her motivations will no longer be “the outcasts are why my family is dead, even though we’ve been harboring hatred for them since the 1600s” instead it’s “my family’s vendetta cost me a life of luxury and fortune and wealth” (because in this version, they would’ve lost the house due to her father’s alcoholism and gambling) “and I don’t actually give a damn about outcasts or normies, I just want to run the property values into the ground and set the world on fire. Whatever survives in the ashes, it belongs to me.” WE NEEDED A BAD BITCH. We needed someone who, in the end, is a strong parallel to Wednesday on the surface: a fascination with the macabre, a penchant for violence, deeply cunning and curious. But then the difference between them is that Thornhill is actually good at reading others’ emotions despite seeing everyone as disposable, while Wednesday is highly aware of emotional dissonance with her peers and family and the thought that she’s missing out on something causes her distress. This in turn could’ve been a deeper metaphor for the ease in which those who live in privilege and luxury can dehumanize others (Thornhill) vs those who are just straight up autistic and are thus othered and demonized for not conforming to or understanding social norms (Wednesday). Oh btw Wednesday is autistic, I don’t make the rules.

Anyway, in my version, when Wednesday confronts Thornhill, she gets away by smashing a vial of some smoky acid or something on the ground and gets away, but Wednesday chases after her while Principal Lady is coughing because it’s poison. Wednesday gets caught, blah blah blah, and instead of her coming back to life by absorbing her ancestor’s ghost, the Principal shows up and pours some of her blood into Wednesday’s wounds because shapeshifter-blood=healing, before succumbing to her own injuries and dying. That ^ could be planted earlier in the story with a quick flashback in episode 4(?) after Wednesday has tried to figure out why the Principal would cover up Rowan’s death and where this new “Rowan” actually went, and the Principal is being cagey, we could get a line like “I would do anything for my students. You’ve no idea.” And then a quick shot of her kneeling over Rowan’s lifeless body, weeping as she pours blood from her hand into his mouth and muttering “Come on, come on Rowan, wake up” then quick shot back to the office where the Principal is just cool and composed, refusing to give answers. Anyway, her saving Wednesday will have more to do with her genuine care plus her guilt for her part in having her father charged for murder, which won’t be because of a jealousy romance thing (which is so dry and tired) and will instead be due to her ambition and wanting to remove Morticia from the running of something important (like an internship at the New England Society of Necromancer’s Salem Branch or something).

The Ugly

Racism: Everyone’s tired of hearing about it, well I’m tired of talking about it. Tim Burton does not have a good history with race in his works. I, personally, don’t care if he never has black people in his works. If representation is handled with “colorblindness” or spite, I don’t want it. This situation had more of the former. If you don’t understand the context of how race relations work in the real world with your audience, it’s going to come out clumsy and jarring. Seeing a black boy dressed in a pilgrim costume, walking into a diner to bully a random girl he doesn’t know because she’s “different” for dressing in an identical aesthetic as he is, it makes no sense to me. Why would a black man have any personal investment in building a theme park surrounding European colonialism??? An oppression metaphor in a story just doesn’t sit well when the oppressing characters are cast as people who suffer under systemic oppression in real life. It’s so weird that Iman Marcus can start filming and play a character who is, technically in-universe, “privileged” financially and socially and politically, then he can walk off set and drive over to the nearest Starbucks and still get racially profiled by some corrupt ass LA cop regardless of his Netflix-paycheck.

It’s not so much that I find this morally repugnant, it’s that the moment I see it on screen, I’m reminded “ah this is fiction and I am watching a TV show.” Emotional and social inauthenticity (and cringe ass dialogue) makes it harder to suspend my disbelief than watching a sentient, severed hand receive defibrillation from a man with electric powers (legit made me emotional). Thought has to go into casting for this reason. I wasn’t as worried about Joy Sunday as Bianca, as being pretty and ambitious and a little mean isn’t exactly damning, though I still wonder if when she beats Wednesday in that fencing match, if we’re supposed to cheer her on and be happy that Wednesday was put in her place (I did, I was like “lil girl you’ve been here 2 seconds” and it was nice to know our protagonist wasn’t Perfect). Casting black actors as antagonists isn’t necessarily racist every single time; it becomes a problem when the antagonists are your only black characters, in a story revolving around “otherness” and discrimination. I did like that Bianca and Lucas and even Mayor Walker got more development (sad that the Mayor was murdered before he could redeem himself).

Also shoutout to the Netflix ASOUE for setting a more recent, modern precedent for that macabre, Gothic aesthetic that has dark-skinned people in it, there’s a good example of actors of color cast in various roles where their race doesn’t clash with their character. Black Mr. and Mrs. Poe are flawed, negligent adults and they could’ve been of any race. Aasif Mandvi as Uncle Monty was perfect, because embodying the warm intellectuals of the character wasn’t tied to his race; anyone could’ve played him. Alfre Woodard as Aunt Josephine was wonderful because all she needed to give the role was an eccentric portrayal of deep-set trauma and grief, the actress’s real-life race and social status aren’t at odds with how her character exists in-universe.

Queerbaiting: I only became aware of this after the show’s premier because I didn’t follow its promotional materials leading up to it. I’ve seen the posts on the official Netflix account. Yes it is queerbaiting, regardless of whether the person handling the account is an unpaid queer intern or a Netflix executive’s overly paid nephew. However, the actual writing of the show does not give queer baiting. Wednesday’s character “flaw” is her inability to prioritize the emotional and sometimes-physical wellbeing of others over her own agenda. This culminating in her falling out with Enid, and realizing Enid is her friend and cares for her, is not queerbaiting. We’re too late into this era to clamor for queer subtext crumbs to eat that up. Wednesday starts off a proud lone wolf with no friends to finding people who know exactly what they’re getting into when they become her friend and choose to do so anyway; she learns to take others’ wellbeing into account and gets friends, without compromising her own values and her personal boundaries (i.e. she hugged Enid when she was ready, when she was comfortable, not out of social obligation, and Enid gave her the space for that). Writing that arc meant that the writers paid attention to Wednesday character and maybe paid attention in Storybuilding 101 in college. It does not mean they intended a sapphic romance and then pulled the rug out from under us. And if you lot start grilling the actors on social media about their characters’ sexualities and then project those interpretations onto the actors and demand that they come out, I will find and kill you.

[theteasetwrites]

My Funny Valentine

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: pre-apocalypse (circa 2005) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mild swearing, brief mention of drugs, slightly suggestive ❧ Word Count: 4k

❧ Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and everyone seems happy, except for you. You had a terrible fight with your boyfriend, Daryl, and now you wonder if there's any salvaging V day. To your surprise, however, Daryl saves the day...

❧ A/N: Just a oneshot to celebrate Valentine's Day! Well, I am writing it at 11pm on February 14, but you know what, everyday is Valentine's Day on this blog (because I'm a sucker for a little romance). Enjoy, and happy Valentine's Day, friends!

“Will you marry me?”

Four words that so many women always dreamed of hearing since they were little girls, seeing on television grand romantic gestures of the utmost unrealistic quality, with dreamy men of Ken doll proportions, embodying the highest Hollywood standards of male beauty, all while framing the phrase with such pristinely written monolog that would give Nicholas Sparks a run for his money.

That was what you were taught to expect, and you had to admit, the moment you heard Eddie utter those words to Kathleen, down on one knee in the middle of the small local diner you waitressed at, you were, ashamedly, rather jealous.

“Oh, Eddie!” she gasped, quickly wiping her hands on her white apron over top the button-up, Peter Pan-collared red dresses you all wore as your uniform. Yourself and the other waitresses waited with bated breath, even those in the middle of taking orders and serving plates. “Yes! Of course!”

Kathleen eagerly extended her left hand, and with an excited flourish, Eddie slipped the diamond ring onto her designated finger. Almost everyone in the diner clapped or cheered. What else was there to do? How could one be a captive audience to a public proposal on Valentine’s Day and not cheer for the newly engaged couple? It was simply proper etiquette, especially in such a small town, where everyone knew each other, and surely a failure to engage in the celebration would be considered an act of war.

Setting the coffee pot you were holding on the bar, you clapped, too, exchanging smiles and wide-eyed gawks of surprise with the other waitresses.

“Ladies,” said Kathleen, a cheeky grin upon her face as if she had something to hide. She held her left hand behind her back, then jutted it out before you, and Jessica, Terri, Nora, and Suzanne all huddled around behind the bar to see the coveted engagement ring. “What do you think?”

Your bottom lip dropped slightly as the shine danced off the crisp white diamond with every slight movement of her hand. It had an iridescent quality, and a silver band with a dozen or so much smaller diamonds encrusted in the metal.

It was rather gaudy, in your opinion, and much too large and showy, but it was more the sentiment that got to you—the fact that Kathleen had been looking at this ring for several months, waiting for her boyfriend to propose and constantly showing you and the others everything she had planned for the wedding that wasn’t even set in stone yet.

He had gotten her exactly the one she wanted, and it was almost nauseatingly sweet. You only wished you could be so lucky for your boyfriend to do something special like that for you.

Granted, you could certainly do without the public proposal, but it seemed like the kind of thing Kathleen wanted, and it definitely was.

“Wow,” you gaped. “I can’t believe he got you the exact one.”

Eddie clasped a hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “Yeah, the most expensive one in the shop.”

She elbowed his side playfully. “Was not!”

“Anything for my girl,” he replied, and kissed her cheek in yet another display of affection that amazed you, considering your boyfriend, Daryl, was never like that with you, even after five years of being together. “You ladies mind if she comes home early? Gotta start planning the wedding.”

“Fine with me,” said Suzanne, the owner of the old diner, and a kind of mother figure to everyone. “Just punch your timesheet ‘fore you go.”

You all sent her off with hugs and congratulations, and soon it was closing time, when all the couples out on their dates for Valentine’s Day left for home to enjoy each other’s company for the rest of the night, and yourself and the other waitresses were left to clean up after them.

But then, you all had boyfriends or husbands back at home, too, but you weren’t expecting anything for Valentine’s Day tonight, not after what had happened yesterday night.

“You’ve been in a mood all day,” said Jessica, wiping down a table next to you as you stacked the chairs atop the one in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just tired.”

“Baloney,” said Terri as she dried the last of the glasses. “She’s never this sad.”

“Only when she fights with her man,” interjected Nora.

You scoffed. “I’m right here, you know. No need to refer to me in the third person… Besides, it doesn’t matter.”

Nora wrung out the mop above the bucket. “Of course it matters. Merle again?”

Merle. You didn’t even want to hear his name, let alone think about what an asshole he was to Daryl. Of course, he was an asshole to you, too, always either making fun of your relationship with his younger brother, or sexualizing you to a degree you weren’t comfortable with in the slightest, and yet, Daryl still looked up to him like there was anything in that man to look up to.

“Yeah,” you huffed. “Had a big fight last night.”

“What is it this time?” asked Jessica. “Which name did Merle call you this time?”

“Bitch?” asked Nora.

“No, whore,” added Terri.

“Slut,” suggested Suzanne, in her scratchy voice, coated in gravel from years of smoking. “He calls her a slut.”

You laughed and shook your head as you crossed over to the bar to wipe it down.

“Not the C word?” inquired Nora, with wide eyes at the idea of Merle using the dreaded C word.

Jessica gasped. “If he called you that, Daryl should break the bastard’s jaw.”

“That man could call me anything,” you replied, “and Daryl would still worship the ground he walks on. But he didn’t call me anything this time… It’s this… I don’t know, motorcycle road trip they wanna go on this weekend. They want to ride all the way up to Ohio, and I wouldn’t have a problem with it, but Merle’s got all these drug connections that he wants to hit up on the way, and I just don’t want Daryl getting involved with that again, you know? Merle got him into so much trouble the last time… and I was the one who had to bail him out.”

You immediately palmed your face in frustration, realizing you’d just probably revealed way too much information than they needed. Of course, working in a diner with the same ten or so people everyday made you all incredibly close, but you also knew Daryl was not a fan of being involved in gossip.

Still, you didn’t consider it gossip so much as therapy.

“Oh, boy,” sighed Nora. “So it didn’t end well I’m assuming?”

“Just in time for Valentine’s Day,” you said in a sarcastic tone. “He called me a bitch this time. He said I’m getting in between him and his brother, and that I’m not respecting what he wants, or something like that.”

“I hope he slept on the couch,” said Suzanne, waving her now lit cigarette around in the air as she pontificated.

“Oh, he did,” you said. “And he’s sleeping on the couch again tonight…” You trailed off, and sighed as you emptied the last of the coffee in the sink. “I hate fighting with him, especially about his brother. It’s not that I don’t want Daryl to spend time with him, it’s just… Well, Merle is an asshole to him, and I don’t care if he messes up his own life, but when it comes to Daryl’s…”

“I know, babe,” said Jessica, offering you a comforting smile before squeezing your shoulders from behind. “You were in the right, though. He just doesn’t want to believe it.”

“No, no,” you said. “I had my fair share of punch-downs, too. Called him a dick, an asshole… Said he doesn’t have the balls to say no to Merle… Yeah, I was pissed off. I’m sure the neighbors could’ve heard us screaming at each other… He didn’t even talk to me this morning, and usually we make up by then. He just went to work, didn’t say goodbye like he usually does, certainly didn’t say ‘I love you.’ Maybe I blew it… Maybe this is the end.”

Nora shook her head vehemently. “No way,” she said. “Five years together for it to end like that? You two hardly ever fight, anyway. I’m sure you’ll make up. Just sucks that it happens to be Valentine’s Day.”

You scoffed, thinking to yourself how you and Daryl had never really celebrated Valentine’s Day anyway. Every year the minor commercial holiday came around, both of you were busy at your respective jobs, you waitressing all day, and Daryl fixing up cars at the auto shop on the other side of town.

It was true, though, that fights were relatively rare for a couple who’d been together as long as you two had. There were often moments of petty bickering, but most of the time, you got along, and you loved each other.

You loved Daryl to the point that you did everything for him without him even asking. That was how you showed your love, by folding his laundry, bringing him lunch from the diner on your breaks, making his coffee in the mornings before he awoke, mending his shirts when they inevitably ripped… Leaving little sticky notes around the house was your favorite way of telling him you loved him, though.

They always had some kind of little romantic phrase, and you always put them in new, interesting places. Sometimes you’d leave a particularly steamy one in his boxer shorts, or one complimenting his appearance on the bathroom mirror.

The phrases were often along the lines of—

You look handsome today.

My heart belongs to you.

Never change.

Sexy beast.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world to have you.

You’re my knight in shining armor.

I have a surprise for you tonight… (sex!)

No one compares to you.

And the perennial classic, the one that summed it all up, I love you.

Truly, in your mind, everyday was Valentine’s Day, except today.

“I just feel like he hates me now… And the whole proposal thing doesn’t help.”

Suzanne shook her head and blew a puff of smoke as she counted the cash register. “Eddie’s an idiot,” she said. “I give ‘em a year. Tops.”

You playfully smacked her back with a dry rag. “Hey! Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her, but… I wish Daryl would do something like that for me. I mean, not the whole… public proposal. I don’t even care if he ever proposes, I just want something romantic for once.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” added Suzanne. “Don’t be the first one to apologize. Let him grovel. You’re too good for him.”

You shook your head and laughed. “I’ll see how long I can hold out… I can’t go too long without him.”

That sentiment proved true when you had a spring in your step at the end of your shift, walking hurriedly to your car in the moonlit diner parking lot.

Though you might’ve been on bad terms with Daryl for the moment, you wanted to see him. The day’s disappointment of being shoved in the face with Kathleen’s engagement annoyed you, but mostly, you just wanted to be held.

Daryl always held you the best, and all during the drive home, you found yourself thinking about how good it would feel to sink into his warm, cozy embrace after a long hard day at the diner. Usually, that was how your days ended, in Daryl’s arms, safe and feeling so loved by him, but every time you remembered what he’d said to you last night, you were reminded that the last thing he’d want to do tonight is hold you.

Your doubts were interrupted by the curiosity that befell you as you stepped out of your car onto the driveway. It was uncharacteristic for Daryl to light the myriad candles you kept around the tiny, one-bedroom duplex, but it seemed from the flicker of warm yellow light leaking through the slats of the Venetian blinds that at least a few were alight.

For a moment, you even feared there was a house fire, and began searching frantically for your keys in your purse as you walked up to the front door.

“Daryl?” you called out softly, not wanting to wake him in case he was asleep at the late hour, though he rarely went to sleep before you.

You squinted your eyes curiously as you shut the door, your head moving in every direction to take in the state of the place.

It was pristine.

Well, you always kept it pretty clean, but the whole living room was much more immaculate than you had left it, with the throw pillows upon the couch that Daryl never saw the point of fluffed and meticulously arranged, and every auto part and tool Daryl tended to lay around mysteriously missing. Even the wood floor was shining in the light of the candles, freshly mopped and polished.

Peering into the kitchen, you took note of the assortment of tea lights and scented candles in the center of the dining table, along with a simple bouquet of dried flowers, expertly made to still hold their vibrant color without the devastation of having to throw them away when they would die.

Daryl knew your only complaint, if it could be called a complaint, about receiving flowers was that they would inevitably die, and that you couldn’t keep them forever. A dried bouquet, the perfect solution… You hadn’t even thought about it.

What was more, the table was set, with two plates and neatly placed silverware on either side. There was even a new bottle of wine beside the flowers, and propped up against it was a Hallmark greeting card with two lovebirds in an embrace.

When you finished gaping at the setup, you began to notice the faint notes of music in the air, coming from your record player.

“No way,” you laughed, immediately recognizing the swirling, ethereal soundscapes of the Cocteau Twins, with Liz Fraser’s angelic voice softly hanging above the jangly instrumentals of the song “Cherry-Coloured Funk.”

It was a special album to you, Heaven or Las Vegas. You’d played it a lot when you and Daryl first started dating, and you had a few distinct memories of making out and fondling each other on the hood of his old blue pick-up truck while the tape played on the staticky stereo.

Once you’d gotten so carried away, with the music and the bare moonlight streaming down upon the two of you, that you accidentally bit Daryl’s tongue so hard it bled, and he yelped a little at the feeling, but insisted upon continuing, not wanting to ever stop kissing you.

You could still taste the blood on your tongue, and though you hated that you had hurt him, you loved the memory.

“Shit!” you heard him curse from the hallway, and the familiar, heavy footsteps, albeit going much faster than usual, made your heart beat twice as fast and your breath hitch in excitement to see him.

You turned to see him, wearing the white button-up shirt with quarter length sleeves that he often wore for special occasions, the one that was rather cheaply made, and thus see-through enough to show the outline of his beautiful body, which just made you love the shirt even more.

His hair was going in every direction, and you swore you even saw a red rose petal stuck somewhere between those soft, caramel brown locks of his, but maybe you were imagining it in the haze of the atmosphere.

Then, as he wiped his hands on his jeans, a few rose petals fell by his feet, and you knew you weren’t imagining it.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat and quickly raised his hands to straighten up his hair. “You weren’t supposed to see this. I mean, you were, but I was gonna…” He shook his head and broke out into a small, nervous smile. “Shit, I wanted to see your face.”

You gawked and pointed to your smile. “You see it. I’m amazed!”

He huffed out a deep breath and just looked at you for a while, eyes soft and hazy and his subtle smile crooked and boyish.

“Ya like it?”

“Of course I like it! I love it. You did all this for me?”

He nodded, and his eyes suddenly widened before he jogged past you, heading into the kitchen to pull the garlic bread out of the oven.

“Phew,” he sighed. “It didn’t burn.”

You covered your mouth and laughed at his domesticity. He was always terribly cute when he tried to cook anything but meat. You usually handled that department.

“You made dinner?”

He began cutting the loaf of garlic bread into pieces, and tossing them carefully into a basket.

“Uh, yeah… Made bread, that shrimp pasta stuff ya like…” He turned around and leaped to the other side of the kitchen to open the fridge, from which he pulled out a pink cardboard box. “Cake.” He broke out into another sweet smile, hoping to impress you just a little.

“Oh, Daryl,” you sighed. “You didn’t have to do all that… I mean, especially after—”

“Hey,” he interjected, setting down the cake box and walking over to you to tentatively take both of your hands in his. “I’m… real sorry about last night. Things I said, they weren’t okay. Not at all… And you were right. I don’t need to go on that trip with Merle.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head in disbelief. “No, Daryl, I’m sorry. I said some awful things, too. Awful things that I didn’t mean. And Merle… You should go with him if that’s what you want to do… I just worry about you getting into trouble. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

His lips quirked into a small, understanding smile, but he raised your hand to his lips and kissed your palm.

“I ain’t goin’. Thought I’d stay home and make sure my girl’s happy, anyway. She’s more important.”

You shrugged your shoulders and laughed in flattery. “Oh, little old me? I’m already happy… Is, um… Is dinner ready? I’m starving.”

Daryl leaped into action and took the pasta off the stove to bring it over to the table, then moved like a madman to bring the garlic bread over, too.

“You’re too sweet,” you said in admiration of his gesture. “How’d you have time to do all this?”

He looked up from the table where he meticulously arranged the setup one last time.

“Left work early,” he said, eliciting a wide-eyed stare from you. Daryl never left work early, or took time off. “Used some sick time… Thought I’d do somethin’ special for once. You deserve it.”

You cupped your heated cheeks with your hands. “Oh, hon! You used sick time? Baby, I—”

He rushed over to you and pressed a kiss to your lips, then dragged you by the hips over to the table with his sweet mouth still on yours.

“Sit,” he insisted as he pulled out your chair for you. “You’re eatin’ good tonight. Eat as much as ya want. Eat the whole goddamn thing, I just wanna make it up to ya.”

You sat yourself down and felt him push your chair forward, eliciting an amused smirk from you.

“Who knew you could be such a gentleman?”

“That’s right, kitten,” he said before placing a kiss on your hair. He reached forward to grab your card and hold it in front of you to take.

You shook your head at the gesture, still so shocked he’d done so much just for you.

Opening the card, you immediately broke out into laughter at the amount of words scratched out. Knowing Daryl and his perfectionism, he must’ve written several phrases, been dissatisfied with their inadequacy to portray his feelings, and wrote some more until he had the perfect sentiment.

Between messy lines cross hatching out several words, you were able to make out his sentences, as sloppily written in his familiar scrawl as they were:

Kitten

You know I’m not so good with words, but I hope you also know how much I love you.

I love how much you care, and all the things you do to keep me in line. Most of all, I love your heart. It’s so beautiful and sweet, and you always make me feel like I can do anything, just cause I have you.

I’m sorry that sometimes I don’t appreciate you like I should, and I say things I don’t mean. Hurting you is the worst thing I could ever imagine, and I just want you to know that I’m never, ever gonna stop loving you.

Happy V Day

Love Daryl

You raised your head to look at Daryl, who sat across from you now, his face framed by the dried flowers between you.

“Oh, Daryl,” you sighed. “You’re just a big softie, aren’t you?”

He narrowed his eyes playfully as he took a sip of wine. “You best start eatin’ ‘fore I take that pasta back.”

Dinner was the best you’d had in a while, after so long of eating leftovers from the diner.

Not only that, but Daryl obliged your request to dance with you, despite his general aversion to the practice.

He stepped on your feet a few times, and both of you tripped over each other rather clumsily, and the consumption of wine didn’t help.

As was wont to happen in the candlelight, dancing to music that set your heart aflame, you found yourself wrapped up in his arms, your tongues slipping past each other desperately as he led you down the hallway into the bedroom, where another surprise awaited you.

You’d never seen a real life bed covered in red rose petals, or so many candles lit at once to the point you worried about a fire hazard, but everything was so beautiful that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak for a few moments as he pecked your cheek.

“Is it too much?” he asked, a bit of worry settling onto his face when he noticed you simply staring in awe at the bedroom. “I can take ‘em off if ya want.”

You shook your head and beamed at him. “I love it. It’s a dream. Thank you, hon. For everything.”

He smirked shyly as you ran your fingers appreciatively through his hair.

“No need ta thank me. Shoulda been doin’ it for ya a long time ago, with everythin’ ya do for me… Sorry I ain’t better, like Eddie, but I’m gonna try to be better from now on, spoil ya like ya deserve.”

You shook your head. “Daryl, you already spoil me. You do so much for me, you don’t even know how happy you make me. I don’t do what I do for you to expect anything in return, I just do those things because I love you, and it makes me happy to make you happy.”

You leaned forward to kiss him again, this time more demandingly as you began unbuttoning his shirt.

“You wanna know how you can make me even happier tonight?” you asked.

He swallowed hard and trailed a finger up your dress to pull your collar away, and to look down at your cleavage with a dreamy smile.

“Think I know, kitten.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

Masterlist

[amazingmaeve]

Neck kisses ━ p. parkinson

─ “i love it when you kiss my neck.”

summary ─ y/n loves it when pansy kisses her neck

request ─ a pansy smut requester with the numbers 22 27 29 please 🥺

warnings ─ smut (18+)

a/n ─ love writing for pansy!

word count ─

tags ─ @chokemepansy @faerabella @amourtentiaa @inglourious-imagines

Soft kisses flutter against Y/Ns shoulder as she stares at herself in the mirror. Her hands explore Y/Ns body as she leans her head against Pansys shoulder. Y/Ns breath hitches as Pansys hands trace the top of her skirt. This wasn’t how this started with tender touches; it was much worse.

“I love it when you kiss my neck,” Y/N remembers saying to the Slytherin girl who was too preoccupied sucking and kissing her neck.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be for Y/N and Pansy. With Pansy being a pure blood with pure blood family who didn’t like muggles, which is what Y/N Y/L/N was. Pansy believed everything her parents told her, until she met Y/N. A bright witch the same age as her that made her heart flutter. Pansy didn’t know why she was feeling like that but she did.

Y/N and Pansy hated each other when they got to Hogwarts, with Pansy being friends with Draco and his little group and Y/N being friends with the golden trio. They despised each other so much that Y/N almost casted a hex on her in their third year when they were saying some crude comments about Harry.

“God I can’t believe how pathetic Potter is,” Y/N heard Pansy say loudly to his friends as she walked down the hallway. She tried her best to ignore them but they just kept getting louder and louder.

“Yeah and his mudblood friends along with the Weasley who looks like he can’t even afford the clothes on his back,” Malfoy smugly retorted looking at Y/N who’s temper just hit ten and felt like she was about to explode at the slytherins. They crossed the line when he mentioned her and Hermiones blood status.

“I know it's too bad those dementors didn’t take them away,” Pansy faked a dreamy sigh Y/N clenched her teeth walking over to the slytherins and took her wand out and pointed Malfoy but Pansy stepped in front of him. “Are you gonna hex me,” She mockingly said.

“Don’t test me Parkinson,” Y/N hissed gripping her wand tighter but deep down she knew she wouldn’t do it and she knew she shouldn’t waste her time on them but they just make her so angry.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor McGonagall gasped out of shock at seeing one of her prime students about to hex one of her peers. “What is going on here,” She separated the two girls.

“She was gonna hex me,” Pansy faked a cry as crocodile tears cascaded down her cheeks. Professor McGonagall furrowed her eyebrows in confusion; she knew that Y/N wouldn’t have done this without reason but according to rules she had to be punished. Before Y/N could get a peep out McGonagall stopped her.

“Miss Y/L/N follow me,” McGonagall sternly said then walked away leaving Y/N to glare at the girl in anger before she swiftly followed behind the professor leaving smug slytherins.

That wasn’t their only fight. Over the years they kept making snide comments to each other which led to detention for both or one or the other, depending on the teacher. If it was Snape he would allow Pansy to walk off scott free and Y/N expected it with that teacher knowing he favored his own house.

The attraction towards Y/N didn’t start until their fifth year when she saw Y/N studying in the library. Butterflies erupted in Pansys stomach as she stared at the girl she detested for so long.

Pansy tried to shake that feeling off her since her parents would hate it if she got together with a muggle. But Pansy couldn’t stop staring at Y/N longingly as she studied in the library. The way that she bit her lip in concentration and she flipped the page and jotted notes down for the class. Pansy looked in awe but it soon turned to disgust as she thought the revolting things. She couldn’t like her. She spent these years hating her.

Y/N’s attraction towards Pansy started later that year (5th). She had just finished practice with Dumbledore's army and she caught Pansy looking at her. Once Pansy caught her a blush painted the cheeks of the girl who was starting which made Y/Ns stomach flutter. Why? Y/N thought to herself why is she feeling this way towards a girl she loathed for years.

It kept happening, Pansy staring at her and Y/N staring back which made Pansy look down in embarrassment.

“You’ll be doing this assignment in pairs,” Y/N heard Snape's cold voice which broke her concentration. Snape started to list off the pairs with his usual harsh tone. “.....Parkinson and Y/L/N,” Snape lists and Y/N’s head shot up when she heard her name being said. Of course it was with Parkinson. Once Snape stopped listing everyone went to their respective places while Y/N went to sit next to Pansy who had a sour look on her face.

“Don’t be so mad about it and let’s get this done and over with,” Y/N sneered a glare painted on her face as she got out her book and started to list some of the ingredients off while Pansy just rolled her eyes.

“Can’t believe I got paired with you,” Pansy muttered under her breath and even though under everything she knew that she was kind of happy to be working with Y/N but just didn’t want to admit it.

“You think I’m jumping for joy having to work with you,” Y/N says sarcasm dripping in her voice as she looks up to meet Pansys green eyes. “Because believe me I’d rather work with anyone but you,” She hissed.

For the first time in a while Pansy felt a pang in her heart. She knew she liked Y/N and hearing her say those words made her feel hurt. Like when she got in trouble for messing around with the golden trio but this made her feel even worse.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Pansy muttered her eyes focused on her paper as Y/N looked at her confused. It looked as if she had been sad but what would Parkinson be sad about, they’ve been squabbling ever since first year so why would this hurt her.

Over the next few days Pansy and Y/N have been meeting up for this project and Y/N felt like she was getting closer with the girl. They were joking around more often even though still making snide remarks. Y/N felt her heart race when she had to meet with Pansy.

Her friends often asked if she was okay working with Pansy and she always responded saying that she could handle her.

When the last sessions of them studying Y/N felt almost disappointment as almost though that she would miss working with Pansy. She met with Pansy at her dorm this time instead of her own. Everyone was gone at their classes or in the common room. But Y/N never got over the eerie feeling from the Slytherin common room.

She sat next to Pansy on her bed with green blankets as they finally had finished the assignment the Snape gave them.

“Finally,” Y/N yawned, stretching her arms, feeling her elbows crack. Pansy gave her a tight smile. Before a thought entered her mind this was the last she was going to see Y/N with nice formalities at least. So she decided to make the best out of this situation and lean in and kiss her.

The kiss surprised Y/N as she felt her kiss her, she didn’t respond at first which made Pansy retreat in disappointment but Y/N grabbed the back of her neck and gave her a kiss which surprised her. Of course Pansy kissed back as she put her hands on her hips tenderly massaging them.

The two of them caught for dominance as Pansy finally won and slipped her tongue to let it massage Y/N’s. Y/N moaned into her mouth feeling elated by this kiss. She has never kissed a girl and she has to say it's the best kiss of her life.

“Wow,” Pansy and Y/N said in unison shock going through their veins as they stared at each other with smiles. Pansy hid a smirk while Y/N shyly smiled. They both giggled and started to kiss each other again. That’s as far as it went for that a moment in time they just kissed.

Their first time was much more special.

Pansy and Y/N just kept sneaking around so nobody would catch them. Pansy stopped picking on Y/N and her friends but that didn’t stop Malfoy from doing it though. Even though on opposite sides of their friend group that didn’t stop the passionate moments between the two.

The first time was special to the both of them. It was one night where everyone went out to honeydukes leaving the two of them alone with a few wondering students who were minding their own business.

It was a magical night and after it all laid under the covers pleasured looks on their faces as they intertwined their hands smiles painting their lips. Y/N would never forget that night and neither would Pansy.

Which lead them to the almost the end of the year as they were cooped up in Pansys room where Y/N stood with Pansy behind her kissing her neck. Fingers tracing the hem of her skirt. A happy smile was draped onto Y/N’s as she enjoyed her touch. The tests this year were harder and which made her more stressed. So after every test was done Pansy and Y/N finally got some alone time.

“I just want to please you love,” Pansy whispered in Y/N’s ear making a shiver go down her spine as Pansys fingers finally seeped underneath the fabric of the skirt. Y/N was already soaking from all the teasing that Pansy had done and she smirked feeling her arousal.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me,” Y/N whimpered as Pansy’s fingers began to circle her clothed clit. Pansy hummed feeling the wetness come in contact with her fingers. She trailed her fingers under the panties and began to softly circle the swollen nub.

Y/N moaned when Pansy made contact with the sensitive part. She hated the effect Pansy had on her. Pansy began to rub faster and faster as Y/N could feel her orgasmt about to approach.

But then abruptly Pansy stopped and removed her fingers from her panties bringing them to her own mouth sucking the juices off them.

“You taste so good love let me get a better one,” Pansy seductively smirked bringing herself to her knees pulling Y/Ns panties down and throwing them across the room and she smirked at Y/Ns shocked reaction. Pansy rubbed Y/Ns thighs soothingly as Y/N herself clench around nothing feeling herself get more aroused. “You ready princess,” She whispered letting her breath fan across her pussy. Her skirt was lifted so it covered Pansy’s head.

Once Pansy’s lips wrapped around the swollen nub Y/N moaned loudly grabbing the back of her head and pulling on her hair. She breathed and moaned loudly as Pansy kept sucking hard on her clit. She trailed her fingers to the inside of her thigh and circled her entrance as Y/N closed her eyes from the pleasure.

Pansy entered her fingers and curled them so they hit her g spot and Y/N almost lurched forward as her fingers came in contact with that spot. And all the while her lips still around the sensitive nub. But not for long as she released her lips and pushed her skirt higher so she could see Y/N’s reaction and what she was doing to her pussy. Y/N clenched around her fingers as she felt herself getting closer and closer.

Pansy kept thrusting her fingers in while her thumb made its way to her clit and began to massage the sensitive nerve.

“I’m gonna cum,” Y/N whined as Pansy rubbed her clit at the perfect pace while her fingers kept thrusting in harder and harder and still kept hitting her g spot.

“Cum all over my fingers like the dirty girl you are,” Pansy said with a smirk on her face while she kept thrust and removed her thumb and brought her lips back to her clit and began to suck as well. That’s all it took for Y/N to moan out Pansy’s name loudly and to see stars

Pansy lapped at her sensitive nerve as Y/N came down from her high. Y/N let out a happy sigh as she finally reached her high. Pansy kissed up her body and made her way towards her mouth.

She wrapped her hands around her cheek and leaned in and kissed. As Y/N kissed her she tasted herself on her lips which made her clench around nothing.

“Don’t worry love we’re not finished yet.”

[oikadori]

A/N: No one asked for this but I really wanted to write some angsty fic...so this is the outcome of listening to Callum Scott and Conan Gray for three full days asfkasjk sorry this is the longest thing I’ve written Hope you like it!

Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Summary: He was your best friend and she was perfect, but still you fell for him

Genre: angst, unrequited love 

Warnings: self-doubt, insecurity, swearings 

Now playing: Dancing On My Own, Heather 

WC~2,6K

You should already be used to hear it, but every time Atsumu let out a booming laugh you couldn’t help staring at him with dreamy eyes.

“Oi, Y/N!  Are you even listening to me?” his hazel eyes open, looking at you playfully.

“Yes, I’m hearing you, and no, it wasn’t as funny as you think” he frowns, pushing you from your chair almost making you fall if it wasn’t for his quick grip on your forearm, “You asshole!”

“Why so harsh on me today, sweetheart?”

Yo feel your stomach twist at the nickname, making Atsumu smile at the way your cheeks get a dark red.

“Because you were a total dick with those poor girls” he sighs, tired, stretching his arms behind his head, “You could’ve been nicer, you know?”

Biting your lip, you remember the teary eyes of those girls as they ran away sobbing after they had told him their love confession. Would you have the same luck if- No, no way you had a crush on him.

“They have a crush just on my looks, it’s annoying”, he spits, “Why do you care so much anyways?”

“I…-” he looks at you with curiosity as you carefully think your words, “-I guess I would feel horrible if I were them and confessed”

“Don’t tell me you have a crush on someone Y/N”

“Of course not, all of you ,men, are idiots”, he place his hand on his chest with a wounded look, making your eyes roll, a smile tickling your lips, “Now, hurry with your homework, you’re stealing my lunch time”

He reaches for his bag, taking out his lunch box to hand you the extra Onigiri he had. You smile fondly even if it is not the first time he brings you food during your study sessions.

He was your best friend, yet his gestures never failed to dazzle you.... Maybe you do have a crush on him.

 ///

You enter the gym with a tired look, a yawn slips pass your lips before sitting on the bleachers, you plug your earbuds and take out an unfinished assignment from your bag. The second years wave at you, Atsumu sticking his tongue out, you wave back before locking eyes with him and returning the gesture, making the setter grin.

The next time you lift your eyes from your work, you open them wide before taking off your earbuds to listen to the scene in front of you.

A girl wearing the team’s jacket enter the gym alongside the captain, making it feel as if the time stop. The team look at them in surprise as she bows.

“I’m eager to be your new manager! I used to play but-” she points at her wrist with a shy smile,” I got pretty bad injured so I hope I can be helpful here”, you advert Atsumu’s gaze, making your heart flinch a little.

“I’m Miya Atsumu, setter, I haven’t see ya around before” the girl looks at him with an eager look, leaning closer, a happy smile on her face as Atsumu stands still, the smirk on his face fades as she erases the gap between them. ‘The hell is she doing?’

“Oh, I know you! The star setter, guess what they say about you is truth-”, you wait for the usual compliments girls told him all the time, your lips curve up a little remembering Atsumu’s usual reaction at them, “-your serves are truly monstrous, your technique is impeccable”

His eyes glimmer with curiosity and you notice the light blush on his cheeks as he gives her his best smile. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve seen him flirting with girls, hooking up with one before getting another, but this…this was different.

You stand up before properly thinking what you are doing. You haven’t felt jealous before and you didn’t have the right for it, but an overwhelming despair sets the pace of your feet as they move towards them.

“I used to be a setter myself but-“

“Hey, Tsumu, see you after practice to finish our chemistry homework?” you peek your head between them, making the girl take a few steps back, a surprise look on her face. Atsumu looks at your innocent smile and blinks.

“Y/N, I told you not to call me that in practice-” he whispers to you, hiding it with a few coughs, “Uhmm, sure” the couch calls them and he waves at you before jogging off with the new manager to line up with the rest.

Your eyes linger on them a few more seconds, he laughs with her, making you furrow your eyebrows together, noticing just now, how beautiful she was.

///

“You still look like crap”

“Shut up, Samu!

You stand between the twins near the main door of the cafeteria, watching Atsumu run his hand through his hair multiple times as he stares at his reflection on one of the windows ‘All that… for her?’

A voice that comes from behind you, makes Atsumu look over your shoulder with a nervousness you haven’t seen before.

“Tsum Tsum!”

He gasps at the sight of her, the short dress she is wearing frames her figure perfectly, and you can’t help to look at your own clothes wondering if you couldn’t have dressed more casually.

You remain silent as she reaches for his hair and ruffles it friendly, the display in front of you feels surreal, suddenly your limbs are numb and your eyes can’t seem to drift away from Atsumu’s happy smile as he grabs her wrist to kiss her hand.

“You look stunning”

“What a gentleman – Oh, hey ‘Samu and-“

“Y/N” the words come sharper than you intended, the girl just let out an innocent giggle

“I’m so sorry! I don’t get to see you a lot in school, you’re in the advanced classes, right?”

“Y/N is a genius, they wouldn’t allow me to play if it wasn’t for her”, Atsumu says pointing at you with pride while his other hand rests on the small of her back guiding her to your table. A lump forms on your throat, making it impossible for you to reply, you  manage to pull an empty smile.

On the table you are silent as ever, nodding at all the conversations the second years try to include you in. Your mind is already far away, wondering all the possibilities that could happen if you were brave enough to confess right there, right now, but the sight in front of you snaps you to reality again.

Atsumu lips gets stained by some red sauce and before you can point it out, she licks her thumb before pressing it on his lips. His cheeks turn bright red and his jaw slightly slacks open.

“How is that you aren’t already dating? It’s been almost three months since you are all over each other” Suna casually says

Three months indeed, and she entered more and more in their small circle. But how could you stop it when she was just…so lovely?

 Atsumu stayed until much later in practice but still you chatted together. Late night texts, becoming in late night calls to check up on each other.

‘I want to ask her out. Fuck, I want her so badly, but what if she rejects me, Y/N!’

‘Tsumu, you’re Japan’s top high school setter. Believe me, she won’t reject you’

Now you want to hit your head against the nearest wall, remembering your stupid words.

“Would you say yes if I ask you out?” 

“I would say yes to more than that” the table falls dead silent at her words as if they waited for the next scene of a movie.

 Suddenly Atsumu press his lips against hers with ferocity, she pulls the collar of his shirt, deepening the already heated kiss. You almost choke on your water, earning a concern look from Kita, you find yourself standing up violently before rushing to the restroom.

You close the door behind you before looking at yourself in the mirror, ‘I could have never competed with her’. You bite your lip, and shut your eyes tightly, your hands grasping both sides of the sink, you let your head fall forwards, eyes fixed on the white of the porcelain as they water.

“Y/N, are you okay?” you stiffen at the soft female voice coming from the other side of the door, “Do you need help?”, you let out an humorless laugh. ‘A sweetheart with everyone, huh?’

“I-I don’t feel good, it’ll better if I head home. Please tell the others, I had an emergency or something” your throat feels extremely dry all of sudden and your voice comes out shaky.

“Oh! I can take you home-“

“I’ll rather go alone! I don’t know if I’m sick and I’d hate to…infect you. Thank you, tho”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”

“Okay…text me when you get home!”

When you hear the footsteps fading away, you wait a few more minutes to walk out the restroom, just to find Atsumu talking cheerfully, his eyes filled with adoration for her. He didn’t even look at your direction as you left the cafeteria, and in that very moment you realized he would never look at you that way.

 ///

“Where is Y/N, I haven’t seen her in years?”

“I think she is tutoring some first years”

“Oh” Atsumu finds himself looking at your usual spot on the bleachers, he barely got to see or talk to you in the recent weeks. 

You’ve been missing his calls on purpose. Since that dinner, you had to put all your energy to smile at him when he waved at you in the corridors as he held her hand. It had been almost a month of hearing him talking about how gracious she was and weeks of looking how they made out on the couch in the end of the library or against one of the gym’s walls.

You thought that if you put distance with him, you’ll manage to get over that soreness that felt heavy on your chest each time she made him laugh. But no matter how many extra classes you took or how many first years you tutored, your mind always came back to Inarizaki’s setter.

The sky was dark by the time you finished tutoring the last first year, he bowed at you and you gave him a brief smile before locking the classroom. You handled the keys to your teacher and walked out of the building.

The cold wind hit your face, making you shiver, you search for your jacket in your bag, finding only a scarf. Atsumu gave it to you. You haven’t used it in a while now, but the cold was too much to bear with for your thin uniform. You place the material carefully around your neck, caressing the fabric begore sighing, watching your breath fading into the air and start walking.

“Oi” his voice makes you turn instantly, and you catch him jogging to you, “It’s fucking cold out here!- Uh, you still have it?” he points at your neck with a cheeky grin.

Atsumu looks extremely handsome like this, a little pink on his nose and cheeks and the few lights highlight the hazel of his eyes. It makes you gulp before replying.

“Of course, I do. It was my first two-digit birthday!”, he laughs remembering the chaos you both made by that age, you smile a little before looking at him with concern, “What are you still doing here? Something happened?”

“No! I-I just wanted to walk home with you, like we used to” he looks at the ground and sighs, “I know you’re busy, but I missed ya” the words make your heart warm even when you can’t stop shivering, “You are freezing” he takes his volleyball jacket and place it over your shoulders

“No, I’m fine, really. You should-”

“Stubborn as always. What am I supposed to do with your freeze corpse?”, you huff, putting the jacket on as he starts walking.

“What about your girlfriend?”

“She already left, don’t worry she knows you’re my best friend, she won’t act bitchy at you” you just nod and start walking alongside the setter, not caring about the sting that ypu just felt in your heart.

The walk is long and awkward, Atsumu finally getting hit by the way your friendship had changed. Your brief answers and forced smiles make him more and more annoyed, becoming more silent with each minute.

You didn’t have the energy to keep up with his drollery, each time you looked at him you just felt the urge to be held by him and tell him the painful truth: You didn’t have a crush on him. No.  You loved him.

“What is wrong with you?” he says, suddenly stopping.

“Excuse me- “

“If you don’t want to be friends with me anymore, just say it! Jesus!”, his exasperated tone makes your eyes narrow, “-But don’t have me fooling around, worrying about you for almost a month” your mouth twitches downwards as you realize your indifference had hit a spot on his pride. 

For a solid minute you don’t hear anything, you just stare at him with a flood of thoughts rushing through your head until you manage to pull one of them out into a dry whisper.

“We shouldn’t be friends anymore- “his clenched fists loosen, and he watches your lips carefully, “I can’t do it anymore – thought I could but…is too much”,

The crack of your voice makes you stop for second, giving you time to gain a little bit more of air before feeling again as if you were drowning.

“I can’t be friends with you anymore, because I want you!… The worst part is that she is so FUCKING perfect!” your arms move in the air letting out all the feelings you had bottled up.

“I thought I could brush away the feeling, but I realize – I  love you, Atsumu” his mouth opens slightly not able to produce a sound as your arms fall to your sides, a tear streaming down your cheek.

You take his jacket off, the cold air embracing your body, but you can’t care less. He motions to you, but you lift your hand, stopping him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Would it have changed anything?” his silence tells you all you needed, making your heart clench, “That – That’s what I though…It’s okay, really. I wouldn’t choose me either” your breath becomes irregular and you bite your lip, capturing a sob, “This is my fault, falling in love with you…If being friends makes you happy, I-I will do my best to be your friend, then”

Atsumu was usually selfish with the things he wanted and proud about the things he made but seeing you there, shivering with red eyes and swollen lips, made his heart ache.

And he couldn’t be less proud about the things he was about to say.

“You were right before. We shouldn’t be friends anymore. I do not want to deal with you being in love with me and my girlfriend”, you hiccup, fixing your sore eyes on his, “You made things so fucking complicated, it’s better to end this now”, he hiss, gritting his teeth, waiting for you to storm out.

 But when he feels your cold lips on his cheek, he bites his bottom lip harshly.

“Sorry, I never meant-”, ‘To fall for you’, it takes all his will power to not envelope you in his arms, so he only turns his face away, hearing your sobs. He loved you but not the way you did. “-to mess us up”

You walk away quickly, tears running down your cheeks as you press your hand firmly against your lips, drowning the uncontrollable sobs. Atsumu stands there watching you disappear into the coldness of the night, shutting his eyes tightly, understanding, he had lost his best friend.

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[calzona-ga]

In her unauthorized book, Lynette Rice explores the stories behind some of the ABC drama's biggest moments, including — in this exclusive excerpt — the factors that led to McDreamy's shocking death.

In How to Save a Life: The Inside Story of Grey’s Anatomy, author Lynette Rice recounts the ABC medical drama’s eventful 16-year history, revealing new details behind some of the show’s biggest departures. Included in the unauthorized, 320-page oral history (St. Martin’s Press, Sept. 21, $29.99) is a chapter that offers new insight into leading man Patrick Dempsey’s shocking exit in season 11 of the Shonda Rhimes-created drama. In the chapter, Rice speaks with Dempsey’s co-stars and exec producers who were present during filming of his final days on Grey’s Anatomy, and reveals claims of “HR issues” that contributed to the death of his alter-ego, Derek “McDreamy” Shepherd.

“There were HR issues. It wasn’t sexual in any way. He sort of was terrorizing the set. Some cast members had all sorts of PTSD with him,” recalls exec producer James D. Parriott, who was brought back to the series to oversee Dempsey’s exit.

In more than 80 interviews with current and former cast- and crewmembers, Rice, an editor-at-large at Entertainment Weekly, also explores the show’s early days, recounts the thinking behind some of its more polarizing storylines and offers exclusive details about the show’s behind-the-scenes culture.

“After 17 seasons, fans still can’t get enough of Grey’s Anatomy,” Rice tells THR. But what went down behind the scenes was just as dramatic as what viewers saw every Thursday. I’m excited for fans to read what I learned about those early days, along with what it was like to work for Shonda Rhimes, and why the drama was so freakin’ headline-prone.”

Below, The Hollywood Reporter shares an excerpt — the full eighth chapter — from How to Save a Life, and tune in Friday to TV’s Top 5 for an interview with Rice about her book and the other big reveals she uncovered in her reporting for it.

(Reps for ABC, ABC Signature, Shondaland, and Dempsey declined comment on the reveals in Rice’s book.)

“He’s Very Dreamy, but He’s Not the Sun,” Or, How Grey’s Anatomy Loved — Then Learned to Live Without — Patrick Dempsey Ellen Pompeo may have played the titular role, but for many fans over many years, Patrick Dempsey was the real draw to Grey’s Anatomy. Some of it had to do with his celebrity: Dempsey was the most famous member of the original cast at the time of the pilot and brought with him quite a cult following from his 1987 movie Can’t Buy Me Love. But a lot of it was due to the way Rhimes wrote her McDreamy and how Dempsey depicted him. James D. Parriott I would say, “The guy would never say that,” and Shonda would say, “He’s McDreamy. He’s the perfect man. He would say that.” I’d say, “Okay. It’s your show.” Eric Buchman Shonda had a very clear idea of how important it was to keep Derek as this almost idealized love interest, not just for Meredith but for the audience. Naturally, the writers—especially writers who had been working on one-hour dramas for a while—were like, “Well, maybe have McDreamy make a big mistake in surgery and kill somebody. Or he develops an addiction of some kind. What is his deep, dark secret?” Shonda was very insistent: that’s not the character we do that with. Even when you find out he’s married, that was done in a very sympathetic way that kept him being a hero. He was wronged by his spouse and in spite of it all he was still gonna give his marriage a second chance. Stacy McKee Shonda was protective of McDreamy, but it was really with an eye toward being protective of Meredith. I don’t think the two were separate from one another. I don’t think she wanted to put something out there that maybe on the surface might seem a little frivolous. At its core, there was something really substantial that she wanted to say. She wanted to be very specific about the type of relationship values that she put out there. Tony Phelan I was in editing with Shonda once, and it was the scene where Meredith and Derek had broken up. He comes over and she’s like, “I can’t remember the last time we kissed.” And he says, “I remember. You were wearing this and you smelled of this …”

Joan Rater “Your shampoo smelled like flowers, you had that sweater on …” He described their last kiss. Tony Phelan Typically in editing you start on Derek, then you cut to Meredith for a reaction, and then you’ll go back to him. I noticed that we weren’t ever cutting back to Meredith. I asked why. Shonda said, “Because the woman in Iowa who’s watching this show wants to believe that Patrick is talking to her, and if you cut back to Meredith, it pushes them out of it.” In those special moments, we would just lock into Derek and let him do his thing. Joan Rater And he was a master at it. Patrick Dempsey He’s the ideal man, and that’s what Shonda constructed. There’s a projection [of him] onto me when you come in contact with fans, certainly with the younger and older fans. There is a certain amount of expectation. There is a responsibility to it. It made me grow, too. There were good qualities [of his] that you work on to obtain. Off camera, Dempsey was equally as charismatic to his fellow actors, crew members, and anyone who would come to visit the set. Lauren Stamile I was going in to meet him, and I remember I had this little cardigan sweater on and I took it off before I got into the room. Dempsey is one of those people—it’s almost like there’s a light shining around his body, and you feel like you’re the only person in the room. I got so hot and I remember saying, “Gosh, I would take off my sweater if I had one on because I’m so hot, but I took it off.” I was just babbling. He said, “You look nice,” and I said, “You look nicer.” I felt so awkward and he was so gracious and lovely. I was having a nervous breakdown. It’s like this “it” factor. I was like, God, whatever he has, I wish I had. I think it was very obvious how nervous I was, and he went out of his way to make sure he introduced me to everybody and made sure I felt comfortable, which he certainly didn’t have to do. But he did. Joan Rater He knew I had a giant crush on him, and he loved it. And when we’d go to table reads—I was an actress at one point in my life—they would always give me Meredith if Ellen wasn’t there. And I’d be getting my chicken tenders at craft services before the table read and he’d come up behind me and say, “Are you reading Meredith?” in my ear, like, so sexy. I’d be like, Oh my God. I mean, I could barely … I could not look at him. Tina Majorino I worked with Patrick a ton. I love him so much. We had a really great time working together. I think he’s such a great actor and he really made me laugh a lot. I feel like we had a good dynamic in scenes together, and it was always fun to play opposite him. Yes, he’s that charismatic in real life. Yes, his hair is that awesome. Yes, he is dreamy up close.

Chandra Wilson Patrick Dempsey will forever be known as Grey’s Anatomy’s McDreamy. Derek Shepherd is a permanent part of television history.

Norman Leavitt He is a big, personable guy.

Jeannine Renshaw We all love Patrick. Patrick is a sweetheart. If I saw him on the street, I’d give him a hug. I love the guy.

Mark Wilding I’ve always had a soft spot for Patrick. He really does try to do the right thing. Brooke Smith, who played Dr. Erica Hahn, remembers how Dempsey defended her when the decision was made to fire her from the show in 2008. Brooke Smith I remember calling him and saying, “Oh my God, they said they can’t write for me anymore, so I guess I’m leaving.” And he was like, “What are you talking about? You’re the only one they’re writing for.” Which at that time, it kind of did feel that way. But I guess someone didn’t like that. They gave me a statement [to release, about her departure] and I never said it. Patrick said that he actually took it out of his jacket on The Ellen DeGeneres Show and read the statement. He won’t let me forget it. He was like, “I defended you, see?” And it was true.

By season eleven, however, fans saw a disturbing break in MerDer’s once unbreakable bond. Six episodes had gone by without a peep from Derek, who was supposedly in Washington, D.C., where he had apparently made out with a research fellow. Fans began threatening to bolt if their hero didn’t return soon to Seattle. “I have never missed one episode,” wrote a fan on Dempsey’s Facebook page. “But I swear if [Rhimes] kills you off I’m done.” But there was a critical reason for Derek’s strange absence: behind the scenes, there was talk of Dempsey’s diva-like fits and tension between him and Pompeo. To help manage the explosive situation, executive producer James D. Parriott was brought back in to serve as a veritable Dempsey whisperer.

Patrick Dempsey [That] was the first year that I haven’t been in every episode. I [was] in every episode since the pilot— close to 250 episodes. That [was a] huge run. James D. Parriott Shonda needed an OG to come in as sort of a showrunner for fourteen episodes. There were HR issues. It wasn’t sexual in any way. He sort of was terrorizing the set. Some cast members had all sorts of PTSD with him. He had this hold on the set where he knew he could stop production and scare people. The network and studio came down and we had sessions with them. I think he was just done with the show. He didn’t like the inconvenience of coming in every day and working. He and Shonda were at each other’s throats.

Jeannine Renshaw There were times where Ellen was frustrated with Patrick and she would get angry that he wasn’t working as much. She was very big on having things be fair. She just didn’t like that Patrick would complain that “I’m here too late” or “I’ve been here too long” when she had twice as many scenes in the episode as he did. When I brought it up to Patrick, I would say, “Look around you. These people have been here since six thirty a.m.” He would go, “Oh, yeah.” He would get it. It’s just that actors tend to see things from their own perspective. He’s like a kid. He’s so high energy and would go, “What’s happening next?” He literally goes out of his skin, sitting and waiting. He wants to be out driving his race car or doing something fun. He’s the kid in class who wants to go to recess.

Patrick Dempsey It’s ten months, fifteen hours a day. You never know your schedule, so your kid asks you, “What are you doing on Monday?” And you go, “I don’t know,” because I don’t know my schedule. Doing that for eleven years is challenging. But you have to be grateful, because you’re well compensated, so you can’t really complain because you don’t really have a right. You don’t have control over your schedule. So, you have to just be flexible.

Longtime Crew Member Poor Patrick. I’m not defending his schtick. I like him, but he was the Lone Ranger. All of these actresses were getting all this power. All the rogue actresses would go running to Shonda and say, “Hey, Patrick’s doing this. Patrick’s late for work. He’s a nightmare.” He was just shut out in the cold. His behavior wasn’t the greatest, but he had nowhere to go. He was so miserable. He had no one to talk to. When Sandra left, I remember him telling me, “I should’ve left then, but I stayed on because they showed me all this money. They just were dumping money on me.”

Patrick Dempsey It [was] hard to say no to that kind of money. How do you say no to that? It’s remarkable to be a working actor, and then on top of that to be on a show that’s visible. And then on top of that to be on a phenomenal show that’s known around the world, and play a character who is beloved around the world. It’s very heady. It [was] a lot to process, and not wanting to let that go, because you never know whether you will work again and have success again.

Jeannine Renshaw A lot of the complaining … I think Shonda finally witnessed it herself, and that was the final straw. Shonda had to say to the network, “If he doesn’t go, I go.” Nobody wanted him to leave, because he was the show. Him and Ellen. Patrick is a sweetheart. It messes you up, this business.

James D. Parriott I vaguely recall something like that, but I can’t be sure. It would have happened right toward the end, because I know they were negotiating and negotiating, trying to figure out what to do. We had three different scenarios that we actually had to break because we didn’t know until I think about three days before he came back to set which one we were going to go with. We didn’t know if he was going to be able to negotiate his way out of it. We had a whole story line where we were going to keep him in Washington, D.C., so we could separate him from the rest of the show. He would not have to work with Ellen again. Then we had the one where he comes back, doesn’t die, and we figure out what Derek’s relationship with Meredith would be. Then there was the one we did. It was kind of crazy. We didn’t know if he was going to be able to negotiate his way out of it. It was ultimately decided that just bringing him back was going to be too hard on the other actors. The studio just said it was going to be more trouble than it was worth and decided to move on.

Stacy McKee I don’t think there was any way to exit him without him dying. He and Meredith were such an incredibly bonded couple at that point. It would be completely out of character if he left his kids. There was no exit that would honor that character other than if he were to die. Patrick Dempsey I don’t remember the date [I got the news]. It was not in the fall. Maybe February or March. It was just a natural progression. And the way everything was unfolding in a very organic way, it was like, “Okay! This is obviously the right time.” Things happened very quickly. We were like, “Oh, this is where it’s going to go.”

So that was that: McDreamy would die in episode twenty-one of season eleven, even though Dempsey was in year one of his recently signed two-year contract extension. Rhimes wrote a script that was befitting of her lead’s heroic persona: she began “How to Save a Life” by having Derek witness a car crash and helping the injured. Once it appeared everyone was out of harm’s way, Derek continues on his road trip but is suddenly broadsided by a truck.

Rob Hardy (Director) The paramedics leave. He’s there by himself. He’s having a moment. The nice music is playing, and all of a sudden, bang. It comes out of nowhere, which, you know, is how accidents happen. So as opposed to watching it as a viewer, we saw the accident happen through Derek’s perspective. Derek ends up at Dillard Medical Center, a hospital far from Grey Sloan and the talented doctors who work there. His eyes are open, but his brain is severely damaged. No one hears his plea for a CT scan; he can’t speak. To help keep the episode a secret, the scenes were shot in an abandoned hospital in Hawthorne, California, about twenty-two miles from the show’s home studio in Los Feliz.

Mimi Melgaard It was really hard on all of us because it was so secretive and we had so many different locations. We shot at this closed-down hospital that was absolutely creepy haunted. All the scenes there were so sad anyway, and in this yucky-feeling haunted hospital? It was really weird. His whole last episode was really tough. Patrick Dempsey It was like any other day. It was just another workday. There was still too much going on. You’re in the midst of it—you’re not really processing it. Rob Hardy Here’s a guy who’s immobile. Now you’re inside of his head. We were trying to make that feel scary from the perspective of a person who’s used to being in control, from a person who usually has the power of life and death in his own hands. But now he doesn’t have the ability to speak on his own behalf.

Samantha Sloyan When I went to audition, I didn’t recognize any of these doctors’ names. I assumed they were just dummy sides so people wouldn’t ruin the story line or anything like that. All we knew is that we were dealing with a man who’s been in a car accident. I had no idea that it was going to be Derek. I just figured I was going to be a guest doctor and that whoever this person was who was injured, was going to be just a character on the show. Once it became clear what we were working on, I was like, Oh, my gosh. I can’t believe this is the episode I’m on.

Mike McColl (Dr. Paul Castello) I signed an NDA before they would release the script to me. I was reading it in my house, and I was like, “Oh, my God.” I didn’t tell anyone, including my agents. I just said, “This is a really great booking. It’s a great role on Grey’s.” And they didn’t know anything until it aired.

Savannah Paige Rae (Winnie) The first scene I shot was actually the sentimental scene when I’m saying, “It’s a beautiful day to save lives, right?” I’m in the hospital room with Derek and talking to him. Even though I never watched the show, I recognized the value of the episode I was in and just really took it to heart. It was so special that I got to be a part of it.

Rob Hardy [Patrick] had a lot of emotions during the whole shoot, which evolved. I think when we first started, he was very calm and cool … the same Patrick that I remembered when I worked on the show a year or so before. With each passing day, he was a lot more emotional. A lot more was on his mind, and that would show itself in different ways. The finality of the episode and for his character was setting in. You’ve become a global icon on this show and then in five, four, three, two, a day … it’s over.

James D. Parriott Patrick was very cooperative and good.

Mike McColl When I met Patrick, he’s lying on a stretcher and we’re rushing him into the ER. I just introduced myself, shook his hand, and was like, “Man, I cannot tell you what an honor it is to be the guy to take you down.” He loved it. He could not have been nicer to me and was funny through the whole shoot. He was on the table in front of me there when I cut his chest open and all that stuff. He gave me a hug at the end. It was a real privilege to be a part of TV history in that way.

Samantha Sloyan I remember him being incredibly kind. They had his neck in a brace, and he’s strapped down to the board, so there wasn’t a ton of chatting. I remember him being really kind, but it was clearly intense for him.

Stacy McKee It was such a beautiful piece of storytelling. I knew this event was going to be a really sad, horrible event for Meredith, but I also knew it was going to be the beginning of such an incredible chapter for Meredith.

Dempsey completed his final hours of shooting on a rainy night. There was no goodbye party, no goodbye cake. Maybe that’s because some cast members were left out of the loop. James Pickens, Jr., told ABC News that the cast “didn’t know a whole lot. It was kind of on the fly. So whatever information we got, we pretty much got it kind of right before it happened.”

Caterina Scorsone (Dr. Amelia Shepherd) I didn’t get to say goodbye to Patrick when he left. I do think that helped, because I’ve been using the character of Derek in my internal landscape since Private Practice. Derek was the stability in Amelia’s life. He became a father figure after they watched robbers shoot their father. When he was suddenly gone from the show, we didn’t have that closure, so I got to play it out. She’s about to use drugs again before Owen confronts her in a way that she finally talks about her feelings about losing Derek. She doesn’t end up using.

James D. Parriott The day he left, that was my last day. There was a certain sadness to it, but I think he was relieved. I mean, I think it took a toll on him, too.

Rob Hardy I didn’t see other actors showing up and saying, “Hey, it’s the last day! Wanted to come and wish you well.” I didn’t get that. It was more the Patrick show. We were in the Patrick world, and then Ellen came, and there was definitely a lot of emotion that both of them had individually … not necessarily together. It was more so her being there on the day that he died. He had his own way of being with that, and the same thing with her. It was like two people who grew up together and … here we are. They had their own way of reflecting.

Patrick Dempsey I very quietly left. It was beautiful. It was raining, which was really touching. I got in my Panamera, got in rush-hour traffic, and two hours later I was home. Big news like this doesn’t stay quiet for long. Both Michael Ausiello—who left EW in 2010 to launch the news site TVLine—and Lesley Goldberg of The Hollywood Reporter learned two weeks prior to Dempsey’s final episode that he would be leaving the show. No reporter worth their salt wants to sit on a scoop—least of all one as huge as this—but Ausiello and Goldberg didn’t want to spoil the outcome for fans, so they agreed to hold the story until after the episode aired. I eventually found out, too, but in the nuttiest way imaginable: I was standing on the set of CSI: Cyber, watching Patricia Arquette talk about some droll techno-criminal. Unfortunately, the publicist also cc’d Dempsey’s manager and ABC publicist while trying to give me a major story, so I couldn’t immediately report the scoop. But I did use the information to successfully negotiate the one and only exit interview with Dempsey. Two weeks before his final episode, I met him and his publicist at Feed Body & Soul in Venice, California, for a story that would hit newsstands on April 24. He seemed a little shell-shocked and at one point choked up, but at the time he said nothing about how his on-set behavior may have contributed to his ouster. My editor, Henry Goldblatt, wanted to put him on the cover of Entertainment Weekly, but he couldn’t guarantee to ABC that no one would see it before the episode aired. Good thing we didn’t: some subscribers got the issue on the morning of Dempsey’s final episode— and one actually tweeted the story. Our PR department tried to get the tweets removed, but the cat was out of the bag: some fans found out early that McDreamy was about to be McHistory. Outlets like Variety reported how the story got out early, while our PR department released this statement: “We are surprised that an EW subscriber may have received their issue a day earlier than planned. We always try our best to bring readers exclusive news first. We would like to apologize to fans of the show that learned the news ahead of time.” Dempsey’s final episode was watched by 8.83 million viewers—the show’s largest audience since the premiere that season. Variety even pontificated whether the ratings boost was due to my exclusive with Dempsey.

Lesley Goldberg (The Hollywood Reporter) I’m used to working with networks to hold news as part of their efforts to guard against plot spoilers. But the way Patrick Dempsey’s exit was handled involved a layer of paranoia and secrecy that has been unlike anything I’ve seen in my reporting career. News that he was leaving, and his character being killed off, would have been a major story considering how big the show is domestically and internationally. However, it also would have meant spoiling the episode and, more important, damaging key relationships I’ve worked hard to build. At some point, publishing the news of Dempsey’s exit before the episode aired became an ethical question of what was more important—a big story and its subsequent traffic, which would have come no matter what, or the relationships and trust that it took years to craft. Ultimately, I still published early because EW subscribers received the issue with Lynette’s Dempsey interview before the episode aired.

Mike McColl The morning after Derek’s last episode aired, my daughter sent me a link that was on YouTube or Facebook or something. I actually pulled it up to look at it, and it was a Grey’s Anatomy showbiz cheat sheet. It asked the question “Who is the attending doctor who killed Derek ‘McDreamy’ Shepherd?” It included a photo that I posted from the set. I had on a bloody rubber glove and was in my scrubs and mask. I never obviously would have posted this before it aired. I posted it well after the episode aired, and I [captioned it] “McDeadly.” This writer said something like, “Kill McDeadly.” Maybe that’s why the producer didn’t choose a big-name actor to be the one who killed our beloved McDreamy! I want to be ultrasensitive to these hard-core fans because it means so much to them, and I certainly didn’t mean in that case to make light of it. It’s just, I’m an actor, and I recognize it for what it is. Is everybody clear on the fact that this is just pretend and Patrick knew he was going to be leaving the show? It was just like, “God. He’s okay. He really is okay.”

Peter Horton Derek was going to be there forever with Meredith because you went through a whole journey with them. That was incredibly fulfilling. So even if he’s not there, he’s there. I don’t think any of us really worried about that going away because by then you were so invested in it. The show can last as it has for years.

Patrick Dempsey Lots of people [miss him]. “It’s good to see you alive” is the comment I get. I’m like, “Yes, I’m very much alive in reruns.” People were really invested in that relationship. I knew it would be heavy. Very happy to have moved on with a different chapter in my life.

Samantha Sloyan The montage just killed me, when Meredith says, “It’s okay, you can go.” God, I’m getting choked up just thinking about it. The chemistry they have as a pair and the way they were able to build that and sustain it! So many of these relationships are, like, “Will they, won’t they,” and then it wears thin. They sustained it for the duration of their relationship on the show, and it’s just, I think, a testament to what those two created. It was just unbelievable.

Pompeo addressed Dempsey’s departure with a tweet that focused solely on his character, not on how she spent eleven years working side by side with him: “There are so many people out there who have suffered tremendous loss and tragedy. Husbands and wives of soldiers, victims of senseless violence, and parents who have lost children. People who get up every day and do what feels like is the impossible. So it is for these people and in the spirit of resilance [sic] I am honored and excited to tell the story of how Meredith goes on in the face of what feels like the impossible.” Meanwhile, fans futilely created a Change.org petition to reinstate McDempsey, while other, more desperate ones simply tweeted “We Hate You” to Rhimes.

Shonda Rhimes Derek Shepherd is and will always be an incredibly important character—for Meredith, for me, and for the fans. I absolutely never imagined saying goodbye to our McDreamy. Patrick Dempsey’s performance shaped Derek in a way that I know we both hope became a meaningful example— happy, sad, romantic, painful, and always true—of what young women should demand from modern love. His loss will be felt by all.

Talk about the mother (father?) of all postscripts: In November of 2020 Dempsey reprised his role as McDreamy in the season opener—but only in Meredith’s dreams. Stricken with COVID-19, an unconscious Meredith “imagined” reuniting with her husband on the beach. After talking exclusively to Deadline and saying how it was “really a very healing process, and really rewarding,” Dempsey would return for more beach-based episodes that would ultimately stand out as the best moments of season seventeen. “It was a second chance thing,” one ABC executive told me at the time. “Shonda likes a comeback. Also, they wanted him in their last season.”

[quietmyfearswith]

would've been you ; steve rogers x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count — 4,477 words

summary — in which steve rogers pretends to be in a relationship in order to get his ex to stop pestering about his life.

warnings —swear words, fluff?? mentions of blood and bruising, angst?? insecurities, implied smut

pairing — steve rogers x fem!reader

a/n — italics are the flashbacks,,, and would you believe it's been a fat minute since i've written about steve rogers??? so i hope i bring his character justice lmao,, also this is my take on the fake dating au so i would really appreciate some feedback and asks/messages are open! if you follow me, please state your age/age range in your bio. i will block you if you follow me and don’t have your age/age range in your bio!!!

tagging —​ @la-cey​ @pedropcl​ @isysen​ @slutforcevans @iloveshawnieboi

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

“There you are, doll!” Steve cheerily yelled, pausing his current conversation with Sharon. Walking over to Y/N, he kissed her cheek and took advantage of the fact that his back was facing Sharon and whispered in her ear, “Play along with it, please.”

Sensing the desperation in his tone, she nodded in her head and plastered a smile on her face, “Where have you been, doll?” The way he called her doll had her biting the inside of her cheek as she had to remind herself that this was all just a ruse and so she went along, “I’m sorry ‘bout that, honey,” She raised the folders that contained important mission intel, “Had to run these over by Fury first.”

Draping an arm over Y/N’s shoulder, he then turned to Sharon and smiled at her, “Oh Sharon, I don’t think I’ve told you yet but me and Y/N have been dating for quite a while now.” The girl being addressed to tilted her head a bit  — she was silently analyzing the pair’s compatibility and after a few silent seconds she somewhat came to the conclusion that they were somewhat a good couple — before smiling, “Well good for you both! Thought that our breakup was too harsh on you, Steve.”

Y/N had to hold back a chuckle at Sharon’s seemingly innocent remark; but Steve could only scoff, “Well it was harsh, until I was with my beautiful doll.” She felt his lips place a gentle kiss on the top of her head and she didn’t know the reason behind her snuggling herself to Steve’s side — was it because she was playing along? Or was it due to the warmth his body was radiating made her relax and seek more of that comfort.

“Since you have a girl,” It creeped Y/N out when Sharon wiggled her eyebrows as she said the word girl, “You wouldn’t mind going to my Valentine’s party then?” The Avenger took the invite she held out. “A Valentine’s party? Wouldn’t that be a bit condescending?”

Chuckling at her question, Sharon just waved them off, “Oh no! I don’t think it will be. Plus, me and Mark just love celebrating every holiday or festival!” She checked her phone and realized she had somewhere else to be, she waved off as she bid adieu, “I’ll see you both okay? Bye!”

“Be sure to invite us for your St. Patrick's Day party, okay?” Y/N sarcastically reminded her as Steve genuinely laughed out loud. Once Sharon was out of their sight, he grabbed her hand and led her into his office so they could discuss privately.

“What the fuck was that, Steve?” Y/N yelled at him once they both were inside his soundproof office. “I’m sorry! I had to do so,” Steve explained, his blue eyes evidently expressed stress, “Sharon suddenly had me cornered and was asking about how I was after we broke up.”

“So you decided to tell her that we were dating?!”

“No!” His answer had her confused as she tilted her head back to stare at him in disbelief, “Well, not necessarily that we were dating.”

“I feel like I’m owed more than that; so explain yourself clearly, Rogers.” Y/N crossed her arms and looked at him dead serious in the eye; sighing to calm himself down, Steve then closed his eyes before slowly opening them as he explained to her, “She asked me how I was doing post-breakup and I said I was doing well. Her nosey self wasn’t satisfied with that answer and inquired further if I was dating anyone.”

“Then you told her you were seeing me?” Y/N predicted and was surprised when Steve shook his head, “I vaguely told her that I was dating someone already.”

“But she kept on pestering you for a name and face?” She giggled as Steve rolled his eyes but nodded to answer her question, “You were the first dame to pass by and thought that maybe she’d piss off once she saw that I indeed have someone.”

Snatching the invite that he held, she read through the details of the party they were invited to as she chuckled, “Then it looks like we have a party to attend to on the 14th, hm?”

“What?” Now it was the super soldier’s turn to be stunned; he thought that it was only a one time thing where they had to pose in front of Sharon as a couple. “We’re going to the Valentine’s party?”

Pursing her lips together as she looked at him as if he lacked common sense, Y/N answered, “Well, duh. Wouldn’t it be odd if you attended the party alone when she clearly invited us both?”

He understood her point, but what he failed to recognize is why she was willing to pose as his partner when they weren’t together, in any way. “You’re on board with this whole fake dating thing?”

“Okay for one, don’t flatter yourself,” She defended as she caught herself thinking that maybe he thought that this was her way of living some fantasy where they were a real couple, “Two, you said it yourself — Sharon’s not gonna stop bothering you. Why not just ride along with whatever she’s playing, yeah?”

Her reasons made sense to Steve and he jabbed at her too, “Plus, you did seem interested with what her Valentine’s party looked like.” As he mentioned the ridiculously themed party she burst out in a fit of giggles as she raised the invitation to their eye level and said, “Well it does state that we both have to wear either red or pink.”

“I knew you were dumb, but I didn’t know you were this dumb,” Bucky stated as he placed the weights Steve lifted against the parallel bar dips of the gym bench. Lifting himself off the inclined seat, the blonde Captain glared at his best friend, “You and I both know I’m not dumb! Who was it that pieced together quickly that he wasn’t in the 40’s the moment he woke up?”

Rolling his eyes, the brunette flicked Steve’s ear as he drank some of his energy drink, “Well you’re dumb enough to engage in a fake relationship with the woman you’ve been in love with for a few years now.”

The captain was quick to swat his friend’s thigh to silence him; his blonde locks moved left and right as he looked sideways — making sure no one heard his deepest secret exposed supposed best friend. “Keep it down, will you?”

The former Winter Soldier could only chuckle as he watched Steve prepare his things as they both had reached the end of their workout, “But still, are you sure this plan won’t backfire and blow up all over your face?”

Truthfully, Steve hadn’t considered that yet, “Honestly? I don’t know.” After a few silent seconds, Bucky knew the look that his friend was sporting so he fished for more answers, “But?”

“But I’m hoping something good will come out after this whole ordeal,” Steve quietly admitted with a sigh as he rested his back against the cold, metal walls of the elevator. Bucky took the time to study his friend’s facial features; it was amazing how at the mere thought of being with Y/N instantly relaxed him. “I hope the same for you, pal.”

Midway through the elevator’s journey to their floor, it rang softly as it halted, and the doors opened to reveal Y/N, “Hey you two!” When she entered the small box, Steve stood up straight as he smiled at her, “Hi doll, how are you?”

With the metallic palm pressing against his lips, Bucky stifled his amused laughter with how dumbfounded his friend was; he could see the miniscule beads of sweat and nervousness appear behind Steve’s facade as he faced the girl of his dreams and he couldn’t wait to tell this tale to Sam. Unaware of what was previously going on, the only girl in the space smiled warmly, “Drop the act Steve, Sharon’s not here,” She turned to Bucky and greeted him too, “How was the workout, Sarge?”

“It was great! Also got to help out some of the other recruits who were struggling,” Steve’s mind was foggy as the two conversed as he silently reflected on what she said to him. Drop the act? Did she think that him being nice to her was just part of their stunt? She must not have any idea of how much she really means to me then, he concluded.

Upon hearing her say, “Well I did know you were a better combat fighter than Steve,” To his best friend snapped him out of his deep thought. “Excuse me? Did you say I wasn’t better than Buck?”

“Uh oh,” Bucky warningly mocked as Y/N laughed at Steve’s pout; she brushed his cheek with her palm to comfort him, “Don’t worry honey, I still know that you’re skilled enough to sweep me off my feet.”

The elevator chimed softly, serving as a cue for Y/N that she was already on the floor where she needed to be. Before stepping off the box, she winked at Steve, “Bye boyfriend, see you later.” Steve was grateful for the elevator’s timing as he watched her exit for his cheeks got all red as he replayed the earlier events in his mind.

The brunette, of course, noticed the dreamy state his friend was in and didn’t hesitate to poke fun at him, “Two sentences and she got you all flustered and blushing? Man, can’t wait to tell this to Sam.” Bucky huffed out as Steve hit his chest with the back of his palm before exiting the elevator once they were on the floor of their living quarters, “Shut the hell up, jerk.”

“Yeah? Well you’re one coward punk!”

“What’s the emergency?” Steve wondered as he entered Y/N’s office after receiving a text from her that demanded his presence immediately; though it was a vague text which read;

My office, ASAP. We have an emergency.

He quickly concluded his meeting, worried at the thought  that something might have happened to her. However, as she walked from her couch and greeted him, “We haven’t talked about what we’re going to wear for the party!”

“Seriously?” Steve deadpanned as he chuckled lightly, Y/N mocked his amusement as she nodded, “I am!” She held the invitation between her fingers, “The invite said we have to wear either red or pink. But couples were encouraged to wear something that matched.”

After his amusement died down, he then placed the weight of his chin on his palm, “And what are you proposing we wear to the party?” With that she gleefully skipped to the coffee table, where she carried the hangers and showed to him the outfits she bought — she bought him a pink, strawberry-themed long sleeve; while she bought herself a dress of the same design and color.

“This one?” He held the cloth of the top he was supposed to wear, “We’re wearing this to the party?” Sheepishly, she nodded as she swayed a little bit, “Okay, they were a bit self-indulgent,” Steve snorted and she glared at him as she continued, “But hey! This fits the dress code; it’s pink and we’ll be matching too!”

Scratching the back of his neck, he thought about it and was extremely on the fence on whether he should wear it; apparently he took too long to respond as Y/N huffed out as she sat on the couch with a pout as she crossed her arms, “And here I was willing to help you in your dilemma and yet you can’t do this small thing for me.

Sitting beside her, he poked her sides and to no avail, “Hey, come on now. Don’t be like that,” He wrapped his arms around her figure and he felt her still in his arms but ultimately relaxed as she leaned back to his chest and looked at him with a pout, “What?”

“I always wanted to wear this dress,” She confessed as she played with his fingers that were tapping on the skin of her stomach, “And you know, the party seemed like the perfect occasion to do so.” She peered up at Steve, his chin almost resting on the top of her head, “Don’t worry, I can change what we’re gonna wear. Would matching sweaters work for you?”

With a serious expression, he shook his head, “We’re not going to the party wearing sweaters.” She gasped out but it was short-lived as he smiled and kissed her forehead, “We’re gonna be wearing these pretty heart outfits.”

Her whole face lit up and she smiled brightly as she enclosed his neck with his arms, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” It surprised them both when she planted a soft kiss on his clean-shaven cheek, “I’m really thankful that you want to dress up in those hideous outfits.”

Stroking her back, he shook his head, “They’re not hideous; I know for a fact that you will look even more lovely once you wear that dress,” Images of what she would look like as she wore the dress filled his mind, and she looked jaw-dropping.

After relishing in the contented silence they shared before Steve tapped her forearms, “Okay, doll. Need to go now,” He thought of how he needed to call back some of the officials he dismissed at the meeting he was earlier in, “I’ll pick you up at 6pm tomorrow, okay?”

Nodding her head, she too stood up and handed the garment to him, “Don’t forget this.” Snatching the fabric from her, he winked at her before leaving her to her company, “See you then, doll.” And that mention of the nickname, she felt himself melting like ice cream.

“So this is what a Valentine’s-themed look like,” Steve noted as he took a sip of the red, sugary drink being offered at one of the tables as Y/N snickered after taking a bite of the chocolate-strawberry, “Still a bit condescending, and damn is it too pink and red!”

Around them, there were a litter of red, pink, and gold balloons taped to the wall; while there  were pink streamers attached to the back of the chairs and heart-shaped stickers littered the room — as if to mock those who weren’t in any way experiencing an overwhelming amount of love. Steve laughed at her comment and was about to sip more of his drink when he noticed that Sharon was approaching them; he draped an arm around Y/N’s lower back, pulling her in closer to him until their bodies touched, as he continued to drink his beverage.

“Hey guys, how are you enjoying the party?” When she stood tall and proud in front them, it nearly blinded the two as she was donning a sparkly, sequined pink dress that screamed “Valentine disco ball.”

“We’re enjoying it,” Y/N managed to get out without squinting her eyes too much and with a convincing fake smile, “I do have to say you have great tastes in sweets,” She raised the half-eaten strawberry she was munching on. The blonde girl laughed as she nodded her head, “Well Mark has a sweet tooth so of course I have to indulge him.”

Steve was about to remark about how Mark was on their brief exchange upon their arrival but was quickly cut off by his ex’s questioning, “So tell me, how did you two become an official couple?” The fake couple looked at each other as they stammered out a coherent response as they stared at each other, getting lost in each other’s beautiful eyes.

“I mean, I knew about how Steve had this miniscule crush on you,” Sharon stating that casually made them snap out of their haze and focus on the blonde, “He might have confessed that early on in our relationship.”

“I’m sorry?” Y/N wasn’t sure why that was what she said but Sharon quickly waved it off, “It’s fine, really. I too had a crush on someone when we were together — who can resist Keanu Reeves, am I right?”

The two girls chuckled — Y/N genuinely laughed this time as she too draped her arm around Steve’s lower back, somewhat to ground herself — and once they both calmed down, Sharon returned to her questioning, “So really, what’s your story?”

“Well it started after a rough mission, after our breakup,” Steve recalled which caught the attention of both women. Anticipating his recollection, they watched him with eager eyes and silent mouths, encouraging the Avenger to carry on, “I was punching some bags in the gym until I was bleeding. Then Y/N showed up and from there we were inseparable,” He paused for a while before looking on his the mentioned girl and smiling softly at her, “You might not remember it, doll.”

“I do, actually,” She retorted softly, before turning to Sharon as she recounted what happened from her point of view;

“Don’t think punching that bag will change the mission’s outcome,” Y/N’s voice echoed through the empty room of the gym; it also caused Steve to halt his assault on the object and smirking to her, “It won’t, but it might change how I currently feel.”

Walking over to him, she sat on the nearest bench from where he was standing as she stated out loud her observation, “Come over here and let me treat your bleeding.” He gave her a firm look which was his tell that he was about to pull the “I’m a super soldier” card; but he hasn’t even got out a syllable out before she shut him up, “Super soldier or not, you can die of loss of blood, you know?”

Sighing and rolling his eyes, he walked over while removing the punching gloves before moving to sit beside her. Her fingers peeled off the tape he covered his knuckles in that were now sticky with both sweat and blood, “Jesus, Steve, how dumb can you be?”

“Is that a challenge?” He snickered but it quickly died down to a hiss as she applied a liquid ointment on his knuckles before dabbing it with cotton, “Sorry,” She apologized with a meek smile, “But no, I have mission reports dating back to the 40’s to prove how impulsive you can be.”

They sat there in silence for a few minutes as she was treating his hands before Y/N spoke up, “Do you need someone to listen to and comfort you? Or someone who can give you solutions?” Steve lifted his gaze from his bruised knuckles to her gentle eyes, “What?”

She smiled softly at him before resuming in bandaging his knuckles, “I know for a fact that the mission isn’t the only thing that got you all worked up.” She didn’t have to say it, but it was evident that she knew about his and Sharon’s break up.

“So you’ve heard about it then?” His inference had her smirking at him as she placed her hands on her thighs after finishing up on his hands, looking at him incredulously, “The proper question is who hasn’t? I bet only Scott and Hope don't because they’re on that mission in New Zealand.”

A chuckle erupted from his chest with the manner she was being honest with him, “I guess I just like having someone not looking sorry for me or offering sympathy with the whole ordeal,” Every time someone mentioned the breakup they were all sympathetic to him and it was refreshing to be with someone who somehow found humor in his rather sad situation, “So I like how you feel nor display neither.”

He didn’t have to say it as well, but she got the faint hint that he needed a good laugh just to forget about everything and she was more than glad to do so, “Since we’re being honest, why don’t you go for a quick shower? You’re starting to smell from the 40’s already.”

Her remark had him gasping as he placed a hand on his chest, slightly offended but was still in a playful mood, “Oh? And what do I get once I smell like more of this century?”

She stood up and smirked at him as she was strutting away to leave him shower, “Gonna show you a good time, cap. Just text me once you’re done, yeah?”

“You naughty minx! You too did it right away?” Sharon excitedly concluded, invested with the blossoming relationship of her ex-boyfriend — Y/N thought it was unusual how a person would genuinely be interested in their former partner’s well-being, but this was better than her treating her with spite.

Steve laughed loudly as he shook his head, “Sharon! No! We didn’t do what you’re thinking.” His statement had her confused as she pouted and whined for answers, “Well she said she would show you a good time? What else am I supposed to think?”

“I drove him out to this amusement park and on the way home took him to this karaoke dive bar thing,” Y/N clarified and nuzzled the side of her face to Steve’s arm upon remembering how hard and loud Steve laughed throughout the day.

Upon the mention of the bar they went to, Steve placed his now empty glass on one of the tables as he fished his wallet out and got one of the many photo strips they took on the bar’s photo booth, “I even made sure to keep these, as a reminder of our first unofficial date.”

Sharon cooed as she looked at their adorable poses; but Steve and Y/N were both staring into each other with longing and love in their eyes, and yet neither of them could bring themselves into saying it to each other.

“Oh shit, Mark’s calling me,” Sharon said as she hastily said goodbye to them as she was approaching her boyfriend, “Enjoy yourselves okay?” They both nodded to her and told her to go to beau as they would be fine by themselves.

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please,” Steve chuckled at her immediate response; tucking the strip containing their pictures in his pocket, he grabbed her hand, holding onto it tightly as he sneakily led to exit the party.

For a while, they were just walking down the street with their tangled hands swaying as they both silently took in earlier events. “So, you kept all those strips of photos we took?” Seeing as he nodded bashfully, she scoffed, “We must have inserted over a dozen quarters that night! Do you know how many photo strips that could be?”

Truthfully, she didn’t want to look at those photos — let alone have a copy — since it served as a painful relic of a night filled with fun and spontaneity. And she feared that it was all a dream and that it wouldn’t be once again replicated.

“And I kept every single one of them,” Unlike his bashful demeanor earlier, his tone was now firm and confident. They both paused their walking as they were by the park, that was thankfully not crowded at this time of the day.

“Why?” Y/N hated how she sounded so weak, which was far from how confident her tone was whenever she held meetings for SHIELD or the Avengers. Steve smiled at her with the fondness that he never thought he had, “Because if I were to choose my soulmate, it would’ve been you.”

In a state of disbelief, Y/N rapidly shook her head while she shakily protested, “But you were with Sharon,” She was struggling to unclasp her hand with Steve’s; but he wasn;t letting her do so as he held onto hers firmly, “You wanted her, possibly loved her. There’s no way you could want me.”

He understood her point, but he had his own and wanted to make it clear; he grabbed both her hands firmly and placed a kiss on her knuckles before speaking, “If there’s one thing I learned from this generation, is that sometimes we date and put ourselves out there to learn more about one’s self.”

She was unsure with where he was going, so she decided to let him talk, “And in my short stint of being with Sharon, I came to the conclusion that I’ll always want you.” His hand let go of hers as he brushed his hand from her temple to the crown of her head, “I know that you will always have the most beautiful hair that I have ever seen.”

The hand traveled to the front of her face, brushing gently the side of her eyelids, “One with the most expressive and wonderful eyes,” His thumb and pointer finger then playfully and gently squeezed the bridge of her nose, “The cutest nose.”

With a deep breath, he planted his hand  at the nape of her neck, pulling her into a soft, passionate kiss. His lips formed a smile when he felt that she relaxed into the kiss enough that she too reciprocated the vigour he had. Steve could feel the hairs on his back raise as he felt her warm hands on them; she suddenly felt the need to feel more of him as their lips and tongues passionately danced together.

“If this is your definition of a joke, I will have you removed from being an Avenger,” He thought of it as an empty threat but she was dead serious; he chuckled from where their lips were touching as they rested from kissing.

His hands were on her chin, getting her to look up at him, “This isn’t a joke, doll, I promise. This is me, putting myself out there for the woman I have grown to love and admire. Hoping that she will allow me to be her boyfriend.”

She loved seeing the boyish, hopeful smile he sported; she laid a quick peck on his lips before answering, “I’d love for you to be my boyfriend, Steve.”

In the spur of the moment happiness, Steve yelled out loud as he twirled Y/N around and dipped her, as if they were dancing. “Steve! Put me back up!” She squealed when he kissed her as he put her back to stand back up on her feet. “Sorry doll, ‘m just extremely happy.”

Bopping his nose, she teased him, “Just said yes to us being a couple, I don’t recall telling you I love you yet,” She then mockingly wondered out loud, “What more would your reaction be if I do say those three little words, hm?”

Sensing that she was challenging him, he smirked as he draped his arm around her shoulder, resuming their walk back to the compound as Steve said, “Well I too know how to show you a good time; and I bet after that you’re gonna be telling me how much you love me.”

[txemrn]

For the simping softness prompt...

Sam & Brynn - " hey, everything's gonna be fine. stay where you are, i'm on my way. "

Hey, Nestle! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this, and I hope you enjoy a fluffier Sam Dalton (for a change)! 🥰❤

***

Unveiled

Book: TNA

Warning: language; fluffy

A/N: Huge thank you to sweet @kat-tia801 for pre-reading this and helping me in my headspace with that darn moodboard! 🤣

***

Sipping hypnotically on her early morning espresso, a well-dressed Brynn stoically sits at the marble breakfast bar. Her normally careless, wavy almond tresses are neatly styled and pinned into a low, tasteful bun, exposing the pure white brilliance of her vintage Tiffany pearl earrings, courtesy of her future in-laws for accepting their son’s proposal to join the family. Her make-up is fixed modestly, her lips adorning her perfect shade of mauve, complimenting the ripples of blue and gray in her sparkling eyes. Her pressed midi eyelet dress is designed for women of status, easily paired with her nude, red-bottom heels.

And Brynn has never felt more uncomfortable.

Even though Sam asked for Brynn’s hand in marriage shortly after the new year, the couple agreed to announce their engagement intimately last month to their families. They knew the news would not come as a huge shock, but Sam had cautioned his young fiancée that wedding and party planning is a long-standing tradition amongst the Dalton family women, and it would begin the moment they knew a date had been set. Though she heard his warning, Brynn was not prepared for the onslaught of opinions, decisions being made without her approval, and more importantly, the disregard to her budget.

“Babe, we just spent $12,000. On a fucking cake--” nervously cried Brynn on Monday evening. Sam took the early morning off for wedding cake tasting, but left his bride-to-be with Vivian, his mother, and two of his cousins, Brigitte and Katarina, to talk design as he returned to the office

“Sweetie,” Sam kissed her gingerly, “don’t worry about the price.” He lovingly pressed his lips again to her mouth, this time embracing her comfortingly. “I got it--” Brynn forced a smile, nodding her head dutifully, but the price tag burdened her.

This is not me.

Today, Sam’s cousin Daphne, an apprentice for the designers at Alexander McQueen, has scheduled a fitting with a private collection from a recent trunk show of wedding dresses. Brynn already has her heart set on a dress she saw with Jenny and her mom back in Philly, but as to not rock the boat, Brynn agreed to look at dresses with the Daltons this morning.

A smooth, deep voice startles her from her thoughts as Sam wraps his arms around Brynn’s waist. “I almost didn’t recognize you.”

That makes two of us.

Brynn bats her eyelashes. “Do I look like a Dalton?”

“Even better,” he peppers her neck with kisses, “you look similar to the gorgeous woman that agreed to marry me.” A natural smile takes over Brynn as she spins around in her stool to face Sam. She delicately slides her hands around his neck, pulling him into a more intentional, hungrier kiss. Sam pulls away first, tracing the back of his fingers across her soft cheeks. “Ready for another day with the fam?”

“Ready or not,” Brynn sardonically chuckles.

Sam kisses the tip of her nose. “Now, aren’t you missing something?” Brynn furrows her eyebrows, giving Sam a curious look until he pulls his other hand into view. On his pinky finger resting on his first knuckle is the 2.4 carat Graff emerald-cut engagement ring he had given her. “Do I need to superglue this on or what?”

Brynn nervously giggles. “I’m sorry, babe, I just--”she titters, “--you know, I’m just not used to this--”

And the five-digit price tag…

Sam raises an eyebrow, offering his hand with his palm facing up. Brynn’s eyes meet his dreamy, chocolate gaze as her hand easily melts into his. With his eyes not leaving her stormy blues, he glides the diamond on her finger. The perfect fit. He kisses her knuckles before kissing her lips again.

“You better get going, babe.” Resting his hands on Brynn’s hips, Sam helps her off the high-top chair. “Hey,” he leans over, suckling briefly on the crook of her neck and shoulder before brushing his lips against the shell of her ear. “This is all about us. Just you and me.” He offers a crooked smile, squeezing tightly to her hand. “Remember to have fun.”

Brynn nods, her anxiety beginning to melt away.

That’s right. You and me.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, beautiful.”

***

Flipping through notecards for his marketing presentation for the Cromwell account, Sam shakes his watch down his arm. 9:52 AM. He smirks, knowing that Brynn, his mom, and cousins are well into their wedding dress appointment. He hasn’t heard from his fiancée since this morning, so he remains encouraged that no news is good news.

Sam hurries into the glass-enclosed boardroom, casually nodding to several familiar faces as he unbuttons his sport coat. As his meeting comes to order, his phone begins to ring in his pocket. He chuckles in embarrassment as everyone begins to whisper with the interruption. “My apologies, folks,” he charms with a smile. Looking at his phone, Brynn’s picture pops up, but he sends the call to voicemail. As he begins to send her a text message, she calls back immediately. He silences the chiming of his phone, staring at Brynn’s ID photo. “Uh--” his voice carries over the room as he decides whether or not to take the call.

Brynn has never been one to interrupt Sam at work. If she wants to be cute, she usually sends a message in his lunch or she emails him, ensuring not to interrupt his busy schedule. The fact that she was calling, even after her call being rejected concerns Sam. “Excuse me. I need to take this,” he informs his audience, “please go ahead and help yourself to some coffee.”

Sam exits to the hallway, answering the phone. “Hey, babe--”

“Hey.” Brynn’s voice is soft like a gentle breeze, settling into a stale silence.

“Brynn?” Sam’s voice has a hint of concern as he crosses an arm over his chest to cradle his elbow. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I just--” her voice begins to crack, audibly swallowing sobs.

“Brynn baby,” Sam furrows his eyebrows, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine. I just really--” she sighs heavily, “just needed to hear your voice. I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to bother you--”

“You know full well that you are never a bother,” Sam hushes into a commanding whisper. “Is my mom being nice?”

“Oh God, yes. Everyone is lovely. It’s just--” Brynn stumbles into her own tears, crying over the phone as Sam patiently listens.

“It’s just what, baby--?”

“I can’t do this,” she abruptly answers. “I can’t keep pretending I’m something I’m not--”

“What do you mean--?”

“I have only tried on two dresses--couture dresses--Sam, that start at fifteen grand--” Sam purses his lips together, pinching the area between his eyes, listening to Brynn start to panic. “--and now I’m standing in a Sarah Burton gown rejected by Kate Middleton. Kate Middleton, Sam! And-and-and I’m wearing a diamond that costs more than my first car, and Sam, I just--I just--”

“Whoa, whoa, listen to me, baby,” Sam reassures her lovingly, “slow down. Breathe--just breathe. If you don’t want this, just say the word--”

“But your family--” Brynn tries to stifle her sobs, “God, I just--Sam, I can’t do this. I want you, and-and I love you. So fucking much,” she shakily exhales, “but this life? Are you sure? I mean--look at me--”

Sam lets out an exasperated exhale as Brynn continues to cry. He looks back into the glass conference room, seeing his presentation on the screen. He looks at his watch again before turning his attention back to the attendees to his meeting, already rolling their eyes in boredom.

Suddenly, a smile grows across his face. “Brynn baby?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, “I’m here.’

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m hiding in the dressing room. I told the attendant I needed a minute.”

“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine. Stay where you are. I’m on my way--”

“But, Sam--”

“No ‘buts’, my beautiful bride,” he smiles cheekily, “I’ll be right there.”

***

Forty minutes later, Brynn changes back into her white, summery dress, slowly donning her heels. As she touches up her make-up for lunch with her future mother-in-law, she suddenly hears a man’s voice interrupt the hushed whispers of the Dalton women. Brynn carefully peaks out the lavish chenille curtain.

Sam.

Brynn quickly pulls open the changing room, a radiant smile illuminating her face. Sam jogs to her side, receiving her in his arms with a searing kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here--” Sam silences her, pressing his lips harder into hers, causing them both to giggle into breathless moans. Brynn opens her eyes and notices Sam has a garment bag in his hands. “What’s that?”

“Change into this.”

Brynn raises an eyebrow. “What? Why--?”

“It’s not new,” Sam informs, “but God,” he sighs, allowing a mischievous grin grow across his face. “--you look amazing in it.” Sam’s eyes lock onto Brynn’s, time and place fading around them. Brynn’s cheeks begin to flush, feeling the desire in his gaze. Sam cups Brynn’s cheek, licking his lip. “Go on,” he whispers, directing her to the dressing room and lightly spanking her on her ass, “we’ve got places to be.”

Brynn suspiciously steps backwards into the changing room, dragging her teeth across her bottom lip. She hangs up the garment bag, unzipping it hastily. Allowing the fabric to slink through her fingers, Brynn’s breath hitches, tears collecting in her eyes. Inside the protector is a short, solid black, one-shoulder dress, the same dress she wore on their official first date, the same dress she wore the night he proposed to her.

She pulls the curtain back open, causing Sam to whistle with his teeth, a golden gleam in his eyes. Giving his mother a kiss on the cheek, he steals Brynn from his family, escorting her to the car. Giving a nod to Carter, the car starts moving.

Brynn relaxes into Sam’s comforting arms. He begins to nuzzle his supple lips into her ear and neck. “Thank you, baby,” she moans. “I’m sorry for interrupting your meeting--”

“I’m not--” he growls as his lips descend to her exposed shoulder, nibbling on it.

“Sam--” Brynn gasps, leaning into the passionate smolder of his pout.

Suddenly, the car stops. Sam looks up at Brynn, offering his hand for hers. “Are you ready?”

Brynn giggles, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t even know where we are.”

Sam helps her out of the car. As she steps away from the car door to adjust her dress, she notices the grand cement gray building in front of her, adorned with large ornate columns and intricately chiseled statues. Stairs that lead to the front doors are busy with people coming and going.

Brynn furrows her eyebrows. Confused and wanting answers, she whirls around--only to find Sam on one knee. A curious smile grows across Brynn’s face as she self-consciously looks around at the crowd of people. “Sam, what are you doing?”

“You asked me earlier on the phone to look at you,” he smiles brightly as his eyes begin to glisten with tears. “I am.” He takes a big breath, gathering courage. “Brynn, I don’t care if we eat gold-infused cake with diamond encrusted icing or that fake shit from the can--” they both begin laughing, welcoming the comic relief as they wipe away their tears. Sam continues, “I don’t care whether you are wearing one of my ratty-old tees or an expensive couture dress--I don’t care,” he kisses her hand. “When I look at you, Brynn Noelle Schuyler, all I see… is that you’re the only one for me.” Brynn genuinely glows, streams of tears pouring down her cheeks as she subtly shakes her head in disbelief. “Marry me--”

“Sam,” she giggles, sniffing away her tears, “I don’t mean to ruin the moment, but haven’t you already asked me--?” Sam stands up, shaking his head. He takes Brynn’s face tenderly into his hands, drying her tears with his thumbs.

“Marry me,” he bites his lip, nervously sucking in air. “Right now.” Brynn’s eyes grow wide as she stares deeply into Sam’s gaze. She anxiously looks around her, her eyes darting to the people staring at them, to the car and then to the courthouse before them.

“Right now?”

“Right now,” Sam smiles, humored by the shocked look on his bride’s face.

Brynn looks down at her hand, staring at the radiant sparkle of her diamond. Chewing on her lip, she subtly nods her head before turning her attention back to her groom.

“Okay.”

***

@ao719 @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @forallthatitsworth @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268@neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonsaid @shewillreadyou @somersetmummy @thefrenchiemama

[jlalafics]

"Almost Paradise"-a birthday story for mrspeetamellark!

Happy birthday @mrspeetamellark! This is one day late but I hope you enjoy this continuation of your lifeguard!Peeta story!

You can find the first part here.

Also, mind the smut at the end.

______

“How do I look?” Katniss stepped into the living room where Annie and Finnick sat on the couch. “Do I look too much like a girl who’s seen nothing but forests and whose pastime is archery?”

She did a little twirl in her sleeveless green jersey dress and cropped jean jacket for the couple.

“You look cute!” Annie stood up, rounding her. “But take the jacket off.”

“And undo the braid,” Finnick added.

Katniss shrugged the jacket off, handing it to Annie before unraveling her braid.

“Why?”

“If you’re cold, he can’t give you his jacket or put an arm around you if you’re wearing one, can he?” Annie pointed out.

“And nothing is sexier than a hair flip and an over-the-shoulder smile,” Finnick told her.

Katniss snorted. “What do you mean?”

The man bent his head, throwing it back before looking over his shoulder to smile at Annie and Katniss.

“See?” Finnick smirked. “Irresistible.”

“Is that how Annie got you?” Katniss asked.

“No, it’s how he got me,” her cousin replied. “His hair was at his shoulders at the time.”

There was a knock on the door.

“He’s here!” Finnick screamed out excitedly.

Katniss laughed, going to the door. “I thought I was going out with Peeta.”

“I’m just really happy for you,” Finnick replied.

“He’s hoping that you’ll stay the night with Peeta so we can shag like rabbits,” Annie said as Katniss opened the door.

“I should at least take you to dinner before you stay over.”

Peeta stepped into the house, his eyes meeting Katniss’. He kissed her cheek.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Katniss looked over Peeta in his brown leather jacket, fitted white tee, and jeans. “You look great.”

“Yes, very dreamy,” Annie agreed.

Finnick fluttered his lashes. “I’d do you.”

“On that note, we should go,” Katniss told him. “Bye, guys.”

Annie gave her a hug. “Have a shit ton of fun.”

Taking Peeta’s hand, Katniss led him out the door.

“Use protection!” Finnick called out, just as the door closed behind them.

++++++

“My Mom is the local medicine woman while my sister assists her,” Katniss said as they strolled. “I’ve never been very good at all the medicinal stuff which is surprising since I usually go hunting with my Dad or Gale…well, maybe just my Dad now.” She turned to the man, smiling at her in amusement. “I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?”

“No, I like it,” Peeta said as he gazed at her. “You have a lot to say and I want to hear it all.”

“Maybe it’s because I kind of disappear into the background a lot of the time,” she told him. “Being a hunter and all. I mean, everyone who lives in my neighborhood looks the same. Dark hair, olive skin…Mom and Prim are the exception. Both blonde and blue-eyed.”

“Why is that?”

“My Mom grew up in the higher-class part of District 12,” she explained. “And she ran off with my Dad.”

“So, they were Star-Crossed Lovers,” Peeta replied.

“Yup, minus the gang fights and death.” Katniss looked around the line of shops along the wooden-slatted walkway. “Where are we?”

“This is District 4’s commercial area,” he explained. “This is where visitors like yourself might come to eat at a restaurant or buy some local goods. The folks from the Capitol come here during the summer and double our revenue for the year.”

“We don’t have anything like that in 12,” Katniss replied. “Unless you’d be interested in goat’s milk or cheese made by Prim’s goat.” Peeta raised a brow and she chuckled. “Yes, my sister has a goat.”

He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Would buying goat’s milk score me brownie points with you?”

Katniss closed in the space between their joined hands. “Maybe.”

Peeta stopped, reaching to lift her chin. “Maybe?”

“Probably,” she relented, her chin wobbling in nervousness.

The way Peeta gazed at her was exhilarating and unnerving, all at once. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. If she was being entirely honest, most of her thoughts regarding this strong-jaw, golden-haired man were not entirely clean.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Katniss swallowed harshly. “Starving.”

Peeta stepped towards her, his hands going to her shoulders—to turn her around.

In front of her was a storefront displaying an array of pastries and cakes, but it wasn’t the food that made her jaw drop slightly.

It was the sign.

“Mellark Bakery?” Katniss turned to him, a smile playing on her lips. “You have a bakery.”

“My family has one,” he told her simply. “I thought that we might explore some career options for you.”

Katniss was confused. “What?”

“You said that you didn’t have your dream job.” Peeta pulled her towards the entrance. “I thought maybe we could see if you cut it in the culinary world.”

“Or I could possibly burn the place down,” she retorted.

“Come on. If anything, it will be something worth remembering,” he told her.

“I can’t believe that you remembered the ramblings of a deranged woman who swam right into an undertow.”

“Kind of hard to forget when you were screaming in my ear.” Peeta put an arm around her, his mouth brushing against her lobe. Her legs almost caved at the motion. “I think it will be fun. Doing something together in the back of the bakery.”

“Fine.” Katniss let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m lucky because you said yes.”

++++++

After stepping into the bakery, Katniss was introduced to Peeta’s parents, Charlie and Roberta.

“How did you get Peeta’s name?” she asked immediately. “Your names are surprisingly normal.”

The elder Mellarks immediately took to her with easy chuckles.

“I was under some heavy-duty pain relief after he came out,” Roberta answered. “And Charlie here was running on no sleep at that point. One of us must have sputtered out, Peeta.”

“They just wanted to be different,” Peeta told her, arm still slung around her shoulders affectionately. “But they kept in order.”

She turned to him curiously. “Meaning?”

“Nop,” Charlie replied, a grin that Peeta obviously inherited, on his mouth.

“You Mellarks are confusing,” Katniss said with a shake of her head.

“Not Nop, but N-O-P.” Peeta looked to his parents in affectionate exasperation. “As in Noli, Oren, and Peeta. So, as you can see, I got the best name of the bunch.”

“I guess I must be pretty boring with my plant name,” she replied. “At least, Prim got a sweet one, and it fits her perfectly.”

The bell at the top of the front door interrupted their conversation and Peeta quickly led her to the back of the bakery, where she was greeted by stainless steel counters and industrial ovens. There, Peeta told her that they would be making sticky buns for them to eat. He pulled his family’s recipe book from the back office and showed her the recipe.

“You’re the first non-Mellark to see this book in years,” he told her.

“Don’t worry.” Katniss smiled at the man beside her. “I won’t steal your precious recipes.”

They both got to work making the dough and Peeta showed her how to add the ingredients into one of the electric mixers. After, standing behind her, he instructed her on kneading the dough to the right consistency—smooth and just a little sticky.

“There you go,” he said lowly, his warm breath against the nape of her neck. Katniss’ breath quickened at the feeling of him pressed to her back. “Just put a little more pressure into the dough.” He moved her hair to one side, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’re actually pretty good at this.”

Katniss made another fold, pressing into the dough.

“It’s actually relaxing,” she admitted.

Peeta took a bowl, placing the dough in it so it could rise.

While they waited, Katniss told him more about District 12, about the main street where there was very little commercial area. How her father recently retired from the mines and how one of her friends was the mayor’s daughter.

“You’d like Madge,” she said. “She’s very sweet, all blonde hair and blue eyes.” Katniss peered at him. “Maybe I won’t. I tend to become invisible when Madge is around—”

“I happen to have an affinity for brunettes with smoky eyes,” Peeta told her. “You’re not invisible, Katniss.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest as he kissed her temple. “I see you.”

“Thank you for telling me that.” Katniss turned to look at him. “I see you, too.”

Peeta’s hands reached to cradle her cheeks and her breath hitched in anticipation. He leaned and Katniss didn’t pull away when he brushed his lips to hers. It was the gentlest of touches, but it spread through her like wildfire.

“More,” she breathed against their kiss.

Peeta shifted, and their lips once more. Her bottom lip was pillowed between his own and he sucked at her tender flesh, drawing a moan out of her chest. Her hands reached, carding through his hair to grip and anchor her as Katniss felt that she might collapse in pleasure at any moment.

“You are fucking delicious,” he whispered along her tongue. “I want to taste every part of you—”

“Well, don’t do it here!” They pulled apart to see Charlie at the doorway leading to the front. “I don’t want to tell my grandkid that he or she was conceived on the counter where their Dad was.”

“Moment’s over.” Peeta helped her off the counter—how did she even get up there? He gave her an apologetic smile. “For what it’s worth, that was one hell of a first kiss.”

She had to agree.

Katniss had wanted a kiss where she saw stars behind her eyes—and she did.

However, it didn’t compare to what she felt as their lips met.

Fire.

++++++

After being discovered by Charlie—or Dad, as he insisted Katniss to call her—the man had sent them away with a basket of bread and pastries, along with some cheese, meat, and wine. They had found a nearby parklet decorated with flowers and made sandwiches.

They sipped on their wine while Peeta told her more about the Mellark Family. Their bakery had been a staple in District 4 since Peeta’s great-grandfather had built it from the ground up. Roberta was a Capitol transfer that had come when she was in her teens in search of adventure. What she had found was love, Charlie sweeping her off her feet and putting a ring on it as soon as he could.

“I think Noli might’ve been the reason for the rush,” Peeta told her with a smirk. “Don’t let them know that I know.”

Peeta’s two older brothers were working in different Districts, Noli in District 2 and Oren in District 7, but visited often.

“Oren’s girlfriend is actually from District 7 and they’re visiting in the next few days. You should meet Johanna. I think you’ll like her.”

When they were finished with their food, they returned the basket to his parents and Peeta came back with keys to a Land Rover that had seen better days. The blue paint was rusting and when Peeta turned on the engine, she could feel the hard rumble directly under her.

They had set off on a tour of District 4 and Peeta had pointed out the Hall of Justice in their town square and the mayor’s home, a block away from it. He showed her where he and his brothers went to school. After graduation, Peeta had been the one who decided to stay in District 4 and would eventually take over Mellark Bakery.

He had a love for baking, finding peace in just creating.

Katniss admired that he had found his place in the world.

“Tell me about this guy you’re supposed to marry.”

She met his eyes as he stoked the bonfire in front of them.

They had settled on the beach after their tour, the tide low enough so they could settle close to the water.

“Gale is…complicated and simple all at the same time.” Her fingers dragged along the cool sand. The moon rose over the water, highlighting the curiosity on Peeta’s handsome, sculpted face as he waited for her to continue. “It would be simple to marry him and start a family. That been the plan—to him at least.”

“And why is he complicated?”

“Because I want more,” Katniss replied. “I’m not ready to settle. Not in District 12 and not with him.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want lukewarm love…a lukewarm life. My family is great, but they know me enough to see that I’m floundering in 12. It was why Prim urged me to just leave after Gale got down on one knee.”

“She’s one smart sixteen-year-old,” Peeta remarked.

Katniss nodded in agreement. “Definitely an old soul.” She stood up, holding out her hand to him. Peeta took it and rose from his seat. “You ever want more?”

“Not until recently,” he told her, his blue eyes darkened in the moonlight.

The heat between them was inescapable. However, neither made a move to part.

Instead, their bodies only pressed closer until Katniss could feel the prickle of her hardening nipples against Peeta’s broad chest.

Her eyes went to his. “What do you want?”

“I thought that much was clear,” he told her roughly.

Their mouths met in a crushing kiss. Her hands grasped at his biceps as he encircled her waist, pressing his pelvis to hers and she pressed up, feeling the cloth of his jeans against her clit.

Peeta growled, his lips moving off to taste and suckle her skin. Katniss purred as he reached the juncture of her neck and bit lightly. She watched as he kissed along the neckline of her dress, his hands grazing the sides of her breasts teasingly before he sunk to his knees.

Panic gripped her and grabbed his wrists. “What are you doing?”

Peeta grinned. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I’ll never come that way,” she told him simply. “And this has been better than anything I ever felt. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Give me a chance,” he replied, his hands on her hips to keep her from joining him on the sand. “If you don’t like it, then we’ll stop.”

Slowly, Katniss acquiesced.

Peeta lifted her skirt, carefully tucking it up into the elastic waistline. He stared at her bare skin for a moment and she consciously rested a hand to her stomach.

Thank God, she wore her cute underwear.

“Lovely,” he breathed out.

Peeta kissed along her thighs, letting her get comfortable enough to widen the opening between them. His mouth pressed to the insides and she knew that he could taste her arousal, his tongue swiping quickly along the line of her panties.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said hoarsely.

His mouth went to her clit, sucking through the lace, and she keened at the sudden twist in her belly.

Her hands moved to her panties and he helped her, guiding them off her before they found their place in his back pocket.

Peeta’s mouth was immediately on her cunt, roughly kissing along her sodden labia and her hands dug into his hair, holding him in place. This was something that she had never felt before, waves of desire pulsing through her core and she tried to catch that feeling with each swipe of his tongue.

“Ride my face,” he commanded, hitching her thigh over his shoulder. “I want to taste all of you.”

Katniss let out a breath at the desperate tone in his words. She pressed her pelvis closer to him, experimentally moving back and forth along his tongue as his hands cupped her bottom.

When her clit hit his nose, she let out a hiss. “Fuck!”

He chuckled against her cunt, before pressing his tongue flat against the nerve before thrusting two fingers inside her.

The euphoria took over and Katniss moved a hand to her chest, pinching a nipple and feeling the sparks of pleasure course to her core. Her other hand remained firm on Peeta’s head as he sucked and fucked her with his tongue and fingers.

Katniss felt herself there at the edge, surprised at how quickly Peeta had gotten her there—but she let herself fall into it.

Like that afternoon, she headed right into a riptide, knowing Peeta would be her rescuer.

“Oh…fuck…” Her hips canted on her own as she crested, pushing her cunt onto his face. “…I’m coming—” Peeta’s fingers quickened as he lapped at her peak. “…yes…Peeta!”

Her body snapped and Katniss arched, crying out into the dark sky as her orgasm crashed over her body and she felt the warm release seep out her conto Peeta’s waiting mouth. He was gentle, lightly tasting her as she came down from her high.

Carefully, they fell back onto the sand, breathing harshly, as they looked up the starry heaven above them.

Katniss reached for Peeta’s hand and he entwined their fingers, squeezing her hand tenderly.

Peeta tugged until she rested her head against his chest, and she sighed contently at the feeling of solidity that being with him brought her.

“I think I found what I was looking for,” she said quietly.

His hand settled in her hair. “And what is that?”

Katniss turned; her chin pressed to his chest so she could meet his azure eyes.

“You.”

Peeta smiled, the warmth of it spreading through her body and causing a flutter in her stomach.

She didn’t know if this was love, but she was willing to stay until she knew what it was.

“Do you want to go…” Peeta’s gaze was careful, his hand moving along her hair as to not break the spell between them. “…to my place?”

Finnick would be getting his wish.

Katniss nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

“Let��s go.”

*I’d like to do another part at some point…

[tiffdawg]

Some Kind of Magic | A Frankie Morales x Reader Story

Part Three of the Summer Sunlight Series

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 1.1k

Rating: T | Warnings: family fluff, allusions to baby making.

Request: @b0n-chann​ requested 68 (you didn’t have to ask) and 80 (is your seatbelt on?) from this list with Frankie for the 500 Celebration. Thank you for the request my love! 

A/N: I was hoping to have something more substantial to share this weekend but apparently all I have in me is some super soft Frankie fluff. This is from a request for my 500 follower celebration eight months ago... which took an embarrassingly long time to fulfill. It follows One Summer Night and Golden Hour which you can find on my masterlist.

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

... . ...

Some Kind of Magic

Beams of golden sunlight broke through the canopy of leaves to light the forest floor. With bubbling laughter, your precocious daughter danced between them, always careful not to disturb the seedlings along the trail. Despite the uphill hike to the river where you’d enjoyed a picnic lunch earlier that afternoon, she was as energetic as ever. Of course, her father had carried her on his back most of the trek up. The man was defenseless against her pouty lips and big brown eyes that matched his own.

As you glanced over at Frankie, you found a dreamy smile on his handsome face as he watched Celia play. In a silent gesture meant to convey that you felt the exact same way, you squeezed his hand, still firmly clasped in yours even after miles of walking.

“That little girl is magic,” he said quietly before turning to you with a soft look, “just like you.”

 “I think she takes after you,” you countered. Frankie pulled you closer and pressed a quick kiss to your smile. 

“She’s the best of both of us,” he reasoned. There was a mischievous spark in his eyes when he added, “we made a good kid.” 

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed enthusiastically. You’d loved Frankie before you’d ever so much as kissed him. In the last decade following that first kiss one summer long ago, your relationship proved steady and sturdy and full of love. You made a good team as partners and as parents. It was no wonder you had such a great kid. 

Ahead of you, Celia’s curiosity got the better of her and she knelt to inspect something on the trail. Bear, the fluffy Burmese Mountain Dog you and Celia had found at a shelter and surprised Frankie with a few months ago on his birthday, stopped beside her. The dog was never far behind her as he was the little girl’s best friend and fiercest protector. A moment later, the two came sprinting back toward you.

“¡Papá, mira!” she called to Frankie as she jumped into his outstretched arms. He groaned as he hoisted her up so that her weight rested on his hip. The four-year-old seemed to grow every day right before your eyes and you had a hard time believing she wasn’t a baby anymore.

“What did you find?” he asked.

With a toothy grin, she proudly showed him the heart-shaped rock sitting in the palm of her hand. “It’s for you.”

“I’ll keep it forever,” Frankie promised as he smiled lovingly at his daughter. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, and you knew it was a matter of moments before she’d finally fall fast asleep. Judging by the way Frankie held her, you also knew he wouldn’t mind carrying her the rest of the way. With as quickly as time passed and as fast as she seemed to grow, it wouldn’t be long until he’d be unable to hold her like that. It was a bittersweet thought. One that made your heart ache with premature nostalgia and reminded you to enjoy every moment the three of you had together.

And the sight of Frankie and your daughter bathed in the light of late afternoon was nothing short of a perfect moment. It was almost too good to be true but something so wonderfully real.

… . …

After loading up the back of your crossover – a family car Frankie insisted you have the moment you mentioned the idea of trading in your old sedan shortly after you found out that you were pregnant – you helped Bear inside and climbed in the driver’s seat. As you belted yourself in, you caught sight of Frankie setting your sleeping daughter carefully into her new booster seat. You paused for a moment just to watch because as mundane as it might’ve seemed to anyone else, it was a sight that always melted your heart.

“There you go little lady,” he said quietly.

 Not even half awake, Celia responded with a mumbled “I love you, papá.”

“I love you too, mija,” he said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Ever the worried father, almost as soon as he was settled in the passenger seat, Frankie turned and double checked her seatbelt. He also spared a quick glance at the dog, also securely belted and already fast asleep with his head in Celia’s lap. And then his eyes found yours. “Is your seatbelt on?” he asked like always.

 “Yes, Francisco,” you answered with a smile and a playful roll of your eyes. “You don’t have to ask.” 

“Of course I do,” he muttered, looking slightly offended. “Gotta keep my family safe.” 

It was a familiar sentiment, but it warmed your heart all the same. So, after you shifted the gear into drive, you rested your hand on top of his, your fingers slotting together perfectly. As you headed west toward the sunset, you smiled to yourself as you felt the cool metal of his wedding band against your skin.

It was a quiet journey down the mountainside with only the intermittent static of the radio, still out of range, between songs and Bear’s soft snores breaking the silence. When you stopped at the first intersection in miles, Frankie turned to you with that shy grin you loved so much. “This might’ve been my favorite anniversary yet.”

“You say that every year,” you teased.

“And each year is better than the last,” he replied emphatically, his brows raising above his wide eyes.

“I know,” you sighed happily. “Can you believe we’ve been married five years already?”

His only response was to lean over the center console and kiss you soundly. A kiss you returned with equal fervor. “I love you even more than I did five years ago,” he said with astonishment lacing his voice when you finally parted. “I didn’t think that was possible.” 

“I know what you mean,” you said as you scratched at his scruff on his cheek. You noted a few new gray spots fondly. “I love you too.”

““So,” he started carefully. You followed his gaze back to Celia. “How about one more?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to ponder the question the two of you had been debating for months. “Our family hike might be over, but the anniversary celebrations don’t have to end just yet. How about we start tonight?”

His eyes darkened as he grinned wolfishly at you. “I can’t fucking wait.”

“That’s a dollar!” Celia called from the backseat.

“I thought you were sleeping!” Frankie feigned exasperation with an exaggerated sigh. Celia’s amused giggles were absolutely infectious.

... . ...

Thank you so much for reading!

... . ...

Forever Tags: @leo-moon​ @readsalot73​ @frietiemeloen​ @huliabitch​ @jerusomeeno​ @benedrylcumbersnatch @b0n-chann​ @scapricciatello​ @liadamerondjarin​ @pedropasscals​ @paintballkid711​ @mistermiraclee​ @honeyand-roses​ @mxsamwilson​ @themilkface​ @mylifeliterally​ @mskitty79 @rosiefridayrogersunday​ @perropascal​ @giselatropicana​ @roxypeanut​ @divineangelix​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @kylerr @aerolanya​ @artsymaddie​ @linkpk88​ @antisocialshipper​ @toastytaurus @321-lets-go​ @kesskirata @gredandfeorgesgirl​ @lou-la-lou​ @helga1031​ @ktmadden86​ @lesbianlena @mtjoi​ @pedropascaldice​ @swimmingsloths​ @lovelyasfcuk​ @technicallykawaiisoul​ @cinewhore​ @ali-cide​ @reidocognito​ @metaphorical-love-for-a-car​ @iamskyereads​ @magpie-to-the-morning​ @stardust-galaxies​ @melaniermblt​ @jenrebloggingfics​ @gondowan​

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[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Betelgeuse Above The Horizon

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Fem Reader

Request: “don’t cry” and “this is all my fault” for delia x reader?

Summary: reader comforts Cordelia after she failed to rescue Queenie from the Cortez

A/N: thank you to the anon who requested this <3 I hope you’ll like it. No warnings ; this is your typical hurt/comfort fic

Word count: ~ 3 000

You closed the back door behind you as gently as you could. It was a hot summer night, and most of the girls slept with their windows open. No one liked to be awakened at 2:30 am.

You looked up at the clear sky and flashed a wistful smile at the stars. The moon had set half an hour ago and there was a perfect spot behind the greenhouse that blocked most of the city lights. You walked quickly, the cool grass tickling your bare feet, clutching a pillow to your chest.

You had been suffering from insomnia for the past couple years. Some nights were fine, but there were others when thoughts would keep buzzing and buzzing in your head and sleep would elude you entirely. So on those nights, you had taken to study the stars.

It was beautiful, looking up at the darkest time of night to see the twinkling, jeweled immensity of the sky. It soothed your heart.

You had barely got any sleep in the past week. Too many thoughts. Most of them were about Cordelia. Yet again tonight you had lain in your bed turning and tossing and seeing her face behind your eyelids, remembering something she had said to you today, or how close her hand had been to yours when she had put her empty glass in the sink. You were falling hard for your Supreme and it was driving you crazy.

You had contemplated making a move a few days ago, but rather quite abruptly changed your mind. For Cordelia had come back alone from the Hotel Cortez.

She had been gone longer than expected. When one of the girls came into your room to tell you Miss Cordelia was finally home, you all but ran downstairs to welcome her. When you reached the landing of the stairs it dawned on you that the girl had not mentioned Queenie. A feeling of dread settled in your chest, and expanded when you took one look at Cordelia. Her shoulders were slumped, her face pale and sad. She looked so exhausted you were afraid she might collapse where she stood, so you rushed to her and laid one hand on her shoulder for support and comfort. She met your gaze briefly, and your heart broke at the sadness and shame you could see in her eyes.

Cordelia was always so strong. So brave and so powerful. She was the last light to shine when everything else had succumbed to darkness. To see her look so defeated did not only sadden you; it felt terribly wrong.  

Zoe walked in with a bright smile on her face and sang, “Welcome back Queenie!” She had meant no harm, of course, had not yet realized. Cordelia’s face fell, and so did Zoe’s. Your grip on Cordelia’s arm tightened.

Cordelia lowered her eyes. Her chin trembled. Then she glanced back up at Zoe, eyes watering, and shook her head.

She did not say much, merely asked if she was needed for anything before she announced she had sleep to catch up on. You followed her up to her room without thinking, stopped awkwardly in her doorway. She turned back to look at you, patiently waiting, and your heart broke again at the sadness that was her smile.

“Er, is there anything I can do… ?”

She shook her head. Her hair was duller than usual and looked thinner around her tired face.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You clutched your pillow tighter as you walked along the greenhouse, and sighed. There had been a constant, dull ache in your heart ever since Cordelia’s return, that you could not get rid of. It tinted everything you did, thought and felt, covered the world in a clear, grey light like the light in winter and lent it sadness. You flashed another wistful smile at the stars.  

You rounded the corner of the greenhouse and suddenly stopped. A light was on, and you could just see the shape of a woman sitting among the plants. You heard a voice, too, a faint mumble, and a few notes of mellow jazz music.  

You hesitated, stroking your chin on the top of the pillow as you stared at the shape. It was barely visible, but your heart recognized it.

You set the pillow down by the door and walked into the greenhouse.

Cordelia raised her head at the sound of your footsteps. Her eyes were red as if she had been crying. You offered her a smile as you walked up to her.

“Hey,” you said.

“Hey there.” The smile she gave you in return had none of its usual warmth. If anything, it made her look sadder still. “You’re up late.”

You shrugged. “So are you.”

She was leaning over a green plant in a pot, her fingers distractedly stroking one of the long drooping leaves. You gestured towards it.

“What’s this?”

Cordelia took a long time to answer. “A friend of mine once told me she thought those leaves have healing properties. That they could soothe, any kind of ache.” She paused, swallowed. When she spoke again her voice was higher and trembling slightly. “I tried brewing them in multiple ways, but all I can make out of them is bad tea.”

“Um,” was all you could answer. The sadness in her voice was like a slap in your face. Again it hit you, how wrong it was, how terribly wrong it felt. Shame and defeat should never have anything to do with Cordelia.

You dug your fingers in your arm to stop yourself from pulling her into your arms.

“It’s too bad that friend of mine isn’t here anymore,” Cordelia went on. Her hand tugged at the leaf, so hard you thought it would tear. “Misty, was her name.”

“Where is she?” you asked carefully.

Cordelia lifted her head as she gave a sad, almost cruel, little laugh. Her eyes briefly met yours, big and dark and lost.

“Why, she’s dead. Another girl I couldn’t save.” Cordelia slammed her hands on the table, making you jump. “Another girl I failed. You know, sometimes I do believe my mother was right about me. She would have been able to save them. I know she would.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, watching her, at a loss for what to do or say to comfort her. She was your strong rock, she had always been so. Now all you could do was stand still as your heart clenched for her and your brain grappled with words.

Cordelia closed her eyes, forced herself to take a deep breath. She opened her eyes again and gave you another sad smile. A tear rolled down her cheek, which she quickly wiped with shaky fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sad laugh.

Before you knew it, your hand was extending towards her.

“Come on,” you said. “Come with me.”

Cordelia’s eyes widened in surprise. She looked like she was about to protest, but then her hand slipped into yours. You gave her fingers a squeeze, the warmth of her skin spreading all the way to your heart and head.

You shut the light in the greenhouse, led Cordelia out and into the starry night. The air outside smelt of grass and of that distinctive, earthly smell that always comes with summer.

You picked up the pillow, and led Cordelia to your usual stargazing spot.

“You know what I do when I can’t sleep?” you asked in a whisper.

You dropped the pillow, gestured for Cordelia to sit down. In the dark her hair glowed faintly. There was a glint of light from the stars in her eyes.

“I watch the constellations.” You smiled, not sure she’d see it, but knowing she would hear it in your voice. “I’ve become quite good at finding them. I could tell you.”

There was a pause, silence only broken by the fastening beat of your heart in your ears. The darkness seemed to have sharpened your senses, for you could feel Cordelia’s presence as if it were hugging your soul.

You waited nervously, until finally came her answer: “I’d love to.”

You beamed.

“Ok ok,” you said, “lie down, use the pillow for your head.”

You lay side by side on the grass. It tickled your neck and ears, and you had to readjust your position several times until you were satisfied. Your arm touched Cordelia’s. You contemplated removing it, chose not to. Cordelia did not move either.

As children do, you pointed out constellations to her, trying to give precise directions but failing miserably. The tightness in your throat relaxed when Cordelia, unable to find Capella, finally let out a genuine laugh.

The touch of her skin against yours was like a fire in your arm, but a fire that causes no pain, only brings warmth.

“Scorpius is my favourite,” you said, tracing your finger over it.  “Especially when it’s so close to the horizon. It looks like the tail of a giant animal hiding behind the Earth.”

Cordelia laughed again. You heard something move, and then felt the warmth of Cordelia’s fingers as they laced with yours. Sparks flew to your head, and your heart purred.

“I didn’t know you were so well versed in astronomy,” Cordelia whispered. “You put your own Supreme’s knowledge to shame.”

You didn’t miss the bitterness in her words, the way her voice wavered slightly at the end of her sentence. You gave her hand a squeeze, and moved your arm so that more of your skin was touching hers. Something warm fizzed in your stomach.

“You know what?” you said suddenly, without thinking. “In all my time of stargazing, I found you in the sky.” You pointed across the sky from Scorpius. “See Orion here? See the bright orange star on the left? That’s Betelgeuse. That’s you.”

Cordelia scoffed sadly. She raised her free hand to wipe her cheek.

“You’re the arm that raises Orion’s weapon,” you told her, a soft, dreamy smile tugging at your lips, “one of the biggest stars we know of, and the day you turn into a supernova – which will only be in a few thousand years, a blink of the eye, mind you – you’ll be visible from Earth even by day. You’ll shine in our sky and everyone will look up at you in wonder.”

There was a pause, as you absentmindedly stroke your thumb over Cordelia’s and grinned at the star, and then a sob burst out of Cordelia, low and painful. You turned to her quickly in confusion.

“Oh, no, no,” you mumbled, propping yourself up on your elbow, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – oh, please don’t cry.”

Cordelia was swiping at her eyes urgently, probably unwilling to let you, one of her girls, see her in that vulnerable state, but the tears were coming too fast, and her shoulders were shaking with sobs.

That was the last straw. Before you knew it, you had scooted over and she was in your arms, one of your hands coming to rest on her back, the other one running gently in her hair. She didn’t protest, and hid her face in the crook of your neck.

“Poor Queenie,” you heard her say. She wasn’t trying to control herself anymore: her voice came out weak and broken, heavy with guilt. It made tears pool in your own eyes. “She trusted me to get her out of that horrible, satanic hotel. She looked so relieved to see me, so confident, and I… I failed her,” she finished in a breath. You felt her tears on your skin and held her tighter.

“Now she’s trapped for eternity, just as Misty is, because I was too weak to save them. I can  – “ She choked on a sob, let out a pitiful wail that clawed at your heart. “I can f-feel their despair and anguish and it’s all my fault.”

“Hold on, no.” You pulled away a bit too abruptly to look at her, and cupped her face. Her skin was wet and hot under your fingers. It took all of your self-control not to kiss it dry.

When you spoke, your voice was firm and verging on angry. “Now you listen to me. None of it was your fault. Bad things happen all the time, and sometimes they simply cannot be fixed.” You paused to take a breath, stroked your thumb over her cheekbone and caught another tear. “You cannot save everyone, Cordelia. It already means so much that you try.”

“But I – “ Cordelia started. You cut her off.

“And your mother, Cordelia, your mother.” In the dark you rolled your eyes and winced. “I didn’t get to know her, but from what I’ve heard she wouldn’t even have tried to save any of them. She wouldn’t even have cared. “

Again, Cordelia’s mouth opened to protest, but you had had enough. So, without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her silent.

It was nothing more than a peck, a mere touching of lips, but it felt better and sweeter than any kiss you had ever given. You pulled away, baffled by your own action, to blink at Cordelia. Her eyes were wide, mouth slightly opened. It seemed to you she had stopped breathing.

“I – “ you started, but words vanished from your brain.

Cordelia blinked. Another tear rolled down her cheek. You leaned in again, kissed it away. Her skin was soft and warm and smelt like summer.

Slowly, Cordelia tilted her head until her mouth met yours

It seemed to you the world had stopped turning. The stars had frozen in the sky and held their breaths as they watched.

You pressed closer into Cordelia, one of your hands coming down to grip at her arm, the other cupping her cheek, wiping the tears that were still clinging to her skin. Her lips were soft and wet and more intoxicating than the most intoxicating of wines. It made your head spin. Or maybe it was just the world, which had started turning again.    

When Cordelia broke the kiss, you kept your eyes closed for a few seconds, savouring the taste of her still on your lips. Afraid you would open your eyes and find her gone. That had happened so many times before when you had awakened from dreams.

But here she was, her hair a faint halo in the dark, her eyes bigger than the sky, and oh, how your heart swelled when her lips curled up into a soft, fond smile.

You cleared your throat. “Well,” you said, your voice husky. “That was unexpected.”

Cordelia chuckled. She bit her lip, raising one hand to touch your face.

“I’m glad you couldn’t sleep,” she whispered.    

“Um.” You kissed her palm. “Me too.”

For a while you kept silent, staring into each other’s eyes, a goofy smile on both your faces. And then Cordelia’s smile flickered, and here was that sadness again, clouding her eyes.

“Hey,” you whispered, lifting one hand and running the pad of your index over her brow. You leaned in and kissed it until the creases of worry disappeared. You cupped her cheek and smiled at her. “It’ll be okay. None of this pain will last.”

For a moment Cordelia just stared at you, and then she gave one almost imperceptible nod. One of her hands slipped behind your neck to pull you close and plant soft, chaste kisses on your lips. Again, the stars held their breaths. From somewhere far away came the sound of fireworks, or maybe it was just your heart celebrating. Cordelia nibbled at your lower lip and gently licked it, her tongue hot and wet, and she released a breath through her nose that tickled your cheek and sent tingles down your spine.

She closed her eyes and rested her head on the pillow, and you lay yours on her chest, humming contentedly as you listened to her heartbeat. Around you all was quiet. One of Cordelia’s hands absently ran through your hair.

“I’ll visit her once in a while,” Cordelia whispered. “Queenie. To make sure she’s okay, and that there’s nothing more I can do.”

You hummed. “I’ll come with you if you’ll have me.”

Your eyelids were getting heavy with sleep. You pressed your nose against Cordelia’s chest, breathing her in.

“We should stay here and watch the sun rise,” you mumbled after a while.

Cordelia dropped a kiss on your forehead. You kissed her chest in return.

“Even though I may fall asleep,” you added.

She chuckled. “That’s alright. I’ll wake you.”

You lifted your head to look at her. She was staring at Betelgeuse, and she must have felt your gaze, for she tilted her head to meet your eyes. Slowly, like the sun or the moon rising, her soft, warm, glorious smile crept up her lips and chased the sadness from her eyes.

“Here we go,” you grinned, reaching out to caress the corner of her mouth. You propped yourself up and kissed her. “No more tears tonight. Let me love you under the stars.”

[fantasia-monogram]

Seven to twelve

♥️ Inseong x female reader (female anatomy); mentions of other SF9 members.

♥️  This is set in the As the clock strikes midnight universe, right after the epilogue! Read it before this one to get the context.

♥️ Smut (2.7k words); y/n is a professional Domme. Inseong is a bisexual sub. Mommy kink, degradation, spanking. Mentions of other BDSM practices.

♥️ Quality Department leader Kim Inseong has two secrets: first is his love for kink, second is a massive crush on a hot guy from HR department. Every Thursday, a trusted Domme helps him deal with frustration keeping those secrets causes.

♥️ Disclaimer: this is just for fun! I’m not claiming that’s how they are in real life, it’s just my imagination doing whatever it wants. Read at your own discretion.

As you stepped back into the dungeon, you admired the transformation the room had undergone while you were taking a shower. Your previous customer made a huge mess (still, not even comparable to the mess you've made of him). You weren't the best at cleaning - you've had other talents that got you through life, after all - so you couldn't help but be amazed at the work the cleaning staff did in such a short time. 

Gone were the wet stains on the floor, and a soiled rug had been replaced for a fresh, fluffy one. All the scary torture equipment was hidden behind partition that would automatically slide out of the nearest wall by a press of a button. Antique leather chair was switched to a cozy looking armchair with blankets laid out on the floor next to it. The mood of the otherwise pretty sterile space was warmed up thanks to pink tinted lighting. 

All of those were a tell-tale sign who your next customer would be. 

You opened the wardrobe and took a black satin-and-lace bodysuit out of it. Your usual tight corset and leather boots wouldn't be needed this time. After you put the garment on, you opted for classic shiny stilettos, and topped the outfit with a short flowy dressing gown.

Just to be sure everything was in place, you checked yourself out in the mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door: the look was a blend of a retro housewife and a pin-up girl, complete with vintage style lingerie, aggressive eyeliner and red lipstick. Just as he liked it. 

There were only minutes left to the appointment, so you stroke a couple more poses to see the outfit in different angles. Perfect. You crossed the floor in a few elegant strides, to finally take a seat on the armchair in the middle of the spacious room. 

You had a pretty chill end of the workday ahead of you. 

A soft, somewhat cautious knock on the door broke the silence. 

"Come in." 

There he was, entering hesitantly, and closing the door behind him in an awkward manner. Inseong - you had no interest in your customers' last names, it was something only the administration ladies kept for business purposes - was a tall, very tall man with broad shoulders, lanky limbs and a bit of a tummy; his face, though, was that of a teenage boy, with barely any wrinkles and nervous expression. From what he told you, he was some kind of a supervisor or a boss or something in the field of corporate banking. At that moment, however, with his black bangs covering his forehead, he was stripped out of all titles he might have held as a higher up.

Honestly, he looked pretty cute in a set of pink fleece pajamas with a print consisting of little yellow chicks. 

He stood there, big eyes looking at you anxiously. You knew he was waiting for your sign - his wish was to experience your different moods, so you always kept him uncertain for a bit. It was more fun this way. 

That night you decided to play nice, at least for a while. You put on your warmest smile, spreading your arms. 

"Come on, baby, come to Mommy!" 

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. He rushed from his place. In seconds, he sank onto his knees inbetween your spread legs. You sneaked your arms around his neck and harshly pulled him forward, only to let him plant his face right into your breasts. 

Right, he had a thing for boobs. And muscular body types. That's why he chose to pay for your services in the first place.

He stayed like this for a good minute or two, occasionally rubbing his face against your soft flesh. You kept gently patting his head this entire time, until you decided that was enough and yanked him away by a handful of hair. 

"Why don't you tell Mommy about your day, baby?" You cooed, still gripping his hair tightly. His eyes, looking even bigger, were all fired up already.

He was so easy to figure out. 

"Y-yes… Yes, Mommy, I will," he stuttered. You let go of him, so he could sink back to the floor and lie his head on your lap. 

You got back to combing your fingers through his black strands, just to keep the variety.

"There is this guy in the company…" Inseong started, his voice a bit hushed. "In another department. He's dreamy. But I don't think he's interested in me. I don't think he's interested in guys at all. Or at least in pathetic guys like me." 

You uttered a soft mhmm to encourage him. Oh, so he came in to release the frustration. You already had a plan on how to help him with that, but that required waiting for a good moment to start the actual scene. 

"I can't believe anybody would be able to resist my pretty baby," you sighed, staying in character. 

"Thank you, Mommy…" Inseong replied shyly; he knew how to behave, or rather, how to reply to your compliments. "Actually, he spends so much time with that… I can never remember her name… She's a monster. Five and barely a half feet of a goddamn monster. I've heard they want to promote her to a leadership position soon. And she's so old! I can't believe Jaeyoonie is into older women."

Your eyes went wide at the name. No way. Glad Inseong couldn't see your face right now, you quickly calmed yourself down.

"Some guys are into milfs, you know that, right, baby?" You snorted. The things you had to do just to pace the appointment right… 

"She's not a milf! She's only a year or two older than me," Inseong explained. 

Come to think of it, you had no idea how old he was, and it was hard to tell by his looks only. 

"Anyway, I'm sure he's fucking her. Or that awkward skinny boy always hanging out with them." Inseong started to sound pissed off at this point. "Now that I think of it, he could easily take them both! And that would mean he's into older women and younger guys. I don't fit into any of those demographics. What a nightmare."

"You never know," you concluded, although internally you were getting more and more suspicious of Jaeyoonie's identity. 

"But there's more…" Inseong's voice broke at the last word. "There was a company party earlier that week… I drank too much and he saw me throwing up in the bathroom… I can't believe I embarrassed myself like that…" 

That was the moment you were waiting for. You stopped your caresses immediately. 

"Wait a minute. When was that party, exactly?" 

You could feel Inseong tense up under your hand. 

"Wednesday night…" He mumbled. 

"Is that why you rescheduled from Thursday to Friday?" 

You gripped his shirt at the back of his neck. 

"Yes, Mommy… I was so hungover… I wouldn't be able to play with you…" Inseong started stumbling over his words. You slid your hand up, grasped a fistful of hair and pulled it back so he could face you in a very uncomfortable position. 

The panic that flashed through Inseong's eyes gave you a solid rush of adrenaline.

"Good boys don't drink more than they could handle," you stated in a dead serious tone. 

"B-but…" Inseong stuttered, "I have low tolerance. And everyone else was drinking…" 

You tightened the grip on his hair, eliciting a strangled whine out of him. 

"Then you shouldn't have drunk at all, you silly baby." You slowly stood up from your seat, dragging Inseong up on his knees, followed by a litany of pained whimpers. "You made Mommy sad. I've been waiting for you the entire day."

"Oh, no… I'm so sorry, Mommy…" Inseong babbled, on the verge of crying. 

Not wanting to overdo it with his emotions just yet, you let go of his hair. He barely managed to feel relief, when you forcibly grabbed his chin.

"You're Mommy's favorite boy, but you need to learn your lesson" you concluded, staring straight into his panicked eyes. "What should I do with you now?" 

Inseong went silent, nothing but anticipation pictured on his face.

"Oh, you look way too eager," you said, loosening the grip on Inseong's chin, "Go to the corner, hands on the wall." 

"No, please!" Inseong cried out, although you knew very well he was just playing along. "Not the corner!" 

"Should I make you go there on your fours?" 

The guy mumbled a barely audible I'm sorry and obediently walked to the nearest wall. He took the usual position: propped on his hands, head hanging low, his broad back facing you - obviously, with the round butt presented to you in a shameful way. 

To keep him waiting, you first took in the sight, unable to hold back a smirk. You knew soon he would be absolutely wrecked, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment and shining with tears.

Saying you loved your job would be an understatement. 

Satisfied, you approached him, clicking of your heels the only sound in the room.

"I guess I have to spank you." 

Inseong's head jerked up a little. 

"I'm going to do this through your pants, though, and I'm going to use my bare hand only."

Inseong whined, head leaning down to previous position. 

"One more complaint and I'm going to shove a plug into your hole and make you stand here for the rest of the night." 

"I'm sorry!" He apologized frantically.

It's not like you haven't done that punishment before - you smiled at the memory of him coming untouched - but he really seemed desperate for some action this time. 

You came closer and hovered your hand over the perfect curve of Inseong's butt. He trembled under your touch. So, so desperate. 

"It's gonna be thirty, because that's how many hours I had to wait between the time you rescheduled to this meeting," you announced, causing Inseong to whimper quietly.

"Can I count?" He asked shyly. 

"You're dumb enough to not know your limits, I think counting to thirty would be too much to ask." 

With that, you landed the first slap. 

You observed Inseong for a couple seconds before continuing. He didn't make a sound, but his arms shook, long fingers folding into fists against the wall. You wondered if he would even last the whole session.

Your predictions would soon turn out to be true: he started whimpering after each hit as soon as you landed the third one. When you approached the tenth, the whimpers turned into screams. Once you passed the first half, all he could do was to moan uncontrollably, his legs shaking so much you were wondering how could he even stand up at that point. 

He didn't use the safe word, not even a single word of protest escaped his mouth either, so you knew it was fine to continue. He was so close to breaking. You absolutely adored the feeling of this moment approaching.

Finally, as you were raising your hand to slap Inseong's ass for the twenty seventh time, his knees gave up. The guy sunk down to the floor, still leaning against the wall. That turned out to be too much for him, though - ultimately, he slid his hands down, too.

You looked at him intently: Inseong, resting on all fours, kept trembling, his breathing so loud you could hear it from above. What an absolute mess. You were so amused you decided to end the session on a sweet note; however, your understanding of sweet was very... specific. 

"What's that, baby? You can't take it anymore?" You cooed, approaching closer. Your shin brushed against his buttcheek.

"Mommy… I…" Inseong panted, visibly struggling to form a complete sentence. "Can I touch myself? I can't take it anymore…" 

You almost laughed at how pained his tone was. Led by curiosity, you kneeled right behind him and leaned to take a close look: indeed, he was tenting in his cute pajama pants. Pathetic.

"Mmm, I'm not sure," you mused. "I don't think you've earned the permission to touch yourself."

"Mommy, please, it hurts," Inseong pleaded. He regained the ability to speak, but his voice started breaking. 

"I want you to come, but I also want you to embarrass yourself even more, since you couldn't take your spanking like a good boy," you wondered aloud in an amused tone, "What should I do?" 

You knew exactly, but hearing Inseong hold in his breath was worth every second of suspense. 

"Anything… I'll do anything…"

Hearing that, you came to conclusion you've had enough of toying with him. You reached to ruffle his hair. He leaned into your touch like a cat.

"Dumb kittens like you don't deserve to be touched directly." 

You lodged your thigh inbetween his legs, making him moan loudly at the sudden contact. He felt hard and heavy against your skin through the fabric separating you two. 

"Work for it, baby," you commanded. 

Inseong didn't need to be told twice. Disregarding all dignity, he started grinding against your thigh, his thrusts becoming more and more furious with time, until he couldn't hold back grunts escaping his mouth. You could feel his cock getting heavier; years of having to keep your urges to yourself during sessions gave you incredible self control, but Inseong's eagerness was turning you on so much you had to think of something quick. To ground yourself, you grabbed onto his hips, helping him grind even harder. 

He looked so broken, though - with his head low on the floor, resting on his arms, and his ass high up, relying on you completely in his need for pleasure. The sounds coming out of him weren't making it any easier for you either. 

It didn't take him long to finish at this pace. He stilled, arching his back, and came with a delicious, drawn-out moan. You quickly retracted your thigh, as you felt the wetness on his pants coming in contact with your skin. 

You let him come down from his high. Once he was fine enough to sit up, you pulled him into a back hug. He sighed happily, leaning against your cleavage. 

For good measure, you planted a couple kisses on his cheek and the side of his neck, leaving bright lipstick marks all over; he giggled uncontrollably at your affectionate gesture. 

"Thank you, Mommy," Inseong purred, a smile adorning his pretty lips, "My head is so clear now. I feel so much better." 

You wondered how he could sound so innocent with a huge wet spot in the front of his pants, not to mention he probably could barely sit with his butt burning from the spanking. 

"I hope my baby has a good weekend." You kissed his cheek once again, this time letting your lips linger on his skin for a little longer. 

Inseong's legs turned out to be still too wobbly to support him, so you helped him stand up and walked him to the door. 

"You're gonna be fine in the shower?" you asked, a bit worried considering his weak state. 

"I wish Mommy would join me, but I'm a big boy. I'll manage," he assured you. 

To be honest, you wished for the same thing, but business was business, and Inseong was just your customer - no matter how much fun you had ruining him each time.

"Thank you, really. I needed that so much," he said, dropping the character. "See you next week." 

You stared at the door for a while after he left, pretty sure there was something that slipped your mind during the meeting.

At last, it hit you: Jaeyoon, probably matching Inseong's ideal buff type, working a 9-to-5 job in some corporation. Could he be your old acquaintance from the BDSM community you met at a self defense course? You wondered for a while at the possibility.

Opening the wardrobe, you briefly rested your eyes on the clock. Seven to twelve. No time to muse over the past; you hoped those two would get together eventually, because if Inseong was the supervisor Jaeyoon couldn't shut up about all those years ago, then… well, they had some catching up to do. 

[elizabeth-mitchells]

Sam Fraser Has a Good Day

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fear Street Trilogy (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Fraser/Deena Johnson Characters: Samantha "Sam" Fraser (Fear Street), Deena Johnson Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Not Canon Compliant, Everyone Is Alive, Nightmares, Breakfast, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Napping, Dancing, Late Night Conversations, Making Out, Kissing, Fluff without Plot, Domestic Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff, literally what the title says Words: 2401

In the span of a couple of days, Sam Fraser was: in a car crash, chased by several undead killers, used as bait, almost overdosed, drowned, possessed, tied up in the trunk of a car, hit in the head several times... and somehow she survived.

She deserves a good day. She deserves to: stay in her girlfriend's house and steal her sweaters, sleep until noon, have a good breakfast, eat jello in peace, get clean bandages, play video games, eat ice cream, take a nap, dance to her favorite songs, go on a late-night drive for cheeseburgers, and cuddle and kiss her girlfriend the entire day.

Sam wakes up startled, as usual. She is gasping for air and sitting up hastily. Was she having a nightmare? Is she stepping into a nightmare now? Because she can tell she’s wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts. But what if her mom sees her? Is she going to catch her? Should she start running from something, or keep herself from running toward something? 

“Sam?”

That soft voice is the one that breaks the spell.

“Deena,” Sam sighs. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” Deena whispers, tentatively wrapping her arms around her girlfriend. Instantly, she feels Sam relax in her embrace.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbles, tucking her face on the crook of Deena’s neck. “Just a nightmare.”

“I got you,” Deena says softly. She places a kiss on Sam’s forehead and carefully guides them to lay down again. “It’s early. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Deena asks, realizing right after that Sam fell asleep before answering at all.

--

A couple of hours later, Sam wakes up again. This time there are no nightmares, no screams of terror caught in her throat, no reaching out blindly for air or a weapon. She wakes up slowly, clutching the heavy blanket that covers her body, yawning without restrain, and eventually opening her eyes slowly. The first thing she does is look for her girlfriend, and she finds her sitting at the foot of the bed, sketching on a notebook with an endearing frown of concentration on her face.

“Good morning,” Sam says through a new yawn.

“Well,” Deena smirks fondly at her, “it is closer to noon now, but good morning to you too, baby.”

“What? Noon?” Sam frowns and attempts to rub the sleep off her eyes. “Since when do I sleep longer than you?” Sam asks, and puts on a pout on her lips for her next question, “And why are you so far away?”

Deena chuckles affectionately at her and puts away her pencil and notebook. She crawls back to her girlfriend and playfully flops down beside her. “Hey,” Deena greets her with her signature raspy tone. She receives a dreamy “hi” and a soft peck on the lips in response. Afterward, she explains, “To answer your question, I just thought you deserved a day to sleep in.” When Sam gives her a look of pleased surprise, Deena adds, “In fact, I think you’ve earned a full day, just for you, to rest and enjoy.”

“Deena, you don’t have to do that,” Sam attempts to protest, right before her girlfriend interrupts her with a kiss that turns into two, and three, and four, and soon enough they simply lose count.

--

Deena’s plans encounter an obstacle as soon as they manage to leave the comfort of her room to go make breakfast. Sam was fresh out of the shower, wearing one of Deena’s t-shirts this time. Deena barely gets to open the fridge before Sam tries to intervene with a soft-spoken, “Let me.” It’s safe to say that Deena puts up quite a fight, though.

“I just wanted to take care of you for one day, okay?” She insists. “You fucking deserve it.”

“That’s sweet,” Sam replies, feeling absolutely endeared. She leans in and places a kiss on Deena’s forehead, and Deena tries and fails to keep up her frown. “Listen, I appreciate it, and I love you for it, okay?” Sam says, giving Deena’s lips a small kiss. “But consider this. One, you already took care of me at my worst. Two, a perfect day, for me, means that you get to enjoy it too, and I get to take care of you too, got it? And three… do you really want to burn my breakfast on my special day?”

Sam attempted to quickly kiss Deena’s cheek and run away, but the brunette was quick enough to reach out and take her in her arms, ticking her in revenge for the not-unfounded critique of her culinary skills.

--

After their meal, the two girls make their way to the living room’s couch, where they are free to cuddle and exchange lazy kisses for as long as they could possibly want. Eventually, though, Deena finds the strength to pull away long enough to have an actual conversation.

“So, while you were sleeping, Kate and Simon stopped by,” Deena says. “Everyone feels kind of bad about you, you know, getting possessed and shit.” Deena pauses with a grimace, not proud of her choice of words, but Sam quickly kisses her cheek to urge her to go on. Deena begrudgingly stands up from the couch, to look for a certain bag, and explains, “Josh, oh so generously, gave us the gift of privacy and he is staying the fuck away from home for the day. He’s sleeping at Simon’s house. Also, he says you can play his video games, if you want. And… Kate and Simon brought all this.”

Deena drops a bag from the Grab N’ Bag on the couch and Sam eagerly looks through its contents. She gasps, “Finally!” And pulls out one of many packets of jello. 

Deena’s love-sick laugh spills right out of her lips. “You’re adorable,” Deena says before kissing the top of Sam’s head and climbing back to the couch beside her. “There’s also popcorn, chips, ice cream is in the fridge, a couple of your favorite movies that I think were yours in the first place and they’re just returning, and a happy birthday card because they don’t exactly make cards for the shit we’ve lived,” Deena explains, content to watch her girlfriend smile and nod happily while enjoying her jello. Then she clears her throat and not so contentedly adds, “We also have a bunch of uh, fresh bandages and stuff.”

The two girls exchange a look and understand exactly what this means.

--

“This is not what I had in mind when I planned to give you a perfect day,” Deena says. She is sitting on the bathroom counter without a shirt on while Sam gives the final touches to the fresh bandage on Deena’s stomach. At the beginning, her hands were shaking with guilt, and fear, but she quickly got them under control and lovingly worked on the healing wound that a different version of herself caused.

“I told you,” Sam insists without looking away from her work. “I also want to take care of you, you know?” She is standing there without her shirt on, with an equally fresh bandage on her back.

When Sam iss done, Deena gently grabs her hands and moves them up to her lips to kiss them sweetly. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Sam turns breathless at the gesture. She feels butterflies in her stomach and decides to tell Deena how much she’s enjoying her day. Speechless as she is though, Sam only thinks to lean forward and connect their lips, determined to kiss her girlfriend until they lose track of time.

--

Some time later, Sam finds herself comfortably seated on her girlfriend’s lap, wearing her sweater again, and biting her lip in great concentration as she tries to succeed at one of Josh’s video games.

“You nerd, I can’t believe you’re into this,” Deena chuckles fondly behind her.

“Hush, I almost got it,” Sam mumbled.

As much as Deena wants Sam to win whatever game that is, she thinks it would be a crime to hold herself back in a position as convenient as this one. So she moves Sam’s blonde hair out of the way and starts placing feather-light kisses on her neck. At first, Sam tries to ignore her. Then, she squirms just a little. After a very effective bite from Deena, a small whimper escapes from Sam’s lips.

“Tell me,” Deena starts saying with a seductive whisper. “Do the other cheerleaders know you’re secretly a dork?”

That finally gets Sam to stop the game and turn around with a gasp. “Deena!” she protests, although she’s laughing. And she crashes her lips together. She would hate to let Deena win so easily, but she feels much more like a winner in this situation.

--

Sometime in the afternoon, Sam wakes up on the couch with her head on Deena’s chest. She’s so perfectly comfortable and warm and safe, that she starts to feel suspicious. She didn’t even have a bad dream at all. She starts to fearfully consider this might be nothing but a dream about to turn into a nightmare, but then she moves her head up to look at her girlfriend and her worries vanish all at once. Deena is still asleep, she’s frowning a little and her lips are slightly parted as she adorably mumbles in her sleep. The feeling of love and adoration in Sam’s chest is so strong and so real that she doesn’t have any doubt this has to be her reality. 

After all the pain, the fear, and the danger of it all, this is real, and they earned it. It’s not even just about those days of extreme violence when they ended the curse, it’s even bigger than that. It’s a moment of well-earned peace and happiness that’s been more than three hundred years in the making. They have been fighting for this moment their entire lives, and they were so close to losing hope forever, but they made it. Deena was right, they fucking deserve it.

So, Sam makes a couple of decisions. First, she decides it’s best if they go one day without watching a horror movie. As much as she loves them, they have had enough horror for a while. And two, she decides that continuing her nap is the perfect way to honor Deena’s wish of giving her a perfect day. She gets comfortable again on top of her girlfriend and drifts back to sleep.

--

Not too long later, Sam and Deena are in the middle of a tube of ice cream and halfway through watching Grease. Well, Deena is watching the movie. Sam is a little more focused on the extremely amusing sight of Deena trying to avoid smiling at the movie.

“Oh my God, you love it,” Sam keeps giggling whenever Deena slips up and grins at the movie on the television screen.

“No, I fucking don’t,” Deena rolls her eyes, makes no move to quit the movie, and adds through gritted teeth, “I just acknowledge that it’s a classic.”

Her words only make Sam smile even brighter as she continues to take spoonfuls of ice cream and marvel at the sight of her girlfriend.

--

A perfect day, of course, wouldn’t be complete without listening to the mixtape Deena made for Sam, and dancing in the middle of her bedroom without a care in the world.

Sam is the one that starts dancing, swinging her arms around, not very gracefully. And Deena shakes her head at her with extreme fondness. “You are a weirdo, Sam Fraser,” she says, making her girlfriend laugh, completely unaffected by the comment.

“Dance with me,” Sam replies with a carefree grin on her face. She steps forward and pulls on Deena’s arms until she convinces her to dance with her.

As usual, Deena tries to put up a fight that she loses as soon as she stares into precious blue eyes. There’s not a thing she wouldn’t do for Sam. They already had to do the most extreme things for each other. How could she refuse her girlfriend a dance?

It’s a perfect evening to a perfect day. The two of them dance to their favorite songs, laugh wholeheartedly, kiss without holding back, jump and spin and fall in each other's arms again and again, as if falling in love all over with every new song.

--

As comfortable as it would be to stay home for the last few hours of the day, the perfect dinner to complete the day means getting cheeseburgers. Not even Deena complains about the idea. After all, she always loved driving around town with Sam in the passenger seat, humming along to the songs on her mixtape, her blonde hair glowing under the streetlights they passed, completely comfortable silence between them, without a destination in mind. 

They park the car at a familiar spot. They eat their cheeseburgers, playfully feed fries to each other, and have a perfectly good time. Conversation flows easily between them, reminiscing of old memories or sharing dreams of a bright future that starts to feel more possible than ever before.

When Sam starts yawning, Deena is quick to point out, “You’re sleepy.”

“Am not,” Sam scoffs in that very particular way that tells Deena her girlfriend is blatantly lying.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Fraser. How rude,” Deena teases her.

Sam giggles happily in response. She can’t deny she’s looking forward to returning home to Deena’s bed, but she genuinely loves to put up a fight against her girlfriend, no matter how often she ends up losing. 

“I’m very awake,” Sam insists, a knowing look on her face because she can easily predict Deena’s answer.

“Prove it,” Deena says.

Even before she’s done saying the words, Sam is leaning in to kiss her. They kiss, again and again, until Sam whispers against Deena’s lips, “Take me home.”

--

It’s well past midnight when Sam and Deena finally agree that even perfect days must come to an end. They lie in Deena’s bed, facing each other, legs tangled together, often exchanging kisses or sweet words that only exist in that vulnerable space between them.

“Thank you,” Sam whispers. She pushes a stray brown curl behind Deena’s ear, then her hand rests for a moment there on Deena’s cheek, her thumb lovingly caressing her skin.

“I told you,” Deena replies in an equally hushed tone even though they have the entire house for themselves. “You deserve it,” she adds, then she turns her head just enough to place a small kiss to the inside of Sam’s wrist, making the blonde smile timidly.

“I’m not talking about today,” Sam says. She considers explaining that she means she’s saying thank you for absolutely every moment they spent together since they met, but…

“I know,” Deena says. Her smile widens and she adds, “Just so you know, I also enjoyed today, a lot. So thank you too.”

Sam replies with a sweet kiss to Deena’s lips. Then the two of them cuddle closer and slowly, peacefully, happily drift off to a good and restful night of sleep.

[lubdubsworld]

Make you mine.

One Shot.

!8 +

Hoseok x OC

Angst , fluff 

OC is a popular solo idol  in love with street dancer Jung Hoseok. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“One date. Come on...let me take you out for coffee. Once, just once?” I sounded like a broken record at this point , hands gripping his arm as he leaned against the table, writing out something about positions on his notebook. 

Jung Hoseok, impatient as always, gave me a shove, causing me to trip and land on my butt.

“Ow.” I muttered glaring at him. He stared down at me, unimpressed. 

“I told you not to come in here when I’m working. No. I won’t get coffee with you. Now go climb into that million dollar car of yours and get the fuck away from me.” He said sharply and i flinched at the coldness in his tone. 

I swallowed. Grinning wide, i ignored the sharp sting of his rejection. i could process the hurt later. For now, i had to change tactics. Lifting myself up, I rubbed my tailbone , moving closer and trying to peer into his notebook. 

“Okay...no coffee..” I smiled, touching his arm gently and pulling back again when he glared pointedly at me., “ That’s fine . What’s your plan when this ends? I don’t have anything on my schedule for the next two hours. We could just hang out? Talk about stuff? Your sister told me you’ve been working on a mixtape recently? I’d love to listen ....”

Hoseok groaned.

“Leah, go get your fucking hair done or buy out the latest Gucci collection or whatever it is that you rich snobby bitches do in your free time. Stop hounding me... we have  nothing  in common? Why on earth would i want to hang out with you?” He snapped. 

I shrugged.

“Because of my rocking hot bod and angelic voice? Because I happen to be the nation’s sweetheart? Because i got voted, “most likely to offer you her umbrella in a thunderstorm “ last week? I’m kind and beautiful and sexy. I can cook you your favorite dishes  and  suck your dick under the table while you’re eating it? “ 

One of his students, who just happened to be drinking water a couple of feet away from us, spat it all back out, wheezing as he gave me a look of horror. 

I gave him a sweet smile and a wave. He blushed red and smiled wide at that and my smile faltered. \

 I was sick of the adoration, sick of the applause, the praise , the compliments and the flattery. Sick of the stage itself and I couldn’t wait for my contract to end this year. I wanted to get back to songwriting and singing in my studio. Releasing vocal tracks only. No more make up or pastel dresses or bunny years. No more aegyo in fansigns , no more pretending to get scared by fucking confetti on the stage. No more giggling when a guy looks at me. No more shying away from anything even remotely adult because i was delicate. 

I was drawn out of my thoughts by Hoseok clearing his throat. 

“So you’re not leaving?” He tilted his head in question.

“I love you.” I said simply. 

Hoseok sighed, reaching out and gripping my elbow hard. He yanked me close, till I was right in front of him and I licked my lips, shamelessly staring at the plump redness of his lips. He gripped me harder at that, fingers digging into the tender flesh of my arm and I gasped.

My entire body sang at the contact and it was impossible to explain how it made me feel. Hoseok looked angry. He was angry. But I didn’t particularly care. Not when he was touching me like this.

I stared at his face, his beautiful fucking face with the sharp angular features, his dreamy body ,broad shoulders and lean waist,  those mile long legs and those thick thighs. 

I wanted something raw and real and heady and strong and there was nothing more breathtaking than the man in front of me. A  real  man. The kind of man you wouldn’t mind getting on your knees for, even in public. the kind of man who makes your breath catch in your lung. Makes your lips part and your thighs wet.

 He smiled. 

“You don’t know what the fuck love is, you little--- ” He shook his head , swallowing the insult and I bit my lips, making to move closer but his grip tightened holding me away from his body. Pain began shooting up y arm but I ignored it. 

“Then show me...I want you.  “ I said softly.

“I’m not a sextoy you can buy because you saw me in a catalogue. if you’re horny go fuck one of your cotton candy haired oppas. ” his free hand shot up, gripping my jaw . 

I wanted to scream . 

“That’s not what this is.” I choked a little when his thumb slipped down to my neck and squeezed . I kept my eyes trained on him, refusing to back away. I’d done a lot of that in the early months. But after nine months, this crush or whatever sure wasn’t going away. and i wasn’t even going to try denying how badly I wanted him. 

“What is it then? Because right now all I’m seeing is a desperate little slut, so eager for attention she’s willing to beg for my di-”

“Hob-ah...let her go.” Min Yoongi’s calm voice rang out from behind us and hoseok smirked. He stepped away and I knew he’d bruised my chin and my arm. But I resisted the urge to rub against the skin. 

“One date.” I whispered. “Please.”

He smiled , his face softening .

“Never in a million years. Get the fuck out of here before I call security.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi watched Hoseok go through the routine one more time, flat on his back, head cradled in his arms . 

“Why do you keep refusing that girl?” He called out . 

Hoseok didn’t stop dancing.

“Cos I don’t like her.” he grunted, hips rolling in tune to the music, sweat dripping down his neck. 

Yoongi scoffed.

“You do know I’ve seen your search history right? For someone who doesn’t like her you sure spend way too many of your waking hours watching her fancams. ‘ 

That made Hoseok pause.

“Whatever hyung, she’s just joking around. “ 

“For nine whole months? i think she means business.”

“What business? Fuck me once and leave... not into that.” 

“ Or maybe she wants to get to know you...”

“What’ there to know hyung... nothing that would interest someone like her, for sure. She probably spends more many a day than i make in a month. I’m nowhere near her level.”

Yoongi sighed. 

Hoseok’s mind seemed to be made up. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When i first heard that they wanted me to debut Solo, I’d been so flattered. Debuting solo meant I would have no one else to please or get along with. i could do my own thing and just the fact that they trusted me enough for that made me feel on top of the world. 

But as time went by , I realized that all it meant was I would be saddled with bone-crushing loneliness.

Alone in the waiting rooms.

Alone on the stage. 

Alone while the other female artists crowded together. 

It was lonely on the top and I had to smile and laugh through it all. 

But the loneliness was most pronounced when I was stuck without a friend. A girl i could confide in and trust . 

When everything is silent and quiet,  that is when the loneliness inside you screamed the loudest. 

I sat with my knees drawn up , leaning against the wall  and staring out of the bay windows, watching the rain pound the glass.

And in the vast emptiness of my apartment, it was always silent and quiet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright , that’s it!!!” Hoseok grabbed my arm, hauling me straight off the small stool i was sitting on and I yelped, surprised.

“Hoseok-”

“Get the fuck out of here. I know for a fact that you’re only looking for someone to play around with and I’m not going to be the poor pathetic sod who get caught on camera with you only to get hated on and cancelled and whatever the fuck else your cult does..... I want you out of my life.!!” He shouted and I dug my heels into the ground, yanking my arm away from him.

“I don’t fucking care about any of that. My contract ends in two months ...I’m not going to sign back on with my damned company!! They can’t control who i see and neither can my fans!!” 

“You’re going to quit your company...? the biggest label in the country? You expect me to believe that?!” He scoffed.

“It’s true! I’ve had enough of being on the stage. I don’t enjoy it anymore ! All its done is “  left me sad and alone and without a single friend. 

‘”Paid for all your ridiculously expensive lifestyle?” He sneered.

I sighed.

“You’re obsessed with my money Hoseok. I’ve never flaunted it in front of you. I’d be happy eating dukkbeokkie from a street stall with you. I don’t care about money or my company.” 

“Really? you don’t care about your company?” he shook his head in disbelief . 

“I don’t.” i insisted. 

“then how about this. I’ll be done with the day at nine o clock tonight. Meet me at the dance studio at ten. Come alone. just you. And not in that flashy car of yours. Take a fucking cab. Don’t bring your fucking bodyguard or your manager. Don’t even tell them where you’re going. If you can do that, I’ll believe you.” He said softly. 

I swallowed. 

“I...that’s... that’s dangerous.”

He scoffed.

“Thought so. Your money and your label is a part of you. And they’re things i can’t stand. So just stop-”

“Okay!” I blurted out, heart pounding. 

Hoseok stopped talking, staring at me with a frown. 

“What?” 

“Okay.. i’ll... I’ll take a cab from my apartment.... I’ll come meet you at the studio. “ I whispered. 

“Don’t be a fucking idiot.” He said harshly.

I felt my anger rise. 

“You asked me whether I can put aside my money and label.... I can! I fucking can!” 

“Just leave Leah! ” He turned on his heel.

“I’m going to be there!! At ten , tonight. And if I show up and you don’t, let’s just admit that you’re a fucking coward, Jung Hoseok!!!” I screamed at him.

He didn’t even look back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The studio is deserted. 

Of course it is. 

Feeling a little bit like a fool, I wrap my arms around myself, sinking into the shadows as I walk up and down the hallways. Its still just a little past ten. I could wait a while. Just in case he changed his mind. 

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. 

I swallowed, the darkness seeming to close in on me. 

Footsteps made my ears perk up but then anxiety spiked when i heard unfamiliar voices.

“....she fucking pants after him like a bitch in heat and the bastard is too much of a pussy to take her up on the offer.” One of them says .

“I know. Holier than thou Hoseok. Fucking prick. Like if you don’t want that a grade cunt, why not just pass it on to one of us huh?”

“....fuck ...just wanna run into her in some dark alley. I’ll stuff my fingers in her whore mouth and give it to her nice and hard , like she obviously wants. “ 

Nausea rising, I stumbled to my feet and made to move away but they had already turned the corner, both of them stopping at the sight of me. 

I felt my heart leap up into throat... stark terror blooming inside me. I opened my mouth to scream but my voice wouldn’t come , I was too petrified to even breath. 

I turned on my heel, adrenaline making me run really hard.

I’d barely moved a few inches when i crashed into a very familiar chest.

Strong arms wrapped around me, drawing me into his warmth and i heard Hoseok’s voice growl from above me. 

“You’re fired. “ His voice trembled with rage. “ You have five minutes to get the fuck out of here.” 

Both of them stood frozen.

“Hyungnim...we’re...”

“If you leave right now you’ll be walking out. If not you’re gonna be needing a fucking ambulance , Jaehyun.” 

The sound of them scarpering away made me relax, exhaling in sweet blessed relief as I sagged into his arms. The cry that I couldn’t vocalize earlier came back with a vengeance and i choked, pushing away from him. 

“I... I’m... i need to go.” I sobbed out, my nerves completely frayed as I stumbled a little. Hoseok’s hands reached out gripping my waist when i lost my balance and I flinched trying to pull away.

“Leah...wait. Leah...” He said , sounding upset and i felt like a stupid, pathetic fool. 

“They were right. You’re.... you don’t want me. That’s not your fault...I’m such a... “ The tears threatened but i refused to cry in front of him. That’s what my big, expensive apartment was for.

“Leah...no. Its not fucking true...Fucking look at me, Damn it” He grabbed my shoulders shaking me and i was forced to stare at his face. 

“I like you.” He gritted out. “ Fuck I may even be a little bit in love with you and I feel like the worst kind of bastard, making you come here tonight..alone but i swear I didn’t think you would turn up... It was so fucking reckless baby.... You could’ve gotten hurt, why would you come here....”

“you like me?” I whispered, stunned. 

He stopped , sighing.

“Yes... I do.. Always have. i just... I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea what with who you are and....You deserve someone who can spoil you and I’m far from being made of gold....” 

I cut him off with a kiss, throwing my arms around his neck and pressing my lips against his. 

He laughed and kissed me back, lips soft and gentle against mine. 

“It’s a good idea. “ I whispered, nodding my head. 

He hummed, rubbing his nose against mine, gripping my thighs and hauling me up into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, clinging to him. 

“We have a lot to talk about.” He said softly. 

“We do.” i agreed.

His lips pressed against mine again. 

“But than can wait?” He asked softly.

“Yes it can.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

author’s note : just a snipper for that prompt i wrote earlier :D I’ll probably make one more part of this later :D