#i was only going to mention emma but then the names just came to me the mans deeply traumatized and grieving everyones hes ever known

[cthulhum]

dean thinks about his daughter emma, charlie, kevin, ellen, jo, pamela, benny, kelly ALL the fucking time guys no one understands actually hes constantly thinking about Them

[chiaraswritings]

Hello can I ask a work from you? :) Maybe Batmom pranks Bruce and the boys (plus steph and cassie) where she goes in labor. By like just putting water on the floor. It’s super chaotic and they all end up slipping on it. She doesn’t tell them it’s a prank until their halfway to the hospital and it’s just super chaotic and funny. Tysm!

Batprank

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Pregnancy, water breaking, pranking, mentions of sexual intercourse, romantic scenes between a married couple. This is not suitable for younger readers. 18+.

Word Count: 2.5K words

Summary: Batmom!reader decides to try out a prank that she found on social media.

Author's Note: Great story idea, anon. Posting this ten minutes before leaving for work, I'm not even dressed yet. So if there are typos or mistakes I'll come back later and edit them out. Don't have bad time management, kids. I hope everyone reading is safe and well, and I hope you all enjoy.

Part Two

Sunday afternoons could only be described one way in this household. Long and lazy, sometimes excruciatingly so. I was scrolling on my favorite social media app again, watching short videos. If Bruce were laying with me, he'd say I was doom scrolling. He often discouraged the kids and I from this practice of scrolling through short videos for hours on end, but there was hardly anything else to do on an afternoon like this. 

I cradled my swollen stomach, one hand resting over my navel, the other propping my phone on the bed. Inside my womb, I could feel flutters of movement, vibrations moving through my stomach. Pausing the video I was watching, I looked down at my stomach. The baby I was carrying had woken and was pushing against the front of my tummy. "Ouch. I know you're just stretching, but you have to wait to come out, little one." I returned my attention to the video of directions on how to fold towels to look like birds. 

My thumb swiped mindlessly over the screen for several more minutes. My brain wasn't really processing anything of what I was seeing. I was mainly focused on the baby's movements, feeling her stretch and kick, thinking about the cradle that Dick and Jason had put together for their little sister several weeks before and how it would soon have a newborn in it. Thinking about the songs I was going to sing to her at night. Thinking about seeing Bruce hold her for the first time. 

After about ten recommended videos that didn't interest me, I got ready to close the app. I might as well do something more useful with my time. As I swiped to view one last video, the picture of a pregnant woman caught my eye. I watched with interest as she emptied a bottle of water onto the floor next to a flight of stairs, before keeling over clutching her stomach and calling a man's name, along with the news that her water had broken. Much to my amusement, her partner came rushing down the stairs, slipping on the water and sliding across the floor on his backside. I couldn't help but chuckle. It was a good prank, though probably staged, as most pranks on this app tend to be at some level. Would this actually work? I wondered to myself. I closed the app on my phone before pressing the power button to darken the screen. Standing up wasn't my favorite, but I wanted to go see what my husband was up to.

I moved down the stairs cautiously, using the handrail. Falling could damage the organs that kept the baby safe, which is why Bruce had suggested moving to a bedroom on the first floor until she arrived. We hadn't done that yet, but it wasn't the worst idea. Anything to keep little Ava safe. Or Emma. Or something. Over the last seven months, Bruce and I had both been advocating for our own choice of name for the baby. Not that it would matter once we were finally able to hold her in our arms. 

Once I had descended down the first flight of stairs, I happened to look back at the steps behind me. It reminded me of the short video I had watched a couple minutes before. I wondered again if the prank actually worked, or if it was staged. What the family's reactions would be if I pulled that sort-of-cruel prank on them. Chuckling at the thought, I started moving towards the entrance to the Batcave.

I followed the stairs down to the dark, cold cave that I had learned to love. After all, this was home to my husband's greatest passion, and I would never try to get in between him and what made him feel fulfilled. I smiled upon seeing my dearest at the Batcomputer. Bruce was fixated on the screen, hardly noticing when I ran my hands over his shoulders from behind, my arms wrapping around his neck. "Hi there."

He looked up, not startled, but he hadn't expected my presence. "You're supposed to be resting."

I pressed a kiss to his bristly cheek. "I got tired of resting."

He turned the chair to face me. His large hands ran over my stomach, trying to feel the movement of his child, but she had already gone back to sleep, it seemed. "Can you wake her up so I can feel her?"

I looked down at him, laughing. "How exactly do you propose I do that?" 

He glared at me, but I could see the smile in his eyes. "I don't know how you do that, I've never been pregnant before."

Chuckling, I pecked his lips. "I'd want to know if you had been." Turning my attention to the screen, I noticed the faces of several inmates that had escaped the nearby asylum recently. "Getting anywhere on the case?" 

Bruce stood before turning me so my back was to the computer before kissing my lips sweetly. "You're not allowed to think about anything stressful right now, do you understand?"

I chuckled, looking up into his pretty blue eyes. "My poor baby, are you stressed?"

"Maybe. Lots of things going on at the moment." My husband knelt in front of me, pressing gentle kisses to my stomach. "Thinking about the case, the pregnancy, the company, the kids, all of it all at once."

My fingers ran through his uncombed hair. "Don't worry, the baby will be here soon, and you can scratch pregnancy off your worry list."

His eyes met mine again as he gently kissed my stomach. "I'll have a baby to worry about then. You'll tell me right away when your water breaks, won't you?" 

Smiling, I took his face in my hands. "You'll be the first to know. After Ava and I, of course." 

Bruce's eyes narrowed playfully, and he stood up once again. "You mean Emma?"

I chuckled and pulled him down slightly to brush my nose against his, our lips not quite meeting. "I mean Ava." 

"You mean Emma," Bruce grinned, kissing me passionately, stroking my stomach with his thumbs. A giggle escaped my throat, but I didn't break the kiss. He moved his hands to my hips, his caresses moving to my sides. 

"I thought you guys promised not to have sex in the cave anymore?" Stephanie's voice cut through our kiss, causing me to jump and Bruce to turn his head to glare at her. 

"We are not having sex, though we still can at eight months," Bruce gave me a side glance. 

I returned the glance. "You try having sex with a nearly full-grown baby in your tummy. Give it a try, let's see how you like it."

"Fair enough," he muttered before pecking my lips. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes as she passed us. "Disgusting, don't talk about it in the cave anymore either."

I chuckled, giving the girl's shoulder a squeeze and my husband's cheek a kiss. "I'm heading back upstairs, sex talk averted." 

Feeling Bruce grab my hand, I turned my head back towards him. "You will tell me when you go into labor?"

Reassuringly squeezing his hand, I smiled. "I promise I will. But I'm pretty sure we have some time before that happens." 

I made my way up the stairs, leaving Bruce to grump about our moment being interrupted. When I reached the landing, I was greeted by Alfred, who offered me a tall glass of water. "You'll remember what the doctor said about water consumption, madam," he held it out to me, and I almost reluctantly accepted it. 

"I do remember, but I don't think I can consume much else after that wonderful lunch you prepared for us, Alfred." 

"Flattery gets you nowhere, miss. Drink it all." He stood there so expectantly, his gaze piercing me like a sharp knife. Hesitantly, I sipped from the glass. My words had been the honest truth, I was still full from lunch. At least finishing a small amount got Alfred to turn and head back towards the kitchen. 

I looked at the glass in my hand that was still nearly full. Finishing it completely would be too impossible a feat at the moment, but I didn't feel like pouring it down the drain. I thought once again of that short video, of the woman with her own bottle of water, and suddenly, I knew exactly what to do with the remaining water. 

...

I had successfully emptied the glass of water onto the floor, a puddle beneath my feet. I made sure to splash some on my clothes before stuffing the glass inside an indoor potted bush. Someone would find it later, I was sure. The prank had been set perfectly next to the staircase on the marble flooring. Observing the scene, I grinned. If this actually were to work... 

"Damian, go tell your father that my water broke!" I yelled up the stairs for the person I knew to be in his room. 

I saw his head pop around the corner, observing with narrowed eyes, already suspicious. He was always suspicious. But my staged scene was convincing enough. Holding back mirth, I watched as his eyes widened and he made four bounds down the thirty stairs before disappearing into the Batcave's entrance.

Before I could get my laughter out of my system, Bruce, Stephanie, Damian, and Tim were tripping over each other in their haste to be by my side. I clutched my stomach and groaned in mock agony.

"Mom!" I watched with amusement as Tim rushed to my side before falling victim to the puddle of water and slipping, falling and sliding across the floor on his backside. Stephanie, ignoring Tim's accident, was the first to arrive at my side, her enthusiasm clear.

"Is Emma coming?!" She put her hand on my stomach, trying to feel the movement of the baby. I couldn't help but chuckle slightly while acting like I was in pain. 

"You mean Ava is coming!" Bruce was about to scoop me into his arms, but instead, slipped in the puddle and landed next to Tim on the marble floor. I ignored my husband's groaning and decided to fight for the victory, while still clutching my stomach. 

"Ava? You really mean it?"

"Yes!" Bruce hastily picked himself up, but I could see his bruised ego underneath his concern and panic. Before I could ensure that my battle for my daughter's name was won, I was picked up and nearly dropped again as Bruce clumsily fought with the closet door that stored the delivery bag we had packed a month or two before. "Timothy, get the bag out of the closet!"

I covered my mouth to keep my laughter inside. Tim had been watching the scene with interest from the floor, but he snapped to attention to retrieve the bag. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jason rounding the corner, looking like he had just woken from a long slumber. 

"Wha's goin on?" His sleepy eyes weren't registering the display before him. 

"Your mother is about to give birth in our hallway!" My poor husband growled before marching with me to the entryway of the mansion. 

"Oh, congratu... huh?" Jason blinked at me. 

"Alfred! Where's the damn car!" Bruce was sweating at this point, but I was thoroughly amused. This prank actually worked.

"In the garage, sir, would you like me to fetch it for you?" Alfred, the only calm soul in the vicinity, called from the kitchen. 

"Yes! Right now!" 

Seconds later, I was being half carried, half hauled out the front door. A small crowd of our family members had gathered, trying to be as helpful as they could, but in reality it was simply Cassandra and Stephanie badgering Bruce with questions about when they could come see the baby, Tim slipping once again in the puddle, and Jason trying to get through to Dick's cell phone. It was when I was stuck in the back seat of the car like a bag full of golf clubs that I decided it was time to come clean. "Guys, I'm just kid-" 

I was cut off when Damian slid into the seat next to me with his beloved sword drawn. "Come on, Pennyworth, drive!" His words were intensified as he waved the sword in the air. 

"Damian, no, it was just a-"

"Damian, you put that away this instant!" Bruce cut me off once again. "You'll kill your sister before she's even born!" I could see Alfred giving us a side eye from the driver's seat.

"Bruce, Bruce, my water didn't even-" 

"Don't worry, one of the kids will clean it up, let's go!" He pushed Damian out of the seat and took his place before slamming the car door shut. 

Alfred glanced at us from the rearview mirror. "Yes sir, is the madam comfortable?"

"No I'm not comfortable!" I grabbed Bruce's hand, trying to get his focus as the car pulled out of the gates.  I noticed that the car was turning the opposite direction of the hospital. "Darling, I was-"

"I know it hurts, just hang on," he pressed a kiss to my cheek before proceeding to dial Dick's number on his cell phone. "Why isn't he picking up?!"

"It was a prank!" Laughing, I grabbed his face in my hands, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Darling, darling, I was just kidding. It was a prank." 

His eyes were blank for a moment before the realization hit. "Are you ser... (Y/N)!" 

Chuckling, I pressed my lips to his forehead. "She's not coming yet, I just wanted to see if you'd fall for it."

"But of course I would... did... fall for it..." He grabbed my hand in mine before sighing and kissing the back of it. "Alfred, she pranked us."

"Yes, sir, she certainly did." I could see the butler's half amused glare from the mirror before the car came to a stop at a red light.

My husband pressed a kiss to my lips before giving me an unamused look. "We're naming her Emma, you've lost your naming rights."

I burst into laughter, returning the glare. "I am her mother, I have naming rights!"

He chuckled, shaking his head at me. "Not after that stunt. Don't you agree, Alfred?"

Alfred didn't respond to the question, but instead nodded at the shopping center next to the stoplight. "How convenient, we happen to be right next to the madam's favorite restaurant, shall we make a stop?"

"Yes, that's perfect." Bruce pressed a kiss to my cheek as the car pulled into the parking lot. "I'll get your usual and we can bring it home?" 

"Perfect indeed," I chuckled, still in shock that my prank had worked so well. I rested my hand on my stomach while my husband stepped out of the car. Watching him disappear into the doors of the restaurant, I looked over at Alfred. "This restaurant is nowhere near the hospital." 

"I do know that, madam." 

"And we were supposed to be going to the hospital." 

"Were we?"

"You knew?" 

Alfred turned in the driver's seat, holding up the empty water glass I had stored in the bush just minutes before, giving me a displeased glance. "I'd bury it a bit deeper next time, Miss (Y/N)." 

Part Two

[kainuhsblog]

Mr. Choi from 2A • Jiung Choi

prompt         More Than Words Elementary gets the surprise of a lifetime when the kids figure out that the two kindest teachers for 4th and 5th grade are married. pairing          teacher!jiung x fem!reader genre           school teachers, established relationship, fluff warnings      mentions of food, playful banter, school word count    3,796 (this story wrote itself) a/n                 hi! i'm back! I have something written this time! jiung is my ultimate bias, so i’ve been itching to write something for him. please note that this fic will be told in 3rd pov, but kind of centric to none of the main characters, but to one of jiung’s students, emma! 

want more piwon posts from me? check out my fake texts here and here!

There are many things in the world that Emma loves. Her parents, for one –  obviously. They spoil her endlessly, and even gave her a little brother, so she loves them. 

Emma also loves trucks. She loves them simply because her dad always lifts her up to get in the thing. He even has to do a little stretch to get in himself.  Big trucks that make even her dad seem small are always fun. 

Third on the list – not that it has a particular order – will have to go to the bakery near her house. Ms. Lim makes the best cupcakes known to man, and her mom loves them just as much as she does, so they like to splurge on them every once in a while. 

Fourth; the quaint burger place lodged in an alleyway on that busy street Emma always forgets the name of. Every once in a while, her mom and dad take her (and her little brother, now) to the place, and she always manages to see her uncle manning the bar. She wonders if he works there. 

And last, but certainly not least; her 4th grade teacher Mr. Choi. Mr. Choi never enters the room without a fond smile on his face as he greets the class in the morning. He never lets them leave without some words of praise when they leave the class in the afternoon. 

Mr. Choi is very attentive, explaining things a million times over for everyone to understand (who knew there were different methods to learning how to multiply big numbers?) and is very interactive with his class. Mr. Choi is probably the kindest person Emma knows. 

If someone were to come up to her and shove a microphone and a camera in her face (because people do that now) and ask her who she thought the kindest person in the world was, her first answer would definitely be Mr. Choi. That’s just how good he is. 

Anyways, before the author starts her spiel on the guy, let’s get into the actual story – shall we?

The list of things that Emma loves in this world differ depending on what day you ask her. Her constants will always be her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, and Mr. Choi from class 2A. 

Lately though, Emma thinks that a new constant might add to her list of things she loves in this world. The thought came to her mind halfway through the previous semester. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

At the beginning of her first semester in fourth grade, a new teacher for fifth grade arrived in bubbly fashion. With beautiful kind eyes and a charming smile; the new teacher tumbled her way into the lives of everyone at More Than Words Elementary School. 

Emma was one of the people who only entertained things within her bubble. As a bubble dweller, the only things she knew dwelled in her bubble with her. She didn’t know anything about new staff or teachers unless someone entered her bubble to tell her. Which is how she found out about the new teacher in the first place. 

She had many friends within the school who greeted her in the mornings, and her cousin Shelby was friends with her next door neighbor Tommy. Those two always brought her the gossip from their fifth grade circle. 

They were all hanging out on the playground for recess when Shelby mentioned it to Emma. Something along the lines of the nicest teacher ever just came to their school or something. Emma excused Shelby’s comments because the elder didn’t have Mr. Choi in fourth grade. 

Tommy described the woman like she hung the stars in the sky every single night for him to look at and ponder her. Shelby told him to write a book if he wanted to be that sappy. Emma laughed even if she didn’t get the reference all too well. 

For the rest of that week, the new teacher was all her fifth grade friends seemed to want to talk about. She stopped listening to them halfway through. Mr. Choi was the nicest teacher ever, so she wanted to see his competition with her own two eyes. 

If someone was listening to her thoughts, then they made quick plans, because the next day called for a multitude of rain and the absence of half of the students in her small school. Emma still went to school because her mom and dad had jobs to go to despite the rain, and her grandma was out of the country so no one her parents trusted could watch their kids. 

She walked happily to her class, thinking of the pastries she would smell in the afternoon (as it was the day her and her mom went to the bakery) when she spotted a beautiful woman standing outside her class door talking to Mr. Choi. Her smile stretched like the sun on the horizon as it rose in the morning. A warmth like no other had hit Emma the moment she saw it. 

Emma slowed her pace as she neared the classroom, and she heard the familiar words of reassurance from her teacher to the lady in front of him to ease her worries about whatever she stressed about. The kind words sounded a bit different in Emma’s ears though. 

Emma greeted the adults like she was taught, and both Mr. Choi and the teacher greeted her with similar waves of kindness. The other teacher even knew her name. Why would the other teacher know her name?

Emma tilted her head in confusion and stood before the two teachers. The lady laughed and nudged Mr. Choi to get him to notice. Then, the teacher moved her left hand from the books she clung so tightly to her chest and extended it to the little girl before her. 

“Hi Emma Kang, I’m the new fifth grade teacher Ms. (last name). It’s very nice to meet you!” The teacher introduced, and the shock couldn’t come fast enough as it morphed Emma’s face. 

The lady before her was the kind teacher Shelby and Tommy told her about. Emma shook Ms. (last name)’s hand, feeling the familiar weight of an engagement band (her aunt Nina had just gotten engaged last month, so she knows how it feels on someone’s hand), and told the teacher that it was nice to meet her as well. 

Turns out, Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were discussing the merge of their classrooms for the day so that they can watch movies and play games. None of the other fifth grade teachers wanted to do such things with their classes, (as it was still the beginning of the semester) but Mr. Choi thought it would be fun to let his kids relax for one day. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Rainy days had now meant joint classes after the success of the first one that day, and Emma realized that she hoped for rainy days a lot more, so that she can see Ms. (last name) again and again and again. This was when she thought of the possibility of a new constant on her list. 

Emma thinks that Ms. (last name) felt like the sun, especially when she brightened up the classrooms. Ms. (last name) was extra involved in just about everything, and Emma found herself wanting to join a few things just to see the bubbly teacher again. 

Now, you (as the reader) might be wondering where I’ll fit the synopsis into this story, and I’m getting there. Anyways, back to the story. 

Emma also notices how much livelier Mr. Choi seemed to get whenever Ms. (last name) would come around their area, for rainy days or not. The two teachers seemed really close, like they were friends before working together. Well, that’s how Emma saw it. Shelby and Tommy seemed to disagree though. 

The two fifth graders often talked about how they coax small bits of information out of their homeroom teacher whenever they all can’t seem to understand a particularly hard subject (which is usually math.) Ms. (last name) never got into great detail about a lot of stuff, but she always talked about her fiance with a sense of “love” and “comfort”. 

Emma knew about those feelings and those words, (she’s 9 for crying out loud) but no one ever seemed to explain the concept of love to her in a way where she understood or related to it, so topics like these had her confused.  When she asked what that had to do with anything, Shelby exclaimed that she had a feeling that Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. 

Emma sat there for a long while trying to see things from her cousin’s point of view. Sure, they were friendly and got along well, but a couple? They didn’t seem like a couple. She’s seen a few couples in her nine years on this earth, and her teachers don’t act as gross as those couples. 

Besides, they both arrive in separate cars. From the couples Emma has seen, they usually arrive in the same car, do they not? Her mom and dad are almost always in the same vehicle. Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam never leave without each other at events. Uncle Darren and Aunt Lily only have one car. They drop Shelby to school in it everyday. 

Tommy and Shelby bickered back and forth whilst Emma was left with the most confusing theory of her life. 

Emma decided that day that there was no way Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) were a couple. Well, that was until dinnertime, when she decided to ask the one couple she constantly has to see. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“Mom, dad, can people be a couple even if they don’t hug and hold hands and kiss and arrive at places in the same car?” She asked them once her food was graced and her mom told her to dig in. 

Both of her parents stopped their utensils from reaching their mouths to look at their daughter, seeing her staring back at them with a curious glint in her eyes. 

“Sweetie, I think we’re gonna need more context than that.” Her mom answered. 

“Your mom’s right, princess. What brought this on so suddenly?” Her dad added on. 

“Well, you guys know my favorite teacher Mr. Choi right?” She started off, watching her parents put down their eating utensils to give her their undivided attention. 

“Yes we do, what about him?” Her dad asked. 

“And you guys know the pretty teacher I told you about a while ago? Ms. (last name)?” She inquired. 

“Yes we do sweetheart.” Her mom answered, picking up her son’s spoon to help him eat his rice. 

“Okay, so today at recess I mentioned to Shelby and Tommy how I thought the teachers were friends before working together because of how well they seem to just – what’s the word I’m looking for?” 

“Coexist?” 

“No not that one … although that one is really good, thanks mom.” 

“Of course!” 

“Cooperate then?” Her dad chimed in, finally picking his utensil up. 

“Oh yes that word! Thank you dad, you’re so smart! Anyways, yes I mentioned it to them, and then Shelby said something about how she thinks they’re a couple? So then I sat there to think about it and that doesn’t make sense? How are they a couple when they don’t kiss and hug and hold hands and go everywhere together and use the same car and have kids?” Emma rambled, getting more confused than ever as she’s explaining it to her parents. 

“Maybe they don’t act that way because kids are present, princess.” Her dad supplied. 

“Dad, you and mom were literally kissing in the kitchen … with me present!” Emma rebutted. 

“That’s because you’re our kid. There’s a difference when it’s your own kid,” Her mom informed. 

“And besides, they work together don’t they? Why act like a couple at work? That’s not very professional.” Her mom continued. 

“You can’t do stuff like that at work?” Emma asked incredulously. 

“No you can’t Emma.” Her dad replied. 

“Wow, you learn something new everyday. What about the car thing then, they’re married and don’t come to work together? That’s so odd. You guys ride to work together all the time.” Emma questioned. 

“Emma first of all, not all couples are married,” Her mom told her, ignoring the gasp of disbelief that escapes her nine year old. 

“Secondly, they probably don’t even live together. Of course they’ll come to work in different cars.” Her mom continued. 

Emma’s shocked beyond words, her brother Eric wasn't paying attention, just eating his food and replaying the opening for power rangers in his mind as he ignored them. Her dad’s just thinking about how all of this could’ve been avoided if they just gave her electronics and discovered the weird stuff on the internet in the first place. He pushed the thought from his mind though, his wife said no so he sticks beside her. 

“Wait, so you’re telling me that couples aren’t married and don’t live together and can’t act gross and work?” Emma asked. 

“Your Aunt Nina and her fiance Sam aren’t married, and they’re a couple.” Her dad answered. 

“They’re practically married.” Emma replied.

“Wait, but do you guys think they’re a couple? An unmarried one who doesn't live together?” Emma followed up. 

She saw her mom and dad rack their brains to see if they remembered anything out of the ordinary between the fourth and fifth grade teachers that night. And then she heard them agree with her crazy claim. 

The next day, when she took Shelby’s side in the argument, their conversations shifted forever. The three friends had made it their new mission to find out if their teachers were really together. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

In between that time, the semester had ended, and the long awaited break had begun. Her mom and dad finally sat her down and told her about the different types of couples and all that jazz. They also took her to see her grandparents, where she stayed with all of her cousins for two weeks. 

Emma, Shelby and Tommy met regularly to talk about their random findings, even during their break. Nothing was bigger than the time Emma saw them both at Ms. Lim’s bakery though. The two teachers didn’t notice her, and she didn’t try to get noticed as she saw them share a slice of cheesecake and basically smiled at each other for five minutes. 

Through it all though, the mission seemed to be leading them practically nowhere. The new semester started with Shelby and Tommy telling Emma how Ms. (last name) came back with a new ring on her finger, signifying that she finally got married. 

Tommy told her to check Mr. Choi’s hands to see if he had a ring on as well to confirm their suspicions. Mr. Choi always had rings on his fingers though, so that plan was fruitless. 

For days on end, Emma tried to figure out if there was a new ring on Mr. Choi’s finger, and for days on end it seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Just as Emma was about to give up though, the answers to their questions fell right into her lap. 

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

It was a rainy Thursday, and like all rainy days, Emma gets dropped off to school earlier than usual. Emma told her parents goodbye at the entrance of the school, watching her dad’s truck drive off with her mom waving at her wildly from the window. 

Emma began to turn around to head inside before hearing the familiar purr of her teacher’s SUV pulling into the parking lot. She then stopped fully once she saw her teacher help Ms. (last name) out of the car?!?!!?!?! 

Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) just came out of the same car. Mr. Choi is helping Ms. (last name) with her bags. Mr. Choi – OH MY GOODNESS DID MR. CHOI JUST KISS MS. (LAST NAME)’S FOREHEAD? were the thoughts that ran through Emma’s mind once she saw what transpired. 

Emma wanted to stand there and rack her brain to find the sense in all of what had happened, but the teachers were both coming towards the entrance? Oh my goodness, Emma Kang. Go and run into a hole right now. 

Emma picked up her pace and starts to walk away, but the warm tilt of a harmonious tone traveled to her ears as Ms. (last name) greeted her from her walk toward the door. Emma stopped like a deer in headlights, and turned slowly to greet the two teachers. 

My goodness, they’re even sharing an umbrella. Emma Kang, for the first time in her life, just wants to not be a curious kid. Having to see this from her favorite teachers isn’t good for her psyche. 

“Emma Kang, it’s been a while. How are you doing this morning? Are you ready for our rainy day movie session? I didn’t expect the rain to happen so quickly into the semester, but man am I excited for our class to get together again and have some fun. Do you want to help Mr. Choi and I choose the first movie? We’ve been arguing about the lineup all –” 

“(First name), you’re rambling.” Mr. Choi interrupted, and only one thing entered Emma’s mind like a blaring siren once she saw Ms. (last name) stop and giggle about it, apologizing to the kid. 

“You two are married.” Emma blurted out in the midst of Ms. (last name)’s apology, causing the two teachers to freeze up at the accusation – no, the declaration. 

They both rubbed their necks in tandem; Ms. (last name) laughing nervously and suddenly finding interest in the school motto placed on the wall beside them. Mr. Choi looked at his wife, and then looked at his (now unfortunate) brightest student.

“You two are married right? Mr. Choi kissed your forehead and you guys got out of the same car and you guys are even holding pinkies over the handle of Ms. (last name)’s bag.” Emma asked, pointing out her deductions to the newlyweds before her. 

The air stilled once she continued on with her findings, almost laughing at the fact that they immediately let go of each others’ pinkies. Mr. Choi told Emma to follow them, walking from the entrance and to the classroom of 2A. 

Emma watched as they both started to unpack the bags, placing stuff here and there and working together like they’ve been doing this for years. Emma watched a new level of their cooperation unfold on that rainy thursday. 

After they had set up everything, Ms. (last name) walked over to Mr. Choi, and pulled at his blazer to get his attention. They had a discussion with wide eyes and ragged whispers for about five minutes before Mr. Choi raised his hands in defeat. That’s when Emma noticed that he forwent the rings he usually donned, one simple band on his left ring finger catching the light in the room. 

“I guess the cat’s out of the bag now.” Ms. (last name) said after a few moments of awkward silence. 

Emma’s eyes widened to the size of saucers once she realized that they were admitting to her declarations. 

“You guys really are married?” She carefully asked. 

“Yes, yes we are. We recently tied the knot during the break.” Mr. Choi answers, stifling his laughter once he sees confusion slide across his student’s face. 

“What does tying a knot have to do with your marriage?” Emma confusingly questioned.

“It’s an expression. One of the many ways of saying you got married without actually saying it.” Ms. (last name) replies, pinching her husband for laughing. 

“Oh.” Is all Emma said in response. 

The adults studied her face for any odd reactions from Emma Kang, who started to have another mental battle with herself. 

“We actually wanted to tell you and the other kids about it later on.” Mr. Choi supplies helplessly. 

That didn’t seem to work though, as Emma continued to just … blankly stare at them. 

“Are you upset, Emma Kang?” Ms. (last name) asked after almost three minutes of heavy silence. 

Then Emma blinks a few times, looking up at them with something close to joy swimming in her eyes. Mr. Choi and Ms. (last name) let out the breath they didn’t even know they were holding. 

“Upset? This is the best news I’ve gotten all school year. Why would I be upset when the two nicest people in the world are married?” Emma exclaims. 

“I thought you’d be upset that we didn’t say anything.” Mr. Choi replied. 

“I thought you had a crush on Mr. Choi, to be honest.” Ms. (last name) replied at the same time. 

“I’m nine.” Emma deadpanned. 

“When I was nine, I had a crush on my music teacher. I don’t see how that excuse is relevant.” Ms. (last name) said. 

“(First name) you were just an odd kid.” Mr. Choi followed up. 

Emma chuckled when she saw Ms. (last name) hit Mr. Choi on the arm for his comment. 

“You who was crushing over Sam from ‘Danny Phantom’ at that exact age, puh-lease.” Ms. (last name) accused. 

“At least she and I were closer in age than you and your old shriveled up music teacher.” Mr. Choi responded. 

“Sam isn’t even real.” Ms. (last name) said.

“Neither was your chance with that wrinkly old music teacher.” Mr. Choi replied. 

“He was 25 oh my goodness Jiung, stop calling him old.” Ms. (last name) exclaimed. 

“Even worse.” Mr. Choi replied. 

The adults stopped their playful banter when they heard Emma cracking up from her seat. 

“You guys are the sweetest.” She replied once she stopped laughing, shocked at the fond looks that stretched their smiles wide at her.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ 

The rainy day ended up with Emma harboring their secret for them, a lot of movies, and a kid crashing from a sugar rush after sneakily eating too much candy. 

Later that semester, the teachers decided to tell their class separately about their marriage, which breaks another spout of gossip between Emma, Shelby and Tommy. The news spread through More Than Words Elementary like wildfire that day. 

Questions were thrown at the couple for weeks to come after that, and a new quest (bet) was formed between the kid trio. Guessing when they’d have their first kid. 

Emma now helped the kind teachers set up for movie days whenever it rained, and a new constant had been added to Emma’s long list of things she loved.  Her parents (and brother), trucks, Ms. Lim’s bakery, the burger place, Ms. (last name) and Mr. Choi from Class 2A. That was her list of constants.

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 21

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"If we died tonight, I'd die yours,"

summary: joel found you

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, pedophilia, cannibalism, human trafficking, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 21

masterlist!

previous | chapter 20

next | ending

The cold seeped into your bones, icy and unyielding against the concrete floor, and you could feel every bruise, every cut, every ache in your body.

The pain was an unrelenting, throbbing reminder of everything you’d endured, but that wasn’t the worst part. What tore at you now was the horror of seeing Emma, your best friend, taken from this world in a way you wouldn’t have believed possible had you not witnessed it with your own eyes.

Her life, her laughter, her warmth—gone. Because of you.

A sob caught in your throat as the weight of it crushed you. Emma hadn’t deserved this; she had a whole life stretched out before her, full of hope and love.

She had just started it, a new chapter, a new promise. And now, because she’d tried to save you, it had ended in unimaginable horror. The images wouldn’t leave you, wouldn’t stop replaying in your mind.

Jim—God, he was probably gone too. Gone, because of you.

Desperation clawed at your chest, leaving you empty and hollow. You could feel yourself slipping, hope draining out of you like a slow bleed, and something bitter was taking its place.

A deep, aching question clawed at the edges of your mind, one you’d never dared ask before, but one that refused to stay silent any longer: 

Why would God let this happen to you?

You’d loved Him, stayed faithful, tried to be everything you were taught you should be. And yet, here you were, in the darkest pit, left to rot. 

Why?

Tears blurred your vision, and somewhere between the sobs and the silence, you felt something break inside you.

You stopped praying, stopped hoping for anything good. The words, the comfort, the promises—all of it felt hollow.

You were empty now, just a shell of everything you once believed.

The door creaked open, and in he came—Negan, his footsteps echoing like the toll of a death knell. He looked at you, pity mingling with something else in his gaze, a twisted satisfaction.

A smirk tugged at his lips, and he shook his head, his voice dripping with mocking sympathy.

“Aw, look at you,” he cooed.

“See, doll, I didn’t want it to come to this. But you had to go and make things difficult. If you’d just listened to me—if you’d been my good girl—none of this would’ve happened.”

The rage bubbled up, scalding and raw. You looked at him, every ounce of hatred burning in your eyes. “What did you do to her?” The words barely made it past the tightness in your throat, but they were laced with venom.

You could feel it, the sickening truth—whatever he’d done, it was something worse than you could imagine.

Negan chuckled, an unholy sound that made your skin crawl. “Don’t you worry about her,” he said, a dark glint in his eye.

“I took real good care of her.” The words lingered, taunting, but before you could say anything more, he pulled a medical kit from his bag, the glint of a syringe catching your eye.

Panic shot through you, and you scrambled backward, heart pounding. “Don’t… don’t touch me!"

Negan’s eyes softened, his tone suddenly too gentle, too calm. “Relax, princess,” he murmured, reaching for your arm. “I just need you to play along for a bit.”

But you jerked back, thrashing against his grip. “Don’t fucking touch me!” Your voice cracked, fueled by the horror churning in your chest, the feeling of his hand on your skin like a brand.

The gentle smile on his face vanished, replaced by a cold, dangerous stare. His grip tightened, bruising, and in one swift motion, he struck you across the face, the impact leaving stars in your vision.

“Listen to me, you stupid little bitch,” he hissed, his voice low and deadly. “I’m done asking nicely. You’re going to be a good girl and do as I say, or you’re going to wish you had.”

You barely registered the sting of the needle as he plunged it into your arm. The world began to blur, darkness creeping in from the edges, and you fought it, clawing for consciousness, desperate not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

But the drug took hold fast, dragging you down, down, until the world was nothing but darkness.

***

The address Negan gave led Joel to an unassuming neighborhood, quiet and tucked away, where homes lined the street like silent sentries.

Everything here was normal, almost obscenely so, and the ordinariness of it all set his nerves on edge. How could something so terrible be hiding behind these closed doors?

How could neighbors go about their days, clueless to the horror lurking so close? He took a long, deep breath, steeling himself, fingers grazing over the cold metal of his pistol holstered by his side.

He wasn’t a fool; he knew this was a trap. But nothing—nothing—would stop him from stepping into it if it meant the chance to see you alive again.

Before he entered, Joel slipped his phone from his pocket, sending his location to Tommy, leaving the device outside on a rock by the front gate.

He couldn’t afford distractions; whatever came next would be a fight to the end.

As he made his way up the steps, he felt it in his bones, that tether connecting him to you, stretched thin but unbroken. He knew you were here, somewhere behind these walls, waiting, needing him.

His heart ached at the thought of what you’d endured. It wasn’t right—none of this was right. 

Inside, the air was thick with rot and rust, the scent of decay seeping into Joel’s lungs as he moved through the shadowed house.

Every step felt like a descent deeper into hell, each room echoing with the silent horror Negan had constructed within these walls.

The quiet was suffocating, pressing against his senses as he advanced with tense, deliberate steps, the weight of his weapon a cold comfort against his side.

The metallic smell of blood seemed to seep through the walls, thickening the air like rot as Joel moved down the dim corridor, his gaze fixed on the heavy big metal door at the end.

Blood was smeared across its surface, a dark, cruel stain, like the mark of some unholy ritual. He forced himself to breathe through the nausea rising in his throat, steadying himself with a muttered plea.

Please, God, let her be alive.

With a rough, trembling hand, he pushed open the door, entering a space so silent and hollow it felt like stepping into a tomb. The walls were metallic and gray, shimmering faintly under the dim, flickering light.

A hulking freezer stood in the corner, and around it lay instruments of terror—chainsaws, rusted wrenches, and knives coated in dried blood.

This was no ordinary room; it was a pit of nightmares.

He barely took three steps before his gaze froze on the horror ahead—a headless body hung from a butcher’s hook.

With a dress dangling from her shoulders, hair matted against blood-smeared fabric. For a sickening moment, his heart stopped, every nerve screaming as he tried to push down the dread that it was you.

But it wasn’t.

He knew you. The shape of your body, the softness of your shoulders, the line of your arms. Relief coursed through him, but only for a split second.

Desperately, he moved toward the freezer, steeling himself for whatever horror he might find. Inside, jars lined the shelves—heads frozen in twisted, agonized expressions.

Women. Girls to be exact. They don't look older than 20.

His stomach churned violently, but he couldn’t look away. And there, in a fresh jar, he saw Emma’s familiar face, her eyes closed forever in a peaceful, sickening slumber.

His chest tightened as the desperate, icy panic surged within him. He’s taken them all.

As he backed away, his gaze landed on a large object draped in thick canvas, its edges sagging like a dark secret. Swallowing, he approached, slowly pulling back the cover, revealing a small dog cage, lined with soiled fabric and stained in red.

It's you.

He could barely breathe as he took in the sight, disbelief warring with hope. Inside, you lay motionless, your body crumpled and cold, pale in the dim light, bruises shadowing your face and arms.

Every inch of you looked fragile, lifeless. Joel’s heart shattered, the pain so raw it made him stagger.

"No... no," he whispered, stumbling forward. "No.” His voice cracked, shattering the silence.

He dropped to his knees, frantically reaching through the bars, hands trembling as he fumbled with the lock.

It wouldn’t budge, metal biting into his hands as he yanked, pulled, and beat at it in fury until finally, with a final, desperate heave, it gave way.

He pulled your body in his arms, a wave of coldness seeping through his skin as he held you close, brushing a shaking hand against your cheek, as if he could will the warmth back into you.

“Baby…I’m here.” His voice was barely a whisper, as fragile as he’d ever been, a man torn open.

He pressed his ear to your chest, desperate for any sign of life, but your skin was cold, your pulse faint to nonexistent, the quiet threatening to consume him.

"I'm here now… open your eyes, babygirl," he whispered, voice raw and trembling, searching for any flicker, any faint sign of life.

He leaned close, brushing his thumb over your bruised skin, trying to will you back to him. "Doll… please… open your eyes. I'm here."

His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, his body trembling with the weight of the moment, and yet—somewhere, deep in his bones—he felt you.

You couldn’t be gone. Not you. This couldn’t be happening.

Desperation clawed at him as he murmured again, “I’m here… please, please… doll…” The sound of his voice, broken and laced with grief, shattered in the silence.

He clutched you tighter, pressing you to his chest, a hollow ache blooming in the very marrow of him. "Please… don't do this to me, baby…"

"Don't do this to me..."

For the first time in years, Joel prayed.

He’d long forgotten how to ask for mercy, how to whisper words into the void and hope something beyond him might listen.

But here, in this moment, he found himself clinging to the last, fragile remnants of belief, calling out to a God he’d long turned away from, begging—pleading—that you be spared.

His lips moved in a silent prayer, the words barely more than a broken murmur, all his hope wrapped into each fractured plea. Please… don’t take her. Don’t let her go.

His world collapsed into this single, unbearable moment. Everything—the pain, the emptiness, the years he’d spent buried in his own grief—shrank down to this: holding you, willing you to stay.

A part of him whispered that you were gone, that he’d come too late. It sliced through him, the pain cold and merciless, tearing at him from the inside.

But he couldn’t accept it. He wouldn’t. He held you tighter, as if he could pull you back to life with sheer, desperate force.

"Come on, babygirl," he whispered, his voice a soft plea, thick with tears. "You promised me… remember? You promised."

His tears fell onto your skin, mingling with the blood that marred your face, his grief seeping into every inch of you. He bent his head, pressing his lips against your forehead, his tears hot and relentless.

Every memory, every moment with you flashed through his mind, a lifetime of love condensed into seconds. The laughter you’d shared, the softness in your eyes when you’d look at him—all of it now hung in the balance, slipping through his fingers like smoke.

Joel's grip tightened, his arms wrapped around you like he could shield you, even now, from everything dark and vile in this world. "Please, come back to me," he choked out, his voice barely more than a breath, the words pulled from the deepest part of him. 

Come back.

His chest ached, his heart beating against a wall of sorrow so thick it was suffocating. And still, he held you, as though love alone could tether your soul back to him, could fill the silence that had swallowed you whole.

Suddenly, the silence between you shattered as you gasped awake, air flooding into your lungs in a desperate, rattling breath.

Joel’s heart jolted with such force he almost pulled back, but instead, he held you tighter, his relief an overwhelming wave crashing over him.

You thrashed weakly in his arms, vision blurred, disoriented and terrified, your voice breaking in panicked cries. "No! No! Don’t touch me!"

"Hey, hey… it’s me. It’s me," he murmured softly, his hands gentle on your shoulders as he tried to calm you.

His voice was thick, a rough whisper, barely holding back the tears of relief as he drew you closer, feeling the steady warmth of your breath against his chest.

"Joel?" He felt you relax, and slowly, as if afraid you’d disappear if he let go, Joel wrapped his arms tighter around you, silently thanking whatever force was left in this world for bringing you back to him.

"Thank you...Thank you God," he whispered to God, to bring you back.

Your blurred vision cleared, and as your gaze fell on his face, the tears came, spilling over in a torrent of relief, of exhaustion, of love.

You clung to him, like a child, letting out every fear, every longing, until the weight of his presence seemed to ground you, to make you feel safe again.

“I thought… I thought I’d never see you again,” you whispered, your voice trembling, breaking.

He pulled you close, pressing his lips to the side of your head, his words soft and steady. "I got you. You’re safe now… I’m here now." His heart clenched as he felt you collapse against him, trusting him to carry the weight of this moment.

The horror of everything he’d witnessed, everything he’d feared, lingered on the edges of his mind, but with you here in his arms, he could finally breathe.

He then kissed you, you kissed him back.

The warmth of Joel's embrace, that kiss—long, desperate, everything unspoken between you poured into it—all of it felt like salvation, like drowning in relief only to be pulled into air and held there, safe.

Your lips pressed together in a fierce, shared need to feel every ache, every moment of fear, longing, and love—the kiss deepening as if it could carry every bit of pain you’d endured and let it dissolve in his arms.

For a moment, it was just the two of you against the horror, the emptiness that had swallowed you whole.

Here, with him, you are finally feel alive again.

But then, the moment split open. A shadow loomed behind him, and a chill ran down your spine, the dread slithering into your heart before you even turned.

You pulled back, eyes wide, breath catching as you saw Negan standing there, his mouth twisted in a cruel, dark smirk.

In his hands was that familiar bat, glinting under the dim light, raised with lethal intent.

"NO, JOEL—" you managed, your voice breaking as terror surged through you, but it was already too late.

The bat crashed down with a sickening, brutal force, and Joel’s body crumpled beneath the blow.

“Joel!” Your scream tore through the silence, raw and desperate. His form lay motionless, blood slowly trickling from the wound on his head, staining his face as his eyes fell shut.

The sight shattered you.

Negan grabbed you, yanking you away with unyielding strength. You kicked, you clawed, but it was no use. “NO! Don’t do anything to him! Please, don’t hurt him, don’t—” But your pleas fell on deaf ears.

He threw you back into the cold, unforgiving cage, the door slamming shut with a merciless clang.

"NEGAN, NO!" You pounded against the bars, fists slamming as you screamed. He only watched, amused, as though your desperation was an orchestra he enjoyed conducting.

Across the room, Negan dragged Joel’s limp body to a chair, binding his hands and legs with thick, rough ropes. He worked meticulously, each knot tight, his gaze never leaving Joel's battered face.

Blood dripped from the wound on Joel’s head, trailing slowly down his neck, and you felt a crushing helplessness as you watched him, your voice cracking as you screamed.

“Joel! Joel, please… wake up…”

You clawed at the bars until your nails split, your hands bloody, but the steel held fast.

The reality of the moment sank into your bones like ice, each second stretching with dread. "NEGAN, PLEASE!" you begged, your voice breaking, but he only turned toward you with a mocking, cold look.

"That’s the last time he’ll get to touch you," Negan sneered, disgust twisting in his voice as he gestured back at the spot where you’d kissed Joel, where you’d clung to him like he was your last hope. “Disgusting.”

***

Joel’s world flickered back to life in fragments, his mind swimming as he fought the waves of blackness pressing against him.

His head throbbed with a searing pain, and his vision blurred as he forced his eyes open, seeing only flashes of movement and shapes at first.

Then, bit by bit, his sight cleared, and he could see you through the haze, slumped against the bars of a cage, tears streaming down your face as you called his name, desperate and broken.

His heart twisted at the sight, fear tearing through him as he tried to reach for you, only to feel the bite of ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles.

He was bound to the chair, unable to move. Panic settled into his chest, sharp and unforgiving. “Doll…” he managed, his voice hoarse and shaky as he struggled against the restraints, the blood from his wound still warm, trickling down his neck.

Negan’s voice cut through the tension, sharp and cruel, like the edge of a blade scraping against bone. "Well, look who’s finally awake,"he jeered, stepping into Joel’s view, his eyes gleaming with a sick, twisted pleasure.

Every word that left Negan’s lips felt like an assault, each syllable laced with venom.

The sight of him, standing there so casually, was enough to stir something inside Joel that was deeper than fury—it was primal, raw, a burning hatred that ignited within him.

Every muscle in his body screamed to break free, to get to you, to tear Negan apart. He pulled at the ropes, feeling them bite into his skin, but they held fast, as immovable as the horror that had unfolded.

"I'm going to kill you," Joel growled, the words thick with rage and the promise of retribution. The air around him seemed to crackle with violence, his every word a threat, his every breath heavy with hatred.

Negan’s laugh was low and cruel, a sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Without warning, he drove his fist into Joel's stomach, and the sound of it—the sickening thud—echoed in the room, a sharp crack of pain that sent a wave of terror through you.

“No!” you screamed, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands reaching helplessly through the bars, as if you could stop the onslaught with your mere presence.

Negan wiped the blood from his knuckles and smiled. "You think you can save her, huh? Think you can play hero, Miller?" he mocked, his voice dripping with scorn.

"C’mon, you can’t be that stupid. You really think I’d kill her? Please… she’s way too much fun to kill." He sneered, another brutal punch landing on Joel’s face, snapping his head to the side with a sickening crack.

Joel’s eyes were darkened with pain, his mouth now filled with blood, but the fire in him didn’t waver. "I’m gonna fucking kill you," Joel spat, the blood dribbling from his lips, his voice hoarse with fury.

Negan tilted his head, studying Joel with a twisted grin. "Tough guy, huh?" he said, mocking the very idea of Joel’s strength. "Well, let’s see how tough you are when you can’t do a damn thing about it."

Joel’s heart was thundering in his chest, the pulse of his veins matching the brutal rhythm of the punches he endured.

But his spirit didn’t falter; it only burned brighter with every insult, with every blow that landed on his battered body.

Negan circled him, like a predator sizing up its prey, leaning in close, his voice thick with venom as he whispered into Joel’s ear. "What were you thinking, huh? That you could just walk in here and stop me?" He chuckled, shaking his head, his voice dripping with mocking pity.

"We were fine without you. Hell, we were thriving without you." His eyes flicked over to you in the cage, a dark glimmer in them. "She was happy, you know. Didn’t need you to be in her head. But here you are, playing the white knight, trying to save the girl you don’t even fucking deserve."

Negan's voice was like poison, dripping from his lips with a slow, deliberate cruelty, each word laced with venom meant to tear Joel down, to twist the knife deeper.

He knew the weight of Joel's guilt, the shadows of his past, and now, he was going to use it against him.

"You think you deserve her?" Negan’s tone was mocking, cruel, his eyes glinting with a sadistic pleasure. "You? You think you can be her hero, Miller? You’ve known her since she was a little girl, right? Since she was three? And now you’re fucking her?" His voice rose with each word, the venom thickening, as if he could make Joel choke on the very idea.

"Disgusting."

Joel’s stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. He couldn’t respond—not yet. Not when Negan was playing with fire, fanning the flames of his mind, trying to ignite a spark of doubt in his heart.

Joel remained silent, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt, his gaze burning holes into the floor beneath him.

Negan was trying to gaslight him, make him feel like the monster, make him believe the lies about his relationship with you.

Negan leaned in, his breath hot against Joel's ear, like a shadow whispering sweet poison into his soul. "You really think you’re a hero, huh?" He chuckled darkly.

"You think you’re saving her? You’re just like them, Miller. Just like Ben. Just like that goddamn pedophile you killed. And don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it—taking matters into your own hands, playing God, playing judge, jury, and executioner. You’re the same fucking monster they were. You’re just too stupid to see it."

The words sent a cold shiver through Joel’s veins, like ice water splashing against his skin.

The ghosts of his past clawed at him, the blood-stained memories that had been haunting him for years now bubbling up to the surface. He had killed Ben and Jamie. Killed them to protect her. 

"You killed them because you want her to be all yours. Not because you want to protect her,"

Joel’s jaw clenched, but his mind started to churn with the doubt Negan planted, each word a tiny crack in the wall Joel had built around himself.

He had been justifying everything, hadn’t he? His actions… the things he did for you. It was all for you, wasn’t it? To protect you.

But Negan was playing with fire, and his words were like gasoline—burning through the edges of Joel’s sanity, forcing him to look at the truth through a new, ugly lens.

“God,” Negan’s voice dropped to a low murmur, almost conversational, “I watched her for a long time. Long before you even fucking noticed her.”

He stepped closer, his breath sour, smelling of something rotten, something foul. “The first time I met her father… I was going to repent. I was going to change. Hell, Naomi told me to visit Reverend Gibson, to clean up my act, to find some peace. I was gonna find salvation. All those other girls—bored me. But then… I saw her."

"She was in that white sundress, innocent, pure. I thought—" He let out a dark laugh, shaking his head. “I thought God wanted me to have her, Miller. Maybe she was my redemption. To have a pure, sweet, innocent soul to redeem my sins."

"But then you showed up. Like a fucking rat you have to showed up for God's sake!"

Joel felt his breath catch, like he was drowning in the weight of Negan’s words, each one pressing down on him, pushing him deeper into a pit of guilt and self-loathing.

Negan’s laughter was sickening. It clawed at Joel’s chest, and the air felt thick, choking. “You… you played the fucking hero, huh? You couldn’t leave well enough alone."

Negan walking circled him, "You thought you could save her from her misery just because her father disciplined her. So what, Joel? Girls need to be fucking taught!"

"I agree with her father on that one. She was a brat! and oh she still is!"

The silence was deafening after those words. They hung in the air like smoke, choking the life out of Joel, filling him with a slow, creeping dread.

His mind spun, the thought of you, so innocent, so pure, now tangled in his web. Negan was poisoning everything, every memory of you, twisting it into something ugly, something perverse.

Negan didn’t stop, his words like chains tightening around Joel’s neck, dragging him deeper into the muck. "You led her to you, Joel. Don’t even try to pretend you didn’t."

"You acted like you could protect her. But you can’t even protect yourself from your own past, can you? You’re so goddamn broken, so messed up. And now you’re just taking advantage of her. 

Joel’s heart pounded in his chest, a storm of guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. Was he—had he really led you here? Was he really just as bad as Negan said?

Negan’s voice dropped to a mocking whisper, dragging the words through Joel's mind like claws on glass. “She was your daughter’s friend, Joel. Ellie’s friend.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against Joel’s ear.

“Don’t you feel disgusted? You’ve fucked your daughter’s friend. That’s how far you’ve fallen.”

Joel’s head swam, the weight of the words crashing over him, drowning him in a sea of doubt and self-loathing.

His grip tightened on the ropes, his knuckles white, but there was something else now—a spark of something dark, something cold in his chest.

"What do you think Jane would say, huh?" with the mention of his late wife, Joel's body tighten up.

"You think she’d be proud of you, molesting Evelyn’s daughter? Evelyn, Jane’s best friend. You’re disgusting, Joel. All of this? It’s on you."

Negan continued, his voice a low, mocking growl, pushing Joel to the edge. “You’re no better than any of us. Look at you, Miller."

"You took advantage of her. She was just a little girl who needed someone to teach her. And you? You saw an opportunity, didn’t you?”

"You are pathetic," Negan's word hit like a snake's fangs, stung through Joel's heart.

Joel clenched his fists harder, his body trembling with rage, fear, and a deep sense of self-loathing. His throat burned as he fought to keep the tears back, to keep from choking on the agony of his own thoughts. The floodgates were closing, but they were trembling, about to burst.

What has he done?

Joel’s thoughts were a maelstrom now. He couldn’t focus. His mind was torn between the images of you—so sweet, so innocent—and the cruel words that Negan kept throwing at him, one after another.

But then, through the haze of doubt, through the suffocating weight of Negan’s venom, Joel heard your voice.

“No!” You screamed, your voice breaking through the madness, a raw, desperate plea.

“Joel, don’t listen to him!” The words trembled on your lips, an echo of everything you needed to say, everything you wanted Joel to hear.

"Don't listen to him!" you screamed again, your breath ragged, your throat burning from the effort. The sound of Negan’s poison lingered in the air like smoke, heavy and thick, but you couldn’t let it smother the truth.

You needed him to hear you. He needed to hear you.

"Joel, look at me!" you pleaded, your hands gripping the bars of the cage so tightly your fingers turned white.

Every word Negan had said felt like a bullet to your heart, but you couldn’t—you wouldn’t—let Joel fall into the same trap. He was better than this. 

He is better than them.

"You’re not like them, Joel. You never were!" The words spilled from your mouth, raw and desperate, desperate to break through the fog that was clouding his mind.

You needed him to see the truth—the truth that was you and him, the life you shared, the love you both fought for in the darkest corners.

"You love me. In your own way, but you love me, Joel! You saved me! You gave me a life I never thought I deserved." Your voice cracked with the weight of everything you were feeling, the deep well of emotion that surged between you both.

"Joel, I love you."

"I love you, Joel. and you love me, you are my savior, you saved me."

"Look at me! Look at me, Joel! Don't let him under your skin, please,"

Negan, on the other side of this fragile moment, stood grinning, eyes glinting with amusement, as if watching a puppet fight its strings.

He saw Joel waver, saw the flicker of doubt and fear, and he thrived on it. His smile was nothing short of wicked, enjoying the chaos he had stirred.

He had set his trap, and now he watched, savoring the confusion that was slowly chipping away at Joel’s resolve.

You could see Joel, fighting against the chaos in his own mind, the weight of Negan’s twisted words pulling at him like a chain.

His eyes flickered, lost, haunted, caught between his past and the present, between the lies and the truth. But then—then—he looked at you.

For a moment, it was like time stopped. The world held its breath, and all that existed was you and him.

His gaze locked on yours, and in that instant, you saw everything—the raw, unspoken love, the pain, the guilt, the shame, but also the fight.

The fight to break free, the fight to protect you, the fight to keep you safe.

"Joel," you whispered, your voice soft but steady now, as if you were trying to calm the storm that raged inside him.

"You are so much better than this. You’re not like them, Joel. You’re not a monster. You are the best father Ellie and Sarah could ever want, Joel. They will be proud of you, she would have. The best man I have ever wanted, you're my protecter, the love of my life, you are my soul, Joel."

But as you cried out to him, Negan’s smile twisted into a sneer, his patience running thin. "Enough with your fucking mouth!" he growled, turning to you with fury, his hands reaching for the cage, yanking the door open with a violence that made you flinch.

"Shut up already."

Before you could react, Negan was on you, his hand slapping across your face with a sickening force, sending your head whipping to the side.

The sound of the slap echoed in the room, louder than your scream. The sting spread like fire across your cheek, your eyes filling with tears that blurred your vision.

For a moment, the world spun—his presence, his cruelty, all of it was too much to bear.

With that, Joel—Joel is awake.

In that instant, the haze lifted from his eyes. The fury, the protectiveness, everything that made Joel Joel came rushing back.

His muscles strained against the ropes, his eyes flashing with an intensity that would have burned holes in the walls if he could.

He was no longer the broken man Negan had manipulated, no longer the victim of his words.

He was the man who had fought for you, the man who had saved you.

"You son of a bitch!" Joel roared, the raw anger in his voice like a clap of thunder. His body surged forward, every instinct screaming to protect you, to break free from his restraints.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" He screamed, his hands were shaking with rage, but that was the only thing that kept him grounded—the unrelenting need to destroy the man who had dared to lay a finger on you.

The rope binding Joel's wrists strained as he twisted, trying to force the knot loose, his mind ablaze with fury. Every word Negan spoke chipped away at his restraint, his heart hammering with hatred.

The sight of you in Negan's hold—his arm around your neck, the gleaming knife pressed to your throat—made Joel’s blood boil.

But he knew he had to keep his wits; one wrong move, and you’d be lost.

Negan grinned, tightening his grip around your neck. His voice was dripping with mockery as he taunted, "What’s the matter, honey? Scared now?" He leaned closer, his sneer twisted with sadistic pleasure.

"Oh, Joel, why’d you have to ruin everything? If it wasn’t for you, she and I—" he paused, savoring each word, "we’d have lived happily ever after."

Joel’s hands shook as he worked against the restraints, his heart pounding. Negan’s twisted words were knives slicing into him, each one crueler than the last.

"She’s delicious, Joel," Negan sneered, his voice sickly sweet as he ran his tongue along his teeth. "The way she tastes... can’t get enough of her." He licked his lips exaggeratedly, taunting Joel, mocking him with every vile syllable.

"You should’ve known," Negan laughed, pressing the blade closer to your skin, just enough to draw a thin trickle of blood.

"Stop it, Negan, please," you whimpered, tears spilling from your eyes, the despair twisting in your voice.

Negan only tightened his hold, his voice low and cruel. "What’s the matter, honey? You were enjoying it too, right?" The words crushed you, and you turned your face away, unable to look at Joel, a sense of shame sinking into your soul.

Joel's fingers scraped against the ropes with renewed desperation, his fury almost blinding.

Negan’s voice slithered through the silence, every word laced with cruelty. "You know," he continued, "I thought of sharing her around with the others. She made me good money, after all. She knows how to entertain… they paid well. Maybe you’d want a turn, too, Joel. She’s… profitable." He laughed, a dark, rasping sound that reverberated in the room, tightening the coil of hatred in Joel’s chest.

"I’m gonna kill you," Joel growled through gritted teeth, his voice a low, venomous promise.

"Ah, ah," Negan teased, pressing the blade harder against your skin, making you wince. "I’m not finished yet."

Negan’s voice softened, a calculated cruelty in every word as he continued. "But I started thinking... she can’t stay young forever. Thought maybe… it’d be a shame not to pass on those… charming qualities of hers."

"And wouldn’t you know it, Joel, she was carrying a piece of me inside her. That's right, My child!"

"She didn’t agree, of course… but a little force never hurt, right?"

Joel’s heart froze at Negan’s taunts, every word tearing open old wounds he’d buried deep.

Each sentence was a twisted knife, slashing at the walls Joel had built to keep the pain, guilt, and memories at bay. Negan’s voice was venomous, slithering around the broken dreams Joel had long since given up on.

He felt the darkness creeping back—the part of him that, years ago, had once loved fiercely, only to lose everything in one brutal instant.

But pregnant? His mind reeled, the word pounding in his skull like a drum. The image of you, scared and vulnerable, carrying his child—his child—pierced through the numbness in his heart.

He could barely breathe, the thought of you enduring such horror while he was oblivious igniting a fury so primal, so fierce, it nearly drowned him.

Rage tangled with a crushing sense of failure. He wanted to rip Negan apart with his bare hands, make him pay for every ounce of pain he’d inflicted.

Negan’s twisted laughter cut through his thoughts. “Yeah, she wanted a family, Joel,” he sneered, lips curling in a malicious grin.

“She had this fucking unrealistic idea, delusional bitch. You. Her. Playing house. Kids. The whole perfect life fantasy. But she knew, didn’t she?” Negan’s gaze pierced Joel, mocking him with each word.

“You were scared of it, scared of screwing it up like you did the last time. I mean, how could she not know? You’ve got ‘haunted’ written all over you. Lost control, didn't you? When you killed your own family,” Negan laughed, as if savoring each jab.

Inside, Joel’s heart twisted. He remembered the night like yesterday. Now he was left with nothing but ashes and guilt that hollowed him out from the inside.

Every part of him was screaming to shut Negan up, to wipe that smug look off his face. But it was true, wasn’t it? Deep down, he was scared—scared of losing again, scared of failing you the way he’d failed before.

But you, you were different. Despite everything, you stayed.

Despite the darkness he carried, the broken parts he tried to hide, you’d somehow found something worth holding onto.

That fierce loyalty of yours was like a light in the pitch-black cave of his heart, something so pure it almost hurt to look at.

You were stupid, he told himself, but the truth was you were braver than he ever could be.

You had this impossible, relentless hope—the dream of a life together, a family, even though he’d told himself it could never be.

You had loved him, flaws and all, even when he couldn’t love himself. And now, the thought of what Negan had done, the way he’d shattered that hope, drove him to the edge.

"But this stupid bitch killed my baby before they could feel their daddy's voice,"

Negan's words echoed in the dim room, each one twisting deeper into Joel's heart. The pain surged through him like wildfire. You'd done the unimaginable for him, sacrificing more than he could comprehend, and now here you were, your hope and loyalty used against you like weapons.

It was more than he could take—Negan was tearing away the last pieces of himself, bit by bit. Joel's fists clenched tight, knuckles white, straining against the binds holding him back, desperate to shut Negan up, to take back what had been lost.

Negan’s voice grew sharper, each taunt slicing like a blade. "You see, Joel? this bitch is loyal and fucking crazy, she killed her own child for you! just to make a new baby for you!"

"She killed her own kid—for you. All that love, all that loyalty, wasted on you."

"But it’s over, you hear me? You and her? Done. I’ll make sure she forgets you. And when I’m finished with you, there’ll be nothing left."

The world narrowed to this single moment. Negan, too consumed with his taunts to notice, didn’t see you move.

In a swift, silent motion, you grabbed a jagged tool from the ground behind him, the weight of it heavy in your hand. You swung it, heart pounding, and plunged it into Negan's chest with everything you had.

Negan gasped, staggering back, his eyes flashing with fury and shock. In an instant, he retaliated, plunging his knife into your side.

The pain ripped through you, a white-hot flash as you felt the blade sink in, stealing the air from your lungs.

"Joel..."

Time slowed, the world narrowing to the throbbing ache and the look on Joel's face—his eyes wide, pure horror carved into every line, as he screamed for you, voice raw and desperate. 

"NO!"

Your name fell from his lips, a broken prayer, just as you stumbled back, collapsing onto the cold ground. Negan kicked you aside with brutal force, your body sliding across the floor as you fought to keep your vision steady.

You could barely hear Joel’s cries over the rushing in your ears, his desperate shout, the anguish that filled every word, but you felt his presence as if he were right there, holding you.

The sound of wood splintering filled the room as Joel threw his weight against the chair, shattering the binds that held him. In one furious motion, he was on his feet, lunging at Negan with a force that seemed to shake the air.

They collided in a storm of fists and fury, each punch landing like thunder. Blood smeared the floor, echoing the carnage that seethed within Joel’s heart, his fists fueled by a rage that seemed boundless.

Every blow was a release, a reckoning for the agony and fear Negan had unleashed.

Through your blurred vision, you saw them—Joel, relentless and unyielding, his fists raining down on Negan, every punch charged with a love he’d never put into words, a love you could feel, pulsing through every beat of your wounded heart.

The scene before you felt like a twisted nightmare, each moment a struggle to stay present, to push through the pain as blood seeped from your wounds.

You clutched your side, feeling the warmth slip between your fingers as you pressed down, refusing to give in. You had to stay awake. You had to stay with him.

Joel was still fighting, his fists relentless, fueled by desperation and a love that spoke louder than words. But Negan’s laugh rang out, mocking, dark.

“Tough guy, Miller? Is that all you got?” Negan’s face was bruised, bloodied, but he still smirked through it, as if even this pain was just another game to him.

"Bring it on!" Negan said. Joel didn’t let up, his fists a storm of anger, of love, of every unspoken promise he’d made. He was protecting you with everything he had.

But in a flash, Negan’s hand found his bat, and with a brutal swing, he sent Joel flying backward, his head colliding with the floor.

As Joel’s head slammed against the cold ground, a sickening thud reverberated through the room, a sound that echoed in the hollow of your chest.

But Negan loomed over him now, his eyes alight with a sadistic joy. “My turn,” he sneered, swinging the bat down again and again, each blow ringing out, a sickening thud that filled the room.

"NO!"

Joel tried to stand, tried to fight, but he was slowing, his strength waning. Blood pooled around him, and when he looked up at you, his eyes were glazed, his face pale.

Blood ran from his temple in a dark, winding river, and you could see the light beginning to fade in his eyes, the haze of consciousness slipping further with each ragged breath.

His gaze found yours, as he tried to smile, to offer you one last reassurance. You felt a surge of panic rise in you, raw and consuming, as you screamed, “NO! STOP IT!" you saw Negan bash his bat to Joel over and over again.

But Negan laughed, a deep, sinister sound that filled every corner of the room. “Look at you, Miller,” he sneered, swinging the bat down again, the force of it making Joel’s body jerk, each strike ripping pieces from your soul.

“You really thought you could win?”

Your vision blurred as hot tears slipped down your cheeks. The pain in your side was blinding, your own blood pooling beneath you, but nothing compared to the sight of Joel—your Joel—bruised, broken, and bleeding, his life slipping away with each heartbeat.

“Wake up, Joel,” you whispered, a plea laced with desperation, but your voice cracked as you saw him begin to fade.

"WAKE UP!" you screamed, “Please, Joel. Wake up!” You tried to rise, but agony shot through you, your body weakening under the weight of your injuries.

All you could do was lie there, helpless, watching as the man you loved was torn apart before your eyes.

Negan paused, his cruel smile widening as he noticed Joel’s lips moving, a faint whisper escaping.

“What’s that, tough guy? what did you say? oh my God! tough son of a bitch! look! he tried to speak to you!” He laughed looking at you as Negan point to Joel laying in the ground blood all over him, mocking, stepping back just enough to give Joel room to speak.

Joel’s head lifted, his bloodied face turned to you, his voice broken but determined.

“C-close… your eyes, doll…” His words were barely audible, each syllable a struggle, blood trickling from his mouth as he tried to form the words.

He lifted a hand, reaching out to you, trembling, his fingers stretching to bridge the aching space between you.

You shake your head crying, "No...Joel...", The world closed in around you, the weight of your love for him too heavy, too fierce, to bear the thought of letting go.

Tears blurred your vision, and you choked back a sob, heart shattering as you whispered back, “You can’t… I can’t lose you.”

"J-just, c-close your eyes, you're gonna be okay," he said again, blood now coming out from his mouth again.

Your chest heaved, your vision blurred with tears. No, you thought, this can’t be it.

The man who’d become everything to you—the man who’d fought against his own darkness just to hold onto yours—was fading. You couldn’t lose him. You wouldn’t lose him.

Then, as if by divine intervention, your gaze fell to the floor.

It's your gun. Your bible and your gun you hadn't see in a long time.

The gun and the Bible Frank had given you, lying just within reach beneath the table. A fire rekindled within you.

A fury as deep and fierce as your love for Joel, you need to save him. This man would fight to his last breath for you, and you'd do the same for him.

Then you began to crawl, inch by painful inch, toward the weapon. Negan, too caught up in his victory, hadn’t noticed, his laughter grating on your raw nerves.

“Oh, don’t worry, Joel,” Negan sneered, leaning over him with twisted delight. “I’m gonna take real good care of your girl here. Good night.”

But before he could swing, before he could deliver that final, sickening blow, you rose to your knees, aimed the gun, and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The sound shattered the silence. Negan froze, the shock evident in his wide, stunned eyes as he stumbled, blood blooming across his chest. You fired again.

You didn’t stop. Y

He looked at you, eyes narrowing, but you held your ground, staring into him with a steady, unyielding gaze.

Again and again and again, you pressed the trigger, feeling your breath hitch with each pull, each impact sinking deeper, as if each shot was tearing away the chains he had wrapped around you.

You are screaming as the fury poured from you, pouring all the agony into each pull of the trigger, trying to emptying every last round into him, watching him fall, watching his face twist in horror as his strength faded.

Finally, the gun clicked, empty, but you weren’t finished. Dropping the weapon, you stepped forward, picking up his bat.

The weight felt righteous in your hands. Standing over him, you paused, staring down into his eyes, watching the realization settle—he knew he’d lost.

Negan’s bloodied mouth twisted into a smile, his laughter hoarse and fading. “Look at you,” he rasped, his voice broken, taunting to the very end. “All grown up now.”

Those were his last words.

You raised it high and swung the bat with everything you had, unleashing everything he’d taken from you, every wound he had caused, every hope he’d tried to crush.

The sound of cracking bone echoing in the room, a raw, primal scream tearing from your throat as you brought it down again and again and the bone shattered beneath you.

The world faded, reduced to the rhythmic, furious release of pain, until nothing was left but silence, his broken body beneath you.

You dropped the bat, chest heaving, the weight of it all crashing down on you.

And then you heard it—Joel’s voice, barely a whisper, calling your name, grounding you, reminding you of who you were beyond the fury.

You turned toward him, your body swaying with the weight of pain and exhaustion. Every step you took felt heavier than the last, as if the ground itself wanted to hold you back, to stop you from reaching him.

But you pushed forward, collapsing beside him, your trembling hands finding his blood-streaked face, brushing against his stubbled cheek with a gentleness that defied the violence you’d just endured.

"Joel… hang on," you whispered, but the words barely escaped your lips, thick with tears.

His head lolled against you, his brown eyes finding yours, and the blood pooled in his hair shimmered like some tragic halo.

You could feel the strength slipping from his body, a slow ebbing tide that pulled him further away with every heartbeat.

"Look at me, doll," he murmured, his voice a threadbare whisper, his hand lifting with a tremor to brush your cheek, his thumb sweeping away the tears that blurred your vision.

"You’re… you’re gonna be okay."

You shook your head, gathering him closer, your blood mingling with his as you pressed his head to your lap, cradling him as though you could shelter him from the world that had dealt you both such cruelty.

"No, we’re gonna be okay," you insisted, your voice breaking under the weight of it, a plea wrapped in promise.

"Don’t leave me… please, Joel. I can’t do this without you."

You could see the struggle in his eyes, the quiet resignation in his bruised face as he tried to smile, each line etched into his skin telling stories of a life spent fighting—and now, his final fight slipping through his grasp.

He lifted a hand, pressing against the wound on your side even as his own blood stained your fingers. Every breath was shallow, every word a strain.

He leaned his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes barely focusing but still on you, clinging to this moment, to you.

"I’m sorry, babygirl," he whispered, as if the words themselves could bind you together just a little longer.

“No. Don’t… don’t do this to me, Joel,” you begged, pressing your hand harder to his wound too, as if the pressure alone could stop the flow of time, of everything that was slipping away.

You cupped his face, tears falling onto his skin, mingling with the blood that soaked you both. "We’re gonna be okay. We have to be."

But even as you spoke, darkness edged into your vision too, the room narrowing to the beat of your shared breaths, slow and unsteady.

His fingers held yours, entwined in a desperate grip that softened as his strength faded, his pulse a faint echo in your hand. “I love you,” he whispered.

The words raw and cracked, filling the hollow spaces between you, the ache and loss that could never be spoken. “I’ll always be with you.”

The world blurred, the pain and fear blending into a strange calm as you traced your fingers over his face, memorizing every line, every scar.

"I love you so much, Joel," you whispered, voice barely a breath, pressing your lips to his forehead, grounding yourself in the warmth of him, the man who had become your salvation, your strength.

He looked at you, his gaze softening, his hand falling to rest against your cheek one last time. "I found you,” he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the darkness began to claim him.

In the distance, a sound broke the silence—a wail of sirens, voices muffled and faint, calling yours and Joel's name.

You heard your own name echoed, felt the vibration of the world rushing toward you, but it felt so far away, unreachable.

“Joel?” you whispered, weak and fading, your vision blurring as exhaustion pulled you under. Joel didn’t respond, his head resting still against your lap, his breathing shallow, slipping away from you.

Your name rang out again, closer now, a voice that you knew—a voice that felt like home.

"Tommy," you managed, a faint smile softening your lips as your gaze lifted, catching sight of his familiar face before the darkness claimed you.

“He found us.”

And then, like the soft closing of a book, everything faded into black.

HANG ON PEOPLE, WE STILL GOT ONE MORE FINAL CHAPTER!

[stormxpadme]

There's a bit of fanfiction negativity in the tags :(. Looking for something to cheer me up, what's your personal scogan fanfic favorites?

Yeah, I saw that, both in the scogan and scogean tag, with posts even including the character name tags. Like. Not cool, people. Way to make authors feel shitty who have been guarding the ship lighthouse for the last 20 years. Claiming in the most popular tags, there's only like 1 good fic among more than 1500? Wow, okay. So I was very happy to receive your ask. Let's counter that negativity with some awesome scogan reads!

Damaged by scottxlogan

Can't do any scogan rec list without including the leading authority on the subject. @scottxlogan is the author who pulled me into this ship years ago, not to mention they're a great friend, unbelievably talented writer and artist, and they deserve all the love. Damaged is surely one of their most ambitious projects and deserves every single view, kudos and review out there. Set in the DOFP finale verse that is no doubt the author's specialty, the story comes with an alluring, intricated plot that leaves you on the edge of your seat along with all the feels.

Submission by scottxlogan

I'm also including a newer work by the same author in case you just want to get a feel for how wonderfully she writes these guys, not to mention the shameless steamy goodness that are the author's smut scenes. scottxlogan is an expert at reversing common fandom tropes believably, and this will leave you longing for more of these power exchanges easily.

he carries the reminders by Wolfsheart

@mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea is another great friend and author I would trust even with my biggest squicks (not that she writes those anyway :D). She's not only technically brillant and very well-versed in the lore which makes every pairing she writes a great read (check out her Tony/Emma, too!), but she'll also never fail to make you laugh or put those hearts in your eyes. And don't miss all those pop culture references that even put Peter Parker to shame! She also gives us scogan fans exactly what we need with stories like this one, combining our fav hurt/comfort tropes with a healthy dose of canon fix it.

I loved you since I knew you by strangenewwords

@strangenewwords is a fairly new and dearly beloved addition to our group at @scoganbingo events, but she's already made a huge impact with her delicious smut and angst stories that hit you right in the feels. Technically also brillant, the linked story is definitely one you don't want to get spoilered for beforehand because the ending will leave you in absolute awe and tears. The author doesn't shy away from including the darkest sides of Scott's past but handles every subject with the necessary care and respect, and as I said ... You don't want to miss out on all that delicious smut!

The Day Before the Soldiers Came by Cerylid

Cery is offering a much-needed fixit for the team dynamics between the X-Men and Logan before X2 with this story. It comes with a lot of humor but also far more feels than you expect. The texting is hilarious but it's the quiet tones that get to you.

*****

Speaking of fix-its, since that negativity in the tags kinda got to me, too, I might just throw in one of my own works here too since I also got lots of Scogan stuff out there.

My spirit's sleeping somewhere cold

is basically my go-to X3 fix-it. You look for something to make that movie right, you got it all right there. Along with a bit of horror (we are talking about resurrection, after all) comes a dramatic rescue mission in a mental limbo, and you get an Avenger and Emma Frost guest-starring. There's a couple of follow up chapters that explore both scogan and Tony/Emma a bit further, and we even get a Laura version in old movieverse along the line, and of course all the nasty nasty smut you guys are here for.

########

So, that's it from the top of my hat. All these accounts have even more great stories to check out, and there's lots of other scogan authors out there with great stories to enjoy. So don't let anyone tell you, there's no quality scogan stuff on AO3.

[andsoigotabutterfly]

-Freefall

Emma Myers x fem!famous!actress!reader

Summary: Wednesday Season two's filming starts, and Emma can't help but find a certain new college of hers very attractive.

a/n: Well this took a heckin' long time. Sorry, I just had to hide from my government because I accidentally stole state secrets. Only surfaced up so I could upload this. Hope you enjoy!

warning: little bit of angst, jelousy, little fluffy (is this even a warning?), bad writing, not proofread, english is still not my native language so sorry for any mistakes, famous reader, oblivious Emma AND reader

ler me know if I left something out!

“So, basically this is basically it. What do you think?”

Emma has been showing Jasmine around set all day. Even though early setbacks, they have been bonding and overall having a great time together. This season’s set was way bigger than the last, yet the layout was similar, so Emma knew her way around. Many of the staff were still being hired, thus, she volunteered to show new people around.

“Way bigger than what I expected!” the curly haired woman exclaimed. “And everyone is so nice! To be honest, I’m a bit overwhelmed…”

“That’s natural” Emma nodded. ”First when I got here last season, my head was spinning like crazy. You’ll get used to it.”

Jasmin’s mouth was still slightly hanging open, in an awestruck state. Then she mischievously smiled and looked over at Emma. She was gleaming, and even though Emma has only known her for three hours, she knew she wanted to ask something.

“Out with it” she smiled back.

“Is it true, that the Y/N is going to our colleague?”

Even the mention of your name was enough for Emma for her smile to grow bigger. The last couple years, you have burst onto scene, claiming every award you’ve been nominated for, and you deserved every one of them. Somehow every movie you’ve been in, it was as if you owned the scene. Some films got big just because of your acting, but you acted in some that were famous even before you got added to the cast.

Emma was entirely and utterly enthralled with you, and it wasn’t even an understatement. When she got word from Jenna, that she had asked you to be a part of Wednesday season two, and you said yes, she nearly fainted.

Jenna, as the co-producer of the new season, had pulled some strings and invited a lot of actors and actresses she has been working with in the past to be a part of Wednesday. Jasmin and you were almost the only ones, who’d been available, and would want to take part in the making of the new season.

Then she realized she needed to answer a question, and quickly nodded.

“Man, she is just simply great!” she said, and then continued her rant about you for five minutes, whilst the only thing Emma could do, was to nod along, whilst leading the woman to the director’s cabin. She couldn’t disagree with anything she said.

“I’ve also heard she might be your love interest…” Jasmin mischievously said, leaning in and grinning at the smaller woman.

“What? Wher- N- No that’s ridiculous” Emma stuttered. “I would neve-“ she got cut of by her companions’ intense laughter. She blinked in confusion, little scared. “What’s so funny?”

“I meant in the show!” Jasmin laughed out.

Emma mentally facepalmed herself, then smacked the other’s shoulder. Then realisation settled in her, as Jasmin’s words sank in. No. It couldn’t be… But that would mean, you. And her. Would have to. The thought made Emma unintentionally smile.

As the two continued their way towards Tim’s base of operations, conversation flew between them easily. Jasmin would not let go of the topic, and would retrial the chatter towards you, whenever Emma would try to change the subject. She had quickly found about Emma’s interest in you and would constantly tease her with it.

They didn’t even realise that they have reached their destination, until a loud shriek came from the trailer. “I would be her what?!”

The two looked at each other, and without a word, got closer as to hear what’s happening inside. Not a lot could be made out, but Emma could hear two people talking inside. She looked over to Jasmin, whose eyes were wide, a huge smile plastered on her face. Seeing her clueless partner, she whispered a quick “Let’s get inside” towards her, and before Emma could do something, dragged her inside.

“Jenna, I just can’t do that!” you said, your distress clearly audible in your voice. You had your back towards the new arrivals, not noticing them. “It’s not like when I did it with you, she is- I’m…” You didn’t finish the sentence, as Jenna signed the arrival of Emma and Jasmin.

“Sorry, to interrupt, but we finished our tour, and Emma here doesn’t really know where my trailer is, so we just came in to ask for help?” Jasmin said with too big of a smile to be telling the truth. Emma knew for a fact she was talking bullshit, as her trailer was one of the first places, she has shown to her. Yet all she could do was blink like fish, as you slowly turned on your heel towards them.

Emma felt like a mouse on the Mars; breathless and small. The Y/N was standing before her, sunglasses in hair, wearing a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath, black denims and combat boots completing your outfit. You were gorgeous, your sparkling eyes and light-brown, shoulder-blade length hair highlighting your face. If she could look away from you, she could have seen her friend throwing a knowing smile at her from across the room, but she couldn’t take her eyes of your perfect features.

“No problem at all” Jenna said reassuringly. “We were just discussing Y/N’s role as Enid’s love interest. Come, I’ll show you to your trailer. It’s so good to see you again! How was your flight?” she asked, like she didn’t just drop a bomb in the room.

You seemed to slightly flinch at her statement. Emma’s heart skipped a beat. Jasmin smiled and put an arm around Jenna, both leaving the room, leaving you and a breathless Emma inside.

After staring at each other for a while, you cleared your throat and greeted her. “Hi” your voice was uncertain, shy even. Not what she expected from you. “I’m- “

“Y/N, yes. Hi, I’m-“

“Emma” you gulped. “Yes. Huge fan here” you gestured at yourself, a weak smile appearing on your lips. Why did they have to be so full and red?

Emma’s heart fluttered at your words. “Really? Me too!” she smiled back. “I mean, of you. Not me, that would be a little egotistical, wouldn’t it? Hilarious even” she laughed to herself. “You’ve been amazing in Dune!”

You finally, genuinely smiled at the mention of the film. “Yeah, that was one of my favourites to shoot. I’ve read the books like a million times before, and when I got asked to play, there was no chance I would turn it down.”

“’He, who controls the spice controls the universe’” Emma quoted, with a deep voice imitating the books. “Shame this line didn’t make it into the movie…”

“Right?!” you exclaimed. “I was protesting for like three weeks for them to add it, but they denied me! It’s one of the most important quotes and they just cut it! I was outraged” you pouted.

Time flew by as you two raved about the movie and the books, but soon the subject changed to other interests of you and her. As it turned out, you played the drums, and were pretty good at it. After nagging you for a bit, you finally caved in and showed her some of the voice recording you made for yourself, and you really impressed her.

“Have you been shown around yet?” Emma asked, little more hopeful than what she wanted to admit to herself. “The majority of the staff is still being hired, so I volunteered to show new actors around.”

“Please, go ahead!” you smiled at her. “The moment I got here, Tim asked for me and Jenna to hold a meeting. Then he left me and her here, and that’s when you jumped us, so no, I haven’t been shown around yet.”

“Did Jenna say what the number of your trailer is?”

“Yes, I’m in number eleven.”

Oh god. “So, you’re the one who stole my number!” Emma exclaimed. “No worries, I’ll forgive you this once. Also, I’m in the trailer next to it, so we’ll be neighbours.” You beamed at her words. Without thinking, she put an arm around your shoulder as she started to lead you out, but the moment she noticed what she had done, the smaller girl retracked her hand. “Sorry! I’m just- “

“No need to apologize” you settled her. “I don’t mind.”

Emma just glared at you for a moment, butterflies erupting in her stomach at your words. Then she realized she was supposed to show you around, and started the tour once again, her hand finding it’s way back to your shoulder.

-------

It took less than a week to hire the staff, and for everyone to arrive at set. During this short duration Emma and you quickly grew closer, a deep friendship blossoming between you two. Daily banter and hanging out instantly became normal, as you two met up every day. Emma made sure to introduce you to everyone on set who arrived.

Not long after, shooting started and just as last time, it was hard. Everyone swiftly realized that these seven months are going to be just as demanding as the last eight, if not even more so. After the first two weeks, Emma already felt exhausted by work, her only consolation being the nights spent together with you. It became regular for you to come over to her place, and discuss what had happened that day, sometimes putting on a movie in the background.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she started falling. Not even lightly, but blindly and deeply stumbling into the pit that you resembled. Your tinkling laugh, making her laugh with you every time, your bright smile filling her world, giving purpose for waking up every day. The softest touch from you made her day, and they weren’t even rare.

Jasmin quickly caught on and started teasing her about it. With Jenna having to attend a lot of managing meetings they couldn’t meet that much, but the curly haired woman quickly filled the space left by her. She became one of Emma’s closest friends, beside you, of course.

As the weeks passed, the whole cast got back to its last year traditions; late night parties, getting drunk as hell, and blaring some music in the background. At first, you were glued to Emma’s side, but as time passed you slowly became comfortable with everyone around set.

“Spin!” everybody chanted, as Jasmin sat her phone back down behind her after she texted her ex that she misses her. “Spin! Spin! Spin!”

Two months into shooting Georgie was the one to hold the weekly party night. Once he has shown everyone around, the enjoyments started. Alcohol was quickly brought forth and everyone eased their minds.

Now you were comfortably sat beside Emma, raising your fist as you chanted with everyone. You were in an oversized black sweater, and shorts. Your eyes sparkled with joy, and you were gleaming with the night’s energy. Emma lowered her voice as she took you in, wanting to burn this memory into her brain. You couldn’t be more beautiful.

The crowd cheered as Jasmin spined the empty vodka bottle. As you did as well, Emma reevaluated her last thought; you were even more beautiful now. The glass clattered slower and slower, and soon, it stopped pointing at…

“Y/N!” Jasmin smiled mischievously, as if she was looking upon her pray. “Truth or dare?”

Emma could feel you stiffen beside her a little, but you quickly composed yourself, and looked back upon her, your eyes taunting her to do her worst. “Truth” you said, chin raised high.

“Is it true, you realised you aren’t straight after your kiss scene with Jenna?” she asked immediately after. Emma felt her heart clench, and her breath catch in her throat. She looked around the room, and saw the brunette blushing, whilst the others either chuckled or woo-d at the question. Wait, you weren’t straight?!

You narrowed your eyes at the other actress, then sighed in defeat. You took a shot before answering, that was laying beside you at the floor. “Yes” you admitted.

“Was it because-“

“One, question, miss” you cut her off, voice low as you grabbed the bottle and spun it. Everybody laughed. Except Emma.

She still couldn’t get over the fact you weren’t straight.

Yet a pesky thought took root in her brain. Did you have a thing for Jenna? You came out right after your movie with her made it into the theatres, and you haven’t dated anyone since. At least not publicly.

After a few rounds, the game came to an end. Everyone was either tired, drunk, or already asleep. There was no way, adequate work could be done the next day.

You and Emma stumbled to your trailer together, talking and laughing. Originally Jasmin and Hunter were also with you but had already made it to their trailer. The departing woman threw Emma a knowing smile and a wink when she left.

Even though your trailers were next to each other, Emma made sure to walk you the rest of the way. She watched you fumbling with your keys and open the door. She gave you a goodbye hug, and turned around to leave, when she felt your hand grab her.

“Nuh-uh! You’re staying here. Too dangerous for you to make it to your own” you said and tugged her inwards.

“Y/N” she laughed but complied to your pull. “Mine’s literally next door!”

“Don’t care.”

So, there she was, at your place not really knowing what to do. Usually by this time, you departed from one-another to make it to your own bed without collapsing on the floor.

“Isn’t it a bit too late for a movie?” she asked, when she saw you preparing popcorn. Oh, how she hated herself for asking this.

“You got somewhere to be?” you asked back jokingly and threw you the remote control. “Just pick something! I’ll be there in a sec.”

She did as she was told. As the movie started, she made herself comfortable at the end of the couch, leaving you space beside her. Yet, the movie didn’t really concern her that much, more the thoughts of you and Jenna. The internet was exploding with shipping you and her after the movie came out, and Emma couldn’t deny the chemistry that seemed between the two of you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked as you slumped down next to Emma on the couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She ignored how this simple act of yours made butterflies erupt in her stomach.

“I-“ she started sheepishly, as a child caught during ice cream robbery. You weren’t helping either, with your cute, unwavering gaze. “Erm. Nothing really” she managed to say. You looked at her for a few more seconds, then turned to face the screen.

After a few minutes, you snuggled yourself into Emma, which made her breath get caught, and the butterflies return. She knew she was blushing too, and thanked the gods silently, that you couldn’t see her face.

“So, what’s up with you and Jasmin?” you asked, nonchalantly.

Emma furrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you two are very close, and she always makes you laugh…” you sounded unsure and hesitant, which was very new to Emma, coming from you.

“We’re just friends if that’s what you mean” she answered. To your nod, she felt like it was her time to ask, yet she felt like she wouldn’t like the answer. Her heart clenched at the thought. “What about you?” she asked anyway. “Do… you like anyone?”

You fell silent for a moment. Emma started panicking a little, thinking she crossed a line, until you spoke. “I’m just not sure if they like me back…” your voice was weak, and fearful.

Before she got a hold of herself, the next question rolled out. “Is it Jenna?” You stiffened in her hold, and she mentally facepalmed herself. Of course, it was Jenna. Who else would it be? She felt pain in her chest at the thought of you and her together, yet the thought of you being happy, lessened it. Even if only a little. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

You sit up so you can look at her, and she already misses the contact. There is something in your eyes she can’t decipher. But then you simply thank her and lean back into her. She feels strange. She feels bad. She knows she has no right for her heart to clench this painfully. Yet it does.

-----

“What’s with you?” Jasmin looked at Emma curiously.

She was playing her part perfectly, and the now blonde-haired woman had to admit; she looked pretty swell in the Nevermore uniform. Emma knew her lines, she had practised them all the night before, yet the words just wouldn’t come to her. She was just as distracted as Enid was in this scene if not even more so, and there was a good reason for it.

You were standing behind cover with Jenna, talking, laughing, and enjoying your time with her. Ever since the night where she figured out who you were crushing over, she had done a lot to help you. She ignored the part of her which violently wanted to stop her from doing so, but it got harder and harder. Her solution in the last couple weeks was to avoid you as much as possible. It got even harder when she would need to do her scenes with you, as shooting got to the part where Lilith and Enid, Lillith being the character you were playing, got closer and closer to one another. It wasn’t long until the kiss scene and Emma was freaking out.

It wasn’t like you didn’t notice her distancing herself from you, but Emma was just too scared to let you close again. She felt like, the moment you confront her, she would combust and confess everything immediately, so she did everything in her power, to avoid it, even if she knew it wouldn’t be possible for long. She got up earlier, to avoid you and even though it pained her more than anything, she cut of the movie nights and talking with you.

Yet now, as she was standing on set and you were off talking and enjoying yourself with Jenna, she couldn’t help but feel her stomach churning in uncomfortable and unpleasurable ways. She felt both guilty and helpless against it.

“Cut” Tim said a little disappointedly. “Emma, as she said” he continued as he pointed at Jasmin. “What’s whit you? You can’t concentrate, and we can’t shoot a goddamn scene with you.” It was true. She had been like this for almost three to four days now, but only became apparent now, as shooting got to the parts where she was in the main picture.

“Sorry, I’m just really over my head with a few things.”

“Take the day off” he said with a wave of his hand.

“No- But- I can do it, I promise!”

“It’s not that you can’t, it’s that I don’t want you to. You clearly need to sort things out.”

“But-” Emma started protesting, but Tim cut her off.

“Just go!”

Emma sighed in defeat and slumped out the scene. Now she had to deal with her thoughts about you. Great. Just great.

As Emma was walking out, she saw a glimpse of you and immediately changed her direction. She chose the back door exit instead and lengthened her steps. She felt you behind her, but before you could catch up to her, she was out.

Emma stayed in her trailer all day. She felt helpless against being this distracted, helpless against what you made her feel. She felt her heart clench every time you popped in her mind, which was almost constantly. The now familiar feeling of her stomach churning returned, and accompanied her all day, making her even more miserable.

Her absence didn’t go unnoticed. Jasmin, Hunter, Johnna, and Naomi all went to check up on her, but she sent them all away. She couldn’t deal with company right now. She didn’t want to break down before them which she felt impossibly close to.

Then sheknocked. “Hey, Emma” Jenna’s soft voice could be heard from the door. “Please let me in! I just want to talk.”

Emma’s heart clenched even more if that was possible. She hadn’t been nice with Jenna. Not that she was rude, but she avoided her even more than you. She loved Jenna, she really did, but the last couple weeks Emma wished she would just disappear. She knew she had no right to do so. She didn’t want to do so. Yet she did.

“Has someone done something wrong?” the brunette continued. Emma wanted to hug her so badly, tell her no, but she stopped herself. Why did she stop herself? “You’ve been distancing yourself from us and we miss you! I miss you…” her voice was now sorrowful. It broke Emma’s heart. “Have I done something? If-“

The older woman abruptly opened the door and pulled the startled woman into a hug. “No” she spoke, sounding a little scratchy. “It’s not you. It’s me.” Emma felt Jenna returning the hug.

“What’s with you?” the smaller woman asked softly as she stepped one step back.

“It’s-“ she started but forgot what she wanted to say the moment she saw someone behind Jenna. The moment she saw you. “Y/N” she breathed out unconsciously.

Jenna raised a brow. “Y/N?” she asked confused but wearing a smug smile. When she noticed Emma wasn’t paying attention to her anymore, she turned around and her smile grew even larger. “Oh, I see. Well, I’m going to leave you two some space, but don’t think you got out of explaining yourself Myers” she said jokingly and patted her friend’s shoulder. Before walking off, she threw a last smile towards the older actress, and whispered; “Go get her.”

Emma blinked in confusion a few times at the departing Jenna, but as you got closer she shifted her attention towards you. Suddenly, she became hyper aware of her surroundings; of how chilly the air was, how the gathering dark veil clouded the sky. Of how gorgeous you were.

She just stood there, rooted to the ground, speechless and gaping as you quickly got closer. Her back was against her trailer door, and the thought of reaching for the doorknob crossed her mind, but she was frozen in place.

“Emma” you said quietly, as if not believing the word that left your mouth.

“Y/N” Emma said again in a similar tone.

“I-“ you started shy, and unsure. “I wanted to apologize.”

Emma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “For what?”

“For being too much, for dumping all my mental problems on you, for…” and you just started ranting about all that you’ve done while pacing up and down before her. Emma disagreed with all your statements. You were never too much, your problems never bothered her. She was sure the rest was nonsense as well, but she couldn’t comprehend the words coming out of you. It got all faint as she took in your presence again, felt your smell again could hear your voice again. You were perfect. How could she have done what she had done? It all seemed so pointless, so stupid. How could she be so stupid?

She mindlessly grabbed your arm and stopped you in your tracks. You immediately shut up and looked at her, eyes full of hope and curiosity. Emma opened her mouth, then shut it. No words seemed good enough, worthy enough of you. As she was searching for words, her eyes locked with yours, and her breath caught in her throat. She felt she could spend all her life looking into the depths of them. She wouldn’t mind getting lost in them for all eternity if it would mean you were close to her.

“I’m falling for you.” There it was. She broke. When she recognized what she’d done, it was already too late. She said it out loud. Then she realised how close you were, your face only inches away from hers. “You have nothing to apologize for. I was the fool, I-“

Your lips shut her up. They were so soft, so perfect. More than what she could ever dream for. They tasted like cherry, a taste she could feel herself become addicted to. Her hands drew you closer, pressing your body against hers. The world seemed to disappear between the two of you as you lost yourselves in one-another. Nothing mattered. Just you, moving against her, movements fully synchronized.

“I’m falling for you too” you said and chuckled once you needed to come up for air. Your foreheads were pressed against each other, her hands caressing your cheek. “Damn it! I should have confessed before you.”

“Just shut up and kiss me again” Emma breathed out chuckling as well.

The kiss was interrupted by Jasmin’s voice from next to you. “If you lovebirds are done peppering, we have a smaller party today!” she said.

“Jesus don’t do that ever again!” Emma exclaimed. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me for it!” she grinned deviously. “Now chop-chop! Oh, I will also need the two of you to do that again before everyone.”

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“Well, my dear lovely future wife-of-my-bestie, I have to prove somehow, that half the cast owes me money, don’t I?”

“You betted on us?”

“Since dawn of time! Gawd, if I don’t send Y/N after Jenna, I would have slipped out of the time zone!” she then turned around and proceeded towards today’s party location. “I can’t believe I almost lost money because these two blind doves couldn’t find each other. Man, it sure as hell took them long…” her rant went on, but she fortunately got out of hearing distance.

You chuckled in Emma’s arms and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Should we help a fellow friend out?”

“I’m thinking we should let her lose.”

“You think you can stop yourself from kissing me every five minutes from now on?” you asked grinning.

Even though she knew you knew the answer, she replied. “No.”

[fencecollapsed]

I love musical theater. I may not be a theater kid stereotype, but I always found it as an interesting way to tell a story. But despite the fact I personally don’t think it’s that big of a deal, a lot of my relatives seem to take me as “the musical girl”. My mother made my 17th birthday musical themed. A lot of my Christmas presents were musical related, I’m sure you’d get it. A couple of weeks back though, my cousin in Michigan, who I don’t really know, suddenly sent me a DVD with blue sharpie on it, simply reading “The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals” in all capital letters due to how much of a mouthful that name is, I’m going to refer to it as TGWDLM for the rest of this. The DVD itself was rather normal looking. She didn’t send me the box it came in, which is probably the reason why it was labeled in sharpie, cause without it, god knows what it could be. It could be a musical or a gore video, so thanks to her for that.

As for the contents... Well, it was a Pro-shot of a musical! The story was about a man named Paul, a guy who... didn’t like musicals! The opening song seems to portray this as a huge deal but to be honest, it isn’t. One day, on the opening night of a Mamma Mia! production in the real-life ghost town of Hatchetfield, Michigan (but populated, obivously), a meteor hits, carrying alien spores of a musical hivemind. One interesting fact is that the zombies are the only ones who sing, and dear god, some of their songs are so camp, but I guess that’s the joke. Also, I can definitely see an influence from Invasion of The Body Snatchers, hell, they even reference it. The musical itself had more laughs than scares for me, but the curtain call gave me fucking chills. The unusual parts though, come from not the musical itself, but what comes after it. There’s a behind-the-scenes, with a lot of content. There were audition tapes, director's commentary, easter eggs... I personally found it as fascinating as the musical itself! There was some mentions of a earlier version of the script, with some interesting parts that weren’t in the original, for example; Paul, Ted, Bill, and Charlotte all worked at a review site similar to IGN or Buzzfeed, or that Alice, in a strange trance, spouts out a bible quote. I began to feel like these random people, from an obscure theater company, were people I knew. But as fun as the behind the scenes are, that is not why I’m here. After the behind-the-scenes, there was just... A black screen. For like, 4 or 3 minutes… Then a blue screen with white text, with a font that looks like those fonts in analog horror, with one word. “APOTHEOSIS”.

There’s more after this too. The following is a very different feeling compared to the behind-the-scenes. It appears to be the night the pro-shot was recorded. It shows footage of the curtain call, when Emma was dragged backstage. Then, it cuts to security footage backstage. Immediately Emma’s actress, who I think I’ll just call Lauren, since that’s her real name, goes out of character. The others don’t let go of her, instead ejecting her out of the crowd. She lands on her ass and says “Ow.” in a tone that says “What the fuck dude? Why’d you throw me?”. The others are silent. Lauren gets up and after a moment looking at the others, decides to take off her bandage, revealing a real scar underneath. Lauren seems unsettled by this, but it’s made worse when everyone else approaches her, talking to her as if she IS Emma Perkins, despite her insistence. They then got closer, and closer. Lauren tried to back away, but they got closer. Eventually, Lauren was completely surrounded, and they... I... I can’t say it. I just can’t. All I’ll say is that audience members found the room covered in blood and mysterious blue goo. The blue screen appears again, the text now saying “THEIR RETELLING SUCKED ANYWAYS.”

After whatever the fuck that was, I kinda had to dig deeper? I had this mix of morbid fascination, horror, and an urge to somehow bring all this to light. Well... That and how at first I assumed it was a performance act, only to find out via a google search that it was all real, Lauren Lopez was presumed dead, and the rest of the cast are missing to this day.

So I talked to people who were at the closing night show. When it was recorded. They reported being genuinely convinced in some segments, like when Emma quote unquote “Looked at Ted’s eyes in horror, like she saw nothing there” and praised the “practical effects”. They also said that the few who lingered after the curtain call heard screaming. Those who checked backstage saw... Well, you know.

I didn’t find much about it though. Only this weird cult website when searching for random tag words related to the musical. It was talking about “His singular voice” or whatever and was saying that, like, all voices needed to be eradicated, for His is the only one that should exist, or whatever. Weirdly enough, there was musical theming in there. And... A page about the musical. I can vaguely recall the contents but it’s really hard to. It had a synopsis of the musical kinda biased in the favor of the zombies, with the implications that He caused the musical apocalypse over there. Me and my friends looked at the site once in a discord call and laughed at it. But then I found the actors' faces and how they all were brought to an “apotheosis”. Like... Like in the fucking musical.

It was just a rabbit hole I found myself in at the end of the day though. I easily tucked it into the back of my brain and went on with my life. But then stuff started getting weird. With me, I think. I’ve been more scatterbrained than usual, prone to zoning out for long stretches of time, wandering off conversations to talk about something else entirely, and I’m beginning to hate the sound of other people’s voices and I don’t know why, I was never a social butterfly but I didn’t hate other people talking... Everyday when I brush my teeth I notice my eyes getting... Bluer? I don’t know how, but my eyes have gone to a dark brown, to a light brown, to a hazel, to green, and now it’s getting closer and closer to blue. My friends online have been safe at the time from my sudden hatred of other voices but I can’t really go on voice chats anymore. And my fixation on musicals has only grown as of late. I can’t help but fight the urge to spontaneously sing a show-tune. I hate it.

I’d try to see a psychiatrist or something but I can’t bear to hear another voice, it’s so grating. And I know I should just grin and bear it but the last time I tried that I yelled at them. Not many people like me much anymore. I see why, I must’ve become an asshole to them, but they don’t get it. My eyes have become blue by now, and I think it’s glowing too.

I can’t help but play the songs over and over. I called it camp but I think it’s growing on me. I like Let It Out the most. I relate to Paul a lot right now. And then I noticed a split second shot of... His actor... Being... I can’t say it. I had to vomit. Why wouldn’t I? That was so fucking disgusting. And when I puked, I froze pale at what I just pushed out of my body.

It was blue, viscous sludge. It felt disgusting looking at it, even worse when you hold it. It smelled like ammonia. I ran out of the bathroom. I couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. And that’s when I decided to write this. I’m scared, to be honest, who wouldn’t be? I’ll most likely either be dead and have my corpse puppeteered, or go missing, for another poor soul to inevitably find the DVD and end up like me. I can hear the chimes and hymns of The Singular Voice. I know He wants me to become one with Him. He says it’s inevitable for me. And what choice do I have in the matter anymore?

I’m sorry, I lost.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Beauty and the Beast's Last Theater - Keith Howell (part 1/4)

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

Mireille: Brother and Emma are going to be on stage?!

Today, I was taking part in one of my everyday pleasures: having tea with Prince Keith and Mireille.

Mireille was sipping her tea, but then shot up to her feet at the unexpected news.

Prince Keith and I had a similar reaction yesterday.

Mireille: When was this decided?!

Keith: Yesterday. While having dinner with Sonia, an author who I owe a lot to, had asked.

Mireille: The author herself did, huh…But why you two and not actors?

Keith: Well…

~~ Flashback ~~

It came up while we were enjoying some after-dinner tea.

Sonia: My new book's become quite popular, so we decided to have a special one night only performance.

Emma: Congratulations! I can’t wait to see it being performed on stage.

Keith: The new book’s about a spirit of a large tree who falls in love with a prince, dons a magic robe of visibility, and goes to seek out the prince for a moment of freedom and happiness.

(It’s a sad story, but those moments of happiness warmed my heart whenever I read it…)

Keith: I especially liked the last scene where the two desperately tried to convey their feelings for each other and have reread it several times. 

Emma: You always take your time when reading that scene.

Keith: Huh, really?! I wasn’t aware…I’m so embarrassed. But hearing how you notice those little things about me makes me happy.

He gave me a soft smile with red dusting his cheeks.

It was my favorite look on him and made my heart race with happiness.

(It’s like he doesn’t know he’s hit me with a counter attack)

Keith: Emma and I love your work, so we’ll definitely go see the performance.

Sonia: I’m happy to hear how much you enjoyed it, both as an author and as a friend. Actually, the script’s already complete.

With a beautiful smile that’d even charm the same sex, Sonia handed the both of us a script.

(Since she handed us copies of the script, that means we can look at it, right?)

Prince Keith and I both looked at each other, and then at Sonia with hope in our eyes.

Sonia: Hehe, you two always have the cutest reactions. Go ahead and take a look.

Keith and Emma: Thank you…!

Holding back my excitement, I flipped open the script and found a list of characters and actors.

My hands immediately froze on the spot.

I blinked my eyes to make sure that I wasn’t seeing things, but the text remained the same.

(Weird…Prince Keith and my name are on here)

Prince Keith and I looked at each other again, and then at Sonia in confusion.

Sonia: To be honest, the protagonists in this work were modeled after you two.

Keith: After Emma and I…?

(I did notice how the prince was gentle, yet strong, and a little awkward)

(Every time I turned a page, I thought about how cute and cool he was…)

(He really was modeled after Prince Keith)

Learning the secrets behind how the book was produced had me feeling more embarrassed rather than happy or surprised.

Sonia: When I mentioned it to the stage director, he enthusiastically said, “I want them to play those roles.”

Keith and Emma: …

(Is this why Sonia invited us over for dinner…)

Sonia: Why not enjoy the play as its actors instead of from the audience?

Keith and Emma: Huh…?!

~~ End flashback ~~

(After that, Prince Keith tried to politely refuse, but was no match for her enthusiastic pleas…)

Incidentally, I was also no help at all.

When my favorite author asks for help with promoting her work, of course I’m going to agree to it.

Mireille: As expected from Sonia. She’s able to flawlessly deal with my pushover of a brother. 

Keith: …I’m not happy about that.

Mireille: Anyway, as our sister, I’ll be really happy to see you two on stage. We need to hold on to these memories. I’ll have Jade’s painters capture every second!

Emma: J-just one is enough…

Keith: No, just one won’t be enough for Emma’s first performance. But doing every second would make the painters collapse, so why not one per scene?

Mireille: That’s true. Then, if we go with your suggestion, how many painters will we need—

(Hopefully this won’t turn into some major incident…?)

A cup of tea in hand and eyes sparkling as bright as the sun filtering into the conservatory, Mireille started making plans.

I found myself smiling at how much she reminded me of Prince Keith when he was talking about plants.

(Since I get to see Mireille full of energy, this is fine)

Keith: …

Emma: Is something wrong, Prince Keith?

Keith: Ah, um…

Prince Keith’s eyes shifted from side to side before looking at me.

Keith: Sorry for bothering you.

(Because he wasn’t able to turn down the stage performance?)

I had heard it on the carriage home, but it must have slipped out again due to some lingering guilt.

I shook my head.

Emma: I didn’t turn Sonia down, so please don’t apologize. While it will be my first time on stage and I am feeling nervous about it, I’m glad I get to be involved with a work I love. More importantly, I’m looking forward to this once in a lifetime opportunity to be on stage with you. Let’s do our best to make this performance a huge success!

When I pumped my fists, Prince Keith’s brown turned downward and he gave a slight nod.

Keith: …Yeah. Thanks, Emma.

His apologetic expression was in some way different from the one before.

When Mireille noticed something was off, she clapped her hands together as if she remembered something. Her eyes were still sparkling.

Mireille: Have you two done a read-through of the script yet?

Emma: We were planning on doing that later.

Mireille: Is that so?! Then do you mind if I hear a little bit of it?

Emma: I don’t mind, but…

Keith: Ah……yeah, it’s fine.

Mireille: Yay! Thank you.

(Why does something feel off)

His eyes had wavered and there was some trembling in his voice, but he returned to his usual calm look when took the script from Liam.

Keith: Let’s start from the beginning.

Emma: Okay, it’s when you first meet the heroine’s spirit.

I flipped open the script and looked over the exchange between the prince and the spirit.

The story opened with the prince’s line.

Keith: …

The only sound that could be heard was water gently flowing in the conservatory, and with a deep breath, Prince Keith looked down at his script.

And then—

--

~~ Keith’s inner world ~~

Alter!Keith: Hey, how long are you gonna hug your knees and mope around for?

[uluvjay]

What you need- J. Hughes

Gif by babydollmarauders

Part two of Illicit Affairs..

Warnings: Allusions/mentions to sex, cursing, kissing, pet names, mentioning of drugs(in a club setting!)

Summery: it’s been a few months since you ended things with Jack and he’s a bit surprised about something new in your life but doesn’t let it stop him ;)

Kinda Inspired by “What you need” by The Weekend?

—

Four months..that’s how long it’s been since you’ve seen Jack, you ended things with him towards the end of the season and had spent the whole summer back home with friends and family. You had heard a little about him from Dawson and some of the other guys you were close with, Dawson had told you that Jack had come clean to everyone about your situation so they all understood why you stopped going out with them if He was there.

From what you understood him and Stella were actually still together and he seemed happy. You were a little upset At first when Dawson told you Jack accompanied him and his girlfriend Emma on a couples trip, you assumed Stella had gone as well. However you didn’t dwell on those feelings long as you had met someone over the summer.

Bradley, you guys had met at work not to long after you and Jack parted ways and it just so happened that his dad owns the company you work for which made you hesitant when he first asked you out on a date but once you finally agreed it was one of the best decisions you’ve made in a while. He took you to a beautiful restaurant in downtown jersey, bought you a bouquet of roses and paid for everything but let you tip since you insisted.

After the fourth date he asked you to be his girlfriend and you’ve been dating since, 2 and a half months and counting. You were currently packing your bags to head back to jersey so you could go back to working in the building. You enjoyed being home for a little but you could only take so much of your family and being cooped up in the house while working.

“Yo yo” You heard as there was a knock on your childhood bedroom door, you looked over seeing Dawson. “Hey Daws, what’s up?” You asked. “Nothing just checking if your almost done, we have to head to the airport soon” he replied, you guys had decided to fly back to jersey together. Bradly had left a few days ago to go help his dad with some stuff for the company.

“Yeah just have to zip this and pack my carryon and I’m all set” you told him “okay sounds good” he replied grabbing one of your suitcases and taking it downstairs with him.

—

You’d been home just about a week when you got a text from Nico inviting you to his welcome home dinner him and his girlfriend Lia were hosting in their new home, they both mentioned they were excited to meet your mystery man.

“Hey babe! Can u come here for a minute?”You called out to Bradley from the kitchen

“What’s up?” He asked coming in

“Would you like to come to my friend Nicos welcome back dinner with me tonight? He wants to meet you” you asked him

“Isn’t that the captain of the team?” He asked with a weird look on his face. “I thought you were only friends with Dawson”

“We’ll Dawsons my best friend and their his so I’m good friends with a few of the guys, Nico and his girlfriend bought their first home so they’re doing a dinner” you explained seeing his face immediately change at the mention of Lia

“Oh okay yeah I’ll come” he said rounding your island and giving you a kiss on the head, “okay sounds good I’ll let them know”.

—

You pulled into the couples long driveway, seeing Nico welcoming Miles in. As you guys approached the door Lia came out allowing you guys to squeeze each other in a tight hug. You were good friends with most of the girlfriends despite not being a Wag.

“Hi guys! This is beautiful” you said as you pulled away from Lia giving Nico a side hug.

“Yeah my bank account wasn’t looking to beautiful after telling her she could buy whatever decorations she wanted” Nico said with a light laugh causing Lia to elbow him.

“And who’s this?” Lia said nudging her head behind you at Bradley who was holding the wine basket you had brought. “Oh! Lia, Nico meet my boyfriend Bradley, Bradley meet Nico and Lia” you said stepping to the side so he could come closer.

“Omg you’re the mysterious boyfriend Dawson and em told us about!!” Lia said shaking his extended hand. “Nice to meet you” Nico said shaking his hand.

“You guys as well, really a beautiful home you have” Bradley replied with a smile. “Thank you! Now come on in” Lia said leading you both in.

Upon walking into the massive home that was even more beautiful on the inside you were pulled into a few hugs from some of the guys and girlfriends.

As you left Bradley with Nico and Lia to go put the wine basket in the kitchen following the directions they gave, you slammed right into a chest at the entrance but a familiar set of hands grabbed your waist to steady you. 

You both stood there not saying anything or moving, you couldn’t help but scan him noticing the haircut he had that made him look somehow even hotter, his nice tan, and the slight sparkle in his eyes. He looked good..happy, and a little to attractive.

“Hi” he said lowly, “Hi J” you replied just as low

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, “um, Nico and Lia invited me. What about you?”

“Uh kinda on the team, had no choice” he said with a smile on his face, one that you were sad to admit you missed. “Right-sorry I don’t know why I asked that” you said looking down as you felt your cheeks getting hot, noticing his hands were still on your waist.

You stepped back a little letting them fall getting upset with yourself that you immediately missed their familiar warmth. “Um I gotta put this on the counter” you said lifting the basket and showing him. “Oh yeah sorry I’m blocking you” he replied his cheeks getting red as well.

He stepped aside but followed you right in, you could feel his eyes on you as you sat the basket on the counter. “How was your summer?” You decided to ask instead of standing in the slightly awkward silence.

“Good! Uh trained a lot with Lukey and Quinn, was out on the boat a lot, took a few trips; one with Pk and Quinn, one with Dawson and Emma, one with the fam” he said.

“Sounds fun, I know you love spending time with family” you said. “Yeah I miss them a lot during the season, what about you? How was your summ-” he started but got cut off by a voice he didn’t know. “Baby!?” You heard Bradley call out your eyes getting wide.

“In here!” You replied as he rounded the corner, you looked at Jack who was looking back and forth between you and Bradley. “Who’s this?” Bradley asked coming to your side and pointing at Jack.

“This is Jack! He’s a good friend. Jack meet my boyfriend Bradley” you said making eye contact with the center. You noticed the look in his eyes but couldn’t place what it was. Was it hurt?, disappointment?, you weren’t sure but you knew he didn’t like the words that had just come out of your mouth. He had the same look you were sure you did all those months ago at the club when he introduced you to Stella.

“What’s up man” Jack replied with a small wave, “well squish it was nice catching up but I’m gonna go bother the boys. Brad nice meeting you”, “It’s Bradley” your boyfriend replied.

“Yeah Bradley, nice meeting you man” he said walking out. You knew he was in one of his moods and did it on purpose also why he called you a nickname usually only used in private.

“What’s with Squish?” Bradley asked, you didn’t know what to say, Jack had started calling you that after a drunken night where he told you your ass was squishy in between giggles. “Uh it’s something some of them call me, I got drunk one time and told Jack he looked squishy so everyone started calling me it to mess with me” you said making up a complete lie knowing nobody even knew about the nickname.

“Oh okay” he replied looking a little confused.

—

You and Jack didn’t speak for the rest of the night you seen one another of course but no words shared. You and Bradley had recently celebrated three months and the hockey season was officially starting next week.

You were currently on the way home from work when a call rang through your Bluetooth and your car announced it was Dawson. “Hello” you answered.

“Hey you busy?”he asked, “nope I’m on my way home from work, what’s up?” You replied.

“I was just calling to see if my amazing, beautiful, wonderful, talen-” he started but you cut him off. “What do you want Dawson?” you said with a laugh. “K you got me, I was just wondering if you wanted to come out tonight it’s our last Friday night out before the season”

“Sure” you said. “Wait, what? That’s it? I don’t have to beg?” He asked a little shocked. “No I could use a night out” you said shrugging you shoulders, “what’s it gonna hurt? I’m off the rest of the weekend anyway”.

—

Oh boy were you wrong, you were taking your words back this night was hurting. You wore new heels Bradley got you that were destroying your feet, Lia was the only other girl that come out and she and Nico had left a little over an hour ago leaving you with a bunch of drunk idiots, and while you had brought Bradley he disappeared 30 minutes ago to the bathroom and still hadn’t been back, not to mention you ex situation-ship was lurking around here somewhere.

As if right on cue the center slid into the booth next to you. “You okay? You look ready to go home” he said. “That’s because I am” you said with a tired laugh. “Why don’t you go home? I’ve hardly had anything to drink I can watch these guys” he said looking down at you right in your eyes.

God his eyes. They were so damn pretty and did so many things to you, so did those lips that were in a slight smile. You didn’t know if it was the boring techno blaring through the speakers, how tired you were, or your third cranberry vodka of the night but you scooted closer to Jack and put your head on his shoulder.

“Where’s Brad?” He asked noticing he hadn’t seen him in a while. “Said he was going to the bathroom but hasn’t been back” you replied dryly not even caring to correct him. “I wanted to come have fun tonight but Lia left, and he disappeared” you said kinda upset that you were having a bad night. “Wanna go dance?” He asked

“What? J you hate dancing” you said sitting up quickly. He laughed loudly “I know but you said you came out to have fun so let’s go have fun” he stood up extending his hand out to you. You looked at it and then up to his face where he raised an eyebrow at you. “You know what? Fuck it” you said taking his hand. “Good girl” he said with a smirk pulling you to the dance floor.

You couldn’t help but immediately get butterflies in your lower stomach and feel a dampness between your legs. He only every said that to you while you were on top of him and nobody had spoke to you like that since him. It didn’t help that he was looking extremely good tonight and as soon as you got on the floor the music changed and What you need by The Weekend started playing.

“Shit, cmon we can go back to the booth their not playing dancing music anymore” he said going to turn around but you stopped him. “No” you said. “No?” He questioned “no” you confirmed pulling him to the dance floor this time.

You didn’t know why you were doing this, Yeah you liked Bradley a lot and he treated you great and had the qualities you wanted in a guy but He wasn’t Jack. It was like you needed Jack, its like you need him to take you home and throw you on his bed and spend all night taking care of your body.

He’s what you want, he’s what you want, I’m what you need, what you need, what you need

As the lyrics blasted through the speakers you felt him pull your back flushed against his chest, run his fingers up your arms, up to your collarbone, and up your throat till he finally made it to your throat and tilted your head back.

“Miss you so much baby, you just don’t understand. Feeling your body next to mine, taking care of this beautiful fucking body” he whispered in your ear. “Jack” you whined out “we..we can’t” you were trying your best but the way his fingers were running so innocently yet so devilish across your skin that was showing thanks to your dress was making you melt. 

I got everything you want with me, I do everything he does times three, and he don’t gotta know

“Just tonight baby, he doesn’t have to know. We can get an Uber to mine right now” he said turning you around so you were facing each other. “Jack..” you were trying to think of something to say but you knew deep down you wanted him to take you home, have one last  rendezvous. “Tell me to stop and I will, I’ll go back to the table with the boys and you can go home, just say the word baby.”

You didn’t know what you were thinking, “get the boys rounded up and into Ubers and then order us one to your house. I have to use the bathroom.” You said kissing his cheek and walking off.

And i’ma love you girl, the way you need, ain’t no one gonna stop us

As you walked into the bathroom there was two people walking out of a stall. One was oddly familiar, “Bradley?” You said with a laugh, “this is where you’ve been for the past hour?”

“Baby! Y/n it was a mistake she means nothing to me” he tried but you could tell he was not on the same planet as you right now and as you looked over and seen white residue on the counter you realized how this probably started.

“We’re done Bradley this wasn’t going to work out for much longer anyways” you said Turing around and walking out.

You went and found Jack by the front doors “hey I was about to come find you, I’ll Uber will be here shortly” he said looking down at you.

You didn’t respond just grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him hard. “What was that for?” he asked with a smirk, “I don’t have to feel guilty about anything now, found Bradley after he finished a round with some rando” you told him. “Oh shit I’m sorry y/n”

“Shut up no your not” you said with a laugh, “if anything you excited because now you know we have nothing to worry about”

“Yeah..I’m not sorry” he said laughing as he got a notification on his phone “cmon our Ubers here, time for me to take you home and take care of my girl” he said throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Wait Jack, what about Stella? Aren’t you guys dating still?” You asked now realizing he was supposed to be in a relationship. “Oh god no, I broke up with her like a month after you ended things with me”

“WHAT?”

—

The next morning you woke up in the familiar expensive sheets of Jacks bed with a hand running up and down your back. As you let out a groan at the headache you had you heard Jack let out a small laugh.

“Good morning pretty girl” he said as you laid your head on his chest to look up at him. “Morning” you mumbled.

After letting you wake up and get some Tylenol and food Jack sat next to you on the couch and pulled you into his lap to face him.

“I think there’s some stuff we need to talk about” he said, “No Jack not right now I just wanna enjoy my time with you” you replied.

“That’s what I wanna talk about. I treated you like absolute shit Y/n and I didn’t notice until I lost you. God I mean I sat there and was so rude to you and you came back to me every time, you should have punched me in the face.”

“What are you trying to say Jack?” You asked getting a little worried. “I mean I’m in love with you, I don’t know why I wouldn’t admit it to myself before,I knew the way you made me feel was love, but I was to stubborn and was so stuck in my playboy mindset that I didn’t even treat you like a proper human. Then I just let you walk away? God I didn’t and still don’t deserve you”

“You love me?” You were shocked, this had to be some kinda of joke. “Yes squish I’m madly in love with you” he said with a smile

You didn’t reply to him once again just pulled him into a kiss, “I’ve been waiting for you to say that for so long. I missed you so much J” you said. “I missed you too” he said kissing you again.

“If it’s alright with you I’d like to start over, go on dates, hang out, not just sex” he said, “yeah I’d like that a lot” you told him

—

Hope you enjoyed!! I apologize for any errors I only read over this twice just wanted to get it out😭🙏🏻

[necros-writing-stuff]

Read this fic. Went feral. Decided I needed to write this dynamic in my own way so here we fucking go.

Younger AU (Eden is 19, reader is 18, they're both orphans getting ready to run away into the forest soon).

Male Eden x AFAB reader (they/them and you pronouns).

Warnings: Eden is the victim, its his POV. Dubcon and bad communication. Creampies/breeding. Mentions of past child abuse and the trauma from it. Hurt and only one of you is getting comfort (it's not Eden lmfao). Loss of virginity. My ass did not proofread. Oh, and Bailey mentions.

Every ounce of his body aches as he practically crawls up the main staircase of the orphanage. A twelve hour shift at the scrap yard will do that to you - especially when you're the young grunt everyone knows is desperate for money. Especially when half of them know that if they break him, if he quits and can't placate the caretaker with cash, they could be buying his ass for a few quid.

Eden's a risk to client health. Couldn't be charging much for him unless broken bones were the desired outcome. And the young man had heard enough rumours of illegal fighting rings to be wary of the possibility that he could be heading to one of them, instead.

Eden tries to shake the fears from his mind while cracking his aching neck. Not anymore. He can't be hurt anymore, not now that he's grown so big. The rat that runs the orphanage hasn't beat him in years because of it and any threats are pretty much empty. Toward Eden, at least.

He reaches his room and stumbles through the threshold yawning, almost missing the shape distorting his bedsheets in the dark. His heart doesn't speed up seeing it, the dark haired man barely even flinches. He already knows what it is, can already hear the sniffling whines coming from below.

Carefully, he pushes the door closed, the click of the lock what finally gets them to scramble out from the cheap polyester-blend sheets with wettened wide eyes that scream for mercy even though no harm has come to them.

Your name is soft on his lips as he holds his arms out, letting his friend fall against him as he steps closer. Pride building within himself as those wide eyes sparkle with relief even if the tears don't stop.

"They- they took Emma a-again," you hyperventilate, struggling to describe what had worked you up so badly. Little words were needed anyway.

Emma was situated in the room beside you. A good friend, a kind friend who shared whatever food she could, when she could. A friend who had barely lived through the last time she was sold.

Eden's large hand comes to the back of your head, cradling it delicately, urging it to rest against his chest as he hushes his dear friend, his sweaty work t-shirt absorbing your tears as they fell. Usually he'd rock you side-to-side, but with your legs still kneeling on the bed he instead kept up with his calming mantras, the assurances he must have muttered a thousand times.

He wasn't good with words, but he'd said these ones enough that they came naturally.

A thousand more times he'd repeat them if he had to. At least until he could get you out of here. He'd been searching for the right place out in that forest, searching hard for somewhere safe. Anywhere safe.

"They're going to take me soon," you whimper, voice cracking as your fingers claw at Eden's clothed back.

"Hey - hey, no. No they won't, I'm not going to let that happen. Me and Bailey both, yeah?"

Your pitiful eyes stare up into his, his reflection in them showing the concerned frown etched into his features. Still, the corners of your lips quiver as you continue.

"I just turned eighteen. He'll come for me soon; he'll come for me like he did everyone else."

It had always been the three of you. Him, Bailey, you. Two older brothers with their sweet little sibling they did their best to hide behind them. It had worked, so far.

You were one of the quiet ones. One of the kids who could fly under the radar, one who didn't inspire hatred from the old toad behind the desk. Unlike Eden and Bailey. The threat of being sold had been over their heads for a year - but the beatings had started way before then. Made them much less scared than the others who were moved to this wing. They were already numb to it.

Corraling you to lay back down doesn't take much effort, not when Eden kicks off his steel-toe boots and joins you on the lumpy mattress. Your head immediately rests on top of his chest, face nuzzling against his neck as he continues to let you treat him as your lifeline.

"We won't be here long enough for him to hurt you, alright? I'm going to keep you safe." He whispers it against the crown of your head, your little secret shared just between the two of you in that moment.

There's a non-committal hum from you, the sound making your lips brush softly against the column of his throat. It tickles, and the dark haired man ignores the shiver it sent down his spine. Just an accidental brush.

A silence creeps in while he holds you, your sobs calming until your breaths are mostly even though still a bit shaky. Each puff blows against his skin, tugging on his nerves and threatening another shiver to come forth. It makes his stomach heavy, knowing that you're here, you're upset, yet he's having this horrible involuntary response to the affection shared.

His mind being so lost is what makes him miss your hand inching down his chest until its cupping his half-hard cock through his pants.

Deathly silence. Silence that prickles his skin worse than your little breaths had.

"... I don't want someone taking my first time from me," your small voice strains.

It's clumsy, how your hand palms him. Clumsy how it rubs against him, the friction of his rough clothes unpleasant against his sensitive flesh. It should be unpleasant how its you doing it, yet another shiver stutters Eden's lungs and forces him to gasp for the missing air.

Those soft, sweet lips meet his throat again, playing ignorant to the scratchy stubble that has to irritate the thin skin - Eden's involuntary gasp seemingly being taken as encouragement.

The young man isn't good with words. He knows to curse out abusers. Knows to fight back, to snarl and kick and punch. You aren't an abuser. You're just scared.

"You love me, right Eden?" Reedy is how you sound as your head lifts, peering down into his green eyes you had once said you thought were a pretty shade. He hadn't believed you then.

Something should be coming out of his throat. Something like 'Yes, I love you. But not like this.' What comes out instead is a clicking noise when your palm presses down once more, the dark haired man's eyes blinking shut as an ounce of pre-cum wets his boxers.

Clothes shuffling calls for his attention, it opens his eyes enough to see your hand sliding below his waistband and into his underwear. All he needs to do is gently grab your wrist. Carefully pull it away and just cuddle you so you know he cares, but he doesn't want this. Eden can't really feel his arms right now.

Your pink little tongue wets your lips again before you lean over him, kissing his slightly chapped ones as your hand finds its mark.

Another gasp from him, another misread response you take as permission to keep going and to flick your tongue against his own while your fingers wrap about his now pitifully hard cock. It's not a shiver this time, it's a jolt that makes the muscles in his left thigh seize for a brief moment.

It's hard to say if you're doing good. He hasn't exactly had any positive experiences in this department, regardless of if he was sold or not. It feels good. The heaviness in his stomach deepens, a sense of guilt and nausea rising in tandem.

Slick noises register in his ears. For a second Eden thinks its himself, or perhaps the kiss he isn't really participating in. It isn't, though, not if your weak moans are anything to go by. It's you, your free hand having disappeared beneath your own pants to... to prepare yourself for him.

"You're so big, Eden." Irreverent, whispered, praised.

Tightness pulls on his balls, licks of pleasure making his toes curl in their socks and making it harder to breathe. His mouth is so dry now, without you kissing him. He shouldn't want your mouth back on his own.

'Please be bored,' Eden pleads to himself when you pull yourself fully away from him. 'Please change your mind - I don't care about still being hard. I can't say no to you, please.'

Instead, your pants are shucked off, thrown and discarded on the old hardwood floor along with your shirt as you get to work pulling his clothes off.

Every action has to be involuntary. It has to be, when Eden doesn't even feel like he's here. He can't be leaning up to help you in your quest to make his chest bare. But he is. He can't be raising his hips to free his legs of the clothing. But he is.

Unsteadily, your body shaking, you climb atop Eden, the plush of your thighs pressing down onto his lower abdomen and hips. So soft, so precious. Just like the smile you're aiming down at him, that love you spoke of shining so clearly through your expression.

He can see the wetness of your cunt from here, the slick liquid having spread to your thighs and dampening the hair down there. Most people shave now, when they're expecting things like this. A small comfort, that you didn't plan this. It didn't stop self hatred banging around his skull at how his cock jumped when your fingers spread your lower lips apart.

It feels as soft as it looked when you slowly sink down. Eden was still paralysed, despite the intensity of your heat and how it suctioned him in. He still couldn't move. Until you whined in pain and rose from his lap an inch or two.

That's the trigger that gave him his strength back. You, in pain. You, needing comfort.

Shooting up from his laying position, Eden's arms were around your waist in a second, his voice back to hushing and comforting. Your face back to his neck as you hummed along to his words, relaxing once more as you tried again.

He should stop you. He could have stopped you, this time. He shouldn't have pushed his hips up, shouldn't have let his eye twitch at how fucking good you felt wrapped around his shaft as some part of his brain screamed at him to fuck up into the heaven he found himself in.

The guilt stayed his movements. It stayed them until you cautiously began to bounce, used to the stretch of him now and eager to feel good. Then, Eden's arms almost crushed you against his chest, halting your hips as his own began a bucking rhythm.

'Let it feel right,' part of him insisted, raising the pit in his stomach to a calm plateau.

Pretty is what your voice sounds like in his ear. Pretty as you babble on about how nice it is, how he fills you just right and how you won't let anyone else ever touch you again. How you're his, you promise.

It's not a bad thing, right? It just means you'll always need him, just as you have before. You'll be a constant even as things change. And Eden hates change. But this isn't really change, is it?

It feels too damn good to last long. Too great, too much suction pulling his head further and further away from any semblance of reason.

Wanton noises spill from you, high pitched keening as you take every inch of him you can while your body quivers in his embrace.

What finally pushes Eden over the edge is the predictable, suffocating ever tightening walls of your cunt spasming around him - massaging his length and milking him dry of his seed. Too late now to realise you hadn't used a condom. Too late now to consider that a third might be coming to the forest with them that isn't Bailey.

Exhaustion hits him like a truck, not just his body, but a deep haze over his mind that pushes him back down to his pillow with your sweat glistening body falling on top of his own. The ceiling is so bare. Most ceilings are, he realises, just white voids to stare up at unless they've got that horrible popcorn shit on them. You haven't pulled him out of you.

You don't pull him out of you. You keep him there, even as you snuggle close and almost sing your love to him despite the fact that you're whispering still.

He has work again in the morning. Eden can't sleep. You snore softly, resting on top of him. He tries to reason that it's because his socks are still on, and that's just not comfortable. He tries to keep his breathing calm, even when it's trying it's best to run away from him.

[honeyspawn]

Some ideas about Paul's family:

Option 1: Jon Matteson Fmily Tree - full-transparency, the Jon Matteson family tree has never really been my personal favorite, or at the very least, the idea of Paul specifically having a big chaotic extended family has never felt very "Paul" to me. Paul has always struck me as such a solitary entity in Hatchetfield, or at least until Emma shows up. That being said, I won't deny that the idea is fun. That being said, I think if we're gonna go with the whole Paul is Richie's uncle thing, I don't think he's literally the brother of one of Richie's parents. I think "uncle" in this case is used in the general way a kid refers to an adult relative, and he's more of a distant cousin. I don't really know how to explain it, but I simply cannot picture Paul with siblings. Overall though, to me, I think I prefer the idea of Gary and Boy Jerry being Richie's uncles, and Paul is just kinda separate.

Option 2: Generic Retirees - I've mentioned this in another post, but something about Paul having no relatives in Hatchetfield even though he's lived there his whole life there feels very "Paul" to me. I suppose you could conclude from this that his parents are dead, but seeing as he's only in his early 30s and that implies his parents probably died kind of young (probably somewhere in the 50s-70s range depending on how old they were when Paul was born and when they died), I like the idea instead that the explanation is the most boring one possible; they retired in Florida. Their names are Arthur and Martha Matthews, or something similarly generic. They are the most boring 60 year old couple imaginable. Arthur likes to garden. Martha likes bird watching. They have no other hobbies. They visit Paul a couple times a year. They are constantly trying to convince Paul to move to Florida. They are the Matthews family. They are boring.

Option 3: Crack Theory Time - This is insane, and I don't really believe this theory, but the idea came to me one day and I the thought wouldn't leave my head, so I need to share it. So the idea behind this is Paul is such a singular entity that it's almost enigmatic, or at least it would be if anyone cared that much. Paul never talks about his family to anyone. He never really thinks about his family, and he feels like he's been on his own for a long time. That's not to say he doesn't remember having a family. He had a mom. She was nice. It was a shame she passed away 15 years ago. And when he starts dating Emma and she asks about his family, that's all he has to say. "I had a mom. She was nice. It was a shame she passed away 15 years ago." He remembers having a mother, but he doesn't really remember anything that specific about her. He's not sure why. He never thinks too deeply about it. He's not sure he can properly recall her face unless he's looking at an old scrapbook. It's strange, though. As soon as he puts the scrapbook back on the shelf, it's like he forgets again. All that really sticks is he had a mom. She was nice. It's a shame she passed away 15 years ago. It's not like he didn't love her, of course he did, she was his mom. And she was a good mom too, he's sure of it. One thing he does remember though, is before she died, she had a long talk with him. He can't remember about what exactly, but he knows it was important. He's pretty sure she was saying goodbye. If you've watched nightmare time, you may have guessed where I'm going with this. I don't really know where this idea of mine that Miss Holloway is Paul's mom came from, it just kind of seemed like Paul being a mysteriously solo entity in Hatchetfield makes sense, and this seemed like an interesting explanation. It also would tie into the fact that Paul might have a slight latent resistance to the LiBs. In tgwdlm, Paul has a whole musical number where he resists the Hive while being infected, while the only other times anyone gets infected on stage, it's a matter of seconds. Paul is also one of the only adult characters who sees through Tickle-Me-Wiggly; even Emma thinks Tim would want a Wiggly "more than anything." Do I think this is all some insane foreshadowing? Absolutely not. This seems extremely unlikely to me, and a product of my own over-thinking, but it sure is fun to think about anyway. (Also, I've never seen anything about this online before, but if this is an existing fan theory, please let me know. The Miss Matthews theory, if you will)

Option 4: He Doesn't Have One - Paul does not have a family. He is just Paul. It's not important for Paul to have a family because they are not relevant, and therefore, they simply do not exist. This also seems very possible to me, and tbh feels appropriate, both for Paul, and for Hatchetfield. I mean heck, according to Curt Mega his shopper character in Black Friday is literally named "Shopper No. 4". Paul just straight up not having a family because he's Just A Guy™️ feels right.

Wow, this was a lot, actually. If you read this whole thing, thanks for letting me infodump, and I'd love to hear what you think.

[agendabymooner]

cinema ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc) — mdni

“it’s you. don’t know why but it feels so right for me.”

summary: a breakup can lead to a loss of a part of one’s identity, and sylvie and max were alright with that. (1)(2)(3)(4)

content warning: use of explicit language, mention of mental health issues and lack of sleeping, light smut/suggestive content (i can’t write for shit), mentions of loss of virginity, mention of past!ofc x the weeknd (toxic breakup, cheating storyline), chatfic + fic, mature content under the cut MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

note: yo girl is going to the 2024 canadian gp 😩 there will also be a charles leclerc piece otw but i just need to put out my cracked out thoughts into it. also, i can’t write smut so there will not be any extremely graphic details in this chapter. this doesn't mean that i am encouraging people to read it at their own risk so MINORS DNI :)

masterlist

september 2016

Everyone in the Red Bull area knew the reason why Sylvie was often found crying in Daniel Ricciardo’s drivers room during her breaks. Well, everyone but Sylvie. She lived to blame herself for the downfall of what she thought was a great relationship.

They were reaching the sixth month and if it hadn’t been for Abel’s cheating, then maybe— MAYBE Sylvie would continue to pursue what she had with him.

Everyone thought Abel was a fool. Sylvie hadn’t done anything but be a good person, a loyal girlfriend. Why did he let another woman warm the bed that they shared?

Because she spent more time with Max than she had with him. That’s what he said. When she found him in his flat and asked what the hell was going on, Abel yelled at her for not going home. He screamed that she was doing it first with her “fucking best friend.” He didn’t even know the rough past between the two; he only knew Max’s name and had seen their childhood photos. So much for someone who had been dating her for five months.

Instead of fighting back, she cried. Her feet stood there as her sobs became a plea to let her inside once he kicked her out. She looked so pathetic.

It didn’t stop her from working, though, and Christian Horner couldn’t be more wrong when he previously said that she wasn’t emotionally prepared for work.

Her work kept her mind occupied throughout the Hungary race. From sending emails back and forth with her model agency to attending sponsor dinners, her mind never stopped running until she was able to get some sleep.

Because truthfully, she really wasn’t able to sleep. She only relied on chamomile tea then pretended that she was refreshed from the night before.

Her family had tried to get some word out of her about the break up, but she refused to say anymore. Toto did say that Abel had a bad aura within him, yet Sylvie knew that her in-law wasn’t about to tell her that “I told you so.” Stevie definitely called Abel out on his bullshit one night when she came across him at a bar in LA. Tilly merely comforted her without a word. Other than that, Sylvie never said anything about it— her eyes were focused on the racing team and the drivers.

The night before the race, she found Max standing in front of her hotel room. Her bloodshot eyes were evidence of her sadness and exhaustion, but it wasn’t as if she could easily close the door on him to hide it away. He was persistent and would most likely bring Lando here if it means that he would be able to get in.

The Dutchman stood there with a tray of macarons and another tray with cups of tea. “Chamomile,” it said on both tea bags. His accent was laced with concern as he spoke, “I know you haven’t had the greatest weekend yet. I had to beg my PR manager to find me a pastry shop for these.”

And so they sat on the love seat quietly, Easy A playing on the television while they both munched on the last two strawberry macaroons and sipped on their tea.

“He blamed me, you know?” Sylvie chuckled bitterly, her eyes still trained on Emma Stone’s makeover scene as the character continued ripping fabrics off in rage. I should do that, she told herself. She could see in her peripheral vision that Max looked at her, leaving her to say, “Said I spent too much time with you. That I slept with you first.”

“Blue—“ Max tried to speak, but she continued regardless.

“Which is kind of rich of him,” Sylvie shook her head, reaching out on the tray to eat the matcha flavoured macaron next. She bit on it and said, “Considering that I never had slept with anyone I spend my time with. Let alone sleep with anyone.”

“I don’t recall sleeping with anyone, too,” Max made things lighter as he joked, “I would have remembered otherwise.”

“Man,” Sylvie sighed and slumped against the loveseat, “had I known that men would be like that, then I would’ve ditched him immediately.”

Sylvie knew that whatever she did with Max the moment he came inside the hotel room made her realize her worth. What was it about her childhood friend that made her think the other way?

Everyone did say they were connected one way or another. She didn’t know how and he didn’t know either; but everyone insisted they were soulmates. One soul in two different bodies. She knew him as much as he knew her. She always had similar thoughts and feelings shared with him, and not once did he ever go against that idea. He pushed her, in fact.

“Not men,” Max laughed quietly, “boys. Men learn. Boys are still in the process of doing so.”

“Didn’t you just hit puberty two months ago?” She joked.

“Didn’t you?” He bit back with a smile.

She laughed along, shaking her head once more. They fell silent as Sylvie stared at his eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen it up close. But god, they sure looked prettier than they did before Abel had broken up with her.

“Would it be,” she stammered, leaving the man next to him scowling as he goaded her into speaking. She cleared her throat and sighed. “Would it be okay to ask… if I can… ah, shit. Never mind. It sounds bollocks if I continue on.”

“We don’t hide things anymore, Mustang,” he teased her, “remember? We agreed on it.”

“So if I were to ask if you want to… do… it…”

Now he was rendered silent. She wanted the world to swallow her the moment she found him staring at her. He was frozen, and she felt her body burning in embarrassment as she wished to leave the place. This was her bloody room, she couldn’t get out of here.

“I- I-“ he stuttered, his cheeks heating up as he asked, “You want to do it?”

“I’ve always wondered what it's like,” she murmured quietly. “I tried imagining doing it with him but… he never seemed to have that kind of intention to… I don’t know… pay attention to my wants.”

“Pretty foolish of that dickhead,” Max scoffed. “If he only wants to use you, then it’s a great thing that you knew better than that.”

“But seriously—“ he continued, “Sylvie, look at me in the eyes and tell me you want me to do it with you.”

“I do,” she admitted meekly, staring at him while she said so before she turned away. “I don’t think I can do it with someone else. If they’re the same as him then I don’t know… and you’re not him or anyone. So…”

“Okay,” he nodded understandingly. He backed away for a second before catching his breath and murmured, “Okay… I’ll make sure you and I aren’t hurt. And- and, I’ll make sure you have the best time.”

And the best time, it was. It was the first time Sylvie slept in a few days. It was also the first time she shared an intimate moment with someone. Someone being Max Emilian Verstappen.

Anyone experienced with two eyes would point out that everything that happened was done rather clumsily. It probably didn’t help that Max had to trip and knock on Dan’s door to ask for a condom, but it was better to be embarrassed than sorry, he supposed.

Sylvie could remember herself wiping the smudged mascara off her face and removing her top to put on the black corset top that she had on her suitcase, keeping her black wide legged sweatpants on while he went out to “say hi to Dan for a minute.” She didn’t need to put on a makeup. It wasn’t really that special, was it? No. It certainly was, she just didn’t want to spook Max especially when his eyes widened just as he walked in on her putting on a lip balm with nothing but her bra and sweatpants on.

He couldn’t deny anything that night, especially to himself. The moment his tongue swiped over her lips, he nearly groaned in satisfaction at the minty flavour of her chapstick. A hint of strawberry came with it, finding himself caging her against the marble sink as she desperately held him… by the arms and his mouth.

Both of them were clueless, not knowing how to maneuver around one another the moment Max settled her down to her (upgraded) king-sized bed. For a moment, he wondered how she had managed to get herself a large room — knowing that the hotel room booked for him and Danny were smaller than hers — but her wandering hands sent his thoughts away when her palm landed on his sweatpants, eliciting a sigh from him.

Too many questions of, “Is this okay” and “are you alright” were exchanged— both of them unsure if either of them were comfortable or smart enough to be doing this. But one thing that they knew for sure was they wouldn’t be able to forget that night. It wasn’t the just pleasure that made it too memorable— but rather their experience with one another that made it too… good to forget. Sylvie and Max could care less about reaching the highs and lows when all they could think about was that they’ve done it with one another.

She could remember waking up to him kissing her forehead as he spoke in Dutch, telling her that they would talk sometime during the day before he left the room. She pretended to be asleep, but the whisper of his voice made her heart beat faster as if he hadn’t just called her love.

For someone who “hated” Max, Sylvie trusted him for taking a part of her and allowed him to ruin other men for her. She was sure that Max was her standard now. She couldn’t imagine doing the most intimate things with someone who didn’t have the same values and personality as him.

God, Max ruined her. But it wasn’t as if Sylvie was complaining about it. She embraced that idea, in fact.

[emilyssky]

Chapter 7: In For It

PAIRING: Lee Know! X fem!reader

GENRE(S): college au, smut, angst

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence and abuse, depression, self harm, eating disorders etc.. mentions of blood, swearing, smoking, smut [ dirty talk, oral; giving and receiving, choking, spanking, praising, degradation, pet names, sometimes Minho is a dick :)

SUMMARY: "Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?"  

"What?"

"You said; Always leave people a little better than you found them" he looked at the floor with a small smile for a few seconds and then his eyes found mine. "You really annoyed me when we first met. I envied your optimism and excitement for life. But each time I saw you, I felt a certain thrill. You made me angry, you made me laugh., you made me feel everything. Something about you made me feel a little more alive each time. I know I fucked up and I know I'm an asshole but I'm also brutally in love with you."    

Things are starting to get out of control and the game has turned into something completely different. Changbin was gone by the time I came back from the bathroom cause apparently Lia was not feeling well, so he drove her home. Emma and Seungmin have given up on the game and are making out on the couch, completely ignoring us and the rest of us are utterly drunk at this point.  We continue to play nevertheless but the rules are probably none existent right now. Questions and dares are being asked around and everything is starting to become messy.

"Okay, no. That's not happening." Chan answers before I have the chance to.

"Chan-"

"Nope. You're drunk and you're not taking your shirt off." He throws Jisung a dirty look, who simply lifts his shoulders in defense.

"She dared me to go to the balcony and twerk for a whole minute in my underwear. It's only fair." Jeongin pouts.

I giggle at his expression. "I don't mind." I reach for the ends of my shirt, about to peel it off my body. Chris instantly moves to stop my hands but it's the low growl of my name from his lips that made me stop.

"You're not wearing a bra stupid," Chan whispers annoyed.

I slap my hand over my mouth. "Oops."

Jisung laughs, shaking his head. "I think it's time to call it a night."

I look around; Felix is sleeping beside him, well passed out probably, Emma and Seungmin are basically fucking in front of us, and Hyunjin-

"I think Hyunjin's going to be-" I didn't even finish my sentence before Hyunjin vomited all over the floor in front of him. "...sick"

"Fuck." Chris sighs, already on his feet.

Jisung gets up, not looking Hyunjin's way twice. "I'll bring the mop."

Chan pulls Hyunjin's head back, laying him down on his side. "Okay buddy, hold on."

"Great once again, we have no way to get home."  I groan.

Seungmin lifts himself off of the couch with Emma wrapped around his waist. They make their way up the stairs without breaking the kiss for a split second or even sparing a glance at us.

"Excellent." I groan again.

"You can stay here." Jeongin offers casually. "We have space."

"We don't," Minho says, his tone cold and sharp.

"Yeah, we do," Jeongin continues nevertheless, his gaze avoiding his friend, looking around almost nervously. "We all have double beds."

Minho's eyes stay fixated on him, narrowing slightly until he turns to Chan, who's trying to wake up Hyunjin with no luck. "Do you need help taking them home?"

Chan rubs his hands over his face, thinking. "I'll have to take Felix and Hyunjin back to the frat and then Y/n back to her place since I'll be staying here tonight."

"That's basically back and forth. Just take them back to the frat and I'll take the girls." He offers, with his face, expressionless.

Chan looks between me and Minho, and I can almost see all his thoughts clouding his head. "She's drunk, I don't feel okay about leaving her alone."

"I'm completely fine, thank you very much."I try to stand up, but I stumble over my own two feet. His arms come up around me for support as I reach him, but he doesn't even glance down at me, his eyes are on Minho.

"You don't have to worry. Plus you've been drinking as well." He points out with a natural face, unbothered by the way Chan's looking at him. "I've only had like 2 shots."

It takes him a few seconds but to my surprise he sighs, "Fine."

"But I don't wanna go yet," I quickly whine.

"Is Emma gonna stay here?" He asks Chan, both of them ignoring me.

"It looks like it."

"Come on." Minho's hand comes around my arm, pulling me away from Chan's comfort. His rough grip makes me stumble, losing my balance due to the dizziness of my mind and the numbness of my limbs, but I feel his palm on my back and my eyes shoot up to his, I sober up immediately.  

"Do you need any help?" Jeongin gets up from the couch.

Minho steels. "No, it's fine I got it."

"You sure?" He presses, taking a step towards us.

I feel his grip tightening on my arm, his sharp breath hitting the side of my head.

I clear my throat, noticing the sudden tension, and move away from his grip before he says anything back. "I'll be fine." I pull Jeongin into a quick hug. "I'll see you."

I grab my purse and jacket from the back of the couch, just when Jisung appears with a mop and a bucket in his hands.

"Are you leaving?" His face falls a bit.

"I don't want to." I pout back. "They're kicking me out."

"Let's go." Minho appears behind me, pushing me forward lightly and I send him a glare. "I don't have all night."

"Where are you going?" Jisung asks him.

He answers without looking at him, "I have to take her home."

"You don't 'have to' do anything, you offered actually. I can gladly call a cab." I turn around, not realizing just how close behind me he was.

"You're a child." He says with no emotion on his face.

"And you're an asshole." I fire back, getting annoyed. I never asked him to take me home. "I think I rather someone else take me!" I move past him, try to actually but his fingers wrap around my arm, sharply pulling me back.

"I said I'm taking you home. Now, get your ass out the door." He says, keeping his tone low.

"You don't tell me what I can and can't do." I take a few steps forward, tilting my head upwards to look at him. I take a look over his shoulder, noticing Jisung helping Chan with Hyunjin and Jeongin being nowhere to be found. "But I don't wanna cause yet another scene because of you and I'm tired. " I look back at him. "That's the only reason I'm walking out the door."

A smirk creeps into his lips. "Sure."

.

.

.

.

His car is a black Jeep and it's surprisingly clean. No condoms or bags from fast food places are thrown on the ground.

"Seatbelt." His raspy voice echoes through the small space. I feel chills running down my arms partly from the cold yet I do as he says, and put my seatbelt on. It's hard not to let my eyes linger on his side profile as he starts the car and drives out of his parking spot, silently admiring how perfectly calm all of his features are yet how strong and sharp. It's rare to see any intense emotion painting his face, the only source that proves he is not a robot, is his eyes. The corners of his mouth lift slightly, letting me now that I've been caught. Fuck, I'm too drunk for this, and the more I stare at him the harder the realization that he's undeniably handsome hits me, so I focus my eyes on the road, instead.

"Just so you know I tend to talk a lot when I drink," I speak up, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Oh, I know." A small smirk appears.

Heat rises to my cheeks as the memories of the first time we met come to my mind. I wonder how he remembers me? I wonder if he thought about that night just as much as I've thought about it. I shake my head and force the questions down my throat. He obviously doesn't care, but still for some reason my nerves grow just like the silence between us, and my leg starts to bounce up and down.

"Stop."

I turn to him confused but he keeps his eyes on the road. His right hand move from the wheel to my knee, forcing it to a stop and the action is so fast and smooth that makes me suck a breath. His hand doesn't move, it lingers over the top of my knee for a few more seconds until it starts sliding slowly down my thigh. I don't breath, I don't dare to, not until his fingers finish brushing their way to the top off my thigh like a feather, only a few inches away from where I'm now suddently craving them to be.

"Why are you nervous?" His smirk grows, probably sensing who tense I am.

'I'm not ' is what I should answer but my mind is a blurry mess, a shit tone of questions are about to slip out of my mouth before I can stop them and the confidence that the alcohol in my system offers me doesn't help.

"Cause there's so much I wanna say but I know I shouldn't." I say instead.

His features still for a split second and his eyes turn to me. It looks like he thinks about his answer as well but after a few seconds, he says. " Why shouldn't you?"

I chuckle. "Cause it's a waste of time."

His eyebrows come together. "Why?"

"Cause you don't wanna talk to me. For some reason, you decided to not like me." I say before I can't stop myself. "And normally I wouldn't care, but I have been nothing but nice to you. A lot of times I come off as rude or cold, cause I'm just a bit closed off, I guess you can say." I turn to him. "But I have been so nice to you," I say again, raising my tone but smiling a bit. I don't know why, but I'm smiling.

He stops at a red light and turns to face me, resting his head back on the seat. His eyes are glistening under the dim light of the headlights.

I tilt my head, almost hypnotized. "Do you know that your eyes sparkle?"

His face twitches with interest. A rare sight. "What?"

I giggle bringing my knee up and resting my head on it, my eyes not leaving his. He tilts his head as well, looking at me like his searching for something and I'm waiting for him to talk. He lets out a sigh and bites his lip, his eyes studying my face. I wanna save this moment in my memories exactly how it is but I'm afraid that my drunken mind won't remember it clearly. I like that he's looking at me. And I like that we're not talking. I feel comfortable and peaceful. I could stay like this for hours. My mind blurry, unable to think or worry about anything. No anxiety, no emotions making me physically sick, just silence. My body relaxed, not pressured to dance a certain way or look a certain way. My mouth close, not trying to keep up with conversations or entertain anyone. Simply staying still and being looked at by him without saying a single word.

"I like this moment," I whisper, my thoughts out loud. The light has turned green but he doesn't seem to care, we're alone on the road anyway.

He hesitantly raises his hand, the action so familiar in the most intense and unsettling way that  I close my eyes, mechanically.

"Open your eyes." He demands gently.

My eyes open, to meet his again but now with a different kind of light in them. Hard but soft, full of suppressed emotion. He brings his hand to the side of my head, tugging my hair behind my ear.

"You never have to close your eyes around me." He rubs his thumb over my cheek, my skin tingling underneath it. "I don't ever wanna see you flinch or cover your face when you're with me 'cause every time you do you push me closer to pulling up to that motherfucker's house and making sure he won't have fingers to lay on another female ever again." He says, his eyes darkening with each word and I can feel my heart warm. Warm by his words, warm by the way he's looking at me and touching me.

I nibble at my bottom lip, trying to cover up my smile unsuccessfully.  "Are you bipolar?"  At that, his face breaks into a smile, his perfect teeth on display.  "No really, I'm curious, 'cause man you're confusing me."

He shakes his head, his bright smile slowly fading until it turns into a sad one. "What am I gonna do with you?" He whispers and I feel like he's talking more to himself rather than me.

"You're gonna drive me home, " I answer either way. "And we're gonna forget that this happened. You're gonna go back to you either being a dick to me just to get my attention or ignoring my whole existence until we get drunk and can be real with each other again." I say, trying to keep my eyes from closing.

The wave of comfort that suddenly came with the softness of his words and overall presence hits me hard. I feel his tender touch slide from the side of my face and I swear he said something but my brain had shut off and sleep took over me before I had the chance to hear what.

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.

.

.

.

.

Tomorrow is the first official day of our winter break and normally, since it's Sunday night we would celebrate all together but somehow it's 9 p.m and I'm alone in my apartment, getting ready to binge-watch the Harry Potter movies for the 100th time. Hyunjin has made plans with Jisoo, Felix is hanging out with Changbin at the frat, probably watching some stupid basketball game and Emma has a date with Seungmin. And when I say date, I mean a fancy-ass dinner date, that I hope will make their relationship official. Chan's with Jisung at the studio but I'm not really in the mood to join them, so I decided to stay inside, which I've been craving actually. It's been a while since I've had a night to myself but 2 hours in and I've already regretted it. Being alone comes with having none but your own thoughts to keep you company and that is one thing I desperately wanna avoid. The thoughts about me, the thoughts about him. Thinking in general. Ever since we started hanging out with Chan's friends I've been constantly stepping out of my comfort zone. I went from staying inside every single day to going out every single weekend. I don't regret it though, I'm grateful for meeting them. I've really grown to like hanging out with them and I can see that Hyunjin, Emma, and Felix feel the same way, it's just that everything has been happening so fast, that I need to take a step back and collect myself a bit. I feel my head being all over the place, especially with everything that's happening with Minho. It's been definitely a while since I gave any man a single time of my day, let alone allow him to conquer my every thought the way that he does. I've been forcing myself not to think that much into anything about him but each time he will do something or say something that will just completely throw away all my logical thoughts and self-control. I have no idea how he sees me or what are his thoughts about us; if there's even an 'us' to begin with. I try to push the thoughts about him to the back of my head as I wrap my arms around my body tighter. I push the door of the convenience store, hearing the 'ring' sound echo throughout the store.

"Hey, Y/n." Nick greets me with a smile for his position behind the counter.

"Hi." I return the smile and walk further into the store, finding my way down the all-too-familiar hallway. I stand in front of the limited wine collection, searching for my favorite bottle of red wine but instead, I throw my head back and a small groan escapes me as I realize they're out.

"Great..." I mumble to myself.

"Y/n?"

My head snaps to the left, seeing Jeongin standing towards the end of the hall. A few beers, a bag of chips, and my favorite bottle of wine in his hands. With his face half-hidden inside his hood, he walks towards me.

I narrow my eyes a bit, focusing on the bottle in his hands. "You stole my favorite wine."

My words make him pause slightly and he looks down at his hands and then at the shelf.

"Sorry, but it's my favorite too." He half-smiles.

I take a deep breath. "Look it's been a long day and I really need to chill, watch a movie, and drink my comfort wine." My incredibly horrible mood begins to make an appearance, yet his smile doesn't falter.

"Well, someone's grumpy." He jokes.

"Yes, someone is."

"Well, it's been a long day for me as well. " He walks towards me. " And I wanna drink my wine and watch the game."

I groan in his face and he lets out a laugh. "Come on, Jeongin please."

My eyes must have really looked desperate cause his smile grew a little in the few minutes of silence.  "Fine let's make a deal then." He offers.

I cross my hands. "I'm listening."

"We'll share." He smirks.

"I'm not watching basketball." I shake my head.

He rolls his eyes, taking a few seconds to think. "You like movies?"

On any other occasion, I would completely avoid any offer by a guy to watch movies and drink in my apartment but tonight I don't let myself think too much. The truth is that I need company to distract me from my thoughts that are eating me alive and also a few glasses of my favorite wine. If these two options come in a package deal with Jeongin, then so be it.

I let my lips form a smile. "Obviously. "

"Your place or mine?" He smiles back.

There's no way I'm going over to that house, with all the guys there. It's not gonna end well and I really need to relax tonight. I don't want the tension that comes with seeing Minho right now.

"Mine."

"Cool." He walks past me.

.

.

.

.

.

"It's not fair, I should have paid half," I whine for probably the 10th time, taking a seat next to him on the couch. It does feel a little bit weird to have a guy, besides my Hyunjin, Felix, and Chan, sitting comfortably in my living room, but nothing about Jeongin is or feels uncomfortable. In fact, our whole way back from the store was filled with easy-flowing conversation and the second he entered my apartment he acted as if he's been here many times before.

"It's whatever. " He brushes me off. "Just buy me coffee next time and we're even." He makes himself comfortable on my couch, spreading his arm at the back and letting his tall body lean backwards, fully relaxed.

I set the bowl of popcorn and the bottle of wine along with two glasses on the coffee table in front of us before taking a seat next to him. I keep a little amount of space between our bodies, my small couch not really helping, and grab a blanket, throwing it over my bottom half, trying to get comfortable as well.

"So what are we watching?" He pulls the blanket over to cover his legs as well. I can't help but giggle at how he tries to fit his tall body under the blanket, pulling it all to his side, leaving me completely bare.

"This is not gonna work." I shake my head.

His lips are in a loose smile, his eyes big, almost puppy-like looking back at me. He opens the side of the blanket, a silent offer for me to scoop a bit closer to him.

And so I do, without much thought. "You like Harry Potter?"

"Who doesn't?" He mumbles with his mouth already filled with popcorn.

I press play and grab my glass of wine.

. . . .

It was unexcepted honestly, how addictive his company was becoming each minute passing, or how fun. Even though I've never hung out with Jeongin one on one, it surprised me how comfortable and at ease I felt. His whole presence was like a light breeze, so easy going and smooth. Throughout the movie, he made jokes or comments, opening conversations effortlessly about the scenes or the movie in general, and the conversation continued to flow even after the movie ended. It felt easy getting to know him, from his upbringing to his first year of college, he talked to me like an open book. His dreams of becoming a singer and his passion for any form of art were no surprise to me but I didn't expect just how driven he is by his love for music. He talked about the rest of the guys and everything they're currently working on with stars in his eyes. I was a bit hesitant to offer him the same honesty he did to me but the hesitation didn't last very long and I found myself talking more than I've had in a long, long time. I purposely avoided sensitive topics and focused on my own journey with dance, what I really wanna do,my hopes and dreams along with a few small details about myself that I never really thought anyone would like to listen about yet he kept his eyes on me the whole time, listening patiently.

"Was it painful?"

He shakes his head with a small, sad smile. "Awfully painful, but worth it. She was my first love."

"My first love," I start already feeling heavy but the mention of him. "was awfully painful as well, but if I could go back, I would tell myself to run as far away from him as possible."

"Cheated?" He tries to guess.

"The cheating was the least painful part." The truth behind my words, so loud, that it made my chest tighten.

He nods lightly, his eyes moving all over my face, noticing the sudden sadness. "Love can be painful, but partly that's the beauty of it."

I look at him, my head tilting, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"What's the point to be loved if not getting hurt as well?" He continues, with the same softness in his gaze. "Pain is a reminder that the love was real."

It's hard to not let the wave of emotions that came with his words take over me completely and It's hard not to break down in tears in front of him.

"But what if the pain never stops?" I whisper, my breath trembling.

His face softens even more. "It will. It will take time but it will go away, and you will heal. Maybe by yourself or maybe with the help of someone else."

I blink, feeling a tear rolling down my cheekbone but before I have time to catch it, his thumb comes up and gently slides across my face. My eyes shoot to his, facing nothing but pure understanding in his gaze.

"I think it's time to call it a night." He softy says, dropping his hand from my face. His body stays close to mine and I stay almost frozen. "I don't want you to get all emotional on me."

I smile at his attempt to joke the intensity of the conversation away, as he lifts himself off my couch.

"Thank you for the company." I lean against the doorway, as he adjusts his jacket.

"Anytime." He winks. "Come by the studio tomorrow, with that coffee you owe me."

A playful scoff escapes me, his flirty personality already growing on me.

"Maybe, I will."

My answer seems to satisfy him enough cause his face breaks into one last smile. "Goodnight, Y/n."

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I love cold weather. I love the rain, the snow, the wind. I love feeling cold and wearing layers and layers of clothes. Today is one of those days and I couldn't be happier about it. I'm wearing a pair of baggy black jeans and a black turtle neck with my leather jacket and a huge scarf on top as I make my way to the studio. I had completely forgotten that I made plans with Chan to meet at the studio at 11 am. It's now 1:14 pm and prepare myself mentally as I open the studio door.

"I'm so sorry" I apologize the minute I lock eyes with Chan, his face dead serious.

"I'm changing my best friend to Felix, that's it." He turns his back on me. He's sitting in his chair as usual, while Jeongin, jisung, and Changbin are sitting on the couches. I offer them a nod with a smile and find myself scanning the room for any sight of him but I find none.

"First of all. Felix is your best friend and second I slept late I'm sorry." I spin his chair around. He crosses his hands, keeping his face straight. "I'm here aren't I?" I pout.

He lets out a breath. "Fine, you're forgiven." He says and I grin at him, satisfied.

"I swear sometimes you guys act like a married couple." Jisung appears at my side passing Chan some papers.

I elbow him playfully at which he laughs. "What are you guys working on?" I ask, making eye contact with Jeongin, across the room. He offers me a small smile, and I can't help but smile back. I didn't want to admit it but when he left yesterday, my small apartment felt a tiny bit bigger and a little more empty. It's been a while since I enjoyed someone's company that much.

"We've finally finished the song." Changbin stretches his hands. "So 4 more to go."

"Oh my god, can I hear it?" I say getting excited.

"Sure. Hold on a sec" Chan nods. I turn around walking towards the couch to sit with the guys when the door opens.

"Hannie, I couldn't find apple juice anywhere, so I grabbed orange juice instead." Minho enters the studio, holding a bottle of orange juice. He stops in his tracks, as we stand almost face to face, my expression probably mirroring his. He seems a bit lost, definitely not prepared to see me but he recovers quickly, eyes blinking the shock away and face shifting into his usual bored-looking expression.

"Why are you here again?" He sighs.

I blink back at him, forcing myself to look away, and forcing the memories of the last time we saw each other that immediately rush into my mind with only a glance at his face, away. His tone was expected honestly, but I was kinda hoping that something would have changed between us. Nothing much, nothing major, but just a little something.

"Who's Hannie?" I clear my throat, looking at the guys.

"Oh, I'm Hannie." Jisung grabs the bottle from Minho. "My last name's Han."

"Oh." I nod a few times, focusing my eyes on him as I feel Minho staring at me, not moving. "That's cute. Can I call you Hannie too?"

"No, you can't,"  Minho mumbles and walks past me, taking a seat on the couch. Clearly, nothing has changed.

"Where's my coffee sunshine?" Jeongin grins at me, changing the subject, completely and I can't help but I get a feeling that he somehow sensed my discomfort.

"Shit." I slap my forehead. "I completely forgot, I'll go grab one right now."

"What coffee?" Changbin looks between us, confused. From the way everyone's looking at us I'm guessing that Jeongin didn't tell them that we hang out yesterday. I make eye contact with Minho, waiting for Jeongin to speak up. For some reason, I can't bring myself to say anything.

"Oh, Y/n and I hang out last night."

Minho's face immediately twitches.

"I met her when I went out to grab a few beers, and since we both had nothing to do we went back to her place and watch a movie."

The words make him inhale a deep breath through his nose. His tongue makes a circle on the inside of his cheek and the over his teeth, while he slowly leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. I can't help the small smirk that sneaks into my lips and the satisfaction that I feel seeing him trying to contain his annoyance. His eyes are completely still, focusing on me, not even blinking. And then, in a split second something shifts, as if a flame of anger passes through them, and then it's gone, leaving only a small smile on his dark pink lips. A dark smile that sends chills down my spine and makes my pulse raise in a fucking second. It's almost like something crossed his mind cause he drops my gaze and leans back taking his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger.

I clear my throat. "Yeah and h-he paid so, I offered to buy him coffee today." My face feels hot and Minho's eyes snap back to mine when he hears me shutter. I thought that I had the upper hand but right now I feel completely and utterly controlled by him. His eyes shine in the most challenging way.

Come on, Y/n focus.

"Chan, do you want a coffee?" I turn to him.

"Yes, please." He throws his head back.

"Great, I'll be right back." I move towards the door, but his voice stops me dead in my tracks.

"I'm coming, I want on too."

"I'll grab it for you, you don't have to come." I mumble, but he's already off the couch and walking towards me.  

"I'll help you carry them." He says and it's not until his back is fully facing the rest of the guys that he lets his expressionless face fall into a smirk.

Fuck me.

"Minho grab one for me too." Jisung smiles and Minho lifts his eyebrows at me, the smirk not leaving his face. I sigh and walk out the door, not waiting for him. I can already feel the sweat building on my palms, my stomach turning and my heart rate rising but I continue to walk down the hall. I hear the studio door close and Minho's footsteps approaching me. Fast, maybe too fast. And then the air is knocked out of my chest as he grips my jacket and pulls me backwards so hard that my back colliding with his front was almost audible.

His sharp laugh vibrates on my back. "A movie huh?" He says, his voice sounding almost careful. As if he's trying to control himself. And that gives me a little boost. I take a breath collecting myself and masking my face. I turn to look at him, not moving my body.

"And wine" I add, shaking his grip off, and continue to walk, acting unbothered when in reality my whole back is on fire. Burning, from his touch and his breath against my neck

It takes him a second but he catches up and appears right beside me. "You're really testing my patience," He says so low, that it sounds like a growl.

"How so?" I keep my voice, loud and steady. "Why do you care?"

"I don't." He sharply laughs, shaking his head.

I break into a chuckle. "Oh my god, you're so entertaining." His head snaps my way so hard, that I'm surprised it didn't break as we keep walking, exiting the building. It's pretty clear that there's something between us, but of course, we're gonna go into fucking circles.

"Watching you use Jeongin, to get my attention is what's entertaining. You're trying too hard."

"I'm not using anyone." I scoff. "I like Jeongin, that's why I hang out with him."

"Hang out all you want with him." His face turns dark. "Just make sure that I don't find out  if he laid a finger on you in a non-friendly way 'cause then I won't be that much entertaining angel." My heart does a little jump at the use of the nickname. It's the second time he calls me that and it tickles my ears in the most attractive way.  The boys always use nicknames for me and Emma. Babe, baby, princess. I've heard them all, but none of them really stick out to me.  

Angel. None's ever called me that before.

I stop in my tracks, his tone and words forcing anger out of me. He flashes me a devilish, satisfying grin.  "Dude you're-" His eyes flicker to something behind me, his whole expression shifts, and suddenly my words disappear down my throat as the wind gets knocked out of my chest. In a swift motion, his hand wraps around my waist, making me crash into his body. I see black, my face buried in his chest and all I hear is a car honking as it drives away alongside my own heartbeat. I look up, so hesitantly, still holding my breath.

"Fucking asshole." He curses, following the car with his eyes, and then looks down at me. Concern. It's concern written all over his slightly wide eyes.

"Are you okay?" He brings his hand to the side of my head, searching my face, eyes moving everywhere, all over my face and body. I let out the breath I was holding and finally inhaled again, the air in my lungs hitting me like a train, almost burning me from the inside. 'I'm fine' I want to say but the words won't leave my mouth. I keep staring at him, my body freezing in his hands completely. I go numb and all I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat.

His grip on my waist tightens. "Y/n."

I try to take another breath but it's hard. My stomach tightens and I can feel the unsettling feeling of panic making its way through my body. My ears start ringing and I tear my eyes away from his face, looking around, trying to focus on something. Anything.

"Hey," He cups my face with both of his hands, forcing my eyes back on him. "Focus on me yeah? Look in my eyes." His whispers in a soft voice. I exhale and try to take breaths from my nose. But the lump in my throat grows and my eyes begin to water. No, I won't cry again. I'm sick of this, this feeling of pure panic and inability to control my own mind. But the memories come rushing back, and suddenly I'm 13 again, covered in blood, screaming my lungs out. And it hurts. It hurts my brain and my heart so much that I suck a breath and bury my face in his chest. I feel him freezing, going still but it takes him only a few seconds for his arms to wrap around me.

I let out a silent sob, almost inaudible but his arms tighten even more. His hand brushed my hair softly before sliding down to my back, comforting me silently. As though he understood. As though he cared.

It felt like minutes passed but we stayed like this, glued to each other as his vanilla scent consumed me the more I buried my face into his chest, and slowly I felt like I could breathe again. But I didn't pull away. And he didn't as well. His arms felt good around me. So good, that it made my heart beat faster for a completely different reason.

I slowly lift my head, his big eyes, softer than ever looked down at me.

"I'm sorry." I pull my arms away slowly, unwrapping myself from him as the realization of what happened hit me almost as hard as that car was about to. "I'm so sorry." I flinch further away.

"Stop apologizing. " He shakes his head and takes a large step forward, closing the gap between us. He tilts my face to him, his eyes searching mine.

I wanna freeze time and keep this moment. This moment, that he's not being a dick, that he's not ignoring me, that his face is not hard and his eyes are soft, and I slowly realize that I want more moments like this with him, I wanna keep the feeling of his hands on me and the weird sense of safety that comes with it.

"Yeah." I snap back to reality. "I'm-" I clear my voice. "I was in a car accident a few years ago." The words come out before I can stop them "I'm sorry. It just happened so fast." I add, laughing awkwardly.

"Oh," Something flashes in his eyes and his hands slowly drop from my body. "I understand." He nods his head to himself a couple of times, not saying anything else. He lifts his eyes to mine, no words come out of his mouth but I feel like his gaze is silently questioning me if I wanna talk about it. I chew on my bottom lip, shaking my head lightly and trying to look anywhere else. I'm grateful that he doesn't press the matter further, not that I was expecting him to start any sort of conversation for anything.

"Come on let's go." I turn around and begin to walk. His hand comes around my waist once again, pushing me to the inner side of the sidewalk.

"Sidewalk rule." He smiles.

.

.

.

.

"Look who's back for his second coffee of the day already." A girl with long. blond hair and big round glasses say as we reach the counter of the coffee shop.

"Hey, Maddie." Minho smiles at her and she smiles back. I stand beside him awkwardly staring at the menu, in front of me, even though I know exactly what I'm getting. "I love your hair today." He complements her and I almost snorted out loud. I wanna laugh at the way he speaks to her, I've never heard him use this tone or words to anyone.

"What can I get you? " She tugs a piece of hair behind her ear and looks at him through her glasses. I try not to roll my eyes at her classic move. Her focus stays completely on him, not even acknowledging me, standing right next to him.

"Can I have 3 iced Americanos, an iced latte, and..." He turns to me, leaning closer, and puts his hand on the counter, on the other side of my hips, kind of trapping me between his hands.

"What do you want angel?" He says close to my ear, making the blood rush into my cheeks. The girl's face visibly drops and I feel a spark of satisfaction.

"Um," I try to find my voice. "I'll have an iced latte as well." I smile at the girl, nevertheless.

She looks between us and nods with a smile. "Coming right up." When she leaves to make our order, I push Minho away, glaring at him and he laughs under his breath.

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not jealous stupid. I'm uncomfortable." I pull my credit card out of my pocket.

"I'm paying." He says.

"No way. I offered to get coffee."

"I don't care." He steps in front of me, placing both of his hands on the counter.

"Fine. Then I'll pay for Jeongin's and my coffee and you can pay for the rest." I offer, trying to squeeze my way back to the counter.

"There you go" The blonde girl comes back with our coffees.

"Thank you, Maddie." Minho nods with a smile. He grabs the 3 Americanos. "Y/n, can you grab the resto for me?"

"Yeah, sure." I grab the other two but before I have time to do anything he places his phone in front of the little machine and I hear the familiar 'blink' from apple pay. "See you, tomorrow." He smiles at her.

"You're not buying him a damn coffee." He says inches away from my face and then walks out of the coffee shop.

We made our way back to the studio in almost complete silence but I was too lost in my thoughts to realize. He seemed in his head as well, cause whenever I would steal glances at him as walked, he didn't look at me once. I would kill to know what he was thinking. Or what he thinks about me in general.

.

.

.

" You have a beautiful voice." I turn to Jisung, with a genuine smile. Chan played me their song and I must say that I'm completely shocked. It's amazing how all of their voices blend in perfectly together.

His cheeks turn pink. "I sound okay."

"Oh my god," Minho rolls his eyes. "Take a compliment for once."

Jisung buries his face in his hands, blushing even more. I let out a giggle and try to take his hands off of his face. I hear Minho release a breathy laugh, drawing my attention. He's staring at Jisung with a small smile on his lips, his face is relaxed and his eyes hold a softness that I don't usually see in them. Their friendship is really interesting to me. Somehow I'm interested in anything that involves him. I have this urge to just unravel him and learn every little detail about him. Maybe cause he's been a mystery to me all this time or maybe because I'm simply drawn to him in a way that I can explain and absolutely hate.

"Seungmin, Jeongin, and Minho are the vocalists. I just help sometimes." He mumbles with a shy smile.

"I offered to change spots." Minho says.

"First of all, you can't rap to save your life."

"Bullshit" Minho scoffs.

"And second," Jisung continues "Your voice is too good to waste."

"Aww," I place a hand over my heart. "You're too sweet, I can't"

"What can I say?" He shrugs. " I am a pretty sweet guy."

I take a deep breath, getting myself ready. "So you're a vocalist? I haven't heard you sing yet." I turn to Minho. This is the first time I address him in a conversation, without trying to pick a fight, so this can go both ways.

His posture remains relaxed and his small smile from before grows into a smirk. "I haven't seen you dance yet."

Some tension rolls off of me. "That will not happen."

"Then you won't hear me sing."

I narrow my eyes on him. "You know I can just ask Chan to play me the song you recorded last time right? Your demo specifically."

His smirk grows more. "And you know that I know where you practice?" He shoots back. "Right?"

"Shut up." I shake my head.

He lets his lips turn into a smile. His teeth are exposed to me for the first time. His smile lights up his whole face and I let my eyes admire him a bit.

"Y/n?" Chans calls.

"Yeah?"

He keeps his eyes on Minho for a few seconds before speaking. "I think we need to talk to Hyunjin," he says in an unsure tone.

"What?" I straighten up. "What do you mean?"

"Check his insta story and the group chat." he says staring at his phone. I pull out my own phone and open Instagram to check his story.

"He's listening to that song..." Chan sighs, making eye contact with me.

"What song?" Jisung leans closer to me, trying to take a look.

"And he's spamming the group chat..." I mutter.

"And what about it?" Minho leans in as well, trying to hide his interest.

"It's his break-up song.." Chan sighs. "I'm going."

"No," I get up. "I think it's better if I go."

I grab my bag and my jacket. "Okay, but text me." Chan says.

"I will."

.

.

.

.

.

.

He buries his face further into my arms as he sobs uncontrollably. For as long as I know him, I have never seen Hyunjin cry like that, he's a mess. When I walked into his room, I found him curled into a ball, under layers of blankets, staring at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes.

I smooth his messy blonde hair, trying to calm him down. "I'm going to kill her." I say through my teeth.

He sniffs. "How can she be so fucking fake?"

"I don't know." I honestly answer, shaking my head. They'd been with each other for almost a year now, she looked head over heels for him. Hyunjin went over to her dorm to surprise her and he caught her fucking some other dude.

"Wait, who was the guy?" The question that I had totally forgotten to ask, suddenly pops up in my mind.

He lifts his head to look at me through his wet lashes. "One of Jackson's friends."

I tense up. "What?" My voice comes out louder than I intended.

He nods his head. "Yeah, I swear once I stop crying, I'll beat the shit out of him." He says through sniffs.

"I'll do it for you, don't worry." I clench my jaw. " God, I fucking hate him and his whole group." Even when Jackson and I were dating, I never really got along with his friends. They were all just a bunch of stupid fuckboys with absolutely zero respect towards anyone.

"Actually, I have to tell you something." He hesitantly says.

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Well," He thinks for a second and I feel myself already getting annoyed. "Remember when I told you that I'll ask around for the club we were talking about? For New years? The one that has live performances?"

"Yeah.." After a lot of fighting and back and forth, we decided that on New Year's Eve, we'll stay at the frat until midnight and then go to this super popular club that everyone is talking about around campus. It's going to have live performances by unknown artists. Many people say that Drake and Jack Harlow are 2 of them. The problem is that we don't know how we're getting in.

"Um," He pauses.

"Oh my god, Hyunjin just say it."

"Jackson's uncle owns the club." He finally says.

I groan, blurring my face into my hands. "That's just fucking great."

"So we can't beat them up just yet. " He jokes.

Jackson is incredibly famous around campus and his career is pretty much set already thanks to his father's connections to the music industry. To be honest, he is talented but everything has been handed to him, he never really tried for anything.

"Fuck" I sigh.

"Yeah, fuck."

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Can i make a request for a Dom Clarissa Dovey where she and fem reader have a crush on one another but won’t admit it. So one day reader doesn’t show up for dinner and clarissa goes to check on reader, she knocks twice before she finally enters and here’s the shower, so she decides to go to the showers and join reader which leads to something more. reader has a mommy kink

Heyy anon! Thank you for the request!! I enjoyed writing this for you 🥰🥰 We could ALWAYS use more Clarissa Dovey content. Especially Dominant!Clarissa Dovey… I hope you Enjoy it! 💞

Shower Confessions ~Dom!Clarissa Dovey xFem Switch!Professor!Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, kissing, shower sex, mommy kink, teasing, praise kink, begging kink, nipple play, mutual pining, love confessions, etc.

Enjoy (;

“Clarissa… You have barely touched your food…” Anemone concerningly spoke to her friend and colleague at the dinner, dining table.

Dovey shrugged and looked around the hall once more, her eyes scanning for her favorite professor, but you were no where to be seen, just as when she had looked for you five minutes ago.

“Does this have anything to do with Ms. Y/N not being here for dinner…?” Anemone lightly and teasingly asked.

Dovey tried to cover her light blush at the mention of your name.

“Nonsense Emma, I don’t know what you’re talking about” the dean of good desperately tried to cover her true feelings.

“Hmmmm, Sure you don’t…” Anemone chuckled.

A few minutes of awkward silence past. Dovey still hadn’t seen you in the dining hall.

“Perhaps you should go check on her…” the beauty professor offered.

Clarissa’s eyes lit up at the idea.

“Oh yes, perhaps I should…!” She exclaimed, quickly putting her plate away and rushing out of the dining hall, leaving Anemone at the dining table, who couldn’t help but chuckle.

The curly haired brunette swiftly made her way through the school’s corridors. In record time, the dean makes it to your private quarters.

She knocks on the door. No response. She knocked again, this time calling your name as well. Nothing. All rushed up in the moment, Dovey cracked the door open and called your name once more. Silence.

“Professor Dovey?”

Dovey sped around toward the voice is post haste. Her heart was racing. She sighed in awkward relief, It was only a student of hers.

“Oh Miss Lane! What can I help you with?”

“Oh nothing, I was on my way to the library. But, Are you looking for Professor L/N?” The girl spoke.

“I am! You haven’t happened to see her have you?” Dovey asked.

“I did. We crossed paths down the hall. She looked like she was heading for the staff showers.” The student explained.

“Ah Alright! Thank you, Miss Lane.” The dean spoke, before saying goodbye and quickly departing towards the shower chambers.

The brunette practically floated towards the staff showers. She reached the door and opened it quietly. Dovey entered the showers, closing the door behind her. She heard the second to last shower running. You were humming a tune, which flowed into Clarissa’s mind with ease. It was hypnotic.

The dean came up to the shower next to yours and began to undress. She placed her clothes outside the shower and was about to step in. You heard the woman undressing and stopped humming.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? It’s just me, Clarissa” Dovey hummed.

“Oh, Hi…!” You spoke.

The brunette then just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. The sound of the water seemed to guide her.

“You weren’t at dinner.” The woman stated.

“Yeah, I had a long day and couldn’t wait to get alone and shower…” you sighed.

“Oh. Well I wanted to make sure you were okay. Apologies, if I bothered you” Clarissa breathed out, her hopes lowering.

“Not at all. Join me?” You said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

The brunettes eyes widened and her mouth went dry. She didn’t respond immediately which made you cringe at what you had just said.

“Or don’t…! I’m sorry, that sounded innapropriate, I didn’t mean anything like that!” You rushed to explain.

But the next thing you know, the shower curtain was ripped open. You gasped as the cold air hit your skin, and your eyes widened lightly at the nude frame of the dean standing in front of you. The woman’s eyes raked over your figure, making you blush. You shivered and smiled, moving to the side and allowing the brunette to enter the shower.

Dovey smiled and nodded in recognition, entering the shower and closing the curtain behind her. You two stood there awkwardly for a moment, taking in each others bodies. You shook out of your trance and offered the woman the soap in your hand.

“Let me…?” You asked.

“Yes please…” Clarissa smiled and nodded, turning her back to you.

You began to lather her neck, shoulders, and back, massaging her muscles as you cleaned her skin. The shower started to heat up more, the hot water making the trapped air warmer and more moist.

“Goodness. I needed this… thank you...” she light moaned in content.

“Of course” you hummed, “Here, let’s swap, so I can rinse you off…”

Clarissa nodded, now taking the lead and guiding you to swap shower sides, so that you faced her and the shower head and her back faced the shower head with her front facing you. The brunette pulled you closer, almost flush against her. Your breath hitched, and she looked at you expectantly. You began to rinse the soap off her back, wrapping your arms around the woman with your tits almost squishing hers. You gulped and blushed at the intimacy of it all, you swore you were two seconds away from combusting.

“May I…?” Clarissa breathlessly asked, indicating to the soap and your figure.

You bit your lip and nodded quite eagerly. Dovey smiled and began lathering the front of your body. She started at your hips, moved up to your stomache, then your ribs, up to your shoulders, and then finally to your tits. Your eyes fluttered closed as the brunette palmed and massaged your breasts, and you couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped your lips.

Your eyes shot open, your face was a deep red, and your heart was racing. The sound made Clarissa’s eyes darken and she instinctually went to wet her lips with her tongue. Your eyes locked and your ragged breaths accompanied the pattering of the water.

“Kiss me…” you breathlessly begged.

The woman’s eyes sparkled at your request, and she wasted no time in pushing you against the shower wall and smashing her lips on yours. Your hands landed on her shoulders, and hers were on your hips. The kiss was energetic and passionate, but not sloppy, the brunette knew what she was doing and you let her do it.

Clarissa’s tongue swiped along your bottom lip, already asking for permission to enter your mouth, which you happily gave her. Her tongue swirled around yours, exploring your wet cavern and dominating your mouth. Your throat spilled out a string of light moans, which the brunette swallowed with delight.

The woman’s hands slowly wandered up your figure as her mouth devoured yours. She traced your stomache lines with her fingers, going all the way up to the valley of your breasts. You instinctually leaned your chest forward to Clarissa, pleading with your body language for her to touch you more.

“Is this alright…?” The brunette teasingly cooed, her finger toying with your perked bud.

Your mouth opened and your eyes rolled back in electric pleasure. The heat of the shower only elevating the experience. You whimpered sinfully as her fingers suddenly twisted your nipple.

“I asked you a question, dear…” Clarissa reminded you with a tone of warning.

Your eyes fluttered back open and you shut your mouth immediately, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

“I… yes—! Please yes…” you stammered.

“Yes what…?” She pressed.

“I… M-mommy… Yes, mommy…” you whispered.

The woman’s features lit up in delight at your obedient response. She began now circling your other nipple, making you shiver in pleasure. Her other hand crept up to your chin, running her thumb along and inside your lip. The combination of her fingers along your body and the hot water droplets hitting your skin was making you all needy and impatient.

“Good girl…” Clarissa mused with a playful smile on her lips.

“Please Clari— Mommy… more… need more” you breathlessly begged.

“Well…—”

The brunette quirked her head and bit her lip lightly. She then picked you up, eliciting a giggled yelp from your lips. Tapping and indicating to your thighs, she had you wrap your legs around her waist. You bit your lip and looked at Clarissa with bated breath.

“—Because you asked so nicely…” she whispered in the shell of your ear, before sliding one of her digits through your folds.

You hummed in delight, leaning your body as impossibly close to her hot body as you could get. Her fingers started to circle your clit, and your hip started instinctually rocking against the brunette’s hand.

“Mommy More more please more…” you pleaded.

“You look so pretty when you beg, sweet girl” Clarissa lustfully cooed.

Before you could continue to beg the woman, two of her fingers slipped inside you. The heat, humidity, and water from the shower made it so that her digits slid in with ease, although your ever growing wetness helped too. You curled your head into the woman’s shoulder, letting strings of hums and whimpers slip out of your lips and into her ears.

Clarissa then started to pump her fingers in and out of your core, lightly curling them. She held you against the shower wall with her body; her heavy breath right next to the shell of your ear. Her lips spewing praise into your mind, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Taking mommy so well, Y/N…” the brunette purred.

Her fingers sped up their pace, the end of her digits hitting deeper within you.

“Being such a good girl…” she husked.

Her curl pattern got more distinct and calculated; her fingers hitting all the right places around your walls.

“Feels so good doesn’t it…? And I haven’t even gotten you properly wet yet, sweet girl” Clarissa groaned.

You bit your lip trying to muffle a particularly leud moan from escaping. Your hands were clawing against the woman’s back at this point. You were shaking and trying to stay up on the brunette’s waist.

“Mmmm P-p-please…” you barely stuttered, so lost in the sex fog of your mind.

Clarissa added a third finger into your fluttering pussy, carefully stretching you out. Her pace decreased as she adjusted you to her added digit, but once she’d slipped in, she sped up to push you over the edge once and for all.

You meant to ask for permission, you really did… But your orgasm hit you so suddenly, before you could say another word. Your walls desperately clenched around Clarissa’s digits, and your body shook just as desperately. Your eyes rolled back, and you bit down on her neck to muffle your loudest whine yet.

Clarissa eased you up, over, and back down from your high. She slowly eased her fingers straight and out from your core, once you had stopped spasming in pleasure. The brunette carefully placed you back on the shower floor, holding you steady so you wouldn’t fall. You were a panting mess when you met Clarissa’s gaze.

“I didn’t… didn’t ask for permission to cum…” you breathed out nervously and slightly embarrassed, “I’m sorry, mommy”

“You look so beautiful when you cum…” Clarissa mindlessly blurted out.

Your eyes went wide and your breath hitched.

“I… thank you” you said with a dry throat.

Your words finally registered with the woman, you could tell by the look of dominance and challenge on her face. She suddenly spun you around, pushing your breast and whole front against the shower wall. Her feet splayed yours farther apart, giving the brunette more access.

“Don’t worry, Angel… Mommy will give you plenty of time to beg to cum this time around…” Clarissa lustfully husked.

~~~

Clarissa Dovey Masterlist

[countrymusiclover]

6 - Directions of Truth

Princess Red Thief

Part 7

Tag list - just ask to be added @mystrey101 @melvia-ito @kmc1989 @tallrock35

Leaning against the bench outside the bus stop that picks up and drops the kids off from the school I patiently waited for Henry. I wore the red cloak this morning, feeling somewhat safe wearing it. The bus pulled up and a few kids got off before I saw the young boy who smiled coming over to me. "Hey Eve, are you walking me home?"

"Oh no. Emma still is. I just need to talk with you." I shrugged my shoulders with him sitting his backpack on the bench.

Henry looked up at me. "Talk about what?"

"You're storybook....I heard something between Mr. Gold and the mayor that didn't add up. I am hoping that you could clear something up for me." I explained to the ten year old boy.

He sat down on the bench and I sat beside him. "What did you hear?"

"Mr. Gold said his name was...Rumplestilskin. And he called the mayor, her majesty. Those names and titles can only be mentioned in your book and not in this world." Running my fingers through my hair I unclipped the red cloak laying it in my lap.

He reached inside his bag taking the book out. "Well if he's calling her that means he's awake and remembers everything."

"And if he wakes up does that look good or bad in favor of this supposed curse being broken?" I asked the kid.

He answered my question. "Yeah the more people that wake up. The better chance my birth mom will be able to break the curse. Are you starting to believe since you're asking me?"

"I don't know exactly. I just feel that something is changing in this town." My phone vibrates in my pocket reading a text from Ashley to meet her at the hospital for some reason. "Uh kid I gotta go. I'll find you to finish this conversation."

Henry called my name, making me halt in my tracks. "Eve hang on! Don't forget this." He held up the red cloak that I had dropped on the bench not thinking about it.

"Thanks, kid." I take it from his hand making my walk in the direction of the hospital. The atomic doors slid open and I saw Ashley holding her baby girl at the front desk waiting on me. "Why did you want to talk with me?"

She bounced the baby. "Shawn is at work and I don't want to go to my appointment alone."

"I understand." Nodding my head in agreement.

A nurse came around the corner waving us back to the room. "Ashley, we're ready." We walked down a hall and were left alone to talk for a little while. She sat down holding her daughter in her lap smiling at me.

"Can I ask you something, Ashley. Do you believe in fairytales?" I asked her, thinking back to my conversation with Henry.

She smiled down at her young baby. "Before I got back together with Shawn I'd say no. But thanks to Emma we can be together."

"What would you say if I told you that we might be from another land. That we might be more in this town than we think. Especially considering none of us can remember our lives before we came here."

Ashley raised a brow. "What do you mean, Eve?"

"I'm trying to say that I - that we might be fairytale characters."

The blonde still gave me a confused look before the doctor came in the room eyeing me more than my friend who was here for her checkup. "Ms. Royal, you have some visitors outside that want to see you immediately." The doctor responded where I slowly rose to my feet leaving my friend in the room.

Going back into the lobby I halted in my tracks seeing Regina standing there with some nurses that were from the Psych department downstairs in the hospital. "Ms. Royal, I was hoping to find you here."

"What is going on, Madem Mayor?" I questioned feeling uneasy where I reached for the clasp keeping the cloak on around my neck.

She clasped her hands in front of her. "I've seen you talking with my son and I think you're the one filling his head with this idea that fairy tales are real. So I think it's safer for everyone if you are mentally evaluated."

"I'm not going insane. He's ten. He should be able to believe that fairy tales can happen. We were all kids once in our lives." I snapped at the woman in front of me.

Regina sent me a glare. "It's better that he grows up like the rest of us. Now you can either go willingly or put up a fight. It's your choice."

"I choose....fight." I growled under my breath spinning on my feet bolting into a run away from the other nurses and the woman herself.

"Get her signed in downstairs." She instructed one of the nurses having them come running at me.

Running through the hospital hallways I drew out my phone typing a quick message to Gold asking for help not knowing anyone else I'd call. "Gold, I need your help. Regina is putting me in the Pysch ward for no good reason. Please help me." I hung up the phone when one of the guy nurses cornered me.

"It's best to not fight us." The guy said to me,

I attempted to get out of his grasp by baring my teeth at him. "You can't do this to me - Incendia!"

"You see my point. Now she's speaking a foreign language. I'll be back later to make sure she's settled." Regina put a hand on her hip nodding to the two men holding me before they led me away from her.

Charming and I had been riding on horseback for a few days now in search of any information on where his beloved Snow White had run off to after she told him that she didn't love him.  Dismounting my horse I stretched my legs needing to rest with him grumbling under his breath. "How does no one in this place know where she is?"

"Because she didn't get close to anyone. She thought being on her own was the best option." I responded to him.

Charming ran a hand through his hair. "Do you have anyone who could help us, Red Thief?"

"Everly." I corrected him with a half smile.

Charming apologized. "Sorry. I'm not used to knowing the woman I was arranged to marry already had a daughter."

"Maybe one day it won't be a big deal." Tucking some hair behind my ear I lowered the hood down from my head. "There's this man I have been seeing who has been giving me lessons."

The prince tilted his head. "Lessons in what exactly?"

"Would you freak out if I said magic?"

He blinked his eyes a couple of times. "Depends on what you use it for. Good or evil?"

"Let me try something. Inveniet hostium et tenebrae." I backed away from the prince, closing my eyes, picturing his castle in my mind. Waving my hand a cloud of red smoke swirled around the two of us. Once it disappeared and we looked around seeing his large castle in front of us. I nearly jumped up into the air so excited. "Hell yes. It worked!"

"That's impressive, Everly." Charming complimented before storming up to the main doors bursting his way through them. "Rumpelstiltskin! Show yourself."

Rumpelstiltskin appears behind us. "Still dressing like a prince, I see. Even though you ran away from the life I gave you. How's that for gratitude?"

"You gave me a prison sentence." He responded.

Rumpelstiltskin warned him. "Yeah, one that you've now skirted. Careful, dearie – King George is a vengeful man."

"I'm here about Snow. Rumour has it, she's after the Queen and she came to you for help." The prince drew his sword to my teacher when he smiled. "What did you do to her?"

Rumpelstiltskin laughed. "What did I do to her? You mean, what did you do to her. You caused her pain. Without that pain, she would never have drank my potion to forget about you. That's what changed her."

"Undo the potion. All magic can be broken." Charming spoke up.

Rumpelstiltskin teased him. "Oh, yes. With twoo wuv."

"So, that's it then? True love's kiss will awaken her?" Charming asked, looking towards me.

"He's told me it's the most powerful thing ever." I answered him.

"But, it's going to be hard to kiss her when you don't know where she is." Rumpelstiltskin swats Prince Charming's sword.

Charming put his sword away in his sword belt. "Name your price."

Rumple gave him a head nod to the cloak he wore and so Prince Charming takes off his cloak and places it on the table. "Where is she?"

"On her way to the Queen's Highway." He created a map sending the prince off focusing his attention to me once he had left us alone. "I saw what you did out there, Red Thief."

Whipping my head around I gave him a confused expression. "Saw what?"

"You're learning your powers quite well." Rumplestilskin responded with a smirk on his face.

I was taken back by his words. "Wow. I never thought you'd say that."

"Don't get cocky, dearie. Just know that I am beginning to think that you might be almost as powerful as me one day." My teacher declared turning on his heels leaving me stunned by what he just said to me. I wouldn't know that he was right until years later.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[exhaustedpirate]

ruff night

halloween is a state of mind so take this "trick or treat" prompt that came a little late bc logistics and fickle muse! and another entry for the CS spooky/autumnal bingo! a massive thanks to @jonesfandomfanatic for betaing!

rated T | 6190 words

also on AO3

summary: Henry loves trick or treating. He would just like a little less magic with his treats.

Halloween is coming to Storybrooke.

Henry sits Killian down a few weeks before for a ‘crash course’, as he called it, on everything related with the holiday. There were moving pictures on a small screen with bright images and even a laser pointer - a ‘powerpoint presentation’, the Swans call it. 

He is told that there are pumpkins cut into scary faces or detailed artworks; spiders, bats, skeletons and all sorts of spooky beings litter front yards, roofs, porches and windows. There’s a dangerous amount of pumpkin and cinnamon flavoured treats flowing throughout the town; and, the boy’s favourite, everyone dresses up in costumes for trick or treat.

Trick or treat, he is told, is the best part of the celebrations. Killian agrees. 

It’s a brilliant practice - adults must fill children’s buckets with candies or they get punished. Henry corrects him between giggles that the punishments are small acts of vandalism - and he wonders if vandalism is allowed only on that specific day, he had been told it was a crime. Emma tells him that it mostly involves eggs and toilet tissues thrown at someone’s house. 

Killian still thinks it’s a delightful tradition. Unfortunately, he is informed that he is too old to participate in trick or treating - he could just purchase the candy, as Emma informs him, but he and the lad both agree that earning the candy is the satisfying part.

Henry is clearly excited for the celebrations - it’s his favourite holiday, he says - especially since this year he’ll be able to go out with his friends without adult supervision. “New York was way too dangerous to go trick or treating without chaperones,” he explains. “But Storybrooke is different and both my Moms said I could go with my friends.”

He also tells him that he’s thinking of reusing his costume from last year since this is the town’s first time celebrating the holiday and he wants to show off his lonely man costume. Killian smiles and nods his way through Henry’s babbling, genuinely delighted by the boy’s excitement, before he asks Swan for clarification.

“I-It’s Han Solo,” Emma corrects him between wheezing laughter, that leaves him concerned for her wellbeing. Especially since he’s still confused. “He’s a-a- oh, god.” Emma stops trying to talk until she can get herself under control, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. “He’s like a pirate but in space.” She points to the ceiling as if to explain it but Killian thinks he remembers Henry mentioning the Stellar Battles moving pictures and how they took place among the stars.

“Oh,” Killian breathes out in understanding and there’s a fond look on Emma’s face even as she looks seconds away from bursting into laughter again. “I did think it was strange.”

“I’m kinda wishing you had asked Henry about it just to see his reaction.” She giggles and his smile widens at the sound, she really does have a beautiful laughter. “He was so excited last year, I even joined him. He tried to convince me to go as Chewey but I told him it was Princess Leia or nothing.”

Killian puts away the strange name as visions of her in red flood his mind. “Oh?”

She seems to read his mind and her cheeks turn red. “Not like that,” Emma waves him away and pulls her talking device from her jeans pocket, thumbs flying over the screen. “She’s a princess, yes, but she’s also the leader of the rebellion. Here!” 

Emma turns the screen towards him. Her hair is twisted on either side of her head, a long white flowing dress cinched at the waist with a metal belt and what looks like a pretend gun on one of her hands. Henry stands at her side also carrying the same type of weapon in his hand while wearing jeans with a loose criss cross belt, a shirt and a black vest. 

Both mother and son grin at the camera and there’s an ache in his chest that feels a lot like longing.

When he looks back at Emma, her eyes have that soft look again like she understands him and all he can do is pull her for a kiss. Her talking device ends up on the floor with a thunk, her hands grabbing onto his arms. “You like the costume, then?” She asks when they pull away to take a breath.

“Are you wearing it again this year?” He asks in lieu of a response.

She shrugs coyly and he follows the path of her tongue over her bottom lip. “Maybe.”

“Come on, guys.” The boy’s whine from the middle of the stairs causes them to jump apart. “We said no making out in public areas.”

“We were just talking about Halloween costumes, kid.” Emma innocently counters, despite Henry clearly not believing her but choosing to accept it.

“What are you wearing, Killian?”

“Um,” He moves his hand in a circular motion, still slightly overwhelmed at the idea of disguises. “Perhaps my Captain’s coat? Show everyone what the real Captain Hook is supposed to look like?”

They had watched the animated moving picture that depicted his tale and Pan’s a week ago when the subject of his change of style came up. The night had ended with Emma’s head buried in her hands and Henry muffling his laughter with a pillow as Killian ranted and complained about the plot of the story. And even though Emma's head still finds her hands now, Henry doesn’t look ready to laugh.

“No, you can’t!” Killian startles at the strength of Henry’s refusal and even Emma looks up at it. “You have to be someone different, you can go as yourself, that’s cheating.” 

“He doesn’t really know a lot about our culture, kid.” Emma reminds the boy, laying a comforting hand on Killian’s arm.

“Right, sorry,” Henry takes a deep breath, descending the stairs. “Halloween is important business,” Both adults smile at the statement and the way the boy puts his hands on his hips. There’s a sudden look of inspiration across the boys’ face. “I have an idea!”

Killian’s smile widens. “I’m all ears, my boy.” 

“If there’s one good thing that comes from you two being a couple,” Henry grins at the matching blushes on their cheeks before continuing, “is that you can complete my vision.”

“Your vision?” There’s trepidation in Emma’s voice and it reaches Killian when they both look at the way Henry’s grin turns almost wicked.

The boy had gathered his whole family in the loft’s living room and began speaking a whole different language that Emma had to translate later. Killian would take Henry’s Han Solo outfit since he and Leia are a couple - his nose had wrinkled adorably and Emma had blushed in a fetching way. 

Henry would wear a Chewbacca (and he still doesn’t understand who comes up with these names) outfit claiming it’s his favourite character and blushes when Emma points out how he and Han Solo are best friends, partners, waving away the way Killian beams at the realisation. 

The boy quickly moves on to explain that Lucas will be Luke Skywalker, Leia’s brother, making Emma smile and tickle the baby’s belly in a way that makes Killian’s heart stutter. The prince and Snow White will dress up as Anakin and Amidala. He is told Anakin is the bad guy in the movies and that confuses him. 

“Why is your grandfather a villain? Surely, there’s another character he can disguise himself as.”

Emma smirks knowingly next to him but presses her lips together, he turns to find Henry with the same expression. “Well, it’s because Anakin is L-” 

“No!”

“Don’t!”

Emma and Henry’s cries startle David into silence and the baby into spooked crying. Snow White soothes her child even as she’s trying not to laugh at everyone’s expressions.

“What?” Killian asks confusedly looking around.

“He was going to ruin the movies for you.” Henry whines and David seems to understand.

“Right, sorry, kid.”

Killian turns to Emma, still confused. She takes his hand and that is almost an incentive to be confused more often. “It’s a plot from the movies, it was a big revelation when it came out and Henry wants you to have the full experience.”

“Exactly,” Henry says, pointing at his mom. “And that’s why Grandad is going as Anakin and not Darth Vader.” He looks pointedly at David who looks chastised before turning to Snow. “And grandma is Queen Amidala.”

“This would have been the perfect time to have my long hair again.”

Killian’s frown is giving me a headache. “This is very confusing.”

“All you have to know,” Emma leans her shoulder against his, “is that you are a smuggler with an awesome spaceship, a self-centred pirate with a superiority complex that ends up joining the good guys.” He raises his eyebrow at her and she grins before a blush creeps up onto her cheeks as she continues. “And you are enamoured with a rebellious princess who pretends to not feel the same.”

“So, you don’t really have to pretend too much.” Henry grins at the two of them with his comment, making his grandparent’s laugh. Emma’s blush deepens and Killian’s smile widens as he leans closer to her. 

“Lad’s right, it should be easy.”

And that’s how Killian ends up walking down the streets of Storybrooke dressed in a more well-fitted version of Henry’s Han Solo costume. And he has to admit, it suits him extremely well.

Orange, purple and black decorations fill the street in the short walk from Granny’s to Snow and Charming’s loft. Children laugh and cheer at their buckets and many wave and smile at him. He sees familiar characters from Henry’s storybook and others from the moving pictures and books that Emma and the lad have been slowly introducing to him. It’s all strange and fantastic and he is in a good mood - and it doesn’t let up even when a snivelling teenager dressed up as the colourful version of Peter Pan tries to spook him.

The buzzing of the talking device hidden in one of the pockets in his belt has him shoving the plastic gun under his arm and pulling it up, laughing at the message from Emma - please hurry, my mom is already tipsy.

He’d gotten better at typing with one hand as he responded - 5 minutes love and henry? And maybe he got faster because he wrote smaller messages and was more lenient over grammar but who was going to blame him?

trick or treating, you might find him on the way

As if she had the gift of clairvoyance, a bright light flashes in his face signalling Henry’s friend Hansel dressed as another character from the Star Battles. The boy is dressed in a golden sparkly fabric and moves as if his body was made of metal, giggling every time he stumbles and glistening under the streetlights. Gretel shuffles around in a blue and white cardboard box with clothes to match the colour. Henry completes the group in his fursuit, head encased in a hood made of the same fur, a belt just like Killian’s from his shoulder to his hip. 

Maybe he can check in with the lad, perhaps relieve him of one of his candies. He looks to be arguing with Gretel now who takes the lead of the group, Hansel forgets his enjoyment of the character when his sister says something because he too looks like he’s trying to stop her. Frowning, he watches as they knock on a door - the sound reaching him as he approaches - of a house without decorations but naturally suited for the holiday. Henry pulls her by the hand and they all take a step back.

A shriek reaches him even before the door opens. He sees a mess of lavender hair surrounding a short older woman’s head and a menacing voice rises up. Henry manages to pull Gretel behind him and he only sees a green spark of magic from the witch’s hand before he starts running, his plastic gun lost on the ground. 

Next thing he knows, the children are screaming, his body hurts and the world turns dark.

---

Half an Hour Earlier

“Look at how much candy we have!” Nic- Hansel’s grin is wide as he lifts his arm in a robotic move making all the candy inside rattle.

“We’re going to rot our teeth with our haul tonight.” Gretel matches his grin, struggling to look inside her bucket over her disguise.

“I told you that our costumes were going to be a hit.” Henry gushes, fixing the strap over his chest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hansel says as he stumbles over his steps letting out a giggle. “You’re just lucky you changed your mind in time. Dad was about to order my Darth Vader helmet.” 

Hansel, from the fable, was talking about Star Wars while his sister, Gretel, recites how much she loves R2D2 in front of his very eyes. He loves his life.

“-just cool. You never told us why you wanted to change the group costumes, Henry?” Gretel asks and Henry hopes that the hoodie in his fursuit covers his blushed cheeks.

“I wanted to match my families’ costumes.” Henry shrugs. The twins look at him with narrowed eyes and he wants to laugh at the way the gold spray is flaking off Hansel’s eyebrows but is too busy hiding his face.

“Right,” Hansel draws out. “It’s not like you were super excited to be Han Solo or anything,” he says sarcastically.

“I prefer Chewbacca,” Henry says defensively.

“And it has nothing to do with Captain Hook being Han Solo instead?” Gretel bumps him and manages not to stumble against the cardboard edges.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about.” He crosses his arms, huffing. “And it’s Killian.”

The twins laugh and he quickens his pace, annoyed. “You know Henry, it’s okay to like him.” Gretel edges, rushing to meet up with him. Hansel, true to his character, tries to catch up to them in his robotic walk. “I mean, your mom does and he’s not a villain anymore.”

“I know that,” he mutters, relaxing his arms. “I just don’t want to force it on him.”

“I really don’t think-”

“Oh, what’s that?” Hansel interrupts them, stopping in front of a house on the other side of the street.

They all turn to it and Henry holds back a shiver. It looks more like a cottage than a house, even if it is in the middle of the suburban street. The roof is missing tiles, the paint on the outside is peeling off, the front lawn is either dry or missing and the front gate creeks in the wind. For some reason, this doesn’t look like someone who’s just a big fan of Halloween.

“They went all out.” Gretel grins. “Look at those.” 

The trio follows her finger towards the signs written in dripping paint - “Stay away!” “Get out!” and “No children!” scattered across the lawn. He remembered Regina talking about how she made a deal with the other more unruly citizens to keep their shenanigans to themselves, or else. The open ended threat was something he chose to ignore. Adult stuff.

“Let’s go!” Gretel urges them, taking a step forward only to be stopped by Henry’s grip on her wrist.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he warns, hearing Hansel whimper out an agreement. “It could be dangerous. It could be a witch.”

Unfortunately that looks to embolden the girl, puffing out her chest and pulling her wrist from Henry’s grip. “We aren’t afraid of witches.”

He chases after her when she strides up to the door, Hansel forgetting his portrayal of the character as he mutters. “Talk for yourself.”

“Gretel, don’t-” But she knocks and he finally manages to pull her back a few steps. 

A delighted shriek-like laughter sounds out, startling them into taking another step back. Light purple hair is the first they see when the door opens, before they raise their head so they can see an older woman with almost glowing green eyes. Despite the fear, Henry is almost amused that she looks almost exactly like the movie, if not for the menacing look in her face. 

Madam Mim.

“You’re supposed to keep away.” The witch glowers at them, fingernails gripping the doorframe. “How dare you invade my home!?”

Henry manages to pull Gretel behind him just as he sees Mim’s hand glow with green magic. He hears the twins’ stomps as they run away and inhales a sharp breath when she hurtles the ball of magic towards him, out of time to get away. 

They all scream until, suddenly, he’s being pushed to the ground as the green magic finds another target. Henry looks up, eyes wide.

“Killian!” He calls out as the man is enveloped in a green cloud of magic, Madam Mim laughing hysterically from her porch.

When the cloud dissipates, a large, skinny dog sits where Killian stood before. The animal shakes its head and stumbles as it stands, due to its missing paw. That causes Mim more amusement as her laughter grows louder. Henry looks between the dog, who is observing himself and whining, the witch cackling away and the twins outside of the front gate, shuffling in pace as if considering going back in to help but too scared to do so.

“Bring him back.” Henry finds himself recklessly standing between Dog-Killian and the witch, his tone demanding. “Now!”

“I believe you are aware of a fantastic concept from this land’s law.” Mim speaks calmly as she approaches, her eyes wide with glee. “Private property.” She touches his forehead and he hears growling from behind him. “Which allows me to do anything I want with you.” She giggles and claps her hands before shrugging. “Under the guise of self-defence, of course. Now, what do you prefer? Cat or toad?”

“No, you-”

“Dealer’s choice it is!”

Her hand raises and there are the green sparks again but before it can fully form, the witch lets out a yelp. Killian’s canines are sinking into the witch’s arm and he manages to let go before she sends a blast of magic, throwing the two of them at Hansel and Gretel’s feet. 

“I’m done playing with the lot of you,” Madam Mim yells, a storm cloud generating above her property. “Get out!”

Lightning strikes far too close to them and they set off running, a loud barking sounds as the children scream. They only stop when the loft is in sight, catching their breath on the sidewalk. 

“That was crazy!”

“It’s your fault, Gretel!”

“What?!”

“Witches! You-”

Henry lets the twin’s bickering float around him as he pushes the fur hood from his head. He can only look at the large slim dog in front of him, who looks back at him with blue eyes. The animal’s black fur shines in the street lights and its height reaches close to Henry’s chest. Despite the missing front left paw, it’s holding itself up casually.

“K-Killian?” He mutters quietly and the dog takes a hopping step towards him before letting out a soft woof, like a reply, like the ‘aye’ he would have said if he could.

Because Killian was a dog now.

Killian was a dog.

Henry sinks his fingers into his hair. “My Mom is going to kill me!”

That effectively shuts the twins up, Gretel’s cardboard costume dented on the front from where he’s sure their argument started to turn into a brawl. They look at Henry confused before their eyes settle on the animal nudging his nose into Henry’s chest and huffing at the fur tickling its nose and they gasp.

“Captain Hook is a dog!” Gretel shrieks, bringing her hands to cover her mouth.

“An Irish wolfhound, to be exact,” Hansel mumbles, eyes wide as the dog huffs once more. “What do we do?”

“What can we do?! We don’t have magic and we are not going back to that lunatic!” Gretel keeps her tone, a much different attitude than before.

The d-Killian carefully latches his teeth to the belt across his body and pulls once before taking a few steps to the left and barking. Henry frowns in confusion and Killian barks twice more, the sound as deep as his voice usually is, and taking a few more hopping steps. Henry looks up and sees that they are standing in front of the loft.

“No,” Henry shakes his head and Killian approaches him again, tilting his head. “We need to figure this out before we go see Mom! She can’t see you like this.” Killian huffs and opens his mouth as if to speak whining when he remembers he can’t. 

“Your Mom has magic,” Hansel explains and Killian barks, his tail wagging before huffing at his reaction. “I think he is saying that your Mom can turn him back.” Killian barks once more and the boy grins patting the animal’s head. Henry wants to laugh at the way the pirate was clearly enjoying the pats before taking a step back in indignation at himself.

Henry looks between his companions. Gretel seems to have calmed down from her panic now that there’s a plan, Hansel is looking at the animal like he wants to cuddle up with him and Killian is looking at him with human-like eyes and with that trust he craves so much. He pulls on his hair once more before Killian’s quiet woof stops him.

“My Mom is going to kill me…”

---

The music that they could hear from the lobby is louder as they climb up the stairs. Hansel and Gretel bring up the rear as brother helps sister with her cardboard costume and Henry walks next to Killian worried about stairs and the dog’s lack of paw. 

But for all that it was a crazy situation, Killian had acclimated quite easily to the new body.

The loft door was open and he could see Archie, dressed as a peacock looking bird, colourful fabrics covering his tall body, running after a khaki wearing Pinocchio who was carrying a handful of candy. Pongo zooms by in a simple collar with a large red ball glued on it, strangely not even seeming to notice Killian’s new form. Marco walks briskly after them, carrying a cane with tennis balls glued to the end and wearing a suit. 

Right, Pinocchio had been really into “Up” recently. They looked cute.

Henry stops right at the door when he sees his mom right by the door, phone in hand, white dress flowing down to her feet and her hair in buns on either side of her head. Gretel is barely able not to crash against him, being stabilised by her brother. Killian whines next to him and that catches Emma’s attention.

“Henry,” she sighs relieved, sparing the dog a confused glance. “You weren’t answering my texts.” Her tone is admonishing but the relief is louder.

“Hmm, sorry,” he mumbles and she frowns, probably at the look on their faces. 

“Is everything okay?” She crosses her arms and looks at them searching. “Did you find Killian on the way? He’s also not answering his texts.”

Killian whines next to him again, clearly not able to control his animalistic reactions, and sits on the floor looking up at Emma. That catches her eye and her frown deepens.

“Who-” She starts, pointing towards the dog, glancing between all of them and their loud silence before her eyes widen as she locks eyes with the animal, inching his nose closer to her index finger. He can feel the tension the five of them create.

“Henry!” Mary Margaret greets, draping an arm around Emma’s shoulder. Her tone is loud and her cheeks are red. If he had to guess, his grandmother is drunk. “You guys look so good!” Her white outfit matches Emma’s but instead of a dress is a body suit, a belt on her waist and tall white boots. He doesn’t know how she did it but her wig looks almost natural. “But I don’t think there are dogs in space, Henry,” She wags a finger and it’s clear that she would have fallen if not for her daughter’s presence. “Even if it is very realistic,” She muses. “Who’s that?”

“Killian.”

His grandmother giggles and he thinks his mom has gone paler. “Killian?” She bends over the dog and pets his head. “That’s funny,” Her nails scratch under Killian’s muzzle and he begins to stretch his neck and his tail begins to wag. “Hi, Killian.” Snow coos and it’s that that makes Killian rear back and bark, causing his grandma to straighten up.

Emma shakes herself out of her stupor at the sound. “Killian is a dog?!”

Someone stops the music behind them and the party quiets, everyone looking at the group huddled by the door. His grandfather approaches them with stumbling steps and a lazy smile - are both his grandparents drunk? - and holds his wife’s hand, while securely holding baby Luke - dressed as Luke, ha - in his arms. The black outfit looks great on him, the layering perfectly arranged and even the little braid doesn’t look ridiculous on him. If Henry wasn’t so busy freaking out, he would have been proud of the group costumes they arranged. 

“Come on, Emma, it’s Halloween, don’t ju- oh, shit!” 

The revelation seems to sober the two of them up as his family looks with wide eyes at the large dog beside him. Killian whines quietly and shuffles closer to Henry. All he can think to do is put a hand on the animal’s head. 

“Right, okay,” Emma rubs her mouth as she looks around. “You two,” she points at the twins who squeak in surprise, “get in, sit down, have a hot cocoa. I’ll let your dad know that you got here safe.” Emma takes a step to the side.

Gretel pats his back and they both send him apologetic looks as they walk in, letting Granny - dressed as Mrs. Hudson - fuss over them. Emma sends a glancing look behind her shoulder and a Mario-looking Leroy resumes the music, gesturing for everyone to resume the party.

“You,” Emma points at Henry and Killian and both of them startle. “Upstairs, now.” Underneath the anger, he could hear the worry loud and clear.

Henry spares a quick glance towards Killian before they rush upstairs. He hears Emma tell his grandparents to stay downstairs and keep the party going. Henry sits on the bed, hands tucked between his knees while Killian sits next to him on the floor, body slightly shaking.

Emma’s head appears at the stairs as she joins them, and she sighs as if she had forgotten the situation. She then stands in front of them with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

“You really do look like Leia, Mom…” Henry mutters.

“Thanks, kid.” Her lips curve up into a small smile, aware of how worried her son is, before she takes a deep breath and forces herself to relax her shoulders. “But I really need you to tell me what happened.”

Killian bumps his body against his leg, his eyes looking so encouraging, and he can almost imagine the reassuring smile that he would send him if he could. Henry sighs.

“We were trick or treating, the three of us, and there was this house that looked like someone was really into Halloween, you know? But I know that Mom said there were still people around from the Enchanted Forest that didn’t want to integrate,” His mom’s shoulders tense again. “Anyway, we knocked on the door-” Killian huffs next to him but Henry shakes his head and Emma frowns. “We knocked on the door. Madam Mim lived in the house.”

Emma’s frown deepens. “The one from the ‘Sword in the Stone’? That Madam Mim?” 

“Yup.”

“Right, of course,” Emma sighs, rubbing her temples. “Carry on.”

“Well, she didn’t like the fact that we were on her property and tried to curse me.” Henry cleared his throat and rubbed his knees against his hands, looking at the railing of the loft. “Killian pushed me out of the way of the spell and…you know.” Henry gestures towards the animal next to him and then looks up to find his mom looking at the dog with a different look, a soft look.

“Killian-” She starts, her arms falling to her sides, her tone almost a whisper, but Killian barks to stop her. Barking a couple more times as if he’s explaining something but huffs and whines when he realises no words are coming out.

Emma sighs and kneels in front of Killian, his head reaching her from where he sits on the floor. Her hands frame his face and her thumbs rub under his eyes and Killian’s eyes flutter shut and a rumbling noise surrounds his frame. His mom kisses between his eyes before whispering a soft gratitude, causing Killian to huff as if to deny it. She sits back on her heels as they look at each other. It made for an intimate moment, one that he should feel weird witnessing but it just made his chest feel warm. 

“His eyes are the same,” Emma muses as if she hadn’t meant for the thought to come out. “I mean-”

“Yeah, it’s like you can see the expressions he makes,” Henry agrees, blushing when his mom looks up at him. 

“I know what you mean.” She pats his knee and Killian licks her cheek causing her to laugh. Emma looks at the dog pretending not to be amused before she sighs and stands up. “What are we going to do?”

The weight of guilt on his chest hits him suddenly and he sucks in a breath. “I-I’m sorry, Mom.” His voice wavers and he looks away to keep his eyes from watering. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Henry,” she sighs, tucking a finger under his chin to make him look up at her, her expression understanding and soft. He feels Killian’s weight against his leg. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“H-How?” he whispers.

Emma presses her lips together and glances between the two of them. “I’m gonna call Regina, I don’t know if just waving my hand is gonna be enough.” He nods and she rubs her thumb over his cheek. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

His mom pats Killian’s head who tries to lick her wrist, she sighs out a laugh before taking her phone from one of her belt pockets. With a last look back at the two of them, she steps out the window to sit on the fire escape. 

Henry sighs as soon as they’re alone, hiding his face in his hands. What did he do? How could such a fun night end so terribly? Why couldn’t he have been better at stopping Gretel? Henry groans in frustration and sorrow. What if Killian can never change back? What if he is stuck as a dog forever? 

A weight on his tight and a low whine brings him out of his panic. He looks down to see Killian’s big blue eyes looking up at him with concern and he can almost see the furrowed brow he would have if he was human - but that look just makes him feel worse. Killian should be mad, disappointed, not concerned over him.

“I’m so sorry, Killian,” Henry whispers, his eyes watering as he slips down the bed until he sits on the floor. “This is all my fault, I-”

As carefully as he can, Killian slips his head under Henry’s chin to lay on his shoulder. Henry doesn’t want to wait, to be careful - his arms wrap around the dog’s body and pull him into his hold, even if Killian is just as big as him like this. He doesn’t seem to mind much, there’s only a huff of surprise before he surrenders to the hug, that low rumbling noise from before louder now that they were so close.

Warmth spreads over his chest and he feels his tears slipping down his cheeks but he feels comforted, even if there aren’t arms wrapped around him or a hand caressing his head like Emma likes to do. Killian lets himself be hugged and the way his head digs into his shoulder tells him that he would hug him back if he could.

“Thank you,” Henry whispers and Killian whines as if trying to refuse the gratitude but he just holds the dog closer to him. “If it wasn’t for you, I would be the one barking around.” Killian huffs and Henry lets a soft smile stretch his lips and pulls away enough that Killian manages to sit between his legs. “You bit her too,” Henry giggles at Killian’s low growl and a soft bark and he can see the fierceness in the dog’s face, the protectiveness and his face softens into a look of wonder. “You protected me, you care about me.” Killian licks his cheek almost shyly and Henry grins before pulling him back into a hug.

“Regina, I’m really gonna need you to stop laughing,” Emma huffs as she climbs back into the room and both of them look at her sigh exasperatedly. “And I am not taking a picture, I’m n- goodbye.” She punches the phone screen before looking at Henry and Killian, her expression turning soft at the sight in front of her.

“Did she know how to break the curse?”

“Uhm, yeah, yeah,” Emma shakes her head, putting her phone back into her belt. “She says I should be able to just turn him back.”

Henry releases the tension he didn’t know he was carrying in his shoulders and his arms fall to his legs with a relieved sigh. Killian’s tail wags and he barks and twirls excitedly. “That’s great.”

“I know, kid.” Emma chuckles and waves her hand. 

A cloud of white smoke surrounds Killian and when it dissipates, Killian - human Killian - is sprawled back on the floor, elbows supporting his upper body, and dressed like Han Solo.

“Bloody hell.” Killian sighs and it’s such a relief to hear his voice that Henry can’t keep himself from jumping to hug him properly.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” Henry murmurs against his shoulder.

“It’s good to be back, my boy.”

“I agree,” Emma chuckles and when they look up, she has that soft look on her face again. 

“Swan,” she holds out her hands for the two of them to get up and Killian pulls her into a hug once they have their feet under them, “Thank you so much.”

“I’m just happy it’s over.” Their lips meet each other in a chaste kiss, aware of the child in the room. “Do you think you feel well enough to join the others?”

“Aye,” He chuckles, holding her hand. “I’m eager to use my two legs and show off my beautiful space princess.”

Emma blushes and pushes his shoulder even as she smiles. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She turns towards a grinning Henry holding out her arms. “Did we complete your vision, kid?”

He is ready to say yes, just happy to be with them without any more curses over them, before he frowns. “You’re missing your gun.” Henry almost accuses, pointing at Killian before his eyes widen. “Our candy!”

Emma frowns, confused. “What?”

“We must have dropped it by the witch’s house!” Henry covers his head with his hands in annoyance.

Killian’s hand covers the boy’s shoulder. “We can always retrieve it l-”

“You guys will never believe this!”

A familiar voice calls out from downstairs and the trio looks over the railing towards the door. Ruby, dressed in a dark suit, with a short skirt instead of pants, holds up three very familiar buckets of candy. “We just found these things full of candy outside!”

“Our candy!” Gretel calls out, rushing from her spot on the couch followed by her brother.

Belle giggles at Ruby’s pout as she is relieved of her treasure - she is also dressed in a short skirt dark suit but there is a familiar hat on top of her curls and he remembers her gushing about The Greatest Detective and how she and Ruby would be dressing up as Sherlock and Watson for Halloween. Everyone was being so good at this holiday.

“There was also this strange weapon,” Belle muses, holding up Henry’s old blaster pistol that he had lent Killian. “Is it yours too?”

“Actually, it’s mine,” Killian calls out and everyone downstairs cheers when they see him in his human form. Henry swears he sees the man’s cheeks blush at it when he looks down at him. “I was committed to your vision, my boy.”

Henry blushes now as he grins. “Then it’s perfect, you guys did amazing.” Emma leans against Killian with a happy smile before reaching to ruffle Henry’s hair.

“You know, I actually enjoyed this Halloween,” Killian comments with a smirk. “But I much prefer the treats rather than the tricks.” 

As they laugh together, Henry hopes that this warm feeling stays there forever.