#lmao received very bad news today

[yay-depression]

me for the past hour: 🎵do not relapse relapsing is a bad thing. do not relapse relapsing is a bad thing. do not relapse relapsing is a bad thing. do not relapse…🎵

[aemondsbabe]

Oathkeeper

summary: aemond comes to winterfell to vie for favor and while cregan has his mind set on backing rhaenyra, you remain unswayed. will your indecision be his saving grace?

pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, brat taming, aemond is a little shit, choking, mild degradation, oral sex (f receiving), very lyanna mormont coded reader, aemond whimpers, he's down bad tbh he loves it, angst, allusions to violence but no actual violence, please no one kill me for the end lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.1k

a/n: happy 3k laura!! i'm so happy to be a part of this collab with you and so many of my other fantastically talented writer friends! check out the full milestone celebration here and the masterlist will be here!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

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Icy air whips around you as you stand atop one of the many high stone battlements of Winterfell, eyes scanning the horizon; the grey earth and sky seem to meld together as one as the sun sets lower and lower. 

“It is our duty to hear them out, sister,” Cregan rumbles beside you, brow furrowed. Ice glimmers in your periphery when you glance over at him, the great sword strapped over your brother’s shoulder contrasts sharply against the deep black of the furs draped over his body, “If they come to us for aid, we must negotiate.”

The air around your lips turns to mist as you scoff, jaw clenched. Today, of all days, you could do without your brother’s condescending tone. 

“Negotiate,” you echo, pulling the thick white fur of your cloak more snugly over your shoulders as the wind seems to pick up, “They come with hardly any notice, with two dragons, and you still believe this is a negotiation?”

“Sister –”

“To call it anything but extortion is a fool’s game, Cregan,” you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused only on the horizon, when he turns to glare at you, nostrils flared. 

“Need I remind you that we are sworn to House Targaryen? That we have been for –”

“Which House Targaryen?” You swiftly counter, cutting your gaze to his with a biting scowl of your own. The wind gusts again yet you pay it no mind, hardly noticing when a shadow passes overhead. 

An all encompassing roar seems to vibrate the very air around you and you whip your head up just in time to see a behemoth of a beast duck down below the clouds, followed swiftly by a smaller, though no less monstrous, one that lets out a resounding cry of its own. 

“Gods be good,” you sigh, already feeling weary of this whole endeavor; you roll your eyes when you look to Cregan, only to find him positively beaming, entranced. You, however, would not be so easily wooed – of that, you were determined. 

Glowering, you turn your face to the sky once more and watch as the creatures circle one another, huffing when it dawns on you that their movements strikingly resemble two riders racing on horseback, goading and taunting one another. 

Shaking your head, your chest heaves with a tired groan, Seven Hells.

“I shall see you in the Great Hall when you have finished fawning,” you sigh once more before turning, leaving your brother to stand like some open-mouthed whore, gawping at the sky.

“My Prince and… my Prince,” Cregan’s voice echoes throughout the great stone hall, accompanied by the steady crackle of the enormous fireplace at its back wall, “We bid you welcome to the North, I trust your journey’s were pleasant ones.” 

The tension in the air is nearly palpable as you stand beside your brother, carefully watching the two dragonriders.The one on the left, Prince Jacaerys, stares straight ahead at Cregan, as if he doesn’t trust himself to look anywhere else. His dark brows are set in a slight scowl and his gloved hand hasn’t once risen from the pommel of his sword since he dismounted his dragon, who you’ve been informed bears the name Vermax.

Your gaze, however, seems continually pulled to the right, determined to see through the cool mask of indifference Prince Aemond wears. Unlike Jacaerys, his singular lilac eye had been busy flicking all about the space, though he stood stock still with a haughty manner about him, hands clasped behind his back. 

“‘Twas a fine journey, yes,” Aemond hums, looking first at Cregan and then to you; his gaze is piercing and you can’t help but wonder if the rumors among the smallfolk are true – that he’d replaced his lost eye with some sort of gemstone, “Vhagar and I were fortunate to not encounter… anything of note.”

Your eyes move quickly to Jacaerys, breaking from Aemond’s stare once you catch the pointed tone of his words, slicing through the air like daggers. His jaw clenches, though only for a second, as you silently pray that this does not end in the two men coming to blows, or worse. 

“My journey was quite pleasant, my Lord Stark, thank you,” a small part of you is impressed that he seems determined not to let his emotions run amuck. He steps forward and pulls a rolled piece of parchment from the inner pocket of the thick, fur-lined cloak he wears, “I come with a message from my mother, the Queen.”

Beside him, Aemond quickly steps forward as well, producing a similar scroll, close enough to you that you’re able to just make out an image of House Targaryen’s three-headed dragon embossed on the golden wax seal. “And I come bearing a message from King Aegon, Second of His Name,” he pauses, looking between you and Cregan, glancing almost imperceptibly toward Prince Jacaerys, “Who currently sits the Iron Throne.”

“Usurper,” Jacaerys mutters under his breath, nose twitching in annoyance.

“Say that again,” Aemond’s voice is low as he whips around to face Jacaerys, all but shoving the scroll he brought into your hands. 

“That is my mother’s throne,” the brunette replies, simmering with a barely contained rage as he hands over Rhaenyra’s terms to Cregan in a similar manner, “Your drunken fool of a brother has no right to it.”

Your heart thrums in your chest as they stare one another down, the hostility between them seems to suck all the air from the room and bathe it in a silence you’ve only ever felt in the crypts. 

“And who would bend the knee for a whore with bastard heirs, nephew?” Aemond’s footfalls echo about the hall as he stalks around the other prince, circling him with a goading smirk, “She could not honor the oaths made to her husband, I shudder to think what would become of her promises to the realm.”

Your eyes widen and a gasp is wrenched from your throat when Jacaerys whirls around with a snarl and the sound of metal-on-metal grates through the air as both men unsheath decorated daggers from their belts; they stumble a few steps back, chests heaving as they each wait for the other to make the first move. 

“Do it,” Aemond taunts, lips twisted into a wicked smile while he and Jacaerys circle one another. Raising a hand, he pulls the black leather eyepatch from his face and tosses it to the floor, clearly relishing the way the other prince falters at the sight of his uncovered face. The deep blue sapphire he reveals gleams in the light from the fire, the sight of it makes your breath hitch, “Finish what your bastard brother started, go on.”

“Cease this!” Cregan shouts, voice firm, though he may as well not have spoken at all for all the good it does – each man only sparing him a glance. 

“I did not come to fight you,” the brunette huffs, scowling at his uncle while keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his dagger.

“No?” Aemond questions sardonically, “You’ve no wish to prove your might, hm? To show the realm how strong you are?”

The remark sounds like any other taunt to you, yet something about it seems to make the fire simmering within Jacaerys blaze closer to the surface – too close. You can see it coming before it happens from the way he tenses, from the miniscule twitch of his hand.

Acting quickly, you lunge for the great longsword strapped to your brother’s back and unsheath it without a second thought. Cregan reacts just as swiftly and clambers for you when you turn on your heel and rush over to where the two men glower at one another. From the corner of your eye, you see Jacaerys lunge forward but you cut off his movement as you swing Ice over your head. 

Metal crashes against metal, filling the hall with a shrill clang, before the great sword slams against the stone floor with a cacophonous din. Everything comes to a sudden halt as the loud noise sends a shock through the hall. 

“Enough!” The word leaves your lips as a snarl while you stare between the two men, nose twitching in annoyance, “How dare you sully our home with such feckless, asinine bickering!” 

Each of the princes sheaths his dagger in silence, though you hold the sword between them still, the tip of it digging into the stone as you keep hold of the pommel. “I’ve no doubt that were those creatures outside to engage like this that they could easily rip Winterfell to pieces, stone by stone, and yet they remain peaceful! Tell me, do you have baser morals than that of a beast?” Your voice is low as you speak, every ounce of patience you had for this idiotic farce wrung from you, “Is this the kind of man House Targaryen sets upon the realm?” 

“Apologies, my lady… my lord,” Jacaerys murmurs, glancing between you and Cregan before quickly staring down at the floor, his jaw set. 

You give him a curt nod before training your eyes on the silver-haired prince and narrowing them expectantly; he holds your gaze for only a second before looking off into the fire with a sigh, “Apologies.” 

Cregan reaches for the sword again and this time you relinquish it without a fight, turning your attention back to the two scrolls abandoned on the longtable – one carrying a gold seal, the other a black one, both bearing the three-headed dragon emblem.

Your brother sighs behind you and you can practically feel him throwing an icy glance at the two men before he joins you at the table, leaning back against the edge of it and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“We will hear your terms,” he starts, ignoring the way your head whips around to face him, “As is our sworn duty, but there will be no violence in these halls.”

“No.”

“Sister –”

“Not tonight,” you shake your head firmly, glancing over your shoulder at the princes before leaning closer to Cregan, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry in through the hall, “‘Tis late and they are on edge as is. Any negotiations will not go peacefully tonight.”

He turns his head toward you with a soft sigh; you tilt your head just slightly when your eyes meet, communicating silently, with only a look, as you have since the two of you were small. 

“Please,” you think, your gaze flicking between his blue eyes, lips set in a firm line, “Listen to me, just this once.”

Finally, after a long moment, he simply nods and looks back at the two men still standing in the hall, looking pointedly away from each other now. 

“We will hear your terms in the morning,” you announce, turning to face them, your expression set and neutral, “The hour is late and I imagine the two of you are tired from your travels, the –”

“Lady Stark,” Aemond starts, stepping forward, jaw clenched with barely contained annoyance, “W–”

“We will hear your terms in the morning and that is final, my prince,” you repeat, enunciating each word firmly, leaving no room for whatever argument he was intending to make. You glance between the two men again, watching as he gives a polite, stiff nod. 

Sighing tiredly, you give Cregan one last withering look before turning on your heel. “The servants will show you to your quarters,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing the gold sealed scroll from the longtable on your way to the doors without sparing the men another look. 

By the grace of the Gods, you manage to have a few peaceful hours to yourself. The castle remains quiet, save for the usual bustling of various servants and guards. The crackling of the small hearth in your chambers is the only sound that accompanies you while you read over the terms Prince Aemond brought with him, which were fairly generous, all things considered. 

Only one point gave you pause, perhaps King Aegon’s greatest gift – the offer of his brother’s hand. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when you read over that bit, although you had expected it. It’s no secret that you, Winterfell’s greatest prize as you’d been told time and time again since you were old enough to even somewhat comprehend the idea of marriage, are unclaimed. Of course the Greens would exploit that, the Blacks probably did as well.

Of course any other weaker Lady would take the offer. 

Unconsciously, you clench your jaw as you gaze into the fire, watching the flames dance while you think over the terms set before you, etched cleanly on the parchment. You get up from your place at the desk to go see if Cregan has finished reading over Rhaenyra’s terms, quite curious to see what it is she’s offering up. 

“Gods!” You exclaim when a sudden knock at your chamber door cuts through the peaceful silence of the night, startles you enough that you grab at the edge of your desk to keep the bottle of ink there from spilling. Corking it, you let out an annoyed little grumble as you stand.

“Enter!” You call out, smoothing out the silken, fur lined fabric of your evening robes, the soft blue color sparkling like seafoam in the light from the fire. Your brows pinch together in equal parts annoyance and intrigue as a certain white-haired prince saunters through the door, his lips set together in a firm line, as if deep in thought. 

“Prince Aemond,” you huff, bristling when he closes the door behind him, “The hour is quite late, surely whatever you’ve come for can wait until the morning.”

He pauses at that, not moving from his place in the entryway. Confusion wells up within you when he doesn’t meet your gaze, his lilac eye blinking as his lips open just slightly – something clearly weighs quite heavily on his mind. 

“I apologize for the late hour, my Lady,” he murmurs, finally looking up as he takes a few steps into your chambers, arms clasped behind his back, “But I do not think the matter can wait until morning, no. I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“Speak, then,” you nod with a sigh, resting against the arm of a small sofa by the fire. You try your best to hide your annoyance, feeling certain that whatever the Prince had come to you with is not nearly as serious as he seems to believe.

Aemond remains quiet for a few seconds more and you can practically see the wheels turning in his brain, something brewing just below the surface. “I… Did you intend to make a fool of me, Lady Stark?”

“What?”

“I’m aware that my coming, and that of my nephew, were… sudden,” he continues, leaving you utterly perplexed, which only makes you clench your jaw, already exasperated at this entire exchange, “But, had you and Lord Cregan made it clear that you had already come to an agreement, I could’ve left — been on my way to the Stormlands and saved us all the trouble.” 

“Seven Hells, why must he speak in riddles,” you think, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching your brow tiredly. 

“Prince Aemond, perhaps I could be of some help if you spoke your concerns more plainly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and peering at him once more, “However, I can assure you that Cregan and I have decided nothing. He and I have planned to take the evening to read over yours and Prince Jacaerys’s terms, which we will discuss in the morning.” 

“Mm, then am I to believe that your lord brother plots without your knowledge, my Lady? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aemond paces, smirking as he traipses back and forth before you, acting like he can see clearly through some false plot you’ve set… if only you’d set one at all. 

“I overheard them, Cregan and Jace, in the library — I cannot seem to find sleep and thus was wandering the halls,” he murmurs, quickly explaining his actions before you have time to ask, “Surely you’re aware that your brother intends to support my traitorous sister.” 

His words should come as a shock, that Cregan would do something like this behind your back, and yet you can’t find it within yourself to be truly surprised. Ever since he’d become Warden of the North, he’d become… hardened, even to you. Before, he would’ve never dared do this, would’ve considered your thoughts as carefully as his own, but not anymore. 

“My brother may be decided,” you start, voice clipped, “But I have yet to come to a decision.” 

The prince hums yet again, something he seems to do often much to your great displeasure. He studies you for a moment, lilac eye never wavering from yours, before looking away with a tsk. “And yet, from what I overheard, he seems quite convinced that you have.” 

You scoff at that and push yourself off the arm of the sofa, placing your hands on your hips as you blink at him for a moment while the corners of your lips twitch with the threat of a smirk, “I must confess, my Prince, but I do not know how to proceed. We seem to be at an impasse – I assure you of one thing and yet you cling to your belief in another.”

“So it would seem.”

His calm reply does nothing to lessen your irritation and your chest heaves with a sigh, jaw clenching. “Well, then,” you huff, no longer patient enough to keep the frustration out of your tone, “What would you have me do, hm?”

“Perhaps,” your eyes narrow at the indifference with which he speaks – an act, you’re sure of it, “It would bring me some comfort if we could come to some… agreement of our own. As your brother and my nephew seem so eager to do.”

“As I’ve said, I do not wish to discuss the matter further. ‘Tis late, my Prince, and I see no point in staying up half the night to do something that can be accomplished just as well tomorrow.”

“Mm,” he hums, pacing around you and further into your chambers, to your great annoyance. You turn, watching him as he saunters through the space, acting as if it’s his own, only to come to a stop beside your desk. 

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips just as he feigns surprise at seeing the scroll he’d brought with him unfurled over the wooden surface, “But, you have read the king’s terms, no? Surely discussing them would not take long.”

“Discussing them, no,” you acquiesce, gritting your teeth, “My thoughts of accepting them, on the other hand…”

You can tell he’s only half-listening as you speak, focused on reading over the notes you’d scrawled in the margins of the document – questions of various assurances and the like… aside from one particular line which you’d hastily crossed through. A shiver goes down your spine when his eye trails up from the parchment to once again meet yours, darkened with some new sense of resolve.

“You are aware that the crown has the ability to strip you and Lord Cregan of your titles, yes? Especially if I were to inform my council of your plot against me…”

Your heart quickens at his warning, thumping meanly in your chest while you try to process his words. “All this over a simple marriage offer?” You think as your brows pinch together in a scowl; you do not take kindly to such threats.

“Over my brother’s right to the throne…,” Aemond murmurs and it’s only then you realize you must’ve spoken aloud, not hearing your own words due to the turmoil in your head, the rush of blood in your ears, “Over my family’s safety, yes. I would be willing to dole out harsher reminders as well, if need be.” 

“You must understand, this is not a slight against you, nor your council,” fire rages within you as the winds outside pick up, howling throughout the castle, “I have no want to be bound to anyone –”

“Think of the station you’d have,” he cuts you off, determination seeming to well up within him the same way it does you; each of you is ready for a fight, “The power you could wield in King’s Landing, everything you could do to benefit –”

“You could not drag me from the North kicking and screaming, I have no desire to go –”

“My Lady, you are intelligent, ‘tis plain to see,” he murmurs lowly, indignation finally managing to bleed through his placid exterior while he paces about, circling you just as he did Prince Jacaerys, “Surely you realize that your talents will be wasted here, squandered to the cold, frozen waste –”

“Do you think insulting my home is the way to win me over, my Prince?”

“Mm,” his dismissive hum alights a spark within you and your hands curl to fists at your side, “No, though I suspect flattery would do no good either.”

His words are sharp, spoken with the sole purpose of cutting into you, yet all they draw is an angry huff. You can see his eye narrow in your periphery, can feel him studying you, no doubt trying to find a way to make you crack. 

A part of you hopes he’ll succeed. 

“So, you see, I’ve no other choice than to resort to threats,” he hums, long silken hair swaying over his shoulders as he finally comes to a stop before you, close enough that you’re forced to raise your chin to maintain eye contact. 

“Should you be fool enough to try, you will not succeed in taking the North, my Prince,” you say softly, a quiet calm blanketing your fury just as snow blankets the fields outside, “Even Aegon the Conqueror could not, surely you know that.” 

Something dangerous flashes in his eye at that and your eyes narrow with the knowledge that you’ve crossed some invisible boundary, gone a step too far. 

He stays quiet for a moment, just long enough for the eye of the storm within you to pass, for the maelstrom to be ignited once more. 

“Surely you’ve heard tale of the wrath the Conqueror brought upon Harrenhal, Lady Stark,” his voice is low when he finally speaks, though there is no softness to it; only a harshness, a finality, that would surely make anyone else grovel for forgiveness at his feet, “Reduced to a pile of ash and molten stone… even now, more than a century later, it stands as a ruin – a cursed place…”

Your jaw clenches tightly at his words, eyes narrowing as you stare into his own as if challenging him to say it, to finish his threat.

“It would be quite a shame if that same doom was brought to Winterf–”

Aemond lets out a grunt when his back thuds against the stone wall behind him, gasping and caught off guard by your sudden advance. 

“Have you no shame?” Your words are biting as you snap at him; fury pours off of you in waves, your entire being concentrated down into rows of gnashing teeth, “You come into my home, unbidden. You threaten to spill blood in my hall, you feel entitled to my time and my space and my thoughts and my hand, all unbidden.”

For the first time all evening, the prince seems to have no response, not even a condescending hum. He stands frozen on the spot, held against the wall by your forearm pinned across his chest. The air feels like it evaporates from the room, leaving the two of you in some sort of bubble where the only sound is Aemond’s harsh pants. You see his angular nose twitch and his lips press firmly together as a sneer forms on his pale face. 

There’s a cruel, almost savage, gleam in his eye that should scare you, that maybe actually would, were it not for the soft pink flush spilling across his cheeks and an undercurrent of something resembling shame in his gaze – the expression of a child being scolded by a parent, caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

The strangeness of it brings you to heel for a second, only for the anger within you to flare up once more when he starts to open his mouth, starts to push himself off of the cool stone at his back. 

“Don’t,” you huff, narrowing your eyes and pressing back against his chest. A bitter laugh bubbles up from your throat as you stare at him, surprised once more when he quickly gives in and lets you push him back, “I bet you’re quite used to getting your way, hm? You’re a prince of the realm, of course you are.”

With each passing second, your ire for him seems to be slowly replaced by a growing curiosity — Why isn’t he fighting back? What kind of game is he playing at? 

“Entitled prince,” your heart quickens when his breaths start coming more harshly and his chest heaves against beneath your arm, “You hold no power here.” 

Aemond’s nostrils flare and his lilac eye narrows, just as fiery and intimidating as before. Your lips part when his hands come to rest on your waist, far too delicately for the situation. 

“Might I remind you,” he mutters, a rumble to his voice that hadn’t been there before, “That the crown—“

“The crown, the crown, the crown,” you lean in, nearly on your tiptoes, just a hair’s breadth away from touching your nose to his. Without considering the movement, your free hand wraps itself around his pale neck, not squeezing but merely resting there, pressing against his Adam’s apple — a reminder for him to remain silent, “Why is it that you lean so heavily on something you do not even have, my Prince?” 

You can feel him swallow against the palm of your hand, once again not fighting back. Though, it’s only when you meet his half-lidded eye and see that heady, shameful spark hiding there does the truth finally hit you. 

“Gods, he likes this,” your eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization, such a mighty, fearsome prince and yet he’s all but melting under your touch. The feeling is rather intoxicating and you feel a rush of power flow through you, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“I don’t see a crown on your pretty head,” you continue leaning into the feeling, intending on leveraging his submission to whatever extent you can, “Doesn’t that bother you, Aemond? Hm? Being reduced to the second son when you could’ve been so much more…”

“V-Vhagar could—“

“Vhagar could do nothing,” your fist tightens around the column of his throat as you press yourself more tightly against him, the thin fabric of your evening robe the only thing separating you from the warm black leather of his tunic, “Not if I take my brother’s sword and go slit her great belly myself.” 

He balks at that, brows furrowing as he stares at you — half in fury, half in wonder. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, not interested in hearing another half-baked threat. 

“Does it bother you that I don’t find you the least bit intimidating?” You question, narrowing your eyes at him. 

A grin blooms on your lips when he just barely shakes his head, the movement so subtle and so quick that you hardly catch it — though it sends lightning down your spine all the same.

“No? It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Again, he shakes his head, more firmly this time; his throat bobs beneath your grip, “Do you like it? That you can’t scare me?” 

He nods — not good enough. 

“Say it,” you command, tightening your grip on his neck once more. 

“I… I like it…,” he answers after a long moment, his voice hardly a whisper.

“Good boy.” 

He whimpers, the small sound vibrates against your hand. A shock goes through you and before you can fully register what you’re doing, you release his chest and neck and haul him toward your bed — that barely there whine enough to ignite a fire in your belly. 

You can see the confusion written plainly on his face when you sit on the edge of your mattress and gaze up at him expectantly, you try not to focus on the little flip your heart does at the fact that he’d followed you so willingly, like a little puppy. 

“Kneel,” you command, nearly giddy when he actually does, actually sinks to his knees before you. You lean forward and quickly tug off his eyepatch, eager to see the sapphire once more, and again, you’re shocked when he doesn’t put up a fight. 

Tossing the small scrap of leather to the side, you stop for a moment and admire the glimmering gemstone, even admiring the long, thin scar that adorns his otherwise flawless face. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side all evening,” your fingers card through his hair while you speak, your voice low, hardly louder than the crackle of the logs in the fire, “Starting fights, coming to my chambers in the middle of the night for matters I said I would not be discussing, talking back… and I can think of much better uses for this mouth.”

Aemond’s breath hitches when you cup his jaw and skim a thumb over his bottom lip, grinning when he just barely follows your touch. With your free hand, you tug your robe open at the slit going up your leg, just enough to show him you’re bare beneath it.

“If… if I do this, you’ll back Aegon?” He rasps, staring up at you from his place on the floor as his hands come to rest gingerly on your thighs, “You’ll agree to his terms?”

“Of course…”

“… All of his terms?”

“All of them,” you echo breathily, sighing softly when he leans in and kisses the top of one knee, a smug grin on his lips despite the situation. 

If only he didn’t make this so easy. 

“Enough talking,” you grab at his pale hair and shamelessly pull him to where you need him, smirking at the little gasp that leaves his lips once he’s face to face with your center, “Show me what it is I’ve agreed to.”

For all his faults, Aemond doesn’t make you wait and quickly dives in — licking a solid line up the middle of your folds, groaning as he goes. His hands tighten around your thighs and he eagerly spreads them wider, shifting on the floor until he’s pressed closer to you. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasp, leaning back on an elbow, though you keep a grip on his hair and use it to drag him directly to your aching pearl, arching your back when he hungrily suckles at it. His eagerness makes the fire in your belly burn bright right away and you swallow thickly, battling against the dryness at the back of your throat. 

Aemond growls against you and dutifully licks over your bud, flicks his tongue against it again and again until your head spins. Your thighs tighten around his head but he’s quick to press against them once more and hold you open, fingers digging into your supple flesh. 

“Good boy,” you pant, relishing the way his eye rolls back. Biting at your bottom lip, you yank his hair once more — guiding him to your entrance. He catches on quickly and another almighty gasp is wrenched from your throat when he pushes his tongue inside you, making you shiver. 

“Seven Hells!” Your hips buck against his face of their own accord when his angular nose brushes against your pearl, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. Your walls clench down around his tongue, pulling twin whines from the both of you. 

Knowing you won’t be able to hang on for much longer, you press his face against your core and rock your hips more earnestly against his face; your eyes nearly go cross when he groans deeply against you, squeezing at your thighs hard enough to surely leave behind bruises. 

“T-That’s it, that’s it,” you chant, chest heaving. It feels as if lava flows through your veins each time he presses his tongue against you, the fire inside you burning brighter by the moment. 

Suddenly, he moves on his own accord and nips softly at your pearl before suckling at it once more. The sudden turn of events causes you to snap and finally slip over the edge, making fireworks explode behind your eyelids. 

“A-Aemond, Gods!” You cry, harshly tugging at his hair, nearly ripping it from its roots as pleasure beats against you in waves. You’re so lost within yourself that you hardly hear him growl against you, low and heady. 

You shove him away after a moment when his touches begin to border on overstimulation and lie panting on the bed, dropping to your back against the warm blankets and staring, half-lidded, at the ceiling. 

You can hear the shuffle of his clothes as he pushes himself up off the floor but you don’t bother sitting up, limp still from your peak. It’s not until he speaks that you finally look up. 

“I take it I’ve fully persuaded you, then?” He hums, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Leaning up on your elbows once more, you look him over — taking in the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest thrums under the dark leather of his tunic, the evidence of his arousal pressing tightly against the ties of his trousers. 

Gods, what a desperate thing — wanting so badly for validation.

“Well, I’ll still need to read over Rhaenyra’s terms��”

“But —“

“But nothing,” you snap, sitting up once more on the edge of the bed, “I must at least operate under the pretense of being fair, no? Cregan will know if I don’t come to collect the papers your nephew brought.” 

Aemond nods stiffly, lips set in a thin line as he looks you over. Your heart speeds up just slightly when his lilac eye pauses at your chest, darkening at the way your robe has loosened, showcasing your cleavage. 

“True,” he acquiesces, brushing a lock of hair from your shoulder, “It would be smartest for us to be careful now…” 

He leans down, intending to kiss your cheek, perhaps even your lips or neck, but you put a hand up to stop him — shaking your head with a small smirk and a raised brow. 

“That’ll be all.” 

His brows furrow at your words, eye searching your face, “I thought —“

“I need to rest,” you cut him off, nodding to the door, “Goodnight, my Prince. I hope sleep finally finds you.” 

“I…” he starts, staring at you for a second, absolutely crestfallen, before simply nodding. “Lady Stark,” he mumbles, finally turning and seeing himself out, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Poor thing,” you think with a sigh as soon as your door shuts behind him, “He has no business here.” 

You’re hit with a wave of deja vu as you take your place next to Cregan, each of you standing before the long table at the head of the Great Hall. Once again, the place is as silent as a crypt, the only sound being the steady crackle of the fireplace. 

You stare straight ahead, focusing intently on the opposite wall while your brother addresses the two princes — exchanging morning pleasantries and worried smiles. Throughout his small speech, you can practically feel Aemond’s gaze on you, like he’s determined to sear a hole straight through you. 

“I have read your terms carefully, both of them,” Cregan states, each of the scrolls laid out on the table behind you, “And I propose that House Stark honor will keep faith with its alliance to Lady Rhaenys, in memory of the oath we once swore to King Viserys.” 

“Very well,” Prince Jacaerys nods, giving your brother a small, polite smile and grateful nod. 

“And what say you, my Lady?” Aemond cuts in, determined to force your hand, for you to make good on your assurances from last night. 

The desperation in his eye almost makes you feel bad.

With a sigh, you finally look up at him for the first time all morning, immediately noting the dark circles beneath his eye. Breaking from his intense, nearly pleading gaze, you look toward Prince Jacaerys with a small smile.

“I’m afraid I must agree with my dear brother,” your voice is cold, emotionless as it rings throughout the stony room, “House Stark will not be breaking its oath today.” 

Aemond lets out a sharp, stuttering breath, as if he’d been punched in the gut and his shoulders sag in defeat. 

And you almost feel bad, only for a moment. 

Almost.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

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[tbyfandoms]

Heart to Heart | Clay Beresford x Reader

Pairing: clay beresford x f!doctor!reader

Word Count: 16.2k

Summary: after crossing paths and connecting with new york’s most well known businessman, you end up in a whirlwind situation that’ll change your life forever

Warnings: reader is a heart transplant recipient, descriptions of heart transplant procedures and the healing process, mentions of overdosing and death of a mother, mild swearing

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: clay beresford, my angel bb! I was literally so excited when I got this request. I’m so absolutely obsessed with the awake movie and I think hayden did such a good job as clay. I literally need all the content for my little nyc golden retriever lmao! I really like how this turned out and I hope ya’ll do too. thank you sm to the person who requested this! enjoy and lmk what you think <3

Sterile.

That’s the only word you can ever come up with to describe the feeling of walking into the hospital each day. The white tiles, the bright lights, the almost burning scent of alcohol; it’s all so much to take in but somehow it also gives you a sense of peace.

Every time you come in through those doors it’s like a fresh start. No matter what happened the day before, no matter the heartbreaks or victories, the moment you step inside it’s another chance at new opportunities. It’s one of the reasons you love working here so much, love doing what you do. There are a lot of uncertainties in your line of work, but there are some risks worth taking.

Rounding the corner you start going over what you need to do today. Residency has been a whirlwind of an experience and every day is different from the last, but over the past few months since you’ve been at this hospital, you’ve started to get somewhat of a routine down. At least when you start your day it’s kind of the same every time, giving you a moment of normalcy until the real fun begins.

Changing into your scrubs in the locker room, you nearly jump as one of your coworkers, Jill, comes up beside you.

“Hey!” She squeaks, a gleam in her eyes you know all too well. She’s definitely up to something.

“Jesus, stop doing that to me! You’re gonna kill me one of these days,” you grumble. Shutting your locker you sit on the bench to change into your comfortable work shoes. They’re not the prettiest but they do wonders for your back and feet during these long shifts you endure.

“Sorry! But you’ll never guess who I just saw walk in with Dr. Harper.”

“Who?” You inquire—Jill’s giddy smile and shifty eyes beginning to freak you out.

“Clay Beresford,” she whispers, moving closer to you on the bench to ensure no one else can hear. Not like anyone would considering the two of you are the only people in the locker room.

“Really?” The name isn’t at all unfamiliar. If you live in this city, you know who Clay Beresford is, or his name at the very least. The man owns half the city at this point, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he owned all of it by the time he hit 30. All inherited from his father and even from his own doing too. You’ve seen a bit about him here and there in the papers and on the news. It surprises you how young he is and yet he’s already accomplished so much. It’s inspiring to put it plainly, especially considering how much good he’s done for the underprivileged.

It doesn’t surprise you Jill’s seen Clay here. When you started working at this hospital the gossip was everywhere. You couldn’t chat with a coworker without Clay Beresford being brought up. Apparently he has a bad heart and suffered a massive heart attack not long before you started. It was clear to you then that he didn’t have much time left without a transplant, and that was a while ago. You’re surprised he hasn’t been able to receive one yet considering his status, but amongst the whispers you were able to piece together that his blood type is rare and thus the transplant waiting game began. You’re unfortunately more familiar with that game than you’d like to be—having had your own heart transplant just a few short years ago.

No pun intended but your heart aches for Clay. You know that fear and anxiety he must be facing isn’t easy. The wait for a transplant is brutal enough as it is, but dealing with that is only half the battle. The road to recovery is a long and painful one and you just hope he has the support he’ll need once he does have the surgery. You’re not sure why your mind wanders to thoughts like that when you think of Clay, maybe it’s the transplant sympathizer in you, but there’s also just a part of you that feels like the Beresford heir is so much more than the media and other people make him out to be.

It’s sad, really, when you think about it. In reality Clay’s just like any other person trying to keep on living and get healthy, yet he’s talked about around the hospital as if HIPPA doesn’t exist. Sure he has money and power—as much as a man in New York could have—but that doesn’t change the fact he’s just a 20-something year old guy fighting for his life. You just wish more people saw it that way and wished him well instead of questioning what’s gonna happen to his company if he doesn’t make it out alive.

“-and I mean ohmygod I only saw him for a split second but I swear he is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” So lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even realized Jill has been going off on a tangent about her encounter with Clay.

“Wait, so did you talk to him?” Your eyebrows knit together as you look over at your friend, suddenly needing her to go back several steps in her story.

“No, I told you when I saw him walking down the hall with Dr. Harper I said hello to Doctor and that was it. I couldn’t exactly blurt out Clay’s name like I knew him. If I had I mean hello, stalker much?” You try to bite back your smirk, wanting to tell her that’s exactly what this whole conversation paints her out to be, but you let it go. Jill is always one for the dramatics. “But I did look at him as I was passing by and he smiled at me and nodded and honestly after that I’d say I’m pretty content with life now.”

Giggling, you shake your head. “You’re somethin’ else you know that, Jill?”

“Awh, c’mon! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t just die to have a conversation with Clay Beresford,” Jill teases, poking you softly in the side to try and egg you on. You swat her hand away playfully and roll your eyes.

“It’s not like he’s royalty. Sure he’s attractive and rich but so are a lot of men, some not so favorable.”

“Okay but he might as well be! He’s about as close as you can get to royalty in New York! And that’s the point, he’s not part of those not so favorable men. He seems like a really great guy! I know you think so too, I’ve heard your thoughts on him before. It’s good to have guys like him having a hand in what goes on in this city. God knows we need the help.”

“You got all of that out of a smile and a nod?” This time it’s Jill’s turn to roll her eyes and the two of you laugh lightly as you get up from your spots on the bench.

“Whatever, I’m just saying! You’ll understand where I’m coming from when you meet him in person.”

Reaching for the door handle you look back at Jill. “I doubt that’ll ever happen. I can’t think of one instance where he and I will ever end up in the same room together.”

“It’s possible, I mean look at me! I was just walking down the hall ready to come get you and there he was in all his glory,” she smiles. “I’m honestly surprised you haven’t run into him yet considering all the times he’s here. I know he’s always with Harper when he is here and you’re not usually on his service, but still. I’m also surprised Harper hasn’t introduced the two of you considering your history. You could probably give Clay some tips, you know.”

Turning the thought over in your head you realize that’s not actually a bad observation or idea. “You know you’re actually right. I do have first hand experience with that stuff…but I mean so does Dr. Harper. Sure he’s never experienced a transplant personally but he’s performed them countless times. He probably knows better than me everything that goes along with getting a new heart. I’m just a resident, what could I really help Clay with?”

Jill hums, a sign that means she’s not giving up. “There’s nothing better than talking to someone who’s actually gone through what they have. Respectfully, Dr. Harper can tell Clay all he wants about the process but you’ve actually lived it. I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the worst thing if you happened across him and were able to at least ease his mind if nothing else. Transplants are scary and dangerous, especially heart ones, but you’re proof they actually work and that he has a fighting chance.”

Glancing at your coworker you can see it in her eyes she’s being sincere. Sure Jill likes to joke a lot and is more unserious than not half the time, but she does have her moments and you’ve certainly found yourself in one. It warms your heart that she actually thinks you could be of any help to fellow transplant recipients, even if this whole conversation only started because of the fact she’s attracted to a patient.

“Thanks, Jill. Look I promise if I happen to see Clay Beresford I’ll make sure to give him all my expert advice on dealing with a heart transplant.” Saying it out loud kind of sounds ridiculous to you, still not believing the idea you’d ever even have a chance to talk to the businessman. But it seems to be enough for the woman beside you because in an instant she’s excitedly clapping her hands.

“Goodie! Now, let’s get serious.” Grabbing onto your arm as the two of you continue walking, she leans her head closer to yours—reminding you of when you were both in the locker room. “Do you think Clay has a girlfriend?”

And she’s back.

*****

After parting ways with Jill, you find yourself wandering the halls. A patient had asked you for directions and you took it upon yourself to just lead them to where they needed to go, finding it much easier to do instead of trying to explain it. Sometimes you swear you still get lost around here too.

You’ve ended up a long ways away from where you need to be so you’re quickly trying to find the easiest way back. You don’t have much to do right now but you’d still rather be closer to your assigned doctor for the day in case something comes up. Anything can happen and you want to be accessible if help is needed. You’re eager to learn any and all new skills whenever you can, plus you have a feeling it helps when doctors are deciding who gets to join in on surgeries, which—if you’re being honest—is the goal.

Turning the corner, you cut through the hallway where some of the operating rooms are. You’ve found yourself here countless of times in the past few months, either helping out with low-risk surgeries or merely observing. It gives you a rush in the moment, makes your heart beat a little faster, and although you know super high stress and a rapid heartbeat isn’t the best for you and your condition—it makes you feel alive. The rush and the heavy thumps of your heart remind you of all you’ve been through, all you’ve survived, and it makes you even more grateful to still be here. Grateful to still be able to go out there and help people just like you’ve always wanted.

Smiling at the thought, you quicken your steps, eager to get back to work and see what the day has in store for you. Though before you get much further, you look off to the side and see a doctor rapidly approaching you. It’s Dr. Puttnam, one of the doctors that works closely with Dr. Harper.

You’ve worked on his service a few times before but each time you were itching to get away. There’s just something about him you find a little off. Part of it is probably the way he so easily cracks jokes in the operating room while cutting open a patient and how he seems so cocky with everything he does. It’s like there’s this missing piece of humanity in him, he gives you the impression he only cares about himself and you constantly find yourself wanting to roll your eyes in his presence. You and Jill have talked about him before and she feels the same way you do—if not stronger. The two of you always tease each other when one of you unfortunately gets put on his service, and as he approaches you you pray he’s not here to tell you today’s one of those instances. That’d really put a damper on your mood right now.

“Y/N! Glad to run into you. Hey, do me a favor and let Dr. Harper know to saddle up. Riordan’s cabbage is in the ICU bleedin’. He took off for the fuckin’ vineyard so we gotta get in there. Harper’s supposedly in one of the operating rooms so just find him and let him know I’ll be waiting, thanks!”

You don’t even get a chance to respond because in an instant he’s back to rushing down the hallway. See this is exactly why you don’t like him. Who talks like that about another patient? It’s like taking care of people is a chore for him…as if it’s not his job.

Ugh.

Trying to not let it get to you, you take a peek in the operating room closest to you. You can see Dr. Harper through the window and can tell he’s talking to someone but you can’t see who it is. You’re pretty sure he didn’t have any surgeries this morning so you’re confused on why he’s even inside. You shrug and push on the door, feeling the weight of it as it slides open.

When you walk in you catch the tail-end of Harper’s conversation. “You might not have much of it left, okay?”

Your eyes cut from the doctor to the figure that moves on the operating table. As you step further into the room you nearly trip over your feet as you stop dead in your tracks. Laying on the operating table, forearms holding up the top half of his body, and staring straight at you, is Clay Beresford himself.

Oh my god?

For some reason you figured Clay would’ve been gone by now. Sure you knew he was with Dr. Harper, but considering his job you just assumed it’d be quick. You never thought in a million years you’d walk in on him laying on an operating table fully clothed and apparently discussing something serious with Dr. Harper. It’s strange but you’re also intrigued.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N! How can I help you?” Harper’s voice breaks you out of your trance and you pray the heat you feel flush through your body isn’t visible as you finally look away from the blonde just a few feet in front of you.

“Dr. Harper, I-I’m sorry to interrupt! I didn’t know you were with a…” Words fail you as your eyes flit to Clay once again, taking note of the soft smile adorned on his face. Finally the word you’re looking for comes to mind and you shift your focus back onto Harper. “Patient.”

“It’s quite alright, we were just finishing up.” Harper turns to Clay and from the tone of his voice and look on his face, you get the feeling you actually were interrupting. “Was there something you needed, Y/N?”

Before you can dive too deep into the possibilities of what it is Dr. Harper was talking to Clay about, you remind yourself of the actual reason you walked in here. “Yes! Sorry! Dr. Puttnam stopped me in the hall and told me there’s a bit of a-uh emergency?” Going over Puttnam’s words in your head you try to piece together a more respectful version of them. “Dr. Riordan’s patient is apparently bleeding out and he’s away on vacation so Dr. Puttnam said it’s up to the both of you to treat the patient now. It seemed urgent and he said he wants you to meet up with him in the ICU right away.”

A flash of shock crosses Dr. Harper’s face as he takes in your words and you can see him start to revert to hyperdrive-as most doctors do with news like this. “Oh I see, alright, thank you for letting me know.”

Harper places a hand on Clay’s shoulder and you take this moment to do a once over of the businessman as his attention is being drawn elsewhere. He’s wearing a grey suit that is of course fitted to perfection and he’s got some leather shoes (that you’re sure are worth more than your rent) to match.

It’s funny, you would think that considering his well-kept appearance and cookie cutter styling, the Beresford heir would be oozing the feeling of wealth and prestige. But instead all you see as you look at him sat on that operating table, looking up into the serious eyes of his doctor, is apprehension and uncertainty wrapped up in expensive packaging.

Clay may have practically all the money in the world and an empire of a business backing him, but it’s clear in the unspoken message passing between him and Dr. Harper that there’s a lot more involved than what the public knows. It’s apparent to you, just like you thought earlier, that there’s more to Clay Beresford than just his money and pretty face, that he too has things—people—he’s scared of losing.

You can’t help the downward dip in the corner of your lips as you think about it all, as you think about how you were in his exact same position not that long ago.

“I have to go,” Harper says as he steps away from Clay, but suddenly he stops and you watch as his gaze flutters back and forth between you and the blonde. A thought seems to occur to him and you swear you can see a smile start to form on his face. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot you two have never met before. I don’t know why I didn’t think to introduce you sooner. Y/N, this is Clay, he’s a patient of mine that’s awaiting a heart transplant. Clay, this is Y/N, she’s a resident here and is actually a heart transplant recipient herself.”

Now it’s your turn to be shocked. Where is Jill and how in the hell did she speak this into existence?

Before you get the chance to actually process the fact you’re being personally introduced to Clay, you watch as the man of the hour sticks out his hand for you to shake. You take a step forward and grasp it in your own, giving his hand a light shake as he nods his head and smiles up at you from his seat on the table.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says.

“You as well, Clay.” A beat passes between the two of you just looking at each other and it’s in this instance you notice how blue Clay’s eyes are. They’re pale blue—like the sky—and you find yourself hoping that a cloud never passes through them.

God, get it together, Y/N.

Letting go of Clay’s hand, you take a step back and put some distance between you. The pictures of him on the news and in the paper so do not do him justice. You take a second to remind yourself Clay’s still a patient of this hospital and, yeah, you’re still an employee of it too. Oops?

“Remember what I said, Clay. No regrets. The clock’s ticking,” Harper says as he walks backwards towards the door. As he faces forward and grabs onto the handle, he stops and turns towards you both again. “You know, Y/N, while you’re here maybe you can give Clay a little advice and insight on the importance and weight of this surgery? Have a little…heart to heart, if you will.”

The doctor smiles at you both before he disappears through the door, leaving you and Clay alone in the operating room.

As the door softly closes, you swear you could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. For being a bustling hospital it sure is quiet out there…

“So, you’re a heart transplant recipient?” Clay breaks the silence first and you’re grateful for it. You’re not sure what you would’ve even opened a conversation like this with. What does Harper expect you to say? Hey, Clay! This surgery is super scary and you might die, but stay positive!

To be fair, it’s not like that’s a lie per say, but it’s incredibly blunt and you’re definitely not the type of person to just dish something out like that and move on.

“I am,” you start, finding it hard to fully look into the blonde’s eyes again. They’re so intense you’re not sure you’ll be able to be alone with him in this room, look into them, and not completely lose your mind. “It was a while back, nothing extremely recent, but yeah. It was…an experience.”

You don’t even know how to articulate the proper words to explain to Clay how monumental something like a heart transplant is. He’s not stupid, there’s no doubt he knows the risks, but having experienced it yourself and knowing first hand what’s it’s like on the other side of it all is hard to summarize.

“I bet it was,” Clay practically whispers. It’s in this moment you notice he’s lost some of that front he was obviously putting up for Dr. Harper. That joking edge in his tone is gone and is instead replaced by unknowingness. “Dr. Harper has tried to explain to me over and over how important and serious this surgery is, and I get it I really do, but there’s still a part of me that is completely lost on it all. I think if I believe it��s not that bad and just act like everything is fine that it will be. But I know that’s not how it works.

“I’ve tried to talk to Dr. Harper about it but it never comes out the way I want it to. I feel like it would kind of fall on deaf ears anyways. At the end of that surgery Dr. Harper will still be alive. I’m the only one in that operating room who has a chance at not making it back out of there and that terrifies the hell out of me.” Clay let’s out a breathy laugh, not because he finds anything actually funny, but because of the fact he can’t believe he actually said that out loud.

Since the moment he found out he needed this surgery, he’s never once vocalized the very real possibility of what can happen. He’s heard it spoken a dozen times to and around him, but never once has he heard it be spoken in his own voice. The weight on his shoulders seems to somehow get even heavier.

You know Clay is a busy man and that there isn’t a lot of time here to get through to him. But you feel your heart practically shatter in your chest at the blonde’s words, and it’s at this point you decide you’ll try your best, because for some reason the universe has given you this opportunity to be there for someone in your position—something you unfortunately didn’t have. You won’t stand to let Clay be in this alone. Family or not, the man clearly has no one around who’s gone through what he has and you refuse to let him deal with it on his own any longer.

“Clay,” you say, taking tentative steps towards him, not wanting to cross a boundary but also wanting to be close enough so he really hears what you’re about to say. “Dr. Harper isn’t wrong when he says how risky this surgery is. There is a very high chance that you will go to sleep on that table and never wake up.”

Clay’s eyes flick to yours and suddenly that jittery feeling you had looking into them earlier is gone. Now you only feel sincerity and determination as you look into them.

“I don’t want you to take that as me believing you won’t survive this, though. I mean look at me, I know first hand exactly what you’re going through, what you will go through, and I am still here. I am alive and healthy and proof that this can work for you too. I don’t know everything Dr. Harper has told you or asked of you, but I want you to know that you don’t have to let the fear control you. Yeah, this surgery is scary as hell. I didn’t think I was going to make it either, but I did, and I’ve lived every day since knowing this transplant is not a death sentence. It’s a chance at a new life.”

Something flickers in Clay’s eyes and you swear you can tell you’re getting through to him, in whatever way that may be.

“Yes, there are risks, and yes I agree with Dr. Harper in the sense that you need to grasp the fact this surgery and it’s repercussions are very real, but that’s not all that’s important. Of course there are things you have to think about and take care of before going into this surgery, but you also need to take care of yourself. It is your life, Clay, and if I took away anything from when I had my own transplant surgery, it’s that no one else can get you through this the way you can. Your decisions are your own and you have to look after what’s important to you first, no matter what or who that may be. But just because there’s a chance you won’t survive, that doesn’t mean it’ll happen. You deserve to still be able to think about and plan your future. Dr. Harper is a good surgeon and I believe with all my heart that you will continue to have one.”

There’s a finality in your tone that you’re not quite sure on where it came from. Part of you feels like you were just standing on a soap box and maybe you shouldn’t have gone off on that little rant as much as you did, but from the look on Clay’s face you can tell it means the world to him.

“Y/N…why is it only now I’ve just met you?” Clay grins at you and you can feel your face flush at both his comment and awestruck gaze. “Somehow I feel things would’ve made a lot more sense earlier on if I would’ve met you when this all started. Not one person has ever made me feel the way you just did about this surgery. No one’s been able to give their honest thoughts and feelings on it all like that. This is the first time in almost a year that I’ve ever felt seen and heard.”

There’s a small blush on Clay’s cheeks and you revel in the way you words have affected him. You didn’t really have a plan, you kinda just went for it, so you’re glad it came off the way you wanted it to. If there’s anything Clay—or any transplant patient really—deserves is the chance to find solace in someone who can relate to them. Someone to help ease their fears, their burdens.

“There’s a lot of doctors and statistics involved in this whole thing, but there’s not a lot of relatability. Going through this process can be very lonely and nerve wracking, and I know we quite literally just met today but I want you to know I’m here for you, Clay. If you need someone that has any clue about what it’ll feel like, what the process of recovery is like, I’m here to answer those questions. Not everyone is the same, everyone’s transplant journey is different. But just know you no longer have to feel alone in this.”

As you finish your spiel, you try to hide your surprise at your own words. You’ve met this man officially mere minutes ago and yet here you are essentially offering up a shoulder to cry on. Even through your shock you find it weird how natural it feels.

“Thank you, Y/N, seriously,” Clay starts, clearly not feeling uncomfortable at the offer at all as an honest and warm smile adorns his face as he looks at you. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

That heat makes its way back to your face as you stare at Clay, watching as his eyes look up at you through his lashes as he continues to sit on the operating table. In this position you have the tiniest bit of height advantage on him and you curse yourself for noticing how easy it would be to lean forward and wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into an embrace.

After a few more beats of comfortable silence, the two of you just enthralled in each other’s presence, a daring thought pops into your head. It probably crosses so many lines in regards to HIPPA and just doctor/patient morals in general, but you don’t want this to be the last you see of Clay. Who knows when he’ll be back the same time as you, or if you’ll even get the opportunity to stop and talk to him when you are at the hospital at the same time. You’ve seen a lot of articles recently about taking things into your own hands, making the first step, and apparently this is your moment to practice just that.

“Clay-“ You don’t even get the chance to attempt to be bold because the moment the blonde’s name leaves your lips, his phone is ringing and his gaze is ripped from your own as he reaches into his pocket in search of the source of the sound.

You watch as he looks down at the screen and in an instant every thought of absolutely anything happening between you two is immediately dismissed. It’s so obvious in the way Clay’s shoulders relax, the crease between his brow flattens, and how his whole face practically lights up that clearly whoever is on the other side of that phone call is someone the businessman is in love with.

“Hey, baby,” Clay coos softly in the phone, looking so at peace in an environment that is the complete opposite of it. And that confirms it.

Your shoulders slump forward and you’re unsure why you feel so deeply affected by all of this. You don’t know Clay at all, never would have under any other circumstance, so why does it hurt so much watching him talk sweetly to another woman?

Quickly, you stand up straighter and plaster a smile on your face as Clay’s eyes flick over to you, seeming to remember where exactly he is and who it is he was talking to before his phone rang.

Pulling the phone away slightly from his face, he smiles at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, I should really head out now. It was so nice to meet you.” Clay gets up from the operating table and you find yourself taking a step back as his full height comes into view and he consumes your space.

“Of course! It was nice to meet you too, Clay,” you reply, finding it hard to meet his eyes now. A twinge of embarrassment floods through you. How naïve of you to let yourself daydream about this becoming anything else than what it actually is; a doctor talking to a patient.

You watch his retreating back as he makes his way to the door and you find yourself firmly planted in the spot he’s leaving you in. You won’t lie, a part of you doesn’t want to follow in the risk you’ll go in the same direction and you’ll be forced to hear him whisper more sweet nothings to another woman.

As Clay opens the door, he pauses for a moment before turning back to you and nodding his head. “See you around.”

The door slowly closes behind him and you let out a breath of air you didn’t realize you were holding in.

“See you around, Clay.”

*****

“God, I cannot wait to go home, curl up in bed, and go to sleep. I’m exhausted,” Jill groans as she rubs the back of her neck with her hand, trying to ease some of the tension there.

“Tell me about it, I feel like it was so brutal today. I guess it makes sense considering it is Halloween, but still.” Rolling your head, you feel a couple cracks in your neck and you can’t help the hum of satisfaction that slips past your lips at the feeling.

“Oh shit, it is Halloween, isn’t it? I can’t believe I didn’t realize! Ugh all the good candy is probably sold out by now. You think some of the other doctors with families will bring in candy tomorrow they don’t want their kids to eat? I’d kill for a full size Hershey bar.”

You giggle over your friend’s comments and roll your eyes as you nudge her softly. “Jill, we can get those from the vending machines! Stop trying to mooch off of kids’ hard earned candy.”

“I know, but it tastes better when it’s from trick or treating! A-k-a when it’s free! Besides those kids don’t need it, cavities and all that.”

“Oh okay, I didn’t know you switched over to dentistry,” you laugh.

Jill rolls her eyes and smirks. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, are you even working tomorrow? You better or when I steal a kid’s candy bar, I’m not sharing with you.”

“You’ll have to indulge without me then because I’m off,” you shrug and then laugh as you watch Jill throw her head back with a groan.

“Ugh, so not fair, you lucky, lucky girl! I’m not off until the day after.”

“It’s okay, I’ll get my karma then because I’m working when you’ll be off, so it all balances out in the end.”

Jill tilts her head and hums satisfactorily at that realization. “Huh, you’re right. All is forgiven.”

The two of you laugh and you shake your head at your friend’s antics. You don’t know what you’d do without her.

As the two of you round the corner towards the front door, you both slow down as you take in the sight of a small group before you. It only takes you a second to recognize Clay and even less time to realize he’s with a girl. A very beautiful girl at that.

“Woah, who’s the babe with Clay? You think that’s…?” Jill tilts her head slightly towards you, wanting to get your insight.

You don’t even have to guess that that’s the woman the blonde was talking to earlier on the phone. As you get closer you realize Clay has his arm wrapped around her as well, and your stomach lurches a bit at the sight.

“Y/N!” Your eyes are immediately averted from Clay’s embrace around his—presumed—girlfriend, and instead become locked in with those of the man in question. Those pale blues look somehow even brighter, happier than they were this morning. From the looks on everyone else’s face as well, you can tell there’s a reason for it.

“Hey, Clay,” you smile, finding yourself and Jill now wrapped up in the small gathering. “What’s going on? What are you doing here so late? Is everything okay?”

“More than okay, Ms. Y/L/N! Clay here is getting his new heart tonight,” Dr. Harper chimes in. The smile that breaks out on your face is uncontrollable.

“What!? Clay, that’s amazing! Congratulations.” For a mere moment it feels like the two of you are the only ones standing there. Clay’s soft, grateful smile causes your cheeks to warm and a sense of adoration to flow through you.

The feeling swiftly leaves though as you pick up movement out of the corner of your eye. All too soon you’re brought back to the reality that you’re in a group of people, and the man you can’t stop fawning over is very much involved with whoever this woman is next to him.

Your eyes flit from Clay’s to the brunette woman’s and somehow Clay seems to pick up on it, lightly shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m so sorry, I haven’t introduced you two yet! Sam, this is Y/N, one of the doctors who works with Jack. Y/N, this is Sam; my wife.”

Wife.

The word rings out in your head and you have to fight the way it nearly knocks you off your feet. “H-Hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” You reach out your hand and Sam does the same, your eyes widening at the sight of her wedding ring as she grasps your hand in hers.

You quickly try to recover, not wanting to be too obvious with the way you’re feeling right now. Sam’s smile is big and infectious and you’re sure she doesn’t notice a thing.

Who would, knowing a man like the one next to her is her husband?

Lightly shaking your head, you let go of Sam’s hand and turn towards Jill, needing her now more than ever and also realizing she also deserves an introduction.

“And this is Jill! A friend of mine as well as a fellow doctor.” Jill wastes no time in taking Clay’s gaze off of you, moving in closer and sticking out her hand immediately.

“Hi! So great to officially meet you, Clay!” She says ecstatically before turning her head towards his wife and only slightly losing the excitement. “Sam.”

Clay grasps her hand in his and you can just tell by the look on her face that she’s eating this up. You have to hold yourself back from laughing. “I remember you! I saw you this morning while I was with Dr. Harper, right?”

You swear you see Jill die and then come back to life all in a split second. “Y-Yes, that was me!”

She miraculously lets go of Clay’s hand and you hear her let out a stunned huff as the takes a step back towards you. Not a second later you feel Jill poke you lightly in the side and you know immediately she’s never going to live this moment down.

You cover up the chuckle that escapes you by clearing your throat. As you regain yourself, you watch as Sam looks up at Clay and they seem to share a private moment, even while standing in the middle of a hospital. It’s evident the love they have for each other, the trust and admiration. It’s palpable and makes your heart squeeze, both in envy and despair.

You’d give anything to have a love like that. A man like that. Specifically that man in front of you, if you’re being completely honest.

“You girls heading home for the night?” A voice cuts into your stream of thought and you’re grateful for the opportunity to turn away from Clay and Sam.

It’s Dr. Puttnam, but you’re honestly not even mad about having to talk to him right now. You might even go as far as to say you’re thankful for him…maybe.

“Yeah, our shifts just ended so we’re on our way out,” you reply.

“Really? That’s too bad, I was hoping maybe you’d be here for the surgery. I figured since you work with Jack and all that you’d be in the operating room,” Clay says, drawing your attention right back to him.

“Oh-!” Clay’s words catch you off guard but also leave you feeling flattered. To think he wanted—no, wants—you in the operating room with him, it leaves you practically speechless. “Uh-no, I’m not on your case specifically, but I wouldn’t mind stepping in, if Dr. Harper is-“

“No!” You’re cut off by Harper himself and with his sudden exclamation, your excitement dwindles. An opportunity to be there for Clay in a way you didn’t think was possible would’ve been everything. Even besides that, to step in on a high profile heart transplant surgery this early in your career could’ve opened so many doors for you. You’re confused on the sudden shut down of the idea and by the look on Clay’s face, you’re not the only one. Harper clears his throat and gives a strained smile. “I mean, unfortunately that wouldn’t be possible. Although Y/N is more than capable of taking part in the surgery, due to the severity of this case I must insist we stick with only the original people assigned to this operation. We wouldn’t want to risk anything or have more people in the room than necessary.”

A valid reason, but still a disappointing one nonetheless. You just nod your head understandingly, your lips coming together in a tight line as you try to not let your upset emotions shine through.

“You could stick around in the waiting room with me? If you want to that is, I know you’re just getting off a shift. Clay told me earlier about the conversation he had with you and well, I just know it’d mean a lot to him to know you were around—at least in some capacity—for his surgery.” Your eyes snap to Sam and her offer takes you by surprise.

Damn, she’s nice, too? It’s gonna be really hard to dislike this woman.

You shift your gaze to the blonde before you and he nods his head lightly, encouraging the idea. Your decision is a no brainer. “I’d love to. Anything to help support Clay.”

“Great!” Puttnam cuts in with a clap of his hands. “The more, the merrier! I’m sure your mother will appreciate the company, Clay.”

The doctor looks on with a smile but it immediately drops as he takes in Clay’s concerned expression.

“What? Wait, she’s here?” Clay questions.

Clay and Harper share a look and you try to not come off as nosy as you attempt to read their expressions. It’s clear Dr. Harper and Clay have some sort of understanding with each other. It doesn’t seem odd considering their friendship, but it’s clear there’s some hesitation between them when it comes to Mrs. Beresford, at least from what you can tell.

“What? She’s on the call sheet,” Dr. Puttnam says in defense.

Clay sighs before turning to Sam. “I’m going to go deal with this and then I’ll meet back up with you. I think it’d be best if I just went with Jack to handle my mother.” Sam nods and you watch as the blonde leans in and plants a soft kiss on her forehead before turning back to the group.

You try to make yourself appear as if you didn’t just witness their tender moment by stepping a bit closer to Penny, trying to locate what room they’re gonna have Clay in.

“If you want,” you start, wanting to offer at least some sort of help. “I can take Sam up to the room you’ll be in. She can wait there until you’re ready to get changed for surgery.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Clay smiles. “That’d be perfect.”

Trying to hide the blush you just know is beginning to coat your cheeks, you smile and nod your head before stepping away towards Jill. The look on her face makes her appear as if she’s just won the lottery and honestly just knowing how Jill is, her talking to Clay is her version of winning the lottery.

You roll your eyes affectionately and smirk as you physically feel how jittery with excitement she is as you pull her closer to you. “Well, I guess this is happening?”

“Holy shit! Yeah this is happening! Look at you getting all cosy with the Beresford family! This morning you didn’t even think you’d ever be in the same room as Clay let alone getting to talk to him and now be his personal on call girl.” There’s a suggestive look on your friend’s face and you feel yourself wanting to curl into a ball over the fact she said that when everyone else is barely five feet away.

“Jill!” You squeak. She begins to laugh and you hate the fact you feel yourself fighting back a chuckle as well. “I can’t believe you.”

“No, I can’t believe you. I’m heading home but go and get cosy with the apparent new Mrs. B.” Jill lowers her voice and leans her head so close to you her forehead nearly knocks into the side of yours. “Maybe you’ll find out she’s really some horrible person and you can swoop in and steal the blonde god that is Clay Beresford away from her.”

“Jill! Never gonna happen!” You playfully push your friend away and watch as she laughs brightly over the whole thing. You just stand there and shake your head, barely noticing the intrigued look on Clay’s face a few feet away from you.

As your friend recollects herself, you let her absurd words float through your mind. You sneak a glance over at the woman in question and find it hard to believe she could have any trace of evil inside of her. Her smile and eyes are too kind, and the literal glow around her as she talks with her husband is unmistakable. It’s clear she makes Clay happy and you’re sure a man as good as Clay Beresford would never fall for someone cruel.

“You never know,” Jill shrugs. She yawns and then continues. “I’m gone, but call me if anything happens! Good or bad, I want the details.”

“Promise! Have a good night, I’ll see you later.” Jill waves in return and as she walks past the small group she wishes Clay ‘good luck’, which he instantly thanks her for.

Even with her back turned you can tell the woman has a smile on her face. You don’t even wanna know the thoughts running through her head right now. The idea makes you chuckle.

Rejoining the group you take in the fact it’s dwindled since you stepped away. All that remains is Clay, Sam, and Dr. Harper.

“Y/N, perfect timing! Dr. Puttnam has gone with Penny to get the operating room ready for Clay. Why don’t you go on ahead with Sam while Clay and I speak with his mother. We hope the conversation won’t be long,” Dr. Harper says before glancing at Clay. “But either way we will meet up with you both and get started right away.”

“Sounds good to me,” you say before turning towards Clay and Sam. “Sam, right this way.”

The brunette smiles at you warmly and you mentally curse yourself for even jokingly thinking about the idea of stealing her new husband from her.

After all, she is just evidently a girl in love trying to live a long, happy life with her husband.

*****

To say the atmosphere has turned a little...chilly would be an understatement. After bringing Sam back to the waiting room, it wasn't long before Clay's mother joined you two. She greeted you kindly, asked a few questions, and thanked you for staying to support her son. But the minute Sam tried to insert herself into the conversation, tried to find some connection with Clay's mom, Lilith immediately shut her down. Lilith wasn't very receptive to anything Sam had to say, which made having any conversation with the both of them basically impossible, to put it lightly.

So now you find yourself practically trapped between these two women who clearly have some sort of history, anxiously watching the time tick by on the clock you've had your eyes glued to for some time now. Lilith's occupied herself with some playing cards she had in her purse and Sam twiddles aimlessly with her thumbs, no doubt feeling anxious not only about Clay but also due to the tension between herself and his mother.

"Miss, uh..." The deep baritone of the nurse's voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you immediately hone in on the chance he might be bringing news of Clay. "Ramos?"

Your shoulders slump down in rejection, feeling no closer to getting any answers than you did before the nurse walked in. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he goes and sits down in one of the waiting room chairs close to Sam. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you wonder what it is he could want from her.

"Hi, how you doin'?" He asks Sam and you can tell she's having non of it as she replies with a cool 'hey'. "Can I help you with something?"

Wow, he's persistent, you think.

You go to roll your eyes, picking up on the fact that clearly this guy is trying to hit on Sam. Which, if you think about it, is a little sick considering where you are currently. Obviously that doesn't deter some people.

"Haven't I seen you around?" You lift your head up and look over at the pair, finding it odd the nurse would even say that. You assume if he has seen her around, she'd be with Clay and this guy would know she's taken. You mentally brush it off, this is probably just part of his game to get Sam's number.

The need to maybe step in on Sam's behalf is abruptly pushed to the side as you see Sam hold up her hand, proudly showing off her engagement and wedding ring.

You can't help the tiny smirk that graces your lips as you watch the nurse sigh and slouch down in defeat. Sam shut that down real quick. The nurse mumbles an apology before rushing off back to his job.

"You have two rings on your finger." Your smirk disappears as you hear Lilith speak up from beside you. It's the first time she's spoken to Sam directly since you got to the waiting room. Something tells you this is not gonna be good.

"What was that?" Sam questions barely above a whisper. She's probably just as shocked as you this interaction is happening.

"Why are you wearing two rings, Sam?" The way Lilith questions it, you know she already knows the answer and she is not happy about it.

Holy shit, you think. She had no idea her own son got married.

Things just got a whole lot more interesting.

Sam stays silent and it doesn't take long for Lilith to question, "When?"

"Just before he got the call," Sam shrugs, looking timid. Clay's mom sighs and quickly looks away from her, finding the playing cards she's been shuffling way more interesting than whatever it is her apparent daughter-in-law has to say.

"Lilith," Sam pleads, but it's no use as Lilith refuses to look up.

Yikes. Maybe I should've sat on the other side, you think. You feel at any moment those playing cards could go flying and you really don't feel like being in the middle of that cat fight.

Clearing your throat in the least awkward way as possible, you get up and head for the vending machine a few feet in front of you. Maybe a little refreshment will do you some good. It is Halloween after all, you deserve a sweet treat.

As you pick which of the drinks it is you want, you remember the tidbit Sam tried to give Clay's mom earlier when she first walked into the waiting room. You hold down a bit longer on the button and feel satisfied as you watch your treat get released to you.

Bending down to grab your drink, you startle a little as a crash sounds from behind you. You turn your head and watch as Sam hurries to the floor, a bunch of orange pill bottles scattered around her. She must've dropped her purse.

"Oh, shit!" She exclaims, trying to catch some of the bottles before they roll away. You go to help her pick them up, but you stop as she begins to speak, clearly to Lilith. "Levatol, Enalapril, Digoxin. He likes me to carry them around. If I left it up to him he'd be popping 'em like M&Ms. He could OD on these things, you know?"

Sam finishes gathering all the bottles and goes back to the chair she was sitting in. "Can't say I'll miss them. A lot of cute purses I haven't been able to use over the last year."

"I didn't know you did that," Lilith says softly, looking down at the ground. It's obvious she's taking in the fact Sam cares deeply for Clay. Why else would she cart around all his medicines like that? You don't do that for someone you're not serious about. "That you carried his meds around."

It feels as if there's about to be some big turning point for the two women right now, so you stay hovering by the vending machine, not wanting to get in the way of whatever moment they're about to have. You only hope it turns out well and doesn't become a screaming match.

"I tried not to like him. I honestly did," Sam starts. "Lilith, I know how much he means to you."

"What do you want from me, Sam?" Lilith asks defensively. You barely know the woman and yet you can tell all of this is incredibly hard for her to fathom. Her son got married right under her nose and now he's in a life threatening surgery that she has no idea if he'll survive. You can't even imagine where her head must be at right now.

"I want you to tell him that he's as good as his father. I want you to tell him that it's okay to love me, and I want you to tell me that it's okay to love him back. He's already lost one parent, he can't lose another. He needs you. I'm not a bad person. I mean if you could just give us your blessing—"

There's a rawness and urgency in Sam's tone. At this point she has nothing left to lose. It's clear she's hanging on to every second Lilith is giving her, using every bit of that time to try and convince this powerful woman that she's deserving of her son. A part of you aches for her. To have a love you're willing to fight for is a rare thing, and you think anyone who's willing to sacrifice everything for the one they love deserves happiness.

"Okay, just stop talking." Lilith holds up her hand and that immediately causes Sam to halt her efforts. You prepare for the worst, but what Clay's mom does next shocks you. "Just make sure he takes his meds and...stop talking."

"What?" Sam asks, her eyes going slightly wide at Lilith's...acceptance?

"He has horrible allergies. Did you know that? Especially in the spring. Grass and flowers." You watch as Sam wastes no time in wrapping her arms around Lilith, bringing her in for a long awaited hug. The sight makes you smile. "Don't think this means I'm gonna be visiting every week."

Sam holds on a little longer and you can see Lilith start to stiffen a bit at the contact. She's not fully there yet, but you can tell this family is going to be okay. You may not know the whole story, but it's clear there's a lot of love involved. "Okay. Okay, let go. All right." Lilith chuckles a little and the two of them break apart, settling back into each of their respective seats.

You take this as your sign that it's all clear to take your seat again. You walk up and catch Sam's eye, you give her a warm smile and she gives you one in return. That glow she had around Clay earlier is back and you can tell this interaction she had with Lilith has lifted her spirits. That little envious feeling you had earlier too comes back, but you push it aside. Now is not the time.

As you sit down in between Sam and Lilith again, you open your drink and take a long sip. The cool liquid runs down your throat and you relish in the refreshing feeling. It feels like you've all been here for ages. You're starting to pick up on the feeling your friends and family must've had when you had your own heart transplant surgery. This waiting game is definitely not easy, and you'd give anything to get some answers.

Clay's wife must feel the same because not a second later she leans towards you and Lilith. "You know what? I'm gonna try and find out what's going on."

You both give Sam nods of encouragement, seeing it as the best bet. You thought about maybe trying to use your status as an employee as leverage to try and get some information, but the fact you're off the clock mixed with the fact you're not part of Clay's family had you second guessing doing that. Thankfully Sam's taking one for the team. "Sit tight, you two. I'll be right back."

The brunette walks off towards two doctors who have congregated in the hallway and you strain your ears to try and hear what they have to say, it's useless though, everyone talking in hushed tones.

There's a doctor in blue scrubs off to the right of Sam and you watch as he makes his way towards her. You've personally never seen him around before, but maybe he's new or he's been called in to help on a surgery. Whatever the case may be, you just hope he has some answers about Clay and his condition.

"You're not a doctor at this hospital!" You hear Sam bite out, and the comment leaves you confused. "I mean, you don't work here, do you?" She finishes in hushed tones, but it's just loud enough for you to hear, and by the looks of it so did Lilith. The two of you share a puzzling look, not understanding why Sam would say something like that. You chalk it up to the fact maybe Sam just hasn't seen this specific doctor before. You're sure she's decently familiar with Clay's team, so of course she'd have some questions if someone completely new is working on his surgery.

You give Lilith an assuring smile, trying to ease any worries she may have. She gives you one too, but you can tell it's not genuine. She goes back to holding her scarf close to her chest, no doubt what she's using to ground herself, and you mentally sigh. As with any patient's family, you want to give Lilith some sort of comfort to hold onto. A positive update. Good news on Clay's recovery. Anything at all. But alas, you're not able to offer anything and that alone breaks your heart.

Sam walks away from the doctor and you watch as she retreats down a hallway. You're not sure where she plans on going or how she plans on getting some answers, but maybe she knows something you don't. Clay is a high profile patient, to be fair. She could know a way to get access that you haven't heard of yet. Whatever it is Sam is doing, you just hope she's quick. You're not sure how much longer Lilith will be able to hold out without any information.

*****

It seems like hours before Sam makes her way back to the waiting room. In reality it was probably only ten to fifteen minutes, but every minute feels like an hour when it comes to something like this.

As the newest Mrs. Beresford walks towards you and Lilith, you watch as Clay's mother immediately springs to her feet.

"Is he okay? Is everything okay?"

"They wouldn't say," Sam offers. All that time gone and she has nothing to report? There's a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that says none of this is right, things aren't adding up, but you let it go the minute you catch a glimpse of Lilith's face; a mix of both relief at no bad news, but also nerves from no good news either.

"You were gone so long. I started—" Lilith rolls her head back, her shoulders slumping.

"I know, I know. I'm scared too," Sam sympathizes.

The brunette rubs the arms of the older woman before leading her back to her chair. She smiles and nods at you, and you try your best not to make anything of her shifty gaze. It feels almost as if she doesn't want you too close, seeing past anything she's giving Lilith.

It must be paranoia, nothing solid has happened to make it seem like something is going on. Sam is a nice girl, she probably can just tell you have the hots for her husband, and as the clock ticks closer and closer to his surgery finishing, you're sure she's just becoming a little uncomfortable sharing such a personal time with you.

You technically are just a random doctor she met today who had a heartfelt conversation with her significant other and is now sitting with her and her mother-in-law during his life altering surgery. When you put it into perspective, the untrustworthy atmosphere seems to make a bit more sense.

Shaking it off, you readjust yourself in your chair. With no news at all, who knows how much longer it's going to be. Might as well get comfortable.

*****

"Something's wrong." Lilith's voice breaks you out of the trance you've found yourself in. For who knows how long now you've been trying to ground yourself. You're not sure why you're feeling so affected. Maybe it's because you do have a soft spot for Clay. Maybe it's the realization of how scary it is to care for someone going through a heart transplant. Maybe it's a coping mechanism to try and tune out the fact the three of you haven't spoken since Sam came back, anxiety striking you all silent. "I can feel that something's wrong."

"What Is it?" You ask Lilith, noticing her stricken expression the moment you look towards her.

"I can't just sit here like this. They should have told us something by now."

Sam straightens in her seat beside you, no doubt gearing up to try and calm Clay's mom. "Listen to me."

"No, you don't understand. He's not just my son. I was a kid when I had him."

"He's gonna be fine," Sam assures, shifting her gaze between Lilith and you, nodding her head. Your nervousness is probably written all over your face.

"We've grown up together. It's me and him," Lilith continues.

Sam has a contemplative look on her face, and you find yourself having deja vu. You take this as your opportunity to offer Lilith some comfort and advice, much like you did with Clay earlier today. Although, that seems so long ago now.

"He's not gonna die. Not now, not today," you say as you turn your body towards her. Confidence—or something—must overtake you because you find yourself reaching for her hand, feeling the slight shake in them. A mother's worries.

"How can you be so sure?" She whispers, not pulling away from your light grip.

With all the sincerity you can muster you whisper to her, "Because he's got too much to live for."

You can see the shimmer of tears brimming Lilith's eyes as she takes in your words. In an instant, you feel her squeeze your hand, no doubt trying to thank you for your words without having to actually say so, her voice unreliable at this point with the amount of emotion lodged in her throat.

You simply nod your head, letting her know you understand completely. What you said isn't bullshit, it's genuinely how you feel. It's clear as day that Clay is surrounded by two women who love him very much. There's no doubt in your mind that he laid down on that operating table today with every intention of waking up and going back to them.

The thought squeezes your own heart that you fought so hard for. To love is to be loved, and you're happy that Clay has a good support system around him to guide him through what is no doubt going to be hell for a little while. You remember your own restless days and recovery process. Lilith and Sam may not know exactly what Clay is gonna go through, but you're sure they'll do all they can to help him.

*****

You're the first to notice Dr. Harper walking towards you along with the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You lightly tap both Lilith and Sam with each of your hands to grab their attention. This is it.

"So?" Lilith questions after getting to her feet. Harper immediately shakes his head and your stomach drops.

"He rejected the heart." Four words. Four words is all it takes to completely throw you off balance. "We did everything we could, but the organ failed, and I am so sorry."

No, there's no way.

You feel Sam fall to her seat beside you and you wonder how it must feel for her. She married the love of her life not even a day ago and in just a few hours she lost him. You can't imagine a worse heartbreak.

"The organ failed?" Lilith questions, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Yes, it wouldn't respond to the procedure. But in cases like this, it's not uncommon for—"

"Don't you mean you failed?" Lilith cuts him off, and you can tell at any minute she might lose it. You can't blame her, you'd do the same in her position. You're positive Dr. Harper did all he can to save Clay, but this was a risk you were all well aware of. You just never thought it'd actually happen.

"No, we...we did everything that we could. It's just an imperfect procedure." Harper shakes his head and you can tell by the look on his face that this has broken him just as much as the rest of you. You don't know him or Clay that well, but it's clear they had a genuine friendship. He will never recover from this.

"Say it," Lilith bites out.

"Say what?"

"I wanna hear you say it. I wanna hear you say you failed my son." Dr. Harper stands there in shock as Lilith walks away from him and sits on the opposite side of the aisle of chairs. "It shouldn't have been you. It should never have been you. I fucking knew it."

"I'm sorry, Sam." Harper whispers before slightly turning and barely meeting your eyes. "Y/N."

He leaves the room and all that's left is you, Sam, Lilith, and the doctor Sam was talking to earlier. You find yourselves in utter silence. No other sounds can be heard besides the distant noises of other lives being saved and others being unfortunately lost. You think about how many more families will be devastated tonight just like the Beresfords. The thought pains you.

"I'm afraid we're gonna need your permission to take him off bypass." The doctor's words cause you to glance up at him. He stands tentatively at Mrs. Beresford's side.

"What?" She asks, looking over at him with tears streaming down her face.

"We'll need your permission," He says again, taking a seat next to her. "I'm so sorry to have to ask."

"I don't understand," Lilith shakes her head. "He's alive."

"Yes, but his blood's being pumped by a machine. He has no heart."

You squeeze your eyes shut, hating the image that's planted itself in your mind. You've seen countless people be put on bypass, it's your job, but it makes you feel sick to think about Clay being in that position with no way out. His chest open on that table with no heart inside to make him better again. You hate it. He deserved better.

"Then get him another heart," Clay's mother demands, not understanding the full severity of the situation. There is no other heart. You've heard enough about Clay and his case to know this one was a miracle as it is. To get another heart on such short notice, whilst also not having Clay on bypass for too long a time, is impossible.

"You don't understand. His blood type's too rare. We don't have one. I'm sorry. It's over." The doctor explains softly. Lilith merely thanks him before standing up and making her way to the corner of the waiting room, scarf still clutched in her hands.

"I'll be in the hallway," the doctor says before walking away form you all.

"Lilith," Sam says as she gets up from her seat.

"Could you leave me alone for a minute?" Lilith stops her in her tracks, not wanting Sam's comfort right now.

"Okay," she complies before walking away, going who knows where.

For a moment it's just you and Clay's mom. Nothing is said between the two of you, but just by looking at her you can tell she's struggling to keep it together.

You stand, taking a small step closer to the woman before softy calling out her name. "Lilith."

Suddenly, her eyes narrow slightly, a look of determination overtaking her grief-stricken features. "I'm going to the cafeteria. I need a moment alone."

She doesn't even await your answer as she swiftly makes her way around the chairs and towards the hallway, but not before snatching Sam's purse out of one of the chairs. You don't even question it at this point, you'd do just about anything else before standing in the way of a grieving mother.

*****

Time passes, and that nagging feeling you had earlier that something is severely wrong comes crawling back. Lilith still isn't back from the cafeteria yet, and you haven't seen Sam since Lilith asked her to leave.

You do the only thing that feels right. You go after Lilith. She's Clay's mother. If something is going on, she'd be the only one you could trust to tell you the truth. You need to talk to her, see if she feels the same way. You don't understand how this all could've gone south so fast.

Quickly making your way to the cafeteria, you looking around at all the tables and chairs, trying to find Lilith as quickly as possible. When you do finally spot her, what you see has your breath catching in your throat.

"Lilith!" You cry, rushing over to her secluded table. When you reach her, she's just finished shoving multiple pills in her mouth. You recognize the bottles as the same ones that fell out of Sam's purse earlier. Lilith has taken Clay's medication. She's trying to OD. "What have you done!? I need to get help."

Before you're able to rush off and call someone over to help you, Lilith has her hand wrapped around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. "No! Please, don't."

"Why are you doing this? What's going on? I came to find you because I think something's wrong with what happened to Clay but-but-" You feel tears start to brim your eyes. Even though you hardly know the woman before you, you can't imagine her taking her own life. The pain she must be feeling is insurmountable, but she can't do this. She can't.

"Let me explain, please. I don't have much time." Lilith urges you to sit down and you do so immediately. The quicker she gets out whatever she needs to say, the quicker you can go for help and save her life. There's no way you're losing both Beresfords tonight.

"What is it?" You urge, leaning towards her in your seat, the anticipation and stress eating you up.

"I had a feeling something was going on, I knew it from the beginning, but I kept telling myself I was just paranoid. My suspicions were confirmed though when I found this." Lilith pauses to reach into Sam's purse, pulling out a small stack of envelopes and handing them to you.

"What is this?" You look down at the letters Lilith has given you and your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you notice Sam's name on them. Except, on each letter, she has one of two different last names. On some of her letters her name is Samantha Lockwood, but on others, specifically one from Varick University (a nursing school), it says her name is Samantha Tunnell. You feel like you're gonna throw up, quickly catching on to where this might be going.

"She's not who she says she is. It only took me a second to put it together after that. She's been to this hospital before. Think about it; the vending machine she somehow knew how to work? The nurse asking if he'd seen her before? Her saying one of Clay's doctors didn't work at this hospital? How would she know any of that stuff? I don't know the exact specifics, but they're all in on it, all of them! They tried to kill my son, they are killing him unless I do something about it."

"Lilith, I'm sorry there's nothing we can do. There's no other heart for Clay. His blood type—"

"Is the same as mine."

Lilith's sentence sends your mind reeling. Suddenly, the picture becomes clear.

She's going to give him her heart.

"Lilith, if what you're saying is true—"

"It is, and I need you to let me do it. I've already called Dr. Neyer, he's on his way to perform the transplant, I don't trust anyone else. It's happening and it's happening fast so please, listen to me. I need you to do me a favor, Y/N."

You're stunned silent. There are no words to describe what's happening right now. It was just supposed to be a heart transplant. The anticipation of waiting for Clay to make it out on the other side was supposed to be the most nerve-racking event of the day, but suddenly his murder plot is.

Trusted medical staff. His best friend. His wife. All in on it. Your stomach churns and your heart races, but as you stare at Lilith, you realize just how serious she is. How dead set she is on changing the story these horrible people have written.

Gone is the poised woman who was married to a business tycoon. What remains is merely a mother doing everything she can to save her only child. You'd find it admirable if you weren't already feeling so frightened and worried about it all.

What she's set in motion cannot be undone, and as she stares at you eagerly, hoping you'll agree, you can't help but to take a leap of faith and do just that. "What can I do to help you?"

"Hold onto those letters like your life depends on it. Give them to the police directly the minute they get here. She cannot and will not get away with this. None of them will. But most importantly, what I need you to do is look after my son."

Lilith reaches out and grasps your hands in hers, much like you did earlier when you were assuring her Clay would not die today. Unlike earlier, though, her hands are no longer trembling. She is the most stoic you've seen her all day, and her determination is slowly but surely rubbing off on you.

"Lilith, I—" You can't find the right words to reply to her with. Obviously turning in evidence to the police is a no brainer, but looking after Clay? A man you met not even 24 hours ago. Your heart knows it's right, but your head is trying to reason otherwise.

"It's okay, I know it's a big ask, but please Y/N. Clay will have no one else on his side after tonight. I know you just met me, just met him, but for some reason I trust you wholly. I can tell your heart is pure. You stayed by Clay's side just for the mere fact you wanted to be there for him. You know personally what he's gonna go through after he wakes up from that surgery. I have no one else to turn to, no one else to ask. I know it's not fair of me, but I need you. He needs you."

Your heart swells. Emotions run wild through your mind, only one thought clear amongst the chaos. You have to do this, you have to do what she's asking. You want to. God knows no one else will get it all like you do. No one else will understand Clay and be there for him to answer any questions he may have. You truly will be all he's got.

With tears slipping down your cheeks, you nod your head. "Yes, absolutely. I'll do it, Lilith. I promise I won't let you down, I won't let Clay down."

"Good," she smiles, her eyes starting to droop closed. No doubt the concoction of pills she downed working their way through her bloodstream. Any minute now her body will shut down. Her heart will stop beating. She'll never wake up again. "Now hurry. Go find Neyers. He should be here any minute if he's not already. Bring him here and make sure he gets started right away. Clay doesn't have much time."

Noting your head, you stand up from the table, removing one of your hands from Lilith's grasp to wipe away your endless tears. Before you can take back your other hand, Clay's mother squeezes it tightly, causing you to look directly at her.

"Thank you," she whispers, her body slumping back in her chair, her head beginning to lean on the wall to her right. "Clay deserves someone like you."

You smile weakly at the woman, your heart squeezing for more reasons than one. "Goodbye, Lilith."

The older woman lets go of your hand and uses it to prop her head up. To anyone walking by she just looks like a tired loved one, looking to pass the time in the hospital cafeteria. But you know what's really going on. You watch as her breathing slows, her chest rising and falling less and less as the seconds tick by. It'll be any second now, but you can't bear to witness her final moment. Instead, you do as she asked and haul ass to the hospital entrance, looking for the man who's going to save the life of the Beresford heir.

*****

Knowing Clay was going under the knife a second time was no easier than the first time. Dr. Neyer is an incredibly capable doctor, but considering the events of today, you could say you're still a bit uneasy.

There was no way you were going back to that waiting room from earlier, you'd rather walk around aimlessly for hours instead of reliving those moments again and again in your mind. You're beating yourself up over the fact you didn't truly notice anything was off earlier. If you just would've trusted your gut feeling a little more or asked a few more questions, maybe things could've been different.

You shake those thoughts away, though, knowing there's nothing to be done now. What's done is done and all you can do is hope and wait for Clay to get out of that surgery safe and sound.

After meeting up with Neyer and the police, you discovered they already caught Puttnam and Penny. They're still looking for Harper and Sam, but you're sure they'll catch them soon. They're in this hospital somewhere and there's no way they're coming out of it without wearing handcuffs. There's officers at every exit, so it's just a matter of time.

Your sadness and confusion has morphed into anger now. You feel betrayed for Clay and his family, and you feel betrayed for yourself for the fact these doctors you trusted turned out to be nothing but heartless, greedy monsters. These people who you looked up to, who you wanted to be like, are nothing but frauds.

Heat starts to travel up your neck, and the feeling only intensifies when a loud noise ahead of you catches your attention and you spot a familiar brunette trying to open a locked door.

"Hey, Mrs. Beresford," you call out, Sam's head instantly snapping in your direction. "Or should I call you Ms. Lockwood? Or Ms. Tunnell? Or I know! How about just Sam? Considering that seems to be the only name that stays consistent through all your different identities."

Samantha smirks as she stalks towards you, a look of smugness all over her face. It's hilarious how she clearly thinks she's won. If only she knew how far from the truth that is.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she sighs. "All I'm doing is looking for some answers on my husband's death. I'm just the grieving widow, remember?"

Your blood boils at her comments. How dare she feign innocence when she's probably the one who killed Clay. Your mind goes back to when she was gone from the waiting room for so long, looking for updates on Clay's surgery. She was probably meeting up with all of them, planning on what they were gonna do next. It takes everything in you not to lunge for the woman before you.

"Cut the shit, Sam! I know what you did, and so do the police. Nice work on carrying around your mail with you. Couldn't even cover up your tracks properly. You'll never get away with this no matter how hard you try or how many fake tears you cry."

Sam's smirk falters. She knows she's caught. You can see the realization flash in her eyes. Her mistakes, her missteps, her failures.

"Oh, please," she scoffs, trying to gain back the upper hand. "And who are you, exactly? Nothing but a wannabe surgeon with a little crush on someone else's husband. Real nice."

"Yeah? At least I'm not a killer. And unlike you, I am a surgeon, which is more than you'll ever be while you're locked up behind bars." Crossing your arms over your chest, you tilt your head to the side and call over your shoulder, "She's over here, officers!"

Sam's eyes widen, quickly realizing you had her right where you wanted her. You saw the police officers coming up the hallway off to your right, you just had to buy them some time so they could catch up to you and arrest Sam once and for all.

Now it's your turn to have the smug look on your face as the officers rush past you and get Sam down on the ground. She never even had a chance to try and outrun them.

Walking over to the woman on the ground, you squat down to try and be more in her line of vision. You really wanna make sure she understands the words you're about to utter.

"Oh and, Sam?" You start, practically batting your eyelashes at her as she glares at you. "It's ex-husband now. And trust me, I'll take real good care of him for you."

The woman practically screams as you stand back up and turn on your heel towards the recovery rooms. Clay will be out of surgery soon and you wanna make sure you're there for him when he wakes up.

As you turn the corner, you spare a quick glance back down the way you came. Although you wish everything that happened today never occurred, it gives you great satisfaction to see the officers yank Sam up off the ground and practically drag her towards the exit.

Good, you think. She'll get what she deserves.

*****

After several more hours, you've found yourself sat in a recovery room. Finally.

Not long after the police apprehended Sam, they found Harper and arrested him. He was just sat in his office, evidence laid out on his desk. He was ready for them. If you had to guess, he's probably the only one out of that group who genuinely feels remorse for what they did. You find it hard to sympathize with him at this current moment, though.

Dr. Neyers informed you the surgery went well. They lost Clay right at the end but thankfully were able to bring him back one final time. He lays in front of you now on a hospital bed, the beeping of his heart monitor and his soft breathing the only sounds filling the room.

It's been a few hours since they brought Clay here, and you used that time to catch up on some much needed sleep after being up for nearly twenty-four hours. It was a quick nap, but you feel much better.

You're still trying to process everything that happened. Even with Clay laying here in front of you like this, you and him being the only ones in the room, it still doesn't feel real. Part of you thinks that maybe you'll wake up at any moment and it'll all have been a dream. Another part of you worries that it's all too real, and that there's a chance Clay might not wake up.

Dr. Neyers stopped in a few minutes ago and told you that Clay should be waking up any minute now. He might be a bit groggy but he would be awake nonetheless.

You’ve practically jumped out of your seat every other second since then each time you thought you saw movement. So far still nothing, but you’re hopeful it’ll be soon. You need it to be. You promised Clay’s mom you’d look after him, and you don’t plan on breaking that promise anytime soon.

Sighing, you get up from your spot in the chair next to Clay’s bed and instead take a seat to the left of him, your hip brushing his blanket covered thigh as you try not to fall off the side.

He looks peaceful as he lays there sleeping. So innocent from all the horrors that went on while he was in surgery. You dread the moment you’ll have to fill him in on all that happened. When you’ll have to tell him his mom—the woman he loves so dearly—is dead.

Emotion floods you and you try not to let it take you over. Instead you reach forward and grab Clay’s right hand in yours. His skin is warm and soft under your touch and you find comfort in it. You hope that when he does wake up, he’ll find comfort in yours too.

Rubbing your thumb back and forth over Clay’s knuckles, you look over at the EKG machine he’s hooked up to. His heart rate is steady, strong. You’re glad he made it out of the surgery, it’s rare people make it out of one transplant, yet alone two on the same day. Clay’s strong, you know he’ll get through this. He has to. His mom died to save his life and you don’t know a worse tragedy than one where neither one of them makes it out of this. The thought alone—

Your head snaps forward instantly. You wait a second and when it happens again you know you’re not just imagining it.

Clay’s hand squeezed yours. Twice!

Leaning forward, you watch as Clay’s eyes shift back and forth under his eyelids before finally, finally, they open. Immediately you’re met with two pale blue eyes.

He’s awake.

“Clay,” you whisper, not wanting to startle him. His eyes quickly find yours and you smile as you feel him squeeze your hand again. “Hey there. You’re okay, it’s all gonna be okay.”

Clay tilts his head to the side and you watch as he feebly attempts to sit up, no doubt trying to get some water. He winces and gives up immediately. You know that pain all too well.

“I got it, it’s okay. Don’t move.” Reaching over, you grab the small cup of water you poured a bit earlier incase Clay wanted it when he woke up. You hold the straw for him and bring it forward, allowing him to take a few sips. He tilts his head back when he’s done and you place the cup back on his bedside table.

“Thank you,” he croaks out, his voice raspier than normal. Even though you figured that would be the case, the deeper sound still takes you by surprise. You try not to take enjoyment in the sound, all things considered.

The blonde clears his throat and reality hits you as you realize you’ll now have to do the thing you’ve been dreading; telling Clay everything. You’re not sure where to begin, but you figure the beginning is probably the best place to start.

“Clay,” you say, uneasiness already settling in your voice. “I have to tell you something.”

A beat passes and as you go to continue, Clay beats you to it. “My mother is dead.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “How-How do you know that?”

He closes his eyes and takes a breath before saying, “I know everything. About Jack, Puttnam, and Penny. About-About Sam.” Pain crosses Clay’s features, but you’d bet anything that this time it isn’t physical. “When I was under, I wasn’t actually asleep. I don’t know how to describe it other than saying it was an out of body experience. I saw everything, heard everything, felt everything.”

“Oh, Clay,” you sigh, your heart breaking at his words. Immediately you know what he’s referring to. Intraoperative awareness is rare, and to think Clay was experiencing it during one of the worst possible surgeries and during one of the worst possible times absolutely blows your mind. What did he ever do to deserve this?

“What do you remember last?” You ask him. You don’t want to push Clay, but you need to know if there’s any gaps you need to fill in for him. Does he know he’s safe? Does he know everyone who tried to hurt him last night is never going to get near him again?

“The last thing I remember is talking to my mother,” he says it almost as a whisper and the sound nearly brings tears to your eyes. “She told me what she did, what she asked you to do. I get why she did it, but God, I just—“

Clay cuts himself off, tears beginning to fall from his eyes and down his pale cheeks. The sight tears you in two and causes tears of your own to fall.

“I’m so sorry, Clay.” Your voice cracks, the ability to hide any emotion completely disappearing. You reach out and brush away some of Clay’s tears with your thumb. The man practically melts into your touch and you find yourself wanting nothing more than to just wrap him in your arms and tell him it’s all gonna be okay.

“Did the cops catch them all, at least?” There’s resentment in his tone that you don’t blame him for at all. You can’t even begin to imagine the betrayal he must feel right now.

“Every single one of them. They’re all on their way to the station right now if they’re not already there. The evidence is solid, they’re never gonna see the light of day again and if they do it’ll be when they’re old and gray. You’re safe, Clay. I promise you that.”

The businessman nods his head and you can see him relax a little bit more. Silence settles over the two of you again, but it’s comfortable. Clay has also retaken ahold of your hand and this time he’s the one rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

Even though he’s the one that’s been through hell, he’s trying to comfort you. The thought makes you chuckle lightly and Clay smiles at the sound.

“Before all the doctors and cops realize I’m awake and start flooding in, I just wanted to say thank you and I’m sorry.” The blue-eyed man looks at you sincerely and you find yourself trying to hold back a frown.

“Clay, you don’t have to thank me for anything, and you have nothing to be sorry for. You had no control over what happened to you, over what these people did to you and your family.”

“I know, but you also didn’t have to get wrapped up in it. I should never have asked you to stay earlier. You were going home and I should’ve respected that and let you go. And my mother asking you to look after me? It’s too much, you don’t deserve—“

“Clay Beresford, stop it right now. Don’t you dare feel guilty about anything. No one forced me to stay here and no one forced me to accept what your mother was asking of me. I did it all on my own. The first time we spoke I told you that no matter what I’d be here for you, in whatever way you may need me, and I meant that. No matter what happened or no matter what will happen, I’m here for you and I don’t want you to ever feel like that’s a burden on me. That you’re a burden on me. We met for a reason and even though what’s happened after that is horrible, I will never take that for granted. I care about you, Clay, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop.”

Clay just lays there and smiles up at you, reveling in the passionate look on your face and in your eyes. He saw it yesterday when you guys met and talked about his fears and thoughts on the surgery. He admires your ability to speak your mind and stand up for what you believe in and how you feel. People like you are rare to him, and he feels incredibly lucky to have found you.

“You don’t know how badly I wish I could hug you right now.” The two of you burst into laughter but Clay’s laughs are suddenly cut short when he groans at the ache in his chest. “Ugh, I’m definitely not gonna get used to that.”

You try to tame your laughter, not wanting to trigger Clay to start laughing and hurt himself again. “Trust me when I say it’ll get better…eventually.”

Clay smirks before sighing, his eyes finding yours. “Seriously, though. Thank you for everything. I can’t imagine not having you by my side right now or what would’ve happened if I didn’t have that conversation with you yesterday. I hope you know how much I appreciate you, no matter how little time we’ve known each other.”

Heat rises up your neck and into your cheeks at his kind words. To think this is where you’ve found yourself when you didn’t even personally know this man twenty-four hours ago. It’s funny how life works sometimes. “You’re welcome, Clay. I appreciate you too.”

As if on cue, there’s a knock on the door and not a second later Dr. Neyers walks in, clipboard in hand. “Good morning, Clayton. We have a lot to discuss.”

Clay nods his head and the two of you share a look. Clay would never say it, but you know he thinks it’s best if he handles this part on his own. He and Neyers have a lot to go over and you’re sure the officers that were walking around the hall earlier will be in to speak with him soon as well. You’ll be here when he needs you, though. You always will.

“I’m gonna go grab something from the cafeteria. I’ll be back, but call me if you need me.” Clay nods his head and you quickly grab his cellphone from the table before placing it next to his hand. That way he won’t have to try and reach for it if he does need you before you get back.

Dr. Neyers gives you a small smile before you walk out of the room and close the door behind you. The click of the door handle fills the silence of the empty hallway and you find yourself grateful for it. You were worried your coworkers would be standing around waiting for any and all updates on Clay, and more specifically you and Clay.

When you were making your way to Clay’s room after the surgery, you caught a few of the nurses and other residents whispering to each other in the hall, no doubt trying to figure out why you’re suddenly involved in Clay’s case. You definitely can’t wait to see what the story is when you come back to work tomorrow. This hospital sure is gossipy.

The walk to the cafeteria is peaceful, though, and that’s only broken when your phone starts buzzing in your bag. You reach in and grab it and nearly laugh out loud at the message on your screen.

Jill:

Umm why did I just overhear people talking about you being here all night with Clay!? What happened, is he okay??? And why are there cops all over the place??? Fill me in on everything!!!

Oh, God, you think. Where do I even begin?

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Kinkuary Day 6

AN: Let it be known that this Chris lives in my head rent-free. I know exploring free use with a dominant partner isn't a new concept, but I still don't see it explored as much, so I thought it would be fun to try my hand at it. Especially with the king of the service doms.

Synopsis: Everything sucks. Today might be one of the worst days of your life (and that's against some stiff competition). Fortunately for you, you have a boyfriend who is more than happy to distract you.

General tags and warnings: Christopher Bang/Bang Chan x Fem! Reader, established relationship, some angst early on but, nothing too bad imo, Christopher being the nation's best boyfriend and that's it. This is pretty much porn with very little plot.

Primary kink: Free use.

Smut tags and warnings: Chris struggling to relinquish control lmao but, Soft Dom! Chris nonetheless, sub! Reader but she does take charge quite a bit in this, free use, facesitting, slight overstimulation (f. receiving), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, lots of praise and petnames because it's Chris, Daddy kink, creampie and nipple play (f. receiving).

Word count: 2k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You're surprised you're able to still trudge through your front door after the day you've had. Between completely forgetting about an assignment that was due today, six separate customers yelling at you and your phone screen shattering, saying today has been a bad day would be putting it kindly. You've never wanted to just disappear to a cottage in the countryside more. You're sure you could convince Chris to leave with you.

Speaking of which, the sight of your boyfriend on your shared couch does help ease some of the overall terribleness that has been weighing you down all day. Dropping your bag, you make your way over to him. Wrapping your arms around his broad, solid body while you nuzzle against his neck. His mere presence is enough to relax the tension in your shoulders and soothe the anxiety that never seems to quite go away.

“Hi baby. Didn't know you were home. How was your day?” He asks, taking off his headphones. Placing them and his laptop on your coffee table, which does make you pout a little since he's no longer in your arms. However, he does turn to you and you're struck with just how soft and handsome he looks. That, combined with his question, makes your throat burn and your eyes start to sting.

“Horrible,” you mutter, nestling yourself into his chest and sighing contently when he rubs your back and happily crushes you to his frame. It's easy to forget everything when he holds you like this. All the shitty professors, entitled customers and piles of coursework fade away and there's nothing in your mind but, Chris.

“I'm sorry, baby. Do you want to talk about it? How can I make it better?” God, does he have any idea how irrevocably in love with him you are? Sometimes, you think you might have been some hero in a past life for him to wind up in your life. However, you mull his offer over before an idea finally sets in.

“Lavender?” You ask, blinking up at him and pressing yourself as close to him as humanly possible. Clutching at his simple, thin shirt while you wait for his answer.

“Are you sure? You have had a pretty shitty day so I don't know–”

“Yes, Daddy. I'm sure. So, lavender?” You don't mean to cut him off but, you really do need this right now. His concern is sweet and you always appreciate it but, you just need to shut your brain off for a few hours.

Exhilaration creeps up your spine as you watch the way his face shifts when your words register to him. His hold on you tightening marginally but you notice it all the same.

“Okay, lavender.”

That's all it takes for you to launch yourself into his lap. Nearly toppling both of you over in the process but, Chris steadies you while you make yourself at home in his lap. Holding his face in your hands while you slot your mouth against his. It's messy and more eagerness than anything on your end but, it feels so good to just kiss him again. Chris does try to bring some order into your uncoordinated liplock, guiding your mouth against his while his hands rest on your hips.

Sex wasn't on your mind before you walked through the front door but, now? Grinding down on the hardness you can feel starting to form under you while you explore Chris's mouth? Desire twists like a knife in the pit of your stomach. Your clit throbbing with every clumsy brush against his lap and your walls starting to clench and unclench almost painfully. It's probably some record how quickly your panties become a mess while you hump against Chris for dear life.

“Off please,” you breathe once the two of you separate to catch your respective breaths. Saliva smeared across both of your mouths and you would dive back in if you weren't so focused on getting his shirt off. Luckily for you, Chris is just as impatient as you are so he tugs it off within seconds. Tossing it to be forgotten on your living room floor.

You can't help the moan that bubbles out of you at the sight of his bare chest. You've seen it thousands of times and it still never fails to turn your blood molten. Palming as much of him as your hands can, you litter his neck with kisses and nips. Whimpering into his skin when his hands drift from your hips to grab and knead your ass over your work skirt. His hips shallowly thrusting up into you. Fuck, you're already so tightly wound.

A startled noise leaves Chris when you (gently) shove him onto his back but, he doesn't complain otherwise. Just watches you with a mixture of want and curiosity through his curly hair. His eyes widen when you eventually shuffle up his body until you're hovering over his beautiful face. A shudder runs through you when his tongue darts out to lick his full lips before his dark eyes meet your own again.

You're too desperate to care about getting undressed so, you hurriedly shove your panties to the side before easing yourself onto his face. The first touch his mouth against your drenched, puffy folds sends you reeling. You grab the back of the couch in an attempt to steady yourself but, Chris doesn't give you a chance. Lapping and sucking at you with so much intensity from the get go that you can already feel your thighs starting to quiver.

“Ah, Daddy,” you whimper when he decides to focus all of his attention and energy on your clit. “Fuck, oh my god,” comes your broken moan when he attaches himself to it. Licking and drawing patterns into that you couldn't hope to decipher at the moment when it feels like you're able to break into a million, little pieces soon. It's all so lewd and obscene and hot. The wet sounds of him eating you coupled with your wanton noises of pleasure seeming to echo throughout your entire apartment.

Your hips move on their own accord. Using his unfairly gifted mouth and cute nose to get yourself off. You're practically riding his face at this point and, based on the moans Chris presses into you, he's enjoying this just as much as you are. You know if he had it his way, he'd be using his hands to shove you even further into his face but, he's happy to lay there and let you use him until you're satisfied.

Which doesn't take all that long. Usually, you're pretty good at being able to tell when you're about to orgasm but, this time it catches you completely off-guard. A jumbled mess of ‘Daddy’ and ‘Chris’ fall from your lips as your body convulses. Your fingernails dig into the couch so fiercely that for a fleeting moment you're worried you might have ruined it.

Chris doesn't allow your mind to wonder for too long, though. Licking your gushing wetness like it's the first bit of liquid he's had in days while his nose brushes your throbbing clit. Your thighs shake and tightening around his head as the familiar burn of overstimulation starts to settle in the apex of your thighs and creep to your extremities.

“Da–Daddy,” you choke out, winding your hand into his hair and tugging his mouth away from you, “To–Too much,” you finish with a great deal of effort. Using all of your strength to move off of him until you're hovering over him. Your respective, unsteady breathing all that can be heard.

Cracking an eye open to look at him is a grave mistake. Between his wild eyes, unruly hair, flushed cheeks and full, bruised lips covered in you, you never stood a chance. And the sporadic clenching and unclenching of your still not filled pussy helps make that abundantly clear.

Chris watches you while you shift down his body. Air catching in his lungs when your hands reach for the waistband of his sweats and impatiently tug them down. He's so hard and a teasing dribble of pre-cum leaks from his tip that you can't help yourself from bending down and licking it.

“Fu–Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, throwing his head back while his hands clench and unclench at his sides. Cute. His hips just barely jerk up in search of more relief from your mouth but, you don't give him the satisfaction. You have other plans in mind.

Grabbing his thick cock, you guide it to your dripping entrance. Just barely able to keep your eyes open to watch him as you sink down onto him. You lose that battle very quickly. Your eyes fluttering shut with every inch of him you sink down on until he's fully inside of you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You can already feel tears building up at the corners of your eyes just at the sheer fullness you feel right now.

“–so tight. Such a good girl. Always so fucking good,” Chris's words bring you back down for a moment and you blink your bleary eyes open to look at him. Your walls clamp down on him harshly when the sight of your sweaty, flushed boyfriend greets you. That's all the prompting you need to start a brutal pace. His cock just opens you up so deliciously that you can't help but bounce on it. The sounds of your skin hitting his and the filthy squelching between your thighs nearly drowning out your shared noises of pleasure.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” you chant, impatiently tugging open your work shirt and shoving down your bra until your breasts are finally free. Chris's eyes burn as they watch you palm your tits and tug on your nipples until you're just barely able to focus on fucking yourself stupid on him. “I feel so good, Daddy. Your cock makes me feel so full,” you whimper after an especially harsh twist of your nipples.

“Yeah?” He pants out, his dark locks starting to stick to his sweaty forehead while his eyes struggle to pick between looking at your beautiful face, your hands toying with yourself or his cock disappearing inside of your scorching pussy. “Does my princess like using Daddy to get herself off, hmm? Does it feel good to fuck yourself on Daddy's cock while he just lies here? Tell me, baby.”

“Y-Yes, so good, Daddy. Your cock feels ah fuck so amazing, Daddy. You feel so good, Daddy.” You whine, one of your hands snaking its way between your thighs to rub against your swollen clit. A fractured moan bubbling out of your throat while you rub frantic circles against yourself and try to maintain the pace you set on Chris's cock.

“That's good. You look so pretty using me to get yourself off, sweetheart,” he coos, giving you a smile so soft that you can feel your heart grow in your chest while your release grows closer and closer. “Are you going to cum, baby? Gonna cum all over my cock, beautiful? Hmm? I want you to. Wanna see you cum so badly. Wanna feel you make a mess all over me.”

And just like that you feel your entire body seize. You're not even aware of what's coming out of your mouth right now but, you can't bring yourself to care. Your vision blurs at the edges while your entire body shudders. It takes every ounce of you not to completely collapse ontop of him while you ride out the waves that keep crashing into your limp body.

“–my girl,” is all you hear in the distance before you feel his large hands grab your hips and something warm filling your spasming walls. Opening your eyes with a great deal of effort, you're greeted with the sight of a panting, fucked out Chris. His cock pulsing inside of you with every rope of cum that shoots out of it. That does eventually prompt you to collapse onto his sturdy chest. Nuzzling into his neck while your shared releases start to leak out of you.

“Feel better?” He asks, rubbing your back soothingly while pressing featherlight kisses against your forehead.

“Yes, thank you. I love you,” you mutter tiredly into his skin, pressing yourself as close to him as you can.

“I love you too, baby,” are the last words you hear before succumbing to the fatigue that's been calling you all day.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Kinkuary Masterlist | Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi.

[visforvengeance]

944 miles

Requested by: no one<3

Notes: Hi! So sorry I took so long to post this lmao. Um this will be a series. I haven't worked out how many chapters there will be but I do know how I want at least the next two chapters to be. If you've seen my last post where I posted a snippet of it, then you know I had an OC named Rue Winston. That will be changed and the only thing that will remain is the last name and no character description will be involved but do know I had black!reader in mind. Thanks for reading <3

Pairing: Carmen Berzatto x Reader

Warnings: cursing? she/her pronouns. i think that's it. it's only the first chapter so nothing too crazy going on.

masterpost

Fatima rushed to the Berzatto Family Salon door with her young daughter by her side. Fatima wouldn’t have been late if it weren’t for her babysitter canceling at the last minute. The poor child was just too young to care for herself. 

As Fatima frantically searched around the building for Donna, her hairstylist, Y/N sat idly by. She played with the toys her mother had gotten her for her 5th birthday, which was just a few months before. When Fatima’s eyes landed on Donna’s, they reflected a range of emotions. 

Donna felt bad for the young mother, having three kids of her own, she knew what Fatima was suffering. Donna’s eyes traveled to the playing toddler on her floor, not a care for the outside world. She reminded her of her own child, Carmen, the youngest. 

“Donna! I’m so sorry I’m late. My babysitter bailed last minute and I had no one else to watch her,” Fatima was on the verge of tears. This wasn’t the future she imagined when she found out she was with child. 

Her husband, Ezra, had walked out on his family when their daughter was 2 years old. He had claimed he never wanted a child in the first place. 

“Ok ok ok, Hun. Just take a deep breath, it’s fine. I have a son who’s around the same age as her. He’s here with me today, they could play together!”

She rushed through the door, ignoring everyone except for Carmen. He sat on his bed watching his best friend bounce around in his bedroom. 

“It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!” She squealed while clutching the unopened envelope to her chest. 

Carmen was dreading the day when they received their acceptance letters. He hadn’t told her that his college of choice was in New York. He knew that she’d d be attending college in Chicago, but fucking Carmen. He always had to strive for the best. 

He felt like shit, but the pure excitement on her face was infectious. He couldn’t help his smile as they switched envelopes, now holding each other’s futures in their hands. 

“I’ll go first, you ready?” He watched as she bit at her nails anxiously, she nodded. 

Carmen opened the letter, he spared one glance at her before he began reading. 

“Dear Ms. Winston, I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as an official student of the English Literature and Arts Department…” Rue’s hearing had faded as she allowed the words to process. 

When it finally hit her, she rushed into Carmen’s arms. Her tears soaked into the cotton of his shirt but he didn’t let that deter him from telling her just how proud he was of her. When they pulled away, he held her face in his hands as she took deep breaths to calm herself down. He looked into her eyes, silently asking if she was okay. She nodded, looking back into his blue ones. 

Y/N carefully tore into the letter, her eyes scanning over the paper. The Institute of Culinary Education, 225 Liberty Street, 3rd Floor, New York, NY 10281. New York? No, this can’t be. He’d tell her if he was going to New York, right?

She cleared her throat and began reading, “Dear Mr. Berzatto, we are very pleased to offer you admission into The Institute of Culinary Arts.” Her throat ran dry as she read. What the fuck?

“Why didn’t you tell me you applied for New York?”

“You’re the one who told me not to tell you,” he huffed, suddenly feeling defensive at his lack of mentioning. 

“It’s fucking New York, Carmen! I meant don’t fucking tell me if it was in the goddamn state. I thought that was obvious. Why there, anyway?”

He felt strings tugging at his heart as her voice cracked. Why did he choose New York? A 944-mile drive away from his home? His family? From the girl he loved? When making his decision, She was the last thing on his mind at the time. Mikey not allowing him to work at the family restaurant fucked with Carmen’s nerves. 

Lack of communication led to him believing that his brother thought he wasn’t good enough. So, Carmen figured “Maybe if I go to this prestigious school and become the world’s greatest chef, he’ll think I’m good enough then.” 15-year-old Carmen had made up his mind, everything else be damned. But, nothing would prepare him for the moment it came time to tell his best friend that he was leaving her. 

“It’s the best culinary school in the state,” her eyes began to water. She felt fucking elated that Carmen was getting into the school of his dreams, but it being 14 hours away was breaking her heart. She didn’t want to make him feel bad or ruin this moment, but the way she could feel herself start to sweat was overwhelming. 

She decided to drop it. She didn’t want Carmen to feel bad about his decision. Willing her tears to dry, she quickly smiled. “I’m so proud of you,” She was genuinely so proud of Carmen. She wanted nothing more than for him to succeed. If his succeeding meant she had to cheer him on from Chicago, she’d do it proudly. 

Carmen could feel the sadness radiating off of her. He knew what she was doing. The switch from being on the verge of tears to smiling brightly was a reaction he’d seen far more than he liked. Being the reason wasn’t something he liked too much, either. But, when she said that she was proud of him, he believed her. He always believed her. 

The last few days of school had been so tiring with graduation and Carmen leaving for NYC soon. She and Carmen spent as much time with each other as they could. Fatima worked a lot and Donna always had something that needed her attention. Everyone was busy. Summertime was approaching which meant Mikey had to prepare. He’s still not letting Carmen help, though. 

She sighed as she felt her back hit the mattress beneath her. She hadn’t had time to relax and take a deep breath until now. She was home alone, with no plans and a severe and excruciating lack of Carmen. She saw less of him after the pair read their acceptance letters together. She didn’t know whether it was because of the news he shared or he was just extremely busy. 

Regardless of whether they were fighting or not, Carmen never avoided her. There was no reason for him to be mad at her and she wasn’t particularly mad at him, but there was a dark cloud that hung over them. An unwavering force that bullied its way between them, you could practically see it. 

She wanted to be happy for him, but the negative feelings always crawled their way back up. Was she overreacting? This wasn’t the end of them. They could always call, visit each other, or text. It wasn’t like he was moving to another country. 

He was leaving her today. She began to panic at the thought but forced herself through it. She gathered all of the items she wanted to give to him before he left. His favorite shirt that he’s always searching for (she stole it), the matching bracelet that he’d leave on her dresser so he wouldn’t lose it, and a painting that she made for them. The painting was of them together. She spent the entire school year working on it, she made it for him after he practically begged her to do a painting for him. 

After she was done, she made her way next door. The constant ruckus could be heard outside of the door. Donna is yelling for Mikey to help his brother, Sugar and Richie are fighting over god knows what. She pushed herself through the door. It was warm inside, and it smelled like apple pie and cinnamon. It always smelled like something delicious at the Berzatto house. 

Donna noticed her first, rushing to her while calling for Mikey to come and grab the (not heavy) box from her. Donna pulled the younger girl into her warm embrace, bombarding her with questions as she always did. It never bothered her as she knew what Donna was like and loved her dearly. Donna always treated her as if she was her child, she’d look after her when Fatima was busy with work. She’d invite her on family trips, she was an unofficial family member like Richie. 

“How are you, sweetheart? You hungry? We made a little something for Bear before it’s time for him to go,” Donna held her face in her hands as she spoke. Her heart warmed at Donna’s actions. Despite her doing things like this since the moment they met, it always made her smile. She politely declined, though. She wanted to be alone with Carmen for a while. 

“I’m not hungry at the moment, Mama D, but I promise I’ll eat before I go,” Donna nodded and gave her cheeks a small pat. They spoke a little bit more before Donna left her to continue doing what she was doing. She had a habit of minimizing her emotions when something big happened. She kept a straight as she walked up the stairs to Carmen’s room, but her mind was racing. She didn’t want to think about the bad things that could happen while she and Carmen were apart. 

She pushed the door open, standing in the doorway as she watched the two brothers talk. “Dude, you’re doing it the wrong way-“

“I think I know how to properly tape up a box, Carmen.”

“You’re literally doing it wrong.”

She couldn't hold in her laughter as they bickered back and forth. Their heads snapped toward her, startled by her presence. “Jesus, fuck, bunny. You scared the shit out of me!” Mikey set down the box he was holding to rush over and hug her. She hugged him back, squeezing him a bit as she did so. “Sorry, Mikey. I wanted to see who’d get hit first,” Mikey chuckled. 

She and Mikey had a special kind of bond. She had a unique bond with each Berzatto child. But, the two of them were like siblings. Mikey was like the big brother she never had, always to her rescue if needed. When Carmen couldn’t be bothered, she had Mikey and Sugar. 

Before he could respond, Carmen cleared his throat. Mikey looked between the two, gears turning in his head. You see, Michael knew of his feelings for the girl. He was constantly trying to get Carmen to step up and admit his feelings for the girl but Carmy was always too nervous to do so, afraid he’d lose her. He couldn’t risk that. 

Mikey nodded, raising his arms in defense and he backed off, “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She sat on Carmen’s bed, looking around his room. It looked nearly empty, aside from the furniture. “Did you get a chance to look at the things I brought?” Carmen looked over everything except for the painting. He’d seen her art before, he knew how talented she was. But he feared that if he looked at it now, his heart would break all over again. 

“Yeah, everything except for the painting.” She felt her body twitch as their eyes locked. His expression was unreadable as she wondered why he hadn’t taken a glance. “Promise you’ll take a peek when you get to your dorm?” She thought she sounded fucking pathetic. ‘Please look at this painting that means so fucking much to me, it’s the least you could do.’ She wanted to throw up. 

In reality, Carmen didn’t want to look. Not because he feared he’d hate it, but because then he’d be forced back to reality. The reality that he’s in love with his best friend whom he’s about to leave for four fucking years. The reality is that he’s loved her since middle school and now it’s too late because he’s a coward. “Promise.”

She and Carmen had spent their last few hours together in his bed. The sun had fallen, and everything was packed up and ready to go. Carmen said his goodbyes to everyone, except her. She lingered somewhere nearby, watching as he hugged and kissed his family. They were both trying to prolong their last few moments together. “I’m gonna miss you,” she could hardly speak. God, did she not want to cry right now. 

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Carmen’s facade was starting to crack. He allowed it to, he only allowed himself to feel in front of her. “And don’t forget about me, either.” Her tears were streaming down her face, heavy drops landing on her shirt. Carmen couldn’t handle it anymore as he pulled her into a tight hug. Their tears soaked into the other’s shirt as they cried together. They stayed like that for what felt like hours until Mikey called for Carmen. She watched as her best friend drove away. She’d never believe you if you told her that she wouldn’t hear from him for 2 years.

[karlachismylife]

I woke up (was sleeping cuz I spent the night crying over fucking higher math, might go back to sleep for a little bit more cuz I don't wanna face the world and am still tired) and saw that my Russian words post was reblogged by a bunch more people I respect and look up to (that also happened in one previous wave of popularity that post gained a day or two ago). And like, first of all, I am intimidated by being perceived by people so way out of my league. Second, this definitely shows that there's a writing circle in this fandom of very talented writers and it's not that big. And while my ego definitely wants to somehow worm my way into that circle to be with the cool kids, I very much understand what a chasm separates my writing and their writing, so it makes me feel self-conscious about it again. Especially because I spent last days writing absolute silliness and all these people manage to write incredibly gripping, emotional and deep things. Like very psychological and smart and clever. And finally, I am a little scared to be seen on that scale and by some of those people, because they are so opinionated + well-spoken + have quite clear standpoints. And I am scared to be seen with my potentially problematic/bad/shallow character interpretations and very shallow texts. Cuz I won't be able to back it up substantially, won't be able to defend why I don't write deep enough/why I don't put in more effort/why I mischaracterize the characters so much. What if I actually wrote something problematic. I never intended to, but I might have just done not enough research and self-education. Or something. I don't know.

Obviously I am not actually visible on that scale, it's just one post with writing aid, none of my works reached those people. But what if. I am not smart, and I am immature, and I don't really have anything meaningful to offer. I am usually fine with this, like, I do believe there are also needed stories about raccoons being befriended through the power of cartoons and apple slices, or short fluff pieces with no plot other than two people loving each other and kissing. I am usually pretty comfortable in this niche.

But right now I just got such a strong wave if anxiety. And I know this is just a corner of the internet where no one even could name my full name and I have no chances of meeting any of you irl. But this is a place I want to belong to. I wanna be in the fandom, and I wanna be someone people know as, well, maybe the hyena CEO, or maybe as the fluff gorilla, or - my dream - as Karlach x Soap weirdo. Like. I wanna share what I have with people and be accepted. I feel so very grateful every time I get the feeling of being accepted from notifications, or messages, or asks, or anything. When people show interest and enjoy my things. I am anxious to lose it in case I turn out to be not good enough (which is the motto of my life). I'm pretty chill about being not good enough for many things, it's just facts and well, that's just me. But when it's about something I really really wanna be a part of, like the community here, this scares me, because this failure will hurt like a hundred others didn't.

I'm sorry for ranting, I might delete this later, I see the new asks guys and I will be trying to write something today, I just woke up and I'm a mess and it's not a real problem but it just made me cry for a moment. I'm okay, I'll be fine, I know I'm here to just enjoy myself and hope other people will too, so I'm not like going into hiding or anything. Just needed to say this, cuz whenever there's "fandom discourse" I am so scared I'm actually part of whatever problem people are discussing. And stuff. Yeah gonna go have a cup of tea and sleep a bit or at least lie down. I'm sweaty, temperature regulation is not a thing my body is good at, lmao.

Love you all so much, eternally grateful for all the love and attention I receive from you comrades. It feels incredible, today is just an anxious day.

[alexanderflowerbird]

DAY 22

Hey! I'm alive! I'm here! And I'm writing! Haha! Woof, my real life has been an interesting blur of work, sister time, friend time, caring for my polycule, husband time, ARCANE, and of course, writing. I have excellent news to report-- my goal for the month was to produce 30K words and GUESS WHAT. YA BOI HAS DONE IT. Even more than that, cuz of COURSE I'm gonna keep going. The writing group had a sprint night where many of us got together to do sprints, and I got so many little scenes done that I'm very excited about lol I got gators that jump like flying fish, I got the Seneca Beast being a fucking nightmare and nuisance, I got Dolcezza and Malachi finally kissing and admitting they like each other [Dolcezza says like, Malachi is so down bad it makes him look stupid lol poor guy he's such a romantic], I got all kinds of shit outta the sprints! My husband also helped me with a situation for the book I'm writing where Malachi and Dolcezza get stranded for a minute due to a car malfunction, and since Harrowben is a Car Gay, they were ready to help me, which resulted in me having a Husband Insert character lmao his name is Ben, he rides a motorcycle, he helps people fix their cars, he razzes Dolcezza for not having a work log for his truck, it's very fun.

I don't think I could have accomplished this much without having a group of people that inspire and encourage me, having a writing group fucking rules tbh. And we're doing a gas up call for me on Wednesday were I get to sit and listen to people bark about the fact that I keep writing emotionally charged stories and scenes that make them wanna scream cry throw up lol I'm SO excited. The gas up calls I've been a part of where I'm on the support side have been so fun and I think taking a break to tumble someone else's concept, to come up with ideas with them, to ask questions about their stories, it's a very good way to reinvigorate your own story/writing brain! Hmmm... I don't think I have anything else exciting to report. I'm just a very busy man lol, I make plans with everyone all the time, and I am not tired, or ungrateful for all the love and attention I receive, or how deeply I am valued in my communities, but man it sure is hard to journal when you're running full sprint and breaking the sound barrier to get all of your shit done lmao. But I'm back on it! Lovely to talk with you again. Today's excerpt is a pre-husband-insert moment between Malachi and Dolcezza while they're waiting for Ben to show up, watching a pair of tortoise-deer creatures battle each other and talking about philosophy. I made Dolcezza a Sagittarius because I can and it makes me laugh lol Taglist: @theskeletonprior @tragedycoded @badscientist @thelittlestspider If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please interact with this post

“Looks like your spark plug is busted…” Malachi says from within the car hood. 

“Ah, damn it all.” Dolcezza groans, sighing and tipping his head back before he goes around the truck to dig around in a large duffle bag Malachi only knows contains some first aid supplies and the flare gun. He produces that and continues digging, checking the canisters for the gun before selecting one with another belabored sigh. 

“Ben’s gonna have my ass.” He says to himself as he moves off the road and into the lush, mossy grass, putting several feet between himself, Malachi and the truck. He raises the gun and fires, the flare producing a comet of black smoke that is oddly ominous for an issue as trivial as spark plugs being shot. Though… Malachi thinks of all the cars abandoned in the wilderness, reclaimed by the land. Perhaps something like this is the sort of life or death situation that calls for a flare that blots the blue of the sky with pitch black. 

“We in some trouble?” Malachi asks cautiously, watching the black smoke disperse. Dolcezza follows his look and huffs a laugh. 

“Oh, no honey. I’m in trouble, but not you. Our travel mechanic just likes black, ah, goth I think they call the style. Town uses red for trouble, yellow for new folks found, blue for new resources. Benji just likes black is all. Shouldn’t be long, they ride a bike like a bat outta hell.” Dolcezza says, returning to the truck to put the flare gun back where it belongs. Malachi hums, coming around the truck to stand next to Dolcezza where he’s leaned his hip against it to light up a cigarette. 

“Is that why there’s so many cars with their hoods opened up?” He asks and Dolcezza hums around his smoke to affirm Malachi’s observation. 

“Makes it easy to tell which ones have been gone through for parts. Ben’s the sort of guy who would know by looking which one’s he’s touched, but they keep the hoods popped for the rest of us that might know what to do with our cars and want to go hunting for bits ourselves.” Malachi knows how to change spark plugs, it’s easy work, but as he looks around them all the cars in sight have been opened up and scavenged. Nothing to do but wait then. Dolcezza offers him his cigarette. Malachi takes it, breathes in the smoke, thinking about Dolcezza’s lips for just an indulgent moment before offering it back. There’s a comfortable silence between them, especially when a pair of tortoises have wandered from behind some of the cars, spotting each other at a distance. They are altered by the territory like anything else have, made strange in that they have long, jagged antlers protruding from their wrinkled heads and their shells are covered with fur the way a water turtle might get grown over with algae. The fur is raised like hackles as they stomp towards each other, making good time for tortoises. They meet and clash their antlers together with clacking that Malachi and Dolcezza can hear from where they stand, battling with slow and determined swings of their long necks. One of them catches the other in the shell and flinging its head back, some of that earthy brown fur goes flying. Malachi and Dolcezza wince in tandem, Malachi softly saying ‘oof’ while Dolcezza whistles. 

“It’s always like this, isn’t it?” Malachi asks, glancing Dolcezza’s way. 

“Sure. It’s always changing, but it’s always like this, yeah.” Dolcezza confirms, eyes still focused on the tortoises and their struggle. “Sometimes it’s worse than this, sometimes it’s better, just like anywhere else I suppose. People make a real fuss outside the territory, ‘specially with how odd the Tennessee Void is, but my heart goes out to people that way. It’s not so bad here… the changing is the worst part, of course. Ain’t nothing comparable to it in this world, I don’t think, not that we know as people.” Dolcezza sighs and looks Malachi’s way.

 “I’ve seen a lot of shit, helpin’ people out here, cartin’ around scientists and shit. Nature don’t got no qualms about killin’ and eatin’. With a lot of things, that’s the whole point of bein’ here. Fuckin’, fightin’, feastin’. Don’t know how we got to thinkin’ we’re different and separate, but it’s what makes us I think… we don’t kill and eat things we love, try not to, anyway, build the whole world round trying not to. But it’s natural.” Dolcezza laughs softly at the way Malachi is looking at him. His stupid fucking face is doing what it does always, admitting his fascination, revealing that he’s captive to Dolcezza’s handsome mouth and the words coming out.  

“Philosophical, I know it. I can go on an’ on, I’ll tell ya that. Some sweet girl I caught up a few months ago told me it’s cuz I’m a Sagittarius, whatever the hell that means. Somethin’ in the stars- she told me all about it but just now I can’t tell it to you again. Don’t know what the stars got to do with us… this, all this here? It’s got to do with us, to be sure.” He gestures around them. 

“Yeah… I get what you mean. We’re not in the stars, we’re here, in nature.” Malachi answers back, and Dolcezza smiles, beautiful, pleased to be understood. 

“‘Xactly.”

[coffeepurpleu]

On a Sweet Night, Be My Lucky Star (01)

Pairing : VampireTaehyung x WitchReader x DemonJungkook

Genre: Supernatural, Smut, Angst, a little of violence,Fluff (I'll try go with all lmao)

Serie: (still don't know how many longer will be, like chapters, but I'm going to make you enjoy it),about updates (there's will be not a specific day to update, *wink).

This will be my first fanfic here, English It's not my first language, so, if you have any suggestion I'll try it🏃🏻‍♀️.

Teaser (if you want to see it) CH02

"Darling, here's a present for you" I saw my grandmother with a small purple bag in her wrinkled hands.

"What is this grandma?" I asked looking at her curiously

"It's a quartz, it will protect you from everything bad" she replied.

I looked at the orange quartz sticking out of my grandmother's fingers, before I received it, everything went dark.

"Grandma?" I whispered looking for her.

I saw a dark shadow pointing at me, water was surrounding me.

I wake up shaken from sleep, looking around, looking for my phone to see the time, 5:55 A.M.

"Well Sunhee, time to start the day" I yawn to look at my dog sleeping comfortably in her bed.

I head towards the bathroom to shower, already dressed, I decide to eat breakfast on the way, I head downstairs grabbing my stuff stuff stuffing it in my bag. I grab my keys, open the door to find Jin. He is my best friend, he has a popular restaurant in town, human, I would say immortal because at 26 years old, he doesn't look that age.

"Jinnie, it's too early for you to open the restaurant, what brings you here?" I ask with an innocent tone.

"You know why I'm here, since lately you go to work without breakfast, I make you breakfast, Yah what a brat you are" he furrows his eyebrows a little.

"So considerate, thank you but I don't need it" I chuckle.

"Sure you do, remind you of the last time you were in the hospital? Besides my food is the best" He strikes a funny pose, where they both end up laughing.

"I'll still have my morning coffee," I say.

"Sure, your caffeine routine I won't take it away, then you get mad at penguin" he laughs squeezing my cheeks.

"Just because you're taller, doesn't give you the right to make fun of me, ugly" I run to my car before he chases after me.

"Who do you think you're talking to? and you can't leave without me" he climbs into the passenger seat, holding my breakfast steady in his hands.

"You started it!" I yell

"Don't you recognize a good joke? you're too sensitive" he rolls his eyes.

" Well, here I leave you, good luck today, I will come at 8, today I want sushi" I mention opening the door and getting out of the car to say goodbye to him.

"Again?, don't stress today, are they going to interview someone new?" he gets out of the car, arranging his clothes.

"Well you pick the food, yes, we need someone at the planning station" I sigh hugging him.

"Everything will be fine, today will be a great day" He pats me on the head before turning and opening the doors to his restaurant, I turn around to go to the company.

I enter the company walking slowly, receiving the good morning greetings from everyone there.

"Excuse me, boss."

I turn to see where the voice is coming from, it's from my receptionist, Lisa, an elf very good at her job.

"Do you need anything?" I ask her

"My mother just died,would you give me 3 days off?" she murmurs.

"Sure, be careful" I hug her before heading to the elevator.

As the elevator doors open, my secretary, Soyeon is revealed with some folders in her hands.

"There's already the new guy for the interview" she mentions bowing giving a smirk.

"Is there something funny I should know about?" I arch an eyebrow.

"It's nothing, it's just, the kid's a nervous wreck" she mutters.

"Oh come on, we were all like that for our first interview, I remember I kept fidgeting in my chair, and I couldn't find something to look at" I chuckle with embarrassment.  

"That must have been cute to see, and funny" We both burst out laughing. "Well, I'll go set up the meetings, you should go to your office, I'll send the boy over" She smiles before turning away.

I walk to my office, take a seat in the swivel chair, taking the folder on the table, I swivel in the chair for a while until there is a knock on the door.

"Come in" I say in a loud voice.

"Good morning, my name is Hoshi, I come for the interview" He mumbles with blushing cheeks.

"Have a seat, so you know what the position is about right?" I look at him intently which makes him shrink a little.

"Yes ma'am, I have been a scholarship holder from the best university in seoul, I would like to put my acquired knowledge into this job" He smiles shyly.

"Good, I will give you a week trial, show your skills" I stretch my hand which is taken by his, he smiles brightly before standing up and bowing.

"Thank you very much, you won't regret it" He leaves the office, with instructions to ask Soyeon for an induction.

I'm in the boardroom, surrounded by partners, we're brainstorming new ideas. 4pm and my eyes are going, a migraine is coming on.

"Well gentlemen, any suggestions you can send them with my assistant Soyeon or to my mail" I smile to go straight to my office, I throw myself on the couch to close my eyes.

"girl, it's 7:30, aren't you going to look for Jin?" I hear Soyeon say

"later, I'm sleepy" I mumble

"I have no other choice" She pulls me from the sofa making me fall on the floor.

"Ouch!" my eyes pop open, I stand up with a frown, wave my hand as a sign that I'm saying goodbye and go to the car.

I turn on the radio to listen to some news, the same old news, fighting over clans, for context.

A long time ago there were fights between different types of species, each with their life partner or destiny, nowadays, even though we live comfortably, there are some types of "clans" that refuse to believe that life partners of different species are not equal to the same (type, an elf with a troll to say something). But clarifying that, being a witch, I have learned to live without a companion, I have my best friend Jin.

"Where's my omma?" I ask getting out of the car walking into the restaurant. "Yah! You know you shouldn't talk like that" Jin mentions, I managed to dodge the incoming punch.

"Come on now! It's funny anyway, it's almost eight o'clock, are you closing up? Remember that tomorrow you will accompany me to Paris" I wink at him.

I usually focus on work although lately I've been tired, I'm CEO of 5 companies, I took 2 weeks off, since Jin's birthday is coming up, and I thought I'd treat us to a trip.

"Yeah, just let me lock up" He mentions taking off his apron, looking for the keys. At that, we hear the door open and see a gray wolf. "Jin?" I say, "What...?" he replies.

Before we can say anything the wolf falls to the ground, we approach him, we see his ribs sticking out with a bruise on top of them. I carefully move him with telekinesis to one of the nearest tables.

"My tablecloth-" Jin reproaches.

"I'll give you a new one, it needs to be healed" I glare at him.

I start to heal it with magic, the bruise was slowly disappearing, sounds of rain were coming from outside, we exchanged glances.

"Let's go before the weather gets worse" I look at Jin "But you're carrying him" he says.

We get in the car, I put on soft music, almost getting home we hear a growl behind us.

"Y/n I think he's awake" Jin whispers.

I look through the mirror to see the wolf's eyes analyzing both of us, I decide to speak as I look back to the road.

"I heal you, you must be hungry, surely there is something you can eat, jin will prepare something for us right?" i look at him.

"Sure, I could make bibimbap" he smiles slightly.

The wolf decides to lie down as soon as we get to the house. We get out of the car, as we enter I get sunhee jumping into my arms, the wolf snorts.

"I'll be in my room, let me know when the food is ready?" i say before yawning, releasing sunhee on the floor.

"Sure, and take a bath you smell nasty" Jin laughs.

"liar!" i go upstairs to lie down on the bed. I close my eyes, falling asleep, when I feel water being poured on me.

"Food is served downstairs!" i see jin running, i go after him. As I sit up, I see the wolf still being cutelicious, he's finished his meal.

"Everything ok? if you have nowhere to stay, you can stay with us, well, in my house, there are many rooms" I smile, he looks at me with astonishment after going to lie down on the sofa.

"Hey are you calling me poor?" Jin frowns.

"Of course not, otherwise I wouldn't put up with your ugly jokes "I grimace.

"Oh come on, you have no sense of humor, sourpuss" he mentions.

"Yes I do, right I do sunhee? come on let's go to sleep" I hold sunhee in my arms, bowing. "Rest"

"Well I'll go to sleep buddy, see you tomorrow" Jin mumbles.

With the lights off, the wolf turns into a man, he goes through rooms to take a bath, he found a library with a big purple armchair, plants adorning the ceiling, even though he still didn't trust them, he could rest well, just like before.

The next morning, the wolf fell asleep in the library, he had found some old clothes, so he put them on and went downstairs to make himself a cup of coffee. What he didn't expect was that Jin was in the kitchen.

"Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNN!" Jin yells out.

"Hey man calm down, I'm the wolf, my name is Namjoon" he bowed.

I walk down the stairs with the sheet wrapped around me.

"Why are you guys making noise so early in the morning" I complains

"Because he appears just like that" Jin mentions pointing Namjoon up and down.

"It's normal, I'm a hybrid" Nam shrugs, turning around to make himself a coffee.

"Well, we have to get used to it, we have to buy him clothes too" I walk over to Nam. "Let me have some coffee please, and Jin, it smells burnt"

"Go ahead, it's your house anyway" Nam takes his cup of coffee to sit at the table.

"My pancakes! Can't you use magic and redo them?" Jin complains.

"Oh come on! It should be for life and death situations" I mentions

"This is life or death! It's our food!" he shakes me.

"Well well, next time we can make dumplings" I wiggled my fingers making the pancakes perfectly cooked. We hear the light laughter coming from Nam.

My phone vibrates, it's Soyeon.

"Hey girl, how's it going? You know they have a flight today right?"she mentions. "Shit, I knew something had to be done, wait" I hang up quickly to turn around to see the guys.

"Well Nam, I scheduled a trip for me and Jin since his Birthday is coming up, it's today, but I don't know if you would be ok here alone, and Jin, would you agree for him to come?" I look at them waiting for an answer.

"For me, no problem" Jin looks at Nam.

"I don't know, I don't want to cause any trouble, besides isn't it your gift for him?" he purses his lips a little bit

"Yes, but you can also see it as an opportunity to buy clothes and have fun, then" I pat sunhee who is beside me.

"That's okay, I guess it'll be fun" he murmurs.

I call Soyeon to tell him to tell the driver that someone else is coming, then chat with Elizabeth, an old friend.

Crazy witch🐙: Hey bitch, are you there?

The Coolest👾 :Taking care of Sunhee? Why not Flor¿😯

Crazy witch🐙:Because I love you and you love me😁

The Coolest👾 : Well, leave her to Shiro😪

Crazy witch🐙:Are you still in the fashion show?👀

The Coolest👾 :Yes, Flor mentions if we can make a camping trip soon.😶‍🌫️

Crazy witch🐙:Sure when I get back from Paris✈️

"Are you done yet?" Namjoon appears behind me.

"Man, take it easy, you scared me" I put one hand on my chest.

"I'm sorry, but Jin is already out with the bags, I've already bathed, I'm changed but you're missing" he smiles apologetically.

"Yes I'm coming, get in the driver's car when I arrive, I won't be late" I snort to go upstairs to take a cold bath, I decide to wear a jean skirt with a grey croptop with flowers on it and my boots. I walk over to the mirror I have, I hear a car beep.

"I'm coming!" I yell to grab my purse, I put on a knitted beret my grandmother made me, the quartz necklace, and my holographic earrings. I walk downstairs to see Mr. Lee greeting me.

"How are you Miss?" Between his light wrinkles I see a warm smile. "Ready for a break, how have you and your family been?" I ask tapping his shoulder.

"Very well, now come on upstairs it will be late" he opens the door for me.

"Girl, what took you so long?" Jin asked.

"Wait! Sunhee, god I almost forgot" I quickly get off to look for Sunhee and her things, I get back on next to her. "Mr. Lee, how much time do you pray you have? I have to leave sunhee with Elizabeth" I look at him.

He puts on a pair of dark glasses before saying "Hold on tight".

"Why leave her with that Elizabeth?" Nam asks.

"Because she is a friend we are like family, she is a demon, besides sunhee if I leave her alone at home she makes disasters, believe me, she has eaten the socket protectors, sometimes I feel like she is immortal" I sigh.

"She's mommy's baby" Jin speaks in a baby tone.

"Obvious" We all laugh

"Ready, here we are" Mr. Lee mentions.

"Thanks, I'll be right back" I get out of the car carrying sunhee.

Knock Knock

The door opens, a guy in pajamas gets out.

"Hey Y/N, long time no see" he greets

"Don't get excited Shiro, I talked to Elizabeth, she's going to do me the favor of watching Sunhee until I get back from paris" I hand him Sunhee's things, and her leash. "You know her schedule, good luck, and don't let her eat socks!" I turn around to run to the car, get in it.

"Ready, let's go" I smile. "I'm going to call my aunt Jessi to let her know, I haven't seen her in a while."

"You become an old lady when you talk to her" Jin laughs.

"Oh come on" Before I dial my aunt, an incoming call from my mom interrupts.

"Hi ma, how's your vacation going?" I ask her.

"Wonderful here in Jeju with Goonie" She says.

"Ugh, too much sugar ma, I'm going to Paris with Jin, and a new friend, I plan to stop by my aunt Jessi's house" She laughs a little bit

"New friend? Who is it?" she speaks in a mocking tone.

"Not like that! it's not my destiny, we've already talked about it" I mumble, watching Jin and Nam talk.

"I know, but I want to see you happy, and I want grandchildren" She speaks excitedly.

"Don't even think, I'm going to cut myself the-" she interrupts me.

"Watch your language, assface" We laugh.

"Here we are" I hear Mr. Lee

"See you later ma, kisses" I hang up to grab my stuff and look for the private jet, Nam's eyes widen like saucers. "I'm humble" We laugh lightly.

Getting on the plane, I almost fall to the ground. I hear the laughter behind me. "How rude not to help a lady" I pout, they look at each other and sit on the plane's couch, putting on seat belts.

"I brought cards" Jin says

"I don't remember the rules well. Namjoon scratches the back of his head.

"You ignore me? fine, I'll go to sleep, please wake me up when we arrive" I go to bed indignant.

"ONE!" shouts Jin

"Man, I'm bad at this" Namjoon sighs.

"It's lack of practice" Jin shrugs his shoulders.

"Fine, I'll show you how to play" I get up from the bed

"Weren't you sleeping?" Jin asks

"I couldn't, give me space". He gives me a space to sit between them. "Thank you."

After 4 rounds in a row, I won.

"NOOO, treacherous" Jin complains.

"I guess I'll win someday" Nam laughs.

"We have arrived at your destination" I hear the voice in the jet, as it slowly lands.

"Let's go!" I get up running excitedly.

"So fast" Nam asks.

I say goodbye to the jet driver to find the chauffeur who will drop us all off at my aunt's house.

"Bonjour, Madame" The chauffeur greets me.

"Bonjour! Take us to my aunt please" I smile, looking around the airport.

"With pleasure, Madame" Smiles the chauffeur.

After 15 minutes we arrive at the house. I knock on the door.

"Girl, long time no see" My aunt hugs me.

"Princess!" My uncle joins us in the hug.

The hug is undone, because my uncles go to greet Jin, Namjoon just looks, I signal him to come in, my uncles look at him.

" this is Namjoon, new friend" Nam bows with a shy smile.

"Welcome to the family, Namjoon" My uncle smiles.

"Thank you" Nam replies shyly

"Well, where is Haerin?" I ask.

"Well, she's coming soon, she said he has a surprise, I guess, do you want coffee?" my aunt asks.

"I do, you know I can't refuse coffee" I smiled.

"Could I make myself a tea?" Jin asked.

"Go ahead dear, I don't know why you don't want coffee" my aunt laughs.

"I do want some" Namjoon mentions.

"Let's settle them upstairs boy" . My uncle lifts my suitcase, Namjoon follows him with the other suitcases in his hands, they lose sight of each other on the stairs.

"So where are you coming from?" uncle asks.

"From the mountains, north side, it was just me and dad" Namjoon mumbles somewhat nostalgically.

"Oh boy, I'm sorry, but look here we always have room for more" tio slipped his arm behind Nam's neck to hug him. Let's go downstairs and then the fire gets cold.

The door opened revealing Haerin with her boyfriend Heechul, they were laughing, until Haerin saw me, she runs to hug me.

"You're choking me, help-" I move into his arms.

"Didn't you miss me? You don't call me" She says in a childish voice"

"Well you don't answer either" I frown.

"We're even" We laugh. "Mom!, Dad, I missed you" she comes over to hug them.

I see Jin with two cups in his hands, he walks over to me, then walks over to Nam to give it to us.

"You didn't pour anything in it, did you?" I ask holding back laughter.

"YAH! Aunt Choi say something to her!" Jin complains.

"You're all grown up kids, anyway, let Haerin tell the news" My aunt smiles, we all take a seat.

"Ready honey?" Haerin asks Heechul who nods. "We're getting married! and there's a surprise coming" this last she mumbles.

"What the-" My uncle turns pale.

"He's getting his blood pressure down" I say running into the living room.

"Congratulations daughter, you know how dramatic your father is" My aunt hugs them.

"Congratulations!" Jin says, elbowing Nam who is concentrating on drinking his coffee.

"Congratulations" Nam mentions

"Well, we should have a party before we go" My aunt mentions, handing a glass of water to my uncle.

"Leave?" asks Jin

"Yes, we are going on a trip" My aunt smiles.

"When?" I ask

"Tomorrow morning" manages to answer my uncle.

"Shall I order food?" asks Haerin

"I can get the drinks" I mention.

"I think there is a store near here" Heechul mentions.

"Well, anyone coming or?" Nam steps forward, we grab our coats to go.

»»————>»»————>»»————>»»————>

Word count: 3.1k

I was a bit sick 😭(I was anxious to upload it), but here it is at last, tell me what do you think, what changes or additions can I make?

my friend is helping me to organize ideas, because I have too many that I-

Thanks for the love you give to the serie, ch 2 on the way chu chu🚂.

I will soon make the masterlist to organize this🍵

All rights reserved to @coffepurpleu

[taegae]

hi I'm a new exol, could you pls explain the feud between sm and exo?

oh? welcome to the fandom, new EXO-L!!!! I was not expecting this question, ngl. I think this is very complex and I'm not the best person to answer it. However, you can still read my big ass ramble (with my weird english):

The history between EXO and SM has years, so there are a lot of moments where we had big problems and rn I can't expose or even remember them all. But it started with their debut. Yes, SM invested a lot in EXO's teasers and all, but it was not well received in korea and EXO were called at that time "SM's biggest mistake". It took a full year for them to have their first comeback with wolf... (and they were the new baby group of the agency). They also had a lot of anti-activity going on (even before they debuted, tbf), and to me SM never did sh*t to help them out . Till today, we still have a big anti EXO activity (including akgaes - they are very bad solo stans lol), but SM apparently doesn't know how to get into action and sue them lmao. We almost need to beg this agency to do something to deal with rumours, protect their artists... (example, if you search on twitter "Chen" "protect" "sm" you can find all you need). Kinda wild .

Not only that, but SM has the tendency to prioritize newer groups, and even when EXO was (or is) the group with most sales, we were having problems with underproduction, zero promotions activities, poor management, etc. SM loves sabotaging them lol.

I trully don't remember a comeback where we were not annoyed by SM's decisions. In 2015, for example, SM could have been smarter with call me baby and promote it more internationally. Spoiler alert: SM didn't do it. But funny enough, SM decided go to the international market with superm in 2019, where kaibaek were exploited and overworked (not saying the others weren't).

Furthermore, we are talking about a big agency who is known for having some problems related to... let's say, problematic contracts. Between 2014 and 2015, 3 chinese members filed a lawsuit against SM to terminate the contract, claimind unfair treatment, lack of support towards their activities and health, unfair payment and discrimination problems. A person could think this was going to be the last situation envolving an lawsuit... yeah, no, we have the most recent problem with CBX.

The CBX vs SM:

https://youtu.be/eFLjrCb5XB8?si=JG0PJgUC8hELIJmU&t=132 or this https://x.com/chanbaekalert/status/1664125854723747840

They "reached" an agreement... https://www.soompi.com/article/1594856wpp/exos-baekhyun-xiumin-and-chen-reach-agreement-with-sm-entertainment-release-joint-statement

But yeah, the story doesn't end there lol: https://www.soompi.com/article/1666874wpp/exos-chen-baekhyun-and-xiumin-to-hold-press-conference-regarding-dispute-with-sm-entertainment

https://www.kpopstarz.com/articles/319944/20240610/sm-denies-exo-cbx-claims-settlement-breach-accuses-trio-distorting-facts.htm

https://www.allkpop.com/article/2024/06/inb100-responds-to-sm-entertainments-statement-regarding-unfair-terms-in-exo-cbx-deal

To understand this last part better: https://x.com/kyoonghrt/status/1801311638772920322

All of this with a lot of SM's media play :) it's really hard to have all the facts and details, and it's really complex when we are talking about contracts, the nature and details of those... so, yeah, we are going bald with all this stress and lack of transparency.

If you want to, you can watch this compilation here of EXO exposing SM (some topics: SM control freak, creating idol personas, greedy, abusing it's power, yeah) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brXrQHKiSik

[izacore]

Of course Anne and Gemma hugging and crying while hearing the song doesn’t mean it’s about Gemma, but added to everything else, it all adds up. And he also didn’t say that ESNY was about Robin, and he was asked about it. And we know it’s about Robin because he alluded to it being about “receiving bad news about a family member” in a secret show (not in an interview). I think he just wanted songs to be relatable to fans, even if they were specific for him. Like, I think SOTT is very obviously about Matt Irwin but Harry didn’t mention it, even though he did talk about Matt other times.

About the stuttering, he was asked if it was about Louis. I don’t personally believe in Larry but I’m neutral on it, I’m not an anti. Whether Larry is real or not, imagine he wrote the song about his sister and is promoting it. And he gets asked if it’s about either his secret boyfriend or an ex bandmate people think is his boyfriend. Of course he’s gonna be taken by surprise and confused. Clearly he wasn’t expecting the question. And he did say “if you hear the lyrics you can tell what it’s about and I would lean towards no.” So in a gentle way being like “this isn’t romantic” (which, again, he said in an interview with USA Today in 2017 as well).

You can obviously think it’s cringe. But to me, Harry writing a sweet song about his sister and her getting emotional over it and his mom loving it so much is super cute. It doesn’t take away anything from anywhere else to me. I think making incest jokes is disrespectful because the song isn’t romantic at all it’s not sexual. It’s just sweet.

Like, even if you do think it’s romantic (I truly don’t see it at all), imagine you’re wrong and despite being so sure of what you believe it turns out it was always about Gemma and you were making incest jokes about them. Won’t you feel kinda bad? How would you feel if someone misinterpreted something you did for a family member as romantic and blamed you for it and said you’re a weirdo and creepy and made incest jokes?

Sometimes this fandom can lack so much empathy. We forget that the boys aren’t our friends and they’re people with feelings and thought processes that are completely separate to ours.

Why do you guys insist that the song being romantic would mean it's sexual when one automatically doesn't warrant the other lmao you can be romantic without commiting a sexual act, so this reasoning doesn't speak to me at all.

For me taking everything into consideration adds up to it being about Louis so we could have this conversation forever. I just don't understand why you all aren't so hell-bent on making other songs that use similar lyricism about Gemma? Sunflower? Kids in the kitchen - obviously about them playing during their childhood. Canyon Moon? Going back to his family home, since Gemma brings him home. We can go on and on, but in my opinion context matters 💁🏼‍♀️ Nothing was stopping Harry from simply laughing it off when asked the question in the interview. Also no, I wouldn't feel bad cause like you said, those people are not my friends, I don't know them, will never meet or talk to them so I can laugh about a situation where everyone is denying reality to prove that Harry Styles did not write a love song for his sister.

[sainte666]

I had the most overstimulating / frustrating dentist’s appointment this morning.. it was like torture because I had to put a tight ass mouthguard in that was really hard to take out, awkwardly return my 2 week old broken retainer and be told I have a weird bite (duh. oh my god it isn’t like they didn’t know this!) and they made me watch a 90s homophobic joke on TV too 😭 (more below if you want the full story! I had a lot to say)

Ok so for context, I am stoned writing this & I have fucked up teeth due to Everything (eating disorder behaviors + childhood trauma and autism and having oral fixations and being sick due to a kinda anti vax mom etc etc are very bad for you lmaoooo)

I have broken 2 retainers 1 mouth guard (and am now being told to not wear the retainer at night and basically wear it during the day ig)

Today I pick up my new mouthguard and hand them broken retainer #2 which is humiliating since I broke it like within 2 weeks of receiving it

The shitty large corporation dentist’s office is always playing videos and music and shit all at the same time, way too overstimulating, and I ended up being witness to this old Fresh Prince episode with a homophobic joke 😭 It was when Will Smith’s character tries to get the butler a girlfriend for his birthday and he literally delivered the joke about assuming too much and took his hands away dramatically which has aged VERY poorly! (was bad to begin with lmao)

And then I had to try this very tight fitting mouthguard, with my dirty outside hands because they make you do it.. but don’t have me wash my hands which is disgusting but I just do it because they expect me to 😭😭😭😭😭😭 And then as she was talking about fixing my broken retainer, I was desperately trying to get the stupid mouthguard out so I could answer her and it was SO hard to take off my teeth 🤪 Probs because of my broken appliances that they told me to keep using bc it’s that or my teeth 🙃

Anyway I managed to get it off and was like hey this was really snug and hard to remove, was I doing it wrong?? and got a kind of non answer and a brief visual demonstration. Lmao… and I was trying to practice putting it on / taking it out and acclimate my teeth to an old ish scan, and at one point just couldn’t get it to go back on my teeth. So I am not very excited to try it tonight but if I can get it to stay, I think this one might work. But my teeth are going to be SO sensitive for the next month FML

THE GOOD NEWS THO! 😇

My old dentist (who unforch worked for the old guy who owned the practice and for some reason he sold out to a corporation instead of idk… letting HER take the company???) made her own practice and it’s finally open to the public 😎 I am one of her first patients I think lmao

Dr C…. please for the love of god you gotta help my deteriorating mouth 😭 I see a future with adult braces and probably mouth PT lol

[skinnymeanfaggot]

In the Ramstar story how is StarClan received? Both by ram's old clan and his new group, and how does StarClan view Ramstar? If Starland is a thing in this version of course LMAO

i like to be silly and make my stories take place in the same universe, so because this happens at the same time but different area as fading starlight, there is no starclan present. basically the idea is when thunderclan left the forest and dissolves some cats went to different cities and told others about clans, and they went "hey i wanna do that!" so theres brand new clans popping up all over the world. starclan as an idea is probably introduced but kinda swept under the rug.

if starclan DID exist they would be very conflicted. i think because they have a tendency to not interfere in canon they would probably not interfere with his abuse and then when he gets his clanmates killed, goes "murder bad youre going to hell" about it. its like a brokenkit situation where like some interference could really have prevented everything from happening but starclan acting passive basically lead ramstar to where he is today. if they existed for those clans. also currently ramstars plans are to destroy all the clans forever which starclan isnt happy about so they probably hate him

[cookinguptales]

Hi, if you have the time and are not too overwhelmed with the amount of requests you have received thus far, I would love a reading 😊💖 I haven't had one in years since I had lost touch with my spiritual side. If not, that's alright 💕

It's all good! I am slowly but surely making my way through the last few. I'm lazy today. *rolls around in bed*

And I've never had much of a spiritual side, so you're in good hands here. lmao

(The Empress, The Hermit, Death)

don't panic

Let me be perfectly clear -- Death does not need to be a scary card. Like my dear Uncle Deadly, it looks a lot scarier than it is. Death is a card of transformation. In the simplest and most poetic terms, something in your life needs to die to make room for something new. Think leaves on a tree. Those leaves need to die, but the tree itself will be just fine. Spring will come and new leaves will take their place. And in fact -- it can be dangerous for a tree not to shed its leaves. If they hold onto their leaves for too long, the winter can cause serious damage. So, like a tree, you need to grow and change lest your old leaves start to hurt you.

I think... given the other two cards, like that tree, you might need a period to be dormant. The Hermit is a card that calls for you to turn inward and reevaluate what you want and need in life. It's a time for contemplation and consideration. You should check in with yourself and your needs and not allow yourself to be swayed by what others think -- at least right now. Maybe this time of transformation will be a good chance for you to think about what you need right now and pivot to face those options more clearly.

Finally, The Empress is a very nurturing, bountiful, patient, staid card. This card is stability and it's wisdom. It's associated with nature and childbirth -- so, in other words, new life. I don't think this necessarily needs to be literal, though it can be. The bounty that The Empress carries can be one that you create or one that you claim. You can create a new life or you can just make up your mind to live one. Just be kind to yourself and to others, and nurture the parts of you that need nurturing as you do it.

I think all in all, this reading really indicates a change coming in your life, but not at all a bad one. You'll be given the chance to transform into something that befits the life you're living right now, and you'll have the chance to shuck off the mindset that is no longer serving you. Just approach this situation with patience, mindfulness, and determination, and you'll be okay. 💜

[purplesurveys]

1790

Is there a gang problem in your area? Not that I know of. If there were any it would be super underground.

Do you make your Starbucks order more complicated if it isn't busy? No. The extent to which you could customize your drinks at that place scares and overwhelms me, lmao. I've always just gotten whatever's on the menu.

Do you consider airports to be emotional places? Yes, I've always held a quiet resentment towards airports because sending off my dad, who works abroad, has been a regular occurence in my life since I was 2. I've never felt nice in them, even when I'm already the one traveling, because the bitter goodbyes are all I remember.

Where do you need to be? Nooooooooooofuckingwhere. I'm happy to be home and holed up in my room. I've been out all week for Christmas parties and errands.

Would you date an already attached person? No.

When you marry, will you wear white? Yeah, assuming that happens to me.

What vaccine that you've received hurt the most? All injections hurt the same to me – it's the side effects that vary. So far the Covid vaccines and boosters have sucked the most.

Do you ever feel like you're being watched? I mean sure, but it's never been like a stalker-type situation. It's fairly easy to find myself in situations where I'm watched, like when I'm presenting a Powerpoint to a whole room.

What will it take to make or break this day for you? My day's already made because I got a box of macarons from a frequent work supplier today. As far as break, idk. There's loads of bad news I could possibly get.

Would you give up a dream for someone you loved? I was willing to in the past, and looking deep down I don't think that has changed. I love deeply. I can always find ways to make the most out of life, and I think the only time I would back out is if our values or directions in life are entirely different and stand no chance of being reconciled in any shape or form whatsoever.

Could you date someone who's only been your friend for a long time? I did. Prior friendships are what I prefer in relationships too.

Do you prefer to date various people or do you pretty much fall into monogamous relationships quickly? I've only ever been in a monogamous relationship. It's what I prefer as a setup, but generally I don't date anymore.

Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? It's not that I'm afraid. I'm just not interested.

Do you think it's better to look for love or let it find you? I let things happen naturally.

Have you ever found yourself worrying about commitment? Never been a problem for me.

Would you get involved with someone if they had a child already? Preferably not but if I'm really into the person, I think it's something I'm willing to try. I'm nowhere near ready to be a stepmom, but no one ever really is.

Have you ever learned an important lesson as a result of a break up? Yeah. I think that's part of the role of breakups...

Have you ever gotten back in touch with an old flame after a time of more than three months of no communication? Nopes, it was more the opposite for me. I kept in touch for the next three months thinking things had a chance of changing, then realized how unhealthy it was for me so I promptly cut off all lines of communication with them when the new year rolled in.

Do you or would you ever wear fake eyelashes? I did just once, realized how much I hated being made up like that, removed them before the event was even over, and never wore them again.

Do you think that smaller breeds of dogs are cuter than big ones? I like all dogs but I will say I like bigger dogs a teeny weeny bit more.

When was the last time you slept in a tent? Two years ago.

What brand of make-up do you prefer to use? I don't follow makeup brands.

Do you have any siblings and if so, what're they like? Nina is very independent, naturally defensive (almost to a fault), but also sensitive. We all kind of tiptoe around her since she can cry about anything. She's incredibly artistic and resourceful and is reliable in many situations. I don't know much about my brother apart from him liking K-pop girl groups and having a sharp memory. He doesn't show much of a personality beyond those two things.

What was the last television show that you sat and watched multiple episodes of? Gyeongsong Creature.

Is there anything significant happening this month? It's Bea's last working day on the 31st and after that I'll be pretty much left to my own devices with an entire team to run.

When was the last time you plucked your eyebrows? I don't do that.

Do you have any chronic pain? No.

When was the last time you had a Poptart? Either a year or two ago. Can't remember. I don't have them often.

Do you like hot chocolate? Not in general. There's only one variant of hot chocolate I'd get on the regular, and that's a local restaurant's San Gines hot chocolate.

Who is your best guy friend? Hans, if any.

What’s your favorite Michael Jackson song? Either Smooth Criminal or Bad.

Where did you buy your favorite pair of jeans from? I don't even remember. I've had it for so long as my fave and I refuse to throw it out hahaha. Maybe at an ukay?

When was the last time you got your hair done professionally? A couple of months ago when I got another dye job.

Do you like TGI Fridays? I think it's extremely overpriced and that automatically makes me not a fan. Why pay triple the price for a plate of wings?

Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? Nope, I just shave them.

Have you ever read anything by Edgar Allen Poe? I don't think I have.

When was the last time it rained where you live? Last night the rain was pretty strong! I think we have a typhoon.

Do you like horses? They're okay, but I'm not attached to them like some people would be.

What are your grandfathers’ names? I'll only share their nicknames, which are Jun and Boy.

Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Yes. I've held one.

Do you know anyone that has been held hostage before? Only by association, but my sister's boss from when she was interning.

[woofwoof-bitch]

Gotta call and schedule an appointment tmrw so I can refill my meds and adjust them. Not the amount, just how it's split up (twice a day to three times a day, from a 25 & 20 to three 15's).

I ordered chinese food despite us having decent food in the house last I checked (last night), but it was taco stuff and tbh I just really wanted general tsos chicken fight me. (Also there are 4-6 other people in this house besides me at any given moment so my confidence in there still being taco stuff is like 0.5 % )

Thursday I start training a new guy at work, the cousin of my LAST trainee. From what he's told me they're both very similar and besties so we should get along pretty well since my last trainee was one of the coolest people I know lmao. Also the queer bakery strikes again, most of the bakers I work with are some flavor of queer. There is a baguette joke I made. I'm allowed to say it cause i'm also a gay baker man but I will not type it, you'll just have to think on it. It was well received LMAO.

My boss texted if I wanted more hours today and alas. I Was Asleep. One day she'll catch me when i'm awake and can accept, i'm always happy to get more hours I want money so I can get tf outta this place. But oh well, I didn't wake up til almost 6 hours after her text.

My face is breaking out really badly and it's peeling and cracking and it hurts sosososo bad, I might ask my dr about what she thinks I should do. I have an acid face wash I use before bed, and then I found a lotion i'm only slightly sort of allergic to that I put on before work most days (if I remember, i'm getting better at that) because I work with a walk-in oven for 8 hours so it dries my skin. It HELPS but now i'm getting infected little bumps that once they're gone that entire area turns into hard itchy painful skin that peels and bleeds. Very bad very unpleasant.

Also I want a bluesky code weh nobody has one I can swipe in my circle.

[alexanderflowerbird]

DAY 13

Ya know today I don't really have much to report! It was a busy day, I had a lot to do at work [It's poinsettia season already, which makes me wanna die lol, last year it was so frustrating I had bad dreams about poinsettias and SEVERAL panic attacks and melt downs], I took my mom to the doctor and then we had Jack in the Box together, and then I watched the new episodes of Arcane with my husband. An alright day, all told. I'm... so tired. I would have more to say probably, but my brain longs for sleep, especially now that it's winter and even though it's only 7:30 I feel like I'm up very late and deserve to lay down lmao. I do have an excerpt for you though! I got up very early this morning and wrote a whole 1500+ words. Somethin' about sitting down with my morning coffee to work gets the words right outta me. I'm gonna give you an excerpt from New Faith though; we've been in Blood Sun Territory a bunch for this challenge, I think my other story deserves its flowers, even though I've been at a little bit of a stand still with it. I think I'll give you a nice long excerpt from Chapter 7 in which Mercutio has just received the news that another man in town, a local gay man who had fancied Mercutio for a long time, has died in a horrific way after he'd attacked Mercutio at his job in the throes of being possessed. Poor Dorrance Crawford, he was the first of many, and his death is really very sad, because he feels guilty for what he's done, not really knowing that what compelled him to attack Mercutio was a demon trying to take over his body and become him. A local cop has an inkling that Mercutio knows more than he's letting on and Mercutio, being the chaos goblin he is, decides fuck it, and tells him about demons. TW for gore, death, possession Taglist: @theskeletonprior @thelittlestspider @tragedycoded @badscientist If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please interact with this post

Mercutio understands now and he hopes to a God he doesn’t believe in that he’s wrong. Dorrance’s death puts everything into focus and while Deputy Thompson has brought this information to him in an attempt to interrogate him for responsibility, it seems through the conversation that he’s come past his suspicions towards Mercutio and is now just trying to understand. Poor man, he’s never going to get it unless someone tells him and even then, even if Mercutio told him all that he knows, what this really is, what it looks like now with Dorrance’s death to consider, he’d probably still be completely in the dark about how much danger they’re in. Mercutio almost wants to tell him, because answering his questions at this point feels like a waste of time for both of them. 

According to Deputy Thompson, Dorrance Crawford was returned home with his belongings and a stern talking to about staying away from Mercutio. He’d been quiet and desolate as he stood before his house, looking ‘green around the gills’, as told by the officer who’d dropped him off, but otherwise somber and cowed by his time in lock up. The officer who had driven him home had admitted to giving him a speech about how it’s not such a big deal to be gay, just not to be perverted about it. The officer in question had clearly worried he’d be implicated in causing Dorrance’s death, pushing him past his limits, but Mercutio can tell based on Thompson’s retelling of those events that no one intends to take this idiot to task for lecturing Dorrance on something so deeply personal as his now exposed sexual orientation. The speech, the drop off, the way Dorrance skulked sadly into his home…That all didn’t seem out of the ordinary, wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary, but his death was very unusual for how he’d been left and how he’d acted when they’d given him back his phone and wallet and carted him home. 

Dorrance Crawford had disemboweled himself. He’d left a note, implicating his actions as intentional, but even with a pistol in the house and plenty of rope out in his garden shed, he’d chosen this incredibly gruesome way to die and had only been discovered with any sort of immediacy because he’d done it out in his garden and had been wailing like a dying animal, sobbing and screaming at the sky loud enough for someone several blocks down to feel it warranted a visit from the police. By the time they’d arrived, there was no point in an ambulance or to try and resuscitate him. That had less to do with him pulling his intestines out and more to do with the state of his innards, the black, sticky rot of them, the stench that radiated from the wound like he’d been dead all this time and only his yellowing, sickly skin had kept the fact hidden away. Mercutio can imagine it, these poor schmucks that spend their time breaking up bar fights and handing out speeding tickets gagging and teary eyed over the scent that comes off a person that’s possessed, especially when their damaged insides are exposed to the air. 

He can imagine Dorrance Crawford in his mind, dead and emptied out among his gardenias and calla lilies. He’d gone out into his garden, according to his note, because it was as close to God as he could possibly be now and that was where it would be safest for his soul. His soul, being torn assunder by something that apparently hadn’t released him after the attack but had instead given him a torturous moment of reprieve so he could soak in the guilt of the actions he’d taken completely without his consent. That’s the most “normal” demon thing that’s happened in what Deputy Thompson has described to him. It is, in the loosest, darkest terms, a miracle that Dorrance was able to take his own life in the first place when a demon occupied his body. That he managed to kill himself when in any other instance of possession he would’ve fought for the chance to, harmed himself, and been left with grievous injuries and sickness while still alive and possessed is a mystery that Mercutio can’t suss out. Perhaps the possession wasn’t at its height or there was something unique about Dorrance Crawford, but Mercutio doubts he’ll find an answer to that when faced with Deputy Thompson’s retelling, utterly devoid of understanding as to what he saw, what Dorrance meant in his note, why any of this is happening in their quiet little town. 

“His note was mostly about you, about apologizing to you for what he did and not being braver about his interest in you. But as I’ve told you, some of this doesn’t make any sense to me. ‘They want to be us’? ‘They want our world?’ Do you know who ‘They’ is?” Mercutio stares down at the blank page he’s flipped to in the officer’s notebook. Should he just write it? Just write those stupid six letters that will make this a much longer conversation but will be the truth? Why, Deputy Thompson I know you probably think this is some sort of insane declaration against the rampant homophobia of small town suburbia, but it’s actually demons? Mercutio shouldn’t laugh, there’s nothing funny about this, but the sardonic amusement of imagining such a thing sits right behind his lips. “Mercutio?” Thompson presses and he looks at the officer then before shaking his head. He writes six other letters that form a complete and total lie. 

  No Idea. 

Thompson openly expresses his exasperation before saying, “If you won’t tell me what you know here just between us, I’ll have to take you down to the sheriff's office to get into it on tape. Is that what you want?” He asks like he’s trying to be accommodating and helpful and Mercutio can tell he feels sincerely about that. He’s not stupid, and he knows something strange is going on here. Why Thomspon would want to get his hands on it before involving his force is beyond Mercutio, but he’s clearly made this decision to come talk all on his own, to read into an open and close suicide because he’s got that silly, classic cop hunch about it. It would be silly if he was wrong, it’s classic because he’s right on the money, even in deciding to talk to Mercutio about it first before anyone else.

“I can tell you know what this means, Mercutio. It’s written all over your face that you get this in a way that you’re not saying. You could just tell me, and I’ll take care of the rest, leave you out of it, but if you’re just going to keep me in the dark I don’t have a lot of options that don’t involve you being in the middle of a pretty serious investigation. This man cut out his own guts over you, doesn’t that make you feel like you should be honest?” That’s crude, and unfair, but Mercutio doesn’t balk at the question. Vincente could get under his skin with such a thing, but this beat cop doesn’t have hooks in his heart to tug on. As sad as Dorrance Crawford’s death is, Mercutio has seen so much sad, unnecessary death in his life it feels like a ripple more than anything else, like a quiver that warns of an oncoming earthquake. Mercutio turns to a new page in the notebook and writes, staring at his own words before tapping the pen lightly against it, considering revealing what he’s said which is utterly cliche it borders on gauche. Fuck it. 

You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.

Thompson’s icy eyes go between the page and Mercutio’s face a few times before he answers in a matching cliche. “Try me.”

Most of the research that’s been done is at Vincente’s house. All of it is proof enough to possibly put a dent in a regular citizen’s certainty that demon possession is an impossible option for all of this, even perhaps a police officer who thinks he’s about to unspool some very normal, very human issue. Mercutio recognizes even that he could be wrong too, that it could just be a regular old every day possession that plagued Dorrance Crawford, but he doubts it, so he writes down the locations of the related massacres, able to list them off by heart by now. He shows the list to Thompson, waiting for him to read and register the town names before writing underneath the list and circling it in a symbolic show of ‘here it is, the answer’. Thompson reads it aloud incredulously. 

“Demon possession?” Mercutio nods, and is surprised that Thomspon is silent as he writes on a new page rather than sputtering through how that’s ridiculous and impossible. This will likely be a mistake, especially when there’s nothing police can do about what’s going on. He’ll open a dark, ugly door in Derek Thompson’s life that will never, ever be shut again if the officer is convinced by what he has to say, but Mercutio doesn’t have time for this roundabout with a cop that can find him at his job or his home, that will chase him with inane questions while he and Vincente are trying to save the lives and souls of the people here, Thompson’s included. 

Dorrance was possessed. Remained possessed after he attacked me. Killed himself to release himself from the possession. Each of these towns have strange events associated with them, most likely possessions. Don’t ask me for the long story of how I know about this sort of thing. Old job. Bla bla. 

Thompson’s dark brows knit tight together and his mouth turns down in a frown as he squints through what Mercutio has written. “So he was possessed because of you?” Thompson asks, and Mercutio rolls his eyes at the suggestion. 

No. Just possessed. He attacked me out of association, demons do that. Attack people who are closest to you to scare them and keep them away. To fuck you up over harming the people you love. Read a book, watch a movie. Literally this is elementary.

Mercutio knows the sass is a little uncalled for. This isn’t elementary at all for someone who’s probably gone to church his whole life as a performative act and has, not even once in his life, seen anything truly beyond the pale. People call all sorts of things miracles or wickedness, but Mercutio knows from experience that the people who bark the loudest about such supernatural forces tend to be the most likely to believe absolutely none of it and are more interested in convincing others to believe such forces are at work in their boring, normal, painful lives. He’s mostly annoyed now to be explaining this to someone who can’t pick up the plot immediately, who will likely have a myriad of stupid questions about this before they get to the meat of what happened to Dorrance. The stupid questions at least come in quick succession and with a tone and intensity that suggests that Deputy Thompson is buying what he’s selling. 

“That’s why he said those things, about his soul?”

Yep.

“And is there any truth in that, that his soul was saved?” No idea, too philosophical.

“What does his death have to do with your list of towns?”

Similar events, but if I’m right, it’s just beginning here. “Just beginning in what way?”

Mass possession. Very weird shit, still not sure how it happens. “So it’s just a theory for now, that Dorrance’s suicide is symptomatic of this… Mass possession you’re talking about.”

Yeah basically. 

“When he said… they want to be us, they want our world… he’s talking about demons, in the note?”

Most likely. The other towns and deaths suggest something different from the usual demon possession schtick. Different goal. 

“And I’m guessing demons have the goals that church tells us they have?” For the most part. Corruption, death, despair. Bla bla. This is different though. 

“You know this sounds completely insane, don’t you?”

And back to cliches. Mercutio sighs at Thomspon and isn’t surprised when the officer reacts like he’s being unreasonable to be exasperated. Perhaps he is, when most of his career was spent interacting with people who knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what was happening to them or their loved ones was something beyond normal sickness. Every client he and Vincente had ever taken on had called upon them in desperation, completely aware of their circumstances and certain in a way someone like Derek Thompson can’t fathom because he’s never been so close to such darkness, never had it touch his life directly and snuff out any possibility of doubt. But the question gives Mercutio a way out of this conversation and a means with which to send Thompson on the hunt he’s craving, so he flips to a new page and writes, 

You don’t have to take my word for it. Look it up and come back and tell me it looks normal to you.