#*sips drink and stares off into th distance*

[quinn-pop]

hey wouldn’t it be funny if Susie made a robot to hold onto her memories for her. cause. cause yeah. okay bye

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let's Play Pretend - 1 | Bucky

Character: Bucky Barnes x singer! Female reader

Summary: You just wanted to hide here and find peace from the mess that wasn’t caused by you. But then, your hot neighbor bothered you. As if that wasn’t enough, the enemies you hated found you too.

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 ,-

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By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband on Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Shocking Split! Y/N L/N Dumps Fiancé After Drug Party Scandal

Betrayal Drama! Y/N L/N’s Manager Caught Stealing Millions for Gambling

Where’s Y/N? The Singer Vanishes Amid Scandals!

“I’ve always wanted to be a singer, but I never had the confidence to stand on a stage—until my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She believed in me.”

Mrs. Walls sighed as she watched your Grammy interview on TV. You looked radiant, glowing with excitement after winning such a prestigious award. As a music teacher with years of experience, she had worked with many talented students, but you stood out uniquely.

At first, you were the shyest student in her class, hardly speaking above a whisper. But what surprised her the most was your natural gift: a perfect pitch. You could write down the notes to a song after hearing it just once, and you picked up musical instruments with ease. She vividly remembered showing you basic piano chords; within minutes, you were playing along effortlessly. The same thing happened when she introduced the guitar.

Her fondest memories were of you standing shyly at the front of the class, yet lighting up when it came to music. She smiled as she recalled your speeches at award shows: “I wouldn’t be here without my music teacher, Mrs. Walls. She was the first person who put faith in me.”

“That’s the last interview she gave us,” the gossip channel host said dramatically, feigning concern. “It’s been three months since anyone’s seen her. Where is Y/N L/N?”

Mrs. Walls frowned and turned off the TV with an annoyed grunt. “Urgh. Gossip vultures,” she muttered under her breath. She grabbed a glass of lemonade from the fridge and walked out to her garden. She noticed her guest seemed lost in thought, staring off into the distance. It had become a habit whenever she was in the garden.

“You’re not thirsty, huh?” she teased lightly, holding the glass toward someone sitting under the garden umbrella.

The person she handed the drink to was none other than the missing singer, Y/N L/N. For three months, the paparazzi had been on your trail, but they had no idea you were hiding here—in the sanctuary of your former music teacher’s home.

Mrs. Walls still remembered the night you appeared on her doorstep, mascara streaked down your face, eyes red and swollen from crying. You looked nothing like the glamorous star she’d seen on television, but instead like a lost child searching for safety.

“I don’t know where else to go,” you had whispered, your voice trembling.

In that moment, she didn’t see the world-renowned singer. She saw the shy, seven-year-old girl who used to sit in her classroom, clutching her music notebook like a lifeline. She hugged you tightly, her heart breaking for you. “Stay as long as you need, my dear,” she had said softly, ushering you inside.

Since that night, you’d been living quietly in her guest room. The once-vibrant star barely spoke, and the silence worried Mrs. Walls more than she let on. She watched as you avoided stepping outside, terrified of being recognized. The only place you seemed at peace was her garden.

She wondered, How long will you keep hiding like this?

You took the lemonade from her hand with a quiet “Thank you” but set it on the small table beside you without taking a sip. Sitting on the bench, you leaned back, tilting your face up toward the sky. The sun was warm, filtering through the leaves of the garden trees. Through your Ray-Ban sunglasses, you watched the golden rays dance, letting them calm your stormy thoughts.

Here, in this little haven, you could pretend the outside world didn’t exist. The judging eyes, the betrayals, the relentless cameras—everything melted away in the sunlight.

You thought back to three months ago, just after wrapping up your world tour. It had been the most significant milestone in your career, a dream come true. Exhausted but proud, you returned home, excited to move on to the next chapter of your life—starting a family with your fiancé.

But the moment you landed, things began to unravel. You’d called your fiancé multiple times, but he didn’t answer. At first, you thought he was busy, but a nagging feeling in your chest wouldn’t go away.

When the truth finally came out, it shattered you. Your assistant broke the news: your fiancé had been busted at a drug-fueled party. Worse, it was also a sex party.

You felt your chest tighten at the memory. That betrayal had cut deep. But it wasn’t the only one.

Later that week, you discovered that your longtime manager, someone you trusted implicitly, had embezzled your money to feed a gambling addiction. Two people you thought you could rely on had betrayed you in the worst ways possible.

One night, overwhelmed and broken, you drove aimlessly, tears blurring your vision. Without any plan or destination, you just kept going until you found yourself parked outside Mrs. Walls’ familiar home.

Even after all these years, she had always been honest with you. When you needed guidance, she gave it without hesitation. If she thought something was right, she’d say, “Go for it, my dear.” If it wasn’t, she’d warn, “No. You deserve better.”

Now, sitting in her garden, you sighed and closed your eyes, letting the sunlight warm your face. For a moment, you could almost believe you were that shy student again before fame and heartbreak had found you.

Mrs. Walls watched you silently, her heart heavy. She wanted to help, but she knew you needed to find your way back on your own.

“How long are you planning to hide here?” she finally asked, her voice gentle but firm.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you opened your eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Just like this, Mrs. Walls worried about you. You knew you were taking advantage of her kindness, aware she wanted you to step out of your shell, but you weren’t ready. The thought of facing the questions, the prying eyes, and the silent judgment was too much.

Just a little more time, you thought. That’s all I need. And some peace.

But peace wasn’t always easy to come by.

"VROOM!"

A sudden loud roar shattered the tranquility of the garden. The grating sound of a lawn mower filled the air, making you wince. You covered your ears, irritation flashing across your face.

Your gaze turns toward the source of the noise. “It’s already noon. The sun’s scorching hot—what kind of madman decides this is the best time to mow their lawn?”

“Well…” Mrs. Walls trailed off, watching the man seated atop the lawn mower. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

It's her neighbor, a man who had recently moved in. He wasn’t just any neighbor—he was one of her former students. Not from her music classes, though. He’d been one of the troublemakers, a kid who lived on detention slips and second chances.

“Bucky!” she called out, her voice carrying across the garden.

The man paused, cutting the engine. The deafening noise stopped, leaving an almost eerie silence in its wake. He climbed off the lawn mower, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

You squinted, ready to roll your eyes, but then your gaze lingered for a moment longer than you wanted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his broad chest glistened with sweat. The sun highlighted the sculpted lines of his six-pack, and every step he took radiated an infuriating confidence.

Great, you thought bitterly. Annoying and ridiculously good-looking. Just my luck.

Mrs. Walls met him halfway, handing him a glass of lemonade. “Thank you,” Bucky said, his voice low and smooth.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes. “You’re welcome for the noise pollution,” you muttered loud enough for him to hear.

He turned, raising an eyebrow at you. “You’re welcome for cutting the grass, princess.”

“Princess?” you repeated, your tone sharp. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re out here ruining everyone’s peace, and I’m the problem?”

He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest, the gesture only drawing more attention to his muscles. “Stop acting like a diva.”

Your jaw dropped. “I am a diva!”

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, taking a long sip of lemonade.

“What rock have you been living under?” you snapped, glaring at him.

He rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression shifting to one of mild exasperation. What you didn’t know was that Bucky wasn’t as clueless as he seemed. For the past three years, he’d been living under the radar, cutting ties with his old life. His job had demanded secrecy, isolation, and sacrifice. He didn’t have the luxury of keeping up with the world, let alone pop culture or celebrity news.

The truth was, he hadn’t recognized you—not as the world-famous singer everyone else seemed to adore. To him, you were just the frustrating woman who had suddenly appeared in Mrs. Walls’ house and made everything more complicated.

But even as irritation bubbled under his skin, he couldn’t help but feel intrigued. There was a fire in you that clashed with his rough edges, and it both annoyed and fascinated him.

For Bucky, Mrs. Walls had always been a comforting presence—a grandmother figure who offered him advice and a safe space to talk. Her home had become a haven. And then you showed up.

Now, that peace was gone, replaced with constant banter and an energy that made it hard for him to stay indifferent.

Mrs. Walls watched the two of you, her lips twitching as if suppressing a smile. Despite your usual quiet demeanor, you seemed to come alive whenever Bucky was around.

“You two are like a pair of bickering children,” she muttered under her breath.

“Excuse me?” you said, shooting her a look.

“Nothing, dear,” she replied with a knowing smile, sipping her lemonade.

Bucky glanced at you, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who wants peace and quiet, you sure have a lot to say.”

“And for someone who wants to mow the lawn, you sure talk a lot for no reason,” you shot back, folding your arms.

Bucky laughed, low and mocking. “This is going to be fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe,” you muttered, turning your attention back to the garden, though your face was still flushed from the exchange.

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but glance at his retreating figure, hating how effortlessly confident he looked. Bucky, meanwhile, shook his head, pretending not to notice you watching him.

Both of you were equally exasperated—and similarly intrigued.

Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between two fingers with a smug grin. “Alright, princess, let’s make a deal. If it lands heads, I’ll keep mowing. If it’s tails, I’ll stop, and you can go back to your precious nap.”

You crossed your arms tightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate this game,” you muttered, watching as the coin gleamed in the sunlight. He always did this—turning everything into some sort of challenge just to get under your skin.

Bucky smirked, clearly enjoying your irritation. “I know. That’s why it’s so much fun.”

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “Tails.”

He nodded mock-seriously, flicking the coin into the air with practiced ease. It spun rapidly, catching the light with every turn before landing in his palm. He slapped it onto the back of his hand, then slowly revealed the result with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Heads,” he declared, his voice full of triumph.

“Ugh!” You threw your hands in the air, frustrated, pushing off the bench. As you stomped toward the house, the wooden slats creaked behind you, muttering, “I’m getting noise-canceling headphones.”

Mrs. Walls watched you retreat inside, shaking her head with a fond smile. She turned to Bucky, who was spinning the coin between his fingers like a magician showing off his trick.

“You really should stop teasing her,” Mrs. Walls said gently, her tone a mix of reproach and amusement.

Bucky shrugged, slipping the coin back into his pocket. His lips curled into a devilish grin. “Nah… it’s fun.”

🌷🌷🌷🌷

You peeked through the blinds, trying not to let the soft rustle of the fabric give you away. Outside, Bucky was still chatting casually with Mrs. Walls. He leaned against the handle of the lawn mower, his broad shoulders relaxed, and his expression unusually serene.

How could he be so normal and polite with her, yet every time he spoke to you, it felt like he lived to make you grit your teeth?

You narrowed your eyes, watching him laugh at something Mrs. Walls said. That face… you thought bitterly. What a waste of a perfectly good jawline and those stupid dimples.

Letting the blinds fall back into place with a soft snap, you turned away and headed to your room.

Inside, the space was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the glaring afternoon sun. The cool, muted light was a welcome contrast to the irritation buzzing in your head. You kicked off your slippers with a little more force than necessary and flopped onto the bed, burying your face in the pillows.

The mattress was soft, and the faint scent of lavender from the room’s diffuser helped ease the tension in your shoulders. But even as you lay there, trying to block out the world, your mind kept drifting back to the smug grin on Bucky’s face and the way he seemed to revel in riling you up.

“Urgh,” you groaned, rolling onto your side and hugging the pillow close. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to forget about him.

Eventually, the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the distant chirping of birds outside began to lull you into a state of calm. Your breathing slowed, and your grip on the pillow loosened. For now, rest was the only thing you wanted—a reprieve from the relentless antics of your maddeningly handsome neighbor.

🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

The dream came fast and vivid, like a storm. You were running—barefoot, your breath ragged and your heart pounding in your chest. Behind you, shadowy figures loomed, their voices sharp and cruel. The flash of cameras blinded you, their light like fire against your skin. You kept running, your legs aching, but the ground felt like quicksand, pulling you down.

You jolted awake, gasping for air. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as your heart raced, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to your mind. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, you saw the dim, glowing numbers: 2:00 a.m.

Sleep felt impossible now. The stillness of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. You swung your legs off the bed and walked to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, brushing against your flushed skin and carrying the faint scent of dew and earth.

“Should I go out?” you murmured to yourself. It was late—no, it was early—and the world outside was likely asleep. It might be safe.

Pulling on a hoodie and sweatpants, you crept quietly through the house. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet made your pulse spike, but you pressed on, determined. When you reached the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the doorknob.

Flashes of the past flooded your mind—the crowd of paparazzi outside your apartment, shouting your name, their cameras clicking incessantly, their relentless pursuit. You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep breath.

“It’s different here,” you whispered, willing yourself to believe it. Slowly, you pushed the door open and stepped outside.

The cool grass greeted your bare feet as you stepped off the porch, the gentle night breeze brushing against your face. There was no one. No voices. No flashing lights. Just silence and the soft rustling of leaves in the dark.

You exhaled deeply, relief washing over you like a wave. One tentative step after another, you left the house, the distance growing between you and your sanctuary.

You wandered toward the park, the faint glow of streetlights guiding your way. The world felt peaceful, and for the first time in months, so did you—until the faint hum of an engine broke the stillness.

You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. A car was following you, its headlights low but its presence unmistakable. Then you saw it—a glint of metal, the unmistakable outline of a camera lens.

Shit. They’d found you.

Your heart pounded as the car crept closer. Picking up your pace, you started walking faster, then broke into a run.

��Y/N! Where have you been?” a voice called out from the car, loud and intrusive.

You didn’t answer, your breath quickening as you pushed yourself to move faster.

“Have you heard your ex-fiancé has rekindled things with his ex?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. What? Your mind reeled. You hadn’t even ended things officially, and he’d already moved on? That bastard. While you were here, broken and dealing with trauma, he was playing house?

“Is it true you gave money to your manager, knowing about his gambling addiction?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, glaring at the man hanging out of the car window. “No! I didn’t know! Leave me alone, you jerk!”

You started running again, your breath burning in your lungs, your legs aching. Desperation clawed at you as the car followed relentlessly. Then you saw him—a familiar figure jogging under the streetlights.

“It can’t be,” you whispered.

Without thinking, you sprinted toward him, your voice frantic. “Bucky! Help me!”

Bucky stopped mid-stride, his brows furrowed as he saw you running toward him. His routine early-morning jog had just turned unusual. His sharp eyes quickly took in the distress written all over your face. Before he could react, you leaped behind him, clutching the back of his hoodie and crouching slightly to shield yourself.

He stiffened, caught off guard. Then he saw it—a car slowing down, its passenger wielding a camera that kept flashing incessantly. The bright lights blinded him momentarily, and irritation sparked in his chest.

“Hey!” Bucky growled, marching toward the car. The camera flashes continued, and without hesitation, he snatched the camera from the paparazzo’s hands and smashed it against the pavement.

The paparazzo’s jaw dropped in shock. “My camera!” he yelled, scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

But he wasn’t done. Pulling out his phone, the man began recording. “You’re a dead man! Who the fuck are you? Her boyfriend? Bodyguard?”

Bucky, his irritation mounting, opened his mouth to correct him, but before he could, you blurted out, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Bucky froze, glancing over his shoulder at you. Your grip on his hoodie tightened as you peeked around him, glaring at the paparazzo.

The man in the car stared at the two of you, his phone still recording. “This is going to be front-page news.”

Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What the hell did you just drag me into?” he muttered under his breath.

Exciting News!

I’m thrilled to announce the release of my new book, Dad, I Can’t Let You Go—a heartfelt collection of short poems about loss, love, and the journey of missing someone deeply. This book is dedicated to my father and to anyone who has experienced the pain of losing a loved one.

Available now on E-Kindle Amazon!

Dad, I Can't Let You Go! <<< Here's the link.

Thank you for your support, and I hope these poems resonate with you.

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[juniperss]

Just Looking Out

Bill Guarnere x Reader

Warnings:  harassment from a stranger, super predictable plot and cliche so be prepared for that, it’s long. lots of fluff at the end. Protective Bill 

A/N: This was originally written on my main account a few years ago but I decided to move it here since I don't change this URL as often and it makes easier to find my writing! Also It's been a while since I wrote these so I'd like to think that I've improved somewhat since then!

Bill watched as you led the way through the soldier filled bar towards the small booth in the back that was currently half occupied with various members of Easy Company. The ones that weren't dancing with strangers or mingling around the bar that is. He could see the game of darts unfolding across the way between Buck and Babe, the ribbing and cheers carrying over the other sounds. He wondered briefly how you were able to weave so expertly through the crowds, but any remark about it was forgotten when you glanced over your shoulder as you checked to ensure he was still there before smiling excitedly at him.

"Guarnere! Doc!"

Floyd greeted the two of you loudly, the mug of beer in his hand sloshing. He wasn't drunk...yet, but his large smile and enthusiastic conversation that he resumed with Shifty and one of the replacements hinted that he wasn't too far off from that goal.  Time to relax and have fun was few and far between during the chaos that surrounded the world right now, so much so that it was easy to forget how young you all were. And that there was much to life to enjoy. Such as watching your friends drink a bit too much while leaning into the back of a rather uncomfortable booth and sipping on your own beer. Bill was beside you now, his shoulder bumping into yours occasionally, as stories about training made their way into the conversation sparking groans, laughter, and many a question from the replacements on how bad Sobel had truly been.

"I'm gonna get another drink even if I'll regret it in the morning." 

You quipped as you scooted out of the booth and nodded your head towards the bar. You were able to easily make your way to your destination as the once large crowd had dispersed more evenly throughout the bar as the evening grew later.  Leaning against the bar you waited for your drink you surveyed the room with ease. The dancing had wound down leaving a handful of couples swaying slowly. The music playing from the radio was familiar and calming, with a steady beat that made it achingly romantic.  Meanwhile the game of darts had changed players but was still going strong between Toye and Perconte. You bit back a smile at the sight. A cough at your shoulder startled you, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as you turned your head quickly.

"Whoa there, dove!" 

The man was unfamiliar to you, dressed in civilian clothes with a mop of dark brown hair and scruff that was definitely not paratrooper regulation. Instinctively you moved to the left in an attempt to put some distance between the two of you assuming he had merely needed to place an order.

"Didn't mean to scare the pretty lady."

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from replying and continued to stare straight ahead watching the dart competition continue. Ignoring unwanted attention wasn't new to you especially in your time training. Being apart of Easy Company hadn't been easy, but you'd learned when to bite your tongue and when it was the right time to stand up for yourself.

"Lemme pay for your drink, to make up for the scare." It wasn't a question and that only made the offer more annoying to you. As if you had given any indication that you were looking for an advance from him or any form of conversation. After a deep exhale you turned to face him. He was even closer than he had been a moment ago, the gap that you had placed between the two of you now gone.

"No, thank you. I'm here with my friends."

The man glanced towards the direction of Guarnere and the rest of the gang at the table, eying the uniforms before looking back at you. His eyes sparkled in determination at the mention of what he presumed to be a challenge.

"They don't seem to be missing you too much. Share a drink with me and maybe you won't miss them either."

This time the offer made your stomach turn and despite your best efforts you felt a prickle of familiar fear and discomfort creep through you. Sure soldiers made comments, often times very rude ones that cut, but you had been fortunate that your company seemed to appreciate you for the most part. Easy Company seemed especially protective and respectful of you. It was jarring to not have that respect from a stranger 

"Really, I'm fine. Thank you." 

As if the heavens had parted the bartender finally pushed your drink towards you, your escape now gifted to you as if on cue. But as you reached for the cup the man grasped your wrist. Once again instinct worked faster than your mind and in one fluid motion you yanked your arm way pulling the glass towards you in the process. It shattered loudly on the ground, glass and beer spraying across the floor. 

"Been a while since a man touched you?"

His fingers were still around your wrist but the grip had tightened after your initial pull away. His words alone were enough to make you want to scream for him to leave you alone, but it was the look in his eye just about sent you over the edge into full panic. 

"You better fuckin' let her go." 

Bill was behind you and then suddenly he was between the man and you, his large hand coming to grab the man's arm. Bill Guarnere was eerily calm and somehow that was more terrifying then if he was yelling. You watched as his grip tightened and the man's grip on your wrist loosened under Bill's pressure. 

Apparently the scene of the drink crashing to the ground had gained the attention of not only Bill, but the rest of the soldiers. Buck was stalking across the room in your direction while you could see that Toye had followed Bill up to the bar. The man, sensing that he was clearly out numbered finally released your wrist and began to back up.

  But Bill didn't let go of his arm. His knuckles were white and you would visibly see the pain of his grip flash across the victim's face. 

"Nah, you're not goin' anywhere. Apologize to her." 

The man's mouth fell open slightly as he glanced between you and Bill as if he didn't understand the command, as if apologizing for crossing the line with a woman was a foreign idea. But Bill didn't budge and as the other soldiers seemed to begin to swarm, the man finally relented. "Sorry." The apology was choked, either because the words hurt to say or because Bill's grip was getting more painful (perhaps a mixture of both). As soon as his arm was released the man was gone, retreating to the other side of the bar to where a group of locals parted to let him lick his wounds in the dark corner. 

Sensing that the situation was resolved Buck and Toye nodded to Bill and you before returning to their tables leaving the two of you standing amidst the broken glass and beer. "Let's go, doll," his voice was hushed just for you and you felt the way his hand ghosted your lower back, "we can go." You allowed him to steer you out of the bar, the same way you had easily guided him through the crowd earlier that evening which suddenly seemed ages ago. 

Silence hung between the two of you and  you both inhaled the sharp fall air outside. The moon was bright providing enough light to see the path back to your lodgings easily. Bill's hand never left your lower back, yet didn't touch you, as you began to walk slowly. There was no urgency to your movements and you settled into a comfortable rhythm. "...thanks, Bill."

He scoffed. Not in a dismissive manner or in a mocking way, but rather in a way that would suggest he was waving off your thanks. "You could've handled it. I knew that when I stepped in. I was just....furious." 

"You didn't look it. It was kind of scary actually." 

This time he smiled, glancing down at you. When Bill got angry he was a rough and tumble kind of man. He used his words and his fists to get his point across, to defend the honor of his loved ones before his own. It was rare that you saw his silent anger and as you had said, it was a bit more scary than one would believe. 

"Still. Thank you for rescuing me." You gently jabbed his side with your elbow causing the both of you to laugh. One time when you'd first met he had made the mistake of attempting to rescue you from a situation that he had no business in and accidently gotten a bruised lip from you in return. Once again silence washed over the two of you, more comfortable than before. It didn't take long before you'd reached the house you were being quartered in. It was a small cottage owned by an elderly couple who reminded you of the couple back home in the states who watched all the neighborhood children with a careful and protective eye.

"Doll?" 

You glanced at him when he used the pet name you'd grown accustomed to. Grown to love, really. His fingers traced the bone of your wrist, as if to chase away the memories of the strangers grasp on you. His fingertips were calloused but his touch was surprisingly gentle in contrast, warm too. Without thinking you stepped closer chasing the feeling. 

"Goodnight..." 

His words seemed to fail him in that moment. Whatever words he had planned on saying hanging in the space between you as if suspended by an invisible string, swaying back in forth just out of reach of either of you being able to grab them in time. Yet you both knew what they were. You took another step forward, still following his touch on your wrist, his fingers now having completely encompassed it. The tenderness of his hand and of his eyes drawing you in closer and closer until you felt your chest against his.

Slowly, so slowly Bill leaned down to kiss you. Part of you had expected rough lips and strong eagerness, but instead you were met with rough lips and curious seeking behind his kiss. A curiosity that seemed to only been fed as he dropped your wrist and moved to cup your cheeks with both of his hands. Warmth coursed through your body, your mind full of fluff and your heart racing wildly. You could feel his own heart pounding against his chest through yours.

 And just as slowly as the kiss began, he moved away.

"Goodnight, Bill."

[st4rlvr]

It’s not all fake ||LMH

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of favor?”

“There’s this party tomorrow night. Big deal. Everyone’s going.” He paused, looking at me carefully. “I need a date.”

I blinked. “And you’re asking me because…?”

“Because if I show up alone, it’ll look pathetic,” he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. “And I don’t want people thinking I can’t get a date. So I thought of you.”

I crossed my arms. “Wow. That’s so flattering.”

“Okay, look,” he said quickly. “You’re not exactly dying to go, right? And I don’t have to worry about things getting weird because we’re friends. It’s just for one night. Fake dating. No big deal.”

I studied him, amused by how desperate he sounded. Minho wasn’t the type to ask for help, so this must have been important to him. Besides, the idea of fake dating Minho for a night had a strange appeal.

“Fine,” I said. “But you owe me.”

He grinned, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that way that made him both annoying and charming. “Deal.”

The party was already in full swing when we arrived. The music was loud, the lights dim, and the crowd packed tightly into the house. Minho slipped his hand into mine as soon as we stepped inside, his fingers warm against mine.

“Remember,” he murmured, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear, “we’re supposed to look convincing.”

“Got it,” I replied, trying to ignore the way my heart skipped a beat.

We spent the night making rounds, talking to people, and occasionally laughing like we were the perfect couple. Minho was surprisingly good at this fake dating thing, resting his hand on the small of my back, leaning in to whisper jokes, and even brushing a stray hair out of my face once. It was all for show, of course, but it felt… real.

At one point, we found ourselves on the quieter side of the patio, away from the noise. I took a sip of my drink, trying to ignore the strange fluttering in my chest.

“You’re good at this,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Good at what?” he asked, leaning against the railing.

“Pretending,” I replied, gesturing between us. “The whole couple thing.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe it’s not all pretending.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before he could answer, someone called his name, and the moment passed.

By the time Minho drove me home, the party had begun to blur into a haze of lights and laughter. I was exhausted, but the night had been unexpectedly fun.

“Thanks for doing this,” Minho said as we pulled up in front of my house.

“No problem,” I replied, unbuckling my seatbelt. “You’re officially not a loser.”

He laughed softly, but there was something different in his expression as he turned to me. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t kidding earlier,” he said, his voice quieter now. “About it not all being pretend.”

I froze, the air in the car suddenly feeling heavier. “Minho…”

“I know I made this whole thing sound like it was just for appearances,” he continued, running a hand through his hair nervously. “But if I’m being honest, I’ve liked you for a while. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Minho, my sarcastic, too-cool-for-everything friend, was looking at me like he was afraid of what I’d say next.

“You… like me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I do. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just thought you should know.”

I didn’t know what came over me, but instead of answering, I leaned forward, closing the small distance between us. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could say anything, I pressed my lips to his.

For a second, neither of us moved. Then, slowly, he kissed me back, his hand reaching up to cup my cheek. His lips were soft and warm, and the kiss was gentle but filled with something that felt so real, it made my heart ache.

When we finally pulled away, Minho rested his forehead against mine, his breath mixing with mine in the small space between us.

“So… does this mean you like me too?” he asked, his voice teasing but soft.

I laughed, feeling a little dizzy. “Yeah, Minho. I like you too.”

He grinned, his usual cocky confidence slipping back into place, but his eyes were brighter than I’d ever seen them. “Good. Because I was already planning on asking you out for real tomorrow.”

“Why wait until tomorrow?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You make a good point,” he said, leaning in to kiss me again.

When I finally stepped out of the car and headed inside, I couldn’t stop smiling. What had started as a fake date had turned into something real—and I couldn’t wait to see where it went next.

[earthtoharlow]

Flashing Lights

13) Heavy

Jack Harlow x Singer!OC

Series Masterlist

previous

“Guys, I think Jack is avoiding me.” Maryse said as she sat across Doja and Saweetie, they had decided to get brunch as they hadn’t seen each other in a while.

Taking a sip of her water, Doja spoke first. “That man is obsessed with you, I refuse to believe that.”

Saweetie nodded in agreement, “Yeah, girl that man would crawl in your skin if he could.”

While all that was true, something didn’t feel right. Running a hand through her hair she explained further. “Well yeah but he’s been acting differently since I told him I was going to be gone all fall to tour.”

The conversation they had a couple days ago continued to play in her head. “So, where do I fall in this?” Maryse could remember not knowing how to properly answer the question. For some reason, it felt deeper than just missing her while she toured.

“Hm, maybe he’s just scared he’s going to lose you. He’s never dated anyone that actually has a career. No offense to his ex’s, so I’m sure it’s going to be quite an adjustment, same with you as well.” Doja told her

“Yeah,” Saweetie continued “I mean you never had to deal with much distance before either, that loser ex of yours was home every week.”

Maryse rolled her eyes at the mention of Nate and sighed. “Yeah, I’m definitely going to miss him, but after our phone call it felt like he was giving up before we could even try.” She told them sadly.

Doja and Saweetie gave each other a look feeling sad for their friend. “Look girl,” Doja spoke first, “it sounds to me that you need to have a conversation with Jack. Like a real one, not one of those quick conversations over the phone.”

Maryse nodded knowing they were right.

“Don’t worry too much about it.” Saweetie said and raised her glass “Now, let’s toast to you going on tour with fucking Coldplay.” They clinked their glasses together and took a sip of the drinks, Maryse pretended to listen as the girls talked while she continued to think about her situation with Jack.

***

Urban looked down at his phone in confusion.

“Hey, Jack.” He called out to his friend who was sitting at the table writing. Jack looked at him in acknowledgement “Hm?” before continuing to write.

“Is your phone turned off? Maryse just texted me saying that she’s been trying to contact you all morning.” Urban asked, confused, he was actually shocked Jack wasn’t with her right now. It’s usually the first place he goes when he steps foot in New York.

“Nah, it’s on.” Jack said, still not looking up, and continuing to scribble in his notebook.

That made Urban even more confused, and slightly concerned. “Y’all, get in an argument or something? You’re usually up her ass.” He said with a chuckle

Jack didn’t find that funny “I just don’t want to be on my phone right now, geez. I’m not up Maryse’s ass either, I’m my own person. I’m just trying to write this verse for EST and not be bothered.”

Urban just stared at him wide eyed. Shocked that he was speaking of Maryse that way.

“Okay, dude. I don’t know what your problem is but I hope you fix it soon. Don’t take that energy to the Today Show.” Urban said with a roll of his eyes, and left the hotel room.

When Urban got to the hallway he didn’t know whether or not to tell Maryse he was in a bad mood or tell her a little white lie. Deciding to be honest, he texted Maryse letting her know Jack was working on music and that he seemed to be stressed but reassured her that Jack would be by later after rehearsals.

***

Not wanting to cause a scene Maryse stayed at home to watch Jack’s performance on the Today Show, she didn’t hear from him at all the day before other than him sending a text saying that he loved her, and that he would come to her place as soon as he was done performing.

Maryse was worried about him, something was off with him. The sparkle that was usually in his eyes when he performed was gone, his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. The reasoning had to be something deeper than just being exhausted.

When Jack walked in the door later that morning, it looked like the whole world was sitting on his shoulders. She immediately dragged him to the couch and settled into his lap and wrapped her arms around him.

They sat in silence as they soaked in each other’s presence with Jack’s head resting on the inside of Maryse’s neck. The past few weeks had Jack spiraling in his anxiety with him constantly telling Jason “yes” to appearances, hardly having a moment's peace.

Jack lifted his head, squeezing Maryse to get her attention. “I love you, Maryse.”

Maryse was slightly caught off guard by the deepness and emotion of his voice. She had to blink back tears before sharing the sentiment.

It was quiet for such a long time she would’ve thought Jack was asleep if he wasn’t pressing small kisses to her neck every few minutes.

“Do you wanna watch tv?” Maryse asked, motioning towards the television and running her other hand through his curls. Jack didn’t say anything but gave a simple nod. Maryse slid off his lap and sat beside him now on the couch, legs draped across his legs.

“You don’t have to but if there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here, baby.” She wanted to remind him that she's there for him, no matter what. Jack knew that was his chance to open up, but something was stopping him.

Maryse felt him let out a sigh next to her. “I’m fine, M. I’m just happy to be next to you finally. I’m sorry I’ve been kinda distant lately.”

She nodded, “It’s okay.” It wasn’t okay and it upset her but she would bring that up later.

“Let’s just take a nap, okay.” Jack nodded once more, falling asleep almost immediately. Maryse stayed up thinking about what was going to happen next month when they’re apart.

Hours had passed and Jack was still sleeping next to her, Maryse knew she needed to get up and go to the studio. She promised Saweetie she would hop on a song for her.

As she tried to sneak out Jack’s arms, he woke up.

“Where are you going?” Jack asked before rubbing his eyes, trying to wake himself up.

“I’m going to the studio to record something for Saweetie.” She told him while trying to find her shoes.

“Can’t you do that later? I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Reaching down to give him a kiss on the check. “I won’t be gone long I promise.”

As she turned back around, she was immediately pulled back by Jack tugging on the hoodie she had thrown on causing her to fall on top of where he was laid on the couch. Jack pressed his lips to hers passionately. As much as she wished she could stay and kiss him, work had to be done.

“Please, stay.” Jack almost whined.

“I’ll be gone only for a few hours, you big baby.” Maryse told him jokingly, grabbing her tote bag she always takes to the studio. Turning back around Jack’s face was full of frustration.

“We haven’t seen each other for longer than 24 hours in weeks with us both traveling.” Maryse crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I told you, I’m only going to be gone for three hours, top. It’s not that big of a deal.” She didn’t understand why he was getting so upset.

Jack ran a hand over his face before speaking again. “I finally convinced Neelam and Jason to push back some meetings today so I could spend the day with you.”

She was getting annoyed now. “While I appreciate that, I didn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Sorry for thinking you wanted to spend time with me.” Jack muttered back, the stress and anxiety was starting to creep back up, making him tense.

Maryse rolled her eyes. “Jackman, please.” She said sternly. “You know I would spend time with you every waking moment if I could. I can’t just rearrange my studio time because you’re here.”

“I just want to spend time with you, Maryse!” Jack’s voice started to raise slightly.

“Why don’t you come with me then, you can see what I’m working on.” Maryse suggested anything to stop this disagreement.

It was Jack’s turn to roll his eyes. “No, I just want to spend time with you and do something that doesn’t involve one of us working. I just find it funny how I can move things around but you can’t.”

“Again, I never asked you to do that.” Arms still crossed over her chest.

“I did it because I love you!” He shot back.

Maryse huffed, turning around and walking towards the window in her apartment. Needing a moment to breathe. “Jack, I’m starting to feel like you’ve been trying to make me feel guilty for being busy and being gone for long periods. My career is important to me, I can’t just drop everything for you.”

“Making you feel guilty?! No, this is about you not making me or our relationship for that matter a fucking priority.”

She breathed out a heavy sigh and shook her head. Jack wasn’t going to back down any time soon, and she didn’t feel like arguing anymore “I’m going to the studio now, don’t wait around.” Slamming the door behind her.

When Maryse got to the studio Saweetie was already at the soundboard. “Hey girl!” She said turning around in her seat, her smile dropped when she saw the look on her friend's face.

“Oh no, what’s wrong?” She asked, concerned.

“Jack and I just got in our first fight.” Maryse said as she pulled a chair up next to her friend.

“About what?”

Running a hand through her hair, “Jack wants to change my whole schedule up to be with him. He wanted me to cancel on you because he apparently pushed back meetings to hang with me since he was in town for the Today Show this morning. Which I never asked him to do.”

Before Saweetie could respond Maryse continued venting. “You and Doja were right, his ex’s always followed him around, changing their schedules for him. I don’t think he likes that I’m just as busy as he is.”

Saweetie nodded her head acknowledging her friend's feelings. “One thing I’ve learned is that there’s always room to grow, you guys seriously need to have a conversation about this. That’s the only way to handle this. As soon as you leave here you both need to talk. Don’t let the issue linger.”

“Yeah I will, this is just making me so upset.” Maryse told her friend. She hated arguing and hated it even more with Jack.

Saweetie pulled her into a hug, “You guys will get through this.” Maryse nodded, having a hard time believing her.

As promised Maryse finished recording in less than three hours, when she got back in her car she checked her phone to see if Jack texted her in those three hours. She was disappointed to see that he hadn’t tried texting or calling.

The closer she got to her apartment the more guilty she felt for leaving the way she did. While she quite didn’t understand where Jack was coming from she shouldn’t have snapped at him.

To say she was hurt when she walked inside and saw it empty was an understatement. Jack hated her now, and probably thought she wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe he was right, maybe she did put her career above him sometimes. But still felt like her feelings were valid as well. She can’t drop everything to be with him, even if she wanted to.

Going to her room to cry herself to sleep she stopped on her tracks when she saw a bouquet of flowers on her bedside table.

Walking to the flowers she pulled the card immediately to read it. “I love you.”

Maryse pulled the card to chest and closed her eyes as tears started falling. Crawling into bed, she still held onto the card. Pulling her phone out her hoodie she texted Jack. “I love you too.” sighing when she saw he left her on read.

It was harder than normal to fall asleep that night without Jack next to her knowing he was in town. She didn’t know what she was going to do if they didn’t talk this out before things escalated, especially with tour coming up.

***

AN: so... what do you guys wanna talk about? 🫠

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

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[vashsmunch]

Crumbs

Millions Knives x GN Reader

Synopsis: barista knives basically LMAO

Warnings: none

A/N: silly little coffee man who makes ur drink perfectly every time

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"That'll be $$8.35! Are you paying cash or card?"

Curse these local aesthetic coffee shops, robbing society of its money. You pulled out your wallet, grimacing as you talked back and forth with the cashier. A receipt prints out, and the cashier hands it to you, their mood noticeably happier when they saw that you'd tipped. The irony was dumbfounding, but you did it nonetheless. 

You glanced over to the end of the bar, scanning faces until you finally settled on one. There you are. Working as diligently as always, his gaze never meeting yours, but that's how he was. Most workers plastered on a fake smile, ass kissing in an attempt to raise their customer ratings. He was different, though, and maybe that's why he appealed to you so much. Stoic with a slightly condescending gaze, it just made him even more attractive. Your eyes rolled over his name tag as if you didn't have it engraved in your head a million times over. "It wouldn't kill you to say hi, considering I'm here every other day." 

Nai glared at you, quirking an eyebrow. "Then you should know that I already have your order done, so pick it up and leave me be." 

A heavy sigh left your lips as you walked to the other end of the counter and picked up your drink. You took a sip and rolled your eyes. Perfect, as always. "You talk a lot of sass for someone who has my drink memorized and ready every time I walk through the door. Just admit it, you like seeing me."

He didn't respond and started to make the following order. A small smile settled on your lips before you turned away to study in the corner like you always did. You would purposely pick a table facing the bar so you could give Nai glances over the top of your laptop. Sometimes he would meet your eyes, and you'd quickly look down back at your screen, praying he didn't mention it later on. He never did. 

Before you got too far, you heard him speak again. "It would be in your best interest to look at your cup in closer detail." You looked at him, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he nonchalantly steamed some milk in a pitcher. What was he talking about? Hesitantly, you slightly pulled down the paper sleeve to see a message scribbled on the cup in neat handwriting. 

XXX-XXX-XXXX. Call me later. I'll pick you up for our date tonight.

Your eyes bugged out as you stared at the words, completely flabbergasted. You looked up at him, not even fully registering what he wrote for you to read. He gave you an insufferable smirk and walked off, leaving you standing in the cafe, gaping at him like an idiot. "WHAT?"

≻───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────≺

Back and forth, back and forth. You groaned loudly as you shoved your face into your hands, walking around your living room. It wasn't as if you were nervous, of course not! This wasn't a date; there's no way it could be. Nai, the infuriating smartass, the intolerable piece of shit, the stupid blond hair man with the most sex appeal you'd ever seen... 

God, what am I thinking??? You slapped your cheeks, shaking your head as if trying to unlodge the thirsty thoughts from your brain. There was no way he could be serious about this. There's no way! You fiddled with your clothes, trying to smooth out any wrinkles that may have been plaguing you since being snatched from the back of your closet. It'd been a while since you'd gone on a date, so they hadn't been put to use in ages. The last time you went on one, your date ditched you as soon as the tab came. You still weren't over that.

You started pacing again, chewing on your thumb, before picking up your phone on the coffee table to stare at the screen. The conversation between you and Nai had been short, and he didn't even say where he was taking you. You were tempted to ask but knew it was futile. He was a man who liked to keep people at an arm's distance. At least, that's what you gathered from your interactions (from you staring at him from across the cafe whenever you went). The fact that he'd even asked you on this date, to begin with, was baffling, considering he always acted like you were some kind of nuisance. He would let out a loud sigh every time you walked through the cafe doors and roll his eyes when you uttered a single word to him. So what gives?

You jumped as you heard a sudden knock on your door. A quick glance at your phone told you it was 7 o'clock sharp. Leave it to him to be a punctual prick. Your heart was hammering as you stepped closer to the door, and it infuriated you. Why did he affect you this much? What about him left you pining like some sort of immature middle schooler? Was it his eyes? The way they roamed up and down your body whenever you talked? His lips, maybe? How they would curl up into a slight smirk every time he retorted with some witty comeback? Stop it!

A deep breath in, and you finally opened the door. And there he was, dressed in his loose black turtle neck and tailored pants, adjusting his watch as he skimmed your outfit with mild interest. How he looked at you made your hands sweat, feeling small as he came closer. Nai reached toward you, and you literally felt your heart stop. Then, your entire body was on fire as he swiped his thumb across the corner of your lips. You stared at him wide-eyed, and he returned the gaze with a quirked eyebrow. 

"You had a crumb," Fuck. He looked like he was about to laugh, but he stopped himself, extending the crook of his elbow towards you. "Shall we?"

You shakily put your arm through his, nodding as you gave him a meek smile. "Where to?"

[callsign-owl]

After-Party

This is a continuation of Graduation

Switzerland - June 2008

The streets of Lucerne buzzed with a chaotic blend of festivities. Owl found himself amid an absurd yet oddly captivating mix of cultures and energy. The Eidgenössisches Jodlerfest, Switzerland's triennial yodeling festival, had brought traditionalists from all over the country into the charming lakeside city. At the same time, the UEFA Euro 2008 had unleashed a flood of football fans. Owl wasn’t particularly interested in either, but the sheer absurdity of the scene somehow drew him in.

Orange-clad football fans were everywhere, their enthusiasm infectious. The Netherlands' supporters had taken over the city, their chants, songs, and impromptu dances filling the air. Many carried flags, scarves, and even face paint, their spirits unshaken despite the game taking place miles away in Basel. The public viewing areas were packed, massive screens showing the quarterfinal match between the Netherlands and Russia. Cheers and groans erupted intermittently, punctuating the bustling atmosphere.

Interwoven with the football mania was the unmistakable charm of the Jodlerfest. Men and women dressed in traditional Swiss attire wandered the streets, their yodeling harmonies weaving a melodic counterpoint to the rowdy chants of football fans. Some carried alphorns slung over their shoulders, others accordion cases, their presence adding an unmistakably Swiss flavor to the chaos.

However, for Owl the novelty of the scene was quickly turning overwhelming. The sheer volume of noise, the tightly packed crowds, and the constant barrage of sensory input made it hard to breathe, let alone enjoy himself.

The thought of returning to his dormitory crossed Owl's mind, but the idea was swiftly discarded. He could already picture Bartholomew waiting for him, ready to erupt. Not now. Not yet. Instead, Owl veered toward the main station, a place he knew would still have shops open even this late on a Saturday.

The small convenience store was predictably crowded, a mix of football fans stocking up for the rest of the match and last-minute shoppers grabbing essentials. Owl ignored them, making a beeline the beverages. His eyes scanned the shelves, quickly locating a bottle of vodka and a pack of Red Bull. He grabbed them without hesitation, ignoring the faintly judgmental glance from the cashier as he handed over his crumpled Swiss francs.

Stepping out into the humid evening air, Owl stuffed his purchases into his backpack. The unusual chaos and sensory overload of the city felt even more oppressive now. Owl’s mind briefly flickered to the graduation afterparty. The mere thought of it made him grimace. A nightclub packed with classmates he barely tolerated, the air thick with sweat, perfume, and alcohol was the last place he wanted to be. He could already picture the flashing lights, the deafening music, and the awkward conversations. No, that wasn’t his scene. Not tonight. Probably not ever.

Instead, Owl found himself drawn toward the lakeshore. The crowds began to thin as he moved away from the city center, the noise fading into the distance. Owl settled on a patch of grass, shrugging off his backpack and pulling out the vodka and Red Bull. He cracked open the can and took a long sip. Then he uncapped the vodka and poured generously into the can. The familiar burn of the alcohol mixed with the sickly sweetness of the energy drink, and he grimaced slightly before taking another gulp.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring out at the water and drinking his makeshift cocktails. Time seemed to blur, the alcohol muddling his senses and making the world feel a little less overwhelming. The distant sounds of the various ongoing festivities felt like they belonged to a different universe. For the first time all day, Owl felt something close to peace. Not happiness, not contentment, but the absence of pain. And for now, that was enough.

As the vodka worked its way through his system, the edges of Owl’s thoughts grew sharper, more chaotic. The calm he had briefly found gave way to a swirling mess of frustration, anger, and hopelessness. Once the cool night air began to bite through his flannel shirt, Owl knew it was time to go back to the dormitory. He was counting on his father’s disdain for wasting time to have driven him away by now. With a groan, Owl pushed himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily before slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

The walk to his dormitory was a blur and the effort felt monumental. Owl stumbled more than once but he managed to stay upright, focused on the singular task of putting one foot in front of the other. When he finally reached his room, he fumbled with his key, his fingers clumsy and uncooperative. After several tries, the door finally swung open, and Owl stumbled inside, letting it slam shut behind him.

Owl dropped his backpack by the door and collapsed onto the bed without bothering to remove his shoes. His head lolled to the side, as the room spun wildly around him.He closed his eyes, hoping to stabilize himself. It didn’t work. The alcohol churned uneasily in his stomach, and a wave of nausea rolled over him.

The sound of his phone vibrating on the nightstand barely registered at first. It wasn’t until the buzzing persisted that Owl forced himself to glance at the screen: Percy.

Owl stared at it, his mind sluggishly piecing together the timing. Percy’s calling at this ungodly hour after what happened during the graduation ceremony couldn’t be a coincidence. He debated letting it go to voicemail, but the vibration persisted, grating against his already raw nerves. With a reluctant sigh, Owl swiped to answer.

“What?” Owl he slurred, his voice hoarse and uneven.

“Well, hello to you too,” Percival’s crisp, measured voice replied. His tone was calm, but Owl detected the usual undercurrent of exasperation. “Am I interrupting something?”

Owl let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Just my very exciting night of lying in a spinning room and wishing I were dead. What do you want?”

Percival sighed, a sound that managed to convey both irritation and concern. “I wanted to check in on you. I heard about what you did during the graduation ceremony.”

“Of course you would know,” Owl muttered. He rubbed his temple with his free hand. “Let me guess. Father called you to rant about how much of a disgrace I am and told you to do the rest of the cleanup?"

Percival’s silence was answer enough.

Owl laughed again, the sound bitter and sharp. “Figures. You can report back to him that his little PR nightmare is safely passed out in his room.”

Percy exhaled sharply on the other end of the line, the sound crackling faintly through the phone speaker. “Do you think this is a joke, *redacted*?” he asked, his tone colder now. "Do you ever stop to think? Even for a second? Or do you just act on every impulse that crosses your mind without considering the consequences?”

Owl scoffed, shifting slightly on the bed despite the spinning in his head. “Oh, spare me the lecture, Percy. I'm very familiar with the concept of consequneces.”

“Then why?” Percy’s voice rose slightly, losing some of its usual polish. “Why do you keep doing this? You know exactly how he’ll react, what he’s capable of. And yet, you insist on poking the bear. It's the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

Owl let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Who says I expect a different result?"

Percy sighed. "Then tell my why, *redacted*. What's the point?" 

Owl exhaled sharply, the sound halfway between a laugh and a groan. “The point is, it doesn’t matter what I do - toe the line, step out of it, run circles around it - the outcome remains the same. I can’t win with him. But at least this way, I get to choose how I lose.”

“Is that what you think this is, *redacted*? A game you’re destined to lose?” Percy’s words came sharp and clipped. “This isn’t about winning or losing a game. This is your life. And if you’re going to throw it away just to spite him, then you’re more of a fool than I thought.”

Owl let out a hollow laugh, his hand running through his disheveled hair. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not exactly keen on the whole ‘being alive’ thing.”

There was a brief, stunned silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment. But when his brother spoke again, his voice was softer, tinged with something Owl couldn’t quite place. “Don’t say that,” Percy said quietly. “Even as a joke.”

“Who says I’m joking?” Owl muttered, though his voice had lost some of its defiance.

“Because I know you,” Percy replied, his tone steady but firm. “And despite how much you like to wallow in self-pity, you’re not the type to give up. Not really. You’re predictable in your chaos, *redacted*. You make impulsive choices, lash out at everyone who cares, and yet, somehow, you always manage to claw your way back just far enough to do it all over again.”

Owl’s lips twisted into a wry smile as he stared at the ceiling. “Maybe I’m just not very good at finishing what I start,” he said, his voice faintly mocking, though there was an unmistakable edge of vulnerability beneath the sarcasm.

Percy’s sigh was audible through the line. “You’ve been playing chicken with your own life for years. Daring the edge to give way but never quite letting it happen. You don’t actually want to be dead. If you did, you would be. You’re too stubborn to fail at anything you’ve truly decided on.”

Owl rolled his eyes, even though Percy couldn’t see it. “Ah, the wisdom of Percival,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Thank you, oh enlightened one, for that unsolicited analysis of my psyche. Truly groundbreaking.”

“Stop deflecting, *redacted*,” Percy snapped, his patience clearly wearing thin. “You know I’m right.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re always right,” Owl muttered, his tone hollow. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his exhaustion seeping into every word. “Congratulations. Add it to your list of accomplishments.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. For a moment, Owl thought Percy might have finally hung up, but then his brother spoke, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want to win. This isn’t a competition. I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

The unexpected sincerity in Percy’s tone made Owl’s chest tighten uncomfortably. He hated the way it made him feel: exposed and vulnerable. He didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. Instead, he let the silence stretch, hoping Percy would take the hint and let it drop.

But Percy wasn’t done. “Look, I know you’re not going to listen to me,” he said, his tone shifting back to something closer to his usual calm authority. “But at least do me a favor and take care of yourself tonight. Sleep it off. Drink some water. Whatever it takes to not feel like death warmed over tomorrow.”

“Wow, such wisdom,” Owl quipped, his voice flat. “Would have never occured to me.”

“*redacted*,” Percy said sharply, his voice cutting through Owl’s sarcasm. “Promise me.”

Owl sighed heavily, the sound carrying all the weariness and frustration he felt. “Fine. Whatever. I promise I’ll hydrate or meditate or whatever it is you want me to do. Can I hang up now?”

Percy hesitated, as if weighing whether to push further, but then he sighed. “Alright. Goodnight, *redacted*.”

Owl grunted in response and ended the call without another word. He dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and let his head fall against the pillow, closing his eyes. The room was still spinning, and his stomach churned ominously, but at least Percy was off his back.  As he drifted off into an uneasy sleep, Percy’s words lingered in the back of his mind, unwelcome but persistent. You don’t actually want to be dead. If you did, you would be.

Continue reading here

[ocean-bookss]

Chapter 2

Darkness // Leon Kennedy x Reader

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅

The bar door swung open, and a warm draft, mixed with the scent of beer and cigarette smoke, wrapped around me. Music boxes playing jazz hung on the walls, and a few guests sat at the tables, deeply engaged in conversation and laughing loudly. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost familiar, and although the smell was unbearable, this place always managed to bring a smile to my face. I walked up to the counter where Jill was already working. Her dark hair was tied in a loose braid, and she moved swiftly and skillfully behind the bar. When she noticed me, she nodded with a friendly smile. "What can I get you?" she asked with a slight grin.

"A mojito, please. Not too strong," I replied as I settled onto one of the barstools. The atmosphere here was exactly what I needed cozy and filled with good vibes. You could enjoy a drink in peace while listening to the hum of conversations and the music in the background. Jill shook the cocktail together. "Here’s your drink," she said, handing me the glass. I took a cautious first sip. The taste was perfect, refreshing but not too strong. Just right for a weekday evening.

Jill worked as a bartender here to earn some extra money on the side. Sometimes I’d step in to help when she needed support, and I genuinely enjoyed it. But today, that wasn’t necessary, and yet I had decided to keep her company anyway. We’d met back when I had just started at the publishing house. At the time, she was doing an internship. Even then, we’d hit it off quickly and build a solid friendship.

"How's it going?" I asked as I set my glass down. She glanced over her shoulder while taking another order. "The usual. But tonight’s quiet, which is kind of nice. Still, it’s always more fun when you’re behind the bar with me," she said with a smile. Her tone was calm and almost casual, but I could sense a hint of relief in her voice. The past few weeks had been exhausting, and I had helped her out a few times.

We chatted about trivial things while she expertly mixed drinks and took orders. I told her about my new project, and she vented about her family situation. Her colleague, whom I also got along with, occasionally chimed in with a witty comment.

I had just taken a sip when Jill suddenly leaned closer to me. "Look casually to the left, at the end of the bar," she whispered while pretending to dry a glass. "That guy’s been staring at you the whole time."

Surprised, I turned my head slowly, pretending to take in the bar’s decor, and let my gaze drift in the direction she indicated. Sure enough, a man was sitting alone on one of the barstools, a beer glass in front of him. He wore a dark cap pulled low over his face, making his features hard to see. A heavy coat hung over his shoulders. I felt his gaze on me intensely, even though I only glanced briefly in his direction.

Something about him seemed oddly familiar. My thoughts wandered back to the man I had seen earlier at the edge of the street while working at the café.

"Maybe you should go over there," Jill teased with a sly smile. "You’ve been single for a while now. Doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere." I made a face. "No thanks. Not my type."

"How do you know? Maybe he’s a quiet romantic. Sometimes those are the best ones," Jill laughed, her eyes sparkling mischievously. She loved coming up with theories like that, no matter how far-fetched they were.

I forced a weak smile, but inside, I was tense. It wasn’t just the surprise of seeing him again, it was the strange aura around him. Even from a distance, he had an unsettling presence, and now, up close, that negative energy seemed to fill the entire room.

Maybe it was just a coincidence that he looked familiar. But the more I thought about it, the more uncertain I became. Was he really the man I had seen on the street earlier, or was my mind playing tricks on me? My heart began to race slightly as I tried to push those thoughts away. I had no idea why this guy scared me so much—something about him just felt wrong.

I decided not to tell Jill that I might have already seen him earlier today. After all, I wasn’t entirely sure. Instead, I shrugged and took another sip of my drink. "Boring," she murmured and turned her attention back to a guest asking for another beer.

I tried to relax, but my pulse kept racing. The whole time, I felt his gaze on me, even though I no longer dared to look in his direction.

I ignored Jill's comment.

As the hours passed, the man slowly finished his beer and eventually paid. I heard the clink of coins and a brief exchange with Jill before he stood up and walked toward the door. I didn’t dare look at him directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw him disappear into the night.

"He’s gone," Jill commented casually without turning around. "Maybe next time."

I nodded weakly, trying to smile, but unease still gripped me. Something about that man wouldn’t leave me alone. Why couldn’t I shake the feeling that this wasn’t just a coincidence?

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

The next morning, I visited the lab again. The pills had actually worked, and I felt more rested than I had in years. It almost broke my heart to leave the bed because the sleep had been so deep and refreshing. That surprised me, considering that for the past three years, I had been relieved to get up in the morning just to escape the nightmares of the night. But this night was different. The pills had pulled me into a deep sleep within ten minutes after I returned from the bar and got ready for bed. I hadn’t even woken up for a nightly trip to the bathroom. My bladder was bursting by morning, but I didn’t mind in the slightest. With a wide smile on my face, I walked into the lab building and headed straight to Chris’s office.

Just as I was about to enter, the door opened from the inside. The woman from the previous day stepped out, her presence once again impressive and almost intimidating. She strutted away, and I couldn’t help but watch her go. Finally, I knocked on the door, and after a few seconds, Chris’s voice called, “Come in.”

Still smiling broadly, I opened the door. Chris was standing behind his desk, talking to Leon. His icy gaze met mine, they were calm and unreadable. Slowly, his eyes scanned me from head to toe. For a moment, I felt uncomfortable, but the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came.

“Good morning!” I said cheerfully, glancing back and forth between Chris and Leon. Leon murmured a quiet, “Morning,” while Chris greeted me with a smile.

“Someone had a good night’s sleep?” he asked with a slightly teasing tone, causing Leon to look at me briefly, a little puzzled.

I couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Yes, the pills actually worked!” I replied, noticing Leon’s gaze linger on me for a moment before he left the room without another word.

I stepped closer to Chris and sat down in one of the chairs opposite his desk. “So,” I began, “I slept really well. No nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night.”

Chris listened carefully and asked specific questions. He wanted to know if I had experienced headaches or dizziness when I woke up. I shook my head at each question. “No, nothing like that. It was like... well, like a miracle.”

When I finished my report, Chris took a blood sample and listened to my heartbeat as usual. After confirming that everything looked normal, he told me everything was in perfect order.

“I’ll prescribe you another pack. You can get it at any pharmacy, but under a different name. The explanation is complicated,” he added, and his tone made me pause for a second.

“Does this… have some kind of illegal vibe to it?” I asked skeptically.

Chris shook his head and waved dismissively. “Don’t worry, it’s all perfectly legal. You can buy them without any trouble.” That was enough for me. As long as I could finally sleep normally, I didn’t care about the rest. We scheduled another appointment for the following month, and I left the office.

On my way to my car, I bumped into someone.

“Oh! Claire!” I exclaimed in surprise.

Claire looked visibly stressed and rushed. “Sorry, I didn’t see you!” she mumbled hastily and tried to move past me.

“Is everything okay with you?” I asked, confused. Claire paused briefly, avoiding my gaze, and nodded, but it was clear that something wasn’t right. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! I just need to see Chris quickly.” Before I could say anything else, she was already rushing into his office. Her face had an expression I couldn’t quite read—a mix of anger and worry. I stood there for a moment, uncertain, and could hear their voices growing louder inside. Whatever was going on, it seemed important. And whatever was happening in this lab, it didn’t seem to be going particularly well.

I thought back to yesterday’s scene with Leon and the mysterious woman arguing. But I decided not to dwell on it any further.

As I walked to my car, my thoughts lingered on Chris and Claire. They had saved me back then and destroyed the lab. They were the only ones who truly helped me carry the weight. They were the only ones who knew how deep the wounds really went. Without them, I wouldn’t know how to live with the memories. Umbrella had trapped me in their so-called “medical research programs.” That’s what they called it, and that’s how they avoided raising suspicion with my parents or my university. Umbrella was too clever, too controlling, to let their true face show.

They had presented it as a program meant to advance humanity. In truth, it was nothing more than a cover for their grotesque experiments. I was an object. A number. A living test subject they manipulated at will. They had done things to me that I sometimes struggled to believe, even though I had lived through them. I didn’t know what they wanted to achieve with me. Superhumans? Biological weapons? Or did they simply enjoy seeing how far they could break a person? They never gave me any answers. Instead, they continued their experiments on me. I was nothing more than a toy for their cruel scientific games.

As I sat in my car, I noticed that my hands were trembling. The thought of Umbrella, of what they had done, sent a cold shiver down my spine. My eyes wandered back to the large building, and once again, it became clear to me that my past would never leave me in peace.

[whirlybirbs]

"have a drink with me" w/ johnny soapy mactavish <3

                        ( ! beautiful gif from this set by @sgt-gaz )

;     —   liars den   |   johnny "soap" mactavish

summary: drinks and pining shared. pairing: johnny mactavish / gender neutral!reader, birdie tags: casual beers, yearning pining, and breaking the rulebook on fraternization, casual johnny family mention a/n: did you know this man is my little meow meow.

Your eyes settle momentarily on the scars across his knuckles as the good Sergeant tosses back his beer. 

You drag your gaze away as if scorched — and Johnny catches the flicker of your lashes as you lean forward, brace your elbows against the bartop, and cast your eyes to the tele above the bartender's shoulder playing the Liverpool-Manchester match. 

John swallows his swig roughly. 

You inhale, then exhale.

...You shouldn't be here.

A bead of condensation runs down your bottle's neck and rolls over your fingertips. 

This — this little off-the-clock wind-down? This is a bad idea. Because here, in this shitty Ranger bar, you're sat down beside him. Johnny motherfucking MacTavish. 

...Fuck.

He's a good man. Loves his mum. Calls home often. Has three sisters, all older. He's got a heart a' gold and a smile charming enough t' widdle down even the Lieutenant. 

Handsome t' boot. 

Kind.

Funny.

Everyone loves the bastard. 

And you have been trying your damndest to keep your distance. Miles worth. Thirty-thousand leagues worth. He's head-level, and you're choking up in the thinning atmosphere — and that's how it should be. 

But, fer fuck's sake — cut him some slack, would ye? He's tryin' here. Pullin' every damn string he can to get you on their comms. Yer th' best watcher they got, after all, with Laswell back state-side. He doesn't trust anyone else t' be his eyes. Only you. El-tee says he's got it bad.

Maybe he does.

Have a drink with me, he asked after the debrief. 

You realized a long time ago you couldn't say no to him — tonight is no exception.  

So, here you are. Hip to hip at the bar, shoulder to shoulder sipping beer that's just cold enough. 

"Y' look miffed."

You snort into your drink and slide your eyes away from the late-game goal replay. 

"That's just my face."

"Nah," he crosses his arms with the bottle still in his left hand, "Yer face's pretty. This face ain't."

You straighten slightly and inhale tightly. 

John's smirk twists a bit. "Relax, birdie."

You swig your beer and drop your head. "Heard from Alejandro lately?"

"Yer deflectin'."

You roll your look his way and flatten your stare. You're met with a satisfied smile that's tugging, tugging, tugging at his lips. The shadow of stubble there hides dimples. 

"I am not."

"Yes," he emphasizes as he uncrosses his arms and leans closer, "Y'are."

"I'm just askin'—"

"Are y' mad at me?"

You blink hard. 

John's face is expectant.

You realize your mouth is open. 

"...What?"

"You," he prods your shoulder gently with his pointer finger, then takes a sip, "'ave been avoidin' me like th' plague, birdie."

You fall quiet. 

You frown.

"...No, I haven't."

Johnny tuts. 

You wish you could just tell him. That you feel your entire chest tighten when he steps into debriefs. That he makes your job harder because you're always watching him and only him. That you have had dreams about touching his face, dreams where you kiss him and it's all starlight and peace and quiet—

"Mum always said lyin' is unbecomin'."

And despite it all, you muscle down the yearning and offer up your best smile.

"We're good. Promise."

His eyes settle on the dig of your smile in your cheeks. He drags his gaze away as if scorched. 

"Alright."

...Fuck.

[jobean12-blog]

Fate

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 1,132

Summary: You meet Loki at a bookshop. 

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-th-horniest-book-club Lucky in Love Challenge and day 8: Fate. My lovely friend Jo @gallifreystray sent me this amazing prompt a while back and I saw it and this story just happened. I really hope you like it, I so enjoyed writing it! Thank you all SO MUCH for reading and much love always! ❤❤❤ My divider is by the lovely @imerdwarf PS the quote is by Clairel Estevez. 

Warnings: soft and sweet fluff

The early Spring rain is heavy and cold as you slosh down the city street. Your boots are nearly soaked through and your toes are feeling icy. You can’t seem to find a safe haven from the weather as you search the rows of apartment buildings.

Turning the corner, you see a small store with fruit out front and under an awning. You rush over and stand under it, deciding a snack might be in order while you’re here. Just as you start inspecting the apples something rubs against your legs.

You move back and look down. Two piercing green eyes stare back up at you with an expectant look.

“Oh, you sweet thing. What are you doing out here?” you ask the shiny black cat.

As if to answer your question the cat meows and starts to walk away into the rain. Unable to help your curiosity you put the apple back and follow the cat. He only walks a short distance before disappearing between the small crack in a door that was left slightly ajar.

You look up at the building but can’t read the sign because of the rain and decide to go inside. The moment you do you’re met with a cozy warmth and the smell of old leathered books. You slowly walk toward the numerous and tall bookshelves, all lined with the spines of what must be thousands and thousands of books.

“I see Fate has brought you here,” a smooth voice says from behind you.

You jump with a start and spin on your heel. You’re met with the same green eyes from earlier but this time they belong to a man. A very handsome and tall man.  His hair is as jet black as the cat’s fur that is perched atop his shoulder and as if on cue they tilt their heads in greeting.

“Hi,” you whisper, now entirely unsure of the situation.

“You must be freezing in all those wet clothes. Can I offer you some tea?” the man asks.

Before you realize what you’re doing you nod your head and follow him to the back of the bookshop. It’s there that you find a small space with a couch and two chairs and a fireplace. He motions to the chair closest to the fire and you sit with a plop.

“Thank you,” you manage to squeak.

“Of course, darling. I’m just happy Fate found you.”

The cat jumps off his shoulder and lands at your feet, rubbing along your ankles and purring.

“I was so surprised to see him outside in this weather,” you start, feeling as if you owe him an explanation for coming into the shop. “I didn’t even know there was a bookshop here.”

He smiles softly before disappearing again. You lean over and pet Fate, the sweet cat clearly seeing it as an invitation to crawl into your lap. The man returns with a large cup of tea and some biscuits.

“Here you go my sweet. Now, drink that up and get yourself warm. You should probably remove your shoes and socks as well,” he states, taking a seat in the chair across from you.

“Thank you for all this,” you say, taking his advice.

“I’m Loki, the owner of this bookshop and as you already know, your friend there is Fate,” he tells you.

You continue scratching Fate and take a sip of the tea, sighing happily when the hot liquid goes down and warms your belly. You find it extremely easy to talk to Loki and it isn’t until your stomach grumbles that you check the time and nearly yelp when you see that three hours have passed.

“Oh my! I’ve kept you so long. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize,” you ramble on, standing and stumbling over the discarded shoes at your feet. You start to fall forward but a pair of strong arms catch you, easily setting you straight again.

“Do be careful darling,” he purrs.  “Can’t have you getting hurt now can I?”

You’re completely entranced by the green of his eyes and how they seem to swirl with color.

“Hmmmm?” you reply. “Oh yes. Right. Of course. Uh, thank you,” you mutter.

You sit back down and put on your socks and shoes, now both dry thanks to the warm fire and your long stay.

“Thank you again,” you tell him. “This was lovely and I think the rain has finally stopped.”

You tear your gaze away from his and look out the front window to see the early evening sky alit with the fiery orange of the setting sun.

“Indeed, it has,” Loki agrees, eyes still on you. “I hope you will visit again soon. If only to keep Fate happy.”

You look down at the cat now sandwiched between your legs, his tail swishing happily back and forth against you.

“I don’t think I could stay away very long,” you admit, giving him one more pat before walking to the door.

“Thank you again, Loki. It was nice meeting you both,” you say, smiling at the matching pair of green eyes before opening the door.

Work and life keep you away from the bookshop for the remainder of the week but on Saturday afternoon you stroll down the same street, now sunny and dry, and see Fate sitting outside the door as if he is waiting for you.

The feline immediately perks up and saunters over to you, meowing as if to ask, “where have you been?”

You pick him up and open the door, seeing no sign of Loki. Fate unexpectedly leaps from your arms and naturally lands on his feet, padding softly down a dimly lit aisle of books. You follow him, brushing your fingertips over the worn book bindings and kicking up dust.

“Where are we going Fate?” you ask, the cat’s eyes gleaming in the low light.

Finally, he stops by a small bookshelf set under a stained-glass window. He hops on top and starts to paw at a book on the top shelf. You walk closer and caress the books spine before carefully pulling it from the shelf. When you open it a small piece of parchment falls to the floor.

You take it between trembling fingers and read the scribbled ink, as exquisite in form as it is in words; ‘Fate has spoken…your name fits in my heart, in such a way. You are destined to be the body, for the story of my life.’

Your soft gasp is met with the purr of Fate and the feel of Loki at your back. You turn slowly and see him standing amongst the fading light of the sun, his eyes shining.

“I’m so glad to see that Fate has brought you back to me darling.”

@bugsbucky @book-dragon-13​ @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @eurynome827​ @hiddles-rose​ @jhangelface0523​ @jewels2876​ @loricameback​ @lorilane33​ @lookiamtrying​ @lizette50​ @marvelgirl7​ @nano--raptor​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @randomfandompenguin​ @white-wolf1940​

[donald4spiderman]

The City

masterlist

-

Summary: Reader is thinking about moving to California. Spencer’s determined to get her to stay.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Warnings: none

Category: Fluff (angst if you squint)

**Inspired by Ben’s poetic confession in Parks and Recreations, S3E14**

Here’s a draft i forgot to post

-

**not edited yet**

Spencer’s POV

As a profiler, I’ve mastered the observation and analysis of behavior— we all have.

Picking the minds of serial killers is second nature— so why is it so hard for me to figure out why (Y/N) is behaving so strangely?

In the recent months, her witty and charming energy has dwindled into a lethargic imitation. Whether she’d admit it or not— (Y/N) can be extremely enthusiastic about certain things— especially our job.

So, when I watch her drag her feet, inch by inch, into the BAU each morning, It’s hard to contain my concern.

I know Morgan has noticed, and I’m sure everyone else has too. They’re probably just too scared to say anything. (Y/N) doesn’t enjoy people prying into her private life, so we all stay a comfortable distance away.

I watch her a lot... more than I’d like to admit. It’s hard to be unaware of her nervous behaviors— the nail biting, hair twisting, skin picking— I practically have enough data to make a correlation graph. I can tell when she’s upset, and it’s happening more than usual.

(Y/N) has always been kind to me. Even when I was at the peak of my stammering, slicked-back hair phase, she treated me with more respect than I deserved. I can only imagine how awkward I must’ve been (or, still am), and I thank her for not belittling me.

I guess I’m validating the Benjamin Franklin Effect when I say this— but I feel like I owe it to her to ask what’s wrong. Over the years I’ve built up (arguably) the closest friendship with her, so it only makes sense for me to bite the bullet for the team.

It’s partially due to the fact that I’ve developed a slight (if not major) crush over time, but who wouldn’t? A gorgeous, intelligent, quick-witted women is kryptonite for any person. Our conversations are always stimulating, she gives the best advice, and she’s always there to comfort a team member.

So, it pains me to see her struggle through a paperwork day. I wish she would reach out to anyone for help, but it’s not in her nature.

“H-Hi.” I smile as I approach her desk. Her tired eyes look up at me, and she smiles back.

“Hey, Reid. What’s up?

I rub the back of my neck nervously. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Morgan and Emily watching me struggle to form a sentence. They giggle as they watch.

“I-I was... um. D-do you want to get coffee with m-me? Not now! I mean— after work!” Morgan stumbles out of the bullpen, barely containing his laugh. I must sound pathetic.

(Y/N) nods hesitantly, “S-sure. I don’t know why you want to get coffee with me, but I’m free.”

“Really?” My surprise shocks her. “T-that’s gr-great! I can drive you!”

She chuckled, “I think I’d rather drive us. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive a mile without hitting a curb.”

I nod fervently. “Sounds good.”

As I make my way back to my desk, I send a glare in Emily’s direction as she continues to smirk at me.

-

(Y/N) grabs an empty table in the café, and we sit down, huddling close to our warm drinks. She orders a cinnamon latte, I order a black coffee with an unhealthy amount of sugar.

I place the drinks down. “Did you know that cinnamon is shown to reduce systolic blood pressure. It’s commonly used in South Asia and works by dilating blood vessel.”

She nods, “Surprisingly, I did know that. You’re gonna have to teach me something else, Doc.” I laugh in response, enjoying the relaxation that radiates off of her.

“I feel like we don’t get to, um, t-talk as much as I would like to.” My words get caught in my throat and she gives me a lopsided smile.

“Well, we don’t exactly have the most leisurely job.” She states, sipping her drink.

I bite my lip, she looks down. I convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, because there’s no way (Y/N) would glance down to watch me pull my bottom lip between my teeth.

“I know... but you used to talk more.”

“I’ve been busy lately. Tired too.” She mumbles.

I mean forward slightly, my voice is a hushed whisper. “A-are you... okay?” I’m anticipating an defensive response, but all she does is sigh.

“I’m alright. I just... I’m getting tired of being here— in D.C.”

My eyes widen and my brows knit together. “W-What! Why?”

(Y/N) shrugs, “I don’t know. I just expected to feel... really, really attached to D.C when I first moved here. I love my job, and I love you guys— but nothing’s keeping me here.”

My face drops. My disappointment is adamant because she scrambles to reassure me.

“It’s not that I don’t absolutely love working with you guys. You’re my best friend, Spencer. But... I came to D.C to... I don’t know... settle down.” It comes out as more of a question rather a statement. “It’s sounds weird, right? Me, settling down?” She laughs. “I-I don’t mean a husband and a family necessarily. I moved here because I wanted to belong somewhere.”

“You don’t feel like you belong?”

“I feel... I feel like everything I have right now is temporary. It’s not the feeling I expected to have. I just want to have something permanent in my life for once.”

I remain silent, lacking the proper response.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” She pleaded.

I smile solemnly, “I won’t. I promise.”

In that moment, I make another promise. Not just to (Y/N), but to myself. I’m going to show her how many things she has here for her in D.C.

I’m going to prove how much I believe she belongs.

-

I started by bringing her coffee each morning— a cinnamon latte from the same café we went to.

The first time she seemed pleasantly surprised. I sped through the doors of the bullpen, my coat and slacks absolutely soaked due to the rainy D.C weather. She giggled at the sight of my hair plastered to my forehead. I was certain that I looked like a wet dog.

“Morning!” I greeted, placing down both cups of coffee on her desk so I could fix my hair. “I-uh-I got you coffee. A cinnamon latte, of course.”

(Y/N) smiles brightly, “You’re the best. Thanks, Reid. I definitely needed this.”

Hotch and Rossi are watching me curiously, pretending not to look up from their files. At this moment, I could care less.

“It’s n-nothing.” Suddenly I’m blushing furiously under the weight of her stare.

“Thanks, again.” She clears her throat, “Y-you’re a really good friend.”

She smiles. And I smile.

-

In the next three weeks, (Y/N) and I grow closer at a rate faster then ever. I try to do something small for her everyday. Finishing up a file for her; Bringing her coffee or water; Sitting next to her on the jet. It appears to be working— she looks much more relaxed and happy. Her sarcastic humor is back and she engages more with the team.

We’ve decided to hang out after today. I find myself enjoying every minute with her, even if all we do is talk, eat, and walk around aimlessly. I’m sure she’s tired of me, but my infatuation with her only grows.

Tonight, we’re sitting at the park, watching people on their late night jogs, dog walkers, babysitters. We finished eating Indian food at a local restaurant. Turns out we’re both regulars at the same place, it’s a shame we haven’t run into each other.

She’s sitting criss-cross on the bench, her elbow rested on top of her knee. “You know,” She starts, “D.C is pretty great. I don’t think I’ve felt this... content in a while.”

I smile, even if it’s too dark for her to see. “Th-thanks. D.C is a great place, despite averaging 39 inches of rain annually.”

She means her head back against the bench. “I still don’t know. I feel like I’m just waiting for something. I don’t even know what that something is... a sign maybe?”

“A sign?” I laugh.

“Y-yeah... a sign. I’d usually make a pros and cons list and research the differences between the two places but... this decision feels too personal to look at it as just statistics.”

In this very moment, I decide to toss all my concerns, questions, what if’s, into the wind. This is my final move; my last resort; my Hail Mary.

My hands are trembling, and it takes me seconds to force the words out of my throat.

“W-well, besides the higher cost of living and considerably gloomy weather, D.C can be a p-pretty great place to reside. It has a busy political culture and is one of the most diverse states in the country.” I pause for a little longer than necessary.

“But, besides statistics and facts, if w-we look past objectivity, to me: D.C is where my friends are, and my friends are my family. Um... I like The City because it’s home to so many great people. A-and I know it’s hard to see the good in things considering how much violence we see on a daily basis, but certain people make me believe that things aren’t all that bad.”

(Y/N)‘a listening attentively, making me even more nervous than I thought possible. “D.C— The City— is beautiful. It’s charming. It’s a warm, cinnamon latte on a rainy day, o-or a late night walk in the park. To me, it’s home.” I catch her smirking a little bit, and I can only hope that she understands what I’m trying to say.

“Plus, The City is really good at her job. The City’s an excellent profiler. But, the city’s an even better friend, and an even better person. It doesn’t hurt that The City has great hair, and gorgeous eyes, and a perfect smile. And, she does this cute thing where she twists the ends of her hair, even if I keep telling her to stop. The City’s beautiful and definitely out of my league. She probably wants nothing to with me now, but I don’t care. I really like The City. And, even if she doesn’t like me back, she should stay, because there are so many people that like and love The City. ‘Cause who wouldn’t.”

(Y/N) is full on grinning right now, and it’s hard to stay patient when so much is on the line.

“Wow.” She giggles. “You really like The City.”

I chuckled awkwardly, “Y-yeah. I really do.”

“I mean, if you think The City’s so great, maybe I should stay. Plus, I’m sure The City likes you too.”

I feign confusion, “Really? I don’t know... The City can be kind of closed off sometimes.”

“Trust me— The City definitely likes you back. And I don’t think The City appreciates you saying that about her”

“Oh really?” I gasp. “Let’s ask her.”

I turn my head around, then proceed to look back at (Y/N) in the most dramatic fashion.

“Hey.” I laugh.

“Oh, Hi Dr. Reid!” She feigns surprise to match my frivolousness.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, b-but I really like you. And, a little birdy told me that you like me back.”

She laughs heartily, “Well, that little birdy is a pretty reliable source.”

Soon, her head is resting on my shoulder. My body’s stiff and the air is caught in my lungs, but I feel more content than I have in years. Somehow the weather is warmer, and the sun is brighter, and things just seem... better.

“This is a great city.” She mumbles, peering up at me in the most adorable fashion.

“Yeah,” I smile, “It really is.”

-

“Pawnee’s a really special town, I love living there. And, I look forward to the moments in my day where I get to hang out with the town, and talk to the town about stuff. The town has really nice blonde hair too. And, it’s read a shocking number of political biographies for a town, which I like.” - Ben Wyatt

[dreamypjm]

ABOVE | Park Jimin

-> Chapter Index <-

_________________________________

Chapter 3 - "just another flirt..?"

word count: 878

Me: "Jimin..?"

I haven't heard that name ever before but now that I look at him I couldn't imagine him bearing any other name.

Jimin.

Me: "Nice to meet you!

I hope the coffee is okay?"

He takes a sip and looks back at me.

Jimin: "yeah, it's great!

Thank you, uhm.. you -"

Me: "Y/N!"

Jimin: "Ah, Y/N.. thanks"

He looks down at his cup and smiles.

Jimin: "Well..I haven't had an iced americano in a while, I guess it's not that typical in this area. Thank you for the effort."

He's still looking at his cup, stiring the coffee with the straw when he suddenly stops and looks up at me.

He's not smiling.. but his eyes are.

What a glance.

Jimin: "My heart has been craving... this"

His lips form a smile now.. no, not a smile. It's more like a smirk.

This.. this WHAT?

He's talking about the coffee but.. wow, he definitely did that on purpose!

Me: "u-uhm.."

Those words leave me speechless for a second. How embarrassing.

Ugh.. He must be one of these guys knowing his own charme too well and not letting a single chance slip to use it.

I can't stand stuff like that.. but still, it worked and I blush.

He let's out a slight laugh, looks down and starts stiring the coffee again.

Wait, is he.. blushing aswell?

Before I get to say anything my co-worker enters the counter, coming from one of the other rooms where she's been organising supplies.

She spots Jimin and walks past me, straight towards him.

Co-worker: "A new day, a new face!

Hi, can I get you something?"

Jimin lifts his head up.

He suddenly looks super innocent, glancing at her wearing a shy smile.

Jimin: "No, thanks! I'm super happy with what I got."

He points at his empty cup.

When did he drink all his coffee??

Jimin: "I'd like to pay tho"

I turn around and head towards the register to get his receipt.

I can hear my co-worker talking to Jimin but I'm not focusing on what they say.

I can only guess he's playing out his charme on her aswell and for some reason I seem to get mad just thinking about that.

I can feel my headache getting worse.

I turn back around.

Jimin is waiting at the counter with one hand on his forehead while my co-worker talks to him. He still wears a slight smile but something seems off.

However, I walk over to them and hand him the receipt.

Me: "2.50 please"

My co-worker looks at me with one of her eyebrows raised while Jimin searches for his purse.

He suddenly grabs my hand.

For a moment it felt as if he was trying to hold in to it.

Then I remember how I've been staring at his hands earlier and start to blush,

I guess he's making fun of me for that..

He places the money in my hand and gently closes it by putting his hand on top of mine.

Jimin: "Keep the change"

- he says while smiling at me and still holding in to my hand.

I pull my hand out of his and nod.

Me: "Thanks"

Wow, that sounded really mad I guess.

Whatever.. I am mad.

Mad at myself for thinking something about this guy was different while he seems to be just another flirt, playing his charme on any girl.

I feel my headache getting worse again. I really shouldn't stress myself that much.

I try to ignore the pain and put on a forced smile.

Me: "We hope to see you again here soon"

Jimin puts one hand on his forehead again and his smile slowly fades.

Jimin: "Thanks"

He turns around and I watch him walk out.

A few minutes after he's been gone I open my hand and spot a small note next to the money.

Seriously? Leaving his number on a note like that and just walk out?

I'm tired of those kind of guys, for real.

I crumple up the note while I look outside.

Huh.. he's still there?

He's standing infront of the coffee shop, staring into the distance.

The way the sun shimmers on his skin makes him somehow look.. angelic.

Co-worker: "Wow, what a man. Too bad he's one of those who won't show up here again, I guess"

I look over to her while she's cleaning up the counter.

Me: "Why do you think so?"

She stops wiping the counter with a sponge and looks out of the window where Jimin is still standing.

Co-worker: "Well, I told him about the family feeling concept of our coffee shop and asked for his name and order to write it down but he didn't seem to be interested in that and left me without any answer."

I don't say anything but turn my head down at the crumpled up note, trying to hide a smile.

So.. he didn't tell her his name?

I slowly put the note into one of my pockets, straighten myself up and look outside again towards Jimin.

My heart abruptly skips a beat when I realized that he's looking at me.

Our eyes meet and I freeze.

...

[slashbitch2]

The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

[13-reasons-ideas]

Hey, I love your stories and your style of writing 💕 I was wondering if you could write one on Scott Reed, along the storyline of the series, where the reader was Jeff's girlfriend until his death, and Scott is there by her side and starts to get along with her, but he's hesitant to make a move because he was pretty close to Jeff as well?

MOVING FORWARD? 

A/N: Trigger warning: character death. I hope you like this. I tried to focus more on the process of moving forward with little snippets. I’m sorry this took a while, I had to make the parts flow together and it was challenging. I wrote and rewrote it a few times. Sorry if spacing is off, I tried to fix it as best I could. You’ll want tissues and maybe a snack. It’s a long one. 

SEPTEMBER

“Babe, you don’t have to go. I can go get more beer. You stay here with your friends.” I asked Jeff, who was getting his coat to go on a beer run. Jessica’s party was in full swing and everyone was here. Even Clay Jensen came, to most people’s surprise.

“(Y/N), I’m good. I’ve been drinking Coke all night. I’ll see you in a few. I love you.”

I sighed as I looked up at his beaming face, “okay, fine. I’ll see you in twenty. Drive safe, I love you too.” I kissed him softly and watched as he jogged out to the car to run to Blue Spot. I decided to go off in search of my friends and found them in the kitchen, arguing with Scott and Monty about who should get the last beer.

“Ah, finally. Someone who can break the stalemate. (Y/N), who do you think should get it?” Scott asked me.

“Easy. Me.” I smiled, taking the bottle from the table and opening it.

“But- you… you don’t even like beer.” Layla stuttered.

“I know, but it saves me from watching the four of you argue until Jeff gets back. I’m sure you can last,” I checked my watch, “fourteen minutes without a beer.” The boys groaned and Layla turned to Katie, sighing dramatically. I shook my head as I walked away.

I was alone for a while, just wandering the house. I had seen Clay run out of the party a while ago, followed by Sherri and Hannah a while after that. I played with my necklace, a gift from Jeff for our first anniversary, just people watching, the bottle of Coors still full in my hand. My phone buzzing in my pocket pulled me from my thoughts. “hello?” I asked, not bothering to look at who was calling. I assumed it was Jeff calling to confirm how much beer he needed to get.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N/N)- you- oh fuck.”

“Who is this?”

“I-it’s Clay. (Y/N) you… oh god. I called 911 already. There’s been an accident.” No. No no no. Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say. “J-Jeff.” His voice cracked. I heard sirens in the distance. I felt as though I was frozen. “Th-the police are here; they want to talk to me. They’re calling his parents. Oh god (Y/N/N). I have to go.”

“Clay. Clay wait. What happe-.” I tried to ask. He hung up before I could get any words out. It was almost like I had an out of body experience. I lowered my phone and felt the full bottle fall from my grip, shattering on the floor. No one was around to notice, or at least, I couldn’t see if there was. I had tunnel vision. Jeff… he can’t… no.

I blinked quickly a few times to try and make my vision normal, as well as keeping the welling tears from falling. Need to find sports boy. I couldn’t think of the proper words. Walking back towards the kitchen, I scanned the room for someone in a varsity jacket or a face I could identify as an athlete, hell, I scanned for Monty’s plaid shirt. Something like this should trump the stupid fight we had earlier today. I spotted him over by the fridge, talking to some girl. “Monty.” I said quietly as I approached him. He didn’t hear me. “Monty.” I tried again, a little louder. He still didn’t hear me, or he heard me and chose to ignore it. “Montgomery.” I said louder, my voice cracking and placing a hand on his bicep. He froze for a second.

“One second.” He told the girl he was putting the moves on. I watched him turn to face me. As soon as he saw my face, his mouth closed, and his brow furrowed. “(Y/N), are you okay?” Monty asked me, his eyes softening and his demeanor changing almost immediately. I couldn’t get any words out now that I had found someone to tell. I just shook my head and waved my arms awkwardly. “(Y/N/N), did something happen? What happened?”

I opened my mouth and my voice cracked. It felt like my throat was trying to open around a peach pit. “J-Jeff….” Was all I could say. My face crumpled and my eyes squeezed shut, trying my damnedest to keep from crying or screaming. “He… there was an accident.” Monty’s entire face dropped.

“What kind of accident?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it’s good Monty. We have to… I have to….” I trailed off, trying to find the words to explain that we needed to leave.

“(Y/N) you need to breathe. Let’s go find the guys. Come on.” He said, his face hardening as he pulled me along beside him. I turned to look at the girl he walked away from. She looked royally miffed.

“Scott. Where’s Bryce?” Monty asked his friend. I stood behind him, clutching his shirt tightly to keep myself upright. Had it been any other time, I think he would have minded.

“I don’t know, I think he went upstairs. Why?”

“We need to go.”

Scott looked between Monty and I. “Uh… do you need permission to leave now or something?”

“No Scott. We need to go.” Scott looked at me again and he seemed to register the look on my face as not simply having too much to drink. Monty leaned forward to whisper something to Scott. His eyes widened and he sucked in a deep breath.

“Okay. Uh… I’m good to drive, so you go upstairs and look for Bryce and Justin and whoever else. I’ll take (Y/N) to the car.” I clutched Monty’s shirt tighter.

“(Y/N), you need to let go. I’ll be right back. Go with Scott.” He told me, prying my fingers off his person. I heard myself hum and felt Scott guide me out to the car.

He opened the door and guided me to sit down in the passenger seat. “Do you want some water?” he asked, squatting down to my level. I nodded and he went around to the driver’s side. I turned to watch him root around in his gym bag for a water bottle. He walked back around to me and handed me the fresh bottle. I opened it and took a small sip. He watched me, steadying it when I shook too much. My phone rang again, and I looked down to see who it was. Jeff’s mom was calling. “Hello?” I asked, timidly.

“(Y/N)? Darling, you need to come to the hospital. There was an accident.” She told me, her voice shaking. I could tell she was trying to get the words out without crying.

“I know. Clay called me. We will be there soon.” I looked up as I saw the group of athletes walking out, confused and somber looks on their faces. Scott waved them over. “Okay. We are on our way to the regional hospital. Let one of us know when you get there and we will come down to get you.”

I nodded before realizing that she couldn’t see me. “Mhmm. I will.” I squeaked before hanging up. I felt several dozen eyes on me as I stared at my lap. “They’re going to the regional hospital.” Was all I said as I turned myself forward and shut the door. It was quiet for a few moments before Scott came around and started the car.

Neither of us spoke until we were about halfway to the hospital. I felt my stomach churn the closer we got. “You need to pull over.” I told Scott stiffly.

“You okay (Y/N)?” he asked, his eyes darting to me and back to the road.

“Pull over now.” I ground out, trying to keep from heaving.

“Okay, just a second.” He signalled to pull over and stopped the car. In a matter of seconds, I had the door open and was hunched over on the side of the road, throwing up in the ditch. Diego and Monty pulled over as well when they saw me, and I heard Diego call from the Jeep.

“Is she okay? Or like… she’s okay?”

I groaned. “I’ve got her, you guys go on ahead.” Scott called back. I wiped my mouth and stood up straight, sending Monty a thumbs up. He nodded and merged back into traffic. I walked back to the car, taking a gulp of water, swishing and spitting it on the road.

“We can go.” I said and it was quiet again.

Arriving at the hospital and calling Jeff’s mom was a blur. It was also a blur waiting for the doctor and watching his parents argue that I should be there to hear what was happening. I stared at the wall blankly while I waited for news. Some of the guys whispered around me, others prayed, others like me, stared blankly. Finally, the doctor agreed to let me listen and I walked over at the wave of a nurse. The nurse took me into the small room I remembered being in when I was young, and my grandma had passed.

“Mr. and Mrs. Atkins, Miss (Y/L/N). I am very sorry to have to tell you this, but Jeff passed away at the scene of the accident. I am sorry for your loss.” I closed my eyes as his mom dropped to the floor and screamed. His dad dropped and pulled his distraught wife into his arms. I took a breath and turned to run from the room. I ran down the hall, ignoring the group in the waiting room. “(Y/N), wait.” I heard someone call behind me. I ignored them. I also ignored the footsteps following me. I have to get out of here was running over and over in my head. I stopped running when I got outside and bent over, placing my hands on my knees. I gulped the air, trying to slow my heartrate and put off the impending breakdown.

“(Y/N)?” a voice spoke from behind me. I shook my head. I knew who was talking to me, but I couldn’t make myself speak. “Come here.” Bryce said gently, as though I was a fawn he was trying to approach without spooking. I still couldn’t say anything. His hand gently touched my back and rubbed in circles. I began to stand up and his arms immediately went around my middle to support my weight in the event that I couldn’t stand up. He held me for a few minutes, while I shook and tried not to cry. I noticed Justin standing at the doors with a broken yet menacing look on his face.

“He’s gone.” I whispered quietly into the blond’s shoulder.

“I know. Let’s go back inside, yeah? Get you some water and have someone take you home?” I hummed as he tucked me under his shoulder, supporting my weight.

The group of heartbroken boys were still in the waiting room with Jeff’s parents. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact with them. Monty walked up to Bryce and took me from him.

“I’ll take her home.”

“Stay with her.” Diego told him, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezing. Monty nodded and took his flannel off, wrapping me up in it. I took one last look at his parents before turning and walking away, not daring to think of how I was going to have to begin the grieving process for my boyfriend.

I walked up to the school doors on Monday morning and stood there, just looking at it. I was early so there weren’t many people outside, but those who were, stared at me and whispered to each other. Jeff’s baseball shirt hung off my thin frame and my black yoga pants hugged my curves, hidden by the shirt. It seemed to be bigger than it was a few days ago. “Are you going to go inside, or do you want to cut today?” Monty asked from behind me.

I jumped slightly. “I’ll be there in a minute. I have to be here today.”

“Okay. I’ll wait with you.” He stood beside me quietly until I was ready to walk in. I took a step forward and then another, and another. He fell into step beside me. People stared as I walked in. I guess I should get used to it.Principal Bolan and Mr. Porter were waiting for me at the main office.

“(Y/N), if there is anything the school can do, just let me know and I will handle it.” The principal said. Yeah, sure you will.

“Thank you.” I replied, quietly. He nodded and walked back into his office. The appeasing statement has been made. Let’s not appear to care too much.

“(Y/N), you don’t need to be here today. You’ve suffered a great loss. Your teachers would understand why you weren’t here.” Mr. Porter offered.

I stared at him. Is he serious? “I know you’re trying to help and that’s great. But I do need to be here today.” I explained.

“Why?”

“I heard he was drinking, and she let him get in the car anyway.” A girl I had never met muttered to her friend as she passed me. Monty must have seen my features darken and he placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I gestured to Mr. Porter.

“That is why. I need to get ahead of this. Jeff is-,” I caught myself, “was a wonderful and well-loved young man, but the kids at this school don’t care about that. If I wasn’t here, the rumors would be even worse.”

Mr. Porter nodded; he had been here long enough to know how people were. “Alright, but if you want to talk or decide you need to go home, come let me know.” I nodded at him and together, Monty and I walked to my locker.

“Did he really say, ‘you don’t need to be here today’? Like he actually fucking said that?” I asked.

“Yup. I heard it too.” Monty said, shaking his head. Clay stopped us in the hall, and I tried to smile at him. It came out as more of a grimace.

“Hey Clay. How’re you doing?”

“I don’t know. How are you doing?”

“I changed my shirt this morning. So that’s something I guess.” I shrugged.

“I’m really sorry (Y/N).”

“I know. Me too. Jeff really liked you, you know.”

“Yeah.” Neither of us knew what else to say. “I uh… I’ll see you around?”

“You will. Let me know if,” I paused, “if you want to talk sometime.”

“Okay.” He nodded before making his way to wherever it is that Clay Jensen spends his time. I tried to ignore the whispers as I sighed.

“This day isn’t going to get any easier.” I muttered. Monty shrugged as we walked. No one else really said anything to me as we walked, all of them grieving in their own ways.

“She isn’t left alone today, okay?” I heard Bryce tell the rest of the athletes, who had crowded around my locker. I had to stop myself from speaking up and telling him that I’m not a child and I can take care of myself. Instead, I readjusted my bag on my shoulder.

“Hey Bryce. Guys.” I greeted somberly.

“Hey (Y/N).” Bryce greeted, equally as somberly. He pulled me into a slightly awkward but understandable hug. Bryce hugs people when they aren’t in shock? This is probably one of the strangest interactions I’ve had with Bryce Walker since… ever. I wasn’t sure what to do so I just patted his back gently. He pulled away and the group made room for me to get to my locker.

“You can all stop staring at me any time. It’s kind of creepy.” I said as I gathered my things. “I know this is a hard day for all of us, but that doesn’t mean you need to stare like everyone else.” When I turned back, they were still looking at me. “Seriously, stop. I’m not going to do anything stupid. I will however, go to my stupid physics class and learn about the laws of motion.” I put my textbooks in my bag and began walking away from my friends. When I didn’t hear any of them following, I turned around. “You coming Diego? Hutcher will get all bent out of shape if we are late, even under these circumstances.”

“I guess so, yeah.” He mumbled, confused before quickly catching up with me.

Between the sad looks from teachers, the boys and their girlfriends following me everywhere, and the whispers from students, my patience with today was beginning to wear thin. It was around lunch time when I heard two girls talking to each other. They must not have noticed I was walking past.

“She really seems to be milking this grieving girlfriend thing.”

“Lizzie, it’s been three days, give her a break. I wonder what it was like. Must have been-.” I had finally had enough.

“What what was like? What part would you like to know about? The part where I begged him not to leave? Or when I got a phone call from a kid freaking out? Would you like to know about what it was like gathering all the guy at that party and going to the hospital? Because it turns out a brother dying sobers you up pretty quick.” I paused and looked at their expressions. “No. No you don’t want to know about that. You want to know what it was like listening to his mom scream and cry and beg God to bring her son back. You want to hear about how I haven’t eaten in three days because I’ve been crying so much I can’t keep food down. And how everyone is staring at me and whispering because apparently Jeff Atkins’ death is inconvenient for them.” Before I could continue, I felt arms going around my waist and I was being pulled back.

“Easy there Ticat.” Scott Reed spoke into my ear. I struggled for a moment and he wrapped his arms around my waist tighter. Finally, I relaxed, and he let go. I watched him turn to the girls.

“She lost her boyfriend three fucking days ago. We lost a brother. Have some goddamn respect.” He scoffed and shook his head as he grabbed the bag I dropped and led me towards the door. The girls looked as though he slapped them as we walked away. He passed me his phone as we walked. “Call Monty.” I did as he said and put it on speaker.

“Hello?” Monty answered.

“Hey. I’m taking (Y/N) home.”

“Why? Is she okay?” He asked.

“She is. At least as okay as we can expect. It’s everyone else that’s the problem.” He grumbled.

“What happened?”

“I’ll explain later. Tell Porter she had to go home for me?”

“I will. Keep me posted?”

“Will do. Bye.” He took the phone from my hand and hung up. We had arrived at his car and he seemed to have calmed down a bit. “So, home?” I blinked at him, not totally understanding the question. “Where do you live?” He clarified, slowly.

“Oh uh… just off Lincoln and sixth.” I replied. He nodded and got in the car. I followed suit and stared out the windshield. “That was… something.”

“Yeah well it’s been a long day.”

“I think they’ll be long for a while.”

“Me too.” He replied, sadly. “You don’t want to go home do you?” he asked, suddenly. I was quiet for a while before answering.

“Not really no. My parents are at work and they’ve just been hovering since Monty brought me home. But it’s so quiet.”

“I can stay if you want. I’m not the greatest cook in the world but I can manage soup broth.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

“No. Bryce may be a dick a lot of the time, but he’s right. You shouldn’t be left alone today. And I can guarantee that I am far better company than some of the other guys. We don’t have to talk or anything. If you’re not comfortable with that, I can call Monty back or one of your other, uh… friends?”

“You mean Layla and Katie? They aren’t really my friends. Have you seen or heard from them today at all? Because I haven’t.”

“I haven’t. Why do you hang out with them then?”

“Why do you spend time with Bryce Walker, Scott?”

“Fair point.” He replied, dropping the subject.

We got closer to my house and I spoke again. “It’s the slightly darker grey one up ahead here.”

“As opposed to the slightly lighter grey houses?” Scott joked. It was a really bad joke, but I felt myself start to smile slightly for the first time in days.

“Well, yeah.” I stated, biting the inside of my lip slightly to keep a straight face. He must have caught himself smiling slightly too because he quickly relaxed his face back to the somewhat somber expression, we all wore today.

“Heard that one before?”

“Yeah. Jeff joked about it a lot.” I smiled sadly at the memory. We were silent again as he pulled into my driveway and we walked to the door. Our stuff was arranged neatly by the door and we made our way through the house to the kitchen. Evidently, he wasn’t kidding about the soup thing.

“Okay, where do you keep your pots?” He asked, clapping his hands together.

“Bottom cupboard by the stove.” I pointed. I’m really not hungry and this really isn’t a good idea. He nodded and set to work searching the kitchen for ingredients.

I decided to leave him be as he fell into what was clearly his zone. When I was upstairs, I decided it might be time to have a shower and clean some of the sadness off of me. It doesn’t work like that (Y/N). I shook my head. You think I don’t know that? I just need to do something that feels normal. Once I was showered and changed into a clean sweatshirt and bike shorts, I made my way downstairs. At the sound of my footsteps, Scott looked up. “I made you a sandwich. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want, but it’s there.” I nodded and sat at the island in front of the bowl of hot soup broth. I took a timid sip from my spoon and sighed. This is really good.

“Thank you.” I muttered quietly. He nodded at me as he took a bite of his own sandwich. We ate in silence across from each other. Scott wasn’t lying when he said we didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to. Once our lunch was done, he pulled out a notebook and did some homework at the table while I turned on the tv at a low volume, pretending to be interested in some soap opera that had been on longer than I’d been alive. Just like this morning, I pretended not to notice his not so discreet looks to check on me. He didn’t leave until just before my mom got home from work. We bid each other a slightly awkward goodbye and I breathed a sigh of relief that I could finally be alone for a few minutes.

The next couple of days at school weren’t much better. Bryce was still being… nice, which I found slightly odd. It wasn’t nice in a creepy way or anything like that. He seemed to genuinely be nice. He walked me to my first class since his was next door, keeping a respectable distance between us at all times. If he saw me in the halls, he would wave at me or nod in acknowledgement. At first, I thought he was being weird, but when I talked to Monty about it, he just shrugged. “This might be how he’s choosing to grieve. Focus on being nice to you and making sure you know someone is there.”

“I get that, but its Bryce. Usually when he’s nice to a girl….”

“I know. He’s annoying and says stupid shit. But he’s my best friend. I know him. He’s actually trying to be nice to you. Jeff was his friend.”

I sighed. “Okay. I’m not going to start hanging out with him or anything though. If he’s your best friend, what does that make me?”

“My person or whatever.” He muttered, going back to his geometry problem.

“I knew you paid attention when we watched that.” I muttered as I went back to my biology notes.

The stares weren’t much different, but it seemed like it had started really setting in for people by now. Jeff Atkins, one of their classmates, their idols, their friend, was gone. The snarky whispers stopped, but I wasn’t sure if that was because of my outburst on Monday morning or not. I noticed Hannah Baker watching me at my locker during breaks, but I didn’t pay much mind to it. She’s the girl Clay is in love with and Jeff wanted them to get together sure, but that girl had more going on than met the eye. Jessica and Justin seemed more lovey than usual which sucked to watch but whatever works for them I suppose. Justin and Bryce’s relationship seemed kind of off, but I attributed it to some stupid high school bullshit or having different ways of dealing with death. Diego and I hadn’t ever been super close or friendly at all, but he was friends with Jeff and Monty, so I had been around him. When we stopped to talk in the halls or anything, he talked to me just like he always had. We kept it to small talk and school related topics. I was grateful he wasn’t walking on eggshells and trying not to say the wrong thing.

Scott Reed was the one person I couldn’t wrap my head around though. We were kind of sort of friends. More than acquaintances, but not friends, friends. More, you’re friends with my boyfriend and best friend so that’s something, friends. We had also worked on group projects together in the past. He seemed to be stuck between trying to help me and being scared to talk to me. I would catch him looking at me from his locker but he would look away quickly in the mornings, but then at lunch or when the halls were quiet, he would try to make me smile or laugh. It was very confusing, especially with my head being so clouded by grief. I knew he wasn’t trying to make any moves or anything. It’s probably just the way he’s processing things. Maybe he’s trying to avoid the issue and this is how he wants to do it. We didn’t mention our afternoon at my house on Monday, nor did he insert himself into any grief related outbursts that may or may not have occurred in the last few days. You need to stop thinking so much. This is too much to deal with right now.

** **

I hadn’t retained anything we had talked about in school this week. I was too busy dreading this day. I stared at the classic black dress hanging on the door of my closet. It stared back, mockingly. I was in my room, hair freshly curled and pulled out of my face, neutral makeup on, doing all I could to not think about what my plans for the day were going to be just over a week ago. It was shocking how fast plans could change. Instead of a relaxing walk and maybe a game of catch with my boyfriend before dinner, I was getting dressed for his funeral. I rolled my eyes up to try to keep the tears at bay for just a little longer. A knock at my door redirected my attention. “Hey.” Monty said from the door. He leaned against the door frame, likely wrinkling his black suit.

“Hey.” I replied. I sighed and shook my head.

“Are we getting dressed or are we going to stand here hoping it dresses you on its own?” he asked, stepping into my room.

“I don’t know.”

“Your folks are downstairs waiting for you.”

“That’s good.”

“Do you want a drink?” I turned around to face him as he pulled a silver flask out of his inside jacket pocket.

“No. Need to be sober for this.”

He nodded and took a swig of whatever it contained. Today wasn’t the day to argue with him about drinking before eleven. “Do you need help with the dress or are you good?”

“I think I’ll need you to zip it up.” I muttered, motioning for him to sit on my bed as I took the dress off its hanger, going into my closet to change. I didn’t look in the mirror as I passed it on the way to my bed. He zipped it up deftly. I again, decided not to make a comment about how he wasn’t usually zipping dresses up.With that taken care of, I slipped on my black pumps and turned around to look in the mirror. “Do I look okay Monty?” I asked, pulling on my sleeves slightly, trying to cover up a little more. He placed his hand on mine to stop me.

“You look beautiful (Y/N). Stop fiddling with it and let’s go downstairs.”

“I don’t want to.” I replied, my voice cracking. Don’t cry. Do not cry.

“I know. But we need to.” He sighed. “Everyone will be there. If it makes you feel better, I can even talk to the Jensen kid.”

“Clay. And I don’t know if it would honestly.” Before we went downstairs, I asked him, “can I take you up on your offer of flask juice?”

“Not right now. You said you have to stay sober for this.”

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time today and walked downstairs, clutching the railing as I went so that I didn’t topple over.

Jeff’s parents asked if I wanted to come early so I could have some alone time to say goodbye to Jeff. When we arrived at the church, his parents, the Priest, and the funeral director met us out front. Jeff’s dad pulled me into a tight hug and whispered apologies in my ear. I rubbed his back softly and apologised back. His mom was quick to pull me in as well. “I’ll always consider you akin to a daughter, (Y/N).” She whispered. I had to fight back tears when she squeezed tighter before letting me go.

“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Father Carmichael said as he took my hand gently. They were warmer than I expected for a man his age.

“Thank you.” I mumbled. The sentiment was shared by the funeral director and I was ushered off to the waiting hearse. The back door was opened, and I stared at the shiny walnut casket filling the space. It almost didn’t believe what I was seeing. It didn’t seem real. I placed a hand on the varnished wood, noting how smooth it felt.

“This can’t be happening.” I muttered softly. I paused to wait for a response I knew would never come. “We promised each other we would have forever.” There was more I wanted to say but the tears were becoming impossible to stop. I hoped that he knew everything I wanted to say already. I wiped my tears quickly before turning around and waiting for the pallbearers to arrive. We were ushered into the church before other people arrived.

“(Y/N), would you like to sit with the family? You practically are to us.” Jeff’s mom asked as my parents went to get some water.

“Umm,” I paused and turned to Monty. He shrugged and nodded. “I guess that would be okay.” I replied, not completely sure of my answer.

“Alright sweetie.” She hugged me again and turned as the pallbearers began arriving. I watched on as the funeral director explained procedure to them. His parents and I were led out of the church once again to follow the casket into the chapel.

The church was packed full. I could hear the quiet loud of a large group chattering with one another at the door. I quickly shut the door on the original idea of a large gathering in this little church. Oh, how that day would have been so different than today. My dad wouldn’t already be seated inside, I wouldn’t be wearing black, Jeff would be standing at the alter instead of…. Suddenly we were watching the group of young men carry the heavy casket up the church steps. His cousins were trying to keep their tears in but couldn’t help the few that slid out. His uncle had tears streaming down his face. I took a deep breath and began following his mom and dad into the church. When I got to the doors leading to the chapel, I froze. I couldn’t make my feet move. Once again, I was bombarded with what should have been. I could feel people’s eyes on me but try as I might, I simply could not move. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement coming around the last pew. Scott was standing at my side in a moment.

“One foot in front of the other.” He muttered as he held his arm out slightly. I grasped it, probably too tightly, but he didn’t even flinch. Together, he walked me towards the alter. I didn’t bother to think about what people would say about it. People here weren’t that callous. I took my seat and took a deep breath as he quickly made his way back to his seat.

Father Carmichael performed a wonderful service for Jeff. I felt tears streaming down my face the whole time. When it was over, I excused myself to the washroom to fix my makeup and have a moment to myself. As expected, Monty was waiting for me when I was done. Not as expected, was the addition of Scott waiting with him. I cleared my throat and pointed to my face. “You’re good.” Monty said, after a quick once over.

“Okay.” I nodded. I turned my attention to Scott. “um… thank you. For what you did in there.” I told him, awkwardly.

“It was no problem. That couldn’t have been easy.” He said. I shook my head. It wasn’t.

“Are we going to Jeff’s after this?” Monty asked me. I paused. I should. I really should go. I just don’t know if I can.

“I don’t… know?” I hesitated.

“You could show up for a few minutes, make a quick round, and say you need to be alone.” Scott suggested. I looked up at him. Could I really do that?

“That’s not actually a bad idea.” Monty replied, rubbing his jaw in thought. “We could go to the docks afterwards.”

“Flask empty yet?” I asked.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). We are in a church.” He gasped, scandalously.

“I don’t mean for now. And that’s rich coming from you. When was the last time you cracked open your Bible Montgomery?” He was silent and avoided eye contact. “Exactly.”

“It’s not. But it’s not like we can’t refill it if we need to.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” I nodded. I put on another brave face as we walked out of the church on the way to the grave site to lay Jeff to rest.

We made a quick appearance at the house, during which Bryce gave me another sad hug and I smiled awkwardly at people when they gave me the look I had become so familiar with in the last week. I was able to excuse myself and leave quietly with Monty and Scott in tow. The three of us made our way to the docks, after a quick stop at my place for a flask refill and extra bottle of vodka. I sat on the railing, staring out at the ocean, blankly. My companions flanked me on either side. The metal flask was passed silently between us until it was decided that I was “thoroughly fucked up” as Monty put it. The burn of the alcohol had stopped bothering me long before that.

“I cannot deny that statement.” I said, watching the waves.

“Ready to go home then (Y/N/N)?”

I turned my head to face him with wide eyes, “no. What do you think my parents would say if I showed up at home drunk?”

“Today?” Scott asked.

“I think, given the day you’ve had, they would understand. Plus, you were hanging out with me so they know you’re safe.” Monty shrugged.

“It’s the middle of the day. And you have been drinking since before eleven. There is no way you can drive right now.” I closed my eyes to stop the spinning in my head.

“I can drive. I haven’t had that much to drink.” Scott offered. It was true. He spent most of his time with the flask, holding it in his hand.

“See? Scott can drive. It’ll be fine. But if you scratch my car, I’ll beat you.” Monty threatened.

“Sure, you will Monty.” Scott laughed. We spent the rest of the day driving around town until I sobered up enough to go home, where I fell asleep as soon as I laid on my bed.

OCTOBER/NOVEMBER

The rest of September and much of October went by in a blur. I often found myself wondering if this was going to be my life now. Was I always going to be the girl whose boyfriend died? The staring stopped after a few weeks. And a couple of weeks after that, people started to move on. It was deemed socially acceptable for everyone else to continue living their lives. Sheri Holland stopped making weird eye contact with me. I wonder what that is about. Clay had seemed to stop openly pining over Hannah Baker. The guys were able to find ways to fill their time without being upset about Jeff. Everything was so… normal. The only person who wasn’t allowed to move on, it seemed, was me.

Everything was normal. Until Hannah Baker’s suicide. In the span of two months, Liberty had lost two students. Being a year older than her, we seemed to be more removed from the situation. It was still sad though. Especially when I watched how it was impacting Clay Jensen. Jeff had taken the boy under his wing while he was being tutored. I had asked him about it one night while we were on a date. Jeff had replied in his usual, happy go lucky glass half full tone, that “Clay is helping me with my grades and I’m helping him with Hannah. They’re good for each other.” I smiled fondly at the memory. Things were so much simpler then. People still looked at me in the halls. They still whispered when I passed. It became easier to ignore them. The drunk driving posters which had upset me so much when they were posted because I knew that Jeff wasn’t drinking that night, were replaced with suicide prevention posters. For the majority of my fellow seniors, Hannah Baker was just a girl. For me, she was just a girl. A girl who my late boyfriend tried to set up with his friend. It was tragic. But in my mind, it paled in comparison to the tragedy I had experienced only a month earlier.

Eventually, everyone else had gone back to normal. Except for Scott Reed. We had never really been friends. I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. And while I appreciated what he did for me, both at school and at the funeral, we didn’t talk about it. He still didn’t really say a whole lot to me. Yet somehow, he was always just… there. I would catch him watching me. Or I would notice his ears perk up when I was mentioned as the guys passed me in the halls. Montgomery of all people even noticed. “You know, Scott was asking about you at practice the other day. What’s going on there (Y/N/N)?” He mentioned to me in the library one day. I merely shrugged and waved it off.

“He hasn’t really talked to me, so I don’t know.”

**

He was watching me again. His eyes followed me as I grabbed a book for my paper in the library. Stare at me any harder and you might set me on fire. Rolling my eyes, I turned and plastered on my best and brightest smile. Scott looked down and suddenly became very interested in his own book when he noticed me walking towards him. I pulled out the chair across from him and leaned in. “What’s your deal, Scott?”

“My deal?” he said into his book.

“Why are you staring at me? And why do you act like you aren’t?”

“I don’t stare at you (Y/N).”

“Then what do you call watching someone from across the hall and across rooms? Hmmm?”

“I uh… don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Monty said you’ve been asking about me.”

He looked up. “He did?”

“Yeah. So, I’ll ask again, what is your deal?”

“Nothing.” He pushed his book aside.

“Sure. Whatever.” I huffed. Pulling out my books, I got comfortable. I’m already sitting here. Might as well take advantage. We were quiet for a while. He was trying not to watch me study. This is the most normal thing I’ve experienced in at least the last month.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh.”

“He was my friend (Y/N).”

“I know. Thank you. For what you did for me. I realized I never said it before.”

“No problem.” The bell rang. Packing up our stuff, we wordlessly bid each other goodbye and went our separate ways.

That day in the library wasn’t the only time Scott and I studied together after that. One of us would find the other sitting alone at a table or looking for something in an aisle. Our interactions were mostly wordless. A nod here and there when we sat down. Maybe the odd whispered question about homework. A shared chuckle about something we read. We never talked about Jeff again though. It was too hard. Still too fresh for both of us.

Around the middle of November, our silent study sessions began to change. They got a little less quiet. It was like we were walking on soft dirt ground rather than eggshells. We started bringing snacks. “What’s in the bag today Har?”

“Mini pancakes, chocolate chips, and banana protein bites.” I said, as I opened the containers. I set them in the middle of the table so we could both reach. We were studying quietly, both of us focused on our respective assignments. I could feel his eyes on me.

“I thought we were past this Scotty.” I muttered, smiling into my book. It was Thursday. I did English homework in the library on Thursdays.

“Old habits and all.”

“Mhmm. Right.”

“Actually (Y/N)?”

“Yes Scott?”

“Did you want to grab a coffee at Monet’s or something later?” I stopped writing. His question caught me off guard. “As friends, obviously.” He added when he noticed my hesitation.

“Sure. Say 4:30?”

“4:30 works.”

“Okay.”

I met Scott at Monet’s just after 4:30. We had both gotten stuck behind the same accident. He held the door open for me and even conceded when I suggested we pay separately since it wasn’t a date. I got a triple americano with cream and he got a drip coffee with milk.

“It’s like quarter to five in the afternoon (Y/N).”

“I know. But this is my order.” Jeff did the same thing.

“I’m not judging.”

“It seems like you’re judging a little.” I smiled.

“Swear I’m not.” He chuckled. I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. We sat at an open booth near the coffee bar. It was far enough away from the table Jeff and I used to sit at that it felt okay to sit at.

Neither of us really knew where to start in a conversation. The ten minutes of silence we sat in, made it exceedingly clear that all we really had in common was Jeff and some shared classes. I decided to break the ice. “Aside from football, baseball, and making soup, what else do you like to do for fun?”

“Video games but I don’t think that’s the answer you’re looking for. Hmm. I like driving into the city to go to the movie theater and seeing whatever is playing next.”

“No, it wasn’t. Expected that answer. Random movies sounds cool.”

“Yeah. What about you?”

“I volunteer at the local animal shelter. What’s the weirdest movie you’ve ever seen doing that?”

“Central Intelligence, easy. It came out last year. It wasn’t a bad movie exactly. The Rock and Kevin Hart were in it. Just not my thing.”

“Huh. I heard about that one. My cousin went to see it. She didn’t like it much either.”

“Glad to know I’m not alone. What do you do at the shelter?”

“Oh, you know, walk the dogs and puppies. Pet the cats. Clean up the odd accident. Aside from that last one, it’s pretty nice. It’s the best when you see a friend who’s been there for a while or longer, finally get their forever family and forever home.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that like?”

“It’s hard to describe. Most of the dogs get this smile and almost are able to breathe normally again. The cats get cozy in their carriers or their box. It’s really adorable. They’re content.”

“That sounds like it’s really rewarding.”

“It is. You could swing by sometime if you want. See the animals.”

He seemed skeptical and I was worried I had overstepped. I know it’s been a while since I’ve dated, but this is just as friends. So I shouldn’t be worried about overstepping. “Are you sure that’s okay? Like you’re allowed to do that?” Oh, I see. That’s a relief.

“For sure. It gives them a chance to socialize. Don’t worry, the dogs and cats that have issues with people aren’t ready to be put on the adoption list or in the adoption section until they’re able to be around people safely. Any interaction with strangers is beneficial too so they aren’t as freaked when people come to look at them to potentially adopt. Plus, who doesn’t love to play with puppies and kittens?”

He laughed heartily. “I’ll think about it. Might have to take you up on your offer. What about the other animals?”

“Oh, I’m not really comfortable handling the birds and stuff so I kind of stay away from there. It’s not a problem for the shelter. They don’t want you to be uncomfortable or afraid.”

“That makes sense. You can tag along for a random movie sometime if you want.”

It was my turn to be slightly taken aback. “I’ll think about it. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

“Did you finish that already?” He nodded towards my now empty mug.

“Yes. It was delicious.”

Scott chuckled to himself softly. We still weren’t sure what to talk about, because we didn’t know what we had in common aside from Jeff and school. Somehow, we found things to talk about and the hour we expected turned into two. He looked at his watch. “My folks are expecting me for dinner in approximately no minutes. I should get going.” I checked my phone and my brows rose.

“I should get going too. Before they send the cavalry to find me.”

“Library tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure Scott. I’ll see you there.” On my way home, I realized that for the first time in months, I hardly thought about Jeff this afternoon.

Our study sessions changed again after our not a date just friends’ coffee. Things were less awkward, and it seemed like we had found our footing for the most part. We talked to each other in the halls more and Scott had finally stopped watching me like a hawk. We were even cracking jokes with each other. He had begun treating me like everyone else was. Like I wasn’t going to break if he or someone else said the wrong thing. Like I was (Y/N) and not the girl whose boyfriend died.

DECEMBER

I arrived at school later than usual on a Tuesday morning. It had been a little under three weeks since our coffee not date. I immediately noticed Scott at his locker. His bag was slung over one shoulder and he was wearing his varsity jacket. He was talking to Mike. Mike was a senior in my Spanish class. I didn’t really know him all that well outside of that. I didn’t realize they were friends. When I walked past his locker, I overheard them talking about me.

“Why don’t you go for it and ask her?”

“I don’t know man. She’s really great and all but….”

“She was Jeff’s girlfriend. I get it.”

“He was my friend. I don’t want to overstep.”

“I know.” Mike said. I wanted to hear more of what they were saying so I bent down and undid the heel strap on my wedges. I fiddled with it while they talked. “This is going to sound horrible. I realize that so don’t hate me. I miss him as much as the next guy. I really do. But… Jeff isn’t here anymore, Scott. He’s gone.” You’re right Mike. That is horrible. “There isn’t really a line to overstep. It’s not like anyone can do anything to fix it. It just… is.”

“But do I want to be the guy who asks his dead friend’s girlfriend on a date?” A date? My cheeks flared. I couldn’t say that the idea hadn’t crossed my mind that Scott was an option. I had just felt absolutely terrible for it as soon as I did.

“Maybe you need to be. Maybe that could help both of you.”

“Help us what Mike?” Scott asked, the unease clear in his tone.

“Help you move…” Mike paused, “on isn’t the right word. Forward? That sounds better. Help you move forward. She needs someone and from what I’ve seen, she has Monty, those two girls who basically stopped talking to her after Jeff died, a couple of randoms she doesn’t seem to like that much, the baseball team-but it seems like they keep her around out of pity. And you. She has you.”

“And how would asking her on a date help me?”

“You have Monty, Charlie, and the baseball team. You think I think you like the rest of the team?”

“No.” He admitted.

“Exactly. And you have her. Jeff was your friend. He was her boyfriend. And he died. You both need someone to get through that. Because going through it when you feel like you’re alone, sucks. Besides, (Y/N) doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to stop being friends with someone if they ask her out and she isn’t interested in that. So, either way, she won’t not be in your life.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Course I am. Now, go. Go shoot your shot. I gotta get to math.”

My eyes widened when their conversation ended abruptly like that. I wasn’t prepared. Quickly, I stood and sped off to my own locker. I had barely had time to open it and pretend to look for something before Scott was behind me. “Hey Ticat.”

“Oh, uh. Hey Scott.”

“Whatcha looking for?”

“Book for English.”

“Cool, cool.”

“Mhmm.” Oh my God this is awkward. Please don’t ask. I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. Someone pulled my attention away before Scott could say anything else.

“(Y/N)!”

“What?”

“Monty and Alex just got into it in the parking lot. You have to come see this.” Once again this morning, my eyes widened. They’ll probably stick like this if it happens again today.

“I’ll be right there.” I turned to Scott, abandoning my bogus search, “I uh… I need to go take care of that. I don’t know if I’ll be able to study today.” Or tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.

“No problem. Go. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, text me.” I called as I ran off.

I skipped our study sessions for the next week and I was cautious with our texts. It was like we were back at the beginning of our friendship. Could you even call it a friendship? Well, technically Friday wasn’t skipping. I had a doctor’s appointment. Scott didn’t appear to pick up on the change though. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was oblivious, like most other boys, or if he was just as freaked out as I was by the idea of dating. I used the time in the week that I should have been studying and would have been spending with Scott, to think about him. I thought about how easy our conversations had become and how comfortable and normal I felt with him. The way his piercing blue eye shone when he laughed. Or the way they narrowed slightly when he was silently judging some stupid comment his friends made. About how white his teeth were. The way he smiled when he finished a difficult homework problem. About how soft his hair looked. Oh dear. I’ve got it bad.

I texted Scott the next morning. Library this afternoon? He answered about half an hour later, while I was eating breakfast.

Sure. I’ll save you a seat.

Cool. I have leftover chocolate chip cookies.

In free period, I found Scott at a table in the corner of the library. His stuff was spread out on what looked like exactly half of it. There was a clear divide of where his stuff ended and where the free area was. Did he save half of the table for me? He looked up from his notes when I sat down. “Hey Ticat.”

“Hey Scotty. How’s the,” I paused and looked at his notes, “calculus coming?”

“It’s coming. I have a test tomorrow and I have no idea how I’m going to pass.”

“I can try to help you?”

“I’ll see how far I can get with this and go from there?”

“Of course.” I pulled out my geography notes and the cookies. We easily fell back into our usual silent study. It was like I hadn’t been bailing on him for a week.

When the bell rang, we packed up our belongings and snuck sly glances at each other.

“Walk you to class?”

“Sure.” I nodded and threw my book bag over my shoulder.

“How have you been this week?”

“You know. Busy.”

“Yeah. How was the doctor?”

“Good. I got a clean bill of health.”

“That’s good.” I cleared my throat, awkwardly. What happened to the way things were last week? “Hey (Y/N). Uh, did you want to maybe see a movie sometime?”

“A random see what’s playing next, movie?”

“Sure. Or, you know. You could pick a movie and we could see that.”

“Scott?” I stopped walking and stepped to the side of the hall.

“Yeah?”

“Are you trying to ask me out?”

“What would you say if I was?” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“I’d say I thought you would be much smoother and more direct. And also, I think I would like that.”

“Saturday afternoon?”

“Sure. Saturday works for me.”

“Awesome.” He stepped back into the crowded hall and walked me to class. Maybe Mike is right. Maybe this will be good for us. For me.

Saturday morning, I got up early to get ready. We had decided he would be at my place at 12:30. Since it had been so long since I had been on a first date and… and my last date had been with Jeff, I was more than a little anxious. I wasn’t sure what to wear. I wasn’t sure how to do my hair. I couldn’t call anyone to ask because I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell people I was going on a date. Staring at my closet didn’t really help the indecision. Jeans? Do people wear jeans on a first date? I pulled a few pairs out. A skirt is too formal. And I don’t want to make the wrong impression. Shirt? I need to wear a shirt. Flicking through the hangers, I picked a couple of choices that were nice but not too nice. Options in hand, I laid them out on the bed. The jeans were easy to pare down to one choice. I went with a comfortable pair of Levi’s. Again, they were nice, but not too nice. A safe choice. I ended up choosing a striped high neck tank top and grabbed a black cardigan to wear on top. Pulling a pair of flats out, I slipped them on and fixed my hair. I side braided it quickly and pulled a few pieces out to frame my face. It looked effortless. Presentable and like I thought about it, yes. But still effortless, nonetheless.

The doorbell rang just before 12:30. “I’ll get it!” I called out to my parents in the other room.

“K.” Mom responded. I hopped over to the door. Scott was standing on my porch with his hands in his pocket. His usual varsity jacket was traded for a simple grey hoodie.

“Hey (Y/N).”

“Hey Scott. Just let me grab my purse and we can head out?”

“Sure.” Purse in hand, Scott and I walked out to his car. He opened the door for me, and I smiled shyly at him. Why are you acting so shy? It’s Scott Reed. It’s not like you’ve never spoken to him before. Oh, I don’t know? Maybe because I’m going on a date with him?

“You look… really pretty.”

I blushed and looked down briefly. “Thank you. I wasn’t really sure what to wear, to be honest. You look pretty too.” I realized what I said, as soon as the words left my mouth. I can’t believe I just said that. Oh, my word. Scott burst out laughing. “Uh. I mean. Handsome. You look handsome. Very put together.”

“No, no. I’ll take pretty. I’m confident enough in my manhood that it’s a compliment. Not every day a girl calls me pretty. Let alone one I’m interested in.”

“Trust me, it happens. It might not be to your face. But it does happen.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” We were quiet for a time. My face was still pink from embarrassment. “Did you have any particular movie in mind?”

“No, not really. I thought we could give your whatever movie is next thing a go?”

“I like the way you think. As long as it isn’t 2001. Because there isn’t a more boring film in existence.”

“Oh my God, I know right? I had to see it with my cousin once for ‘family bonding time’ and I fell asleep like twice.”

“Your family does bonding time too?”

“Ugh. You don’t even want to know.” I sighed dramatically.

“Tell me about it next time?” Woah. Next time? That… doesn’t actually sound that bad.

“Next time? We haven’t even gotten through a movie together and you’re already talking about next time?”

“Well- I- uh- we-.”

“Scott. Relax. Ask me again on the way home?”

“Okay.” He sounded relived.

When we arrived at the Crestmont, the ticket person was staring blankly out the booth’s window. The joys of the Saturday afternoon shift, I guess. “Welcome to the Crestmont.”

“Hi. How are you?” Scott asked the boy. His name tag read Andrew.

“Good. And you guys?”

“Good.” We answered together.

“How can I help you?”

“Can we get two tickets to whatever is playing next?”

“Two tickets to Ferdinand in not 3D. That’ll be ten dollars please.” Scott handed him the cash and I took the tickets. “Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you.” I said.

Inside, the concession worker greeted us in a much kinder tone than the ticketer. “Any chance you’ll let me pay for the snacks?”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, come on Scotty, you drove and paid for tickets. The least you could do is let me pay for snacks.”

“No, I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it Ticat.”

“Please?” I looked at him with my best puppy dog eyes. I could see the resolve begin to crack. “Pretty please?”

“Ugh. Fine. You can buy the snacks.” He caved, dramatically.

“Yay.” I said, softly. The cashier looked like she was trying not to laugh but she was smiling. “Hi. Can I get a pack of gummy bears and a medium Cherry Coke, please?” I turned to Scott, “are we sharing popcorn? I don’t really eat very much.”

“That sounds good.”

“Okay. And a large popcorn. And whatever he would like.”

“Can I get a pack of sour patch kids and a medium orange Fanta, please?”

“Coming right up.” I paid her and caught Scott grimacing in the corner of my eye. The puppy dog eyes always work. With our snacks in hand, we found some decent seats, given the time of day we were there. The movie was adorable. While it was technically for children, I found it to be incredibly heartwarming. Somewhere around thirty minutes into the film, our hands found each other on the shared armrest. We turned and smiled shyly at each other.

After the movie was done, we walked back to his car, hand in hand. It felt strange but also kind of nice. “I’m getting snacks next time, if I have to steal your wallet.”

“Scott Reed, commit a crime? Why I never.”

“You’d get it back after the movie.”

“Fine. But I thought next time was when I got to bore you with family bonding time stories.”

“Only because I get to bore you with mine. And fine. Then the third date.”

“It’s a date.”

JANUARY

Scott and I had been dating for about a month by now. We were keeping it on the down low. I wasn’t ready to announce to people that I was no longer the sad, grieving, heartbroken girl who was destined to be alone that they thought I should be. Scott understood that. As far as anyone at school was concerned, Scott and I were just friends. We had already been studying together so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that we were still doing that. They must have missed all the coy or longing glances we shot each other. If anyone saw us together outside of school, they assumed we were just helping each other through Jeff’s death.

Scott and I were on a date at Monet’s. It was a Sunday afternoon. It was abuzz with patrons looking for an afternoon pick me up after church or brunch. But to us, it may as well have been empty. We were still in that ‘we are the only two people who exist when we are together’ stage. Scott had just gotten back from ordering us a couple of refills. He had memorized my order already. I thought it was the sweetest thing. “So, we’ve never really talked about it but,” he paused. Oh no. Please don’t ask about Jeff. I’m not ready to get into all of that. And I don’t want to do it in public. I’m going to cry. I know I will. “you and Monty seem pretty close. What’s the story there?” Oh, that’s it? Just Montgomery? Phew.

“Not really much of a story. We grew up next door to each other before my parents moved across town in eighth grade. His family moved in about a year after mine did. I kind of took him under my wing, especially as we got older. There weren’t many kids our age in the neighbourhood. Or at least, none our moms would be okay with us spending time around. So, we had each other.”

“Interesting. He never mentioned it.”

“Well, he likes to keep his home life… private. Or….” I paused, unsure of how much Scott knew. It wasn’t my place to air that information unless necessary. Which, if you ask Monty, was never.

“As private as he can when his dad is his dad.”

“You know?”

“Yeah. He’s crashed on my couch a few times. And it’s kind of hard not to notice the bruises.”

“Yeah. Unless you’re and authority figure at school in this town apparently.” I muttered, bitterly. Scott scoffed in agreement.

“Your parents never…?”

“Offered to help? Of course, they did. He always refused. And as long as he knew he could escape to our place and be safe, they felt it ‘wasn’t their place to interfere’.” I rolled my eyes.

“I see.” He nodded, rolling his eyes too. “My parents are the same way. Give the kid a safe place for the night, some breakfast in the morning, and send him on his way.” I nodded.

“Anyway, yeah. We grew up together. Even though we are a year apart, it never really affected our friendship. Things were a little harder for a while after we moved. But that only lasted a few weeks. Everything went back to normal soon enough.”

“Cool. It’s good that he has you. The other guys….”

“Can be terrible excuses for human beings?” Scott laughed and smirked into his cup with a raise of his brows.

“Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

“You know, it’s weird. Because I saw it from the outside looking in, in freshman year. And then when Jeff and I started dating in sophomore year, I got to see it from the inside to a degree. I never understood how Jeff did it. Or how you do it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well. You and Jeff are so… good. Like inherently good. I get the teammates and ‘you’re like family’ thing. But you guys are so different from the rest of them. And I see it with Monty too. Because I see the him that he doesn’t want the guys to see. The decent him. But he fits better I guess because I know he can have his, let’s call them moments. I never understood how you could stand by and watch it. I’m not trying to attack you or anything. Just so we are clear.”

“No, no I know. I guess… I guess it’s because you don’t want to be the odd guy out. Even though Jeff never said or did anything, he was still looked at like a brother. He was able to stay in the background with all of it and almost be the glue that kept the team from falling into complete debauchery. He gave us a shred of decency. So, everyone else had something to look to. Whether they always listened to the ‘Atkins Voice of Reason’ or not is a different story. I learned a lot from him and now it’s my turn to be the voice of reason. It’s a fine line and it can be hard to walk sometimes. But someone has to.”

“I guess that makes sense.” I nodded. We spent a little longer talking about lighter topics before parting ways. We snuck a few kisses in the alley beside the building first though.

FEBRUARY

Since we had started dating, Scott had come by the animal shelter a few times to help out. He said it was to see me. I saw right through his lies. He mostly just wanted to play with puppies for a few hours. I didn’t blame him though. I would do the same thing. He surprised me on a Wednesday evening. I came back into the shelter from a walk with a German shepherd and a rottweiler. It was a long one, so they were happy to be back so they could lounge around and beg for attention. When I entered the kennels, Scott was sitting in the middle of the puppy room, surrounded by a puddle of puppies. He was being attacked by fluff. One of the labs, Daisy, was trying to scale his chest to lick his face. A terrier mix, appropriately named Jack, was trying to get his attention by gnawing on his hand. He was giggling and had the absolute brightest smile on his face. A loud bark tore my attention away from him. The rottweiler was apparently upset that I wasn’t paying attention to him. “Oh, I’m sorry Rascal. Did you need something? Do you need some attention?” I cooed and reached out to rub his head.

“Need some company? My shift is over.” I asked as I walked into the room and shut the door firmly behind me.

“Always. How was your evening?”

“It was good. Only had to deal with a few accidents. How was practice.”

“It was alright. We had more than a few accidents.” He chuckled. Daisy had appeared to have managed the climb and was cuddled against Scott’s chest.

“I see you’ve made a new friend.”

“It looks like I have. She’s very cute. Think I could convince mom and dad to let me bring her home?”

“With you going off to college next year? I don’t think so.”

“Damn. At least that one has stopped trying to eat me.” He nodded towards Jack. He was curled up in a ball in his lap, sound asleep. The rest of the puppies were either sleeping now or trying to get attention from me. I shared the pets and love as equally as I could.

“Yeah. He hasn’t learned all of his manners yet. Eating people is not the most polite thing to do when you’re trying to get adopted.” We laughed quietly together. After another half hour, it was time to call it a night and head home.

A couple of Sundays after the puppy puddle, I decided I was ready to take a big step. I was finally ready to go and see Jeff’s grave with Scott. I had been on my own before and it had been hard. I would sit and talk to him for hours. I couldn’t tell him about Scott though. I felt like we had to go together to do that. Depending on what you believe, he probably already knew about us. But I wanted to tell him anyway.

I called Scott that morning. “Hey. Are you busy later?”

“Hey Ticat. No, I’m not. Why? Something on your mind?”

“Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to go to Jeff’s grave with me today. Tell him about us?”

“Are you ready for that?”

“I think so. It’s time. I feel like it’s time for him to know. I need to tell him, but I don’t want to do it alone.”

“Of course, (Y/N). I’ll pick you up at one?”

“Okay.”

I decided to wear a skirt and a flowy top today. It was a nice day out. Scott picked me up and we stopped at the florist for some flowers. Jeff always got me purple tulips, so I grabbed a bouquet of them to leave on his headstone. At the cemetery, I walked hand in hand with Scott. We were both silent as we wandered through the maze of people’s final resting places. When we passed Hannah Baker’s grave, I took a single flower out of the bunch and placed it on her headstone.

It was both so long and yet much too fast before we were standing at the foot of Jeff’s grave. I neatly placed the flowers on the base of his headstone. Someone must have been by to visit recently because there was a worn-out baseball cap hanging off the corner. I could feel Scott’s eyes on me as I sat down and smoothed out my skirt. Since I normally came alone, I wasn’t really sure where to begin or what to say. He sat down beside me but didn’t reach out to take my hand. He was letting me do everything in my own time.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, wherever you are. But I’m choosing to believe you can.” Scott started after I hadn’t said anything. “I miss you. Everyone misses you. Coach Rick is still the same hard ass he’s been. We are hanging your jersey before our season opener. There’s some argument about if it should just be the team or if we should do it at the pep rally. I think you would want it to just be us.”

“Mrs. Davidson finally stopped reading out loud to us in Literature this week. Remember how she would just go on, and on, and on about the smallest, most insignificant details? And we don’t have to listen to her boring, monotone voice read every class now.”

“We have a chance at making state again this year. It won’t feel the same without you though. The guys are going a little crazy but I’m keeping things together. I think (Y/N) being around helps though. She really is amazing man. You have no idea how lucky you were to be with her. Or maybe you do. With the way you paraded her around like she was your pride and joy.”

“We really had something special. And I wish you were still here to keep sharing it with me. But you aren’t. And eventually, that will be more okay. And it will hurt less. But for now, it sucks. And it hurts. But I’ve started learning how to get through it. And I have help.” I reached out to take Scott’s hand in mine. He squeezed it. “Scott has been there for me every step of the way. Even the times when I wouldn’t be there for me if I were him. He’s seen it all. Heck, he’s seen me puking on the side of the road.”

“Or getting piss drunk at the docks.” I pushed him lightly.

“Yes. And he’s shown me that even though it hurts, I can let someone in again. I can be happy again. We’ve been together for a couple of months now. It’s harder some days than others. But he’s always there for me, no matter what. I understand why you liked him so much. He makes it hard not to. I see parts of you in him and it makes me smile on the hard days.” I had to pause because I was getting choked up.

“I see why you loved her so much. She makes it hard not to. She’s kind and smart and selfless. Even when she doesn’t need to be, she is. I wish I didn’t have to be, because you should still be here, but I am so thankful that I have the privilege of being with her. I hope you know that I will take care of her and I work every day to make her feel as loved and important as you made her feel. Our story can’t compare to yours, but I hope it makes you proud.” My tears had started to fall, and Scott pulled me into his lap. I cried into his shoulder. This was so much harder than I thought it would be. I miss Jeff. When my tears were under control, I looked at Scott for a moment. I looked back at Jeff’s headstone and was silent for a while. I was the first to stand. Brushing the dirt off my skirt, I reached out for Scott’s hand. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I moved the ball cap on top of the flower stems so it wouldn’t blow off in the wind.

“I love you.” I whispered. Turning around, Scott and I walked back to the car silently and drove home in somber, yet comforting silence.

MARCH

I was asleep on Scott’s chest when my phone began buzzing on the bed beside me. I slowly woke up and groggily searched for the unexpected noise. “Hello?” I whispered; my voice thick with sleep.

“(Y/N)?” Monty’s voice came through the other end of the line. He sounded like he was in immense pain. I sat up slowly, so I didn’t wake Scott.

“Monty, what’s wrong?”

“My arm. It really hurts. My old man. I, fuck, I don’t think I can drive. Can you come help me?”

“Uh…” I paused, looking at the man sleeping soundly beside me. “Yeah. Give me fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” He said before he hung up.

I noted the time before waking Scott. It was just after one in the morning. “Scott.” I whispered, shaking him slightly. He grunted in response. “Scott, wake up for a second.” I urged again.

“Hmm? Wha’s goin’ on?” he mumbled as he woke up.

“I need to go take care of something. I don’t know when I’ll be back. You can stay here and go back to sleep. If I’m not back when you wake up, you can go home or you can stay here. If you stay there is cereal in the cupboard, and K-cups under the Keurig. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay (Y/N).” He muttered, already falling back asleep.

After quickly changing into a clean shirt and sweatpants, I ran downstairs. I left Scott a note on my dresser so he wouldn’t be too confused if he didn’t remember my telling him goodbye. I pulled up in front of Monty’s house and we drove silently to the hospital. I really hate it here. “What are we telling them this time?” I asked after I paid for parking.

“Sex?”

I blinked at him slowly. “What the hell kind of sex results in a possibly broken arm?”

“The really kinky kind?”

“Pick something better.”

“I fell down the stairs?”

“Alright. That could be believable.” With that, we made our way into the ER to have his arm fixed. We waited an hour to be seen and then another forty-five minutes for an X-ray.

“It looks like you won’t need surgery. I will need to cast it though.” The doctor advised.

“Alright.” Monty replied calmly, the pain meds having done their job. The doctor produced a bin of colours to choose from.

“Pick a colour and I’ll have you on your way soon.” He looked through them and decided on blue. Once wrapped and we were going to be on the way, the doctor added, “turn on the light next time.”

“Will do Doc. Thank you.” Monty replied and waved with his good hand.

Once we were in the car and on the way to my place, I realized I would need to explain Scott being over to him. Just tell him. I sighed before speaking. “Hey, so my parents are out of town, but you’ll need to sleep in the guest room.”

“Uh… okay? Why?” he asked.

“Because?”

“Because why?”

I felt my face heat up a bit. “Um… my room might already be… occupied?” I squeaked. I peeked over and his eyes widened.

“You mean…?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Who is it?”

“Scott?” I said, my voice raising an octave or two. Monty breathed out a whistle.

“Are we okay with that?”

I paused again, thinking. “Yes. Yeah, we are.”

“Well alright then.” he replied, leaning back and getting comfortable in the passenger seat. The house was quiet when we got back around four-thirty. Monty was tucked in the guest room as I slinked my way back into my own room. Scott was still sleeping soundly in bed. I crawled in beside him and went back to sleep for a few hours.

The following morning, I woke up and quietly made my way downstairs for breakfast. Monty followed not long after me, grabbing a mug and pouring himself a mug of coffee. I waited until he sat down and had a few sips before greeting him. “Morning Monty. Sleep okay?”

“Morning (Y/N). I slept okay. You?”

“It was alright. Warmer than I’m used to.”

“I’ll bet it was.” He smirked at me.

“Oh shush you.” Monty chuckled softly as I rolled my eyes.

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yeah. I am.” I nodded, smiling.

“Good. That’s good.” He nodded and took another sip of coffee. We heard footsteps coming downstairs and looked up.

“Morning (Y/N).” Scott muttered from the middle of the stairs.

“Morning Scott.” I replied.

“Morning Scotty.” Monty greeted, as though this was a perfectly normal Saturday morning. Scott almost missed a step, he stopped so fast.

“Uh. Morning Monty?” He looked to me and raised a brow.

“He needed me last night. I had to tell him.” I shrugged.

“Okay.” He said, walking over to the Keurig and making a cup of coffee. The three of us stood around the kitchen slightly awkwardly looking at each other.

“Same rule applies as with my car. I’ll beat you if you scratch her.”

“Jump right to the threats, why not?” I muttered into my mug.

“I’m sure you will, Monty.”

“Damn straight.”

“Even though I’m your favourite friend?”

“(Y/N) is my favourite.”

“I’m your person. Not your favourite.”

“Yes you are.”

“You don’t call your favourite when you kill someone and need help hiding the body.”

“Excuse me?” Scott interjected, alarmed.

“She made me watch Grey’s Anatomy with her over spring break a couple of years ago.”

“Oh. I see. How was that?”

“It’s network tv with a lot of censored sex. And drama.”

“No boobs?”

“No boobs.”

“Yeah, it would be better with boobs. And if everyone stopped leaving and dying.” I added.

“Does this mean I have to watch it with you?”

“No, you might have to sit through an episode of The Bachelor though. I mostly just watch it because I don’t understand how none of those stupidly attractive people can find dates on their own.”

“You hate watch it. I can’t wait.”

“Well, you’ll get to look forward to what happens after we get done hate watching it.” I retorted, lowly. Scott rose his brow suggestively.

“Oh really?”

“And on that note! Who wants… whatever I can make (Y/N) cook with eggs, peppers, and… meat? What is this meat?” Monty cut in as he went through my fridge.

“I think it’s pork. Could be ground turkey though. There’s potatoes in the cupboard. Breakfast hash?”

“Sounds delicious.” Scott answered. I moved around him and got the bag of potatoes so I could start helping.

“How long has this been going on for anyway? Also remember that I’m still here so you can’t be all touchy.”

Scott looked at me before answering. “Since December.”

“How did I not notice?” Monty said after a pause.

“I don’t know. Too busy with sports and Bryce? There’s also spinach. Do I add the spinach?” I turned around and the boys were both making faces. “No spinach then.”

“I was not busy with Bryce.”

“Mhmm. That’s not why you blew off our movie marathon tradition?”

“Okay, point made.”

“How’s your arm?”

“It’s okay, hurts like a bitch. Why, Scott?”

“Just asking.” Scott turned to me and whispered, “his dad?” I nodded.

“No flirting.”

“I didn’t get to kiss her good morning, give me a break.” I turned and watched Scott playfully flip Monty off. Then, he placed a soft kiss to my lips and I smiled into it. “Good morning beautiful.”

“Good morning handsome.”

***

“Monty knows now.”

“He does.” I replied, leaning back into his chest on the couch. “He’s okay with it.”

“That’s good.”

“You aren’t going to be jealous, are you? Because there is nothing going on between us.”

“No, I know. What was the fight about this time?”

“Who knows. He called me and said he needed me, so I went. He wanted to tell the doctors it was a sex accident.”

Scott laughed. “What the fuck kind of sex would that have been?”

“The kind that would have broken his wrist, not his forearm.”

“You would have been the top?”

“Yes. So, you see why we couldn’t say that.”

“Right. That’s why.”

“We said he fell down the stairs.”

“Plausible.”

“Anyway, no idea what it was. But knowing his dad, it could have been anything. There’s a reason I don’t go to his house very often.” I left it at that and we cuddled on the couch for a while.

“Hey Scotty?”

“Yeah, (Y/N/N)?”

I sat up and turned to him. “Now that Monty knows, do you think we could tell other people? Maybe… maybe enough time has passed that people will understand?”

“I think we can tell people, if you want to. I don’t care what people think. I would have told everyone in January if you wanted to.”

“I know. I just… I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never been the girl whose boyfriend died before.”  

“I know. People might talk for a few days, but they’ll move on. No one expects you to have stayed single for the rest of your life.”

“Not my whole life necessarily. Just the rest of high school.” I joked.

“The people who complain can fuck off.”

“I guess. And things have kind of gone back to normal now. Or as normal as they can.”

“We don’t have to tell people if you don’t want to (Y/N).”

“I do. I think we need to. I don’t want to hide you anymore. It’s time for me to start living my life in the open again.”

“And honestly, I’m tired of hiding you.” We spent a little longer watching tv together. It was nice having someone I could just sit and be with again. We each took turns choosing shows. “I should probably head home soon sweetheart.”

“Okay. I’ll see you Monday?”

“Of course.” Together we gathered up his things and tidied the kitchen. Scott kissed me goodbye, and I leaned against the front door after he had driven away.

Monday would be the last big thing I had to do before graduation. It was the last step in beginning to move forward. I would always love Jeff Atkins. He would always be a part of me and hold a special place in my heart. But I had realized over the last several months that I could be happy again. I wouldn’t be betraying him for allowing myself to fall in love with someone again. And I had Scott Reed to thank for that.

[hrina]

1923, Pt. II - The Week

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 8.4k REQUESTED: perhaps? idek anymore

hey yall, here’s PART 2 of the historical/groundskeeper!AU :) i really hope u guys like it, i spent the past two weeks trying to make it the best that i could. anywayyyy im sure everyone knows the drill by now: support content creators by reblogging their work and/or offering feedback! happy reading 💚💚💚

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

PART I: The Day

~*~

    July 7th, 1923

It’s hot.

You set your glass of water back onto the little table to your left. Excess condensation coats your fingertips; you wipe them against your forehead, hoping that it will be enough to cool you down. No such luck—the droplets provide a momentarily chill before sinking into your skin, leaving you feeling just as scorched as before.

You recline against the cushy yellow lounger, closing your eyes and tilting your face up to the sky. The sun beats down against your cheeks. The thin, cottony material of your dress is pasted to your thighs; you flex your legs slightly, hoping that the fabric will unstick.

In the distance, Apollo and Artemis—no longer confined to their pens—roam around the small, girded pasture adjacent to the stables. The fountain in the middle of the back lawn is about one hundred feet away. Skinny streams of water shoot out from the stone hands of a carved angel, spilling picturesquely into the upwelling below.

You crack one eye open slowly, letting your focus drift over to where Harry is crouched on the cobbled staircase of the porch. Sweat glistens on the nape of his neck as he furiously scrubs the steps clean.

Your thoughts retreat to the night before, when he’d kissed the back of your hand whilst standing in that very same spot. As though triggered by the memory, your knuckles begin to tingle.

Harry sits back on his haunches and drags his forearm across his face, wiping away the excess perspiration on his skin. His white shirt is soaked through with moisture. When he lifts his attention from the ground, your gazes lock for a brief moment. Immediately, your open eye snaps shut.

And you can’t be entirely sure, but you think that he may have smiled.

You lay in silence for another five minutes or so, indulging in the occasional sip of water as the heat of the summer envelopes your body. You only sit up when someone clears their throat from behind you, pulling you from your tranquil daze.

“Good afternoon,” Martin says. He’s standing a bit too close for comfort, casting a looming shadow over your torso.

“Hello,” you reply. You try to mask the disappointment that threatens to seep into your tone. A small part of you—a tiny, microscopic part—had been hoping that he was someone else.

“Thought you could use something to drink,” he says, plopping onto the recliner to your right. Your attention falls lower—two glasses are nestled comfortably in his hands. The caramel-coloured liquid inside each cup glints alluringly, sloshing over a trio of ice cubes that have already begun to melt.

“Is that…scotch?” you say, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“Yes,” he says. He extends an arm, offering you one of the glasses. “Fancy a taste?”

“I’ve had it before,” you say smoothly, shaking your head. “Truthfully, it’s not my favourite. Besides—” You gesture to the little table on your left. There’s still a bit of water residing in your cup. “—I already have a drink.”

Martin’s face falls.

“Thank you, though,” you add, not wanting to sound rude. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

That seems to bolster him a bit, you think, because his shoulders straighten as he shoots you a satisfied smile.

You clear your throat, gazing pointedly up at the sky. “Where’s Andrew?”

“Hmm? Oh.” Martin taps one foot against the floor. He’s wearing a pair of shiny black loafers—they’re new, you guess, and extremely expensive. “He’s in the middle of a call. Private business pertaining to Markham Motors, I believe. It doesn’t concern me—not yet, anyway.”

“Not yet,” you echo.

He chuckles, nodding proudly. “Your brother is remarkably ambitious. Once our two companies merge, I reckon that we’ll be unstoppable.”

“How exciting,” you murmur, reaching over for your water. You raise the cup to your mouth, expelling a soft sigh. “You must be thrilled, I’d imagine.”

“All in a day’s work,” he grunts, setting one glass of scotch down onto the ground. He lifts the other to his lips, taking a delicate sip.

You sit there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. Martin’s eyes roam the wide expanse of your backyard, jumping from the stables to the fountain and back again. He pauses, then, humming pensively when he spots Harry polishing the stairs less than fifteen feet away.

“It’s a bit…unconventional to be dining with the help, is it not?” he asks, cocking one eyebrow nonchalantly.

You stiffen and glance over your shoulder—Harry is on all fours, scowling as he scrubs a particularly stubborn stain from the bottom step. His chestnut hair tumbles onto his forehead, twisted into pretty ringlets. A spark of heat blazes up your spine.

You turn your attention back to Martin, only to find that he’s also watching the other man work. It’s different, however—his look is judgmental, austere. His thin upper lip curls in disdain and his eyebrows cinch together, radiating condescension.  

“We are…” You choose your words carefully. “…a rather unconventional family. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” he acquiesces, tilting his head to the side. “But does it not distress you, somewhat? Inviting them into your home, making yourself and your possessions vulnerable?”

Something gross festers in the pit of your stomach. You bite back the sound of disgust that threatens to spill from your mouth.

“No,” you state curtly. “Not at all.”

Silence falls over the two of you, thick and poignant and tremendously uncomfortable. After a long, tense moment, you sit up, dusting off the skirt of your dress and releasing a faint groan. “I think I’ll be heading in, now.”

“As will I,” Martin replies, jumping to pursue you.

You stand, clutching your glass of water in one hand. He quickly reaches out with extended fingers, trying to take it from you. Though chivalrous, the action is weak, and you both know it.

“Here, let me—”

“No, it’s quite alright—,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“I insist—”

“Mister Russell, really, it’s fine—”

The cup, slick with condensation, slips from your grasp and shatters loudly against the floor. You gasp when a jagged shard slices against your ankle. Pain flares up your shin; abruptly, you fall back onto the lounger. You angle your leg to the side, surveying the damage with wide eyes. The cut is about an inch long; blood drips from the injury, seeping down toward the sole of your bare foot. Bile gathers on your tongue.

“Good God!” Martin exclaims unhelpfully. “You’re bleeding!”

“I can see that,” you snap, bending down and pressing your fingertips against the laceration.

Heavy footsteps approach. When you cast a glance over your shoulder, you find Harry stalking toward you, his eyebrows furrowed in bewilderment.

“What happened?” he asks, but when you hold up one hand, he freezes in his tracks.

“Be careful!” you warn, your voice strained. “There’s glass everywhere.”

“What happened?” he repeats. His gaze lands on Martin, and his nostrils flare unnervingly. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” the other man protests, retreating a few steps away. “It just fell!”

“Go back inside,” Harry commands. “Check all the lavatories—there may be spare bandages in one of the cupboards.”

Martin frowns—you get the feeling that he’s not exactly used to being ordered around. “Now, you listen here—”

“Mister Russell!” you interrupt shrilly, fixing him with a stern glare. “Do as he says. Please.”

Martin closes his mouth and purses his lips, nodding tersely. He nearly trips over himself as he stumbles back into the house.

“He’s useless,” you mutter, bloody fingers slipping against your skin.

Harry doesn’t reply; instead, he situates himself on the opposite edge of the recliner, beckoning you closer with a quick flick of his hand.

“Face this way,” he instructs. “There’s no glass on this side.”

You obey him wordlessly. He gets you settled back into the chair, guiding your right leg over his thigh so that your foot lays comfortably in his lap. With no hesitation whatsoever, he grasps the white fabric covering the jut of his shoulder and gives a mighty tug. The sleeve rips cleanly at the seam. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head.

“We’ll use this,” Harry says, pulling the material down to his wrist. “Just until he returns with proper bindings.”

“Alright,” you whisper. It takes every ounce of willpower in your body to avoid staring at his naked arm—golden, sweat-slicked skin stretched over smooth, corded muscle. A frighteningly large part of you wants to lean forward and sink your teeth into his bicep. You swiftly curb the urge, swallowing heavily and trying to focus your attention on something—anything­­—else.

“How did this happen?” Harry asks.

He balls the fabric up and dabs cautiously at the blood dripping from your wound.

“He was—well, I don’t even know, really,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “He was trying to be gallant, I suppose.”

“‘Gallant’?” he parrots, gazing down at your leg. “He fancies you, then?”

“Yes.” You pause, rethinking your answer. “No.” You sigh. “Perhaps; I’m not sure.”

He smirks. Despite the pain pulsating up your leg, you wiggle your toes and nudge him with your knee.

“What’s so amusing?” you ask, puzzled.

He simply chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s just that…you’re a bit oblivious, that’s all.”

And for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, you balk and say, “I beg your pardon?”

Harry laughs. Gingerly, he wraps his torn sleeve around your ankle, applying a gentle pressure to your skin. You wince, curling your fingers into fists. His hands—though rough and calloused—are surprisingly tender with their movements. He’s slow and practiced, treating you as though you’re made of porcelain. Your heartbeat quickens; you hope that he can’t hear the way it thunders beneath your ribs.

“You’re rather clueless when it comes to gauging a man’s affections for you,” he explains. He makes it sound as though it’s a phenomenon of which you should already be aware.

You narrow your eyes and purse your lips.

“Tread carefully,” you tell him, though you can’t hide the sardonic undertone in your voice. “You’re wading through dangerous waters, here.”

“What I mean to say is—” Harry clears his throat, shrugging coolly. “—since yesterday’s arrival, that fool’s chattering hasn’t ceased. Building oneself up with words…that’s the sign of a boy aiming to impress a girl.”

“You don’t sound too keen on that method,” you note.

He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Excellent observation. I am not.”

“And why is that?” you ask, cocking one eyebrow challengingly. “How exactly would you attempt to make your affections known?”

Harry places one of his palms on the skin just below your knee. You jump at the contact, shocked by his brazen move. Having his hands on your ankle is one thing—but your knee? It’s risky, bold, nearly scandalous…and with the way he’s looking at you, it’s clear that he knows it, too.

“Building oneself up with words is a boy’s game,” he tells you. “But building oneself up with actions…that’s the sign of a man aiming to impress a woman. It may be a bit unconventional, but—” He pins you with a deliberate stare. “I work for a rather unconventional family. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You say nothing. Harry’s green eyes pierce your face, peeling you open layer by layer. You’ve stopped breathing, your chest completely still. Goosebumps erupt across your arms. Instinctively, your concentration falls to his lips: twin pink petals, sinful and alluring and so incredibly—

“I’ve got the bandages!”

And just like that, the spell is broken. You drag your gaze away from the man in front of you, turning to the side and watching as Martin jogs back over with a thick spool of gauze clutched tightly to his chest.

“Here,” he pants. He passes the roll to Harry, who clears his throat loudly and begins to unwind the bindings with swift, proficient fingers.

Martin then fixes his attention on you, raising his eyebrows quizzically.

“Are you alright?” he asks, shooting you an expectant look.

“Fine,” you croak out, though the blood roaring in your ears sincerely begs to differ.

You blink yourself out of your stupor, running your tongue over the roof of your mouth and exhaling shakily. Harry has turned back to your ankle, replacing the makeshift bandages with proper ones. You glance up at Martin and nod your head, praying that he can’t see the flustered agitation brewing in your eyes.

“Yes, Mister Russell, I’m fine. Thank you.”

      July 9th, 1923

The library is your favourite room in the house.

It’s quiet, peaceful, and is accompanied only by the rarest of disturbances. Lydia’s never really enjoyed reading—she can’t sit still long enough to do so. Andrew hasn’t stepped past the threshold in years—he’s been too busy running Markham Motors. So, that just leaves you, along with the freedom to choose from the hundreds of books lining the shelves. You’ve dabbled in fiction and non-fiction alike, soaking up the words from the page just as the ground soaks up rain from a storm.

The library has become your safe haven. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

You trod over to your favourite spot to read: a small alcove in the wall, decked out with fluffy cushions and tucked right up against a wide window. It gives you a perfect view of the driveway and the front lawn down below. You’ve spent hours in this little nook, absorbed in novels and poems and biographies. You’ve passed entire nights curled up next to the windowpane, having dozed off in the middle of a story. It’s become a tradition of sorts, despite the dull ache in your neck that always ensues when you stir the next morning.

The book in your hands is heavy as you sink into the mess of pillows. Bright, natural light streams in from the window to your left. You release a soft sigh as your fingers flip to where you’d last left off during your previous visit.

She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me—

You scoff and roll your eyes. You’ve read this story a dozen times; you already know how it ends.

For the next twenty minutes, nothing matters save for the adventures of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. You allow yourself to get lost in the world of Pride and Prejudice, eyes hungrily raking over every printed detail. You’re only pulled out of your reverie when a shrill, jubilant cry pierces through the silence.

Instinctively, your head snaps toward the direction of the noise. Through the spotless windowpane, you spy Harry and Lydia standing on the lawn. Harry is holding a brown hose, angling it downward and watering the grass beneath his feet. Your sister is next to him, babbling and gesturing animatedly with her hands. You smile at the sight.

You slip your thumb between the pages of the book to mark your place. The novel is forgotten as you study the scene playing out below.

Harry is wearing an ashen blue button-up and a pair of black trousers. A thin white undershirt peeks out from beneath his collar. He smirks at something that Lydia says, ducking his head and trying to conceal the fond expression on his face. She throws her hands up in the air and twirls around—when she staggers slightly, Harry holds out his arm. Her fingers dig into his elbow to regain balance, and the two of them dissolve into giggles. Warmth unfurls in your chest.

Harry tilts his head back, surveying the cloudless sky with squinted eyes and a wrinkled nose. His attention turns to the house, then, sweeping absentmindedly over the fair bricks and stone accents.

Suddenly, his gaze darts forward. You freeze when his green irises lock squarely on you.

Hot humiliation creeps up your neck, because of course. Staring at him and remaining undetected is a luxury that few can afford.

Your lips part with a soft gasp, and your shoulders stiffen. The corners of Harry’s mouth curl up slightly—so faint, you think it may just be a figment of your imagination. The gilded copy of Pride and Prejudice rests in your lap, abandoned. It mocks you and your preoccupation—your fascination—with the man on the ground.

Harry shoots you a small, mysterious smile, and lifts his chin. You sit up straight, processing his request.

“I shouldn’t—,” you start to say before remembering that he can’t actually hear you. You clench your jaw and shake your head, hoping that he’ll be able to register the movement through the glass.

But his teasing expression only deepens as he beckons you again. A ragged exhale falls from your lips, and a tepid swell of adrenaline floods your veins. You snap your book shut, tucking it against your chest and pushing yourself away from the window. You swear that your heart skips a beat when your feet hit the floor.

Don’t rush, don’t rush, don’t rush.

It’s hard to maintain a measured pace, especially when such a big part of you just wants to take off and sprint down the spiral staircase. You force yourself to dawdle, to smooth your fingers over the bannister and descend slowly. Your palms are clammy as you make your way across the foyer, eyes glued to the large double doors on the opposite wall.

And then you’re outside, the sun beating down against your face and the breeze blowing gently through your hair. You saunter toward the edge of the large portico, leaning against the stone railing with your novel still clutched tightly to your sternum.

“Dee!”

Lydia whips around, taken aback by the call of her name. Upon recognising you, her features morph into a mask of quizzical mockery.

“Where have you been?” she asks, jogging over.

“I was reading,” you say, shrugging indifferently. After a short moment, you add, “Beth’s looking for you.”

“Me? What for?”

In the periphery of your vision, you spy Harry approaching. Water leaks from the nozzle of the hose; he gathers a few droplets onto his knuckles before smearing them across his sweaty forehead. You bite your tongue to suppress a snort.

“Dinner, I believe,” you lie, turning back to your sister. “It’s your turn to choose, is it not?”

Lydia’s eyes light up. “You’re right! It’s Monday, isn’t it?”

Her feet smack loudly against the cobbled steps as she races toward the door. Before disappearing inside, however, she skids to a stop, spinning around and raising one arm high above her head. “Goodbye, Harry!”

Harry smiles, lifting two fingers to his temple in a lazy salute. “Goodbye, little bug.”

A moment later, she’s gone.

And a moment after that, you find yourself sincerely regretting your decision to send her away. Harry observes you with raised brows and a knowing smirk on his face. You gnaw anxiously on your bottom lip, avoiding his eyes. A long beat of silence ensues.

“Hello,” he finally says.

You exhale quietly, relieved. “Hello.”

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“It is,” you agree.

You lean against the stone bannister, peering down at him. The breeze picks up, gusting through your thin skirt and blouse. A small part of you notes the theatrical romanticism of it all: his being on the ground, the butterflies flapping around in your stomach—

“Do you always spend the majority of a nice day locked away in the library?” Harry asks. His pretty irises twinkle alluringly when your gazes meet.

“I—no,” you stammer. “I was just…reading.”

“As one does in a room full of books, I’d expect.”

Embarrassment blooms in your chest.

“Yes,” you say softly. “Precisely.”

He grins.

“How is your ankle?” he asks, motioning toward the bottom of your leg.

“Oh.” You look down, flexing your foot. “It’s healing. I should be fully rehabilitated in a few days.”

Harry chuckles, nodding. You purse your lips and try for a smile, but you’re afraid that it resembles more of a grimace.

“What’ve you got, there?” He lifts his chin, gesturing to the novel tucked between your forearm and your chest. You’re grasping it so tightly that you’re surprised the skin of your knuckles hasn’t split.

You clear your throat, revealing the embroidered inscription on the front cover. “Er—Pride and Prejudice. It’s my favourite.”

Harry hums. “Mine, too.”

And though it is extremely impolite, you can’t stop the look of shock that makes its way onto your face.

“You’ve read it?”

He chuckles sheepishly, dropping his chin. “You have bewitched me, body and soul,” he suddenly says, lifting his eyes from the ground and fixing his unwavering gaze on you, “and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you—”

“—from this day on,” you finish, breathless.

He smiles. Zaps of electricity surge down your spine. The two of you are silent, tripping over unspoken murmurs of indulgence. You scrape your tongue over your teeth, clueless.

Harry is the first one to break.

“I should get back to work,” he announces gently. He gestures to the hose hanging limply from his hand and gives a perfunctory shrug.

“Of course.” You nod, inhaling deeply. “I should get back to…”

He smirks when you trail off. “Reading?” he supplies.

“Yes,” you blurt. “Yes. Exactly.” You hesitate, drumming your fingers against the auburn cover of your book. “Good day, Harry.”

“Good day, miss!” he calls as you begin to walk away. You pause and cast a glance over your shoulder, an admonishment dancing on the tip of your tongue.

For the hundredth time, Harry, you mustn’t feel obligated to address me in such a formal—

But then you register the mischief on his face, and the realisation sinks in.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” you ask.

Crinkles dig into the corners of his eyes.

“I’m afraid that I don’t understand,” he says, tilting his head to the side in faux-confusion. You wipe a clammy palm against the waistband of your skirt and bite back a small smile. Harry’s playful expression deepens, poking a cavernous dimple into his left cheek.

“Have a little compassion on my nerves,” you say, pulling another quote from the novel clasped against your body. “You tear them to pieces.”

His lips twitch, impressed and amused.

“What a shame,” he counters, snickering quietly, “for I dearly love to laugh.”

         July 13th, 1923

The past hour of your life has been spent rolling around in bed and resenting your glaring inability to fall asleep. You’re not really sure why you’re still awake after midnight, but you’ve long since given up on trying to solve the mystery that is your body’s biological clock. Smooth satin sheets tickle your bare legs. You groan into your pillow and push yourself up from the mattress, tossing your feet over the edge and shivering softly when they land on the cold hardwood floor.

You wrap yourself up in a thin silk robe; the hem falls only an inch or two above your knees. The rest of the house is silent as you quietly exit your room and pad across the hall. You tiptoe down the spiral staircase; a brief moment later (during which you slip on some comfortable footwear), you’re stepping out into the backyard, greeted by gentle zephyrs and temperate summer air.

As you hop down the porch steps and begin the familiar trek toward the stables, you note the blanket of stars dotting the clear night sky. They twinkle happily, winking at you as though they know something that you don’t.

You shake your head at the thought. They’re stars. Big, flaming balls of gas floating in space, stationed millions of miles away. They know nothing.

Your ears perk up as you approach your destination, struck by the low stream of words carried by the breeze.

“…lilies, and dahlias, too. They tend to bloom during the summer…”

You freeze, feet stalling in the dirt. Leaning in closer, you catch deep murmurs of a faceless voice. The stranger continues to list off different types of flowers; when a soft chuckle laces through the air, your eyes widen in disbelief.

Is that…?

Sure enough, when you creep into the stables, you find Harry standing in front of Artemis’ pen, running his fingers through her shiny mane. His back is to you, shoulder blades flexing beneath the dark button-up adorning his torso. The sleeves reach his biceps, stretching slightly whenever he lifts his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he’s saying as you inch closer, hopelessly engrossed in the pseudo-conversation. “Sugar cubes are a bit of a rarity in my home. I haven’t any others.”

A twig snaps beneath your foot. You wince.

Harry whips around, startled. Upon recognising you, he blows out a heavy breath. Tension leaks from his body, and twin pink spots form on his cheeks. You stare at the blush colouring his face, mesmerized—you’ve never seen him look so dumbfounded.

“Er—,” you say. You raise your hand in an awkward, half-hearted wave. “Hello.”

“Hello,” he replies.

A beat of silence ensues.

“What are you…?” you trail off, trying to keep your voice level. “Were you just—?”

“Yes,” he says quickly. A sheepish chuckle tumbles off his tongue. “I....I understand it, now. Talking to one’s horse is rather soothing.”

“She’s not yours, though.” Your response is blunt, unfeeling.

Harry’s nostrils flare, and his feet scuff against the ground. Now that he’s facing you, you’re able to get a better look at him. A white undershirt peeks out from beneath his button-up, leaving his collarbones exposed. A gold chain glints around his neck, illuminated under the dim light. He’s wearing brown trousers and those same black boots, but you think that he may have polished them, finally, because they’re considerably tidier than before.

“She’s not,” Harry agrees, swallowing nervously. “My sincerest apologies. I can see that I’ve crossed a line—”

You can’t stifle the giggle that bubbles up in your throat. Harry hesitates, fixing you with a bewildered expression. At last, you shoot him a small smile, shaking your head and waving away his regrets.

“I’m only teasing,” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Breathe, Harry.”

He exhales raggedly, ruffling the curls at the back of his head. “Jesus. You frightened me.”

“Good. Perhaps you’ve finally learned your lesson, then.”

“My lesson?” he echoes, cocking his head to the side. “And what exactly would that be?”

“To avoid sneaking up on others at night,” you say. “Especially if they’re in the midst of conversing with their horse. It’s a very private exchange, you know—endless confessions have been made under this roof.”

Harry laughs.

“I think I’ve supplied my fair share of confessions, tonight,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly. “I can leave you to do the same.”

“No,” you blurt out. “Wait.”

He pauses, shocked by your immediate refutation. You purse your lips as hot shame unfurls in your chest.

“I just meant,” you start, hastening to make amends, “you can stay, if you’d like. Besides—” You shrug. “It’s far more pleasant talking to someone who can actually talk back.”

~*~

“Harry. No.”

“Yes.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. And I’ll be right next to you. I won’t leave your side.”

You gnaw apprehensively on your bottom lip as he frees Artemis from her pen. She trots out and whinnies softly, tossing her head to the side. He shushes her, dragging a comforting palm over her back. You step closer, mirroring his movements and glaring at him with terse, squinted eyes.

“We’ll go slowly,” he says, fixing you with an earnest look. “A few steps at a time. That doesn’t sound too daunting, does it?”

After a long, overwrought moment, you surrender.

“Very well,” you say. You point at him accusatorily, extending your arm over Artemis’ body. “But as soon as I want to stop, we stop. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Harry leans forward, bumping the pad of your finger with the tip of his nose. The contact makes you gasp. He pauses as well, having realised the implications of the thoughtless action. You swallow heavily; he clears his throat and averts his gaze.

“I’ll get the saddle,” he says.

His heel scrapes loudly against the dry dirt when he turns; you watch as he marches toward the pair of brown saddles hanging on the wooden wall. With a mighty groan, he heaves one from its rusted, metal hook, gathering the leather in his arms before making his way back over to you.

“Thank you,” you murmur shyly.

“You’re very welcome.”

You migrate to the side, petting Artemis’ mane as Harry slips the saddle onto her back. She huffs; you coo at her, holding her face in your hands to keep her calm. Harry spends the next several seconds strapping everything in place. After he’s finished, he gives a gentle tug, ensuring that you won’t slide and fall to the ground once you’re ready to mount.

“All set,” he says, squaring his shoulders.

You glance over at him with wide, frightened eyes. When he meets your gaze, his stoic expression melts into a pool of concern.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, stepping closer to you.

“I—” Your throat burns. “I haven’t ridden in three years, Harry.”

“I know,” he says solemnly. He offers you his left hand. “Do you trust me?”

Your response is immediate. “I do.”

“Good.” The corners of his lips curl upward. His tone is unreservedly honest when he speaks again. “I won’t let anything happen to you, miss; I swear it.”

You slide your palm against his. A sharp tingle races up your arm, sending your heartbeat into a frenzy. You fight to keep your breathing even as Harry pulls you closer, positioning you in front of him and placing his fingers on your waist.

“Ready?” he murmurs. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear.

You nod.

He grunts as he lifts you. You kick out one leg, slinging it over Artemis’ back and pulling yourself up. Once you’ve settled into a comfortable position, you peer down at him, shoulders taut and ankles locked.

“Breathe,” Harry reminds you. He leads by example, inhaling deeply; you imitate him, trying to ignore the thin sheen of sweat gathered at the nape of your neck.

“What do I do, now?” you ask after a thin stretch of silence.

He chuckles good-naturedly, cocking one eyebrow. “You’ve forgotten?”

“No,” you say indignantly, frowning. “I just—”

You break off when he takes your hands and guides them forward. Your fingers wrap around the reins dangling from Artemis’ neck. You fist the leather firmly, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat. Harry’s nostrils flare as he retracts his arms. You’re fascinated by the way his tongue darts out of his mouth, swiping over his sunburnt lips.

“A few steps at a time,” he says, repeating his former words.

You nod, blowing out a shaky exhale. Gently, you dig your heels into Artemis’ belly and click your teeth. She snorts and takes a step forward; the air is swiftly knocked from your lungs.

“I’m right here,” Harry pipes up. He lays one palm against the back of the saddle, keeping pace. “I won’t let you fall.”

Gradually, you make it out of the stables. The distance can’t be more than fifteen or twenty feet, but it’s a start. You tug softly on the reins, and Artemis stops abruptly. The sudden pause has you lurching forward in your seat. You squeak; quicker than a lightning strike, Harry is there. His hand settles on the small of your back, keeping you steady.

You look down at him, and your gazes lock. Jade eyes gleam beneath the lustrous night sky. His attention falls lower, and only then do you realise that the hem of your robe has ridden up your leg. Most of your thigh is exposed—smooth skin on total display, mere inches from his face. You release an inaudible gasp, shifting your hips to the side so that the silk slips back down.

A muscle in Harry’s jaw twitches enticingly. He removes his touch from your back and turns away.

“Beautiful evening,” he says stiffly, peering up at the stars. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You clear your throat. “I’d like to dismount, now. Would you mind?”

He shakes his head and hums. “Not at all. Hold onto me.”

You place your hands on his shoulders, and he curls his fingertips into your waist. Wordlessly, he lifts you from Artemis’ back. You yelp when your ankle snags on one of the saddle’s leather straps. He stumbles backward, wrapping his arms tightly around your midsection and grunting in surprise. When you eventually regain your footing, your eyes widen at the compromising nature of your position.

Harry is clutching you against his torso, his face buried in your neck. Warm puffs of air leave his lips and coat the column of your throat; the sensation sends shivers down your spine. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, chest heaving with difficult, onerous breaths.

It’s a stance that should only be shared between lovers, you think. Between a husband and his wife.

Harry is not your husband.

And you are not his wife.

The two of you break apart almost immediately, choking on hasty, half-formed sentences.

“My apologies, miss—”

“No, you needn’t—I should have been more cautious—”

“It’s late; you must be spent—”

“I’m not ready to leave.”

Harry freezes, his jaw agape. Several seconds elapse before he can find it in himself to muster a reply.

“I beg your pardon?” He’s breathless, swept away by your confession.

You shift awkwardly.

“I’m not ready to leave,” you repeat. You clasp your hands behind your back and fix him with an even stare. You hope that he can’t hear the slight quiver at the base of your declaration. “I—I wish to spend more time with you.”

He blinks. “With me?”

You nod. “With you.”

“What…?” He hesitates. “What would you like to do?”

You shrug. “Anything.”

Harry puckers his lips, lost in thought. After a prolonged moment of deliberation, his features light up. “I know a place.”

“‘A place’?” you parrot, brows knitting together.

“A place,” he confirms. “You trust me, do you not?”

“You already know the answer to that question,” you say, scoffing quietly. “I believe I’ve made myself abundantly clear.”

He chuckles. You tug on the sleeves of your robe and grate your slippers into the dirt. Harry watches you with careful eyes.

“Do it now, then,” he says, nodding encouragingly. He holds out his hand once more, beckoning you closer. “Trust me, now.”

You chew on your bottom lip, gracing him with a curt bob of your head. Artemis huffs as you wrap her reins around your wrist and slide your fingers against Harry’s palm. He pats your knuckles gently, guiding them to the crook of his elbow.

“Shall we?” he asks. It’s impossible to read the emotion in his voice.

Your response of endorsement is meek. Gone is the confident woman from a minute ago: the one who stated what she wanted without a second thought. She slips through your grasp easily, disintegrating into a pile of dust and leaving nothing behind.

“We shall,” you choke out.

Harry’s lips twitch with the ghost of a smile, and Artemis’ hooves clunk against the ground as he leads you off into the night.

~*~

“This is so…”

“Nice, isn’t it?”

“‘Nice’?” You spin on your heel slowly, taking in your surroundings. “It’s incredible.”

The water trickling through the creek is crystal clear. A few shiny rocks peek out from the shallow stream, gleaming in the moonlight. You peer up at the stars—hundreds of diamonds, perfectly visible thanks to the large gap of the clearing. Crickets chirp along the edges of the bushes, and yellow-green fireflies ride the breeze.

“How did you find this place?” you breathe.

“It may sound foolish—,” Harry begins. He holds one hand out; you transfer Artemis’ reins into his palm. “—but I can’t remember.”

“Really?” you ask, stunned. You trail after him as he leads your horse to a nearby tree. He loops her leather harnesses around a thick branch, tying a proficient knot and giving it a few experimental tugs. Your gaze remains glued to his hands: the way his fingers work deftly, the way his knuckles flex with each pull—

“Really,” he says. A soft sigh tumbles from his mouth as he steps back. “Come with me.”

You follow him to the middle of the clearing, trying to anticipate his next move. What you don’t expect, however, is for him to drop to his knees. He falls backward, spine meeting the grass with a faint thump. You gasp, staring down at him with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Don’t be afraid,” Harry hums, shooting you a playful smirk. He crosses his arms behind his head—you try to avoid staring at the prominent bulge of his biceps. “The weeds won’t bite.”

“O—Oh,” you stammer, nodding quickly. “Alright, then.”

Daintily, you lower yourself to the ground. He watches you with an amused expression on his face.

“What?” you say, pouting.

“Nothing.” He snickers quietly. You tuck your ankles beneath your thighs as he turns to the side, propping his head up with one hand. “Correct me if I’m wrong, miss, but…I presume that you don’t often make it a point to lay in the grass.”

“That would be an accurate presumption,” you say, laughing softly. Harry smiles.

“You should spend more time outside,” he says absentmindedly. “You’re always cooped up in the house.”

You cock one eyebrow teasingly. “Do you wish to see more of me, Harry?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, humour evident in his tone. “I am simply trying to instill some sense of adventure into your life.”

The corners of your lips kink upward. In a matter of seconds, however, your delight melts away, replaced by a somberness that you can’t seem to shake.

“I was far more adventurous before the accident,” you murmur, dropping your gaze. You reach out, fiddling with a few blades of grass in an attempt to avoid Harry’s doleful eyes. “Now, I…I’m afraid of everything, it seems.”

Silence hangs in the air between you, filled only by the steady symphony of chirping crickets.

“If I may ask—,” Harry starts, shifting closer. “—what happened?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Artemis shoved me off.”

“She did?”

“It wasn’t her fault!” you say quickly, holding up one hand. “She got spooked, I suppose. And I wasn’t expecting it, so…I fell.”

“What frightened her?” he asks, anxious creases digging into his forehead.

You shrug. “I don’t know. But since then, I’ve been uneasy about riding. If I’m oblivious to what alarmed her the first time, who’s to say that it won’t happen again?”

He nods. “I understand.”

You sigh, plucking a piece of grass from the dirt and twirling it between your fingers. “I wish I could be more like Drew,” you hum distantly. “Someone who throws themselves into their trauma instead of shying away from it.”

Harry’s brows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You frown. “He—he never told you?”

He shakes his head. “I haven’t a clue. What is it exactly that you’re referring—?”

“Our parents,” you say softly.

Harry’s mouth clamps shut. He inhales deeply, gracing you with a curt nod. You take his silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“They perished in a car accident,” you murmur, looking away. “My father was head of Markham Motors, at the time. He had overlooked a flaw in the latest model, and when they finally took the vehicle out for a drive, it—”

You break off, unable to continue.

Harry reaches forward, covering one of your hands with his. A puff of stale air catches in your throat. You glance down at him timidly, hoping that he can’t identify the flustered distress on your face.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells you, squeezing your fingers tenderly. “That must’ve been awful.”

You exhale shakily. “It was.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you say nothing else. Instead, you melt into your surroundings—the grass brushing your legs, the slow trickle of water in the creek, the dim buzz of fireflies drifting in the wind. At the edge of the clearing, Artemis snorts, lowers her head, and begins to graze.

At last, you decide to break through the stillness.

“Enough about my family,” you say. You recoil, subtly pulling your hand away. Harry is far too distracting. You’re afraid that if he touches you one more time, tonight, your poor heart will give out. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he replies. He settles back into his previous position: spine pressed flush against the ground, arms tucked coolly beneath his head.

“How are you?” you say. “How is your sister, in Paris?”

He peers up at you with raised eyebrows, impressed. “You remembered?”

“Is there a particular reason as to why I shouldn’t?”

Harry chuckles. “No, I suppose not.”

“Well, go on, then.” You rest your chin on your palm. “What is she like?”

“You’re a bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

You scowl. “Harry.”

“Right, right.” He sighs, smiling fondly up at the sky. “She’s…she’s lovely, really. She just got engaged, as a matter of fact. I haven’t met her fiancé, but he’s stellar, based on how she describes him in her letters.”

“That’s wonderful,” you say. Your gaze drifts longingly over the bridge of his nose. “Send her my blessings, will you?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, mouth twisting in a roguish smirk. “I reckon she’d find that a bit odd—the two of you have never met.”

“Oh.” You purse your lips, bashful. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Harry laughs; you’re captivated by the dimples embossed into his cheeks.

“I’m only joking,” he tells you, waving away your concerns. “She’ll appreciate that very much. I’m sure of it.”

You don’t reply. Silence hangs in the air, thick and heavy, until his next words slice through the tension like a knife.

“She and I used to do this almost every night,” he murmurs.

“Do what?”

“Come outside,” he says, shrugging. “Lay on the ground. Stare up at the stars.” His irises glaze over with a forlorn look. “We always raced to see who could find the greatest number of constellations.”

“Really?” You don’t know why you’re so taken aback by his confession.

He nods. “Really.”

“Have you found any, tonight?”

He smiles. “Why don’t you come down here and see for yourself?”

The soil is surprisingly comfortable. You join him, resting your back against the grass and gazing up at the night sky. It’s an endless tapestry of diamonds—sparkling, infinite, beautiful. Your chest swells with a deep, relaxed breath as it all sinks in.

“Anything?” Harry asks expectantly.

You squint. After a long moment, a dejected sigh falls from your lips. “No. I’m not very good at this.”

He laughs. You watch, enthralled, as he lifts one hand and points to your left, singling out a curved cluster of stars.

“See these ones, over here? Shaped a bit like a hook? That’s Scorpius.”

“‘Scorpius’?”

“It means ‘scorpion’ in Latin,” Harry explains. “Scorpius was sent by the gods to kill Orion. He was then placed in the sky to advise mortals against the perils of vanity and pride.”

Vanity and pride.

Vanity and pride.

You bite your lip and turn to the side, tucking a palm under your cheek. The action draws Harry’s attention; he does a double take, stunned by the sudden, close proximity of your bodies. His mouth quirks up into a coy smile as he mimics your position, brows furrowed in diluted mystification.

“What is it?” he asks.

You shift, swallowing heavily.

“I’m afraid that I’ve been unfair to you,” you say softly, gazing straight into his eyes. “I—I’ve misjudged you terribly, and for that, I must apologise. I was a fool.”

“You needn’t—,” he starts, but you press on.

“You are kind,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “You are intelligent, and clever, and you have more class in a single finger than most men have in their entire bodies.”

“Miss—”

“I was wrong about you, and I regret allowing my biases to blind me in such an atrocious manner. Can you ever forgive—oomph!”

Harry’s kiss is passionate, bruising. You stiffen, muscles locking in astonishment. One of his hands rests on the ground, providing balance; the other is on your arm, calloused thumb stroking your skin through the thin silk of your robe. You’re frozen, unable to react, because his lips are on yours, and he’s touching your body, and you’re nearly certain that you’ve died and entered the afterlife.

When Harry pulls away after a few short seconds, he’s stupidly sheepish. His eyelashes flutter open, and his stare immediately floods with remorse.

“I—forgive me,” he stammers, tripping over the words. “That was deplorable. I should have asked—”

Roughly, you grab his face between your palms. His cheeks are soft and smooth, jawline dotted with the faintest hint of stubble. The two of you exchange a look—electric, charged, thrilling. A single, critical moment ensues, during which a distinct quote emerges from the deep recesses of your mind.

A girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of. 

The words echo in your head as you abandon all semblance of common sense, yanking Harry in by the collar of his shirt and kissing him again.

      July 14th, 1923

“Quickly! We haven’t got all day!”

“Patience!” you call from the top of the stairs. You guide one last strand of hair into place before hurrying down the flight.

Lydia is waiting for you on the main floor. You set your hands on your hips and fix her with a stern glare, huffing at her eagerness. She sticks her tongue out at you. When you open your mouth to admonish her, she whips around and scurries through the large double doors, disappearing into the backyard.

Upon stepping outside, you find Martin and Andrew already sat on the patio. Lydia settles into one of the chairs around the table, smiling brightly and beckoning you over.

“There you are,” Drew says as you approach. “Beth should be out with dinner any minute now.”

“Do you know what she’s prepared?” you ask, tucking yourself into your seat.

Andrew shrugs and emits a noncommittal sound, clueless.

“Very well,” you sigh, casting a shallow glance across the table. “Good evening, Mister Russell,” you say, tipping your chin in Martin’s direction.

“Good evening.” He beams, tugging on the lapels of his yellow blazer. “Haven’t seen you all day—where have you been hiding?”

You cluck your tongue, tugging nervously at the hem of your dress. “I hardly think it fair for a woman to disclose her spaces of refuge.”

“Stop being so cryptic!” Lydia laughs. She turns to Martin, declaring matter-of-factly, “She was locked up in the library. It’s her favourite room in the entire house.”

Martin hums, diverting his gaze back to you. The expression on his face is indecipherable. “You read?”

You nod. “I do.”

A subtle movement in the periphery of your vision catches your attention. You turn your head to the side, and your heart nearly stops when you spot Harry making his way across the lawn. It appears as though he’s done for the evening, hands caked in grime and shirt speckled with dirt. He steps onto the dusty trail leading into the woods, beginning his journey home.

You haven’t spoken to him since last night—since he kissed you, and then you kissed him, and then the two of you kissed each other until you ran out of air to breathe. He led Artemis to the stables and walked you back to the house just as dawn broke, lighting up the sky with faint hues of pink and blue. You remember sharing a final embrace at the base of the steps before bidding him goodbye, flashing a smile and disappearing inside without another word.

“Would you excuse me?” you say, pushing away from the table and scrambling up out of your seat. “I just—I need to ask Harry about the lilies that he planted yesterday—I’ll only be a moment.”

You scamper off without waiting for a response.

“Harry? Harry!”

He pauses at the call of his name, turning around gingerly. When he spies you hurrying over, his eyes immediately drop to the ground.

You stop in front of him, tilting your head to the side. “Hello.”

“Hello, miss.” He doesn’t lift his gaze. The realisation makes you frown.

“How—how are you?” you ask, licking your lips and clasping your hands behind your back.

“I’m well, thank you. And yourself?”

“I—” Your nostrils flare. “I’m alright. I saw you walking home, and I just wanted to—”

“Forgive me.” Harry cuts you off swiftly. He refuses to look at you, still. “I’m weary. It’s been a long day.”

You recoil slightly, stunned by his candour.

“Of course,” you splutter, nodding. “We were both up quite late last night; time evaded us, I suppose—”

“So, you understand,” he says, stepping back. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

You open your mouth to stop him, but your voice betrays you. Your chest grows tight when he lifts two fingers to his temple, offering up a half-hearted salute.

“Harry—”

He finally meets your gaze, and something inside of you breaks. His eyes are dull and gloomy, revealing nothing. You want to rush forward, to take his face in your hands and hold him close. To run your nails through his hair and smother him in a flurry of hard, worried kisses. To ask him why he’s acting this way. He had been so happy last night—what changed?

But the others are watching from the patio, and you’re a goddamned coward, and you can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

“Enjoy your dinner, miss,” Harry says. His tone is emotionless—it makes you want to cry. “Take care.”

~*~

PART III: The Month

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[theadventurousdork]

Dani Clayton and Jamie Taylor: A scene by scene study on the dynamism of a queer romance

by theadventurousdork

Well, here we are! An unnecessarily long essay breaking down Dani and Jamie’s scenes together that I decided to write purely for the fact that they have taken a hold of my queer little heart and haven’t given it back yet. Grab some awful tea or coffee and take a read, if you’d like! 

Episode One

In this episode, we see Dani and Jamie meet for the very first time. This is the beginning of them and their story. It all starts in the kitchen of Bly Manor where a dirt covered Jamie walks in just in time for the residents of Bly to gather for an afternoon lunch.

“The gardener didn’t even introduce herself to the new au pair. She barely acknowledged her at all. Simply treated her as if she’d always been there. The others in the room just assumed they’d already met, which, if she were honest, was how the au pair felt when she first saw the young woman.”

Jamie walks in without even batting an eye to the new guest meanwhile, we see a soft eyed Dani looking over at the gardener with a gaze that gives the audience the first look to the gravitational pull that seems to be set between them. With Dani explaining her belief that she has seen someone on the parapet of the old wing, Jamie’s reaction is cold. She looks down at the table with a hardened look. She looks almost hurt. We learn later on that Jamie was the first adult resident of Bly to find the dead body of Rebecca Jessel floating in the lake of the manor which has probably resulted in trauma for Jamie as she remembers her late friend. With Owen and Hannah also finding the possibility of someone being on the balcony to be slim, the residents carry on with their meal. As the introduction to Jamie’s character, we are able to see her cold and guarded exterior. However, we also see her wit and humor as she comfortably pokes fun at Miles and Flora. The space she takes when she walks into a room isn’t empty for she fills it with her bold personality and Dani immediately takes notice of this yet she doesn’t show any hint of openly acknowledging it. 

Episode Two

Episode two sheds a different light on the pairing. This episode gives us the first look at Dani’s trauma and the weight that she’s feeling on her conscience. But first, we see her changing the tide at Bly as she puts Miles and Flora to work in the garden as punishment for locking her in a closet. As Dani and the children pull weeds, a relaxed Hannah and Jamie watch from a distance just as Owen offers them drinks. As the trio sip on their gin and tea, they discuss Dani and how her presence is a nice addition to the grounds of Bly. This is where something I call “testing of the waters: part one” occurs. Jamie asks Owen if he thinks that Dani’s pretty before continuing to poke fun at his inability to answer. Now this seems rude, especially considering Hannah’s negative reaction to it even going as far as to remind her that romances don’t fare well at Bly. However, I feel like Jamie does this purposefully to see if Owen would provide any reaction that would indicate that he would have any intent of pursuing Dani, which he quickly shuts down as he states that he only has eyes for Hannah. Jamie’s choice to do this can boil down to a simple poking of fun or maybe something more in terms of her trying to understand, and maybe even deny, the gravitational pull that she’s feeling towards Dani by deflecting it to Owen. 

This episode also offers the first glimpse into Jamie’s humanity and her deeply empathetic nature. As a distressed Dani storms outside in tears after being triggered from seeing her dead ex-fiancé’s glasses, our favorite gardener comes to the rescue with buckets in hand. Now this is probably the first time that Dani has physically seen Edmund’s glasses since she packed them away before leaving Bly which can explain her intense reaction to finding Flora wearing them. The part to highlight about this interaction between Jamie and Dani isn’t the fact that Jamie tries to console her but is the way that she does so. First and foremost, the gardener tries to make au pair laugh. She makes multiple attempts in her dialogue to make Dani crack the slightest smile. Jamie’s dialogue saying, “there we are,” after Dani finally gives into the attempted jokes shows how laughter was Jamie’s initial goal. 

“How else do you think I keep all these fucking plants watered? With my endless well of deep inconsolable tears. That’s how. It’s what got me the job in the first place.” 

After she accomplishes this, she goes on to relate to Dani by telling her that she cries several times a day in an effort to make Dani feel normal and not alone in her vulnerable state. To see someone as cold and guarded as Jamie admit to something like this quickly humanizes her and puts her in the position of becoming a dynamic character. Finally, Jamie tells the au pair that she’s doing a great job and leaves a smiling Dani to watch her as she leaves. This offers insight to how Jamie doesn’t like seeing people in distress. She radiates a grounding energy and puts it upon herself to ensure that no one feels like they’re in over their head. 

Dani is able to return the favor as she finds an angry Jamie kneeled over a massacre of her rose bushes. Jamie’s hotheaded attitude is shown as she wastes no time getting up to confront Miles for cutting her roses before they were ready. The point to highlight in this moment is that Dani hears her out. Dani listens to Jamie’s grievances and not once tells her that she’s overreacting. Dani hasn’t known Jamie for long but she knows the importance of plants to the gardener and she doesn’t give Miles a pass at ruining something that matters so much to her. Having two separate scenes showing that each half of the pair have the power to talk each other down regardless of having known each other long, serves as a taste as what’s to come for their journey together. 

Episode Three

Here we see “testing of the waters: part two” as the keepers of Bly watch over a sleeping Miles and Flora by a crackling fireplace. A tired Hannah rests her head on Owen’s shoulder as Dani and Jamie watch from across the room. Jamie goes onto ask Dani if she wishes she were leaning on Owen instead of Hannah and explains how every woman in town fawns over Owen without him even knowing it. This key moment goes hand in hand with Jamie’s testing of the waters in episode 2 when she tests Owen’s potential attraction to Dani to now testing to see if Dani would be interested in Owen. Jamie’s subtle comments allow her to see the odds of Dani liking Owen without risking any awkward interaction that would potentially be too invasive. With Owen being the only man in the house, it’s understandable for Jamie to want to see if Dani would pursue him which in turn would signal that Dani may not be interested in someone like her.

What comes next is what I like to believe is the moment that Jamie begins to fall for Dani and I mean really fall for her. The conversation about love and possession is beautifully done and sets the distinction that will go onto separate Peter and Rebecca from Dani and Jamie. After a vindictive history lesson on the toxicity of Peter and Rebecca’s relationship, Jamie mentions the idea of loving someone versus possessing someone to which Dani replies that she doesn’t believe should be possible. The effect of this is seen on Jamie’s face as she looks at Dani. It’s a face that says that she’s staring at someone who understands. Understands the fragility of love and the thin lines that separate healthy versions of love from toxic ones. It happens in the span of a second but we can see a switch click in Jamie’s mind just before she breaks her gaze. From what we collect of Jamie’s past a few episodes later, we come to understand that she has always been owned. Stemming from a broken home and growing up in the foster care system, Jamie has always been someone else’s possession to claim ownership of but never was truly loved and nurtured. To hear someone finally understand that there’s a distinction between loving someone versus feeling like they have the right of possessing them, must feel like a moment of overdue comfort. 

After a restless night due to seeing Edmund’s ghost again, Dani wakes up the following morning to see Jamie asleep on the couch. This scene lasts merely thirty seconds so why make the choice to keep it in? What significance does it really hold? Is there any significance at all? For me, the significance is comfort. I feel like there’s a level of comfort that Dani feels when she realizes that Jamie was just down the stairs as she laid awake the night prior feeling as if she were alone in the depths of her own shadows. 

The new day ends in the tragic news that Owen’s mom has passed away. After a sympathetic Hannah sends Owen off and leaves to light a candle for the deceased, the gardener and au pair are left to give their own goodbyes to each other. As Dani voices that she’s glad that Jamie stayed on the grounds throughout the day and the night prior, Jamie agrees and the two share an uninterrupted gaze at one another. Here is where we see Dani’s first advance as she takes hold of Jamie’s hand. Ever so slightly does Jamie latch back before Dani quickly pulls away. 

“Who the hell knew?”

Those words leave Jamie’s mouth as a mixture of relief and shock paint her face as she gets into her car. Dani watches her drive away with an expression that reads “did I really do what I think I just did?” This moment is cut short as she turns around to see Edmund’s ghost staring blankly from behind her. Fear overcomes Dani and a scream is let out as Edmund gets sucked backwards by an invisible force. Up until this point, Edmund’s ghost has remained stagnant, either appearing in a reflection or in parts. This extreme motion of getting pulled backward into the manor can be read as a way to reflect the intensity of the emotions that Dani is feeling in that exact moment. The amount of tension that Dani must have felt to muster up the courage to reach for Jamie’s hand must have been extremely intense which in turn would evoke an intense manifestation of Edmund’s ghost. 

Episode Four 

Episode four is what I call the episode of guilt. In this hour, we delve deeper into Dani’s past and the darkness that she’s been holding in her heart. Dani’s life just before Bly is revealed and we see snippets of her life with Edmund. From childhood best friends to teenage lovers to getting engaged, Dani and Edmund almost seemed like the perfect set up to an 80s romcom. Almost is the key word here as it’s revealed that Dani breaks up with Edmund just before he storms out of their car into the path of an oncoming truck, killing him right in front of her thus revealing why Edmund is haunting her. Flashforward to Bly, Dani has begun to see Edmund’s ghost more and more. His first appearance in the episode is in Dani’s bedroom mirror just as Jamie helps unzip her dress. If it weren’t apparent in the episodes prior, Dani holds an immense amount of guilt. This guilt doesn’t only stem from being the reason why Edmund was killed but also lies in who she is. Edmund’s presence is symbolic for the guilt that Dani feels whenever she is just on the brink of exploring her sexuality. We see that every interaction that Dani has with Edmund’s ghost occurs just after she shares a moment with Jamie. With Jamie being a tangible representation of what Dani desires, her visions of Edmund become more intense and more frequent as her guilt increases. 

The episode continues to show Dani experiencing Edmund’s haunting again when Jamie arrives back to the manor after attending Owen’s mom’s funeral. Here we see Dani catching herself staring at Jamie from across the table. When Jamie catches her gaze, Dani retreats to the sink where we see a mixture of nervousness and excitement across Dani’s face as she looks over her shoulder to take one more look. This moment filled with butterflies and yearning is cut short as Edmund’s hands slide across Dani’s hips as she sees him in a reflection which causes her to panic. Edmund’s presence is growing closer and stronger as Dani has begun to navigate her feelings for Jamie.

In a flashback, we get a glimpse into possibly one of the first times that Dani’s internal conflict of her sexuality crosses her mind. As Dani gets a dress fitted, the female tailor makes flirtatious passes at her. We see Dani acknowledge these advances and isn’t opposed to them occurring. The scene switches to a guilt stricken Dani, her eyebrows furrowed above saddened eyes that wander upward to Jamie who’s helping prep the table for dinner. This quick glance up to Jamie holds so much. The internal turmoil that Dani is feeling in this moment is palpable. To think that all of her moments of repression have led up to this. This feeling of wanting. This feeling of yearning. To live openly and authentically as the person she’s always been.

Later that night, the keepers of Bly hold a bonfire to honor those that they’ve lost. A weight can be felt on the four as they remember their late loved ones by the warmth of the fire. The concept of found family lies in the heart of those who find a home at Bly and can be seen through Hannah and Jamie’s odes to the late Rebecca, Dominic, and Charlotte. 

“Because from here on in, the shadows get deeper… the nights get longer. We’re heading into the dark and we have to hang onto each other. So, we can only carry so much.”

As they commemorate who they’ve lost, Jamie mentions Dani and how she believes that Dani is the key to getting Miles and Flora back to themselves. A moment of pain rushes across Dani’s face as Jamie states how she believes that Dani is stronger than she thinks. To be in the midst of an internal conflict yet hear how someone believes in your strength can be something so painful to hear as you struggle to believe it yourself. We see Dani in a battle with herself as she fights to live authentically regardless of the guilt she’s carrying. 

Eventually, the gardener and the au pair break away from Owen and Hannah to go to the greenhouse. A pivotal moment in the growth of Dani and Jamie’s relationship occurs here when Dani makes the decision to lay everything out on the table for Jamie and finally explain her history with Edmund as well as sometimes seeing his ghost. 

“I’ve never told anybody that.”

These words that leave Dani’s mouth are so intimate and so vulnerable. Jamie takes what she’s being dealt and handles it with such a level of care that ensures that Dani knows that she’s being heard and respected. As we’ve seen Jamie talk Dani down from a breakdown in episode 2, we see a parallel here where Jamie takes it upon herself to make Dani laugh in an effort to console her. This moment is cut short as Dani musters the courage to ask the heartbreaking question that allows Jamie to make the decision whether to take or leave Dani and all of her baggage.

“Think I’m crazy?”

The pain in Dani’s face as she asks this shows just how scared she is to be rejected by the one person she wants the most. Without even a hint of hesitation, Jamie reassures her that nothing has changed in her view of Dani’s strength. A wave of relief comes over Dani as she’s hit her tipping point of acting upon the feelings she’s been suppressing all this time. She kisses Jamie and a moment of vulnerability is shown on Jamie’s face as she gets the confirmation that Dani is sure in her decision to do this. This moment is short lived by Edmund’s ghost appearing just behind Jamie, causing Dani to retreat in a panic. This is probably the worst cockblock in the history of cockblocks. Dani quickly retreats as Jamie mirrors her actions and immediately puts her walls back up as embarrassment sinks into them both in different directions. As the pair make it back to Hannah and Owen, Dani is visibly disappointed with how things ended up. Jamie’s comment of “it’s all good” as she guides Owen away from the bonfire shows how she would prefer to move on right away instead of confronting the confusing messages she’s just received from Dani. 

The final scene of the episode is what I like to call Dani’s last straw. Dani’s guilt has turned to anger as she makes the decision to confront her own shadows by throwing Edmund’s glasses into the bonfire. Flashbacks of kissing Jamie intercut the scene to really solidify Dani’s desires to move on and be able to freely love her without the burden of her past. 

“It’s just you and me then.”

Dani is tired. She’s waited for this moment. She’s finally accepted this part of her and she stares straight into Edmund’s ghost without any more fear. She’s found the strength to move on. 

Episode Six

The sponsor of this episode is cement as Dani and Jamie cement their relationship in this hour. The episode begins with Dani’s attempt at reconciliation after the unfortunate cockblock of a certain dead ex-fiancé in episode four. Dani wakes up at the crack of dawn to visit Jamie in her greenhouse. Dani’s entire existence in this moment is ridden with nervousness as she puts on her best “everything is normal” face. Jamie is quick to notice how out of character waking up this early is for Dani to which Dani dismisses. We see that Jamie’s cold and guarded exterior is back and for good reason considering the unfortunate events at the end of her and Dani’s last interaction.  Dani’s eagerness to patch things up puts her through several attempts at getting a reaction out of Jamie, each of which ends up being shut down. First is the gesture of giving Jamie coffee which results in her gently spitting it back into the cup. Next is Dani’s attempt at voicing how lonely she’s been.

“No Owen. No you.”

Dani’s voice drags on a little longer here to emphasize how Jamie’s absence the last few days have created a noticeable emptiness at the manor. Jamie responds with a simple “sometimes people wanna be alone” which seems like her own personal choice. However, Dani finally gets a reaction through Jamie’s icy exterior when she makes her laugh after a terrible attempt at a British accent. This mirrors the other instances prior where Jamie has made the effort to make Dani laugh in order to ease any emotional tension. After the ice has been broken, we see Dani’s first wind of confidence as she asks Jamie out to a boring ol’ date at a boring ol’ pub. We can see relief and a sense of pride strewn across Dani’s face when Jamie catches her drift. This marks the beginning of a fresh start for the two. 

The next time we see the pair is in the kitchen as Jamie surprises Dani by coming back to the manor after initially leaving.

“Made it halfway home and I thought ‘rough day, maybe Poppins might fancy a little boredom.’”

Dani’s shocked excitement quickly turns into awkward nervousness as Hannah and Owen wave them away to spend time together. Jamie gently takes Dani’s hand and guides her out of the room. This presents the reaffirmation that Jamie still cares enough to try again with Dani.  

The gardener leads the au pair somewhere off on the grounds of Bly to a secret area where moonflowers have bloomed. She explains how difficult they are to grow in England and how fragile their lifespan is. 

“That’s a lot of work for a flower that only blooms once.”

“That’s what people feel like to me. Exhaustive effort, very little to show for it.”

“All of them?”

“All of them. Even you. Even me… especially me.”

Jamie’s emphasis on herself shows her insecurity of not being enough after anyone makes the effort to break down her walls and gets to know who she really is. What follows is a tear-jerking speech that gives insight on Jamie’s past and her painful upbringing. From the details of her childhood like growing up in a broken home, being forced into foster care, and serving time in jail, we begin to understand why she puts such a strong, guarded front. The absence of a family unit in her youth and young adulthood has resulted in her feeling like she may be unlovable. Like she might not be worth the effort of loving. Just as Dani did in episode four, this is Jamie laying everything out on the table for Dani to decide whether or not she will take or leave Jamie and all of her baggage. After Jamie finishes her monologue, Dani gets up and doesn’t say a word. She takes hold of Jamie and kisses her. No words can alleviate the pain that Jamie’s endured but the effort of loving her can be a start. Dani pulls away for a brief moment to reveal a relieved Jamie smiling back at her after she has realized that Dani has chosen to accept her for everything that she is. 

The next scene they have together is the morning after Dani finally gets her first restful night’s sleep. 

“The au pair could not remember that last time she’d slept this well. And she thought perhaps she never had.”

The moment to highlight in this short scene is Dani stopping to look at herself in the mirror. She is finally able to see her truest self without being haunted of guilt. She smiles as she looks at her reflection and to a sleeping Jamie in the bed next to her. She’s finally made peace with herself. 

The final Dani and Jamie scene of the episode occurs at the end of the day just as Dani puts Flora to bed. Here we see the purity in the relationship that the two are creating. We see Dani unapologetically long for Jamie as she says she’s going to leave for the night. The au pair’s subtle look at the gardener’s lips as she speaks and the inching closer and closer to her shows just how high Dani’s confidence levels have risen to after being able to finally love freely. To see Dani in such a smitten state of mind is a breath of fresh air for not only herself but for us, the viewers, who have seen her in such a trapped state of mind when it comes to loving someone. The innocence of longing, in tandem of making the promise of spending other nights together, show how much care and caution they are taking in order to ensure that they’re building their relationship in a healthy manner. What they are both experiencing shows a trade off of what they each have to give to the other. Dani has accepted her sexuality, which is something that seems like Jamie has already done long ago. Meanwhile, Jamie is being loved and wanted, potentially for the first time which is something that Dani has already experienced in her past. Each half of the pairing offers support and guidance to the other as they begin their journey as a couple. 

Episode Nine

This final episode of the season was an absolute doozy in terms of Dani and Jamie’s relationship. I’ve watched all of these scenes a solid million times over and I bawl my eyes out every. damn. time. But I mopped up my tear-soaked notebook and carried on for the purpose of this essay. The episode picks up action as Flora sacrifices herself to save Dani from being dragged and choked to death by Viola, the Lady of the Lake. As Jamie and Owen arrive back at the manor after both having awful dreams, they briefly see Hannah as she says that they’re needed at the lake. Jamie bolts the second she hears Dani yelling. She knows Dani’s in trouble and wastes absolutely zero time trying to find her. Jamie yells Dani’s name and you can feel that her sense of urgency has one goal in mind: save Dani. 

“It’s you. It’s me. It’s Us.”

Viola has accepted the au pair’s offer. Besides Flora, Jamie is the only witness to see Dani’s last moment of belonging to only herself. From this point on, the darkness begins to fester deep within Dani’s soul and Jamie must live knowing that there was nothing that she could do as she watched Dani let part of herself go to let Viola in. Jamie runs into the lake as Dani’s trauma starts almost immediately. Her breathing is quickened, and she can’t stop repeating those final words that she felt deep in her bones. The gardener holds the au pair and takes one look at her as she already notices the effects of trauma. Dani’s darting eyes are panicked as she struggles to register that Jamie is there with her. Her breathing finally slows as Jamie holds her close in her attempts to calm her down. Jamie is Dani’s grounding force in this moment. Dani has finally freed the ghosts of Bly but at the cost of her own self. Her own life for the souls of the others. 

The following scene highlights the days following the incident at the lake, immediately starting with Jamie and Owen looking into the well to find Hannah’s dead body. I wanted to highlight this moment just for the sake of Jamie for she has been there to witness all the deaths of her loved ones firsthand. She was the first adult to find Rebecca in the lake, one of the first to find Hannah in the well, and the first to see Dani die in more ways than one. She just can’t seem to catch a break but after all… death is beautiful, it’s natural.

Jamie finds Dani as she packs away her things however, Dani’s mind appears to be somewhere else. Darkness has begun to burrow itself into Dani’s soul. She’s shaking. She’s terrified. She’s mourning the loss of herself. 

“I feel her. In here. It’s so quiet, it’s so quiet, but she’s in here. And this part of her that’s in here, it isn’t… peaceful.”

Dani explains how Viola’s presence feels like a beast waiting for her in a thick jungle. She feels hopeless again but this time feels heavier than all the rest. She has something to lose here now. She has a relationship with Jamie to lose, she has an entire life to lose. It isn’t as simple as feeling the guilt of losing someone or the guilt of loving someone. This feeling isn’t human, this feeling of dread goes beyond what the stages of grief entails. Where is she to go if she can’t go within herself to find peace? 

“She’s gonna take me.”

A tear falls down Jamie’s face as these heavy words fall out of Dani’s mouth. This is the first hint of Jamie losing Dani. The fear of the inevitable fills the room with such a weight that no words can alleviate Dani’s pain. Yet Jamie tries. She tries her damn best. She offers her company with the seal of a pinky promise. She gives all that she can offer: herself and her love. Dani’s feeling of darkness doesn’t have to be lonely this time. 

After a final goodbye to Henry, Miles, and Flora, the gardener and the au pair set off to start their lives together as the image of Bly fades away into the distance. Their life together starts at a diner as Jamie plans their course of action, hoping to end up in Vermont to see snow by Christmas. Here we see Dani looking at her own reflection in the tableside jukebox before stopping Jamie as she worries that they’re planning too far ahead. Dani’s cautious. She doesn’t want to get either of their hopes up. 

“One day at a time is fine by me. As long as those days are with you, Poppins. One day at a time is what we’ve got.”

There’s a brightness in these words which in turn reflect onto them. There’s a light in this moment that shows that they haven’t lost their footing yet. And thus begins the final climb to their highest point before the tragedy that lies ahead occurs. We flashforward to a year later to The Leafling, the flower shop that the pair have opened up together. Dani is still Dani and Jamie is still Jamie but more in love this time than the last time and the time before that. 

“You see, I’m not sick of you. At all. I’m actually pretty in love with you, it turns out.”

Here we see the reintroduction of the moonflower. The symbol of Jamie and Dani’s love. The last time we saw the moonflower was back when the pair finally made the choice to accept one another and start their relationship. This time, we see the moonflower one last time as Jamie chooses to solidify their love by finally breaking the big L word. 

A montage ensues of the gardener and the au pair’s life together. Years have passed and peace was just finally in their grasp. Or so it seemed. This feeling of fluttering innocence is put to a halt as Dani sees Viola’s reflection in the door of the flower shop. Dani stops in her tracks as she stares at the reflection, her face is still as she stands in a quiet shock. That is until she sees Jamie through the door, smiling at her with such a playful gaze. This instance shows yet again that Jamie is Dani’s grounding force even after all this time and Dani’s own reflection returns not even a second later. This is a moment for the audience to take a peek into Jamie’s importance in Dani’s life, especially at a point that something so vengeful is making its way to the surface. To see Jamie’s smiling face cut through the image of the beast in the jungle, we can’t help but feel the same pain yet also the sense of relief that Dani must feel in this moment. Although Dani returns to herself, we can’t help but feel Viola’s presence looming. 

The scene that follows is another significant milestone in Dani and Jamie’s journey together as Dani comes back home with a dying plant that’s concealing an engagement ring. Above the surface, Dani has put the ring in a dying plant because she knew that Jamie would waste no time investigating how to save it. But this can also be interpreted in relation to Jamie’s moonflower speech where she says “every living thing grows out of every dying thing” to show how their relationship is taking the next step of growth as she pulls the ring out of a dying plant. The ring itself is a traditional Irish Claddagh ring, which shows how Dani did her research and chose a ring specific to Jamie’s northern heritage. The hands that make the band of the ring represents friendship, while the heart representing love, and the crown representing loyalty. These representations are fitting for the relationship that the pairing has created and for Dani’s proposal speech. 

“Here’s the thing - you’re my best friend and the love of my life. And I don’t know how much time we have left but however much it is, I wanna spend it with you.”

The thing to highlight about Dani and Jamie’s relationship is that it runs on Dani’s timeline which is something that is so important to showcase, especially considering how Edmund had made almost all the choices for her in her previous engagement. Jamie understands this and has always insured that Dani felt comfortable before progressing further into their relationship together. In this moment, Jamie finally has a promise of love while Dani has security in the person she loves the most. As Jamie accepts her proposal and the two share a moment of celebration, Dani’s face of worry as she hugs Jamie shows that she feels an inability to be fully happy. She’s unable to fully give herself to Jamie in this moment which in turn shows how Viola’s presence is getting closer and getting darker. 

We jump slightly forward in time to the pair visiting Owen’s aptly named restaurant, A Batter Place. After a moment of remembrance for Hannah, Dani looks into the reflection of a metal water pitcher to see Viola’s reflection yet again. Dani’s face is surprised by this sight, but she keeps it quietly to herself as to not ruin the moment of reunion. If we compare this instance to the first time Dani looked at her reflection at the tableside jukebox at the diner years prior, we can see that this moment is filled with much more darkness. The light that used to be inside of her is dimming. Although Jamie is holding her and is physically next to her in this moment, she doesn’t cut through the darkness anymore. Jamie’s power as a grounding force is dimming as well. 

“So, they’re all happy?”

The inflection in Dani’s voice here is so subtle that only Jamie takes notice of it. Jamie looks at Dani and senses that something has gone off in her. Owen continues to explain how Miles and Flora have no recollection of the events that took place at Bly. No recollection of the sacrifice that Dani made to save them. 

“So, if they don’t remember Hannah…they don’t remember…”

Dani’s voice trails off here. She looks down and is caught in the bitter realization that her sacrifice has been forgotten. This feeling of a looming darkness, this feeling of living a life that’s ticking down to her own demise… was it worth it? Jamie can feel Dani’s pain immediately as her eyes stayed glued on Dani who’s trying to see if there would be any way to remind Miles and Flora about what she did.  The gardener stares at au pair without breaking away and in this instant, we can see that, along with Dani, Jamie is breaking too. Breaking under the burden of knowing that she can’t take Dani’s pain away.

The scene that follows shows Dani washing dishes where she sees Viola again in the water. She panics and finally admits to Jamie that she’s been seeing her more and more. The tension that was present between them moments earlier immediately fades away as Jamie wastes no time in trying to console Dani. Jamie’s blind optimism here has a slight tinge of desperation as she refuses to let Dani slip away into the abyss that’s growing stronger and stronger. Dani’s interaction with Viola’s reflection in this moment sets off an alarm bell within her, unlike the other times where she sat quietly and dealt with it on her own. This is Dani’s tipping point. The highest level of fear is felt as the reality is beginning to sink in that the beast is coming for her. Another thing to note here is that even after all these years, Jamie still makes the conscious effort to make Dani laugh. 

“I’ll do the washing up from now on, yeah? You’re shit at it anyway.”

Dani can’t help but give the smallest laugh, but it’s more than enough for Jamie. Through Jamie’s optimism, we have begun to see that she’s not only consoling Dani but also herself as she tries to convince both of them that they can have so much more time together. The episode continues on with the train of heartbreak as Jamie comes home after receiving civil union paperwork for her and Dani. What comes next is what I feel like is the most heartbreaking Dani moment in the entire series. Dani stares deep into an overflowing bathtub where an ominous Viola stares back at her. Jamie is quick to bring Dani back to reality but Dani has lost her footing. Her hold on Viola has flipped to Viola having a hold on her. 

“It’s like every day I feel myself fading away, but I’m still here, and… I don’t really understand how that is.” 

The fear has withered away into emptiness as Dani struggles to stay afloat. We see Jamie so pained as she watches the light fade into a grey nothingness as she listens to Dani talk about how she is beginning to lose herself to the beast. 

“I’m not even scared of her anymore. I just stare at her, and it’s getting harder and harder to see me.” 

To listen to the love of her life slip away through her fingers has Jamie in a phase of denial as she continuously refuses to let Dani break apart. We see the gardener’s optimism wavering as she tries her best to help the au pair hold onto herself. Dani’s voice as she says Jamie’s name is filled with nothing but pure hopelessness and despair as she dips further and further into uncertainty. Yet Jamie doesn’t lose hope. Jamie would never give up on Dani as she repeats the words she told Dani in the diner all those years ago. 

“One day at a time.”

However, Jamie has run out of answers. She can only offer comfort now. 

Next we see Dani hit her lowest low as she is taken over by Viola and awakes to see that she almost strangled Jamie to death in their sleep. Dani is shocked and broken as she sits in the disbelief of what she almost did. The time has come. The beast has arrived. Viola has waited years until Dani was so broken down and so vulnerable, that she would finally be able to take her. However, we can’t help but believe that Dani fought off Viola this long thanks to the love her and Jamie shared.

The gardener wakes up the following morning to find an empty space next to her. She reaches to the empty space in the bed and then for the note left on the bedside table. It can only mean one thing: her biggest fear has come to light. With her strong will and determination, Jamie gives one final push and flies back across the pond to Bly to face what she’s been in fear of all this time. The amount of immense grief that is felt in this moment, to be at the same place that the love of her life began to be taken away from her all those years ago, must be incredibly damaging. The manor holds so much of Jamie’s life. She found her family there. She created a beautiful garden on those grounds. Her and Dani’s love blossomed on the same grounds that she first began to lose her that night at the lake. Jamie storms off to the edge of the water. Her face is so tired. She already knows what she’s going to find and yet she still doesn’t lose the hope that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be true. 

“The gardener said the words she’d heard those years ago; she willed it with everything she had. You, me, us. Us. ‘Take me with you,’ she cried in her heart. ‘Take me. Drag me down like you did the others.’ But the lady in the lake was different now – the lady in the lake was also Dani. And Dani wouldn’t. Dani would never.” 

The agony and desperation that we see Jamie endure in the moments that we see her find Dani laying at the very bottom of the lake is a type of pain that is unmatched from any other moment of pain that we’ve seen this season. Her muffled screams as she takes a hold of her heart, only to let her arms go in despair under the water is something so haunting yet so unbelievably moving to see her love so much considering how far she’s come from the cold and guarded gardener we saw all the way back in episode one. She would’ve given up everything. Absolutely everything to take Dani’s place. Given up everything to join Dani at the bottom of the lake. Unlike Peter with Rebecca, Dani could never take Jamie down to the depths. Dani could never harm a single soul, let alone the one person that mattered the most to her. By letting Jamie go and taking Viola’s place as the lady of the lake, Dani has broken the cycle of violence that’s haunted the grounds of Bly for centuries. As Jamie was the hero of Dani’s story, Dani will always be the hero to Jamie’s. 

The final act of the season ends with an older Jamie finishing her story to the wedding guests. 

“She would know nothing of the gardener, nothing of their life together. The details, the specific moments would all fade away. More time will pass, and the water will wash away the delicate features of her; of her beautiful, perfect face. But she won’t be hollow, nor empty. And she won’t pull others to her fate. She will merely walk the grounds of Bly, harmless as a dove, for all of her days. Leaving the only trace of who she once was in the memory of the woman who loved her most.”

We see an older Jamie comfort a teary-eyed Flora who is afraid of the time when she would also lose the love of her life. Jamie comforts her with advice that we can only ever assume she learned in her time with Dani. The final scene shows the gardener’s nightly routine as she stares into reflections, hoping to catch one last glimpse of the au pair. As she drifts away into sleep, a hand wearing a golden wedding ring rests gently on her shoulder. Our haunting love story has come to an end. And the rest? Well the rest… is confetti.