#and it's just the three of them running off together found family-ing it while also being hunted by makima

[therealslimshady]

It's really funny the way Denji was thinking of going on the run with that little girl at the beginning of chainsawman man. The universe really said YOU ARE GOING TO BE A BIG BROTHER WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT and then just kept throwing kids at him until one of them stuck

[nationalharryleague]

Christmas in Holmes Chapel

Pairing: Harry Styles x Y/N

Genre: Christmas fluff on top of Christmas fluff

Word count: 1.7K 

A/N: Hi everyone! This is something I wrote super quick because I was in the Christmas spirit! I was/am also quite drunk (so be nice)!! More of my better writing can be found in my masterlist and I would love to hear what you think ab this in my ask! Also shoutout to Liz (@kiwicherryallaboutharry​) and Morgan (@soullikestyles​) for beta-ing and being sweethearts!! Thank you for reading <3

***

Shouts of “they’re finally here!” were the first things she heard when Harry opened the door to his mum’s house. After two delayed flights, ten hours on a plane, and bumper to bumper traffic the entire way to Anne’s, they were in shambles. This was the first time the pair were spending Christmas with Harry’s family, and this was definitely not the way she wanted it to start. She almost started crying when Gemma took her into her arms after nearly running across the house to greet her.

“I’m so happy you two made it,” she smiled, rubbing Y/N’s tired back when she didn’t release from the hug right away. “I was afraid that you weren’t going to make it tonight.”

“I could cry, Gem. I'm so happy to be here right now,” she confessed honestly, exhaustion clear in her voice.

Gemma released her from the embrace when Harry tapped her on the shoulder. “Hello? I’m here too. Do you not miss your baby brother?” His voice dripped with sarcasm and his dimples were deep on his cheeks, as they always were when he was home.

She rolled her eyes at him, muttering sarcastically “not as much as I missed your lovely girlfriend,” before he pulled her into a hug of his own. The two were the spitting image of each other, both with their exceptionally similar smiles and adorable noses. He squeezed the smaller woman tight, enjoying their reunion after not seeing each other for at least three or four months. They were still so close, even after Harry’s move to LA to be closer to his girlfriend. Y/N had pretended more than once that she hadn’t overheard them when he would call her for relationship advice.

Looking away from the Styles siblings, she was met by Anne's bright smile paired with her wide open arms extended for a hug. “Sweetheart, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed with a Santa hat sitting snugly on her head, pulling her close to the woman’s warm and kind body. “There are plates of dinner made up for the two of you in the kitchen and plenty of leftovers in the fridge if you want any more.” She was naturally so caring about those around her and tonight was no different.

“Thank you so much, Anne,” she said graciously. “I’m so sorry we’re so late.”

“Oh, stop it. It’s a Christmas miracle you made it at all with the snow,” she brushed away her apologies, her voice taking a more serious turn as she locked her eyes with hers. “I’m so happy you’re here, Y/N. You’re just as much a part of our family as Harry is now.”

Y/N’s heart warmed with the kindness behind Anne’s words. There was so much love surrounding her right now, too much for her to comprehend without getting teary eyed. She was so thankful for the tenderness and care Harry’s family had shown her over the last three years. She felt at home in what used to just be a house to her; like she was a part of the family.

“Oi, stop hogging her,” Harry teased Y/N, bumping her hip lightly with his and nudging her out of the way so he could hug his mum.

“Harry Edward, I raised you to be polite. Leave the poor girl alone,” she scolded, but opened her arms up wide to receive her son. He was so much bigger than she was, seeming to swallow her body whole in his arms. Y/N couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips as she watched the two interact.

The pair of travelers were passed around the living room, giving hugs and kisses to the various aunts, uncles, cousins, and stragglers that were attending Christmas Eve dinner at Anne’s. The room was full of loud boisterous laughter and Christmas music that played off an antique record player and it smelled like wine and the remnants of a large dinner that had been eaten when they just couldn’t wait any longer for the two to arrive.

Y/N’s stomach growled without permission as soon as she saw the plates of food resting on the counter that had been waiting for them. The pair stood hovered over the plates and ate like they hadn’t seen food in weeks. At the moment, she could only think of two things she knew about Anne for sure: she knew how to raise children and she was a fantastic cook.

When she looked up and saw a spot of gravy hanging on the edge of Harry’s mouth, she just couldn’t resist. She tiptoed and pressed a short kiss to the corner of his lips, taking the gravy with her in the process. He looked down at her with a slightly surprised, but mostly loving, look after she pulled away. The edges of his lips turned up, asking “What was that for?”

“You had something,” she mused, jokingly twirling her pointer finger in the direction of her own mouth.

Before she could process it, his lips were back on hers, kissing her slowly and with so much love. His lips were soft and pillowy as always, but there was something more behind them that she just couldn’t place.

“What was that for?” she asked breathlessly when he released her, using his own words against him.

“I know I have been kind of on edge all day and I just wanted to thank you for dealing with me. I love you so much.” She couldn’t fight the grin that found its way onto her face every time he told her that he loved her. Sometimes she still couldn’t believe she had nabbed such a good one.

“I love you too. Are you alright?” She asked worriedly, noticing the way his eyebrows were nervously knit together and how his posture was slightly worsened like it always was when he was stressed.

“I’ll be okay soon.” There was more behind his words, she knew it for sure, but Harry was very good at playing it cool when he wanted to. She knew he would either tell her soon or it would resolve on its own; she trusted him to tell her what was going on if he really needed her.

Her train of thought was interrupted when Gemma stuck her head into the kitchen and announced that the annual Charades tournament was beginning. Y/N had only heard about the myth of the Charades tournament before and she was excited to find out why her boyfriend raved about it so often. Harry excitedly grabbed her hand, leading her into the crowded living room, watching as the first teams had already begun acting out and guessing.

Before long, it was Harry and Y/N’s turn to go, matched up against Gemma and her husband. She sat on the couch, assigned to play the guesser after he cockily told her ‘there's only one actor in this family,’ and watched closely as both Harry and Gemma read the clue written on the small slip of paper. Gemma gave him a playful and excited smile before extending a friendly hand for him to shake.

“You ready for this, H?” she asked, but once again, Y/N felt like there was more behind her words than friendly competition. Y/N began to think she was being kept in the dark about something, but before she could think too hard about it the pair had begun their miming.

Harry took the approach of creating a circle with his pointer and thumb, repeatedly slipping the whole he had created over his left ring finger.

“Wedding ring!” she guessed excitedly from the couch, only to be met with a shake of his head.

He then moved to get down on one knee, pretending to hold a ring box in his hands. “Asking someone to marry you!” she questioningly yelled again, only met with another shake of his head, but she could tell she was getting closer.

It was when he performed the same ring gesture while on his knee that she got it. “Engagement ring!” She nearly screamed and jumped off the couch, twirling in celebration (a symptom of always being a bit too competitive) after Harry’s face lit up and signaled they had won.

She was confused for a split second when she came back around and Harry was still on his knee, but it all made sense when she saw the real ring box that was now in his hands. Her hands flew up to her face in shock and she was unable to form coherent thoughts, let alone words.

“My love,” he began softly, “I knew I wanted you in my life forever from the moment I met you at that stupid bar. I fought Mitch so hard that night, but he dragged me along and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She remembered that night fondly, but it had admittedly been a mess. She had just gotten dumped and so had Harry, when they found each other at the end of the bar, far away from anyone who was actually having fun, they had started talking and never stopped.

“You make me a better person,” he went on as tears had begun to roll down her cheeks, “and I never want to be who I was before I met you ever again. I love you so much and I never want to live without you. So,” he took a deep breath with hopeful eyes, “will you marry me?”

A shout of “Yes!” let her lips before he even finished, throwing herself at him and bringing him into a kiss.

It all made sense now. She understood why Harry had been so upset when their flight had been messed up, and why Gemma and Anne had been so excited to see them, and especially why he had been on edge all day. He was nervous to ask her, in the most charming and endearing way.

The crowd around them cheered when they finally stood up and their eyes locked as Harry delicately slid the ring onto her left hand. His eyes were slightly teary, but held an excitement that was unmatched. The ring was giant and beautiful, exactly what she expected from him when the time came, and she could barely tear her eyes away from it.

“This is the best Christmas present ever, H. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Thank you for reading! Reblogs/feedback are much appreciated!! 

[blueskrugs]

Tim McGraw | Brock Boeser

ahhhh! this is the first fic of the swift series! I can’t believe I am actually going to try and pull this off for the next five months. I hope you guys like it and big shoutout to @broadstbroskis for being my sounding board throughout all this fic planning and then beta-ing this!

length: 1.6k words

But when you think Tim McGraw,  I hope you think my favorite song

Falling in love with Brock was easy. 

It was the summer before your sophomore year of college, on the precipice of both your lives changing, though neither of you knew it at the time. 

Time seemed to move slower that summer, long sunny days blending into bonfire nights out by the lake, September nothing more than a distant day on the calendar. You watched as Brock’s hair turned more blond and his shoulders turned more tan, hours outside in the sun doing their job. 

You remembered the first time Brock kissed you; you weren’t sure it was something you’d ever forget. You’d spent weeks dancing around each other, learning each other, had spent an entire Fourth of July party practically glued to each other’s sides. It seemed more than inevitable by the time it finally happened.

He called you late one night, woke you up and begged you to meet him down at the lakefront. You went, because of course you did, met him down at the dock, where he was waiting with a pile of blankets in the speedboat his family used. He tossed you one of his UND hoodies with a grin before helping you onto the boat. You settled into the nest of blankets in the prow as Brock carefully steered the boat out from the dock and into the middle of the lake. 

It was a clear night, the stars and the full moon shining brightly against the still, dark lake, and a quiet one. The only sounds filling the air were the quiet hum of the boat’s motor and Brock’s country playlist playing quietly from his phone, neither quite loud enough to drown out the constant buzz of the cicadas. 

Brock cut the motor and came to sit behind you. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist. He was warm and solid behind you, and you were both quiet for a moment, just listening to the music.

“This is one of my favorite songs,” you murmured, as Tim McGraw’s “Humble and Kind” started filtering through the speakers.

“I know,” Brock said simply. You didn’t remember telling him that. You could hear his heartbeat beneath your ear, steady and calm. 

You were caught up in trying to remember when you’d told Brock your favorite song when he shifted a little behind you. You twisted in his arms to see what was the matter, but then he was kissing you, softly in the moonlight, and you didn’t get the chance.

“Wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted after he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. His breath fanned across your face when he breathed out a sigh. Tim McGraw was still playing somewhere behind you.

“I would’ve let you,” you said back.

Brock breathed out a laugh and kissed you again, one hand tangled in your hair, the other still wrapped around your waist.

And I was right there beside him all summer long,  And then the time we woke up to find that summer gone

For all that that summer seemed endless while it was happening, it ended abruptly, shattering the peaceful love you and Brock had been building out on the lake. 

You snuck out one last time, both of you dressed in something other than a swimsuit for once, spent the night in each other’s arms with your bare feet dangling in the lake off the dock, the stars and the moon lighting your way once again.

You weren’t sure you’d ever look at the summer stars the same way when you were older.

Brock went back to UND. Your family moved away from Minnesota. Summer romances were never meant to last, you told yourself, as you left yours in the dust.

Brock promised he would keep in touch, pressed a green UND hoodie into your hands and a goodbye kiss to your lips. You smiled at him, because you knew it would never last, and it didn’t. Brock had other things to focus on, hockey and his future. It was only a matter of time until he forgot you. 

You spent a lot of time wearing that hoodie he gave you in the beginning, more time than you cared to admit. You spent more time crying than you cared to admit, too. You kept wearing it long after it stopped smelling like Brock and summer, until it was almost nothing to you and the comfort of it was gone. Almost.

Brock’s texts trickled to a stop before Christmas, but you couldn’t blame him. You’d always had a feeling that this– whatever this had been– had meant more to you than it had to him.

You couldn’t bring yourself to stop following him, though, not even when your friends and family gave you pitying looks, not when UND got booted out of the championship tournament. “He’s just a boy,” they’d say, but they also say you never forget your first love, don’t they? You watched his first NHL game, at home in Minnesota, his first NHL goal, too. And if you cried a little, well, at least there was no else around to see it. 

Years passed, and, slowly, you moved on. Brock’s sweatshirt made its way to the back of your closet. You fell in love again, fell out of love. Stopped loving Brock. You graduated college. You never did go back to the lake, wondered if Brock ever had. If he’d waited for you, or if he’d moved in and found another girl to spend the summer with. For the most part, you forgot about Brock. Forgot about his laugh, about the way he’d roll his eyes when you teased him. How he knew your favorite songs. You did your best to, at least. It was easier said than done for a long time.

But in a box beneath my bed, there’s a letter that you never read from three summers back It’s hard not to find it all a little bittersweet...

You were cleaning out your old bedroom at your parents’ house when you found it. It was a letter you’d written to Brock after that summer, when you were confused and lonely, filled with all the things that you didn’t have the courage to say to his face. It was in an envelope, addressed and stamped, but you’d never planned on sending it. In all the chaos of moving that fall, it had gotten thrown in a box and shoved under your bed to be forgotten. 

You remembered every word you’d written, but you carefully pulled it out anyway. You read that letter again and again over the next few days, always pausing on the last words you wrote before you signed your name: “I love you.”

It was another several days before you pulled out a clean sheet of paper and a pen, wrote a continuation to that letter. You’d loved Brock once, yes, but you didn’t anymore, not in the same way. There were no tears left in this story. He’d always be your first love, and you’d always want the best for him. You just no longer felt your heart break every time you thought of him, and you hadn’t for a long time. 

You hoped that he was happy out there in Vancouver, living his dream.

And there’s a letter left on your doorstep, And the first thing that you’ll read...

“Brock, there’s a letter for you!” his mom called through the house.

“Who sends letters anymore?” he asked, which earned him a smack with the envelope. He took it from his mom anyway. The return address was unfamiliar, out-of-state, and there was no name, but he felt like he’d seen the handwriting somewhere before. He took the envelope out on the back deck with Coolie, carefully slid his thumb under the flap and opened it.

A picture slid out from in-between two folded pieces of paper when he tugged them out. It took only a quick glance at it to tell him exactly who had sent him this letter. It was a picture of the two of you at that Fourth of July party you’d spent together all those summers ago. Brock had spent the entire day trying not to kiss you right there in front of everyone.

Brock smiled at the picture for a moment. His arms were wrapped around your shoulders, your hands reaching up to grasp his. You were both laughing at some joke long forgotten. He didn’t even remember anyone taking the picture. He carefully set it aside to turn his attention to the letter. He read in silence as the afternoon sun slowly dipped lower in the sky. Coolie was off somewhere in the grass, having found a stick to chew on.

Brock read the letter, then again. He stared at your name on the bottom of each page for a minute before carefully refolding them. He whistled once for Coolie, who came running, still carrying the stick. 

“Where are you off to?” his mom asked as he made his way back into the house and grabbed his car keys.

“For a drive.”

When you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think of me

The letter was tossed in his glovebox. Brock plugged in his aux, pulled up Spotify, and scrolled all the way down to his country playlist. There was a song on there he didn’t listen to very often, could never really explain why he always skipped it, but right now he clicked on it and turned the volume up.

“Always stay humble and kind,” sang Tim McGraw as he put his car and drive and allowed himself to remember, just this once.

[imaginationjunkie]

Say the word

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s kinda heartwarming

I tried to control my fast breaths, lifting my head from the crook of Jason’s neck to give him a lazy kiss. Deliriousness coursed through our veins, minds hazy from the aftermath bliss of an intimate climax.

Being apart for weeks for his mission and my conference clearly had one gigantic perk- the mad intense I-missed-you-so-fucking-much sex.

It doesn’t matter if it was the first or the thousandth time, the feeling of his body against mine never failed to weaken my limbs to mush and warm my heart, like it’s soup being heated up on a stove.

A smile split my lips as I tried lifting my naked body up from his chest, and failing. The thick, muscular arms that were tightly wrapped around my waist stopped me from doing so. It made me smile wider and lean down to put my lips on Jason’s.

“You know you’re gonna have to stop doing that right?” I murmured, running my fingers through his dark raven locks. A chaste kiss was placed on my cheek by his smirking lips.

“Hmm? Doing what?”

I leaned down so that our bare chests pressed against each other, lips hovering over his. My whisper was naughty as I answered him.

“Why should I? We both seem to like it so very much,” Jason nuzzled his nose against mine with a mischievous smirk.

“Because if by any chance I get preggers before marriage, my parents will chase you to the ends of the earth and decapitate the crap out of you,” I whispered jokingly, but meant every word. “And then after they’re done with you, they’ll feed me to the demons.”

My ever-so-daring boyfriend’s reply was to lowly chuckle and simply kiss my shoulder. 

Affection came naturally to us now, especially since Jason had been touch starved practically since birth. The first few months of our relationship, I had to have a mental debate every time before touching him; how far I should go with the cuddling, to hold his hand or not, put my legs on his body while cuddling or not...

Unlike his brother Dick, who much to Jason’s irritation loved pulling me into a tight hug every time we met, Jason just wasn’t the affectionate type.

After a few months, I understood how badly he needed to be touched- to be loved, to be comforted. When he got the message that it’s okay to hold me as much as he wants, that there’s finally someone he can lose himself in, someone he can love, he found a way to touch me every spare moment we spent together. Kissing my neck, nuzzling his nose, holding my hips, putting his large hand on the small of my back or around my waist, constantly lifting me onto his lap- the list’s never ending.

“I’m serious, a child out of wedlock is beyond just a sinful taboo in my family,” I booped his nose, leaning my forearms on his chest to hold my upper body up.

Jason pretended to be lost in thought for a while before suddenly rolling our bodies over to our sides, the ridges and sinewy muscles of his defined chest flush against my back. He tucked the messy portion of my hair out of the way before kissing from my neck up to the back of my ear. 

“Well since marriage is out of the question, I’ve no option than to not make my pull out game weak,” his tongue darted out to lick my ear teasingly.

Ignoring the pang that hit my heart at his statement about marriage, I turned to swat his chest teasingly. My lips were unable to hold back a grin at his reference to WAP .

“What? You’re the one who keeps dancing to it every morning,” Jason grinned back at me.

“It’s 4 am, we should sleep,” I shook my head at him, turning to face forward again. Jason and my shared bedroom turned dark as he flicked the dim bedside lamp off, making the glow of moonlight our only source of light.

The warmth from having his arms encased around me brought a serene feeling, making me think about how impossible it’d be to live without Jason Todd. 

“I love you,” he murmured against my neck.

My eyes closed shut, senses overwhelmed with the depth of my feelings.

“I love you,” I whispered back.

I had an amazing life- loving and supporting, albeit sometimes overbearing, parents, a great job, a pretty apartment, and a man I’m certain I’d love and be loved by for the rest of my life. For the entirety of my existence, I’ve had the one thing Jason never did- stability. 

But when it’s meant to be, it’ll always be. 

God, fate or whatever higher force is up there looking over us made sure to let our souls find each other. Cherish each other. 

I knew Jason’s views on marriage and children. It was hard enough for him to indulge himself with something as normal as a committed relationship, that too for two and a half years; but it’d actually be impossible for him to be a husband, a father. He didn’t have a basic job in the least, and thus didn’t think tying the knot and being a family man would be suitable for him. 

Ever since I was a little girl, one of the things I’ve wanted greatly was to be married to the man I loved someday. But for Jason I could give it up. I could give up the hopes of having a ring on my finger and a baby on my belly, because he means more to me than anything ever will.

¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡ ¡

*2 months later, New Year’s eve night at the Wayne Manor backyard*

“Damian, those aren’t fireworks, they’re explosives!”

At my alarmed exclaim, Dick quickly snatched the big box from his younger brother’s hands, waddling his finger as if to say ‘no no’.

“They’re fireworks,”  Jason assured from behind. “The kid and I labelled it explosives so Dick doesn’t steal it,”

Dick’s face scrunched up in confusion, “”Why would I steal your fireworks? I’ve better things to do for fu-”

“Miss, the barbecue is ready. Would you like to add the last bit of sauce on top?” The always-polite and everyone’s favorite Alfred smartly interrupted Dick from saying the curse word.

Every time I practically forced my boyfriend, his brothers and father into having a family night, Alfred let me help with the food; and since I suck beyond words at cooking, he always gave me the easy tasks to do.

Now if you’re thinking that prevented me from considering myself as the world’s second Martha Stewart, you’re wrong.

I clapped my hands together in delight, “I’d love to!”

“No she wouldn’t,” Jason, Dick and Tim said at the same time.

I turned to them, perplexed at their concurrent interference. 

Taking note of the unusual shiftiness in the boys’ stances, I raised a brow- “And why is that?”

Out of the three suspicious-looking brothers, Dick replied- “Because there’s only 20 minutes till midnight and you have to help us set the fireworks off!”

Now both my eyebrows rose, and I crossed my arms against my chest.

“So you’re telling me,” I said in slow amusement, dragging the words sarcastically. “That three of the strongest night vigilantes of Gotham, one being a violent nutcase once,” a look was thrown in Jason’s direction, “Needs an ordinary girl to set off fireworks?”

This time Tim responded, “Well you see, we’ve never set them off. None of us has ever had the chance to have a normal new years with fireworks and a countdown,”

“Really?” I deadpanned, voice turning into a shrill by the end of the question, “So have I been planning and working my ass off every new year’s for the past three years to make robots happy?”

Tim realized his mistake, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head before trying to redeem himself. “But we’ve never had a family new years, y’know, with the barbecue and fireworks,”

“Also, you’re nowhere near ordinary,” Jason added in a low voice as he came to stand behind me and kissed my temple. I rolled my eyes at the cheesiness, wrapping an arm around the middle of both the boys’ backs.

Right then Damian piped in, surprising everyone. “Plus you’re not a girl, you’re a woman,” he emphasized on the last word, making Jason scoff with a smirk and everyone else laugh.

It didn’t take long for me to grow on Damian, making him accept and like me. From what I heard from his brothers and Alfred, he didn’t like most people and never went easy on newcomers. I was especially concerned about getting Jason’s family to like me, since he didn’t have much of a good relationship with them and I wanted to change that. In the end everyone ended up accepting me; and gradually even treating me as one of their own. Dick and I were practically best friends.

Despite what he used to say, I knew Jason loved them all like they were his own blood; so I knew that it meant a great deal to him to rekindle his relationships with them.

Bruce Wayne’s voice spoke for the first time that evening, “Good evening, my apologies for the delay,”

An awkward silence took over our so-far cozy night. All of the boys looked other directions, not acknowledging their dad who never bothered to show up to any family days on time. I tried my best to knit the boys together, help them get close and create a bond; and saying that I succeeded wouldn’t be a lie. But the fact that Bruce couldn’t even take one day off from his billionaire/ vigilante duties sort of upset me every time.

Jason scoffed, his mouth opening to say something undoubtedly snarky to his father. But before he had the chance to I stepped on his shoe and gripped his hand tightly, silencing him.

“It’s okay Bruce, at least you made it,” I smiled.

The excruciatingly tense atmosphere was cracked by Dick, “I still need help with the fireworks, anyone up for it?”

“I’ll come!” I was quick to squeak and walk towards him.

“Me too,” Damian grumbled, following me.

Tim was the last one. “Yeah, me as well.”

“Great, so you guys do the fireworks and Jaybird and I will be right back!” Dick clapped his hands together in perky delight, pushing Jason’s back forward as they walked into the manor. From the distance, I saw Jason shrug Dick’s hand off before glaring at him. Again, confusion filled me at their strange behavior tonight.

“What was that about?” I asked Tim.

He smiled, “Nothing, probably just vigilante stuff.”

As the minutes passed by, the new year came nearer and nearer. The three of us successfully managed to set off the first batch of fireworks, looking up at the sky and laughing freely. Even Bruce had a small smile as he took a sip of his drink, looking up and the lit up sky with a hand in his pocket.

When it was about 10 minutes to the clock ticking 12:00 am, worry started to cloud the excitement I was feeling; but Tim and Damian were quick to distract it.

“Now can we do the grand purple one?” Damian gave me a rare pleading look.

“Yeah we can, but where’re Jason and Dick? They’re gonna miss new year’s,” I voiced my concern. 

Right then, my phone started ringing. 

Incoming video call from mom.

I answered, knowing that my parents were calling to say Happy New Year like they did every year. What rendered me surprised after receiving the call was that almost my entire family was on the frame of my mom’ video- two of my aunts, uncles and all the cousins I’m close to. Which are a lot.

I’m a family person, if you couldn’t tell already.

“Hi baby!” My mom grinned.

I grinned back, glee taking over the initial confusion.“Hey y’all! Are you having a New Years party without me?”

One of my younger cousins replied, “Sort of, now show us!”

My brows furrowed, “Show you what?”

A string of ‘oh shit’s sounded from mom’s side, further increasing my confusion.

Out of the blue, Dick intervened from behind me, “The fireworks of course!”

A sudden bang! took us all by surprise, and I looked up to see the huge purple fireworks lighting the dark canvas of the sky up. A wide grin split my lips, along with all the other boys as they whooped at the different shades of purple. It happened to be my favorite color. 

I felt the familiar warmth of Jason’s body against my back before hearing or seeing him. The digital clock on the top corner of my phone read 11:55 pm. Not being able to contain my excitement, I subconsciously shoved my phone to Tim, who was beside me, while my family was still on video. I raised a hand to point at the sky.

“Jay look, it’s all so purple!”

And then something happened. Something I wouldn’t even dream of imagining.

Jason’s larger hand rose to the level of mine, which was still pointing up at the sky. He spread my fingers out so that my hand was displayed open. I turned to look at my boyfriend, not quite understanding his intentions.

His eyes were trained on mine, a golden and purple reflection from the fireworks and balcony lights visible on the glossy blue orbs. 

Our eyes stayed on each other’s as I felt something cold graze the top of my ring finger.

In the background I heard Dick harshly whisper, “Tim, the song!”

I wasn’t dumb. I knew what my boyfriend was holding on top of that finger.

Jason’s lips were an inch away from my ear as he spoke clearly, not a hint of hesitation in his voice, “Just say the word, and I’ll put a ring on you.” 

I couldn’t even look at it as I tried to get over the giant bucket of emotions that was thrown over me. Shock, flabbergast, sheer happiness, disbelief, excitement, a rush of adrenaline. My heart threatened to beat the crap out of my chest.

“Jason,” I whispered, my eyes fluttering shut as he put his chin on my shoulder, inches from mine. “What. Are. You. Doing??”

He bit his lip, smiling before cryptically answering. “I love you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get married?” I questioned again. “Do you think I’m pregnant? Are you doing this cause-?” my voice was breathy.

Jason smirked, his unoccupied arm going round me from behind to rest on the other side of my waist. “No baby, I don’t. The twenty something negative pregnancy sticks on the bathroom trash sort of made it clear that you aren’t pregnant.”

I couldn’t hold back my own grin from his teasing. For the first time, I turned my head to look at our hands. The sky was phenomenal in the background of them, a swirl of blue, red and purple as Damian and Dick continued setting the fireworks off. Tim was holding my phone up to where Jason and I were standing, undoubtedly showing the scene to my family. Now I knew why they were all gathered together to call me.

“You asked my parents?”

Jay rubbed his nose on my cheek, his smart-assery coming to action as he quoted my words from that night two months ago- “Of course, wouldn’t wanna be chased to the end of the earth and be decapitated the crap out of now, would I?”

The boys all had blinding bright and hopeful grins on their faces; even Damian! Alfred’s expression could only be described with one adjective- delight, and Bruce had an odd smile as he saw the straight-out-of-a-movie scene unfold.

I turned my head to the side to look at Jason again, grin faltering to a small smile.

This time nervousness coated his expression and words as he asked once again, “Will you marry me?“

I heard my mom speak through the phone, “Oh come on, stop torturing the poor boy! Answer already!“

Taking a deep breath, I leaned my head even closer to Jason’s. His blue eyes pierced into mine with their intensity, and my lips touched his as I said the word softly. 

“Yes.”

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

The right person, the wrong time.

The right script, the wrong line.

The right poem, the wrong rhyme.

And a piece of you

That was never mine

K Towne Jr.

Chapter 8

The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.

When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.

Nush.

Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.

Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.

Kiss you.

Taste you.

Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.

Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.

“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.

Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.

The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.

“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.

“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”

“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.

She always looks beautiful.

“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.

As for that goddamn red lipstick…

It would leave a mark all around my-

“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.

“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.

Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”

“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”

The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.

“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”

“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.

Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”

“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.

“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.

Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”

Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”

“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.

Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.

Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.

The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.

Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.

“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.

“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”

“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”

Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.

Fuck, Nush.

If you only knew what you do to me.

“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.

“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”

You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”

Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.

“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”

“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.

The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.

Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.

I just wish you’d explore them with me.

“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.

Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!

For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?

White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.

“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”

Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.

“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.

“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”

“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”

Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.

When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.

And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.

Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.

Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.

Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.

You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.

The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.

“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.

“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”

“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.

“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”

You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”

“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.

The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.

✪✪✪✪✪

His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.

Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.

His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.

As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.

So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.

The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.

The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”

Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?

Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.

Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.

AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.

One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.

Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.

He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.

There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.

The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,

“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.

Nush - what the fuck?

“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”

The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.

“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.

“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.

“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.

“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”

You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”

Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”

“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.

“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.

“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.

“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.

“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”

“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.

“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.

“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”

As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.

Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[2handsslan]

I found myself while loving you

Summary: Draco Malfoy, Slytherin King, one of the meanest boys at Hogwarts finds he might not be who thinks he is after all 

Pairing: Draco X Hufflepuff reader

Word Count: 2153

A/N: Helllooo loves!! So this is my first time EVER writing a fic so please go easy on me. Im so nervous to post this, but I want to start writing and I have to start somewhere! and see if I’m even good at it!! Honestly I don’t know if any of my followers read HP fandom fics but if you do please check this out, tell me what you think! AHHH anyways I hope you like it

Growing up we typically believe our parents can do no wrong. We hold them above everything and everyone. We learn to turn a blind eye to the wrong they sometimes do, even go as far as justifying it. 

This is exactly what Draco did when it came to his father. Mr. Malfoy could do no wrong in the eyes of his little boy, even though all he did was wrong. 

The only thing Draco wanted to do in life was to make his father proud, to be the spitting image of the man. He spoke like him, walked like him, held his head as high as he did. This didn't go unnoticed by his father, but this was not a “proud dad moment” type of situation. Lucious Malfoy took this as an opportunity to shape Draco into everything he wanted him to be, for his own personal gain.  

Draco being in one of the most infamous death eater families meant a dark light was shed on him. Welcoming this with open arms Draco became the meanest student at Hogwarts, from the very moment he stepped onto the train the first day of first year. 

Going into his fifth year, nothing has changed. 

-

Draco sat with his gang of Slytherins in the Great Hall, back pressed to the table, his long legs crossed at the ankles stretched out in front of him, waiting for the newest first years to enter and get sorted into their houses. He threw his head back in laughter at a joke Blaise made. As his head was falling back into place, the smile on his face disappeared and his eyes widening. ‘That couldn't possibly be Y/N Y/L/N… absolutely couldn't be.’ He thought to himself as you walked into the room. You had not looked as you did last year. You had not been ugly by any means, just you, nothing special. You matured quite a lot over the short summer break, turning into a very beautiful young woman. 

And he had definitely noticed. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of you. In his shock, he leaned over and roughly shook Blaise by his shoulder, “Is that Y/N?” 

“What? Merlin it is, she sure did change this summer.” Blaise said adding a whistle. 

You were the true definition of a Hufflepuff, hard-working, patient, loyal, and one of the sweetest girls you would ever meet. Your Y/E/C eyes constantly shine with happiness, sending sweet smiles to everyone who walked by, no matter the scowls or disgusted looks they gave. 

You made your way past the Slytherin table, eyes falling on Draco and sending him a small grin, tucking your hair behind your ear in nervousness. He had never looked at you like that before. Only taking notice of you when he was giving you an odd scowl as you walked past him and his friends in the hallway during previous years with a smile permanently etched on your face. You on the other hand had always taken notice of the Slytherin King. It was quite an odd thing, the sweetest Hufflepuff finding herself swooning over the meanest boy in their year. But you couldn't help it, you were simply intrigued by him. Wondering what made him the way he was. Wondering what had to have happened to make him so cold to others.  And also wondering what kind of things made him smile, and how you wished you could do those things, wished you could make him smile. You sort of felt like a creep, due to the fact that you had never even really spoken to each other outside of being partnered with each other for a Transfiguration project last year. But you couldn't help the butterflies you felt whenever you saw him.

Something inside Draco changed that very moment. For the past two years he had noticed you, not a lot, but just enough to wonder about you from time to time. It was like he was seeing you for the very first time and he needed to know you, to know everything about you. 

Throughout the entire sorting ceremony he couldn't keep his eyes off of you, where he was seated he had a perfect view of your side profile. He took notice in the way your eyelashes curled up, the soft freckles that dusted over our nose and cheeks, the way your head was slightly tilted as you watched the students with interest as they were sorted. 

Simply breathtaking he thought. 

As the first few weeks passed, things did not change. Draco spent every chance he got looking at you, trying to come up with an excuse to speak with you. Once again you had Transfigurations together. “Today you will be working in pairs to vanish a group of mice.” instructed Professor Mcgonnagal, “You may choose who you partner up with, begin.” 

Before he even realized what he was doing Draco had jumped up from his chair and was standing over your desk saying “Would you like to be my partner?” 

He was sure he shared the same shocked expression on your face. Cheeks turning a light pink you agreed. 

Neither of you spoke much during the class, stealing quick glances at one another more than words. After successfully vanishing all of your mice in record time, you turned to him, “Well I can see you have very much improved since last year” a small teasing smirk playing on your lips. 

“I'd like to think so,” he said shyly. This had to have been a mistake you thought, Draco Malfoy shy? Around you? No way, not possible. 

As the thoughts were running through your head you heard him speak again, “Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? It's the first trip of the year.” 

It seemed you forgot how to speak, your mouth opened and then closed, your mind suddenly completely blank. 

“Nevermind, that was stupid, why would someone like you want to..” 

“I'd love to go with you” you practically yelled as you realized he was spiraling, probably thinking you would want to do anything but spend time with him. 

And then there it was, the smile that you rarely got to see, and you felt like your heart could burst. The bell rang and he stood up, “I'll meet you in front of the Great Hall after breakfast Saturday then,” he said, a smile still in full view. All you could do was nood, an expression of utter disbelief on your face. 

The rest of the week flew by and next thing you knew you were walking out of the doors of Hogwarts with Draco by your side. The two of you spent the day walking around the shops, and stopping for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. You were surprised by how easy it was to talk to him. As much as you didn’t want to, you had always thought he had to be just as everyone said he was, mean. But you were completely wrong. As you got to know him more and more during your short time, you had a feeling there was a lot more to the boy. 

-

As the months past your time spent with Draco increased. Meeting in the corridors before and after classes, sneaking you to the Slytherin table during meals, and sneaking you into his dorm for late night cuddles every so often.

This was completely out of character for you by others standards but with him you had never felt more yourself. 

And Draco was feeling the exact same way. Slowly but surely his bad guy persona was fading, and people were starting to take notice. Word was getting around that he was becoming a different person. But he did not care anymore. 

“He has to be faking it, he has always been the nastiest boy to walk these halls.” 

“If his family could see him now they would not even recognize him..”

There was no way for him to not hear these things being said about him as he walked from class to class with you on his arm. And one day it finally hit him. They were right, he was not the same boy he had been the previous years, and he had you to thank for that. He realized now that this was him, this is how he was meant to be. 

He had spent his whole life before this trying to live up to his fathers attitude and beliefs that he had become something he wasn't. But he was done, he was done trying to please him, constantly miserable from never seeming to be able to. He was himself now.

-

Word about the way Draco changed so drastically had finally gotten to his father. And it could not have happened at a worse time. This Hogsmead trip he had asked his mother and father to meet him, wanting to introduce you to them. Surprisingly he was not at all nervous, just excited to finally have you meet his family, thinking they would love you just like everyone else did. 

The two of you sat in Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop waiting for them to arrive. The door opened and Draco shot straight up, straightening his shirt and hair as his parents walked in. “Father, Mother, it's good to see you. You both look well.” he said. “As do you,” his father said simply. His mother sent him a small smile, from her position behind her husband. Sitting down Mr. Malfoy wasted no time speaking of the rumors he had been hearing about his son. “It has come to my attention that you have changed Draco, and not in a way I would categorize as acceptable.” “You've lost your mind if you think I am going to let you lose yourself,” he sent you a nasty side eyed look, “because of a silly girl.”

You felt Draco tense beside you and instinctively interlaced your fingers with his to try to calm him down. This did not faze you , you know the reputation his father had and did not fool yourself with the thought of him being overjoyed at his son's new attitude. 

Draco spoke as calmly as he could “The way I have been acting is certainly because of Y/N, in the sense that she has made me realize I do not want to be like my miserable father anymore.” He no longer cared if this was supposed to be a happy meeting, introducing his girl to his parents, no this was it, this was where he was going to break free of the hold his father had on him. This was where he was getting the stain of his family's name off of him. 

This seemed to shake his father to the core, realization hit him that he did not have control over his boy anymore, and he was now his own person. His mothers head was tilted down but Y/N could see the small smile on her face. She knew what Dracocould be, and she was proud he was becoming his own person. 

Without saying another word his father got up and stormed out of the shop, his mother throwing him a proud smile as she ran after his father. 

“Draco I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen,” You said sadly. 

Without saying anything he stood you up and pulled you into a kiss, breaking away to say “Let's get out of here,” with a smile on his face. 

You sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room late that night wrapped up in Draco’s arms. He was still reeling from the day's events, he had never felt more happy with himself. “I can't remember the last time I felt this good...” he spoke so softly you almost didn't hear him. You turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue. “I've spent as long as I can remember tied up in the idea that I needed to be just like my father to make him love me, but I don't want to do that anymore. I want to be who I am with you all the time, with everyone. It's much easier than being miserable all the time.” 

 You took his face in hands, your thumbs stroking his jawline, “I always knew there was more under that hard exterior, I'm happy I was able to help you let it out.” 

He dropped his forehead against yours, breathing deep, his lips landed on yours in the sweetest but most passionate kiss you had shared. It took your breath away and you were slightly panting as you broke apart. 

“The only love I ever wanted was from my father. But now, the only love I want is yours. An… and i love you more than i can tell you.” 

“And I love you just as much.”

[woodrokiro]

Do It For the Band, Part Five (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki: 

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, Three, and Four.

Against her better judgement, Tatsuki takes an early flight home the next morning, so she really doesn’t know what went down. 

Frankly, between battling her colossal hangover and focusing on not puking on the plane when it hits turbulence: she doesn’t even think about it until later in the week. 

Since the tour ended, the band has a week off to just chill and take some time for themselves before regrouping and planning their next move. Tatsuki goes straight home to smoke weed and binge dumb movies on her to-watch queue. Chad and Orihime had plans to stay in their last tour city for a while since they had friends and family there. 

And as for Ichigo and Rukia…

Who knows. They’re both such dorks that they’re probably that gross couple who serenade each other in bed, naked, making weird metaphorical lyrics about the sex they just had.

Gross. But kind of sweet.

She makes a point to not think about or reach out to any of them (besides Orihime, of course) the entire week - not that she doesn’t love her team fiercely, but they all need the break away from each other... Especially after they spent all their time together making the album and going on tour, and especially if Ichigo decides to show one of his new Rukia-love ballads to the band upon their return. 

Still, she attempts to check in with Ichigo on the fifth day over text. 

How ya doin’, tiger?

He doesn’t respond for a few hours, but she doesn’t think much of it. He’s always been sort of a shitty texter, and there’s a strong chance all the raucous love-making isn’t reminding him to check his phone. 

She’s on the fourth episode of Terrace House’ newest season, debating whether one of the cast members is a chaotic queen or absolute garbage when she hears the familiar ping of a text message on her phone. She picks it up and reads:

Fine.

Huh. 

Not exactly the sunshine-y answer she expected, but then again: it’s Ichigo. He’s not exactly a sunshine-y person, even when - apparently - he’s radiantly happy. 

She shrugs, deciding not to push it. She’ll find out soon enough how everything’s going when they have practice in a couple days. 

--

Practice is in Chad’s garage, and Ichigo, Chad, and Orihime are already there.

She mostly chats with Orihime, who has so much to update her on about her newest recipes, like natto ice cream and sriracha orange juice, and hey, Tatsuki, what are your thoughts on this newest article I found about robots dominating the planet within the next five years?

Tatsuki glows in the babble, chuckling when she can’t help herself. Says the first sounds… Interesting, the second sounds like maybe she can keep revising it a little, and that last article sounds like it might be from a not so trust-worthy news source. 

Her friend tries to argue the source’s credibility when she looks over at Ichigo. He’s silently tuning his guitar, head bent and posture weirdly… Slumped when she catches his eye.

She raises her eyebrows at him without interrupting Orihime’s chatter. You good?

He shrugs, gives a weak smile and thumbs up before returning his attention back to his instrument.

Uh oh. 

Ichigo Kurosaki does not do weak smiles… Or thumbs ups, for that matter.

It’s another few minutes before Rukia swings the door open, a bit of a sweaty mess and running out of breath. 

“Hi all, I’m so sorry I--”

“You’re late.”

Everyone swings their attention to Ichigo, who observes their keyboardist stone-faced. The shocked silence that follows is short, but suffocating. 

Rukia flushes before she blinks, raising her chin. “Yes. As I was saying… I’m sorry I’m running late, everyone. I had a lunch meetup with an old friend that went longer than expected. Please forgive me.”

“Chill, Rukia - you’re fine. You’re only five minutes over.” Tatsuki shoots a look at Ichigo, who’s still ruthlessly eye-ing daggers into Rukia. 

What the hell…? 

“... Whatever. Let’s just get started. Go over everything to catch back up to speed, and all that.” Ichigo plugs his guitar into the speaker, and Rukia nods as she quickly sets up her keyboard. 

Practice from there is…

Like. It’s good. It is. Despite the long break, everyone is still on top of their shit: Tatsuki’s beats are muscle memory by now, and Chad is as on it as he ever was. Ichigo and Rukia are in perfect sync, per usual.

The energy, however, is another story. While there was always some sort of joy and excitement when they all played together, now it’s like the air is stiff, heavy. From behind, Tatsuki can see Rukia keeps trying to look at Ichigo during all the parts they usually harmonize together, to get some sort of connection. 

Ichigo doesn’t even remotely glance her way the entire time. 

They’re near done with the entire set when Ichigo clears his throat, turning to the rest of them. Urahara has joined them by this point, watching with an unreadable smile as ever.  

“So… I think we should scrap Sun and Moon from our main set.”

Orihime lets out a soft gasp. Chad’s fingers accidentally let loose a note on the live bass. Tatsuki chokes on her spit. 

“Sun and Moon? You mean our crowd pleaser? The one we always end shows with a bang on?”

“It’s not our only crowd pleaser, we’ve also got some other great ones. I’m just afraid it’s gonna be a one-hit wonder, ya know? And with that note…” He turns to Urahara. “What do you think about us going ahead and starting to write for our sophomore album?”

They gape at him. 

Even Urahara raises his eyebrows. “That’s… Well. That was fast.”

“Is it? Our album is more like EP, anyway - just a little longer. Like a warm-up. And it’s good, of course I’m proud of it - everyone worked so hard on it - but, just… Why not start now? Why not take advantage of the momentum we’ve got going on?”

Rukia clears her throat. “Ichigo, that’s… We’ve got such a good grip on what we have -”

“I just think Soul Vibes is static for us. Outdated.” He quickly looks back at her before returning his attention to Urahara.

 Rukia looks like she’s been slapped. 

“I think we’re more dynamic now, even just in these few short months. And yeah it’s fast, but - we have time, right? To get started on writing?”

“I suppose so.” Urahara looks at Tatsuki and Chad, who both shrug. Something’s really off here, but Tatsuki sort of sees his point. It’s clear Ichigo’s raring to write something new… Why not? 

“Sure, if you’d like, I can make some arrangements with the music studio. You and Rukia can go in there and--”

“Actually, I was thinking we can work on some stuff alone before presenting it to the group.” He stops Tatsuki when she begins to sputter.  “Look, I know the whole reason for pairing Rukia and I for songwriting was to get us working as a team. But we’re fine now…”

Ichigo looks back at Rukia, and they share a look that’s so… Tatsuki doesn’t know what it is, but she sees Rukia swallow heavily in response.

“We’re fine now.” He repeats grittily. He starts again, stronger: “We collaborated on some cool shit, now I think it’s time to make it a little more diverse like I mentioned earlier. Have my songs, have her songs, have Chad’s songs if he still wants - all threaded together with Tatsuki’s beats. Why not?”

The room is quiet as they contemplate it. It’s not a bad idea, but…

Tatsuki glances over at Rukia, who’s looking down at her hands.

Urahara clicks his tongue. 

“Well, Kurosaki, you raise a good argument. I don’t see why not, and I’m not hearing any objections… Just one thing: you’re not striking Sun and Moon quite yet. No arguments! Hear me out.” He stops Ichigo with a hand. “You’re not striking it until any of you come up with a song just as good, if not better. There’s power in that one, you can’t deny it. Make something as rock n’ roll as that and the team will talk. Let’s just��� Keep each other in the know, all right?” 

The band - Rukia included, albeit softly - agrees, and they start to pack up. 

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on; she’s always down for making more jams, she knows Ichigo and Rukia have got more up their sleeves, that Chad definitely deserves to put more of his stuff forward - but that… Look the two vocalists shared…

What happened that night after she left the bar? 

She doesn’t have much time to wonder, however, because suddenly she’s shaken out of her thoughts when she hears Ichigo approaching Orihime about whether she wants to go out and get a couple of drinks. 

Tatsuki’s heart is too busy falling to see Rukia’s stricken face.

[randombtsprincessa]

Belladonna || 1

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader, Past Lovers! AU

Words: 3k

Genre: Heavy Angst, Smut 

Rating: This chapter is General up to NC-17, rating might go up as story progresses.

Summary: Your life has finally settled into a routine; keeping you far away from your home, friends, family and the man who broke your heart. Coming back home means facing him again and maybe you’re not as over him as you’d like to believe.

Warnings: (in-chap) Heavy Angst, mentions of a toxic relationship.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The idol used as the Muse for the lead is not in anyway affiliated with the work. The characterisation is a work of mine. Any asks or accusations against the work on the grounds of inability to keep fact and fiction seperate on the part of the reader, will not be entertained. 

A/N: Its’s rather sad that the disclaimer has to be added but eh, it’s a bad time for tumblr writing fandom and people are being very mean. Brush past that if you’re sane. Anyway, a very very huge hug to my best friends for screaming at me about this fic. A bunch of thanks to @softyoongiionly​ for hyping up the chapter! And a round of applause for @kithtaehyung​ for beta-ing the chappie!!

Happy Birthday Yoonfie baby!!

It was cold inside the cabin, the air conditioner turned extreme while the outer windows fogged with condensation. Your head leaned against the pane, the thudding and rolling of the train wheels under you jarring your brain in your skull as you watched the world outside flash speedily by.

Trees, small gravelly roads, sign boards, sparse traffic here and there…and then rolling grasslands before the pattern repeated itself…redundant, normal, and soothing.

You sighed, a puff of white exhale clouding around your mouth while your eyes drifted back to the interior of the cabin. This sight was a lot more different, with different people having different lives, problems, worries…

A woman tended to her sniffling child, holding a handkerchief up to the girl’s running nose…a man spoke into his phone; harried and rushed as he more likely than not slurred a few words together…

It was when your eyes caught a girl laying her head on the boy next to hers’ shoulder, smiling serenely when the boy ran a hand through her locks that you turned around again, eyes back to watching the redundant.

There was nothing soothing about people watching.

Or maybe there was and it required some form of inner peace to find the charm in it.

You didn’t have that sort of inner peace; neither did you have the patience for it.

People watching for people like you was anxiety inducing…and you really didn’t want that burden on your shoulders right now. There would be enough anxiety waiting for you when you set your foot home.

“____?”

You turned coffee worn, blue light sunken eyes towards your boss, standing over you with his files clutched to his chest nervously. The sight was enough to make you chuckle. For all his genius, Kim Namjoon was just a giant fumbling through life. It made him a stellar boss and manager, but it also made him a wonderful friend.

“Yes?”

“I just got your email for the leave application.”

You blinked up at your boss expectantly, face calm and relaxed. Of course, your brain had shot straight to overdrive, praying, wishing, and begging for a miracle that would allow your boss to refute the application.

A large red denied would do nothing to hamper your mood; at least it would stamp down the very intrusive tendril of panic that was already gripping around you.

You waited until Namjoon was done rustling inside of the folder in the crook of his arm. The white print out was placed in front of you, green letterings spelling ACCEPTED AND FORWARDED, scrawled on the top screaming obscenities at you.

You looked back at Namjoon.

“We don’t have a lot of work load right now plus you look dead on your feet. Some time away with your folks will be nice, won’t it?”

You very nearly grimaced at his words.

He was sincere, of course he was. Namjoon didn’t have a conniving bone in his body, but right now, you couldn’t help but resent his kindness, his mushy brain that railed against exploiting his workers. You hated the fact that he looked into your eyes and saw past the stubborn energy and caught onto the exhausted person underneath.

So you offered him a tiny smile, just in case the flicker of your crushing despair was made clear onto your traitor face.

“Thank you, Namjoon.”

He placed a heavy, tight hand on your shoulder as he passed by.

“Have a nice vacation, ____.”

Usually, someone who was away from home, working their ass off, making something of themselves away from their family should ideally jump at the chance to take a vacation, to go home and see the family and friends they had.

Ideally…one should be happy at the prospect of going home.

So many times, however, situations were rarely ideal. Sometimes there were complications, convolutions, obstacles…

Sometimes people had no love in their hearts; sometimes there was nothing at all.

Sometimes, there was dread.

Right then, in the rattling carriage that carried you to the small town which had spawned your existence, you could sense the dread carving a pit into your stomach, roiling and curling like a wretched cat kept too long from sunshine.

There was no relief for the upcoming long sleepy times, no joy at the prospect of home food…of warm embraces…

There was just that god awful dread.

You hoped you wouldn’t throw up; though there was nothing in your stomach to hurl but for the coffee you’d pumped in you from the station café. You couldn’t keep anything else down.

You had upped and left your home right after the end of your college life. Many things had come to an end with that particular period in your life. You had scampered and scrapped together enough courage to exit the hole that still robbed you of breath sometimes when you twisted and turned in your bed – sleepless.

You had left shattered pieces of your heart in your whirling escape of the town, the space that you had now the only light that shone at the end of the tunnel back then. Your family and friends, as supportive as they were, had never truly understood why you had nearly clawed away from that world.

To them, it had been the job opportunity.

And it was understandable…

The town, as well-knit and seemingly lovable as it was, was used to being self sufficient. The people there didn’t ever need to leave, they knew everything, helped everyone, and any problem one of them had was a problem for them all.

You couldn’t fit yourself in that mold anymore.

You had left – knowingly cut yourself away from that community.

Your friends had remained; some spreading out of course but they were still as much a part of that bunch as they had been when born.

You didn’t expect anything from them.

Not when he was also still a part of that community.

Your mind jerked away moments before conjuring his likeness behind your eyes, the ticket collector bearing down to save you from the torture of it.

Your fingers fumbled with the pockets of your bag, slipping the stub into his patient hands as he clipped and handed it back to you.

You accepted it meekly, folding into yourself again, eyes drifting back out the window and firmly tugging your thoughts away from your past. You had to prepare for what was going to come now.

Nobody expected you to come, you knew. It was a surprise to you yourself that you had found enough guts in you to pull this off.

Namjoon’s words came back to you.

Some time away with your folks will be nice, won’t it?

You weren’t going to hold out much hope for that.

You found a cab almost immediately out of the station, the many cruisers that stood to one side eager to free you of your luggage and take you off to your destination. You gave your address shakily, hoping this particular driver wasn’t one of the townspeople. Luckily, the man didn’t bat an eye, instead nodding and quietly switching on the radio for the drive over.

You leaned back into the seats, arms grasping the strap of your handbag tight as the moment to face your family and close ones drew closer.

Objectively, your little hometown was very pretty.

Trees lined the major roads, small clusters of buildings interjecting the greenery to spread business to the good people. And as tense as you were, your mind couldn’t help but pick out the differences.

Boutiques were newer and flashier, the diners you remembered now expanded to add cafes or banquets. The town hall was an imposing as ever, only a new marble fountain added to the square in front of it now.

By the time your cab entered the section of the suburbs where you had grown up; your back was straight, neatly aligned with the window. If you had been dreading the homecoming before, it was all gone; replaced with an odd form of resignation.

You lugged your bags out and paid the taxi driver with cold hands, winding bloodless fingers around the handles to pull them up the drive way towards your open door.

The house was full, open and bustling – a normal day for when your mother threw one of her success parties. She was one of the famous people in the town, her career as a landscaper and home decorator for big names making her in turn the man source of revenue and attraction for the town.

It had been both a source of pride and embarrassment to you in your teens. Mainly because your mother insisted on these parties each and every time one of her projects turned out well. But then, as you grew you realized that this is why your mother was important to the town.

She was more than half the money earned and the social events of the calendar.

Inside the house, small clusters of people gathered here and there, in the living room, the kitchen, the dining space. You stood at the door; feeling more exposed than you ever had here but moved in quickly, lest one of them notice you in the doorway and start blabbering about it.

Of course, the three big bags that you carried more than made up for it.

One of the groups of women nearest you turned their heads in synchrony, taking double looks as you passed by before the murmurs began.

How could you tell?

Well because, gossip usually lowers ones’ volume. And each group you passed stopped conversing before muttering arose in its place.

You cut across the living room to your father’s den. Here, there were all men, hands cupping your dad’s cut glasses of scotch but thankfully no one mentioned you dumping your bags right by the door and walking back out.

Your hands fiddled with your scarf, wondering where your family was in their own party but you were loathing asking one of the guests.

Even as you convinced yourself to walk over to one of the ladies by the window sofa, a figure walked past opposite you, a handful of trays of cocktail bites and glasses on them. You jumped, watching as the woman placed the trays on the coffee table, smiling at the people before she turned…and spotted you.

Your sister’s eyes widened, eyelashes fluttering before quick steps led her closer to you.

“____?” She asked, almost checking if it really was you.

You smiled wryly, hand still tangled with your scarf. “Hi Sana, yes it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” She threw herself at you, arms wrapping around your neck to draw you into a warm and nearly forgotten embrace. You stood in her hold for a few seconds, managing to pat her back before she was pulling away, eyes glistening at you.

“Oh god, don’t cry,” you whispered immediately.

“Shut up, these are happy tears; my little sister is home! Hang on; I’ll go get Mom and Dad.” She turned on her heel before you got another word out, mouth parted as she disappeared into the house.

You stood rooted to the spot, hoping against hope she brought your dad first. You just knew your mom would start bawling and then all the neighbors and her social circle would start hovering like the pack of vultures you had the low opinion of them as.

It was unfair and very rude of you, yes, but you couldn’t help but remember half the rumors and gossip that had come from none other than these same people when you had first left. Sympathy or well wishes from them now, would only make you more disgusted.

It had made you keep your own mother at a distance, seeing as she was probably the source of their information.

Thankfully, you knew you could always depend on your dad.

A no-nonsense and rational person, he was only guilty of being extremely in love with your mother. You knew he only bore these parties for her sake and of course your sister, Sana’s.

So when you saw Sana come back, with both your parents you still heaved a relived sigh.

“____, my god, you’re really here.” Your mother was the second to hug you, your father following.

“We didn’t think you would make it this year too.” Your dad said.

“Yeah, it’s been hectic…a lot…for the last couple years.” You repeated the same lies you’d been spouting for two years now. You had spoken the same lines into your phone, in your emails over months and it came much easier while speaking them to their faces.

“Very hectic for a well-established firm, ____, you could’ve asked for a leave, I’m sure office policy allows that.” Your dad said in that logical baritone that rendered most arguments moot.

“That is actually how I got away, Namjoon insisted.” You said; not completely untrue.

“Well, I for one am very happy my little girl is back to me. You’ll stay for a bit, won’t you?” Your mother stroked your hair back from your face.

You smiled tightly at her, thinking of the weeks Namjoon had generously piled on you out of respect for your relentless working for two years under him.

“Yes.”

You caught Sana try and push in, her eyes seeking yours even as your mother squealed in jubilation. “Perfect, we are going to have to throw you a coming home party.”

“Y/M/N,” Your father said lightly. “We are at a party now.”

“Yes, but ____ deserves her own night.” Sana put in before grabbing your hand. “Come on,” she dragged you away from your debating parents.

“Not a lot has changed I guess.” You spoke drily.

“Yeah, maybe, listen I think we need to –”

Sana was cut off by a gasp of your name, your head swiveling to see Park Jimin, one of your old friends gaping at you.

It was a whirlwind of reunions and emotions as people gathered around you, astonished that you’d come back without any mention of it.

“Yeah, I – I guess, it’s a surprise.” You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly, going over the faces of your childhood to college friends.

Many things had changed while you were gone, true – to the town, to the people and even to your friends but one thing you were glad to see…they hadn’t cut you away completely. Yes, your interaction with them had been reduced to the odd Facebook and Twitter chats and the occasional emails and texts here and there but they still looked…happy to see you.

Park Jimin and his twin, Jihyo had been the first ones to come to you, Jihyo hugging you tightly enough to make you wince. She had been your roommate in college; she probably knew you as well as Sana did – maybe even better. She had introduced you to Jimin and the three of you had been inseparable throughout your college life.

Jimin had apparently been friends with one of your childhood friends, Kim Taehyung.

You were not so shocked to know he was now married, living next door to you with his wife, Nayeon. Sweet and charming, she hugged you like her husband.

“It’s almost like I already know you,” she explained to your unsure smile, “they talk about you so much.”

“Ugh, I’m already worried.” You cringed.

“They were all nice things don’t worry. We had to put down a couple old gossips down here and there, though.” Jimin came to defend his friend.

You glanced at them curiously.

“Oh yeah, it was just old gossipy hags around the town, don’t worry about it. People moved on from you pretty soon to a Miss Mina. She’s a spinster, which apparently is a sin.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “She lives a few houses from us.”

“Also, I think your mom told that friend of hers, Dahyun to stop people gossiping about you. They were task-forcing the town. It was fun to watch.” Jimin added.

A sudden wave of affection for your mother rose up in you, before being quelled by the reminder that she must have done it to protect her own image.

You shrugged then, picking up a glass from one of the trays to take a sip of your mother’s homemade cocktail – fruity and simple on your tongue.

“Enough about me, what about you all?” you pointed at Tae and Nayeon, “Married with a house,” your finger moved to Jimin, “Sports coach,” then Jihyo, “Choreographer,” you stopped.

“What about the others, any news?”

“Not really, we are the ones who still live here you know. Plus, no offense to your mom, but I doubt folks would leave their city jobs to come to her parties.” Jihyo muttered; exchanging a glance of solidarity with you before her eyes widened suddenly.

“What?” you asked.

Her eyes quickly went to her brother, Jimin’s eyes a little more slow on the uptake but they widened too…before repeating the process – albeit comically – with Taehyung.

“What is wrong with you all?” You asked again.

“Um, ____, did Sana tell you -?”

Jimin paused nervously, refusing to look at you as he fiddled with the rim of his glass.

“Tell me what?”

He looked helplessly at his sister. Jihyo hesitated before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Listen, ____, while you were gone” -

She broke off, her eyes darting over your shoulder and stuttering to a stop.

In that moment of her silence, the conversation behind you was clearer.

Or rather, one particular voice was…

Low and deep – soft morning grumbles came back to you – muffled conversations from behind you made you turn around.

It was a voice you would know anywhere. It was one that haunted your dreams, one that crested the ache in your heart on particularly bad days…

It was one you would know beyond a void.

Min Yoongi stood directly across from you, in your home, undoing his coat and removing his scarf, conversing lowly with your sister.

Something she quickly muttered to him had him freezing, long nimble fingers stopping in the unknotting of his scarf.

And then as if he could feel your gaze, could feel your presence, the reason why you left everything behind looked straight up at you, eyes locking across a room…just like the day you had first seen him.

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

in which you study in a different country and meet someone along the way.  

hi lovelies! this is my fic for miss olivia’s @bfharry​ boyfriendathon! i’ve had this concept for a year now, and i’m so happy i was finally able to write it!

thank you to @bopbopstyles​ @stellarboystyles & @avhrodite​ for beta-ing! <3

enjoy 7.5k words of friends to lovers & uni!harry & boyfriend!harry !! also the story is supposed to go semi-fast since it is mostly flashbacks, the sparkly breaks will tell you when the flashbacks start and end! 

i’ve made a playlist for this fic! if anyone would like to listen while reading click here

please please leave feedback! super excited for this because it’s probably a fav of mine and i’m really proud of it, so i would love to know what you think! a reblog, comment, and/or ask would mean a lot! <3

The birds were chirping and the sun was beaming on you, leaving a glow to your skin that had shined ever so brightly, giving you a healthy and lovely tint to your skin. It was a lovely day that there was not an ounce of complaint in your mind because of the beautiful weather Mother Nature decided to provide you with, knowing that you hadn’t gotten perfect weather for the past few weeks. The trees and grass were as green as ever as slight wind rustled between the leaves, making the sound of the crisp leaves loud. 

It was a moment like this where you felt so happy and grateful to be in a beautiful city; that you had made the right decision. The London view and atmosphere does not compare to any other place in the world, aside from the fact that you haven’t been to many places in your life. But you’re a bit biased on your opinion because London graced you with your boyfriend, Harry. You remembered the first time you came to London just two years ago, and you never imagined how your life had planned out until this very moment. 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

You had stepped on the plane with nervous thoughts running through your head. It was the first time you ever rode a plane, and your destination was hours away, practically a full day. It was a major step, and you probably should’ve thought it through; maybe traveling to the next state, but to travel to another country was a big step for you. 

It wasn’t a vacation, more like, school in a different country for a few months. You had decided to study abroad when you were in high school, wanting to get away from home and also learning in a brand new place without the toxicity hanging onto your foot as you try walking away. It had taken a while to finally study abroad because the requirements of you needing to finish your first year of college before you could study in the fall. 

Your family hadn’t taken it well, but you decided that there was nothing you could do to stop them. You were going to pay for the trip and your expenses all on your own. It definitely helped that you got a scholarship to go to university in the first place, and lucky enough to live on campus away from home.

You were sad that they didn’t feel an ounce of happiness for you, and you had asked your cousin to take you to the airport, being the only person to bid you goodbye. The feeling was overbearing and overwhelming, making your heart sink but at the same time feel full with sadness. At the time, you had felt like everything was holding you back and you just wanted to get away. 

A new start was needed. 

It was August when you traveled alone to London. Anxiety was boiling in your throat as you craved the need to hold onto something as the ride was quite bumpy, making you sweat and shake. But you survived, and you were at your new home. At least for the next 4 months. 

It wasn’t a hard decision to decide to study abroad, but you really hoped you met good people and made friends. It had always been a struggle making and keeping a good batch of people in your life. You had thought it was easy to make friends during your time in London; no one knows you and they don’t know your insecurities. So, you thought it was going to be easy.

And luckily, you were right. 

You had met your three best girl friends, all that you had shared a small place with. The common room had held so many memories between the four of you, and you felt so immensely grateful for them. Late night talks and laughs while drinking wine and eating snacks were some of your best memories. You had missed the common room greatly. 

One night, Tanya had suggested a night out on their first week there, “let’s all go out with the guys tonight! I already met Peter, and we talked about going out, so we could introduce you to everyone!” 

The girls and guys were stoked for the most part, and you were excited too, but also nervous, hoping the guys had found something interesting about you. 

And that was the night you met Harry. 

Some of the students that went to university in London shared a dorm with the abroad students until they left. Half were in the art program and the other half was the journalism program. Two of the girls in your dorm, Donna and Sophie, were in the journalism class, and you and Tanya were in the art one. You had wished everyone was in the same class, but that made get togethers and dinners at night way more fun because it had felt like everyone had so much to catch up on, and the fun was at the highest level. 

You had seen Harry approximately twice within your first week, but it was merely just from passing. But that night was the first proper night you hung out with him and everyone else. 

You couldn’t deny that he was insanely attractive. Just at first glance he had that sort of charm to him that was irresistible and alluring, wanting more after he was done talking. He was a bit on the quiet side when you met him, but learned that he started getting louder and talkative once you warmed up to him. He was outgoing and fun, the life of the party once he had a drink or two in his system, and when he does have some liquid courage, he gets cuddly and affectionate. 

“Do you want another drink?” He asked in his buzzed state. 

“I think I’m okay right now, and who’s going to take care of you when you keep having more?” You teased. It was definitely the alcohol talking because you would have never voluntarily teased someone like that. 

“Well, we have a few people in our group.” It had made your heart flutter when he said ‘our.’ You had never had a group of friends to call yours, and although it was only the first week, you had known they were going to be a group of special people close to your heart. 

“Our friend group is also drunk off their asses, so I think there needs to be a responsible person right now, and that is me,” you put your hands under your chin and started fluttering your eyes innocently. Harry thought you were the most charming and sweetest girl he’s ever met, and it had only been a week. 

“Okay, whatever you say, missy,” he teased. You held back your big smile, corners of your lips turned up. 

“Go get your drink. I’ll wait here,” you pushed his shoulder slightly towards the bar with a chuckle. 

“Ooh, bossy. I like it,” he said with a wink before he headed towards the bar. You were lucky that he had already left to get a drink, or else he would’ve seen your face turn into a light red shade, flustered from his actions.  

As the night went on, Harry had practically clung onto you when he was buzzed, and never let you go until everyone walked back to the dorms. 

“No, don’t wanna leave ya,” he whined a bit when you tried handing him off to his friend. “Nooo, don’t make me go with him,” he pouted as if he was a child. You had gigged, thinking he was the absolute cutest when he was drunk (and not drunk) as he clung onto you until you physically had to put him in his bed.

His arms were still tight around you, your body was laying slightly on top of him. Lazy smiles and droopy eyes were made at you, causing you to chuckle. 

“Mmm. Hello,” he said with a giggle. 

“Hi. You okay?” 

“Yup. Perfect. You know...you’re very pretty,” he says as he smiled. Although he was drunk, Harry was telling the truth. 

“Thank you.” And although he was drunk, it still made you smile. 

“Mhm…” he mumbled in response. The silence between you two was enough to lull him to sleep; arms were still around you. 

“Goodnight, Harry,” you said against his forehead, giving him a small kiss as you tried your best to slip out of his hold. 

That moment had changed everything. 

The two of you had gotten closer after that night. The next day, you bumped into him in the lobby of the building and he asked if you wanted to walk to class with him. 

You laughed about it with him as you walked, “you were so cute last night.” 

“Yeah, M’sorry about that. I get like that when m’drunk,” he shyly said. 

“No need to apologize. I’m glad you had fun,” you said with a smile. He had smiled back at you as he felt the butterflies in his stomach flutter around. 

You and Harry spent almost everyday after class together or in between classes for a quick bite to eat. There was a usual coffee shop near the building that you would always meet each other at on Mondays and Wednesdays. On Tuesday, you two would walk together to a fish n’ chips spot for lunch. On Thursdays, it was a sandwich shop. Fridays you saved your outings for that night as everyone got together on Fridays. 

“We could make this our thing, y’know?” Harry suggested. 

“Fish n’ Chips Tuesdays?” You beamed at him. 

“Yeah, and coffee shop Mondays and Wednesdays, and sandwich shop Thursdays,” he was quite nervous getting that out, but he managed to do it with a smile. 

“That would be nice. Don't you think you would get tired of me?” You teased him, raising your eyebrow as you took a handful of fries and shoving them in your mouth. You hadn’t realized, at the time, how unattractive you might’ve looked, but Harry couldn’t help but smile and fall deeper. 

And he never got tired of you. 

Aside from having lunch and coffee everyday together, you had taken him to art museums. He wasn’t horrible at trying to interpret art, but looking at you beside him as you gazed at the art above yourself was something that he was fond of. He smiled every time you got lost in the art as you studied it, passionately looking up, trying to figure out what each piece means to you. It was admirable, really. 

“You’re gonna be up there one day, watch,” he had whispered to you as you were in a daze. You chuckled as you looked at him, seeing if he was messing around. He wasn't though. He had seen your paintings and sketches, and thought that you deserved to be hung up high in the gallery. 

“You’re sweet,” you smiled and he put his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his side. The affection had made you blush, thinking how you were falling for your best friend. 

After two months into studying abroad, you felt the happiest you’ve ever been. Aside from the constant moving around and trying your best to explore every part of the city, you felt like you belonged there. All those years living, you felt like you weren’t truly living, and being in London was possibly one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. 

You felt at peace. You were calm, and genuinely happy. Your head wasn’t racing like it was back in your hometown, and you weren’t anxiously looking over your shoulder, realizing that no one really is after you. 

The group decided to take a trip to Paris for the day, and the rest of the days would be spent hitting up a city or two. Everyone had the week off; a bit like spring break as you finished the first half of studying abroad. Everyone was super excited, and you haven’t been to Paris before so it was going to be a new place that you could check off from your list with your favorite people. 

It was a two and a half hour train ride from London to Paris, so you had loaded up a two hour playlist for the ride. 

At the time, it seemed like everyone knew that you were crushing on Harry, except Harry himself. When everyone boarded, the only seat empty was the one next to him. You weren’t mad, in fact, you were thrilled that the seat next to him was vacant. When you sat next to him, his eyes beamed, glad to see you, and you looked over at your friends as they gave you that teasing eye look while you rolled your eyes. 

“Anyone sitting here?” You asked and he shook his head no, giving you a small smile to sit down.

Everyone was still tired, considering it was 7 in the morning, and the group wanted to stay in Paris for the entire day. You yawned and Harry looked at you, giving you a soft smile. You grabbed your earphones out of your purse, handing one earphone to him and placing the other in your ear. In that moment, Harry was so happy as you two listened to Frank Sinatra on the way to Paris, placing your head on your shoulder and his on your head as Frank lulled you both into a nap before your adventure together. 

The entire day was eventful, but exhausting. With everyone on their feet, they were all ready to crash and luckily it was nearing sunset before the last train of the day. 

The last touristy place was the famous Eiffel Tower. Everyone had decided to get some wine and snacks as the whole group sat on a big blanket in the grass area in front of the Eiffel Tower. The sun was slowly setting and the guys were playing with a soccer ball, passing it around as the girls drank and talked; music playing from the speaker Sophie had brought with her.

 You took a mental picture of the scene around you; the people, atmosphere, and the feeling. And you had softly smiled, thinking these are the people in your life that are going to be in your life forever. Despite the fact that half of you had to go separate ways, there was a certainty in your head that everyone will always end up back together again. 

The sun had fully set and the lights on the Eiffel Tower had turned on as it started twinkling, lighting up Paris since the sun had gone tired. The guys were getting tired as well, so they sat with the girls. Harry was on your right side, arm behind your back but he didn’t touch you as it rested on the blanket and he leaned on it. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered ever so softly in your ear. You turned towards him and he smiled. 

“Right now?” 

“Yes, right now. Please, dance with me,” he pleaded and you nodded. He had immediately gotten up and helped you up. 

‘A Sunday Kind of Love’ by Etta James began playing softly as you and Harry swayed. Your arms were around his neck and his were around your waist. Chests pressed together as you had felt his heartbeat that pounded through his chest that gladly traveled to your chest, making your heart beat in sync with his.

It was silent between you two. There were no outside noises interrupting your bubble as you two ignored the eyes your friends were giving you. It was just you and Harry, the music, and the Eiffel Tower that captured your love and kept it for memory sake as you swayed under the moonlight. 

Harry had pulled away from you, looking so intently in your eyes, fondness gleamed out of them.

“Be mine,” he said softly. “I’m fallin’ for you, and I’m fallin’ hard. Please be mine already?” You were about ready to cry in that moment, but tears glossed your eyes.

You nodded and he beamed, “Only if you agree to be mine as well because I’m falling for you too,” you added. 

Harry immediately nodded, “I’ve been yours…this whole time.”

“Harry…” 

“Yes, darling?” The pet name had come unexpected, but you loved it nonetheless. 

“Kiss me.”

He took your face in his hands, brushing away the strands of hair that had covered your pretty eyes before capturing your lips with his. The molded between your lips and his was perfect, like they were meant to be kissing Harry’s. Your hold on him grew tighter as your tongues touched for the first time. It sent shivers down your spine and made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. 

It was a moment that would never leave your mind and you two would cherish it forever. 

It had been two weeks since the group arrived back to London from Paris. Two weeks since the best day of your life, and you and Harry were attached at the hip and at the heart. It had been so easy to be around him, and you couldn’t believe he was your boyfriend. Your boyfriend.

You’ve been falling for him ever since the day you went out with everyone for the first time and clung onto you like a koala. But you were glad to be that tree for him that night. 

The regular dates hadn’t stopped. You two acted the same around each other, and that was because of the friendship before the relationship. And you were able to hold his hand while walking down the street and kiss him against the wall of an alley.

It was the third month of school, and everyone was swamped in midterm studies. The amount of stress everyone had was enough for an entire school year because of how fast paced the program was. 

It neared eleven at night in the boys’ dorm. Everyone’s heads were in their books or typing on their laptop, papers scattered around them. For the art program, you had to visit various museums and look for a painting that defined the meaning of Impressionism art along with a 2,000 words that went along with the painting. 

Multiple yawns passed through the room, and everyone was exhausted. 

“Alright, I’m done for the night. Can’t do anymore studying,” Tanya said as she started packing her things up loosely. 

“Yeah, think we should call it a night,” Cade suggested. 

A series of ‘goodlucks’ and hugs went around the room as everyone packed their things up, and the girls went off to the dorm as you were still packing, wanting a minute alone with Harry. 

“Stay the night?” He had suggested, and you turned around and stopped fixing your things. 

“You want me to?” 

“Yeah. Think I’ll sleep better with you here and m’all stressed out.” 

“Okay,” you replied back, thinking that you would sleep better with him as well. 

As you two got into bed, Harry had played music on his phone, saying that it had helped him sleep and it was a habit when getting into bed. You noticed that you and Harry had the same love for Frank Sinatra as he hugged you to his chest. 

The two had laid there, not even closing your eyes to try and get some sleep. But rather, staring at the ceiling, running your hands up and down each other’s skin. 

And the moment you had leaned up to give him a kiss, you two couldn’t stop there. 

Hands that roamed your body had made that electrifying feeling stronger, pulling him in for more. The passionate kisses that you two traded had triggered each other’s arousal as he hovered over you. The pull and undressing of each other’s clothes while ‘Strangers in the Night’ played had left you wanting more and more of him. 

“I’ve never done this before. Like any of this,” you whispered. 

“Do you want to continue? We don’t have to if you don’t want to--I’m definitely fine with just kissin’ ya,” he said with a smile, causing you to beam at him being a gentleman. 

“Yes, want this so bad, baby.” You responded quickly, feeling very eager. He smiled in return and continued what he was doing.

He had asked you throughout the experience if you were okay with everything, and when you told him ‘yes please, give it to me’, he made sure he got you ready for him; rubbing your button and fingering you to your high, something you’ve never experienced with another person. 

It was the reassurance that Harry had given for your first time, and the constant questions of making sure if you were okay and if you were comfortable when he slowly pushed into you, trying to make sure he wasn’t being too hard with you because of his hard and big length. 

“So good for me,” he whispered out, kissing your lips. 

“Feels so good,” you had moaned out, never experiencing this type of feeling before. The pleasure had taken over the stinging feeling of your Harry entering you for the first time. You two were connected in a way you’ve never felt before. 

The soft whispers of praises that fell from your lips, and your arousal and orgasm prior that lubricated Harry’s thrusting, had made him feel so many things. He wanted to last for you, he didn't want this moment to end. Scratches in his hair and down his back had encouraged him to continue as you moaned his name in his ear, and he pressed wet kisses to your neck as he grabbed your breast. 

Two strangers in the night who had no idea of each other’s existence just three months ago. They had no clue of what their life was going to become when they met each other. It was the way you looked at each other that he knew you weren’t going to be just a stranger to him. Although he had a bit of alcohol in his system, he knew in his heart that he was going to find that sort of comfort and caring personality when he started talking to you. 

Harry continued to make love to you as the moonlight was seeping through the blinds, like the love that seeped through your veins for each other. He brought you both to your highs, and the only thing that was heard was the hushed moans and groans that came out of your mouths that could signify the love you have for one another.

It was that moment that changed everything. 

The fourth month had approached sooner than you would like. 

You and Harry hadn’t discussed what was going to happen when you had to leave, but you had hoped that you could make long distance work. 

The feelings you had for him were nothing you had ever felt before. It had made you cry out of happiness in random times, but also made you want to scream because of how too good to be true he is. 

He treated you like a queen. Making sure to give you as much love as you could handle, but sometimes a little more because he couldn’t hold it in. 

Throughout the weeks, you had learned so much about him and him, you. You didn’t think there was someone in the world that was so kind and caring; someone who shares similar passions and likes the same things you do. He was an angel sent from above, and you wanted to keep him for as long as possible. 

One night, you two shared your pasts together as you laid in bed together after a session of love making and a few rounds of hard fucking per your request. 

The fear you had inside of you was trickling down with your words when you had told him your insecurities and stories of your family that you wanted to forget. But he took everything so well; never looking at you for your insecurities, but only for your heart. 

“They weren’t very really supportive of me--of what I wanted to do. They just expected me to follow what they wanted, and I didn’t like that…” His hands roamed your skin innocently, comforting you and let you know he was there for you. “I was already miserable there. I didn’t want to be even more miserable doing something I hated. So I went against their demands and they said they weren’t going to pay for anything. But luckily I got a scholarship, and moved away from home.” 

“I’m proud of you for doing that.” You looked up at him as he continued. “It’s admirable to see you chase your dream and do what you want to do, despite being told by parents who don’t support you. You’re strong for that, y’know?” You hadn’t responded; just took in his words of support and comfort. You kissed his chest, leaving soft and wet kisses to his skin. 

It was like you couldn’t get enough of him. The magnetic pull that you had between you had grown, making the force stronger than ever, and you never wanted to leave his side. 

As the last few weeks of studying abroad we’re coming to an end, everyone was focused on finals. There weren’t that many dinners or nights out at that moment, but everyone had time since the people who lived outside of England had a week before they had to pack up and leave. 

One night as Harry was in your room, studying on the bed as you were writing a paper for your final project, he had suggested visiting his hometown. 

“Darling, I have a question,” he perked up. You looked at him and nodded for him to continue. “You could say no and that would be totally fine, but how about we go to my hometown this weekend? We could even study over there. It’s less noisy and it’s not a hussle and bussle kind of town. I just want you to be able to see where I grew up.” 

You smiled, “Sounds nice. Where are we going to stay?” 

“Figured we could stay at my mum’s? She’s got a great backyard, or we could explore and I could take you around,” he said with great hope. Your heart fluttered, Harry wanted you to see where he grew up. He wanted to show you every corner of his hometown. 

“Oh…at your mom’s. Is she going to be there?” The thought of meeting his mother had scared you. You had never met anyone’s parents, and it was the nagging thought in your head telling you that you were going to mess it up. 

“Yeah, but we could get a hotel or something-”

“No! I would love to stay there, and I would love to meet your mom.”

Harry smiled, giving you a kiss to your lips before grabbing his phone and texting his mother.

The train ride to Holmes Chapel was about two and a half hours. 

You suddenly had a fascination with trains as you felt like it kept you calm while you watched different towns and buildings pass by. 

With the speed of the train, it had felt like you were in slow motion. Your eyes tried taking in everything you saw, capturing every moment of what you want to remember. And Harry is in a lot of those images. 

Holmes Chapel was very welcoming and warm. Despite the weather, it was warm. It felt like home. It was a small town and everyone seemed to know the next person, but you loved every part of it because it was where Harry grew up. 

His childhood home was even lovelier. Maybe it was because of the fact that Anne lived there and Harry grew up there, but she was ever so sweet and welcomed you in with open arms. 

She had taken a liking to you immediately, telling you childhood stories of Harry and his sister, Gemma, that only family knew. Harry was ultimately surprised at how quickly Anne opened up to you. He knew his mother was kind, but she kept to herself and didn’t speak when she was uncomfortable, so to see his mother laughing loudly with his also somewhat shy girlfriend, made his heart burst with love. 

Harry had watched them sit at the dining table, sharing stories as he leaned against the kitchen counter as he wore a robe to keep him warm while smiling so big that his jaw physically started to hurt. 

He’d never had felt so loved and had never loved anything like he does with you. It surprised him how fast he fell for you, but it was quite possibly the easiest thing he did. There was no judgement in the relationship. You had kept him grounded and helped him when he was going through a rut when writing. 

The only thing that was bad about the relationship was the distance that will be put between you two when you leave to go back home. He didn’t want this to become a fling, to have a time limit. He knew exactly what he was getting into the day he asked you to be his, and he didn’t want to let go of you. 

And he truly hoped you felt the same. 

Just after you and Harry were back in London after visiting Anne and his hometown, finals had approached rather quickly. You had had a great time spending a little time with his mother, and you think she liked you very much. There were countless conversations and laughs that you will never forget. 

“Can I ask you something sweetheart?” Anne asked. 

“Of course,” you said, and you had been nervous as to what she was going to ask. 

“You mentioned that you were leaving just before the holiday, but I just wanted to ask where that leaves you and Harry. Are you two still going to be together?” A frown had made an appearance on her face, resembling your own. 

“I would like to. We haven’t spoken about it, but I’m sure that conversation will happen soon,” you had answered honestly.

“You still would still want to be with him?” You nodded in response. “That’s great to know. I like you a lot, and Harry has taken quite the liking towards you as well, but I just didn’t know if it was some sort of abroad type of relationship; someone to just keep you company in a new country-”

“No, it’s nothing like that! I know it’s only been almost two months of our relationship, but I love him, and I would never let him go. I didn’t want to study abroad to have a relationship, but he stumbled into my life so unexpectedly and I don’t have plans of letting that kind of love go.” 

Everything you had said was the whole truth. You weren’t expecting a relationship to come out of this, but you’re so immensely happy that it did because Harry walked into your life. Although you hadn’t known him for a very long time, quality overruled quantity. The connection you two had made within the few months meant something deeper than a fling. 

Anne smiled and nodded, like she was appreciating you and her respect for you had increased. The topic was over, and it was onto the next that was followed by laughs. And that entire time you stayed at her house, Anne knew exactly why Harry had fallen in love with you. 

The last week of being in London had come very quickly, and sadness was an understatement. 

The people who were leaving had decided to start packing the things that they didn’t need and weren’t going to use anymore, so they had extra time to spend and go out with everyone because packing your things for four months plus the things you bought wasn’t all that fun. 

It was Monday morning after finals when you had heard your phone buzz on your bedside table. You had groaned as it felt like you had slept for only 30 minutes. You debated on whether to check it in your sleepy state. The buzzing had stopped, making your thoughts turn off, but started back up once again and you figured you should check it. 

Harry was calling you in the early hours of the morning. It was 6 a.m and if it were anyone else, you would ignore it. 

“Harry? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You had mumbled once you answered the phone. Harry chuckled, but also fell deeper in love as you were just as caring as you were awake. 

“Darling, m’fine! M’actually outside of your dorm. I didn’t want to knock and wake everyone else up, but get up. We’re going on an adventure,” he said in a hushed voice, and you practically heard his smile through the phone. 

“Harry…” your eyes were still closed, exhausted from your slumber. 

“Please, baby. You won’t regret it.” 

And you didn’t. You never regretted anything when it came to Harry. 

You had gotten up and dressed warm enough for your adventure, and met Harry outside to which he rewarded you with a hug and kiss, thanking you for putting up with him. 

You both got in Peter’s car that Harry had begged him to take for a little bit, and luckily he agreed because the tube wasn’t running at that time. With Harry’s arm in your lap, you leaned on his arm as you closed your eyes until he took you both to your destination.

It was still a bit dark out, but it was way past the starry night it was a few hours ago. The sun was just about ready to rise, and the early bird got the worm. 

Harry had held your hand as he led you both up to top of the Primrose Hill, showing the beautiful London city. It had taken you both a while to get to the top, due to you being extremely sleepy still and sluggishly holding you both back. Harry had set a blanket down for you two to sit on, and you immediately snuggled into him. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darling. We have a sunrise to watch,” he said, leaning his head down and caressing your face. 

“Mmm. Tired,” you grumbled. 

“Please? It’s your last week here,” he said sadly, and you wished you hadn’t complained that you were tired because hearing his tone had almost broke your heart. But that woke you up slightly, realizing that you didn’t want to miss another moment with him. 

The sky had gotten a little lighter, and Harry checked his phone for the time, about 30 minutes till the sun started to rise. 

“Tell me something,” he said. It had been a thing you two did when you started hanging out. It was sort of a confession time; either can say anything you want to say and the other will listen. 

“I’m going to miss you so much that the thought of us not being physically next to each other will hurt so bad,” you confessed. 

“I’m going to miss you too.” 

“Baby, you don’t understand. My heart will completely break once I part ways with you at the airport. I cant handle it, Harry,” your body had completely faced his, and he noticed your eyes were swollen from the lack of sleep and the incoming tears. 

“Hey, I know exactly how you feel. You’re not the only one who gets to feel like that,” he said more seriously. “But we’re gonna get through this, okay? We’ll do everything to make sure we make it together,” he had placed a hand on your cheek. 

“You want this right?” Your insecurities had gotten in the way and you needed reassurance from him, and Harry knew that and didn’t ever complain to give it to you. 

“Of course, baby. Never gave you a reason telling you I didn’t want this, right?” You shook your head, tears had made its way down your face, and Harry had shared the same tears as you. “Then don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” Harry held you to his chest and you both cried in each other’s arms. 

The sunrise was as beautiful as ever that morning, screaming for a new beginning as the sun illuminated the sky into an orange and yellow glow. The new beginning was right in your arms as you held him tighter while tears fell down both of your faces, feeling powerful and stronger together as you two poured every emotion and energy into each other. 

Harry was your sunrise and your sunset. 

You wanted to spend the beginning of every morning with him and have him be the last thing you see before you are pulled into a deep slumber, dreaming of him for hours until you see his face again and make him your reality. 

And you both were going to make it. 

The ride to the airport was long and filled with silence as words weren’t needed at that time; only the hurt because of the love that was so strong that nothing could come between you two. Not even distance. 

You already missed the whole group dearly, and the last dinner with everyone was bittersweet. It was an emotional one as everyone talked about their favorite times and laughed at memories of drunken stories. And at the end, everyone raised a glass. 

“To the best group of friends out there.” 

“To a talented ass group of artists and writers.” 

“To love, laughter, and the pub.” 

“To new beginnings, but never endings.” 

Everyone cried and hugged each other, making the moment last forever, but it was definitely not the last time. 

You slowly walked with Harry, hand in hand as he rolled your luggage, to the area where you both had to part your ways. He had kissed your hand and head multiple times until you stood facing in front of him. 

The embrace you two shared was the most gut wrenching feeling you had ever felt in your life, and it felt like your heart was physically breaking along with Harry’s. 

Your hearts had always been in sync, beating as fast as the other or filling in beats for one another when one of your hearts had skipped a beat. Being without one another would feel like a missing beat in your hearts, and you needed the other to fulfill it.

“This is not goodbye. It’s never going to be goodbye with you, okay?” Harry’s voice croaked and you nodded, too afraid to speak as tears spilled out of your eyes. 

You were breathing deeply, knowing you should go through TSA already as you both were trying to spend every last minute together. 

“Tell me something?” Harry had asked one last time in person. You thought hard about it, wanting to make it the best one he’s ever heard. 

“I love you, baby.” 

He gave you a small and sad smile as more tears formed in his eyes, “I love you too. So much, darling.” 

And then you were off.

Harry had watched you walk away until he couldn’t see you anymore before he had sulked back to his dorm, crying all the way back. He felt empty without you beside him. With spending everyday with each other for the past four months, it had felt like a punch to his chest when you had left. 

When he had gotten back to his room, he noticed a large square board wrapped in festive wrapping paper with an envelope attached to it. 

‘To my lovely Harry, 

Thank you for loving with me, laughing with me, and living with me. You’re the best person I’ve ever come to know, so I hope you enjoy this piece that was dedicated to you (and our group of friends). I’m so grateful you’re the person who has my heart.

I love you and miss you so much. 

Yours forever.

The tears hadn’t stopped since he saw you leave, and they kept on coming as he opened his present.

Sitting in his hands was your final project along with your paper. It was a painting of his hand holding a heart as blood dripped from it. He noticed it was his hand because of the various rings he wore. The London Eye, Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, and the pub were at the aorta as a plane curved from around the heart. The background was painted as an orange and yellow color, symbolizing the sunset. 

Harry sobbed and hugged your painting to his chest, feeling as if it’s the last thing he has of you for a while. He picked up your paper and read the title. 

‘The Power of Being Vulnerable’ 

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

And so you were sat on a floral blanket, two years later; setting up your lunch, and taking out your sketchbook along with your supplies. You had brought your painting easel, in case it wasn’t going to rain, and you’re glad that you brought it because the weather was just gorgeous enough to paint outside for a while.

Before you went to the park, you had time to make a quick and small charcuterie board that was filled with Brie, prosciutto, crackers, and honey; a snack that would take up your time under the warm sun. 

You started sketching your drawing until you felt a familiar pair of lips against your cheek behind you. 

“Hi, darling,” his raspy voice that had brought you immediate peace said in your ear. You turned your head, and saw the beautiful smile beaming down at you before sitting down and meeting you at eye level, giving you a kiss to your lips. 

“Hi, baby.” 

“Sorry I’m late, quite the line at the sandwich shop, but I got your favorite as always.” You smiled after him, thanking him for waiting in that line and for the food. 

“It’s okay, practically just sat down a few minutes ago, and set everything up.” 

“Okay, good. By the way, you look absolutely beautiful,” he took off his sunglasses to give him a more clear look. You were wearing a dress that complimented your skin tone, making your eyes enticing that he couldn’t help but fall more in love.

“Thank you, my love. You look so handsome,” you complimented back, leaning in to peck his lips. Harry was wearing a plaid button down flannel, black jeans, boots, and a fedora. His hair has grown much longer over the past few years, and you honestly love it. One day, you had told him that he looks like a prince to which you earned a blush. 

“Gonna paint, my darling?” 

“Yeah. Nice weather out today, so definitely going to.” 

“Can’t wait you see what you put together,” Harry smiles, making the dimples that you love so much, pop out. 

You and Harry spent the rest of the day together before it was time to head to dinner with the six other people that had changed your life. It was something simple like sitting on top of the same hill you were at two years ago that made your heart flutter. With his head in your lap as he read a book, occasionally stopping to scratch his head and give him a kiss to his forehead, and you sitting upright painting away as he fed you crackers and cheese, you would have never known this is how your life would turn out. 

You were extremely grateful for the years you were given to be with Harry and your group of friends that you love so dearly. You were a shy girl, scared of being scared, hardly opened up to anyone. 

But that same shy girl blossomed. She blossomed into a beautiful woman who was being praised and treated like the way she should. The man beside her had reminded her every single day that she is a stunning and caring person that deserves the world and more. She eventually started to believe it herself. She began to start seeing herself that way. She woke up and looked in the mirror and started to remind herself that she was beautiful and that she was going to take over the world. 

The affirmations had come from opening herself up to people who genuinely cared about her. Because being vulnerable isn’t bad whatsoever. 

It allowed you to let go of whatever pain there was inside your heart and leaned onto someone so they could hold your pain as well because you finally weren’t alone. You finally had people who loved you and needed you. 

You had opened your heart up all those years ago, and it led you to the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With two years of loving each other and two years of long distance, you had opened up your heart to the most special man in the world. The constant tears of missing each other from the other side of the world. The need to feel his touch. The tiring plane rides every four months to visit him, until it was his turn to visit you. The care packages. The long FaceTime chats. They all led to the best hugs when you reunited with Harry. 

You would travel the world and back if it meant Harry was your destination. 

And it was where the world took you that led to your forever. 

feedback is appreciated here! <3 also i would love to take blurbs for this and write more about them, so please let me know what you like to read!

[tabloidtoc]

Us, May 3

You can buy a brand new copy of this issue without the mailing label for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Pregnant Meghan Markle: My Baby, My Way

Page 2: Red Carpet -- rufflemania -- Hollywood style stars are tier-ing it up in this flattering design with feminine flair -- Tracee Ellis Ross, Kaitlyn Dever, Margot Robbie, Logan Browning, Nicola Coughlan

Page 3: Lizzo, Maude Apatow, Lucy Boynton, Jessica Alba, Lily Collins

Page 4: Who Wore It Best? Anya Taylor-Joy vs. Isla Fisher vs. Regina King in Stuart Weitzman Nudist sandal

Page 6: Loose Talk -- Shonda Rhimes on the intense backlash she received over Rege-Jean Page's exit from Bridgerton, Kelly Ripa on her most embarrassing interview, Luke Bryan on his mother LeClaire's Instagram fame, Blake Shelton on The Voice's new coach Ariana Grande, Reese Witherspoon joking about wearing bottoms that aren't sweatpants

Page 8: Contents

Page 10: A Final Farewell to Prince Philip, his four children Prince Charles and Princess Anne and Prince Andrew and Prince Edward were among the loved ones who participated in the emotional ceremony, feuding brothers Prince Harry and Prince William (and his wife Duchess Kate) put their differences aside after the intimate service, due to Covid-19 protocols the grieving Queen Elizabeth stayed socially distant from the other 29 people who attended the funeral for her husband of 73 years

Page 11: ACM Awards 2021 -- Maren Morris teamed up with her husband Ryan Hurd and won Female Artist of the Year, Thomas Rhett won Male Artist of the Year, Carrie Underwood took the stage

Page 12: Hot Pics -- Rosie Huntington-Whiteley wore an orange coat during a visit to NYC, John Stamos plays a coach on the TV show Big Shot, Zach Braff goofed around on the set of Cheaper by the Dozen in L.A.

Page 13: Eva Longoria on her trampoline while aboard a yacht in Miami, Howie Mandel arrived to the set of America's Got Talent dressed as a bug in Pasadena

Page 14: Jon Hamm and his rescue dog Splash strolled around the neighborhood in L.A., Heidi Klum in all white in Pasadena, Sara Gilbert and Linda Perry take a stroll in L.A.

Page 15: Eddie Cibrian and LeAnn Rimes held hands after dinner at Il Segreto in L.A., Patrick Dempsey shot a scene for his show Devils in Rome

Page 16: Rachel Brosnahan in a blue dress and carrying a clear umbrella on the set of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel in NYC, Lin-Manuel Miranda at the opening of a vaccination center for Broadway workers in Times Square, Trisha Yearwood feeds one of her rescue pups

Page 18: Gen Z Has Spoken -- these celebs are making the young kids proud -- Baggy Jeans -- Hailey Bieber, Tracee Ellis Ross, Bella Hadid

Page 19: Middle Parts -- Busy Philipps, Lizzo, Jennifer Lopez, Kourtney Kardashian, baguette bags -- Dua Lipa, Elsa Hosk, Irina Shayk, Kendall Jenner

Page 20: Seeing Double -- stars bear a striking resemblance to their famous counterparts -- Elizabeth Banks and Chelsea Handler, Emmanuelle Chriqui and Nina Dobrev, Betty Gilpin and Jodie Comer

Page 21: Rob Lowe and Ian Somerhalder, Jaime Pressly and Margot Robbie, Isla Fisher and Amy Adams, Rupert Grint and Ed Sheeran, Kyle Richards and Kacey Musgraves

Page 22: Clueless Crew -- stars are totally buggin' over Cher Horowitz's style in yellow plaid -- Robin Roberts on Good Morning America, Katie Holmes was rollin' with her homie beau Emilio Vitolo Jr. in NYC, Vanessa Hudgens, Dianna Agron

Page 23: Gabrielle Union

Page 24: Stars They're Not Like Us -- Jay Leno took one of his vintage automobiles out for a spin in L.A., Chrissy Teigen and John Legend took a selfie with a fan while grocery shopping in Beverly Hills, Kylie Jenner has custom vending machines

Page 25: Carrie Underwood in her massive walk-in closet, Denzel Washington signs autographs for fans in NYC, Megan Thee Stallion on a private plane, Drake and his bodyguard in Beverly Hills

Page 26: Stars They're Just Like Us -- Sarah Jessica Parker catches a yellow cab after working at her shoe store in NYC, Brad Paisley picked up five pizzas to go in Montecito

Page 27: Kelly Osbourne handed out goods at a drive-thru food distribution event at the Islamic Center of Southern California, HGTV's Egypt Sherrod transformed her closet into a meditation space in Atlanta, in between filming Law & Order: SVU's Mariska Hargitay and Ice-T take a selfie

Page 28: Hollywood Dads -- Scott Porter on parenting his two kids McCoy and Clover

Page 29: Jonathan Tucker on life with twins Hayes and India, parenthood is a lot tougher than Jovi Dufren imagined, Maksim Chmerkovskiy can't wait to show son Shai his work

Page 30: Love Lives -- Rihanna and A$AP Rocky are showing no signs of slowing down -- the pair enjoyed a night out in L.A. hotspot Delilah where they were holding hands and laughing and they're not hiding the fact that they're dating but they just don't want people in their business -- they're a good match and are each other's best friend

Page 31: Justin Bieber and Hailey Bieber may look like the picture-perfect couple, but Justin admits that their first year of marriage wasn't what he expected, saying it was really tough and there was just a lack of trust and he blamed the strain on his own personal struggles and said before he didn't have someone to love or someone to pour into but now, more than two years after exchanging vows with Hailey, he has that

* Kacey Musgraves' romance with Dr. Gerald Onuoha is giving her butterflies -- the pair are so happy they found each other and while Kacey, who split from her husband Ruston Kelly last summer, is trying not to get too ahead of herself, her connection to the Nashville-based doc is off the charts and it's got the potential to go a very long way

* Today's Savannah Guthrie is thankful to have husband Michael Feldman in her life, especially given the demands of her early morning work schedule

Page 32: Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker are getting serious -- all the details on their whirlwind romance

Page 33: Adapting to parenthood has been a breeze for Emma Stone and she's soaking in all the precious moments of being a mom for the first time -- she and husband Dave McCary welcomed their baby daughter in March and Emma is super protective and a very hands-on mom and Dave is also hands-on and helps with their daughter -- thanks to the little one, Emma's marriage with the comedian has also gotten stronger and having a baby has brought them closer in a way they never expected -- Emma is looking forward to getting back to work; she's taken this time off to embrace motherhood and her number one priority is to raise a healthy baby so that's what she's focused on right now

* Britney Spears is setting the record straight -- despite her ongoing conservatorship battle with her dad, Jamie Spears, she is doing totally fine, assuring fans that she's extremely happy and she has a beautiful home, beautiful children and she's taking a break right now because she's enjoying herself -- although the legal drama with her father is heating up, Britney is staying strong and she has this wonderful ability to see the positive even when the odds are against her

* Keeping Up With Us -- production for the Downton Abbey sequel is underway, Mossimo Giannulli is a free man, Chrissy Teigen returned to Twitter 23 days after announcing that she was leaving the platform, Vanessa Bryant remembered her late husband Kobe Bryant on what would have been their 20th wedding anniversary, Helen McCrory lost her battle with cancer at age 52 according to her husband Damian Lewis

Page 34: A Day in My Life -- Whitney Port

Page 35: Colton Underwood is ready to live his truth -- during an interview on Good Morning America, the former Bachelor came out as gay, saying he's run from himself for a long time and he came to terms with his sexuality earlier this year and he's the happiest and healthiest he's ever been -- now that he feels like he can finally breathe, Colton is excited for his next chapter, which fans will get to see on an upcoming reality show with Olympian Gus Kenworthy -- a huge weight has been lifted off of Colton's shoulders and he is looking forward to being his authentic self

Page 36: Moms Tell All -- Happy Mother's Day! From milestones and manners to rules and nanny-bans, celebs and insiders talk about raising kids in Hollywood

Page 37: Bindi Irwin says life at home with her daughter Grace Warrior has been positively blissful and her family with dad Chandler Powell is so full of love, adding that the newborn has already met some of the wildlife at the Australia Zoo where Bindi and Chandler live and work and of course she's seen some crocs and really lit up when she saw them -- while the Aussie conservationist is sad Grace won't get to meet her late dad Steve Irwin, Bindi's brother Robert Irwin and mom Terri Irwin have been by her side constantly and Robert is obsessed with Grace and has been helping out so much and her mom has been the biggest guiding light and she's already taught Bindi so much about being a mother, both in how she raised her and by showing her things day by day and Terri is quite the baby whisperer and she's so great a calming Grace down when she's crying -- first-time father Chandler is also a natural with Grace and he's been the most supportive and involved dad and together, he and Bindi make such a great team -- for now, Bindi, who stars with Chandler in Crikey! It's a Baby!, is hoping Grace will follow in her animal-activist footsteps, saying having three generations of strong women working as conservationists is a dream come true

* Jennifer Garner said teaching your kids is a lifelong job, and certainly values are something you have to show them -- Jennifer, who shares kids Violet, Seraphina and Samuel with ex Ben Affleck, is staying true to her word and has led by example when it comes to things like kindness and patience and she won't let anyone in the house to judge or speak ill of people, and she enforces the same wholesome, traditional values that she was raised with and the kids have been taught to be loving, hardworking and fair -- Jennifer has always taken a kids-come-first approach to parenting, and it shows as they bake together, enjoy movie nights, read books and have very active lives and it's a very healthy, happy household filled with laughter and love

Page 38: Gwen Stefani has her hands full with her sons Kingston, Zuma and Apollo with ex-husband Gavin Rossdale, but she wouldn't want it any other way -- Gwen's a tomboy, so having three boys wasn't daunting for her at all, plus she has fiance Blake Shelton by her side to pitch in with parenting duties and Gwen and the boys have a blast at Blake's ranch in Oklahoma where they enjoy riding their ATVs, and they play baseball and football -- it's not all fun and games, though because Gwen is big on boundaries and manners and she doesn't want to raise Hollywood brats and it's important to her that her sons be gentlemen

* Meghan Markle's pregnancy with Archie was no walk in the park, as she revealed during her bombshell TV interview with husband Prince Harry, the couple had concerns over whether or not the royal family would provide security for their son and claimed there were conversations about his skin color -- but this time around, as Meghan and Harry gear up for baby No. 2 at home in L.A., she's doing everything her way, without the royals and Meghan and Harry feel blessed that they're able to raise their daughter in the U.S. and can live by their own rules and make the decisions they feel are best for their children; having independence is the most important thing for Meghan and she's got free rein to be exactly the kind of mom she wants to be -- her parenting style is really like most mothers out there, and she's been craving pasta and doing yoga two times a day as her due date nears and she keeps a lot of art supplies out to foster creativity and healthy snacks around and she's a devoted mom and wants the best for her kids

Page 39: Kate Hudson has a lot on her plate, so the mom of three, who shares son Ryder with former husband Chris Robinson and son Bingham with ex Matt Bellamy and daughter Rani with boyfriend Danny Fujikawa, knows when to put her foot down as things can get a little overwhelming at times for Kate, but when she says no, it absolutely means no, and the kids respect her very much because of that

* Gigi Hadid, who shares daughter Khai with boyfriend Zayn Malik, wants to spend every waking moment with her precious little girl -- Gigi could easily afford to employ a team of nannies but chooses not to and she prefers to do everything herself and besides, she can't bear to be away from Khai for more than a few hours

* Candace Cameron Bure's three grown kids are flying the coop, but she's still super involved in their lives, despite slowly becoming an empty nester -- the mom of Natasha, Lev, and Maksim with former hockey player Valeri Bure says it's been a very transitional time and she's been trying to help them make decisions they feel good about and it's challenging, but they're figuring it out

Page 40: Oh, Baby! Meghan Markle's due date is just around the corner, and here are all the details

* Bump Brigade -- Halsey, Gal Gadot, Shawn Johnson East

Page 42: 10 Years of the Cambridges -- a look back at Prince William and Duchess Kate Middleton's solid marriage for their anniversary

Page 44: Jennifer Lopez and Alex Rodriguez: What Really Happened -- cheating and lies? The truth behind J.Lo's split from fiance A-Rod

Page 45: Friendliest Exes -- these former couples managed to stay close after going their separate ways -- Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin, Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux, Orlando Bloom and Miranda Kerr, Demi Moore and Bruce Willis, Lisa Bonet and Lenny Kravitz

Page 48: Gifts for Mother's Day

Page 54: Entertainment -- Ben Barnes on Shadow and Bone

Page 58: Fashion Police -- the most daring Oscars looks -- Bjork, Whoopi Goldberg, Charlize Theron

Page 59: Rachel Weisz, Gwyneth Paltrow, Lady Gaga

Page 60: 25 Things You Don't Know About Me -- Julia Michaels

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.5

A scream shocks you out of your fuzzy thoughts. You look around and notice Connor sitting alert and looking like he wants to run down the hallway this very instant.

“Connor?” the head snaps to you immediately and before you can even question his presence in your home he jumps up and barks then walks in circles near the door.

Great a dog who has no sense of horror movie tropes. Since the scream did come from inside your house you should go find the person who made it and see what's wrong. Also maybe get clarification on why they're in your home. You aren't dead and are still in the same clothes so you figure you're alright around them. You follow Connor to where Toby is, in your kitchen staring out the window standing at a very odd angle. Like he caught himself before he fell backwards but hadn't bothered to get up.

“What's up....oh.” is all you can say as you see Chonk's head whip towards you and Connor before he books it for the tree line. Damn that fat raccoon can run fast, good to know if he ever wants to chase you down in the future. Which he might if you don't leave his slice of pizza out today.

“'oh' 'oh', that's all yo-you've got to say about a giant fuck-ing ra-mrrow- raccoon!?!” maybe thinking this guy was composed and unphased was a misconception, if seeing Chonk has put his world views in question.

“I mean he probably just eats a lot of pizza.” to put it simply you never gave much thought to the fat little trash thief, he was just fat and he existed. Visiting your home for the slice he deemed his every other week. Probably had other homes in Kepler he terrorized for the same reasons. God knows Leo would never put up with a raccoon trashing his store for his pizza. Or even his home for that matter.

“He's nearly half the size of Connor!” looking down towards Connor you tilt your head.

“Are we talking about with his legs or just his torso?” you could maybe see the size comparison with the dog's body but with his height it was a different matter all together.

Toby rolls his eyes before going and sitting down at the small breakfast table where he seemed to have found your fidget cube and had been well fidgeting with it. You take the seat opposite of him, it's weird having a guest over especially when you didn't invite them in. Well now that removes the chances of him being a vampire you suppose.

Perfect not a kidnapper, nor a vampire, and he's helped you out twice now. The two of you might well be on your way to becoming best friends. That is if he could get past this episode of yours.

“I still don't know what happened last night, but I'm done with the freak out.” you say as you idly pet Connor.

“...What?” he's squinting at you trying to get a read on how anyone bounces back from something like that so calmly in a matter of hours. Especially when he'd been checking up on you and Connor only to see you still staring off into space.

“Oh, uh... I have Autism. Isn't good for much but helps me rationalize events quicker and move past emotional and mental breakdowns pretty quick too.”

“Is that an Autism thing?” you shrug at his question as he jerks his shoulders forwards a few times.

“Probably more of a me thing, but I've read the trait tends to be more common in those of us who are neurodivergent.”

You hear a murmur of telling someone later later. Filing that away to take note of another day you stare at Toby who in turn stares back. This goes on for a bit, you couldn't even classify it as a staring contest since you are both still blinking occasionally. You aren't really sure if you should say 'thank you' first and then ask the man what he's doing in your home or wait for him to break the silence. But as you stare at Toby, into his eyes, you get the feeling this man is more of a zombie than anything else. The type to drag along and go at a snails pace rather than get into the messy bits in one go...ironic choice for comparison.

“Thank you for driving me home...but why are you still here?” you hear a huff of laughter?

“You weren't really in a position...” knuckles pop “to be left alone. What if you got back into your car again?” his eyes cut and there's a bit of bite to his words...it wasn't directed towards you, you can feel that much.

“Fair enough.” you glance at the stove and see the clock shine a little before six. “Would you like some breakfast” his neck snaps to the left triggering your own to snap as well, “or a ride home?” you finish asking.

“Can you make something for Connor too? Don't trust you behind the wheel yet.”

“Oh sure! What does he normally eat?” Perking up at the thought of the dog being off duty, that means actual pets!

“He-mrrow- normally gets oatmeal with some fruit or veg and anything raw I can find.” He finishes with a whistle for Connor's attention, and then a pointed finger flipping down in front of him. The dog trots over and sits down, while Toby takes off the vest you look through your cupboards to find the rolled oats you'd gotten as incentive to eat in the mornings before realizing you only liked them on certain days.

“So what does Tobias normally eat?” you call out as you look for some honey you know you threw in the cupboards.

“Anything really. I don't do slimy textures or anything watery.”

“Watery? Like soups?” Found a can of pumpkin, it's still in date too, perfect.

“Watery like...when you put too much water in oatmeal.” He nods when you silently show him the can of pumpkin asking if that'd be fine for his boy, who is sitting down drooling from his smiling face as Toby tussles his ears.

“Ahhh, thin watery got it.” You hear movement and a few grunts from Toby as you assume he tics, trying to ignore them so they won't trigger your own you look through the fridge. You suddenly take a deep breath, while looking for a meat in your fridge, and let out a shrill trill. Kinda sounds like a Togepi's cry from the cartoon. Shaking your head your eyes catch the eggs and turkey sausages you have.

“Will turkey sausage and eggs work for you two?”

“Never had turkey sausage but it should be fine.” he's leaning forward resting his head in his arms on the table as Connor lays by his bouncing feet.

You set the eye to medium heat and put the sausages on first, leaving three out for Connor. He is a big dog after all. You turned your focus on preparing Connor's oatmeal while the sausages cooked. It was kinda nice having company over even though the circumstances weren't the best. Your neck jerks to the side three times before pulling back. There's more on the way your neck didn't crack and your body doesn't let up until it does.

“So what disorder do you have?” You turn to give Toby a confused look you hope he can read through your mask.

“...I have a few..you want the list?”

“No, the tics. Lower level Tourettes or what?”

“Oh, they stem from my” head jerking twice to the side before cracking “there we go.” “Sorry, they stem from my Autism, at least that's the best I can gather without seeing a specialist. Virginia doctors suck big time.”

“Tell me about it.” that perks you right up, you knew you caught a transatlantic accent, it's pretty much the lack of an accent that gives Virginians away so easily. You already have two guesses on where Toby came from.

“I knew it, you're from Halifax aren't you?!” Since you've turned around to face him you see the exact moment his face drops. Eyes shocked wide open.

“How...did”

“Oh it's easy once you know what to listen for, in fact it was the total lack of any distinguishing accent or use of slang that gave you a way. A lot of people don't notice what they take from their communities linguistically speaking. And for us Virginians it's what we don't take. It's such a bland neutral midpoint it's why it had been so coveted during the radio era and while we might've lost the in-fluctuations as time went by, no longer needing them for our voices to be heard over various frequencies....am I talking too much you can tell me to shut up, really you won't hurt my feelings.” you give Toby a minute to process everything you've just said.

“Special interest?”

“mmm, more a...an interesting factoid.” you hope he registers your smile, hell you hope he doesn't think you're weird. You know how much you can be sometimes, especially when you info dump or overshare information. He manages to nod along with you before finding his voice again.

“Lemme guess NOVA?”

“Pfft, seriously.” you really need him to at least register the disgust on your face if he hasn't been able to read you before, “Listen the Beach isn't much better but I'd probably off myself if I was from NOVA.”

“A public service really.”

You both stare at each other before breaking into a fit of laughter. It's nothing huge but it does seem to put Toby more at ease you noticed. In the time it took you to make breakfast for all three of you you've found out a little bit more about Toby.

He's uncomfortable talking about his hometown, at least you assume, so instead he mentions that he recently came to town with his friends, Brian and Tim. Talks mostly about Connor and you learn he's to help alert Toby of his Tourettes when driving and he can even detect seizures with Brian. That's amazing, service dogs have sure come a long way! And you love hearing what a silly puppy Connor is off duty, it makes you smile. Toby in turn asks about you, and you are such a well of stories. You tell him about your family back on the coast, about your recent move to Kepler, give him a little info on Kepler to help him adjust to his stay, and even get on the topic of your extensive work with animals.

“Sounds like you were working towards being a trainer, why didn't you?”

Making a sound that sort of sounds like a jumbled 'I dunno', “Sort of don't like people that much. Dogs are fine, less complex and less likely to complain when you do something in a different way. But a trainer doesn't train the dog, they train the people.” You're placing Connor's food in front of him as he sits patiently.

It's quiet for a moment as you place a plate in front of Toby and set yours down as well. Not tense just quiet, it's very calming really. Until Toby ruins it.

“Thanks Connor.”

Like he's a voice actor who is over exaggerating the sound effects of a dog munching away at their bowl. Connor inhales harshly before diving head first into the bowl. The dog is ferociously tearing into his breakfast and you can't help the laughter that spills from you at his enthusiasm. Hands coming up near your face and shaking as you shift from foot to foot. It's a happy stim, cute dogs are of course a trigger, someone can complain later you're happy to see a happy excited pup any day.

Taking your seat and turning your attention to your food, you see Toby hasn't touched his own. He's staring at the plate with a furrowed brow, he glances up to you as you remove your mask. You feel a bit vulnerable to be honest.

“Oh is something wrong? Do you want something else?”  He's a guest who's helped you twice now the least you can do is make sure he leaves your home full.

It takes a moment but he gathers his thoughts to explain, “I have a scar...it's pretty bad.” he looks away from you.

You tilt your head not quiet understanding what he means, “Cool story, do you want me to look away?”

He stalls at this, you just keep throwing him for a loop since you met the other day. While he thinks on it you scoop some of your eggs on your spoon and into your mouth. Perfect texture and prefect flavor, today will be good.

Toby seems to have made his decision and without any show he takes his mask off to begin eating. You can see the scar he was talking about, and while the currently red and bleeding'?!' scar on the left corner of his mouth was bad it wasn't much compared to the gaping hole further up that side on his cheek. You can clearly see the even whiter, how this boy is so pale is beyond you, skin around the edges suggesting the wound was older and had started to heal at some point. But you could see most of the teeth on the left side of his mouth. You've never seen these teeth while they were still in the head. A skull or 3D model yea. But never a living breathing person's head. It's fascinating really, you hadn't even noticed that you finished your breakfast as you watched him eat, you were so enthralled.

“You know your lip's bleeding right?” eyes never leaving the boy's teeth as you see them grind down the eggs into the tiniest particles. Neat!

“Rwhatf?” the way he can talk with his mouth full without spilling it from the hole is fucking magic and you won't hear another word on it.

He takes a drink of water, again it doesn't spill. Then you notice the slight tilt of his head...oh he's had practice doing this. Impressive honestly.

“That's what you choose to comment on?” his eyes narrow at you're still gawking form.

“I'm sorry I've just never seen those type of teeth still in head, normally muscle and...and skin cover them. So this is really cool to see them in action!” gosh you're so damn weird. By his stupefied expression Toby seems to think so too.

“Plus the wound looks healed but the lips look fresh,” you get up and grab a few paper towels bringing them over to offer to Toby, “Not to mention it's bleeding and you haven't once wiped it.”

He doesn't reply as he takes the napkins from you and dabs at his scarred lip, looking back and seeing blood just as you said. He was right when he thought he'd been biting himself a few hours ago. He'd totally forgotten to check after getting you home.

“Well I don't feel it so I didn't know actually.” he just resumes eating as if this conversation didn't happen.

“Didn't, didn't, didn't” you get stuck in a loop for a bit before breaking out “you didn't feel it? What do you have congenital insensitivity to pain?” you ask incredulously.

“I haven't heard it called that since I got diagnosed.” still eating he looks at you through his long eyelashes.

This dude could not be a real person. You had to have been imagining your dream friend. Everything you learned about Toby was more interesting than the last...at least for you it was.

“Medical history podcasts are interesting.” you shrug, “should I get the first aid kit?” at his shrug you get up and go to your bathroom to retrieve the kit.

Coming back into the kitchen you catch Toby lowering your plates for Connor to lick clean. You don't see a problem with it but you will wash everything twice since the pup has slobbered on nearly everything anyway. When you don't say anything he lets Connor continue before placing the dishes in your sink.

“Such a big help” you say patting Connor's head as you pass him, “Yea I really am” Toby says as he sits back down. Propping his arm up on the table to rest his head on his knuckles, it was such a fluid and casual motion. As if he's sat at this table everyday of his life, like this was his home and you were his guest. Tied in with how comfy he is man spreading at your kitchen table you'd say he made himself at home just fine.

You smile and scoot your chair next to him first aid kit in between you on the table. Toby looks between you and the kit before leaning in closer for you to work. Grabbing the antiseptic cleaning towels you go to wipe Toby's lip when he flinches away. Probably faking to see your reaction.

“Oh, fuck off you have CIPA.” you laugh grabbing his chin to keep him in place. He rolls his eyes “And you're weird.” The vibrations feel weird against your fingers.

“I know.” you continue cleaning the small bite mark? Well he does have CIPA he wouldn't be able to feel the pain if he was gnawing at his lips. Would he be able to taste the metallic tang of his blood or were taste buds effected by the disorder too? You might need to do another deep dive on this, it just became relevant. Maybe an anxious tic, judging from the larger wound it could be possible. Wearing a mask must help to hide it but not not to stop it getting worse if no one can call you out on it.

“That wasn't an insult...” he says making you look up into his eyes as you dry the wound, “I know.” You smile down at him, knowing this time he can see it on your maskless face.

When you finished cleaning his wounded lips, you drove Toby and Connor back to their home. Which turned out to be the RV at the forgotten entrance of the forest. Toby had been a little wary you knew where he was talking about but seemed to shake it off just as quick when you mentioned hiking a lot and using that entrance because it was the closest to you.

He had put Connor's vest back on and hopped in the back with him. You noticed from the review that Connor's full attention was on you.

“This set up let's him focus on the driver, so he'll tell us if something will impede your driving.” Well that explains Brian's position the first time you four met.

Nodding you sync you phone with the car's bluetooth and pass it to Toby with spotify open.

“Rules of the road, passenger picks music.” you say simply when he questioned it.

He quickly clicked your last playlist. Probably either too lazy to find something or trying to get a better read on you. Music says a lot about a person even if not everyone thinks that way. And unfortunately for you this playlist screams mental illness and a need for therapy. But you have folk punk. So who needs therapy when you can just scream cry these lyrics.

Toby doesn't comment on it, either just totally apathetic or maybe he likes it. He's a bit of an enigma, he's open and honest for the most part but saves his opinions unless directly asked.

Even after making it to the RV without incident Toby tries to distract you for a bit and tempt you out of the car with the possibility of playing with Connor. As fun as the idea sounds and as much as you don't want to be rude, you're very tired and drained. Probably more from “hanging out” with Toby this morning than your actual episode last night. Plus you understand Toby's just trying to be nice and maybe ensure your safety.

“Could I maybe rain-check? I'm actually really tired.” you say with your most polite smile, though he can't see it through the mask  you know he sees the crinkle of your eyes.

“Sure, just get home safe.” you feel that's less about you, but you aren't sure what the hanging subject is. So cryptic.

“Yup,” you chirp, “See you later Tobias!” as you start to back out back onto the road you hear Toby say “ Later YN.”

Driving off you can't keep the smile off of your face. Toby's a nice guy, you hope you get to spend more time with him. And this time the thought isn't centered around also hanging out with Connor. Just about enjoying Toby's company.

Getting home and locking your door you strip your jeans and flannel, leaving you only in your muscle tee, and curl up in your unkempt sheets. You'll do laundry later, right now was time for a little nap.

[softbiker]

Bucky Barnes Oneshot

Warnings: some language, excessive sun exposure, nudity (but no smut)

Word count: 5.4k (why am i like this)

A/N: This fic is very self-indulgent - it’s short on plot and long on summer vibes. Also, this is a reader insert fic, but I hate writing Y/N and using second person narration, so reader has been given an ‘Avenger alias’. Hope you like it. :) Basically, Bucky deserves this, and we deserve for summer to never end. <3 I hope you all enjoy it, and as always let me know what you think!!

P.S. here’s the playlist inspired by this fic

“Geronimo!”

Sam’s battle cry is the only warning before he takes the plunge; Bucky scrambles from his place on the boat deck, shielding his book with his towel and his hands in a last ditch effort to save the pages from water-logged ruin. He scowls as Sam resurfaces, breaching the water with a laugh and blinking to clear his eyes.

“Hey - watch it, bird brain.” Thankfully, his copy of Ender’s Game remains safe and dry, despite Sam’s carelessness. Wiggling his hips, Bucky scoots further back on his towel, away from the edge of the boat and hopefully out of the splash zone.

“You’re the one complaining about getting wet at the lake, Barnes,” Sam quips back, lazily swimming towards the ladder. “I’m not to blame here.”

“Doesn’t mean I want my book getting wet,” Bucky mutters. A bead of sweat slides down his neck - several beads actually; he can feel how flushed his face is in the dog day heat of a July afternoon. As he lays on his belly, pineapple printed beach towel spread underneath him; his sunglasses slowly slide down the bridge of his nose, his face too slick with sweat to hold them up properly.

“C’mon, guys,” Steve sighs. He couldn’t look less concerned if he tried - long limbs sprawled in the water, his star-spangled ass wedged firmly in a neon blue floatie, a can of beer in one hand. A pink patch of color has bloomed on his chest and spreads across his shoulders with each passing hour, despite regular reapplication of his sunscreen. “Can we not do this all weekend?”

“Mm, I’m with Steve,” a voice pipes up, languid and sleepy, from the sun deck along the top of the boat. “I don’t wanna listen to you two bickering for the next three days.”

Bucky’s mouth goes even dryer and his cheeks burn with a different kind of heat, tongue thick in his mouth at the sound of her voice. Embarrassment creeps up in him - why does he always let Sam’s ribbing get to him, damn it?

“Hey - he started it, Angel,” Sam holds up his hands in surrender, his own towel draped across damp shoulders. There’s a crystal droplet of water on the tip of his nose. “I’m just trying to have a good time.”

She peeks over the ledge from her coveted sunbathing spot, pushing her oversized sunglasses up on her head so she can fix him with a skeptical pout. Bucky rolls a couple inches sideways, leaning on one elbow to lift his gaze up to her. The sun blazes behind her, casting a vivid white corona of heat; the baby blue lurex of her bikini glitters against her skin, her limbs shining with coconut oil and sweat. She’s gathered her hair up on top of her head, but a few adorable baby hairs have escaped at the nape of her neck and her temples, curling sweetly in the humid, hazy air.

She’s only been with the team for a few months - new to the Avengers, and to superhero-ing in general. Operating alone for years, and cleverly flying under the radar, she’d found Tony Stark waiting for her in a refugee camp on the coast of Greece with a disturbingly complete dossier on her, as well as a job offer. Within moments of meeting her, the team dubbed her “Angel” - in slight awe at the way her glowing fingers healed Clint’s broken ones during their brief introductory handshake. From then on, she’s been their undisputed MVP, saving their accident-prone skins so many times they’ve already lost count.

“You know - that smells like bullshit, Sam.” The barest hint of a smirk tugs at her mouth, and even squinting in the sun her eyes are bright.

Sam sputters, playing at mock offense.

“Excuse me?” he says, a hand pressed to his heart.

“Just leave Bucky alone,” Angel rolls her eyes, letting her sunglasses drop back to shield her from the glare off the water. “And Steve? You might want to use a higher SPF, or you’ll need me to heal that later.”

Satisfied, she stretches back on her towel up on the sun deck, one arm long and lazy above her head, the other reaching for her phone - restarting one of her podcasts, Bucky thinks. Tiny wireless headphones tucked in her ears, she’s always listening to them; there’s a true crime one that she loves, but he can’t remember the name. Looking down at his chest, Steve seems to just notice the ripening sunburn on his skin. With a sigh, he flips himself out of the inner tube and into the water, swimming the short distance to the boat and pulling himself up the ladder in search of sunscreen.

Bucky ducks his head back down to his book. He tries to read, focus his eyes on the words in front of him - but, surprisingly, he’s almost too relaxed. He feels heavy, lazy, down to his bones; his eyelids droop and the words on the page run together. It’s not unpleasant, though - the heat has soaked right through his muscles, and for the first time in ages he finds that he’s not sore, not aching. Just a little tired, like a cat in the sun. Stretching and settling on his towel, he tucks his head in the nest of his folded arms and closes his eyes.

When Angel had proposed a lake weekend, inviting the team out to her family’s place in the woods, everyone had leapt at the idea. A few days spent in pure laziness, hours wiled away on the water or with a book, with no one to rescue and no battles to fight - it sounded too good to be true. Pure summer paradise.

Beneath him, the boat rocks dully on small waves. He feels himself lulled into a trance as his body sways gently in the same rhythm, back and forth. Paradise, Bucky thinks as he drifts off.

**********

That night, the sun lingering late in the sky, cicadas humming in the trees, the guys grill out on the deck at the cabin. It smells like heaven, fresh corn and burgers and mushrooms; inside the house, Wanda slices tomatoes and Angel stirs caramelized onions on the stove. At the island, Natasha patiently mashes avocados for her famous guacamole - made famous by the fact that it’s frequently her only contribution to family dinners.

“Wow, Nat, I think you actually got a tan,” Wanda smirks. “Right there, on your arm?”

“That’s just a freckle,” Nat scowls. “Which is why I use high SPF and don’t lay in the sun for hours.”

“Hey, at least you won’t get skin cancer,” Angel laughs, not looking up from her onions. Their smell wafts through the kitchen, mouth-watering and tangy sweet, mixed with the fresh and smoky air from the open window to the deck. Outside, the laughter around the grill bursts in a loud crescendo, Sam slapping Clint’s back as he doubles over in a fit of giggles.

“Sounds like they’re having fun out there.” Nat raises a sarcastic eyebrow as she glances out the window. Angel turns to look, too, her eyes pulled to the soft glow of the porch under the string lights overhead, the setting sun just beginning to burn red and gold through the trees.

Sliding off her barstool, Wanda skips over to the sliding screen door that leads out to the deck, pulling it open just enough to stick her head through.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, nearly shouting to be heard over the boys’ loud hoots of laughter. None of them answer, still caught in the flush of whatever hilarity had set them all going. Rolling her eyes, Wanda tries again. “Hey! Are we at least ready to eat? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid, we’re pulling ‘em off the grill right now,” Clint sighs, wiping his eyes. Even from her place by the stove, Angel notices Bucky’s bright open smile, so rarely seen it makes her do a double take. His color his high, his tanned cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink; his hair is still wet from the shower, combed back from his forehead in a way that’s almost boyish, the tips just beginning to dry in soft brown curls.

Swallowing thickly, Angel drags her eyes back down to the onions and turns the burner off.

They gather around the long picnic table on the deck, sliding and shuffling around each other, a veritable summer feast laid out in front of them. The boys at the grill didn’t disappoint: Sam proudly slides a platter of corn on the cob next to the kebabs he made, while Clint carries a tray piled high with fresh burgers (and turkey burgers, at Nat’s request). Toppings and sides come single file from the kitchen - fresh sliced tomatoes, crisp lettuce, fried plantains and guacamole. Bucky’s mouth waters with each new dish that arrives at the table, his knees jammed underneath the table next to Steve.

“This spot taken?”

Angel smiles as she slides into the seat across from him; she had washed her face when they got in from the lake, fresh and clean, and pulled an old college t-shirt over her swimsuit. The scent of her coconut lotion drifts across the table. Bucky clears his throat.

“N-no. Go ahead.” He wishes his smiles were half as warm as hers, half as easy and sweet.

Her nose scrunches as she beams a little wider at him and stretches her legs underneath the table, her ankle resting against his calf. The brush of their skin sets Bucky’s nerves on fire, and he keeps expecting her to move, to flinch away. But her leg stays where it is, resting against his, as they laugh and eat with their friends; and every so often when her eyes catch his he wonders if he’s imagining the spark in them.

**********

If it’s possible to get a concussion from tubing, Sam will have one by the end of the day.

Bucky’s head is already swimming and dizzy from being thrown from the inner tube half a dozen times, skipping across the surface of the lake like a stone - he’d always thought Steve was a wild driver on a bike, but in a boat, with two of his friends pulled behind and gripping the handles of a rubber tube? Steve is an absolute maniac.

Inside the boat, Angel leans against Steve’s seat and grips the railing to keep her balance, watching the boys behind them on their wild ride from hell.

“Are you sure you should be going this fast?” she speaks up, a little nervous. “Do you even have a boating license?”

“Don’t need one - I was born before the cutoff date, got grandfathered in,” Steve yells back over the engine and the rush of the waves underneath them. Glancing back and seeing Bucky and Sam still hanging on, he cuts the wheel sharply, the boat arcing through the water in a donut that sends them cutting over their own wake. From the boat, it’s a mild discomfort, the deck bouncing on each wave; from the tube, it’s game over.

She winces as it happens - the two of them go completely airborne on the tube, and with a final scream Sam loses his grip and tumbles sideways, knocking Bucky off into the water with him. Without their weight, the tube sways in the wind for a moment before it drops back to the water, upside down and empty.

“They’re down!” Wanda laughs, and Steve cuts the throttle down, idling slowly back to where the bright blue and green of life jackets bobs in the water a hundred feet away.

As they pull up alongside Sam and Bucky, Wanda drops the ladder and Angel makes her way to the back of the boat, pulling the rope to bring the tube back up to the boat.

“Oof,” Sam huffs as he hauls himself up the ladder, immediately unsnapping the buckles on his lifejacket. “I think I’m done - yeah. Yeah, I’m definitely done.” He shrugs the lifejacket off his shoulders and drops onto a seat at the front of the boat. “Hey, why don’t you get out there and let me drive, Steve?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Steve smiles innocently behind his sunglasses, his hair windblown and spiky. “I think I’m just getting the hang of driving this thing.”

“I think you need a little more practice, punk,” Bucky groans from the ladder. “But not with me back there. I thought Hydra scrambled my brains enough but-” he grabs a towel and scrubs the side of his head, trying to shake the water from his ears. “-you’ve got me mixed up like a fruit salad up here. Jesus.”

There’s always a downbeat, an awkward breath, when he makes jokes about Hydra. Steve winces a little, and Sam purses his lips; Wanda looks away, pushing her hair behind her ears. Bucky feels his cheeks flush, frustrated and embarrassed.

“It’s probably just early-onset Alzheimer’s,” Angel giggles, breaking the silence. “I mean, you’re pushing 102? 103?”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Bucky narrows his eyes at her.

“I don’t look a day over 30, you know,” he huffs, feigning offense as he hip checks her on his way to the cooler for a beer.

“Ok, boomer,” she sighs. She’s wearing a necklace today, a single cowrie shell nestled at her collarbone, and she’s changed out the blue bikini for a tie-dye one that makes him thinks of cotton candy. With his metal hand, he snaps the cap off his beer and takes a swig, raising a brow towards her in question. Angel shakes her head. “I’m good - but I’ll take a water.”

They pass around the bottles of water, and a couple of snacks; it’s only early afternoon, and they’re loathe to waste any of the beautiful day, all of them sprawled across the boat, sunning themselves liberally. Wanda wonders aloud what they should do, if everyone is done getting roughed up on the tube.

“Well, we could drive around to the waterfall - maybe go cliff jumping,” Angel suggests, wiping watermelon juice from her chin. The huge Tupperware bowl of fruit they brought has gone down swinging between her and Steve, Sam picking through to find the strawberries.

“There’s a waterfall?” Steve sits up, a slice of cantaloupe in his hand. Angel nods, picking a seed from her teeth.

“Yeah, it’s around that way - not too far from here,” she turns and points around a bend in the shoreline, towards the north end of the lake. “We could at least just take a drive over there - the breeze would be nice.”

They all agree on that - it’s a cloudless day, brilliant and sweltering without the slightest wind to stir up the air across the water. Sam swipes his brow, more damp with sweat now than water, and takes a swig of his beer.

“Let’s go, Angel.” He raises his bottle in salute. “Before we all die of heatstroke.”

It’s a small waterfall, just a stream coming down from the hills surrounding the lake, and running faster today because of the last week’s rain; but the cove is lush and blooming with trees overhead, humming with the lazy buzz of insects and busy calls of birds. Angel kills the engine near the entrance and lets Steve drop the anchor - the water here is clean and deep, and the cliff face rises stark and bright out of the water, the rocks stained with age.

“Oh, wow - it’s so pretty,” Wanda smiles, snapping a picture of the waterfall with her phone.

“And quiet,” Bucky observes. He can’t hear the sounds of other boats on the water, the cries of other swimmers on the lake.

“Yeah, nobody ever comes back here,” Angel shrugs. “It’s kind of a secret little place - my family are always the only people here.”

One by one, they peel off their shirts and tug their lifejackets on, diving into the sun-warmed water. Angel leads the way towards the waterfall, showing them all a small break in the rocks with a natural set of steps and handholds she found with her brothers, and they climb up the rocks bit by bit, happily exploring.

“You ever climb all the way up there?” Sam asks, pointing to the top of the waterfall, where an outcropping of the rock juts out over the water.

“Yeah, a couple of times,” she nods, looking up. “We used to jump from the top. I never liked it much - I’m a little scared of heights.”

“Race you Tin Man,” Sam punches Bucky’s arm, and without waiting for confirmation, takes a running head start at the cliff wall, jumping up to the first handhold he sees and working his way up bit by bit. Bucky scowls, but not one to ignore a challenge, he follows close behind, overtaking Sam in a matter of minutes as he scales the wall with just his hands.

Hauling himself up over the edge, he stands above the waterfall, looking out over the lake. It’s still only mid-afternoon, and the glare of the sun on the water is nearly blinding. Far away, tiny boats circle and weave across the surface, their paths leaving figure 8’s in the waves. Below, he hears Wanda and Steve and Angel talking, cheering Sam on as he climbs the last few feet to the top.

“I win,” Bucky smiles as Sam’s huffing and sweaty face appears over the edge of the rock.

“I hate you,” Sam pants, but he takes the hand Bucky offers and scrambles up to stand beside him.

“Hell of a view.”

Sam props an arm on Bucky’s shoulder, an endlessly annoying habit he has, but Bucky refrains from smacking his hand away. They stare out at the water as Sam catches his breath.

“Yeah, it is.”

**********

When they finally make their way back to the boat, the sun has crept along the horizon towards the late afternoon angle, and their arms and legs ache from climbing the cliff walls over and over. Wanda massages her shoulders, slicking her hair into a little wet bun on top of her head. Angel follows behind her, dropping her lifejacket on her seat and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

Last one up the ladder is Bucky, his arms heavy in the water, eyes stinging, but happily tired from a long day spent doing nothing important. He can’t remember the last time he got to do something like this - just be, just have fun, nothing hanging over his head and no thoughts of tomorrow. He pulls up the ladder after him, folding it onto the deck, and perches on the edge of a seat next to Angel, wondering where his towel has gone.

“Oh - oh, Bucky, you’re hurt,” Angel sits up and leans closer to him. He holds his breath, her face inches from his own - but her eyes are down on his hand.

His flesh hand, which is currently bleeding all over his bright blue swim trunks.

Shit. He hadn’t even noticed - hadn’t felt it at all, but he must have cut it on the climb. The cut runs cleanly through the pink flesh of his palm, welling blood that trickles down his wrist, mingling with the water that still clings to his skin. It triggers something, makes his brain stumble, the bright stain on his thigh - his shorts are probably ruined. He opens his mouth and starts to say something, but the sound sticks in his throat.

Smooth, soft fingers slide over his as Angel grabs his hand. Covering his palm with her own, she frowns down at the wound, as her hand starts to shimmer and glow. He feels the heat of her power soaking into his skin, brighter than the sunlight overhead. It starts to flow down his wrist, and he wants more of it - he wants to bask in it.

Too soon, though, it’s over. The cut wasn’t all that bad, and it only takes a moment to heal. But her hand lingers, palm brushing his, the tips of her fingers tracing his pulse on the delicate underside of his wrist, where the pale pink stain of blood lingers.

“Better?” she asks, looking up at him, long lashes shading her eyes. Tentatively, he allows his own fingers to trace her wrist.

“Yeah. Thank you,” he smiles.

“Any time.”

**********

That night, as the sun sinks down and the fireflies float lazily up from the warm ground, they gather around the fire pit in front of the house. Spread out in canvas lawn chairs, they toast their marshmallows on wire coat hangers, squishing them between graham crackers and chocolate squares. Steve is suspicious of the treat at first, unsure about the pairing and perpetually wary of sweets.

“Just try it,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “It’s the perfect treat, trust us.”

Skeptical, he sinks his perfect American teeth into the crackers, through the gooey marshmallow chocolate layer, the melted treat sticking to his lips as he pulls away. He chews thoughtfully, quietly, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb as he considers. The rest of the group awaits his verdict, nestled in their chairs with their own s’mores.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve agrees, shoving the rest of the dessert into his mouth. He licks his lips appreciatively. “You’ve got a point there.”

“You know, I think you would’ve had to give up being Captain America if you didn’t like them,” Clint smirks, one cheek stuffed full. “I mean, who doesn’t like s’mores?”

“Yeah, but is that technically an American thing?” Sam wonders, reaching for the package of graham crackers.

“Well I’ve never had them anywhere else,” Wanda counters. She’s nursing her second pineapple ale of the evening - a drink she discovered when they stopped into a grocery store for supplies, and insisted on buying 2 packs to bring to the cabin with them.

Bucky isn’t paying attention to the Great S’mores Debate, not even a little bit. He can hardly hear them talking; he stares across the fire, warm sparks drifting like the fireflies above, as Angel licks chocolate from her fingers. The bright pink tip of her tongue darts out against her fingertips, savoring what’s left of the treat; he finds that his own mouth is parched and dry, a curious kind of hunger growling low in his belly, despite having had his own fill of dinner and s’mores. As she slips her pinky finger into her mouth, her eyes catch his from the other side of the flames, the firelight dancing in her eyes as she holds his gaze. The corner of her mouth twitches up just slightly, and she winks.

She winks.

Then, as the conversation takes another twist towards some kind of dessert or another, she quietly slips from her chair and walks away unnoticed, picking her way down the familiar trail to the dock in the dark.

Bucky glances around the group, and gauging that their conversation should serve as enough of a distraction, mutters some kind of excuse about needing the bathroom before getting up to follow.

Seconds later, Natasha turns to look at them - Angel’s form just visible between the trees and Bucky trailing along behind. She smiles widely over her beer, before settling back into her chair with a sigh.

“Finally,” she huffs, taking a sip. “Took them long enough.”

“Oh my god, right?” Sam raises his hands in exasperation. “I thought I’d hit my 100th birthday before that dickhead made a move-”

**********

She’s sitting at the edge of the dock, past where the boats are moored for the night, one knee tucked up under her chin as her other leg dangles with her toe in the water. She must hear him coming, his footsteps intentional and loud to his own ears on the wooden planks, but she doesn’t turn around. The lake is soft and still, wearing moonlight like a a silk robe, rippling reflected light across the surface. Above them the sky is cloudless and star-filled, cooled to a rich deep blue after the blazing bright day.

“Sometimes I would come down here at night with my dad,” she says, when he stands right behind her, unsure if he’s allowed to sit, if he should ask. She tips her head up over her shoulder. “We’d fish a little - threw them all back, though.”

“You didn’t keep ‘em?” Bucky asks, settling down beside her on the dock, letting his legs hang over the edge.

“No,” she shakes her head, scrunching her nose. “I felt sorry for them. Didn’t wanna hurt them, you know?”

He just watches her, the soft line of her profile in starlight, a smile blooming in his heart.

“Always been an angel, huh.” He doesn’t mean to say it, at least not out loud, but once it’s out he finds himself glad.

She looks at him then, not answering, but searching out his gaze with her eyes - they flit between his own, pupils wide in the dark. He licks his lips, wonders what she’s looking for, what she sees.

“Have you ever been night-swimming?”

Her question comes out of the blue, catching him off guard. He blinks - her mischievous eyes never leave his face.

“Um. I-I don’t remember,” he fumbles. “I think so. Way back, during the war. Not so much for leisure though,” he smiles ruefully. “I just knew I smelled awful and didn’t wanna risk being caught with my pants down, literally, in broad day.”

It startles a laugh out of her, a loud one, and his pride swells, inflating in his chest. The smile stays fixed on his face as he looks back out at the lake.

“Wouldn’t mind sometime, though,” he hints. “It’s beautiful out there at night.”

“Let’s go then,” she grins, using her hands to push herself up to stand above him. He blinks up, dumb at the flash of her smile.

“But, well…” he falters. “I should run back up to the house, I don’t have my trunks-”

“So?” she interrupts with a careless shrug. There’s something in her smile, and he doesn’t quite understand what she means until she reaches for the hem of her t-shirt and-

Oh. Oh.

Easy as that, smooth as a wave, she peels her shirt over her head, tossing it to the side. Her soft cotton bralette comes next, unhooked and slid down her arms, dropped onto the pile with her shirt. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he swears, but he can’t bring himself to lower his gaze. She turns away with a little smile as she shimmies her shorts down, kicking them behind her to join the rest of her clothes, and he thinks he might combust if, oh god, there go her panties-

The cool splash of water as she jumps in jolts him back to himself, wakes him from the trance he fell into at the display of her body, her sweet summer skin, still smelling of coconut and watermelon. Her head bobs up a couple of yards past the dock, treading water.

“You coming or what?” she dares, feeling less bold now, but what the hell - she made her move.  The water has cooled since the sun went down, and a little shiver runs through her. Yes, she certainly made a move. She bites her lip and watches him, waiting, hoping.

When he stands, she holds her breath - will he leave? Will he turn her down? Will he still be her friend? Then he reaches a hand behind his back and tugs his shirt up over his head, throwing it down onto the dock next to hers.

He’s every bit as beautiful by moonlight as he is in broad day - she’s always thought so, but kept it to herself, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. Now though…she admires him, as she allowed him to admire her; watches closely every long line of his body revealed to her as he undresses, the golden tan he’s earned the last few days on the lake, the course hair covering his chest, the sliding shadows of muscle beneath his skin…

Before he can second guess himself, Bucky dives in and joins her, popping up out of the water just a few feet away and slicking his hair back from his face. She smiles, playfully backing away; he grins right back as he gives chase, following slow but determined.

“See? Fun, right?” Angel giggles, feeling her heart beat a wild rhythm and hoping he can’t hear it. Bucky chuckles back, not answering, swimming just a few inches closer. The outline of her body glows in the moonlight, though he tries not to stare beneath the water.

“You’ve definitely convinced me,” he agrees. They drift out a little further - still not too far from the dock or the shore, but their little game of cat and mouse leads them out several yards. “You bring all the boys out here? Is it gonna be Sam’s turn tomorrow?”

“Hm…I haven’t decided yet,” she muses, pretending to consider it. “I think I’d ask Steve first - unless you think he wouldn’t be game for it.”

“Trust me, I know Steve Rogers,” Bucky laughs. “He’d die of embarrassment.”

“You’re probably right,” Angel grins. “Then maybe it is Sam’s turn.”

“Aw, you’re breaking’ my heart, Angel,” Bucky pouts, giving her the full force of his baby blues, a look he only ever reserved for his mother. Angel doesn’t fall for it; instead, she rolls her eyes and splashes a handful of water right in his face.

“You’ll be fine,” she shrugs, but hides her smile by ducking her head half down, nearly concealed in the water.

“No, I won’t,” he insists. He’s barely a foot away from her now. “I’m wounded, Angel. Really. I’m real hurt - I need your help.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah - I may not survive. You gotta help me.”

“Well, I think that’s in my job description.” Her eyes are full of moonlight, her face inches from his own. “Where are you hurt?”

He grabs her hand and places her palm firmly over his heart.

“Right here, honey,” he whispers, silly grin firmly in place. “You hurt me real bad.”

On cue, her palm starts to glow, the light filtering up through the water in glittering ripples that flicker across their faces. Just over his heart, his skin warms at her touch, a surge of energy and light and life straight into him, deep and true.

“Anywhere else?” she asks, her own voice so soft, barely heard over the cicadas in the trees.

“Yeah…here.” Taking hold of her other hand, he draws her arms up around his shoulders. His smirk twitches. “Must’ve pulled something climbing those cliffs.”

“Uh huh, sure,” she rolls her eyes, but ignites her hands anyway, the healing warmth soaking into his sore muscles and the ever-tender skin surrounding his metal arm. Not one to complain, he never mentions the trouble it causes, constant weight on his shoulders and neck, often giving him tension headaches at the base of skull. But here she is, melting it all away with a touch.

Slowly, cautiously, he lets his hands slide around her waist, thumbs gently brushing her last rib. Beneath his palms he feels her breath stutter and catch, her heart picking up. Their feet accidentally kick one another as they attempt to keep treading water, and she lets him wrap one of her legs around his waist to keep from kicking her.

“Anything else?” she whispers. He traces her face with his eyes, unable to distinguish her own glow from that of the moon beaming down on them. With a slow nod, Bucky rests his forehead against hers, shares a breath.

“Here,” he says, and tilts his head the last couple of inches until his lips meet hers.

In an instant, he feels warm all over; though his eyes are closed, he can see the light behind them like sun through closed blinds. It nearly burns, hot and holy and aching sweet, and his toes curl with it. She breaks away for a moment, just to smile so blindingly, sunbeams breaking beneath her radiant skin - and dives back in, laughing into his mouth as he tightens his hold and her hands go to his hair.

Adrift in a summer-warm lake, under a swollen July moon, they kiss and laugh and touch and play.

Under a moon half as bright, they glow.

[curiosi-tea-writes]

Letters from Home (One Survivor pt. 2)

Pairing: Din Djarin  Cobb Vanth

Setting: Survivor AU / Modern AU (My previous fic of this AU can be found here.)

Warning: This is 3036 words of almost pure angst! Also, some cursing.

Summary: Din and Cobb are excited to go to a reward challenge together with Fennec and Boba until it’s reveled that part of the reward are letters from home. Then, Din asks Fennec to help him with a lie to Cobb that would advance one of them in the game while taking the other out of it. 

@i-dnt-know-either helped me a lot with the last bit of this fic and @intricatecakes is very likely to put me in angst jail for this. I refuse to be sorry.

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

“It wasn’t long after the merge. The final eight Survivors were split up into groups of four for a reward challenge, chosen by drawing colored rocks. Fennec, Boba, Din, and Cobb had ended up on the same team - Fennec and Boba rolling their eyes impossibly hard as the two younger men smiled brightly at each other.

“You’ve chosen your teams. Want to know what you’re playing for?” Jeff asked with a grin. When all the contestants nodded excitedly, he clapped his hands together. “By now, I know you would all like a nice break from the game. There are beautiful waterfalls just on the next island over. Winners of today’s challenge will take a boat over to see one of them.” There was ooh-ing and ah-ing amongst the Survivors. “And- because you’re all hungry, and I’m sure missing the states at this point- a BBQ. Hamburgers, hotdogs, chips, the whole deal.”

Din laughed as Cobb excitedly wrapped his arm around his shoulder and gently shook him. 

“And one final thing,” Jeff began again. He pulled a cloth off of the table revealing a stack of brown envelopes. “Letters from home.” 

Cobb stiffened quickly, his smile dropping. Din found it impossible to miss the look of near pity that Jeff threw to Cobb. He watched Cobb give a short nod in return as he pulled his arm off of Din’s shoulders. 

“You okay?” Din whispered, leaning close to him. “Letters from home, that sounds amazing! I’m sure everyone back home misses you a lot.”

Cobb cleared his throat and forced a smile, one that quickly turned genuine when he met Din’s eyes. “Yeah,” he choked out, “I’m sure you’re excited to hear from your son.”

“Kiddin’?” Din scoffed out, looking away. “I miss him like crazy. Meanwhile, I’m sure he’s having the time of his life with his aunt.”

“Nah,” Cobb shook his head. “He misses you. And I’m positive you got a letter in there from him tellin’ you as much. Which is why,” he nudged Din’s shoulder to make him look at him again, “we gotta win this one.”

Din had the brightest smile Cobb had ever seen him give as they lined up to begin the challenge. It filled Cobb with the sort of energy that he felt like he could run a marathon. Which was kind of what they had to do, run a marathon- in an oval- in the water- carrying 20 pounds of sand each.

"For reward:," Jeff called from his tower at the center of the oval, "a taste from home with a BBQ by a waterfall and letters from home. Survivors, ready!"

Din and Cobb shared a smile of good luck as they had during every pause before they started a challenge since the merge. It always gave Cobb a lot of hope.

"Go!"

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

"Cobb, Din, Fennec, and Boba win reward!" Jeff called as Fennec managed to tag a member of the other team.

Cobb cheered loudly in Din's ear as he threw his arms around his neck with a bounce. Din stumbled backwards with a laugh, wrapping his arms tightly around Cobb's waist. He buried his face in Cobb's neck, taking a deep and calming breath.

The promise of good food, a letter from his son, two of the best friends he had ever made, and the man who had somehow managed to win his heart. What could be a better afternoon?

The other half of the tribe was dismissed back to camp. The four friends boarded the small boat, Jeff following in behind them, stack of everyone's letters in hand. It was a quiet trip and Cobb was thankful for it. It gave him a chance to breathe and enjoy the feeling in his chest when Din slowly slid their hands together, interlocking their fingers. Cobb gave a soft squeeze which earned him a smile in return.

They were at the island far too quickly for either of their likings and everyone was leaving the boat.

"Before you go," Jeff said, separating the first few letters from the stack. "Letters from home, you can either share these with each other or keep them to yourselves." Fennec gave a small laugh of joy which made everyone chuckle. She was normally so serious.

"You'll notice, however," he continued, "there's only three letters here." He passed the stack of letters over to Boba who took them questioningly. Jeff turned to Cobb, the same look of pity on his face that he had before the challenge. "Cowboy, I'm sorry to say we didn't get a letter for you. I'm not sure if it just wasn't sent in on time or what happened, but I'm sorry."

Cobb nodded, straightening his shoulders. He tried to focus on Din's hand on his shoulder and not on Fennec and Boba's apologies towards him.

Jeff nodded and clapped his hands together. "You four enjoy your reward. See you at the next challenge!"

And then Jeff was gone and the four friends were left to walk the trail to the waterfall. Because it wasn't wide enough to walk even two across, Cobb let the three of them take the lead, choosing to stay a couple paces behind Din. He tried not to pay mind to the way Din glanced at him over his shoulder. He tried not to care that he had the same look of pity that Jeff had given him and, for the first time ever, Cobb wished he hadn't been voted back into the game. If he hadn't, he wouldn't have made it to this challenge and wouldn't have to be attempting to ignore looks and words of pity.

The sight of the waterfall was a welcomed one indeed. The four Survivors stopped and gazed at it, eyes wide, truly thrilled for the first time in so long.

Once sat around a small picnic bench, food laid out in front of them, Boba jumped right into strategy. The game never really stops. Cobb was the "outsider" of the tribe. All but Boba from the old Marseydotes tribe hated him because he got voted back in, while most of the old Noyapara tribe wasn't thrilled that he pulled Din into a separate alliance. Boba, Fennec, and Din all firmly believed Cobb could win the whole game and had decided right at the merge that they were going to make it happen. It was almost all Boba would talk about at this point.

Once the latest game plan was decided, the four of them fell into silence. Cobb knew that he didn't have it in him to keep them from the part of the reward they truly wanted to take part in. Everyone watched quietly as he stood and gave a small smile. "I'm gonna go up the trail a bit more, look around." He gave a small awkward wave up towards the waterfall. "You guys do your thing," he sighed, now gesturing at the stack of letters on the table.

Without meeting any of their eyes, he quickly walked away from the table and started up the path. He was happy that they all got their letters. But it still hurt.

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

Din found Cobb sitting on a rock at the top of the waterfall, fiddling with his scarf. He took the moment of being hidden from Cobb's sight to appreciate the way the sun hit his skin and the soft breeze pushed his hair to the wrong side.

He sighed softly and walked slowly to join him. He took a seat next to him and the rock and bumped his shoulder, which got him a chuckle.

"You didn't have to leave," Din commented quietly.

Cobb let out a shaky sigh. "I know. But you guys weren't going to open the letters unless I did."

"You know us too well." Din turned and looked up at Cobb who was only giving him a side glance. After a moment of silence, Din finally risked saying what was on his mind, "Jeff said it probably got lost in the mail or-"

"Nobody wrote to me," Cobb interrupted, taking his eyes off Din and putting them back on the scenery. He heard Din sigh beside him and could almost feel the questions that were surely running through his mind. Cobb took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I didn't have anyone to write me anything."

Din watched as Cobb's fingers tightened around his scarf the way he did when he was nervous at tribal council. He slowly raised his hand and brushed his fingers lightly along Cobb's. He smiled when Cobb quickly let go of his scarf in favor of Din's hand.

Cobb knew he could let it go. Din wasn't going to push him for any more answers than he was willing to give. He could leave it at that and they could get on with the game and Din didn't need to know. But it was Din. He was the most understanding person Cobb had ever met. If he couldn't tell Din the full truth, who could he tell?

With another deep breath, Cobb continued, and Din listened carefully, his thumb running along the side of Cobb's hand softly. "My parents aren't around anymore. They died a few years ago. I was an only child so it’s not like I had any siblings to write to me. The only real friends I have are at work and I lied to be able to get time off to come here so I couldn't tell any of them where I was going."

"So nobody knows you're out here?"

"Nobody but the show crew and the 15 other players," Cobb mumbled with a nod. He finally opened his eyes and turned to look at Din, expecting to see the pity. But instead all he saw was love.

Din tilted his head a little. "Why the confused look?"

"You-" Cobb stopped and shifted how he was sitting, facing Din more straight on. "You get it," he stated simply, knowing Din would understand.

And he did. Din nodded with a soft smile. "My parents died when I was a kid. Grogu is the only family I've ever truly known."

Cobb gave Din's hand a small squeeze and smiled, admiring the way Din's eyes always lit up when he talked about his son. "Did he write to you?"

Din grinned and nodded. "Yeah, Peli helped a lot, he's just learning to write. He drew some pictures too which were cute." Din's smile drooped a little and he looked away back over the waterfall as he realized he could have just answered Cobb with a "yes" and it would've been preferable. He couldn't imagine Cobb really wanted to hear Din go on about his son's letter right then.

"Could I see it?" Cobb asked, nudging his shoulder with a smile.

Din snapped his gaze back to Cobb, surprised. When he saw the soft look Cobb was giving him, he breathed a sigh of relief knowing he hadn't said the wrong thing. He nodded and pulled the folded up papers from his back pocket. He unfolded them carefully and passed them over to Cobb who took them and scooted closer to Din.

Their legs were pressed together as Cobb opened the papers. Din wrapped his arms around Cobb's middle and rested his chin on his shoulder, allowing him to look again at the letter.

The letter was written in green crayon which made Cobb chuckle, remembering Din mentioning Grogu's obsession with green. It was shaky handwriting but surprisingly readable. On the second page were small doodles of Grogu and Din and a few of Din on the island.

Cobb smiled and he refolded the papers and handed them back to Din. "He seems like a really sweet kid," he spoke softly. He turned his head just enough to place a small kiss to Din's cheek. His smile widened when Din turned and nuzzled his nose into Cobb's neck.

"He's going to love you," Din replied, voice muffled against Cobb's scarf.

Cobb froze for a moment, wondering if he had heard him right. They had never talked about what would happen after the game was over.

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

That night, Din and Cobb laid together in the shelter. They had spent every night since the merge cuddled close to each other and this night was no different. Cobb had his chest resting on Din's chest, listening to his heartbeat. He was sure that Din was asleep already, as most of the players were, but Cobb was wide awake thinking of Din and the game.

Would they still be together when the game ended? Were they together even now? Pairs can make it to the final two, but lovers can only go so far in this game before they have to decide if a potential relationship is worth a million dollars. But Cobb also knew that neither of them were in it for the money. Cobb just wanted an adventure and Din just wanted to make his son happy. Cobb supposed that was going to be something they would have to talk about sooner or later.

For now, he supposed, he could just be content knowing that he was in Din's arms and cared for in the moment.

But what Cobb didn't know was that Din was also awake, and thinking of Cobb, but not the game.

He was picturing loading Grogu into the car for a road trip to go see Cobb once the game was over. He was sure that Grogu was going to love him and not because Grogu loves everyone. Cobb was funny and smart and Grogu was going to adore that. He knew his son would hear him talk and ask him if he's a cowboy which will likely make Cobb laugh. Cobb would probably say yes just to amuse him.

He knew they hadn't talked about what would happen after the game. But he knew that he cared for Cobb so much that there was no way he was letting this relationship be just during the game, even if it meant not winning. He didn't really care about the money anyways, but he knew Cobb did, even though he wouldn't admit it even to himself. Din saw the way he talked about wanting to open up a photography studio and he knew the money would help him with that.

In the cold air of the night on a nearly deserted island, his arm tightly wrapped around Cobb while the other man traced soft patterns on his shoulder, Din made his decision on two accounts. He wasn't letting Cobb go so easily. And he would take the fall if it meant Cobb had a chance of winning this game.

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

Four tribal councils later, they were down to the final four. Boba had won immunity and, as a group, they had decided they would tie the vote between Cobb and Din. Or, that's what was discussed in the open. Before the day was over, Din pulled Fennec aside and told her what was really going to happen.

"So you're screwing me," Fennec nearly yelled. She was furious. "I don't have a chance in Hell if you quit."

"I'm not quitting, Fennec! Don't you think I've thought this through?" Din ran a hand through his hair and sighed when Fennec didn't answer.

"They're gonna kill me when we get back to camp," she whispered. "I'm the next one to go."

"No, I'm a sympathy vote. Tell them that, it’s the truth. You three have pissed off a lot of people these last few weeks. A teacher who's a single dad with a young kid sounds like a better winner of a million dollars, if you ask me." Fennec stayed silent. "Hey," Din whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "If we tie, and we draw rocks, there's a chance it’s you going home tonight too. This way, you have a third of a chance of winning rather than a third of a chance of going home."

She scoffed. "I still have a third of a chance of going home."

"Then win immunity." He sighed deeply. "Look, you’re my friend, and me and Cobb, we’re- well, I’m not exactly sure what we are. If you win, if Cobb wins- I'll be happy. I just want to see people I feel deserve to be up there winning the prize."

“If we make it to the final two, you’d have to choose between me and him,” Fennec pointed out.

Din sighed. “I know, and it will be the hardest decision I’ve ever made.”

She pulled him into a tight hug. “You’re gonna vote for him,” she whispered.

“Fennec let’s just-”

“Din.” She pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “If you end up on the jury and he doesn’t. Regardless of who is sitting next to him, you are going to vote for him, do you understand?” 

Din could just nod and give her another hug before they broke apart and headed back for camp. They had to prepare for tribal council. 

That night, Cobb and Boba voted for Din, Din voted for Cobb, like they had planned. And-

"Eleventh person voted out, and the sixth member of our jury: Din. That's three, that's enough, you need to bring me your torch."

Din grabbed his bag and shook Boba's hand. He kissed Fennec on the cheek and finally turned to Cobb who stood. The betrayal was written clear on his face and it broke Din's heart. He was expecting a cold shoulder and was surprised to tears when Cobb threw his arms around him.

"I love you," Din whispered in his ear before pulling away quickly and grabbing his touch before Cobb had the chance to reply or even process what he’d said.

"Din," Jeff said sadly. "The tribe has spoken." Din watched his torch be snuffed and nodded. "Time for you to go."

Din turned and waved. His heart broke impossibly more when he saw Cobb wipe his eyes with his scarf. Din blew him a kiss and his eyes watered as Cobb blew one back.

He turned and walked down the steps. At least he would get to see him in the next evening where, for as much as he liked Boba, he hoped Cobb or Fennec would be the one wearing the immunity necklace.

[everyothermouse]

Made some designs for my old superhero au for funsies, enjoy

I am going to take this as an excuse to talk abt this au, some backstories and design details under the cut :)

Tw: suicide attempt (peters backstory) and abuse (hash’s backstory)

Also, i gotta warn you that the backstory descriptions get longer as we go on, as the longer i write for, the worse i get at being concise. My apologies!

Peter

Power(s): control over the shadow realm

Power triggers: fear, depression, sadness, anger, focus

Relationships: hash (daughter/apprentice), genny (ally), ms. Garner (friend/ex nemesis), gabby (ally), prince (assistant/nemesis) princess (nemesis?)

Backstory: Tried to die in a vat of Poisonous Liquidtm but due to the nature of the experiments Done by damian at Unnamed Lab Owned By Damiantm, instead of dying his misery manifested through shadow powers. He was a shadow for a bit before he was able to start being a person again, and he was so upset about being alive that he decided he needed to consume the entire city in shadow so everyone else would have to be miserable like he was. He would be repeatedly thwarted by a superhero in the city named flower girl, who would eventually (over the course of like 3 years) forcibly found family him. He now has a job and uses his powers for good, and has recently taken up a superhero apprentice :)

Design notes: the heart clasps on peters cape and arms were originally by Ms. Garner before she retired as a superhero. They are tools used to help focus magic, making it easier to stay centered and to direct magical forces. The heart in the middle changes color based on the magic surrounding it/running through it, for peter it is black, but for Ms. Garner it was red/pink. Peters crown is made of the same material, but is not quite as strong. Peter mainly focuses his magic outwards using his palms and the soles of his feet, thus why they are uncovered. Villain peter looks a lot less alive than current peter partially because of being magically exhausted, but mostly just because he is in very bad physical health, having dipped himself in a vat of poison and proceeding to get 0 medical help, and then also not eating or bathing and living on shadow magic and depression. The boots previously used for villain-ing are now his work boots :)

Genny

Power(s): super strength

Power triggers: N/A

Relationships: nut (son), mellisa (friend), gabby (ally), Ms. Garner (friend?), hash (ally), peter (ally), damian (enemy)

Backstory: genny was a single mother and teacher living a normal life when she was caught in a catastrophic event as the city’s super villain the week was wreaking havoc in the middle of town. When a car came flying at her child, she had no choice but to rush forward and try to get him out of the way. Usually this would have ended in disaster, but thanks to a mix mothers hysterical strength and the strong magic energy radiating out of one of the destroyed buildings (it was U.L.O.B.D., because its always fucking damian isnt it) she was suddenly imbued with the strength to block the car and escape. Soon she would realize that this effect wouldn’t go away, and thus she decided to try and use this ability to help protect the city from all the dangers which threaten its safety.

Design notes: the knife on her leg is attached with a very strong magnet, it is difficult for others to remove but easy for her to thanks to her strength. Her body armor is all much stronger than the other three’s, as having armour that is lightweight isn’t a priority for her in the same way it is for the others, due to her strength. Genny doesnt actually have that much more muscle mass than a normal reasonably fit person, as her super strength is not connected to this. She wears contact lenses in her daily life, but after the event in which she got her super powers her eyes are entirely white (nut’s eyes are also lightened, but not to the same extent as genny’s, you can actually see them from more than 2 inches away.)

Hash

Power(s): control over earth/rocks

Power triggers: fear, excitement, focus

Relationships: Peter (parent/mentor), genny (ally), gabby (friend), prince (annoyance),

Backstory: Hash has had the ability to move the earth since she was born, but her parents always shunned her for it, saying it was destructive and evil, and so was she. She was forced to repress her powers and was often neglected (and occasionally hurt) by her parents, as well as frequently being forced to socially isolate herself from peers and teachers due to her being “too dangerous.” She tried to run away from home, feeling as though she was a danger to her parents, but when she was caught she freaked and accidentally used her powers towards her parents out of fear. Her parents called the police, making her more afraid and causing her to become more destructive. After a couple days of chaos and no one being able to defeat her, she would eventually be talked down by [whatever tf peters superhero name is], a superhero in the city who had previously been a villain but was changed through kindness and love and what not. It took a while after that to convince her that she wasn’t some horrible monster, and to get her a way from her previous household for good, but now shes a lot happier and has moved in with peter. She’s also started practicing using her powers, although its pretty hard for her given she spent all the time that her powers were developing not using them, and thus doesn’t know how to control them at their new level. She likes to tag along and try to help out on superhero missions, but honestly her main focus right now is trying to make friends and become accustomed to normal daily living, which is difficult when you’re constantly afraid of everything and have no idea how to talk to people.

Design notes: her small cape/cloak is an old one of peter’s. She hand painted on the rock pattern and the green inside, and its not perfect but she likes it. Just like normal hash, she cut the sleeves off of all her shirts, even the ones that weren’t damaged, back when she was at her old household. After moving in with peter though, shes started wearing more long sleeved shirts :) . Hash may lift rocks from the ground and stick them to her body as impromptu armour when shes distressed, although she usually doesn’t purposefully do this as its not actually very good armour, its just annoying.

Gabby

Power(s): fire manipulation, lizard stuff

Power triggers: lizard: N/A Fire: focus, anger

Relationships: peter (ally), hash (friend/ex-rival), Dario (nemesis/enemy/rival), Akira (friend/ex-rival), genny (ally), Ms. Garner (mom/mentor), Mrs. Harvey (ally/girlscout troup leader), the other Mrs. Harvey (Girl Scout troup leader/ally)

Backstory: ever since she could walk gabby was convinced she had the ability to control fire, But none of the other kids at her orphanage ever believed her, and neither did anyone at her school. One day though these powers were put to the test, when the orphanage took fire and she rushed in to help the local super hero evacuate the other kids while the fire fighters were still on their way. It was at that moment she decided that she could be a superhero too, and that the poor superhero present at the time, flower girl, would be her mentor. She followed her everywhere being the annoying curious child she was, but all flower girl wanted was her to stay out of danger and go home to her parents (which she would eventually realize gabby didn’t have.) But when gabby proved her worth and saved flower girls life, flower girl finally caved and decided to start training her, as long as she promised to try to be more cautious, and to stop skipping school to follow on dangerous missions. From then on they were an amazing super duo! Together they fought villains and used the power of kindness and pretty flowers to brighten peoples day :) and after a while ms. Garner would even end up adopting gabby, yay!

Eventually gabby’s lizard features started growing in, which was pretty scary. But her mom showed her that they weren’t all that bad, and gabby realized she could use them to help out on super hero missions! Peter, who was flower girls nemesis, would move in with her and her momma temporarily while he was getting better, as he was very sick while he was a super villain. She decided to adopt him as her new second parent, which he never agreed to, but I mean hes never denied it so its basically true. Several villains and other hero’s have also been added (and removed) from gabby’s growing list of parents. After her mom got hurt really badly in the hash incident, she decided to retire from being a superhero, deciding that she needed to put more focus on her safety so she could take care of gabby. Gabby has continued fighting crime, now taking up a more independent role as a superhero because she’s a preteen and thinks shes mature, but she usually works alongside other superhero’s in teams or as partners, as her mom requires she have adequate supervision (bcus shes LAME.) She still gets somewhat serious treatment from other superhero’s given that she technically does have more years of experience in the field than like half the cities heroes and she has had a major role in taking down multiple big villains, but she’s still a child and is generally not to be trusted on her own, as she is minority stupid and majorly reckless.

I’m sorry that was so long,,,,,, it could’ve easily been 1 paragraph but i have failed 😔

Design notes: gabby isnt wearing shoes under the legwarmers in hercivilian design, she likes the good grip her feet give her. Sidekick gabby’s stick can make fire just like her current one can, but it does not have the other functionalities. Her stick is not just for magic stuff, she also wacks people with it, and knocks them off their feet and stuff, its quite sturdy. The thick line on her face is just face paint for funsies and to make her a little bit less recognizable (only barely tho.)

[hookedonapirate]

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.  

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd​ for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld​ as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

There was originally supposed to be more to this chapter but it ended up being really long so I split it up into two chapters. Hope you enjoy!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 5

Emma surveys the crowded sanctuary, feeling out of the loop and out of place as she is escorted down the aisle by a young usher. It’s been so long since she’s seen family in this capacity, she feels like an outsider. Being distant is her modus operandi. And being a surgeon makes it far too easy for her to use work as an excuse, because then she doesn’t have to socialize or express her feelings or discuss uneasy topics, such as a social life she doesn’t have. Talking about Graham used to be her social lubricant. When she talked about him, it took the focus off her, which she usually prefers, because she hates being in the spotlight; she hates having to talk about herself. While she is always in the literal spotlight of the operating room, she’s able to tune out that fact by focusing on her patients and the procedures. One of the many perks of being a doctor is that her job is to focus on her patients, and she’s good at that. The hospital is her comfort zone because nothing she does there is about her—it’s about her patients; it’s about helping them get better. 

  But that feeling of uneasiness had crept up inside her the instant she had entered the church with her adoptive mother. Ingrid had insisted Emma ride with her to the church since Emma's house was on the way. She was reluctant at first because she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape the reception early this way. Or if she ended up getting called into the hospital, she’d have to ask someone to leave and take her. But she also knew she couldn’t say no because it might hurt her adoptive mother’s feelings. 

  After Ingrid assured Emma she could use her vehicle if she got called in and that she would be able to hitch a ride home from Elsa, Emma couldn’t really think of any other excuses that wouldn’t make her intentions transparent. Besides, riding to the wedding with Ingrid gave them the opportunity to catch up. But it also gave Ingrid the opportunity to ask Emma how she was doing since her colleague had passed. And suddenly, what was once a social lubricant became an encumberment. It made Emma sad and teary-eyed and not want to be around people. Suddenly, talking about herself didn’t seem so bad after all.

  They found Anna in her dressing room, which was pervaded with many laughs, a few tears and a bride who had worked herself into a frenzy of emotions. Nevertheless, Anna and Elsa expressed their deepest condolences for Graham and made a fuss over her and how she is dealing with his death. It’s a painful topic, but knowing the attention aimed at her would be short-lived, given that it's Anna and Kristoff's wedding day, gave Emma a bit of comfort. She'd returned to the sanctuary without Ingrid since her adoptive mother will be the one giving Anna away. After Anna and Elsa’s parents died, Ingrid raised them by herself. The younger sister was only eight at the time and lived under Ingrid’s roof before leaving for college. So Anna saw fit to be given away by the woman who had been more like her mother and father for ten years, rather than her aunt.

  As Emma nears the front row of the sanctuary, her smile falters when her eyes stumble upon him. That damn detective, David Nolan.

  When their eyes connect, she suddenly wants to disappear into a cloud of smoke or run away. 

  What the hell is he doing here? 

  Oh right, he was Elsa's late husband's best friend and work partner. Thankfully, when he interviewed her about Graham’s murder, he had skipped the pleasantries and had plunged right into the questions. He had seemed to be all business, which she appreciated, she really did. In fact, he reminded her of... well, herself. Very polite, but at the same time asking unpleasant questions. He was only trying to do his job, even if that meant making others feel exposed. Like homicide cases, surgeries are sometimes a lengthy, unpleasant process, but they’re an essential part of the job. So she understands David’s persistence and his need to get down to the nitty-gritty. But to make her a suspect for murder is preposterous! No, they had never met before Graham's murder, but David knew her family, and for him to point his finger at her, for him to think she could collaborate with a murderer left an unsavory taste in her mouth. She supposes his job requires him to separate personal feelings from work-related agendas—her job requires the same—but still, what he has on her is flimsy and pretty damn pathetic. 

  Emma drops down in the front pew with a humph. Normally she'd be opposed to sitting in the front, but since Ingrid will be seated next to her after she walks Anna down the aisle, and since Emma's not forced to look at the back of David's head like she would be if she sat in the back, she’s glad to sit in front.

  After Kristoff’s parents are seated on the groom’s side of the sanctuary, Kristoff, the groomsmen and the ushers make their way to the front. Next comes the bridesmaids. Emma looks over to see Elsa, the maid of honor, walking down the aisle in her plum-colored gown, holding a matching bouquet and a big smile, her long, silver-blonde hair French braided in the back. Elsa takes her place next to a bridesmaid as her daughter trails after her, scattering purple rose petals along the bridal path. Emma smiles at Camila, who’s brown curls bounce around her shoulders as she walks. Her miniature ball gown makes her look like a princess as she makes her way toward her mother. When she reaches her, Elsa kisses her daughter’s forehead and prompts her to sit by her Aunt Emma.

  The bridal procession song begins, and everyone stands for the bride’s grand entrance as she’s escorted by Ingrid, who has a proud smile on her face. Anna proceeds down the aisle in an elegant, off the shoulder gown with a wide neckline as she flashes a big grin, showing off her pearly white teeth. She looks every bit the blushing bride. 

  Emma still feels guilty for not attending Elsa’s wedding, even though it was several years ago. Or Liam’s funeral, even though her husband died three years ago. Actually, his death made her feel even more guilty. And she wishes she would’ve known him more, but alas, she had strayed away from family gatherings. She’s a terrible cousin. She’s always had trouble connecting with people, probably because when she was a kid, she never stayed anywhere long enough to connect with anyone. That is until Ingrid adopted her. 

  It took Emma a long time to fully feel accepted by Ingrid—to know she wouldn’t be sent off to another foster home. But Ingrid was a very kind and caring mother to her. Even so, Emma failed to develop the social skills her cousins had, even when they moved in with her and Ingrid three years later. Elsa is a little shier than her sister but still less so than Emma. The sisters had done their best to include her in activities and outings, and even though Emma had a close bond with Ingrid, she always felt like an outsider of the group. And the gap between her and the sisters gradually widened over the years.

  After the conclusion of the ceremony, the front row is dismissed, and as Emma and Ingrid head down the aisle, she sees David once again, those familiar unpleasant feelings returning. Being the polite gentleman he is, David nods courteously at her, but she only scowls in return. 

  “Everything okay, Emma?” Ingrid asks, sensing how tense she is. Probably from the way Emma's jaw twitches as she glares at the detective. 

  Emma nods. “Yeah, I just recognize Mr. Nolan as the detective assigned to the case of Graham's murder. He questioned me and my other colleagues who were at the Rabbit Hole that night.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, he's a good man. He and Liam worked together at the SBPD.”

  “Yeah, that's what I've heard.”

  “Speaking of Liam, I wonder if his brother is here,” Ingrid says, scanning the pews for him.

  Emma averts her eyes from David, trying to rid the negative thoughts of the detective and the case and that creep, Neal Gold. She had thought about calling the police after the phone call Neal made. But she couldn’t get over the fact that David actually thought she, Elsa and Anna’s cousin and a doctor for Christ’s sake, could possibly be capable of murder, even if he didn’t think she had been the one wielding the knife. 

  She knew she should've driven her own car in case she felt the need to escape. Hopefully, David won't stoop so low to question her at her cousin's wedding.

  “Oh, there he is,” Ingrid says, pulling Emma from her thoughts. 

  She looks over to see who Ingrid is waving to. And she guesses the man whose eyes light up as he looks their way and shoots up his hand in the center of the back pew, is him.

  Emma loses a breath as she catches a glimpse of him, then quickly looks ahead and keeps moving. Two words come to mind as she makes her way to Ingrid's car.

  Fucking gorgeous.

  If only she had her phone in her hand when she saw him, because pulling it out of her clutch purse and stopping to point her phone at him would've been too obvious. It would've been just as bad as snapping a photo of him without knowing the flash was on. Like when Elsa had snapped a photo of Liam the night they met. Emma wasn't there, but she's heard the story several times over the years to know she doesn’t want to be caught in that type of situation.

   ~*~

  Killian thought she was lovely when he saw her on the video footage of the interrogation room with its dim, unpleasant lighting, but bloody hell, she's much more gorgeous in person. He had shown up to the ceremony as late as he could possibly get away with and sat in the back to avoid attracting too much attention from the people who knew him—at least until Emma and Ingrid had left and headed for the country club.  

  He could only see the back of her head during the ceremony, but he’d seen enough to know she’s wearing a short, royal blue mermaid style dress that’s sleeveless and shows off her soft curves and bronzed shoulders and arms. Her hair is parted to the left and swept loosely into a swirl bun embellished with a blue flower, and her skin looks tanned, a contrast to the pale, creamy complexion on the video; she must've used a tanning bed or sunbathed on the beach. But he couldn’t get a good enough look to figure out which tanning method she’d used. 

  He'd been jealous of the usher who had the pleasure of escorting her down the aisle—had the pleasure of being so close to her, the young lad could probably smell whatever perfume she was wearing. Then Killian had chastised himself for having those thoughts. Emma's a subject of an investigation, regardless of whether or not he thinks she did anything wrong, and he has to think of her as such. He's not allowed to be jealous of ushers or anyone else who comes in contact with her. He has to admit he was very pleased she didn’t show up to the wedding with a date though.

  When he arrives at the country club, he parks his truck and grabs the gift he got for Anna and Kristoff. He carries it in with him and leaves it on the table draped with white cloth. He signs the guest book and sees Emma Swan and Ingrid Swan's names above his. He hadn't expected Emma to ride with her adoptive mother. At first he worried it would interfere with his plans, but actually, if he plays his cards right, Emma not having a car to escape early in and unexpectedly might be to his advantage. 

  Killian sits with the Nolans, just as he would if he weren't helping David with the case. They don't dare breathe a word about work; they share some laughs and after the bridal party makes their entrance, the tables are dismissed one by one and Killian helps his nephews fill their plates with food from the buffet. He tries not to stare at Emma, but he can't help himself. Every now and then he steals a peek as she sits at a table across the room, conversing with Ingrid and other guests. She’s not facing him, but he has an excellent view of her toned, sexy legs, one crossed over the other. 

  The normal traditions are carried out through the reception—the speeches and toasts, the bride and groom’s first dance as husband and wife and the cake cutting, where Anna and Kristoff smash a piece in each other's face. While Killian chuckles along with the audience, he takes a sip of his water, nonchalantly glancing over at Emma once more. He can’t hear her laughing, but he can see her showing off those pearly white teeth, her cheeks swollen as she watches the scene unfold at the three-tiered cake. 

  After Emma finishes a slice, she grabs her glass of clear liquid and makes her way through the room, chatting with people he doesn't recognize, and that's when he decides to make his move.

  He drains the rest of his water in one gulp before setting down his glass and rising from the empty table. 

  David had brought the boys each a slice of cake to keep them occupied while Killian planned his escape. And it worked like a charm. It didn't take long for Liam's hands to get covered in cake and frosting so Mary Margaret took him and his brother to the ladies' room to clean up. David is now off chatting with Anna, Kristoff and Elsa, keeping them distracted while Killian makes his way across the room. He sticks to the fringes of the crowd on the side opposite of the head table, lest someone from the bridal party wave him over, call out for him or approach him. 

  Killian hears the tail end of a conversation Emma is having with a couple before she backs away from them. He casually darts into her path as she's turning around and they crash into each other, her drink splashing over the front of her dress.

  “Bloody hell, lass, I'm so sorry.” 

  She peers down at herself assessing the damage. When she looks up at him, at first she is stunned, as though he'd literally knocked the wind out of her. He’s pretty certain he has the same awestruck expression on his face because she’s even more beautiful up close. Her emerald green eyes sparkle under dark, elongated lashes that are framed by black eyeliner, and her lips are coated with shiny, rose pink lip gloss. And she smells incredible, like floral, citrus and cinnamon; all of his senses are tingling from her scent. 

  The only difference between their reactions is she recovers quickly and he can’t quite seem to. 

  “You got me all wet,” she mutters, her lovely facial features forming a scowl. 

  Killian flashes his flirtiest grin. “If I had a penny for every time a woman has said that to me…”

  Just when he thought she couldn't glare at him any harder, she does. She glares at him so hard, he thinks she might burn a hole through his head.

  “Here, let me get you another drink,” he says, taking the glass from her hand. When his fingers brush hers, his breath snags in his throat. 

  After recovering from that and the way his heart skips a beat, he raises his hand to signal a waitress who gives Emma a napkin and takes the glass away. 

  “What were you drinking, love?”

  “Ice water, thank God,” she grumbles. “This dress is brand new.”

  As she scrubs at the wet spot on her dress, he can’t help but notice the pale tan lines on her skin in the shape of a bikini top. The kind that ties around the back of the neck. And her tan looks too perfect and even to have been caused by the limited angle of the sun. He had envisioned Emma in only a bikini bottom while laying in a tanning bed, but he has to admit, the tan lines look pretty damn good on her. Now he’s wondering what the rest of her looks like.

  Stop thinking of her like that, you wanker! he chides himself.

  He clears his throat… and his thoughts. “Would you like something else, love?”

  When she looks up again, she's still glaring at him. “No, just water. And I’m not your love.”

  Killian arches a brow. “There's an open bar and a devilishly handsome gentleman offering to buy you a drink and that's what you choose?”

  He's expecting her to laugh or even crack a smile like most women do when he comments on his own looks, but instead, she rolls her eyes. “I'm on call tonight. I don't even have a champagne toast when I'm on call.”

  “A tall glass of water on the rocks it is then.” He'd been drinking water too, but for different reasons. 

  They walk to the bar together and he orders ice water for her and a rum for himself. As the bartender pours their drinks, Killian turns toward Emma, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. “So you're on call? What kind of work do you do?”

  “I'm a doctor,” she answers simply as she crosses her arms and looks away like she's searching for the exit doors.

  “Really? What kind of doctor?”

  She reverts her gaze to his. “Medical.”

  Killian shakes his head and snaps his fingers, disappointment clouding his features. “That's just my rotten luck.”

  She arches a brow. “Oh? And why's that?”

  “Because I'm as healthy as a horse.”

  Killian can actually see the walls erecting around her like a fortress guarding a territory in warfare. He scratches behind his ear, thinking this might be more difficult than he thought. He only met her a couple of minutes ago but he can already tell she's a tough nut to crack. Which is fine. He loves a challenge.

  When the bartender slides their drinks toward him, he grabs both glasses and hands Emma her water. 

  “Thanks.” She takes the proffered drink with a slight smile and he clinks his glass against hers.

  “My pleasure,” he flashes a cheeky grin and imbibes his rum.

  “Enjoy the rest of your evening.” As she brings the glass to her lips to take a sip, she turns and walks away so other guests can get to the bar. 

  He pretends not to recognize a brush-off when he receives one; he tries not to let it sting, but it kind of does. He quickly shakes it off and falls into step beside her. “Do you specialize?”

  She sighs, most likely realizing she won't be able to get rid of him so easily. “I'm a general surgeon.”

  He throws on his most charming smile. “Well, I have to say, I haven’t met a lot of surgeons—like I said, healthy as a horse—but you are the prettiest surgeon I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’m surprised the bride hasn’t kicked you out by now.”

  She looks offended. “Kick me out? For what?”

  “For being prettier than her.”

  Emma’s cheeks turn as red as a tomato. And is that a hint of a smile he can detect? No, it can’t be. “You’re the cockiest, most self-assured man I’ve ever met. And believe me, I’ve met some doozies.” Oh, her smile is authentic all right.

  He shrugs in disagreement. “I prefer dashing rapscallion.” He sticks out his hand. “Killian Jones. I’m the maid of honor’s—”

  “Brother-in-law. I know.” She stares at his extended hand, leaving it hanging in the air, and he doubts she’ll shake it… until she finally does, clasping it firmly. Her skin is cold from the drink she was gripping tightly with both hands, but her skin is soft and he doesn’t want to let her hand go. But she releases his grip after a few seconds, leaving the ghost of her touch on his palm.

  He steps into her space, his eyes scrolling down her body and up again before locking eyes with hers and tilting his head to the side, his voice low and husky as he speaks. “So you know who I am, and here you haven’t even told me your name, love.”

  She scowls. “I told you not to call me that.”

  “My apologies,” he says sincerely. “What should I call you, then?”

  “Emma.” 

  His eyes light up with recognition, even though he already knows who she is. She doesn’t know that though. “Emma Swan?”

  She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “That’s correct. So, you’ve heard of me, too?”

  He nods. “You’re Anna and Elsa’s cousin.”

  She lifts her brows, prompting him to expand.

  “Your name has come up once or twice in conversation.”

  “Really, and what have you heard?”

  “Nothing much, only that we’ve almost met about a handful of times.”

  Emma nods, biting her bottom lip, which he finds extremely adorable. “It’s one of the downfalls of being a surgeon. My profession makes it hard to have a social life.” 

  His eyes light up and a big smile lights up his face, though he doubts not having a social life is something she’s bitter about. There is a reason her cousins have referred to her as distant and aloof more than once. “So you’re saying missing out on the opportunity to meet me is a downfall?”

  She shakes her head. “Actually no, I was just being polite. I’m kind of anti-social. But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

  He nods, trying to hide the disappointment he feels after her blunt admission. “You’re right, I did. You’re quite perceptive,” he remarks before slugging down the last of his rum.

  She shrugs. “I’m a doctor. I have to be able to sense when a patient isn't telling me something I should know before I go cutting them open.” 

  He nods in understanding, and they’re both silent as she looks around the room and slowly nurses her drink. After a moment, her eyes return to his, a solemn expression on her face. 

  “I’m sorry about your brother by the way. I didn’t know him well but I know he was a good man to Elsa.”

  His features cloud with sadness, eyes darkening at the mention of Liam. “Thank you. He was a very good man.”

  Emma suddenly narrows her eyes at him. “Aren’t you a detective like him?”

  Killian nods and scratches behind his ear. “I was, but not anymore.” He hates lying to her, but he has to. At least for now. “After he died, I moved to Port Lavaca and got a job as a dockhand.”

  She lifts a brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You went from being a detective to making ten dollars an hour scrubbing fish guts off of boats?”

  "It's twelve dollars an hour, and I do more than clean boats," he corrects defensively. 

  She scoffs. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean to belittle a job a ten-year-old kid could do."

  He frowns. “The pay may not be great but I get to live on the beach and inhale the salty sea air all day. It’s not a bad tradeoff, actually. Besides, if you think about it, cleaning up fish crap is not much different from the crap I cleaned up by working for the SBPD.”

  She shrugs, unconvinced. “If you say so.” She takes another sip from her ice water, staring vacantly across the room as the dance floor fills up.

  “Would you care to dance?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t dance.”

  He nods, accepting another one of her brush-offs as his eyes circle the reception hall in search of his niece. “That’s okay, I’m sure my date will dance with me.”

  When she whirls her head around to look at him and cock a brow, he can’t help but notice how much her face clouds with disappointment. “You came here with a date?”

“Is that so hard to believe, love?” He also doesn’t fail to notice she doesn’t correct her pet name this time.

  “No, I’m sure there’s some poor woman out there either naive or desperate enough to fall for your charm.”

  Killian brings his hand to his chest like he’d just been wounded. “Ouch, that hurts.” He spots his niece dancing with the bride and sets his glass on a vacant table. “I assure you, she is as smart as a whip. In fact, she’s probably smarter than anyone else her age.” He waves at Camila, getting her attention, and she happily rushes to him through the crowd. With a sidelong glance, he witnesses Emma’s eyes following his gaze to see who his date is.

  She laughs upon realizing he was referring to Camila. 

  And it’s the first time he’s heard her laugh. Even though a crowd-pleasing song is pouring from the speakers, Emma’s laugh is music to his ears. 

  “Your niece is your date?”

  “Aye.”

  “Uncle Killy! Auntie Emma!” Camila chants, rushing over to them. 

  He extends his hand to her. “Would you care to dance, little love?”

  She grins and nods, slipping her hand in his. He escorts her to the dancefloor, and she steps on each of his feet and takes her uncle’s offered hands as they move to the music.

  As he dances with Camila, he does his best to avoid glancing over at Emma—he genuinely wants to spend time with his niece—but every now and then, his eyes make their way across the room.

  ~*~

  Emma returns to the bar for a refill and plops down on a stool with a heavy sigh, her feet killing her from wearing these damn high heels. She really wishes she could drink alcohol right now because then she wouldn’t feel so nervous. She orders another water, and the bartender takes away her empty glass, giving her a fresh one. Her stomach is full of butterflies as she nurses her water and gazes over at Killian on the dance floor with Camila. 

  Emma doesn't know much about him, but she has learned a few things. One, his British accent does things to her when he speaks, and two, he’s much more handsome up close. She also knows he’s cocky and kind of obnoxious. Oh, and he’s ridiculously adorable with his five-year-old niece. If this weren’t her cousin's wedding and if she had her own vehicle, she would escape. Because he’s exactly the type of guy she tries to avoid at all costs—good looking and well aware of the effect he has on women. But there's also something very genuine about him. He’s honest and not afraid to say what he thinks. She appreciates that more than she’s afraid to admit.

  After they had bumped into each other, she'd been apprehensive to talk to him because she'd seen him sitting with David and she knew through the grapevine he was a detective like Liam. She was afraid he was going to interrogate her about Graham's murder. But her guard lowered when he told her was no longer working for the SBPD and moved to Port Lavaca after his brother died. She knew he was telling the truth because she'd also heard through the grapevine he moved.

  She sighs and averts her gaze from the dance floor and the ridiculously handsome man to take a sip of her drink. She thinks about throwing caution to the wind, carpe diem as they say, and going over to dance with him. But the thing is, she doesn't know how to dance.

  Before she can ponder the thought any further, she sees out of the corner of her eye a figure claiming the stool next to her. She can feel their stare burning into her skin, and that overwhelming sense of paranoia that’s been eating away at her insides ever since the phone call from Gold takes over and she glances over to see who is sitting next to her. She exhales a deep breath of relief when she recognizes the man she thinks is one of Kristoff’s friends as he looks away from her to order a drink from the bartender.  

  Emma rests her elbows on the counter and buries her face in her hands, berating herself for being so paranoid. She keeps expecting Gold to show up at every turn; she keeps expecting to hear his voice on the other end of the line when she answers the phone, regardless of the number on her caller id, or lack thereof. She’s even afraid of being alone in her own freaking house! 

  She really needs to get a grip and stop letting that creep get to her, but at the same time she has good reason for being scared. In medical school, she had studied enough required psychology to know Gold is the most dangerous kind of criminal. He believes himself invincible and therefore will dare to do anything.

  Emma lifts her head and looks over to catch the man next to her giving her a once over, his lips stretching into a coy grin. “Hi there. You’re Anna's cousin, right?”

  Emma has to refrain from rolling her eyes as she steers her gaze away from him. “That’s right,” she mumbles, running a finger around the rim of her glass.

  “I’m Hans.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him extending his hand to her. She doesn’t move to shake it though.

  “And you are?”

  She turns her head, flashing him a fake smile. “Not interested.”

  He chuckles as the bartender hands him his drink. “That’s an interesting name, Not Interested. You from around here?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Hmmm, okay,” he says as he takes a swig of his drink.

  At least he knows how to take a hint. She sighs in relief and continues sipping her water in silence.

  “Well, Not Interested, I’m from out of town. I’m staying in a hotel room around the corner from here. If you get a little too tipsy from your drink, you’re more than welcome to crash in my room for the night.”

  Emma clenches her jaw and is two seconds away from getting up from her seat and either giving him a piece of her mind or throwing her drink in his face. Just as she shifts to rise from her stool, a hand on her back makes her jump out of her skin and when she spins her head around to see whose hand she has to cut off, she loses her train of thought. And her breath.

  “There you are, darling. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Killian leans in to kiss her cheek, and her breath catches when she feels those warm, luscious lips on her skin. “I should have known you’d be at the bar,” he chuckles playfully and glances at Hans while his thumb is idly stroking her back. “I can’t take her anywhere.” His spicy cologne hits her senses intensely, crippling her from head to toe when he reaches over her, extending his other hand to the stranger. “Killian Jones, Emma’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

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[fleckcmscott]

Things Past

Summary: Arthur shares a childhood memory with Y/N. She sees it differently than he does.

Warnings: Mild angst

Words: 2,645

A/N: This was an anonymous request! Thank you for sending it to me - it was a real challenge. A big thanks to Karen, too. Not just for beta-ing, but for helping with the basis of the memory in question. (I had an idea but hers was much better.) 

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Y/N was clad in her robe and brushing her teeth when Arthur entered the bathroom, flashed her a half-smile, and sat on the side of the tub. A mix of nicotine and cologne hung in the air. He must have smoked half a pack if he was trying to cover up the scent. The flexing of his bare toes on the dark tile floor, and the nibbling of his thumbnail caught her eye in the mirror. Once she rinsed, she grabbed a piece of floss and sat next to him, situating herself so they were hip to hip.

They were fast approaching five years together. Arthur and she still found respite in each other's presence. In shared warmth, not only in the familiarity of their affection, but also in the meeting of lips and bodies during lovemaking and otherwise. And in their companionable silences, which continued to hold a tacit acknowledgment that he could tell her whatever he needed, whether he uttered a simple word or two, or the rare paragraph.

Arthur appeared to be somewhere in the middle of that range of need now. It was evident in the tightness of his back as she put her palm on it. Rubbing gently, fingertips tracing his spine, she sought to bring him out. Like she had back when he'd sat on her sofa with his journal, a stand-up fresh off his first performance. The morning she'd realized she'd fallen in love with him.

His sigh let her know her attention was working. "Dr. Ludlow wants to talk about when I was a kid," he murmured. "I won't know what to say. I barely remember anything."

The subject of his childhood was seldom discussed. Even after his mother had passed away last spring; he'd been silent when they'd picked-up her belongings at the home. (He'd thrown out everything besides the periodic letters and photos Y/N had sent, stating "I like reading I make you happy.") They had never gone over the details in the Arkham file. He'd told her he hadn't and wouldn't look at all of it. He'd seen the headlines, scanned the psychiatric interview, touched the adoption certificate. That had been enough.

While he'd guessed she'd looked at Penny's records, she hadn't disclosed that she'd eventually read all it contained. Had learned the details of his neglect and abuse. Had seen the photos of his emaciated, bruised body. Her throat constricted as they flashed in her mind's eye. It was a mercy he wasn't aware of everything that had occurred. Even if his unconscious knew.

Of course, if he asked her, she'd answer any questions he had. Tell him all of it. But she didn't want to burden him. Or for him to feel shame, an unwarranted reaction her experience reading family cases had taught her was common. The two of them would keep doing what they always had: deal with the residual effects of his past, the symptoms of his illnesses together, as best they could. And for what she couldn't help with, he had his doctor and his journal.

"You can say whatever you want." Y/N bunched up the floss and tossed it towards the trash can under the sink, groaning as it bounced off the rim and back at them. "You could bring back some classic parts of your act. The one about how you hated school," she said, nudging his side. "And how the other kids were too unsophisticated to see what a sweet, funny boy you were."

He retrieved the plastic thread and stood up, threw it away. At his scoff, she realized her attempt to lighten his load hadn't worked. "That was, what? Over thirty years ago?" Then he turned to her, his thumb stuck in the waistband of his pajamas. "We have our life now. Why should it matter?"

Reluctance to admit one's past affected the present was understandable. She'd denied it to herself when she'd first moved to Gotham. Burying herself in her work had been enjoyable. And it had had the convenient side effect of allowing her to avoid processing the ways caretaking had changed her. Starting a relationship with Arthur had forced her to stop and take a breath, to examine its impact. It had done her good. She was certain it would him, too.

"Arthur." He took her proffered hand without pause and stepped to her automatically. She pressed her mouth above his navel, laid her cheek against the warm skin of his belly. "I'll be right here for you." The caress to her hair was featherlight and her hold on him tightened. "You've put so much work into yourself. This is difficult but you can do it."

Bending to her, he kissed the top of her head. "Go to bed. I don't wanna keep you up."

"It's all right if you do. I happen to like your company." At last, she succeeded in getting a chuckle out of him and a playful swat to her thigh. But he withdrew and wished her good night. Heading into their bedroom, she heard the click of the lamp in the living room, the opening of the door to the fire escape. He'd be outside for some time, she assumed. Quickly, she got one of his sweaters and brought it out to him. Though he raised a brow at her, his eyes were full of fondness. She slung the wool shirt over his shoulder and pecked his jaw before taking her leave.

~~~~~

Occasionally, Arthur would call her office before leaving for an appointment. He'd never say he was thinking of skipping a session. That he was having doubts they were working at all. That tough days were infrequent yet harsh. His flat tone and pauses clued her in, though. He'd been calm when he called today, and she'd kidded with him until his mood had buoyed and he'd said he was going. Promising a date night, if he felt up to it, had helped.

Currently, Y/N was in line at Marchetti's waiting for take-out. Wanting to catch-up on the evening news, she grabbed a Gotham Journal from the newsstand. Since the murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne in a robbery six months ago, Gotham's malfeasance appeared to have gotten worse. Reports of small businesses being cited for minor code violations, while establishments run by people with the right name and enough money were left to their own devices, flourished. Construction strikes had become more frequent, which she would normally support. But they had a way of ending as soon as the city placed a higher bid. The chief of police had been photographed hobnobbing with a crime boss, but the mayor had taken no action.

On top of it all, the Wayne Foundation, that thorn in her side, was drawing back many of the initiatives it had begun after increasingly austere program cuts. Including services at that damned medical center in Otisburg. They couldn't run out of funds, the board claimed. With the continuously sluggish economy, returns on their investments weren't what they used to be. The organization needed to ensure the Wayne's son would be taken care of.

Y/N didn't buy those excuses. She had nothing against the boy - she couldn't imagine losing her parents at such a young age. But how many mansions, gazebos, and toys did a child need? The skeptical part of her, the one that always suspected an angle, wondered if the increase in the city's corruption and the Wayne Foundations machinations were related...

Stop it, Y/N. Quickly, she shoved the paper back in its spinning rack. If she thought about it too much, she'd find a way to stumble into an investigation she couldn't ignore. While she'd be ready for one and relish it, she didn't want to focus on that tonight.

Their order was ready in about twenty minutes. Arthur and she had gotten into the habit of getting two individual pizzas, borne of his limited willingness to experiment with toppings. Normally, he was happy to take her recommendations, but he insisted cheese was just as good as any other kind and liked to have it to fall back on. She'd gotten Hawaiian for herself. If he was in the mood to eat, she was sure they'd split them.

Happy notes from the Sinatra live album she'd gifted him for his most recent birthday hit her as she opened the apartment door.  It was a pleasant surprise. Arthur only listened to the LP when he was doing all right. (It had prompted him to tell her of his wish to go see him in concert together, and he didn't want to taint that with negative thoughts.)

Upon peeking around the corner from the kitchen, she spotted Arthur in his writing nook, scribbling hurriedly and tapping his feet to the beat. He was obviously engrossed, but she didn't think he'd mind if she interrupted. Soon she approached his desk, plates in hand. "Knock, knock."

A gentle snort as he put down his pen, "Who's there?"

"Delivery service." She propped her hip against the edge of his desk, and placed the food next to his journal, along with a paper towel. "You owe me a tip."

"I do, don't I?" He angled his head up and pulled her in for a quick kiss. "Thanks. I've only had coffee since this morning. Just been working on my material." Swallowing, he flipped back a page in his notebook. "How did the little boy learn to get home?" His green eyes met hers, a hiccup of laughter in his throat. He allowed about three seconds before giving her the punchline. "Step by step by step by step."

Her features softened and her grin drifted away as she absorbed what he'd jotted. In the past, his act had contained references to his childhood. References which could have been based on recollections, figments, or both. This was an observation in joke form, as his jests tended to be. "That's clever." She reached to brush a chestnut wave from his forehead, deciding to ask what she'd been curious about since she got in. "I'm glad you're doing so well. I take it therapy went better than expected?"

Nodding, he gave her a tight-lipped smiled, dimples on display. "Mhm." She moved to sit more fully on his desk, straightening as she secured her paper towel to the neckline of her blouse. They munched quietly, glancing between their slices and each other. It was clear he wanted to tell her more. After he finished his first bites, he shifted in his chair. "I remembered something nice."

A weight rolled off her shoulders, and the corners of her mouth turned up. "That's wonderful."

"Yeah." His teeth worried his thin bottom lip, his gaze going to his plate. "I was at school late - maybe I got in trouble for laughing. Penny was supposed to get me. But I think she forgot, so I had to walk home... It was dark. I hadn't gone that far by myself."

With every word he spoke, Y/N's elation ebbed, replaced by sympathy. But she didn't stop him. "The next day was the same. My mother wasn't there." He still switched back and forth between her name and that title, though he used the latter less and less. "I buttoned my coat and tied my shoes on my own." The satisfaction reflected in his expression contrasted with the pain welling in her. "The steps were icy, but I didn't fall once."

A hitched chuckle left him. "Penny stared at me when she finally answered the door. She couldn't believe I remembered the way home. Then she picked me up." His eyelids fluttered. And the beam on his face was blinding. "She said I was a good boy and told me I was big enough to walk home from then on. She gave me a quarter for a movie." His voice became small, as small as the boy in the story. "I think she was proud of me."

Y/N kept her stare fixed to the floor. Her chewing had slowed, then halted completely. A question nagged at her, even as she assumed the answer would hurt. "How old were you?"

A slight shrug in the corner of her eye. "Six? Seven?"

It shouldn't have stunned her that what he'd introduced as "nice" was to the contrary. But she was gutted. The implications behind it tightened her chest. Was it the last time his mother had held him? Had he gone to the damned movie theater alone, too? Why the hell had the city given him back to Penny?

She'd spent a lot of effort helping him learn that it was okay to be angry and upset sometimes. That he didn't have to lie to her about how he felt. That he didn't have to hide if things were too much for him or he had a bad day. And here she was, doing her best to paste on a smile for him. The difference, she supposed, was that it was to protect him. Not to lie to herself.

She didn't want him to have an inkling regarding the tumult she'd experienced in the last five minutes. That this memory wasn't ideal. Telling him how to feel about it would be crossing the line from honesty into cruelty. There had to be a truth in this she could be happy about. And following some pondering, she found one. He had so few memories from his youth. She supposed he'd been fortunate to retrieve one he considered positive, even though it broke her heart.

She permitted herself to sniff once, blinked a few times at the carpet, and looked to him. "I'm glad you have that to hold onto." Thank god she'd managed to keep her voice from wavering. She distracted herself by squeezing his hand, then brought his knuckles to her lips. "You deserve it."

After a sharp exhale, Arthur moved his palm to hold her shoulder and drew her to him. "You know how you needed me to get into NCB studios? To do your job?"

Twisting to put her plate on the desk, she couldn't stop her giggle. It hadn't been her job - it had been the opposite, frankly. "Of course."

"You're like that for me when it's hard." It was a simple comparison, but she thought it was one of the most beautiful she'd ever heard. She pushed her lips to his, titling her head to deepen the connection and cup his cheeks.

He loosened himself from her grip and grabbed the paper towel she'd tucked into her shirt. Laughing, he tried to wipe away the grease she'd gotten on his face. Y/N plucked the napkin from him and weaved her fingers into his silky hair, imploring him not to care. She looked down at him, unable to stop a smile from forming.

Damn, she was a lucky woman. How did he manage to cheer her, even with the ache lingering in her breast? She'd have to be extra sweet to him in the upcoming days. Hug him tighter, longer, until he pushed her off and shook his head with a smirk before pulling her back in again. It would soothe her, allow her to deal with the mixed emotions she felt at his recollection. Ensure his joyful mood stuck around and make him happy.

She'd start tonight. "We can skip Gotham News and watch whatever you want." She tapped his chest. "You pick."  

"I like watching the news with you." He grinned, then. "But I rented a movie. A comedy from the thirties. There's dancing."

Comedies were much more his cup of tea than hers. But she'd watch anything to sit next to him, to see joy in his eyes, to hold and be held by him. She nuzzled at him and kissed his cheek. "I'm sure we'll love it."

~~~~~

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