#can we talk about how Lucy signed her letter L

[brideofedwardhyde]

Pray for my Happiness

On May 11th, we get the first of Lucy Westenra’s letters and I am again appalled at how her character has been adapted. So many versions of Dracula reduce her to a shallow, vapid, foolish caricature of a young woman. Even in this brief passage the reader can sense how earnest, sweet, and loving she is to Mina and Arthur. It means everything to her that her mother and Arthur get along, and she emphasizes how she and Mina have been friends since they were children. They have shared everything together, “laughed and cried,” together. Later in the story we see how she agonizes over having to reject two of her suitors—hurting people isn’t fun for her. Yet, so many versions completely sexualize and reshape her into someone unrecognizable. It’s just so…frustrating.

[mortalfaerie]

To Fake an Engagement (M.F.)

part 3/?

mathew fairchild x (fem) reader

wordcount: 3k

synopsis: part 3 of this series. reader and mathew are reunited at the london intstitute’s famous christmas party, and spend some impromptu alone time in the games room, where those 3 little words make an appearance. flirty, but no smut (yet). no coi spoilers.

You couldn’t help but feel something had shifted for the better after Anna’s party. Winter had descended now, covering London in a constant white cover, but you still wrote letters regularly to Matthew on the days you didn’t see him, and he wrote you back enthusiastically. 

As Christmastime approached, Will and Tessa sent invites to the annual Christmas Ball at the Institute to members of the Enclave, and you diligently ticked off the days on your calendar to December 25th. Shadowhunters didn’t typically exchange gifts or celebrate in the way of many mundanes, but as it aligned with the time that the greater demon, Lilith, was banished to Edom, it warranted note and minor celebration among the nephilim. 

But, for the young and carefree members of the Enclave, it was a party, and that was enough. 

Your dress for the event had been a gift from your parents, and was far more extravagant than the practical day dresses you normally favored. All the same, you felt a sense of private vanity as you regarded yourself in your bedroom mirror, dressed and styled for the occasion. The dress was a lovely green velvet, ideal for the colder weather, with wide, slashed sleeves and lace trim. Your maid had drawn your hair up in the popular “Gibson Girl” style, with stray curls framing your face and a decorative sprig of winterberries tucked into a hairpin. You felt, seeing yourself, like you were viewing a rare exotic animal, far from what you displayed on a day to day basis.

With a knock on your bedroom door, your maid alerted you that your family was gathering in the foyer to depart soon, and you gethered your skirts and hurried downstairs. You shrugged on your coat and allowed your mother to fuss over you a moment before shooing you into the carriage. Your father nodded in that sort of patriarchal approval most moderately wealthy fathers did, and asked if you had your weapon on you- you turned out your pocket to show the hilt of your dagger, sheathed over your petticoat. He nodded again, satisfied, and you were on your way.

The Institute at Christmastime never failed to amaze you. Tessa had an admirable eye for design, and always the ballroom and foyer were transformed with berries, bobbles, garlands, and sprigs of pine. There was even a felled tree decorated in the entrance, which had carved wood rune ornaments adorning it. As your parents greeted the heads of the Institute, Tessa tapped you on the shoulder to whisper, “They’re gathered in the games room, if you’d like to join them.”

There was no need to clarify “them,” it was only ever your closest friends, the merry thieves, Lucie, and now Cordelia too. You nodded and excused yourself, gathering your skirts and hurrying down the corridor to the closed doors of the games room, where you took a deep breath and pushed through.

When you entered, you found James and Christopher engaged in animated conversation, while Matthew, Cordelia, Thomas, and Lucie surrounded the billiards table as Lucie lined up a shot. Just as she cracked the balls on the carpeted table, the doors clicked shut behind you and all turned to look. A soft silence fell across them for a few seconds as they looked at you, and then Lucie broke it by throwing down the billiards stick and exclaiming, “Oh, good! Y/N, you’re here at last.” and enveloped you in a hug. 

You laughed at her enthusiasm, and went to greet the others. Having not seen eachother in some time now due to the weather, hugs were exchanged when normally they were not upon greeting, and Thomas patted the berry garland in your hair, commenting that you had not gotten taller in the past weeks, to which you stuck out your tongue.

The room resumed its activities before you had arrived, and you took a spot against the wall behind the billiards table, where it was now Cordelia’s turn. Matthew drifted back from the table to lean against the wall beside you. Matthew, unlike the others, had not hugged you in greeting, but smiled warmly and kissed your gloved hand.

“Hello again.” He murmured as he took his place beside you.

“Hello yourself.” you replied, bumping him with your hip.

“Is it too soon to ask for your first dance tonight?” he asked, his voice still a whisper. You turned to regard him, but saw he was serious.

“Well, Mr. Fairchild,” you said with mock formality, “my affections are not otherwise engaged.” 

He smiled and replied, “Most capital. I should look forward to meeting you on the dance floor, Miss. Y/L/N.”

After that, the comfortable silence slipped over you again, as it had at Anna’s party. Your hands were close enough at your sides that your fingers brushed his, and you noticed him looking down thoughtfully as they did. 

Before long, Will appeared at the door to tell you the enough guests had arrived that you all should make your way to the ballroom, and Lucie came to link her arm in yours, just as James took Cordelia’s hand, and the remaining 3 walked side by side. You thought to yourself, watching James and Cordelia warmly proceed ahead of you, that their fake marriage seemed to be faring better than you anticipated. Perhaps, not all sentiment they displayed for the public was fake.

In the ballroom, guests were finding their places at seats arranged along the walls, and you let Lucie guide you to a table in the corner, where often the 7 of you congregated during balls. As the piano turned out a german waltz, Will and Tessa took to the floor, as the hosts always have the first dance together. As they did, the young members of the enclave began to talk amongst themselves, finding partners for the next dance. Matthew found his way to your side just as the waltz ended, and the piano began into a joyful portland tune. 

“Shall we?” he asked, a gleam in his eyes.

You grinned in return. “I believe we shall.” 

He led you onto the dancefloor, where you took your place alongside other pairs, and began in with the lively, gliding steps of the portland polka. You laughed intermittently throughout it- the polka was a fast, fun dance, leaving little time for conversation. It was a dance to have with an experienced partner, one whose company you were comfortable in. Over the past 3 months, Matthew had proved to be all of those things, and you couldn’t help but smile as he spun you about.

At the end of the set, you bowed to each other, as was custom, and he asked, “Join me to procure refreshments?” 

You held out your hand for him to take, which he did eagerly. “Lead the way.”

He offered you a sherry as you passed the refreshments, and he told you all the gossip he had gleaned from his parent’s conversations over the past few weeks as you leisurely walked a circuit around the ballroom. You smiled and laughed at his comments, but secretly you were anxious that he would drink too much as the night went on. You didn’t mind him drinking a bit, you thought, and it was fun sometimes to drink with Matthew, but you detested being truly drunk yourself, and you had waited weeks to see Matthew again in person, you wanted to savor this Matthew, uninhibited, as best you could.

You sipped your drink until you emptied it, at which point he suggested you dance again. You knew that to dance with the same man multiple times was to declare your interest, but it was well known you two were friends, so it shouldn’t seem so odd. You let him lead you in a country dance, and then turned you to Thomas, then Christopher, and even James, who was as he always was, the picture of propriety. When came a partner dance, you even danced with Cordelia, who was remarkably graceful, and then Lucie for a more jaunty circle dance that you both tripped and giggled through. 

After an hour of dancing, you had slipped back to the wall near the table when you felt a tap on your shoulder. It was Matthew, who said, “Blast. I seem to have lost something in the games room. Would you come with me to look? I could use another pair of eyes.” 

You smirked. “A button, perhaps? You do have so very many on your frock coat today. But, yes I shall help you, Matthew.”

He linked his arm through yours, and led you to the games room, making cordial conversation the way there. When you reached it, you slipped in and found it empty. Still, not wanting to make a loud noise, you gently pushed the doors shut behind you and leaned against them. Matthew, several feet away, regarded you.

“I didn’t lose anything here, Y/N.” he said, his voice low.

You cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “Then why did you-” but he cut you off short.

“I missed you.” he said, quiet, as through confiding a secret. Your heart swelled, but you worked to steady it. 

“I am here. You have been with me all night.” you breathed. “How can you miss me?”

He walked closer to you, standing only about a foot away. “I have been missing you every moment I am not alone with you.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, your blush creeping up your neck. “Do not play with my heart, Matthew.” you warned, quiet as a mouse.

He placed his hand with the ring- your family ring- over his heart and said, “I am not playing with anything, Y/N.”

Your breath hitched and you clicked closed the lock of the door. The sound of it sliding into place reverberated through the room. You stared into his emerald eyes, searching for the sign of a lie or a joke, but found none. 

Finally, your heart in your throat, you said just loud enough for him to hear, “Then kiss me, Matthew Fairchild.”

He obliged, his ring-clad hands coming to cup your face, leaning down to close the distance between you, and you gasped and rose onto your toes to meet him. Your arms came around him, one on his chest and another on his back, holding him to you. You could feel his pulse, wildly fast, under his shirt and vest, and he pressed his lips to yours in a movement that was both patient and frantic, practiced and entirely unready. 

You knew Matthew had kissed people before. You had seen it, actually, at parties and at The Devil’s Tavern. Even still, his hands shook as he cupped your face, and you moved to cover them with your own, to assure him that you wanted this too. 

Instinct taking over, your lips parted as he moved against them, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. You made a small noise of surprise but didn’t pull away, instead pressing yourself further against him. A sort of need burned inside you, a need to be as close as you possibly could. Your hands moved to knot in his golden hair, feeling the softness of it, and he made a noise akin to a moan against your lips when you closed your fingers around a tuft of his hair firmly. Startled, you pulled back to look at him, and he returned your look of surprise.

His face was flushed, lips pink from the pressure of kissing, and his green eyes were glazed with want. “Sorry.” he murmured somewhat sheepishly. Now, that was a moment to remember, a sheepish Matthew. “I… liked the feeling of it. I didn’t think.”

You playfully bumped his head in response. “Don’t be. I was just surprised.” 

This was the Matthew you loved. Unguarded, smiling in earnest, he looked like he had when you had first met him, the look of childlike wonder restored in his eyes. You moved your hand to his cheek and he leaned into it, looking at you with an expression that was so warm and full of awe. 

“Wait a second.” you said, and moved to pull off your gloves. On your hand, catching the witchlight, was the Fairchild ring, hidden under your dress gloves but worn as a private reminder, as a hopeful prayer. He smiled seeing it glint as you placed your gloves on the bookshelf beside the door. Then, you turned to him again and said very matter of factly,

“I want you to kiss me again.” 

This time, you were ready. More confidently, you let your hands travel up his back, savoring the smoothness of his silk vest. He cradled your head like you were all that was precious in the world, and the kiss became faster, more eager, until you parted again, panting. 

“Can I pick you up?” he asked.

 You furrowed your eyebrows, but nodded. In response, he swept you up in his arms, leaving you to wrap your arms around his neck. You didn’t look away from him as he carried you to the billiard table and sat you on it, making your height level. Your legs dangled off the edge, and you kicked off your shoes mindlessly and you grabbed hold of his tie and loosened it. With your hand still around the knot of it, you pulled, bringing him back to you as his hands went to steady himself on either side of you on the table surface.

“Y/N…” he murmured against your lips. It was like a question, a warning, and a plea all at once. 

“Please.” you murmured in response, and he moved to devour your lips again. 

Suddenly, you heard someone try the handle of the door. At once, you were thankful both that you hadn’t lit any more lights than the usual witchlight, and that you locked the door behind you. Likely, it was another young couple looking to steal away somewhere, and they moved along the hallway in search of some other place. Matthew dropped his head into the crook of your shoulder and cursed, as you threaded your fingers idly in his hair. 

When you were certain they had passed, he pulled back and looked at you. “What are we doing?” he asked, a little breathy.

“I- well, you were kissing me.” you supplied, missing the warmth of his body.

“No, I mean, what are we doing? What is this?” he asked, gesturing to the space between you.

You removed your hands from his hair and wrung them in your lap. “Well, I... I enjoyed my evening very much so far, please don’t think that I haven’t.”

He placed a hand over yours to stop you from worrying at them. “But are we doing this because of the deal? Because it’s convenient?” 

Your heart fractured at the suggestion. Haughtily, you scooted off the table and paced, shoeless, away from him.

“Y/N?” he asked to your back.

“Do not speak about convenience to me.” you said, more sternly than you intended.

“What does that mean?” he asked, an edge of exasperation in his voice.

You whirled. “It means, Matthew,” you pointed an accusatory finger at him, “that I have loved you since I was 14 years old, so do not think to speak to me about convenience!” you hissed, still aware that you had to keep your voice down.

Matthew laughed humorlessly and raked a hand through his hair. 

You simmered in your building rage. “You said you would not play with my heart.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he replied, “And I am not.”

“Then why would you suggest that you have brought me to an empty room and kissed me because of convenience?” you demanded.

“I suppose I thought because you would lose so little in this deal, that it might just be convenient excitement for you!” he exclaimed in a harsh whisper.

Your face burned. “I had thought better of your opinion of me.” you moved to go grab your shoes, but he caught your arm.

“I had no idea that you loved me!” he said, trying to halt you in your path. 

“Why else would I agree to this?” you demanded. “Why else would I hope that at the end of a year, you might love me? Why keep the ring?” you flashed your hand to him. “Why entertain ideas of marriage, Matthew? Why suggest I marry you if you didn’t think I loved you?”

“Because I didn’t want to think I would have to be alone!” he admitted. His eyes were sparkling with the suggestion of tears in the dim witchlight, but none spilled over.

You couldn’t take it. You might have been red with frustration and deeply annoyed with him, but you never could stomach Matthew to think so desperately low of himself. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his chest in a hug, and he froze, then enveloped you. 

“Matthew, you would never be alone. You have a parabatai, friends, and you would have found love regardless.” you assured him, but you felt the tremble of his body and accepted his nonresponse as him trying not cry. You hugged him closer, and listened to his heart rate as it began to finally slow, and his breaths became more even. 

“I don’t deserve you.” he said quietly.

“That is not for you to decide.” you countered, not releasing your hold on him. “I am happy when I am with you.”

He rested his chin on your head as he spoke, “But would you be happy if you married me?”

“Not for you to decide.” you repeated. “A marriage is a partnership. Its success would be as much my work as yours.”

He was quiet for a moment, before taking your face and turning it to him. “If you would marry me,” he began, “I would be forever thankful to you. I would spend each day in service of your happiness.” 

You kissed him again, sweetly this time, savoring his taste. When you pulled away, you said, “We should return to the ball before there’s much suspicion. Oh, and fix your tie and hair.” 

Matthew’s hand went indignantly to his hair, which was thoroughly mussed by your hands.

You smiled as you put your shoes back on and gloves, then peeking out of the door to be sure no one was there. You slipped out, Matthew’s arm cordially laced in yours, as you cut through to the kitchen to grab a piece of cake. While slipping through the adjoining sitting room with your spoils, you found your friends already there, having stolen some of the cake as well. 

“There you are!” Cordelia exclaimed, and gestured for you to join them, hiding out from the ball. 

James snickered, however, and added, “But first, look up.”

Confused, you looked first to Matthew, and then up to the archway above you, where a sprig of mistletoe was hung, probably by Bridget, with her folk traditions. 

You flushed immediately, and began saying, “Oh, really-” but before you could finish, Matthew snaked an arm around your waist and pressed a sweet, soft kiss to your mouth. You broke away, still blushed a deep red and regarded your friends who wore expressions of laughter, surprise, and suspicion. Lucie regarded you with a look that said you’d be explaining yourself later. For now, though, you went to join your friends eating pilfered Christmas cake as the night went on.

[ssa-sugar-tits]

queen of hearts // chapter nine

summary : y/n y/l/n was crushed when she found out about maeve donovan. heartbroken, she left her entire life behind. what happens when she becomes the most prolific serial killer the bau has ever seen?

series masterlist + taglist

content warnings : murder, gunshots, death, sexual harassment, angst (lots of it)

a/n : reader is a psychotic murderer. this is purely a work of fiction and if you or someone you know are experiencing homicidal urges, seek professional help immediately.

-

You did it.

Wow.

You got you and your baby out of that shithole and you're on the run. The news and the FBI plastered your face everywhere so of course you changed your appearance as best as you could. Can't really hide a 7 month baby bump though, can you? You make your way to an empty road and stick your thumb out to hitchhike. A woman with strawberry blonde hair stops, letting you into her worn out green truck.

-

"Thank you so much!" you exclaim, getting into the truck. Thump. Your heart could jump right out of your chest. All it takes is one headline, one picture and she'll turn you in.

"Make yourself comfy, sweetie," she gives you a warm smile. "I'm Maggie. Where you headed?"

"I'm Lucy," you lie. "Anywhere but here. As far as you can take me, please."

"What's got you running? If you don't mind me asking."

"Let's just say I got away from a very bad place." you whisper. It's not a lie.

Maggie nods sympathetically and goes to turn on the radio.

"No!" you clearly startle her, filling you with guilt. "I- I'm sorry, I'd just prefer silence right now."

"Don't worry about it, Lucy. I know what it's like to be in a bad situation, I know all too well." She says sadly. "I won't do anything to make you uncomfortable, you just sit tight."

Maggie's words give you a sense of comfort, her kindness sets you slightly at ease. It'd fucking suck to have to kill her, you think. After what seems like few hours, you wake up to see her pumping gas into the truck. She enters the store, telling you she's been craving some licorice and she'll be right back. You're not heartless, you don't want to hurt this sweet woman. So, as anyone would do, you knock out the only other person around with one swift swing of a bat you found in Maggie's truck. Getting into the car, you hotwire it while the man you hit groans on the ground, bleeding. Red stains his shirt and your heart races. It's been a long time since you've done anything like this. Shit, shit, shit. You see Maggie at the cash register, paying. Lucky for you, the talkative woman gives you time by conversing with the cashier. Spark. Got it. Taking one last glance, you see Maggie drop her bag and gasp, whipping her head to look at you. There's a fucking TV in the gas station and guess who's face is on it? You back up the van and wince at the sound of the man's bones cracking paired with his agonized scream. Now or never. Hitting the pedal, you floor it.

-

You stop to breathe for a moment, parking outside of a shitty looking motel. The neon sign is broken so it reads Mot l. You open the trunk of the car you stole to look for anything useful. How lucky, you think. A small, silver handgun is tucked away underneath a plaid knit blanket. Where are the bullets? Must be in the front. Getting into the car and searching the glove compartment, you locate the ammo.

"Goddamn, if that isn't one hell of an ass." A gruff voice behind you whistles. Ignoring him, what he says next makes your heart burst into fear. Thump. "Be careful lovely lady. Heard there's a killer running around. I'll keep you safe though." You feel a hand make its way onto your back slowly and you turn yourself on your back.

"Fuck off." you growl. Click. Gun loaded. Pointing it at the man's now petrified face, you smirk.

"I-I'm sorry!" he spits out.

"No, you aren't honey." Bang. His body hits the ground with a thud and the familiar metallic taste of blood splatters your face. A steady hand wipes away the remains from your eyes and you exit the car, as calmly as you can manage.

"I'd like a room please." The motel owner stares at you, astonished. At the blood or because he recognizes you? Either one isn't good. This wasn't a good decision-- at all. Thump. A shriek from the parking lot distracts you momentarily and the owner takes a laptop and hits you over the head.

"What the fuck?" you grumble. The dumbass didn't even draw blood. With a quick flash, you shoot him too. This whole thing is getting tiring. Fuck, fuck. How the fuck? you wonder, pissed off as you hear sirens. Did the source of the shriek really call the cops that fast? Or were you in such a haze that you can't even think straight, let alone keep track of time. Oh, fuck me. Three black SUVs are with the swarm of police cars. SUVs that you recognize without a doubt as the FBI. Thump. No negotiations this time, no bullshit.

You exit the motel with the gun in your hand. Red and blue lights make you squint and illuminate your figure in the dead of night. Getting a good look at the imagie in front of you, you laugh. Lo and behold, the BAU.

"I'm sorry." you say, just loud enough for everyone to hear before pointing the gun at Spencer Reid.

Bang. Thump. The sharp pain shoots through your chest and you hear a scream. Your head hits the ground and your entire body gives out.

"Y/N!"

You laugh, spitting up raspy strings of red as you do. Suddenly, your head is being cradled and you're being frantically whispered to and yelled about.

-

"Medic! We need a medic!"

-

"N-Nice turnout, isn't it?" You cough violently.

"Shh, don't talk Y/N. Please." He strokes your hair as the EMTs load you into the ambulance.

"S-Spence," you call out, barely able to stay conscious.

"What is it sweetheart?"

"Take care of my b-baby for me," another horrible cough escapes you. "Give her the best life you can, t-tell her..."

"Miss Y/L/N, hurry it up, we need to get you into surgery."

"Tell her that her mother loves her, even if I'm not around."

Spencer's eyes flood with tears, they spill out onto his cheeks as he watches the ambulance drive away. Then it hits him. Her. He's having a baby girl.

-

SPENCER'S POV - E.R.

-

Hours pass with still no update on Y/N's condition. Most of team has gone home, waiting on call. I don't blame them. I'm the only one still here for Y/N. I feel helpless, like my head is underwater and I'm about to drown. Guilty, so guilty that I still love her. Angry. She's the one who was shot yet the anguish I feel is so fucking deep that it's as if knives are stabbing at my lungs.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" I stand up so quickly I think I might fall over.

"Yes I'm her b--" he stops himself. "I'm Doctor Reid with the FBI, h-how is she?"

"No loved ones here for her? I heard she killed some people but damn."

"Is she stable or not?" I snap, regretting it immediately upon seeing her reaction.

And then she speaks.

"The bullets severed 3 major arteries."

No. They saved her. They have to have saved her.

"Y/N didn't make it."

Everything stops. It feels like my limbs and head weigh a ton. Everything's heavy. My breathing becomes less and less effective, disbelieving, tiring. All color in the room fades, leaving me in darkness. I feel weak and detached, chest clenching until I collapse into the chair behind me.

"Doctor Reid?" the surgeon questions softly.

I don't look at her. I stare at the wall across from me, unable to speak, unable to cry even. My mouth is dry and I feel broken.

"Doctor Reid, I need to know who the child of her father is. We were able to save her."

Thump. Thump. Exhale. I meet her eyes.

"Take me to my daughter please." I say low and as steady as I can without breaking down. The surgeon gives me an odd look, processing the information I've given before turning. I stop her.

"Wait..." I gulp heavily. "Can I see Y/N first?"

She nods, hesitantly.

"Right this way."

Y/N's body lays, peacefully. It should be comforting to know she wasn't scared when she died but I want her here with me. I take her cold, lifeless hand in mine and the tears finally leave me. I let out a loud cry and bring my face down to her stomach, resting and shaking on her skin.

"I'm so sorry," I cry to her body, unable to hear me. "I love-- loved you. I swear."

Sniffling painfully, I notice something in her bra. Leave it to Y/N to torture me even from the dead.

-

"Dearest Spencer,

I think the way things played out were fitting. If you're reading this, I'm probably dead. Fucking creep, took a letter out of my dead body's bra. Kidding, kidding. Seriously though, give my baby a pretty name, will ya? I hope she gets your kindness, your strength. Everything that makes you you. Raise her to be everything we've ever dreamed of. You make sure she knows I love her, so much. Now quit being a pussy and wipe those tears, darling. We both know I deserved this. I love you, Spence and I forgive you. You got this babe.

Yours truly, Y/N."

-

My heart is ripped out farther and farther with each word read. It gives me a sense of closure but the pain and turmoil doesn't go away. A life where Y/N isn't here with me isn't a life at all.

"Excuse me," I say blankly as if every emotion I'm feeling simply doesn't exist within me. "I'm done."

The woman guides and then leaves me alone with my child. I hold her in my arms and gasp lightly. She's small but perfect and she smiles at me, lighting my heart. She has Y/N's smile. The fire inside me lessens, being slightly soothed by the newborn in my arms. We'd spoken a few times about having children but I'd always thought she'd be here when the day came. I think about it for a second. I won't name her Y/N, that's much too cliche for Y/N's liking. She isn't the type to name a child without meaning.

"Ellie." I whisper.

Ellie. Meaning 'shining light'.

The light I already love.

The light that holds every piece of Y/N's story in her eyes.

The light that'll get me through this utter darkness.

My light.

Goodbye Y/N. I'll never forget you, the light and the love of my mortal life.

-

[matildashoney]

𝙸 𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎? // 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚆𝚎 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚂𝚎𝚎

𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝚂 // 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃 // 𝚃𝙰𝙶𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃

𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎 // 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙻𝙰𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚁: 𝙱𝙸𝙿𝙾𝙻𝙰𝚁 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝚁, 𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙾𝚂𝙿𝙸𝚃𝙰𝙻𝚂, 𝙰𝙽𝚇𝙸𝙴𝚃𝚈

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜, 𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 @theharriediaries​ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 @truckerhatharry​ 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚊-𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎. 𝚒'𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚒 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Truthfully, Harry isn’t sure what time it is, this time around. Clocks seem to evade him, and numbers seem to dance into intricate formations that he can’t seemingly understand.

Harry Styles stops time when he walks into the room. Caroline always says that it’s the commanding presence, the nature of his personality, the way he holds everyone’s attention so easily that makes him stop an entire room and gain their attention. Caroline always says that Harry is the type to make everyone know they’re important and needed in the space, that there isn’t one person that would be in the group or the audience or the meeting that wouldn’t feel like they’re an essential part of whatever is happening.

Caroline always says that Harry makes her feel that way.

Harry makes the effort to be this way if he’s being honest. Harry makes the effort to hold everyone’s attention and make everyone feel important, because, for years, he portrayed the demeanor of someone who thought he was the most important person in the room, that he was where all the attention should be. That is until he met someone who made him see how truly minuscule in the affairs of universes and worldly happenings, he is. That is until Harry met Caroline, and he realized that there was nothing more that he wanted than to know everything and anything about her, instead of talking about himself, for once.

Until Harry met Caroline, and everything changed.

Harry isn’t sure what time it is, right now. Green eyes stare at the stark white walls surrounding him, his head leaning against a concrete foundation and the clicking of the clocks on the wall – and yet, he still can’t seem to find the time from anyone – and a raging headache forming at the forefront of his mind. His eyes shut quickly, squeezing closed to try and make the time pass any quicker than it is. Time is going so slowly, though, that he thinks he might scream. Harry wants to scream, honestly. That might make the pain easier to swallow, the heartache easier to handle.

Going based on the trajectory of the situation and where they are, Harry would be going home alone, tonight, and that’s a pill that he’s not prepared to swallow quite yet. That, and the idea that someone might tell him something that he really doesn’t want to hear, something about Caroline that will break him at the core.

Caroline wasn’t … you know … right?

Thinking that makes Harry want to be sick. There would have been a sign. There would have been some sort of something if she was. There would have been a note, a letter, something. And yet, there was nothing when Harry came home; nothing that could give him a sign or a clue or something that will tell him if he needs to worry or not.

Harry couldn’t make sense of it.

“Mr. Styles,” the nurse says, coming through a hallway and gently touching his shoulder to garner his attention, her soft demeanor comforting him as he looks with exhausted and bloodshot eyes, tears staining his cheeks. “Unfortunately, we have to keep Ms. Ryan for the twenty-four-hour waiting period, with her history and her family history, to make sure she’s not trying to hurt herself or others.” Harry nods understandingly without saying a word – that much was expected – and stands on his feet, ready to see his fiancée, finally. “Honestly, based on Ms. Ryan’s previous welfare checks and hospital stays, the doctor was not expecting it to go as well as it did. Ms. Ryan’s welfare check went much better than the others in her history, which is great news.”

“Think that we both know my wife isn’t okay, but is she okay enough for me to see her?” Harry asks nervously, unsure of the technical aspects of a hospital stay and the regulations that they’re going to have to follow. Caroline has never had this bad of an episode in their time together, and this has scared Harry more than anything. “Am I allowed to see her? I really want to see her. I’ll follow whatever regulations you have, but if I could see her, that would be really kind of you.”

That’s the first time Harry’s said the word out loud. Wife. Caroline would be Harry’s wife, soon. This could effectively tamper with the timeline and how long that very well takes. Harry doesn’t care about any of that like he knows Caroline will. Harry cares about Caroline getting better and coming home.

“Of course, Mr. Styles. Caroline can have visitors, now, and you can see her, stay with her, too. Caroline is dehydrated, mainly, and malnourished from not eating for a week, so she’s hooked up to a lot of machines, just so you’re aware,” the nurse says smoothly and calmly, checking her notes on her clipboard and reading technical terms that Harry can’t seem to grasp or understand. “Caroline is not suicidal, though. Truthfully, that’s what counts, right now. That’s what everyone cares about.”

Caroline sat in the hospital bed when Harry walks inside with the nurse, with wires clinging to her body, nibbling on a sandwich while he walks right to her and sits at her bedside. Harry swears that he won’t be able to handle seeing her like this, again. Harry wants to be sick just thinking about it. Caroline, naturally, makes a joke about the hospital socks, saying, “My third pair of hospital socks and they’ve finally given me something other than that hideous orange color. Oh, the joys of London Town!”

“Callie,” Harry sighs, shaking his head and breathes out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he leans onto the bed and kisses her forehead as she clicks her heels together in the baby blue sticky socks underneath the blanket and makes the wish for the two to be home, in the comfort of their own bed. Harry thought he couldn’t stay, that he wasn’t allowed, and that killed him, to know that she would be alone in a room by herself, having to sit alone with her thoughts for days. Thankfully, that’s simply not the case, tonight. He doesn’t think he could have handled being alone, tonight, anyways. Not after what he saw. “Callie, you scared the living shit out of me.”

Caroline sets her sandwich on the tray, wipes her hands on her napkin, and opens her blanket. reaching for Harry with wide arms, smiling softly when Harry immediately rushes towards her and circles his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly and breathing in her scent. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that to me, again,” Harry says strictly, sternly, his eyes welling with tears as his fingers gently brush over her cheek and his lips meet her forehead softly. “Caroline, I need you to take this seriously, okay? Baby, you didn’t eat for nearly two weeks.”

Caroline whispers something in Harry’s ear, something that he can’t really understand, and he brushes it away, simply going back to holding her tightly and breathing in the sweet apple scent that lingers in her hair. Harry assumes it was something of another apology, which isn’t something he really wants, per se, it’s more the fact that she didn’t tell him, that she didn’t reach out to him. Harry knows why, and he feels guilty, so guilty.

Caroline doesn’t like bothering Harry when he’s doing business; especially not business that involves moving Shakespeare’s Library to elsewhere in the United Kingdom and would be a great investment opportunity. Caroline doesn’t like being the reason Harry can’t focus – unless it’s for ulterior motives – and the fact of the matter is, Harry wouldn’t have gone away on business if he knew Caroline was about to face an episode like she is, right now. Caroline and Harry both know that much.

Harry, then, feels incredibly guilty when something of the sort happens, because not only did he not know, but he wasn’t there to fix it. Harry likes to fix it.

“Callie, what happened that made you do this?” Harry wracks his brain trying to find a reason because Caroline was so good before he left. Caroline was writing and eating and functioning before he was set to leave; something must’ve happened in the day that he was flying and settling in that made her break. “What triggered it, Callie? I know something did. I wouldn’t have left you alone if I knew you were in an episode, like that. That’s not how we do things; you’re supposed to tell me. I’m supposed to be there for you, Cal.”

“Harry, it wasn’t anything.”

“Caroline Elizabeth Ryan.” Harry never uses Caroline’s whole name like that. That’s when it occurs to Caroline how poorly Harry is dealing with this, right now. Caroline, usually, only has to worry about how she is dealing with her episodes, she’s nearly forgotten there’s a whole other person on the receiving end, now, a person she loves very deeply. “Does it have to do with your mother? Is Lucy why you’re in here? ‘Cause I swear to God, Callie, I’ll march myself to wherever she has and have a kindly chat with her.”

“My mother has nothing to do with this,” Caroline says through her teeth, and Harry can tell that she’s lying. Caroline’s tell, her quirk, so to speak, is that fact that her jaw clenches tightly and she has to speak through her teeth whenever she’s lying. Caroline doesn’t lie to Harry – it’s one of their boundaries – and it’s easy for him to tell when she is. Harry tilts his head, his eyes pointing at her directly and his lips pursed together in a straight line, his expression saying everything that he isn’t. “Can we talk about this later? I’m exhausted and I missed you. I can hear that you’re angry with me, too. I don’t like that you’re angry, with me, right now.”

“Caroline,” Harry says calmly, sighing out a breath between his lips, shaking his head and sitting on the corner of the makeshift mattress that the hospital has laid her on, “not this time, okay. Can’t, you can’t shy away from this conversation, this time.”

“I’m not ready to have this conversation, Harry.”

Harry’s voice breaks, the tears beginning to fall down his cheeks again and the pain collecting in his throat, the lump that he swallowed down when he walked into the hospital room now resurfacing and bringing the tears to his eyes. “Callie, tell me. This isn’t something to run away from.”

“My mother,” Caroline swallows thickly, her eyes welling with tears at the thought, shaking her head to try and shake the incessant, nagging feeling that she’s going to cry, “she, um, sent me a letter in the mail. It came the day you left.”

“And what did it say, Cal?” That’s what makes Caroline break into hysterics, the six words making tears pour down her cheeks, her chest heaving with shaky breaths, her hands covering her face with her fingertips digging into her eyes, trying to hide the tiny markings her nails are leaving in her face. Harry gently pries her hands away, kissing her fingers and scooting closer to her body, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly. “Baby, tell me.”

Caroline sucks a breath in through her teeth and hurriedly says, “My mother is back in the country with her mother and would appreciate it if, even though we live only a few hours away, I wouldn’t contact her anymore. Lucy said that it’s great that I’m doing well and have my life together, that she’s happy for me, but she would prefer to not have any contact with me.” Harry kisses Caroline’s knuckles and gently wipes at her eyes, the wires getting tangled in their hands. “Harry, why doesn’t she want me?”

“Callie, baby,” Harry sighs, sliding himself closer and wrapping his arms around her shoulders, bringing her into his chest, her face tucking into his neck and immediately wetting his shirt with her tears. Harry doesn’t mind it, he would rather have her crying in his arms than see her unconscious in their bedroom, again. “I’m sorry your mother is so horrible to you. I’m so sorry.”

“All I want is for her to want me, Harry,” Caroline sniffles, shaking her head and feeling done with the conversation, taking her hands from her thighs and wiping her eyes, sighing into Harry’s neck and kissing his skin lightly for comfort. “Kiss? Could really use one, right about now.”

“Always, love. My Buggy.” Harry smiles softly and nudges Caroline’s face with his nose, his lips laying a kiss on her cheek and waiting for her to tilt her head slightly towards him to kiss her mouth. His mouth moves slowly on hers, kissing her sweetly and gently, as though a slightly harsh touch could leave her bruised and bandaged. “Callie, you mean everything to me. More than you’ll ever know.”

“Can’t be more than what you mean to me.” Caroline shakes her head in disapproval. “Hate that you still call me ‘Buggy’, as though I’m still a nuisance, to you, though,” she says, and he laughs breathily, at that, because it’s not the reason he calls her that, now, but it was. Oh God, Harry thought Caroline was such an annoyance when they first met. “Hard to believe I used to hate your guts,” Caroline giggles, tucking her chin to her chest and spinning her engagement ring on her finger, the tiny diamond sitting perfectly on her hand. Harry hates how small it is, but it’s Caroline’s favorite jewellery she’s ever owned. “Oh boy, the hate I had for you. I could’ve beat you up, Harry Styles.”

“Caroline Ryan, all you would’ve done is start to cry.” Harry shakes his head. “Barely a punch to the jaw, which I would’ve deserved, by the way, and you would’ve been in tears. I love you for it, but you wouldn’t handle that very well.”

“Hey!” Harry laughs for the first time in hours, a hearty laugh, a laugh that makes Caroline’s heart swell in her chest and feel like it’s going to burst with how much she loves him. God, Caroline really loves Harry. Like, wholeheartedly in love with him, type of love. “I could’ve done it. I could’ve done it, without crying. Maybe a little stutter-stepping, but I could’ve done it.”

“All right, all right,” Harry sighs, leaning forward and kissing her forehead, lingering on her skin to breathe her in, his eyes squeezing shut when she grabs his cheeks and kisses his mouth, once more. “Have all those tests and meetings with the doctors, tomorrow, and you need your rest.”

Caroline’s eyes go wide. “Can you stay? Do you have to go?”

“I’ll be right there, all night,” he says, pointing towards the makeshift lounger in the corner of the room with blankets and a pillow laying on the cushion. “Callie, I promised you ages ago, I’m not going anywhere.”

Caroline sighs, nodding quietly and pursing her lips together. Harry’s words are true, she knows this with her whole heart, but there is the angry and subconscious part of her brain that tells her that Gabriel Ryan said that, too. Her father said that, too. Caroline swallows a lump in her throat, breathing through her nose and shoving her tray of food away from her, suddenly feeling exhausted and mentally drained. Maybe it was the conversation about her mother, maybe it was the promise that her father broke, maybe it is the idea that Harry is there and no one else cares. Maybe it’s everything all at once making Caroline feel so utterly tired, but her eyes are beginning to shut against her cheeks and her heart rate is beginning to slow. Harry can see that she’s finished by her quiet actions, kissing her cheek and gently moving from the mattress to the lounger, looking at Caroline with concerned eyes as she turns onto her side and yanks the blanket closer around her neck.

“Goodnight, Bug. I love you,” Harry whispers, kissing her forehead and sighing against her skin as she nods her head. Harry can see the depression oncoming, the confession of her mother’s letter and the promise that her father broke lingering in the air. Caroline is great at putting on a façade around everyone else, but with Harry, it’s barely functioning. “Things are going to get better, Callie. Do you trust me?” Caroline nods silently, tears welling in her eyes and beginning to fall down her cheeks. Harry walks to the lounger, cranking the lever and turning out the recliner to lay on for the evening. Caroline’s voice draws his attention, turning away from his bed and listening to her carefully. “Say that one more time, for me, Cal?”

“Can you read me some of your poetry?” she whispers, the lights barely illuminating her eyes that he adores so much. Caroline doesn’t turn around, remaining facing the doorway and listening carefully. “Maybe from when we didn’t like each other so much. Tell me that things get better.”

Harry smiles softly, taking his leather notebook – the one that he carries with him everywhere – and opening to the first page written with an indented ‘C’ in the header. “This is from the day I was late to our very first annotations meeting.”

Caroline giggles, sniffling quietly and then says, “Oh, I was infuriated with you, that day. God, I asked Rigsby for a new annotation partner, too. Think I told you that I hope you never fall in love with someone like me.”

“That’s absolutely correct,” Harry laughs, shaking his head at the memory. Meeting Caroline and the very first few months of knowing her were so difficult, Harry thought they’d never get along. Harry made it a challenge for himself, to have Caroline like him, even the slightest bit, and that started his fascination and infatuation with her; the one that made him fall in love with her. “Are you ready, love?”

Caroline sucks in a breath and rolls to her side, her eyelashes wet against her cheeks as she stares at Harry adoringly, forcing a smile and swallowing back a choked sob as she notices how fully written in this notebook is, how many pages are marked and colored and decorated in intricate drawings that represent the poetry he’s scribbled in his writing. Caroline notices the ‘C’ imprinted in the front of the notebook, and that’s when she realizes. “Have you moved every poem about me into that notebook, Shakespeare?”

“Maybe.”

Caroline nods silently, sucking in a breath through her nose and snuggling deeper into the sheets on the mattress, smiling softly at the man laying across from her, ready to read his poetry. “Okay.”

Harry dramatically clears his throat, smiling softly at Caroline, his fingertip holding the page where the poetry begins on the day, they met alone for the very first time. “you told me that you never fall in love // that it’s too dangerous, too risky // and i have begun to wonder // that if love is too risky // what is it that makes you feel safe.”

Caroline waits at the coffee shop for nearly three hours without a show from Harry.

Having three coffees and one muffin and about three hours of gearing up to even come to the coffee shop alone, Caroline is fed up and ready to leave. That is until, the floppy tendrils of curls show up rushing through the door at a near four in the afternoon, sputtering apologies as he flops his things on the spare chair at the table and hurries to the counter to buy himself a drink. He looks dishevelled, as though he’s woken up only minutes ago and hurried here, and part of Caroline wants to feel sorry for him that he’s slept until two in the afternoon, most likely, and forgotten.

That part of Caroline is very small, though.

“Caroline, I’m so sorry,” Harry says hurriedly, brushing through his hair and taking a seat at the table and pulling out his notebook and his computer and textbook with the play written inside. “I overslept. I was working on this poetry assignment, all night. Not trying to make an excuse. This was our plan all week. I’m sorry.”

“Let’s just get started. Our discussions are due in less than,” Caroline says distractedly, looking at her phone for the time, “six hours.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry says embarrassedly, his cheeks turning red beneath the softened lights of the coffee shop, his hands slightly shaking as he was rushing to get himself together, his papers scattered in his notebook. “Have you annotated anything, yet? Obviously, there are my annotations that you can copy, if you need them.”

Caroline laughs, shaking her head and letting out a frustrated laugh, “Harry, that’s, um, nice, I think.” Her eyes are squinted as she stares at him, and then she turns to her textbook and opens to the first act of the play. “But, in the three hours I was waiting for you, I finished the entire first act. I’m ready for the discussion. Could do that, we could do that, and then leave, if you’d like. Obviously, you have more important things to be doing.”

Harry looks awfully embarrassed and there is a sudden boost of confidence that Caroline feels around him. Usually, Harry is the one with the chip on his shoulder, with the one-up on the partners that he’s working with, especially women. Harry has his looks, his charm, and occasionally – if he’s using it well enough – his intelligence. Harry’s poetry usually wins over the women and men he works with, the inspiration that strikes when he’s working with someone that is smarter, brighter, more intelligent than he is, bringing him closer and closer to finishing his poetry collection that he’s been working since his acceptance into the graduate program. Coming into his fourth section of poetry, Harry’s found himself writing about love and love stories and romance since the day he started his portfolio, and yet he’s missing an entire section about unrequited love.

That is more frustrating than anything, Harry’s found.

“Um, sure,” Harry sighs, letting out a heavy breath and raising his hand to the waiter that’s walking near their table, ordering a black coffee and a muffin before settling into his seat, once more, and opening to the page that the discussion post is referring to. “Okay, well, this discussion post is asking about the difference between infatuation and love between Orsino and Viola and Olivia, in Act One.” Harry looks between Caroline and their notebooks and their textbooks and says, “There isn’t one, really.”

“Did you just say there isn’t a difference?” Caroline asks astonishedly, shaking her head and setting her pen in her notebook and shutting her computer halfway. “Orsino is practically tripping over himself for Olivia, and Olivia is falling for Cesario, or Viola playing pretend to get into the palace and find her brother. All of it is infatuation. Orsino’s entire claim for love is based on his infatuation with Olivia.”

“Tell me something,” he says smoothly, nodding his head to the waitress bringing his coffee and his muffin and thanking her quietly before turning to Caroline and squinting his eyes. “Do you not believe that love is partially based on infatuation? Isn’t that how you fall in love? By becoming infatuated with someone, with something. Do you not believe in love at all?”

Caroline sits back in her seat, very well aware of the judgement being passed to her in this very moment, and is slightly insulted by his insinuation, his implication. “Look, Harry, whatever personal judgements I have on love and falling in love are truthfully none of your business. At the end of the day, love is risky and dangerous. Anyone that willingly falls in love is a fool.”

“That’s bloody depressing,” Harry says with a scowl, shaking his head and brushing his fingers through his hair, pushing the floppy tendrils away from his forehead and revealing his bright green eyes that suddenly feel intimidating to the look. “I love love, I think. I think there’s something so fun about wanting to be partners with somebody, wanting to be by their side through thick and thin. That’s what makes life exciting. Doing it with another person.”

“Happy for you,” Caroline notes sarcastically, shrugging her shoulders and beginning to write out her discussion post on her computer, completely ignoring Harry’s pointed stare and the judgement passing through his emerald eyes. “Love isn’t safe. This story proves that. Could you imagine falling in love with someone, only to realize they’re not really that person? That would be devastating.”

Harry uncaps his highlighter and pen and begins annotating the remaining sections of the play’s act, ignoring Caroline’s harsh judgements and words. “Guess that’s how you feel but it’s wrong,” he says under his breath, writing carefully his thoughts about the obsession between Olivia and Orsino and Cesario. “At the end of the day, everyone wants to find love in their life. Obviously, you want your love to be requited, but if it’s not, at least you experienced love in some capacity, yeah?”

Caroline doesn’t pick up her head from her computer screen, not bothering to even engage in the conversation with him. Caroline’s barely known Harry for a week, barely spoken to him for more than an hour, and she already heavily dislikes him. “Not particularly.”

“Look Caroline –” Harry goes to say, his eyes growing wide when Caroline cuts him off nearly immediately, shocking him out of his words for a minute.

“Callie, for the umpteenth time. Liv already told you that, I’m sure.”

Harry looks at Caroline with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, tilting his head slightly and gathering his thoughts before speaking, again. “Callie, I’m not sure what your problem with me is, considering we just met, but–”

Caroline cracks her fingers, sucks in a breath through her teeth and says all in one outburst, “My problem with you, is that you’re not taking this seriously, unlike me, and you’re pretentious and think you’re the best at everything. That is not how you make a first impression and to put it simply, you’ve made the worst one upon me.”

Harry’s mouth clamps shut, his jaw tensing and un-tensing as he breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, trying to remain composed and not act as though this conversation is absurdly hurting his ego. Harry’s ego is something that he built up so much over time, that it seemed impossible for anyone to tear it down, and yet here she comes, all in one break, destroying his egotistical demeanor. He is good at whatever he works on, the annotations, the poetry, the writing. His confidence is based on the boosts from professors and family and friends always building up his abilities and saying how capable he is to be someone, to be a writer.

And Harry is pissed, pissed that someone that is a bit too insecure themselves, that uses their mental health as a way to treat other people poorly, that wants to say he doesn’t take his education seriously, is trying to make him insecure about himself, too.

“If that’s how you feel,” Harry says, very much insulted by her statement and trying to formulate a response that is worthy to make it known how he feels about everything, “then I’m willing to speak to Rigsby about switching partners. Although, I think it’s unfair that you’ve passed a judgement about me so quickly when I’ve barely made a judgement about you.”

“Okay, Harry. Truthfully, Liv already told me what you said about me that first day I met you. You made judgements about me before we’d even sat down together, alone. That only supports my judgement about you, doesn’t it? That you’re an egotistical, pretentious person that quickly judges others that aren’t like you.”

“Caroline, the only thing that I’ve judged you on is the fact that you use your mental health or whatever the hell it is that you use to gain sympathy from other people. Especially your friends.”

Quickly standing up, she gathers her things and shoves her computer into her backpack, laying her hands on the table and gritting her teeth so hard it looks like her jaw might actually break. Caroline stares Harry down, making him slightly uncomfortable with how hard she’s looking at him. “Harry Styles, you don’t know anything about me or my mental health or my friends. Quite honestly, it’s people like you, that make people like me, not talk about my mental health with others. Maybe you should thank whatever the fuck you believe in that you don’t have to handle mental health issues. And I hope to God that you never fall in love with someone that wakes up with a brain like mine every, single, fucking day because you’ll ruin their life with how lowly you think of them.” Caroline gathers her belongings and hurries out the door, the wind brushing against her cheeks and whipping against her heated skin. Her fists are clenched together in tight coils of anger, one hand releasing from the tight ball and reaching into her bag for her car keys, quickly unlocking her tiny, navy blue sedan and throwing her backpack into the passenger seat and immediately walking around to climb into the driver’s seat.

Harry is speechless, absolutely and utterly speechless, and unable to stand up and say something properly to defend himself before she’s rushing out the door. “Caroline, wait!” Harry pushes his chair out from beneath him, stumbling around the fallen wood and drawing plenty of eyes to his distraught figure as he hurriedly rushes out of the building and into the parking lot where Caroline is spilling expletives with all of her belongings scattered on the ground. “Caroline, wait for a second!” Caroline doesn’t wait, continuing to try and gather all of her things and shove them into her bag but the material is wrapped together and making it difficult and there are tears welling in her eyes as she drops everything frustratedly and sits back on the tarmac in absolute frustration. “Caroline.”

“Harry, what do you want from me?” Caroline takes a deep breath, gathering all of her things, throwing her bag in the passenger seat of her truck and climbing inside, trying to ignore the silence that overwhelms the two of them as they stand there staring at each other. Caroline can feel a tear fall down her cheek in betrayal, the last thing she wanted was to cry in front of him.

“I,” Harry is quiet, unable to fully make a sentence and spit out a coherent thought. “I’m sorry for what I said. I, I didn’t mean it. That was wrong of me to say. Rigsby wanted us to work together because we’re the best students in that class and likely have a few things in common when it comes to working with literature. I need to graduate in May, too. Can you please give me a second chance? I swear I won’t make you regret it.”

Caroline looks at Harry and looks at her white knuckles clutching the steering wheel, the little crescents starting to form in the cushion of the wheel. Guess it’s better that it’s the wheel rather than my thighs, she thinks. There is so much harm that could come from being Harry Styles’ partner, Caroline’s decided. Harry Styles doesn’t understand her mental health, firstly, and he likely never will, based on his reactions and interaction in the first conversations and dialogues they’ve shared. Harry Styles is pretentious and rude, secondly. Harry Styles, thirdly, thinks he’s the very best thing to walk the planet and knowing Caroline’s father, that would be the furthest thing from the truth.

“Honestly, Harry, I can’t,” Caroline says truthfully, shaking her head and grabbing the gear to shift into reverse and back out of the parking lot, Harry quickly moving his feet to avoid being run over with the impatience she’s exhibiting. “I’ll be talking to Rigsby on Monday about a new partner.”

* *

Caroline is angry. Angry is the only way to describe the way she feels, right now. Angry, specifically, with a man by the name of Harry Styles.

Donald Rigsby refused to change their annotation partner, insisting that Harry Styles would make the best pairing for the intensity of the course load that they would be doing throughout the semester. Donald Rigsby said, and Caroline could quote, “Harry Styles is a charming young man that is an excellent writer and I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding.” Caroline wanted to roll her eyes, to tell him that he’s an asshole that doesn’t understand empathy of any sort. Caroline wanted to say so many things, and instead, she nodded her head silently, forced that famous smile that everyone knows and loves, and walked out of his office with a slight stomp to her feet.

Caroline immediately grabbed her phone and wrote a very calculated worded email to Harry Styles, saying:

Harry,

Unfortunately, and though I tried to talk him out of it, Rigsby has insisted on us being partners, for some reason unbeknownst to me. He has expressed his opinion thoroughly about the topic and would like to not hear further about it. He believes that we will make a great team working on annotating Shakespeare’s texts, based on our work ethic and our talent as writers. Although this is not what I would have wished for, I am hoping for the best, as we both have to graduate at the end of the year, and very much need this course to pass our degrees. I am sending this email as an offering of peace for the time being until we can meet again.

I am free again on Saturday for another annotation meeting for the second act of the play. Is that time going to work for you? Let me know as soon as possible. Thank you.

Callie Ryan

Caroline waits two days for a response from Harry. Two. Whole. Days. Caroline waits for two days, and the only response that she gets is infuriating, absolutely maddening, totally and completely frustrating.

All Harry says is this:

Caroline,

Apology accepted. See you on Saturday.

Harry x

Apology accepted? Apology accepted? Is Harry so dense in that thick skull of his that he thinks that Caroline was apologizing for what she said to him? Absolutely fucking not. Caroline would never apologize for what she said. Caroline wouldn’t apologize for saying that she hopes Harry never falls in love with someone like her, especially. Caroline meant all of it, every single word, from the beginning to the end. Adding onto the fact that she meant all of it, it is her best commentary to this day.

Caroline walks out of her shift at the local bookstore with steam whistling from her ears, her eyes reading over the email again and again, silently wishing that she’ll look at the screen of her phone once more, on the off chance that she clicked the wrong email and it’s not actually what was sent to her. Harry couldn’t be that ridiculous, right?

There isn’t any way that anyone can be that pretentious and uptight. There simply can’t be. Caroline refuses to believe it.

* *

Caroline waits at the coffee shop for nearly six hours, on the day of their meeting, waiting for Harry. Maybe a bit less than that. Maybe a bit less than that because it took her three hours to gear up to meet him with her anxiety and the episode she’s been suffering through. Caroline struggled to get out of bed, to even make it to her car, barely functioning to brush her teeth and thread her fingers through her hair. Her hair has been tangled in a braid for three days, and it’s beginning to look a bit dishevelled, although she has run water through the baby hairs flying around her forehead.

Caroline’s medicine is all out of whack. Originally, it was working for a while, making sure the episodes were manageable and taken care of throughout each stint of the rollercoaster, the lights on and lights off as she’s called it since the earliest age of twelve. However, now, it’s like the medicine isn’t even doing anything to her system, and she’s hitting the highest highs and the lowest lows for weeks without any remorse. Caroline can handle it usually, but with the stress of her father’s anniversary coming in October, the horrible partner she’s been assigned in her annotations course, and the overall overwhelming sensation of graduation lingering around the corner, there’s a bit too much to be able to handle the highs and lows every two weeks.

Caroline is in a Lights Off week.

Caroline can tolerate a lot. Making that clear to people is something that she prides herself on. Caroline can tolerate most things: running late, cancelling, having to reschedule because of a conflict of some sort. Caroline cannot tolerate skipping a meeting entirely … without any warning.

Harry doesn’t show one hour, two hours, three hours, four hours later.

Caroline checks her email twice, maybe even three times to see whether or not he’s emailed her last minute to say that he couldn’t come. Nothing. Not a word from Harry Styles.

Caroline waits around for another hour waiting for Harry, completing the annotations for Act II of The Twelfth Night and finishing the “Act II Discussion” Rigsby posted online earlier that week. Hatred and anger rush through her veins as she thinks about how this should’ve been done with her “partner”, today, and the way that he’s not even had the courtesy to tell her that he had to cancel their meeting and do the work on his own. Caroline gathers her belongings, taking out her phone and dialling her best friend’s number, ready to rant and rave about this person that she’s being encouraged and more so, forced, into talking to daily, that clearly doesn’t respect her or her boundaries for working environments. That may be what makes Caroline even more angry. Harry doesn’t respect her. If Harry does respect her, he surely doesn’t know how to show it.

Caroline clicks on Liv’s number, tucking the phone in between her shoulder and her ear, and gathering her things to take to her car, waving goodbye to the workers that know her by name and shuffling to her vehicle parked in the very first space outside. Caroline makes everything a habit, from where she frequents to the minuscule habits that only a boyfriend or girlfriend could catch onto, like the way she washes her hands twice before dinner and compulsively types her notes on her computer to avoid rewriting after lectures. Caroline is comfortable with her life, with how she lives it, and she isn’t going to let one person get in the way of the peace that she’s brought to her life over the last year without her father around, a feeling of tranquillity that he would have wanted for her.

“Hey, Callie. How’s it going?” Liv says when she answers the phone, a smile evident in her voice and Caroline can only assume she’s with her significant other by the extra voices in the background. “Did you finish your annotations?”

“Of course. Guess who didn’t fucking show, again?” Caroline grumbles, climbing into her car and waiting for the phone to connect to the speaker for her to leave safely. Caroline shakes her head angrily, the utter disappointment and upset building inside of her chest making her want to scream and cry. Could someone really be this insensitive to someone else? Could Harry really be this ridiculous? Donald Rigsby is wrong about Harry Styles. Very wrong. “Things would be fine, I would be fine, if I wasn’t losing my fucking mind over the workload for this class,” she continues, shaking her head and carding her fingers through her hair frustratedly. “I don’t understand how anyone could be so insensitive towards others. It’s absolutely fucking ridiculous. I can’t stand him, Liv. I don’t care what Rigsby has to say about him. I think Harry Styles is the worst person on the planet.”

“Callie,” Liv says softly, warningly, almost and it makes Caroline go silent. Caroline knows what Liv is about to say and she is simply praying that she wasn’t on speaker phone. “Callie, Harry’s here with Niall.” Caroline goes deathly silent, now. Liv walks out of the room, eyeing Harry apologetically, and making her way into her bedroom to talk to her best friend and hopefully calm her down before she comes home. “Cal, Harry was here because he broke up with his girlfriend and needed to talk to Niall.”

“Harry could’ve messaged me,” Caroline mumbles, closing her eyes momentarily and soaking in the silence that overwhelms her car, the moment of silence where her brain is finally quiet and there is nothing to be heard from anyone. Caroline knows it won’t last long. Caroline’s brain is never nice to her for very long.

“Harry says you didn’t give him your number, only your email.”

“Well, yeah. Why would I give a stranger my phone number, Liv?” Caroline sighs, turning into the car park and grumbling when she sees a vintage car parked in her space. Caroline doesn’t need to know anything about anyone to know that a pretentious asshole would have a car, like that. Most certainly it’s Harry’s. “Motherfucker parked in my space, now, too. God damnit!”

“Callie, are you okay?”

“Fine, Liv,” Caroline breathes out, pinching the bridge of her nose and leaning her head back on the headrest behind her. Momentarily, Caroline makes the decision that she’ll take herself to her boyfriend’s house for the week, not really wanting to be around her best friend and his boyfriend and the subsequent asshole that is making himself known around their apartment. “Think I’m going to go to Max’s for the week, this way you and Niall can have the apartment. Getting my things from my car and then I’ll come and get my things.”

“Don’t have to do that, Callie,” Liv sighs, heaving a heavy breath into the speaker and pursing her lips together, trying to find a way to relieve her best friend’s anxiety and the tension creating itself in their conversation as they continue to speak. Caroline always gets angry so easily when her mood is like this, and Liv knows why, she’s not angry over it, she knows what she’s done to make her best friend so frustrated with her and the situation at hand. “I’ll kick Harry out if he makes you uncomfortable, Cal.”

“Olivia,” she says, shaking her head and turning off her car, opening the driver’s door and stepping out onto the concrete, “it’s fine.”

Caroline walks up the steps to their apartment and opens the door quietly, trying to make as little noise and draw as little attention to herself as possible. Harry is standing in the kitchen, laughing with Niall about something unrelated and turns to look at Caroline, his eyes widening at the way she immediately walks straight past him, nudging his shoulder along the way, and to her bedroom to start gathering her belongings that she’ll need to take with her to her boyfriend’s house.

“Caroline,” Harry says, earning a smack to the arm from Niall and a deathly look from Liv. Harry doesn’t care what they say, her name is Caroline, that’s what he’s going to call her. “Can we talk outside?”

Caroline looks at Harry questioningly, her eyebrows coming together in the center of her forehead as she contemplates telling him off right then and there. Harry has an ego bigger than his head, the privilege that exudes from the way he views mental health making her skin crawl with disgust, and an attitude that extends much further than what Caroline could rightfully handle. Could anything good come from a conversation with Harry? Likely not. Has Caroline impulsively decided that this conversation can be her time to tell Harry to go to hell? Yes.

Harry walks outside first, holding the door open and waiting for Caroline to lay her things on the tile flooring near the front door and follow him outside. Harry’s eyes travel across the expanse of her figure, and he’s well aware that it’s wrong, and that she has a boyfriend, but there is something about her that he can’t get his mind to wrap around, that he has an infatuation with.

Anna Marie and Harry broke up this afternoon. That’s the whole reason that Harry came to Liv and Niall, in the first place, to tell them that she’s gone, and they wouldn’t have to deal with her anymore. Niall cheered and Liv smiled knowingly, telling him that Callie and Max were still very much together. Harry assured her that that wasn’t the reason why that he had no intentions of pursuing Caroline, but Liv knows better. Liv knows boys better than that. Harry just shrugged her off and went about his conversation with Niall, talking about the way Anna Marie insisted she was breaking up with him, instead. Harry let her have her way, as long as it meant he wasn’t with her anymore. Could that be considered something that an asshole would do? Likely so. Did Harry care all that much? Not really.

Caroline nods in a halfway ‘thank you’ at Harry as the apartment shuts behind her, knowing fully well that Liv and Niall are waiting on the other side to hear what they have to say to each other. Caroline ignores it, knowing that she’ll get an earful from her best friend whenever they have time alone for being too harsh or mean to her boyfriend’s best friend. Caroline shakes her head at the notion, thinking to herself how ridiculous the whole situation is.

If Harry had just shown up on time, showed a little bit of respect, maybe respected other people’s boundaries, then this wouldn’t be happening. This wouldn’t be a conversation that they have to have. Caroline wouldn’t hate him the way she does.

“Okay,” Harry starts, shrugging his shoulders and leaning against the railing so that his shirt tightens against his chest and the muscles in his arms are on perfect display. If Caroline found him attractive, maybe this would distract her, cause her mouth to go dry and her comebacks to weaken. Good thing it isn’t that way. “Caroline, you think of me as the worst person on the planet?”

“I do, yeah,” Caroline states flatly, leaning against the door and trying to keep her eyes on his. Maintaining eye contact has never been one of Caroline’s strong suits and doing so when she’s obscenely angry is certainly not making it any easier. “Harry, you’re kind of a piece of shit.”

“All this anger because I missed an annotation meeting, and I didn’t tell you?” Harry sounds like he’s mocking her and it’s making Caroline even more angry than she already is. Gabriel Ryan would never tolerate this behavior. “Is that really it, love? Is this something more going on?”

“Don’t ‘love’ me, with your accent, and try and patronize me,” Caroline says through clenched teeth, shaking her head and crossing her arms over her chest to add to her frustrated nature. “That was just icing on the cake, Harry. I really don’t like you.”

“That’s such a shame, innit? ‘Cause I like you.”

“Harry, you don’t even know me!” Caroline is so frustrated she thinks she might cry, tears beginning to gloss over her honey eyes and make her vision blurry. “God, you’re just some privileged guy in my literature class. That’s all you are! Honestly, nothing I say will get through to you! This whole conversation is pointless and useless and a waste of my fucking time!”

“Have you gotten it all out, now, Caroline?” Harry teases, clutching the door handle that Caroline reaches for, blocking her into the door and hovering over her face, his lips merely inches from her mouth, teasing the way her plump flesh entices him for only a second. “Have only one idea on how or what we’re going to do about it to make it better, Caroline. Kiss?”

“Hah! Over my dead body, Harry Styles. Only in your wildest dreams would I ever kiss you.” Caroline slinks beneath Harry’s arms blockading her in and opens the door, frustratedly grabbing her belongings and making her way out of the apartment. “Bye, Liv. Bye, Niall. I’ll see you later.”

“Caroline,” Harry says calmly, reaching for her wrist and grabbing her gently, taking her hand in his and trying to have her attention for more than a moment. Caroline immediately flings her hand out of his and reaches for the keys to her truck. “Meeting this week, maybe? Can get some work done earlier than the weekend if you’d like. I don’t have anything tying me down, now.”

“Harry Styles, you and I are no longer working together. Get this through your thick head. I’m not working with you. I’m not speaking to you. Rigsby never has to know that we didn’t work together. I’ll lie. I don’t want to see you. That’s it. End of story.”

Home.

Home is where many things happen for Caroline and Harry. Home is where Caroline and Harry sing and dance in their kitchen at three in the morning when Caroline is wide awake and needing to be distracted from the intrusive thoughts that are overwhelming her brain. Home is where Harry started his business ventures. Home is where Caroline started writing her novel. Home is where Caroline and Harry kiss beneath the sheets and touch each other intimately and know their way around each other’s bodies, caressing and touching in the most loving way. Home is where the heart is, they say, and that would be true in Caroline’s case.

Harry is home, wherever they are.

Caroline looks at Harry with tears in her eyes, drawing the covers back and gesturing for him to lay in the tiny makeshift bed with her, ignoring the shaking of his head and smirking at the way he sighs and gives in, pushing himself out of the lounger and walking over to her with his notebook in hand, knowing well enough by now that she’ll want him to continue to read to her until she’s sleeping and unable to listen any longer. Her legs are stretched out over his thighs, her cheek laying on his stomach, smiling at the slight pudge that’s accumulated there since they started cooking more meals at home with the bookstore right beneath them. Caroline’s arms circle around his waist, not caring whether or not her arm will fall asleep in the middle of the night or not, and his hands intertwine themselves in her hair, brushing through the straight locks soothingly. His touch is gentle, nurturing, and Caroline suddenly is reminded of when her father used to do the same thing to her when she would have a nightmare or couldn’t sleep.

Harry is like Gabriel in a lot of ways, Caroline recognizes. Maybe, just maybe, that’s why she’s fallen so head over heels in love with him. Caroline never thought she would find a man as good as her father, previous relationships included, and yet, here she is, with one right by her side. Harry is patient and kind, loyal and generous. Harry understands her mental health and never blames her for an episode, good or bad. Harry works with her, and makes sure that she knows that he’s there, no matter what the reason may be. Caroline searched high and low for someone like him, someone that would accept her for the way she is, and even in previous relationships, she never found someone to do it as unconditionally as Harry has. Caroline will be forever grateful for the way they met, although not particularly ideal, because it meant that they met at all.

“Thought you’d be asleep by now, baby,” Harry says softly, brushing his fingers through her hair and kissing her head. “I can read more if you’d like. Do you want to talk instead? Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Caroline’s fingers trace over the pattern on Harry’s shirt mindlessly, the speckled design on the shirt making her frown, realizing that he never had the opportunity to change when he came home. All because of how Harry found Caroline – unconscious in their bedroom. Lying on the floor by their bedside, with her eyes shut and her lips slightly parted. Harry is in his airport clothes, likely reliving the trauma that she’s given him for the rest of his very life.

“Callie,” he says sweetly, taking her attention away from the shirt by lifting her chin and making her eyes meet his, “you don’t have to worry about me. I’m okay.”

“Harry, I should’ve called and told you. I thought I could handle it on my own, that it wouldn’t bother me because there have been so many other times where she rejected me. This time, though, it broke me.” Harry can feel the tears from Caroline’s face soaking into his shirt and trousers and he doesn’t say a word, only turns his body slightly so he’s facing her, and his thumbs can wipe away the tears recklessly falling down her cheeks. “I don’t understand what I did to make her not want me, Harry. All I ever did was be myself. That was too much for her? Am I too much?”

“Never,” Harry says, shaking his head adamantly and pressing his thumb to where her eyebrows have furrowed together and gently rubbing across her skin, kissing her forehead soothingly and lingering there for good measure. “Lucy has a very British way of thinking, Cal. That’s not a great thing when it comes to mental health and all that. Hell, I had a very British way of thinking, at first. There’s a reason we didn’t get along. There’s a reason my friends wouldn’t share things like that with me.” Harry looks at Caroline sincerely and says, “Until I met you.”

Caroline doesn’t say anything for a minute, and Harry thinks that she’s finally fallen asleep. Until an audible breath echoes through the quiet room and Harry looks to see Caroline beginning to wipe tears from her cheeks, once more. “Do you think that we should postpone the wedding? Until I’m better? I’ll understand if you want to delay the wedding, Harry.”

“Caroline Elizabeth,” Harry breathes, shaking his head frustratedly and sighing as he delicately grabs Caroline’s chin and brings her face to meet his. Harry’s thought about delaying the wedding. Of course, Harry has. Although, it’s certainly not because of what Caroline thinks. Harry’s worried that she’ll have another episode in the meantime and want to cancel the wedding altogether while they’re trying to make final preparations and there will be nothing that he can do to change her mind. “I’m marrying you in three months. That’s final. I don’t want to hear another word about it from you. I’m marrying you, I’ve been wanting to marry you, and I’m ready to marry you. Okay, Cal?”

“Okay.”

Harry sighs and kisses her forehead soothingly, gently scratching at her head and kissing a line from her forehead to her nose to her mouth. “I love you, Caroline.”

“Know you do.”

Harry smiles at that, gently turning his body over and laying on his back, allowing Caroline to make herself comfortable. His hands reach for his journal on the makeshift bedside table, opening to a marked page with a poem that he wrote on the plane the day he left, the day everything went wrong, thinking about how much he would miss her and want to be with her every day until they were in each other’s company. “I’m happy that you know.”

“Have you got any clue how much I love you, Harry?”

Harry turns his head to look at Caroline, her eyes slowly shutting and her lips slightly parted as she sucks in deep breaths and gives way to the sleep that’s been nagging at her eyelids for nearly an hour. Harry’s heart is so warm and swollen with Caroline in his arms that it makes him almost forget to answer her. “Have some idea, yeah. It’s a lot. Love me a lot, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

“Feel the same way about you, Callie,” Harry says honestly, scratching lightly at her scalp and letting his mouth linger with a kiss on her forehead for a while. “Love of my life, you are.”

Harry always means what he says, Caroline knows this. Caroline knows this, even though her brain is bombarded with intrusive thoughts telling her that he’ll leave her like everyone else, eventually. “Falling in Love” is a hard concept to truly understand, to make one’s brain believe they’re worthy of deserving. Caroline has waited a long time, a very long time, to feel like she is worthy of love. Caroline knows why the relationship never worked out with her ex, with Max – because she didn’t feel worthy to be loved by him. Caroline isn’t sure what happened with Harry that made the switch, which made her feel like maybe this one will show her that she’s worthy of it.

Certainly, it’s because of how Harry loves. Harry is the perfect way to learn to love yourself because the way he loves is so unconditional and pure. Harry loves with his whole chest, with his whole might, with a ferocity that makes you feel like you’re the only person on the planet that means anything to him. Caroline, although obsessed with him, certainly hasn’t always felt this way. Caroline certainly couldn’t stand to be around Harry for a while, which made it nearly impossible to see how she could have fallen in love with him. Of everything, their relationship is everything but a mystery, of a circular moment of hatred to love, of infatuation to lust. Harry is the perfect example of the quote, “But our hatred is almost indistinguishable from our love.”

Caroline looks to Harry and simply stares for a while, not saying anything, soaking in the way his fingers brush through her hair and his perfect lips are pursed together in thought as he mindlessly watches the reruns of a television program on the clunky machine shelved in the corner of the room. Caroline doesn’t necessarily want children, for the sake of genetically passing her brain to another human, but looking at Harry, right now, and the way that he is with her, she thinks that it wouldn’t be so horrible to have another version of him toddling around. Caroline knows she’s in love, then – when everything changes because of him.

Harry says something suddenly, his eyes still trained on the television, his fingertips scratching Caroline’s head softly to gain her attention to reality. “Callie, I think you’re incredibly brave.”

Caroline smiles softly, shaking her head and nudging further into Harry’s embrace, threading her leg through his thighs and cuddling closer to him, whispering, “But it is not bravery; I have no choice. I wake up and live my life. Don't you do the same?”

“All the Light We Cannot See?”

Caroline nods with a smile. Harry knowing the novels she references has always made her feel warm inside. “Can you read me one more?” she wonders, nodding towards the poetry journal in his hands and the marked pages that are bending out of the cover. “Only one.”

“Only if you promise to go to sleep,” he says sternly, opening the pages and turning towards the one that is the most recent, the most freshly how he’s feeling. Harry’s been writing poetry about Caroline for so many years that it seems almost impossible that there are things he has forgotten to say or neglected to say. And yet, nearly every day, there is something new that he wants to find the words to express about the love of his life. “Have all those doctor’s visits in the morning, Callie, and the psychiatrist is coming to check on your medicine before we can leave.”

“Fair enough.”

“Only one,” Harry warns, clearing his throat and opening the page, smiling at Caroline’s eyes are already squeezing shut and ready to let his voice lull her to sleep. “Goodnight, my love.”

“feeling you against my chest // my heart is beating, undeniably a mess // you are everything all at once // and i’d do anything for you to see // that you are all i ever need.”

𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @goldenbabys-world, @burberryharold, @stylesfics-xx, @grace-ful-gold, @summertimestyles, @laur-sogolden​, @yourhsficsplug​, @morethanamelodyy​, @truckerhatharry​, @plzplzme

[atc74]

Watching You (1)

Square(s) Filled: Coach AU for @spnfluffbingo2019, Secret Admirer for @spngenrebingo

Warnings: Fluff, drinking, mentions of big brother Dean being a dick in the past, then being crazy supportive, love notes, then creepy love notes, Fluffy with an angsty finish.

Summary: Y/N has a secret admirer that has been leaving her sweet notes. On top of that, she gathers her courage and asks the tall, dark, and handsome Cross Country Coach/History Teacher, Sam Winchester to dinner, thinking he could be her secret admirer. Sam isn’t the secret admirer and someone is unhappy. Will history repeat itself or can Sam keep his new girlfriend safe?

Pairing:  Coach/Teacher!Sam x Coach!Reader

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Michael Shurley, Dean Winchester (others to be announced) 

Word Count: 4716

Written for: @spnfluffbingo2019 and @spngenrebingo

Beta’d by: The incomparable @amanda-teaches, thank you to the moon and back for everything! Also a huge shout out to @luci-in-trenchcoats, the Queen of AU Whodunits for her feedback. And to @alleiradayne, for her faith in me and her unwavering support.

A/N: This is the first part to a two part story. I feel it was too long for one solid piece. I hope you enjoy it and that you come back for the second part!

Looking for the next level fan experience? Check out Sam or Dean scent now! Buy it here from @scentsfromthebunker!

Y/N was exhausted, having gotten up at dawn to watch countless games of their opponents, trying to come up with a strategy. She unlocked her office after another long practice. The first game was just three days away and she wondered if her girls were ready, despite all her planning and drills. She dropped the bag of balls unceremoniously in the chair and flipped the light on, shuffling to her desk, but stopped short when she spotted a plain white envelope with her name on it in the middle of the desk. 

She opened the light blue parchment carefully, wondering what it contained. Pulling out the typed letter, she smiled to herself as she read the words aloud. 

The note wasn’t signed and she looked around shyly, as if she would be able to spot the person that had left it. She filed the note away in the bottom drawer of her desk and continued on with the task of preparing her volleyball team for their first game. She could hear the bass of a boombox and the clinking of weights from across the hall and got up to shut the door, but it stopped before the latch caught. 

“Hey, Y/N, we’re not bothering you are we?” Sam Winchester asked. He was the incredibly tall, incredibly handsome history teacher and head coach of the Cross Country team. She guessed from his question his team was the source of the noise coming from the weight room. 

“Oh hey, Sam. No, not really, it’s more in my head, trying to get us ready for the game on Thursday,” she waved him off. “First meet, Saturday, right?” 

“Oh yeah. The kids are hitting the weights hard. They are thirsty for a win after last year,” Sam chuckled. “Well, good luck. I’ll leave you to it.” 

“You, too. Thanks Sam,” she smiled and turned back to her computer, hearing the door close behind him. She glanced up and saw him turn the corner back to the weight room and a flush crept up her cheeks. “Work hard, then you can play hard, Y/N.” 

Thursday rolled around and Y/N was anxious and excited. She always got that way before the first game of the season. After the last three days of practices and drills, she felt the team was ready. She whistled quietly to herself as she carried her bag and travel mug into her office. There, on the desk, was another envelope with her name on it. Inside was another sheet of the light blue paper typed with a few words. 

Y/N smiled. She didn’t know who was leaving these sweet notes for her, but she loved them, especially finding this one quite fitting for their first game. She tucked the new note in with the first and set about her day. 

A new note greeted her when she returned to her office after the team’s first game and win later that day. 

A shiver ran through her as she stuck her head out the door, looking around, but all she could see was her team celebrating as they headed to the locker room. All the other offices were closed as was the door to the weight room. Her secret admirer had just been in her office. Whoever it was had just been there and witnessed their win. She smiled to herself as she continued to wonder who it could be. 

A knock on her office door interrupted her thoughts. She lifted her head to see Sam’s large frame filling her doorway. “Hey, I just wanted to stop by and congratulate you on the win.” 

“Thanks, Sam. They put in a ton of hard work and they fought hard for it,” she added. 

“Want to grab a celebratory beer?” Sam offered, his deep dimples showing. “It’s on me.” 

“You know what? Yes! I’ve busted my butt, too. Let me grab my things,” Y/N agreed, sliding the latest note in her bottom drawer, making sure it closed. “Where to?” 

The local watering hole where the teachers usually went was slow, but school hadn’t started yet, so Y/N and Sam easily found a booth, a server approaching their table quickly. They placed their drink orders and made small talk while they waited. 

Sam had only been teaching at the high school for about a year and Y/N enjoyed the opportunity to get to know him more. She already knew he was attractive and athletic, but he was also incredibly smart. He had obtained his teaching degree and minored in World History, but she learned he also held a masters in Ancient Languages. He had an older brother that was a detective, but they had lost both their parents in an accident before Sam started college. 

Sam learned a bit more about the pretty volleyball and basketball coach as well. She occasionally taught when a substitute was needed, but teaching had been her fall back when she was in school. It didn’t come to the forefront until she tore her Achilles during her senior year of college. 

“So, you were smiling pretty big back there. Happy about the win?” Sam inquired, raising his hand for another round. 

“No. I mean, yes, I was, but that wasn’t why I was smiling,” she laughed. “It was a sweet note that was left on my desk.” 

“Oh, from your boyfriend?” Sam asked, mentally kicking himself for not asking first. 

“Oh no, nothing like that. I don’t actually have a boyfriend,” she admitted less reluctantly than usual when posed with the topic. She didn’t miss the look of surprise on Sam’s face though when she said it. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing. It’s just- I just tho-. God, my brother was right,” he chuckled as a blush crept up his cheeks. 

“Older siblings usually think they’re right, but not always. What might he have been right about?” she reached over and placed her hand on his arm. 

“That I am the worst at flirting. Conversation I can do. Flirting, not so much,” he confessed sheepishly. 

“Well, Sam, conversation is flirting to some people, so you can tell your big brother he’s wrong,” she giggled, moving down his arm to grasp his hand in hers. “You’re doing pretty good so far.”

“Oh, I, uh...Thank you, Y/N,” Sam said, his bright eyes finding hers in the fading daylight of the bar. 

“Sam, I know you have an early meet on Saturday, but I know this great place with an awesome outdoor patio. Would you like to go to dinner with me tomorrow night?” Y/N proposed, her eyes still locked with his. 

“Yes. Yes, I would like that very much,” he breathed out. 

Y/N let out the breath she had been holding, hoping she wasn’t wrong. It had been a long time, too long, since she had been out on a date with a guy that could hold her attention through more than the appetizer. 

“Splendid!” She smiled back at Sam as their next round appeared. 

~*~

As a general rule, Y/N loved Fridays, but who didn’t? It signified the end of a work week for most people. But this particular Friday, Y/N was looking forward to her date with Sam, her co-worker with brains and brawn. She had been giddy last night when she arrived home, Snapchatting a friend while trying on outfits for her date. They finally settled on a long floral print jumpsuit with wedge sandals. 

She was singing softly to herself as she walked into her office in the morning. Y/N flicked on the light switch and shimmied her way across the room. There sitting in the middle of her desk was another white envelope with her name neatly printed across the front. She tore open the simple envelope and read the words it contained. 

It was funny if she thought about it, how the notes made her feel like she felt when she was with Sam. Could Sam be her secret admirer? He had already told her how horrible he was with the whole flirting thing, maybe this was easier for him. Really, it didn’t matter, since they had a date that night. Just the thought of Sam had a wide smile parting her lips as she prepared for another day before a well deserved weekend. 

Around noon, Y/N decided to head home. She checked Sam’s office, but it was empty. With her bag slung over one shoulder, she made her way through the school to find Sam, greeting other teachers as she passed them in the halls. She paused as she reached his classroom, seeing him sitting there with stacks of books and maps on either side of him. She hadn’t observed him in his classroom before, so she took a moment to do just that before knocking on the door. 

“Hey, I didn’t hear you come in. Sorry for the mess,” Sam waved to the stacks around him. 

“I understand. I just wanted to stop by before I left. Do you want to meet at the restaurant?” Y/N suggested. 

“Since I clearly have to up my game, I’d like to the gentlemanly duty of picking you up, if that’s okay with you?” Sam offered. 

Y/N smiled but felt the heat flooding her face. “I think I’d like that.” She removed a small notebook from her bag and jotted down her phone number and address, adding a cheesy smiley face. She tore the page out and handed it to Sam, who may have blushed more than she had. “See you at six, Coach.” 

~*~

Dinner with Sam, while casual and relaxed, was the most fun Y/N had experienced in quite some time. He was eloquent and animated when he spoke. He was witty and charismatic and his brother had no idea how wrong he was about Sam. His flirting may not be overt, but he was definitely skilled in the subtle art of it. 

A quiet but comfortable stroll through the center of town rounded out their evening before Sam drove her home. Y/N had been testing the waters all night and she was confident in her ability to read Sam. She reached over the center console and entwined her fingers with his. She didn’t glance in his direction, but she noticed his head dip slightly as he watched their joined hands, followed by a smile, dimples included, before he returned his attention to the road. 

“I had a lovely time tonight, Sam. Thank you,” Y/N turned to him as they reached her front door. 

“So did I,” he agreed. “In case I forgot to mention it, you look absolutely stunning.”

“You did, thank you. It’s always nice to hear,” she giggled, her eyes meeting his. 

“I’d really like to kiss you, Y/N,” Sam whispered. 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” she remarked. 

As if in slow motion, their bodies closed the distance before Sam pressed his lips to hers. They were soft, softer than she could have imagined, and she found herself rising up to her tiptoes and snaking her arms around his neck as the kiss deepened. Sam’s hands flattened against the small of her back, holding her to him. He tasted faintly of red wine and the strawberry cheesecake they had shared and she longed for more, but Sam pulled away, his chest heaving for breath. 

Y/N let her arms slip down from their stronghold to rest on Sam’s chest. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his. “Whoa.” 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam murmured in the moonlight, opening her front door. 

“Goodnight, Sam,” she whispered, slipping inside and shutting the door behind her. Through a crack in the curtains, she watched as Sam bounced down the steps and back to his car. He seemed as pleased as she was with the outcome of their first date. She impatiently waited until he was in his car with the door closed before she squealed for delight inside her darkened house, much to the dismay of her sleeping cat, Mr. Blinkers. 

~*~

Y/N bopped her head into Sam’s office. “Wanna get some coffee?” His head and wild mop of still damp hair flew up at the sound of her voice. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“Oh, no, you didn’t! It was just so quiet, I didn’t know anyone else was in.” He walked around the desk, approaching her like a lion stalking his prey and her skin flushed under his gaze. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Yeah? What were you thinking about me?” she whispered, tilting her head. 

“Thinking about how I can’t wait to kiss you again,” he murmured, pulling her to the side and shutting the door, backing her into it. “And, I am going to kiss you again.” 

“Think you can do better, Coach?” she teased, although she wasn’t sure the first kiss could have been any better. 

“Practice makes perfect,” he groaned, crashing his lips to hers. The first kiss they shared was sweet and soft. The second was all heat and want, both of them panting, their swollen lips chasing another taste. 

“We should…” she gasped. 

Sam took a step back. “Yeah, we probably should. Sorry if I was too forward.” 

“Don’t ever be sorry for kissing me,” she retorted. “ But we should probably get that coffee now.” 

Sam opened the door and looked around. That was when they heard a door down the hall slam shut. “There isn’t a rule against this is there?” 

“No. I read the faculty handbook this weekend, just to be sure,” she answered. 

“Nerd,” Sam chuckled as they headed to the teachers’ lounge, giggling like two students. 

“Hello Sam, Y/N. Good morning,” a low voice interrupted their conversation. 

“Oh, hello, Michael,” Y/N greeted the Religious Studies teacher. 

“Shurley,” Sam grunted. 

“Have some coffee Winchester, maybe it’ll improve your disposition,” he snickered. “Have a lovely day, Y/N.” Michael turned and left the teachers’ lounge, leaving Y/N staring after him. 

“What the hell was that about?” she asked Sam. 

“It’s a long story,” he sighed. “A story for another time.” 

~*~

“Sam!” Y/N shouted down the hall when they returned from the lounge. 

She heard his footsteps before she saw him, but he was in her office in just seconds. “What’s wrong?” 

“Someone was in here,” she showed him the note. 

“You said something about a note when we went out for drinks last week. How long have you been getting these?” Sam questioned, concern rising in his tone. 

“A week, maybe two. I don’t know. They were sweet,” she shrugged. “This is not sweet.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll call my brother and we’ll figure it out,” he promised, wrapping his arms around her in an attempt to provide comfort. 

~*~

Y/N’s phone buzzed in the bottom of her bag on her way home. She searched for it, not taking her eyes off the road. “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Sam.” 

“Hey, did you talk to your brother?” 

“Yeah, unfortunately, there isn’t much the police can do,” Sam sighed. “At this point they are just notes. There is no intent of harm.”

“Great.”

“But he suggested getting the locks changed at work and home, just to be safe. I already talked with security and they’ve arranged for a locksmith to come first thing tomorrow. I’m also on my way to your house now with new locks,” Sam informed her. 

“Thank you, Sam. I’ll see you in a bit then?” 

“I should be there in just a few minutes,” he replied. “See you then.” 

When Y/N pulled into her driveway, Sam had already arrived. He was leaning against the trunk of his car, a plastic bag from the home improvement store in his hand and a smile on his face. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted her, leaning in to kiss her.

“Hey yourself,” she laughed. “I’m going to order some takeout while we get these installed. Let’s go inside.”  They joked with each other as she unlocked the door. Sam’s laughter died as he spotted another envelope that appeared to have been slipped under her door. 

“Well if that isn’t creepy as fuck,” she shuddered. 

“Stay here. I’m going to check the rest of the house,” Sam declared. He ran up the stairs, checking each room. “Do you have a basement?”

Y/N nodded, showing him the door near the kitchen. He was back in minutes. “Nothing seems disturbed and the windows are locked.” 

Her hands were shaking so much as she attempted to dial the phone to place an order for takeout. Sam noticed and took the phone from her hands, laying it on the table. “Hey, hey. I’m here and you’re safe. It’s going to be okay. As long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you, okay?” 

Y/N could only nod as Sam held her, trying to calm herself down. After a few minutes, her breathing was back to normal and Sam released her, pulling his phone from his pocket. 

“Dean, hey. I just texted you Y/N’s address. Can you swing by and help me with the locks?...Yeah, I’ll fill you in when you get here...Oh, can you also pick up a pizza with the works and a six pack?...Yeah, okay. Thanks.” 

“Hey, Dean’s going to come help with the locks, then you’ll be all set, okay?” Sam cooed in an effort to keep her calm. 

 Nearly an hour later, a loud rumbling startled Y/N as she was doing her best to relax into Sam. “It’s okay, it’s just my brother.” He shifted out from under her and opened the door. His brother was tall, not quite as tall as Sam, but he still had some height on him. He carried a couple of plastic bags, two six packs of beer and a large pizza. 

“Y/N, this is my big brother, Dean,” Sam introduced them. 

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, though,” Dean shook her hand. “But, we’re going to make sure you’re safe.”

“Thank you, Dean,” she breathed out. She didn’t know why she felt safer and better after hearing it from a man she didn’t know. Her instincts told her it was because he was a cop. 

After a couple of slices of pizza each and a beer, Dean dumped the contents of the bags he’d brought. “So what we have here are what appear to be your run of the mill smoke detectors, Y/N. Only these ain’t so run of the mill. These have hidden motion detection cameras, but hook up and work just like a normal smoke detector.” 

Y/N picked up one of the units and took it out of the box, inspecting it carefully. From the outside, it looked completely normal. It didn’t even look that different on the inside, except for the slot for a memory card. “Well, let’s get started.” 

Two hours later, Y/N, Sam, and Dean had changed the locks and installed the new smoke detector cameras near the front and back doors. They also installed one at the top of the stairs on the second floor and in the basement stairwell. It took almost no time to download the app and get them all hooked to her wifi. Y/N was feeling safer knowing the cameras were there. It didn’t hurt having two strapping men there as well. 

“I’ve got one more thing here for you, Sweetheart,” Dean took out the last box. “This is a bluetooth speaker, also with a hidden camera. Sam gave me a basic layout of your office and this will fit in anywhere. Just make sure it has a clear view of your office door.” 

“Dean, I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. How much do I owe you for this stuff?” Y/N asked, wanting to make sure Dean wasn’t footing the bill for her. 

“Got any pie?” Dean laughed. “Seriously, though, we have a buddy that does home security and owed me a favor. Knowing you’re safe is payment enough.”

“I actually do have pie,” Y/N gestured to the corner of her counter. 

Dean moved so fast, he nearly tripped over his own feet. He reached into the corner and slowly moved the cake stand toward him. Reverently, he removed the cover and stared at the luscious apple pie. Y/N appeared next to him with a plate, fork and knife. He took the items from her before shooing her away. 

“Should we leave him alone?” Y/N whispered to Sam as Dean sliced into the pie. 

“Probably. I don’t want you to have to witness Dean with his first love,” Sam chuckled, slipping his arm around her waist and pulling her into the living room. He sank down onto the sofa, dragging her with him. “You feeling better?” 

“Yeah, thank you, Sam,” she sighed, settling into his lap. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

“Of course. You don’t even have to ask. I was going to anyway. This couch is ridiculously comfortable,” he commented, trying to mask his worry. 

“My bed’s even better,” she whispered, curling into him, feeling his body tense slightly under her. “I know we’ve only been seeing each other for like five days, but I just feel safe with you. I trust you, Sam.” 

“Thank you, Y/N. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I’ll keep you safe,” he promised, holding her tighter. 

~*~

The next few weeks flew by without another incident. Between their jobs and coaching responsibilities, Y/N and Sam rarely had time to see each other. It was only in the dark of night, that Sam arrived at her house, holding her close and keeping her safe while she slept. 

“Y/N!” Sam announced as he entered her house with the key she had given him after that first night. 

“In here!” she called back from the kitchen. He found her at the counter, her hands busy chopping. “I didn’t plan anything for dinner, so I’m just throwing a couple of Cobb salads together real quick.” 

“Sounds perfect,” Sam commented as he pulled a chilled bottle of white wine from her fridge. Over the last month, he had become very comfortable in her space. At first it had been out of necessity, but as the days went on, he found they fit into each other’s lives almost seamlessly. She even liked his cooking and enjoyed spending time with his brother. 

Dinner was comfortable as they shared stories about their day and their students, wondering if they had ever been that clueless about anything. “Dean says I was clueless about everything.” 

“Sam, you’re one of the smartest men I’ve ever met,” Y/N confirmed, clearing the table. 

“About everything except girls,” Sam laughed, refilling their glasses. “I remember before my first date, he left a porn DVD and a box of condoms on my bed.” 

“Oh my god! He did not!” Y/N laughed. 

“Oh, he did. I was so nervous at dinner, I almost threw up. I ended up taking her home early,” Sam admitted. “I didn’t even have sex for the first time until I went to college. I just couldn’t. Not with knowing that somehow he’d know if I had, you know?” 

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed about Sam. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” she murmured. “She must have been special.” 

“She was,” he mumbled, turning to wash the dishes. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” she laid her hand on his arm, getting his attention. 

“No, no, it’s okay. It was a long time ago,” Sam told her, drying his hands on the towel. “I’d like to tell you about her.” He grabbed their wine and led her into the living room. They settled on the sofa, Y/N sitting close to him, sensing they were about to have a heavy conversation. 

Y/N was stunned, to say the least. To find out her boyfriend’s first love died in an intentional house fire and they never found the arsonist was not how she thought the night would go. She moved even closer, pulling Sam into her as she held him, providing any comfort she could. 

“Michael Shurley and I were friends in college, roommates. He actually introduced me to Jessica. The three of us were inseparable, until things with Jessica and I got serious. We moved in together and that is when Michael turned,” Sam rattled. 

“Jessica had been getting some notes, just like you. Then the notes started getting weird, creepy. I didn’t put two and two together soon enough for Jessica,” he informed her. “Michael and I were both questioned about her death and the fire. I had been on a camping trip with my brother the night of the fire. Michael’s alibi was less solid, but the police were never able to prove anything.” 

“Sam, I don’t mean to sound unempathetic, but don’t you think I have a right to know all this?” Y/N stood up and began pacing her living room. “There is a huge possibility that this guy, a guy we both know, had something to do with your first girlfriend’s death and you didn’t think it was important enough to mention?” 

“Y/N, please understand that I had my reasons. I am doing everything in my power to protect you. Dean has had Shurley under surveillance since the first note showed up here at your house. We figured the less you knew, the safer you would be, and so far it’s working. You’re safe,” Sam explained apologetically. 

“Sam, I see him nearly every day. I need to know! The school needs to know!” she clamored. “I-I think you should leave.” 

“Y/N, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. But you’re safer with me here. I can protect you!” Sam argued, getting to his feet and rising to his full height. 

“I’ve got the cameras, Sam. I don’t know if I can I trust you the way I need to,” she told him. “I need some time to think. Please go.” 

Sam roughly gathered his things, shoving his feet into his boots at the front door. He paused, his hand on the knob. “Just- just promise you’ll call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I’ve got your brother’s number,” she sniffed. He turned the knob, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him. She jumped at the boom it made, rattling her and the windows. Slumping back into the couch, she allowed herself to let go, sobbing away her hurt in the darkness. 

Y/N woke sluggishly. The house was still dark, save for the light above her kitchen sink. She stretched her stiff body, noticing for the first time the blanket draped neatly over her. She remembered her argument with Sam. She remembered asking him leave, telling him she didn’t know if she could trust him. She remembered crying herself to sleep on the couch. She did not remember grabbing a blanket. A blanket that she kept in the window seat of her living room, not on her couch. A chill ran through her as she grabbed her phone off the coffee table. There were three missed calls, five text messages, and a voicemail. All of them from Sam. 

Ignoring the notifications, she dialed Dean. Groggily he answered on the third ring. “‘Lo?”

“Dean, it’s Y/N. I’m sorry to wake you, I don’t even know what time it is, but can you come over? I think someone was here.” 

Part Two

Did you like it? The nicest thing you can do for a writer is reblog their work and tell them, and others, how much you like it!

The Whole Enchilada: @iwantthedean @dolphincliffs @mrswhozeewhatsis @meganwinchester1999 @cherrycokegirls1 @closetspngirl  @roxyspearing @flamencodiva @blacktithe7 @sis-tafics @just-another-busyfangirl @evansrogerskitten @amanda-teaches @hannahindie @wotinspntarnation @winchesterprincessbride @winecatsandpizza @kickingitwithkirk  @wi-deangirl77 @hobby27 @mogaruke @gh0stgurl @alleiradayne @idreamofplaid @seenashwrite @crashdevlin @thoughtslikeaminefield

The Sam Sin-dicate: @mtngirlforever @supernatural-jackles

The Dean’s List: @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @dean-winchesters-bacon @maddiepants  @adoptdontshoppets @mtngirlforever @supernatural-jackles

[moeruhoshi]

getting ready for school so here we go again

I’ve been working on this idea for a while, this is just a rough sketch of an AU I lowkey wanna turn into a multi-chap

Lucy sighed for the umpteenth time as she stared out the window, her mind in another place as the teacher drawled on with the lesson. She found herself zoning out like this often, not because she was under a lot of stress or anything, even though it was her senior year. 

Besides, Macao-sensei really knew how to talk about one particular fact for twenty long minutes; most of the class was either avoiding his gaze or finding themselves daydreaming at this point.

It had been about four or so months since the school year started and the foolish, idiotic men of Magnolia High still had an annoying pact set in stone, preventing anyone from asking Lucy Heartfilia out.

Who the hell were they to decide who she would date or not?! And what the hell were they planning to do when Lucy actually started dating someone? 

The whole bullshit system practically began as soon as she took her first steps onto campus by a group of third years, and the baton had been passed on ever since. Lucy had yet to find out who was at the center of this weird fan group, but they’d face a world of hurt for ruining her high school life like this.

Not that Lucy had especially wanted a boyfriend, wasn’t it just one of those things a girl wanted to experience at least once with someone before college? Lucy had grown up reading a lot of romantic stories that had her wishing to meet someone who wanted to hold and cherish her for something more than her looks. 

Lucy blushed at the thought, but she was a grown woman! Some things couldn’t be solved by reading one of Erza’s novels, no matter how many the blonde was given. Although Lucy was pretty sure she was just shoving them onto her so Jellal wouldn’t find out that Erza had such an extensive collection.

She thought she would be quick to accept her first confession, as long as whoever gave it to her had good intentions. If he was smart enough to ignore this shitty pact then, wouldn’t he be a good person to date? It felt like asking too much for him to be a good looking guy that was slightly muscular and had sharp eyes like a warrior…maybe a bit possessive...Lucy blamed Erza for creating such weird standards held in her heart. But any girl would be excited if a pretty boy were to confess his love for her;

“E-E-Eh…?! Y-You’d really want someone like me…?” She flushes as he takes her hand, eyes earnest and unwavering.

“I’ve loved you for a long time...please...You’re the only one for me,” He pulls her close to his chest as he wraps his arms around her and declares that he’ll never let her go.

Something like that seemed a bit dramatic but so what? It was hard for a guy to even befriend her since the rumor being spread that she was supposedly some perfect angel with an incredibly high standard for friends and men.

Lucy wasn’t anything special, she felt that she was your average teenage girl that had a knack for cooking, studying, and was weak for the occasional visit to a cute café. Lucy and her friends had known each other since primary school, but it wasn’t like we weren’t looking for new additions to their group. As long as you were friendly, could get along properly with Erza, and learned to handle Juvia’s obsessive behavior, then they had no issues befriending anyone. 

She’d go over the school's intercom and shout those exact words if she didn’t think it’d make her look somewhat desperate and kind of a pervert.

Lucy wanted a boyfriend. She really wanted a boyfriend! And she had wished intensely for someone kind-hearted to enter her life before leaving this school. A little part of her wanted to make a statement to those jerks that started this, but Lucy honestly just wanted to learn how to fall in love. Didn’t she deserve that much?

“Lucy!” Levy shouted and shocked her out of her thoughts, almost startling her out of her desk.

“A-Ah! Gomen, I was spacing out,” Lucy laughed awkwardly as she finally noticed her friends crowding around her desk.

“That’s the third time Levy called you,” Erza pointed out, hand resting on her hip. “You’re not sick are you?”

“Not at all, I was just daydreaming.” Lucy sweatdropped, glad to stop Erza’s train of thought before she was covering her with an unnecessary amount of bandages and shoved into an infirmary bed.

“Class ended a couple minutes ago, didn’t Lucy-san notice?” Juvia asked, her hands clutching her bag straps nervously as she anticipated their leave.

“Yeah, let’s hurry up Lucy-chan, can’t you see Juvia wants to go stare down her crush before he leaves?” Cana hummed, the rest giggling as the blue-haired girl flinched and began to sweat slightly.

“I-Is Juvia that obvious…?”

“Painfully,” Lucy laughed as she stood from her seat and grabbed ahold of her own bag. “Let’s hurry before you miss him.”

“Heartfillia, McGarden! Don’t forget that you two have classroom duties!” Macao-sensei shouted in their direction, halting the group as they were almost out the door.

“Aww man, Lucy I have a job interview to get to! At that charming bookstore too…” Levy sobbed, eyes dramatic as she looked back over her shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, Levy-chan. I can cover for both of us,” Lucy rolled her eyes but grabbed her hands with a broad grin. “You really need to get that job so I can get a discount on a crap ton of books.”

“Ah! You’re the best, Lu-chan! I’m taking you out for lunch once I do get it!” The shorter brunette clapped as she ran out the door, rushing away to quickly get to the said establishment.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help? I’d be glad to stay behind with you.” Erza offered with a small smile.

“I can handle it, besides I think the two of you need to make sure Juvia doesn’t jump that poor kohai,” Lucy insisted as the antsy girl whisked herself down the hall just as soon as Levy did, muttering consistently about her precious ‘Gray-sama’.

An hour or so later, Lucy was soon walking downstairs with a sigh of relief. Cleaning the classroom wasn’t terribly hard work, but it always took twice as long with half the staff. She deserved a nice long bubble bath tonight.

As soon as she flipped open her shoe locker open, Lucy could have sworn that her heart had stopped beating for a moment. It was as if time stood still, her eyes frosting over at the sight of a very pink piece of paper.

Her hands trembled as she removed the folded slip of paper from atop her shoes, her breath shaky as she opened and read what had been written. It wasn’t possible…had she finally received a love letter…? 

Well, not as much a love letter but someone asking to meet her behind the school near the old willowed sakura tree. Who would ask a girl to meet them there if not to confess their love?!

“O-Oh Mavis…I’m a bit too excited, a-aren’t I?” Lucy gulped as she gripped the straps of her bag, clenching the paper that requested her appearance as she began walking through the courtyard. The blonde nervously skimmed back over the note, sighing happily even with the short amount of words left for.

‘Lucy, I’ll be waiting by the sakura tree for you after school lets out. I hope to see you there. Signed Anonymous’

“W-Wait, after school?!” Lucy gasped, noticing the sun setting slightly and the orange tint to the sky, depicting just how late it had gotten. “It’s already so late! What if he left…?!” She hurried her steps as she rounded the school building, thankful that no one seemed to be around to see her rushing towards the tree with such a red face. As she approached the area, her heart began to sink as she looked around, failing to see another person. The one day she decided to take her sweet time…

Her lip quivered as she stood in front of the sakura tree, sad to find no one sitting or standing against it on either side, the surrounding benches empty, and the courtyard deserted. Lucy felt tears prick the corner of her eyes as she sat reluctantly on the wooden seat, feeling a heavy disappointment in her heart. It wasn’t like she could expect him to wait...after all, she was an hour late.

“E-Eh?! L-L-Lucy-senpai?!” A voice sounded from before her, Lucy quickly raising her head to see who it was. His eyes were wide and his face was red, matching his odd pink hair, sharp onyx eyes cast over her as she rushed to wipe her tears away.

“Y-You are…?” She presumed him to be the boy she was to meet and quickly stood up, her bag falling over as the contents spilled around their feet. Frantic, she dropped to her knees to haphazardly shove her back into her bag, the unnamed boy crouching to help her as well. Their fingers brushed lightly against each other as they both reached for her pencil case, their eyes meeting and their embarrassment growing with heat present in their cheeks. “T-T-Thank you.”

“You...Lucy-senpai, you were crying...are you okay?” He asked, holding out his hand to help her up.

“O-Oh! Yes, I’m fine…!” She tried to convince him, hoping her mascara hadn’t run or instead didn’t want to admit how she was crying because she thought he had left her behind. That was if he was the one who wanted to meet her.

“I’m glad you came, I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you, I went to get a drink.” He chuckled lightly as he held the bottle of dragon fruit tea up for her to see.

“N-No, I’m sorry I was late, I was doing classroom duties.” She explained, his features lighting up as she said so.

“I’m glad,” He sighed. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

“What did you need to ask me?” Lucy mumbled quietly as she stared down at her feet, attempting to hide her blush.

“I’m Natsu Dragneel, I’m a first-year...but I still wanted to tell you how much I like you...would you do the honor of becoming my girlfriend?” He bowed, voice thick in the air as his question rang in her ears, her cheeks aflame and her heart hammering in her chest. 

The wind rushed past the two of them, scattering the petals of the tree and surrounded them as Lucy lifted her head and met the sight of his still bowed form.

“Yes...I will,”

[divinion1990]

Sabretooth; Dusk/Dawn

One year ago, the Grand Magic Games were held in the capital city of Crocus. It had been a triumphant year in so many ways, even as Sabretooth had suffered a surprising loss at the hands of the reformed and renergized Fairy Tail. The battle itself, however, was vastly overshadowed by the near miss of the dark magic ‘Eclipse’. Everyone in Fiore knew how close the world had come to a terrible fate of ten thousand dragons. Only the sheer determination of Lucy Heartfillia’s future-self had managed to save the world, making sure that not a single dragon could escape Eclipse in their timeline.

“Are you going to be much longer?” Minerva said, throwing a less than playful glare in her master’s direction.

“Hang on, hang on,” Sting said, raising a hand to silence her. The new guildmaster refused to be rushed. He’d been studying the small piece of paper intently for a good five minutes now, making small hums to himself as he took in each word and strung them carefully into their set phrases. He must have read it a thousand times already, but he had to be completely certain that he wasn’t missing something important. “I need to make sure that everyone gets the right missions in my guild,” he explained.

“No, you don’t. That isn’t your job. You gave all mission approval to Rufus, remember?” Rogue pointed out to him, holding out his hand to take the mission request.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to double check,” Sting said with a small pout, giving the browning paper reluctantly back to Rogue. “I want to know you’ll be safe.”

“Don’t worry, he’s a big boy. He can do a mission without you,” Minerva said, a smile twisted on the corner of her mouth. “And even if he couldn’t, I’ll be here to protect him.”

“Fro thinks so too!” came a smaller voice from below.

Sting smiled as he leaned down to Frosch’s level. Minerva had a point; it wasn’t as if Rogue was going to be left on his own. Knowing that he had a very capable friend by his side made him feel a little more at ease. “You’ll make sure everyone comes home safe, Frosch?” he asked the smallest member of the party.

Frosch didn’t even need to think about it. He nodded and looked up at Minerva and Rogue, and then back to the approving, kind eyes of the master. “Frosch will look after everyone!”

Sting’s grin widened as he put an affectionate hand on the exceed’s hood with just enough pressure to make the cat giggle and shake away. He stood, sharing the expression with his other two friends. “Knock ‘em dead, guys.”

With the approval, both Minerva and Rogue let out a sigh of relief. It had taken some time, as had every mission before this one, but at least Sting was beginning to accept this would be an ongoing trend. “We won’t be long. If it all goes right, we’ll be back before dawn,” Minerva assured him.

“Dawn?” Sting asked again, the confidence fading as he looked back to the doorway. There weren’t many windows in their guild, but as the door opened and closed, he could see the glimmers of red light shimmering over the horizon. “But it’s just about to turn nightfall. Are you going straight away?”

“The mission was clear they wanted it actioned immediately,” Rogue reminded him.

“The quicker we can have it done the quicker you can get him back, Sting,” Minerva said, already taking Rogue by the arm and beginning to lead him towards the door. Just another subtle gesture to make Sting feel even more uncomfortable, even as her words remained kind and filled with reassurance. “I’ll bring him back soon.”

“Fro thinks so too!” Frosch told them, waving to Lector and Sting as he disappeared out of the guild door for the very last time.

Sting had tried to sleep. Really, he had. It was just a mission. Rogue and Sting had taken plenty of missions without one another over the years. They’d both worked alongside Minerva. Naturally, it made sense that Minerva and Rogue would take missions with just the two of them. And Frosch, of course. It was just normal. The natural progression of friendship.

He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady hum of Lector’s sleep. There was no reason for the dragon slayer to stay awake and think about the wellbeing of just one member of his guild, just one friend amongst so many. He had an entire guild to care for now. He had the responsibility of a family that had adored him enough to put him into that position of power. The shackles that kept him firmly inside the guildhall while people like Rogue could go and explore the world.

Jealousy. He decided it was pure jealousy. Because he should have been alongside them both. He should have been fighting with his partner, with his friend, for a great many years until he even began to think about anything like the responsibility of ‘master’. Maybe he could get out. Take on a few more last-minute missions. Go out with Rogue and Frosch and Lector just one last time, like the good old days.

Even with that explanation, there was a twisted feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Lector woke around the same time that he got up, though he insisted that the two were unrelated. Whatever the reason, Sting was happy to have his company as always. He could cope without Rogue and the others for a night or maybe even longer, but never without his exceed. They would do everything together – getting ready for the day as a unit. They left the house side by side, walked into their guild and made the same greetings to their nakama. They got breakfast together, eating and drinking almost in complete unison. And both of their eyes wandered back to the doorway time and time again.

The sun was rising in the sky. Dawn had passed a couple of hours earlier, and still there had been no sign of the small team. Sting had suspected from the start that they’d been overambitious in their prediction to be home so quickly, but that didn’t make him feel any better. Maybe they had got themselves into some kind of trouble, some distraction, or maybe just an adventure that Sting was now missing out on.

“Sting, we need to talk about the mission acceptance process.”

“Uh huh…” Sting said, more distracted as he took a sip from the coffee mug. A new obsession he’d developed with his promotion. “I told you, just go with whatever. I trust you.”

“That’s just the thing. We have a lot of new members and I don’t think I’ve seen enough to know-“

“Instincts, Rufus,” Sting explained to him, knowing that would prove to be difficult to someone that worked solely on memories. “I…”

He trailed off. He thought he caught something, a shift that was as familiar as his own heartbeat. A scent, filling the air. Finally! He thought to himself, quickly turning back to the doorway.

It opened, but it wasn’t the team that he’d expected to see. Another newcomer, another Sabretooth member that Sting had yet to build the incredible relationship with yet. Even more so now, he felt his heart dropping in disappointment. It wasn’t who he thought it was, but he’d definitely smelled-

“Sting?”

“Sorry!” Sting realised he’d stopped talking midsentence. He turned back to Rufus, pledging to himself to give him his undivided attention this time. “What was I saying? Instincts! Use your instincts. You’ll do great, I know you will,” he said, clasping his hand over Rufus’s shoulder.

The smell… There it was again! To make matters worse, as Sting tried to focus on Rufus, his eyes were drawn away. A shadow where there should have been light. A quivering black mark that scooted around the floor of the guildhall like a mischievous rodent. His eyes stayed wide as he watched it, not sure what to make of it. Why was a shadow there- why was this shadow acting in such a peculiar way?

“What are you looking-?”

“Ah! Nothing! Nothing- don’t worry about it!” Sting said suddenly, drawing Rufus’s attention back to the conversation as he shook his shoulder. At least, just long enough for the memory maker to miss the dark mark finally disappearing through the far door. He might not have understood why, but it was clear that the shadow was trying not to be seen. “Um, why don’t you make a list of, uh, the missions? And you know, categorise them or something. Alphabetise them. Colour code! Uh, be right back.”

He didn’t bother looking back. He just knew that Rufus was giving the back of his head a perplexed look. That was fine, at least it meant that he didn’t know enough to raise a question. Not that Sting would have known how to answer him. Not until he had this chance to disappear into his doorway of his office.

The small room was quiet. Almost too quiet. He sniffed against the air, more certain than ever that he was not alone, even if he couldn’t locate the mysterious shadow. Not only that, he could see the evidence. Sting was a messy individual, but even he wouldn’t have left his study in this condition; papers strewn across the floor, books pulled from bookcases and ornaments pushed around haphazardly across their surfaces.

“Rogue?”

There was no answer. Sting took another step forward, trying to work out which of the shadows was cast by light and which were a perpetual darkness. His mind was racing. Rogue would never keep himself hidden. He would never disappear from him, upturn his entire office and remain silent. This didn’t feel… right.

“Rogue, I know you’re here…” he tried again, keeping his voice softer.

There was a sudden scuffling. A shot through the light. The black mark bounced from under the desk, to the far side of the room. More books tumbled out of the bookcase, more letters flew into the air. The darkness shot up to the ceiling, curling into the corner.

“Rogue!” Sting found himself shouting, taking a step back from the mess. This was animalistic. It was blind and destructive. “What the hell…? Come down - talk to me!” he said, keeping his voice steady and clear. He was supposed to be an authoritative figure as master – but more than anything, a friend.

The shadow shivered. It twisted in the dark corner of the room, swirling ominously. The void had hollow eyes somewhere beneath the layers of mystery, and they were staring at the guildmaster. The darkness was quivering, ready to pounce, ready to fall, ready to attack, ready to surrender-

The shadow slipped into the empty patch on the floor, swirling into an inky black stain just in front of Sting. Although he’d seen it a thousand times, it was always mesmerising to watch Rogue’s body swallowed in reverse by the gaping hole, a dark silhouette gaining form and twisting into a vaguely human figure. The textures softened to skin and fabric and hair, the colours shifting to white, grey, and a deep crimson red.

Sting took a staggered step back. As the shadow dissolved into the familiar man, the scent of his best friend filled his nose. It was as overpowering as it was distorted, a sickening harmony of sweat, dirt, and blood. So much blood. His eyes traced over the dragon slayer’s body, across his chest, his arms, his legs, his sides, his shoulders, his neck… barely finding a patch on his outfit or skin that wasn’t cracking with dirty red stains.

“What happened to you? You’re hurt-” Sting whispered out, stepping forward.

“It isn’t mine.”

The words stopped Sting in his tracks. Rogue didn’t sound much like Rogue anymore. His voice was deep and filled with a frightening power when it felt it should have been at its weakest. In just a few words Sting had the overwhelming urge to fall to his knees, to beg for mercy. He swallowed instead, struggling to keep himself from shivering. “Who’s is it?” he asked.

Rogue didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes silently swept across the office. They were cold and filled with purpose even as they darted around. Suddenly, he launched himself across the room. Another pile of papers was torn apart, scattered in all directions as Rogue desperately poured over them.

“H-hey wait!” Sting said, still more than confused. The snowstorm of paperwork was drowning him, the red fingerprints staining every other sheet. “Slow down! What are you looking for?”

Rogue hissed under his breath. He seemed to struggle with himself on that answer, rocking back and forth as his eyes darted like a caged animal. He glanced up to Sting several times, before staring straight ahead, an argument he seemed to be both winning and losing raging in his mind. “The shadow,” he whispered eventually. He turned back to his counterpart, finally letting Sting see the redness in his eyes and the hollow horror trapped inside. “You have a plan, a way to get rid of the shadow. Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-“

“Yes, you do!” Rogue screamed, throwing yet another pile of papers around, this time for nothing but the pure destruction. He glared at Sting, the pain congealing into helpless anger directed at his friend. “Don’t pretend you don’t know! Don’t lie to me! You know exactly what I’m talking about so where is it-where is it??”

Sting tried to take another gentle step forward, even if every one of his instincts were telling him to step away. He’d never felt this way about Rogue before, never felt this throbbing fear that ran riot through his mind. He wasn’t a threat, he had to remind himself; he was a friend. Not just any friend. That special friend, that friend that meant more than the world to him.

Except his exceed.

Sting stopped in his tracks. He could only detect one smell, one person mixed with the salty sweat and metallic blood. He’d thought there was something so strange about Rogue’s scent from the moment the shadows had parted, but could only assume that it was solely the blood-

“WHERE IS IT?!”  Rogue shouted.

This scream was suddenly with something new. Less of the restless and nervous desperation, a passion that he rarely got to see from his subdued friend. Sting’s eyes grew wider. He kept his own body from shaking the same way that Rogue’s was, kept his anger under control while Rogue’s ran away with itself. “I’m telling you I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered.

“Bullshit!” Rogue screamed at him, the aura around him dropping into a rippling darkness. “You know how to stop it. You can stop the shadow before it takes over. You have one chance, you have to stop it once and for all-”

“Rogue, where is Frosch?”

There was a sudden shift. Rogue bit back his screaming and rambling. The arguments stayed inside of his head, twisted and turned over one another, fumbling without finding voice. Though it was clear he was trying. His mouth opened and closed, eyes staying wide and staring back at Sting for the explanations that failed to materialise.

Sting took the silence opportunity to continue, his own questions now overflowing. “Where’s Minerva, Rogue?” he asked, ignoring as his mouth threatening to become too dry to keep asking.

“I don’t know,” Rogue shook his head, quickly answering under his breath.

So… if he didn’t know about Minerva… Did that mean he knew where Frosch was? His scent had become so foreign in such a short amount of time, not just from the mixture of blood and battle, but distinctly missing something that always should have soaked his clothes. Sting frowned to himself. “Whose blood is that?” he pressed yet again, his voice slower and filled with his own growing fears.

“Everyone.”

He stopped. “Everyone?”

“Avatar. Army. Village. Everyone. All dead. All gone.”

Sting tried to tell himself not to let his heart break. He tried not to let the pity creep through his expression, to keep himself strong while Rogue was weak. But one word… one shaking word threatened to ruin all of that.

“…Frosch?”

Rogue looked away. His eyes closed. His breathing slowed to a chill shudder. And he nodded.

Shit.

It had been exactly what Sting had feared. That feeling that lurched in his chest. And no doubt felt a million times worse for Rogue. Sting knew more than anyone that a bond between a dragon slayer and their exceed was more than any simple friendship, even more than family. It ran deeper than the bond than a human could have with their own limbs. It was a part of them, the heart that beat inside their heart. And Frosch… Frosch was just so…

Sting blinked back his own tears. He didn’t have time for them. They weren’t his to have, not right now, not with Rogue standing in front of him. “Rogue I’m sorry…” he started, feeling dangerously close to losing his own voice. Damn. His voicebox hurt, his eyes hurt, everything hurt. But it would be manageable. It had to be manageable. “I’m so sorry, Frosch- he-“

“I know you’re keeping it from me.”

Sting blinked. “wh-what?”

“The failsafe. The plan, the cure. You’re keeping the way to stop the shadow. I know you have it.”

Sting’s mouth hung open. He was still talking about that… whatever it was? He watched in sheer disbelief as Rogue shifted away from him and back to exactly what he had been doing before. Tearing apart the office, searching for some meaningless trinket or manuscript that simply didn’t exist. As if he hadn’t said anything at all, as if he hadn’t just let Sting know how much his life had come crashing down around him.

“Rogue… You should sit down…” he said, pulling back one of the chairs.

Rogue shook his head. “I know-You have to know how to get rid of the shadow. Before it takes over again, before anyone else-I can’t let anyone else-I can’t-”

“Rogue,” Sting whispered sharply, but he knew that he was powerless here. He still didn’t know what the ‘failsafe’ or ‘shadow’ were. He didn’t know if it was anywhere near as important as what Rogue was telling him, but he knew nothing in this world could have meant more to him than losing Frosch.

That was something that the shadow dragon slayer was failing to realise. He ignored his strangled breathing. He walked on shaking legs. He caught his tears on his eyelashes and refused to let them fall. And he continued to search. He stormed away from the unwanted conversation, determined to continue pulling apart the office.

Sting could do nothing but let him get it out of his system. Stopping him now wouldn’t help him. It wouldn’t take away an ounce of that pain. It would still be waiting for him on the other side.

Rogue blindly destroyed the room under the premise of searching for the impossible. He was like a man possessed, using his magic when his reach could not yield results. It was unclear where the shadow ended, and the man began. Pictures were ripped from walls, bookcases toppled over to reveal the empty walls. He let the room fall around him in chaos, spreading his red fingerpaint across every nook and cranny.

Sting wasn’t surprised when he heard the scream. That strangled, painfilled scream that only came from losing everything.

Only about five minutes had passed when Rogue fell to the floor, his body finally giving in to the emotional weight. His hands gripped the ground in tight fists. His eyelashes could finally take no more tears, and the first streams running down his cheeks. He punched the ground. Again and again and again while that hollow scream echoed around him. Finally. After everything he’d been through, after all the anger and the pain and bloodshed, there was the weakness.

Sting might not have been surprised, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He no longer saw a reason to hold back his own tears, if only a little. He kept his movements slow and gentle, approaching his friend over the minefield of broken glass and carnage. “Rogue, listen to me…” he began slowly, reaching out to him as he crouched to his side. His hand gently pressed onto Rogue’s back, feeling the grief-stricken ripples through every breath. “I’m… so sorry… We’ll get through this. Together. We’ll get through this, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

“I can’t-“

“Yes, you can…” Sting promised, feeling the pain slipping through his fingertips. He felt like he should have been able to share it, the way they could share their energy and magic, he wanted to take away some of that turbulence inside of his friend’s mind. It wasn’t enough just to have tears at the same time as him. It wasn’t enough to just be able to put a hand on his shoulder and hope for the best. He needed to help him.

“No, I can’t-“

“-Rogue-“

“I can’t stop it,” Rogue whispered, taking in a longer, shaking breath. “I can’t stop it from taking over. I can’t stop it. It’s going to- It’s going to- Sabretooth- Everyone- Everyone-”

“Rogue, calm down...” Sting whispered to him, squeezing his shoulders and gently pulling him closer.

“No, I can’t calm down, I can’t stop!” Rogue insisted, his voice swimming through the confusion of emotions. Even as he sat upright, he couldn’t meet Sting in the eye. “It wasn’t my fault- Avatar they- he- it was him, he did this-”

“Shhh shh shh…” Sting said. Rogue’s tears were all he could see, and he felt the overwhelming urge to brush them all away. His hand rested on his cheek, feeling the sticky heat soaking into his palms.

“You don’t understand. You can’t-! If I calm down the shadow will-I can’t-I can’t let anyone else get hurt-”

“Rogue, look at me,” Sting commanded. His eyes held him captive, stern and kind, the way he’d always wished that a guildmaster could have been towards them. Only when he was certain that he had his undivided attention did he tell him the all-important words. Words that would soon become an unfortunate lie.

“I am… so sorry for what happened to Frosch. I just… I can’t believe it. And I don’t…” he could barely speak. The image of the small and most innocent of exceeds was in his head now. He had seen him only a few short hours ago, just before dusk. He’d spoken to him, wished him all the best… It was too much to process. If he tried, he would have lost all ability to speak. Instead, he shook his head, continuing before he lost all will. “… Rogue, listen. I can’t take back what happened, but I will do everything to make sure it never happens again. Sabretooth is my guild now, under my protection. You are under my protection. That means I won’t let any cult or dark guild or-or- ‘shadow’ risk that. Not because I have a plan or some kind of ‘failsafe’, but because we have to. We have to look after each other. And you and me… we always have, haven’t we?”

The words swelled new tears from Rogue’s eyes. They didn’t seem to be sinking in the way that he’d hoped they would, though. The shadow mage was tense, his face completely drained of all colour, his body weakened. Words of lightness and kindness had no hope of getting through to him, it seemed.

But all of a sudden, Rogue gave a heavy sigh. He leaned forwards until his body lost all balance, falling into Sting’s arms. There was no reason to fight it anymore. No reason to stay upright, no reason to feel anything but darkness. Even so, he let the warming arms of his friend wrap around him. He closed his eyes when he felt a warm breath on his neck as he was held close. He chose to say nothing as Sting continued to tell him over and over again that he would take care of him. That he was so sorry for everything that happened. And that no shadow could harm them.

[acelezz]

“L is For Luna” (Part 1): A Saluna Fanfic

A/N: ok, so I got this idea for an episode for The Loud House a few nights ago when I couldn’t fall asleep from drinking too much Dr. Pepper (I’m very sensitive to sugar) and thought it would make an excellent Saluna short story. I had so much energy that I wrote the whole entire thing out in my head but that was a few nights ago and I don’t remember the exact dialogue so this is slightly altered from the original (and probably better since I had more time to think it out), but the concept remains the same. I hope that you guys enjoy my first TLH fanfic!

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Title: L is For Luna

Summary: When Luna finds a love letter in her locker, she hopes that it is her crush Sam, but is doubtful. With the help of her ten siblings, Luna will find out whether her dreams of being with Sam will ever be a reality or not.

Part: 1

Author: L-is-For-Loud-House

Fandom: The Loud House

Ship: Saluna (Luna Loud and Sam Sharp)

Timeline: A few months after “L is For Love”

Genre: Fanfiction/Romance

Word Count: 1,425

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“Ugh, it’s just another manic Monday,” 15 year old Luna Loud sighed as she walked to her locker.

Her morning so far had been disastrous. She had almost been late to school because her family van, Vanzilla, had broke down on the side of the road. This was a common thing for the Loud family since the vehicle is older than their own father. Luckily, Luna’s little 6 year old sister, Lana, who is highly educated in mechanics, was able to repair the alternator, which had been completely fried.

“What an awful way to start off the day and the school week!” She stated as she had finally reached her locker, “What good can this day possibly be?”

Luna soon realized that she had spoke too soon. As soon as the rocker had opened up her locker, a white envelope fluttered out and danced its way down to the floor. Luna noticed that the words “L. Loud” had been written on it with red marker and were surrounded by a bunch of hearts.

“Whoa, a love letter!” Luna exclaimed as she bent down to pick the letter up. “Rockin’!”

Luna excitedly opened up the envelope and took the letter out to see that it read:

“Dear L. Loud,

You will always be able to stand out to me even in the largest crowd. You have always been able to catch my eye due the fact that you have never been afraid to be your unique self. Sorry for the wait, but I realized that if I never told the girl that I have a crush on how rad I think she is, I would never be able to live with myself.

From,

Your Secret Admirer”

“Secret Admirer?” Luna questioned. “Bogus! Now I gotta spend who knows how long figuring out who wrote this lovely letter!”

Luna started to gather the books that she needed for her first few classes when she had made a realization. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because getting frustrated over the fact that my admirer chose to remain anonymous would make me nothing but a hypocrite.”

Luna then thought back to when she had first started to write love letters to her crush and good friend, Samantha Sharp. She had been crushing on the girl ever since she had moved to Royal Woods when they were both in 8th grade. Luna had been meaning to confess her feelings for awhile but never had the guts to do it. However, one day a few months ago, Luna’s 11 year old brother, Lincoln, found a love letter in their mailbox that had been addressed to “L. Loud”. Luna and her ten siblings were all excited and since they are all “L. Loud”, they were all curious to find out who the letter was for. Luna’s 8 year old sister, Lucy, had the excellent idea for everyone to give their crushes tokens of affection so that more letters would be sent so that the Loud siblings could narrow down who it was for. Luckily, Lucy’s idea worked as the family received more letters. Eventually, the Loud siblings had narrowed down that all of the letters were meant for Luna due to the fact that the secret admirer spoke of someone who had brown hair, who loves all things British, and who loves music. Luna was confused with how the letter could be meant for her since she never sent any tokens or signals to Sam because she was afraid that she would react negatively if she was not into girls or if she did not feel the same way. Yet, the letter described Luna perfectly so she decided to go to Bangers and Mash, where her secret admirer told her to meet up for a date.

Upon initially not being able to find Sam but her own parents instead, Luna and her ten siblings soon learned that all of the love letters were actually from their own mother and that they were for their own father. Luna was a bit bummed out that she was not going on a date with Sam, but her mother’s story of being too nervous to talk to the man of her dreams but eventually winning him over with her love letters totally inspired her. It was that in that moment, Luna realized that she needs to stop waiting around for Sam and that she needs to stop being a chicken and finally talk to her about her feelings. So of course, like her mother, she began to do this through love letters. Luna is too nervous to let Sam know that she is the one who has been sending her love letters so until Sam figures out that it’s her or until Luna feels confident enough to finally sign her name on a letter or tell Sam that it’s her, she will remain anonymous.

“Hey, Lunes, are you ready to rock it today in band?” That voice that Luna always found to sweet and cool asked, interrupting Luna’s daydreaming.

“Oh, hey, dude!” Luna cooly replied as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and slammed her locker shut, “Yep, I’m totally ready, mate! I’m so excited for Ms. B to give us a new piece today! I really wish that we had band first period instead of second period.”

Since Luna and Sam have been classmates and good friends since 8th grade, Luna has mastered the skill of remaining cool around her crush. However, every once in awhile, her cool does slip from her when she’s around Sam.

“Yeah, it’s totally bogus that I have to sit through a whole period of chemistry before band!” Sam complained.

“Yeah and you have Mr. Carter too, don’t ya?” Luna asked.

Sam nodded.

“Man, that really bites.”

“Yeah, he’s totally insane! I swear he can’t even teach! All he ever does is goes on rants about the most bizarre things and expects us to ace every test despite of that! Dude, you have no idea how lucky you are to have Dr. William and not Mr. Carter for chem!”

“Man, that’s rough. And yeah, Dr. William is a really cool dude. I wish that you were in my class.”

“Me too, dude.”

Then all of the sudden, the bell rang. Sam and Luna started to make their way towards their first period classes. Luna has Algebra 2 first period and lucky for her, that’s on the way to Sam’s chemistry class, allowing for the two to walk to class together.

“But anyways, you looked totally spaced out when I walked up to you,” Sam pointed out. “What were you thinking about?”

“Should I tell her about the letter?” Luna thought to herself. “I really want for her to be my secret admirer so if she’s not, I’m going to be really bummed.”

“I-I u-umm...” Luna managed to stutter out as the two began to climb up the stairs that lead to the second level where both of their classrooms were.

“I totally understand if you don’t want to share,” Sam told Luna, realizing how uncomfortable her question made her friend.

Suddenly, a sense of confidence came over Luna. “Well, if it was her, if I don’t speak up now, I may never find out.”

“Well, I did find a love letter in my locker today,” Luna finally said as she revealed the envelope and letter that she had folded up in her hand.

They then reached the second floor and Sam suddenly began to twist her blonde hair with her fingers as she and Luna continued to walk to class. It was a cute little habit of hers that always drives Luna wild. “Wow, that’s awesome, Luna! Do you have any idea who it’s from?”

“No unfortunately. Whoever wrote the letter signed it as “Your Secret Admirer”. I just found it a few minutes ago so I haven’t had the time to try and figure out who it’s from.”

“Man, that’s sure is a bummer!”

“Yeah, I know right? Well, I mean the last time someone told me that they liked me was all the way back in 4th grade so it’s still really rad that someone’s even crushin’ on me.”

“Well, anyways, I gotta get to chem unfortunately.”

“Ok, see y-”

Luna had been cut off by the sudden embrace of her crush and good friend. Sam normally was not much of a hugger so it completely surprised her. However, the hug was quick so Luna did not have time to react and hug Sam back.

“You know, I really am excited for you, dudette,” Sam admitted as she let go of Luna and started to walk towards her Chemistry class. “See ya in band, Lunes!”

“O-ok, s-see y-ya l-later!” Luna managed to reply as she stood there, confused for a few seconds.

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(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

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Check out “Lincoln’s Concert Catastrophe”!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

[leoswritingcorner]

runnin’ wild (chapter two)

okay. i’ve given up on DA, for posting my stories. from now on, they’ll be featured on here, and I’ll be making a page on my tumblr, and folder for them. DA is dead to me for now.

BUT UHH, i did not forget this story. In fact, more inspiration struck for this, than ADH so here we gooo! more awesome babes to come along soon!

Jamie claps a hand over her mouth and coughs. Tears spring in her eyes, as she pulls away from the bar. Vergil is quick to catch the shot glass that teetered over the counter edge.

“What…” Jamie wheezes. “What in the world is that?!” She warily eyes the giant unnamed bottle of liquor that Vergil had just poured from. The younger man grins and pours himself some into a new shot glass.

“Moonshine.” He replies easily.

Jamie blanches. “Moonshine?!” She repeats in a whisper, and looks around the speakeasy quickly, as though her father may materialize on the spot at any moment. “Where’s Lucky?” She asks. Vergil downs his shot and winces, letting out a ‘woo damn!’ and points to the back room, wiping his lips with the sleeve of his shirt.

“What is she thinking?” Jamie sighs, taking her purse as she heads into the backroom. The sounds of steam hissing and copper whistles greet her as she swings the door open, Lucky hoping around different rubber tubes, fanning a large still.

Jamie spots Lucy stirring a large pot, where a very pungent odor wafted from. “This is the big surprise?” She speaks up, placing a hand on her hip.

Both Lucy and Lucky freeze, their heads slowly turning to face her. Lucky looking more sheepish than the wide and bright smile Lucy had on her face. “Hey, Jamie…” Lucky greets, wiping her hands on the sides of her pants. “Um…ya see, this…” She clears her throat and blows out a breath. “Wow. There just ain’t no way to really lie about this.”

Jamie pinches her nose. “You think? There’s a large still here in the middle of the room and Vergil is ready to serve moonshine.”

Lucy shrugs. “You’re the one who said the runners are skipping over us. We have to make do somehow.”

“But moonshine?” Jamie questions, now covering her mouth and nose fully with both of her hands. Again, she looked over her shoulders to see if Sheriff Jameson appears from thin air. She speaks in a more hushed tone as she went on “It’s bad enough you’re running a speakeasy during the prohibition.”

Lucky sighs, casting her eyes heavenward. “I know. But it ain’t so easy to just waltz out of all of this and start living on an honest wage. Half the shops here have gone outta business. The only thing holdin’ up this Godforsaken town is that coal mine. Don’t ya think I’d love to be living more honestly? To be back Savannah, maybe going to college or helping my grandpa with the ranch? But I’m stuck here, Jamie.” Lucky finishes. Shaking her head, she pulls on the newsboys cap. “Sorry.” She mutters, passing by her friend and out to the main hall.

Lucy covers the pot she had been stirring. “It’ll end up fine. Somehow in the end, we always end up on top.” She says. Jamie watches as the door shuts.

“I don’t know this time, Luce. But I really hope you’re right.”

*

“What do yah mean there was no runners, Kenneh?!” Eric bellows into the phone.

Stan cringes and looks to Kyle. The redhead stays quiet and takes another count of the dwindling supply of alcohol.

“You’re lyin’! You just got there late and missed them! Cause you were with that stupid French whore!” Eric’s ranting continues. A glass comes flying out of the office and shatters against the wall. The echo of the phone slamming down rings through the tiny building. Much like a rampaging storm, Eric all but bulldozes his way into the room.

“Son of a fuckin’ bitch!” He shouts at no one. He turns his attention to the shelf of alcohol and sees the remaining five bottles. “What the hell are we supposed to do with that?!” He gestures wildly to the shelf, stomping a foot. A few harsher words leave his mouth before he pulls his hat off to scream into it.

“So.” Stan starts after Eric begins to catch his breath. “What’s going on?”

Eric frowns. “Apparently, the runners are skipping over South Park entirely.” He gets out through gritted teeth. At that, both Stan and Kyle pause.

“What? Why?” Kyle asks.

“I don’t know, Kahl!” Eric snaps back. “I bet that stupid bastard Sid has something to do with it, though.” He adds, crossing two large arms over his chest.

Kyle shakes his head. “You can’t blame him for every little thing.”

“Yes, I can!”

Stan holds up his hands. “Listen, I’ll head down there and talk to him. I’ll see if he’s gotten the same news or not.”

Eric only waves him off, before storming back into his office.

If this was Sid’s way of trying to run him into the ground, he had another thing coming. Punch n’ Pie was his, and the only thing that kept a steady inflow of cash…though Eric preferred much more than what he was getting. Maybe he could dip into Kyle’s paycheck a bit more. Kenny’s too. He was poor enough as it is…

The sight of a white card laying on his desk catches his sight. That card had not been there before, he knows. Snatching it up, he reads the find red ink letters on it.

‘We can help. More liquor, more patrons, more cash. All for an easy price. Call us, ask for L.’

Eric looks around his office. The window was shut firmly, just as it had been before. No sign of anyone else stepping foot inside. It’s unsettling, but Eric finds himself tucking the card away into his coat pocket for later.

*

Lucas winces and forces himself to hold in a cough. Vergil lifts a brow.

“Shit.” Lucas wheezes, letting out a whoop of a cough, his shoulders hunching over. Vergil nods in agreement.

“Mighta made it stronger than it used to be.” He explains. “But it’ll get the job done. Pretty sure these miners don’t care. Long as they get drunk.”

Lucas tugs at his collar and nods. “It sure will.”

“What the hell are you doing here.” Craig’s voice speaks up. Lucas and Vergil turn to the doorway, to see Stan Marsh standing there, a tired look on his face.

“I just wanna talk with Sid.”

This time, Vergil frowns and comes around the bar. “The hell ya want with my brother?” He demands. He may not have had as many muscles as Stan, or Craig placed together. But he did have height and that had to have count for something. He holds himself high and crosses his arms.

Stan sighs. “I want to ask him a question.”

“What kinda question?” Vergil asks back. Stan rubs the bridge of his nose, swearing under his breath.

“Is he here or not?”

Vergil opens his mouth, only to let out a grunt as Lucky jabs her elbow into his side. Her wig and hat placed on neatly as she looks up to Stan. “What’s your question, Mash?” She asks, toning her voice down.

Stan never met a man so short before, but Sid Day demanded attention when he wanted it. He stood there, eyes narrowed, and chin lifted high.

“The runners.” Stan says. “Did they stop supplying you, too?”

Lucky scoffs. “Oh, now’s when y’all are just getting the news?”

At that, Stan swears again. “Well that answers my next question…”

“That if we were paying them to stop supplyin’ y’all and only us?” Lucky asks back with a dry laugh. “Stan, we barely make enough to even buy a can of tuna, let alone pay off the runners. Tell that asshole he ain’t gotta worry about me. Worry about himself.”

Stan stands there for a moment, a smile coming to his face. “Good to know. How are you gonna hold up?”

Lucky shakes her head. “Like I said, worry about yourselves.”

Stan leaves, and Craig shuts the door with a decidedly loud thump. Lucky rubs her eyes and groans. “C’mon, Verg. We still got more jugs to fill up.”

Heading to the backroom, Lucky slows to a stop when she spots a white card sitting at the end of the bar counter. “Where’d this come from?” She asks, picking it up.

“Uh.” Lucas says, blinking his eyes a bit.

Lucky stares at him. “Ya didn’t see where this came from? Or who even left it?”

“I think you…might’ve made this, well, too strong. Cause I’m seeing five of you.” Lucas says. Lucky shakes her head and reads over the card.

‘We can help. More liquor, more patrons, more cash. All for an easy price. Call us, ask for L.’

[lincolnbrendt]

self para || mad world

Day 1:

“It’s only the first day, Linc, it’s totally normal for her to stay out.” Daisy’s voice was always so well controlled that he didn’t know if she believed the words she was saying. She probably didn’t, he told himself. “You know she’s been through a lot. She just needs a break.”

Lincoln nodded silently as he watched the redheads fingers move nimbly through Mallory’s blonde hair, twirling them into two plaits. He must have zoned out when they’d cleaned the blood out of it. That made it easier for him to breathe every time he looked at her.

Daisy left, not trying to say anything further to Lincoln. A gesture he appreciated because he didn’t know if he remembered how to speak anymore. Lucy came out from behind the curtain as Adam’s mother’s voice was heard in the distance. His sister might have said something to him, but he couldn’t tell. The woman he’d come to know as Nicole held out a black coffee from the machine for Lincoln.

“You seem to need it,” she spoke in a gentle voice, smiling at Lucy who thanked her on Lincoln’s behalf. Lincoln wondered wryly how much the woman would smile if she knew she was in the same room as her future grandchild with absolutely no clue. “And Ms. Brendt, dear, I do hope you and your baby are doing well. I can’t imagine what you went through.”

If he’d had any energy, he would have nearly scoffed.

The woman and her husband disappeared to talk to their son and his jaw tightened as he heard Adam’s voice. It was a selfish thought of him to have, but he thought he might have swapped Mallory’s place with his in a heartbeat. After the idea passed his mind he began tugging at his own hair, hating himself for being so selfish but he couldn’t help it he couldn’t help it he didn’t mean to think that.

“Hey, Lincoln, hey come on stop, hey stop doing that.” It was Lucy’s voice that broke through the waves of guilt he felt, bringing him back to reality.

“No no no no I thought something bad I thought a bad thing.”

“What bad thing Lincoln? Lincoln what bad thing?”

And just like that, he snapped out of it, making himself take a deep breath.

“Never mind. I just… I d-do-d-don’t r-r-rem-member.” A lie, but one that was for the best. The concern on Lucy’s face became more prevalent than before, and Lincoln forced a smile. “I-I’m go-g-gonna go get s-some foo-f-food. I’ll be back soon.”

Day 3:

It had been far too long since Lincoln had shaved or showered or done anything to take care of himself. He couldn’t do anything but sit there, wasting away in the chair as he watched the line on Mallory’s heart monitor go up and down. Empty coffee cups sat on the desk behind him, broken poems scribbled on the side as he’d always done for Mallory before.

It was only day 3.

People were still telling him to hold onto hope. That this was nothing out of the ordinary.

He wondered if they understood that the only reason he survived the weeks without her before was by knowing she was a phone call away and knowing that once he was brave enough to face her and his mistake they would be fine.

He wondered if they understood that the labyrinth his mind had become over the years was unnavigable without the light she provided with her heartbeat.

He wondered if they understood that every day she stayed asleep, his sanity fled deeper and deeper into that labyrinth.

Day 5:

Sleep was no longer a concept Lincoln really remembered. He was downing a large coffee at least four times a day and even if he hadn’t been chugging so much espresso his mind wouldn’t have shut off long enough to allow him a rest more than the occasional hour long naps when he found himself bogged down by a vivid nightmare over and over again. Mallory, bloody and dead in his arms.

His knees were tucked up against his chest as he sat near her bed now. He was trying to read aloud from the book of his poetry he’d roughly constructed but the words and letters were floating around on the page as he tried.

In the distance - or perhaps right next to him he no longer cared enough to tell - he heard a nurse discussing his own health with someone who sounded like Logan. Then again it could have been Lucy or Daisy or anyone who wasn’t Mallory because Mallory couldn’t speak.

“We’re concerned that his lack of sleep combined with his autism and OCD could lead to… some sort of mental episode. What we can do is provide him with some sleeping medicine if you would authorize that, to just get him to rest. If he continues this way I… just don’t know.”

“It’s fine. I’ll sign off on it, but good luck selling him on it.”

Lincoln did not go down without a fight.

“Wake me up if she does,” he said weakly as his eyes fought off the darkness that encompassed him, only having been swayed after being told he could end up hurting himself or someone else if he kept on acting like this.

Day 6:

When he woke up he was in a stranger’s room, it was empty, dark and quiet. Looking down at his arm in the dimly lit room he saw wires and tubes connected to it and couldn’t contain the gag working its way up his throat.

“N-Nu-Nurse! Nurse!” He began yelling and not long after, a short man dressed in scrubs entered the room.

“Mr. Brendt, how are you fee-“

“Unho-Unhook m-me from th-this machi-m-machine,” Lincoln spoke impatiently.

“Oh I’ll have to make sure you’re well enough to-“

“If y-you don’t I w-will,” he threatened, holding his hand over the tubes which caused the nurse to come over quickly and begin unhooking him, bandaging the small patch where his incision was. With shaky legs, he stood up and left the room. He sighed in relief realizing he was just across the hall from Mallory, walking the short distance with legs that seemed to forget how to move.

Regardless, he found his seat left exactly where it had been when he left, and his coffee cups untouched in their stacks of five because five was a good number five made good things happen. Tapping his finger against his knee repeatedly he counted them out.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5.

Day 9:

Lincoln was laying in a bed, prepped for surgery after having kissed all of his sisters on the top of the head and waving a goodbye before he walked into the prep room.

“You’ll have to lay down for at least two days. And then for about four weeks, maybe six, you’ll need to take all physical activity to a minimum, no lifting more than 10 to 15 pounds, we don’t suggest intercourse during the recovery time, all around you’ll have to be careful standing long periods of time and take care of yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Abs-Absolutely.”

“I know there aren’t a lot of other options but I don’t want you to do this and regr-“

“Just take me back.”

“There’s a chance we may still lose h-“

“TAKE ME BACK!” Lincoln shouted. He was uninterested in hearing anyone talk about possibly losing Mallory.

“Okay…” The doctor still sounded hesitant, but the nurse who was pushing his bed had been there when Mallory’s kidneys began to fail. So had Lincoln. Within hours and a few tests that showed he was, remarkably, a match, the boy was in a hospital bed being rolled into surgery.

As he was pushed into the sterile, cold procedure room, he rolled his head to the side to see Mallory’s pretty blonde hair.

“Abou-out t-time I paid you back f-for saving me,” he whispered before they turned his head back upwards and placed a mask over his face.

“Okay dear, just count back from 10,” said a nice woman just behind his head.

He didn’t even make it to 8.

Day 11:

Lincoln could walk again, but instead he sat next to Mallory’s bed right where he always did. He thought he remembered Jean and Eddie thanking him over and over for what he did. He also thought it was silly for anyone to think he wouldn’t have given up both of his lungs and heart and liver and everything he had to give if it meant she would be brought back into the world.

He didn’t remember what being a person felt like anymore. He didn’t remember any sensations other than fear and panic and anger and exhaustion. He didn’t remember having any intentions other than to keep fighting while the love of his life did the same.

His sleep came in waves that day, brought on by the pain meds he still took every few hours. Between the periods of darkness when his mind finally escaped reality, Lincoln wrote poems upon poems upon poems. Desperate for the right words that might bring her back.

“Y-You just keep… k-ke-keep r-resting, L-Lov-Love. B-But pl-please come b-bac-back… I-I-I n-nee-need you…”

Sleep took him away again, unwanted but still appreciated, and in his dreams that night there was nothing. Emptiness, surrounded by nothing but pitch black. It was a welcome escape from the fear and sadness that had wracked his body every waking minute.

Day 12:

A man came in holding a bible.

Lincoln to the side, slightly numb to the whole experience but he was aware of what was happening. They were blessing Mallory, so if she did die, she would go to heaven. It caused his stomach to lurch, the idea that people were making preparations in the case of her death.

Lincoln had arrangements of his own, but he didn’t want to share those plans with anyone else.

“F-Father?” Lincoln has found himself following the man out of the room, limping slightly. “C-Can I as-ask you s-someth-something?”

The man turned around and faced Lincoln with a smile.

“Of course, how can I help you?”

“W-Well I-I um… so-s-so I’m n-not a v-ver-very re-r-relig-ligious p-perso-person, I don’t kn-know how it w-work-works ex-exactly but cou-c-could you t-tell G-Go-G-God s-someth-something for m-me?”

The man’s expression was patient as he nodded.

”What is it, Son?”

”I-I w-wan-wanted… I’ve w-wanted a f-fam-famil-mily my… who-whole l-life… b-but if…if-if Mal-M-Mallory c-c-co-comes-s b-back I will gi-g-give up my dr-drea-dream. He’ll n-nev-never h-hear me wi-w-wish for my own s-son or dau-d-daughter again. C-Coul-d y-you te-t-ell h-him that?”

The man’s face went from patient to devastated as Lincoln finished speaking.

”Oh, Dear boy, you poor thing…”

”I-I don’t want-t-t y-your pit-ty… Pl-Plea-ease j-just tell h-him?”

The man nodded, reaching out his hands to take Lincoln’s. Lincoln barely enjoyed physical contact from a stranger under normal circumstances and these circumstances were far from normal. So he flinched away, curling his hands into his chest. 

“I’ll tell him,” the man said, taking his own hands back. 

With a satisfied nod, Lincoln disappeared to return to Mallory’s bedside.

Day 14: 

Lincoln had to fight for the first time to keep Mallory on for just a couple more days. At that point, the only thing keeping her alive was the machine she was relying on for a heartbeat. 

 “P-Pl-Please-Please I-I’ll p-p-pa-pay f-fo-f-for-r it plea-p-p-p-pl-please ju-j-j-jus-j-just a c-cou-c-c-couple m-mo-m-more d-da-d-days!” 

His frantic voice swayed Mallory’s grandparents, agreeing to just a couple more days. Lincoln knew that in a couple more days if Mallory wasn’t awake he’d fight again and again until he had no fight left in him. Lincoln was stitching together the many loose pages on which he’d written countless poems during his time there. 

He figured that when she woke up she’d want to read them. It was a rare day for Lincoln, meaning it was one in which he was actually aware of the world beyond the four walls that boxed him into that room or beyond the line of vision between he and Mallory. 

Meaning when Mason Safaatauemana walked in with a pitiful look on his face, Lincoln had already lost patience for the boy who had found such disgusting delight in charming Mallory into a date ages ago. 

“Hey, man,” he started as he took a few steps towards Lincoln who, had he had even a drop less of self control in his body, may have growled at him. “I just wanted to swing by and say I was sorry, you know. For everything.” 

“L-Li-L-Like?” 

“Like... I wish I’d been able to do something to save her, or to stop it all, you know? I’m just-“ 

Rage bubbled in Lincoln’s head, boiling so loudly he was deaf to any other words Mason was saying. 

“A-Are you ki-k-Kidd-kidding?!” 

“What-“ 

“Are you KIDDING?!” Lincoln stood up now, putting a hand over his side with a groan. “You’re going to take this moment right here, this moment in which the love of my life is laying in bed because a deranged madman shot her and you’re going to turn it into a situation in which you could have been the hero of the cards had fallen right?!” 

“I’m sorry I-“ 

“You don’t get to be the hero in everyone’s story, Mason!! If anyone could have saved her it would have been ME!! There was nothing YOU of all people could do!” 

The sleepless nights that made days blend together like wet paint left him exhausted and had caught up to him, making this seem catastrophic. 

“I mean you, you just... you just run into people’s life and expect them to bend into whatever they need to be for you to fit with them. You never change to fit anyone! I changed to be your friend, to live with you, to get your stupid approval I change for EVERYONE I didn’t have to change for Mallory and you’re going to come in here saying you wish you’d been able to save her?!?” 

Lincoln shoved Mason’s shoulders, all of the anger he’d ever felt towards the redhead coming out as he continued shouting. 

“I mean seriously?! You ask her on a date just to try to fuck her and then you keep treating her and I like shit like we’re lesser than you because she didn’t want to fuck you and because I stutter and wasn’t one of your original friends!” Lincoln shoved him again and this time Mason held him back, keeping his hand on his shoulders to stop Lincoln from getting any closer. This only made Lincoln feel attacked and he swung, connecting his fist with Mason’s face. 

“Lincoln, Lincoln stop,” Mason pleaded, trying to keep him away while also trying to calm him down. “You don’t want to do this. You don’t want to start this right now.” 

“Stop telling me what I want to do! Nobody but me knows what I want to do!!!” 

By then Mason had gotten them out into the hallway, away from the medical equipment and away from Mallory. 

“I know what I want to do! You don’t and Lucy doesn’t and the nurses don’t! I don’t want to be here without Mallory don’t tell me what I want!” 

Another swing, another fist slamming into Mason’s face. The redhead clenched his jaw, clinging onto reality so he wouldn’t blackout. 

“Lincoln please, please I don’t want to blackout I could hurt you I could kill you!” 

At the thought of Mason killing him, Lincoln punched him again, harder than before and this time in the gut. 

“Then kill me! KILL ME!!!” Lincoln was screaming now, his voice shrill and drawing the attention of the other patients and some of the nurses. “Please, Mason if I’m your friend at all - if I’ve ever been your friend then kill me I don’t want to live without her I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t be me without her I would rather DIE!” 

Another punch, this time in the side and Mason finally shoved him away, backwards and into the arms of Hunter, who sighed and lined a syringe up against Lincoln’s neck. 

“Somebody please just kill me I don’t want to live without her please Mason, please please just do it promise me you’ll do it!” Even as he was stuck in the neck with medicine meant to sedate him, it took a few moments to work its way through his large body. “Mason I thought you were my friend please I just wanted you to kill me!” His words were sobs as his legs grew weak and Hunter enlisted Mason’s help in carrying him back into Mallory’s room. 

Adam was long gone by then, and they lifted him into the bed right next to Mallory. 

“Please,” his voice was a whimper as his eyes fought to remain open. “Someone just kill me...” 

Day 15 - Evening: 

Lincoln’s sanity was slipping again. After the breakdown the night before, it seemed to fall between his fingers like sand in a widespread hand. Slipping quickly, falling back towards the ground with nothing but gravity to stop it. He was sat in his chair when a nurse he didn’t recognize entered the room. She must have been new. That was okay, he told himself, Daisy wouldn’t let anyone but the best near his girl. He knew that much was true. 

Still, as she acknowledged his presence with a nod and wave before going about refilling Mallory’s IV, Lincoln couldn’t do anything but rock back and forth in his still chair. His arms hugging his own chest like that could keep him together as he rocked. 

“C-C-C’m-C’mon M-Ma-M-Mal-Mal... y-y-you don’t ha-h-have m-much time-ti-time l-lef-l-left... You nee-n-need to c-come ba-b-back to me...” He murmured over and over again as he stared at Mallory. The nurse looked at him with sadness in her eyes. 

“You been waiting a while for her?,” she asked kindly. Lincoln didn’t respond. “Well you know, Darling, she can feel your stress. You can’t put too much pressure on her.” 

It was as if someone had pressed the pause button on Lincoln’s life as the nurse spoke. He stopped rocking, stopped muttering things below his breath, stopped existing (at least it felt as if he had). He sat there unmoving as the nurse finished up. She bid him a good night that fell on deaf ears, as he held himself together desperately with his long arms. 

As soon as he heard the door shut with a click, Lincoln began pounding his fist against his head, punching himself in the forehead repeatedly until the pain became a dull reminder of how much he had fucked up. By the time a bruise had started blossoming on Lincoln’s face, he was screaming. No words came out exactly, he was screaming in fury and anger and hatred, angry at himself, furious at himself, hating himself. 

His screams reached frantic levels, the top of his lungs as he now began using both fists against himself. 

“It’s my fault it’s my fault it’s my fault!!!” He screamed, even as he heard the door be thrown open and Harley stood there with sadness in her eyes. “IT’S MY FAULT TOO MUCH PRESSURE TOO MUCH PRESSURE IT’S MY FAULT SHES GOING TO DIE TOO MUCH PRESSURE!” 

Blood began trickling out of his forehead now and Harley frantically begged Declan to come pull him away and make him stop. 

“OH MY GOD I KILLED HER ITS MY FAULT TOO MUCH PRESSURE TOO MUCH PRESSURE ITS MY FAULT!!!!” 

He was screaming so loudly now that his voice cracked and Declan entered the room, wrapping his large arms around Lincoln’s and prying his hands away from his head. 

“IT’S MY FAULT MY FAULT MY FAULT!!!!!!!” He was sobbing through his shouts now as Declan pulled him out of the room and Lincoln spotted the nurse who had said that. “SHE SAID IT WAS MY FAULT SHE SAID THERES TOO MUCH PRESSURE I JUST WANTED HER TO KNOW I BELIEVED IN HER BUT ITS MY FAULT ITS MY FAULT SHE WON’T WAKE UP AND ITS ALL MY FAULT!” 

The nurse looked devastated as blood continued spilling down Lincoln’s face. She couldn’t have known such a reaction would come out of such a mild mannered man. 

“I’m sorry I-“ She started.

“MY FAULT MY FAULT MY FAULT!!!!!” 

Eventually, Declan had wrestled him far enough away and locked him into a position which only exhausted Lincoln’s body if he tried to continue fighting. Instead of thrashing around anymore he became limp in the much bigger man’s arms and sobbed. 

“I just wanted her to know I believed she would come back she’s running out of time it’s all my fault...” 

Harley tried comforting him, using any words she thought may help but nothing changed how hard he cried. Not until he cried himself out in Harley’s arms (who had taken over once he’d stopped throwing his arms around). 

“I-I-I-I c-ca-c-can-can’t b-be ar-a-arou-a-around her anym-m-more.” 

“No Lincoln that’s not-“ 

“It’s m-my-my f-fau-f-fault I have t-to s-sta-s-stay away.” 

Nobody said anything else, letting him sit there and cry himself dry until he eventually decided he’d sleep in the waiting room. “I ha-h-have to stay aw-a-away...” 

Day 19: 

It was the end. No amount of fighting from Lincoln would change her grandparents minds anymore. Something about wanting to end the suffering she was going through and making sure she got into God’s Kingdom. It wasn’t an answer he was willing to accept but nothing was when it came to ending the life of the one person he had no intention on living without. They delivered the news as soon as he’d woken up that morning, wrapped in a bundle of blankets outside of Mallory’s room so his presence hold risk her recovery. 

All he remembered of his reaction was a scream so loud he no longer had a voice, only enough to croak out responses to people who spoke to him. He sat with his knees curled to his chest, tugging on his hair for hours as the world moved around him without him being present in it. People went in and out of Mallory’s room and Lincoln couldn’t do anything but watch their feet move past him.

Lily came up to him and sat beside him on the dirty ground. 

“Big brother, what’s wrong? Why is everyone crying?” 

Lincoln didn’t know if he was crying or not, his mind was desperate to shut down in order to protect itself. 

“Mallory’s going away, Lil,” Lincoln barely got out past the scratches in his throat. 

“Oh... Forever?” 

Lincoln nodded, letting out a sob into his fist as he did. Lily threw her arms around him.

“Hey, Mallory always said that when something sad happened, something good would come right after, right?” 

Another nod and another sob into his fist as he wrapped one arm around Lily. He didn’t want to give her up, he didn’t want to say goodbye to any of his sisters - in fact if anyone in the world would keep him there it would be them, but when he thought of a world without Mallory all he could see was himself wrapped up in a blanket on his mattress until he died of starvation or exposure or whatever it was people died from when they lay there unmoving for an endless amount of time, becoming nothing more than a vegetable, a burden on an already burdened family.

They sat there embracing until Eddie came over.

“Lincoln... If you... wanted to say goodbye.”

Goodbye.

The word washed over him like a tidal wave, pinning his body to the ground with some combination of horror and dread. Still, he stood up.

“H-He-Hey, go s-sit w-wi-with y-your si-s-sisters, L-Li-Lily, I’ll b-be out s-soo-s-soon.”

The young girl nodded, squeezing his waist before running off to sit with the other Brendt siblings. 

“Take as long as you need,” Eddie said, squeezing Lincoln’s hand. Lincoln nodded, going into the room and shutting it behind him. He took his spot in the chair that, at that point, had become molded to his shape. 

“I tried so hard, Baby,” he choked out through stutters and a hoarse voice, holding his hand tightly in his own. “I really tried so so so hard, I fought so hard to keep you here. I’m so sorry.” He was bawling almost immediately, barely able to get the words past his lips. “I just want you to be back here with me. I just want to hold you. I just want to kiss you and tell you how much I love you.”

His hands shook as he took the ring box out once more. “I know it’s probably selfish of me, to ask that you die with this on, but I don’t plan on being apart for long once you do, and I want you to have it in wherever there is after all of this.” 

He slid the ring on her finger and cried as he held it to his lips, pressing kisses against her cold skin, perfect even as she neared death. 

“Mallory I have so many things to thank you for and not enough time to say them all. Thank you for opening the door into my coffee shop that morning so long ago and walking into my life, thank you for changing the person I am, for making me a better - no the best version of myself. Thank you for holding my hand when it shakes and for finishing a game of mini golf with me when no one else ever has before. Thank you for sitting patiently with me as I try to spit out my order and for never being embarrassed by the person I am even though I’m embarrassed by the person I am. Thank you for being the one person in my life who knew how to fix all of the broken pieces of me, and thank you for not just knowing how to do it but for doing it. Thank you for loving a man who didn’t think of himself as worthy to be loved and thank you for kissing me even on the darkest days my mind had. Thank you for always seeing what was best for me and for doing it but mostly thank you for being the other part of me who I’ve been searching for for 22 years. For fitting every crooked edge and every shattered side I had. Thank you for completing me in a way I’ve never known.”

Tears were pouring down his cheeks as he pressed his lips against her forehead.

Once.

Twice.

A third, fourth and finally...

A fifth time.

“Please, Mallory, forgive me for what I am going to do when I leave this room. Find it in that beautiful soul to love me again even in death and to forgive me for being such a coward that I can’t live without you.” He was gripping her hand tightly now, sobbing into her hair. 

“Forgive me for not loving you for every moment I could have, and for taking for granted the love you gave me. I never will again. Forgive me for breaking your heart in a way I’ll never forgive myself for. Please, Mallory, when I see you again open your arms to me so that we can be together again.” 

As he squeezed her hand, he could swear she squeezed back but he knew that wasn’t possible - that such things only happened in dreams or movies or books. 

“This is not my goodbye, it isn’t,” he said adamantly. Tears fell onto Mallory’s porcelain face, dripping off of his cheeks. “I will see you again but in the meantime I love you I love you I love you.” He repeated the words over and over again, sobbing them out as he held her hand to his lips. 

He felt another squeeze, this time a bit more real. Maybe even a real one. 

“I love you I love you I love you,” he continued, his eyes trained on her face now, looking for any signs of movement. Her cheek twitched, as if she wanted to brush away one of the tears there on the skin. “Mallory?!” He reached out, wiping her face clear of his tears. Her lip moved now. He must be dreaming or dead already. There was no way this could be happening. “Mallory, Baby, Baby if you’re there I need you to do something baby, Mallory are you there?!” He watched as her eyelashes fluttered, as if they wanted to open. He let out a desperate sob, punched himself in the leg to see if he was awake. He was. “Mallory, Baby that’s it, that’s it please, Mal, please I just need to see your eyes.” 

He gripped her hand with nearly white knuckles, whispering please over and over to herself. Then, there they were. Her blue eyes blinking against the light of the room. Lincoln fell backwards, tripping over the chair and landing with a THUMP on his butt, he scrambled back up. 

“You did it, oh my god you did it you came back, Baby I knew you’d come back oh my god you’re so strong you’re so strong!” Lincoln was sobbing, kissing Mallory’s hand once more before rushing towards the hallway. Before he ran out, he took one last glance at Mallory. “I’ve missed your eyes,” he whispered before disappearing into the hall.

“Do-D-Doctors-s-s! Nur-N-Nu-Nurses! G-Go-G-God-d-d!!! Whoe-Wh-Whoever will li-l-liste-l-listen!!!” A crowd of people, most of them his friends and a few others were nurses and a doctor who’d run to see the commotion. “Sh-She’s ali-a-alive.” 

With those words, so much relief flooded through his body that he fell limp to the floor as cheers erupted around him and the doctor, along with the nurses, ran past him into Mallory’s room. He slipped into unconsciousness with the first genuine smile he’d had in 19 days.

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/united-states-of-america/joe-biden-facebook-n-f-l-draft-your-thursday-briefing/

Joe Biden, Facebook, N.F.L. Draft: Your Thursday Briefing

(Want to get this briefing by email? Here’s the sign-up.)

Good morning,

We’re covering Joe Biden’s long-awaited campaign announcement, the brewing fight between the White House and Congress, and a potential $5 billion fine for Facebook.

Mr. Biden, 76, is set to offer himself as a moderate and a trustee of former President Barack Obama’s legacy, which he will hope can attract a broad cross-section of voters who want to move on from President Trump. But his long political record is expected to face intense scrutiny, particularly from younger, more progressive Democrats.

The details: We examined where Mr. Biden stands on the issues, and how his views have changed over nearly 50 years in Washington.

Closer look: The Democratic Party has grown increasingly progressive and diverse since Mr. Biden first ran for the Senate in 1972.

President Trump vows to fight “all the subpoenas”

The Trump administration has made a series of moves this week to block multiple investigations, which could redefine Congress’s power to conduct oversight of the executive branch as well as presidents’ power to keep government affairs secret.

Citing the end of the special counsel’s investigation, Mr. Trump said on Wednesday that he had been investigated enough. “These aren’t, like, impartial people,” he said. “The Democrats are trying to win 2020.”

Closer look: Past administrations have also been reluctant to comply with congressional requests, but Mr. Trump’s actions are unusual, our chief Washington correspondent writes.

News analysis: The president once welcomed the special counsel’s report as a “total exoneration,” but he has shifted to calling it a “total ‘hit job’” produced by “true Trump haters.” Our chief White House correspondent examines Mr. Trump’s increasingly incongruous messaging about the findings.

Another angle: The special counsel’s report also revealed that Mr. Trump repeatedly sought to have the Justice Department reopen an investigation into Hillary Clinton and her use of a private email server.

The timing of a potential fine was unclear. Facebook has been in negotiations with the F.T.C. over a financial penalty for claims that the company violated a 2011 privacy consent decree.

American regulators have been criticized as lacking scrutiny of tech giants, even as their European counterparts have moved aggressively against the companies.

Quotable: “This would be a joke of a fine — a two-weeks-of-revenue, parking-ticket-level penalty for destroying democracy,” said Matt Stoller, a fellow at the Open Markets Institute, a think tank that is critical of tech companies’ powers. Facebook had $56 billion in revenue last year.

Sri Lanka faces new threats

Imams in the country are being encouraged to cancel Friday Prayer services after the police said that they had information that Sufi Muslims could be attacked by Islamist extremists. Cardinal Malcolm Ranjith of Colombo, the capital, has suspended services for Roman Catholic worshipers through the weekend.

The American ambassador to Sri Lanka, Alaina Teplitz, said on Wednesday that there were “ongoing terrorist plots,” days after suicide bombers killed more than 350 people at churches and hotels across the country.

Another angle: After the Easter Sunday attacks, Muslims in some areas of Sri Lanka are facing a backlash from gangs of Christians. The two faiths are small minorities in the country, which is predominantly Buddhist.

If you have 5 minutes, this is worth it

Working in the weed industry

While cannabis is still illegal on a federal level, it’s allowed at least for medical purposes in 33 states. And that’s creating hundreds of thousands of jobs, ranging from farm work to executive positions to “budtenders,” who help customers decide what kind of cannabis they want.

But working in the industry comes with caveats, including stigma and a pay cut.

Here’s what else is happening

North Korea-Russia meeting: The North’s leader, Kim Jong-un, met with President Vladimir Putin in Russia today. Mr. Kim is seeking support for sanctions relief and a gradual approach to nuclear disarmament that the Trump administration opposes.

Measles outbreak: The number of cases has risen to 695 — the highest annual number recorded since 2000, when the disease was declared eliminated in the U.S. The virus mostly has affected families that do not vaccinate their children.

White supremacist’s execution: John William King was put to death in Texas on Wednesday for the murder of James Byrd Jr., who was chained to the back of a pickup truck and dragged to his death in 1998.

Snapshot: Above, the Grand Organ at Notre-Dame in Paris last year. The cathedral’s three primary organists initially feared that the instrument — which has five keyboards and almost 8,000 pipes — had been destroyed in the fire that devastated the building last week, but technicians have confirmed that it is safe.

N.F.L. draft: Here’s a preview of the first round tonight. A talented class of rookies is led by the Heisman Trophy-winning quarterback Kyler Murray.

“Jeopardy!” champion: James Holzhauer has won more than $1 million in just 15 games, putting him second on the all-time earnings list. The Times spoke to him about his aggressive strategy.

Late-night comedy: Several of the hosts noted a meeting in which President Trump reportedly asked Twitter’s chief executive why he had been losing followers. “It’s like breaking the news to a child that Santa isn’t real,” Trevor Noah said. “It’s like, ‘Sir, you’re 72 now, so I think you’re old enough to know the truth: @MIKHAIL_62875 isn’t a real person.’”

What we’re watching: This TED Talk by Mariah Gladstone, a member of the Blackfeet Nation. “She’s also a cook with a degree from Columbia,” says our national food correspondent, Kim Severson, “who started a cooking show called ‘Indigikitchen’ to help people remember what food was like before colonization: locavore paleo.”

Now, a break from the news

Cook: Korean barbecue flavors inspire this easy meatball recipe.

Listen: In his “Ring” cycle, Wagner uses musical themes to create a world of gods, heroes, dwarves and giants. Here’s how.

Go: With few exceptions, musical comedies today are comedic only in the sense that the protagonist doesn’t croak, and musical only in the sense that he does. The new “Tootsie” is an exception, one of our critics writes.

Read: The humorist Dave Barry describes emulating his dog’s grace in “Lessons From Lucy,” which is new this week on our hardcover nonfiction and combined print and e-book nonfiction best-seller lists.

Smarter Living: Apologies are complicated. The urge to be polite undermines your confidence, critics say, and underscores your own insecurity. But context matters, and saying sorry isn’t always a bad thing.

And eating better can change your mood.

And now for the Back Story on …

He-he-helium

This is the International Year of the Periodic Table, so named by the United Nations to honor what is considered the 150th anniversary of a crucial discovery by a Russian chemist, Dmitri Mendeleev.

In 1869, he published the first recognizable periodic table, arranging the 63 elements then known by increasing atomic number — the total number of protons in an atomic nucleus — and in vertical stacks that corresponded to recurring patterns or properties.

That concise organization revealed and predicted many elemental dynamics, and the table became the foundation for chemistry, nuclear physics and other sciences. The periodic system is considered one of modern science’s most important achievements.

But it can also help to explain the chemistry behind a popular party trick: inhaling helium from a balloon to make your voice sound funny.

Helium is lighter than oxygen, enabling the vibrations of your vocal cords to travel more quickly, which shifts the resonant frequencies in your vocal tract to the higher end.

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Chris

Thank you To Mark Josephson, Eleanor Stanford, Chris Harcum and Kenneth R. Rosen for the break from the news. Katie Van Syckle wrote today’s Back Story. You can reach the team at briefing@nytimes.com.

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Today’s episode is about accusations against a Navy SEAL leader. • Here’s today’s mini crossword puzzle, and a clue: Operator of the world’s largest cargo airline (5 letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • “Caliphate,” a Times podcast series that followed our reporter Rukmini Callimachi’s work on the Islamic State, won a 2018 Peabody Award.

[5hfanfiction]

Flowers on my doorstep - Chapter 7

After a gruelling back and forth session with my new therapist, Demi, I headed to the auditorium to meet Camila. I was mostly looking forward to talking and joking around with her, as well as learning to play again, because today had been both mentally and physically exhausting and the younger girl always seemed so full of life and hope, despite everything she had to deal with.

I wondered if things were harder for here having to deal with her OCD, because this morning looked very tough. I noticed how sad and embarrassed she looked when she couldn’t control herself in performing her rituals in front of me, but I’ve been googling it and therefore already knew that it wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t stop. It made her feel better and sometimes people just needed to feel better.

I entered the auditorium from audience doors to see a pretty looking Camila sat on top of the shiny black grand piano, wearing a frilly floral patterned crop top with a shoulder cut off paired with light blue denim jeans that made her look, well…very nice. Camila was pretty.

“Hallo.” I called out, grabbing the girl’s attention.

“Hey Lauren!” Camila greeted cheerfully hoping of the piano and stumbling a bit before regaining her balance and giving me the jazz hands, making me laugh.

“Hi.” I greeted again coming to a stop in front of her with a friendly smile on my face. I didn’t want to look miserable. Lucy always said I looked miserable and that I should smile more, even when I wasn’t happy, which was a lot with her.

“You’re adorable.” Camila chuckled. I quickly looked down to the floor getting all flustered at Camila’s niceties. I wish everyone in the world was as nice as Camila. “How was physiotherapy?” Camila asked moving to the piano and spreading out our sheet music.

“Um- An-n-noying?” I second guessed, not sure how how to describe it or if that was the correct answer.

“Ahh, well that sucks.” Camila spoke empathetically. “Do you wanna come sit down and we’ll get started?” She said taking a seat on one half of the stool.

I nodded and made my way over and sat uncomfortably next to her. It was a bit too close for my liking, but I had to learn to play again. So I grin and bared it, ignoring the feeling of my heart pounding in my chest begging me to flee and the skin-crawling sensations running up my back.

“So, um, you can read notations okay, right?” Camila questioned, afraid of offending me.

“Mhmm.” I hummed, surprisingly that part of my brain stayed in tack. I just sometimes had trouble spelling words because I couldn’t remember them, but music was different there weren’t so many things like they’re were with words. Words had all these letters and rules, that I just couldn’t focus on and remember all at once.  “M-Moving my f-fingers all at the s-same is the hard part.” I showed her, trying to wiggle all my fingers at the same time and failing. It just looked like I had the shakes.

“So, your coordination sucks?” Camila said, finding the word I was originally looking for.

“Pretty m-much. You say ‘sucks’ a lot.” I pointed out laughing, because it was a joke.

“That’s because everything fucking sucks.” Camila stated with a firm nod.

“Not eve-ry-thing.” I reminded her, breaking down the word as I said it.  “Music is nice.” I told her, bravely lifting my fingers to the keys and playing a few notes of my favourite song to the best of my ability on the right hand.

“That’s really pretty.” Camila stated, even though I wasn’t playing at nearly the correct tempo, throwing the rhythm out of zinc because I couldn’t get my hands to move quick enough. “What’s it called?” She asked, making me happy, because no one ever asks they just complement it and move on with their lives not appreciating the fine art, that we call music, nearly enough.

“K-Kiss the rain by Yiruma.” I told her feeling completely endeared by the song and what it made me feel. It was so peaceful and made me feel alright, when things were definitely not alright. “I can’t p-play it that w-well though.” I shook my head.

“Practice makes perfect Lauren. How about we try a scale of C major first?”

“O-Okay.” I agreed, stuttering out of nerves more than anything this time, not that anyone would notice the difference.

“Alright, let’s see you play it first and then I’ll jump in..if need be.” Camila instructed. I lifted my right hand and attempted to scale a C major but it was difficult trying to tuck my fingers under each other and move swiftly up the keys.

“Sorry.” I apologised when I hit a bum note and removed my hand from the keys.

“Don’t apologise, it’s okay. Here, ” She lifted my hand but I flinched back when she did completely terrified, but my fear soon shifted into embarrassment at my own reaction, I went to apologise again, but Camila beat me to it. “I’m sorry, Lauren. It didn’t mean to-” Camila trailed off, not really sure what she had done. “Is it alright for me to touch you?” She asked. I wasn’t sure if she was clocking onto my reasoning behind my reaction. So I internally prayed that she wouldn’t ask or ever find out because I’d feel so ashamed having people know. Not many people knew. Just Normani, my immediate family, my therapist, Doctors and Ke. No-one else, not ever.

“Y-Yeah, sorry.” I apologised as she gently rested her hand above my and moved it towards the keys. Her hands were soft and warm against mine, which was a stark contrast against Lucy’s one, which would feel harsh and tight and cold. “Alright try and play it against, slowly.” She added and I began playing the scale as Camila watched and guided my hand helping me to hit the correct notes. “You’re doing good.” She praised with a reassuring smile, “maybe try and move your actual had rather than single fingers when moving up the keys?” She suggested as I was having trouble tucking my thumb under my fingers.

“Al-Alright.” I did as she said and moved my hand rather than tucking and moving along. It worked a bit better despite the delay between the scale.

“That was so great Lauren.” Camila praised clapping her hands excitedly, seeming genuinely happy for me. “Now let’s try and speed it up." 

Camila and I went on like that for the next two hours and with Camila’s help I was able to scale most of the piano with ease. I even taught Camila how to play a song, which she was really happy and bragging to me about as she walked me to my next class. "You know, you should watch out Jauregui, or I’ll be taking your place.”

I shook my head laughing at the younger girl’s antics. “You w-wish, Cabe-yoy-o.” I stuttered out accidentally, trying to copy the other girl’s use of our last names, but failing and bursting into laughter at how funny it sounded. “I’m so sorry.” I laughed, holding my hands up to cover my mouth. “Cabello-yoyo.” I reiterated cracking up again and causing Camila to burst out into laughter too as we stopped outside my class.

One thing I had noticed about Camila was that she was extremely nice, even without me deserving it. She never lost her temper, shouted or tried to hurt me, which was really reassuring when I was trying to make friends, but as much as I knew these things and was feeling slightly more comfortable hanging around Camila I still felt paranoid that at any moment she could snap and hurt me or worse not want to be my friend.

“Lauren?” Camila spoke pulling me from my thoughts and I realised I was staring off into the empty courtyard opposite us through the glass windows.

“Um- y-yeah? I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I was just saying that there’s a party tonight in the boys dorm and that guy Michael I told you about is going to be there. So would you, like, go with me?” Camila asked and I choked. I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there. I wasn’t ever allowed to to parties, because Lucy didn’t let me and the last time I did I was hurt really badly and I just couldn’t get over it. No matter how hard I tried to move on.

“I-I- um c-c-can’t.” I stuttered out, but felt bad at the disheartened look on her face when I rejected her offer, so I decided to give her a reason so she wouldn’t blame herself or feel like she had done something wrong. It wasn’t her, it was me. “It’s my b-brain.” I gestured to the stupidest part of my body. “It h-hurts..when there’s…lots of p-people and l-l-loud noises.”

“Oh!” Camila said and an emotion flashed between her eyes, but I didn’t know what it was, because I hadn’t know her that long. “Well that’s okay then. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Camila shifted awkwardly on her feet.

“D-Does it affect you a lot?” Camila asked quietly, like she was scared to ask the question.

“Yes.” I signed, telling the truth. There was no point lying considering Camila already knew the truth of my brain injury and I really needed a friend who understood me, now that Normani wasn’t around.

“Well that sucks.” Camila joked using that word again.

“H-how is it a girl with a brain injury has a better vocabulary than you?” I laughed trying to diffuse the tension.

“You’re just smarter, I guess.” Camila shrugged, “Hey, would you wanna go for coffee again after class?”

“Sure!” I nodded, happy that Camila actually wanted to hang out with me.

“Okay.” She laughed. “I’ll see you later then? Say hi to Dinah as well.” She said walking backwards down the hall.

“D-Dinah?” I questioned worriedly, even though I shouldn’t be because she helped me earlier.

“Yeah! She takes this class as well!” Camila shouted, before stumbling backwards and falling onto the floor.

“S-shit. Are you okay?” I called as Camila pushed herself to her feet.

“Pfft…me? I’m good. I was just checking if the gravity still worked. It does. Kay, bye!” She waved before disappearing down the hall, this time walking forwards, leaving me with a probably dopey smile on my face, before I too disappeared from the hall and into my lecture room picking a seat at the back of the class where I had less chance of being picked to answer questions.

I carefully pulled out my notebook and placed it gently on the pullout desk attached to my chair as well as grabbing a blue pen from out of my bag. I took a deep breathe and admired the quietness of the room and savoured the feeling of not doing anything, but the more in tune I became with my body the more I noticed the dull pain and aches running through my muscles.

You’d think I’d be used to this feeling by now, but you never get used to the feeling of not being able to be yourself, because not only did I have to overcome the physical barriers built up from my life I also had to get over the mental ones that had been built.

“AYE!! FLOWER GIRL!” A loud voice that I had become accustomed to hearing shouted marching up the stairs and shimming down the row of seats to sink down next to me. “How’s things going? Did you see Camila? How did the practice go? I didn’t know you took this class.” Dinah said bombarding me with a bunch of words that got tangled up in my mind as I tried to keep track of the words and what they meant.

“I- um…what?” I questioned, causing Dinah to pause and stare at me for a beat in that weird scrutinising way she does like she’s trying to solve a crossword.

“How are you?” Dinah asked this time sticking to one question.

“I am good, thanks. How are you?” I responded politely.

“Ugh!!” Dinah groaned throwing her head back in annoyance.

“What’s the m-m-matter?!” I asked panicked, thinking I’d done something bad.

“No. No.” Dinah shook her head without enlightening me. “Do not be one of those people who like to speak in dead end sentences and formalities.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I apologised feeling slightly confused because that’s how my mom had told me to greet people.

“So, how was your day?” Dinah asked again and I was confused because I had just answered that question and she was starting to make my head hurt. “Minus the bullshit.” She added.

“Erm…it’s been t-tiring.” I replied in more of a question than an answer.

“Because of your physiotherapy?” Dinah questioned in a know-it-all tone of voice.

“Um- yeah.” I whispered an agreement feeling slightly embarrassed that she knew I had to go to those types of things, because a clear indication of something being wrong with me and Dinah seems loud so I didn’t want her to go telling people things. What if Camila has told her what’s wrong with me? The thought popped into my head and I quickly stood up to go and find Camila because she needed to know that she couldn’t tell her, but what if Dinah already knew?

“Whoa…where are you going? Class is literally about to start.” Dinah said gesturing to the man setting up his computer at the front of the class.

“To f-find Camila.” I explained p, because I really needed to tell her, because it was important.

“Now? Can’t you just text her or something?” Dinah offered slowly analysing me and I slowly began to realise how strange I was appearing at that moment, so, I sat back down in my seat, like a normal person, and nodded my head at Dinah’s suggestion.

“Okay y-yeah. I’ll do that.” I slid my phone out of my pocket and typed a text to Camila.

Lauren(2:03pm): Hii, its Lauren. Have u told Dinah abowt my 'thing’?

Camz(2:04pm): No, of course not. I didn’t think u wanted me too?

Lauren(2:06pm): Yor right. Don’t tell her, thanks. Bye.

I breathed a sigh of relief at Camila’s texted and slipped my phone away, only to notice Dinah staring at me…again. It was starting to worry me. What if she wanted to hurt me? I don’t like being hurt. So I shimmed as far away from her as I could in my seat as the professor started his presentation on social norms.

The college thought it would be good if I took sociology so I could learn more about people and society. I didn’t mind though because I found it fascinating and this professor didn’t talk to fast or use hard words so I was able to understand clearly what was going on.

Dinah didn’t say much else she just sat there writing loads and loads of information down and putting her hand in the air to ask the questions, whilst I wrote like a four year old and kept my notebook concealed from the girl. I think she likes this class and is very smart because no one else was saying or writing the things she was.

I wanted to write as much as her, because she seemed good at it and smart. I wanted to be good at things as well. I really wanted to be seen as smart again. I used to be very smart, I even graduated a year earlier than everyone else. Mostly so I could get out of school and move out form my parents house.

They wasn’t very accepting of me when I was younger because I liked girls and my mom said I shouldn’t and I was setting a bad influence for my siblings. She also said a bunch of nasty stuff, but we have made up now and she says she loves me, but I’m still not sure. Sometimes I think she only took me back because I almost died. That’s what Normani says. She doesn’t like my mother very much, because she kicked me out for being myself and loving who I loved- sometimes I wished I didn’t love who I loved, because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be where I am now.

-

After two brain scrambling, word following hours we began to pack up our stuff as people filtered out of the lecture hall chattering loudly. I stuffed my notebook into my backpack as Dinah arranged her piles and piles of notes.

“Well done today, Miss Hansen.” Our professor with a scrappy beard and brown hair turning grey said as he appeared at the end of our aisle. “You have done nothing but impress me so far.” The man applauded Dinah who slid her bag on her arm and beamed up at the professor happily.

“Really? Okay good. I wasn’t sure if I was barking up the wrong tree.” Dinah admitted with a nervous laugh.

“Y-you b-barked up all of the trees.” I mumbled out, feeling really jealous and angry.

“Sorry, what was that Mrs…?” He trailed off. “I’m sorry, I don’t appear to know your name. Have you always been in my class?”

“J-Jauregui. I- um just m-moved here.” I explained, dodging a bullet by distracting him with the new information.

“Oh yes! I remember now. How…Are…You…Doing?!” The man said shouting every word and talking slowly like you would to your hard of hearing grandmother.

“I’m okay, thanks.” I spoke monotonously, trying to resist giving him an eye roll.

“That…is…brilliant! I…look…forward…to…teaching…you.” He said breaking up his words, like I was an idiot who didn’t understand him. I understood most things! Just not the hard stuff. I didn’t suffer through two years of rehab nothing.

“Um- look Mr Jensen, we’d love to stay and chat, but we really have to get going.” Dinah said making up an excuse to leave, probably sensing the weirdness of the situation and my discomfort.

“Oh yes, yes. Go! By all means.” He said stepping back and giving us room to shimmy out of the space and down the stairs.

“Thanks professor, see you next lesson.” Dinah waved,

“Your welcome Dinah. I…will…see…you…later..Lauren.” The man shouted after me and I just put my head down and walked out the room trying to hide my embarrassment and shake Dinah as soon as I made my way into the open corridor. However my dumb legs had other ideas and refused to move fast enough. So the blonde haired girl quickly caught up with me as I marched across the courtyard.

“You okay? Ignore Mr Jensen, I think he’s on acid or something.” Dinah joked and I nodded my head avoiding eye contact. Did he really think I was that dumb? Could he tell I was deranged just from looking at me? I sure as hell could, I walked weirdly, I talked weirdly and I had a horrible looking scar along the top of my head.

“So…where are you going?” Dinah tried and I shrugged not really in the mood for talking as I made my way over to the cafe Camila had taken me too before, because I didn’t want to let brunette down.

“To meet C-Camila…if that’s okay?” I asked nervously in case she didn’t want me hanging out with her friend.

“Only if I can come.” Dinah said. I debated it, but agreed because I really wanted to see Camila.

“Okay.” I nodded.

“So, Your friend seemed…nice.” Dinah chuckled to herself.

“Yeah…that was Mani she can b-be a bit protective.” I tried excusing the Normani’s earlier behaviour and avalanche of slurs at Dinah.

“I noticed. You know she thought we did the dirty?” Dinah asked, biting back a laugh, but I didn’t get what she was saying.

“The dirty?” I echoed confusedly.

“You know Netflix and chill.” Dinah said, making no sense because we hadn’t watched Netflix. I didn’t even have a Netflix account. “OMG! You really have no idea what I’m talking about do you?!” Dinah exclaimed as I started at her blankly.

“Um- n-not really, n-no.” I shrugged.

“Jesus, where have you been the past two years?” Dinah shook her head as we walked for a few more moments in complete silence towards the café as I mustered up the courage to actually ask Dinah what it meant.

“W-What does Netflix and Chill actually m-mean?” I whispered quietly, feeling embarrassed.

“It’s a euphemism for sex, babe.” Dinah said ruffling my hair gently like I was a kid.

“Oh.” I nodded, turning red because she mentioned you-know-what, as we walked through the cafe door causing a ring to sound out upon our entrance. I scoured the room only to see Camila sitting at the same table we were at last time. “Ca-Ca-Camila is over there.” I pointed, before we headed over in that direction.

“What’s up, Walz? I crashed you’re date, I hope you don’t mind.” Dinah said pulling out the chair next to Camila and sitting in it.

“Shut the fuck up China.” Camila retorted as I sat down opposite her thankful for the rest, because my legs ere really starting to hurt. “It’s good to see you again Lauren.” Camila smiled that pretty smile she has showing her teeth.

“Hi.”'I mumbled out nervously.

“So i took the liberty of ordering you a hot chocolate.” Camila said sliding the mug over to me. “I would have got you one too Dinah, but I didn’t know you were coming.”

“That’s alright, The barista is cute so I don’t mind getting my own.” Dinah winked and got up to flirt with the guy behind the counter, leaving Camila and I alone at the table.

*Camila’s POV*

“I hope she didn’t drive you too mad.” I said taking a sip of the familiar smelling coffee.

“She didn’t.” Lauren spoke sweetly from the other side of the table looking up from the hot chocolate with her piercing green eyes peering over the top.

“Good, good.” I hummed, trying to think of something to say. I was never good at small talk.

“Where’s your other friend?” Lauren spoke up inquisitively, saving me from finding something to say.

“Ally? She would have just gotten out of class about now.” I said checking my watch for the time.

“You should invite her.” Lauren said, but their was an insistence to her voice so I didn’t argue and because I hadn’t seen my other best friend yet today.

“Yeah sure..okay.” I said pulling out my phone and sending a text to Ally.

Mily(4:12pm): Hey Alls! We’re in the cafe, come join us.

Allycat(4:12pm): Okay, I’ll see you there in a few 😘

“She’s coming.” I smiled warmly to Lauren and locked my phone. “So Dinah told me your friend threatened to kill her…more than once.” I bemused laughing at the idea of someone being crazy enough to take on Dinah.

“S-She wouldn’t, I promise. S-she was just joking…I think.” Lauren laughed, but made sure I was aware that no harm would come to Dinah. It’s was kind of cute how insistent Lauren was at times.

“Don’t worry about it. It would be interesting to watch.”

“I d-don’t think I would b-be.” Lauren shook her head scrunching up her eyes as she did so. “Normani is nice anyway. She would never hurt someone…only if they hurt me.”

“I don’t think anyone could hurt you.” I said looking over at the endearing green eyed girl with a pouty face.

“Yeah..no- never.” Lauren agreed with a weakness to her voice and it was then I remembered that Lauren had been hurt in one way or another. I didn’t know much about it though, but I doubted anyone actually injured the kind hearted girl sat before me. It was probably one of those freak car accidents or something, because weren’t they the leading cause of brain damage?

“Oh Lauren! I’m sorry..I didn’t mean-” I began to apologise profusely.

“Camila…it’s okay.” Lauren interrupted me with a small reassuring smile.

“Really?” I asked, I didn’t want to sound insensitive and I honestly had no idea how to approach these things or if I was even saying and doing the right things. I mean how was a person supposed to act around someone with a brain injury? “It’s just…I’m not sure if I’m doing this right…”

“Doing what right?!” Dinah spoke loudly appearing at my side with an espresso in hand.

“Oh you know….my New York accent! I was just showing Lauren.” I quickly made up a cover. “Watch. 'Are you talking to me? Are you talking to me?’” I joked in my most over the top accent.

“I can assure Lauren won’t be talking to you ever again if you do that accent one more time.” Dinah said shoving my shoulder and sitting back down.

“Rude.” I scoffed, “Lauren would talk to me, right Laur?” I said the accidental nickname slipping off the tongue.

“Um- no.” Lauren said shaking her head causing her dark locks to cascade down her face.

“I am offended!” I feigned insult, clutching my hand to my chest dramatically, causing Lauren to bust out into an adorable giggle.

“Ooh I like her Camila. Can we keep her?” Dinah cooed turning to me pleadingly.

“On one condition…Lauren gets to come to our Sunday morning brunch?” I fake debated with Dinah.

“Hmm…you drive a hard bargain, Cabello.” Dinah said pausing in thought as Lauren looked on at us with bright eyes. “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.” Dinah held out her hand and I took the gesture shaking it firmly.

“Welcome to the cool kids club, Lauren.” I said goofily, smiling at our new friend.

A/N: This section is a mess. And I’m more than aware of it, but sometimes you gotta know when to give up and move on…so here ya go lovelies and hopefully the next chapters better.

Wattpad: MidnightCrossing

[acelezz]

“L is For Luna” (Part 2): A Saluna Fanfic

Title: L is For Luna

Summary: When Luna finds a love letter in her locker, she hopes that it is her crush Sam, but is doubtful. With the help of her ten siblings, Luna will find out whether her dreams of being with Sam will ever be a reality or not.

Part: 2

Author: L-is-For-Loud-House

Fandom: The Loud House

Ship: Saluna (Luna Loud and Sam Sharp)

Timeline: A few months after “L is For Love”

Genre: Fanfiction/Romance

Word Count: 1,746

...

“Clack, clack, clack!” The sound of Luna hitting Lori’s blue high heels on the white dresser in Lori and Leni’s room went.

It was now 3:00 in the afternoon and all of the Loud siblings had just gotten home from school ten minutes ago. They all had been gathered into Lori and Leni’s room by Luna for a Loud Sibling Meeting. 

“I hereby call this meeting to order!” Luna announced.

“Lisa, can you read the minutes from the last meeting?” Lori asked the 4-year-old prodigy.

Lisa then proceeded to whip out a piece of paper which was a review of their last meeting. “Alright. Item one: It was resolved that in the matter of Lynn’s football-”

Lisa was then interrupted by Luna ripping the paper from her hands and crumbling it up into a ball. “Sorry, we don’t need to hear that today, Lise.” Luna then chucked the paper into the trash can. “Alright, so you’re probably all wondering why I gathered you all here today.”

“Whatever this is about, it better be good!” Lola hissed. “I was in the middle of practicing for my next pageant!”

“And I was in the middle of writing a new joke!” Luan added.

“And I was just about to go play in the mud!” Lana chimed in.

“And I was just about to read my new Ace Savy comic!” Lincoln exclaimed.

“And I was just about to paint my nails with my cute new nail polish!” Leni stated.

“And I was in the middle of writing a new poem!” Lucy announced.

“And I was just about to go outside and play some soccer!” Lynn whined.

“Poo poo!” Lily cried with annoyance.

“Ok, I get that you all want to go back to whatever it was that you were doing,” Luna told her siblings. “But this is my one and only voice. So listen close, it’s only for today. And I promise that this won’t take long! Alright, I gathered all of you in here to talk about this!” Luna then revealed the love letter that she got earlier on in the day at school to her siblings.

All of them groaned.

“Ugh, not this again!” Lola groaned.

“Luna, don’t you remember that sending love letters is Mom’s thing for Dad?” Lori asked. “You should probably give that to him so he can see what she wrote for him!”

“No, dudes, this letter is actually for me! I found it in my locker this morning!”

All of Luna’s siblings gasped.

Leni then ran up to Luna and gave her a hug as she squealed, “O. M. Gosh, Luna! Congrats, little sis! This is totes exciting!”

“Thanks, Leni,” Luna chuckled as Leni let go of her.

Leni then gave Luna a nudge. “So are you gonna tell us who it’s from?”

“I-I don’t know...” Luna then unfolded the letter and showed what had been written on it to her siblings. “Whoever wrote it signed it as ‘Your Secret Admirer’. So I need all of your help to figure out who it is.”

Lori then let out a squeal. “Ooh, I bet it’s Sam!”

The rest of the siblings except for Luna then let out a teasing, “Ooo...”

A slight blush came across Luna’s cheek as she nervously rubbed her arm. “I don’t know dudes. I’m really hoping that it’s Sam, but she’s way out of my league.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lincoln asked. “She totally likes you!”

“Well she definitely does as a friend, but I don’t know if it goes any further than that.”

“Well, who else could the letter be from?” Lynn questioned. “She always wants to come over and jam with you like five out of seven times of the week!”

“Yeah, and the way that she always looks so happy whenever she’s commini-gay-ting with you!” Luan teased.

“Luan!” All of the Loud siblings shouted.

“Wow, that joke certainly did not get BI you guys!” 

The 14-year-old comedienne hen broke out into a fit of laughter while all of her siblings groaned and facepalmed themselves.

“But, Luna, despite her terrible jokes, Luan does have a point,” Lori began. “Remember that Luan, Leni, and I all go to the same school as you so we occasionally see you in the hallway with Sam. But we all know how important spending time with her is to you so we always let you two be. But all three of us have seen Sam walking in the hallway with other friends or by herself and she always seems to be the happiest whenever she’s with you.”

“Really?” Luna queried.

“Totes!” Leni agreed. “Her smile is always like ten times bigger whenever she’s with you!”

Luna smiled at the thought of Sam’s gorgeous smile. “Well, I always did think that she was a naturally happy gal. But you guys do have a point that I have no clue how she behaves when I’m not around. But I’m still not too sure if the letter’s from her, dudes.”

“Why? Is there anyone else that we should know about, Luna?” Lola asked, grinning.

“No, as of right now, Sam’s the only one out there that sends a million butterflies into my stomach. While I do have something for Mick Swagger, it’s not the same thing. I really look up to him and I think that his music is rockin’, so he’s just a role model to me. No one else has the same effect on my heart like the way that that Sam chick does. But what if there’s someone else out there who has been crushin’ on me and I just have no clue because we’re either not close or they’re just excellent at hiding it.”

“Well, it seems like you wouldn’t have a clue if anyone had a crush on you since you’re clearly oblivious to the fact that Sam likes you back!”

“Yeah, I do not enjoy feelings such as the ones that you have described and even I can see that Sam is attracted to you,” Lisa agreed.

“Maybe she’s just attracted to me as a friend,” Luna said, clearly in denial.

“Luna, why do you keep on disagreeing with everything that we’re saying?” Lana asked. “Did something that we don’t know about happen between you and Sam?”

“Nothing bad happened. But I did tell her about the letter.”

“And what did she say?” Lincoln asked.

“Well, she didn’t say whether it was her or not. But she did agree that it’s a bummer that the letter is signed anonymously. But this when we were walking to our first period classes and she had to go to chem. But, she did hug me and told me that she was excited for me right before she had to go. It surely did ignite the butterflies in my tum-tum and had me surprised because she ain’t much of a hugger. But then I figured it was because we’re really good friends so she’s just really happy that I got a love letter.”

All of the Loud siblings let out a squeal.

Luna raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Luna’s siblings all giggled at her.

Lori then put a hand on her short-brown-haired sister. “Luna, you have no idea how literally oblivious you can be sometimes. Sam was totally the one who wrote that letter! She’s probably just too nervous to admit that she was the one who wrote the letter, just like how you’re too nervous to admit to her that you’re the one who’s been sending her all of those love letters! Say, didn’t you tell us that you had a similar reaction when she told you about the letters that she got?”

Luna’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red as she let out a chuckle. “Yeah, I did. Man, were the butterflies soarin’ when she mentioned that. I nearly almost lost my cool. But yeah, all I said was that I really hoped that she figured out who sent them to her.”

“Yeah, so she probably likes you back and figured out that you were the one who wrote the love letters, but like you, wasn’t 100 percent sure. She’s probably too nervous to ask you so she’s trying to find out if she’s right by returning the favor. And like I said, like you, she’s too nervous to admit that she was the one who wrote the letter so she’s trying to hint her feelings towards you like doing sweet and romantic things that she normally doesn’t do, like hugging you.”

“Wow, Lori, you sure do have a point there. But still, dudes, what if we’re all wrong? How can I find out that it’s her for sure?”

“Well, my advice from a few months ago still stands accurate,” Lucy answered. “Since Sam, um I mean the writer, is clearly shy, you need to give Sam a signal to let her know that you’re interested. If you receive a second letter soon after, then she’s clearly the author.”

“That’s a great idea, Lucy, but I don’t know if I’m brave enough to do that,” Luna admitted. “I’ll probably just chicken out.”

“That’s it!” Lola yelled as she hopped off Lori’s bed. “I can’t stand to see you act like this!” Lola then grabbed Luna by her shirt and pulled on it, bringing Luna’s face right down to hers. “You need to woman up! You think if Sam can’t admit that she wrote the love letter and if she’s not a touchy person that she wasn’t apprehensive when she hugged you?”

“Well, she didn’t seem like it,” Luna answered.

“Well, she probably was! Same people are just better at hiding things like that than others! But she did it anyway because she’s brave and because she really likes you! That probably took a lot out of her so now you’re going to muster up all of the bravery that you’ve got and return Sam the favor by sending her a darn signal!”

Lola then let go of Luna. Luna gulped as she stood upright again.

“Sam is coming over tomorrow, correct?” Lola asked.

“Yeah, she’s coming over so that we can jam out with my new amp,” Luna replied. “She told me that she would have come over today, but she couldn’t of because she had to go to the Royal Woods Diner after school with her family to celebrate her dad’s birthday.”

“Perfect. You can give her your signal then.”

...

(Part 1) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)

...

Check out “Lincoln’s Concert Catastrophe”!

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)