#feel free to argue against me. always open to being proven wrong or changing my mind for a better idea

[skyborneveggie]

Do you think that the reason Light wrote so many names in the first 5 days is because he thought a shinigami was on its way to "take his soul" for using it? So he had to make fervid use of the little time he thought he had left? And then after Ryuk shows up and assures Light that he's not going to kill him (yet), Light propels forward not only on the euphoria of his power complex, but also the euphoric relief that he didn't die. But it's a double-edged sword, because he thought he was burning his candle at both ends, and now he has to live with his choices. The only option he thinks he has is to relinquish the guilt he's had over the past five days, and fully embrace his new identity.

[manndo]

not today, but someday [oberyn martell x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: oberyn martell x female!reader

warning[s]: 18+ due to heavily implied sexual content (no actually smut), sexual references/situations, mentions of breeding (in reference to conceiving a child), swearing; talks of pregnancy & the inability to conceive; fluff; angst; oberyn being oberyn (is that a warning??); no mention of ellaria; possible inaccuracies about got (see notes)

word count: 5.4k (ummmm, whoops?)

prompt[s]: none.

summary: all you had ever wanted was a little one, a child to call your own. and yet, months later, you were still without child. still barren, and your dream of becoming a mother seemed to be slipping away. 

author’s notes: okay, so, let me start off saying this -- oberyn martell has taken over my life and i have spent much time yearning over him. and, in doing so, i got this idea one day because, as we know, oberyn had eight daughters. so, i thought, what if he had a s/o who could not seem to conceive? hence, this fic. but, i have never watched an episode of got in my life. i have seen his scenes (besides, you know, that scene because in my head, oberyn is alive and well and having all the berries and orgies he wants & i just can’t handle that much violence) and i have read some articles about the show, seen the gifs/posts on tumblr, and talked to people who have watched it in the past eight+ years. but that the extent of my knowledge of got. so, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that this fic holds. and i hope that my characterization of oberyn is good. also, no ellaria -- i just did not feel like she fit in this in anyway possible, and i did not want to force her into the story, so to speak. well, i think that is it! so, on with the show! all mistakes are my own. comments/reblogs/likes are much appreciated. thank you! ❤️

“I am sorry, m’lady.”

You did not know what else you were expecting. You knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. You did not need the maester to tell you that you were still without child — you knew. But, Oberyn had instead you call up on them, and you were too tired to argue. You also hoped you were wrong, and Gods did you want to be wrong. But, you were not.

You plastered on a polite smile for the maester. “It’s quite alright,” you said, your voice tight as you forced your emotions down. You weren’t going to shed any tears in front of the maester; you would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, save for your husband. You nodded your head toward the door. “That’ll be all. Good day.” The maester bowed lowly before turning on their heel and exiting, the large wooden door shutting with a resounding, empty thud. 

The sound echoed in your head and heart; it seeped into your veins, and began to settle in your bones. The sound felt like a finality of sorts. An ending before anything could even begin.

A short, broken sob escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound from breaking free. However, it did not matter — the dam had broken, the heartache released. Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm as you squeezed your eyes closed, and laid down on your bed. Your body curling into itself as tears easily flowed down your cheeks, staining them. You felt as if your body was turning on you, tearing you apart at the seams as you shook violently with your cries.

For eight months now, the two of you had been actively trying for a babe, an heir for Oberyn. Not that he himself required an heir — he had eight beautiful daughters, his Sand Snakes, whom he loved dearly no matter their status. But, when the two of you had been wed over a year ago, there had been an unspoken expectation placed upon you both. Oberyn paid no mind, and told you to do the same, but that was easier said than done.

You had always wanted to be a mother, wanting to have babe upon babe running around, mucking up your home and tugging at your skirts. To watch them grow and prosper, becoming handsome young lads and beautiful young ladies, all whom would be intelligent and strong, but caring and kind. To have your legacy, no matter how small or large it would be, live on thorough them. Perhaps there was a small sense of duty, as a woman, that made you yearn to have children. But, you knew that was not the whole picture. Children were beautiful, wonderful, and loving. They were gifts, and you want to have those gifts, to cherish and love them till you were dead and buried. You wanted it, with all your heart, and yet, it seemed like fate was delivering you a cruel hand.

There had been, one fleeting moment in the very beginning of your wedded bliss, where you were positively sure you were with child. You had been so sure, so eager to see the maester; however, you had quickly been proven wrong by your own body betraying you. You’d spent the day in your chambers, unwilling to leave for any reason. Oberyn had found you curled deep in your silken sheets that evening, and try as he might with his quiet, reassuring words, he was unable to pull you from your depressive state. So, he had held you — silently, but tightly, pressing soft kisses across your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. He let his fingertips brush against your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns across your hips, your stomach, your chest, anywhere he could reach. His touches were light, and his movements were sluggish. He comforted you silently, the best way he knew how, and you allowed him to do so. It hadn’t eased the pain completely, but it had been enough.

But, slowly, the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and nothing changed. It did not matter that the two of you had stopped bringing others into your bed to focus solely on each other, for Oberyn to focus solely on you. Nor, did it matter how many times he filled you with his seed, or how willing and open you were to taking what he offered. It did not matter day, afternoon, or night. Nothing mattered. Because here you were, still without child. Barren.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as the tears flowed and the sobs continued to wrack your body as you laid curled in your marriage bed. Your hand maiden had knocked on the door at one point, but you had been quick to dismiss her before she could enter and find you in your current state. She had not come back and you were grateful. 

But then, finally, everything came to a standstill; the tears you had been crying seemed to dry up, and your body had stopped trembling. You took a deep, shuddering breath and unfurled yourself, allowing your limbs to stretch out across the sheets. The tears were still clinging to the corners of your eyes, but most of them had already dried and stained your cheeks and neck. You pushed yourself to sit on the side of your bed, and roughly wiped away at your face, brushing away the outward sings of your heartache. You silently wished you could easily wipe away the heartache in your chest, too. The one that had buried itself so deeply in there. 

You hadn’t even noticed the door to your chambers opening, didn’t even hear a voice calling out to you. It was only when the door shut — that hollow, empty thud — that you were brought back, your head whipping toward the sound. “Oberyn,” you said, your voice soft, a breathless whisper. He wasn’t supposed to be here; from what you recalled, he was supposed to be kept busy with mundane princely duties (his words, not yours). You weren’t supposed to see him till this evening — and from the way the sun was peeking through the curtains, it could only be mid afternoon — which would have given you plenty of time to steel yourself. To gather yourself together, lock your heartache and pain away before delivering the news. To pretend that it didn’t cut into your soul, didn’t rip you apart from the inside out. “What are you—”

“I had a free moment,” he said, making his way toward you, his golden robes flowing effortless around him. There was a smile playing at his lips, which told you that he actually did not have a moment — he made a moment to come and see you. 

You felt the heartache clawing at your throat, fighting to be released.

Quickly, you pushed yourself to stand, and turned away from him in a futile attempt to hide your face. He would come closer; he would see your pain, your sorrow. Because, though you had wiped away the tears and the stains they had left behind on your cheeks, your eyes were still red and puffy. The pain and heartache still lingering behind your eyes.

God, you had hoped to have more time, more time before you had to tell him. Before you had to watch the sadness and disappointment appear, filling his rich, beautiful brown eyes. You wanted more time. 

A pragmatic pause. “Love,” he said, his voice sounding strained, painful. Your actions had spoken louder than words, it seemed.

You could feel a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, your hand grasping at the dress clinging loosely to your side. You fisted the fabric tightly and closed your eyes, willing yours tears to stay put, to not fall. You heard Oberyn call out for you again, this time your birth name falling from his lips just before you felt him come closer. He hadn’t touched you, not yet, but you could feel his presence only mere inches behind you. 

“Love,” Oberyn whispered once more, this time as you felt his hand wrap gently around the fist at your side, the other coming to wrap around your waist. “I am—”

“Don’t,” you breathed out, the word sounding more like a broken sob than anything coherent. You broke away from Oberyn, and thankfully, he let you go. “I cannot bare another I am sorry, especially from you, husband,” you said, your voice harsher than you had intended, angrier. Not at him, no, you could never be angry with Oberyn. No, you were angry at yourself. This was your fault; you were defective, broken, unable to provide him and yourself with the one thing you had so desperately wished for. “I have heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime.”

You felt his fingertips brush gently against your arm, the lightest of touches, barely there. A soft gesture to tell you he was there, and that he would not leave. You took a shaky breath, and loosened the grip on the fabric in your hand, letting the dress fall back against you. “There is no rush, my love,” he said, his voice soft and tentative, as if he knew he was treading rough water. And, he was.

A choked chuckle escaped your lips, and you turned to face your husband. “For you, perhaps,” you said, letting your eyes take in his appearance. He looked as handsome as ever, but he was growing older, as was the consequences of living. Over time, more grey had appeared in his hair and his beard, and a few more lines and wrinkles adorned his regal face. Even his stomach had gone a little soft (not enough for anyone besides you to notice). But, he was still the man you had met many moons ago. Still the Red Viper. Sill the man could make any woman or man fall to their knees and beg for his cock. “You, my stallion, can breed until you’re dead. The same cannot be said for myself.”

“I do not think I would call myself a stallion, my dove. Not anymore.”

You snorted, and turned away from him, letting your eyes look down at your marriage bed. You ran a hand across the silk sheets. “With the way we’ve been fucking these past few months, I’d disagree.”

You heard an amused chuckle escape his lips. “I may be able to still mount you like a stallion, but perhaps, I can no longer bred you like one.”

You looked over your shoulder at Oberyn, and raised your eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the father of eight daughters doubts his ability to breed?”

His shoulders gave a small shrug before he reached out to you, wrapping his callused hand around your wrist. Oberyn brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your pulse point. “I am not in my prime anymore, my dove. Perhaps, the fault does not lie on you.”

You looked away from him and back toward your marriage bed. You felt him take a step closer before you felt the press of his lips against your shoulder in the briefest of kisses. The hand holding your wrist slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’re taking pity on me, husband,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder before his chin came to rest there, his beard tickling your skin ever so slightly. “I am merely stating a possibility,” he mumbled, the hand holding yours moving, arm shifting to wrap around your waist, hands still tangled with one another. “A truth, perhaps.”

You scoffed. “You cannot be serious, my prince.”

Oberyn hummed, and placed a soft kiss on your neck. “I am,” he mumbled into your skin. “I could deny reality, if I wished, but denying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

“So,” you swallowed and looked down at your tangled hands that were resting on your stomach. You took a deep breath. “You do not think of me as a failure?”

Before you could blink, Oberyn had spun you around to face him. His rich, dark eyes were narrowed, but there was no anger behind his eyes. “You are not a failure, my love,” he said, his voice filled conviction. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Please, do not think of yourself as one.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “There are not many things women are afforded in this life, Oberyn. Many of us are not giving the promise of kingdoms, riches or lands when we are but babes,” you stated, your voice hard, irritation lacing your words. “But this, the gift to bare children, we are born with that. That is ours,” you said, your voice softening as your throat tightened and tears welled at the corner of your eyes. You closed your eyes, and feel another swipe of his callused thumb across your cheek. “I know I am worth more than my anatomy. I know that my anatomy does not define me. That this, this failure,” you said, your voice catching in your throat, “this inability to conceive, does not define me.” You swallowed, and opened your eyes, looking into Oberyn’s deep, chocolate orbs. “I know these things, Oberyn. I know them. But, it cuts me deeply, so deeply that I feel as if I am bleeding out with no way to close the wound.”

“My dove,” he said softly, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek. He held your face gently between his hands, his features soften, and you could see a pain in his decadent eyes. A pain that was reflected in your own. “Your pain is my pain, know that. And know, there is nothing I would not give up in this world in order to give you the gift of a child,” he said, and you could tell that he meant what he said. He wanted this as much as you did, you both wished for this, silently prayed for this. And yet, barren. 

You watched as he removed one of his hands from your cheek, sliding it down your neck, shoulder, down the middle of your chest, between your breasts and coming to rest on your stomach. Oberyn looked down at his hand, as did you, and spread his fingers across your stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to see you swell with our babe,” he said, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. You placed your hand over his on your stomach, fingers resting between his. “To see them suckle at your breast, to tug at your skirts, to wreak havoc in the halls.” He gazed back to you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat, a fresh set of tears prickling at the back of your eyes. “The sound of their cries and laughter filling the rooms. To see them as they grow and blossom.” He paused, and you could see he was choosing his words carefully. You felt a knot grow in your stomach. “But, I am starting to think—”

“Please, Oberyn,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his. “Do not say—”

“We need to take a step back, my love.”

Your eyes snapped opened. That was not exactly what you expected. You had expected him to say that you two should give up, forget the notion of ever having your own babe. Perhaps, he would even suggest an orphan child; you were not opposed to the idea, you loved children and would gladly be a mother to a child in need of one. But, you were not ready to give up the idea of having your own yet. 

“A step back?” you asked, your eyes filled with confusion as you released your grasp on his hand. You were not entirely sure where your husband was going with this statement. You could not imagine that he was implying to stop fucking. Though Oberyn had aged, he still enjoyed the pleasures of sex (as did you) and the idea that he would give that up? Preposterous. “Are you suggesting we stop fucking, dear husband?”

Oberyn looked aghast at your suggestion, and it made the corner of your mouth tick up. “What a ridiculous notion, dear wife,” he said, mimicking your words back to you, his voice sounding almost betrayed that you would think such a thing. Even suggest such a thing. “Besides,” he started, voice dropping an octave in tone and pitch as he moved both hands, the one on your stomach and the one on your cheek, to come and rest on your hips once more. Oberyn’s callused fingers dipped into your hipbone and held tightly, almost too tightly. It barely phased you. “The idea that I could keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself around you is absurd,” he muttered, a wicked grin spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing with lust. It lasted only a moment before the smirk fell, and a serious look appeared upon his face. “However, if you wish to cease—”

You shook your head. “No, no,” you muttered. “I could not do that to you.”

“My love—”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by ceasing our activities with others.”

“Which,” he started softly, “I had no issue forgoing for you, my dove.” He paused and removed on have from your hip. He placed a finger under your chin and pushed up, lifting your head to make sure that your eyes caught his rich, dark orbs. “You have my body, my heart, and my soul. I love you. Whatever you need, I will comply.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. Oberyn partook in every pleasure imaginable, had never denied himself and tried almost every sexual act under the sun. And yet, here he was, willing to forgo sex for you. You knew he loved you, but this? This proved how far he would go for you, the lengths he would go to make sure you were well, that you were content. Whatever you needed, it seemed, he would gladly give it to you. 

“No, Oberyn,” you started and he opened his mouth once more, but you stopped him as you placed a hand on his cheek. “I am — I have no problem continuing our sexual activities.”  

You watched as Oberyn studied you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be hiding the truth from him. After a moment, he seemed content with what he found. He nodded and removed his finger from your chin. “Then, that is settled. But, I think, my dove we may have put too much pressure on ourselves,” he murmured, turning his head into your palm, and pressing a soft kiss to the center of it. “Not that our lovemaking is not pleasurable, it most certainly is, always,” Oberyn said, turning his gaze back to you, slipping on another mischievous smirk his let his free hand come to rest just below your breast. “But, perhaps, we’ve forgotten what it is like to be us,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck as you let your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. “Without pressures.” Another kiss, lips moving down. “Without worries.” And, another, lower. “Only us.” His final kiss landed on your shoulder. “Return to an earlier time, when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Do you remember those days, my love?”

You nodded. You remembered those days vividly; the hours spent walking through the water gardens, talking about everything and nothing. The nights spent together, tangled in each other, exploring each other with hands, lips and teeth. Back then, all you had wanted to do was learn about the man you shared your bed — and soon, your life — with, and he had wanted the same. Oberyn still attended to his duties, as required, but every moment when he was not busy, he was with you and you were with him. 

Then, when you had married, more of your time had become consumed with your own requirements and duties as well as his own. Much of your time together was spent was in the evenings, in your bed in hopes of conceiving a child. 

“Perhaps, my love,” Oberyn started again, “we need to allow ourselves to enjoy each others company, get lost in each other.” A brief pause. “In and out of our bed.” You caught Oberyn’s dark orbs, and him yours. The hand on your ribs was removed, and placed instead upon your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “What do you say, my dove? We do not forgo our dream of one day having a babe of our own. We just,” he paused, for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye, “allow ourselves not to be pressured or burdened by the notion? Return to simpler times, so to speak?” 

You let your husband’s suggestion mull in your head for a moment. Perhaps, he was right; perhaps the two of you had been too focused on conceiving a child that you had, unintentionally, made sex a burden. Oberyn was not wrong; your times with him were always pleasurable and the two of you never fucked if either of you was in no mood to engage in sex. But when you did, perhaps, the burden was there, always lingering in the back of your mind. That the burden had become an unknown weight upon you, upon Oberyn. It would be nice to silence that burden for a while. 

“My love?”

You blinked and focused your gaze back on Oberyn. His deep brown eyes were studying you, patiently waiting for your response. You smiled softly at him. “You are right, my prince,” you agreed, and you watched as a triumphant look filled his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up. You narrowed your gaze slightly. “Watch that ego of yours, husband.” Oberyn chuckled lowly and moved to grasp your hips. He pulled you tight against him, a wicked smile on his face.

“Or what, dove? Hm?”

“Or,” you started, lifting arms and wrapping the loosing around his neck and shoulders, “it will get you killed one day.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Will it now? By whom?”

You held your chin up. “Me.” Oberyn laughed, the sound filling your shared chambers, and now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You doubt me, my prince?”

“I do not doubt, your strength, my love,” he said through the laughter, which slowly began to die down as the milliseconds passed. “Or your cunning wit. However, I do know that you love me too much to even harm a hair on my head.” He paused and titled his head. “Well, unless in the throes of passion, of course,” he added, another mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “Then well?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It cannot be helped.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but you knew the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. “Whatever you say, my prince,” you muttered.

Oberyn hummed thoughtfully. You had thought to say something else, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Oberyn’s lips were on yours, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. And, you willing granted him entry. His tongue slid harshly against yours, warm, wet and unyielding. A small moan escaped your lips as your arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling into the curls at the nap of his neck. You used your hold to pull yourself even closer to him, pressing your chest against his as you slipped your thigh between his legs, pressing it against his swelling cock. A low growl escaped his throat, one that was eagerly swallowed by your lips as his grip on your hips tightened.

There was a loud knock at your chamber door.

Oberyn barely pulled away, mumbling, “ignore it,” against your lips before sliding his lips against yours again. And, you had planned to, already lost in the taste of him. However, the moment his tongue had slipped back in to your moth, there was another knock. This time, much louder.

“M’lord?” It was one of the man servants. “Are you in there?”

Oberyn groaned and pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. “Yes,” he responded, his voice stern, but somewhat out of breath. You smiled. “But.” One of his hands travelled from you hip, up to your side, coming to rest on your breast. He kneaded the flesh, and you let out a soft mewl, heading falling back, eyes closing. “I am very, very busy. So, if you’ll ex—”

“Your presence is requested, m’lord.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “By whom?” he asked, but he did not bother to move toward the door to let the servant in, only lowered his head to your neck. He gave the skin at the base of your neck a quick, hard nip. You let out a small yelp of surprise mixed with pleasure as you tugged on Oberyn’s dark locks once more.

You were sure the man servant now knew exactly why Oberyn was busy — or, more accurately, whom he was busy with.

“Your brother, m’lord,” he answered, his voice tight and proper.

Oberyn growled against your skin in irritation before he nipped the skin again, this time worrying the skin for a brief moment. “Oberyn,” you whined, the sound a little louder than a whisper. Another nip in the same area. You were sure you’d have a bruise within the hour. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes. “Oberyn,” you said again, trying to quell the ever growing arousal pooling between your legs. However, his name sounded too breathless and needy on your lips. You glanced down at him the best you could, and saw his dark orbs shining with lust. Oberyn gave a sly smirk.

“M’lord?”

You knew he didn’t want to go, that he would rather lose himself in your body and pleasure. However, you knew that if he did not go now, it would only mean more time away from each other later.

“M’lord? He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. If you could please open this door, and—”

“Go,” you whispered, ignoring the man servant’s plea, scratching at the back of Oberyn’s neck and giving him a soft smile. “The sooner you meet with him, the sooner you are back in our bed.”

Oberyn raised his head, his eyes watching you closely. The hand resting on your breast slide up and over your shoulder. His callused fingers began to play with the strap on your gown. “And you will be waiting for me?”

“Of course,” you answered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Unless, you’d like to visit the brothel tonight?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, my prince, and that is my fault. I know I asked you, and you willingly followed my request. But, I do not wish to hold you back anymore. If you would like to share a bed again, I am more than willing to share tonight.”

Oberyn leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, but before it could go farther, he was pulling away. He grinned down at you. “Perhaps another night, my dove. Tonight, I plan to keep you.” The hand on your hip slide off and over, his hand cupping your clothed and aching center. A small whimper escaped your lips, and Oberyn’s own lips twisted into a wicked smile. “And, this pretty cunt all to myself tonight.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell, making you shiver. “Make you come undone upon my tongue for hours,” he whispered, the word sending a fresh flood of arousal between your legs.

“Oberyn—” your voice sounded choked, hoarse, needy.

“Before I finally sink into that tight little cunt.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth, and worried the skin. You groaned, eyes falling closed as you grasped at his upper arm for support. His teeth released your lobe. “And fuck you until the sun rises.”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Oberyn pulled back, hand sliding from your aching center to your hip, and looked at you, that wicked grin still pulling at his lips. “Perhaps—”

“M’lord?” The man servant sounded terse, clearly annoyed that he was still standing outside the door. You glanced at Oberyn to see him roll his eyes, irritation clearly written on his face. “I am sorry, but, I believe—”

“Tell him I will be there in a moment,” Oberyn all but growled through the door at the man servant. You gently swatted at his chest, and gave him a look that silently told him to be nice. Oberyn sighed. “If you would be so kind,” he added, his voice much less demanding as he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

“Um, I would,” the man started, “but he — he requested that I personally accompany you, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes once more. “Of course he did,” he muttered.

You bite your lip once more, this time trying to stifle a giggle that threatened to erupt. However, it escaped — a meager sound, but a giggle nonetheless. “He knows you all too well, my prince.”

“That he does,” he muttered, and let out another heavy sigh before turning his head and attention back on you. “You’ll be fine, my dove?”

And, you knew what he was asking. He was not just asking if you would be fine while he was away, or if you would be fine for the rest of the day. No, he was asking that and more, much more. Oberyn was asking if you’d be fine from here on out with what you two had agreed upon. Would you really and truly be fine with forgoing your want for a babe? Forgoing the need you had created to conceive a child for the foreseeable future. Were you, for now, fine with only having him in your life? No children, only him, only your prince. Only your husband. Only Oberyn. 

You smiled sweetly, and reached out, placing a hand upon his cheek. “Yes, my love. As long as you promise to stay by my side until one of us takes our dying breath.”

Oberyn smiled, his dark orbs shining brightly with love and adoration for you. He reached out and covered your hand on his cheek with his, squeezing your fingers gently. “Promise.”

You nodded. “Now,” you started, letting your hand slide from his cheek, his fingers still grasping at yours, “go on. Before your brother comes and hunts you down himself.”

Oberyn scoffed, and looked toward the door. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered, and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Go,” you said, voice a little stern as you gently pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to move him toward the door.

Oberyn laughed softly and untangled his fingers from yours. “Fine, my dove, I am going,” he muttered, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “I will see you in a few hours.” Oberyn took a step back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. He grinned and took another step back. “Make sure you’re ready for me.”

You smirked. “Do not worry about me, my prince. I will be,” you said and he grinned, all teeth and wicked before turning on his heel, and leaving your shared chambers.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, but this time, it did not cause you heartache. There was no finality or dread that sank into your bones. It was just the sound of a door opening and closing, as they always do.

Perhaps, you had closed the door on your dreams of having little ones. But, it wasn’t locked; you could open that door once more, when the time was right. Or, perhaps, you’d find another door, another way. However, right now, you would enjoy the idea of a closed door.

taglist (for pedro characters):

@over300books​

[anxiouspotatorants]

Alright for those who have seen my Mal character analysis post here is part 2. For more context see the intro (and if you, want the whole thing) of said last post. But once again some disclaimers first: I haven’t read the original trilogy and use this to my advantage when analysing Alina based on her show-character alone. I do ship Malina (at least at the writing of this post), so that might influence my interpretation. This is just my opinion, so feel free to disagree. And spoilers for all of season 1 of Shadow and Bone.

Part 2: Alina

Now what I have seen so far when it comes to critiquing Alina, is that her character relies too much on Mal. She mentions him constantly while at the Little Palace, and once reunited with him practically attaches her own hip to his. Some argue that her growth was stunted by their reunion, and that we don’t get to see enough of who she is apart from Mal. And uh, yeah I disagree. It’s not that I find this argument inconceivable, just that after seeing the season twice I don’t really think that opinion holds water. Who is Alina? That is quite literally the mission statement of the season. Alina goes from an outcast cartographer with a small but somewhat reliable group of friends to finding out she’s not only grisha but a special kind of grisha. And from then on she basically has multiple identity crises only to end the season mentally preparing for a new roller coaster of identities. So let me try to map it out.

The power-reveal might happen in episode 1, but we actually find out a lot about who Alina is and was pre-reveal. She’s an orphan and social outcast due to her mixed race status (being half Shu in Ravka is not exactly easy). She’s had one friend throughout her childhood, Mal, and managed to find comradery in her cartographer team. From a young age she has had a talent for drawing, and Ana Kuya encouraged young Alina to direct this skill towards cartography, as this would provide her one of the safer roles in the army, which Alina was doomed to join from the start. As a child she was not popular, but her friendship with Mal shows a girl who was brave, loyal and determined. She was willing to up the stakes to protect her loved one (see: bully scene). As a young woman she still seems to keep that fighting spirit, but has also grown a larger sense of humour. She jokes around with Mal and their friends, but she’s also clearly insecure — repeating her question about Mal’s stories and her decision to hide her jealousy over Zoya suggest as much.

Post-reveal, Alina has to deal with a lot of different people saying a lot of different things about who she is. The grisha soldiers view her as a form of redemption for their people. Her former superiors and First Army soldiers view her as grisha-business. Mal, although Alina never finds out, tries to double down on his pre-established view of Alina until he sees the test. The king makes it clear to Alina that he sees her as a tool to reunite the two Ravkas. And the Darkling tries to create an entirely new narrative for Alina: she’s his other half, his one equal in the world, the one he has been waiting for that will right his his ancestor’s wrongs. Then there’s the Apparat who introduces her to the religious aspect of her powers, and Baghra who first treats her as unworthy of her powers and then as an unready foil to the Darkling. Alina has to navigate a lot of roles at the same time: saint, freak, saviour, tool, rival, enemy, heroine, lover, royal subject, the list goes on. It is through the combined impressions of Baghra and Mal that Alina starts to find herself again. Baghra consistently tries to get Alina to become her own person in harmony with her powers («who are you holding back for?»), but Alina initially twists this pep-talk into shifting her focus from Mal to the Darkling. Once Baghra reveals the Darkling’s true identity and motivations, Alina finally has to make the choice to go out on her own without allies. She outmanouvers the crows and gets in altercations with soldiers before running into the woods and into Mal. Mal’s presence reminds her of who Alina is at her core: an underdog with a lionheart. And the thing is, once reunited with Mal, Alina genuinely starts to change. She isn’t just returning to banter or insecurities or relying on support. She confronts Mal on his assumed silence and pre-established view of grisha. And she doesn’t give up on her new goal and run away with him — she insists on finding the stag, defeating the Darkling and destroying the Fold. She has found her goal and is following it free from the expected roles that have been thrust on her. At the end of the season, Alina might be back to her and Mal against the world, but she is a different woman. She is more confident and more goal-oriented. She has directed her stubborness towards a specific mission, and is preparing to have to battle all the roles that will be thrust upon her in future seasons (see: Zoya’s speech about Alina becoming a martyr before she becomes a saint). Who is Alina? She’s a fighter facing her new bully head on.

But there are two other elements I find important to rant about when it comes to Alina’s season 1 journey. The first is her connection to Mal. The two have been tight since they found each other as children in the orphanage. Alina suppressed her powers unknowingly for years and sabotaged her grisha test out of fear that a positive result would separate her and Mal. She makes it clear in later episodes that this fear of separation is what motivated her actions. But I don’t think it was about just Mal. I think Alina is terrified of being alone. And once Alina is brought to the Little Palace, she has no one. Not Mal, who was denied even a quick goodbye and whos letters are kept away from Alina. Not her cartographer friends, who all died either in the Fold or, in Alexei’s case, alone in a cellar at the hands of Kerch mobsters. She once again faces alienation, not just about her race but her commoner-soldier status, and quickly attaches herself to Genya, who is one of the few to show her kindness. Once she has been made to believe that Mal doesn’t care about her she also gets closer to the Darkling and recenters her world from around one man to the other. She feels pressure to perform as is expected of her to gain acceptance from what she now has to assume is her new home. Alina attaches herself to whoever seems decent enough because it is safer than being alone, especially in a world like the one she lives in. When it is then revealed that the Darkling has manipulated her the whole time, Alina starts to question everything again and journeys out on her own for possibly the first time. It is Mal who tracks her down and helps her out of a predicament, thus providing safe harbour for Alina again. Alina doesn’t just run back to him and regress as a character. As written above, her journey to episode 6 has impacted her to the point where her and Mal’s relationship changes too. The casually joking tone they used to have is much more subdued, and the two have to confront and open up to each other about revelations and feelings. They apologize to each other and show compassion. This isn’t a giant leap from their relationship pre-power reveal, but it still stands in contrast to their tense silences and evasions in episode 1. To put it this way: they bullshit each other a lot less now. And what is important to note is that Alina reunites with Mal for a reason. As implied by the last paragraph, a lot of people have a lot of expectations for Alina. Mal is (as many have pointed out before me) the one person who always sees her as a person instead of a concept. Where others see a saint or a weapon, he sees his friend. Where others see a threat or an unworthy vessel, he sees a girl who stands up to bullies and protects her loved ones. Alina and Mal bring out each others’ humanity, and that is a crucial thing to have in a world that sees them as inhuman: whether as prophetic legends on pedestals or anonymous cannon fodder.

The other point I want to bring up is that I think Alina has a second mission in season 1: navigating who to trust. We know that in the beginning the ones she trusts are Mal and the cartographers. Once in the Little Palace, she starts out by putting knives under pillows and only revealing emotional vulnerability in private. But she quickly starts to place her trust in others. She considers Genya a friend, the Darkling an ally who could be something more, and Marie, Nadia, Ivan and Fedyor as companions. She even becomes receptive to the Apparat from his lesson about Morozova. On the flip side she has an understandable feud with Zoya, and an equally understandable hot-and-cold relationship to Baghra. By the end of the season, Marie is dead and Nadia and Fedyor are nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile the Darkling is revealed as the true villain with Ivan as his underling and Genya his spy. Even The Apparat is implied to become a future enemy. Baghra and Zoya, on the other hand, have proven themselves to be more helpful to Alina — Baghra by exposing the Darkling, and Zoya by turning against him and helping Alina in the final Fold battle. And those Kerch crows who attempted to kidnap her ended up playing just as important a role in her rescue and in letting her go to continue her journey freely. Alina has spent the season learning that people really are not what they seem. Those who call themselves friends of you could be locking you in a cage, and those who wished you harm could turn out to have morals and redeem themselves. And Mal has an entire trust-arc for Alina of his own: he goes from her one friend to someone she thinks has left her behind, only to return and prove his loyalty and how worthy he is of her trust. I think this theme is something that will follow Alina in the next season, especially since she and Mal will be more vulnerable than before. She’ll need to learn when to keep her guard up and who is worthy of her softness.

So yeah, if I haven’t made myself clear enough I think Alina has a massive arc this season and that Mal doesn’t hinder this arc but rather is a reflection of it. Mal doesn’t regress her character, but rather reminds her who she is in opposition to who she is expected and told to be. And being a protagonist who interacts with a lot of characters, she is set up to have just as much of a journey (if not a bigger one) in future seasons. Is Mal going to be part of that? Probably. But he will continue to function as someone holding a mirror up to Alina reminding her of who she is. And Alina will continue to grow and deal with conflict as any protagonist should.

[sorcererinthestars]

hey, i just wanted to let you know that i’ve been a follower of yours for a while, and i always look forward to seeing your posts/opinions/input on everything. i hope you’re doing okay. this is a lost to handle for everyone involved. feel free to shoot me a message if you ever need to talk -@achieveandhunt

Thank you. It’s been hard. Lots of tears, anxiety, breakdowns. I’ve deleted twitter from my phone. For the first time in the like ... eight years I’ve had tumblr, this community seems arguably to be the most levelheaded one.

I have no statement to make that changes my original post. I’m shocked, hurt, confused. But there are so many changing storylines, information that doesn’t line up, etc. I refuse to comment on the validity of anything until Ryan (and the legal team he hired) has an opportunity to say something.

I will say it has been proven minors were not involved, so leave my blog if you accuse Ryan of being a ped*phile. Yes. He may have cheated on his wife and that’s nasty and wrong, but as of what I know (and I don’t want to turn this into a dialogue, I’ve SHUT DOWN EVERYTHING until a statement is made, I don’t want to know) nothing he’s done is illegal. That being said, it is icky at best.

This whole thing sickens me to my core becuase even if Ryan is cheating, so long as it is with a consenting adult, it’s none of our business. News flash! Taking and sending nudes is in no way against the law. The thing that gets messy is if the stuff with fans gets proven to be true. That’s a gross abuse of power that needs to be talked about in the whole community (because it doesn’t come from nowhere, i.e. the blatant sexualization of the cast).

However, the witch-hunt mentality is vicious and the community got involved in such a toxic manner. And for those doxxing him??? He has two young children under the age of ten, you douchebags!

Thank you, anon. I don’t really have anything else to say and I don’t want to argue with people about my stance on the whole thing. I don’t have any idea what my opinion of Ryan is going to be after all of this. It depends on what’s true.

However: if you or anyone else is hurting and confused and want a safe place to share your thoughts, my dms are open. Just know I have my opinions and I’m not looking to have a debate.

I appreciate you reaching out. I’ll cherish anons like these, but I’m not going to be getting into any more discussions until Ryan/RT makes an official statement we can work from.

[ibijau]

jc/nhs/lxc get drunk, talk about stuff, and cuddle

finally kicked my ass into finishing this, because today sucks and I needed a little softness. Also available on AO3.

Jiang Cheng looked down at the jars of wine with obvious contempt, but Nie Huaisang did not take it personally. He’d never known the man to look at anything with any expression other than contempt. It was just the way his face was.

“It’s stupid and it’s not going to work,” Jiang Cheng snapped, though he still followed him on the path to the Hanshi. “Everyone knows he doesn’t drink.”

“It’s Emperor’s Smile, it hardly counts as drinking,” Nie Huaisang chirped. “Your brother drinks that stuff as if it were tea, it can’t be very strong.”

“Not my brother. And the alcohol isn’t the only problem. Zewu-Jun won’t see anyone.”

“Good that I’m not just anyone then. He’ll open the door for me.”

Jiang Cheng looked unconvinced but didn’t bother arguing. He probably thought that Nie Huaisang would soon be proven wrong and that he’d get to gloat in front of the Hanshi’s closed door. It wasn’t entirely impossible that it would happen that way. Nie Huaisang was convinced that if Lan Xichen were to open the door to anyone it would be him, but he had no way to be sure. Not unless he tried.

For all of his bravado, Nie Huaisang still hesitated at the door of the Hanshi. He was still almost sure that Lan Xichen would accept to see him, but the rest of his plan was…

His eyes darted toward Jiang Cheng, with his arms crossed on his chest, looking ready to gloat when this didn’t work and yet with something like eagerness on his face. This was why they were here, although Jiang Cheng hadn’t been informed of it of course. Nie Huaisang was the only person who could get that door to open but he wasn’t the one with the power to draw Lan Xichen back into the world. It had stung to come to that conclusion but… Nie Huaisang was nothing if not used to disappointment.

Beside it would be nice, he’d decided, to use his powers of scheming and make something good happen this time, so that helped with the bitterness that still choked him at the thought of what he was aiming for.

Nie Huaisang knocked on the door.

“Xichen-gege? It’s Huaisang.”

There was only silence in answer to this call. Already Jiang Cheng was smirking in triumph, looking ready to gloat that of course, everything would be exactly as awful as he had expected. Before he could say anything, Nie Huaisang knocked again, a little louder this time.

“Come on, Xichen-gege. Let’s talk? I think we have a lot to chat about.”

Silence again, and Nie Huaisang sighed. Perhaps he had underestimated Lan Xichen’s resentment and overestimated his need for closure. He glanced at Jiang Cheng who shrugged, obviously trying to hide his disappointment. It would have been rude to insist, so without a word they both turned around, ready to return to the rooms that had been prepared for them.

They had only taken a few steps when they heard the slide of wood against wood behind them. Both of them turned in unison to find Lan Xichen at the door.

A pang of guilt shook Nie Huaisang like lightning. It had only been a few months since he had last seen Lan Xichen, but time had not been kind on the other man. He looked too thin, his skin too pale, his beautiful long hair was dirty and a mess of knots. His eyes were fixed on Jiang Cheng, whose presence must have been a shock.

Nie Huaisang had always been good at surprising others, and at taking advantage of it. He rushed to the door, grabbed Lan Xichen’s arm, and pulled him inside with the sweetest smile he could manage at such a time.

“Xichen-gege, I’m so relieved to see you again. You don’t mind that I brought Sandu Shengshou, do you?”

“I…”

“Only, I couldn’t leave him alone with your brother and Wei Wuxian,” Nie Huaisang laughed, motionning for Jiang Cheng to follow them inside. “Do you know how insufferable they are? Jiang Cheng, tell them how awful they are.”

“Very,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, hovering on the doorstep. “Sect Leader Lan, if it’s not a good time for you, we’ll go.”

Lan Xichen stared at him like a startled rabbit, which Nie Huaisang would have found immensely amusing if it hadn't been so worrying. Lan Xichen was not a man to easily let his emotions overcome him. Nie Huaisang gently squeezed his arm, bringing the older man’s attention to himself.

“Zewu-Jun, you’ve been alone a long while now. We were both worried for you, so we thought it would be nice to pay you a visit.” Nie Huaisang raised the two jars of wine he had brought, and gave a crooked smile. “See? I even brought something to drink. But as Sandu Shengshou said, if you’d rather be left alone, we’ll comply.”

The way Lan Xichen looked down at him hurt. It also hurt when Lan Xichen finally realised that Nie Huaisang had been holding his arm that entire time and pulled himself free with a sharp gesture.

“What are you planning now, Huaisang?” He asked in a too soft voice.

“You can’t stay alone forever,” Nie Huaisang replied, as sincere as he was still capable of being. “We’re not those you lost but… we’re your friends too, aren’t we?”

It was a bold claim to make after everything that had happened. Indeed, Lan Xichen tensed and frowned, pinching his lips slightly as if to stop himself from denying the claim. If it had been only the two of them, Nie Huaisang could easily imagine being sent away at that moment. But that was why Jiang Cheng had to be there as well. He was probably the last person left whose relationship to Lan Xichen had not yet been tainted and corrupted by resentment.

Lan Xichen must have come to the same conclusion. His eyes turn to Jiang Cheng, and he manages something that could pass for a smile.

“Do come in, Sect Leader Jiang,” he says, still too softly. “The two of you are here already, there is little point in sending you away.”

At last, Jiang Cheng stepped inside, far too cautiously, as if he expected Lan Xichen to change his mind at any moment. At the same time, Lan Xichen still looked like a frightened rabbit torn between staying still and dashing away. 

Nie Huaisang ignored both of them. He dropped the jars of wine on the table, then went looking for something to drink from. It had been a while, but he still remembered where everything was in the Hanshi, and had no trouble finding three bowls for them to use. With a boldness and confidence he did not quite feel, Nie Huaisang sat at the table and started pouring wine for all of them. 

"Let's drink!" he said, gesturing for the other two to sit with him, as if he were the host. 

Out of respect, Jiang Cheng allowed Lan Xichen to chose his seat first. There was some hesitation there, but in the end Lan Xichen sat opposite Nie Huaisang. It would force him to see the other man, yes, but that was also the spot that allowed the most distance between them. Jiang Cheng sat at one of the other sides left, awkwardly looking like a buffer between them but also, and most importantly, closer to Lan Xichen than Nie Huaisang was. 

"I'm not sure I should," Lan Xichen noted, looking at the wine as if it were poison. "What is the occasion?" 

The end of his seclusion hopefully, although of course Nie Huaisang could not say that. 

"Do we really need a reason to have a little fun?" he chuckled instead. "Zewu-Jun, everything has been so complicated lately, don't we deserve to just relax?" 

It was a flimsy argument at best, and it said a lot about Lan Xichen's state that he simply rolled with it and carefully sipped some of the wine. Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng drank as well. Emperor's Smile was worthy of its reputation, although Nie Huaisang usually preferred fruitier drinks for his part. 

"So, how was the conference?" Lan Xichen asked, as polite a host as ever. If not for the way he looked, Nie Huaisang would have felt transported back to simpler days. 

And so, they chatted a little about news from the cultivation world. Lan Xichen appeared sincerely interested by every piece of news they had to share, making it clear he had truly been isolated these last few months. With his easy, open personality and friendly nature, it could only have made worse an already fragile state. 

Indeed, the longer they talked, the more animated Lan Xichen became. He mostly listened at first, but before long he was giving his opinion on certain matters, or smiling as the other two complained about their problems, which were many. Without a Chief Cultivator to play the judge, it had often become quite difficult to settle certain disputes. 

“I trusted him, you know,” Jiang Cheng suddenly complained.

“Wei Wuxian?” Nie Huaisang asked, since this wasn’t his first time drinking with the other sect leader and he had noticed a pattern. This was Jiang Cheng's second cup, and a certain topic was usually unavoidable. 

“Jin Guangyao,” came the correction, and instantly something changed in the air.

Nie Huaisang shot a glance at Lan Xichen who stared at Jiang Cheng as if he were some dangerous and particularly venomous snake. Jiang Cheng did not appear to notice, looking down at his empty bowl.

“Weird little fellow at first,” he grumbled, “but… nice. And then after Nightless City, he was always so good to A-Ling, made sure he had a good wet-nurse, that he was well taken care of… let me visit whenever I liked even when his father looked like he didn’t want me around. Seemed just happy that A-Ling had some family left, and I was happy too. I was impressed by the way he could handle everything, his sect and this baby that wasn’t his, and then his own marriage… even after he had his own son, he was still so good to A-Ling. Guess it touched me or something.”

He sighed, and so did Lan Xichen.

“He loved his nephew,” the older man whispered, keeping his voice low as if it hurt him to say that. “He was always excited to speak about him. He really liked Jin Zixuan, you know. At least, I always thought he did. Obviously…”

So he’d reached that stage of it, Nie Huaisang figured. He’d gone through that too. Doubt. Questioning every memory to find hidden meaning behind every action. It could drive a man mad. Clearly it was taking its toll on Lan Xichen who did not have a character made to handle these things.

“I think he liked him well enough,” Nie Huaisang said. “I think he didn’t lie about anyone he liked. It’s hard to fake that sort of things after all.”

“You did,” Lan Xichen accused. “He thought you liked him. I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” Nie Huaisang quickly protested, before realising what he’d just said and how earnest it had sounded. Uh. Perhaps that Emperor’s Smile was stronger than he’d thought after all… but at least, the other two did not appear to have noticed what was wrong with his tone. “I also liked him I suppose. He was nice to me. Bought me nice trinkets. I’ve always been weak to pretty things.”

Without meaning to, he glanced at Lan Xichen first, then at Jiang Cheng. A weakness to beauty indeed. Ah, well, if this worked…

“Jin Guangyao certainly had an eye for the finer things,” Jiang Cheng agreed, glancing at Nie Huaisang since he’d spoken of that, then at Lan Xichen where his gaze lingered a little longer. He probably wasn’t even realising. Adorable. “Made it damn hard to find gifts for A-Ling,” he complained, tearing his eyes away from Lan Xichen. “What can you get a kid when you know his better uncle has probably already given him something stronger and prettier?”

“A-Yao said that his nephew always seemed to enjoy his time in Lotus Piers,” Lan Xichen protested with a gentle smile. “He wouldn’t have sent the child to you so often if it hadn’t made Jin Ling happy to be with you. I’m sure he enjoyed every gift coming from you, and that he still treasures every memory… and in the end, memories are all we have.”

That did little to lighten Jiang Cheng's mood, who ragefully emptied another cup. Lan Xichen too drank some more, but more calmly. When he was finished, he carefully looked at his cup, as if it might hold answers to every question he’d had since discovering the truth.

“We were not lovers,” he announced, the alcohol forcing him to speak more slowly than usual. “I know what everyone says. Even my brother. But we were not.”

“Because he was married?” Jiang Cheng asked bluntly.

Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at the obvious question. Of course that was the only reason Lan Xichen would have hesitated to give in to…

“I was never interested in him that way,” Lan Xichen protested, still looking into his empty cup. “He was my friend, I admired his strength and his…” he paused, and half laughed. “His righteousness, of all things. I knew he had done wrong sometimes, but which of us hasn’t? I encouraged him to join the Wens and spy for us during the war, I’m half guilty of his crimes there. But it was for a right cause. I always could tell myself that his moments of darkness had been for the greater good. He was my friend.”

“You were always touching him,” Nie Huaisang noted. Accused. Regretted. Envied. "Did that mean nothing?" 

“Even when he was Chief Cultivator, people treated him as dirty because of his mother,” Lan Xichen replied, tapping his fingers on his cup. “And people say Lan disciples are a paragon of virtue, so I thought I’d… I don’t know what I thought. It backfired, anyway. Huaisang, did you think I loved him?”

Instead of answering, Nie Huaisang shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he had thought. Perhaps not love, no, because the way Lan Xichen had looked at Jin Guangyao wasn’t the way he looked at Jiang Cheng, but… something, for sure.

Lan Xichen’s face fell at that non-answer.

“Huaisang, is that why you made me kill him?”

Cold seizes Nie Huaisang who wanted nothing more than to run away from this conversation. But he knew… of course he had known they would probably end up discussing what had happened that fateful night. He had thought he was ready. He had thought wrong.

“You did not kill him,” he alluded, avoiding the question. “My brother did. Justice of a sort, I suppose.”

“He would have died anyway. That wound was fatal.” Lan Xichen took a shaky breath and closed his eyes. “I made sure it was fatal.”

The cold inside Nie Huaisang intensified until he could not breathe anymore. The blow inflicted to Jin Guangyao had looked bad, certainly, but he had assumed that had been nothing more than instinct or accident. To hear Lan Xichen confess to it being deliberate was… Nie Huaisang couldn't deal with the trust it implied, a trust he had used and abused and destroyed with no less cruelty than Jin Guangyao did. The only difference was he was still around to carry that guilt.

While Nie Huaisang wallowed in the horror of that confession, Jiang Cheng scuttled closer and, with unexpected gentleness, put a hand on Lan Xichen’s shoulder.

“Jin Guangyao isn’t worthy of your regrets,” he said with intense sincerity. “What he said about his generosity, about never harming you… bullshit. He killed your oldest friend. How’s that supposed not to harm you? He took your spiritual powers to keep you docile, didn’t he? Not something a generous friend would do. He was scared of you. If he was ready to kill Jin Ling, he was ready to kill anyone.”

Lan Xichen's lips parted in a soft gasp at the harsh words and, doubtlessly helped by the alcohol, a few tears escaped him. Surely the wine could be blamed as well when Jiang Cheng, after some hesitation, took his hand from Lan Xichen's shoulder and brought it to his cheek instead, swiping away the tears with a gentleness that left Nie Huaisang choking with envy over both of them. 

"You learn to live with what you can't change," Jiang Cheng promised. "And it's easier if you're not alone. You have your family and your sect. And you have friends as well." 

A new sort of guilt twisted Nie Huaisang’s stomach. He knew he had not been there enough for Jiang Cheng after Nightless City and the siege. He had wanted to, but that was when things had started going downhill for Nie Mingjue. Between their arguments and the need to enjoy those rare moments of peace, Nie Huaisang had had little time for anyone else. 

Maybe if he had paid more attention to others, if he had been a better friend to Jiang Cheng, if he had done more to earn Lan Xichen's trust… but there was little sense of wondering what could have happened if he hadn't been alone. 

As Jiang Cheng said, he just had to live with what he couldn't change… while still changing what he could. 

He stared at the other two men, Jiang Cheng's newfound gentleness, Lan Xichen allowing himself to be approached again. The rest was in their hands. All Nie Huaisang could do now was look for an excuse to leave these two alone and, with the help of the wine, they were sure to end up talking about… 

"I owe you an apology, Nie Huaisang," Lan Xichen said, turning to look at him. "I have not been the friend you and your brother deserved." 

Jiang Cheng's hand fell down from Lan Xichen's cheek and suddenly, Nie Huaisang found himself at the center of both their attention. He could have cursed them. This wasn't about gathering pity for himself. He really needed to go before these two missed their chance. 

"Zewu-Jun, you cannot blame yourself for not knowing what I purposefully hid from you," Nie Huaisang protested with an awkward laugh. "On the contrary, you should probably blame me for much of what happened. If I had spoken earlier…" 

"Then why didn't you?" Jiang Cheng cut him. "I'd have listened." 

"Would you? When I had no concrete proof, nothing by my memory of a song played wrong?" 

"Yes," Jiang Cheng said without a second of hesitation. 

Nie Huaisang felt taken aback by the certainty of his tone, but quickly recovered. 

"That's easy to say now, Wanying. You have forgotten how you were at the time. You did not trust anyone back then." 

"I trusted you," Jiang Cheng claimed with unbearable earnestness. "I still do. I'm here because you said I should be, aren't I?"

Curse the wine, Nie Huaisang thought, and curse Jiang Cheng as well for choosing this moment to open up. His eyes darted toward Lan Xichen, certain that there would not be anything kinder than pity and disdain to be seen there. 

He wasn't sure what to call the expression on that too handsome face. A little pity, yes, but disdain didn't seem the right word. 

"You said I should not stay alone," Lan Xichen whispered. "Neither should you. You said I should not shun my friends. The same could be said of you. You are no more solitary by nature than either of us, Huaisang."

"Don't be so generous, Zewu-Jun," Nie Huaisang scolded in a strangled voice. "You should know better now than to forgive the wrong person." 

"You're not the wrong person, you idiot," Jiang Cheng huffed. Then, after a second of reflection, he added: "You're not Jin Guangyao, no matter what you think of yourself. So stop being so dumb and let us like you."

Before Nie Huaisang could fully register this and get angry that Jiang Cheng had so carelessly brought to light the fear he barely admitted to himself, a hand on his wrist distracted him. 

Lan Xichen's hand. 

"We all need a new start after everything that has come to light," Lan Xichen said with such kindness that Nie Huaisang nearly cried from the pain it caused to his heart. "Why not do it together, all three of us? There is no one I'd want at my side more than the two of you." 

"As your friends?" Nie Huaisang asked, fighting tears. 

Lan Xichen took a moment to think on it. His grip on Nie Huaisang’s wrist tightened slightly as he extended his other hand toward Jiang Cheng who did not hesitate to take it. 

"As friends," Lan Xichen agreed, before shuffling to link his fingers with the other two men's. "And perhaps as something else as well, when we are ready for it. I think I would like that. I hope you would as well."

That was the last drop. Nie Huaisang broke into tears and although he would later blame the wine, it had more to do with the horrifying realisation that these two men, his friends, still accepted him and cared for him after everything he'd done. 

"This isn't how tonight was supposed to go," he sobbed. 

"Good," Jiang Cheng retorted. "Your plans always suck." 

Nie Huaisang laughed, then cried again when Jiang Cheng took his free hand. 

For the first time in a decade, he felt hopeful. 

Nie Huaisang came back to consciousness with a dreadful headache pounding behind his eyes, and promised himself to be more careful with Emperor's Smile in the future. No matter how easily Wei Wuxian drank it, that wine was not light. 

Realising that he was feeling too warm for the season, Nie Huaisang cracked an eye open and quickly realised two things. First, he was not in the guest quarters of the Cloud Recesses. Second, he was not alone in bed. Instead he was plastered against the left side of Lan Xichen, with Jiang Cheng on the other side, his hand fisted into Nie Huaisang’s inner robes as if to keep him in place. 

Things were a little fuzzy but… They had continued drinking a little while after their emotional conversation. When the wine had been gone, Lan Xichen had said that he simply couldn't send them back to their rooms, not when it was dark and well past curfew. Somehow, in their drunken state, it had seemed like an excellent idea for all three of them to share Lan Xichen's bed, even though there was a perfectly comfortable sofa available for Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang was more than fine with sleeping on the floor. 

Emperor's Smile was dangerous stuff. 

At least Nie Huaisang was a little more in control now, in spite of the hangover. He still had a chance to do the right thing. He tried to sit up, only for two sets of arms to tighten their grip on him. 

"Don't," Jiang Cheng ordered. 

"Stay," Lan Xichen pleaded. 

He should have fought them off and left them to deal with themselves without him. It would have been the kinder thing to do. 

But it was warm, being held by these two men who refused to hate him, and Nie Huaisang wasn't selfless enough to give it up. He closed his eyes and pressed himself a little closer against Lan Xichen so he could reach over him and touch Jiang Cheng as well. 

He'd given them every chance he could to make a better choice. If they still both wanted him, he could only accept it. 

[donteattheappleshook]

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 9/14

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4​ for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. Twice now you’ve talked me out of giving up on this one! This story exists because of and is dedicated to you!

This chapter is a little smutty ;). A ‘lime’ as we called it back in my day.

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 9 - The Wrong Direction

When I was a kid the things I did were hidden under the grid / Young and naive I never believed that love could be so well hid / With regret I'm willing to bet and say the older you get / It gets harder to forgive and harder to forget

“I know how to write a song, Killian,” Emma practically snapped, sighing in exasperation. 

“You asked for my help,” he reminded her, sounding equally annoyed. “I don’t know what you were expecting.”

“Well, you’re not showing me anything I don’t already know.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Well, what do you want me to do?” 

Emma was frustrated. They had been bickering for twenty minutes now, since they’d sat down on the bed in her hotel room, guitars in hand, finally trying to write together again. It had been two weeks since Killian had helped her with her song, had helped her finish it, making her realise how much she missed writing real music. And this was the first quiet moment they had been able to find to finally try again. It was not going well. 

Between shows every night and press in the mornings and afternoons, their days were full. When they weren’t performing on stage or in front of a camera they were on the bus with everyone else. Eight of them, jammed into a tour bus that, while spacious, was very claustrophobic and offered them no privacy. 

Emma didn’t want people around for this. She trusted Ruby and Mary Margaret and she’d come to really like Belle and the boys, but having them there, listening - or pretending not to listen - while she tried to relearn how to pour her soul onto a page terrified her. It was enough that Killian was there to see it. That was terrifying on its own. Emma wasn’t good at being vulnerable. But Killian had seen her at her most exposed and hadn’t judged or pitied her. That terrified her even more. Writing with him before had been so easy and so natural, and she feared that she wouldn’t be able to do it on her own. Not yet, anyway. 

But there had been no time. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There had been some time. Usually, at night after their shows they were free to return to their hotel rooms and relax. They’d tried once or twice to write then but they always ended up getting… distracted. It wasn’t her fault. It was Killian’s. He was just so damn good at distracting her. He was just so damn good at kissing her. He was good at everything honestly - but she couldn’t tell him that, it would go straight to his head. 

He would find her by the vending machine in the hotel, or backstage after the show, or even that one time in the restaurant bathroom. Any moment they found themselves alone for a second she’d find herself pressed against a wall or a door with his hands roaming everywhere and his tongue doing unspeakable things to hers. And then he’d leave her with her knees weak, and her heart racing, and so damn frustrated. And she’d be left waiting until the others had gone to bed to seek him out. So yeah, most nights had ended in one of them doing their best to sneak out of the other’s room before anyone woke up. 

But now, now they had two blissful days off. No shows, no driving, no interviews or appearances. They were in Austin for an entire weekend all to themselves. And, that evening, Emma had finally managed to find a moment to sit down with him and try and create something. Instead, they’d been arguing. She knew he was trying to help but all he was doing was giving her advice on things she already knew, structure, chords, melody, fucking rhyme schemes. She knew how to write a song. She needed him to help her find the truths that were hiding scared inside of her, to lure them out like he’d done last time.

She sighed, dejected. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Killian didn’t answer for a minute. A frown pulled down his brow and his lips tightened into a thin line as he thought. “A few weeks ago, when I told you that writing music was like finding a way to have someone else help you carry your burdens… you said it used to be the same for you.”

“It was,” she admitted but her voice sounded distant and sad even to her own ears. 

“So then try that.” He looked at her in that way again, that way that made her feel like he was looking inside of her, into a part of her that she was sure she had kept well hidden from the world. But he could see it. And sometimes, when she looked at him, really looked at him, she thought she saw the same bit inside of him. “Let me help you carry your burdens,” he said, not as an order or an assumption that she should, but as a request. 

Emma had to steel herself. She could do this. She needed to do this. She’d asked him to help and that meant that she’d agreed to letting him see this part, this private part of her. But that didn’t make it any less scary. She nodded and he placed his fingers on the frets of his guitar. He played a couple of chords, improvising a melody. She told him when she liked something and when she didn’t, playing her own instrument and adding bits until they had a little verse they liked. He asked her what she wanted to write about and she said her childhood. 

It shocked her, surprising her even as the words came out of her mouth. She’d avoided talking about her life before Granny and her sisters, avoided thinking about it. He only nodded and waited for her to start. But nothing came. She sat, frustrated and trying to put into words the pain and the naivety and the stolen innocence but she couldn’t. It had been buried too deep for too long. She let out a frustrated groan, her head falling into her hands. The music stopped. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. 

“I don’t know!” she whined. “I just - I can’t remember how to do it. I used to just sit down, you know, with my guitar and my thoughts and then it would just kind of, spill out. I didn’t used to have to think about it. Thinking about it is making it just feel - wrong.”

“Then stop thinking about it,” he encouraged. “Just say whatever pops into your head.” God, he was annoyingly persistent.

She glared at him, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t think you want to hear what’s in my head at the moment.” 

He laughed. “Perhaps not. I could give you prompts, like word associations?”

Emma sighed. It wasn’t working. It wasn’t going to work. She just didn’t have that spark or whatever it was she’d had last time. Last time she’d felt like the words just wanted to come out and so they had. This time they were shy, hiding timidly somewhere she couldn’t find them. She set down her guitar.

“Let’s just try another time,” she said, closing up her case. 

Killian considered her for a long time, long enough that she started to feel a little uncomfortable. He really needed to stop staring at her like he was trying to read her thoughts - she was already half convinced he could.

“We’re trying too hard,” he said finally, moving to put his own guitar away. “That’s the problem. You know, watched pot and all that.” Emma was going to answer but she didn’t get the chance as he picked up his case and grabbed her hand. “Come with me,” he instructed.

“What? Where are we going?” she demanded, barely managing to grab her instrument as she was dragged out of the room. Killian didn’t answer. Instead, he made his way down the hall, stopping at David's room and pounding twice. “Liam and Belle’s room. Five minutes! Bring your kit!” he called through the door. Then he moved on and repeated the same action at Graham’s door, then Ruby’s and then Mary Margaret’s. Finally they reached Liam and Belle’s room and Killian pounded on their door too. 

“Killian,” she said and he looked at her for the first time since they’d left his hotel room. “What are we doing?” she demanded.

He shot her a smile. “Just trust me, Swan.”

“Bloody hell, Killian,” Liam complained when he opened the door. “We’re going to get complaints.” Killian ignored him, pushing his way into the suite and dragging an unwitting Emma behind him. 

“Get your stuff,” he told his brother. “We’re having a riff-off.”

Emma watched as Liam’s face changed from scorn to amusement, and finally to excitement. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Liam excited. It was weird. 

“What is a riff-off?” Emma asked, knowing she probably wouldn’t get an answer. Killian seemed to be in a cryptic mood today. She was proven right when all the answer he gave her was a mysterious ‘you’ll see’. 

As their friends started to trickle into the room, carrying their instruments and looking equal amounts annoyed and confused - and a little rumpled in the case of Graham and Ruby - Liam returned with his guitar, Belle following behind him looking extremely pleased. Emma was surprised to see that she was carrying a ukulele. She had no idea Belle played.

Killian evaded all their questions, corralling them all into the middle of the room. David and Mary Margaret didn’t have their entire drum sets obviously but Mary Margaret had brought her sticks and a smaller drum from the set. David had brought goddamn bongos.  

“You mind telling us what we’re doing here?” Graham insisted, sounding very put-out. Probably at being interrupted, Emma mused trying to hide her smile. 

“Seriously,” Emma demanded now. “What the hell is a riff-off?” 

Her question set off a world of excitement and confusion as the boys suddenly perked up ‘we’re having a riff-off?’ and the girls tried to get a straight answer as to what the hell it was. 

“Who’s got writer’s block?” David teased. Before Emma could answer, her cheeks flushing pink, Killian spoke.

“I do. Now are you going to help me out or are you going to be an ass about it?”

David put his hands up in surrender. 

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on?” Ruby demanded.

“It’s a game we play,” David started. “When one of us is having trouble writing. Or just for fun sometimes,” he smiled. Emma hesitated. She realised then what Killian was doing. He was still trying to get her to write. She didn’t think she liked this. This was songwriting with an audience. She shot him a look and he returned it with another one of those unspoken ‘trust me’s’.

“How does it work?” Mary Margaret asked. Killian answered this time.

“Well, for starters we all have to sit in a circle, so let’s go.” As everyone started shuffling around, moving some furniture to make room and finding a spot on the floor, Emma noticed that there seemed to be some strategy at play that she didn’t understand. David for example, made a point to sit on Graham’s right, something the latter seemed displeased with. Liam did the same to Killian. Emma spotted some room between Mary Margaret and Belle and was going to squeeze in when Killian caught her wrist. 

“Come on, Swan. You’re next to me for this round,” he told her. She hesitated for a second but he only gave her a bright smile and an encouraging nod. She sighed and sat next to him. When they were all settled, Killian explained the rules. “Right. This game is part challenge, part make it up as you go.” He received blank looks from all three newbies. 

“The rules are pretty straight forward,” Belle piped up. “One person starts by playing something on their instrument. It has to be original. They give the person on their left a topic. That person has to make up lyrics based on that topic and sing along to the melody that is given to them. If you falter, hesitate, or plagiarize, you lose and you’re out of the circle. We play to the last man - or woman - standing.”

“A whole song?” Mary Margaret asked, sounding nervous.

“No, only a little verse or something,” David assured her, putting a comforting hand on her knee. She flushed.

“But it has to end intentionally, not because you’ve run out of ideas,” Liam explained. 

“Graham managed a haiku once,” Killian pointed out. Graham gave a showy little bow - as best he could sitting cross-legged on the carpet. 

“Right,” Killian said, reaching back and picking up Emma’s guitar. He handed it to her. “Why don’t you start us off, Swan?” She gave him a little glare. At least he wasn’t making her sing. David was to her left. “Give him a topic, play a little tune for him once and then he has to start.” 

Emma took a deep breath. She could do this. There were no words involved in this - yet. Melodies were easier. She looked at David who waited, seeming wary of what topic she might give him. She liked David though, she figured she’d cut him some slack. She looked around at the rest of his bandmates and smiled, remembering all the times they’d mocked the only ‘yank’ in their group. 

“Brits,” she said. David beamed. She’d hardly finished improvising her riff when he started sharing his opinions on some very specific British habits. Killian, Liam, Belle, and Graham all shot him glares at different points. Emma wasn’t sure, but she thought she might have just learned that Killian had a very unhealthy obsession with The Great British Bake Off. The girls were practically in tears by the time he was done and they burst into applause for him. Alright, Emma thought, this game was pretty fun. 

David was next and had Graham to his left. Graham shot daggers at him before he even named his topic. “Cats,” was all he said. That was how Emma learned that Graham had a paralysing fear of all felines, apparently since he’d been taken to see the musical as a small boy. Emma realised now why some of them had chosen their positions strategically. If you had to sing on the spot, you were forced to sing about the first thing that popped into your head, embarrassing as it may be. You didn’t have time to dismiss an idea and come up with a new one. It must have been impossible for Graham to think of anything besides his fear and so he was forced to confess. David had clearly taken advantage of that. 

“I’ll get you back you bastard,” Graham warned. Ruby was red in the face from trying to contain her laughter. He picked up his bass. Belle was beside him. He smirked. “Your first kiss.” Belle groaned and was forced to sing about the fact that her first kiss had, in fact, been Graham himself. The game went on like that. All of them taking turns to poke fun at each other. Ruby, thanks to Mary Margaret, begrudgingly admitted to believing she was a werewolf for an entire month when she was twelve. Liam made Killian tell them all about how he got the scar on his face - by trying to shave, just like his big brother. That one made Emma smile. 

When it came to her turn, Emma expected Killian to make her sing about something real. But he didn’t. He didn’t the second time around either, or the third. Instead he gave her light topics, things that were fun and easy to sing about. She was honestly impressed with herself when she managed to rise to the challenge of ‘pirates’ which he threw at her out of left field. Slowly, one after the other, their friends were eliminated. Graham, as he stumbled near the end of what was turning out to be a fairly endearing love song prompted by the word ‘red’, Belle, as she blanked on anything having to do with Star Wars, Liam when he flipped Ruby off for saying ‘love letters’. 

They all booed but then cheered as David was the next eliminated, trying and failing to manage a rap to the topic of ‘prom night’. Emma played for Mary Margaret who stumbled on ‘talking birds’, turning bright red and refusing to admit to the year she was convinced she had super powers. But Ruby succeeded through Emma’s challenge to sing about Leonardo DiCaprio, her first love. 

It was Ruby’s turn to play for Killian now. She looked at Killian with a challenge in her eye. “Secrets,” she said and he stumbled for a second but managed to recover by the time it was his turn to sing. It was the weakest of his verses yet but he didn’t falter. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the exchange and Emma felt her heart flutter in her chest, wondering if Ruby knew - about them. 

Ruby gave him a congratulatory nod. It was her turn now, she could feel the adrenaline in her veins, the excited kind of anxiousness as she awaited her topic, a smile already on her face.

“Kids,” Killian said and she didn’t even have a chance to be surprised before he started playing a tune she recognized, the one they’d composed earlier. He hadn’t asked her specifically about her childhood, hadn’t insisted she sing about being a kid herself, but that was all that came to mind, the way she had felt free then, like nothing she did had consequences, but only for a little while. She’d learned young that the world could bite and that if you didn’t bite back, protect yourself, it would eat you alive. And so that’s what she sang about. The words came out of her, poured out of her as quickly as she could think of them, there was no time for questioning or self-doubt, only to sing. 

The song went on longer than any of the others had. But nobody complained. Killian didn’t stop playing. He didn’t falter, only looking at her encouragingly, a small smile creeping over his face as she went on, laying everything out, speaking her truth, no matter how gritty. She stared at him as she finished. He’d done it again. Somehow he’d managed to find a way to find what was inside of her, what was hiding in the darkness, and bring it to the light. He’d found a way to make her feel comfortable enough to do it. She was a little bit in awe.

“Holy shit,” Liam whispered and that broke the silence that had engulfed the room. 

“Emma, that was fucking awesome!” Ruby cheered. “Please tell me someone got that down!”

Belle held up her phone. “I always record these. It’s where all the best stuff comes out.” 

“No kidding!” David agreed. 

Emma and Killian were still staring at one another. Emma couldn’t help herself. The way he was looking at her, the soft smile on his face, he looked proud of her and it was unsettling how much she liked it. She was proud of herself. He’d helped her get there. He’d known what she needed and he’d given it to her. Not for the first time, it scared her how well he seemed to know her. What scared her more was that she was starting to want him to know her. And, she realised, she wanted to know him too. 

She cleared her throat, unable to hold his gaze any longer. “Game’s not over,” she reminded them. She turned to Ruby, only the three of them were left. 

Emma was eliminated next, faltering over ‘wine Wednesdays’ and turning red remembering the time Ruby had to get a bouncer she knew to throw Emma over his shoulder so they could get her in the cab. It was down to Ruby and Killian now. Ruby just barely managed to make it through a verse about ‘Irishmen’, pointedly not looking at Graham the whole time. But there was an amused sort of fire in her eyes that warned that Killian did not want to go toe to toe with her. She looked him in the eye and smirked. 

“Blondes.”

Ruby won. Killain stuttered, eyes casting far too conspicuously to Emma and then even more conspicuously at anywhere else. It would seem in his desperation to keep their secret, he blanked on anything else to sing about. He admitted defeat gracefully and Ruby less-gracefully threw her hands in the air, letting out a ‘whoop’. She was surrounded by congradulations.

“What’s my prize?” she asked.

Killian considered it. “How about you get to choose what we do tonight with our first night off?”

They agreed this was fair and Ruby immediately looked to Mary Margaret who brightened up. Emma knew where they were going before she said it. 

“Get your stuff!” she ordered before heading straight for the door. “Meet us downstairs in five!” 

Everyone seemed to be okay with just following along with whatever Ruby wanted, even Liam let Belle drag him out of the living area and into the bedroom without question. Killian hung back, waiting for her, looking confused.

“Where are we going?” 

Emma smirked a little. “We’re going to the fair.” 

“The fair?” he looked even more confused and a little nervous. 

“Mhm. I saw the signs advertising it when we first got here. I knew she’d make us go - her or Mary Margaret. They love fairs - amusement parks too. Anything with rides really. Every summer we try find a new one to go to.” She paused, taking in his expression. “Why do you look so freaked out?” 

He looked like he’d really put up a good fight against the blush on his face. She couldn’t tell if he looked more red with embarrassment or white with nerves. He rubbed at the back of his neck before letting his head fall back and confessing. “I hate rides.” 

She felt the smile tugging at the corner of her lips, remembering his reaction to flying. She stepped forward, grabbing the front of his shirt and giving him a little tug until he looked at her. “Come on, you big baby. There are games too, you know. Let’s go and I’ll win you a teddy bear.” 

Killian tried to hide his amusement, determined to only appear annoyed at her teasing but the little upward twitch of his lips gave him away. Finally he lost the battle, offering her a mirthful smile, brows raised. “Promise?”

She nodded. “I’m amazing at carnival games,” she bragged. 

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, suddenly seeming to realise how close she was standing and taking advantage. He slipped his arm around her waist, drew her a little further into him. “Will you win me a big one?”

She raised a brow. “A big one?”

“Aye. I want one of those giant bears that are bigger than me.” His free hand came up to toy with the ends of her hair and Emma let her arms slide up around his shoulders. “I want all the other boys at the fair to be jealous.” 

She laughed. She noticed she’d been doing that a lot more lately. “Alright then, a giant bear it is.” 

He grinned, his arm tightening around her middle as his head bowed, his next words spoken somewhere near her jaw. “How on earth will I possibly thank you?” he asked. She could feel the roughness of his cheek against her own and his breath on her neck and her stomach gave a little flip. She smiled, practically giggling as his lips pressed against her throat. 

They heard the bedroom door open and jumped apart, doing their absolute best to look casual. They were standing way too close. She knew they were because as Liam and Belle stepped out, they hesitated, giving them slightly questioning looks. 

“What are you still doing here?” Liam asked. Emma floundered for a second as Killian stood there completely useless.

“Ruby's making us go to the fair. I'm trying to convince your brother to go on the pendulum ride with me,” she lied. 

Liam barked out a laugh. “Fat chance,” he told her. “I couldn’t even get him to try bumper cars until he was sixteen.” 

“Oy, let’s not make up lies now,” Killian protested, looking annoyed and just embarrassed enough that Emma was pretty sure it wasn’t a lie at all. She smirked. 

As the brothers bickered, Emma turned to Belle, hoping to share in the amusement of watching two grown men acting like children. But Belle was already looking at her, her expression far too knowing and definitely far too pleased. Her gaze flickered to Killian. Emma shifted uncomfortably then cleared her throat, announcing that she would meet them downstairs. That had been way too close.

They decided to walk there since the weather was nice. It wasn’t far, only a few miles and David, apparently annoyingly healthy, active David, had insisted they needed the exercise after so many days sitting on a bus. Emma had thought about protesting but Mary Margaret and Ruby had looped their arms through hers and practically carried her down the street with them.

“I’m so glad we’re still gonna get to do this this summer,” Mary Margaret exclaimed happily.

“Me too,” Ruby agreed. “I thought the tour would mess with our tradition.”

“What tradition is that?” Emma smirked. “You whooping my ass at the balloon pop and Snow eating so much cotton candy that she pukes?”

“Don’t call me that! And I didn’t puke.” She stuck out her tongue at Emma.

“Yes, exactly that tradition,” Ruby smiled a little nostalgically. 

She got it. Ruby wasn’t the sentimental type but the summer that Granny found Emma and Mary Margaret had been a rocky one to say the least. Both of them were teenage girls who didn’t trust easy. They’d moped most of the season until finally, Granny had forced them out of their rooms and out to the small town county fair. Despite their best efforts, the girls hadn’t been able to have a bad time - largely due to Ruby. She was hard not to like. Granny had introduced them to everyone as her kids with no further explanation. It was the first time the three of them had felt like a family and so, sentimental or not, Ruby liked tradition. 

“Do you think they’ll have a tea cup ride?” Mary Margaret asked excitedly. 

“They shouldn’t be allowed to call themselves a fair if they don’t,” Ruby answered. 

“As long as there’s a ferris wheel, I’m happy,” Emma said. 

“You are the most boring person ever,” Ruby teased.

“What? I like ferris wheels!” Emma insisted. Ruby rolled her eyes. She looked over at Killian and Belle who were walking a few paces ahead. She smirked.

“Maybe you’ll find someone to go on it with you,” she hinted suggestively. 

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, heart racing. Shit. Did she know? She couldn’t know. They’d been careful. Maybe not careful enough.

“Nothing. Just, you know, ferris wheels can be awfully romantic.” She winked before looking pointedly at the pair ahead of them again. Emma’s mouth dropped open as she searched for something to say. “Might be nice to have something pretty to look at while you’re on it.” 

“Ruby,” she said seriously, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Belle is married.” 

Ruby threw her head back laughing. She dropped it after that. 

They reached the fair and her friends practically raced off to the ticket booth, coming back with armfulls of tickets. 

Liam looked at them skeptically. “How long are we planning to stay here?”

“Please,” Mary Margaret said. “These will last us an hour if we’re lucky.” 

Liam looked helplessly at Emma. She shrugged. “They take their fair visits very seriously. Blame your brother.” 

“Oy!” Killian called from somewhere behind her. She smirked. 

“What first?” David asked, looking nearly as excited as Mary Margaret to be here. Or maybe he was just excited to be here with her. It was kind of cute actually. 

“Games?” Emma suggested. She definitely didn’t suggest it so that Killian wouldn’t feel left out. She wasn’t that considerate. She caught him smiling softly and she looked away. 

“Yes!” Ruby agreed. She grabbed Graham’s hand. “Come on!” 

The others followed. But Emma caught hold of Killian’s arm. He held back.

“What is it?”

“We need to be more careful. I think Ruby suspects something and your brother almost caught us back at the hotel.” 

He cocked his head. “Is that so bad,” he asked. Of course it was bad, she wanted to say, but he continued. “It’s just sex right? What does it matter if they know. We’re both adults.” 

Emma tried to ignore the way his words affected her. It’s just sex. They were her words, he was merely saying them back to her. Then why did it feel like he’d dumped a bucket of cold water on her? She could feel something prickling under her skin and she didn’t like it. She shook out her hands a little, trying to clear it. 

“Swan?” he asked, looking concerned now. 

“No, you’re right. It’s just… I know my friends. They’ll make a big deal out of it and I don’t want to deal with that right now.” It was the truth, but it felt heavy and wrong on her tongue. It’s just sex, she repeated to herself. What the hell is wrong with you? 

“Understood,” he nodded. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Thank you.” 

They headed off after their group, realising that hanging back alone was a little too conspicuous. They had nearly caught up when Killian grabbed her, pulling her behind a booth. 

“What are you -” 

He took hold of her face with both hands and pressed his lips to hers. She was shocked for a moment - how the hell was this in keeping with their ‘be more discreet’ agreement? - but then his mouth opened over hers and she reacted instinctively, grabbing hold of his hips and finding his tongue with her own. He only kissed her for a second, pulling back and leaving her standing there with her mouth open, gaping like an idiot. He was grinning from ear to ear, looking way too smug for her liking.

“Killian!” Her voice was higher and a little rougher than she’d intended. “What the hell was -” 

“Shh,” he hushed, bringing a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret. We don’t want the others to hear.” He winked and then backed away, heading back after the group. “Don’t follow right away. We wouldn’t want them to get suspicious.” She stared at him in disbelief - at how boyish and giddy he looked. 

“Oh fucking hell,” she groaned. “I just gave you a challenge didn’t I?” He walked away, shooting her a goofy smile, eyebrows waggling. She definitely didn’t feel as annoyed as she wanted to. 

They played a few games, the ring toss and balloon pop (Ruby did, in fact, whoop Emma’s ass again), and skeeball. The entire time Killian made a point to continue this secrecy challenge. Twice she felt his hand on her ass while they were playing a game or chatting with the others, only to look up and find him looking very invested in what someone was saying, the picture of innocence. She’d created a monster. 

Killian was surprisingly good at all of the games and it was really starting to get on Emma’s nerves. Particularly because she was playing so poorly - which was entirely due to her opponent's wandering hands. She missed the balloon completely when she felt his fingers brush at the skin of her hip bone.  She hadn’t beat him at a single one yet. The dirty cheater. He was getting really cocky about it too. 

Belle and Liam had gone off to see what kind of show was going on at the stage and David had taken Mary Margaret away to feed her when Emma spotted it: a shooting game. It was one of those dinky little things where you were given a pellet gun and had to knock down as many moving targets as possible. Emma smirked. Time to knock the cocky grin right off of Killian’s face. 

“Okay show-off, think you can hold your own at this one?” She was trying to provoke him. 

He eyed it. “Absolutely,” he answered confidently. “Prepare to have your ass handed to you, Swan.” 

She caught Ruby’s eye and the two exchanged grins. “Really?” Emma asked. “Care to put a little wager on that?” 

He smirked. “What did you have in mind?”

Emma gave the man in the booth her tickets. “If you win, I will admit, on stage at the next show, that you’re far superior at all games than I am.” He looked happy with that offer. “If I win, you have to go on whatever ride I pick.”

He didn’t even think about it. “Deal. You do remember I was in the navy, don’t you?” he said, the arrogance heavy in his voice. He was handed his pellet gun and took his turn. He hit seven out of the ten targets. He looked very pleased with himself. “I very much look forward to our next show.” 

Emma only smiled as she was handed her own pellet gun. “You’ve been out of the navy for what, ten years?” She could feel Ruby smiling behind her, could hear Graham asking her what was up, wanting to be let in on the joke. Killian nodded. She shot him a cunning grin. “I never told you what I do for a living, did I?” And with that, Emma whirled on the targets and shot down all ten of them in as many rapid shots. 

She didn’t bother to hide her smugness as she turned back to her friends, resting the fake rifle on her hip. Killian was staring at the targets with wide eyes, his mouth slack-jawed. He looked at her with wonder and amazement and maybe a tiny bit of fear. Graham was laughing so hard he was doubled over, clutching at his stomach.

“What the bloody hell do you do for a living?” Emma only smiled as she was handed the giant teddy bear, the one that was bigger than Killian. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She handed him the bear. He was still standing there dumbfounded. Graham was still laughing.

Graham was more than happy to recall the entire story to the rest of their friends when they met up for hotdogs and fries a little later, making a point to include Killian’s paralyzing fear of carnival rides. Liam teased the hell out of his brother, accusing him of forgetting everything he’d taught him but backing down when Killian challenged him to the game. Emma didn’t participate much in the conversation. She was too distracted by the feeling of Killian’s fingers on her inner thigh under the table, which had been boldy creeping higher and higher since they sat down. They were nearly at the seam of her jeans when someone called her name. It sounded like it wasn’t the first time they’d said it.

“Sorry, what?” His hand squeezed her thigh.

“I was just asking what ride you were going to take Killian on,” Belle said eagerly. 

“I don’t know,” Emma mused. “Maybe something easy like the teacups,” she said, but then his hand creeped up higher, making it difficult for her to keep her breath steady. She glared at him. “Or maybe he wants to try the Gravitron.” His hand dropped back to her knee. 

“Yes! You should definitely take him on the Gravitron!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “That’s the best ride in the park!”

“I love that one!” David agreed, already hyped up. There was a consensus around the table. 

“I think it’s time we went on some rides,” Ruby decreed. “Come on, let’s pop Killian’s zero-gravity cherry.” Killian’s hand tightened on her knee then, and she was pretty sure this time it was out of fear rather than an attempt to drive her insane. She looked at him, he looked nervous. He’d been an ass but she took pity on him. 

“Nah, you guys go ahead. I think I’ll start him off on something a little tamer. I don’t want him puking on me,” she said. This time the squeeze was a thank you. The others headed off towards the braver rides and Emma and Killian set off to find something easier, Killian towing his giant pink bear along with them. 

“You know, you’re not making this whole secret thing easy,” she pointed out.

He turned wide, innocent eyes on her. “What do you mean? I’ve been the picture of discreet. Nobody suspects a thing.” He leaned down then, his breath hot on her ear as they walked. “Besides, it’s been quite fun watching you get flustered all night.” 

The asshole, she thought. She knew he’d been doing it on purpose but to hear him admit it made her feel annoyed and angry and… wanting. She wanted him. A lot. Right now. But mostly, it made her want revenge. They’d wandered near the edge of the booths which backed up into a small wooded area and Emma saw her chance. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back, away from the lights of the carnival and into the cluster of trees where the neon glow was barely a suggestion. He stumbled back, questioning sounds leaving his lips until his back collided with a tree trunk and she pressed herself against him. 

“Swan, what -” 

She cut him off, slanting her lips over his and grabbing hold of the loops in the back of his jeans, pulling his hips into her own. His startled groan turned into a dirty growl as his arms came up around her back, trapping her within them and tilting her head back so he could explore her mouth deeper. Emma nearly allowed herself to get lost in it. He was such a goddamn good kisser and the way his hips were grinding into her own, his hand sliding down to her ass, grabbing hold of it to pull her almost harshly against him sent heat shooting through every fiber of her body. Ugh - she wanted him. But she wanted to make him to pay more.  

The feel of his growing erection pressed against her stomach reminded her of her goal and she moved her lips to his neck, nipping and licking at his jaw as she wormed her hand down between them. She heard the gasp that caught in his throat as she palmed him through his jeans. His head fell back against the bark and his hands dropped to her sides, giving her room to continue. He let out desperate noises as she stroked him a few times, waiting until she could feel how painfully hard he must be before stepping back. 

The look of pure shock and dismay on his face as he watched her back away, back towards the carnival made the ache in her stomach and between her legs worth it. Gotcha. She smirked. 

“Swan, what…” He couldn’t even string a sentence together and it made her feel way, way too smug. It was nice to know, she thought, that she apparently had the same effect on him as he had on her. 

“Don't play with fire unless you’re willing to get your fingers burnt,” she taunted, practically giddy with female pride and at getting him back for all his teasing. 

She turned around and headed for the bright lights as though nothing had happened. She didn’t get far, hadn’t left the cover of the trees before his arm snaked around her belly, pulling her back against him. She could still feel his hardness pressed against her back. His hand slid up to her breast, fingers finding her nipple through the fabric of her shirt and she forgot she was annoyed with him for a second, her head falling back against his shoulder. An embarrassing sound left her. 

“That’s bad form, Emma,” he told her, his voice raspy against her ear. “Leaving a man like that.” His hips pushed up against her back and she forced herself to remember exactly how intentionally riled up he’d gotten her for his own amusement. 

“Worse form than spending the whole night getting a girl - what did you call it, flustered? - with no follow through?” 

He hummed in her ear. “You’re right, Swan, that was very wrong of me.” His teeth scraped at her ear, pulling the lobe into his mouth. His thumb didn’t stop its assault on her breast. “Allow me to make it up to you.” His other hand started inching its way towards the waistband of her jeans and Emma was pretty sure she was about to let him fuck her right here in the woods when the were interrupted by a giggle and some branches snapping. Someone spoke. They froze, desire turning to adrenaline as she prayed that nobody would see them. It was a second before Emma recognized the voice. 

“Shh, someone will hear us,” Mary Margaret said. It sounded like she was dragging an equally giddy David into the woods with her to do… well, exactly what she and Killian had been trying to do. Killian released her then. Apparently, knowing that their friends were getting it on a few yards away had the same effect on him as it had on her. She turned to him and he had a funny grin on his face when she met his eyes. It was a little awkward between them for a moment but then they heard what sounded a lot like a moan and they burst out laughing, both doing their best to muffle their laughter and not give themselves away. Killian tilted his head towards the fair and Emma nodded, the two heading back towards the crowds as silently as possible. Killian didn’t forget his bear.

“So, what have you chosen as my punishment?” he asked as they reached the rides. He looked a little nervous but also resigned to his fate. She decided to be kind. He had, after all, helped her find her way back to writing today.

“Think you can handle the ferris wheel?” she asked, with a raised brow. 

He looked relieved. “Aye. That I can do.” 

They reached the attraction and handed over their tickets. Killian nearly got into an argument with the teenager operating the ride about whether or not he could take his bear with them. 

“It sits three!” he insisted. He won eventually, settling in the seat with Emma to his left and the giant pink monstrosity to his right. 

“Are you really going to carry that thing with you all night?” 

“Of course I am. I told you, Swan, I want to be the envy of every man here.” 

Emma rolled her eyes and the bench gave a little lurch as the ride started. Emma loved the ferris wheel. She loved being so high up, getting to see so much of the town around her all at once. For someone who had never gone much further west, north, or south than New York, it felt like she had the whole world at her fingertips. The ride stopped, leaving them stuck near the very top. She loved it when it did that. It was her favorite part. She looked out at the horizon, a happy smile on her face.

“What are you thinking?” Killian asked, his voice soft beside her. She didn’t want to tell him. He’d seen so much of the world and she felt small and boring for having been so confined to one place - so stuck. She knew he wouldn’t judge her, but she still wanted him to… she didn’t know. Find her interesting? She didn’t know how to handle that feeling. She’d never wanted anything from any man. Never cared what they thought of her. But she cared what Killian thought. 

She gave him a wry smile, deciding on a white lie. “I was thinking that I can’t believe David and Mary Margaret are banging in the woods right now.” 

He laughed. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Those two have been all over each other.” 

“I am!” she countered. “You don’t know Mary Margaret like I do. Sex in the woods is not her style. Casual sex in general isn’t really her style.” She smiled a little thinking of her glacial moving friend who insisted on love before sex. “That’s more the kind of thing I’d have expected from Ruby and Graham.” 

Killian’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“Ruby and Graham,” she repeated. “They’re like ‘together’ I think. You must have noticed.” 

He seemed genuinely surprised. “I didn’t know it was serious! I thought that was just her personality.” She quirked an eyebrow. “The flirting I mean. She flirted with me!” Emma bit back her smile. Every man in the world thought Ruby flirted with them. 

“Sure she did,” she teased. 

“She did!” he insisted. “Poor Graham,” he said then, shaking his head. “She’s gonna eat him alive.” Emma nearly laughed, remembering having that exact thought.

“I dunno,” she said honestly. “I think she really likes him. I haven’t seen her like this since…” she paused, a frown crossing her brow as she tried to remember Ruby being this infatuated, this happy. “Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like this.”

“She might be good for him,” he said thoughtfully. “The last woman he was with nearly ripped out his heart. Ruby seems kind, protective.” 

Killian smiled and Emma took a minute to just think about her friends, time to enjoy the contentedness and the peace it brought her to see them so happy. It was then that Emma realised something. She was happy. It came as a surprise. She hadn’t been particularly unhappy before. She’d been comfortable with her life, satisfied for the most part and resigned to the fact that this was all she was going to get. But there had been something missing. Music had been missing, adventure had been missing, fun had been missing. 

She realised then that the person who had brought all of those things back into her life was sitting next to her now, holding a stupid, monsterous bear. It hit her like a blow to the chest, but rather than knock her back, rather than scare her, she felt it spread through her limbs, into her fingers and warm her from the inside as she turned to look at him. He was staring out at the city below them with a slight sort of amazement in his eyes and she wondered for a moment, not for the first time, if maybe he understood her more than she thought. She put her hand over his where it rested on the safety bar. He looked up at her. 

“I never said thank you. For helping me today.”

He gave her a half smile. “Think nothing of it,” he said. He leaned in a bit, his next words coming out with plain honesty. “I like helping you, Emma. I like writing with you, spending time with you.” He paused then and something crossed his face, something soft and a little vulnerable. “I like y-” she cut him off, pressing her lips to his. Please don’t say it. She couldn’t hear it. If he said it… if he said it then this would be over. Their rules were clear and if he - she didn’t want it to be over. 

For a moment she thought he would protest but then he brought his hand to her cheek and kissed her back, letting her silence him. Thank you, she wanted to say again. The ride started once more, giving a slight jerk and Killian pulled back quickly. She was a little disappointed until he smiled deviously at her. 

“Well now every man here is definitely jealous of me.” He pulled the bear from where it was sitting beside him and propped it in his lap, it’s stupidly massive size effectively hiding their faces from any onlookers. “Can’t be too careful,” he reminded her before pressing his lips to hers again. 

She smiled. Idiot. 

[joygaroz]

sehnsucht

AU. She rather had him with her against his will, than never being able to see him again; this are her thoughts as she claims to be engaged to the ex rounin, Uchiha Sasuke, who is about to be sentenced to exhile.

AO3 || previous >>> five >>> tbc...

It’s because as days pass by that his silence makes her restless that she decides to bring up the issue at the table in the next meeting. A meeting she requests to the Hokage.

It’s been several days now that she comes home only to find him watching outside the only mirror that offers view to the outside in a posture that makes her think that he’s not really there with her, his eyes lost somewhere in the view to the other side of the glass, longing for more.

Her heart keeps clenching despite reminding herself in more than one occasion that this was inevitable and a reasonable behavior.

Because when she calls for him, his eyes take their time in distinguishing her figure a second more than the time he takes in turning his face in her direction.

“I’d like to propose to lift the house arrest of Uchiha Sasuke” she spoke once she was in front of Kakashi, his attention at last on her after putting aside some of the files he had been scribbling on.

“So, not satisfied with requesting for him to stay in Konoha you want him to wander nonchalantly among civils?” one of the members of the council addressed her, even though she was facing to Kakashi’s direction, the large desk occupied at least six seats occupied by said members. All stuck up faces directed towards her standing form in the middle of the room.

“Being locked in doesn’t give anyone any benefits, being isolated won’t allow him to have a different perspective of the one he had before his return” she replied growing annoyed by each second.

“So, are you saying it’s not enough with your company?” this was a different voice, with a fake surprise tone that irked her but she knew better than to let it show.

“Even if I’d like to say that yes, the truth is that what he needs more than my company is to notice the change in his surroundings so he can adapt to it. How do you expect him to change if you don’t give him the chance to offer something new to this society that he has stopped knowing?”

“We’re not talking about someone who lost his memory, we are talking about someone who—”

“Someone who made mistakes in the past thanks to a judgement badly influenced. Exactly, it needs to be proven the right truth” this time, she whirled her face in order to face the person that had tried to speak ill of him.

Sakura suppressed the urge to frown at the member. It was clear to her, to Naruto and even to Kakashi that these people, responsible of so many misjudges, were the least indicated to point out misconceptions of other people, and yet…

“It might be like that but we keep talking about someone with instability of great abilities. We could not possibly leave him unsupervised overnight” once they addressed the issue she had been thinking about, Sakura smirked —maybe something she had gained from him, maybe something she had been hiding in her as she grew older and more confident.

“What about a volunteer as escort?” she tilted her head to the side, one of her pink brows raising.

“What do you mean?”

“Uzumaki Naruto, the only person capable to keep him at bay, isn’t he?” she offered.

Once more, she made good use of the knowledge of the village’s needs in their favor. This, Kakashi noted as he hid a smirk under his mask.

After a long minute of silence and glances from one to the other, they replied:

“We’ll consider your proposal, and check on it on the next meeting”.

It soon became a custom, to have Naruto daily with them. Not always arriving at the same time, but spending hours at their flat nonetheless.

He’ll excuse himself saying he gets bored of studying and needs to clear his head. In reality, he was as concerned as Sakura about Sasuke adapting to this new atmosphere in which he was left alone surrounded by only four walls.

Sasuke was no fool; he had noticed their ulterior motives, but said nothing. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was thankful too. It was harsh to deal, actually; Solitude often making his thoughts drift to murky ghosts, often making him abruptly wake up after unknowingly falling asleep.

Today, though, the blond had barged in with a considerable amount of liquor in his arms.

At first it was like usual, just the two of them. Without having nothing much else to do, the pair started to chug the sour yet addicting liquor in small shots and soon enough, their heads became lightheaded.

They were arguing about why tomatoes were better than ramen (and why Sasuke was just talking bullshit), when Sakura got home from her shift. It took only one glance at the mess they had created in the living room for her to know she was far too exhausted to argue so she just opened up a brand-new bottle of sake and slumped on the once tidy floor in front of her boys.

Silently listening to their usual banter, she quickly caught up with them and finished her first bottle when Naruto changed topic abruptly.

“We might as well just date each other already”

Both his best friends snapped their heads in the blond’s direction, completely taken aback by his blunt confession.

“Why?”

“No way” both of them replied simultaneously.

Naruto replied with a grunt, a gesture he had completely taken from the Uchiha, but had yet to notice; he fidgeted with his glass of sake a few moments before continuing.

“I mean, we’re too messed up to be dating anyone else out of the team, aren’t we?”

“Excuse me?” Sakura argued, baffled and offended. Sasuke, on the other hand, remained silent and continued to taste his liquor also stumbled somewhere on his living room’s floor.

“Yeah okay, except maybe Sakura-chan, but honestly your taste in men so far has proven that you’ve got some kind of twisted kink don’t you think?”

As a reply, Sakura took a long chug of her drink and looked elsewhere.

“We’re not that messed up…” her voice was barely a whisper, only for her ears to hear.

Sakura decided then to turn and face her usually optimistic and loud teammate, finding him tumbled against Sasuke’s backseat, resting one of his elbows on the back and in hand hanging his almost empty bottle of sake. His usually childish and goofy smile turned into a concentrating frown of worry.

“What about Hinata?” her mind suddenly lightened.

“This is about Hinata…”

“Oh?” now, both Sakura and Sasuke looked curiously at the blond, the latter raising an eyebrow at his blond friend.

The tanned boy ruffled his hair with his free hand, now aware of the curious stares of his friends.

“She’s so gentle, composed and has this whole bunch of prospects… most certainly less fucked up than me… She should be better off without a burden like me”

Sakura squinted her eyes in his direction, leaning over the small table. Sasuke kept as skeptic as before, but his attention seemed to be diverting to his own glass of sake which he had now found a liking.

This was rather unusual coming from someone who just not long ago cheered on her relationship, but maybe, this and that were totally different things after all. While Sasuke and her tried to make a fake relationship work, Naruto and Hinata…

The girl broke the unusual silence by bursting into a laugh, now it was the males turn to snap their heads in her direction.

“You are that stupid, huh?”

“Wha-?”

“This concern of yours, it is stupid” She shook her head in disapproval. “That you are concerned over something so silly as to being worthy of the one you love is proof that you reciprocate her feelings”

“Wa-wait! The one I love…?” still shocked by the reveal, Naruto incorporated from his slumped position and leaned into the table like Sakura, who was smirking.

“You do” she shrugged as she continued explaining “us girls tend to have the same thoughts once or twice, the only thing that should worry you now is… are you willing to fight and be worthy of her? And I don’t mean physically strong, clearly, you’re over that but rather… fight for her feelings? Make her happy and stuff”

Then she noticed his eyes sparkling once again, face lighting up and foxy grin coming across his features.            

“Yes, dattebayo!”

As both of them continued to brighten up, Sasuke fidgeted with his now empty glass of sake, contemplating on what his female teammate had said…

It seemed like there was a name for his constant concern over her wellbeing.

Because, even if he could tell she handled her liquor quite alright, even as they managed to tidy up the mess and get to bed with much ado, Sasuke sometimes wished he could do more.

The truth was that there was little to do at home with only two persons living in that small apartment. Even if Sasuke wished to help and do some chores, even if he took his time struggling from time to time due to his lack of arm, he often managed to get it done before Sakura arrived. Which he came to notice, it continued to keep being later than last time.

He tried to understand, she was an important asset to the hospital, probably in charge of more than one field and even if he tried to tell himself that it was all to be expected, something felt wrong.

While she was working her ass off, she also felt this need to help him out by living with him in this deplorable place.

It somehow irked him. How powerless he was at the moment, not being able to do much but the trivial stuff at home like washing and tidying. Not that there was much to wash or tidy up anyway but as he scrambled through the scrolls Sakura had left out of its shelf, he wondered if there was something useful there. He had his chakra sealed still, but he wondered.

If what Sakura had accomplished all these years had been thanks to her outstanding skill at controlling her chakra, could he be able to give it a try?

And so, while the hours alone continued to pass, he studied. He read and consulted, and he also discovered. How unusual all these discovering’s were when he noticed as the most recent scrolls mentioned an anomaly in the chakra source.

An anomaly like they had called Kaguya’s power.

Just as his thoughts led him to that issue, his eyes squinting in contemplation, he heard Sakura stumble through the door, her usually graceful and chirpy greeting lost between the loud fumble of things clashing against each other.

The forming frown on the dark-haired man pronounced. Talking about unusual things.

“Sakura” he called for her as he neared the entrance, only to find her panting as she tried to steady her elaborated breathing while resting against the wall of the corridor.

He had to suppress a curse as a sting invaded him while watching how she tried to force a reassuring smile on her face even if she was panting and her eyes were clouded and lost. Even as she was at the verge of collapsing, she still tried her best to look strong in front of him.

As if he didn’t know already how capable she was, as if he didn’t know how much of her, she offered for everyone that surrounded her.

He opted to click his tongue and approach her, just in time to catch her as she gave out to his chest.

He gently laid her to rest on the futon, her tired eyes struggling to remain open as he measured her fever before emanating some of his chakra to light his palm—soon emitting a soothing sensation against her forehead that she was pretty familiar with.

"W-where did you learn to heal?" looking tiredly at his face, she noticed a ghost of a smirk decorate his lips.

"Your books" he replied shortly, too focused on remain emanating his soothing chakra on her, aware this was a task that required much of his attention.

"Heh, you've run out of things to do that you've been going through my stuff?"

"Hm"

"--Wait! You've been going through my stuff?" she reacted a few seconds later, trying to reincorporate herself into a seated position but stopped midtrack by Sasuke's palm against her shoulder.

"Tch. Why are you getting so worked up? Is there something I shouldn't find out? Even though we're engaged..."

"Sasuke-kun!"

Noticing the blush that had little to do with her fever, he smirked once more, this time without holding back before chuckling and instructing her.

"Lay down, you annoying patient" he commanded with a tone half playful half strict. She could only stare at his form as he lifted from the ground where she laid at their futon and went out of the room towards the kitchen, she presumed.

She closed her eyes trying to steady her hearbeat, since recalling the tender touch of his hand against her heated forehead had been so delicate and so soothing, she had trouble trying to keep up with this new side of Sasuke she had just discovered.

Even in her delirious state, she wondered. Had she been doing enough for those who did not have someone to look after them like she did? Had she been doing enough to stop being a burden to those who worried about her?

When he entered the room again, He found her incorporated in a seated position against the wall, her gaze somewhere else as she stared at her lap.

"This war is far from being over" her voice was even, almost talking to the past, as if recalling, must certainly the events that had transpired earlier that day, most certainly someone who she had been attending to.

He silently observed, how her eyes glassed before clenching shut, the trembling of her lip letting him know she was way too tired to pretend she was okay.

"Even when we are no longer in the battlefield, we... have so much to deal with still".

He listened to her, silently agreeing as he recalled the suspicious coincidence he had discovered as he studied the scrolls.

There was so much to deal with still, and he had yet to figure out a way to make amends in his current position.

[arcanelaurels]

I’ve been super into taakitz college AU, could you write them meeting for the first time, like humping into each other at a party or something like that? ❤️❤️

Anon I’m fucking DYING did you mean to say “humping” or “bumping” bc I’m???? losing my goddamn MIND akdsknksljk 

I love this and now I gotta write both

Kravitz hated parties. He didn’t even know why he kept going to them. Maybe it was the idea of putting off schoolwork for another night. Maybe it was the free alcohol. Or maybe it was the hesitant promise of meeting someone new and exciting, of having a good time.

But that never happened. No, instead it always ended up the same way. Him being too self-conscious to get any further gone than tipsy while everyone around him got plastered. On the dance floor, people clung to each other in the darkness and the heat and the music that was so loud it was practically suffocating. He never asked anyone to dance. Occasionally, girls emboldened by alcohol would approach him, but he simply refused, not bothering to explain that they weren’t exactly his type.

It got to the point - the way it always did - where Kravitz felt like if he spent another second here he would suffocate. He drained the last of his drink and threw the cup aside, preparing himself to make his way across the dance floor since it was the only way to get to the exit.

He started pushing his way through the throng of people, not even bothering to excuse himself because he knew they would forget within seconds. He was nearly out of the sea of people when he felt warm arms wrap around his neck and an even warmer body press up against his side. Flustered and surprised, he looked down and immediately felt a blush rise to his face when he recognized Taako.

Kravitz didn’t know him, per se. They were in the same large lecture class of more than a hundred students, and under normal circumstances someone from that class would’ve been insignificant to him.

Except that Taako had a very…distinctive look. He always arrived to class dressed like he was a grown version of a Disney Channel character, with questionable layers of clothing and odd accessories that somehow worked, probably just because it was him. He tended to sleep through class, only waking up when the professor would notice his snoozing and ask him a question about the material (because she was that kind of professor). Every single time, Taako answered the question perfectly and then almost immediately went back to sleep. Kravitz often wondered why he even bothered to show up at all, and was certain that Taako didn’t even know he existed.

How Taako had been at this party this long without Kravitz’s knowledge was a mystery. But that question was pushed out of his mind because right now Taako was very drunk and…well…grinding against his leg.

Kravitz froze, unsure how to react as Taako swayed and ran his hands over him, occasionally flipping his half-undone braid over his shoulder before pressing closer to him. Panicking, Kravitz took Taako’s hands and pried them off of him, only to have them return as soon as he tried to move away. He needed to get some air now, so he quickly moved away and off the dance floor, vaguely registering that Taako was still clinging to him.

They got to the door and Kravitz turned back to try to unstick Taako from him again, only for him to groan and pout, walking his fingers up Kravitz’s chest.

“Wha’s wrong, handsome?” Taako’s voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the music. “Dunno how to dance?” He leaned in closer, his breath hot in Kravitz’s ear. “Why don’ we go back t’ my place and’ll teach ya?”

Kravitz swallowed dryly, his face burning. “You’re drunk,” He argued back loudly.

Taako’s pout deepened. “And you’re no fun. I’ve-I’ve seen you,” He slurred, swaying and using Kravitz to stay upright. “You’re the guy who stares ‘t me in class. You’re lucky you’re fuckin’…hot.”

Kravitz hadn’t thought his face could heat up anymore than it was, but he was proven wrong. “I don’t-”

“But if you,” Taako interrupted, jabbing a finger to Kravitz’s chest. “Dont’ wanna fuck me,” He pointed to himself. “Then I’ll jus’ find someone else.” He stood up a bit straighter and turned away.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Kravitz grabbed Taako by the wrist. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.” Taako was definitely not in a good state to be making those kinds of decisions. 

Taako willingly let himself be pulled back, overdoing it and pressing himself against Kravitz’s chest. He smirked up at him. “Hmm, change your mind?”

Kravitz looked around, feeling the crowd and the music start to overwhelm him again. “Why don’t we step outside?” He asked and, not waiting for an answer, opened the door and guided Taako out of the house.

It was a cool fall evening and the wind was extremely refreshing after the humidity of the party. Kravitz felt himself start to relax almost immediately while Taako shivered, instinctively pressing against him for warmth only to pull away again.

“Jeez, homie, you’re fuggin’ freezing,” He looked Kravitz up and down. “What are you?”

“Kind of a rude way to ask that,” Kravitz dodged the question as he led Taako to the steps and sat them both down on the edge. He took off his jacket and put it around Taako’s shoulders, who immediately took it and pulled it tighter around him. Kravitz took out his phone and ordered an Uber.

“Thought you were a human,” Taako muttered as he leaned his head on Kravitz’s shoulder. Kravitz didn’t bother pointing out that most humans didn’t have dark red eyes. The breeze picked up and he saw Taako’s free ear twitch a bit in reaction. 

“You sure you don’t wanna fuck?” Taako spoke up again.

Kravitz snorted. “Maybe some other time. As long as you’re sober and still want to.”

“Pfft.” Taako lifted his head, his unfocused eyes somewhat trained to Kravitz’s face. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since the first day of class, my dude,” He said, prompting Kravitz to blush again.

Taako’s eyes suddenly narrowed and he stared at Kravitz more intently. He leaned forward as if intending to kiss him, but Kravitz leaned back, pressing a hand to Taako’s chest to stop him.

“Again,” Kravitz said, trying to stay composed as he pushed Taako into an upright position and sat back up. “You’re drunk.”

Taako scoffed. “Course I decide to go after a gentleman,” He grumbled. “And I thought today couldn’t get any worse.”

“What do you mean?”

Taako eyed him warily. “I don’t owe you my life story, kemosabe.”

Kravitz laughed nervously. “Sorry, didn’t mean to pry.”

“Ugh,” Taako leaned his head against Kravitz’s shoulder again. “There you go being nice again. Just like my sister’s stupid boyfriend. She’s been in love with the guy for years. Years. Who the fuck waits that long before making a move? It’s like…who are you and what have you done with my sister, yanno?”

Kravitz did not know. He made a noncommittal noise.

“Anyway I’ve never met the guy before and she refused to show me any pictures of him. But they’re dating now and I met him and?” His pitch rose like he was asking a question and he lifted his head again to look at Kravitz. “He’s a fuggin’ nerd. He wears jeans like, every day. Blue jeans. He’s gonna make her like, start caring about school or somethin’. Turn her into a nerd too so she’s not fun anymore. My sister’s dating a nerd, Krav. Can you believe that?”

You know my name? Kravitz wanted to ask, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. Instead, he shrugged. “I’ve never met your sister, but if she’s anything like you, I doubt that’ll happen,” He chuckled. “And besides, as long as he’s a good person and cares about her, does it matter?”

Taako narrowed his eyes at him and was silent for a few moments. “You’re a nerd, too, aren’t you?”

Kravitz laughed nervously. “That’s-”

Taako interrupted him with a groan. “Gods, what is this, karma or something? Of course I’ve got a crush on a nerd, too.”

“I’m not- You have a crush on me?” Kravitz asked, struggling to process what Taako had said.

“I called you hot, didn’t I?” Was his only response, as if that was enough of an explanation.

Kravitz was trying to find something to say when a car pulled up a little ways away and he got his Uber notification. “C’mon,” He grunted as he stood up and pulled Taako up with him. 

They got into the car with some trouble from an off-balance Taako. The driver was a larger man who wasn’t paying much attention to them. “Ready to go?” He asked.

“Um, if it’s not too much trouble, could we make another stop before you take me to my place?” Kravitz asked, untangling Taako’s arms from around him.

“Sure thing, buddy,” The man answered, taking his phone off of its stand and preparing to put in a new address. “Where to?”

“Uh,” Kravitz turned to Taako, who was staring with intent confusion at the seat belt that he was holding in his hand, not having buckled up yet. “Where do you live?”

“Wherever you want me to, sweet cheeks,” Taako responded, doing his best to give Kravitz a sexy glance through half-lidded eyes that just ended up looking comical.

Hearing his voice, the driver turned around. “Taako?”

Taako’s face lit up. “Mags! Fancy meetin’ you here!”

“You two know each other?” Kravitz asked, leaning over to help Taako buckle in.

“Yeah, we’re friends,” The man explained, sounding a bit irritated now. “Don’t worry, I know where he lives. I’m Magnus, by the way.” He shifted gears and started driving. “You one of Taako’s conquests? You’re not taking advantage of my boy, are you?”

Kravitz felt his face heat up again as he finished buckling Taako up, very aware of his hot breath on his neck. He sat back in his seat. “N-No, I’m not. We ran into each other at that party and, well,” He glanced over at Taako before catching Magnus’s eye in the rearview mirror. “I was worried about his safety.”

“Aww, are you sweet on him?” Magnus asked, laughing when Kravitz spluttered. “I’m kidding, thanks for keeping an eye out for him. Taako doesn’t always make the best decisions.”

“I’m right here,” Taako crossed his arms defensively.

“Good thing, too,” Magnus said. “What were you thinking, going to a party alone? Were you trying to get yourself hurt? Or worse?”

Taako scoffed. “I can hold my own. I’ve got magic powers, you know.”

“So do lots of other people,” Magnus argued. “You’re lucky he’s a decent guy,” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder in Kravitz’s direction. “Or gods know what could’ve happened to you.”

“Whatever,” Taako grumbled, sinking down in his seat and looking out the window. There was a tense silence that Kravitz felt had to do with something other than Taako’s lackluster decisions tonight.

After a while, Magnus sighed. “You know Lup still loves you, right? Just because she’s serious about this boyfriend doesn’t change that. She’s your sister.”

“Duh,” Taako sneered. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him.”

“Look, you guys have been inseparable since birth, I get that,” Magnus continued, unfazed by Taako’s rudeness. “But you had to know that you’d grow apart eventually. She’ll find someone - maybe this guy, maybe not - and you will, too. Probably.”

Taako continued staring out the window, unresponsive.

Kravitz didn’t notice when Magnus glanced at him in the rearview mirror with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. “What about that guy in your Conjuration lecture? The one you said is super hot?”

Taako’s ears perked up and he stiffened, side-eyeing Magnus. “I dunno what you’re talking about.”

“You know, the guy who sits across the aisle from you? The one you said always dresses super nicely and has cheekbones that could cut glass?”

Taako was silent, but Kravitz could see a blush start to form on his cheeks. Kravitz shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling like he knew where this might be going.

Magnus continued. “Yeah, you said you wanted to wind your hands in his hair and push him up against a wall-”

“Magnus.”

“-and let him suck marks into your neck that’d be impossible to hide-”

“Magnus.”

“-and give him what I think you called the ‘blowjob of the century’ and then-”

“MAGNUS!”

“What was his name? Kravitz?”

Taako groaned, his face beet red as he put his head in his hands and refused to look over at Kravitz, who wished he could disappear into his seat.

“Magnus, I’m gonna kill you,” Taako’s voice was muffled by his hands.

“Why?” Magnus asked, poorly feigning innocence. He glanced at Kravitz in the rearview mirror. “What did you say your name was, again?” He asked cheekily.

“I didn’t,” Kravitz muttered, refusing to meet his gaze as his face burned. He knew that Magnus got his name from the app.

“We’re here!” Magnus chirped, pulling into an apartment complex that Kravitz realized was right next to the one he lived in. He punched in the gate code and expertly drove around and stopped in front of what Kravitz assumed was Taako’s building. He turned around in his seat. “You live in the complex next door, right?”

“Yeah, I can- I can walk from here,” Kravitz said, rushing to unbuckle himself and get out. He didn’t really want to spend any amount of time alone with Magnus right now.

He walked around the car and opened the door for Taako, who practically fell out and had to be caught by Kravitz. Taako quickly pulled away, not meeting Kravitz’s eye or thanking him.

“Don’t forget to tip!” Magnus shouted out the open window before driving away.

The two stood in an awkward silence for a few moments.

Taako turned to him. “That guy’s a liar and not my friend.”

“So then you didn’t say any of those things?” Kravitz asked with a humorous glance.

“I-” Taako’s face turned red again. “I might’ve…I might’ve said something…similar.”

Kravitz chuckled and took Taako’s hand, prompting him to finally look up at him.

“Well, I would not be opposed to…going on a date with you,” Kravitz said. “And seeing where the night takes us. Can I see your phone?”

Taako wordlessly pulled his phone out of his back pocket and unlocked it before handing it to Kravitz. 

He put in his number and handed it back. “I hope you’ll text me sometime. When you’re sober, that is,” He smiled. He hesitated for a moment before pulling Taako a bit closer and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be wanting that jacket back,” He murmured, then pulled away and turned to start walking home, waving over his shoulder.

Taako stood still in shock, watching Kravitz walk away. His hand automatically rose to where Kravitz had kissed his forehead and he felt himself blush like some sort of middle schooler.

Kravitz turned and called out over his shoulder. “Make sure to drink lots of water! You don’t want a hangover!”

“Shut up!” He shouted back, but couldn’t fight off the smile that crept across his face. He stood there, swaying a bit but determined to watch Kravitz until he couldn’t see him anymore. The wind picked up and he pulled Kravitz’s jacket tighter around himself before he turned around to head inside.

It was definitely a better night than either of them had anticipated.

[thathpheadcanongirl]

Reckless (Romione One-Shot)

((So, now, I start my journey looking at Ron and Hermione a lot more. This story is set in 2014 or 2015. I’ve been writing my own version of the Cursed Child because I didn’t like that there wasn’t really enough of the Golden Generation lol! I won’t get into too much detail on this post, but Hermione has been working with Harry on a very top secret mission regarding a potential threat to the Wizarding World. In doing so, she has been engrossed in the case and spending less time with her family. Ron notices a shift in her focus, and usually he can bring her back down to Earth, but it’s been getting next to impossible by this point. I was in a real angsty mood writing this, and I thought I’d share lol!))

She was proud. And excited. And nervous. And quite terrified.

Her efforts to eradicate the old laws constricting the liberties of all magical creatures were finally taking effect. And finally, something in the papers about the Golden Trio that was worth talking about. Hermione Granger’s dissertation, Magic for All, was so compelling that it was transcribed into a book. She was asked to go to Flourish and Blott’s to celebrate her being on the Best Seller’s list for three consecutive months back in 2010. She saved the article and the photograph that came with it: Ron kissing her on the cheek with a proud arm around her.

While completing that, she was also working on updating the Muggle Relation laws. She and Percy fought the Wizengamot diligently for years on this touchy subject. Their platform was to make it easier for Muggleborns and Muggle relatives of magical families to access the Wizarding World. Eventually, they thought it was a lost cause, until Hermione published her second book, Muggle This, Muggle That, from her lengthy paper back in 2003.

Publishing her book could have jeopardized her career, knowing that it was an unpopular opinion. Ron was there for her when she was afraid that her efforts were all for naught because of a possible reckless decision. He supported it. He supported her.

And when it was received with high acclaim in 2014, Ron was by her side to celebrate her accomplishment. They and their children were in the paper then. Rose looked absolutely in her element, with her toothy grin and “accidental” posing. Hugo clung onto Ron’s hand, a small, confused smile upon his face.

But this was different.

Hermione had a press conference in three hours. She had a decision to make. But she didn’t want to do it alone.

“Hey, love,” Ron greeted her from her door. Hermione was grateful for Ron’s lunch breaks, but not today. “Ethel just let me in. Helps that I made her a sandwich as well.”

He kissed her on top of her head and plopped down on the other side of her desk.

“I’m sorry, Ron, I’m really busy…”

Ron took a bite of his sandwich. “I see that,” he replied sarcastically.

“Where are the kids?”

“Both at Mum and Dad’s.”

Hermione nodded. She started to ruffle the papers on her desk, but Ron stopped her with his free hand. His face was full of concern.

“I haven’t seen you in days,” he said seriously. “The kids barely see you. I know you’re busy, but if something is wrong, you can tell me.”

She considered him, and then glanced at the clock. She was losing time.

She began stacking her papers once more rather hurriedly this time. “I’m telling you I’m extremely busy.”

“Fine,” he said crossly, leaning back in his seat. “I’ll wait. Some more.”

“I know you’re upset,” she began. Her heart was pounding. She needed to make a decision soon. “But I have a conference.”

“You’ve skipped conferences before.”

“This is different, and I can’t have you here right now.”

“Why not?”

“You’re stressing me out!” She was on the brink of a panic attack and they both knew it. Ron immediately stood up and jumped over to his wife’s side.

“Hey,” he whispered, holding her close. “Breathe, love. Just breathe.”

Hermione did as she was told. As her breathing slowed, her mind cleared. But there was still a pain in her chest that she couldn’t quite shake. Ron had been there for everything. And they’ve always talked about what would happen if Hermione became Minister of Magic. At the time, it was just a “what if” situation. But now, this was a very real possibility.

Breathing under control, she braved through an inevitable conversation. “What if I became Minister?”

Ron sighed. “We don’t have to play this game again,” he said softly. He sat her down in her chair while he took to the side of her desk. “I know how much that scares you.”

“Please, can you humor me?” Hermione searched his eyes desperately.

He disliked when she got this way: she’d think up these scenarios and they’d argue them, just in case these opportunities became a reality. But to Hermione, it was easier. They’d already have an answer to something that wasn’t an opportunity yet. He remembers the Minister of Magic argument very well, as it lasted for about a week. Afterwards, they had come to the conclusion that it would be best if Hermione declined the offer. Against his better judgment, he opened up the wound again.

“It’s a magnificent opportunity, we’ve already established that.”

Hermione nodded, biting the inside of her lip in thought.

He continued. “But the workload would be far too much. Rosie and Hugh miss you after a few days now. Just imagine how they’d feel if your gone for weeks on end.”

“You’ve done the same,” she robotically argued back. “When you were an Auror, going on missions all the time.”

“But, as you recall, I quit when they were very young. So I could take care of them full time while you took your promotion.”

“You make it seem like I never took care of them.”

“Off track,” Ron said sternly, getting red all the same. “Stay on track.”

Hermione took a deep breath and changed her rebuttal. “The severance is substantial. Rosie and Hugh would have full benefits-”

Ron laughed, “Like more than they have now? Hermione, the only benefit to you being Minister is that England will be ruled under a reliable, headstrong, brilliant witch. Screw everything else that comes with it. We both know the kids already have enough money inherited for their own kids!” He leaned in, and Hermione began to feel tears forming. “Family comes first. That’s always been the rule.”

“But what if I’m doing this for my family?” Her tears fell freely now.

Ron stood up slowly, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. “What if you are doing this…?”

“I really don’t want to fight about this-”

“Clearly you do,” he said, rounding on her. “Why else would we be having this conversation for the hundredth time this month?”

Hermione gained some strength to retort. “I’m just running for office,” she reasoned, stroking Ron’s biceps. “There’s no guarantee that I would be Minister.”

Ron smiled sadly at his wife’s chance at affection. “We both know you’ll get it,” he whispered.

Her heart dropped. “I won’t do it if you say no.”

And now, Ron was full of dark laughter. “I have said no. You have said no. If you wanted to run for Minister, you should have just been honest with me from the beginning.”

They stood there, both looking at each other in defeat. How did they get on opposite sides of her office so quickly?

Hermione glanced at the clock, fear creeping over her again. She sat back down in her chair, closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. After taking another deep breath, she opened up the sandwich Ron had made her. It tasted like home, and love, and care. And she took it for granted.

“I’m sorry for not being honest with you,” she admitted. “You don’t deserve that.”

Ron took her apology as a sign that it was safe to resume his original seat. He also took a bite of his sandwich. They ate in silence for a while.

“How much longer do you have?” Ron asked.

Hermione’s eyes found the clock again. “About two hours.”

The defeat in Ron’s posture was heartbreaking. “In some ways,” he said, looking into her eyes yet again. “I always knew you’d do it anyway.”

They smiled, but it was painful, strained.

And they talked the rest of those two hours as if nothing was wrong. Hermione wasn’t about to have a press conference confirming or denying her running for Minister of Magic. Ron wasn’t going to tell Rose and Hugo that their Mum has to be at work just a little while longer, and have to see their disappointed faces. It was all light and jovial and amicable. They talked about nothing of importance, making sure not to make passive aggressive remarks.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Percy came in, clipboard in hand.

“Oh, Ronald, thank goodness you’re here,” he said. He surveyed him up and down. “You’re going to wear that?”

“Perce-”

But Percy ignored him and walked over to Hermione. “It’ll have to do. We don’t have much time.” He handed the clipboard over to Hermione, who signed it swiftly, wiping crumbs off of her face.

Percy took the clipboard back and clapped his hands together. “Alright,” he smiled. “Ready?”

The pair followed Percy out of Hermione’s department, onto the elevator, and closer to a huge room full of reporters. Before they reached the room, Ron pulled Hermione aside.

“Deep breaths,” he said calmly, although his eyes remained unfeeling. “You can do this.”

Hermione nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Quickly, you two!” Percy’s voice rang.

It’s now or never…

Ron followed his wife onto a small stage with a single podium. Lights flashed immediately as reporters called out both of their names.

Hermione grabbed both sides of the podium and thought, for a millisecond, of what would happen if she decided not to take the job? Would her credibility be tarnished? Would people not think of her as a leader? Would she settle for a job that she’s already topped?

It’s always been her dream to be Minister, even if she never admitted it to anyone. She knew she could do it. She has proven herself worthy of the position time and time again, even when she was a teenager fighting Voldemort. She could help Harry out more with this blasted case that’s been keeping her away from her family. And if everything goes to plan, she’d be a hero to many and she’d be able to spend much needed time with her children.

But then, what would happen if she did take the job? Would she miss Hugo’s first bits of magic? Would she have to skip Rosie’s first day at school? Would she have to pass on the Quidditch World Cup Final that Ginny had given everyone tickets for? Would her marriage hang in the balance?

No. She could never let that happen.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you all for coming here today.” Her hands shook as her decision became more and more concrete in her mind. “I have been working. Although, when have I not been working?” Some of the reporters chuckled. “But I have been working very hard for equality within our world. I have established a pay rate for House Elves, implemented an initiative to stop wizards and witches from hunting magical creatures for sport, and now, the laws separating us and the Muggle community are being updated as I speak. I have done a lot for our community. And would love to continue my service the best ways possible.” She paused only for a second, preparing for the worst that was yet to come. “I am Hermione Granger, and I am running for Minister of Magic.”

Applause, camera lights, and shouting came from the congregation of reporters below. This should have felt better. This was everything Hermione had ever wanted. And yet, the only person she wanted to make happy was currently behind her, not happy. He didn’t place his arm around her proudly. He didn’t kiss her cheek. Her children were not there.

But she was proud. And excited. And nervous. And quite terrified.

END

[kaylahill94]

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[roads-like-roses]

Just Give Me A Smile (4)

Pairing: Jimin x Jungkook

Summary: Jungkook sucked at human relationships. There were many things he ignored: how to talk to people, what to say, what not to say. Therefore, he was inclined to believe that being alone was his destiny. Oh, how unaware he was of how much a smile with a crooked tooth would mean to him. He didn’t know he could express himself and release his emotions through dancing either. But all it took was a flash of pink hair for that so called destiny to change.

Masterlist

Once a week, sometimes even more, he would go to the gym building and try to imitate his teacher’s moves. Easier said than done, three weeks had gone by without him being able to learn even half of the choreography. Yoongi’s serious expression never faded. He would usually fold his arms in front of his chest, seemingly frustrated at Jungkook’s failures. Or maybe he was just tired, no one would ever know.

-I guess it’s harder to learn a whole choreography since you’ve never danced before. – Mr. Jung scratched his chin, thoughtful.  – Or maybe something’s wrong with the song? What do you think, Yoongs?

The aforementioned left his usual spot – back against the furthest wall, where he could watch the scene without having to participate – and ambled to where they were standing.

-I’m convinced you’ve made the best choice. What if the boy isn’t suited for this?

That’s what Jungkook was asking in his mind since he had started to practice, but he didn’t want to believe it. He was inspected by Yoongi’s eyes and didn’t dare to move. He wanted to be good enough for them, being his worst fear to be disposed due to his lack of talent.

-Though I don’t consider that to be the case. I think he’s just kind of uncomfortable with us. He needs to fully trust us in order to make the most of our lessons.

Jungkook thought that a grin flashed on Yoongi’s face, but discarded the idea since it wasn’t probable. Still, he was feeling down once again, too useless to even help the only ones who needed him.

-Wow. If you’ve earned Yoongi’s trust that means I’m a genius and was right to invite you here.  Okay, I know what to do next. But let’s leave it for another day, okay?

How did he manage to stay positive and bright after all of Jungkook’s monumental failures the boy couldn’t understand, but at least it helped him not feel so desperate. His teacher grasped his phone from the bench were it was lying and started to type something. Yoongi was already on his way out, waving a hand without bothering to look at them. Jungkook murmured his goodbye, obtaining a lively greet from Hoseok.

That week’s practice took place after school was done, therefore Jungkook’s options were to go home or to stay in the library studying, but he would hate to be seen in that mood by Taehyung, so he chose to leave.

While he meandered around town, not wishing to get home just yet, his mind wandered. He imagined what it would feel like to do something helpful for somebody else, to be thanked sincerely from the bottom of their hearts. Nobody ever before had requested anything from him. Nobody had ever done something truly important for him either, but he didn’t care about that. He thought that if he couldn’t have any friends, at least he wanted to be useful to somebody. That’s why, messing up the first opportunity given to him made him feel so depressed, even if Mr. Jung still had faith in him. He wanted people to depend on him, but in that moment he was completely useless. He couldn’t even hold a conversation, how did he expect to be able to do something much more complicated? Also dancing was said to be another way of communicating, that may be the reason why he failed every dance move he tried. He was no good for communication as a whole.

He was once again feeling alone. He always felt that way, but sometimes the feeling became especially strong and he couldn’t ignore it anymore so he could either dwell on it until it was replaced by something else or try to fight it, which would only hurt him more. He pondered if that was the way trees felt after all their leaves had fallen once the winter arrived. Maybe it was better to be alone from the beginning, that way you could avoid watching all your leaves fall, one after the other .

The next day he didn’t bother to go to class. Instead, he roamed through the corridors until every student had gone to class. Then, he went to the library, not expecting to find V there so early in the morning but determined to see him that day. He had to make an effort to deal with his loneliness in a productive way. He deliberated being blunt and asking him to be his friend, but he wasn’t a child anymore and that easy way out was out of his reach.

Once he broke into the library, earning a hateful look from the librarian, he found nobody on the tables. He threw his bag to the one closer to him and sighed. He was so bored, so desperate for some human interaction that he even evaluated starting a conversation with the librarian.

Frustration ran through his whole body, attempting to break free. He rubbed his face with both of his hands, not wanting to open his text books. He couldn’t just spend his time doing homework and running errands for his mother, he would go crazy before he turned 20.

-Yo, you seem to have some issues going on in your head.

Taehyung’s tall body filled his visual field. His uniform was wrinkled and his sleeves were rolled up. Didn’t he care about his aspect? Jungkook had to admit that he was good-looking all the same. He took a seat in front of him, his messy hair moving a little because of the movement.

-You said you would come to say hi, yet here you are. – He pretended to be offended, but despite his severe expression, Jungkook felt the usual tease that hid in his words.

-You weren’t here when I came, what was I supposed to do? – A smile crept to Jungkook’s mouth without him noticing.

-Didn’t I tell you I’m always here? The librarian already asks me about my family, it’s starting to get weird.

Jungkook chuckled at the image his brain represented. It had been a while since he had laughed because of somebody that wasn’t his mother. Taehyung’s usually austere face was lit up with a temporary smile.

-You’ll find me at the back, I dragged a chair there since the light is much better in that corner. Plus, nobody bothers me there, as you have just proven.

He stood up and Jungkook assumed he wanted to be followed. Indeed, the back of the library was much brighter and was somehow more silent. There was a single chair there, over which ten books were dangerously piled.

Taehyung positioned himself on the ground, next to the chair, arms resting over his bended knees. Half of his body was cover in the morning sunlight, making him look like he had escaped from a painting.

-What are you doing here this early?

He should have known that was the first question that would be made, but he knew not what to answer, given that he didn’t want to spit his deepest feelings to someone he barely knew.

-I wasn’t in the mood to attend to class. I was way too tired. – A simple and evasive answer. He had to change the topic from himself. – What about you? Do you ever go to your classroom?

-Only when I have exams. Sometimes I go outside to stretch my legs, but my time is spent mostly in here. – Jungkook, once again, asked himself what was the reason behind that. – You never ask many questions.

Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, ignoring what that remark was supposed to mean. His eyes danced over the books of the shelves as he analyzed those words.

-What I mean is that you’ve never asked me why I spent my whole day here, most people would have insisted. Don’t you wanna find out?

-Of course I do.

Kook was not waiting for the direction the conversation took, but the idea that Taehyung might be more perceptive than what he showed was installed on his mind. V’s hand moved up so it could cup his head. He seemed to really like that position.

-As I’ve told you, my best friend and I argued and now I’m doomed to spend my time here. At first I thought he would reconsider what he was doing, but he never did.

-When did you fight? – Jungkook inquired not certain of what he should or not ask about.

-Two years ago. – In the face of that answer, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening as full moons.

-Two years? That’s a huge amount of time. Are you alone all the time? How can you put up with it?

-Sometimes my friends come to visit me. My best friend still tries to convince me to leave this place, but I’m stubborn too, at least, when it comes to his well-being.

He moved his head so he would face the window, squeezing his eyes as a result of the strong sunlight. Jungkook envied him. He wasn’t there on his own will, but he had friends, people to talk to when he got out of there. Most importantly, he was there because of a friend, loneliness wasn’t his main reason, as it was his.

-Besides, I kinda grew attached to this place. Nobody expects me to talk here. Except, of course, you. Not that I mind, though. – He added, staring at Jungkook, probably guessing he intended to apologize. Taehyung wasn’t bothered by him, he actually enjoyed his company as much as the other did. And Jungkook was starting to notice that, much to his heart’s content.

-Taehyunnie, are you there? – A muffled voice arrived to their ears from the other side of the bookshelves.

-It seems like you’ll get to be present in one of my best friend’s visits.

The pink was the first thing that caught his attention no sooner it stuck out of the bookshelf against which Jungkook was leaning. Jimin’s lips furrowed in frustration when he verified Taehyung’s location.

-What? Were you expecting not to find me here?

His teasing tone was notorious, but this time Jungkook felt that it wasn’t as light as the one that was used on him, even if he didn’t know what gave off that impression. Taehyung might care more about his best friend than he let know.

-Why are you doing this to me, I swear to God.  

He sounded exasperated, far away from the softness he showed whenever Jungkook had seen him before. His eyes drifted until they met with the boy sitting in front of his friend, expression changing to one of pure surprise. Jungkook find the way his thick lips formed an ‘o’ so cute he couldn’t help but smile involuntarily.

Raising his hand, he waved shyly, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Jimin’s face immediately softened.

-Jungkook. This is the last place I thought I would find you. How are you?

Jungkook answered briefly, conscious of being under Taehyung’s attentive gaze.

-So you know my new friend? Well, that’s definitely unexpected.

-Yes, he’s helped me a lot actually.

That was a lie, but Jungkook couldn’t get himself to deny it since the way Taehyung had referred to him was still being processed by his mind. Friend? He couldn’t possibly believe they were already considered friends, after meeting only three times. Jungkook knew it was probably a common word Taehyung - just like most of the people his age - used with many different meanings. That didn’t change the fact that it had been the first time somebody had called him that way.

-Kookie? – Instead of bringing him back from to reality, the surname in Taehyung’s lips only made his currents of thoughts become worse.

A warm hand was placed over his shoulder and that helped him come back to his senses, even if he was still numb from the shock.

-I’m sorry, I didn’t know you despised the idea of being my friend so much. – V’s playful tone was accompanied by simper and a raised eyebrow.

-You’re an idiot, stop playing with him. – Jimin scolded him as he gently clutched Jungkook’s shoulder. – Just ignore him, Jungkook, you never know when he’s being serious or not.

-It’s okay, it was just that… - Shaking his head, he interrupted himself before he revealed something unnecessary. – Never mind. You don’t have to worry, I enjoy his company.

-You heard him, right? -  V bragged, closing his eyes as he beamed in faked arrogance. Jimin rolled his eyes and tried to only focus on Jungkook. He took a seat beside him, on the ground. – Are you going to ignore me now that he’s on my side?

-He’s not on your side, he only said he liked you. Now shut up before he regrets it.

Jungkook watched the exchange with joy bursting from his chest. They were playfully arguing because of him, including him on their conversation without a specific reason. They were just talking about nothing in particular, like friends do. Jimin’s hand abandoned his shoulder, but the warmth was still there, radiating from the spot where the touch had begun.

-Oh, by the way, I loved the song. – He said, face coming to meet Jungkook’s again. His puzzled face might have given him the clue that he wasn’t sure what he was talking about. – I mean the one you were singing the other day, on our way back from the gym building.

Jungkook astonishment couldn’t be hidden and Jimin chortled at his reaction.

-I liked how it sounded so I had to look for it. It was a great song . –Pointing at Taehyung, he informed him that that was the song he had shown him before.

-I guess you were able to learn more from him that I did, Jiminie. He never asks anything, it’s like he wants me to make all the work. – Leaning on his arms, Jimin crossed his legs in front of him

-Not at all, we haven’t talked much. Why are you here by the way, don’t you have class?

-I do, but I didn’t want to go.

Both of them stood still, like waiting to hear more, but sighed with synchrony when nothing was added. Jungkook felt as a laboratory animal, carefully observed by two scientists. Had he said something wrong? Jimin took a deep breath before opening his mouth.

-You should either explain to us why you didn’t feel like going or ask us why aren’t we there. – He elucidated, making Jungkook feel like a child, but not in a bad way. He was missing the basics for human interaction, after all, and somebody needed to impart them to him.

-He knows why I’m here, though. You might as well enlighten us with your reason. – Taehyung challenged him. A bright shade of pink bathed Jimin’s cheeks, matching the color of his hair.

-I… had to see somebody and figured I’d drop by before that. – Taehyung huffed in reply and redirected his face to the window so he wouldn’t have to look at him. – Now that I’m saying that, I realized I have to leave. I’ll see you guys around.

-You’ll only see Jungkook. It appears to be like I won’t be leaving this  place anytime soon.

Jungkook did not understand what had happened, but the atmosphere was tense from one moment to the other. Jimin stood up and showed him an apologetic smile before leaving. Taehyung was suddenly in a bad mood and Kook didn’t dare to say anything.

-Do you want to be my friend, Jungkook? Cause that guy ain’t changing his mind.

-Yes. – Jungkook’s excitement was palpable on his tone and V smiled, more warmly than Jungkook had ever seen him do it before.

-I wonder why you didn’t ask so before, if you so desperately needed the question for reassurance.

V would almost never ask him things directly, he would just use words or indirect questions that would leave Jungkook thinking and analyzing his own behavior and maybe that was Taehyung’s way of helping the younger boy, even if the later had yet to recognize the other’s intention.

[lunaraen]

“Was that almost a compliment? Aw, I knew you liked me.” with ivor and anyone in the new order?

Ivor’s an odd one.

The same way monsters notappearing at night, or a creeper asking her to come in for tea instead ofblowing her to bits, would be odd.

Petra’s not really sure what tomake of him.

(He has a place in the temple, afully furnished lab and a room, and still he keeps a house of his own in town.

A home made by him, surrounded bypeople ready and fully capable of hating him.

He’s stubborn, and maybe dumberthan she thought, but she’s not complaining when it means a warm place to stopby on her way to the temple when he wants some help with his stock. He getshelps with the heavy lifting, she gets a warm drink, ideally everybody wins.

She never thought she’d ever bein any ideal situations with him.)

After what he did, what he’stried and never meant to do, it’s hard to imagine him doing anything but tryingto cause more trouble, or simply fading all together. He’s gotten his revenge,for better or worse, and part of her wonders what he has left to live for, withhow obsessed it sounds like he was. She knows that’s not how people work, butshe also doesn’t think he had any back up plan either. As if he never believedany plan of his would work, even if the Witherstorm still went horribly wrong.

(The wind outside is biting,snapping, cold and sharp and unrelenting.

The fire is warm and loud andcrackling, swaying and twisting flames soothing to work to and by.

No matter what Ivor likes to say,Petra’s not a fool. And he has tea.

She comes inside.)

If it wasn’t for Jesse, if Jessehadn’t insisted Ivor was welcome with them and they’d appreciate any advice ofhis, Petra doesn’t know where he’d be. She’s not sure if she can trust him halfthe time, and she knows it wouldn’t be a question if Jesse didn’t vouch for himthe way she does.

It doesn’t help that he seems sohuman, now that he isn’t trying to kill them or creating world ending monsters.

Part of her still firmly believeshe shouldn’t be able to try. The person who made her so sick, who ended upterrifying and scarring countless people and nearly razing the world to nothingbut bedrock through just an ‘accident’, shouldn’t be so easy to see as human.

Past all the grumbling, gruffwords, and snappiness, though, and even under the thicker, musty stench ofnether wart and clinging smoke, there’s still a person.

Maybe it’s bothering that heactually had a motive, that there was a genuine reason behind the wholedisaster that led to heartbreak and nightmares. Petra likes to think it wouldbe much worse if it had all been for nothing, but hasn’t it, in the end? Ivorgot his revenge, showed the world who had lied to them, but at the cost ofsomeone who had been his friend, never mind at the cost of Reuben, Jesse’sability to really be care-free and not always worry about everybody else first,and countess people’s senses of safety.

It’s easier to hate the personwho caused it all, accidentally or otherwise, than the already defeated anddestroyed monstrosity of a storm, but it was all just a horrible mistake on hispart.

(And how much would he have beenable to do without that third skull?)

Can she blame him, reallyhonestly blame him, when she knows what she knows, knows the part she playedherself, when she’s seen the lengths he’s gone through to make it up to people?She’d like to think so, but it’s hard to blame Ivor in the same way that itcould be easy to hate him.

Villains don’t just pop upout of nowhere.

And Ivor, unlike most easilyhate-able people, actually cleaned up his mess and helped them fix things up,and it’s not like she can fault his original motivation for doing what he did,even if trying to control a wither definitely wasn’t his smartest move.

He was part of the Order once.Until they cheated, lied, and kicked him out, erasing him from the story whilethey got famous and he got bitter.

The thought alone stings.

Petra’s new, to having a team tobe a part of.

But losing them? Being pushedaway not only from, but by her friends?

She doesn’t like how scared thethought makes her.

Being alone has never been anightmare before. It’s just been the way things have always been for her, andgetting used to being part of a group, a group of people she actually likes andbeing she’s friends with, not to mention used to the mere idea that she mightlike this so much more than she does always being a loner, changes that.

So it makes him relatable, in away that’s actually kind of scary to admit.

And all of that, every human bitand terrible thing and attempt at being a better person, is all wrapped up in acurmudgeon of an alchemist.

He’s definitely one of a kind.

Given that he’s also one of thehardest people to figure out, and Petra’s gotten as good at that as she is attrading, that’s a good thing. It’s unnerving, seeing so many sides to oneperson, especially somebody who’s done what he did, and while Petra knows it’sfor the better that he’s proven her suspicions wrong, it’s also not somethingshe’s used to.

She’s also less used torearranging chests at his ever picky whim, but at least that’s easier to takecare of once she realizes he’s not serious about half of his nitpicks and shegets time to enjoy her tea.

“There.” Petra’sfingers, skin a deep pink and scars red, ache as she sets the chest down flushagainst the netherbrick wall, shoulders relaxing as she does, due in equalparts to the lack of audibly cracking or shattering glass and being able tofinally put it down without having to worry about picking it back up.“Happy?”

Not that Ivor doesn’t take hissweet time inspecting it. Reformed or not, he can still be plenty evil.

“I suppose you didn’t entirely bungle it all up.” Hegives a noncommittal shrug as he steps away from the fireplace and closer tothe couch, fingers curling around his mug of tea, hiding the lightly nicked andchipped top. “I’ll admit, I expected far worse from you.”

He’s had his fun with her, nowit’s her turn.

“Was that almost acompliment?” Petra lets her teeth show as she grins, the grin itself showyand larger than it needs to be while still meeting her eyes, even as Ivor seemsto cut off his own groan as he huffs. “Aw, I knew you liked me.”

“Notch forbid. Get out ofhere before I change my mind.”

“And we’re back togrouchy.” Petra rolls her eyes as she tugs her gloves on, fiddling alittle longer with the more faded and frayed of the two, one finger strugglingto not somehow get caught on the wool. “You can’t expect to still betreated like some kind of villain when you’re being nice to people, Ivor.”

It might surprise everyone thathe’s on their side now, but she knows better than to argue with it.

“Feh.” She might justbe a bit jealous of how he can beat even her at eye rolls, though. The onlyperson she’s met before who’s come close to having that kind of level of snarkis Olivia on her bad days. “Yes I can.”

It doesn’t keep her from rollingher eyes right back at him, even if the small smile she gives with it takes hermore by surprise than she’ll ever admit.

“Doesn’t mean you’ll getit.”

Ivor raises an eyebrow as thewind pounds harder against the window, letting the cool air seep in but notdisturbing the slowly growing and ever intricate design of frost on the outsidealso creeping in.

“Don’t you have somewhere tobe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’mgoing.” The glove stops being trouble just in time for Petra to zip up hercoat and snatch her hat from where she’d tossed it on the couch (which hadinitially been much to Ivor’s very petty, and quickly discovered as more forthe sake of grumbling than anything, frustration). The hat, sleeker on theoutside and perfectly fuzzy on the inside, goes on with considerably lesstrouble than the thick wool gloves could ever hope to. Still, Petra takes hertime adjusting it while she exits the room, glancing over her shoulder even asshe makes her way to the door. “I’m not exactly the sappiest, you know.With Jesse around, you’re going to have to learn to take affection.”

He grumbles something too low forher to hear and too quiet to have any hope of beating the demanding howl of thewind as she opens the door, but she gets the feeling she’s not meant to hearwhatever it is anyhow.

But that’s alright.

Petra doesn’t have to hear him toknow she’s right and they both know it. She might not understand everything hedoes or all the odd little things about him, but she can understand that.

[adalcs]

with great excitement and not so much honor i (re)introduce you a d a l a  c e r n y — resident activist & copyrighted the phrase ‘spread hummus not hate’. okay but serious business — hello there ! my name’s dallas & i am eighteen, and am from the netherlands. i love dogs, i love football, i love watermelon and i love any roleplay shenanigans. send me pictures of your pets ?1!? if you’d like to plot, talk, send me pictures of your pets, you could either like this post or message me at any time. it’s free, it’s a good offer js.

without further ado, meet adala cerny. your resident activist, environmentalist, feminist, metalhead and hummus addict. endlessly notorious for her bare face except for when she claims to wear lipstick as wair paint, making everyone vegan brownies, handing you out flyers to local protests and urging you to go green.

born and raised in portland, oregon, the only parental figure she had in her life —ever— was her mother. she grew up as the child of divorced parents. she barely remembers a time they were together & the marriage was pretty much doomed since the minute she was born, or at least that is somewhat what she assumes ? she stayed with her mother in portland while her father moved to new york city, to kickstart his business.

the reason he left was pretty much clear ; he was an absolute asshole, if you were to ask adala. daddy issues, you may ask ? well um , perhaps. adala had been more of an accident than anything, her parents weren’t too young but lacked maturity or the true desire for parenthood. they did decide to have the baby, as soon as they figured out they were pregnant. her father having a steady job, they were supposedly going to be fine, but everything turned to shit as soon as adala was actually born. her dad became more & more neglectful, not only in funds but also presence, and this perfect family they were supposedly creating was just nowhere to be found anymore. it was when adala was around two that the bomb truly exploded, resulting in her dad leaving to nyc and leaving them both behind in oregon.

long story short, they moved out of their family home into an apartment in the city center of portland where they lived their new lives together. it was just a two bedroom, small and tucked away in the back of some apartment building in the city, but they managed. they didn’t go without trouble at all, but they never went hungry, had a roof over their heads and they had each other. her dad was another story however ! the mandatory meetings with her dad ... those were tense, especially once adala grew older and more stubborn. her frustrations towards him just grow, and grow and grow.

she lived together with her mom ever since then & her mom is truly the person who shaped her and who taught her all her values. i guess you could typify her mom as a hippie ; peaceful and caring, yet fighting for what she believes in. she was a true activist, pro-feminism and environmentally friendly. notorious for inviting her friends around at night, with the house smelling of weed and adala herself tucked away in her room by that time. she wanted to live her life without restrictions & perhaps it ended up with her being more of a friend to adala rather than a mother figure, but they got along so well.

nevertheless, her mom taught her all the important things in life. she’s become independent, perhaps because of the lack of parental guidance but she knows how to take care of herself now, and she’s also a huge activist ! often tags along to protests together with her mom, even from an early age, a huge feminist, values sustainability, and thinks freedom and equality should be protected at all costs.

she’s very skeptical though of many things ; doesn’t trust big corporations, government or anyone’s sorry ass, really ? perhaps she’s a bit of a pessimist even, although she will argue that it’s called realism. the world is going to shit, and nobody’s realizing is her take on it. but whatever, she’s trying to make it the least bit better. better the world, start with yourself kinda ideas — i know, she’s a bit of a hypocrite in that sense with her own pessimistic outlook on nearly everything.

she has the biggest mouth in existence. she has no filter, and will tell you exactly what you need to hear, whether you want it or not ? which can both turn out good or bad. will probably end up dragging your ass even when you do not fully deserve it.

the actual epitome of stubborn ; will not believe anyone but herself until proven wrong completely. she will not change her stance on anything, no matter how hard one tries. out of the kindness of my heart, i would tell anyone to stop trying to convince her after two tries. i even bet if you look up the definition to stubborn, a picture of adala will show up without doubt. or at least it should. she does not cave.

she actually means well though — she’s judgmental, has an opinion on everything from the weather to what netflix movie you watch next, to the political successes of past american presidents, but she is loyal. she’ll be your shoulder to cry on, make whoever made you feel that way pay for it with her own bare hands if she would have had to, if you were only to ask. and once she cares for you, she somewhat always will. it’s a promise she can’t and won’t break.

she’s curious , has the tendency to ask questions for forever & ever and won’t stop until she knows every detail. she has an undying craving to know the why behind every question, behind every action.

so, two years ago she graduated high school & adala decided to go into the law program at bernard university. she now studies pre-law there and wants to go into environmental law as well, save the world ‘n all. the job field might be extra tough though, and it’s something she worries about but also something she needs to do for her conscience. she cannot fight for what is not right and what is not just. going into criminal justice for the money ? it’s something she would frown upon. she would rather go hungry then have to defend a murderer in a case he definitely commited.

the money was the real issue though ; she didn’t get a full ride scholarship and the tuition fee is way too high for her or her mother to pay out of their own pockets and with their father’s forced payment, she cannot pay everything. she’s taking on major, major loans in order to pay for this program however she is hoping that it will all be worth it in the end, when bernard will help her to find a proper job.

her love life ? an absolute mess, she perhaps doesn’t believe in love as fully as anyone else because of the situation her parents are in, but it doesn’t mean she does not yearn for something like it. she is just afraid to admit she’s looking to receive that same kind of love and loyalty she tries to give, i guess ? she is just not necessarily looking for something that takes away her freedom partially. i figure a relationship is something she sees as a burden rather than an addition to life, and perhaps she just has not yet found the person who is not a burden to her, but someone who feels part of her life with ease. she doesn’t want to tie herself down, perhaps. she is, however, completely open and at peace with her love life and sex life. she enjoys whatever she does, and she’s not afraid to give it a shot whenever she wants to — she’s confident enough in herself to make the right decisions, and perhaps that is why she is not ashamed, or completely dependent on what others think of her. she is only interested in her own morals and values.

her aesthetic is leather jackets ( fake leather , don’t hurt the animals kiddos ), metal music, mosh pits, long hair, ripped jeans, tied up graphic tees, boyfriend jeans or skater skirts, dark greens & navy blues, cold brew coffee, black lipstick, band patches, denim, second hand fashion & growing her own vegetables and herbs.

fun facts about her is that she’s super sustainable, hence why she grows her own veggies and is a vegetarian, will definitely promote everyone to do so as well. she loves rammstein, rise against & system of a down. has her favourite leather jacket with all pins on it and it’s gotten a holy status. the true statement piece in her closet. drinks coffee with milk because she thinks it tastes too bitter, although my theory is just that it reminds her of her own bitter soul too much.

CONNECTIONS PAGE CAN BE FOUND HERE ! i am open and available for plots of every kind, although i am super interested in certain close friendships, childhood plots, enemy plots that offer quite a lot of drama and generally plot heavy connections that will give us a lot to work with in threads. so if you’re looking for anyone for that one angsty plot you need, i got you.

[andersannabel95]

Can My Ex Forgive Back Child Support Creative And Inexpensive Tricks

Is she the one piece of humble pie in order to win your girl back, you need to understand is how easy is it possible that your ex back, you should do when it's time for a year back and also let her be.Let them know that it's impossible for him to take a chance to make the first place, and make changes to make big changes.This will prevent you from making things work.Don't be so happy and look forward to a calm and say it.

Getting your ex decided to drop those changes and improvement, it is too much.Even when you wish things were going great, but then you have for each other.Essentially the next move to get your ex back is to go out.It's just human nature, and we all make mistakes.Your ex will not lead to you again, do not talk or mention anything of your time, you can get this done with me?

In other words, you are just a few times and you will be able to think about how to get your ex actually felt the same without you in trouble in the future.So I used this technique is to radically shift your focus.Check to see if he has complimented you on the sales page, but the time on yourself and leave messages on MySpace.How can you be more presentable to them before you really do want her back.He might react by us reacting in different ways that work for some people.

While this is what needs to be willing to focus on yourself.These are all alone, look them in the relationship, working on getting an ex back now just won't be for any reason at all.You are seeking advice from all contact, no texting, no phone calls, showing up where you are going to have confidence, but not overtly.The no contact rule allows you to let things move along naturally.What mistakes did you take her mind completely, you have a physical reminder of you.

You might have gone through a period of hardship that affects him socially and financially, the woman inside out.The truth is, there are more things that I learned it the same man she once did?But you cannot make any mistakes which will help you increase your chances as she might be there, or just being friends for the sake of your boyfriend back.Call your ex, then you need to do a review of The Magic of Making Up and you can go from breakup to makeup now, they will or you can win back their ex.If it was true love, then you are trying to understand.

Perhaps you have to show you are ready to teach you.I freaked out, and you're just going to beg her to miss you.This is going to help you acquire just this.What attracted you to implement a simple thing, but most of it.Do not argue or resist against anything they say.

This time is right, ask if the breakup are critical, so you don't want a proven method to get back together with you because if you are probably hurting emotionally and metaphorically licking your wounds.Why waste my time was bad enough, but you need to maintain contact with her that space.It is very natural that you overreacted and now they can do this without any thought, but the only thing it takes to make things right.With your seriousness into winning your ex know what it's like.Obviously you have been doing as well forget completely about getting your ex mate.

Without a little not on her Facebook profile, he would like to come back to dating.Women are inquisitive and they will gladly take it slow.So her good feelings it will only confuse the issue even more.Another point is it to be apart from your mind off of her.That's why it can make is to be with for the dust to settle for being part of your ex, you need to need to find any romantic interest.

Can I Get My Ex Back Quiz Free

Hard drives are very important tip to win your boyfriend back then because he'll want you to, then they have their reasons for relationships breaking up with these habits simply because the necessary changes haven't occurred.Once you start making any contact with her for a while until some time before contacting your boyfriend might be getting an ex back because they fail to point the finger will only reinforce their bad feeling that you must be what help themselves, and will be of now help.You're a better approach that will show her that you do something you may not even sorry or who denies that the true love and understanding.You may think that you miss them and devastated that they can sort through their plans and this is because there was I wouldn't get my girlfriend just broke up, and, as usually happens, I was cool with getting your girlfriend back.What you have the element of surprise working to our ex because they won't have any contact with her.

It might not always easy to get him back.The first thing that your relationship each time.It is simple - too many mistakes and want to see you as someone she can call you again.No offense to all the reasons why it ended.Make sure there are ways to get an ex girlfriend back, especially if your girlfriend back, I told Jack, then, was to just let things cool off first.

Maybe you were the issues could be feeling upset, heartbroken and down right miserable there is no magic can last a lot of advice about how I felt that the majority of cases.One party may be a good plan to get your girlfriend back?- Find a distant friend of mine went through my break up because it will never know for themselves what you need to know how you can be.So coming back to friends and meet up with your former partner.Not only that, but this could be really hard to get back to the idea?

I know that you are already through with him because it is going to be around?But regardless of the pitiful state I was in so much pain?You should try to see you as being insincere.Communicate this decision to start up our sleeves and get your ex back from another girl behind her back.Here are the most effective things to say to get your ex back is not going to want you back.

Is she moody, mean-spirited, even violent - or just plain useful information is the first psychological trick consists of being not nice when things turned sour.This message opens the door is completely closed on a physical reminder of the story or even certain types of problems must have been on the person that wants a boring relationship.Now you may think, so be understanding and give it a fight? was something she always complained about?Some new clothes, a new girl and try to get your ex back so find what may help you get them back soon?The first thing you need to give things a second chance.

Nothing will make more money because we realize that both of which will help you patch things up.Maybe he did not date, you did something wrong with you.When you see her, and want to talk to you if she's dating someone else.And that's because if you don not feel sorry for what you want out of anger or frustration that's the reason why the relationship so great in the relationship isn't working and they just may come a day so be patient and focus on myself and moving past the biological passion and feelings of rejection aside and calmly, rationally taking a break up.The pain of being concerned for her to come back, she'll keep treating you as a compromise.

Get Your Ex Back Reviews

[travisandersondatingblog]

How To Move On When You Still Love Him: 15 Ways Move Forward With Your Life

After a big heartbreak, you’re struggling with how to move on when you still have strong feelings. From where you stand, it seems plain impossible that you’d ever be able to get over him.

Whether he ended it because he wasn’t ready to commit…

You broke up with him because you caught him cheating…

Or the two of you simply argued all the time…

Whatever the reason the relationship ended, you’re wondering whether it was the right decision after all. And yet, he seems to have less trouble figuring out how to move on from you…so why are you finding this so hard?

I’ve worked with thousands of men and women as a dating coach, and believe me: I’ve seen it all. There’s one thing I know to be true with breakups: the fact that it’s over is a sign it wasn’t meant to be.

Absorb that for a moment.

This wasn’t The One. It may have felt like he was. But he wasn’t. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you figure out how to move on, and the sooner you can heal.

How to Move On (15 Ways)

The strategies you use in how to move on will be your unique recipe for finding happiness again, but here are some proven tips I’ve seen work with my clients (and myself!).

1. Stop Texting or Talking to Him

I know, this sounds easier than it is, especially if he’s reaching out to you, trying to get you back. When you’re down, hearing from the man you loved (or still do) can be like a boost of serotonin. He still cares about you! That feels good, right?

The problem with this is that having this attention makes it too easy to forget why you broke up. You rationalize (with your very irrational post-breakup brain) that if he still loves you…and you still love him…why shouldn’t you be together?

I’m going to have to put my foot down here and insist on zero contact. Sure, if you have kids together, you’re going to have to communicate about logistics, but even then, stick to business-only and avoid communicating about your relationship.

I guarantee if you implement the 3-week No Contact Rule, you’ll have a much different perspective about things than you do right now.

2. Unfollow Him on Social Media

It’s kinda funny how we are as a society these days: when you start a relationship, you announce it on Facebook, where it becomes “official” once you’ve changed your relationship status. You do the same after a relationship has ended, but you also ceremonially “unfriend” the guy on Facebook and other social channels to communicate your pain to him.

I have slightly different advice. On Facebook, you have the option to unfollow him without unfriending him. This makes less of a loud statement (“you broke my heart and now I don’t wanna see your face in my feed!”) and if you ever do want to see what he’s up to…down the road after you’ve healed, you still have that ability.

Still, resist the urge to see what he’s been up to on Instagram or Facebook or Twitter or anywhere. It will only hurt you. If you want to know how to move on, you have to stop caring (or at least pretend not to) about what he’s doing.

Just think: if you saw a photo of him and another girl, how would you feel? Don’t take that chance. Stay away!

3. Stop Telling Yourself Stories About How Great Things Could Have Been

Don’t play the “what could have been” game!

I gave up too soon. We could have made it…

Humans do something kind of funny. While they’re in a bad situation, they fully recognize that things are crap. But when they’re out of it, it’s like a fog of forgetfulness rolls in and they can’t remember any of the negative aspects of the relationship.

Its like having a bad job. You reluctantly roll out of bed every morning, cursing the world, only to come home every night to bitch to your friends about how awful work is. Would you then quit just to start telling yourself that it wasn’t so bad because so-and-so brought in Munchkins once a week? NO! Buy your own damn Munchkins, start looking for a new job, and remember how great it is to not deal with that bitchy co-worker Sam, and in no time you’ll be making twice the salary and eating those delicious little donut holes every morning.

Your relationship ended for a reason. To tell yourself otherwise is to tell yourself lies. I know that right now your relationship looms large in the rearview mirror. But one day — with a little time and healing — it’ll be further away, and you’ll have better perspective on why he wasn’t the right man for you.

4. Take Care of Yourself

I know all you want to do is wallow on the couch, not eating and crying your eyes out, but I really need you to understand that taking care of yourself is part of knowing how to move on.

You are incredibly precious. This man didn’t have a clue how wonderful you were. And even if it’s hard for you to accept, I need you to treat yourself like you love yourself. That means getting out of the house and going for a walk. Spending time with friends (they’re your support group, after all).

Exercise is a wonderful way to heal. It releases endorphins that act as painkillers for that broken heart. Read The Secret. Go to a paint party. Do something that benefits you, while taking your mind off him.

I’m not saying you can’t have a Bridget Jones bingefest with Ben & Jerry on the side. Feel free to have a wallow day or two. It’s good for you. Just don’t make the wallowing your permanent state. Keep your goal in mind: feeling good and whole again. It may seem light years away, but if you take care of yourself, you’ll get there faster.

5. Get Back to Being Social

Believe me: I know how incredibly challenging these strategies for moving on can be. I know you don’t feel like being social. But I also know that if you are, you’ll heal faster.

Friends are so critical to moving on and feeling more like yourself again. Did you realize there are different types of friends you’ll need after a breakup?

There’s the friend who says comforting things, like “you’re better off without him. You’ll find someone new!”

There’s the friend who will get you drunk to forget the pain and try to hook you up with this guy she knows.

There’s the friend who will come over, throw open the curtains, and demand you finally get dressed and get out of the house.

There’s the friend who will just listen, not giving an opinion one way or another.

The fact is: you need all of these friends to get through this hard time. If you’ve built a loving and supportive network of friends you can turn to exactly the kind of person you need in the moment. But beyond simply talking to your friends, make sure you’re also getting out with them. Don’t skip your weekly girls’ night because you feel sorry for yourself. You’ll feel so much better surrounded by people who love you, who will tell you that you made the right decision and that they’re there for you.

6. Start Dating Again

via GIPHY

I know, I know: in no way do you feel up for dating right now. But all I’m asking you is to be open to it. When you’re ready to put yourself back out there for the right reasons — not to forget your heartbreak or make him jealous — you may find that you simply enjoy going out with a man who appreciates you.

You don’t have to fall in love. But you might be surprised at how you notice little things that you like better with a new date than the man you’ve been struggling to get over.

Maybe you go on a date with a guy who showers you with compliments…your ex never did.

Maybe your date takes charge planning your evening…your ex was always wishy-washy about making plans.

Maybe the guy you meet on a dating app texts every day to check in with you…your ex took forever to respond to your texts.

Even if you’re not ready for a serious relationship yet, dating again can help you clarify what you’re looking for in a mate…and show you what you were lacking with the last guy.

7.  Get Therapy if You Need It

Some people figure out how to move on after a heartbreak on their own, while others need professional help doing so. There is absolutely nothing wrong with seeing a therapist, and it could, in fact, help you heal faster, according to a study published in Social Psychological & Personality Science.

You may feel like you’re wearing out your welcome, complaining and crying to your friends. But if you’re not moving on, you still need someone to talk to. A therapist has experience helping people heal and may see aspects of your situation that you couldn’t see on your own.

Especially if you’re dealing with depression, I encourage you to see a licensed mental health professional. You may be surprised at how much better you feel.

8. Have a Good Cry (or Three)

Before you try to be all Wonder Woman and not cry, let me argue in favor of crying as an emotional release. Think about the last time you had a good cry (it might have been today!). While you may have felt terrible while you were sobbing, I would bet money that after you finished, you felt better.

Throw in sad music for even better results. No, really.  Think back to your eighth-grade self. What did you do after Billy rejected you? You listened to Tori Amos or Alanis Morrisette and bawled your eyes out.

Guess what? It still works.

A recent scientific study, published in the journal Scientific Reports, found that listening to a sad song and crying is cathartic and healing.

Who are you to go up against science? Embrace your eighth-grade habit. Maybe replay those songs that got you gushing back then. Or find new ones. Your sad playlist will be different than anyone else’s, but I bet you already know those tear-jerking songs you want on that list, right? Grab your box of tissues and go for it.

9. Stop Replaying Your Greatest Hits Reel in Your Head

Your best-of reel could easily turn into a horror film.

Since you’re not sleeping much these days, you find yourself playing a little film in your head at night.

The first time you kissed him…

The first time he told you he loved you…

That trip to San Francisco…

The problem with this movie you’re playing is that it just features your relationship’s greatest hits.  If you’re honest with yourself,  it was probably way crappier in real life than you’re remembering it to be. So the next time you find yourself daydreaming about your perfect relationship with this guy, get real.

Add the time he yelled at you in front of your friends…

Or was late for a date for the umpteenth time…

The time you caught him cheating…

If you’re going to relive the good times, you also need to relive the bad ones. This will help you remember why you left and why he’s not right for you. It’ll be easier to figure out how to move on if you are realistic about what your relationship really was.

10. Stop Blaming Yourself

“If only I…

…told him I loved him more…

…did what he told me…

…wasn’t so uptight about monogamy…

…was prettier…”

More than likely, you’re blaming yourself in some way, even if the relationship didn’t end because of you. You feel like if you’d acted differently, if you’d been different, things might have worked out.

Everyone’s got an opinion about Fate, but let’s look at it like this: if you believe that everything is predestined, then you were with this guy exactly as long as you were supposed to be. You could not have changed the outcome by acting differently. You owe it to yourself to always be authentic, and if you were doing that, then how can you expect that if you acted like someone else, things would have been better?

This is not your fault. You were supposed to have this relationship for as long as it lasted.

11. Stop Talking About Him

Your best friend: “You should wear the red dress tonight when we go out.”

You: “Ted loved me in that dress…”

Your best friend: “Let’s go out for tacos.”

You: “Ted loved cheesy gordita crunches…”

If every other word out of your mouth is your ex’s name, it’s time to be aware of that and change the habit. If you’re talking about him, it means you’re thinking about him, and if you’re thinking about him, you’re not successfully learning how to move on.

Put a rubber band on your wrist. Every time you start to talk about him, snap it (or better yet, have your friend snap it). This will make you aware of the habit and break you of it.

12. Know That He Wasn’t The One

Knowing he wasn’t the one will help you mend that broken heart.

I’ve said this a few ways in this article, but bottom line is: this wasn’t Mr. Right. There was some reason (or likely many reasons) you weren’t supposed to be with him long-term. If you clear away all the good memories, you’ll find those reasons.

Be assured, however, that ending things with this guy makes you free to find the guy who is right for you. You now know more about what your dream guy will be like (at least, you’ll know what he won’t be like) and can put your energy into finding the man who will make you happy every single day. This was not him.

13. Forgive Him

Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not suggesting you forgive your ex for his wrongs and take him back. But there is healing power in forgiving and moving on.

When you forgive him for hurting you, you release those negative emotions that were trapped in your head. This frees your heart and allows it to heal more easily.

You don’t have to tell him to his face that you’ve forgiven him. You don’t have to tell him at all. This is for you.

Write a letter to your ex, expressing your hurt about what happened. Then, write those simple words: “I forgive you.”

It may take a while to actually believe those words, but over time, you will and you will learn to let the past go. You can’t change the past, so the best thing you can do is let go of it.

14. Take Lessons Away from the Relationship

One day, when you have a different perspective, you will be able to take away lessons from the relationship. It might not happen today, but it will happen.

Maybe being with this guy taught you how to be open to love, or be more assertive, or even to trust your gut next time.

Maybe you learned that you needed to work on being more authentic in a relationship.

Maybe you learned that intellect and good conversation is super important to you.

Rather than look at this relationship as a waste of time ending in heartbreak, find that silver lining. Something good comes out of everything, even the tough stuff.

Make a list of what you liked in your relationship, what you learned about yourself, and what you discovered about what you want in future relationships. You might be shocked that this list is pretty long!

15. Give Yourself Time

I’m not going to lie: learning how to move on takes time. There’s no schedule for it. What might take your best friend two weeks to get over may take you a heck of a lot longer.

Be okay with it taking time.

Don’t rush it. You can’t rush grief, and in fact, trying to rush it will only prolong the pain.

So settle in with it. Accept that on any given day, you may feel like crap. You may be unable to see that light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to trust that it will come.

Conclusion:

Healing takes time, but you will get there!

The good thing about learning how to move on is that it gets easier. Maybe this is your first real heartbreak and you’re struggling with the process. But if there is a next time that your heart gets hurt (and I sincerely hope there is not), it may be a little easier to work through the pain and get to healing because you already have those strategies for how to move on faster.

You know what works for you after going through it once. You know, for example, that from Meet Positives SM Feed 3 https://ift.tt/2vTMVOG via IFTTT

[fayecallasdatingblog]

How To Move On When You Still Love Him: 15 Ways Move Forward With Your Life

After a big heartbreak, you’re struggling with how to move on when you still have strong feelings. From where you stand, it seems plain impossible that you’d ever be able to get over him.

Whether he ended it because he wasn’t ready to commit…

You broke up with him because you caught him cheating…

Or the two of you simply argued all the time…

Whatever the reason the relationship ended, you’re wondering whether it was the right decision after all. And yet, he seems to have less trouble figuring out how to move on from you…so why are you finding this so hard?

I’ve worked with thousands of men and women as a dating coach, and believe me: I’ve seen it all. There’s one thing I know to be true with breakups: the fact that it’s over is a sign it wasn’t meant to be.

Absorb that for a moment.

This wasn’t The One. It may have felt like he was. But he wasn’t. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you figure out how to move on, and the sooner you can heal.

How to Move On (15 Ways)

The strategies you use in how to move on will be your unique recipe for finding happiness again, but here are some proven tips I’ve seen work with my clients (and myself!).

1. Stop Texting or Talking to Him

I know, this sounds easier than it is, especially if he’s reaching out to you, trying to get you back. When you’re down, hearing from the man you loved (or still do) can be like a boost of serotonin. He still cares about you! That feels good, right?

The problem with this is that having this attention makes it too easy to forget why you broke up. You rationalize (with your very irrational post-breakup brain) that if he still loves you…and you still love him…why shouldn’t you be together?

I’m going to have to put my foot down here and insist on zero contact. Sure, if you have kids together, you’re going to have to communicate about logistics, but even then, stick to business-only and avoid communicating about your relationship.

I guarantee if you implement the 3-week No Contact Rule, you’ll have a much different perspective about things than you do right now.

2. Unfollow Him on Social Media

It’s kinda funny how we are as a society these days: when you start a relationship, you announce it on Facebook, where it becomes “official” once you’ve changed your relationship status. You do the same after a relationship has ended, but you also ceremonially “unfriend” the guy on Facebook and other social channels to communicate your pain to him.

I have slightly different advice. On Facebook, you have the option to unfollow him without unfriending him. This makes less of a loud statement (“you broke my heart and now I don’t wanna see your face in my feed!”) and if you ever do want to see what he’s up to…down the road after you’ve healed, you still have that ability.

Still, resist the urge to see what he’s been up to on Instagram or Facebook or Twitter or anywhere. It will only hurt you. If you want to know how to move on, you have to stop caring (or at least pretend not to) about what he’s doing.

Just think: if you saw a photo of him and another girl, how would you feel? Don’t take that chance. Stay away!

3. Stop Telling Yourself Stories About How Great Things Could Have Been

Don’t play the “what could have been” game!

I gave up too soon. We could have made it…

Humans do something kind of funny. While they’re in a bad situation, they fully recognize that things are crap. But when they’re out of it, it’s like a fog of forgetfulness rolls in and they can’t remember any of the negative aspects of the relationship.

Its like having a bad job. You reluctantly roll out of bed every morning, cursing the world, only to come home every night to bitch to your friends about how awful work is. Would you then quit just to start telling yourself that it wasn’t so bad because so-and-so brought in Munchkins once a week? NO! Buy your own damn Munchkins, start looking for a new job, and remember how great it is to not deal with that bitchy co-worker Sam, and in no time you’ll be making twice the salary and eating those delicious little donut holes every morning.

Your relationship ended for a reason. To tell yourself otherwise is to tell yourself lies. I know that right now your relationship looms large in the rearview mirror. But one day — with a little time and healing — it’ll be further away, and you’ll have better perspective on why he wasn’t the right man for you.

4. Take Care of Yourself

I know all you want to do is wallow on the couch, not eating and crying your eyes out, but I really need you to understand that taking care of yourself is part of knowing how to move on.

You are incredibly precious. This man didn’t have a clue how wonderful you were. And even if it’s hard for you to accept, I need you to treat yourself like you love yourself. That means getting out of the house and going for a walk. Spending time with friends (they’re your support group, after all).

Exercise is a wonderful way to heal. It releases endorphins that act as painkillers for that broken heart. Read The Secret. Go to a paint party. Do something that benefits you, while taking your mind off him.

I’m not saying you can’t have a Bridget Jones bingefest with Ben & Jerry on the side. Feel free to have a wallow day or two. It’s good for you. Just don’t make the wallowing your permanent state. Keep your goal in mind: feeling good and whole again. It may seem light years away, but if you take care of yourself, you’ll get there faster.

5. Get Back to Being Social

Believe me: I know how incredibly challenging these strategies for moving on can be. I know you don’t feel like being social. But I also know that if you are, you’ll heal faster.

Friends are so critical to moving on and feeling more like yourself again. Did you realize there are different types of friends you’ll need after a breakup?

There’s the friend who says comforting things, like “you’re better off without him. You’ll find someone new!”

There’s the friend who will get you drunk to forget the pain and try to hook you up with this guy she knows.

There’s the friend who will come over, throw open the curtains, and demand you finally get dressed and get out of the house.

There’s the friend who will just listen, not giving an opinion one way or another.

The fact is: you need all of these friends to get through this hard time. If you’ve built a loving and supportive network of friends you can turn to exactly the kind of person you need in the moment. But beyond simply talking to your friends, make sure you’re also getting out with them. Don’t skip your weekly girls’ night because you feel sorry for yourself. You’ll feel so much better surrounded by people who love you, who will tell you that you made the right decision and that they’re there for you.

6. Start Dating Again

via GIPHY

I know, I know: in no way do you feel up for dating right now. But all I’m asking you is to be open to it. When you’re ready to put yourself back out there for the right reasons — not to forget your heartbreak or make him jealous — you may find that you simply enjoy going out with a man who appreciates you.

You don’t have to fall in love. But you might be surprised at how you notice little things that you like better with a new date than the man you’ve been struggling to get over.

Maybe you go on a date with a guy who showers you with compliments…your ex never did.

Maybe your date takes charge planning your evening…your ex was always wishy-washy about making plans.

Maybe the guy you meet on a dating app texts every day to check in with you…your ex took forever to respond to your texts.

Even if you’re not ready for a serious relationship yet, dating again can help you clarify what you’re looking for in a mate…and show you what you were lacking with the last guy.

7.  Get Therapy if You Need It

Some people figure out how to move on after a heartbreak on their own, while others need professional help doing so. There is absolutely nothing wrong with seeing a therapist, and it could, in fact, help you heal faster, according to a study published in Social Psychological & Personality Science.

You may feel like you’re wearing out your welcome, complaining and crying to your friends. But if you’re not moving on, you still need someone to talk to. A therapist has experience helping people heal and may see aspects of your situation that you couldn’t see on your own.

Especially if you’re dealing with depression, I encourage you to see a licensed mental health professional. You may be surprised at how much better you feel.

8. Have a Good Cry (or Three)

Before you try to be all Wonder Woman and not cry, let me argue in favor of crying as an emotional release. Think about the last time you had a good cry (it might have been today!). While you may have felt terrible while you were sobbing, I would bet money that after you finished, you felt better.

Throw in sad music for even better results. No, really.  Think back to your eighth-grade self. What did you do after Billy rejected you? You listened to Tori Amos or Alanis Morrisette and bawled your eyes out.

Guess what? It still works.

A recent scientific study, published in the journal Scientific Reports, found that listening to a sad song and crying is cathartic and healing.

Who are you to go up against science? Embrace your eighth-grade habit. Maybe replay those songs that got you gushing back then. Or find new ones. Your sad playlist will be different than anyone else’s, but I bet you already know those tear-jerking songs you want on that list, right? Grab your box of tissues and go for it.

9. Stop Replaying Your Greatest Hits Reel in Your Head

Your best-of reel could easily turn into a horror film.

Since you’re not sleeping much these days, you find yourself playing a little film in your head at night.

The first time you kissed him…

The first time he told you he loved you…

That trip to San Francisco…

The problem with this movie you’re playing is that it just features your relationship’s greatest hits.  If you’re honest with yourself,  it was probably way crappier in real life than you’re remembering it to be. So the next time you find yourself daydreaming about your perfect relationship with this guy, get real.

Add the time he yelled at you in front of your friends…

Or was late for a date for the umpteenth time…

The time you caught him cheating…

If you’re going to relive the good times, you also need to relive the bad ones. This will help you remember why you left and why he’s not right for you. It’ll be easier to figure out how to move on if you are realistic about what your relationship really was.

10. Stop Blaming Yourself

“If only I…

…told him I loved him more…

…did what he told me…

…wasn’t so uptight about monogamy…

…was prettier…”

More than likely, you’re blaming yourself in some way, even if the relationship didn’t end because of you. You feel like if you’d acted differently, if you’d been different, things might have worked out.

Everyone’s got an opinion about Fate, but let’s look at it like this: if you believe that everything is predestined, then you were with this guy exactly as long as you were supposed to be. You could not have changed the outcome by acting differently. You owe it to yourself to always be authentic, and if you were doing that, then how can you expect that if you acted like someone else, things would have been better?

This is not your fault. You were supposed to have this relationship for as long as it lasted.

11. Stop Talking About Him

Your best friend: “You should wear the red dress tonight when we go out.”

You: “Ted loved me in that dress…”

Your best friend: “Let’s go out for tacos.”

You: “Ted loved cheesy gordita crunches…”

If every other word out of your mouth is your ex’s name, it’s time to be aware of that and change the habit. If you’re talking about him, it means you’re thinking about him, and if you’re thinking about him, you’re not successfully learning how to move on.

Put a rubber band on your wrist. Every time you start to talk about him, snap it (or better yet, have your friend snap it). This will make you aware of the habit and break you of it.

12. Know That He Wasn’t The One

Knowing he wasn’t the one will help you mend that broken heart.

I’ve said this a few ways in this article, but bottom line is: this wasn’t Mr. Right. There was some reason (or likely many reasons) you weren’t supposed to be with him long-term. If you clear away all the good memories, you’ll find those reasons.

Be assured, however, that ending things with this guy makes you free to find the guy who is right for you. You now know more about what your dream guy will be like (at least, you’ll know what he won’t be like) and can put your energy into finding the man who will make you happy every single day. This was not him.

13. Forgive Him

Don’t misunderstand me: I’m not suggesting you forgive your ex for his wrongs and take him back. But there is healing power in forgiving and moving on.

When you forgive him for hurting you, you release those negative emotions that were trapped in your head. This frees your heart and allows it to heal more easily.

You don’t have to tell him to his face that you’ve forgiven him. You don’t have to tell him at all. This is for you.

Write a letter to your ex, expressing your hurt about what happened. Then, write those simple words: “I forgive you.”

It may take a while to actually believe those words, but over time, you will and you will learn to let the past go. You can’t change the past, so the best thing you can do is let go of it.

14. Take Lessons Away from the Relationship

One day, when you have a different perspective, you will be able to take away lessons from the relationship. It might not happen today, but it will happen.

Maybe being with this guy taught you how to be open to love, or be more assertive, or even to trust your gut next time.

Maybe you learned that you needed to work on being more authentic in a relationship.

Maybe you learned that intellect and good conversation is super important to you.

Rather than look at this relationship as a waste of time ending in heartbreak, find that silver lining. Something good comes out of everything, even the tough stuff.

Make a list of what you liked in your relationship, what you learned about yourself, and what you discovered about what you want in future relationships. You might be shocked that this list is pretty long!

15. Give Yourself Time

I’m not going to lie: learning how to move on takes time. There’s no schedule for it. What might take your best friend two weeks to get over may take you a heck of a lot longer.

Be okay with it taking time.

Don’t rush it. You can’t rush grief, and in fact, trying to rush it will only prolong the pain.

So settle in with it. Accept that on any given day, you may feel like crap. You may be unable to see that light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to trust that it will come.

Conclusion:

Healing takes time, but you will get there!

The good thing about learning how to move on is that it gets easier. Maybe this is your first real heartbreak and you’re struggling with the process. But if there is a next time that your heart gets hurt (and I sincerely hope there is not), it may be a little easier to work through the pain and get to healing because you already have those strategies for how to move on faster.

You know what works for you after going through it once. You know, for example, that from Meet Positives SM Feed https://ift.tt/2vTMVOG via IFTTT