#he was so. stagnant through the series it was very hard to like him. though yeah the last episode where hes being accepting was cool

[dazais-guardian-angel]

🧡💛💖💕 for the Ask meme! (Tales of the Abyss ;))

🧡: What is a popular (serious) theory you disagree with?

Lmao well..... I think you saw my previous ask 😂😭 Any theory that says Asch or Lorelei or some weird Luke-Asch personality hybrid or anyone else people come up with that isn't just Luke who comes back at the end. It's gotta be Luke; the narrative just falls apart if it isn't. The other day when I was answering the previous ask looking for your "theory" post again I saw the take (put very simply here) that Abyss is a tragedy, Luke's character is a tragic one, so it makes sense that he ultimately dies and stays dead, and I'm just like.... how?? Genuinely I don't understand how his character arc can possibly be read as that his entire struggle to change and for life was just completely futile in the end and that there was no meaning to any of it all, that's such a downer ending for what is ultimately, despite how much sad shit happens in it, a hopeful story 😭😭😭 (one of the main themes is LITERALLY CALLED MEANING OF BIRTH).

Even putting that aside though, I just feel like it makes even less sense for Asch to come back?? Like, his character arc finished when he died. The whole point is that he remained stagnant the whole game and his tragedy is that he dies that way, while Luke was willing and able to change!! What purpose would it serve narratively to bring him back after his very sad yet satisfying conclusion?? Again, by all means, it makes for juicy AUs, but as canon.... there's no way.

💛: What is a popular ship you just can’t get behind, and why?

....I feel like I'm putting myself in danger answering this when it's coming from you 😂😭 But, well, I'm really not that interested in Luke/Tear lol. By no means do I hate it though, I just don't have any strong feelings towards it either way, and honestly part of that is just because I'm not really a shipper in general lol and nothing to do with them specifically. A lot of people who don't ship it say it's because they see Tear as more of a sister figure to Luke because that's how the game initially presents her as (and with the "big sister" title or whatever it's called), but idk... I honestly can't decide what I see her as to him. They just feel like very close friends to me by the end of the game, I guess, and although I like some of their touching scenes, I never really felt the chemistry between them. I guess it's just hard for me to imagine Luke in a relationship with everything he's going through during the game, and also Tear is pretty bland to me herself so that doesn't help. 😭 I know her Japanese voice is very different from her English one and her English one gets some flak, so maybe that's to blame ugh; maybe if I listened to her in Japanese sometime I would become more endeared to her.

💖: What is your biggest unpopular opinion about the series?

...If I had to pick another one that isn't just the first answer again lol, though this isn't exactly super unpopular, but Abyss is the best game in the Tales series, by a wide, wide margin. Not only do I believe it to be the best Tales game, but one of the best games of all time period, and one of the best stories of all time. Yes, I said what I said, fight me. And it has absolutely nothing to do with nostalgia; I played Abyss on my 3DS around 2014-2015, probably? in my early 20s, so I don't have any special childhood memories of it, nor was it even my first Tales game (Graces holds a special place in my heart for that). I just... played it, and it left such an incredible impact on me that has yet to be beaten by nearly any other media I've ever experienced. I don't know what it is about it that makes it so powerful, but it's true. Don't get me wrong, plenty of other stories have come very close to making me feel the same way..... but none of them have ever quite reached Abyss level.

So yeah, a lot of people agree Abyss is good.... but I still believe that most don't recognize it for the masterpiece it truly is.

💕: What is an unpopular ship that you like?

Like I said, I'm really not a shipper lol, but I'm really fond of Guy/Natalia? I just love their scenes together, how respectful and gentlemanly he is towards her, and how her growth is most strongly shown in plenty of her interactions with him; it's so lovely to see. 🥹 and I think about their time spent together post-Eldrant and before the epilogue, them helping each other grieve.... it destroys me so good :' ) they're very sweet together.

Thank youuu sista! 🩷

Ask game

[darkworkcourier]

Heyyyyy if it's okay, could I request body worship on Jason? Wanna spoil my boy 🥺🌟

so this is Part VI zombie!Jason, because that’s one of my favorite movies in the series and tbh i think he’s damn fine in it. i’m so down for writing for any form of jason though. ;D

(also have you ever smelled lake water when it’s nasty? gross gross gross.)

not that NSFW except for nudity! reader is mostly just taking in the view. B)

---

It's going to rain again. You groan as you look out the window, watching dark clouds prowl above the treeline. The air in the cabin smells musty, tinged with mildew that you just can't see to scrub away. And you've tried to keep it from being so damn drafty, but no amount of plywood or recycled two-by-fours can stop up all the holes. It's an old building, and you're constantly fighting a steep uphill battle against the elements.

Jason's not a huge help on that front, although he really tries his best. (You tell him so as often as you can.) He's not exactly a precise handyman. As far as you can tell, his technique is rooted firmly in the 'eyeball it' school of construction.

That's fine. That's perfectly fine. You can live with that.

What you can't live with is the fact that he smells like lake water, and that the stench gets stronger every day.

You get it. He's hesitant to change his clothes in front of you, even though you've been together for months. He doesn't own many clothes, and what he does own is patched up and liable to fall apart at the first vigorous wash. It's hard to find clothes in his size, so you just accept that until you can get to a department store (not soon, according to your calendar), Jason's wardrobe is extremely limited.

But still.

He's out at the moment, probably stalking around the woods and keeping a firm perimeter in the camp. You take the opportunity to scrub at the stone foundation of the cabin's walls with soapy water, trying to get rid of at least a little more mildew before the rain completely negates everything you do. Before long, Jason will lay in bed beside you, cuddling you close to him with every ounce of love in that zombified heart of his. In turn, you'll hug him back while really absorbing that great stagnant mud smell. Awesome.

The rain starts only a few minutes later. Naturally, it comes down in curtains. No gentle mist or soft rain. No, the meteorology gods decide that every linen in your cabin is going to get nasty as fast as possible.

And it means that when Jason finally gets home, he's soaked through.

He comes through the door in his usual hulking manner, shoulders filling the gap in the doorway, head bowed to duck under the top. After a stern talking-to about bringing bloody weapons into the house, you're pleased to see that he's machete-less, but far less pleased to see him dripping rainwater (and hopefully no other kind of fluid) all over the floor. His barn jacket is done for, and that shirt—well, you didn't like it that much anyway.

He gives a low grunt as a hello, and you grin and go up on your toes to kiss the bottom of his mask as he tilts his head down to return the gesture. Immediately, the smell hits you, and you try not to scurry away in horror. You can handle him slicing camp counselors into teeny tiny bits, and you can handle him coming home covered in viscera, but apparently that steel stomach doesn't hold up against whatever funk he has going on.

He starts for the bed, and all you have are visions of a long night with wet corduroy and denim chafing against your skin. You cross the gap between the two of you again to grab his (very wet) sleeve.

"Jason, sweetheart, hold on a sec," you say.

He turns to look at you, one good eye staring down in confusion.

You tug on his jacket until he faces you, then you reach up and pull on the lapels. "You're soaked right through. That can't be comfortable, right?"

He just looks down at himself like he's trying to gauge if he's uncomfortable like you say. In the end, he just shrugs. Clearly, it's not a big issue.

You look at the bed, again imagining the kind of night you’re going to have if you don’t nip this in the bud right now. You take in a deep breath (a potpourri—eau de waterlogged zombie) and let it out slowly before gripping his barn jacket a little tighter. You have his attention, both asymmetrical eyes on you.

“Listen, if you get in that bed like this, I’m not going to be comfortable,” you say. “Or I’ll have to sleep on the couch.”

No, you won’t. That thing predates you by at least forty years, and any cushion it did have probably disintegrated ten years ago. But the threat’s real enough.

He looks at you, eyes flickering back and forth as he apparently gauges how serious you are. Then, he reaches down and touches the lining of his jacket, hands just below yours.

He hesitates.

It’s the same dance you’ve been doing these last few months—wrangling with Jason and his weird hang-ups on himself when he’s around you. Once he’s out in his territory, he seems like he could care less what he wears (or doesn’t wear) or how he looks. He has a job to do, and as long as it gets accomplished, everything else is secondary. Then he gets home and falls into your arms, and suddenly he’s shy, freezing up, retreating.

It’s a conundrum. He won’t take his clothes off around you, but he doesn’t care that he smells like stagnant pond water. You wonder if his time in the lake or the grave killed his sense of smell off.

“Hey,” you say, soft like you’re trying to coax a wild animal. Your hands go up, framing his thick neck, cords of muscle flexing under your palms. “You’re fine. If I didn’t like you just the way you are, I would have high-tailed it out of here already.”

He gives you a look that pretty much just says doubtful. Maybe because the only way you would have left the camp otherwise was in a body bag. You don’t dwell on that too much.

You go on, “I like you for you, Jason. Can I show you that?”

He tilts his head. For a moment, you think he doesn’t understand your intentions, but then he gives a slow, askew nod.

You’re not going to tug him to the bed like you usually do. Instead, you pull his jacket off as he stands there, dripping on the damp flagstones. It’s difficult, wet as it is, and Jason’s height and width don’t help the issue. But you manage, carefully pulling his arms through the sleeves, then dropping the jacket (with a disturbingly wet sound) on the floor behind you.

Then, you start working on the buttons of his flannel shirt. Most of the buttons are clinging on for dear life, fighting against the bulk of his chest and the worn threads. You go about it slowly, reverently, trying to show him as best you can that you adore every piece of him. Little by little, you expose his chest, the strange gray hue of his skin, the weirdly hypnotizing way his pectoral muscles move under the dead flesh.

You feel him lightly tug back against your grip, clearly growing more reticent about showing himself to you. But you pull back, even though if he really wanted to get away, he’d do so and probably take your hands with him. You pause in undoing his shirt to run one hand over his chest with a feather-light touch. His skin is cool to the touch, and you wonder how much sensation he has left, if he has any at all. You’ve seen him take hit after hit from rifles, shotguns, blades, skewers—pretty much any implement that would inflict pain on a normal person. Those scars form constellations on his skin now, starbursts of gunfire connected to each other through long scars from blades.

Goddamn, if he’d taken his clothes off sooner, you would have had his whole body mapped by now. That’s a hell of a missed opportunity.

“You’re fine,” you whisper to him, leaning in enough to kiss the divot between his collarbones.

He lets out a soft whush of air that you interpret as a sigh, and then one of his hands finds your waist, pulling you closer. Permission granted.

The rest of his shirt comes off fairly easy, and you manage to hide your disgust at the feeling of literally peeling it off of him. Then, for the first time since you started this relationship with him, you see him shirtless.

He’s barrel-chested, built so solidly that it’s no surprise he can lift people right over his head without effort. And sure enough, his skin is mottled in a weirdly beautiful way. (You might be the only one who thinks so, and that’s fine. You never intended to share him, anyway.) He doesn’t have any of the bloat you’d associate with drowning, only the oxygen-deprived color. You never thought you’d think cyanosis was kind of sexy, but here you are, and there he is.

“Perfect,” you tell him, then you kiss a slow trail along his left pectoral, up to his shoulder, which is about as high as you can reach.

Jason, sweetheart that he is, bends his knees a little to give you a better reach. At first, he stiffens under your touch as you kiss his neck, approaching his jaw. But you stroke a hand over his other shoulder, soothing him as best you can.

“I won’t take off the mask if you don’t want me to,” you say, mouth close to his malformed ear. “Just let me know what you don’t want.”

You lean back enough to see him look at you; then, he closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly.

“You want to keep the mask on?”

He nods.

You smile against his neck and kiss him gently. “That’s fine,” you assure him.

Besides, you have plenty more of him to work with. You’ll see his face eventually, and you’ll probably love it just as much as you love the rest of him.

As you kiss him, your hands go down to the button and zipper on his jeans. He freezes up for just a moment, then relaxes. He trusts you, and you know better than to betray that trust in any way. You undo his jeans, then struggle a little as the wet denim clings to him and bunches up as you try to pull it down. You laugh under your breath as you try to accomplish all this without pulling away from him, but eventually you have to admit defeat.

“Hold on,” you tell him. “Denim’s pretty much the worst fabric when it gets wet.”

He watches you as you drop down to your knees, tugging his jeans down a little at a time on each side. Eventually, once they get to his knees, it gets a hell of a lot easier to remove them. You stop the effort only to help him take off his boots and socks (and that smell is brand new, even to you), then pat his ankles to get him to step out of each pant leg.

Again, you admire the sight of him. His thigh muscles are powerful, and it’s really not an exaggeration to compare his calves to a Greek statue. Honestly, if he were a little less... dead, you probably wouldn’t be his only admirer.

His underwear doesn’t amount to much, just cotton briefs that have had way better days than this. The elastic’s shot, and the only thing keeping them in place is the sheer power of dampness. Once your hands go to the band, he completely freezes up again, but this time, his muscles don’t loosen.

The two of you haven’t done anything sexual yet. From the rumors you’ve heard over time, you can guess Jason’s got a thing about sex in any form. He doesn’t mind when you kiss him, and he can’t get enough when it comes to cuddling up to you and holding you close. But he’s never touched you anywhere below the waist, or done anything that you could interpret as a come-on. You’d never push him too far, or make him do anything he doesn’t want, and you really want him to know.

“I won’t do anything,” you assure him. “We just need to get you out of these and into something drier.”

For a long, long moment, he doesn’t move. Then, he nods. It’s little more than a brief incline of the head, but you take it as the signal you’ve been watching for. Careful not to brush any part of your hand over his cock, you pull down his briefs, then discard them off to the side.

Just because you’re not going to touch it doesn’t mean you’re not going to admire it, though.

Because if the world at large knew that Jason Voorhees was packing that, people might rethink the idea of fleeing in terror. Or— well, maybe that’s a bad metaphor. Killing people generally puts off company, but there are definitely people out there who would not hesitate to bend over for this. His cock is long and thick, even when soft, and you can’t imagine what it looks like when it’s hard. Like the rest of him, it’s kind of an off-putting color (kind of a blue-gray, if you’re being honest in comparing palettes), but if Jason’s body can do everything else you’ve seen it do through what ever supernatural means, you imagine he could get hard, too.

After the briefs are discarded (and probably burnt in the fireplace next time he’s out), you reverently run your hands over his thighs, down the fronts, up the backs. You know he’s watching you, keeping an eye on your reactions as you look over his body.

You look up at him as lovingly as you can. It’s not an act, either. Sure, your wires got crossed somewhere in between running for your life from him and ending up in bed with him, but what you feel for him is pure affection. You smile at him, then lean forward to press a kiss to one hip, causing him to tilt his head again.

You stand back up, going up on your toes to kiss the holes in his mask over his mouth. “Let me get a towel,” you tell him.

He stays in one place as you go get a towel. The bathing conditions at the cabin aren’t great, pretty much limited to what you can get in the gravity well and what towels Jason gets from the counselors’ luggage. That said, you get the fluffiest towel you have on hand (it’s bright pink, and it’s awesome) and start drying him off from head to toe.

Again, you don’t really know how much he can feel, but you can tell he likes this. Maybe it’s just the sense of contact, knowing that you’re touching him. Your movements are slow, deliberate, and gentle. His eyelids droop, and he lets out a low, rumbling sound like a purr, head inclining again as he leans toward you.

Not for the first time, you wish you could read his mind. He’s clearly touch-starved, but you wonder when was the last time someone was kind to him like this.

You wrap the towel around his shoulders, then put your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. He doesn’t have a heartbeat, but the feeling of his cool skin on your cheek is nice, and the sensation of his hands coming to rest on your shoulders makes you feel safe. Rain hisses on the ground outside, wind whistling through the pines. Everything just feels right.

You pull back just enough to look up at him, pink towel and all, and you smile.

“Take me to bed, Mister Voorhees?” you ask.

He nods, then dips his head down to gently knock his mask against your forehead in a gesture you like to think is his version of a kiss. Then, you’re swept up in his arms and deposited in bed. He lays down beside you, a hulking mass of naked man, and you wonder how you got so damn lucky.

You curl up against him, resting your head on his chest, running your fingers along his sides. In turn, he rests one of his massive hands on your chest, fingers idly playing with the hem of your shirt. The rain lulls you into a doze, and you think it won’t be long now before you’re asleep in his arms.

Best of all, he doesn’t smell like anything now.

[beerose-blog]

So, hello. I'm Bee. If you're one of my friends, you may recognize the title "Bee's Gradual Guide To Success". If you don't, it was actually the title of one of my personal "article series"/blogs that I made last November. I started it off with a lot of excitement, but I eventually got discouraged about myself and moved on, feeling so mortified about it that I wished I had never written it, even though my friends said it was really good. Here it is:

I think the funniest thing about this blog series is that it was all about being "real". You know, we live in a world where everything is completely over-saturated with success, and it's hard to find someone who will speak the truth about their experiences and failures. In the blog, I said and I quote:

"That’s actually the purpose of this blog/guide. First of all, I want to let the world know it’s OKAY to not know what you’re doing. Everyone, even the most successful people started from the very beginning. We live in a world that’s filled to the brim with the success stories of others- it can be overwhelming and make our own goals seem vast, intimidating, and unachievable."

Through my blog, I wanted to let everyone know that it was okay to have setbacks, that it was okay to fail at things; that all these obstacles would help us eventually succeed at whatever we wanted to do. And many people liked it. And then, do you know what happened?

I stopped writing it because I felt like a failure.

Now, let me tell you a little something about myself: I am the QUEEN of trying, failing, and giving up. I have had countless, countless career aspirations and dreams. I've wanted to be a business woman, running my own coffeeshop/bookstore called the CoZe Café. I've also wanted to be an artist who would sell commissions. For a very long time I also wanted to be an animator. I've had aspirations to run my own online shop with knitted and crocheted goods, I've wanted to be a seamstress, an accountant, the list goes on and on and on. It doesn't help, either, that I've got a cocktail of mental health diagnoses including bipolar 2 hypomania, which effectively makes me feel like a god that can achieve absolutely anything. But two times, so far, I've settled on novelist/editor.

Novelist/editor. What would it truly be like to live that dream? To work in some big publishing house, editing what could be the next famous author's story - making their dreams a reality, validating them. It sounds great! Right?

Well, I'm not quite at this point yet. In fact, about an hour ago, I was completely at my wit's end, even considering dropping my classes. You see, I'm an English major, working to get my Associate's degree at a Community College. The plan, currently, is to eventually get a PhD in English from Harvard. However that plan definitely seems far away considering this is my first semester and I'm already many, many assignments behind. It's week two, by the way.

Thus, once again, things become stagnant. I ask myself, "What do I do? How am I ever going to succeed? Am I just a failure like they all said I was?". And am I? It certainly seems so so far. But yet, someone told me I'm not.

This particular person told me exactly this:

"so i say, its not too late for you."

The "so i say" is in reference to the other part of the story he told me. He had spent his life working on various projects, writing and others, only to lose them all with the loss of his computer. So, he gave up. He worked, worked, and worked. He even said he was "Just a tired adult without hobbies". Until finally, he found a certain community, the same one where I met him. And through that community, he found friends and his love for writing once again. And he didn't give up. In fact, I'd even boldly claim to say he never gave up, as writing eventually DID come back to him.

So what about me? What should I do? Writing itself has been a theme all throughout my childhood, starting way back with my first attempted novel titled "Billy & Mandy" that I scrawled in a black composition notebook at age 8. It's always been present, coming back to me in bursts and staying longer each time. So what do I do now? Do I simply just "give up" on that dream?

And now, as you read, you may be wondering things. "What is the purpose of this? Isn't her blog called 'Bee's Gradual Guide To Success?' Where does success come in? What's happening? All she's talked about is her failures."

Or perhaps, you are just scrolling along, and clicked this by mistake. Or maybe your phone is in your pocket, and you've mistakenly buttdialed my tumblr account. Who knows! The world is full of endless possibilities!

However, if you are wondering what my purpose is by writing this, it's very simple:

There isn't any.

The only real purpose I have is personal; I am just trying to document my life, just in a public format.. Maybe, by sharing my story of success and failure, it will help you. Maybe you will continue to scroll. Either way, I will be here, posting. It makes me happy to do this, to document my story in vivid, painted detail. The idea excites me. And maybe someone out there will connect with my struggles, and find the courage to keep moving forward in the darkness, knowing there's someone out there just like them.

So I guess in that case I lied in a way, there is sort of a purpose. I mean, what did you expect? It is called "Bee's Gradual Guide To Success". And the main fact is, I have no idea what I'm doing.

So I wish you luck in your own journey, if you do end up seeing this - and maybe you'll find some of yourself in mine.

[gunkreads]

I did end up finishing Baptism of Fire this week. I kinda... don't have much to say about it (future gunk here: don't believe his lies). I've gotten to the point with the Witcher series where it's very reliant on reader buy-in. I'd almost say this is a natural consequence of the concept of "a series", but this feels different.

The following phrasing tends toward the negative a lot. That tone doesn't reflect my feelings on the book; I liked it quite a bit. I just think the negative tone kind of illustrates my point better. Also I'm kind of a hater so it's my natural writing voice.

I think a lot of book series tend to evolve and come into their own, so to speak, as they progress (that feels inane to even say). The Witcher is, on the surface, no different--it really does continue to move along the tracks it sets for itself in the short stories and earlier books. It starts to add curves and bumps to those tracks, though, in that it starts to feel like the author (slash translator, for me) is kind of side-eyeing you for a reaction to any given story beat, then seeing that it didn't make you quit reading and tweaking the gears behind the curtain a little.

It's like it's a subtle satire of the concept of reader investment. Instead of using buy-in as a tool to facilitate progressively moving toward a unique ideal of the author's, as I find most stories do, it seems to use buy-in as a go-ahead to redefine that "unique ideal". This is a bad explanation. I'm trying really hard to put it into words. It's not that the series is wishy-washy or disrespectful of your time--it's both clear and concise--but it definitely seems like it's constantly asking you to reassess its structure from top to bottom.

If I had to really reach for a solid explanation, I'd say this is best represented by the traveling sequences. In Baptism of Fire, the story that Geralt lives is completely stagnant in relation to his goals as a person. He's trying to find Ciri. He makes, and I cannot stress this enough, literally zero progress. He's just fuckin' walkin' places. He makes some friends, loses some friends, makes more friends, finds the ones he lost... etc. The parts of the book focused on him are about assessing who he is as a character and how his goals are misaligned with the methods he believes he has to use to achieve them--namely, that he can't find Ciri alone. He has to go through like a hundred revelations and a couple quasi-apotheoses before actually getting the guts to ask his incredibly loyal friends and companions for help. It's almost funny, and it's a very fun example of how deep emotional change could happen in an old and very, very, deeply sad guy, but it necessarily takes a long fucking time!

This constant feeling of stumbling forward on a treadmill really leaves me feeling like Sapkowski & translator are asking me to put the book down and write an essay about Geralt's character. Which I guess I'm doing, so... Andrzej, one point for you, I fucking guess.

For real though, this book series feels like it's toeing the line of what can be called "pretension". Is it pretentious to insert tone into your book that makes the reader feel like they're being asked to deeply analyze a character? I'd say yeah, it probably is, and I love that shit, but... there is a lot to say about Geralt! He's not devoid of meaning! He just doesn't have THAT much meat to him.

I can still wholeheartedly recommend the Witcher books to anyone who loves gritty low fantasy--it's pretty close to being a paragon of the genre--and I do think Baptism of Fire was probably the most fun book in the series so far, but I really wanted to talk about this weird feeling I had the whole time while reading it.

I also might be hallucinating.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Wonderful World - Mood Boards & Casting

Hello friends, I did a new post of this as well! And here is the Masterlist for the series as well!

Breakdown:

Diana Beltran is a single mom to 14 year old Celeste Beltran. Celeste is going through regular teenage angst and her mom finds her a therapist to help her through her struggles. Harry Styles is a Psychiatrist with a year old psychology practice. Despite his recent successes in life and him reaching his career goals, he feels like he should be a lot more happy, but instead he feels a bit stagnant. When Diana & Celeste come into his life he is immediately drawn to Diana and soon develops a crush on her. Harry is then faced with the reality of his life and what it could be if he just decides to take a leap, but pursuing a client's relative is unethical and can put his career at risk. Will he choose to stay on his path or risk everything for love?

CASTING:

Main Character Mood Boards:

Name/Title: Harry Styles, MD

Profession: Psychiatrist

Age: 34

About him: Studied clinical psychology in England and came to the U.S. for medical school and ended up getting his residency to stay and work as psychiatrist. Comes from a now moderately wealthy, but self-made family and has two very supportive parents, is an only child. He enjoys making music, reading, researching, pretending to be a movie critic, and renovating his home. He has his own therapy practice and has just started as an adjunct professor at his local state university. He has always been very focused on his career goals, so other parts of his life have been a bit neglected because of that. He loves his job though and it's his number one priority.

Characteristics: Amiable, charming, laid back, spontaneous, intelligent, protective, dependable, creative/innovative, openminded, free spirited, gentle, & kind. Stubborn, distant/aloof, over-thinker, unpredictable, self-centered, jealous, hot headed.

Name/Title: Diana Beltran, MA

Profession: Associate Professor, World Languages & Culture Department

Age: 33

About her: Diana came to the U.S. from Mexico with her family at the age of 10. Comes from a generationally wealthy family, her father's business endeavors brought him to the U.S. where they resided up until she graduated high school. Her family is very traditional and strict, she has one older brother named Damian, aged 36, and they are very close. She had Celeste at 19, parents and other extended family were not supportive and helped very little. Only her brother helped her. She is a Spanish language & Latam art & culture professor at the local state university and is mother to Celeste (14) - between teaching and her daughter, she doesn't have too much free time, but she doesn't feel that she has missed out on life. Her feee time now consists of very laid-back or relaxing activities, she doesn’t pursue a lot of the creative ventures she did when she was younger. After having Celeste life became about her and she doesn’t have too much time for herself, but that’s doesn’t upset her at all, she wants to do as much as she can for her daughter.

Characteristics: Independent, intelligent, sociable, artistic, adaptable, easy-going, idealistic, compassionate, trustworthy, humble, & gentle. Impatient, people pleaser, fearful, contradicting, flighty, not nice when angry, avoidant.

Name/Title: Celeste Beltran

Profession: Student, High school Freshman

Age: 14

About her: Celeste is an only child to her mom, Diana, she never met her father and her mom doesn’t like to talk about him all that much. Celeste is having a hard time adjusting to high school, Diana doesn’t know yet, but she is having some struggles with the popular clique in her class and it’s making her feel very anxious and sad. She loves to sing and play guitar, she used to that a lot with her mom, but as she’s gotten busier and she’s gotten older it’s been harder for her them to make the time to do those kinds of things together. She has two close friends at school, Geri and Oswald, and they spend a lot of their free time together; they're thinking of starting a band. Her uncle Damian is the closest thing she has ever had to a dad and he constantly checks up on her, other than that she doesn't know too much about her family as her grandparents don't really speak to her mom any more.

Characteristics: Quiet, kind, determined, focused, artistic, intelligent, patient, dependable, soft-spoken, humble, and warm. Stubborn, over-cautious, short-tempered, rigid, resentful, spiteful when angry.

[cardfate]

Case Study : Redesigning Kingdom Hearts for Mobile Gamers

Context

Video games should be a universal experience, but increasingly, older gamers find themselves isolated from it due to games' lack of accessibility.

Kingdom Hearts is an action role-playing game developed by Square Enix and released on the PlayStation 2 in 2002. The game features an action-oriented battle system, a role-playing leveling system, and a few smaller mini-game sections between worlds. For the redesign, the plot will not be affected by any changes. However, it would be made more for users to play on the go for a quick burst or while sitting and relaxing at home for a longer more, “system-like” play.

Objective

Redesign the UI of a nonmobile game, Kingdom Hearts, into a mobile gaming experience accessible to elders.

Implementation

Menus

| Pause Menu

| Redesigned Pause Menu

Menus would be streamlined in the gaming process so that the elder player can spend more playtime in-game rather than in menus. Many of the previous menu options are now automatically added to the player (upgrades and abilities) or are not needed anymore (status and customize).

Exploration

| Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories Isometric Camera

| Redesign UI camera and main UI

Originally, Kingdom Hearts used a 3rd Person camera that is known to be very floaty, difficult to control, and overall unresponsive. For the redesign, the camera would be isometric and follow the character as it moves. For an older player, I wouldn’t want them to have to think about the camera in any way or move it. This type of camera was only used one other time in the series for the title Kingdom Hearts: Chain of Memories for the Gameboy.

The player character, Sora, has a glowing green dot under him for visual contrast and so he is more noticeable to elder players especially if other characters or enemies are on screen. Enemies in the game have a red spot under them and they stand in one spot, unmoving, unlike the original game.

Within exploring the game world, there would be a color system for doors. If a door leads to another accessible area it would glow: Red for boss areas and gold for normal areas. This change was because the original game has a lot of painted on doors for textures and I wanted the player to be clear on where they can go.

A mini-map would be added to the game, to assist navigation. Though the first game lacks one, this was later corrected in newer entries. Some areas of Kingdom Hearts are known to be hard to navigate and I believe this quality-of-life change will help a lot with navigation. On the mini map, doors are marked either gold or red just like in the overworld. The player is also marked with a green dot. The mini-map will also be stagnant and not move.

World Map and Gummi Ship Minigame

| World Map

| Gummi Ship Mini Game

| Redesigned world map

For these two sections, there are no major changes because they are already simple and straightforward.

For the world map, I only changed the way the battle level is displayed, I used numbers out of 10 instead of the star system because I believe it’s easier to understand. The only change I would give gummi sections is making them shorter, making the HP and MP bars like the new battle ones (introduced below), and giving the ship automatic upgrades instead of having to build and add them yourself because, in the original game, this system is confusing and unfun.

Battle System, Magic, and Item Change

| Standard battles in Kingdom Hearts

| Redesigned Battles (showing Health Points)

| Redesigned Battle (showing Magic Points)

To make Kingdom Hearts more accessible and easier on a mobile format, I decided to change from an action battle system to a turn-based battle system. Action games require quick reflexes and timing, two things that decrease as a person ages, however; for a turn-based game, the player will not have to worry about reaction times or reflexes, they may take as long as they like to go through battles. The camera during this section would not change, only the characters would move.

Health Points (HP) and Magic Points (MP) would be displayed differently. Instead of the radial style used in the original, I opted for using bars for a simpler look. HP will display directly under the player character in most menus, only when clicking the "Magic" menu will the bar change to show the player's MP. This change is to help with managing the different point systems so the battle UI is not cluttered. Number percentages would be added to both bars to help with understanding the number of points left. For enemies, the HP bar will always be shown under the enemy and will not need to be unlocked like in the original game. Under the enemy that’s being targeted, a blue circle will be shown.  For each battle, HP and MP will replenish back to 100% for the player.

To adapt to a mobile format,  made changes to the command menu that Kingdom Hearts uses for battles. Instead of having to scroll through and select, the player can simply tap the button for attacking, blocking, magic and items. Within this I also made a change to items used in battles, only three would be available to players: Potion (for healing HP), Ether (for healing MP), and Antidote for status effects. All status effects would be able to heal with Antidote instead of having different items for statues, this makes item management much simpler for an elderly player.

The magic system now lists all the magic available and automatically upgrades to the stronger version of the spell instead of having to equip it, taking away the need to prep outside of battles and streamlines the playing experience.

The party system would work similarly to other games with the party member characters attacking/healing/blocking on their own however I would like the party members to be programed to heal the player character’s health or magic more often than themselves so that it’s less that an elderly player would have to worry about, and they can focus on attacking the enemies.

| Redesigned Item Menu

[hellhoundlair]

just finished merlin. What the fuck.

[cantalouupe]

library

nsfw!!! kaeya x f!reader

part 4 of a little series: part 1, part 2, part 3

hand & finger kink, public sex

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The library was a place that, for the oddest reason, held a lot of sexual tension. It was where things really took off with Kaeya, where he really got bold.

Memories of breathless whimpers and a certain someones pretty bare hands stayed stagnant, trapped in time. A specific corner of the room, between two rows of bookshelves, that could make anyone blush just by seeing what went on.

Weirdly enough those memories never really faded, because the next time you went there together, you found yourselves in a very similar predicament.

It’s always hard to tell who really starts it. Kaeya is so shameless and always teasing, but you’re a desperate and needy little thing that gives heated looks and little whimpers that make Kaeya’s self control crack.

You had a simple request - find books about Visions. After becoming close with someone who has their own elemental power, your curiosity peaked. “Come to the library with me?” You had asked Kaeya, tugging gently at his hand so sweetly that it was impossible for him to say no.

Everything was going along fine, Kaeya’s hand in yours while you scanned through the titles available, searching for one that seemed the most interesting or helpful.

A simple prod from Kaeya came when you passed a very similar spot in the library and your head ducked in embarrassment. He thinks it’s funny, how easily worked up you get when he mentions things like that.

When he started backing you up into that same corner you were caged in so many weeks ago, you stared up at him with that expression he loves.

Your eyes go wide you blink up at him, looking so pretty, all for him.

“Remember what happened here last time?” He asks once he’s got you pressed up against the wall and you scoff, placing your hands against his chest.

“You seduced me,” You respond smoothly. Your voice didn’t sound too shaky, thank god. “And forced me to suck your fingers.”

Kaeya makes a noise similar to a snort. “Mhm, you put up a real fight.”

You huff.

“Would you have let me have you in here?” He changes the direction of the conversation.

Dropping your gaze to his chest, you tell him to be quiet.

“Imagine that,” he continues, hands smoothing down the expanse of your torso. “If I had fucked you right here against this wall.”

“Stop it,” you mumble, pushing at him lightly. Lisa will kill you if she finds out you let Kaeya have sex with you in her library, around her books. She’d never let you in here again.

Kaeya doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, laughing breathily before leaning in to skim his lips against your jaw.

“I could bend you right over the table and have my way with you.” He knows how to talk you into doing things, knows how to make you desperate. He could probably get you to let him have you over the Headmasters desk in her office if he wanted to.

You shake your head, a weak protest, and he makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

“No? We both know you want it, though.”

A whine from you results in a grin against the side of your neck, where he had been teasingly dragging his mouth across.

He began bunching the skirt of your dress, dragging the fabric up so he can have easier access to your lower body. “Will you hold this up for me, angel?”

How are you supposed to refuse when he talks so sweet to you?

Hesitantly, you nod and grip the fabric, keeping it bunched around your hips. You’re exposed like this, just like Kaeya wanted. It feels a little humiliating to be on display and you lean your head to the side a little to try to see if anyone was around.

Kaeya stopped you, though, catching your jaw before you got the chance to look passed him. “I bet it makes you excited knowing that someone could be watching.”

He’s so cocky. Doesn’t even ask you, already knows the things that get under your skin, what makes you hot and needy.

A hand slides down your body and your hips twitch forwards. “Maybe if we’re lucky someone will walk by and see you getting fucked.”

Fingers rub against your cunt and you let out a sigh, head falling forward. He’s painstakingly slow with it, barely putting enough pressure to make you feel good.

“You’d like if they watched, wouldn’t you?”

His words, on the other hand, are hot and they make you wet and desperate for his touch. It’s frustrating to have to wait when you’re so close to getting it and if he’s going to touch you out in the open you wish he’d just get on with it.

But he doesn’t. His fingers swipe slowly through your wetness and every time you try to roll your hips into the touch, he removes it.

“Kaeya.”

He hums happily back at you, pushing your hips against the wall to keep you from hitching them forwards whilst he touches you.

You squirm in retaliation. “Please.”

He laughs at you once again, popping his wet fingers in your mouth to clean them from your juices. “Ah, so you do want it.”

He hitches one of your legs up for better access and prepares to slide into you, murmuring into your ear while doing so. “Be quiet or else they’ll know you’re being fucked.”

You aren’t very quiet. Can’t be quiet, not when his cock is finally inside and it feels as good as it does. You’ve never been quiet with him, always loud, babbling nonsense with each time he fills you.

He doesn’t stop you at first, letting you cry out as you wish to, but once you start raising the volume, he steps in. He can’t have you alarming someone of whats going on when you’ve only just begun.

“So loud. You’re going to get us caught.” A slap falls on your cunt, right above where his cock slides inside and you moan high.

He tells you your a painslut and hits you again on the same area, twice in a row. You almost fall in on yourself because of it, leg too shaky too support your weight.

Noting this, Kaeya decides to move you around, manhandling you so you’re bent over one of the library tables instead of pressed against the wall.

You’re able to fall boneless on the table, hands grappling onto the shiny wooden surface while Kaeya falls into a new rhythm, fucking three orgasms out of you before he finally finished himself.

You don’t really get caught by anyone, but the guard that stands by the entrance of the library looked a little bothered and refuses to make eye contact with either of you. Lisa never comes after you and you assume that she didn’t find out, which was a win to you.

You don’t ask Kaeya to go to the library with you anymore, though.

[istadris]

(very long) Unicron vs Primus: some headcanons, and side-story fodder (most relevant to TFA)

Foreword: Through being in the transformers fandom, i read many a headcanon and watched many a series. Common things i noticed, that not much thought goes into unicron, primus themselves, or how and why anyone would care abt Earth in particular, through the endless conflict, and usual neglect of casualties for other species. And kind of plot holes as to why they always gravitate towards Earth too. As i consumed more content and revisited ideas, and looked at more irl science stuff, HFY stories, and just the sheer bs going on here on a day-to-day business, i had an eureka moment. Basically my random headcanons chrystallized into a condensed version, even though some elaboration is required, so here we go!

Background elaboration: So what i got to know about the planet-brothers, is that they were made by either a higher being, or an ancient species, or both. At the beginning they were one, but got split, and their roles assigned. I think i read somewhere too, that while Primus accepted his role easily, Unicron didn't like it much. For a while there was balance. Eventually being hated, shunned, having a bleak existance, worsening relationships with his brother got to him, and not even being able to create only destroy, he became what he appears in most media as.

There are also hints of myriad deities, and creator species across the galaxy too, depending how much somebody invests to read every lore-crumb. Most galactic denizens acting like they are the top-of-the-world too, and claim their beliefs to be the right one, usually brandishing some legit minor or major proof of gift etc.. Especially cybertronians.

Humans can show up with none. Scientific research shows no immediate creator, as the evolution of life on the planet can be followed back to the beginning. Whether or not an asteroid bathed in a black-hole's jet and got naturally occuring organic molecules stuck inside it to chrystallyze into more complex forms before becoming life on Earth, or the process occured on-planet is irrelevant.

Either way natural entropy created the life on the planet, or an outside entity using it. Who is the regent of entropy and chaos in transformers universes? Unicron! So while he didn't build life by hand like Primus, he, with his "powers" created some life without even knowing! This aligns with him bein Earth in TFP too.

Headcanons abt the brothers, and their creations: 

The brothers: Primus always put duty, and protecting life first, so when he could't fight anymore, he created the 13, then the cybertronian race. He is formal and distant (usually), and gives every gift he can to his creations to keep em alive too. As a "parent" he is more of a helicopter-parent, spoils his "kids", yet stays hard to approach. May have regrets, or embarrasment towards them, but rarely hints it if true.

Unicron mosty has no idea about his creations, yet is involved a lot more. Like "father", like "kids", we live by consuming life, there aint no way around it. He gives no gifts, only hardships to survive, and "forge" you. If you want something, you gotta take it yourself. As a "parent" he gives tough love. What does't kill you makes you stronger, and he'll only relent if we can square up with him, so if we can survive him, we can survive anything. He takes time to process having creations, but once he does, proud af dad, loves his chaotic idiots to bits. Would definitely brag, and rub it under his brother's nose every chance he gets.

The creations: Cybertronians were built, given strong armor and weapons, given many gifts and relics, the ability to rough-adapt by transforming, long life, and power. They were told to protect life, they ended up usually doing anything but. Their civilization is stagnant, self repeating, and ends up with an ego and hunger for yet more power, that prevents caring about other species, or straight up hating them. They have a hard time accepting new ideas and often turn to violence and civil war because of this despite being the same culture, with some sub-cultures mixed in. The aversion to the different and the unknown can get so bad, that a whole branch of science can be missing because of it, best example: TFA universe. They seemingly (in universe pov) cannot reproduce without outside help. Their civilization is seemingly always on the brink of total war or starvation, have destroyed their home(s) in war and pollution too. Started out good, ended up destructive.

Humans(& other earthlings) were given nothing, only hardships to survive, and chaos to adapt to. Between the rules of nature and the multitude of chatastrophic events, no creation was spared, but those who survived became tougher. Humans were given nothing free: not the chance to be born, not health, not food, not safety, not weapons, just nothing.  Humans had to become the most enduring mf-ers on the planet to survive (se HFY stories), and only when they had become succesful already to have enough surplus of nutrients for it, could we afford even sentience. Like all earthlings , have short lives, but the ability to reproduce on their own. Independent without direct hands-on divine guidance and help, and capable to live together and cherish eachother despite entirely different worldwievs. Started out horribly, but always sought to better and humble themselves, and eventually took responsibility to take care of other life without being asked, including the role they evolved into. In TFA famine, homelessness ,or war aint an issue anymore for example. Everywhere people always double-check their leaders, and try to avoid conflict if possible. Started out rocky and destructive, ended up good.

Summary: Both creations reflect the part of their creator, that they are not often seen as, and fit together like yin, and yang. This would also explain their constant encounters, and differences. Like warped mirrors of their respective sides.

Idea for side-story(mostly TFA, but can be used elsewhere): Unicron having his scouts either deserted, or away, and him being still not well enough to move his own body yet this early, creates an avatar to blend in, and scout instead. He hears about the commotion on cybertron and diguises as an autobot. He is a grumpy punk old man usually. Thus he meets some humans stationed on cybertron for looking after Sari, or in other important roles. Humans are salty about the general treatment and situation. They flock to the Optimus crew or older bots when available, as they tend to be chill. This includes him, whom they favour most due to supporting them having an attitude back, and instantly connect in that. They adopt him as the local dad/old dude figure, like father, like kids. Shenanigans and hilarity ensues.

Side-story tldr: Organics in general, especially humans are regarded as Unicron's unholy spawn out of ego, turns out the second one is right but kind of wholesome way. Unicron finally gets his own gaggle of loving spawn, and they up to no good together. Possible character development, and funny stuff. Humans end up as the "equivalent" of succubi, more funny, wholesome, and lewd, as opposed to the usual killy followers and death-knights. Imagine the pranks, lol !

ps: (sorry for any bad grammar if there's any)  clothing and prev lewd headcanons fit right in here too ;) 

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My dear Mochifrog, you have no idea how badly I wish to read this fic as a full fledged project, and all the more if it does involves the Transformers Clothing Kink

[colder-yet-colder-comic]

a quick few things about this comic, think of it like an faq except nobody asked. if you have any additional questions please leave them in the comments, i’ll try my best to answer.

(for all future purposes i’ll be calling doyouheartthunder Nathan because its easier to type)

Q: How frequently will this update?

A: Whenever I finish a chapter I’ll post it, I’ll take a guess of 2-3 weeks between chapters, but it’ll vary depending on my motivation and personal life. I don’t really keep schedules well, so don’t expect real consistency.

Q: Are you associated with doyouheartthunder?

A: I’ve gotten permission from him to make this comic, but besides that he has no influence on the comic. I haven’t talked too much with him about it besides the general ‘hey can I do this?’ thing. So… sort of???

Q: How long will the chapters be, and will you cut out things or change dialogue?

A: Some things are going to be really hard to adapt from written to visual mediums, so some elements will have to be changed or cut out. I’ll also probably edit dialogue to be shorter but I’ll try me hardest to make the tone and message the same. Chapter length varies depending on how much movement, dialogue, etc is there. So far chapter 1 is about 12 pages, and some early sketches I did for later chapters tend to range from 5 or 6 for the shorter ones to 13 for the really long ones. I’m less concerned with page amount and more with keeping the pacing intact and giving a faithful adaptation, so like I said, don’t expect consistency.

Q: What are some things we should expect from it visually?

A: I’ve never done a long-form comic before, nor am I very good at keeping consistency. This is a learning experience for me and I mostly took up the project to improve on some things. Some things like character design will also probably change, as sometimes while I work I think, ‘wow, this would be a cool element to change or add!’ and I see what sticks. Backgrounds are going to be mostly monochromatic except for in certain instances. I’ve drawn backgrounds for later chapters where I fully colored them and those are certainly going to stay. They’re also going to be mostly lineless. My style has also been developing over time so the comic will certainly change with it, even though I have made a basic style guide for things like line thickness and such. I don’t want it to stay stagnant and it will probably change with me.

Q: Are you going to do comics for later fics in the Snow Angels series?

A: That depends on how I’m feeling when I finish this one and if Nathan is okay with it! I like the idea with it but I have a lot of struggle sticking with one thing and seeing it through, and this comic will probably leave me drained by the end. If/when I finish this, I’m probably going to take a long break before I consider getting permission to work on the sequel.

Q: Is this official?

A: Sort of..? It really depends what you qualify as official. It is in the sense that I have permission from Nathan to make it, but as stated above, he has no influence over the comic. It’s less of an official adaptation and more of a love letter. Also this is Deltarune fanfiction so official is a pretty big word to use.

Q: When will chapter 1 be posted?

A: 2-3 days hopefully, depending on how much work I can get done in that time. Most of the pages for chapter 1 are done, I just need to make some finishing touches on most of it, as well as redoing one page that is barely started. That’s going to take up the bulk of that time. It’s coming soon, though!!!

and thats about it! if you have any other questions, throw them at me in the comments. i’ll answer them all as best i can!!

[blindingdutchy]

lamentation | FOUR

{peter parker x fem!reader AU}

based on All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

SERIES MASTERLIST

word count: 3,907

warnings: angst, talk of death/tragedy, a little fluff

18+!!! minors stay away

At school the following week you were more than a little embarrassed. Peter Parker had seen you outside of school twice, and both times you'd been a crying, hysterical mess. Granted, you were a hysterical mess all the time anymore, but you usually kept that very well suppressed. Then along came Peter, and suddenly there was another person outside of your family who knew just how messed up you were.

He didn't mention it, which you were thankful for. You could see that he was concerned, though, with the way his eyes seemed to linger on you during every silence. His worry and pity only made you more resentful of the things you had shown him.

You'd shown up to school the morning after he showed up in your room, and you weren't at all surprised to see him lingering by your locker with an antsy jitter as he rocked back and forth on his feet. What had surprised you, though, was the fact that once he saw you were present he simply nodded at you and walked away. Was that his idea of a truce? An understanding?

Whatever it was, you had been thankful for it. The last thing you had wanted that morning was to talk to Peter, knowing he'd certainly want to talk about the events of the night, and you were relieved to get a little break from his constant presence. He still sat by you in classes, but he didn't pester with you his usual chatter, nor did he follow you to your locker even once.

The trend had continued for most of the week, and you had to admit you were starting to feel a little more isolated without his overbearing company. It was strange--you almost, emphasis on almost, missed him. You'd grown used to ignoring his borderline stalker-like tendencies, and now without him around to ignore, you felt lonely. Lonelier than you already had been, anyways.

At home, things were just as cold and distant. Your mother was in a slump again following your outburst at dinner, and you were beating yourself up over it endlessly. She'd been doing good, finally, and you'd just had to have gone and ruined all of her progress.

She'd been holed up in her bedroom ever since that evening. Not even your father was able to get her to let him in, and in turn he was banished to the sofa night after night. As such, you were feeling the ice from your mother and your father alike. You couldn't blame him, really, because the sofa was definitely not the most comfortable for sleeping.

It felt a little like your life was falling apart all over again since your birthday. The childish, bitter part of you wanted to blame Peter, because it would have been so easy to blame the only thing that had changed in your life, but you knew better. It was you. You were the cause for everything that was going wrong, and you didn't know how to stop it.

Why couldn't you just be better? The whole world was moving on, making progress, and yet you were stagnant. You didn't understand why you couldn't let go of all the heavy things holding you down, holding you back, but you just couldn't. Grieving her wasn't getting easier, and you didn't know how to try and make that change.

"Are you alright?"

Startled by the sudden return of Peter's voice, you jumped in your seat and blinked at him in surprise. It had been such a long week of near radio silence from him that you were shocked to be acknowledged by him, despite the fact that you'd been sitting beside him for the entirety of your Speech class. You'd almost started to wonder if maybe he was ignoring you, though you didn't exactly try to talk to him either.

Quietly, you mumbled, "Not really, but that's normal these days."

It was only then that you realized class was over, students packing up and filing out of the classroom eagerly in anticipation of the weekend. You'd been far more spaced out than you had thought--it felt like just moments ago you were sitting down and waiting for class to begin. You awkwardly began to pack up your untouched classwork and Peter did the same, neither of you quite sure what to say to the other.

Ever since she died, you had an uncanny ability to make any and every situation uncomfortable without really trying. It started with your inability to contain your emotions in response to the thousands of condolences you received over those first few days, and then the more you secluded yourself it only got worse. People looked at you strangely and whispered when they thought you couldn't hear them. They thought you were a ticking time bomb, and in a sense they were correct.

Maybe that was the reason you weren't quite as adamant about pushing Peter away as you were others. He didn't look at you that way, nor did he whisper hushed words about you that would surely make your ears burn when you overheard. Both times that he had seen you in a horrible state, he'd only looked at you with concern and worry. Not once had you seen him give you those all too familiar apprehensive stares, and you were grateful for it.

Realizing you were moving at a strangely slow pace, and Peter was anxiously waiting for you to finish, you cleared your throat and muttered, "Do you want to start the project tomorrow? Or tonight, if you're not busy."

"Um," Peter stammered, not bothering to hide his surprise at your offer, "sure. Tonight is fine if--if that's okay with you."

The two of you stared at each other in silence for a moment, neither of you quite comfortable with the sudden change in atmosphere. Zipping your backpack, you stated, "Yeah, great."

"Great!" Peter echoed, and you both turned and hurried away from each other in discomfort.

When you told your father that Peter Parker was coming over that night you weren't entirely sure what to expect. The reaction you received, however was so far off your radar it scared you a little. He'd nearly wept with joy, kissing your cheek and saying he was proud of you for making friends again, to which you retorted Peter wasn't your friend.

He could tell it was a lie, despite the fact that under normal circumstances Peter definitely wouldn't have been considered a friend. For you, now and after everything you'd been through, he was the closest thing you had to a friend, though. So, you resisted the urge to fight your father on the premise and let him run off to boast to your mother about it.

Even if you felt like you weren't making progress, it couldn't hurt to let your parents think that you were. You were trying, anyways, so you didn't feel quite as guilty about letting them read too much into things. You just hoped that they didn't get their hopes up too high, because there was still time for you to mess things up like you always did.

You spent the afternoon cleaning your room and wallowing in your anxiety. The project was something you were dreading starting, mostly because you knew it would bring up all sorts of negative memories and emotions for you, but also because you feared what Peter would think of you. Would he judge you for your opinions? Would he think you were bitter and ridiculous?

For awhile you contemplated all the ways you could try and lie to appease him, thinking of ways to keep your composure well enough to debate on behalf of superheroes. In the end, though, you knew it was impossible. Arguing against the Avengers was going to be hard enough in itself, let alone trying to pretend you were in favor of them. Was it too late to ask for an alternate assignment?

Peter Parker: hey i'm on my way

Peter Parker: if that's okay. if you're busy that's fine too

It was definitely too late to ask for an alternate assignment, and as you typed out your response you decided it was time for you to finally start trying to do better. You'd wished for things to be easier, to be better, for so long, yet you'd never put in any of the work to make it happen. It was time for that to change. You were going to do the project, fight your stance to Peter, and try your best to not ruin his opinion of you completely in the process.

You: yeah that's fine

You: my mom says you can stay for dinner

You: if you want... if not that's cool you probably have other things to do

Okay, you were definitely biting off more than you could chew. Reading over your awkward texts to Peter made you cringe in a bad way, and you felt nauseous with embarrassment. It was so, so unbelievably hard trying to be approachable after you'd spent the past year pushing everyone away. The fear of him rejecting you was sending shockwaves through your entire body, tingling your skin all the way to the tips of your toes.

To your relief, Peter responded to let you know he was okay with staying for dinner, and informed you that he was on his way. You shot off a remark about using the door this time, and then promptly threw your phone away in shame. What if he thought you were being rude instead of joking? Or worse, what if he knew you were joking and thought it was stupid? Socializing was a real drain on your energy.

By the time Peter arrived with a timid knock on your bedroom door, followed by your mother's coo, "Oh, honey, just go on in. She's never doing anything," you had successfully stressed yourself into oblivion. You were so consumed by your thoughts you almost didn't notice her throwing open your door with a beaming grin, but the sound of Peter's uncomfortable laughter snapped you out of your daze.

"Uh, hi." you squeaked, suddenly extremely self conscious of your bedroom. He'd seen it before, obviously, but this time it was actually swathed in lamp light and the evening sun. "You can sit."

Peter stood in silence, studying your room with an indecipherable look on his face for a long moment. "It's nice in here." he finally stated, dropping his backpack and letting that easy grin slip across his lips for the first time in the past week. It was incredibly relieving to see it, and you even found yourself relaxing a little.

He sat on the edge of your bed and both of you turned to your mother curiously as she continued to stand in your doorway with a tearful smile. Jumping in shock, she gasped, "Oh, right, right. I'll just be downstairs if you need anything. It was lovely to meet you, Peter."

With one last lingering gaze, your mother backed out of the room and shut the door. That was how you knew this was a special occasion in her eyes--what sane mother would ever shut her teenage daughter in a bedroom with a teenage boy willingly? It had been a long while since you'd genuinely felt embarrassed, but you couldn't help but to groan and cover your face at the whole situation.

Peter, however, seemed thoroughly amused by everything. "Your mom is a lot like my Aunt May." he mused, twinkling brown eyes trailing over every inch of your room, "Your room is huge. I think I could fit my entire bedroom in here three times and still have extra space."

"I used to share it with my sister."

He paled at your statement and stuttered, "Oh, shit, I'm so--I'm so sorry. I didn't know--"

"Peter, it's fine." you interrupted his frantic apology, and for what felt like the first time ever, you meant it.

It was fine. You didn't feel angry or bitter about the reminder of her disappearance from your life, and it was strange to you. You liked it, though, and it felt nice to talk about her without being bogged down by thousands of horrible thoughts and feelings.

Relaxing only slightly at your reassurance, Peter looked at you wearily as if he expected you to start crying or lash out at him. To his, and your own, surprise you gave a small smile. That still felt wrong; it didn't come very naturally to you anymore, but Peter seemed mesmerized by it none the less.

The sight of your permanent frown disappearing from your face gave him the confidence to move on from the uncomfortable topic, it seemed, because he grinned back and moved to unzip his backpack. "Okay, so, first thing's first--have you read the outline for the project? It's ridiculously broad and I've been struggling to think of any ideas to make our speech unique." he rambled, rifling through the crumpled mess of papers he retrieved from his bag until he finally found what he was looking for.

You slid your smooth, unwrinkled copy across the bed and asked, "Shouldn't we start with which stance we're taking?"

Peter blinked at you, and you tensed in preparation for the argument that was about to ensue. "What do you mean? I thought it was just a given that we were arguing in favor of the Avengers?" he questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "I mean, I'm pretty sure everyone is going to."

"I wanted to argue in opposition, actually." you muttered, pursing your lips. "That could be what makes ours stand out, you know?"

His lips opened and closed like a fish for a few moments as he clearly struggled to formulate words, but eventually he sputtered, "Is that the only reason why? I don't know if I can argue against myself, considering I kind of am an Avenger."

You chewed at the inside of your cheek, already wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. Letting Peter into your space, into your life, was already hard enough--adding conflict into the mix only made your heart rate pick up and your hands start to sweat. "I don't agree with the Avengers, no, but I have reasons. So, maybe you feel weird arguing against yourself, but I feel just as weird arguing in favor of something I don't agree with." you finally explained, and Peter's eyes widened incredulously.

"Why don't you like the Avengers?"

You nearly scoffed at the way he posed the question, as if he were asking you why you weren't a fan of a specific sports team. "I don't agree with them, there's a difference." you stated bluntly.

Peter wiped his palms on his jeans tensely, just as you did the same, and repeated, "Why, though? What's not to agree with? They--they've saved the world over and over again, isn't that impossible to not agree with?"

"At what cost, though?" you retorted, "Have you paid any mind to all the things they've destroyed? How many lives they've ended, or destroyed, in the midst of their heroic deeds?"

He seemed to get riled up by the bitter way you spat out the word heroic and scoffed, "Okay, but that doesn't just happen with the Avengers. The police do all of that and more on a much more frequent basis."

You raised your eyebrows challengingly, though you had to admit it was a fair counter argument. Clicking your tongue, you rebutted, "That's true, but at least sometimes there are consequences for that! With people like the Avengers there are no consequences. There's no justice, no opposition, nothing! They can do whatever they want, whenever they want, no matter who gets hurt in the process."

Peter stood from your bed abruptly, raking a hand through his hair and pacing around your room with red cheeks. You could tell very well that he was trying to control his temper, though he was about as intimidating as a mouse, and you took deep breathes yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was to make him angry with you, but you weren't willing to back down about how you felt.

Inhaling slowly, he turned to you once again and said, "There are consequences. Don't you remember the Sokovia Accords? That whole fiasco was because of people who felt like you do."

The Sokovia Accords were a sham in your eyes. You remembered well when they had come about, and it seemed that they had changed nothing. For awhile most of the Avengers had gone off the grid, choosing to be international fugitives rather than sign, until the world needed them again. When Thanos had tried to wipe out half of all life in the universe they'd all come out of the woodwork again to save the day, and afterward it seemed as if all was forgotten.

There was no punishment for Captain America, Black Widow, none of them. They stopped another world ending event, causing plenty of damage in the process, and in turn were regarded as godly heroes once again. You sometimes wondered if the Accords were even a thing anymore.

"They felt that way for good reason!" you snapped before clearing your throat and trying to calm down again, "The Avengers have caused just as much devastation as they've prevented, maybe even more."

Peter jumped at your loud tone and snapped back, "What would you even know about it? I see it first hand every time, remember, so I know what happens! What do you know?"

"They killed my sister, did you know that?" you shouted, and he froze in place with wide eyes and parted lips, "Yeah, you know what happens, right? Well then you should know that I know damn well the damage the Avengers can do."

He sat back down on your bed wordlessly, watching you hesitantly as you tugged at a loose thread on your blanket anxiously. "I didn't know that, (Y/N)," he sighed, "I'm really sorry."

You didn't say anything for a long while, not trusting your voice to come out steady as you tried to hold back tears and also keep your temper in line. Talking about your sister's death wasn't something you really did, mostly because you knew it would cause you to break down. It hurt too much to think of it, let alone speak the words out loud.

But, as Peter continued to watch you as if expecting you to explode, you tried your best, "It was my fault. If it weren't for me we wouldn't have been at the park, and she--and she wouldn't have had to wait for me."

Peter reached out and gripped your hand firmly in his, causing you to momentarily short circuit in shock. You internally battled the conflicting urges to pull away or cling to him, but eventually you relaxed into the contact. Gently grasping his hand back, you let out a shaky breathe you hadn't realized you'd been holding.

It was grounding having his hand in yours. You didn't feel like you were at risk of drifting away into the void like you usually did; with his hand touching you, it felt as if you had a secure connection to the world again. It was a feeling you never wanted to lose again.

"It wasn't your fault, (Y/N)," he soothed, but you shook your head stubbornly.

Your eyes burned as you continued, "It was! She wanted to go shopping but I begged her to come to the park with me instead. I wanted to take some photos, and she'd argued with me for so long until she finally caved. A little bit after we got there we heard this really loud explosion, and I just--I just froze, and I..."

The words seemed to lodge in your throat, and your voice came out hoarse as you forced them out, "I froze staring up at Iron Man blasting some alien through the air, so stupidly shocked I didn't notice the building collapsing until she pushed me out of the way. I tried to grab her, but it was too late! A bunch of bricks hit her and--"

"Hey, hey, you don't have to tell me." Peter hushed you, gripping your hand tighter and scooting so close to you that his leg was pressed up against yours. Somehow the increased contact and warmth caused you to break, and suddenly you were crying in front of Peter Parker for the third time. You were three for three on crying in his presence, a thought that made you cry harder in embarrassment.

He didn't seem to care at all, though, as he took you by surprise and hugged you. "He just flew right by us. He didn't even stop when I screamed for help." you croaked, clutching Peter's shirt tightly in your fists as he held you, "I hate them. I hate them so much because it should be their fault, but I just keep blaming myself!"

You really hoped your mother wasn't eavesdropping, because she'd surely have wanted to talk to you about everything later. In all the time that had passed since your sister's death, you hadn't once retold the events of that day. You'd never spoken a single word about it, not even to the police who questioned you following the incident.

No matter how hard your parents had urged you to talk about it, or your therapist, you hadn't ever budged. It was your burden to bear, and you had never felt the desire or the strength to impart that load unto anyone else. Peter somehow broke down all of your walls without even trying, though, and it felt like a breathe of fresh air to finally get it all off of your chest.

There was no explanation for why he seemed to get you to do all the things you swore you never would without a word. It made no sense at all, and it scared you a lot, but you liked it. You craved the connection he gave you. Already, after such a short amount of time, you needed it. It would surely have crushed you if he decided not to care.

As your crying slowly subsided, Peter rubbed your back timidly and comforted, "It wasn't your fault, (Y/N), I mean it. It was just a freak thing, and you couldn't have done anything to stop it--sometimes bad things just happen, and they're inevitable."

"But, if I had just--"

He cut you off, "No, no buts. It wasn't your fault and you couldn't have prevented it. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, okay? It wasn't my fault, and it wasn't your fault either."

You wanted to ask him how he could possibly know what you felt, or what he meant by saying it wasn't his fault, but it wasn't the right time. Pulling away and wiping your eyes, you sniffled, "I really need to stop crying in front of you. You're like an onion, you know? I just can't stop crying when you're around me."

Peter laughed loudly at your weak joke, and you couldn't fight back the quiet giggle the escaped your lips too. You hadn't laughed, genuinely laughed, in so long. "I like your laugh," he breathed, and your stomach erupted in the strangest fluttery sensation, "I like it a lot. You should never stop laughing."

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[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part eight

It seems that Harry feels the same, because she can hear him replying, “Of course I didn’t forget your birthday! How about you turn the telly on and wait for me, yeah? I’ll cook you my famous eggy bread and we’ll kick off your big day properly.”

Ryan hears Jackson squeal excitedly and she almost wishes she wasn’t buried underneath Harry’s duvet so that she could see his gleaming grin. And just before she can hear the door shut, Jackson asks, “Can we still invite Ryan and Luna to my party?”

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*** In Which Five is a Big Number

“Oh my god, Ryan.”

Ryan’s almost positive there’s no better sound than Harry groaning her name. It’s somehow scratchy yet completely audible, and Ryan can hear the little breathy sounds in between each syllable. It’s a juxtaposition of breathlessness and clear-cut clarity, and when her name falls off his lips like a secret, she feels special that it’s only for her ears to hear.

The tip of her nose tickles the thin patch of hair at the bottom of his naval, and when she feels him hit the back of her throat and tears start to spring from her eyes, he lets out another guttural “Christ, Ryan,” and she knows he’s very close to falling apart.

They’ve spent the past two months getting acquainted with each other’s bodies. After Harry finally kissed Ryan in her living room, he carried her over to the couch and they snogged like teenagers—all bitten lips and roaming tongues, knocking teeth and wandering hands. When Ryan started rutting against his thigh and the tightness in Harry’s pants became unbearable, they separated and decided to take things slow.

But that was two months ago. Now, if things went any slower, they’d be stagnant.

Those first three weeks they kissed so much that Ryan’s jaw ached and Harry’s lips were permanently raw. He wanted to take things slow because he assumed Ryan would grow overwhelmed with each next step they took. But one night after Ryan came over for dinner and pretended to say goodnight to Jackson, she waited in the hallway until Harry was certain Jackson was down for the night, and when his front door ripped open and his hands grasped her arms, he dragged her onto his couch and kissed her like he did every other night before that. 

But Ryan was growing restless, and while she thought it was admirable the way Harry wanted to be patient with her, she was practically losing her mind with the way his hands stayed planted on her ass and never went anywhere else, the way his lips kissed every inch of her skin above the neckline of her shirt, the way she would be begging for more and Harry wouldn’t oblige. 

Even though Ryan could barely look at Harry those first two months they were tiptoeing around each other, she knew that right now—with his mouth licking at the underside of her jaw and his hands squeezing the thick fleshy parts of her ass—she was going to fucking lose it if he didn’t do anything more.

Because they’ve finally figured it out. The unanswered questions that were plaguing them in the beginning have slowly been answered with every moment she spends with him. The lingering gazes and unknown feelings finally meant something to both of them. But now—now that she’s had a taste and gotten a glimpse of what Harry could do to her, she’s practically gone crazy thinking about it all. 

Ryan’s never been more sure of one thing in her entire life. And it’s that if she and Harry go any slower, she’ll burst.

So in a blind moment of bravery, Ryan reached down between the pair of them and palmed the growing bulge in his trousers. His mouth ripped from her skin and his head fell back against the armrest of his leather couch, a deep moan working its way through his throat. And when it finally exploded from his parted cherry lips, Ryan could feel herself freefalling, losing sight of everything in front of her and crashing aimlessly below.

“Shit, Ryan.” His voice was strained and Ryan loved every second of it, and before she could have a conscious thought of what she was actually doing, her hands undid the black button with ease and her tiny fingers worked their way through his zipper, and suddenly she was reaching into his briefs and feeling him completely. 

That was the first time she ever heard Harry groan like that, and Ryan’s almost positive she’s been addicted to the sound ever since.

That first night on Harry’s brown leather couch started a series of sneaking in and out of each other’s flats during all hours of the day just to get a piece of the other. Harry would slip out of his own when Jackson was down for his afternoon kip, opening Ryan’s front door and tasting her until he heard his mobile buzz with the sounds of Jackson’s stirrings. He’d sneak out just as quickly as he came, leaving her with a mouth-tingling kiss and the overwhelming urge of wanting more more more. 

Ryan would come over for dinner almost every other night, keeping the hidden touches and stolen kisses between the two of them without Jackson truly understanding what was happening. And when it was time for Jackson to go to bed, she’d say her goodbyes and wait for Harry in the hallway until his grabby hands were on her own, dragging her back inside. They’d fool around in Harry’s bedroom quietly, swallowing each other’s giggles and grinning whenever stars exploded behind their eyelids. 

Harry knew that if he dragged his teeth around Ryan’s earlobe she’d practically become a writhing mess below him. Ryan knew that if she wrapped a dainty hand around the column of Harry’s neck and licked at the piece of skin where his collarbone met his shoulder, his eyes would roll in the back of his head. Harry knew that Ryan was shy whenever he’d start kissing at the skin just underneath her belly button, simultaneously making sure that his green eyes never left her brown ones—because direct eye contact while he was lapping at the most sensitive parts of her body made her want to look at the ceiling or close her eyes tightly. But when they would switch positions and Ryan was the one in between Harry’s legs, she knew that sneaking a glance up at him while her mouth was around him was the exact thing that would bring him over the edge.

And she loved every second of it. She loved being the person bringing somebody like Harry to his end, watching the way his cheeks flushed a deep red color and his mouth opened widely, the way his chest would constrict and his hands would grip the closest thing to him—which most of the time was Ryan’s hips that she happily allowed him to bruise—the way his eyes would shut at the actual last moment, making sure to remember the way everything looked around him before his vision blurred with desire and his body vibrated, completely spent. And when it was all over and he would breathe deeply, a quiet hum resonated through his body that made Ryan’s heart flutter and her body wrap around his own like two magnets with opposite polarities. 

Harry loved how confident Ryan grew around him in these moments. While her cheeks still tinged pink whenever he would compliment her as she removed a layer of clothing, she knew exactly what she wanted and felt comfortable enough to tell him. She would tell him that she liked when he gripped her hair, she would tell him that she liked when he ran his tongue down the front of her body, she would tell him that when he gripped her too hard at times that she didn’t really mind it—in fact, she enjoyed it, she wanted it. And with each time they explored a new part of one another, she would grow much more at ease, until she was the one encouraging him to try new things.

And he was fucking addicted. 

Ryan tried not to make a habit out of staying over, because explaining to Jackson what was going on while she was trying to sneak out of Harry’s bedroom wearing one of his obnoxious graphic tees was completely mind-boggling to her. She didn’t want to make Jackson feel uncomfortable—and while Harry and Ryan both knew that they had to eventually tell Jackson about their relationship, sneaking around and keeping things just between the two of them has made everything that much easier. Because everything felt new and different, and bursting that bubble just as they were exploring one another seemed a bit disheartening.

Which is why when Ryan feels Harry’s hands gripping the base of her neck while he tries his hardest to subdue another groan, she’s immediately brought back to the present. The present— which consists of her sucking Harry off under the covers of his charcoal-colored duvet in the early hours of the morning, wearing nothing except one of his bright jumpers with vibrant lettering and images of kittens littering the front.

And just before he grips her hair harder and is practically careening towards his end, she’s surprised when she can hear the excited pitter-patter of bare feet slapping against hardwood over Harry’s strangled moans.

Before she can even scold herself for accidentally spending another night in Harry’s sheets, his gold bedroom doorknob begins to wiggle. All at once, Ryan tears her mouth away from Harry’s twitching length, muttering a frantic “shit!” from her position underneath the duvet cover. The door springs open before she can even contemplate hiding inside the attached en-suite, and suddenly Ryan finds herself in a position that’s possibly more humiliating than getting rug burn in front of her attractive neighbor almost four months ago—face squished against Harry’s bare stomach, chest flat against his thighs, and legs stretched out around his own, completely buried underneath the duvet.

Harry sits up gently, making sure Ryan’s body is flat against his own and hidden underneath the darkness of his room. “Hey—hi! Bubs, uh, what’s up?” His voice comes out extremely high pitched, and Ryan can’t tell if it’s from the fact that they were nearly caught in a compromising position by his four-year-old son, or from the fact that he was seconds away from an orgasm that never came.

“Daddy! It’s my birthday! Why are you still in bed? We have to celebrate me!”

Scratch that. Five-year-old son.

Without thinking, Ryan pinches the extra skin around Harry’s waist, causing him to jolt upwards in shock. Her brain instantly starts whirring, working in overdrive to try and remember if Harry had mentioned his son’s fifth birthday to her at all during these past few weeks. And when she can’t think of anything, Ryan feels herself frowning against the rigid muscles of Harry’s abdominals, immediately feeling bad about overlooking this important occasion.

It seems that Harry feels the same, because she can hear him replying, “Of course I didn’t forget your birthday! How about you turn the telly on and wait for me, yeah? I’ll cook you my famous eggy bread and we’ll kick off your celebration properly.”

Ryan hears Jackson squeal excitedly and she almost wishes she wasn’t buried underneath Harry’s duvet so that she could see his gleaming grin. And just before she can hear the door shut, Jackson asks, “Can we still invite Ryan and Luna to my party?”

Ryan bites her lower lip to try and hide the smile stretching across her face. She wishes that Jackson already knew about their relationship, because if he did, she’d rip the duvet off of the bed and scoop him up in the biggest hug she could muster, tickling his sides until his arms were wrapped around her neck and she could carry him into the kitchen, waiting patiently for Harry to cook them both his famous eggy bread. 

But unfortunately, she’s supposed to be hidden, and that looming thought turns her concealed smile into a heavy frown. Somehow Harry can sense it, and before their cover gets blown, he tells Jackson, “Of course they can come. Why don’t you grab the invitation we started yesterday and finish decorating it. We can drop it off after brekkie, sound good, Bubs?”

Jackson must have nodded appreciatively, because suddenly Harry’s bedroom door clicks shut and the charcoal-colored duvet is thrown to the bottom of his mattress. Ryan looks up at him with wide eyes, her lower lip bitten and her eyes tinged with sadness.

“We’re dickheads, huh?” Ryan offers, clambering off the bed and trying to locate her joggers on his carpeted flooring. 

Harry watches her, tucking his erection uncomfortably into his tight briefs and selfishly wishing his son had better timing.

“Don’t say that. Just got carried away, is all,” Harry offers lamely, running an exasperated hand through his messy hair when he notices Ryan practically fully dressed in front of him.

“We need to tell him, Harry. He’s got to know something, considering I’ve been going to the park with you guys and joining you for dinner almost every other evening.” Ryan keeps her voice down as she exchanges Harry’s obnoxious jumper for her cardigan and vest combination she showed up here in the night before.

Harry nods, offering, “We’ll tell him. Tonight, I promise. Can you just—just come here, please?” He’s growing dizzy watching her run around his bedroom grabbing her discarded items, and all he wants is to have her close to him so that they can potentially finish what they started moments ago. 

Ryan can tell from the look in his eyes that he’s desperate for her touch. And when she rejoins him on the bed, straddling his thin waist and wrapping her arms around his neck in a quick cuddle, her chest completely flat against his own, she wishes now more than ever that they could wake up every morning just like this.

She lifts her head from the crook of his neck and plants a quick kiss to his temple, before untangling herself from his body and slipping her trainers on her feet. “You’ve got a birthday boy to entertain,” Ryan mutters with a wink.

Harry rolls his eyes from his position on the bed, moaning in frustration when the sudden shift of his body makes his length twitch unforgivably. “How am I supposed to cook with a full stiffy? I’m in pain here, babe.”

Ryan just snickers before throwing Harry the shorts and hoodie he wore last night. “Have a quick wank in the shower, you’ll be sorted in no time.”

“You’re cruel,” Harry complains, slipping the clothes on and adjusting his shorts so that his erection wasn’t so painfully obvious.

“I’ll see you later, okay? We’ll finish this properly,” Ryan offers, snaking her arms around his waist when she notices the smirk threaten to break across his face. His strong arms wrap around her middle, and Harry brings his hand up to wrap his long pointer finger around a stray piece of Ryan’s hair that fell in front of her line of vision. 

“Properly, yeah?” He teases, bringing her closer so that the tips of their noses are brushing against one another. 

Ryan nods with a pretty smirk covering her lips. “Maybe daddy will get a present, too.” Harry drops his forehead against hers, puffing out a frustrated breath that fans against her cheeks. 

“You’re killing me, baby,” he whispers against her mouth, before pressing his lips against hers with a forceful kiss. Ryan’s arms tighten around his body, and when she feels his tongue prod against her lower lip, she backs away, knowing they need to reign it in before they get too lost in one another.

“Later, I promise,” Ryan says, hinting at the one barrier that they haven’t crossed yet, praying that Harry understands what she’s implying.

And when his eyes light up wickedly and he gives her one last toe-curling kiss, she’s almost certain that he knows exactly what she’s talking about. 

He opens his bedroom door and heads out into the hallway first, making sure Jackson isn’t lingering in the bathroom or kitchen as they pass. When they encroach upon his position in the living room—telly blasting Paw Patrol as he lays on the rug with his tummy on the shag carpeting, flannel-clad feet bent behind him as his chin rests against his opened palms comfortably—Ryan gives Harry’s waist one last squeeze before she slips out of the entranceway and into the hallway undetected. 

When Ryan enters her own flat and greets Luna with a sleepy smile, she immediately heads to her bathroom and turns the shower on. As she’s undressing, Ryan peeks at her reflection in the mirror and almost doesn’t recognize the woman looking back at her.

This version has messy hair tangled at the back of her neck from greedy hands knotting themselves through the tendrils. This version has flushed cheeks—but not in the way she’s grown accustomed to. No, this version’s cheeks are flushed because she’s excited, she’s thrilled, she’s exerted her sexual prowess on a deserving man and she’s in awe of the way she can make him practically fall to his knees in front of her, begging for more more more.

This version has love bites littering the swells of her breast. And if she squints hard enough, she can make out the dents carved by fingertips across her hips and along her sides, permanent reminders of the way someone else could want her. Could need her.

And when she looks at this version’s face and takes in her swollen lips from overuse, the bags under her eyes from choosing to stay awake and fool around with her boyfriend instead of choosing to sleep, the smile that seems to constantly grace her lips whenever she leaves Harry’s presence—Ryan finds that she doesn’t want to look away. 

She wants to stare at it. She wants to remember it. She wants it to consume her.

Comfortableness is a look Ryan never thought would suit her, and with each day she lets her walls fall down, she falls more in love with the person she’s becoming. Someone who is confident, someone who no longer lets her social anxiety rule her life, someone who is finally happy with where she is at.

Because falling in love and feeling free somehow coincide with one another. And as Ryan lets the hot water seep into her skin, she knows now that this is where she’s meant to be. 

***

“Fiona, for the hundredth time, I’m not describing Harry’s dick to you over the phone,” Ryan harrumphs through her mobile, reaching for the emerald green wrapping paper and unrolling a significant portion to begin wrapping Jackson’s birthday present.

“That’s not fair, Ry! I’ve gone into exquisite detail about Roger’s!” Fiona exclaims back, pouting dramatically from her position leaned up on the coffee table of Ryan’s mobile.

Ryan rolls her eyes before reaching for the scissors. “Once again, that information was unsolicited.”

“Ugh!” Ryan giggles from her position on the floor of her living room, folding up the edges and covering her gift with the wrapping paper. “I can’t wait until this lockdown is over so I can come by and slap you upside the head.”

“Since when have you become so violent?” Ryan asks, securing the wrapping paper with scotch tape.

“Since my best mate won’t tell me about her apparent dazzling sex life!” 

Ryan puts the wrapped gift to the side and rests both elbows on the coffee table with her back to the juniper couch. Her arms cross at the middle so she can rest her chin on her wrists, giving Fiona her full attention.

“Well, we haven’t really—um, you know,” Ryan begins, her voice nearly a whisper as her cheeks flame in embarrassment. 

“Haven’t really what, Ry?” Fiona presses, always the over-eager one.

Ryan gulps. “Done that.”

Fiona pauses for a moment, observing Ryan through the FaceTime call as she patiently tries to read her friend’s emotions. “You haven’t shagged him yet?” It’s not asked in an accusatory tone, or even a shocked one at that—just complete and utter curiosity. 

Ryan knows Fiona’s testing the waters to see how she feels about it all, and she’s a bit grateful to her friend for not being so glaringly obvious. “Uh, yeah. Haven’t really gotten there yet.”

“Well, do you want to?” Fiona asks.

Ryan looks at her with a dumbfounded expression. “Of course I do, Fee. He’s my bloody boyfriend!” 

“So what’s the problem here, Ry?” Her prodding is nothing but gentle and calculated.

“There’s no problem. It’s just—” Ryan takes a deep breath and sits up straight. “It’s just that I don’t want to muck this up, Fiona. He’s great and he’s kind and he’s so patient with me, it’s incredible. I’ve never had that before. And I love that he’s taking his time—that we’re taking our time. But I just want to be at that next step with him. I want to be able to spend the night without having to sneak out the next morning. I want to feel so comfortable around him that having sex is just easy, and natural, and just—I don’t know if I’m making sense.”

Fiona blinks a few times with a gentle smile on her face, and suddenly Ryan is nervous about her response.

“I’m proud of you, Ryan.” It’s simple, somehow profound in a way, and Ryan just cocks her head to the side in confusion. “Stop looking at me like that, you twit!”

A smile breaks out across Ryan’s face, a laugh ripping through her throat. “You’re just so happy, Ry, and I think a lot of that has come from Harry. Because not only did you find someone who wants to be with you, but you found someone who wants you to be yourself.” Fiona pauses, leaning a bit closer to her screen. “And I think you just need to tell Jackson the truth. It’s not like he’s going to be upset—from what I’ve heard, that boy is already in love with you.”

Before Ryan can reply, she hears the sound of paper scraping against hardwood flooring from the entranceway of her flat, followed by a familiar high-pitched giggle echoing through the hallway. 

She waits a moment before grabbing her mobile and heading towards her front door, bending at the knees when she scoops up the hand-drawn folded invitation on the floor. 

“Should I be concerned?” Fiona asks surreptitiously.

Ryan smiles and shakes her head. “No, no. Luna and I have been formally invited to a very important five-year-old’s birthday party next door.”

She holds up the paper, smiling when she notices the capitalized scrawl at the top of the page, clearly done by somebody who can spell Quarantine Birthday Party without hiccups. Surrounding the handwriting are various images drawn by a five-year-old: a picture of Luna sleeping on Harry’s brown leather couch, two Nerf blasters along the bottom, a pizza with orange squiggles that Ryan can only assume to be bell peppers in the top right corner, and finally Harry Potter along the top. 

Ryan turns on her heel, heading into her kitchen and hanging the invitation up on her refrigerator with a magnet. 

“I’ve got to go, Fee,” Ryan says, slipping her Reebok’s on and gathering Jackson’s presents. 

“Alright, alright. But seriously, everything’s going to be alright, you hear me?” Fiona’s yellow-painted pointer finger is extended to the camera, and Ryan smiles at the sight of her mate trying to be stern.

“Yes, Fee. I know. I’m going to be okay.” Ryan responds, meaning every word. 

Fiona nods and drops her finger, before adding, “And when you finally do shag, I would love a full synopsis on how Harry—”

Ryan hangs up before the blush could coat her cheeks.

Scooping Luna up in one arm and balancing her two gifts in the other, Ryan makes sure the lights are off before slipping out into the hallway and knocking thrice on 4G’s heavy oak door.

Not even a minute goes by before the door is being ripped open, revealing a sight that still manages to bring a smile to Ryan’s face.

It’s Harry—dressed down in a casual pair of brown corduroy trousers paired with a yellow Swim Deep graphic tee that Ryan can’t wait to wear to bed later on in the evening. His hair is held back by a clip, somewhat familiar to the way he wore it the first time they met in the ghastly hallway. And when her eyes finally land on him and he’s grinning like a fool, Ryan can’t help but mirror it, wondering if they’ll always feel like this whenever they see each other.

“Hi,” he says softly, reaching out and grabbing the two wrapped gifts from her hands.

“Hi,” Ryan responds, hoisting Luna further up in her arm so that she’s resting against her chest.

“You look pretty,” Harry says, and when he reaches down to plant his lips on hers, he’s halted in his movements when Jackson appears, practically bubbling with excitement.

“Ryan! Luna! Hi! I’m five!” His chocolate brown curls are in small cloisters framing his face, making his almond-shaped sage eyes twinkle in the light. He’s wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt that Ryan can only assume was gifted to him by his father, and when he skirts by Harry’s leg and stands right before Ryan, she can only grin right back.

“I heard! Happy birthday, champ. How do you feel?” Ryan asks, squatting down on her toes so that she’s eye level with Jackson.

She watches as he contemplates his answer, rubbing a small hand against the fur on Luna’s head. “I feel the same but bigger. I’m happy now that you guys are here, too. Do you think I could show Luna the toys daddy and Auntie Gemma got me? I’ll be quick.”

Ryan nods, handing Luna over to Jackson and watching as he holds her gently and carries her through the living room and down the hallway into his bedroom, chatting with her softly along the way.

When she stands up, Harry’s mouth is on hers greedily, pulling kisses from her lips and wrapping his arms securely around her body as if he was scared she was going to disappear. 

“Mmm, missed you,” he mumbles once they’ve parted. 

“You just saw me a few hours ago, crazy boy,” Ryan responds, tickling her fingers through the curls resting against the nape of his neck.

With one last kiss, he drops his arms. “Miss you whenever you’re not here.”

Ryan smiles shyly, taking a half-step back before Jackson can catch them. “I want to tell him today, Harry. Think he’ll be okay with it?”

Harry looks at Ryan with wide eyes, wondering how she could even fathom Jackson disliking that she was going to be a part of their lives. “Of course he’ll be fine with it. In what world wouldn’t he be?”

Ryan sighs. “I know.”

With one last look, Harry wraps his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and brings her body against his side, cuddling her closely until the tip of her nose was bushing against the veins pulsing in his neck. “I’m gonna miss having you all to myself, though.”

Ryan giggles loudly, hugging Harry closer to her body. “You’ll learn to be a good sharer.”

He pouts dramatically before dragging her into the kitchen, her body still tucked into his side. When she enters the threshold she notices the island countertop is covered with flour—three evenly spherical doughs spread out over top, with ceramic bowls filled with toppings littering the outskirts. 

Ryan leaves his side and looks at him with a quizzical look. “Pizzas on a non-Friday?”

Harry grins. “The birthday boy demanded it! How am I supposed to say no?”

Ryan just smiles before heading over to the sink and washing her hands. When she turns around after drying them on a tea towel, she notices a matching set of white feeding bowls on the tiled flooring to the right of the sink counter. And when she squints, she can make out LUNA etched in black writing along the front. 

“Is this…?”

Before she can get a conscious sentence out, Harry rounds the island countertop and meets her in the middle of the kitchen. When he notices the look on her face is a mixture of complete shock and adoration, he shrugs shyly at her and rubs his sweaty palm against the back of his neck.

“Yeah. Figured if you were going to start spending the night here, Luna could come too so you wouldn’t have to worry about feeding her.”

It’s amazing how a simple notion of purchasing cat feeding bowls for your girlfriend’s kitten can somehow make Ryan’s heart beat wildly against her chest. But it does—and she’s left looking at Harry fondly, wondering if the wicked thumping of her heart and her shortness of breath and the deep look in her eyes can equate to something like love.

“You didn’t have to,” she offers lamely.

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I wanted to.”

The sudden sound of a phone ringing from the living room interrupts Harry and Ryan, and when he cranes his neck and notices the noise coming from the iPad strewn across the brown leather couch, he steps back from Ryan and starts following the ringing.

“It’s probably Rachel calling from New York. Wants to wish Jackson a happy birthday,” Harry explains as he grabs the device and answers the call with a simple greeting.

Ryan backs away and heads down the hallway into Jackson’s room, knocking on the opened door and crossing her arms against her chest when she notices him and Luna sprawled out on his rug as he attempts to build his brand new Lego set.

“Hey, champ. Your mum’s on the phone,” Ryan says from her position leaned against the doorframe. 

“Really? All the way from New York?” Jackson asks, standing up quickly and grabbing Luna so she’s securely nestled under his armpit.

Ryan nods. “Yeah, go say hi, okay? She wants to wish you a happy birthday.”

“Okay, Ryan,” Jackson obliges, hobbling past her figure and heading into the living room to grab the iPad from Harry. Making sure not to eavesdrop, Ryan returns back to the kitchen where Harry is spreading red sauce on all three pizza doughs. 

She watches him, taking in the way his arms strain against the thin material of his shirt deliciously. When he bites his lower lip as he makes a spiral with the tomato sauce, making sure each pizza dough has the same amount, ensuring he left space for the crust to lift at the edges, Ryan tries her hardest to keep her giggles at bay. She finds it incredibly adorable that Harry is such a perfectionist, even without an audience to watch him.

When he lifts his head up after feeling her hot gaze on him, he smiles at her bashfully before cocking his head to the side, gesticulating that he wants her near him. “C’mere and pick your toppings,” he says slowly, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head when she’s settled against his side. 

They work together in comfortable silence, working around each other in grabbing handfuls of cheese, chopped up pieces of vegetables, scattered slices of pepperoni. When Ryan grabs the bowl of pepperoni slices from Harry’s hand, he chuckles to himself before opening his mouth wide, waiting for her to feed him. She giggles at his immaturity, but eventually obliges, popping a slice into his mouth and letting the tips of her fingers graze his lips until he’s left shivering in his place.

Once their pizzas are finished, Harry starts spreading cheese on Jackson’s, before asking Ryan offhandedly, “Do you mind asking him what else he wants on his pizza? I want to pop these into the oven.”

Ryan nods, trying her hardest not to be difficult. But when she cleans off her hands and pops her head into the living room, she’s suddenly flushed with nerves. She feels bad interrupting Jackson’s conversation with his mum, especially on his birthday when she’s practically an entire world away. 

When there’s an appropriate lull in the conversation, Ryan clears her throat and calls out, “Hey, champ? Daddy wants to know what toppings you want for your pizza.”

She watches Jackson’s neck snap in her direction, an excited smile plastering his face. “Ok! Tell him I’ll pick them myself! Here, Ryan,” and with that he jumps off the couch, thrusting the iPad into Ryan’s hands without ending the call or saying goodbye to Rachel on the other end.

“Jackson, wait! Say goodbye to your mum!” After waiting a few seconds and hearing nothing but silence, Ryan sighs to herself before looking down at Rachel’s patient gaze on the screen. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for him to run off like that.”

When Ryan looks at the screen, she’s a bit astonished when she sees Rachel’s mouth begin to form a laugh. It’s the same expression as the photograph of her in Jackson’s room—full lips parted, mouth hanging open slightly, tongue resting against her bottom layer of teeth. She looks pretty with her straight hair clipped against her shoulders, and when Ryan takes in her bare face and fluffy white robe, she suddenly doesn’t feel as nervous around Rachel as she was in the past.

Because for once, she seems like a normal girl. And when her smile doesn’t break and she’s looking at Ryan without dark eyes filled with anger, Ryan’s not quite sure what to make out of it all.

“It’s okay, pizza is probably infinitely more interesting than speaking to his mum at the moment,” Rachel jokes, her laughter floating through the speakers in a way that makes Ryan crack a grin.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Ryan offers, trying to figure out how to end this conversation without making their already awkward relationship any worse.

“That’s nice of you to say,” Rachel responds quietly, tucking a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re there, by the way. You mean more to them than you could ever imagine.”

It’s quiet for a moment as Ryan takes in Rachel’s words. Her simple comment of approval somehow makes the nervous pit in Ryan’s stomach unravel, and suddenly she starts seeing Rachel in a different light. Maybe in the past, she was the villain in Harry’s story, but that doesn’t mean it always has to be that way. Because Ryan finally sees Rachel for who she is—a mum who simply is trying to do her best, no matter how many mistakes she’d made.

“Thanks, Rachel. That means a lot,” Ryan says with a smile.

“No problem. I should probably go, I’ve got a Zoom meeting in an hour. Tell Jackson I said goodbye?” Rachel asks softly.

“Of course. Bye, Rachel,” Ryan says, smiling when Rachel waves just before ending the call.

Ryan locks the device and places it on the end table before rejoining Harry and Jackson in the kitchen. When she pokes her head in and watches Harry appropriately place the pepperoni slices wherever Jackson wants them, she can’t help but smile like a fool at the sight of it all.

And just before Harry asks if Jackson was happy with his pizza, his son quickly adds, “Daddy, can I add bell peppers too? The green and orange ones, like Ryan has,” and Ryan tries her hardest not to gasp.

Harry grins before sprinkling the same amount on Jackson’s pizza, before popping all three into the oven. Ryan decides then to enter the kitchen completely, leaning her torso over the island countertop across from Jackson who’s happily munching on a stay pepperoni slice from his position perched on the leather barstool.

With a quick look at Harry, Ryan wordlessly tells him that now is the best time to tell his son about their relationship. Harry nods before sidling up to Ryan’s side across the counter from Jackson, looking at his son once he’s finished swallowing his snack.

“Hey, Bubs, Ryan and I have something we want to tell you,” Harry starts, watching his son nod happily on the barstool. 

“Okay, daddy,” Jackson says easily, looking between the two adults across from him with wide, inquisitive eyes. 

Harry looks at Ryan before speaking. “You know how we’ve been spending a lot of time with each other lately?” Harry starts, pausing until Jackson’s head starts bobbing up and down. 

“Right, well we’ve decided that we really like each other. And that we want to keep spending time with each other, if that’s okay with you?” It’s quiet as Jackson mulls this over, his hand resting on his chin as he tries to wrap his five-year-old brain around what his father just explained to him.

“Of course that’s okay with me. I like Ryan too, daddy,” Jackson says, his green eyes squinting in confusion as he struggles to understand what Harry is trying to tell him.

“I know that, Bubs. But I like Ryan the way adults like each other, do you know what I’m trying to say to you?” Ryan can tell that Harry is struggling, because his palm flies up to the back of his neck as he rubs it awkwardly, beginning to stumble over his words as his brain begins to work in overdrive.

“I think so,” Jackson starts, placing both palms down on the counter as he cocks his head to the side and looks at both of them from across the counter. “So you like her. And you kiss her, too? The way you used to kiss mummy?”

Ryan looks at Harry with wide eyes, hoping he can salvage the rest of this conversion before it implodes right in front of their faces.

“Yes, but I kiss Ryan because she is daddy’s girlfriend. Do you understand now?” Harry asks.

Jackson nods, looking down at the countertop before lifting his eyes to meet Harry’s. “Yeah, I get it. What does that make mummy, then?”

Ryan blushes, looking at Harry nervously. She can tell that he’s thinking, because how do you explain the difference between a mother and a girlfriend to a five-year-old? 

After a minute passes in silence, Harry clears his throat and says, “Mummy is still your mummy. And well, Ryan is, uh. Ryan is your—”

“—Your friend. Your very best friend, who cares about you and will always be here for you whenever you need me,” Ryan says, interrupting Harry before he stutters all over his words. 

Without thinking, she reaches her hand across the counter and grabs Jackson’s smaller ones in her own, the same way he did to her the first day they met four months ago in the hallway. And once his eyes are locked on hers firmly, she adds, “Think of it as having two women in your life that care about you very much. Do you think that’s something you’d be okay with?”

Jackson squeezes Ryan’s hands tightly in his own before a ginormous grin breaks across his face. Harry can feel his shoulders slump in relief, and when he brings his arm around Ryan’s shoulders and brings her against his side, Jackson just giggles loudly across from them, happily wiggling in his barstool.

“I think that’s just the bestest news ever!” Jackson exclaims, smiling so big that the tiny dimples carved into his cheeks deepen. 

The timer goes off, indicating that their pizzas are complete. Harry rounds the counter and begins pulling them from the oven. Ryan walks over to the barstool and lifts Jackson up from underneath his armpits, placing him on the ground so that he can settle into his spot in the breakfast nook.

After Harry places the pizzas on the table and grabs their beers and Jackson’s juice from the counter, the three of them sit around the table while Ryan cuts small pieces for Jackson’s little hands to grab. 

Once she’s made sure that Jackson’s completely settled, Ryan reaches for her own beer and begins cutting her into her pizza. The domesticity of it all no longer makes Harry or Ryan uncomfortable. Instead, they welcome the feeling with open arms, no longer batting an eye whenever Ryan wipes tomato sauce from Jackson’s grabby hands, no longer falling slack-jawed when Jackson asks for a piece of Ryan’s pizza instead of his own, no longer growing red in the face when Jackson grabs Ryan’s hand when she’s done eating her dinner.

Ryan offers to help Harry clean up, but once Jackson notices the two emerald wrapped presents in the corner of the living room, Ryan’s practically dragged into the living room so that he can excitedly rip open his gifts.

“How about we wait for daddy, champ?” Ryan asks, sitting cross-legged against the floor with Luna in her lap and her back against the couch while Jackson begins strategizing how he should rip open the wrapping paper. 

“I’m too excited I don’t know if I can wait!” Jackson squeals, reaching for the smaller box below to try and guess what’s hiding underneath.

After a few minutes of painfully waiting for Harry, he finally emerges and sits behind Ryan on the couch, caging his legs around her frame. When she feels him settle in behind her, Ryan leans back so that her head is closer to his lap, and Harry begins rubbing at her shoulders comfortingly while they both watch Jackson tear into the larger package.

“You didn’t have to get him anything, you know,” Harry whispers into Ryan’s ear.

Ryan turns so that she’s looking at him over her shoulder, rolling her eyes amusedly and repeating his words from earlier. “I wanted to.”

Jackson’s excited shriek causes both Harry and Ryan to look at him, and when he holds up the brand new Nerf blaster that he tested out with Ryan almost two months ago, she can’t help but grin wickedly back at him. 

“No way! This is so great, Ryan! Thank you!” The fluorescent orange plastic gun sits on his lap as he begins pulling the trigger and watching the empty ammunition compartment spin clockwise. 

“Should I be worried?” Harry asks ominously from behind Ryan, causing Jackson to look from his father to Ryan with nervous eyes.

With a subtle wink, reminding him to keep their secret between each other, Jackson giggles quietly before placing the gun back on the floor beside him. “Nothing to worry about, daddy,” he says, reaching for the smaller yet heavier wrapped package in front of him.

As he begins tearing at the paper, Ryan grows more alert, sitting up straight so that she can see the expression on Jackson’s face when he finally reveals the contents of his present. When the paper is finally removed from the top part of the gift, Jackson gasps when he notices seven varying sizes of books all with the words Harry Potter inscribed on the spine. 

“Whoa.” It’s the first time Jackson’s ever struggled with finding words, and when he turns the books over that are tied together with white tinsel, so that he can see each book separately, Ryan almost swears she can see his mouth open and close repeatedly.

“Figured you should have your own,” Ryan says quietly, reaching over to untie the string so that he can thumb through the brand new pages of his own books. 

“This is the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten,” Jackson whispers, dropping the books to the floor so that he can scramble up to his knees and wrap his arms around Ryan’s neck, engulfing her in a tight hug.

Ryan tries her hardest not to cry with happiness, because out of all of the hugs she’s ever received in her entire lifetime (including the warm embraces Harry has gifted her in the past two months) this hug from Jackson beats them all. His tiny fists knot together at the nape of her neck, and she can feel him squeezing her tighter when her own arms fall around his torso, bringing him closer to her.

“Thank you so much,” he whispers into her shoulder, letting her go and sitting back on the floor so that he can look at his brand new presents.

When Ryan sits back, she turns around so that she can see the look Harry gives her. She’s almost certain that it could be love, but when he leans down and kisses her on the cheek, thanking her profusely, she’s not sure if she’s overthinking it all. 

After the excitement of the party dwindles down and Jackson’s muffling yawns into the crook of his elbow, Harry decides that it’s time for bed. Jackson doesn’t put up a fight, and when he gets up and begins heading into the bathroom to start his nighttime routine, he turns around before Harry can get up from the couch and follow him.

“Ryan? Can you put me to bed tonight?”

His question makes the warmth she feels whenever he looks at her flush through her insides, and when his sleepy green eyes twinkle and he holds a hand out waiting for her to hold, she’s up and by his side without a second to spare. 

She lets Jackson pick out his pajamas, and when he’s too tired to put his head through his blue sleep shirt, Ryan holds it over his body so that he can stick his arms through the holes and she can push it down appropriately. She pulls out the stool for him in the bathroom so that he can step up and brush his teeth, making sure to reach the deep corner of his mouth and swipe his toothbrush over his tongue until his breath is minty fresh. And once he’s finished, she walks him into his bedroom and pulls down his covers, letting him slide in so that she can tuck him in tightly.

“Hey, Ryan?” Jackson asks sleepily, tucking his chin over the folded duvet against his chest.

“Yeah, champ?” Ryan asks, swiping a stray curl off of his forehead.

“Does this mean Luna gets to have a bed here, too? So she doesn’t feel alone in your home whenever you're here?” His question is a simple one, but somehow Ryan can’t find the words to answer. Because she’s spent a lot of time feeling alone in her own home, and in the past two months she hasn’t felt that feeling at all. She’s wondering what it all means.

Before she can answer, Harry pops his head in from the hallway. “Ready for bed?”

Jackson nods, yawning one last time before snuggling deeper into his pillow. “Mhm. Night daddy. Night Ryan.”

“Night, champ. Hope you had a great birthday.” Ryan doesn’t wait for him to respond, instead, she switches off his bedside lamp and flicks on the nightlight against the wall, shuffling across the room to meet Harry’s waiting arms. 

But before the door can fully close, they hear Jackson call out, “Love you both!” and Ryan halts in her steps.

It falls out of his mouth so easily, without question, as if it was something she should already know. And when Harry responds and Ryan’s left staring dumbly at the wall, she’s wondering if it really is that easy to fall in love with somebody else.

She’s thinking about this while getting ready for bed with Harry later that night, exchanging her jeans and jumper for the yellow shirt he wore all day. It smells like him—hints of vanilla and sandalwood, all citrusy shampoo and that distinguishable smell that follows him around. They work in comfortable silence in his en suite, sharing the one sink as best they can. Harry waits while Ryan washes her face, and when she’s hidden behind a face towel, Harry pinches her bum underneath the hem of his shirt and reaches for the toothpaste. Ryan squeals, and once Harry’s begun brushing she does the same, smacking his hands away whenever he tries to bring her backside against his front, dribbling blue foamy toothpaste onto her shoulder. And when they both spit into the sink and head towards the mattress, her mind is still reeling. 

It’s no secret that Ryan’s never grasped the concept of having a home. Growing up, she had two homes with two sets of parents in two different places. And when she became an adult, Ryan moved around more than anybody else—perfecting the ability to live out of cardboard boxes in different flats with different postal codes. 

But now, she’s actively thinking about what Jackson said about Luna having a home here in their flat. Because home isn’t a physical place—it’s a feeling. It’s that warmth, that feeling of wrapping yourself in a heavy duvet on your mum’s couch. It’s mixing up parcels on purpose with the perfect excuse to knock on their door and see them again. It’s that giddy feeling you get when you notice the other person’s tea mug resting on your drying rack, a piece of them seemingly interwoven with your own life. It’s reading a book you’ve read hundreds of times over again to somebody who’s never experienced it before, saying each word as if it were the first time you’ve ever seen them. It’s having matching food bowls for your kitten and a second bed for her in a place where she can make her own home.

Home is having two separate flats but feeling completely safe wrapped around each other on a juniper couch or in a king-sized mattress with grey sheets. 

And when they’re settled in these sheets, Ryan’s legs wrapped securely around Harry’s waist, Harry’s hands crawling further down her body until the tips of his fingers skim the hem of his shirt resting on her thighs, they both know that this is it. This feeling they’ve been running from suddenly makes sense—suddenly makes loneliness feel like the stupidest thing in the world. 

Just before Harry can rip the shirt off of Ryan’s body, they hear his doorknob begin to wiggle for the second time that day. Harry groans frustratedly underneath his breath, allowing his head to fall against Ryan’s shoulder before the door falls open. Jackson stands in the doorway, clad in the same blue flannel pajamas Ryan had just helped him put on, holding a red and orange book cover in his small hands.

“Everything all right, Bubs?” Harry asks once Ryan’s unwrapped her legs from his waist and rolled over so that they’re lying side by side. 

Jackson nods, shuffling into the bedroom inch by inch. “Since it’s my birthday and stuff, do you think Ryan could read to me a little?”

It’s timid and adorable and Ryan can’t help but start to smile, already knowing that she’s going to say yes without even acknowledging that his birthday is almost over as soon as the clock changes from eleven thirty to midnight. 

“C’mere, champ,” Ryan says, patting the mattress happily. 

Harry tries to argue, but when he sees his son’s sleepy grin and his girlfriend’s matching one, he knows there’s no use. So once Jackson reaches their bedside, he grabs him from underneath his armpits and plops him comfortably in the space between him and Ryan. 

Jackson shuffles under the covers, dropping the brand new hardcover into Ryan’s lap. Harry flicks the lamp on the nightstand before turning on his left side, releasing his head on his waiting palm with his elbows bent so that he can watch both of them. 

“Where’d we leave off?” Ryan asks even though she already knows from the dog-eared page in her own copy that Jackson clumsily marked off the last time they read together. 

“The map! Harry has the Marauder’s Map!” he squeals, turning his head so that he’s practically cuddling into her chest.

Ryan giggles and Harry feels himself melting into his mattress. “Oh that’s right. Okay, here we go.”

Before she can let the first word on the page fall past her lips, Harry interrupts, “Does this mean I finally get to hear the Hagrid voice?”

She looks over and rolls her eyes, ignoring the amused twinkle in his own.

Once she’s finished the first page, she can feel Harry’s arm extend over Jackson’s head and reach towards the messy plait falling past her shoulder. With steady hands, he removes the hair bobble and starts untangling the strands, wrapping a wavy tendril around his finger and letting out a quiet but relaxing breath that makes her feel more at home than ever before. 

And with Jackson curling further into her chest and Harry running soothing fingers down her scalp, Ryan should be feeling the complete opposite. 

But when she sneaks a look at Harry as she’s turning the page, she notices that he’s been looking at her instead of the black text carved into the book. And when their eyes lock for a brief moment, she feels time stand still. Her heart lets out a strong string of heavy thumps, her skin feels just the right amount of warmth, and she’s never been more sure of her place in the world. 

She thinks back to Fiona’s declaration of love at first sight, and wonders if the glimmer in Harry’s green eyes and the soft smile on his face is the same expression Roger wore the first time they met in that overcrowded club all those months ago. 

And when Harry scrunches his face, wrinkling his nose adorably and squinting his eyes, Ryan knows for sure that Fiona’s right.

It’s love. It’s always been love.

***

A/N: And just like that, we’ve reached the end of YFLH. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it! I never thought Ryan and Harry’s story would go past a oneshot, and I’m so happy that you all have grown to love them as much as I have. I want to thank all of you who have reached out to tell me your thoughts, to those who have liked or reblogged, to those who have recommended this story to somebody else--I truly owe you the biggest thanks. You’ve made this process so easy and fun, and I’m so grateful to you all!

Don’t hesitate to reach out and let me know your thoughts about part eight or everything and anything in between. This story was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! Hope you all have a safe and happy Holiday season, and I’ll see you all soon! x

(In the meantime if you’re looking to do some more reading, you can click here for my masterlist!)

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles @harrysstyle @greatestview @solllaris​ @niallgolden​ @mellamolayla

[drummergirl231-2]

It’d be so much easier to get hyped if we had more speculation fodder.

In the hiatus between “The Rumble for Ragnarok!” and “The Phantom and the Sorceress!” I did a similar post about how none of my speculations had changed after the first seven episodes of the season because nothing had really happened with regards to the main plot yet. 

Now we’ve had eleven more episodes... twelve if you count “Let’s Get Dangerous!” as two since it was an hour-long special. A lot happened in those episodes, especially regarding the main plot. The family knows F.O.W.L. is after them, Beakley and Scrooge (who know better than anyone else what F.O.W.L. is capable of) are freaking out, we’ve learned a lot about Bradford’s motivations (reining in chaos, trying to control everything and maintain order, etc.), and Huey’s had some more character development.

Still, I’m trying to figure out just what it is about this season that’s so different. During Season 2 we were all abuzz with speculations. “Oh my gosh, how’s Scrooge going to handle Louie turning to Goldie as a mentor? No, how’s Della going to handle Louie turning to Goldie as a maternal figure?”

We were a little off the mark about what was to come, but still, there were things in the episodes we got before going on hiatus that hinted at what was to come. Louie called Goldie and asked her to mentor him at the end of an episode. He seemed to struggle the most bonding with his mother after her return. We were able to piece some things together and speculate.

Why isn’t that happening this time? Well... a lot of these episodes end with what seem like character arcs getting neatly wrapped up. This is the last season, and the writers have a lot of side characters whose story arcs need to conclude.

“The Phantom and the Sorceress!” - Lena learns to control her powers and owns her status as a good witch. Also the episode ends with that classic cartoon let’s-all-laugh-when-nothing-was-funny-until-the-credits-roll bit which feels very much like a conclusion to anyone who’s grown up watching a lot of cartoons.

“They Put a Moonlander on the Earth!” - Penny decides to stay on Earth and take apart her rocket. She is now comfortable knowing she can live out her savior complex by saving people on Earth instead of the Moon, and she’s becoming more social. Apparently Sam King said this would be the last episode to feature Penny. Arc complete.

“The Forbidden Fountain of the Foreverglades!” - We finally see Goldie and Scrooge kiss and it seems like they’re back together...? I think? But at any rate, Goldie having the character development to not leave without saying goodbye and to put Scrooge’s needs ahead of her wants (throwing away her youth to save him) feels like the character development in Goldie we were waiting for.

“Let’s Get Dangerous!” - Setup for a spinoff.

A few episodes hint at things to come. “Escape from the Impossibin!” lets us know that F.O.W.L. stole all the Missing Mysteries. “The Split Sword of Swanstantine!” ends with Black Heron letting Bradford know she’d obtained a feather, presumably from Scrooge. 

I was curious to know what Bradford wanted with the Missing Mysteries, but “The First Adventure!” kind of answered that. He wanted the Papyrus of Binding, not to use it himself (though he eventually did), but to keep it from falling into anyone else’s hands. His whole purpose of founding F.O.W.L. was to take control of the world for control’s sake. He wants to rein in chaos, not make more of it. So it makes perfect sense he’d be after the Missing Mysteries. Also, we see this is when he learned (from Heron) to wait for Scrooge to find something and then take it when he’s not looking - a strategy he used in the present day to obtain the Missing Mysteries. 

As for the feather... now that’s a mystery. But what other theories could there be besides cloning someone, or genetically engineering the ultimate spy (which @alliterative-albatross already talked about)? 

One mystery we have yet to solve is Webby’s origins, and while this season will surely address this, one thing I know would certainly make me more hyped for the answer is knowing what Webby knows/thinks about her parents/origins so far. Does she believe an outright lie about them that Beakley told her? Or did Beakley tell her a half-truth? Did Webby even have parents, or was she created? Has she ever asked Beakley about why she doesn’t have a mom and dad? Did Beakley tell her anything, or did she just say it’s hard for her to talk about and then tell Webby to run along and play?

Donald had told the boys their mother was “gone.” We knew early on in Dewey’s season what they’d been told about their mother, and it wasn’t much. We’re more than two thirds of the way through the final season now and we have no clue what Webby knows or thinks or what she’s been told in the past, and she doesn’t seem at all curious to know about her parents. And with no new hints at her origin story in this last batch of episodes, I don’t know about all of you, but things feel a little stagnant. 

We also haven’t been getting any hints from Frank here on Tumblr. Maybe it’s because the series is ending in a big way and he doesn’t want to spoil a thing, or maybe 2020 just did a number on him like the rest of us. Can’t blame him for that. Can’t blame him for either, really. 

As sad as it is that the series is coming to a close, I hope we don’t have to wait too long to find out this incredible ending the crew can’t wait for us to see.

[roman-writing]

bring home a haunting (4/12)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor

Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jamie Taylor

Rating: M

Wordcount: 20,133

Summary: Dani almost has her life together, when a familiar face arrives back in town after ten years. A childhood friends AU written with @youngbloodbuzz

read it below or read it on AO3 here

It was well and truly autumn. The air had a bite to it and the ground crinkled with every footstep. Everything had lost its vibrant edge and had become brown and wet and stagnant. Nothing but mud and rain and fresh crops on the produce shelves in the grocery store. The nights grew longer and the days shorter, and winter would be fast upon them.

In other words, Dani's least favorite time of year. She had long come to the conclusion that she was not built for the cold. Even now, sky overcast and gloomy, struck through with bared tree branches like black lightning, she wore a thick coat, scarf, and hat. Her boots were splattered with mud from the walk, and she would occasionally admire the way her breath steamed in the air like a cloud with every exhalation. Meanwhile, Jamie wore nothing more than a woollen jumper over her usual t-shirt and jean ensemble. Her scuffed and battered shoes looked even more worse for wear with a layer of caked dirt all up the soles.

They were digging through the illegal dump found midway down the abandoned rail line, affectionately called 'Mount Tire' by the locals. Dani had heard her mother complain about it along with other townsfolk at the annual general meeting of the Council, as though it were a dark mark on the face of the town rather than a treasure trove of objects that otherwise might have gone without a home.

From further along, Jamie made a triumphant noise, and Dani lifted her head.

"Did you find something?" Dani asked.

Jamie's reply was a series of grunts and the sound of something clattering. Dani wandered over to find her brushing off an unearthed bicycle that had seen better days.

Jamie held it propped up with both hands while she inspected it with a critical eye. "I can fix this," she said.

Dani's eyebrows rose and she gave the bike a dubious once over. "It's missing a seat."

Jamie made a dismissive sound while she crouched down to test the chain. "Damn," she swore. "This'll need replacing. Spokes are fine though. And it all looks like surface rust to me. I can fix it."

"Again," said Dani, pointing out the obvious. "There's no seat."

"Always such a Debbie downer," Jamie said even as she aimed a grin at Dani over her shoulder. She straightened. "C'mon. Let's go down to the petrol station."

"What for?" Dani asked, following along beside Jamie as she guided the bicycle with her hands, rolling it along down to the train tracks.

"Tires are flat," Jamie said, tapping one of said tires with the toe of her shoe for good measure. "Tread's fine, though. They've got free air down at the station, and I want to see how bad the damage is."

It was miles away to the gas station, but Dani didn't mind. Not when it was with Jamie. Not when their Saturday was free and they could spend their time aimlessly chatting about everything and nothing in particular. They were still talking and laughing when they arrived at the station, the bike ticking like a clock with every rotation of its old wheels.

Jamie propped the bike against the wall outside before they went in. The owner, Mr. Thompson, was wearing a baseball cap and reading a magazine inside. His head lifted when the bell attached to the door rang, but as he saw who it was that entered — not a customer, just a few kids — he swiftly lost interest. His gaze dropped back down to the magazine on the counter.

"Afternoon, Mr. Thompson," Dani greeted with a little wave.

He grunted a wordless reply, then said, "I don't do candy discounts."

Beside her, Jamie bristled. "We're not that young."

As he flicked to another page — some sort of automobile magazine with shiny cars and motorcycles splashed across it — his eyes moved up to them with a lazy sort of indifference. "You really are, kid."

There was a determined set to Jamie's jaw as she approached the counter and placed her hands on it. "I want to use your air pump outside."

"It's free, isn't it?" he said, his attention firmly back on the magazine. "Don't need to tell me you're going to use it. Just use it."

"I also want to buy some stuff to fix up a bicycle. Tire repair kit. New chain," Jamie ticked off items on her fingers. "Do you have anything that'll help clean up rust?"

Mr. Thompson was watching her now, cheek resting on one fist. "Matter of fact, I do."

"And I want to use your tools out back."

His eyebrows rose and he blinked slowly at her. "You got money to back up that mouth of yours, Miss Taylor?"

Jamie dug her hands into her pockets and pulled out a few crumpled up bills and spare bits of change. She slapped them onto the countertop. Mr. Thompson glanced down. "That's enough for a new chain and none of the others. Sorry, kid. Come back when you have more."

Slowly, Jamie deflated. She began to drag the money back into her hands from the table, but Dani stepped up beside her, rising up on her toes to better be seen. "Excuse me?"

Both of them turned to look at her.

Clearing her throat, Dani forged on. "Can we pay in something other than cash?"

Mr. Thompson's brow crinkled. Somehow he still managed to look bored despite it. "Like what?"

"Well, no offense, Mr. Thompson, but your shop -" Dani gestured around them, "- is kind of a mess. How about we clean it? Windows. Floors. Or -" she said hurriedly as he leaned back, "- we can operate the pump for anyone who comes around? That's -? That's worth something? Right?"

Glancing around the shop, he tipped back his baseball cap with the knuckle of one finger, then swiped at his nose with a thoughtful sniff. Jamie opened her mouth to say something, but Dani stood on her foot and surreptitiously shook her head. Jamie scowled but closed her mouth and kept silent. 

Finally, he waved towards the door that led to the little warehouse and service shop out back. "Brooms and cleaning equipment is back there. And for God's sake don't touch the pumps. Last thing I need is you two spilling gas all over the road."

The effect was immediate. Jamie's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and she began tugging Dani towards the back room, saying, "I get the windows! I'm taller!"

"Hey!" Dani complained, but grudgingly accepted mop duties when push came to shove.

It was slow work, with very few customers to interrupt the boredom. Jamie made a game of pulling faces at Dani through the glass as she cleaned the windows from outside. Dani laughed and would pretend to descend down stairs as she walked. Mr. Thompson kept an eye on them from behind the counter, shaking his head and flipping through his magazine with a mutter under his breath, "Kids."

When a car eventually did roll up to one of the pump stations, Mr. Thompson straightened in his seat. Dani and Jamie were just about finished cleaning when Judy stepped out of her car and saw them. She hesitated, cocking her head curiously, before striding inside. As she opened the door, she kept it propped open with her hip and lifted her sunglasses so that they were perched atop her head.

"What on earth are you two doing?" she asked, looking between Jamie and Dani.

"Trading," said Dani.

"For bicycle parts," Jamie added, and she gestured with a rag towards the old bicycle leaning against the wall.

Judy aimed a questioning look at Mr. Thompson. "That right, Hunter?"

If anything, he looked a bit bashful. "Place needed cleaning, and they don't have money," he grumbled. "Didn't think there was any harm in it."

With a shrug, Judy said, "All right, then. If everyone's happy, then I'm happy. Can I get this filled up?" She pointed to her sedan. "Should only be half a tank, but I'm driving to Cedar Rapids to visit my sister tomorrow."

"Sure thing," Mr. Thompson said. He rose from his seat and ambled out to fill up the car.

Judy kept the door open for him and remained standing in the doorway. She crossed her arms. "And what are your plans for Christmas this year?" she asked Jamie.

Jamie lifted a spray bottle and squeezed some solution onto the window before wiping at the glass with the rag. "Dunno," she answered. "Same as last year. Home with Nan."

"Well, Dani's coming over to my place with her mom," Judy said, nodding towards Dani in question, who listened with a keen ear. "Why don't you and Ruth come over like you did for Thanksgiving? We usually open presents in the morning and have a big lunch."

"Oh, uh -" Jamie hesitated. She glanced through the glass at Dani, who was nodding furiously and all but bouncing on the balls of her feet. Even then, Jamie's expression was unsure. "I'll have to talk to Nan about it."

"Well, you tell Ruth to give me a call, all right?"

Jamie nodded and mumbled something that was too muffled through the glass for Dani to hear properly. Whatever it was made Judy laugh. "Oh, you're going to be trouble one day, Missy," Judy said with a good-natured chuckle.

Jamie’s only response was an impish grin.

When Mr. Thompson had finished refuelling Judy’s car, Judy approached the register to pay. As she pulled out a few bills from her wallet and handed them over, she said, “You know, you should hire the Jones’ boy. Stanley? I hear he’s looking for part time work.” 

Mr. Thompson took the money and punched in a few buttons on the register to get her change. “Shop’s fine.”

Judy took the change with a shrug. “If you say so.” And on her way out, she paused, door held open. “Don’t work them too hard, Hunter. I’ll see you girls later.”

After her car had pulled away from the station and they were left alone with Mr. Thompson once more, Dani and Jamie turned to look at him. He had returned to his place ensconced behind the till, magazine open on the countertop, hiding behind a row of confectionaries and chewing gum. When he felt their eyes upon him, he went very still, hand frozen in place as he turned the page of a new magazine. 

Sighing, he jerked his thumb to indicate the wall behind him. “Tools are in the back. Don’t hurt yourself. Especially you.” He jabbed his finger in Jamie’s direction. “Your grandmother puts the fear of God in me.”

 --

The news of it spread like wildfire across the school the moment it happened. A fight in the east wing. 

Dani and Eddie were already on their way there in search of Carson and Jamie who were late to lunch, when other students rushed past them shouting back the news. The pair exchanged a worried glance before taking off, following the clamor around the corner to where a group of kids were shouting and cheering on at a pile of indistinguishable bodies scuffling on the floor, swinging and pulling violently on each other. 

Dani’s stomach dropped, and immediately cast her eyes around in search of Jamie, worrying at her lower lip when she couldn’t spot her in the crowd. In that same moment, a group of teachers came rushing through. 

“All right, all right, settle down!” Mr. Roberts shouted, pushing his way through the crowd and pulling apart the wrestling bodies with the help of the art teacher, Mr. Keller. 

When Mr. Roberts pulled up the recognizable form of a disheveled Jamie, breathing heavy, her nose bleeding, and a righteous fury burning in her eyes that Dani hadn’t seen since that day in the back alley, Dani sucked in a sharp breath. 

Eddie sighed exasperatedly. “Again?”

“Nan’s gonna kill her,” Dani murmured, frowning in concern. When Jamie wiped at the blood pooling from her nose down to her mouth and chin with the sleeve of her shirt, wincing as she smeared it over her face, Dani winced along with her. 

It didn’t make any sense. No one had bothered Jamie since the first year she arrived at North Liberty after her fight with Roger in the stairwell. The knowledge that Jamie was perfectly capable of defending herself, and fought like a caged beast when cornered had grown widespread across the school. Dani knew. She’d seen Jamie fearlessly tackle one of the twins during a playfight session at the river where, at the time, Tommy had already stood well over a foot taller than Jamie. 

Dani took a step forward, scanning the pile of students being pulled to their feet to see who was responsible. A hand grasped her arm, pulling her to a stop. 

“Danielle,” Eddie hissed. 

Dani almost spun around to glare at him, but her eyes unexpectedly caught Jamie’s. Jamie’s eyes darted pointedly to a corner in the hallway before catching Dani’s again. Dani frowned, but Jamie only responded by pressing her mouth into a thin line and jerking her head towards the same direction, slowly being pulled away by the arm down the hall. 

With one last grimace of a smile, Dani watched her go as another teacher began dispersing the crowd. When Jamie turned a corner, Dani finally exhaled, her shoulders dropping from where they had bunched up, and she scanned the direction of the hallway where Jamie gestured towards. Stepping towards it, she was once again tugged to a stop. She looked down at her hand where Eddie’s had at some point slinked down from her forearm to her hand, holding it in a loose grip. Dani darted her eyes up at him to see that he wasn’t even paying attention, still frowning uncomfortably at the laughing kids who still loitered the hallway. 

Dani huffed. “Eddie.” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I have my hand back?”

He turned to blink blankly at her, and then down at their clasped hands. “Oh,” he said, snatching his hand away, his cheeks turning pink. “Sorry.”

Dani sighed, and returned to scanning the hallway, stepping further through groups of her classmates, until she spotted a familiar figure on the ground, curled up and trembling against the lockers with their head buried in their arms. 

Dani gasped. “Carson!” She rushed towards him, kneeling on the dusty floor and pressed a hand to his shoulder, “Carson, are you okay?”

He flinched away, head jerking up to stare at her with wide watery eyes. He relaxed when he saw it was just Dani, his face crumpling in relief as he nodded and wiped his cheeks. 

Eddie kneeled on the other side of him, eyes fearful. “Are you sure? What happened?”

Risking a glance around them, there were still students being ushered away, some even staring and snickering in their direction. Dani’s stare hardened into a scowl. “Not here,” she said, pushing to her feet, holding out a hand for Carson, “Let’s go outside.”

With downcast eyes, Carson took her hand for her to help pull him up and didn’t let go as she guided both boys outside to their usual spot along the brick walls. They huddled together in a circle with their lunch bags in their laps. 

“Well?” Eddie said, his knee bouncing, wearing a worried frown. “What happened?” Carson sighed and didn’t answer. “Are you in trouble?”

“No,” Carson said, then twisted his face. “At least, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean you don’t think so? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Eddie,” Dani said, and his mouth promptly snapped shut, looking sheepish. Shaking her head, Dani returned her gaze back at Carson, the youngest O’Mara looking so unusually despondent. She shifted a little closer to him, their knees knocking together, rested a hand on his back and said softly, “It’s okay, you can tell us.”

Carson sighed again, and after a moment, he finally said, “You remember those guys I told you about?”

Dani’s heart sank, knowing immediately what he was referring to. She caught Eddie’s eyes and saw the realization slowly hit him, his face pulling into a grimace. It was only the natural state of things, when Tommy and David graduated from elementary school to the golden gates of high school, for opportunities to arise on the pecking order. With the twins gone, they had taken with them a safety net that had left their little group in peace for the past few years, and out of all of them, the ire of a particular group of the student body had zeroed in on Carson. 

“What did they do?” Dani asked. 

Carson shrugged morosely. “Calling me names again. Shoving me. Whatever.” 

“But why was Jamie there?” Eddie asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

“She walks with me to lunch sometimes,” Carson said. 

Slowly, Dani softened, recalling all those moments in the past month where Jamie would rush off after the lunch bell rang, claiming to need the washroom, and arriving later at the lunchroom with Carson by her side.

The rest of the story came out of Carson gradually. Jamie not being there on time to accompany Carson to lunch. Being cornered by a group of boys in the hall, and by the time they were shoving Carson and getting aggressive, Jamie jumped into the fray. 

“And she just -!” Carson’s eyes by now were wide and fervent, “She came out of nowhere and told them to the piss off!”

“Please don’t say that in front of mom,” Eddie groaned. 

“And then, I don’t know, someone started shoving again, and suddenly they were just all fighting,” Carson said, taking a wild bite of his sandwich that he had pulled out in the middle of the story, “Oh! And then Roger jumped in — “

“Roger?” Dani and Eddie blurted in unison.

Swallowing hard, Dani leaned forward with a worried frown, “Was - was he fighting Jamie, too?”

The thought of Jamie taking on not just three, but four boys by herself sent her heart crashing, but Carson was already shaking his head before Dani even finished the question. “No! He was helping her!”

Dani blinked. Roger Simmons helping Jamie in a school fight. Maybe pigs really did fly. 

As Carson’s story began to wind down to what Dani and Eddie already knew, Dani sobered, biting at her thumb. “I think you should go to the principal and tell them what happened.”

Eddie frowned. “Why?”

“Because he was there and the fight started because they were bullying him in the first place!” 

Shifting on the concrete, Eddie hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know. It might make things worse.”

Dani huffed. “How?” 

At Eddie’s noncommittal shrug, Carson shrank back, his eyes darting between Dani and Eddie before landing back on Dani. “I didn’t mean to get Jamie in trouble, I swear,” he mumbled.

Dani sighed and grasped his hand. “You didn’t,” she said, “Jamie knew what she was getting into. But if we go to the principal’s office now and tell them what happened, she might be in less trouble if they knew she was defending you and herself.”

Nodding eagerly, Carson was already haphazardly packing away the rest of his lunch and pushing to his feet. Dani almost smiled as she followed him to stand, but the tight lines of Eddie’s mouth stopped her. 

They retreated back inside and towards the school office in silence. When they arrived, Dani immediately scanned the room for Jamie, but there was no sign of her and the office was empty. She eyed Principal Davis’ office, her brow knitted as they stepped towards Ms. Reeves. 

After a short conversation with Ms. Reeves, Carson was guided towards the principal’s office with Ms. Reeves' hand on his back. Dani balled her hand into fists and bit her lip as she watched him, his shoulders bunched and his head bowed. Beside her, Eddie was anxiously bouncing on his toes, before abruptly blurting out, “Wait - uh. Ms. Reeves?” At the sound of her name, Ms. Reeves glanced back. Eddie stood up straight, pushing his shoulders back, and said, “Can we come with him?”

Ms. Reeves sighed and gave them a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, honey, but no,” she said,

“But he’s my brother.”

Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench. “You can wait here for the rest of lunch if you’d like, but I’m afraid unless you have something important to add, you can’t go in.”

Both Dani and Eddie deflated, giving Carson one last grim smile and thumbs up that he returned with a small wave. When Ms. Reeves knocked and opened the principal’s door, Dani craned her neck for any sightings of Jamie, but all she could see were the backs of chairs populated by boys, and a stone faced Principal Davis. Carson was guided inside, and then the door was shut with a thud of finality. 

Giving them one last pointed look, Ms. Reeves gestured towards the bench before retreating back to her desk, picking up the phone with a sigh. 

There was nothing more to be done except to take a seat and wait, pretending like they couldn’t hear Ms. Reeves explaining to parents that they needed to come down to the school. Dani winced, a pool of dread whirling in her stomach for the oncoming hurricane of Nan. They snacked on the remains of their lunch as they waited silently. 

When ten minutes had passed, and Carson still hadn’t made a reappearance, Eddie sighed anxiously. “He’s okay, right?”

Dani almost didn’t hear him, absentmindedly snacking on peanuts as she stared at the principal’s office door. “Yeah, if Jamie’s there, of course he is,” Dani replied. 

“God, mom’s gonna kill me.”

“Why?” Dani finally pulled her eyes away to frown at him.

“‘Cause I didn’t watch out for him like Tommy and David,” he said, bouncing his knee, staring at the floor, his face distressed. “Or like you and Jamie.”

Dani’s shoulders dropped and she reached out to grasp his hand, easing it out of its clenched fist to clasp their palms together. “It’s not your fault,” she said, “There was nothing we could’ve done. Jamie was just lucky to be there at the right time today.”

Eddie huffed, his mouth twisting, still visibly concerned and displeased. Dani didn’t know what else to say, she opened her mouth, hoping to find the words to comfort him, but the distinct ominous sound of a tapping cane stopped her. At the sight of a scowling Nan marching in the office, the first to arrive as if the wrath of God had lit a fire under her, Dani immediately shot upright, pulling her hand from Eddie to stand. 

Nan’s mouth thinned when she caught sight of her. She tisked, tapped Dani on the ankle with her cane, and said, “Sit.” Dani did as she was told, biting her lip as Nan stared at her, and then said, “Well? Where is the little shite?”

Swallowing hard, Dani pointed towards Principal Davis’ office. “Already in there,” she murmured. 

With a grunt, Nan didn’t even bother checking in with Ms. Reeves. She marched towards the door and knocked hard on it with her cane. “Harvey Davis, open this door before I break it open.”

The door swung open to reveal Principal Davis wearing a grim smile, just short of paling. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Heron, thank you for — “

“Shut it, and let’s get this over with,” Nan said, pushing past him in the room. Principal Davis exhaled and shut the door. 

Lunch passed quickly after that, a few other parents arrived but there was still no reappearance of Carson or either one of Eddie’s parents yet. They unwillingly shuffled off back to class where they waited out the rest of their day anxiously. Eddie was only able to finally relax when he received a note from the office telling him that Carson was taken home early by their dad, his head thunking on his desk with a loud sigh of relief. Dani chuckled at him, but she still felt worry pulling at her stomach. By the time the final bell rang, Jamie hadn’t returned to class at all, not even for the few things still remaining atop her desk. Dani took it upon herself to gather it all up and stuff them in her locker, careful to keep any loose pages wrinkle free. 

When they were outside, free from school for the weekend, walking towards the beige car that was already waiting for them by the curb a little ways down the street, Eddie looked to her with an eager expression. “Hey, do you want to sleep over this weekend? David and Tommy promised to play Dungeons and Dragons with us.”

Dani’s face twisted. “To play what?”

“Don’t you remember? I told you ages ago. You said you’d play with us.”

“Oh, I - I wanted to go to Jamie’s to see if she’s okay,” she said, grimacing, and then added, “I was gonna sleep over.”

Eddie’s face fell. “But you promised.”

Dani did remember promising, absentmindedly nodding along to the idea in the O’Mara’s basement where they had all congregated around the tv to watch the latest animated Robin Hood movie, snickering quietly to Jamie’s commentary. 

“I know,” Dani said, “I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “She’s probably fine.”

“She was bleeding everywhere!”

“So? She gets hurt like every other week, it’s nothing special,” he said, scowling at the ground. 

Dani grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop, her mouth thinned. “I’m sorry, Eddie,” she said, “I promise we can hang out soon, but Jamie’s my best friend, I can’t just not see if she’s okay.”

“I’m your best friend, too,” Eddie shot back, his face flushed and his eyes bright, and then froze, ducking his head with a timid expression, and murmured, “I just wanted to hang out.” 

Dani’s heart sank. She didn’t know what else to do or to say. She squeezed at his arm that she still held and moved to slip her hand down to his, but he pulled away with a huff. 

“It’s fine, just forget it,” he said, and continued towards the car. 

She followed after him. “Eddie,” she called out, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said, resignation in his voice, not looking at her. 

Quietly, Dani worried at her lower lip and followed Eddie into the car where Mike was waiting for them. They settled into the backseat and buckled up, both visibly troubled that Mike twisted in his seat to give them an awkward consoling grin. “Hard day, huh?” Mike said, eyes darting between them. “Don’t you kids worry. Carson’s doing all right.” 

When they both silently nodded, Mike’s gaze landed on Dani. While for the most part, Dani and Mike rarely spoke more than five minutes at a time with each other, he was still always a kind and welcoming man. He gave her a tight grin and a nod. “Jamie, too. I think. Lord knows with that grandmother of hers. Never seen Davis turn that color before.” 

Dani breathed out a chuckle. 

“Ah, there it is,” he said, shaking a finger at her, “Knew that was hidden there somewhere.”

Dani ducked her head as Mike twisted back around in his seat to start the engine. As they took off down the street, Dani risked a glance at Eddie out of the corner of her eye to see him already staring at her. When she caught his eyes, he spun his head away sharply. Dani rolled her eyes and nudged at his feet with her own. When he didn’t respond she did it again, knocking it hard enough that there was an audible thud. He sighed and gave her a look that she returned with a grin. He huffed and turned back to the window, but Dani could still see his smile in the slant of his profile. 

When they arrived home, Eddie was the first to offer a murmured goodbye once they got out of the car. Seeing the peace offering for what it was, Dani hugged him tight and said, “I really am sorry.”

“I know,” he murmured, a dejected slump to his shoulders, before pulling away and starting towards the front door of his house where Mike was already shuffling inside. 

With the O’Mara’s front door shut, Dani was off like a shot towards her own house. Unlocking the door with her keys and shoving her way into the empty house to rush upstairs to her room and pack. 

 --

Nan gave her a withering stare when she finally opened the door to Dani’s insistent knocking. Lungs just short of burning from speed walking to the white bungalow, Dani almost shrank back when Nan arched an eyebrow, but she stood her ground and gave Nan a hesitant grin.

Breathing out sharply through her nose in what bizarrely sounded like laugh, Nan shook her head and dryly said, “Took your sweet time, did you?”

“Um.”

Nan huffed, and jerked her head towards the house. “Well, get inside. I’ve got a pot brewing already,” she said, disappearing back into the house. “And take your bloody inhaler before you pass out on my floor.”

Dani did as she was told, shuffling inside and shutting the door behind her to peel off her shoes and coat. She could hear Nan moving around in the kitchen, porcelain cups and plates clinking as Dani quickly took a puff from her inhaler, feeling better already as she stuffed it back in her bag and followed the sounds. 

Nan was already setting the table with three sets of cups and a blue tin that Dani knew held Nan’s coveted cookies, the old rickety table wobbling with every gentle movement due to its uneven legs. Dani dropped her bag in the corner of the kitchen as she scanned the rooms, not finding Jamie anywhere. “Where is she?” she asked quietly. 

“Out back working on that mess of a bike,” Nan said. 

Dani eagerly turned to make her way to the door leading to the backyard, but jerked to a stop when Nan held up the length of her cane to Dani’s stomach. She darted her eyes up towards Nan, blinking in surprise. Nan’s mouth thinned and she jerked her head to the table. “Sit,” she said in a tone of voice that brooked no room for argument.

Feeling her stomach sink, Dani spared a glance towards the back door, and followed Nan to the table, sitting opposite where she stood, stiff in her seat and her hands balled into fists in her lap. “Is she grounded?” Dani carefully asked. 

“Aye, she is,” Nan said, busy making a single cup of tea and setting up a saucer of what Dani recognized were Jamie’s favorite cookies. 

Dani waited for a moment before asking, “How long?”

“As long she needs to be,” Nan sharply replied. 

Dani sank back into her seat, biting her lip, watching as Nan set the cup of tea and saucer of cookies onto a small tray before sliding over an empty cup towards Dani. “Make your tea,” she said, her eyes so piercing that Dani slowly sat back up and reached for the pot. Nan nodded once and gathered the tray in her hand. “Wait here,” she said, and started towards the back screen door.

Straining her ears towards the backyard, Dani made her tea as silently as she could, hearing the tap of Nan’s cane and the whooshing sound of the door being pulled open, letting in a cool draft. But when all she could hear from the pair outside were muffled voices, words indistinguishable and muted, Dani huffed. For a moment, she strongly considered sneaking closer, taking advantage of her socked feet sliding against the floor, but the fear of getting caught kept her rooted to her chair.

The muffled voices abruptly grew louder. “But that’s not fair!” Jamie whined. 

“You don’t see me complaining about missing half a day’s paycheck, do you?” Nan retorted, “You sit out here, have your cuppa and biscuits, and keep your hands busy or so help me God.”

“But —”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, girl. It’s not the end of the world,” Nan said, and stomped back inside, closing the screen door shut with a hard thud. 

Wincing in sympathy, Dani could easily picture the indignant glower on Jamie’s face, her cheeks flushed and her brows deeply furrowed. 

Nan returned with a scowl, sitting in her seat opposite Dani and resting her cane on the table that wobbled slightly at the movement. Holding her cup in her hands, letting the heat warm her skin, Dani sat quietly as Nan made her own cup of tea, not knowing where to start. It wasn’t that Nan was that terribly difficult to talk to, with her shrewd eyes, endless tales of her time during both World Wars, the spite that kept her going, and a sixth sense for whenever Dani and Jamie somehow managed to find themselves doing something they shouldn't, but well — she was difficult to talk to. 

Shoving the tin of cookies towards Dani, Nan gave her a sharp look and said, “Before you get ahead of yourself, I’ve already heard the sorry tale of it.”

Dani paused, and then reached into the tin for a Jammie Dodger. “So you know it’s not her fault?” Dani tried, blinking her eyes innocently, taking a small bite of the cookie, “That she was defending herself?”

Nan snorted, pointing at her with a cookie. “Don’t try that look with me,” she said, “It may work on Judy, but it sure as hell won’t work on me.” Dani ducked her head and took a morose sip of her tea. Nan continued, “I know she was defending the O’Mara boy. But she broke her promise. Got into another fight. Got into trouble. Sure, she helped the boy, but she got nothing for it except a week's worth of detention and the threat of suspension. Again.”

Dani shrank further back in her seat, her frown deepening as she let the words sink in and ate her cookie, and finally said, “But she did though. Get something out of it, that is.” 

She looked up and caught Nan’s eye, expression unchanged save for the arch of an eyebrow. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. What she wanted to say — that Jamie proved how much she cared, that Jamie earned a wealth of loyalty that Dani witnessed bloom in Carson’s eyes that she hadn’t seen before — all of it seemed to lodge itself in the back of her throat. Instead, she needed Nan to know the truth of it, she needed Nan to see Jamie for who she was, the importance of it pressing on her chest. 

“Jamie’s a good person,” Dani finally murmured. 

Nan’s mouth pulled tight. “Well, of course she is,” she said sharply, “She may be a bleeding pain in my arse, but she’s a far sight better than her mother and her knob of a father.”

Dani blinked. Taken aback at not only Nan’s irritation, as if annoyed that Dani reminded her of something that should’ve been obvious, but at the mention of Jamie’s parents. Parents who Jamie had never once mentioned before besides that one time during Dani’s birthday. Always shrugging off questions and changing the subject when mention of them were brought up. It felt strange, discussing something so deeply personal about Jamie, something that Jamie seemed to avoid at all costs, when she was only a few feet away out of hearing range. Dani chanced a glance behind her to where the screen door would be, fearing that any second Jamie might crack and stomp back inside. 

“Doesn’t talk much about them, does she?” Nan said, pulling back Dani’s attention. At Nan’s questioning stare, Dani quietly shook her head. Nan hummed, and then she too shook her head, leaning forward on the table, ignoring the way it shifted again, the pull of her stare so acute that Dani couldn’t blink or turn away.

“Now, you listen here. I’ll tell you exactly what I told her,” Nan said, ”She did a good thing, truly. But she went about it the wrong way, you see. There are more ways to go about things than with the end of your fist. I won’t tolerate it. Not in this house. Not again. Nothing good will ever come of it if she keeps it up. Do you understand?”

Dani was quiet for a long moment, absorbing the words, and then nodded. 

“Good,” Nan said, leaning back and taking a sip of her tea. “Figured as much. Lord knows the girl was as wild as the wind blew back in England. But ever since coming here and meeting you, she’s been mellowing in her own way, so I suppose…I suppose I should offer you my thanks for your bit in it.”

Dani’s eyes widened, a hot flush warming her cheeks and spreading across her chest. It wasn’t often Nan handed out such free praise or thanks. A pleased thrill ran down Dani’s spine, and the corners of her mouth curled into a shy smile that she hid behind her cup as she finished her tea.

Tisking, Nan took a healthy bite of a cookie. “Don’t let that get to your head. And don’t expect me to ever say that again. You both still drive me mad,” she said, and after a moment, she sighed. “And I reckon you should be getting home now before it gets too dark. Last thing I need is your mother over here.”

“Oh,” Dani murmured, and then finding her courage, she added, “Could you —  um. Could you not tell Jamie that I was here, then? I just — I don’t think she’d be happy that I was here, and she didn’t get to see me.”

Nan harrumphed. “Would serve her right,” she said with a displeased twist to her mouth.

“Please?”

Nan watched her for a long moment, expression blank save for a squared jaw, and said, “I’ll think about it.”

Dani’s mouth dared to pull into a grin. Nan huffed and stood, moving to gather her cup. Seeing this, Dani rushed out of her seat to help, gathering both her own and Nan’s cup to set in the sink. 

“Buttering me up now, eh?” Nan said, a hand on her cane and the other on her hip. When Dani merely grinned and shrugged, Nan shook her head and then abruptly paused, her eyes scrutinizing. “Did you walk all the way here?”

Nodding, Dani ducked her eyes away from the intensity of Nan’s gaze. Nan hummed again, made a gesture towards the front door and simply said, “Get your things.”

While Nan disappeared somewhere deeper in the house where the bedrooms were, Dani gathered one last cookie, her bag, and slipped back on her shoes and coat. As she waited by the door, itching to see Jamie just once before she left, Nan reappeared wearing a thick coat. Dani offered her arm for Nan to hold as she pushed her feet into a pair of boots and spared one last glance towards the back of the house, letting Nan guide her outside.

The drive home was silent between the pair, the cabin quiet besides the rickety rumble of Nan’s truck and the radio on low playing some oldies station. When Nan pulled up to Dani’s house, the skyline pink and purple in the evening twilight, she turned to thank Nan only to find her scowling towards her home. Frowning, Dani followed Nan’s gaze to look it over, seeing nothing amiss. An empty driveway, a neat lawn, porch lights off. 

“You got something to eat for dinner?” Nan abruptly asked.

Dani caught her eyes again and shrugged, vaguely recalling leftovers in the fridge. Peanut butter and bread in the cupboard. “I think so, yeah.”

“Best pop over to Judy’s then.”

Her eyes drifted away to the O’Mara’s house, recalling Eddie’s dejected face. A spark of hope lit inside her. Maybe there was still time to turn things around. Turning back to Nan, Dani nodded, and said, “Thank you for tea. And the ride home.”

Nan grunted in response, and just as Dani unbuckled her seat belt and moved to open the door, Nan’s voice stopped her. “Dani,” she said, her voice demanding attention. Dani paused as Nan gave her a look, knowing and firm. “Two days. Then you’ll see her.”

Dani nodded faintly. Two days. Two days without Jamie. An entire weekend. Almost a lifetime really. Not once in the past two years could Dani recall going more than a day without talking to or seeing Jamie. The idea of it felt almost like cutting off a limb. 

“Two days,” Dani repeated, nodding again. She could manage that, she thought, resignation settling heavy on her shoulders. What could be worse than two days?

 --

The moment Dani saw Jamie stepping foot back on the school grounds the following Monday morning, Dani nearly took her off her feet in a running hug. Jamie grunted upon impact, forced back a foot or two. 

“Ow, fuck.” 

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Dani said, starting to remove her arms from around Jamie’s shoulders, but Jamie just laughed, pulling her back into the hug. 

“Missed you too,” Jamie said, a smile in her voice.

They stood there hugging for a good minute, giggling as they roughly rocked each other back and forth, as if they hadn’t seen each other for years instead of two days. 

“Okay, okay, let me see,” Dani finally said, pulling away to rest her hands on Jamie’s shoulders, getting a good look at her face. Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes under the scrutiny, but sure enough, her face was a discolored mess. The skin around her left eye was bruised purple and red, looking tender to the touch, and her cheek and jaw were mottled a dark purple. Dani winced and said, “You look worse than you did last time.”

“What? You don’t think it brings out the color of my eyes?”

Dani snorted and shoved her by the shoulders. Jamie allowed herself to rock back with a good-natured grin.

“Least my nose didn’t break, thank god,” Jamie said, gently prodding the bridge of her nose, knuckles also discolored, then grimaced. “Though one wanker did manage to get a grip on my braid. Felt like my scalp was gonna rip off. Had a headache all weekend.”

Dani winced again, leaning closer to get a better look, and then gently poked at her bruised cheek. At the slight touch, Jamie jerked back as though Dani had struck her. “Ow! Christ, what’s wrong with you?” she said, though there was a teasing glint in her eyes. 

Biting back a laugh, Dani poked her again, this time in the chest. “You don’t get to do that again,” she said, sobering. 

“Or what? You gonna call the sheriff on me?”

“No,” Dani said hotly, “You just — you scared me. And I’m pretty sure Nan will lock you away forever next time, so please don’t.”

Jamie’s face blanched, and then shook her head, scowling. “That old nag has it out for me, I swear.”

“She cares for you.”

Jamie gave her a look. “That right?”

“Yes,” Dani said earnestly. 

At that, Jamie’s shoulders dropped, her face softening for a moment and then she huffed. “Right. Or you were just that bored without me,” she said, smirking. 

Dani rolled her eyes. The weekend hadn’t been a complete waste in truth. Eddie had brightened immeasurably when Dani returned with only the simple explanation that Jamie was grounded. He had even managed a sympathetic grin before leading her deeper into the house. It was like any other weekend spent at the O’Mara’s, except this time there was no Jamie with her silly commentary or teasing as Dani fumbled her way through some game involving fantasy creatures and dice. It almost felt like the days before Jamie and Nan had arrived at North Liberty, except now there had been a distinct large gap of the puzzle missing. 

Before Dani could respond however, there was the sound of shoes slapping on concrete. 

“Jamie!” was all the warning they both got before Jamie was once again nearly bowled over by the slim frame of Carson. Dani laughed when Jamie swore again, hugging Carson back and laughing, ruffling his hair. 

When the bell eventually rang to signal the start of the school day, they made their way to class. There wasn’t much fanfare to Jamie’s return beyond the quiet stares and hushed whispers behind hands through the halls and during class. Jamie at this point had learned to ignore it all, sighing and rolling her eyes whenever she managed to find herself the centerpoint of gossip. Dani on the other hand had no issues with scowling back until those staring spun away. By the time lunch rolled around and they were settling in their seats in the lunchroom, Dani was in the middle of pinning a smirking Jackie with a hard stare when Carson slid next to Jamie with a large tupperware in hand. 

Jamie snorted. “Don’t tell me you brought an entire meal with you for lunch,” she said, pulling back Dani’s attention.

Shyly shaking his head, Carson pushed the container towards Jamie. “It’s for you.”

Jamie blinked. “For me?”

Nodding, Carson grinned and said, “Open it!”

A look of uncertainty crossed Jamie’s face. She caught Dani’s eyes, quirking an eyebrow, but Dani just shrugged in response, at a loss herself. Shaking her head, Jamie finally opened the container and her eyes went wide at the sight of a pile of chocolate chip cookies and a big ziploc bag of puppy chow packed inside. 

“Holy shit,” Jamie said. “This all for me?”

Biting into his sandwich, Carson nodded and grinned around a mouthful of food. Chuckling, Jamie immediately snatched up a cookie and took a bite. Dani laughed, and reached forward for one of her own. 

Jamie swiped at her hand. “Ah, haven’t you heard? These are mine,” Jamie said. Eddie snorted into his own lunch as Dani scoffed, pulling her hand back. “What? You telling me you don’t have your own stash somewhere at home?”

“No,” Dani glowered, her mouth threatening to pull into a smile. 

“We made them only for you,” Carson said.

Jamie paused, frowning. “Why?”

Growing shy again, Carson shrugged. “When mom heard what happened, she thought it would be nice if we made you some cookies.”

A grin slowly grew on Jamie’s face. “You helped make these?” she asked, gesturing with the half bitten cookie in hand. At Carson’s slow nod, her grin grew wide and she stuffed the rest of the cookie in her mouth, “Think you’ve found your future calling.” 

Carson brightened, shooting upright, but then pulled his lips between his teeth, growing visibly anxious. “I’m sorry you got in trouble.”

Jamie’s chewing slowed. “Don’t worry about it, mate,” she said, shrugging. 

Carson’s face twisted. “But, you got beat up! And detention! And grounded! And -!” he paused, pointing at Dani “ — Dani was sad you weren’t with us for the sleepover!”

Pausing, Eddie blinked at Dani. “You were?”

Warmth spread across Dani’s cheeks as all eyes turned towards her. She shrugged helplessly under their stares. 

“Well, duh,” Carson said, like it should’ve been obvious. Then he sobered again, remorse in his eyes, “But yeah, I’m — I’m sorry.”

Jamie sighed, and was silent for a long moment before meeting Carson’s eyes. “Well...have any of them bugged you since? Looked at you funny at all?” Slowly, Carson shook his head. Jamie grinned softly in response and shrugged. “Then it was worth it.”

At that, Carson’s shoulders dropped from where they were bunched to his ears, and he matched Jamie’s grin when she ruffled his hair. Even as she did so, she slid the container closer to Dani, who happily took a cookie.

“Ed?” Jamie said, smirking as she shook the container at Eddie. “Biscuit for your clearly shattered nerves last week?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that,” he mumbled for what seemed the millionth time, but eventually grinned and took a cookie, “Thanks.”

The rest of the school day passed by in a blur, happy that Jamie was back, happy that things were back to normal. 

After waiting out Jamie’s detention, they all exited the school together where Jamie jostled Carson with a wide grin and egged him on into a race towards the car. Before either of them could start a proper countdown, Jamie shoved her books into Dani’s arms and took off like a shot, laughing madly. 

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Carson shouted, shoving his own books in Eddie’s arms and ran off after her.

Dani smiled broadly and shook her head as she watched them go, juggling the books in hand. Jamie, already far ahead with her speed and jumpstart, twisted her head around to shout something back at Carson, and abruptly tripped over her own feet in the slick frozen grass and went tumbling across the ground. Dani somehow managed to wince and laugh at the same time as Carson sped past Jamie’s sprawling form, pointing and cackling before tripping himself, going flying on the grass. Even Eddie managed to double over laughing with Dani as they reached the prone pair. 

When Jamie hitched along for the ride home, Mike, who had been patiently waiting with a magazine in the car, twisted in his seat to give Jamie a grin. “Nice shiner, bud. Welcome back.”

Jamie’s shoulders straightened proudly. When Dani snorted and rolled her eyes, Jamie nudged her in the ribs, and Dani quickly nudged her back, the pair grinning wide. 

But when they arrived at the O’Mara household, a strange tension coiled at Jamie’s shoulders when they stepped inside and slipped off their shoes. Dani frowned curiously at her and the tightness of her mouth and the hard grip she had on her school books that were held together by an old brown belt, an unusual apprehension about her. When they all wandered to the kitchen where Judy already set up shop, chopping at vegetables, Jamie stood even more upright. 

“Oh, there she is!” Judy said, brightening into a smile when she caught sight of them. She left her kitchen knife on the counter and made a beeline towards Jamie. “All right, come here. Let me take a look.”

At the sound of the boys snickering, Jamie’s eyes went wide as Judy carefully framed her face with her hands, gently tilting her head side to side, Judy’s face one of concentration as she studied Jamie’s bruises. “Hmm, just as I thought,” Judy said, nodding decisively and smiled wide, resting her hands on Jamie’s shoulders. “A raging case of moxie and a heart of gold.”

Underneath the bruises, Jamie’s face went red as she blinked, the tension easing from her shoulders. Judy merely laughed, and pulled her into a hug, murmuring something that Dani couldn’t hear. Jamie stood stiff before slowly returning the hug, her arms held loose and awkward.

When Judy finally pulled away, Jamie ducked her head and murmured, “Um. Thank you, Mrs. O’Mara.” She raised her head, meeting Judy’s eyes, only to drop her gaze once more. “And for the biscuits, too.”

“I should be thanking you. Carson hasn’t stopped talking about it.”

Carson sputtered, an arm elbow deep in a bag of chips he had pulled out from a cupboard. “No, I haven’t!”  

Eddie laughed, making a grab for the bag, but Carson snatched it away just in time with a scowl.

Judy hummed, unconvinced, and turned to give Dani a knowing grin. “He even mentioned what you did, Danielle,” she said, “What you did for Jamie when she first got here.” At the mention of that old memory, of stepping between Jamie and a group of bullies before they were ever friends, Dani blushed hotly, catching Jamie’s eyes as she smirked at Dani. “So, I figured, I’d make us all something special today, just for my two brave girls.”

Jamie blinked again, seemingly frozen as Dani lit up and asked, “Lasagna?”

“Got it in one,” Judy grinned, but then sobered as she looked back at Jamie, “Just please, promise me no more fights? The twins give me enough stress as it is. Not just for the sake of my own heart, but the health of your grandmother’s?”

Jamie’s mouth twisted. “Did Nan talk to you?”

“She may have mentioned it.” Judy’s face gave away nothing. 

Jamie’s brows knitted into a slight resigned frown, and slowly she nodded. Pleased, Judy grinned again and gently nudged Jamie towards Dani with a pat to her back. “You kids go wash up and do your schoolwork, and then maybe you could come help me put the lasagna together. And — “ she sighed exasperatedly, returning to the counter “ — boys, put that away before you ruin your appetite.” 

Carson nodded eagerly as Eddie groaned, his mouth full of chips, rolling the bag up and stuffing it carelessly back into the cupboard before they both shuffled out of the kitchen. Dani snorted, shaking her head after them, and turned to see Jamie stepping quietly towards her, an odd look on her face. 

When Dani led her out of the kitchen, Jamie turned to her, her eyes filled with quiet bewilderment, and slowly asked, “What just happened?”

Dani smiled faintly, recognizing the look in Jamie’s eyes, one that Dani occasionally wore herself after long days in the O’Mara household. If there were words for it, an explanation to it all, then Dani couldn’t even begin to name or explain it, so she shrugged helplessly, grinning when Jamie rolled her eyes.

Later, as Eddie and Jamie were finishing the last of their math homework at the kitchen table, and Carson and Dani helped Judy layer massive baking pans with lasagna noodles, sauce, and various fillings, they heard the sound of the front door opening and the twins crashing in.

“Is she here?” one of them called. 

“She better be here!”

Judy pointed. “She’s here.”

Tommy and David rushed into the kitchen, and made a beeline towards Jamie.

“Oh, Christ,” Jamie groaned, already tensing her shoulders. 

Judy tisked. “Language.”

Dani laughed, a warmth settling over her as she watched the twins accost Jamie, jostling her shoulders as they proudly remarked at her bruises, comparing them to their own old fighting tokens, and demanded she tell her side of the tale. Jamie tried shoving them off, grumbling and elbowing them in the ribs, but couldn't hide her wide smile.

 --

On the day after the first snowfall of the year, Jamie insisted they go for a walk.

"Don't you have snow in England?" Dani asked.

They were sitting on the back porch of Jamie's house, jamming their feet into boots. Dani was dressed in a pink puffy jacket and swaddled up with a hat and scarf. Meanwhile Jamie had haphazardly tossed on a baggy jacket over her woollen sweater with some ragged fingerless gloves, as if that ensemble would be enough protection from the cold. Years of experience of Iowa winters told Dani that would not be the case.

"Yeah, but not like -" Jamie gestured with one of her boots towards the backyard, "- this."

The blanket of snow was deep and utterly untouched, extending beyond the treeline. The front lawn was another matter entirely. Jamie had spent the previous day shovelling a path from the sidewalk to the front steps until she was pink in the face from exertion, all while Nan watched with a waiting cup of tea in hand as Jamie's reward.

Dani squinted across the glare of sunlight that glittered across the white bank of fresh snowfall. "Not sure why this is so impressive," she said. "It happens every year, and just makes it difficult to walk everywhere."

"You love it," Jamie said.

Dani made a face. "I don’t. It's so cold. And I hate slipping on the sidewalks."

"Yeah, but it means the outdoor track days are cancelled for gym class."

At that, Dani paused. "Well. Yeah. Okay. I do like that."

"Told you." Jamie grinned and Dani rolled her eyes.

Jamie stamped her heel into the final boot, and stood, holding her hands out to Dani, who grabbed hold and allowed herself to be hauled to her feet. Jamie tugged her upright with such force, that Dani — eyes wide — lost her balance, and they went toppling over backwards off the porch into the snow with a chorus of cries and laughter and a spray of white all round.

Dani shuffled into a crouch, Jamie's body warm beneath her and shaking with laughter. "You did that on purpose!"

"I didn't! I swear!" Jamie said, and her smile was so broad it beamed almost as brightly as the sun's reflection. "This, I'm doing on purpose though."

Dani screwed up her face in confusion. "What -?"

In answer, Jamie reached to either side, grabbed two handfuls of snow, and shoved them into Dani's face and neck. A burst of icy water melted down the gap in Dani's scarf, and she shrieked, rolling off Jamie and further into the bank, limbs flailing in her attempts to escape. If this had been the twins, they would have pounced, turning it into a fight to test the trammels of time. Instead, Jamie cackled with laughter and scrambled to her feet, already bounding off towards the treeline with unwieldy steps.

"C'mon!" she shouted over her shoulder.

Shaking herself off, Dani pushed herself upright and started after her, ire singing in her teeth. She slipped and caught herself and stumbled along in Jamie’s wake. Jamie's footsteps were less dainty little impressions and more great gouges taken out of the snow, as though two tracks had been dragged from the porch and off to the trees. Jamie waited for her to catch up beneath the oak from which they had hung a tire swing the two years before. Her dark hair was struck through with snow as if it were a net of clustered stars, and her eyes sparkled. Whatever vengeance Dani had been planning to exact withered and died at the root when Jamie looked at her like that.

"Where are we going?" Dani asked.

Jamie shrugged and turned, stomping away with Dani at her side. "Dunno. Wherever we like. Don't suppose that old tire dump is still a few miles that way?"

"Probably," said Dani. "Why?"

"It's the closest thing to a hill in these parts. I was thinking if it's covered in snow, we might be able to slide down it."

The logic was sound, so Dani nodded. "All right. Are there lots of hills where you're from?"

They stepped up and onto the slightly elevated ground which indicated the train tracks. When Jamie's footing slipped, Dani grabbed hold of her arm to keep her from face-planting into the snow.

"Cheers," Jamie said, but she did not let go of Dani's hand, instead weaving their fingers together and tugging Dani straight down the abandoned track line. "Some hills, yeah. Bigger than here, by far. No mountains though. I'd love to see some honest mountains."

"We can go sometime. You know -" Dani swung their arms back and forth in an exaggerated arc. "When we learn to drive. Maybe before college."

Jamie's brow furrowed. "College? That's not old enough, is it?"

"Yeah, it is. I want to go to one out of state. Somewhere -" Dani hesitated to even voice the idea, but here, alone with Jamie, a pale sky overhead and a pale earth stretching out before her for miles in every direction, she felt brave enough to admit it. "Somewhere not here."

Jamie's gloves were scratchy against her fingers. "You mean university?" she snorted. "Christ. Never imagined myself going to one of those."

"Well, why not?" Dani asked. "Doesn't your Nan want you to go?"

"Not sure if she could afford it even if she did," said Jamie dryly. "But, nah. Not for me. After this, I'm done. Can you imagine me sitting around reading books and writing papers all day? What a laugh."

Jamie chuckled and shook her head, and a fine dusting of snow was knocked loose from the shoulders of her jacket. Dani didn't join her. She contemplated the idea — finishing school here, running off somewhere else, anywhere else, incurring the wrath of her mother, who had always insisted Danielle would go to university — and found the very notion thrilling in a way that made her feel slightly ill. She swallowed, and Jamie squeezed her hand before letting go.

The train tracks were lifted just enough that they poked up through the snow, narrow twin mounds that ran for miles and miles and ended at an old shunt that was still in operation beyond the next town's fertilizer plant. Jamie stood atop one track and walked the steel. The toe of her boots brushed away any snow atop it as she went. She held her arms outstretched to balance herself, and Dani stayed within reach so that Jamie could grab onto her shoulder should she need to regain her balance.

"What do you want to do?" Dani asked.

"Don't know. Don't care," Jamie answered. "I'll figure it out. One day at a time. What about you?"

Dani cast her mind back. She considered the question carefully. Jamie's outstretched hand tapped her on the shoulder, not out of a request for her to answer, but only because Jamie was see-sawing her arms back and forth to keep her footing without needing to hop off the track.

Eventually, Dani said, "Teach kids, maybe."

Jamie snorted, and a plume of white left her mouth like a cloud. "What? Like Mary Poppins?"

Dani could feel her own cheeks burn, and knew she must have been as pink as her puffy jacket. "No," she said primly. "Like Miss Blythe."

Miss Blythe, their new homeroom teacher this year, was young and smart and pretty. She smiled a lot, and she always wore nice skirts and flowing blouses. She remembered everyone's names, and her hair was shiny and dark when she bowed her head at her desk to read their assignments. Dani couldn't think of anyone she would like to resemble so much as Miss Blythe.

Jamie shot her a grin. "You like her, don't you?"

"Of course, I like her," said Dani. “I think she’s wonderful.”

"Not like that. You like like her."

If Dani's cheeks had been flushed before, it was nothing to the way heat flooded her face now. "I -! I do not!"

"Mhmm," said Jamie, and her grin had graduated into a fully fledged smirk now. "Sure."

Dani spluttered indignantly. "That’s not -! I don't -! Well, she's very pretty, but that's hardly -! I just think she's nice. And she always treats everyone fairly. And she - she makes you feel included, and she's so good at - Stop laughing! Jamie!"

"Aw! Poor Poppins with a crush on teacher!" Jamie laughed. "Don't let Ed hear about that. He'll be jealous."

With a huff, Dani shoved at Jamie's shoulder, and Jamie staggered off into the snow — arms pinwheeling — but didn't fall down. Jamie snickered good-naturedly and stepped back into place atop the rail to continue balancing her way down the track. "You'd make a good teacher."

Dani sucked in a lungful of icy air so fast it made her chest burn. She glanced up at Jamie, who was concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. "You think so?"

"Yup," said Jamie, and for all her earlier teasing her voice now was sure and firm. She did not expand; she had only certainty. Then she added with an exaggerated shiver, "Wish we'd brought a thermos with a cuppa. Bloody freezing out here."

"I told you to bring Nan's extra scarf."

Jamie pulled a grotesque face as though she'd bitten into something rotten. "It smells like mothballs."

"Better that than be cold."

"Rather be cold than smell like pure shite."

Shaking her head, Dani reached up and unwound her own white scarf. She zipped up her jacket the rest of the way to accommodate the cold, and held the scarf out to Jamie. "Here."

Jamie blinked down at her. She lowered her arms and her steps slowed. "Really," she said. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"Just take the scarf, dummy," said Dani, shaking it at her so that one of the tasselled ends trailed from her fist.

"You get cold easier than me."

"True," Dani said. "But my jacket is puffier and I also have my hat."

Reluctantly, Jamie took the scarf with a mumbled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Dani replied and began to continue on her way.

Jamie did not immediately follow. Confused, Dani turned around after a few steps to find Jamie still staring down at the scarf with an odd expression on her face, as though she didn't quite know what to do with it.

"Do you need help?" Dani asked. "Is your collarbone okay?"

At that Jamie gave a derisive snort. "Collarbone's fine. That was ages ago, anyway."

Dani frowned. She knew Jamie was stubborn. And she knew that some sub-surface injuries could ache for years. Nan was always cursing about her knee in the cold weather, after all. She herself had never broken a bone in all twelve and a half years of her life, and had only the experiences of others to go by. 

Before she could say anything else though, Jamie had begun walking along the track again, scarf stretched between her hands. “It’s just -” she lifted it round her neck “- still warm. Wasn’t really expecting -”

It happened in an instant. One moment, Jamie was balancing her way across the rail track. The next, she had slipped headlong and was writhing on the ground, gloved hands clutching her face. Dani’s eyes went wide. A splash of red sliced all across the snow. 

“Fuck!” Jamie’s shout was muffled into her palms. “Fuck!” 

“Jamie!”

Stumbling forward, Dani rushed to her side. As gently as she could, she pulled Jamie’s hands away from her face. The honed and frosted edge of the old railway track had split a broad line along Jamie’s chin and lower lip, so that the skin there had burst at the seams like the flesh of an overripe fruit. Blood dripped steadily from Jamie’s chin and the line of her jaw, splattering the ivory-coloured scarf around her neck with wine-dark splotches.

“Are you all right?” Dani asked, trembling hands still holding Jamie by the wrists. 

Jamie’s eyes were squeezed shut. She nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely peachy. Shit -!” Her tongue darted out and she hissed when the tip of it touched the gash in her lip. 

“Here.” Dani grabbed the ends of the scarf and pressed them tightly against the wound, stemming the flow of blood. 

Jamie tried to pull away. “Your scarf - It’ll get all -”

“Who cares about the scarf?” Dani said, and she wound the scarf in such a way that it could act as makeshift gauze. Even after it was tied and tethered in place, her fingers lingered against the warm skin of Jamie’s neck. She brushed her thumbs against the bluffs of Jamie’s cheeks, rubbing away a smatter of blood there. “Let’s get you home. You’ll probably need to see a doctor and get stitches.”

Jamie’s eyes were wide and she was staring up at her. The scarf bobbed as she opened and closed her mouth, but said nothing. Then she winced. “Yeah. Yeah, all right.” 

Dropping her hand to Jamie’s shoulder, Dani helped her up and guided her around so they could slowly make their way back to the house. Jamie shivered, and Dani draped her arm across her shoulders to huddle her closer, so that their hips jostled when they walked. When Jamie made a soft noise muffled by the scarf, Dani stole a glance at her profile.

“Does it hurt a lot?” she asked.

Jamie shook her head. Then after a pause she nodded in defeat. She groaned faintly. “Nan’s gonna kill me," she mumbled. "Again.” 

 --

"Danielle, slow down!"

Reluctantly Dani did as asked, her boots skidding to a walk. The street between Dani's house and the O'Mara residence was deep with snow. Christmas morning was crisp, the sky a blue so bright it almost hurt to look at. Her breath shivered on the air, and her mother's fingers were bright with the spot of an ember from a lit cigarette. Karen had a hastily wrapped present beneath one arm, while Dani carried the rest, so that she crinkled with foil paper and excitement with every step.

Dani reached the front door first and bounced on the balls of her feet until her mother arrived. Sighing, her mother flicked the cigarette into a bank of snow, where it hissed and vanished in a thread of smoke. Judy was the only person Dani knew who observed a strict ‘no smoking indoors’ policy. Not due to any health benefits, but because she complained that cigarette smoke stained the wallpaper yellow. The moment Karen stood beside her on the top step, Dani reached out to ring the doorbell only for her mother to stop her with a hand on Dani's cheek.

"Look at you. What a mess," her mother muttered, licking the pad of her thumb and using it to rub at a spot of syrup on Dani's cheek, all pink from the cold.

"Mom," Dani whined, but when Karen gave her a look she went quiet. Her nose scrunched up and she closed one eye until Karen deemed her suitable for company.

"I told you to wash your face before we left," Karen said. "Obviously I wasn't worth listening to."

"Sorry," Dani mumbled.

Lowering her hand, Karen made an abrupt gesture towards the door. Dani did not wait a second longer to push the doorbell. She could hear the two-toned chime inside followed by the sound of thudding footsteps, and then Eddie wrenched open the door. His face broke into a beaming smile when he saw who it was.

"You made it!"

"Merry Christmas," Dani said, returning his smile.

"Come on. Let's get these under the tree." Eddie reached out to take some of the presents, but froze when Karen cleared her throat pointedly. "Uh - I mean -" he pushed his glasses further up his nose and shuffled his feet. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Clayton. Won't you please come inside? My mom and dad are in the kitchen making coffee."

"Thank you," said Karen and as she stepped past him into the house, she pressed the present she was carrying into his hands.

They waited awkwardly for her to take off her boots and leave them on the towel stretched out in the foyer for just that purpose. Only when she had left did Eddie turn back to Dani, "Bad morning?" he asked.

Dani shrugged. "Not really. Just normal."

"Ah.” Eddie nodded in solemn understanding, then gave her a smile. “Okay. Here let me take those." He freed her arms of presents so Dani could take off her own boots and coat and scarf. Then he shut the door with his foot and nodded towards the living room beyond. "Let's go."

Every inch of the living room had been transformed by the addition of Christmas decorations strewn about — wreaths and holly, pine cones and tinsel, a tree that scraped the ceiling and a nativity set on the mantelpiece over the crackling fireplace. Tommy and David were already bickering over a card game, while Carson looked on, whining about not being dealt a hand. 

“C’mon,” he said. “I wanna play, too!”

“You can’t,” said Tommy, frowning down at his hand.

“But it’s better with more people! Why is it you two always do stuff alone!”

David drew a card and shrugged, sharing a secret grin with Tommy. “It’s a twin thing,” he said.

The moment Carson saw that Dani had entered the room however, his eyes lit up and he abandoned his older brothers.

“Hi!” he said, rushing forward. “Need help with those?”

Without waiting for an answer, he took what remained of the presents still in Dani’s hands and went with Eddie to place them under the tree with the mound of other presents already assembled there. Dani could see him looking over the presents she had brought for any sign of names, and when he found his own he tossed down the others in favor of shaking the box to determine its contents.

“Knock it off!” Eddie swatted the back of Carson’s head and took the present from him.

“Hey! That’s mine!” 

Carson tried to snatch the present back, but Eddie held it high above his head where Carson couldn’t reach. 

“Mom!” Carson called out towards the kitchen. “Eddie took my present!”

“Edmund, give Carson back his present!” Judy’s voice called from the other room over the murmur of adults sequestering themselves away for as long as possible before they had to face the onslaught of kids with too much sugar in their systems for ten in the morning.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie shoved the box into Carson’s chest, so that Carson grunted and had to take a step back. “Whatever,” Eddie said. “Just don’t open it before everyone else gets here.”

"Who else is coming?" Carson asked. He turned the box over a few more times and shook it, only to give up and put it beneath the tree.

"Jamie and Nan," Dani said.

"Oh! Great!" said Carson. "More presents!"

Dani glanced around towards Tommy and David, but the twins were engrossed in a way that she knew meant they wouldn't be open to intruders — especially not ones they thought were young and annoying. So, she instead said, "Monopoly?"

Eddie scratched at the side of his head, dark curls mussed beneath his fingers. "Kind of a long game to start. Don't you think?"

"Well -" said Dani, but Carson had already darted towards a wooden chest that doubled as a coffee table, opening it to pull out the Monopoly board.

"I get to be the dog!" Carson called out, yanking open the box's lid and setting up the board on the floor before the Christmas tree.

Eddie sighed, but Dani just smiled at him. She grabbed his arm and hauled him over to play a game while they waited. Dani picked the unassuming little iron token, and led the other two on a merry chase around the board. Fake paper money slowly flowed onto her side of the board, neatly tucked away in piles of descending order, whilst Eddie and Carson frowned and puzzled over how she managed it.

"You're cheating," Eddie said with narrowed eyes behind his round spectacles. "I don't know how, but you're cheating."

Dani held out her hand primly towards Carson, who was glum as he counted out bills and pressed them into her waiting palm. "I am not cheating," she said. "Carson, you've stiffed me twenty dollars."

Carson screwed up his face and stuck his tongue out at her, but handed over the final twenty that he'd slipped beneath his leg in the hopes that she wouldn't notice.

"Thank you," she said in a light sing-song tone that made Carson harrumph wordlessly in reply.

Eddie craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall. "Where are they?"

Dani glanced up from where she was dividing up her cash into their respective piles. An hour had come and gone, and still no sign of the others. As if summoned, there was a knock at the door.

"Thank god," Carson muttered, darting to his feet and scampering towards the door. "Game's over. Dani cheated."

"I didn't cheat!" she called after him, exasperated.

But Carson was already pulling open the door, and she could hear his voice floating into the living room from down the hall. "Hi, Jamie! Hi Mrs. Heron! You're late!"

"Don't just say that!" Eddie shouted. Then he shook his head and began helping Dani clean up the board. "Still don't know how you managed to get all those hotels."

"Maybe if you're nice to me, I'll tell you," Dani teased.

Going stock still, Eddie blinked at her.

"What?" Dani asked slowly.

The odd expression on his face washed away like yesterday's sunlight, and he shook his head with a huff of nervous laughter. “Nothing.” 

Briefly puzzled, she watched him place the lid back over the box and put the game away. There was movement at the edges of her vision, and when Dani looked up it was to find Nan and Jamie removing their coats and hanging them on hooks that lined the wall by the door. Jamie was brushing snow from her long hair, brow furrowed, while her other hand was balancing gifts that were expertly wrapped, not a crease or fold out of place. The gash slicing through her chin and lower lip had healed somewhat since their last fiasco — the stitches removed — but the skin around it stretched and pulled, looking reddened and angry.

Dani waved and Jamie’s expression brightened. Jamie started towards her, only for Nan to reach out and haul her back by the scruff of her neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nan said. “Shoes off. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

With an extra exaggerated roll of her eyes for good measure, Jamie leaned over to undo her laces and rid herself of her snow-dusted boots. 

Judy emerged from the kitchen. "Oh, Ruth! I'm so glad you could make it! Do you want coffee?"

Nan shook her head and began limping in her direction. "No, thank you, Judy. Just some boiled water for me should do the trick." As she went, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a ziploc bag filled with tea bags.

Judy smiled. "Sure thing. I'll stick a mug of water in the microwave for you."

Judy disappeared back into the kitchen, and Nan's expression was completely horrified. Dani watched this interaction and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Nan noticed and glowered. "Think that's funny, do you?"

Dani shook her head furiously. "No, ma'am. It's just — they don't have a kettle."

Nan sighed. "Uncivilized country." And, muttering to herself, she retreated into the kitchen after Judy to meet her fate.

Footsteps padded across the carpet and Jamie approached. "Can I put these down?" she asked, cradling a small tower of packages.

"Yeah, of course," said Eddie, darting up to help.

"Sorry we're late," Jamie said as they arranged the last of the presents beneath the tree. "Nan's fussy about wrapping. Likes everything to be perfect."

"They look really nice," Dani assured her, admiring the pristine packaging with a tilt of her head.

Jamie snorted. "Made me do that one three times. And then I had to clean up everything before we left."

"Mom!" Carson yelled, running so fast down the hall towards the kitchen that he skidded across the wooden flooring in a blur. "Mom! Everyone's here! Can we open presents now? Please?"

Jamie arched an eyebrow after him. "He always this mental during the holidays?" she asked.

"Yes," said both Dani and Eddie in unison.

"Don't see what all the fuss is about, personally."

"Well," said Eddie, drawling out the word in a thoughtful manner, "Getting new stuff is always nice."

At that, Jamie seemed a bit dubious. She scratched contemplatively at the raised pink tissue of her chin until Dani reached out to still her hand.

"You shouldn't scratch," Dani said.

Curling her fingers into a fist, Jamie dropped her own hand into her lap, looking churlish. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Still itches, though." And then her eyes skimmed over Dani’s outfit, blinking, as though now just noticing it. “Why do you look like you just jumped out of one of your mum’s catalogues?”

“Because I did,” Dani said, fighting back a sigh. “Or well, the dress did. Mom got it for me for Christmas.” 

Dani glanced down at the outfit in question, a long sleeved dark green dress with a red floral pattern by the hem and a lace neckline. It was a dress that felt more suited to warmer weather, the thin material doing next to nothing to help keep Dani warm, regardless of the white tights she wore or how warm Judy kept the house. What Dani didn’t mention was that while it wasn’t a terrible dress, she’d had a completely different outfit in mind this morning, but when she had pulled out the dress from its box, her mom had held it up to the length of Dani with such a wide pleased smile and demanded that Dani wear it in a tone the brooked no room for argument. 

Jamie scanned over the dress again, humming in contemplation, and shrugged. “Looks nice, actually,” she said, catching Dani’s eyes and giving her a grin. 

Before Dani could respond, her cheeks warm, the kitchen door opened and the parents began to filter out into the living room. The Christmas tree sparkled, casting a warm glow against Jamie's profile as she craned her neck to watch. Dani barely registered everyone else, and when Jamie turned to find her staring, Dani smiled.

With a befuddled smile of her own, Jamie asked, "What?"

Dani shrugged. "It's just nice to have you over."

"I come over here all the time."

"Yeah, but this is different."

"If you say so."

The couches and armchairs were quickly taken up by adults, while anyone under the age of eighteen was forced to continue sitting on the floor. Nan lowered herself into a chair with care, maneuvering her cup of tea and her cane. Karen perched herself idly on the arm of the couch right beside Judy, sipping on a cup of coffee. Mike sat by his wife, looking tired but content in his Argyle patterned sweater vest and matching socks.

"All right -" Judy started.

"Me first!" Carson blurted out, diving for the nearest present with his name on it.

With a grin and a rueful shake of her head, Judy motioned towards Eddie and Dani. “Just start passing everything around, won’t you?”

Nodding, Dani and Eddie reached for the presents. Dani read out the name scrawled across the wrapping paper and handed it over to Mike, who had to lean half out of the sofa to take it with a smile and a murmured, "Thanks." Carson was already ripping the paper off of a racing kit set for toy cars, but Dani set one of her own presents aside until everyone else had one in their hands. She kept her eyes on Jamie sitting next to her, as Jamie turned over a lumpy package that Dani had wrapped just earlier that morning. The expression on Jamie's face was both odd and awed, as if she couldn't quite believe that she had received presents at all. Every now and then she would dart her eyes towards Nan like she was checking to see that she was even allowed to do this, to be here, surrounded by people who liked her enough to buy her gifts.

Dani nudged Jamie's elbow with her own. "Open it," she said.

Jamie did not immediately do so. She turned the package over once more before carefully running her thumb beneath a fold in the wrapping, tearing through a scrap of tape holding the pieces together. Dani opened the present from Jamie at the same time — which was far better wrapped than her own — and the two of them blinked at each other in startled confusion when they each revealed a scarf.

"I got you one because I ruined yours," Jamie said.

"Well, I got you one because you don't have one," said Dani.

They held each other's gazes for a beat longer, until they cracked and snorted with laughter.

"Okay," Jamie said with a grin. "We're dumb."

"Funny, though," Dani replied.

Jamie shook her head, but her smile was broad as she leaned across Dani to reach for another present beneath the tree. "Hey, Ed," she said, tossing the present towards him. "This one's for you."

Eddie caught the gift. "Thanks. I wonder what it could be," he said dryly, weighing the package that was so clearly in the shape of a baseball mitt it would be impossible to mistake.

"A cricket bat, maybe," Jamie said.

Eddie made a face at her, but when he opened the gift to reveal a brand new mitt, his voice was warm when he said, "My old one is falling apart. Thanks, Jamie."

"Thank Nan. I can't afford shit."

"Language!" Nan barked, while at the same time Judy scolded, "Jamie Taylor!"

Jamie ducked her head and grimaced, reaching for another gift and handing it off to one of the twins. "Whoops," she muttered under her breath, not sounding sorry at all.

Dani shook her head but smiled. One by one the gifts were parceled out until Judy's living room floor was a mess of shredded wrapping paper and opened boxes spilling out with packing peanuts and bubble wrap. David and Tommy fought over who got to play the Mattel Electronics Football Game first. Carson had encloistered himself in a corner nearest the fireplace and was busy setting up his racing kit set with a single-minded focus, tongue between his teeth. Dani smiled at a jar labelled 'Travel Fund' that she had received from Jamie in a rucksack that already had a US flag patch sewn onto the red canvas fabric with space left for other future flags. And all of them had received a signature sweater from Judy, which was ugly beyond compare and which made Karen's face pucker up when Dani immediately pulled it on over her dress.

"Do they have to look like that?" Karen asked.

"What?" said Judy with a guileless shrug. "They're warm!"

Sighing, Karen stood and started towards the kitchen. "I'll put on another pot of coffee."

"Ruth, do you want another cup of boiling water for your tea?" Judy asked.

Nan's answering smile looked forced. "Cheers, but I'll be right."

Most of the presents had now been opened. Mike had pulled on a new pair of socks — the same gift he received every year, but which he always seemed pleased — and Eddie was fiddling with a pair of walkie talkies, trying to figure out how they worked.

"Hey, dad?" he asked. "Do we have any batteries?"

"Garage," Mike said, and Eddie went off in search, taking the walkie talkie set with him.

"Bring back some double As for me, too!" Jamie called after him. She waved with the pocket transistor radio that she'd been given by Judy and Mike, and which hadn't left her lap since she had first opened it with wide eyes.

"Yeah, sure," answered Eddie.

Dani ducked down to reach the last of the gifts hidden beneath the low-slung branches, dragging them out into the light. "This one's for -" she tilted her head and twisted the package around. "- Jamie. From Nan."

Jamie opened the gift and rolled her eyes. "A new pair of gardening gloves," she said in a deadpan voice, holding up the leather gloves. "Joy of joys."

"Ones that fit this time," said Nan, nodding. "And if you lose this pair like you did the last, you'll be paying for the next yourself."

Jamie grumbled something under her breath.

Nan sniffed. "In my day, we were thankful if a bomb didn't drop on us during Christmas."

"Oh my god. The Blitz is over, Nan. Give it a rest," Jamie groaned, but dutifully set the gloves aside atop her transistor radio.

From the couch, Judy gestured towards one of the remaining presents with the toe of her slipper. "Danielle, there's another one there for you that you missed."

"Oh." Dani turned it over to see that it was labelled for her from the O'Maras. While she opened it, beside her Jamie began pulling on every article of clothing she had received as a gift — sweater, scarf, and garden gloves — until she was wrapped up and ready to brave the elements at the drop of a hat. Dani grinned at her, but then blinked in surprise at the box beneath the wrapping paper portraying a new polaroid camera.

"Oh, wow," she breathed.

Hastily, Dani pushed aside the wrapping paper and pulled open the box. The camera was small enough to fit in both her hands. She fiddled with it, reading the instructions so she could point the camera and squint into the eyepiece at Jamie. Through the lens, Jamie's figure was slightly distorted. Jamie turned, saw the camera aimed in her direction, and waved. Dani pressed a button down, and there was a resultant click, a flash and whir, and a square slip of film was spat out by the camera. Lowering it, she tugged at the film. Its surface was greyish, the image slowly taking hold, a silhouette as faintly visible as a specter cast in watery sunlight.

"This the last one?"

Dani's head jerked up before she could watch the image fully materialize. When she saw Jamie inspecting the final present to be unwrapped, she set the camera and the square strip of film down. "Yeah. That one's from me."

Jamie's eyebrows rose. "But you already got me something," she said. She took off the gardening gloves and tugged at the scarf wound about her neck, tossing both onto the ground.

"I wanted to get you something else, too," Dani said.

Jamie stared at her for a moment, her expression unreadable. In the background, Tommy had wrestled the handheld video game from his twin brother. Mike and Nan were chatting away about something boring and adult — war and history, perhaps. Judy had leaned back against the couch, neck craned so she could peer into the kitchen and say something to Karen, who was standing in the doorway with an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. Dani smiled and made a motion for Jamie to open her final gift.

Clearing her throat, Jamie began unwrapping the present, taking great pains not to rip a single section of the paper no matter how hastily wrapped in the first place. The box beneath was small, small enough to fit in Jamie's palm. Brows furrowed, she opened it and sucked in a lungful of air. The two identical necklaces entwined inside were cheap and plated, but they gleamed in the Christmas tree lights when Jamie pulled them from their box, sinuous chains pinched between thumb and forefinger.

"Why are there two?" Jamie asked.

"One for you," said Dani, reaching out and taking a necklace with a self-satisfied grin. "And one for me."

Even after Dani had put her own necklace on, Jamie remained frozen in place. The simple chain rotated slowly in place, suspended from her hand, and the half dollar piece pierced midway down the length was a match to the coin that now hung at the hollow of Dani's throat.

"Mike helped me drill the holes," Dani said proudly. "But the rest I did myself."

Jamie swallowed, her throat working, but she said nothing.

Dani frowned and said slowly, "Do you want this one instead?" She lifted the chain away from her neck with her thumb. 

Jerking as if from a reverie, Jamie shook her head. "No," she said. She cleared her throat and continued, “No, I like this one. Thank you.” 

“Dad, I can’t find them!” Eddie’s voice called from down the hall. 

Sighing, Mike pushed himself to his feet and went off to help look for batteries. “Did you check the drawer above the tool set, bud?”

“I did!” Eddie insisted. “They’re not there!”

Jamie was tugging aside her braid so she could fasten the necklace in place beneath it. Behind her, Judy leaned forward in her seat. “Jamie, I told Mike that you were working on that old bike you found.”

Glancing up at her, Jamie gave a nod that she was listening.

“And,” Judy continued, “he said you’re welcome to bring the bike around any time to work on it over here. If you need tools or spare parts, the garage is your oyster.” 

Jamie lowered her hands and the necklace was a silvery glimmer that hung down her chest, disappearing beneath the neck of her sweater. “Thanks, Mrs. O’Mara.” 

“Please. Call me Judy.”

From the sidelines, Nan lifted a finger to point threateningly at Jamie and growled, “Do not do that.”

Jamie gave Judy an apologetic grin and lifted both hands, palms up, as if in surrender. Judy laughed fondly, eyes bright as she watched Jamie resettle her braid. “Honey, you have such beautiful long hair, why didn’t you leave it open today?”

Nan snorted. “Hell would have to freeze over for that girl to leave her hair down.”

Visibly fighting back a scowl, Jamie shrugged and offered Judy a weak smile. “Just gets in the way, is all.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t have to worry about that if you’d let me help,” Judy said, “We could tie some of it back and tame those curls to some lovely waves like Danielle’s hair.”

At the mention of Dani’s hair, Jamie’s eyes darted to the loose blonde waves cascading over Dani’s shoulders, and both Dani and Judy laughed when Jamie failed to hide her wince. 

Meanwhile in the nearby corner, Carson threw down a piece of plastic car track in exasperation. “Jamie,” he called across the room. “Can you help me build this? It’s not working.”

“Sure. Hold up.” Seeing her chance to escape, Jamie quickly stood and wandered over to him, crouching down before the warren of track he had assembled already. “What on earth have you done?”

“I followed the instructions!” Carson whined, holding up a piece of paper.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Jamie snatched the instructions from his hand, then rolled them up to lightly smack him over the head with the pages. He spluttered and slapped her hand away.

“Look at them,” Judy said to Nan while they watched Jamie help Carson set up the toy car track. “Aren’t they cute together?”

“Bit young for that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

“Well, she did defend him from all those bullies. And afterwards, Carson spoke of nothing else. It was ‘Jamie this’ and ‘Jamie that’ for a week solid.”

Jamie overheard the adults talking. She shared a befuddled look with Dani and then mimed being sick. Beside her, Carson had gone bright red, trying and failing to pretend he hadn’t heard anything, while Dani bit back a smile. 

“Gross,” Carson said under his breath.

“You can say that again,” Jamie muttered.

“Gross.” 

“That’s the spirit. Now, hand me that bit of track over there. No, no, the other one.”

Dani’s gaze dropped to the picture she had taken. She picked it up from the carpet to inspect it more closely. It had finally taken form, and she smiled at the image of Jamie’s half-hidden grin behind a big scarf, her hand bulky from the gardening gloves and blurred from movement. Tucking it away for safekeeping, Dani lifted the camera into her hands once more and pointed it in Jamie and Carson’s direction for another picture. 

Much later after lunch, still laughing at the way Nan had spooked Mike and the twins into action to clear the dining room table and clean up the dishes with just a single look and comment, Dani and the others had taken to testing out the limits of Eddie’s walkie talkies around the house. At the moment, she and Jamie were holed up in the upstairs bathroom with one set while Eddie and Carson were running around with the other.

“Can you hear me now? Over.” Eddie’s voice came through the speakers, tinny and muffled. 

“Yeah,” Dani responded, “Where are you?”

“You’re supposed to say Over,” Eddie said, “Over.”

Jamie sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling the walkie talkie in Dani’s hand close to her mouth, pressing down on Dani’s thumb that she held over the push to talk button. “Just answer the question, you tit.”

Dani snorted as Eddie grumbled on the other side. “Hold on,” he said, and then a beat passed before he said, “We’re in the garage, how about now?”

“Loud and clear, soldier,” Jamie said dryly and let go of the walkie talkie to turn to Dani with a glint in her eyes, “Y’know, I reckon this thing could even reach beyond your house. Could you imagine putting one under his bed and being able to scare the shite out of him and he wouldn’t even know you were a block away.”

Dani laughed, but said, “That’s mean.”

“Oh, come off it. You’ve thought about it.”

In truth, Dani hadn’t. While Carson had already laid claim to one half of the set much to Eddie’s annoyance, Eddie had already quietly offered Dani to share so they’d could have conversations between their houses without Dani having to come over or hog the house phone. It was a sweet offer, and a tempting one, being able to talk to Eddie whenever she wanted, but looking at Carson’s eager expression, she couldn’t bear to take away the excitement from him. 

“Nope,” Dani replied, ignoring Jamie’s dubious look, and continued, “What I am thinking about though, is if there’s any cookies left downstairs.”

Jamie’s eyes lit up just as Eddie’s voice returned. “Okay, we’re in the basement, how about now?”

Taking the walkie talkie from Dani, Jamie said, “Perfectly. Are Tweedledee and Tweedledum down there yet?”

“Yeah,” Eddie replied.

“Ask them if they’ve eaten all the biscuits yet.”

“Biscuits?”

Jamie huffed. “Cookies,” she said, then pulled her finger off the button to mutter, “Christ's sake, you Yanks.”

Snorting again, Dani gave Jamie a curious look, but Jamie just grinned at her until Eddie finally responded, “They said no, but they laughed so I’m not really sure.”

“Means they probably left the shite kind,” Jamie said, “Doesn’t matter, I’ve got a plan. Dani’s gonna run down to grab us a plate, and I’m gonna sneak out to her house to see if this thing can reach there.”

Dani’s eyes went wide.

“Roger that, over and out,” Eddie said, and then there was silence.

“Jamie,” Dani hissed, “Nan will kill you.”

The look Jamie gave her was exasperated. “You’d think she’d done it by now after everything, yeah?”

That made Dani pause, recollecting all the moments when she was sure Nan was about to pop a blood vessel, but never once did anything more beyond a light thwack on the head with her hand or on the ankle with her cane.

Seeing the realization creep onto Dani’s face, Jamie grinned. “See? Won’t take but a minute,” she said, already rushing out the bathroom door. 

“Wear a jacket,” Dani called out, and in response, Jamie grinned and saluted her with two fingers before disappearing. 

Sighing, Dani waited a minute to give Jamie the time to sneak out without making too big of a scene and then finally descended the stairs. When she reached the ground floor with no Jamie in sight, Dani carefully peeked into the living room to see that all of the adults were none the wiser, Christmas music playing on low as they talked and laughed, the tv playing some movie on mute. The only thing that was curious, was that her mom was missing. Shrugging, Dani ventured off to the kitchen. 

True to word, there were cookies left, and just as Jamie had said, they were the kind that would always be left for last on the plate or in the tin. But cookies were cookies, so Dani began helping herself pile some on a plate for the four of them, and just as she decided that some milk would do nicely to go with it, her mother wandered into the kitchen from the back door. Her hand jerked back from the fridge door handle when her mother caught sight of her and the plate of cookies on the counter. 

“Cookies? Danielle, you just had a big lunch,” Karen said, stepping closer with a near empty glass of wine in hand, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and smelling strong of fresh cigarette smoke. 

Dani shrugged, and murmured, “We wanted snacks.”

Her mother sighed, a hand on her hip, her eyes darting over Dani’s sweater. Dani looked away, shying away from her mother’s scrutiny, her shoulders bunching up. “Are you going to wear that all day?” Karen asked. “It’s covering up your pretty dress.”

“I like it,” Dani said, chancing a glance up at her mother to see her mouth slowly twist into a displeased frown. Dani quickly added, “It’s warm, and-and it’s a little cold, so I thought — “

“Danielle, if you didn’t like the dress, all you had to do was say so,” Karen said, her voice sharp, taking another step closer. 

Dani blinked up at her, taking a step back until she was pressing against the counter. “I didn’t — I didn’t say that,” Dani murmured, her hands clenched into fists. “I like it. It’s just cold.”

Gradually, the firm lines of her mother’s face cleared until she was staring down at Dani with a near unrecognizable expression. Her mother glanced down at the glass in her hand for a moment before slowly holding it out to Dani. Frowning, Dani looked down at it. Dark red wine swirled in the glass, just only a mouthful left. She had lost track by now since escaping deeper into the house with the others; she couldn’t tell if this was the third glass after the first two Dani counted her mother having during lunch, or if this was somewhere in the realm of the fourth or fifth. 

Dani glanced back up to give her mother a questioning look. “Try it,” Karen said, gesturing with the glass. The wine swirled dangerously near the lip of the glass. “Just a sip.”

Hesitantly, Dani unclenched one fist and reached out to the glass, slowly taking it from her mother’s grasp. She swallowed hard, staring down at the ominous burgundy liquid, and darted her eyes back up to her mother for any sharp glint in her eyes, any tension to the corners of her mouth, any clue to see if this was some trick, some test. But her mother only breathed out a laugh and murmured, “Go on.”

Taking a second to gather her courage, Dani lifted the glass to her mouth and took a small sip, and almost immediately twisted up her face. It was bitter, settling heavy and thick on her tongue even as she swallowed it down. Her mom laughed at the expression on her face as Dani pushed the glass back in her hand, wine still remaining at the bottom. 

Dani wiped her mouth as though the motion could remove the sour taste in her mouth. Her mom stepped away, still laughing and lifting a finger from the glass to point at Dani. “Consider yourself lucky,” she said, “The first drink my father ever let me try was scotch when I was nine. Now that burned.”

That made Dani pause, staring at her mom as she downed the rest of the wine with ease. It wasn’t often her mother spoke of Dani’s grandfather. “He always used to do that,” Karen said, a rueful look in her glassy eyes, “He was always such a sweet man when he was drinking, like it was the only way he knew how to show affection. But when he was sober though —” her mother chuckled, a short bitter thing “ — that was an entirely different story.”

Dani stood frozen, watching her mother swallow thickly and clear her throat, opening a cabinet to pull out a bottle of wine. An uncomfortable churning began in Dani’s stomach, though she couldn’t tell if it was from the sip of wine she tasted, or from watching her mother pour herself another glass, more than she had in previous drinks. As though sensing Dani’s discomfort, her mother stared at her, resting the bottle on the kitchen table with a heavy ominous thud.

“Don’t you start,” Karen said, her eyes suddenly and inexplicably hardened. 

“Start what?” Dani asked, her eyes darting up to her mother’s, curling further into the hunch of her shoulders. She hadn’t done anything beyond stare at the wine with some measure of concern, but at the sight of mother’s face shadowed with a severe frown, Dani knew immediately that she had misstepped somewhere over the course of the day. 

“You think I haven’t seen your little looks all day? Counting? Judging?”

Dani could hear it then, the slight slur to her mother’s voice. Could see it in her piercing glassy eyes. Could feel it in the way her mother stepped closer again, her shoulders tense and feet moving with purpose. The urge to run struck Dani hard in the chest, but she remained frozen, pressing back harder into the counter behind her as her mother loomed over her.

“I didn’t - I wasn’t doing anything,” Dani stuttered, her heart crashing against her ribs. 

Karen scoffed. “No? So, I imagined it then. Like a fool.”

“N-no, I — “ Unable to look her mother in the eyes anymore, Dani bowed her head to stare at the ground, her feet so small compared to her mother’s stocking covered pair. 

“You couldn’t give me just this one day, Danielle,” Karen said, “You know how hard Christmas can be for me.”

Dani nodded, words trapped in her throat. Her mother exhaled sharply. “You always have to do this, don’t you?” Karen said, her voice low and acrid with strained bitterness. “First with the sweater, and now this.”

The words seemed to wrap around Dani’s heart and clench painfully tight until a dull but deep ache spread across her chest, leaving her throat thick and her eyes burning. Any cheer or joy Dani had managed to revel in throughout the day seemed to slip away and vanish like a cloud of smoke. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally murmured, “I won’t do it again.”

Her mother scoffed again, and just when it felt like she was about to say something else, there was a distinct tapping sound nearing the kitchen. Her mother paused, and after what felt like an eternity, Dani watched her feet step away with a sigh. All at once it felt like Dani could breathe again. She glanced up as the tapping cane came closer, and fiddled with the cookies on the plate. 

“Ruth,” Karen said, her voice sounding so clear, as if nothing had just transpired, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

Dani reached for a cookie and bit into it, with nothing else to distract her from the roiling in her stomach and the thickness in her throat. 

“None for me, thank you,” Nan said, stepping towards the sink, “Afraid I’ve damned myself to another cup of microwaved tea. Dani, be a dear and fetch me the milk.”

At the sound of her name — her preferred name — Dani jumped, twisting around to blink at Nan who was already busy filling her cup with water from the tap. Dani stared, frozen for a moment before jumping into action, setting down her cookie to pull out the carton of milk from the fridge without looking in her mother’s direction. After a moment of contemplation as Nan heated up her mug in the microwave, Dani helped herself and poured the glass of milk she had wanted for the cookies in the first place, a noticeable tremble in her hands. 

With nothing more to do, Dani stood there staring at the glass, the room eerily silent save for the buzzing hum of the microwave, until — 

“Dani,” Nan said. Jerking just slightly out of her reverie, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes darted to Nan who was watching her steadily, soft around the edges and so unfamiliar that Dani could do nothing but blink. Nan gestured her head towards the kitchen entrance, and murmured, “They’re all waiting for you downstairs, love.”

Dani nodded, biting her lip hard at the unrelenting feeling of her mother’s piercing gaze on her back. She picked up the plate and glass of milk and slowly made her way out of the room, her head ducked. In between the moments of taking her leave from the kitchen and gradually making her way down the stairs towards the basement, Dani’s heart settled and she managed to push down the lump in her throat, but the ache in her chest remained. 

When she reached downstairs, the room packed with mismatched furniture and a tv in the corner that was surrounded by the boys arguing over which program or movie to watch, there was Jamie, laughing brightly with her cheeks flushed red and her hair cluttered in a starburst of melting snow. But when Jamie turned, catching her eyes, instead of a smile Dani expected, victorious from her quick jaunt outside, Jamie frowned and started towards her. 

“You all right?” Jamie asked, her eyes darting between Dani’s. 

Dani nodded, her mouth pulling into a smile. “Yeah, of course,” she said, and held up the plate for Jamie to see, “These cookies just really suck.”

Jamie glanced down at the plate before returning her gaze to Dani, arching a disbelieving eyebrow. 

“Seriously, I think there’s raisins in them,” Dani added. Pulling her mouth into a thin line, Jamie took the plate and glass from her hand to set them on a nearby table. Dani frowned. “Hey, wha — “ 

“C’mon,” Jamie said, grabbing her hand and pulling her back towards the stairs. “I want to show you something.”

Dani’s stomach twisted. “Jamie — “

“S’alright,” Jamie said, turning to grin at her, her eyes soft. “You’ll like it, I promise.”

Slowly, Dani’s mouth shut, Jamie’s cold hand squeezing her own in a careful grip. Dani couldn’t help but match Jamie’s grin and follow her back up the stairs, the pull of her hand insistent but gentle as she guided Dani up to the second floor towards a window on the landing that overlooked the backyard. 

“C’mon, take a look,” Jamie said, leaning against the windowsill with a smile over her shoulder at Dani, their hands still clasped.

Shooting Jamie a puzzled grin, Dani stood next to her to look out the window, and felt her breath catch in her chest. Outside, flurries of white gently floated down from the sky in a dance to unheard music. 

“Pretty, right?” Jamie asked, her voice unusually soft. Dani nodded, her eyes wide as she stared up at the sky, the sound of Christmas music muffled through the floor. And then, Jamie carefully said, “Dunno why it seemed like you just went through the ringer in the minute I was outside, but I felt like this could cheer you up a bit.”

Dani squeezed the hand in her own, feeling the ghost of the pressure returned. “It did,” Dani said softly, “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jamie murmured, and then added, “You wanna come over soon? Escape your mum for a bit? We could eat leftovers ‘til we’re sick and make Nan watch White Christmas again? She may actually try to kill us this time, but worth the risk.” 

Dani laughed, feeling an inexplicable lightness to her shoulders and chest, the aching pressure gone. Dani turned to catch Jamie’s eyes, only to see that Jamie was already staring at her with a pleased grin. “Yeah, I’d love to,” Dani said, her smile wide, and Jamie’s hand warm in her own.

 --

The first thing Jamie said when she opened the door was, "You've got to help me."

Dani blinked in surprise. She stood, dumb-struck, on Jamie's front step with an overnight bag slung over her shoulder. Night was already swiftly descending even though it was only six in the evening. Behind her headlights like a pair of eyes flashed through the gloom against the windows as her mother's car pulled away from the curb, where moments before Dani had hopped out and trotted up to Jamie's house without a backward glance. Dani glanced down to where Jamie's fist was clenched around a pair of kitchen scissors, spotted with rust.

"What -?" she asked, and had barely enough time to toe off her snow-struck shoes before Jamie was grabbing her by the wrist and hauling her inside, shutting the door with a kick of her socked foot.

"Shh! Keep it down!" Jamie hissed.

Her head whipped around to see if anyone had heard them, but the living room was empty and there were no tell-tale sounds of the tap of a walking stick down the hall or in the kitchen. Her hair was uncharacteristically down, Dani noticed. Long and auburn-dark as autumn leaves, curled from all its time spent coiled up in a braid.

"Okay," Jamie whispered, "We're clear. Follow me."

Dani made an abortive noise in the back of her throat, but tamped it down as Jamie tightened her hold on her hand. They scurried through the house like thieves. Jamie led them on a circuitous route around the furniture, as though stalking a beast through the jungle. The tops of their heads peeped out over the cushions of a green couch with a lacy throw draped across its back like delicate snow. With a final dart down the hall, their footsteps muffled by the carpet bearing tea stains and cigarette burns — tea stains from Jamie, cigarette burns from the previous owner — they made it to the spare half bathroom, which had no shower. Jamie locked the door behind them with careful precision, so that the sound was only the lightest of clicks against the brass knob.

"What's happening?" Dani asked, voice hushed in the dark.

Jamie only flicked on the light when she had grabbed a towel from the rack and pressed it up against the bottom of the door to keep as much light from leaking out as possible. Then, she rounded on Dani and held up the scissors. "I need you to cut my hair."

"Is that it?" Dani asked, straightening her spine.

Jamie made a motion for Dani to keep her voice down. "She'll hear you!"

Rolling her eyes, Dani nevertheless gamely kept her voice to a low murmur, "Why doesn't Nan just take you to the hairdresser in town?"

"She did! Look!" Jamie pointed at her own hair, which admittedly did look to be an inch or so shorter than when Dani had seen her last.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Everything!" Jamie hissed. "I wanted it all off, but Nan said no! And the barber refused to take the money I tried to give her when Nan wasn’t looking! Fucking coward.”

"And you want me to do it instead?" Dani asked. "So I can face Nan's wrath? No way!"

"She won't hurt a child!" Jamie said. Then after a moment, she added, "Much. Anyway, she likes you. Way more than she likes me."

"Now, that's not true."

"Inn'it though?" Jamie said, narrowing her eyes and nodding as though they both knew the answer to that rhetorical question.

"It's not!" Dani insisted.

Through the door, they could hear a distant cough. Both of them froze, deer in the headlights, trapped in a looming, luminous stare. There followed a shuffling as if of someone shifting their weight atop bed springs, and the papery turning of a page. When it became clear that Nan wasn't coming to investigate, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

"If you're not going to help me, then I'll just do it myself," said Jamie, already grabbing hold of her own hair and lifting the scissors.

With a groan, Dani dropped her overnight bag to the peeling linoleum floor. She held out her hand. "Give me the scissors."

"Oh, hell yes," Jamie breathed.

Scissors in hand, Dani directed Jamie to sit atop the scarred wooden toilet seat. Jamie eagerly complied, facing away from her so that Dani could have easy access. For a moment Dani hesitated. She reached out and touched Jamie's long hair, combing her fingers through the wild tangle of dark untamable curls. It was, she realised with an odd thread of excitement weaving a warm path through her chest, the first time she had ever touched Jamie's hair like this. When she dragged her fingernails lightly along Jamie's scalp, Jamie's shoulders relaxed and she swayed back into Dani's hand with a soft sound.

Dani withdrew her hand as though scalded. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"S'alright," Jamie said without turning around. "Feels nice. You can touch my hair."

"Yeah?"

Now, Jamie did turn her head, angled just enough so that Dani could see her roll her eyes. "How else are you supposed to cut it? Christ. You are thick sometimes."

Dani flicked the back of her head as revenge. Jamie flinched from the contact, but Dani could hear her laugh quietly, could catch a glimpse of her smile.

"Go on, then," Jamie said, squaring her shoulders once more as though readying herself for a march into battle. "Do it."

Carefully, taking her time so that Jamie could back out if she wanted, Dani pulled around as much of her hair as she could so that it draped down Jamie's back. "You're going to owe me big time for this," Dani muttered as she worked.

"Name the price."

"I want the good pillow tonight," Dani said. Jamie's bedroom was small and cramped and there were no other spare rooms in the house, so every time Dani stayed over it always ended up with the two of them crammed together on Jamie's narrow mattress, where one of them — usually Dani — was inevitably stuck with a lumpy pillow from the couch.

"Done," Jamie agreed without a hint of hesitation.

“All right,” Dani said. She steadied herself with a deep breath and placed the flat of the closed scissor blade against Jamie’s shoulder. “Here?”

“Shorter.”

Dani dragged the scissors up a few inches higher. “Here?”

“Shorter.” 

Swallowing down her nerves, Dani lifted the scissors so that they hovered over the back of Jamie’s neck just below the base of her skull. “Here?” 

Jamie nodded, her head bumping gently against the scissors. “Yeah. Perfect.” 

“All right,” Dani repeated. She opened the scissors and held them in place so that a good portion of Jamie’s long hair was folded across the sharp edges of the blades. Still, she did not cut. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

“Hurry up,” Jamie said and she cast a furtive glance towards the door. “She could come any second.”

And, taking her life into her own hands, Dani squeezed the scissors shut. The first section of Jamie’s hair fell away like a curtain with a single clean snip. As if watching herself perform the deed from out of her own body with a kind of dull horror, Dani continued along — two more great big cuts in a horizontal line — until Jamie’s curls brushed the back of her neck and no further.

“Is that -?” Dani lowered the scissors. “Is that what you wanted?”

One of Jamie’s hands reached up and she felt at her own hair with a silent wonder. 

“Jamie,” Dani breathed nervously. “Please, tell me that it’s all right.”

There was no mirror in this bathroom. Indeed, the only mirror in the whole house was a small rectangle of reflective glass in the bathroom with only a shower over a bath adjoining Nan’s room further down the hall. And there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell they would be braving that tonight. 

Jamie turned around so that she sat facing Dani, and she beamed up at her. “Perfect,” Jamie said. “Absolutely bloody perfect.”

The creak of bed springs, and the tap of a cane, and both of their eyes widened.

“Shit,” Jamie hissed, leaping off the toilet so she could lift the lid and begin shoving hair into the bowl. “Help me hide the evidence!”

“Hide the evidence?” Dani repeated incredulously. “You think she’s not going to notice?”

Even so, Dani scrambled to help, while they continued whispering and hissing at one another like a pair of angry geese. Except Jamie was wearing the biggest smile on her face, one Dani could not hope but mirror, and biting her lip as they tried to stifle their giggles and flush the toilet quickly enough. 

There was a knock on the door, and Nan’s suspicious voice from the other side, “What are you two up to this time?” 

Stuffing the pair of scissors under her sweater even though the door hadn’t opened, Dani straightened, Jamie’s shoulder and elbow jostling her own, and they both chorused in unison, “Nothing!”

[farfromsugafanfic]

Sutures - Chapter Six: Locked In Love

Genre: Soulmates AU, Idiots to Lovers, slight Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Yoongi/Named Reader

Warnings (chapter specific): mentions of sex, therapy, being chased by a cop (no violence occurs)

Synopsis: “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.” –Jean de la Fontaine

There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

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"Hello?" you said, as Skype connected you to your client. He said he was a college student in the emails you'd exchanged. When his face appeared on the screen you smiled and waved politely. He bowed, which looked awkward over the screen, but it made you laugh. "Kim Jinwoo?"

"Yes!" he said, his eyes widening his eyebrows brushing the ends of his hair which lay over his forehead. "Nice to meet you, Teacher."

"Please call me, Sumi," you said. "No need for the formality." 

He nodded.

"So, today I'm not going to go over much English with you, but I want to ask you a few questions just to get to know you and find out how I can best teach you."

You opened up your notebook where you had previously written down the questions you wanted to ask. It would certainly be possible to have your clients fill out a form with all of this information beforehand, but you liked to ease into it and allow them to get comfortable. You couldn't help but smile when you felt the familiar weight of the pen in your hand, something familiar in such an unfamiliar place. 

"Why are you learning English?"

"I'm studying abroad in America in a couple of months," he said. "I want to have a good grasp on the language before then." 

You nodded and wrote down his answer. "Have you ever taken an English class before?"

"The required ones in school," he said.

You continued on with the questions pausing only to write them down. Your first meeting went well and you waved goodbye to the boy. He smiled at you, his lips full and his teeth white. 

"I'm excited to begin our sessions," he said. "I wasn't expecting my tutor to be someone my age."

"I'm still older than you," you said, laughing. "Even if it is only a year." 

The boy joined in your laughter. "I'll send you my schedule so we can set up our next meeting."

"Sounds good."

"I'm looking forward to it," Jinwoo said, his voice slightly deeper than before. "Noona."

---

You and Yoongi sat on a plush love seat. Each of you clinging to either arm to prevent your thighs or arms from brushing. Yoongi barely looked at you; his face settled in a pout. 

"So," the therapist said. "I've already talked with both of you individually and now we will focus on dual therapy. If either of you needs individual counseling, feel free to contact me."

The therapist was a young woman, older than both you and Yoongi, but too young to be either of your mothers. She had a friendly smile and a voice that cut through the air like a knife through butter; but you still found yourself fiddling with your fingers, digging your fingernails into the skin of your fingertips. 

You'd thought about bringing your knitting needles giving yourself somewhat of an escape from the stagnant air surrounding you, but you didn't want to be rude. So, rather, you stewed in the stagnant air.

"Have you had your first urge yet?" The therapist's pen was poised on the notebook and her eyes flicked between both of you. 

"Y-yes," you both managed to say. 

"The first one is usually the hardest to control. Were you able to stop things before they went too far?"

"We didn't have sex if that's what you mean," Yoongi said. Your eyes widen and you want nothing more than to sink into the couch cushions. "Other than when we first met."

The therapist nods and writes something down on her notepad. "This will continue to be difficult for both of you, which is why it's important to have a close relationship, even though the end goal is to break this biological bond between you. What would each of you say is the hardest part so far?"

You both remained quiet. You still fiddled with your fingers wishing now that you'd brought your needles along. You felt a warmth come over your left hand briefly. You caught the sight of Yoongi's hand moving back to rest in his lap. His gaze, however, was still on you and your now still hands, his momentary warmth calming your restless limbs. 

"We don't really know each other," Yoongi said. "We met only a few days ago and it's hard to find comfort in each other if we don't really know each other. And--"

"And we both got cheated on," you said. "It's hard to trust someone again."

Yoongi's gaze was on you again, burning a hole in your profile. You secretly wanted to reach out for his hand again and cling to it, because even if you weren't friends, even if you hated each other, there was still something that made you feel safe when your hand was in his. 

"That's understandable," the therapist said. "Why don't each of you plan a date? Don't look at as a romantic gesture, just something you can do together to get to know each other a little better." 

You nodded, but Yoongi shifted uncomfortably beside you. 

"I thought the point was the break whatever bond there is."

She nodded towards Yoongi. "It is," she said. "But, you have to remember it's imperative to build an emotional connection with each other, because as the biological bond breaks it can cause severe mental health issues, which is why I'm here to help you. If you have a separate emotional bond, even just as friends, it will make severing the biological bond easier."

You and Yoongi nodded and you felt as he relaxed back down into the couch. Despite saying he didn't know you well, it seemed like he didn't want to know you.

Yet, you remember waking up that morning on the couch in his studio. At first, you didn't know where you were, not able to see much in the dark, but then you caught the faint glow of the computer screen and Yoongi's huddled shape in the chair. A blanket curled around his form and he clicked away aimlessly on the desktop, unknowingly bouncing his head to a beat you couldn't hear. 

It was early in the morning. He either had gotten up early to work or had stayed in the studio with you the whole night. You weren't sure which was worse. 

"You must be careful not to develop romantic feelings because the bond can still break and if someone has lingering feelings, it can cause them to continue to experience the withdrawals, which often in those cases is deadly."

You glanced at each other and smiles broke on both of your faces, the previous tension in the room dissipating into the air.

"I don't think that will be a problem."

---

It didn't take you long to figure out what you wanted to do with Yoongi on your "date". You saw him slouch as soon as the two of you stepped onto the bus. He'd worn a hat and a mask attempting to hide his identity as much as he could. You couldn't help but crack a smile at the way the boy sat at the very back of the bus. You sat beside him, the rough fabric of his black jeans brushing against the bare skin of your knees.

Even though it wasn't a real date, there was part of you that wanted to date again. Not Yoongi or anyone in particular, you just wanted to feel cared for again. You wanted to have someone who would wrap their hands around yours when you didn't have your knitting needles and felt anxious, someone to tell you everything will be okay. Another side of you wanted to be single, you'd been with Minki for three years, you'd forgotten what it was like to be alone.

The bus neared your stop and you softly tapped Yoongi's knee to signal it was nearly time to get off. The bus pulled into the stop and the two of you climbed off. 

"We'll walk the rest of the way," you said. "It's not far."

"Would it have killed you to use one of the company cars?" he asked.

"This is my date," you said. "Now come on."

You were in central Seoul in the middle of the city and you felt Yoongi tense beside you. You looped your arm through his and walked in the direction of Namsan Tower. 

"Hey!" he said, his arm squirming in your grip. "If someone gets a picture, this will look bad."

"We'll just look like a normal couple," you said. "If anything they'll pay less attention to you." 

Yoongi sighed, his arm relaxing. You heard a small grunt of disbelief from underneath his mask, but he relented and allowed you to interlock your elbow with his. 

You approached Namsan Tower--a large arrow-shaped building that jutted out from the middle of the city--and felt the wave of deja vu wash over you. The last time you were here you were gripping Minki's hand, a smile on both of your faces. You weren't really happy, you didn't realize it then, of course. You always told yourself Minki was the one, you told yourself that Minki was perfect. But, if the boy next to you now was any indication, you'd been lying to yourself. 

"Don't tell me we're doing one of those stupid lock things," Yoongi said as the two of you entered the elevator and you pressed the button for the second floor. 

"No," you said. "We're removing one."

---

When you got to the Locks of Love, there was more than you remember, locks running all along the rooftop deck. There were so many locks it looked as if the walls of the observation deck were made from the locks. 

Despite the mass of locks, it didn't take you long to find the one you and Minki had picked out. It was near the top of the short wall, pale pink in color with yours and Minki's initials written on it and a heart drawn around them. The rain had caused the Sharpie to fade slightly, but the initials were still clearly visible.

You removed a bobby pin from your hair, a shorter piece of your hair falling into your face. You tucked it behind your ear and wiggled the bobby pin into the lock. 

"I'm guessing you didn't keep the key?"

You smiled sheepishly and laughed at your own stupidity. "We threw it in the Han."

Even though Yoongi still wore a mask, you could see his plump lips forming a smirk underneath it. 

"What?" you asked. "We thought we were in love."

"You weren't?"

You sighed. "I don't know. I at least thought I was." 

Yoongi didn't react, but you felt his eyes watching intently as you wiggled the bobby pin back and forth, trying to get the lock to release. After a few minutes of struggling, Yoongi stepped in front of you, his keys in his hand. 

"Sometimes if you have a similar key you can trick the lock into unlocking," he said. He tried a few of his keys, a small one eventually slipping in the lock. He jostled it, but to no avail. 

"How do you know that?"

He raised his eyebrow. "You really want to know that?"

You noticed a few people looking at the two of you suspiciously. The last thing you needed was attention, it was a risk to come to such a busy place with Yoongi anyway. You nervously turned the bobby pin around in your fingers.

"You think if we just pulled on it long enough it would come off?"

You laughed, only causing more eyes to dart your way. You sighed and tried the bobby pin again, not managing to unlock the lock. Frustrated, you threw it to the ground. 

"I should've made a copy of the key," you said. "I couldn't have been so stupid to think it would really last?"

You knew you had been that stupid. You thought Minki was the one even though the moths in your stomach always told you differently. 

"Hey!" you heard someone shout from the other end of the deck. "You can't remove those!"

You noticed the man--a cop--run towards the two of you and before you could process what was happening, you were running down the stairs and back down to the street.

At some point, your hand had fallen into Yoongi's. His hand gripped yours tightly as you followed only slightly behind him. You eventually fell into the crowd of central Seoul and ducked into an alleyway. 

You both breathed heavily and Yoongi pulled down his mask to breathe more freely. His lips and face red, his lips in a pout. His hand still holding yours and your bodies mere inches apart, feeling each other's warmth. 

"I'm so sorry," you said. "I didn't realize it was illegal and I thought it might be therapeutic to remove it. If we get caught, I'll take the blame, cause you're an idol and I've already caused you too much trouble..."

Yoongi laughed. "Shhhh, we'll get caught if you keep rambling." He let go of your hand and wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. His chin rested comfortably on the crown of your head. His heart beat against your ear, in near rhythm with your own. 

"Don't worry about the lock," he said, whispering, his breath tickling the skin of your ear. "Just because it's there doesn't mean anything. You don't have to love him, or ever have."

His arms loosen around you and you look up at him. You'd never seen him like this before; his voice deep and calm, his eyes calm and kind, his fingers lightly twisting the ends of your hair. His skin shone in the dimly lit alley and his back was against the wall. 

"I think we're safe, now," he said. "I'll get us a taxi." He pulled the mask back up and held his arm out for you, allowing you to loop your arm through his again. 

You walk down the street to find a taxi, most of which were full in the late afternoon. People push past you and vendors yell out their prices to potential costumers. You don't pay much attention to anyone or anything as you walk, but your eyes flit to a newsstand with its glossy magazine covers and airbrushed celebrities. 

You suddenly catch sight of your face on the top right of a magazine cover. It was next to Yoongi's. You stopped, even the tug of Yoongi's arm didn't startle you from your thoughts. 

You picked up the cover and felt tears coming to your eyes as you take in the headline, "Jang Sumi Cheated On Her Long Time Boyfriend With Min Yoongi?!" A small mention of Yoongi's ex was mentioned as well. 

"Sumi," Yoongi's voice cut through your thoughts. "Come on, I'll explain everything in the taxi." 

He tugged on your hand lightly and after a moment you place the magazine back on its rack and follow him, his hand completely enveloping yours. His hand was your only anchor in the choppy sea. 

Eventually, Yoongi manages to wave down a taxi and the two of you climb in. His hand leaves yours as he tells the driver directions and suddenly you are overboard. 

Everything that had threatened to spill over on the street now spilled over on your cheeks. You turned away from Yoongi, quickly wiping away the hot tears, wondering why it seemed you always cried in front of him when he was the last person you wanted to see you cry. 

"I didn't want to tell you," he said. "I was hoping it would die down before you found out." He paused, taking a deep breath. You turned to face him, it was barely evident you had cried at all, but you felt some tears still threatening to spill over. "After everything with the shoes, Minki's been saying some things. He's saying you were still in a relationship with him when you slept with me. Don't worry, we haven't confirmed anything, most people think he's just a jealous ex, and intend to keep it that way, okay?"

"Everyone knows we slept together?" you asked. "They think I cheated?"

Yoongi reached out and moved the piece of hair your bobby pin freed and tucked it behind your ear. "I'm going to take care of it," he said. "Don't worry, everything will be over when we come back from Japan."

You nodded, wishing more than ever you'd saved the key, so you could unlock the lock and destroy it. Never having to think about Minki again. 

[whump-tr0pes]

HB4-29/Whumptober day 7

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3.

AO3

Masterlist

~

Sam burrito with forehead kisses requested by @endless-whump and @butwhatifyouwrite

Content warning: permanent injury, nerve damage, past torture, mild dissoci@tion, flashbacks, pain medication mention, self-blame

~

Sam groaned and rolled onto their back. Finally – finally, after almost two weeks, how did Isaac cope with this? – they could lie on their back without pain shooting through them. The whip marks were healing. The wound in their arm was healing.

The nerve they were almost certain was severed, was not.

An afternoon breeze rustled the curtains in their room, making the room waver light-dark-light-dark as they billowed in and out. Their gaze moved slowly over the ceiling, the thirteen dark wood beams that stood out against the white. Thirteen, from one end of the room to the other. They’d counted them so many times in the time they’d spent holed up there.

It was… exhausting, sometimes, to be around the others. Not that the others were doing anything wrong; it was just so hard to look at each of them and seen pain tighten in their eyes every time they looked at Sam. Watching the guilt drag at them all, especially Isaac, with his own wounds healing to scars, was like trying to tear a bullet out of their chest with their bare hands. Never fully sure if they would tear something vital as they did. Wondering if maybe the guilt was something that would stay buried in this family forever. Something they should just get used to, learn to breathe past.

They couldn’t take the guilt. Couldn’t take the way everyone’s hands would jerk towards them when they went to stand, as if they needed something to help them balance every time. They couldn’t take how the others would trail off in the middle of a sentence, their gaze fixed on Sam, as if stunned into silence by the magnitude of Sam’s pain. It was more than frustrating, it was maddening.

Edrissa treated them the same as she always did.

Sam’s stomach growled. I wonder when dinner is?

Their stomach growled again, and louder, as if protesting the notion of waiting until dinner to eat. Sam groaned and pushed themself upright.

They were getting better at it, now, moving with only one hand. Their right arm was still slinged, and the surgical cut Finn had made was nearly closed. The infection was gone. Finn was encouraging them to do small, simple exercises, more just letting their arm hang and slowly using their left hand to move the arm in its socket. Finn said it would make healing progress better.

I don’t think it’s going to get much better than this.

Slowly, they stood, savoring the feeling of the rug beneath their feet. They’d slept on concrete for three weeks, the only respite being when Colleen had forced them to kneel on the soft plush rugs wherever she chose to chain them down. Chain them down and strangle them or beat them or drown them or whip them or—

They shuddered and shook their head. No. No. Can’t fall in. They adjusted their arm in its sling – made of very nice, light fabric, and blue, Edrissa made it for them herself – and walked to the door. They pulled it open and were greeted by the soft brrp? of the black cat sitting right outside.

Sam smiled and bent to pet him. “Hey, Nata,” they said softly. Nata pushed with fierce adoration into Sam’s hand. “Hey, sweet boy.” They straightened, and steadied themself against the wall as the hallway went black for a moment. They breathed slowly through their mouth as their vision returned.

They wandered down the hall towards the kitchen, shivering slightly in their thin shirt and shorts. The house stayed so cool during the day, even though summer was around the corner. They didn’t mind, though. It made it easier to sleep. The heat made Sam’s wounds itchy. They rounded the corner into the living room and stopped.

Isaac and Gavin sat on the couch, their heads together as they looked at the puzzle on the coffee table. A new one – Finn and Ellis had been finishing a puzzle about every three or four days since they’d arrived north, and Gray had an entire closet filled with more. This one was of a seascape, the sun glinting off the water in a thousand different colors if you looked closely at the brushstrokes of the painting that had been printed onto the pieces. It was the hardest one yet, mostly blues and greens, with only a single sailboat to break the design of the ocean waves.

“Ellis will kill you if you mess with that puzzle,” Sam said with a gentle smile.

Isaac’s head snapped up, and his look of shock and near-terror at being caught near the puzzle made Sam burst into a snort of laughter. The laughter drew out into a groan as their cracked ribs throbbed in pain.

Isaac shot to his feet and took a step towards Sam before they could even draw a breath.

“I’m okay,” they gasped, holding their hand out in front of them. Isaac hesitated and fell back a step. “Wh-what are you guys up to? Other than taking your lives into your hands breathing on Ellis’s puzzle?” Sam’s lips quirked into an unsteady smile.

Isaac rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… no, pretty much just that. Just finished up sparring practice with Vera and Edrissa, and I just… kinda zoned out looking at the puzzle. It’s nice. I don’t know if it looks like the actual ocean, but…” He shrugged. “What’re you up to?”

“Um… I was gonna get some food,” Sam said, glancing behind Isaac and meeting Gavin’s gaze for a moment. For once… for the first time since they reached the north again… Gavin didn’t look down and away. Warmth and relief spread faintly through Sam’s chest, like bracing for pain and receiving none.

“I was getting kinda hungry, too,” Isaac said, and glanced at Gavin behind him. “Gav, you want—” Isaac’s mouth snapped shut and he flushed a brilliant shade of red. Gavin’s cheeks flushed to match, and Sam could feel heat on their face, too.

Gav? How did we get here? They bit their lip as for a moment, a memory swept through them, Gavin grinning as he forced their head back where they sat in a chair, their hands tied behind them, holding a knife to their throat as they sobbed and pleaded…

Sam shook their head to clear it. It was a slippery day today, and Sam kept sliding back into their memories.

But I don’t hurt as much today. Please let me stay here…

Gavin got to his feet, his cheeks still pink, his hands buried deep in his pockets. “I could, um… V-Vera showed me how to make eggs benedict last weekend. I could… um…”

Sam’s stomach grumbled loudly in the quiet room. The three of them burst out laughing. Sam winced and bit down hard on their lip.

“Eggs benedict for lunch,” Sam said tightly, counting their heartbeats and waiting for the pain to fade. It was all they could do anymore, now that Finn was slowly weaning them off the morphine and Vicodin. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six… Slowly, the pain in their ribs eased. On the next breath, it would hurt again, but in this precise moment…

Appreciating precise moments free of pain was the only thing that had kept Sam going for almost two weeks.

They looked up at Gavin and Isaac. They were both looking at Sam with almost identical expressions: worry, grief… guilt. Both of them, blaming themselves for the pain Sam felt every day. Both of them, the reason Sam was alive.

Sam couldn’t push that little voice down forever, though: the voice that said that if Gavin had never hurt them in the first place… and if Isaac had killed Gavin in his warehouse, when he was unconscious and bloody…

They gritted their teeth. They hated those thoughts that had crept through their mind more and more, ever since they’d been shot. The pain was poisoning them, and twisted, bitter thoughts had crawled out of that festering place inside them that never felt any relief. Maybe if they had just a day without pain, an hour, a minute, they could push those thoughts away, sweep them out of their mind completely. But they hurt, they hurt, and the only thing that made them feel better were the pills that were slowly, slowly being taken away.

The pills, and Nata. And seeing everyone safe. Seeing Tori when she was herself, tucked under Vera’s arm with a fragile smile. And feeling the wind on their face after three weeks of chilly, stagnant air in their cell. And tasting real food again, Gray’s cookies and Vera’s spicy beef stew and Edrissa’s fresh-baked bread. And looking out over the lake, bigger even than the lake at their first foster home, where they’d chased frogs and swam after spring melted the thin crust of ice over the surface…

All those things made them feel better, too.

Sam blinked, and realized none of them had said a word. They smiled, and the expression felt… tight, but like something they’d been good at, a very long time ago, and were just now trying again. The smile felt comfortable.

“Eggs b-benedict for lunch,” they said again, their tone softer. “Sounds good.”

Gavin let out a gusty breath. “Good,” he huffed. “Because it’s one of the only things I know to make on my own.” He turned and headed for the kitchen. Isaac took a step towards the kitchen as well, then paused, as if realizing he’d moved.

“Gavin,” Isaac said. “Do you want… do you need help, or…?”

“No!” Gavin said, and nudged him back towards the living room. “I can do it. I can… I can do it, Isaac. Stay with Sam.” He blushed and turned away again, and disappeared into the kitchen. He was visible again a moment later over the counter that made a sort of window between the kitchen and the living room, lined with barstools looking in.

Isaac turned back to Sam, a hint of pink still on his cheeks. He flushed darker when he saw them staring at him. “What?” he said weakly, and sat down on the couch near the puzzle.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “‘Gav’?” they said with a grin as they made their way to the couch and slowly eased themself down.

Isaac rolled his eyes, smiling back. He sat down on the couch beside them. “It just slipped out, okay? I didn’t… I haven’t been—”

“What, you haven’t been calling him Gav-Gav when you’re alone?” Sam said with a laugh.

“Oh my god, Sam,” Isaac whispered, his face turning an almost painful-looking red. He buried his face in his hands. “No.”

“Thank god,” Sam said, and nudged Isaac with their left shoulder – their good shoulder. “Because I don’t think I could have tolerated that.”

Isaac snorted and looked up towards the kitchen. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Neither could I.”

Gavin was visible over the half-wall of the counter. He was bustling about the kitchen, wearing a look of intense concentration as he gathered the ingredients, wearing… an apron. Edrissa’s baking apron. Sam tried to suppress another snort of laughter.

Isaac nudged them back, gently. “What?” he said softly, his cheeks burning.

Sam grinned and shook their head. “Nothing,” they said, returning their gaze to Isaac. “He’s just…” Sam shrugged, gently, careful with their arm. “He’s… different.”

“He is,” Isaac said, and sat back against the cushions. Sam shivered slightly. Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. “You cold?”

“A little,” Sam admitted. Something inside them bristled, just the slightest bit, at Isaac’s concern.

He was like this with me before I got hurt like this. He’s always been like this, with everyone. He can’t turn it off.

“Me, too,” Isaac said, and reached for the thinner blanket draped over the back of the couch. “It’s just been so hard to get… warm since…” He trailed off as he shook the blanket open and laid it over both their laps.

Sam pulled the blanket up around their shoulders and leaned against Isaac. Isaac automatically opened his arm to them and they cuddled against his side.

Just like before.

“S-so,” Isaac said softly, and Sam’s heart ached at the familiar sound of his guilt. “How’s the arm?”

“Um.” They squeezed their right hand into a fist – or tried to. Their thumb and first two fingers twitched, and their thumb shook as they forced it to bend. They bit their lip and grimaced, straining with all their might to just make a fist. Something they could do without even thinking with their left hand. But their right… Maybe there had been a little bit of improvement over the past few days. Or maybe there hadn’t. They couldn’t tell, not with the pain that drilled into their arm every minute…

But the pain was fading. Every day. Some days were worse than others, but every day there was a moment that hurt less than all the other moments. And every day, that moment was better than the day before.

They looked up and saw Isaac looking warily at them. They cleared their throat. “Oh. Um. Honestly, it’s… it’s better.”

Isaac’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? That’s… that’s great. What’s been different? Has the feeling come back yet? Have you—”

“N-no,” Sam said, and stared at the pattern of the blanket over them. “Not like that. It just… doesn’t hurt so much all the time.”

Isaac blinked and sat back. “That’s still great, Sam.”

Sam chewed their lip. Tears formed in their eyes. They didn’t know why, they were just there. They sniffed and wiped their eyes with the blanket.

“Hey,” Isaac said gently, and he… god, he really was starting to sound like himself more and more. More of the kind person Sam knew before… all this. Not that Isaac wasn’t kind now, but there was… a desperation to him. There was a sense of terror under his every movement, like he was one wrong touch or loud sound away from losing himself and hurting… anyone that got too close. That had been going away, too, though.

Sam glanced up at Isaac, just to catch him gesturing with his chin at Gavin. Sam hadn’t even realized the kitchen had gone silent until they looked over at Gavin, who was standing stock-still in the opening of the half-wall, his apron and the English muffin in his hand seemingly forgotten, looking at Sam with grief written plainly over his face. He jumped and hurried over to the stove, where Sam could hear the eggs poaching in water.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” Sam said, swiping at their eyes.

Isaac snorted. “Whether I give you the list chronologically or from best to worst, it would take too long.” He wrapped his arm around their shoulders again, but didn’t squeeze. Sam was grateful. Although, out of everyone Isaac probably knew best how to avoid whip marks… except possibly Vera.

“No, it’s just… nothing’s going on now…” Embarrassed, Sam pressed their face into the blanket, the more they tried to hold back, the more their eyes seemed to leak tears.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Isaac said evenly, and Sam relaxed slightly with his even tone.

“It’s stupid,” Sam mumbled, and blushed with their voice broke.

“Sam. Hey.” They lifted their head and forced themself to meet Isaac’s eyes. He smiled and gently ruffled their hair. “You’re fine.”

Sam shrugged as they wiped their nose. They could smell the butter, could hear the ham sizzling in the pan as Gavin worked.

Isaac laughed weakly. “It’s… good to see you, Sam,” he said, sadness lacing the edges of his voice.

Sam grimaced. “I’ve been around.”

Isaac dipped his head. “You have. But… in your room a lot of the time. Which…” He held out his free hand in a supplicating gesture. “…if that’s where you need to be, you be there. Okay? It’s just…” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to their forehead. “It’s just good to see you out.”

Sam picked at the seam of their sling. “Yeah. I… I’ve been… hurting, and—”

“I know. And you aren’t obligated to see us. Ever.” Isaac leveled his gaze at them.

“I… I know. It’s just…” Sam bit their lip and pulled their knees in to their chest under the blanket, tucking their arm against their chest. “It’s just…” They shot a glance at Gavin, whisking something now, and back at Isaac. “So much of… I mean, you guys…” Sam huffed out a breath. “You all just look so… guilty. When you see me.”

Guilt crossed Isaac’s face. Sam braced for their own guilt, and disappointment, and… then Isaac’s face changed. He smiled ruefully. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sam gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Which, you know… I… It’s hard. And… and I feel guilty, too.”

Isaac’s eyebrows pulled together. “For… what, Sam?”

Sam tilted their head back against the couch cushions, tears brimming in their eyes again. “Same old, I guess,” they murmured. “I just… so many of you have been, um, hurt. Because of me. And I… I know that… last bit, with C-Colleen, when she…” They winced as the healing whip marks on their back suddenly burned. “…when she, um, made you say those things. And when I, um, got shot. I…” Sam gulped, and they were helpless against the tears that rolled back into their hair. “If it weren’t for me, you… would never have gotten hurt in the first place. With, um, Gavin. And I… I wanted to come on that mission. I know you didn’t want me to, and I went. And I… when we got taken, all I could, um, think was…” Their eyes slid closed, sending a stream of tears down their cheeks. “Um… all I could think was… ‘please let it just be me this time.’”

Isaac blew out a forceful breath. Sam blinked their eyes open and looked at him. “Oh,” he croaked, his own eyes faraway. “That’s um… exactly what, what I thought, um… too.”

“Well, um…” Sam swallowed the ache in their throat. “Yeah. That’s… that’s why I’ve been, um, in my room a lot. Because, uh… I hate seeing your guilt. And it makes me a hypocrite because I, ah, hate feeling, um, guilty.” They shrugged. “When I see your scars.”

Isaac turned his free arm over, and his gaze moved over the scars there: flat, silver marks from the heated blade of Gavin’s knife, and dozens of thin, pink slashes from his shoulder to his wrist, where Gavin had cut him at Colleen’s house. Those were healed, now, along with the fading ring of pink scars around his wrists where he’d been handcuffed, and fought against the restraints, every single day. Fighting to get to Sam.

“There are a lot more, now,” Isaac said softly, his voice trembling.

“We all have a lot more, now,” Sam said.

Isaac looked at them. “Sam, I… I know, I’m, I’m sorry…”

Sam glared lightly at Isaac. “You’re doing it again.”

Isaac blinked. “Fuck,” he breathed. “I don’t… I swear to god I don’t even… notice…”

“I know, Isaac,” Sam said sadly. They reached out and gently took Isaac’s wrist in their hand, moving their thumb over the scars on his wrists. “It’s just… what you do.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Isaac whispered, his eyes unfocused, like he wasn’t aware he was saying it out loud.

Sam’s lips pulled into a smile. More tears rolled down their cheeks, but they didn’t try to force them down, now. They leaned forward and pulled Isaac into a one-armed embrace. He held them gently, his breath huffing warmly against their hair.

“Um…”

They both glanced up to see Gavin standing over them, his eyes shifted down, one plate in each hand. The smell of Hollandaise and English muffins and ham and eggs washed over them. Their stomach grumbled again, and louder than before. Sam grinned and sat forward.

“We should probably eat at the table so we don’t, um, disturb the puzzle,” Gavin said, eyeing it. “I guess I…” He wandered over to the table and set the plates down. “I guess I could have, um, set that there, and…” He hurried back into the kitchen to grab one more plate and a handful of silverware.

Sam pushed off the blanket and got to their feet. “Smells good,” they said quietly.

Gavin’s head shot up as he set the third plate on the table. “Thank you,” he breathed, wide-eyed.

Sam sat in their seat, watching the curls of steam rise from the plate. Their mouth watered. Almost without thinking, it seemed, Isaac reached for their plate to cut up the food.

“Isaac,” Sam protested weakly. “Yours will get cold. I can, um, I can wait.”

Isaac froze, Sam’s knife and fork already cutting into the eggs benedict. Bright yellow yolk oozed across the plate.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “I didn’t think about it. I’m sorry. I can…” He glanced up at Sam. His lips slowly pulled into a smile. “How ‘bout I alternate? Cut a bite for me, cut a bite for you?”

“That sounds okay,” Sam said quietly.

Isaac cut a bite, carefully spearing the English muffin, ham, and egg, and sauce. He pushed the plate and fork towards Sam and cut a bite for himself.

Gavin had a bite almost all the way to his mouth when he shot to his feet. “You guys eat this with hot sauce,” he gasped, and sprinted to the kitchen. He was back in seconds with the bottle of hot sauce Gray had bought from a woman who grew the best peppers in Crayton – she said so.

Sam took up the fork in their left hand. Even that had gotten easier in the past two weeks. They lifted the fork to their mouth and took a bite, their eyes sliding shut at the hot food. It was delicious.

Continued here

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