#her sweet sunshine personality.. and the lingering exhaustion she leaves them with

[buckpaws]

conduit really glossed over how octane blends her family's cooking into shakes and drinks them. i dont think theyre friends actually.

[kyoomiii]

♡ Confession mishaps [hcs]

-  ➣. . . ❝ hey i was wondering if you could do a kenma kuroo and bokuto (separately and if u do that many😂) where they try to ask their crush out but since the crush had been bullied in middle school, she thinks it’s a prank and kinda gets upset? thank u sm! ❞

― 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @ anonie ​ ―

- ✎ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 ❝ kenma, kuroo, and bokuto ❞

- [ 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐(𝚜): there aren’t any explicit mentions of the bullying, however there are references to insecurities ]

- ⚘ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎 ❝ fluff, angst if you squint ❞

❝ sorry for the long wait anonnie, but hopefully this is to your liking <3 ❞

-yoomi ♡

The experience as a whole is new to Kenma. He had never taken interest in people before, always wary but never seeking. 

He didn’t understand the clench of his heart, or the flush of his cheeks. He doesn’t know why you make his heart thunder in his chest, beating so quickly he fears it might pop out. 

He doesn’t get it, so he ignores it, let it be the way it is because thinking about it too much gives him a headache, it fills him with anxiety. 

On the other hand, Kuroo, he notices, sees the lingering glances from his friend and the gentle pink that dusts the apples of Kenma’s cheeks. He’s probably more excited about the whole ordeal than Kenma himself is, and he definitely can’t help that he feels he has to meddle a little, because at this point he fears Kenma will let the opportunity slip. Especially now as he inwardly cringes at Kenma's lack of motivation, despite the obvious (to him at least) longing in Kenma’s eyes.

“Kenma-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I don’t have to… I already know it’s going to be a bad idea.”

“Ouch, I was just going to say that you should tell y/n about your little crush, ya know before someone beats you to it.”

“I do not have a crush.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“Do too~”

“Whatever…”

“So you do!”

“... No.”

As the day draws to a close, Kuroo somehow manages to recruit Lev into his little devious scheme. The poor tall unsuspecting kitten is oblivious to the dangerous glint in Kuroo’s eyes. Even now, as the two peer around the corner of the entryway, eyes locked onto the pudding haired boy they call their fiend.

Their attention quickly snaps to you as you enter the scene, walking at a mild pace as you go to meet the unsuspecting Kenma, who stiffens at your sudden appearance, shoulders visibly tensing.

You were never close to Kenma, you were in the same grade and shared some classes, but the interactions remained limited, only ever resulting in conversations regarding schoolwork, or the occasional greeting. 

Even so, you had found yourself engrossed by the  boy who spoke so little some didn’t think he had a voice. He was in a way enchanting, to you at least. And perhaps you had grown a little too fond of him, admiring from afar, but keeping distance out of fear.

So it truly did surprise you when you received that little piece of paper, words written just a tad bit messy, and the words nothing short of sweet and endearing. The piece signed with a simple “from Kenma”

“Kozume-san I received your letter, it was very sweet.”

“...Letter?”

“Your love letter…?”

“Why would I send you a love letter?”

Kenma knows, as soon as your brows pinch, frown etched into your features he had messed up. He didn’t mean to sound harsh but your sudden appearance, and the mention of a love letter from him nonetheless startled him beyond belief. He liked you of course, but he needed time to ease into it, and this sudden crash of feelings and uncertainty filled his entire being with anxiety.

“I see… I’m sorry to have bothered you Kozume-san. Forgive me, I should have known better.” 

He doesn’t miss the little scoff that falls from your lips, or the way that tears threaten to spill from those eyes that he’s grown to love so much. 

“Have a nice day.”

“-Wait l/n-san.”

Kenma is surprised he can even hear his own voice, especially as his heart beats faster than it ever has before. He must’ve been a little loud, he concludes judging by your surprised expression.

“I...Eh…”

“Kozume-san?”

“I do like you… I just didn’t send that letter.”

An eruption of feelings explode within you like fireworks lighting up the night sky. You feel your breathing suddenly stop as your lungs suddenly find themselves unable to function properly as your brain malfunctions. He likes you back.

“l/n-san?-”

“I like you too!”

The sudden outburst leaves behind an awkward silence, both faces flushed hands sweating as you stare at one another unsure and panicked.

“Just y/n.”

“What?”

“Please just call me y/n.”

“Then please call me Kenma.”

And as you gently grasp onto his hand, the two of you become too distracted to notice the grinning cats just around the corner.

“KISS ALREADY!”

“Oh my god…”

Kuroo Tetsurou is nothing short of honest, he knows this, and deep down it’s something he prides himself in. However his current predicament is churning the little devious gears in his head.

Something as simple as an ex-girlfriend who can’t seem to take a hint has been driving him up the wall, and he is more than tired- he is downright exhausted.

For weeks on end it seems as if she’s around every corner, lurking, waiting, watching. Just to pounce on him, begging to get back together. And being the honest man he is, he tells her the same thing over and over.

“I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”

And today she seemed to be especially present, tailing after him when she could and bothering him to the point where he felt like he might explode.

Don’t get him wrong, he still cared for her to an extent, she was a friend before she was someone he had romantic feelings for and he didn’t want to burn that bridge between them. But still, things were getting out of hand and maybe a little push would stir her away.

Peeking around the corner he makes a break for it, however, despite his best attempts at hiding it seems that his height and unmistakable rooster bed head places him at a disadvantage.

“Tetsu-kun!”

Quick, he thinks as his eyes dart around the hall, landing on face after face until he recognizes someone he knows.

Dodging bodies and receiving dirty glares from students who were nearly trampled, he swiftly makes his way over to you. 

You had known Kuroo Tetsurou since your first year of highschool, the two of you were friends, and you often hung out with him and the other third years on the Nekoma volleyball team, but your platonic feelings for him soon grew into something much more.

He was sweet after all, a genuine person with good intentions even if his face and his naughty grin said otherwise. 

You were never sure if your feelings would be returned so you kept quiet, admiring from a distance as he held the hand of another girl, because you didn’t feel like he would spare you a glance in terms of romance.

But as he comes barreling towards you, his frame pinning you to the wall, face much too close to be played off as anything but romantic, you hope that maybe, just maybe there might be something there that isn’t platonic, that isn’t him looking at you as if you were just a friend.

“Tetsurou-”

“Shh…”

Flustered and embarrassed you stay quiet hiding your face away from the prying eyes of students who are curious at the scene playing out before them. 

Much to your dismay and relief, the moment lasts for only a mere fraction of a minute, and Kuroo releases you with a sigh.

“Thanks for playing along y/n.”

Your hopes are immediately crushed, but at the same time you chide yourself because you should know better. Someone like Kuroo Tetsurou would never admire you the way you admired him.

“It’s… No problem.”

And you don’t mean for your voice to waver, or for your hands to tremble as you become flustered beyond belief for thinking otherwise.

“If you don’t mind I need to go.”

You speak hurriedly because you fear that he’ll see the way your eyes water, or hear the way your voice wavers.

“Wait y/n!”

Despite the call of your name you don’t stop, you can’t stop, you can’t let him see you like this because he’ll see right through you with those perceptive eyes.

It’s only the gentle grip of a hand around your wrist that brings you to a halt, hazel eyes peering down at you as you struggle to gently tug away from his hold on you.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“It’s okay Tetsurou, really.”

“No, I clearly upset you and what I did wasn’t cool…”

“That’s not why I’m upset.”

You huff, the tears you tried so hard to hold in spilling down your cheeks and landing on the linoleum flooring in small puddles. You inhale shakily eyes closing for a moment to recoup, you decide that it might as well be now than never.

“I just- really like you. And I don’t know, I felt I had a chance a second ago. It was silly of me to think that. It’s okay if you don’t return my feelings- or heck if you don’t want to be friends anymore I get it.”

Kuroo is shocked, eyes wide and mouth almost agap. He’s almost speechless, after months of pinning he thought it was obvious.

“You’re so dense you know that?”

“.....What?”

“I like you too. I thought I was making that obvious.”

His obnoxious laughter that you’ve grown to love fills the now empty halls.

“How about I take you on a proper date, this weekend?”

“I’d like that.”

If there was one way you’d describe Bokuto Koutarou it would be sunshine. Sure he had a knack for falling into his so-called “emo mode” but even then he seemed to pick himself up just as quick as he’d let himself fall. 

It was something you admire most about him, his endless bounds of energy that seemed to radiate from his dazzling being. Bokuto Koutarou is nothing short of a ray of sunshine.

On the other hand another word you’d use to describe him would be dense.

Could he really not tell your interest in him? Or was it that he chose to ignore it? Did he purposefully disregard your lingering glances, your shy touches, or you softening eyes? He had no obligation to return your feelings, you understood that. But that factor didn’t ease the continuous chipping curiosity had at your mind.

Even now, as Bokuto comes bounding up to you, frame as broad as always and grin stretched wider than the sea.

“y/n~”

He calls before completely engulfing you with his whole body weight sending both of you tumbling to the ground.

“Koutarou you can’t just do that.”

Your whines of disapproval trail through one ear and out the other as his bubbling laughter sounds throughout the gym.

“I’m sorry y/n I’m just so happy to see you.”

You can feel your cheeks heat up, your palms becoming sweaty at his sudden declaration. You knew Bokuto was always open with his affections, always one to be friendly to anyone and everyone, but the thought of him being happy to see you seemed to set your heart aflutter.

Nevertheless you try to brush those feelings aside, gently ruffling the hair atop his head, something that had quickly become a norm after he expressed his fondness of the action.

“I’m happy to see you too Kou.”

“Let me just grab my stuff and we can get going.”

He chimes happily as he releases you from his hold, bounding off to the locker room to retrieve his belongings. His broad shoulders face you, and it’s then that he doesn’t see the look of yearning in your eyes.

“You should tell him how you feel.”

A voice suddenly states, startling you from your trance, Their words registering in your head quickly, sending a flare to your face.

“I don’t know what you mean Akaashi.”

You stutter out, though Akaashi doesn’t seem to be the least bit convinced. His emerald eyes hold clear skepticism as he quirks a brow at you.

“l/n-san, you’d have to be blind not to see your clear infatuation with him. But if you’re not up to it I won’t intervene. It’s not my place.”

His damage is swift and powerful, leaving you in a state of bewilderment despite him leaving just as quickly as he arrived. Akaashi Keiji could be scary…

“ y/n, is something the matter?”

“Ah-Kou. No, just some stuff of my mind I guess…”

“Kay… But I hope you know I’m always going to be here, so you can tell me anything you want.”

And for what seemed like the millionth time that day, your heart began beating rapidly, pounding in your chest to the point where through the duration of the entire walk home you couldn’t hear anything but the constant thumping in your ears despite Bokuto’s ramblings. Akaashi’s words playing in your mind like a broken record “You should tell him how you feel”

“Koutarou I like you.”

For the first time silence falls between both of you and you fear you may have ruined one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

“As in like like?”

“I mean… What other like is there…?”

His laughter feels the air, and suddenly you feel the world around you crashing down.

“I like you too. I thought I was making it obvious.”

Your head whips around to meet his gaze, golden eyes emitting pure happiness.

“What?”

“I like you too y/n… I guess we’re both a little dense huh?”

Dense indeed.

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter seven: mornings are for coffee and sexual tension

part eight of sudden desire

prologue / one / two / three / four / five / six / masterlist

synopsis: the morning after.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: the briefest and vaguest implications of sex (about as pg as it gets honestly), mutual pining (they’re oblivious idiots what do you expect from them at this point?), not beta’d

author’s note: i’ve not been in a good headspace lately and deleted my twitter app the other day to try and clear my head (✨a great move for someone who’s being crushed under crippling loneliness✨) so i feel like this really isn’t my best work, by a long shot, but writing this was the only thing that seemed to cheer me up, so we’re rolling with it! enough about me here’s the good stuff!

Some mornings beat her down. She’ll wake with a terrible wait on her chest and her head in a haze, and the day will stretch on in slow motion. Sadness and pain and upset stretching the hours for miles and miles. Those days, she hates to leave her bed. Her body feels too heavy to move from the mattress. But those days come far less frequent than they used to; every couple of months, when the rain lashes heavy against the window panes and the fog rolls over the river. Melancholia lingers like the smell after it rains and hoodies keep her together and the gazes away.

Others are rosy, honeysuckle sweet and tipped in golden sunshine. She’ll wake to the familiar smell of roses and fresh cotton, of cinnamon and citrus and the candles she’d burned the night before. She’s weightless as she rises, breezy dresses and peach lipgloss, and it’s like a never-ending summer, even when the weather turns frigid and she’s freezing in dresses made for the heat. Those mornings are mornings made for Marcus and syrupy sweet coffee in tiny coffee shops.

But some mornings exist alone; those mornings when anticipating hangs in the air, when change still has yet to set in. Mornings she doesn’t know how to feel when she wakes surrounded by her duvet. Mornings that can become the best or the worst of her life.

Mornings with Marcus over coffee in the sunshine are usually the best.

They’re filled with familiar laughter.

Coraline wakes to the sun streaming into her bedroom, bright, golden and insistent. The curtains are cracked open a little - disturbed and out-of-line, no longer drawn together like they had been when she’d fallen asleep - and the gap lets the warm morning sunlight in. A chill pulls through her; even as she tugs her duvet up underneath her chin for a moment. It’s thicker than it normally is, the weather proving to be much harsher than she’d ever anticipated it could be as Spring edges closer, and it’s even worse when she feels the bed beside her empty and cold. Coraline stretches an arm out over the sparse half of the bed, the sheets there cool, neat and frustratingly unoccupied.

Her heart sinks a little at the realisation. 

Even if she isn’t entirely sure what she would have done if she’d woken up with Marcus by her side.

Marcus is a morning person, only allowing himself to sleep in on weekends . But Coraline is usually always the first one of them awake; the one who wakes him up with a text or coffee at his front door. He normally claims her to be ridiculously - and, she’s sure, annoyingly - springly in the early mornings, no matter what time she wakes, no matter how many hours of sleep she’s managed. It takes a while, and far too many cups of coffee, and she usually crashes in the late evening when things catch up on her with ferocity. She knows, this morning, Marcus has done the gentlemanly thing and left her to sleep in those precious few hours, before she has to wake up and head to the heavy load of interviews she has peppered throughout the day. But she really wishes he’d woken her, even just to say goodbye, before he’d left for work. 

Coraline knows he’d never intended on staying the night. It wasn’t that kind of arrangement, they both knew that, but it had just happened. And, honestly, neither of them had been entirely made about it, either. He'd made a joke about how her bed was so much comfier than his and she’d giggled and yawned and tucked herself into the warmth of his side, without a second thought. Neither of them had complained about the closeness. Her eyes had grown heavy with sleep and her words quiet, and Marcus had traced patterns into her lower back until she’d fallen asleep a few moments later. 

She digs a knuckled into her eyes to rub away the sleep that weighs down her eyelids and groans as she stretches out her aching limbs. Everything aches - even places she didn’t know could ache - especially her back as she lifts her head to glance over at the alarm clock. She’s utterly exhausted, the late night catching up with her, but she’s too worried she’s overslept to even think about going back to sleep. 8:04 blinks back at her in glaring white fluorescent.

Blinking up at the ceiling, laying flat on her aching back, blinking away the weariness that clouds her eyes, Coraline finally finds it within herself to climb out of bed. Some mornings, she can rarely leave the comfort of her blankets. The weight of something always seems to press down on her; sometimes, she doesn’t even know what that weight is. This morning is one of them. She groans when she stands and her feet touch the wooden floor. She stretches her limbs out, every joint in her body seeming to crack as she moves, and yawns so wide that she’s glad no one is around to see it. She’s sure she looks ridiculous on a morning - with wild hair and watery eyes and bright flushed cheeks - but, now, with no one around to see, she doesn’t care.

Coraline slips her glasses onto the bridge of her nose and shuffles her way out of the bedroom. Her father’s old Eagles shirt - the one she’d stolen from his drawers when she’d left for LA; the one that reminded her of her childhood and smelt so reminiscent of him - brushes the middle of her thighs as she moves. It was the first thing she’d grabbed the night before, still balled up at the foot of her bed. 

She’s greeted by a sight she hadn’t expected to see when she steps into the kitchen.

The low, slow bubble of the coffee machine, followed by the rich smell of coffee beans. Marcus Pike stands, leant against the counter without a care in the world, with two mugs perched in front of him; one is Cora’s favourite — her Death Cab For Cutie mug — and the other is the old one with the chip in the rim Marcus had accidentally made when he visited her apartment the first time. She’d meant to throw it out, but it reminded her of him, and she’d always reach for her mug whenever he made coffee at hers. 

She wishes she’d made an effort to make herself look presentable for him; he’s never seen her look so rough, and she hopes to god that her early morning appearance doesn’t scare him away. But it’s like she’s stepped into an entirely new world where it’s only the two of them left; no one else matters because they don’t exist. Coraline and Marcus are the only two people left in this world.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he calls cheerily at the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut behind her. 

He doesn’t turn, just continues pushing the buttons on the coffee machine as he places her mug beneath, but she can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks. She’s struck by how relaxed he looks. The whole sight seems familiar, somehow; he’s relaxed against the counter, his suit jacket and tie slung over the back of one of her chairs, and he’s humming some indiscernible tune quietly as she steps through the space.

“Good morning.” Coraline returns his greeting and leans her elbows against the island behind him. She watches him with a fond smile on her face. She can’t help it. Everything just seems gentle and wonderful, and she wouldn’t be against this becoming a weekly sight. But it wouldn’t - it couldn’t - and maybe that was for the best.

She’s staring.

She can’t help it. Her heart aches along with the rest of her body; she can feel it skipping in that awkward rhythm, fluttering like butterflies trapped between her ribs, along to the tune of the song he’s singing. A little out of tune but endearing, nonetheless. It’s a little embarrassing that she’s feeling this way over a friendship, of all things, and she knows better than to kindle that little fire within her that she knows will reach out and swallow her whole. She’s been burned by it in the past - so has he, more than she, unjustly and unfairly, and in ways no one should ever have to be burned - and maybe it’s better that they keep their distance from feelings that aren’t entirely platonic.

“I was going to wake you before I left,” Marcus calls back to her before he turns and offers her out the mug of coffee. “Didn’t seem right to leave without saying goodbye.” He leans back against the counter and he’s looking at her like he always does, like a best friend does, with a small smile and sparkling eyes and a friendly fondness that makes her feel appreciated each day. She’s glad last night hasn’t changed anything; if he’d been looking at her any differently, she thinks it might have broken her.

She’d expected things to be awkward and heavy. She’d fallen asleep hoping they wouldn’t, that things would be as normal as they are now, a repeated mantra in her head to remind herself that things don’t have to bear a terrible weight, but she’d expected inescapable tension in the air between them when they saw each other for the first time after what they’d done the night before. The terrible consequence of their agreement and how it would fall flat instantly when the realisation of their terrible idea sets in. Instead, the only thing that hangs between them is that easy informality that comes so easy to them, that her brother had joked about the night before. Maybe what they were doing was a terrible, ill-conceived idea - an idea that anyone else would think was utterly insane - but she’s glad it hasn’t tarnished the friendship that she holds so dear and is too scared to lose. Because he’s here, a gentle look on his face, making her coffee in her favourite mug. She doesn’t think she could ever get tired of seeing that damn smile. The smile that makes her feel so appreciated, so grounded, it’s so familiar and welcome and if she ever goes too long without seeing it she’s sure she would feel cold and brutally alone. He makes her feel at ease and, even despite her wild hair and sleep-kissed cheeks and the shirt that’s too baggy and slides off her shoulder, she doesn’t feel like so much of a mess. She’s forgotten the chill that had swept through her when her feet touched the freezing floorboards. 

She’s staring at him again, staring like she’s trying to figure him out, a puzzle to her eyes, staring at the fond smile on his face that tugs gentle at his lips, and blinking back at him without a reply.

But his smile only grows at the sight of it.

“You didn’t have to make me coffee,” Coraline insists after a moment, placing the mug onto the kitchen island and letting her chin drop into her hands where they’re propped up against the counter. She tilts her head to the side when he grins and shrugs his shoulders. “I’m serious, you’re my guest. I should be the one making you coffee.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m a great friend.”

Friend. He really is a great friend. 

Her best friend, the one person she really would dare to tell all her secrets to. 

They’ve become so used to joking with each other, the lighthearted jabs and sarcastic comments, that it comes as second nature. But she still can’t help but roll her eyes as she chuckles and takes another sip of her coffee; it’s sweet and just how she likes it. She knows that an inevitable sugar crash will come in the late afternoon but it seems worth it. 

Coraline runs her thumb around the rim of her mug idly, a distraction, she supposes. Manicured nails tinker against the cheap but long-loved ceramic. She’s half-sure Marcus is going to mention something about the night before — about what they did or what it meant to the feelings between them, or even when they were going to do … it again — but he never does. He just makes idle conversation from opposite her, too far away for her to touch but close enough for her to smell the lingering remnants of his cologne from the night before. It clings to the fabric of his shirt, to the curve of his neck. She’d recognise that smell a while away; sweet and strong and comforting, just like him. 

“I should be heading back to my apartment,” Marcus announces suddenly. He places his empty mug into the sink and reaches for his jacket and tie.

Coraline can’t help but frown. “You’re not staying for breakfast?” She doesn’t know why she asks; not long ago, she’d accepted the fact that he’d left for work without waking her, now she wanted him to stay longer.

She thinks Marcus sighs, but it’s too quiet to hear, if he does. “As much as I would love that.” His eyes are soft - that surely unintentional puppy-dog look of apology that melts her heart and softens her soul - when he turns back to her, looping his tie around his neck. “I think people might notice if I show up in the same clothes as yesterday.” His shirt and jacket are wrinkled from where they lay on her bedroom floor all night. There’s an especially deep crease, stark grey against the crisp white fabric, that runs from the collar to the waistband of his pants. 

Coraline sets her mug down and rounds the island towards Marcus. She smooths her hands down the creases in his shirt, trying to brush the wrinkles from his usually-pristine cotton before she bats his hands away from his tie. She can feel his gaze burning into the top of her head as she fiddles with the silken material, out-of-practice hands working the material like she does this everyday. She loves the simple domesticity of it all. It gives them both a moment to breathe.

“Cora-” His voice hangs low in his throat. “-what are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Marcus exhales deeply out of his nose and runs his hands up her arms. “You don’t have to,” he hums. “I can do it myself.”

“What can I say?” She smooths down the back of his collar and the knot of his tie. She tilts her head to look up at him. “I’m a great friend.”

She thinks for a moment he’s going to kiss her. There’s an unreadable look in his eyes; it’s intense and searching, and his brows are furrowed yet he’s smiling still. He holds her gaze for so long that she’s almost sure of it. That he’s going to kiss her despite their agreement that they’re just friends, nothing more and nothing less, and it’s still going to mean nothing because of the night before. Because they’re just friends and they know that. 

But Coraline wouldn’t mind if he did kiss her.

“So handsome.” She smiles, after a moment of soft silence, patting his shoulders once she finishes knotting up his tie. So damn handsome it’s painful. The smile is sweet and saccharine, welcoming yet still dismissive of any romantic intentions. She really wouldn’t mind if he kissed her, but he can’t. She really wouldn’t mind if this was a daily thing, if every morning she could wake up to him and his gentle smiles, but she can’t. Coraline wonders if the timing was different - if they’d met some other time, some other place, before their heartbreaks or when the reluctance of moving on had waned - would it be more than a friendship? Cora knows that friendships like this are hard to find amongst the fickle fire of Hollywood relationships, and she’d be damned if she ever let him slip between her fingers.

She hears Marcus hum low in his throat when she turns to drop her empty mug into the sink. The water runs and the heater hums, and Coraline pays no mind to the way his gaze lingers.

Marcus watches her; even in her early morning muddle - shirt far too baggy, slipping from her shoulders, drowning her slightness in it’s black, worn material; hair a near-tangled beautiful mess, twisted against the nape of her neck and mussed up on the side where she’d curled up against his chest; rosy red cheeks, pink-flushed like the sky during the sunset; the smile on her lips, soft and lazy with sleep - he still think she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He’d let himself drown in her beauty if he could, if there weren’t a life-preserver of past holding him above the calming waves. His brain placates his desire in the form of a platonic friendship and he keeps her close enough to quell the unintentional desire. Marcus rushed in headfirst and headstrong; somehow, this ill-thought out arrangement makes more sense than figuring what exactly it is that lingers between them.

They assume it’s friendship. That makes the most sense.

But he’ll remember this when it’s over - when the sleepless nights and exhausted days come and there’s this small, delicate thing that relies on them both just to get by - because how could he ever forget. He’ll remember her kitchen in the soft morning sunlight as the sun continues to rise and spills through the window, mellow unlike he’d ever seen it before, and he’ll remember the feel of her warmth at her side as she sleeps. Every fleeting moment he spends with her - between work and happenstance and everything that keeps them mindlessly busy for weeks on end - feels like a lifetime of teenage summers when friendship and sunshine are the only things that matter. 

“Thank you,” he hums again. He pulls on his shirt jacket; it’s wrinkled, like his shirt, from a night spent crumpled on the floor. He’s glad his apartment is within walking distance and he doesn’t have to take the Metro looking as disheveled as he does. Anyone awake enough would realise why he looks the way he does.

When she turns back to him, she’s smiling wider than before. The coffee has cut through the sleepy haze she’s worn since she’d woken and the Coraline he’s used to - the Coraline with the sunshine smile, golden and bright, and the enthusiasm that sparkles in her eyes - is back. Though he realises he’s just as fond as both versions of her: the drowsy woman in the morning light, blissful and comfortable when pulled from her dreams and the one who’s bright and vibrant and whose smile lights up his entire day. 

Marcus mirrors her smile and leans over towards her. He kisses the corner of her mouth; so close, yet so far away. Her eyebrows pinch together at the feeling, the gentle brush of his plush lips over her skin, barely an inch touching the curve of her lips, but settle before he pulls back and notices the pull on her expression. “See you around, Sunshine.” He bids her farewell before he sweeps from her apartment and she’s left to sigh and slump back against the kitchen counter.

Damn that man and the effect he has on her.

taglist: @wheresthewater @ah-callie @its--fandom--darling

[spade-riddles]

Submission:

Hi there! I’m the anon who asked for a conversation about what we (as Kaylors) actually fear from Karlie and Taylor letting the world assume Jerk is the baby’s bio dad. Switched to submission format because the Tumblr word count is tiny and asks get eaten and muddled, which makes it really hard to express yourself properly 😅

First I wanted to say thank you for engaging in a mature discussion about this. I really appreciate it. A lot of other blogs have either stopped believing Karlie and Taylor are together any more, or are more idealistic and don’t want to even talk about a less than perfect outcome to this story. It’s frustrating because while I understand the need for optimism (I feel that need too!) I don’t want us living in la la land and feeling disproportionately upset if we don’t get our perfect ending. 

So. I should probably lay out where I stand: I think there is a high likelihood Karlie and Taylor will let people assume the baby is Jerk’s, at least at first. My reasons are simple. 

1) The baby is due very soon. Taylor is used to sneaking around and we’ve talked before about how she is able to live in secrecy. The pandemic has definitely made that easier for her. But a baby is a whole different ball game. It will be frankly exhausting to sneak around pretending she’s not a mom, hiding her baby. And the more she hides it, the higher the risk of it being exposed by social media and becoming a huge gossip story. Taylor Swift’s secret baby! Kissgate was bad enough, I don’t think Taylor would want to risk a Babygate.

For this reason, she’s going to move soon to incorporate Karlie back into her life. Probably as a new single mom friend who is staying with / spending a lot of time with her after her marriage break up. The story may even go out that the feud rumors were bogus all along and the girls were good friends the whole time, and Taylor gave  Karlie the strength to leave her bad relationship. I expect Tay to be named godmother, which will allow her to be seen more with bub while the full picture is waiting to fall into place. 

2) So Taylor and Karlie are being seen together once more. Taylor looks like a great friend, Karlie’s image is slowly being rehabilitated as Taylor goes on a charm offensive, and the baby is a fixture in Taylor’s life that people think is sweet, but don’t really question because she’s supposedly still with J*e. 

No-one talks about J*sh at this stage. No-one interacts with him on social media, and they do their best to limit any media mentions of him as “Karlie Kloss’s baby daddy”. This is easier than it seems. Taylor has connections at Vogue, Karlie owns W, and Tree is an expert at shutting down unwanted stories. Any publication that wants future access to Taylor or Karlie will play ball, because why wouldn’t they? No-one is that invested in linking Karlie to a past beard forever, and no-one wants to bully a newborn child over a connection insiders will know isn’t even real. Sure, Scooter and his Page Six sock puppets will probably churn out articles stirring the pot, but that’s nothing new. The girls can ignore it or deflect attention, as they do now. 

3) Stage three of the plan sees the resurgence of “Kaylor” as a thing people are shipping. Hardcore fans will obviously know they’ve been together all along, but the wider public will start to wonder if Taylor has deeper feelings for Karlie, or if Karlie left her husband because she hopes to “get back together with” Taylor and take another go at their 2014 relationship. People start to link past songs to Karlie and speculate that lingering feelings for her “best friend” are what has stopped Taylor locking it down with J*e. J*e is boring and only seen on miserable pap walks with Taylor, but Karlie is seen hanging out with her and their friends in happy, seeming domesticity. People begin to talk about how much like the old carefree Taylor Tay seems again. The sunshine effect in full swing. 

4) Eventually Toe break up and Kaylor are revealed to be in a relationship. You’ll never please the homophobes but by now most fans are happy for Taylor. Taylor, who has de facto raised the baby since birth, jokes that she’s “daddy”. Karlie gives a more serious interview about what a wonderful parent Taylor is and how she has always considered her as much the baby’s mom as she is, because she was there all along and never gave up or walked away. She won’t be drawn on her ex husband but does make a statement about “what a great influence” Taylor is on their child. Etc etc. By now we’re a few years out from the Trump administration and J*sh is still known and disliked, but is hardly a household name. He was only ever “famous” (I use the term loosely) for being Karlie’s beard. 

People can disagree with me on this. Yes, his family are odious and will be in trouble for years to come, probably. But J*sh has always been a fringe member. He’s not Jared or Ivanka, who people really know and hate. He’s more like his father - people know he’s shady like the rest of them, but most people couldn’t immediately pick his face out of a line up, and they don’t know the details. I’m sorry, but it’s true. The general public don’t care about Jerk half as much as Kaylors do. Once he loses his celebrity connections he’ll fade from public consciousness. You think I’m kidding, but I’m not. How many people reading this right now would know if Dick Cheney passed them in the street? Not many, I’m guessing. Time passes and memory fades. People will “know” he’s the father, but in a fuzzy way, and soon enough it will fade to the point where this is brought up as surprising information. People won’t even remember she was married to him. It’ll become weird trivia that no-one really wants to talk about anyway, because it seems disrespectful. 

5) At this point, people either assume Jerk has a private relationship with the child, or they notice how Karlie never ever talks about him and speculate that he’s estranged from the child. It’s likely Karlie and Taylor would then go down the route of having Taylor officially adopt the baby at this point, though a public marriage would probably predate that, and all these things take time to roll out and seem natural. Even U-Hauling it!

If J*sh is smart, he’ll keep quiet during all of this. If Kaylor were smart, they would have engineered reciprocal NDAs, where Karlie can’t reveal their marriage was fake, but Jerk can never speak about the baby in return. And I think he might go along with this policy of silence. Remember, what he was always getting out of the arrangement with Karlie was that he appeared straight. Why throw all that away? He won’t want any real involvement with the baby, because it isn’t actually his. But it suits him that people think he got a woman pregnant, and it suits him that he can pretend to be a dad. Just “a private dad” who doesn’t see his kid much. Yes, we might get some annoying stunts where he tries to pretend, but if Karlie and Taylor continue to never give him any oxygen, it’ll eventually reach a stage where people can choose their own version of reality. Some people will think he’s involved and some won’t, but most people frankly won’t care either way. 

And I do think that’s the ideal scenario for both of them. Sure, Karlie could eventually leak gossip stories suggesting he’s not the dad. But that would be a hit to her reputation at a time when she is actively trying to rebuild it. WE might all be passionately anti-Jerk and gleeful at the idea of a cheating narrative, but I don’t think it would go down so well with the wider public. He may be from a scummy family but he’s always been viewed as “the one who’s not as bad”, and Karlie still made the apparent choice to marry him. Even if he was scum it would look bad to treat him like that after pretending she loved him .To say that she cheated with some meaningless random guy and got knocked up by him, and this other dude has never even been involved with the kid … . I won’t mince words here. It would make Karlie look terrible. People won’t be saying “ha ha he got what he deserved”, they’d be saying “ wow, Karlie is a sloppy mess”, “wow, how cruel to get knocked up behind her husband’s back”, and finally “wow, Karlie seems so unstable, she’ll treat Taylor badly too and bring trouble down on her head. She probably only even got back with her because she didn’t want to be alone. Taylor should RUN!“ 

This is NOT the impression they want people to have of Karlie. Which brings me to: 

6) Karlie’s reputation has suffered enough, and Taylor knows it. Taylor is no stranger to pivots, and she’s no stranger to playing the long game. What’s most important to her at this stage? I think it’s that she gets to live a free and open life with the woman she loves and the child they’re raising together. I don’t think she cares who is assumed to be, basically, the sperm donor. She will be daddy with this plan, and that’s what counts. So yeah, I think she would go for it. It’s a sacrifice I think she would make. 

And really, if he’s not involved in the baby’s life, is it even a sacrifice? We all talk about the “association” around here, but the child won’t have any actual contact with him and Taylor can freeze out any mention of him in the media. There is no actual threat to the child that I can see. Letting people assume he’s the father is NOT the same as letting him into the baby’s life. Kaylor not correcting people’s assumptions doesn’t mean they’re going to actively stunt with him. They can just choose to say nothing, the way they did with the “feud”. 

What’s the worst that will happen if people assume the baby has K*shner DNA but is estranged from the family? Seriously, people. Give me answers.

Not just “I don’t want people to think Taylor’s baby has his icky genes”. Because genes don’t make a person and they don’t necessarily make a family either. Taylor’s love and parenthood would not be ANY less if it was assumed she was the adoptive mom with no biological link to the baby. The baby would not be assumed genetically evil for having a few chromosomes from that awful family. Tr*mp’s own sister has been one of his biggest critics, remember? Genetics don’t dictate your politics or your moral compass.Only a fool would actually seriously accuse an innocent baby of being some kind of devil spawn, just because they thought it was Jerk’s. 

The K*shners can’t claim or take the baby. They can’t force Karlie and Taylor to stunt with them. So there’s no “using the baby to whitewash Jerk’s reputation”. There’s no putting the baby in danger. And the media aren’t going to bully the baby, because it’s poor practice and would make them look terrible, as well as costing them potentially lucrative future relationships with Karlie and Taylor. 

Taylor isn’t “letting Jerk take credit for her baby” either. Not if they refuse to stunt and if it plays out the way I described. Taylor will eventually get recognition as the baby’s real other parent, while Jerk is phased out. Taylor is patient. For the end game I believe she could stand a few months of this. 

 I’ve turned it over and over in my head and this is the only realistic solution I can see. All our other theories - Karlie pretends to be Taylor’s surrogate, Karlie pretends she slept with someone else, Karlie and Taylor expose the fake marriage, all of those theories - they all seem like wishful thinking. They would never be credible outside our tiny fandom of people who want any memory of Jerk purged forever. (Not possible. The Jerklie history will always exist on the internet, just like Taylor’s supposed “relationship” with Calvin.) We just have to let it go. Separate our heightened negative feelings from the actual likely long term consequences. 

This is what will probably happen, if we’re being really sensible and honest with ourselves. We need to stop being so absolutist and thinking it’s the end of the world, because it really doesn’t have to be. It can be just a bump in the road instead. I think we’d all be a lot happier if we adjusted our outlook about this possibility, to be honest. This all or nothing way of thinking is creating so much unhappiness and stress, I hate to see it. We need to just breathe! 

I truly believe we won’t get everything we want - but good things are coming. 

This is so long, sorry! But I had a lot to say. 

Yours, 

let’s call me, Pragmatic Anon

[harry-hollands]

selcouth // harry holland // 3

chapter 3: before and after the shadows

story summary: Harry was used to living in his brothers’ shadows. Tom was the actor and Sam was the cook and musician. He was used to being second best and genuinely gave up on finding someone who could love him for him. Someone who could believe that Harry wasn’t second best. His mindset changes however, when he meets you. The sunshine to cast away all of his shadows.

chapter summary: an insight into why harry has shadows, and why they seem to consume him at a certain time of the year.

pairing(s): harry holland x reader, past!harry holland x toxic!oc, implied tuwaine barret x broadway!oc, and implied paddy holland x oc

warnings: angsty harry, depressed harry, fluffy, and angsty

word count: 2.2k

A few months into meeting Y/N, Harry had found himself waiting for her after her rehearsals frequently. Sophia and Sicily teased the both of them incessantly, but expressed their happiness for the two of them, despite the common “We’re just friends!” response.

Sam and Paddy were probably the happiest for their friends. Harry’s twin and youngest brother had never seen the curly photographer so content like he was with Y/N. Wherever one was, the other was not far behind. 

Harrison liked Y/N but was still wary of the girl. Of course, if she was friends with his girlfriend, he could only imagine that Y/N was probably a genuine person. However, because of not only his status but his best mate’s, there was still some hesitancy about her. It was understandable, but Sora and Haz had gotten into a small argument about it, Sora feeling that he inadvertently doubted her judgment.

The three that were the most apprehensive about Harry spending a lot of time with Y/N was Tom, Nadia, and Tuwaine. Nadia liked her but feared that she was just using Harry to get clout, while Tom and Tuwaine knew that it had happened before in his last relationship.

When Harry had announced to his family and friends that he was in a relationship, everyone was ecstatic for the younger twin. The woman at the time was not very well known but had been friends with his family for some time. Their relationship had lasted a little over a year, but ended messily, with Harry calling it quits after some information had come to light. 

It was discovered that the woman Harry had been seeing had only been using the poor photographer for fame. Tom, who was single at the time, had been extremely confused when the woman had attempted to make moves on him while they were all out at the bar for the night. 

Tom had dismissed that night as an accidental drunken mistake, but immediately took that thought back as the next morning, Harry’s girlfriend had winked at him while grabbing a cup of tea. The poor actor felt the need to inform his little brother of what had happened, and when he ended up telling him minutes later, Tom was shocked to find that Harry didn’t seem fazed. 

All Harry did was nod sadly and shrug, actions that alarmed the older Brit. When Tom asked what he had meant by the smile and shrug, Harry burst into tears, something he rarely ever did. Tuwaine, who had entered to ask what the two wanted to eat for breakfast, was taken aback by his roommate’s actions.

In all the years that he had known the Hollands, not once had he ever seen Harry genuinely cry. Tuwaine, being the sweet guy that he is, walked over to where Harry was standing by the closet and gave him a tight hug. 

After tight hugs from his brother and best friend, Harry explained to the two that this wasn’t the first time She Who Shall Not Be Named flirted with others. At the very beginning of their relationship, she had made unwanted advances towards Sam but had dismissed it as a joke. Harry admitted again that Harrison had told him that she even tried making advances towards him, knowing full well that he was talking to Sora. 

Sora and Harry’s ex didn’t get along. Sora had thought that She Who Shall Not Be Named was a bitch, and only cared for money and a public image. Harry’s ex thought that Sora was too blunt, a know-it-all, and a dumb foreigner, which is the only remote way to describe the words she had called the American.

Two days after Tom’s confession, Harry had finally worked up the courage to break up with the woman. Long story short, there was a lot of screaming from She Who Shall Not Be Named after Harry had broken the news, and had kindly asked her to leave.

Harry was a mess, but for the first time since he had entered the relationship, he felt free. However, it had practically taken an army to ensure that Harry was genuinely ok. The first few months had been rough, mostly since all he wanted to do was drink beer, eat tub after tub of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream, and blast Little Mix’s song Shout Out to My Ex.

While Harry had healed and grew as a person, Tom and Tuwaine still lingered on the situation. They were the only ones to know that Harry had cried, and both knew that they never wanted to see that sight again. If it were Tom or Tuwaine’s way, the two wouldn’t let Harry date until he was at least fifty-years-old, but also, Harry was his own person, and he was an adult who was capable of making decisions.

Y/N had a clue of what had happened from Sora, but the latter declined to go into detail as one, it wasn’t her information to tell, and two, Sora would get so upset at the whole situation that a coherent sentence could not be formed. 

One particularly bitter February day, before the twins’ birthday, Harry finally worked up the courage to tell Y/N the full details. In the past few weeks, Harry had been distant, which caused a small rift to form between the twitterpated pair. 

Harry realized that he was often unhappy and the only way he knew to cure the shadows surrounding the poor man, was his fix of sunshine. Y/N had grown concerned when Harry didn’t show up after her rehearsals four consecutive days in a row. 

Y/N had asked Sora who was more often than not staying with Harrison, what was going on with Harry, but even she didn’t know what was going on, and she lived with him! Y/N had even worked up the courage to ask Sam, Harrison, and even Tom if Harry was ok, but all three declined to answer.

As soon as Y/N saw Harry waiting outside, there was no hesitation in the massive hug she pulled him into. Sophia was squealing internally watching the whole scene unfold, while Sicily scoffed, partly because she was done with being single, but also because she had seen the poor girl worry over the boy who she, personally, did not think was worthy of being fretted over.

Harry, who was caught by surprise about Y/N’s actions, hesitantly hugged her back. He had honestly been acting like a dick halfway through January, until now, the beginning of February, and here his sunshine was, hugging him like nothing ever happened.

“How have you been, ghost?” Y/N teased with a warm smile.

Harry, again taken aback by her actions, immediately pulled the girl into another hug. “I am so fucking sorry for ghosting you Sunshine. I have a reason why I’ve been acting so distant, but I completely understand if you think it’s just a fucking excuse and that I’m just another fucking div playing with your heart, but I promise you that I’m just a div, and I’m not playing with you.”

Y/N chuckled and gently pulled away from Harry’s chest, but still kept her hands on his waist in a comforting way. Her warm smile was instantly replaced with a frown when she noticed the stream of tears running down Harry’s face.

“Hey, love, what’s going on? What’re you crying for? You’ve done nothing wrong?”

“But I have! I’ve been completely ghosting you for like three weeks, and I’ve barely been visiting you after rehearsals, and when I do-”

“Hey. You’re going through something right now. It’s up to you when you feel comfortable letting me know what’s going on.”

“But I-”

“Harry, I promise you, everything is ok. I’m not mad at you. Never was. I was just extremely worried about you. Although, according to my stage manager, I’ve been portraying Eliza a lot better the past few weeks. So maybe you should worry me more. I’m kidding, don’t actually do that to me again, Sophia, Aiyana, and Sicily were exhausted over my constant worrying.”

Harry laughed and pulled her into another hug. “Ya think we can go be by ourselves for a while? You deserve an explanation on why I’ve been a dick.”

Y/N smiled and nodded, taking Harry’s hand and letting him lead the way to his parked car. Harry helped the girl put her belongings inside the boot, before helping her into the passenger side of the car, and then hopping into the driver’s side.

Sophia smirked at Sicily, holding out her hand expectantly, with Sicily groaning as she pulled out a wadded twenty-pound bill. “Fuck you, Soph.” Sicily groaned again.

Harry found parking in a car garage and the pair made their way through groups of tourists, before arriving at a view of the lit-up London Eye. The two of them stared out in silence before Harry launched into his explanation.

Throughout his story, Y/N’s face progressively morphed into disgust, as she listened to the full story of She Who Shall Not Be Named. Even though the woman was no longer in Harry’s life, Y/N felt a subconscious need to beat her up.

How could someone be so cruel that you use someone for fame? Y/N couldn’t understand, and all she could do was pull Harry into a hug after tears began pricking the corners of his eyes. 

“Thank you for trusting me enough for telling me why you’ve been so distant.”

Harry without any hesitance, hugged the younger woman back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and closed his eyes. “Thank you for not immediately getting angry at me for being a dick.”

Y/N giggled and pulled away. “C’mon, we better head back. I don’t need Tom and Sora calling the police on us because we’ve been missing for two hours.”

Harry chuckled before pressing another kiss to her head and pulling her with him back to the car.

As soon as the pair had arrived at the Holland-Osterfield-Barret-Parkes-and now probably Tanaka residence, Sora, and Y/N’s other best friend, Aiyana, immediately pulled the Broadway actress into a bone mushing hug. 

“Where the fucking hell have you been?” Sora practically shrieked in Y/N’s ear.

“Sora is just overreacting, but seriously I was getting worried about you, lolo.” 

Y/N chuckled before glancing at Harry who was getting hit upside the head by all of the boys. “We talked. We’re ok now.”

Sora and Aiyana shared a knowing look before pulling Y/N, and Harry inside the house to warm up. They were glad that the two had made up because even if Tom and Tuwaine didn’t want to admit it, everyone residing in the house knew that they had missed how much brighter their lives were around the girl.

About a week later, which was Valentine’s Day week, everyone was in a bustle to get everything together. Tuwaine was bringing up his courage to ask out Sicily, who finally, wasn’t introduced by Paddy, but by Sora, Paddy was shooting his shot with Aiyana who everyone knew shared the same feelings, and the two were lowkey hooking up. (They were not slick at all. Even Y/N and Harry were slicker about their secret feelings for one another...and that’s saying a ton.) 

Tom, Harrison, and Elysia were both coordinating with Y/N to get tickets to her opening night, which coincidentally was Valentine’s Day (Secretly, Y/N had already gotten tickets for everyone to attend), Sam was working with Y/N on a rendition of “Can’t Help Falling In Love” for Elysia, Nadia was buying any Spider-Man related thing she could find at a reasonable price, while Sora was secretly stashing her favorite Hawaiian snacks, and items sent to her by her family back home in her shared apartment with Y/N and Aiyana.

Harry didn’t have anything extravagant planned. All he was going to do was attend Hamilton, give her a bouquet of sunflowers, and a sun necklace, earring, bracelet, and ring set he got for a good deal off of Pandora. 

Y/N had taken a different route. She knew that the two weren’t ready to date, seeming as they had only met months before, and the two had both agreed that with their next relationships they had to at least have known each other a year. However, that didn’t mean Y/N wasn’t going to do something special for her beloved curly-haired photographer.

At the end of the show, Y/N was planning on singing one of his favorite songs, and afterward, hand him half of a Yin-Yang necklace she was planning on sharing with him and polaroids of the two of them.

On one of her days-off from rehearsals, Y/N, accompanied by Sora, ventured to downtown London. The Broadway actress was looking through shops, searching and scanning for the best quality Yin-Yang necklace she could find, while Sora was doing some window shopping. Y/N was also looking to find a rustic-looking photo album/scrapbook to place her polaroids in. As the best friends entered a quaint little shop selling some photo albums matching the aesthetic Y/N was going for, Sora’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the one person she never wanted to see again, and the person she never wanted Y/N to meet, standing at the register waiting for everything of hers to be wrung up; She Who Must Not Be Named, or Eira Williams, Harry’s ex-girlfriend.

~~~~~~~~

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[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 6

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: When you’re done with this chapter, please go sign some petitions regarding Breonna Taylor’s case, or perhaps purchase a book about racism and oppression from a black-owned business. Yesterday I bought a few books from The Lit. Bar. During this time, please remember to destress and take care of yourselves, but do not lose your anger and outrage. There is so much work to be done. Xx

Harry woke Melody early on the morning that he was being discharged. She felt almost like she was floating as she drifted around the room and packed up his things as well as her own scattered belongings. The sun was peeking through thin gray clouds and she felt warm.

“Babe, do you wanna call a cab?” she asked, tossing her phone onto the edge of the bed where he was perched, waiting for a wheelchair. All of the paperwork was already completed. Melody had already picked up his prescriptions from the pharmacy. Both of them were beyond ready to leave.

But Harry stared at her, his brow furrowed. Babe?

She waved a hand at him. “Hello? Are you okay?”

He licked his lips and nodded curtly before he picked up her phone. Melody lugged both the bags that she had packed up over each of her shoulders and wandered over to where Vanessa awaited her in the doorway.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Vanessa said.

Melody grinned. “We still have a lot of recovering to do.”

“Just, please don’t kill yourself trying to take care of him?” Vanessa and Melody scooted out into the hall as another nurse steered a wheelchair into the room and began helping Harry into the seat. “I know you’ve been waiting for this but you need to keep some time for yourself, too. Paint a little, write a little.”

Melody rolled her eyes. “I’m a big girl, thanks.”

“I’m serious.” Vanessa’s eyes were pressing as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “You’ve been there for him and you’ll still be there for him, but you’re also a person.”

“I get it, Vanessa.”

Harry wheeled himself over. His arms were gaining strength quickly but his muscles tired too fast for his liking, and his legs weren’t improving at nearly the same rate.

“Well, he still has therapy with Aiden once a week so we’ll stop in and say hi.”

“She will,” Harry corrected.

Vanessa glared at him. “Don’t make me stick you, mister.”

Harry scoffed. “Yeh’ve seen every one of my tattoos and yeh think needles scare me? Find a new threat.”

Vanessa smiled begrudgingly. She leaned in to kiss Melody on the cheek and then backed down the corridor. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Ready?” Melody asked Harry when Vanessa had rounded the corner. He handed her phone over and nodded. She dropped the lighter of the two bags into his lap and pushed him toward the elevator.

***

The ride to Melody’s apartment passed in near silence. She could see that Harry’s mind was working, questions churning up and over in his thoughts. His eyes were unmoving as he stared out the window at the passing city, ruddy leaves littering the sidewalks and Halloween lights already glowing orange inside the window displays of shops. She didn’t interrupt his reflection, even as they passed by the art store where he’d bought the paintbrushes for her birthday gift the year before. They only spoke when the taxi pulled up to the curb outside her complex.

When the driver popped the trunk of the car, Melody pulled out the wheelchair the hospital had loaned them. “Bea is gonna come down and help us,” she said as she positioned the seat beside Harry’s open back door.

“What?”

“We’re on the third floor, Harry, and there’s no elevator. I don’t think I can get you up on my own.”

He helped her slide his body into the chair and then waited as she paid for their ride, but he was nearly shaking when the car pulled away. He had almost forgotten that Bea even existed, and he certainly wasn’t ready for her to have to support him up a few flights of stairs, let alone live in a flat with her. “Yeh’re fuckin’ joking, right?”

Melody’s brows pulled together. “No, I’m not. What?” And Bea was stepping outside just as she finished speaking.

“Hi,” Bea greeted, lifting one of the duffels from the sidewalk beside Melody’s feet. Her eyes skirted over Harry and she seemed to stiffen at the sight of him, as though she were embarrassed, somehow. “Everything go okay this morning?”

“Yes.” Melody shouldered the second bag and began wheeling Harry in the direction of the door. She thanked Bea for holding it open for her and then pushed him through to the foot of the stairs. Her fingers ghosted over his ear when they stopped, and she wasn’t even remotely surprised when he shifted almost imperceptibly away from her. Anger radiated from him.

“Okay, so how are we doing this?” Bea asked. The door banged shut behind her with a rough gust of wind as she stepped up beside the two of them. “Just one of us on each side of him?”

Melody nodded, and when she reached down to slip an arm behind Harry’s back he lifted his hand to grip her shoulder. The relief at being out of the hospital seemed to be winning out over his anger, but he was more reluctant to hold on to Bea when she drew her own arm around his waist, above Melody’s, as he rose to his feet. She didn’t smell like Melody, whose perfume came off warm and sugary, but like fresh fruit and summer, and her thick hair tickled uncomfortably at the crook of his neck. The three of them maneuvered up the stairs, squished closely together between the wall and the railing, and then shuffled along the first landing to the next flight.

Harry was exhausted when they finally reached Melody and Bea’s apartment. Bea kicked the door open, huffing hard, and they led him through the kitchen and into the living room. It was jarring to be here, although he didn’t really feel as though it had been so very long between visits. Firstly, because the walls were a different color. The pale green he’d grown accustomed to here had morphed into a burnt orange, so reminiscent of the changing season outside. Secondly, because his stereo system was stuffed into the corner, beside the TV. And thirdly, because a woman who looked incredibly familiar but implacable to him stood leaned against the doorway to Bea’s room, staring appraisingly at him.

“So, he returns.”

“Shut up, Josie,” Melody muttered, breathing hard at Harry’s ear.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just leaving, anyway.” Josie slipped her arms into a jacket as Bea and Melody settled Harry onto the couch. She side-stepped the coffee table and pressed a lingering kiss to Bea’s lips. Harry blinked. “I’ll see you later,” she said, and then flashed Harry a thin-lipped smile. “Welcome home.”

The words rubbed him the wrong way, for some reason, and he felt his frown deepen as Josie left the apartment. It didn’t help that he still couldn’t place her in his memories. He knew her, he was sure, but he didn’t know if there was something wrong with his head that had made him forget. The thought scared him.

“I’m gonna go grab the chair,” Melody said. “I’ll be right back.” And she followed Josie out into the stairwell.

Harry glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact with Bea. He hated being left alone in a room with her. Not that he hated her. In truth, she made him nervous, like he had to seek approval from her, and he wasn’t even sure why.

“Who was that?” he asked after a few moments, when he couldn’t bear the silence and hoped the sofa would swallow him up like quicksand.

Bea laughed, a short, derisive sound, and shook her head. “That’s Josie, you know, the bartender that served you half your bodyweight in whiskey every night at Brute’s?”

Her face and voice suddenly clicked in his mind, connecting with dozens of hazy memories fully blurred with alcohol.

“I’m sorry,” Bea spoke in a lower voice, taking a tentative step toward him. She sighed. “That was rude. She’s my girlfriend.”

Harry nodded, biting at his lower lip. “What happened to Dom?” He surprised himself by remembering her boyfriend’s name, and her expression showed that she was surprised as well.

“He cheated on me.”

It looked like neither one of them were expecting such an honest answer. They stared at each other, curious and guarded eyes assessing.

“Oh,” Harry said.

Melody burst through the door then, lugging the folded up wheelchair behind her. She dragged it over to the closed doors of her studio and left it leaning there.

“Okay,” she began, catching her breath and fanning the sweat-dampened hair at the back of her neck, “do you wanna go through some of your things and find a place to put them? There are boxes in my room.” Her pulse hammered for a short moment as she thought about Harry finally, finally sleeping in her bed again. Even when they were in the thick of their relationship, he rarely stayed here with her. Her fingers itched to touch him then, but she wiped her palms along her jean-clad thighs instead. “Or we could order lunch and watch a movie. Bea?”

“Actually, I have a seminar I have to get to, otherwise I would join.” She smiled regretfully and wandered back into her bedroom.

“Whatever you wanna do, Harry,” Melody said. She leaned up against the back of the couch beside him, resting her cheek on a forearm.

Harry puffed out a gust of air and tilted his head back. He stared up at the ceiling, which looked as though it had been patched in dozens of spots.

“Would really love a bath,” he said eventually. He wanted to get the clinical stench of the hospital off of his skin, to feel and smell marginally like himself again.

“I can do that.” Melody shot up quickly and began padding toward the bathroom. “Your soap’s already in the shower.”

Harry heard the water turn on, thundering into the bathtub as Bea returned from her room, backpack on her shoulders and her hair twisted back. She waved at him as she left, and Melody reappeared from the bathroom just as the apartment door closed. She helped Harry stand from the couch and supported the brunt of his body as they shuffled to the toilet where she lowered him back down. Steam unfurled from the rising bath water, and sure enough his soaps were lined up along the lip of the tub. His very bones ached to climb in, and he was pulling his shirt over his head when Melody turned around from shutting off the faucet.

“Do you need help?” she asked as he struggled to get his pants off, but he only shook his head. She lingered while he stripped out of his clothes. They fell into a crumpled pile in front of the sink and then he let her help him the few feet across the floor. Harry's feet were clumsy as he stepped over the side of the tub and Melody was jerked forward. She cussed beneath her breath as she struggled to keep upright, and she ended up shin-deep in the hot water. Harry chuckled at her reaction to her sopping wet pant legs as they struggled to lower him into a sitting position.

“Where’re yeh goin’?” Harry asked, catching at one of her belt loops as she went to step out onto the bathmat.

“I’m gonna go change my pants,” she said.

“Yeh’re not stayin’?”

“Did you want me to?”

Harry arched a brow at her. “Well, yeah. Tha’s why I asked where yeh were goin’."

“Because you actually want me to bathe with you,” Melody began, "or because you just wanna see me naked?”

“Why can’ it be both?”

She breathed out an exasperated laugh and looked down at him, at his uneven head of hair, at the unfamiliar gaps where muscle and fat once sat on him and where bone now showed. She used to think he looked like an art piece, but this Harry looked more like a blank canvas, or the map of some unexplored land, and his face was expectant.

Melody crossed her arms to yank the hem of her shirt up her torso. She rolled the material over her head and then shed it atop the pile of Harry’s clothing. He let go of her pants when he was satisfied that she wouldn’t be leaving, and watched patiently as she slipped out of the rest of her clothes. While his body might look new and curious to her, Melody’s body appeared as if some amateur artist had tried to sketch her and used too much shading. There was definition in spaces that he had never noticed. Her muscles moved differently as she bent down to sit in front of him. He didn’t feel positively or negatively about the change, just strange, like he was looking at her through someone else’s eyes.

“Is the water too hot?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. He reached for her knees where they were folded up in front of her, all curled up between his own outstretched legs, and dragged her toward him. She slid forward, onto her shins, kneeling between his legs until they were at eye level. His fingers lifted to her shoulders and dipped down her arms, pressing against the cords of muscle that she’d gained over the past few months. She felt hard beneath his touch, less give. Her fingers curled around the outsides of his thighs to keep herself from slipping backward.

“Do you hate it?” she whispered.

Harry shook his head again. “No. And it wouldn’ matter anyway, would it? Doesn’ matter.”

“It kind of does.”

“No, it doesn’.” He leaned forward to press his lips to her collarbone and then kissed across her chest. Melody tilted her head back as his nose brushed the base of her throat. “And anyway,” he mumbled against her skin, “yeh look good.”

Melody shifted forward again, angling her face to meet Harry’s mouth with hers. Her fingers tightened on his thighs, anchoring her to him, and his hands lifted to brush back hair from her face, from where it had caught between his lips. His fingers were wet and they left water to drip down from the strands that he had touched, plastering it to her shoulder blades. He cupped her jaw with one hand; the other wound around her waist, which was so much tighter than he remembered. Harry chased her mouth when she broke briefly to recover her breath. He held her to him, water splashing up between them and her nipples hardening against his chest, until her hip was pressed against his cock and her fingers were working up his sides, greedy and hungry, and then he pushed her away.

Melody slid back along the floor of the bathtub, her chest glistening as it heaved and a divot set between her brows. She bit at her lip and the steaming water suddenly felt too cold against her skin.

“���M sorry,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over the top of his head. Droplets of water settled between the dark strands of his hair. “I don’ wanna— ’M not ready for that right now.”

Melody didn’t know exactly what that meant and she didn’t want to ask, so she said nothing. Instead, she settled back onto her bottom and let her legs fold up in front of her again, covering her chest, trying to keep the sting of rejection from leaking into her face. Her skin felt raw and exposed in the wake of the kiss.

Harry rested his head back against the shower wall. Melody looked uncomfortable and he sighed in frustration. He didn’t really know how to express himself to her. There was so much that needed to be said between the two of them, so much to catch up on, so many emotions and thoughts built up, but he wasn’t going to be the one to open the floodgates and he was dreading those conversations.

“‘M sorry, Mel,” he repeated when she did nothing more than stare down at the water. “Will yeh just sit with me for now?”

Her eyes lifted to scan his face, and then she grabbed onto the lip of the tub and pulled herself up, shifting the bathwater loudly with her movements. It ran in rivulets down her torso and thighs.

“Mel,” Harry groaned, clamping onto her calf. She batted at his arm.

“Let go of me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What?”

“Just scoot forward.”

Harry didn’t move, but Melody pushed him out of the way herself before she settled back down behind him. She stretched her legs out on either side of his hips and wrapped her arms around his ribcage, pressing his spine back into her chest. Harry tipped his head forward and stared at the way her hands fit the sides of his waist. He felt her lips lingering at the back of his neck, and eventually he let himself slip down into the water, his skull perched on her shoulder, her temple pressed to his. And he felt like he could have fallen asleep.

Chapter 7

[let-me-love-you-loki]

Never Too Late to Be Elite

A/N: What started with a visit from Kenny became, through a conversation with @mox-made-me-do-it​, a crossover between my Take Me Saga and In a Day or Two.  

  “Unc’a Kenny,” Nicole said, climbing up onto the sofa next to him. She had her stuffed Mickey in her arms as she curled up against his side. Kenny tucked his arm around her and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head.

           “Hey, Bug,” he said, grinning. “What’re you doing?”

           I grinned as I watched my husbands’ best friend snuggle Nicole, tickling her and making her laugh and squeal. Besides her Dada and her Papa, Kenny was her favorite person in the whole world. Whenever we went to shows, there was only one thing she wanted—and that was to find her Uncle Kenny and stay wherever he was until the night was over. It was adorable, really. And Kenny was fantastic with her—with all our kids really—and he treated her like a princess. She got piggyback rides and tossed up in the air and got to sit in the production area with too-big headphones on as Kenny watched the matches.

           Matt stood nearby at the stove manning a pot of pasta noodles and browning hamburger. I had my hands covered in onions and peppers. It was one of the only times that all of them had free that they could get together. Kenny had flown in from Winnipeg the day before, and we were expecting Adam Page and his wife, Emily, from Virginia any time. A big dinner was called for, and I was pulling out all the stops with Matt’s help.

           Nick was on kid duty while Matt and I cooked. He was camped out on the sofa with Kenny, a Clippers game on the TV and a fussy RJ in his lap and Leo rolling around in the floor with Oreo. Mattie was in her room cleaning out Bandit and Ranger’s cages so she could bring them out to see our guests.

           “Pway,” Nicole said, grinning up at Kenny. She batted her blue eyes at him, and I watched that big softy just melt into pieces. He rolled his eyes playfully and snatched up the discarded Switch from the table.

           “What’re we playing, Nik?”

           “Ammimmawls,” my daughter mumbled, tapping the screen with her finger.

           Kenny laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Animal Crossing it is then.”

           I crossed behind Matt in the kitchen and pulled out a pan to bake the spaghetti. “Is Shaye coming?” I whispered, low enough that Kenny couldn’t hear.

           Matt shrugged. “No idea. Kenny hasn’t said anything about her for weeks.” My husband glanced over his shoulder to where his friend was thoroughly entertaining our daughter with videogames. “I don’t know what’s going on with them. But it’ll be good for him to not have to think about it for a while.”

           My heart broke for our friend. I’d seen Kenny with Shaye Walker once, and there was no denying that he loved her. It was obvious in the way he looked at her. “It’s not going to be weird for him when Adam and Emily show up?”

           “Hopefully the kids can keep his mind off it. Nikki’s not going to leave him alone,” Matt replied, “and Mattie’s going to make him play with Ranger and Bandit when she gets their cages cleaned out.”

           I sighed and leaned up to kiss Matt’s cheek. “I hope things work out for them. Kenny really loves her.”

***

           “Tea,” Matt shouted down the hall. He was standing at the front door, grinning out at the newest arrivals to the Jackson compound. I glanced out the kitchen window and caught sight of Adam Page’s sandy blond hair as he passed by. “Somebody’s here to see you.”

           “Paaaaapaaaa,” our daughter whined, sticking her head out of her bedroom door. “I’m trying to take care of Bandit and Ranger.”

           Two sets of cowboy boots stepped across the threshold. Emily King—now Emily Page—grinned and waved her hellos at everyone. Matt gave her a one-armed hug and gestured her into the house. Adam got a fist bump and a head nod at Kenny and Nick. Oreo barked at the new arrivals, but was quickly re-distracted by Lee and a squeaky bone.

           “Sounds like somebody’s got some animals in the house,” Adam said, his voice booming against the rafters. It had a warm Southern twang to it that always made me smile.

           I waited a split second, and then, from the end of the hall… “Uncle Adam!”

           I peeked out just in time to see Mattie racing toward Adam, who had his arms out. He swung our seven-year-old up off her feet and squeezed her into a tight hug, kissing the side of her head.

           “Uncle Adam,” she said as soon as she was on her feet again. She wrapped one of Adam’s hands in both of hers and started tugging. “Come look. Dad and Papa got me two hamsters. You have to see them. Come see them. Come on!”

           Adam looked over his shoulder and grinned indulgently at his wife. I watched Emily beam back at him, her eyes bright with love.

           “Don’t hurt his hand, Mattie! We’ve got a match next week,” Nick shouted after them as he stood up, RJ on his hip. He sauntered over to hug Emily hello and was highly surprised when RJ stretched out his arms toward her. “I’ll be damned. He doesn’t go to anybody.”

           Emily smiled. “Kindergarten teacher, Nick,” she replied. “They can sense it.”

           She bounced RJ in her arms as she walked over to the sofa and took up Nick’s empty spot. Kenny glanced over and grinned at her, his attention still nearly wholly occupied by Nicole. Lee hopped up between them and started telling Emily all about Oreo and the tricks he could do, all while the dog splayed out on his belly at their feet.

           Nick slipped into the kitchen and started picking apples from the bowl. I reached out and slapped him in the wrist with a spatula. “You’re not going to have any dessert if you keep that up,” I teased.

           He grinned at me and pressed a kiss against my cheek. “You know you don’t mean that,” he said against my throat. He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me tight.

           “Well, I can’t make an apple pie if I don’t have any apples, Nick,” I replied, grinning at him. “And then you really won’t have dessert.”

           Matt laughed and thumped his brother hard in the ribs as he went by, stopping to give me a kiss on the cheek.

***

           “Alright, let’s hit it,” Nick said, standing in the middle of the living room. He whistled and clapped a couple times. Then repeated it all over again. Mattie came tearing down the hallway, dragging Adam behind her. Nicole kicked against Kenny’s shins and wiggled out of his lap to come stand at beside her Dada. Lee turned backwards and scooted off into the floor, then crawled over to Nick. “Table it!”

           Adam, Emily, and Kenny fell in line behind the kids. The dining table was groaning under cheesy baked spaghetti, homemade garlic breadsticks, salad, and a lattice apple pie that almost didn’t make it. Matt made drinks for the kids while Emily and I got the guys set up with something. Nick got a wriggling, not very happy RJ into his high-chair.

           “Hey, Mama,” Matt said, slipping in beside me. I leaned against his side, feeling exhaustion start to slip in. He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my hair. “Go sit down. You’ve earned a rest. Nick and I’ve got cleanup tonight”

           I kissed him on the cheek and went to sit down. Kenny grinned as he filled his plate to overflowing. “Are you okay, Y/N? You look pale.”

           “I’m good, Ken. Just tired.”

           Adam passed the plate of breadsticks down the table. “You didn’t have to go so big just for us,” he said.

           “This isn’t much more than a normal dinner for us,” I replied, gesturing around the table. “At least Nicole’s eating breadsticks now.”

           Nick grinned and gestured his fork at our youngest daughter. “Only because Uncle Kenny likes them.”

           Kenny looked down at Nicole and held out his breadstick. She grinned and chomped a bite off the end. “Because Y/N’s breadsticks are the best.”

           “Uh huh,” Nicole said, nodding.

           Emily smiled as she looked around the table at our family. I watched her take Adam’s hand and lean against his shoulder. He grinned and pressed a kiss on the top of her head, lingering with his nose in her hair and a smile of sweet contentment on his face. I glanced sideways at Kenny, happy to see that he was engrossed in keeping Nicole occupied by sword fighting with breadsticks. Most of the time, I’d tell the kids not to play with their food, but it was keeping Kenny smiling I wouldn’t complain.

           Kenny looked back at me, his brow furrowed. “Are you sure you’re okay, Y/N?”

           Matt glanced over at Kenny’s words, his dark eyes going worried as he looked me over. “Nick,” he said sternly, snapping at his brother to get his attention.

           Before I knew it, both were right behind me. I felt them lift my chair and pull it back from the table. Nick crouched down beside me, his hands skimming my cheeks. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

           I sighed. “I’m fine. I promise.”

           “Mama, you’re pale,” Matt said, stroking my hair. “You’re tired. Go lie down. We’ve got this covered.”

           “Y/N, I’m sorry if we put too much on you by coming,” Emily said, looking over at Adam. “We can help clean up. I don’t mind.”

           “I’m fine, guys,” I said looking between the two of them. “I promise, I’m fine.”

           “You’re not fine, Sunshine,” Nick added. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

           “I’m not going to pass out. I’m not sick,” I said frustratedly. “I’m pregnant.”

           For a moment, everything was quiet. I looked from Matt to Nick and back again. I forgot that Adam and Kenny and Emily were even there. The only thing that really mattered was the look on my husbands’ faces as the news made sense to them. They watched me for a while before wrapping me in a hug that completely engulfed me. I felt Nick crying against my shoulder, and Matt pressing kisses over and over against my hair.

           “You’re kidding,” Nick said through tears. “You’re kidding us, right?”

           I shook my head, afraid for the first time since the first time that this would be unwelcome news. Matt took my face in his hands and grinned, his brown eyes glittering. “That’s fantastic.”

           I glanced up and saw that Adam had his arm wrapped tight around Emily, looking down at her with nothing but absolute pure love in his eyes. My heart skipped a beat, hoping for only good things for them. Kenny smiled back at us, but I could see the sadness underneath.

           “I wanted to wait until later,” I said, looking at our friends sheepishly. “But you two can’t let something go.”

           Kenny ducked his head. “My bad, Y/N.”

           “No, Ken, it’s fine. They’d have said something even—”

           The doorbell rang. Matt, Nick, and I looked at each other, confused. “Were your parents coming?” I asked.

           “No,” Nick said, looking toward the door. He pressed a kiss to my hair and stood. Matt watched him go, a small smile on his face.

           I could hear murmuring by the door and then saw Nick come back around the corner. He was grinning just like his brother. “Hey, Ken? There’s someone at the door for you.”

           “Me?” Kenny asked, brows knitting together. He shrugged and stood up, only have Nicole latch around his waist. Rolling his eyes indulgently, Kenny hooked her around his neck in a piggyback ride and squeezed past Nick to the door.

           Silence, then the sound of Kenny’s dumbstruck voice. “Shaye?”

Tag List (tagging everyone for all the stories since it’s a crossover)

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @not-that-kinda-gurl08​ @lilred91​ @imagineall-the-fandoms​ @waywardstrong​ @lakamaa12​

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Allegiances | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | From the Beginning >>

Chapter 6

The sun was setting as Tinystar and Brackenfur returned to ThunderClan. Their walk through the moorland had been uneventful – a WindClan patrol had spotted them but did not pursue, which was welcome. Likely they knew the two would be on their way home from the Moonstone.

Tinystar’s dream still nagged at his mind, but the rawness of it had ebbed considerably since he’d entered the forest. Smelling the fresh scents and feeling the crackle of leaves underpaw had given him a spring to his step, and he had been eager to return home. Brackenfur, too, seemed energized by the trees overhead, his pace quickening comfortably on ground he knew well.

At first, the cats in the clearing did not see him. Tinystar was grateful for that – it let him take a deep breath of their familiar scents and look at them as their leader. His warriors, his apprentices, his Clan. The feeling had not long ago scared him but now he embraced it.

His eye caught on Mistypaw. The young she-cat was play-fighting with her brother, practicing battle moves. Tinystar knew that his leader duties could not interfere with her training. He had to get her back on routine as soon as possible.

Tinystar looked about for Whitestorm – the white warrior was one of the first that Tinystar wished to speak to. But Whitestorm was nowhere in sight, likely in the warrior’s den. Before Tinystar could set out to find him, a cry came from the nursery.

Ashpaw had come out of the cozy den of brambles and spotted him, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “He’s back!”

Suddenly Tinystar was surrounded. Brackenfur purred at Tinystar’s sigh. The apprentices clustered around him, eyes shining, while the warriors kept a respectful distance. Even the elders had managed their way out of their den, Dappletail guiding One-eye up to the crowd with her tail.

“Did you really meet StarClan?” Fernpaw breathed.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Stonepaw crowed, “What was it like?”

“Hush!” Mosspaw mewed sternly, though her eyes were just as lit up as the others. “He can’t speak of it!”

Her words did little to deter the apprentices.

“You’re Tinystar, then, right?” guessed Ashpaw. “Tinystar! Tinystar!”

“Tinystar!” the Clan called.

Tinystar felt a spark of pride overcome his tiredness from the journey. He looked upon his Clan and held his head high, smiling. Though he was half the size of nearly all of them, he couldn’t help but feel as if he were the tallest cat in existence.

“Was it hard?” Graystripe wondered through the din. The gray warrior came up beside him. “You both look exhausted.”

“It was.” Tinystar wished he could express just how hard it had been – but he could never speak of the sacred ceremony. He couldn’t even tell his friends of the cats he had seen.

Cloudtail scoffed. “Only ancient traditions would make you drag yourself to Highstones for this,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been leading ThunderClan just fine without some fancy journey.”

No cat scolded her – Cloudtail’s dubious faith in their warrior ancestors was clear now, and no cat wanted to argue on such an occasion. The comment did earn her some looks from other, older cats - but Cloudtail brushed them off easily, drawing a paw over her ear nonchalantly.

Still, Tinystar wished he could speak to her about Brindleface – the gentle queen had taken Cloudtail in as a kit and treated her as she had her own kits Ashpaw and Fernpaw. Would it make her see things differently, if he could? Tinystar had no idea.

“The traditions are important,” came a quiet voice. Lostface approached, rubbing her pelt against Cloudtail’s. “We believe in them, and that’s what matters.”

Beside her, Shredpelt nodded. The two cats wound around Cloudtail lovingly, and the ginger-and-white tabby she-cat purred at her mates. Tinystar blinked fondly at his niece, and was glad she had found herself two loving cats to spend her life with.

In the crowd he spotted Whitestorm and Oakheart. The older warriors were near the outskirts, giving Tinystar his space while the younger cats greeted him excitedly. Tinystar drew them forward with a flick of his tail.

“Has it been quiet?” he asked.

Whitestorm nodded. The white warrior looked tired and grieved, but he didn’t seem to be crippled by it. Oakheart stood beside him solidly, a rock that Whitestorm could always lean on. Tinystar was more than grateful for both of them.

Brackenfur purred, “The hunting’s been good.”

Tinystar glanced at the fresh-kill pile and noted that the medicine cat was correct.

“The dogs aren’t around anymore, so the prey started to come back,” Oakheart reported. “Sandstorm took all the apprentices out for a great hunt! You should have seen Mistypaw – she caught so much!” He swelled with pride for his daughter.

Tinystar glanced at Mistypaw. “Good job,” he told her. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

Mistypaw started at the words, her brilliant blue eyes wide. But the she-cat puffed out her chest and purred, her brother rolling his eyes beside her.

“Well!” Brackenfur meowed, “I need some rest.” He stretched his body out languidly, yawning. When he was done, his eyes glazed with sleep, he turned to Tinystar and reminded, “You need to pick a deputy before moonhigh!”

Tinystar nodded his thanks. He glanced up at the sky, just turning to night itself. “I’ve time to think on it,” he meowed.

“It will be important,” Brackenfur pointed out. “You need to pick a cat that you can work with, and one that can work with the Clan too.”

“Thanks,” Tinystar offered. “Sleep well, Brackenfur.”

The Clan was beginning to separate again, the crowd around him parting into little groups – likely to discuss who might be the next deputy. Tinystar was grateful for that – but there was one cat in the mix that he hadn’t seen, who hadn’t approached him, and it worried him to his core.

Sandstorm.

She was sitting in the shadow of the Highrock, her tail curled neatly over her paws. She didn’t deserve to be draped in such shadows – as Tinystar approached, though, he knew she was beautiful no matter where she sat: sunshine or shadows, drenched in rain or warm and dry.

“You’re home,” she meowed gently.

“I’m home,” he told her.

They stood in silence for a long moment – Tinystar could see the conflict in her eyes before she spoke the words to confirm it.

“Everything is going to be different now, isn’t it?” she whispered. “Between us? Y-You’re leader, and I’m just…”

Tinystar thrust his muzzle into her fur. He breathed in her warm, sweet scent and curled his tail into her’s. His long journey, his terrifying dream… all that he had seen and experienced, and all he wanted to do right now was lose himself in his mate.

“Nothing is different,” he insisted fiercely. “Nothing.”

Sandstorm rested her muzzle against his head and purred.

“Well, then,” Sandstorm said, “you need to choose a deputy.”

Tinystar pulled his head away. The two cats looked into one another’s eyes, and Tinystar felt like time had stopped all around them. He wanted to tell her so much about Redtail, about all that her father had done for him – but he couldn’t. He never could.

But I will keep nothing else from you, Tinystar declared. Not ever.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Sandstorm decided, licking his ear. “I know you’ll choose well.”

Her warmth lingered even as she uncurled from him, padding towards the warrior’s den. Tinystar longed to follow her – but his part of their nest would go unused for the rest of his life. He was leader now. Tinystar looked up at the Highrock. This was where he would sleep now.

He slipped into the den beneath the Highrock quietly, feeling the whisper of the dry lichen against his spine. The den had been cleaned – the nest primped and freshened, and a large rabbit laid waiting for him. The den smelled of one of the apprentices, likely a task set by Whitestorm.

Tinystar curled up in the nest – his nest, now. His den. His home. It was so strange, sitting in the bracken fronds. This was where Tigerstar had always been – a space he always seemed to exist in. The den felt empty and hollow without him.

I will make it my own, Tinystar decided. And perhaps Sandstorm will sleep with me here.

As Tinystar adjusted himself in his nest, his paw brushed against something soft. A tiny tuft of tabby fur was caught on one of his claws, smelling faintly of Tigerstar. Tinystar tucked it beneath his bracken, wanting a small piece of the late leader to be with him.

Tinystar pulled the rabbit over to him. As he ate, chewing slowly, he began to think about the only question he could answer: Who would be his deputy?

The critera, according to the warrior code, was small: The deputy had to be a warrior, the deputy had to have had at least one apprentice during or prior to their appointment, and they had to be appointed before moonhigh.

Tinystar frowned. That didn’t narrow his choices – every warrior in the Clan had trained or was training an apprentice right now. He flicked his tail. This had to go right – his own deputy ceremony had been after moonhigh, against the warrior code. It had cast a great shadow upon his actions, and the elders had too often said it had been a bad omen.

He would not put another cat through that.

They need to have experience, Tinystar thought. Youth is great but that’s not what I think is best right now.

He eliminated Dustpelt and Cinderpelt from his mind. Cinderpelt would be too busy training Snowpaw to be a deputy, and Dustpelt did not feel like a good fit.

Regretfully, he pushed away Graystripe and Sandstorm, too. They were his friends, but that was not the right reason to pick them – Graystripe was still fighting for the Clan’s trust after his tryst with a RiverClan queen, and Sandstorm was his mate: it would feel too much like playing favorites.

Mousefur and Longtail came next. Both had proven to be a great check to Tinystar’s own personality, but he didn’t want a deputy he would only argue with. Beside – neither seemed to care for such positions, anyway. A little ambition did go a long way. Though, Tinystar did consider that one day Mousefur might make a good deputy, if she wanted it.

Tinystar dug his claws into his nest. This was not an easy task, and time was wasting! His rabbit had been cleaned down to the bone.

Come now, Tinystar… A familiar scent crossed Tinystar’s nose. You know who, of all of ThunderClan, deserves this.

Redtail!

Tinystar closed his eyes and breathed in deep his scent and his wisdom. “Yes,” he agreed, opening his eyes.

“Yes, I do.”

———————————————————-

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

Tinystar’s voice rang out loud and proud from the top of the Highrock. His paws felt welcome on the smooth stone, which had supported ThunderClan leader after ThunderClan leader for generations. It was his turn now.

He looked down, watching his Clan as they padded forward. The moon was rising above the trees – they knew what this announcement meant. Cats gathered in excited groups, still eagerly gossiping over who might be chosen as Clan deputy.

Thankfully, Tinystar had made up his mind.

His eyes scanned the crowd. Nearly every cat seemed excited – nearly. Over near the outskirts, Stonepaw and Mousefur were glaring at one another. Stonepaw snapped at the older she-cat before whipping around to stalk away, finally settling with his littermates. Mistypaw and Mosspaw’s eyes glittered with concern, but Stonepaw was looking at his paws, unwilling to talk.

Hm, Tinystar noted, watching Mousefur stalk away herself. What happened there? Mousefur is a proud cat but I can’t imagine Stonepaw wanting to get under her fur on purpose.

It was something that had to be dealt with later. Eyes were gazing at him expectantly, and a hush had rippled through the crowd as they waited for him to speak.

Tinystar cleared his throat. “Cats of ThunderClan – as you all know, I have made the journey to Moonstone under accordance to the warrior code. I have been accepted by StarClan as your leader.”

“Tinystar! Tinystar!” the Clan called.

Tinystar waved his tail for silence. “The moon is rising and, in accordance with the warrior code, it is time for me to appoint a new deputy.”

The Clan waited with bated breath, eyes shining. Some more eagerly than others, of course – perhaps they thought it might be them? But Tinystar had made his decision already, and he knew it would be the right one.

He raised his muzzle to the stars. “I say these words before StarClan, so they may hear and approve of my choice!

“The new deputy of ThunderClan is Whitestorm.”

A ripple of approval came from the crowd. The white warrior looked up, his eyes wide with shock. Tinystar met his gaze, smiling down at the loyal old warrior. That’s exactly why it’s you, Whitestorm, he thought. You have helped me so much, helped ThunderClan so much, and even now you are shocked when you are given such a position. Had Tigerstar been in his right mind at the time, you would have been in my paws instead.

You are wise and humble, and for that this is what you deserve.

“Whitestorm! Whitestorm!”

Whitestorm was jostled forward by his Clanmate’s cheers, until the white warrior could turn to face them all. Their cheering died down under his sandy gaze.

“I am speechless,” he admitted. “I… did not expect this.” Whitestorm looked up at Tinystar, pride glittering in his eyes. “Thank you, Tinystar. I will serve you, serve ThunderClan until my last breath.”

“I know,” Tinystar meowed.

Tinystar watched as his Clanmates gathered around to congratulate Whitestorm. The old warrior was respected, his words valued by each and every one of them – even proud Mousefur, who butted his shoulder with her head and made a joke Tinystar couldn’t hear. Sandstorm touched noses with her former mentor, clearly so proud of him. Whitestorm’s kittens bounced around him, bragging loudly that they got extra fresh-kill because their father was deputy.

Tinystar looked down at his Clan and marveled at the bonds that held them together. So much strength lay in them all. Tinystar knew he could lay any of his lives into the paws of these cats and be proud regardless, and he knew that he would lay down any of his lives for theirs. The cats that had once seemed strange and wild to him during his kithood he now could not imagine his life without.

No matter what comes, he thought, no matter what that prophecy means… ThunderClan will survive.

[pawsimses]

3. What are some of your character’s most significant connections with others?

This took months to answer but I did it >>;For Lin, it’s first his fellow Jedi and friends, but most specifically his adopted family. Syo in particular; his Master (unofficially) has been part of his life since he was small and Lin is very VERY attached to him (albeit not outwardly). He sees Syo as his father figure outside his biological and adoptive ones, possibly more so. Syo is both role model and friend, and Lin will always love him. As such, he was crushed to learn the truth of the First Son, and strove to save Syo instead of ending him like Master Kaeden initially wanted (another can of worms for Lin but that’s unimportant and more a personal headcanon from my trash self lol). Even afterwards, despite being successful, Lin is saddened deeply when he’s still forced to say goodbye to Syo for the last time. It’s both a memorable moment and a learning lesson for him; letting go. Now to be fair, he isn’t Anakin (he’s not deep rooted in fear of loss), but he does struggle with attachments like the average person. But he understood, being raised as a Jedi, the importance of letting go and respected that, should it boil down to it, he’d let Syo die because that’s what Syo would rather have than let the First Son linger. Even so… Lin was still too attached to take that route, passing it off as a “last resort” over and over again because he still clung to the hope that Syo would be saved. But upon the victory and seeing just how exhausted Syo was, Lin realized how hard pressed this reluctance to “do the Jedi thing and not place his personal affairs into his decision making” was. It teaches him that, though he loves deeply, sometimes he HAS to make the right decision and let his loved ones go when its their time. Syo’s wasn’t that case but others will be. All in all, his heart broke when Syo sent him his last letter of gratitude and Lin may or may not have shed tears over the final severe between his and Syo’s bond as Jedi, marking Lin as a freshly minted Jedi Master on his own.… And then he meets Theron. Oh boy. Theron is both his light and foil to his Jedi person. Despite SoR details, Lin and Theron actually meet once before, on Coruscant during a gala (shortly after RotHC) to which the Council and SIS were attending. Theron was brought along by Marcus as a guest for his hard work (and attempt to get him out of his apartment for at least one night). Lin was sent alongside Kiwiiks and the Grandmaster to represent the Jedi at the event. Halfway through the night, Theron wandered off from Marcus to grab food when he bumped into a crowd of Senators and Jedi, Lin among them. He was introduce to Lin as the Barsen’thor and newest appointment Council member, and after a quick handshake, they part. They obviously meet again on the Fleet at the start of SoR, but its that meeting that spurs Theron to look into Lin’s credentials while seeking potential candidates for the Assault on Korriban. The rest is history :PNow Theron and Lin’s relationship is sweet but its not flawless. They both love the hell out of each other and simultaneously drive each other up the damn wall. Theron adores how sweet and kind Lin is, his quirks and bizarre behaviour that surfaces (genetic thing from his witch mother I’m not getting into) from time to time. He also hates how easy Lin gives in to others and lets people walk all over him. Especially his brother, Coxio, though Lin will stand up to him when pushed. Lin tries to please everyone and Theron tries time and time again to tell him WHY he can’t/how it’s not possible. He sees Lin blunder when Lin doesn’t listen to him and it irks him to no end because this is his husband, he should at the very least give some consideration to what Theron is saying. On the opposite end of the scale, Lin adores Theron for who he is, social ungraces and all. However, he gets annoyed by Theron’s “solo mode” attitude when it comes to both work and home life. He understands Theron’s issues with commitment and relationships, but it does bother him when Theron insists time after time that he can “cook dinner by himself” when Lin is trying to subtly imply that he wants to BOND with this activity together, dammit. Then comes work; Lin easily gets pissed by Theron’s insistence to DO THINGS ALONE. Especially missions that require team effort or at the very least LIN’S KNOWLEDGE (looking at you, Nathemia…).Then comes the belief conflictions; Lin, of course, being Jedi still holds to some of their ideals even if he doesn’t consider himself one any longer (he’s broken the Code and frankly has no desire to mend that fracture at this point in his life). “Letting go” is one; he feels that, should someone want it, they should be respected (hypocrite alert; he believes in it unless its on his call… yeah he learned a lesson but its a behaviour he still doesn’t curb or try to curb yet will remark on it like he has the right -_-; ). Problem is, he dubs this to himself more than others (see?). He’d rather give his life for his cause and people than let them go for him (his conscious is a guilty one, a bit selfishly too… realllyyyy regretting Torian rn TTATT). Theron, on the other hand, disagrees; this ties in with Lin trying to please everyone, Theron has issue with him trying to “play the big hero” because he can’t and shouldn’t, he’s worth more than throwing his life away for others just for the sake of sacrifice. (He’s aware too that Lin would rather live than die, a bit cowardice there but eh who isn’t with something in life?). This has spurred bigger arguments than the two would like to admit. Nathemia being a prime example; Theron’s attachment to Lin causing him to run a solo undercover so deep even a sarlacc couldn’t burrow as far irked Lin to no end, because if it would have spared the galaxy his blunders come the months after Umbara then maybe it was meant to be from the Force. Cue big hellish fight that ends with both exhausted. They reconcile and come to an agreement to not go this far again, but its not a good fight. Lin, being the doormat he is, forgives Theron in the end because he does know Theron did it out of love and is truly regretful. This time though the careless behaviour on Lin’s part doesn’t piss off Theron, it pisses off Coxio. Especially considering how Theron takes the answer without question, Coxio feels Shan does not respect his brother nor understand the damage he’s done and takes Lin for granted. (Yeah that… does not go over well the next time Coxio corners Theron in the war room…)Outside that, minor things that bad habits and leaving dishes and datapads lying around (and Lin over spoiling the damn cat) are all that the two bicker about. Oh and Lin not using his damn inhaler (asthma from lung damage via carbonite poisoning) when he’s supposed to, insisting “he’s fine, he doesn’t need it now” and Theron refusing proper med care, “just kolto spray and go, its cool”, which drive LANA nuts. End of the day, they love each other; but as with all marriages, its not always flowers and sunshine. They fight, they argue, they kiss and make up, they’re a couple as any other are. They come home, they spend time together with their cat, its good. Now comes Lana. In some instances, Lana is the wife of both Theron and Lin, others just the exasperated best friend. For Lin, she’s his best friend and protector. Sith or not, she’s one of the few whose stuck by his side regardless of every stupid mistake and decision he’s made, even as she calls him out on it. He trusts her like no other, even with some things he doesn’t tell Theron about. She’s also one of the few to mother hen him unconditionally, especially regarding important factors like “TAKE YOUR KRIFFING INHALER BEFORE I FORCE SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT!” and “I SWEAR TO THE STARS IF YOU KEEP GRAZING FOOD, I WILL STRAP YOU TO THE TABLE, FINISH YOUR DINNER!” (directed at both Theron and Lin equally) and “STOP RUNNING HEADLONG INTO BLASTER FIRE!”. He loves her and its through her that he comes to realize that the Empire are a people too, like the Republic, and becomes more receptive of its members, even if he disagrees with a number of their policies (slavery and discrimination for two…).Now comes family, and for this I will go with Coxio. Like the rest of his family, Lin did not know Coxio until adulthood, when they face off first against Malgus on Ilum together and then SoR before meeting again years later during KOTFE. Hell, he wasn’t even aware that they were brothers despite similarities in appearance (like his dad Arol, Lin’s a little dense…). All in all, his relationship with Coxio is… complicated. Coxio, despite his careless attitude and being a complete shit-disturber, values family over all else and loves his little brother unconditionally. This stems back to early childhood, when Lin was first born and Coxio was introduced to his new brother. In the short time before their family was torn apart, he was protective and loving to the newest family member, promising his father with six-year-old vigor that he’d always look out for Lin. A promise that made its way to adulthood, even if Coxio recognizes that its not as imagined. Lin, on the other hand, doesn’t care much for his brother at all, both from lack of familial relation and disagreement with Coxio’s actions as a person. He gets into more arguments than talks with his brother, which end in frustration on his end because Coxio blows him off and yet still insists on treating him like little kid when Lin is clearly not for that. Coxio knows this; he recognizes that due to fate and circumstances, they may never be close as brother, if brothers at all. As heartbreaking at that is for him, who spent his life quietly loving Lin even when he didn’t know what happened to him, he understands why and despite that factor, still loves Lin unconditionally and would give his life to protect his brother in a hearbeat. Lin… hard to say if he would; he would die for Coxio like he would his fellow Alliance members, but from a Jedi standpoint than family, which is more an insult than a reassurance. Even so, deep down part of Lin does love Coxio. Despite being exasperated most of the time, he does not hate Coxio; Lin wants to love his brother, tries to, but Coxio’s personality clashing with his and his constant harassment of Theron (who Coxio believes isn’t the best choice of lover for his naive little brother) put him at odds. It’s also due in part to Lin not really knowing Coxio at all and Coxio pushing boundaries by treating Lin as if he knows him inside out, which makes Lin uncomfortable since he does this from the get go instead of letting Lin slowly acquaint himself with Coxio. (Granted, after Nathemia, Coxio and Lin’s relationship does improve and Lin accepts Coxio as his brother, even if he drives him nuts. Post Nathemia its put under strain again for a short time, but eventually improves again). There are others, like Acina (whom Lin forms a very close friendship to until Iokath erodes it) but this point is long as it is so I’ll stop here lol

[impandagrl]

I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In

Meeting a sweet, attractive, customer at work is an innocent enough coincidence. What could go wrong?

Home Is Wherever I'm With You - Part 1

This story starts off a little sweet and tame, but builds. I wouldn't call it a slow burn, but it might take a few chapters to get the feel for this fic. This is just where the story started, bear with me. If you'd like a list of known future tags/warnings, shoot me a message because they contain spoilers.

If you'd like to be tagged in subsequent chapters let me know. I have six chapters written so far, I'll be uploading them on a random as-I-have-time/energy-basis.

I would not have been able to write this story without guidance and encouragement from my wonderful, infinitely talented, and long-suffering betas @justawaywardwinchestergirl and Edge_of_Clairvoyance

I've tagged a few people who showed specific interest in the one thing I posted like a year ago; I have no idea if this is something you'd like, so I won't bother you with any other tags in the following chapters unless you let me know you want to be tagged.

This is my first A/B/O fic. I never thought I would be attempting this, but the story has been building in my head the last several months. It is just a story I wrote for myself. I wouldn't say it's traditional anything, although there is smut in later chapters. I do my best to separate the smut from the story so those who want to skip those scenes can do so without it interfering with following the plot. Or, I guess if you only want to read the smut with minimal plot, it would work for that too . . .

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, Meet cute, Fluff, Possibly triggering if you've worked customer service, Mild Hurt/Comfort

“One large americano with a vanilla scone…” the customer in question came to retrieve their order, barely sparing her a glance. Well, they hadn't yelled at her, or tried to hit on her; she was going to call that interaction a win. She was still trying to shake off her encounter with one particular alpha earlier, whose deodorant had been overpowered by the sour tang of his ill-temper - the scent of which was still lingering in the air.

Her migraine was starting to flare up again and she still had several hours to go before this nightmare of a shift was over. She saw yet another customer approach out of the corner of her eye and mustered up the brightest smile she could before turning to face them. It wasn't their fault she was exhausted and in pain, or that she'd had to deal with a string of rude customers.

“Good afternoon! What can I get you?” her heart stuttered, but she was pleased to note she kept her voice and facial expression steady. He had to be one of the most beautiful people she'd ever seen. He had a smile for her as well and she braced herself against the counter, taking a moment to catch her breath under the force of it, combined with dazzling hazel eyes, gorgeous hair, and the perfect amount of scruff.

“Thank you, I'd like a medium black coffee. For here, please.”

“Coming right up! Would you like to try a quinoa muffin? The cranberry orange is delicious . . .”

His expression turned thoughtful and she found it almost as adorable as his smile. “Sure, why not? Thank you,”

“May I have your name for the order?” She waited expectantly.

“It's Sam.”

“That'll be $3.83, Sam.”

He gave her a five and declined the change.

She was granted another smile and a thanks when she presented him with his order a couple of minutes later and he took it to sit alone at one of the tables, grabbing two cream packets on his way over. In between helping other customers, she caught a glimpse of him reading from a worn, hardback book, taking careful sips of his coffee, but she didn't see him leave.

That cute guy with the nice smile stuck with her as a bright spot in her otherwise dreary day, but she didn't think much else about it.

Next week her Thursday shift was going a bit better, but that didn't mean she didn't get a thrill when she saw chestnut brown hair and twinkling eyes over the shoulder of the customer she was currently serving.

“Well, hello, Sam! What can I get you today?”

She was rewarded with a grin like pure sunshine, and she was surprised to note his eyes seemed more blue this time. “A medium black coffee, please. And, that quinoa muffin was delicious, did you say they come in other flavors?”

“Let's see, besides the cranberry orange, we have blueberry lemon, cinnamon apple, and coffee nut.”

“I think I'll try the apple - for here, please,”

She was heating up his muffin when he cleared his throat behind her. She turned to see a bashful smile. Gah, did he possess any facial expressions not specifically designed to steal her breath away?

“You know my name, but I don't have yours . . .”

“Oh,” She reflexively reached down to fix her nametag. The darn thing was always getting twisted around until it was unreadable. “Y/N, sorry about that.”

“No worries, just be glad I wasn't with the name tag police, I would've had to write you up,” the sarcastic humor on his face made it difficult for her to rein in her laughter to a polite chuckle.

She handed him his order and he looked - adorably - chagrined, “Sorry, that was terrible. I'm ashamed.”

“Not at all!” He gave her a reproving look that, even in jest, left her weak-kneed, “well, maybe a little, but there's no need to apologize: it *was* funny,”

“You're too kind. I'll see you next time, Y/N,”

Next time!? She would not say no to seeing him again, but did that mean he was specifically looking forward to seeing her again? Was this going to be a regular Thursday thing? She wouldn't say no to that either. She felt a fluttering in her stomach causing her to muse ‘uh oh, Y/N, I think you're in trouble. . .’

She couldn't believe she'd let her hopes get up so high, but she didn't even want to admit to herself how disappointed she was when the next Thursday came and went without any sign of her favorite customer.

The following Monday was hellish, and she could have sworn her week just went downhill from there. She couldn't help waking up a little hopeful that Thursday that Sam would make an appearance. She could use a pick me up.

Those good thoughts were driven from her head the moment she walked through the door. Her manager, Terri, was there freaking out because the GM had popped in for a surprise visit. The manager started in on her, insisting that she was late, even though she'd definitely arrived two minutes early. Terri then followed her around as she set up the store to open, criticizing every move she made. “Is it so hard to just use common sense?”

She swore she was going to end up punching her manager, or yelling back before the day was done, and she could not afford to be fired.

Then her coworker showed up (late, as usual, but of course Terri had nothing to say about that) and proceeded to spend most of the morning whining about personal stuff and avoiding doing any work, instead of actually pitching in to help her.

Of course the morning rush was brutal and didn't even slow down enough she could take a lunch break. Finally, a customer who had clearly asked for an iced mocha, went ballistic because, “I ordered a hot mocha! It's freezing in here, why would I want it iced? Are you deaf, or just too stupid to understand the difference between hot and cold?”

Terri swooped in, “I'm so sorry for the mix up! We'll definitely make it right, your hot mocha will be on the house! I'll make it myself; it'll be out right away.”

Y/N didn't hear any more, because she was heading for the restroom trying to keep her head up and hold back the tears until she reached her refuge. Damn it! The ladies room was locked. Not only would she have to wait, but whoever was in there would be able to see she was on the verge of crying when they passed her coming out. She turned, not sure where to go, and ran into a solid chest.

Two hands loosely gripped her upper arms and held her carefully as she caught her balance and looked up into Sam's face. His expression was full of concern (Yep, still too beautiful for words for those keeping score at home) and he didn't make a move to let go for a moment. “Hey, are you okay?”

She'd had such a suck-fest of a day, and he felt like safety, and care, and . . . home.  She nodded and then, ridiculously, the dam broke and she just burst into tears. He held her closer to him and shifted one of his arms so it was supporting her back. Within a couple minutes, she became aware that she was sobbing in a customer’s arms and, out of sheer mortification, forced herself to regain control, managing to mostly stop the tears. “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!”

“You don't have to apologize.”

“That was so unprofessional . . . And I got your shirt wet,” she pointed to the damp patch in the middle of Sam's shirt, horrified.

“Honestly, it's fine, you've obviously had a day.”

She let out a weak chuckle. “You could say that.”

He steadied her and tentatively let go. He reached out a hand as if to touch her face, but pulled back at the last second, so that just the tips of his fingers brushed her cheek, wiping at a tear that was still streaking down it, “Do you have a break or something any time soon?”

She nodded, trying not get lost in his kaleidoscope eyes, “I'm supposed to get fifteen minutes for lunch.”

“Would you see if you can take it now, and join me?”

“I would be interrupting your reading time, I'm afraid . . .”

“You wouldn't be interrupting anything. If you don't feel up to it right now, I completely understand; I won't be offended, but I'd like it if you sat with me.”

“Okay, thank you.”

Sam nodded, “Thank you. I'll meet you in that corner booth?”

“Okay.” they both seemed hesitant to leave, but with a little nod Sam got in line to order, and Y/N went to let Terri know she was taking her lunch break.

Terri gave her a judgemental look meant to make her feel like she was slacking, but even her sour manager couldn't deny she was overdue for her break or legally say anything about it.

It was when she was grabbing her lunch from the break room that she stopped in her tracks as it dawned on her why that feeling of warmth and safety had come over her when Sam had touched her; why she even now felt uncomfortable standing still when he'd instructed her to do something. Her new friend was alpha. She really was in trouble.

But did that really change anything? She'd never met an alpha she felt that comfortable around - that's why it hadn't clicked right away. He was sweet and kind, and thanks to the best suppressants she could afford, she was safe from unwanted advances. And she was in a crowded coffee shop for crying out loud! She deliberated only a second, before heading over to wait at the corner booth.

Sam slid into the other side of the booth a few moments later with his plate and coffee. “I'm afraid you're probably sick of everything here, but I got two of the coffee nut muffins, just in case.”

She gave him a genuine smile, “I'll have one, thank you very much.” She caught a better glimpse of the book he had tucked under his arm. “The Two Towers? Are you a Tolkien fan?”

“Yeah, just rereading it for fun. You?”

She nodded, enthusiastically, “I love them. The movies are great, but they really short-changed several of the characters; there's just no beating the originals.”

“Oh, they butchered Faramir, for one!”

“Seriously! I was so pissed about that! I can watch them now, though. It sorta taught me not to demand perfection of movie adaptations. You have to treat them as separate entities. If you can't, don't bother watching them, you'll just be disappointed.”

“That sounds like good advice.” he chuckled.

“Sorry, I know I get too into that sort of thing.”

“Please, you don't have to apologize! It's refreshing, honestly, I've never been able to talk about Lord of the Rings around my brother.”

“Oh? Because he doesn't approve? Or he has a well-worn copy of the Silmarillion, and speaks Sindarin?”

Sam burst into surprised laughter, “Um, the first one, definitely! Although, I don't know, he's becoming more open about the ‘nerdy’ things he likes these days.”

“That's good. Life's too short to not enjoy the things you love. Are you and your brother close?”

“Yeah. I mean, we lost our mom young, and our dad passed a while back. We're all we've got.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, he's pretty great. Just don't tell him I said that.”

“I would never!”

“What about you? You close with your family?”

“Um, I used to be. I haven't seen any of them in a while.” She didn't mean to sit awkwardly quiet after that, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

He seemed to read in her face the desire for a subject change, “So do you?

“Do I?”

“Have a well-worn copy of the Silmarillion and speak Sindarin?

It was her turn to laugh, “I always meant to read it, but I could never finish it.”

Their talk moved to other books on their favorites list and they were able to find quite a few that they had in common. Finally, she looked at her watch, “Shoot! I have to go, before Terri has a conniption. Will you be here next week?” The question had slipped out before she could think better of it, but he didn't seem to think it was weird or prying.

“I'm not sure. I travel for work, and I never know when I'm heading out. If I'm in town, I promise I'll stop by.”

She smiled, “Thank you, Sam. Today was going pretty terribly before you got here. Not everyone would do what you did.”

“I'm glad I was there to help. You made my day too, you know? I'll see you next week, hopefully.”

She waved and rushed back behind the counter before Terri could come looking for her. Not even her snippy boss could bring her down the rest of the day. A hot, kind, sweet alpha, that made her feel safe, bought her muffins, whose smile was like the sun coming up, and he was a book nerd? Oh yes, she was in deep trouble.

This way to Part 2

@pinknerdpanda @neversatisfiedgirl @amanda-teaches

[smolfangirl]

We’re so in love, fighting against all odds, I know we’ll be alright

A sound so sweet, of you and me - 16 - First coming home

Kudos to my ice pack and tissues to myself, because this is the last chapter and I’m emo. It’s been a pleasure to share this story with you and I hope you’ll enjoy this final part and that maybe, one day, you’ll read it all over again with a smile. Thank you, for every like and comment, it warms my heart ♥

Word count: 3.4k

///

“Gastón, please, could you stop writing my boyfriend full novels, so he can answer me too?” Luna couldn’t help but add a hint of annoyance to her tone. Five long days without any contact to Matteo thinned her nerves too much to let Gastón’s spam in the second Matteo was back online uncommented.

“It’s not my fault he likes me better.” Said boy grinned, not even glancing up from his screen for a single moment.

“That’s what he wants you to think”, she mumbled.

Gastón chuckled. The gaze he threw in her direction suddenly looked so smug – so much like the one her chico fresa usually wore – that she wanted to cry.

It’d been too long since she last saw it in person.

Her phone beeped.

Novio fresa: Gastón’s puns will be my end one day… or the reason I go to prison

How is my favorite moon?

A smile hushed on her lips, wider than the ones he elicited before he even knew how much he made her feel. But before she could begin to type an answer, Gastón called for her attention.

“Did he tell you yet if he’ll come back this summer? Before they left for whatever that town was called, he promised me he’d ask his parents but right now, he’s avoiding that question.”

“How could he when he’s mostly answering you? I haven’t even replied to his first message yet because you keep spamming him.”

At that, he remained silent in defeat.

Luna shook her head, not at him, at herself. She wasn’t this grumpy, she didn’t lash out at her friends, and most definitely not at Gastón who showed so much support for her since Matteo had left for Italy.

Or usually, she didn’t.

But now, with the weight of the past days, the weight of the future in front of her wearing her down, she discovered she wasn’t all sunshine. She was rain, too. And lots of it.

“I’ll ask him, okay?” she offered as she smiled at him. Or tried to. Too much anxiety jolted through her body at the thought of Matteo leaving her alone here, leaving her behind when she needed him by her side so much, more than she had told him.

More than she wanted to tell him while he stayed too many miles away.

To novio fresa: I’m okay, just miss you

How was the trip? Got rid of the snow yet? And did you ask your parents?

Was Luna surprised he didn’t have an answer to the last, and most important question? No.

Did it still hurt? Like hell.

He sent pictures of his trip to distract her. Gastón hovered over her phone too, mostly so Matteo could save some of his data. Stunning landscapes filled the photographs. Endless mountains against a clear blue sky, forests bedazzled in soft white powder and a few snaps of ocean waves lingering on a beach.

Surprisingly few included Matteo, though.

It worried Luna, more so when his smile barely resembled the radiant, blinding ones he used to wear, when nothing above the horizon could shine as bright as he did.

But when she asked, he insisted he was fine. Just tired, or he couldn’t see himself on the screen while taking the selfies, or another lame excuse. How much she’d give to hug him until he grinned again…

“Luna, Gastón, can you look up from your phones for just one second? Juliana will be here any minute now.”

Ramiro appeared out of nowhere. He simple was there suddenly, or perhaps she’d been too focused on the opened chat with Matteo.

Luna blinked at him. “Huh?”

“Please tell me you remember that she wanted to talk about the next Open. I have this awesome idea for a performance, but I can’t tell her when she’s too busy getting your attention.”

Now Gastón and her exchanged a confused look. “It’s not our fault, Matteo’s been on a trip the past days and we just miss him”, Gastón explained.

As Ramiro sat down next to them, he shook his head. “Just don’t piss Juliana off by being too attached to that thing, is all I’m saying.”

Out of choices, Luna put her phone away. But during Juliana’s speech, her mind stayed far, far away.

The next time she unlocked her screen, she found two messages from Matteo which caused her heart to crumble into the smallest corner of her chest once more.

Novio fresa: I have to go again, we’re leaving for another trip

Just two days this time tho

To novio fresa: Send me pics when you’re back, I love you

She wanted to tell him she missed him, that this lack of opportunities to talk to him broke her heart and that she needed him, she needed him so so much.

In the end, though, she never wrote that.  

Matteo replied a few minutes later.

Novio fresa: Love you more! And don’t worry I will, you’ll feel like you’re right by my side

If only.

 ///

His heart refused to calm down. Beat after beat, it violently raced in his ribcage, unable to stop, unable to rest. None of the deep breaths Matteo took, none of the scolding looks from his parents had brought him any relaxation. Ever since the last morning, he drowned in excitement.

Now he stood outside, staring at the place connected to so many happy memories, connected to the people he called his home. He took the view in, thought of who he’d find inside, clueless and waiting and soon in his arms again. Despite the long trip, not a single ounce of exhaustion was to be found in his body.

Another deep breath. He needed to chill, at least a little, at least until he found her.

Could you be too ready for something?

 ///

In hindsight, planning their reunion easily amounted to one of the most naïve things Matteo had ever done. He really, really should’ve known better, given their history and how Luna always was good for a surprise herself.

He barely made it five steps into the Roller.

Then, there was the sound of skates on the ground, a voice humming an all too familiar song that made his heart skip a beat and suddenly, she stumbled into him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

Silence.

Matteo looked at her. Felt his heart sighing, felt peace flooding his veins, felt a smile unfolding on his lips. She stared back at him, disbelief painted all over her face. He could see her brain trying to catch up.

“Hi, solare.”

“You – but – trip – how – you’re here!”

He nodded, not trusting his voice to carry him before he turned into a puddle of emotions.

The first teardrops began to roll over her cheek, though they were caught by the smile that broke free and put the sun along with every other star in the sky to shame.

“I am”, he echoed. Her lips numbed the last part as she fiercely pressed them against his mouth and then they were kissing, and his brain shut down while their faces soon became the playground of their tears, and he felt happy, happier than he’d been in a long time.

I missed you so much.

Breaking apart, Luna’s face was still close while she clung to him as if he’d disappeared the minute she eased her grip on him. “I can’t believe you’re really back.”

Something about her tone caught his attention. Something about the ever-flowing stream of tears, about the sadness he found in her eyes that he never had seen before.

She opened her mouth, whispering, “I need to tell you…”, only for her voice to break.

However, behind them someone yelled his name and whatever just clouded his little moon was gone. Smiling once more, she kissed him again.

“Matteo!” Gastón, undeniably, and Matteo barely turned around before his best friend began running towards him, arms extended until he looked like he escaped from a telenovela, lips pursed.

“Do I get a kiss too?” he asked as he threw himself at Matteo. Luna, who managed to step back just in time, sent her boyfriend an amused look.

She seemed fine again, so he decided not to worry and enjoy being back.

Back home.

“I knew you were attracted to me”, he snickered, “But I’m afraid I can’t give you a kiss.”

“Don’t be so afraid of loving me.” Gastón still clung to him, while Matteo patted his back and grinned at Luna, who raised an eyebrow at them.

“Oh, I do love you. You both.”

///

“I can’t believe you didn’t say a single word!” Luna exclaimed later when they sat down in the cafeteria. With milkshakes (strawberry, she wouldn’t let them get anything else) in front of them and Luna on his lap, the smile stuck to Matteo’s face all by itself.

Her eyes glistened at him and he simply had to steal a peck from her lips.

“You have no idea how much I wanted to, little moon. I wanted to tell you so, so much.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

He chuckled, thinking of the disbelief and utter happiness in her eyes, of the enthusiasm carrying her kisses. “Tell you? And ruin the perfect opportunity to surprise you? No, I couldn’t.”

“Awww”, she mouthed. Another kiss. Her thumb caressed her cheek, sent impulses of warmth through his core, like the first sun rays of spring after a long and harsh winter.

“Guys, I’m here too”, Gastón complained. “And the others should be done with training soon as well. Actually, they’ll see you in a…”

“Matteo?!”

With a sigh, they broke apart. Stroking through Luna’s hair one last time, he turned to his friends, who seemed as flabbergasted as Luna had been. “Hey everyone”, he said, “Haven’t seen you all in a while.”

They had so. Many. Questions.

Matteo drowned in them, words rushing over him from every direction and in the hectic attempt of answering, he barely noticed how Luna turned more and more silent. She leaned against his chest, face buried in his shirt. Eyes closed as far as he could see.

Only after the initial excitement calmed down did he begin to wonder what happened. If there was more to it than sleepiness, than exhaustion.

“Hey, Luna”, he whispered into her hair.

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna go? So we can be a bit alone?”

A nod.

Matteo grinned, then called for his friends’ attention. “Guys, I just got my girlfriend back, so could you excuse us for a while?” Silence, followed by wiggling eyebrows and knowing smirks, but at least they let them go. As he threw one last glance in their friends’ direction, Simón made kissing noises.

He only stopped when Matteo winked.

To be honest, though, he already guessed making out wasn’t what they were about to do.

They found the wardrobe empty. A “Do not disturb”-sign laid on the table, so Matteo put it on the doorknob before he faced Luna and pulled her into a hug.

The tears followed immediately. Heavy sobs, accompanied by thick streams of tears, each one echoing through his bones, torturing his heart.

“It’s okay, little moon, I’m here.”

Wet spots spread over his shirt. Matteo pulled her closer. Rubbed her back. Whispered a soft melody of comfort into her ear. Told her all the things he hoped would ease her pain.

Slowly, she stopped shaking.

Stains of her mascara underlined her eyes, so he handed her a tissue. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Her gaze hurried through the room, searching yet not finding whatever they intended to discover. She sighed.

“I’m…” another deep breath, “I’m Sol Benson.”

“Sol… Benson?” The name sounded weirdly familiar, like a story hid behind it, one he had heard before but couldn’t remember. “Wait. Isn’t Sharon’s last name…”

“Benson. She’s my aunt.”

Like that, she cried again, buried her face deeper into his chest as a waterfall rushed out of her eyes. Memories popped up in his head, of the time she told him how badly she wanted to know her birth parents, how she planned to ask them why they gave her away, how she imagined seeing them again for the first time. How ambitious and curious she’d been, and how right now, she was a crumbled shadow of her past self in his arms.

“Didn’t you want to know about your past?”

“Yes”, she sniffed into the fabric. “But this… it’s horrible! They’re”, she hesitated, voice frayed in every single letter and accentuated by her tears, “dead. They died in a fire in the mansion and Miss Ben… Sharon hates me. She hates me, and, and…” Her sentence ended in a hiccup.

More tears. Always more, they found no end in her misery.

He opened his mouth to reply – the words a tangled mess in his throat – but Luna kept going. Like a waterfall breaking free from a breach in a dam. “She’s awful and she scares me, but I couldn’t tell anyone because I don’t know how, and you weren’t here, and I really, really don’t want to go back to the mansion, I… Iwanttostaywithyoupleasedonteverleavemeagain.”

She collapsed into him, all strength gone. All the weight that surely sat on her shoulders after keeping this secret in for heaven knew how long vanished.

With his arms around her waist, Matteo supported her, carried her to one of the chairs while she kept crying.  

Everything about her screamed misery.

It broke his heart to see her like that. Where did all the rain from her eyes come from? Where did the storm in her sky steam from when she usually was so vibrant, so luminous? How did her body carry it all?

“Hey, little moon, please, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m here.” He put his hand on her cheek, stroke her skin. She leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to go through this, you don’t deserve this, you deserve better than this. I wish it would’ve worked out differently. And I’m really, really sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

Her eyes still drowned in sorrow as she half smiled at him. (Or tried to.) “It’s not your fault.”

“Look, I can’t change your aunt. But we can ask your parents if you can stay over tonight, if you want”, Matteo added.

“Yes, please. I don’t want to go back.”

“But you know, eventually you’ll have to”, Matteo added carefully, his fingers not leaving her for a single minute. She seemed to fade at his words, floating away, and he wondered if perhaps he was the only thing that tied her to earth right now.

“But I don’t want to. I want to run away.”

His heart skipped a beat.

“You’re not one to run from your problems.”

Luna sighed. It sounded heavy, like the whole world crouched on her small shoulders. “What if I want to be?”

“That’s okay, and I get it, I do”, he answered, sighing. Suddenly, the exhaustion from the flights kicked in.

All he wanted was to go to bed, he wanted to hold her in his arms until he woke up and found her right by this side. He didn’t feel ready to give her a pep talk; the tiredness left his mind too numb to comfort her the way she always comforted him.

But then again, were people ever truly ready to give pep talks?

“You know, before we left for Italy, I thought about running away with you too”, he confessed.

“You did?” Surprise echoed in her voice, a pleasant change from the sadness and despair.

“Yes. Too many times, it felt. But in the end, what would it solve? Nothing. And we got through this, didn’t we?” He laced their hands, followed her eyes as they studied the embrace of their fingers. “Just like we’ll get through this too. Together.”

“You promise?”

“I do.”

///

“I love you”, she whispered that night when they laid in his bed, with her completely wrapped in his arms. After hours of talking and embracing her and pressing gentle kisses all over her, her tears had dried, and she finally reminded him much more of his little moon who refused to give up on anyone and anything.

“I love you too.”

Luna snuggled closer to join their lips. Featherlight kisses, nothing compared to the restless ones from this afternoon. He had missed them, had missed this – simply cuddling with her in bed – had missed her so much. The memory of being robbed of her presence, of his mind being enchanted with her while his body craved her, still lingered in his stomach, although he reckoned it would soon disappear.

A hummed laugh left her mouth as they broke apart just enough to share the same breaths. Yet, when he met her gaze, she looked all serious.

“What is it?”, he wanted to know.

“I’m sorry I ruined your surprise. But I’m really glad you’re back.”

“You didn’t ruin it”, he assured her. “You couldn’t have.”

///

He woke up in the darkness, confused and dizzy from the sudden exit his dream had taken. For a moment, he blinked into the darkness. Listened to the silence. Breathed in the familiarity of his room.

The mattress moved, sinking in under hasty movements next to him. “Luna?” he whispered.

“Yes?” She sounded out of breath.

“Are you okay?”

No answer. Just a sob.

A second one. Soon, she began shaking again.

“What if… what if it’ll always feel like this? If I never figure out how to deal with all this? She calls me Sol all the time, but I hate it, I don’t want to be her, I just want to be Luna again.”

More tears, like her eyes owned an unlimited supply of them recently.

“You are, munchkin, you are. Sol and you, you are the same person.”

“No, Sol has a family that’s either dead or crazy. That’s not me, that’s not who I want to be. And she has more money.” Bitterness leaked into her tone, and Matteo wished he could take the pain away from her, could give her a new birth family that loved and supported her and didn’t make her cry in the middle of the night.

“Really?” he said, hoping the joke he was about to make brought out at least the tiniest smile. “Well, then I guess drinks are on you next time.”

She laughed.

Shortly, and it ended before it ever truly began, but it counted as a laugh nonetheless and warmed his heart.

“No, seriously, Luna. It’s gonna be alright. Remember how I was afraid of your name once too? I had a choice back then, and so do you today. And whatever choice you’ll make, I won’t love you any less. We won’t love you any less. You have amazing parents who love you so much, and I’m sure your birth parents would love you just as much if they could see you now.”

Luna fell silent during his little speech, head rested on his chest. Her fingers hovered right over his heart, they’d been mindlessly wandering over his skin but came to a halt when he paused.

“It won’t always feel like this, I promise”, Matteo concluded, smiling down on her.

“I know”, she mumbled. “It’s just that… ugh, I don’t know. I feel so helpless. I never thought I’d say this, but this is harder than when I had to let you go at the airport.”

“No way”, he huffed, although the smirk slipped into his voice, betraying him, “I can’t believe this isn’t the single hardest thing you ever had to endure anymore. Do I mean nothing to you?”

His comment earned him a single slap on his chest, but a laugh accompanied it, so he didn’t mind as much. “Gosh, you’re so full of yourself.”

“I beg to differ. I am full of extra fresa.”

Luna giggled, a blessed sound in his ears. If he could save a copy of it and play it over and over again, he’d do it in a heartbeat.  

No more tears ran over her cheeks, and her body felt more relaxed in his arms.

“You are so strong, there’s nothing in this world you couldn’t do. And I’ll be right by your side, I promise. I love you.” He almost added solare, but ultimately stopped, too afraid to make her cry. Maybe, one day, that word wouldn’t remind her of her past, maybe one day, her past wouldn’t hurt her anymore.

Until then, he’d be using his favorite name.

“Luna.”

[seventyfiveapples]

Shaken

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bright / Nick Jakoby x OFC

Previous Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven.

Story Summary: Nick receives an unexpected invitation from a charming middle school teacher with a mysterious past. 

Billie took a gulp of the stale diesel fuel the hospital was passing off as coffee and sat up straighter in the scratchy waiting room chair, attempting to will herself awake as she waited for any news about Lucy or Gilda.

For the last two days, Billie was either at work or at this hospital, waiting and drinking this shitty coffee.

Lucy was going to be okay, at least. The plaster had cracked into smaller pieces before hitting her, resulting in mostly surface injuries: a head wound that bled profusely but that was easily stitched, a concussion, a broken shin, and numerous cuts and bruises. Remarkably, she did not require surgery and would most likely be released in another day after a bit more observation. She was in and out of consciousness, but Billie was grateful she would pull through.

Gilda was another story. Her injuries were far more severe and she hadn’t yet opened her eyes since the earthquake. 

Billie had insisted on riding in the police car as Nick drove to the ER, applying pressure to Lucy’s wounds as they rode so that she wouldn’t bleed out on the way, and trying to keep both as still as possible.

At the ER, one of the intake nurses asked for Gilda’s next of kin... and Billie was gutted as to realize that Gilda didn’t have a single name to enter. She’d lied and given her own name, saying she was an aunt. No one questioned her.

Since then, she’d kind of thought of herself that way, and since Lucy was more or less stable at this point she was glued to Gilda’s bedside. Every few minutes she looked up to scan the child for a sign - any sign - of movement. Nothing so far. She sank back into her chair and resolved to wait as long as needed.

Her heart broke at the possibility of Gilda waking up in her hospital room completely alone. How could such a good-natured kid have no one to look out for her?

It broke her heart even more to think she might never wake up.

Like most orcs, family was everything for Billie. She grew up idolizing her two older brothers, hoping to become a Fogteeth member herself someday.

When she was Gilda’s age, Billie was a real tomboy and was often treated as “one of the guys,” or at least like one of the guys’ little brothers. They used her as a "lookout" for some of their small-scale robberies and she was ashamed to remember feeling proud about that. As a kid, she saw her brothers as The Good Guys, no matter what, and the rest of the world - humans, elves, etc. - were villains. She'd justified some of their criminal activities by the idea that anything that benefited orcs and hurt humans was somehow righting the injustices she saw around her.

As she go a bit older, she started to understand that the world didn't work in absolutes. The more she understood about the world outside of her neighborhood, the more all the stories she told herself grew cracks, and those cracks spiderwebbed out, connecting facts and shattering long-held assumptions. Maybe, she was forced to admit, maybe her brothers weren't The Good Guys.

The first time she wondered who, exactly, her brothers really were was the first time she saw them actually hurt someone, punching and kicking a shop owner they were robbing. He hadn't done anything to draw their attention, he just happened to run a convenience store. The second time, the time she really pulled back, was when her first girlfriend had been shot in the leg by a stray bullet. The third time was the final straw. She was serving as a lookout for another convenience store robbery, and a small human child - no older than 6 or 7 - came up to her and asked who the men were who were talking to her daddy. Billie knew the child couldn't hear the sick thuds of body blows that her orcish ears detected, and she just stared at the child, unable to speak.

She went home that night and cried harder than she'd ever cried in her life, feeling guilty, torn, and trapped in a life she was finally starting to understand and resent.

Oddly, it was through the encouragement of a human teacher in high school that Billie built up the courage to confront her brothers. Her teacher saw real promise  in Billie and encouraged her to apply for college, something no one else in her family had done. She passed along scholarship opportunities and articles about how to strengthen college applications. She asked her every week about her plans. Without that teacher, Billie didn't know if she could envision a different life than the one that was slowly taking hold of her.

Because of that teacher, Billie had made it her life's mission to be a positive influence on others, especially other orcs. She knew the impact that a teacher could have and teaching became her goal.

For their part, her brothers supported her in her decision not to follow in their footsteps, even though she never hid how she felt about their criminal activities. It was an uneasy version of "agreeing to disagree" that seemed to somehow work: Billie drew clear boundaries and her brothers respected them. The three of them had enough love and devotion to keep that commitment... at least, that’s what Billie hoped.

 Nick walked into the hospital after his shift with arms full: flowers for Lucy and Gilda and a cup of what he hoped was “some decent fucking coffee,” per Billie’s request.

He walked in Gilda’s room and held out the coffee to Billie.

“Sweet Jirak, thank you,” she told him, shaking her head to wake herself.

"You’re welcome. Any news?”

"Lucy's been awake, off and on all day. She'll be thrilled to see you. No change for Gilda."

"And you? Have you been here all-"

"I'm not leaving," she snapped. It sounded harsher than she meant it. Nick didn't take her response personally. He placed Gilda's flowers - a small pot of violets - on the windowsill.

"If you want," he said in a soft voice, "I can come in here after I visit with Lucy so you can take a break, get a bite to eat or something."

Billie nodded but said nothing. Nick patted her shoulder gently before leaving the room.

To his delight, Lucy was awake when he came in, and all smiles.

"Hey, cutie!" she greeted him. 

"Hey, yourself! These are for you," he said, placing a large flower arrangement on the counter facing her.

"They're beautiful! Come here and kiss me so I can thank you!" Nick happily obliged. "The doctors said I might get to go home tomorrow. Are you free? Maybe I could make you some dinner or something." He smiled as he relaxed into a chair by her bedside. Seeing her covered in bruises and cuts was torture, but he knew she wouldn't want his pity, so he tried not to stare.

"That would be nice. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know, like a building fell on me," she smirked. He reached out a hand for hers and slowly brought it to his mouth, kissing it. If he had sustained the kind of injuries she had, he'd already be back at work, thanks to orcs' healing abilities. Then again, if the debris had fallen on his head, as it appeared it would, he wouldn't be here at all. He couldn't believe she had risked her life for him.

"Well, do me a favor and try not to leap in front of any more falling debris."

She shrugged. "I can't make any promises. Hey, at least when I'm in here, there's people everywhere. I don't have to worry about Dave for a few days." She looked at him and tried to affect a casual tone as she asked, "Any news on that front, by the way? My car is back at the house - anyone get close to it?" They'd decided to leave the GPS tracker in place on her car now that they knew about it, in the hopes that they could use it against him at some point.

He just shook his head. All of their leads seemed to evaporate, and he felt like he was letting her down, time after time. 

Worrying about Dave was both terrifying and exhausting for them both. She thought of ways to change the subject. She started to wonder how Nick would react if she pulled him down into the hospital bed and started a vigorous make out session...

Some commotion from the hall stopped her from finding out.

“GUYS!” cried Billie from several doors down. “It’s Gilda- she’s awake. She’s awake!”

A day later, and Dave was ready to make his move. He’d already spent more time on this than he’d thought possible, and he was more than just angry, now. He wanted to be sure that bitch paid for it. He prepared two syringes full of sedatives, wrapped up a knife for good measure, and headed to the hospital in order to arrive before the orc cop’s shift ended.

He looked in a mirror: his disguise wasn’t perfect but it didn’t have to be. The plan was to be in the hospital for five minutes, tops.

This bullshit would end today.

Sunshine! 

It felt so good, Gilda thought, raising her face to the sky and breathing in deeply. She was outside for the first time in three days, and she was trying to enjoy every second. Ms. Billie would be here any moment and Gilda wanted to surprise her by casually sitting on the bench outside, although the nurse was anxious to get her back in.

”FIVE more minutes, please?” Gilda pleaded, then pulled an over-dramatic face. “I almost died.”

The nurse rolled his eyes but smiled and relented. Gilda smiled and got ready to relax on the bench again, when suddenly - BAM.

A man rushing past had crashed right into Gilda, knocking her on the ground. He was tall, with a lean frame, and he didn't even pause to apologize as he rushed in. He was dressed in scrubs, but they didn't smell like they'd been inside this hospital before, ever. In fact, the smell lingering after him was altogether... peculiar to Gilda.

“Hey asshole, watch where you’re going!” Called the nurse, helping Gilda up. Gilda wasn't hurt but she felt unsettled. The man radiated hostility and anger. He wanted to hurt someone, she thought, but she didn't know why. 

Sniffing her arm where he had bumped right into her, she sensed an odd combination of smells. First, the ocean. She could smell seaweed and the kinds of fish that swam close to the shores. Next were the smells of fuel and creosote: odd chemical smells orcs could spot a mile away. Hovering just behind those, however, was something else that seemed completely out of place. Maybe she was mistaken? The last smell was something... sweet. Cookies? Pies? 

She forgot about it as the nurse helped her back inside to her room.

"What do you fucking mean, someone knocked her over?!" Gilda heard Billie shout on the other side of the door. She'd been out there for a while, at first talking to Gilda's social worker, and now yelling at the hospital staff. "Aren't you guys supposed to help her get better, not get her more fucking injured? You know that girl's a goddamn hero, right?!"

Gilda's heart swelled as Billie yelled. She was almost able to stop wondering what Billie and the social worker had been talking about. The dormitories at Saint Emydius were nice, and there were a few other students who stayed there, but she loved being in this hospital. There were so many people around all the time, and they all seemed to care about her.

Especially Ms. Billie. She was funny and even though she cussed a lot, and brought her homework - seriously, homework in the hospital, Ms. Billie? - Gilda knew she really cared about her. She tried to remember if this was what it was like living with her orc family...

After a few minutes, Billie came in. She walked right up to the bed with an excited expression that made her face look like it was lit from behind. She tried to talk in a serious was. 

"Gilda, the doctors say you are almost ready to leave the hospital. What do you think about that?"

Gilda's heart fell. She knew Billie was expecting her to be happy about this, and forced a smile.

"Oh... good news!"

"Well, the bad news is... the dormitories at school took some damage from the quake, and it will take at least a month to fix. I talked to your social worker, and she says - if it's all right with you, and if I pass a home inspection - and of course if you want to, you could come and stay with me and Miss Harris for a while." Billie looked nervous as she spoke.

Gilda had never seen Billie nervous before, she thought she was pretty much fearless. It touched her to realize how much she was hoping for Gilda to say yes. "What do you think?"

Gilda's eyes filled with tears and she couldn't speak. This was the best news she could have imagined. She sat up straight and pulled Billie into a tight hug.

"Yes! Yes! I want to stay with you, Ms. Billie!" 

Only a quick moment later, Billie burst into Lucy's room, beaming, and ran right up to her bedside. She was so excited that she didn't even notice the stricken look on Lucy's face.

"Lucy, honey, guess what? Gilda's going to stay with us for a couple of weeks!"

Lucy opened and closed her mouth, seemingly in shock.

"I know, I know. I should have talked to you about it first. Aw crap, is this a problem? What are you-" Suddenly, her heightened orcish senses realized that something was very wrong in this room, and it had nothing to do with her news.

She realized Lucy was trying to draw her attention to someone or something behind her.

Billie tried to turn around slowly, casually, but this small movement was all it took for the strange man in scrubs to leap towards her and plunge a syringe into her neck. Lucy tried to scream as her friend slumped to the ground but Dave’s hand was already covering her mouth. He had another syringe in his hand, pointed towards her.

"Miss me, Jennie? Or should I call you Lucy now?" Before she could respond, Dave plunged the syringe in her neck and deposited her unconscious body into a hospital wheelchair. He tucked the orc's body behind the hospital bed and pulled the door mostly shut, then, as casually as possible, he wheeled Lucy down to the elevator and piled her in his car.

Nick had requested to leave a little early that afternoon, and he headed to the hospital. Lucy was getting discharged that day. He wanted to drive her home himself, and spend a little time together. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, with no sign of cloud or - he sniffed the air - earthquakes. He strolled onto the hall where Lucy's room was and noticed that her door was shut. He rapped a few times and waited for a response.

"Hmmm..." came a sound from the room. The voice sounded female, but it didn't sound like Lucy. His brow furrowed as it became more clear. "Heh- help. HELP!"

Nick flung the door open and saw Billie's hand waving from behind Lucy's hospital bed as she struggled to stand. "HELP! SOMEBODY!"

Lucy's bed was empty.

@beastlybfs @bonnietakesnosh-t @cinnamonroll-issues @abigfanofyours @fantasticauthoroafzonk

[daily-dose-of-naruto]

How would gaara, shisui, and Naruto feel about an arranged marriage? How would they treat the bride to be? How do they handle the wedding night and how is life after that?

Hooooo shit, I got so excited this became a mini-story. I’m so sorry, unless you like long headcanons, in which case it was my pleasure. I’m a sucker for the arranged marriage trope. Also sorry about the Gaara gif, but I think he would make a fetching bride. ~Admin Axel

Naruto, Gaara and Shisui in an Arranged Marriage

Sabaku no Gaara

As Kazekage, Gaara is no stranger to the idea of a politically motivated arranged marriage. A marriage to strengthen the bonds between two villages or clans is an antiquated practice, but it’s not unheard of even in this day and age. While Gaara is not what I would call pleased by this proposal, he isn’t against it either if it’s in the best interest of Sunagakure.

Gaara is polite, but reserved about the whole thing. He doesn’t open up to or even trust people easily, so while he will always be a gentleman, he will keep enough of himself locked away so he can protect himself if things don’t work out.

It would be a lengthy engagement so he can gauge if he can trust her, but it’s worth it. In the end, when Gaara finally trusts his bride-to-be, he is so sweet to her. He can’t believe he got so lucky in something like an arranged marriage when he spent his whole life reaching out for someone to love and who will love him in return.

Gaara has a hard time concentrating during the lavish reception because he knows what he is expected to do when they are finally alone. Gaara is filled with a nervous anticipation, but he hides it well for the sake of the party. When he takes her home, he undresses her tentatively and reverently, leaving soft kisses over the skin he exposes. The first time he is intimate with his wife, he makes love to her. There’s plenty of time for rougher exploration later, but that night he just wanted to take it slow with her and learn what makes her feel good.

Their marriage would strengthen the alliance between Gaara’s village and his wife’s village, and in the quiet aftermath they would enjoy a peaceful and prosperous life. Gaara quickly learns to balance his work and his life at home with his wife, because he wants to enjoy this stroke of good fortune and never take a single moment for granted. Within the year, Gaara would begin talking to his wife about starting a family together.

Uchiha Shisui

Most of marriages in the Uchiha clan are arranged on some level, but usually between distantly related family members to keep the bloodline pure. Shisui grew up with the idea that while he could have flings with non-Uchihas, eventually the day would come when he would have to give that up and marry a relative. The proposal doesn’t exactly surprise him, but it throws him for a loop when he finds out his bride-to-be is not part of the clan.

The Uchiha clan expects him to conduct himself with dignity and stoicism, but he doesn’t really care about behaving as he’s told. Although he has a humble heart, there is something about impressing a woman that brings out the competitive side in him. Shisui will talk her into sitting in at his spars with his family members and pull out all of his flashiest moves for her.

After a while of learning who his fiance is as a person and deeming her worthy, he is loyal to a fault. He believes that if there is anyone who truly deserves the kind of devotion he is capable of, it’s the woman who will one day have his children. He always puts the needs and desires of his bride-to-be before his own, even if it costs him.

Shisui fidgets through the entire wedding ceremony and inwardly curses the pageantry and long-winded speeches that the women in his family insisted on. For months both he and his fiance had to be content with lingering touches and stolen kisses, and he wants her. He wants her like he has never wanted anything in his life, and he makes that clear to her the moment he finally gets her alone. Their first time is intense and passionate and when it’s over and they’re laying there catching their breath, it’s next to impossible to stop smiling because the future looks so promising. Shisui wakes his wife several times throughout the night for a repeat performance - he just can’t get enough of her.

Marriage isn’t always going to be neat and blissful, and Shisui is well aware of that so he intends to make the most of the honeymoon phase. It’s not long after their wedding that the Uchiha clan starts pushing for them to have a baby, and although they aren’t against the idea of a child, they want to enjoy each other as husband and wife first. Maybe in a few years they will start trying, but for now they are content to have each other.

Uzumaki Naruto

Naruto is obstinate about the whole thing the second the council decides to lay the proposal before him. Even though there is sense in arranging a marriage between himself and a seal master in case something went awry with the Kyuubi, it still rubs Naruto the wrong way. He outright tells the council he will not be agreeing to anything until he meets this seal master girl himself.

Even though this girl who is supposed to be his wife is beautiful, he still has a hard time accepting that someone is being handed to him like a gift. It seems wrong and unnatural. Naruto keeps the council at bay by never outright agreeing to the engagement, and uses the time he’s gained to get to know this girl. He can’t stand the idea that she is being forced into marrying him and has to know for certain that this is something she wants, and not some duty she is being pressured into.

Naruto is forever the boisterous, loud-mouthed ball of sunshine and he is no different around his bride to be. He excitedly introduces her to his friends, making sure that she feels welcome at all times because he knows what it’s like to be unwelcome. In rare, quiet moments when he’s exhausted himself and he’s feeling unusually pensive, he will sit down next to her with his eyes downcast like he’s expecting to be laughed at or told to get lost and ask her again, “are you sure this is what you want?” When she grabs his hand and smiles warmly at him, assuring him that she’s never wanted anything more in her life, Naruto’s smile is like the dawn breaking after a stormy night, and she can’t help the way her heart gets lodged in her throat.

Naruto spends the majority of the reception in good spirits, laughing at the teasing jibes of his friends as they offer the bride condolences for her choice in a husband. It’s not until a smirking Kiba nudges him and offers him some tips on how to make his new wife moan that it hits him. You can physically see when it registers in his brain that he’s about to have sex, because all the sudden he’s flushed and a little sweaty. It’s not like he hasn’t thought of it before, but it was always a secret thought of a far-away future and it snuck up on him so quickly that he was caught off-guard.

When he gets his blushing bride home, it’s obvious that he’s nervous from the way he resolutely refuses to look at her until she turns his head with gentle hands and smiles at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.” She assures him, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. He sweeps her up in his arms and carries her to the bedroom where the two of them spend the better part of the night thoroughly enjoying figuring it out.

Naruto is a kindhearted and cheerful but dopey sort of husband, and he spends most of his time pranking his wife. She’s his favorite girl, and there is no one he’d rather spend his days hanging out with. The two of them discuss children in the blissful aftermath of their wedding, but they just kind of shrug and decide to let fate take its course. Whenever they are meant to have children, they will have children. That comes a lot sooner than either of them expected, because he totally knocked her up on their honeymoon. Oops.

[forestwater87]

Who did they think they were kidding, anyway?

(Beta’d by @raenbowsofficial​)

Summer 2017

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Gwen groaned, rolling over and pawing blindly at her phone. That was, what, her third time hitting snooze? That meant it was around 6:45, and she had fifteen minutes before breakfast.

Which . . . didn’t seem right. She sat up, double-checking the time on her phone with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Yep, 6:46 a.m., stark white letters against the New York City skyline that’d been her phone background for years.

David usually woke her up before now. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept in this late, without the gentle rap on her bedroom door and a sunny “Good morning, Gwen!” Of course, it could be a coincidence that the one morning he didn’t come to get her also happened to be the morning after he’d turned her down for sex and she’d had a major freakout. It could definitely just be unfortunate timing; hell, maybe David had overslept for once.

It was always possible, right?

And if he wasn’t in the main room of the cabin, and if his bedroom door was wide open and neatly put together and empty, then that was just another unfortunate coincidence.

Gwen wasn't very good at positive thinking, not like David. But she managed to wrestle her brain into something resembling optimism — or at least not blind, shrieking panic — as she stumbled through her morning routine, and was proud that she only felt slightly nauseous as she approached the mess hall.

David was standing by the breakfast line, overseeing the Quartermaster as he served the campers. (This was deemed necessary after he “accidentally” impaled the hand of a camper who’d been trying to steal an extra pudding cup. Poor Chucky never quite regained total mobility of his pinky.) Technically the counselors were supposed to trade off this job, but he always volunteered to take her “shifts,” because he liked the extra time to greet the campers as they came to the end of the line.

Usually she was too tired to give much of a shit about anything that was going on before her second cup of coffee, but this morning she couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on the back of the mess hall, watching as David playfully ruffled Max’s hair — easily dodging the boy’s sleep-clumsy shove — and asked Nikki about the caterpillar she was keeping in her overall bib pocket. His smile was happy and relaxed, effortless like it always seemed to be in the mornings. By the end of the day there’d be a bit more strain holding up that expression, but David was a morning person, of course. She’d hadn’t forgotten how much she missed seeing him first thing in the morning, but watching him put a hand on Space Kid’s helmet and comfort him over something QM had threatened, she was struck with a wave of homesickness so bad it felt like a weight on her chest, one that made her shoulders hunch up and her back bow. And for once that feeling wasn’t from seeing the city skyline on TV or from hearing a distant siren from town.

“Morning, Gwen.” David set her tray down in front of her — she hadn’t even thought of getting her own food, she was so used to him insisting — with a small smile that didn’t burn as brightly as the one he’d favored the campers with. “How’d you sleep?”

“Um . . . okay. Pretty well?” After curling up and crying with her teeth sank into her pillow so he wouldn’t overhear and wonder what was wrong. That kind of empty-your-insides sobbing was draining, and as awful as it seemed she actually had slept better than usual. “Overslept a little, I guess.”

She didn’t have the courage to be any more explicit than that, to come right out and ask if he was mad at her and that’s why he hadn’t gotten her up, but he nodded down at his breakfast like she’d asked anyway, twirling the gummy eggs with his fork and gnawing on his lower lip. “Of course. You must’ve been exhausted.” He swallowed, letting the eggs drip back onto the tray and coalesce back with the rest of the goo. “The first few weeks at camp are always pretty tiring, huh?”

His eyes met hers, then, and in them was that uncertain flicker Gwen had grown accustomed to lately, that waver of hope and nervousness like he was hoping she’d take the excuse he was offering and grant him some peace of mind. Just a little bit more, just to hold them together for a few more hours.

She nodded, dropping her gaze to her coffee and swirling it absently. “Yeah, it’s hard to get back into the swing of things.”

“It is!” And again Pavlov, that motherfucker, sprang to mind. Because it was just too automatic, mindless even. A reflex.

David smiled, Gwen felt better.

She felt better, she wanted him to keep smiling.

Which meant . . . lying. Lying until neither of them had the energy to buy it anymore.

But it seemed like the potency of their bullshit was starting to fade. Because that smile, the feeling better, only lasted as long as a quiet breakfast before David climbed to his feet, clapping to get the kids’ attention and beaming. “All right, kiddos! Why don’t you go brush your teeth and Gwen and I will meet you out on the activities field!”

She glanced up at him, confused. Normally they split up after breakfast so that she could watch over (and wrangle) the kids and David and QM would do dishes, but . . . “Who’s gonna take roundup duty?”

His smile didn’t falter, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he turned to her. “The Quartermaster agreed to supervise the campers so we can stay behind and clean up before morning activities. Sound good?”

It wasn’t really a question; the kids were already filing out of the mess hall, and QM had disappeared to . . . somewhere mysterious. Either way, this was clearly something they’d worked out while she was still asleep. So she picked up her tray and started to one of the other tables, snagging abandoned silverware and napkins and trying to figure out a way to avoid this conversation.

She had about five minutes to think, as they wiped down the tables and brought the dishes into the kitchen, as she scraped leftover food and campers’ experiments (and she couldn’t always tell them apart) into the trash and tried not to gag, as she joined David over the giant industrial sink and buried her hands in sickly gray-green suds and got to work. About five minutes of near-total silence, of clinking plastic and rustling clothing and not much else. In those five minutes, she failed to come up with anything to say.

But it seemed David had. "Gwen . . ." He swallowed, looking away for a second before taking a deep breath and forcing his eyes back to hers. "What'd I do wrong?"

It took her a second to recover, to swallow her surprise and meet his gaze, and it was just long enough to make every word that followed ring hollow. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Wh —”

Gwen cut herself off. Because what was the point in pretending that she had no idea where this question was coming from?

Instead she shrugged and returned to wiping out a glass with her washcloth. “Really, David, it’s nothing. It’s . . . I’m just —”

“Don’t say you’re tired,” he snapped, and it wasn’t quite angry but it was close, something anger-like but with a little wound in the center, bleeding frustration and impatience and a bone-deep weariness that felt too, too familiar. It was the same kind of pleading aching fatigue that she’d heard just over a year ago, in the words “times have changed, whether I like it or not.”

Times had changed. Whether they liked it or not.

She opened her mouth but he held up one soapy hand, bracing the other against the lip of the sink. “Please, Gwen. I . . .” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m tired of you being tired.”

Something warm and barbed coiled in her stomach, and it was better than frigid dread or acidic guilt so she grabbed onto it with hands that would be lacerated bloody. He was tired of it? How the fuck did he think she felt having to live it every goddamn day? “Listen, David, I’m trying real hard to hide it and just be ‘happy sunshine camp counselor,’ but maybe it doesn’t come so fucking easily to everyone, okay?”

“Easily?” he repeated with a look of utter disbelief. “Who ever said that anything about . . . who said any of this was easy?”

“I’m just dealing with a lot of shit,” she said, forcing herself to take a deep breath and a few steps back, wiping her hand on a rag she really hoped had always been gray. “I’ve got a lot going on —”

“Like what, Gwen?” They both froze, realizing what he’d just said at the same time, and no sooner had the words left his mouth than he was covering it, ignoring the brackish water dripping down his fingers and wrists. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like — I just —”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, and her lips felt almost too numb to form the words, but it wasn’t David’s fault. She could hardly hate him for understanding how it was with her — how little it took to leave her moody and overwhelmed and a terrible girlfriend. How “a lot of shit” sometimes consisted of a few sad thoughts that clung to her brain like spiderwebs and gummed up everything that was supposed to make her work like normal people. An idiot would’ve noticed something as obvious as how pathetic she was, and despite his other faults, David wasn’t an idiot.

David shook his head, all the anger leeching out with the tears that threatened to spill over his eyelashes. “No, Gwen, I don’t . . . of course you have plenty going on, I just . . .” His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “I want to be a part of it. I miss you. I’ve — every time we aren’t together, I miss you. And since we’ve been back, even though we are . . .”

God, he was sweet. Sweeter than she deserved, sweeter than was good for him. And even though it was the worst way to respond, even though the Audree in her head was furious and wailing, she tightened her grip on the thorns of anger and dug her nails in, asked herself if she was honestly supposed to believe that he missed being teased and complained at by a bitch like her. He might be a closet masochist, but even he had limits. What kind of misguided hero’s complex kept him trotting back to her side, when her side was full of bad manners and a hideous apartment and no friends and a miserable family, a miserable life, a miserable person?

The same hero’s complex, she realized with a sickening lurch, that kept him chasing after Max. Another joyless, caustic fuckup who didn’t know what to do with such blatant affection and who almost compulsively had to throw it back in his face. Someone with so much potential, if only he had a friend who’d believe in him. A project to nurture and feel good about at the end of the day, a success story that probably only existed in David’s head, a DIY he was still working on.

Did David see her as a project, too?

"Please." She snorted, crossing her arms and feeling the barbs shred through another layer of skin. "You just miss having someone to fuck."

"Wha — ? I . . ." His lips hardened into a thin line. "That's unfair and you know it."

They were jolted back to earth by a shrill beeping, the Camp Campbell theme song that signaled the end of the free period.

He glanced down at his phone, then at the half-finished dishes, and sighed, wiping off his hands without meeting her eyes. “It’s time for the morning activity.”

This wasn't one of their busiest days — Harrison had a magic show, which meant most of the afternoon was spent on the rough wooden benches facing the camp stage — and under normal circumstances the two of them would take the downtime as an opportunity to talk, plan for the rest of the week or mutter snarky comments (while David tried to keep her quiet and pretend he wasn't trying not to laugh), their fingers would find each other's. But he kept his face turned toward the stage and his hands in his lap, so she followed his lead and kept her mouth shut, watching Harrison unfurl a flower from between his fingers with her face blank and her mind racing.

By the time the curtain fell to lukewarm applause, the anger had completely leached out of her, and what was left was cold and sick and sad. By the time they’d sat through a dinner full of stilted small talk and playing with food neither of them were interested in eating, Gwen was pretty sure she was going to throw up the next time she opened her mouth.

By the time they’d returned to the cabin after putting the kids to bed — no stilted, pathetic attempts at small talk, not this time — she was close to a nervous breakdown. Calm down, she told herself, focusing on keeping her breaths steady and regular. This is fixable. You were a cunt, so just apologize and try harder to not be so . . . yourself all the fucking time. David’s forgiving. You’ll be fine.

Probably.

He held open the cabin door for her, as usual, but as she slipped through his fingers caught around her upper arm. “Um, Gwen?”

Her stomach clenched.

Oh god.

David cleared his throat and let her go, stepping inside and locking the cabin door behind them. “Could we . . . talk? I think we need to.”

Oh god.

She was going to be sick. If she opened her mouth she was going to throw up all over the hallway and then she’d have to spend the evening scrubbing partially-digested broccoli out of the carpet and at least that’d be better because then they wouldn’t have to have The Talk — David couldn’t possibly break up with her if she was sick, so vomiting was starting to look like a better idea by the minute . . .

“Yeah,” she said, and she wasn’t sure how she sounded so casual, like she wasn’t talking around a throat thick with acid. “Probably a good idea.”

No it wasn’t. It was an awful idea. It was the fucking worst idea she’d ever heard of.

She followed him into the cramped living room, perching on the edge of her armchair. He didn’t sit down, to her surprise; he just started pacing back and forth, rubbing at the narrow pink scars on the backs of his hands. A nervous habit.

The knot in her stomach grew just a bit tighter.

The silence stretched for almost a full minute, broke only by the light scuffing of his boots against the floor, when she cracked. “Listen, David, I was a total bitch earlier and I’m sorry, I —”

“Wait.” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. H- . . . how to say it. So please, just let me — I just need to get it out.”

She wanted to interrupt, drown whatever he was about to say in apologies because there was nothing good coming next, but his eyes popped open and focused on her just long enough to sever her vocal chords before he resumed pacing, wringing his hands and looking everywhere but at her.

“I’m . . .” His hands kept clenching into fists and releasing, like he was trying to grab the words long enough to force them out. “I’m not happy,” he finally said in a rush of breath, and it was like the tension had been sapped out of him. His shoulders slumped, relaxed, and his hands unfurled. When he turned to look at her, there was something like relief on his face. “I’m not. And — and I don’t think you are, either.” He paused, glancing at her like she hoped she would respond, confirm or deny or make still more excuses.

She didn’t. She didn’t know what she’d even say. Because she wasn’t happy, not even close. But she hadn’t been happy since graduating college, so what the fuck did it matter? And she couldn’t explain that, not to someone like David, someone who’d never understand, so she pressed her lips together and stared down at her thighs and idly wished they were smaller, more girly. As if having skinnier legs would make him want to be with her.

“This is . . . it isn’t working, and it used to. At least, I think it used to. And I don’t know what’s changed, if I did something or if you — or if maybe I was just misunderstanding things? And now . . .” David sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how you feel, about anything. Gwen, I'm trying so hard to be patient, but . . ." He shook his head, running his hands through his hair. "I mean — goodness, do you even actually like me?"

He looked up at her again, all big eyes and sincerity, and it didn’t make sense because the words coming out of his mouth were so goddamn stupid, but he was looking at her like they made sense, like he believed them. Like he thought she didn’t . . . that she could possibly . . .

He was waiting for an answer, she realized after a moment. The speech was done, and it was time to explain herself. But what was she supposed to say when she didn’t even understand what the fuck he was thinking? "That's — don't be — I —"

That's ridiculous.

Don't be crazy.

I do. Of course I do.

I like you so much I don't know what to do with myself.

"Gwen?" She snapped back to herself and realized that she had clutched the neck of her shirt and was crinkling it in one sweaty fist. Forcing her hands to relax, she avoided his eyes, because if she looked at him she'd shatter into pieces.

He wasn’t happy. David, the happiest person she’d ever met, the only man who could be tied to a spit-roast and smile, was unhappy. And she’d done that to him. All of this desperate clinging, excuses and being “tired” and half-smiles that must’ve looked as hollow and dead as she felt — it was for her benefit, and it was making him unhappy.

It was selfish, her wanting to be with him. If she had a heart she’d cut him free.

"Listen, David, I . . . like assholes. Guys who are self-involved, who make me feel like shit and who leave. That's my type." She shrugged, feeling oddly weightless. "This has been, I dunno, a fluke, an anomaly, whatever. It was bound to end sometime."

This was better. A dramatic speech, a tearful departure, maybe a little crying in the moonlight; it was downright Byronic. But most importantly, it was her leaving him. If it had to happen anyway, if the right thing to do was make it happen, she wanted it to be on her terms.

She'd been dumped by a lot of people, but she didn't think she could stand being rejected by David.

"Bound to end? I don't . . ." He moved closer, reaching out to take her hand. "Gwen, please —” oh god, his voice cracked and with it her resolve, “— just tell me what’s wrong. We can . . . can’t we talk about it?”

Goddamn it. Goddamn it, goddamn it, goddamn it. She couldn’t do this. She had to get out.

She had to say whatever it took to get out.

"I almost fucked someone else!" The words exploded out of her, totally unbidden; she covered her mouth but it was too late, they were in the air and they'd reached him, he'd heard them, she could see it in the way color bled from his face, making his freckles, usually almost invisible against his pink complexion, stand out in stark relief. And now that she'd started she couldn't stop, blurting out more and more things she'd never wanted to say. "I wasn't even that drunk, he kissed me and I let him, I thought about going home with him seriously thought about it, David! Okay? All this 'we can talk things out' bullshit? That only works with someone who — who —" Who works right in the first place .

For a second he just stared at her, frozen and white like a statue, all bloodless lips and wide eyes and hurt . "Wh . . ." He swallowed, licked his lips, looked down at his toes. "Why?"

His voice was so small. She'd never, ever heard him sound that small.

And that was painful, so she dug the knife in deeper, twisted it with everything she had as though it wasn't her own chest she was stabbing. "Because I make terrible decisions," she spat; he flinched away from her voice, wrapping his arms around his ribs like he needed a hug so badly he'd give one to himself. "It's fucking obvious! It's why I'm stuck in a job I hate, with an education that doesn't do shit for me or anybody else, and dreams that . . . that don't . . . matter." Her voice dropped, almost without her noticing. "All I do is make mistakes," she finally muttered.

Because when God was putting together all the little boys and girls of the world He must've dropped her, something was broken inside her chest, something was missing and there were monsters rattling around in that empty jagged space and everyone she'd fallen in love with left, because she could only pretend to be whole for so long before the rattling became loud enough that everyone could hear it, and no one could sleep next to that kind of racket. Even if they could, even if like David someone managed to ignore it or not hear it — the monsters brought out their claws, because it was a hell of a lot harder to avoid scratches and they wanted her all to themselves, to eat up all her insides and walk around her body.

And that all sounded good, but it was bullshit because Gwen knew there weren't any monsters inside her. She could blame God or her parents or whatever she wanted but she was the only one inside her head and she was the one who kept fucking up, and she was the one who knew David was too good for her and she went and fell for him anyway like the selfish idiot she was. Because if there was a monster it was her, and the only person being hollowed out and destroyed was him.

And there'd been a part of her that'd known that, and it hadn't stopped her.

"Oh." For a second he just looked at her, reading her face and she hated it because she didn't know what he was seeing but it couldn't be good. And she hated even more that his eyes still made her shiver, even looking at her the way he was she still preferred it to him not looking at her at all, even when she was trying to cut him free she still wanted to hold on as tight as she possibly could. "Okay, then!"

She didn't know how to respond, because his voice was taut and too bright, to the point where she glanced around to see if any of the kids had snuck into the cabin without her noticing and he was pretending everything was fine.

But it was just them, and it wasn't fine, and he wasn't pretending.

"I'm sorry," he said after another moment, still strange and cheery and broken, like she was watching a movie that'd been dubbed over badly, and nothing sounded like it came from where it should. And he wasn't smiling, his face was terrifyingly neutral but he straightened his back and squared his jaw and looked away and continued. "I didn't mean to be a mistake. I . . ." He trailed off, swallowing thickly, and now she couldn't look at him either and this was the longest they'd ever gone without eye contact and it just felt so wrong, "I'm going to go check on the campers."

Gwen wanted to leap forward and take his arm, touch his shoulder, say something because he didn't understand, but she just nodded and he left and then all she could hear was her own ragged breathing.

It wasn't fair for him to think that, not when the truth was just the opposite, and no small part of her wanted to chase him down and explain that dating him had been one of the few things she felt like she'd done right — for herself, anyway. Maybe not for him, because how could anything be right if it made him this sad?

And that was what kept her rooted to the ground, and when she eventually started walking it was what directed her toward her bedroom.

The thing was, if she told him he wasn't a mistake he might think they could still work out. Because he was too good, he didn't understand that some people weren't fixable and weren't meant to be happy and there was nothing he could do about it, but if she gave him even half a reason to hope he would try, try until his fingers were bloody and there was nothing left of his smile, and she wasn't going to let that happen.

She'd had her heart broken before and she was still here, and David was a lot more resilient than her so he'd be fine. It'd be a rough few months, he'd probably be sad for the rest of the summer but then he'd go home and next year she wouldn't be here, not even if this was the only job available and Campbell offered her a raise, because she couldn't do that to him and she definitely couldn't do it to herself. She couldn't watch him move on.

He would, of that she had no doubt. He was cute and sweet and sunny, and it was only a matter of time before someone scooped him up, some pretty girl with an easy laugh or a broad-shouldered guy who could give him hugs that'd swallow him. Someone else with the same tenacious optimism, who was so happy they made David look gloomy and short-tempered in comparison, with his favorite-colored hair, pink or green or yellow maybe, that didn't get tangled or knotted or kinked when he tried to play with it but fell through his fingers like cornsilk and reflected the light. Someone he could love effortlessly, without thinking. Someone considerate and perceptive who didn't insult him or push him away, who knew how to say they appreciated him, who never let a day go by without making sure he knew he was good, and special, and important.

Gwen wanted that for him. She wanted him to feel so loved he could drown in it.

She just didn't want to watch it happen.

[gujoonim]

The Lost Memories Part 5

“I wake up next to Jungkook, the one that I hated wholeheartedly and let’s not forget that he claims that he’s my husband”

◇ genre : angst & romance ◇ summary : when you thought your relationship with Jungkook is going better, you forgot that sometimes in life in not full with happiness. In order to get the happiness, there is a lot of challenges that you have to face. ◇ words : 5k ◇ author’s note : wow, i’m quite exhausted rn since i managed to update it within a week but since i received a lot of love from you guys its motivates me. Thanks for reading xoxo

《previous | next》

It is already been a week since you and Jungkook back from Jeju for your honeymoon trip. Even the trip was not successfully followed the plan that he had organized yet it still engraved deeply in your mind as well as your heart, the precious moment that happened during that trip even though most of the times, both of you being disturbed by Seohyun.

Talking about Seohyun, a day before you left Jeju, she appeared right in front of the hotel room, and you caught a glimpse of guilty looks on her face. The moment you opened the door, she shifted her gaze that fell on the floor towards you and began to ask her forgiveness from you and Jungkook. You and Jungkook, both do not want to make the things going longer which resulting for both of you to waste your time again, and also missed your flight back to home so you and he forgive her.

The sniff of antiseptic and chemical smell caught by your nose and within milliseconds, it flows to your lungs, diverting your mind away from delusion. The smell is quite familiar and you do enjoy this kind of smell as you already adapt to it for a long time.

You are in the hospital right now.

The hospital where Rose and Jungkook, both works here as a doctor. You are sitting on the seat that is provided for visitor or patient to wait for their turn to be called. Yet, the difference between you and the other people that sit there are, you are waiting for Rose to meet you up, for a personal reason.

Truthfully, it is been a while since your last meeting with Rose as both of you quite busy with your own life; she with her work as a doctor which is known is the busiest job compared to other, in your opinion. Meanwhile, yourself are busy with your life, catching up a lot of the forgotten memories yet to remember.

So you decided to visit her in the hospital because from what Jungkook has been telling you for the past days, she’s quite busy and does not have any chances to leave her works so that is why you are here. As your fingers wrapped around the gift’s wrapper, a gift that you bought during your honeymoon trip with Jungkook, especially for her.

A special gift that you bought and you been thinking about her when you bought it, so hopefully she will get the message that she’s been on your mind even during your honeymoon trip.

Let’s not forget about your mom, you do buy a gift, much bigger and special compared to Rose’s one. You do want to pay a visit at her but she is still on her business trip overseas, so you have to postpone your plan and you will definitely continue it once your mom safely landed back here. You miss your mom so much and the urge to see her right in front of your eyes risen day by day.

Back to the current situation, you had been informed by a nurse that Rose currently had a patient to be check on, and she will definitely meet you a few minutes from now, Apart from that, your eyes have been wandering around the hospital area, wildly looking for a familiar figure that you have been yearning to see since this morning.

Even though, you just met him this morning yet it still can’t stop the feelings of yours, to meet him, to look at his gorgeous face, to hear his soothing yet calm voice, to feel his skin against yours once you wrapped your fingers around his.

Everything about him so perfect.

These days, there is a lot of unexplained feelings that lingers around you which occurs whenever Jungkook is around you, his sudden skinship with you when he left you alone for work. The feelings of constant worries about his whereabouts, curiosity, the feels of a butterfly flying aggressively in your stomach, the pain of your heart clenching, the unease felt in your heart makes you wondered for once, why this kind of feelings keeps bothering you.

The way you look at him these days also changed. It was like a young girl who is looking at her desire toys that she’s been dreaming for a long time. The radiant look in her eyes with a glint of content, admiring and treasuring each moment together.

That is how you are looking at Jungkook who is standing right in front of you now.

Without you even notice, you are smiling from ears to ears after realizing that he is there with you. You look so stupid right now, a girl who does not see anything except her dear husband. It was like only you and him that present there with no other people interfere this moment.

You look like someone who is under a spell, a love spell to be exact.

If other people seeing your face right now, their expectation won’t be wrong because even a kid who looks at you would say the same thing.

You are madly in love with your own husband.

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” Jungkook flashed you a warm smile which seems so genuinely sweet with a touch of curiosity and once again, he managed to drown you in a sea of adoration.

“I want to meet Rose.” Lies.

The actual reason for you being here is to see him, just to catch a glimpse of him would be enough for you to stay delightful for a day and Rose being the excuse for your lies.

“I came here for you actually, I miss you even we just met this morning and you will come back this evening yet I want to meet you so much till it hurt my heart just being apart from you,” and that’s what you have been thinking since he asked you those question.

You bit your inner cheeks, preventing yourself from saying anything that makes you looks stupid in front of him.

He hummed in a response as he paints a ray of sunshine all over his face upon your reply. If only he knows the hidden reason, he may paint a galaxy instead of sunshine and luckily he is not.

“I have works to be done. See you this evening. Take care, love” As some of his colleagues called for him across crowd of people from the emergency ward, he shifted his head to them and you can see a glint of anxious splattered on his face as he keeps shifting his view from you to his colleagues, you know it’s time for him to go.

As you curled a genuine smile on your lips, flashing your teeth perfectly aligned, your body radiates soothing warmth from it hoping that he gained those waves that will strengthen and keep up his spirit.

He ruffled your hair lightly before saying his farewell to you and your gaze followed his back figure, walking away and became farther away from your place until a familiar face popped up right in front of your eyes, tear away your gaze from your beloved husband.

“It seems that honeymoon trip going so well.” Rose flashed you a grin, showing her white teeth beneath her lips before taking a seat next to you. You sense sarcasm in her tone as those words escaped from her rosy lips.

You let out a snort while rolling your eyes, “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?” Your lips escaped a laugh, a fake laugh to prevent Rose from getting suspicious of your feelings towards Jungkook right now.

At this moment, you want to keep this feeling by yourself, caused you still do not know whether you love him because you truly do rather than you simply pity him for being the one who keeps this relationship alive.

But since that trip, especially when he had confessed the scarification of his dream just to be with you and you knew that all of this feelings started. Yet, these feelings still confused yourself, what is the actual meaning of it?

“I see the sparks in your eyes when you are looking at him just now. The same sparks whenever you are looking into his eyes back then. I know that looks, the looks that you only give to him, to Jungkook.” Rose’s words notify you about your feelings, the exact feelings of your towards him.

“What does he did to you, to make you fall in love with him, again?” A smirk tugged at her lips as she nudged her right elbow against yours, waiting for your reply who seems dumbfounded about her words.

You keep your mouth shut tightly as you slightly pushed Rose aside, unwilling to answer her inquiry but due to her constant action of tugging to the hem of your right sleeve, you had to reply to her unless you are fancy of her action which you are definitely not.

You try your best to hold back a smile by twitching your lips and biting the inner cheeks. You take a deep breath as a startup before initiating the talk that might lead to a confession, “He does not do anything, he just being himself,” You trailed off as your eyes closed to each other and your mind began to reminisce all the things that made you fell in love with him again, as being told by Rose.

“By just being a passionate person he is, how he believes in me that I will regain my memories back even there is only a slight chance for me. Even I’m hurting him continuously with my behaviour yet he still treats me well and be by my side without leaving me at once. The things that touched me is when  he told me, he gave up his dreams in art just to be by my side and the moment that I knew about his scarification, it gave a great impact on my heart and I know that even if I did something else to him to repay his deed, it was nothing compared to what he did to me.”

A high-pitched sound of shriek escaped from Rose’s lips as she keeps hitting the back of your shoulder after hearing those words came out from your mouth as she can’t believe those word will come out from you after it is already been a while since she last heard that.

“This gift is for me right?” After she wiped off the tears of joy from the corner of her eyes, she takes the gift that supposed to be hers as she already saw it since the time she sits there.

You shifted your gaze on the gift that she’s been holding right now and you nodded your head slightly to reply her question. Now, all of her attention is on the gift and you can hear some words mumbles from her lips, saying about how you still managed to remember about her even your mind was preoccupied about Jungkook during that honeymoon trip.

“For the past week, I gained some of the old memories that I forgot and it is always about me and this guy, together doing some usual activities that usually couples will do.” Her gaze fell on your face from the gift, the glint of curiosity can be seen across her face and silence from her is being a sign for you to go on with your talk, cause she knows from your tone, you still had unfinished words to be said.

“But every time those memories appeared on my mind, that guy, the guy that always being with me, somehow, I can’t see his face. Each time, I tried so hard to remember his face yet it still the same, the guy with blurry face on my mind and I don’t really sure whether it is-”

Before you can even continue, Rose immediately cut your words, as she rubbed the back of your palm lightly hoping that it will soothe and calm you.

“It is him, Y/n. It has always been him.”

*

You took a deep breath as you slowly loosening your grip on the steering wheel before turning off the engine of your car. Finally, you managed to drive back from the hospital to home safely even it’s been a while since you had driven a car. It took you a lot of effort to persuade him, for allowing you to drive again.

Yet, it is not that hard to convince him since he can’t resist your coaxing towards him because, in the end, he knew that he will definitely follow all your desire.

You tilted to the passenger side, next to you to grab your handbag before stepped out from the car. At the time, you lifted your head upwards and back to your position and your fingers already wrapped along the straps of the handbag, you being the one that has a keen sight caught a glimpse of silhouette peeking at your direction from the pillar located a few cars ahead of yours.

This makes you freeze in your position in the driver’s seat as your mind initiate the thought of something bad that might happen to you if you are staying longer in the parking lot. You shrugged off all the negative thought from your mind, as you inhaling the oxygen, breathing the air around the parking lot hoping that it would make you calmer and fearless.

You stepped out your left foot, followed by your right foot in resulting in you standing side to your car. A click sounds made by your car after you pushed the lock button, vibrate it waves in the parking lot producing an echo and followed by the clacking sounds of your heels hit the floor as you tried to fasten your pace towards the elevator as fast as you can.

You can feel the hormone of adrenaline rush in every part of your body and never leave one single part as the pair of your ears catches the sounds of creeping footsteps approaching from your back.

“You can’t run away from me because I’m always watching you and never left out even a second.”

Those words were like a shield that stopped yours from walking away as you rooted on that place while slowly turning your head to the behind to look for the owner of that creepy voice. You faced no one behind you and it makes you think where the voice comes from?

In a slow pace, you tiptoed backwards as your eyes wandering wildly around the parking lot to look for someone that might look suspicious which may be the person who is scaring you right now.

In a flash, you quickly turned the whole body of yours when the back of your body bumped into something that makes you jolted backwards. A familiar figure is standing right in front of you.

When your eyes caught the face, his face, a sigh of relief escaped from your lips as you shut your eyes closed, taking a deep breath to calm yourself.

Luckily, it was Jungkook.

You quickly grasped his arms tightly, pulling him forward so both of you will be out from that scary place and protect both of you from any danger that might harm you and him afterwards. “Let’s go back home. I don’t feel right about this.” As you pull him towards you, you sense that both of you never left that place even a step which makes you use all the energy that you currently have to pull him away from there.

A strong force pulling and turning your body from backwards resulting your face to meet Jungkook’s broad and muscular chest. The collision of your face and his chest making an acute pain in your nose and you're slowly facing him by lifting your face upwards to meet his piercing gaze.

A smirk formed on his thin lips while staring deeply into your eyes as he can make a hole through your eyes before uttering some words that you heard just now, sending shivers down to your spine.

“She’s always watching you for every single time and you can’t run away from her, no more.”

The rings sound come from your phone startled you as your body jolted on the bed. Your eyes widened as it is going to pop out from the eyes socket as it totally surprises you with the sudden rings. You shifted your head towards the source of the sounds, your phone which is located on the table lamp next to the bed. Your gaze fell on the phone that continuously blinking because of the upcoming call that you are receiving right now.

You stretched out your arms towards the phone before pulling it closer to you to find out who is the caller.

It’s your mom.

Your brain began to interpret the information that receives by the receptor of your eyes so that you know that it is your mom who is calling you now. Quickly, you slide the green phone ion which indicates that you are answering the call now. Then you wake up from your bed and clearing your throat to stabilize your voice before leaning the phone against your right ears to hear the voice that you have been longing for a while.

“Hello, mom.” You were the first one to greet her first before she initiates the conversation between both of you which started of telling each other how much you missed her and vice-versa.

Your mom still on her business trip as she tells you that she will come back probably next week, the earliest if she managed to finish her work at the time. Most of the time, she will be the one that asked about your health, how you have been doing, how your relationship with Jungkook and some more. She did inform you about her want to pay a visit at your house after she landed back and you had offered to fetch her at the airport but she declined your offer instead she said that she wants to visit her friend first before going to your house.

The talk lasted for half an hour because your mom had to attend a meeting soon and she is calling you during her break. After you hear the beep sounds, you knew that she already hang up her call and you put your phone aside before escaping a sigh from your lips as you mind drifted back to the frightened moment that you felt just now.

“Luckily it was just a dream.” You still can’t let go the fact that all of the things that happened in the parking lot was just a dream. A dream which seems so real because you still can feel the touch of Jungkook’s grasp around your wrist, the creepy atmosphere at there and last but not least, those words.

A loud grunt snapped your mind back to the reality as your gaze quickly shifted to the half-opened door, revealing the little sight of your living room. The sounds of metal clicking against each other confirming your assumption that Jungkook is back.

You walked out from the room towards the living room to see whether your assumption is true or not.

A smile crept on your scarlet lips as your eyes capture a view of the back of a muscular guy who is busying himself by exercising at the mini gym located at the corner of your living room beside the entrance of the kitchen.

There he is, Jeon Jungkook, your husband.

You took a seat on the couch across of the place where he is exercising right not. You rested your chin on your palm which supported on your thigh, staring lovingly at him with a spark of amusement seen in your eyes.

Jungkook who is already aware of your presence there, quickly finishing the last count of push-up before he throws himself aside on the soft mat. He put his left arms against his eyes while grasping the air in order for his body to receive enough oxygen. Exhausting, that is what he felt now and he needs a couple of seconds to regain his energy back so that is why he is staring deeply into your eyes now.

You are a sort of an energy supplement for him. Every time he felt so tiring, exhausting but by seeing your face, all those feelings disappeared from his body as he gained more energy by just looking at you.

He knew that nowadays, you are becoming more open towards him, less awkward, attentive to him and much more. Now, you are behaving more like yourself in the past even it is not fully, just a little yet he felt so grateful and thankful to God.

Day by day as he observed, there are more positive changes in your current health even you never told him about some memories that you remembered for the past days. Rose had told him about you, and he knew the improvement of your current state. For him, it’s okay if you still do not see him in your forgotten memories because he knew your heart would never lie to you. Deep in your heart, he knew that you are loving him just like he does.

“What will I do back then whenever you are exercising like right now?” You looked at him questioningly with your eyebrow raised upwards, seeking for his answer.

“You will be exercising together with me.” He replied shortly and as he saw the look of curiosity on your face as he let out a chuckle while flashing a grin at you.

You don’t believe what he is saying so you snorted and toss your head to the side when you heard his replies. “So you don’t believe me? Come here, let me show you!”

He is waving his hand towards you as a gesture for you to come closer to him so you did what he ask. You stand up from your seat and walked to his side. He hit the soft mat for several times, motioning you to lay down on the mat.

“What’s next?” You simply asked him while narrowing your eyes to slit, to take a look at him who is sitting next to you. In a flash, without you even managed to blink your eyes, you already met his eyes in front of yours.

He is in his push-up position where both of his hand and his legs is pressed against the floor while his body still stays a few meter apart from the floor yet the difference between his current position now is you are there, replacing the floor beneath his body while both of his hands are located along the location of your head and same goes to his legs pressing the floor side by side of the pairs of your legs.

In other words, you are trapped between his body and the floor.

“This is what you have been doing whenever I’m exercising.” The blow of his breath caresses your cheeks, making you stunned in your place as you clutched your palm against each other tightly. The blood already rushed to all parts of your body especially your cheeks as you felt your cheeks heat up and probably now it is blushed with the colour of rosy pink.

His hot breath began to tickle the entire of your face, ending a shiver down to your spine. At this time of moment, the world around you seems to stop except for you and him. You know what he is thinking, what he is going to do.

He is going to kiss you for the first time in your life. Crap that! You don’t know how many times both of you had been kissing in the past but for now, it was your first time.

His gaze met yours as he slowly flickered his eyes from your eyes down to your lips and back up again.Your heart racing rapidly as it going to burst anytime soon, but in order to relax, you tried to take a deep breath but it was pointless as he leaned in, lessen the distance between his face and yours.

As he slowly tilted his head to the right angle and leaning forward until our nose finally touching, you already felt the tip of his upper lips against yours when the moment his phone ringing next to you, cutting all those romantic moments, crushing the chances of you getting a kiss from him.

You quickly run to the sofa and grabbing the remote control of the television to reduce the awkwardness because of the fail try of a kiss. Meanwhile, Jungkook himself coughed for several times to clear his throat as he steals a glance at you who is watching the television right now before answering the call.

You heard the talk between him and the caller and it seems he has some work to be done by the way he talks to the caller. After he hangs up the call, he constantly rubbing the nape of his neck while glueing his face on the floor, too shy to look at you.

“I-I need to go to the airport to fetch Seokjin hyung. He just got back and no one is available to take him so-” You cut his words, giving him a permission to fetch that Seokjin guy. He nodded his head before heading to the room, grabbing his coat to be wear and your gaze followed him from the living room to the bedroom and back again.

“By the way, Seokjin, Kim Seokjin. He is our best friend during our college times, and you knew him since you are a kid. I think you should know about that.” You hummed in a response but truthfully that’s name does not ring a bell on your head. You followed his trail towards the door and before he stepped out from the house, he leaned forward to kiss you on a cheek as a replacement for the kiss that being ruined by his phone.

“Take care.” You pushed the doorknob to close the door and you quickly cupped your cheeks to hide the redness that caused by the kiss. It leaves a big genuine smile from ears to ears on your face as you walked towards the couch at a slow pace.

“You will never be happy with something that you stole from me!”

The world around you turned into darkness once your ears catch the same voice in your dream and since then you don’t know what happened to you.

*

Jungkook’s heart dropped when his wife that he left at the home just now who seems cheerful with a shade of rosy pink on your cheeks caused by the shyness is lying on the cold floor, lifeless as your  face seems so pale and as a result he carried you to the room and carefully placed you on the bed before checking up your conditions. It turns out that you had a fever so he placed a wet cloth on your forehead in order to reduce the fever while waiting for to wake up before he could give you some medication.

So for him to kill the time alone, he decided to cook you a soup so that you can eat it before you take the medication.

The silence lingering around his house is the one that accompanied him while he is cooking. Sometimes the sounds of the utensils hitting each other will break the silence. Now, he is holding the ladle while stirring the almost cooked soup before waiting the perfect time to add some more ingredients to the soup so it will not be too bland.

The sudden touch that he felt on his waist as a pair of arms sneaked through his waist, pulling him closer while giving him a tight back hug. He tried to turn his head to face the owner of the arms but as soon he heard the voices came out from the lips, he knew it was you.

Yet, he felt there is something wrong with you right now.

“I miss you so much Jungkook, it’s been a while yet I’m missing you like crazy. I miss you to the point it hurts me so much. I miss you, baby.” The strange act of yours does confuse him added by the ‘baby’ - a nickname that you just gave to him before you forget your memories.

He grasped your wrist as he turned his body to face you, who is looking at him with your half-lid eyes and a glint of longing and yearning can be seen from your eyes. It seems like you have been apart from him a while which you are not.

“I promised to you that I won’t leave you again baby. I just miss you so much right now.” In a sudden, your hands cupping his face pulling it closer to yours before your lips met him as his eyes widened in shock of your sudden action. He senses that it was not a soft kiss that he expected from you but it is a rough kiss that full with lust as he can feel you are pushing him towards you as close as you can.

This is wrong, this is so wrong. That is what he is thinking, he tried to push you and no response to your kiss but you keep your lips glued to him like you don’t even want to let him go for a second.

He senses something fishy about you right now, this is not you. This is not Y/n that he knew. Even back then, you are not this kind of girl because Y/n that he knew is a dorky girl yet shy whenever it comes about skinship and especially kissing.

He must be right, you are not in your right mind now and he knew that there is something wrong with you but he can’t explain it with words. He just can’t, he just too shock.

[bardqueenofgallifrey]

Dr Who but each incarnation is swapped with one of their companions.

omg?? I love it??

The First Doctor: 

She’s not completely unfriendly, exactly, she just doesn’t have time for humans being idiots. In the right circumstances, she can actually be very warm. She loves history, which is lucky because her granddaughter Susan does too (they tell people Susan is her daughter, but even then it’s a bit of a stretch, human ages are weird). Of course, then two of Susan’s teachers follow her home one night, and next thing the Doctor knows she has a crotchety old history teacher and a handsome young science teacher on her spaceship with no way to get rid of them that isn’t morally questionable. 

Whoops? 

The humans help her lose some of her haughtiness. She leaves Susan in the 22nd century to become her own woman. 

Along the way and against her better judgement, she falls hopelessly for Ian Chesterton. He wants to stay with her forever, but she knows it would never work, and encourages him to go with John Foreman in the Dalek Time Machine to get back to his own time. 

Later, in other lives, she checks in on him occasionally. 

The Second Doctor:

The baby face is a problem. It takes a good twenty minutes on a lot of occasions to get anyone to take her seriously. On the bright side, a lot of Polly’s clothes fit her now. 

She finds a best friend in Scotsman Jamie McCrimmon, whose rather naive approach to futuristic technology is extremely refreshing, as is his unique insightfulness. 

After Ben and Polly leave them, they rescue Victoria, who Jamie is utterly taken with. Victoria is unsure about living a life so unsupervised by someone older and won’t listen to the Doctor’s insistence that she is in fact perfectly qualified to look after them all. 

She and Victoria spend a good many nights aboard the TARDIS talking about women’s history and the things to come for women in the future and how women act on other planets. Victoria is fascinated, occasionally horrified, and often quietly thrilled at the things she learns. 

It’s a shame to see her go, but all she ever wanted was a family and security, and the Doctor can’t provide that. 

They meet an eccentric man on a space station, with funny trousers and an obsession with the recorder. The Doctor and Jamie like him instantly, and invite him on board only to learn that the man had been considering stowing away if not invited. 

The Time Lords take her friends away from her. She is forced to regenerate and exiled to Earth, as punishment for her interference. 

The Third Doctor: 

Shrewd, passionately devoted to science, and not one to take kindly to interruptions or anyone trying to talk down to or even disagree with her, it’s a wonder the Doctor even gets hired by UNIT at all. But then again, beggars can’t be choosers. 

On the bright side, this fellow John Smith from Cambridge seems to be the one person around with an actual brain and not just a penchant for attacking first and thinking later. 

They’re friends instantly. Or, they are once she makes it perfectly clear that she is the cleverer of the two. The look on his face when he realises is a memory she’ll treasure forever. 

He eventually leaves to go back to his own research, upon realising she doesn’t need him. 

It’s a shame and she misses him, but then Jo Grant comes into her life. Despite an awful first impression, the two women are soon fiercely devoted to each other. Jo keeps going on about women having to stick together amongst all the army boys, and while the Doctor could usually not care less about gender politics, if it means Jo hangs around her more, then so be it. 

The Master turns up. It’s exhausting and exasperating and oh so much fun. 

Meanwhile, the Doctor’s told herself to not let herself fall for humans, after how much Ian hurt. But with Jo, it’s impossible not to. (Not that she hasn’t noticed the Brigadier’s lingering stares, or failed to appreciate him in his uniform. But he’s far too professional to ever do anything, and too trigger happy besides.) 

Jo is like sunshine and she’s always there and smiling and pressing herself against the Doctor out of fear or shock, until one day they’re in the supply closet of a spaceship and they’re kissing furiously instead of listening out for their pursuers. 

It’s wonderful, being with Jo. Until Clive Jones comes along, and the Doctor has to tell her to forget about her and marry the nice young man who can grow old with her and give her the life she wants. 

She drinks more champagne than she is proud of that night. 

Luckily, along comes Sarah Jane Smith, who is exactly the kind of human that the Doctor automatically adores. Inquisitive, sharp, and a vocal feminist. What a woman. 

Of course, then giant alien spiders happen, and it’s time for a change.  

The Fourth Doctor:

Or… not. Apparently, she’s doomed to be young, attractive, humanoid, and pale skinned throughout all her lives. There are worse fates, but she wouldn’t mind a little variety, frankly. And being so small is getting infuriating. 

Harry takes a long while to take her seriously, but once he does, he is steadfastly loyal. Sarah Jane takes the regeneration in stride for the most part. 

And after them, Leela, who is so strange and savage but so utterly charming in her honesty. They share a few kisses, but nothing more. 

Then comes Romana. A young Time Lord who looks older than her, is far taller than is sensible, and has an even more absurd grin. She can’t stand him, with his bragging about his grades and thinking he knows everything. 

She soon teaches him that experience wins every time. 

Of course, then he spots some pretty princess on Tara, and next thing she knows, the moment the whole Key To Time mess is sorted, Romana is now a less taller, less ridiculous, utterly beautiful Time Lady in her first regeneration. 

She tries to argue against what she can only consider body theft, or at least copying, but it is a relief to not have to crane her neck up to speak to her companion. 

Romana becomes a most dear friend. She’s missed being around someone like her, someone who understands. It makes it all the worse when she leaves, leaving the Doctor with only Adric and his incessant questions. 

The Fifth Doctor: 

There’s something about this body, a regality, that commands a little more respect than the ones before it, despite it following the pattern of her others. 

Adric’s questions exasperate her, while Tegan’s demands to be taken home are met with gentle requests for patience and promises of Heathrow airport, and this Traken prince she’s picked up is thankfully one of the most polite people she’s ever had in the TARDIS. Decent brain on him, too. 

Tegan’s smile sometimes makes her stomach do backflips. The Doctor ignores it. She’s learned her lesson. It’s almost a relief to see Tegan reach her breaking point and leave, except it isn’t, because for a long while it feels like a part of her is missing. 

Turlough is a curiosity, but a nice one who makes for surprisingly good company in the absence of the others. 

Perpugilliam Brown is a surprise. The Doctor remembers why she has tried to avoid America where possible in her travels. Americans are loud. But in the case of Peri, it involves shouting at the Master, and as such, the Doctor decides that Perpugilliam Brown can stay as long as she likes. 

Between the two of them and soon Erimem, uncrowned Pharaoh of Egypt, they make quite the team.  

The Sixth Doctor:

It’s about time! Finally, a more weathered model. Peri is surprised to say the least, and seems a little disappointed to lose out on her best friend who had until now looked a very similar age to her, but soon realises very little has changed. 

And now she lets the Doctor take care of her a bit better. Thank goodness for that! The maternal instincts in this body are absurdly strong, she has no idea what she would do if she couldn’t express them. 

Now, the borderline narcissistic but quietly lovable history professor she accidentally picks up some time after losing Peri is a trickier matter. Still, at least he shares her love for chocolate cake. 

The Seventh Doctor: 

Bright, bubbly, and able to get most people to like her within ten seconds. Now this is a regeneration she likes. Plus, her most impressive set of lungs yet. Handy, for calling companions who like to wander off. 

She tries to not encourage Ace’s use of explosives, but it’s difficult when she sees how genuinely happy they make the girl. She’s getting soft in her old age, she knows. 

Still, at least her brain makes up for it. She can out-think a computer, easily. The universe is her chessboard and she’ll do whatever the hell she pleases with it. 

The Eighth Doctor: 

She’s a jolly thing. Always keen for adventure, ready to shout at anyone who deserves it, and just wants to have a good time, really. 

After a rather rocky start involving amnesia and kissing the cardiologist who had caused her regeneration in the first place, the Doctor is just minding her own business when she accidentally messes with history. 

It seems that saving this stowaway on the R101 might not have been the best idea after all. But he’s so charming and sweet and genuine, sharing her utter passion for life, that by the time she realises her mistake, she’s not willing to part with him. 

That goes… about as well as one might expect. 

The Ninth Doctor: 

It’s funny, being a weathered old war veteran with a guilty conscience, and simultaneously looking like someone who could be on the front of a magazine. 

Life is hard, after the time war, but she meets a man with big ears and blue eyes and things get better. A lot better. It feels good to smile again. 

The addition of Captain Jack Harkness is an interesting one, but she’s always said the more the merrier. Their other companion is not quite as happy about this development, but before long they’re the best of friends. 

The Tenth Doctor: 

She’s gentler now, somehow. Oh, she has her anger and her snark, and boy does this body have a set of lungs on her. But she’s so much softer, underneath. 

Losing her friends from her last body takes its toll. She at least manages to avoid comparing Martha to them that came before her. Martha is wonderful, always completing even the most impossible tasks that the Doctor puts to her. They part on good terms, after the Master’s ravaging of the Earth. (The Master had not been so impressed with this version of her. He had trouble seeing the strength within, seeing that she was more than the duality of compassion and shouting.) Martha needs to look after her family, and that’s probably for the best. 

And then there’s the skinny idiot in the suit. He actually talks faster than she does, which is absurd, but she wonders if that’s simply because of his questionable family. Perhaps not letting them get a word in is how he survives. 

Either way, they get along like a house on fire. Losing him, wiping his memory and seeing him stare right through her and smile that stupid smile, is almost enough to break her. 

No more companions, she swears. 

The Eleventh Doctor: 

It’s all about fun, now. Impressing the little boy whose garden she crashes in and then impressing him when he’s grown up and has waited 14 years for her. (To hell with her rule about no more companions. Her old self was full of dumb ideas anyway.) 

Oh yes, she likes Rory Williams a lot. And his best friend John isn’t bad either. Mind you, that nose… 

She has her spaceship, and her boys, and life is good. Well, there’s River Song to worry about, but she can never be sure if the archaeologist is more interested in her or John. Just one more mystery, it seems. 

Losing Rory, and then John, is hard. But she knows that they’re happy, and that’s enough. 

The Twelfth Doctor:

Short, bossy, a control freak, and a slight obsession with tartan. Also, her English teacher companion is secretly a rock star wannabe, disguised as a reclusive Scottish nerd. 

What’s a girl to do? 

(Apparently, find out that her best enemy is alive, and now also female. And Scottish like her companion. The first kiss had been… shocking to say the least. The ones after, against her better judgement, decidedly less so.) 

She cares about her companion more than she will ever say, and when faced with losing him, takes things too far. Further than anyone should ever take anything. And when it is all said and done… she can’t remember his face, or his voice, or how he sounded when he mocked how large her eyes were. 

River is there to comfort her, though, in those 24 years on Darillium. 

And then Bill. Brilliant Bill. Oh yes, they make quite the team. And Nardole helps sometimes too. 

Send me an AU and I’ll expand on it!