#i also have exam this saturday and starting work next week so rip me

[one-hell-of-otaku-is-here]

do you sometimes have an urge to just scroll through fanart and other fandom content even though you still havent finished reading the book ( or original material) so you get spoiled anyway or is it just me?

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Eleven

James Potter x OC

Words: 3,6k

Prologue  Chapter One   Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven  Chapter Eight  Chapter Nine  Chapter Ten

It was a peaceful Saturday, sunny with a light breeze rushing over the Hogwarts grounds. I was sitting against the trunk of a tree close to the lake, enjoying the rays of sunshine on my skin as I lazily skimmed the pages of my Potions book with tired eyes. The end of the year exam for Potions was coming up in two weeks and there was rarely a Sixth Year seen without this book in hand, either studying during breakfast, lunch and dinner or in the library inbetween free periods and after classes. Usually I would be among them, ripping the last few good strands of my hair in stress but today I felt unbelievably lazy, feeling too heavy and tired to do anything. 'Stupid period,' I thought grumpily, tilting my head up to the sky as if the sun could help me feel better. Which it did, until-

"Oi, Cec!" Sirius called out, jogging up towards where I was sat, interrupting the peaceful silence. I briefly thought back on the last time he had interrupted something several days ago and felt myself go red once again.

"Hey Sirius, what's up?" I greeted him, closing my book. He glanced down at it, grimacing. "Potions, eh? What a waste of time."

"Don't you need it to become an Auror?" I asked him amused and he simply waved me off. "Yeah, whatever. You got some time? I wanted to show you something."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what is that exactly?"

"Just come and see?" he nudged my leg with his foot, impatiently.

"The last time you wanted me to see something, a mass of dungbombs exploded on me," I recalled, scrunching my nose. The smell wouldn't get off for a week.

Sirius burst out in laughter, "Merlin, I completely forgot about that! What a brilliant idea!"

"Sure, you call it brilliant," I muttered to myself.

"Oh come on. It was a little fun, admit it," he grinned cheekily and I simply rolled my eyes at him. "You are not really doing yourself a favour right now if you still wanted to show me something."

"Yes, right!" he snapped back to attention, clearing his throat, "I wanna show you something. In fact, it's something really cool that could be useful for you as well."

"And why would you want to show it to me?" I asked, still suspicious.

"Because you're my friend and I wanna share my joy with you?!" As much as the thought of Sirius Black calling me his friend warmed my heart, who - despite his open and social character - rarely considered anyone a friend besides his tight inner circle, I couldn't help but think what a good strategy it would be to trick me.

Sirius sighed, giving in at my silence, "And maybe I want to know your opinion on something, too."

"There is the truth," I said, grinning widely as he gave me an annoyed look. Kneeling down, he tried to widen his eyes in a puppy look, "Are you going to come now?"

I cringed, "Alright, but don't try that look on me again." I got up swiftly, brushing a few strands of grass off my skirt as Sirius sprang up as well with a fist pump in the air. "It siriusly weirded me out."

"Really? Usually it works on the ladies," he pondered before giving me devilish smile, "Don't try to deny it. It did get you to come with me."

"Sure, it did, Sirius," I said, patting his head like a dog, "Sure it did."

We headed into the castle and I prodded him with questions of where we were going the entire way up to the seventh floor but the black-haired boy wouldn't budge until we reached a deserted hallway. I could safely I had never been in this hallway before, seeing as there was nothing but a weird tapestry of a man trying to teach trolls ballet and a vase in a way too big size to be considered normal across from it. And a window.

"So...it's a hallway," I concluded slowly, watching as Sirius traipsed around back and forth, his face set deep in concentration, "You wanted to show me a hallway."

Sirius snorted, stopping his movements as the wall behind was starting to ripple. My eyes widened in astonishment as a door materialised itself where stone had previously been. "No, I wanted to show you this," Sirius replied, smirking at my comically shocked expression. He went to the door, opening it. "My lady." He bowed formally, his smirk giving space for an uptight look and I snorted but eagerly walked over and through the door, curious on what would be behind it. And my jaw promptly dropped down once more.

Inside was a small, cozy room. The walls were completely covered in shelves filled to the brim with books and the floor adorned a thick carpet in a rich burgundy colour with intricate, golden-coloured details woven in. A large fireplace was carved inbetween the shelves in the wall across the door, an inviting fire crackling in it with two, dark green armchairs and a silver side table in front of it.

"Wow," was all I could say, letting Sirius push me inside and staring open-mouthed up at the walls, "This must be heaven for all the bookworms out there."

"Yeah? I thought it would be," Sirius said, a nervous edge on his tone. It broke me out of my stupor and I immediately bombarded him with questions, "How the hell did you find this place? Is this a mini library for nerds? In that case, how come you of all people have found it? And why didn't you show me this earlier, this was a way better place to hide from all the gossiping people than the actual library," I whined at the end. Sirius held up his hands in a placating manner, "Calm down, woman. Take a seat and we shall talk about my awesomeness that made me find this place."

I took the right armchair, relishing in how I sunk a bit into the leather and briefly thought about taking a nap right then and there.

"Chocolate?" Sirius offered, having taken out a bar from his bag. I nodded, catching the half he threw my way and munching on a piece.

"So first of, this place is super duper secret," Sirius started, holding up a finger, "No one that I know of knows about this place besides you now."

"What an honor," I said and it wasn't even sarcasm.

The boy grinned, making himself more comfortable. "As to how I found this place; It was a few years ago where my mates and I had a...a little dispute and weren't on talking terms."

"You guys not talking to each other?" I rose an eyebrow, "That sounds nearly impossible."

"Right?" Sirius grinned, but I could see an underlined pain in his eyes, "However, we did have a fight but got over it." He brushed it off, taking a bite of his chocolate. I cringed, "Can't you break off the pieces like every other sane person?" He looked down at his half of the bar before toothily taking another bite. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"Very."

"Good."

"Ugh, go on."

"Yeah, so anyway. During my dispute with the mates I was very much on my own in setting up pranks and stuff. One night, when I was out after curfew, Filch's blasted cat found me. I didn't have the Invisibility Cloak with me so I had to make a run for it, because wherever the cat is, our dear caretaker is close by as well. I got into this hallway, which was obviously a dead end and whilst I was pacing around thinking about where to hide, this mysterious door suddenly appeared on the blank wall just like it had right now."

"And it brought you to this library?"

"No, it was just a bathroom since I also had to pee very badly." I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, looking around the room. "How-"

"How is that possible, you ask? Well dear, I was wondering that, too because as soon as I got back out, the door disappeard and I couldn't get back in. So the next day, after I successfully escaped Filch and his cat, I went to this hallway and stood in front of this particular blank wall once more, trying to get back into the bathroom. Only, it wouldn't work. I tried everything, recalling every step I made that made the door appear, thinking I need to find this secret place and boom! The door appeared again!" he threw his arms up in emphasis and I would have laughed at his dramatic antics if I hadn't been so intrigued. No one could say Sirius wasn't a good storyteller. "But, it wasn't the bathroom I had seen last time. It was a much bigger room with millions of things scattered and piled up everywhere."

"What?" I asked, flabbergasted, "The room changed?!"

"The room changed!" he exclaimed, pointing a finger at me with a proud look, "It's a wish room! A room that can transfigure itself in whatever you need it to be." I dropped back against the chair in shock. "That...is...bloody brilliant!" I breathed out, staring once more around the room in amazment.

"It bloody is, right?" Sirius agreed giddily.

"So, if I wanted a place to hide-"

"You get your personal hiding place."

"And if I want a Quidditch field to practice on whilst the other teams are occupying the field outside-"

"You get your personal Quidditch field."

"And if I wanted my own sleeping space to get away from my snoring roommates-"

"You get your own sleeping space to get away from your snoring roomates, when you tell me who it is!"

"This is bloody awesome, Sirius! And no, I won't tell you!"

"Fine, but yes! It bloody is!" I laughed in excitement, thinking about all the great things that this room could be used for. "How come no one knows about this place? James would use it everyday for practicing Quidditch if he knew about it!" My face fell in thought, "Perhaps we shouldn't tell him then. He would train us dead."

Sirius' face also morphed into a somber look. "Yeah, I don't really want him to know or anyone else." I looked him over in surprise, "How come you haven't told him or the others about it? I thought you told each other everything?"

The boy sighed heavily, running a hand through his lucious black hair as he stared into the fire, "I told you, we had a dispute when I discovered the place. I always came here when I needed a bit time for myself to reflect on everything...it was kind of my safe space and also a good sleeping place when the dorm got too suffocating." I bit my lip, seeing the sad expression on his face and wondered just what had been so bad to cause such a bad fight between them. "I always planned to tell them if we were to ever become close again and when we did, it kind of slipped my mind with all the other things that came up. It happened around Fifth Year." I nodded, musing that he probably meant the time he ran away from home. Sirius sighed heavily, "So far, I haven't told them yet because I still sometimes use it as my safe space."

"That's good. You don't need to tell them everything because you are best friends," I said when he almost looked guilty at the prospect of hiding this from his mates.

He looked at me with an almost desperate expression, "Will you not tell anyone about this, please? I don't know how many can occupy this place at the same time since I couldn't test it out yet. And if the mates find out they will know to always look here. And sometimes, I just wanna be alone. You know, when I have to think about stuff they wouldn't understand..."

"It's okay, Sirius," I cut him off with a light laugh and he stared at me with an almost pout, "I won't tell anyone. Of course, I won't if you don't want me to."

He deflated with a relieved sigh before his toothy grin came back up, "I knew I could trust you!" I felt myself go red a bit at this, feeling warmth that he would trust me enough with something he wouldn't even tell his best friends. Come to think of it...

"But why would you tell me about this place anyways?" I wondered, "If you haven't even told James about it...?"

Sirius nodded. "I know, it's confusing. It's just that they - especially James - don't really understand the concept of personal space." I coughed to cover up a laugh, knowing full well what he meant. "I mean, Remus and Peter would actually leave me to myself if I were to ask them but James? Oof, James would immediately cling onto you and ask you what's wrong until you give in."

"I can imagine that all too well," I agreed.

"Right. And don't get me wrong, I love that and I myself am like that, too sometimes."

"Probably all the time."

"Shut it. So, that's why I'm still a bit reluctant to tell them. You, however, know when to drop a topic I don't wanna talk about. You give me the space that I sometimes need from a friend," he stated, growing more serious, "...and you know a lot more about me and a certain brother of mine than the others do." It dawned on me where this conversation was going and my eyes flickered over all the books once more. "I can't really tell the others about Regulus anymore. Ever since I've run away, the others think that the chapter with my family is forever closed and done with. That I'm done with my family. James especially holds quite a grudge against Reggie ever since I told them he said I wasn't his brother anymore. He is determined to fill up that space," Sirius chuckled to himself, "I love that guy." I resisted the urge to scream 'Me, too!'. His smile faded. "I can't give up on Reggie though. Never Reggie. I could never leave him behind, even if I kind of did...," he trailed off, his eyes glassed over as if he were somewhere else with his mind.

"You are trying to rekindle your relationship with him," I decided to speak up when his expression got too pained, assuming he was reliving a bad memory. He broke out of it, shaking his head slightly.

"I am, yes. And this is why we are here." Sirius gestured around the room, "This is my 104th attempt at becoming close to my little brother again. What do you think?"

"You gonna show him this place?"

"Yeah. I figured if we were to spend some time here, undisturbed and away from all the eyes that are preventing Reg from talking to me, we would eventually become close again. And maybe - just maybe - I can finally get him out of our blasted childhood place."

"Well..., I believe this is the perfect place for a bookworm for sure."

Sirius smiled widely, "Then Reggie is going to love it!"

I smiled back at him, "I think, he would love it even if this room turned into that bathroom that you had seen during your first time here." Sirius barked a laugh, "He would be so confused!"

"You might wanna add some snacks though when you meet up with him here. And some tea," I mused, "To make sure you don't get too hungry and have to cut it short."

"Ah, yeah I will have to get that from the kitchen. The room can't produce food." I pouted, "That's too bad." Sirius grinned before it softened into an uncertain smile, "And you really think he is going to like it?"

"With the amount of times we have stalked him in the library compared to any other place, we can safely assume that he feels very comfortable around books at least."

"We weren't stalking! Stop calling it like that!" Sirius complained, cringing. I snickered into my piece of chocolate. The boy relaxed into his seat, shooting me another smile, "Thanks for your help, Cec. I really appreciate it."

I gulped down the chocolate, leaning back against the armchair as well, "You are very welcome, Sirius. When are you going to show him this place?"

Sirius shrugged, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. "Maybe tonight."

I gave him a sympathetic smile. "Good luck. I'm sure it will go well."

"Has anybody seen Padfoot anywhere?" James asked later that night as we lounged around the fireplace in our common room. I smiled a little when everyone declined.

It was the next Friday when the last Quidditch game of the year rolled up: Slythering vs. Hufflepuff. Nearly everyone was there, the last game being the most popular of all since it would determine, who would become first place (either Slytherin or Gryffindor) and who would win third place (Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw). I watched the teams come out of the locker rooms, James booing loudly whilst the members in green were announced by the commentator. I noticed he was especially loud during the announcement of 'Regulus Black' and I nudged him a little. "BOOOO-uff!" Alright, maybe a little hard.

"Sorry, love," I said, rubbing his side soothingly as he complained noisily, "Someone bumped into me."

"S'alright," he mumbled with a pout, pulling me closer and glaring over my shoulder at the non-existent culprit. I shot a wink at Sirius, who was stood next to James, and he smiled gratefully.

"And the game begins! Mulciber has the Quaffle and immediately shoots towards to opponent's goals-!" The game continued with Quaffles and Bludgers being thrown/beaten back and forth between the teams. I watched with rampant attention as the goal difference never seemed to get too high, occasionally glancing at the Seekers to see if they had caught sight of the Snitch. Catching it seemed to be the only way to determine the winner.

"It's to 280 to 270 for Slytherin, ladies and gentlemen, and neither side is showing any sign of fatigue. It's a game of win and lose, of life and death- AND BLACK HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH!" All eyes snapped towards the small seeker zooming towards the ground near the Hufflepuff's goals, a mere blurred image of green and brown as he flew down in a breakneck speed. I noticed everyone lean forward over the railing to see the exact moment he caught the Snitch, the Hufflepuff seeker being one second too late. "AND BLACK HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS THE GAME AND THE CUP! OH MY MERLIN!"

The Slytherin stand broke out in an uproar, shooting green and silver lights into the sky as the teams touched down, the green-cladded members jumping on Regulus, who was holding up the Snitch clenched in his fist with a blinding smile. I noticed Sirius biting his lip hard to prevent a wide grin as his grey eyes twinkled with pride whilst James groaned in disappointment but proceeded to clap along with everyone else, knowing they had won fair and square. "Gonna bloody win against them next year," I heard him grumble under his breath and I squeezed his arm with mine as I clapped along, "Definitely." He smiled at me before his eyes flickered towards something over my head. I looked back forwards, sneaking a glance to my side to see Lily and Alice next to Marlene, who was next to me, a pair of green eyes looking in our direction.

My chest constricted once more.

"I'm going to have to schedule more practices," James spoke as we walked back up to the castle after the game, neither of us wanting to stay and see the Slytherins celebrate, no matter how well deserved it was. "Maybe I can even get everyone to train on their own during the summer holidays."

"That's a bit excessive, don't you think?" I remarked, arm hooked around his. All I wanted to do during the holidays was laze around before the N.E.W.T.s came up next year.

"What, you think the Slytherin captain doesn't force his team to?" James pointed out, "And it obviously worked. This way we don't need to get back into the routine after the holidays and can improve our teamwork faster rather than having to train our individual skills back into shape."

"But James, this is our last summer holiday ever. Next year will be our last year in Hogwarts," I pointed out.

"Next year will also be our last chance to impress any recruits that will be there during the last games," James replied and I thought back on the few foreign adults that had occupied some seats in the teacher's stands during this game. The messy-haired grabbed me by the waist, twirling me around as I squealed in surprise. "Think about it, getting recruited by the Chudley Cannons-"

"Montrose Magpies."

"-and becoming the best Chaser and Seeker the Chudley Cannons-"

"Montrose Magpies."

"-ever had in history." He led me down with grin, still holding onto my waist, "We would be the dreamteam." I gazed into his brown eyes that almost had a mahogany hue to it in the current light of the sunset. "Yeah, we probably would..."

"Definitely would!" he exclaimed and I wrapped my arms around his, burying my face in his chest as an uncontrollable smile almost made my cheeks hurt.

I was definitely whipped for this boy. Irrevocably.

Next Chapter

[theasstour]

𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 | 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟑.𝟒𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

A/N: Thank you to the lovelies who nominated Strange Tides, Baby Blue, and moi for the 1D Craft Awards 🌊🐚 If you have the time and feel like spreading some love, go vote for your fave fics and authors here ✨ ENJOYYY CHAPTER 5! x

Tuesday, 7 July

“I’d say you’re doing quite alright for someone who has just gotten into knitting,” Bessie said, looking at Y/N’s creation over the rim of her glasses. “What technique did your mother teach you again, sweets? ‘Cause you’re a natural.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Y/N answered honestly, taking her blue square back. “Are there different types of knitting styles?”

Bessie’s laugh was warm and joyous, looking out at Camila, Florence, and Barb, who smiled at Y/N. Though Y/N had been scared of being judged by these women for not knowing how to properly knit at first, there was nothing but kindness and appreciation in their eyes. It seemed they really were just happy to see the beginning of Y/N’s knitting journey. They had all been beyond helpful, taking their time and being patient with her as she learned the ins and outs of knitting. She was still not sure what she was making, but she was knitting a bunch of squares to start off, and she would see where to go from there.

“So,” Florence said, turning her attention back on the knitting in front of her. “What do you think of St Ives thus far, Y/N? Is it living up to your expectations?”

“You’ve been here a month now,” Bessie said, shaking her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. And Y/N couldn’t believe it herself. Time had flown by so incredibly fast it did not seem quite real. It seemed like only yesterday she had checked in here and met Bessie, or when she ran into Harry and started their little thing. It just did not seem real that time had gone by this fast. In a month’s time, summer would almost be over and she would have to start thinking about checking out and finding out what to do next. Going back home to Winchester was out of the question, but she didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

Y/N took a deep breath, telling herself not to think about that now. Debating what to do after she checked out of The Roaming Crab Inn could be done at another time, not while she was knitting with four lovely ladies. For someone who had lived her whole life with a plan laid out for her near and far future, Y/N was awfully relaxed about the prospect of the chapter of her life that would start once she left St Ives in August.

“I love it here,” she answered truthfully, finding some red yarn so she could start knitting a red square. “I’ve met so many people while staying here, it’s been amazing.”

“It’s been fun to meet Harry’s family as well,” Barb said. “If your name comes up in conversation when we’re at the chess club, Jessa won’t shut up. She’s so proud Harry’s dating such a lovely lady.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up, both because she took pride in that compliment but also because she knew Jessa wouldn’t think of her like that when she and Harry “broke up” later.

“Speaking of people you’ve met, my son tells me you went to the pub with him, Harry, and their little group.” Florence looked at Y/N, smiling. “Did he invite you to his birthday this Saturday?”

“Yeah, Harry told me we were invited,” Y/N said.

“Dax and Harry have been close ever since Harry came to St Ives. He even slept at the lighthouse for close to a month after Harry’s father got lost at sea.”

Y/N stopped knitting. When she looked over at Florence again, the older woman was already knitting so she didn’t notice Y/N’s sudden interest. She looked over at Bessie who only gave Y/N a nod as to confirm what Florence had just said, and in that second Y/N was very happy Bessie knew her and Harry’s relationship was only pretend.

“The day they found the empty boat was absolutely horrible. All of St Ives in mourning. Remember it like it was yesterday,” Camila went on, sighing dramatically. “Devastating time.”

“Let’s not talk about that,” Bessie chimed in. “It is such a sad time to reminisce about.”

“Yes, no reason we should think about such things,” Barb went on. “I’m sure it’s a touchy subject for Y/N as well, seeing as Harry is so close to her.”

Y/N focused entirely on her knitting, not really wanting to say anything in regards to Harry’s dad. She knew he died, but she hadn’t really questioned how that happened. For some reason, Y/N had assumed he had been sick, but knowing something happened to Harry’s dad while he was at sea… she didn’t know how to feel. Was it worse to have a loved one be sick and know the end was inevitable and close, or to have them ripped suddenly and unexpectedly out of your life?

“I’m sorry for bringing the mood down, girls,” Florence said, letting a bright laugh escape her lips. “Maybe we need some tea to brighten up our mood some?”

“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Bessie said, getting up from her seat. “Y/N, dear, would you give me a helping hand?”

“Of course.”

Y/N got up and followed Bessie inside to the kitchen, the three others chattering away as the two started making a new batch black tea. Bessie busied herself with finding some mugs, her sugar, and milk, as Y/N just stood beside the kettle and waited for it to finish boiling. With her arms crossed, her mind wandered off to all those times Harry mentioned his dad and his death, not once had he mentioned he was sick, so Y/N didn’t know where she had gotten that idea from. She knew it was not something she should be speculating or thinking about, but right then, she could not help herself.

Instead of thinking about something so tragic, she forced herself to think about Dax’s birthday party the coming weekend. Harry had only mentioned it in passing yesterday, but Y/N was already looking forward to it. There wasn’t much else she did now anyway besides knit, read for the UCAT, and lie about being in a relationship. Throwing some partying into that mix seemed like a bit of fun.

Saturday, 11 July

“I’m about to do it,” Y/N said, eyes on her laptop screen in front of her. Her white summer dress blew a little in the wind from the open window beside her, but the breeze was welcomed, as it always was in Cornwall.

Harry looked up from where he was going through some bills on his couch, wearing his red knitted jumper along with a pair of short dungaree shorts. Y/N was sat on the other side of his tiny house in the windowsill beside his bed. It was big enough to fit her, her books, and laptop, it was kind of her spot now.

“I’m really about to do it,” Y/N repeated, more for her own sake than for Harry’s - who was a little confused and sat with his mouth open, waiting for her to elaborate – because she simply could not believe she was doing this.

“What?” Harry asked after a while, and when Y/N met his eyes, he blinked a few times as if readying himself for whatever she was about to say.

“Apply for the UCAT exam.”

Last week, Y/N had taken Harry up on his offer to study for her UCAT exam at his place. She came over Friday, and upon seeing her walking up to his house around 8:30, Harry walked toward her on the gravel path. She didn’t know why, but she liked that he did that instead of just standing stoic and just watching her. It made her almost feel urgently desired at his house when he did that.

“Hi,” Y/N greeted as they fell into step beside one another. “Report time?”

“Yeah, just walking around and checking everything.”

She smiled. “And so you walked over here to check on me?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Y/N wanted to laugh, but Harry was looking at the gravel in front of him, lips sucked into his mouth as if telling himself to shut up. He walked her all the way into his house, telling her to make herself feel at home. She sat down by the round table and placed her books out before her, sighing a little to herself as she opened the first one to the page she’d left off on last time. Before going about his day of lightkeeper chores, he made her a cup of tea and told her to help herself to anything in the fridge. He left in a hurry to report, and Y/N didn’t see much of him till two hours later, when he came inside to look through some paperwork.

The rest of the week, she’d popped by almost every single day and then stayed for hours on end. Though she’d mostly been studying, she had also stayed a little longer just to hang out with Harry. She felt safe on Clodgy Point, with Harry, who, once she got him talking about something he found interesting, would talk someone’s ear off. It was so nice to hang out with someone her own age. Someone who would curse and who didn’t need to gossip all the time. There was something so relaxing about Harry’s presence and his little bungalow that attracted Y/N. She simply could not study in her own room anymore, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. He’d meet her on the gravel path and walk her to his house before he went off to report, every single day without fail. She always looked forward to seeing him there, a sight that made the moors around her seem less turbulent and the world a little more colourful.

Though she sat by the door the first two days, she ended up in the windowsill after a while. When Harry caught her there, he asked if her bum wouldn’t get numb from sitting there all day, to which Y/N jokingly said not to worry, she could just bring a cushion next time, though she always forgot. She didn’t mind though; she liked that windowsill so much that her sore arse didn’t bother her. It also seemed Harry liked that his windowsill was being used, because at one point, he brought his Super 8 camera out, taping her doing her work in the windowsill.

On Monday, something happened that took Y/N’s breath away. Harry walked into the house, zipping his mouth shut when their eyes met as if to tell her he didn’t intend on interrupting her. He made himself something to eat for lunch and sat by the round kitchen table, minding his own business and looking out of the window beside him every now and again for some sort of entertainment. Once he was done eating, he washed his plate up and then, instead of walking back out to work, he walked over to his piano. Y/N immediately sat up a bit straighter, resting her hands on her bent knee as she watched Harry open the piano chair, pull a notebook out, and then sit down once he closed it.

Harry’s hands hovered over the keys before he slowly started pressing down on them, producing the softest melody Y/N thought she might have ever heard. He moved along with the piece, feeling the rhythmic waves take over his body and guide him through the history that melody held. It was clear Harry had some sort of attachment to that piece. Y/N didn’t know how carefully musicians played, how much attention and care they gave to each of the pieces they performed, but there was something graceful and almost intimate about watching Harry perform that piece. Y/N simply could not put her finger on it, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

Once he was done playing that specific melody, about to start the next one, Y/N opened her mouth, “What’s that piece called?”

Harry looked at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows some as if he hadn’t heard her right.

“Is it well-known?”

“No, uhm…” He furrowed his brows some, looking at the dresser stood beside the piano where a few photos were placed. “I wrote it myself?”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it’s a few years old.”

Y/N couldn’t help her smile. “Does the piece have a title?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Saving Grace,” he explained. “It’s got a dual meaning.”

“Which is?”

“Well, I was 20 when Grace was born. Until then I hadn’t really been around babies, so it took some getting used to when Grace was around most of the time. It had only been my dad and me for a long time, then Jessa came into our lives, which ultimately brought Gracie.” Harry looked out the window Y/N sat in. “It had been a very… content life till then. Nothing spectacular, Dad and I really did love each other and were best friends since before Mum left us when I was 6. But…” He trailed off. “But then came Jessa and Grace, and they truly changed all that. They made us so happy.”

A warmness that was not due to the hot temperature outside, made its way like a wave down Y/N’s body.

“Grace became my little person, you know? Though I worked at St Ives Bakery and had friends, I still didn’t know what I wanted to really do with my life. I was about to apply to study music at uni, but… I dunno, I just didn’t. Grace became my purpose for a little while. I earned money so I could take her places and buy her ice cream, or I taught her how to walk, talk, and we did everything together.” Harry turned back to the piano, playing the first few notes slowly. “This melody came to me when I watched her walk without trouble around the moors outside, she was looking at flowers and she was so happy. The melody tries to capture that moment and how perfect that day was.” He stopped, glancing at the sheet in front of him. “She was two years old.”

“So, essentially, you try to capture feelings and moments in your music?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any other pieces?”

Harry chuckled, looking over his shoulder at her. “You know, the reason I started playing was to help you concentrate. Piano music is great for that.”

“Sod my work, I want to know more about your music.”

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, turning his body in her direction now. “I’ve never heard you say that word before! Never heard you speak like that!”

Y/N laughed, but persuaded Harry to play a few of his other pieces before he went back to work.

That Saturday when Y/N brought up the exam, Harry hadn’t played any piano. He sometimes would, both to calm himself down, but also to help Y/N concentrate. She would sometimes take breaks just to listen to him, but his playing really did help her focus. Harry was doing some of his work in the house that Saturday, probably to keep her company, but she was very happy he was there. She needed someone to talk this through with.

There was an instant pull to the edges of Harry’s lips, something that he didn’t have to think about, it was instinctive and genuine. A slight breath left his mouth, almost like something of a chuckle, a relief of sorts that made her all hot. He smiled and got up from the couch, a reason for his movements as if he moved a little easier now that he’d just heard that.

“Are you really?” he asked, taking his tea mug and nodding at Y/N’s beside her. She picked it up and handed it to him.

“I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, and I feel like it’s stupid to study for an exam if I’m never going to take it.”

“That makes sense, yeah.”

“So, I’m just gonna do it now.”

Harry put their mugs down, filling up the kettle before making another round. Y/N liked that he just assumed she wanted another cuppa. She liked the fact he made her this hot beverage that took a long time for someone to drink up. That he made her several a day. She really liked that.

“I’m thinking, you’ve been reading for weeks and you clearly know the material, you might as well,” Harry said.

“There’s just… I dunno…”

“What?”

“No.”

Harry was quiet, so when Y/N looked at him, he was already looking at her, waiting for her to continue. Both knew she wouldn’t hold back once she’d already started saying something.

“I’m scared I won’t show up.”

Harry frowned. “Why? That something is gonna come up?”

“No, that I’ll just oversleep on purpose or find any possible solution so I won’t have to go. Maybe my brain will refuse to revise the entire week before it, I tended to do that in school. When I have an opportunity to, I make things hard for myself.”

Harry plopped two sugars into her cuppa. “I won’t let that happen.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “How, you’re gonna carry me out of my room and to your van, then drive me to the exam?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

She laughed, looking back at the laptop in front of her as Harry walked over, putting the tea down beside her.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I think you should just do it.”

“I know I should, but… once I sign up, it’s all happening. It’s not just something I’m thinking about doing, it’s actually happening and there’s a date I gotta work toward.” She sighed. “It’s not just a dream anymore.”

“It stopped being ‘just a dream’ the second you bought those books,” Harry said, sipping his tea as Y/N looked up at him where he stood beside her. “When you started reading, you knew what you were doing and yet you did it anyway.”

She studied him for a second, meeting his eyes the second before she turned back to the laptop. “Guess you’re right.”

“I’m right.”

She flung her arm out, hitting him just across his knee. “Cocky.”

“No,” Harry giggled. “I’m correct. You should try being it sometime.”

“Tone it down!”

Harry laughed, walking back over to his paperwork again. He sat working for a bit longer, finishing his tea before he put everything back in the folder and walked back out of the house and to the lighthouse. When the front door slammed shut, it was like Y/N was slapped out of a sort of trance. She had just been looking at the UCAT website, mouse hovering over the ‘Register and Book’ button, mind somewhere else completely. She remembered what Harry said, how registering and taking this exam wouldn’t make this dream of hers reality all of a sudden, she had done that herself when she started deliberately revising for the UCAT.

She clicked the button and made herself a new user on the website. Reading through everything carefully, Y/N felt her heart picking up speed. It was dawning on her that she was really doing this, despite everything, she was finally registering to take the test. The next few minutes as she took all of this in, she completely forgot where she was. All she knew was the information being fed to her. The wind, the sun, the fly flying around her head, nor whatever Harry was doing was any of her concern. She focused entirely on registering and booking a date. A fee of £75 had to be paid, and though Y/N would never have thought about paying that kind of money before, she hesitated now.

She didn’t have a job, her parents weren’t providing for her anymore because… well, she wasn’t talking to them, so she only had the money on her one card left. Though she was sure she could afford the test fee, there would come a time when she couldn’t. Money had never been a problem until now. This hadn’t been something she thought about before, it hadn’t been a problem then because her parents were filthy rich, but she recognised this now. However, this test had been on her mind for years and it was something she really wanted to do, so spending money on it wasn’t something she needed to feel guilty about. Y/N paid the fee and sat there staring at her screen as a ‘Thanks for your booking’ popped up on her screen. Her test was September 10th. That was in two months. In two months she would be taking the UCAT.

She got up from the windowsill, shaking her clammy hands to dry them some, a shaky breath leaving her parted lips as her heart galloped inside her chest. It didn’t feel real. None of it felt real. She was doing the UCAT exam. This was her first big step into dentistry. She was actually doing what she had been dreaming of doing for years now.

She had no idea what made her do it but she walked out of the house, instinctively walking towards the lighthouse. Harry was already halfway to the cottage from the lighthouse, halting a little at Y/N’s abrupt exit. She stopped when she saw him.

“I did it.”

Those three words took a few seconds for Harry to comprehend, but when he did, he gave her the biggest grin she’d ever seen on his face. His eyes completely disappeared behind his cheekbones, crinkles appearing beside them, and his crooked smile was accompanied with his brilliant dimples that breathed light and meaning into every situation they were present in. The sight of it made her own appear and she put a hand over her chest, feeling her heart still going hard against her ribcage. Harry must have not thought a lot of it, because he nearly opened his arms, but they quickly fell to his side. Next, he went to give her a high five, but that almost seemed inappropriate because it was such a huge moment to Y/N.

But Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about the way Harry had opened his arms for her just now. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he wanted her close like that to congratulate her on what she’d just done. And, the part of her that hadn’t really experienced someone’s noticeable pride in her like this before, wouldn’t mind at all. That’s why she ran towards him, and the two seconds Harry had to prepare, Y/N both saw the visible shock at her sprinting for him, but also a sort of jubilation like it was an honour. Y/N threw her arms around him and Harry quickly wrapped her in his, a breath of relief skimming her neck and making goosebumps run through her entire body. She laughed as Harry picked her off the ground, groaning in triumph at the news of her finally having signed up for the UCAT.

She leaned her head against his, smelling that same perfume on him that she remembered smelling when she wore his knitted jumper a few weeks ago. Her theory had also been right: Harry was an amazing hugger. His grip was tight and she was sure he closed his eyes, really immersing himself completely in the person he was embracing. Fingers spread out across her back, the tips of one just touching her shoulder blade and the other on her waist, squeezing her slightly for a few seconds before letting her down again.

“That’s amazing, Y/N,” Harry said, and Y/N tightened her grip.

When they finally let go of one another, Harry ran inside and came back some seconds later holding his camera, said he needed to document this. Y/N did a few poses that made Harry laugh, then proceeding to run out into the field beyond the lighthouse. She felt absolutely ecstatic as she ran around, grinning and jumping, her arms held up high and her heart soaring. After all this time, she was finally pursuing this. If she was able to do something that terrified and excited her like this, then what else could she do? Part of her felt like she could do anything now.

Porthgwidden Beach was like Harry described it: small. Once Harry and Y/N arrived at the tiny car park above the beach, Y/N stopped for a moment to take in the beach that wasn’t even a fraction of what the other two major beaches of St Ives were. Some Tiësto song was playing somewhere and the beach was crowded, all guests of Dax’s birthday party. The Porthgwidden Beach Café seemed to have been booked for the occasion as well, people around their age all sitting grouped around the table with their bottles and cups. No one seemed to be going crazy on their alcohol, which reassured Y/N some because it had been a while since she had been drunk, a glass or two of anything would make her very lightheaded and giggly. She had brought with her a bottle of wine in her tote bag, Harry seemed to be relying on his mates having brought drinks. If not, Y/N wouldn’t mind sharing the rest of hers with him.

Y/N had left Harry’s place not long after she signed up for the UCAT so she could get ready for Dax’s birthday party in her own room. She wore a dark green column midi skirt along with a white tee shirt and some short heels that she regretted wearing the second her and Harry stepped out into the sand. He looked over his shoulder at her once he noticed her struggling a bit, offering his hand for her to hold so she could take her heels off. While she did that, she took the liberty to study him again. His outfit was simple, yet effortlessly hot. High waisted mid wash denim jeans, a baggy black tee shirt tucked into them, along with some white socks and black Converse. Y/N had a theory Harry would end up taking his own shoes off by the end of the night too.

The two had met on Island Street where they knew none of the other partygoers would venture. That way, people would’ve seen them walk together all the way to the party, assuming they must’ve spent time at Harry’s place before coming here. They had discussed this plan over a last cuppa tea before Y/N left earlier that day, Harry had seemed very happy with himself for coming up with that one. And as they stood there, Y/N holding his hand while taking her shoes off, they heard some loud whistles followed by a “There they are!”

Looking over, they saw the birthday boy making his way over, arms spread wide and the biggest grin on his face. “My boyo!”

“Dax, not now-“

But the man didn’t listen. He hugged Harry to him, causing Harry to take a few steps, resulting in Y/N losing her balance. With a squeal, Y/N almost fell face first into the sand again, but Harry was fast to bring one hand under her armpit and the other to her hip. He dragged her toward him, her torso flat against his. She saw Harry’s eyes on her face in her peripheral vision, felt his breath on her cheek.

“Oi!” Dax laughed. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Got a bit carried away seeing this hunk.” Dax put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, causing Harry to jump right out of his trance and let go of Y/N, as if couples didn’t normally embrace each other like this without hesitation.

“Happy birthday, Dax,” Y/N smiled before picking up her shoe, shoving the pair into her tote bag along with her cardigan and Harry’s red knitted jumper.

“Happy birthday, mate,” Harry said.

“You know, I expected you to be the first one here.” Dax crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at Harry.

Harry furrowed his brows at Dax. “What do you mean?”

“Well, isn’t your best friend’s birthday important to you?”

Harry was quiet for a second. “Oh, my word, Dax.”

“I’m just a joke to you.”

“You sure are.”

“Look who it is!” Ellie called, grinning as her and the rest of Harry’s little gang made their way over. “You made it!”

“We were starting to think you two wouldn’t come,” Amir said, his hair in the most effortlessly pretty bun at the top of his head. “Too busy?” Amir wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re too caught up in people’s sex lives for it to be normal, mate,” Harry said, taking the cup Fatima offered him. “Cheers.”

Something about Harry referring to him and Y/N’s sex life made Y/N’s cheeks feel awfully hot. Even though their joined sex life was non-existent, it still got to her. Maybe it was the way Harry always dodged those questions so the two wouldn’t have to answer any awkward queries they had absolutely no idea about. She didn’t know, but she rummaged through her bag so people wouldn’t see how flustered she suddenly got.

“Just trying to make conversation,” Amir said.

“Well, don’t,” Jo chimed in, their smile mocking and Amir only huffed in response.

“By the way!” Dax exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re going Terraland next week, you coming this year, Y/N?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in question. “What’s Terraland?”

“Theme park in Helston, we go every year towards the end of the summer vacation,” Jo explained. “Harry here-“ They gestured at the man standing beside Y/N. “-Doesn’t like Terraland.”

“I do,” Harry protested. “I like laying by the pool and not doing shit. I don’t particularly like it when you force me on rollercoasters.”

Y/N smiled. “I’ll come if Harry decides to.”

“Brill! All of us are coming, maybe a few others,” Amir said.

“So, it’s like an adventure park with rollercoasters and such?” Y/N asked

“That and pools, very much the kind of thing you visit when you’re on vacation in, like, Spain,” Harry explained. “But it’s in Cornwall.”

“Good for a group of grown up kids, ey?” Dax grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Come, Y/N, babe.” Ellie linked her arm with Y/N’s, taking Y/N off guard, but she didn’t stop Ellie. She looked at their arms and smiled a little. “Let’s get you a cup so we can get this party started.”

“Love your skirt, by the way,” Fatima smiled as they reached a table with tons of cups and napkins.

“Ahh, thank you. Haven’t worn it in a while, so I felt it was fitting to do so today.” Y/N glanced down at her skirt, running her hand over it before reaching for a cup.

“Ellie and I were saying the other day that you’ve got such a sophisticated sense of style, you need to take us shopping.”

“Could use a few pointers,” Ellie agreed, watching Y/N as she poured herself a glass of wine.

“Really?” Y/N screwed the cork shut before putting the bottle away, smiling at the two girls. “I mean, it’s not that good-“

“-Out of respect for what Harry said, I will stop you before you discredit yourself,” Ellie smiled back.

Y/N laughed. “What about respect for me? Respect me wanting to discredit myself for having a mediocre clothing style.”

Both Fatima and Ellie joined in on the laughing and the three girls walked away from the table so they could hang out by themselves. Though St Ives had around 11,000 inhabitants, Y/N was sure a lot of the guests weren’t locals. Maybe friends from University or friends-of-friends, everything to get a good party going. Judging by what Fatima and Ellie told Y/N, this was an annual thing. Dax Rose held a massive birthday party and absolutely everyone was invited. Bring your own alcohol, bring a friend, and bring a smile, and you were welcomed with open arms. People were sitting in the sand or by the café, others were just standing around, some were dancing, and a group was also taking a swim and joking around in the water. Y/N genuinely liked the atmosphere; it was just really freeing and nice. People wore whatever they wanted, laughter could be heard everywhere, and it just seemed like everyone wanted to have a good time.

Though anyone could come join the party – something that made her look around her a few too many times -, there were still enough people there to notice something suspicious going on.

Fatima, Ellie, and Y/N stood just talking for a while. It was really nice to talk to some girls her own age again, she couldn’t remember the last time she had done that. She had some good friends at school but once they had gone off to University or moved away from Winchester, she fell out of touch with most of them. Y/N knew it wasn’t personal, she quite liked the fact her friends had acquired new lives for themselves, being happier and more fulfilled. But she had missed just standing around chatting nonsense. The conversation didn’t hold much significance, there wasn’t much crucial information going around, or any sort of seriousness attached to it, just some mates having a chat. Y/N found herself wondering if Fatima and Ellie would come if she asked them out for lunch one day.

“I saw this documentary the other day, it’s on iPlayer,” Ellie said. “It was super interesting and disturbing.”

“Oh?” Y/N said, tipsy at this point and just holding the cup of wine in her hand, not wanting to drink more in case it would make her dizzy and very giggly.

“Yeah, it was basically about all these people who committed gruesome murders in the UK, and who go free now.”

Y/N looked up from her cup with wide eyes and at Ellie as Fatima gasped.

“Yeah, I can’t remember what it was called…” As Ellie started thinking, a shadow appeared beside Y/N and she jumped. The tall red-haired man standing beside Y/N only smiled at her, holding a hands up to indicate he was friendly.

Fatima clicked her tongue. “Are you trying to give her a heart attack, Cam?”

“No, I’m sorry, darl,” the man said, looking at Y/N as he held a hand out for her to shake. “Just saw an unfamiliar face and thought I’d introduce myself, is all. I’m Cameron.”

Y/N took a huge breath, meeting Ellie’s eyes before looking at Cameron and shaking his hand. “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he mused under his breath, nodding his head as his hand fell to his side again. “Haven’t seen you around here before, Y/N.”

“I’ve only been here a month now.”

“Too bad we didn’t meet earlier, then.”

Y/N’s eyes widened a bit, the compliment taking her off guard. She only chuckled some, wrapping both her hands around her cup as she looked down at the liquid in it.

“When did you come back, Cam?” Ellie asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Two weeks ago. Are you on vacation here then, Y/N?” Cameron didn’t even spare Ellie a look, his undivided attention on Y/N as she continued to stare at her drink.

But suddenly a pair of black Converse appeared beside her bare feet. She felt a hand on her lower back, a warm and comforting pressure that slowly trailed its way to her waist, wrapping his fingers around her curves and bringing her toward him. Her figure fell against his, fitting against his side as if they’d done this before.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re trying to pull, Cam,” Harry said, his voice steady and a little darker than normal. Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol he had drunk this far or it being late, Y/N didn’t know, but she knew she liked it.

Cameron was quiet for a second. “Your girlfriend? Mate, you got a girlfriend?”

“This is her,” Harry continued.

“Ah, I’m sorry, Haz.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to my girlfriend.”

Cameron smiled, as if he couldn’t believe Harry, but he met Y/N’s eyes. “I apologise, I didn’t know.”

Y/N nodded, not really knowing what else to say or do. Cameron looked at the other three, saying a quick goodbye before buggering off. As he disappeared, Harry’s hand slid back around her waist as he came to stand in front of Y/N. She felt his touch along her forearm, rough fingers caressing her with such sensitivity as if he was afraid of crossing a line. Whenever he touched her like this, she could tell by the rough skin of his hands that he wasn’t used to being gentle like this; wasn’t used to being careful when touching someone else. His work made him have rough skin and maybe even a rough touch, but he was always so incredibly cautious when he reached for Y/N.

He slid his hand into hers, squeezing her fingers as she wrapped them around him. Their eyes met and upon seeing him in front of her, seeing him this close, she felt her eyes widen a bit. Though the entire reason why he was doing this was because there were people around watching them, it still felt like everyone was intruding on a special moment between the two of them.

“You okay? Saw he made you jump a bit,” Harry said, hooded and glassy eyes searching her face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just came up out of nowhere,” Y/N answered, offering a smile because she knew Harry’s concern was genuine.

Y/N wasn’t sure if Ellie or Fatima noticed Harry’s slight hesitance because by the sound of it, they were chatting amongst themselves, but Y/N did. Harry leaned in, eyes on hers till he closed them. Every single hair on Y/N’s body shot up as Harry pressed his lips gently against her cheek. He was covering her view of Ellie and Fatima, so the two couldn’t see the immediate shock on Y/N’s face. Their conversation halted, she was aware of that, but all her attention was focused on Harry’s lips and how hot her entire body got in the matter of a second. She closed her eyes, eyelashes brushing his skin. Harry pulled away, resting the right side of his forehead against her left for a few seconds. She wondered if he could feel how hard her heart was beating, how clammy her hands were. Could he tell she wanted to reach for his neck and hold him there, but she was carrying her cup and her other hand was already holding his? Could he feel her breaths on his neck like she could feel his? Did he want to stay like that, safe in each other’s company and unbothered by everyone else, for the rest of the night?

“I’m sure there are taxis driving about town if you two wanna go home,” Ellie said, and Fatima cursed her right away.

Harry took a step away from Y/N, clearing his throat as a familiar redness came to his cheeks. His hand was about to fall away from hers, but she gripped his harder, not ready to let go yet. He gave Fatima and Ellie a tight-lipped smile before meeting Y/N’s eyes again, the muscles in his face relaxing.

“El, I need a refill,” Fatima said, and though Y/N couldn’t read their faces yet, she could kind of tell what that meant.

“Let’s go get you a drink then. See you two in a bit.” Ellie and Fatima walked off, falling into conversation right away.

Harry made sure they were completely alone, that no one was eavesdropping before he said lowly, “Sorry if that was too much, I just… I just thought it’d look good, you know? To kiss my girlfriend- my pretend girlfriend around other people just to underline that we are… you know…”

Y/N nodded, biting her lips together as she watched Harry continue to try and find his words.

“Also, sorry if you wanted to chat to Cameron, I’m… I don’t want this to get in the way-“

“-I didn’t. I don’t.”

Silence stretched on, eyes on one another as the party continued around them. They didn’t have any regard for it as they kept their attention on one another. Y/N had answered so quickly and so honestly that it made her nervous when Harry didn’t say anything. Because it was true that she didn’t want to talk to Cameron, she didn’t know who he was and would probably never see him again. But she knew who Harry was, and she wanted to see him all the time. There was a comfort in his presence that settled over her like a warm, safe blanket. She liked being around him. She didn’t want to be near Cameron or anyone else.

“Do you think people think we’re a couple right now? Are we believable? Is this believable?” Harry mumbled.

Y/N giggled. “Well, you just kissed my cheek out of nowhere, I’d hope it’s somewhat believable and that they think we’re a couple.”

Harry laughed, looking down at their hands. “Yeah, it’s kind of… it’s kind of easy, isn’t it?”

Y/N frowned. “What is?”

“Being like this with you. I might feel like a right idiot when I take your hand or kiss your cheek, but you don’t make me feel like one.”

She smiled.

“It’s natural. Not that… that being in a relationship with you and acting like this is natural, I didn’t mean it like that, but it’s-“ He stopped himself looking up at her again as he bit his bottom lip, shrugging slightly. “-It’s like joking about with a friend and just having fun, feeling comfortable.”

“Yeah?”

“You know… I hope I don’t sound like a melt and I’m probably only able to say this ‘cause I’m a tad tipsy,” Harry said, and Y/N giggled. “But you’ve become one of my best friends. If not best friend, a very good one. Like… dunno, I can talk to you about anything, I don’t feel weird being silent around you, or saying or doing stuff that is weird, and I-I feel like you might feel the same way about me. At least I hope so.”

Her smile widened. “I do.”

He let out a small breath and Y/N chuckled.

“It’s sad that when this ends it’ll look weird if we remain friends, won’t it?” Y/N hated that she was thinking and talking about a time in the future they both knew was coming, but avoided talking about at all costs.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, do exes stay friends without it being weird to a degree? If you start dating someone for example, will our friends expect us to act a certain way, and if they do and we contradict their theory, will that make them suspicious of us?”

Harry furrowed his brows a little.

“I want to hang out with you and it’s sad to think that in August, we might have to part ways and never talk again ‘cause it’ll look… weird. Dunno, I haven’t really gone through this before.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Neither have I.”

Y/N laughed.

“I mean, I’ve gone through a break-up, but not like this.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I haven’t talked to my ex since it happened.”

They were quiet for a moment as Harry digested Y/N’s choice of words. “You haven’t talked to your ex since you broke up either? Like, at all?”

“He, uhm, he’s sent me texts, but I don’t want to talk to him.”

Harry must have noticed how little Y/N wanted to talk about her ex, because he looked down at their hands again and let their conversation end there. Y/N held her cup out for him and Harry took it, looking at it. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking if she wanted any more of it, but she shook her head. He poured it out in the sand.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” Harry asked after a little while, wiping something off the corners of his mouth with his free index and thumb.

“The party?” Y/N met Harry’s eyes and then searched for Ellie and Fatima, she’d have to find them later. “Yeah, it’s nice. I like your friends.”

“There are a couple more who want me to introduce you, so we’ll have to do that later if it’s okay.”

“Of course.”

Harry’s eyes fell to the now empty cup. “And are you enjoying yourself in St Ives?”

Y/N smiled. “I am, it’s fun.” As she laid extra pressure on the last word, Harry looked up and as she raised her eyebrows, he knew she was referring to them and their fake relationship. He chuckled and Y/N watched him.

“Is it everything you hoped it’d be?”

She was unsure what he was referring to, but she said, “More.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she answered, folding her hands.

“So, you’re… you’re staying?” Pause. “Right?”

Confused, Y/N furrowed her brows at Harry, studying his face to try and find some sort of explanation to that utterance. She slowly opened her mouth, and said, “Staying?”

“Here.”

“On the beach?”

“No.”

“In St Ives?”

Something that could be interpreted as a nod happened, but no words left Harry’s lips. Instead, he continued to look at her, eyes searching her face as if he could find her answer somewhere there. A slight breeze blew past them, making a curl come loose and hang in front of Harry’s eye. He quickly pushed it away, not letting anything prevent him from seeing Y/N fully as she realised what Harry meant. Y/N felt his fingers brush her arm on their way down.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Harry didn’t say anything or nod this time around. Their eyes didn’t waver, looking at each other and not daring to look away. Y/N didn’t register till then how close they were standing. When the wind blew from behind Harry, she smelled his familiar scent and it made something inside her flutter. It was instinctive to look down at his lips, just as instinctive to look up and feel her breath hitch somewhere in her throat as she saw his lips part. Unapologetically, Harry’s eyes did the same that Y/N’s had done just a few seconds prior. A fire-hot shiver ran up her spine as he glanced at her lips, taking a step forward so that their hands rested against one another. Y/N wanted to look at his lips again, but she simply could not look away from his eyes. He was so close and she didn’t want to ruin it, didn’t want to look away.

“Do you think we’re believable now?” Harry whispered, his voice hoarse.

Y/N couldn’t bring herself to answer, she was waiting for something unspeakable; something that couldn’t be put into word for fear of the reality of those words being too raw, too true. She felt his curl against her forehead. His breath on her nose. Her body prickling with anticipation and confusion, unable to properly decipher if what was going on was all part of the show or if this was genuine. Harry was too respectable to make a move, and Y/N was too perplexed to do anything. If she kissed him, how would he feel? Would he take it as her being genuinely interested in him, or that they were just doing it to seem like a genuine couple? And if she kissed him, would she interpret it as her genuinely fancying him, or would she do it just to feed into their façade?

Before she could think about anything else, someone shouted something above the music and everyone else talking. It seemed to have caught quite a few people’s attention, because the volume on the beach lowered considerably. Harry tore his eyes away from Y/N and looked in the direction of the commotion. Y/N did as well, craning her neck to see beyond the group of people that were hugging and crowding what looked to be a new guest. Harry froze in front of Y/N and she looked at him, then back at the group.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“My…” Harry mumbled, pausing for some seconds. “Emilia.”

Y/N looked back at Harry. “Emilia?”

Harry nodded.

“Your ex?”

“The one who lived in Munich for two years, yeah.” Harry ran a hand through his hair before he met Y/N’s eyes. “I haven’t seen her since she came back, think she came back sometime last week.”

“Do you want to go say hi?”

“I…” Harry glanced in Emilia’s direction again, clearly thinking it over thoroughly. “I mean… yes, but… she’d meet you as well. She’d have to.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Dax won’t be able to keep himself from bringing up the fact that I have a new girlfriend. Pretend girlfriend, but… you know…”

Y/N nodded.

“If she knows I’m here and I’m with my new girlfriend, she’s gonna wanna meet you.”

She inhaled sharply. “Why would she want to meet the person you’re supposedly being intimate with now?”

Harry’s eyes grew wide for a single second before he composed himself, blinking himself back to reason. “Dunno. Emilia is very sociable. Just like you.”

“But she’d meet the person you’re with now, I don’t see why she’d want to meet them.”

“Maybe she’s happy for me, maybe she wants to meet someone who supposedly makes me happy,” Harry offered, shrugging his shoulders.

Y/N stared at him for a few seconds. “I know you said she didn’t want to be with you ‘cause it affected her mental health, and I get that, but leaving you when you were at your lowest is still an awful thing to do.”

Harry glanced at Y/N.

“And then not talking to you for two years after just sodding off to Munich. She doesn’t know what you’ve been through since then, do you think she’s gonna care now?”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Y/N, I loved Emilia.”

“I’m aware, but the people we love don’t have to love us back the same way we love them. One part always ends up loving more, feeling more, doing more. We can’t choose how much we love someone, and we don’t have a say in how they love us, but the fact of the matter is that if you love someone, you act like it. You let them know.”

Harry didn’t say anything, he just bit the inside of his cheek and continued to look at Y/N.

“I’m fully aware you loved Emilia, probably still do, but it doesn’t sit right with me that she just removed herself like that completely. You’re not a toxic person, you were just going through a rough time.”

“Harry!” Amir shouted, waving Harry and Y/N over. “Harry, mate!”

Harry watched Y/N for a few more seconds, probably either debating what she’d just said or losing every shred of respect he had for her, Y/N didn’t know. He nodded in the direction of everyone and the two started walking there, strolling the distance in silence. She didn’t know how she was supposed to interpret said silence, if it was a good kind or if he just didn’t want to talk to her for the rest of the night because he had taken offense to what she’d said.

When they reached the group, they made space for Harry and Y/N, and the first thing Y/N noticed was the brunette standing on the opposite side to the circle from them. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw Harry and she smiled at him instantly, clearly happy to see him after two years of no contact.

“Hi,” she exclaimed, crossing the circle, and giving Harry a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Yeah, you too,” Harry said. “How was Munich?”

“Amazing, I’m moving there permanently after University, I’m sure.” Emilia stepped away from Harry and immediately, her eyes fell on Y/N. “And this must be the girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N’s eyes met, Harry raising his eyebrows in a quick “told you so”, which made Y/N smile some before turning back to Emilia.

“Yes, I guess I am. And you’re the ex.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he looked from Y/N to Emilia and back again. It was evident that the rest of the group, and quite a few others as well, were watching this interaction with keen interest. They were probably waiting for one of them to start a fight and the other one to feed into it, something Harry would step in to stop and take sides, which would ultimately just end badly. It was clearly something a lot of people thought would be great entertainment. But Y/N kept her cool, not wanting to sound passive aggressive or make Harry uncomfortable. Though she was not impressed with Emilia’s past actions, she wasn’t about to judge her solely on them. Y/N hoped she was right not to.

“I am, it’s been so long since I’ve seen Harry.” Emilia looked back at Harry, considerably smaller than him, looking up at him through her lashes. “That rain check you were talking about, you could make up for it by walking me over to get a cup?”

Y/N looked at Harry, about to open her mouth and ask what rain check Emilia was talking about, but she realised it was none of her business. And questioning Harry like this in front of everyone would just feed into everything everyone wanted. So, Y/N just crossed her arms over her chest.

“Actually, we’re about to leave,” Harry said, giving Emilia a small smile.

Emilia pouted. “Really? It’ll only take you a minute.”

Harry opened his mouth to inhale hugely, looking over at Y/N who hoped he could tell she didn’t like this. But Harry met Emilia’s eyes again, taking a step back and Emilia grinned as the two started walking towards the table in the middle of the beach with all the cups. Y/N watched them, how easily they fell into conversation and how eager Emilia was to talk to Harry again. While witnessing this, Y/N kept reminding herself of what Harry had said earlier, about her becoming one of his closest friends. She hoped repeating that moment to herself would prevent her from getting hurt and sad and angry, but it didn’t. When turning back toward the gang, she realised both Ellie and Dax were watching Harry and Emilia as well. And upon taking a look around, she realised Jo, Amir, and Fatima were as well. Y/N didn’t know for what purpose, but if Dax’s tense jaw was any indicator, it couldn’t have been for a particularly good reason.

Why would Harry do that? Though Y/N wasn’t in a relationship with him, it was still embarrassing for her to have to stand there and wait for him. She felt ridiculous when Fatima met her eyes again, giving her an apologetic smile, one Y/N – Harry’s fake girlfriend – didn’t deserve, but she appreciated it nevertheless. Because despite everything, this hurt. She dug her nails into her upper arms as she stood there, mad at Harry for the first time ever. Though it had been gormless of Emilia to ask in the first place, Harry hadn’t really needed much persuasion.

As Emilia and Harry’s voices got louder, the gang started up a light conversation that Y/N pretended to be part of. She only gave Harry a slight glance before looking back at Dax who was talking, the guy not giving the returning two any of his attention either. Y/N wondered if Dax thought the same way about Emilia’s behaviour as she did, but then again, it wasn’t like Y/N could take Dax aside and ask him that. If Y/N sought Dax out to talk about Harry’s ex, it wouldn’t look good.

“Ready to leave?” Y/N asked, reaching into her tote bag for her cardigan. Some of her passive aggressiveness was detectable in her voice, she hoped no other than Harry picked up on it. She was still tipsy so she blamed her incapability to hold back on that.

“Yeah,” Harry said, standing very still as he watched Y/N put her cardigan on. Once it was on, she smiled at everyone, and then looked at Harry as he directed a “See ya, yeah?” at everyone. Though Dax was visibly sad the two were leaving, he seemed to know why they were bailing because he didn’t ask them why or stop them. Y/N put her shoes back on and the two started on their way back up the hill that led to the car park.

It was unexpected when Harry reached for her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers so slowly and so deliberately that she felt it in every single one of her cells. Though it was nice to feel him there, she had to bite her lip from saying anything as they walked up Burrow Road. The second they were out of sight and alone, Y/N let go of his hand. This wasn’t something Harry would’ve usually paid much attention had he not heard her passive aggression just a few moments earlier.

“Is it Emilia?” Harry asked.

It was stupid how the only time Harry managed to be blunt and upfront was when he knew he was in trouble or if someone was annoyed with him. At least Y/N thought so.

She straightened her back, wrapping her cardigan tighter around herself. “What about Emilia?”

“Is that why you’re all… mad? Dunno if mad is the best word.”

“Think it describes how I’m feeling perfectly,” Y/N said. “’Cause I’d say I’m mad with a dash of disappointed.”

Harry looked over at her, frowning again. “Why?”

“Why am I mad you walked over there with Emilia?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders exaggeratingly. “Call it intuition, call it paranoia, call it whatever you bloody want, but I think she wants you back now that you’re not broken up about your Dad anymore.”

Harry took a few seconds to say, “I’ll call that stupidity.”

The laugh that left Y/N was anything but friendly and warm. “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

“Why are you so mad about this anyway? It’s not like we’re…” Harry stopped himself, looking over at Y/N who refused to look at him. “It’s not like we’re a couple.”

“It’s still embarrassing. I was left standing there while my boyfriend walked off with his ex. You don’t even want to admit that what you did was stupid.”

“’Cause it’s not, we just walked down to that table so she could get herself a cup.”

Y/N sighed, running her hands over her face. “Yes, it’s an innocent act and I probably have no right to act like this, but I’m being a friend. I’m trying to look out for you.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Being a friend, looking out for me?”

Y/N looked at him, seeing his set jaw and piercing eyes. “Why wouldn’t I look out for you?”

“Right now you just seem mad I hung out with my ex.”

She glanced away again, so frustrated with him that she felt like screaming. They reached Back Road, Y/N walking straight ahead to take the quickest way back to the Inn, Harry was turning right to Clodgy. “Interpret it any way you want, Harry. I’m being truthful when I tell you I just want what’s best for you.”

There was a pause as Harry watched Y/N cross the road. “You’re just gonna leave like that? You don’t wanna talk it out?”

“You don’t understand where I’m coming from, Harry!” Y/N exclaimed as she faced him, turning her back on the dark alleyway behind her. “What’s the point?!”

“Y/N, it’s not like I’m making out with Emilia in front of everyone!”

“I know, but that small act of just walking down there has a lot of meaning! She wants to make up for lost time!”

“You’re just reading too much into this!”

“And you think the best of people who hurt you!”

“She left for her own good, don’t blame her for that!”

“I’m not! I just think it’s odd to not check up on you in those two years following your breakup when you were clearly having a tough time when she left!”

“Oh, my days, Y/N.” Harry ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

“I know you want to see the best in everyone, but I’ve experienced people fucking me over ‘cause I gave them the benefit of the doubt. Multiple times. I’m not doing that again, I’m-I’m just not. And I don’t want to watch that same thing happen to you.”

Harry blinked when Y/N cursed, but quickly regained himself. “I can take care of myself!”

“I’m just being a friend and looking out for you, I’m sorry if-“

“-And what if I don’t want you to look out for me as a friend?!”

Y/N was about to answer, but she felt something brush against her back and then a figure moving out of the dark alleyway behind her. Her heart skipped a beat and the next thing she knew, she felt it in her throat. She jumped out of the way, stepping just in the crack between two cobblestones and stumbling away from the stranger. The man looked at Y/N as she regained her balance, about to reach his hand out to help her when Harry rushed across the road. Y/N managed herself, but she took another step away from the stranger who genuinely looked baffled as to what had just happened. Y/N put a hand over her heart, feeling it beating furiously. Calm down, calm down, calm down, she told herself, feeling safer the second Harry put a hand to her upper arm.

“You alright, miss?” the man asked, looking at Harry who was standing beside Y/N, making sure she was okay.

“Sorry,” Y/N said, doing her best to give him a smile. “I’m just a bit jumpy. And a tad drunk.”

He laughed joyously before continuing on his way, and the second he turned away, Y/N’s face fell. Harry noticed and turned her to face him, squeezing her shoulders so she’d look at him. She balled her hands into fists as she felt her heart beating hard, calming down from the sudden rush of adrenaline.

“You’re okay,” he said, recognising her reaction from that first time she read to him in the grass beside the lighthouse.

Y/N nodded, meeting Harry’s eyes and telling herself it was all fine. She would be fine. Harry was here and nothing would happen to her while he was here. She continued to look at him till she was calmer, but the thought of walking down that dark alleyway now made her want to hurl. However, she didn’t have any other place to walk and she had to get back somehow. Maybe she could call Bessie and talk to her, or maybe she could find another and maybe longer route back. But then she’d be out in the open longer than she initially wanted to.

“Have you always been like that?” Harry asked, the question curious and without any hint of judgement.

“Like what?”

“Paranoid.”

Y/N smiled a little as if that would brighten the mood that had fallen considerably. Slowly, she nodded, averting her eyes from Harry’s. “I like being prepared for anything, for any possible outcome.”

Harry didn’t remove his hands from where they rested on her shoulders.

“So, I either make them up, or if something happens unexpectedly, my brain does this thing where it tells me that the worst possible thing is happening, and I need to escape.”

“What’s the worst possible thing that can happen?”

“In any scenario?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N watched as someone turned every light in their flat off, wishing she was in her bed right now. “That my Dad finds me.”

Harry stayed quiet.

“He terrifies me. Always has. I know he won’t hurt me, but… he’s a bad man, Harry. A very bad man.”

“He won’t come here, Y/N. You’re safe in St Ives.”

Some part of her laughed at that, but when she met his eyes, she knew he genuinely meant it. If Harry was there, he would not let anything happen to her. No matter what. Even if they had a disagreement the second before her Dad showed up. But her father knew where she was and if he wanted her back, he would do what he could to get her back. A lighthouse keeper wouldn’t stand in his way.

Y/N felt her bottom lip starting to wobble at the thought of it, and she put a hand in front of her mouth when the back of her eyes started to sting.

“Hey,” Harry said, squeezing her shoulders. “Let’s go back to mine, yeah? You won’t have to be alone.”

She met his eyes, blinking a few times as she processed his offer. “Yours?”

“Yeah, if you’re a bit shaken up, I thought you might… might not want to be alone.”

Without really registering what she was doing, Y/N was nodding her head to answer his question. “If you’re sure I won’t be a burden in any way-“

“-Flower, you’re never.”

She almost thought she heard him incorrectly. Flower. She had never gotten a nickname before. Her friends back home used to call her ‘babe’ and her mother would sometimes call her ‘sweetheart’ and Bessie referred to her as ‘dear’, but never this one. She suddenly felt a little lightheaded.

Harry wrapped an arm around her and held her to him as they walked through the city. He hummed to The Power of Love as they strolled, keeping the empty and quiet streets of St Ives alive as long as they were walking through them. Y/N looked about them, staring down alleyways and streets, sometimes being too afraid to even to study the shadows or look to make out silhouettes in the darkness. Harry’s humming kept her grounded and reminded her that she wasn’t alone. Once they were walking along the road up to Clodgy Point, Harry let go of her, letting her walk by herself. It was starting to get a bit chilly when the winds of the moors started up around them, so Y/N reached for Harry’s knitted jumper in her tote bag and gave it to him. He was a bit taken aback by that, seemingly having forgotten it was there, but he thanked her, the only two words being uttered at all on their 30-minute walk up to the lighthouse.

Harry unlocked the door and walked in first, turning the light on the coffee table on as Y/N locked the front door. He opened a window to let some air in, then took his jumper and shoes off. Y/N did the same, wrapping her arms around herself. She was aware it had been Harry’s idea for her to stay here, but she suddenly felt like she was intruding. This was his space and his bedtime routine. They had walked off most of their drunkenness, so when Y/N tripped over her own feet a bit, it was purely from exhaustion. Harry was almost about to reach out and catch her even though he was across the room, but his dedication to help her made her chuckle a little. Harry smiled at the sound of it.

Y/N put her tote bag on one of the chairs, putting her cardigan over the back of it as well.

“I…” Harry started, making Y/N look over at where he stood by his dresser. “I have a few shirts and stuff if you wanna freshen up some.”

Y/N chuckled. “What do you mean?”

Realising he probably didn’t make sense, Harry let a breath escape his lips as well. “I meant, if you wanna have a shower, I’ll lend you a tee shirt.”

The thought of showering in Harry’s space seemed almost a bit surreal, but for some reason, also completely normal. She spent so much time here and with him that in a way, it was weird that she hadn’t showered here before. She slowly nodded her head, and Harry opened a drawer, pulling out an old tee white shirt with a small Elton John logo on the chest.

“Towels,” Harry said, walking over to his tiny bathroom and turning the lights on for her. “They’re here, and I got everything you might need in the shower. There’s an unused toothbrush in the cabinet under the sink.”

“Thank you.”

Harry gave her a smile before closing the door. Taking a breather first, the next thing Y/N did was get undressed and take that shower. She washed away the argument with Harry and the reason why it was cut off so abruptly; tried to soak herself in everything else that happened tonight that made her entire body warm. When Harry kissed her cheek; the way his hot lips felt against her skin, how the thought of that moment alone made her feel some type of way. She knew Harry only did it so everyone would think they were a couple, but her cheek was tingling.

She got out of the shower, drying herself off, and putting Harry’s tee shirt on, her skirt under it. Yes, the two were starting to get comfortable around one another, but she wasn’t sure if they were just there yet. Last thing she wanted to do was walk out there in her knickers and one of his tee shirts, then make him uncomfortable in any way. Though she felt like a raisin since she was not doing her usual post-shower skin routine, nor any hair products for her hair, she told herself she’d do it tomorrow when she was back to the Inn.

She walked outside to see Harry laying in his bed, his small telly that was stood by his couch, turned around so he could watch a rerun of an old Would I Lie To You episode. When the bathroom door opened, he instantly looked in her direction, placing his hands on either side of his form as if he got ready to get up. Their eyes met and his eyes fell to her tee shirt, where the material hugged her waist firmly. He met her eyes again, swallowing thickly before he gestured beside him at two glasses of water.

“One by the window is yours.”

“I’m literally so thirsty, thank you.”

Harry smiled, walking past Y/N and into the bathroom, going to take his own shower. Y/N sat down in Harry’s bed, nuzzling under the covers and taking a hold of her glass. She brought it to her lips, sipping it till it was empty, watching the telly as she did. She got up for a refill, drank half, and then just continued to watch the telly for a bit. The light in the room was dim enough so she could easily fall asleep, and she almost did drift off against the headboard, but then Harry exited the bathroom and woke her up with a start.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

She smiled, sinking down into the pillow. “Almost went off to dreamland there.”

“Soz.”

“I’m a light sleeper, it’s not your fault.”

Harry nodded, walking over to turn the lights off, the only light in the entire little cottage now being the light from the telly. He strolled over to the fridge and took a cucumber out. Y/N watched him as he brought a knife out, cutting it up in half.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Just brushed my teeth.”

“So did I, but after I’ve been out, I usually eat half a cucumber before bed.”

Y/N stared at him.

“What?”

“Just… just a cucumber? Nothing else?”

“What else? Do you spice your cucumber? With what?” Harry looked at his little box of spices by his stove. “Onion granules?”

Y/N laughed, placing her hands on the duvet above her stomach.

“I actually had jalfrezi leftovers after we went to the pub a few weeks ago,” Harry said as he came over to the bed, giving Y/N half the cucumber. “So I dipped my cucumber in that and ate it.”

Y/N grimaced. “Were you still pissed?”

“No,” Harry chuckled. “I just like cucumber and Indian food.”

“Fair enough.”

Harry picked up one of his quilts and sat down in bed beside Y/N, draping it over himself so she could have the duvet for herself. He bit into his half of the cucumber, completely unfazed as his eyes fell on the telly. Y/N tried not to laugh, but he looked so incredibly cute, munching on his cucumber and smiling at something Rob Brydon said. He must’ve noticed her not eating, because he looked down at where she laid in bed, raising his eyebrows.

“You weren’t hungry?”

“It’s not that.”

“It’s honestly refreshing.” Harry took another bite. “I love it.”

That made her smile and she took a bite of her cucumber as well, Harry watching her as she chewed and then swallowed.

“Well…? Your verdict?”

“It’s just a cucumber.”

Harry rolled his eyes, making Y/N laugh again. “You’re humiliating.”

“Says the person who eats half a cucumber before bed!”

“I’m quirky!”

Laughing again, the two fell into comfortable silence as they watched the rest of the Would I Lie To You episode. Though the idea of eating half a cucumber hadn’t been very appealing to begin with, it did make her feel a bit better. She didn’t know she’d been hungry till now, the cucumber and the two glasses of water had done a well enough job to fill her stomach up before bed, so she didn’t bother asking Harry if she could make herself a toastie. Instead, Y/N found her eyes falling shut, her entire body relaxing completely. All the worry and the paranoia and the fight earlier all came together now, making her so tired she could barely stand to keep her eyes open. Her entire body ached with the effort it took to stay awake. She stayed as close to the wall as possible, where she could look out across the dimly lit lightkeeper house.

Y/N felt the move as Harry reached out to the windowsill. He sat back, screwing the lid open, revealing a balm of some sort. He rubbed his middle finger in it, slowly sliding it along the thick balm till his finger was wet with it. Y/N bit her bottom lip. For some reason, she thought he was going to smear it across his own lips, some sort of cream to help keep his lips moisturised. No, instead Harry dragged his finger under his eyes. Not directly under his eyes, but along his cheekbones, slowly and gently.

“What’s that?” Y/N asked through a yawn.

Harry looked away from the telly and at her. “Face cream.”

“You put it on before bed?”

“It helps me sleep, it’s made of lavender and apricot. Both are supposed to help you fall into a deep sleep.”

“Can I try?”

“Yeah.” Harry handed it over, leaning his head back against the headboard, watching Y/N as she smelled it.

“Lush.”

“It is.”

Y/N rubbed her finger in it, putting it along under her eye. She was aware Harry was keeping an eye on her, but she pretended to find the programme incredibly interesting right then. She heard a slight chuckle.

“Not directly under your eyes,” Harry said. “Not there.” He leaned over, taking a delicate grip of her wrist and moving her hand down. “Here.” His hand moved upward to cup hers, his little finger, ring finger, and middle finger hooking themselves tenderly between her thumb and index. His index rested on top of hers as he guided her hand slowly and gently, tipping his head to the side to rest against the headboard while he concentrated. She didn’t dare look away from the telly, too overwhelmed to do anything but let him help her.

“Then the other eye,” he mumbled, telling her what was going to happen next. Because without warning, he dipped his finger in the balm Y/N was holding, swirling his finger slowly around till it was moist. When he did that, she simply could not help herself, and her eyes fell to look at his hand, taken aback by what was happening. However, she didn’t move or tell him to stop when Harry brought his hand up, sliding it over her cheekbone. Soft, slow, graceful. A prickling hot sensation followed where he touched, slowly spreading through her entire body. She looked away from the balm and at Harry, the second she did, he glanced back at her. A slight breath left her lips, Harry’s eyes falling to them. She sat up, finding the lid and placing it back on the balm. She handed it back to Harry.

Harry took it, placing it back in the windowsill before he got up from bed. Y/N lay back down, quickly checking the pulse on her neck because she knew her heart was beating hard. If it beat hard enough, would it somehow make the bed creak? Was it possible her heartbeat made her entire body shake like that? Just in case, Y/N switched so she was laying on her side. She watched as Harry turned the telly off, the room falling into complete darkness. Y/N closed her eyes, realising for the first time in a minute or two how sleepy she actually was.

It took a second or two before she felt the bed move and creak as he sat down. He shuffled till he was comfortable laying on his side facing her. Only reason she knew that was because she heard his content sigh and felt his breath on her face. It had been quiet for a minute or so before Harry whispered her name.

“Hm?” she asked, opening her eyes slightly. She could not make out much, but she thought she might’ve seen him looking at her. That might also just be her imagination playing tricks on her.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“I’m sorry, too.”

“I know you’re just looking out for me and I’m sorry if it was embarrassing for you when I did that.”

“I’m sorry I criticised her for leaving you when it was bad for her mental health, I just know that it can’t have been easy to have been in your shoes just then, so that break up can’t have been easy to deal with on top of everything else.”

Silence stretched on for a few seconds. “It wasn’t. But I don’t blame her for leaving if that was what was best for her.”

Y/N closed her eyes again. “Okay.”

She felt the bed move again as Harry found a new position that was more comfortable. The pillow she rested her head on moved a bit, she reckoned he slung his arm over the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Harry said, voice slurring now as well.

“Night.”

“My alarm will go off at 3am, by the way.”

She smiled. “I know.”

She heard him let out a slight breath, sounding like a small chuckle, and the next thing she knew, she was having the slumber of her life.

NEXT UPDATE: Sunday, 27 September, 9PM GMT!

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A HUGE thank you to my amazing and beautiful beta readers! 🌊 @aileenacoustic​ 🌊 @bopbopstyles​ 🌊 @fromyourstrulyh​ 🌊 @harrys-creature 🌊 @summerfeelng 🌊 @watermelonsuger​​ 🌊  @withallthelove-a​​ 🌊 

[juyeoniemyhoney]

can this morning never end

Namjoon is the most beautiful human being to ever walk the earth. It is natural that you have a crush on him. You expect that eventually, your feelings will die out but then, you find yourself squealing uncontrollably outside of the library that you and Namjoon had agreed to meet at for your pair-work assignment. You have always watched Namjoon from afar. It surprises you when you find out that Namjoon has been observing you too. Well, there’s a first for everything. 

-pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

-genre: FLUFF, a lil bit of angst, high school/secondary school au (where i live high school is called secondary school;-;)

-warnings: vulgarities, pretty self-depreciating writing if im gonna be honest so be weary, Namjoon is a little bit of a simp for oc in this one, the ending is lowkey shit rip im sorry

-word count: 3208 words

-A/N: hi hi im back, this time with a Namjoon fic. i havent been writing a lot because im so preoccupied with my exams. in all honesty, i shouldnt be writing at all but i have absolutely no sense of self control, so i wrote this. it’s not my best but i really like how joon’s so soft in this so i decided to post it anyway. don’t be afraid to tell me how you liked (or didnt like) this imagine! and requests are open! hope you enjoy this one:)

--------

As you approach the entrance of the library, your heart starts beating a mile a minute.

You stall outside the automatic sliding doors, mind racing with a million scenarios. You freak out a little and silently squeal, earning you disapproving frowns and judging eyes from passers-by. But you don't care. You've waited a whole week for today.

A week ago, during English class, you were busy writing instead of paying attention, as usual, when your teacher had given the class the assignment to write a scenario, of any genre but it had to contain the writer's techniques she had taught in class. And she made the whole class pair up. You, too lost in the world of fanfiction, had not been listening and frankly, you didn't really care, passing her words off as just more homework.

The next thing you knew, Kim Namjoon had turned around in his chair, calling your name in that deep, gravelly voice. At the sound of his voice, your head immediately shot up, eyes wide in surprise.

"Do you want to partner up?" he had asked, lips slinging into an easy grin, eyes curling up and that goddamned dimple making itself made known on his left cheek. He patiently waited for your answer, eyes periodically glancing down to your desk that was in disarray, pieces of paper containing your words messily covering every corner of your desk. You pray that he didn't catch a peep of your (admittedly) cringeworthy fanfic as you tried to subtly gather the papers before he could read too much.

"Um, partner up for what?" you questioned, confused, head tilting ever so slightly to the right in question, brows furrowed in misunderstanding. He mirrored your actions and your heart had unwontedly skipped a beat. A beat of silence passed, "For the assignment?"

Before you could ask what assignment?, your teacher had interrupted your conversation with a satisfied clap and a smile. "Alright, I assume you have all found your partners. I'll give you time to work on your assignment right now. Remember that planning is the most important stage of writing. Do approach me if you have any questions."

Namjoon had turned back to you with a wry grin that looked a tad bit awkward, saying, "Well, I guess we're partners now."

Which is how you find yourself freaking the fuck out in front of a library on a Saturday morning, mind racing with different, absurd scenarios and outcomes of this meeting. You decide to take another minute to compose yourself.

You wouldn't say that you like Namjoon per se. You just think he is the most handsome man to walk on this godforsaken planet. But seriously, that man is far too beautiful to be real. From the first time you met him til now, you have no doubt that that man is a celestial being, gifted to the world from the gods, purely to cleanse the eyes of us, mere mortals. To make matters worse, he is smart too; of a wisdom thousands of years beyond his age. You still can't believe you've had the god-given opportunity to meet someone like him.

Okay so, maybe you kind of like him a lot, more than you let on, but you're not really sure if you like him because he's Namjoon or if it's because you are lovelorn, touch deprived, or both.

You reckon it has taken more than a minute to compose yourself because by the time you snap out of your daze, you are five minutes late when you had actually arrived five minutes earlier than the agreed timing. You sigh and finally walk through the doors that welcome you into the cooling library, cold blasts from the air conditioning cooling down the fierce blush that had taken refuge on your cheeks.

You immediately proceed to find a seat but Namjoon texts you, telling you that he's already a step ahead of you, having secured a seat in a room with tables on the second floor.

When you reach the second floor, and make your way towards the rooms, you can see Namjoon through the glass walls, sitting down and silently reading a book as he waits for you. The closer you draw to the room, the faster your heart pounds in your chest. The sound is deafening and distracting and you don't even realise how fast you had walked until you are finally knocking on the glass door, sending Namjoon a small smile when he looks up at you.

"Hi, Y/N," he greets, smile widening into a grin so wide that it hides his eyes. Your heart stops but you hide it with a small smile as you settle down your things and yourself opposite him.

"So, what genre did you want to write about," he asks as you take a pen and a piece of paper out from your bag. You freeze when your brain registers his sentence. "The assignment is to write a story?"

Namjoon stares at you wordlessly for a while, speechless that it's been a week and you still don't know what the fucking assignment is. You, however, have no idea that he is thinking about how stupid you are and happily stare back at him, taking in his mono lidded, almond-shaped eyes and the dark brown of his irises. His nose bridge is straight and the tip of his nose is a little flat, like a koala. You have never wanted to boop a nose so bad in your entire life.

"Yeah, that's the assignment," he responds patiently, giving you a gentle smile. You can't help but feel that it seems a little tight and forced, like he is regretting asking you be his partner, and regretting that he didn't have enough time to reconsider. You ignore the feeling of dejection that slowly bubbles up inside of you.

"I thought that it'd be easiest to write romance since you're so well versed in that.". You freeze. Time seems to have stopped and your ears refuse to register the rest of what Namjoon is saying, tuning everything out but your deafening thoughts. You have to remind yourself to breathe.

"You know that I write?" you interrupt Namjoon. He stops and fixes you a look of confusion, like it is so obvious that you write. It's not that you've been trying to keep it a secret. The thing is, for most of your stories, Namjoon is the main male character. In most of your stories, you have described every single part of him in excruciating detail, his eyes and lips especially. When your friends had first read your stories with Namjoon as the male protagonist, they had caught on quickly, almost immediately asking you if you were describing Namjoon because of how well you had described him. A bad feeling washes over you.

"Yeah, you're always scribbling away during English so I got curious and asked a few of your classmates," he responds, flashing you another lopsided smile. If this were any other situation, your heart would have been absolutely eliminated because of that smile but in this situation, all you can think about is if he's read any of your work. Because if he has, you're done for.

"What did my classmates say?" you question hesitantly, still deciding if you want to know his answer.

"Well they said that you've been writing since forever. They also said that a lot of people know that you write. Oh, and they also said that you had some published works so I went to check them out—" Namjoon's voice fades out as he continues to talk.

This is it.

It's the end of your social life. Namjoon is going to tell his loud ass group of friends that you write stalker-esque stories about him and then one of his friends is going to accidentally tell their girlfriend and then the girlfriend is going to spread it across the school and you'll be known as the loser who writes creepy stalker stories about Namjoon—

"It was amazing," you hear Namjoon say in between your mild quarter-life crisis. You pause and look him square in the eye. You want to come off as serious but you falter slightly when Namjoon stares back at you, irises a whirlpool of dark brown and glittering fascination, a swirling vortex that draws you in with a vicious intent of drowning.

"Yes?" Namjoon questions you after a beat of silence passes. You want to ask him if he knows that he is reading about himself but you stop yourself. "You like my stories?" you ask instead, feeling a tad bit shy now that you've realised that Namjoon likes what you write about him.

He lets out a small laugh, "Is it that hard to believe that I like what you write?"

"I was just surprised." He flashes you another wide grin and there it is, those cursed dimples show themselves again, grinning tauntingly at you and your heart commits the highest act of treason when it starts to beat faster. You gulp.

"You shouldn't be surprised. It was really good. I really liked it when you described the male character. It felt like I was looking at him myself. That's why I asked you to be my partner. I'm sure with your talents, we can get a really good mark on this assignment."

Your heart thuds a little faster when Namjoon tells you that his favourite part was reading about how you described him. But it falls to your stomach when he tells you that he picked you solely for your supposed talents. You don't know why, but a part of you had thought that maybe Namjoon wanted to get to know you better, and was using this assignment as an excuse. You thought that it was finally happening, someone you like has finally noticed you. But it looks like you thought wrong.

"Thank you," you say meekly, flashing him a half-hearted smile that you're sure he notices from the way he stiffens. "So, you said that you thought that romance would be a good genre, but what do you want to write about?"

Namjoon is silent for a while, lips pursed in ponder. You wait patiently for his answer.

"Well, I thought that I'd wanted to write romance too," he answers flashing you an awkward smile. The silence that follows is palpable and suddenly, you feel so very exhausted. "Well then, that's settled. Now we just have to think of a situation."

"How about this one?" Namjoon asks immediately after you finish your sentence. He says it rather suddenly and it startles you a little. You can't help but hear a certain extent of desperation in this voice. He wants to get this over with, you tell yourself.

"How do you mean?"

"Kinda like us now," he starts but stops to think about what to say next. You remain silent. "We should just write about us but make it a love story. For example, the two main characters are supposed to do a project together so they meet at a library," he pauses to gesture to the shelves surrounding the both of you.

"Then they start working on the project and they start talking. Then, somehow, the boy confesses to her. And the girl tells him she's always felt the same way. We can come up with how he confesses since I myself haven't come up with that yet," he continues, softening the last part of his sentence into a mumble that you barely hear, but still do. You pause. What the fuck?

"What did you say? I didn't hear you," you ask against your better judgement, curiosity getting the best of you. "Huh? Oh, it was nothing."

A furious blush begins to spread on the apples of Namjoon's cheeks, and for some reason, your body begins to mirror him, heart pumping hot blood to the blood vessels that lay beneath the skin of your cheeks. Namjoon shyly directs his gaze to his lap, dark brown bangs, the colour of his eyes, coming down in luxurious curls and waves to hide his eyes. You can't help but think that you like to see Namjoon like this; soft and shy and vulnerable because he is usually so confident and suave. It feels like he is showing a new side of himself to you, like he is peeling back the layers of masks and personas he has built until he is left raw and natural, allowing you to see everything that he is. The thought of that leaves you feeling winded because it is exactly what you want. And suddenly, you don't feel bashful or shy because of his words. Instead, you are determined, hellbent on making something out of this and you hope with your whole being that it is a relationship.

You are about to say something, to question him, bombard him until he is spilling his feelings in fumbled words and sentences of desperation and want, clawing at you until you too, are raw and vulnerable. But he beats you to it, speaking in a soft, hushed tone, as if you are a stern silence that he is afraid of interrupting.

"I think you're amazing, Y/N. What do you think of me?"

He stares meekly at his lap, too afraid to even spare you a glance. You remain silent, building his desperation like you are some professional flirt. In all honesty, you really just want to tell him you like him too but you're just so scared. The evidence that he at least feels something for you is right in front of you and yet your brain rejects it like a vending machine rejects a bill, walls built far too high and thick that words are no longer enough to convince you. He has to show you. And you think he knows that too.

Namjoon's head shoots up to stare you in the eyes, a new found determination and confidence burning in his eyes. The way the light finds his dark brown irises makes your heart do a million somersaults. They light up and turn into a golden brown you can't help but compare to a sweet, caramel syrup that coats your tongue in golden, sugary gratification. You swallow so hard, you feel the sides of your throat rub together painfully. 

"I think you're freaking amazing, Y/N. Every time I look at you, I always want to make myself better. For you. I want to become the best version of myself in hopes that it'll satisfy you and garner your attention. And I really like that you do what makes you happy. I absolutely love it when you write in English because you're always so focused and serious, plus, you make that really cute face when you're concentrating and it always makes my heart beat a little faster and it makes me hate that I sit in front of you because I have to keep finding stupid reasons to turn around just to look at you and I just think you're the most amazing, admirable, lovable person ever," Namjoon lets out. His words are rushed and desperate and you melt like goddamn candle wax.

"I'm— Wow, I'm— thank you, Namjoon. That really means a lot to me," you stutter, not really knowing what to say at first but finding your words soon enough. "Oh, and I feel the same way," you add, somehow missing the main point of your response. It doesn't matter anyway. He knows now. That's all that matters.

"Wait, really?"

You let out a laugh. "Yeah, Namjoon. Is it that hard to believe that I like you too?" you reply, a homage to your previous conversation.

Namjoon smiles a small smile, then it widens, and widens, and widens, until he is flashing you a blinding grin that could outright beat the glare of sunlight. "You said that you like me," he points out, eyes shining.

It is your turn to blush in embarrassment, cheeks feeling hot as you begin to sink into yourself, hair falling from behind your shoulders to hopefully make itself useful as a curtain to shield your red face from Namjoon. Something in Namjoon's chest begins to splinter at the sight. He is so very tempted to pull out his phone and snap a picture of you but he holds himself back at the thought that he is positive he has many more chances to do so. His ribs nearly break in half because of how hard his heart beats.

"It's a good thing that I like you too," he says gently, smile now gentle instead of blinding. "Also, we have a plot now!" he exclaims in excitement as he slides the pen and paper closer to himself, ready to start on your assignment.

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

"So, we're, are we? You know... Um, dating now?"

Namjoon's eyes widen in horror and he deflates himself, a disappointed frown pulling his eyebrows together at the centre and turning the corners of his lips down. "Shit, I'm sorry I didn't ask— I just assumed—" he cuts himself off, clearing his throat dramatically.

"Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?" he asks. Somehow, he still feels nervous even though he knows that you answer is a resounding, "Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend."

Namjoon lets out the breath he didn't even know he was holding and it comes out in a relieved sigh. "Thank God because if not our story would have a horrible ending," Namjoon comments, picking the pen back up and clicking it open.

"Let's write that," you cut in before he can say anything else. "Write a sad love story?"

Namjoon is going to tell you no, to completely disapprove of your idea because writing a sad love story is one thing but writing a sad love story that will be handed up to your teacher for her to grade is another thing. But then, he sees your eyes glisten in determination and he dispels his thoughts immediately, folding into himself like a goddamn lawn chair. He can't believe he was just about to say no to you. What the fuck is wrong with him?

"Please? I'm better at writing angst. Plus, we have a happy ending and that's all that matters," you press, trying to convince him. You don't have a real reason other than the fact that you write angst better. You also don't really know why you want to write angst right now when you feel as if you could fly. But it doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore. Namjoon is your's now. 

Namjoon flashes you a dimpled smile, eyes curling up and glittering with mirth and unadulterated belief in you. You can't help but think that you want him to never stop smiling like that, looking at you like you are some sort of celestial being, hailed from the sky solely to bring him every sort of merriment known to mankind and the heavens. The thought of him thinking of you like that scares you, because you are always afraid of not being enough. But Namjoon diminishes all of your worries with a short sentence, manhandling them by the throat and shoving them off a cliff.

"Okay, I believe in you."

[drawlfoy]

Fixed

masterlist

request guidelines

requests are open as usualllll

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

request: yes! i’m combining 2 slytherin!reader requests because they’re rather similar and i feel weird putting two nearly identical ones out, but i swear the storylines aren’t altered.

summary: draco has a teasing relationship with the reader--they playfully argue and go back and forth but never acknowledge the fact that there may be something more. draco notices her pulling back and becoming more reserved. he follows her out of the dining hall one day to find her having a breakdown over a dark secret.

warnings: breakdown (and not the dancing kind), if the summary didn’t already explain that. swearing and potentially suggestive argumentation. also ooc draco and i say “fuck you” to canon in this one

a/n: this is the first time i’m merged two requests together, so i’m feeling a little wacky but i hope it turns out to what you guys wanted! i’m so so lucky to have readers. i’d love any comments that you may have on my work, even if they’re constructive criticism!

music recs: peach pit is what comes to mind but i’m listening to scary stories as i write this lol because i live on the edgeeeeeee

word count: 2,924

Y/N was an organized girl, no doubt about it. So organized, in fact, that she never lost anything, and she most certainly never lost track of her wand.

So when she noticed in Charms that her wand was not stowed away in her cloak pocket, she immediately knew who did it.

Without even as much as a hello, Y/N strode over to her “friend” and fellow house member Draco Malfoy and shoved her hand into his pocket, wiggling it around.

“At least buy me dinner first.” Draco had started at the sudden sensation, but once he smelled the perfume of the witch behind him, he knew exactly who it was, not bothering to give her much of a reaction.

Y/N fished around his pockets for a bit before grabbing his shoulder and yanking him around.

“Where is my wand, Draco? I know you have it.”

He smirked evilly down at her, his eyes glinting with mischief. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you do!” She pulled him towards her by his green and silver tie, trying to look as menacing as possible. “I swear to god, Draco, I’m gonna hex you into oblivion if you don’t give it back.”

“With what wand?” He laughed. “And let’s be real here, Y/N, you wouldn’t anyways. You love me too much.”

Y/N’s cheeks grew red at the suggestion.

“As if, Draco! Give me my wand back, or I’ll throttle you with my bare hands!”

“Ooh, kinky.” 

She let go of his tie, shoving him away. Who was he to suggest these things to her? He’d never been interested as long as she could remember--no matter how many subtle hints she’d dropped, he remained oblivious, instead choosing Pansy’s incessant fawning.

Pretending like it didn’t hurt when he was ignoring her was easy. Pretending it didn’t hurt when he was inches away from her face and fake flirting with her was a whole other deal. 

“Give me my wand, you git,” she commanded, holding her hand out. Perhaps if she was animated with her hands, he wouldn’t notice her blush. 

Draco raised an eyebrow, one side of his lip rising along with it. 

“Ask nicely.”

“May I please have my wand back?” she spat, each word filling her mouth with venom.

“We could work on your tone a tad, but I guess I might as well,” he responded, nonchalant and ignorant of the searing look she sent him. Digging through his satchel, he retrieved her wand, pressing it into her hand.

Y/N sent him a syrupy sweet smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. In the corner of her vision, she could see Pansy watching her with a sour look on her face.

She was never one to disappoint an audience.

“Thank you, Draco,” she cooed, taking a complete 180 from her previous demeanor. Throwing all caution to the wind, she stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. 

When she settled back down to her usual height, she noticed that his eyebrow was still arched, but his evil look was replaced with one of inquisitiveness. 

“I knew you were in love with me,” he crooned.

“No, I’m just a big fan of charity work,” she shot back, spinning around and walking back to her desk.

It was, after all, just another Tuesday.

♥♥♥♥

“Are you still hopelessly obsessed with Draco?”

“Huh?” Y/N diverting her attention from her studies to what her roommate, Millicent, had just asked her. “Sorry, I was deep in a passage and didn’t catch that.”

Millicent rolled her eyes, crossing her legs on her bed. 

“I asked, are you still into Draco? I remember you talking about him in 4th year when we were getting dates for the Yule Ball arranged.” 

“Oh.” Y/N let her eyes fall back onto her textbook. “I don’t know, Mills. I think he’s kind of an arse. He totally knew that I was into him and asked Pansy instead.” 

Millicent chuckled sourly at that.

“Yeah, he was kind of immature back then,” she offered, resting her chin in her hand. “But, I don’t know, don’t you think that you guys have chemistry?”

Y/N thought for a few moments.

“I can’t say,” she responded. “But chemistry doesn’t really mean anything if they don’t care about you, you know? I think he messes with me just so he can feel like I’m still on the hook.”

“How do you know that?” 

“How do I know that he’s just using me?” Y/N rolled her quill over in her hands a few times. “I can’t say for sure, but I’m normally good at reading these situations and I don’t want to get my hopes up.”

“So you’re saying that you do have hopes that he’s interested?” Y/N didn’t have to turn to know that her roommate was plotting. 

“I’m saying that I really don’t have time to be worrying about it right now,” Y/N opined. 

Before she knew it, a hand was taking her quill out of her hand and closing her textbook.

“Hey! You can’t--”

“It’s been too long, Y/N,” Millicent whined. “We need to have a good gossip, and now that midterms are over, we can catch up. Please?”

Y/N couldn’t help a smile from creeping into her stony expression. While she had had reservations about her roommate at first, she soon learned that they brought the best out in each other.

“Okay, okay, but I’m not making any rash decisions, alright?”

“And when would I ever let you do that anyways?”

They both erupted in giggles while Y/N allowed her friend to pull her onto the bed.

“So, for starters,” Millicent began. “I heard that Draco and Pansy are going through a rough patch right now.” 

“And who did you hear that from?”

“Irrelevant. But if you care, Blaise, and Theo confirmed it as well. And I would’ve found out without their help...they’re acting weird. Pansy looks like she’s ready to slit his throat at a moment’s notice, if you haven’t been paying any attention for the past 4 hours.”

Y/N laughed nervously. Of course she had noticed...but she didn’t want anyone to realize how much she actually cared.

“Yikes, I hope they figure that out. Their parents are going to be mad if they break up, right?”

“No, probably not. His parents really want him to end up with a Greengrass...something about settling a deal from a few generations ago.”

“Oh.” Y/N swallowed any other hope that she had left. “That sucks for Pansy. I know how much she likes him.”

Millicent paused for a moment, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been feeling bad as well,” she said, her tone softening. “I’ve noticed the pain in your eyes whenever you see them together.”

“And it doesn’t help when he seeks me out to mess with me!” Y/N exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I try so, so hard to forget about him and pretend like he doesn’t matter to me, but he finds all of these ways to keep butting back into my life and it always works...”

Her roommate began rubbing her back, allowing the few tears being shed to fall in peace. 

“You’re worth so much, Y/N,” she told her firmly. “And unless I’m wrong, which we know is impossible, I think he kind of likes you too.”

“I don’t think you understand, though,” Y/N whispered. “Why would I ever want to be with someone who thinks of me as a second choice?”

Millicent was silent for a few breaths.

“Yeah. Maybe his parents pushed him to date her, though? Maybe he has a good excuse?”

“I don’t know, Mills. I’m just not going to think about it anymore, alright?”

♥♥♥♥

Draco was sitting across the breakfast table from Y/N, watching her sip her tea, waiting for the moment to throw another comment her way. 

The screech of owls interrupted his thought process, signaling that the morning post had arrived. A snowy owl landed gracefully next to Y/N’s plate, bearing a letter with a red wax seal on the back.

She shook herself out of her daydreams--she had been up late the night before cramming for an exam and had burnt through an entire candle. Stroking her owl, she whispered a genuine thank you and instructed it to fly on home.

Y/N picked up the letter, fingering the parchment. It was clearly from her parents--the wax seal bore the mark of her family’s crest. Confused, she ripped open the envelope and began skimming the letter.

Oh, no. Oh, no.

Her vision began to blur as she folded the parchment up, shoving it back into her pocket. 

“Hey Y/N, what’s going--”

Before Draco could finish his sentence, she was already halfway down the aisle, moving quickly to the exit. He watched her go, wishing that he could follow but knowing that it wasn’t a good idea with the tension regarding Pansy.

It was high time to break up with her anyways--no reason to keep up appearances when he didn’t desire her.

♥♥♥♥

As the week went by, Draco noticed more and more changes in Y/N’s demeanor. She was eating less and spacing out more. Her skirt was wrinkled on Friday, something that rarely ever happened, and she was no longer sending him bitter remarks in response to his flirty ones. On Saturday, she stayed in her dorm instead of joining her friends for a day in Hogsmeade, something he had never seen her miss before.

Something was clearly wrong with Y/N, and for some reason, this twisted something in his chest more than breaking up with Pansy did. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her messing around in the common room, either. It was unnerving, really. The witch had no business worrying him like that.

So, when he passed by her during a free period and saw her walking ahead of him, he made the executive decision to finally do something.

“Y/N!” he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound. “Y/N, wait!”

She halted, turning around slowly. When she saw who had called her name, she stiffened and made to continue on her path. 

Draco, anticipating such a reaction, had already begun to jog towards her, lightly pushing past the rest of the students going the same direction.

“Y/N! Please, I need to talk to you!”

 She picked up the pace, but Draco’s long legs caught up to her as he slipped a hand into the crook of her arm, startling her.

“What do you wa--”

“Can I please talk to you? It’ll just take a second. I promise.”

Her expression was unreadable, but he could tell that she was considering her options. 

“Fine,” she finally said. “What is it?”

“Not here,” Draco quickly said. “Somewhere private. The common room, maybe?” 

“If you wanted to off me, I doubt anyone would notice if you did it right here,” Y/N said, waving her hand dismissively. “But if you would really like to talk there, then I guess I’ll comply.”

Without another word, Draco led her down to the dungeons, keeping his hand tucked in her arm, not trusting her to stick by him. It felt strange--normally he was the one holding his arm out, but then again, this entire situation was out of character for him. 

Once they had reached the common room, Draco waved his wand and lit the fire, sitting down in front of the couch to watch the green flames lick the stone.

“Sit,” he instructed, patting the space on the couch next to him. 

Surprisingly, Y/N did as she was told, folding her legs up on the couch and sending Draco a death stare.

“Get on with it.”

“I just...I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” Draco faltered. Playing therapist was not something he had experience with. “I’ve noticed you acting strange since you got that letter at breakfast and it’s making me worry. Can you just tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it and we can be normal again?”

Y/N was silent for a while.

“You can’t fix this. Not this time. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean I can’t? Just tell me, Y/N, please.”

Silence again...except for something else. Draco stole a glance at Y/N and was stunned to see the firelight illuminate tears rolling down her face. 

“Oh, no, Y/N, what’s wrong?” 

The question only made her gasps for air louder as Y/N curled herself into a ball.

“I’m sorry,” she managed. “You should go. You can come back later when I’m calmer, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Draco murmured, bringing up a hand to steady her shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll make it better, alright?”

“My parents are forcing me into an arranged marriage,” she whispered, hugging her knees to her chest. “He goes to Durmstrang. I hate him. They offered my hand in marriage because they want his father to be more amiable to mine in this business deal, and since I’ve never been in a relationship, they think it’s the only chance I have anyways at finding a life partner.”

The sobs had stopped. Her tears fell silently now, staining the whites of her sleeves.

Draco himself had to process the information. Y/N, married to someone else? No, he never could’ve imagined that.

Without anything particularly useful to say, Draco just opened his arms.

“C’mere,” he awkwardly mumbled. 

Y/N studied him for a few seconds.

“I’m going to get snot on your shirt.”

“I don’t care.” 

With that settled, Y/N released her knees from her hold, instead crawling into his lap. He stroked her hair as she wept into his shirt and clung to him.

Oh, how this was embarrassing for her. She supposed that there was a reason why her parents were so desperate to accept an offer for her hand. 

Draco suddenly stopped, moving his hands to tap her shoulder.

“Y/N,” he began, “Would they make you marry him if you were already in a relationship?”

She sat up, blowing her nose into her handkerchief before answering.

“No, probably not. Why?”

“Well...” He pondered for a second, wondering if he was really going to be brave enough to say what he wanted to. “What if I was in the picture? They wouldn’t care to pass you off to some random Durmstrang boy if you had a Malfoy instead, right?”

Y/N stared at him.

“Er... probably not. That’s nice wishful thinking there, Draco.”

“I’m being serious!” He wasn’t expecting it to go this direction. 

“How do I know that you’re not joking?” she queried, scootching further away from him and trying to ignore the pain that flashed across his eyes.

“I let you cry all over my dress shirt,” he reminded her, motioning to the stains on his chest. “Do you think I’d do that for any girl?” 

Y/N just shrugged, hiccuping once before she stuffed her handkerchief back into her pocket. 

“I wouldn’t.” Draco answered his own question, reaching up to gingerly brush her hair out of her eyes. “I know it must be weird seeing me with Pansy.”

“Yeah, no shit,” she mumbled. “I didn’t even think about that. My disbelief was due to the fact that you’ve never been interested.”

Draco flinched. 

“I don’t think you’re completely right there,” he said, his hand pausing to cup her face. 

“Are you forgetting the Yule Ball ordeal? How you knew how much I liked you but you still went with Pansy instead?”

“You don’t understand,” he responded hastily. “I didn’t know--I was 14 and an idiot. I couldn’t tell if you liked me or not and I knew that she did, so I wasn’t afraid.”

“And so you dated her for another 2 years?” Y/N answered in disbelief, seemingly forgetting the fact that she had just been crying her eyes out.

“At first it was to make you jealous,” Draco explained. “But then Pansy’s parents began to expect a lot out of us, and I was waiting for the right time to break it off, and it just didn’t....ever come around.”

Draco jumped as Y/N smacked his shoulder.

“You’re an idiot,” she snapped. 

“I know.” Draco gulped. “And I’m sorry about that, Y/N, I really am. Let me make it up to you. Owl your parents and tell them that you had forgotten to mention that you’re already in a serious relationship with me.”

He curled an arm around her waist, highlighting the fact that while she wasn’t lying on his chest, she was still nestled into him.

“Under one condition,” Y/N told him, an elvish glint in her eyes.

“Yes?” He reached up his free hand to boop the tip of her nose.

“What was that?!” Y/N jerked her face away from his.

Draco smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You were saying?”

Her mouth was parted slightly in confusion as her brain tried to recall what she was about to say.

“I--just don’t be a pill, Draco, alright?”

“C’mon now, when have I ever been one?” He smirked down at her, wearing the expression that he adopted whenever they teased each other in class.

Y/N was trying her hardest to stay composed, but a genuine smile fought its way onto her face. It only widened when Draco leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Pulling away, he uttered the words that would lead to her lightly smacking him on the shoulder again:

“I told you I could fix it.”

final a/n: kindaaaaaaa mad that i took on this request at this point because i totally could’ve turned this into a series where the reader and draco don’t admit feelings this early and instead decide to “fake date” so both parents would be happy but i have a lifeeeee grossssss

[middleofnowhere92]

Jetka for @the-messenger-hawk for my ATLA Valentine’s Day Oneshots

Conversation Hearts

Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jet/Sokka (Avatar), Jet & Sokka (Avatar) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, College, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Modern Era Summary: It's Valentine's day, not that Jet gives a fuck. He almost gives a fuck about his midterm tomorrow, so he sits waiting for his new tutor.

Read on ao3 or below the cut 

Jet leaned back precariously in his chair in the athlete student center. He grabbed his pencil and flicked it at Longshot who was across the room with his tutor, some girl in engineering named Smellerbee. Pipsqueak and his tutor, Aang, laughed at Jet’s shenanigans as they packed up their things and left the study area. Jet huffed some of his unruly hair out of his face.  

He wished Aang was still his tutor, but the advisor for student athletes had switched around schedules with the spring semester. Now Jet was getting someone new. He chewed on the chalky heart candy in his mouth. It wasn’t the best taste, but it satisfied his incessant need to chew on something.

Longshot and Smellerbee packed up too and soon Jet was left alone, waiting for some tutor that probably wasn’t even gonna show up. He glanced at the clock. He really should just leave. Tutoring hours were done. Jet guessed whoever it was had a Valentine’s date that was more important than tutoring him.

He should just leave, but he had a midterm tomorrow in his agriculture econ class. He needed at least a C to play on Saturday. He glanced down at his blank study guide that he should have been filling out throughout the semester. The stress gnawed at him, so he gnawed on more conversation hearts.

The door was calling him, telling him to just leave and sleep through tomorrow’s exam like he typically would, but finally someone walked into the room.

Jet immediately recognized Sokka.

He also immediately recognized that he was fucked for tomorrow’s exam.

Sokka barely looked at him, “Look, I’m not in the mood to deal with your fucking bullshit. Let’s just go over your study guide so I can get paid and we can both go home.”  Jet continued balancing in his chair, “It’s good to see you too, Sokka.”

The other boy didn’t even look at him. He unceremoniously dropped his backpack, plopped down in the chair and pulled Jet’s empty study guide towards him. Jet tossed up a few hearts and caught them in his mouth. Sokka’s gaze never left his unimpressively blank study guide.

Jet, always uncomfortable with silence, shifted the discomfort to Sokka, “I’m surprised Zuko isn’t taking you out tonight, or are you doing something later?” Jet wasn’t college smart, but he was people smart. He knew exactly how to push people’s buttons. He took a perverse joy in riling up Sokka, only because he made it so easy.

“I explicitly said I’m not in the mood for your fucking brand of bullshit,” Sokka gritted out. His hands were grasping the meaningless study guide, causing almost enough tension in it for it to rip. Jet hadn’t calculated on Sokka getting this worked up over a simple question about his boyfriend.

Jet wasn’t one to apologize. He liked Sokka enough to almost want to, but he popped another candy heart in his mouth instead. The chalky taste seemed more unpleasant, but he swirled the candy around his mouth anyway, lodging it in the back corner of his jaw right above his molar.

Sokka shoved the paper back in front of Jet. He looked exasperated as he said, “You should try to fill it out. See what you know.” Jet scoffed, “I’m at tutoring because I don’t know jack shit.” Sokka’s cheeks sucked in like he had bitten something sour . He hissed venomously, “Two hours of tutoring isn’t going to make you pass an exam.” “Woulda helped if you had shown up on time,” Jet drawled as he leaned back in his chair, tossing up another heart to catch in his mouth.

Sokka barely moved, but his knee twisted just so, knocking Jet’s off balance. He sat up on the floor and glared at Sokka. He got up, thankful that he had just swallowed a heart and didn’t choke. He stood leaning on the chair, “What the fuck?”

Sokka pushed away from the table, turning on Jet, his eyes glassy and red, “I told you I couldn’t take your bullshit today. I fucking walked from the other side of campus, because the buses aren’t running, because there’s a little fucking snow on the ground. Why can’t people handle a few inches of fucking snow? But then I get here and I have to fucking tutor you and I tell you I can’t deal with your bullshit, but you serve it up steaming hot, because you are the king of all the assholes in the world and you can't help but be a douche canoe. No, not today, let’s just press all of Sokka’s buttons-”

Jet climbed over his chair and sat in the one Sokka had previously been occupying. He squeezed the other boy’s smaller hand just once as tears started to fall down Sokka’s cheeks. Jet fumbled for maybe the first time ever, “Shit, Sokka I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” Sokka hiccupped loudly, his one tear morphing into a full on ugly cry.

“Zuko-" He wailed as he cried. “Broke up with me today.” His body shuddered in an effort to breathe through the sobs, “He was supposed to drive me here,” the last part came out as a broken off wail, “but we’re not together anymore.” Jet still held his hand drawing circles with his thumb.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the word and the genuine feeling behind it were foreign to Jet.  Sokka looked at him, his blue eyes still glassy and pink. He pulled his hand away from Jet’s and wiped his eyes, “S’not your fault. Sorry, we should really do your study guide.”

Jet cocked his head to the side, like an overgrown confused puppy. He chewed on a candy heart and asked, "You sure? I can say we did tutoring. You'll get paid and you can go home." Sokka shook his head, his chin length hair shifting with the movement, "No, that's okay." Jet rolled his eyes at Sokka's decency, but scooted back into his own chair.

As they worked through the study guide Jet couldn’t help but focus more on Sokka than the material. He was an engineering and business major, not an Ag major like Jet. But the material came easily to Sokka as he glanced over the textbook that Jet had never even cracked open.

At the end of the two hours, Jet shoved his completed study guide in his book and crammed both in his backpack. He didn’t miss the wince from Sokka at the sound of the paper crumpling. Jet smirked and slung his backpack over his shoulders.

He stilted his steps to be more in line with Sokka's smaller ones. He dumped a few candy hearts into his large palm. He glanced at the pastel candies, holding out one to Sokka that read Let's get busy .

Sokka glared at him as they pushed the doors and the cold February air greeted them. He pelted the heart back at Jet, who caught it in his big mouth. Jet raised his hands up in triumph.

Sokka just shook his head as they walked. Jet bumped his side into Sokka's shorter shoulder. The shorter guy looking over at the taller athlete, "Thanks." Jet tossed up another candy and caught it in his mouth, "For what?"

Sokka shrugged shuffling in the snow, "I don't feel as shitty as I did." Jet grinned, his teeth not perfectly straight, "See, you do need my bullshit."

Jet skidded with chaotic glee across the icy sidewalk in his slides, his socks soaking in bits of snow. He thought about offering Sokka a night to forget Zuko, taking the pretty boy back to his apartment. This could be Jet’s only shot at making Sokka his. But something in him made him keep his thought to himself.

He knew how in love Sokka had been with Zuko. They did seem dam near perfect for each other. Jet calculated as he tossed a snowball that purposefully just missed Sokka's hair.

He didn't want Sokka just for a night. If he got him he couldn't just let go. Tonight, Jet had actually gotten through the wall that always seemed to be between the two of them.

He jogged, not using his full speed as Sokka scooped up snow and flung it, hitting Jet on the back of his neck. Sokka's eyes were back to their normal clear blue. His laugh was enough to warm Jet, who was just wearing a hoodie as he brushed off the snow.

He put his hands up, "I surrender! There's a pizza place open up here. Wanna stop?"

Jet's heart seemed to stop as Sokka chewed on his lip, debating his answer. He nodded, "Sure. Can't turn down pizza." Jet followed him in the small dive. They ordered and sat. Surrounded by other couples, as they debated over whether pineapple was a viable pizza topping.

Their legs or elbows would inevitably brush as Jet swung on the stool he was perched on. He kept throwing out new topics for debate, getting a thrill over seeing Sokka's eyes get fiery over whether Pepsi or Coke was better.

As Jet finished off his fifth slice of pizza, Sokka glanced in disgust at the small pink box on the counter between them, "I don't know how you can eat those things."

Jet shrugged as he stuffed the last of the chalky candies in his mouth, "I'll put just about anything in my mouth." "Noted," Sokka quipped. The two of them burst out in laughter.

As they stepped back outside, Jet looked at Sokka through his shaggy hair. His slides scraped against the salted side walk, "Same thing next week?" The cold was making Sokka's cheeks tint a pretty shade of pink. He rolled his blue eyes, "You wouldn't need tutoring if you just paid attention."

Their bickering continued as they walked, lost in conversation.

[nurseofren]

Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Read chapter twenty-two

Title: Choice

Words: 8200

Summary: When one is hurt, comfort is imperative.

ST Rambles: Hello! It has been nearly a month, not quite, but I have missed you all so entirely too much to admit. This story is my heart, and sharing it means the world to me. I took my first exam of the semester this morning and wanted to finish this chapter so I could upload prior to going to my first maternal-newborn clinical rotation on Saturday.

During my time away I have had the opportunity to read many amazing works, whether they be one-shots on tumblr or ficlets right on A03. One that has evoked such a strong response in me has been Three Blind Tooke by ElmiDol. She is a beautiful soul with such a gift for storytelling. I have quickly fallen in love with this story and I hope to encourage many of you to do the same.

My plan for the semester and writing is to take one week writing and then take one week to read the stories that I want. I think this will provide the necessary balance needed for me to be successful in school while also creating and enjoying other creator's content.

[MASTERLIST]

Time has always had a funny way of making itself scarce when needed most. It seemed that you could barely remember the trial, like it had never happened and all that remained to prove that it had were the restraints locked tight around each of your wrists and your neck. Above you sounded the molten, fatal buzz of the plasma guillotine, though it was mere background noise to the riotous cacophony of the rabid crowd awaiting your final moment. As you knelt, trembling against the icy durasteel, face frozen under cold-stuck tears, you tried and failed to settle into acceptance that this would be your last act of life.

“Please,” you whimpered, unsure if anyone could hear you, “I… I saved that man’s life. I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t deserve to die for keeping my oath.” You tried to scream but the pleads were barely whispers.

Out of sight came a bellowed laugh, full and ragged just as it had been in the past. “That isn’t why you’re here, young officer.” Snoke could hardly contain his glee. “You’re forgetting, you may have saved one life, but you took another.”

Nausea waved through you and your head started pounding; Snoke’s presence was pain, magnified with each echo of his words as the arena shook against the surround sound. An uproar of cheers and chanting came from before you, the crowd booming with enthusiasm, hanging off of every word their Supreme Leader spoke.

Through the fog of terrified eyes you saw an image appear behind the audience, scaling the entire back wall and striking you with rage. A scrollbar read something you could only assume to be his First Order given name, your focus too centered on the enormous projection of Robbie’s face, smiling while he held his helmet tight against his chest. He looked too nice, just as he’d seemed when you gave him a name. He was being renowned as a hero, his death marking you as the villain.

“I… He! I was defending myself, he was going to kill me!”

“But instead you killed me.”

This voice was angelic, familiar and welcoming in the storm surrounding you. It was accompanied by the footsteps you’d become so fond of, coming closer with every panted breath that fell from your lips. Kylo crowded your view of the blinding screen, a cape trailing in his path. He stopped when he was centered in your view and crouched so he was eye level with you.

He wore no mask, nothing to conceal his beautiful visage as the sight of him constricted your heart. When was the last you’d seen him? It felt like it had been so long, yet you could barely grasp any concept of time. It was frustrating, like you were barred in your memory. Kylo’s face gave no indication into his emotions, yet for a fleeting moment you swore you saw a tear glint over his cheek.

“Yet another of your victims, yes?” Snoke remained hidden, his voice shifting between your ears, slithering like the snake he was.

“You made me! I had no-,”

“Choice.” It was a discordant wrath of voices; at first Kylo’s, then Snoke’s, trailing off with the whispers of Robbie’s and Mason’s.

Kylo brought one hand, bare and freezing, to your cheek. It hadn’t been there before, but his face was now split with the consequences of battle, a gash – open, pulsating, and weeping – ripping through his features. A shiver sank into you, you throat tightening.

The way in which he next breathed your name made you weep, his thumb catching the tear that burned into your skin. “You’ve always had a choice, remember? You just keep making-,”

“The wrong ones.” You finished his sentence, remembering the first time he’d said it. A futile attempt was made to reach for his hand, a sting coming as the restraint bit into your wrist.

The crowd was growing impatient, hordes of screams coming from behind Kylo’s shoulders. The screen behind him shifted to present the live cast of your suffering, the view suggesting that it was Kylo’s own eyes giving view to the onlookers, your face excruciatingly close, allowing every audience member to bask in the terror that plagued you.

You sniffled, nuzzling into his hand and looking between his eyes. He mimicked you, though his gaze was empty, just as it had been one of the last times you could remember seeing him. “I trusted you,” he said. “More than anything.”

Kylo began to leave you, his fingertips lingering just before he could take three steps backwards. The plasma blade above you began hissing louder with inevitability, your eyes squeezing shut as you awaited your sentence’s completion. Pain took root in your left upper thigh, a kind of burning as you continued to kneel. A string of agony tore through your throat as your eyes shot open to see Kylo’s hand shoot up.

“No, no! Please! Kylo, no!” You could see your face twist with desperation behind him now, tears willful in their presence as each one painted creaks of pain down to the durasteel.

Snoke let out another flood of evil-tinged amusement as Kylo turned his face toward the direction the sound came. “You still don’t understand, stupid girl.” Another bark of laughter. “You might have had a choice,” he said, “but your Master never did. Never will.”

And as they were spoken, you saw that crushing glimmer of humanity flicker in the face of Kylo Ren as he turned back to you. Snoke, infuriatingly, was right, of course. Hearing it out loud, accepting it as fact, calmed you down. Staring up at him, watching his fingers twitch, you spent your last remaining second pitying him for all the control he believed he had, knowing more than he did that it was a masterful mirage. Snoke had Kylo wrapped around his finger; you had only aided in tightening his grip.

More than anything. It was the last thought before you heard the overhead blade drawing near, its volume immense until it wasn’t. The next thing you were aware of was the overbearing smell of flatcakes wafting into your nostrils. Taking a few deep breaths, your attention went to the ache twisted into the back of your skull, the dryness sticking to your lips, and the warm weight present over your right leg.

Taking one more deep breath, you coughed, lungs feeling like they’d been stagnant for a while, rejecting the stretch of air. Light was obvious even as your eyes remained shut, its overwhelming presence leading you to blink a few times before adapting.

“Where am I?” you croaked out. Answering your question, you first saw the familiar polygon meal tray sitting atop a bedside table while your watch rested next to it, next catching view of the pulse oximeter resting over your left index finger. This was the medbay.

The first thing that came to mind was your dream, remembering Kylo’s wounded face. He was hurt. Where was he? Was he okay? The monitor to your left sounded louder as your heart rate accelerated. Warmth left your right leg as you saw something move in your periphery. A person.

Mason had been asleep, his hair stuck to his face when he first looked at you with shock and relief. “You scared me!” He sprung up from the chair he’d been sitting in and flung his arms around you. “The news about Starkiller came and I didn’t know where you were.” He hummed your name into your neck while rocking you back and forth. “I thought you were… I thought you had… I didn’t know…”

“Mason.” It was all you could think to say, your arms resting at your side as he kept his hold on you. Maybe you should’ve felt relief that he was here and that he was okay, but all you could feel was regret and an overwhelming sadness. Mason was none the wiser, but his very existence was a reminder of what you’d done, undeniable proof of the choice you’d made.

He finally leaned back, keeping his hand locked around yours and staring down at you with red-rimmed eyes. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his nerves settling more the longer he looked over your face. “I tried calling you—” a laugh accompanied the distant raise of his brows “—but I lost my commlink. I guess. I actually don’t know-,”

“What?” you interrupted his explanation, confused by his recall of events, wondering why Snoke wasn’t the focal point of his reasoning.

His face fell. “What? Did I say something? Are you hurt? Do you need water? Food? I actually ordered some flatcakes for me, but they’re all yours if you-,”

“You lost your commlink?”

His brow creased and his thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Yeah? Yeah. I mean. I guess. It’s been crazy around here today and—” his face bloomed in horror “—oh, fuck! I didn’t mean that your day hasn’t been bad, I just. Yeah. I lost it.”

He didn’t seem like he knew anything about Snoke, or that he remembered ever enduring the pain you’d heard him scream through the communication device earlier – actually, how long had it been?

“So… There was nothing… I mean, you weren’t… Summoned? Or…?”

“Summoned?” Mason looked at you with amused confusion. “I’m pretty sure they didn’t give you any pain medicine, but you’re acting a little loopy.”

He didn’t know. He was blissfully ignorant to Snoke’s involvement in your or his life. Again, instead of relief you were met with that bleakness from before. “Maybe I was just dreaming,” you brushed it off.

Dreaming. Kylo. “I need to see him,” you mumbled, moving to stand and becoming extremely aware of your left leg once more. A hiss left you before Mason could pull your shoulders back against the bed, your hand reaching down to soothe the blanket-covered wounds.

“Not so fast,” he said. “Doctor Belkar wants to examine you before you start walking.”

“Belkar?” You couldn’t remember ever hearing that name, though your memory may not be the most reliable at the moment.

“I heard my name.” A man – shorter, skinny, and dark-skinned – peered into the door before knocking and stepping in. “Oh, good! Glad to see you’re awake. You had us worried there for a moment.” Belkar took a few more steps so he was on your left, clutching a datapad under his arm and smiling down at you. His presence was comfortable and professional. He seemed to possess a bedside manner not common of many physicians, and he’d barely even spoken.

Squinting towards his badge you found his first name. “Trace Belkar.” You sounded it out, feeling a faint sense of familiarity. Looking to his face, it finally struck you. “Oh! You’re, you are the one who… You helped me with my friend earlier.” Warmth set in your cheeks when you realized you knew him.

“Ah! My first surprise patient of the day. Funny how things seem to come full circle, isn’t it? Now-,”

Further realization hit. “You also helped me that night. I was the nurse who…” Maybe he didn’t remember who you were, and maybe he didn’t need to, given your actions that night were rather infamous currently.

“Yes! I knew you looked familiar seeing you yesterday. You are the nurse that saved my patient’s life. Great work that night, by the way. Fast-thinking, resourceful. Gives me hope for the next generation of medics.” A quick smile flashed across his face before he reached into his coat pocket. “Now, if you don’t mind following my finger with your eyes.”

It probably took too long for you to follow his request as you were taken aback by his praise for that night. The only emotions you’d ever attached to that it had been pain and fear, likely influenced by the way you were being reprimanded at the moment, thinking of that night as a crime rather than the miracle that it was for that man.

“Um, yes. Sorry.” You shook your head and followed the tip of his finger as he dragged it around – up and down, right to left, and finally in a diagonal cross.

“Any nausea, pain, weakness, dizziness, headaches?” His tone was absent while he traced his penlight in and out of sight to finish his PERRLA assessment.

“I’m really fine. This isn’t necessary at all.” You couldn’t stand being treated like a patient. Even when you were one. Knowing the inner workings of every check made it difficult not to see through their purpose. “I could probably leave now and I’d be fi-ah!” You’d tensed your wounded leg without thinking when shifting in the bed.

“How’s that leg treating you?” It seemed he was psychic in his assumptions, though you knew he’d probably had a nurse do a head-to-toe assessment while you were out.

Mason was puzzled when you looked over at him. “What’s wrong with her leg? She passed out. What’s wrong with her-,”

“Mason, will you go find me some water? And maybe a warm blanket? Please.” Your eyes were locked with Belkar’s as you quieted Mason, mindlessly squeezing his hand to encourage his leave. Mason did not need to see your brand. He wouldn’t understand, and you didn’t feel like having to explain to him, that you felt deserving of it and much worse.

There was a silent moment as you watched Belkar and felt Mason’s eyes before he squeezed your hand back and told you he’d be back soon. The door shut behind him and the quiet swallowed you.

“From what I read in your chart it seemed you’d given yourself a makeshift dressing. Your nurse was actually impressed at how well it was done. I do have some questions about the scars under it, though. If you don’t mind.” He seemed to know to tread lightly; his demeanor reminded you of the one you were instructed to use on abuse survivors.

You shook your head, but this only clued you into another pain. “Jeez! Ow!” Your hand fled to your forehead, finding a bandage sealed over a large bump. It was tender to touch, flinching as you remembered Robbie banging your head into the door.

Belkar took his datapad from under his arm and tapped away as you recovered. “There.” He pressed the screen once more before returning it to its original spot. “The nurse should be in here soon with some-,”

“I don’t want it.” You swallowed, dropping your hand and staring at your lap.

Belkar paused and shifted in his stance. He clicked his tongue, put his datapad down, and pulled up a chair. He called you by your last name, professional yet with a considerable amount of concern. “Will you tell me what caused your injuries?”

He was attempting therapeutic communication. And he was succeeding. An uncomfortable laugh left you. “What is there to tell? I’m hurt. In ways that aren’t physical. Ways that are.” Your lip began to quiver before you caught it with your teeth.

Another pause from Belkar. His hand twitched and your eyes jumped to it. He noticed this. “Can I hold your hand?”

The offer was tempting, but you declined by shaking your head and finally looking up at him. There were crinkles splayed outward from his eyes and gray hairs obvious in an overgrown stubble on his cheeks. He was a kind soul, you could tell; it was evident in his eyes, clear and green yet full of warmth. Soon after setting eyes on him you felt your throat thicken and your eyes water.

“You know,” you laughed, scraping at your eyes and sniffling, “I don’t even know what I’d say to any of the questions you mentioned before.”

A kind smile, no teeth, brought his cheeks up. “How about just one, then?”

“Yeah. One. I guess.”

He made sure your eyes were on his before he spoke again. “Do you want to report the person who did this to you?”

Another nervous laugh left. And then a sob before the heels of your hands met your face. “That’s not necessary,” you said through hiccuped words. Robbie’s face flashed into your mind’s eye, the pool of blood spreading below him before the door hissed shut. Your dream, the screen presenting his smiling face. “I… I don’t even know what to do anymore! I can’t… I have… I can’t fix this!”

Belkar squeezed your hand, bringing you back to reality. His face was blurry through your tears. “Slow down. Just breathe. Shh. Slow down.” He modeled how to do so, exaggerating when he took a deep breath through his nose.

After several breaths you closed your eyes and threw your head back on the pillow, keeping your hand in Belkar’s. “I’m sure you’ve seen the scars? Or read about them at the least, right? And then I know you were the one who caught me before I passed out so you obviously know who I work for.”

“Are those two things related?” He was trying not to assume anything.

“All that matters is that this—” you gestured to your head “—and this—” you placed a gentle hand over your wrapped thigh, petting a thumb over it “—are unrelated.” Belkar knew not to speak when you choked on your tears in search of words you weren’t even sure you wanted to say. “I was… Someone broke into my residence just before the explosion. And he.” You paused again, feeling Belkar’s grip tighten and relax over your trembling hand. You cleared your throat. “I was taken advantage of. He went down with the base. It would be pointless to report when the perpetrator is already dead.” Bloodied scissors flashed into your memory before you looked back up to Belkar.

He nodded, placing his second hand over yours. The warmth was welcome, and surprising. “Should I order an emergency contraceptive or a spermicide?” There wasn’t a fraction of discomfort when he asked the question. Complete care and professionalism. He felt safe.

“No, I don’t need that. I had a chip placed last year.” You ran your tongue over your teeth, swallowing before speaking again. “But, um. I was wondering if…”

“Yes?”

“Commander Ren,” you said, searching his eyes for judgment, “is he… How is he?” Your bottom lip would need to heal from chewing it so much.

Another warm, small smile lifted on Belkar’s face. “It’s admirable, your passion for his care. Even in your current state. Even with those wounds you only care about his wellbeing.” Fire bit at your face, your eyes falling back to the bed. “It’s the mark of a true healer. Setting aside your own pain to lessen someone else’s. Your patient’s.”

“Yeah, well,” you raised your eyebrows, “do you know how he’s doing?”

“Before I came in to examine you, I was actually on my way to see Commander Ren. Would you like to come with me?”

“I should probably…” You trailed off, finally feeling relief when thinking about seeing Kylo and avoiding Mason. “Do you think I can walk? How did the nurse say I was healing?”

Belkar scooted out from the chair and stood, offering you a hand for support. “I actually would prefer you start walking now to discourage clotting. It’s likely you can leave here tonight once its officially been twenty-four hours since your admission.”

He made sure to fix your gown so you weren’t exposed while standing before you could tie the lower fastener. He kept a hand lightly placed over your mid-back, the other now holding your hand. “How long has it been since I got here?”

He started you on a slow pace and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Robbie may have been the one to die, but death took residence in you; a bruise splotched out over your forehead, your hair flat and knotted, exhaustion shadowing your eyes. There were multiple bruises lining your arms, their origin a mystery, though you could only suspect a majority had come from the crowd of people you’d stormed through the stairwells with. The one injury you’d grown to cherish was masked by the ill-fitting white and grey patterned gown, the article most definitely shielding an additional multitude you were still unaware of.

“The Command Shuttle arrived soon after Starkiller exploded. Ren was transferred to medbay in less than a minute and began treatment within the next five upon arrival. You fainted before then.” He led you into the hall and began walking through the maze of bustling hallways. “You’ve been resting for nearly sixteen hours.”

“Sixteen. Stars.” The pain in your leg lessened the more you walked, seeing the faces of coworkers who last saw you that fateful night.

“We monitored your intracranial pressure for the first few hours, but it seems you were only severely exhausted and mildly dehydrated. Understandably, of course.” He took a familiar left turn and the entrance to the Elite medbay came into view. “I had entered orders to start you on oral antibiotic therapy as soon as you woke up, completely a prophylactic measure, but it won’t affect anything to hold off for now.”

Belkar swiped his badge across the scanner and the doors hissed open, your heart now thumping in your chest. The last time you’d seen Kylo, you’d assumed would be the last time. Even as you kept forward, nerves twisting your intestines, you couldn’t deny the need you felt to see him again. It scared you, though, imagining how he’d react to your presence.

“Um, maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t think Commander Ren needs any more visitors than necessary.” You stopped Belkar just before he swiped to open the door to your Master’s exclusive medbay.

“It’s a good thing neither of us are visitors.” The door shot open. “We’re his providers.” Belkar stepped past the threshold. “He wouldn’t mind either way,” you followed in after him, hesitant while you stared down at the floor, “I placed him in a therapeutic coma to keep him from disturbing the stitching in his wounds.”

This news brought your eyes up as you entered the room and felt the door shut behind you. Kylo Ren, outfitted in the same gown as you, was supine on the bed, unconscious. Peaceful. His gown was left unsnapped at the shoulders, a blanket resting above his hips and tucked under his wrists. The assessment table had been replaced, an IV pole set up on his left side, a monitor reading off the contents and status of the three current running fluids: metronidazole, normal saline, and a third – separate – line running a bag of packed red blood cells. Kylo was breathing on his own, though there was an intubation kit ready on the bedside table, you noticed while routinely scanning the room for necessary emergency intervention equipment.

Belkar rid the distance between him and Ren, your own feet stopping just before the door. The physician looked at you with a creased brow but quickly dissolved his expression as he accepted your decision. After setting his datapad down he gently peeled back Kylo’s gown, resting it over the blanket and then gesturing towards him with his hands.

“The coma was a last resort,” he began. “Commander Ren was exhibiting signs of delirium when my team began his care. After nearly two hours of noncompliance I wrote a STAT order to initiate it.” Belkar sighed, this fact disappointing to him.

“When you say delirium…” Your hands strangled in and out of fists, nervous fingers smoothing over the fabric of your gown while you looked on at your sleeping patient.

The physician’s mouth had settled into somewhat of a pout, considering your question. “Ren’s health history was scattered and scant in the archives, virtually nothing resembling a family history. It was most likely the physical trauma that caused it, but…” Belkar turned his body to you while keeping his eyes on Kylo. “Whenever any of the nurses or techs would attempt to orient him during those first two hours he kept telling us he’s dead.”

A single step took you further from the door. “Was.. Did he ever say who he was talking about? A name?” This information confounded you, leaving you to wonder whose death could possibly matter so much to Kylo Ren that he’d recount while his mental defenses were weakened?

A deeper, more frustrated sigh left Belkar. “There’s been so little time and the staff is already so overworked with all the new admissions.” He uncovered one of Kylo’s legs and checked the placement and setting of the compression device wrapped around it. “I appointed a droid to sift through the archives to find anything, to see if there was any information on a Ben.”

“Ben?”

“That’s who we assume is dead, as he kept repeating.”

“You assume? What does that mean?” Another step and your eyes shot to the vitals monitor, seeing his heart rate was in the low fifties. Bradycardic, hence the fluids.

“The two phrases came sporadically. At times he would say the name, and whenever any of the care team would ask him who Ben was…”

“They’d suddenly be at a loss for words?”

Belkar’s mouth quirked for half a second, falling quickly when he shifted the blanket back to its original place. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.” He looked at you again, contemplating, narrowing his eyes. “I imagine you’ve endured such acts. I only assume given—” he gestured to your leg.

Heat flared in your cheeks and your pulse picked up. Swallowing, you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and crossed your arms. “Yes.” He didn’t seem to know why Kylo Ren had left his mark, only that he had. This brought you ease. “Yes, Commander Ren doesn’t have the best handle on his…anger. I suppose.”

Belkar swallowed, watching you. “Does he scare you?”

This caught you off guard, fingers biting into your arms when you took another step forward. “Does Kylo Ren scare me?” You took a few seconds to really think about it, feeling comfortable when you met Belkar’s eyes again, only a few paces from the bed now. “It would be counterintuitive to be afraid of my own patient.”

“Do you feel safe when you are working with him?” He was subtly attempting to screen you for abuse – well, further abuse – his face trying to hide the curiosity in his tone.

“Doctor Belkar, I do appreciate you’re worried for me. But it is misplaced. Now, would you tell me more about my patient, please?”

He was momentarily taken aback by your forward effort to change the subject. “I do apologize if my questions have made you uncomfortable. I noticed your hesitancy to be near him and thought-,”

“That’s unrelated, Doctor,” maybe in too harsh a manner, you bit his words off. You didn’t feel like telling the edited version of how you believed yourself to be the abuser when it came to Kylo, and you were sure Belkar, just as Mason, wouldn’t understand if you tried. “Will you please just tell me how he’s been doing?” A crack in your voice revealed how weak your defenses were.

The physician’s head nodded back slightly in understanding. Today was good for no one. Tensions were high. He knew you had just woken up after experiencing both known and unknown traumas. “Would you help me change his dressings while we discuss his care?” A truce, gentle and acknowledging.

Your shoulders fell with a breath you hadn’t realized was waiting to escape, your throat clearing when you walked to the drawers set up behind you. Activating one, you pulled out the necessary supplies and set them up as Belkar opened them. He walked you through the various monitors connected to Kylo – leeds stuck to his chest, a cuff around his upper right arm, the pumps over his legs, the IVs placed. He uncovered Ren’s pelvis and had you assess his catheter, mentioning the drainage bag below the bed. The antibiotics were prophylactic, just as yours would be; there had been too many unknowns around Ren’s injuries to not protect against potential sepsis.

When Belkar had completed his assessment – stopping to listen to breath and bowel sounds, motioning for you to do the same with the provided stethoscope to test your knowledge – you helped him fix the gown and sheets back over Kylo’s chest, your breath catching when your fingers brushed against his skin. The doctor tucked his datapad back under his arm and walked to the door, activating it before stepping out. However, you had remained at Kylo’s side, watching him as he slept.

“Doctor Belkar?” you called after him, not looking away from Kylo.

A sigh left him, this one fond. Kind. “A true healer.” He was thoughtful in tone. “Use the assistance indicator should you become faint. Should your friend inquire about your whereabouts-,”

“Tell him I’m okay—” you licked your lips as a tear slipped down your cheek “—tell Mason he can leave if he… Tell Mason he can leave.”

There was no response before the door hissed shut, allowing you to let free the whimper which had been stuck since you first set eyes on Kylo. You realized you’d never seen him asleep. The one night you’d shared his bed your focus just on that fact, not on observing him. That night had been the only time you’d seen his full heart, or at least more of it than you had. Now, standing beside him, still reluctant to get too close, you were crying just as he had. That night seemed like a separate lifetime, like a dream you’d only ever get to revisit in your memories now.

Tearing your eyes away from him, clearing your throat and thumbing away more tears, you ran your fingertips along the hanging fluids; the saline would need to be replaced soon, and the metronidazole was running at an accelerated rate. The blood, you checked the label, had been hung just prior to your arrival, the colloid causing you to stop and gently press into its plastic confines. A huff of weak amusement left you; it had never occurred to you that this blood would ever be used for its intended purpose, intended recipient. Seeing it running into Kylo’s veins, checking the transfusion sight for infiltration and redness, you felt a sort of sick irony settle into the room. This very fluid, more or less, would be your demise; it was capable of sustaining life, replenishing it, yet would be the very thing to end yours.

The monitor blinked in your periphery, catching your attention; his heart rate was improving, finally skimming the upper fifties, his respirations coming evenly. Steeling yourself, bunching your gown in your hands, you looked down at him. Kylo Ren, resting and vulnerable, lay below for your appraisal. Belkar had walked you through the proper routine to change his dressings, his abdominal wound and the one scraping across his shoulder healing well under the soaked gauze. The wound fixed along his face, however, had been created too awkwardly to be dressed as the others. A grafting patch had been placed along the length of the injury, a black stripe of the regenerative material precise in its placement.

There was so much pain etched into him, you wondered if his outward appearance now matched his inner, the thought choking you with a sob. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. It was silly to wait for a response, to look at him in anticipation, but you did.

It took several minutes of deliberation, but you eventually joined him in the bed, gently sitting on his right side as to not disturb anything. The tips of your right index and middle finger trailed along the ridges of the unbandaged wound, feeling his pulse in the raised flesh, landing on his forehead and brushing into his hair.

“Oh.” It startled you when your fingers got stuck in a mat at his ends. Rolling it between your fingers you found it to be dried, congealed blood. It wasn’t surprising; hair care was not the priority right now, the nurses already straining themselves without paying attention to trivial duties.

But you had time and he was here with no way of objecting, your hand cupping his face before you began gathering your supplies and setting them up. The silence was comforting for only a few minutes, soon leaving you to your thoughts, those which shuddered through you with images of Robbie and Snoke and Kylo.

“I don’t even know how we got here,” you mumbled while filling a basin with warm water. A bitter chuckle, a cough chasing it. “I do, actually. I know exactly how we got here.” Placing the full basin on the bedside table, carefully wheeling it to the head of his bed, you gazed over him. “Snoke. Mason. Rob-,” the name stuck in your throat. “The stormtrooper.”

Gentle thumbs tracked like feathers atop his cheekbones, your remaining fingers pushing into his thick locks and brushing it behind his ears. After admiring him for a moment longer you collected the necessary linen, grabbing three extra towels, four in total. Setting them up – one beneath him, another two rolled and resting atop his shoulders, and the last spread over your lap when you sat on a stool – you reached for the cup you’d earlier grabbed and filled it with water.

“I should’ve told you.” It seemed you would never stop crying; a tear struck his forehead as you poured the first cup over his head, ensuring to guard his eyes and ears. “I never… Snoke threatened Mason. He threatened him and all I could think was that I wouldn’t allow someone else to endure punishment meant for me.” Kylo’s hair darkened as it wet, the towel beneath him turning pink with diluted blood. “That wouldn’t be fair. Someone suffering because my own mistakes? No. No, that would be selfish. Selfish and, and… I don’t know.” A sigh and a swallow. “I don’t know.”

With a second cup you wet the rest of his locks and lathered shampoo between your hands. “I woke up yesterday hating you, wishing I was dead so I didn’t have to see you after that day. I fucking hate him so much!” Your chin trembled in anger, imagining Snoke knowing this was happening, wondering how much he really knew, if he could see while Kylo slept. “And it wasn’t even… That’s what I hate the most. You had so little say in it, so little choice and I spent a whole month, wasted so much time, hating the wrong person. Hating you.”

Rolling his ends between your fingers, you scrubbed at the mats until they became loose. “I wish you could know that everything I told you was a lie. You were right about it all. I don’t hate you.” Words came easier, tears still streaming with ease, yet your throat clearing with each admission. “Maybe in the beginning when I didn’t know so much, when I didn’t know you. Maybe then I had wanted to, but it’s an impossibility now. Today made me realize that.” A pause while you watched his chest tide, stopping to recount the apology you’d known to give him, remembering how it felt as he held you – broken, raw – in his arms. “Today made me realize a lot of things.”

The last mat had been the toughest, your fingers rolling and rubbing for nearly five minutes until it softened. “Can I… I mean, I know you can’t answer, but…” Your throat got thick again, burning as you tried to swallow a sob. Closing your eyes, you dropped the subject, not wanting to recount the event to even an absent mind yet.

Clearing your throat, you began again, instead recalling the various mentions of Kylo Ren’s history during the past day. “Maybe I don’t know as much about you as others do, though.” Water drenched the towel below his head as you massaged the soap out of his hair, your pulse quickening as you thought about your next question. “The old man. The one on Jakku… He mentioned something about a time before Kylo Ren, or something like that. How did he even know you? How did you know him?”

Working your way through his hair, you rinsed until there were no bubbles remaining. Questioning him felt foreign; if he were awake he would have surely stopped you from continuing. Or from starting at all. But you pressed on, wanting to distract yourself from the reality that lurked in the back of your mind.

“And then later, when I…” Warmth spread through you at the memory of his bed, him setting you there, holding onto him until he left. You tried to hide the pain in your throat, knowing if you allowed yourself to sob once you’d surely lose the ability to stop. “I heard you. When you were speaking to someone, talking to your grandfather. Was he in there with you? Or were you on a commlink?” You shrugged, knowing all of these inquiries were in vain. “My maternal grandfather passed away before I began university. I never met the other one. Something about family secrets and drama and blah blah blah.”

Another tear fell to Kylo’s face, remembering the pain you’d felt losing someone for the first time, remembering how helpless you were to change anything. A sigh of desperate defeat left you. “I must be cursed. A true healer? Maybe in another life. In this one it seems I can only save a life in turn for another, be it mine or someone I care about.”

After rinsing your hands in the basin, you gathered conditioner on the tips of your fingers and began working it into the now clean ends. A whimper came in place of the stuck sob, breathing becoming difficult as you denied it life. “You said that to me, remember? The night I had gone to Mason. Not exactly but, you said something along the lines of me only listening when the things I value are threatened. It seems the two things go hand in hand; I can’t help anyone without hurting someone else, I can’t make a decision without being forced into it, without being threatened should I make one wrong choice.”

A hand smoothed over the last remaining tendril of hair, soft with the new product, your chest heavy with regret and hindsight. “You wanted me to give my whole self to the First Order. I did, Kylo. And now… I have nothing. There’s nothing left and it’s my fault.” Mason’s worried expression flitted into your mind’s eye. “And if I do have anything left… It’s nothing I want.” Closing your eyes, you ran the pad of your thumb along the rim of the cup, clutching it to your chest. “I wish I could go back. Earlier when I… When I came home. I wish I had told you then. If I had, maybe neither of us would be pawns in Snoke’s game. If I’d told you, maybe I wouldn’t have been-,”

Pain speared you with daggers of rejection. There was no easy or gentle way to confront the truth. No matter if you’d briefly mentioned it with Belkar earlier; to verbalize it, to say out loud what had gone one, scared you. It made it real, gave it power and life. But this would be the only way you’d get to confess to it; soon you’d be alone, left to relive the act over and over until it would be all that remained. It would consume you if you let it.

“I was raped.” You said it before it got stuck again. Finally, after choking on it for so long, that sob broke free, cries grating against your sore throat. “It was the stormtrooper. The one you’d set out to protect me from. The one Snoke had told me you’d been thinking about.” A shaky hand collected another cup of water and let it rinse the conditioner away. “RB-6745. Robbie. Shit! I’m so, so stupid! I’m so dumb I wish I could fucking die! It would be so much easier if I could just stop…existing, if I could just stop breathing it would all be- none of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t- damn it!” A roar tore through clenched teeth before you dragged the towel set across your lap and smothered it against your face.

Scream after scream after scream left you, each one more painful than the last, more broken than the last. The towel collected what tears had set on your cheeks, your voice diminishing before you had the sense to stop yourself from continuing. With the damp cloth draped over your hands, you rested your head in your palms, heaves and hiccups unbidden and unrelenting.

“I gave him a name, Kylo. I did. I gave him a name and I started all of this,” muffled, you finally confronted the truth you had been so unwilling to acknowledge. A bitter crack of laughter left. “You will only ever be the start and end of the issue,” you echoed Snoke, voice distant and decimated. “Yeah, well. I guess he was right. I did start it.” Pulling the towel from your face, staring down at the peace painted over your Master, a cold shiver stalled your lungs. “I started it. And I ended it.”

Silence once more met you with suffocation. Studying Kylo’s face – noticing his eyelashes, the cracked nature of his dry lips, finding a fondness in the angle of his nose – you took a deep breath and settled into your new reality, accepting it as it would be, allowing yourself to begin healing as he was before you. “I killed him. I left him to bleed out just before Starkiller exploded. He’s dead.”

The last phrase reminded you as you finished your task, patting the towel into his hair, lifting his head to fully dry him. “Whoever Ben is… and if he’s dead or not –” you rested the towel over your left thigh “—I wonder if I knew him.” Another thought of Kylo’s figurative family. “I wonder if he knew you.”

Once you left here your privileges as his provider would be revoked; when he would wake and sign the proper documents, notify the necessary people, every tie you had to him would be severed. So, to indulge in one last moment, you parted a triangle of hair from the center of his hairline, separated it into three equal sections, and began the simple pattern: left over middle, right over middle, adding hair with each repetition to create a continuous, tight braid. Aside from giving you more time with him, the style would discourage any new mats from forming.

Repeating this process two more times, one more on each side of his head, you made sure that the hair that couldn’t be contained was brushed and flat beneath him. You set a towel under his head to collect any remaining moisture and prevent knotting. The clean-up process was leisurely, your focus shifting to his monitor every now and then to see he was no longer bradycardic. The last time you checked the monitor, a normal sinus rhythm tracing along the display, you found his pulse had risen to sixty-seven beats per minute.

Finished clearing the last of your mess, you sat on the stool, still at the head of his bed. No matter the new addition setting into features – though, in a way, it suited him well – you admired him; here he was at peace. Resting. Healing. The sobs had died out but tears were still liberal in their formation, another falling to hit the inner corner of his right eye. You collected it, chewing your lip before leaning down and again tracing along the outer region of the wound.

Kylo’s breath warmed over your forehead in the proximity, your own catching as it all became too much. Placing your hands on either side of his face so the tips of your fingers held loosely over his jaw, you brought your lips to rest on his. Kylo couldn’t reciprocate it, you knew, but this would be your goodbye.

“I wish I could have given you more than this,” you whispered, lips brushing against his own. “More than anything, Kylo, I wanted to give you more than this.”

Trembling lips pressed into his, your tears reviving the dry flesh, a whimper leaving when he remained still. He would never kiss you back again, the thought piercing as warmth slipped from your cheeks and onto his. However long you stayed like this, your face on his, you tried to silence the reality looming over you. But you couldn’t stay here forever, and you’d probably been gone for far too long already.

Leaning up from him your nose drew a faint line up his bridge, feather-light lips setting against his forehead in a final show of unrequited adoration. With a breath your spine straightened, eyes strict in their effort to keep forward. There was no moment of hesitancy as you passed the threshold and left the Elite wing; if you had indulged in a final glance, you knew you’d have never left.

On the journey back to your room – head hung low, teeth rooted in an effort to stop the trembling of your bottom lip – you met a stiff wall of muscle as someone exited a room, your feet stumbling back before you completely fell backwards, landing on your tailbone. The room spun when you opened your eyes after hitting the floor, a gloved hand extending down and offering you assistance. Taking it, you looked up to find General Hux.

He looked as you did, exhaustion heavy in his features before he was struck by your identity. He didn’t recoil, though, pulling you up and even steadying you for a couple seconds. Hux’s eyes darted to the bandage on your forehead and quickly over your gown, narrowing only slightly when he appraised the red rims of your own. He remained silent, retracting his hand as he nodded once.

“Officer,” he acknowledged. “I heard about your fainting spell.” His tone lacked the animosity you had come to expect.

You took hold of the wall support, looking up at him, confused at his sudden civility. “Oh.” It was the best you could do right now.

Something about him seemed off. Even as he remained more guarded than most humans you knew, it appeared as though something had him worried. Maybe it was the fall out from Starkiller that had him acting out. He had just lost men.

“Is there an official count yet?” you asked, filling the silence.

Hux swallowed, the corners of his mouth dipping before he returned to his normal façade, his shoulder going up and back when his stance shifted. “Nice work during the transport.”

“Thank…you. Uh, thank you, General.”

Another nod and he turned away from you and walked out of sight. A crease bit at your brow. How strange. Or maybe it wasn’t. The last twenty-four hours had been less than favorable for the entire First Order. Nobody could be expected to be at their best right now. Or even at their normal.

Before you started down the hall, your periphery caught view of the room where Hux had come, your heart falling. Confusion was drowned by new concern. Talia was slumped into her shoulder, asleep while she sat upright, both arms resting at her sides to reveal bruises from multiple IV attempts. There was one line running from her left forearm which led up to a bag of fluids, the contents of which you couldn’t read from a distance.

Peaking around the hall, you ducked into her room and clicked the door shut with your back, keeping the volume to a minimum as to not wake her. It seemed like a week had passed since you saw her seize, Snoke’s men abducting you before you could aid in her care. It had been less than a full day.

Walking up to her right side you noted the oxygen secured over her ears, a nasal cannula delivering two liters per minute. Nothing excessive. That was good. But still curious. The fluid bag was filled with electrolyte replacement, another bag hanging empty behind it. Looking for more clues, you found the information board to be devoid of any recent updates, only indicating her nurse and the continuation of the current fluids. There was a check mark next to a note which read sterile urine specimen, CBC, CMP.

When you kicked your foot under her bed, swinging it mindlessly while holding onto the upper bed rail, something skidded beneath your sock. In a manner which didn’t stress your wounds, you knelt to the ground and picked up the item. It was a white square, shiny material which glinted under the harsh fluorescents. Holding one corner, it unfolded to reveal a second half. Turning it over, eyes blinking back to make sure you were reading the images correctly.

Everything was in the right spot, every label and measurement and identifier correct and official. Dropping completely to the floor, your legs splayed across each other, you peaked up at your friend and back to the printed picture multiple times, not knowing what to make of the situation.

Talia was pregnant.

[obsidianfr3sk]

The Origins (Chapter 2)

Summary:  Before the Renegades put an end to the Age of Anarchy, they were six kids trying to survive day by day in a city ruled by chaos and desolation. Is there a space for hope and kindness somewhere in Gatlon City? Maybe.

AO3link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25123756/chapters/61113496#workskin

Today’s protagonist is... GEORGIA RAWLES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. I think you can alredy tell that I am kind of pairing the OG team with each other (not in a romantic way, I swear) so those two member’s stories will be totally realted, but all of them are interconnected in one way or another. Next chapter will be from Kasumi’s perspective, then Evander’s, Tamaya’s, and last, but not least, Hugh’s.

Also, Grammarly is a bitch, so if anyone can recommend me a good english grammar checker, I will be forever greatfull.

And, guys, thank you so much for the support! Every reblog and every like means the world to me <3 

The world that we design

Age of Anarchy

Year 3

Her mother had been very clear to her. Georgia couldn't tell anyone what they were going to do Saturday morning at the Rae house. She couldn't tell her classmates, her teachers, or the gardener with whom she got along so well. If she told anyone, her mother promised that she would burn each of her mystery books and all of her dolls in the fireplace. Georgia knew that her mother was not one to make promises that they would not keep. It was not worth the risk.

After making her swear that she would keep the secret, she told her to choose a toy or a book that she wanted to show Tamaya Rae. Georgia let out a startled cry and started asking hundreds of questions: What was Tamaya Rae like? Had she seen her? How old was she? Was she as pretty as Mrs. Rae, or did she have Mr. Rae's hideous nose? Why did she never leave her home? Was it because of her allergy to the sun? How can you be allergic to the sun?

Her mother lost her patience and sent her to her room.

"Young girls should not bother their mothers with so many questions," she exclaimed.

Georgia tightened her jaw. If her father had been there, he would have defended her. He always let her ask all the questions she wanted.

On Saturday, before leaving, she looked in the huge mirror they had in the living room. With her pink dress and pearl hair clips, it was almost as if Ace Anarchy had not taken over the city three years ago.

Were they poor? No. Georgia went to a private school, her house was in a decent area, and they could even afford to have a maid and a gardener. She knew they were rich. But they used to be even richer.

As soon as they arrived, an employee opened the door to the garden of the Rae house. It used to be prettier, but they still had those roses that she liked so much. That, and the small tower that protruded from the ceiling, gave it an enchanted castle look, perfect setting for the scandalous murder of the king's lover.

"You're right," her mom laughed. “Just don’t tell Tamaya you said that.” And she rang.

Georgia looked out into the garden once more. There was a space where a car would fit perfectly, but there was no car. She didn't think it was because they didn't have one. She had seen the Rae arrive at the church in a dented (but elegant) black car.

Before she can ask her mother, Mrs. Rae opened the door.

"Hello Tara," she greeted with a smile on her red lips. "Good morning Georgia. Come in, come in."

The Rae family had managed to keep their most beautiful things. The ones that caught her attention the most were the chandelier, an old piano, green velvet armchairs, and an antique porcelain vase. Mrs. Rae was talking to her mother when Georgia asked:

"Where's Tamaya?"

Her mother seemed shocked at the interruption, but Mrs. Rae was very light about it.

"Oh sure," she whispered. "Come, follow me. Tara, my dear, why don't you go ahead in the kitchen? Tea should be ready by now."

Tara gave one last look at her daughter before leaving.

Mrs. Rae guided her to the second floor. There was a hallway full of doors, but one stood out from all of them. It was silver with carved emerald details. Behind it, there was a large circular room, with five-meter bookcases covering her even higher walls and a larger bed than Georgia's, covered in cushions with too much lace.

She was watching how the tower was on the inside.

It would be a much prettier room if it wasn't dark.

"Tamaya, your friend has arrived."

Mrs. Rae turned on the light. As soon as her eyes managed to experience the new lighting, Georgia understood why Tamaya did not go to school with her.

Sitting around a crowd of dolls, sipping tea among them, Tamaya Rae looked at her with those amber eyes, identical to her mother's. She wore a green floral dress and her dark hair fell gently over her shoulders. She would have looked angelic, if not for the satiety in her gaze and the huge black wings that came out of her back.

"Tamaya, this is Georgia," said Mrs. Rae with a light push, "Tara Rawle's daughter."

"Hello…”

Tamaya did not change her expression.

"Well, have fun," exclaimed Mrs. Rae after ten seconds of awkward silence. There was too much joy in her words to be true. "Tamaya, behave yourself."

Georgia believed that when Mrs. Rae left, Tamaya was going to pounce on her and rip the skin off her face. Fortunately, that was not the case.

She did nothing.

Literally nothing. She just kept watching her in complete silence.

“Hi Tamaya," Georgia said a little more confidently than before." I'm Georgia. "

"I know."

"Um…"

Tamaya lost interest in her and returned her attention to her dolls. They were drinking real tea.

"Can I join your tea party?" Georgia asked.

"It is not a tea party," Tamaya snapped annoyed, "it is a gathering of the Gatlon City Detective Department."

"Can I join the Gatlon City Detective Department meeting?"

"I'm afraid only those who are part of the department can participate. It is a very important case. I'm sorry."

From her tone of voice, Georgia doubted she was sorry. But she liked that game.

"What do I have to do to join the department, then?"

"We have no openings at this time."

Georgia took a doll with golden curls and said in an extremely shrill voice:

"I quit, Detective Rae, I can't take it anymore."

She dropped the doll onto the bed. To her surprise, Tamaya was unimpressed by a magnificent imitation of a doll's voice. What's more, she looked more fed up than ever.

"You can't join the department. It's my last word."

For some reason, those words hurt Georgia more than she expected. But, as her mother said, it was not worth staying in a place where they did not want her.

"Well, I didn't even want to join anyway," she spat, clutching at her purse.

"Perfect. It looks like we're both on the same page."

"That's right! And playing with dolls is for little girls. I'm already a woman. I had my first period two weeks ago."

"I had mine three weeks ago," said Tamaya. "And frankly, you're not behaving like a woman right now."

Georgia knew she couldn't go out and tell her mother that she already wanted to leave. But she would no longer stand to be with a girl as rude and cruel as Tamaya Rae. Therefore, she decided to fly off and sit on one of the wooden beams that supported the roof of the tower. She took her book out of the purse and began to read it, willing to stay there the rest of the two hours they were going be in that house, without speaking to Tamaya again.

However, she immediately noticed Tamaya was looking at her, with her jaw dropped to the floor.

"What?" Georgia asked from the wooden beam.

"You can fly," Tamaya stammered.

Georgia shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"You are a prodigy."

She didn’t answer.

"But then why do you look so...?"

Suspense.

"So what?" she asked. Curiosity was going to kill her if she didn't ask.

"So normal?"

Georgia frowned.

"What do you mean normal?"

"My mom says prodigies always have something that gives them away," she replied. "An unusual eye color, hands too big or ... well, you know."

"Wings."

Tamaya nodded. Georgia had never heard anything so stupid. (Or maybe she had, but she was too upset with Tamaya to remember.)

"Well, your mom is a liar."

Tamaya threw a marble at her with such force that it hit her knee.

"My mom is not a liar!"

"Sorry, but prodigies are not too different from other people," Georgia replied. "What she told you is untrue. How do you call that? I will tell you: it is called a lie. Therefore, your mom is a liar. I rest my case.”

For a second, Tamaya's expression seemed sad.

"But I am too different."

That was when Georgia understood it. It was not just any lie; it was a white lie. Of those that she constantly said. "That dress fits her very well, ma'am." "Oh, but of course I like the bean stew, sir." "Yes, I have studied for the exam, teacher."

"A lie is still a lie, Georgia," she imagined her father reminding her, "no matter what the intention."

"You're not that different," said Georgia.

"Now you are the liar."

"I am not a liar," she defended herself.

"Tell me then. What makes me not that different?”

Georgia thought she would have to use all the skills she had in telling white lies. She stared at the girl below her for a good ten seconds, before realizing there would probably be no need to lie.

"You have pretty hair," said Georgia. "And your dress is beautiful. It shows you have an excellent sense of fashion."

Tamaya smiled.

"You also have a good sense of fashion. I can tell because of your underpants."

Georgia flushed and crossed her legs.

"Tamaya, you creep!”

Tamaya laughed out loud, and Georgia soon joined her. She had to admit it was funny.

"I hardly like wearing dresses," she explained. "They are very uncomfortable to use when I fly."

"I don't like dresses at all," Tamaya replied, "but my mom says I look prettier with them."

“Well, mine says true beauty is within. Wear whatever you want.

"Do you wear whatever you want?"

Georgia nodded.

"What do you use for flying?"

"When I fly, it is at home, when my mother is not around," he explained. "Pants are the most appropriate clothes for flying. What do you use to fly?"

"I do not know how to do it."

Georgia pretended to pass out from the shock.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. My dad won't let me," Tamaya explained sadly. "He thinks I should keep my feet on the ground.”

"Literally."

"Literally, yes."

"That’s unfair.”

"He doesn't know you're here either."

Georgia almost passed out, but this time, for real.

"How so?"

"Yes. My mom invited you because she thought it was a good idea that I talk with someone who doesn't have a head made of plastic," Tamaya explained. "But my dad didn't want to."

"Your dad sounds like a bad guy," she snapped.

For a second, she believed Tamaya would throw her another marble. Instead, she shrugged and muttered:

"He probably is."

"And what did you want?"

"About what?"

"Did you want me to come to play?"

"I didn't care," Tamaya replied. "My dolls have been my only friends in these twelve years of my life, and they have never disappointed me. They could have remained my friends for much longer."

She did not believe it. If she had to be locked in a room, with the dolls as her only company, she would probably go crazy. Of course, she loved her dolls, but not that much. Also, she did not want Tamaya to go crazy. Although her teachers told her that she had a strange ability to drive crazy everyone who ran into her. However, she was sure they used "drive crazy" in the good sense of the word.

She got off the beam and took the doll she had left on the bed.

"What did you say?" she asked the doll. She brought her face close to her ear like the doll was telling her a secret. "Are you sure that's what you want? Okay, I'll let her know." Tamaya looked puzzled. "Detective Egerton says she is very sorry that things ended like this between her and the Detective Department. She knows she cannot fix her mistakes, but she has chosen me as her replacement." She looked at the doll once more, wiping the fake tears from her cheeks. "Oh, you don't know how honored I am, Stella. I promise I'll make you proud."

"Molly," Tamaya corrected.

"Oh, you don't know how honored I am, Molly," Georgia repeated. "I promise I’ll make you proud."

"Okay, Georgia, you can join the team," Tamaya agreed. "But with one condition."

"What is that condition?"

Tamaya slightly flapped her wings. She had a spark in her eyes.

A spark of madness.

"That you teach me how to fly."

Georgia did not stop to think about the problem she would have with the Rae if they discovered she was teaching her daughter to fly. She also didn't remember she had no idea how to explain Tamaya the rules behind the flight. She didn’t even know the rules behind flying. The only thing on her mind at the time was how cool it would be to have a prodigy friend with a power similar to hers and was as much out of her mind as she was.

"I agree. Now, what case are we working on?"

Tamaya poured her a cup of tea.

"Do you remember Mayor Everhart's first wife?" Georgia remembered and nodded. Her mom had mentioned her, yes. "She went to the hospital when she was about to have her baby, nine years ago, right? She came back, but the baby didn't. Supposedly, he was born dead. Two days later, Mrs. Everhart appears dead in her own home. The cause? Suicide… But, was it really suicide? "

Again, that suspense... And now, mystery. Georgia's two favorite things in one person.

[imagine-loki]

Gifted

Title: Gifted (Sequel to Giftless)

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 52/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine that you are Stark’s niece and you secretly share a strong relationship with Loki since he entered the crew. One day you get hurt so bad during a mission that you are about to die.  Loki knows a spell that will save you and share his immortality with you but you and he will be linked forever sharing thoughts, pain, emotions…

RATING: T NOTES/WARNINGS:  Also on AO3 click here

You woke Loki way earlier than he wanted to get up the next morning. In fact, it was only about two hours after you had finally gone to bed the night before. “Sig~” he growled, not bothering to open his eyes. You laughed as you got out of the bed, to better wrestle him out of the bed to join you. “We just went to bed,”

“C’mon, Lo, pajama party downstairs. It’s tradition,” you told him, grabbing his hand to drag him out of the bed.

“No, Sig,” he grumbled, still not bothering to open his eyes. You ripped the blankets off of him. He ignored you. Silly frost giant was unaffected by the cold.

“If you don’t get up on your own, I’m going to carry you,” you threatened.

“You cannot,” he replied matter of factly. “Come back to bed,” he insisted, curling up to better go back to sleep.

You shrugged, unperturbed. “You’re choice,” you teased. He cracked open an eye at that, but otherwise didn’t move. He was calling your bluff. You stepped forward back toward the bed. He shut his eye, thinking you were wisely coming back to bed. He was wrong. You grabbed the arm and leg of one side of his body and hefted his weight over your shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He yelped when you lifted him from the bed. He wasn’t expecting you to succeed. You laughed, checked your balance, and proceeded to walk from the suite.

“You have made your point. Put me down!” Loki protested from where he was carefully not squirming as he didn’t want to be dropped.  

“Stop squirming,” you told him firmly as you stomped across the hall to the suite that was actually his. It was hard to walk gracefully when you had a full grown man draped across your shoulders. “You made your choice,” you reminded him pleasantly as you pounded on Loki’s suite door with your free hand. Thor and Sif were staying there while they were in town.  Thor used to have his own suite, but he’d been living on Asgard exclusively for awhile when he had to take on his proper responsibilities. 

Thor finally came to the door to answer your pounding. “Morning Thor,” you greeted him brightly, while he gaped at the scene of you with a Loki draped over your shoulders. “We’re all meeting downstairs in five minutes for a pajama party. It’s tradition the morning after the ball,” you explained. Thor looked pointedly at the pouting Loki stuck on your shoulders. “He had a choice of getting up or being carried,” you explained, grinning up at Thor, who usually used that tactic on Loki. Thor just laughed.

“Thor! She refuses to put me down. Help me, brother!” Loki whined, sounding pitiful and plaintive. 

“Little Brother, I, for one, am smart enough not to argue with your darling soulbond. She is frightening when angered,” Thor replied pleasantly, with a small bow to you. You gave him a head bow in return, accepting his compliment. “Would you like assistance, sister dear? I know he can be quite troublesome,”

“I’ve got him. He’s behaving for me. Thanks for the offer though,” you replied with a grin.

“You are not carrying me down the stairs! You will break both of our necks!” Loki protested.

“Of course I’m not,” you replied sweetly. You waved to Thor and teleported yourself and Loki downstairs to the commonroom.

There were roars of laughter and cheers of “Sigyn!” from the supers already gathered. You very carefully set Loki on your couch. He huffed indignantly and it took quite a few kisses to thaw him out again.

“How did you do that?” he asked grumpily. He finally moved over on the couch so you could join him. You poured both of you cups of coffee from one of the many pots spread around the room and got you each a plate of coffee cakes and cinnamon rolls. These were also spread around the room. Helene was well prepared for you to all be up early for this.

“What? I’ve carried you before,” you protested. Just because you were small didn’t mean you were a weakling. Loki just gave you a look. “Oh, right, you were unconscious for that event. It was in Asgard, right after you escaped from Balder. You had teleported to me and then passed out in the snow because of that stupid power he put in me,” you explained. He nodded. “You had also neglected to tell me that because you’re Jotun you wouldn’t freeze in the cold, so I had to carry you to a cave and try to make a fire,” you added. 

“I did wonder, though we were a bit distracted at the time. So why are we having a pajama party at…5am?” he asked, checking the clock on the wall. He was less grumpy now that he’d gotten some coffee in him. 

You gestured to the TVs which were all on the same station. “Channel 9 does this for us every year. Since we’re all at the ball, we can’t watch the footage, so they reair it at 5am the morning after so we can watch it. We’ve made a pajama party out of it,” Thor and Sif joined you a minute later. Sif was half-asleep, cradled in Thor’s arms. You smiled and moved closer to Loki on the couch so they had plenty of room. You also made sure they had coffee and breakfast foods and explained the party again for their benefit.

“It’s starting!” Nat called. A hush fell over the crowd while you all watched the footage from the night before.

“Nat, your dress was so pretty!” you called back from where you were curling up more comfortably with Loki.

“Yeah it was!” Nat agreed. “Though you and loverboy stole the show,” she grumbled, causing everyone to laugh.

The news crew announced every super as they appeared in the procession, though admittedly you and Loki got more air time than most of the others. Tony and Pepper got a lot of airtime too. The rest of the events were pretty standard, showing off the supers dancing, various celebrities in the crowd, all of the costumes and pretty masks.

Finally came the event you were all waiting to watch: the waltz. Everyone’s eyes were glued to the screen. You had all worked our asses off all of the previous month to get the dance just right. It was just as gorgeous as you had imagined. Everyone’s hard work was obvious. The dance was a lot longer than it had felt while you were performing it. The camera crew focused on the second group as they split off, and then the third when they split off, and finally on yourself and Loki when you did the new set of moves, and finally the proposal.

After your pajama party, you had to send Thor and Sif back home. They had only come to visit for the ball. Loki sent gave them an illusion to take with them so they could show the proposal to Frigga. She would be glad to see it. “The time is coming,” Sif reminded you in a whisper when she hugged you goodbye. “Do not forget we are available to help and do not be afraid to call on us for aid.” All you could do was nod and wish them a safe journey home.

*

You spent the next couple of weeks studying for your finals. It was cheating to let Loki read your textbooks too, since he had a photographic memory and anything he learned you not only learned too, but had access to later through the soulbond. You didn’t care, as long as you knew the information, it didn’t matter how you learned it.

You also spent all day the Saturday before exams cleaning out your apartment. You were giving it up at the end of the semester. You were never there anymore since Loki had come back. There was no reason to keep it, especially when you teleported to class most of the time anyway. After everything was sorted, you used magic and a fancy spell to put everything in storage or back in your room. The landlord at least couldn’t complain about the apartment, since it was cleaner now than it had been when you moved in. Magic was a great thing.

*

You greeted Loki with a kiss after your last exam. He was holding takeout bags of Chinese. He had come to like the cute little Chinese restaurant on campus and agreed to meet you in the student center after your exam. You were standing in the middle of the most crowded building on campus, kissing like the silly college kids you appeared to be, and ignoring the kids taking pictures of you when they recognized one or both of you.

Then suddenly Loki shoved you hard away from him, his eyes wide in shock.

You stumbled backwards and fell hard on your ass, unprepared to be shoved away from him. That was so unlike him. “Lo?” you started asking, looking up to see what was going on.

The Chinese food bags crashed to the floor as screams erupted around you.

“Loki! No!” you screamed when the image in front of you finally made sense, finally cleared in your mind. Loki was falling, a spear through his chest, lightning coursing through his body, though you didn’t know from where. He had shoved you away to save you from being impaled too. The shield you had put into his watch was glowing around him, but it hadn’t helped. 

There was only one reason for it not to have helped.  Loki’s magic, most of your magic, didn’t work against Balder.

You couldn’t focus on Balder right then though.

You ran to Loki, catching him before he hit the ground. Your shield recognized you and let you in without hesitation. “Loki? Loki! Stay with me!” you ordered him. You felt the drain of your own power as the soulbond fought to save him. You pulled the spear from his chest, trying not to think about the whimper of pain that was all he could manage. “I’m sorry, love,” you whispered as you placed one glowing blue hand to the wound. You had to get him stable. Then you had to do your job. You yanked your phone out of your pocket. “Call backup!” you snapped at it. You usually hated phone voice commands, but this one was useful and all of the team’s phones were programmed to recognize the command. 

“I told you you would come for you, pet,” Balder’s voice boomed, seeming to come from all around you. 

Shit. 

You were out of time. 

You set a healing spell on Loki, forcing it to keep working as you broke physical contact and turned to face where Balder’s voice had come from.

You were grateful that the civilians had run, and pissed at Balder for attacking you when you would be least prepared for it. You should have been safe here. It was an unspoken rule, even among the villains. They didn’t attack schools. No matter how evil they were, no matter what, they left the kids, even the college kids, out of their battles. Balder had ignored those rules completely by attacking you there.

Loki was still unconscious at your feet, your healing magic slowly knitting him back together. You were alone in this until backup arrived. “I’m sorry, Lo,” you whispered. He would hate you for this. You knelt again, murmuring a spell he had used on you once. A portal would appear below him, that would drop him in the infirmary.

Before you had finished, before the portal had opened, Balder attacked. 

You threw up shields of fire around you. Normal shields wouldn’t work against Balder. Loki’s magic, and any magic you had gained from Loki through the soulbond wouldn’t work against Balder. You could only use your own natural abilities.  

Balder hesitated at the fire shield. “You need some new tricks, pet,” he sneered, reaching a hand through the flames. You only barely ducked in time to not get electrocuted by his touch. His magic and powers still worked perfectly fine against you. It was only Loki who was immune. You threw a dagger at Balder and he backed away from your shield. You threw more healing magic into Loki, watching as the wound closed. You didn’t care how fast it was draining your power. You needed help to defeat Balder.

/Wake up, Loki!/ you shouted into his mind. He was finally stirring. Thank all the gods.

You spent too long in one spot while you were healing Loki. You had trusted in the fire to protect you. You should have known better.  Balder had reached through it already.  Balder reached through and grabbed you, ignoring the pain the flames must have caused him, holding you by the throat off of the ground. You pulled a dagger and stabbed him with it out of reflex. He howled in rage and pain and threw you across the room into a wall. Your vision swam and you cried out in pain as the blow broke through all of your shielding. You concentration on the flame shield around Loki had been shot when your head hit the wall and the shield failed.  

You teleported back over to Loki, though the effort made you dizzy and almost sick. You’d hit your head sickeningly hard and you knew it was bad.  Your head was bleeding, bad, the blood dripping to the floor, your vision was doubled and blurry. This was bad.

There were clones of Balder everywhere.

You didn’t know if they were clones or if your vision was so messed up from your head wound.

You had three powers of your own and you used all of them then. None of them seemed to do any good, despite that you were the strongest super in existence. Most of your powers just didn’t work against Balder since you’d gotten them from Loki.

“Give up, pet. You will kill yourself, and my brother if you do not,” one of the Balders said reasonably. 

You threw a dagger and fireball at it.

You nearly cried in relief when your reinforcements came. You crouched over Loki, defending him with fire and daggers while your head and the room spun.

You didn’t see the lightning from one of the clones until it was too late. It went straight through your chest, throwing you into Tony. You gasped, trying to breathe as the energy vibrated its way through you. Tony set you gently on the ground. “Stay down, Sig,” he ordered, turning to the fight when your life wasn’t in immediate danger.  Supers were stronger than normal humans, so even though you were bleeding from a massive head wound and had just gotten shocked with lightning, you were down but not in immediate mortal danger.  

You obeyed Tony for about thirty seconds while you fought to breathe again. You couldn’t move until the energy faded, until your heart decided to work properly again, until you could at least breathe.

Those thirty seconds were too long.

You struggled back to your feet, fighting for every movement.

“Loki! NO!” you screamed, stumbling a few steps forward, as you threw more fireballs. One of Balder’s clones had gotten to Loki. You realized as all of the other clones vanished that this was the real one.  Loki was struggling to his feet, a dagger drawn. Balder grabbed him by the throat, holding him off of the ground.

“You will join me soon, little pet, if you want your soulbond back in one piece, anyway,” Balder told you softly, almost kindly. Before any of you could do anything, he teleported away, still holding your Loki.

In an instant they were gone.

“LOKI! NO!” you wailed, trying to summon the strength to teleport after them. Tony grabbed you, holding you in place.

“Kat, no, we need a plan of attack,”

“I have a plan. Attack,” you snarled at him, throwing his own words from years ago back at him.. “He took Loki!”

“I know. And we will get him back, I promise you. But you’re in no shape to fight. Loki will be fine while you heal and we regroup. We need a plan to go after Balder He will decimate us if we just go running off half-cocked,” Tony was too reasonable for once. He had to be.  He knew you were unreasonable when love was involved.  He was the same way and he loved you too much to let you go.  You knew he was right, but it felt like giving up, not to run off to save Loki. Before you could argue again, Tony knocked the daggers from your hands and swept you up into his arms. You didn’t have the strength to fight him. You were too dizzy from the head wound to even try. “The kids will clean up here. C’mon imp, off to the infirmary, then we can go save Loki,” 

You’d failed.  

You’d failed Loki. Failed your soulbond, your fiancé, your love.

You had to get him back.

The world swam around you and went black.  Saving Loki would have to wait until you were capable. 

Hopefully it would be soon enough.

[luvdsc]

hello hello!! its definitely been a while hasn’t it? 🌱 how have you been?? i’ve been all over the place (hence why its taken me so damn long to send in an ask) but i’ve finally finished all my classes for this semester!! yay!!! (can i get a whoop whoop 🥳) all i have left are a few tests/exams and i’ll be all done for the year 🌸 well that’s enough about me, i wanna hear about you!! how’s life been? have you been taking enough breaks and resting loads? (don’t forget to hydrate💧) (1/5)

congratulations on pulling winwin and jeno for your pcs!! im so happy for you *wipes tear of joy* 🤧 and also a huge huge well deserved congrats on being asked to lead a whole division!! 🎉 i knew all your hard work would pay off, and look where you are now!! 🙌🏻 im so so so proud and glad for you love ❤️ i also happened to see one of your asks about a lemon loaf? it looks super good omg if you’re willing to share the recipe im so down to try it out once im clear with all my uni stuff 🥺 (2/5)

definitely wanting to get back into the mood with baking once everything calms back down, it’ll also be fun to start cracking on christmas cakes 🎄 what are some of your favourite christmas bakes? (3/5)

also this is a super late response to the from home mv but!!! it was so so good omg the visuals the aesthetics 🙌🏻 everyone looked so good and the mv is definitely one of my fave mvs ever 😍 the baby pictures and voiceover that they included too?!?!? i legit almost started ugly crying that was such a sweet moment 🥺😭 but also yeah i wished they incorporated all their languages in the song, but hopefully the next album will have something similar where they’ll include the others!! 🙏🏻 (4/5)

anyways seeing as im sending this in the middle of the week (its wednesday morning at 2.03am for me), i hope you have a great rest of the week and get to rest loads on the weekend!! if you celebrated halloween last week, i hope you had fun 🍁 i hope work isn’t too hard on you and that you’re doing well🌼 until next time ~ sending you love💗 - ✨ (5/5)

✿ ✿ ✿

omg hello, honey bee!!! 💓 i’ve been doing good! it’s finally the weekend, and i completely conked out and slept sooo much, so it’s been a great saturday for me :’) and tomorrow, i’ll be making peanut butter cookies! 🍪 (pls ignore the fact that the cookie emoji is a chocolate chip one) omg congratulations, honey bee!!! whoop whoop you’re almost done!!!! 🥳🥳  have you started studying for your exams? when are they? i hope they aren’t too difficult 💞 life has been very work centric rip, but the days seem to go by relatively fast to me, so it’s not too bad! but yes, i’ve been taking breaks and getting sleep and drinking lots of water, thank you 💕 i hope you also have been getting lots of rest and staying hydrated, sweetpea! 💜

and thank you so soo much!!!! 😭💛 i was so happy to see that i got winwin, doyoung, and jeno 🤧 i hope i get some of this luck for the pt 2 album :’) and THANK YOU!!! 🥺💗💗 i started working on it yesterday, and there’s so much stuff to do already, so i might have to put more hours in, but it’s really exciting for me, and i’m not doing busy work like the other first years, so i’m really happy about that 💘 you’re so so kind, thank you so much for your support, lovebug 😭💟💟 and yes!!! I used this recipe for it! i substituted quite a bit of ingredients since i didn’t have it all and cut down on sugar by half, but it still came out delicious :’) rip i didn’t have a grater to get lemon zest so i had to do that manually, but the results were worth it 💛 omg what kind of christmas cakes do you like to bake? :o oooo sugar cookies are always fun to make over christmas!!! my parents like fruitcake, so maybe i’ll try making that too 🤔

omg YES the from home mv was beautiful!!!! I love the visuals and aesthetics so much too, like it was just them and nature, and it was simple, but still stunning since it highlighted the boys and their voices ✨ omg yeah, the baby pictures were sooo so cute 🥺🥺 i have the mv playing on repeat as i write for some nice visuals and music, and it’s so relaxing :’) and omg yeah!!! i really hope there’s an ot23 song on pt 2! i’m really sad jisung has to sit out on activities though... it must be devastating for him ): but he’s been injured since august, so i’m happy that he’s finally getting time to recover 🤍

omg that’s so late, i hope you got to sleep in the next day, lovebug!!! 🌙 and thank you so so much 💗 how did your week go? are you doing anything fun for the weekend? 🌸 i did not celebrate halloween unfortunately because i’m still too paranoid about going out to party and getting covid 😬 but i cooked with my mom, watched football with my dad, and facetimed my friends, so that was still just as fun 💘 did you celebrate halloween, sweetpea? did you have a costume? ✨ and thank you soooo much 🥺💖 i hope you’re doing well and resting up before your exams start!! sending you tons and tons of love back, honey bee!!! 💌💌

[milatherese]

Update No. 5 (*cue Mambo No. 5*) – 90 Days, School, Discernment (just a lil bit)

Note #1: This update is long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Note #2: If you don’t know Mambo No. 5, you need to listen to it (even though the lyrics may be morally wrong, it is quite catchy).

“How was the 90 day journey of a tiny bit of asceticism?” you ask. (nobody cares but I’m pretending you do haha)

That’s a question I still ask myself several days later. 90 days is a lot to process. Therefore, I have included my short answer to this question here: – It was a bit hard in the beginning but got easier as the days went by – I especially enjoyed the no social media / limited communication – I hated cold showers, actually gave it up by the end of the first month or so because it did more harm than good (imo)

The beginning was a little rough, but about as good as sacrifice gets. (you can read my thoughts on that here, here, and here) About a month in, I couldn’t cope, at least physically. I ended up just doing what I felt I was strong enough to do.

January was a little rough. Ever since school started, I had headaches every day (including non-school days). (If you’re wondering why I never shared this with you and why I hid my pain, it was because I didn’t want you to worry.)

At first the headaches were tolerable. I could get through a 12-hour day with minimal pain. They got increasingly worse. I began taking Tylenol according to the recommended dosage (1-2 tablets every 4-6 hours). I didn’t take Tylenol every other day (I try to avoid medicine, if possible) but I eventually “graduated” to taking the extra strength Tylenol, also according to the recommended dosage. Eventually, the headaches began to impact my studying. I had limited time to study (I had to time my studying during the lesser painful waves of my headaches). I was so worried for one class that I spent all my time studying for that one class during lecture of another difficult class (I figured I could bring up my grade in the second class later). Despite my high of level of unpreparedness, I was looking forward to taking the exams for both classes. I thought my headaches were the result of stressing over those two classes. Unfortunately, taking the exams for those classes didn’t end the headaches. In fact, they may have increased the pain.

My headaches soon became unbearable. I couldn’t hide the pain any longer. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t eat out of fear that I would only make the pain worse. I was in tears from the pain. Massaging my head and using an ice pack didn’t reduce the pain. I wanted to rip my head off to get rid of the pain once and for all.

At this time, I decided it was time to begin thinking about seeing the doctor about this. (Yes, I should have already gone to the doctor but my pain isn’t really a concern to me.) I decided that I would go to the doctor if the headaches persist for another week.

The pain was at its absolute worst one Saturday. I had to call in sick for work (we had an event – which I was really looking forward to, btw). I spent the day crying from the pain (at this point, my body wasn’t really responding to Tylenol). Finally, the physical pain began to affect my mental health. I was trying to figure out the root cause of the pain. I began questioning all my decisions – transferring high schools, transferring universities, not applying to a certain community, leaving relationships, etc. I was wondering if this was some sort of a punishment for making the “wrong” decision (which I later learned is no such thing, more on this another day). I felt so lost and alone. I was wondering if this was a taste of what Mother St. Teresa described as a “long dark night.” (I referenced this before in my last update but I just can’t get her long dark night out of my head.) I eventually cried myself to sleep and slept the rest of the day until 2am the next day.

When I woke, I noticed the pain had disappeared and, with it, the emotional rollercoaster I was going through earlier. I was able to get some rest from the physical and emotional pain and my mind was finally functioning as it normally would – quiet and able to think logically. It was clear that my pain was not for torment but for me to focus on something more important than the pain itself. I decided to pray the Rosary for it had been several weeks since I had been able to pray the Rosary without distractions (I would either fall asleep or be distracted by the headache or my studies). I prayed God would help me discern what He wanted me to tend to. I felt that I should prayerfully consider my career path now that I was away from outside influences.

I began reflecting on my semester thus far. There was one day that my mom visited campus and overheard some girls complimenting and encouraging each other. She told me, “I want you to be in whatever major they’re in. They seem happy. You don’t.” At the time, I was too stubborn to see that my happiness was just a mask I put on to “be strong.” I remembered writing pre-labs and post-labs but barely understanding the material, only understanding the grammar necessary to produce acceptable scholarly work. I recalled being so stressed that I was rude to the whole world (except for work) to the point that my mom exclaimed, “Who are you? You’re not human anymore!��  She was right – I wasn’t myself.  That woke me up. I thought, “What good is my major if it only brings out the worst in me?” In prayer, felt called to pursue another career instead of MD/DO. I still don’t know what career exactly, but I’m trusting that my time studying and preparing for MD/DO will help me in my calling.

That Sunday, I informed my parents and one trusted relative of my decision to change majors and they were overjoyed. (My uncle seemed to have already known in the beginning that I would leave the MD/DO path, but wanted me to come to that decision myself.)

So, I changed majors back to Allied Health, B.S.

I met with my academic advisor (not the one who screwed me over, for any of those who know the story) and we came up with a school plan. Estimated graduation date was Fall 2021.

I dealt with this change as best I could and things were on the up and up…until it wasn’t.

Early February, I learned that a close priest friend had passed away, just 3 days shy of his birthday. I had been looking forward to his birthday (not that I would be with celebrating with him, just happy he would be celebrating another year) so hearing the news was devastating. He was like an uncle to me. To quote what I said at a memorial, he was “a great friend, a big brother, a father figure, a very holy man, a man for others.” (There’s so much I can say on him but I’ll leave that for another post) The first day, I seemed okay. Minimal feelings of sadness. It hadn’t hit me yet. It hit me the very next day. And it hit hard and long. I was crying everywhere I went whenever I was away from family and friends. Some days were harder than others (my supervisor sent me home early to give me time to grieve). I was going through so many emotions. I was frustrated that I was taking so long to grieve (I later learned that grief has no time limit) and annoyed that I did not feel comfortable talking to my family or friends about it. I had faced loss before (when Bro. Morgan passed away), but never anything as devastating as this. I did not know how to cope with grief. I struggled to stay focused during class (actually broke down in tears at least during one class each day) and to finish my work (skipped out on a staff meeting due to waterworks). I cancelled a couple meetings and called in sick to group therapy twice. I distanced myself from the world and those who love[d] me. Unfortunately, all this affected my studies once again. Despite my lighter load, I could not concentrate. I did not think of sharing all this with my professors as I felt like they wouldn’t understand (or maybe I was just being stubborn again?)

It came time for RECongress and I held it together (somewhat…more on that on another post). It was that Friday that I was able to study without getting distracted by grief. I had an exam the following Monday. But one day of studying 3+ weeks of material was not enough to pass the exam. So there went that.

February went by with each day bleeding into the next. Each day was a blur until one blessed night.

My brother had arrived home late from school one day and as he was pulling into our driveway (why do we park on driveways and drive on parkways) a beautiful dog approached him. I won’t go into details but the dog is now ours and has been the biggest blessing this semester, especially in helping our family cope with grief. We believe (as do others) that Father Suarez sent her to us.

Come March and April, things were finally on the up and up again. I was studying every day and keeping up with work. But then quarantine hit and things went downhill yet again. I did become more active on this blog since March 16th but inside I was deteriorating. However, it wasn’t as detrimental as January and February. Let’s just say that I learned the house is not conducive to studying, I may need a new prescription for glasses, and we need to find better internet (or move to a place with better cell signal). I failed a final due to failed internet connection (thanks be to God I got another shot at it). I took my two other finals in the car in the parking lot in front of Starbucks.

Quarantine has been the best and the worst for me. I realized that spiritually, I was thirsty. Thirsty for God. I live-streamed Mass and adoration daily and at odd hours, even doing homework and studying “with God.” The more things I had to do, the more I felt the need to “hang” with God (which, in retrospect, may have been a bad decision because I ended up procrastinating and losing a lot of sleep). I learned to value receiving the sacraments in-person now. I’m more aware of when I sin or am near sin. It has also reignited the flame of faith. I’ve been doing a lot more spiritual reading, especially now that APU semester is over (still have one class at a JC).

Despite this, discernment got a bit murky. I began questioning my vocation and doing a lot more “reality checks” (and a lot more second-guessing). Frankly, I don’t think I would survive living in a community of all women since all my close friends are men. (Or is that an excuse I am making for myself?) I don’t think I would make a great mother either so perhaps I’m meant to be single? (Or am I just a harsh critic of myself and I would actually be a great mother?) I had not really spoken to my spiritual director in months (transportation and schedule issues, both on my part).

A priest I met at RECongress learned I was discerning religious life (if you didn’t know this, I hope this isn’t a surprise) and asked me to email him as soon as possible in case I need guidance. I didn’t email him until April 1st so that may have contributed to my overthinking. He replied a couple weeks later (and I replied a couple days after that and am still awaiting a response). I asked God for “another sign, for some clarity” and He gave me another. However, everything still looks murky to me. I feel both consolation and desolation at the same time. I might be facing another identity crisis like last semester. Aye.

Ok this is way longer than I had planned so I’m just gonna stop right here.

If you read this far, thank you for reading. If you relate to anything I shared, I hope you know that you’re not alone and that if you ever need anything (even if it’s just a listening ear), I’ll do my best to help. Just ask. (And if you need something but I haven’t replied in a long time, just reach out again. I forget to reply to messages quite often.)

[stylesgalaxy]

mastermind; chapter 5

It's Saturday morning and Harry walks out of Julia's room, shirtless. I almost spill my coffee all over the counter again.

"Morning," he says tiredly. I give a weak smile in response. He rubs his eyes and looks down, just noticing that he's shirtless. "Fuck."

I watch him walk back into Julia's room, probably looking for a t-shirt. I'm trying to calm my heart down before he comes back. I'd never seen Harry shirtless. He's never even slept over at ours. He stayed pretty late but I don't ever remember him sleeping over. To be fair, I did shut myself up in my room for all of last night to get my sculpture done, so I didn't notice any hanky panky they might have gotten around to.

It was a strange feeling. I knew Harry and Julia were in love and I knew two people in love at our age had sex. It wasn't wrong for them and it was ridiculous for me to feel anyway about that. But it was a harsh reminder of what I'd never have. On one side of the apartment I'm locked up in my room, tired and stressed; while on the other side, my best friend was living a carefree life with no worries, in the throes of passion with the man I was falling deeper in love with.

Stop thinking that, Aria!

But it was true. Becoming Harry's friend did exactly what I dreaded: made me love him even more. He was the most respectful guy I knew, he was polite and friendly, but also cheeky and funny. He was witty and quick with his responses and knew how to cheer me up better than anyone else. Though I don't think that's because of how well he knows me, I think it's just one of his character traits. I have yet to meet someone who isn't instantly charmed by Harry.

I wonder how many other girls are in love with him—

Harry walks back in, this time wearing a t-shirt. I turn my back to him to give myself another moment to calm down from earlier. He opens a cupboard next to my head to grab a mug for himself. I watch him fill our kettle with water while I decide whether or not I should show him my project. "I didn't see you at all yesterday. I was going to ask you if you wanted to sit us, but Julia told me not to bother you."

Thank god.

"Good thing, I was quite busy."

"What were you working on?" he leans his back against the counter in the position I often take.

"My sculpture, its all I have left." All my classes were done, and all my assignments except this one were submitted. I had one exam for my history class to write later this week. But my priority was the sculpture due tomorrow.

"And how is that going? Have you finished it? Can I see it?" he starts asking eagerly.

"I'm actually having a crisis," I admit. His eyebrows pinch.

"Oh no, what's wrong?"

"I'm stumped. I have artist's block. I don't want to do it anymore," I confess. I sigh heavily then motion for him to follow me to my room. I'm aware this is the second time he's in it, and since this time I'm not screaming and throwing things, he takes a moment to study everything. His eyes flitter around the photographs I have taped on one wall, the fairy lights draped across my bed, my packed bookshelf and my mess of a desk.

In the centre sits my deer head. The head was made out of malleable clay, the branches from a couple weeks ago neatly stuck on top of the head. I stuck beads in where it's eyes would be, and that was it. I tried to add countless things to spice it up but I just finished sculpting the head last night and I was too drained to continue working.

"Aria this is impressive... this is what you were doing last night?" he says in awe. Glee rushes through my body every time he compliments my work.

"I did some of it last night, yeah."

"Is this using that special clay you got a few weeks ago?"

"What special clay—?" I begin before I remember the lie I told him so he wouldn't look in the bag that held his present. "Oh, uh, no. It's not that one..." he looks at me expectantly. I shrug at him, "The clay got exposed to the air and I had to ditch it."

"Oh..."

Harry eyes the string of fake flowers I left abandoned on my desk. I had seen them in a bouquet of fake flowers in the lobby of the humanities building and nicked them to use for this project. I glued the dime-sized flowers on to dark brown string and tried to incorporate it into my work, but couldn't.

"What's this?" he picks it up.

"I was going wrap it around the neck like a necklace, but it looked like my deer was going on vacation so I didn't do that," I answer.

"Why don't you wrap it around the antlers? Like a halo."

"I tried that but it doesn't look right. Watch," I grab the flowers from him and gently wrap it around the antlers. "See?"

"Something's missing," Harry comments after a few seconds. "Wait," he says suddenly and walks out of my room, when he returns he's holding a bouquet of fake flowers we have in our living room for decoration. Harry detaches the rose from it's stem on one of the flowers and with a shaky hand he brings it closer to the deer's crown. He pulls a few more roses apart and hesitantly—almost as if he's expecting me to yell at him for ruining my project—he places them on the head around the antlers. I don't say anything. I let him do his thing and only watch in curiosity as he presents me with an idea I feel like I should have long ago come up with.

"That's amazing," I comment. "How do you do that?"

"Do what? I just put flowers on it, you sculpted the whole thing."

"No, how do you do that. You just come up with an idea that fits so perfectly. I feel like I should have thought about this."

He gives me a knowing smile. "I think you're overworking yourself. You think about everything you're doing so much you miss things you normally wouldn't." I gulp, knowing he's right. I've lost my touch, I'm not the way I was before and it was affecting me. "It's just the pressure of finals, I'm sure. You're still just as talented as always, you just have too much on your plate right now."

And just like that any insecurity I had vanished. He was right. It probably was the pressure of finals, nothing more. I haven't lost my touch, I've only lost sleep.

I pin him with a hard gaze, trying to understand how this boy seemingly knows how I feel, and what to say to calm me down. I don't even think he realized the internal panicking I was about to experience, but he somehow says the right words at the right time.

I can feel Harry getting uncomfortable under my gaze and look away.

"Y-you don't have to do it like this obviously, we can rearrange it," he moves to pick the flowers back out but I stop him.

"No, don't! I like them like that."

Instead I grab my hot glue gun and slowly dab a bit of glue under each flower, then place it back where Harry originally put them. Harry leans his hands on my desk and watches me complete this mundane yet precise task. I start to falter when I feel his breath on the side of my face, but in fear that he will notice and move away, I force myself to keep going.

"What else?" Harry asks clapping his hands. I daresay he thinks art is fun.

The deer head (mounted on a black stand) is a plain brown colour. On it's head it has a flower crown, but the rest is empty. The neck especially looks empty.

"Does the neck look too empty to you?" I ask.

Harry leans forward, squinting his eyes. He moves back and tilts his head as if it shows him a different image. Then he comes back closer and moves to look at it from thirty different angles. I roll my eyes at his overdramatic critiquing.

"It does," the Special Art Consultant finally concludes. "This is probably going to sound silly, but wouldn't it look cool if you ripped some pages from a book and glued it near it's neck? I mean you clearly read a lot."

I slap my arm against his chest and gasp. He looks at me shocked, but I don't have time to explain before I'm already pulling a book out of my shelf. Harry is a genius.

"You know, I'm convinced you're secretly an artist," I tell Harry, ripping pages from my copy of Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I almost miss Harry blushing. Just as I look up to see why he was so silent, I notice him biting his lip to keep from smiling and looking down at his shoes.

"That's not true," he says eventually. "I could never do that things you do."

"You don't have to know everything I know to be an artist."

He shakes his head, clearly against the thought. I shrug, "Well you definitely do have an artistic eye."

"What's the book? Is it your favourite Shakespeare play?"

"One of. I don't even need this anymore so I don't mind ripping it up. And this one would be more fitting because it takes place in a forest."

"I've never seen a Shakespeare play," he admits.

"Never?! Oh my God, I'm going to have to take you one day. You'll love them. We can see A Midsummer Night's Dream, or The Tempest, or—or King Lear!" I exclaim. "King Lear is really good."

He smiles at me cutely and then nods his head.

I take the pages I ripped out, and begin tearing them into uneven and irregular shapes. Harry helps me and we're about to start gluing it on papier mâché style when I hear sounds coming from Julia's room. Harry and I look at each other and I nod at him to go.

"I completely forgot about Julia, you should probably go have breakfast with her. I totally just dragged you in here and forced you to help," I smile sheepishly. "Sorry."

He looks at me like I'm being ridiculous and I know he's about to assure me it's not like that but then he smirks and says, "Well that is kind of true. Next time you want a second opinion, please book an appointment and pay me in advance."

My jaw drops at his sassiness, and he laughs as he saunters out of my room. I'm still laughing when he greets Julia and kisses her. It's then that I turn back to my pages and glue.

---

There's a thin sliver in between the end of classes and the start of exams. It's in this short span of time that Niall and Louis planned to throw a party. I say 'Niall and Louis' even though Harry lives there, because Harry is over at ours for most waking hours of his day, that he was invited to a party in his own house like the rest of us.

With the relief of all of my assignments—and most importantly my sculpture—being complete I'm more relaxed and like my usual self. Harry had never seen me like this, which is why he was so amused right now. On our way to the party, he looks at me in awe as I laugh at all of Julia's ridiculousness when I would usually be rolling my eyes.

"So you're going to get a car?" I exclaim in excitement after Julia tells us about how she told her father last night that she had a 4.0GPA going into the exams.

"For Christmas, yes!" she shouts, equally excited. We squeal and giggle together. Harry already knows Julia is like this, but seeing me like this has him grinning lightly and shaking his head.

"What?" I question him. "Julia having a car means she can drive me places. We won't need your or Louis anymore to get anywhere."

"You shouldn't speak so soon," Harry warns. "When Julia gets busy, you're gonna need me."

I open my mouth to ask when Julia is ever busy when the girl herself speaks up.

"You can drive it, too!" she says to me without hesitation. "I trust you! And besides, I wouldn't have had it without you."

"That's not true, you're very smart. You did it all on your own," I assure her.

Julia links her arm through mine as we walk, "Oh, Aria. I wouldn't have half the things I do now without you by my side."

Not really thinking about what she's saying and just accepting the compliment, I lean my head on her shoulder and we walk ahead forgetting about Harry. Harry voices how we abandoned him, and in my cheery mood I start bantering with him. It's so nice to finally be myself with Harry around Julia. It was so draining before when I had to hold things back, or act all broody to get Harry to ignore me.

It isn't until we get to the house that I realize how silent Julia has been. I notice her looking between Harry and I and just listening to us talk to each other. There isn't any time to think about it when the door opens to reveal Niall in a loose sweater and dark blue skinny jeans, hollering and waving us in.

"You guys are early!" he comments. As I take off my jacket, I look around the house and see that we actually are the first ones here. Louis was prepping snacks on their kitchen counter and lining up a bunch on red solo cups. He can't say hello to us because he put too many pretzels in his mouth. I watch in amusement as he tries to wash it down with a drink but can't because there's too many in his mouth and the liquid drips down his face. Idiot.

"I had to come early to make sure all my stuff was hidden away and my room is locked," Harry glares at Niall. "Because someone decided to tell me we were throwing a party on the day of."

"Don't you dare take credit for the party Niall and Louis clearly worked so hard to organize," I chastise Harry, inspecting the lame decorations the boys set up. Louis tries to agree with me but starts choking so I go over to thump him on his back. "Don't pass out so early! Niall and I can't take shots without you, it's tradition."

Niall laughs and Louis grins wide once his air pipe is clear.

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," he pulls me in a hug.

Julia awkwardly stands by while Harry scolds Niall for leaving his expensive vase out in the open where it could easily break. Harry moves around the picking up random items that are too valuable for a party, and makes Niall help him hide them in his room. I'm helping Louis pour chips in bowls when I notice Julia.

While we were all friends, Julia never got close to Niall and Louis. She never saw them because Harry always went to her, and when we all did hang out, her and Harry were always left alone. Since I tried to do anything to distance myself from Harry even when I had to be in the same room as him and Julia, I befriended Niall and Louis. They became my biggest distraction and source of entertainment.

"Wanna help me?" I ask her. She nods and works on what I was doing while I look for something else to do. Louis tries to make conversation with her to help her feel more comfortable, and soon they're talking about their plans for the holidays. Then Niall calls Louis over to help him with the keg and other things.

"You're very close with them," Julia comments. I look up at her in surprise. She said that almost as if she was envious. Julia was never envious of me—I had nothing to be envious of.

"Yeah, they're fun to hang around when you and Harry are off on your own," I reply. I never told Julia about how I felt abandoned when she would leave me to be alone with Harry in our first year. Back when I was still getting used to this new home and the people, Julia was all I had. But I understood her position, she had a new boyfriend she wanted to hang out with him. So I just made the best of the situation. I wasn't going to be a baby and complain, I was an adult. And since Niall and Louis were friends with Harry, they were around often. I hovered around them for a while until they took notice of me and pulled me into their drinking games or conversation. Every party after that, I hung out with them. They loved me especially after they found out how good of a wingwoman I was.

"I meant Harry, too. You get along really well with all of them. They love you."

My mouth dries up. Julia doesn't say this accusingly, but it still shakes me up.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's not that deep. I'm just easy to get along with," I say, hoping to eradicate any insecurity she was feeling. She stares at me for a while, then nods her head.

I'm about to force her to tell me how she really feels because Julia has a habit of not sharing these thoughts sometimes, and she needs to learn to communicate her feelings. But just as I open my mouth, all three boys come bounding down the stairs.

"All of our rooms are locked up, nobody's having sex in this house," Niall says proudly.

"No," Louis counters. "Nobody's having sex in our rooms, who knows what they want to do around the rest of the house."

"We'll just tell them they can't have sex," Harry suggests.

"And how well did you ever follow that?" Louis quips. Harry is left speechless, while the rest of us (minus Julia) laugh.

"Is Zayn coming?" I ask eventually. I've been wondering about it since we were told about the party. I haven't seen Zayn in weeks and I admit I missed talking with him. I was lucky nobody noticed my that my outfit was a bit racier then what I usually wear to parties.

"Yes!" burst Louis. "I texted him the details a few days ago, he said he'll be here."

"Who's Zayn?" Harry questions. Everyone (including Julia) pauses and looks at him. "What? Does everyone know him but me?"

It probably shouldn't have come as that big of a surprise considering Harry does spend most of his day with Julia at our house, and only came home to sleep.

"You don't know Zayn?" Niall asks in wonder. "Mate, he's come over so many times, though. He's really good at FIFA, a fucking legend!"

"Harry's never home," Louis answers Niall's question, then turns to Harry, "You would have met him if you remembered you lived here," he sings teasingly.

Harry rolls his eyes, and huffs in defense.

"I'm too busy to meet some guy you probably picked off the street to play video games with," he mutters.

"Too busy doing what? Catching up on Real Housewives?" I can't help but scoff. Everyone's attention now turns to me and I falter. "Zayn is my friend, not some guy they picked up off the streets."

Julia finally decides to break her silence. "Very special friend," she wiggles her eyebrows. Niall and Louis howl with laughter as my face reddens. Harry quirks an eyebrow and looks between me and Louis questioningly. God, was he still under the impression that I had a crush on Louis?

"I don't like him like that," I mutter towards Julia, looking away. I could take teasing like this all the time, I didn't care. Everyone knew Zayn was hot. But with Harry in the room it felt weird.

"Uh huh, then why did you go to the art shop three times one week?" Julia smirks. Niall and Louis continue laughing at me, and I want to smack Julia for exposing me like this. At least Zayn isn't here to hear this.

"Wait, art shop?" Harry questions.

"Zayn works at the art shop," Louis says. "I met him when I took Aria there 'cause you weren't home. He's really cool. Has all these wicked tattoos and he even said he'd draw me one--"

"Okay, that's enough on tattoos, thanks Louis," Harry shuts him before Louis drives all of us insane again. "Well, I can't wait to meet this Zayn fellow."

---

The party was thriving, Niall and Louis were really good hosts, ensuring everyone always had a drink with them. If they weren't drinking alcohol, Louis would shove a can of coke in their hands. Niall was overseeing the keg line and hyping everyone up over something as boring as beer. Harry and Julia stayed away from most of the madness. Being a couple for two years makes them act like they're married.

I feel a guy's eyes on me. He has a creepy smile and when I make eye contact with him, he walks over towards. I swiftly turn around and head towards the kitchen where Harry and Julia are. Zayn has yet to arrive even though its close to midnight.

I guess I look at them with a troubled expression because both of them stop smiling at each other and look at me with worry.

"Are you alright?" Julia asks.

"Fine," I croak, trying not to check if the creepy guy followed me. "I just want a drink."

"Coming right up," Harry offers and begins mixing a drink for me. He gives me cranberry juice with a splash of vodka in it. I give him a look that says 'seriously?' but he only grins.

"You'll thank me in the morning," he says. I scoff and pour myself more vodka. He doesn't know my tolerance.

I'm happily sipping my drink while Julia tells me about a dress she saw a girl wearing, when I notice Harry's demeanor changing. He stands straighter and glares at someone behind me. I turn around and see the creeper's gaze move from my ass to my face in surprise. Then his eyes flit to Harry and he begins to back away and leave. I look back at Harry who still has a sour look on his face. It softens when he meets my eyes and I silently thank him.

"Who was that?" Julia asks.

"Just some weirdo," I say dismissively. My eyes scan across the living room and stop when I spot a dark haired boy in a denim jacket. "I'm going, I see a friend."

"Stay safe!" Julia calls after me as I move in between people. Zayn is on the other side of the room now, watching other people with a drink in his hand.

"Hey," I smirk, leaning against the wall beside him.

"Hey, Aria! It's been a while," his smiles widely. "You haven't been coming around the shop as much."

"Didn't need anything," I shrug.

"You didn't want to see me?" he says flirtatiously. My eyes almost widen.

"See, that's why you give a girl your number."

He chuckles and turns so his shoulder is against the wall and leans closer to me. Looking into his gorgeous, sparking eyes, I forget all about any of my frustrations and worries. I forget all about Harry and how he's enjoying his night with Julia.

And I'd like to feel like this longer.

"Do you want to go somewhere a bit more private?" I whisper.

Zayn's eyes light up and in response he closes his hand around mine. I down my drink and leave it on the coffee table nearby, before scooting him away.

---

He presses me up against the wall kisses me ferociously. His hands roam around until they stop at exposed waist. My own hands tightly grasp his denim jacket. It feels nice to kiss Zayn. He kisses better than other guys I've made out with. Not as good a certain curly-haired guy, but no one can kiss better than him.

I let one hand travel up his collarbone and neck to really lose myself in this kiss. Zayn responds by slipping his hand under the velvet material of my top. He's hesitant to move any further just yet, so I let out a quiet moan and push his hand further. The kiss deepens and I can taste the alcohol on his tongue.

"Aria."

The voice startles me and a weird feeling erupts in my stomach. Zayn and I instantly pull away to look at Harry who stands a few feet away regarding Zayn with a scowl on his face. His eyes moved to where Zayn still has his hands on my waist.

"Harry?" I breathe. "What are you doing here?"

Harry's gaze snaps to mine and softens again. He walks closer to me and reaches his arm out.

"Are you okay? Do you want to go home?"

Why is he here? Why can't I just be free of him for a couple minutes? All I want is to live my life like everyone else: kiss hot guys at parties and not think about my best friend's boyfriend. But apparently that's too much to ask.

Zayn, being intuitive, senses my anger and tries to help.

"Mate, it's alright, we're okay here. Aria is fine," he says. Harry's eyes darken.

"Aria, is he making you do this? Come away from him, I'll take you home," he says more firmly and holds his hand out to me.

Fury begins to bubble inside me as I continue staring at him. Why does everyone think I'm a child? Or a prude who is scared of doing anything intimate? I flashback to the conversation I had with Julia when she was worried her and Harry "traumatized" me when I sort of walked in on them. I get angrier thinking that they probably talked about me amongst themselves and that's why they both see me like this.

"What are you doing here?" I grit through my teeth. Zayn, squeezes my hip lightly, to make me calm down but I can't.

Harry's expression hardens again.

"I was looking for you. I'm taking Julia home, I can take you too," he responds.

"No, thank you," I say and turn Zayn back to me to block my view of Harry.

"Aria!" Harry scowls.

"What?" I yell in frustration. Does he not see how awkward he's making this? Harry doesn't know how to respond, so I roll my eyes. "I'm not a child you have to watch over. Go home."

He breathes heavily for a few seconds, clearly conflicted on whether or not he should leave me with a guy he doesn't know, or take me home.

"Alright, call me if you need me. I'll come get you."

I roll my eyes again knowing I won't do that, but I don't say anything just place my hands around Zayn's neck. Harry finally leaves and I let my head drop on Zayn's shoulder.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry about that," I apologize, no longer in the mood.

"It's alright," Zayn rubs his hand up and down my back.

"It's not! That was so embarrassing!"

"He's a friend?"

"That was Harry," I say. Zayn's eyes light up in recognition. I'm sure he's heard about him from the boys. "He lives here with Niall and Louis."

"And he's with Julia now?" he confirms. I nod. "I'm kind of hungry, do you want to go get food?" he says suddenly.

I look up at him slowly and see him smiling at me. A laugh escapes my throat and I nod. I could eat.

===

New chapter is up! Sorry for the slow updates, I will try to update faster. Also is anyone here a Game of Thrones fan? Omg what did you think about the Arya thing? Btw I named Aria after Arya because I love her so much :)))

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[veridium]

heartbreak warfare

WELCOME TO MORE QUEER PAIN 

Hope ya’ll are ready for some shit. Because I brought the shit. Heaping dose, because I have had a wonderful day and feel all mushy. Enjoy!

part one // last episode

-- The man was a no-good blond bastard with too much wool in his wardrobe and clumsy taste in flowers. White carnations represent pure love, and he had the audacity to come around with a fist of them. He should have crawled up the stairs on his knees if he wanted to present pure love. Yelling at him made Olivia feel close to the goddess Medusa in levels of vindicated fury, though she was inconvenienced by the lack of hair snakes.

Despite her almighty and supernatural ire, Ellinor granting him entry is something she disagrees with but ultimately respects: her best friend is tired, and deserves to feel loved, and maybe the one silver lining is that there isn’t much else Cullen Rutherfudger can mess up more. Maybe if they get it together she won’t have to peel her up off the floor next weekend. Damn, had their standards for a good Saturday crashed down below sea level.

But, she will be keeping a close eye on him. A very close, and scathing, eye. To be fair, the man shows up and tows the line when he has fucked up; which is more than she can say for who she once thought of as a potential suitor as Sunday passes with no word. Potential suitor. Ugh, that kind of working only happens when you’ve paid attention to someone who’s a rhetorical romantic. Too much attention.

Monday comes, and is mundane. She keeps a low profile, and attends classes with little fuss; her Professor asks how she is doing because of her silence in class discussion, and she gives an excuse about getting over a head cold. Yeah, right. Besides lecture and a short shift at the gym, she goes back home to continue being reclusive. She does not cross paths with Ellinor much, though she fields the almost hourly texts asking her how she is, where she is, and if she needs anything. Ellinor is doing that innocent thing all friends do when they find themselves luckier in personal exploits than their loved ones: sympathy that is all-too-easily swallowed as pity when you’ve been kicked down one-too-many times.

Tuesday also comes and goes. Classes and a midterm exam, one she completes with confidence; cold war history is interesting enough. It helped that she had someone, for a brief time, to rant about it and dissect things. During the free response portion she uses a word Cassandra did during one of their debates: “pejorative.” How the hell she knew that word was whatever.

Then, Wednesday. Even though it’s only been a few days, when she wakes up to Ellinor’s voice it feels like it’s been a century since the last time she’s heard it.

“Liv, release the hostage oreos.” Oh, great. Long time no see, and she’s come into her room just to attack her for her life choices.

Olivia growls and hides away, bastard red velvet oreos in her clutches. “Bite me.”

“Liv. Come on,” Ellinor’s standing by her bed, hands on her hips like a fed up soccer mom trying to get her kid up for school. “You haven’t been responding to my texts and you don’t answer the door. I worried you ate yourself into a coma. I keep hearing the Scientist on repeat through your door. I think I can play the piano part off of just memory alone.”

“Good, maybe Cullen would enjoy another concert.”

“Olivia!”

She gives in and rolls over, tossing the oreos to her without looking. “Fine! Have at ‘em.” Ellinor misses and they fall onto the floor with a sharp, plastic crack. The worst part though is the thought that comes immediately after they crash: Cassandra would have caught it.

She groans again and tosses her comforter over her head. “What time is it? My alarm hasn’t gone off.”

“I caught it as it went off, bitch,” Ellinor grumbles. The sound of her picking up the oreos and tossing them to the table. She cares. I shouldn’t be so mean. She cares.

“Oh. Hm.”

“Seriously, are you alright? You haven’t dropped off the radar with me since that time you shaved half your eyebrows off at the Homecoming after party, remember?”

Oh, Jesus. How could she forget. “Mm. I’m fine. I’ve just been swamped with homework.”

“You? Olivia Sinclair, swamped by homework?” Ellinor’s voice veers farther away, towards the door. “Shit, the rapture must be upon us.”

“Give me a break, please. What are you doing up so early anyway? You don’t have class until…” that was a silly question. There could only be one reason she would be up and about like this. A week ago, it would have been the promise of coffee by Olivia. Now, it’s the promise of someone else’s coffee. Blond roast. Bleh.

“...Uh,” Ellinor chuckles nervously, “Nothing. I’m just hanging out. If you’d rather be left alone, I can go back to--”

“Don’t lay an egg, Ellinor.” Olivia gripes, stretching her toes. “You can say you’re up for him. I’m not a widow. Have fun, whatever it is you heteros do at the crack of dawn besides milking cows and...I don’t know, watching TLC or something.”

Silence. Ellinor sighs, and opens the door. “Okay, Olivia.” Dammit, she feels bad. Ellinor shouldn’t be feeling bad. She deserves to be happy, and she deserves a best friend who would support her being happy. Olivia flips over to lay face down and continue loathing herself. Every bone in her body wants to snarl and hide from everything good and cheery. Soon, Cassandra won’t be the only one steering clear of her, if she keeps this up.

Just outside her shut door, she hears a deeper voice. A deeper, calmer voice. Then Ellinor’s more opinionated tone. She says something bossy -- sounding like ‘I’m gonna kill your roommate for this, I hope you know.’ A sigh immediately responds. Typical. Cullen better have prepared himself to be with a woman who didn’t pull any punches, who could fight her own fights...and sometimes, fights that belong to her friends who have grown too tired of it all.

All she can do is wonder what it’ll take to feel okay again. It is one thing to say you’re hard to love, and make people miserable. It’s another to have someone confirm it so unapologetically.

--

Wednesday is as repetitive in the first half as Monday was: the same lectures, and then eventually a couple hours in the TA office waiting for nothing and no one to show up for assistance while she grades Blackboard responses to the week’s study question.

She’s in the thick of it when an email notification pops up on her laptop. Her women’s history 305 Professor, saying they’re switching texts for next week’s discussions. They’re going to study Heloise, a 11th century French nun and scholar. Great, fantastic, except none of their texts are about her. The Professor kindly asks they search for the suggested reading online or in the library. Olivia would be completely okay with digging up the text online if her laptop hadn’t just been salvaged from a virus stemming for the last time she did so.

Besides, the library was a reliable source. Why not do something she’s good at, and dig?

With a half hour left in her office hours she takes the liberty to stroll down to the main campus library. The book in particular is old so it should be in the stocks. When she goes to a computer and checks the catalog, she finds one copy is still available; her class’s rush to obtain it free hasn’t nosed her out completely just yet.

The Dewey decimal number takes her to a shelf on the fourth floor, but after 20 minutes of searching she uncovers nothing. No book, no Heloise. Defeated, she stands alone in the aisle and looks around one last time. It should be here, there’s no reason it shouldn’t. It said so in the database.

Climbing down to the main floor, she takes the issue up with the work study student manning the checkout desk.

“I’m sorry,” she says after looking it up on her own computer, “it’s been incorrectly logged. It happens.”

“What? What does that mean?”

“We have a couple satellite locations in town where our reserves are loaned long-term; sometimes their books are kept under our organized log when it’s with them.”

“So...so it is here. In town, right?”

“Oh, yeah, it should be. It’s just at one of our outsourced places.”

She asks if she can check them out still, and to her relief, the answer is yes. The kind woman writes down the address and name of the place for her, so that she can find it for herself once and for all. Handing it to her with a nice-enough smile, she sees her off.

Olivia makes it through the metal detectors before checking the piece of paper with pencil writing.

‘203 Northeast Lillian Way.’ Why is that so familiar? Shit. No, no, no, no. She rips her phone out and starts scrolling feverishly with her thumb through the old and taboo messages between her and she-who-still-shall-not-be-named. Lo and behold, it’s the worst possible outcome: the Church library. Of course, they would demand premium on books about a French Nun. How poetic.

She stands outside the library for a few minutes and deliberates her choices. With any luck, Cassandra is elsewhere -- it’s mid-afternoon, she probably has practice, or volunteer hours, or class. She tries, but she can’t remember for sure what her Tues/Thurs routine is. It’s been that long, or it’s been that hard to have her in her life. Regardless, she needs the book, and if she can get a hold of it she can make a photocopy and give it back with no harm done. It takes her a while, but she convinces herself to make a break for it: pulling out her keys from her bag and heading straight for the blue parking lot where her trusty car is awaiting.

All the same, she can’t help but curse her luck.

--

The drive to the Church would make her emotional if she had any emotions left to give. Days of alternating between crying, eating junk food, denial, and good ol’-fashioned anger have jaded her. At this point, she would dare the fates that be to make her days. The point between her pulling into the parking lot, turning her car off, and walking inside is all a surreal blur. Once she would have rather walked on a chain-link fence edge barefoot than set foot in a House of God, and now it’s twice in one month’s time.

Walking down the center aisle of the hall isn’t the same without Cassandra there to burst open a door on the other side. The stained glass isn’t as colorful, and the bread bowls aren’t as interesting. Still, thankfully, she finds herself left alone like before: no one to pretend they care about her soul, or ask if she’s been saved. The whole place feels like a ghost town, actually -- an odd thing for 4:30 in the afternoon on a weekday. But who is she to judge? The Pope?

A right, then a left, then up stairs. She logs it all in her head. There’s so much more room in the hallway with just her. Too much room. Eventually, she finds the double-doors. One cocked open, with a wooden stopper wedged underneath it. She hesitates to show herself: she’s not as modest as she was when she first came around, black high-waisted shorts with tights on under, with a black short-sleeve v-neck tucked in. Heels, because, of course -- and they clank on the wood floor.

But she does go in. Brave enough, finally, after a couple breaths: and she’s vindicated for doing so. No one’s in. No school kids hiding out, no Missionary interns studying away. No Cassandra, either, skulking or pacing with a book in her hands contemplating the secrets of the universe. Fabulous, she can pull out the paper in her pocket with the decimal system number, find the damn book, and be out like a thief in the night. The mischievous fates have been thwarted, so it seems. If she ignores the sinking feeling in her stomach and feet, being back where Cassandra first surprised, she can be on with her day.

Coming towards the standalone shelves rowed together, she studies the note she made for herself. The first shelf is way too early in the alphabet, so she comes around to the middle and peeks down the first section. Nothing and no one, and still in the C’s-E’s. She needs J.

Then, the sound of paper rubbing against itself. Like a page being turned. She freezes, takes a breath, and approaches the corner of the second aisle.

God, please, no, anyone but--but it’s her.

Her shoes are hitting the ground too hard for her presence to be a secret, and she knows well enough. She stops, and a heel grades against the wood grain. Cassandra -- dressed in black leggings and a sweatshirt, over-sized, and the most casual she’s ever seen her styled -- is sitting cross-legged on the floor. Up against the stacks, with several books piled around her. One open in her hands, kept in her lap. At the noise of Olivia’s footfalls she looks up. Not expecting her, clearly, her eyes go wide and she jerks up to her feet in the blink of an eye. Agile enough to do so without stumbling all over herself, but not confident enough to stand all tall and proud. Not like she did in the gallery.

Olivia steps back, and she can feel her face sour. She crinkles the paper in her hand, and it bends beneath a fist. She doesn’t respond, only glares with steeled hopelessness.

Cassandra closes the book in her hands. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I came for a book.” Iced, and disdainful.

Her face strains a bit, and she adjusts. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her bottom lip and holds her ground. “That is all.” It’s crushing her slowly, the priorities: yell at her, say sorry again, cry, beg. Too many needs and too many wants. She takes a page out of Cassandra’s metaphorical book and holds it all in under a guise of self-sufficient introversion. 

“I...okay. D-do you need--”

“No. I know how to work a library.”

“...Alright.” She accepts it, and nods. Olivia sucks on her teeth. They both try to get on with whatever it is they were up to before they were aware of each other’s presence: Cassandra, sitting back down on the ground, and Olivia investigating the far end of the shelf. She tracks down the J’s, but there’s no book in sight. Again. First, twice, and thrice she checks the row where it should be. A couple minutes have passed, and she’s left standing there with no reward to her risk.

She lets out a sigh through puckered lips.

“What are you looking for?” Cassandra’s voice, clear and calm.

She keeps her eyes on the shelf, clinging to the paper. “I don’t need your help.”

“Um…” she treads lightly, very lightly, “some of the shelves are disorganized, because of the students.”

Fan-fucking-tastic. She’ll never find this damn book, she’ll never do her homework, she’ll just drop out and call it good.

“I’m…” she starts, but stops when Cassandra suddenly shows up next to her, having risen to her feet without so much as a sound. She takes hold of the paper that is in a death grip in Olivia’s hands, one which she releases against her better judgement.

She raises a brow. “Hm.”

“It’s--it’s a book with copies of letters from--”

“Heloise and Abelard. I know this anthology, I had it for...um, hm. You won’t find it here, though.”

Olivia slouches, and frustration escapes her. “What? Again?!”

“No,” Cassandra shakes her head, and then turns around, “it’s over here.” Without a word, she walks away, with the presumption that Olivia will come along. An audacious presumption; if she had not come all the way across town to track down the damn thing she would have laughed and said ‘fat chance.’ Beggars can’t be choosers.

They go to the back corner, where there are rows of tall volume books that look like dictionaries. The shelf above them is where Cassandra slants onto her toes and searches. Olivia does her best to keep her eyes preoccupied elsewhere -- anywhere else, but her -- and waits patiently. Finally she falls back, pulling a book out that’s rather small and thin. But it’s weirdly pink, like the catalog image.

“Here,” she breaths, pivoting back to her and holding it out.

Olivia stares at the outstretched book, brow pressing low as she bites back more bitterness on her mind. She takes it, gripping onto the opposite diagonal corner to Cassandra’s grip.

“T-Thanks.” She spits out, holding it to her stomach. “Do you know if I have to….to do anything special to check it out from here? Or do I just take it to the main library?”

“You just take it there…” Cassandra confirms, reaching across her own stomach and clasping onto her elbow.

“Okay.” Olivia keeps her eyes to the ground, and her responses curt. “Thanks again. I’ll be going now.”

“Olivia, I’m sorry.” The words cut through the air like a chef’s knife. Eager, and quick, like it’s the last word she’ll ever get in edgewise. Olivia has turned to the side by the time she hears it, and she stops cold. The book to her belly now feels like armor she can’t live without. She can’t bare to look at her, at whatever face she’s making. It’ll be too sincere, too heartfelt.

“I really don’t want to hear it.”

“I know you don’t, but you deserve to.”

“You thought I deserved to hear a great deal of things.”

“I...I know. And…”

“What?”

“And it was unfair of me. I shouldn’t have cornered you, when you were already feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t right.”

Olivia sucks in her gut; the words she is saying are too poignant to face with a chin tucked in shame. She looks, only to feel punished for it: Cassandra is frowning, and not the way she does by default. It is a sad one. It makes Olivia’s heart skip, and plummet at the same time.

“Y-you know, Cassandra,” she replies, her voice brittle as her throat gets thicker with tears she thought she had long run out of, “I...I just wish I knew what your secret was.”

Cassandra blinks a few times, beautiful black eyelashes fluttering. “My secret?”

“Yeah. Your secret. The one behind how you always look so undaunted and...and un-phased,” she closes her eyes to hold back tears, and cradles the book in both hands against her. “You know, Cullen talks to Ellinor, and Ellinor talks to me. I hear about how you are minding your own business, going about your day, while I cry myself to sleep or eat my body weight in Taco Bell. Every time. It hurts, but I tell myself, ‘oh, she’s just coping in her own way, she has to be as messed up as I am about this, just as torn up, just as…” she takes a shallow breath, but it does little to assuage her. “‘She has to be just as inexplicably messed up as I am.’ But even when I worried you didn’t care, or that you were indifferent, never did I think you would walk into the room and rip my heart out the way you did.”

Cassandra had become more and more engrossed in a painful kind of way, the more she talked. It wasn’t hard to understand -- it was probably the most brutally candid Olivia had ever been in her presence. Bearing her most cringe-worthy sides of her survival, for reasons she could not articulate half as well.

“So…” she sharply sniffled, “I just want to know what the secret is. What you do, what you...you tell yourself, that makes you so magically put-together. Maybe it’s the same shit you take that convinces you that I’m the one tormenting you when I…” she closes her eyes again, but a stray, small tear runs down the outside corner of her eye. That is enough for her. “You know, whatever. I’m...I’m not gonna…” she started to walk back, verbally and physically, expecting nothing else but her own shame.

A few steps, and then, the second twist of the knife.

“Liv, please.” Once again, she asks, and once again, Olivia stops. This time, her back is to her.

“I…” Cassandra takes a moment, collecting her breath by the sounds of it. “Cullen knows me, but he doesn’t know...me. He sees me coming and going, but he doesn’t know what happens while I’m getting by. If he did, he’d tell Ellinor--or, probably you, more like--that from the moment you first spoke to me I haven’t been able to get your voice out of my head. I’ve never been good with sentimentality, much as I appreciate it. But when I’m...when I’m around you it feels like I don’t have to worry. If anything’s been a secret, it’s been that.”

The sensation of hugging her in this room is still fresh. The way her arms wrapped around her waist, the way her breath felt against her neck. The briefness of it, and wishing it could last. But nothing lasts. Head high as much as she could pretend, she swallows stiff and keeps her eyes on the door for just a beat longer. Then, she faces her again. And Cassandra, she...her red eyes, her slightly red, tired eyes. It’s horrible.

“If you were so crazy about me, then why didn’t you kiss me? I was all yours, I was--”

“Because I didn’t want it to be like that.”

“...You…”

Cassandra sighs tersely, rubbing the side of her face. Exasperated. “I didn’t want the first time I ever kissed you to be during a fight about you being slut-shamed and me invading your privacy, alright? Is that...is that so much to ask? That if I was going to...to let myself be with a woman, a woman like you, that that kind of thing would be a little more special?!”

“I would have agreed, if you would have just talked to me! About anything!” Olivia shifted, now head-on with her. “You said you knew what you wanted, Cassandra, but that’s just it. You knew. I may have had my hopes and...and you may have been right about me having more of a clue than I admitted, but a clue is not consent. It isn’t a consensus. When you rejected me, I felt like an ass! Like I had taken advantage of you in some way.”

“Something you would have known wasn’t the case if you would have just stayed and listened to me! I was trying to tell you!”

“Trying?!”

“Yes! Or have you forgotten how hard it was to say out loud to the first girl you ever liked that you had feelings for her, and you were terrified she’d walk out?!”

“I did--!” She begins to hiss back, but stops. Forgiveness was an easier visitor when it came to certain suffering. She couldn’t swing the gavel when it came to that: it was like breaking ten different rules of queer code. Ugh, dammit. “Intimidated or not, we’re adults. This isn’t a recess, or homeroom, it’s...it’s life. I don’t get it, you’re always so...just...mature, with everything else but this.”

Cassandra half-nodded, and folded her arms. “The heart of man is a labyrinth, whose windings are very difficult to be discovered.”

Olivia delayed her retort, a bit off-guard. “...Um...yeah, that is...one way of putting it.”

Cassandra’s sweetly sore, peering down at the ground. “It’s an excerpt, from one of Heloise’s letters to Abelard. It’s...it’s after one where he implores her to revoke their union for the sake of God, but she refuses.”

Who even is this woman? Some thesaurus of mankind’s broken desires, reincarnated into one toned, statuesque, androgynous body? Is she even real?

“Yeah, well...Abelard was an elitist asshole who wasn’t worth it. And you’re still pompous, I take it.”

She smirks again, but not as sadly, as her eyes meet hers again. “Maybe so, on both counts. However, he still encouraged her in her work, and her learning.”

“Yes, as a means to punish her for behavior he deemed carnal even though he was a complicit beneficiary of if, not to mention--”

“Behavior he was punished for as well, rather grotesquely, if I can recall.”

Olivia’s hold on the book loosens, and she looks down at it, before back at her. “He...yeah. I mean, it was just a little...castration. It be like that sometimes.” They stare once again, and she clamps down on her tongue. They’re both fighting back something, some kind of expression, though Olivia denies the hope that Cassandra wishes to smile as she does. That is, until they both cough up a chuckle. The first in a long time; she can hardly remember the last occasion. That hurts.

After a moment, she gathers her wits. She slides the book into her shoulder back, and gets back to the unsavory topic.

“We’ve made a mess, haven’t we.” She can’t help but smile. Cassandra could run her heart through the mud and gravel, and then say something clever, and that’d be all it takes. She’d smile.

“I’m afraid so. They must think we’re devising to kill each other,” Cassandra says, coming forward. There’s no need of explanation as to who she’s referring to. In a flash, images of a very worried Ellinor and slightly scared Cullen come to mind.

“You would deserve it.”

A wry smirk. “Oh, would I?”

“Yes, you were a dick.”

“And you were an insensitive snob.”

Olivia chokes back another laugh. “Compared to the company you keep, Cassandra, I’m a down-home piece of apple pie.”

Cassandra scoffs. “Leliana? Ugh, God,” she grins, “she only pulls that act when she’s trying to pull something. She was being an ass, but, she was just...trying to protect me. I’m sure she’ll appear out of nowhere and explain herself, so, be prepared.”

“Oh, wonderful, I crave her company,” she mocks, eyes rolling gently as she looks back towards the door. “Why doesn’t she just show up now? I’m eager for more mortifying company.”

“She knew I wanted to be left alone. She does listen, you know.”

“...Oh. Well, damn.” That was a nice thing. Boundaries, huh, who knew. She can sympathize -- Olivia also has a friend who left her alone after one too many acidic quips. Oh, Ellinor. Though she wants to, she can’t crucify the woman for wanting to put up a fight for her friend. “Look, I know it makes me an asshole every time, but, I really should be going this time around. I have things to do tonight, and I really just needed to get this….this book.” She says it, but she hates it.

She hates it even more when Cassandra frowns, and blinks her eyes away. “I understand, no, it’s alright. You can’t just stay in every room I find you in.”

“No, I can’t, hah.” But I wish I could.

“Hey, Olivia?” she says one last time. Her full name. It’s nice, without all the malice.

“Yeah?”

Her eyes brighten a little. Bravery. “I...I hope that you’ll be happy. Whatever that means for you. You deserve it.”

It’s a stab to the side, clean and direct through her ribs and into her gut. Her voice saying ‘I think you knew what I wanted,’ rings loud and clear in her mind again. Wanted. Not want, wanted. And now this. Oh no, Cassandra, please, please don’t tell me you’ve really let go.

“...Thank you, Cassandra. I...I wish the same for you.” I wish it, and I wish it’d happen with me. Be with me. Ask me to stay. This time I’ll stay, I promise. Just ask it.

“Thanks. Um, drive safe, okay?” More of those polite, detached manners. Again. No, no, no.

“Yeah, um,” Olivia swallows, “I will. See you around, maybe?”

“Yeah. I think so.” A smile. She’s smiling. Oh God, she really has accepted it. That they aren’t meant for each other. Like Heloise and Abelard: Olivia as Heloise, ranting and raving in her letters about having been consumed by amorous affection. And then there’s Abelard, pointing her away towards higher callings, wishing her the best. Fuck Abelard, and fuck this.

Olivia tries her hardest to hide it, and she manages a wide grin and wave before leaving. She makes it out the hallway, down the side aisle of the Church pews, out the door, and into her car.

Slamming the car door behind her, she sinks into her compact leather seat and bangs her head against the headrest. Cassandra is letting her go. She did at the gallery, technically, but now it hurts in a different way. A way she feels no enraged pride in, no vanity. No need for spiteful indifference. She wants to take it all back, this time.

The one thing she couldn’t say, and perhaps will always regret, is that Cassandra was right. She is right. And now, she’s giving Olivia what she wants, what she clamors for, all the time. She’s giving it rather than trying to change her. So this is what respect feels like from someone who wants to love you.

The book stays in her lap as she drives home. When she stops at every red light, she clutches where Cassandra held it. If it were all a movie, this would be where she’d drive off into the sunset after her coming-of-age tale, leaving the reckless love behind. But she wants to do anything but that.

How long will it be until she finally stops? The answer is now.

She brakes hard and pulls into a street parking spot -- one of the luckiest moments of her life. Digging in her bag on the passenger’s seat, she finds her phone. Thumbing and thumbing, until she finds her name and the message thread she could never make herself delete.

--You know what’d make me happy? Because I have a couple ideas on the subject. The first is Friday night, at 11. Stay awake, or miss out.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Mountain High - Ch 1

Title: Mountain High

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel with eventual Sabriel

Rating: Lemon

Tags: kidnapping, smut, and I’ll add more as I go if I need to.

Summary:

    Suddenly taken from his own home and flown god knows where in the dark, Dean Winchester finds himself thrown into something he could never have imagined in his wildest dreams.

AO3 Link 

Masterlist

A/N: So this is a new fic I’ve been working on. Its a wing fic, and I’ve been super into those lately so when I got this idea I was super excited to write it and share it with you guys! And if any of you have any recommendations, even your own wing fics, PLEASE send them my way! <3

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Chapter one

    Home. Dean loved his home, and he was super proud of it. When he first bought it he was twenty-two, out on his own for the first time after just having sent Sammy off to college. It was a small, run down old place, but as soon as he laid eyes on it he knew it was going to be his, and sure enough it was.

    He remembered the pure rush of excitement when he stood beside the for sale sign in the front yard, holding the sold sign in his hands while Sammy snapped a picture. Of course, when Sam saw the place he was none too happy that Dean had bought such an “absolute piece of crap” as he had said back then, but unlike Sam, Dean could see the bigger picture.

    After everything was finalized, papers signed, and Sam officially set up in his Stanford dorm room, Dean started his work. It took him nearly a year to complete the whole project, but by the time he was done the place looked brand new. He had practically ripped out the entire inside of the house and opened it up completely, rebuilt every room, gave himself the kitchen of his dreams, turned the basement into the ultimate Dean cave, did up the master bed room for himself and the spare room for Sammy, while also turning the old office into a guest room for visitors. He had also redone the entire outside of the house, replacing every piece of siding, planting a few nice gardens out front that would make the cover of any magazine in a heartbeat, and installed a beautiful deck equip with a gazebo out back.

    A full year of hard work, but it was well worth it in his eyes. He had turned what everyone had told him was a horrible investment into the best damn thing in his life, aside from Sammy and Baby of course. It was his own little paradise, one thing he had in his life that he worked incredibly hard for and no one could ever take away from him.

    And now that his work was finished, the house fully renovated and Sam flourishing in his school work, Dean had all the free time he could ever want. And all though his weekends had completely opened up, he didn’t spend his time out with friends, but instead his favourite weekend activity was to completely clean the house from top to bottom. Part of the reason for that being because he worked so hard to get it to this point that the last thing he wanted was to let it become a pig sty, but the main reason for this weekly routine was that Dean Winchester loved to sing.

    He would sing anything and everything. If it had a tune and words, he would sing it, and the only time he got to really belt it out was on the weekends when he was alone in his house. Dean would wake up early Saturday morning, and the first thing he would do after bacon and eggs, was open the windows, turn up the radio full blast and dance through his house as he sang his way through cleaning.

    He would vacuum the living room while belting Kansas, scrub the bathrooms to Led Zeppelin, and skid on socked feet across the kitchen to AC/DC. And today was no different.

    It was a Saturday, on a nice warm day in April. He followed his weekend routine and the house was now perfectly spotless. He finished off with the kitchen and was standing in front of the screen door looking out at the backyard and letting the nice cool breeze brush against his skin, thanking his lucky stars that he bought a house that backed on to a forest that always offered a breeze. Perfect, he thought, his life was perfect.

    His phone rang in his pocket, pulling him from his dazed state. The caller ID read “Rapunzel” and he laughed as he answered, “Hey, Sammy, what's going on?”

    “Not too much, Dean, what about you?”

    Dean sighed, “Same old, same old. Works keeping me busy, I just finished cleaning the house, just a typical Saturday night.”

    “Dean, you really should consider maybe going out once in a while.” He could practically hear the scowl on Sam's face, “When was the last time you even had a date?”

    Dean scoffed, “Really, Sammy, a date?”

    “Yeah. What about that girl who lives down the road, what was her name…”

    “Jo?” Dean offered.

    “Yeah, that’s the one,” Dean just shook his head turning towards the fridge for a beer, “the last time I came down for the weekend she seemed pretty into you. Why don’t you ask her out?”

    “Nah,” he popped open his beer and stepped out onto the back porch, taking a seat on the swing to watch the sun set behind the trees and the mountains, “she's not really my type, Sammy, and I guess I'm just not really into the dating thing right now.”

    “So go out with some friends then, go to a bar, get dinner. I don’t care what you do just… leave the house.”

    “I leave the house,” Dean didn’t have to see Sam's eye roll to know it happened.

    “Dean, leaving the house to go to work at Bobby’s where it’s just the two of you, doesn’t count. You need human interaction.”

    “I was pretty sure Bobby was human, last time I checked anyway.”

    “Come on,” Sam chuckled, “he barely counts. And look at him as an example. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love him and he's the best uncle in the world, but do you really wanna end up like him?”

    Dean scrunched his brows and adjusted the phone against his ear, “What do you mean? Bobby’s got a great life.”

    “Locked away in his house, all day every day, alone and surrounded by nothing but old broken down cars? Dean, I don’t want you to turn into a hermit.”

    “Sam,” he sighed over his beer bottle, “I'm not a hermit and I'm not going to turn into one. I'm just… I dunno, not really good at the whole making friends with your neighbours, back yard barbeques, apple pie kind of lifestyle. I don’t really know how to talk to people. I mean, I'm great once you get to know me, but it’s the part leading up to that, that I'm no good at.”

    “What if I came down for a bit? I know you’ve been living there for a while now, but it’s never too late to introduce yourself to your neighbours. I could come with you and help move the conversations along if you get stuck.”

    Dean couldn’t help but smile. Even miles away his little brother was still worried about him. “Sammy, I appreciate it but you’ve got school, and exams are coming up soon right?”

    “Yeah… but-”

    “But nothing,” Dean put on his mom voice, “you need to be studying and not worrying about me.”

    “But I do, you know, a lot.”

    “I know,” he smiled, “but you shouldn’t. And soon enough you'll be home for the summer right? We can work on breaking me out of my hermit shell then as long as you promise to focus on school until after you're finished with exams, deal?”

    “Deal!” Sam exclaimed, seeming satisfied with that compromise.

    “So,” Dean said, “why don’t you tell me about school instead. What's new? Any new friends, interesting developments, juicy gossip… girls?” he teased.

    Same laughed, “No girls, Dean.”

    “Why not? Its college, Sammy, is your campus not swimming with hot chicks?”

    “Well, yeah,” he began, “but I just… I dunno, I’m not attracted to any I guess.”

    “Fair enough,” Dean shrugged, “but when the right girl does comes along, you'll know. She’ll fly in and sweep you right off your feet, there won’t be a doubt in the world.”

    Sam nearly choked, “And you're an expert all of a sudden?”

    “Course I am, Sammy,” Dean laughed as he continued, “I'm the older brother and therefore I am an expert in everything. It’s the rules, you know this.”

    He couldn’t see it but he was sure that Sam was shaking his head at him.

    “Well, if there’s no girls then what about something else? There’s gotta be something new and exciting in your life.”

    “I'm going to be taking entrance exams for Harvard soon. Does that count?”

    Dean nearly jumped out of his seat and spilled his beer, “Of course that counts, Sammy! That’s great news!” Dean knew Sam wanted to go to law school, but Sam was always back and forth, never really sure if he wanted to jump into it so quickly, but obviously the kid had finally made up his mind. And though Dean was slightly disappointed that he wouldn’t have Sam home for a full year between Stanford and Harvard law school, he was proud of his little brother for following his dreams.

    “Its no big deal, really,” he could hear the blush in Sam's voice, “but if I get good enough scores on the entrance exams then I have a chance at a full ride next year.”

    Dean couldn’t hold back his excitement, “Sam, that’s amazing!”

    “I'm kind of nervous, what if I don’t get the scholarship?”

    “Don’t be nervous. I know you'll do great on your entrance exams, you’re a hell of a smart kid, Sammy,” he took another swing of his beer before continuing, “and if you don’t get the scholarship then we’ll figure something out, like we always do. If you wanna go to Harvard then I’ll make sure you go to Harvard. Simple as that.”

    “Dean… you can’t afford to send me to Harvard, not on a mechanic’s salary.”

    “Look, wait and see what happens after the entrance exams, okay? Then we’ll go from there once we know if you have the scholarship or not.”

    “Yeah, I guess you're right.”

    “Course I am,” he snorted a laugh, “and I'm also right when I say it’s late and you should probably be getting to bed, Sammy.”

    Sam let go a yawn on the other side of the phone, “Yeah, I'm tired, and I plan on studying all day tomorrow, so I should turn in. But I promise I’ll call again next week sometime, after exams are over and I can breathe again.”

    “You better call,” he smiled, “I want to know how all your exams go next week, and Sam?”

    “Yeah, Dean?”

    “I just want you to know that no matter what happens with your exams or the Harvard scholarship, that I'm proud of you, Sammy.”

    There was a long moment of silence between them before Sam answered in a choked voice, “Thanks, Dean, that means a lot. But I'm gunna turn in now, and don’t forget what I said, a night out here and there wouldn’t hurt.”

    “I said we’d work on it when you're home for the summer, which is very soon, I promise.”

    “And I'm gunna hold you to that,” Dean chuckled, “good night, Dean.”

    “Night, Sammy.”

    He hung up the phone and looked up at the sky. It was dark now, he and Sam had been talking for a long time and he hadn’t even noticed that the stars had made an appearance, but he would never get tired of looking at them. He still had about half his beer left and decided to stay out on the porch and finish it while thinking over Sam's words. Maybe he was right, maybe Dean did spend too much time alone in his house. He may not be ready to jump into the dating scene but there was the guy across the street, Benny he was pretty sure was his name. He seemed alright so far. They hadn’t exchanged much more then a few words in passing, but maybe he was a good place to start.

    After finishing his beer and deciding that tomorrow he would head across the street and see if Benny wanted to go for wings and beer tomorrow night, Dean peeled himself off the porch swing and turned to head back inside. He was only able to get the patio door open a crack before someone grabbed him from behind, wrapping unnaturally strong arms around his waist, and to Dean’s utter shock the ground was being torn away from his feet.

    Before he could register what was happening he was watching his small backyard getting further and further away and he was getting higher and higher. Panic swelled in his chest at the thought of being kidnapped from his own backyard, but also at being this far off the ground.

    When he was able to pull himself together just a little, he tried to fight back, tried to call out for help, but no one could hear him at that height. And the arms around him were not budging in the slightest, so the more Dean fought the worse the ride got. Whoever had taken him from his back yard was a terrible flyer and choppy as hell. And what originally started as a fight against his attacker very soon turned into a fight against his own stomach as he battled with all his strength to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged.

    Dean wasn’t sure how much time had passed with him flying through the sky. He had long since closed his eyes as the fight with his stomach became more and more dire with each dip and lift in the flight. While at the same time he was trying to keep a clear enough head to try and figure out how he could get out of this… maybe call Sam for help. But reaching for his phone in his pocket proved only to piss him off further as he remembered hearing it hit the porch before he was lifted into the air. The shock of being attacked in his own backyard caused him to drop the phone and now he had no way of calling someone for help.

    Before he could dwell on it anymore, Dean felt a shift in their direction, suddenly finding himself being hurdled straight up. When the sudden climb was over he felt them heading straight once more, and before he had time to adjust he was being placed back on his feet. But after the unwanted and uninvited ride, he legs were definitely not ready for standing. So instead his shaking legs gave out and he was sent hurdling forwards and rolling across the floor.

    Eyes still closed, he remained on the ground for a few moments, groaning while trying to calm his still raging stomach. He could hear rustling behind him, then hurried footsteps, and the guy who had kidnapped him saying, “Get my father,” before the footsteps retreated back again.

    When Dean finally felt like he had regained control of his stomach he slowly rolled over to face his attacker, growling out, “Who the hell do you think you are-”

    Dean stared wide eyed at the man behind him, shocked out of words and rooted to the spot as they stared at each other.

    Doors opened somewhere behind him and the hurried footsteps returned, though Dean couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from the man before him.

    The footsteps stopped and the entire room was engulfed in silence before another voice spoke, “Oh son… what have you done.”

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 A/N: So there is chapter one! Let me know what you guys think and if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters please let me know <3

[angelichl]

hii, i hope you’re enjoying your vacation, i know you said you wouldn’t be as active atm because of that but i did want to ask if you were still interested in writing a college au and if that’s something you’d do? lots of love

I keep trying to write a college au seeing as I’m a College Student™️ rn so I feel like I could write something accurate and I have a wealth of experience to draw from, but every time I try I keep getting stuck rip.

recently I’ve had an idea that’s kind of an ode to the wattpad stories I read when I was in middle school, with the good girl boy / bad boy dynamic, so I wanna write my own take on that and also try out the “I’ll teach you how to flirt with that guy you like if you help me with this stupid math project” trope. and also they live in different buildings but their rooms are across from each other and sometimes louis forgets to close his curtains (and harry “forgets” to close his) so they See Things like louis changing into his pajamas and harry doing bicep curls while reading romance novels.

so harry is the shady loner dude sulking around campus in the vintage army jacket, and everyone is intimidated by him bc of a dark backstory, even though he did nothing wrong. he may be brooding/moody/etc but he’s also the person to pick up earthworms off the sidewalk to save them from getting stepped on, so really he would never hurt a fly. he’s an english/psychology double major and he runs the eco club which is kind of funny bc no one would really expect him to be sitting at a table in the dining hall trying to get students to sign a petition for the school to transition to mostly renewable energy by 2025, but there he is. there are rumors that he gets loud and aggressive when he’s angry, so people stay away from him for the most part, but the rumors aren’t true. he works at the college’s writing center, where he has his feet propped up on the desk and some sort of obscure world lit book in his hands as he waits for the next nervous freshman to come to him and ask for help on an essay.

meanwhile louis is the quiet, shy physics and dance double major. he has approximately 2 friends but they both recently started messing around so louis is often left to either third-wheel ziam or go do something by himself. he can usually be found tucked into his favorite nook on the third floor of the library, or practicing his ballet form in the dance studio. on the weekends, he practices pottery at the craft center, where he sometimes sees harry heading into the dark room to develop his photos for his photography class. louis also has a stupidly hopeless crush on a stupid boy who works at the art center, so. they’re kind of friends but whenever the boy talks to him, louis gets all shy and timid and can’t form a sentence of more than three words at once. he’s lucky if he says anything at all and doesn’t make a fool of himself.

so, anyways, harry needs to take calc for some requirement, and while he was decent at math in high school, this class is really killing him. he’s talked to the professor about it and gone to the math center for help but all the other students are intimidated by him so they aren’t much help. so he’s frustrated and annoyed and decides to hell with it, he’s gonna go talk to that quiet little physics major he always sees rushing down the sidewalk, bundled up in warm oversized sweaters with the sleeves pulled over his hands. he’s good at calc, everyone knows he is, and he seems nice. he seems like he wouldn’t say no to harry, or try to brush him off.

so harry kind of corners him in the dining hall one day, and he starts to propose a deal: harry will literally pay louis for his time if he helps him pass this class. but then the guy louis likes comes up to them to say hi to him and louis gets all flustered and hardly says more than two words, making a fool out of himself, with harry watching it all amusedly. and realizing that it could be a mutually beneficial agreement. so harry says what he’s thinking and louis resists at first but eventually he’s persuaded, knowing he really could use some help from someone like harry—bc everyone is afraid of him, yeah, but they all respect him too, and he’s never had trouble finding someone to hook up with. people may be intimidated, but they’re also drawn to him.

so it’s awkward at first but eventually, through hours of studying together in the library trying to work out complex derivatives, and harry coaching louis through having an almost normal conversation with the guy he likes, they become sort-of friends. not that they would ever admit it to anybody. in late october, just before halloween, harry convinces louis to go to a party on saturday night to make a move on the guy he likes, or at least try to get his attention.

louis is a bit freaked out bc he doesn’t like large crowds of people, he doesn’t like to drink much, and he’d much rather stay in and watch true crime documentaries with liam and zayn, but. harry picks out what louis should wear, and they run through the plan one more time before heading across campus to the party they know louis’ crush will be at.

he’s there right when they walk in, but harry and louis decided it would never work if louis tried to start the conversation, they needed the guy to come to him first, so the plan was for louis to go dance in the crowd and hope he was watching. he was too shy to dance alone without being at least tipsy, first, but all they had wa a cheap beer and a toxic mix of alcohol in a trash can which was quite frankly disgusting, so harry rummaged through the cupboards even though he wasn’t allowed to and mixed rum and cider just for him. cue louis being wary and making harry take a sip first before shrugging and downing the cup, backing away into the crowd while making eye contact with harry the whole time.

and, like. he knows he should be thinking of the guy he likes as he’s dancing, trying to be sexy about it and probably failing, but. harry’s eyes are on him, they have been all night, and all louis can think about is how much they’ve grown to like each other these past few weeks, all the time spent in the quiet hours of the night studying calculus and trying to teach louis how to get a boy’s attention. lately it had been more than that, laughing more times than not at stupid jokes, asking each other about their days, hanging out whenever they had free time under the guise of perfecting the plan. last week they drove to mcdonald’s in the middle of the night because they were sick of studying for their exams the next day, and they ended up driving around for hours just talking about anything and everything. and when harry finally dropped louis off at his dorm just as the sun was beginning to rise, louis could’ve sworn harry wanted to kiss him.

so louis keeps dancing and the feeling of harry’s eyes on him burns under his skin and makes him want more, more, more.

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

Shoot Your Shot [SOCCER!CAL AU]

Part 2!

Calum couldn’t believe his luck. He also couldn’t decide if it was good or bad luck. He may have broken his ankle and would be out for a while, but on the brighter side he got to stay with Bia. He couldn’t tell when or what, but something about her had changed recently. For the better, too, in his opinion. He just couldn’t figure out what. Now, though, he would have plenty of time to figure it out since they would be moving in together. Temporarily, he reminded himself.

“Let's go to my place first.” Calum said, peeling off his muddy shirt. After sitting in the dirt and sweat for hours, he needed to get the filthy material off his body. “I need a shower.”

“Damn right you do.” Bia turned her blinker on, focusing on the road. “There’s no way you’re even getting within 100 feet of my house with that much mud caked on you.”

Calum chuckled. “I forgot how much of a clean freak you are.”

She punched him playfully in return. “Why do you think we always hang at Sophie’s place? Your house is too messy for me to be in without throwing up and you idiots would dirty up my place in seconds.”

“Fair enough. So how are we gonna do this?” Calum dug in Bia’s back seat, finding a spare t shirt under it. It was Bia’s. Calum knew it was huge on her, but that still meant it would be probably be tiny on him. He weighed his options and ended up putting on the shirt anyways. Bia didn’t have the top of her Jeep on and, since it was October, it was starting to get cold.

Bia, of course, took one look at him and laughed. “You look so stupid.” She pulled over, brought out her phone, and took a picture before he could even protest. “Now take my shirt off before you bust the seams.”

“You know, I’ll admit that I haven’t been going to the gym as much lately, but there’s no reason to call me out like that.” Calum put a hand over his heart and feigned hurt, but Bia just rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, nerd. We’re here.” Bia parked the car and got her backpack out of the back seat.

Calum figured that since he had gotten in mostly on his own, he could probably get out, too. He was wrong.

“What part of wait for me did you not understand?” Bia pushed him off of her and looked at her ruined clothes. “Seriously tell me which word and I’ll explain it to you. Surely it would cost me less than the $80 I paid for this bag.” Bia pushed her fingertips tightly against her temples, a sure sign she was pissed.

“I’m pretty sure you never said that. And besides, I got in the car just fine by myself!” Calum brushed himself off, still in the gutter. The fall had made his foot ache, but the heavy painkillers the doctor had prescribed him were working really well.

“Well clearly you couldn’t get out by yourself, huh?” Bia’s shouting had apparently alerted the rest of their friend group that they were back because all of them came streaming out the door and sprinting over to Calum.

‘Whoah, dude. That looks serious,” Michael pulled Cal off the ground and slung Cal’s arm over his shoulders. Ashton then appeared on his other side, helping him keep his balance. Sophie chose to help Bia, and Cal was grateful for that. He knew that if anyone could calm her down, it would be Sophie.

“It is,” Bia grumbled and stalked into the house, Sophie trailing close behind.

“Well? What’s the damage?” Luke picked up Cal’s crutches and followed behind them into the house.

“Broken.” Cal was dumped onto the couch by his supposed mates, and he propped his foot up on the ottoman in front of him.  “I’m out for at least two months.”

“Oof.” Ashton, who already had a beer open, grimaced. “That’ll be rough without you.”

“Yeah but we technically haven’t started the season yet. You’re cutting it really close, though.” Luke was dumping the remains of a bag of chips into his mouth. “It’s gonna suck, but we’ll make it.

“Cal, you either shower now or you’re sleeping on floor outside my apartment.” Bia called from the bathroom where she already had the shower running. She stepped in and rinsed off, barely spending 5 minutes in the stream. She got out, dried off, and stalked down the hall to Cal’s room. She knew he wouldn’t be in there because, well, stairs, and that she had a change of clothes in there. Everyone in the group had, at one point or another, left clothes at the others’ houses. She quickly found her pair of skin tight black ripped jeans and all black old skool vans, but couldn’t find her shirt. She dug around for a while, occasionally throwing stuff in a pile for Cal to pack, but gave up and threw on one of his hoodies instead. She also put on one of his beanies because she didn’t want to get sick from the whole “wet hair, October night” combo. After packing Cal’s bag for him, she jogged back downstairs happily finding him showered and clean.

“Let’s roll.” Bia gathered her belongings and slung Cal’s bag over her shoulder.

“Is that my hoodie?” Cal accused her, pushing himself off the couch.

“Maybe,” Bia said and cocked an eyebrow. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“You’re taking me home. I’ll get my revenge.” Cal smirked and limped after you. ||

“Alright, you know the rules. No sex on my bed, tell me if you have sex anywhere other than your bed, no shoes, no smoking and no going in my office.” Bia locked the door after Cal and dropped her keys in the little dish in the foyer.

“Whoah, that last one is new. Why can’t I be in your office?” Cal took a seat on Bia’s couch, slipping his shoe off. Bia took it from him and put it on the mat set out by her front door.

“Because it’s my house and I said so, that’s why.” Bia sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was already 2:00 a.m. and she had shit to do tomorrow. “I’ll put your stuff in your room and then I’m going to bed. If you need me, speak now or fall on your face.”

Cal just laughed and slung his arm over Bia’s shoulders which she slid out from under him.  He looked hurt for a second, confused.

“You need to learn how to use them.” Bia said, giving a pointed look at the crutches. She knew full and well what he was trying to pull, and she sympathized, really, she did, but he had to learn sometime. ||

9 a.m. was too early for anything. Bia hated everything and everyone in the mornings, but her professor only had a 9:30 time slot open for a meeting so sometimes it sucked to sucked. She sighed and whipped up some pancakes for herself and Cal, when he got up, and placed the chocolate chips to form a smile in the pancake. She was a little worried about leaving him here alone his second day being injured, but she figured he wouldn’t be up until at least 12:00. It was a Saturday, so the group would probably go do something later, but she let him sleep for now. Bia quickly scribbled out a note as to where she had gone and walked out the door.||

“UGH,” Bia screamed and slammed her front door shut. She threw her shoes off and stomped all the way to her room to put her stuff away. She was surprised a little to see Calum on the couch when she stalked back into the living room.

“Upsetting meeting?” Cal asked casually, not wanting to poke the bear.

“Yeah, you could say that.” Bia said, pouring herself and knocking back a shot.

“What’s wrong?” Cal patted the seat next to him, signaling for her to sit next to him.

“I have to make a 95 on my exam in order to get an A in the class.” Bia collapsed sideways onto the couch, her legs hanging off the end and head resting in Cal’s lap. He started running his fingers through her hair, more for him than for her. He loved playing with her hair, the fibers soft on his callused skin. She wasn’t a huge fan of it (something he wasn’t aware of), but she knew he loved it, so she let him continue.

“Oh, I thought it was something big,” Cal said, earning himself a glare from Bia.

“It is, Calum. This is literally my worst subject.” Bia flopped onto her side and turned on Netflix to her and Cal’s favorite show to watch together. “We need to be icing your ankle.” Bia sighed and rose to her feet.

“No, no, no,” Cal whined. He hated icing injuries, but Bia wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was already undoing the velcro straps on his boot and placing the ice on his ankle. “I hate you.” Cal pouted.

“Hate you too nerd.” Bia was already back in the kitchen, popping popcorn for their marathon.

“Will you make hot cocoa, too?” Cal begged, reaching for some blankets and pillows out of the basket at the end of the couch.

“Asking for a bit much now aren’t we?”  Bia put the popcorn into a bowl and sat it on Cal’s lap. She also reached over and slipped a pillow under his ankle before starting on the hot chocolate. It only took her a couple minutes to make it and she gave both of them a healthy amount of whipped cream. Finally, she plopped down on the couch next to him, her head back in his lap.

“Do you think everyone else is gonna come over later?” Cal thought out loud, his fingers already back in her hair.

“Maybe? We did make plans to go out tonight earlier this week, so…” Bia just kind of trailed of not finishing her thought.

“Yeah, guess I ruined that, huh?” Cal pulled his fingers out of her hair and crossed his arms.

“Cal come on, we both know I didn’t mean it like that.” Bia tried to touch his cheek, but accidentally missed and slapped his forehead instead.

Cal smiled and put his fingers back in her hair.

“Stop hogging the blanket.” Bia grabbed a fistful and pulled it back over to herself.

Cal found himself smiling, despite being exposed to the cold air. They watched the show together for a few hours, Cal stewing over his injury and Bia stressing about her test, before the rest of the squad came over. Bia stood and stretched, her back a little sore.

“How you feeling, Bud?” Sophie came and sat next to Cal, roughing up his hair a little.

“Fine. I can’t feel my ankle, though.” Cal swatted Sophie’s hands away before he heard Bia.

“That would be the point.” She shouted, walking over to remove the ice. She took his ankle into her hands and started gently rubbing it to get the blood flowing again.

“It’s cool.” Cal shrugged it off, finding himself liking the feeling of her hands on his skin.

“Well, your ankle is,” Luke did finger guns at Michael and had a shit-eating grin on his face.

“I fucking hate you,” Ashton said, but the giggle gave him away.

“So what are we doing tonight?” Sophie said shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“I say we just have a chill movie night. There’s a new horror movie out.” Luke said, trying to make sure they could include Cal.

“I don’t know, I heard it was pretty scary. I’m not sure SOME people in this room could handle it.” Bia said, giving a pointed look at Cal.

“Are we still going out?” Michael asked as he adjusted his glasses.  “Because I don’t want to leave Cal out, but I really want to go out. We need to celebrate.”

“I could still go out with you guys. I mean, I could hold a table and stuff.” Cal defended himself, trying not be the wet blanket.

“I see no reason to cancel. Let’s get ready and get our drink on.” Bia said decidedly, already cleaning up the popcorn and hot chocolate.

“Alright, then. Let’s meet back here in an hour and a half.” Ashton giggled again. “This is gonna be fuckin’ awesome!”||

“Is it ok if I shower first?” Cal asked as he leaned on the doorway of the bathroom. “It won’t take me long.”

“Yeah that’s fine especially since I’m not gonna shower.” Cal looked at her like she suddenly grew another head. “Bud, I showered this morning. I’m not trying to do my hair like that.”

“Whatever.” Cal spun around and shut the door.

Bia walked to her room and begun getting ready. Her long chocolate hair was already in loose waves because she had curled it earlier in the day, so she focused on her makeup, which didn’t take her long. All she did was put on cat eye liner, mascara, highlighter, and bright red lipstick. Foundation was too heavy and didn’t even cover all the freckles dotting her skin anyways. Plus it was sort of hard to find. color that matched her pale skin tone. Then she got dressed in a sheer skin tight long sleeve crop top with a cute bralette under, a black mini skirt and heeled combat boots. By then it was almost time to go, so she went to check on Calum and found him just sitting on the edge of his bed. He didn’t have a shirt on so Bia could see all the muscles in his golden skin and got a little distracted for a second. She didn’t like to admit it, but her best friend gave her feelings she wasn’t quite ready to deal with. Not just because of the way he looked, which was delicious, but also because of who he was. He was so soft and cute, but Bia didn’t feel like of being that cliched. Also, Cassidy. His girlfriend. They always kind of seemed to forget about her.

“Why aren’t you getting ready?” Bia said, pushing those thoughts out of her head. “It’s almost time to go.”

“Couldn’t figure out how to work this stupid boot.” Cal said flopping back onto his bed.

“How long have you been sitting here doing nothing, though?” Bia reached into Cal’s bag, pulled out his sensation t-shirt and leather jacket, and then tossed them onto his chest. Then she bent over and finished strapping on his boot for him while he pulled on his clothes.

“We good?” Bia asked picking up Cal’s crutches and handing them to him.

“Yeah. Let’s go meet up with everyone.” ||

The group walked into the bar and made a beeline to the back and their usual table. Calum was pretty anxious to sit. By walking to the back, the group had to walk through all the dancing people and drunks who weren’t exactly conscientious of his injury. His ankle was radiating flares of pain up his shin, and he all but collapsed into the chair.

“I’ll get drinks!” Bia shouted over the music which was pounding. “Usual for everyone?”

Everyone agreed and Bia and Sophie went over to the bar, the latter having volunteered to help carry everything.

“How’s living with her going, man?” Ashton shouted over the music. Everyone knew a conversation would be a little difficult, but hey, thats just how it was in clubs. They knew and all didn’t care.

“Fuck, man. It’s the best.” Calum said shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah? Did, uh, something happen between you two?” Luke said.

Cal’s head snapped around so fast he heard his neck pop. “The fuck you mean?”

“Oy, mate, don’t act like you’re not pining over her. Everyone knows except her and you apparently.” Ashton gave him a look that said everything.

“We see you staring at her when she can’t see you, tensing up when she flirts with other guys. My god Cal, grow a pair.” Michael chimed in with his opinion, slightly buzzed from his pregaming.

“Oh, fuck off the lot of you. Cassidy, remember?” Cal squinted his eyes and shook his head, denying as hard as could. He was spared from further talking about it because Bia and Sophie returned with their drinks. All of them had beer except Bia and Sophie themselves, the former with whiskey and the latter with a cranberry vodka.

“Could you have a more white girl drink?” Bia started ragging on Sophie, but within good reason in Cal’s opinion.

“Seriously, you’re embarrassing the rest of us. I don’t know if we can even be seen with you.” Cal high-fived Bia and found himself grinning hard. After a pointed look from Ashton, he suddenly knew what the other guys had been talking about. Maybe he did have a thing for his best friend, but there’s no way either of them would be that cliched. Plus, he had Cassidy, and he wasn’t quite ready to give her up over some school girl crush. Cal took a long draw of his beer and tried to push the thought from his mind. It was hard, thought, because she looked damn fine in that outfit.

“Let’s dance!” Bia shouted and downed half her drink. Calum wanted nothing more than to jump up and follow her onto the dance floor, fuck his ankle. She was already jumping to the music and flirting with all the guys around her. She didn’t realize they were flirting, though. Cal figured she probably just thought they were being friendly, having fun. He shook his head and took another long sip of his beer. He was left alone at the table with only his friends’ drinks for company, but he didn’t really mind. Cal was content sipping beers provided by friends (mainly Bia; she came to check on him the most often) and listening to the music. Before he knew it, it was a little past 12:00 and about half of their group was drunk. Cal, Bia and Ash were only slightly buzzed but Luke, Sophie, and Michael were totally hammered. Right as they were getting ready to exit the club, Cal realized they had lost Bia. He scanned the club but wasn’t too worried seeing as she hadn’t had too much. Cal and Ash had almost finished corralling the rest of their friends out the door when she caught up with them.

“Alright. I’ll see you guys later.” Bia said, breathing in the fresh air. The night was really pretty, the weather absolutely perfect. “I’m gonna walk home. Try and head off the hangover, you know?”

“Are you sure?” Cal could feel the concern creeping into his voice, the desperation. Stupid as he knew it was. “Frat boy, especially drunk ones, aren’t exactly known for their chivalry.”

“Actually, I think I’ll join you.” Ash linked his arm with hers. “Tonight is really pretty.”

Cal just nodded his head and climbed into the Uber. For whatever reason, he felt jealousy thick in his throat. He knew, of course, it was misplaced. Nothing would ever happen between Bia and Ash. Right? It was moments like these he had never hated his injury more. Hell, he’d break both his ankles to be able to be the one walking her home.||

“Ash, not that I'm not grateful or anything, but you know I can take care of myself, right?” It’s not that she didn’t want his company, but Bia knew, and wanted the boys to know, she didn’t need some big strong man to come save her.

“Oh I know good and well that you didn’t need me here protecting you.” Ash did air quotes around protecting, since he really wasn’t doing much but talking. “However, I think we can agree that, had I not volunteered, then Cal would have tried to walk with you. So, really, I did this more for Cal than for you.”

Bia giggled and breathed a sigh of relief. It was nice to have some one on one time with Ash, something they hadn’t had in a while.

“I, uh, did, however, have an alterior motive.” Ash lowered his voice to almost a whisper, his serious demeanor a sudden change. “It’s about Cal.”

“What? Is he okay? Is there something I don’t know about going on?” Bia stopped and looked Ash square in the eyes.

“Yes and no. Listen, Cassidy is going to give Cal an ultimatum when she gets back from her trip in three days.” Ash was looking pretty pissed at that point.

“That bitch. What for?” Bia made a face, felt her heart beating faster. She had never liked Cassidy, always thought she was jealous of Cal and Bia’s friendship. Bia had always tried to be polite, but whenever Cal tried to bring Cassidy along to a group hangout, Bia would always find some excuse not to be there.

“Her or you. Cal has to choose.” Ash barely got the words off his lips before Bia felt her blood run cold. No matter what Bia had with Cal, Cassidy would come first. Hell, Cal had even brought Bia along ring shopping once. He said he wasn't anywhere near ready, though he just wanted to have an idea. She couldn't let him throw away his future, but what was she supposed to do? Lose her best friend? Bia knew her face gave away no emotion, but inside she felt the hot tears rising up. Her palms went clammy and she swiftly walked over to the nearest bench and sat.

Ash noticed she and taken a seat and settled himself next to her. “Bia, this is really up to Cal. I mean, what are you going to do, kick him out of your life?”

And with that, she made up her mind. “I guess so.”

“Whoah, hey I was definitely being sarcastic. I, in no way shape or form, meant that you should actually kick him out.”

Bia was already walking away, though. Once she made up her mind, there was no changing it. From now on, Calum Hood was no longer her friend. ||

As soon as she got home, Bia ran to the bathroom, shut the door, and promptly bent over the toilet to throw up.

“Hey, listen, do you think I should get Cassidy something?” Cal opened the door but didn’t notice she was throwing up yet since he was texting Cassidy on his phone. “I mean, I haven’t seen- Oh my god are you ok?”

Cal reached to rub Bia’s back, but she arched her spine away from him, avoiding his touch. “Go away.”

Bia didn’t say anything else, and she really didn’t want to either. She was afraid that if she did, she’d tell him everything.

“Um, alright.” Cal furrowed his brow, confused. Had he done something to make her mad at him? He really didn’t think so, but then why would she have pulled away from him like that. Trying to shake the paranoia, he chalked it up to her being sick. “I’ll just go make grilled cheese and tomato soup then.”

“Don’t bother Calum. Just leave me alone.” Bia turned around and pushed Calum out of the bathroom, a final, symbolic act to solidify her shutting him out of her life.

Cal was stunned. She had only said seven words and yet, he felt his blood pulsing faster in his veins, almost like he couldn’t breathe. For starters, grilled cheese and tomato soup was their tradition. Starting when they were six, the other had made the soup and sandwich for the sick friend. To reject that felt a little like she was rejecting him, rejecting his friendship. Second, she called him Calum. She never called him Calum, hadn’t called called him by his full name in about eight years. The last time she had called him Calum was when he had tried to prank her, but instead had embarrassed her in front of the whole school and caused her boyfriend to break up with her. She had cried for weeks, and it had taken a awhile for them to be okay again. Cal hoped to God it was nothing like that because, although it seemed strange because he wasn't at the receiving end, that prank-gone-wrong had almost killed him inside. He leaned his back against the bathroom door and slid to the floor so that he was sitting, setting his crutches on the floor beside him. He really just didn’t understand, one hot tear running down his flushed cheeks as he sat there, waiting in vain that Bia would say something, anything to him.||

The next morning, after not seeing her again, Cal got up and immediately went to look for Bia. His ankle was hurting more than it ever had and he was dying for a smoke, but all he really wanted was to find Bia, to talk to her. He looked around her house for awhile, finding her no where. It did confuse him a little because he knew she was still here since her keys were still in dish by the front door. Then it dawned on him that she must be in her office. Cal definitely wasn’t about to go in there, especially after last night. Still, he did really want to talk to her. He figured he’d knock, at least try. At best, she’d be feeling all better and they would laugh and make up over yesterday. At worst, he’d see her later at the mall when they would meet up with the rest of the group. He wouldn't try empty handed, though. Since it was nearing lunchtime, he made grilled cheese and tomato soup again, even though she had rejected it yesterday. He set it on the counter, wishing he could bring it to her. Once again cursing his crutches, he limped to the back of the house where her office was and knocked on the door. She didn't answer, but he heard soft music filtering in from under the door, Buddy by Willie Nelson, her go to sad song.

“Bia?” Cal rested his head against the door, losing hope quicker and quicker that she would respond. “I, uh, I hope your, um feeling better. I made you lunch, it’s waiting on the, uh, counter for you. Grilled cheese and tomato. I know, I know, you said that, uh you didn’t want it last night, but it just didn’t feel right, to um, to not have it. I mean, I even washed all the dishes and cleaned the counter tops, too.”

Bia didn’t answer. Cal was left disoriented by what was happening. Their friendship seemed to be dissolving all around him and Cal didn’t know what to do. He had to talk to everyone else, maybe he was just being paranoid. They’d help him, and even if their advice didn’t work, then Cassidy would be home in just three days. Cal stood there and waited for a few more minutes before limping back into the kitchen to eat the food he had made for Bia.||

Bia sat on the floor of her office with her knees pulled up to her chest, tears streaming down her face. She wasn’t really the type to cry, and yet here she was bawling her eyes out. It was the hardest thing she’d ever have to do. She was basically cutting out the happiest memories of her life, and the worst part was that she couldn’t even give him an explanation. They’d been best friends for 21 years and she was cutting him out of her life with seemingly no explanation. It was only because she wanted the best for him, though. Cassidy would make him happy for the rest of his life, and for that, the sacrifice would be worth it. It took her a while to stop crying, but she held onto that little scrap of comfort, knowing she would be securing his happiness. Besides, she needed to give her eyes time to de-puff before their group met up at the mall later. Her plan was just to avoid him as much as possible. Originally, she had planned on canceling, but she figured she’d need them after she was through with her self-given task. She found it quite ironic, the fact that he had moved in so she could help him out and yet here they were, not even speaking.||